#but i understand what other fans are saying i mean

[cherrysurf]

winning you back pt.2

-where haikyu boys try to win back you their ex gf

-this is lwk depressing but maybe it’s bc of the music im listening to rn LMAO

contains; atsumu, tsukishima, kita, sakusa, oikawa, iwaizumi

pt.1 of winning you back here!

atsumu; He still very much has all your pictures on his feed that he never deleted and never will you had to go minimal contact with him because he kept texting you every other day to try to get back together, he still loves you and thinks your gonna be his wife and that this is just a rough patch, so when you post that you’re going to be volunteering at osamu’s restaurant for a charity that osamu is doing for young kids to get into volleyball he takes it upon himself to cancel his practice for that day and go and join you two and begged and forced osamu to make you too work together so he can talk to you, and those dam miya’s being so good and weaseling there way back into life’s, it worked. You two are now talking again. You told him that you wanted to take this slow, but atsumu later that week posted a soft launch of you two at dinner.

tsukishima; tsukishima acts like he’s so nonchalant but no one’s seen him cry over how bad it’s killing him that you can fully ignore him when he’s usually the one doing that. He hates how bad he fucked up so he decided to make a plan to win you back, what does that mean he had to do? work at the same cat cafe as you, at first you weren’t on the same shifts and maybe hanging out with cats was a plus but getting crushed on by other girls wasn’t. Anyways as soon and he saw you two were on the same shift he couldn’t be more happy, it was a slow shift so he used this time to catch up and be very soft and respectful he saw you weren’t fighting back so he was thinking that was a step forward, until later on when a girl came by to order a drink and was clearly flirting with him so tsukishima ignored her, as she said “can i get your number?” you turned to see what he would do all he said was “no i have a girlfriend she’s right there actually, i don’t what gave you the confidence to think you could ask me” he said laughing which left the girl embarrassed and you flustered.

kita; Kita is forever my yearning man. He writes letters for you and sends them, you kept them all because you still didn’t get over him. He thought it was the right choice to let you go but he couldn’t have been more wrong, and I fear kita is the type to have a romantic scene like the movies. So what? anyways he comes by your hour IN THE POURING RAIN. to apologize “i’m sorry im selfish for breaking up with you yn, i just clean up well i forget myself” OOOO YOU END UP SOBBING BC WHO WOULDN'T?! anyways safe to say you kissed in the rain and he won you back

sakusa; stubborn ass ho. He was shocked when you broke things off even more when you actually stood on business, sakusa was one to keep his composure and not crashout but he couldn’t understand why he was so affected by the breakup it’s like his whole life flipped upside down. He even stopped keeping up with himself for a bit which was totally out of the norm. So when you saw him at your apartment in the lates of the night messy hair, wrinkles in his clothes looking dead you knew something was wrong, he almost felt like he could breathe again once you embraced him, disgusting and all and he didn’t let go since and tried to change for the better

oikawa; He acted happy at first like it didn’t matter because he thought you needed him more than he needed you. Oh how wrong he was, the fan girls didn’t support him the way you did, didn’t cheer for him the way you did, no one could cook as good as you, no one could get him out his depression like you could, so one night around 4am he gave you a call wanting to quit volleyball because he felt like he couldn’t do anymore without you there, which broke your heart because you saw how bad he was struggling without you there and that’s when he finally admits “I needed you more than you needed me. Come back yn, i’m sorry” and you did because you needed him just as much as he needed you.

iwaizumi; it was mutual breakup but not really he just did whatever he could to make you happy he hated fighting with you, he never deleted your pictures, he still kept all your stuff that you didn’t take at his house, he was still loyal even if you weren’t together, He blamed himself for not fighting back. he became very very career oriented that’s when he saw you at a job interview, you had just finished interviewing for the place he works at as a sports medical assistant. you weren’t aware he was working there so he stopped you and asked to get lunch since you were leaving and he was on his lunch break. That's where he apologized for not doing more and still thought about you and asked for a redo and would do anything for a second chance, and you agreed because you felt the same.

tags; @solarvrse (for the atsumu one) @sahrii (for the iwaizumi one)

[mangotangerine]

what if ozzie created hell's version of ao3 and then radiostatic became one of the most popular ships but alastor didn't find out because ew, technology, until one day he did, but the top 69 fics are written by the same person & have incredibly realistic aspects that only one other person in hell would know

well, i wrote it. see below the cut for what i have so far

vox writes fanfic (and his username is alastors_babygirl)

Alastor goes nearly a century without acquiring any of those ridiculous, overdesigned electronic devices that the rest of Hell rots their brain with.

��

Things have been odd as of late. Angel Dust has been giving him strange looks—not the usual objectifying leer meant to evoke discomfort, but something more inquisitive—and Niffty has taken to giggling every time he walks past that tacky television they keep in the lounge. It hadn’t bothered him at first, as Angel Dust has always been a strange fellow, and Niffty is… well, Alastor isn’t sure if even she understands her own whimsy, sometimes.

But now, it’s getting a bit out of hand.

“Niffty, my dear,” Alastor says, “I have a question for you.”

She giggles, likely because he is standing next to the television. She manages to get it under control, though he can still hear the laughter in her voice as she says, “Yes?”

He glances pointedly at the television, then back at Niffty, and her grin widens. She kicks her feet and covers her mouth to hold back the giggles that threaten to erupt, and Alastor sighs. He is not going to get satisfying answers from her. “Never mind,” he says, weary. “Perhaps Charlie knows.”

×

Charlie blushes a bright red and flips her phone face-down in a panic, when he finally asks her in her office.

“Um—um, well…” she trails off, body language broadcasting her discomfort.

“This is getting tiring,” Alastor says, letting irritation bleed into his voice. “Despite my confidence that it is not the case, because who would be so foolish, I feel as though I’m being mocked. It is quite unpleasant.”

“No! No no no!” she squeaks. “No, it’s not that, it’s just…” she takes a deep breath. “The fan fiction.”

“The what now?” Alastor asks, eyebrows furrowing.

She bites her lip, glancing down at her phone. “Asmodeus um… launched this new website,” she starts, and Alastor wrinkles his nose in disgust. Ugh, not this nonsense again. “And, well… people write stories on it about... about media or things they’re fans of. Like—like use the characters and setting, and… andyou’rethemostpopularship,” she says in a rush.

Alastor looks down at himself, and then back up at Charlie. “I didn’t take you for the type to be critical of somebody’s figure, regardless of the inaccuracy of your statement,” he says, clearly disappointed, and Charlie gasps.

“No! Ship—ship, like relationship! Not—I would never.” She’s offended now, frowning at him. “Why would you think I’d—”

“Please, Charlie,” Alastor says sharply, “Explain to me in plain language.”

She bites her lip, then shrinks a little in her seat. “Sometimes people… um, write stories about people, who they think would be good in a relationship… like romance stories.”

“What does this have to do with anything?” Alastor snaps.

“You’re the top—you’re the um, most popular, uh, ship. Relationship. Well, not just you, it takes two—anyway.” She stops, and smiles at him nervously.

“Who is the second party in this ‘relationship’ involving myself?” he asks, eyes narrowed.

When she tells him, he very politely demands to be shown this website, and she meekly flips her phone over and slides it toward him. He looks through it, smile fading slowly until it’s just a barely-there quirk of the lips. “Who?” he asks, unable to hide the venom in his voice. “Who is writing these?”

“Many—many people, Alastor. It’s—there’s—I, I mean, you see how many stories!” she squeaks.

“Do you read the ones where I’m involved with your father?” he asks, suspicious, as he points at the device. She gasps.

“No!” Charlie practically yells. “No, I do—I do not read sex stories about my—”

“Sex stories?” Alastor asks, voice thick with radio distortion, and she covers her mouth in horror at her own mistake.

“I—I mean, not all of them are—I mean, there are a ton that are just—and not just with my dad, but with—you know, him, and they’re—they’re so sweet, Alastor!”

The exhaustion is settling in his bones now, his ever-present smile twisted into a sardonic grimace. “I fail to understand how there can be any stories involving me and that—that walking billboard that are sweet.”

“Well, um…” she hesitates, nervous. “You could… you could read some?”

“I will most certainly not be doing that,” he says. “I will be going now. I appreciate your transparency, as painful as the information was to extract from you.”

Alastor leaves with his signature flourish, melting into the shadows.

×

He goes a week before he folds, though he has one of those egg creatures Sir Pentious left behind procure an electronic device for him instead of trying to find one himself. He then commands it to demonstrate how to navigate to that vapid archive of obscenities everyone seems so enraptured by.

Though there are a lot of these creepy little stories, and just as many writers, the most popular of these ‘fan fiction’ novellas are all written under the same pen name and have very specific personal details that only one other person in Hell would know.

Well, he supposes it has been quite a while since he’s gone to terrorize that tower in person. Why, he’s been positively angelic since his return to the public sphere. It’s time to pay his old friend a visit.

×

He could go in the front door, cause a scene, really ham it up for Vox’s pervasive cameras, but that’s too easy. Too predictable, and what sort of performer would he be if he didn’t improvise and change things up a bit?

Alastor materializes in Vox’s office, behind his chair. He is, unfortunately, not alone, as Alastor had hoped. Startled, Velvette screams, and Alastor turns to blink at her owlishly.

“Was that really necessary?” he asks.

Vox spins around in his chair so fast it keeps spinning, makes 3 revolutions before Vox manages to stop it. Alastor looks Vox up and down, nose wrinkled in distaste.

“I just greased it!” Vox says defensively. “It doesn’t do that all the time, I can—I can control my chair!”

“Why is he here?” Velvette hisses, and Vox points menacingly at Alastor.

“Yeah! Why is he—why are you here?”

Alastor inhales deeply, and lets out a slow, disappointed sigh. “We need to talk.”

“Get out of my fucking tower,” Vox snaps.

“I’d love to,” Alastor says, “as soon as you answer some questions about the creepy little love stories you’ve been writing online.”

Vox blanches, as much as a television screen can blanch—that is, his face turns greyscale, reminding Alastor very distinctly of the picture shows his mother used to take him to as a child. It’s very amusing, on Vox.

“Velvette, get out,” Vox orders, voice sharp. The color slowly bleeds back into his face, one pixel at a time.

Velvette gets up, looking like she’s about to argue, when Alastor turns to face her directly, twirling his microphone in hand as his smile grows.

“Fine, fuck you,” she spits, and makes her way out.

Then it’s just Alastor and Vox. Vox and Alastor. Two old friends. Two old buddies. Pals. Former pals. Ex-partners.

“I can explain,” Vox says, panicked.

“Oh,” Alastor says, sounding delighted. “You’re admitting to it so easily? Usually you’re more difficult than that.”

“Fuck,” Vox groans.

[just-some-random-blogger]

YOU DIDNT TELL ME YOU HAD OTHER GEORGE FICS I FEEL LIKE I WAS BAITED INTO GETTING INTO ANOTHER WEASLEY FOR NO REASON (I say as if I needed to be baited 🙄🤪)

An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it.

OH! LOVELY not you making me want to rewatch the films (I won't I'm not a fan of reconsumption idk idk idk)

He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

Willy Wonka aahhh entrance. My beautiful beautiful boy

You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well.

😃 oh. We're doing the death. 😃 Oh 👍

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

“You’re my first priority today,”

Can I be your first priority everyday

At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

Wow I cannot express how absolutely unnecessary it was to kill Fred. Wow. This is supposed to be cute but 😃 I don't agreeeee 🙅‍♀️ NO MAAM

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

MY SHAYLAAAAAAAAA

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

GASP. RIZZLER GEORGE. SEE 🫵 YOU'RE OUT HERE LAUGHING WHEN 🫵 YOU CONTRIBUTED TO THE CANON THAT IS RIZZLER!GEORGE

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

She so me. Icon

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

IM COMING GEORGIE! STAY BACK

(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง(ง •̀_•́)ง

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

... 🧍‍♀️ Miss ma'am what is the context of this I must have been hella cute ANYWAY IT IS I CAN SEE HIM LAUGHIN--- OH FUCK I REMEMBER NO IT IS HE TURNED WHATSHERFACE PURPLE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

Damn are those actual flavors in the series or did u just think of them. Slayed. Loathe to eat either tho HAHAAHA

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

?????? HELLO????. #1 ☝️ idc if ur brother died in not sharing my ice cream (JK JK WE COULD SHARE DNA AND MAKE A BABY I LOVE YOU) #2 ✌️ *inhale* WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO-

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Case in point. Rizzler!George

Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

????? QUEEEE MAMACITA???? MOANED I mean sure but like??? IN FRONT OF GEORGE IS CRAZY (I understand you)

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵🫵RIZZLER!GEORGE WHAT ARE YOU ON ABOUT COME HERE GIMME KITH

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

I'll give you a baby

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

I would NAWT be silently sobbing. I would be on the floor bawling

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

THEE George Weasely 😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫😫��️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹❤️‍🩹 lil bro will freak if they ever have a genetic collaboration (if he lives that long)

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

🫵you🫵 meet me outside. Send your location. I just want to talk. Shhh shhhh don't fight it (fiGHT ME)

Id give you a 10/10 but you killed Fred so 0/10 I'm sorry I don't make the rules. Idc if this got me geeking. YOU KNOW WHAT ACTUALLY FINE YOU CAN HAVE 10/10 YOU MADE ME FEEL NOTHING. I FEEL NOTHING

A Christmas Gift | G.W.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

feat. George Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: You go to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes to pick out a Christmas gift for your ailing little brother, who adored the shop (and the twins) before he became too ill to go. You find a gift and so much more than you ever dreamed of.

CW: this is really emotional, i’m sorry, but i pinky promise that it has a happyish ending. fred is dead, grief, hurt/comfort, hospital visits, sick sibling/children, some swearing, but also some fun and lightheartedness, plenty of christmasy fluff, first kisses

AN: last Christmas fic of the season!

The early morning snow buffeted at your back as you stepped into Weasely Wizard Wheezes. The store had just opened, you saw someone turn the sign as you finished your breakfast at the Three Broomsticks, but you wanted to beat the holiday rush so you could really take your time.

The smell of cinnamon and woodsmoke, plastic toys and what could only be described as joy, welcomed you inside. An enormous Christmas tree hung upside down from the ceiling, decorated in orange, purple, and gold, with handmade ornaments over every branch and popcorn strings strewn around it. Every shelf was stocked and festively decorated, and soft Christmas music played from the speakers.

You stopped in the doorway, tears welling in your eyes. Your brother would love this. You had hoped that he’d be having a good day today, that maybe, by some miracle, he’d be well enough to come with you. But he’d spiked a fever late last night, and was going in for some imaging today to ensure he hadn’t caught pneumonia…again.

“Morning,” a voice called to you, and you looked up, hastily wiping tears on your sleeve. George Weasley, a man you’d never met but would recognize anywhere, was halfway down the spiral staircase, a cup of coffee in hand. He was dressed in the iconic pinstripe suit, his copper hair a little longer than the last time you’d seen him two years prior, not that he’d remember.

The only reason you remembered was because of your brothers obsession with the Weasley twins. He’d asked to have his hair cut and dyed orange that same afternoon.

More tears welled up, and you cursed yourself, turning away to hide your face. “I’m sorry,” you sniffled, trying to take a deep breath. “I promise I’m not insane.”

You heard him move the rest of the way down the stairs, then approach you, his tall frame taking him across the store in a few strides. He had a bright purple handkerchief in his hand, the triple W embroidered on the corner.

“That’s okay, we like a little insanity around here. What’s your name?” he asked, his voice soft.

“Y/n.” You accepted the handkerchief with a watery smile and dabbed your eyes.

“George. Are you alright, y/n?” he asked.

You sighed, twisting the fabric in your hands. “The holiday’s are just hard.”

He nodded, his jaw flexing, eyes averting from your face to the floor. “Yeah,” he said, his voice rougher than it had been a moment before. You noticed then the dark circles under his eyes, the air of heaviness around his shoulders. “Can I help you find something?” he asked, pivoting quickly.

“Yes, actually. I’m, uh, looking for a gift for my little brother. But he—it has to be something he can play with in bed. Nothing too loud or messy.” Your heart ached as you said it, knowing he would actually love something loud, messy, destructive, as little boys do, but such things weren’t allowed at St. Mungo’s.

George raised an eyebrow. “Strict parents?”

You shook your head, swallowing around the lump in your throat. “He’s in hospital,” you murmured, hating saying the words aloud.

George’s face fell. “Oh—Merlin, I’m really sorry.”

A flicker of understanding passed between you, your broken hearts beating at the same rhythm for a moment. You knew about the death of his twin, Fred, everyone did, and now he knew your pain as well. That knowledge weaved an invisible string of connection between you, forged in empathy.

“We can absolutely find something for him,” George said, his voice painfully sincere. He offered you his arm and you accepted, needing a bit of steadiness. “What kind of things does he like?”

You started to walk through the store, looking around the towering shelves, at a bit of a loss. “Well, he loves Whizz-bangs, and your Pyrotechtrix.”

George smiled, chuckling to himself. “Fun, but not exactly suitable for a hospital.”

“Exactly. But honestly, anything you recommended, he’d absolutely adore, so long as I told him you recommended it.”

“Oh yeah?” George raised an eyebrow, glancing down at you.

Saints, he’s handsome.

“Yeah, he’s a big fan. He used to beg us to stop in every time we came to Diagon Alley so he could watch your demonstrations.”

George’s smile widened, a flush creeping up his neck. “Well, ah, that’s really—” he scratched the back of his head, clearly flustered by the revelation. “That’s very kind,” he managed with a breathy chuckle.

The door jingled as another customer came in and you tensed, George’s eye flicking towards the new customer, then back down to you.

You moved to slip your arm from his. “I can look around, you go ahead—”

“Oi, Ron!” George shouted, a hand cupped around his mouth, his arm tightening around yours so you stayed put.

“What? I’m sorting inventory!” Ron Weasley shouted back, appearing from the back of the store with arms full of boxes. His eyes quickly scanned over you, your joined arms, then back to George, who was nodding his head towards the door. “Welcome to Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes!” Ron turned greeted the customer, dropping the boxes where he stood.

You chuckled, leaning a bit closer to George, grateful that he didn’t abandon you.

“You’re my first priority today,” he murmured to you, close enough that you could smell his amber cologne, and you felt your anxiety unspool for the first time in weeks. For this one thing, this small, Christmas gift hunt, you weren’t alone.

You spent the rest of the morning with George, wandering through aisle after aisle as he talked you through every product you showed an interest in. At first, he seemed reluctant to talk about products with stories tied to Fred, like prodding a sore wound, but eventually he was telling story after story, grinning and laughing at the memories of their countless antics.

He encouraged you to share about your brother as well, and by the end, you were both in stitches from laughing, cheeks sore and eyes watery with tears. It warmed your heart to see him light up at the his brother’s memory, to see the love between them still very much burning, and soothed a bit of your fear.

No matter what happened, the love and the memories would remain.

You finally settled on an Aviatomobile and a few muggle magic tricks, nothing explosive, sticky, or illness-causing. George carried the items to the counter, setting them gently on surface, but hesitated when he reached for the register.

He turned, grabbing a gift box from beneath the counter. Carefully, he wrapped each item in branded tissue paper and nestled them into the box, then rearranged them once, then twice, before finally placing the lid and tying an orange bow around it. Then, he grabbed one of the paper ornaments from the counter, where kids could write little messages or drawings to hang on the gravity-defying Christmas tree, and scribbled something on it before securing it to the bow.

“There we go,” he said, pushing it towards you with a sheepish smile.

You reached for you wallet. “How much do I—”

He shook his head, waving you off. “It’s on me. Least I can do for an avid supporter.”

Tears burned behind your eyes again, caught off guard by his generosity. “George, I can’t—”

“Please, just—let me do this for your brother.” George’s eyes held yours, soft around the corners. “It’s what Fred would do.”

You nodded, unable to speak through the lump in your throat.

“Would you want to, uh, maybe get a drink later? Or coffee?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck, freckled cheeks flushing pink.

You smiled, your heart flipping in your chest. “I’d love to. We could get ice cream at Fortescue's?” You offered.

He smiled back. “Perfect. 7 o’clock?”

“Perfect,” you repeated, fighting a nervous giggle. “I’ll see you later, then.” You hefted the box in your arms and waved goodbye, hurrying out before you said anything embarrassing, or melted into a puddle of goo on the floor.

Halfway down the street, you finally glanced at the paper ornament George attached to the gift.

Sorry, mate. No explosive’s. Sister’s orders. But I’ve got a stash in the back waiting for you when you’re ready. Merry Christmas. - GW

You were fizzing with excitement as you approached the ice cream shop, a soft flurry of snowflakes dancing int the twinkle lights strew across Diagon Alley. Vendors were at every corner, selling steaming beverages, candied nuts, and fried dough. Shoppers wandered from glowing door to glowing door, bundled in thick coats and arms laden with bags. A choir sang Christmas carols on the steps of Gringotts, toads wearing Santa hats cradled in their arms, and you paused to listen while they sang “Carol of the Bells”, trying to collect your scattered mind.

You hadn’t stopped thinking about George for a moment, so wound up that you started getting ready three hours early for a simple ice cream date. You couldn’t remember the last time you felt so giddy, so hopeful.

“I like this song,” a familiar voice murmured in your ear and you looked up, finding George standing beside you watching the carolers, the lights reflecting in his brown eyes. He was dressed in a brown wool coat with a Gryffindor scarf around his neck, a white, cable knit sweater and jeans underneath, patches on the knees.

“Me too,” you replied, biting your lips to stop the grin threatening to rise. “How was your day?”

“Chaos. I left Ron to deal with the stragglers. We were supposed to close around six…” he trailed off, his eyes catching on a group of wizards. You followed his eye, and were appalled to find them muttering and pointing at him. And when you looked around, you noticed several groups were doing the same.

Instinctively, you moved closer to him, as if you could shield him somehow.

His fingers twined with yours, warm and calloused. “It’s alright,” he said, turning you to face him. “M’used to it.”

“It’s not alright,” you said, raising your voice and directing a pointed glare at the noisy folks. “It’s rude!”

He chuckled, tugging you away from the carolers. “Easy, love. It doesn’t bother me much anymore. Don’t give them any of your attention.”

You sighed, falling into step beside him, hands still clasped together. “I’m sorry they treat you like that,” you said, glaring daggers at anyone that even glanced in his direction while you walked towards Fortescue's.

“It was worse when we first reopened the shop.” His thumb swiped back and forth across yours, soothing the irritation itching under your skin. “They would come in just to get a look at me. Like my grief was some kind of spectator sport.”

“I can’t imagine having that kind of loss broadcast to the entire world,” you said, glancing at a newspaper stand plastered in the Daily Prophet.

“It’s inhumane,” he replied, stopping in front of the ice cream shop. “But, I’m grateful for it too.”

You raised an eyebrow, facing him in the warm glow of the window.

“Everyone knows how amazing he was,” he murmured, his voice thickening with emotion. He looked down at your joined hands, playing with your fingers. “He’s a hero.”

You squeezed his hand, prompting him to look up at you. “So are you, George," you said, inflecting as much sincerity as you could into your voice. "Y’know, I was there that day, when you and Fred left Hogwarts?”

His eyes widened. “You were?”

You nodded. “I was two years under you, we wouldn’t have crossed paths,” you said, trying to assuage the needless guilt that crossed his face. “But I’ll never forget that moment, watching you guys reclaim the magic that makes Hogwarts, well, Hogwarts. You inspired all of us left behind.”

He gave you a sad smile, his eyes shiny with unshed tears, and brought your knuckles to his lips, brushing a kiss across them. “Thank you for telling me that,” he whispered. “You didn’t get burned, did you?” He asked, worry suddenly creasing his brow.

You giggled. “No, no. No one was hurt besides Umbridge's ego.”

He exhaled, flashing a relieved smile. “Okay, good. Because that would have been a terrible first impression.” He opened the door to the ice cream shop, gesturing for you to step inside.

“My first impression was when you turned Ms. Norris purple during the Halloween feast,” you said, stepping past him and into line, the smell of waffle cones and caramel wafting over you.

George barked a laugh, his head falling back with the force of it, and you smiled. “Better, I suppose.”

“It’s not like I made a great first impression on you, weeping like a sap as soon as I stepped into your store,” you joked, too busy gazing up at his smiling face to notice the line move forward without you.

He shook his head, still chuckling. “No, it was a perfect first impression.”

You ordered your bowls of ice cream, Peppermint Marshmallow Mayhem for George and Gingerbread Dreams for you, and sat at a corner booth by the window, talking about nothing in particular for awhile while you ate.

“So, how’s your brother doing today? You mentioned he had some imaging this afternoon?” George asked, genuine concern creasing his brow.

“He’s doing well, actually. No pneumonia, by Godric’s grace, and his fever broke this afternoon. Still not sure what caused it, but hopefully nothing of concern,” you answered, you heart lifting at his relieved smile.

“Good, I’m really glad to hear that. Now, let me try your ice cream.” He waggled his spoon and you laughed, sliding it towards him. He took the tiniest spoonful, flipping it over to lick it off, and your cheeks warmed at the way his tongue caressed the curve of the spoon.

You knew you were caught when he smirked around the utensil, but he let it slide.

“Here, try mine.” He dug a spoonful out of his bowl, holding it out for you to take a bite with a borderline sinful look in his eye.

“George Weasley,” you teased, shaking your head. “You are such a flirt.”

“Can you blame me? I’m sitting across from my dream woman,” he replied, grinning.

Now your cheeks were really warming, and you leaned forward to take a small bite off the edge of his spoon. Sugary peppermint and creamy marshmallow coated your tongue, and you moaned.

“Good?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Delicious,” you giggled, watching as he ate the rest of the spoonful, and wondered how it would taste on his tongue.

After ice cream, you continued wandering around Diagon Alley, peeking in all the shop windows and sipping warm butter beer, until your noses were pink from the chill, your hair full of glittering snow.

You stopped outside of his shop, the sign flipped to ‘closed’ and only a few lights on inside along with the exterior holiday decor, presumably left on for George.

“I have a confession to make,” he said, stepping a little closer to you.

Your heart pounded in your chest, a thrill of excitement pulsing through you. “What?” You asked, picking invisible lint of his lapel just to have something to do with your hands.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you since I saw you watching the carolers,” he murmured, sliding his glove off and reaching out to cradle your face, his touch gentle, giving you every opportunity to pull away.

You leaned your head into his large palm, gazing up at him, freckled, flushed, and starry-eyed. You’d never seen someone look at you with adoration before, and it made your soul sing.

Instead of saying anything, you rose onto your toes and pressed your lips to his, a quick, airy peck. But when you went to move back, his hand held you in place, lips just barely touching.

“Again,” he breathed, his other hand coming around to rest on your lower back. “Please?”

You gave the tiniest nod, feeling like your heart might burst out of your chest, and his lips connected with yours again in a slow, languid kiss, the taste of ice cream and butter beer and him making your head go a little fuzzy, your right foot popping up behind you as you leaned into his embrace.

His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth, but he didn’t push further, just a small tease before winding the kiss down until it ended the way it started, with a few barely-there pecks in reluctant departure.

You sighed against him, lowering back onto flat feet, and he smiled, drawing you into his chest for hug. You slipped you arms under his coat, feeling the softness of his sweater and the warmth of his body envelop you.

“Thank you for this,” you murmured. “I really, really needed it.”

He pressed a kiss to the top of your head, his arms tight around your body. “So did I. Can we do it again tomorrow? Breakfast? Sunrise picnic?”

You chuckled, tilting your chin up to rest on his sternum. “Breakfast sounds great.”

George beamed, dropping a warm kiss to the frozen tip of your nose. “I’ll pick you up at nine?”

“It’s a date.” You stole one last kiss before slipping away, practically skipping.

You and George saw each other every day for the next week, whether it was to wander around Diagon Alley, looking at the lights and festivities, or grabbing a quick cup of tea between busy shifts. Neither of you could stand being apart for more than a few hours at a time.

Tonight, George invited you to his flat for dinner and muggle Christmas films, and you were dressed in the ugliest Christmas sweater you could find. With a timid hand, you knocked on his door.

It opened under you fist, revealing George on the other side, wearing a maroon sweater with a giant ‘G’ on the front of it and a sauce splattered apron.

“Hey, love.” He tugged you inside, pressing an eager kiss to your lips before ushering you down the hall, his deft fingers unraveling your scarf from your neck and peeling the coat from your shoulders. You laughed at his haste, spinning and hopping as he removed your boots. He stopped only when he finally saw your sweater. “Oh, darling. You look ravishing.” His hands fell to your waist and he pulled you into his chest, a mischievous grin on his face. “Very fashion forward.”

“Thank you, baby,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck. You hadn’t called him that before, but it just rolled right off your tongue, natural as breathing.

He loosed a pleased hum, leaning forward to capture your lips in another, slower kiss. “Like hearin’ you call me baby,” he mumbled against your mouth.

The oven beeped loudly, startling you both.

“Hungry?” He asked with a shy smile.

“Starved.”

He showed you to the dining room, a round table with a vase of flowers at the center, candles strewn on every surface. He pulled a chair out for you and you sat, accepting a kiss on the cheek before he dashed back into the kitchen.

You looked around, having been too caught up in his frantic greeting to take in the space. The rest of the flat was sparsely decorated, purely functional, besides a sagging bookshelf in the living room, and a few photos along the hallway. Not a Christmas decoration was in sight.

George returned with two glasses of wine, the bottle tucked under his arm. “Here we go, a little Pinot Noir for my gorgeous girl.” He set the glasses down then finally sat down in his chair.

“Thank you, baby,” you teased, and he smirked, withdrawing his wand from his apron and waving it towards the kitchen. A moment later, a giant bowl full of pasta, a basket of bread, a salad bowl, and two plates came hovering out of the kitchen, arranging themselves neatly on the table.

“Bon appetite.” He raised his wine glass, a shy little smile on his face, and you raised yours to cheers, so charmed you could cry.

Two hours later, you were curled up on George’s couch, half enjoying Home Alone, half enjoying the feel of each other’s skin under your sweaters, the rich taste of wine on each other’s tongues.

“How come you haven't decorated for Christmas?” You mumbled between languid pecks, his soft lips moving to trail over your jaw.

“Didn't much feel like celebrating this year,” he replied, kissing down your neck, his tongue tracing your pulse.

“And yet here we are, watching corny holiday films,” you chuckled and felt him smile against your neck.

“Things changed.” He lifted his head, capturing your lips in a heavy, open-mouthed kiss that made your blood warm, your heart beat a little quicker in your chest.

Suddenly, something slammed against the window, a frantic scrabbling against glass that had George springing up like something electrocuted him.

“Errol?” George moved toward the window. “No, what the fuck—”

“Oh my god, what are you doing here?!” You cried, jumping up and throwing open the window. Your family owl flew in, landing on the back of the couch. Fear pumped through you and you snatched the letter from his beak, rougher than the poor bird deserved in your panic.

“What is it?” George rested his hands on your hips as you tore it open.

The words on the card made your heart stop.

Mungo’s now, Mum

“George,” you whimpered, sagging against him as terror rocked through you.

He took the letter from your hand and skimmed it. “Go get your coat on, I’ll take you.”

“I—” You were frozen, darkness pulsing at the edges of your vision.

His hands came up to hold your face, shaking you gently. “Honey, we have to go. I’m going to be right here with you, okay? We’re going together. But we have to move now.”

You nodded, clawing through the sludge of fear and clinging to the thread of stability he offered. He helped you into your coat and shooed the owl out, not even bothering to lock up before he was ushering you into his chest.

“Hold onto me,” he ordered, and you did, and suddenly the world was sucked away, a dizzying, horrible tornado of space, and then it spit you back out on the front steps of St. Mungo’s.

“Holy shit,” you gagged, clutching onto George and he held you upright.

“Sorry, love. Never apparated before?” He asked, rubbing your back.

You shook your head.

“Y/n!”

George stiffened, his hands tightening on you, and you looked up.

“Mum!” You cried, rushing to her.

“Oh, hun. I’m sorry to frighten you, he’s okay. Just a scare. I’m so sorry, darling,” she cried, clinging to you.

“Sh, no, it’s alright. I should be here,” you soothed, squeezing your eyes shut to stop the tears from falling. “What happened?”

“He couldn’t breathe, his lungs—pneumonia again,” your mom hiccuped, wiping at her cheeks. “Who’s that?” She asked, looking over your shoulder.

George was were you had left him, hands stuffed in his pockets, his eyes bouncing from you and your mom to the strangers mingling on the sidewalk. You could tell his hackles were raised, some protective instinct roused when he’d been startled by the owl.

You waved him over. “Mum, this is George Weasley. George, this is my mum.”

“Pleasure to meet you,” George said, offering her a hand and a shy smile.

She clutched his hand hard and you both winced. “I-you-Weasley—The George Weasley?” She gasped.

“Just George is fine,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh my, I just can't believe—”

“Mum, can we go see him now?” You interrupted, anxious to see that he was well yourself. “I promise you'll have a proper introduction later.”

“Yes, of course. This way.” She released George and grabbed your hand, pulling you towards the hospital.

George hesitated, until you reached your hand out to him. He immediately threaded your fingers together, falling into step with your frantic mother.

A few moments later, you rushed into your brother's room, finding him upright and smiling, some new tubes in his little nose, but all together looking well.

“Mum, I said to leave her alone!” He argued, crossing his arms over his reindeer pj's.

“Hush you,” you scolded lightly, wrapping him up in a hug and kissing his forehead, noting his lingering fever. “How are you feeling, darling?” You asked, pulling back to hold his face.

“M'okay. They let me have some ice lollies earlier!” He chirped, sticking out his neon blue tongue.

You grinned. “I see, that's excellent.”

He opened his mouth to say something else, but then you saw his eyes widen, mouth falling open in shock. You turned to see what he was looking at and realized it was George, who was loitering in the doorway.

“Is that—” your brother started, and George looked up. “Wizard—Wizard Wheezes!”

George’s solemn expression shattered into a wide smile as he stepped into the room, his energy shifting instantly. “Hello, mate! I’m George. Heard your not feeling so good?” George reached out to shake his little hand, and he took it, his fingers dwarfed by George's palm.

“No, no. I'm fine!” Your brother replied, shock melting into excitement. “What are you doing here?”

George glanced down at you. “Your sister has been telling me all about you, and how strong you've been lately,” he said, crouching down beside the bed. “She loves you a lot, y’know?”

You stepped out of the way, tears starting to burn behind your eyes. Your mother slipped her hand into yours, watching the interaction with a hand pressed to her mouth.

“I know, but she worries too much,” your brother answered, and George burst out laughing.

“That's what happens when you love someone,” George replied, smiling. “You want to protect them from anything that might hurt them, even if you know you can't.”

“I’m big like you, I don't need protecting!” He argued.

George nodded, pressing a hand to his chest apologetically. “I can tell. But that doesn't mean they don't want to try anyways. And big guys like us have to protect them in return, yeah?”

Your brother nodded, puffing up his chest. “I'll never let anything happen to my sister. I promise!”

You blew him a kiss, and George gave him a high five.

“That's my buddy. Now, let's see if I've got anything special for heroes like you.” George fished around in his pocket, making dramatic faces while he rummaged in what you thought was an empty pocket.

But then he withdrew what appeared to be a toy airplane that would in no way, shape, or form fit in that pocket without magic. Your brothers face lit up when George threw it in the air and it started to fly, ducking and whizzing around the room.

“Hm, that wasn't what I was looking for,” George said with a dramatic frown, and you giggled. He glanced over his shoulder at you, breaking his frown to smirk at your reaction, and started fishing around in his pockets again.

He pulled out a bouncing ball, then a rubber chicken, a set of chattering teeth, a stuffed teddy bear. Item after item came out of his pockets until your brothers bed was covered in toys and gag items, and a dozen nurses were watching in amazement from the hallway. You and your mom were fighting through silent tears, your heart so big you felt it might explode out of your chest.

Most importantly, your brother was ecstatic, playing with this and that and chattering away at George about the different products and teaching him how to do magic tricks George himself had invented.

But half an hour later, your brother’s nurse came in to administer some of his medication and get him ready for bed. He tried to protest, but his new best friend, George, managed to talk him into not only compliance, but eager acceptance of his medicine.

You stole George away into the now quiet hall, Christmas lights illuminating the dark corridor, and threw your arms around his shoulders, burying your face into his neck, needing to feel him close, to ground you through the onslaught of emotions.

He wrapped his arms around you, his head turning to kiss your temple. “Need some air?” He murmured, and you shook your head no.

“Just need you,” you whispered, holding him tighter.

He let you cry into his shoulder, rubbing soothing circles onto your back and murmuring reassurances into your hair. When you'd exhausted yourself, you pulled back and he reached up to hold your face, wiping your tears with his thumbs.

“Thank you for doing that,” you sniffled, sliding your hands down his chest, his sweater soft beneath your palms.

“It was my pleasure, love,” he replied, looking you in the eye. “You—him—this, I needed this. Needed you,” he breathed, voice tightening. “I forgot why we did it all, what all the sacrifices were for, and you reminded me. He reminded me.”

You rose on your toes to press a kiss to his lips, not knowing how else to express how you were feeling that wasn't, well, insanely soon.

He kissed you back, passionate enough to steal your breath, but released you when the door to your brother's room opened.

“Darling—oh, I'm sorry. Darling, would you like to come get a cup of coffee with me?” Your mother asked, clearly fighting a grin at discovering you.

“Sure, mum,” you exhaled, reluctantly stepping away from George. “You okay for a minute?”

“Absolutely, I'll keep an eye on him.” He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before releasing you to your mother, a soft smile on his face.

When you returned twenty minutes later, you found George stretched out in the arm chair pulled up right next to your brother’s bed, Rudolph on the television.

“—Fred managed to get the deer into the kitchen with some carrots and loaf of banana bread, and kept him distracted while I tied bells and ornaments—mom’s favorite’s, of course—to it’s antlers.”

Your brother was giggling, curled up with the stuffed bear George conjured earlier, his eyes heavy as he fought to stay awake to hear the story.

“But then we ran out of banana bread and Fred tried to give it some cookies, but by then the deer had discovered the Christmas tree in the corner, with the popcorn strings and cranberries and salt dough ornaments, y’know? So the deer started eating the bloody Christmas tree and we cannot get it out of the house now. It’s found the best sodding snack on earth. So by the time my mom get’s home, half the tree is gone, there’s shi—dirt all over the house, dishes are broken, holes in the walls—”

“What did she do?” Your mom asked, laughing. “I would have sent you out to live with the deer and it’s family.”

George grinned. “We ate nothing but carrots and banana bread for a week. Even for Christmas dinner. It was torture,” he chuckled, turning back to your brother, only to find him sound asleep. “That boring, huh?” He joked, rising from the chair so your mom could take it. But instead, she pulled him in for a hug, surprising him.

“Thank you for doing this, and I’m so sorry about your brother. But I know he’d be so proud of you today,” she murmured, and you saw George’s eyes well, his jaw flexing as he tried to fight it. Your mom pulled back, pressing a kiss to his cheek, then smoothing away her lipstick with her thumb. “You’re a wonderful, wonderful man, George Weasley. And I’m so glad you’re here.”

He nodded, a tear streaking down his face. “Thank you, ma’am. That’s very k-kind.”

Your mother passed him to you, his hand gripping your tightly as he fought to keep his composure. “Goodnight, mum. I’ll see you in the morning?”

Your mother nodded, waving you away while she kissed your brothers cheek.

You led George out of the room and down the hall, finding an empty room to slip into. As soon as the door closed behind you, he sank to his knees, great, heaving sobs wracking his body. You lowered yourself to the ground with him, pulling his head into your shoulder and rocking him back and forth, his tears soaking through your sweater and shaking your whole body.

“I miss him,” George gasped like he was in pain, his grip almost bruising around your body.

“I know, baby. I know you do,” you said into his hair, holding his head against your chest. Your own tears began to spill then, for him, for you, for your family, and his, and you clung to one another as the overwhelming grief took it’s pound of flesh.

Slowly, he began to settle, breathing labored, but his tears subsiding. He lifted his head, looking at you through tear-brightened eyes, his lashes dark and spiked with moisture. You leaned forward, kissing away the droplets on his cheeks and jaw, until you felt him start to smile.

“I-it’s been so long since I—” he cleared his throat, reaching up to cup your face, wiping away your tears with his thumb. “I was numb for awhile, so long I sort of forgot what anything else felt like. I meant what I said earlier, you reminded me of what I’d lost, but in the best way.” Tears welled up again, but he smiled through them. “He would have been so fucking jealous that I got you. But Merlin, he would have loved you so much.”

You huffed a laugh, lower lip trembling as your heart soared. “George,” was all you could manage, and he leaned forward to kiss you, rising onto his knees and pulling into into his chest.

Then, that wild spinning sensation enveloped you again, and in a blink you were back on his couch, exactly as you were before, the credits to the movie rolling on the screen, your glasses of wine exactly where you left them.

“Stay with me tonight,” he asked, trailing kisses down your neck as you reoriented yourself. “Tomorrow’s Christmas Eve, we could spend it together.” He lifted his head to look you in the eyes, and you nodded eagerly.

“Yeah,” you said, laughing as he rained kisses over your face. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Thank you so much for reading!

I hope you have the most wonderful holiday season and start of the new year <3

[akookminsupporter]

Hello, I'm not sure if you'll see this or not but I thought I would ask so I know everyone is excited about BTS year this year and is eager to anticipate their return, and I kind of wanted to talk about the infantilization of BTS prior to their MS and when they come out, so I do know at their core, BTS will still be the same loveable people, but my thoughts are running on who defines what infantilism is when it comes to the boys, for example: I was being accused of infantilizing Jimin and Jungkook because I found some of the things they do cute and adorable, I mean, they have cute moments right? (AYS for example) I still acknowledge they are grown adults and respect them as the adults they are, but now I'm questioning if these things that I'm finding cute really are babying them and I don't want to treat them like that/that way, so i wanted to know if you wouldn't mind sharing your thoughts on this?

Hi anon, how are you? Happy New Year!

Oh, this is an interesting question.

I think what’s happening in the case you’re describing is that the people saying that to you don’t really understand what “infantilisation” means.

Infantilisation happens when we treat or perceive someone as if they lack the maturity or ability to be a responsible adult, regardless of their actual actions. For example, if someone dismisses their ability to act, their opinions, or their choices by labelling them as "childish" or incapable, that’s infantilisation.

A fandom example is when people think they have the right to decide for X members whether they should stay with the agency, collaborate with certain artists, or interact with certain members. It happens when someone undermines a member’s decision-making ability, treating them like a child who doesn’t know what’s best for them. It’s not about finding them cute or endearing – it’s about treating them as though they can’t differentiate between right and wrong or make their own choices about what to say or do. That’s the kind of infantilisation many of us criticise in fandoms and, honestly, on the internet in general when it comes to fans of public figures.

In your case, what you’re describing sounds more like appreciation for their natural charm and personality rather than denial of their maturity. In Korean culture, there’s something called aegyo, which is basically acting cute – almost like a small child being adorable. It’s a big part of Korean entertainment, not just in K-pop, and BTS is known for doing it too. Sometimes it’s their personality shining through, and other times it’s part of their persona. You can usually tell the difference depending on the context.

So finding someone’s actions endearing without dismissing their adulthood is perfectly fine. For example, enjoying how Jimin and Jungkook interacted during AYS (or their playful dynamics in general) doesn’t mean you’re erasing their adulthood. They were often super cute during the show, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. That’s not infantilisation – that’s you finding their actions adorable or cute.

Before Jin and Hobi were discharged, I wondered if that side of them would change – if they’d stop being these cheekily adorable and sometimes mischievous people for their fans. But it hasn’t. From what we’ve seen, they’re the same as they were before, just with a year or two more life experience. That’s it. We don’t know if they’ve changed in private, but honestly, that’s none of our business.

Jungkook’s December Wlive was a perfect example of my point. He behaved just as he always has in his lives, especially over the past few years, and more than a few fans called him cute and silly or said they just wanted to squish him because he brings out those emotions in his fans. That doesn’t mean we think he’s a child – some people do, and that is infantilisation – but most of us simply find him endearing at times.

The misunderstanding of terms or labels also reminds me of how some people in the fandom label anyone who happens to see a member in public, take a picture, or mention it as a sasaeng. Or how some even describe certain fansites as sasaengs. A sasaeng is an obsessive fan who invades a celebrity’s personal life and privacy; in this case, is someone going to extreme lengths to follow or interact with idols. A fan spotting a member in public and taking a picture or just mentioning seeing them in X place isn’t being a sasaeng. This behaviour of misunderstanding terms or labels is not new.

I don’t know what’s going on lately, whether it’s newer fans or something else, but I’ve seen people on social media trying to police things that really don’t need policing or making others feel bad for things that are pretty standard in fandoms like this. For example – and I think this wasn’t specifically our fandom but a K-pop stan in general – someone tweeted criticising people who collect photocards. Like, why? Why should anyone feel bad or embarrassed about collecting photocards? Collecting is one of the most normal hobbies ever. Some people collect photocards, others collect toy cars, and some even collect women! (That last one should honestly be a crime, but that’s another conversation.) Why is it okay for men to collect photocards of sports players, sorry, I mean “sports cards” but not for people to collect photocards of artists? The double standards in society are wild.

Anon, I think it’s amazing that you’re so self-aware that you’re checking in with others to see if your behaviour might be problematic. That says a lot about the kind of person you are. In this case, I don’t think you have anything to worry about – but the people who told you that definitely do.

[savvthedate]

Skz!Smalltown!Au:

Chapter 1 - Screw up

Authors note - sorry if this felt rushed I just wanted to get back on track with the posting, happy late new years, happy late Christmas ❤️

“How could you be so stupid, Y/N?, Do you not understand how much we've had to do to put you in that school?!” You sat there as you barely listened to your dad scream at you without breaking his contact with the long dirt road. You sat in that car for 5 hours getting yelled at every 20 minutes. You didn't mean it, you were desperate.

“Plagiarism, huh out of all the damn things,...” your father had said scoffing as he stopped at thread light

You didn't know how to tell your parents that shit would've hit the fan if you failed that test, it was only a few answers, you didn't know that the school was that strict.

Your parents had worked hard for as long as you knew, trying to get you to be successful so you could take care of them too. You didn't want to disappoint them so you just looked at a few rough questions that's it. In fact if that one guy didn't catch you, you wouldn't be in this situation now.

After your parents found out they pushed you and all your things into the car and that's how you wonded up here

—------

Finally

The car came to a full stop.

You didn't know where you were, but you didn't like it. It wasn't what you were used to. It was a small town, kinda like the ones you'd see in a show about teens in the 80’s, the type of town where everyone knew each other and their business. The stores were close together and decorated, they were cute though, someplace called Hwang florist had painted flowers over the windows the main one being a van Gogh painting you recognized the one with sunflowers, next to the florist was a small little library, and two stores down was ‘Bang convonvience’. It was a small brown quiet store with another story on top of it. Your dad had stopped right in front of the store and told you to wait in the car. Now you are with your mother.

“Y/N, I'm so sorry, but… you have to understand, there's a good school down here for you… you'll love it here, I grew up around here” your mother said as she tried to fake a slight smile.

“We’re moving here?” You asked surprisingly, this was way to far from where you used to live

“I'm so sorry, but with money, we won't be able to move here, but you'll be staying here. Your father just wanted to drop you off at a farther city, but my old friend lives here, so you'll be staying with her”

You were in disbelief. Your parents were just going to give up on you like that? They were going to drop you off with some random woman for cheating? In the heat of the moment you protested in the only way you could, you cried.

No amount of crying stopped your father from pulling you out of the car and driving you off at the entrance of the store. You were devastated, so devastated that your parents asked a store worker to bring in your things and put them upstairs.

Your parents didn't even say goodbye and about time you were finished crying, they were gone.

“I'm so sorry about how we're meeting and all but, I'm glad you're here, im mrs. Bahng” the woman said, she looked young and calming when you looked at her.

You barely managed to choke out a introduction, but she welcomed you regardless and showed you the second floor, where you'd be staying

—------

Later that night, as you lay in bed, sleep refused to come. You didn't eat what was offered. The silence around you was unsettling and unfamiliar, broken only by the occasional sound of footsteps drifting up from the floor below. You thought of your parents and of home, you thought about yourself and that's when you cried again.

Finally, unable to lie still any longer, you sat up and glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was late, but you decided to go downstairs, hoping maybe a drink from the store might calm you down.

As you quietly walked down the stairs, you saw a figure moving around the shop, stacking items on shelves and turning off lights. He hadn’t noticed you yet, so you paused, taking in the scene. The boy looked about your age, with messy dark hair that fell slightly over his eyes as he focused on his work. He wore an old band t-shirt and looked relaxed, humming softly to himself as he went about.

Suddenly, he glanced up and noticed you standing on the bottom step. He blinked, surprised, but then a small, friendly grin crept onto his face.

“You must be the guest, sorry I didn't get to talk to you much,” he said, setting down the box he was holding. “I’m Chris”

“Yeah… i’m Y/N,” you replied weakly, throat still sore, feeling a little self-conscious as you walked closer.

Chris gave a sympathetic nod. “Rough first day, huh?”

You nodded, a bit embarrassed, unsure of how much he knew about the situation. But there was a warmth in his gaze that made you feel a bit more at ease. He seemed to sense the awkwardness and gave a lighthearted shrug, gesturing to the shelves around him.

“Well, this place is as thrilling as it looks. Welcome though. It might not be the most exciting place, but there are some good things here.”

You managed a small smile at his attempt to lighten the mood. His energy was calming, even in the quiet shop. He looked at you for a moment, as though debating something, then gave a slight nod.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, “if you ever need anything, just… you know, let me know. It’s not easy, new place and all.”

You nodded, appreciating the kindness.

“Thanks,” you murmured.

With that, Chris gave you a small bag of chips and a soda and went back to work and you turned and headed back upstairs.

@cuddleycloud1 @skz-2022 @hyuuukais

[amphitriteswife]

Can you make a Samuel Seo OnlyFans Hc's please 😭🙏 Thank youuu

Samuel seo onlyfans HC

Source: Lookism

Character: Samuel Seo

Warnings: nsfw content

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👓 Samuel would blurr his face, maybe show his jawline or make the picture that way that you can see his body but the phone covers his face. After all his work and career could get in danger if he shows his face. It doesn’t actually help because from the tattoos it’s very easy to guess who it is

👓 He’s the type to caption his videos normally. For example he would caption it ‘going out for a walk.’ Inly to find out that he’s filming his lower half when he’s walking outside, the sight of his massive print in his pants almost taking up the whole screen.

👓 Is actually open to have sex with other people and post about it. He would be very rough and dominant. It’s his ‘style.’ It would involve slapping, face grabbing, choking and overall very top like stuff. You have to be into that type of stuff if you actually want to participate in it, it’s a regular thing. If you don’t then he’s not really for you. Might add BDSM into that i suppose

👓 Samuel is the type to actually do asmr but not in an outright sexual way. His viewers would know what he means but others wouldn’t. He also focuses a lot on his hands in those scenarios or his chest. His tattoos also play a huge roll into his roleplay, many find them endearing or rather sexy. So why not use it against his own benefit? There would be scenarios of him being your boss, your trainer, your teacher. Any role where he is above you. (He has a inferiority complex for a reason-)

👓 it’s not necessary his own doing but a lot of people use his body or voice for captions or advertisements. It wouldn’t be a surprise if you come across a video of boyfriend asmr with his face of body. He doesn’t really care for it to be honest as long as it doesn’t get out of hand. If it does you’ll get your ass beat.

👓 He doesn’t actually use many toys. He isn’t fond of them and prefers to do things ‘the natural way’ what does this mean? It means that he’s either jerking off or actually having sex with someone. He might use cock rings for example or gags. But not self pleasuring toys, it’ll bruise his ego quite a lot although he would NEVER admit it. Why use toys when you can have sex with him? He’ll never understand it and frankly will never see reason with it.

👓 Samuel would let you beg for him, not only will it feed into his own apparently fragile ego but it’s also a fetish thing. He’ll deny and tease you a lot simply to hear those words come out your mouth. He’ll have that satisfied grin on his face when you say it too. He could be generous at times and sometimes give in easier than other times but that purely depends on his own mood or when he feels like it.

👓 to take a look in his pants: 19 cm. Easily probably the biggest in the verse (he’s PTJ’s fan service). Right amount of veins and prides himself in it. Purely because he thinks it looks masculine that way. Actually doesn’t have a much obvious curve. It’s rather more straight forward. Thickness is pretty evenly divided and the tip is cut yes. He’s very clean as we saw a few times in the manhwa, sprays perfume and stuff as well as grooming and using make up. This also applies to the x-ray. He actually had laser treatment and he smells really nice during sex. He also doesn’t sweat easily.

👓 His watch will probably stay on during sex. He also has big hands which will play a part during it. He’s actually very good with his hands. Both when it comes to fingering or just touching your body. No he doesn’t do fisting, he’s crazy but not that crazy okay.

👓 When it comes to role play during sex it’s usually the topics i had already stated before in the asmr section of this post. But he would also take it to rather extreme scenarios. Such as cheating for example. It’s not real but it definitely feeds his ego in some twisted way to know someone choses him over someone else. And frankly if he were to know you actually had a partner and you cheated on them with him he wouldn’t care. I think he doesn’t have his morals straight and doesn’t see it as his problem.

That’s all for now yall😔⭐️

[anidala-for-ever]

#the complete inability to engage with a character the moment the character is a bit too conplex beyond 'absolutely good' or 'very bad'...

#understand why people wouldn't like anakin i mean look at all what he did!

#but then you realize he's being hated for the wrong reasons ans being treated as if he was The Antichrist from day 1

#as if he was completely fully sane by the moment things took a badly turn in ROTS

#the window between 'he made his choices' and 'the circunstances were pushimg him to the edge' are very narrow here

#rots is the dramatically and horrible combination of years and years of systematic abuse and grooming and maladaptative trauma exploding

#sorry that explosion isn't pretty or tasteful or less terrible but it wasn't supposed to be it is supposed to be ugly and upsetting!

#from every angle! it hurts from his POV it hurts from Padme's it hurts from Obi's it hurts from every angle you can get but Palpatine's

#no one is asking you to forgive him or excuse his crimes no one is doing that! But the prequels sre meant to tell the story of why

#Why he fell? Well thats your answer and is not pretty but by god it does make sense doesn't it? but no you all just wanted a slasher villai

#humanizing someone that commited crimes shouldn't be that hard especially bc we're talking about a Spacial Wizard Monk guys he's fictional

#the way fans IGNORE completely Palpatine's part and Anakin's constant misery in life just to act like he's just Space Fascist Guy is just..

#idk astounding because how can you look at TPM and not think 'that poor kid'

#or watching AOTC and only getting from it that he's a brat or something

#also let me say it again He's Fictional even if storywise he didn't like yknow get stripped off basic human rights and tortured and burned

#and disabled and forced onto a medical horror (because narratively that was his punishment which is another can of worms)

#he wouldn't have to be held accountable in the way some talk about him like...he's fictional

#ppl 'ld be up applauding other villains that do the same or worst with less of a reason and but it suddenly isnt the case with anakin

These tags are amazing, so I'm reblogging them

i hesitate to use the term victim blaming in relation to anakin because at the end of the day he's a fake guy whose crimes range from domestic violence to genocide but people's obsession with holding him "accountable" (let me reiterate, fake guy) and emphasizing how much choice he had starts feeling like that! cuz yeah ultimately his actions are his own, the narrative tells you this as much as very annoying fans who love stating the obvious do, but it feels rather insane to me to act like he was making choices under normal circumstances. like, at the end of the day he was being groomed and later on horrifically abused by palpatine and it feels like a lot of people really want to pretend that it’s his fault for not catching onto it as a traumatized child. he didn’t randomly switch loyalties bc he was hungry for power or whatever, his entire sense of reality was very meticulously broken down by a man who has been preying on his vulnerabilities since he was a child! and i just think people should maybe think about that before making arguments that sound dangerously close to “well why didn’t he just leave his abuser”

[anneangel]

Aziraphale is not bad or foolish nor stupid in the last 15 minutes of S2. And he is clearly suffering when Crowley didn't agree to go with him to Heaven, that is noticeable to anyone (or so I suppose).

But, in the same way that Crowley is sad about the whole situation (and about Aziraphale's choice), the audience felt the same way (ok, I know Crowley would never hate Aziraphale, while some fans condemned him and hated him a lot after that). But, getting to my point: I believe that, for most of us, Aziraphale is not "the bad", it's just that the entire 15 minutes were played to make us feel more empathy for Crowley.

He is the one we can identify with the most in the 'lover who declares his affection and is rejected'. Meanwhile, the 15 minutes still have Aziraphale saying that heaven 'is the side of the good guys' (something that would consequently be rejected by Crowley and the audience, who would agree with him in 'Heaven and Hell are toxic').

Its much harder to understand Aziraphale's side when the whole scene is played out in Crowley's favor. Aziraphale ends up coming off as the "poor naive" who leaves his love behind in exchange for trying to make Heaven a more decent place.

But listening: I also don't think Aziraphale thinks Heaven is perfect, he has shown that he doesn't always agree with God's plans or ways (he knows not to ask questions, he warns Angel Crowley, he gave his sword to Adam out of pity after the couple was expelled from Eden, he also didn't agree to kill Job's children). Aziraphale doesn't think Heaven is perfect, just that it's better than the alternative (Hell).

You see, both "Crowley book" and "Crowley show" fear the reprisals of Hell. It's not like Hell in GO isn't bad, because it is.

A while back I saw a poll that asked if you would like to be an angel or a demon, most people chose demon, but only because they use Crowley as a parameter, they want to be like Crowley, so they chose demon, but the question wasn't if you want to be Crowley, but a demon. Crowley is an exception, not the rule. Being a demon is not about being like Crowley, Crowley is the gray aspect between the black and white that Heaven and Hell are (he and Aziraphale are the gray aspect).

So Heaven is relatively more pleasant than Hell, that is beyond doubt. I think that when Aziraphale says "it's heaven, the side of the good guys", he didn't mean that it's the side of the "perfect and good", he was just replying that, compared to the alternative (Hell), Heaven was better.

This doesn't mean that Aziraphale support the publicity of heaven: He doesn't understand all the ordinances of Heaven, but he fears that disobedience and associating with demons (Crowley) will lead to his downfall, he feared that he had fallen after the whole "arc of Job". And he has reason to believe that he could fall if he is disobedient, or if he allies himself with "the wicked".

Angels did not fall only with Lucifer, mind you, biblically speaking 1/3 of the angels allied themselves with Lucifer's rebellion and fell with him (including Crowley). But after that there were other falls, before the flood for example, about 200 angels also fell: for having fallen in love with human women, having sex with them, creating Nephlins, and teaching forbidden knowledge to humans, all of this caused evil to be perpetrated on earth and it hence the flood.

So it is possible that an angel can fall at any time, if he does not fulfill the tasks of heaven and associates with the "wrong people".

Aziraphale does not think that heaven is perfect, but falling is still not a better option: Hell is not a better option.

Furthermore, he does not understand or obey all of Heaven's ordinances: he associated himself with Crowley, as well as committing sins (gluttony?), and others things. But he also knows that "running away" from Heaven (as Gabriel did) is not a good option in the long run.

So Aziraphale made the decision he thought was wisest in relation to Metatron, to find out what was happening in the management of Heaven, and trying to change what he believe is wrong.

See, Crowley's plan to run away isn't ideal, it's also naive foolishness.

Crowley would certainly agree with Aziraphale on "hell is toxic", they are in consensus on that. But, see, in the end of S2 Aziraphale and Crowley were both purposely put in a difficult situation, Metatron knew he would separate them by confronting them with a topic they would disagree on: Heaven.

Aziraphale, by saying "Heaven is the good guys' side," claimed to believe in the status quo. As if he believes that Heaven is broken, but can be fixed. But Crowley, by saying that "Heaven and Hell are toxic," doesn't believe they can be fixed, that it are both toxic precisely because it are functioning as it should.

I don't think either Crowley or Aziraphale is wrong, they just have different opinions based on what they believe. They shouldn't have to apologize for that. Aziraphale hurt Crowley, but Crowley also hurt Aziraphale. They're both hurt.

The reaction to Aziraphale was only so antagonistic because, as I said, the audience tends to identify more with Crowley and his idea that "Heaven and Hell are toxic", so they tend to give him more credibility during these last 15 minutes. But he was also wrong in the way he conducted the conversation.

Aziraphale saying that they can both go to Heaven as angels, is like having to accept that there is only Heaven and Hell and they need to join one of them, in the classic "if you can't beat them, join them". On the other hand, Crowley does not believe that it is possible to "join them", he believes that it is only possible to play against the system and outside of it, as an "us".

Only the plot of the sequel will show which one is being wiser (and I really hope the plot doesn't do it in a way that blames and ridicules one of them).

They both ended up saying things, and acting, in ways that hurt each other in S2. But that happens at least once in a couple's life, doesn't it?

So you see, the second season only separated them to bring them back together in the "sequel" in a more epic way (or so I hope❤️).

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

It’s so sad and funny to see ‘fans’ being disappointed by Becky English’s articles. I have always expected that Kate would start as a full time Royal again until September or the next year.

I know many are saying she is using her privilege and it’s a bad look and I get it, but people need to calm down and understand that she had chemo, and not all the patients are affected with the same secondary effects or else. If she ended chemo in August as the articles told us, she just has had 4 months of rest, I’ve read that majority need at least 6 months to start feeling a little bit like their old self and some secondary effects even need 1 year.

And to be fair, people need to understand how KP’s PR works, they have always been focused on: Family first and duty last, I think is genuine but I also think that it’s the way to show the world that the RF isn’t a bunch of cold people anymore, that also helps W to sell his father and husband PR (we know he loves that as a way to show the idiots he isn’t a cheating husband and he is a present parent not like Chuck) and Kate being the ‘nation’s mother’ and nurturing figure of the RF PR. Again, I think it’s genuine and they are lovely people, but that doesn’t mean that their office doesn’t use those good things to sell that image to the nation. So having that in mind, of course we will have at least 1 year of endless articles saying that family is first, that she is focusing on what matters and slowly abandoning such PR until she can come again as full time Royal.

The article of course has some briefs from KP, but other things are guesses, and common sense (it was obvious she won’t fully return in January) but people already believe she won’t be doing a damn all the year, when i guess that she will do at least 2-3 engagements per month + her private work with early childhood + maybe key visits to Wales or Scotland (St. Davis Day and Hollyrood week) + 1-2 army engagement + accepting few new patronages + trooping, cenotaph, big maybe the state banquets, etc…. (So be prepared for only having like 50-60 engagements this year)

William himself said during Earthshot that he expected Catherine feeling better and doing some foreign visits with him, so, I think as English said, they aren’t saying if she indeed will travel or not until the date is near and see if she feels good enough. Only William ‘confirmed’ he will do some of the visits but English is just making the common guess: ‘nobody still knows but she wants to if she feel good’ (which is what W said, so nothing new)

Anyway, the point is people need to stop being mad for something that was common sense and expected for this year. And stop comparing her with Charles, because first, he is the King and second we don’t know what treatment he is taking and while he is older, maybe his treatment plan allow him to not feel too bad

Pretty sure you're on the wrong blog because no one here is upset or disappointed by the article.

Everyone here understands that cancer and treatment is different for each individual case. We're not comparing Charles and Kate's experiences. We're comparing the palaces' communications strategies and how that managed (or didn't manage) the public's expectations.

[bibyshitsuji24k]

im saying it.

smile will grow older.

[akookminsupporter]

Why do you think jikook chose to serve together?

Also, why not jimin and tae if they're soulmates? Why not jungkook and tae? Why do you think they did it?

I feel like I’ve answered this question more times than I can count over the past year but I post way too much, so finding my first answer feels impossible. That said, I’m happy to answer it again, haha.

Anon, the most honest responses I can give you are:

Because they wanted to. Because they didn’t want to. And because they didn’t want to either.

Let me start by saying that, as fans, anything we discuss about the members’ decisions is pure speculation. We’re piecing things together based on the limited information we have, and at the end of the day, that’s all it is—our interpretation of the choices they’ve shared with us.

That said, I believe Jimin and Jungkook made the decision to enlist together because they’re the closest members of the group. Their bond is unique, and that’s been obvious to anyone paying attention over the past 10 years. I imagine they considered the pros and cons of enlisting together and concluded that it was the best decision—not just practically, but emotionally. Most importantly, it seems like it’s what they both truly wanted.

Over the past year, I’ve seen fans speculate about their reasons, saying things like, “They did it because X needed the emotional support of Y” or “Y needed the physical support of X.” And while those are valid perspectives, I’ve always leaned towards a simpler explanation: they just needed each other.

over the past 10 years, I think we all have noticed that their bond is unique. It’s clear they provide mutual comfort and understanding in ways that don’t seem to happen with the other members. There’s a certain synchronicity between them—a level of shared traits, habits, and even ways of thinking that make them perfectly attuned to one another. They’re simply each other’s person. So, if they had the chance to face one of the most challenging periods of their lives together, why wouldn’t they take it?

We don’t know if Jimin wanted to enlist with Tae or if Jungkook wanted to enlist with Tae but Tae wasn’t on board. Based on the brief exchange they had about it on AYS, it doesn’t seem like that was ever the case. From the beginning, it always seemed like the plan was for Jimin and Jungkook to enlist together, and that decision alone says a lot about the kind of relationship they share.

Their decision to enlist together doesn’t confirm or deny anything about the romantic nature of their relationship—that’s not something we can speak to with certainty. What it does prove, however, is that Jimin is the Cristina to Jungkook’s Meredith, and vice versa. If you’ve been paying attention, that’s been obvious for a long time. They’re soulmates in every way that matters—whether that’s platonic or something more we don’t know for certain.

The fact that some people still deny the strength of their bond or downplay it is another story entirely. But for me, it's crystal clear after everything we’ve seen.

And since someone asked about this recently—yes, Tae said Jimin is his soulmate, and I absolutely believe they are. But that doesn’t mean Jungkook isn’t Jimin’s soulmate too, just in a different way. That much is obvious.

Sometimes, I get frustrated when I see debates about this, haha. It’s so clear that Jimin and Tae care about each other deeply, but their relationship is completely different from the one Jimin shares with Jungkook. And from the one Tae has with Jungkook. Each dynamic is unique, and each connection is valuable. Why is that concept so hard for some people to grasp?

Lastly, since they enlisted, we haven’t heard much about them. But in the little we have seen, read, and heard, it’s clear it was the best decision for them. Jungkook pretty much confirmed it during his last surprise Wlive.

It’s obvious they’re not just a source of calm and stability for each other but also a sense of normality amid everything. I mean, how many times did we hear one of them mention, before all this, that they’d spend hours talking about music, singing, or practising together? How many times did we hear them say that after a long day of work or commitments, they’d still end up together?

No one goes through the whole process they had to go through to apply for the buddy system just for a simple colleague or someone you don’t feel completely secure and comfortable being around.

[thelaurenshippen]

genuinely think it's good and healthy to follow at least one person in each of your fandoms who reblogs good gifsets but has just...absolutely dogshit takes on the show, or who ships that ship you despise. keeps things fresh. keeps things grounded. you gotta stay humble

[dynamitekansai]

THE USOS REUNITE WWE SMACKDOWN (OCTOBER 25, 2024)

[stellaclaw]

i can see your perspective, and to some extent i do agree. some of my favorite character in other fandoms are villains (something i have actually been attacked over lol).

when i say the books lack complexity, i dont mean the building blocks arent there. however, it needs to be heavily contextualized in that the writers often discard what they have- bonefall found an excellent basis the writers had set, but in crowfeathers trial, its often been noted that breezepelts edges are sanded down to make him more agreeable, and thus give an “easier” version to forgive- indeed, what we see of him in dovewings silence is very inconsistent from crowfeathers trial, and his arc is wrapped up rather abruptly and not even from his pov, when it really, truly should have been to give it a satisfying ending. furthermore, when crowfeather blames nightcloud for breezepelt hating him, we are to some extent supposed to accept that nightcloud was a problem. in the guide books shes described as jealous and bitter and coddling, and even on the official website she is assigned adjectives, and thus we are to assume her defending breezepaw from his father is bad and she had some hand in how he turned out.

the reason warriors is loved is because the pieces are there. but the writers continually neglect them, and in the end water down their own writing. breezepelt is one of the very few cases i mentioned where the set up is good enough that it can still shine while the landing was fumbled.

its why i have such trouble giving such leniency to appledusk. there is a trend in the books of such things, and so it is natural to become skeptical of the writers intentions, which im sure is something you can understand.

i can fully accept people wanting to see complexity in appledusk, and hes probably a character i would like in a “messy guy” sort of way, but there is a problem in parts of the fandom where people defend his cheating (usually by portraying mapleshade as a “buff scary woman” and depicting him as small and frail, and positioning reedshine, who he also deceived, as a therapist to him). maybe i can like him some day (i am number 1 frecklewish fan yes she did those bad things and it just adds flavor to her), but ive personally dealt with that sort of… gestures vaguely.

also dw about rambling lol i had no idea where i was going either. also didnt mean to assume, i spent a lot of time in the wcrp forums so my brain is just kind of attuned to read into things. that being said i responded calmly because i do not like to assume actual malice, doing so just makes a meaner fandom space and also prevents interesting discussions like this.

anyway if people are allowed to make excuses for bramblestar and fucking appledusk, I should also get to say that nightcloud did nothing wrong

[incesthemes]

my hot fandom take is that discouraging authentic interaction with fanworks through arbitrary "rules" and increasingly limited and prescriptive scripts of "acceptable" interactions damages fandom as a community perhaps just as much as passive, entitled consumers who demand free labor from fan creators without offering interaction in return

[2dami2furious]

I get that people dislike the fandom characterization of miles g as some aggressive thug (I despise it) but sometimes I think people over-correct by saying that they are the EXACT same person. I’m sorry but no, not only does that not back up what kemp powers said about miles g being a bit “rougher around the edges” than our miles, It’s also really boring from a narrative standpoint.

What’s the point of creating the a version of your MC that came from radically different circumstances if nothing about them changes? It’s a nature vs nurture thing. Miles g is supposed to make you and Miles ask if his role as Spider-Man was destined, or if it was just some fluke that stopped him from turning out like his uncle.