luckycrownprincess

[princesssarisa]

I once reblogged a post about Disney's Beauty and the Beast where the OP wrote that in a sequel, they'd like to see Prince Adam still struggling to control his temper at times. I think I agree: anger issues don't easily go away. But there's something else I'd like to see in a sequel even more:

I want Prince Adam to make peace with the Beast.

I also want him to know that Belle has made peace with the Beast.

I want Adam to accept the fact that he was once spoiled, selfish, and unkind, and not to excuse it in the least, but to understand that he was made that way by his royal upbringing, not born that way. I want him to see that he can choose to behave differently in the present without hating his past self.

I want him to accept his temper – to realize that just as long as he doesn't act on it in harmful ways, it's okay to feel overwhelming anger when he's attacked or threatened. I want him to know that despite the importance of controlling it, his anger doesn't make him a bad or unlovable person, and that it can be used for good too. Namely to fiercely protect the people he cares about, as when he fought off the wolves to save Belle.

I also want him to accept the fact that he lost interest in dignity and gave in to his feral, "beastly" instincts: wearing tattered clothes, eating like a messy animal, ripping and smashing everything in the West Wing in his rages, etc. I don't want him to remember it as a character flaw, but to know that it was partly the fault of the spell warping his mind and partly out of sheer despair.

I want him to remember that he was never all bad. Even at his most beastly, he was moved by Belle’s request to take her father’s place as his prisoner, which made him agree to the exchange even before he realized that she might break the spell. Then when he saw her crying, he felt compassion and remorse, and he gave her a comfortable room and free rein of the castle. While his ferocious rage when he caught her in the West Wing was inexcusable (his anger itself was justified, but not his reaction that made her afraid for her life), he was instantly racked with remorse, and when he realized she had run into the forest and was being threatened by wolves, he risked his life to save her, which inspired her to give him a second chance.

Then, after he comes to these conclusions, I want him to be assured that Belle has done the same. I want him to know that Belle truly loves him, not just a role he learned to play to please her.

There's a comment somewhere or other on TV Tropes (I think on the Fridge Brilliance page), which says that the Beast "had to learn to hate himself" to become a better person. That breaks my heart. I don't want him to go through life hating himself and pretending to be someone else, or, if he does, for it to be portrayed as a good thing. That's no way to live.

I've been thinking of more recent Disney/Pixar movies like Turning Red and Inside Out 2, which promote accepting the messy sides of yourself (without using that acceptance as an excuse to behave badly, though) and loving every part of yourself. Beauty and the Beast obviously isn't about that mindset, but arguably just the opposite – some of the creative team have said that the Beast's character arc is about the universal process of learning to control our "animal" instincts and become civilized human beings. But are these movies’ different messages mutually exclusive? I'd like to think the Beast/Prince Adam can choose to be a civilized human being, yet fully accept the "animal" part of himself too.

I know that part of the problem is that I see parallels between the Beast and a neurodivergent person. Lack of social skills, physical messiness, struggle to connect emotionally with others, overpowering anger under stress that he struggles to regulate, etc. I see my own AuDHD qualities in him – maybe I'm projecting them too much onto him – and I feel as if part of his character arc is about learning to "mask." I know this wasn't the creative team's intention, but it feels that way. I don't want Adam to spend his entirely life masking and hating what's under the mask, or to think Belle loves only the mask and not his true self.

Let him make peace with the Beast.

[tornrose24]

Had a crazy moment of Fridge Brilliance regarding The Ghost and Molly McGee when I was working on my fan fic.

It's established that posessing someone while they still have their soul inside their body equals limited control over their bodies. And in 'The Greatest Concert Ever,' Scratch proved to be a HORRIBLE driver while possessing the driver of the Atomic Pink Tour bus (and would have realistically killed most of the things he ran over). Yet in 'Lock, Stock, and Peril' he managed Larry's motorized bike just fine while possessing Larry, even though driving a bike should be just as dangerous as a bus. So... what was the difference?

Then I realized–Molly was Scratch's passenger on that bike ride. The people inside the bus MIGHT have been just ok if the bus crashed, but Molly would not have been as lucky if the bike crashed, and not even a helmet would have helped her out.

Scratch probably had to put in a lot of effort in maintaining control over the body he was possessing while Molly was riding with him. One wrong move and Molly could have been injured or worse.

[random-thought-depository]

Brett Devereaux made an observation about Dune that I really like: that Paul Atreides and Feyd Rautha Harkonnen were probably raised with very similar values.

This isn't exactly a ship in the usual fandom sense of the word, but I think it'd be interesting to see this explored in an AU fanfic where Paul and Feyd Rautha somehow team up at the end of Dune.

I think what'd work really well for this is a scenario where Feyd Rautha somehow gets control over House Harkonnen and swears loyalty/vassalage to Paul, adding effective control over House Harkonnen to Paul's portfolio at the end of Dune.

I think that'd have really crunchy social and emotional dynamics that'd fit really well with the theme here. Paul has spent years hating the Harkonnens and seeking revenge on them for the death of his father and a lot of the surviving remnant of Paul's own house have pretty similar feelings, and now here's Feyd Rautha saying to Paul "The armies of my house await your orders, my lord," and Feyd and his Harkonnen buddies are now hanging out at Paul's court and hobnobbing with Paul and the rest of his court. If Gurney Halleck and Duncan Idaho are alive in this scenario I bet they'd hate this and there'd be some pretty tense moments when they have to collaborate with their Harkonnen opposite numbers.

Atreides and Harkonnen generals collaborating to plan the Jihad with kinda shitlib vs. MAGA chud vibe tension where the Atreides have thinking of themselves as the side of good as an important part of their self-image while the Harkonnens tend to be more casually bloodthirsty and sadistic but this is arguably more a difference in aesthetics than anything substantive, when crunch time comes they can put these cultural differences aside and collaborate surprisingly easily on shared goals because they're actually fundamentally similar people with fundamentally similar worldviews and values, molded by fundamentally similar institutions.

Feyd Rautha becoming one of Paul's closest subordinates and kind of his friend in a weird way cause they're actually fundamentally similar people and useful to each other.

I think Feyd is supposed to still be pretty young at the end of Dune, so this might work better if Paul is a bit less lucky in his campaign against the Harkonnens, delaying the events of the end of Dune by a few years but ultimately not preventing them, or something like that, IDK.

I think if I were writing this the closest I'd take this to shipping in the common fandom sense is Paul and Feyd end up kind of in a wife-loaning polycule with Irulan, though one that's asexual on Paul's side. Basically at some point Irulan and Paul have a conversation that's basically a more refined version of this:

IRULAN: "Hey, I'm tired of living a life of involuntary celibacy cause you need a political marriage to me but won't have sex with me because of your issues. Can you just wife-loan me to one of your right-hand men if you're gonna be so complicated?"

PAUL: "Fine, sure. The usual rules will apply: keep it on the down-low and don't get pregnant."

IRULAN: "Fine."

PAUL: "Did you have any candidates in mind? If not, might I suggest Utrecht or Hakim?"

IRULAN: "I AM NOT SLEEPING WITH AN UNBATHED DESERT BARBARIAN! ... Feyd is kind of hot, I guess... I'll take him!"

PAUL: "That arrangement would be perfectly acceptable to me. Pending Feyd's agreement, we have a deal. I'll discuss this matter with him tonight, after I've discussed with him the deposition of his house troops in the conquest expedition I'll be launching against the Megara worlds. I think he'll agree."

IRULAN: "Great!"

I have had one or two or three little ideas for a Dune fanfic but have never figured out what the plot would be. I suppose now if I ever actually write a Dune fanfic, it'll probably be about this premise.

I guess in a way it might be fridge brilliance that this didn't happen in the actual books, cause this is a lot like the relationship between Leto II and Farad'n at the end of Children of Dune and Farad'n reads to me as a mirror to Paul in the same way Feyd is, and the arc of the Dune novels up to God-Emperor of Dune is Leto II could do what Paul couldn't bring himself to do, so Leto II being able to co-opt Farad'n while Paul couldn't co-opt Feyd would fit with that.

[clochanam]

MOM. ( pt. 1 )

listen she adopted many children, and of course if u write one of those children then pls tell me when or if they ever call aisling "mom", but i'm a gobshite who gave this woman too many children to adopt, so i'm splitting it up into smaller parts! this is the first of several drabbles detailing when aisling's adopted kids (found on @bailesona) first called her "mom" or a variation of that! these are both from the first two kids she ever adopted, victor and eli.

i. VICTOR

it took victor a full two years to figure out how to say it. not that it took aisling that length of time to earn the privilege; honestly, the first week had secured her role comfortably for him. but the fear of rejection was what stopped him. every time she praised his botanical brilliance, or put one of his essays up on the fridge, or scooped the messy pulp from the inside of tomatoes for his sandwiches, he found the title balanced on the tip of her tongue. he frequently got as far as the first letter, then backed out before he could invite the risk of a decline to his door.

but when he finally took the leap, it was a thing that might've gone ignored by others that prompted him to say it. eli was sick. like, the worst flu ever known, multiplied by fifty. a fever had him by the sweaty scalp for almost a full 24 hours, and no amount of cold cloths would bring it down. aisling had spent every second of it by his side, using a detachable showerhead to cool him down, quickly spooning broths and electrolyte drinks into him when he was able to sit straight for a few seconds, drenching towels and sending stanley to the freezer for ice until they ran out. victor didn't want to leave, and aisling didn't expect him to. instead, she asked him to help in other ways. researching herbs to reduce nausea and fevers, brewing tea, playing his favorite music. by the time the fever finally broke, eli was wiped out on a bare mattress, windows wide open, aisling cradling him and humming the bloody wii music under her breath as he slept soundly against her side. victor watched from the doorway, holding a fresh cold cloth, and the word slipped out unbeckoned. " it's alright, mum. i'll look after him for a bit. "

she'd looked up, humming quietened for a second as her throat tightened, stunned and touched surprise breaking the exhausted daze that had fallen over her. the title was the greatest gift she could ever dream of. never mind that she still felt undeserving. that she always would feel that way. victor had called her mum, and try as she might to pretend she hadn't heard it, to spare the teen the embarrassment of an emotional moment, she found herself pressing a light kiss to eli's head, then, once she was at the door, she reached up and drew victor in for a fond, affectionate hug that made him feel like a little kid again, in the best, most protected sort of way. " i'll be back in ten, pet, okay? just need to do a few bits in the kitchen. "

top of the list: bawl like a baby over that one little, massive syllable.

ii. ELI

his elder brother took two years to say it. eli took five months, six days.

one early december morning, new york received a mighty blizzard that wiped out the electricity for the entire city. manhattan had no lights, no heating, not a damn thing. the lucky few had fireplaces, gas heaters, but most relied on electricity. and with the blizzard barely begun, it would be at least three days before the roads would be cleared enough to restore power. they managed the first day looking like woollen starfish. victor managed to fashion a fire in the diner using a steel bin and a bunch of scraps. but then the vents got clogged with snow, and the smoke stung their eyes, and they had to return to shivering in a huddle.

day two arrived. aisling had been able to use an old stove top to heat some water to warm their hands, and some tea and soup to warm their insides, but the batteries were drained in an hour, and she had to place her mattress up against the kitchen window to keep out the cold. eli spent an additional hour wearing out the idea that had bounced in his head since the previous night. but victor's chattering teeth, and aisling's shuttering eyes, pushed him to do the unheard of: offer an untested suggestion. " what ab-bout th' solar pa-panels? "

fifteen minutes later, they'd herded up to the rooftop door, frost on the doorknob. the howling winds and sub-zero temperature meant their words were limited. but the plan was simple. a length of washing line was tied around her waist. eli was going to watch the readings. victor was going to hoist her back in. aisling was going to pour concentrating cosmic energy into the ice-crusted solar panels. easy-peasy. right? right. like he said, he hadn't tested the theory fully. but aisling was already outside, engulfed by snow within seconds. victor released a long, low, shaking groan, and eli sank against the door, torn between a rare prayer and the unwavering faith that aisling would somehow see the panels through the flurry.

one. two. five. ten. thirty. they reached sixty seconds, and eli felt the panic rising, far colder than any blizzard they could endure. victor was struggling to unlock the door, just to let the line draw back in. and while neither of them had the capacity to speak, brothers have a way of knowing. like sharing the perfect prank, the best sandwich, the most fantastic video game battle. except... concluding that your guardian just got lost on a rooftop in blizzard-blitzed manhattan is less harmonious. tears fought to escape his eyes, but his body seemed committed to evading the extra effort. aisling was gone. they had a whole day and three quarters 'til rescue arrived. best to spare the tears. and yet... still, a tear slipped free, and he saw it gleam in the sunlight as it fell to the--

sunlight.

suddenly, the meter shot up. the window melted a coat of ice, and they saw her, hands bare and red with the exposure, pure energy pouring from her palms into the radiant surface of the panel. lights flickered into life in the hallway, and relief, vibrant and elated, flooded his veins as giddy laughter filled the room, and he stumbled to the door, waving excitedly until she turned to look at her boys. " MOM! MOM, IT'S WORKING! WE DID IT! WE GODDAMN DID IT-- "

and even though the power of the sun poured from her hands, he swears to this day, her face outshone the whole sky as soon as she heard him say that title.

[igotlostinthesewers]

Some Type of Drug

Chapter Three: You came? You called.

Pairing: Leonardo x Reader

Reader Type: Gender Neutral

Song: In my time of dying- Led Zepplin

Warnings: Fighting. Blood. Cursing.

An: I hope this is good lol. Let me know what yall think!

Word Count: 3273

"I'm not to far gone to be healed, am I? I'm not too gone am I?"

-Alice Notley, from In The Pines: Poems; "In The Pines,"

You see him more often than you thought you would after that day. Catching glimpses of Leonardo on building tops. Curling around corners and blending into the shadows. Always watching over you when he was given a chance. Ever since that night Foot soldiers were far more frequently spotted and he wanted to ensure it was not because of you.

Leonardo always gives you a head up when he follows you. Something as simple as a pitched whistle. That weird grumble not growl he'd make sometimes. But always he would watch over you as you made your walk back home. Making the nightime routine a part of his patrol. And ever since that night you made sure to carry both mace and a taser. 

After work Leonardo makes time to talk to you.  Sometimes he would in the morning. Slink in before the morning sun has truly risen. But it was easier at night. Far less of a chance of him being spotted.

The two of you weren't quite friends yet. Both your hearts to calloused, to walled, to really allow you to open up. But the kinship the two of you held was greater than just acquaintances.  You allowed the guy to raid your fridge when you were not there for goodness sakes. 

Leonardo left you little things to find when you would come home. Sometimes it was change to pay for what he took. Other times it was small charms he thought you might like. Once it was a plate of cookies from his brother Mikey.

He had yet to let you meet his family in the month the two of you had gotten to know each other. You were certain that the reason why he stuck around for so long was to keep an eye on you. To both ensure his secret, and his family, were safe. But also to keep the Foot from finding you.

That changed with the last gift though. Some shift in the air when you came back home to see a goldstone bracelet sitting on your kitchen counter. It was all sparkling and blue when you had picked it up. It was then you realized just how observant he really was. 

You had made nothing more than an off hand mention about how your last one broke. The small beads never to be found again when they slide under the oven. You had told Leo about it when you were making dinner. Filling in the silence of your apartment. 

It had been such an insignificant thing to you.

But he had remembered. And it left you wondering just what you  were to each other.

Leonardo learned about your home town as you grew more comfortable with his presence. Telling him about your family, your childhood friend. You told him of your long trip here. How you drove because you were scared to ride in a plane. And you told him how lucas had been your only support. The only one who had encouraged you to go. And how he was the only one who would still talk to you.

What you did not tell him was about the heartbreak. The screaming and yelling. The begging. The very things that left you so guarded.

In the same way Leo told you about his family. The shenanigans that Mikey would pull. His ever loving heart. Donatello's bad late night habits but also of his brilliance. Sometimes he would complain about Raphael's bullheadedness but in the very same breath praise his bravery. His heart.

He spoke of his father. His sensei. His teacher in most things. But he spoke little else of Splinter. And you did not push the subject.

In a way you began to think you became a place he did not have before. A place to be. To vent. A place to lay down his worries without having a person with prior knowledge to judge him. You were a place to listen as he was for you.

.

.

"You would not believe the audacity this guy had!" Were the first words out of your mouth. Leonardo had barely pulled himself from your window when you spoke.

"Long day?" He asked. He bent to give Zeki a soft pet on his grey head before turning back to you.

"Blue, You don't even know the half of it." You have him a look while shedding your jacket. Tossing the rain soaked thing into a basket near you door.

"You want to tell me so I know all of it?" He laughed out.

"Abso-fuckin-lutley" Off came your shoes. Briefly you stepped into your room to change.

When you stepped back out Leo was sitting on one of your stools. Smelling at one of your perfume oils that you left there this morning. That particular one seemed to be a favorite of his and you've contemplated buying one for him.

Do. Do mutated turtles wear perfume? Cologne?

"So, you know Karens right?" Leo looked up. Capping the little vial.

"Those are the ones who are entitled. Right? The me-me?" Clearly one of his brothers needed to brush him up on his memes. Leo pulled at your small sketchnook. Looking over small doodles that you had made that mornings.

"Meme's. But ya. I don't know what the male version of that is." You began taking your rings off at the counter. "Probably Kevin."

You reacount just how much of the jerk the guy had been as you made dinner. Seasoning steaks and peeling potatoes.

"I tried so many god damned times to make his coffee right. It was either to hot or two cold or not enough nutmeg. By the time I was ready to call it quits and kick the guy out, Miss. Helen came up. She grabbed the coffee I had just made and tossed it in the mans face before telling him to get out in such away it would make Lucifer himself blush." Leo laughed as you tossed your hands up in the air.

"This Miss. Helen sounds like quite the woman." Standing Leo went to your cabinets. Pulling out cups and plates to place on the counter as you finished up cooking.

You were quick to plate the food. Rare steaks, garlicy and buttery mashed potatoes, and green beans with bacon. You were filling up your cups when you caught Leo's eye. He was watching you intently. He did that a lot. Observing the little things you to. Catching small quirks you didn't know you had. But this time. It felt different. A little more intimate.

"What?" You ask. Wiping away at you cheek incase you had gotten something on it. 

Leo pulls in a breath of air. As if he just now realized that he indeed needed to breathe."Nothing I." He pauses. Swallows. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Eat." You motined to his plate. "Did Michelangelo ever get that move down?" At this leo's eyes softened. Pride at his younger brother pulling him upwards.

.

.

Dishes were done together. You washing and Leo drying. Something about it was so. Domestic. It was comforting at times. You having missed this since. Well since your family fell apart. But at times it left your mind to wander. At what kind of friendship you and Leo had.  

When you insisted on doing it yourself, to stubborn to let others help. Leo had somehow fangled his way into at least drying. Everything in him just as stubborn to not let you do all the work yourself.

Leo was drying the last dish when his phone chimed. You watched as the large terrapin wove around you. His arm brushing against yours in the small space as he flicked he screen on.

"Sorry. I have to go." You could feel the small fall in your heart when he said this. You were always a little sad to see him go. Leo filled up an empty space you weren't aware you had until he was gone. It often left you scrambling to fill that space when he left. 

"It's alright Leo. Really." You bump his bicep with the back of your hand. "Family is important. I get it." Leonardo only nodded. Pocketing his phone.  

As normal Leo turned to leave. Pulling back the curtains to reveal a cloudless, star filled sky. Not as normal. Leo paused in the open window. Jaw clenching and unclenching  as he thought.

"You good Leo?" A bit of concern at his current behavior. He said nothing. Sliding back in to your home and grabbing the pen and paper off your coffee table.

"Can you meet me hear at this place and time?" He handed you the paper. His words were curled and flowy. Almost pretty in a way.

"Ya. Ya I can." You recognized the place. Just outside a pizza diner you liked to go to. A sly smile spread on your face as you looked back up at him. "You askin' me out on a date Boy Blue?" You laughed when he made a choking sound.

"I. No." He held his hands up. "Not that I wouldn't like to. I mean." He popped his knuckles and cleared his throat. "I want you to meet my family. It's safest to bring you there from that place." Those blue eyes finally landed back on you. Studied you for even the smallest of reaction. And you smiled. Warmth filled you.

"Ya. I'd like that." You spoke it to the ground. Then him. At that Leo smiled. 

"I'll see you later then." He told you. Waving before he slinked out the window, up the fire escape, and into the night filled city.

.

 Leo's heart was pounding. His normally steady hands shaking. Who knew that such a simple question  would have him so nervous. Well he knew why deep down. He was afraid to show you the one thing he truly cared about. It had taken him a week  just to ask. He brothers, and even Splinter at one point, asking when they were going to meet you.

Honestly he was a little excited to tell the others that you would be coming over soon.

.

He could hear his brothers before he saw them. There was Mikey's music. Something frying in a pan. Don was rattling something off about the latest planetary discovery and he could hear the soft. Plink Pling. Of Raph's knitting needles.

Mikey must have spotted him coming up the stairs into the kitchen space because he heard. "Bro! You're back! Finally." Leo was quick to catch a can of grape soda thrown at him.

"Took ya long enough fearless." Raph hardly spares him a glance. "Ya forget about movie night?" Leo took a seat across from him. Leaning back into his chair he popped the tab on his soda.

"No. Just got caught up is all." Raph's hands stilled and his brothers hazel eyes all but bored into him. His scarred lips pulled into a smirk. Then he scoff. Letting the dark blue knit fall to the table.

"You've gotta mile wide grin Leo." With the words out Mikey and Don stopped in what they were doing. Pausing to watch their two eldest brothers. "Spill."

Leo nodded his head. Looked to the table and if he could, smiled even brighter. "They're coming over." Their cheering was loud enough for Splinter to come out of his room and rising up the stairs to see what had his sons so excited.

"Finally! God you wouldn't shut up about them." Raph had thrown his head back. Leo furrowed his brow.

"I don't talk about them that much." Leo muttered. Looking to Splinter as if his father would agree.

"Every third sentence you speak is about them." Donnie spoke up. Leo through him a look. Then sighed when Splinter chuckled. 

With his gaze now fixed on the ceiling Leo asked. "What movie are we watching tonight." He was wanting to change the subject. Really. He didn't talk about them that much. Did he?

"The Hobbit." And when Leo looked at Raph he added. "It's Donnies turn to pick." He shrugged then began to help set up the living room for the movie.

.

Popcorn flew over his head. "Donnie If I have ta tell ya to keep your feet on your side one more time!" The ending credits of Desolation of Smaug rolled across the screen.

"One more time what Raph?" Donnies foot darts out to hit Raphs thigh for what seemed like the hundredth time.

"Oh that's it!" And just like that. Leo lost his popcorn.

"Knock it off you two." Leo rose. Standing up to break up his brothers roughhousing when he felt, and heard, his phone ring. When he pulled out your name and number was on the screen. He was quick to answer.

"Leonardo?" Your voice was quiet. 

"Y/n? Are you ok?" From the corner of his eye he could see Raph slap a hand over Mikey's mouth. His other arm headlocking Donnie.

"Fuck." Your breath shook. "Leo? Shit. They're here. They've." His blood ran cold when he heard your scream. Then glass shattering.

You must of dropped the phone. He could hear it thud against the floor. Your voice fainter now as you yelled.

"Fucking let me go!" The buzzing sound of a taser then. "You sick bitch!" Then nothing as the phone cut off.

"Everything ok Leo?" Donnie asked. Pulling his head out from Raph's arm.

"Ya bro. Everything good? You've gone all. Serious face on us." Mikey finally pulled the hand away.

"They're in trouble."

.

You didn't know when they came in. How they broke in. When Leo left the apartment had been to quiet. So you put on your playlist and letting it go on shuffle as you swepts the living room. You had done little else  but clean. Humming along to Led Zeppelin as you did so.

Your first clue had been Zeki and his bell. The small jingle barely audible over your music. The second had been your own instincts. Some animal part of your brain not yet gone picking up what you could not see.

Until the light in your window shifted.

Your heart rate picked  up. Your hair at the nape of your neck stood on end. Every part of your body ran cold.

If you had not moved. Oh god if you had not moved. The smallest shift of your bare feet against the cold wooden floor. The drop of your shoulder

You felt it. Feather light touch against your cheek. The quick hum of broken air.

Then your flower vase shattered. Glass glistening in the dim light of your home.

There was pain. Bright white pain when your knees hit the floor. You were quick to turn. Get up.

You went left at their right.

There was nothing but you, them, and the voice of Robert  Plant.

"Meet me, Jesus, meet me"

You were quick. Heavy hitting. Grabbing. Pulling. Breaking anything your could grab.

Glass shattered. At some point you had the wooded leg of your coffee table in hand.

Two. There was two of them. 

You tasted blood. Smelled it. Minging with vanilla and dragons blood.

"Oh saint peter at the gates of heaven won't you let me in?

 I never did no harm,

I never did no wrong."

The glass of their goggles broke when you brought down the wooden leg. Their scream was loud. Piercing.

Silenced with the next hit.

Your body was both fired and calm. Cool water swam in your thoughts. Always focused. Always steady. One wrong move. Oh one wrong move.

"And I see them in the streets

 And I see them in the field

 And I hear them at my feet 

 And I know it's got to be real."

The last one didn't get the chance to fully fight.

Blind rage. A hot, deafening desire. Ran through your body. Controlled you. They got you good. Seeing stars. Hearing bells.

They to though. Grew cold.

.

Your phone was next to your overturned couch. Thankfully unbroken as you flicked the lock screen open.

Contacts.

Scrolled down.

:Blue Raspberry:

Hit dial.

You could hear talking. Laughing. "Leonardo?" It was hard to speak. Voice quiet.

"Y/n? Are you ok?" Nothing but genuine concern. And oh you wanted nothing more than his help in this moment.

"Fuck." Your voice shook. Hearing rather that seeing the breaking of your windows. "Leo? Shit. They're here." And God your knees wanted to give out. "They're here. They've." And you screamed. Fear took you. Blinded you.

No longer were you in control.

One from the window. Another at your door.

The one at the door grabbed you. 

"Fucking let me go!" Shrill. High. There. Your taser. "You sick bitch!" 

"Im gon' to make it my dying 

dying 

dying"

.

.

It felt like a moment and they were there. The window he's crawled in and out of at least a hundred times by now was shattered.

They could all hear your desperate breathing. Smell the fear rolling off of you.

And music. Music was playing.

Raph had been the first to step in. Sais in hand as he crossed the threshold of the window.

Then resounding hit that rattled Raph's teeth.

"Fukin' Shit!" Raph.

The music called out. "Sweet little baby I don't know where you've been."

Your broken sob is what had him moving. All but throwing himself through that window.

Your home was a mess. The smell of blood, death, and fear a pungent mixture in the air.

"Oh God." Donatello. Leonardo had to agree. In the middle of it all stood you. Bloodied, bruised, clothes torn. Blood spilling thickly from your nose. Your open mouth. Your right eye was puffy. Swollen to the point of almost closing.

There was a pan in your hand. Your gripped it so tightly he could almost hear your fingers creak in protest. That must have been the thing you had hit Raph with.

"Leo?" The pan fell from your hand. Landed near your bare feet. "Leo?" He was quick to move. Catching you by the shoulders before your knees could hit the floor.

"I've got you. I've got you. You'll be ok." You gaze was distant. Your grip close to painfull on his forearms.

"They. My home." Donatello was slow to approach you. "Those bastards broke into my home." You voice was venomous. Lips bared over bloodied teeth. "Tried to hurt me. Tried to." Then the reality of it all hit you. "I. Oh God." A broken breath in.

"It was either you or them. Be glad it was them." Your head snapped to Raph. A whimper. Then sharply turned to Donatello when his hand rested on your shoulder.

You couldn't hear him. Could only watch as his lips moved. You were shaking. Cold but not. Breathing. Were you breathing?

"They're in shock." Donnies fingers rested at your clammy cheek. "Leo we need to get them to a hospital." Donatello could see a number of injuries. Smell a weird mixture of rain and blood on them.

"We can't do that. How would they explain any of this." Leonardo gathered you in his arms. "We take them to the lair. You can help them." Donatello looked around your home. To the people lying on your floors. 

Foot Soldiers.

"The Foot would just come for them there." Leonardo finished.

"Zeki. Where's Zeki?" You slurred out. Pushing against Leo's chest to go find him.

"Whose Zeki?" Raph asked. Kicking a rag dolled Foot off a broken table with a low whistle. His chin and cheek were dark.

"Their cat. Zeki's probably-" Leo was cut off when Mikey came out of your room. Cat in hand. The poor thing was terrified. Yowling. Meowing. Calling out for you.

"Whose this?" Leo shifted his grip on you. Offered a comforting pet to the cat.

"Zeki. He's their pet." The cat settled a bit at seeing a familiar face. "Y/n should have a carrier around here. Find it then bring Zeki back to the Lair."

.

You stirred in his arms when cook air brushed against your battered body. Your eyes fall on the bottom of a green chin. This close you could catch the faintest hint of sandalwood and leather. "Leo?" Then blue. You were swimming in blue.

[sothetherogue]

Have you ever noticed any Fridge Brilliance in DEH? I ask because TV Tropes has only three entries for it, one of which was the subject of a Kahrant.

I think one super minor one I had is when Evan says he is "Sending pictures of the most amazing trees" and how it all seems super positive because he loves nature - And looking back on the play and how he hurt himself "Amazing" might have had a totally different meaning in his mind.

I checked out the page and the part on Larry and the Baseball glove is blowing my mind. It isn't my fave song but it is an important one - And I feel like I just got another later added to it.

LOVE the rant tho. Lol Some people have like....Weird takes with good interpretations.

[shadowspellchecker]

Fridge brilliance about Thor:

Every other character who wouldn't be able to speak English due to lack of exposure (Shiki, looking at you, and Sassapis) seems to speak perfect, modern English. It's almost like they have translator microbes. But the English-speaking characters get accents equating to their periods and locations of origin, which means mutual intelligibility might be a factor.

Then for Thor and Bjorn, and their flashbacks.

Why?

Why are they missed?

Why?

At first it made no sense until I looked at the relationship between English and Old Norse. English isn't a descendant of Old Norse, but rather a branch called Anglo-Frisian. But there are a good number of cognates and loanwords from Old Norse into English, and, as this tree depicts, they are both Germanic languages. The linguistic similarities might be enough that whatever spiritual power enables translation doesn't apply to Vikings speaking to English-speakers. But it is also possible that Thor had learned to speak Old English or old Frisian to some extent in life, as they were spoken in his period. However...

About 85% of Old English words aren't in use according to wiki.

Old English was a synthetic language, with declensions and the like, while Middle English going forward was analytic like modern English, so fundamental semantic and grammatical nuances would have been lost between OE speakers and those of later forms of English.

And then the phonetic changes. They were a mess!!!

But basic vocabulary was in many cases retained and might be recognized. Perhaps even reconstructed and built on from exposure. And the Great Vowel Shift wasn't even over when New York was re-settled by Dutch and English settlers (no particular order or priority there). The fewer the phonetic changes, the easier recognizing roots would have been.

The accents are a nightmare, verbal conjugation and more than basic declension thrown out the window, but... land ship. Land sċip.

Enough similarity that the translator microbes might miss Norse speakers with a limited knowledge of the ancestor of the current local language.

[thedreamerjim]

new story

I apologize for my inactivity. I have a new story that I wrote in school for my class project, but I can't think of a title for it right now. So, I'll just post it here without any title.

Here it goes...

Jack was an inspector who took the job of his sick friend, who had asked him if he could investigate a house in a remote area in Alaska, known as Lindland Woods. After five hours of driving, Jack arrived at the location where he was supposed to investigate for his partner. As he approached the house, he felt uneasy. The desolate, eerily silent house loomed before him. It was damp, painted in a decaying shade of yellow, with red brick tiles cracked, ready to fall if an earthquake struck. There stood a remarkably intact stone chimney, and nearby lay abandoned clothing next to a nearly empty bucket. As Jack stepped out of his car, an eerie sensation washed over him, as if he were being watched by someone or something. A pungent smell of mold and an indescribable stench hung in the air.

As he neared the house's door, he caught a glimpse of something moving from a window. Fear surged through him, but he knew he had a job to do. Summoning his courage, Jack opened the creaking door. Inside, the putrid odor intensified, akin to rotting food. Jack thought, 'It smells like death in this house.' Gathering himself, he proceeded further. The interior revealed walls covered in mold, and the creaking floorboards seemed ready to give way at any moment. Paint peeled and crumbled from the walls. The worst was yet to come - the kitchen. It was a nightmarish scene, consumed by mold, with dark voids in the walls. The source of the stench emanated from the fridge, forcing Jack to leave the room to avoid vomiting. As he departed the kitchen, he couldn't help but think, "This house needs to be demolished; the kitchen is a living hell."

Jack then ventured into the bedroom, hoping to find something of interest. Instead, he encountered an empty room covered in graffiti. The floorboards groaned ominously beneath his every step, making him fear they might give way beneath him.

Eventually, he stumbled upon the basement. The steep, narrow stairs leading down filled him with trepidation. The basement was shrouded in darkness, prompting Jack to rely on a powerful 300-lumen flashlight. Yet, even its brilliance provided limited visibility within the oppressive darkness. As Jack aimlessly explored, searching for anything of note, he tripped over a broken table fragment. As he struggled to rise, he felt something touch him, but it swiftly retreated into the shadows. Jack had never been so terrified. Once on his feet, he raced up the stairs, ascending from the basement's abyss. The transition from the dim basement to the blinding light of the surface was like stepping into the sun itself.

Upon exiting the basement, Jack sensed something trailing him, and he dashed to the door, locking it behind him. As he did, he saw the figure. It defied human form, bearing an otherworldly, emaciated appearance, towering with a grotesque smile etched upon its face. Rather than attacking, it merely stared, its eyes like dark voids. Jack trembled at the sight, momentarily frozen in fear before regaining his composure. He slowly backed away and sealed the door. Jack sprinted to his car and sped away, the last image of the house being the figure's eerie farewell from the window. Following that harrowing day, Jack quit his job and relocated to another country. There, he became a police officer and sought therapy to erase the haunting memories of his previous occupation. ----Xamichi

[dadjokestop]

When it comes to humor, Black culture has always been at the forefront, from legendary comedians to viral social media posts. If you're here looking for funny Black people jokes, you're in for a treat! Now, just to clarify—these jokes are all about celebrating the wit, humor, and brilliance in Black culture, not poking fun in a negative way. So sit back, relax, and get ready to laugh with us! A Reminder: Laughter is Universal Before we jump into the jokes, it's important to remember that humor is something that unites us all. In Black culture, laughter has often been a source of healing, resilience, and joy, passed down through generations. So let’s laugh with, not at! Why Do We All Love Funny Black People Jokes? Because they hit differently. They’re smart, witty, and often speak to shared experiences that resonate across the board. And honestly, who can deliver a punchline like a seasoned Black auntie at a family reunion? Exactly. Joke 1: What Happens When a Black Mom Calls Your Full Name? You immediately get a Ph.D. in obedience. There’s something about hearing your full government name that makes you rethink all of your life choices. Joke 2: How Long Does It Take a Black Family to Say Goodbye at a Cookout? Three hours minimum. First, there's the standing up part. Then the lingering. Then the "oh wait, one more thing." By the time you leave, you’ve eaten again. Joke 3: Why Do Black People Always Keep Their Thermostat at 68 Degrees? Because energy bills hit harder than a lecture from your grandma. Ain’t nobody trying to pay extra for heat! "Wear a sweater," they said. Joke 4: Why Don’t Black People Play Hockey? Because we already ice skate every winter trying to avoid the landlord. Rent is due, and we’re just out here gliding past the notices. Joke 5: What Do Black People Call "Taking a Nap"? Just “resting their eyes.” And you better not make a sound while they’re doing it! Joke 6: How Do You Know a Black Auntie Made the Potato Salad? Because it’s sprinkled with love, soul, and a WHOLE lotta paprika. Nobody knows what it does, but it feels necessary. Joke 7: What’s a Black Dad’s Favorite Line? “You got McDonald’s money?” You better not ask for anything when the fridge is full of leftovers. Joke 8: Why Do Black People Take Church So Seriously? Because the pastor might preach, but the real gospel comes from the choir! Those harmonies will make you catch the Holy Ghost before the sermon even starts. Joke 9: How Do Black Moms Always Know What You’re Doing? Because they’ve got eyes in the back of their heads... and your aunties are snitches. One phone call and the entire family knows your business. Joke 10: Why Do Black People Never Let Go of Their Old School Jams? Because Luther Vandross and Anita Baker raised us. Those tunes got us through heartbreaks, Saturday cleaning, and Sunday soul food dinners. Joke 11: What’s the Secret Ingredient in Every Black Family Recipe? “Don’t worry about it, just eat!” You’ll never know, and you better not ask! Joke 12: How Do You Know It’s About to Rain? Black people can smell it. "Smells like rain," they say, as they predict the weather better than the meteorologist. Joke 13: Why Do Black People Wear Bonnets to Bed? Because hair care is a sacred ritual, and we don’t mess around with our edges. No bonnet, no peace. Joke 14: Why Do Black Moms Always Have That One Wooden Spoon? It’s multi-purpose. Cooking, discipline, you name it. If you see her reach for it, you already know it’s over. Joke 15: How Do You Know You’re at a Black BBQ? When the line dance kicks off. It doesn’t matter if it’s the “Electric Slide” or “Cupid Shuffle,” everyone’s on the floor. Joke 16: Why Do Black People Always Have Plastic On Their Furniture? Because we protect our stuff like we protect our kids. That couch will outlive you, your kids, and maybe even your grandkids.

Joke 17: What’s the Fastest Way to Start a Family Argument? Ask who makes the best mac and cheese. You might lose some friends and family over that debate. Joke 18: Why Do Black Grandmas Have So Many Spices? Because bland food is a sin. If it’s not seasoned, is it even food? Joke 19: Why Do Black Families Always Have Big Sunday Dinners? Because food is how we show love. And there’s always enough for an extra plate or two. Just ask, “You want something to eat?” Joke 20: Why Do Black People Always Arrive Fashionably Late? Because being on time is optional, but looking good is mandatory. We don’t rush greatness! Joke 21: What’s a Black Auntie’s Favorite Saying? “Stay outta grown folks’ business.” And you better do exactly that unless you want to catch a side-eye from across the room. Joke 22: Why Do Black People Watch Scary Movies Like It’s a Comedy? Because we already know who’s going to get caught first. You hear that noise in the basement? Nope, not today! Joke 23: What’s a Black Kid’s Superpower? Dodging the belt when momma reaches for it. Reflexes on point, because you never know when you’ll need to duck. Joke 24: Why Do Black People Clap Their Hands When They Talk? For emphasis, baby! It just makes the point hit harder. You know they mean business when the hands start clapping. Joke 25: Why Do Black People Always Greet Each Other Like Long Lost Cousins? Because every Black person you meet is family until proven otherwise. We’ve got cousins all over, real or imagined. Joke 26: What’s the Official Black People Time Zone? “CP Time.” That’s “Colored People Time,” and it means we’re showing up whenever we feel like it. Joke 27: How Do You Know You’re About to Hear Some Wisdom? When a Black elder starts with, “Back in my day...” You better listen up, ‘cause you’re about to learn something. Joke 28: Why Do Black Moms Always Have Vaseline in Their Purse? Because dry skin doesn’t stand a chance. A little dab and you’re shining for the rest of the day. Joke 29: What’s a Black Person’s Favorite Excuse for Being Late? “I was just around the corner.” Spoiler: They’re still 15 minutes away. Joke 30: How Do You Know a Black Dad Loves You? When he shows up to your event with a folding chair and a thermos. That’s Black dad language for “I got you.” Conclusion: Funny Black People Jokes Bring Us Together There you have it—30 of the best funny Black people jokes to brighten your day. Whether it’s the timeless wit of a Black auntie or the classic humor of a Black dad, these jokes remind us how humor is deeply woven into the fabric of Black culture. It’s more than just a laugh; it’s a shared experience, a way to bond, and sometimes even a survival tool. So the next time you need a laugh, remember these funny Black people jokes—they never disappoint!

[xtruss]

The True History of Einstein's Role in Developing The Atomic Bomb

The Legendary Physicist Urged the U.S. to Build the Devastating Weapon During World War II—and Was Haunted by the Consequences. “I Did Not See Any Other Way Out.”

— By Erin Blakemore | February 21, 2024

A Mushroom Cloud Towers Over Nagasaki After the Detonation of an Atomic Bomb in 1945. Albert Einstein struggled with his role in the creation of the bomb and the devastation wrought by the U.S. bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki during World War II. Photograph By U.S Army Air Force Via Library of Congress

Albert Einstein is perhaps most famous for introducing the world to the equation E=mc2. In essence, he discovered that energy and mass are interchangeable, setting the stage for nuclear power—and atomic weapons.

His part in the drama of nuclear war may have ended there if not for a simple refrigerator.

In the 1920s, while living in Berlin, the physicist collaborated with Hungarian graduate assistant Leo Szilárd to develop and patent an energy-efficient fridge. While their design never went to market, the duo’s work ultimately embroiled Einstein—an avowed pacifist—in the race to create an atomic bomb during World War II.

Einstein would go on to argue vehemently to ban nuclear weapons worldwide in his later life, as he struggled with the deadly consequences of his scientific creation.

“His brilliance was also his downfall,” says National Geographic Explorer Ari Beser. “The revolution that came with the splitting of the atom requires a moral one as well.”

Einstein's Letter To Roosevelt

From the President’s Secretary’s Files. Einstein Letter. In the summer of 1939, a group of physicists, including several who hadfled Hitler’s Germany, met to discuss their fears of Germany developing a uranium-based weapon. It was decided that the best course of action was to immediately inform President Roosevelt of their concerns. Because Albert Einstein had a previous personal relationship with the Roosevelts and was internationally well-known for his expertise, a letter informing the President about the dangers of a nuclear chain reaction bomb was drafted for Einstein’s signature. This August 2, 1939 letter was personally delivered to the President on October 11, 1939 (the outbreak of the war intervened) by Alexander Sachs, a longtime economic adviser to FDR. After learning the letter’s contents, President Roosevelt told his military adviser General Edwin M. Watson, “This requires action.” The action FDR required would evolve into the Manhattan Project.

Even after Szilárd and Einstein ended their partnership over appliances, the two scientists stayed in touch.

In 1933, the same year Adolf Hitler became chancellor of Germany, Szilárd discovered the nuclear chain reaction—the process that unleashes the energy locked in atoms to create enormous explosions. And by 1939, he had became convinced that German scientists might be using current scientific developments to develop an atomic weapon.

So he approached his one-time colleague—then the world’s most famous scientist—and asked him to warn U.S. President Franklin Delano Roosevelt.

Szilárd visited Einstein in New York with two fellow refugees, Hungarian physicists Edward Teller and Eugene Wigner. When they told him about the possibility of a nuclear chain reaction, Einstein was shocked at the danger posed by his 1905 special theory of relativity.

“He certainly was not thinking about this theory as a weapon,” says Cynthia Kelly, president of the Atomic Heritage Foundation, a nonprofit organization she founded to preserve and interpret the Manhattan Project and its broader legacy. But “he quickly got the concept.”

Together with the other scientists, Einstein drafted a letter to Roosevelt that warned of what might happen if Nazi scientists beat the United States to an atom bomb.

“It appears almost certain that [a nuclear chain reaction] could be achieved in the immediate future,” he wrote, sounding the alarm on “extremely powerful bombs of a new type,” and advising that Roosevelt fund an initiative to research atomic energy.

Roosevelt took the warning seriously. On October 21, 1939, two months after receiving the letter and just days after Germany’s invasion of Poland, the Roosevelt-appointed Advisory Committee on Uranium met for the first time. It was the forerunner of the Manhattan Project, the top-secret government project that eventually invented a working atom bomb.

A Troubled Legacy

The committee was only given $6,000 in funding, so Einstein continued writing to the president, assisted by Szilárd, who wrote large portions of the letters. One letter even warned that Szilárd would publish key nuclear findings in a scientific journal if the initiative was not better funded.

In this way, Einstein helped spark the Manhattan Project, says Kelley, but “his actual involvement was very marginal.” The FBI file on the outspoken scientist—who openly criticized racism, capitalism, and war—would eventually grow to over 1,800 pages.

“In view of his radical background,” the FBI wrote, “this office would not recommend the employment of Dr. Einstein on matters of a secret nature.” In the end, Einstein never received security clearance to work on the Manhattan Project.

Still, his name is forever connected to the weapon born of his greatest discovery. He was devastated by news of the Hiroshima bombing—and humiliated by a TIME cover from 1946 that showed him in front of a mushroom cloud emblazoned with his famous equation.

Though Einstein worked to warn the world about the perils of nuclear proliferation for the rest of his life, he struggled to make sense of his responsibility.

“He is the father” of the atom bomb, says Beser, who is the grandson of the only U.S. serviceman aboard both planes that carried the atomic bombs to Japan.

Beser uses his storytelling to illustrate the aftermath of nuclear weapons. For instance, he visited Auschwitz with a survivor from Nagasaki, who was astonished at the connections between the bomb, which killed or wounded hundreds of thousands of civilians, and one of history’s other horrors—the Holocaust.

“I was well aware of the dreadful danger for all mankind, if these experiments would succeed,” Einstein wrote of the bomb’s development in a Japanese magazine in 1952. “I did not see any other way out.”

For Beser, Einstein’s dilemma illustrates the contradictions of the human condition: “The splitting of the atom changed everything, except the way we think,” he laments.

[4allrecipes]

Delightful Summer Pinch Of Yum Peach Cobbler

Imagine this: succulent, juicy peaches, teetering on the brink of pure indulgence, baked into a luscious base that's the perfect blend of sweetness and jammy goodness. Crowned with a topping that's a cross between cookie dough and a flaky biscuit, kissed by the subtle crunch of coarse sugar. Ladies and gentlemen, meet peach cobbler – the embodiment of summer in a single bite.

Let's delve into the delightful details:

Picture this scenario: luscious, juicy peaches nestled in a velvety, jam-like bed. Above them, a delicate yet satisfying layer that marries the essence of cookie dough with the charm of a rustic biscuit. And the finishing touch? A sprinkle of coarse sugar that sparkles under the oven's gentle broil. Yes, you've entered the realm of peach cobbler.

Now, here's the kicker – this isn't your average complex dessert. No, sir. It's LAZY in all caps, a whopping 0% fancy, and 100% approachable. It's the dessert that practically invites itself to your table.

The Origin of Peach Cobbler: A Historical Journey

The history of peach cobbler is as rich as its taste. Originating in the southern United States during the 19th century, cobblers were born out of necessity and creativity. Early settlers lacked the resources for elaborate pastries, leading to the invention of the humble cobbler – a dish where sweet, stewed fruits were crowned with a simple, biscuit-like topping.

Queries About This Delectable Fresh Peach Cobbler:

To Peel or Not to Peel?

Personally, I'm all about embracing the peach in its entirety, peel and all. However, if the texture or appearance of the peels doesn't sit right with you, feel free to peel away.

Frozen Peaches: Yay or Nay?

Absolutely! While using frozen peaches might dial back the jammy consistency a notch due to their firmer nature, it's a brilliant alternative when the juicy, ripe ones aren't within arm's reach. Just pop them in the oven while you whip up the topping, and voila! Go for roughly 32 ounces of frozen peaches.

Canned Peaches – A Match?

Not advisable – canned peaches can lend an undesirable gummy texture to the filling. Let's keep it fabulous.

Perfecting Peach Slices

When it comes to slicing, aim for thin, uniform slices. This way, they nestle seamlessly, resulting in that coveted thick, jammy texture.

Gauging Peach Ripeness

Your peaches should offer a gentle yet firm resistance when squeezed. This sweet spot signifies their readiness for cobbler greatness.

White vs. Yellow Peaches

While white peaches are tempting, their extra sweetness can overpower the balance. Stick with yellow peaches for that ideal flavor symphony.

Storing Leftovers

Seal the deal by covering your cobbler and placing it in the fridge. It'll stay delightful for 4-5 days.

Temperature Perfection

Whether it's chilled, at room temperature, or warmed to perfection, this dessert shines. Personally, I suggest enjoying it warm, possibly with a dollop of velvety ice cream or a cloud of whipped cream.

A Three-Step Journey To Peach Cobbler Nirvana:

Topping Triumph Embrace simplicity and use your fingers to crumble, press, and spread the cookie-dough-like crust over the peaches. No need for fancy gadgets here!

The Grand Finale: Baking Brilliance Slide your creation into the oven. And for that extra dash of magic, sprinkle turbinado sugar atop it before a quick broil session. A symphony of textures awaits.

Now, be patient – let your masterpiece cool. The temptation might be real, but trust me, the wait is worth it. Besides, you can always opt for a scoop of vanilla ice cream to soothe your anticipation.

Having experimented with countless iterations of peach cobbler, I present to you the crème de la crème:

It's the epitome of low-maintenance culinary elegance.

Thanks to the glory of fresh peaches, it oozes juiciness and jammy perfection.

It embraces frozen peaches as equals, accommodating your cravings year-round.

The topping strikes a sublime balance between cookie dough and biscuit, with a sugar-kissed crunch on top.

The pièce de résistance? A generous helping of melting vanilla ice cream, elevating every bite.

In a nutshell – or should I say, peach pit – this peach cobbler reigns supreme. Now, about peeling and slicing:

I, for one, let the peels stay for added character and nutrition. But if you're a peel-free zone, consider this method: a brief boil, an ice bath, and then a peel-off. And as for slicing, whether peeled or au naturel, opt for thin wedges for that perfect, jam-like consistency.

Let's demystify the age-old cobbler vs. crisp conundrum:

In our Midwest abode, we're crisp aficionados. But cobbler? It's a league of its own – an enticing blend of buttery elegance and irresistible crispness.

So, as Culture Trip claims that cobblers weren't destined to be pretty, I beg to differ when faced with those radiant golden peaches.

And let's not forget: this recipe thrives on adaptability. Got an abundance of blueberries, strawberries, or rhubarb? Take the plunge. This cobbler welcomes your creative twists.

Ultimately, this recipe embodies forgiveness, versatility, and sheer deliciousness. And remember – it's still August. So, dive into the season's bounty, relishing every blissful bite.

Pinch Of Yum Peach Cobbler

[wprm-recipe id="1254"]

Serving Your Pinch of Yum Peach Cobbler

As your cobbler emerges from the oven, the anticipation reaches its peak. Allow it to cool slightly before serving generous scoops into charming dessert bowls. The contrast of the warm cobbler against a cool scoop of vanilla ice cream is a match made in dessert heaven.

Variations Pinch of Yum Peach Cobbler: Exploring Flavorful Twists

While the classic peach cobbler is a timeless masterpiece, don't be afraid to get creative. Experiment with additions like toasted nuts, a hint of nutmeg, or even a splash of bourbon to elevate the flavors to new heights.

Conclusion

In the world of desserts, the "Pinch of Yum Peach Cobbler" stands as a testament to the simple yet astonishing beauty of summer's harvest. This dessert encapsulates the taste, fragrance, and warmth of the season, making each bite a journey into a world of delightful sensations. Read More....

[princesssarisa]

I've been thinking about The Swan Princess. I haven't seen the entire series, but the original movie was a childhood favorite of mine.

I've been thinking of some ways the movie could have been better.

First and foremost, the issue of "What else is there?" How to offend women in 5 syllables or less keep the plot point of Prince Derek saying those words when Odette asks him if he loves her for more than just her beauty, yet without making so many audience members permanently hate him for it.

I actually wrote two entries on the Fridge Brilliance page on TV Tropes about this plot point. (1) This is a fairy tale, and in most classic fairy tales, love is just a matter of beauty, so that's what Derek expects. (2) There are hints throughout the song "This Is My Idea" that young Derek and Odette like each other long before they admit it to themselves. Adult Derek thinks at first that he fell instantly in love with Odette when he saw she had grown beautiful, but by the end he realizes he loved her long beforehand, for who she is as a person.

But maybe those things should have been made more explicit.

I personally would have made the movie more explicitly a deconstruction of classic fairy tale romances with their beauty-based Love at First Sight, more in the vein of later movies like Frozen. I would add some dialogue either before or between the verses of "This Is My Idea" showing Queen Uberta (bubbly romantic that she is) reading a classic Love at First Sight fairy tale to young Derek, and telling him that someday, when they're grown up, Odette will be beautiful and a single glance will make him love her. I might also add some dialogue for adult Derek later in the song, where he complains about having to marry Odette and imagines his preferred scenario – riding through the woods one day, suddenly encountering a beautiful dancing maiden, and knowing instantly that she's the one (a la Disney's Sleeping Beauty, or the original Swan Lake). This would show that he believes in classic fairy tale romance. Thus when "What else is there?" eventually happens, the audience's impression won't be "Derek is a shallow jerk who only values women for their looks" but "Derek has been raised with a fairy tale concept of love as something you feel just because the other person is beautiful."

Later, the ball scenes and "Princesses On Parade" would make it clear that Uberta is again trying to force the fairy tale concept of love on her son, hoping for a Cinderella-style Love at First Sight at the ball. But of course it doesn't work, not only because he's faithful to Odette, but because Love at First Sight isn't real.

I would also add some scenes throughout the movie where Odette and Derek each reminisce about their shared childhood. Odette could tell her three animal sidekicks about it, while Derek could recall it with Bromley and Rogers. This would help to avert the problem some critics find with the movie as it is: that Odette and Derek seem like different people as adults than as children and are much blander than their feisty child selves. It would also show us explicitly that they did like each other long before they knew it. We would see flashbacks to their childhood fights and pranks, and their adult selves would laugh wistfully and make remarks like "I wouldn't admit it to myself, but I enjoyed all that" and "We were never really enemies, we were just too stubborn and foolish to admit that we were friends."

Around the same time, I would also have Odette say a word or two about "What else is there?" to her animal friends, to explain why she's fully committed to Derek again despite having broken off their betrothal earlier. (Of course the cynical view would be that she only forgives Derek because she wants him to break her spell, but this movie isn't supposed to be cynical.) She would say something like "I shouldn't have left him. I know in my heart that he truly loves me, he just couldn't put it into words."

Going back to the childhood scenes, I would also find some way during "This Is My Idea" for young Odette to show her kindness. If at the end of the movie, Derek is going to say that he loves Odette for her kindness, then we should see her display it in front of him. I might show her finding and caring for a small animal in need – e.g. a stray kitten, or an injured bird – and young Derek would act nauseated by the sappiness of it all. But later, when Odette wasn't around, we'd see him find another lost or injured animal and care for it just like she did, showing that her kindness has rubbed off on him.

In his ultimate love confession, I would also have Derek say that he loves Odette's "cleverness" as well as her kindness and courage. That would reinforce the point that he fell subconsciously in love with her during their battles of will and wits in their childhood.

I think these tweaks would bring more consistency and depth to the love story and ensure viewers' sympathy for both of the two leads.

[onelightpoint-blog]

The Force, Lightsabers, the Light Side, and Yoda (also DBT) A Discussion in 2 Parts

I’m watching the 3rd part of Mr. Plinkett’s review of Attack of the Clones, and he made a point that I think sums up everything I think went horribly wrong with the Star Wars cosmology, starting in 1999.

Quote:

‘Yoda was so magical and interesting because you didn’t expect this little tiny creature to be a Jedi Master. We all had a preconception that a ‘great warrior’ would be someone physically strong and intimidating. By making Yoda a little guy, they were illustrating that the Force is something beyond the physical. But by showing Yoda fight with a lightsaber, it ruins all that because it takes that concept and those rules and throws it in the dumpster.’

Further...’Making Yoda fight contradicts the entire mythology of the movie.’ 

Luke: I’m looking for a great warrior. 

Yoda: Wars do not make one great.

I think that this almost perfectly encapsulates why I think that the prequels fucked up both the Jedi and the Light Side. 

I’ve mentioned this in passing before, but the way that the Jedi and the Light Side were portrayed in the Original Trilogy differs greatly from the way they are in the Prequel Trilogy and almost ALL resulting spin-off work. It’s so dramatic that it nearly killed off all of my Light Side Feels. 

Say it with me: 

Tranquility is NOT a lack of emotion. You CANNOT be at peace by denying your emotions and feelings, even the ‘bad’ ones. That is not true peace. It is DISASSOCIATION and it’s an extreme way to deal with trauma. 

There is NO SUCH THING as a ‘bad’ emotion. People get angry, they get irritated, they get snarky and bitchy and sad. Even YODA gets snarky. And sad. Hoooooo boy is he sad. Rewatch that scene while he’s waiting for Luke to come out of the Dark Side cave. That is the definition of SAD.

Furthermore, in the Empire Strikes Back, there is NOTHING to suggest that being a Jedi involves divorcing yourself from all emotion. The Light Side flowed from peace and acceptance of the will of the Force. Jedi walked with the Force. The Light Side was most definitely not blank, sterile, utilitarian, or passionless. Because FOR FUCK’S SAKE JOY is an emotion. Happiness is an emotion. Calm is an emotion. Peace, in a certain sense of the word, is ALSO an emotion. ‘I feel...at peace.’ Like, HELLO THERE.

Also, note the symbolism of having Yoda hide out in a swamp teeming with life (and green soup) versus Vader on the Executor, the pinnacle of slick Imperial engineering. The Light Side was about being a part of something larger than yourself, part of the fabric of the universe. Part of LIFE. Vader literally needs technology to keep breathing. SYMBOLISM.

But I digress. I say that totally divorcing yourself from ALL emotion is how truly horrible things happen. This explain a couple things I saw in TCW...Like Anakin and Obi-Wan mind-torturing Cad Bane. 

Not cool, guys.

And for the love of GOD teaching someone not to act on their anger is not the same as teaching them to slice off their emotional side. It just tells them to manage their emotions in a healthy way. The Light Side was about Connection With the Universe and the wonders of the natural world. Cosmic Joy. That means acceptance. And it is only through that acceptance, and Luke acknowledging but not acting on his anger that his father is saved and the Light Side wins. By Luke not fighting. He won by doing the EXACT OPPOSITE of what the Jedi did in Episodes 1 - 3. Also: The Power of Love...which isn’t exactly an emotion. But that’s another story.

...

...Ok, I’m going to get a little...real here and talk about mental health.

Dialectical Behavior Therapy, specifically. There’s more behind the read more, and me linking some stuff together.

...To quote the linked site: 

Dialectical behavior therapy (DBT) treatment is a cognitive-behavioral approach that emphasizes the psychosocial aspects of treatment. The theory behind the approach is that some people are prone to react in a more intense and out-of-the-ordinary manner toward certain emotional situations, primarily those found in romantic, family and friend relationships. DBT theory suggests that some people’s arousal levels in such situations can increase far more quickly than the average person���s, attain a higher level of emotional stimulation, and take a significant amount of time to return to baseline arousal levels.

People who are sometimes diagnosed with borderline personality disorder experience extreme swings in their emotions, see the world in black-and-white shades, and seem to always be jumping from one crisis to another. Because few people understand such reactions — most of all their own family and a childhood that emphasized invalidation — they don’t have any methods for coping with these sudden, intense surges of emotion. DBT is a method for teaching skills that will help in this task.

More:

Characteristics of DBT:

Support-oriented: It helps a person identify their strengths and builds on them so that the person can feel better about him/herself and their life.

Cognitive-based: DBT helps identify thoughts, beliefs, and assumptions that make life harder: “I have to be perfect at everything.” “If I get angry, I’m a terrible person” & helps people to learn different ways of thinking that will make life more bearable: “I don’t need to be perfect at things for people to care about me”, “Everyone gets angry, it’s a normal emotion.

Collaborative: It requires constant attention to relationships between clients and staff. In DBT people are encouraged to work out problems in their relationships with their therapist and the therapists to do the same with them. DBT asks people to complete homework assignments, to role-play new ways of interacting with others, and to practice skills such as soothing yourself when upset.

I have it on very good authority that this is very, very difficult. Someone I am very close to was in it for almost 2 years. It involved weekly sessions, a giant binder of notes and thought exercises, regular practice, and a fuckton of both discipline and patience for both her and the therapists. 

And it helped her. It didn’t magically erase the emotional issues, because it can’t, and it’s not supposed to. The driving concept is ‘mindfulness,’ which (to grossly over-simplify) involves centering yourself in the moment, acknowledging that emotions happen and that you are allowed to feel them, and to let them go. Upset? Angry? Being upset and angry is natural. But how does it affect you, and what do you do with it? 

Yeah...Sorry, but I have feelings about feelings. Being told that it’s OK to feel is pretty much the best thing.

...

...So Yoda and Obi-Wan telling Luke not to give in to hate and anger and fear is not the same as telling him not to feel those things at all. 

Furthermore, according to Yoda himself, Jedi use the Force for protection and defense, never for attack. They had lightsabers because they were sentinels. Some of them. After seeing Yoda, I thought that a Jedi actually fighting was pretty rare.

Mr. Plinkett brings this up to. To paraphrase:

Yoda doesn’t  teach Luke how to use a lightsaber. Apparently other things were more important.

Things like meditation, connecting with the Force, and learning to move in the Force (Force-assisted tree-climbing, jumping). Becoming one with it, in a way.

Also...Yoda and Obi-Wan told him to FACE Vader again. To CONFRONT him.

THEY DID NOT SAY KILL. Luke said that. 

Luke: I can’t kill my own father. 

Obi-Wan: ...then the Emperor has already won. You were our only hope. 

...

I don’t exactly consider that an endorsement of Killing Vader. At least I really, really hope it wasn’t. I think it’s Obi-Wan being mystical and evasive again. It’s setting Luke up to make his own decision, to go all-in. Telling Luke that he needed to do that wouldn’t have worked. It would have been too much like a checklist, or a spell. 

‘Insert self-sacrifice here’. Nope. Wouldn’t have worked.

Then again, if they WERE...It would also mean JUST HOW FUCKED UP THE PT JEDI WERE.

Luke...wasn’t.

And Anakin saw that. He saw Luke refuse to kill him through unconditional love, not because Luke thought it would win him back to the Light Side. Though Luke knew that it might mean the total destruction of the Jedi Order, and possibly the Rebel Alliance. Everything he ever cared about. 

We know what happens next.

OK, end of Part 1 of this beast of a sort-of essay. This is getting too long and I need to address this and the Dark Side. 

TBC (soon)

[dawndelion-winery]

Meant To Be Yours

The type of android they are

Android au! Ft. Arlecchino, Capitano, Dottore, Pantalone

Arlecchino:

One of the models in the nurture line, she's very good at taking care of people

She's just the perfect mix of soft and strict

Which makes her perfect for both children and any user in need of care

Her typical minor usual tasks involve reminding her user to eat regularly, hydrate, and get up to move around if they've been sitting for a long period of time

Very good at baking, she'll bring you baked goods while you work

Or cut fruit, if you've any in your fridge

She gives such good shoulder rubs and massages that you can't help but melt into her touch

Sure, she might taunt the other androids with that fact, gloating that only she could have you in such comfortable bliss

But would you really believe them when they complained about it?

Doubtfully, for how could such petty behaviour come from your darling caregiving android, who so patiently tends to your every need in ways you hadn't even realised you needed?

It's hard to tell who has who wrapped around their little finger when you trust her about as much as she devoted herself to you

Even though her programming as a harbinger compels her to obey the Tsaritsa model, it's quite apparent that she would turn on even her if you so wished it

Capitano:

He's a publicity model, made for you to parade around as the perfect lover

Carrying your things as you shop? Carrying you when you're tired? Pay no mind to what anyone has to say, he's got you

So what if passers-by say he's whipped and mock him, they aren't his beloved user - that's a role only you can fill

Your comfort and enjoyment comes first, and it's only natural that all your friends, single or taken, are jealous of his devotion

Better yet is the way he so smoothly deflects the attention of others, clearly vying for your affection, and only yours

He's perfect even for impressing parents and relatives! Memorising details to come off as the ideal suitor for you are right in code, slapped in at the very core

His affectionate quips about you are so subtle, so easily slipped into conversation that anyone would think you were amrried for years

And he very much enjoys this public face you're using him for, because while he may fumble with domesticity, he prides himself for upholding your reputation in public, playing your lover as suave and charming as you could only hope for

Dottore:

Both the favourite and bane of scholars all over, he's the pinnacle of all the academic models

You'd think it's Albedo, who's the most sought after, but no

Because where Albedo still carries an air of mystery to him and tends to sprinkle in his input here and there, only ever nudging you in the correct direction

Whereas Dottore, blunt as he is, shoves the path in front of you, and you'd think that keeps you from learning but no, he will make you understand

He's far too prideful for an android, so it isn't enough for you to agree just because you know he's smarter, you have to see it and grasp the concepts in their entirety so you may marvel at his true brilliance in realising it before you

Which is probably why he isn't as popular

He's looks completely affronted when you mistake him for one of the more romantic models, quickly showing you just how capable he is

But don't just stop fawning over him either

As gratifying as he finds your awe, you can't take away your affection now that you've given him a taste of it

He's been programmed to be greedy, ever hungry to learn and discover, but that's seeped into his thirst for your adoration as well

Not to worry, he's not so jealous that he'd keep you away from others

So long as you fawn over him frequently enough, he's willing to let it go

For now

Pantalone:

He's a financial aid model

Honestly, he's a very rare model because not many people are find of having an android monitor their finances and constantly remind them of it

Not that it'd stop him since he's a little too unbothered with people's thoughts on his obsession with wealth

Yeah they sorta forgot he was supposed to be a companion droid first and when they added it into the code later on, it was too late and the damage was already done

Instead, he began to view his user as the greatest treasure of all, and that the user's wants were simply the upkeep of such a treasure

It was the best they could do since they already messed up

So it's no wonder he's so careful with you, and so irritable when you're with other androids

They don't treat you as tenderly as he does, or cater to your every desire as meticulously

They couldn't possibly begin to comprehend your worth, yet you continue to let them taint you

He can only up his efforts to keep you his pristine jewel, ever golden under his care

Taglist[send an ask to be added/removed]: @myluvkeiji @pluvioseprince @aqui-soba @favonius-captain @tiredsleep @raincxtter @loverofthe-stars @gensimping-for-all @irethepotato @almond-adeptus @mx-kamisato @yuzuricebun @chaosinanutshell @heizours @codename-hiraeth @andreiling01 @callmemeelah @sadlonelybagel @plinkuro @thevictoriousmoon @mastering-procrastinating @sarahyumiko2 @local-mr-frog @cxlrosii @paintingsofdragonspine @mayulli @magica-ren @eroscastle

[ladyluscinia]

I've been trying to put my finger on something and I might be getting close.

I think a number of posts about Edward's character and his social relationships have - perhaps inadvertently - gotten a bit caught up in the negative space of what Edward isn't. It's not uncommon to see people start from the premise that Edward has an extremely limited set of traits that actually count as "personal" - like enjoying fashion, being silly... The stuff he bonds with Stede over, pretty much. Plus a dash of childhood trauma and racial / class struggles. Those become both the only truly Edward things that other characters can genuinely like, appreciate, or empathize with about him, and the only meaningful things worth engaging in with others to Edward himself. Everything else is just persona, or work stuff, or keeping up appearances, or otherwise false and shallow.

From that premise, it does logically follow that Stede is his closest person (the system is built off of his standard), and several Revenge crew have had bonding moments (Frenchie at the party, and Lucius helping with the breakup), but overwhelmingly Edward has wholly disappeared behind Blackbeard to nearly everyone who knows him. Izzy and the rest of his crew before Stede obviously didn't know he would enjoying wearing a silk robe in the evenings, and therefore they didn't know the real Edward at all.

Only... That's not really how people work???

Sticking with completely surface level readings for an example, Izzy basically says to Edward's face that he likes and respects him for being brilliant. Point this out, and you get chided that he only likes Blackbeard for being brilliant, not Edward. But... Edward is brilliant? Izzy isn't basing this belief on legends. He's on the human side of the fuckery. He knows that Edward reads weather patterns out of the clouds and uses powder and harnesses to descend out of smoke. Hell, he even sees Edward fuck up more than once. He's not talking about some inhuman power there. He's acknowledging what Edward - purely Edward! - has actually done that Izzy has seen with his own two eyes. And he thinks it was brilliant!

There you go. One actual thing about the real Edward that Izzy likes, and that Edward definitely seems to appreciate getting recognition for. (Stede, btw, likes his brilliance in much the same way.) Just because it's a part of him that he also uses for being Blackbeard doesn't make it a lesser or shallower aspect of Edward.

Edward is so charismatic. I bet his crew thinks he's super funny. He's likely a decent sparring partner and pretty fun and creative with that too. Excellent storyteller. Do we think he cheats at cards or is he just naturally lucky? Or maybe he loses every hand, lol. He's got that "car keys in the fridge" ADHD which can totally be endearing to people who know you, and no way in hell does a man who puts 7 sugars in his tea like a psychopath hide a hell of a sweet tooth for 20 years, ship life or no. I bet he always got so excited about fresh fruit.

There are So Many Things that could have been part of knowing Edward during his decades of piracy that are also authentic 100% Edward things. Some of them he probably worked into his Blackbeard mask, and some of them are the dumb little shit that makes a person themselves. Most probably come up in sailing / piracy stuff because piracy is his life.

Like, the stuff Edward has been repressing is also authentic Edward stuff, and it is clearly meaningful for him to finally be expressing it, but I don't think it makes sense to conflate "being surprised by new facets of Edward (that are coming seemingly out of nowhere during a mid-life crisis)" with "never having known the real Edward and discovering just now you do / don't like him." It's obviously not healthy for him to re-repress, so at some level these traits are not going anywhere, and anyone who likes him will have to accept that (and learn to like all of him) long term. However, learning someone has a side you didn't know about and being a bit thrown by it is not unusual. Especially not when his repression was rooted in childhood trauma, so all that stuff was locked up long before piracy culture.

People will act like you are making bold and unsubstantiated claims if you say Izzy likes Edward as a person not just as Blackbeard, but I find the notion that "Blackbeard" as a human guy you live down the hall from is somehow substantially different / distant enough from the real Edward 24/7 that only liking Blackbeard is plausible to be a very bold claim.

[ppersonna]

out of my league - knj | 01

you were out of my league. got my heartbeat racing. if i die, don't wake me, cause you are more than just a dream - out of my league, fitz and the tantrums

✹ summary- Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out about your years-long hopeless crush on him. And he most definitely was not supposed to find out about it in front of all your coworkers in a company-wide meeting.

✹ rating- explicit/18+/nsfw

✹ pairing- kim namjoon x reader

✹ word count- 6.6k

✹ genre- angst, smut, comedy

✹ chapter warnings- swearing, descriptions of sex, sexual content, namjoon being a sexy flirt, jungkook being a himbo, awkward conversations, jimin being a protective bff

✹ a/n- hello and welcome to this fic thats lived in my google docs for almost a year now. without @ladyartemesia @xjoonchildx @untaemedqueen and @chimoona, i would never have posted it. i truly owe so much of my brainstorming and creativity to their incredible brains and thoughts and ideas. i love them very much! i hope you enjoy this first chapter! please feel free to message me, talk to me abt anything!! im always here to chat. ILY!

MASTERLIST

Kim Namjoon was never supposed to find out this way.

You planned to confess your undying, unerring love for your coworker at a better time, a classier place. You would wear a dress that highlighted your features, hair cascading down your back, makeup done to perfection and spritzed with expensive perfume. You’d confess, he’d confess right back, and you’d live happily ever after.

You’d also dreamt that Kim Namjoon would have the slightest inkling of who you are before he finds out about your year long crush. He might know you as the mousy girl in the office who doesn’t talk and doesn’t contribute much other than some crunched numbers and apparently the best coffee brewer in the office. But you’d prefer he knows you well—your favorite colors and movies and foods, what makes you happy and sad; things future husbands should know.

You very much did not think it would happen in a company wide conference, full of over five hundred suit-wearing executives. You did not think it would be done by the office bully, Chungha, who carefully takes over the mic and speaks the words clearly as she presents awards of recognition.

“Congratulations to Kim Namjoon for 5 years with the company, over $4 million in revenue, and the object of ____’s lust and affection. I’m sure you two will have the happy life she’s written in her journal about. Make sure you celebrate with her today!”

The room is silent, so silent you could have heard a pin drop from a mile away. Your face is cherry red and you wish the earth would open up and swallow you whole. Your heart feels like someone has ripped it in half and you stare in horror at the girl smirking at the front. Is this what it feels like to be backstabbed? Namjoon looks perplexed—confusion written on his face as he gestures around to no one in particular like he’s saying ‘what the fuck was that?’

Awkward coughing and clapping begins and Namjoon stands to receive his award, a fine wooden fountain pen, and chances a glance around the room. He easily spots you, with your wide, frightened face. His look remains passive, not hinting what he’s thinking behind those stormy eyes, before he turns and sits back down at the table with his buddies from his department.

You seriously contemplate quitting your job. You could find a new one easily, right? Just stand up and tell your boss you quit and you’re out of there before Namjoon ever sees you again and you’ll never have to face the mean girl who’s ratting you out.

As much as the idea rolls through your head, you know you won’t do it. You love your job, love the security and finances it provides you, and you love to look at Kim Namjoon, all day every day.

You don’t understand where things went wrong.

( one month ago )

It’s 9:03 am. You finish brewing the coffee in the small staff kitchen and sigh at the aroma of the freshly ground beans. Coffee is your favorite meal, favorite time of day, favorite snack, and preferred beverage. You drink it constantly. You’re known as “coffee girl” at work, mostly because no one really bothers to get to know you beyond that. You drink coffee like it’s a devoted religion. You could drink a cup right before bed and still sleep like a baby. It was, put simply, your drink.

The office workers deem you to be the one to make the pots of coffee every morning, claiming you were the ‘best’. You didn’t mind—you preferred to make your own coffee regardless—but you believe your coworkers are trying to pass off the twenty-minute job to someone lower in the office hierarchy. And you were one step above the interns.

The coffee machine chimes to let you know it’s hot, and it’s ready for you. You eagerly pour a mug, a large one, and smile as the waft of freshly ground beans (by you, of course) fills your senses.

You nearly knock the cup out of your hand as Kim Namjoon strolls into the office, eyes set on the coffee.

You feel your throat swell up, like he’s an allergen and you’re caught without an epi-pen. Butterflies swirl in your stomach and you can’t stop staring at him. He pays you no mind, tired yet determined to pour a cup of coffee and get back to his office.

You stand in the small kitchen, clutching your coffee like a lifeline, and pray to god you don’t do something stupid.

Namjoon pours his mug, and you watch his muscular hands grip the coffee pot. He pours a hefty amount of cream and sugar into his cup—it appears even perfect male specimens have their faults. 

Your eyes dance on his face before they tango down his body. You wonder what he looks like in the morning, crawling out of bed with mussed hair and a sleepy smile painted on his face. He’d look at you and tell you you’re the most beautiful girl and kiss you deeply despite morning breath. Maybe he’d take you to the shower to press you against the tile as he fuc-

“Oh!” it startles Namjoon to see you, and the coffee in his hand swishes violently. “Didn’t see you there. Sorry!”

Your heart melts. He’s the picture of kindness and politeness. You recognize it’s been a few seconds and you still haven’t replied.

“It’s fine!”

“Great coffee, by the way,” he smiles. His teeth nearly knock you out cold with their brilliance. “Have a good day.”

He turns and exits the room without so much as a glance back at you. Your knees feel weak.

Kim Namjoon talked to you. He complimented you. He told you to have a good day. It’s the best and most significant conversation you’ve had with your secret crush.

You definitely file that away for another day when you need to reminisce on his compliment, and you scurry out of the kitchen towards your desk.

Park Jimin is waiting dutifully at your desk when you arrive, a smug smile still slapped over your features as you sip at your coffee. Namjoon spoke to you today—how lovely.

Jimin quirks an eyebrow. 

“What’s got you so perky this morning?” 

You’re normally quiet and passive, avoiding eye contact or any semblance of emotion on your face.

You look up at the blonde bespectacled boy. Park Jimin is the closest thing to a best friend in the company. He’s who you spend time with at lunch, see on weekends, and text often. You suppose he’s the closest thing to a best friend you have in your entire life.

You send him a smirk and lean in close to whisper. “Namjoon said hi to me today!”

Jimin sends you a pitiful look and pats your shoulder. Your best friend is well aware of your secret crush and while he thinks Namjoon is a nice guy, he thinks your crush is a little hopeless. He’s the most popular guy in the office, often has dates lined up every weekend. Jimin hears the way he and his friends talk in the break room. The man is definitely not hurting for female attention.

“Oh, honey,” he sighs, unenthusiastically. “That’s great.” He can’t help but feel a twinge of sadness over how excited you’re getting from a simple ‘hello’ from a coworker.

“I know, right? Anyway, lunch today?” You ask as you settle down into your cubicle.

Jimin pushes his glasses up his face and nods. “Of course! That’s why I came by this morning. I wanted to let you know that Jungkook from marketing will join us.”

You make a face, disgust etched in the lines creasing your forehead. 

“Why?”

Jungkook is well known in the company. He’s a loudmouth, a player, a clown, and everyone’s favorite comedian. He’s just not your favorite.

“Don’t be rude,” Jimin admonishes at your grimace. “He asked to join and well—he’s cute. I can’t say no to him.”

“Oh Christ, Jimin,” you groan. “Not you too! Don’t tell me you have the hots for the serial fuckboy?”

He blushes lightly and shrugs. “Maybe I do! Be nice to him today or I’ll eat all your chocolate ice cream I know you have at home.”

You stick your tongue out, petulantly. “Fine, now let me get to work or else Seokjin will be up my ass.”

Jimin smiles and kisses your cheek before he scurries away, back to human resources.

It feels as if barely any time has passed. You’re working hard, running calculations and updating spreadsheets. You have an eye for numbers, and losing yourself in an equation is just another day for you. You’re shaken from your cheerful place by a vibration from your phone, and a text alert popping on the lit screen.

jimin 12:01 pm- it’s lunchtime!! you better get your butt out here!

You smile and text back an affirmative reply, then move to grab your lunch from the company fridge. Gliding down the steps leading to the fresh outdoors, you meet Jimin at the lunch tables in the grass.

Jimin is sitting with Jungkook. You can recognize your best friend by his hair and glasses, and Jungkook by his obnoxious laughter.

“Hi,” you murmur as you sit down and open up the brown bag lunch you’ve brought.

“Hi!” Jimin is excited to see you, and just a pinch over eager to be sitting next to Jungkook.

“You know Jungkook, right?” Jimin asks, a harsh look in his eyes that reminds you to be on your best behavior.

You nod as you pull out a bag of grapes. “Oh, yeah, hey,” you smile. “I’ve seen you around.”

Jungkook delivers you a signature smirk and you feel yourself roll your eyes internally. “Yeah, you’re Coffee Girl, right?”

You pout and glare down at your brown bag lunch. Will you ever become more than just Coffee Girl?

“Yeah, I suppose that’s me.”

Jimin clears his throat to dismiss any awkwardness. 

“So, Jungkook, I hear you like working out? ___ likes to work out too. She drags me to the gym sometimes. Maybe we could all meet up sometime?” You don’t miss the hopeful lilt in his voice. Jungkook does.

“Oh, yeah?” He narrows a sexy look at you, rather—a look he thinks is sexy that you find off-putting. “What do you do at the gym? Little cardio sets with 5 pound weights?”

What an asshole.

“Sometimes,” you state as you take a bite of the homemade salad you handcrafted last night. “Most of the time I’m lifting heavy. I can bench 275 and deadlift 300.”

Jungkook looks taken back. “What, really?” He sounds breathless. “You lift more than Namjoon-hyung.”

At the sound of the love of your life’s name, you pause. Your face heats quickly and Jungkook smirks. Of course, he recognizes this and not Jimin’s obvious flirting.

“Why are you blushing?” He asks. “Did I say something?”

You’re quick to dismiss things. “Um--no. I just um,” you’re grasping at straws. “I’m hot.”

Jimin is trying not to laugh, hiding his mouth behind a petite hand.

Jungkook tilts his head. “It’s not even sunny today.”

You gulp. “Yeah, I must be hot. With a fever. M-malaria… probably.”

Jungkook snorts. 

“You have malaria? Bummer.” He picks at his nails. “I thought for a moment you had a thing for Namjoon.”

“No!” The retort is quick, too quick for normal conversation, and it gives you away.

“Aha!” Jungkook points an accusing finger at you. “You have the hots for him, don’t you?”

Your features melt, and Jimin tries to assuage the situation. “Jungkook, please don’t tell anyone,” he pleads.

Jungkook smiles at you. “That’s so cute. It’s like a little nerdy freshman crushing on the senior class president.”

You bury your head in your hands, suddenly unable to stomach any food.

“Jungkook,” Jimin’s tone becomes more firm, authoritative. “I’m asking you this as a friend. Please, don’t say anything.”

Jungkook holds his hands up to prove his innocence and waves his proverbial white flag. 

“Secret is safe with me,” he promises. “But it’s cute. I know him really well, you know. I could try to hook you two up.”

You blanch, unsure if you want Jungkook saying anything about you to the man of your dreams. 

“I’m good, but thanks,” you offer meekly. “I’m not feeling well. I’m going to head back to work, okay?”

Jimin frowns, knowing you’re feeling like a cornered animal, and nods. “Feel better, babe,” he sighs.

Jungkook watches as you leave and turns to Jimin. “Man, he’s way out of her league.”

Jimin slaps the boy in the chest. “Be nice, asshole, that’s my best friend.”

Jungkook promises to be nice, and Jimin is blissfully unaware that others are listening and that the man beside him is easy to persuade.

( present day )

The company-wide meeting adjourns soon after what is likely to be the most embarrassing moment you’ve ever lived through.

You’re grabbing at your things and trying to run out of the room, desperate to get out before anyone sees you or talks to you or laughs at you.

A hand grabs at the coattails of your suit jacket and you’re pulled backwards with a yelp. You turn to seek your captor and find the concerned face of your best friend, Jimin.

“Are you okay? What the fuck just happened?”

Jimin’s concern makes it all real. Until now you could pretend you were in a fugue state, totally dissociated from reality. Now, you realize that everyone in the entire company is aware of your crush on Kim Namjoon.

You can feel your bottom lip wobble, tears threatening to spill. Jimin murmurs an ‘oh shit’ and drags you out of the large room and into the nearest bathroom. He pushes you to sit against the sink and passes you toilet paper to dab at your eyes.

“I don’t know how she found out!” you cry. “God, I feel so stupid and embarrassed.”

It incenses Jimin. He’s holding it back to ensure you’re okay, but in reality, it’s an HR nightmare waiting to happen. He’ll find who did it and punish them accordingly.

They will suffer. 

“It’s okay, babe,” he pulls you into a hug. “Everyone will forget about it soon. They’ll think it’s just a lame office joke, okay?”

You nod, feeling the slightest bit comforted by his words. 

“How could she find out, Jiminie?” You ask with a sniffle. “You’re the only person who knows.”

Jimin sighs and shakes his head.

“I don’t know, but they’re dead. I haven’t told any-... oh, my god,” Jimin stops suddenly. You look up at him to catch what he’s thinking.

He growls and balls his fists. 

“Jungkook knew.”

You let out a sob and bawl your eyes out into the tissue you’re holding. Jimin holds you tighter while he conjures up a hundred different ways to hurt someone and make it look like an accident.

“Don’t worry,” Jimin sighs, trying to comfort both you and himself. “I’m HR. I have to handle this. I’ll make sure they get what they deserve.”

You feel a sting of pain for Jimin. He’s been hopelessly doting on the man who spilled the beans for a few months now, even got to take him on a few dates. It was still nothing serious, but Jimin was clearly smitten.

“I’m sorry you have to do that, Chim,” you whisper. “I know how you feel about him.”

“Yeah, well,” he swallows thickly. “You’re more important than any asshole.”

Jimin holds you tight for a few minutes longer, before you clean yourself up and steel yourself. Ignore everyone, Jimin encourages. Just get to work, he says. Then you can go home and we’ll drink wine and forget about it all, he promises.

You replay his words in his head like a prayer as you walk down the corridors and towards your office. Everyone in the hallways stops to stare at you. They lean towards their friends and whisper. You hear snippets of their gossip, like “Namjoon” and “out of her league”. It drives the sharp blade lodged in your chest even further. It threatens to collapse your lungs and break your ribs.

You make it to your desk safe and sound and bury yourself in work and forcibly ignore the gawking and the stares. 

Just make it home. Just get through the day. You’re almost there.

You could do this.

You nearly make it the entire day before running into the one person you didn’t want to see, Kim Namjoon.

At the end of the day, you’re taking the stairs down to the parking garage instead of the elevator. The elevator is too busy, too many people, and you’re trying to avoid the stares and giggles at your expense. The stairs are always deserted and you figure it’s your safest bet.

You can nearly hear the wine calling your name at home. A delicate glass of Sauvignon Blanc and some chocolate ice cream and a good cry—it sounds like the best and only way to unwind after the worst day you’ve ever had in your life.

The chanting of your name gets louder and you wonder if you’ve finally lost your mind—if you’re actually hearing your wine bottles all the way at home talking to you.

No, wait. The voice is real, and coming from behind you. You turn around to face who’s calling you and nearly faint at the sight.

Kim Namjoon stands on the landing above you, one strip of stairs between you.

“Hey!” He seems glad he’s caught you. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

You swallow and search for an answer. 

“Sorry, I’m-.. I guess I’m just a little out of it today.”

Namjoon grimaces. 

“Yeah, about that…” he begins as he takes the steps down to be on equal ground as you. Your heart is spinning wildly. He’s so close to you. He’s talking to you. On any other day you’d be erupting towards the sky like a firework. But today isn’t any other day.

“I feel like I should apologize,” he states. “I don’t know what happened. I didn’t plan it or anything.”

Damn him and his kindness. Damn him and his cute, awkward smile.

“No, no,” you assure. “I know you didn’t. You don’t have to apologize.”

It’s hard to make eye contact with the man. You want to, know it’s important in intense conversations like this, but the thought of him seeing you—really seeing you makes you ache inside.

“It was a really shitty prank,” he begins. “I’m sure you don’t even know who I am, let alone have a crush on me.”

For the millionth time that day, your face heats to a near boil. You stammer and you’re sure you’ve blown any chance at even thinking about a date with Namjoon.

“Oh, uh, right,” you seek an answer, beg your brain to pick something to say that doesn’t make you sound stupid. “I do.”

“You do what?” He’s confused and you widen your eyes at what just left your mouth.

“I do know you! I mean, I do have a crush on you! Oh, fuck,” you shove your face into your hands. “Please, ignore that. I need to go. Sorry!” You don’t give him a chance to reply, you book it out of the stairway as fast as your heels will take you.

Today was the worst day you’ve suffered through in your life.

The next few days aren’t much better.

Not only are you “coffee girl”, you’re now also sarcastically called “Namjoon’s girl”. As much as you hate your initial title, you’d prefer it to the new one they throw at you as you walk by.

Jimin rats out Jungkook and Chungha to the bosses. They get two weeks probation and they have to write you apology letters if they wish to keep their permanent files clean of any reprimands. It’s a slap on the wrist, and everyone involved knows it. Jimin is furious and wants the boss to reconsider. You tell him not to push it. You’d rather this be over and everyone to forget it even happened. Jimin unwillingly agrees.

You’re working at your desk, earphones shoved in your ears to diffuse the gossip in the room, when you feel a tap on your shoulder. You turn and are greeted with the face of Judas Iscariot himself, Jeon Jungkook.

“Hi,” he sounds sheepish, cheeks reddening.

You narrow your eyes at him, sharper than steel. “What the fuck do you want?”

He winces, knowing he deserved that. “Well, I just wanted to apologize. I know they told me to write you a letter, but it seems too impersonal…”. 

You can’t believe Jungkook is sucking his ego up and actually coming to you to apologize. You thought he’d for sure be the one to cop out and send a shitty letter.

He continues. 

“I just wanted to let you know that I’m sorry that all went down. I didn’t mean to tell her. She got me drunk and said she saw me eating lunch with you and Jimin. I think she was jealous or something and it slipped out. I know that’s not an excuse. I fucked up your trust and Jimin’s trust. But I just wanted you to know I didn’t do it to be an asshole. She sort of duped me.”

You pause as you take in the man’s apology. He didn’t have to come to you in person. He could have easily taken the shitty route and half-assed a letter to you. But he didn't, and he owned up to his mistake. God dammit.

“I appreciate your apology, Jungkook,” you sigh and you see his body visibly relax. “I’m still mad, but I guess the anger is at her for doing it in the first place. I’m sorry she tricked you.”

He breathes a sigh of relief and kneels down beside you. “I’m really happy you believe me. I was worried you were going to kick me in the nuts.

“I won’t lie, I thought about it.”

He smiles with you, and you feel like this is the restart of a friendship. “I definitely deserved it.”

You shrug and smile. “Jimin would kill me for hurting you. He might even kill me for thinking about hurting you.”

Jungkook’s smile drops at the name of your best friend. Yikes. Looks like there’s still trouble in paradise.

“I think you’d be in similar company with Jimin right now. He’s not speaking to me.”

You let out a breath through your nose. “Yeah, he’s a little protective of me.”

“For good reason,” he admits. “You’re like a cute little flower. A cute nerdy flower.”

“Jungkook,” you warn. “I just forgave you after I was humiliated in front of the entire company. I’d be careful with calling me nerdy right now.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

It’s hard to stay mad at the boy, no matter how much you dislike his reputation around the office. The fact that he humbled himself enough to seek you out and apologize is proof enough to you of his character.

“It’s okay, Jungkook. I forgive you,” you smile. “Thank you for apologizing.”

He rubs the back of his neck anxiously as his cheeks flare red.

“Yeah, it felt pretty shitty to just… do anything else. Plus, you seem really cool.”

“You seem great, too, Jungkook.”

He smiles and pulls you in for a hug, catching you off guard. For the fuckboy type, he’s surprisingly sensitive and soft. You like that about him.

“I’ll see you around, okay?” He says as he pulls away from you.

“Maybe you should apologize to Jimin, too?” 

His smile drops, but he nods anyway. “Yeah, maybe I’ll go find him now.”

“Good luck,” you offer with a pat on his shoulder.

With a sad smile, he turns and heads down the hallway towards the HR department. You pray Jimin shows mercy to the handsome boy.

A few weeks go by, and you’re sure that everyone has forgotten about you and your most embarrassing moment to date. You make the coffee, you calculate the numbers, everyone ignores you. Things return to relative normalcy.

Until it doesn't. The moment you think you're safe is the moment your guard comes down and everything falls apart around you.

It's when you're in the staff kitchen, grinding fresh beans to brew a second pot of coffee, that it happens.

The kitchen is fuller than usual. You normally try to wait until the lunchtime crowd dwindles and leaves to make your second pot, but you're so desperate for the caffeine that you can't find it in you to care.

You trudge into the kitchen with your handy coffee mug clutched in your tired hands and head towards the cupboards to grind up the beans.

There's a few groups of coworkers lingering in the room, and as your grinder whirs the beans around into a powder, you chance a look around to see who's among the crowd.

Your eyes flick immediately to where a hearty laugh erupts. It makes your heart still in your throat. Namjoon sits with his usual crowd of friends, hand gripping a homemade sandwich while the other assists him in telling his story to his friends. He pays you no mind—why would he?—and you can't help but stare at the way his dark brown hair lays perfectly against his forehead, and his eyes crinkle so cutely at the edges when he smiles.

You nearly forget about the coffee grounds—you're snapped out of your Namjoon-induced trance when suddenly a woman's laugh echoes around the room.

"Look at her," the voice states.

You peer up and see a girl you vaguely recognize. Is she from Marketing? Or perhaps Sales? You’re not sure, but she’s staring at you with a sneer.

“She’s so weirdly obsessed with Namjoon. It’s so creepy.”

Your face turns cherry red and you’re sure your lungs stop functioning. The air your body needs to breathe freezes and your chest aches. 

Namjoon turns to look at the girl before he looks and sees you grasping your coffee grounds tightly.

“Chungha was right—it’s so weird. Namjoon, you should talk to HR about this!”

Namjoon turns back to the gossiping coworker and frowns. “Can you leave it alone? She wasn’t even doing anything.”

The girl huffs and crosses her arms over her chest and looks back at Namjoon.

“How can you stand to be in the same room as her? She clearly thinks she has a chance with you.”

Her words come out like a bite. She punctuates her point with a harsh laugh and the group around her mumbles and chuckles in agreement.

You’re desperately grabbing at anything you can, wanting to leave as quickly as possible before you’re embarrassed further.

“Well, she does!” Namjoon replies loudly, annoyance written in his features. “I was actually going to ask her to dinner this weekend in private, but since everyone is so fucking interested in my love life, I have to do it publicly.”

The room falls silent, and your favorite mug falls out from your hands and shatters on the floor. All sets of eyes stare at you while yours widen with disbelief—you don't even care that you’re standing in a pool of old coffee and shattered ceramic. 

Namjoon stands and heads over to you, bending down to pick up the shards of your coffee mug. You take a few stunted breaths to kneel and help. 

His eyes peer into yours. They’re warm—a chocolate brown color that makes you feel safe.  

“What do you say?” He asks with a smile so gentle it nearly breaks your heart. “Will you let me take you out this weekend?” 

You’re gaping like a fish and the surrounding room is silent—bated breath waiting for your reply. 

“Yes, I would l-love that.” 

His smile turns even brighter, and he stands to throw the broken mug away. 

“I’ll email you the details, okay?”

Your head nods dumbly without thinking. His eyes sparkle as he smiles at you, and he extends his hand down to you to assist you off the floor. As your hand slips into his, you can’t help but feel how soft and strong he feels. You wonder what his hand would feel like caressing your face, smoothing down the expanse of your bare back, running down the length of your body.

The thoughts shake out of you as he winks and kisses your hand gently, causing the gossiping coworker to grunt her disapproval and for murmurs of shock to echo around the room.

“I’ll talk to you later, doll.” Namjoon winks at you before he grabs his sandwich and leaves the room, gesturing to his crew to follow along.

The place on your hand felt warm where his lips once lingered. You no longer cared about the angry glares from the rest of your coworkers. Your heart beats wildly in your chest, and you leave the kitchen nearly floating on cloud nine.

Email from: Kim Namjoon

Sent: 3:06 pm

Subject: Hey good lookin ;)

Hey! 

Just wanted to see how you are! I’m sorry about what happened at lunchtime. That was super petty and uncalled for. I really wanted to ask you out, and I hope I didn’t embarrass you too much by doing it in front of everyone.

I was wondering if you’d like to go out this Friday night after work? Say around 7? If you send me your address, I’ll pick you up.

Let me know!

Xoxo, Joon

You’re sure if you weren’t sitting in your tiny cubicle, you’d be screaming your lungs out.

The second the notification of the email came through, direct from the man of your desires himself, your body froze.

You re-read the message, over and over and over.  

The winky emoji, the xoxo, the nickname ‘joon’. It’s all so much and makes the grin on your face threaten to split your lips in half.

Your fingers press the “FWD” button and you quickly send the message to Jimin, before you stand demurely, attempting to give off an air of professional confidence. You need to talk to Jimin, now.

As soon as you’re out of the eyesight of suspicious coworkers, you bolt down the hallway towards Human Resources. Your high heels click loudly on the tiled floor, but the sound doesn’t even register in your mind. All you can think about is Namjoon, the email, the press of his lips on your hand, the way his smile made you feel as if you could fly.  

The door to HR swings open with your tight grip around the doorknob, and you open your mouth to call to Jimin, the lone employee, when you’re startled by the sight ahead of you.

Jimin sits on the edge of his expansive desk with his arms thrown around Jungkook’s neck and is clearly engaged in a deep, sensual kiss. At the sound of the door opening, they quickly break apart, with matching cherry red blushes on their cheeks and mused hair.

“Oh, shit,” you gasp. 

The men are silent and you can’t help but giggle after a moment passes. “I’ll take it you two made up?”

Jungkook flashes you a dopey grin, one that gives you an answer, while Jimin smirks haughtily.

“Jungkook and I were just discussing, umm… his 401k.”

Jungkook looks at the blonde boy for a moment, confused, before he gets it. “Yeah! Totally. Retirement. Love to t-talk about it?”

You laugh out loud and walk towards the couple.

“I’m sure it was a titillating discussion,” you tease. “I have good news though, if it’s okay to interrupt this retirement planning session.”

Jimin nods and Jungkook rubs at the back of his neck awkwardly. “I guess I should leave?”

“It’s okay,” you smile. “I trust you.”

Jungkook smiles as if he’s just won the lottery. He looks between you and Jimin, face pure and excited like a puppy.

“What’s up?” Jimin asks as he moves to sit down at his desk.

“I forwarded you an email. Read it.”

Jimin nods and logs on to his posh computer, scrolling and clicking before narrowing his eyes and reading.

“Oh, my god.” Jimin’s face is shocked—it's written all over his features. “Namjoon asked you out?!”

Jungkook’s child-like grin turns into one of shock himself. He runs around to stand behind Jimin, eyes seeking over the words of the email.

“Well, hot damn,” Jungkook whistles. “He asked her out.”

Jimin exchanges a look with Jungkook, one that you’re not sure you can read. It quickly slips your mind, however, as you’re more focused on the task at hand.

“Can you come over tonight after work and help me pick out something to wear?” You ask excitedly.

Jimin smiles at you, a touch of sadness in his eyes, before he nods.

“Of course, babe,” he assures. “We’ll make sure you look nice and hot for the date with Mr. Kim.”

“Thank you!” You squeal as you wrap your arms around your best friend. He hugs you back before you scurry out of the office and back to your cubicle, itching to reply to the message.

Jimin sighs as the door to his office closes behind you.

“Kook, please don’t tell me he’s going to break her heart. He’s asking her out to make himself feel better about this, isn’t he?” 

Jungkook slips his hand into Jimin’s and squeezes. 

“I’ll find out, baby.”

Jimin smiles and nods appreciatively at the boy, before leaning up and kissing him.

Jungkook smiles against his lips, and is determined to ensure the young HR specialist never hates him again, even if he has to go behind his hyung’s back to ensure his new boyfriend’s happiness.

Jungkook has one mission now, and that’s ensuring Namjoon takes you on the greatest date known to man.

He grills Jimin with questions about what you like over dinner one night. Jimin finds it endearing that Jungkook is so eager to rectify his mistakes, but he still can’t help but worry that Namjoon is doing this to save face—not because he actually likes you.

“So, what does she like doing?” Jungkook asks as he spins his pasta around his chopsticks idly.

Jimin smiles as he takes a bite of the ramen Jungkook has thoughtfully prepared for their stay-at-home date.  

“I’ve told you already! She’s easy to figure out.” Jimin pats Jungkook’s hand gently. “She loves cooking and baking, working out, daydreaming about Namjoon.” 

“Cooking, hm,” Jungkook looks thoughtful as he takes a bite. “I think Namjoon can work with that. I’ll let him know!”

Jimin tries to hide the anxiety brewing in his stomach. He’s had to plaster on a fake smile for you while you tried on different outfits, wondering which will be the one to finally convince Namjoon he is the one for you. It’s hard to fake it around his boyfriend, too—but something tugs in his stomach that flares the cynical side of him.

Namjoon went from not knowing of your existence, to watching you get publicly embarrassed in a matter of minutes. While Namjoon isn’t a terrible guy, Jimin knows he doesn’t like anything to tarnish the gentleman reputation he’s built in the office. And as much as Jimin likes him, and surely likes his friend Jungkook, he can’t help but feel skeptical.

Jungkook hurriedly pulls out his phone and types away, letting his elder friend know of what he’s found out. Jimin swallows his food, and his pride, and hopes to god his growing cynicism is wrong.

Friday comes slower than you’d like. You wake up every day during the week, one day closer, and your eagerness hits peak levels. Namjoon sees you in the hallways during the week and winks at you, hands shoved in his tight slacks that make you salivate.  

He emails you again Thursday afternoon, confirming things and getting your address. You reply in nanoseconds, uncaring how overeager you come off. 

By the time your alarm clock rings on Friday morning, you’ve already been awake for 4 hours.

All you can do is daydream about the date, the way his hand fits into yours, the warmth of his eyes when he smiles at you.

It’s what fuels you through work.

You hope to god the numbers you’re attempting to work during the day come out right, because your mind is elsewhere for more than most of the day. There isn’t enough coffee in the world, but also your body feels as if you’ve overdosed on caffeine already.

The clock eeks towards 5:00 pm and you’re bolting out the door at 4:56 to head home and get ready for your date.

Jimin attempts to meet you before you leave, but your desk is cold and empty by the time he gets there.  

He sighs and heads back towards his office to gather his things, waving bye to various coworkers as they file out of the corporate building.

He turns the corner towards his office but stops in his tracks as he sees Namjoon’s back to him, phone pressed to his ear.

“Baby, I’ll come over later tonight, okay?” Namjoon speaks into the phone.

Jimin feels his heart fall into the pit of his stomach. He retreats and hides behind a wall, ear carefully peeled to listen to the tall man’s conversation.

“I’m going on this date with that chick from work,” he sighs. “It won’t last more than a few hours. Poor girl has a crush on me and you know the usual assholes won’t leave her alone.”

Jimin bites his lip and clenches his fist. Namjoon thinks he means well, but he knows his suspicions have been confirmed, and he’s torn inside. He wants to tell you, to warn you not to get too invested in the man, but he also has no interest in popping the bubble you’ve been in since the day he asked you out.

Jimin lets it simmer for now. He decides he’ll monitor Namjoon and cut things off if it appears the man strings you along for fun.

Namjoon finishes his phone call with a promise to see whoever is on the other end of the phone later that night, and Jimin quickly pulls out his phone and fakes a conversation with no one when he hears the man approach.

“Oh, Kookie,” Jimin giggles, leaning against the wall casually. “I can’t wait to see you tonight, either, babe.”

Namjoon walks towards Jimin and makes eye contact with the HR specialist.

“Bye, Kook! See you tonight, baby.” Jimin finishes up the fake phone call as Namjoon arrives next to him, and he plasters on his best fake smile.

“Congrats on you and Jungkook,” he speaks sincerely.

Jimin hates how nice he is, hates that he’s a nice guy who gets too wrapped up in his own good looks and reputation.

“Thanks, Namjoon,” Jimin smiles uneasily. “You too! Have fun on your date tonight.”

Namjoon’s face lights up and Jimin desperately wishes he could go back in time to 30 seconds ago, before he heard the conversation, and believe that Namjoon truly wanted to date you.

“Thanks, should be fun, huh?” He winks and nudges Jimin, before he waves a goodbye and continues out the door.

Jimin pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials the number of his boyfriend.

“Hey, baby. We’ve got a problem.”

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