#er doctor!gale

[trashbag-baby666]

Pilot-Firehouse au

Summary: There’s a new probie at Casper fd, Gale is one step closer to finding out who Rosies been going on dates with, welcome to the madness.

WC: 3,385

C/W: None!

au masterlist!

MOTA Masterlist!

John skipped through the fire department a pink box of donuts in his hand. Most people would probably ask what’s got you in a good mood? But no one batted an eye at John, because this is just how he carries himself all the time, aspiring to put a smile on all his crew's faces. Today it would be with donuts tomorrow it might be dad jokes.

“Morning, Bucky.” Curt wiped his hands on his pants and took the powdered sugar donut out of the box, “Chicks got a probie in the office. Told me to send you in when you got here.”

“Sounds good,” John nods, heading up the metal, red steps and going into Chicks office. A brown haired man sitting on the opposite side of Chick, his eyes wide with excitement. Fresh out of the academy and ready for some real action.

“Morning chief, donut?” John held the box out.

“Yes please, thank you, Captain. John, this is Captain Egan. One of the finest firefighters CFD has ever seen.”

“We’ve got another John?” He raised an eyebrow leaning over slightly to see the file on Chicks desk, “John Brady, how do you like Brady?”

“I…uh.”

“Come on, Brady, wouldn’t wanna be late for the morning stretch circle.” John called, bouncing down the steps, Brady scattering after him, “Guys this is our new probie, Brady.”

“Fresh blood, huh?” Dougie leaned on the fire truck

“This is Dougie and…” John looked around for a moment, “Where’s your Missus?”

“I ain’t anyone's missus,” the lengthy blonde came from around the front of the truck, eyeing up Brady.

“And this is Howard but everyone calls him Hambone, maple long john for you.” John plucked the donut out of the box and handed it to the blonde, “I’m putting Brady with you guys today, so please be nice to him…Brady, good luck with the hazing.”

“You’re ours now, pretty boy.” Dougie put a strong hand onto his shoulder, shaking him lightly.

“Come on stretch time, boys.” Curt clasped his hands together grabbing the attention of everyone, quickly being overshadowed by the loud siren that began to ring, “Nevermind.”

“Suit up, Brady!” John clapped him on the back, offering a small crack of a smile.

—---------

Gale’s all too familiar with the sounds of too many voices all at once on top of the constant voices on the intercom paging doctors, the occasional groan, the clacking on keyboards. The sound of the Casper, Wyoming ER became nothing but white noise for him, “good morning, doctor.” Rosie stood against the counter in the breakroom. His words okayest doctor thermos in hand, a small smile on his lips.

“Morning, doctor.” Gale opened his locker, “How’re you this morning?”

“Doing just fine.”

“So I take it the date went well?”

“Oh, how did it go?” Croz pushed open the break room door, his stuffed to the brim tote bag over his shoulder eyebrows wide with curiosity.

“It was fine guys, but I don’t kiss and tell.” Rosie put his hands up in defense. Croz and Gale had been trying to crack the code into Rosies love life since late med school when they met Croz during their residencies. But he kept it a secret from them and wasn’t budging still.

“You’re no fun, Rosie, who else are me and Gale supposed to gossip about?”

“Linda from HR. No, I’m kidding, gossip about me wouldn’t be very much fun anyways, but he did meet Freddie last night.” Rosie glanced at the two of them as he walked towards the door.

“Oooooh,” Gale snickered, getting to meet Freddy was a big deal. Rosie didn’t let just anyone meet his elderly deaf cat with separation anxiety.

“Sorry I gotta get back to it,” Rosie put his hand on the door handle shooting them a wink.

“I’m glad he’s found a guy, this was their…fourth date I think he mentioned the other day?” Gale and Rosie had met their freshman year of college since they were roommates. Then they just never separated and lived together all the way up until John asked Gale to move in with him.

“Me too,” Croz sighed, putting his bag away, “How was Delia’s game yesterday?”

“Great! She almost had a home run, but they did win, six to five!”

“Sorry, we couldn’t make it, Junie got sent home from the day camp yesterday with a fever.” Gale knew Croz and his husband Bubbles kept very busy with their four kids.

Hell, Gale only had two kids and they kept very busy.

“That’s alright, how high was the fever?”

“Hundred and one I think she sweated it out last night. She was drippin’ this morning when I woke her up.”

“Hopefully it passes fast. It makes me so sad when the girls are sick.”

“Me too, hopefully we can contain her germs to herself and we don’t have a house outbreak.” Croz rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. The last thing any of them needed was a Crosby family sick outbreak that could possibly spread.

———————

Brady squeezed the excess water out of the sponge and back into the bucket of soapy water. Pressing the sponge back into the truck. After the call John had asked Ham, Dougie, and himself to wash the truck. But the other two had long since abandoned ship , leaving him by himself.

“Dougie and Ham ditch you?”

“Jesus,” Brady put a hand out on the truck turning to see John with that same smirk from earlier on his face. Bending down he grabbed the other sponge out of the bucket.

“Curt used to do the same shit to me. I promise they’ll like you, they do this to everyone.”

“How long did Curt, y’know…? Harass you for being the new guy?” Brady scratched the back of his neck with his free hand.

“Oh I don’t know, I think a good month, till I saved his ass from a burning building.”

“Oh.”

“How old are you, kid?”

“Twenty four, sir.”

“Well you’re aging me specially with the sir, no need for this sir and captain bullshit. Just call me Bucky, everyone else does.”

“Okay, capt…Bucky.” A moment of silence passed between the two of them. Brady just hoped he was doing everything right like he had been taught in the academy.

“Got a special someone in your life?”

“Oh, uh, no. I haven’t met the right one yet…there weren't a lot of options in Sundance. Thought I’d have a better shot since I play for both teams.” Brady chuckled dryly hoping he wouldn’t be ostracized for his sexuality here.

“Amen to that one! I thought I’d be single for the rest of my life, till I met my husband.”

“How long have you guys been married?”

“We actually just celebrated our tenth anniversary last week.” John snickered.

“Well congratulations, do you have any kids?”

“Yeah, we’ve got two girls. My oldest will be 13 next week and our youngest is seven.”

Brady felt a hole of anxiety in his chest begin to fill itself back in knowing there was at least another lgbt member in the firehouse. He kept it to himself at first in the academy, he didn’t want a stigma to follow him.

Brady picked his head up at the sound of a dog barking, meeting the sight of a white and light gray husky in a service dog vest dashing towards John. “Oh hello there, Meatball!” John scratched the husky behind his ear, “This is Meatball, the hundredths mascot and staple.”

“Is this the new probie?”

“Yep,” John clasped a hand on Brady’s shoulder squeezing gently, “Brady, this is our driver engineer Benny Demarco, he’s Meatball's other half.”

“I’m not married to him, I promise.”

“Did you look into the tax benefits for it?” John asked, tilting his head and putting his hands on his hips.

“Nice meeting you, Brady.” He held out his hand for him to shake.

“Nice meeting you, I look forward to working with you.” Brady shook his hand, his grip tight and firm.

“Come on Meatball,” Demarco headed up the steps to Chicks office, the husky behind him.

“So,”

“Hm?” Brady’s eyebrow raised.

“Me and Benny are good friends, but he won’t tell us a thing about this person he’s seeing. If you can figure anything out let me and Curtie know.” John squeezed Brady’s shoulder again delivering a small shake.

So John is chronically nosy?

———————————

“Fancy seeing you here, we gotta stop running into each other like this.” Curt leaned against the open door of the ambulance.

“Hey, Curtie.” Ken looked up from where he was writing down his report, “Did you ask Bucky if we're still coming over for dinner?”

“Yes we are.”

“Awesome, I felt bad we had to leave right after the game.” Ken set his clipboard down standing up taking Curt’s hand then jumping out of the back of the ambulance.

“Yeah, the girls were all excited. I'm bringing them popsicles to Friday's practice, today we gotta lock in on fielding.” Ken smiled while watching Curt talk with his hands. He loved getting to coach Cordelia’s rec league softball team. Curt also stayed busy playing on the firehouses softball league Bucky coached. He didn’t play anymore only because he tore his ACL a few years back.

“I know I was so proud of them! You tell them I said that.” Ken placed his hand on Curt’s chest, “You’ve been working out?”

“Sure have sugar,” Curt pulled him in by the belt loops. He could stare at Curt all day and make this his full time job. Curt moved in with Ken a couple months ago and things had been going pretty well.

“Curt, what are you doing?” John furrowed his eyebrows coming around the truck.

“I was just saying hello to the wife,” Curt kissed Ken’s cheek, “See you at home, Kenny.”

“Bye Curtie, bye John.” Ken waved and shut the back doors of the ambulance.

“I saw you and Buck making out against one of the trucks the other day. So you got nothin’ on me, Johnny.” Curt shook his head walking after him.

“You know too much about me for me to become an enemy of Curtis Biddick. I was just coming to tell you we were leaving.”

It was true, when John dropped out of college halfway through his second year. He got in his car and started driving. He got to the Wisconsin/Minnesota border and decided to just keep going. Drove all the way to Casper, Wyoming in two days, decided to stop for a drink and then never looked back.

“I don’t want you as an enemy,” Curt shrugged his jacket back on as they got back to the truck.

“Good, because then I would have to kill you.” The two of them climbed back in the truck, “How’re you liking it, Brady?”

“I like it sir- uh, Bucky.” He cleared his throat and clasped his hands together looking down.

“Loosen up kid, I’m glad you like it.” John sat across from him.

“You’ve been doin’ a just fine job. I know you’ll fit right in.” Curt had seen a dozen or so of guys through their probie phases at the firehouse. He did in fact haze John after he convinced him to join the academy. John and Curt both saw Dougie and Ham through their probie period together. Brady seemed like a good kid and determined to become the best firefighter he can be.

————————

Gale: I’m on lunch, just thought I’d check in if you or Flynn needed anything from the store. If you make anything please clean it up so I don’t have to clean before making dinner. 🤗🤗

Cordelia: ok

Gale sighed, setting his phone back on the breakroom table stabbing a crispy piece of lettuce out of his salad. “I don’t like this tweenage thing.”

“Delia?” Rosie hummed through his bite of sandwich

“Yeah the other day she looked at me like I killed her cats because I asked her to help me pick up dinner.” Gale rubbed the bridge of his nose. He and John both had been coming to terms that Cordelia did not in fact hate them. She just wasn’t their little girl anymore and wanted more independence and they could respect that.

“Has the attitude started yet?” Croz could probably offer the best advice out of any of them. Their oldest was a couple years older than Cordelia, “The first time Astrid actually raised their voice at us we were so distraught.”

“A little bit,” Gale sat back in his seat rubbing at the gold band on his finger, “I’m beginning to think about bringing back timeouts for her too.”

“Sometimes it’s better to let them cool off in their room. I remember this age, hormones flying, your body changing, everything seems like the biggest deal of your life.” Croz definitely had the most confidence in his parenting out of the group. But I guess you do probably have to carry confidence with your words when you have four kids to wrangle around.

“I told my parents to shut up one time at that age…it did not go over well.” Gale could imagine a younger Rosie telling that to Mama Rosenthal. Followed by her most certainly chewing him out in Yiddish and sending him to his room.

It’s not that Gale is insecure about his parenting, it's that he doesn’t want to be like his father. He wasn’t like his father at all. It’s the one thing Gale brought up when they first talked about kids, “John, what if I turn into him?” “That’s not going to happen. You’re nothing like him, Gale.” John was right, Gale wasn’t his father. The apple didn’t even fall from that tree.

“It’s at least a little nice to hear that this is at least some right of passage event.” Gale cleared his throat. He didn’t really get a chance to have that, he grew up at far too young of an age. He had spent his entire childhood taking care of his father and avoiding the swinging hands that came at him. The rundown apartment in northern Casper, the cigarette burned couch with the cans and bottles littering any surface available. He knew his only way out and he took it and ran.

Now he had his own family, he had his firehouse family from John's side and he had Rosie and Croz from his side. He had to remind himself, he in fact is doing better than he ever thought he would.

————————

There’s a lot of things that are staples in the Cleven household. but the one that never missed was the barking every time someone was at the door. Scooby would jump up his loud howl carrying alerting Chili that maybe he needs to start barking too; although, his didn’t carry the same way Scoobys did.

“Guys!” Gale scolded the dogs from the kitchen.

“It’s us,” Ken sang as they came inside toeing off his shoes. His prized Apple pie in his hands, Curt not far behind him, “Hi Scooby.”

“Uncle Curt!” Flynn came flying out of the kitchen and jumped into his arms.

“Hey, Flynn.” Curt spun her around, “How was your ball game?”

“Good! I got a couple good hits! Papa said we could practice tomorrow.” Flynn quite literally fell from the John Egan tree though. Not only did she have the same blue eyes and dark brown curls but the same sass and humor. Oh yeah, and the lifelong passion for baseball but ‘specifically the yankees’.

“I’ll see if I have time to stop over and I can toss you some balls. Sounds good?”

“Yes! You’re the best Curt.” Flynn wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight.

“No you’re the best, Flynn. Why don’t we go help your dads set the table?”

Flynn nodded, Curt setting her down and she took off for the dining room attached to the kitchen.

“Delia, why don’t you take Ken with you to grab some drinks.” Gale nudged her from across the kitchen island.

“Okay,” she rolled her eyes with that sharp tone in her voice.

“I don’t like that attitude,” John popped his hip out resting his hands on his hips.

“I don’t like your attitude, Pa.”

Gale looked between the two of them having their nightly ‘drama queen competition’ as Flynn called it. Cordelia let out an irritated grunt stomping to the connecting door to the garage.

“Teenagers are fun,” Curt snickered.

Ken sat on the steps next to the fridge in the garage while Cordelia dug out the last can of Arnold Palmers for Curt.

“Is everything going alright, hun?”

“Yeah, it’s just, everything feels like…I don’t even know.” She handed the can of tea to Ken and shut the fridge door sitting back on her knees.

“That’s part of growing up, unfortunately. Do you wanna talk about anything?” At those words Cordelia looked down at her hands bashfully, a small smirk that resembled Gales following.

“Well, okay but you can’t tell dad and Pa.”

“Deal,” Ken rested his head in his hands.

“There’s this girl on my team, her name is Mel.”

“Does Curt know?” Ken interrupted her momentarily.

“No, we just started talking last week. She’s staying over with some of my other friends on Saturday.”

“I hope you have fun. But make good decisions,” Ken picked up the drinks off the steps next to him.

“Don’t worry, we haven’t even held hands yet. I can’t tell if pa would be upset that I’m dating or start crying?”

Ken let out a small chuckle, there's a good chance both could happen. Curt told him that when Cordelia had taken her first steps John broke down crying. He also cried when she turned one, he wasn’t ready for his little girl to be in such a rush to grow up still.

—-----------

John let out a loud yawn stretching his arms above his head, his shirt coming up just slightly. Gale leaned over, poking his stomach softly sending John into a loud laugh falling onto the bed right on top of Gale. “Did you have a good day at work?” Gale felt his cheeks heat red him and John were nose to nose.

“Yeah, we have a new probie at the station. Seems like a good kid. How about yours, Doctor Cleven ” John smiled because he knew exactly how to get Gale all flustered.

“Well, Captain Egan, I did have a good day. Today I found out Rosie went on a fourth date with that guy and he brought him to his apartment and let him meet Freddie.” He was pleased with himself that John's cheeks were now flush and he looked down slightly, just from calling him captain.

“Ooooh, do you know his name?.” John rolled off of him climbing under the blankets. He loved some good, who's dating who gossip? Someday he could be just as bad as Cordelia.

“No, that’s all he’s told us. We should find a time to go out and tell Rosie to bring him.”

“Good god, Buck. You’re just as bad as me and Delia!” Wrapping his arms around Gale he pulled him into his chest.

“Exposure therapy,” Buck giggles, turning his head to meet John's sparkly eyes. They laid there for a moment just basking in the energy of an amazing sixteen years together.

“Can you believe we’ve been married for ten years?” John rested his chin on Gale's shoulder, “Together for 16.”

“I know it’s gone so fast.” Gale tangled his hands into John’s pressing his back into John’s warmth.

“Next thing we know it’s going to be our 60th anniversary and Delia and Flynn are going to put us in a home.”

“Don't remind me,” Gale sighed, tipping his head back against John.

“At least we’re a long way from retirement?” John kissed Gales neck, truthfully he’d work forever if that’s what it took to keep this little life. He couldn’t imagine anything better than this, he was married to the absolute love of his life, “Well, maybe we should use my sexy firefighter body to our advantage.”

Gale mentally rolled his eyes with a smile on his face, John’s cheesy flirting never getting old. “I think that’s an excellent idea.”

——————

Thanks for reading!! Hope you enjoyed! Likes and reblogs highly appreciated! <3

[spanishskulduggery]

Baldur's Gate 3 - Non-binary Translation in Spanish

A while back I had mentioned that when I learned how to change language settings for Baldur's Gate 3, I was curious to learn how they would adapt the non-binary [no binario] option into Spanish since Spanish (like many Romance Languages) is very gendered

What I saw actually surprised me a bit

Usually in game translations with different genders, English tends to treat you as a "they" even though it's usually male or female; and in Spanish most of the lines are gendered, or phrased in a very ambiguous way in translation like speaking of your character as una persona "a person" rather than "he" or "she", or "they"

This is one of the first times I've seen the gender neutral -e endings used in an official setting

-

For the purposes of this, and any future posts on this, I decided I would try to play as a non-binary gnome cleric. I should also mention that when you start up the game in Spanish and you do the character customization, everything starts you with the base word (i.e. masculine by default, or possibly agender but looks masculine)... as in you can choose to be elfo "elf", semielfo "half-elf", humano "human", semiorco "half-orc"... choose between bárbaro "barbarian", mago "wizard", brujo "warlock" and so on

My default character creation screen read gnomo, clérigo for "gnome cleric"

But the way your character is addressed by others is what changes

The first NPC you interact with is "Us" a little brain thing you can choose to help. If you do it calls you "friend":

Nosotros: Somos libres. Tenemos nuestra libertad. amigue Us: We are free. We have our freedom. Friend [nb].

The word used is amigue

For the sake of understanding Spanish grammar, you probably know amigo/a "friend". The G here is a hard G. The gender neutral ending is E... but the combination of GE is pronounced like an H sound in Spanish [la gelatina "gelatin" for example is like "hel-a-ti-na"]. To preserve that hard G sound, you have to add a UE to it... so amigo/a becomes amigue for non-binary

[if you study Spanish this is the exact same grammar you'll see in turning -gar verbs into subjunctive forms; why pagar would turn to pague]

The next person you come across is Lae'zel:

Lae'zel: Tsk'va. No eres une sierve. ¡Vlaakith me bendijo en el día de hoy! Juntes, tal vez podamos sobrevivir. Lae'zel: Tsk'va. You are no thrall [nb]. Vlaakith blessed me today ["on this day of today"; emphatic]. Together [nb plural], we may (yet) survive.

Interestingly, there's first siervo/a meaning "servant" or "serf" or "thrall"

What I found very interesting was that you have une... un and una being "a" are used for indefinite articles; the non-binary form seems to be une

What threw me off though was seeing juntes... now junto/a is "together" [lit. "joined"] but juntes implies a non-binary plural.

I don't know if this is because in Spanish grammar it would imply that non-binary trumps feminine [the way amigos "friends" could be male+female or multiple male, as opposed to amigas "friends" being all female]... or if it's maybe an error or something else; the game treats Lae'zel as a woman in every other regard so I think it's the first one which is a situation I somehow hadn't considered. I had just assumed it would be juntos ...or juntas if you played female

Next I decided to rescue Gale first because he uses a lot of adjectives/professions and I wanted to see what they looked like:

Gale: No serás clérigue por casualidad, ¿verdad? ¿Médique? ¿Cirujane? ¿Increíblemente hábil con una aguja de tejer? Gale: You wouldn't happen to be a cleric, right? A doctor/medic? Surgeon? Unbelievably skilled with a knitting needle?

First is clérigo/a "cleric" being used in non-binary as clérigue. Similarly we have médique which is the non-binary médico/a for "medical doctor"

[just like above C turned to QUE to preserve a hard C/K sound; you'll see this with subjunctive and even preterites of -car verbs... why atacar "to attack" will turn to ataqué "I attacked" and ataque in subjunctive... because CE has a soft S sound in Latin America, and can be lisped in Spain]

And next is cirujane... the word cirujano/a is "surgeon"

Finally important note - hábil being "able" or "skilled" is a unisex adjective, so there is no change in any gender - masculine, feminine, or non-binary

*Note: I did miss it but at some point someone used the article le to describe my character. The el and la "the" are the masculine and feminine definite articles; le is non-binary "the" which still catches me by surprise because it looks French to me

-

I've been told since I made the original post that people have seen the non-binary E ending used in other things, but this was special for me to see. I'm curious how the other gendered languages available treated non-binary options

It was a fun surprise for me, especially for some modern day Spanish linguistics in a VERY big modern game, with non-binary word choices being heavily prominent. It's a bit of a learning experience for me

If I find any more fun examples of NB language being used I'll let y'all know as I go

[nebulablakemurphy]

Moves & Countermoves (Part 21)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

They try something new, in the form of Prim visiting Peeta with Y/N. Katniss and Haymitch watching from the viewing window. Things are going well…until they’re not. The news of Peeta’s family sends him spiraling. Yelling and cursing Katniss, saying it’s her fault that Snow bombed twelve. That she’s a threat. Telling Prim to kill her.

“Peeta, what you’re saying isn’t real.” Prim says, in a whisper. Withdrawing from the edge of his bed.

“She’s a monster, Prim!” Peeta insists, the angry vein pulsing in his neck.

“Peeta,” Y/N calls his attention back to her. “You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you, I’m here.”

“She’ll kill you too. She’ll kill all of us. She’s a mutt, the Capitol created to destroy us!”

Nothing settles him after that. The doctor has to use a tranquilizer for the first time in days.

Y/N excuses herself to the opposite side of the viewing glass. Catching Katniss’ gaze, holding it as she moves closer. “It’s good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?”

Katniss says nothing, catapulting herself into her mentor’s arms.

“I’m here,” Y/N assures her. “I’ll be here.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch escorts Katniss’ to the Nut in District Two. Y/N hangs back in Thirteen, with the kids and Peeta. Cashmere is sent to stand in for her best friend, which Katniss seems to appreciate, allowing her to weigh in on dialogue for the propo to sway the loyalists.

“Plutarch wrote a speech for you.” Haymitch tells Katniss, as they get into place near the tunnel left for civilians to escape, after the bombs were launched to bury the Nut and all the weapons inside.

The suggestion was Gale’s.

“Killing isn’t personal, Katniss. I figured you of all people would understand that.”

That’s what he told her the night before. Only she doesn’t agree, “killing is always personal.”

Cashmere takes the paper from his hands, reading it thoroughly. “She’s not saying this, they’ll tear her apart.”

“I never said it was a good speech,” Haymitch fires back. “Look, Katniss, you have to remember that you’re talking to everyone. Not just the people in the districts, but the Capitol, survivors from Two. You want them to lay their weapons down, so you might want to experiment with a little sensitivity.”

Katniss nods, though it isn’t her strong suit. “This is Katniss Everdeen, speaking to all the loyalists, from the heart of District Two-”

She is cut short by the train behind her, screeching to a halt.

Boggs wants to get her back, away from the tracks and the people who will soon emerge. But Katniss will hear none of it, especially after shots are fired. Ending up with a bullet in her own gear and unconscious all the way back to Thirteen.

Y/N finds them upon return. “What happened?” She asks Haymitch.

“Bruised ribs, bruised lung.” Haymitch runs a hand over his face. “It’s my fault. Shouldn’t have let her go.”

“Haymitch, you know there’s no way we could’ve stopped her.” Y/N sighs.

“No, but she’s more likely to listen to you than me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Y/N swallows.

“How are things? How are the kids?”

“They’re good, they missed you though.” I missed you.

“And Peeta?”

“They showed him the propo, he has real memories of Katniss.” The one’s the Capitol couldn’t taint because they didn’t own them. “He wants to see her.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Haymitch wonders, feeling his wife reach for his hand.

“I know he’s in there. We can’t give up, there has to be a way.”

“No one’s giving up,” Haymitch assures her. “When Katniss is cleared to leave medical, we’ll ask her to see him. Tell her that he wants to see her. I think that’s progress in itself.”

“Yeah,” Y/N nods.

“Come ‘ere.” Haymitch pulls her against his chest, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “We didn’t come this far, just to come this far.”

Again she nods, fisting the fabric of his uniform in her hands. Somehow he makes it hurt less.

No one could carry this burden alone, instead they learned to shoulder it together. To trade off when the other was weak, they learned to be two halves of a whole. Trying to pull away from that now seems impossible; excruciating at the very least.

Only when she is there, resting safely against his beating heart, Haymitch can breathe again. “I love you, Y/N.” More than you will ever know.

“I love you too.”

————————————————————————

Days pass, Finnick and Annie get married. It’s beautiful, everything they deserve. They’re glowing; so in love.

Daisy squeals her distaste during the ceremony, until Y/N manages to quiet her with milk.

“I hear ya, kid.” Johanna adds, under her breath.

At the reception everyone dances. Not Johanna. She doesn’t understand how these people can prance around while the world is going to shit. Brooding until little hands pull her to the dance floor. Everest and Arista Abernathy always do get the best of her. Just like everyone else, she was begrudgingly wrapped around their fingers from the day they met..

“Let me go.” Johanna finally demands, with a smile.

Cashmere is their next victim, any and all bystanders are fair game.

Katniss narrowly escapes; finding Johanna among the crowd.

“You saw Peeta, didn’t you?” The victor of District Seven asks. “Did you tell him hi for me? We’re old friends, you know. We had adjoining cells in the Capitol, we’re very familiar with each other’s screams.”

“I’m going to kill Snow.” Katniss says; her tone is cool, calculated. Watching Prim take Daisy from Y/N, so she too can join the crowd. She knows that if she dies, to end all of this, it will be worth it. Prim will have her mother and her former mentors to get her through. She would be taken care of. “Nothing good is safe while he’s alive, and I can’t make another speech about it. No more cameras, no more propos, no more games. He needs to see my eyes when I kill him.”

Johanna’s scowl tips up into a grin, “now you’re talking.”

“I need to find a way to the Capitol while everyone is looking the other way.”

“I hear the medics talking, they’re shipping supplies to the front lines from hanger two, around midnight tonight. Medicine, painkillers, I was gonna go steal some for myself, but I guess I could just stay here and cover for you.” Johanna turns to looks at her dead in the eyes. “Anyone can kill anyone, Katniss. Even a president. You just have to be willing to sacrifice yourself.”

————————————————————————

When Katniss disappears that night and crops up later with troops in the Capitol, Haymitch wishes he could say he’s surprised. But Katniss is who she is and he expects nothing less.

Coin can’t bring her back now. Instead she shoots for plan B, deploying the ‘star squad’ to join her. “It’ll be perfectly safe, you’ll be days behind the main troops. This is just to rally continued support and to document our journey to victory, spearheaded by familiar faces. I’d greatly appreciate if one or both of you could be there. Peeta is being deployed soon as well.”

“Peeta?” Y/N stammers, “Peeta can’t be anywhere near Katniss, let alone a war zone. There are too many triggers.”

“Dr. Aurelius has assured me that you’ve made leaps and bounds together, aiding in Peeta’s recovery. I’m sure that he would benefit from having you there.” President Coin gives Y/N a pointed look.

“I need to discuss this with Haymitch, in private.” Y/N insists, before her husband has a chance to wring the other woman’s necklace.

“Of course.” Alma nods, “I hate to spring this on you, but we are pressed for time. I’ll need your answer by tonight.”

Part 22

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly @misfits1a @nj01 @eruannaaa-blog

[forasecondtherewedwon]

seven degrees east - chapter one

Fandom: Masters of the Air Pairings: Gale x Bucky; Nash x Helen; more tbd Rating: T (may change) Chapter: 1 / ? Word Count: 3798

Summary: It's 1996. Soundgarden's on the radio, Charles and Diana are headed for divorce, and seven American PhD candidates are studying literature at the University of Thorpe Abbotts in Norfolk, England. Between taking Prof. Harding's summer class and obsessing over their favourite authors, the boys will kick asses when they must, and fall in love if they can.

Spring was about to fall headlong into summer and Bubbles had decided Princess Di was the woman for him. They were all in love with her. Tabloid magazine photos of Diana in black and lavender—torn with care along the crease—decorated the walls of their dorms, overlapping posters for Superunknown and Crimson Tide, pieces they’d had published in the literary journal, and mundane scraps of paper elevated by their status as vessels for the phone numbers of girls they’d met at parties. Naturally, their Princess took supremacy, especially as they expected imminent, official news of her divorce from Charles. Lucky Bubbles.

It was mid-June 1996. They spent their days horny and sunburnt from laying out on the school’s big English lawn. These long stretches of apparent leisure were punctuated by the summer course in which they were all enrolled: “Thoreau’s Walden,” taught by Professor Harding. He was transparently attempting to instill in them a sense of self-reliance alongside an understanding of transcendentalist thought. The class wasn’t mandatory—the rest of their cohort would rejoin them in September—but their small group comprised a brotherhood of dedicated scholars. (Dedicated to having fewer courses to take come fall semester.)

Bubbles was their Great American Novel man, obsessed with Faulkner’s long sentences and Steinbeck’s long books. Crosby envied and lionized his best friend’s focus, but had come to accept that he was irresistibly drawn to the lower-brow, femme-fatale charm of Chandler and Hammett’s hard-boiled novels. Robert “Rosie” Rosenthal was their resident 19th-centuryist, plotting the spread of both his dissertation and his mustache on the fertile—if possibly cursed—intellectual ground of Edgar Allan Poe. Herbert Nash was Rosie’s chronological compatriot. Though he’d begun the doctoral program with a proposed focus on the works of Mark Twain, he had a literary wandering eye for anything that struck him as romantic. In the face of Nash’s flakiness, Curt fought (sometimes physically) for the pure pleasure of reading, but then he was often under the hedonistic, lunar-like sway of Oscar Wilde—a deviation (guided, he claimed, by his Irish heritage) from the later, hedonistic influence of his preferred poison: the Beat Generation.

If their ragtag band of chronic dogear-ers had a leader, it should’ve been Jack Kidd. Kidd was an upper year student, nearly finished with his PhD (unless his PhD finished with him first). He was secretive, perpetually put-upon, and capable of delivering heart-shattering criticism in a tone that made it sound like mercy. In short, he was everything they longed to be. When asked about the subject of his dissertation, he would drop his face into his hands with all the enthusiasm and surrender to gravity of a bridge suicide. In lieu of possessing the middle-aged-divorcé jadedness that seemed to come naturally to Kidd despite his being only 29, the seven younger candidates had taken up smoking the preceding November.

Because they did need a leader to make sure they did things like readings and laundry and correcting their posture after hours spent curled over, under, and around the library’s long oak tables, they had Bucky. And they had Buck, because it was smart to have a backup. “Bucky” was really John, and “Buck” was Gale, and when any of the other five called them out on being pretentious fucks, they would both grin and offer no correction. While John directed his furrowed brow at Lost Generation titans like Hemingway, Stein, and Fitzgerald, Gale was dreamily engrossed in a fin-de-siècle love affair with Henry James. At any given time, at least three of them (including John) were waiting for the pair to realize that who they were actually head over heels for was each other.

They were all students at Thorpe Abbotts—the Norfolk satellite campus of the Connecticut university. They knew people studying Goethe and Voltaire, Tolstoy and Shakespeare and García Márquez, seriously, they did. They just happened to be a collection of Americans reading Americans. In England. For one reason and another, they’d decided to study overseas, intrigued by the allure of matched tuition fees, rainy reading weather, and the proximity to older and fancier universities, which were fun to visit if they were looking to instigate a winnable fight against other easily-provoked academics.

That particular evening, they descended upon a bar favoured by students from the University of East Anglia. John and Rosie had both offered to drive. To decide who’d had to go with John (concealed as who’d wanted to go with John), Crosby had flipped a coin—well, a double-sided Batman pog he’d produced with minor embarrassment after fishing around in his pocket for a coin. As a result, Gale and Curt tumbled from John’s Wrangler (Gale from the passenger’s seat, Curt from the bench in the rear) looking half-drunk already from John’s weaving, lead-footed panache behind the wheel. Rosie pulled up smoothly, with no complaints from Bubbles, who might not have complained even if they’d slid into the parking lot on their roof, Crosby, whose motion sickness had not been triggered, or Nash, who’d ironed a shirt for this outing in hopes of meeting a nice girl. The rest had openly teased him, then tried not to feel self-conscious about their own attire.

“You look like Hugh Grant,” John leveled at Nash when he saw him sweeping his hair back as they made for the bar.

“Thanks.”

“Wasn’t a compliment.”

Fortunately for Nash, he was impervious to most insults. John knew this and took it as licence to tease him all the more.

“Ladies love Hugh Grant,” Nash reasoned.

“Don’t say ladies,” Curt whined. “Fuck’s wrong with you?”

“The thing Hugh Grant has going for him is he’s British,” John explained.

“And he’s a movie star,” Gale offered, nonpartisan.

“Stellar addition, Buck: and he’s a movie star.” He turned back to Nash. “You’re non-movie-star, American Hugh Grant. Capisce?”

“Don’t say capisce.” Curt took out his frustration on the loose chunk of asphalt he booted across the parking lot.

“Ah, don’t listen to him, Nash,” Rosie instructed, slinging an arm around Nash’s neck and hauling him close so his steps stuttered and skipped.

“You look good, Nash,” Gale said.

“Like a real gentleman.”

“Too bad he’s just Nash disguised as a gentleman,” John lamented with a grin.

Nash cracked a telling smile.

“Whaddaya think, Croz?” John demanded. He looked around and found Crosby and Bubbles trailing them, laughing about something that was part of their own conversation. “Croz! Nash in disguise! This some kinda hard-boiled, sleazy villain shit?”

Crosby shrugged.

“Nash is Nash.”

“Nash is Nash,” Bubbles agreed, and then they were all saying it, speaking over one another, until their voices dropped into sync and it turned into a chant as they shoved into the warmth of the bar.

They fell into a booth together, then forced Crosby and Bubbles back out to get the first round since neither of them had driven and even if you tried to send one without the other, they’d both go anyway, as though attached by a tether. They returned with pitchers.

“Croz got carded,” Bubbles gleefully announced, handing out glasses from the stack in his hand.

Everyone awwwed. Crosby erupted in a flaming blush.

“Don’t worry about it, Croz,” Gale told him. Crosby nodded gratefully, but then Gale tacked on, “When I was your age—”

Crosby’s protestation that they were the same age had Rosie laughing until he had tears in his eyes. He tilted sideways into Nash, who did his best to scoot away.

“I love you Rosie, but I will slash your fucking tires if you wrinkle my shirt.”

This just made Rosie laugh harder.

“You alright to drive back?” John checked with Gale, leaning in to speak quietly below the hilarity.

“I gotcha, man.”

John nudged Crosby out of the booth a second time and came back with a pitcher of water for Gale, who’d smoke weed and cigarettes with the rest of them but drew the line at carbonation. Crosby’s hand hesitated between the pitchers of beer and water.

“I’ll drive,” Rosie assured him, brushing away Crosby’s wordless offer with a wave of his hand.

Crosby looked relieved to be let off the hook. He poured himself a beer.

John pointed at Rosie.

“You’re too damn self-sacrificing.”

“Maybe you’re too sac-selfrificing,” Curt countered, making John twist to face him with an expression of extreme indignation.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“You wanna take this outside?” John squared his shoulders. Even though it was all in play, Gale held out his hand, palm down, suggesting they chill out a little. They’d been bounced from this bar before.

“Might as well stay put,” Curt said. “If I knock you on your ass while you’re already sittin’ down, you got less far to fall.”

John smacked the brim of Curt’s ballcap down over his eyes and they broke into a scuffle in the booth, legs scrabbling beneath the table, Curt giggling wildly as he jerked away from John’s hands while protesting that he couldn’t see. Crosby, sitting on Curt’s other side, attempted to right his hat, but ended up having to dodge Curt’s elbow instead.

“Bets?” Rosie asked.

“What’s on the table?” Bubbles wondered. Somebody’s knee slammed the actual table from underneath and Bubbles’ hand shot out to steady his glass. “Figuratively.”

“Losers have to format the winners’ essay citations.”

“That’s not ba—”

Crosby saw Gale whack the back of his hand into Bubbles’ chest to shut him up, but it was too late. Rosie was grinning.

“And type up their essay.”

They groaned. Bubbles, Nash, and Crosby shook their heads, bowing out, but Gale stuck out his hand for Rosie to shake.

“You’re on,” he said.

“Who’s your money on?” Rosie asked.

“Who d’you think?” Nash cut in.

It really was silly to ask; Gale took John’s side in everything, always. Crosby was going to point that out, begin recalling supporting evidence, but John started fighting really dirty—his hands dove to Curt’s sides, tickling hard, and Curt hopped back. Crosby bailed out of the booth and stood.

“Maybe they should take it outside,” Bubbles observed, reading Crosby’s concern on his face before he could voice it.

Just then, there was a scoff: “Typical.”

John ceased his attack on Curt as they turned to look with the others. Curt fixed his hat. There were three guys standing there, just past Crosby, who took a step towards the table to show his allegiance. Like most people they encountered off the Thorpe Abbotts campus, the trio were British. They looked about their age, maybe a little younger, and enough sheets to the wind not to mind that there were fewer of them than members of the group they’d accosted.

The pause after that single word seemed to go on and on. None of the seven had a doubt in their mind that it was a criticism of their behaviour—their Americanness. The Brits would expect them to get angry, to fly from their booth and jab their impolite American fingers in their faces, wet American spittle spraying from their mouths as they shouted rude American words. They didn’t know that this was what these particular Americans did for fun. That even now, in the pause, they were just deciding how they wanted this one to go.

“Can we help you?” Gale asked calmly, while his compatriots wordlessly downed their drinks.

“We’re just fine,” one of them replied. “Try helping yourselves.”

Gale glanced around at his friends as though confused.

“Did one of you need help with something?” he asked.

Curt had just poured himself a second beer. He held up a finger, signally for everyone to wait as he took a long swallow. He sighed in satisfaction.

“I actually do need help,” he said, looking not at Gale but at the Brits.

“Want us to teach you to tie your shoes?” a different one taunted.

“Nah,” Curt said, tone dangerously placid to the ears of his friends. “Nah, got that one figured out. I actually got a question for you: loserssaywhat?”

The first one frowned, head cocking slightly.

“What?”

Rosie guffawed, prompting the change in the trio’s expressions: superior to insulted. Angry. But Curt was beaming. He took another swallow of beer before slowly enunciating, “Losers. Say. What.”

And then he burped so loudly that Crosby, recounting the story to Kidd later that night, would swear it shook the walls.

“That wasn’t part of the question,” Curt clarified.

The strangers surged towards the booth and Crosby got in their way, Bubbles and Gale jumping up too to put a wall between them and Curt.

Gale said one word to them, and he said it like an order: “Outside.”

“Fucking right, outside,” was thrown back at him.

The three on their feet watched the Brits out the door, then turned back to the group.

“Who’s holding down the fort?” John asked.

“Not me,” Curt said. He clambered from the booth and started shadow boxing. As he ducked and wove, eyes fixed on an invisible opponent, John spun his hat around, brim at the back.

“Let’s all go,” Nash said from his spot against the wall. “Nobody’s gonna…”

He trailed off as his gaze landed on something beyond their prizefighting trickster, beyond the inseparable Bubbles and Crosby, beyond the deep-running still waters of Gale. There was a girl. A beautiful girl. Thick, dark hair, talking with another girl Nash barely noticed. As he watched, she laughed. She was even more beautiful when she laughed.

“Actually, I’ll stay,” he amended distractedly. He tilted his head to see around Curt as Curt decided to add footwork to his routine. “The rest of you can fuck off.”

Rosie looked where Nash was looking and smirked.

“Ah, no way, buddy. Wouldn’t leave you here all alone!”

“No more than three of us can go,” John declared. “It’s not…”

“Sportsmanlike,” Gale supplied.

John snapped his fingers and agreed, “Sportsmanlike.”

“I guess it’s you three then,” Bubbles deduced glumly, glancing between John, Gale, and Curt.

“Sure is,” John said, considerably more gleeful. He rose and clapped Bubbles on the shoulder. “Hang tight.”

“But—”

“If you go, Croz’ll come too, and we can’t go five-against-three; they’ll think we’re chickenshits.”

“Who cares about their opinion?” Crosby wanted to know.

“Me,” Curt said. He stuck out his lower lip in a pout. “They hurt my feelings.”

Crosby rolled his eyes.

“Get the fuck outta here.”

“Yeah, and do us proud!” Rosie shouted at their backs as Gale, Curt, and John trekked towards the exit. John pumped his fist into the air.

When they’d gone, Rosie smiled slyly at Nash.

“So. Are we calling her over here?”

“What?”

“YO!” Rosie yelped at the top of his lungs.

The girl, her friend, and a dozen other people in the crowded bar turned their heads, searching for the source of the sound.

“What the hell?!” Nash blurted.

Rosie frowned at him.

“You think she’s pretty, right?”

“Duh. Look at her—”

“MY FRIEND THINKS YOU’RE PRETTY! YEAH, YOU! BLUE SHIRT!”

“If I wanted her to think I was a total jackass—” Nash began.

“You’ll get your chance. I just got you started. Wave her over.”

“You ever think there’s a reason you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Nash slid along the seat until he was free of them all, though Crosby did offer an encouraging thumbs-up.

“Watch and learn,” he called over his shoulder. He locked eyes with the girl—the beautiful girl, who was miraculously staring back at him with an expression of amusement rather than scorn—as he headed her way.

—

Outside, the tension was thickening. The Brits should’ve gotten some kind of points for holding their ground, John thought, because they looked nervous now that he, Gale, and Curt were all on their feet, not folded up in that booth. He lifted his chin and squared his shoulders to make himself as big as possible. And he smiled, not as massive as Curt though. That seemed to be pissing them off, maybe making them stay: that Curt was full-on grinning.

“Thorpe Abbott?” the mouthiest of the three asked, like an accusation.

“Abbotts, numb nuts,” Curt corrected.

“What do they grade you with there? Scratch-and-sniff stickers?”

“I wish!” John said. There was a threatening gleam in his eyes.

“You know it doesn’t mean anything when they give you all hundreds right? Your degrees don’t mean shit.”

“It actually does mean something,” Curt said. He suddenly sounded so serious that his friends looked at him from the corner of their eyes. “We go in this special room, ’k? Maybe not so fancy as the rooms at wherever you boys go—”

“East Anglia,” was offered.

Curt nodded.

“Yep, Easy Anglia, whatever. But we go in this room and then—true story—this woman shows up. Like, our dean calls her up to let her know another one of us special boys—”

“Us special American boys,” Gale emphasized.

“—got himself another fuckin’ hundred. Takes her maybe half an hour to show up. And then, guess what, you guys?” Curt looked at the befuddled Brits eagerly. “She blows us.”

Their reaction was a blend of highly skeptical and stunned by the turn Curt’s story had taken. Shit’s sake, Curt, John was thinking. This is gonna be a hell of a fight.

“And, you know, she did mention she had a son,” Curt said measuredly, homing in on the mouthy guy now, “but, damn, you’re her spittin’ fuckin’ image.”

The Brits lunged at them.

—

Nash wanted to ask her to dance, to hold her by the hips and sway along to whatever rhythm she chose. He didn’t care if it didn’t match the beat of the music. He didn’t care that no one else was dancing, or that this wasn’t really a place where people did that. “Helen,” she’d said her name was.

“You read much?” he asked stupidly, but he wanted her to like him more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life. More than anyone in the history of humankind had ever even dreamed their descendants could want. The only thing he could think to talk about was books. Talking about books, he could start to sound smart again, reassemble his brain in the background while most of him got lost in Helen’s eyes.

“Yes.”

Nash loved how she said yes. His heart, thumping happily in his chest loved it. The rush of blood to his groin loved it. The sound of “yes” in her mouth. She was American. He tried not to think how easy it would be, the two of them moving back home after school. Or staying here, a pair of expats. Whatever she’d prefer.

“I’m actually studying creative writing.”

“Where?” he asked, starry-eyed.

Her eyes darted to her friend before returning to his face. The reaction said he was being sort of stupid now, but then her expression shifted to something like guilt. She’d felt bad for thinking it. for writing him off so quickly.

“At the University of East Anglia.”

“Oh. So, like, right nearby.”

“Right nearby,” she confirmed. “Hence…” She glanced around. Hence this bar. Hence. Totally. Nash gave her a smile, weak with adoration.

“Why there?” he asked.

“Kazuo Ishiguro studied there. I admire his work.”

“I loved The Remains of the Day.”

Helen smiled at him. The clouds parted. Probably.

“Me too,” she said. “Are you in the arts as well?”

“English,” he told her. “Thorpe Abbotts. Working on my PhD.”

She was sufficiently engaged now that her friend moved off, giving them space.

“What’s your field?”

“American,” he admitted, and she got it, and she laughed. An American studying Americans in England. He shrugged, embracing her reaction.

“Who do you like?”

You. But she’d meant which authors.

“Twain,” Nash said, “and Hawthorne.”

Helen’s eyes lit up.

“Yes! My greatest influences are second-wave. You know, Betty Friedan, Gloria Steinem’s exposé on the Playboy Club, obviously…”

“Well, sure,” Nash said, just keeping up as she spoke in an impassioned rush.

“But I love the early feminists too. Hawthorne and Charlotte Perkins Gilman and Alcott.”

“Little Women!”

“It’s probably still my favourite novel of all time.”

For the first time, Nash took a careful, calculated pause, and he gave her a look. A Nash look. It was a look that usually communicated let’s get out of here, but this time, he wanted more. He’d worn the shirt.

“I’ve never met anybody who was as much of a Jo as you are,” he said, meaning it.

It was noisy, but he heard Helen’s pleased gasp. That she was actually an Amy was something Helen had not yet admitted to herself, and so Nash’s compliment hit its target with full effect. He watched as her lips parted—to thank him? to kiss him? to say some other unforeseen thing that would change his life even further? make him feel the earth move under his feet? did she like Carole King?—but there was a hard tug on his elbow.

Nash turned to find Bubbles standing there. He was the one person Nash wouldn’t snap at for interrupting, and the others knew that. He’d been sent.

“I am so sorry,” Bubbles said, addressing Helen. He was beginning to slur his S’s. “I gotta steal him back for a minute.”

“I swear my friends don’t speak for me,” Nash said as Bubbles physically dragged him away from the conversation. “I know it’s happened twice now, but they don’t!”

Was it worth it, to be removed from Helen’s side and brought back to the booth? Nash was surprised to feel that it almost was—almost—when his eyes landed on their smiling trio of champions. Gale had a cut on his cheek where a fist must’ve connected, or at least glanced off; John had the dark promise of a bruise below one eye; and Curt didn’t have a scratch on him. Nash laughed, shaking his head.

“What was he tryin’ to say though?” John was asking.

“Mumbling some shit about our hundreds,” Gale replied. “Our ‘bloody hundreds.’”

“Yeah,” Curt said. “But it was after I’d clocked him square in the mouth. That’s why he was lispin’. ‘Bloody hundredth,’ it sounded like.” He chuckled. “Bloody hundredth.”

“To the Bloody Hundredth,” Crosby proposed, raising his beer.

Rosie passed Nash his refilled glass, then lifted his own for the toast.

“Bloody Hundredth,” the rest of them intoned.

“And to Princess Diana,” Bubbles’ voice rang out when the rest of them had a glass to their lips. “Wherever she may be tonight.”

Crosby adopted an expression of deep solemnity, but Rosie ruined it by snorting into his water.

“Alright, men,” John addressed them. “Back into the booth. We got some fuckin’ drinking to do.”

“Spoken like a true Hemingway scholar,” Gale observed.

John gave him an affectionate smile.

“I try.”

[thelonelyrainbowguy]

So I finished Gregor and the Code of Claw and hi, I’m bawling. Suzanne Collins apparently didn’t start writing shocking deaths in the name of pointing out the pointlessness and horror of war with Prim in The Hunger Games—she started it with a BAT in her MIDDLE GRADE SERIES which really should be PG-13 at LEAST because GODDAMN.

I think Ares’ death hurt more than Prim’s because he dealt with so much hate after book 1, he was such an outcast even after all he had done to help the Underlanders, but had found love and devotion with Gregor, who brought him back into the family, as it were.

After all the hate and mistrust he’d dealt with, after betraying his longtime bond who he’d sworn to protect with his life in order to do the right thing and save Gregor, after illness and grief and countless injuries, he was still persevering, and finally being accepted back into Underland society. After the training that made him a better fighter with less chance of injury. After the hope Ripred provided by saying the prophecies were bullshit. Just when we were rooting so hard for him and for Gregor, when we thought things might turn out okay—he was cut down in one swift stroke (er, bite). No last words. No ceremony. Just gone.

(And don’t get me started on his claw clutched in Gregor’s unconscious hand in their bond gesture so tight that the fireflies had to CHEW IT OFF OF ARES in order to rescue Gregor. I’m gonna cry again.)

Whereas with Prim, from the very beginning, she was foreshadowed to die. We were constantly worried about her, then relieved when we found out she was okay, time after time. Narrow escape after narrow escape. When she was Reaped, when 12 was bombed, when 13 was under attack.

We even had the scene with Gale describing how his bomb scheme worked—first bomb, the medics rush in to help the wounded, second bomb. And we knew Prim was a medic. It was repeated so many times throughout Catching Fire and Mockingjay. Her taking over Gale’s treatment after the whipping post. Her helping care for Katniss after Catching Fire. In the bunker, telling Katniss she was in training to be a doctor.

Her death was heartbreaking, and felt like pointless shock value at first if you weren’t really looking ahead, but when you dissect the story so far and the morals that Collins was trying to drive home, it makes a horrible kind of sense.

(don’t @ me if I got some Hunger Games stuff wrong—I’ve watched the movies plenty of times, but I’ve only read the books once, soon after the first movie came out.)

[recitedemise]

MODERN VERSE. (the number of worlds as infinite are as the cosmos.) Gale Dekarios, hailing from Waterdeep (or England, all Greek heritage if it's rooted in reality), is a professor with a doctorate in illusionary magics (or, if magic isn't real, then astrophysics) in the University of Baldur's Gate (or Berkeley). He's incredibly decorated, a prodigy in his field turned a credited pillar in the realm of academia. Gale is of accomplishment, a recognized voice among his peers, and that, as rumors claim, is for his relationship with Mystra, the department head of magic (or the natural sciences) of the university where he currently teaches. Unbeknownst to most everyone, Mystra had first met Gale during his last year in further education taking some pre-college courses. At the time, an impressionable, bright-eyed eighteen year old, his grades, resume, and notable accomplishments had very unfortunately caught her interest. There, Mystra lent her aid, offering to tutor and mentor him to entice him to join the University. Of course, being an academic with no small amount of renown, the offers she presented weren't at all necessary; Gale, ensnared, was thoroughly convinced. From there, he pursued his degree under her very close supervision. One thing led to another, and a very unprofessional relationship cropped up between them, but considering the nature of said unprofessional relationship, no one, not a person, knew of the pair. Still, Gale was in love. Gale thought his love was returned. But during a project Mystra had forbade him to pursue, Gale, over-confident, had erred considerably, and for his troubles, found the netherese orb. Panicked, Gale went to Mystra, cursed tome held feverishly in his hands. Mystra, with cold eyes, told him she'd very plainly warned him, and without a care in the world, she took the book from his grasp, ended their relationship, and barred his growth. Now, Gale is chronically in pain, a deep throb pulsing around a cruelly-grooved chest. Mystra, of course, knows how to balm his ailment, but she very much believes one must live with their mistakes--and so, Gale, disillusioned, is left remarkably alone. He's living alone again. And his projects have been pulled. In fact, he's now no longer allowed to teach any field beyond illusion, and in the lowest point in his life, Gale is worn threadbare as anything, frustrated, confused, and incredibly stressed. Sensing a hostility between them, even the faculty can't help but to give their laughter. Now, they ask him where he'd scurry off to if not for Mystra's coat tails. Between that or the looks of passing sympathy, to be honest, Gale can't say which he hates more.

In a world without magic, the netherese orb isn't there to hurt him. Instead, Mystra breaks things off for his unauthorized research, something she calls a clear demonstration of his blatant disrespect. He has no book, and he has no magical ailment eating at his nerves. Rather, he'd rushed out of their then-shared home, clamoring into his car when she ordered him to leave. Utterly distraught and thoroughly distressed, it was shortly after this that Gale found himself struck by an inebriated driver, both glass and warped steel gnarling his chest. After some weeks, he'd recovered, of course, but not without a terrible scar above his sternum. Hurt flashes from it often, something in the manner of a phantom pain, and though finally recovered, Mystra's still barred him from progressing in his field. In fact, she'd not visited him once. Gale feels that keenly.

[gerhardtz]

📌 WELCOME!

I'm Josh (He/Him/His). I'm an artist & fanfiction writer from Cornwall. Currently hyperfixated on FX Fargo Season 2 & Doctor Who.

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One Hour Ahead Of The Possee - Chapter 4: 1973 Ford F-150 (5.2K words)

As his senses returned to him, so did his fear. He looked around. The room was small and empty of people, but the muffled chatter of a radio coming from an open door not too far away led him to believe he wasn’t alone.

I often post about:

My OCs; Operation Amarillo, Efica, and FLY HIGH

FX Fargo (2014—)

Classic cars

Sekiro: Shadows Die Twice

Doctor Who (2005—)

Sonic The Hedgehog

Half Life / HLVRAI

Warrior Cats

BBC Line of Duty (2012-2021)

Lie To Me (2009-2011)

Pikmin

Feel free to send me any asks/messages, or reblog my posts with comments. I love talking to the people in my computer.

DISCLAIMER: I reclaim and identify with the words faggot and queer. If this makes you uncomfortable, my blog is probably not for you!

You can follow me on my art blog @wenmistry for fanart and OCs.

FANFIC MASTERLIST

All of my Fargo fics in one place, with warnings and links to AO3. Characters listed on masterpost truncated for brevity. When I start writing for other fandoms, I'll make my masterlist a separate post.

Multi-Chapter:

One Hour Ahead of the Possee | 4/? | 9,375 words

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: Gen Characters: Rye Gerhardt, Mike Milligan, Floyd Gerhardt, Simone Gerhardt, Peggy Blumquist, Gale Kitchen.

Rye is injured and on the run. His conversation with Judge Mundt couldn't have gone any worse... and in his inebriated state, he decided to flee the scene on foot – leaving his car behind. It's not a question of *if* he's found out, but when.

Drop It, Doe Eyes | 1/? | 2,402 words

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death Category: M/M Relationships: Rye Gerhardt/Original Male Character(s) Characters: Original Male Character(s), Rye Gerhardt

Jethro Sprang was always drawn to the Gerhardts, ever since he was saved from a bully by their youngest when he was ten. He didn't expect that, fourteen years later, he'd be saved by that boy yet again. This time, from the Gerhardts themselves, as he found himself in a dark alleyway, drenched in someone else's blood.

Lifespring | 1/? | 1,115 words - ON HIATUS

Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: F/F Relationships: Peggy Blumquist/Constance Heck Characters: Peggy Blumquist, Constance Heck

Waiting in the ER after an accident on ice patch junction, Peggy strikes up conversation with a mysterious drifter, who seems to be dead set on changing her life... for better or for worse.

Oneshots:

Dead Boys | 3,167 words

Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Characters: Simone Gerhardt, Rye Gerhardt, Dodd Gerhardt, Floyd Gerhardt, Otto Gerhardt, Hanzee Dent

On the anniversary of Elron’s death, the Gerhardts hold a family dinner in his honour. It doesn’t quite go to plan, as conflicting opinions on war, the world, and who should be sat at that table, lead to a heated argument.

A Promise Made In Blood | 1,757 words

Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Category: Gen Characters: Original Male Character(s), Ollie Stein, Virgil Bauer

In the harsh Winter of 1973, an important deal goes horribly wrong. Someone has to pay the price, but Dodd's way of delivering it rubs Blake the wrong way. It's no real promise at all, if it's made in blood, but he knew the Gerhardts would disagree.

Managing Up | 1,324 words

Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Relationships: Bear Gerhardt/Ricky G Characters: Ricky G, Bear Gerhardt

Fending off Kansas City comes first, emotions come later – that's Bear's plan. But all Ricky wants is for Bear to talk to him.

Head In A Bag | 1,330 words

Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: Gen Characters: Mike Milligan, Hanzee Dent, Gale Kitchen

Hanzee pays Mike a visit at the Pearl Hotel and delivers an ominous message.

and all the ships at sea... | 715 words

Rating: General Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Category: F/M Relationships: Betsy Solverson/Lou Solverson Characters: Lou Solverson, Betsy Solverson (Mentioned), Molly Solverson, Karl Weathers, Sonny Greer

After years of fighting, Betsy eventually succumbs to cancer. Now, Lou is left to pick up the pieces and figure out where to go next.

To Places Man Can Never Dream | 1,175 words

Rating: Teen Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Category: Gen Characters: Hanzee Dent, Rye Gerhardt (Mentioned)

Hanzee parked his car at 7:07. He drove off at 9:10. He’d been there twenty minutes at most.

[fatalelity]

oh yeah here's tav! addison (or as i like to say ... taddie. bc haha tadpole .... okay bye)

basic rundown ( spoilers for act i mainly ) :

she was born to a dynasty of surgeons, doctors, spellcasters etc in baldur's gate

she's a medical doctor — trained surgeon to be precise, but god she is not a cleric and will go on a 'not all doctors are clerics fuck you' rant

a lover of wine, literature, and just having a good time mostly

she's a pacifist at heart so you can imagine how she feels with what happened to the goblins (yes, my party's on permanent knock ppl out mode)

oh on that note, she became an accidental necromancer... hahaha

being a variation of tav, she's special in the way that she has an innate ability to turn back time (never forward) — if you're familiar at all with "reset theories" this is what i'm going for. for those who don't know, the tldr is that she will remember every event that happens even if she goes to another spot in time (aka reloading a save state). she can't will it to happen. it triggers upon intense emotional responses. it's only been triggered twice in game. it'll take a toll on her and she won't be able to rest for at least two nights

so, that being said she is a sorcerer!

her main party at the moment are with shadowheart, karlach, and gale

she's definitely polyamorous. she has intense feelings for both shadowheart and gale, which is one of the points in the timeline that fucks her up the most

she really does like karlach, but probably wouldn't try to pursue a romance or whatever with her. they vibe. they get angry together. it's fun /*shrugs*

ACT ONE.

she accidentally got lae'zel killed by the tieflings who held her captive — she thought they'd leave the other in her hands but alas. they went into battle, rolled initiative and she wasn't fast enough to stop people... she still feels horrible about it

she's spurred events that lead to the druids attacking the tieflings twice — those were her two resets. she still feels guilty about it, even though the current timeline they are fine... mostly

needless to say, she did not side with the goblins. whilst she actively tried not to kill them, it's hard not to when you use magic and your self preservation instincts kick in

she didn't actually kill minthara, knocked her out real good and hoped she lived

she consumed a tadpole once and that was that

got beef with astarion, tbh they probably would've had hate sex or something idk man. it's a weird relationship she's either being really nice to him or roasting him alive

actively trying to get shadowheart the fuck outta sharran but like, won't judge her for her faith bc it's all she's got since her memories are literally taken away

she's learned to lie real well since travelling with the cohort

scratch, owlbear, arabella, plus mol's gang are her kids. do not fuck with them. i'm serious. she almost killed kagha during the first reset because of it.

unfortunately due to her being single minded of wanting to get the gang to baldurs gate and find answers, unless she sees your suffering, gets lost herself, and/or its something related to her personally she will not engage in the side quests

that being said, they did spend some time in the underdark but very briefly because they got lost and ended back in the camp

so instead, she opts to go through the mountain pass but again got lost and ran into ethel

she accidentally uses necromancy to make mayrina's husband er ... undead. needless to say she feels like a sack of shit for doing that and wants to undo it but this is ultimately mayrinas choice so she let's them be

since on the topic of necromancy, she does still have that cursed necromancy of thay book in possession. no idea what to do with it but yknow, it's not an active problem

in the mountain pass she will not make a detour to the creche, she will go straight to the shadow cursed lands

ACT TWO.

shes actively trying to not have gale go blow himself up... desperately.

there's some strain between her and the others minus karlach, her mvp ... the fires of avernus can sure be comforting in moments that feel so cold to her

I will say this : the decisions she makes here are NOT good. at this point she's mostly focused on keeping everyone alive and kinda forgot about the fact that halsin is Here to lift the curse

she follows kar'niss, does the whole cutscene at moonrise tower and reluctantly agrees to help balthazaar

she goes into his room and er, let's just say her party (NOT HER) took more than just the moonlantern

she will get lost because she's a rich girl from baldurs gate who never learned how to USE a compass ... anyways, let's say she does not go to the mausoleum first and ends up trekking backwards ....

before reaching last light inn, she meets the boy Oliver and plays only one round of hide n seek with him because she has a mission and that triggered the scene where she had to fight his family and pissed him off so royally that it locked her outta lifting the curse. oops. she doesn't know that though ...

when she finds dammon she will actually make the detour to find karlach her metal. she adores karlach. she wants her to live. she wants to give her a real hug.

during said metal excursion er .... let's say she finds her way into the house of healing and she found arabella's parents before arabella herself... the house of healing was where she did her first act of mercy killings outta the many

arabella obviously will stay in camp and tbh, she has this gnawing feeling so she looks around to see if there are any other surviving tieflings (there were not, she was distraught and during long rests the more restless companions can hear her cry in the corner)

i know she said no detours but she saw a night orchid by the cliff and HAD TO get it for shadowheart because God she would kill for some joy — shadowhearts little reaction / joke made her smile for the first time very sincerely

anyways, she finally finds their way into the mausoleum and ahahaha .... hahaha ....

the gauntlet of shar was probably one of the most painful things to witness shadowheart go through. she did not like it and in fact at some point she takes over and sacrifices her own blood

she ignores raphaels entire request lmao

uhm, I'd say what she did with balthazaar was er ... some misty steps, and she pushed him off a cliff out of self preservation

taps into shadowhearts goodness and let her lean into her own intuition which resulted in aylin being spared

after shadowhearts been exiled, she will literally do whatever means to comfort her oh dear God

jaheira does die in moonrise tower ... she feels like shit about it (lol what's new)

anyways, the big boss battle happens and they make their road to baldurs gate

ACT THREE.

say no to evolution god please. she hates the emperor and will do things to piss him off such as steal from the house of hope

she completes companion events in this order (as of now): shadowheart, astarion, karlach, wyll, gale

she didn't actively encourage shadowheart to kill her parents but shadowheart did; she DID actively encourage astarion to not ascend and free the spawns ... oops. monster hunters hate her so much rn

she's deeply tormented by orin. like i mean deeply. she's in despair. she wants it to stop so bad.

obviously she chooses aylin and isobel over some wizard in a tower

she wants to fist fight shar and mystra. so bad. she may be a healer but *cocks gun*

i will add more to this and then write a cohesive page as the game progresses here lol

[awellboiledicicle]

I will give this distressed face a pass, given we just learned Wyll's father has been kidnapped by whatever a drow is. Hawke isn't sure, but for all he knows it's a darkspawn.

"They're elves, but from underground."

"So darkspawn ARE here--"

"No, they're not... sick, in the usual sense. Just very sensitive to light and come from under the ground. Think caves."

"So.... they're dwarves?"

"No, dwarves can be from anywhere. The dwarves in the underdark are called Duegar, however."

"..... Gale, I'm very much starting to think you're fucking with me."

"I-- er, no. I'm being quite serious."

Meanwhile Anders is just in the distance, trying to have calming breaths. Because Hawke just barreled into a fucking burning building, got blown across a room opening a door and then hauled a man out from under rubble AFTER saving another person. All after essentially telling everyone else to stay outside aside Karlach. Normally this would be just another layer of Hawke being Hawke, but add in the fact they're out of rests, everyone's hurt as hell from fighting Gnolls including him and you get a very stressed feathermage.

AKA the second Hawke's done talking to Wyll Anders is putting his foot down and demanding they make camp so they don't all keel over and die on him. Wyll half protests before Anders just raises an eyebrow and looks at the gashes along his side and back to his face.

"Point taken. Rest, doctors orders..."

If mizora shows up on this next rest Anders might kill her himself for fucking up Wyll's stitches.

[benefits1986]

Headsarte Draft 001

Ext. Intramuros at Night, Full Moon, Starry Night na mala-Vincent Van Gogh Trippy Mode (Sepia-ish pero may kulay pa rin siyang saks na sapul pa)

1: TMI mo noh? 2: Ikaw rin, TMI. 1: Magaling ako ngayon pero dati hindi. 'Yung gusto ko nga na school, 'di ako nakapasa e. Pero ngayon, eto na ako. 1: Aywaw. Bebentahan mo ba ako ng insurance or lupa? Maka-profile ng sarili mo, akala mo may final interview ka diyan. 2: Ay, hindi kita bebentahan. Sinasabi ko lang sa'yo. 1: 'Di rin kita bibilhan if ever. Mayaman ka na e. 2: Kelangan pang mas mag-hustle forda future family. 1: May ganun? Ayaw talagang bumitaw. Bakit ba gusto mong mag-family? 'Di ka ba mahal ng mama mo? Question 'yan a. 'Di ako nangaasar. 2: Favorite ako ng mga pamangkin ko. Saka gusto kong may kasama sa buhay. Pero alam mo ba? May nangyari sa family ko? 1: Ano 'yan? Pang-MMK? 2: Nung burol ng erpat ko, may bumisita. 'Di pala kami only family. Nalaman lang namin nung wala na si papa. 1: Jusko, dhzai. Ano ba 'yan? Naka move on ka naman na? 2: Oo naman. Para kay mama. 1: Ang lala mo. So, ikaw, loyal ka ba? 2: Oo naman. Ikaw ba? 1: Wow. Confident ka talaga noh? When last relationship mo? Ako sobrang tagal na. 2: More than 3 years ago. 1: Hindi ka serial monogamist? 2: Ano 'yun? 1: Hayyy. Bakit 'di mo alam 'yun? 2: Joke lang. Alam ko 'yun. Akala mo naman ikaw lang maraming alam. Hindi ako serial monogamist. Ilan pa lang naging jowa ko. Ikaw? 1: Ah. Onti lang din. 2: Weh? 1: O, e 'di bahala ka. Mas marunong ka pa sa akin. Nakipag-live in pa nga ako e. Hahahaha. Giba 'di ba? Matagal-tagal din 'yun pero olats din ending.

2: Bakit 'di kasal? Bakit live in? 1: Wala naman sa kasal 'yan or 'di kasal e. 2: Iba pa rin 'pag may papel lalo 'pag may mga bata. 1: Wawawawiiii. Purist? 2: 'Di naman. Dun lang tayo sa malinis at walang mintis. 1: Scarrie Bradshaw na ba me? LOL. ULOL. 2: May TOTGA ka? 1: What the fuck is that question? 2: 'Di mo alam 'yung TOTGA? 1: Alam ko. Syempre meron, matanda na ako. Pero pinili ko kasi magalaga ng nanay ko. Ayun muna inuna ko para full gear na, full force pa. 'Di ko mag-sabay ng dalawang major-major tasks sa life e. EME. 2: Ako rin meron. 1: Namiss mo TOTGA mo right now? 2: Hindi. Tapos na 'yun. Matanda na rin ako e. 1: Alam mo, tumigil ka na. Mga tanong mo noh, nakakainis. 2: Ayaw mo nga ng kids? Seryoso? 1: 'Di ko ayaw. Pagod na pagod lang akong mag-alaga ng mga tao sa mundong ibabaw. 'Yun lang talaga. 2: Ako, sakitin ako saka hypochondriac ako, pero, sinusugod ko sarili ko sa ER. Independent ako e. Saka may isang health issue ako na 'di maexplain ng mga doctors pero wala akong maint. Galing ko noh? 1: Makalapag ng red flag, wagas. Ayus. Salamat na lang. God bless. Kaya mo na sarili mo. Independent ka nga kasi, 'di ba? Tapos gusto mo ng kids noh? Iba rin. 2: Alam ko kasing kaya ko saka gusto ko talaga pero puwede namang wala. Depende sa usapan 'yan. 1: May negotiable contracts eme nalalaman? Baka nanguuto ka lang. 2: Bakit? Magpapauto ka ba? 1: Bakit ako? Magahanap ka ng bata as in bata na pak. Mas marketable ka ngayon because the vibe is giving daddy vibes all over. Mabenta ka sa market na alam na this. Kahit maka-limang anak ka pa. Puwedeng-puwede.

2: Huy. Gusto ko mature e. Pang mature roles. 1: Hayup ka. Kaka-Vivamax mo 'yan. 2: Ano 'yung Vivamax? 1: 'Di ba magaling ka? 2: Ano nga 'yung Vivamax? 1: Alam mo 'yung Tiktik saka Abante Tonight na may komiks section? 2: Inquirer lang meron sa bahay naman saka Panorama. 1: Hay. Jusko. 'Wag ako. Kadire reference. 2: Batang 90s. Born in the 80s tayo. Gets na gets mo nga e. 1: I hate you. Umiinit ulo ko sa'yo. Kanina ka pa. 2: 'Di halata sa'yo. Daldal mo e. 1: Ah, madaldal talaga ako kahit kanino. 'Wag kang feeling. Ikaw? Wala kang makausap? Socially awkward ka ba kaya ka ganyan? 2: Hindi naman. Mapili lang sa kausap. Sayang oras e. 1: Eto, sayang oras 'to. 2: Hindi naman sa tingin ko.

1: So, LS? Why or why not? 2: Depende sa'yo yan. Ano bang gusto mo? 1: Worth it ba sa estado ng justice system sa bansang patuloy nating pinipili in pink with blazing blue? 2: 'Di ko alam sagot diyan. Everything is subjective e. 1: Deep 'yan? 'Di nga? 2: Oks naman LS pero depende 'yan sa gusto mong ma-achieve saka dun sa gusto mong school, 'wag ka na dun kasi 'yung board member dun ay si ___. 1: True. Kadire talaga. As in. Ikaw anong plano mo? 2: Etong bagong program. Check ko lang sched. 1: Bakit 'yan gusto mo? In fairness, ganda ng track. 2: Para yumaman. 1: Mayaman ka na e. 2: Mas mayaman pa. 1: Wow. Future-proofing. Hahaha. Boogsh.

2: In fairness sa'yo. Sarap mo kausap. 1: Masarap talaga akong kausap. Basic. LOL. Kasi gago akong kausap always. 2: Ako rin, masarap... kausap. Saka magaling ako. 1: Aigoooo. Makabuhat ng bangko niya o. Sino ka diyan. 2: Try mo. 1: 'Di ka mayabang pero maangas ka. Alam mo 'yun? 2: 'Di ko sure e. Ikaw na bahala mag-judge. 1: Maka-tanong lang din ano po? Parang audit. 2: Audit ba? Basic. 1: Lekat pulikat ka. Straight ka ba talaga? 2: Oo naman. 1: Sure? Ang daldal mo e. 2: Oo nga. Ikaw, 'di ka ba talaga straight? 1: Hindi. Not ever. 2: Fluid? Yes. Wala namang mali sa fluid. Basic. Gusto ko 'yan. 1: Gago. Thanks! Next.

[trashbag-baby666]

New au dropping later <<33

[dlbyhlt]

Louis es LGBT+

Primero me gustaría decir que este es mi primer post, por lo que trataré de hacer lo mejor posible. Segundo, si no te agrada el post pasa de largo y listo.

A lo largo de los años Louis Tomlinson ha demostrado usar el queer coding.

¿Que es el queer coding?

Es el conjunto de características, comportamientos y elementos que sugieren que alguien pueda ser queer, aunque su orientación sexual permanezca ambigua.

Esto es algo que todas las personas lgbt+ hemos hecho a lo largo de nuestra vida. Esas pequeñas pistas e insinuaciones de que en realidad no somos heteros, pero sin querer salir del closet.

“Pero Louis ha dicho que es hetero”

Esto no es del todo cierto. Las únicas “confirmaciones” de el diciendo que es hetero ha sido a base de tweets, mismos que él a dicho que no siempre es él quien los escribe, y que nosotras las fans nos podemos dar cuenta de eso.

Louis_Tomlinson: El hecho de que trabajes para un periodico “creible” y hables de estas tonterias da risa, De hecho, soy heterosexual.

Primero, podemos ver que habla del ser gay como si de algo malo y ridiculo se tratara, cuando años antes había demostrado su apoyo a la comunidad (en realidad, lo sigue haciendo, pero eso irá más adelante). La segunda cosa que se puede rescatar de aquí es que vemos que fue tuiteado desde iPhone cuando en realidad, el jamás ha tenido uno.

Louis_Tomlinson: ¿Como es esto? Larry es la mayor mierda que he escuchado. Soy feliz, ¿por qué no puedes aceptar eso?

Esta no es una confirmación de el siendo heterosexual, pero si es un tweet que muchas antis usan de prueba. Pero nuevamente, fue tuiteado desde un iPhone. Y aun cuando se le ha preguntado en persona directamente sobre el tema, jamas se ha expresado de esa manera.

“I´m gay”

Ahora hablemos de esas dos veces que hemos escuchado decir que Louis en realidad es gay. La primera dicha por el y la segunda por Zayn.

Tenemos este video de Louis y Zayn compartiendo un porro de marihuana. Durante el video se les ve bromeando y jugando, pero llega una parte (minuto 2:04) donde Zayn le dice a Louis “I know you like dick”. El no parece muy ofendido por eso, en realidad no le disgustó en lo más mínimo, porque lo único que hace es reír y seguir bromeando como antes.

Zayn: Sabemos que te gusta el pene.

La segunda y personalmente mi favorita, es este video de Louis diciendo “im gay it’s pretty unfortunate isn’t it Eleanor”.

Louis: Soy gay, es demasiado desafortunado, ¿no lo es Eleanor?

Seguridad: Deberías callarte.

Muchas personas aseguran que el no dice eso, pero yo en realidad creo que si. En todo caso, ¿por qué el guardia lo mandaría a callar si no está diciendo nada malo? Aun despues de eso se puede escuchar a Liam decir “no puedo creer que hayas dicho eso”. Pero bueno, vean el video y juzguen ustedes.

Louis mostrando apoyo a la comunidad

Por allá del 2012 hubo una entrevista donde le preguntaron como se sentía acerca de sus fans gays. El básicamente dice que está feliz de tener ambos lados, y que todos su fans disfruten de las fotos (por el contexto de la entrevista).

En el 2014, después de que Tim Cook (sucesor del fundador de Apple) declarara que es gay, se vio a Louis usando esta playera en señal de apoyo al empresario.

Ahora a lo largo de su carrera como solista hemos visto más de el apoyando a la comunidad.

Incluso se sabe de una vez que quiso tomar la bandera lgbt, pero la fan no le entedio.

1: Derechos lésbicos. 3: Piérdete en tu orgullo. 4: Se orgulloso.

Louis haciendo queer coding

Ahora la parte que más me importa de este post. Comenzare con las canciones que Louis escribió durante One Direction y una vez que dejó la banda.

ALIVE

Probablemente uno de los primeros gay anthems que escribio.

“Le pregunte al doctor: ¿que es lo que esta mal conmigo?”, demasiado obvia esta parte en realida.

“Quitate el peso del mundo de tus hombros, no tenemos nada que provar”, habla sobre quitarte toda esa carga que te trae el estar escondiendote porque no tiene que esconderte, no tienes nada que desmotrarle a nadie, solo se tu. 

“Le dije: Hey, esta bien, ¿no te hace sentir viva? No mires atras, vive tu vida aunque sea solo por esta noche” esta es la idea principal de la canción, vivir y disfrutar sin que te importe nada, solo ser tu.

Aunque algunos opinan que la canción puede hablar sobre la libertad sexual, creo que tambien va ligada a la comunidad lgbt.

STRONG

“Piensa en todo el amor que se ha desperdiciado, la gente huye tratando de evitarlo”, en mi opinión, habla de toda esa gente gay/lesbiana que se ha sentio enamorada pero por miedo al que pasara o a ese sentimeinto prefieren huir de ahí.

END OF THE DAY

Esta canción ha sido tomada como un “gay anthem” desde el primer día que se conoció. Principalmente por estas partes de la canción:

La primera dice “Todo lo que se al final del día es que amas a quien amas, no hay otra manera”. Esto es muy fácil de relacionar con la comunidad, puesto que uno de los principales eslogan es “amor es amor”.

Ahora la parte más interesante es cuando dice “El cura cree que es el diablo”. Durante años se creyó que la homosexualidad era una enfermedad traída por el diablo. “Pero chica, eres solo tu”, simplemente cambien el chica por chico y tienen un himno gay. Es sabido que todas sus canciones eran controladas por su manager, así que sería obvio que lo hagan usar pronombres femeninos. Esto es algo interesante porque sabemos que ahora el en su carrera como solista ni siquiera usa pronombres para sus canciones.

HOME

Creo que es muy importante mencionar que esta canción fue filtrada por el mismo Louis, y que ese día fue el único día que se canceló un concierto de One Direction.

Las teorías de porque la filtro es que si hubiera pasado por su producción, lo más probable es que le hicieran agregar pronombres innecesarios, así como lo muy larry que es la letra.

“Déjame ir y sentirme libre”, claramente el no se siente bien en el lugar en el que esta, y hay algo que no lo hace estar libre.

“Me dije que me gustaba”, ¿por que alguien se tendría que auto convencer de que una chica le gusta?

“Pero había algo que faltaba en sus ojos”, ah, entonces es por eso.

Recapitulemos, el esta con una chica que claramente no le gusta, pero le TIENE que gustar. Sin embargo hay otra persona que si lo hace sentir como en casa, que es a quien llama cada que se siente solo, y misteriosamente, nunca sabemos el género de esta otra persona. Cabe mencionar que es de las unicas canciones de 1D que no va dirigida a una chica.

ONLY THE BRAVE

Pregúntenle a cualquier persona de la comunidad que opina de esta canción, y sin dudarlo dirá que se siente identificado, o que hasta es su canción favorita. Sin querer (o tal vez si), Louis creo un himno gay.

“Estoy rompiendo mis propias reglas”, creo que esto es demasiado obvio. Se está dejando llevar por lo que siente y escribiéndolo (lo vemos en habit, always you y too young).

“Es una iglesia de romances quemados”, es sabido que en la antigüedad las personas homosexuales eran llevadas a las iglesias para ser torturados y quemados en la hogueras.

“Estoy muy lejos para rezarles”, el se quiere ir de ahí, pero no se va a ir.

“Vamos, cuando lo sabes lo sabes”. Esto me recuerda a un cantante mexicano, al cual los rumores sobre ser gay le persiguieron por años, y cuando finalmente se lo preguntaron directamente el respondió “Lo que se ve no se pregunta”. Y tampoco puedo evitar pensar en la frase que tiene tatuada Louis: “Es lo que es”. Llámenme loca, pero para mi, es exactamente lo mismo.

Muy bien, ahora que ya he hablado de las canciones, pasaré a hablar de otras señales.

TRIÁNGULO ROSA

El triángulo rosa ha sido un símbolo para varias identidades LGBTQ, inicialmente pensado como una insignia de vergüenza, pero luego reclamado como un símbolo positivo de identidad propia. En la década de 1970, resurgió como un símbolo de protesta contra la homofobia y del activismo gay, y desde entonces ha sido adoptado por la comunidad LGBTQ como un símbolo popular del orgullo y el movimiento de derechos LGBTQ.

¿Por qué esto es importante? Regresomos al 2017, cuando Miss You fue lanzada. El video comienza con Louis solo, pero después se reúne con sus amigos, se va de fiesta y nuevamente esta solo. Pero al final, se pueden ver estos triángulos en el fondo.

Un triángulo rosado y al revés, el mismo símbolo usado por los nazis para identificar a los hombres homosexuales, y tiempo después, tomado como un simbolo de orgullo.

También es bueno recordar como Louis tiene un triángulo tatuado en el tobillo, el cual por un tiempo mantuvo oculto, pero después le pidió a los paparazzis que se enfocaran en ese tatuaje. Recurden por palabras del mismo Niall Horan:  "If you don't want to get papped, you don't get papped".

A pesar de tener este tatuaje desde el 2013, fue en el 2017 que el PIDIO que lo vieramos.

En Agosto del 2017 Louis pide especificamenete que fotografiaran su tatuaje.

Después de esas fotos mantuvo oculto su tobillo por un largo tiempo, y no fue hasta agosto de este año (2020) que volvimos a ver el tatuaje.

IDIOMA POLARI

En el 2017, una semana antes de que la canción Just Like You fuera lanzada, Louis se hizo un Photoshop con la marca Polari. 

¿Que es el idioma Polari? Un lenguaje secreto convertido el siglo pasado en una especie de "guiño verbal" entre hombres gay en el Reino Unido, antes de que en 1967 se despenalizaran en Inglaterra y Gales los actos homosexuales entre mayores de 21 años.

Y cuando crees que todo esto no es más que una “coincidencia”, Louis sube una foto a su Instagram, mientras que en la descripción usa el idioma Polari (por si no quedo claro, un idioma conocido solo por hombres gays).

louist91: Estas bien bebé (idioma Polari)

Esta claro que el conoce el idioma y sabe lo que hace. Ahora ya esta confirmado que el se comunica a traves de su ropa.

JUST LIKE YOU

Esta canción tan personal para Louis, y que aparte salio el 11 de Octubre, día internacional del coming out (salir del closet). Es sabido que el lyrinc video de esta canción posee demasiados articulos y mensajes ocultos, pero el más relevante en este post es el siguiente:

George Michale fue un cantante britanico que tuvo que esconder su sexualidad durante años ya que la prensa lo tomaba como “sex symbol” y temia lo que se pudiera decir de el.

Como este tambien se pueden encontrar articulos que hablan de la comunidad lgbt y sus derechos, asi como de la minoria que son.

JAMES DEAN 

James Dean fue un actor estadounidense, el cual su sexualidad siempre estuvo en la boca del publico. Fue hasta su muerte que varias biografias sobre él afirmaban que tuvo relaciones con hombres, y que en realidad era gay.

En el 2017 Louis decidio hacer un photoshoot impiradose en él.

EYES WIDE OPEN

En Halloween del 2018, cuando fue juez en TXF, tenia que ir disfrazado, ¿y que hizo el? Llevar una polera sobre la pelicula Eye Wide Open, que trata de un hombre judio que esta enamorado de otro hombre.

PAPILLON (2017)

Una pelicula sobre un hombre que fue condenado por un crimen que NO cometio, y con ayuda de otro prisioner tratan de ser LIBRES.

Si lo vemos de este modo en realidad no es nada relevante. Pero cuando nos enteramos que Rami Malek (quien actuo de LOUIS Dega), llega a la premier con esta camisa.

Y que Louis aparecio despues usando la misma... bueno, ¿ahora todo cambia, no?

Es demasiado obvio que el se comunica a traves de su ropa.

LOUIS RECOMENDANDO MUSICA

Todos sabemos que Louis ama recomendar musica por twitter.

Louis_Tomlinson: El nuevo album de Devlin es tan bueno !

Así que pudieras creer que es un album cualquiera, pero cuando escuchas la letra de la canción Cold Blooded te das cuenta que solo nos queria comunicar algo.

¿Asi que es cierto que xxxx es el padre del bebé? Realmente no lo creo, si me preguntan, a el no le gustan las mujeres. Podria haber sido Harry, si, apuesto a que fue Harry.

Dejando de lado la primer parte que esta relacionada con el bg. Creo que la segunda parte es demasiado obvia, ¿no? ¿Por que Louis recomendaria un album que contiene una canción sobre un hombre gay con un posible hijo falso, y que ademas menciona el nombre “Harry”? Louis nos conoce y sabe lo que especulariamos de ahí.

Como veran en realidad no mencione a Larry en todo el post, pero de ahí se pueden sacar aun más pruebas, solo que esta vez me quise enfocar solo en Louis.

Como una persona que es parte de la comunidad y que por AÑOS hizo cosas para que su familia lo notara sin decirlo, les puedo decir que es exactamente lo que Louis hace. No se trata de asumir sexualidades, se trata de abrir los ojos y entender lo que nuestro idolo nos quiere decir. Ignorar todo esto seria ignorar el closething que existe en la industria, y porque el que ha pasado todos estos años Louis.

Todas las imagenes que le han querido dar a lo largo de los años como “chico-fiestero-problematico-mujeriego-y-rudo” es solo una estrategia más para ocultar el hecho de que es gay. 

Si regresamos al 2010/11 podemos ver las expresiones tan amaneradas que tenia, y como fueron hiciendo que esas acabaran con los años, y aun asi, en videos de el con fans o estando “distraido” podemos ver como todas esas expresiones siguen en el. El mismo nos ha dicho que no le gusta que lo vean como alguien rudo porque el es una BUENA persona.

Si tienen alguna duda mis preguntas estan abiertas y respondere todas. Gracias por leer mi primer post !

— A

[katnissmellarkkk]

Andddd here’s my chappy three thoughts 🥳🥳🥳

Hmmm Katniss saying that her mother has a dress made of velvet is actually really interesting because it shows that Mrs. Everdeen Lily-Rose really was well-er off before she married Katniss’ father Hunter.

Or did she get the velvet dress from Maysilee? Oh well, who knows.

Aww, Katniss’ nervous habit of touching soft things repeatedly to soothe herself 🤧🤧.

“Crying is not an option. There will be more cameras at the train station.” — someone tell that to Peeta 🤣🤣🤣.

Okay I gotta stop picking on Primmers, I know but like. How small is she that she sits on Katniss’ lap like a toddler but then in the following year is the same height as her? Doesn’t matter I know but still I wonder.

Okay so Mrs. E is the doctor for the people of the Seam? Idk I never thought about this but who does people like Peeta or Madge or Delly go to if they’re sick or hurt? Is there a still running apothecary shop that Katniss never mentions? Are her grandparents still running the family biz?

Also okay, I gotta stop having so many thoughts on all the lil details I know but like. Katniss says here she’s familiar with the herbs her mother doesn’t grow on her own so like a). Katniss is more of a healer than she leads on because no average person knows what kind of plant is medicinal and b). Her mother is just growing herbs and Katniss never mentions it again in the whole series? Or I just missed it.

Okay imma move on from this one singular paragraph but Gale and her made a pact a year ago that they’ll supply each other’s family with game if they were to be reaped... I’m feeling like their close friendship is probably only one year old then? Idk. Just my interpretation.

Honestly I love Katniss getting mad at her mom here.

She’s sixteen, for God’s sake, of course she’s angry at what her mother’s illness put her through.

Also I lowkey like that her mother got mad back because that lady in the movies had zero personality.

“Boys who are two to three times my size.” She sounds so little, omg 🥺🥺🥺.

“I don’t care if we’re rich, I just really want you to come home” 🤧🤧🤧😩😩😩😩 okay Primmers, you got me here.

“the Peacekeeper is at the door, signaling our time is up, and we're all hugging one another so hard it hurts and all I'm saying is ‘I love you. I love you both.’ And they're saying it back...” this is so sad leave me be 😫😫😫😫

Katniss is burying her face in a pillow to block out her emotions this is too much for me 🥵🥵🥵

Omg I forgot Peeta’s father visits Katniss 😅

Why does he visit Katniss?

She describes Peeta’s father as a “big, broad-shouldered man.” And then describes Peeta as stocky. Idk the comparison of the two descriptions has always led me to think Peeta is gonna be a big dude when he grows up like his father. This made no sense and had zero correlation but I thought, so I said it, no regrets

Oh he brought her cookies 🤧

WAIT WAIT WAIT. I just had a new thought, y’all. What if instead of the baker bringing cookies being a thing he does for all tributes, what if he’s bringing the cookies because Peeta asked him to, because he made them and wants to give them to Katniss and knows she’ll never accept / trust them coming from her competition? What if that’s the real reason the baker visited her in the first place? Because Peeta asked him to? This was such a shipper comment but idc, no regrets, remember?

Omg Peeta’s father is just mute 🤣🤣🤣

Between an abusive, angry mother and a mute for a father, the Mellark brothers must have had a fairytale of a childhood 😅😅😅😅.

But seriously #PoorPeetaMyBaby

Aww Peeta’s father is gonna help keep Prim alive 😭

Omg I just remembered he’s her mother’s ex boyfriend. Haidon Mellark, as I named him in my fics.

That one fic where he was thought to be Prim’s real father is just playing now in my head, rent free.

But does Katniss not realize that he may be offering to help Prim as a favor to her? Like she claims Prim is just so wonderful people adore her but there’s like zero evidence in the text that make her endearing? Okay I need to turn this bus around, I need to find a love for Primmy Deen.

Madge is not one for preamble apparently. No “hi, how are you? I’m sorry you’re gonna die? What will your last meal be?” Just right to “here, wear this family heirloom of mine, k thanks.”

I like that Madge had to kiss her cheek for Katniss to realize they were friends 😅😅😅.

I remember always loving her and Gale’s hug here. I’ve always felt like it was platonic, but especially when I first read the books and had zero preference one way or another for Gale or Peeta, I really liked how she said even with nothing romantic between them, “when he opens his arms, I don’t hesitate to go to him” or something I’m paraphrasing ok I’m lazy

Also though, this is the first time they’ve ever hugged? Idk why that surprises me? It shouldn’t because where is a hug gonna fit into a hunting trip 😅🤣😂 “I just caught a deer!” “let’s celebrate with a hug!”

I like that Katniss remembers how her father even failed to make a good bow sometimes. Random, I know.

I like that the Capitol weren’t entertained by the people freezing to deaths because it wasn’t bloody enough 🤭🙃

“How different can it be [to kill a human vs an animal]?” She’s about to find out, Gale 🥺. And when she comes back you won’t understand 🙄😔

What did Gale want to say before the Peacekeepers dragged him away?

I used to think it was a confession of love but I’m actually sure it wasn’t now? Just the wording “remember I-“ doesn’t sound like it, considering he never confessed anything prior to her coming home.

I’m assuming now he was just gonna give her some more advice to stay alive 🤷🏼‍♀️. Clearly if it were relevant it would have made its way to the others books.

Aww, she’s never been inside a car before 😭😭. I didn’t even know they had cars in this universe but okay.

I notice though how she says “In the Seam, we travel on foot.” So is Peeta just riding his trolly down the street every day with the other merchants then? 🤣

Peeta just openly crying on camera 😅😢.

I like how Katniss is like “ooo is this an act to get sponsors?” when in reality Peeta’s like “no, I’m just a soft and genuine boy ™️”

Omg I just realized this totally goes along with Peeta’s thing later on “I want to die as myself”

He’s refusing to hold back his emotions because he thinks he’s doomed to die and he’s already refusing to pretend to be or feel something ingenious.

But a Johanna mention in book 1 chapter 3 woohoo 🥳🥳🥳 also Katniss comparing Jo and Peeta is kind of like foreshadowing of their shared torture in book 3.

Omg she just called Peeta broad-shouldered and strong. 🥰🥰🥰 my headcanon for his post-canon body is confirmed

Also why does Katniss keep allotting his strength to carrying bread trays around? Are they heavy? Why have I never once heard of people who carry bread trays being strong? I always thought Peeta was really strong because he learned to fight in order to defend himself against his mother but that’s probably wrong.

But if a mother is abusive, it can lead to one of the kids being physically violent as well and we know Peeta isn’t but he has two older brothers I’m gonna cut myself off now but I think we all smelled what I just stepped in.

Also I just find it so fascinating now how she regards herself vs Peeta here.

When talking about herself, she says, “The competition will be far beyond my abilities. [...] Oh, there'll be people like me, too. People to weed out before the real fun begins.” But when she talks about Peeta, she immediately says, “It would take an awful lot of weeping to convince anyone to overlook him.”

It’s just funny how she discounted herself right from the start but thought he was a real contender and then come to find out, Peeta believes it’s the exact opposite 😂🙃. They’re both so stupid I can’t even take it.

Wait did they actually give the location of the Capitol and the location of District Twelve in today’s world? And I just overlooked it? Brb I’m gonna go to google maps right quick.

Okay so basically what I gathered is the Capitol is probably in New Mexico and District Twelve is somewhere between Kentucky and Alabama. Irrelevant I know. But just a reminder now to everyone that Katniss and Peeta are literally speaking, crying and screaming in thick, backwoods southern accents.

It’s literally so sad how everything for Katniss is about food. Like every motive she has, every action she does is about preventing starvation ever again. 🤧🤧🤧

First mockingjay mention 🤭🤭.

“My father was particularly fond of mockingjays” 😭😭😭 I bet he was 😭😭😭😭

We always go on and on about how Katniss is a mockingjay or her children are mockingjays but Katniss herself here says mockingjays represent her father imma cry, y’all 😫😫😫😫

“It’s like having a piece of my father with me, protecting me” shut up shut up shut up shut up

Awww, Katniss has never had food like this before 😔😔😔

Neither has Peeta 🤧🤧

Katniss disliking the way Effie put the two kids from the year before down and so began to eat like a pig just to prove her point, is so her. And the beginning of her fighting for the underdog.

Omg the Rue introduction 🥺🥺🥺

Bahahahaha the commenters calling District Twelve backwards but charming 😅😅😅 they really are the hillbilly district

Peeta’s unexpected laugh 🥺🥺🥺 I love you, baby

“He was drunk. He’s drunk every year.” “Every day.” Katniss and Peeta are already finishing each other’s sentiments and teaming up to get on Effie’s nerves I love them so much 😍

Oh my God, Effie, you selfish jerk. They’re kids having fun for like one second, no need to throw in their faces they’re gonna die if the drunk won’t help them. I’d forgotten why I don’t really like the book version of her. I actually prefer her as comedic relief in the movies.

I actually just realized I really dislike Effie Trinket, I hope they never speak to her again Post-Mockingjay. Idc how you’re raised you don’t need to treat teenagers who are sentenced to a probable death badly just because they laughed at you 🙄🙄🙄😡😡😡😡. They didn’t even really laugh at her, she’s just annoying and awful, we don’t stan Effie in this household.

Okay, that’s all for my thoughts on chapter three! Until next time, y’all ! If anyone actually read this long mess of a post.

[btsmosphere]

Blessing and a Curse | PJM

~summary: You are the unlukiest person you know. Park Jimin seems to be the exception to the rule. But when strange dreams start haunting you, Jimin begins to piece together the events that have followed you your whole life...

~word count: 12.7k (anyone know if this is too long for a oneshot haha)

~college!au, magic!au, fluff, angst

~Warnings: nightmares, house fire, knife injury and blood, mentioned homophobia/biphobia, swearing

~a/n: happy (almost) halloween! welcome to my new oneshot, I really hope you enjoy it! -if you’re worried about the warnings, all except the nightmares happen near the end and are probably skippable, but if you might be triggered then please be on the safe side and save this for later 💜this story isn’t primarily about those things, it’s about jimin and yn being cute hehe

In the darkness of the room, only one face is visible. A woman with age-worn skin is looking at you.

She is talking.

She is: you can see it in the way her mouth moves, but she is articulating without sound.

Your ears are plugged with water, you can hear it in the way it rumbles. Maybe that same water is what is drowning out everything else, blurring the edges of this scene. Yes, the room is dark, but surely something is in the shadows.

Why would she be here alone?

There is a fire: of that you are sure. Nothing else would light the lady’s face in a scarlet glow, deepening her wrinkles until they seem carved of wood. Only her continued movement shatters this illusion.

In the glimmering light, her eyebrows sink in the middle, fixing you with a stare.

She is approaching.

Her eyes are all you can see, a flame visible within them and they rush to you. The heat of fire is no longer merely imagined. No, you feel it crawling over you as you watch her mouth move without sound.

It can’t be water around you, because you can’t move. Fire can’t survive in water. But here it is, pinning you down, smothering you.

Maybe you are dying.

She is talking.

The woman with age-worn skin is looking at you. Only one face is visible in the darkness of the room.

The room was still dark. Something was different, you thought vaguely as you blinked.

And then suddenly, everything was different.

No face is visible.

You can hear: you cough, and the sound of it reaching your ears startles you. No water, then.

More evidence of this is the fact you can see, even in the dark, the glow that fights its way around your curtain from the street lamp outside illuminating your bedroom. You can move.

You certainly aren’t dying.

That’s a relief.

Morning comes, the streetlamp has turned off and you pay no mind to the dream hovering just out of your memory’s reach. Plenty like that have come before, and plenty will follow.

Anyway, it’s just a dream.

Now, you are more preoccupied with checking and double checking your bag. Your laptop, notebooks and folders are in there. First aid kit, check. Pencil case, check. Five memory sticks, check.

On your way to campus, you dodged a ladder leaning against a house and walked right into the path of a van splashing muddy water up your jeans. Sighing, you pulled out some tissues to dry it off as best you could, backing into a wall to get out of the splash zone again.

Of course, you backed into a pile of dog poo.

Scowling, you scraped the bottom of your shoe furiously against the pavement and hurried on.

Today was one of the rare occasions when Yoongi had arrived before you. On any normal Monday morning, he would slink in after about half an hour into class, but there he sat in the entrance hall, looking blearily round at you and licking his lips as he set his coffee down.

However, your attention was drawn away by the boy sitting with him.

Park Jimin.

As you slid into the third seat at the table, you widened your eyes at Yoongi, hoping to convey your panic.

“Hey, I was just going to grab a coffee, would you like one?” Jimin smiled at you, standing.

You swallowed, quickly turning back to him.

“Oh-um, er, no, I- it’s okay. Thank you.”

“Okay,” he smiled sweetly again and walked across to the little bar across the space.

“God, just let him buy you a coffee,” Yoongi groaned, “or do you really expect anything to happen if you never say yes?”

“They always give me shit coffee here,” you sighed, glancing back at Jimin waiting in the queue.

“You say that about everywhere,” Yoongi said. He let his head fall into his hand so it covered half his face.

“That’s because it’s true!” you protested, but he had heard it before. “What are you doing here anyway? You look half asleep.”

“Jimin dragged me,” he mumbled into his palm.

“Woe is you,” you laughed, slumping back on your seat and swinging your feet. You had given up tipping your chair long ago.

When Jimin came back, it was only to scoop up his bag before heading off to his class. That was the most you ever seemed to talk to him, as much as you would like to get to know him more. Being flatmates with your closest friend in your department saw him at plenty of the same parties, but you were too scared to approach him.

Something would go wrong.

With you, it always did. Yoongi said you were just a pessimist, which held a lot of weight coming from him.

Class went smoothly. A pen had leaked in your pencil case, and promptly ran out of ink when you tried to use it, but other than that, you came out unscathed.

It wasn’t until that afternoon that the wind picked up.

After a long day of classes, you parted ways with Yoongi to go to the library, while he left for basketball practise. Tugging your scarf tighter around you, you fought against the weather on the short walk between buildings.

On reaching your refuge, you tiptoed through the rows of books to the study area. Luckily, one last spot was left by the window, where you could see the grey clouds rolling by, the odd leaf whisking past and the branches tugged by the wind.

Smile spreading over your face, you marched towards it, setting your things down. But the moment you sat, the chair’s back leg buckled, a snap resounding through the silent space and drawing glares from the other students.

Mentally cursing, you pulled yourself up and settled for the most hidden table you could find. Sure, you could handle the dust and the flickering light in this corner.

To be fair, you did get a good amount of studying done, satisfied by the time you pulled on your scarf again and set off home.

The few trees dotted around campus creaked in the gale when you passed them. Head down against the wind, you pressed on, not looking up until you heard a familiar voice. What they were saying wasn’t quite audible, but you would recognise it anywhere. Maybe your little crush was getting a little out of hand.

Looking around, you saw Jimin with a couple of friends coming out of the gym across the courtyard.

Okay, he hadn’t seen you yet. Maybe he wasn’t coming this way?

No such luck.

Their voices drew closer, so you picked up the pace, digging your face deeper into the wool around your neck. Park Jimin was behind you, no big deal. Just don’t embarrass yourself.

But the moment you took a deep breath, a scraping sound came from above you. Frowning, you looked up distractedly. There it came again, a gravelly noise somewhere overhead. This time, though, it didn’t stop, only growing louder, and there-!

A shape, sliding off the roof, right over your head. In the blink of an eye, you scrambled to move, but your feet were caught and you tripped, inelegantly face-planting the ground as a smashing sound deafened you.

A stinging pain flared in your calf.

“Oh my god! Y/N?”

From your front-seat view of the floor, you groaned, taking a moment to close your eyes. This couldn’t be happening. Inhaling, you finally pushed yourself up to sit just as Jimin rushed up to you, his two friends close behind. Forcing a grimace, you tried to ignore your burning face as he knelt down, discarding his bag.

There, right beside your leg, lay a cracked roof tile.

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, bending your leg to get a closer look. The source of the pain showed itself; your jeans were torn, a deep graze on your skin underneath where the tile must have caught you.

Beside you, Jimin’s hands hovered, twitching as he debated what to do. He watched as you twisted your ankle experimentally and winced.

“You should go to the doctor,” he told you. He was right, too. At least there was one on campus that you could hopefully reach on an injured leg-

“I’ll take you, come on,” he pushed his bag into his friend’s arms and threw yours over his own shoulder. Before you could utter a word, his shoulder was under your arm, helping you stand.

“Thank you,” you spluttered, “I-I think it should be fine though-“

Right on cue, you stood on you bad foot, which instantly gave way as you choked back a cry.

“It’s just twisted!” you exclaimed, though your full weight was pretty much weighing down on Jimin.

“Best to get it checked,” one of his friends chimed in, clapping you on the shoulder as he set off walking in the direction of the health centre.

Sighing, you gave in and allowed Jimin to help as you hobbled next to him.

“That’s Hoseok,” he said, smiling again, “and that’s Tae.”

Holding up a hand, Tae bobbed his head at you with a grin.

“Hi,” you panted.

It was likely that your attempt to return a smile failed, with the bugging pain in your ankle. Either way, Tae had turned back around now, walking beside Hoseok just ahead of you two. Before long, you had resorted to hopping. It wasn’t efficient.

“Would it be better…” Jimin said, “I mean, I could- I think I should carry you.”

Managing a weak smile, you slowed beside him. Maybe you didn’t have to go far, but it felt like a marathon at the moment.

Eyes creasing in his own smile, Jimin gently let go of your arm and stepped in front of you, crouching to let you put your arms around his neck. Surely he would be able to feel your heart hammering at your ribs, pressed up against his back like this?

If he did, he didn’t let on.

Sliding his arms behind your knees, he scooped you up and you were off at a much more reasonable speed this time.

“Tae!” he yelled.

When the black-haired boy turned around, Jimin tossed him your bag.

By some miracle, you heart had chilled out by the time you entered the doctor’s reception. Maybe a short trip on someone’s back had healing effects in itself.

You were handed an ice pack and some paperwork and told to wait. Taehyung and Hoseok said they would leave you to it, but Jimin assured you he could stay. And who were you to turn him down? This wasn’t coffee.

The silence was companiable as you sat side by side, Jimin sitting forward, elbows on his thighs while you put your feet up on a chair he had dragged over. He didn’t speak until you had nearly finished writing.

“Maybe you could sue the college,” he joked, gently nudging you with his elbow.

Laughing, you signed off the last box quickly before setting the form down and giving him your full attention.

“Thanks for staying, you didn’t have to,” you squeezed out a smile.

“Don’t worry,” he assured, “I’m just glad you’re not more hurt. It was crazy, what happened.”

“Believe it or not, that’s not the first time that’s happened to me,” you admitted. A small laugh brushed by your lips.

At your words, Jimin turned to you fully, bringing his chin off his hands. For a moment he only stared with his eyebrows raised, smile faltering, unsure if you were kidding.

“You’re being serious?”

You grimaced.

“A roof tile fell on you? More than once?”

“What are the chances, right?” you sighed, “But yeah. I’m definitely the most accident-prone person I know.”

“At least you managed to get out of the way… I thought it was going to hit your head or something,” Jimin looked genuinely terrified. You were sure your heart melted as he said this with his big eyes and such sincerity.

“If by getting out of the way you mean falling on my face,” you smiled softly.

Thankfully, he saw the funny side and laughed along with you, shaking his head and sitting back. You were glad the worry had left his face.

Only one other person sat in the waiting room, a mother holding a small baby, who now turned around to glare at the pair of you, although were only laughing quietly. Either way, you both closed your mouths, noticing her child was asleep.

A screaming baby was not something you wanted to add to this situation.

“So… what do you study?” you muttered after the woman turned back around in her chair.

“Protective magic,” Jimin dazzled you again with his smile, “it’s my second year now.”

“Same,” you replied, “well, as in, I’m in second year too, but I’m not gifted. I’m doing literature.”

“With Yoongi, right?”

“Oh, yeah, of course you knew that,” you laughed, but you were cringing inside. Time to change topic. “But, umm, what’s your favourite part of your course?”

Magic was definitely fascinating to you, even though you weren’t gifted with powers and therefore were unable to study it. Less than half the population had magic, so it was just your luck to be in the boring majority.

“I’m enjoying studying curses,” Jimin was saying, “last year was mainly the basics, warding and stuff like that, so it’s nice to do something more interesting.”

“It sounds really cool,” you agreed, “I’m so jealous, I didn’t get any of my first-choice modules.”

Just as Jimin opened his mouth to respond, a doctor called your name.

“Ah,” Jimin stood, raising his hand to alert the doctor you were there as you struggled to your feet. “Do you want me to come in with you?”

“If that’s okay?”

Gladly accepting his arm for the second time that day, you let Jimin help you over to the doctor and followed her down the hallway to her office. As she checked you over, Jimin sat patiently behind you. Your frequent glances at him were definitely less surreptitious than you intended, but he didn’t seem to mind, smiling reassuringly when you caught his eye.

In the end, she bandaged up the graze and ordered you to avoid using your ankle as much as you could for a couple of days. You had just avoided spraining it, so it would be fine.

“How are you getting home?” she asked you, not looking at you as she typed up her notes.

“Oh, uh-“ you stuttered. You hadn’t thought of that. Walking all the way home would be too far when you could barely make the walk from the waiting room.

“-I’m driving her,” Jimin spoke.

Snapping your mouth shut, you stared round at him.

“Excellent,” the doctor smiled before you could say anything. She spun back to you in her chair, “that should be all. Remember to rest it, I’m sure your friend will help you out.”

Quietly smiling and thanking her, you hobbled out beside Jimin. Outside the door, he lifted you onto his back again for the short walk to the parking lot.

By car, your house was barely ten minutes away, but you chatted some more to Jimin. As he reached your street and you pointed out where he could stop, you were startled by how fast it seemed. You found yourself not wanting him to leave.

Who knew that completely embarrassing yourself in front of your crush could end up to be a good thing?

To your delight, he insisted on piggy-backing you up the stairs as well, somehow not even breaking a sweat, and waited with you at the door as you slid the key in.

“KOOK!” you yelled as you pushed the door open, but to your surprise, he had already left his room and was walking down the hall towards you.

On seeing Jimin next to you, arm around your waist, he stopped abruptly and his eyes widened. But then his eyes travelled down to your leg, bandage poking from the bottom of your jeans, and he relaxed.

“This is Jimin,” you offered, hopping over the threshold as Kook approached again, quick to slide his arm around your other side.

“Hi,” he nodded at Jimin, “thanks.”

Jimin, who let you go as it became clear Kook could take it from here, handed over your bag as well.

“Good to meet you,” he beamed, “see you, Y/N.”

From your position propped up against your roommate, you waved at him. Too soon he was gone, door falling shut behind him.

“is that the Jimin?” Jungkook stage-whispered.

“Yes…” you sighed, hiding your face in his shoulder and ignoring his excited eyes.

“Come on,” you felt the rumble of his laughter through you as he pushed you off him and pulled you down the corridor, “Jin-hyung! Y/N hurt herself again!”

“Kook…” you grumbled in vain.

The moment he dropped you ungracefully onto the sofa, Jin hurried in, already clutching a first aid bag. Seeing his concerned face, you couldn’t help but laugh.

“It’s okay, I already went to the doctor.”

“Aish,” he moaned, “how do you manage to get hurt so much?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you whined, “really.”

You met his eyes as he ditched the medical kit by the sofa. Sighing, he gave you a smile which you returned. You knew he worried too much.

“She was probably distracted,” Jungkook piped up from behind the kitchen counter which divided your space. The warning look you shot him wasn’t enough to quiet him though, you could see the mischievous grin on his face.

“Jeon Jungkook-” you hissed.

“-making doe-eyes at Jim- ow!”

“Y/N!” Jin cried, snatching you and Jungkook’s attention, “give me that.”

Marching across the space, he scooped up the book you had launched at the younger boy and tucked it under his arm. Then a smile slid onto his face, letting the two of you relax. He wasn’t really mad.

“So Jimin?” he grinned.

Shoving a cushion over your face, you groaned, Jin’s laughter loud in your ears.

Yoongi offered to drive you into college before you had even told him you were injured. Jimin must have told him what happened when he got home.

What you didn’t expect was to see your saviour again this early in the morning. You looked a mess in all honesty, hair messy and most lazy clothes shoved on to accommodate your bandaged leg. Sleep hadn’t been on your side last night, and the dream had come again, but until now you didn’t care.

Now, as Jimin gave up shotgun for you with a radiant smile, you regretted your lie in.

“Are you definitely okay to walk?” he eyed you worriedly as you limped over to them.

After the inevitable teasing last night, Jin and Jungkook had cooked for you and let you pick a film so you could keep you leg up with ice. As a result it did feel much better, and you told him as much.

“I’m glad,” Jimin smiled.

You were too busy smiling back to catch Yoongi rolling his eyes.

The room was dark… the old woman was looking at you…

As the fire danced and flickered below her, she spoke to you, but you were still deaf to her words.

Come to think of it, she looked like she was shouting.

Had you upset her?

A hand entered your vision, the woman’s hand, gnarled with age and dappled with firelight.

She was reaching out…

No.

She was pointing at you.

“Y/N! Hey!”

Your whole body jolted as a foot hit your leg. It took a moment for the pain to even register as you blinked, head falling off the hand it rested on.

As you looked up, opening your mouth to complain, your eyes met with Yoongi’s. He had a strange expression on his face.

Frowning, you looked around. The lecture was still going on.

“Sorry,” you whispered, “didn’t sleep well.”

Turning away from Yoongi, you found a group of boys behind you quickly tearing their eyes away. Their snickering whispers followed you even when you turned your back on them. But though you hunched over your work, fully intent on achieving tunnel-vision to your notebook, Yoongi didn’t share your intention.

“Hey,” he murmured, digging his knee into your leg until you acknowledged him. You were greeted with the same piercing stare from before. “You okay?”

Shoulders slumping, you sighed.

“Yeah…”

“You don’t look so good.”

“Thanks Yoongi,” you rolled your eyes at his bluntness, “just tired-“

“You were dreaming,” he informed you.

You blinked.

“Sorry?”

“You were kind of… twitching,” he grimaced, “that’s why they were laughing at you. Was it a nightmare?”

Blankly staring back at him, you tried to recall your dream. Once you were awake, it always left your mind like sand through a sieve, but when you thought about it…

“It’s just a dream I keep having,” you shook your head, “it’s why I couldn’t get much sleep last night.”

His eyebrows creased, but the sudden commotion that rumbled into life around you told you class was over. And you had missed most of it. Just your luck.

Sluggishly, you packed your things away. Just as you slung your bag over one shoulder, your phone buzzed in your pocket. Slipping it out as you pushed your chair in with your thigh, you saw two messages from Yoongi.

Pictures of his lecture notes.

Fondly smiling, you looked to your friend as he shut his book and slid his own things into his bag.

As usual, Yoongi walked with you after classes were done. Except today, when you parted ways, he made you promise to meet him in time to drive home. Usually you would spend longer in the library, but you could easily check out something to work on at home.

Yoongi’s earlier lecture notes mentioned some extra reading, so you decided to go and find the books to make up for being unconscious during the class itself.

Heading towards the classics section once you were inside, you heard Jimin before you saw him.

A loud thump made you wince, evidently the sound of a fallen book. Unable to help your curiosity, you leaned around the corner to the aisle it came from.

There, Jimin’s blond hair was just visible over a mound of books balanced in his arms, some tucked under his elbows, and a couple more trapped between his hip and the bookshelves.

“Jimin?”

You were already striding towards him, hurriedly grabbing for the books in the most precarious position.

“Thank you,” a muffled voice reached your ears as Jimin was finally able to step away from the shelf without fear of dropping any more.

“Um… what are you doing?” you asked incredulously as you hastily shoved the books onto a shelf, soon reaching out to start dismantling the pile in his arms.

“I had spare credits,” he spoke as you removed the books that blocked out his face, “so I’ve ended up taking Mythology of Magic. I thought I should do some reading…”

Laughing, you turned over the book in your hand. Woozle the Warlock and other stories.

“And you didn’t want to be any more selective?”

As you tugged the books from under his arm, Jimin looked down at his shuffling feet.

“I’ve never had to read fiction for my course, so I don’t really know where to start.”

“Well, I took that module last year,” you smiled, “trust me, there are a few books Professor Bang really relies on, but other than that there aren’t too many you should know.”

“Really?”

Jimin’s eyes were so hopeful. His smile had returned, and you were happy you could give him a positive answer.

“Would you like me to help you?” you ventured.

His enthusiastic nod made your heart leap.

“Right, well-“ you turned to the shelves to scan for the books you needed, absently pushing a couple more books onto a random shelf. Jimin followed suit, now having his hands free enough to make use of them.

“Jimin?”

The book you had just laid eyes on was lost as you jumped around, finding one of the librarians at the end of the shelves.

“Joon! Y/N’s gonna help me with Mythology!” Jimin greeted the man enthusiastically, but his eagerness was not returned.

“What’s going on?” the man called Joon asked.

Guiltily glancing at the shelves Jimin had pillaged, it became clear they were nowhere near orderly anymore.

“Jimin, this is going to take me ages, you know I have a date tonight!” Joon was busy complaining.

“Sorry Joon,” Jimin sighed, “do you want me to sort it?”

“Please. I’ll come and check you’re doing it right in a while,” Joon agreed, “Y/N will just have to help you later.”

“Sorry,” you piped up, looking at Jimin, “Yoongi’s giving me a lift home.”

“Then you can come to ours!” Joon startled you by clapping his hands together. He looked thrilled, but you were still confused.

“Ah, sorry Y/N,” Jimin said, “this is Namjoon. He lives with me and Yoongi.”

“Oh! Nice to meet you,” you said.

“You too,” Namjoon smiled, “I best get back to work.”

Before he left, he sent a dimpled smirk over to Jimin.

“Do you want some help?” you asked Jimin, the two of you staring at the mess of books, a couple still lying on the floor.

“No, please go and sit down,” he told you, “the doctor told you to rest.”

He was right, so you gave in.

Later on, you glanced at the clock. You didn’t want to be late for Yoongi when he was being so nice to you. Fifteen minutes were left, luckily, so you turned back to your work.

Next time you checked, fifteen minutes were left.

Wait.

That was the same as last time!

Now you thought about it, it might have said the same time when you checked it before that too.

Oh no.

Scrambling for your phone, you saw you were already more than five minutes late. As quick as humanly possible, you rammed everything into your bag and fled. You still had to check out Jimin’s books, so you dashed across to the machines to take them out.

Toe tapping on the ground, you waited behind the guy already using the last monitor, praying Yoongi wouldn’t be mad. You decided to send him a quick text.

You: On my way, sorry :)

Yoongi: Be quick

Just then, the man in front of you turned around, setting off briskly away from the station with coffee in hand. There was only one problem. You were in the way.

He crashed into you before you had even looked up, and warm liquid was already seeping through your top.

In your shock, your phone fell from your hand, straight into the puddle of coffee on the floor. Both of you just stood there for a second, mouths agape.

“Oh my gosh, sorry!” you garbled, at the same moment as he pushed past you, muttering something about standing in the way. Perfect.

Looking down at the bundle of books in your arms, it was clear they were ruined. Coffee was dripping off them, the edges of the pages already brown. Taking a breath, you bent down to retrieve your phone, not bothering to check it just yet. You had to get to Yoongi first.

In the end, you checked the books out anyway, knowing you might be able to tell your tragic tale to your new acquaintance Namjoon, thinking perhaps he could get you out of a fine.

Stepping outside, you were soon greeted with Jimin coming around the corner.

“Y/N! Yoongi sent me to go and fetch you- what happened?” he had stopped in his tracks. You didn’t have to be a genius to know your top was ruined, coffee clinging uncomfortably to your skin from the saturated fabric.

“Some guy spilled coffee on me,” you explained, carrying on towards the parking lot, “and my phone, and the books…”

Looking to the side to check he was following, you jumped. Jimin’s head had disappeared into his sweater as he pulled it over his head, shirt riding up as he did so. When he emerged you snapped your head away.

You tried to reject the hoodie as he held it out to you, knowing you would soak it through with coffee as well, but he insisted. It was black after all, it wouldn’t show up, and people were staring at you. Since you usually left campus later, it was busier than you were accustomed to.

Eventually taking the proffered jumper, you basked in its softness, thanking him with a smile.

Since you went home to study with Jimin, Jungkook and Jin had been insufferable, knowing about your crush. You told them they were lucky you loved them already, or you would kick them out.

Not if they kicked you out first, they said.

You laughed and told them you could just move in with Jimin. Needless to say, that made it worse.

In all fairness, you spent a lot of time with Jimin now. You regretted being too scared to ever talk to him before, since you actually got on really well. Helping him study had been fun, and you had been over more times since then, for studying but also for dinner and movie nights that Namjoon and Yoongi loved to crash.

You discovered all of them wanted to go to the Halloween festival, just like you.

October was halfway done, and that meant the excitement was well and truly underway. Every year on the weekend of Halloween, there was a festival just outside the city with music, haunted houses, campfires and ghost stories. And, of course, plenty of beer. Everyone wanted to go.

That week, you sat down with your own flatmates to put your names in for the festival. Due to its popularity among students, the festival always picked its attendees at random.

Since things were going well with Jimin, you had shed your pessimistic mindset a little. Maybe things didn’t always go wrong when you were around.

But then you didn’t get tickets.

And of course, Jungkook and Jin did.

You were more disappointed than you were when the same thing happened last year. For once, you had actually had your hopes up.

At least they were as sad about it as you. And it meant they went out on a dedicated shopping trip to get you a load of candy; it made both parties feel a bit better about you being left alone at the weekend.

When you had last spoken to Jimin about the festival, you found out he had gone last year. The next time you saw him after the bad news came at the weekend, you walked into uni to find him alone at the table you usually shared with Yoongi.

“Hey,” he smiled, “Yoongi’s just getting coffee.”

“Ah,” you nodded knowingly. You were quite happy to have Jimin to yourself for the moment.

It was only when Yoongi came back with two coffees that you sensed something was up. He never bought coffee for other people. Eyebrows furrowed, you watched as he set one down in front of Jimin.

Eager to take a sip, neither boy noticed you staring at them with something akin to horror until they rose from the rims of their cups.

“What’s going on?” you demanded when you caught Jimin’s eye.

“Sympathy coffee,” Jimin chuckled, “I didn’t get Halloween tickets.”

“Oh no, that sucks,” you sighed, “I didn’t either.”

“Hey, that could be good!” Jimin placed his drink down, “we could do something on Halloween instead?”

“Okay!” you agreed, “movies or something?”

“Great, let’s do it,” Jimin grinned, “beats sitting inside getting jealous of Joon and Yoongi.”

And so it was agreed, and you found yourself walking over to Jimin’s house on Halloween. Any other Saturday night, the city’s streets would be thrumming with life, groups of students holding each other up as they stumbled out, already drunk.

Today, though, it seemed like the entire student population was on the other side of town except you.

Mind wandering to your friends, you wondered how the festival was. Next year was your final chance to go. You hoped you could. They would probably be trekking through the horror maze, before dark so Jin wouldn’t get too scared. Or maybe Jungkook had got out his guitar for the campfire circle. You wondered what kinds of sugary food they would fill themselves with.

It was a nice evening for whatever was going on, being unusually warm for this time of year. You hadn’t even needed a coat to go out.

Jin’s cooking was sorely missed especially; you were something of a disaster on your own given your clumsiness. You swore you did exactly what the recipe said, but every time without fail, something went wrong.

Reaching Jimin’s, you happily let thoughts of what you were missing slide. Your bad luck had afforded you good fortune this time around, and you were determined to make the most of it.

Inside, you emptied all the snacks you had brought out of your bag and stared at the mountain you had collectively built on the coffee table.

“I guess we had better get started,” you laughed.

“We’re never going to eat all that!” Jimin laughed, flopping down on the sofa.

Sitting as well, you picked up your first chocolate and sent him a smirk.

“Challenge accepted.”

As anyone could have predicted, you failed the challenge. Before the first film had even ended, you slumped against Jimin with a groan, stomach threatening to burst. His melodic laugh filled your ears. You only groaned more, staring at the empty wrappers surrounding you before closing your eyes.

What you didn’t expect was for Jimin to reach his arm around you.

Eyes snapping open again, you saw his hands pulling your blanket up, but his arm didn’t move away. Well, perhaps your optimistic eating habits had landed you something good, after all.

The film ended, but you didn’t move away. Nor did he push you off.

“What next?” he looked down at you.

You found yourself a lot closer to his face than you were prepared for when you looked up at him, head pulling away from its place on his shoulder.

“Horror film?” you suggested with a small smile once you had recovered.

He threw his head back and laughed, but he did pick up the remote and start scrolling through the horror films.

“This should be fun,” he smiled, shaking his head slightly.

It was.

Well, maybe not the ghosts and blood and murderers and jumpscares.

But it sure was fun when Jimin clutched you in both of his arms, or when you pressed closer to him to hide your face away in his chest. When he screamed and grabbed at you, hiding his face away in the top of your head, you swore your heart stopped for a moment.

“We are not watching a horror film next time,” Jimin decreed afterwards, “or ever again!”

“Next Halloween?” you laughed.

He rolled his eyes.

“Maybe.”

Your grin wasn’t because he agreed with you. It was because he thought you would be with each other again next Halloween.

Reluctantly, the two of you untangled yourselves from the blankets. On your way out, you told him to keep the candy, and that you could never look at another one again.

“Sure,” he smirked, “text me when you get home okay.”

“Will do, thanks.”

After a beat, you stepped back through the doorway and gave him a quick hug. Wrapping his arms around you in return, he laughed.

“Don’t have nightmares!”

“No promises!” you laughed, waving at him as you walked away.

By this time it was dark, but your route back was along main roads, so you weren’t worried. However, you had barely reached the end of Jimin’s road before you felt flecks of drizzle dotting your face.

You picked up the pace, but there was still a while to go. You were never going to outrun the rain.

It wasn’t the first time you had been caught out by a storm, but it made it no more enjoyable. Halfway home, the rain was hammering down, stinging your cheeks with the force it fell. The sky above was a solid mass of cloud, regularly disturbed by thunder.

You were most certainly alone on the streets now, everyone having retreated inside. You just had to push on a little longer, and then you could have a hot shower and warm up in your pyjamas with a hot chocolate.

Cursing yourself for not bringing a coat earlier, you hugged yourself as you marched against the rain which was now dripping down your face, hair plastered to your cheeks.

On reaching your apartment, you broke into a run. Stopping outside the door, you fished for your keys in your pocket.

Nothing.

Chest tightening, you quickly pushed your hand into your other pocket. Your phone was still there, but no keys. Quickly, you patted your jeans to no success. Your bag was just as empty. Where were your keys?

Ever since the coffee incident in the library, your phone had never been quite the same, but you nearly cried in relief when you clicked the power button and it flashed on.

Leaning your head over to shield it from the worst of the rain, although you were also dripping onto it, your cold fingers fumbled to your contacts until you reached Jimin. No one else you knew was in the city.

Pressing call, you held the device to your ear, dial tone beeping over the drumming of the rain.

The tone cut off, and you waited to hear Jimin’s voice.

But it didn’t come.

“Hello?” you spoke.

No reply.

On pulling the phone from your ear, you stared at a dark screen. This time, when you pressed the power button, it was unresponsive.

Great.

Begrudgingly turning around, you sighed heavily. You fingers were already draining themselves of feeling, every inch of your jumper soaked.

But then, a couple of streets further, you spotted something glittering by the pavement. Your keyring!

Dashing towards it, you didn’t care when your fingers scraped against the cold metal of a drain, grabbing your keys as soon as you could. But when you held them up, you could only stare.

You were definitely the unluckiest person you knew.

The keyring charm itself was intact, but the same could not be said for the mangled metal that hung off it, which had been snapped. No key remained.

Looking back to the ground where you had collected it, you could only see dark tarmac. No key. And below the drain your keyring had been lying on was a torrent of rushing water from the storm.

You were well and truly fucked, only one option left.

Your third journey that night down the roads to Jimin’s was significantly less enjoyable than before. Even your shoes were soaked now and you were shivering from head to toe. It really wasn’t the way you wanted Jimin to see you, looking like a rat that had crawled up from the gutter, but you had nowhere else to go.

Finally reaching Jimin’s road, you were surprised to see his door fly open when you were still halfway down the street, spilling yellow light into the dark. You frowned even more when you saw him step out, wrapped in a raincoat, practically tripping down his own steps before looking around.

Closer now, you were able to catch his attention as you approached. He only stared at you, his adorable face the very picture of shock, before he ran up to you.

“Y/N oh my god! The moment this storm started I got worried, and when I saw a missed call from you I didn’t know what to do! What happened? Are you alright?”

“C-cold,” you said through chattering teeth.

“Shit, yeah, let’s get you back inside,” he grabbed your hand and pulled you with him. If only you could feel where his hand held yours.

Just across the threshold, you held back, knowing you were already soaking the ground.

“Y/N, you’re freezing, please come in,” Jimin pulled you into the living room, not that you could resist when you felt the warmth of his house greet you.

Realising you hadn’t even removed your shoes, you bent to undo your waterlogged laces, but your fingers were uncooperative.

“Here,” Jimin knelt too. You watched as his fingers deftly released your laces, and you let him slide your shoes off. His face was flushed, slightly damp too from his short trip outside.

“You’re soaked,” he murmured, sitting back and reaching for you jumper.

Together, you peeled the garment off you, heavy with water.

“I’ll get you some clothes,” he said firmly, “you’re staying here.”

Beyond the window, the rain had not let up.

“Okay.”

Making quick work of the rest of your clothes in the bathroom, you left them in a pile on the shower floor. Jimin had luckily left a towel on the radiator. Wrapped up in the warm fluff, you barely wanted to move, but eventually Jimin’s clothes, folded on the floor, tempted you enough.

Emerging fully dressed in the too-big clothes, you found Jimin stumbling down the stairs. Or rather, a moving pile of blankets.

“Any better?” his eyes peeked over the top, making it impossible for you not to laugh.

“Yeah, thanks.”

Following him into the living room, you stepped over the wet patches you had created as Jimin dropped the blankets onto the sofa.

“So what happened?” he clambered into the makeshift nest, patting the blankets beside him for you to follow suit.

“My keys found their way down a storm drain,” you sighed, “but I didn’t notice until I got home. And then my phone gave up.”

You let out a dry laugh. It really was ridiculous how the world seemed to be against you.

“Would hot chocolate make it better?”

Your eyes and mouth grew simultaneously and Jimin laughed loudly, head flopping back and soft hair falling away from his face. Anyone would have thought he had just given you a bag of lottery winnings by the way you looked at him.

“Yes, I take it?” he giggled.

Maybe the world was against you, but Jimin was the one thing that made everything better. Sitting next to him surrounded by blankets and sipping cocoa could only be made better if you weren’t just sitting next to him.

As if to prove his place as your personal saviour, Jimin soon snuggled closer to you.

After a few minutes of his head on your shoulder, your arm around him, you whispered into his hair.

“Maybe tonight was lucky in the end.”

“Hmm?” he twisted to look at you and your heart softened even more when you saw his eyes were barely open. Smiling giddily, you pulled back to look at him.

“I just always thought bad things happened to me. But it’s not so bad ending up here with you.”

A hand scrubbed over his face in an effort to wake up a little more. Embarrassment already began to encroach as you watched his mouth opening and closing. Had you said too much?

And then he shuffled closer, all those thoughts dissipating like dandelion seeds as his hand brushed your cheek. His lips lay in a peaceful smile, and you couldn’t take your eyes away as he silently shuffled closer.

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Yeah,” you nodded, sound barely leaving your mouth.

Then his lips met yours.

It wasn’t forceful, quite the opposite. The kind of kiss that made you lean in for more, sweet and lingering, erasing any memory of what existed outside of it. Now his soft touch felt so real, so present and so… Jimin.

Hands ghosted across skin, hungry but tentative.

Time got lost around you as you gave in, indulging in each other until you lay on top of him, breathless as you paused. His eyes were smiling. He was always smiling.

Unable to believe Park Jimin kissed you, wanted you too, you stared at him, trying to soak it all in.

Another laugh passed his lips, joy overflowing. His arms tightened around your waist, squeezing you tightly against his chest, and a kiss was pressed to your forehead.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

You had to look back at his face then, just to check those words had actually passed his lips.

“Yes!”

The room was familiar, even though it was dark. Nothing could be seen but you knew you had been here before.

The woman had not moved. Was she still angry?

For the first time, the fire shows itself as more than just a glimmer lighting the wisened face. No, it is there, bright and dancing.

Taunting.

You can’t look away but it burns your eyes. That is not all it burns.

The woman’s hand reaches out, engulfed in the fire, and suddenly your silence bursts.

The fire is deafening, cracking like a monster walking on bones, roaring in its pain. Maybe the darkness is the smoke. It gets in your eyes, but you still can’t look away, can’t blink, and beyond the red beast, the woman in still there, voice finally loud and strong, surfacing in the brief moments through the blazing fire.

You can’t understand her.

But you understand she is not a friend. You know from the way her hand rises from the fire unscathed. She must be a friend to the fire, but the fire is hurting you.

You can’t move.

You can’t look away.

Smoke is in your lungs, fire clings to your skin.

You can’t scream but you need to, you need to get out of here, but no one knows you’re here, you don’t even know where here is, or how you got here, but it hurts, and she only wants to hurt you more, and-

Someone is shouting but it’s not her this time and it cuts through the fire. Then it stops and you fall back, darkness and blinding fire side by side-

“Y/N!”

Hands on your shoulder. The room is dark. Where is the smoke? Breath judders in and out of your throat. You cough. The hands draw back. The fire is gone too.

A dim light flicks on and Jimin looks at you. Propped on his elbow, he looks down at you where you lie on the pillow, other hand coming up to stroke down your face. You were used to waking up like this, alone, but now he was there and all you wanted was his warmth.

When you dived towards him, he folded you in his arms, holding you close as you breathed in his safety.

“You okay?” he spoke into the stillness.

At first, you nodded into his chest. Then you thought he might want a bit more detail about why you had woken him in the middle of the night, so you lifted your head. Nose-to-nose on the pillow, you explained.

“It’s this dream I keep having,” you whispered, “I always forget about it after, but it keeps coming back. It was… different, today.”

“What happens in the dream?” a delicate crease formed between Jimin eyebrows.

“I’m in a dark room…” your eyes wandered to the air by his ear as you tried to picture it, “there’s this woman there. And she’s always saying something, but I can never hear. And there’s a fire. Today she made the fire grow, and I could hear her for once, but I still didn’t understand what she was saying.”

“Strange…” he murmured.

“I know,” you sighed, shuffling closer to him under the duvet, “but let’s go back to sleep.”

“Not until I kiss you better,” he smirked, voice still husky with sleep as he rolled you over and planted more perfect kisses to your lips.

Quickly circling your arms and legs around him, you eagerly reciprocated. Your bodies fit together so well, both defying sleep as the kisses continued between your smiling mouths until the dream was well and truly gone from your mind.

In the morning, your phone seemed to have resurrected itself from where it was charging at the wall, and it decided to announce this loudly to Jimin’s entire apartment. Both stirring at the same time when the ringtone blasted across the room, you extricated yourselves from each other.

Jimin reached across for his own phone, groaning when he saw that it was already eleven and promptly flopping back onto the bed. You, on the other hand, abandoned the comfort of the warm bed in favour of making whoever was calling shut up.

However, just as you reached your phone, it fell silent anyway.

Opening it and scrolling through the notifications, you found it was Jungkook who had phoned. You had used Jimin’s phone to text them in the end yesterday, and they said they would come back from the festival early to let you in, so you supposed he was back.

Taking it off charge, you opened Jungkook’s messages, of which there were several from last night.

Before you could read them, though, Jimin’s ringtone started up. Looking up, you admired his muscular back as he twisted to pick it up.

“It’s Jin,” he frowned, looking to you.

Sitting back on the bed, you just shrugged.

“Hello?” Jimin greeted.

He was leaning back on one arm, but as he listened to whatever Jin was saying, he sat forwards, face growing serious.

“O-okay, yeah,” he said.

Startling you, he pushed the covers aside and pulled his wardrobe open, one hand still occupied with the phone. When he had pulled out a random pair of jeans and a shirt, he turned to you. He crossed the room rapidly, holding out the phone for you to take.

You stared between his face and the phone, then shook yourself and hurriedly took it.

“Jin?”

“Y/N, we just got back… I think you should probably come here.”

“Okay, we can come soon, what’s going on?”

“Um, well…” for a moment your heart froze as he paused, fearing what might be wrong. Jungkook could be heard faintly in the background.

“Are you still there? Jin?”

“There was a fire.”

Now it was your turn to be silent. You were aware that your boyfriend was undressing right behind you, but all you could do was sit still.

“What?” you choked.

“Listen, don’t worry, it’s going to be okay-“

“How bad?”

Another pause from Jin, and you knew he didn’t want to say.

“Most of the apartment is fine, it’s just your room…” you heard the soft creak of your sofa as he sat heavily, “just come here, okay? We’ll sort something out.”

“Y-yeah. See you soon.”

Shakily, you stood. Jimin was fully dressed, car keys already in hand.

It was exactly like Jin had said, but that still didn’t make it any better.

You knocked on the door, greeted with a lingering hug from Jin. He always gave those kind of hugs, like he was trying to hold you together with his own arms. From the outside, your place looked the same, but you could already see black streaks on the wall as you looked down the corridor, where Jungkook nervously licked and bit his lip alternately.

Yoongi and Namjoon were also there, trying very hard to blend into the wall. They took the first chance they could to join Jimin by the door as you stepped past them all towards your room.

Black seeped around the edges of your door. You felt numb as you pushed against it, swinging it open to reveal an unrecognisable space. Everything was completely ravaged by the fire, curtains hanging from the pole in rags, dark debris covering the floor and furniture stained darker than it was ever meant to be.

Your feet disturbed the dust of what was once yours, carrying you further into the wreckage.

Until a hand landed on your shoulder, you simply stood, paralysed. But then Jimin was next to you and you broke into his arms.

“The firefighters were here this morning when we got back,” Jin said, “they told us a candle set fire to your curtain and it started from there.”

You nodded.

That’s all you had been doing for a while since the lot of you had camped out in the living room back at Jimin’s. You had been huddled against him ever since as your flatmates made calls to the landlord, insurance, repair services and so on.

It wasn’t too severely damaged.

That’s what the general consensus was, and you could go back to living there after a couple of days unless any complications were found as they cleaned up the house. But for you, it was different. It was your stuff that had burned.

Even the photos in the hallway that burned, the only victims of the flames that had escaped your room, were all of you. For the thousandth time, you questioned if someone out there really hated you so much.

At least your friends didn’t.

They hadn’t expected anything of you, letting you stay silent and sorting everything out. Now that all anyone could do was wait, a lazy day was declared and the blankets made a return appearance.

Jimin invited his friends Tae and Hoseok, who were apparently also friends with his flatmates, and Jin went shopping with Namjoon, insisting on cooking later.

You had to admit, being surrounded by Jimin and your friends did lift your spirits. Taehyung and Jungkook had instantly hit it off, goofing around as crap TV played in the background. All the sweets you had failed to eat the night before came in especially useful for such a big group.

Jin’s food was excellent as always, and you had recovered enough by dinner time to notice something different about your friend.

“Did you see my messages last night?” Jungkook whispered, digging his elbow into you. You squealed, but he shushed you, looking around at the others.

It was getting dark, and you had all piled together for a film (not horror).

When the others’ eyes left you, you glared at your youngest friend.

“I didn’t. What is it?”

Beside you, Jimin’s arm tightened around your waist as he leaned forwards, resting his chin on your shoulder to hear Jungkook too.

“Yeah Kook, what is it?” he chuckled.

“Jin-hyung was on date!” Kook’s big eyes sparkled with excitement as you sat forward with a start, evicting Jimin from his spot on your shoulder.

“What?!” you whisper-shouted.

“I know!”

Spluttering for something to say, you grabbed Kook’s hands as you both bounced up and down on the sofa, Jimin hiding laughter behind his hand at the two of you.

“Who was it? How did you find out? Did he like them? Ohmygod!” you rambled.

Jungkook laughed, but supressed it quickly, smile full to bursting as he leaned forwards, barely containing himself.

“Namjoon-hyung,” he whispered.

Now Jimin’s eyes bulged from his head along with you.

“Oh my god.”

Satisfied with your reactions, Jungkook giggled as you and Jimin exchanged looks.

“Hush, you lot. And I would be careful – Jin and I are not the only ones who seem to have got up to something this weekend.”

Three pairs of wide eyes turned towards Namjoon, who was right beside Jungkook. He simply snorted a laugh, dimples making an appearance as he turned back to the film without another word.

You stayed quiet after that.

Jimin had to admit, your pessimism seemed to be justified.

From a roof tile falling on you, people spilling coffee on you, your keys vanishing mysteriously on the very night your apartment caught fire, unlucky would be an understatement. Now he sat in the library, mind drifting back to all the time he had known you.

The first time you had come round to study, he remembered staring in surprise at all your memory sticks. You kept so many on you, as well as saving your work onto enough clouds to make a storm, on top of keeping notes on paper.

Perhaps you weren’t just disorganised as you claimed. In fact, you seemed extremely organised, but you insisted your documents went missing all the time.

He placed down another book on the growing pile beside him, pulling the next one out.

When he had taken you back to your room after the fire, he sadly placed a row of charred pot plants in a bin bag. They were all dead anyway, you had said, I can never keep them alive.

Yoongi had come to the library too, under the guise of studying. If studying consisted of forcing Namjoon to let him into the staff room for unlimited coffee, then he was being very productive.

But when Jimin confessed his fears, Yoongi had also told him about you dreaming in class.

Only a few passing paragraphs had struck him as relevant so far in his quest for research, and the sky was already dimming outside. Only a couple more books sat on his left side, the books he hadn’t read yet. Sighing in defeat, he placed yet another book across to the right and pulled the largest tome yet over to him.

This one didn’t look like it had been touched in years, leather binding groaning as he heaved it open, coughing at the dust that spewed from its pages. But finally, he saw something promising in the contents.

Turning the yellowed pages, he reached his destination, instantly knowing from the illustrations that this was it. A full moon, just like the one outside the library window. A wilted plant. A spider-web of swirling black smoke.

Eyes devouring the words on the page, he eventually sat back. For a moment, he looked at the thin air in front of him, swallowing hard.

Then he sprung into action, pulling out his phone and snapping photos of the book. It shut heavily in another cloud of dust, and then it was away on the shelf and Jimin’s thumb was hovering over your contact as he rushed to his flatmates at the desk.

“I’ve found it!”

Namjoon mumbled something that sounded a lot like finally as Yoongi turned away from him towards Jimin. He was already calling you, wanting to meet up to share his findings.

The ringtone stopped, and he opened his mouth to greet you, only for your voicemail to speak first.

Brow creasing, he pulled his phone away and hung up, pressing call again.

Nothing.

“What is it?” Yoongi asked, but Jimin was looking past him. The moon hung so innocently in the sky, but Jimin’s veins were turning to ice.

“We have to go. Now.”

The week following such an eventful Halloween had been a blur. You were pretty sure tonight was the first time you had been alone since that night.

Jungkook was at home with his family for his brother’s birthday, Jin working late at the restaurant.

Jimin had been working in the library all day with his flatmates too, leaving you at your newly repaired house all by yourself. As per a yearly tradition, Jin had salvaged some pumpkins from his work that were due to be thrown out when pumpkin pie left the menu, but you were the only one around to carve them at the moment.

But you were bored. And there were plenty, too many if you were honest, and you were always terrible, so it wouldn’t hurt to practise before Jimin had to witness your shocking pumpkin art skills.

And this was how you ended up in the middle of a storm of pumpkin innards in your kitchen, wonky face leering from the unfortunate vegetable behind you as you looked around at the mess.

Having already slipped over once on the orange goo, you decided cleaning up took priority over improving your artistry. Setting the knife down, you bent down and scooped up the largest clump, a few seeds falling from your hands as you shuffled over to the bin on your knees.

Pushing your hair behind your ear and leaving a sticky orange clump while you were at it, you leaned across to another patch, right at the base of the counter.

But as you stretched out your fingers, a shape fell down your vision. Before you could even blink, you felt a sharp, stabbing pain in your arm as metal clattered to the tile.

Recoiling, you were met with bright red. The knife that had leapt from the side was the sharpest one in the kitchen, Jin’s pride and joy. Where it had hit your arm, aided by gravity, it had easily sliced into your skin which now spewed blood at an alarming rate as you jumped up, eyes glued to the injury.

Bandages. Clean it. Stop the blood.

Minor first aid had been drilled into your head since you were younger, given all the scrapes and bruises you accumulated. But now, as red spattered onto your kitchen floor, you couldn’t seem to remember the order to do things.

Where were the bandages anyway?

No, clean it. Yes.

Ripping your eyes away, you clutched the edge of the sink as you stuck your arm under running water. It burned like fire into your cut.

Snatching your arm back, you watched the pale red splash up the edges of the sink, now falling onto the counter too. Shit. Clamping your other hand over the injury, you squeezed it and hissed in pain just as the room wobbled around you.

Scratch all this. You needed to lie down.

Eyes set on the sofa, you stepped towards it, but you never made it that far.

In the brightness of the room, only one face is visible. A woman with age-worn skin is looking at you.

She is talking.

Fire blazes all around her, throwing her face into light, nearly erasing the wrinkles that cling to her.

She is louder than the fire, words you do not recognise spilling from her lips. You’ve heard this kind of thing before, though, and you know she is gifted. Her words carry the distinct sound of the language of magic.

Though you do not understand it, you know she is not a friend.

But her words change.

Within the hostile words, there is one you know. A name.

But it isn’t yours. Why are you here if she wants Eunji? Eunji is your grandmother’s name.

Before you can ask, the fire stops burning. Silence returns.

In the darkness of the room, only one face is visible. She is lit by moonlight.

“Why are we in such a hurry anyway?” Yoongi eyed his friend in the passenger seat as he chewed his lip, looking back at his phone for the third time in a minute.

“Something bad might have happened.”

Resurfacing from his blank phone screen, Jimin watched the light turn to green, relieved when Yoongi pulled away much too fast.

When they pulled up outside your building, Jimin had already thrown his seatbelt off, jumping out before Yoongi had even turned the car off. Frowning, he followed his friend as he ran to the door, nearly beating it down with the force of his knocks.

No one answered.

He had thought you could be just napping, missing the phone calls. Letting your phone die was a special talent of yours, anyway.

But no one could sleep through the racket Jimin was making.

Joining Jimin at the door, he looked around. Since you had been locked out, Jin had given in and had a spare key made to ‘save you from yourself’. Picking up a pot plant from the doorstep, Yoongi revealed the key, which Jimin instantly dived for.

“Y/N?” Jimin was running up the hallway.

Yoongi heard him gasp before he had reached the corner himself, but it made him speed up.

It was a good thing Jimin had panicked. Because there you were, out cold on the kitchen floor, blood flowing from your arm and a knife stained red lying nearby.

Yoongi already had his phone to his ear as Jimin crashed to his knees next to you, crying out your name and pulling you onto his knees. No response came. Looking wildly around him, he grabbed for a towel, rolling it up and pressing it into your arm where the blood still seeped out.

He barely heard Yoongi talking behind him as he swallowed down the lump in his throat, free hand cupping your face, running his thumb shakily across your cheekbone.

The paramedics didn’t arrive for too long. Then he blinked and they were everywhere, hands pulling him back away from you. You got lost in the water warping his vision.

But you would be okay.

That was what they said, but he could barely believe it when he walked into your hospital room at last, greeted with your eyes, awake and alive. Your sheepish smile, embarrassed at another mishap.

It felt like air had entered his lungs for the first time since it all left him when he had seen you on the floor some hours ago.

“Thank god,” he choked when his face was finally pressed into your hair, arms holding so tight you weren’t sure you would ever escape. Not that you would complain about that.

His lips found yours desperately, telling you how much he cared, how much he worried. Eyes fluttering shut, you returned the embrace, reveling in the feeling.

A cough startled you apart.

“Get a room,” Jin complained. It didn’t quite have the same effect when his smile wouldn’t leave his face.

“In case you hadn’t noticed, we are in a room,” you retorted.

Nonetheless, Jimin stepped back and let Jin hug you. Yoongi followed not far behind with a carrier of coffee for everyone. Jungkook had already called you, just before they all arrived, promising bucketloads of junk food when he came back.

“I thought I banned you from my good knives,” Jin fixed you with a stare as he sat down.

You avoided his gaze.

“The others weren’t strong enough for the pumpkin,” you muttered, aware of how stupid it sounded.

He just sighed.

“I’m just glad Jimin turned up when he did,” Jin squeezed Jimin’s knee, “how did you know to come anyway?”

“Well…” Jimin shuffled in his seat, “I sort of found something out…”

Looking to the other occupants in the room, you found their gazes just as blank as yours.

“What do you mean?”

Tugging his chair a little closer, Jimin reached out for your hand, enclosing it in his.

“I was doing some research. We all know you’re clumsy, unlucky and bad things happen to you a lot-“

“Thanks Jimin,” you said drily, eyebrows climbing your face.

“No, no! I still l- you know what I mean,” he sighed after you burst out laughing at his panic, “no, but seriously Y/N, I don’t think it’s a coincidence. I study curses, and all the signs are there. Dreams, bad luck, unlikely accidents. I found a book, there was this illustration about a particular curse, it matched the scorch marks from the fire at your place exactly. It’s an old curse, elders used it to wish ill fortune on a family line, and it relies on moon magic. And tonight was a full moon, and this happened, so…”

Staring back at your boyfriend, you were glad for the grounding presence of his hand. You hadn’t understood all of what he said, not knowing anything about magic yourself, but it was clear what he thought.

You were cursed.

“But-but my family aren’t cursed,” you spoke quietly, “you said it was a family curse-”

“A family line curse,” he explained, “it only affects one person, but it’s a curse bestowed on someone else in your family. Sometimes people want to hurt a loved one of the one they curse, not the enemy themselves.”

“That’s horrible,” you whispered.

“I know,” Jimin said, “and that’s why we need to break it. I’m sure I’m right about this, it all fits. I can show you the book I found, if you want.”

Nodding, you looked at your lap.

“How do we break it?”

“That’s a little more tricky…” Jimin admitted, pushing a hand through his hair, “we need to find out who cast it in the first place. That way we can unwork exactly what was done, since it’s a highly personal curse.”

“My grandma,” you muttered.

“Sorry?”

“I think it was my grandma.”

You eyes met Jimin’s. Greeted with his full attention, you took a breath and elaborated.

“I had another dream… or, at least, I think it was a dream. It was while I was passed out. It was the same as before, but, well, it was quite different actually. But the woman, she definitely said my grandma’s name.”

“Then you’re probably right,” Jimin squeezed your hand, “shall we give her a call?”

As the dial tone bleeped in your ear, you looked around at your friends. Although Yoongi had dozed off in his chair, Jin was giving you an encouraging smile. When your eyes met, he gave you a thumbs up. Grinning, you leaned back into Jimin’s arms where he sat on the bed behind you.

“Hello?” your grandpa’s voice finally greeted you.

“Oh, hi, grandpa, it’s me,” you smiled.

“Hello sweetie! How are you?” he asked, “your dad told us you had an accident today.”

“Yes, I’m fine thank you. I was wondering if I could talk to grandma?”

“Ah, sorry love, she’s out at the moment. Bad luck.”

Not funny grandpa. Bad luck was the exact thing you were trying to shake off.

“Okay,” you sighed, “maybe she could phone me when she gets back?”

“Hold on,” your grandpa’s voice grew more distant. In the distance, a door clicked. “I think that’s her now. I’ll get her.”

Suddenly, his yell of ‘EUNJIII!’ made you jump, hurriedly jerking away from your phone.

“Hello dear?” your grandma’s voice crackled across and you deemed it safe to return the device to your ear.

“Hi grandma. I have something I have to ask you.”

“Of course,” you could practically hear her smiling, but you felt yourself growing hot. How were you meant to breach such a subject?

“Um, were you ever, I mean, how-“ a deep breath, “are you cursed?”

Wow. Real tactful, you scolded yourself mentally.

“Oh!” you grandma laughed on the other line, “I see, dear. Any reason you’re asking.”

“Um, just, that, maybe, I might be sort of… cursed, too,” you winced.

“I mean, you are quite unlucky…” she gave an awkward laugh, but offered nothing more.

“Grandma,” you begged, “please tell me.”

She sighed.

“Okay. Yes, I was cursed. I never believed it though, but ever since you came along, I started to see the truth. Your grandpa knows all this too, but I never thought it would be so bad.”

“But we can break it grandma,” you encouraged, “it can be broken if we know why it was cast in the first place.”

“You can really break it?”

“Yes, grandma.”

“I’m so sorry, I never knew anything about all this magic, I just thought… well, I can tell you what happened.

“Y/N, the thing is... I’m bisexual. And when I was your age, I had a girlfriend. When her mother found out, she was very angry. Back then, people weren’t accepting like they are now, and she wouldn’t tolerate us being together. They were from a community of magic and she blamed me for ‘leading her daughter astray’, and tried to curse me, saying I would feel her pain when I had a daughter of my own.”

“Oh,” you breathed. That made sense. Your grandma only had one child, your father. So… “I’m the next daughter in the family.”

“Yes, my dear,” your grandma sighed, “so you see why I never believed her. She was just a hateful old woman, and when your dad was fine, I thought the curse wasn’t real. I’m so sorry Y/N.”

“It’s okay, grandma,” you told her, “I still love you very much. We will break it. Thank you for telling me.”

Magic in real life was nothing like what you had seen on TV. Well, you were doing a different kind, you supposed.

Jimin had a massive book on the floor in front of him, a row of dried plants beside him. Eyeing them, you took deep breaths. Jimin’s explanation hadn’t really made sense to you, so you just planned to go with whatever the process was.

You had understood one thing, however.

“Homophobic piece of shit curse,” you grumbled, picking aggressively at the floorboards. “This would be so much better if I had to kiss a girl, just to stick it to that woman.”

Smile tugging at his lips, Jimin looked up at you.

“Do you not want to kiss me?”

“Of course I want to kiss you, idiot,” you rolled your eyes, “I’m just saying.”

Chuckling, Jimin bent back over his book.

“Well, I think we’re ready. Then you never have to kiss me again.”

“No, Jimin!” you gasped, “I want to kiss you plenty!”

“Come here then,” he laughed.

Giggling, you walked to him and knelt in front of him, returning to the gorgeous familiarity of his kiss, his hands tantalising on your waist.

“Okay,” he panted, eventually drawing back, “that was a good practise. Time to do it for real. Are you ready?”

Nodding, you climbed off him and sat, mirroring his position cross-legged on the floor. At his reassuring smile, you closed your eyes.

You felt his soft palm rest on your forehead, and he murmured something. Though it was incomprehensible to you, it did stir something in you. Though your eyes were closed, your retinas seemed flooded with golden light, while something churned low in your stomach.

The hand stayed in place as the scent of lavender engulfed you, one of the plants Jimin had prepared. He spoke again.

Suddenly, the light flashed and disappeared, the world sinking into darkness.

One face is visible.

You know her, you have been here before, and she is still talking.

But now the smoke in the room is visible, light grey tendrils rising from burning lavender. There is no fire. The woman’s voice changes then.

The language of magic continues, but Jimin’s voice is sounding through the room, and another smell meets you, a herb you do not know.

You stay there for a while. Although you do not move, you are sure you could if you wanted. You aren’t in danger here anymore.

Her hand raises. She has done that before, but this time there is no threat. You are sure of it. You know it from the way light pools in her palm, warm, innocent, inviting.

You cannot look away.

Maybe you are floating. Something is pulling at you, and suddenly you gasp, tasting the herbs in the air. It feels like something is moving inside you. You clutch your chest, feeling something curling around your heart, fighting, and then it is rising and you are choking on it.

Maybe you are dying.

Gasping and spluttering, you find no air. But something finds you. A kiss like home, sweet against your lips, and when they pull away, air spills in.

A whisper by your ears, so close the breath moves your hair.

“Open your eyes.”

The room is light, and one face is visible. Jimin smiles.

“It worked!”

Tackling your boyfriend to the floor in a hug, you press your face into his chest. You couldn’t believe it. It was really gone!

“How do you feel?” he laughed.

“Great! Amazing! Perfect!” you couldn’t wipe the smile off your face, “I could do anything! I can have plants without killing them now, right! Jin might let me in the kitchen! Oh my god, I’m going to win a video game against Jungkook!”

Ecstatic, you watched Jimin laughing hysterically under you, joy written all over his face. It suited him.

Maybe now the curse was gone, you could do anything, but there was one thing you wanted more than all that.

“I love you,” you whispered, leaning down to kiss him.

Please please please reblog if you liked it, sharing my work really helps me out! Thank you for reading💜

[maaarine]

MBTI Typing Index: Fictional Characters — INTP ENTP INTJ ENTJ

Fictional characters: NF, NT, SJ, SP. Real people: index.

—

INTP

A Beautiful Mind: John Nash

(The) Big Short: Mike Burry

Black Books: Bernard Black

Breaking Bad: Gale Boetticher

(The) Bridge (Bron/Bron): Saga Norén

Community: Abed Nadir

Death Note: L

Devs: Stewart

Doctor Who: The 12th Doctor

Elementary: Sherlock Holmes

ER: Lucien Dubenko

Fight Club: Narrator

Genius: Albert Einstein

Halt and Catch Fire: Gordon Clark

Hannah Arendt: Hannah Arendt

Hawking: Stephen Hawking

Me and Earl and The Dying Girl: Greg

Moneyball: Peter Brand

Money Heist (La Casa de Papel): Rafael

Mr. Robot: Elliott Alderson

Ozark: Jonah Byrde

Six Feet Under: Arthur Martin

Skins: JJ

Skyfall: Q

(The) Social Network: Mark Zuckerberg

Suits: Benjamin

Tesla: Nikola Tesla

Watchmen: Dr. Manhattan

Westworld: Bernard Lowe

—

ENTP

(The) Aviator: Howard Hugues

Bridget Jones’s Diary: Daniel Cleaver

Californication: Hank Moody

Community: Jeff Winger

Doctor Who: The Eleventh Doctor

ER: Robert Romano

For All Mankind: Aleida Rosales

Friday Night Lights: Landry Clarke

Friends: Chandler Bing

Game Of Thrones: Tyrion Lannister

Gentleman Jack: Anne Lister

Gone Girl: Nick Dunne

Halt and Catch Fire: Cameron Howe, Ryan Ray

Hamilton: Alexander Hamilton

Harry Potter: Fred & George Weasley

(The) Hour: Freddie Lyon

House: Gregory House

Jessica Jones: Zebediah Killgrave

Jurassic Park: Ian Malcolm

(The) Last Kingdom: Aethelwold

Love, Victor: Felix Weston

Malcolm in the Middle: Malcolm

Mank: Herman Mankiewicz

(The) Martian: Mark Watley

Marvel Universe: Iron Man

Money Heist (La Casa de Papel): Palermo, Alicia Sierra

(The) OC: Seth Cohen

Six Feet Under: Nate Fisher

Stranger Things: Dustin Henderson

Suits: Mike Ross

Teen Wolf: Stiles Stilinski

This Is Going to Hurt: Adam Kay

(The) Tunnel: Karl Roebuck

Veronica Mars: Veronica Mars

—

INTJ

A Single Man: George Falconer

Another Country: Tommy Judd

Better Call Saul: Gustavo Fring

Breaking Bad: Walter White, Gustavo Fring

(The) Crown: Graham Sutherland

Death Note: Light Yagami

Devs: Katie

ER: Kevin Moretti

(The) Fall: Stella Gibson

For All Mankind: Margo Madison

Game Of Thrones: Petyr Baelish

Halt and Catch Fire: Tom Rendon

Harry Potter: Tom Riddle

(The) Hour: Randall Brown

House Of Cards: Claire Underwood

House of the Dragon: Rhaenys Targaryen, Otto Hightower

Jessica Jones: Jeri Hogarth

John Adams: Thomas Jefferson

(The) Knick: Algernon “Algie” Edwards

(The) Last Kingdom: Aldhelm

Masters of Sex: Bill Masters

Mindhunter: Wendy Carr

(Les) Misérables: Enjolras

Money Heist (La Casa de Papel): The Professor

Narcos: Jorge Salcedo

(The) OA: Hunter Percy, Alfonso Sosa

Ozark: Marty Byrde

Rome: Octavian

(The) Secret History: Henry Winter

Squid Game (Ojing-eo Geim): Cho Sang-woo

Star Wars: Galen Erso

Testament of Youth: Vera Brittain

True Detective: Rust Cohle

Watchmen: Ozymandias

—

ENTJ

Ares: Rosa Steenwijk

Borgen: Kasper Juul

Downton Abbey: Mary Crawley

(The) Dropout: Phyllis Gardner

Ex Machina: Nathan

Game Of Thrones: Tywin Lannister, Olenna Tyrell

Gilmore Girls: Paris Geller

Gone Girl: Amy Dunne

Good Girls Revolt: Finn Woodhouse

(The) Good Wife: Alicia Florrick

Halt and Catch Fire: Joe Macmillan, Diana Gould

Hamilton: Aaron Burr

House Of Cards: Francis Underwood

(The) Hour: Lix Storm

(The) Knick: John Thackery

Miss Sloane: Elizabeth Sloane

Molly’s Game: Molly Bloom

(The) Morning Show: Cory Ellison

Normal People: Marianne

(The) One: Rebecca Webb

Rome: Gaius Julius Caesar

Sex and the City: Big

Star Wars: Orson Krennic

Suits: Harvey Specter

(The) Thick Of It: Malcolm Tucker

(The) Wire: Stringer Bell

Westworld: Theresa Cullen

You’ve Got Mail: Joe Fox

—

Fictional characters: NF, NT, SJ, SP. Real people: index.

[cromwellharvests]

Top 100 results from the exhaustive version of that same test. (It actually turned out fairly similar, all things considered).

Rosalind Walker (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina): 88% Debora (Baby Driver): 88% Belle (Beauty and the Beast): 87% Penny (Dr. Horrible's Sing-Along Blog): 87% Anna Bates (Downton Abbey): 86% Glenn Rhee (The Walking Dead): 86% Rachel Chu (Crazy Rich Asians): 86% Deanna Troi (Star Trek: The Next Generation): 86% Hilda Spellman (Chilling Adventures of Sabrina): 86% Eliza Hamilton (Hamilton): 86% Linda Martin (Lucifer): 86% Mary Margaret Blanchard (Once Upon a Time): 86% Hernando Fuentes (Sense8): 86% Waverly Earp (Wynonna Earp): 86% Elisa Esposito (The Shape of Water): 86% Pam Beesly (The Office): 85% Samwise Gamgee (Lord of the Rings): 85% Beth March (Little Women): 85% Chien-Po (Mulan): 85% Valentine Wiggin (Ender's Game): 85% Belle French (Once Upon a Time): 85% Charlie Bucket (Willy Wonka & the Chocolate Factory): 85% Katara (Avatar: The Last Airbender): 84% Peeta Mellark (The Hunger Games): 84% Willow Rosenberg (Buffy the Vampire Slayer): 84% Maid Marian (Robin Hood): 84% Francis Mulcahy (M*A*S*H): 84% Alexis Castle (Castle): 84% Mamá Coco (Coco): 84% Annie January (The Boys): 84% Skylar (Good Will Hunting): 84% Samwell Tarly (Game of Thrones): 83% Iroh (Avatar: The Last Airbender): 83% Norma Jennings (Twin Peaks): 83% Friar Tuck (Robin Hood): 83% Marmee March (Little Women): 83% Bo Peep (Toy Story): 83% William H. 'Shakespeare' Hill (This Is Us): 83% Monty Green (The 100): 83% Mia Toretto (Fast & Furious): 83% Kara Danvers (Supergirl): 83% Doc (Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs): 83% Tracy Mills (Se7en): 83% Helsinki (Money Heist): 83% Dr. Sean Maguire (Good Will Hunting): 83% Elizabeth Burke (White Collar): 83% Chuny Marquez (ER): 83% Aimee Finecky (The Spectacular Now): 83% Ginny Weasley (Harry Potter): 82% Luna Lovegood (Harry Potter): 82% Arthur Weasley (Harry Potter): 82% Georgiana Darcy (Pride and Prejudice): 82% Jane Bennet (Pride and Prejudice): 82% Aang (Avatar: The Last Airbender): 82% Dr. Ellie Sattler (Jurassic Park): 82% Mrs. Hudson (Sherlock): 82% Ariadne (Inception): 82% Esme Cullen (Twilight): 82% Rebecca Pearson (This Is Us): 82% Sara Tancredi (Prison Break): 82% Dorothy Gale (The Wizard of Oz): 82% Dr. Claire Browne (The Good Doctor): 82% Annie Porter (Speed): 82% Sam Button (The Perks of Being a Wallflower): 82% Kala Dandekar (Sense8): 82% Céline (Before Sunrise): 82% Horatio (Hamlet): 82% Angela Montenegro (Bones): 82% Marianne (Portrait of a Lady on Fire): 82% Ally Maine (A Star Is Born): 82% Molly Weasley (Harry Potter): 81% Donna Moss (The West Wing): 81% Kasidy Yates (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine): 81% Ann Perkins (Parks and Recreation): 81% Beatrice 'Beadie' Russell (The Wire): 81% Daniel Jackson (Stargate SG-1): 81% Alice Cullen (Twilight): 81% Forrest Gump (Forrest Gump): 81% Ted Mullens (Schitt's Creek): 81% Oliver Hampton (How To Get Away With Murder): 81% Ben Hargreeves (The Umbrella Academy): 81% Bonnie Bennett (The Vampire Diaries): 81% Cameron James (10 Things I Hate About You): 81% Marie Kreutz (The Bourne Identity): 81% Dana Polk (The Cabin in the Woods): 81% Andrea Sachs (The Devil Wears Prada): 81% Jane Villanueva (Jane the Virgin): 81% Amy Antsler (Booksmart): 81% Penelope Garcia (Criminal Minds): 81% Juliet O'Hara (Psych): 81% Annie Reed (Sleepless in Seattle): 81% Benjamin Button (The Curious Case of Benjamin Button): 81% Hazel Grace Lancaster (The Fault in Our Stars): 81% Dobby (Harry Potter): 80% George O'Malley (Grey's Anatomy): 80% Frodo Baggins (Lord of the Rings): 80% Kaylee Frye (Firefly + Serenity): 80% Rita Bennett (Dexter): 80% The Oracle (The Matrix): 80% Meg March (Little Women): 80%