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jk-kiwi · 2 months ago

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The 90’s case

The 90’s case (18+)

Characters - assistant detective JK x detective Y/N reader (Woman)

Summary - Another case in your pocket, but this time, solving it could grant you everything you’ve ever wanted.

Genre - Crime investigation, suggestive/smut, maybe slight angst, the action takes place in the 90's, THIS is fiction!

Warnings - a dead body, cheating!, the reader is married to Namjoon, they investigate a crime, fictional characters, mentions of diabetes, autopsy and overdose, some swear words.

Warnings for the not so holy parts (18+) - I’ll try to detail, so… kissing, mentions of arousal, mentions of female and male body parts, unprotected (please be safe!), he cums inside…(PLEASE BE SAFE!), he’s a little possessive, I think, a little rough, hitting your sweet spots and all, not much detailing.

MINORS PLEASE STAY AWAY!

Author’s note - This is a story I wrote in 2020. I refined it and reposted it here with some extra spicy stuff. Y/L/N is your last name. Enjoy!

Word count - 4.1k

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“What do you think about this, Miss Y/L/N” one of the cops asks, while dozens search for clues in the house. A normal death as supposed by the covers. “Interesting indeed.” you say, looking through the magnifying glass, taking in every detail.

“How long do you think it's been like this?” he asks with disgust, looking at the poor man. He was dead. “Oh, I assure you Mr. Choi hasn't been dead for more than 5 hours.” you say confidently.

“Do you think it was a heart attack?” you humm curiously, staring at the lifeless body that sits in the bathtub.

“Ask for some tissue samples, I’ll definitely come with a response after I get the autopsy reports.” you yawn tiredly, all the work you have been doing recently piling up on your body.

Since when did crimes became so popular?

“Let’s do a good job, just as always.” he says, taking off his glove to shake your hand, before exiting the bathroom.

“And, any news from the expert?” says the man waiting for you outside, his body resting on the wall. “Let's not rush to conclusions, Jungkook. For now we know very little about the victim.” you smile at him, patting his arm in order to follow you down the stairs.

The place was packed with police since this morning, when the Choi family found out about the tragic incident. “What do we know about the victim until now?” Jungkook asks, opening the door of his Trabant 600, letting you hop on the right seat before taking off, him driving.

“Name:Dong-He Choi, age: 57, medical report shows that the only problem he had was diabetes?” you question, the report, poor in details. “Too much insulin?” He interupts. “Don't interrupt me, Jungkook.”

“Although I don't think he took too much insulin, his family said he took great care of his health.”

The man keeps silent, letting you cross over the details listed. “Family of 5 members, wife and 3 children along with him. It says here that his mother also lives there, the place estimated to cost around…10 million dollars?!”

Jungkook whistles in disbelief. “Wow, no wonder they live in that huge mansion.”

“Don’t worry, that’s just their main house, it says here that they also have a vacation home in Manhattan, two in Japan and a condo in China.” you exclaim.

“It smells more like murder to me, he was packed, filthy rich!” You sigh, already knowing this was going to be a huge pain that you will have to deal with. You were the main detective after all.

“I don’t know what to say, he had no signs of abuse or struggle other than the injury on his head, probably from falling face first into the tub.” all the details crossing your mind, trying to picture what happened.

“I didn’t find anything unusual at the crime scene.” you throw the pieces of paper in the backseat closing your eyes in annoyance, why now out of all times. Why would your life get so busy the moment you were close to your lowest?

“Did you speak with the family, maybe they gave some relevant info.” the man glimpse slightly over your tired figure before answering.

“His mother was in shock. Oldest son with his girlfriend, allegedly on a date, his daughters went to bed at 9, didn’t hear anything unusual during the night.” you hum, useless information once again.

“How about the wife, what’s her alibi?”

“She found him in the morning, they were sleeping in separate rooms recently, apparently their married life was not as sweet as it appeared.” you turn your head to look outside the window, the situation seemingly familiar leaving a feeling of bitterness crawl down your throat.

“We’re almost at your house. Looks like your hubby is here too.” Jungkook notices, his car parked in your driveway. “What’s he doing here at this hour, he should’ve been at work.” you mumble making Jungkook shrug.

“How long are you going to keep doing this?” he questions, you remain silent for a moment before looking eyes with the boy. “My personal life is not your business.” you reply coldly. “I would say otherwise…hey!” he tries to argue, but you get out of the car waving at him, loving how annoyed he’s gotten.

Your steps take you closer, taking in a deep breath and preparing your forced smile before entering the house. “Hey sweetie!” his melodious voice greets you, a gentle smile tugging at his lips.

The man comes closer to you, his lips leaving a small peck on your forehead. “Back already? Didn’t you have a new case?” he questions with a raised brow. “I could ask the same thing, shouldn’t you be in the office?” you reply, taking off your jacket, placing it on the rack.

Namjoon looks at you a little stunned before composing himself, a chuckle escaping his lips. “I forgot something important, I was about to go back anyway.” he takes his paperwork, key and jacket before throwing you a last glance, exiting the house.

You sigh, the smell of strong woman perfume lingering around. Her perfume.Your husband has been cheating on you for a while with his secretary, a woman 10 years younger than him, you already knew. He kept excusing himself with “business meetings” out of town and all the late night working under the pretext of “I just had so much paperwork to do.” his actions were obvious.

You were a detective after all, it was your job to be observant, years of practice bringing you to the point you were seeing through people like through crystal clear glass. Plus, he was “your” man, you knew him better after all these years you’ve been together.

And even if you didn’t want to believe it at first, the traces of red lipstick, one that you never wore, were far more evidence than needed.

You were stuck, you knew he was cheating but you also couldn’t bring yourself to leave him. You were to people with important jobs and bigger concerns than love, too different from the beginning but way to blind to see. In any case, the divorce would only bring more trouble into your busy lives.

You didn’t even feel that hurt about his actions, the love between you not existing anymore. That’s why you kept going like this, letting him meet her knowing they were far more suitable for each other.

It’s not like you were better anyways. You felt devastated when you found out, although it was expected, the only person bringing you comfort in that situation being none other than your assistant, Jungkook.

He already knew you well enough, and you’ve told him all kinds of stories along the years you’ve worked together. It was easier to forget what was happening when he was holding you close in his embrace.

The first time you gave in and stepped wrong, cheating on your husband with him, felt wrong, guilty even. But the man knew how to bring you back to him, to his bed, way too good.

Maybe it was the shared passion for crimes and mysteries, or the fact that he always listened to your worries, ending up caring for you better than your own husband.

You lay on your bed, the curtains closed. You try to get some sleep, but the case keeps you awake. It felt weird, not like sudden death, but murder.

You could not focus on anything when a case was feeling like this, so you get your phone, ready to dial his number, in a sudden being interrupted by the heavy knock on your front door.

Rushing downstairs, you think it’s Namjoon again, coming to get some other stuff he’s forgotten about, but to your surprise it’s Jungkook.

“Jungkook, what are you doing here?” you ask surprised, seeing him scratch the back of his neck shyly. “I thought we could work some more on the case.” did he even leave in the first place? That was the question you couldn’t bring to ask.

You smile, raising a brow, making way for the man to get inside, his grin brighter than ever. “I think we both know we're not gonna end up talking about the case.” you tease, making him look at you with lustful eyes.

“What do you mean?” he asks, stepping closer, your fingers caressing his chest. “You and me, alone. My husband…at work.” you whisper seductively.

“And what’s so wrong with that? He’s a jerk anyways.” he says, arms wrapping tightly around your waist. You play this game further, slowly unbuttoning his shirt.

“That’s what I was thinking too, and it’s not like you can keep your hands away from me for a second either. Let's not forget I'm a married woman, Jungkook.” your eyes scan him, he’s already way to worked up, you take it above one more step wrapping his arms around his neck.

“You husband is busy, but I’m not. I can take better care than him.” he says, his lips leaving slow, lingering kisses around your neck. “I think the case can wait, I have other important business I need to take care of.”

Jungkook lifts you up making your feet wrap around his torso, his lips never leaving your neck. And you know that once again you commit the same crime, letting this man in your house, in your bed, but the worst…in your heart.

-------------------------------

Wrapped in a blanket, both trying to catch your breath after solving the “case” found in Jungkook’s pants.

He takes a big gulp of air, leaning back on your pillows, arms spread, his face showing pure bliss.

“Wow, this was breathtaking.” he says while watching you. “It’s not my fault you’re getting old.” you respond, leaning to get the files scattered on the floor, finally working on something that’s important.

“You still have work on your mind after all of this?”

“Yes” you respond, getting out of the bed “I think we should work on it, isn’t this why you came?” you pick up his shirt, dressing yourself in it.

“Hey, that’s mine! What am I supposed to wear?” he asks in an upset tone, but with a shit-eating grin on his face making you roll your eyes.

“You don’t have to wear anything, I like it better anyways.” you wink before leaving the room, hearing the boy whine.

“This woman is gonna kill me one day…” he thinks before gathering his belongings, following you to the kitchen.

You were focused, munching on a biscuit, your eyes scanning the report papers up and down.

“Something’s not right here.” Jungkook suits himself too, grabbing a cup of water before chugging it down in one go.

“Why do you think that?” he asks, looking over your focused figure. You throw his shirt off going back to your room to properly dress up before tossing him the car keys. “We need to go back to the Choi mansion, I have a bad feeling.”

Jungkook complies, knowing your judgement is never wrong, taking no time in dressing up and in just mere seconds you were in the trabant, rushing to the Choi mansion.

Soon you arrive, the big gates opening like already expecting you. Getting out of the car you knock on the door, the air feeling eerie around.

“Oh, detective Y/L/N?” the woman who opened the door, Miss Choi, asks surprised. “We’re sorry to interrupt so soon, but is it okay if we look through your husband’s belongings? It’s important to the case.” Jungkook says in a sensitive tone.

She nods, tears gathering in her eyes at the mention of her dead husband. You two enter with her following behind, leading you to the lounge. “There’s not much left, the police already took most for the investigation, but you can have a look around if you want to.”

She takes you to her husband’s room, leaving right after to get some drinks and snacks.

“They were not joking when he said the cops took everything.” your remark while looking under a desk.

“What are these?” your assistant asks while pulling something from under a shelf. “Just some old magazines, where did you get them?” he points to the place making you go and inspect.

“Let’s move this.” you both get your hands on the shelf dragging it away, a mountain of old newspaper and wrappers falling from behind it.

“Chocolate?” you say after picking up one from the floor. “Wow, that’s a lot of candy for a diabetic.” you shoot him a look gathering more from the floor.

“They are not even expired, they must have been consumed recently.” you stuck some in your purse before moving everything back to place. You look around for some more information before something in the distance catches your eye.

“Jungkook, look at this.” you motion to the backyard, approaching the window for a better look. “It’s smoke.” he says, sitting next to you. “Yeah, definitely someone started it not long ago, I’m going to investigate.”

You rush out of the room with the boy following your steps. “Y/N, this is dangerous, I’m coming with you!” he says while catching your arm, concern plastered all over his face.

“You stay here, we can’t bring too much attention. If they ask, I'm in the spare bathroom.” you say before sneaking out the house, your phone ringing in your purse.

“Y/L/N on the phone.” it’s the policeman on the other line, the guy you talked with this morning. “The autopsy results are in. He had an insulin overdose, felt sick and then hit his head on the bathtub.”

“Yeah, great, I’m a little busy so I’ll call you later.” he doesn’t get to say another word, you end the call, getting closer to the smoke source.

“What even? That’s weird.” in front of you, laying in dim fire, a bunch of papers and documents. You put it out the best you can trying to save what’s left before your foot stomps onto something hard.

A watch.

You pick it up, scanning it before a chill of realisation hits you, making you rush back inside knowing you left Jungkook there all alone.

“Hi, this is Y/N Y/L/N on the phone. Get the guys and come to the mansion, Choi was murdered.” you manage to say to the police officer before barging in, surprising Miss Choi and Jungkook in the process.

“Don’t drink that!” You rush towards the man hitting the cup from his hands, making it hit the ground breaking in thousands of shards.

“Y/N what the hell! You spilled all the tea on me! What's wrong with you?” but you’re too focused on his well being, cupping his face in your palms, forcing him to look into your eyes, heart racing in fear.

“Tell me you didn’t drink it.” you ask with worry “No, you just threw it out of my hand!” you sigh in relief, composing yourself in order to confront Miss Choi.

“Miss Choi, where was your son the night your husband died?” you harshly question. “With his girlfriend? Why are you acting so strange?” she looks taken aback.

“Because he killed his father, along with you. Am I mistaken?” you look at her, dead in the eyes, her posture stiff. “That’s nonsense!” she raises from her chair in disbelief.

“You know what, that’s it! This conversation is over, please get out of my house!” She comes closer to push you out, but Jungkook is quick to act, shielding you.

You hear the police sirens ring, the doors of the mansion opening in a rush. “I hope you have a great explanation for this, detective.” the police officer says while pointing his gun at Miss Choi.

“I found this in your backyard, Miss Choi.” you start, pulling the burned pieces from your bag. “The true medical records of your husband and some other interesting details. You must have loved him…or should I say his money?” you browse through the burnt papers, pointing once you find the important section.

“Aha, there it is! If the two of you were to divorce you would not get any fortune? This must be your prenup. But! If it was for your husband to pass away as a natural cause…you would inherit everything. Does this sound familiar?” you look at the woman, her face showing pure horror.

“Oh, what is this? Divorce papers, all signed up just for you, but I guess your signature is not on them.” the woman gets pale as a ghost, her hands trembling.

“T-this, this is not true! Are you trying to frame me?!” she stutters while trying to keep herself composed.

“Not at all, they have sigils, stamps and original signatures, easy to check for fakes. But I suppose you need to wait a little longer, we’re just getting to the highlight of the story. The medical reports.” You throw the pieces of paper on the coffee table, keeping only the most important one.

“Mister Choi has never had diabetes.” you say with a smile on your face. “He just wanted to divorce you, and you couldn’t accept it.” the woman starts to pant for air, her hands gripping her chest.

“Miss Choi, is this true?” the policeman asks. “I didn’t want to come to this! He, he was divorcing me! I was about to lose everything!” she shouts in despair, uncovering her sick actions.

The police man gets his cuffs, putting them around her wrists.

“Miss Choi, you are under arrest for the death of Mister Choi, everything you say is and will be used against you.” she starts crying, sobbing while shouting that she didn’t want to do all this.

You throw the watch to one of the police assistants. “Get his son as well, his watch was near the pile of burnt paper.” you say staring at the scene unfolding in front of you, some realization hitting you as well.

You sigh relieved, happy that you managed to successfully solve yet another case. Jungkook drives you home, the peace around you a little too peaceful.

“Why did you hit my hand?” he asks, breaking the silence. “I was afraid she was going to put something in your tea.” you admit hearing him hum before stopping in front of your house. The atmosphere around you is quiet, the dusk setting in.

“Your husband got home.” he mentions. “Yeah, he has.” you sadly acknowledge.

You say goodbye and enter the house, your husband in the kitchen. “I heard you solved the case! Congratulations!” Namjoon says, coming closer to you, a glass of wine in his hand.

“Yes, I did.” you take the glass, swirling it around before placing it on the counter.

“Namjoon, we need to talk.” you say while looking into his eyes, it was time.

-----------------------------------

Your heart was pounding in your chest sitting in front of the door, wondering if you should knock or not. “Come on Y/N, you can do it.” you say before knocking once, your heart exploding while hearing his voice on the other side.

“Coming!” You fix your hair and put up a big smile when Jungkook opens the door, dressed only in a pair of gray sweatpants, his skin smelling like fresh soap from a mile away.

“Y/N? What are you doing here?” he asks, confused. “I figured we could work on some cases, mind if I come in?” you rush to say, feeling slightly embarrassed.

“Yeah, sure, but…is everything okay?” he asks while letting you inside, putting a black t-shirt on.

“Do you love me?”

“What question is that?” his cheeks get brighter at your sudden boldness.

“I just want you to be honest with me, do you love me or not?” you ask again, looking at his rigid form.

“Well…I want to say yes.”

“Then say yes.”

“You are married, Y/N.” he finally lets out, a pang tugging at his heart knowing he souldn't feel the way he’s feeling.

“Not anymore.” you whisper, showing your ringless finger. “I’m divorcing.”

“What.” he lets out in disbelief.

“Mister Choi’s case made me realize something, you can’t stay with a person for what he has or what he can give you. I want someone that loves me and knows how to cherish me.” you shyly say before locking eyes with the man in front of you.

“Then yes, I love you. So, so much. I’ve loved you for the past years, ever since I got assigned to be your assistant.” he comes closer to you, sticking his chest to yours, but not touching further.

“You drive me crazy in so many ways, you’re smart and can unravel even the most tangled cases. You’re to die for pretty and so sexy when you look at me with those eyes of yours, it makes me jealous to know I couldn’t find you first.” he finally touches you, his fingers gently cupping your waist.

“I’m so mad when I think of that stupid ex husband of yours managing to have you all for himself just to cheat and leave you weak and exposed. Or when I think of way too many ways to make you look at me, to let me claim you.” his face comes closer to yours, many emotions erupting between the both of you.

“Or when I get that sweet taste of your lips, and I rip those moans out, making me so fucking proud to please you, even if it’s wrong.” he kisses you, slow and tangy, but not for long, letting you desire for more.

“I love you. I’m greedy and I want you all for myself.” your eyes get teary, a feeling of comfort, safeness getting into you. You felt at home.

Wrapping your arms around the man you bring him close enough to whisper onto his lips. “Then have me for yourself.” you say, enough words for Jungkook to comply. Shoving your clothes off in no go, leaving you exposed only for his eyes to see, passion burning around the apartment.

His hands lead you to his bedroom, shoving you in his bed, not breaking the hot kiss he’s gotten you trapped in.

He pulls the t-shirt over his head, his pants following right after. You look with so much love and lust at him, your hands bringing him closer by the band of his boxers, making him whine.

“Pull them off, baby.” his tone, seductive, encouraging you to touch him further. You do it, taking off his boxers, letting his cock spring free in front of you.

“Y/N, if you keep looking at me with those eyes of yours, I’ll cum right now.” he admits, slightly embarrassed, face flustered, aching member leaking with arousal.

“Should we get to the good part then?” you question, biting your lip.

“All of this is the good part…”

You lay down, not breaking eye contact, letting him climb on top. His hands rest on your thighs spreading them nice and wide. “You’re drippin’ baby.” his eyes never leave your sloppy count.

“Just do something, Kook, I’m dying here.” he chuckles before gripping his cock, giving it a few tugs before bringing it closer to your entrance.

“From today, only I get to see and touch this.” he possessively says, licking his lips before pushing his tip inside of you, making you moan.

“You’re so hot and tight.” he whimpers, bowing his head at the sensitivity. “Please move.” you mewl, waiting for him to start pounding you the way you deserve.

He starts off slow, wanting the moment to last, but in a couple of minutes his peace gets faster and faster, making you see stars in the process.

You whine and cry underneath him, feeling so full and so good, his cock hitting all the right spots inside of you, letting you know you made the right choice to leave your husband for him.

He was pulling your strings so well, grunting every now and then when he touched that sweet spot of yours making you squirm or when you moaned too loud, knowing he'd hit your cervix just a little too deep.

“Jungkook! I’m close!” you shout, the ceiling above you turning from black to white. He keeps his rough pace, hitting deeper and deeper if possible.

“I’m close too, baby.” he whispers before giving one last thrust, spilling his hot seed inside of you, claiming you as his.

You reach your high as well, fingers clawing at his back, trying to bring him in for some closure, both of your arousal slipping your fluttering core. He rests his head on the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent, kissing your neck every now and then.

You raise his head, swearing you could see an entire galaxy into his eyes. He was yours now, and you were his, both of you ready to throw everything aside for each other.

You smile lovely at him, knowing he will forever be your happy place, your passion, your crime.

#kpop imagines #jungkook #bts jungkook #kpop fanfic #bts #bts imagines #jeon jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook smut #bts smut

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rjzimmerman · 9 months ago

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Excerpt from this story from Science Friday:

Flint Hills rancher Daniel Mushrush estimates that his family has killed maybe 10,000 trees in the past three years.

It’s a start. But many more trees still need to fall for the Mushrushes to save this 15,000 acres of rare tallgrass prairie.

Whenever other work on the property can wait, Daniel and his brother, Chris, don helmets and earplugs, grab their tools and pick up where they left off.

“It’s a lot of old-fashioned chainsaw work,” Daniel Mushrush said. “Walking rocky ridges and cutting down trees.”

The Mushrush family is beating back a juggernaut unleashed by humans — a Green Glacier of trees and shrubs grinding slowly across the Great Plains and burying some of the most threatened habitat on the planet.

This blanket of shrublands and dense juniper woods gobbling up grassland leads to wildfires with towering flames that dwarf those generated in prairie fires.

It also eats into ranchers’ livelihoods. It smothers habitat for grassland birds, prairie fish and other critters that evolved for a world that’s disappearing. It dries up streams and creeks. New research even finds that, across much of the Great Plains, the advent of trees actually makes climate change worse.

Now a federal initiative equips landowners like Mushrush with the latest science and strategies for saving rangeland, and money to help with the work.

Satellite imagery and a better understanding of how trees and shrubs spread could help landowners replace a losing game of whack-a-mole with a more systematic course.

Mushrush calls the approach, promoted by the Natural Resources Conservation Service’s Great Plains Grassland Initiative with guidance from the University of Nebraska-Lincoln, a morale builder.

“It works,” the third-generation rancher said. “We’re still overwhelmed with how to do this on 15,000 acres — but we have a plan.”

Each time he thinks about the Manhattan area, which is much more infested with juniper woods and seas of sumac, wild plum and dogwood thickets, he feels the threat creeping toward his home in Chase County.

“If a coral reef is worth saving, if some pristine mountain stream is worth saving, then so are the Flint Hills,” he said. “It’s not easy work, but it’s worthy work.”

#prairies #forests #trees

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woodlandwizard77 · 6 months ago

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A Step by Step Guide to Losing Your D**k

I recently wrote a series of messages to my aunt talking about all the steps I need to do to get bottom surgery, a penile inversion vaginoplasty at Mt. Sinai, in the next year or two. Its a long list. And everytime I added something she had a sort of “wow thats rough” reaction, but to me its just the to do list. So I decided to write them all out.

Start transition DONE

Most insurance companies and surgeons require you to have socially transitioned and have done HRT for at least 1 year at the time of operation

For social transition, this was March of 2024

For HRT it will be January of 2025

Get a referral to a surgeon (I am here)

In my case, Mt. Sinai in Manhattan

My Doctor referred me, but Mt. Sinai takes self referrals

Start laser hair removal

Book a consultation (I am here)

Go to laser frequently enough to satisfy surgeon

Convince Mom and Dad to help out DONE

Get 2 letters

Social Worker (1)

PCP's Office

Social Worker (2)

Mt. Sinai

Get a gender affirmation loan through the local credit union

Work two weeks so I can take in pay stubs

Get a letter from anybody (probably my HRT prescriber

Meet with representative and either open a line of credit or take out a loan

Consultation with Mt. Sinai’s team

Wait 3-6 months (I’m here)

Bring letters

My insurance only requires 2, less than Mt. Sinai thinks insurance will need, and Mt. Sinai provides 1 of them. Meaning the other is through IHS Behavioral

Schedule Social Work pre surgical consult appt

Schedule Mental Health and Medical Clearance with Registrar

Go to NYC for 1-2 nights, maybe for each, hopefully just once

Maybe also for Social Work thing

Consult with Surgeon

Wait until I’ve worked about 12 months to get short term disability

Probably summer (ASAP) and when Mom has time off

Do logistics

Book an airbnb, hotel, etc for recovery

Starting a few days after OR date and lasting a little over a month

Within a 90 minute drive of Mt. Sinai

Rural enough that Mom is comfortable to help and can go home if someone else shows up

Probably New Jersey, maybe Hudson Valley

Has at least 1, preferably 2, separate bedrooms

Has 2 beds

Has ADA accessible entry

Has a kitchen

Has a full bath, preferably and a half

Has internet and preferably a TV

Lodging for Mom + Dad/care team while I’m in OR

Probably 5-7 days

Preferably with a 1-2 day buffer period before OR date (included in the 7 day estimate) so I can enjoy the city

Either within a short walk from Mt. Sinai or on the same subway line as Mt. Sinai

RW, 1, or ACE

Someone to help me get from recovery location to Mt. Sinai while not in NYC

Develop and get list of items needed for recovery

Dilator

Pads

Gowns/loose clothing

Comfort food

Coordinate missing 8-9 weeks of work

Take care with who knows what before I leave

Inform HR, department manager, and work friends whats up

Get cleared for surgery and get an OR date

Probably a 6-12 month date from clearance

Get pre clearance testing through PCP or a lab in hometown

Go to NYC for that if need be

Week Before Surgery

No alcohol, no aspirin, NSAIDs, herbal supplements, or fish oil

Consult for other non aspirin blood thinners (which I am not on)

No alcohol for 3 weeks after as well

Tylenol/Acetaminophen is okay

Go downstate

See friends from NYC?

Bring Mom/Dad?

Do something fun in Manhattan

Get a COVID test

Take an anti-bacterial bath

Day before surgery

Breakfast before 9am

Last meal

Drink Golytely bowel solution around noon

Chemically induced diarrhea

Clear fluids only after golytely

(includes coffee, tea, water, broth, some juices)

Nothing goes in the stomach after midnight

Some medication okay with a sip of water

HRT???

Get surgery (a penile inversion vaginoplasty)

1 to 1+½ days

I’ve heard of as long as three

3-5 day hospital stay

Mom and Dad probably stay in Manhattan then

Go to recovery location

Drive with seat reclined

Stay for 4 weeks, pretty much bedridden

Go to follow ups

Dilate

Go home

Continue recovery for another 2-4 weeks at home

Follow up with PCP

Return to life

#mtf girl #transgender #transfem #trans woman #srs #bottom surgery #mtf bottom surgery #transblr #transition journal #queer #lgbtq #lgbtqia #gender affirming care #gender affirming surgery

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drunk-on-dk · 1 year ago

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[Teaser] Over the Country Club | Yoon Jeonghan (M)

pairing: best friend!Jeonghan x afab!reader genre/tags: fluff, angst, smut (minors do not interact), friends to lovers, a bit of unrequited love, a slice of life au, college au, post-grad au rating: 18+ (minors do NOT interact) w/c: ~3k TEASER (estimated ~15-20k for full fic, currently this may be my longest fic yet and it feels so good to really be writing again) warnings: mentions of alcohol (underage is not condoned), future smut

Summary: Jeonghan and you have known each other for as long as you can both remember. From the years spent working at the country club, to your university days, there has always been this aching feeling that neither of you can quite understand. Someone falls first, but the other falls harder.

A/N: Please let me know your thoughts on this teaser! I've been working hard to get back into writing in the new year and wanted to get comfortable with diving more into the plot. Things may change when the full fic is posted, but not much of what's in the teaser! I hope you enjoy it, and of course please message me if you'd like to be on the tag list for this fic!

I. 4th of July, the Summer Before the First Year of University

Just like every other high school student in your town, Jeonghan and you found part-time jobs at the oh-so-prestigious country club located in the next town over. One could argue it was practically a full-time job since most part-timers worked upwards of 40 hours a week due to how busy the club got during the summers.

Not that you would complain about the hours; to be fair, you had to save up a substantial amount of money for the upcoming transition to college. The realization hit soon after graduating high school, you only had enough pocket change to fund some expenses, which was not nearly enough to get you comfortably through the upcoming semesters. You had worked at the club most summers, but this year you took all the hours they offered.

Plus, you’d be crazy to admit that summers working at the Lakewood Country Club weren’t some sort of fun. Plenty of your peers worked there, including Jeonghan, your longest lasting friendship due to the proximity of living next door to one another and growing up attached at the hip.

Jeonghan worked as a caddie on the golf course. He’s gentlemanly in appearance, has just enough knowledge about what type of club to use at each hole, and has a never-ending spunk that entertains whatever group of golfers he’s assisting for the day. Jeonghan made decent tips working as a caddie, earning a couple of hundred dollars from some of his return golfers who specifically requested his assistance for an 18-hole outing. One could assume that most members of the country club were very well-off, or at least living comfortably.

Luckily, you were stationed at the halfway house most days this summer. It’s located in the heart of the golf course, and the club consistently blasted cool air conditioning in the exposed, open bar area that was meant for golfers to stop by. Jeonghan, as scheming as ever, would ensure that his golfers stopped by for a quick refreshment at some point, knowing that he’d get to spend some time with you and help you earn some extra cash in tips from his already rowdy crew.

You’d mix up some Manhattans or Old-Fashioned’s for the golfers, knowing the usual orders for each club member as if they had been engrained on the back of your hand (in hindsight, a freshly graduated high schooler should not have been pouring alcoholic beverages, but the country club didn’t care - your labor was cheaper than hiring a professional tender and you learned just the basics just fine). Nonetheless, your cocktails were a treat for the golfers who had been drinking beers for most of the course, most of them lukewarm or gone by the time they made it to the halfway house.

Today is the Fourth of July, marking the mid-way point of your last summer before college. You had made your fair share of tips this summer working at the halfway house, especially due to Jeonghan’s consistent sourcing of clientele at your bar. It was a particularly hot day, one of the hottest of the summer and plenty of customers had stopped by, leaving hefty tips, feeling generous either from the heat or the holiday.

Jeonghan approached the bar area with a heavy sigh, parking his cart hastily, but still had his typical mischievous smile etched onto his features as a crowd of familiar golfers followed behind him. Your nose scrunched in feigned disgust, a teasing smile mirroring his upon noticing just how tired and sweaty the group was from the relentless summer heat.

Part of you thought he looked angelic from the way his sun-kissed skin gleamed, but you’d never admit that, nor would you dare to speak those thoughts out loud, not even to your closest friends who weren’t Jeonghan. However, the other part of you remembered he was just your silly best friend who smelled slightly like fresh-cut grass, sunscreen, and a hint of whatever remained of his tropical cologne.

“The usuals?” You beamed, flashing your best customer service smile at the group, already reaching for the bottle of top-shelf whiskey displayed behind you. You received hoots and hollers along the lines of “Yes, please” from the group. Jeonghan slips behind the bar as you expertly begin to prepare drinks for the parched golfers. Normally, this was frowned upon, but Jeonghan had most of the country club supervisors wrapped around his finger.

Jeonghan’s quick to sort through the fridge right off to your side, squatting and contemplating his options, but you have to smack his hand away from the cooler once you notice his deft fingers are reaching for a plastic shooter of whiskey.

“Y/N,” Jeonghan practically cries out, whining similar to a little boy being scolded, but he’s just your immature best friend who has a knack for trouble and stealing. You can’t always let him get away with everything.

“You kleptomaniac, don’t you dare,” you joke, routinely preparing the drinks, laughing at the puppy dog eyes that are flashed in your direction and then back to the cold fridge. You bend down next to him, whispering quietly so that no one but Jeonghan can hear. “Wait until later, today’s manager has been keeping inventory of the alcohol as if they personally own it all. I can sneak some after my shift when I cash out.”

Jeonghan’s pout morphs into a smirk, a devious glint in his eyes as he holds out his pinky finger. You comply, wrapping your pinky with his to silently promise that you’ll follow through later.

“Meet at hole 12? Right at the hill behind the trees? It’s still the best spot for fireworks.” Jeonghan speaks as if it’s a secret mission - as if it’s not the same spot you’ve met to watch fireworks for the last few years working at the country club.

“Oh, I thought we’d check out the views at hole 17 this year,” you roll your eyes mockingly, Jeonghan knows you’re messing with him, but it’s your smile that betrays your teasing, “Duh, Jeonghan. I’ll catch you there later.”

“You know hole 17 is where Mingyu and Arin lost their virginity to each other last year,” Jeonghan pokes, settling on bottled water from the fridge and standing back up, towering over your own figure. You feel your cheeks flush, a bit flustered he’d drop that information so casually, and sure as hell hoping he didn’t think that you were suggesting anything.

You didn’t see Jeonghan in that way, he didn’t see you in that way. Plain and simple. You two were only best friends and that’s how it would always be.

“That’s gross, Jeonghan,” you scowl, willing away the blush that is still burning your face as you finish garnishing the drinks. “Don’t air out people’s secrets like that. That’s personal. Plus, why would I know that?”

Jeonghan chuckles, shrugging as he helps you carry the drinks over to the golfers who have made themselves comfortable among the shaded seating outside the bar area, an outdoor fan helping cool them down. They all clamor in delight as Jeonghan and you emerge from behind the bar with the chilled drinks, quick to "cheers" each other before savoring the first sip of their beverages.

There are smacks and sighs of delight from the group, your pride growing as they approve of the drinks, and gather up some cash for a tip. Jeonghan nudges you, urging you to accept the bills from Mr. Choi, a polite older man who continues to take care of Jeonghan and you each summer. He’s never been creepy, and he tips very well. You still feel slightly guilty each time you accept cash from him.

“Thank you, Mr. Choi,” you speak graciously, accepting the tip, quickly shoving it into your pocket without checking the amount, and earning an approving thumbs up from the man as he takes another sip of his cocktail.

“Save it wisely, Y/N,” Mr. Choi chimes, humming in thought, and eyes flickering between where you and Jeonghan stand. “Jeonghan tells me you’re both attending the same university in a few months. Heard you’ve both received a pretty good scholarship, even one from the club?”

“That is correct, sir,” you nod excitedly. Not only had you both received an academic scholarship from your university, but all your years working at the club have paid off in a way you wouldn’t have imagined, earning a scholarship from the Lakewood Country Club members' foundation. “I am grateful to have received such an award. Don’t worry, I’ll make good use of it. I know Jeonghan will too. You’d never guess, but he’s a straight A student,” you tease, hiding your mouth only for Mr. Choi to see as if Jeonghan can’t hear you, and elbowing your friend in the rib cage, earning a pained groan from him.

Mr. Choi nods in approval, a smile creeping onto his face as he chuckles at the dynamic between you two. “Glad to know my money is going towards two bright futures.” Jeonghan is pushing your bony elbow away, annoyed at your enthusiasm and teasing, further amusing Mr. Choi. “Jeonghan, make sure you don’t lose sight of Y/N during University, all sorts of partners will be chasing her. She’s intelligent and beautiful. Don’t want her forgetting about you now, do you?”

Jeonghan would groan if it wasn’t for the fact that it was Mr. Choi speaking to him. He has to restrain himself from shoving you away as well, knowing that Mr. Choi has inflated your ego a bit too much with his praise. Nonetheless, Jeonghan plays into it. “Nope, she’s stuck with me, so don’t even worry about it.”

You almost laugh out loud, reminding yourself to remain professional on the course as you fire back. “As if, Jeonghan couldn’t get rid of me even if he wanted to.”

“Valid point,” Jeonghan grumbles, teasingly pushing you back towards the bar as if reminding you of your duties, sick of hearing the constant praise that only you’re receiving, even though there have been no additional visitors since Jeonghan’s entourage of golfers arrived. He’s quick to enthusiastically round up the crew, realizing daylight will quickly dwindle by the last hole if they don’t start back up soon. “Welp, we better let Y/N continue to work. Ready for hole 10?”

The men are quick to gather, knocking back the remainder of their drinks, and returning to their carts as Jeonghan helps you clean up the finished glasses, your shoulders bumping into each other as you two push your way back into the bar. Mr. Choi sends a knowing look Jeonghan’s way, neither of you catching it as he wishes you a nice Fourth of July.

“Thank you, Mr. Choi!” You wave to the man, bidding the rest of the golfing crew a nice holiday as well before turning to Jeonghan who’s finished carrying over the rest of the empty glasses. “Catch you later, Hannie?”

“Of course,” Jeonghan’s eyes lit up yet again upon hearing his childhood nickname, and is reminded of the nearing shenanigans later this afternoon. Maybe he’ll steal some snacks from the members gifting table for tonight. “I’ll see you then stay cool, Y/N!”

“You as well! Make sure to reapply your sunscreen,” you shout back, watching as Jeonghan hops in the cart with Mr. Choi and rolls his eyes at your nagging. Mr. Choi gets one final laugh before Jeonghan drives off, the entourage of golfers following closely behind.

You’re finishing cleaning up the bar, pulling the cash from your pocket earlier and gasping upon realizing just how much Mr. Choi had tipped you. A five-hundred dollar tip. It was surely the most you’ve ever made in one round of drinks, absolutely unwarranted, and it made you feel a bit teary-eyed. You knew you couldn’t dare to return it, as Mr. Choi would definitely be offended, but you felt extremely lucky to have such nice members visit you at the halfway house, you’d have to thank him eventually.

The rest of the day went quickly, and, much to your delight, you had made enough tips to support a chunk of your tuition and expenses for the year. Also, your manager had swapped shifts with another supervisor mid-day, who was not as hawklike.

Leading up to the completion of your shift, you had snuck a pair of alcoholic shooters into your uniform skirt. Even in your attempt to be rebellious, you couldn’t just steal the shooters, using some of your tip money to cover the cost of the alcohol and you felt less criminal. You knew Jeonghan would tease you relentlessly about this if he was here, each shooter was no more than $3 each, but you had a knack for doing the “right thing,” or else you feared karma would get you in the long run.

Upon reaching the end of your shift, you stopped back at the employee locker room to safely store your tips in your purse. The day had been hot, but it was cooling down now that night was approaching.

Ultimately, you opt to throw on a sweatshirt, one that Jeonghan had purchased when you two had toured your university, which was the same one that he’d worn so many times that it’s the most comfortable piece of clothing you own. One that he couldn’t deny you of when you begged to keep it, secretly thinking that you looked cute in it even though you were practically swimming in the fabric. Disgusted that he’d even thought that, he dismissed you quickly and said you could keep it.

The sun was setting minute by minute, meaning that Jeonghan’s shift would be finishing very soon, and you packed away the remainder of your items in your employee locker, double-checking that your skirt still had the tiny plastic alcohol bottles hidden away.

After confirming you had said shots, you headed out to hole 12 with a spring in your step. It was a meeting spot you and Jeonghan had found your summer after freshman year of high school. There was a hill behind a bunch of trees that overlooked the valley where the main portion of the country club was located. No one was allowed on the course during after-hours, but this spot was so dark and secluded that you two hadn’t been caught yet. It was also the prime viewing spot for the club’s fireworks show, and it was your little secret.

You were first to make it to the spot, plopping down on the hill and huffing in relief. Your legs ached a little from standing all day. The grass beneath you was dewy from the cool nighttime air, the humid heat from the day settling on the greenery, and it was almost enough to make you feel itchy. However, you don’t mind it, not when you have the fireworks show to look forward to. You would never mind the damp grass, especially not when you had a favorite summer tradition to share with your favorite person, your best friend.

Jeonghan’s shift ended a bit later than yours, but he didn’t arrive at the spot much later than you. He meant to grab a bag of popcorn or something, but he didn’t want to leave you hanging for too long.

Jeonghan tried to sneak up on you, but you’re too smart, too knowing of his antics. So when you turn around knowingly, with two opened Whiskey shooters in hand, he chuckles almost maniacally at your annoyed expression that doesn’t fully translate into your impish eyes. You two were one and the same.

“What are you waiting for, Hannie? These shots aren’t getting any colder. Not when they’ve been in my skirt for the past hour.”

“Eugh, now you’re the one oversharing,” Jeonghan groans in disapproval, sitting down next to you on the grass, and gratefully accepting the shot regardless of your TMI comment. Your knees knock each other as you turn to face him, but a friendly touch isn’t foreign to either of you. “You’re the gross one, Y/N.”

“Oh, shut up,” you giggle, holding the shot out in front of him and teasingly shaking the plastic bottle. You sing song, “The night’s not getting any younger either.”

Nodding in acknowledgment, Jeonghan smirks and shares a few words, “Cheers to our last summer before we’re miserable college students. Cheers to fewer hours spent in the heat at this country club. Cheers to our everlasting friendship.”

With his final words, you’re both knocking back your shots, groaning in unison as the spicy drink burns and settles in your stomach, instantly warming your body at the sensation. Your face scrunches up at the taste and Jeonghan can’t help but laugh uncontrollably.

“Stop it,” you whine, your voice a bit hoarse from the alcohol but smiling nonetheless. “You aren’t any better than me. Anyways, that's enough for me tonight.”

“True,” Jeonghan contemplates, but he’s quick to poke you. “But I didn’t struggle as bad as you did.”

“Touché,” you hum, nudging Jeonghan’s shoulder excitedly as a warning firework darts into the sky, indicating the show will be beginning shortly. “It’s starting!”

“Alright, alright,” Jeonghan is groaning at your bony elbow yet again digging into him, but he’s delighted by your excitement regardless, shoving you back as you begin to readjust for the show. “Calm down, it’s nothing crazy.”

“No, Jeonghan,” you grin, turning your head to fully make eye contact with his wide eyes, joy flickering in your own as you peer at your best friend. “It’s nothing crazy, but it’s absolutely so special because once again we get to enjoy it here together.”

Your emphasis on the word together almost makes him shiver, a foreign feeling rushing through him as you continue to gaze at him with those wild eyes of yours, gulping as he hesitantly nods, even though he wholeheartedly agrees it is special, but he’s not exactly sure why. “Very true,” and as if on cue, the fireworks show begins, relief flooding through him as you redirect your gaze and squeal in excitement.

Jeonghan doesn’t understand why, but his heart pounds in his chest throughout the entire show. He thinks maybe it’s the alcohol (you and he rarely have dared to sneak alcohol before), maybe it’s the overstimulation of the fireworks, maybe it’s the thrill of knowing the golf course guards could spot you any year and escort you away, or maybe it’s the way your knee keeps brushing his thigh reminding him of just how close you two are. How much you are together here alone, just like every other summer.

It’s a feeling he decides to ignore for the rest of the fireworks, letting himself lay back on the damp grass with you and listening as you enthusiastically point out your favorite fireworks, bickering with you when he thinks a different type of firework is prettier.

It’s a feeling he continues to ignore as the finale comes and goes, chest fluttering at the way your eyes sparkle with golden reflections of the fireworks in the sky, and once again quickly redirecting his gaze to anything but you.

It’s a feeling he tries his damnedest to ignore as you both continue to lay in the grass post-fireworks. Neither one of you making the first move to go home. Maybe you thought this would be the final moment of normalcy between you and Jeonghan before starting university, knowing that all friendships are bound to change with such a new chapter. Maybe he thought he’d figure out whatever it was he was feeling if he just stayed here with you a moment longer.

It’s a feeling he struggles to ignore as you both fall into deep conversation. The one shot of alcohol makes you both loose-lipped as you reminisce on embarrassing high school stories. Reminiscing on your shitty boyfriend who broke up with you before the summer. Reminiscing on your years of friendship.

It’s a feeling he no longer can ignore when you roll over, lips pouting and eyes teary as you start to feel emotional about your recent breakup. Something in him feels like it shatters when you ask, “Have you ever been in love before, Hannie?”

#seventeen smut #svthub #jeonghan smut #jeonghan fic #yoon jeonghan smut #seventeen fic #jeonghan fluff #jeonghan angst #jeonghan x reader #jeonghan x y/n

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wuggen · 5 months ago

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Wait why do we hate John von Neumann

Well okay the reasons implicit in that particular post (software was a mistake, von Neumann's work enabled software to exist as it does, ergo,) are jokes, but there's this

Von Neumann was included in the target selection committee that was responsible for choosing the Japanese cities of Hiroshima and Nagasaki as the first targets of the atomic bomb. Von Neumann oversaw computations related to the expected size of the bomb blasts, estimated death tolls, and the distance above the ground at which the bombs should be detonated for optimum shock wave propagation. The cultural capital Kyoto was von Neumann's first choice,[333] a selection seconded by Manhattan Project leader General Leslie Groves. However, this target was dismissed by Secretary of WarHenry L. Stimson.[334]

>does extensive math to accurately predict and maximize destruction and death toll >first choice of target is civilian cultural capital

#I have memories of reading that he was like very gung-ho about Kyoto #and vague memories that the higher population (and in particular civilian) density was a key component of his motivations #but I can't find anything to that effect currently so idk‚ maybe I hallucinated it

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fox-teeth · 3 months ago

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In honor of the final days of @shortboxcomicsfair 2024 I wanted to write a post about "The Maker of Grave-Goods" journey from vague sketches to final comic!

This comic started with a single idea in 2020: how would sci-fi tech like faster-than-light travel effect the life of an artist?

At the time I was writing a lot of outlines for adult sci-fi comics and dreaming about ways to publish them. Two things stalled that project at the end of 2020--struggling with how to get them "out there" in the current US comics landscape, which is very focused on kids' comics and autobio/nonfiction as the main adult genres, and me becoming a frontline covid-19 healthcare worker.

(I have wondered if people read this comic as a reaction to genAI "art"--no, it's more about what's happened to webcomics since the early 2000s)

Some things in the original 2020 sketches stayed the same--compare this sketch of the intro pages with the actual page one--while others changed a lot. Originally the story focused on Mazu meeting other unfamiliar aliens in the space station more and her backstory was less fleshed out and told quickly. Also at one point Mazu's species had technology like telephones, and the species name was "Mazu". They always looked vaguely like dragons though.

I was frankly shocked when I got into ShortBox Comic Fair! And after much hemming and hawing I decided to resurrect one of those sci-fi comics for it, because I figured if any audience could appreciate difficult, literary genre fiction for adults in my ~indie comics for girls~ art style it was SBCF's.

I didn't really get started in this comic in earnest until May (dayjob stuff). I wrote most of the comic in the AMNH's Gottesman Library, both because it's the quietest most beautiful library in Manhattan (IMHO) and I could wander the halls looking for inspiration. Much of the look of this comic--especially the clay objects Mazu makes--were based on drawings I did of artworks in the AMNH and the Met.

As I worked on the outline and script/thumbs the story began to take shape, and became more about Mazu's life story within her extant culture contrasted with the precipice of complete social upheaval her people were standing on with the introduction of FTL travel. It also became twice as long as I estimated...

PART TWO: page from outline to final art

Buy "The Maker of Grave-Goods" on ShortBox Comics Fair

#making comics #art process #behind the scenes #writing process #shortbox comics fair #webcomics #comic art #the maker of grave-goods #indie comics

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bvckbiter · 2 months ago

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I wanna know your thoughts on Alabaster's loyalty to Kronos since it's very interesting to me

This took me forever to get back to, I'm so sorry anon </3

From a purely canon basis, the only two things we really know about Alabaster's loyalties is that one, by Hecate's words, he fought for Kronos in Hecate's name, so we can generally presume that he was fighting to get his mother recognized (much like Ethan); and two, even after the Battle of Manhattan, he sees himself and the Titans' side as the heroes of the story and the Olympians as the bad guy.

So we don't really have anything on Alabaster's loyalties before Manhattan, much less what he specifically feels about Kronos. Where canon ends, though, that's where the fun begins :3

Personally, I can see the fanon of pre-Manhattan Alabaster going two ways. The first one is usually what I see, that Alabaster was an absolute ride-or-die for the TA. The way he talks about them in the Son of Magic lines up with this, as well as the fact that he railroads the promise of amnesty and a place in CHB; as a powerful demigod, constantly being hunted by monsters, having a monster-free haven to return to is a necessity, so it really speaks to his enduring loyalty to Kronos. In fanworks, usually it's tied up with some flavors of hero worship for Luke (similar to Annabeth's) as well as a bit of a messianic complex—since he's Hecate's strongest, I can absolutely see his life as being a bit of a hero's journey, what with his "Heroes never die" line when referring to himself and Claymore (EVEN THOUGH THEY'RE NOT HEROES AND CLAYMORE MENTALLY POINTS OUT THAT HEROES ALWAYS DIE, THIS LOSER—)

The second one is a more of a me thing and def based on this offhand idea of Alabaster's and Ethan's character/belief arcs being intersecting lines. Ethan in BotL till TLO, though trying to stomach all the horrors and costs that serving Kronos was clearly incurring on himself and the TA *, is pretty straightforwardly loyal and the only thing that tips his scale is Percy pointing out that wholesale destruction goes against the balance that Ethan and Nemesis are fighting for. I think it's interesting if in contrast, Alabaster with his messianic complex is still clinging onto ideals of heroism etc and actually actively entertains thoughts of defecting when he sees how much toll the war is taking on the TA demigods. The only reason he doesn't go through with it is because he wants to feel like a hero and because his mother estimates that allying with Kronos is their best outcome—a more aggrandizing twist on how Nemesis promised Ethan that they will usher change into the world.

Naturally, what switches them around is that final confrontation at Manhattan. As mentioned, Ethan turns coat at the last minute and is killed for it. Alabaster, gripped by sunken-cost fallacy and a "what about my unfulfilled potential" panic, doubles down against Olympus and shoots himself in the foot. So the moment that Ethan realizes that Alabaster is right, Alabaster actually regresses into a mentality even worse than Ethan's initial "ends justify the means" mindset.

Either way, the outcome is the same. Alabaster's loyalties become entirely murky because the only way he can now cope with all the losses of his siblings and comrades is to twist his worldview entirely into Kronos/TA being good and Olympus being bad, because otherwise, he's going to have to face the fact that their blood is on his hands, and he's amounted to nothing.

*(I'd like to make a note here that in my view, Ethan's struggle with this is different from Luke's; where Ethan has always been self-effacing in both his goals (which were always about his mother) and his actions (he's a second-in-command, a disposable lackey), Luke from the start was using the very justified rage he had at the cabins system and the gods to fuel his own need for a hero's legacy.)

#my asks #alabaster torrington #ethan nakamura #luke castellan #my meta

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sargeantposting · 1 year ago

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ARTICLE: The Florida Man of Formula 1 (2023)

Source: Michael M. Grynbaum, The New York Times Series: F1, 2023

Logan Sargeant, the only American driver in Formula 1, is zipping around the narrow streets of Baku, Azerbaijan, at roughly 200 miles an hour. His head bounces inside the cockpit as a wheel shudders over a rumble strip. It’s hard to hear over the banshee shriek of his V6 engine, carrying three times the horsepower of a run-of-the-mill Porsche Carrera.

Then the noise stops, and Baku vanishes. We’re inside a low-slung brick building nestled in the Oxfordshire countryside. The track, projected onto a CinemaScope-sized wraparound screen, was a mirage, part of a sophisticated training simulator. (F1 rules prohibit driving the real cars between races.) Mr. Sargeant climbs out of a replica driver’s seat wearing athletic pants. He won’t need a fireproof suit until later.

In three weeks’ time, Mr. Sargeant will do this for real: wind whipping his visor, G-forces of up to six times his body weight pressing on his neck, the ever-present threat of a catastrophic crash as he is watched by roughly 70 million people around the world. For now, it’s time for lunch. “Is chili bad for you?” he asks, digging into a bowl at his team’s commissary. “I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Williams Racing, in Grove, England. It was founded in Oxfordshire in the 1970s, but it’s now an American subsidiary: a Manhattan private equity firm, Dorilton Capital, bought the company in 2020 for an estimated $200 million.

F1 teams employ hundreds of employees and spend hundreds of millions of dollars developing the world’s most sophisticated racecars.

Reaching Formula 1, the highest level of international motor sport, is a big step for Mr. Sargeant, 22, a South Florida native who began racing rudimentary cars known as karts at 6 years old and this year joined the Williams Racing team as the first full-time American F1 driver since 2007.

For Formula 1 itself, finding a hometown hero for American fans is a giant leap.

Although it is enormously popular in Europe, F1 struggled for decades to break into the United States. That began to change in 2016, when the sport was purchased for $4.4 billion by the Colorado-based Liberty Media, owned by the cable magnate John Malone. Liberty ramped up its social media — F1 had barely kept a YouTube page — and backed a popular Netflix documentary series, “Drive to Survive.” Once geared toward aging white men, F1 now has a younger and more diverse fan base. American TV viewership is up 220 percent from 2018, and the sport made $2.6 billion in revenue last year.

Still, a subset of F1 devotees complain about what they see as an overemphasis on entertainment and ginned-up drama. Under Liberty, they argue, pure racing is taking a back seat to cheap tricks to reel in casual viewers. And they often use a dirty word for it: Americanization. “It is becoming more and more like Formula Hollywood,” Bernie Ecclestone, the 92-year-old Briton who built F1 into a global business, griped last year. “F1 is being made more and more for the American market.”

The backlash reached a crescendo at last week’s Miami Grand Prix, which was added in 2022 as a showpiece for American fans. In a prizefight-style pre-race ceremony, the rapper LL Cool J introduced the 20 drivers one by one amid swirling smoke and a squad of cheerleaders. Nearby, Will.i.am conducted a live orchestra playing the rap song he recently recorded with Lil Wayne as part of a “global music collaboration” with Formula 1. (The lyrics rhyme “Max Verstappen,” the name of the sport’s top driver, with “your champion.”)

“Pandering to the American audience is killing @F1,” wrote one fan on Twitter, echoing criticism that bubbled up across numerous F1 websites. Even the racers complained: “None of the drivers like it,” groused Lando Norris, a Briton who drives for McLaren. Undeterred, Liberty announced that the bombastic pre-race sequence would be featured at several more grands prix this year.

In the United States, F1 has long been associated with a certain European mystique, most famously, the louche glamour of the Monaco Grand Prix.

In the United States, F1 has long been associated with a certain European mystique. Its drivers race across the Ardennes forest (Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps in Belgium), the plains of Lombardy (Italy’s Autodromo Nazionale di Monza) and, most famously, the louche glamour of the Monaco Grand Prix. The sport’s stateside image could be summed up by the 2006 comedy, “Talladega Nights: The Ballad of Ricky Bobby,” which featured Sacha Baron Cohen as a pretentious French F1 driver named Jean Girard, a snooty Eurotrash foil to Will Ferrell’s macho NASCAR cowboy.

In 2023, F1 can feel a bit more Ricky Bobby than Jean Girard. In Miami, drivers circled a track built in the parking lot of the Dolphins football stadium, past an artificial Monaco-style “harbor”: blue-painted asphalt topped with ersatz yachts. A new Las Vegas race in November will have cars zooming down the Strip past Caesars Palace. Meanwhile, traditional races in France and Germany are gone.

Katy Fairman, a journalist based in Brighton, England, who runs the F1 podcast “Small Torque,” said she was surprised by the spectacle when she attended a race in Austin, Texas. “There were girls with pompoms,” she said. “I remember watching it and thinking, Oh my gosh, this is so different from anything I’d seen F1 do in a long time.”

Ms. Fairman conceded that some Europeans find the American hullabaloo “tacky.” But she added: “When it’s something to do with America, I think Europeans are quite judgmental. I think it’s just a bit of lighthearted fun. You guys like to have a party.”

The arrival of Mr. Sargeant, who grew up about an hour’s drive from the Miami racetrack, has spurred new interest, including a profile and photo shoot in GQ, and he’s happy to play the part. “What’s up America, let’s bring that energy!” he shouted to the cameras after LL Cool J introduced him as “the local boy done good.”

But as with F1, there are growing pains. In Miami, Mr. Sargeant finished last, his race ruined on the first lap when he damaged a front wing. After the checkered flag, he apologized to his team, his voice barely a whisper: “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe it.”

Weeks earlier, in an interview in England, Mr. Sargeant had demurred about the pressure of wearing the stars and stripes. “I try not to get too caught up in the talk of the role of ‘first American,’” he said. “It’s still very early for me, and I have a lot to learn still.”

If Mr. Sargeant doesn’t perform, there are dozens of drivers eager to take his spot. “At the moment,” he said, “I just have to worry about staying here.”

For a globe-trotting athlete, Mr. Sargeant can be soft-spoken and endearingly self-conscious.

‘I just want to get back in the gym.’

Before his tough Miami weekend, Mr. Sargeant was asked how he would celebrate a top 10 finish. “Honestly, it might sound lame, but probably just go back to my house and get in my bed for another night before I go back to London,” he replied. “That’s all I want to do.”

For a wealthy, handsome, globe-trotting athlete, Mr. Sargeant can be soft-spoken and endearingly self-conscious. It’s not unusual for someone who, like a tennis prodigy or Olympian gymnast, has devoted their life since childhood to a sole pursuit.

Mr. Sargeant was 6 when he and his brother Dalton got a kart from their parents for Christmas. “No one in the family was really even that much into racing,” Logan said. “We just picked it up as a hobby, something to do on the weekend.” He began winning junior races around the country — too easily. To reach the next level and pursue Formula 1, he’d have to leave behind his friends and beloved fishing excursions for life on a different continent: “We just needed a higher level of competition, and at the end of the day, that was in Europe.”

Mr. Sargeant left Florida before his 13th birthday, bouncing between Italy, Switzerland and Britain as he raced on the European junior circuit; in 2015, he became the first American to win the Karting World Championship since 1978. “As a kid, it was tough,” he recalled. “Coming from Florida, being outdoors all the time on the water, great weather — it was literally vice versa.” He eventually settled in London, where he spends most days working out with a trainer. “I get away from a race weekend, and I just want to get back in the gym,” he said. “I hate that feeling of leaving slack on the table.”

It is incredibly difficult to nab a seat in Formula 1. Today’s drivers are physical dynamos trained to optimize their reflexes and performance levels down to how well they can withstand jet lag — critical in a sport that this year will include 23 grands prix spread over five continents. F1 teams employ hundreds of employees and spend hundreds of millions of dollars developing the world’s most sophisticated racecars. But it’s ultimately up to the driver to execute.

It also helps to have money. Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion and F1’s only Black driver, is an exception, having grown up on a London council estate. Many F1 competitors are the sons of multimillionaires (and some billionaires) who can bankroll pricey travel and high-tech cars.

Mr. Sargeant falls into the scion category. He hails from a wealthy Florida asphalt shipping family. His uncle, Harry Sargeant III, is a former fighter pilot and onetime finance chair of Florida’s Republican Party who has been sued by the brother-in-law of King Abdullah II of Jordan and whose name turned up, tangentially, in the 2020 impeachment of former President Donald J. Trump. (Harry was not accused of any wrongdoing.)

Logan’s father, Daniel Sargeant, worked alongside Harry until the brothers had a falling out. In a 2013 lawsuit, Harry accused Daniel of misdirecting $6.5 million in corporate funds “for the purpose of advancing the international cart racing activities” of his sons, Logan and Dalton; that litigation was eventually settled.

In 2019, Daniel Sargeant pleaded guilty in federal court in New York to foreign bribery and money laundering charges related to his business dealings abroad. He is free on a $5 million bond and is awaiting sentencing. A Williams spokesman said that Logan Sargeant was not “in a position to comment” on any of the legal matters involving his family.

In F1, none of this particularly stands out. The mother of Mr. Sargeant’s Williams teammate, Alexander Albon, was jailed in Britain for swindling millions of pounds in fraudulent sales of high-end cars. A Russian racer, Nikita Mazepin, was booted from the sport after his oligarch father, a close ally of President Vladimir V. Putin, was sanctioned following the 2022 invasion of Ukraine.

James Vowles, the Williams team principal, said in an interview that he hired Mr. Sargeant for his speed, not his U.S. passport. “I’m incredibly pleased that the sport is growing in America, but I think it would be anything but disingenuous to say that Logan’s here for any other reason than I think he’s got this pure talent,” he said.

In his F1 debut in Bahrain in March, Mr. Sargeant finished 12th, outpacing this year’s two other rookies. “He has this insatiable desire to be better, to want more,” Mr. Vowles said. “He’s a perfectionist, and I like that in him.”

Tooting around in a Vauxhall Astra

Britain, where Formula 1 originated in 1950, remains the sport’s spiritual home, where most of its 10 teams are based. Williams was founded in Oxfordshire in the 1970s, but it’s now an American subsidiary: a Manhattan private equity firm, Dorilton Capital, bought the company in 2020 for an estimated $200 million.

It was an important cash infusion for a team that had struggled to keep up with rivals. Manufacturers like Mercedes-Benz pour enormous resources into their F1 teams, which double as an elaborate global marketing campaign and an in-house innovation farm; tech developed for F1, like engines that recycle braking energy as an accelerant, can trickle into consumer vehicles.

Formula 1 car simulators at the Williams Racing factory.

Formula 1 drivers practice on sophisticated training simulators.

The Williams campus is a humdrum brick pile that could be mistaken for an office park — a far cry from McLaren’s space-age complex an hour’s drive away. Many F1 teams provide their drivers with a high-end sports car for personal use; Mr. Sargeant commutes in a Vauxhall Astra, a compact.

Even the team’s sponsors are relatively down-market; whereas the official watch of Ferrari is Richard Mille (starting price: $60,000), Williams has a deal with Bremont, whose timepieces retail for significantly less. (On a recent visit, a Williams press aide was quick to extract a spare Bremont watch from his pocket and ensure Mr. Sargeant was wearing it whenever a photographer hovered.)

Given the huge costs, corporate partnerships are crucial to F1, part of the reason the American market, with its abundance of affluent consumers and wealthy brands, has proved so tempting. Gerald Donaldson, a journalist who has covered F1 for 45 years, recalled how cars were gradually taken over by corporate logos starting in the late 1960s.

“Marlboro paid all the Ferrari bills, including the drivers, for many years,” he said in an interview. “There are eager companies who want the publicity.” Mr. Sargeant’s car features ads for Michelob Ultra beer and an American financial firm, Stephens. In Miami last weekend, beachgoers spotted an airborne banner reading “Go Logan!” alongside the image of a Duracell battery.

Last year, the Miami race was viewed on ABC by 2.6 million people, the biggest American audience for a live F1 telecast. Ratings for this year’s race fell about 25 percent, perhaps a result of a duller-than-usual season dominated by one team, Red Bull.

Still, viewing data show that F1 is expanding beyond affluent cities associated with elite sports: In 2022, its top five American TV markets included Asheville, N.C., and Tulsa, Okla. ESPN is clearly betting on more growth. When the sports network renewed its broadcast rights last year, it agreed to pay $90 million annually — up from the $5 million-a-year deal it signed in 2019.

Liam Parker, a former adviser to Boris Johnson who now leads communications at F1, said the sport was intent on rectifying past mistakes. “We were too arrogant,” he said. “We couldn’t understand why the American fan base wasn’t falling in love with us.” But he also pushed back on the complaints that Liberty’s efforts to raise the entertainment factor had stripped F1 of something essential.

“This whole argument of ‘Americanization,’ it’s a very crude way to describe things,” he said. “We shouldn’t ignore things that can improve things for new and core fans. It’s about giving people more choices in the modern era. It’s modernization of access to everyone.”

Mr. Hamilton, arguably the biggest celebrity of the current F1 lineup, has offered his own endorsement of Liberty’s approach. “I mean jeez, I grew up listening to LL Cool J,” he told reporters in Miami. “I thought it was cool, wasn’t an issue to me.”

For all the debates over elitism, good taste and corporate rap collaborations, the core appeal of F1, when you get right down to it, may be something simpler — something Mr. Sargeant got at when asked in the interview if he had loved cars as a kid.

“I absolutely love driving, as you can imagine,” he said. “But to be honest, I’m not one of those people who studies cars and, you know, likes to know every detail of every single car. It doesn’t really interest me.”

“The part that interests me,” he concluded, “is driving them as fast as I can go.”

Eliza Shapiro contributed reporting from Miami. Kitty Bennett contributed research. Michael M. Grynbaum is a media correspondent covering the intersection of business, culture and politics. A version of this article appears in print on May 14, 2023, Section BU, Page 1 of the New York edition with the headline: The Florida Man Of Formula 1.

#logan sargeant #year:2023 #source:newspaper #one of the best logan articles imo #feel free to message me if you want me to gift you a copy of this article from the NYT with my subscription

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inneedofsupervision · 5 months ago

Text

I didn't ask, did I? (Chapter 4)

Happy begrudgingly steps aside and walks after Tony into the diner. The billionaire skillfully ignores the gasps of surprise and the poor attempt to take pictures of him secretly as he strides straight up to the counter. "Two cheeseburgers and a large fry. To go." "Please get in line and wait for your turn, Sir." "Excuse me?" Tony slowly pulls his sunglasses down and glances at the skinny teen behind the register. "Bad hearing comes with age, huh?" mutters the teen under his breath. Happy makes a choking sound behind him. ___________________ Or, how Tony Stark gets sassed by some high schooler working part-time and makes it his mission to figure out what he did to make this kid he'd never seen hate him. If that means annoying the hell out of said high schooler, that's not his problem.

Chapter: 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

Chapter Summary: Tony makes the first move.

Read on Ao3

"Sir, your order will be delivered in approximately thirty seconds."

"It's about time. I am famished."

Tony pulls the cap deeper into his face before glancing up from his StarkPhone. The voice of his AI rings with a hint of judgment out of the phone speaker. "It certainly would have been quicker if you ordered from the shop at Forest Ave and not Manhattan, Sir."

He grins at that. "But where is the fun in that, Friday?"

Tony squints at the silhouette of a person walking purposefully in his direction. He puts his right ankle over his knee, the embodiment of relaxation. Catching the paper bag flung at him with ease, the corners of Tony's mouth draw up into a self-satisfied grin. What could be better than the magnificent smell of tacos and victory? The reason for his markedly good mood stands a few feet before him, staring him down with a heat that makes Johnny Storm look like a matchstick.

"I hope you choke on it."

What a sight.

Peter Parker in a Taco Bell server uniform, looking earnestly pissed off. Tony should take a picture while it lasts.

"Nah, what kind of harsh greeting this is after I've made it possible for you to get a free ride with the Staten Island Ferry. How did you like it? Took some selfies with the Statue of Liberty?"

God, could the kid's glare turn any more vile?

The teen crosses his arms over his chest. "You can use the Staten Island Ferry for free. You didn't do anything."

"Listen to that," Tony praises mockingly. "Should have expected the smartest student of Midtown High to catch on quickly."

The kid narrows his eyes at the comment. "What do you know about Midtown High?"

He ignores the teen's question and bites into a taco.

"How is your strikingly looking aunt doing?" he asks instead, noticing how the kid stiffens up at the question.

"Could be better," answers the teen slowly. The hesitation in his answer makes the corner of his lips tug upwards. It entertains him immensely how the kid fishes for information, trying to estimate how much Tony truly knows about him.

The man decides to humor him.

"Oh, I could imagine. If my nephew traipses across the city far past his curfew, I'd be worried sick, too. You're quite lucky as she's working a double shift, not knowing anything about your little side jobs. She's probably thinking her darling nephew is at home, sleeping like a little angel."

The kids stares at him, jaw clenched and lips pressed into a thin line.

"What are you working so hard for, huh? What could a high schooler like you need three jobs for, Mr. Parker? Yeah, that's right. I know about you playing Mr. Fix-It for your school pals and the little photography quip for the Bugle."

Tony stands up, pulling out a hundred bucks. He steps over to the teen and slips the bill into his breast pocket.

"That's for buying a new camera. Maybe you get some better motives than Spider-Man." He sniffs. "How about Iron Man? Rumors say he got a new suit. It's very photogenic."

Clapping the teen on the shoulder, he is about to walk past when a hand wraps around his wrist.

Peter Parker looks about ready to punch him in the face.

"Even if I did tell you what you did, it wouldn't change anything. Because you fail to recognize that your actions cause repercussion, and I am sick of it," spits the teen before letting his arm go.

Tony's eyes widen before he grins in self-satisfaction.

"Ha! I knew there was something!"

Parker looks at him like he lost it. "That's what you take from this? Are you serious?"

The billionaire pays no attention to Parker as the teen stomps down the direction he came from, too busy celebrating himself for trusting his hunch and being right. It needs Friday's voice to make him look around and notice he's the only person left in front of the fountain.

"Sir, Mrs Potts asked you to keep from picking fights with employees, especially minors."

Tony rolls his eyes.

"Friday, please. Where did that look like a fight?"

"You are right, Sir. I apologize. It seems more like a case of bullying."

Tony lifts an eyebrow.

"Did you forget what the kid did to me? Who's side are you on, Friday?"

"Sir, you demanded a minor and underpaid employee of a Taco Bell to deliver your order from Manhatten to Staten Island in the middle of the night with a shop of the same brand meters away from your current location."

"Are you trying to guilt trip me? Cause it's not working."

"I am merely appealing to your understanding of humanity and responsibility, Sir."

He takes the rest of the food and throws it into a bin. "How am I responsible for a teen using a fake ID to work in the middle of the night? That stunt of teen revolution is his problem, not mine."

"Sir, you are being childish."

"Bold of you to assume I'd care if you call me that when I hear that from Pepper all the time."

"Sir, it would be best to keep from irritating Mr. Parker any further. I am afraid you will find yourself in more trouble than Mrs Potts and the PR Team can prevent from happening."

Tony snorts.

"Please, what could that kid do? Cause another scene at a new Fast-Food place? The pace with which the kid is fired and newly hired is astounding."

"Sir, you have been responsible for Mr. Parker getting fired from his last two part-time jobs. It won't come as a surprise if further confrontation leads to a situation that will be hard to handle."

Rolling his eyes, Tony unlocks his car. He slides into the seat and takes off his sunglasses.

"I believe it when I see it, Fri."

#peter parker #spider man #iron man #tony stark #marvel #spider man fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfic series #spider man fanfiction #iron man fanfiction #friday

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