#also not the six slander leave them alone it's fun!
Text
—out of the blue. (m)
⟶ pairing: jungkook x reader
⟶ genre: youtuber/gamer!jungkook + fluff / smut
⟶ words: 5,204
⟶ rating: 18+
⟶ summary: catching your boyfriend bleaching and dyeing his hair for a livestream is definitely not what you expected — but it certainly has its perks.
⟶ warnings: established relationship, some attempt at humour, .2 seconds of sort of sub jungkook (you just like seeing him on his knees), you call jungkook a good boy, shower sex, hair pulling, oral sex, face riding, standing sex, breast play, cum eating, doggy style, unprotected sex, creampie
⟶ note: because blue haired jungkook has me feeling all sorts of things. also dedicating this to the lovely ryen @kithtaehyung because blue haired jungkook is getting her too and i hope this helps!! and thank you to the wonderful @gamerkooks and @stanrandomthings for always giving me inspiration for gamer jungkook <3
“What the hell are you doing?”
Jungkook has less than a second to react when he hears you bursting through the door of his bedroom, a guilty expression plastered on his face as if you’ve caught him in the midst of a much worse act than what he’s already currently doing ━ but the flustered scowl deepening your countenance is enough for him to certainly feel that way, because how else is he supposed to casually explain why he’s currently sitting shirtless in front of a camera?
Admittedly, the sight is odd enough, and there’s a split moment where your incredulous look is enough to make him feel as if he’s wronged you, and your six month long relationship with him, entirely before he remembers that he didn’t actually do anything wrong like cheat on you, but is actually just trying to dye his hair.
He’s sat in his gaming chair, camera and lights set up around him, and the monitor of his desktop all recording his face to the hundreds of thousands of viewers currently watching his livestream. He had told you well in advance about his aim to do a twenty-four hour live broadcast for his subscribers to both raise money for a donation and to countdown to his next subscriber milestone with the help of his friends ━ and had even asked you to help him plan the event, discussing it animatedly with you for the past month on various occasions ━ but mainly just because Jungkook is crazy enough to sit through a twenty-four hour stream and call it fun.
You had known most of how the entirety of the day would go. Starting from noon the previous day to now, almost an hour before the stream ends, thus far he’s done various gameplays from Minecraft to Overwatch to Among Us simultaneously with his friends who had offered to marathon with him the twenty-four hour event; had a period of time in which Jimin and Taehyung were over and cramped in his room to answer questions and talk to viewers but mostly just to create absolute chaos. You had been there for most of it, though you’re still trying to figure out if it’s a blessing or a curse that you were suckered into paying rent for your three bedroom apartment by Taehyung more than a year ago, and subsequently falling madly in love with Jungkook and forcing you to aid in his antics. You’ve been in a handful of his videos before, appearing in Twitch and YouTube streams, and in the background of vlogs in his channel and the channels belonging to the other boys; and, on that day for Jungkook’s twenty-four hour event, you had joined him at the start before being dragged away for work and then tried to pull an all-nighter with him until you crashed on the couch in the living room, and checking in on him occasionally to give him food and water and to just generally make sure your boyfriend isn’t dead.
Now, with the remaining final hour dwindling down, you had been in your room trying to finish last minute essay writing for school, with your phone propped up on your desk and Jungkook’s livestream playing as background noise to your studying. One minute, he had been playing a round of Among Us, and the next, when you had glanced up, he had the bottle in hand and the detrimental blue dye coating his hair in slick globs. It wouldn’t have been so shocking, had you not seen Jungkook an hour ago when he had his natural dark hair still, and now he had somehow managed to sneak in bleaching his hair in the time you had left him. Maybe it was your fault for not catching it sooner, if only because you had sheepishly taken a small nap amidst your studying only to wake up to a nightmare.
Which is where that leaves you currently, dishevelled demeanour standing at the threshold of his door after chasing over to his room, watching as Taehyung helps Jungkook sufficiently ruin his beautiful hair which you love so much.
“Uh… Dyeing my hair?” Jungkook finally answers, dumbfounded. He’s fortunate he had pulled off his shirt to avoid getting hair dye on it, an old towel now draped around his shoulders to catch any excess mess. He adds brightly, “We asked for suggestions on how to end the stream and someone said I should dye my hair, so Tae got the stuff.”
“You bleached your own hair?” You retort, exasperated. “When the hell did all this happen? I’ve been next door to you the whole time! What if your hair falls out? You should’ve gotten a professional to do it, not Tae━”
Taehyung looks inexplicably offended by your slandering remarks on his (lack of) hair styling skills, retorting with, “Yo, what the━?”
Jungkook blinks, as if just being made aware of what he’s actually doing.
“My hair’s gonna fall out?” he gaps. “Guys, what the hell? Why’d no one tell me?”
He looks from you to Taehyung then over at the comments on his livestream which are currently flooding with the sole topic of you. His eyes snag the first few that appear to him in the frenzied influx of words:
uh oh jungkook’s sleeping on the floor tonight
oh shit run bro
f in the chat for jk’s hair
get him y/n!!!!
“Dude, she’s just being dramatic,” Taehyung waves you off. He ducks out of the way when you reach out to Jungkook’s bed for a pillow and chuck it at the older boy’s head.
“And when he’s bald, then what━”
“No!” A helpless Jungkook exclaims suddenly. He gestures wildly to the stream, “Don’t give them ideas. The edits are gonna start pouring in.”
“Jeon, look, it’s too late to go back now,” Taehyung says. “You’ve got half your head covered in dye and three minutes to go with the stream. How bad can it be?”
A groveling sigh eclipses your lips as you push yourself forward. “Then at least let me help before you ruin it completely.”
Jungkook’s fortunate, to say the least, though he’s left wondering if you’re truly upset with him.
He finishes the countdown to the end of his twenty-four hour stream with you and Taehyung putting the last remaining globs of dye on his hair, a heartfelt goodbye to his viewers who marathoned the stream with him, and a promise to update them on the status of his hair when he washes the dye out.
And, just as soon as he’s shut his camera off, the mundane world returns to him.
It’s no longer millions of anonymous and faceless viewers watching him from the other side of their screens in the tiny bubble that is his room, but just you and Taehyung and the older boy’s frisky little Pomeranian dog and the threat of a wallowing regret as Jungkook thinks to himself, what the hell did he truly just do to his hair?
At some point, Taehyung retreats to his girlfriend’s house taking Yeontan with him, leaving you alone with Jungkook and he basks in the sudden cozy quiet after twenty-four hours of madness as the adrenaline rush begins to fade and mellow out. Back aching, joints cracking and popping as he stretches and moves, and eyes burning in the similar way they do from having stared at a screen for too long, but tenfold, he craves nothing more than to find your sweet and comforting touch to end such a long day.
He finds you in the living room already scrolling through your phone and your Twitter feed to read and marvel at all the comments and memes made by his viewers during his stream and his heart threatens to burst through his chest because you’ve always been so supportive of him and his fans, and they’ve always adored you and your endless interactions with them. So, surely, you can’t be mad at him for bleaching and dyeing his hair. Right?
As his arms come to wrap around you from behind, face nuzzling in the crook of your neck, he hears you bemoan, “You look like a Smurf came on your head.”
Wrong.
Well, not entirely, he guesses. You do lean into his chest, practically melting against him. A sluggish grin tugs at his lips and, instead, he chooses to ask, “Shower with me?”
“Aren’t you tired, Koo?”
“Baby,” he deadpans, and your heart flutters just a little bit, “by this point, I’m running solely on Red Bull and coffee that I’m positive I could fight the gods with my bare hands and win. In fact, I’ve had so much caffeine that I’m fairly certain I’ve ascended to the astral plane. Besides, I need to wash this dye out, and I could use some help. Sleep can wait.”
“Help,” You snort. “You’re such a liar. I already know what you want.”
“To spend time with my beautiful girlfriend? You’re right.”
“I’m not sucking your dick.”
He pulls his head back to look at you. Though he tries to look offended, there’s the tiniest of smirks on his face. “Wasn’t gonna ask you!”
You turn to properly face him in his arms and shoot him a dubious glance. He leans down to press a chilling kiss to your jaw, then nudges his nose against you in the same spot so that you’ll move your head. You do so, despite your prior scolding, and let him kiss the underside of your jaw down to your neck.
“Okay, fine,” You huff finally.
You relent, miraculously, but Jungkook had already guessed you would the moment he had found you in the living room and he couldn’t be happier.
He cherishes the moments alone with you, has come to know them well as he falls into a comfortable routine with you away from prying eyes over the last few months. Because sometimes, as he comes to learn, it’s hard to establish a relationship when his job requires him to be in the spotlight often. What is authentic and what is simply fabricated for views is difficult to discern, and yet you’re patient with him. Not everything to him is money and views and numbers, or what his next big plan is, or how you could potentially help him in some way (despite knowing that any video featuring you seems to skyrocket his views and land his videos on the trending page of YouTube more often than not because he knows everyone loves you more than him). You know when he’s his online persona and when he’s simply just Jungkook, and while there’s hardly any difference between the two, his online personality surely has to maintain a level of privacy and happiness that may not always be true.
At least with you, he can just be himself. He can finally be at ease.
Showering together is just one of the many acts of normalcy he cherishes with you. So, he turns on the shower and lets the bathroom get all warm and balmy as you undress. He’s the first one inside, hissing in delight as he lets the water run over his sore muscles, washing out the dye in his hair firstly so as not to get it on you and fortunately not making too much of a mess of blue dye in the tub. You’ve joined him in an instant when he’s nearly done, squeezing into the space in front of him as you shut the glass door behind you, the pane already beginning to fog and slick with droplets of condensation. He pulls you into him once more, nestling his chin on your shoulder as his hands come to wrap around you. They slide across your front, all wet and soapy, briefly gliding across your breasts, palms brushing against your nipples before traveling down to your navel.
“Congrats, baby,” You coo gently. “Twenty-four hours.”
He murmurs into your hair, “Missed you loads though.”
You turn to look at him finally, and it’s hard not to stare. Your eyes land firstly on his abdomen and the toned muscles there, trailing up to his arm and the pretty tattoos that decorate every inch of his skin, to his soft pink lips and his big eyes. Then, there’s the matter of his hair. The water has done most of the work in washing out the dye from his hair, now falling across his forehead and into his eyes and cheekbones, and it’s only then that you fully register the dye has worked as you struggle to find any remnants of his once-ebony-then-blonde locks. The blue hair is an obvious stark contrast to his natural hair and, you think, it is pretty, accentuating his radiant skin and making his eyes pop.
“I didn’t think you were actually serious all those times you said you wanted to change your hair.” Your lips are pursed as you survey him now, your fingers twirling a strand of his tresses around and around as you inspect it.
He smiles, catching your hand and pressing a quick peck to your knuckles. “Neither did I,” he admits sheepishly. “It sort of just happened.”
You pout. “I’m gonna miss your natural hair.”
“Do you really hate it blue?”
“I don’t hate it. Was more scared you’d ruin your pretty hair and make it all fall out.”
At this, Jungkook flashes you a cheeky smile. He holds his head a little higher. “So you still think my hair is pretty?”
“I think you’re a dork,” You clarify. “And, aside from the fact you almost gave me a heart attack, I’d say the blue is so pretty. Beyond pretty. Kinda hot, if I’m being honest.”
Because you’re not really mad, but it’s fun just to tease Jungkook and see his reactions. At the very least, he can sense this, as it’s apparent with the way his smile stretches even wider on his face.
“Hot, huh?”
“Mhm. But you didn’t hear that from me.”
He feigns a look of mock hurt. “Oh no. You must be really mad. Want me to make it up to you?”
“How are you gonna do that?”
“Well, what do you want from me?”
You take a moment to think it over, but the answer is already obvious enough. It’s one that even he knows, and one that has won you over the moment Jungkook was freed from his stream. You hum aloud, “You, on your knees, head between my legs, like a good boy. Think I can get a better viewpoint of your hair from down there anyway before I judge it.”
“Like a good boy?” A dark smirk tugs at his face. “So now who’s the needy one?”
He lowers his head so that he’s leaving a trail of sloppy wet kisses down your neck to your collarbones. As you let yourself get carried away for a moment, you wrap your arm around his neck, pulling him backwards until you’re pressed up against the glass door. He ducks even lower, kissing just above your left breast and then catching your nipple between his teeth. You swallow thickly, rubbing your thighs together, reminding yourself to respond to him.
“It’s not my fault when you were busy for the past day,” You pout. “And the blue hair really is sexy.”
“Aha!” he straightens up in front of you suddenly, a crooked smug smile on his face. “So I’m not just hot. I’m sexy.”
“You’re literally always sexy. And beautiful too. It’s almost unfair.”
“That’s even better.”
You tug your fingers at his damp locks. When you speak, your voice is a mix between urgency and a whine. “Jungkook. I could’ve already gotten off with my hand at this point.”
“Ouch, feisty!” He pokes his fingers at your sides. Then, nipping a little more firmly on the soft skin of your breast, murmurs huskily, “Alright, alright. But only if you call me a good boy again.”
Part of him is taunting you, but there’s a small sliver of intrigue that makes the thought in his head and the pretty words on your tongue excite him to no end.
Still, you choose to entertain him, maybe a little drowsily and entirely consumed by him, “I will if you let me ride your face.”
A rumble of a chuckle resonates from him. You find him on his knees in the next moment, wedging himself between your thighs. He nudges one of your legs and you follow the wordless command, hitching one thigh over his shoulder as you settle back against the glass door of the shower. He kisses at your hips as he dips his head lower and lower to where you want him, before swiping his tongue at your cunt, tasting all of you at once.
“Mmm, Koo━” A soft whimper sounds from you, making his head swim.
He wastes no time in lapping at your folds, tongue delving into you deeper and deeper as he cranes his neck. The wetness that pools between your legs and on the tip of his tongue is a sticky mess that he basks in just a little longer.
“Fuck,” he groans into your pussy, “you taste so fucking good. Missed this so much.”
His hands are big as they come to hold you close, cradling your ass, your thighs, your hips, anything to pull you into him while simultaneously pushing your thighs further apart.
You manage to find your voice and quip weakly, “Missed me or having your head between my legs?”
“You, definitely,” he murmurs. He busies himself by reaching out with his thumb to press circles against your clit. Your mouth falls open in a silent moan, hips rutting into his face. “All of you.”
“Jungkook━ Fuck━”
He burrows further into you, humming in response. His nose brushes against your clit, the muscle of his tongue a pleasant wet that makes you warm all over. You give another experimental swivel of your hips, grinding against his tongue just right. He pinches at your hips as if to probe you onward, and then you do it again, and again, desperately rocking your hips back and forth against him. Your fingers reach out to grab a fistful of his hair, clutching it so tightly he hisses. But you’re right. The blue locks look dazzling between your legs, being pulled by your hands as you push him further into you.
His eyes meet yours from below your waist, hooded and idle, enjoying the view as you squirm and writhe above him, shamelessly riding his face. Grinding against his chin, nose, and tongue, the slick wetness you leave behind glistens on his skin.
“Ah, Koo━” You cry out. “Fuck, I’m gonna━!”
Your orgasm hits you violently, sending you keeling. Your hips continue with reckless abandon, and Jungkook presses his finger against your clit a little harder, a little faster. The abrupt gushing warmth between your thighs sends your mind spinning, as the steam from the shower and your panting breaths begin to fog the bathroom. When your hips begin to slow, Jungkook laps at the rest of your leaking core before pulling away with a grin brandishing his shimmering face. He lets you pull him up eagerly, clumsy hands fumbling to hold either side of his face as you tug at him.
“God, you’re so hot, babe,” he sighs wistfully, smothering your lips with his for an all too chaste kiss, before leaning in once more to nibble at your lower lip.
“Wanna feel you, Koo,” You prompt urgently. “Want you in me.”
Jungkook hastens to comply, his hands falling to your waist. “Go on, then. Turn around for me.”
You don’t need to be told twice. You spin so that you’re facing the glass sliding door, your back to him. You watch him over your shoulder, momentarily admiring his well built stature, the tattoos that ink his body, and the water that shimmers on his skin. He has to push his wet hair up and away when it falls across his forehead and then he reaches down to grasp at his length, grip tight around his shaft so that he can pump himself sluggishly a few short times. It’s almost painful to watch him jerk himself off in front of you, the tip a burning red and glistening. He catches you staring and decides to catch you off guard when he grabs a hold of your hips with one hand. He yanks you towards him, your ass pressed firmly against his hips, making you jump from the startle, and grins when you look back at him.
Then, ever so slowly, he runs the length of his cock along your folds. Before you can brace yourself for the overwhelming rush of pleasure, he’s sliding his cock past your folds, burrowing into you deep. He curses behind you, his other hand flying out to steady himself by digging into your hip.
“Fffuck. Shit.” He dips his head so that his cheek is resting against your shoulder and sputters for air. “Jesus, fuck━ Been dying to feel you all day.”
He fits so snugly in you, so perfectly, just like always and you take him so well, coaxed by your own arousal. He ruts his hips forward into yours and you nearly fall forward before catching yourself by pressing your palms to the glass. Then, he’s grinding against you, small and precise thrusts that roll into your hips.
“Mmm, Jungkook,” you choke out. “You feel so━ So good.”
“Ah, shit,” he hisses. “Wanna wreck you so bad.”
He angles his chest a little more, pummels his dick into you in such a way that he’s hitting a different spot in you. His eyes stay fixated on the soft, round flesh of your ass and the way his cock slips so easily into you, brows screwed in concentration, jaw clenched. The slight bounce of your ass each time he rolls his hips firmly against you, the way you ricochet forward each time in tandem with his moves. You bow your head, pressing your temple against the glass door now tinted with condensation, only marked up by the imprints of your fingers grasping at anything. It’s almost sweltering hot in the shower now but you both pay no mind to it. He fucks into you with such languid, steady strides, cock beginning to throb and twitch in anticipation. You feel so wet, such a pitiless mess between your thighs already that it makes him growl.
“H-Harder,” You mewl. “Oh, Koo━”
He almost slips behind you in his eagerness to obey, awakening something animalistic in him, a yearning to just release all the tension in his core. This time, he adapts a measured pace, forceful thrusts that have you crying out in delight each time. One hand reaches up to grip at your shoulder to steady himself while his other slithers around your front to grasp at your breasts, all wet and supple, pinching at your nipples.
“So good,” he moans, pressing sloppy kisses just below your ear. His breath is hot as he pants behind you, sending tingles down your spine. “Fuck━”
His voice is cut off by a whine, hips bucking forward in an unsolicited manner as he feels his high drawing near. You lean your head onto his shoulder, stretching your arm out so that you can tug desperately at his hair. It’s a silent, simple command, but it’s one that he immediately understands even without you speaking.
“Wanna feel you━” You whimper. “Wanna see you.”
Jungkook nearly slips as he fumbles to pull out of you, hissing at the loss of warmth and friction. As soon as you’ve turned to face him, he wastes no time in closing the distance between you. He pushes his leaking cock past your folds once more and continues at the same pace as if he had never even stopped to begin with.
“Fuck,” he whines. “Not gonna last━”
You wrap your arms around his neck, drawing him even closer to you, as he presses you against the glass. He hitches one of your thighs around his waist, spreading your legs just wide enough to hit a certain spot that has both of you crying out. You’re clinging so tightly to him, fingers digging harshly into his skin in an attempt to alleviate the building pressure you feel. He knows you’ve almost reached your end when you resort to a gasping, moaning mess, writhing beneath his broad stature.
“Close, baby?” he hums.
You open your mouth to respond but can only muster a whimper. His pace treads over to heedlessly frantic, the sound of skin against skin and the lewd wetness filling the shower. Despite his hips pounding into yours so harshly, his fingers flutter so delicately under your chin, grasping it and moving your head just enough so that you’re facing him.
“Lemme see you,” he grunts. “Wanna watch you when you cum all over my cock. Always so pretty.”
“I━ I’m━ Fuck, Koo━”
But you can’t finish your thought.
You keep your gaze fixated on Jungkook’s, however exhausted and weary it may be. Your lashes flutter, brows knit together, and you suck your lower lip between your teeth, biting so hard Jungkook’s certain you’ll bruise it. Another few hard thrusts and then you’re reaching your high, overcome by such an intense burning that you can’t help but look away out of instinct. You cry his name, face contorting in pure pleasure, and chest arching to meet his. You’re clenching so tightly around him has him sputtering for air, nearly collapsing entirely against you. You’re near dripping around his cock which only means he almost slips from you with each draw of his hips that he makes. It’s why he sloppily rocks his hips into yours, desperate to reach his own high as well.
When you return to your senses, blinking away your blurry vision, you can make out Jungkook cooing into your ear, “That’s it, baby. Doing so well.”
You meet his gaze once more, only this time you’re perhaps even more tired. Hooded eyes watch him, silently probing him to his climax. He comes tumbling towards it, a few more short thrusts of his hips and, finally, he’s there. He slams his hips up into yours one final time, crying out, and then he’s releasing into you in an overwhelming abrupt gush. Only he can’t quite enjoy it because, out of genuine accident and driven by impatience to just get off, the last jerk of his hips hits you a little too hard.
It’s what causes you to slip backward and he, so lost in his own reverie, hardly has a proper grip on you or where he’s standing. When you lose your footing beneath you, slipping on the wet porcelain of the tub, and comes crashing down, he’s brought along with you. “Oh, fuck━!”
The both of you yelp from the surprise, your hands flailing out to brace yourself for the fall.
Fortunately, you land on him when you reach the bottom of the tub, courtesy of him grabbing onto you last second so that he can soften the blow upon impact.
Unfortunately, the breath is knocked out of him from the startle and from the sudden added weight of you on top of him with no warning.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” he groans.
“In hindsight,” You wince as you shift your weight above him, “maybe having sex in the shower again wasn’t the greatest idea. Remember last time when we knocked the shower curtain down and I had to get stitches on my elbow? It’s why we got the glass door installed, and then we had to lie to Tae about it.”
“Ugh, don’t remind me.” He tilts his head back, rubbing a hand over his face. Then, he flashes you an all too charming smirk. “Was kinda worth it though.”
You giggle, sounding so sweet and angelic, even despite the way his cum still leaks from you. Somewhere in the fall, his dick had slipped from you and now lays softening on his stomach which, really, is probably the worst part of the accident to him. He already misses the warmth of you wrapped around him, your mingling cum a dirty mess around him. You prop yourself up on his chest with your palms, but before you can even think to respond, you notice something out of the corner of your eye.
A small mass of fur in the shape of little Yeontan has just poked his head through the crack in the door, oblivious to you and Jungkook’s compromising position. And then, shortly following behind him, is his equally oblivious owner who must have forgotten something in the apartment to bring him back so suddenly.
“Tannie, get back here━ We gotta go━ Oh, Jesus, what the fuck?” Taehyung appears at the door for a millisecond before noticing the situation he’s just stumbled upon. Thankfully, he acts fast, and clamps a hand over his tainted eyes, clumsily scooping up Yeontan in his other hand. “Can you guys please stop fucking all over this damn apartment? My son’s eyes are too pure for this!”
And then he’s retreating, but not before bumping blindly into the doorframe, grumbling along the way. It’s silent for a moment as you and Jungkook gawk at one another; then you hear Taehyung leave the apartment once more, and the both of you dissolve into a fit of unabashed laughter.
“Are you okay?” You ask once you’ve calmed down enough as he reaches out to shut the shower off. You plant a kiss in your boyfriend’s hair. “You hit your head coming down.”
Jungkook’s heart swells at your gentle touches and smiles. “I’m fine,” he promises brightly. “You?”
“Well, you did just thoroughly fuck me, so━” You shrug innocently. “I’m kinda still too giddy to even care.”
“I’m gonna make it up to you,” he says. “For almost giving you a heart attack with my hair and for almost putting you in the emergency room again just now.”
The mention of his hair draws your attention to it once more. It’s not as wet as before, damp azure waves falling into his eyes that you brush away gingerly.
“Yeah,” You snort, “but I’ve decided I like your hair. Like, really like it.”
“Yeah?” he grins wide. “What was the deciding factor?”
You pause, as if to think for a moment. Exhaustion riddles your body and you know sleeping curled up next to Jungkook is nearing your future, but for now you let yourself entertain the last remnants of whatever lewd thoughts are still on yours and his minds before they fizzle away completely. You can’t help yourself anyway. The blue really is nice.
“Definitely the view of you eating me out,” You say. “And can’t forget how pretty it looks when I’m pulling at your hair.”
“Say no more,” he beams. “Then I’ll make it up to you by making you cum on my tongue again and again and again.”
The last thing he hears before he grabs at your cheek to softly pull you down to him for one last kiss, slow and ardent, is a bubbly giggle from you that delights him to no end.
“That’s a good boy.”
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#btsbookclub#bangtanhq#btscreatorscorner#jungkook#jungkook smut#jungkook fluff#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you#jungkook x y/n#bts#bts smut#bts scenarios#jungkook scenarios#bts fluff#jungkook imagine#jeongguk smut#jeon jeongguk smut#jeon jeongguk fluff#jeon jungkook smut#bangtan smut#bangtan#bts fanfic#bts oneshots#FINALLY POSTED SOMETHING YEEHAW#was gonna call this 'blue is sus' like among us but thankfully decided against it
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A Ball to Remember - My Princess Pt. 12
*Zendaya x Reader
*Summary: At long last, the Ball is being held in hope that Prince Thomas finds a potential match.
*Warnings: Swearing, anxiety, Kardashian/Jenner slander. Let me know if I missed anything!
*A/N: Outfits are based off of Met Gala 2018 looks for all the celebrities I name drop lmao. It’s fitting since Zendaya’s Met Gala 2018 look inspired this entire thing. Also I seriously fell in love with the dress inspiration for these chapters. Next chapter may have a little smut piece just for fun :)
Tip Jar
Part One || Part Two || Part Three || Part Four || Part Five || Part Six || Part Seven || Part Eight || Part Nine || Part Ten || Part Eleven || Part Twelve
Dress Inspiration 1 || Dress Inspiration 2
**********
At long last, the night of the ball had finally arrived. The remaining foreign royals had been arriving throughout the day, and the castle was a mess. Different handmaidens and servants were running through the halls, helping with last minute decorating, fetching thing for their employers, anything that would need to be done in the hours leading up to the beginning of the ball. The other royals would be announced as they arrived to the ball, but you were on a schedule. You and Prince Thomas were to be announced last, so you would have a bit more time to get ready than the others.
Zendaya was by your side for most of the day as you were shuttled from appointment to appointment in preparation for the night. She made sure that you weren’t getting too overwhelmed with all the activity that was going on, sneaking you snacks and water throughout the day as you went about your business. You’d tried to set it up so you’d be put into your dress first and then sent to hair and makeup, but for some reason (that the handmaidens had described as ‘wanting you to get the full effect’), you were first sent to makeup, then hair, and then getting put in your dress.
Every step of the process, your handmaidens were gushing over your transformation into a properly formal Princess. You would look to Zendaya for help, but all she could do was smile and shrug her shoulders. Getting your hair and makeup done took a few hours on their own, and then there was the whole matter of getting you into your dress. Corsets, hoop skirts, you were convinced they were all torture devices in their own right (even though you had to admit your waist looked good in the corset). When your handmaidens put the dress on you, however, you understood what they meant about letting you get the full effect.
With your hair pulled back and up, a few pieces framing your face, your makeup light but still giving the right amount of a dramatic look, you already could see things coming together. But then there was your dress - the bodice a navy blue with stars and moons trailing down your sternum, stopping just shy of your navel, the skirt a deeper navy closer to black, the two pieces sewn together with stars accenting your hips.
“Wow,” you gasped, unable to help the little swish of the skirt you just had to do. You looked over at Zendaya, smile bright. “Z, look!”
“I see, my Princess. You look great.” That hint of fondness was there in her eyes and her smile, letting you know that she would tell you the true extent of her approval when the two of you were in somewhat privacy.
“You still have the cape, Princess!” One of your handmaidens reminded you as the other two brought forward the exact piece she was talking about. They secured it around your shoulders, one securing the front clasp while the others worked about making sure it fell perfectly around you. You suddenly understood the seamstress’s frustrations about the detailing she would have to do on the cape, small and large stars spanning pretty much the whole of the cape. You would have to give the seamstress your profuse thanks after the ball was over.
“I think I’m in love,” you said, now doing a full spin to get the full effect. The detailing sparkled underneath the lights, and you could only imagine how it’d look in the candlelight of the ballroom at night. “This is amazing.”
“And to think you didn’t want to go to your fittings,” Zendaya teased. You just looked back at her, pouting.
“Right, we just need to go get your heels and then you’ll be ready,” one of your handmaidens said, placing a hand on your shoulder. “You really do look amazing, Princess. You’ve grown to be a fine young woman and the land of Xerin will do well to have you as their queen.”
You were thrown back into the reality of the situation. You weren’t just dressing up in a pretty gown for a ball that was being thrown for no reason, no. You were dressed up for a ball that was acting as your engagement announcement, while you were trying to get your fiance to put his attention towards another eligible princess. You gave the handmaiden a small smile, trying not to let your sudden wave of sadness overtake you. “Thank you. I’m glad to have done you well as your Princess.”
The handmaidens left the room for a few minutes to retrieve the heels, and Zendaya was immediately at your side. She took your hand in hers, rubbing her thumb over the back of your hand. “What’s wrong? What’re you thinking about?”
“What if tonight doesn’t work out? I want to stay here with my people, with you,” you admitted, your breathing starting to pick up as you began to overthink things.
“If it doesn’t work out, then we find another way. Even if I have to go to Xerin with you.” You looked up at Zendaya with wide eyes. You’d never discussed that, and you would never make her leave her home for a foreign land just to follow you.
“You would do that?”
“I would, my Princess. I want to be with you for the rest of my life,” she admitted, looking away for just a second. You could tell she was a little embarrassed at the admission, but it was out there.
“I want to be with you for the rest of my life as well,” you told her. “Can I have a kiss?”
“I wouldn’t want to ruin your lipstick.”
“Please?” Zendaya rolled her eyes but gave in, pressing a quick kiss to your lips. It was enough to satisfy you for now, but you’d be asking for more kisses later when you were alone. “I love you.”
“I love you too.” Zendaya stepped back, releasing your hand just as the handmaidens returned.
“Princess, we’re going to need you to sit while we put these on,” one of them directed you as another pulled up a chair.
“I need to get ready for the ball as well. My replacement will be here soon,” Zendaya told you as you sat down.
“Lady Zendaya, are you going to be attending as a guest or on duty?” the third handmaiden asked.
“A little bit of both,” Zendaya said with a small smile. “I have duty at the beginning of the night, but after shift change I’m welcome to stay at the ball.”
“Per the Princess’s request, I assume,” the handmaiden teased, looking down at you. You looked away, trying to ignore the heat rising in your face. Sure, she was right, but she didn’t have to call you out like that. “Relax, Princess. It’s nice that you want your friend to enjoy the night as well.”
“Right, yes,” you trailed off, lifting your foot for the handmaiden to slip on the heel. She secured it, repeating the same process for the next heel. Zendaya was the one to help you stand, and you were pleasantly surprised at your newfound height. “Zendaya, I’m almost as tall as you now.”
Zendaya rolled her eyes. “You wish. I’ll see you later.”
Sure enough, as she finished her sentence, there was a knock at the door. She went to answer it, and her replacement was there. Zendaya gave you a nod before leaving the room, leaving you to the whims of your handmaidens. Now that they didn’t have to do anything else to get you ready - only waiting for someone to retrieve you to be announced - the handmaidens went about their gossip. They were talking about people they’d seen arriving - royal families, princesses accompanied by other nobles - just enamoured by the glitz and glam of all these people coming into the castle at once.
“The High Priestess pulled out all the stops for the guest list, I wonder how she managed to convince everyone who came.”
“It’s because she’s the High Priestess. Do you know anyone who could say no to Rihanna?” You were amused at their conversation, knowing how right they were. There were two people you could never say no to - excluding your parents - and that was Rihanna and Zendaya. Rihanna just had that kind of personality that you wanted to go along with her plans.
“You’re not wrong there. Princess, do you have plans with the Prince after the ball?” The little smile the handmaiden gave you made it obvious what kind of plans she was thinking of. You could feel your face getting hot at just the implication.
“No! I don’t know what you mean,” you mumbled, trying to ignore the heat in your cheeks.
“But you’re being formally announced tonight, aren’t you guys going to celebrate?”
“You should know the Princess isn’t like that, we haven’t even heard anything about them holding hands,” the oldest handmaiden said. “Perhaps they’re more low-key than we’d hoped.”
“He’s a handsome young man, you could have done worse. Enjoy your youth. Perhaps the ball will provide the right circumstances for the two of you.”
“Perhaps,” you agreed, knowing fully well you were lying. You just hoped the Prince would find someone else to suit his fancy. Before the handmaidens could go any further into their prying, a knock on the door saved you yet again. Instead of Zendaya, as you’d been hoping, Rihanna stood there in her High Priestess formal garb.
“(Y/n), they’re ready for you in the holding room. Most of the others have been announced already,” she told you. “Lady Zendaya and Prince Thomas are already waiting for you there.”
“Thank you,” you told her. The handmaidens helped you up, leading you over to Rihanna. Before leaving, you turned to them. “Thank you for all your help this evening. I greatly appreciate everything you’ve done for me.”
“We’re more than glad to help you. Enjoy your night.” With that, Rihanna led you out of the room and down the hall.
“Look at you! You look like a proper Princess now,” Rihanna gushed as the two of you walked. “Wow, the seamstress really outdid herself. It’s amazing what she’s done. And look at your cape! Amazing.”
“And yourself? I always forget how amazing the formal garb looks on you,” you complimented right back. Rihanna just waved off your compliment.
“Zendaya’s already seen you, right? What was her reaction?”
“She couldn’t really have a huge one seeing as we were with my handmaidens, but she did compliment me,” you said, looking away with a slight blush.
Rihanna sighed but looked down at you with a smile. “Young love is so cute. Anyways, after you’re announced, find me and I’ll point out our notable visitors.”
“Thank you for all of this, Rihanna. I know it was a lot of work for you.”
“Shush, party planning’s fun,” she said, opening the door for you. Immediately you saw Zendaya there in her formal armor. A couple other guards were stationed around the room - understandable since there were two heirs to the throne to be held there - and then you saw Prince Thomas and Harrison. Prince Thomas had his hand held over the bottom of his face, doing nothing to hide how red his face was.
“He thinks you look great, Princess!” Harrison called out with a smug little smile. Prince Thomas smacked Harrison’s arm, but it did nothing to faze him.
“Thank you,” you said with a laugh. “Though I don’t know if I should thank you or Prince Thomas.”
“Either works,” Harrison said. You went to join Zendaya at her side, highly amused by the two men still bickering.
“See? You look amazing,” Zendaya whispered, using the lessened height difference to her advantage. When you looked up at her, you saw her smug little smile at your flustered state.
“Lady Zendaya, how’s this gonna work? I know they’re gonna be announced together, but what about us?” Harrison asked, dragging the Prince with him.
“Well, you have a choice. You could be announced on your own, or you could walk behind them with me and not be announced,” she told him. “It’s a safety thing that I watch their backs.”
“Alright, so either announce to everyone that I’m single or just relax,” Harrison said. “I’m fine walking with you.”
“Lady Zendaya, it’s time,” one of the guards said. She nodded before looking at you and the Prince.
“Are you guys ready?” You nodded, and despite his face still being pink, Prince Thomas nodded as well. Zendaya led you to where you knew the top of the steps were, and quickly set you and Prince Thomas to be presentable in front of the guests. Prince Thomas offered his arm to you, and you accepted it.
“Announcing for the first time, Princess (y/n) of Xaya and her betrothed, Prince Thomas of Xerin,” the herald bellowed into the hall. The doors opened up in front of you, the soft lights of the candles throughout the room glittered off of the chandelier and the gems throughout the room. Though you couldn’t necessarily see the eyes on you, you could definitely feel them. You put on a bright smile, looking up at Prince Thomas for a moment just to find his gaze already on you. You needed to play the part of the happily betrothed, after all.
As soon as you and the Prince descended the stairs, the chatter rose back up and filled the room. Prince Thomas dropped his arm, just to take your hand in his. You looked at him, wondering what his play was but you couldn’t just take your hand back without someone seeing. “Would you care to dance?”
“I’m sorry, but I need to find the High Priestess. She requested for me to join her after we’re announced, but please, enjoy yourself,” you told him, gesturing towards the festivities. He hesitated, but nodded nonetheless. Zendaya appeared at your side, a hand on your elbow, as soon as he walked away with Harrison.
“I found Rihanna. Are you ready to go with her?” You nodded, and Zendaya led you through the crowd to where Rihanna was. Rihanna had a glass of champagne in hand, watching the ball from the side. You could tell she was just basking in the success of the event so far. “Rihanna, I have the Princess.”
“I see that. Congrats on being officially announced,” Rihanna teased. “Right, come here. You want a drink?”
You nodded, figuring you could have one drink for the night. Rihanna handed you a champagne flute from the table beside her, and you took your spot next to her. “Okay. First we have the most important guests, Queen and King Beyoncé and Shawn Carter.”
“Wait, how’d you get them here? Also, isn’t their Princess still a child?”
“It’s not a party without Bey. And you don’t want to disrespect them by not inviting them here,” Rihanna explained with a smile. “Alright, that over there is Sir Michael B. Jordan, he’s not super important but he is attractive.”
“Rihanna,” Zendaya chastised with a roll of her eyes.
“What? It’s true. There’s King Kanye West,” Rihanna pointed out. You tilted your head in confusion.
“Wait, where’s Queen Kim?”
“They’re having issues at the moment. Like, finding a new Queen type of issues,” Rihanna added in a whisper before pointing out other people. “Lady Cardi, she’s always a blast. Queen Sza, Princess Ariana, Princess Selena, Prince Jaden, Princess Taylor.”
“Wait, who’s that?” you asked, nodding towards a woman laughing and joking with someone.
“Princess Letitia Wright,” Rihanna explained.
“I thought she wasn’t seeing anyone?”
“She isn’t. She’s accompanied by Sir John Boyega since her parents couldn’t make it.”
“I like her. I think she may get along with Prince Thomas,” you said. Rihanna looked at you with a raised brow.
“And how do you suppose that?”
“I just have a feeling. She seems… joyous,” you told her.
“Alright, I’ll see what strings I can pull. Enjoy yourself, anyone else will introduce themselves to you.” Before you could walk away, Rihanna pulled you back. “Watch out for Queen Kim’s siblings, they’re here and you know they cause trouble.”
“Noted.” With that, you and Zendaya ventured back into the crowd. Zendaya wasn’t supposed to be by your side for the time she was on duty - trusting the guards posted around the event to ensure your safety - but she wanted you to at least be with someone before she left your side. You were stopped a few times to congratulate you on your engagement, recognizing some of the people Rihanna had pointed out to you. You were in awe when Queen Beyoncé stopped you with a kind smile, complimenting your dress. As soon as the Queen walked away, Zendaya teased you about your starstruck gaze.
“(Y/n)! Where’d you go off to?” Harrison called out, dragging along Prince Thomas.
“I guess I can leave you with them,” Zendaya said as soon as they were close to you. “I do have to get back to duty.”
“Okay, I’ll see you as soon as you’re off, right?” Zendaya nodded.
“I expect you to save a dance for me,” she told you before turning to the two men approaching you. “I need to get to work, I expect you two will keep her company.”
“Will do, Lady Zendaya!” Harrison readily agreed. Zendaya gave you one last look before going to join the guards at the perimeter of the room. “Princess, you look amazing! You and Thomas should go dance, enjoy your engagement!”
You were shocked at Harrison’s insistence, especially since he knew your plan for the evening, but you didn’t see the point in disagreeing with him. Once again thinking of your image, it would appear odd if you didn’t dance with your betrothed at least once. “I would love to, if the Prince would ask me.”
“Wait, really?” Prince Thomas asked, brightening up at your teasing. You almost laughed at his reaction, but then he came to his senses. He dipped his head down, extending his hand out to you. “Princess (Y/n), would you care to dance?”
“I would love to,” you accepted, taking his hand. Prince Thomas led you to the dance floor where other couples were slow dancing, the string players providing the perfect atmosphere for them. You put your hand to rest on his shoulder, his going to rest on your waist (still at a respectable place).
“You do look amazing tonight, (y/n). I’m sorry for my reaction earlier, but you really just… wow. You’re gorgeous,” Prince Thomas told you, looking away as the blush returned to his face.
“I’ll take your reaction earlier as flattery,” you laughed. Prince Thomas gave you a sheepish smile as he led you through the motions of the dance. You knew there would be people watching you - your first public presentation as an engaged couple would serve as a fair source of entertainment for the others - but you couldn’t say it was bad. You and Prince Thomas were joking around, talking about your memories from the festival and just hanging out with him and Harrison over the past few weeks. One dance flowed into another, and then another, the songs flowing together as you just enjoyed your time with the Prince. Harrison would steal you away for a song or two, but you always ended up with Prince Thomas again.
“I heard you’re leaving after the ball,” you said, wanting to address the rumor.
“Haz and I are going to be leaving in a couple days. We’ve been away from Xerin for quite some time,” Prince Thomas joked.
“It’s going to be quiet around the palace without you two.”
“You know, I do really like you. I know this was arranged, but you’re a wonderful person and I would like to marry you,” Prince Thomas admitted as another song finished. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open the slightest bit, not sure where this was coming from.
“Thomas, I… I don’t know what to say,” you told him, guilt beginning to bloom in your chest.
“You don’t have to say anything right now. Thank you for the dances, (y/n).” He stepped back with a bow, letting you and the others know that you were done dancing with one another for now. You watched as he disappeared into the crowd, unsure what to do with yourself now. He’d actually fallen for you. You hadn’t led him on, had you? Would Rihanna be able to direct him towards Princess Letitia like you’d hoped, or would this just complicate things further?
You were beginning to spiral just the slightest bit, the people surrounding you not helping. You began making your way through the crowd, trying to find something to drink and just calm your nerves. You brushed off Princess Kylie as she tried to greet you, only focused on grounding yourself. Once you found a nice secluded corner, you leaned against the wall, resting your head against the cool stone.
“Princess, are you okay?” someone asked after a few minutes of you taking the chance to just breathe. Opening your eyes, you saw the one person who could always help you. There, in her formal armor, the lights creating a soft halo around her silhouette, was your beloved, worry evident on her face. You shook your head, trying to maintain your calm. Zendaya immediately stepped forward, taking you into her arms. You rested your head against her chest plate, and though it wasn’t the most comfortable thing, you treasured it.
“I’d rather not talk about it right now.”
“Okay. I’m here for you now.” Of course Zendaya knew what you needed to hear.
**********
Tag List: @uncookspaget, @ddesert-rosee, @gangganggg
Permanent Tag List: @treatallwithkindness, @laic2299, @delaber
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hi!! can i request a drabble of new personaltrainer!jungkook training a pretty awkward (and kinda chubby/thicc..?) y/n and its super fluffy and aaaa,, i love your writing aaaa 🥺
cloud nine
pairing: jungkook x y/n
wordcount: 3k
glimpse: y/n finally gives into jimin the gymbro’s thoughtful push, and jungkook is sO close to barking back to his chihuahua the moment he gets home :D // gif isn’t mine but look at it it’s so cRISPY!!!
notes: thank you sO much babie!! here you go :D
okay that’s iT!!
you totally need something new in your life
you need a change of pace or whatever that’s called
all the days you’ve been having are all blurring into the same one and it just makes you feel so stagnant
the only difference you could point out are the sleep shirts you wear and that’s ONLY if you don’t try to repeat wearing them
you now have a list of people you’re in awe of
people who genuinely and unironically consider friends the tv show as a cinematic masterpiece because nOAH FENCE how do they manage to get entertained by laugh tracks and the same skit over and over again
ok maybe your slander towards it increased because hoseok (the guy you have a sorta crush on) likes it and he leaves you on read and sometimes doesn’t even open your message and thEN you’d see his instagram stories and they’re all just???? friends???? what was the reason
and second, jimin!
jimin’s your best friend and that just makes you awed even more because you don’t even know how the two of you got close
jk it was when your friends forced you to come with them at this inflatable water park and you were sCARED and so he held your lifevest and was like
“hEY do you wanna take this in the same pace that i’m doing it?? tbh i just wanna get back to my mimosas but my friends paid too expensively for this”
<3 he has been the guardian of your heart since <3
jimin’s just so well-paced and organized and knows how to have his fun that his daily life doesn’t seem like a mindless routine
you are actively YEARNING for that kind of lifestyle
and right now it just seems like the stars are aligning for you and are practically made for your existence alone!!
jimin’s a gymbro
he is the living breathing talking definition of gymbro and gymrat and gymgod or whatever it is
.....
.......
.... gymin if u will ....
okAy then
but he wasn’t the aggressive type of gymbro, not at all!
he’s a total natural!!
like he’s ripped but not excessively and exaggeratedly ripped
he doesn’t flex but the muscle definition and the physique are just wHew exquisite!!
he doesn’t talk in protein powder lingo but you aren’t surprised to see a giant jug of it inside his cupboard!!! after all he’s proud to say that it’s practically all-skill!!!
and to top it off.,.,
:D
okay so jimin takes off his shirt right
the two of you are neighbors and you often come into each other’s places and it feels like home too
and you aren’t complaining!! you know that he runs a little hot that normal and you wouldn’t want him overheating
but he has this large tattoo on his rib that reads nevermind and it’s so cOOL and it just makes the gears in your head go creak creak because aha your best friend is the blueprint huh
you’re not surprised!! you really aren’t!!
after all, why would you be surprised out of all the things above when you already know that he owns a goddamn GYM??
the only regret that you have is not meeting him sooner :((
yeah sure pjm athletics does have a nice ring to it bUT WHAT ABOUT PARK’S GYMIN
you’ve always been.,., a lil curious ok
i mean your goddamn friend is the ownEr of a really well-known and well-praised gym!! how could you not??
you don’t wanna mooch off from him though no matter how much he offers you free classes and stuff
he always brings you home extra merch and energy drinks that you’re sure you can now have a tap for gatorade
he’s not dENSE!! he sees how you look at him whenever he does push-ups on your floor or when he does planks like no big deal
there’s this thought at the back of your head that y’know..,., what if THIS was the thing that’s gonna be your change of pace
lmao you’re looking for hardship basically
jimin’s finally had it when you sigh for the eleventh time while he’s doing pull-ups
you want to spend your own money and he knows you won’t accept any of his offers!!
that’s it he needs to be smart about this!!!
“woah jimin holy sHIT you’re having a 50% off your membership??? and it comes with a trainer too??? are you serious right now???”
:)))
he can now sleep in peace knowing his editing job for this flyer has paid off and he’s passed the “y/n’s not believing me” stage :))
if it wasn’t established enough there really isn’t a sale lol
here you are then,.,.
wearing workout leggings that jimin deemed to be reAlly great and it made quite a hefty dent in your wallet but you trust his judgement so ok
you’re not in the mood to wear anything besides jimin’s black dri-fit shirt because you really don’t wanna attract attention as the newbie
this is good!! you now have a gym membership AND a personal trainer!!
you dON’T exactly need them but you feel you just do y’know!! there’s no harm in trying :D
you didn’t want jimin to be your personal trainer and he basically sULKED for a whole week
it’s not a him problem!! it’s a you problem!!!
you know that it’s a given that the trainers shOuld be excellently to a degree to actually train someone else
but it’s now dawning in you that HE’S the owner and he’s so intimidatingly good!!! you would look like a raw egg that’s just dumped haphazardly into a pot and he’s the perfectly-boiled egg :((
oh my god
jungkook feels like he’s gonna throw up with how nervous he is
it’s his first day as a personal trainer!! :D
he’s half-excited and half-terrified because holy shit fIRST of all this gym was hard to apply to in the first place
everyone’s flocking it because:
a) it’s really great
b) even greater benefits for the employees
c) the pay is hUGE
d) the equipment?? the morals?? the testimonials?? the owner?? the whole thing??? FANTASTIC
and second omg jungkook won’t admit it to anyone but uHm he’s kinda scared ok
he’s not the type of person that’s comfortable with ordering people around??? even if that’s technically his job???
like what if his first-ever client is a guy like jason momoa and that guy’s a fucking UNIT for sure
imagine hIM telling jASON MOMOA to give him three sets x twenty reps of push-ups
g-gulp
“or i can do it for you, i-if you want?”
he’s bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet and swinging his arms around forward and backward to make them clap quietly
“there, you’re all set!! i already filled up all the forms for you the moment i gave you the flyer!!”
“but-“
“your trainer’s... not me. but he’s uh, what’s his name again, jungkook!! what does he look like again — oh right!! i remember!!”
“jimin-“
“he should be the guy with the big doe eyes!! has a lot of dangly earrings!! if he’s not wearing a sweater then he should be the one who has some tattoos!!”
“no jimin-“
“off you go!! i’ll be bouncing around but i’ll keep an eye on you, don’t worry!! okay now go and i’ll let you have a sip of my gatorade even if we have the same drink :D”
.....
whew
there goes nothing then
you’re about to keep your duffel bag close as a reason to stall to getting to the locker room but jimin’s already one step ahead and snatched it from you
you didn’t even get your towel :((
it had a little blue cloud embroidered at the middle of it and it’s your Emotional Support Towel by default
you’re kinda nervous since there’s some pairs of eyes on you because after all they just saw you have the most carefree conversation with the owner they’re a lil scared to talk to
you’re wringing your hands together as you try to spot this jungkook with jimin’s descriptions and-
oh
oH
O H
jungkook looks so ????
wow?????
he’s gorgeous like that is nOt up for debate
he looks so fresh?? effortless?? handsome???
jungkook looks like he smells like baby powder and freshly-washed sheets
the baby powder that you’re tempted to snORt because it smells so good which was the one you’d put on your chest bc boob sweat and to prevent ur thighs chafing
he had to do a double-take on you because the first time he glanced at this walking person he immediately shut down
like when something looks sO pretty that you have to look away for a second because you literally can’t take it
oR like when you have this favorite scene of a movie and you have to physically pause it before rewinding and doing that for another six times
“are you perhaps jungkook?? because i’m not surE and-...”
“jungkook i am. i-i aM jeon jungkook!! yes, right, jungkook!!!!!”
holy fuck he’s stopped working
your mouth’s a little parted because you didn’t expect him to go on that lil spiel cLEARLY but omg he’s adorable!!!
if he could punch himself he really would
it’s taking him a second to regroup but you take the initiative to introduce yourself :D
“i’m y/n! you’re my trainer from what they told me :))”
you’re a lil more awkward when it comes to social interactions like these but it looks like you’re acing it when put in front of jungkook
the both of you shake hands and then immediately put it behind your back because wow u just shook the pretty boy’s hand AND it’s not even 8 in the morning yet!!
you haven’t even started the workout portion yet but ur already on fire
( jimin’s looking at the security footage and even HE’S blushing from the secondhand embarrassment jungkook’s brough oh my god )
(( jimin suddenly wishes he could unlearn reading people’s lips ))
“so, what brought you here?”
it’s jungkook who asks but he alsO wants to answer himself to say it’s fate aha :D
he’s getting you to stretches and he’s doing them with you!!
“to be honest?? well there was like a fIFTY percent discount but you already know all of that”
wait
what now
“a sale? what-...”
there’s an abrupt noise that goes through the whole gym and it makes the both of you flinch and you even yelP
if you see jimin lifting a 100lbs barbell only to throw it down and cut off jungkook from speaking THEN MIND YOUR OWN BUSINESS
“you okay?”
jungkook asks you quietly and taps your shoulder and you’re about to faint right then and there of how you met like then minutes ago and he’s cONCERNED
the focus on today was flexibility plus easing you into working out!!!
stretches are the next best thing to working out and it’s a win-win combo bc you’re flexible aND you’re basically exerting effort = kind of a workout apparently
the bit of reaching your toes then doing a downward dog and the upward-facing dog right after to hear that satisfying grunt of your joints is a LITTLE awkward because jungkook’s looking at you
jungkook wants to look away but in the same time he can’t will himself to
one because he’s a young wide-eyed attracted man and twO he’s the trainer omg he needs to look at you!!!
“o-okay! just a set of jack jum — jUMPING JACKS!!! jumping jacks and we could start :)))”
no one told you.,.,.
no one told you where you should look when you’re doing jumping jacks
you can’t look downwards because that’ll throw you off and you can’t look up either because why?? what??? WHO are you seeking up there????
looking straight ahead is kinda awkward
the safe answer was everywhere at once according to you
you sneak a look at jungkook and you almost choke in your own spit with how handsome he still looks
you’re not gonna cope up with that fact probably ever
jungkook’s feeling a lil sweaty now because uHm he shouldn’t really be doing this with you technically
it’s usually a trainer doing it with you for like the first five reps and then letting you do it alone for the rest
but nO he’s doing this with you he doesn’t mind :D
he could feel a bead of sweat by his sideburns and he’s screaming internally to gO the fuck back where it came from
he wants to tear off his hoodie but he doesn’t know if he should since he doesn’t have a shirt underneath!!!
being shirtless to the gym isn’t new but you’re with him and nOW he feels nervous
honestly jungkook would rather overheat than to make you feel uncomfortable
news flash: you want to curl up into a ball and cry about thinking how you’d be sore the next day
you r about to give out and tear up a little bit because fuck this is nOT an introductory workout
you also don’t want to look like a wimp in front of jungkook because that is not a good look for your pride and you’d feel embarrassed for eternity
just two more to go!!
honestly fUCK fire hydrants!!! 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦?? 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕗𝕦𝕔𝕜 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕪𝕠𝕦?? 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕚𝕊?? 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕓𝕖???? 𝕚 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕪𝕠 𝕒𝕊𝕊!!!
you raise your head because you’re getting dizzy looking down
jungkook’s looking at you and he sees you looking at him and it dOESN’T help the way you look right now
with you sweaty and grumbling under your breath and ur baby hair all over the place and ur eyes unfocused and fix at the same time a-and ur lips parted and-
JESUS LINE UP AT THE DMV RIGHT NOW TAKE THE WHEEL
jungkook’s so nervous and flustered that his limp actually trembles with how hot his cheeks are and he’s rambling out of nowhere
“fire hydrants amirite??? most certainly inspired by dogs and stuff because cooky, my chihuahua, does exactly that when he pees and-...”
THERE’S THAT LOUD BARBELL CLANGING AGAIN
oh my god he should not have said that
jungkook’s beyond mortified wHY DID HE SAY THAT
you look speechless and you aRE
you’re just nodding at him with a tight-lipped smile and if he knows better that’s because you’re so spent and a little light-headed and less off from his nervous rambling
planks,,, just planks,,, the final bit of it all
you don’t wanna get dizzy at the last stretch so you’re trying your best to not pay attention to the blood rushing to ur head
jungkook’s so distracted with his thoughts that he wordlessly adjusts you
lifts up your core while adjusting your feet closer before pressing his hand to your back and-
aHA FUCK
you now feel like you can run a marathon right after that
jungkook now feels like he can compete in a twenty-hour triathlon
he’s praising you to no end that you did sOOOO good!!! you really did!!!!
meanwhile your face is hot not only from that but also because you’ve endured hardship that felt like hours <3
you’re breathlessly laughing because wHEW you really did do that and wow you’re proud of yourself!!!! it’s not even 10 in the morning!!!
there’s a towel that’s gently patting your face section by section
:)
“you uhm, you didn’t have a towel with you so-“
jungkook pats at your neck to your nape and that’s when it hits that o-OH right i’ll leave you to that
you take the towel with a grin you’re fighting so hard and that’s when you realize that it’s not just a random gym one
but rather it was jungkook’s himself because it’s the same clean one he had in his hands awhile ago!!
you can smell him on it and you make sure to pat your face extra dry because you wouldn’t want to get your face sweaty now would you :D his perfume’s just a bonus, right :D
shouldn’t trainers be the cold and straight to the point ones and immediately leave right after you’re all done????
..... inch resting
“oh my gOD — mr. jimin sir-nim min jimin-nIM!!”
jungkook has the fright of his life when his boss appears from nowhere by his side
jimin laughs at how frazzled this guy is lmao but anyways he came here for you (as if he hasn’t been supervising from afar the whole time)
“want me to give you a ride home or?”
kook’s a little lost and he might just cry as he starts to think that oh wait a second are you guys-
“he’s my best friend.”
you whisper under your breath towards him and he unknowingly sighs in relief
“well did you get here using your jeep or your vespa???”
jimin has this jeep he passionately calls chimmy the jeep and he has a knack for naming things with a ring on it ok
and the other was a cream-colored vespa he bought like six months ago
he learned how to ride the bike a year ago and he was immediately let’s get this to the next level idc i’m getting a vESPA!!!
you have an iRRATIONAL fear of vespas
you’re okay with big bikes and regular motorcycles!!! in fact you find them less threatening than jimin’s motorcycle
the little wheels scare you and it’s just so??? it looks so bite-sized wHY does it look like that???? it looks like you could breathe an extra breath to your right and the vespa would steer to the right
ugh you hate his motorcycle sO bad
“well don’t you hAte public transport when you’re tired and all that???”
yikes you did
it’s true!! you’d call him to pick you up because the bus ride hits harder when you’ve had a long day and u feel every bump in the road possible
“i have a big bike!”
jungkook chimes in and he even raises his hand and that’s when he shuts up when he realizes his mistake
“no one asked mhmm i’m sorry jimin-nim sir hYung-nim”
your eyes widen as it sinks in you that oh my god he mIGHT be as into you as you are with him and that’s so ???? that’s such a heartwarming concept you can’t believe
jungkook has the same big brain moment and he takes your widened eyes as a signal to keep talking
“i have TWO helmets! but uhm one of them is for kooky and he’s a chihuahua, wait i already said that, so that means it’s just a tINY helmet i ordered from amazon but it’s okAy i can wear it!!! b-but i’m not forcing you or anything that i should take you home o-or no offense to mr. jimin-nim sir i am NOT underestimating you or-“
surprisingly, jimin doesn’t hate the idea of you and jungkook
ah he should probably adopt a dog and name them jupiter or sth,,, you and koo look like you’re gonna end up anyways
“okay. just bring her home in one piece.”
he’s oddly calm and that also makes YOU confused
jungkook isn’t confused however because the moment you turn, jimin mouths to him in korean and the rough translation was hurt her and i’ll kill you :D
you nodded your head and that meant he’s iNDEED taking you bome
he starts throwing things in his duffel bag (and he should still be in the gym but jimin jus gave him a free pass) and he’s wordlessly carrying yours too!!
he could feel your fist holding the back of his hoodie and jungkook just feels at peace :’’’)
wearing a ridiculous miniature helmet for dogs on top of his head that won’t do shit is tOTALLY worth it
#feedback pls and thank you :D#jungkook#jeon jungkook#jungkook imagine#jungkook imagines#jungkook drabble#jungkook drabbles#jungkook au#jungkook oneshot#jungkook oneshots#jungkook fluff#jungkook fluff imagine#jungkook fic recs#trainer!jungkook#bts masterlist#requested drabbles
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sleepless || harry styles
six
pairing: Harry Styles x OC
synopsis: getting back into everyday life
disclaimer: slander of ones self, child abuse
I want to be with you, it is as simple and as complicated as that.
- charles bukowski
After finishing her tea, Avery told Harry that she was tired and made her exit. The way home had been cold and rainy, upon arriving back to her flat she realized that it wasn't much better. She walked into the kitchen in search of more tea. Coming up empty-handed, she decided to brew a pot of coffee. That would keep her awake, at least.
In the corner of her living room sat an old piano, she had bought it a couple of years prior at a flea market. The thing worn and very out of tune, but adorned with a wonderful message written in metallic silver sharpie. “Girls just wanna have fun.” she wandered over to it, taking a seat on the small bench, letting her fingers wander over the unfamiliar keys. She understood them just as much as she would a foreign language.
Her long, fragile fingers pressed down on the white stripes, the atrocious sound it makes sends a shiver down her spine. Closing the lid of the piano and setting her mug on top, she contemplated what else to do. The main goal was to stay awake, as it always was. Everything that she did from the moment she came home to the moment she went back to work was focused on just that. Anything she could do to take her mind off of that would happily suffice.
So, for the next half an hour she read a book, made another pot of coffee, sat down to compile a list for the grocery, started a bad french movie, drew several small doodles on her grocery list, and eventually made her way out to he balcony to see if her neighbor's cat was in sight.
At 1:30 am she went back inside due to the cold air. Once settled, she was greeted by a deafening silence. It isn't unfamiliar. All her nights went like this. She wasn't living her life, just waiting for the time to pass. Sometimes she would stand inside of her tiny bathroom, look into the mirror for a good while and take in her appearance. The bags under her eyes, the sunken face, and the slumped shoulders,
On rare occasions, she would fall asleep. This was almost always met with her waking up in a panic. Nonstop tears and shakes. Always alone. Always.
Tonight Avery was again standing in the bathroom. She thought about the party while she brushed her teeth. You were dumb. You were acting stupid and weird and everyone must have thought you were crazy. Everyone.
She opened her bedroom door, crawled underneath the sheets of her bed, and fell asleep with a racing heart.
“Mummy! I painted you something!” I exclaimed, running into the kitchen. The piece of paper in my wand-waving around like a flag. Mummy was standing there, her eyebrows knit together, and a stern expression on her face. That look alone made me stop in my tracks.
“What did I tell you, Avery? Huh?! What did I tell you!” She yells, looking down at me. I lower my gaze, hiding my paining behind my back.
“Not to run in the house.'' I whisper apologetically, looking anywhere but her. Mommy's hand connects with my cheek and I fall backward, the painting falling to the floor. Tears fill my eyes as she slaps me for a second time. “I’m sorry, Mommy… I didn't mean to make you mad”
She kneels in front of me, making sure that we are on a small level. I think that she might even want to hug me. Say that she is sorry and that she didn't mean to hit me, and ask if I am okay. As I step forward with outstretched arms she grabs my hair, pulling me closer. “You know what you are? An ungrateful brat. And that's all you will ever be.”
Avery shakes the whipped cream container for the second time, the disapproving gaze of the customer in front of her beyond prominent. At last, a bit of whipped cream topped the caramel frappuccino with cinnamon, almond milk, and sprinkles.
“That will make 3 pounds, please.”
The girl placed 3 pounds on the counter, took her coffee, and left without saying another word. She joined her boyfriend who was waiting patiently outside for her. As soon as the door closes, Avery lifts the curtain that leads to the back of the shop. “Tom! I think we're out of whipped cream!”
An annoyed grunt is the only answer she receives before Tom makes his way to the front of the shop. “Again? Maybe we should stop selling those damn frappuccinos.”
“Any new job offers?’” Avery asks, wiping her hands on one of the nearby dish towels. A look at the clock reminded her that her break would start in just a couple of minutes.
‘Not really,” Top sights, leaning against the counter, his gaze fixed on the big window, overlooking the street. “Maybe I should make the salary a bit higher, but I don't have that kind of money. It's hard enough for me to even pay you, but we really could use the extra help around here. I'm telling you, the very next person who puts in an application will get the job. You will get a bit of a break around here too. Do you think you could run out and get some more whipped cream? The next delivery doesn't come till Friday.” He reaches into his pocket, pulling out five pounds.
“Sure,” Avery is already on her way out of the shop. “I got it covered.” Tom gives her a thankful smile, putting the money back into his pocket.
“You're a real one, Avery.”
Avery was never very fond of receiving compliments. They always made her feel very uncomfortable and she never knew how to react to them. Genuine smiles or a grateful glance meant a lot more to her. It made her feel all warm and fuzzy. Words were too easy. Everyone could say something without meaning it.
She scurried across the street to the nearest Tesco to get three more containers of whipped cream. After paying and a highly uncomfortable small talk with the cashier, she made her way to her favorite bagel place. While making her way there, she decided that four things made her life bearable. Tea, the neighbor’s cat, genuine smiles, and bagels. There wasn't much more to it.
She went with her usual bagel order accompanied by a black tea, finding a nice spot towards the back of the shop to sit, the three containers of whipped cream sat close beside her. Her eyes ran over the pages of the book she had brought with her, but she just couldn't seem to concentrate. Her eyes simply just float past each word, not truly reading. The nightmare from last night was still at the forefront of her mind, weighing her down today. She regretted going to bed at all. It always bought this with it. You couldn't have one without the other.
“What's got you looking so miserable?” A voice suddenly asked. Avery jumped back, nearly losing her grip on the book. Harry stood looking down at her. His silhouette blocked the sunlight flowing in from a nearby window, so she couldn't quite make out his features. “I’m sorry, I didn't want to scare you.”
“It's okay,” She breathed out. “Hi, Harry.”
He smiled at her before placing the coffee in his hands, of which she hadn't noticed before, down on the table, taking a seat across from her. “You look tired.”
She always looked tired. He must have noticed. Everyone noticed. “You're very charming, you know that?”
“I get that quite a lot.” They sat in silence for a while, Harry sipping his coffee, occasionally settling his gaze on Avery. She completely gave up on trying to read her book and focused her attention on her bagel and tea. The afternoon sun lit up the shop, every table in front of them being illuminated in a warm glow.
Avery enjoyed the silence and Harry didn't seem to mind it either. She still didn't understand the stranger she had met and kept on meeting, but it was nice. It was different having a person around, like having a friend. “Do you wanna go out tonight?”
“What?”
“My friends and I are going out tonight and I thought you might want to accompany us,” Harry explained, his eyes not leaving her. He was worried. About what? She had no clue, but he wasn't very good at hiding it. Not at all.
“Wouldn't that make me even more tired?” Avery questioned, referring to his statement from earlier.
“I'll give you some energy.”
“How does that even work?”
“You will have to come to find out.” He smiled but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Avery agreed to go out with him and his friends, also agreeing to meet him at her flat. Avery left first, leaving Harry to sit a bit longer at the table. As she walked away, the warm glow of the sun hitting her face in the perfect way, Harry wasn't sure he had ever met someone more lonely.
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#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#soft!harry#cute!harry#photographer!harry#harry edward styles#harry styles#solo harry#harry 1d#hs#hs1#fine line#harry edits#stream fine line#harry styles edit#hazza#hazza styles#haz#one direction fanfiction#one direction
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Here We Are, Born to be Kings - AUgust Day 9
Title: Here We Are, Born to be Kings
Author: Purple_ducky00
Rating: Teen
Warnings: N/A
Pairing: Rhodey/Tony
Square Filled: G2 Dramatic Proposal
Link: Read on AO3
Summary: Prince James is in love with Lord Tony Stark, a childhood friend. However, the Starks have been disgraced due to embezzlement charges. Can they overcome this?
++++++++++
“Your Highness. Lord Stark is here to see you.” Quentin Beck holds up his nose.
Prince James Rhodes rolls his eyes. It’s not like Beck should judge. He was only hired because his family was in serious debt. Tony is working out of his.
Tony walks in a few minutes later, hair askew. “Wow, Rhodey, your servants hate me. I call it an achievement.”
“They just think it’s ok to judge since their scandals happened long ago enough for people to forget. You don’t deserve this.”
“I probably do.” Tony shrugs. “It doesn’t bother me. Actually, it gives me the chance to ditch my politeness because they already dislike me.”
“Oh for that luxury,” Rhodey sighs. He hates the protocol he must go through. Maybe that’s why he finds Tony so refreshing.
They first met at a football match. Tony was on the other team, and he told the young prince, “We’re not playing any easier because you’re the prince. So, be ready for that.”
Rhodey laughed and started playing. Tony’s team was clearly better, and they defeated Rhodey's team easily. After the game, Tony invited him to grab some lunch. They have been fast friends ever since.
Now, Rhodey is 22 and Tony is 21. Tony’s father died last year, and Tony inherited his estate. After going over the numbers, Tony’s godfather, Obadiah Stane informed him that Howard had been falsifying records and was basically bankrupt.
Dazed and reeling from his parents' sudden death, Tony doesn’t know what to do with this information. He reaches out for help, but as Howard had been stealing money from his peers, everyone refuses to help him. Rhodey offers to bail him out completely. Tony won’t let him. He decides he will work to pay off his father's debts.
Tony was always incredibly smart. His patented inventions were used worldwide. He decides to start his own company, Stark Enterprises, where he builds and sells hi-tech machinery and entertainment devices. As his company quickly grows, he branches out into clean energy and satellites. Not even a full year after starting his company, Tony is very successful. With only Stane and his PA, Pepper Potts, at his right hand, Tony makes sure that he himself takes care of the books. Every entry is painstakingly entered and checked by the big boss himself.
Rhodey is very proud of his friend, but it seems that his family is the only one in the kingdom that is. King Terrance and Queen Roberta love the young man as a son, but they often wonder if he is taking on too much, causing his sleepless nights and unhealthy eating habits. Tony waves them off saying he had had those problems before his parents had died.
Prince James’ PR agent tells him that finding someone to date might be a good look for him. Everyone is looking for news of the royal family, and they will only assume the worst if they don’t hear from each member. Queen Roberta’s cooking classes and bingo games are televised. The king does a podcast twice a month. Jeannie plays tennis professionally. James is the only one without a big public profile, and he prefers that. However, there are some people who think that James is being pushed out of the spotlight or being abused in some kind. To quell any quickly rising rumors, Rhodey agrees to attend sports matches and talk to the press for a few minutes each time. When Tony’s not working his ass off, he often accompanies Tony.
What Rhodey doesn’t tell his PR agent is the reason he doesn’t date. He is hopelessly in love with Tony and admitting that would be bad for a few reasons. 1.) Everyone in the country is against Tony. They would slander his name even more if they thought he had got his “money-grubbing claws” in the prince. 2.) Tony is straight. He had never told Rhodey otherwise, and he has only dated women as far as Rhodey knows. 3.) He doesn’t want any reason to make Tony uncomfortable in the only place he is welcome other than his home. So, he skirts the topic because fake dating is not his idea of fun.
Now, Tony’s here and Rhodey knows he’s giving Tony heart eyes. “So, you’ve got a day off from me. What’s the plan, Rhodey?”
“You pick today. I’m up for anything.” Rhodey trusts that Tony won’t do anything Rhodey can’t.
Tony sits on the chair beside Rhodey. “I need to sit. I don’t think I’ve stopped moving for a week.”
“So, what you’re saying is you need sleep.” Rhodey retorts.
“No, I need to spend time with my Rhodeybear. We never did that Star Wars marathon after Rise of Skywalker came out, did we?” Tony pokes him. “We can order like tons of pizza and greasy foods and bro it out like the old times.”
Stuck in a theatre room with only Tony and highly unhealthy food? “Sounds like a great day. Let’s queue up the movies. I’ll have |Miss Cabe order our food. The usual?” Tony nods and heads off to the theater.
Rhodey pulls out his phone and texts a maid, Bethany Cabe, to place an order for the following: an extra-large bacon pizza, two orders of cheesy curly fries, mozzarella sticks, and onion rings. Rhodey has cases of Tony’s favorite beer, so they did not need to worry about drinks.
As they settle in to watch the movies, Tony tells him, “Wake me up if I fall asleep. I don’t want to miss Episode Six again.”
“Come on Tones, Return of the Jedi isn’t the best.” Rhodey smirks.
Tony glares at him. “It’s my favorite. Leave me alone. Go ahead and like Empire or whatever one you like the best. Geez.”
“You know mine is Episode Three. The tragedy, the pain, the John Williams’ scores? A masterpiece.”
“Anakin deserved better.” Tony mumbles as he eats a bite of pizza. Rhodey sighs. He’s heard this rant many times, and he’ll probably hear it again tonight. Tony really gets into these movies.
Tony falls asleep at the end of A New Hope, his head falling on Rhodey’s shoulder. He looks so exhausted so Rhodey lets him sleep through Empire since Tony thinks it’s overhyped or something. Rhodey likes it. When Return of the Jedi starts, Rhodey nudges Tony awake. “Episode 6? Honeybear, you are an angel.” Tony kisses his cheek.
By the time The Last Jedi comes on, both of the men are sleeping. Jeannette comes in to check on them and snaps a picture of Tony lying on top of Rhodey, both snoring away.
Rhodey wakes up a few hours later and freezes. Tony is sleeping peacefully on him, his head on Rhodey’s chest. He doesn’t dare move in fear of waking Tony up. He slowly reaches for his phone and scrolls through Instagram and other social media apps until Tony wakes up.
Tony wakes up slowly, but when he’s fully awake he jumps up and goes. “I’ve got to get to work!”
“Hey Tony. It’s Sunday. We were going to spend Saturday and Sunday together, right?”
“Oh. Oh. Whew. I thought.” Tony slumps. “Probably hallucinating from all that grease.”
“Maybe we should get a little more sleep in a real bed.” Rhodey suggests. Tony nods, and they walk up to Rhodey’s room. Since they were kids, Tony always slept in Rhodey’s bed with him. They only ever slept and/or cuddled, and Rhodey has a king bed in case either of them needed their own space.
They go to Jeannie’s tennis match then accompany her to an expensive Italian restaurant for dinner. The next morning, there are pictures splashed across the tabloids. Stark trying to get in with the Royal Family? Read more on page 3! One says. The Apple Doesn’t Fall far from the Tree – Another Gold-Digging Stark! Rhodey shakes his head. He was afraid this would happen. He calls his PR agent, Maria Hill.
She answers with a “Now do you see why having a partner would be good?”
“Yes. Do you have any candidates who would be willing to date with no sex and/or strings attached? For public only?”
“You don’t know how many celebrities only hope for that. Let me see which ones I can get. I’ll send you over a packet when I get them.”
When he gets the packet, Rhodey isn’t surprised to find that 75% of them are women. Skipping through them, he tells Maria to reach out to an A-list actress Natasha Romanov. She is a beautiful woman, and they seem to have a lot of the same likes and dislikes. She agrees to meet with Rhodey at a small café near the palace. He introduces himself as Rhodey, then corrects it to “James or Jim” when Romanov gives him an odd look. “I’m sorry. My best friend always calls me Rhodey. It’s just what I expect now. I mean, if you want to call me that in private, it’s fine. Maria thinks it’s better if you call me James or Jim when talking with the press.”
“Tell me about this best friend.” Natasha leans forward. “He sounds like a nice guy.”
Rhodey launches into a detailed description of Tony: his strengths, his flaws, his quirks, etc. When he’s done, she asks, “And you’re dating me because you can’t date him?”
“How did you…?”
“You’re in love with him. Just look at your face. It’s ok. I won’t tell the press. I have almost the same problem. I’m in a poly relationship with a different celebrity couple. However, since Hollywood, even with its sex scandals, still looks down on poly relationships. I need a beard to keep our activity on the downlow. Is that acceptable for you?”
Rhodey nods. “Of course. And you’re right. I love Tony, but I need to keep the press out of his life. His father put him through a lot, and he’s trying to make up for Howard’s sins. He doesn’t need the extra press coverage. Also, I don’t know if he likes me like that. I’ve never seen him date a guy.”
“Well, I’d like to meet him.”
+++++++
Natasha and Tony eventually meet. Tony is happy to meet her, but Rhodey feels that Tony is wearing one of his many masks. |When they kiss goodnight, Natasha tells him, “Rhodey, he likes you.”
“Not that I want to doubt you, but I’m highly doubtful on this one here.”
A few months pass, and Natasha and Prince James are photographed at red carpet events, at sports games, and at galas. Rumors are spreading that Prince James might propose soon. Natasha shows up at the palace for a surprise visit. “Hey, can we talk?” She pulls James from his family dinner.
She tells him how the couple that she is dating are planning on coming out to the press as poly with her because they know some younger people who are receiving hate for their relationships. They want to be allies for such people. And they want her there when they come out. “Can we say we amicably split? I’d love to keep in contact with you.”
“That sounds good.” His phone pings. He has a google alert set up for Tony because the press likes to come up to him for hostile interviews at the most inopportune times. James does his best to save him. “Listen Nat, I will talk to my publicist, but I have to go.”
The press has trapped Tony on the palace driveway. “What do you think of Prince James marrying Ms. Romanov?” One reporter asks.
“I didn’t know they got engaged, but I think they are an excellent match. Well-suited for each other.” Rhodey can see Tony is keeping his press face on but was not ready for the sudden press conference.
Another reporter sneers. “We know you were trying to get a piece of the royalty. Will you try for the princess now that the prince is spoken for?”
“Excuse me?” Tony reels. “What are you talking about?”
“They’ll never have you. You’re just a charity case to them. What do you think of that? Did you think Prince James really liked you? Especially after what your father did?” Another reporter shoves a microphone in his face.
Tony loses his mask. “Do I think Rho- Prince James really liked me? I have known the prince since we were young teenagers. I know he likes me… as a friend. But anything more? No. He never did, never will. I know what my father did; I know what I have to do to fix it. My father and Prince James have no correlation. What are you even trying to say here?” Rhodey can see the pain in Tony’s eyes. They flash when he says that Rhodey will never like him as anything more as a friend.
“Excuse me.” Rhodey steps forward. “Can you step away from him, please?”
The press apologizes and steps away. “Now, I want to say this once more and hopefully never again. Lord Stark is not his father. Lord Stark is paying his father’s investors back as quickly as he can. He started up his business on his own with his trust fund from his maternal grandmother. Howard never saw or added to a penny of that fund. What is the point of hating a man for the sins of his father? Keep rolling. I am talking to the country as a whole. Leave him alone, please. I want to say one more thing. Tony Stark, you are the love of my life. The reason I have not dated is because the only person I have ever loved was you. Yes, Natasha and I dated, but we did to keep other things hidden. I’m sure she will let you know at some point. It’s not my job. Tony, again, I love you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you and perhaps rule with you. I do not have a ring yet because I had not planned to propose to you in front of live TV today, yet here I am. Will you make me the happiest man in the world and marry me?”
“You’re serious?” Tony gasps.
“Completely.”
“Then Rhodey, my Honeybear, my Platypus, my Sourpatch, I will marry you in a heartbeat.” Tony smiles widely, and Rhodey kisses him deeply, in front of the cameras. As they turn to the palace, Tony turns back to the cameras, lifts his middle finger, and says, “Fuck you” whilst smiling sweetly.
++++++
The country is so shocked at Prince James’ dramatic proposal. People wonder if Tony is a good fit for the prince due to his blatant disregard for protocol. Princess Jeannie posts the picture she took of them sleeping in the theatre room on Instagram, the caption “I knew it.” She broke the internet with the most likes on an Instagram post.
Tony goes through his numbers and his father’s numbers again to make sure everyone is paid off. While looking at his father’s records again, he notices some discrepancies from Obadiah’s report. The truth comes out – Howard had not done anything wrong; it was Obadiah. He falsified documents, records, and even bills to give him much more money. Obadiah is fired and imprisoned. Tony’s name is cleared. Anthony Stark marries Prince James Rhodes a happy man.
#ironhusbands#royalty au#tony stark doesn't give a care#ironhusbands bingo 2020#ironhusbands bingo#au_gust_2020#i write!
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The Not-So-Amazing Mary Jane Part 31: AMJ #4.3
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Now I’ve torn perhaps the worst set of pages in the entire story a new one, we can continue with the rest of the issue.
Let’s move onto the next page.
So Beck asked Screwball to lay off the drones but she’s still having fun. This ‘fun’ involves continuing to harass the paparazzi. I actually don’t have a problem with that. Turn around is fair play and she isn’t hurting them in this specific instance.
Anyway, the Savage Six show up and explain they share the paparazzi’s interest in Sonny Diperna(specifically because he’s playing the Vulture). The Six cut a deal with the paparazzi. They will provide the paparazzi state-of-the-art military grade photo-surveillance gear. In exchange the paparazzi will use this to bring the Six information on McKnight, the movie and it’s location.
Okay, so presumably Screwball’s drones are fitted with camera to enable her to control them with that in mind wouldn’t she be able to observe the Six? I’m willing to let that pass because the Six might be out of sight of the camera or Screwball might’ve called off her drone between panels.
However, how did the Six find these paparazzi? The answer must be that they were following them. The paps were following Sonny themselves and were only stopped at this point by Screwball. So there is no way for Vulture to have known they’d be at this location at this time without having followed them himself.
That being the case then, why didn’t Vulture (or one of his minions) follow Diperna’s car? Why didn’t they follow the drones? Or this one drone lagging behind? Couldn’t Vulture, being a genius, invent some kind of tracking device to follow the drones signal or plant a tracer on them or Diperna himself?
Why on Earth are using paparazzi journalists the best route to finding the location of the set?
I understand that this is a story steeped in the world of Hollywood, but you still need to justify the logistics within that. If Williams wanted a story wherein paparazzi (an infamous component Hollywood) are integral to the story she should internally justify it within the narrative.
Anyway, what exactly is this military grade photo-surveillance gear?
Well, it’s literally just the Vulture’s wings and flight tech. The paps use it to enter the offices of the potential investors from issue #2. They also use it to emerge from the locker of the actor who was originally going to play Mysterio. Wherever they go they take pictures and ask invasive questions about Cage McKnight, in particular about his aggressive attitude.
‘God where to start’ might as well be my catch phrase for this issue.
Let me start off by saying I get Williams’ intent here. She’s satirizing the invasiveness of the paparazzi. The thing is in an established narrative (which the world of Spider-Man is) if you are going to do a satire you need to do one of two things.
Either you make the satire a self-contained off to the side project (which AMJ isn’t) or you make it work within the verisimilitude of the established universe (which AMJ doesn’t).
In this situation the Vulture wants information on the movie. To an extent seeking the help f paparazzi makes sense to that end, as does outfitting them with technology to make that easier. Butt he technology he gives them is not used logically
I can buy that it’s military grade because S.H.I.E.L.D. operatives (like Peter’s sister Teresa) uses similar technology. But it’s not at all photo-surveillance tech. That’s like calling a jetpack photo-surveillance tech. Even if he was making a weird joke the gear he gives them is not all that helpful.
At best, they could use it to spy on people from high up or follow them. But the Vulture himself could do that or his hired goons could do that. Why does he specifically need paparazzi photographers to do this? They aren’t even using the flight tech for that though. They are just using it to invade private property, presumably from open windows. Then they just harass people by taking pictures and asking annoying questions. Why not have them relay their leads to Vulture prompting him to abduct and interrogate these people? Wouldn’t that be more effective? What does taking photos of them accomplish for Vulture. How could Vulture confirm anything the investors told the paps be legitimate and not something to get rid of them?
Not to mention I don’t even know how that last pap fitted into that locker with the wings…or why he even needed those wings to do that!
Also, this is yet more evidence of McKnight’s reputation being dragged through the mud because of Mysterio.
Also, also this is the first time in story that the name of the movie is actually mentioned. It’s not even the full title either.
On the next page we see Ken holding a press conference, begging Cage McKnight to get the paps off his back as they won’t leave him alone. MJ and Mallorie see the news and realise the Six are desperate and back on their trail. MJ reassures Mallorie that once they’ve finished shooting Ken’s family will be safer.
Meanwhile ‘McKnight’ is telling Deperna about the role of the Vulture. He explains that the Vulture and Mysterio are two sides of the same coin and could’ve wound up the same way. Unfortunately Deperna has to leave for a talk show interview. He figures if he’s being hounded anyway he might as well put the P.R. to good use.
So…Mary Jane is a selfish b-word here.
Instead of ceasing production and finding a way to deal with the threats to Ken and his family she’s content to just keep going and thereby continuing to endanger them. And to be clear the word used is ‘safer’. Not safe. Ken and his family will still be in danger…from super villains.
What.
The.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t have to spell this out. I shouldn’t even need to refer back to part 16. But I will anyway.
Mary Jane would never prioritise making a film over the safety of innocent people.
She especially wouldn’t considering she’s been the victim of stalkers and unwanted press attention herself. Back in ASM #521-522 MJ had her big stage debut, a night that was ruined when a paparazzi started a story about her having an affair with Tony Stark. This slander reduced her to tears.
Compared to what Ken is going through, MJ’s experience pales in comparison. So why is she so unconcerned about him (let alone his kids) when they are being harassed and in the crosshairs of super villains?
Additionally, Ken and these rich investors are being harassed by people in glorified jetpacks. We see that Ken at least has bodyguards. Can this handful of paparazzi shutterbugs really not be handled by the authorities It’s not like they are particularly stealthy, couldn’t the cops see them flying away and shoot them down? They aren’t wearing armour or anything. And given how they are civilians using illegally obtained military grade hardware isn’t that grounds for getting S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Avengers involved?
I grant you neither Ken nor the investors might be aware the tech is military grade but at the same time that technology is not publically available so surely someone would suspect it’s illegal for them to own and use it? They wouldn’t even need to know that it’s technology used by a confirmed super villain like the Vulture. The mere fact that no civilians have ever used tech like that would be enough grounds for the victims to ask the question at least. Additionally, I don’t know the law of L.A. but isn’t it fairly common in America for someone to use gun or force if their property is invaded? Fuck, they aren’t wearing masks can nobody identify them and report them to the police?
How have these paparazzi losers been evading comeuppance for all this time? Shit, Ken in the above page has a racket, just hit them! One of the investors was shown trying to do just that on the previous page.
And if MJ knows these innocent people are in the crosshairs of super villains why isn’t she doing something to protect them? Call Peter, the Avengers or ask Peter to call Cloak and Dagger again. She’s simply content for these people to be mentally and potentially physically harmed provided it’s for a few more days.
Except it won’t be.
They won’t be safe, merely safer. Even if they wrap up filming in a few ore days, how much longer will it be until they finish post-production and then from there actually release the movie. All the people being harassed will still be in harm’s way for all that time; as will the crew. The Six don’t merely want to stop the film being made. I’m sure Vulture is opposed to anyone being paid to play him on principle. I’m sure he’s opposed to a Mysterio biopic on principle too. But the bigger issue for him is that it will be released to the general public. He’s going to want to stop that and has plenty of time to try.
During this time Ken, the investors, the crew, former crewmembers and the loved ones of all of them (like Aunt May or Aunt Anna) are potentially going to be in harm’s way. There is no guarantee the Six will stop after the film is released either. Surely MJ must consider some of the Six are capable of holding a grudge. If they don’t like something about the movie they may well continue to target anyone who worked on it or was associated with it.
The only ways to serve the greater good here is to either placate the Six somehow (e.g. by not making the movie) or by neutralizing the threat they pose (e.g. by capturing them). Instead MJ and Beck are simply running and hiding when there is no reason or justification for them to do that!
Moving on, the stuff with Diperna is dumb.
Beck claims that ‘Mysterio’ could’ve ended up just like Vulture if circumstances had gone differently. Except…they did. They are both bitter, egotistical, selfish criminal murderers who happen to be genius inventors. It makes sense for Beck to not view it that way of course. Anyone reading the script where Mysterio is framed sympathetically might not even see it that way. But I personally have a suspicion that Williams herself honestly views it that way. As in, she honestly thinks there is a huge difference between where Vulture wound up vs. where Mysterio wound up. There is, but it’s a nuanced difference, not a two sides of the same coin sort of deal.
Finally Diperna is going to a talk show to promote the movie. Isn’t that a massive security risk?
The paparazzi are already hounding him, the Six are after the movie and he’s one of their bigger targets connected to it. He knows this. MJ and Mallorie know this. But they are still going to let him leave the security of the set and go to a location where surely his attendance has been recorded. Or at least some people know about it?
But of course MJ isn’t concerned, merely excited that he’s going to promote the film. The film that’s name dropped again, but still not with it’s full title.
On the next page we see Sonny’s interview; with an obvious Conan O’Brien stand-in.
At the interview the host asks Sonny about the rumours regarding MJ. Apparently, an anonymous source claims she’s a terror to work with on set. Sonny dispels these are totally untrue. This enrages the Six in their hideout, who admit sending blind items to the press about MJ was a dumb idea.
I have to concur with Tarantula, it was a stupid idea. What the Hell was it ever going to accomplish?
Best case scenario, MJ’s reputation gets slandered. Then what? The people working with her will know it’s bullshit and do nothing. MJ herself will know it’s bullshit and maybe get very upset.
But anything beyond that relies upon MJ being so upset she (or a representative of the movie) would appear in person publically. Except MJ is aware the Six are after her and the movie, and the Six know she knows. Therefore no one would appear publically in order to safeguard themselves and the film.
Okay, maybe the Six really believe MJ is that stupid or that incapable of controlling herself. But in this day and age why the Hell would she ever need to appear publicly at all? One social media post or a phone interview would enable her to respond to the rumours. Maybe the Six are hoping for that, the plan being to use technical wizardry to then track down the location of the film somehow.
But the film already has social media accounts. We learned that last issue. Clearly if they have been trying that route it’s not been working. So why would they attempt to coax MJ into posting online? And as for a phone call, there is no indication they’re going to use that to find MJ. It wouldn’t even be a reliable plan as they couldn’t possibly know what journalist she’d talk to and therefore not be prepared to trace the call when it comes in.
No matter how you slice it this plan is idiotic (and thereby out of character for Vulture) and accomplishes nothing beyond being petty.
I’ll also add I am personally not keen on MJ being as famous as she’s being implied to be in this scene. I prefer Peter and MJ to at best be modestly famous if at all. It keeps them more down to Earth that way.
On the next page Vulture implies the asinine slander attempt was probably his idea. He then goes on to claim that aweul rumours would’ve forced MJ to surface. I’ve already addressed why this is dumb and OOC for Vulture.
He then tries (and fails) to justify his almost-as-bad idea of arming the paparazzi to find the set for them. Back on TV, Sonny claims the difference between Mysterio and Vulture in the movie is that Beck cares about redemption whilst Vulture doesn’t. This further fuels my theory that this distinction is Williams’ own perception of the characters.
Also, one of the paparazzi approaches Vulture with a picture that delights the old bird.
On the next page we find ourselves with Peter at an ESU lab, where he answers a call from MJ.
He says he’s not great and very confused. He says it might be confusing for her too depending upon the context of the photo she sent earlier. The photo in question is of MJ in Spider-Man’s costume. MJ explains that she’s filling in for the Spidey actor who quit then tries to explain about working with Mysterio.
Unfortunately something important is happening in the lab and the scientists are demanding Pete’s attention. He asks to leave but reaffirms their arrangement for a video chat the next night. Sadly, MJ says goodbye as Peter hangs up. Just then Beck calls MJ over so they can rehearse her Spidey scene.
They begin with the Electro fight choreography MJ learned earlier. Abruptly the fake Electro attacks surprising MJ.
So let me get this out of the way. I do not know if Gomez or the inkers or the colourists were putting extra effort into these pages or not. Regardless, the result is simply stunning. I’m not being ironic or sarcastic in the slightest. Seeing MJ in Spider-Man’s outfit looks superb and I think Gomez was having fun depicting it. It’s something that cosplayers, fan art and covers have depicted to no end for decades and (IIRC) this is the very first time it’s happened in canon. Maybe that was why these pages pop as much as they do.
Or maybe Williams and/or Gomez just found the idea sexy. The dialogue certainly implies Peter might. Much like issue #1 stuff like this is where Williams on AMJ shines. She can capture many of MJ’s personality traits very well and among those is her flirtatiousness and the sexual chemistry she has with Peter. So kudos on that front.
As for the rest of this page, I should fully disclose I’m woefully behind on my comics. The last ASM storyline I read (as of this writing, but not necessarily of this posting) was the 2099 centric one. So I do not know if Peter’s dialogue is reflecting events that were contemporary at the time of AMJ #4’s release. Nor do I know if it made any huge mistakes in doing so. Maybe the dialogue was supposed to just be funny/cute because seeing MJ dressed as him was weird. Or maybe there is some big event in ASM that has thrown Peter for a loop. I just do not know, so inform me if I’m missing something.
Apart from that there is little to say about these pages. It just represents systemic problems with the story by this point. MJ shouldn’t be lying to Peter. It’s stupid for MJ to be playing Spider-Man.
As the rehearsal continues MJ realises Electro was just an illusion. Mysterio begins lecturing MJ on Electro’s abilities and critiquing her fight choreography, specifically her speed. MJ says she’ll just practice until she can do it as fast as Spidey. Mysterio though lectures that she doesn’t understand how frustrating it is to fight Spider-Man. He begins explaining how he dodges before his opponent commits to an action. How his webbing gives him access to another plane of movement (which MJ chimes in on). How his experience fighting the Sinister Six enable him to predict their movements
However, Beck clarifies that Spidey doesn’t always win because he’s noble and virtuous. Rather because ‘he’s good’. He asks MJ to try fighting again as though she wanted to really win. Mysterio continues to lecture, stating Ock is nothing without his suit so MJ shouldn’t be afraid to get up close and personal. They then begin rehearsing to fight one another, with MJ admitting she can feel Beck pulling his punches. Finally Beck tells MJ that if she compromises Vulture’s harness he’s just a vulnerable old man.
Elsewhere Vulture eyes up Charlie as he walks alone at night. The entirety of the Savage Six (which really seems like overkill) confront him. Charlie folds immediately and promises to tell them where the set is.
The positives of these pages amount to Williams demonstrating a good grasp of some of Spider-Man’s fighting technique. Ironically she echoes some of my own points from parts 21-22.
Let’s also be charitable and say MJ wasn’t being strictly serious when she said she’ll be as fast as Spidey. But if Williams intended that to be serious that’s real silly. No human can be as fast as Spider-Man.
That’s where the positives and charity ends though.
Let’s start with the fact that Mysterio has all this knowledge about the skills of Spidey and his foes. Does MJ not think Beck such a good observer is rather dangerous given his history and abilities?
Isn’t she concerned that someone who has tried to harm her lover on multiple occasions (and is demonstrating such attempts right in front of her) has such knowledge of how he fights? Isn’t she unsettled that he is referring to him as infuriating? Does she not even raise an eyebrow that Beck is showing her all this and has yet to express any remorse towards Spider-Man himself? Spidey being the man he framed as one of his first major crimes and whom he nearly killed in very recent history?
Apparently not.
Furthermore some of his assessments are not accurate.
‘Ock is nothing without his suit’???????
Otto doesn’t wear a suit. He has a harness with tentacles attached. And even if that’s what Williams meant it’d still be wrong. I’m not going to bring up obscure stuff like Otto’s long forgotten force field from the 1990s. Nor even the fact he can still throw a mean punch (see his debut). It’s the fact that the guy is dangerously intelligent. That’s one of the most famous things about him and he even tells you that in his name; Doctor Octopus! How many times has he created an invention or outsmarted his opponents. MJ and Mysterio were both witnesses to his formidable intellect in ‘Ends of the Earth’ alone!
And as for the Vulture, his harness really isn’t everything. He too is clever, crafty, nasty, his wings are razor sharp and his current outfit has equally sharp claws. Anyone just looking at him should be able to tell the strength and flight his harness provides isn’t the only thing that makes him dangerous. I’m also pretty sure that Beck would know enough about Toomes’ personality to know he’s not just a harness old man in a harness, but I admit I can’t think of any examples for that off the top of my head.
The foolishness doesn’t stop there though.
Beck’s off base about Otto and Vulture but also arguably about Spidey as well. He says Spider-Man doesn’t win because he’s noble but because he’s ‘good’. This is a contentious criticism because it depends upon how you interpret that line. Beck/Williams’ intent might’ve been that Spidey is skilled, he is ‘good’ at fighting. Which would be perfectly fair. However, if that was not the intent then the dialogue doesn’t make sense. Being noble/virtuous and being good (morally) equate to functionally the same thing. The writing has been so all over the place in this series I honestly wouldn’t put it beyond Williams to make such a mistake. But even with the benefit of the doubt, she or the editors should have tweaked that line so it’d simply read better and avoid all confusion.
E.g. “But Spider-Man doesn’t win every time because he’s noble and virtuous. He wins because he’s a good fighter.”
Moving on, I already talked about how dumb it is for Beck to not simply use his illusions to finish the movie. But this page really brings it home because he is literally using very convincing illusions of Spider-Man to show MJ what to do. Just use those! Why waste time and effort on practicing with MJ so she can do this when you are obviously going to use your illusions to map over her body anyway?
From MJ’s POV though she’s wasting all this time practicing to film the final scene (which still needs to be finished in post-production). Isn’t that yet more time she’s endangering Ken and his family? More time during which they are coming to some form of harm? By convincing him to use his illusions she’ll speed up the process a lot and thus reduce the time they are at risk. But she’s been selfish throughout this whole amn story so why stop now I guess.
And hey, it’s not like the process is taking as long as it realistically should take. Just look at how quickly MJ has learned fight choreography and how to move like a gymnast. That last pose is very impressive for someone with no super powers, no formal training in gymnastics and at best some very basic self-defence classes…God…
If Beck wants someone who can nail fight choreography, move fast, gets what it’s like to fight Spider-Man and is agile why not use Screwball?! She’s been performing gymnastic moves for no reason in almost every one of her scenes. True, she has a female body build, but so does MJ!
Finally, Vulture targeting Charlie is a perfect illustration of what I’ve spoken about before. Charlie was a loose end Beck and MJ idiotically left dangling. Shit, Charlie himself was a moron for not considering he’d be a target.
So all in all this issue was another fine fucking mess.
I’m not even morbidly curious as to how the arc will end next issue. I just want to get it over with.
P.S. Peter still hasn’t shown up in spite of six of his enemies being very publicly on the loose and nearby his girlfriend.
P.P.S. The fact that MJ’s scene as Spidey involves her just doing action stuff further proves how they never needed someone who could really act. Just someone who could pull off stunt work. Making MJ’s role as Spidey even more redundant.
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#Leah Williams#Amazing Mary Jane#mjwatsonedit#mary jane watson#Mary Jane Watson Parker#MJ Watson#Carlos Gomez#Mysterio#Quentin Beck#Spider-Man#Peter Parker
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TCGF+SV AU
Or basically, an Au i’m never going to actually write, but post snipets off because it’s fun. I’ve seen lots of BingQiu adopting little WWX, and i raise you, XL adopting little LBH. This Au works within the assumption that all MXTX novels hapen in the same universe, but different continents. Also, this first part doesn’t tell you much, next one to follow shortly, be ware of knives.
Part 2: HERE
1- Luo BingHe's suffering
Luo BingHe was an orphan raised by a washerwoman. He was an orphan, abandoned by the Luo river, left to be carried by the currents and meet the fate the heavens had planned for him. His adoptive mother- His mother, was a sweet and caring woman, who had not even enough to feed herself and worked to the bone everyday, but even so took him in and cherished him as her own flesh and blood.
He was raised poor, but loved.
As soon as he was old enough to understand the world, his mind was filled with the tought that he wished he could do more for her, make it so their lives wouldn't be so harsh. He owed it to her. She would bring back from the house she served in all the leftover food, given to her when she begged enough. They would give her the oldest and most worn out books and permitted her to take them home if she worked twice as hard the next few days.
She would grovel and kneel, asking for the scraps of cloth the young masters no longer used, saying she needed to make some robes for winter or she would freeze to death. The household master only agreed to stop hearing her babbling, always making sure he got something in return, of course. Everytime his mother came back with bruises on her wrists and a pale face, Luo BingHe wanted nothing more than to disappear, so she wouldn't have to suffer like this.
All the scraps of food were for him. The books, she gave to him so he learnt to read and write, hoping he could be better than her, who never had the chance to stop being illiterate. The scraps of cloth were woven into simple winter robes that he wore so as to not freeze to death, his mother's touch in every stitch and flower embroidered on his sleeves.
Everything she did, she did for him. And he yearned for the day when he would stop being a burden. That was why, when he was five, he ran to the streets and began doing anything he could to bring back whatever he could get his hands on; food, clothes, wood to fix their ceiling, anything was fine. He didn't care if he had to beg, or cry, or steal.
He was willing to do anything to help the only family he ever had.
More often than not, stores would let him take the nearly spoiled ingredients or the scraps that were about to be tossed out, and he learnt that his skills in cooking were good. Luo BingHe taught himself to write, read, and perfected his kitchen techniques over the course of a year, his books a great help.
Although he usually didn't have many ingredients, his talent was obvious. His dishes always tasted delicious, and his mother always smiled and praised him when she ate his food. It made him extremely happy. Happy enough that he didn't notice the signs that something was wrong until it was too late.
One day everything was fine, and then it wasn't.
His mother died, utterly exhausted, alone in their home when he went to beg to the household master for a bowl of congee, worried for his mother's thin body. He hadn't been able to gather any food lately, people storing even the smallest of scraps for winter, so his only choice was to cry and beg at his mother's employer for some food, even just a little.
He was denied. And when he returned home, the cold, lifeless body of his mother was what greeted him. He stood still for what seemed like hours, and then cried for so long he didn't know if it was days, or weeks. When he was clear-headed enough to steady himself, he found out his mother had left him a small letter and a jade pendant.
The letter said to sell the pendant to buy food and survive, to look for a job and do whatever he needed to do to keep on living. She told him she loved him, that he was her son, and she was really proud of him. Luo BingHe knew that this letter wasn't written by her, she'd probably paid someone to write it in her stead. And that only meant she knew she was going to die soon, and she'd said nothing.
The feeling in his gut couldn't be explained in words. It was stronger than guilt. It hurt.
He ignored his mother's wishes and tried to sell the pendant to arrange a funeral for her. The store owner just threw him out, called him a swindler, sneered at his face, and told him to get lost. Luo BingHe returned home like a drifting spirit, empty and soulless.
'I cannot even give my mother a worthy funeral.' He lamented and wept, kowtowing by her bed in repentance. In the end, he had to take her out himself, and bury her under the tree in the small backyard, with only a wooden scrap with her written name to mark the place where she would forever rest. It took him all evening to do it, and, by the time he was done, it was already night, the cold biting at his skin, the stench of his own vomit making him want to gag once more.
After that, life was harsher than even before. He was left alone, too young to properly take care of himself in any way that was useful. He was only six and a half, no one would hire him, and with time, people were less and less willing to give him food as winter came full-force, and the other street rats had their eyes on him, hateful stares in the direction of the one stealing their meals.
Still, he would try everyday, then return to his run-down house, nearly frozen by the low temperature, hungry and cold and wondering if he would survive to see spring. His hut had leaks, and the rain got in, making everything moldy and humid as he slept on the floor, unable to bring himself to lay on the bed that was his mother's last resting place.
There was always a draft when the wind blew, and the chill seemed to have gotten under his skin and into his bones. He couldn't find warmth no matter how much he tried, he was weak and powerless and tired. He thought things couldn't get worse. And then a flood came and his only home was swept away by the current, leaving him on the streets and with nothing but the clothes on his body and the jade pendant his mother gave him.
Things only got worse from there on out.
The orphaned kids on the streets were ruthless, they hit him and slandered him, kicked and punched and wounded him in every way possible, be it physical or mental. He was beaten black and blue, chased from alleys and corners, unable to rest and growing more and more weary by the day. He didn't know how he did it, but he managed to live for a year, doing things he'd never thought of doing, whatever dignity he had left trampled under his own foot as he tried to fulfil his mother's last wish: survive.
He'd managed to avoid those street rats well enough, being smarter than them and finding hiding places they could only dream off. He'd barely seen them once a week or so, moving from one end of the city to another, never staying in the same spot. After so long, he thought he'd grown numb, that nothing could hurt anymore.
And then they spoke ill of his mother, and he snapped.
Something inside him broke, like a dam, and a current swept by his body and veins, making him burn and thrum with energy, his forehead feeling like the sun was scorching his skin, but the sky was cloudy. The kids started screaming that he was a demon, that he had red eyes, and the adults came instantly running- Not out of fear for the kids that had no one to care for them, but for the possibility of someone dangerous nearby.
They brandished knives and sickles, sticks and stones, and approached him as they shouted and yelled that he was a monster, their eyes filled with hate and disgust. Luo BingHe didn't know what was going on, he turned his head and saw a mark shining bright red like blood being reflected on a piece of glass, felt the wisps of dark energy swirl around his body and felt his breath leave him.
The villagers were eager to kill him, shouting 'monster', 'demon', 'abomination'. They surrounded him as he screamed, his body littered with cuts and stabs that would begin to heal as soon as they were inflicted, only prompting the villagers to cut him more, hit him more, stab deeper, harder, not letting him time to breathe.
He cried and begged, pleaded for mercy, but no one listened to him.
It hurt. It hurt so much. He just wanted it to stop.stop.stop.STOP.
Something burst, lashing out and breaking both his body and the earth under his back. The sky lit up with flames, people screamed and shouted and ran, and Luo BingHe's vision filled with red, then black. By his side, a dark swirl gurgled and dripped, like ink slowly tainting the floor, coating it in a syrupy liquid that sizzled as it made contact. Nothing could be seen inside this space, and no sound seemed to come from it. It was just pitch black nothingness, like an abyss.
Curses came anew, the people were regaining their wits and approaching him again, ignoring the rift that floated right besides his body. Maybe they can't see it? Was what he thought. But he had no time to ponder over this. The villagers, now fueled by anger and fear, ran at him with the intention to run him through.
On one side, he had a hateful mob ready to torture and kill him. On the other, a mysterious and ominous portal that could lead to instant death. Presented with a slow and painful death filled with endless suffering and the possibility of immediate relief, Luo BingHe chose instant death, and immediately leap through the rift, disappearing without a trace.
The shadows swallowed him whole, and he blacked out.
He thought he would die, but when he opened his eyes, he found himself in a place he didn't recognize, rain hitting his face, laying on an empty alley littered with countless cloth and scraps, proof that other beggars lived there. The roofs were different from what he was accustomed to, the windows bigger and rounder, and when he staggered to a main street, he found out the faces that passed by were unknown to him, new.
He was in a city he didn't recognize, but that was a good thing. He covered his forehead with his messy hair, tried to cover his wounds with his tattered robes as he felt how they slowly healed, and plopped down on the corner of an alley, waiting for his body to stop hurting so he could go and beg for food.
His body never did stop hurting, and he rarely slept. Everytime someone tried to be gentle with him, he brushed them away and ran, hoarding his food and water and trying his best to keep himself alive, trusting no one. That alley became his home for the foreseeable future, a place to return to in which he stayed for a long six months.
One would say he adapted very fast, but after all, homeless was homeless. The streets were the streets. The city didn't matter. It was the same eveywhere.
Nothing changed.
Until it did.
#tian guan ci fu#tgcf#heaven official's blessing#scum villain#svsss#scum villain's self-saving system#au#fanfiction#snippets#crossover#xie lian#luo binghe#it doesn't seem like it#but its LBH centric#not an actual fic#just parts of my idea for it#do with this what u will#天官赐福#人渣反派自救系统
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Day 4: New Prefects
Featuring my Ravenclaw fem!MC and inspired by the crazy spoiler that our MCs automatically get prefect over Rowan
-
“Rowan, I’m so sorry. Reallyyy sorry.”
“It’s fine. Really. I’m fine” Rowan was clearly not fine.
“I’ll be back as soon as possible, I swear.” Anya looked over her best friend. Since Anya had been appointed Ravenclaw prefect, Rowan, positive she was to be the prefect, had been a mess.
“I’ll be fine, Anya, don’t worry about me.” At least I’ll be able to get a head start on on my studies, Rowan thought as she traced the Astronomy textbook in her lap. “Ben’s with me anyway. I’m fine.”
With one last worried glance, Anya left Rowan and Ben in their train carriage and headed to the prefects’ meeting. Rowan had barely opened her book when the door to her carriage opened and a head of bubblegum pink hair peeked in.
“Oi, found us a cart! Rowan and Ben are here!” Tonks called out to the others as she sat down across from Rowan. Tulip, Barnaby, and Liz followed, leaving the carriage a tad cramped. Noise soon filled the compartment, between Tulip and Barnaby arguing over whether a manticore or a dragon would win in a fight and Tonks and Liz in deep conversation over the latest edition of the Quibbler.
Looks like I won’t be getting any studying done after all, Rowan sighed.
-
Anya was walking to the back of the train when she bumped into Charlie, also walking back to the meeting.
“Charlie! How was your summer?”
“Not bad, thanks! The best part was definitely when you all visited.” Charlie ran his hair through his ponytail. “Where are you off to?”
“I reckon the same place as you.”
“You’re a prefect?!” Charlie failed to hide the surprise in his voice.
“I’m so glad you’re confident in my abilities.” Anya joked back.
“It’s not that- I just figured Rowan would be the Ravenclaw prefect.” Charlie blushed as he tried covering his tracks.
“That’s what we all thought, I bet. She won’t say, but I know she’s crushed. I hope she’s okay without me…”
-
Rowan wouldn’t quite say she was okay. Her wish for a peaceful train ride to distract her from the lack of a badge on her uniform was foiled.
“Rowan, why aren’t you at the prefects’ meeting? And where’s Anya?” Barnaby asked innocently, not noticing the salt he was heaping in the wound.
“Anya is at the prefect meeting. Not me.”
“What?!” Barnaby’s eyes just about popped out of his head.
“You mean Anya Wilkes got prefect over you? Even I’m surprised.” Tulip chimed in.
“You alright, Rowan?” Tonks reached out and touched Rowan on the shoulder.
“I’m fine.” Rowan didn’t dare say anymore, in case she accidentally slandered her best friend or cried.
“At least now you have more time to help me study.” Barnaby failed in his attempt to cheer Rowan up.
“Welcome to the rejects, Rowan Khanna. We may be less glamorous but we have a lot more fun.” Tulip smiled mischievously.
-
The group of six was in the middle of a rousing game of Uno, a muggle cards game Ben taught them.
“Draw six? Who do you think you are?”
“Dammit, I haven’t got any more blue.”
“Uno!”
The door slid open to reveal Anya and Andre.
“Blimey, what are you all being so loud for?” Anya questioned.
“You prefects are gonna have to find another compartment, we’re all full in here.” Tulip smirked.
“We actually came here to ask you all to keep the volume down. Official prefect business.” Andre explained.
“Give it a rest, you two.” Everyone was shocked to hear those words come from Rowan Khanna, lover of rules and order. Anya almost retorted, before seeing Rowan’s face as the game resumed. She looked worry-free and happy, a first since Anya received her prefect badge in the mail. Her heart warmed seeing her best friend lifted from her despair.
“Let’s leave ‘em alone, Andre. We’ll find another compartment.”
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Prompt? Garak and Parmak are in exile and happily together on DS9. How does their wooing of Bashir go?
OT3 humor (plus my Bolian OC) coming up!
First Contact
“Are you sure it isn’t suppose to be The Fornby Project?” Parmak had asked the question innocently enough to the Bolian completing the set up of goods right outside the entry to the shop. The newcomer had enlisted Parmak’s help in hanging the mysterious curtain leading to the shop inside. That comment unfortunately had seemed to put up a wall between their positive interaction following as the Bolian, Ziw Tralar informed him sounding annoyed that the “other skinny overly pedantic doctor” had said the same. Parmak wasn’t quite sure what other doctor that was until he learned later of another Federation transfer expected to join him. Parmak had tried to apologize for any slight. He’d been trying to work on his Federation Standard starting with the basics and he thought he remembered that words used some sort of “the”, “a”, “an” or something. His vocabulary was sadly eons behind.
Ziw had given him a measured look when they finished deciding with a bit of a strange expression that even if Parmak was apparently just as ill mannered as every other Cardassian he’d ever met, at least he had the decent to appear contrite, so he gifted him with several books. First and foremost was a book that Ziw assured him was full of useful old Standard greetings that he should take note of. Parmak had discovered to his delight while offering his assistance that the eccentric “Fornby Project” a few stores down from Garak’s, contained a wide variety of old books. The old texts were one of his true loves though Garak often despaired at the volume of Parmak’s “collection”.
Parmak was curious about the new medical team as he later parsed the book of idioms. He knew that the Federation was bringing a medical team per protocol but he had yet to meet any of them. He didn’t exactly see the need for them protocols aside. Nurse Jabara too had commented on the Federation thinking they were the only power in the quadrant capable of diplomacy. Parmak laughed as she said it, being that she was currently performing a check up on one of the Starfleet ensigns. While Parmak agreed, he had to politely demur. It was the logical assumption that there would be resentment from the Bajorans directed towards the two Cardassians on station, especially a doctor. Still, it would have been nice had anyone thought to ask his patients what they thought.
As far as the Bajorans and previous Cardassian occupiers knew, Parmak and Garak were both exiles due to their anti occupation leanings and revolutionary activities. That may have been true in Parmak’s case, but Garak rather was only there because he refused flat out to torture his lover even under threat of death. Death for Garak would have been preferable to exile but well, at least they had managed to foster rather positive working relationships with everyone on station. Even if Garak was quite vocal in private on how irritating it was to hear the constant racial slander always followed by “but of course you and Doctor Parmak are nothing like them.”
“Do you get fries with that shake?” Parmak puzzles over that one in present time, repeating the words, checking his diction against the computer. It’s a Federation System and takes some getting used to, but he and Garak have been adapting.
“Are you still at that?” he hears Garak ask, coming into the room looking particularly well put together. Hmm, it seems Garak too has caught wind of the new Federation Doctor. From some of the gossip around the station that Parmak’s heard, the new Chief Medical Officer Doctor Julian Bashir is a young handsome man with no known attachments. One of his and Garak’s former partners, a dashing and considerate young Bajoran named Teja, was keen to let him know with a suggestive wink that the doctor was definitely “their type”.
“Are you an angel? Because you must have fallen from heaven…” Parmak mumbles to himself, repeating the sounds as best as he can. Yes, he absolutely is “still at that”. Thirty six hours from learning of Doctor Bashir, and finally seeing a picture hasn’t been nearly enough time to gain proficiency in a new language but it absolutely is enough time to try and memorize a few greetings from the old book. It took him just that long to understand the thing they call romanized script well enough to pronounce the words. He’ll leave the definitions for later. Perhaps Doctor Bashir can teach them…
“Did you hear that he’s a xenobiologist?” Parmak asks, looking up to Garak with a wicked gleam in his eyes as he pushes his glasses back up on his face. Garak snorts as he sits down and neatly plucks the book from Parmak’s hands idly thumbing through it. “Do you suppose that it ah… has the same implications as it does back home?” That gives Garak pause as he checks to make sure he’s holding the book the proper way.
“You realize Kelas, and forgive me if this sounds uncharitable, that the primary cause of the xenobiology field becoming synonymous with ‘alien fucker’ back home originated solely with you.”
“I think you’re giving me far too much credit, Elim,” Parmak replies, absently toying with the end of his long braid. “I noticed you’re wearing one of your new pieces. Were you planning on going somewhere without me?”
“I am aware that you have no true appreciation for the craft of subtlety, but I thought perhaps a little reconnaissance might be in order.” Garak holds up the book pointing to the shortest phrase on the page. Parmak is still somewhat mystified that Federation Standard has so many types of greetings, and he’s been somewhat at a loss to decide on the best one. The Bolian had informed him primly that since he had “all the answers” where Federation Standard was concerned he could very well figure it out for himself. “This is the shortest one so it might be the easiest to recall.”
“Is that supposed to be a slight on my age?” Parmak asks snatching the book back, giving Garak a smack on the knee with it.
“I would hardly cache your age as slight,” Garak answers with a tug to Parmak’s long, white, plait of hair. Parmak pauses, reading that fire in Garak’s expression trying not to smile. Garak had used to lament that his ability to properly engage in a good bit of flirtatious banter was permanently damaged from all of his off world fraternizing, but Parmak has had a good several years now to work on it with his husband. He gives Garak’s stomach a little poke in return.
“Mmm, we shouldn’t speak then of things that aren’t slight,” he answers, letting a book drop a moment. It’s all lies and misdirection. Garak is delightfully thick, and Parmak was born with white hair, but it’s fun.
Perhaps there’s a renewed vigor between them as well, when Parmak decides that Garak’s dapper new creation deserves a bit of dishevelment and they both agree that Doctor Bashir can wait one more day before a proper introduction.
---
“It’s Doctor Bashir, isn’t it?” Garak asks as soon as he sidles up to the table, Parmak hovering just off to the side. Parmak thinks the young human is at least twice as easy on the eyes as Teja had said. Really, Parmak is surprised that Teja didn’t go after the doctor himself but Parmak has never been one to question good fortune. He remains smiling politely, sadly not dressed anywhere near as smartly dressed for his shift later, as Garak continues. “Of course it is. May I introduce myself?”
Parmak notices that the doctor’s eyes get wide, the size of dilated dinner plates as he looks between the two of them. Oh dear, perhaps Teja had been spreading stories after all.
“Uh yes… yes of course,” Doctor Bashir answers not looking the least bit excited. Parmak wishes he didn’t look so nervous because it’s making Parmak nervous and Garak just soldiers on his usual engaging self. It’s entirely unfair, he thinks as he tries to recall any of the dozen phrases he’d memorized out of the book the last few days.
He notices that Garak is also taking a seat, taking the lead in this, and taking Parmak into the deep waters where he usually doesn’t tread. Well really, if Garak had wanted to work alone he could’ve said something, because now that Parmak recalls the earlier conversation, Garak had likely only passive aggressively agreed.
“My name is Garak; Cardassian by birth, obviously. This is my husband Kelas,” comes seemingly as an afterthought, leaving Parmak to shuffle around, push his glasses back up, and try and decide if he ought to steal another chair from somewhere or just sit on Garak’s lap.
“We’re the only two of us left on the station, as a matter of fact. So we appreciate making new friends when we can.” Garak looks up to him now, clearly passing this bit off to him and he sort of wants to get close enough to step on Garak’s foot because this is all so sudden and he doesn’t have half of Garak’s charm or ease of tongue. Doctor Bashir is also still completely ill at ease which is clearly amusing Garak but only making Parmak’s inclination towards empathy entirely out of sorts. Garak is expectant, needling him even further with that wicket serpent’s grin. “Oh come now, my dear Kelas, don’t be so shy. I know you were just aching to introduce yourself to Doctor Bashir without the - what did you call it? - formal trappings of the office?”
Garak is radiating smug at that easy lie, and Parmak is going to kill him tonight, doctor’s oath be damned. He clears his throat, sure his smile doesn’t look nearly as coy or practiced as Garak’s as he stammers and tries to remember everything he’d taught himself and picked up from Ziw.
“Perhaps you might take the opportunity to demonstrate one of the charming little phrases you’ve been working so hard on. You really should hear him, doctor. My Kelas has the delightful dulcet tones of an Andorran songbird.” A songbird who’s going to peck Garak’s eyes out, Parmak decides as his eyes dart everywhere but Julian’s face as he tries to pull something out of that blank page.
By some miracle of the ancients, his eyes catch one of Julian’s black shoes from under the table, bringing forth, as Garak had suggested from the outset the simplest and shortest phrase that he’d memorized so far. Well then, they’re going to see who looks stupid now when Parmak beams at Julian and slams both hands on the table just as Ziw had taught him by way of greeting.
“Nice shoes!” Parmak exclaims, hoping that his cadence and tone are at least passable. “Wanna fuck?”
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WELCOME!!
WARNING: Near the end, talk of depression, implied talk of suicide and hurting yourself. (I never hurt myself, just so you know.)
Hello one and all!
This is my new blog for caregivers. It’s a little inspired by some website I ran across around 2007, the year after I first started caregiving for my mom. (War flashbacks.) The site had funny jokes and things, intended for something for caregivers to do when they’re relaxing. I thought I’d do a similar idea, and throw in what I’ve learned over 10 years, (16 years this year), of doing this. Everyone needs a break sometimes.
About my experience (long!): My mom had multiple sclerosis for a long time. I remember her symptoms were starting to hit hard when I was in JR. high, but I think she first developed the disease in the late 80s or early 90s. For most of my life, we thought it was what’s called remitting-recurring, but it was primary progressive, which is just what it means. Her health declined over time. She went from walking, to being bedridden in 2006 sometime after a bad fall, with canes, wheelchairs and walkers in between. There was also this whole thing in 2005 when we were taking on a job and the stress may have brought on a flare up for her. We were never really sure. Unfortunately, her neurologist was frighteningly old. To this day I don’t know why she picked him. I will always blame him for misdiagnosing her, and I don’t even remember what the guys name was.
So, longer story, eventually her legs just gave out, but it got worse. She stopped eating and talking. As it turned out, her GP was on maternity leave, and on top of that, it took the better part of six months to even get her admitted into the hospital. I know, it all sounds scary and it was scary. During those months BEFORE the hospital, I was sinking into depression and so was she. There was a lot of crying involved. (Also an incident where our roof was leaking and we had to stay at a hotel. Fun times (sarcasm.) I have mentally blocked a lot of it out, but that’s what happens with traumatic events. Your brain is so in shock, you’re so in shock, that your brain deletes those files. And that’s okay, for the most part. If you remember the basics of how you started caregiving and what’s going on with your “patient”, you don’t have to give doctors and nurses every single detail.
After she was finally admitted (and frick that whole hospital by the way), it was months she was there. We thought the worst was going to happen. Eventually she was released, and that’s when the denial started. You see, there’s things you don’t think about and no one tells you. When you’re 22, you don’t think about caregiving. And you don’t think about how the months your relative was drugged up on painkillers and how it’ll effect them after months. So, my mom came out of the hospital...how to put this...out of it and not there mentally. Like someone with Alzheimer's I guess. She was talking again, here and there, but everything was off. This lasted for months and we had no clue what to do. Eventually, we got her to her doctor, now back from maternity leave, and I asked about it. Her answer? “The (name of drugs) have been absorbed by the fat in her arms and that’s why she’s acting like this.” What the actual frick? So, more months of being lost and no answer if she was going to be like that forever or what. Cue sometime later and we’re having nurses come in. This nurse suggests putting her on X drug to stabilize her mind or whatever. (I can’t remember exactly what was said, it was so long ago.) I was ecstatic, but I was also in denial. I thought one day she was going to pull out of it and be back to normal mentally. Not sure if I felt the same about her maybe walking again, but it’s a moot point. So, got her on it, and it worked. She was now making more sense, but pretty euphoric all the time. Chatty. And eating again and off the feeding tube. (Yep, that happened.) I forgot to mention that she has dementia, but it’s not “true” dementia. As far as we can tell, the MS and lack of food just ate away at her brain, so brain damage.
So, things progressed and life went on. In situations like this, life does tend to get worse though. My attitude changed a lot. I went from being angry and depressed all the time to being less angry and sad sometimes. (I suspect-surprise-I may have functioning depression.) But my mom is miles from where she was. She doesn’t talk as much to us, but you get a new person in the room and they ask her the right questions, she’s awake and wants to talk. A year ago, she didn’t have ticks, but now she sucks in her lips about every three seconds. (I’ll be honest, it drives me insane.) I know she is bored, but her eyesight isn’t that great (nearsighted), and her hands are failing her to the point where we have to feed her if it’s not a finger food. And, as you may know, it’s hard to keep a bedridden or old person awake for long. If she’s tired, there’s no fighting it. I have tried to provide her with puzzles and things, but it depends on the time of day and how awake she is. I have NO IDEA how to keep her entertained. She used to love reading, but you hand her a magazine and she just stares at the cover. How do you entertain someone who can barely see with weak hands who wants to sleep all day? I’m still figuring that out. (I’ve looked at suggestions online, but haven’t done a lot of them. But, she does like music and listens to the TV more than really watches. That’s another thing, she’s gotten to the point where she repeats random things from shows. I’m not sure why, guess it’s just the degeneration.
And as for me, I take it one day at a time. We’ve had 100+ nurses over the years, and our latest is a gem. Some nurses were “okay” to “Please stay forever, here’s a bonus”. My point with that is, I have so many stories I want to get out, but I’m not sure if that’s slander even if you keep the person anonymous. Back to me, I’m less upset, but I have a lot of resentment. I find it very hard to connect with my mom again. She doesn’t remember me at all, thinking I’m her mom (whut?) or her sister. (I look nothing like her actual sister.) So, the repeating soundtrack in my head is that my mother is gone. It’s heartbreaking, I know. It’s horrible. But horrible things happen. I’m still here. Like most caregivers, in the beginning I had a lot of bad thoughts and they scared me, but I wasn’t in so deep to want to act or hurt myself. Sure, I was miserable, but I had no outlet and many of my friends around my age at the time were, for the most part, not my friends. (Three of them got married in like the first five years I’d started caregiving. Never heard from them after that. That’s another rant I held with me for a long time after.)
I have repeated my mom’s story to various doctors, nurses, and inquiring friends over the years. Now I’m sharing it with the internet. If you’re a caregiver, you’re not alone, even if you feel like it. There’s thousands of us in the US, of various ages, and probably millions more the world over. (It’s popular in Asian countries for the elderly parents to live at home.) I encourage you to have an outlet. Forums, support groups, chat rooms, it’s all out there. I don’t do forums anymore for the most part, but I enjoy a good twitter rant or just a good cry. And, of course, I believe in prayer and recommend it.
My mom is 65. She used to be a nurses assistant. She liked British sitcoms, music, movies, loved reading, animals and spending time with my dad and family.
I’m almost 36. I’ve been taking care of her since I was 22. I like anime, drawing, reading, and lots of other stuff. I’m strong and you are too. Rely on others, take breaks, connect with your charge the best you can and you’ll get through this.
Avatar is from: https://www.freepik.com/free-vector/set-card-people-various-occupations-take-photo-id-cartoon-character-isolated-flat-illustration_13330845.htm
#my story#my life#hospitals#multiple sclerosis#doctors#nurses#medical caregiving#illness#chronic sickness#chronic#dementia#bedridden#sad#feelings#emotions#new blog
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What Jury Duty reminded me:
In the United Stares, you, victim or accused, have a right to a fair trial. You are considered innocent of a crime that you’re accused of until you are tried and convicted in a court of law. It is up to the prosecution to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt (not a ‘shadow of a doubt’ like in the moves) using evidence they have gathered.
I wanted to get out of jury duty, trust me, I did but this was an experience I think everyone needs to go through, especially for those who believe the accuser immediately instead of approaching the issue on neutral ground.
I feel not many people understand this anymore and it struck me like a ton of bricks. A trial by social media is a witch hunt that tends to ignore the accused in favor for the accuser, which in turn, causing the accused to become a victim because of sheer ignorance. I can think of several people right off the bat who were slapped with an accusation only and social media condemned them the moment it was uttered with no or very shaky evidence. Common sense flies out the window. Emotion over logic, unfortunately. Can’t use both at the same time.
Don’t automatically side with the accuser or the accused just because they’re emotional. Everyone is capable of lying no matter what age they are or how ‘truthful’ they seem. People have been known to lie out of spite or have been bribed. Personally, I’ve had abuse accusations against myself by my younger siblings, ages six to thirteen, during my parents’ divorce that I knew wasn’t true. Thankfully the court used common sense where others around me didn’t ��because a child would never lie’. It’s as bad as saying a cop will never lie. We later found out that they were being bribed with toys and electronics that they never recieved to say those things, not only against me, but also against Mom. What’s worse, her ex decided to air their dirty laundry to everyone at their local church who jumped on the train with him and wouldnt listen to reason. It’s never fun to be accused of something that isn’t true or being called a liar by those who already passed judgement with no evidence. The people who judged me before won’t face me now. Neither with my mom’s ex. They’ll scurry off, possibly in fear that I will tell them off but I’m over it.
Accusers need to stop rushing to social media without going to law enforcement first or allowing law enforcement to do their job. They can be slapped with defamation of character if the accused decides to take them to court for damages the accusation caused or held in contempt if they’re not careful. It doesn’t matter if the victim was right either. With social media, it’s relatively easy to prove slander/libel when you haven’t been conviced in a court of law. We had some sensitive family issues a while back and were told not to discuss what was going on with no one by law enforcement for that reason. We were told to keep our mouths shut to outsiders so an investigation could be launched. If they told us this for what we went through, I’m sure it would be like that elsewhere.
All in all, it was a real learning experience. The judges didn’t want to mess around with heresay. They were sure to ask hard hitting questions to make you start wondering about how guilty you were of accusing others without evidence or on heresay alone. The lawyers were real enough to tell us that they make mistakes too and told us to call them on it if we catch them. Judging others of crimes they’re only accused of is a disgusting habit people have if you honestly think about it. I know I’ve done it to people in the past. It leaves a bad taste n my mouth. Thankfully, I’m more neutral than anything now. Logic over emotion, most times. I’m still human.
#Jury duty#This was heavy#And a wake up call#Sometimes though#I think this system can bite us in the ass#I'm finally feeling back to what's normal for me now
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Lies and Slander
Prompt: Sebastian losing his when when you kick him out after a big fight, and threatinging to never come back ( @theartofimagining13 ) & An outrageous scandal starts when after being provoked by a reporter, Sebastian finally snaps and starts spilling the tea on everything that led to your breakup and how you ended up leaving him for Tom. When tom hears this, he’s so incredibly mad you have to stop him from going after Sebastian. (from @theartofimagining13
Word Count: 1576
Warnings: Fighting, language, mentions of cheating, mental abuse...
Notes: I put two prompts in one. I MAY do a second part, not sure. Y’all lemme know. Beta’d by my wonderful partner in crime @like-a-bag-of-potatoes
Tags: @topthis808 @amarvelouswritings @cocosierra94 @tacohead13
~~~~~~~~~
“Kneel, woman!” was read on your phone as you giggled. You were working with Tom on the new Thor movie and he was sending you a few jokes.
“What’s so funny?” Sebastian, your boyfriend of eight months asked innocently as he sat on the other end of the couch, channel flipping. He had semi-moved in after six-months and quickly it was a disaster. Every time you were texting or calling, he demanded to know who it was with. If you went out with friends he wanted proof you weren’t the only girl. He never trusted you and was becoming too controlling and you were fighting about it a lot.
“Oh, just Tom. We’re having a conversation in character sort of,” you explained, the light still in your face.
“Yeah? Let me see,” he said, his tone turning serious as he reached for your phone. You pulled it away.
“No, it’s my phone. My private conversation with Tom.”
“Excuse me? What’s yours is mine,” he said.
“Uh, no. That’s not how this works, Sebastian,” you countered, astounded at his audacity .
A dark look crossed Sebastian’s face. “Give me your damned phone, Y/N. What are you really laughing about?”
“That’s it?” you said as if it was stupid to be lying about that. The inflection in your voice made it sound like a question, because it was. In your mind, you were wondering what else you could be laughing about.
“It can’t be that funny. And if it is, you need to share with the class.” He lunged at your hands and you pulled away.
“Sebastian, stop it!” you ordered as you jumped up from the couch, your hands clenching into fists. “This is stupid! I can’t even text my friend without getting the third degree from you.”
“Because you’re not being honest with me! If you had nothing to hide, you’d show me your phone.”
“That’s not how this works! You should trust me! This isn’t a prison. I shouldn’t have to turn my phone into you for you to deem what I’m saying as okay.”
You were shaking your head and trembling from anger as your face turned red.
“And you shouldn’t be flirting with every fucking dude you work with!” he shouted.
You looked at him as if he lost his mind. “I don’t! We’re just friends. I don’t accuse you of sleeping with all of your coworkers!”
“Because I can be trusted!”
“Oh and I can’t?!” you screamed. At this point, both of your blood pressures were way too high, with red faces, bulging neck veins, and hostile body language.
“No, obviously fucking not!”
“Fuck you, Stan!” you said as you started to stalk into the kitchen.
“Where are you going?” he demanded.
“The kitchen. Is that okay, sir?” you spat.
“No. No it’s not okay, Y/N. You need to calm the hell down.”
“Me?” you gasped as you rounded around the couch toward the kitchen. “You’re the controlling asshole.”
“I only do that so I can trust you. Y/N since we’ve been dating you’ve had your nose in your phone. You’re constantly texting other guys. Hell on date night you can’t leave your phone alone.”
“That’s not true,” you argued, crossing your arms. “I text my family and my girl friends more than I text Tom or Chris.”
“You shouldn’t be texting them at all,” he countered.
“What the hell? I’m not six. I can have guy friends, you fucking idiot.”
“Oh, so now I'm an idiot because I don’t want you fucking every other dude?”
“Yeah! Because I’m not some slut! Jesus, Sebastian, if you think that lowly of me, you should just leave.”
“You can’t be serious,” he argued.
“Oh, I’m very serious. I’m sick of this shit. I can’t even laugh without this turning into a god damn fight. I can’t do this any more. You need to just...get out. Just leave.”
“Really? You’re picking him over me?” he asked, his jaw setting, his eyes on yours, a darkness in them.
“I’m not picking anyone. I’m asking you to leave.”
“Fine. But if you force me to walk out that door, I might never come back,” he said in a threatening tone as he grabbed his faded jean jacket off the hook.
“Good! Leave!”
He nodded a curt nod, his lower lip prisoner by his upper teeth, and slammed the door, making you jump.
---------------------------------------
Four months had passed since the night of that breakup. You didn’t think you wanted to break up, but you knew Sebastian would never stop being jealous and turning controlling so it was for the best.
You’d spoken to him maybe twice after that. Once for when he came to pick up the small amount of his things at your place. Another time when you awkwardly said hi to each other at a Marvel event.
You had immediately called Tom that night, telling him what transpired. He was understanding, kind, gentle. He was your rock for about two months. He took you on a bunch of little “friend dates” around town to take your mind off the relationship that had just ended. But in all honesty, it wasn’t hard getting over Sebastian. He was becoming an ass and you had had that sort of shit before and you weren’t about to mope about missing it.
It wouldn’t take a psychic to see that there was something special between you and Tom. Pretty soon, from working together all the time, him being your best friend, and taking you on the little dates, it quickly turned to real dates. He was there to pick up what little pieces you had from the shitty fall out with Seb. So now, here you were, two months strong in an official relationship, but you’d been closer for much longer.
You and Tom were at Comic-Con, signing autographs together when a fan came up and asked if you had heard what Seb had said about you.
“Uh..no?” you answered, glancing to Tom.
“Oh, you may want to check out his Twitter,” they said before they were told to start wrapping it up.
“Thanks,” you said absentmindedly. After only five more fans, the line for autographs was closed for a few minutes. You grabbed your phone and opened his Twitter and saw a video he was tagged in. He was at Comic-Con too. Glory of all being Marvel actors. He had just had a panel in another room.
The video started with a reporter in the crowd asking him what had happened between you two. He brushed it off and said, “Eh, failed relationship.” But they said, “We heard she was cheating on you with Tom Hiddleston, is that true?”
He ran his tongue inside his cheek, an obviously annoyed tick he had.
“Next question.”
“So what did happen?”
“Okay! Fine! Fine. You wanna know what happened?” he asked, adjusting as he got more agitated. “She threw me out. Alright? She threw my ass out. We had some issues, some trust issues on both ends and she threw me out. We had just moved in together and I guess she couldn’t handle the commitment.”
Everyone was quiet for a moment. Even you. Technically that was true. But you didn’t have a problem with commitment. But there were trust issues.
“Here’s another...fun fact,” he continued with dripping sarcasm. “She did leave me for Tom. I don’t know how long they were dating while we were. All I know is she couldn’t stop talking to the dude long enough to even notice I was there.”
“That bastard,” Tom growled in a low tone as he watched with you. “We never did anything while you two were together.”
“I know,” you said gently as you looked at him.
“He must be very...pleasing, for her to leave me though, if you catch my drift. She just couldn’t stop texting or talking to everyone but me, every other dude in her life was more important than me. So yeah, I got pissed. Who wouldn’t be? I mean, we were dating and she couldn’t even give me the time of day. So, I hope you’re happy with her Tom, if she hasn’t already moved on.”
The video ended.
“That lying bastard,” Tom repeated.
“Tom,” you started, your hand on his arm. “Don’t. He’s just acting out. He’s an ass.” This would completely wreck your reputation as your rep was already on the rocks and Sebastian’s was pretty much spotless.
“I’m gonna give him a piece of my mind,” he said a he stood up and adjusted his dark green shirt.
“Tom, no. He’s not worth it,” you tried, jumping up, dreading the thought of them fighting.
“He’s in the other room, spouting lies about you!” he said, his blue eyes intense on yours.
“So? I know the truth, you know the truth. That’s all we need to know. Right?”
He sighed as he stared into your eyes.
“Yes. I suppose you’re right….”
“Thank you.”
You quickly kissed him before fans started to line up for the next bout of autographs. You were a little mad at Sebastian too, but you knew why he was being this way. He was heartbroken, and while you knew it was immature, you also knew he’d been cheated on before. You couldn’t blame him for his behavior now or in the past. You decided to go talk to him after the autographs and smooth things over yourself.
#tom hiddleston#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader#tom hiddleston x reader#lies and slander#tom hiddleston fic#sebastian stan fic
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Ann Coulter on the Thomas Jefferson Slander and Dennis Prager America: The Greatest Nation on Earth and A Fine Time to Become an American.
Ann Coulter Interview and Article on the Thomas Jefferson Slander and Dennis Prager America: The Greatest Nation on Earth and A Fine Time to Become an American.
PragerU- America: The Greatest Nation on Earth
PragerU- A Fine Time to Become an American.
Ann Coulter Interview and Article on the Thomas Jefferson Slander
Dennis Prager. America: The Greatest Nation on Earth.
https://youtu.be/78AdZVg4IpA
PragerU
Premiered Jul 3, 2019
Happy 4th of July! This week’s Fireside Chat is all about America. The left wants to push the narrative that America is a racist nation, but the question is raised: If that is true, then why the need to make up racist hoaxes? Dennis also discusses Antifa and the lack of meaning in their lives. • Dennis’s Love For America, Article Referenced: https://www.dennisprager.com/when-i-f... • America’s “Racist” Hoaxes • Most Violent Crimes Are By Single Men • Conservative Motto: Leave Us Alone • Telling Children About Trans Family • This Week’s Five-Minute Video Referenced: https://www.prageru.com/video/a-fine-... 0:00 This Is Really Dennis’s Home 1:21 Do You Like Your Space? 3:06 Dennis’s Pride In Otto 3:39 Happy 4th Of July! 5:30 Dennis’s Love For America 6:07 When Dennis Joined The Rotary Club 8:27 Honor People, Not Race 9:56 Amercia’s “Racist” Hoaxes 11:52 Jews Didn’t Need To Make Up Hoaxes 13:30 Most Violent Crimes Are By Single Men 15:44 When Bad Is Called Good 16:14 The Sounds Of Otto 17:00 Ignorance Is Calling America Bad 18:44 Conservative Motto: Leave Us Alone 20:17 America Has Racism, But Is Not Racist 23:12 Sharing Politics With Leftist Friends 26:47 Telling Children About Trans Family 30:00 Doctor Who Pioneered Trans Surgery 31:01 Transition Surgery Regret 32:35 Name-Calling Isn’t Addressing Issues 33:00 Don’t Forget Weekly PragerU Videos
A Fine Time to Become an American.
Watch this video at- https://youtu.be/XGMZVE_Nu8A
PragerU
Published on Jul 1, 2019
Renowned Oxford-trained historian Niall Ferguson recounts his recent experience of becoming an American citizen. His unique impressions are both moving and surprising — even to him.
Script: I picked a fine time to become an American. It was a grey, overcast morning in Oakland, California. I was one of 1,094 people of every color and creed, from 85 nations, beginning with Afghanistan and ending with Yemen. We had gathered, anxiously clutching the requisite documents, outside the rather antique Paramount cinema. I wasn’t the only new citizen of European origin, but we were a distinct minority. Rather to my surprise, the Chinese were the most numerous group, accounting for close to a fifth of the new Americans. (How many Americans became Chinese citizens that week?) Next were the Mexicans (more than 150 of them), then the Filipinos, closely followed by the Indians. Yet it was the sheer range of countries represented that was most marvelous. The young man to my right, immaculately dressed in white, was from Eritrea. He had studied computer science in Wales and had initially come to California to work for NASA. I approach any encounter with US bureaucracy weighed down by dread. So I wondered, would this be like the Department of Motor Vehicles, famed for its Soviet-style antagonism to the public? Or would it be more like the implacable, pitiless Internal Revenue Service? In fact, the officials of the US Citizenship and Immigration Services could hardly have been more affable. The master of ceremonies was a genial, balding, bespectacled chap who won his audience over with a virtuoso display of multilingualism, chatting to us in what sounded like pretty fluent Spanish, Chinese, French, Hindi and Tagalog. Yet this was very far from a multicultural occasion. Quite the reverse. To get us in the mood for our impending Americanization, a choir sang a patriotic medley, including a rather baroque setting of the preamble to the constitution, Yankee Doodle, and Woody Guthrie’s This Land Is Your Land. Well, that did it! The way that song conjures up vast American landscapes (“From the redwood forest / To the Gulf Stream waters”) always gets me by the throat because, glimpsed in films, such vistas were what first drew me to the United States. Then came the information about our rights and obligations—specifically, our right to vote, our option to obtain a passport and our inextricable link to the Social Security system. (Nothing— rather disappointingly—about the right to bear arms. And not a word about the spiraling federal debt we were all now on the hook for.) For the complete script, visit https://www.prageru.com/video/a-fine-...
Donate today to PragerU! http://l.prageru.com/2eB2p0h To view the script, sources, quiz, and study guides, visit https://www.prageru.com/video/a-fine-... VISIT PragerU! https://www.prageru.com Join Prager United to get new swag every quarter! http://l.prageru.com/2c9n6ys Join PragerU's text list to have these videos, free merchandise giveaways and breaking announcements sent directly to your phone! https://optin.mobiniti.com/prageru Do you shop on Amazon? Click https://smile.amazon.com and a percentage of every Amazon purchase will be donated to PragerU. Same great products. Same low price. Shopping made meaningful. FOLLOW us! Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/prageru Twitter: https://twitter.com/prageru Instagram: https://instagram.com/prageru/ PragerU is on Snapchat! JOIN PragerFORCE! For Students: http://l.prageru.com/2aozfkP JOIN our Educators Network! http://l.prageru.com/2aoz2y9
Ann Coulter on The Larry O'Connor Show July 5th
https://youtu.be/o57U0ZYNOeg
Check out this great collection of Ann Coulter videos at- Fun Size Politics
Published on Jul 5, 2019
Ann Coulter Article on the Thomas Jefferson Slander.
WAS THOMAS JEFFERSON ON THE DUKE LACROSSE TEAM? By Ann Coulter.
July 3, 2019
While tearing down everything that’s great about our country, the left has always permitted us to celebrate patriotic holidays.
But this year, on the week that we commemorate the unveiling of the Declaration of Independence, Nike yanked a Betsy Ross tribute sneaker off the market because the American flag didn’t sit well with Colin Kaepernick.
Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, D-N.Y., is telling wild, provable lies about America’s border agents.
This Fourth of July, let’s look at the tactics used by the left to blacken the reputations of American heroes. To wit, the lie that the principal author of the declaration, Thomas Jefferson, fathered a child with his slave, Sally Hemings.
The charge was first leveled in 1802 by a muckraking, racist, alcoholic journalist, James Callender, who had served prison time for his particular brand of journalism. He had tried to blackmail Jefferson into appointing him postmaster at Richmond. When that failed, Callender retaliated by publicly accusing Jefferson of fathering the first-born son of Sally Hemings -- or, as the charming Callender described her, “a slut as common as the pavement.”
No serious historian ever believed Callender’s defamation -- not Dumas Malone, Merrill Peterson, Douglass Adair or John Chester Miller. Not one. Their reasoning was that there was absolutely no evidence to support the theory and plenty to contradict it.
The Jefferson-Hemings myth was revived by feminists trying to elevate the role of women in history. Modern pedagogy requires that no period of our past be taught without turning it into a lecture on racism, sexism or homophobia.
Fawn M. Brodie got the ball rolling with her 1974 book, "Thomas Jefferson: An Intimate History," which used Freudian analysis to prove Jefferson kept Hemings as his concubine and fathered all six of her children.
Brodie’s book was followed by Barbara Chase-Riboud’s 1979 novel "Sally Hemings," a work that imagines Hemings’ interior life. When CBS announced plans to make a miniseries out of the novel, Jefferson scholars exploded, denouncing the project as a preposterous lie. The miniseries was canceled.
Finally, a female law professor, Annette Gordon-Reed, wrote "Thomas Jefferson and Sally Hemings: An American Controversy," which accused professional historians of racism for refusing to defer to the “oral history” of Hemings’ descendants.
She said “racism,” so the historians shut up.
In 1998, a retired pathologist, Dr. Eugene Foster, performed a DNA test on the Y-chromosomes of living male descendants of Sally Hemings, as well as those from Jefferson’s paternal uncle. The Y-chromosome is passed from male to male, so, if the story were true, Hemings’ male descendants ought to have the Y-chromosome of the Jefferson male bloodline.
What the DNA tests showed was that Hemings’ firstborn son, Tom -- the Tom whose alleged paternity was the basis for Callender’s accusation -- was not related to any Jefferson male.
Foster’s study did establish that Hemings’ last-born son, Eston, was the son of some Jefferson male, but could not possibly say whether that was Thomas Jefferson or any of the other 25 adult male Jeffersons living in Virginia at the time, eight of them at or near Monticello.
For Eston to be Jefferson’s son, we have to believe that five years after being falsely accused of fathering a child with Hemings, Jefferson decided, What the heck? I may be president of the United States, but I should prove Callender’s slander true by fathering a child with my slave! No one will notice.
It would be as if five years after the Duke lacrosse hoax, one of the falsely accused players went out and actually raped a stripper -- in fact, the same stripper.
Nonetheless, Nature magazine titled its article on the study “Jefferson Fathered Slave’s Last Child.” Hundreds of newspapers rushed to print with the lie, e.g.:
"Study: Jefferson, Slave Had Baby" -- Associated Press Online, Nov. 1, 1998
"DNA Study Shows Jefferson Fathered His Slave’s Child" -- Los Angeles Times, Nov. 1, 1998
"Jefferson Exposed" -- Boston Globe, Nov. 3, 1998
Two months after these false “findings” had been broadcast from every news outlet where English is spoken, Foster admitted that the DNA had not proved Jefferson fathered any children by Sally Hemings, merely that he could have fathered one child. Only eight newspapers mentioned the retraction.
The science alone puts the odds of Thomas Jefferson fathering Eston at less than 15% -- less than 4%, if all living Jefferson males are considered, not just the ones at Monticello.
All other known facts about Jefferson make it far less probable still.
There are no letters, diaries or records supporting the idea that Jefferson was intimate with Hemings, and quite a bit of written documentation to refute it, including Jefferson’s views on miscegenation and his failure to free Hemings in his will, despite freeing several other slaves.
In private letters, Jefferson denounced Callender’s claim -- a denial made more credible by his admission to a sexual indiscretion that would have been more shameful at the time: his youthful seduction of a friend’s wife.
None of the private correspondence from anyone else living at Monticello credited the Hemings rumor, though several pointed to other likely suspects -- specifically Jefferson’s brother, Randolph.
Eston was born in 1808, when Thomas Jefferson was 64 years old and in his second term as president. His brother Randolph was 52, and Randolph’s five sons were 17 to 24 years old. All of them were frequent visitors at Monticello.
While Jefferson was busy entertaining international visitors in the main house, Randolph would generally retire to the slave quarters to dance and fiddle. One slave, Isaac Granger Jefferson, described Randolph in his dictated memoirs thus: “Old Master’s brother, Mass Randall, was a mighty simple man: used to come out among black people, play the fiddle and dance half the night.”
There is not a single account of Thomas Jefferson frequenting slave quarters. Nor did Jefferson take any interest in Hemings’ children. Randolph did, teaching all of Hemings’ sons to play the fiddle.
Randolph was an unmarried widower when Eston was conceived. After Randolph remarried, Hemings had no more children.
In response to DNA proof that only one of Hemings’ children was related to any Jefferson male -- and her firstborn son was definitely NOT fathered by any Jefferson -- the Thomas Jefferson Foundation, the Monticello Association and the National Genealogical Society promptly announced their official positions: Thomas Jefferson fathered all six of Hemings’ children! Guided tours of Monticello today include the provably false information that Jefferson fathered all of Hemings’ children.
So now you, at least, know the truth -- not that it matters in the slightest. Happy Fourth of July!
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This is just something I put together because I’m freaking out and thought this might help me process things. do not reblog, please.
abuse, manipulation, mental and physical illness, and financial drama below
When I was really little, my mother and father had some money troubles. According to my father, my mom routinely went and spent his money on irrelevant stuff, instead of paying for groceries, bills, etc. I don't know how accurate that interpretation of what happened is, but its entirely possible that the Irrelevant stuff was stuff for the children, just not stuff we needed. Trips to amusement parks, toys, movies, new shoes when we had perfectly good shoes already, etc. I know this is likely the case because my mother told me stories of how HER mother would do that too. Instead of important stuff, she spent money on little stuff to make us happy in the moment.
This post isn't to debate whether or not that is an appropriate parenting tactic or life strategy. Its too establish that my mother has always had trouble managing her money responsibly. Eventually, it got so bad my father was on the verge of bankruptcy, so he divorced my mother and sued for custody. He lost, and for a few years my three older siblings and one younger sibling (the first three from a previous marriage and the younger sibling my full sibling) lived with my mom until her life came crashing down. She lost everything.
My dad got custody when I was in second grade. I finished second grade and then my dad bought a house, the house I live in to this day. My younger brother and I went to live with him, while the other three stayed with my mom and her previous husband (who had by now pulled his life together enough to help with his kids). I saw my mother every other weekend and on wednesdays for dinner.
Every few visits we went to my Aunt and Grandma's house instead of spending time with my mom doing fun stuff. My mother, myself, and my brother would clean my mother's sister's apartment, taking care of them as best we could. It wasn't particularly fun but we loved our family and helped with.... marginal complaining.
My aunt and I had a very powerful connection. We liked a lot of the same things, and she even got me into a lot of stuff that I still love today, primarily martial arts. When I was seven, my mother signed me up to attend tae kwon do at the school that my aunt was helping out at, and it was amazing. I don't remember much of my childhood, but I know I loved it, even if it was difficult towards the end. Black belt testing is tough hahahha.
After I got my black belt, I wanted to take a little break. I was ten years old and wanted to play around a bit, and my dad took this as an opportunity to get me to do other stuff. I didn't return to tae kwon do until high school, where my connection with my aunt grew much stronger.
I spent three to five hours, six days a week at that tae kwon do school with my aunt. Eighteen to thirty hours a week in her company. Some weekends I would go over to her house and hang out, spending the weekend with her.
I spent a fraction of that with my mother. Saturday afternoon to sunday night, thirty six hours, every two weeks. In a month, I'd spend between 72 and 120 hours with my aunt, and 72 with my mother, if I didn't spend a weekend with my aunt. I loved my aunt.
By the time I was in high school, though, my mother turned her life around. She found a steady job and a good apartment, and had divorced her third husband, an aggressive and dangerous man with some bipolar condition. I was little I don't remember, only that he would sometimes get very, very angry. The point is, that she was doing good.
The three of us started spending mroe time at my aunt/grandma's house. It was getting bad. Two older women with a SLEW of physical disorders and an army of cats, crammed into one thousand square feet? NOT good. It was a terrible mess, and we all came together to turn it around. My mom and my aunt got a joint bank account, so that my mother could help them manage their funds, and IMMEDIATELY she got them a new apartment, found homes for several of the cats, got them insured and healthier (my aunt got all new teeth!), and even managed to get my aunt several job offers.
An then, college. I spend a few years putzing around, and one day I catch my aunt going over bank statements at tae kwon do. She's confused by some of the expenditures on there. Alright, fair.
This starts a huge conflict. According to my aunt, my mother owes her thirty thousand dollars, spent on stuff that my aunt does not have or has no recollection of authorizing. This money was spent over the course of the last 10 months, from when the bank account was made to the 'present' day. 10 months, and my mother somehow stole 30k AND turned my aunt and grandma's lives around.
My mother's rebuttal: all but 2k of that 30k is accounted for. Presents for the nephews/grandchildren, authorized by my grandmother, new clothes for my aunt for a job interview, that's the new fridge, that's a one thousand dollar loan that my mother borrowed, with grandma's approval, and paid back three hours later (banks are weird like that), gas money for the trips over to their apartment to clean cat shit off the tile floors, lunch after cleaning their toilets, etc. It was all stuff like that, with a recurring theme: my aunt wasn't the one who said "Do it," grandma was. The 2k that was left was just stuff that my mom didn't have receipts for and couldn't remember, and my mom would have paid that back if my aunt asked for it.
But my aunt demanded the full 30k. She refused to accept "but grandma said so" because grandma didn't remember that. What my aunt also refused to accept was that grandma was going senile and had been for a few years. Maybe she forgot? HOW DARE YOU BLAH BLAH BLAH it was awful.
So my aunt brings my mother to civil court and charges her. Touts all this evidence and claims that she's an invalid and has lived in a fugue state for the last few years due to pain medication and, well, pain. She claims that my mother was taking advantage of her, stealing from her, risking her life by putting her in financial jeapordy.
This is garbage, because A) my aunt was working at tkd with me EVERY DAY FOR THIS PERIOD OF TIME, B) my aunt managed to pull off straight A's at LBCC while they got a certificate in something, and C) HER LIFE IS SIGNIFICANTLY BETTER THAN IT WAS BEFORE!!!
My Aunt's annual income, including tae kwon do and Grandma's pension, was around 40k. HOW DID MY MOTHER STEAL ALMOST AN ENTIRE YEAR'S WORTH OF MONEY, AND STILL MANAGE TO GET YOU INTO A BETTER SITUATION? Its all a load of bs, its lies, its slander.
My mother loses the civil case. She has to pay back my aunt 15k. Alright. Fine. Its over with. Its far more than my mother should have to pay but its done.
My Aunt then charges CRIMINALLY, and brings the whole thing back. My mother is unequipped to handle this, we do the best we can, and manage to bring down the multiple felonies my aunt is trying to charge my mother with down to a misdemeanor theft charge. One thousand hours of community service and we're good to go.
Unfortunately, the misdemeanor theft doesn't exist, so my aunt's lawyers file the paperwork as a felony anyway. My mother now has a felony on her record, owes 15k dollars, and has to somehow do 1k hours of community service while working a full time job.
Now, by the time this all goes down my aunt has quit tae kwon do, she is no longer working there and hasn't been for some time. I see her occasionally, as I still have a relationship with this woman, until the criminal charges are brought up.
I immediately tell my aunt to back down. She refuses. I sever ties with her and we're done now. I focus on my relationship with my mother, trying to help her as best I can to deal with this mess.
My relationship with my aunt was severed five years ago. A few months later, the trial is over and my mother is struggling to deal with the repercussions of all of this. Its been half a decade, and we're finally turning shit around. My mother has almost paid off my aunt. She's back in school to get a bachelor's degree while working and bringing in six figures (when combined with her husband's income). We're doing wonderfully.
Then I get an email this morning from my aunt. She wants to let us know that my grandmother is sick in the head (senility alzheimers, idk), she likely does not have long left, and wants to see us before she forgets who her family is.
I do not know how to process this. This rambling post is my attempts to fully understand what has happened, and to give context to anyone who wants it. I don't know how to do this. I don't want to just leave my grandmother to die, broken and alone, but I also don't want a relationship with my aunt. My grandmother through my mother under the bus, supporting my aunt completely in all of this, and is just as much to blame as my aunt.
But.... still. I don't know what to do.
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