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ask-serendipity-sky · 10 months

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"I cannot for the love of the gods come up with a theory on why Jk is ok with getting all this nice promo while Jimin got nothing". How about u try to change your solo perspective that makes u look at jimin like a victim all the time? Jimin GOT promotions, and a big one, money related. He had 2 mv that took a lot of budget and preparations: the 2 mv needed sets to be created, and SMFPT2 set was HUGE. He promoted at korean music shows, which too took a lot of money to build those giant sets. Yes, he did have a short promotion period, for reasons we dont know but my guess is that Suga needed to do his comeback because of the tour and i hate the person who came up with those dates but ok... We all know Face promotions got some biiiig problems and im still mad about it, we just dont know what really happened, but i'm sure jimin would fight back if he thought he was being mistreated. But to say that jm got zero promotions... nah

Face, Like Crazy and Seven r different projects, with different visions and different goals. Jimin wanted to tell his story of when he was going through a hard time, and he wanted to do it in korean, promoting more in Korea, with songs that, in the end, only him and people close to him know the meaning. Yet, he did AMAZING and made history (is still making). It seems to me that the #1 on hot100 was unexpected to the company and even jm, but yet they did provided to us 2 versions of Like Crazy, one of them being an eng. ver, and promoted at Jimmy Fallon... So maybe they still hoped that the song would do well internationally? (pdogg tho... he just KNEW face would be massive and destroy kpop). But Jungkook... i think that, for a long time now, he aims to achieve western recognition, way more than jm, and thats ok. So Seven obviously is a song to the US market, and all of us know that. The song is in english, is very pop, written and produced by an american guy that is responsable to other huge hits. It is made to be stuck in our heads, not to make us think about deep things. It is breaking and will break so many records just like LC, but the difference is that the success is THE GOAL (remember all of that Scooter posts on his ig?). Jimin wanted to tell his truth with Face, Jk wants to be closer to being a big pop star with Seven. So, of course Seven would get a different type of promotion.

And btw, just because the song is doing really good and is aiming to the US market, doesnt mean it is by having deals and paying for playing. Its the Jeon Jungkook, of BTS, we are talking about. Jk seems very happy and jimin seems happy for him. I dont think jimin would support jk if he thought he was doing wrong. He didnt post anything, but he did not post about L&R and Dreamers too. He supported jk with Dreamers by posting about his presentation at Qatar, and now he supported seven by going all the way to NYC to be with him.

All of this to say: Jimin is not a victim, he is a badass and he knows how to stand up for himself. When will you come out as a solo, btw? its getting old...

Hi anon,

When will you try thinking for once instead of being a parrot and writing what you've read in other blogs?

Your entire ask is wrong. I don't even know where to start.

YOU sound like a jjk solo or delusional jikooker or Jk biased jikooker.

But you know what? Call me a solo. I don't mind. Anyone who ever defends Jimin or loves Jimin is always called a solo. Why? Because no body else defends him or loves him like solos do. So, sure. Call me a solo.

First of all, we are talking about THE Park Jimin. Of BTS. That's who are talking about.

I'm done with people who, somehow for some delusional reason, think Jimin is inferior to Jungkook. You know nothing about Jimin if you think this.

I've NEVER said that Jimin got 0 promotions. I've been screaming (into the void, apparently) that Jimin only got 9 days of promo that were too hard on his body and had to wear it kt tape for weeks after. I've been screaming that the company is sabotaging him and it's true. People who actually know things about the company know this quite well too.

Take a look at everything and the sabotage is obvious. But look let's start here:

This same guy posts on DC gallery:

Yes, Jimin's promo costs money. But so did everyone's. How much do you think payola costs? That's much pricier than what Jimin's promo costs. And either way, Jimin was a return investment.

Not only did Jimin's place on the charts affect Hybe. It also affected other companies.

And right now the stock at Hybe at decreasing and foreign shareholders are selling to make it seem like Jk's position on the chart will have a bigger impact than it actually will:

Just watch.

You are proving me right with everything else:

So sure, let's sacrifice Jimin's promo time for Suga even though Suga was the one that postponed his album because it wasn't ready.

Jimin had 2 mvs. Suga had how many? And he had a whole tour too.

Jimin didn't have any visualizers. Jk had how many?

Jimin had 5 versions of Like Crazy. Jk has how many?

Jimin's Like Crazy cd was never stocked. Jk's has been stocked how many times?

You think Jimin doesn't want international recognition? Like Crazy was released in ENGLISH for a purpose.

After Jimin's no.1, if they wanted Like Crazy to succeed in the US market, they would have at least sent it to radio. This would have avoided freefall. They would have also shipped albums on time. They would have also informed us of the rule change for online sales instead of waiting until Suga's album was coming out.

It was the fans that were begging radio to play Like Crazy and the only way to play it was from the mv on YouTube:

There are so many things they could have done differently. They can still do them but they choose not to.

Did you see what was trending today?

Did you trend this, anon? Since you are so "mad about this"?

You think FACE wasn't created with success in mind? Pdogg came out and said it would break kpop because Pdogg knew what masterpiece FACE is.

You don't have to think deep with Like Crazy or any of the song...um just listen to them?

And don't be daft about Seven:

And other things. Search "Seven payola" on twitter and you will find it.

So yeah. You are wrong.

If you don't see it, that's because you choose to not see it.

Stop pretending that you "are still mad about it". You don't care about Jimin and only want him for your stupid ship and for him to be Jk's cheerleader.

Ah and he went to NYC for a work thing and to support Jungkook. But he hasn't posted a single thing about Seven. He did post about Dreamers and Left and Right. But no Seven.

You think Jimin only wanted those close to him to listen to his music and know the meaning? He spent 10 months working on this album, hours practicing choreography, dieting, for stupid fans like you to say things like these?

I don't even want to see when he releases new music, appears in stuff with Jungkook, or leaves for military service. All these fake fans will be crying and uwuing when they couldn't lift a finger for him during all this.

To those that try to send others on guilt trips because we defend Jimin or point out the injustices: Are you guys even streaming Seven and Like Crazy to "support them equally"?

At least taekookers have taekook playlists and streaming parties for Jk and Tae. I haven't seen a single playlist around here that has both Jk and Jimin. But yeah, you all are supporters of jikook.

You all come and try to send me on a guilt trip but you all are worse than me. For reals.

You don't deserve Jimin. You and all the people who keep saying all this bullshit because it fits their stupid theories and shipping fantasies don't deserve him.

Jimin deserves so much more than this.

So just stop. Don't come to my blog.

#skyasks #jikook #jimin #toxic jikookers #fake ass fans

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faeriekit · 2 months

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The Foster Mother

Now on ao3 and VHS release

There was, supposedly, someone waiting for him in the green sitting room.

“…Why?” Tim asked. Most of the usual suspects had already come by to give their “condolences”—former Drakes Industries investors, curious about the newly orphaned heir; fellow socialites, once again flocking in to give and receive sympathies for their “close friends, the Drakes”; gawkers come to see what they could scavenge off of a dead family’s home, never mind that their child was alive.

“She claims to know you, Master Tim,” Alfred offered, kettle in his hand. He spent a moment deciding between different two canisters of tea; a sign of possibly difficult future conversation. “Her interest in your father's estate seemed quite…minimal.”

…Alright.

Tim was still in his formalwear. Dissolving Drake Industries would take at least another year, and plenty of future hours cementing the future home of certain resources in their dissolution, but the outfit probably was more appropriate for whatever oncoming conversation that was about to ensue than his planned change into Dick’s old hoodie and board shorts.

Okay. Tim steeled himself. The self-determination…mostly worked. Whatever. He trudged up into the green sitting room from the kitchen with his usual introduction ready on his tongue.

And then Tim walked into the room.

And then Jazzy was there.

Tim had been three, and Miss Jasmine had been his had been his third nanny. He’d outgrown the wetnurse early on, and his second nanny had been dismissed, so although Miss Jasmine was the third nanny, she was first nanny Tim could consciously remember.

She’d had red hair. She’d been very gentle with him.

She got him up in the morning and put him to bed at night; for the first time, there had been someone who sat with him until he was asleep, reading all sorts of books his parents had left to engage him with as an early genius. Then, when those were over and done as promised to his parents, they got unauthorized books from the library: silly books with made-up words, dinosaur books, books about teddy bears and adventures around the world.

Tim hadn’t been allowed to travel the world. Tim hadn’t been allowed a teddy bear. His parents had thought it would encourage undue attachment.

(It had been the same reason he’d never been given a pacifier.)

Miss Jazz had given him a knitted bunny. She’d said her dad had made it especially for him.

The toy’s name was Bunny and Tim remembered him being very soft.

She didn’t smile all the time, but smiles were rewards that were easy to earn. He finished his meal and she smiled. He finished an educational puzzle and she smiled. He was quiet all through her phone call and she smiled, and answered all his questions once she was done.

Jazzy had been the first person in his life who was there all the time. She’d kissed his forehead after the bath and kissed his scraped knees; she’d carried him in his arms when he was tired and sometimes even when he wasn’t. His parents had wanted him to be independent, proactive, and not clingy, but Jazzy had been someone who he could run to from his bed when he’d had nightmares and someone he could cuddle on her lap with when he’d cried.

She was gone when he was seven. He didn’t remember why. His parents had probably never told him, but still; he'd assumed he'd have found out why eventually.

Jazzy looked the same right now as she looked in Tim’s memories, although she was likely no longer a college student at a nannying gig. Her red hair was pulled into a high bun, her dress modest and conservative from her neck to her ankles. There was a backpack beside her foot. She was sitting, one leg crossed over the other, on the high-backed loveseat in the green sitting room.

She looked up when he came in.

Tim. Stopped in his tracks.

It didn’t matter. Jazzy—Miss Jasmine stood up as soon as she saw him, eyes alight with worry. Foggy memories were swimming to the forefront of Tim’s brain. He couldn’t move.

“Tim?” Ja—Miss Jasmine asked, teal eyes raking over his frame. Tim froze where he was. He didn’t move, wide-eyed and terrified for no reason at all when Miss Jasmine got closer to him, at a distance that was more appropriate for a conversation.

She stood there. Watching him. It felt like his mother had just come home from her trips with Dad, and a ghost of old terror wafted through him as he waited for her to decide he’d done something wrong. Her voice got softer. Her eyes got softer. Why was Tim feeling so wrong-footed?? It was only a former staff person!

“Tim?” her voice was so gentle. “I don’t know if you remember me. I’m—“

“M’s Jazz,” Tim croaked. Which. Wasn’t the level of formality he’d been going for, but better than Jazzy. He wasn’t a toddler anymore.

Miss Jasmine was so tall—honestly, was she taller than Bruce? She’d seemed insurmountable as a child; he hadn’t expected her height to truly be so statuesque as an adult.

(Or. Well. Almost an adult.)

She didn’t quite kneel down, but she did stoop lower, as if Tim was small and he needed to be on equal footing in order to have a serious conversation.

He could see all her freckles. Tim swallowed. It was too familiar. Everything about her was too familiar.

“You’re so big now,” Jazzy whispered, looking at his hair, his suit, his polished shoes. He didn’t feel it. “Oh, you’ve grown up so well.”

Thanks, Tim almost said. Something stopped him—something thick in his throat, to impassable to break through.

“I—“ he tried. He coughed. “Why…you… You’re here?”

Jazzy threw him an incredulous look, and then an incredibly wry one. “Well,” she drawled a little too primly, in the way that Alfred occasionally made obvious statements, “I’d think it obvious that when one’s parents have passed away, that those who care about you might come to check and see if you’re alright.”

Which. That didn’t make sense. Jazzy hadn’t come back for any other reason; she hadn’t come back for his mother’s funeral, nor when his father was injured publicly by a villain. Why start now?

“And,” Jazz added, seeing his visual confusion and distrust, “Your parents can’t exactly threaten me with a kidnapping charge for visiting you when they’re dead.” Pause. “Which I am sorry about. My condolences.”

Which. Whiplash. What a statement.

“Uh,” said Tim, who was rapidly losing control over the situation.

Jazzy stood again, and went back to her seat; she didn’t set herself down, though, as she only stooped to grab her backpack. “I am sorry for being unable to visit, although I really wanted to; you were at a very vulnerable age and had already moved into a class a year above you, and your parents should have been less hasty about replacing your main caretaker. The assassination attempts were unwarranted, but they did drive the point home that attempting contact was perhaps discouraged.”

“What,” said Tim. “Assassin what.”

“They were ninjas,” Jazzy offered, as if that was an answer. “Except the last one, which was a former marine. The point is that I do care about you, and wanted to ask if you had any idea where you’re going now that your parents are no longer…available guardians.”

Tim’s mouth opened. It closed.

Jazzy waited patiently.

“…How have you been?” Tim tried, resorting to a part of the script they hadn’t gone through yet.

Jazzy’s laugh was tired, but no less real. It was nothing like listening to his parents titter politely; he didn’t think Jazzy would even know how to fake a laugh. “Well, my brother told me that my former bosses had died, which was somewhat stressful. Otherwise, I’m pretty happy: I live with my brother and worked with him for the last few years. I was going to pursue medicine, but…well. The assassination attempts made it hard to interview for scholarships. I suppose that I could return to that now,” Jazzy mused, attention now elsewhere. She pulled the backpack off the floor and up into her grip. She opened it, and flipped through its contents. “How are you doing? I know that Wayne Manor fosters, but your parents were always rather…hands off. I thought the difference in levels of attention might be overwhelming.”

It was. Tim should be surprised how clearly she sees through him—

—But Jazzy used to watch him stim for almost a full hour after school, twisting Bunny’s arms back and forth until he could calm down. Seeing other people all day had been too much for him. Coming home from his parents’ parties had been similarly stressful.

She’d never been mad at him for it. She held him while he talked and stimmed and talked and talked and talked, and brushed his hair sometimes, or if it was very late and he was very young, helped him brush his teeth through all the medieval execution facts he could name.

“It is a lot to get used to,” Tim agreed quietly. He didn’t want to be ungrateful. He didn’t want to let on anyone about his plan to leave.

He had an out. The papers had already been filed; there was an actor waiting to play his uncle for a custody battle, ready for the fight.

Tim was ready to up and go. It was no hardship to leave all the good things here; anything beat making Bruce stick his fingers into Tim any deeper than they already were, compromising the dynamic they’d already established.

It was for the best.

“I can imagine,” Jazzy sympathized easily. “And I wanted to offer—well. I know there’s probably a lot of choices available to you, but my brother and I recently moved back to Gotham proper for the time being. He’s teaching astronomy courses at the university and I’m filing paperwork for Arkham patients. It’s not so privileged a home, but it’s quieter, and more central in town.”

…Tim’s heart skipped.

He. He couldn’t stop staring. Jazzy stared back at him, quiet and sure. Sure of what, Tim had no idea, but…

Why? Why would she want Tim? There was no way she would be able to get to his trust fund without his help, and he for sure knew better than to enable her ability to leech from him. The last time she’d known him, Tim had been a snot-nosed kid who cried all the time and couldn’t be normal for twenty consecutive minutes. His parents couldn’t even stand to be on the same hemisphere as him as a child. What appeal did this have for her?? What could having a teenager with severe baggage living in her house do for her?

And it’s not like there was any chance she knew he was Robin!

“Oh,” Jazzy suddenly interrupted. “I brought these for you, by the way. Your parents had tossed them out at various points; I’ve washed them since, of course.”

She handed him the backpack by the handle.

…Tim peeked inside.

On top was Bunny, still a washed-out faded sort of pink. He looked as fresh as he had the day when Tim’s parents had ”cleaned out” Tim’s nursery—in other words, a faded, a little gray, and slightly discolored from an old spaghetti stain. His button eyes were big and blue.

And beneath him were books that hadn’t passed his father’s muster as appropriately masculine reading material: The Velveteen Rabbit, with the cover a little scarred from a fierce attack of wet wipes. There’s A Monster at the End of This Book, with a goofy-looking Muppet on the cover, gold spine beat up beyond belief. Art Tim’s teacher at the time must have laminated and sent home; Tim’s dorky, crayon cat proved he would never make it as an artist, but attached to it was a photograph of a grinning boy with a bowl cut and a missing tooth.

Tim stared. There’d been purple marker on his hands and face. His grin looked…really bad, actually, like as if he was baring his teeth because he didn’t know how to smile. There was no formal grace there. Nothing to show the neighbors, nothing worth framing to put into the line of sight of the investors in the office.

Jazzy had kept it and brought it home with her. Jazzy had fished it out of the trash, and brought it with her to give back to him in Gotham.

It was crinkled like it’d been folded, over and over again. Further down in the bag was a crumpled certificate dedicated to “Timmy Drake, for: knowing a lot about octopi”, and a baby blanket Tim didn’t even remember. It had rocket ships on it. It looked as if someone had cut into it with scissors, although it had been obviously and brightly mended with red embroidery floss later on.

Jazzy had only been his nanny until Tim was seven. She had simply been gone one night, and Mom and Dad had been home for ten nights after without help before giving in and hiring Mrs. McIlvane and Mrs. Edith. Ms. Edith had never been so…permissive…with Tim as Jazzy had been.

Tim swallowed. He carefully put everything back into the backpack, unsure if he even wanted to keep it or not. It wasn’t like he could leave it here; he’d be gone, ideally, before the week was out. There was no point in taking it with him if he only planned to live with a stranger until he was eighteen.

“J…” Tim tried. He cut himself off before he could get too informal without prompting. “Miss Jasmine—“

“Just Jazz,” Jazzy corrected politely.

“—Why are you here?” Tim asked, ignoring how she’d technically already answered. He didn’t believe her. “What made my parents fire you?”

Jazzy’s expression turned…soft. Tim couldn’t look at her. Something horrible was welling with it, and he didn’t know how to cope.

“I’m here because I care about you,” Jazz repeated, and knelt beside him. She looked up into his face, and took his hand. Tim didn’t know why. He was practically an adult—he didn’t need this!

“And I was fired because your Mother overheard you calling me ‘Mommy’ on accident when you were tired. I suppose she was insulted, although I’d never know why; it’s not like she was ever home to bond with you in the first place.”

Tim’s throat closed. He missed his mom. He missed waiting up for his parents’ flight home, seeing their headlights outside the window, and knowing they’d bring home gifts from overseas. He missed using Mom’s perfume, and knowing he’d used more of the bottle sitting on her dressed than she ever had, but that it still smelled like her. He missed hearing his Dad telling all sorts of adventure stories and promises through the phone to be home for the holidays, even if Tim knew there was every chance he’d find some other way to spend the time back in Gotham.

And there was some small child in him who missed Jazzy, who hugged him and walked him to the library and made him soup from a can instead of fancy dinners and, who’d never needed to be waited for in the first place.

Tim looked at Jazzy’s round, freckled face.

He swallowed.

Tim moved out before the end of the week, as expected.

#dp x dc #Jazz fenton #tim drake #that one time Tim specifically hired a fake uncle so that Bruce couldn't adopt him #free to a good home #Jack Fenton knits btw #I'm not going to continue this but i thought it was a cool premise and needed its time. Have fun with it if you want to!#this is dedicated to all the fulltime nannies at the library who are fully just college girls raising babies #dpxdc #dcxdp #Jazz said is anyone going to raise this baby and was targeted by ninjas for it #I don't have any future plans BUT there is a moment where Dick tries to sneak into her apt to 'check it out' and she fully Gets Him with a #TBI and a Fenton CreepStickTM #also. parents who try to shape their kids by denying them every form of human comfort and access to their interests. You're dead to me #also also also I'm still a Tim Drake Autistic truther #not NOT inspired by the Say Uncle by Megarakles. This one's for you fellow fans #also. if he goes with her. He gets parented for the first time ever and it Sucks Ass lol.#faer fic

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