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teawaffles · 3 years

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Albert’s Drinking Contest: Chapter 2

“——This is, the twentieth!”

Announcing the number of glasses he’d drained, Moran set his empty wine glass on the table with a thud.

He was still clear-headed, and able to hold a conversation. But those wild features of his were now flushed, as red as the copious amounts of wine that had entered his stomach.

“Ready to give up now, Albert?”

In his tipsy, trembly vision, Moran beheld his opponent before him.

But far from giving up, Albert was completely sober. There was no discernible change in his complexion; as if he’d started drinking right there and then, he tipped back his glass, and downed his wine with ease.

With that, they were now tied at 20 glasses each. Ignoring the man staring at him with twitching eyes, Albert called out to Louis, who was still serving as their waiter.

“No matter how many glasses I drink, this profound flavour never ceases to delight. To have procured such an excellent vintage — your selections are exquisite as always, Louis.”

“Thank you very much. As I recall, this is an import from America.”

“Ah: I’ve heard that the French vineyards are still afflicted with blight. [1] It’s a pity we won’t be able to enjoy their splendid red wines for some time to come; but it’s also our good fortune to have learned about the quality of wines from the New World.” [2]

“…………”

Albert was being much too relaxed, and had even started to digress into areas completely unrelated to the match; hearing that, Moran shot him a look of displeasure.

Incidentally, the challenge had been much too great for Fred: he’d been the first to pass out, flopping onto the table with his glass in hand. Immediately after, they’d covered him with a blanket so he wouldn’t catch a cold, and the man was presently fast asleep.

“Well then, both sides have managed to consume twenty glasses. It seems both of you still have room for more, but…… if I were to speak from an impartial standpoint, you appear to be at a slight disadvantage, Moran.”

Having observed their match, William leisurely shared his views.

Moran knew his analysis was unbiased, and that was precisely why he let out a groan of frustration. His face flushed, he grabbed the bottle of wine, intending to pour his next drink; but when he realised that not a single drop had trickled out, he waved the bottle in the air.

“Sorry, Louis. It’s empty, so could you bring a new one?”

“Understood.”

Louis promptly retrieved a fresh bottle, and with brisk efficiency, filled both their glasses.

“This’ll be, the twenty-first.”

As soon as his glass was full, without any intention of savouring the wine, Moran chugged it all in one breath.

But the next moment, he was swamped by an intense wave of vertigo: somehow, it seemed he was much nearer his limit than he’d thought.

In contrast, Albert merely tilted his glass, observing the colours and clarity of the freshly-poured wine. Then he swirled it once, bringing it near his nose to savour its aroma, and took a sip to taste.

“Is this a Madeira?” [3]

Standing beside them, Louis revealed the bottle label with a smile.

“Indeed — your wine tasting is accurate as always, nii-sama. Would you like some salted cheese to complement it?”

“I’d prefer to pair such cheeses with a sweet port. [4] Or perhaps we could have a chicken with that, like Sir John Falstaff.” [5]

“In exchange for one’s soul, indeed.” [6]

Watching the two brothers quote Shakespeare as they chatted, Moran was incredulous.

“……Y’know, this is a drinking match on which I’ve staked my dignity as a man — not some wine-guessing quiz at a party,” he protested.

However, in a long-suffering gesture, Albert merely shrugged.

“Although this is an earnest match, Colonel, it’ll become a dreary affair if you leave no room for entertainment. Moreover, this wine was used to toast the American Declaration of Independence, making it perfect for tonight’s celebration.” [7]

At that bit of trivia from Albert, Moran looked positively fed up.

“Oooh, if you have so much time to share your vast knowledge, then why don’t you hurry up and drink already?”

But far from being put out, an elegant smile rose to Albert’s lips.

“Oh dear; you’re in an awful rush, Colonel. Could it be a sign that you’re nearing your limit?”

“Wha……! N-No way. I can still continue.”

Albert had hit right where it hurt, and Moran uttered a groan that was rather different from before. It seemed his opponent had observed his giddy spell from earlier.

Although the match was far from over, Moran was now consumed by a crushing sense of defeat. Seeing that, Albert made a show of draining his glass at a leisurely pace.

Even after downing a substantial amount of wine, the eldest son of the Moriarty family was unruffled, and Moran shot him a complaint.

“You’re not actually drinking some deep red tea instead of wine, are ya?”

Perhaps it was because the liquor had addled his brain, for Moran put forth a suspicion that he wouldn’t normally have entertained.

To that, both William and Louis burst into laughter.

“That’s a very unique deduction, Moran,” said William, as he struggled to rein in his mirth. “But even I can’t devise a magic trick like that.”

Louis was also trying very hard to suppress his amusement. “I filled both your glasses from the same bottle: how could it be that alcohol came out one time, and tea the next? It’s so unlike you to even consider such a ridiculous idea, Mr Moran. Wouldn’t you agree that it’s time to cut back on the liquor?”

“S-Shut it. I was just saying. And I’m not giving up now.”

Their teasing had completely soured his mood. Glancing to the side, he saw Fred, who was sound asleep.

“Somehow, I think he might’ve just laughed at that too……”

Moran gazed at the man he thought of as a younger brother, dead to the world with a peaceful look on his face. Then he fixed his blanket, which had slipped a little out of place.

When his two brothers had finally managed to regain their composure, Albert spoke up.

“In fact, Colonel: it would better protect your good name if we were to pretend that outlandish trick was true. Or perhaps we could give you a handicap, and allow you to alternate between wine and tea.”

“You don’t say. Then I’ll have two drinks the next round.”

“Oh, that’s a good idea, coming from you. If you’re the one to set up the cause of your own defeat, then it’ll make a convincing excuse to others, I see.”

“Urgh……”

No matter what he said, Albert had a ready riposte. As such, Moran swallowed his frustration, and returned his focus to the match.

“Anyway: Louis, keep it comin’, please.”

Seeing Moran try his utmost to put on a brave front, Louis was even beginning to find that a little cute; muttering his acknowledgement, he proceeded to fill Moran’s glass once more. Then, with great force, the man poured its entire contents down his throat.

“…………”

The alcohol burned like fire as it flowed into his stomach — all of a sudden, Moran came to his senses. Placing his glass on the table, he pondered.

His vexation at the Moriarty brothers’ teasing. His alcohol-induced befuddlement. And above all, Albert’s ability to hold his liquor, which had far outstripped his expectations.

His irritation at those three things had wound up completely flustering him. But once Moran calmed down and took stock of his situation, he realised William was right: he was clearly on the back foot.

Until now, he’d been unconsciously averting his eyes from his predicament by being oddly stubborn. But this pickle wouldn’t resolve itself if he just kept running away. If he continued to drink without a scheme in mind, then in his mind’s eye, he could see the outcome plain as day: he’d be out like a light in no time.

However, if he lost, then he’d have to listen to anything the victor said. Moran had originally set that rule as a way to spur himself on, thinking that there’d be no way he would lose. But now, it had lost virtually all effect in rousing his will to fight — all that remained, was the dread of what Albert would make him do upon his defeat.

He absolutely had to win. But the way things were going, it was all but certain that he’d lose.

In that case, the only option left would be——.

Within him, that conflict crystallised into a single decision.

“William,” he said. “Won’t you join in the match? Or rather: please, join.”

“Me? But why?”

Up to this point, William had been serving as an impartial judge, and he asked that with curiosity. But Moran did not answer; instead, his expression twisted into a bitter one as he continued.

“That’s not all. On top of you joining in…… If you’re agreeable, Albert, let’s ignore the count thus far and start afresh……. This is, truly a personal…… request from me.”

That faltering reply was very much unlike him, and William broke into a meaningful smile.

Moran’s decision — was to request that they increase the number of participants, and restart the game.

Despite his frustrations, Moran was well aware that he wouldn’t be able to beat Albert alone. Hence, he thought he’d bring in more opponents to counter him: even if it was just one more person.

The other part of his plan was to reset the match. If Albert agreed to that, then compared to the two existing players, someone joining in halfway would naturally have the advantage. But from Moran’s point of view, even if he was defeated, it would still be better than having Albert directly exercise his “winner’s privilege” on him — such were his complicated emotions. It was an absurd request, to be sure; but at least he hadn’t proposed having Albert compete against the combined total of both his and the other participant’s tally: perhaps that was a reflection of whatever faint scraps of self-respect Moran still had within him.

Perceiving Moran’s complex tangle of emotions, William placed a hand under his chin and pondered.

It’d also be fun to take on his suggestion. Although he did have his role as the judge, it wasn’t as if the match had any strict rules to begin with — they could easily do without one.

However, if he were to join in, and the match were to be restarted, then both Moran and Albert would be at a disadvantage. When it came to wine, he knew his elder brother’s stomach for it was bottomless; but still, it was clearly unfair to have a new and virtually-sober participant waltz into an honest drinking match. And yet, then again, he didn’t want to dismiss Moran’s “request” out of hand.

In this situation, the best option would be——.

But the instant William made his decision, and tried to voice his answer, Louis quietly raised a hand.

“Hold on a minute. Could it be that you were thinking of taking up his suggestion, nii-san?”

“……Yes, I was just about to say that. Seeing as Albert nii-san doesn’t appear to have any issue with that.”

William looked at his older brother, seated across from Moran. Then, Albert flashed them both a slight smile. Although it would mean that he would gain a new opponent, and the contest would start again from the top, it seemed he didn’t mind one bit.

Registering Albert’s generosity, Louis pointed at himself.

“In that case, may I participate?”

“……You, Louis?” Moran asked.

Louis proceeded to explain himself briefly. “I cannot countenance the possibility — however slight — that after joining the match, my brother will end up drinking too much and impacting his health. Hence, I believe that issue will be negated if I were to join the match in his stead.”

“But in that case, I would end up worrying for your health, Louis,” said William, furrowing his brows slightly.

At his brother’s kindness, Louis unwittingly cracked a smile.

“It makes me very happy to hear that. But it’s rare to hear Mr Moran make such a serious request, and so I can understand how you’d want to help him out. Of course, as Mr Moran said: this is only if you’re agreeable, Albert nii-sama.”

“Alright. Having heard that much, I shan’t object,” replied William. “What about you, nii-san?”

His elegant smile unfaltering as ever, the eldest son of the Moriarty family nodded.

“I don’t mind. If you’re certain, Louis, then I shall respect your decision.” Then, Albert’s expression turned solemn. “However, as you mentioned yourself, you absolutely must not reach the point of destroying your own health. Even though the colonel can’t help it, Louis, my condition is that you cannot drink recklessly. Is that alright?”

“Understood, nii-sama. ——Well then, it’s settled.”

Nodding in assent, Louis quietly took a seat beside Moran. Absorbing how his ridiculous request had been granted, more than gratitude, Moran’s expression was one of astonishment.

“Is this really alright, Louis? I know I was the one who asked, but Albert’s no pushover. If we lose, then you’ll have to suffer the forfeit too……”

However, Louis smiled wryly as he replied.

“I already knew that when I asked to join, didn’t I? To be honest, I don’t want to stand opposed to either you or Albert nii-sama. But now that I’ve made my decision, I have no intention of going down without a fight.”

“……Louis.”

That resolve had shaken Moran, so much so that he began to tremble. Watching him out the corner of his eye, Louis filled both their glasses; then Albert too filled his glass by himself, and raised it toward the two of them.

“Well then, once again, let’s give it our all.”

“I won’t be holding back either, you two.”

“Oh, both of you will be sorry real soon.”

Having gained a dependable ally, Moran’s enthusiasm was now back in full force.

Looking at the three of them, William spoke.

“So with Louis’s entry, the contest shall start again from scratch. But for both Moran and Albert nii-san, the next glass will be your twenty-third: please take care not to injure your health.”

With that word of caution from William, the drinking contest had resumed.

Footnotes:

[1] French vineyards had been devastated by aphids in the mid-19th century, and then fungal diseases after that. (Wikipedia)

[2] The “New World” refers to the Americas, in contrast to the Old World, or Eastern Hemisphere of the Earth. (Wikipedia)

[3] Madeira is a fortified wine made on the Madeira Islands, off the African coast. (Wikipedia)

[4] Port is a fortified wine produced in the Douro Valley in Portugal. (Wikipedia)

[5] Sir John Falstaff is a character featured in several of Shakespeare’s plays. (Wikipedia) He is renowned as a drunkard and glutton, whose favourite food is capons — roosters reared specially for their meat. (BBC article)

[6] A reference to Faust, who traded his soul with the Devil in exchange for worldly pleasures. (Wikipedia)

Aside: As far as I can tell, this line doesn’t actually appear in Shakespeare’s works. But in the legend of Faust, Faust makes his pact with the Devil via the demon Mephistopheles — who is mentioned in Shakespeare’s play The Merry Wives of Windsor (Wikipedia), which stars Sir John Falstaff as its main character.

[7] This is apparently true: Wikipedia

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #a study in scarlet

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rosemaidenvixen · 3 years

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A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 17: Jim

Ao3

Content warning: Things get pretty intense in this chapter in a lot of ways. I can't be detailed without spoiling the events of the chapter, so I'll put more the general warnings in the tags. If you want more specific warnings you can click the link above and go to the Ao3 page where I’ve posted the spoiler filled warnings in the bottom notes. And if anyone feels like I didn’t tag/warn about something that I should have please let me know. This is your warning, here be dragons, proceed with caution.

There was a stain in the carpet, from coffee if he had to guess. A dark brown spot glaringly obvious against the beige. It looked just big enough for his hand to cover.

“Jim, are you listening?”

He jerked his eyes up from the floor towards the desk in front of him.

“Sorry what was that?”

Her lips turned downwards into a tiny frown “We were discussing your goals Jim,”

“Oh, right….” he drummed his fingers against his knees.

A goal. Jim had still been trying to think of one when he zoned out looking at the carpet.

Couldn’t do any kind of job or college, those weren’t happening for him. She’d said their goals could be as long term or short term as they wanted, so maybe--

“My goal is to buy my own Vespa,” Jim said, giving himself a mental pat on the back as he did.

Owning his own Vespa. Nice, realistic, normal. A good, solid goal that no one should look twice at.

The frown melted away into a wide smile “That’s great, do you have anywhere you want to go in your Vespa?”

His face blanked, stomach dropping no less than two inches.

Stupid.

People wanted cars and Vespas and stuff because they wanted to go places in them. Unlike Jim who was never going to leave his hometown.

“Ummm…..not sure, all the places I normally go I guess,” he forced his voice to stay even despite the squirming in his belly.

Her porcelain smile remained fixed in place “I think that sounds like an excellent goal, but how about you try to think of a more long term goal before the end of the school year?”

Jim nodded along, digging his fingers into his jeans to distract himself from the hot, fluttery feeling sweeping over his entire body.

Was she suspicious? Did she pick up on how he wasn’t actually planning on going anywhere? Was she going to call Dorrie the second he left her office?

“Ok, long term goal next time, I can do that,”

Beaming at him, she pulled a packet of papers off the top of the pile sitting on her desk “You don’t have to use the guide to pick a goal, but if you have trouble thinking of one these should give you some ideas, now do you mind sending in the next student on your way out?”

Jim forced himself to stand up slowly and not just bolt out the door “Ok, no problem,”

“Thanks, have a good spring break,”

He managed to smile and give a half hearted ‘You to’ as he accepted the papers and stepped out of the office. Heading down the hallway back to the main waiting room, the jittery feeling crawling through his muscles diminishing but not completely going away.

It never did.

Glancing around the waiting room, he spotted the next person in line.

“Eli, you’re up,”

Eli fumbled with the magazine in his hands before popping up out of his seat “Oh, thanks Jim,” he grabbed the magazine along with a stack of others from the floor before rushing down the hall. Jim craned his head to try and read the cover before Eli vanished around the corner.

Keep So-Cal Weird.

Jim rolled his eyes as he exited the main office. At least his goals wouldn’t be as weird as Eli’s. Although quite frankly he’d rather live in a world where they didn’t make freshmen discuss their goals with the guidance counselors.

It wasn’t like Jim didn’t have enough on his plate already.

He had no idea if guidance counselors and social workers talked to each other on a regular basis, but he had to play it safe and act like they did.

Especially since he was like 99% sure that all the teachers knew. He knew that Strickler knew, and he was pretty sure that Strickler had told all the other teachers. So it was more like he was 99.999% sure they all knew, and the 0.001% was just him kidding himself.

So now he couldn’t even come up with some kind of goals to give the guidance counselor without his anxiety going through the roof.

Jim all but threw his bag into the locker and slammed it closed with much more force than was needed, unable to stop himself from getting worked up.

This past month had been the absolute worst of his entire life.

It had started when he’d walked in on Dorrie and Charles going through their house and it hadn’t really improved since.

When he and his mom had gone over their game plan that night after the initial panic it hadn’t seemed all that bad. Be extra vigilant about making sure that no one saw anything weird and otherwise pretend that everything was normal. If they kept on top of it the investigation should fizzle out to nothing.

Simple enough.

And the first week hadn’t been all that bad, tense but not bad. Week two had been nerve wracking but doable. Week three was when he really started having trouble sleeping, and it wasn’t like he got tons of sleep to begin with. That snowballed to him starting to forget late night meals and nod off during the day, having to work even harder at keeping up the act during school.

Although if Jim was honest with himself he forgot most of those night time meals on purpose.

On top of that, week four was when he developed a stomach ache that wouldn’t go away, not to mention learned that his hair was falling out. Now it was the end of week five and Jim couldn’t remember a time when he wasn’t stressed out, dead tired, and constantly felt like rats were chewing on his insides.

Grimacing, Jim pressed a hand to his stomach as he turned and headed to the cafeteria. Feeling sick and exhausted all the time sucked, but that was nothing compared to the everpresent, unrelenting, blood curdling dread.

The fear that he’d somehow let something slip. That right at this moment someone was coming to arrest his mom and take him away. All because of something Jim said or did.

Forget walking on eggshells, this was more like crawling through a minefield.

Every second that Jim was outside his house he had to be on guard; keeping himself under complete control at all times. Making sure that anyone watching, teachers, nurses, other classmates, wouldn’t see anything worth reporting. No outbursts no meltdowns no nothing.

As far as anyone else knew the Lakes were a normal, happy family. And Jim had to act like it.

But after five weeks he knew that was a hell of a lot easier said than done.

Jim couldn’t be sad or scared or angry any more, even about regular things. With so many people watching he couldn’t afford to let them get the wrong idea. So regardless of what he was actually feeling at any given time, he forced himself to stay calm, plastered on a happy face, and continued along like everything was fine.

But he wasn’t fine. Underneath his plastic smile Jim was coming apart at the seams.

He felt like a nerve with all the skin and muscle ripped away. Exposed to the cold air and completely vulnerable, ready to go off at the slightest touch.

Constantly keeping himself under control in front of all the teachers and every other adult in school was was bad enough, even without--

Jim stopped short as he stepped into the cafeteria, instantly spotting them sitting at a corner table. Five weeks ago the sight would have been somewhat soothing, now it was enough to make his heartbeat triple and intestines knot up.

Pulling in a shaky breath, Jim forced down the sudden bout of nerves.

He was in the middle of school in the middle of the cafeteria surrounded by other people. Now was not the time to lose it.

Five in. Hold for five. Five out.

Repeat

After a minute of deep breathing the full body shivers finally diminished to a much more manageable fluttering in his chest. Confident that he’d successfully gotten his emotions under control, Jim raised a foot and slowly resumed his approach.

Jim had been going back and forth about doing this for weeks, but this morning cinched it.

He was doing this. Today. Right here right now. Even if the idea of doing it felt like standing on the edge of a cliff.

Because the worst part of the past month hadn’t been constantly being on guard or always being tired and nauseous. It was not knowing who’d he had to be on guard from.

A month ago, when he’d walked in on CPS in his house, Jim instantly knew one of his friends had blabbed.

While his immediate response had been to call Toby and demand answers, it didn’t take very long for Jim to shift gears to shoving the thought into the back of his mind and keeping it there. Couldn’t do anything to change it so there was no point to shoving his foot into that hornets nest. A with the way things had blown up when their problems with his mom first came out, forcing the issue might put him on the odds with all of them, and cost Jim the one part of his life that didn’t actively suck right now. The only thing to do was let it go.

So Jim let it go.

But as the weeks went by, despite how much he actively tried not to think about it, small doubts kept sprouting up in the back of his mind like weeds.

Did Mary really mean it when she asked how he was doing or was she fishing?

Was Toby trying to be helpful by offering to help carry groceries in or was he looking for a chance to spy inside the house?

His heart shot up into his throat, pounding as he closed in on the table.

And while Jim knew it had to be one of the four of them that called, he still had no idea who it was. That meant he didn’t know who it wasn’t either.

So as much as he tried, as much as he wanted to, Jim could never completely relax around any of his friends.

It was bad enough being on edge with every single adult in his life, but not knowing which one of his friends had stabbed him in the back, and worse not knowing if they were waiting to do it again…..

Jim stopped in his tracks, table just inches away. The four of them chatting away, his presence still unnoticed. Heartbeat hammering in his ears.

This was going to be ugly but Jim just couldn’t take not knowing any more. One way or another the truth was coming out today.

“I know one of you called the cops on my mom, so who was it?”

The four of them practically jumped in their seats before whirling around to face him. Claire was the first to find her tongue.

“What?”

Her eyebrows were knitted together in confusion. An expression shared by all the others sitting around her.

Somehow that made the lump of coal sitting in his ribcage smolder hotter even as his heart was threatening to beat out of it.

One of them knew exactly what he was talking about. One of them was only pretending to be confused.

“A month ago someone called CPS on my mom and I know it was one of you,” he made a show of narrowing his eyes and crossing his arms “So don’t try to deny it,”

They all turned and looked at each other, shifting uncomfortably in their seats.

Jim stood his ground, mouth set into a firm line and prickling doubts shoved down into the bottoms of his feet. There it was, the accusation out in the open. Whoever it was might try to deny it, but Jim knew it had to be one of the four of them, and he wasn’t going to let them weasel their way out of--

“Jim….” Toby spoke slowly, briefly meeting his eyes before looking away “We….all did,”

His heart stopped.

For a moment Jim wasn’t sure how to respond, wondering if he’d actually heard Toby correctly, then the world slowly started to turn again and the words sank in.

“.....you what?”

“It’s true,” he snapped his gaze over to Darci, she flinched but didn’t look away “After we tried...talking to you, the three of us went to my dad and showed him the photos,” she glanced over to Toby at her side “It was only after that we learned Toby also talked to someone about--”

Jim whirled on Mary “I thought you said you deleted those?!”

“I-- uh-- umm…” she squirmed in her seat “I....made…...copies,”

Jim’s jaw fell open, unable to form words.

Out of all the possibilities, all the theories and ideas he’d had on who might have called, he’d never even dreamed that they’d all been in on it together.

His head was spinning, insides frozen and a roaring sound in his ears. Both hands rising up and fisiting through his hair, in a distant part of his mind he knew he shouldn’t be doing that since it was still falling out.

Just when he’d thought there couldn’t be anything else. That life couldn’t possibly throw anything worse at him--

Things became worse than he ever could have imagined.

He was faintly aware that the four of them were glancing around at each other from across the cafeteria table “Ok,” Claire laid both hands flat in front of her palms down “You have every right to be mad at us, but…”

Jim tuned her out, he couldn’t bring himself to pay attention to whatever Claire was saying when his world was going to pieces right now.

He thought that when he figured out who had been the one to call CPS he could call them out for lying and get the rest of the group to back him up. That he’d figure out who he could actually feel safe with and finally be able to fix at least one part of his completely messed up life.

But it hadn’t been one of them, it had been all of them. They’d torn his life apart and kept it a secret. They lied to him. Every day. For over a month.

Heat shot through him, flooding through his whole body until it felt like every ounce of blood in his veins was boiling.

It was his friends all along. All of them. They threw him and his mom under the bus and then they lied about it.

All the fear, all the worry. His inability to sleep or keep food down, the fact that his hair was falling out.

It was all because of them.

For the first time in weeks Jim wasn’t scared, he was pissed as hell.

“I can’t believe you guys!”

They all jerked back, eyes wide, shocked at the volume of his outburst.

“All of you knew about this,” Jim felt nails stabbing into his palms from the force he was clenching his hands “And you lied to me about it for over a month!? How could you!?”

He was spitefully glad to see them all flinch and look deeply ashamed at that.

“Look Jim,” Toby started to speak “I know you must be angry, but--”

He shriveled into silence under the glare Jim gave him.

How dare he. How dare he try and pretend like any of this was ok. The girls he could sort of see, but Toby was practically family. His mom had done more for Toby than anyone else would have in the same situation.

And Toby had still sold them out, with Claire, Darci, and Mary giving a helping hand.

Jim slowly turned to glare at each of them, the heat rushing over him blazing even hotter as he saw their pained faces and slumped shoulders.

Had they had secret meetings talking about this without him, had they laughed, snickering about being able to keep him fooled for so long.

Somehow a cold dribble of guilt managed to seep in past the white hot fire in his belly.

Even as blindingly furious as he was, for both himself and his mom, deep down Jim knew that wasn’t true. The reason they made the call was because they felt they had no choice.

They hadn’t done this as a joke, they were worried, they’d done this because they were scared for him. They’d done this because they wanted to help.

But despite knowing that, despite knowing that he was taking this too far and was going to regret everything he was saying as soon as he cooled off, Jim was too angry to care.

“I told you guys. My mom. Doesn’t. Hurt me.” he got louder and louder with every word, until he was practically shouting, the raging inferno inside him demanding to be set free “Don’t you get it? She could get arrested because of this, I could get taken away. Did you even think about that at all!?”

Toby shot up out of his seat with a bang, cutting off Jim’s tirade. Glancing up at him out of sheer reflex, he saw that Toby had the edge of the table in a whiteknuclekd grip, every muscle in his body taut and trembling, eyes sharp as knives.

“No Jim. You don’t get to do that.” his voice was cold and harder than steel, harder than anything he’d ever heard coming out of Toby’s mouth “You don’t get to drop bombs like your mom locking you in the basement and expect us to pretend like everything’s ok. And you don’t get to act like we’re the bad guys for trying to help you,”

Jim found himself taking an involuntary step back. He’d never heard Toby this angry. Ever.

Prying his hands free, Toby stomped around the table towards him, Jim pinned in place under his molten gaze “You don’t get to talk about lying when you were the one who’s been lying all along. When you’ve been lying to me for years!”

“Tobes I--”

One look from Toby shut him up.

“But now you want to play honesty hour? Fine, we’ll play honesty hour. How did you really get those scars on your ankle?”

The bottom fell out of Jim’s stomach, taking every remaining drop of anger with it.

“.........what?”

“Well?” Toby stopped two feet away, green eyes boring holes into him “Go on, tell me, where did those scars come from?”

Jim couldn’t do anything but gape at him. The rehearsed answer, they came from a fox bite, sat in the back of his throat withering.

He couldn’t know. It was impossible. Only two people in the world knew the truth. The act done in the dim of the early dawn in the middle of a remote forest.

Don’t worry sweetie, it's a sterile blade. A few quick cuts and a bandage on top should get you all the shots you need, no questions asked.

There was no way for Toby to know, but the look in his eyes told Jim that he did.

“How-- how--” he struggled to get the words out “How do you--”

Darci gingerly slid out of her seat to come stand next to Toby “Ok let’s all just take a deep breath and relax for a second,” she glanced over, her expression cool and professional, no longer holding any trace of guilt “Jim, I’m sorry we lied about what we did but I’m not sorry for doing it,”

“Darci’s right,” Mary stood and approached, Claire at her side “And we all agreed, what’s going on with your mom….that’s not ok, and we couldn’t just stand by and do nothing. I know your mom was probably really messed up when your dad walked out, but that doesn’t mean--”

The words hit him like a fist to the gut “How do you know about that!?”

Mary shut her mouth, cheeks pink.

By now everyone in the cafeteria was turning and looking at them. And who could blame them with all the yelling. Jim knew that this was exactly the type of scene he needed to avoid, but all the emotions boiling up in his chest were too enormous and tangled and turbulent for him to make space to care about their audience.

Claire took half a step forward “Look Jim, I’m sorry we lied to you about reporting your mom, that was messed up and we shouldn’t have done it, but...” she inhaled, drawing herself up to full, regal height “But we wouldn’t have had to report her behind your back if you had just let us help you in the first place,”

“Yeah, you don’t get to talk to us about lying,” he spun back towards Mary. Hands on her hips, eyes narrowed into diamond hard points “If you had been honest with us from the beginning we wouldn’t have had to lie about anything,”

Toby stepped to the front of the group, arms folded in front of him “To more tricks or lies. We need the truth Jim. The whole truth, about everything. The scars, the basement, your curfew,” his expression was granite, voice flint “Right here, right now.”

Jim staggered back, furiously glancing at each of their faces. Claire and Darci were stern and unmoving as statues, while Toby and Mary were full on glaring daggers into him.

How was this possible? How did they know all this?

He couldn’t get enough air, chest tight as he shrunk under the weight of the four sets of eyes on him.

What else did they know? If they knew about the scars and his dad and the basement, what else did they know? And how close were they to learning….the rest?

The one tiny, microscopic flicker of hope Jim had was that he knew that they still didn’t know about….his real secret.

If they did they sure as hell wouldn’t be quiet about it.

But how close were they to figuring it out? They’d figured so much out already, it was probably only a matter of time.

And if this was how they responded to everything else, how would they react to learning that Jim was really a--

Icy daggers twisted in his gut.

He couldn’t do this anymore.

He needed out now.

Jim turned and bolted, running out of the cafeteria as fast as his legs could carry him. Barely aware of his friends’ shouts from behind him. But he couldn’t outrun the panicked screaming in his skull.

They knew about his mom locking him up, they knew about how his dad left, they knew how he really got the scars on his ankle. Sooner or later they would figure out that Jim was the monster all along and when they did--

Throughout the years ideas of what would happen if people learned about his transformation had always flickered at the edge of his thoughts. Jim had done his best to force them out of his head and keep them from taking full shape, but now every horrible, twisted thought he’d had over the years surged to the front of his mind and refused to be buried.

If anyone learned his secret it was only a matter of time until the government found out, and when they did they wouldn’t just let him run free. Jim’s blue form was an unknown; wild, dangerous. At the very least they’d lock him in a cell and throw away the key. Or maybe they would send him off to some secret lab to get dissected and analyzed piece by piece.

His breath became choppy and ragged as he raced down the hall.

Or maybe Jim was too dangerous to leave alive at all, maybe they’d drag him away for a long drive into the desert that ended with a bullet to the back of his skull.

And his mom--

A jagged lump spouted in his throat.

Would they lock her up to? For keeping his secret as long as she did. But she hadn’t broken any laws, maybe they’d just leave her alone? But then would they even tell her what they did with him? Or would she be left sitting alone in their house not knowing what happened to him while Jim sat in a prison cell, or got chopped to pieces in a lab, or rotted in an unmarked grave.

He could barely see the lockers rushing by him as heat built up behind his eyes. He was trembling all over now, blood rushing in his ears and scream building in the back of his throat.

Keep it together. Keep it together. Keep it together.

Jim was going to break down, he knew that. But he couldn’t let it happen in the middle of school. Not now, not again. Had to get out, go home, get somewhere safe.

Right now his secret was still under wraps, and the only way for Jim to keep those horrific ideas from becoming reality was to keep it that way.

And that meant not having another public meltdown.

Ignoring the sound of the bell, signalling other kids to start streaming into the hall, Jim scrambled up to his locker and started fumbling with the lock.

Despite his badly trembling hands he managed to get the locker open and pull his bag free, but in his haste to grab it the bag started slipping from his grip. Jim just barely caught the side in time to keep it from falling, but in doing so accidentally pulled the bag open, causing everything inside to spill out.

Jim could only watch in horror as textbooks clunked to the ground, papers scattering all over the floor, pens and pencils rolling in every direction. Insides curdling as he stared at the mess.

Why now? Why today of all days? On top of everything else--

His eyes stung.

Why couldn’t he just get a break?

Trying and failing to force himself through his breathing exercises, Jim got down on his knees and struggled to gather the contents of his bag.

Somehow his efforts to gather the papers just spread them even more, the task made impossible by how badly he was shaking all over, breath coming in quick, quivering pants, teeth digging into his lip until he tasted copper, a storm roiling just beneath his skin.

He squeezed his eyes shut, grabbing a textbook and clenching his fingers around it so tight they hurt.

Get it together. Get it together. Get it together.

“Oh my god are you crying again?”

Jim froze, inside and out, eyes shooting open to stare down at two of his pencils and the textbook he’d just grabbed off the floor. Familiar snide, smarmy voice coming from behind him.

“Dude he totally is!” Seamus said with a laugh “This is too good,”

Jim couldn’t move, nerves paralyzed. Every drop of emotion he’d had to deal with today, shock, anger, fear, and guilt, surging through him.

“Awww what’s the matter baby?” Steve jeered “Do you want a bottle?”

Seamus and Logan’s laughter echoed in his ears. From the corner of his eye he saw the traffic around them slowing as other people stopped and stared. He couldn’t feel his fingers any more, curled into rigid claws around the edges of the book.

And just like that Jim was done.

He threw his textbook against the lockers as hard as he could, unleashing a thunderous boom into the hall.

“Fuck off Steve!”

Steve, along with Logan, Seamus, and everyone else milling around in the hallway behind him, froze “What did you just say Lake?”

“You heard me Steve,” Jim growled, stomping to his feet “Fuck. Off.”

Normally he would never lose his cool with Steve, the guy just wasn’t worth it, but after everything that had happened today, everything that had happened over the last month, he just couldn’t take it any more.

And Steve thought he was such a hot shot; popular, spot on the basketball team, grades good enough to keep it but not so good to be considered a nerd. But Jim knew a lot more than Steve thought he did.

Recovering from his surprise at Jim’s outburst, Steve gave him his best sneer “Alright Crybaby you got about ten seconds to get down on your knees and apologize before I break your--”

“Oh can it Steve, like you have any business calling me crybaby when you were the one bawling in the locker room about how your daddy couldn’t come watch your big game!” Jim practically spat the words.

The smug look on Steve’s face vanished, eyes going wide and the color leeching from his skin “Wha-- how-- how did--”

“Since you can’t seem to figure it out I’ll spell it out for you, your dad doesn’t give a shit about you or your basketball games! And if you really want to make him happy go play in traffic so he doesn’t have to pay child support!”

A hush went through the crowded hall. Semus’s eyes were bugging out and Logan looked absolutely petrified; Steve himself was wearing the most hang-jawed expression Jim had ever seen.

More and more people were gathering around now, drawn by all the commotion. Jim knew it was bad to be drawing this kind of attention, especially after the stunt he just pulled on the cafeteria, but the dam inside him had burst and it felt so so good to finally let it all out.

Let someone else have the rug pulled out from under them. Let someone else feel exposed and vulnerable. Let someone else have their deepest darkest secrets thrown back in their face.

Let someone else be afraid for once. Someone who actually deserved it.

“Face it Steve you’re not special,” Jim’s voice practically dripped venom “You’re just some moron who thinks that if they dribble a basketball good enough they can get an even bigger moron to give two shits about them. It’d actually be funny if it wasn’t so pathetic,”

Even as he said the words, felt the thrill of finally being able to take Steve down a peg, a tiny trickle of guilt managed to creep in. For saying something so horrible, so wrong. That no one deserved to hear, not even Steve. But what little guilt he had was easily drowned out by the massive ocean of vindictive glee he felt now that Psycho Steve was getting to experience a tiny piece of what it was like to be Jim Lake.

The crowd around them was deathly quiet now, everyone stunned into silence by Jim’s words. Shocked that he actually went there. With one exception.

Steve’s face had gone from ghost white to purple, the veins in his neck bulging, hands balled into fists as his sides “You’d better shut your mouth Lake,” his voice was soft but dangerous. Everyone, even Logan and Seamus, nervously edging away from him.

Unfortunately for him Jim just didn’t care anymore.

“Or what?”

He stepped forward, unable to resist poking the bear “You gonna punch me in the face or something? Well go on, do it! You’re only mad because I’m right!”

Another rush of spiteful satisfaction coursed through him when Jim saw the purple flush on Steve’s face darken even further at his words, so much that he didn’t even care that some of the onlookers had started to pull out their phones.

“Well what are you waiting for? Hit me, punch me, it’s not gonna make a difference. It’s not going to change the fact that you’re a loser who’s life has fucking peaked!” he jabbed a finger into Steve’s chest, getting right up into his face “That the only thing you have going for you is a spot on the basketball team. And after that all you have to look forward to is a dead end job at the gas station and at least two divorces!”

Steve was practically quivering with anger now, nostrils flaring, teeth clenched so hard he was surprised they hadn’t cracked, but Jim could still see the flash of genuine hurt in his eyes “I’m warning you Lake--”

“Because that’s all you’ll ever be, a loser! Maybe the real reason your dad left was because he finally figured out how much of a loser you really--”

The blow took him by surprise, more than it probably should have. A dazzling flash of pain in his temple that snapped his head back into the lockers with a deafening bang as more pain flared in the back of his skull. Hot stars danced in his vision, the world around him spinning,.

Jim vaguely registered that he wasn’t on his feet anymore, felt the linoleum under his back, the cool metal behind his shoulders and neck. Dimly heard the panicked shouts coming up from around him, even though he couldn’t make out the words.

Blinking past the throbbing pain in his skull, and the warm trickle of something in his eye, Jim’s sight cleared just long enough for him to see Steve’s face, twisted into a mask of primal rage, and another fist rapidly approaching.

#tales of arcadia #Trollhunters #A Secret's Worth #fanfic #rmvwrites #jim lake jr #claire nuñez #darci scott #toby domzalski #mary wang #language #violence #death mention #dissection mention

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karakozakov · 4 years

Text

Fic Rec Time!! Pt.4!

Some really great fanfics are here!

I apologize in advance if I’ve already written some of them in my earlier fic rec posts. Also, this post is very long.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Haikyuu!!

national hot dad alliance is now calling... by dicaeopolis, owlinaminor

Relationships: Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Bokuto Koutarou/Akaashi Keiji, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Kuroo Tetsurou/Kozume Kenma, Ushijima Wakatoshi/Tendou Satori

Words: 58214 | Chapters: 6/6

Sawamura Daichi: What the fuck.

(Or, the captains' squad interactions that definitely happen outside of canon, presented in Skype chat form.)

the dream that wakes you up by rarepairenabler

Relationship: Kuroo Tetsurou/Oikawa Tooru

Words: 38,277 | Chapters: 9/9

Oikawa’s offering a repeat performance of that night, the night that Kuroo’s been replaying in his mind ever since it happened. Fuck.

“You’re not that good,” Kuroo argues weakly but Oikawa looks like he knows he’s already won.

“I am that good.” There isn't a single trace of doubt to it. His confidence would be nauseating if Kuroo didn’t know firsthand that there was good reason for it. Oikawa laughs and outstretches his hand to Kuroo. “So what do you say, Kuroo? Do we have a deal?”

Kuroo sighs before offering a resigned grin. He takes Oikawa’s hand and shakes it firmly. “When do we get started?”

((Pretend Dating AU))

In Another Life by LittleLuxray

Relationship: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou

Words: 22,995 | Chapters: 1/1 | Warning: Major Character Death

Sleeping didn't come as easy as it used to. Bokuto knew this, and now Akaashi did, too.

The hospital AU that no body asked for, but that I took upon myself to write.

Personal Notes: This is very angsty and you all can have it with Bokuaka. Check Nero’s art too!!

the inherent eroticism of coordinating schedules by mozaikmage

Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi, Oikawa Tooru & Ushijima Wakatoshi

Words: 15,447 | Chapters: 2/2

Tetsurou Kuroo, Editor-in-Chief of the college lit mag "Langue de Chat," thinks the lit mag and the Flying Crows Dance Crew should do an inter-club collaboration. Dance Crew captain Daichi Sawamura isn't sure how that's going to work. Meanwhile, the Environmental Club and Anime Club butt heads over a scheduling conflict involving the school auditorium.

An AU in which all of the Haikyuu!! volleyball teams are instead different school clubs at one university.

Impulse by Metis_Ink

Relationship: Shirabu Kenjirou/Semi Eita

Words: 15,075 | Chapters: 1/1

Semi’s not sure how subtle the team is trying to be, but there must be some ungodly conspiracy pointed against him. It’s working in the sense that Semi is half aware that maybe this rivalry with Shirabu is a lot more troublesome than it seems, but really, that’s all he's getting.

Second year Semi Eita faces the downward spiral that is his life following the arrival of some first year setter who's way too cocky for his own good.

The Five Stages Of Grief by Finnis

Words: 17,150 | Chapters: 5/5

Set of 100 drabbles, Haikyuu!! cast-centric (especially Shiratorizawa). 5 sets of 20.

Shirabu howls in pain as he regards both Tendou and Goshiki with his lethal stare that could probably outmatch Medusa. “Are you both fucking thick?” He asks incredulously, not expecting an actual answer.

Tendou grins, waggling his eyebrows, and playfully slaps his thigh. “Obviously.”

The PDA jar by orphan_account

Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru

Words: 10,480 | Chapters: 1/1

“What is that thing for?”

“I’m glad you asked, captain. This… is the Public Display of Affection jar. Or PDA jar for short.”

“Now whenever you do something that may hurt our children’s innocence, you’ll have to put money in the jar as a punishment."

greek tragedy by ineedmygirl

Relationships: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Futakuchi Kenji/Tsukishima Kei, Tendou Satori/Ushijima Wakatoshi

Words: 89,720 | Chapters: 3/3

“I’m Tsukishima Kei, from the Athena cabin.”

Kuroo blinked at him a few times, before cautiously taking Tsukishima’s pale, slender hand into his own much larger, much broader and tanner hand. He had scars and callouses that didn’t come from games of capture the flag.

“Kuroo.”

He didn’t say who his parent was.

or, Tsukishima had seen everything there was to see at Camp Half Blood. That is, until Kuroo Tetsurou fell out of the sky.

The Star-Crossed Voyage by Stacysmash

Relationship: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou

Words: 109,134 | Chapters: 11/11

As private investigators, Akaashi and Bokuto hardly ever have time for a vacation, no matter how much they need one. After successfully handling an investigation for the wealthy Oikawa Tooru, they're invited on board his yacht for a leisurely three-day cruise with several other guests. Instead of relaxation, however, what they receive is the case of a lifetime.

hachiko by owlinaminor

Relationship: Kuroo Tetsurou/Oikawa Tooru

Words: 12,683 | Chapters: 1/1

Agreeing to watch Iwaizumi's dog for the summer was a bad idea. Not because Oikawa Tooru is a bad caretaker (he isn't), but because of this asshole he keeps running into.

All this time, I have been yours by cathgotyourtongue

Relationship: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Iwaizumi Hajime/Sugawara Koushi

Words: 8,710 | Chapters: 1/1 | Warning: Major Character Death, Mature Content

Iwaizumi Hajime struggles through the Five Stages of the Hanahaki Disease.

Just a Taste by volleydorkscentral

Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Words: 213,084 | Chapters: 41/41 | Warning: Mature Content

“If you can’t stand the heat, get out of the kitchen,” is a popular saying… heat, however, is the least dangerous thing one should worry about in a kitchen. Between the fire, sharp utensils, red hot pans, the Mandolin God, and lunatic co-workers, Kuroo has his work cut out for him when he returns home from Paris after nine years to open his own restaurant. He’s determined to show off — ahem, to demonstrate all that he’s learned at the helm of world renowned chefs in Michelin Star kitchens.

Bokuto Koutarou tends to have more passion than sense. He joins Kuroo’s brigade on a whim after nearly slicing his hand off… and realizes just how much knowledge he’s actually lacking. He’s worked in kitchens his entire life, but none like Kuroo’s kitchen so, with excitement and trepidation, he throws himself into his work with Kuroo. And when he meets a lovely model named Akaashi, he decides to use his new found knowledge to help Akaashi fall in love with him. After all, the fastest way to a man’s heart is his stomach — right?

I'm sorry by BlazingNerz

Relationships: Miya Atsumu/Sakusa Kiyoomi, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Terushima Yuuji/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Semi Eita/Shirabu Kenjirou, Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru

Words: 6,836 | Chapters: 1/1 | Warnings: Major Character Death

Atsumu didn’t really know when it all started, he just knew he was different. The urges-- They drove him. And did the same for his friends as well. Red, that’s what they would see when they snap, the sound around them would disappear and the background around them faded until their target is the only object clear in their line of sight. The urge grows and grows, their anxiety grows until it is unbearable. Their palms would itch, eyes would twitch and could barely process a thought, they have to do something about it.

So they do.

Atsumu knew that him and his friends weren’t normal, but he didn’t question it. They had a system and it worked, now if only their damn partners would get off their backs. -------------

Aka Atsumu and his friends just try to live normal lives while suffering with a mental illness that urges them to kill

True Colors by DeathBelle

Relationship: Semi Eita/Tendou Satori

Words: 52,243 | Chapters: 11/11 | Warning: Explicit

Semi has danced at so many clubs that he hardly even notices a difference when he moves from city to city. It's always the same crowds no matter where he goes, and he always has to share a stage with the same backstabbing assholes. That's just how the club scene works, and he knows Plumage won't be any different.

Except instead of talking shit and sabotaging him, the dancers at Plumage initiate a different sort of harassment that involves repeated attempts to befriend him and non-optional invitations out to dinner. It's almost worse this way, because at least in the past, Semi had known what to expect.

The worst of them all is Tendou Satori, who is unrelenting in his pursuit of friendship, despite how many times Semi shoots him down. Tendou is obnoxious and never learned the art of taking a hint, and despite his best efforts, Semi gradually finds himself hating Tendou's company less and less. It's a perilous slope, and Semi keeps sliding.

The Piano Man's Elegy by SadLesbianPrincess

Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Oikawa Tooru, Oikawa Tooru/Ushijima Wakatoshi

Words: 81,295 | Chapters: 27/27 | Warning: Explicit

Tooru Oikawa, at twenty-four years old, is hailed as one the greatest concert pianists of all time. So when he is forced by extenuating circumstances to give up his career as a pianist, he spirals into hopelessness and confusion. Then, the day after his last concert, he runs into Hajime Iwaizumi--the best friend and lover who he thought was dead for six years. Upon their unexpected reunion, Tooru finds himself thrown into a complicated, emotional web of unrequited love, redemption, longing, and secrets. Things only get more complicated when he meets Hajime's detective partner, the stoic and earnest Wakatoshi Ushijima, and he has to navigate a new world of beauty, pain, and his own selfishness.

Personal Notes: This is heckin’ angsty and has one of the most beautiful writing styles I’ve ever seen. There’s also a sequel told through Kageyama’s POV!

The Daddy of All Lists by bloo_balloon

Relationships: Semi Eita/Tendou Satori, Hanamaki Takahiro/Matsukawa Issei, Haiba Lev/Yaku Morisuke, Tsukishima Kei/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou

Words: 1,917 | Chapters: 2/? | Warning: Work in progress

In which four tired RAs proceed to have a collective brain aneurysm over the boldness, stupidity, ingenuity, extreme thirst and party antics of their dormmates.

Birthed from their pain and suffering is a list of simple, easy to follow dorm rules.

Ladies and gentlemen, The List™. The Daddy of All Lists™.

Personal Notes: This story cracked me up

Eggplant Party by extrastellar

Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio ,Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei, Kindaichi Yuutarou/Kunimi Akira, Terushima Yuuji/Yamaguchi Tadashi, Goshiki Tsutomu/Kawanishi Taichi, Kuguri Naoyasu/Numai Kazuma, Onaga Wataru/Suzumeda Kaori, Shirabu Kenjirou/Ushijima Wakatoshi, Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Daishou Suguru/Yamamoto Taketora, and many many more - Relationship

Words: 81,904 | Chapters: 64/66 | Warning: Work in progress

When Yamaguchi Tadashi decided to follow his senpais' example and created a group chat with the intention of friendly texting about school and volleyball, he didn't expect things to proceed quite like that. With all the first years put together, chaos, memes and shenanigans ensue.

Personal Notes: I know some of you don’t like chatfics but I promise this one’s fun!

Happier With You by Stacysmash

Relationship: Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi

Words: 24,370 | Chapters: 1/1 | Warning: Explicit

Kuroo loves his job as a live-in tutor, even if the kid can be a little sharp-tongued. The position came with many side-benefits like having a great place to stay and work on his thesis so he can finally graduate. Unfortunately, the biggest perk was also his biggest problem: the kid's hot father, Sawamura Daichi. Between checking him out when he's not looking or battling him with witty banter, Kuroo finds his heart running away with him. Luckily for him, he's not the only one...

Personal Notes: I think y’all know by now I love Stacysmash’s works

All Your Diction Dripping With Disdain by mozaikmage

Relationship: Kuroo Tetsurou/Tsukishima Kei

Words: 12,853 | Chapters: 2/2

"Tsukishima Kei’s 220-character Facebook bio reads: “Don’t talk to me.” There’s an invisible footnote appended to it that says “except if you’re a volleyball teammate or are working on a project with me or something”, but for everyone else it says “don’t talk to me.”

So when Kuroo Tetsurou messages him about something he commented in a Facebook group, Kei screenshots his bio, highlights that sentence, and sends it back to him."

AU in which tsukki is unreasonably popular in a specific part of Facebook and then things happen

originally titled "Everything is Tsuffering"

43 notes · View notes

seokoloqy · 5 years

Text

Play Pretend | jjk (m)

➳ PAIRING: jungkook x y/n

➳ GENRE: smut, angst, soccer player!jk, fake dating!au, f2l

➳ WORD COUNT: 8.6k

➳ WARNINGS: mentions of cheating, minor violence, not rlly fingering but fingering ig, unprotected sex, dirty talk, creampie

➳ SUMMARY: walking under ladders, splitting the pole, breaking mirrors, going near black cats—just to name a few things Jeon Jungkook doesn’t do before his soccer games.

And after Jungkook catches his girlfriend cheating on him, he’s going to need a little more than luck to get her back. He needs you.

➳ A/N: it’s been a long time coming but she’s finally done!! Everyone say thank you to Jane (@perfectlylmperfekt) for kicking my ass every day and making sure I was writing

—

As rain batters against the windows, your cat saunters up to your lounging figure. He rubs against your blanket-covered legs, begging for attention and belly rubs. You set aside the tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream to run your cold hands across his back, enjoying his satisfied purrs as you coo, “are you bored too, Pitch?”

The cat you brought home from the shelter has become your best friend. He’s always there for you whenever Jungkook isn’t around and you’re grateful for his companionship. No matter how many times Jungkook begs you to get rid of him because of his superstitions, you refuse. Pitch is family now and there’s no way you’re giving him away because Jungkook thinks he’s bad luck.

The reruns of your favorite television show have been on since you got back from class and all you’ve done is lay around eating junk food. You’d be hanging out with your roommate, Jungkook if he weren’t already at his girlfriend’s house for the night. For now, it’s just you, Pitch, and one too many Oreos.

You hear the sound of your front door unlocking and a disgruntled sigh. The door slams shut and Pitch jumps off your lap, bolting across the floor and slinking back into your bedroom.

“Back already?” You call out to your roommate, who made an unexpected return. Jungkook told you he’d be back tomorrow, you were expecting the apartment all to yourself.

He doesn’t respond, the sound of his squelching footsteps across the wooden floor make your head turn. You’re surprised to be greeted with his shaggy, dripping hair and soaked clothes, grey sweater clinging to his skin as he stares dejectedly off into space.

“What happened to you?”

“I caught Sooyoung cheating on me and we lost the match,” he mumbles.

Jungkook sighs, flinging his duffle bag to the ground as he drags his feet over to you. Falling back onto the couch with his legs dangling over the armrest, he looks up at you hovering over his face, distraught by his confession.

“You okay?” You ask, trying to sound supportive.

He gives you an incredulous look, “I lost the match and my girlfriend cheated on me! I’m not okay at all!”

You raise your hands in surrender, “It’s not the end of the world, okay? It’s just one match and it’s her loss.”

“But she was my good luck charm,” he pouts, turning on his side to face the television.

Ever since they started dating, he’s won every game and somehow he’s convinced it’s her that helped him win. Though you only believe it’s just luck that he happens to win every time she’s there. She’s like a lucky pair of socks he needs for every game.

You roll your eyes, leaning back into the cushions and huffing, “How many times do I have to tell you that you’re a good player all on your own. Standing on the sidelines waving around some poster doesn’t correlate to you winning every time. You’ll do great with or without her.”

“No,” he stubbornly says, rubbing a hand down his face. “I need her.”

“How ‘bout I go with you for your next game?” you suggest, reaching over to grab your melting tub of ice cream. “I bet you’ll still win even without your lucky charm.”

“But you hate watching my soccer matches.”

“It’s just one game. How bad can it be?” You shrug, dangling the tub of ice cream over his face. “Now, eat this, it’ll make you feel better.”

—

“Where’s the cereal?”

“Huh?” you hum, snapping out of your reverie. He’s already wearing his purple jersey, lacing up his cleats, and waving around a box of cereal. Usually, you aren’t awake when he leaves for games, busy catching precious hours of sleep instead of waving him off.

However, your attention is focused on the tendrils of black ink crawling up his thigh beneath his shorts. You’re not very familiar with the tattoo, having only seen it once when he first got it. He had flashed his thigh to you unexpectedly with the flower patterns swirling up his leg and disappearing past the black fabric of his ridden up shorts. You’d turned away, refusing to look at his exposed leg, afraid of where the ink ended. Maybe it stops right above the hip bone, nearing mouthwatering territory. You regret not stopping to admire it now, dreamily eyeing the marks peeking from underneath the black nylon material.

“The cereal—there’s no more.” He shakes the empty carton, bringing your attention to him and raising an eyebrow. “Did you eat it all last night while I was gone?”

You scoff, lifting your hand to your chest and feign offense, “No, I would never eat your bland and healthy cereal.” Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a black creature creeping towards the countertop, jumping up and edging towards you. “Oh, Pitch!” you squeal, running your hand over his fur.

“Argh! Get that cat away from here. That thing is bad luck.” Jungkook backs up from the countertop, pressing himself against the stove, nails digging into his palms.

“In some cultures, black cats are considered good luck,” you state, playing with Pitch’s clawing pink paws. “Your fear of him is irrational. Besides, how can you be afraid of him? He’s so cute,” you coo, tickling his stomach.

“I’m not afraid of your cat. I’d just prefer if it weren’t around me before games.”

“Him, not it,” you correct, watching as Jungkook slowly edges around the stove and moves to the fridge.

“Whatever, just keep it away,” he dismisses, turning his back towards you to open the fridge and rifle through its contents of healthy options.

He seems fine, considering what happened yesterday. Still superstitious as always. But you’re wondering how he’s really feeling, hoping he’s not bottling up his emotions until he’s ready to burst.

“So,” you ponder, “have you called Sooyoung yet?”

He shuts the door, leaning his forehead against the cold metal with a dejected sigh, “I mean, we’ve been together for years. Don’t you think I deserve an explanation?”

You nod slowly, muttering, “I guess, but she cheated on you.”

“I know,” he grits his teeth, turning around with a red Gatorade in hand, twisting the lid open and taking a long swig, sloshing it around in his mouth before swallowing.

“Sorry,” you sheepishly apologize, turning your attention to Pitch instead returning his intense gaze lingering on you.

He cocks his head towards the door, “Let’s go.”

You slide off your seat at the island and head towards the door, regretting bringing up his girlfriend—well, ex-girlfriend. He follows closely behind, unconsciously pressing a gentle hand on your lower back and dragging along his grey duffle bag.

—

The hanging overcast sky brings a cold wind around the field, ripping umbrellas out of hands and blowing away lawn chairs not secured to the ground. As you step foot on the sinking, damp grass, you cringe seeing the underside of your semi-new white shoes become muddy and stained.

Jungkook strides onto the field with no problem, used to the conditions after heavy rain and loving the exhilarating feeling of playing on a damp field.

“It’s freezing out here,” you shiver, crossing your arms over your chest to conserve body heat. If you had known it was going to be this cold with the wind whipping about, you would have worn more than a sweater and maybe you would have brought your own chair seeing as the metal benches are still wet from the earlier rain.

Jungkook drops his duffle bag on the bench, shrugging off his thick jacket. “Here, take mine. I don’t need it anyway,” he offers, holding it open to allow you to slip your arms through the sleeves. As he helps you push your arms through the sleeves, his lingering warmth shields you from the cold and he brings his arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Hey.” You twist to loosen his unrelenting grip on you. “Get off.”

“Not yet, wait till she sees,” he hums patiently, running his nose along the shell of your ear.

“W-What?” You stutter, squirming away from his heated breath puffing across your neck. You scan the crowd of people, spying the crowd for said ‘she.’ As you watch the bleachers a face appears in the stands, gazing down at your awkward position in one another's arms. Sooyoung’s beaming smile fades as she watches Jungkook press a kiss to your cheek and pulls you to his side, casually resting his arm over your shoulder.

While he pretends not to acknowledge her, she gets the message, timidly lowering the hand she almost waved. You can understand why Jungkook wouldn’t want to speak to her, after all, she did cheat on him. But what is he trying to accomplish by holding you so close?

“She’s jealous,” he smirks, “She’ll want me back soon enough.”

You gawk, no longer flattered by his intimate touches.

“Hey, pretend to be my girlfriend.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let’s make Sooyoung jealous.”

“How is that a good idea? She cheated on you and you still care about what she thinks?”

“Come on, Y/N, it’ll be like revenge.”

“Getting revenge never solves anything. If anything it makes everything worse.” You say, watching Sooyoung continuously glance at the two of you from her seat alone.

“Please? It’s just holding hands and stuff that’s it.”

Holding hands and stuff? Denying that you had a crush on your roommate/friend would be useless. Of course, you like him but pretending to be his girlfriend to get back at his ex? You guess it wouldn’t hurt to help your best friend.

“Fine.”

Jungkook grins, “this is going to be great. Stay here okay and watch me win this then.”

He places a seemingly quick and meaningless kiss on your lips, making sure everyone on the field and off has a chance to see, before dashing off to join his teammates at center field without another thought or explanation. You slowly lower yourself onto the soaked bench, faintly feeling the water seeping into your jeans, but you’re too distracted by the lingering taste of his lips. Your thoughts are a blur of chaos, still reeling from him calling you his new girlfriend and the unexpected kiss—a kiss you can’t wrap your head around.

Are you supposed to feel anything other than butterflies fluttering in your stomach? Why would he kiss you? He just wants to do it for show.

The referee blows on his whistle, starting the match and your gaze follows Jungkook. His determination and focus follow the ball and nothing else like the world falls away.

The ball is passed around and the crowd cheers, but all you can focus on is Jungkook. He runs after the ball, legs pumping across the field. The dark patterns of his orchid tattoo show beneath his shorts with every stride he makes.

Drops of rain begin to speckle your cheeks, you pull up the hood of Jungkook’s jacket. The rain begins to pour, hitting the field and bouncing off the surface. As rain drenches players and audience members alike, the game continues without a pause. Through the haze of water, you can see Jungkook still running despite rain falling in his eyes and his dark bangs sticking to his forehead. The purple jersey clings to the toned muscle beneath, giving you a view of his abs.

Oh man, you’re in trouble.

—

“Hey, wanna watch a-”

You make a beeline towards your bedroom, not wanting to spend another awkward second with him. The door slams behind you just as you hear him call out your name, wondering why you’re avoiding him.

You throw yourself onto your bed, burying your face in your pillows and screaming to release your frustrations. It’s mostly confusion though, you don’t understand anything.

In the hallway, you hear his footsteps walking past your door and you’re afraid he’ll swing your door open and demand you tell him what’s wrong, but the shower turns on instead. You breathe a sigh of relief, rolling over on your bed.

“You don’t just kiss a friend,” you mutter under your breath, talking to no one in particular until you hear a soft ‘meow.’ You’re reminded that Pitch hasn’t eaten yet and you haven’t refilled his bowl. If you get out now, you’ll be able to sneak back before Jungkook gets out of the shower. Peeling yourself off the bed, you peek your head out into the hall. The bathroom door across from you is shut with the melodious sounds of Jungkook’s humming beneath the trickling of water.

Pitch slips out of the room, dashing into the hall and you follow after him. In the kitchen, you grab a can of his favorite chicken flavor food from the cabinet to pour into his metallic bowl. He purrs with delight, picking up his meal.

You leave him to eat in peace, sneaking back to the hall where water has stopped running, but the door is still closed with the fan whirring inside. As you tiptoe towards your door, Jungkook emerges from the steam filled room wrapped in nothing but a towel, water dripping down his skin. It’s not like you haven’t seen anything before. His love for as minimal clothing as possible hasn’t phased you until now.

“Hey,” he greets casually as if nothing has changed. Maybe he doesn’t feel the tension slowly rising between you two, but you’re certainly feeling the repercussions of his kiss. You dodge around him to get to your room, muttering about a paper that’s due soon. Once you’re safely hidden in your room, you breathe a sigh of relief. You know you can’t avoid him forever. It’s childish to just ignore him and not address your problems.

A knock comes from behind your back, Jungkook calls through the door, “Hey, what’s up?”

The door swings open and you stumble away from the door as he pushes his way into your room. His head pops through the crack, peering at you with his brows furrowed. “Did I do something wrong?” he questions innocently, opening the door wider so he can step in.

“No,” you squeak, holding your breath as you notice his towel dip lower around his waist.

“Then what’s wrong? Wanna talk about it?”

“Nope,” You say, popping the ‘p’. “Now, get out of my room and put a shirt on please.”

He glances down, slyly returning his gaze back up to you with a smirk gracing his lips. “Oh,” he cocks his brow, “are you blushing? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so red, Y/N.”

You move to push against his toned chest, forcing him out of your room. “Get out, I mean it, Jungkook.”

“Okay, okay,” he surrenders, walking backward. “I’m leaving, but if you ever want a taste—”

You screech, slapping his shoulder, “Get out!”

His laugh echoes down the hall as he walks back to his room.

—

“You’re coming to my game next week right?” Jungkook asks over a bowl of soggy cereal, spoon halfway to his mouth.

“No?” You stop petting Pitch focusing on Jungkook.

“What?” His spoon clatters against his bowl as he gives you a dubious look. “But you’re my good luck charm now. We won the last game with you. I need you!”

“I keep telling you—”

“It’s the championships! We can’t lose this.”

You cross your arms with a heavy sigh, ignoring the pleading look he gives you. When will he start to realize he doesn’t need anyone to win?

As you begin to argue with his logic, he interrupts, “I’ll clean out Pitch’s litter box for a month!”

You can’t argue with that. You’d rather sit on a cold bench for an hour or two than clean out the litter box.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

“After the championships, I’ll take you out to dinner. There’s this new fancy restaurant-”

“Like… like a date?” You blurt suddenly, interrupting him. You pull Pitch into your arms like he’s your comfort animal, holding him to your chest as you nervously look at Jungkook.

He furrows his brows as if the answer is obvious. He shovels a spoonful of cereal in his mouth, chewing and speaking slowly, “Yeah, I guess… me and Sooyoung were gonna go together, but you know…” A dark look rolls over his expression as he says Sooyoung’s name, recalling her betrayal.

“Oh,” you say, hoping to not sound too disappointed.

“I already made the reservations and there’s no point in letting it go to waste.”

“Okay, sure.” You hoped he would be interested enough actually take you out because he wants to, not because he has no one else to go with. You don’t know why you feel so rejected.

As you run your fingers through Pitch’s dark fur and watch Jungkook finish off his bowl of cereal, you wonder why he doesn’t seem to care about the other day. He hasn’t mentioned the kiss.

“So, you’re headed off to practice today?”

His purple uniform is laid out on the counter, washed of all the dirt and sweat from the rigorous day before.

“Yeah, wanna come? We can go eat after afterward,” he suggests, getting up to put his bowl in the sink. “I mean, we haven’t hung out for a while.”

He’s right. The last time you both spent a good amount of time together was before he started dating Sooyoung. So you easily agree to his offer, happy to spend more time with him.

—

“You’re late. Laps.”

“But-”

“Go.”

Jungkook drops his bag to the ground, groaning as his coach gives the order and he’s forced to begin jogging around the rectangular white painted field. The rest of his teammates are in the middle of the field doing their usual drills with one another. You linger on the sidelines next to the water cooler like the towel boy dishing out water to every exhausted player that comes by. You don’t mind it though, it’s better than sitting on the bench doing nothing but idle on your phone alone. You like making small talk with his teammates every time they come for a drink.

Jimin seems especially thirsty today, however, taking every opportunity between activities to jog over with a clandestine smile.

“Again?” you laugh, moving to grab a paper cup to fill up for the sixth time.

“Hey,” he whines, gently prying it from your fingers. “You don’t have to pour it for me. I’m not a kid.”

“But there’s nothing else to do! I’ve just been sitting here watching you guys practice like some soccer mom.”

“Soccer moms are hot,” he comments with a simple shrug of his shoulder and a sly smile creeping onto his face.

“Ha-ha,” you mockingly laugh, rolling your eyes.

As Jimin moves to fill his cup beside you, you look over at Jungkook, surprised that he's already looking at you, more specifically at Jimin with an unamused expression. A deep scowl forming across his features. When he starts jogging over you avert your gaze to Jimin chugging down the water he had just filled.

“You’re spending more time with my girl than practicing,” Jungkook snidely comments, slinging an arm around Jimin’s shoulder to roughly pull him to his side with a fake plastered smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Jimin throws his hands up in surrender sarcastically. “I didn’t know you already got over your ex and started dating Y/N overnight. It takes getting used to.”

“Fuck you,” Jungkook spits, pushing a laughing Jimin off him. “You just like getting on my nerves.”

Jimin straightens his uniform, giggling, “Yeah, you’re right, but I also happen to actually like Y/N. I’m just trying to keep her company while you’re ignoring her for practice.”

Just as Jungkook begins to threaten Jimin, their coach blows a whistle, calling them both back over to the field, threatening them with more laps.

As they both jog back, giving playful shoves, you sigh becoming bored again.

After they’re released from practicing the whole team runs to the water cooler to relax, sighing in relief after grueling drills. Most of them ignore you for their cups of water, but Jungkook and Jimin seem to fight for your attention.

“Are you coming to my house to hang out? The rest of the team is coming.” Jimin asks you and not Jungkook, purposely ignoring him. “It’ll be fun to hang out again.”

He reminds you of the days before Jungkook’s girlfriend when you all would hang out whether it was at Jimin’s apartment or over dinner.

“Sure,” you agree, happy to bond with the boys again.

“You said you were hanging out with me today though,” Jungkook interjects, refusing to let Jimin steal you away from him for the day.

You don’t want to disappoint either of them, deciding on a compromise, “Well we can hang out together at Jimin’s house, right?”

“Great meet you guys there.” Jimin waves as he scoops up his duffle bag and heads towards the car with Hoseok and Seokjin.

—

Jungkook has been glowering for a while now, watching Jimin laugh heartily with his arm wrapped around you. Everyone else seems to notice the tension rolling off Jungkook in waves, awkwardly glancing over at him occasionally but not caring enough to ask what’s wrong.

“Hey, Jungkook,” Yoongi calls from the kitchen, “Come open this jar.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, muscle boy, or I’ll have to break it open.”

“Fine,” Jungkook groans, rolling his eyes and pushing himself off the recliner into the kitchen to join Yoongi and Seokjin.

Taehyung sneaks up behind you on the couch, resting his head on his folded hands against the back. “So,” he ponders, “What’s it like being the rebound?”

You’re not sure who gives Taehyung the harsh smack to the head, but he whines and pushes himself up wondering what he did wrong.

He’s right. You are the rebound—fake rebound. It’s bad enough being a rebound but it hurts, even more, knowing that he doesn’t have the same feelings you do because he’s so caught up in trying to make his ex-girlfriend jealous.

“That’s not what he means, Y/N,” Jimin assures, trying to comfortingly lay a hand on your shoulder to ease your worries away. As much as he tries to help, not even his soothing touch or gentle words can help rid the way you feel about the whole unfortunate situation you find yourself trapped in.

Should you fake break up with him? Tell him it’s over and pretend it never happened? Maybe you should just let this whole charade continue until his ex finally wants him back. If she even wants him back. It’ll be easier for both of you. You won’t have to face him about your feelings and he will get the girl again.

You need to keep up with this whole fake dating charade.

“I’m okay with it,” you say, plastering on a fake smile to convince the boys, mostly Jimin who’s watching you with worry in his eyes. “Really, I am.”

“Dinner is ready.”

Everyone’s head whips to see Jungkook peeking his head out from the kitchen door whose eyes find Jimin’s strewn hand resting over your shoulder and narrowing.

As everyone jumps from their comfortable spot on the couch to scramble into the dining room, Jungkook grabs your arm to pull you back from the group.

“Do you want to go home? We don’t have to eat here.” His eyes dart over to Jimin’s back disappearing with the rest of the boys to eat.

“Why not? We should just stay here.”

“But you look upset.”

You hadn’t realized the look still plastered on your face. He noticed the way your downcast eyes avoid him.

“I’m fine, really, I’m fine.” You pull yourself away from Jungkook and follow the rest of the boys, ignoring the worried lingering eyes watching you walk away.

—

“Why are you so upset with me again?” Jungkook grumbles, slamming the front door shut behind him. You ignored him the whole time during dinner, even choosing to sit next to Jimin instead. You just didn’t feel right about this whole thing anymore.

“Because you’re such a...”

“Such a what?”

You fall on the couch, slouching into the cushions as he takes a seat next to you. Why doesn’t he see it? He’s blind to how he’s been acting lately. He’s so confusing. He acts as if you’re his real girlfriend, but doesn’t give you any real sign that he actually feels anything.

“You’re just so blind! You make me your fake girlfriend, but it doesn’t feel that way to me!”

“What do you mean? You know this was only to make Sooyoung jealous.”

That’s what hurts. The fact he doesn’t even acknowledge how you could feel.

“You act like some kind of jealous boyfriend when Jimin is around and you were never like that before. It’s just giving me mixed signals. For you maybe it was only about her, but what about me, Jungkook? What about how I feel?”

“And what do you feel?” He crosses his arms defensively, trying to figure out what you mean.

“I-I…” You can barely get the right words out, afraid of their consequence. If you don’t say the words now, you’ll be stuck. “I like you! More than you think. I like you more than a friend or roommate should and you’re just so blind!”

It feels better as the weight is lifted off your shoulders, but the longer you watch Jungkook’s expression simmer with confusion, the more you feel that pressure returning. He’s still so hung up on his ex, so what makes you think he’ll return your feelings? He did all this—pretended to have a fake girlfriend—just to make her jealous and get her back.

“I’m sorry I did this to you. I still have feelings for her, but I don’t want to lose you either.”

His hand slides onto your leg, firmly gripping the jean-clad thigh in an attempt to comfort you, not knowing what else to do. Your downcast eyes find their way to the black tattoo peeking from underneath his shorts, trailing and twisting a complicated path upwards to territory unknown.

“So does that mean you could feel the same?” You swallow thickly. You’re stuck, wallowing in self-pity and the uncontrollable urge to just kiss him and hope that he’ll change his mind about everything. That just one kiss could change your relationship and you’ll have everything you want. It’s pitiful to think a measly kiss could change anything between you, but why not be daring? Why not be bold and go for it?

“I-I don’t know.”

“Then do you,” you lick your lips, “want to find out?”

You begin to lean into him unconsciously letting your body make the first move. It’s just a kiss, right? When he kissed you on that soccer field everything seemed to change for you.

Your hand reaches the nape of his neck, slowly intertwining timid fingers with the dark, silky strands of hair, daring to brush your nose against his. Breathless—the air leaves your lungs with each centimeter your lips get closer.

“Y/N…” he murmurs just inches away from you, inches away from crossing an unspoken line of friendship.

As soon as your lips lock something more than friendship ignites. The warmth passing throughout your body is something more than the tingle of first kisses and innocent butterflies dancing around your stomach.

Jungkook’s hand moves from your thigh, sliding up to latch around your waist, pulling you forward until your chests press against one another. It’s like a spark has lit between you two, creating an irresistible pull to cling onto one another desperately.

His lips move from your swollen lips to the curve of your jaw, down to the nape of your neck, sucking and kissing every inch of exposed skin.

Your eyes flutter shut, taking in the way his mouth moves over your body, arching further into him for more. “J-Jungkook,” you moan as he pushes you back to lay flat against the couch.

He hovers over you, kneeled between your parted thighs, dark bangs brushing over his crescent lids and nearly shielding the hungry gaze in his eyes. Fingers teasingly circle the button of your jeans as his gaze flickers between wary and lustful. Jungkook cocks his head before asking, “You want this?”

Without a voice, you nod your response, hoping it’s enough to ease him.

“I need to hear you say it.”

“Yes, yes, I want this, Jungkook,” you whine, gripping his forearm with one hand to move him against your jeans again.

Your verbal confirmation allows Jungkook to finally move to unbutton your jeans, shoving his hand into your pants without hesitation. He’s eager now, not even waiting until you can get your pants off fully. Easily, he finds your clit and begins to rub in slow, languid up and down motions to draw out a pretty moan from your lips. He cracks a grin hearing those little whimpers and feeling your legs curl around his thighs from the pleasure he bring you with just a flick of his finger.

Your back slightly arches off the cushions when his finger leaves your clit to draw a line up your wet slit, collecting as much of your arousal as he can before slipping his glistening fingers out to admire them in the light.

“Fuck,” Jungkook moans, taking his coated finger into his mouth to suck off your juices. His eyes flutter shut as if he’s tasting the sweetest aphrodisiac that is you.

You lift your hips off the couch to press yourself into his erection, grinding against the loose material of his soccer shorts, feeling the hardness of his cock laid on your stomach. You tremble with anticipation as he pulls down your jeans, staring at your exposed cunt.

“God,” he groans, sliding himself down your body until he’s level with your pussy. He takes two fingers to spread your lips apart for a better view. “You’re dripping.”

You moan as he drags a finger up and down your slit, playfully teasing your fold, making you whine his name. The way you plead for him, beg for him, grind down on his teasing fingers, all set a fire inside you.

“Jungkook,” you mewl, “f-fingers.”

“Fingers or my dick first? Because you’re coming on both tonight.”

If your mouth wasn’t already hanging open from his fingers sliding up and down your folds, it would be now.

You gasp when the tip of his finger tentatively slips into you while your fingers claw at his shoulders between your thighs. “I just want you. I want all of you.”

“Shit, I don’t think I want to wait. Just ride me now.”

Jungkook pulls himself away from your core, pulling his jersey over his head and his soccer shorts down. As he slings his clothes aside and relaxes against the couch, his cock springs free against his stomach, leaking with milky precum.

You sit up, crawling over to straddle his lap, nervousness setting into your stomach. You’re really doing this. You’re really going to have sex with your roommate/best friend. This is either the biggest mistake of your life or the greatest turn of events. The muscles in your arms stiffen as you grip his shoulders for stability.

“It’s okay,” he reassures you, sensing your reluctance and pushing back the stray hair falling over your eyes. “We both want this, right?”

You nod, biting down on your lower lip before aligning with his cock.

He’s right. You want this as much as he does. You trust him—love him.

As your dripping folds brush the tip of his hardened cock, you feel a shudder run down your spine. You instinctively lower yourself further, taking the rest of him in swiftly with the help of your arousal. Sinking down around his dick, has you moaning out his name, gasping for air, “Mhm, Jungkook.”

You rock your hips into him, already feeling yourself tightening and clenching. He fills you up so nicely, stuffing you perfectly full.

Jungkook takes your hips, taking control of your movements to raise you up, leaving you empty and whining. You clench around nothing but air and your own walls, desperate to sink back down. As his hand grip around your hips to get a better hold, he slams you back down on his cock, causing you to scream.

He continuously guides you in a rhythmic movement, throwing his head back into the cushions and groaning. The sheen of sweat glistening on his chest catches your eye as he pants. The way his eyes clench shut and his mouth hangs open with pleasure only makes you move faster around his cock.

You ride him, bouncing on his dick and clenching when you feel yourself reaching your climax. Jungkook’s finger slips between your sweat soaked bodies to rub your clit, pushing you even further over the edge.

“Are you gonna come?” He asks, breathlessly, pulling his head forward to kiss your collarbone, sucking harsh bruises against your skin.

“Y-Yes,” you pant, lacing your fingers through his hair and tugging on the dark strands. “Mhm, fuck, you feel so good. ”

At this point whatever tumbles out of your mouth is just unfiltered thoughts.

“Then come,” he moans against your neck, “Come all over my cock.”

A final flick of his finger over your sensitive mound is all it takes for your body to flood with pleasure. Your legs tighten around Jungkook’s waist, curling in as you ride out your high for as long as possible, still moving your hips against him.

Not long after, he comes inside you, coating your walls with his seed.

Once your body falls limp against his chest, equally maxed out, you feel him going soft inside you. Jungkook slowly slips himself out, careful not to let any of your juices drip onto the couch by stuffing two fingers into you and plugging you up.

You let out a little whine, “Ah, wh-”

“This couch was expensive,” he chuckles, “We don’t need any stains.”

“Well, who told you to buy the expensive couch?”

“I know a better place where we can make a mess.”

Just as Jungkook wraps his arm around your waist to hoist you up from the couch, there is a small knock on the door. Both your heads turn, afraid it might be your neighbors with a noise complaint.

“Jungkook?”

It’s Sooyoung’s voice.

“What is she doing here?” You ask, not realizing how shaky your voice sounds. Fuck, she isn’t supposed to be here. Not now.

“I don’t know, but don’t worry, I’ll deal with it. Meet me in my room. I’ll take care of you right after,” he winks, slipping his fingers out of you and licking up both your arousals off his fingers.

You giggle, “Okay, hurry up then.”

Maybe he really has gotten over her, you can’t help but feel the giddy sense of joy as you scurry to his room, looking over your shoulder to see him throw back on his soccer uniform and fix his hair.

You run into his room, throwing yourself onto his bed and spreading your body out on the sheets, grinning happily to yourself. What a dream—you can hardly believe it. Could this be the start a new relationship between the two of you?

Voices raise in the living room, you catch a faint word of Jungkook and Sooyoung’s conversation.

“...me back…”

“... still in love…”

“...can’t… somewhere…”

You lay in Jungkook’s bed, completely naked and vulnerable, waiting for him to come back for what feels like hours. You’re curious. What are they talking about for so long? Jungkook said he’d be quick to shoo her away. Worry begins to set, and a sense of doubt starts to plague your mind. What if…?

You slip out of his bed and tiptoe down the hall to your room to grab something to cover yourself up.

As soon as the fluffy, white robe is wrapped around you, you skip back out into the hall and peek over to see what you suspected all along.

You’re trembling—sick to your stomach—watching as Jungkook wraps a strong arm around her waist to pull her in. His lips are pressed against hers. That kiss is no mistake. He still loves her. It’s clear nothing between you two has flourished into anything you’d hoped for, instead it comes crashing all around you into dust.

You wonder if she can taste your arousal on his lips still lingering after he finished with you. How can he kiss her so passionately when those same lips were on you just moments ago?

You’re foolish to believe that one night could change anything. He said he still had feelings for her. They were together for years. It’s not so easy to forget your first love.

The burning tears that well up in your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself, protecting yourself, begin to fall.

“I’m so stupid,” you whisper. Even if you screamed it, it seems as if that wouldn’t break up the couples’ passionate reunion.

You find yourself laid in bed, curled up with an emptiness in your stomach, absentmindedly staring at the ceiling. You should clean up. Wash away traces of him on your body, get rid of whatever he touched.

You force yourself out of bed, across the hall, glancing over at the front door to find the two nowhere to be found. They left? He left? Jungkook fucks you and leaves right after as if him kissing his ex wasn’t a hard enough pill to swallow.

The scorching water isn’t enough to clean away how you feel. Such a sinking feeling isn’t easy to scrub away no matter how many time you claw your hands over those marks he left you, hoping the traces of him will disappear.

Once you’re out of the shower, wrapped up in a robe and laid back in bed, curled into a ball, you scroll through your phone to distract yourself. Somehow your thumb finds Jimin’s phone number. You bite your lip, wondering whether or not you should message him. You just want someone to talk to—someone to hold.

[You - 11:36 PM] hey

You lay your phone down, hoping for a quick response. You idly drum your fingers against your sheets, resisting the urge to cry again as your thoughts are muddled by images of Jungkook and Sooyoung.

[Jimin - 11:39 PM] what’s up? It’s pretty late

[You - 11:39 PM] yeah I guess it is… you’re probably resting before the big game tomorrow… I just wanted someone to talk to and you always say you’re here for me

Seconds after sending that message, your phone begins to buzz as a photo of Jimin pops up on your screen.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out croaked, parched because of all the crying you’ve been doing.

“What’s wrong?” He sounds upset, not at you but because he’s worried. At least you know one person cares about you.

“I just feel like an idiot.” Your voice wavers, threatening to choke up again and start to sob. “I just—I want to talk to someone right now.”

There’s silence on the line and then the sound of sheets rustling.

“Hello?” You call.

“I’m coming over.”

“Y-You don’t have to,” you stutter, wiping away a stray tear. “The championship is tomorrow. You need sleep.”

“And you need me, so I’m coming.”

It isn’t negotiable for him. He hangs up right after, leaving you to wait for his arrival almost ten minutes later despite living almost thirty minutes away.

Jimin arrives with his hair in disarray, a tee shirt, and pajama bottoms, and his soccer bag slung over his shoulder. You wrap the robe around you tighter, hoping to cover the hickeys along your collar away from sight. He rushes forward without an invitation to envelop you in a comforting hug.

“The fuck happened? Was it Jungkook?”

His questions are drowned out as you allow yourself to ease into him, releasing all the tension you’ve built.

“Don’t talk about him.”

That’s all he needs to know to close his mouth and guide you to the couch, reminding himself to deal with the problem later and comfort you first.

For a while it’s just silence, time ticking away as you sit together in each other’s arms, and then your sniffles, sobs, and tears. They come in waves of different emotions: regret, sorrow, and anger.

“I should have been smarter. I knew he loved her. He said he still had feelings for her! I’m such an idiot!”

“You’re not an idiot. Stop blaming yourself for Jungkook’s mistakes. None of this is your fault, okay?”

“But I shouldn’t have agreed to go along with his stupid plan!”

“Wait, what plan?”

You wipe your nose on the back of your sleeve and sigh, “He wanted to make Sooyoung jealous so she’d want him back, so we pretended to date.”

“He used you?”

You can feel his temper flaring in the way his posture straightens and his hands tighten around your waist.

When the front door creaks open both your heads whip around to find Jungkook sneaking back into the house, freshly disarrayed hair. Once he spots the two of you cuddled up on the couch in each other’s arms, he pauses underneath the door frame as he gapes at your teary, puffy eyes.

“I can’t believe you,” Jimin sneers, rising off the couch with nothing but contempt written on his face.

“Don’t,” you weakly murmur, pulling on his hand before he can advance any further.

“What are you doing here?”

“What the fuck do you think I’m doing here? You think you can just sleep with Y/N and then go off to fuck your ex who cheated on you?”

Jimin rips his hand from your grasp, unable to contain the anger he’s built up from watching you cry over Jungkook.

Jungkook eases back towards the hanging mirror, raising his hands up as a feeble way to shield himself from the older’s advances. Too afraid of the menacing look in Jimin’s eyes.

“I know I shouldn’t have-”

An excruciatingly, sharp crack of bone and flesh connecting and shards of glass shattering, resonating throughout the living room before Jungkook can finish his sentence. Pieces of broken mirror scatter all around Jungkook’s feet along with drops of blood as he curses, sliding to the floor and holding his shoulder.

“Jimin!” You exclaim, rushing from the couch to Jungkook’s side and inspecting his scratched up arm. “Shit, you didn’t need to do that!”

“Maybe I didn’t, but he deserves it,” Jimin spits, refusing to come to Jungkook’s aid.

There aren’t deep shards of glass embedded Jungkook’s arm, it’s just minor cuts scattered across his skin. Thankfully, it’s nothing that calls for serious medical attention.

“Are you alright?”

Jungkook chuckles, wincing as his freshly bruised jaw begins to burn as his mouth moves, “That’s like… seven years of bad luck, isn’t it?”

He knows how badly he fucked up and how badly you must hate him now. He doesn’t know what else to say.

You’re in no mood to laugh with him.

“Come on.” You tug on his hands, standing up to help him on his feet. “Get up and put some ice on your face.”

Jungkook wobbles to his feet, cradling his jaw and sidestepping around Jimin who stands firmly in the path leading to the kitchen.

“You can stay at my place tonight if you want,” Jimin offers as soon as Jungkook is out of sight and rummaging for a bag to put ice in, “if you’re not comfortable staying here alone with him.”

“There’s nothing worse he can do now, Jimin,” you sigh, looking around for something to sweep up the glass. You don’t want Jimin hovering over you the whole night, you feel bad enough forcing him out of bed, but it’ll just cause more tension if he and Jungkook stay under the same roof. “You might as well go home. There’s a game tomorrow.”

“I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’ll be fine.”

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Jimin hesitantly says, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

You follow after Jimin as he moves to the door. You wave him off and shut the door behind him, letting out a frustrated huff as you look back at Jungkook. He’s is still in the kitchen leaning against the island and tenderly holding an ice pack to his jaw. You don’t know whether to approach him or just walk away, back to your room where you’ll continue to wallow alone.

“I’m sorry.”

It’s a pathetic apology, murmured under his breath as you walk past the kitchen. You pause, stepping back beneath the threshold.

“Sorry for what? Sorry that you slept with me or sorry that you took back Sooyoung right after?”

You watch Jungkook wince, not from the throbbing on his cheek but from the harshness of your words. He stares at the floor, not daring to face you.

You leave him behind not bothering to say goodnight.

—

The morning of the championship game comes too quickly and you still can’t find it in your heart to forgive Jungkook. When you hear the sounds of Jungkook shuffling in the hallway out to the kitchen for his ritual bowl of cereal, his footsteps come to a stop in front of your door.

He hesitates to knock, choosing to stand in the hallway and dejectedly stare at your door. You listen as his footsteps recede. As you silently stare at your bedroom door, wondering if you should go out.

You know you’re supposed to be there for him today as his ‘lucky charm,’ but how are you supposed to crawl out of bed and be there for him when he couldn’t be bothered to stay with you last night?

You curl yourself further into your blankets, shielding yourself from the sounds of Jungkook pouring his cereal, zipping up his duffle bag, shooing Pitch away, then walking out the front door alone.

Once the front door shuts, you pull yourself out of bed, dragging along a blanket over your head and into the living room where you fall on the couch with a defeated sigh. Pitch meows before jumping up to snuggly curl beside your feet.

His game should be ending already and if it were a perfect world you two would’ve been headed to dinner. You bought a dress already, before yesterday, you were counting down the days until the game but now you’re just counting down the minutes that you won’t be. You want to go to dinner, sit and talk, laugh and pretend he didn’t break your heart the night before.

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] we lost the game :/

[Jungkook - 6:47 PM] it was my fault rlly… i was distracted. everything is my fault.

[Jungkook - 6:51 PM] will you still meet me for dinner?

You toss your phone aside, leaving his texts unanswered. His last message makes you wonder though. You want to go to a fancy dinner and just pretend for a night that nothing ever went wrong between the two of you. Might as well pretend to get ready, pretend that Jungkook could love you the same way, pretend to be happy.

“Pitch, you love me, don’t you?” You murmur, running your hands along his spine before standing to prepare for what could’ve been a good night.

It wasn’t that Jungkook didn’t love you, it was that he couldn’t love you the same way you did him.

Pitch lets out a content meow, following after you into your bedroom.

You pick out the dress hanging in your closet, laying it down on your bed.

“I’m not going to forgive him so easily, Pitch,” you say as Pitch seems to give you a look saying ‘really?’. “I just want to feel good about myself for once,” you huff. This is all for you. Maybe you'll dress up and stay on the couch all day eating ice cream and watching movies. Fancy dresses don’t have to mean fancy dinner. Fancy dresses are just a confidence booster.

Minutes turn to an hour and you’re finally ready for absolutely nothing—no date, no night out with your friends—just nothing. But you feel good, a little better than before, looking at yourself in the mirror.

“His loss,” you confidently say, trying hard to convince yourself to stay positive.

[Jungkook - 7:32 PM] hey im at the restaurant if you decide to meet me… i really hope you do. Let’s start over.

[Jungkook - 7:35 PM] i’ll wait if thats what it takes.

Reading his texts make you feel guilty for standing him up, but you won’t go. You stay put right where you are, comfortably lounging on the couch with a tub of ice cream and Pitch at your side.

“He’s just going to have to sit there a little while longer.”

When Pitch jumps off the couch running over to his litter box, you sit back with a sigh, playing with the hem of your dress.

When the clock touches half-past eight o’clock, the door unlocks and Jungkook walks through with a bouquet clutched in his hands. He’s as dressed up as you are, wearing a tucked in a white button-up with black slacks. He stops once he sees you, dressed up and alone.

“You look,” he’s awestruck, “beautiful.”

“Thank you… You look good too,” you awkwardly say, eyes darting around to avoid his

“Oh,” he flushes, flattening out the front of his shirt. He realizes the flowers in his hands, holding out to you hesitantly. “I-I bought you flowers.” The scarlet petals almost match the shade of his cheeks as he presents the red flowers wrapped in a thin layer of plastic to you.

You take them from him, running your fingers delicately over the petals.

Glancing over at the purple and black bruise Jimin had given him last night, you almost wince at the sight. “How are you?”

Jungkook grimaces, “I’m okay, I guess. I-I waited for you. At dinner. You never showed so the waiter felt kinda bad for me,” he faintly chuckles, shoving his hands into his pockets, “he said I could come back again if ‘my date ever changed her mind’ and let me make a new reservation.”

You nod slowly, twisting the frills of your decorative pillows. It’s just silence, then—

“I was fucking stupid for kissing her,” he admits suddenly, “I swear, I would take it back. I-I just… we were together for a long time. It’s hard to just forget how I feel.”

“So now what?”

“I told her I can’t be with her that’s why I left last night. I… I love you. Let’s start over and let’s do this right.”

The twinge you feel in your chest, the sinking feeling in your stomach, tells you how guilty he really is.

Jungkook rounds the corner of the couch to sit beside you, thighs touching, reminding you of last night. You scoot away, placing the flowers between your bodies to separate yourselves.

“Stop.”

He accepts the distance, not wanting to push you further away.

“I’m sorry. I-I just want a second chance to prove that I do care about you.” The genuine look in his eyes shows you only regret and the promise to make it up.

You look down at the flowers between the two of you, picking at the petals. You don’t want to lose Jungkook as a friend, even if he did break your heart. He will always be your best friend. He wants to make it work, and you want to give him a chance to make it up. Maybe you won’t fully return the feelings that were once there, but you can still make an effort to forgive him.

“Okay. Let’s start over.”

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #btssmutclub #bangtanarmynet #kwritersworldnet #btsguild #bts fanfiction #jungkook fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts drabbles #bts reactions #jungkook x reader

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moonraccoon-exe · 5 years

Text

You know what sorta people I don’t understand, and I’ve seen a lot lately?

The ones that comment...unrelated things under an artwork? Idk how to explain it, but it’s like, not hate, not intentionally or straight attacking the artwork itself, but still...off comments.

The sort like, to recall some I’ve seen lately, it’s a super phenomenal artwork and someone goes

“I’m not even in the fandom or have ever played this game or anything related so what is this, is he upside down? where’s that hair coming from? WTF is that? how does this work?”

like...?? thanks for your unnecessary contribution? that was not hurtful at all please tell me more of how you don’t know the context but you’re still around not understanding this haha thank you, much useful very feedback!

Or it’s a super good artwork of a ship and someone goes

“But imagine (this other ship of this other unrelated different fandom)”

Like. Good? I gUESS? tha...n...ks...?

“this character and I share birthday”

Like. Cool jeremy but. the artwork. Did you like it? Did you not like it? Good thing to know you share a birthday but. Why not make your own post? Or why here and not via chat? WHY HERE? WHY NECESSARILY HERE?

“The artstyle reminds me of X which I didn’t like”

THEN WHY ARE YOU COMMENTING JUST SCROLL PAST IT

I mean I get it if it’s shitposting...and sometimes not even then because that’s how unrelated some comments are, but I’ve seen this happen in a lot of stunning, prize-worthy artworks that must have taken so much time & effort & passion & skill, and there’s still comments like

“Idk what fandom this is” “his arm looks like a lamp lol” “this reminds me of this other unrelated thing” “why in the last panel does he turn into his younger self lol” “the character depicted and I sleep in the same pose lol” “idk who the characters are” “it’s 3 am i’m making waffles and I see this lol” “I never share things like this” “my school has a chalkboard that looks identical!” “i have a sweater like that lmao” “something similar happened to me except it was this and that instead of that” “this looks like *this other artist* style” “When I first looked at it I thought it was this other fandom but then I saw it was not! :(” Or like

*super emotional, incredibly beautiful, detailed, stunningly colored wordless comic depicting a heartbreaking scene*

“this isn’t accurate because the real life actor doesn’t like burger king”

Like??? COOL, I guESS katherine but was that comment necessary? Was it. Was it...ultimately NECESSARY, do you believe in your heart, deep in your soul itself, if you sit and thoroughly think it through and come to the conclusion that yes, it is ultimately necessary that you HAD to say it even though there’s no way the artist can answer because you’re not saying something...anything related at ALL?

Like, you don’t need to praise it with a whole paragraph, but even just a ‘cool!’ or ‘nice!’ does WONDERS to the artists’ self-esteems, but when you go “this isn’t my fandom” there’s...?? no way the artist can know if you liked it? disliked it? Say SORRY? Link you to something you actually like? WHAT DO YOU WANT ARTHUR, WHAT IS IT, HOW IS THAT COMMENT ANSWER-ABLE OR RELATED AT ALL?

I don’t say people can’t share their experiences or thoughts, you know I’m fan number 1 of commenting in creators’ works AND expressing everything you want to express, but there are comments that are COMPLETELY unnecessary, unrelated, and that can come off as hurtful for the artist.

Express every thought, feeling, experience you want to share, you say everything you want to say. But learn that there are places and people to tell them to. The limit of your freedom to express yourself ends where the line of respect for the other person starts. It’s not “stop commenting personal things, nobody cares” because yes, we care, some of us care. But tell those things to the people you know care, not under an artwork that the artist posted purposefully expecting people of the fandom to say something about the content itself because why else would they create something and share it if not to see what people think about it? If they wanted to know an unrelated story they would ask for it or make another post.

Wanna share an experience unrelated to the art, go make your own post, or hit someone up on DMs, show them the work and then make your comment to THEM to spare the artist from this, because they just want one person to say one word about their artwork, not completely unrelated comments that don’t even acknowledge the artwork at all like it’s less than a lamppost in the background. Why drop the comment under the artwork to no one other than the artist when you KNOW the artist has no clue what you’re talking about and when you’re not saying one single word about the art at all?

You don’t go to a violin solo concert, then go tell the violinist about how a dog was running outside when you arrived, they made that presentation to be the protagonist for once, can you please not....just...can you please. NOT? You don’t go see your friend act in the theatre play they rehearsed for months, the entries are free because they’re starting and want their work to be to everyone’s reach so it can be known because it isn’t yet, and then after two hours of watching your friend gifting you their years or months of work and passion and effort, the first and ONLY thing you tell them when they come off stage expecting to know if you liked it is “I have the same shirt you know”. You. DON’T.

Like, it’s cool to know you saw this at 2 am or that your bird scared you when you were seeing it or that you have slippers that look like the background’s stuffed toy or that you sleep like the character, it’s super cool much interesting haha 10/10 BUT DID YOU LIKE THE FUCKING ARTWORK, DID YOU AT LEAST LOOK AT IT?

The artists put a lot of their time and best skills and effort and so much heart into what they’re doing, and you come up with an unrelated comment that in many cases YES, THEY COME OFF AS HURTFUL. Express impressions, feelings that came out thanks to the artwork, thoughts on what you think about it, but the unrelated comments are just unnecessary. Not your fandom, not your ship, don’t know what’s going on, THEN FUCKING SCROLL PAST IT, or at least say something on the visuals if you want to support the artist!

Nobody gets any useful knowledge when you comment under an art “I don’t know the characters”. Well the artist does, that’s why they drew it you piece of unflavored discount cracker. Be nice to artists, if you don’t know the fandom or ship, praise the visuals, if you don’t like the visuals fucking scroll past it, why do some people have to stop and comment an unrelated, totally off, not helpful (not even in a bad way), not answer-able thing?

OR DON’T SAY ANYTHING DAMMIT. UNRELATED COMMENTS ARE AS BAD AS HATE-BASED COMMENTS, but at least hate could be replied to in a logical way.

Hate at least acknowledges the art and is most times based on envy. Unrelated comments dismiss the artwork like it it doesn’t matter, like nobody cares, like it doesn’t exist. Which, in my experience in life, hurts more than being hated. So just. Don’t.

If you’re not going to be grateful, then at least be respectful.

#coonrants #coontalks #lmao i'm sorry please don't attack me. I've just seen it so much more frequently than usual and I feel terrible for the artists #They work so hard...they put so much effort and passion and love and care into it...they create something from deep within their hearts #and peopel come up with comments that are '....' at best and hurtful at worst and most of the times #Like. HOW DIFFICULT IS IT TO SCROLL PAST SOMETHING YOU DON'T KNOW RO DON'T LIKE #IT'S NOT THAT DIFFICULT BARBARA PLEASE GO SIT DOWN NOBODY CARES #i tried very hard to not say 'nobody cares' but really even to myself...and a lot of you know me very well #extra hyper patient turbo patient like you won't know someone more patient than this moonie raccoonie #but even i have read comments that make me have that sensation of nobody cares #*masterpiece and jewel of an artwork* *someone has to go make some unrelated comment*#they make me have the full sensation of the sentence neville no offense but i really don't care #also please correct me if i'm morally wrong...i may be skipping something that i didn't think about so i'm sorry if this is offensive or #wrong. Please do correct me if you think it's necessary. I'm open to change for the better #but yes long story short be nice to creators and if your comment doesn't help neither for good or bad then just. Shh quiet you little bird #somebody once said it right? Forgot the person but the quote was more or less like 'if what you're going to say won't help make any #improvement...then don't say it'#but yes i've been having this in my chest for so long and two artists specifically who have made either the most emotional pieces i've #ever seen in my life or the most mindblowingly detailed have had this. So far only one has complained so far I'm aware #but that an artist doesn't complain doesn't mena THEY'RE NOT READING /AND FEELING/ U DISCOUNT CRACKERS #i've never understood...why it is so hard to be good to others. Or why we're so selfish everything we want to talk we make it about ourselve #acknowledge others. Loneliness is a fucker. Don't throw it at others by taking their spotlight to yourself. MAke others feel known #Feel known. Feel seen. If you won't appreciate them then just let them know they're acknowledged.#don't make anyone feel like a ghost. Especially not a creator because they take part of themselves and add something beautiful to #this ugly world...and yet we're brave enough to dismiss them as unimportant. Great. Speaks fantastic about humankind #Also I promise I'm back...just gimme time before starting to reply and post again ahahah ;w;

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eeveevie · 5 years

Text

revelations (1/2)

Just as Brynjolf is coming to terms with his true feelings for Fiona, he learns about her true identity thanks to a dragon attack on Riften. She is the Dragonborn. Emotions run high, and he questions if anything they ever shared was real.

Just when things couldn't get worse, Mercer decides this is the best time to take Fiona to Winterhold for a mission. Can her and Brynjolf's already ambiguous relationship recover from this betrayal of trust?

x - x

*I was asked by a few people (because it is referenced in a few of my stories for the pairing) at what point does Brynjolf learn that Fiona is the Dragonborn. This is it! A dragon battle in Riften, that leads to a huge-ass argument about lies/betrayal. Angst-fest incoming! This has some slight references to a story I haven’t published yet, but have 80% written, so it made sense while I was completing this.

There is a follow-up companion piece to this that bridges the gap between this story and "Betrayal and Forgiveness." Basically will be Bryn during the events of "Speaking With Silence". Will be posted as a second part in a few days. *

Brynjolf x f!Dragonborn (Fiona)

3306 words (under a cut) | Ao3

Part One: To Hide the Truth

The two sat at a table in the Flaggon, content in their silence as they ate their meals and drank their mead, taking in the surrounding chatter of their Guildmates. Brynjolf was perfectly content to stay there all evening if it meant studying Fiona’s face, watching the small secret smile on her red-painted lips, the sparkle of her sapphire eyes when they danced over to meet his. He couldn’t recall a time he had ever felt so content with a person—let alone a woman—not needing conversation to pass the time.

For weeks now he had been slowly coming to terms with the fact that the affection he held for her was much stronger than friendship, that the yearning in his heart went beyond flirting, lingering touches and stolen kisses. Fiona—the talented thief who had joined their ranks all those months ago had managed to sneak in and steal his heart in the process. Mara curse him, he wanted her—in every sense of the way—but something was holding him back. For all the confidence he had in being the Guild’s second, the thought of baring his emotions to the woman he cared for was terrifying, uncharted territory.

When Fiona’s boot twitched against his under the table, he knew she was starting a flirtatious game, one that he eagerly accepted with a small returned tap to her ankle. She bit back a grin as they continued, their feet pressing back and forth against one another in playful pushes for dominance. Finally, Brynjolf crossed his ankles over her own, lightly pinning her feet to the floor. She squirmed in her seat but let out a delightful laugh, head tossing back to expose the column of her neck that he so desperately wanted to kiss and mark as his own. Perhaps he’d find the courage to tell her tonight and act on these damned feelings—after a few more drinks, of course.

Her wide smile faltered with the first shake of the table, the bottles on Vekel’s shelf clinking together, a few falling to shatter on the ground. The bartender turned around startled and upset, but Brynjolf stayed focused on Fiona’s expression as her eyes flicked upward, lips forming a thin line as her jaw clenched shut. Another, more intense rumble echoed through the tavern, this time knocking more bottles and cutlery from the tables and countertops. As members of the Guild began to stand and move out of alarm, Brynjolf watched as Fiona remained curiously still, her eyes still glued to the ceiling.

“What is it?” Delvin asked to nobody in particular. “A quake or somethin’?”

Fiona blinked, quietly answering. “No.”

Before anybody could question her, there was a commotion at the Cistern entrance, a few bodies rushing to make their way into the Flaggon. Sapphire led the pack, her eyes wide as she bent over, breathless. She waved a hand upwards, and in the general direction of where the booming sounds had come from.

“A dragon,” she said. Brynjolf darted his gaze back to Fiona, whose brows had furrowed at the confirmation of what she already expected. Sapphire continued, shaking her head wildly. “I was in the marketplace when it attacked. Barely made it down here—”

Fiona stood up with a start, the chair she was just sitting in nearly toppling to the ground as another tremor shook through the Ratways, more powerful than the previous ones. Brynjolf watched her path for all of five steps before realizing where she was heading, scrambling to stand and walk after her.

“Lass!” he yelped, the two squeezing through the makeshift bookcase door that led back through to the Cistern. Inside, the remaining Guild members were laying low, speaking in hushed tones about the possible events occurring topside. “What are you doing?”

“I’m going to help,” she explained plainly, not bothering to stop to turn to face him.

“What are you talking about?” Brynjolf asked in alarm. “We don’t have to go up there—”

“You’re right,” Fiona barked back at him, her tone causing him to pause in his hurried steps to follow her across the walkway to the graveyard exit. “We don’t. But I’m not going to stand around down here and let the city be destroyed when I’m the only one who can defeat it.”

What?

Brynjolf rushed to catch up with her, reaching out to grip her by the elbow. He hadn’t meant to catch her so roughly, but her words didn’t sound like boasting. Fiona stared down at his hand on her arm before her eyes glanced up to meet his. The emotions there only confused him further—determination and fear were to be expected, but sadness and guilt? She pulled away from him again, wordlessly moving to leave the Ratways to the surface. Brynjolf steadied himself with a deep breath before realizing there wasn’t enough potions on Tamriel to calm his nerves—a dragon? He quickly followed Fiona up the ladder, thinking to himself that love made a person do crazy things.

Riften was known for its magnificent sunsets—the way the sunlight caught the lake waters and the foliage of the surrounding trees was truly a sight to behold. And when the evening mist settled in and the bright auroras lit up the evening sky—it any wonder that the town attracted so many visitors to the marketplace and pier just to get a glimpse. Of course, that evening, as the sun was setting, a different kind of shadow swept across the hold, sending the city into chaos.

As Brynjolf and Fiona ascended from the Cistern they were met with the sounds of screams, guardsmen shouting orders to citizens and soldiers, anybody who was able-bodied to help bring down the beast currently circling Mistveil Keep. The dragon’s roars heard loud and clear, relentless as it echoed across the sky. When Brynjolf looked to Fiona, her expression was exceedingly difficult to read as she focused on the dragon’s sounds, as if she was trying to interpret them.

Finally, she glanced at him, a steady calmness to her tone. “Protect the citizens. It’s an Elder Frost Dragon, so don’t do anything reckless,” she paused before adding with precision, “you mustn’t get in the way of its unrelenting force—the shout will break every bone in your body—killing a mortal man.”

Brynjolf listened, his mind rushing a mile a minute as her words started to make sense. He was a Nord, these stories weren’t unknown to his kin—but they were just that—stories, rumors that had been so far removed from him and his life in Riften. Ulfric killing the High King with a shout? The dragon attack in Helgen? The Greybeards suddenly summoning this cryptic Dragonborn? Dragonborn—Vekel had heard she was a Nord woman, but that she had disappeared months ago. Right around the same time Fiona had appeared in Riften and joined the Thieves Guild. When she had come into Brynjolf’s life and changed everything.

“Fiona,” he said her name slowly, and her eyes shined in way that told him she understood that he knew.

The veneer broke away, her bottom lip trembling as she stepped closer to reach for his hand, but he surprised even himself when he flinched away. She braced herself, fisting her hand closed. “I’m sorry for not telling you before.”

Brynjolf wanted to argue—a little late for that—but with the dragon’s screech, they were starkly reminded that this was neither the time nor place. Fiona shot him one last pleading look before sprinting off in the general direction of the Keep, her gaze quickly focusing on the enemy. An overwhelming sense of dismay settled in Brynjolf’s gut, and his heart wedged in his throat—he didn’t want to believe it, that she had been hiding this from the Guild, from him the entire time.

As he rushed across the marketplace to do as she asked, his mind continued to race—Fiona had lied from the very start, and now the last several months of their relationship started to crumble before his very eyes. Was any of it real? Was she just stringing him along? As blissful and content as he had felt earlier that evening, as close as he had been to revealing how he felt about her, now all he could feel was contempt.

“Dovahkiin!”

Brynjolf snapped his head skyward as the dragon swept low across the marketplace, landing on the roof of Black-Briar Manor. It arced its head side-to-side, expelling a large gust of frost that caught a grouping of guards on the wooden planks below, killing most of them instantly. Suddenly, an arrow pieced right between the dragon’s eyes, causing it to rear up in pain, and stopping the flow of ice. The dark ebony color told Brynjolf exactly who had shot it, and he followed the path until he found Fiona crouched atop the Bee and Barb’s roof, a mirror image of the dragon.

It kicked up from the Black-Briar Manor, hovering just long enough for Fiona to fire three more projectiles, all making their mark within the beast’s belly before it soared towards her. Brynjolf anticipated more shots from her bow—she was one of the best archers he knew and could easily hit a moving target, but instead she stood and lowered her weapon.

“YOL!”

A stream of fire blasted from Fiona’s lips, the echoing sound of her voice carrying the heat directly towards the dragon and engulfing it in flames. It shrieked, its large wings flapping in a panicked frenzy to fly away. Brynjolf could only watch in wonder, not realizing he had been holding his breath until he felt dizzy. The lass could breathe fire. He followed Fiona’s movements as she tracked the dragon, moving beyond the city’s northern gates before crashing to ground in a terrific crumble. She leapt from the roof without a second thought, landing into a sprint to follow. He quickly chased after, as did many of the guards, seemingly bewildered at what was happening to their city.

Beyond the gates, the dragon lay thrashing, dark red blood oozing from its wounds even as the fire Fiona inflicted upon it died out. She lunged at it with a bravery Brynjolf had never seen in any warrior and one he could only dream of having. With one hand clutching the dragon’s neck she used her other hand to plunge her dagger deep within its jugular, tossing her legs across the beast’s head to steady her movements as it tried to toss her away. Fiona continued to cut and stab, her movements unrelenting even as the dragon slowed, her only stopping when the dragon slumped across the ground.

The dragon was dead.

Almost immediately the guards were shouting in celebration, moving to crowd Fiona as she simply stared down at the dead beast. But it wasn’t over. The thick black scales began to disintegrate and within mere seconds, there was nothing left but bones and ash. Swirls of yellow and orange spiraled upwards and condensed, concentrating as they searched for a host. Like a breath, Fiona inhaled the energy, her body glowing alive with the dragon’s soul before in an instant, all was calm, as if nothing had happened.

A guard spoke first. “Dragonborn, it is an honor.”

She didn’t say anything, only turning to find Brynjolf’s gaze where he lingered by the city gates. They stared at each other in silence, even as the crowd of spectators grew to cheer and congratulate Fiona on her victory. But it was hollow to her as she noticed that Brynjolf wasn’t joining in on the merriment. How could he when this power of hers had been unknown to him less than an hour prior? There was no denying it, now that he had seen it with his own eyes. She was the Dragonborn and things between them would never be the same.

They returned to the Cistern without speaking a word to one another, the tension rising as the silence stretched. As if the Guild could see strain between the two, they strayed afar, a few even scampering away as Fiona briskly made her way to one of the back rooms. Brynjolf followed, determined to have her answer for her deception. As soon as they crossed the threshold of the training room he reached out, this time grabbing her arm much rougher than before. Fiona spun around on her heel, eyes widening in alarm as she blinked up at him, face so different from the fierce warrior that had just single-handedly defeated a dragon.

“I suspect you have questions,” she said slowly, eyeing his hand on her arm.

Brynjolf furrowed his brow, irritated beyond belief. What kind of game was she playing at? Was she playing coy just to get under his skin? He shook her once, but it only made her expression obscure into something akin to fear. “You’re damn right I have questions!”

Fiona yanked herself free from his grip, but did not move away, squaring her shoulders as she met his burning gaze. “I can start from the beginning, when I came to Skyrim, what it means to be—”

“No, no,” he interrupted with a curt, mocking laugh. “I get to ask the questions.”

He began to pace before her in a short path, bringing one hand up to rifle through his hair. “Why did you come to Riften?”

“I was looking for someone in the Ratways,” she started to explain. “Like I told you when we first—”

“Just stop,” he groaned in reply, interjecting her again. He covered his face with a hand, wiping it across his brow before rubbing at his jaw. Their first—second—meeting in the Bee and Barb—it wasn’t something he really wanted to reflect on right this moment. Considering that all his happy memories with the lass were quickly becoming tainted, he supposed it truly didn’t matter. Regardless, he shook his head. “I’d rather you not lie about that.”

“I’m not lying.”

“Why exactly should I believe you?” he asked. “Especially now?”

Fiona’s expression fell, her eyes darting across his face in a silent plea of sorts. “Bryn,” her voice was low. “Brynjolf, you’re the last person I wanted to keep this from. I never expected…I never meant to hurt you.”

“But you did,” he retorted, coldly. He crossed his arms. “I’m not overly interested in the reasons why. Not anymore. I’m more interested in if anything else you ever told the Guild was the truth. What you told me was the truth. If everything we ever shared was just one big fantasy that you never planned on staying in.”

“O—Of course it was the truth!” Fiona’s voice trembled as she stepped closer to him, her eyes widening in surprise at his words. Even he was shocked at his candor, the raw emotion flowing through him. But all the affection he had felt for the woman standing before him was missing, and his heart wasn’t aching with a want to tell her he wanted her—it was aching with a betrayal he hadn’t felt before.

“How am I supposed to believe that, Fiona?” he asked in a desperate tone. His mind rushed with every detail they had every shared, from mundane to intimate and personal, over the last several months. “Are your parents even dead?”

She slapped him instantly, the sharp sting of her hand leaving a burning sensation along his jaw. Brynjolf immediately knew that he deserved it—guilt fluttered through his veins as he noticed the tears pooling in her eyes. He had seen her cry before, but he had never imagined that he’d one day be the direct cause. So not everything was a lie—but Fiona had still chosen to omit the largest truth about herself, and that was something that Brynjolf could not forget, or possibly forgive.

“I can’t believe I ever thought—” Fiona hesitated, her hand pressing to her forehead, and then to her eyes to wipe the stray spill of her tears that were flowing unapologetically now.

Brynjolf’s anger flared at what she could’ve possibly said, and he waved his hands in disagreement. “Oh no you don’t,” he argued. The sight of her tears made him less guilty, and more annoyed now. “You don’t get to …you betrayed my trust. I’m the one who gets to have second thoughts about our future now!”

“Excuse me?!” Fiona yelped, obviously taking large offense to his phrasing. “Cut the bullshit Bryn. You want to call me out on keeping secrets when you’ve kept plenty of your own as well! And don’t even get me started on playing stupid games with people’s emotions. You want to know how I feel?”

Brynjolf sarcastically rolled his eyes. “Oh lass, please enlighten me!”

“Tafiir,” she hushed, almost in an endearing way—he didn’t understand. Fiona shook her head, dissolving back into her irritation. “Sometimes I feel like I could…I could…”

“What are you going to do?” Brynjolf taunted, leaning in dangerously close to her face. “Shout at me?”

Fiona’s eyes darkened, and for a split second, he feared he had just signed his death-wish.

“If you two are quite done!”

Brynjolf and Fiona both turned, only moving the slightest bit away from one another at the sound of their Guildmaster’s booming voice. Mercer stepped into the room, expression one of disappointment and annoyance—though, he was always generally annoyed with something, Brynjolf thought.

“Fools, the two of you,” he spat. “Lowering yourselves to a lovers’ quarrel.”

Brynjolf bristled at the mention, and made to argue, but bit his tongue at Mercer’s icy glare. He glanced to Fiona and saw that while her jaw was clenched tight in frustration, there was the slightest blush to her cheeks—he tried not to let the appearance change his mind about how he felt about her now.

“I really ought to have split you up a long time ago,” Mercer suggested with crossed arms. “Perhaps this could’ve all been avoided.”

The two remained silent, as if they were children being scolded by their father. Mercer smirked, low grin causing an unsettling feeling to creep up Brynjolf’s spine. What was the Guildmaster planning?

“Fiona. It’s time you traveled with me. Now that you’ve made yourself useful and shown your worth,” he explained. “Gulum-Ei’s information about Karliah is taking us to Winterhold—Snow Veil Sanctum.”

“One way or another, this is going to end,” he said. Brynjolf felt perturbed by Mercer’s statement, but couldn’t place why, the feeling not dissipating even as the Guildmaster stepped away. He glanced back to look Fiona directly in the eyes. “I don’t like to be kept waiting.”

She stood up straight, swallowing down a lump in her throat before anxiously picking at her armor. It was still covered in dragon’s blood—she would need to pick up some belongings from her home before the trip—Brynjolf watched her nervous twitching and wondered if she was stalling. Fiona looked up at him, lips in a taught line as she held his gaze, silently pleading for him to say something. But he wouldn’t—he was past that, too exhausted to think of the right words to speak—if there were any.

All he felt now was numb. Perhaps some distance between them would do some good…even if that involved Mercer. Seemingly catching the hint, Fiona took a half-step away and then another, slowly moving further and further away until she was almost completely out of the room. At the last second Fiona glanced over her shoulder to peer at Brynjolf, their eyes locking for the briefest of moments. Neither said a word—no farewells, no last-minute apologies. He closed his eyes, if only to move past this moment as quickly as he could.

When he opened his eyes, she was gone.

leave a tumblr kudos? :)

#elder scrolls: skyrim #skyrim #brynjolf #brynjolf x f!dovahkiin #brynjolf x f!dragonborn #otp: I shall taunt you a second time #fanfic #I honestly don't know but it was wanted so here #I am proud of a lot of this

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askaceattorney · 5 years

Text

Dear Anthony,

Absolutely!

My maker ID is VTG-13G-3KF. Go forth and enjoy!

-The Mod

Dear Sinyove,

Co-mod still holds the reins for sure. I’m hardly around. I just wanted to be able to pop back in once and a while. Consider me a ghost from the past.

While it’s true I do randomly select letters from the queue, I don’t think I’ll be tagging them anything special. I don’t pick them because they’re random, I just grab them at random. Besides, if I tagged what I answered, you’d all know how little I’m around any more.

-The Mod

Dear Anonymous,

Co-Mod: Fan content’s all right. That rule just means that stuff made by fans (art, videos, fiction, etc.) shouldn’t be treated as if it actually happened to the characters involved. Sorry for missing this letter until now, by the way!

(Previous Letter)

Dear trearoos,

He could use the fiber. It’s fine.

-The Mod

Co-Mod: At least it wasn’t a broken glass bottle, though, right?

Dear Anonymous,

Co-Mod: Bad dog.

Dear Anonymous,

That’s private information.

-The Mod

Dear Sinyove,

Co-Mod: Dream on, not on your life, and...good question.

With the 2D sprites, I can sometimes edit them to create a more appropriate look, but there are occasions where a lack of different sprites hinders my creativity with their personalities (ex. Marvin Grossberg, Lisa Basil, etc.). In the case of 3D characters, there’s usually enough variety in their movements for me to capture the right emotions. Especially with Ms. Moody herself.

(Previous Letter)

Dear Anonymous,

Co-Mod: No need to apologize -- I’m impressed that someone could figure out that much. I had a feeling it was mostly random anyway, but thanks for your help!

Dear skibot99,

Co-Mod: Well, that explains a lot. I was beginning to wonder why so many people liked those checkboxes so much. Unfortunately, I don’t have a solution as someone who’s as ignorant as Phoenix when it comes to mobile devices. I asked Mod Maya about it, and she suggested that the best idea is to just delete the hashtags you don’t want after they all appear. Sure, it’s a hassle, but that’s technology for you.

If that doesn’t work, then no worries. We can usually tell when a letter is meant for a character instead of a Mod.

Dear Sinyove again,

Co-Mod: For me, Farewell, My Turnabout was an interesting case for both good and bad reasons. In terms of the story, it had great characters, surprising plot twists (including one that was fairly hard to see coming), a whole lot of suspense, and one of the most satisfying breakdowns in the series. Not to mention the heartwarming reunification near the end.

Besides being super sweet, seeing Maya safe and sound was the perfect way to resolve the unrelenting suspense of the trial.

In terms of the mechanics, on the other hand, it was mostly dreadful. There were at least a couple of parts where you’re faced with an all-or-nothing decision to make without much in the way of hints, and the final decision was unfair on a number of levels. Besides having to read Phoenix’s mind to know what the right answer is, your punishment for guessing wrong is just flat-out cruel. I’m sure I don’t need to go into detail with that one.

The Adventure of the Runaway Room was a lot of fun for me, even if I only watched it instead of playing it, and I don’t have many complaints about it, if any. In it, we’re introduced to the Jurist System, we meet all sorts of hilarious British folks, and things end quite unexpectedly, to say the least.

I’m just now realizing why you asked about these two cases in particular, by the way -- in each of them, the defendant is guilty. In the first case, this changed the game’s goal from winning the case to strategically rescuing a hostage while making sure the guilty party receives justice. In the second case, it created a huge plot twist that set us up for more down the road. Either way, it’s nice to know that the defendants in this series aren’t always innocent third parties in need of a defense attorney. Even that might get boring after awhile.

And yeah, I definitely agree with you about that suit jacket. I’d probably take it back if I were you.

-The Mods

#Anthony #Anonymous #trearoos #sinyove #skibot99 #Mod Post #The Mod #Co Mod

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rumbelleshowdown · 5 years

Text

Before Their Long Journey

Author: Purple Flourish Prompt: not like last time Group: D

There was an air of excitement that permeated the Gold household. Belle was an unrestrained whirlwind, rushing from room to room in the large pink home gathering up books and toys and clothes, trying to figure out how to pack them all. This was the trip that they had been planning for ever since Gideon’s first birthday. To be able to fill the travel book Rumple had given them with so many possible memories, Belle was ecstatic.

“Oh!” she exclaimed, clapping her hands together as she realized their travel book wasn’t in the piles of books that remained around her. It wouldn’t do to forget that, of all things, she berated herself. It must still be in their bedroom, from their last planning session, where she had been breathlessly describing more locations she wanted to add to their itinerary as Rumple patiently captured all the destinations on the front page of the book.

“Paris is a must see. All I’ve read about the City of Lights can’t possibly do it justice. The Louvre, the Arc of Triumph, and of course, the Eiffel Tower! Perhaps Gideon may fuss about the height, oh, but Rumple we must view the city from the top.

“Germany's countryside is expansive and just gorgeous. Imagine! Visiting a quaint little town where everyone knows everyone else. I’m sure it would be so very peaceful, Rumple.

“Have you heard of the legend of the Walking Statues? Easter Island in South America has almost a thousand of these statues that for the longest time no one could figure out how they got to where they are!

“And of course, when we get back to our realm, we must go to Arendelle! I would love to see Anna again.”

She smiled to herself as she climbed the stairs. The excitement building up in her the past two weeks since he had given her the book had finally come to a climax as their conversations became more and more focused on their imminent travel. As she entered the bedroom, she could hear from downstairs the creak of a door opening and closing, accompanied by delightful childish giggling and the soft brogue of her beloved husband. Belle quickly found the travel book by her nightstand where she had left it and made her way back downstairs.

At the entrance way to the living room where she had sprawled out all of her things, Rumpelstiltskin stood holding his one-year-old son in his arms poking at various bits on his face, which cued such strong laughter from the child. As he got booped on his cheek, his forehead, his nose, Gideon’s excitement intensified as he tried and failed to grab the offending hand.

When Belle had reached the bottom of the stairs with the book, the two boys in her life finally let their game rest to greet her. Gideon stuck out his arms to her. “Did you have fun today, visiting your papa’s shop?” Belle cooed, as she took Gideon into her arms and bounced him on her hip slightly. Still coursing with the simple excitement from his game with his father, Gideon nodded vigorously before giving his mother a huge hug. He nuzzled his face into her neck.

Rumple glanced around the mess of luggage in the living room. Seeing Belle’s things littered everywhere as she attempted to pack brought him more joy than he could have possibly imagined. It had been hardly more than a year since their relationship had mended, and he could still not believe that she was still here with him right now. As if to assure his mind once again that this was not a delusion, he placed his hand on Belle’s shoulder and gave it a slight squeeze. She’s really here.

“I’m sorry the mess is just getting worse, Rumple.” Belle said, having followed his eyes as he had peered across the room. He shook his head.

“Please, never apologize. This is the new beginning that we were searching for all those years that’s finally starting to take hold. I am just very happy for you, Belle. For us.” He placed his other hand on her other shoulder and pulled both her and their son in for a hug. Gideon put a lazy arm around his father’s neck as they embraced.

Belle and Rumple’s forehead touched and they could feel the warmth emanating from the other. This was peace, what they had been able to build over the last year with Gideon. No curses, no monsters, no villains. Rumple placed his hand on Belle’s neck, stroking her cheek with his thumb and glanced down at her lips which looked always so very inviting to him. As if giving her permission, Belle placed her free hand on the nape of his neck, letting her fingers sift through his hair.

When its true love, every kiss is magical. They’ve had plenty of amazing kisses since they had reconciled and yet Rumple always felt like the next kiss they shared was much more powerful than the last. The knowledge that they were together again, that he was on the right path this time, that they would spend eternity together; that’s what made each successive kiss much more powerful to him.

This one was no exception. Even with Gideon in tow, the Golds had a soft and tender kiss that lingered as neither one wished to pull away. It was only a modest meeting, and yet yearning exploded inside Rumple for more. If he could taste Belle’s lips every moment of every day, that would be ecstasy. Perhaps tonight they could have a bit more fun after Gideon falls asleep-

“Too!” Gideon gurgled from his mother’s arms. Feeling left out, Gideon had puckered his lips and had grabbed on to both of his parent’s sleeves, trying to pull himself closer to their faces. Laughter escaping from both Belle and Rumple, they diverted their attention away from each other and planted a kiss on both of their son’s cheeks. Contented, Gideon gave both of his parents arms a pat and dropped his head back into his mother’s shoulder. Belle and Rumple’s eyes meet once more. Emotions coursed through him as he took her available hand in his.

“Belle.” He said with a large contented sigh, “ I know that I’ve been selfish and fearful of losing my power in the past. And I want to be completely honest, I don’t need it when I’m with you. My love for you has never been my weakness, it’s the strongest thing that burns within me. Unlike the last time when I was unprepared to give up power for someone I loved dearly and lost them, I am ready. I will not be self-centered and cowardly from now on. The two of you are my life.”

Belle beamed at him, her heart overflowing. “Rumple. I always have faith in you. You were a Savior once, you have the light within you. This is just another way you’re finally able to break away from this corrosive parasite that had once taken control of your life.” She said, rubbing her hand on his arm as a sign of assurance. Rumple sighed with a soft smile and closed his eyes.

“Your continuous and unrelenting belief in me is what has kept me going all this time.”

Belle’s blue eyes showed nothing but warmth when he opened his to look upon her again. “Rumple, I found something worth fighting for, as did you. Together is where we belong. I know we’ve had difficulties, what couple has not? But you’ve changed, you’ve done things not just for yourself, but for others. I know everything that you’ve been through has caused you pain, but I can see it in your eyes, Rumple. You’re healing.”

Their foreheads touched again.

“I will never allow myself to fail you anymore, Belle. Everything that happened in the past, all my running away from the light, and running towards the darkness; it can’t – won’t happen anymore. And I have you and Gideon to thank for that. Whenever I am with you two, all my failures, all my weaknesses, they melt away. I’ve found a way to be a better person, and that’s to be a husband you can be proud of, Belle. And of course,” he added, as Gideon perked his head up from his mother’s shoulders, “to be an good father to you as well, Gideon.

“Now, my dearest. Let’s finish up our packing. Our new future starts in three days.”

#rumbelle showdown #rumbelle fic #rumbelle #round one entry #author: Purple Flourish #group D #rumbelle showdown 2019 #rumbelleshowdown

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dwightkschrute · 5 years

Photo

In 2014 and 2015 I did a my year in review kind of thing where I, of course, reviewed it and accompanied it with a picture from that month. I somehow forgot to post 2016 (until now) and forgot to do it at all for 2017 but unfortunately, I am back with a really disappointing year. I was debating not putting myself through the legit pain of “reviewing” this year but I think of how I love going through my 2009-2010 posts and seeing how much I’ve grown so this is for you, successful and cooler future me.

2016 and 2017 were amazing but 2018 was my most promising year. My boyfriend and I were going to move in, I was going to start my dream job; everything was perfect. It definitely started out as one of the best years of my life! Then exactly halfway through the year everything changed and I was left having to pick up the pieces and completely restart, making it one of the worst years of my life.

I started January in Mexico, which was the best, but my family and I got home early in the month. I had quit my job the month before so I dedicated the entirety of this month to job hunting. Our friend (my bf’s bff who became mine and my brother’s bff early on)’s dad got a boat so it was like we got a boat too because despite the cold, we lived on it. (My boyfriend couldn’t go on the trip with us, which he was super bummed about (and that we had to spend like 10 days apart which was killer then), so he was the one to pick us up at the airport and he greeted me with a bouquet of flowers. Out of the many gifts/gestures he gave me, that was one of my favorites.)

February I started my amazing new job so life was back to 40 hour work weeks and not having much time for much else. I was always attached to the hip to my bf so almost every day after work entailed going out with him or having dinner with my family or his. That was my month. My favorite part of every February is Valentine’s Day and this one was as amazing as the rest. I don’t even have enough space (of the allotted space I give myself for each entry at least!) to describe that day. (My bf at our Valentine’s Day dinner. We finished our long day at this restaurant (so, so cool, once popular with Old Hollywood stars) on Hollywood Blvd and it was dreamy and romantic and amazing.) Oh man, I don’t have a lot of interesting things to say about March. Oh, my parents got Influenza (A/B/idk tbh), so it was two weeks of my brother, bf, and I taking care of them. My dad has a serious chronic disease so it was especially dangerous for him so it was a stressful time. Once we weren’t in hazmat suits anymore (no but really, we were gloved and double masked around them and kept them quarantined), I’d be at work or with my bf. I also started to get close with a co-worker, who I quickly became close friends with! (My bf’s two huskies. I’ve just loved that picture since I took it! I’ve never been loved by a dog more than the one in the back of this pic. Not even by my own! He has a special place in my heart.)

April was barbecues at my house or my bf’s, trying every brewery and bar around, hikes, bike rides, beach visits, baseball games, boat rides, late night cooking and baking. It was lots and lots of love and happiness and I would give absolutely anything to go back to those days. (My brother and bf grilling on Easter. This was a familiar scene, I have so many pictures of this exact scenario, yet looking at it just now made me so emotional! Stop! They’re just grilling!) May was so exciting! Very first day I got a new car! I was so happy! It was long overdue because my finicky, expensive Volkswagen had to go and I’d fallen in love with the new Honda Civic (I’ll admit I have basic taste but I don’t care!) so I finally bit the bullet and did it. This month my bf and I, after a long time of “oh wouldn’t it be nice!”, bit the bullet as well and decided to finally get serious about finding a place together. So the apartment search started, but we soon realized our home, Orange County, was super expensive. My bf, in that “ha ha jk but I’m down if you are” way, suggested we pick up and move to Oregon and I immediately agreed. It just felt right and despite us being the most careful and non-spontaneous people ever, we decided to do it! So we began to research, look for apartments but most importantly, jobs. (My car the day I took it home!)

Uhhhhhh, well, June hurts to think about! We went to visit Portland, where we decided we’d want to live because that’s where the jobs were, on a quick trip since it was strictly “business.” Portland was everything I imagined and more. We loved it and I think we loved playing house in our airbnb more than anything about the city. Back in LAX we came to the easy conclusion that though we lived Portland, that’d require a lot and for our first time moving out we’d like to stay close to home and above anything else, we just wanted to live together as soon as possible. We immediately started to look for places in LA, we spent the month apartment hunting, and towards the end of it, decided on one we really liked, one he begged me to please say yes to so we can move in already. I was so, so, so happy this month but what made me happier was seeing my bf, I swear, even happier than me. I seriously felt unstoppable and was beyond excited for our future. (I had a lot of Portland pictures to choose from but my bf and I liked this one because it reminded us of Always Sunny for some reason.)

In July, everything changed. To start, I left my job. I thought, new chapter in my life, new job coming, I’ll live really far, I should leave now. So I did. My last day was an emotional day because I loved my job so much and every single person I worked with. That very same day, my bf and I broke up. For unrelated reasons to my last day, to our moving in, to our relationship, etc. We had an amazing, amazing relationship but he has a lot of demons and issues/insecurities he has to deal with and conquer, and though I was aware and was there for him and would continue to be by his side no matter what, he decided that this was a battle he had to handle by himself and I figure before he got into a more committed situation. It didn’t have to happen, though. I hadn’t talked about the specifics of the breakup on my blog so sorry for changing the mood of the post, but yeah, July happened and it felt like my world stopped. Really regret quitting my job now, huh? I was hit by two huge losses and changes right at the same time. (I took this on my friend’s boat 20 tequila shots in, drunk and sad as fuck. Not to get fake deep but how sad. Literally on a boat, beautiful sunset, would rather die.)

August was a blur and I’m still not convinced I didn’t just dream it. God, alright, here we go, the rest of the year is a mess so get ready. I fell into a deep depression fast. It also didn’t help that my dad had to start getting radiation/infusions for his illness shortly after the breakup. I couldn’t believe how much my life had changed. I started dating someone else and then I dated another guy shortly after. I wanted to replace and/or forget and I really thought that’d be the solution. I was miserable when I was with them. I took absolutely any opportunity to get really drunk or high, and the opportunity came often so I spent most of my days desperately trying to not feel anything. The only time I’d feel okay was when I was extremely high and I couldn’t even think. Since I had a lot of savings for my out of state move, I had a lot of money to blow, which I did. I realized I even liked the feeling of the temporary “high” of spending a lot and receiving the stuff. I’d hang out with any friend who offered (out of boredom? loneliness?) and even ended up on a mess of a Vegas trip. Worst month ever. Maybe. (Here’s a positive! I like that bathing suit and my tiddie looks so round!)

When September came I realized two months had passed and all I had done was be a huge depressed mess. I no joke forgot about work. I just straight up forgot. I started to look for a new job, which hurt me so bad because I had to face the fact that it wouldn’t be my Cool LA Dream Job anymore. I stopped dating. Most importantly, I completely stopped drinking and smoking because it’d almost always make me sadder but also it scared me that I had no self control nor did I care. I saw a whole lot of my close friends and they, along with my immediate family, kept me afloat this month because time felt like it was going so fast. I couldn’t believe that at a blink of an eye it was night again and then a new day. Time had no mercy for me, please let me hold on. (Me at a baseball game. Tbh I’m looking at this thinking, did this really happen?)

October started out nice because my best friend of years, who I unfortunately had a falling out with three years ago, reached out to me. I’ll always give her all of the credit for doing that. I can’t begin to explain what this meant to me. It was a nice, bright shine of light that managed to shine through the dark clouds. Having my best friend is exactly what I needed. I’m a big believer in the universe acting in mysterious ways and though I had grown disappointed in its little surprise for me lately, this was the kind I always appreciate. I spent a good part of that month with her, catching up and doing things just like we did back then. It was like nothing had changed. That’s all I remember about this month, and a super fun Halloween! That day was probably one of the best days in months. (My best friend Rylee and me the first time seeing each other in 3 years. We’ve had our blogs for 8-9 years so please follow her for quality content)

November was rough. I was frustrated because surely things should had been better by then. I was still feeling so low, I was going to job interviews to no avail, I “relapsed” and had a high/drunk off my ass on a boat messy moment.. To make matters worse, I accidentally drove up on a cement divider in a parking lot and my airbags deploy, which is so expensive to fix, so my car was out of commission for a month. Then I got so sick and I rarely ever get a small cold. I seriously felt like I was cursed, even the smallest thing felt like an insult towards me. The one good thing is that since July I had been forcing myself to go to the gym five times a week. My mom said exercising was the only thing that’d help her feel that sweet release of seretonin, endorphins, dopamine, and all that good stuff when she was depressed so, though I enjoyed going to the gym before, I did it just for that reason alone. It worked and as another result I got like pretty fucking fit. Revenge body, you’re one of the few good things in my life right now. (I literally had no idea what to choose so I said fine, here’s a pic of the scene of the crime. Whatever.)

In December I turned 26. Which I hate, naturally. I went to a million more job interviews. I’m seriously so embarrassed to admit that but whatever, it’s the truth. (I have a degree, experience, and an awesome cover letter..I’ll keep blaming the curse!) What kept me sane was that we had different family members visiting from the very beginning of the month. Playing with an energetic, adorable baby kept me distracted and happy. Having so much company around also distracted me (slightly, but it helped!) from the fact that the holidays and my birthday would be quite different now. I’m one of those annoying Christmas lovers, usually at least. This year everything just happened and I didn’t care. But I survived December! (I don’t care. This is the appropriate representation of 2018 and how I feel at the end of it.)

Jesus if you’ve read all of this.. I’m sorry you had to read about the mess of my year but really more like the mess that is ME. Yknow those like “people my age I went to HS with vs me” memes? I seriously went from being that bitch with a good paying job, brand new car, a serious, great relationship with a promising future together (Like. We would color coordinate outfits! LMAO. We would have dinners with both of our families together. We were obsessed with each other. You’d roll your eyes if you saw any of this. I can’t get over how perfect we were, it’s hilarious what happened to us.) and then at the blink of an eye I went to not having absolutely any of that, casually dating (something I’d NEVER done) anyone who resembled my ex and sadly and drunkenly puking off the side of a pier. Who is she? I don’t know, I got whiplash. (Queen of parentheses and side notes, I know. But another thing about me is... I’ve never been affected by people leaving my life. I’m used to it. I’ve never been anywhere as affected as I was when my ex and I broke up. This isn’t normal for me, my ENTJ/Capricorn ass doesn’t know what this feeling is.)

Please curse that has been put on me, release me. Whoever is attacking my voodoo doll, calm down! Please! I’ve gone through enough sadness and loss. If 2019 is even slightly as bad, I’m going to be like that pigeon I reblogged the other day that’s like “fuck this I’m just going to sit here.” I can’t even make a cute but corny, hopeful “hope 2019 is great!” comment. I’m literally begging you...pleading you... I don’t believe in karma but after all of this shit, I better have something much better in stock for me. “Good things are coming!” I fucking hope so. Like, I’ll be even more annoying right now and say that it’s not fair that I didn’t get to have the future I was about to have. I don’t care about any cliche you may have for me. One door closes, everything happens for a reason, God has a plan, etc. No. Why did all of this have to happen? What can be better than the future I was going to have? I felt so unlucky. It all feels like a nightmare and I’m just waiting to feel whole again. Oh shit I got really intense. I know I’ll get over it and life will be good again eventually but for now, I am still so mad. I would have never in a million years guessed this is how my 2018 would go.

So fine, I’ve accepted things now, so now I’m impatient and say please prove me wrong, 2019. I’m THREATENING you to be amazing!

#2018 #OMFG MESSSSS of a year..#and i acted so embarrassingly sigh but that was 2018

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cobaltscoutj-blog · 6 years

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An attempt to correct some.... misconceptions

In light of recent events, most notably, the Josh Burner vs Lily Orchard situation, people supporting either side have had their differing opinions. These range from claiming Lily is guilty of the crimes Josh has accused her of, therefore, she should be given a civil lawsuit, to Burner having no basis to sue. However, many have also demonstrated some misconception of the law. This is regarding American law, specifically, as nobody knows whether the supposed trial will happen in Canada or the US.

I’d like to start by saying I have no personal feelings or connections with Josh or Lily. I do enjoy content from both parties. Some have accused me of “white knighting” for Lily on a YouTube comment, but in reality, when I see a situation like this, I have to do my homework and make sure the facts aren’t twisted.

Regarding my thoughts about those two, Lily’s definitely an arrogant and pompous asshole, but she’s definitely not the spawn of Satan (She’s definitely not the worst person I’ve met, trust me), while Josh’s biggest mistake is his ineptitude in handling serious matters. Josh seems like a nice guy who’s dealing with certain problems in real life, but I’m not sure, I don’t know him personally. People have claimed Lily wrote a piece of child pornography, abused many people, or that she has “ulterior motives” for housing abuse victims in her server. That is a discussion for later, so this post addresses the allegations Josh has made on that Cease and Desist letter only. I’m not doing this cause I’m a “friend” of Lily or Josh, but if people are going to make claims, I’d like them to have the proper research and backing for it, rather than citing emotions, and believing any insult online is “slander.” It’s great to have an opinion on this matter, but it means more to have an informed opinion. I made sure to do my homework on the law, and conversed with a former Columbia University Law student regarding this topic.

Succinctly, Libel is written defamation of a private figure, while slander is oral defamation of a private figure. In order for statements to be defamatory, they need to be/demonstrate/result in:

1. Factually false statements.

2. Reckless disregard of the truth.

3. Provable damages to the figure. (Mainly, financially)

Josh will inevitably have a difficult time proving harassment or defamation to himself, because he is a public figure. Since Josh is a prominent member of the Brony analysis and YouTube community, he is a public figure on the internet. He regularly posts reviews, skits, commentaries, etc. All of this inherently subjects him, or anyone who uploads similar types of content to criticism (as long as it’s legal). By putting himself out there on YouTube, he has made himself a public figure within that sphere.

Break it down! http://gph.is/Z0CcZN

“Twisting words, and speaking lies about my conversations with Patchwork Heart”

I am not sure what to say for this one, since the call failed to record properly and there is no audio coming from Josh’s end. This one is honestly up in the air. Since the evidence of the call has been damaged, it’s really difficult to prove whether or not Lily has lied or twisted words about it. We can only go on the “he said, she said” basis, which the court will not accept.

“Deliberately and maliciously placing calls reasonably expected to be private in a public sphere for the intent of defamation.”

Both Burner’s and Orchard’s territories (Texas, United States and Nova Scotia, Canada, respectively) have the “one party consent law.” This basically means that people can record their own conversations with other party, since the recorder is taking part of the conversation him/her/self. Either one recording the call is fair game. I’m not sure why Josh included “deliberately.” However, malice is almost irrelevant to Lily’s action of uploading the conversation. Malice regards libel or slander, while the uploaded conversation was just.... a discussion about what to do with Brony DnD. The video just had the conversation as it happened, and nothing that would damage Josh's reputation. If Josh was worried about defamation from the video, that would imply he did or said something he's not proud of that he doesn't want the audience to know, but a lot of what he said is just up to interpretation. Her uploading the video was meant for the audience to listen to what actually happened, and then letting them decide what to think of it (Whether or not Josh is a “pedo enabler” or a “liar.” But this isn’t the main topic). Defamation applies to recklessly false statements, but portraying the situation as it happened (uploading the actual conversation) is the complete opposite of defamation.

“Using your fanbase and friends to send repeated and unrelenting harassment and false-flag my videos or videos I worked in, especially the Brony D&D videos as shown below.”

Harassment is really difficult to prove for a public figure like Josh. I agree, it’s really scummy of Lily to send her fans and friends on a dislike spree of the Brony DND videos. However, since Josh is a public figure, visible to anyone who types in youtube.com, this one is really difficult to prove as harassment. Plus, he can shut off the ratings bar if the dislikes bother him a lot. Regarding the false-flag problem, it shouldn’t be an issue if the flagging has failed. The decision to remove a flagged video is ultimately made by YouTube, and not the people who flag it. Since the false-flagging has failed, I doubt that the court will tackle this. The false flagging was just petty on the fans’ part.

Josh is trying to prove harassment, but on YouTube, he is subject to any opinion made based on the facts. Anyone can disagree on opinions. It’s also fair game to make an interpretation about someone based on his actions. Although people may disagree, it’s still legal, as long as it’s not blatantly false.

Moving on.

“Repeating and relentless use of ad-hominem attacks against me in public settings.”

Ad hominem is a logical fallacy where one’s argument is loaded with personal insults. Josh also linked the reader to a post where Lily compares Josh to Captain America, when he mentions “Hail Hydra.”

As offensive as it may be, it’s not violating any rules and to suggest a comparison to a comic book character being a felony is ridiculous. I doubt this will go through.

“Stealing my ideas simply to spite me.”

While I do agree copying ideas proves someone is unoriginal, Josh and Lily didn’t copy each ideas word for word. The original creator (Jello Apocalypse) of the “Review in 10 words or less” concept made his regarding Disney movies. The two did copy the concept, but since they added their own wrinkles to it (Making it MLP-based), none of them can be guilty of plagiarism. While it is very petty and childish of her to one-up Josh, it’s still legal. Wanting to one-up someone on the internet is the equivalent of wanting more “Gold stars” than others as an elementary school student. I don’t think there are any laws saying “you aren’t allowed to one-up another person, since it’s out of spite.” I doubt this part goes through.

Now let’s go to where Josh claims Lily has made defamatory statements.

“I bullied Patchwork Heart into relenting about Brony D&D.”

As mentioned somewhere above, this call lacked anything coming from Josh’s end, so this claim is honestly up for grabs. Lily made this claim based upon what Patchwork Heart themselves said on a tumblr post (I can’t find it). Since the call regarding their conversation failed to record properly, Lily’s in reasonable territory to claim Josh did so, since there is nothing to prove that Josh DIDN’T bully Patch (I’m not saying he did. It would just be difficult to prove either side). All Lily could work with was Patch’s tumblr post, since they were the only ones with Josh in that call. Lily formed an opinion based on the limited knowledge she had to work with. Since it’s impossible to prove whether Josh did bully Patch or not, I don’t think this will hold up in court. The only way Lily could be guilty of defamation would be if the call between Josh and Patch was somehow corrected to play Josh’s audio, but there is no record of anything Josh may have said to Patch.

“I said ‘wildly racist’ things when you were working for me.”

Whether Josh had said these racist things, nobody except for Lily and Josh themselves know. This sounds like a personal problem they had with each other that could be corrected if they decided to compromise and discuss this. Unfortunately both are more concerned about a power struggle more than anything, making this an unrealistic solution. I’m not sure what to say about this. Moving on.

“I am a fake Marine.”

Lily had never actually claimed that. In her “Guard Break” video, here is what she said regarding Josh’s status as a Marine.

“Mr. Burner wasn’t actually in the military. He was in the Marine Corps’ band, the ceremonial ‘I’m helping’ of most military branches. And to presume some kind of genuine authority out of that is to claim that the children who participate in the royal Navy Seal Cadets have any genuine military experience.”

What Lily did in this statement was make a somewhat arguable opinion regarding a fact. The fact of the matter is that Josh was in the Marine Corps’ band. Lily’s opinion is that since playing in the band and actual combat are completely different, he shouldn’t try to act as if he has “military authority.” While this is offensive to many people (I can’t blame anyone for thinking that), it’s on legal territory since she isn’t calling Josh a fake marine. She acknowledges Josh was in the Marine’s band, and uses an (pretty bad, but still legal) analogy to describe what she thinks of it. Saying someone is a fake marine is different from what Lily said. Her claim is equivalent to saying Josh is a sorry excuse of a marine. Offensive? Yes. Illegal? No.

“I am a fake Christian.”

To be honest, as a Catholic, I and many others have no idea what Christianity is about. It’s generally common knowledge that Josh is a Christian and takes pride in that. It’s also known that he has conservative beliefs. What Lily essentially did was call him a hypocrite, since both have principles that inherently conflict. Others may disagree about Josh being a hypocrite. Calling someone a hypocrite for their beliefs is definitely offensive, but doing so is merely an opinion made based on the facts. I doubt attorneys will handle this aspect of the lawsuit, should it happen.

All of these claims made on Josh’s C&D Letter won’t realistically pass through the court or lawyers. Lily’s statements about Josh amount to opinions formed based on actions or facts about Josh. Josh, being a public figure like Lily or many other YouTubers, isn’t legally protected from such actions. Trying to file a harassment lawsuit as a public figure is extremely difficult to get through, since lawyers won’t take a case that’s as gray as this one. Furthermore, Josh’s subscriber and patron count have increased and will continue to do so. It’ll be difficult to prove damages if both increase, since they inevitably make more money for him. If the sub count or patron count had dropped, then he can realistically prove damages, but since the opposite happened, it’s almost impossible. Calling someone an enabler and a pedophile are different since pedophilia is clear cut, while enabling someone can be interpreted as such through many different actions, making it unclear.

HOWEVER

This does not mean I condone Lily’s actions. Nevertheless, she is not legally obligated to stop being an asshole to people. Just as she has her rights to criticize and insult others, she’s also fair game to receiving it as well. Nothing is stopping anyone from criticizing her or vice versa, JUST AS LONG as it isn’t blatantly false. If it’s an opinion formed based on the facts, it’s fair game. Still, there is one action mentioned on the C&D that puts her into dangerous territory...

“Threatening physical harm / to kill me / saying I should die.”

Her claiming she will put a gun to Josh’s head puts her on thin ice legally. Of course, she can possibly defend herself, saying it was a hyperbole. However, she really does need to back off the violent remarks. This is really the only claim I can find on the letter that a lawyer would actually consider. Anything regarding harm or death puts the person on a fine line between claiming it was a hyperbole and actually making realistic threats.

OVERALL

While I don’t justify any of Lily’s actions, Josh’s biggest mistake seems to be his lack of experience and ineptitude in handling these kinds of situations. A lot of what Lily did is morally wrong, but the law won’t stop her from doing so. Some of the claims are difficult to prove for either side, since the conversation failed to include everything mentioned. I don’t want this to appear as if I’m “white-knighting” Lily Orchard while “trying to find Josh guilty.” Neither side is entirely correct or wrong about it. Here is a suggestion I’d like to make. You both almost had the chance to end this within 10-30 minutes on a Discord conversation. You both almost had the chance to stop all the dislike sprees and drama. But you both valued the power struggle more than actually solving the problem. Lily’s suggestion of Josh pushing for the delisting of the Brony DND videos (while making them viewable by link) in exchange for her removing 4 videos that talk about Josh, honestly seems reasonable. Both sides get what they want. Both sides can walk away from each other. Both sides don’t have to talk to each other or think about each other. Her last email that resorted to calling Josh a child was unnecessary, but throughout the email exchange, I thought she was being somewhat... civilized. Josh didn’t have to act defensive and him focusing on the call being “on his terms” may have prolonged this whole debacle. I can’t blame him for thinking that way. Lily has been unforgiving to Josh, and he doesn’t want to appear to be a pushover. However, there are some times, when you need to swallow your pride and be willing to compromise. Lily didn’t need to write that final email insulting Josh, and Josh didn’t need to disregard the deal over a power struggle. It could’ve all just ended. Of course, Lily could have some “ulterior motives” behind discussing this with Josh, but for the sake of everything, take everything at face value and try to fix this together. If one of you goes back on your word, the (theoretical) conversation would be uploaded to hold either party accountable.

-J (Sorry for the long post, but it was necessary. Kudos for reading.)

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chininja · 6 years

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never felt so in love before

A/N: I actually dreamed about writing a Jaime/Sansa fic for two nights, it’s ridiculous. lol. But I had to go look through a writing prompt on tumblr (”You can be honest without being rude.”) to get this one out. So even though it’s not the fic from my dreams, here it is. :))

And you can read it on AO3 too.

Sansa was adamant that he keep his eyes closed.

He blinks a few times to get his eyes adjusted to the room’s lights. She turns expectantly at him then, waiting for his reaction. Jaime, for all his ability to twist words and use them, was unable to reign in his response.

“It’s like my very own millennial sanctuary, except I’m not in my twenties anymore and,” his green eyes wide. “Are those succulents?!”

A pause, then –

“You can be honest without being rude, you know.”

Sansa says it with such a distinct pout in her voice that Jaime couldn’t help but kiss her on the neck, both to apologize and to hide his smile. “I’m sorry, babe. I didn’t mean that.” The smile, he could hide. The amusement in his voice was a little difficult to conceal.

There was an unused room in Jaime’s house that Sansa thought would be perfect as a home office for him and declared that she would decorate it. As a gift.

He didn’t really need one, he wasn’t like his workaholic father after all. But he indulged his girlfriend in this much as he did with anything else concerning her. The room’s not bad, it’s just not his style. By that he meant there was one too many inspirational quotes on unrelated backgrounds that he really doesn’t need nor care for. It definitely wasn’t what he expected, but it’s made him smile anyway.

Much like his first impression of Sansa.

The Lannisters represented a chef turned business mogul who was being sued for copyright infringement by one of his previous sous chefs for stealing her recipes. And who should represent that plaintiff but Sansa Stark. She maximized on her youth and beauty and used them to her advantage. Jaime nearly lost that case because he underestimated her and mistook her silence for vapidity. He was annoyed and impressed at the same time, but that taught him to pay attention to her more carefully.

In the end, both parties settled on an agreement they were both satisfied with, and Jaime left with Sansa’s number and a date two nights after.

That was ten months ago.

They’ve received some looks of course. Jaime is fifteen years Sansa’s senior and a named partner in one of the biggest firms in the city. And as much as they’d like to be closer together, they decided that it would be wiser if their work lives and work environments remained separate. It goes without saying that they can’t be opposing counsels on the same cases together.

Jaime leads her to the couch she placed next to his bookshelf so that they could both sit down and “really take the room in”. He hums in contentment when Sansa reflexively settles against his arm, feet tucked beneath her. Go figure, the girl who basically grew up in a tundra, has cold toes.

He gets a whiff of the floral shampoo she loves so much when he bends to kiss the top of her head. “I don’t hate it, really.” He tries to appease her. When she snorts out a response, Jaime knows he didn’t fool her. “Yeah, but you’re not exactly happy about it either.” She mumbles to his sweater before resting her forehead on his shoulder.

Jaime looks at her tenderly, because she can be tough as nails in court. But when it’s just around her friends, family, and him, she’s still just a twenty-nine year old girl. He knocks his knuckles lightly on her head to get her to look at him. She’s still pouting but her blue eyes are so bright, Jaime nearly loses his train of thought. He couldn’t help but pinch her nose when he saw her lips twitch though. “Brat.” He breathes out. She chuckles at him then, having been caught in her game. “But seriously, babe. I just wanted to do something nice for you after helping Bran out.”

Sansa gathers her hair out of the way before wrapping her arms around Jaime’s middle. Bran got into an accident with a drunk driver. The Starks didn’t care to sue for the money, they just wanted the person who paralyzed their son and brother from the waist down to be dealt justly, according to his offense. Her family wanted, expected, her to take care of it – and she wanted to. By gods how desperately Sansa wanted to bring her brother’s accoster to justice.

But even though Sansa was an outstanding litigator, she felt she was too emotional to handle the case, and begged Jaime to take. Her family was hesitant at first, her stoic being the most vocal about it. They didn’t really know him that well, despite the nine and a half months of dating; despite meeting them formally some three months prior. In the end, Ned Stark relented and gave his daughter’s much older boyfriend a chance to prove himself. And naturally, with a lawyer of Jaime’s calibre at the lead, the defendant really didn’t stand a chance.

He runs his fingers through the hair she meticulously brushes every night, tucking a few stray strands behind her ear. “You know it was my pleasure.”

And this is why Sansa loves him. Because yes, he is one of the most obnoxious people she has ever met, and he can look as though he has nary a care in the world besides winning cases and winning big. But for the people he cares about, for her? Jaime will talk circles around a mountain and convince it that moving to another plane will be in its best interest, if it meant his loved ones could have an unobstructed view of the sea.

She kisses him soundly, because she can. Because she wants to. Because she will always be grateful to whichever gods that orchestrated their story together. Sansa thought she was done with romance, and men with deceitfully kind faces. But while Jaime Lannister was stupidly, annoyingly, handsome, Sansa has seen his depth and loved him even more.

How different her life would have been had she not met this man.

How completely dull his life would have been had he not met her in court.

The hand that was in her hair cups her jaw, tilting her head just so to deepen the kiss further. When Sansa moves away slightly to talk, Jaime’s eyebrows furrows, and his eyes still closed. She kisses it away before she responds to his earlier statement.

“I know, and that’s why I love you.”

It’s not the first time she says it, but it warms him all the same that a woman like Sansa Stark more than reciprocates how he feels.

“I love you too.” He says, his lips pressed to her forehead. Jaime imagines that the smile that graces her face as he shows his affections for her is one of contentment before is replaced by a mischievous smirk. His hands instinctively move to her hips when she straddles him, and the groan that leaves his mouth is entirely involuntary when she gives a suggestive roll of her hips. He sees her grin widen, and before he can get any words out, she presses herself against him. The sound that is let out as they kiss is a mix of her alto and his baritone.

He groans in appreciation when he slips his tongue in her mouth and she sucks on it just the way that he likes, the way that he taught her, before slipping her own tongue in his. Sansa can feel him straining against his slacks, and she gyrates her hips just to aggravate him further. When she feels his hands tightening grip on her thighs, she moves her mouth to kiss at his jaw until she reaches his ear. She gives his earlobe a lick, blowing on it lightly, delighting in his shiver.

“Well since this room wasn’t all that appreciated,” a light nip on his ear has him bucking up at her. “How about I show you how much I really appreciated your help?” A lick behind his ear. “Upstairs” she punctuates with a hard suck on his lobe.

Sansa releases a surprised but delighted laugh when Jaime slaps her on the ass before standing up, her legs wrapping around his waist in an instant.

“You really should have led with that, darling.”

And oh how appreciated Jaime truly felt that night.

#my writing #jaime x sansa #jaime lannister #sansa stark #saucy sansa #enamored jaime #got #asoiafrarepairs

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meiizumi · 5 years

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Castle of Shikigami: An informal rant nobody asked for about my most obscure obsession to date

STOP i spent like 2 days writing this post and im only posting it on tumblr because it’s the one website i’m a member of that can hold the most text. i wanted to infodump somewhere...... read this to learn something i guess (´･ω･`)

Bad voice acting is the Peak of comedy to me, and while I was looking for something to laugh at one day, I found this game called Castle Shikigami 2 for the PS2. The US version of the game's dialogue is rife with machine translated text that makes no sense, and awkward voice acting to boot. They even have voice actors saying the wrong lines, voice actors speaking implied commands, and a few voice lines are left in Japanese. Apparently, Roger Craig Smith (Sonic the Hedgehog's current voice actor) was in this game but I don't think he's even credited?! I think I know which character he voiced but I’m not exactly sure.

The history behind this game’s localization is REALLY weird. Castle of Shikigami/Shikigami no Shiro was originally an arcade bullet hell shoot em up game. The series was created by Alfa System and it was one of Alfa System’s main IPs. There are three main shmup installments and a text adventure game for the PS2, Nanayozuki Gensoukyoku. Nanayozuki was practically fanservice for whatever number of CoS fans there were back then. Each main game in the series was originally an arcade cabinet, but they were all ported to PC and home consoles. In CoS 2′s case, it came out on the PS2, Gamecube, and Dreamcast, but only the PS2 version got localized. The western publisher, XS Games specializes in publishing quality budget titles such as “Bass Pro Shops: The Strike” for the Wii. I theorize they didn’t care too much about the actual content of CoS 2 and were more focused on selling a game quickly for a low price, so they just machine translated it and adjusted a few things. If you’re wondering if Castle of Shikigami 1 was also translated this badly, the answer is No. XS Games instead removed all the dialogue from the western release of CoS 1, and released it with the title “Mobile Light Force 2″.

“Wait, what do you mean ‘Mobile Light Force TWO’ if Castle of Shikigami 1 is the first game in the series?” If you want to know what Mobile Light Force 1 was, it’s GUNBIRD; another shmup game, but by a completely different developer than Castle of Shikigami. I don’t know why they did that. What really kills me though is that both MLF 1 and 2 use the same boxart, which is COMPLETELY unrelated to the actual contents of either game. AFJQHJFOKLJFDS look at this

There’s more hilarity behind Mobile Light Force that isn’t hard to find so you can search that up if you’re interested. But thankfully, Castle of Shikigami 3's Wii edition got more of a proper localization by Aksys Games.

Now I would bluntly say something like “stan castle of shikigami” but:

1. This series’ lore is insanely convoluted. It’s an essential part of this expansive fictional universe referred to as “Mumei Sekaikan” (I don’t know what this translates to in English) where there’s like, 7 different parallel worlds. There’s more obscure ass games and manga that are tied to this universe, and I think there’s even a tabletop RPG made based off it. Have you heard of “Gunparade March”? Most likely you haven’t; it’s an obscure video game made by Alfa System that also got adapted into an anime, and I feel it can be described as Mechas x Persona. One of the characters in CoS 2 is just one of the GPM characters going undercover to find her senpai who traveled to the CoS world. Or something like that. The 7-world universe isn’t explicitly talked about in the game but they make so many references to it without defining anything that it’s like you Must know about it. There is NO documentation in English about the Mumei Sekaikan I could find on the internet, although there is a wiki in Japanese where I got a ton of knowledge from (GOOGLE TRANSLATE IS MY TRUSTED FRIEND) I feel like I might be THE person in the United States who has the most knowledge on the Mumei Sekaikan, and I could go on another tangent talking about what I know so far (and who this one specific dude Shibamura Yuuri is) but I won’t.

2. The writing isn’t excellent and can be pretty Unwoke ™; the first game came out in 2001 and the third game came out in 2005 if that gives you a sense on what era these writers were in. As far as the games dialogue goes, the characters appear kind of flat. CoS 1 and 2 Kotaro (i refuse to use the official “Kohtaro”) is stupid and driven by JUSTICE to a point where it’s annoying. I can’t tell if Hyuga is trying to be a Ladies Man in CoS 2 and 3. Kim, a religious tae kwon do instructor, spends CoS 2 thinking about how he should atone for his sins, then he turns himself into jail at the end. Sayo’s backstory is that she was a shrine maiden raised as a “human weapon” to have no emotions and her only goal in life was to kill god and then die, something like that. However, after CoS 1, she gets a crush on Kotaro because he actually treats her like a human and Of course that’s what you’d expect from the main teen girl and boy in the series. In CoS 3, Sayo's character is mostly played out to be a major tsundere for Kotaro even though surprisingly HIS character in this game changed a ton compared to 1 and 2 (he had to kill an illusion of his older brother, who he learned actually died earlier, and now he has to kill an illusion of his childhood sweetheart... damb that shit sucks :/). He’s still stupid though

There’s a gag in CoS 2 that I can’t clearly remember where it’s like, Niigi makes Sayo and Fumiko, who are both romantically interested in Kotaro, think that he’s only into little girls? Meanwhile, Fumiko’s magic goes wrong and her appearance turns to that of a child though in response she’s like “hee hee maybe Kotaro will like this”. basically more On-Brand early 2000′s anime unwokeness than average. Speaking of Fumiko, she’s a 400+ year old militaristic witch who constantly teases Kotaro (who’s like 16 or 17) and she wants to marry him for his magical potential since he’s like one of the candidates for becoming God??? From the official CoS 3 character descriptions, “Her hobby is to steal the men from other women. Her second hobby is trampling upon people.” She canonically stole her stepmother’s husband from her stepmother (the 3rd boss of CoS 3). I don’t get how that shit would have worked

3. The game itself is HARD af but to be fair I’m a scrub gamer. I can’t get past stage 3 on easy difficulty without continuing. Yes i bought CoS 1 on Steam, Yes it has a port on steam i feel like i should have mentioned this earlier

4. Besides CoS 1 having a port on Steam, CoS 2 and 3 might be hard to obtain legally. The poorly translated CoS 2 was apparently super cheap back then, but since it’s an old game, its value might’ve increased. When I tried looking up prices for English CoS 3, all the listings were like at least $40 and being broke I wouldn’t want to spend more than $29 for a Wii game in 2019... honestly I just emulated CoS 2. shout out to PCSX2

Last month I was desperate, bored enough, and deep enough in the Shikigami rabbit hole that I tried to find the manga based off of it online. The CoS manga only tells the events of the first two games so I still don’t really get anything about CoS 3, like who Mihee, Batu, and Emilio are supposed to be. However, the plot events also differ. For example, Roger Sasuke exists as a character in CoS 3 but in the manga he literally Dies. There’s 11 total volumes of this; 3 volumes dedicated to CoS 1 and the latter 8 (the “Twisted Castle arc”) dedicated to CoS 2. Only the very first 3 chapters were scanlated to English all the way in 2011. Fortunately, I did find the entire manga uploaded though............... in CHINESE. So you know what I did? I “read” the entire thing using my phone’s Google Translate OCR app to take pictures of each page and comprehend the translations. Of course I still don’t understand CRAP because of the Mumei Sekaikan jargon + machine translation but I understood enough to get emotionally attached to some of the characters. I wish I hadn’t. At least through the manga I learned that the characters DO have some depth and pre-established relationships. For instance, the reason why Roger Sasuke became a ninja is because when he first landed in Japan as a kid, he was getting bullied or something and he didn’t know Japanese then Kotaro saw this and told the bullies to stop. Then after Roy /sorry i mean Roger learned that he was set to home-stay with the Kugas in the first place, he decided to dedicate his life to Japan in order to protect Kotaro back. I think. DO U SEE HOW ABSURD THIS SHIT IS Anyway Nanayozuki takes place between the second and third games and sets things up for CoS 3. There’s a full playthrough of it uploaded to YouTube and I think it contains a lot of juicy lore, but it’s just too much to go over with Shitty Google Translate OCR. There’s also Shikigami no Shiro novels which apparently contain the most backstory, but I have a 0% chance of finding these online for free. Not to mention that these would ALSO be too much effort to Google Translate.

in conclusion: You don’t HAVE to play Castle of Shikigami. Like, I’m not gonna recommend it for the content, but if you love shmups and are looking for a shmup game you haven’t heard of then I will recommend it for the gameplay (old touhou mutuals assemble theres a POWER-UP-BY-GRAZE MECHANIC). I’ve counted like 4 total fans outside of Japan that like this series for the story, and I don’t think that number is going to increase because I doubt CoS 2 will ever get retranslated and ported. I just want you to know that this series exists and that there’s a ton of wacky shit behind it besides the bad Castle Shikigami 2 dub. also if someone knows enough japanese or chinese and has an INKLING of interest in this series umm talk to me and help me decipher stuff

I‘m kinda sad that the series is pretty much Dead though. This is the most recent piece of official Castle of Shikigami art I could find, and this was for the 2018 New Year. The next most recent piece of official CoS art I found was also drawn by the character designer Sonoda Miku all the way in January 2008, commemorating the end of the CoS manga serialization. Alfa System released a spiritual sequel to Castle of Shikigami on the Japanese Switch eShop called Sisters Royale, with character designs I think are still by Sonoda. By “spiritual sequel” I mean that it has some of the EXACT same shot types as CoS and the same mechanic where grazing bullets increases your power and score. This is the closest we’ll get to a Shikigami no Shiro 4. I wonder what the business decision behind that game was but it actually looks like fun and I want to play it so OK Go off i guess

#bees are good #castle of shikigami #shikigami no shiro #video games #i feel: DISEASED

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