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[jeonggukieverse]

Number One Fan:

Chapter 1 - The Accident

Pairing: Writer Y/N x Yandere Jungkook 

Genre: Yandere/Horror Fic 

Warnings: None in this Chapter

Word count: 4k

Synopsis - After a serious car crash, novelist Y/N is rescued by former nurse Jeon Jungkook, who claims to be her biggest fan. Jungkook brings her to his remote cabin to recover, where his obsession takes a dark turn when he discovers Y/N is killing off his favourite character from her novels. As Y/N devises plans for escape, Jungkook grows increasingly controlling.

A/N:

Y'all, the universe did not want the god forsaken fit written! My laptop got stolen ,my brother deleted my COMPLETED tic out of spite, my depression was whooping my ass but we pulled through. After 4 long months, it's here. If there are any spelling or grammar mistakes, my bad, I didn't proof-read this (I didn't want to jinx anything).

Leave a comment or reblog if you like it, id be super grateful <3333

- Ryeon <3

“Look Y/N, I just don’t think that this is rational. Or smart, for that matter. You’re giving up on your highest performing book series and for what? ‘You’ve grown to hate the main character?’ It’s your character! Change her!” 

You rolled your eyes as Yoongi’s voice boomed through the speakers of your car. You understood why he was upset, of course. Yoongi had been the first one to go out on a limb and take a chance on 18-year-old Y/N. When you first met him, you had not a shred of credibility or writing experience to your name, just a couple of characters, a good story and a dream. Yoongi took a real gamble with you; he was one of the most sought-after literary agents in the game. You handed him your first ever manuscript at one of the book signings of a writer he was working with and begged him to read just one chapter. That took courage on your part because Yoongi was terrifying back then. His demeanour was stern and his hair was jet black and slicked back, the shade perfectly matching his suit. Both contrasted the alabaster pale shade of this skin. He was handsome and frightening but your ambitions were stronger than your fears. Luckily it paid off! Yoongi loved your manuscript and poured everything into getting it published. 

That was 10 years and 9 books ago. The ‘Moth to Flame’ series had been a massive hit. The tale of romance and passion had become a worldwide sensation and catapulted you into the public eye. For the past 10 years you relished in the reality that your dream job was the one you were blessed to be doing. 

That was until a year ago. 

Yoongi had called you to his office completely beaming with excitement. 

“Go on then Mr. Min, tell her!” Urged Gretta, Yoongi’s 70-year-old assistant. She was buzzing with the same enthusiastic energy as the man who stood before you. 

“Tell me what? You two are scaring me. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Yoongi smile this much” you chuckled while sitting yourself down in the chair in front of his big mahogany desk. 

Gretta giggled at your lightly panicked tone and Yoongi simply hummed in agreement. He was a very self-aware guy. He often reserved any outward expressions of joy for when the circumstances were great. And these circumstances were indeed great. 

“I’ve just come off the phone with Panoma Film Studios. And they have asked for a meeting with us to discuss signing over the rights of ‘Moth to Flame” 

“Sign over the rights? Why are they asking for that?” 

“They want to make it a film dear!” Gretta burst out, arms flailing above her head in celebration. 

The moment suddenly stilled for you. You contemplated for only a second before you came to a decision: 

“Fine”

Yoongi was taken a back. One: by your immediate compliance. In the 10 years he had known you, not once have you agreed to something without an argument. And Two: there was not a shred of joy in your tone. The monotonous ‘fine’ completely juxtaposed the light-hearted jabs that came from you just moments ago. He was worried. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing. I’m happy” you said looking back to the man with his eyebrows furrowed.

“Gretta, could you grab us both a cup of tea please?” 

“Yes Mr. Min” replied Gretta, her mood now slightly deflated as the atmosphere had shifted to a more solemn one. You felt sorry about that, she had seemed so happy. 

As the door closed behind her, Yoongi’s eyes narrowed back on you. 

“Alright kid, now tell me what’s up”.

“I don’t wanna do this anymore Yoongs. I’m done. I’m sick of writing this series. I have no connections with the story anymore cause I’ve been writing from the same perspective since I was 18 and I’m almost 30 now. It’s time for me to move on”. 

You watched as his face drained of its colour. 

“W-What?” 

You paused as silence engulfed the room. You could have expanded on your decision but you wanted to let it sink in and for him to fully come to terms with it. because you were absolutely not going to be swayed about it. 

“Then why would you agree to signing the writes away?”

“Cause once its officially not mine anymore I can legitimately move on. The series be their responsibility to carry on and mould and shape it into whatever they want. The burden of these characters I’ve grown to, honestly, despise will no longer be on my shoulders. And I’ll finally be free to write what I want”. 

You could see the cogs turning in his head. Yoongi was struggling to put into words anything that would influence you to change your mind and not give up on their most profitable published work. But you shut that down. 

“This book I’m writing will be the 10th and last on of the series.” 

In the year that followed, you stayed true to your word. You had spent the whole year finalising the last piece of the story. You tied off any loose ends. You finalised everything. 

It was done. 

Last week, you headed back to Yoongi’s office to hand in your finished manuscript. 

You strolled knocked on the door only to be startled by a voice behind you. 

“He’s at lunch deary” 

You spun around to be met with a warm familiar smile. 

“Hi Gretta, sorry, I probably should have called first to let someone know I was coming over.” You babbled as she ushered you into her office and offered you a plate of muffins. Standard Gretta procedure. 

Gretta was your first friend in the publishing world. Well aside from Yoongi. 

She used to be an editor for the most popular newspaper in the country. But when her husband got sick, she decided to swap the hustle and bustle of the big city to a slower pace in the countryside. She always joked that even though her husband was the one being healed by the fresh country air; she was the one that healed the most. Being away from everything made her appreciate all she had. Her and her husband began to re learn each other after so many years and they learned to fall in love all over again. 

You always loved hearing their stories. Their love for each other inspired you through your first bout of writers block. Their stories helped you write the 5th book in your series. You even dedicated it to them (and their pup Angus, of course). 

The only reason she had crossed paths with Yoongi was because she was seeking out a part time job to keep herself busy. He said she came into the interview like a whirlwind, not affected by his intimidating aura in the slightest. When you asked her about how she could go up against the fierce jaguar like man, she responded with: Jaguar? To me he was nothing but a kitten. And you’d loved her since then. 

“Don’t worry dear. He should have come back by now but he’s talking to a new potential client. She’s a 19-year-old wanting to pitch her love story. Sound familiar?” 

You hummed. 

“Let’s hope she flushed out her characters better than I did.”

“Now Y/N Y/L/N, I don’t want to hear any of that! You’re a fantastic writer, George and I have spent many afternoons reading your books! Some of the stories take us back to our early days when we were young and in love and I’m sure it does the same for other people too” 

“Thank you, Gretta. You always know the right thing to say” you smiled, popping a piece of cherry muffin in your mouth. 

“My dear, can I speak frankly?” 

You gulped. Not only to finally swallow the delectable cherry muffin but also because Gretta almost never spoke in such a serious tone.

You nodded, unsure of where this conversation was about to go. 

“Why are you really finishing your series? And don’t give me the same bullshit you gave Yoongi about not liking your characters! I know you Y/N and I know that’s not it. Or if it is, it isn’t that reason alone” 

Damn, she’s good. 

“Well, if I’m being honest Gretta, I feel like a fraud. All my life I’ve been reading and writing about love and life and I’ve never experienced either. I just…I just want to experience the love that you and George have, the love that I write about but I can’t and I’m afraid that my writing is reflecting that. Like just the other day a saw a critic say that my stories are ‘no longer grounded in reality’ and at first, I brushed it off but you know what? They’re right?” 

“That was Archie from the Gazette, wasn’t it? I tell you dear that boy doesn’t know his arse from his elbow.” 

You let out a cackle. Her quick reply stopped you from spiralling. Gretta really always did know the right thing to say. 

“But if you’re really worried about that, take some time away! You’ve been working non-stop since you were practically a baby. Well, a baby to me.” She remarked as she walked over to sit directly in front of you. She reached out towards you and held your hands in hers. 

“And if you really feel like you’re not grounded, take the time away to find the ground”. 

“But how do I know where the ground is?” 

“Well, when I’m looking for something I can’t find, I try to remember the last place I had it.” 

“The last time I felt grounded was…back home at my parents’ house. Before I moved to come here to write properly” 

“Then I think that’s a good a place as any to start dear. Take a couple of months to really decide if ending this is something you really want to do. You know I will support you regardless but I want the decision to be done to come from you being done. Rather than you being afraid” 

You leaned in and enveloped her small for with a warm embrace. 

Gretta is the mum your inner child longed for. Any interaction with her felt like it was healing pieces of your soul. 

She was right. She always was. 

So you packed your bags and headed back home. 

“Y/N I think this trip will do you good. Just take some time decompress and do whatever it is you people do out there in the sticks” 

“Okay city boy, not too much! Oak Falls is not the sticks. You think anywhere that doesn’t have at least 5 coffee shops on one street is practically the middle of know where” 

“And im absolutely right. How’s the journey so far? When do you think you’ll get home”. Yoongi said, changing the subject. He knew you would annihilate him in defence of your town. Oak Falls wasn’t great but it was home.

“I should be there in about 20 minutes which is good cause it feels like the snow is getting heavier” 

“Will your parents be home when you get there?” 

“I think so. My mum usually finishes work around this time and my dad probably stayed at home today. I couldn’t imagine him working on the farm in this weather. Even if they’re not there, I know where they hide the spare key. They’ll just get a bit of a fright, since they don’t know that I’m coming”  

“Well just- mak-s-re you le-t-someon-kn-“

Yoongi’s call began to break up before it cut out completely.

You felt uneasy but you tried to push it aside, you’ll be there soon anyway. 

Soon you’d be home and out of this snowstorm that seem to have come out of nowhere.

One moment, the winding mountain road was clear, and the next, thick flakes fell like a blanket coating the tarmac in a blinding white.  Suddenly the road before you had completely disappeared. 

The tires of your car were now struggling for grip as you clutched the steering wheel tighter your heart racing with every skid. The storm was growing worse, and the isolation of the empty road offered no comfort.

You cursed under your breath. Of all the times for your phone to lose signal, it had to be now. The narrow road twisted and turned unpredictably, the guardrails barely visible under the thick accumulating snow. Your headlights fought to pierce the fog, but even they seemed overpowered by the storm.

Then it happened.

A patch of ice sent the car sliding to the side. Your hands wrestled with the steering wheel, but the car had a mind of its own. The screech of tires on ice was drowned out by the pounding of your heart.

The car spun out of control, crashing through the flimsy guardrail and sliding down a small embankment before slamming to a halt against a snowbank.

Pain flared in your head, sharp and immediate. Disoriented, you blinked, trying to focus, but the world around you swam in a dizzying haze. Blood trickled down your temple, warm against the chill that spilled through the cracked window. The engine sputtered and died, leaving you in an eerie silence, except for the howling wind outside.

You tried to move, but your body protested. A groan escaped your lips as you reached for your phone, only to find it flung somewhere out of reach. Panic bubbled in your chest. You were stranded in the middle of nowhere, injured, and utterly alone.

Or so you thought.

The sound of crunching snow reached your ears. Footsteps. Your pulse quickened as a shadow appeared just outside the shattered driver’s side window. A man crouched down, his features obscured by a thick coat and scarf wrapped tightly around his face. Only his eyes were visible, dark and intense as they scanned your injuries.

“Miss? Are you okay?” his voice cut through the storm, soft yet commanding.

You tried to respond, but your throat was dry, and your words came out as a weak croak. The man didn’t wait for an answer. He opened the door carefully, his movements precise and deliberate, as if afraid of startling you.

“You’re hurt,” he said, his brows furrowing in concern. “Don’t move. I’ll get you out.”

Before you could protest, his arms were around you, lifting you as if you weighed nothing. The sudden movement made your vision swim, and you leaned into his chest instinctively, the scent of pine and something distinctly warm enveloping you.

“We need to get you inside,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You’re lucky I was nearby.”

Your sluggish brain registered his words but couldn’t process the implications. All you knew was that you were no longer in the freezing car, and someone was helping you. Darkness tugged at the edges of your vision as he carried you through the storm, his footsteps steady and sure despite the treacherous ground.

When you opened your eyes again, you were inside a warm, dimly lit room. The faint crackle of a fireplace filled the air, and the scent of wood smoke mingled with something sweet—maybe tea. Your head throbbed as you tried to sit up, but a firm hand pressed against your shoulder, guiding you back down.

“Easy,” the man said, his voice close now. “You’ve been through a lot. Just rest.”

Your eyes finally focused on him. He was kneeling beside the couch you were lying on, his dark hair slightly damp from the snow. His features were striking, almost too perfect, with chapped lips and eyes that seemed to pierce straight through you. He smiled gently, but there was something unreadable in his expression that made your stomach twist.

“Who...” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard. “Who are you?”

“My name is Jungkook,” he said simply, his gaze unwavering. “I found you on the side of the road. You’re lucky I was passing through. There’s no cell service out here, and the storm would’ve buried your car by morning.”

“Thank you,” you whispered, though the words felt inadequate.

“No need to thank me,” he replied, his smile widening just a fraction. “I’m just glad I got to you in time.”

He stood and moved to the fireplace, adjusting the logs with practiced ease. The warm light danced across his face, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft curve of his mouth. Despite his calm demeanour, there was an intensity about him that you couldn’t ignore.

“Where am I?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

“My cabin, just on the outskirts of Oak Falls” he said, turning back to you. “It’s not much, but it’ll keep you safe until the storm passes.”

Your gaze wandered around the room. The cabin was small but cosy, with wooden walls that seemed to glow in the firelight. A thick woven rug covered the floor in front of the stone fireplace, and a few mismatched but comfortable-looking chairs were arranged around it. Shelves lined one wall, crammed with books, jars of dried herbs, and a few trinkets that looked hand-carved. A table sat near the kitchen area, which was marked by a small counter, a sink, and an old-fashioned stove. The whole space felt lived-in, almost charming, but there was an underlying sense of isolation that made your chest tighten

Safe. The word lingered in your mind, both reassuring and unsettling.

“Your head’s bleeding,” he continued, his tone softening. “I’ll clean it up. Hold on”

Before you could respond, Jungkook disappeared into another room and returned with a first aid kit. He knelt beside you again, his hands surprisingly gentle as he cleaned the wound on your temple. The sting of the antiseptic made you wince, but he murmured soothing words, his touch steady and careful.

“There,” he said, placing a bandage over the cut. “All better.”

You mumbled a quiet “thank you,” your exhaustion weighing heavily on you now. Jungkook’s eyes softened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair from your face. The gesture was tender, almost too intimate, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

“Get some rest,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll take care of everything.”

As your eyes drifted shut, the last thing you saw was Jungkook’s enigmatic smile. Safe, you thought again, though the word no longer felt quite right.

Tag List: @whothefuckisthishoe @sexinukim @darkuni63 @00frenchfries00 @hopeworldsupremecy

[gojohatemail]

Been wanting an ita bag for a while now and thigh gripping soooooo hard rn cause I found a wolf-paw shaped one but there's only two left <:( it'd be perfect for Laios.

[mahg-stuff]

Hi. Can I request a big daddy elvis (late 70s) in which he and female reader are having an argument and he says something really mean so she heads into the bedroom and cries. He goes into the bedroom to apologize and then make out. Smut, detailed if you can and also some aftercare. Thanks

Tysm for the request! Enjoy it lovee! ♡

Kiss'n make it better

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Word count: 6.4k (quick) Summary: Bde grows stuffy as he witnesses you playing a card game with the guys, but not only that, you are in your delicate bed attire while you do it. Pairing: (1976)bd!elvis x afab!reader Warnings: 18+!, smut, p in v, elvis finally fully takes the reader, cherry cream pie (if you know what I mean...), kissing whilst bodily fluids are present on the mouth, tasting of bodily fluids, playing around with spit?oral fixation?, mention of elvis’ medications/pill use & dr. nick (im sorry), elvis’ standards for his women, toxicity, once again elvis being volatile, use of the word daddy, & of course fluff + baby talk!!

───

AN: Hello there! I was off and on while writing this since I was eager to let it out soon bc I felt I’d left the anon hanging for too long so, certain areas may seem rushed/lack context but I did my best with the details! I hope it’s not a bother, but overall I enjoyed writing this little piece. Anywho, my dear anon I hope you are pleased with this! And to the rest of you loves, enjoy! ♡ (keep the requests coming!!😚)

- pls excuse any errors, your girl got tired half way through cleaning it up 🥹💋

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Elvis was, as of now, getting his day-by-day measurements of meds from Dr. Nick within the master bathroom in his room. In the meantime, you held up in his bed, twiddling your thumbs as you waited, you both had just woken up. He would always make sure to do it in a different room, given that you had eventually told him that you didn't enjoy seeing everything they put in him. When you witnessed firsthand how much his body had to ingest, you expressed your concern, but he waved you off, saying everything was always under control.

At some point, you stopped showing concern upfront to him because it had resulted in the first argument between the two of you, however, you'd unconsciously always be pinching away at your arm's flesh as you worried about him. You were still relatively new to his lifestyle, but you were gradually adapting.

Things were taking quite a while, so you began wandering around his room. You'd only been together for a few months now, so you were still trying to settle in. Elvis asked you to move in right away, and you soon found out he didn't like being left alone. As you moved around the room, you were still in your night slip. It was a look that he found especially appealing. You tip-toed barefoot to the door, peeking outside, and then back over to the closed bathroom door in the bedroom. 

You heard them mumbling inside and decided, Why not go downstairs? 

Making your entrance to the living room and taking in more glances of the house you hadn't paid much attention to before, your eyes shot up towards the voices in the kitchen. As you peered into the kitchen, you saw two of his guys sitting there chatting with some cards in their hands. They took notice of your presence and glanced over at you, their eyes lingering on your attire. Going quite unnoticed by you. 

One clears his throat.

"Hey there, y/n, ya need anythin'?" 

You shrug, not really knowing what you need or want, but feeling a bit restless. 

"No, just bored waiting on El," you reply absentmindedly. 

One of the guys chuckles and nudges the other, whispering something to him. You catch a snippet of their conversation and wonder if they're talking about you.

"What's so funny?" you ask, tilting your head in confusion. 

The guys exchange glances before one of them speaks up, struggling to find the right words. 

"Oh, nothin', just...you know...we were just talkin' 'bout how...um...how fashionable you look today." 

You give them a skeptical look, not fully convinced by their compliment. 

"Really? They're just my pajamas, the first thing I found in the closet last night," you admit with a sheepish shrug as you look down at your delicate garments. 

They both burst into laughter, causing you to giggle along. The guys exchange knowing glances, struggling to contain their amusement at your naivety. Being new in Elvis' life and feeling a bit clueless around the guys sometimes—I mean, you'd never been surrounded by so many men before, so it was uncommon for you to catch their brash ways.

 

One of the guys begins talking, "Since you're bored, why don't ya join us? We're playin’ a card game." 

You happily agree and take a seat at the table. They explain the rules to you as one of them shuffles the deck of cards. The game soon progresses, and the guys bring out their competitive sides, teasing each other and making playful taunts. Even though they might’ve been acting a little abruptly, it was clear that they were enjoying themselves. Amidst the banter, one of the guys turns to you with a mischievous grin. 

"Hey, watch out, I wouldn't want ya to get too confused with all these cards. It might be a bit too much for a girl to handle," he says snarkily. 

You titter and shake your head, clearly letting the comment go over and past your head. 

"I can handle." 

You say it humbly.

***

Elvis, grumbling his way downstairs to look where you'd wandered off, stops at the bottom of the stairway as he hears his precious girl's laughter from the kitchen. He stalks quietly towards the doorframe of the kitchen, there he sees you sitting pretty with his men. He scans your body until he gets to your bare, wriggling sooties that are dangled just above the ground in the chair. Elvis clenches his fists, feeling his irritation rise at the sight of you playing with the guys.

As he watches, he can't help but notice the unkempt yet alluring exterior you possess. Your tousled hair and streaked makeup from the night before only seem to enhance your beauty, giving you a tempting appeal that could captivate those around you. He had set certain expectations for you, and seeing you in this compromising situation with the guys confirms that you were not fulfilling them. He storms in, his footsteps echoing through the room as he confronts the scene before him. 

"Darlin', you know bedder than to be gallivantin' 'round in your night attire with these fellas." He narrows his eyes, his southern accent thickening as he speaks.

Your head quickly turned to that familiar gruff voice, his appearance matching the roughness in his tone. There he stood, portly and only in a silk robe, a region of dark hair trailing down his navel from the open slit and his luscious sideburns framing his face. His noir hair, slightly disheveled from a restless night, completed the picture of a man who demanded attentiveness. As you caught his gaze, you could see a mix of disappointment and fret in his eyes. You instinctively straightened up, feeling a twinge of shame creeping into your conscience for some reason as you looked down at your attire and then back at him. 

"Well, I thought it'd be okay. I mean, I do live here now. Shouldn't I be comfortable, El?" You voiced cunningly, not purposefully trying to provoke him but unable to resist the urge to justify yourself. 

But there was an inimitable standard he held you to, one that required impeccability and grace. 

"Goddammit!" He started. 

"No man's woman should be 'round men in such whorey showin' garments. 'Specially not mah women!" 

You blinked in surprise, taken aback by his strong reaction. The atmosphere in the room suddenly grew tense, and you could feel the weight of his disapproval pressing down on you. 

His pride was unexpected for you. 

As you searched for words to respond, his intense gaze never wavered, making you feel insecure and exposed. 

"W-Well, the guys think otherwise!" You spoke aloud as your throat tightened. Well, at least you thought they didn't find your attire whorey—a word Elvis had introduced to you when he saw an outfit you picked out while shopping with him. 

Elvis glared over at them, and they both quickly stood up from their positions, some cards falling off the table as they did so. 

"That right?" 

"N-No Ep, 'course not." They stood there longer than they should have. 

"The hell y'all still doin' standin' here, for?! Go on an' do sumn then." Elvis spoke sternly as he pointed, his robe falling more open with his motion. 

The guys hastily scampered away, not wanting to further incur Elvis' anger. You look at Elvis, noticing his neglected appearance and glazed eyes. Nervous, you place your cards down, your eyebrows puckering in disarray. 

"What was that, Elvis?" you ask softly, but your voice is filled with slight perplexity. 

"They didn't do anything." You squeaked. 

"Didn't do anyhtin'." He scoffed under his breath. He shook his head and met your gaze again. 

"Matter uh fact, the hell were you thinkin' wonderin' off?" His words were a bit slurred. 

"Know all yur attention should be on me, 'n only me." Elvis' words hung in the air, heavy with a mix of fury and vulnerability. 

You could sense an ache behind his harsh tone, and it struck a chord within you. 

"Elvis." You delicately said his name, the concern evident in your voice.

But before you could continue, he raised his voice again, his drooping eyes glaring. 

"Kept mah eyes off ya for just uh moment, den I find you playin' bimbo wit' 'em fellas." 

Your heart sank as Elvis' words echoed in the room. 

This wasn't your Elvis. 

Your bottom lip quivered as you stood up from your seat, covering your face with one hand as you moved to leave the room. 

"The hell are ya goin'." He says this as he tries to stop you, but you pull away forcefully and hastily walk upstairs. 

Elvis hears your faint sniffle from the hallway, followed by the sound of a door slamming shut. He paced around, mumbling words to himself as he held his forehead, trying to make sense of what just happened. 

It was clear that his head wasn't in the right place. 

***

As Elvis continued to pace, he barely grasps the impact of his words and considers the hurt he may have caused. 

"Baby," he muffles to himself as he looks around. 

He rubs his eyes and begins to walk towards the staircase. 

"Baby." He muffled again, as if he were whispering a plea into the empty space. 

He reaches the top step and hesitates, unsure of whether to knock on the closed bedroom door or barge right in. 

"B-Baby, a-a-ah wannas come in," he says gently in his gruff voice. 

"W-Wanna come in." Elvis stands in front of the door, his voice quivering with desperation. 

His babyish tone reveals the depth of his regret. Your ears perk up on the other side of the door, straining to catch every word. You can sense the turmoil in his voice, the vulnerability, and the longing.

It's a side of him you were weak for, and it tugs at your heartstrings.

Slowly, you rise from the bed, your footsteps barely audible as you make your way to the door. With a shaken hand, you turn the knob and open the door, revealing Elvis standing there, his eyes filled with a mix of hope and fear. He takes in your appearance—your tear stained cheeks, red, fuzzy nose, and the slight puffiness of your eyes. His face softens with concern, and without a word, he pulls you into a tight embrace. Your face buried into his exposed, hairy, warm torso through the opening of his robe. 

Feverishly, he brings his large palms up to either side of your face and pulls your face upwards. Taking in your babyfaced features. Your damp lashes flutter as you meet his gaze. 

"A-Ah made my little 'un cry." he mumbles as he grazes the pad of his thumb under your eye. 

"Y-Ya know ah ain't meant what I said back dere," he continues, his voice filled with veracity. 

"M-My temper… mah words came out wrong. A-Ah, wudnit wha I meant—", he trails off just before he wavers off, trying to focus his eyesight all of a sudden. 

As his eyelids droop, a gentle sigh escapes his lips. You can see the drowsiness etched across his weathered face, the lines deepening in the dim light of the room. 

It always tortured you when you saw him like this. 

You noticed it was one of the many effects the pills had on him, before starting him up, they'd slow him down first. 

Even with his abrupt weariness, you recognize that sincerity in his voice and the sorryness in his slumped eyes. You reached out and took his wrist, wrapping your fingers around it, offering a silent reassurance that you understood what he was trying to get out. 

You cared deeply for him, so forgiving him always came in a hurry for you.

***

As you both stood there, the grogginess began to fade, and his eyes soon became more and more focused. He took a deep breath, his chest rising and falling with each inhale and exhale. He gave your cheek a gentle squeeze. His gaze lingered on your face as he continued to graze his thumb gently on your cheek. 

"Let me m-make it up t-ta mah sweet girl, hmm." He says it so softly with that drawl of his.

As you listen to his soft voice, filled with tenderness and warmth, it becomes evident that he was speaking to you with the same affection one would reserve for a baby. One of his traits you had gotten used to and valued thoroughly. Your cheeks fill with warmth. He holds you by the waist, turning you over, and fully enters the bedroom with you. Shutting the door, he then leads you to the bed, helping you sit down on the edge. Elvis sits down beside you, and you feel the bed sink from his weight. 

He turns your face over to him, and he places a hand on your cheek. He begins caressing your face ever so lightly, as if you were made of spun glass. 

"Kiss'n make it better." He mumbles pouty-lippedly as his thumb runs over your lips. 

You stare into his hollow eyes, nodding, as he begins to push his thumb into your small mouth. Politely opening your mouth for him, the taste of his skin lingers on your tongue as his thumb explores the contours of your mouth. You both hold each other's gaze, and you lightly suckle on it, watching his eyes light up at your action. He gently brings his thumb out, a string of saliva dribbling down your lip. Elvis smudges your saliva all around your soft pout, making your lips appear glossy, then brings his thumb up to his lips to suck off your slobber. As you both continue your intimate encounter, the air around you seems to grow heavier. His fingers then work their way down your torso, tracing your dainty body. With a famished mutter, he slides his hand beneath your slip, teasingly grazing over your soft, small chest, giving one of your nipples a tug. You can't help but whimper at his action.

And want grows between you, feeling a surge of heat run from your face down to your toes. 

"C'mere, let ol’ daddy kiss ya," he leans in, capturing your lips in a fervent, persistent kiss. 

The taste of him fills your palate as he slips his tongue inside your pretty mouth. You find yourself feeling fuzzy in the rush of the moment, willingly giving into his actions. His large hands begin gripping your small waist, pulling you closer as he deepens the kiss. His supple kisses had always been tender and gentle, but this one was different. It left you almost breathless. His touch was heavy, and you found yourself slipping in the heat of the moment. Your slip rises upwards at his action, revealing the pair of tiny matching ruffled shorts. 

He breaks the kiss for a moment, his pillowy lips glistening. His eyes lock onto yours—a look of want. Elvis' hefty hand goes down to your upper thigh, and he grazes the fabric of your shorts. 

"Take 'em off, 'ittle." He rasps quietly, the bass of his voice sending shivers down your spine. 

Your breath hitches with a half-laugh. "Kay." You gently get off the bed and look over at him as he keenly stares at you with his still-glazed-over eyes. 

A look you may never get used to. 

You began pulling down at the hem of your waistband until the fabric hit the ground, being completely bare underneath. 

While the length of your slip fell just enough to cover your most delicate parts, he whispered, "Lemme see her." 

His voice is playful as he motions for you to come closer.

You take a step toward him. He reaches out and gently tugs at your hip, his thumb rubbing your hipbone, sending a muzzy feeling to your belly. With his other hand, he reaches over to the hem of the fabric, pulling it up—he throbs between his legs.

From his view, he could see all of you. Your narrow hips and thighs and the smallest patch of curls that covered your pussy. The little crease in the middle—so sweet, you were puffy, and sticky just from his kisses. You looked over at his garb—his robe now fully undone from all his movement, also nothing underneath. You took in as the section of his body hair went from his pudgy chest to his soft belly, which hung just barely over his waistline, and then turned into thick curls at his mound. His corpulent and hard, leaky cock presently standing tall just for you against his paunch. You gazed at the ridge of his pretty, purplish, rosy tip weep as it peeked from his foreskin.

Suddenly, you jolted as you felt his thumb at your swollen clit, a splotchy pink filling your cheeks. His touch was gentle yet firm, his fingers perfectly caressing your sensitive nub. You couldn't help but whimper, the lovely sound escaping your pursed lips as your hips instinctively bucked against his digit. 

"Ain't nothin' more purdy than seein' you all pink 'n warmed up. Could spend all day thumbin' away at that ‘dorable clit uh yours." He babbled as he applied more pressure and quickened the pace of his movements. 

Making you even more rosy. 

You could feel the heat building between your legs, the ache for release becoming almost unbearable. Every swipe of his thumb seemed to bring you closer to the edge, pushing you towards the brink of ecstasy. Your back began to arch as you leaned into his touch, but just as you were almost there, he pulled his thumb away. You let out a frustrated whimper, desperately wanting him to continue, then you went to cup yourself until he swiftly stopped you. 

"Dun cha get greedy on me now," he whispered, his voice coated with directness and a hint of humor. 

You couldn't help but pout, your need for satisfaction overwhelmed your senses. You ached. He had never stopped on the brink of your release like this before. His hand left your trembling body, resulting in you feeling empty and yearning for more. You watched as he brought his thumb to his lips, tasting the remnants of your sweet desire, a sly smile playing on his lips. The rosiness in your cheeks seems to grow darker with his action.

"Ah can't have ya fallin' apart jus yet," he murmured, his voice low. 

You looked at him doe-eyed as you clamped your legs, standing there. 

"Little 'un." Elvis whispered as he reached out for a hand. 

"Idenit time for ya to blossom," he continued as he pulled you closer, his warm breath hitting your cheek. "'ittle flower of yours needs ta bloom." Elvis gave you a nod as he spoke and guided you. 

"Bloom," you repeated as you held his strong gaze, and he began helping you lay on the bed. 

"Mhm, correct baby." He cooed as he helped you lie down. 

When you finally understood what he had said, your heart seemed to race. Staring up at the mirror above you on the ceiling, you took in as you laid delicately on his silk bedding. You began recalling the past nights and days of glancing up at yourself while Elvis rutted against your tummy when he cuddled you until he came, or when he'd only do little more than barely let the tip of his cock pierce your tiny hole—but never more than that. 

Now, he indicated that he wanted to take things further. You were both a little afraid and excited by it. Even so, you were genuinely more willing than ever. It made you rub your legs together thinking about it. You would constantly pester him for more, but he would tell you that it wasn't the right moment and that he knew when it would be. Thinking of his words from earlier, you thought maybe this would be his way of making it better after he'd lashed out. Maybe, he wanted to make it up to you by fully fulfilling your needs. You beamed at the thought.

Lost in your little mind, you were interrupted as you felt the bed sink next to you.

There he lay, still in his loose, silky garb, fully open, his hairy manliness laying solid against his belly while his balls were perfectly nestled below his shaft. You looked over at him as he began lying on his side to face you. His jawline was soft and his cheeks full, adding to the suppleness of his overall appearance. His overgrown sideburns adding to his rugged allure. The word ‘mesmerizing’ repeating in your head.

"Rest on yur side f'me, baby." You began turning over for him, but before you could, he stopped you—he saw the mild unease in your eyes. 

His hand cradled the side of your cheek as your eyes stared into his. However, he couldn't help but smile, thinking your muddled face looked adorable. 

"Hers dudden needs to be afraid." He whispered softly and patted your head now. 

With each light pat on your head, his warmth enveloped you, making you feel comforted in his presence. You smiled back at him softly, it sort of surprised you when he caught it. 

"H-Her knows." You whispered back in the same way he spoke to you. 

It was really rubbing off on you, for sure.

He leaned in, placed a gentle kiss on your cheek, and then motioned for you to rest on your side. Such a baby, you thought as you gave his chubby face one last glance. As you shifted onto your side, he scooted in closer, so he was spooning you, his round stomach pressing into you. You felt the hardness of his length up against your lower back, feeling the warmth radiating off as it throbbed against the thin fabric of your slip. You couldn't deny the growing ache between your legs, yearning for his touch and for him to take control. 

Elvis began lifting the hem of your garment, exposing your bare, pretty, round backside to him. His hand rested on the curve of your hip, his touch both firm and gentle. A shiver ran down your spine as his palm traced delicate patterns on your skin, sending those funny feelings through your body. You felt him move your leg a bit, so your pussy lips were peeking out between your thighs from his view. You felt him pulsing along your rear now, slick already forming at your petals. You couldn't help but arch your back, offering yourself to him completely. You heard him snicker behind you, bringing a blush to your cheeks. Elvis grabbed his thick shaft in one hand and brought it between your thighs, your slick and his precum mixing into one as he rubbed the ridge of his cock along your lips. 

Eagerly, you try to slide down, so his tip pushes up towards your entrance. 

"Careful, too big for yuh to take so fast," he warns as you bare down on his leaky tip. 

You move back unconsciously, and the head of cock grazes at your swollen clit causing you to shudder. 

Trying again, you huff, "Won't fit." 

Elvis is quite amused by this, and he tittered as he leaned into your neck for a quick peck. 

You feel his warm breath against your skin as he whispers, "Baby, needa take time t'stretch ya out properly." 

He trails his fingers along your inner thighs, teasingly rubbing circles on your sensitive heat. Your body reacts, flushing with chills and impatience. You can feel yourself clenching at nothing. Elvis raises the leg you weren’t resting on with his other arm, and you blush at how vulnerable you seem in the pose. He moves the hand he was massaging you with toward your mouth. You understood what he meant, of course. Carefully, you used your hand to hold the back of his large one as you carefully spit into it. You watch as Elvis gruffly giggles at your compliance as you gaze up at the mirror, his eyes peeking over you as he watches his hand lower back down.

Bringing his hand back down to your throbbing core, now slick with both your juices and saliva. His fingers glide along your folds, applying just the right amount of pressure to make you gasp. As his thumb brushes against your clit, a shudder runs through your body, aching for more. You arch your back, silently begging for his touch to become more demanding, more intense. His finger begins to pry at your snug cunt, slipping inside with ease from all your wetness. You feel him begin to inch a second finger inside of you, stretching you further and filling you completely. The sensation is overwhelming, his fingers deeper than you were used to. He would only nag at your hole in the past. You whimper as he starts to move his fingers in and out—a slow and deliberate rhythm. Your hips instinctively press down on his hand, seeking more friction and more of his lengthy fingers. You can't help but squeal, the sound escaping your lips as he curls his fingers inside you, hitting a sweet spot that makes your whole body shiver. You try closing your legs, but he still holds one up. He feels your leg shift and hears your cute squeal. Elvis lets go, letting your leg rest down, with a snicker as he looks over at you with a mischievous grin. Soothing his palm up and down against your thigh, he leaned to kiss your upper arm. 

"Ya kay, 'ittle?" he whispered in his southern drawl. 

You nod, unable to form words, as the sensations overwhelm you. 

Slowly, he removes his fingers from inside you, leaving you aching for more. But before you have a chance to say anything, Elvis is already positioning himself between your legs from behind. He catches a glimpse of your sweet little gaping hole that was dripping with want. He begins rubbing the ridge of his cock along your pussy, you feel his chest vibrate behind you from a low groan. His tip begins to ease in as he coos in your ear slowly. Without delay, he plunges inside you halfway, his lip curling at your tightness. You wail as he bucks his hips further, and you try to get away due to the harsh feeling of the big stretch. He carefully moves the arm he was resting on to go under your waist to hold you from your firm stomach as he hitches up the rest of your babydoll. Pulling you towards him, his gut pressing into you more. 

Taking a glance at your clenched fists and shut eyes, he grumbles, "S'okay baby, breathe." 

You gulp down and gasp, "'S't-too much." 

"Needa bit more little 'un." He croons and brings his empty hand to swipe at your clit from the front in order to break you in with more ease. 

With a final buck of his hips, he fills your sweet cunt completely, taking him all in. You cry out at the forceful pinch, your hand gripping at his hand that held you from your tummy. Elvis grunts loudly when you clench at his cock. 

"M-Mah god, baby, let loose f'me. You'll break me off wit' all tha squeezin'." He blurts out, his voice strained with pleasure and urgency.

Your body trembles against his, and he continues to swipe at your tender nub, wanting to bring any type of pleasure to you right now. Elvis glanced up at your face, a tear dribbling down from the corner of yours. He leaned in, kissing it away. Gently opening your glossy eyes, you look up towards the mirror, taking in the way you were both at last bound. His robe was still hanging loosely on his body, and his hair was tousled as he pressed his face into your nape. As you gripped him with your hand, you felt him grab hold of it and start pulling it down to your heat. Placing it between your thighs, where you and him connected, you traced his weighty balls over with your small hand. Indicating he was practically balls deep inside your dear little hole. 

"Yuh feel him inside ya." He whispered airily into your nape, the bass of his voice rumbling against your back. 

You blushed at his words, feeling a mixture of shyness and alertness. You nodded, unable to find the words to respond, as you focused on the sensation of him filling you completely. His hand remained on yours, guiding your movements as you continued to explore the intimate connection between your bodies. Your digits now covered by both yours and his fluids. Elvis let his hand loose and moved it over to your waist, both of his arms now holding you in a spoon position. As the initial sting began to fade and pleasure took its place, you began moving, slowly your movements against him became more confident. Each motion became braver as desire continued to build between you both. Your whimpers got louder, and you felt the hairs on your nape stand as you heard a little huff come from Elvis behind you. His grip on your waist tightens slightly, his breath warm against your skin as he buries his face into the crook of your neck. Pulling himself out slightly and then bucking into you again, causing you to let out a high-pitched moan as you experienced the overwhelming sensation for the first time. A dance of pain and pleasure intertwined within you. You were sure a trickle of blood had stained the satin sheets beneath you both as you felt the warm wetness building between you two. You were too busy taking in the feeling of his hardness inside you, he noticed as he peeked up at the mirror and saw you lying there with your small mouth gaping and your hand buried between your thighs where he had left it. 

"Touch yuh'self sweetheart." He grunted into your ear as he strained himself from moving his hips too harshly, his grip on your waist still firmly in his arms.

You complied, your fingers danced over your sensitive folds, slick with arousal, and maybe more, until they found your swollen clit. As you began to rub circles around it, your moans grew louder and more dire, echoing through the room. The mirror gave you a clear view of your own flushed face, your eyes filled with desire and vulnerability. The way he watched you, his dark eyes smoldering with lust, only fueled the fire burning within you. Every movement caused the robe to sway gently, revealing hints of his luscious curves beneath. As your fingers continued their rhythmic dance upon your clit, you couldn't help but imagine his hands—those strong and skilled hands—taking over. The thought of his touch, his fingers tracing the same patterns you were now creating, made your toes wriggle. Your breath hitched as you quivered as the warm, fuzzy feeling in your lower abdomen became more and more unbearable. His thrusts became more vigorous, matching the intensity building within you. The room was filled with the symphony of your moans mingling with his low grunts. As he maintained his relentless pace, you surrendered yourself completely to what your body was feeling. The tension in your body coiled tighter and tighter until, finally, with one strong thrust, you unraveled into a state of euphoria on his cock. Your body trembled with sheer bliss as he continued to move inside you, he watched as your pretty face contorted and your blush deepened. 

"O-Oh god." You whined loudly, tightening around him, and the throbbing of his girthy cock became even more pronounced. 

His grip on your hips tightened as he thrust into you with renewed vigor, looking for his own release. Each movement sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you moan prettily but uncontrollably. He glared over at you, bringing one hand up to grasp your jaw, his thumb once again finding its way into your mouth.

"N-Not so loud baby. Ain't want no 'un else hearin' ya gone like this, only me." He spoke between each heavy breath, sounding imposing. 

You nodded, unable to say any words. 

His thumb pressed against your tongue, silencing your moans as he continued to pound into you relentlessly. The room was filled with the sound of skin pushing against skin, blending with your muffled cries of pleasure. You felt your ears grow hotter as his grunts turned into gruff whines, it made you wonder how such a man could make such pretty sounds. He pressed into you harder, the suppleness of his hair-filled belly now squished into your lower back. Elvis' grip on you toughens under you, his fingers digging into the skin of your tummy as he pulls you closer, seeking an even deeper connection. His other hand now filled with your drool. Watching as his lip was now curled, you couldn't tear your gaze away from his beautiful expression slipping into that o-face of his through the mirror. With one final thrust, he let out a garish whine, emptying himself inside of your now-tamed pussy, filling you completely with his essence. You couldn't help but muffle a sob and bite down on his thumb as you felt his scorching seed paint your walls. 

He was still so far buried inside you as he let out heavy sighs. Elvis slowly began to withdraw his upper body from you, looking down at the slight space between his belly and your back, shifting his hips slowly to pull out, the base of his cock streaked with your pure blood. He paused as he felt your tongue pushing at his thumb and looked over, your eyes were watery. 

He withdrew his large hand, you turned your head over to him, the position putting a little discomfort on your neck as he was still spooning you. You were in awe of his blushed face and matted, lush hair sticking to his forehead from all his sweat. Bringing the hand you still held between your thighs over to hold the side of his face, your eyes widened as you focused on the redness of your blood on your digits, which had now smudged a bit on his cheek. Elvis took in your expression and glanced over at your small hand against his cheek, he snickered. Grabbing ahold of it, he brought it over to his mouth, giving it a soft kiss and even a subtle lick. Your purity now smudged along his soft lips. 

"A fine 'ittle flower 'as bloomed," he mumbled as he leaned his face into you. 

Your heart raced as his lips pushed against yours gently. The taste of his kiss, a mixture of your blood and his own essence, sent warmth down your spine. He steadily pulled away, enjoying the fact that your lips were stained right along with his. 

It left you brain-scattered and your hind eyes in a fuzzy state.

You were brought back when you felt him pulling his practically flaccid cock out of you. You winced as a dull ache shot through your body. Quickly sensing soreness, but a satisfied, weak smile tugged at the corners of your lips, knowing he'd finally gone completely with you. You stiffened as the warmth of his spew slowly oozed out of your snug, bruised hole. 

Elvis' view was a delight, he thought, watching as the scarlet milky mess glazed your puffed-up pussy lips, running down your inner thigh. Slumbering on your back now, your babydoll still pushed up but remained covering your small chest. 

But before you could turn to fully face him, you panicked as he stood up from the bed abruptly. 

"E-Elvis," you sputtered out, even reaching your hand out for him. 

He ignored your plea as he hurriedly walked towards the bathroom. His footsteps echoed in the silence, and you suddenly felt anxious. Moments later, he emerged with a damp towel in his hand. As he approached you, he saw the look on your face as you laid on your back. 

"Hey, what's wit' da worried eyes baby," he asked gently while gently leaning over at you. 

You still felt the pang of fret in your chest as Elvis leaned over you, his concern evident in his eyes. 

"I-I just got scared. Thought you w-were leaving," you admitted, your voice shaky. 

Elvis' expression softened, and he reached out to brush a strand of hair off your face. 

"Aww, don' worry, sweetheart. Am here now, ain't goin' anywhere," he reassured you, his voice smooth and reassuring in his drawl. 

His touch was comforting, and you felt yourself relax under his calm presence. 

As his hand lingered on your cheek, he spoke again. "Ah's needs ta clean my little girl now, kay." 

You nodded as Elvis stood in front of you while you lay splayed on the bed. He softly lifted your legs and began to gently wipe away the sticky residue, his touch sending shivers down your spine. His sunken eyes met yours briefly, a glimmer of tenderness, before he focused back on cleaning you up. You flinched as he swiped at your tender bud, and he couldn't help but grin. Finishing up, he tossed the used rag aside. Elvis had always been thorough in his caretaking when it came to you. As he gently began tugging your delicate top down to cover you, he paused and scrunched it up, revealing your small, supple chest and your soft pink meek nipples. 

Leaning down to give both of your petite mounds delicate kisses, "Almost forgot 'bout 'em sweet lil' things," he muffled as he kissed your warm skin. 

You found yourself giggling as you ran a hand through his tousled-up hair. One of the things he had made you become—a giggler. 

He stood back up and fixed your babydoll fully now as he smiled at you.

"All done, my little 'un," he whispered softly, his voice filled with pride and adoration. 

Collapsing beside you, his hand tenderly stroked your hair, whispering, "We'll get tha rest uh us cleaned up later." 

He then continued as you moved over to fully face him, his robe now imperfectly tied. "Needa hold ya darlin’, ah know how emotional you puny things can be after experiencin' this kinda thing." 

You snuggled closer to him with a giggle, feeling a sense of warmth and comfort in his embrace. The tubbiness of him being all the more cozy. As you both basked in each other, you felt the palm of his hand smooth down at your lower abdomen. 

"Yuh sore?" His voice held that babyish tone. 

"Bits," you mumbled as your cheek rested against him, feeling the rise and fall of his chest with each breath. 

His hand continued to caress your belly, his touch gentle. “Love her lots,” he suddenly blurted and leaned in to give your forehead a kiss. 

You gazed up at him, leaning in to kiss the fullness between his neck and chin. “Loves daddy lots too,” you whispered as you followed up with another kiss before you snuggled into him again. 

• Master List

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[6feathered6siren6]

Paradox

Author's note: Part 4!! I honestly struggled getting this next part out, but I did it. I have more ideas, drabbles of things I had planned for this one. But hope you enjoy! :)

Trigger warnings - Self-neglect - Torture

P1, P2, P3, P4, P5

『01:00』

Triple digits. You stared at the computer screen. The document of the novel you wrote. You felt so mixed. All you wanted is to write something perfect. Something different, something gorey, and filled with something that other novels would not have. Yet, you were trapped into this time loop, writing the novel differently each time when you did. You wanted to be able to leave it, be with your lovers. 

Looking at the link on your computer. You know you can’t leave the loops until you kill whoever is Victim, but… You can get everyone a better future. You already know almost everything that would happen, hell, you rewrote a loop once without joining. But in the final loop, you want everyone to have a happy ending.

Angel’s manager needs to go, get V to understand he is a softy towards the server, Misaki to take a different job but higher paid(Would giving them a task with a lot of money work?), and Ronin.. He just wanted to play games with you, just do that again? 

Sighing and leaning back into your desk chair. Before an idea pops in your head… What if using the server to find them, like what if they are connected? But you also remember what they say is either very similar or the exact same thing. So it couldn’t be them. 

Victim only got in contact with you in a loop… come on remember… it was in the 70’s, somewhere there… And they have been watching but from where? They only send 3 letters. 

1. Telling you that you have to kill them in order to stop the loops.

2. That killing randomly won’t work. 

3. 

What was number 3…  It felt like a blur, but you paused. 

You need to remember the smaller details, if Victim wants you to kill them, then you really need to become a perfect killer. 

Ping!

Luckily, there is a server that can help you. 

-

Misaki is a professional hitman or assassin, they have killed many before, so surely they can spill some secrets. You had a paper notebook, not trusting putting your notes into your computer. You never know when someone hacks into your computer. Misaki has told you before in another loop, that they had you on call when they were assassinating someone. So they might have some info for you. 

–

Slight bust. But she did bring in good points. You don’t even know what they look like, nor much, all that they want is to die and die by your hands alone. Always gifting you a bat, plain wood, same shape with slight color changes. Red most of the time, while blue in a few. Could it be morse code? 

No, you’re overthinking it.

You click your pen against the notebook. Looking at your very little notes. Would V help? He does detective work… only for killers but would he help?

Shit… would it be a bit late to send a message to him now? This far into the loop? Fuck it, now or the next loop. 

You started typing the message to the server’s vigilante, he has to help just a bit or you will text him the next loop, annoy him to get some lick of info.

-

Surprisingly, he pulled you into a call. A video call, you don’t bother to see your camera, just looking at him. He answered the questions you asked, he was even giving you ideas to look at. Which helped you immensely. When he left the call, you left the server, also making sure the server notification sound was off. You don’t need any distraction. 

-

You were writing in the notebook, writing for questions and ideas. How to get them? Like traps would work. But which ones?

Knock, knock.

Who was there? Getting over to the door, opening to see no one was there. Looking down to see a box wrapped in white and light pink. You slowly look around to see if you can find who did that. But no one. Picking it up and going inside your place, opening it, and it’s self care spa items. It was from Angel. 

‘So a few people on the server are worried about you, and said that your next murder is taking a lot of your time, so take a spa day and relax. (Trust me, I’m taking my advice right now!🤍) Enjoy these items courtesy from Angel and - - - -’

The second name was crossed off, then another note, it had dry blood on it. Most likely from Ronin. 

‘Get your mind in gear, you are freaking out a few people, so rest fucker. - Ronin’

He drew a middle finger for you. How lovely. 

You look at the gift then to your notebook. You had something to do. But… You do know where they live so you can send a gift back, if not this loop maybe another. But for now.. You need a shower. Then back to work. 

–

“Damn, Darlin’. Every time I see you, your eyebags seem to grow, you can probably hold about half my baggage in those.” He smirked as he saw you through the screen. You haven't slept for… 2 weeks? Damn… 

“Oh, hush, I have a reason.” You said, leaning back into your chair. You already thanked both Ronin and Angel for the gift. Angel was glad it was delivered without blood(Ronin was gonna apparently deliver it with blood.)

“Well, staying up for a long time can hurt your pretty little face. And no one wants that, do they?” Ronin did sound worried for you, but… it was… fuck. It was January. Two more months. Then everything would be gone, all the planning, the ideas, the traps, everything…

Darlin’…

Darlin’...

“Darlin’!” Ronin shouted, you looked back at his camera on your screen. He seemed a bit panicked, he was definitely worried now. “There you are, shit. You really are out of your mind, huh? Go rest, you really gonna need it.” 

He ended the call, he was right, but if you can retain any information about Victim, you will. As you stood up, you fell to your knees, barely any strength. You really need to eat something. 

-

You were passed out in the room you were working at. The corkboard holding red rope and notes of things. The room was dark as the moon rose to gaze its light to you. Paper garbage was surrounding you, time was ticking and you only felt further now than before. But to begin with… Who was Victim and how did they do this? And why? Why did you have to be stuck falling in love only to lose them in the end? By your hands or not. They have your answers.

『01:05』

Walking to Ronin’s alleyway, seeing if there was anything in the path that could be significant. In past loops, you scared the people in the server to the point they needed to intervene. Hell, Ronin visited you before the usual point he does. But, you are taking their advice to relax more. Light research. Nothing more. When you got to the middle of both your place and Ronin’s alleyway, a note. With Victim’s handwriting. It had dry blood on the note. 

“Nothing will save you. You deserve the pain you will receive, reawakening that thing, will only make you burn harsher in hell. I will make sure you die each time, with harsher and harsher death, making you suffer with the creation you made and regret who you killed. – “

The name was covered in blood, making it harder to read. Victim is after someone in revenge. Killing them over and over in these loops. But why? 

You know a bit more, Victim and there is someone else in these loops that remembers. But that ponders the question, did these loops start because the Victim wanted someone dead and revenge for someone else? Was it Victim or their… There is no name addressed to this, so what to call them for now… Creator? They created something apparently to the note, so was it Victim or Creator that started these loops? And why did they?

You feel like there are so many questions. But for now, you need rest, before Ronin goes victim hunting. You don’t need to die now, Misaki is requesting to watch an anime that's coming out, even though you memorize it by heart, seeing them smile is important to you right now. At least to pay back a favor from another loop.

『01:09』

You were out with V, patrolling with him with his route. He allowed you to follow him, after asking him politely, of course. You gained his trust, and you were seeing how he did things, you knew some, but not the whole thing. You looked at your hands, you haven’t killed anyone in the past couple loops, which in your opinion, was good. But you still got that bat from Victim. Taunting you? You still don’t know now. 

“Reader. Thank you for keeping me company during my patrols, I didn’t expect you to join me.” He said, the frost chill air surrounded the both of you, basking in that winter about to come to a close. 

You smiled softly, you missed the sweet domestic moments. “No problem! Plus, I do too, and I needed to get some fresh air.” You have been out constantly in the past couple loops, nope, it’s a break loop, no thinking about the loops. Just… enjoy the moment with them. 

V smiled back as he looked away from you to scan around again. Joining in, you also help scan, luckily from the last few loops looking for more notes from either Victim and Creator, you were able to scan for small details. Nothing out of the ordinary so far. The moment might have been quiet but it was a nice silent moment with V. 

He offered you tea afterwards. The tea was bitter but sweet at the same time. 

It was a peaceful moment, but you felt like something was off through the whole time. A pain in your heart. Like you were hurting again. God, you miss the moments, where you smile with the others. Loving them with your heart. Without worry about these loops.

These loops fucked you up, killing so many people, fucking with your memory, you knew so much about Angel, V, Misaki, and Ronin, but you barely felt like you knew yourself, then also messing with your mental health. You could barely look at yourself in the mirror anymore. Your moral compass was so fucked. You want out, but it seems Victim was calling your name, ending these loops. So much time to do so, but so little as well, from October to March. You still have so much to do. So much detective work. Closer to the end of loops, the better. 

『--:--』

Combat shoes could be heard walking through an abandoned building, a bat was in their hand, the wood was being dragged through the concrete floor. Untouched by blood. A chuckle filled the room, it sounded deep, a male. 

“Go fuck yourself.” Another figure was heard. That one was tied up on a chair. No way out. “You can keep killing me over and over, there would be no difference, I will come back the next loop.” 

“Maybe, maybe not. But, at least I get the joy of hurting you over and over, hearing your screams for what you have done.” The male had a grin, one of sadistic tendencies. “So be loud for me, won’t cha?” 

A loud crunch and a scream was heard for a couple blocks. A scream you couldn’t hear as you walked with V, talking about cooking and animals. A domestic moment away from the gruesome scene that was playing a few miles away from you.

[catominor]

my fictional romeguys introductory post to contextualise the posting!!!!!

this is my little guys from my novel project which is currently in its Infancy very much. the story is set... somewhere roundabout the 80s-70s bce probably. it's broadly about two guys who make a jointly beneficial political alliance (and also become friends in the process) their psychosexual joint consulship and its consequences

main guys:

lucius furius m. f. sp. n. camillus: 45 years old, semi down on his luck patrician. he spends most of his time when he isn't trying to enhance his dignitas in the political sphere being a weird shutin and not leaving the house if he can avoid it. was injured very badly when he was young during a brief military career, preventing him from doing war stuff again... for now. (he also had a hugely comical and deeply formative crush on his commanding officer during said military career). ambitious beyond both his physical and monetary means. has been in a sexless arranged failmarriage for like 25 or so years with his wife, caecilia, whom he was married to because his family desperately needed money (but he does love her in his own weird way i think). also loves gardening, stoic philosophy, being maybe slightly addicted to opium wine, books in general, and being inside and in his house reading his scrolls (despite being in politics, having to shake all those sticky plebs' hands makes him want to kill himself fr. the price he pays for his rightful place in society as he sees it...). he is a huuuge sullan also. to him sulla did nothing wrong ever in his life. most famous for being a bit eccentric and reclusive, but still quite respected by most of the senate for his modest lifestyle and his refined and learned tendencies.

gaius martinus: our biggest handsomest general... a couple years older than lucius furius, wealthy plebeian senator. he's a bit of a new man; his family has only been in the senate for a couple generations and never attained the consulship. he's a simple type of guy really; he's a squarely competent (though not really that astounding) military commander, not very book-smart, and has an impressive appetite for all of life's pleasures. most people who don't instinctively look down on him for these traits tend to like him tremendously; he's easy to talk to, friendly, generous, and cheerful. he has a wife, poppaea, who he loves very much, and 6 horribly behaved sons to whom he is a beautifully absent father. his favorite things to do are hang out at the baths or the gymnasium, throw big dinner parties or go out partying with his friends, and do his thang commanding his troops and chopping people up with his sword in The Wars. he doesn't have very strong political leanings, and mostly just wants to be paid attention to, adored, etc. most famous for accidentally unleashing a pack of tigers intended for his games into the streets of rome while he was plebeian aedile, and for throwing big knock your socks off parties (and not getting mad at the guests for taking a little of the food home)

heres a main guys image (coin of them i drew):

others:

caecilia: lucius furius' wife in their arranged failmarriage. for her this relationship is constituted of a mix of resentment and love; they get along very well mostly, and in another life they could have been good friends, maybe, but in this one they're married and he's wasted her life. she helped him tremendously with everything he's done in politics, both with her advice and with her money, and in return she's mostly just been taken for granted. she wanted kids. there never were any. she thought he might die from one of his many ailments (he is the worlds sickliest man) soon enough; he never did. who's to say you can't love someone while also wondering if you could get away with killing them every now and then? she mostly passes her time by weaving, and writing vulgar epigrams which she publishes under a pseudonym for funsies...

poppaea: gaius martinus' wife. there isn't too much to say about her; she really is gaius' other half. like him, she's cheerful, easygoing, and enjoys the finer things in life. she loves gaius dearly, despite the fact that he's far from faithful; poppaea isn't the jealous type, or else, knows she can't really afford to be. she is also a wonderfully absent mother to their children, mostly preferring to leave the child raising to the nannies and take pleasant strolls around the gardens and go shopping in the big markets with her friends. she has a close relationship with her father, and often visits him.

quintus poppaeus: gaius martinus' father in law. a thoroughly slay old man. businessman who was never involved in politics (made his money from the mines), loads of money and mostly spends it on building hanging baths in his baiae villa, installing the latest garden fountains to flex on the neighbors, ridiculously swagfully effeminate outfits, and so. so many beautiful pet fish. his only child is his daughter, poppaea, and he adores her. he also has a very friendly relationship with gaius.

furia: lucius furius' younger sister and only living sibling. she's a bit like him if he were more mentally stable and normal. she's in a barely tolerable marriage with another aristocrat. her and lucius furius don't speak very often; she resents him a bit for having power over her i think (their father died when they were young) and he probably made her marry whatever crappy guy shes married to now (have i mentioned this is a work in progress)

theres other of my own characters but these are like. the ones who will Matter the most and that i will post about tbh

none of the stuff mentioned in here are things which would like. spoil any Plot so i wont say any more... im not too precious about spoiling things cause its such early days (plus i think if i write well enough it will be interesting to read even if you know what happens hopefully?) but i just dont want to make the post any fucking longer lol...

[smashwolfen]

hello i am so in awe that you have collected all the pokémon games (i finished my collection of 3ds ones a bit ago but i considered a lot of the other ones out of reach) and i was wondering how long it took? i know especially the older remakes are insane to get so i’m super curious

(This got incredibly long i'm so sorry for the wall of text my guy)

In relation to this post

Hello there! :D

Believe me, I still can't believe it myself that I managed to pull it off considering who I had to get ahold of! Been happy dancing to myself ever since I got the last game~

God it feels like it was longer ago honestly, but I only really began trying to finish the Pokemon collection just a year ago! Had to check back in my DMs with my buddy, but the day I began to seriously search for the rest of the authentic generations was May 5th 2023, the day I discovered my copy of Platinum was a repoduction, ya watch ONE video regarding reals vs. fakes and it all went down from there when I looked over the ones I owned already, luckily Platinum was the only one who was fake ;w;

I had passively over the years been picking up games as I went, but from that day last year til recently I looked where I could for the games I was missing, to be fair I had about half the collection to begin with just from growing up and finding ones out and about, I only needed to find the pair of whatever I owned already, besides gen 5.... since I somehow never played gen 5 growing up. Funny enough I didn't have to look too far, every single game I found had all been local! Facebook marketplace saved me big time I just had to wait and compare prices til I was happy with what I was willing to pay for! I scrutinized every single copy I got my hands on and triple checked everything before I was satisfied XD

The 3DS titles were very easy to get thankfully, and the same goes for you too good on ya for getting your 3DS ones! Hardest for sure were gens 3-5, specifically ALL of gen 5 they are the WORST to get since no one wants to sell them and they're required to be able to move anyone forward to the 3DS and then to the Switch! I think It'd be easier to list who I owned and who I hunted for in the year of the search.

So I owned:

Red, Blue, Yellow, Gold, Silver, Crystal, Leafgreen, Emerald, Diamond, Pearl, X, Alpha Sapphire, Moon, UltraSun, Sword, Violet and Arceus (some I had gotten as gifts growing up and others I had gotten through yardsaling and thrifting by chance as I grew up, Emerald was 70 at a yardsale!)

The ones I got from the year of the hunt:

Ruby, Sapphire, FireRed, Platinum, Heartgold, SoulSilver, Black, White, Black 2, White 2, Y, Omega Ruby, Sun, UltraMoon, Shield, Lets Go Pikachu, Lets Go Eevee (I DID own Eevee before but traded it in before the hunt) Scarlet, Brilliant Diamond, and Shining Pearl.

Now knowing who I had to get, we all know it costs a pretty penny, so I essentially sold things myself to fund the hunt, like my amiibos I didn't really need or want, a handful of random collectable things I picked up and kept over the years (notably a masterchief helmet from the legendary collection I got for free like 10 years ago lol) and some odds and ends I didn't need anymore and to declutter the home! I think out of my own pocket I only paid maybe 40 bucks total so I paid for everyone that way! It was all mostly luck finding everyone and keeping an eye on marketplace, and some of them I had gotten from folks I knew! Black and Black 2 actually came from one of my managers at work who sold them to me for insanely cheap, and Sapphire I got for free as I mentioned in the games post XD

If you do try to go for the complete collection, I say have a gameplan for how to pay and build that piggybank of funds, go for what you can afford! So if you see a game without a case thats usually better, you dont NEED a case or have a game CIB really, a bunch of mine dont have a case or box and I'm alright with that! Look locally at second hand stores, vintage ones, marketplace or any other local yardsale or fleamarket type thing you may have in your area, and I say this with caution, but if you HAVE to, you can consider ebay, but I strongly suggest not to when it comes to the games. I had originally tried to get a Brilliant Diamond copy from there and well, dude never sent it at all and got my money (ebay fully refunded me but that still bites). And finally get well versed in learning how to authenticate to the best of your abilities, 3DS and switch I don't think can be faked but everything else can be! I used this as my guide to figure out who was real and fake in my search and it worked very very well! Twas my bible of knowledge

End of the day it didn't take as long as one would think, but luck played a HUGE roll in this endeavor, I was smart with my money, and I was very very VERY stubborn and wanted them all XD

If you go for the complete collection like I did then I wish you the best of luck my friend! And thank you very much for the ask! It kinda got away from me while typing but yeah thats the story and process of how I got all the main series titles!

[cleoselene]

my favorite dispensary (hayy Surterra) had their expensive ass vape cartridges at 70% off today, turning them into very affordable but high quality vape cartridges

seriously everything about their product is just much higher quality than other dispensaries. Their vape cartridges are so much nicer than what is likely some cookie cutter same shit that all the other dispensaries sell for 1g carts (and those fuckers ALWAYS clog and leak. not Surterra's) plus the actual oil you vape is just so superior. They're full spectrum vapes and I just now learned that mostly what the dispensaries sell here are THC + flavor terpenes, with no attention paid to CBD or preserving the natural, beneficial terpenes and tbh, it makes a big differemt/ These full spectrum carts get me so much higher so much faster.

wish I could have bought 50 of them and stocked but it seems like they holds this sale once every 3 weeks or so. The dispensaries down here used to do blanket sales: 50% off everything but now they seem to be switching to a daily special model where a few products are heavily discounted, the rest not so much. it's better for the customer if you can be patient and save up for sale day. I did today and wasble to get 5 1g carts. A botanical vape 1g lasts me maybe two days, buyt these Surterra carts are lasting me 5-7 days. game changer!

[artufex]

Living Up to the "Leftist" Part of My Blog Title, or: Late Stage Capitalism Steals Utility from Us

TLDR: Marx was right. Capitalism's focus on profit maximizing has infiltrated everything, makes products worse, and makes us unhappy and more mistrustful of each other.

I hate how late stage capitalism incentivizes everyone to monetize everything.

I was trying to listen to an album I bought on my computer and Windows' modern Media Player doesn't let you skip tracks or play whole albums. Like, WTF? I have to go back to the legacy player to play music albums. Who would want to lose that feature? What does the new player even do that makes it worth using?

I know the legacy player is there and it's still free, but I wonder, then, what's the point of the shitty modern player? It seems like it would only drive you to either a better open-source or a better paid alternative.

So going back to the legacy player in all of its Windows 7-era glory reminded me of how we used to get extras like minesweeper or solitaire or that awesome pinball game in XP as part of our purchase. Now, the pinball game is gone, and you have to watch ads to play solitaire or pay a monthly subscription to avoid the ads they force on you, no way to just pay a finite amount for stuff.

I miss Web 2.0 when there were like a million different websites and you could find so many different communities, when Google search worked and wasn't just a vector for search-engine-optimized ads.

I remember going to one of a million different Flash game websites and playing games that people just made for others to have fun. I miss going to websites that would do cool services for you, like letting you turn your handwriting into a computer font for free.

Now, I'm not saying there's any problem with wanting to make (or actually making) money from your work, of course not, but I think there is a problem with every interaction with another person or their work needing to be some kind of monetary exchange. I think Marx has a specific term for this, but it's been a minute since I've reviewed him.

Anyway, part of the reason that all changed was because of capitalism's drive for endless profit leading to corporations nickel-and-diming everything they can, like Adobe not letting you just buy and own Photoshop for one purchase anymore, or AAA game companies not allowing you to own everything in a video game after paying your $60 or $70 or whatever the sticker price is.

Along with that nickel-and-diming came squeezing more and more profit by paying workers less and less, making our jobs more precarious so we have to have a side hustle, we have to scrimp and save and we have to use social media to gather fans whose attention we can monetize through ad revenue and selling merchandise.

Because our sense of security is so unstable, because so much has been robbed from us, because we have decaying--and in the U.S. basically nonexistent--social safety nets, we are constantly having to look out for scams, to ask each other for mutual aid, and being forced apart. Like Marx argued, capitalism is alienating: It alienates us from each other, it alienates us from ourselves, and it alienates us from the joy of creative labor. (I might be forgetting a fourth kind of alienation. Again, it's been a minute since I taught theory.)

In the past, like my childhood on the internet mentioned above, people did things--and they still do things--for free because we like making stuff, thinking up ideas, and showing off our stuff and sharing our ideas with each other. That's why social media is popular: we're a social species! Marx argued our species-being, our human nature, is to work: is to create, to labor more than what is necessary for the propagation of ourselves and our species. That is, we do more than just eat, sleep, and fuck. We draw, sing, write, dance, play, talk, make longwinded blog posts at 12:35 in the morning instead of sleeping, etc.

People did this "free labor" more often in the past because people had a greater sense of security. They had this greater sense of security because their basic needs were being met. In Marxian terms, they were earning enough to meet their means of subsistence.

And with that greater sense of security, borne from having their base needs met, came more trust in broader society. It's less risky to trust people if your needs are secured. It's also easier to trust people won't scam you because there's less incentive to scam if they are secure.

But now that we see our institutions failing, crumbling around us while the state bends to the will of capital and ignores the will of the majority of the population (weed legalization? minimum wage increase?) people come to feel they can't trust those that are different from them. Social order and social bonds become weaker and, again as Marx predicted, capitalism is sowing the seeds of its own destruction.

I started writing this to complain about how Media Player sucks, and of course it's because of capitalism. I hope I did a good enough job of linking the two. It's not just an aphorism to say "capitalism caused it". I could go more into how capitalism uses the state to prop itself up and this merging of the state and business exacerbates fascism, but I'll save that for another post.

[the-firebird69]

There a few more things going on John ramalor is seeing now on the TV they see him going from commercial to commercial job to job saying that he sold everything and he's advertising all these products and he's on all these TV shows that have endorsements from products and people are saying you own these companies and there's hundreds and hundreds of companies he still owns and he's tried to use them on people so he is getting screwed they're going after him and attacking him and they're doing it tonight he's next door right now and he's chorling and saying he won and he's safe and stuff and we end up hitting him and people have us and he doesn't know for some reason then he gets hit here but we're going to start in on him now we had more sales today a lot of companies and they were decent companies to purchase and the people are not relieved but they know that they're going to be working making money and being profitable and getting things instead of nothing like they were with this jerk Trump they are big compan we're happy that we are we have a lot of work to do and we're looking fories and we are proud to be taking them on we have a lot of work to do and we're proud to do so

*JetBlue it is a really big airliner it is a giant airliner and it has a lot of stuff in it for a company that is not massive. He saw a Taylor Swift at a football game and Mr Tommy f was behind her with no shirt on and hair all over him and our son said would you look at that and had her say something funny like jeez Peter and he started laughing and laughing and started hit on her and she said no way get away from us he ran often you start drinking heavily and he is drinking heavy hard stuff and it came back stinking drunk and was trying to hit on him again finally she said that I wouldn't date you if you paid me a million dollars a minute and he goes how about a second and she said okay and so he's laughing and he said you're kidding and she said well take my assistant here and so they went off and it was one of her sisters and the guy paid tons of money so it was kind of funny. And this company is not so big but yeah it was the property of the trumpsters and they kind of ruined it and we're not running it properly and did not really invest the time and they knew it too and people didn't like it because they were wrecking it and it was theirs so we're going to publish but we are now revamping the Jets 75% are working order 25% of those need maintenance and the remaining 25% outside of that needs to be revamped they need serious work and a lot of parts need to be replaced it's not in that bad of shape but it's pretty bad as of right now we're keeping all the lines open we bought 70% and and we're keeping all of the airports open we bought the airports and we bought the ancillary equipment and there's a ton of it it's amazing how much equipment there is and we're wondering why they're selling it all but we do get it they need armies and they're just going to sit there doing their jobs and he needs to get chips and he doesn't care to own these companies or to attack them. This company is being revamped by us right now we have flights all over the world to every major city they're number 22 on the list but they have millions of jets and we're working like feverishly to fix it they have flights here to punta Gorda and Sarasota and they have flights to Tampa and Miami and all over Florida and it's about average for an airliner a little bit more and we intend to continue those fights the Jets are using here are not as good as other places believe it or not and we are putting new ones in service and renovating there's also a talk of US changing the tax structure of the company and it's not really necessary and we're probably not going to do that we're moving forwards not backwards we have counts as training the books out that's all they're doing is making it more legal. We have a line on jet fuel and more and we have we are set on that and we have suppliers we are looking for employees who worked in the airport industry and and on airliners every single job you can imagine even store keeps for the terminals so please feel free to look at the website and see if you need to get a job you can try and see if you can find one more shortly

Thor Freya

Olympus

You better have an appetite that's a lot of food and it says the chicken is not really that big so that's good

Hera

[psychicdragoncoffee]

11/9/2023

A few days ago I finished the playthrough of the first Kingdom Hearts. There were a few things I would have liked to have done I didn't bother getting to because the challenges I put on myself made it pointless.

Get every weapon for all characters. This felt pointless because I couldn't really change out weapons and gathering some materials needed for some of them would be more challenging than it would have been worth.

Making everything the moogles could make. As said before, some of the materials are a bit tricky to get on a No Continue run. So I skipped that.

Level 100, I have a hard time with that to begin with. It wouldn't have ruined my No Continue or Default Equipment run I just didn't feel like doing any grinding. In fact, going against Ansem during this playthrough I got to the end at level 56 and ended the game at 60. My normal runs would have me to at least level 70 or higher by the time I'm fighting Ansem.

I did get started on Chain of Memories. I didn't get too far into the game because the glares on the TV screen made it hard to focus. Plus, it gives me a headache if I look at it for too long. I prefer to play at night.

Out of all the Kingdom Hearts games I've played Chain of Memories was my least favorite. Mostly because the gameplay gets pretty tedious pretty quickly. One thing that was funny is that I didn't even play Chain of Memories until after I've already beaten Kingdom Hearts II.

[As a side note, Chain of Memories actually came out around the same year I started playing the first game. I got the game after the release of CoM.]

One interesting thing that happened was that I got a new phone. I wasn't going to upgrade until the beginning of 2024. But when I saw what kind of deal was going on I decided to upgrade sooner. Luckily I just happened to have my previous phone paid off.

My previous phone was an iPhone 12 Mini. I originally had it in purple. But for some reason, something went wrong with it and I had to get it replaced. [The flashlight and the back-facing camera stopped working for no reason.] So the replacement was black. It was disappointing. I prefer not to go with default colors if possible.

The new one is a pink iPhone 15. One thing I found pretty funny is that most of the previous phones had even numbers and not odd ones. So this is the first one without an even number.

Black 4S

Rose Gold SE [6]

Gold 8

Purple 12 Mini [Later Black 12 Mini]

So I ended up skipping 14 completely. Though if I were able to upgrade when I wanted to orginally I probably would have been able to get a 14.

The best part is that after the trade the phone itself would pretty much be free.

[stormblessed95]

There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask…I don’t have access to a lot of original Bangtan content so please bear with me. And please, correct me if I’ve seen edited versions of this.

There’s an episode of Run BTS (I think? - I saw this clip as part of a compilation) where Jungkook’s penalty is to let his members spend his money or to buy everyone whatever they picked at a store. And Jimin sneaks in a hat/beanie. And Jungkook kind of gets upset when he figures it out? Why get upset if your s/o is getting something?

Let me explain: First off, I am not a troll. I generally take all their interactions with a pinch of salt because we don’t know what they are or aren’t until they tell us. Second, I do think there’s more to them because there are some sus moments or moments that make me go 👀 but here is the thing - there isn’t enough to ‘confirm anything’ and so this is one of those moments that made me think, well maybe there isn’t much to them, maybe they flirt, maybe they explored but that’s all because if Jimin did indeed sneak in a beanie, Jungkook should have been okay with it or should have not gotten upset?

Okay, well ill answer this like perhaps you've just never tried googling anything, but you DO have access to original BTS content. ESPECIALLY RUN BTS EPISODES. That is free content love. And its on MUTLIPLE PLATFORMS. Vlive has recently shut down, but it used to be up on Vlive AND weverse for FREE. It's still currently up on Weverse for FREE. It's now also up on Bangtan TV YouTube in playlists... for free. Plus if you also just type into the YouTube "run bts ep x" tons of videos will pop up of subbed episodes ARMYs have essentially just copied over. Like run bts episodes are the easiest content to get access to. So not watching them is 100% a choice you make, not an inability to find or afford it. Which even for paid content, most ARMYs will upload things places for others to be able to watch for free. And I'm generally always happy to help people find links and get access to the content if I can.

I promise I'm not trying to come off as rude, but please, try to watch original content. Please. Especially when it's free or when you know of people (like me) who are more than happy to help link people to content in various different ways if you cannot afford to purchase it or cannot find it somewhere to purchase anymore because the content is too old (like memories or concert DVDs). I share links on here all the time. The episode you are looking for here is episode 70 though.

It's like 3 minutes in. JK loses at rock paper scissors and then has to buy everyone (who played and won) hoodies. He runs, grabs his wallet and basically says "I'll buy everyone one" and treats his hyungs. Who take FULL ADVANTAGE and tease the hell out of him and joke about buying everything, not just hoodies and spending all of JKs money. Tossing up shoes and hats and taking forever and going all through the store as JK keeps trying to corrale everyone and figure out who is buying what and hurry everyone along. Jimin kept saying he wouldn't get something snd then teasingly, jokingly, snuck in a hat. And JK was all confused at where the hat came from and RM snitched. Telling JK it was Jimin. Who was then confused because Jimin said he wasn't going to buy something and then teased Jimin back about going back on what he said. Jimin teased more saying he won the game so he should get it. RM starts joking about how its a freebie. Jimin starts hugging JK and laughing. As JK continues looking for the rest of his hyungs to finally finish checking out. Lol

Corraling 6 people through the store as they are all being silly is an exhausting experience. You should try it anon. Lol but he wasn't upset. He went right back to smiling and continued to shop with everyone too and agreed to buying everyone all their extras too. And then used that to try and ask for special treatment from them back at the house for buying all their clothes.

I genuinely don't care if you think they are just friends, or fuck buddies, or in deep passionate love. Lol but PLEASE watch original content! It's so fun, you will have a blast and it's honestly way better than compilations. I promise. You get ALL the context. Episode 70 is a continuation episode from 69 and continues into 71 too btw. And if you have any clips where you don't know where it came from, I promise, I am super happy to help you with finding the original video for it. I'm generally pretty decent at finding sources for BTS. Lol

Hope this helped and hope you enjoy watching the episode too! 💜💜

[abbochan]

so i’ve made a little exposition/small character thing(s) for Fresh Bones! this kinda covers all the unspoken details of the story & the already established setting/timeline. i just wanted to whip this up for y’all to chew on while i work on the next chapter and also to kinda fill in tiny story gaps that i didn’t necessarily go into detail with.

~~~

-Laura and Travis have been teamed up for about 8 months

-Travis is retired

-The only other surviving Hackett is Bobby

-Travis now owns the land that his parents once did, including the mansion, the camp, and the scrapyard.

-Bobby still runs the scrapyard from time to time, using the cash he makes to get himself into different hobbies his mother never let him try.

-Travis’ cabin has become their “base of operations”. his organized mess has grown since Laura came back.

-Laura stayed at a motel for 3 months before Travis decided to clear his spare bedroom for her.

-Bobby and Travis spend time together making homemade bullets, and more recently, making holy/sacred salts for bindings/rituals/banishments

-Travis and Laura working together has subsequently given Laura and Bobby a chance to face the past and Laura’s actions. Bobby is still a bit wary of her but if T trusts her, then Bobby can get there too

-Laura does the majority of the research, the bitch is a rabbit-hole diver

-Travis and Bobby do the majority of the scouting and sourcing.

LAURA:

-Laura is an only child

-Into horror films but now they kinda make her feel a bit uneasy and are a bit too ironic

-LOVES japanese candies/treats. Travis drives two towns over just to get them for her but she doesn’t have the heart to tell him she can just order them online. It’s one of his kindest gestures.

-Kickboxing for 5 years has REALLY paid off during certain situations. she is SPICY.

-Laura is not attending university

-Laura likes to cook but she and Travis often find themselves eating fast food at 2 am with documents all over the cabin floor.

-Laura’s not 100% sure what the hell they’re doing but she knows they’re helping people that others would normally call crazy, and that’s very important to her.

-Literally not afraid of shit. she’s been so brazen lately that her courage has started to eclipse into recklessness and Travis has had to save her skin a few times now.

TRAVIS:

-Travis’ favorite pastime was fishing, he stopped when the curse started. Laura wants him to teach her someday.

-Most of the money they use for hunts comes from Travis’ pension. It’s just enough cash to provide for their needs.

-Travis has an aquarium in his living room. Just a little hobby he picked up in the 90s. He has two angel fish. One is named Hall, the other's name is Oates.

-Travis keeps his health up by working out a few times a week. Nothing much but it helps him stay in shape. In fact, he never stopped exercising after he got older, even when the curse began.

-Travis loves 70s/80s music (duh) and enjoys putting on his old record collection on days they have nothing going on

-Travis hid that record collection from Constance for nearly fifteen years so he fucking LOVES playing the music loud with the cabin windows open.

-Travis is a decent cook, he’s surprised Laura a few times with his meals.

BOBBY:

-Lots of small town drama/bullshit happens after the events of the game and Bobby is quick to defend his brother if he hears negative gossip.

-He adopted a stray kitten and named it Goblin. She lives at Travis’, and despite his initial efforts to keep the animal out of his house, everyone enjoys having her around.

-Bobby typically stays behind on hunts to watch the house and take note of anything that comes to Laura’s “desk” while she’s away. He likes helping anywhere he can.

-Bobby knows how much his brother struggles with the guilt and aftermath of last summer, so he tries his best to be supportive of Travis when he’s going through his emotional days.

-Despite everything that happened, Bobby still loves Travis and is very happy he’s still alive. He understands why he did what he had to do.

[arkhangelske]

Hirohiko Araki discussing Yoshikage Kira

from Shueisha Jump Remix Diamond is Unbreakable Volumes 27 and 28. Volume 27 released on January 10, 2004, and Volume 28 released on January 26, 2004.

=SPOILERS FOR DIAMOND IS UNBREAKABLE!=

Part 1

Before we talk about Kira, lets talk about the town of Morioh.

It is modeled after a new residential development built close to where I grew up. Back then, I was looking at these new buildings and felt a sort of anxiety as opposed to admiration. “Was everything really going well [in there]?”

Looking from the outside, you see all these warm lights in the houses, but you have no idea what people are doing inside. These houses that looked the same were being built and they all looked pristine and happy. Doesn’t that sort of make you feel like a Kira might be [lurking] there? (laughter)

With ‘Diamond is Unbreakable’ my theme was to build out a town. I wanted to draw the humor and spookiness that might be lurking the peripheries of everyday life. Even myself now, there might be bizarre things going on if I just change my point of view.

I was also very influenced by the novels of Stephen King. I was reading them a lot in the 80’s and 90’s, but I especially liked ‘Misery’. The stage is fixed and you just keep delving deeper and deeper within it. Back then I read a lot of King novels.

Also with Part 4, I got to bring in a lot of my own tastes into the work so that was fun. Games, shops, Italian restaurants! With Tonio's store, I paid a lot of attention to what I was drawing down to the ornaments. It was great bringing that into the fold too… Research was also really easy—I just had to go home to Sendai (laughter) I would just go back, take a few pictures at a souvenir shop and draw them in—all within the realm of not being scolded [for frivolous travel] of course!

Also, Josuke's hairstyle, even my editor pushed back being like ‘Please draw a main character suited for the era’. But I thought it was good because he wasn’t. The way he cares about his hairstyle, it’s very ‘70’s~80’s delinquent’-like isn’t it? But when you go to the countryside, you occasionally see people like that (laughter) When I was a student, I would stay away from people like that because they scared me, but now there’s almost something endearing about them.

So it seems that when we remixed the comics, there were 7 volumes just dedicated to episodes related to Kira. I myself was like ‘Wow, did I really draw that much of him?’

One of the themes of ‘Diamond is Unbreakable’ is that Horror may be lying right behind our everyday lives. The reason for that is because I liked reading books on serial killers back in the 80’s—this is right before ‘Silence of the Lambs’ would be published and that became a trend—and I wanted to understand what the motivation of serial killers were. Why would you be born a human and do things like this? Those types of questions really interested me and the actions of these people I found really spooky.

So when I started drawing out ‘everyday life’, I had an initial assumption that a serial killer would be the enemy. A sort of different enemy from ‘Stardust Crusaders’, one that lies in wait. The ‘Stardust Crusader’ enemies came rushing in, but [I was thinking of] an enemy that would sort of lure you in… Eventually I was thinking of drawing something like that, but I wasn’t imagining Yoshikage Kira as a specific character from the start.

The first enemies were student-level enemies like Okuyasu and Keicho, also the guitarist Akira Otoishi—at first I was thinking of student level, delinquent level enemies. The reason for that being that I didn’t want to make a sort of ‘Greatest enemy’. When you create a ‘Greatest enemy’ to be overcome, to be the goal, the readers can’t focus on anything besides that. I didn’t want that to become a weakness in the work. For every story I wrote, I wanted the attention to be on what’s happening right now.

But it seems ‘Jojo’ readers really wanted a ‘Greatest enemy’ of some sort, I guess DIO gave off too strong an impact…. so when it seemed like the end was in sight, I thought up of Kira.

The name Kira is of course from ‘Killer’—so a murderer. Its very simple (laughter) The name ‘Yoshikage’… I wanted the first kanji of both names to be the same. Same with Jojo right? So it might be easy to remember if I aligned it around the letter ‘吉’. That;s all. But it sounded right.

I drew from Kira's point of view in his first appearance. I wanted to draw something from the point of view of the antagonist. Up until this point, I only wrote the villains from the point of view of the protagonists—the villains as seen by the protagonists. But antagonist has a point of view as well, and I wanted to draw what their mental state might be. Why does Kira commit murders? And I wanted to draw that in a fashion where he stays an antagonist and doesn’t become a protagonist.

So I didn’t want to make him a very sympathetic character. When you read about the young lives of these serial killers, you often see that they lived unhappy childhoods. But if you start drawing that out, they become useless as antagonists. So I took care to cut out those parts as best I could when building his character. That took a bit of work.

For DIO, he had a thing about becoming a pinnacle over humanity right? But Kira is pursuing true human happiness. That’s why he hates trouble. He just wants to live in a world of his own interests, and that’s what makes him dangerous (laughter) But he might have an philosophy of his own… The enemies up until that point like DIO and Kars were all aiming for the top—it might have been symbolic of the Japanese economy up until that point, like the bubble economy (laughter). Back in those days, DIO's might have been the more natural mindset and you might unconsciously sympathize more with that.

When I was drawing Kira, what people were looking for was tranquility. The idea that happiness is not about standing on top of others. Kira’s awards since he was a middle schooler were all for the #3 spot. Not #1 or #2, but #3. Not conspicuous, but still respectful. He himself has the talent to become #1. But standing out, making enemies, being chased, feeling pressure, feeling expectations he can’t handle that at all. There might be a lot of adults who think like that, but it’ll be creepy if someone was thinking that when they’re a kid right? It’s much cuter for kids to be like ‘I’m going to become #1!’ That sort of abnormality was what I wanted to draw, that sort of odd genius.

Killing Reimi Sugimoto when he was 18, that was Kira’s first murder. It’s around the same time Jotaro and his companions fought DIO. Maybe that was a sort of year when the stars aligned. A year of destiny. Josuke was saved by the man with the pompadour that year too, so a lot of things went on.

His first murder, it was probably by impulse. By chance, he saw Reimi and snuck into her house… and that changed his fate. If not for that incident, he might not have lived a happy life without killing, but the stars steered him wrong. And from there, you can’t shake fate. His first murder went a long time without being uncovered. You read about serial killers and how they have dozens of bodies buried under the floor. You wonder how that happens without being uncovered, but that’s really scary right? Maybe its driven by the apathy of the neighbors… With that first murder, Kira became destined to kill 48 people.

Part 2

Kira’s background of bottling up his nails… that was inspired from a real life story of someone who preserved his nails to monitor his own condition and stress levels. That person is not a serial killer (laughter) That nail story was interesting, and I remembered it. It seemed like something Kira might do… ‘When my nails have grown x millimeters, I’m doing great!’ ‘This is when I can never be caught!’ I feel like I do something similar… I measure my blood pressure and read from it my condition. Sometimes I feel invincible when the readings are good. There might be athletes who do that too… not with nails of course. Kira just does a sorta-creepy version of that (laughter)

Now for Kira’s family, do you remember that scene where you see a picture of Kira’s family, I put a lot of thought into drawing that. It’s not a fun-looking family, but it also looks sort of peaceful… and that’s creepy. The father and mother appears close to each other, but also distant. They probably haven’t ever really had a major fight either. When you read about a serial killer’s life, you feel chills when you come across a picture of them as a child. I wanted to imbue that picture with a bit of that feeling.

Now Kira’s father, he was a strange person. Not quite a criminal, but considered odd. He probably knew his son was a murderer and went ahead hiding his crimes. Of course, Kira’s father went to Egypt and obtained the bow and arrow from Enya to protect his son. Right around then, DIO was looking for allies around the world and Kira’s father was one of those accepted as having potential by him. The same for Okuyasu's father. People who had been scouted by DIO were all around the world, and even among them, Kira’s father and Okuyasu's father may have had extra attention paid to them as they were in Japan along with Jotaro. For the mother, I haven’t drawn anything about her at all, but I think she may have done a sort of ‘abusive coddling’ towards Kira. That’ll be scary right?

Even now, I wonder if I should have drawn out Kira's relationship with his parents in more depth. But I had to cut it out with much reluctance… or maybe I should say that I didn’t have the courage to draw that out. Like I said before, I didn’t want to detail Kira’s past too much. I didn’t want the readers to look at Kira and his father and think ‘these are actually very sad characters’. I drew out Kira’s mental state when killing, but if I started delving into the fundamental reason why he kills, Kira becomes a sort of sympathetic character… if you start emphasizing with Kira that’s not really appropriate for a Shonen manga. I didn’t want readers to feel sympathy. That may be the hardest thing about drawing out Kira. Although I think I might have been able to add another two or three volume if I started delving into Kira’s mental state, his motivations and his relationship with his parents.

I’m really interested in familial relations… the Joestar bloodline is about families too after all. When I draw a character, I start wondering about their parents or siblings. It might be because I was influenced by my parents and sisters a lot. When follow that trail, when you draw out an antagonist I start wondering what influences he got from his family. But if you start delving into that person’s background, you start straying from the theme. There’s so much you could draw out. Even DIO had a lot of influence from his father. But because this is a weekly serial manga, its always difficult to decide how to cut that out. I mean, you only have 19 pages to draw on a week. That’s no space at all. You basically just have to take one idea and run with it. But even then it won’t fit, so I have to think hard about how I might condense two pages down to one…

Kira was cornered once and had to flee. Some people thought that might be the end of Part 4, but I was always planning on reviving him. His flight is equivalent to DIO's resurrection. You think he’s lost, but then he surges back… around there was I really felt a sort of vitality from him. A different sort of vitality from DIO. DIO's is merely a biological vitality, but Kira was able to tap into the world of a sort of spiritual or mental strength. At that point, Kira trumped Josuke and his friends in spiritual strength. It’s because he had that resurrection that Kira became such a great antagonist. If he had given up then, he would have been a no-go.

I didn’t think at all about using Cinderella to change his appearance. When he was cornered and I was thinking hard about how Kira might escape, lighting struck me and I realized ‘hey I could just use Cinderella which I wrote about last episode!’ I’m basically thinking at a week-by-week interval and never about what happens after that. I don’t know about Jump manga these days, but it’s all about how I make this week interesting for me.

I also like that part after this where Kira becomes a ‘father’ as Kosaku Kawajiri. There’s a P.K. Dick novel about an alien masquerading as a father in a family; I wanted to draw something like that. Only the son knows that he’s an alien… those types of stories are fun. Those episodes are written from the point of view of the son Hayato Kawajiri, and I think it was good as it changed up the pace. After that you had a few Kira point of view stories and you saw that wife falling in love with Kira. I guess it’s plausible that you might grow to love someone if they’ve actually changed, but falling in love with a serial killer, that’s sort of abnormal too and good.

At the end, the son discovers his secret and Kira discovers a new ability. That’s an extension of his resurrection. It’s impossible to stick around in Jojo with the same ability, you have to power up. The youngling who develops into something greater is a common archetype in Shonen. It’s one of the things I feel are a ‘must have’ in a story. Josuke and Jotaro are sort of ‘completed’ characters so it’s difficult to draw a development scene for them, but Koichi-kun and Hayato Kawajiri fit that type. To see Kira also grow in parallel to them is an atypical way of fulfilling a Shonen stereotype.

On ‘Bites the dust’ ability. When you start thinking around the theme of time or rather time travel there’s a lot of variations you can delve into like stopping time, rewinding time… So its sort of like me passing on ideas I wasn’t able to use for DIO. I like the idea of time manipulation. I did something like that with ‘Golden Wind’ and ‘Stone Ocean’.

Writing the ‘Bites the Dust’ episodes were fun. It felt like I was assembling a puzzle or building a game. But because the same time was incremented so many times, I became concerned with whether the readers would follow along. I said this before too, but given that I only have 19 pages a week, I started wondering if this was appropriate for a Weekly manga. A weekly serial has build up story tension within those 19 minutes then pass it along to the next week. It’s a lot of work, but I see those as the rules I have to work within.

In the end, Kira dies after having been run over by an ambulance, and his face was obliterated and nobody could tell who he is.

With ‘Diamond is Unbreakable’ … with the town of Morioh, I wanted to trap it into a world of ‘eternity’. Like would the wife have been happy if she knew that her husband was no longer the same person? If she realized it, it would be a bit boring right? So I was fine with that state continuing forever and no answer being resolved. Within myself, Morioh will forever be in that state. What happened to Josuke after the series? I don’t think about that at all. Morioh is ‘eternal’.

I drew Kira also in a spinoff called ‘Deadman’s Q’. Being trapped in an ‘eternal’ world with his soul being unable to go to heaven or hell, I thought that might be a form of suffering or punishment too. The same thing with Diavolo in ‘Golden Wind’, but it might be a punishment to be trapped within eternity. In the commentary for the short story collection [‘Under Execution, Under Jailbreak’] 

I wrote that I was tearing up as I drew the story (laughter) I was very invested in Kira. I almost understood his feelings, if only he hadn’t committed murder… I didn’t draw it at the time, but thinking back on it I feel that he might have been person with the burden of sadness too.

Out of all the villains I’ve drawn so far, Kira is my favorite. I like DIO too… but more than DIO. Because he was seeking a quiet life and wasn’t a character you would see often in a shonen manga, I was very invested.

This content comes from JoJo's Bizarre Encyclopedia (https://jojowiki.com), and must be attributed to its authors, as specified in the license.

[bewitching-elizabeth-olsen]

Press: Elizabeth Olsen, Much Like Wanda Maximoff, Comforts Herself With Classic TV

W MAGAZINE: For W’s second annual TV Portfolio, we asked 26 of the most sought-after names in television to pay homage to their favorite small-screen characters by stepping into their shoes.

WandaVision was the first television show produced by Marvel Studios, and any gamble Disney+ took to make the series happen immediately paid off. At one point during its nine-episode run, WandaVision was the most popular streamed show in the world (beaten only recently by another Marvel series, Loki). The suburbia-set series received critical acclaim, snagging 23 Emmy nominations—one of those for Elizabeth Olsen, who was nominated for Outstanding Lead Actress in a Limited or Anthology Series or Movie for her performance as the titular Wanda—and convinced even the biggest Marvel skeptics to buy into its delicious plot.

It might come as a surprise, then, that Olsen doesn’t really watch that much contemporary television herself. But who could blame the actress, when most of her time is spent filming scenes for the Marvel Cinematic Universe as Wanda Maximoff (also known as the Scarlet Witch), a wielder of chaos magic who materializes in the small town of Westview—first as a 1950s-era housewife married to a humanlike robot named Vision (played by Paul Bettany), then as a ’60s housewife, then a ’70s housewife, and so on. When the actress does watch television, though, she prefers to get into some of those older shows, like Murder, She Wrote, which she chose to re-create above, and, of course, episodes of ’90s sitcoms like Full House, of which there was no dearth in the actress’s childhood.

My contract with Marvel was done. Kevin Feige, who runs Marvel, had me come into his office, and he pitched me WandaVision. I loved the concept of it, but I was terrified of a new streaming service—that is now Disney+.

Did you know the entire concept going in, or was it revealed to you over time?

He told me that he wanted to create a story about Wanda Maximoff manipulating reality to mimic the sitcoms that she grew up with in order to comfort herself. He wanted it to be kind of trippy, for it to feel like a sitcom, but twisted, kind of Twilight Zone-y. That reminded me of Twilight Zone: The Movie, where there’s a boy who is obsessed with television, has a horrible family, and he conjures up a bunny that kills his whole family. It’s really wacky. I just thought, It would be incredible if we do anything that’s a piece of that.

Were you personally a fan of I Love Lucy and other old sitcoms?

Yeah, I watched Nick at Nite all the time. I loved I Love Lucy, Laverne & Shirley. I didn’t like The Brady Bunch, but I loved the Brady Bunch sequel movies. That made me excited to get to reference The Brady Bunch [in WandaVision].

Did you shoot the episodes in order, or did you go back and forth between the 1950s and ’60s?

We tried to film everything in order. The exteriors, though, we hopped around. Our fences, the color of the houses, the flowers all look different from decade to decade. Luckily, it was pretty contained, but it really was sad to wrap the sitcom. We wrapped it when Paul and I and Kathryn [Hahn] and Teyonah [Parris] were filming the ’70s opening montage to the Brady Bunch theme, and that was how he wrapped it—in six bizarre outfits, with a pregnant belly on a tandem bike.

Did you keep anything from the set?

I’m not a keeper, because I feel like I’m not allowed to [keep things]. I feel like everything goes into some box that they hide from everyone, then maybe eventually they’ll retire and reuse shit. I have no idea.

I thought you might keep Wanda’s apron!

That would have been a really impractical apron. It was made out of gauze. Anything would bleed right through it.

Do you have an understanding of women in each decade now? Did you have to wear the undergarments and the whole nine yards?

Yeah. I loved the undergarments. It’s all helpful for the time, for the character, for how women move, how they talk. The shoes were the worst. I did wear vintage period shoes. And that’s awful. My feet don’t even like heels, let alone heels that have quite literally no support.

Is it difficult to have kissing scenes with all the purple paint on Paul Bettany when he’s dressed as Vision?

It’s really hard. It comes off on me, even though they try as much as they can to powder him. They have to powder his hands all the time, because if he wants to touch my face… They have to be on top of us for those scenes. It’s really not practical.

So which character did you decide to play for our portfolio?

I decided to be Angela Lansbury [as Jessica Fletcher] in Murder, She Wrote. I asked my friend Clayton Hawkins, who’s a hairstylist and great with wigs, if he could get a cheap wig and wrap my hair. And that’s what we did. I was watching Murder, She Wrote in London a lot.

During lockdown?

I was filming there, and in and out of lockdowns, but filming through lockdowns as well. And that was one of the things that would be on the television. I think I never really sat down and watched Murder, She Wrote until then. It’s fabulous. Great guest stars, great whodunits. My favorite moment is when they solve it and play it out for you in the solving of the mystery and going backwards. It’s just delicious, and it feels good to watch. There’s a great horse-racing episode that I loved, because I love the racetrack.

Did you have a TV show you loved growing up?

I never did Dawson’s Creek, I never did any of those shows. What did I watch, though? I loved Family Matters, Step by Step, The Torkelsons. And I loved Full House. We had all the VHSs, and it was very easy to watch at my house.

Did you have a crush on John Stamos?

Yes.

Who was your cinematic crush when you were growing up?

Frank Sinatra. I didn’t know they were old movies that I was watching. So when you say “TV shows,” what I consumed as a child was all old musicals, like Oklahoma!, Guys and Dolls, Carousel, West Side Story. I loved classic musicals, and I was in love with Frank Sinatra. I would do scenes with him in my bathroom, which then turned into scenes with George Clooney as I got older and I realized Frank Sinatra was an old man. I was like, Well, maybe if I get older, I can at least work with George Clooney, as his daughter’s friend or something, and then we have a thing.

What was your first red carpet look? Was it for Martha Marcy May Marlene?

Yeah, Cannes was my first red carpet look. I was in the Row. I was in a black Row skirt and a lace top, and I didn’t have an undergarment on. I didn’t know that flash photography at night was going to be my enemy, and my publicist worked really hard to try and remove those pictures from the Internet. [Laughs]

Do you have a secret skill?

You know what I’m really good at? Removing stains. I believe I can remove a stain from anything.

How did you learn to remove stains?

Probably started with my mom, who’s a soaker. That’s kind of the first rule: patience. And then, because I cook so much, I think I just had to learn. I’m pretty “woman of the house” handy.

I thought you were going to say that your secret skill was that you can sell real estate. Because when I first met you, you had a real estate license.

I did. It’s definitely expired. I got my real estate license because I didn’t want to work in a restaurant in New York as a summer job. So I thought, I’ll work in a real estate office. I was dealing with my sister’s friend who was a realtor, and I dealt with his rental clients. And I would mispronounce streets in New York all the time, because I had just moved there.

Press: Elizabeth Olsen, Much Like Wanda Maximoff, Comforts Herself With Classic TV was originally published on Elizabeth Olsen Source • Your source for everything Elizabeth Olsen

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Fish

For @whump-advent-calendar‘s day 4-6, Burn/Candles

CW: Referenced medical whump and dehumanization, light burn (accidental), captivity, muzzling, drugging reference, reluctant whumper turned caretaker

Introduction | Siren Song | Cries | Here | Not Sure | Draw Blood | Fish | Signs

---

BAHRAM’S NOTES NOTE TO SELF - SAVE IN EXTERNAL HARD DRIVE. DO NOT LET DR. L SEE.

October 22nd, 20XX 3:45 am Mer in Residence: 19 Days

It’s time to admit I’m more or less keeping a diary at this point as I get to understanding him. So far I’ve written separate notes to myself… for ten or so straight days of the nineteen we’ve had him here, and it’s getting harder to write the official transcriptions the way Dr. L wants me to.

Dr. Lachlan insists I call the mer ‘it’, that it’s to help me distance myself emotionally since it’s such a good mimic of humanity, but I don’t think it’s a damn mimic, I think it’s just… human.

I mean, obviously it’s not HUMAN, but… Miah spelled it out for me, we had an argument about this when he first got here. She gets so angry that he’s getting hurt and you know, I guess I believed Dr. L - mer aren’t my specialty field, I’m a snake man really, I don’t know the first bloody thing about fucking cetaceans. 

Anyway, I said to her at the time, “It’s not human.”

She told me, “Maybe not H-U-M-A-N, but P-E-R-S-O-N,” just like jabbing me in the chest afterward. Also, Miah can fingerspell in a way that really makes you feel like a six year old getting yelled at by your mother, for the record. I can’t describe it any other way. I was ready to just melt away from personal embarrassment before she even finished signing “person.”

That’s not the point of this. 

I didn’t start a diary just to tell myself how right Miah is about all of this, but hey, here we are.

I need some days off so badly.

Miah wasn’t around today, it’s really just been me and the mer - I’m off for four days coming up here, after 20 days of work, and she’s going to come in and do 24-hour watch until I’m back. It’s not so bad - I don’t really know anyone here, and the bed’s comfortable enough. Dr. L’s paying rent on my apartment so I won’t lose it while I’m working, anyway.

I still feel like some low-level henchman, though. Like any moment some asshole in a tank top is going to show up with guns and I’ll just be a faceless evil stepping stone before the boss fight with Dr. L. 

I mean, we all know that Dr. L’s going to be the boss fight, right? Anders would just like lay down or throw Miah in front of himself or something.

No, that’s not fair, he really does love her.

Bahram this is all hypotheticals about a video game. Get back on track, man.

So Miah must have gone shopping or something. She came back with a bag full of these candles from this bookstore she really likes. I mean she came back with an insane amount of books, too, but she had this candle she pulled out and put down on my desk.

She set down the candle - it’s this really nice deep blue and has some kind of like ocean scene painted on the label, like, isn’t that thematic - and smiled at me. “This one reminded me of what we’re doing,” She told me, and her signs were… softer. Her expressions were softer alongside them.

Does that mean… anything? I don’t know. She just put it on my desk and then wandered off. I thanked her but I had to take her shoulder and get her to look at me, first. Maybe her face was a little red.

Maybe not. 

We keep the tank room pretty warm, I’m sort of cold-natured and the mer seems more active when we keep the lights really warm, so… 

I don’t get why she bought me a candle and why she looked away before I could thank her for it. I don’t get it, and I feel like I should, but I don’t. Is she not looking because it wasn’t a big deal, or because it was a big deal, or… what?

I really WOULD sink into the floor if Dr. L or Miah ever saw that I wrote this. Get it together, Bahram. You are not writing a diary about Miah fucking Kirsse. 

It’s been just me and the mer, all day. Dr. L was gone, too, meeting with whoever’s funding this whole thing. She’ll be gone until next week, so there’s no real work getting done, for now. Just blood draws.

She’s showing them its claws she took off. I don’t know why. Honestly, I have such a bad feeling about this, but I needed the cash and nowhere else was hiring for a job that would give me room and board and still time to work on my own research. Not that I’ve done a bit of THAT in a week.

I get too distracted by the mer.

He swims in circles. He stares at nothing, or pokes the plastic coral and ferns we got him, or hides in his cave. I can switch the screens over to watch the camera feed from inside the cave, but he doesn’t do much in there, either. I caught him picking at his scales, and I need to ask Dr. L about that. She took three scales off his tail, which for the record I had nothing to do with (whose record? I’m writing this to myself, and what the fuck does it matter about scales when I’m the one sticking the damn needle in his elbow twice a week), and I caught him sort of whistling sadly and picking at the empty spaces. 

They’ll grow back, Dr. L says. She’s not worried.

I am.

A little.

I’m starting to think Dr. L is lying about a lot of things, and I’m not sure what to do about that. If anything. This is a job, and I get paid better than I’ve ever been paid in my life. So… what do I do?

I could call the hotline and report him. It’s anonymous. 

She’d know I did it.

I don’t know why, but… I don’t want her to know it was me. Cowardice, I guess. Pure bloody cowardice.

But Miah hasn’t emailed the hotline, either. We can’t both be cowards, right?

Anyway.

Tonight was tank cleaning, which is a bloody fucking chore. Anders was around long enough to help me get the mer tranq’d and into the lift and then the rolling tank where he can just sit until I get my work done. Poor thing just lolls around when he’s tranq’d up. Barely blinks. 

Doesn’t stop its fucking crying, though.

We took a lot of blood from him today, too, so he was very weak. Barely moved, just curled himself up small so he was totally in the water and watched me work after Anders left. We’ve got a scrubber machine that does the hard work, I just have to hose some things down and then make sure its filter is still operating correctly. Watch the scrubber. Whole process takes about three hours from start to tank totally refilled, as long as I do it weekly. It’ll take much longer if I let it slide.

Double-checked the camera in the cave, and when I walked out of it I saw the mer’s head was up, watching everything I was doing. He dropped right back down under the water when he saw me looking at him. The muzzle looks so monstrous on him, but more than that, it makes him look like a monster.

Maybe Dr. L doesn’t muzzle him to keep us safe, but to keep me from seeing his expressions while I’m here with him all day.

No, that’s stupid. She doesn’t even think he’s sentient, right?

I finished up, and when I came to roll him back to the lift, I saw he’d popped his head up out of the rolling tank and was looking around the room itself. He hasn’t really looked around at all before this, and he was still tranq’d but maybe I fucked up the dosage? Because he was pretty alert, kind of whistling to himself and giving little chirps and clicks. He sounds like some weird mix of killer whale and fucking otters or something. When he saw me, he flinched back down under the water, but I had this idea.

Dr. L took his claws, and he’s still muzzled except when he’s on the table or when he eats, so like, it’s not like he can hurt me, right?

His eyes had gone to my desk, looking at… I guess all my books and papers and my laptop and everything. Maybe the candle. I waved my hand around until I saw that he was watching me again. With those big eyes it’s hard to tell exactly what he’s looking at, but when I clapped my hands he blinked at me, so I know he can hear it, can see me.

Then - and I swear I’m not lying - he moved himself up out of the water, and put his palms together. His earfins twitched out and back against his scalp, and his white hair dripped water all down his shoulders. 

He cocked his head at me. Then he put his hands together, harder this time. He clapped, and then… he clicked.

I KNEW it. I KNEW clicks were questions. Dr. L said their brains don’t work that way, but I bet they do. Who’s even considered how their brains work? Maybe they’re just like us. All the studying I’ve been doing shows that the scans we’ve done of dead ones are pretty similar in overall size and placement of their center of language. They’ve shown that mer populations have their own dialects if they don’t interact with each other, like the Atlantic transients sound totally different than the Pacific transients, which sound different than the residents that stick close to the coastlines up by Alaska...

Making my own head hurt. I don’t even care about fucking mammals, but I guess I do now. 

“That’s right,” I said when he clapped, not like he can understand but still. I said it, and I clapped again, and he clapped back. “Can you give me your head? I’ll take your muzzle off, yeah? If you don’t bite.”

Dumbest fucking idea ever, but hey. 

I think maybe he knows the word muzzle, because he whistled and shrunk down again, lowering his hands. His ear flaps flattened again. I saw the deep red marks around his neck, from how we have to use the catch-pole to get him out, and I just. I just felt like shit, you know?

I’m shit, that’s what I am, we’re torturing a child, more or less, who hasn’t done a thing to anyone but be by himself because he lost his bloody fucking family. I can’t keep telling myself I’m not the bad guy, you know? 

I’m going to jail if I report him, aren’t I? I helped bring him in, after all. There’s my whole career down the drain.

Is this how it felt when everyone was being shit to monkeys in the 70′s and calling it psychology? Did some of them just go along with it because they thought they had to?

This is not helpful, Bahram.

I sat down at my desk and tried to figure it out. His eyes were on me the whole time. I looked over at Miah’s candle, and looked at the label. Like I said, ocean scene. Fronds and ferns and…

I turned the label to face the mer, and tapped on the image with my finger. “Fish,” I said, feeling dumb as hell. I told myself, it’s a bloody animal, Dr. L would roll around laughing at you for this.

But he came back up out of the water. There was a long moment, and I heard him click, and then a soft, “Sssshhhhhh,” sound came from behind his muzzle. They have lips like ours, although their way of communicating is basically whalesong and relies heavily on underwater acoustics. He’s louder in the tank than out of it, although I guess fear might make him quiet, too.

The recordings I found on youtube they get in the ocean are deafening loud. Their voices travel so well underwater, it’s amazing. People sell fucking CDs with mersong over piano to fall asleep to. 

I poked at the ocean scene on the label again. “Fish,” I said firmly. “Do you want fish?”

He knows fish. 

I KNOW he knows fish because he sat up, held out his right arm, and tapped his elbow with a blunt-edged, broken-off claw before he looked back at me, trembling with fear. He clicked again, twice.

I can’t even tell you how shit I feel, realizing he was asking if I was going to take his blood first. That’s what he meant, it has to be. He poked at the exact spot where he’s bruised up from the needle. 

But it makes sense, right? 

He’s been here twenty days, more or less. Every couple of days, when he’s hungry enough, we bribe him with fish to get the pole on him, take blood or whatever else, and then he eats. 

No, WE don’t take his blood. I take his blood.

He thinks - and he’s fucking thinking, I know he is - that he only eats if we stick a needle in him.

I’m hurting a child.

I’m teaching a child to be hurt.

I’m not religious but this feels like the sort of thing you ask for forgiveness for, doesn’t it? I should call Maman and ask her who I could talk to. I’m going to call Maman or Baba tomorrow.

No I’m not.

What would I tell them I need to speak to someone about?

What if whoever I speak to calls and reports him, and Dr. L knows it was because of me?

I need to stop thinking about this. 

“No, NOT draw blood,” I said, and he whimpered again, held out his arm further, closer to me, tapped his elbow again. I knew he could still hurt me - their strength is prodigious, the first time we got him out of the tank he nearly pulled Dr. L down into the water with him - but I decided it was worth the risk. 

I kept thinking, he’s more scared of me than I am of him, but you know, of course he is. He’s the one with bruises.

I stretched my own arm out and showed it to him. He flinched back a little, and then leaned forward again, sitting in the little rolling tank that’s barely big enough to hold him. His blunt claws touched my arm, delicate as a feather, clicking as he poked at the sleeve of my sweater. 

“No draw blood,” I said. “Just fish. Eat.” I mimed chewing.

He looked at me and clicked twice, cocking his head, then looked at my candle from Miah, pointing at the ocean scene. “Ffff-sshhhh,” he said, muffled. 

“No, that’s a candle, it just has fish painted on it. Candle. Fire. Yes?”

Blank stare. 

Then, repeated, “Ffff-sssshhh.”

I sighed and pulled out my little lighter. I don’t smoke or anything, but I hate the way matches smell, so I have a lighter on me basically all the time. Plus, having lighters was a pretty good way to make friends back in undergrad when I gave a fuck about that. 

I flicked on the lighter, and the mer chirped, curiously. 

Has it never seen fire before?

Why would it, it lives in the ocean. Don’t be a dumbshit, Bahram.

“Fire,” I said, and held it out a little for a closer look. “Fire.” I tilted it and lit the candle, and the mer leaned forward, rapt, as the wick sparked up to flame and I blew the smaller flame on the lighter out. 

“FFfffff,” The mer said, barely audible. It clicked and held out its hand, and I wasn’t fast enough.

“No, wait stop-”

The mer’s fingertips touched the flame and it let out a deafening loud cry of pain and jerked its hand back down into the water, whimpering at the new kind of hurt, looking at me like it was MY fault, and maybe it was. Eyebrows furrowed, little crease in its forehead, big sad eyes. 

The big sad eyes are wrecking me.

“Well, don’t touch fire and you won’t burn,” I said, shaking my head. “No touch fire. Fire bad. Fire burn.”

He held out his hand to show me. “Ffff-rrrrr.” It was a plaintive little breath of air, not quite a real sound. 

The ends of two fingers were a little dark, that’s all. I could explain that by saying he’d hurt himself in the tank, maybe. I shook my head and pointed at the water, and it put its hand back in there, huffing a little breath of relief, I think. The water probably helped with the sting. 

“Right. Fire bad. No fire.”

“Ffff-rrr... buh-ddd.” 

“Right. Fire bad.” I stood up and walked over behind him, and he tried to turn and watch me but I shook my head and pointed back at the candle and he sort of huffed again and looked away. I felt him tense when my fingers touched the back of his head, but he sat still.

Probably because if he struggles when she goes to take the muzzle off or gets her fingers near his mouth, Dr. L has this electricity stick thing… 

I’m not supposed to mention that in the transcripts.

I’m not supposed to mention how he screams, and he doesn’t sound like a whale or an otter, then. He doesn’t sound like an animal.

He sounds like a child.

He IS a child

He’s just

I’m a fucking

No. I need to focus. This is stuff I can’t tell Dr. L, I need to write it down here where it’s safe.

The muzzle is easy to get off, you just need to be looking right at it, and I unbuckled and pulled it free, feeling a little resistance from how well it stuck to his face. Without it on, there are deep red lines along his cheeks and jaw, not open or bleeding, just irritated. 

He didn't grab at me, or bite. Just watched me with his big eyes as I laid it down on my desk. For a second we were both just quiet, looking at each other. 

Then he pointed at the candle again. “Ffff-sssshh.”

“No,” I said. “Candle. Fire.”

The mer’s eyebrows furrowed and he shook his head, echoing what I did earlier. His hair slapped around. His teeth look like shark’s teeth up close, only there’s a lot less of them. “Nnnn-nnnuh,” He tried, shaking his head again.” Nnn-uh. Ffff-sssshhh.” Then he pointed at his mouth, opening wide, showing me the tongue behind his teeth. “Fffff-sssshhh. Ffff-ssshhh.”

I laughed, covering my mouth - he seems to be scared when we show too much teeth, probably in the ocean it’s a threat and they don’t smile like we do. Which, why would they? 

But, see, I realized that he wasn’t pointing at the candle at all, but at the fish painted on it. Then he moved to look at the bucket of fish he gets as a reward for obedience, and pointed at that, then looked back at me to see if I was paying attention.

Of course I was. I was barely fucking breathing. This is signs of abstract thought process, recognizing that the image of a thing isn’t the thing itself. That he can point at it to represent what he wants. “You want fish? Is that it? You’re hungry? Want to eat some fish?”

The mer blinked and made a sound like a chirp, clapped his hands together. “Rrrrr. Fff-sssshhh.” He pointed at his mouth again. “Ffff-ssshhh. Buh-rrrrmm. Ffffsshh.”

“What did you say?” I whispered. My heart went cold. I can’t describe it any other way.

“Buh-rrrrmmmm. Ffff-sssshh, Buh-rrrmm.”

The bloody thing knows my fucking name. 

He knows we have names and he knows mine and that means-... that means he has one, doesn’t it? If he has a name, if he has

I’m his fucking nightmare aren’t I 

I’m the worst fucking thing that could happen to him, me and Miah and Dr. L and Anders and this is a job but it’s the worst thing that’s happened to him and it’s only

It’s going to get worse for him.

He’s going to die here and he’ll know all our names when he does.

Anyway, so... you know... I brought him a bucket of fish.

What else was I supposed to do? 

He knows my name!

He let me put the muzzle on him again without fighting after he finished, and I got him back in the tank once the water was refreshed, and he’s sleeping off his meal now. I can see him on the feed, curled up inside the cave.

But I’m wide awake, so I thought I’d write this, because…

Because what the hell do I do now?

I can’t tell Miah.

Can I?

 ---

@astrobly @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @slaintetowhump @moose-teeth @misspelledwitch @whumpfigure @whumptywhumpdump @boxboysandotherwhump @whumpywhumper

[selfwriting-sugarquills]

70 George Weasley headcanons in celebration of 700 followers!

A/N: I hate to repeat myself but I do still love and appreciate all 700 of you! Thank you for reading my stuff and here’s to 700 more! <3 

Find the 70 Fred Headcanons: Here 

George is well known to be the brains behind the twins’ operations. He sorted out finding the location for the shop in Diagon Alley, he came up with most of the names for their products, even if Fred came up with the idea for the product itself, and for the longest time, he was the one who sorted out sales and orders for stocking their wares as well as overseeing the owl post-service while Fred sorted the more practical parts.

It might sound crazy, but if you ask George, he didn’t actually like Fred very much until they were about eight or nine years old. George was a lot more quiet and emotional than Fred and frankly, probably feared his mother more than his twin, and so George always thought Fred was too brash for his liking. Eventually, as we know, Fred’s crazy ideas rubbed off on George, and he started liking his twin more and more until they became the inseparable duo we know and love today. Mostly this was because the two found out how well they complimented each other, which meant that whatever they got up to turned out a lot better than when they’d attempt the same alone. 

Fred added an extra oomph to their escapades, daring to aim just a little higher, and George was sensible enough to make sure that a little higher wasn’t too high. 

It’s only their older siblings who noticed this change and remember the times where Fred and George didn’t get along as well as they did, which is why Bill, Charlie and Percy tend to treat the twins more as individuals whereas Ginny and Ron are more likely to see them as a duo. 

Since George is more sentimental, he’s also the bigger worrier. Did they like that joke? Did that prank go too far? Is this worth it and what are we going to do if it isn’t? He’s usually also the twin who’s more likely to step back and apologise to anyone they’ve pranked or teased, not liking the idea of upsetting someone.  

This also means he’s incredibly considerate concerning relationships, he’s not afraid to voice his concerns and worries. If his s/o is struggling with something, he notices, worries and tries his best to support them. 

Essentially, if their s/o is upset: Fred is more likely to make a joke to make them laugh and take their mind off it, George is more likely to take them aside and talk to them about it, letting them let their feelings out for as long as they need, he’ll listen for hours if that’s what his s/o needs. 

Speaking of letting feelings out: It’s been pondered if the reason George is the better beater, despite Fred being the more brash and extreme of the two, is because he uses the quidditch pitch as an outlet for his aggression and considering his anger doesn’t just involve beating bludgers but also resorting to elbowing people in the face (or beating Malfoy up) I’d say that this is incredibly true for him. Most people share the opinion that if something angers George, he’d let it build up until he explodes (myself included) and playing quidditch is a good way to let off steam without it being directed at anyone in particular, making him extremely violent on the pitch, though after every game he plays, he’ll probably be in his most zen and relaxed state of mind.

I do also like the idea of George being very emotionally mature in the sense that he knows how his feelings tend to build up, and since George is also a worrier, he probably doesn’t like the side of him that explodes in people’s faces and yells until he’s done being angry, so: He does try to confront his feelings as soon as he feels them so they don’t get a hold on him. If he’s angry with you, he’ll tell you, if he’s upset because of something that’s happened he’ll tell you. If he doesn’t and seems all quiet and broody (cause he’s not a saint and sometimes he doesn’t confess his feelings) then it’s probably a good idea that you ask him about it. 

George is also not afraid to cry, or at least he’s not as afraid to show it as Fred. He actually cried quite often as a small child, as Fred will happily remind him. The only times George will hold his tears back is when he doesn’t want to make the people he loves the most worry, like when he lost his ear. 

He was so close to crying he thought his throat would split open but he kept it in while his parents and Fred were there; he couldn’t bear to worry his mother more. Not to mention Fred for that matter. Instead, he waited until he was allowed to take a shower and let it out as quietly as he could, though little did he know Fred was standing guard on the other side of the bathroom door, crying as well. 

George doesn’t want a lot of children, he’s so used to the large family dynamic. It’s not that he disliked having many siblings but he’d prefer to have a few kids, three at most and be able to spoil them rotten. 

George has only broken one bone. It was his collarbone from a bludger. Besides that, he has dislocated his arm once due to hitting a bludger too forcefully from a wrong angle and sprained his ankle from landing too quickly more times than he can count. He’s also been concussed from taking bludgers to the head twice. 

George is actually a bit of a neat-freak. He likes having things in order and in the right place so he doesn’t lose track of things. He can’t put too many things in cupboards because if he can’t see them he’ll forget he has them and buy more and more (cause ADHD, baby), so instead he keeps things where he can see them, though in racks and specific orders which Fred often messes up.

Generally, once they moved out, George was better at doing the housework and he didn’t mind at all. Doing all the housework means it gets done the way he wants it done. 

His favourite season is winter and his favourite holiday is Christmas because it’s “a time for family”. 

George prefers Molly over Arthur (though it’s a tough pick), and he especially loves spoiling her once the shop takes off. He’ll buy her gifts often and always writes to remind her how much he (and Fred) appreciate her. 

He’d never admit it but he also does this as a way of proving himself to her. It really hurt him in those years where Molly would disapprove of his and Fred’s plans and even when he found success he still grappled with the feeling of his mother not being proud of him, despite her telling him that several times. All this just added to his disliking of Percy when he was at his going through his insensitive-git-phase.  

 George’s favourite time of day is the evening. When everything’s quiet and still he can concentrate better. He wrote most of his essays and came up with most products for the shop during this time. 

George loves intimacy. He’s not big on PDA. Cuddling alone together, being all tangled up in each other and having whispered conversations when everyone else is asleep are more his thing. 

He does love being close to you in public though, he’ll sit next to you, hold your hand, have an arm around you, lean his head on yours, bump his knee against yours under the table if you’re in a lesson or at a meal together. Small yet intimate touches are George’s romantic love language. 

George’s favourite sweet is chocolate. Anything with chocolate is good. If there’s caramel or coffee involved too then even better, mint is also accepted (his favourite flavour of ice cream is mint chocolate chip and he will fight you on why it’s the superior ice cream flavour) 

George prefers tea over coffee and drinks AT LEAST two cups a day but can easily have up to four or five depending on how long his day is. 

George takes a lot of naps. He’d occasionally nap at Hogwarts, like most students. He really started after he lost his ear because Molly kept fussing over him and forcing him to go lay down and rest, then it became even more of a regular thing after the battle of Hogwarts when he’d stay with Fred at st. Mungo’s, while he got better, and then when Fred forced him to go back to work because “sitting here, is not going to make my leg work, now go make us some galleons you git!” he’d work the shop mostly by himself, well, actually completely by himself beside his employees, which was still a small team at the time and he’d often just have to excuse himself to go upstairs and take 30 minutes to nap before he’d pass out from exhaustion. 

George struggles with some sensory problems since losing his ear, he gets a faint ringing sound in his ear every now and then, and though he can hear out of his missing ear, it’s less than his other one and he struggles determining where sounds are coming from which is distracting sometimes. He also got a bit of vertigo every now and then as well as some nausea for the first few years after he lost the ear, it got better and better and today it barely bugs him, though he gets dizzy easily.

On the subject of the ear: George enjoyed telling his nieces and nephews (and heck his own kids too) these wild stories of how he lost his ear: he paid it as a toll to an ancient spirit to gain superpowers, it froze off on a particularly cold camping trip with their uncle Fred, a bludger blew it right off, he was possessed by the spirit of van Gogh…. the list goes on. 

George was also slightly self-conscious of his ear for a while, he often worried if people were grossed out by it, though with time he forgot about it more and more until he hardly noticed it himself. Now he doesn’t notice if others notice and frankly, he couldn’t care less if they do.

Fred and George mention in OOTP that they took turns testing products, George tested puking pastilles and ended up taking several days off because of what Madam Pomfrey thought was a bad case of the stomach flu, nosebleed nougat (he said himself how it kept bleeding and at that point he let Fred do more testing because Madam Pomfrey was starting to get wayyy to suspicious of him having some terrible disease that was thought to be long gone) and fever fudge though Fred also tried that one. 

George takes after his mother as a parent, his platonic love language is definitely cooking for his kids, making them hot cocoa and baking with them during Christmas breaks. 

Does he fuss over his kids as Molly does? Noo, absolutely not no. no way. no. no. (yes)  

George’s boggart is being left alone. 

Despite that, he hates it when people assume that he and Fred are interchangeable and incapable of being without each other. He loves his friendship with Fred, he’s very happy to be his twin but he’s still his own person and it would be nice to be seen as such and not just “one of the Weasley twins” 

Mostly his hatred of being seen as “one of the Weasley twins” stems from the fact that people always assume Fred first, meaning George has been mistakenly called Fred more times than he can count. 

George is very timid, to begin with, in any relationships because he’s worried his s/o wants him to be like Fred, and that they don’t really care about him as a person but see him more as an asset or “the next best thing to Fred” Which is also why he’d never marry Angelina after she’d dated Fred, even if it was just for a while. 

George spent his first salary from the shop on a gift for his mother, a necklace, and a mixed bag of sweets from Sugarplums'...He knows it’s stupid but he just wanted to buy as much candy as he wanted without feeling guilty about spending money for once. 

George is not squeamish what so ever. He has got a stomach of steel. It’s almost kind of freaky how unfaced he is but then again, he did invent and test puking pastilles and a product called you-no-poo, so he’s seen a lot.

George’s favourite dates are movie nights and going for ice cream. 

George (and Fred) regularly attends quidditch matches, they also love to go back to Hogwarts to watch their kids play (you know at least one of their kids would be into it, considering the Weasley’s history with the sport) and they always yell out their support v e r y loudly. 

George really likes wine. The older he gets he appreciates it more and enjoys talking about it without any knowledge on it at business dinners, he’s impressed quite a few potential clients and business partners by giving them a long tirade about wine, without a single thing of it being necessarily true. 

George (+Fred and Lee, lol) experimented with eyeliner for a short while, they stopped because it was quote-unquote: “too much work” which made a lot of their female friends roll their eyes because, oh you’ve no idea, do you, Weasley?

I mean someone had to test the wonderwitch products, right?

George is a very light sleeper, and since Fred is anything but that- what with his sleepwalking and tossing and turning- George rarely got a lot of sleep, meaning there’s a large percentage of his detentions in school that were solely from “inattentiveness” aka “falling asleep in class.” 

George always thought that if he really really couldn’t work with the joke shop, he’d be a healer. He doesn’t know if he’d be any good at it but it’s a nice thought and he does have a caring gene from his mother. 

George’s first sign of magic was when he was a year old. He summoned a blanket into his crib, so it wasn’t much. His first noticeable thing he did was three years later by blasting Fred off him when they were play-wrestling, he basically shocked him with a defensive charge which sent Fred flying onto his back. Fred’s reaction was sitting up, looking shocked, rubbing his head and then whispering: “cool!” They spent days trying to recreate it but to no avail. The story of the event has been greatly exaggerated by both Fred and George to their nieces and nephews. 

They still joke that George has a secret superpower that can only be unlocked by play-wrestling him. 

As George gets older, he requires glasses like his father, though mostly for reading and sometimes for working on products. 

George’s favourite genre of music is soft rock, he’ll belt out an 80’s power ballad any day (and preferably while cooking) 

Oh, cooking. George gets super into cooking and baking after the twins move out, he tries his best to recreate his mother’s recipes and is still to this day attempting to perfect her cornish pasty (a personal favourite of his) and every Christmas, George and Molly practically never leave the kitchen in the burrow, as George desperately tries to learn everything he can. 

George is the godparent of all Fred’s kids as well as Albus, Dominique and Lucy. 

George buys the best gifts, I’ve already touched on this, but he has a weird ability to get you not only what you wish for but what you really need. 

Also, his gift wrapping skills are out of this world (his kids + nieces and nephews will never not receive those gifts that are wrapped in like 100 layers of paper)

George loves pet names, he loves the overly sweet, cliché ones and the simple, common ones. His favourite to call his s/o is darling, sweetheart and, weirdly, pumpernickel (he just thinks it’s a funny word).

George’s favourite dates he’d take his s/o on is: museum dates, cooking for them at home, picnics and going to the beach. 

George actually kind of liked the Hogwarts uniform. It was easy to keep track of and it meant he could spend minimum time in hand-me-downs that rarely fit perfectly. 

George would love to have (and probably has already got) a dog, he doesn’t care what size or breed (but personally I can see him getting on well with a cavalier or a Stabyhoun) 

George (also) has a small size kink: He loves wrapping his arms around his s/o from behind, enveloping them in his jacket when it’s cold and resting his head on top of theirs. 

George is either full of energy and wants to do five things at once or wants nothing more than to lay flat on the nearest soft surface he can find and watch movies until he falls asleep. 

He often takes his s/o on random adventures, he does it as a way to escape boredom or if he’s lost his inspiration. He finds it helps to come up with new ideas if you throw yourself off your rhythm (if you get it you get it) by doing something random you don’t normally do. 

George has big John Mulaney energy and if his s/o ever showed him his shows, he’d probably never stop quoting them. 

George’s favourite body parts on his s/o: Neck, hands, lips (and butt) (this is where it gets steamy just fyi) 

George is very respectful in bed, he’s the type to ask “are you ok?” and “is this ok?” a lot, at least the first couple of times he’s together with his s/o until he gets to know them better. 

George def. has a praise kink, he loves giving praise but he also loves feeling like he’s appreciated and loved and doing a good job, you know? 

We all know George has a thing for lace, we’re way beyond that at this point. Consider silk, though. He’d totally be into silk over the lace, it’s a light fabric, pretty and really easy to tear away…. *wink* 

George is surprisingly good at opening bras. 

Generally, he’s really good with his fingers…

He has a pretty dirty mind when it comes to sex but is also super embarrassed about it so he’d only admit his kinkier thoughts when he really trusts and knows his s/o. 

I think he’d be pretty two-sided in bed, he loves the intimate, sweet sex but also the rougher, tearing-your-lingerie-off-you sex. 

He prefers receiving more than giving oral but it is by such a small margin, he’ll happily give. 

He can only last one round (maybe two if you give him a long break) but he’ll absolutely make it count.

George’s fav position is missionary. As much as he likes trying other positions, he prefers the intimacy of missionary. Plus he thinks being able to see your face as you unravel under him is really hot.