#spring festive fiasco

[orangepterodactyl]

happy new year (again)!

[wannabepoeticischiya]

if I can stop one heart from breaking

[ 09 ] — the vows

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He existed in the morning dew, in the afternoon haze, within the illusions of twilight. He was there. In the silence of midnight, in the wake of dawn... he was there.

Hoshina Soushiro was everywhere... except right here. He existed in every corner of the cosmos-just not in the space beside her.

Strings of lit lanterns painted the darkened skies with an aureate warmth, trembles of the people’s footfalls thrummed in the spring air, chatters drifting from one tent to another until they swirled to a whirlwind of sound and exploded like the occasional firework that brightened the sky.

“I thought it was a carnival?” [Name] looked at Soushiro’s embarrassed face from the corner of her eye, smirking to herself.

It was a good thing she had worn a yukata, dyed crimson as the eyes of her lover, embroidered with the flowers that bloomed with the season.

“Me too.” Soushiro sheepishly smiles, scratching the back of his head. The collar of his jacket ruffling sideways just a teeny tiny bit to reveal his stupidly tight black shirt underneath it.

[Name] laughs at his antics, finding it increasingly difficult to be angry with him when he was only trying his best—even if the ad he read the carnival from was a movie poster.

Soushiro laced his fingers with hers as they walked the stone path together, cradled under a hundred million little lights.

His shoulders felt unburdened now that he wasn’t walking on thin ice with the whole defense force fiasco. Soushiro was beyond grateful for her patience, for staying strong when he was close to giving it all up, reminding him that even if the world turns against him… she’ll be there standing by his side. The one holding his hand.

[Name] took in her surroundings, from the steam of the grilling stands to the laughter and banter of children as they tried to catch the fishes swimming in a pool using a paper scooper.

“Is this your first festival?” She turned to look at Soushiro who was already looking at her.

“You could say that.” [Name] shrugs, continuing to walk with her hands now behind her back, feeling his gaze drill at her from afar.

Soushiro might think he was oh-so discreet (not that he was trying to hide it in the first place) but [Name] could always feel his stare, even here where they were surrounded by a sea of people… she would know, simply just from the warmth bubbling in her stomach.

They stopped by a small stand selling strangely shiny apples, like they were coated in lacquer.

“What’s this?” She asks, picking up the object with the stick shoved into it, bringing it close to her nose to take a good whiff.

“It’s candy apple, princess.” Soushiro hands the vendor the payment for the candy that [Name] picked without paying.

“It’s candy?” [Name] raises a skeptical brow at him

“Mhm.” He nods, guiding her by the small of her back to a much quieter place.

They stood in an uncrowded space in between two tents.

Soushiro leaned against the tree as he watches her with a fond smile. [Name] remained looking at the shiny snack with wonder as though it was the next best thing since mont blanc.

[Name] leans forward to try the delicacy but always had to lean to one side to prevent her hair from sticking to it—even if she tucks it behind her ears, the stubborn little lock would still find a way to block her.

With an amused smile, Soushiro walked to where [Name] was. This time, he was the one to hold her hair in place, staying as he was until she got to experience the candy apple.

And when he saw the way her eyes twinkled in delight, as though a thousand stars were buried deep within those oceans of [e/c], only then did he move his hands to cage her cheeks between them, squishing her face. Her lips were coated in a thin layer of sugar, making them shine underneath the lantern-clad streets.

“Mama, look! They’re kissing before marriage! They’re gonna go to hell!”

[Name] quickly pulled away from Soushiro, the fires of her blood threatening to set the lands of her face crimson.

“Kikoru, don’t point. It’s rude.”

Soushiro caught a glimpse of blonde threads held up in a bizarre zappy way before the mother-daughter duo merged with the sea of people. He turned to look at [Name] who imprisoned her face behind the bars of her hands, he saw the tips of her ears shaded red, the stem of her neck dyed in the same color. She is so adorable.

“Hey,” he coos, brushing the stray stands of her hair away, prying her undeniably tight hold on her face. Of all the things that could have caused her to get flustered, it’s the yell of a kid that she and Soushiro were committing the sin that defiles chastity.

“The sugar is sticky you know, here.” Soushiro hands [Name] a wet wipe, laughing as she frantically cleans her face, perhaps even silently hoping that it’ll take her embarrassment away.

[Name] took a shaky breath in, looking at Soushiro with hooded irises that saw more colors than necessary, finding it increasingly difficult to focus on a single point.

The swordsman flashed her a grin, offering a hand for her to take. “C’mon, let’s check out what else they have to offer.”

[Name] mirrored his smile and intertwined her hand with his.

As they were carried along by the waves of people, drifting amidst their currents, not really having a specific destination in mind. Soushiro didn’t mind, so long as he was by [Name]’s side, he’d have gone anywhere.

He felt a tug on his arm, turning to see her looking at the accessories one stall had on display.

A palette of colors was scattered on the ivory sheet, ranging from the brightest yellow to the depths of the ocean hue. Chains of necklaces were flaunted on the little hooks that hung from the canopy; rows of arm bands were settled on their display holders; rings of all sizes buried into the cushions.

Cradled under the soft light, Soushiro wanted to tell her so many things, ask her the questions only she would hold the answers to. I love you, he would say, and she’d smile and hopefully reply, I know. He wanted her to know, more than anybody else… Soushiro didn’t want his feelings to be a secret to her. Buried in time as unspoken words of affection all because he didn’t know how to say them properly.

He could just picture it all:

What’s the happiest thing you’ve experienced? [Name] would ask, smiling brightly even as the grays of her hair littered her head, or the tightness of her skin began to sag over time.

Soushiro would pretend to think, just to tease her, but the answers were always hung on the tip of his tongue, Hmm… getting to know you, maybe.

Even in the lands of his daydreams, he still fails to say those words properly.

“Oh!” [Name]’s exclaim tore him away from his thoughts, “They’re selling mango cakes over there. Stay here, ‘kay? It’ll just be a minute.” She smiles at him, patting his cheek reassuringly before sauntering away to get in line for the desserts she loves so much.

“Your wife?”

Soushiro never once tore his gaze away from her, seeing her wave at him from all the way from where she was, and of course, Soushiro waved back at her.

The answer should have been easy: Yes, she’s my wife. Oh, what he wouldn’t give to be able to say that. To declare to the entire world that he was [Name]’s husband. But the words he spoke were tethered in longing…

“I wish.”

Because Soushiro understands that even if promises were uttered between the two of them, as long as their families did not plan their union… it was never going to happen.

It was a difficult truth to swallow, but Soushiro wasn’t an idiot.

Having her next to him and being by her side… was a blessing already. Meeting her, loving her in this life, lucky enough to be loved in return—asking for things beyond that would be…  

[Name] was a princess—she was everything… and he was nothing. Second to his brother. A failure. How could he give her a life worthy of her? He couldn’t even get into the force after graduating.

“Grant your own wish, boy.” The jewelry vendor stood next to him, tracing the lines of Soushiro’s stare to a young woman waiting in line for the cake stall.

Her smile was just as radiant as a certain yellow-haired defense officer he knows. Swept by another because he was too cowardly to tell her how he felt.

“You can’t leave it all to wishing and dreaming.” He says as he plucks an object from the display, “We give our best to the people we love even if we can’t have them.”

The old man smiles, with eyebrows as thin as paper, hair darker than the night sky, and a goatee that somehow suited him for his age.

“Let her see you, and all you have to give. If you can… if you’re able… show her you love her. Tell her. Never know when it’ll slip from your fingers.” His green irises shine in the faint light as he hands Soushiro the ring the woman was eyeing earlier.

The swordsman didn’t know why or how but the sadness creeping in from the corners of the old man’s face rattled something in his soul.��Regret, it registers. What an ugly color.

He knew it then, the pain of rejection would numb with time… but the bitterness of rue would never leave until the end of your days; stuck there, wondering what would have happened if you just done things differently.  

“I’m back! I got the last slice, isn’t that lucky?” [Name]’s cheerful voice flooded his ears and had him tearing his gaze from the dejected man to look at her bright, happy expression.

Tell her.

The words ring in his head, like some sort of runaway orchestra that circles the corners of his mind to remind him of the time he was wasting.

Never know when it’ll slip from your fingers…

“Were you talking to someone just now?” [Name] peers over his shoulders, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

Soushiro looks back only for an empty stall to greet his vision, a paper sign that reads ‘Be right back’ was placed on the table.

“Nah. Let’s go over there, we’ll see the fireworks better.” The swordsman takes the bag from her hands, holding her gently by the waist as he guides her towards the banks of the river. 

Soushiro glances over his shoulder, getting this overwhelmingly persistent feeling to do so. And when he does, the sight of his older brother meets his eyes, walking with a woman in tow.

Albeit faintly, Soushiro catches pieces of their conversation: don’t want to, and just cancel the thing, as well as leave when I get tired.

Not wanting to see any more of it, he focuses his stare forward. His brother’s business wasn’t any of his concern. If his goal was to blow through every woman in the force before he reached thirty, then that’s on him.

But Soushiro would never miss the name that escaped his brother’s lips as he addressed the vendor.

Ogata Jugo.

The canvas overhead was dyed in obsidian, lights of the city on the other side of the river sending all the stars away—casting the illusion that it wasn’t past twilight.

Soushiro and [Name] sat on a bench at a distance from the rest of the crowd.

Tell her, his head reminds.

Soushiro drums the pads of his fingers on his thigh, suddenly fearful to hold her hand now that his other set of fingers were fiddling with the ring in his pocket.

How would he even go about this? I love you. No, no—no, that’s too forward. I have loved you since the day I met you. That sounds a bit too cheesy. Can I kiss you—

Soushiro blushed a thousand shades of red, feeling the heat crawl from his throat to paint the expanse of his face the color of his eyes. Is there a way to say it without actually saying it?

He looks at her discreetly, gosh you’re so beautiful. Soushiro could cry right there, when the radiance of the distant lights paints her face, or the little sways her hair would do as they flutter to the melodies of the nighttime breeze, he thinks to himself… I love you. I love you so much… and it’s killing me that I can’t tell you.  

“[Name]…” He finds himself whispering, like he’d break and everything he’s been keeping to himself would flow if he spoke any louder.

She turns her focus on him, looking at him with such ardency that it threatened to shatter his resolve.

It would never be enough; he iterates in his mind. No matter how many times I say it… it won’t cover for all that she is.

“Remember those vows you said—”

[Name]’s eyes widened at his unexpected reminder, feeling her heart hammer against her chest, as the rush of her blood set her every organ on fire until they crept all the way to the horizons of her ears.  

“Please no, it was embarrassing.” She shook her head.

During one of the days of the winter holidays, Soushiro had magically found the paper where she had written her wedding vows. Gosh, that was so humiliating. He sauntered into the living room wearing this stupidly big smile, waving around a piece of paper like it was a trophy.

“Aww c’mon, I thought they were cute.” Soushiro grins as he faces her completely, not even bothering to hide the joy that came from teasing her.

Back when he found it, he got down on one knee… and recited the thing like it was from a Shakspearian play.

[Name] had to yank him up the floor or else he’d be the newest soap opera star of the estate.

“You think everything is cute!” She retorted, crossing her arms and refusing to meet his gaze.

“Only when it’s you~” Soushiro pokes her cheek.

Many moons ago, when he refused to be coaxed into obedience, [Name] was left with no other choice than to sit with him on the floor as he reads those words to her… or when she tells those words to him.

“What a flirt.” [Name] rolls her eyes and attempts to ignore his begging.

Words that were woven with such adoration, laced with the scent of ardor… dyed in the color of their love for each other.

“Say it, please.”

“No.”

“Just this once more then you can say it again at the wedding.” He bargains, putting his palms together in a pleading gesture.

[Name] stares at his face as those words leave his lips. Wedding, huh? It’s been so long since that event has been said in her presence that it feels like a slap to the face.  

“You’re not gonna stop until I give in, are you?”

Soushiro just smiles, while [Name] sighs from his antics.

They were as embarrassing as mistaking the son of a prominent figure to be an assassin sent from the lands of her geekiness. [Name] wasn’t ashamed… just shy.

She made them for him, after all.

Cradled under the stars, there was you and me Long after they all had passed, we still shall be Rivers of eternity will dry and the earth will crumble Evermore, it's me and you against all struggles

For Soushiro whom she loves more than anything else, who loves her… as much as she did him.

Golden starlight will never fade I shall hold your hand, we'll never be afraid Seasons change and the moon will wax and wane But the sun will dawn on us, and in forever we will remain

Hoshina Soushiro… and nobody else.

“I don’t—I can’t! It’s embarrassing!” [Name]’s face erupted in a flurry of vermillion, the flutter of her heart proving far too much for her to handle, so she opted to hide behind the walls of her hands.

“Boo… c’mon, my princess [Name]~ now’s not the time to be shy” Soushiro cheers, gently slithering his fingers through the gaps of her hand to hold them with his own… so he could carve the image of her in his mind.

“How about you say them, huh? See how you like it!” She challenges, glaring at him half-heartedly, far too flustered to mean it.

“Sure!”

And the face-splitting grin that magnetized his eyes to close had [Name]’s heart going into overload.

“Wait—”

Because right then… she had unknowingly given him the courage to build up the strength to convey the sentiments he had harbored for so, so long.

Winter will thaw, the flowers will bloom And our love will shine like stardust, warding off the gloom The leaves turn green and rain shall fall Everlastingly, my promises will echo in these halls

Just this once, tired of running around waiting for the right moment, or fumbling for the correct approach… Soushiro vows he’d say it.

And if the heavens turn against us and the midnight skies collapse Know I will fight for you, never let you near harm's wretchful grasp For if we are made an enemy of the lands Still, I will remain... holding tightly onto your hand

He cages her hands in his, mapping where her skin would sink and where it would rise to the mountains of her knuckles, the joints of her fingers, the bluntness of her nails. Everything.

Eternity awaits us, and I'll love you a little more And only beside you, in all my lives... will my heart soar

He looks her in the eyes, determined above all else, and with that, he slips the ring on her finger.

And [Name] is reminded of the weight of her lies.

I can't possibly tether myself to you... you who still have so much to reach.

When he slips the ring on her finger, she briefly wonders if this was what it was like to be married to him. To bask in his eternal adoration for all the eternities to come. If her future here and beyond would be littered with smiles and laughter should she have taken action instead of rescinding to fear and choosing to carry her family’s ambition.

I won't wish for that... so please at least stay with me for the time I have left.

If she could keep his heart afloat… even if hers would sink and never to return.

I want to be with you.

She wonders then, if she had rose to protest—to deny the fate they had set for her… would she not hide this all? Would she not feel this twisting sense of guilt knotting her stomach? Feel as the threads of her heart come undone at her deceit. She was not destined for him, not then and certainly not now.

Until it ends in spring.

And it hurt.

Until I'm forced away from you.

To have fallen for him when he was never hers to keep. To have promised love when it was never hers to give. To have thought of forever when the time spent together was momentary.

Just a little bit more... let me pretend I can be with you.

“I love you, [Name].”

To have his love… wasted on a liar like her.

Let me stay by your side a little longer...

But here, cradled under the light of the fireworks, [Name] selfishly decides she’ll hold on a little longer.

And—more than his first declaration of his love—it breaks her heart to see him so hopeful at the prospect of a future with her.

When all that was left of her to do was to shatter his heart at the reminder that she was not going to marry him.

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[anxiouslegacyplayer]

It was time to go back to Oasis Springs after the Festival's fiasco. To Chloe's surprised winter came! It started to snow as she took care of her crops.

[sayuricorner]

Ever After High x Twisted Wonderland AU Headcanons part 23: Spring Unsprung

Headcanons part 22         (Mini) special 7

AU concept

MASTERLIST

Warning: English is not my first language so sorry if it’s confusing.

Here we go for a new headcanons part! ^^

(I’m really sorry it’s taken so long, I’m going through a bad writer block recently! T_T)

For this part we will focus on the Spring Unsprung arc, have a good read! ;)

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-Springtime arrived at Twisted Wonderland and for the occasion the town located on the island organized a festival.

-Both NRC and RSA give their students two days without classes so they could go and enjoy the festival.

-This festival is also another occasion for both schools to show off to each other in baking, music, singing, fashion ect…

-Lizzie created a spring fashion line for the festival and in addition of Briar, Holly, Cerise, Kitty and Cedar(if the latter go to RSA), some of the NRC boys are also models for her line.(Who are the NRC boys who are models is up to whoever who use this AU)

-Like in the EAH canon, Kitty does some tricks, she even made some with Che’nya’s help, and calls her mother to show them to her to impress her only to be met with indifference and asked to do something REALLY big if she wants to make her proud.

-Meanwhile, Ginger wants to use wonderland water for a recipe for the festival but doesn't know where to find some, Maddie tells her that she could use the well in the school’s courtyard since it’s connected to Wonderland.

-When Ginger tried to get water from the school’s well, the bucket was strangely very heavy and Ginger was unable to pull back the bucket from the bottom of the well.

-Some other students came to help her and when they finally managed to pull the bucket, they were shocked to find inside the storybook of legend.

-The students quickly brought the book to Crowley at the festival, unfortunately, they got the bad surprise to learn that this was not the Storybook of Legend but a book of wonderlandian riddles.

-Like in the EAH canon, the students read the riddles in the book and get cursed into having a behavior opposite to their personality.

-Many of the NRC and RSA students were also cursed.

-TWST characters who got cursed:

-Ace: Is very cautious about how others feel and is worried about what others think about him at a very high rate and keeps his opinions to himself.

-Deuce: Is angry and violent all the time and very short tempered.

-Epel: Is very refined, acts delicate and cute and doesn't like violence and being dirty.

-Idia: Is very abrasive, confident and cocky.

-Sebek: Is lazy, easy-going and has no respect for Malleus.

-Kalim: Is rude and gloomy.(Which disturbed Jamil to the point of being like “NOPE! We must make go back to his happy idiotic self again!”)

-Grim: Had a very bad case of low self-esteem and cried very often about “being a failure”.

-Neige: Had an evil and wicked behavior.

-If it follows the “Apple’s Happily Ever After” path and Apple goes to RSA: both Apple and Neige are cursed with an evil personality and are partners for their evil plan.

-If it follows the “Apple’s Badly Ever After” path: only Neige is cursed with an evil personality.

-Things go downhill at the festival with the student's altered personalities.

-In the background someone, that no one noticed outside of a certain young narrator, couldn't help but laugh at the chaos happening and this person is revealed to be the Cheshire Cat.

-Turn out she was the one who put the fake Storybook of Legend in the well bucket to create a big mess in Twisted Wonderland.

-Back at the festival, the students who didn’t get cursed, investigate to find who’s responsible for the curse.

-They theorize that this could be the work of someone outside the island who would have found a way to get past the security system to enter the island and create this fiasco.

-So they use a detection spell to find any life energy of someone stranger to the island and find an energy who belongs to none other than the Cheshire Cat.

-Like in the EAH canon Kitty is delighted by her mother’s “prank” and when the others try to explain to her that the situation was anything but funny she gets upset and disappears.

-Che’nya decided to go after her to have a talk with her.

-Evil Neige’s (and Evil Apple’s if following the “Apple’s Happily Ever After” path) plan: erasing Twisted Wonderland of its wonder by plugging up the well in NRC to make the breach to Wonderland go away.

-The riddle book was even thrown away in a trash can in the town marketplace once Neiges' (and Apple’s) plan started to be put in motion.

-The plan is put in motion by provoking Deuce and making him angry and run after Neige (and Apple) and bring to the NRC courtyard to make him angry enough to make him use his magic to make a giant pot appear and  make it fall into the well to plug it.

-Back to the non cursed students, they try to appease the tense atmosphere but are completely clueless about what to do.

-This was too much for Brooke, who couldn’t stand seeing the characters desperate so she broke the 4th wall to tell Maddie that the riddle book disguised as the storybook of legend was cursed and the cause of this fiasco.

-So like in the Spring Unsprung canon the group searched for the book and found the book in the trash can on the marketplace.

-When they saw the dryness of no wonder beginning to curse everything, the group tried to fix it by getting the giant pot out of the well, unfortunately, the breach to Wonderland was gone elsewhere.

-Meanwhile, Kitty and Che’nya had a talk and the latter convinced Kitty that her friends aren’t distrustful of her and that the situation was going too far and something needed to be done about it.

-Back to the non-cursed students group, everything and everyone was trapped under the dryness of no wonder, everyone except the non-cursed students group.

-The Wonderlandians are immune to the curse and when the dryness of no wonder and the other non-cursed students from the group were saved by a spell of wonderlandian magic casted by the Wonderlandians students.

-Kitty appeared shortly after with Che’nya, Kitty also casted a wonderlandian spell on him to protect him from the curse, and decided to finally confront her mother.

-Like in the Spring Unsprung canon, the Cheshire Cat challenges her daughter and her friends at a puzzle board game, if Kitty manages to reach her the Cheshire Cat will undo the curse and damages.

-Through the challenge, Kitty was unsure if she would win but gained self confidence when she stared at her mother’s grin.

-Kitty then discreetly stared Che’nya with a complicated gaze and the latter grinned at her in agreement.

-With Che’nya creating a distraction, this gives Kitty the opportunity to reach her mother with her Cheshire powers and take her by surprise.

-Kitty’s mother is delighted by Kitty's devious thinking and instructs the group how to undo the curse.

-As the curse and damages were undone and many were freaking out about how they had behaved because of the curse, the Cheshire Cat announced something which stunned them all.

-”Congratulations! You passed the test!”

-As everyone registered what the Cheshire Cat just said, the teachers from both NRC and RSA suddenly appeared out of nowhere, in the chaos of the curses no one noticed that the teachers had disappeared.

-Turned out all this was a test, with the potential danger Milton Grimm and Snow White represent, the staff from NRC and RSA decided to make their students pass surprise tests to make them ready in case they might find themself in a dangerous situation.

-So they profit from the spring festival to put on a surprise test and contacted the Cheshire Cat to ask her to help them to put the test in motion, which she accepted ‘cause this was a great opportunity to cause mischief.

-The whole town was involved in the test and everything had been organized for the test to go without any problems and the teachers of both schools used spells to make themself invisible to observe how their students were doing and were ready to step in if things got out of hand.

-And since the whole town was involved in the surprise test, it has been asked to the town folks and any other visitors to not record and post anything which happened during the test online(who knows who could be watching after all, better be safe than sorry!).

-So the shock passed, everyone gathered to put everything back in order.

-Once the damages are undone, the festival goes on again and the students go back to enjoy it. The Cheshire Cat even told Kitty at one point how proud she had been of her accomplishments today, much to Kitty’s joy.

-But in all this joy and happiness one question remained in many’s mind: “where could be the true Storybook of Legend?”

-Back to NRC’s well, the breach to Wonderland appeared once again in it.

-In Wonderland, it turns out that the book ended up into one of the Wonderland’s rivers, until it got eventually fished up by none other than the Wite Queen’s daughter, Lily. (Not her official name in the EAH canon but since in the ‘Through the Looking-Glass’ novel the White Queen had a daughter named Lily, it will be her name in the AU).

-Elsewhere in Wonderland someone is having a talk through a mirror in an office.

-The person in the mirror was Milton Grimm talking to someone he is making a deal with to found the Storybook of Legend and bring the EAH transfers into a trap to make them, especially Raven, sign the book and “set things right again” and promised the person to give them anything they want once “everything is done”.

-The mysterious person turned out to be a very interested Courtly Jester who decided to accept the deal and make an alliance with Milton Grimm.

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[writinglizards]

Can I be Close to You?

Summary: Geralt's been dealing with Hanahaki for a while. Jaskier comes down with it, too. 

OR, what happens when you're in love with your best friend and your best friend (apparently) falls for another?

This one is for @witcher-and-his-bard both because she’s had a blah day and because this whole fic is her fault anyway. Hope you enjoy it, darling!

Read on Ao3

Witchers don't love. They may feel more emotions than they let on, may be fond of people and places and animals, but they don't love. Not like humans do. Hanahaki isn't something witchers get.

Except Geralt is, once again, proving to be a very stunning exception to every witcher rule.

It doesn't happen all at once. A cough here, a shortness of breath there. It starts after the fiasco with the djinn, when Geralt realized he really would do anything for his bard. As he parts with Jaskier in the fall and treks up the mountain pass to Kaer Morhen, he knows something is off, but what, he doesn't know.

He spends a long winter mostly normally. There's training and chores and long nights playing gwent. He still feels a little breathless, sometimes, but it's not getting worse, so he doesn't really think about it.

He coughs up the first petal on his way down the mountain that spring. It's delicate and butter yellow and just like that, everything slots into place. Hanahaki. Buttercups. Fuck.

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

Hanahaki is a slow death, everyone knows. How beautiful, to love so deeply, so completely that it consumes you. How tragic, for that love to be unspoken, unreturned. The poets, the romantics, love Hanahaki. It's the physical embodiment of that which they wish to put into words.

Geralt thinks it's fucking annoying.

For the few years following that first petal, it's...almost okay. He coughs, sometimes. His chest hurts, sometimes. He can't quite catch his breath, sometimes. But it's all rather rare. Jaskier hardly even notices, even when he's discreetly coughing petals into his fist. It hurts. It's fine.

Gradually, the coughing becomes normal. The petals get more common. It's no longer a single petal, but multiple ones. Partial blooms. Whole buds. He may be able to conceal the little buttercups still, but he won't be able to hide the illness from Jaskier much longer.

His chest hurts near constantly, the spring he comes down the mountain and knows Jaskier will find out. He'd been unable to keep it from Eskel this year and the look he'd given Geralt had been...painful. Upsetting.

Tell him, he'd said, don't make me lose another brother, Geralt. We can't do this without you.

They'll have to, eventually. There's no way Jaskier could ever love him, not like this, not like Geralt loves him--this fragile, delicate thing in his chest, slowly being consumed by flowers. Geralt wouldn't ask that of him, anyway, to love a monster.

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

They meet up on the path at a no-name village at the base of the Blue Mountains, like always. He's nervous this year--he doesn't want to see the look on Jaskier's face when he finds out, doesn't want the pity he's sure will be there in his gaze. Just thinking about it makes his chest hurt, fills him with a flutter of panic.

Jaskier's already got a room at the inn, as he usually does when he beats Geralt to the little village. Geralt knows because as he'd come in, the innkeep had tipped his head towards the stairs with a smile and Geralt had thanked him, ordered their dinner, and ascended the stairs with a curling warmth in his chest. The minute he smells Jaskier's blood on the air, that warmth turns to ice.

"Jaskier?" He's already pushing the door open and marching in, muscles tight with tension. He's not sure what he's expecting, but finding Jaskier bent over a bowl, vomiting tiny white flowers, hands shaking, isn't it.

Conscious thought clatters to a stop even as he steps forward, slips a gauntleted hand into Jaskier's hair to hold the fringe out of his eyes as he heaves, tears running down his cheeks. He hears his own voice as if from under water shushing and soothing, free hand rubbing gently at Jaskier's back.

When the fit seems to have passed, Jaskier shoves the bowl of bloody flowers away, leans heavily against Geralt's chest, breathing ragged. Geralt wants to ask so many questions. Instead, he waits, holds him upright, lets his breathing calm, lets him wipe the tears from his eyes.

"Ask," Jaskier rasps, not moving.

"Hm?"

"You want to ask, ask." He sounds so, so tired. Geralt wants to bundle him up in his cloak, take him back up the pass to Kaer Morhen, tuck him into his bed. There are so many reasons why he can't do that, but gods does he want to.

"How long?" Hanahaki's a slow disease. For Jaskier to be hacking up whole little buds, tiny unfurled flowers? This is advanced.

The smile Jaskier gives is sharp and painful. His teeth are bloody. "Six months," he says. And that's...that's too fast. It would have started just before the harvest festival and...fuck. Jaskier had been a little too pale, a little too quiet, hadn't he? Had Geralt really missed this?

"Jaskier--"

"I know," he cuts off, finally pushing out of Geralt's hold, crossing the room to the water pitcher. "I know. It's--I've always been one to fall hard, you know?" He does. "And by the time I realized, well--" he shrugs.

He watches as Jaskier rinses his mouth out, spits the now pink water into the ruined bowl, overly casual, and realizes...he can't do this.

"Who is it?" he asks, because he is not about to watch the man he loves die. Everyone loves Jaskier. Whoever this is the bard is pining for? They'll love him back. He's sure of it. They'd be a fool not to.

Jaskier stiffens. "I'm not--Geralt," he sighs hard, doesn't turn around. "Geralt, I'm not going to tell them. It's--it would upset them. It's fine."

"No," he grinds out, "it's not fine." He presses up into Jaskier's space, spins him with a hand on his shoulder. "I refuse to watch you die, Jaskier."

The look he gives him is painful in its hopelessness. It doesn't belong on his face, makes Geralt's chest tight. He can feel the tickle of a cough in response, thinks about how poorly timed a coughing fit would be right now and suppresses it, only just. "Geralt," Jaskier says, voice patient and still a little raw, "They won't love me back. Telling them would only hurt both of us. It's...I'd be okay. Dying for them."

"You shouldn't have to," he says, voice gravel rough.

"It is what it is, Geralt," he sighs, "I just--I just want us to have a normal year, okay? Just a normal year." Geralt hears what he isn't saying. I won't make it to the next one.

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

Despite his reservations, Geralt lets Jaskier talk him into setting out on the path. A normal year, despite the fact nothing about this is normal.

Those differences make themselves known long before the end of the first day. Geralt quickly realizes that Jaskier's lung capacity has been greatly diminished--he struggles to keep up with Roach at even the most relaxed pace, needs frequent and long breaks. Geralt's tempted to offer Jaskier his spot on Roach's back but he has a feeling the offer will be ill-received. A normal year would not involve Geralt catering to Jaskier's wants or needs.

Instead, Geralt deliberately slows their pace, takes frequent breaks, and doesn't point out Jaskier's wheezing or the exhausted way he collapses at the end of the day, even though watching him push himself like this is painful. As if to add insult to injury, he isn't singing, either. He still carries his lute, but it's clear his lungs are too burdened to accomplish even the most gentle of singing. It's...upsetting. And Geralt can see how it weighs on him.

The only silver lining is that Jaskier's so fatigued he doesn't catch on that Geralt's not quite well, either. He's frequently passed out cold when Geralt has his worst fits first thing in the morning, buttercups coming up in clusters, stems and leaves attached. And if his voice is a rougher, a little lower, a little more torn up? Jaskier doesn't seem to notice.

It takes them almost three times as long to reach the next town as it should and it's making Geralt jittery. There's no contract posted, but Jaskier looks bad and Geralt's worried. His own chest is overly tight, his own breathing much shallower than normal, but it doesn't matter when Jaskier looks ready to faint on the spot, too pale, too quiet. He spends the last of his coin from the previous fall on a room and a meal and hopes a day's worth of rest will be enough.

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

"Geralt? Do you have a contract?" Jaskier asks the next morning from where he's curled up in the single bed, groggy and hardly awake.

"No."

"Uh, okay...?" Jaskier yawns, which devolves into a coughing fit. Geralt's head snaps up from where he's sitting with his steel sword balanced on his knees, partially meditating. He's about to cross the room and do...something when Jaskier holds up a hand in placation. Geralt stills, watches with a sick feeling in his chest as Jaskier coughs and coughs and coughs. It subsides only when he spits out another fistful of tiny jasmine flowers into his hand, collapsing back on the bed.

"Okay?" Geralt asks, can hear the tightness in his own voice.

"Mm-hm," Jaskier groans, sounding anything but.

Geralt takes a deep, steadying breath in preparation to start the argument again--who is it, Jaskier? Let me help you--but Jaskier starts talking again before he can.

"Why'd you let me sleep in if there's no contract?" He sounds like he's been gargling with rocks. Geralt watches as he thrusts the balled-up fist of flowers over the edge of the bed, lets the bloody, torn things drift to the floor. They look the way Geralt feels--ruined, discarded. His own chest aches.

"You need the rest," he says. Jaskier tenses. Geralt knows it's the wrong thing to say but it's the truth.

"I don't need you to baby me, Geralt. You've never cared before."

That's not true, he thinks but doesn't say. He cares so, so much.

"Jaskier--"

"No," he cuts Geralt off, pushing up onto an elbow to level him with a look that cuts like a knife, "you don't get to do this to me. I choose this, Geralt."

"I--"

"This is where I want to be. On the Path." The with you goes unsaid, but Geralt can feel it hang in the air, the shape of it. He sucks in a breath that catches in his throat, throws him into a coughing fit.

"Geralt?" The worry in Jaskier's voice, the sudden tone shift, is painful. He wants to reassure him, but he's choking on buttercups and blood, stems and leaves. He hears him rise from the bed, stumble over beside him. Gently, Jaskier shifts his sword out of the way, sets it aside. He runs his hand down Geralt's back in a soothing gesture. "Geralt, what's--?" He spits the first of the flowers, still hacking. Jaskier goes very, very still. The hand on his back slows before balling into the fabric, grip tight.

"Ask," Geralt rasps between coughs, an echo of Jaskier's own words a few weeks prior.

"How long." His voice is hauntingly devoid of emotion. Geralt coughs again, chest aching as he brings up another bloody bouquet. He pants through it, gasping for air.

"Since the djinn," he breathes out weakly. Jaskier makes an awful noise.

"Oh, that's--" he cuts himself off, makes that same strangled little sound in the back of his throat again. "That's a long time," he says finally. He thinks Jaskier sounds strange, but his head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and it's hard to tell.

He doesn't respond, just focuses on calming his breathing. He doesn't want another coughing fit if he can help it. The back of his neck feels hot and he knows he's flushed with both exertion and embarrassment.

"I didn't know witchers could get Hanahaki," he says, voice still a little off.

"We don't," Geralt answers. His throat feels on fire, his chest hurts like he's been thrown around by a leshen.

"You do," Jaskier says slowly, "apparently."

"Hm."

It's silent for too long. Geralt finds himself staring blindly at the bloody little buttercups. This is it. Jaskier has to know.

The bunched fist in the back of his shirt eases, carefully. Too carefully. Geralt feels the strain in it. "We need to go see Yennefer," Jaskier says. His voice is also too careful. Carefully controlled, like it usually is when he's performing. Or putting on an act.

"Okay," Geralt agrees. He knows what Jaskier must be thinking--mages can cure Hanahaki, sometimes. It's...painful. Awful. Not something most people want. It's ripping a part of yourself away, the part that loves. Geralt's terrified of it, but he'll do it, if that's what Jaskier wants from him. He knows Jaskier must hate the idea of Geralt being in love with him, especially now that he's in love with another, no way to return it. Geralt's often been ashamed of feeling too much, but this is...worse.

"She'll fix this," Jaskier says, and Geralt can smell the salty tang of unshed tears in the air, "she'll fix this."

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

They spend the rest of the day at the inn. Geralt knows Jaskier's upset, but at what exactly, it's hard to say. He’ll hardly look at Geralt for more than the briefest glances and keeps himself well outside of casual touching distance, which is strange for the normally tactile bard. He's either upset Geralt kept this secret from him, or he's upset Geralt's in love with him. Probably both.

Despite the distance he seems to be forcing between them, he bullies Geralt into bed beside him for the second night, doesn't let him meditate or sleep on the floor as he'd planned.

"Geralt, I know mornings with this are worse when you sleep on the floor. Sleep on the fucking bed."

"What happened to 'don't baby me'?"

"Fuck you, witcher. Get your ass on the bed. And don't hog all the sheets."

They settle, finally. Geralt lays on his back, staring up at the ceiling, trying not to be hyperaware of Jaskier, curled on his side, back to him.

He dozes off, eventually, to the quiet wheeze of Jaskier's breath, a bubble of anxiety in his chest.

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

He wakes an indeterminate amount of time later to find the bed beside him empty and cold, the tremble of suppressed sobs and the salty tang of tears on the air. He lays very, very still.

"--'s not fucking fair," Jaskier gasps, sucking in a harsh breath that turns into a hiccupping little sob. "Fuck."

Geralt listens to the hitched breathing that turns into a round of coughs, the wet, hacking sound of little snow-white flowers leaving Jaskier's lips. The way he tries to muffle the sobs, the coughs, with a hand over his mouth. Geralt feels cold. He hates that he's done this to Jaskier, made him this upset. He wishes he could take it back, keep this awful, painful love to himself. Jaskier shouldn't suffer because he can't return what Geralt feels.

After the third coughing fit in the last fifteen minutes, Geralt gives up the pretense of sleep and rouses, rises from the bed.

"'m sorry," Jaskier croaks when Geralt rubs his back, pours him a glass of water from the pitcher. It hurts that Jaskier thinks he needs to apologize. This isn't his fault, after all.

"Back to bed. We've still got a few hours." Jaskier follows, quiet and subdued. He's exhausted, eyes red-rimmed and cheeks still wet.

They settle, that sliver of space between them as always. Geralt's just starting to drift when--

"Geralt?"

"Hm?"

"Um--" he trails off. Geralt cracks his eyes open, tips his head to look at Jaskier. He looks miserable. Tired. "--nevermind."

"What do you need, Jask?" he asks, quiet.

"Hold me?" he whispers, eyes fixed firmly on the edge of the sheet. Geralt's heart clenches. "I know it's not fair to ask that of you, but--"

"Come here," Geralt says, voice rough. Jaskier shuffles over, awkward. Geralt curls his arm around Jaskier's back, tugs him over so his head rests on Geralt's chest, ear pressed just above his too-slow heartbeat. He settles his hand on the curve of Jaskier’s hip, tries not to enjoy holding him too much--it’s about comfort, not Geralt.

They're still and quiet for a beat. "Thank you," Jaskier mumbles, voice thick with something Geralt can't name. "I know it's not--just. Thank you."

"Shh. Sleep."

They do.

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

They leave the inn bright and early, after only a single round of awful coughing on Geralt's part. Jaskier's stiff and rigid, watching him hack up the flowers, and Geralt hates that Jaskier knows. This was so much easier to bear when there was still a ghost of a chance he returned Geralt's affections. Now--

"So how are we going to find her?" Jaskier asks, during one of the numerous breaks early in the morning.

"We're not," he says. Jaskier opens his mouth to protest, brow pinched in unhappiness. Geralt speaks again before he can get the words out, "We're going to see Triss. She'll know how to find Yen."

"Oh," he deflates. "Don't you, I don't know," he gestures vaguely, "have some magic way of getting ahold of her?"

"A xenovox?" He asks. Jaskier makes a 'whatever' kind of noise that makes Geralt's lips twitch in the ghost of a smile. "No. Triss does, though."

"Ah." He doesn't looks happy, per se, but-- "Okay."

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

"Yes, I can get ahold of her for you," Triss says when they track her down. She's still in Temeria, still serving the king. "Or at least, I can leave her a message. She doesn't much care for answering, usually," she laughs.

"Hm." That sounds like Yen.

"Tell her it's urgent," Jaskier pipes up, expression pinched.

"Is there anything I can do? If it's urgent, I mean."

Triss might actually be the better option, Geralt thinks, if he wants this love torn out of him. She's a healer; he knows first hand she has quite the skill. He could--

"No," Jaskier's already shaking his head, "we appreciate your offer, Triss, darling, but it's got to be Yennefer." His voice is strained. He coughs, a tiny thing he suppresses with difficulty. Geralt can hear him holding his breath to stave off the fit.

"Yes," he agrees slowly. He's...not sure why Jaskier's so insistent on it being Yennefer. They don't even like each other, and he's always liked Triss well enough. "Sorry, Triss."

She corners him before they leave. "He's not well." She'd obviously taken notice of the coughing.

"I know."

"I can--" she winces, gestures vaguely. She's offering to tear it out, the love. He knew she'd be the better bet.

"You can ask him, Triss, but I don't think he wants that. He told me he was...okay. Dying for them."

She makes a strangled noise. "Geralt--"

"We're not talking about it."

She's quiet for a long time. "At least take this." She shoves a bottle of something dried at him, "it won't fix anything long term, but it will help. Mix it with some tea." He takes the little bottle, tucks it into his things.

"Thank you, Triss."

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

Geralt's still trying to figure out where to go from here when Yen tracks them down at an inn they've been staying at a few weeks later. He's just finished an easy drowner hunt and they're planning to pack in the morning. The dried herbs from Triss have helped, but they're not a miracle cure. And Jaskier refuses to take them unless Geralt does too.

"Now what about this is urgent?" she asks, stepping out of the crowd to settle at their table beside Jaskier without invitation. The bard splutters, choking on his ale. It sends him into a coughing fit. His hand flashes out across the table and Geralt reaches back automatically, lets him grip him hard as he shakes his way through the hacking. Yen watches silently, eyes wide.

"Shh," Geralt soothes, slips up from his seat to crouch beside Jaskier when he doesn't recover quickly enough, hands still linked. They're starting to draw attention, so Geralt uses his bulk to shield Jaskier from the scrutiny of the room, "it's okay, Jask." Geralt doesn't breathe easy until Jaskier spits up the little fistful of bloody jasmines, panting.

"Oh," Yen says, voice strange.

"'M not--" Jaskier breaks off, clears his throat, grimacing. He flexes his grip around Geralt's hand once before letting go, "It's not about me."

"It should be," she says. Her gaze cuts over to Geralt, the look in her eyes hostile and reprimanding.

"No, Yennefer--" he starts, gaze jumping fast between her and Geralt, "can I talk to you? Alone?" Geralt startles, tries not to show it. Yen glances up at him where he's still standing.

"Go, Geralt. Your bard and I need to have a talk."

"Hm," Jaskier won't look at him, "I'll go check on Roach."

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

He takes his time brushing her down for the second time that day and forces his mind quiet, focuses on getting her hair all laying the same direction. He's...not trying to listen for the swirl of their conversation in the mix from the tavern. It just...kind of happens.

"Jaskier--"

"He knows and he doesn't feel the same, Yennefer. It's...fine."

"He's an idiot, bard. Did you--"

"No, doesn't matter."

"Then why--"

"He's in love with you."

Geralt's focus breaks when his breath catches and dissolves into another coughing fit. The buttercups are painful little reminders, bright and beautiful, even splattered in blood. He gathers them up, tucks them into his pouch for a lack of anything else to do with them. Jaskier thinks he's in love with Yen? Why--

"Geralt," Yen hums, appearing as if summoned by his thought (she very well might be).

"Yen." He turns to face her, leans his weight against the door of Roach's stall. He's still a little short of breath, knows he looks a sight.

She sighs, long-suffering. "I'm only going to ask you this once--why do you think your bard wanted me here?"

He's...not sure what game they're playing here. "He's...unhappy. With me." Her expression pinches and he can tell she's hanging on to her patience with him by a thread.

"Why?"

"Because--" he sucks in a deep breath, hates that he has to say this out loud, "--because I'm in love with him, and he's in love with another," he finishes quietly.

She makes an awful noise, patience snapping, "And how do I factor into that, Geralt?" She's pissed, but Geralt's not sure who at, honestly.

"He wants the Hanahaki gone...doesn't he?" He can't help make the statement a question. Yen looks like she's going to strangle someone (maybe him).

"You're both fucking idiots," she seethes, "and I would normally refuse to have anything to do with this but I promised your fucking bard, so--" she gestures viciously behind her, "lead the way to your room, witcher."

Geralt does, feeling like he's missing something.

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

When they make it up to the room they're renting for the night, Jaskier is there, looking drawn and highly uncomfortable.

"Yen, I told you I didn't need to be here," he mutters. He won't meet either of their gazes.

"No," she says, voice firm, "you do. Now, Geralt," she turns on her heel to face him, "the only way to get rid of Hanahaki--no, don't interrupt me, we're not doing that--the only way to get rid of Hanahaki is to confess your love to the person the flowers are for." He shifts his weight, gaze jumping to Jaskier whose eyes are still downturned, before settling back on Yen. "Who are your flowers for, Geralt?"

He feels breathless, like he might be about to have a coughing fit again. "I'm--"

"I told you they're for you, Yennefer. Don't make him say it. Please."

"Jaskier, I told you to be quiet," she snaps, "who are they for Geralt?" Her gaze never leaves his, a sharp, angry challenge.

"They're not for you," he tells her. It's obviously not quite what she wants to hear, from the way her scowl deepens.

"You're fucking impossible," she tells him, the same time Jaskier makes a harsh little yelping sound. Geralt's gaze snaps to him.

"Geralt, you can't--" he's scrambling up, crossing the room, "you have to tell her, Geralt, or you'll die. Don't make me watch that." The scent of his worry, his panic, is heavy on the air, sour milk and fruit gone rotten. "She'll love you back, Geralt. It's okay."

His chest hurts. It's only partly from the coughing. "Jaskier--"

"Geralt, where are they? Your little flowers?" Reluctantly, he pulls the little handful of buttercups from his pouch, not sure where she's taking this. "Jaskier, they're buttercups," she says, tone harsh. He just makes a painful little noise.

"I know," he says, voice strained, “It’s hardly fair, is it?” His tone is light but obviously forced. Yennefer sighs, changes tactics.

"Jaskier, who are your flowers for?" She asks, gentle. He makes another little noise.

"Yennefer--"

"Did he tell you what he thought you wanted? Why you wanted him to see me?" She doesn't wait for an answer, "he thought you wanted his Hanahaki gone, Jaskier. Ripped out. He was going to let me do that."

"What? Geralt, I wouldn't--why would I--?" There are tears brimming in his eyes, "I'd never ask that of you, Geralt. Why would you think I would?"

"Why do you think I love Yen?" he asks in return. Yen makes a disgusted sound.

"This is enough. Figure yourselves out; I'm leaving. Don't have Triss call me again unless it's a real emergency." In the next breath, she's stepped through a portal. Gone.

"Geralt?" Jaskier's quiet question draws his attention back. He looks-- "Geralt, who is it?"

"Who else would it be?" he finds himself saying, "They're buttercups, Jaskier."

"I thought--" there are tears rolling down his cheeks, "I thought it was so cruel. For destiny to give you buttercups."

"I'm sorry," Geralt murmurs, reaches up to brush the tears away, "I know you don't--"

"You idiot," Jaskier laughs, a wet sound, "mine are for you, too."

Geralt feels the tightness in his chest fade, like heat leeching away in the cold. He hadn't realized how oppressive the blooms had become until they were gone.

He doesn't know what to do with Jaskier looking at him so full of love and relief. It's overwhelming and he can't help himself--he pulls him in for a kiss, slow and gentle, arms around his waist. Jaskier's fingers slip up into his hair, tilt his head to a more satisfactory angle. They only break when their lungs begin to burn, and then it isn't to go very far. Jaskier presses lingering kisses to his cheeks, his jaw, his throat. Geralt shivers.

"I'd always known you'd kill me, darling," he breathes. Geralt slips his arms a little more securely around his waist, presses a palm flat to the small of his back, kisses down his throat to the open vee of his doublet and the ties of his chemise, temptingly on display.

"'M sorry it took me so long," he says, voice low. Jaskier presses closer in his embrace, winds his arms around his neck. "I was so afraid--"

"I know," Jaskier cuts him off gently, tugs him up for another kiss, slow and unhurried. "I know." When they pull away, Jaskier cups his face in his hands, rubs his thumbs across the arch of his cheekbones, "I was terrified too, love. What a pair we make, hm?"

Geralt hums in response. Jaskier laughs.

"Love you too, darling." He says it light and teasing, but the flowers, the look in his eyes, belie how much he means it.

Geralt swallows hard. "You too," he says, voice rough. He clears his throat, tries again, "I love you too, Jaskier." It comes out a little stilted, but the look on Jaskier's face--

He tugs Geralt down into another kiss. "You're entirely too sweet," he murmurs against his lips. And well. Maybe it's not so bad, loving Jaskier when that love's returned. He presses him backward towards the bed, listens to the delighted burst of laughter Jaskier makes as the back of his knees hit the mattress and he collapses backward, dragging Geralt down with him.

No, it's not so bad at all.

[2manyfandoms2count]

Poisson d'avril

Here, have a half-baked April Fool’s Day fic my brain decided to wake me up for. For context, one of the most popular jokes for April 1st in France is taping paper fish to each other’s backs, the more original the fish the better (my childhood is filled with trying to sneak behind teachers' backs to tape one on them; they were very chill about it, tbh). Poisson d’Avril is also what you say at the end of a joke on that day (think "sike", but festive). More about this great tradition that apparently dates back to at least 1466 here.

Hope you enjoy!

Read on AO3

---

Marinette loved April Fool’s Day at Françoise Dupont. The school was always buzzing with little pranks at that time of the year, the blooming spring giving a wonderfully cheerful backdrop to the shenanigans the collégiens were up to.

These were all very light-hearted, if sometimes a little elaborate.

As usual, some students had been found early in the morning in the classrooms, thwarting their attempt to recreate the legendary horizontal fiasco of 20XX, where everything had been set up to look like the rooms had been flipped by 90°. Mr Damoclès had let them go mercifully, thankful that the students hadn’t been tempted to glue everything to the ceiling in an effort to one-up their predecessors. Somehow, he wouldn’t have put it past Kim and Alix to try and coordinate the project, as a last hurrah before heading on to lycée.

There were also seemingly well-meaning classmates offering chouquettes or donuts in the courtyard, which Marinette knew to stay well away from, knowing the former were likely sprinkled with coarse salt, and the latter filled with the likes of mayonnaise instead of jam. She’d been in their shoes a couple of years prior, building her classmates’ trust by bringing them the sweet delicacies every day for a week, and switching on April 1st as a joke.

Heading to class, she heard a lot of laughter, people telling jokes, or trying to see how far they could take a story without it being called out on it (this year, Nino had Kim panicking over a brevet exam part they supposedly had, which was a step down from the previous year, where he’d convinced him that everybody needed to come in dressed up in medieval costumes, and that he’d landed the court jester role; his friend had turned up the next day in a full outfit, complete with bells on his hat and shoes, and upon discovering the deception, had decided to make good use of them and make the joke everybody’s problem).

However much she enjoyed those kinds of pranks, though, Marinette’s favourite remained the classic poisson d’avril: taping paper fish to people’s backs. It was something anyone could take part in, as a predator or a prey, with or without premeditation. You didn’t necessarily need scissors and tape, if you managed to steal some from somebody else’s back.

Marinette liked to take it seriously. Done right, the exercise demanded stealth she’d had even as a little kid, and had honed ever since being chosen to become Ladybug, as well as creativity she had piles of. She’d stayed up the previous night, making plenty of fish varying in size and colour, some tailored to her friends, like the Rena Rouge and Carapace ones that were intended for Alya and Nino respectively. She’d of course also made the rest of the Miraculous team, as well as some other designs based on Kitty section, her classmates, or celebrities.

As always at the end of the day, Rose walked around with a whole school on her back. It wasn’t clear if she was completely oblivious to it, or if she knew what was going on but enjoyed the giddy giggles of the people who managed to add an extra fish in, or take one off.

The only person who’d managed to escape the prank so far was Adrien, and it wasn’t for lack of trying. Kim, Alix and Nino had gone to great lengths to get at least one fish on his back, even recruiting Markov to sneak behind him, but the boy seemed to have a sixth sense.

No sooner did he hear the faintest of ruffles, that his head would jerk up, eyes darting around to figure out where the sound had come from, thwarting any efforts, no matter how elaborate they’d been.

Marinette had been reluctant to target Adrien, despite having a special fish for him, complete with his stripes and an orange-tipped tail, but as the day went by and more people joined the challenge to trick him, she felt the urge to compete rise in her chest and started unwillingly tracking his every movement, trying to find a breach in his focus.

It was a fastidious process, even for someone who enjoyed watching Adrien happily live his life, but it paid off around the end of the day, just after the last bell.

Marinette noticed that Adrien’s shirt looked a little rumpled around the back as they were retrieving books from their lockers, and approached him calmly.

“Adrien?” She announced her presence when she was right behind him, surprised that he hadn’t turned around yet. He almost jumped out of his skin at the sound of her voice.

“Marinette!” He yelped, a hand flying to his heart. “Sorry, I didn’t hear you approach.” He chuckled nervously.

“No, I’m sorry I scared you!” Marinette looked down, apparently sheepish. In truth, she was cursing inwardly at the missed easy opportunity. Adrien had been at ease with her coming closer, which she assumed was because it was the end of the day and he’d started letting his guard down; she could have gone about her business and he would’ve been none the wiser. She shook her head; it didn’t matter, she’d just go on with her original plan. “It’s just that… well, it’s stupid, but the back of your shirt is a little creased, and I know how important your appearance is to your family so… Do you mind if I fix it?”

“Thanks Marinette, that’d be awesome.” He smiled at her in a way that would have made her lose her cool, had it been any other day. But she was on a mission, and there was no way she was letting the opportunity of pranking Adrien when nobody else had managed the feat go by.

“Okay, let me just…” Marinette reached into her purse and took the first piece of paper she felt, before gently taping it to Adrien’s shirt, making sure to smooth the fabric at the same time so he wouldn’t realise what she was doing.

“There, all done!” She smiled when she was satisfied the tape had adhered well enough.

He smiled back at her, but was interrupted in his thanks by Nino and Alya calling for them to hurry up.

“Today was really fun, I’m so glad I got to experience it first hand,” Adrien beamed as the group walked out of the building, Nino and Adrien a little ahead of the girls. “And I’m really proud that I survived it without getting pranked!”

Marinette bit back a laugh, eyes darting to his back.

“I wouldn’t be so confident, Sunshine,” Alya replied, untaping the fish from his back and handing it to him.

“What…” Adrien stopped in his tracks, looking at it, and particularly Marinette’s signature on the back of the piece of paper, in disbelief. He turned around with a look of mock betrayal. “I can’t believe you’d do this to me!” He pouted.

“I couldn’t just let you off the hook,” she shrugged with a small smile, making a mental note to reuse the phrase with Chat Noir when she saw him later. He’d enjoy the pun.

Adrien let out a small chuckle as he turned the fish around, but the sound died as he saw the pattern. The colour drained from his face and he froze as he took in the black and green colour scheme and the fish’s whiskers.

“Adrien? Is everything okay?” Marinette frowned, noticing his change in body language.

“Yeah, um… Can I talk to you for a second?” He looked up at her.

“What a great idea!” Alya pushed Marinette towards Adrien before hooking her arm through Nino’s and starting to go down the stairs. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow!”

Marinette thought she heard her add “Can you believe they might get together over an April Fool’s joke?”, as she waved them off absentmindedly, but her gaze met Adrien’s troubled one and she decided she’d deal with her best friend later.

“What’s up?” She asked, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks; the adrenaline from succeeding her challenge was evidently starting to wear off.

“What’s this?” Adrien asked cautiously, handing her the fish.

Marinette took it cautiously, saw the pattern, and smiled. “It’s a poisson-chat noir,” she said proudly. It was a bit of a shame she’d picked that one for Adrien, but she guessed she couldn’t have kept it for her partner anyway, given that she’d signed it. Still, she thought he would have liked the joke. Especially if it came from Ladybug.

“How did you know?” he murmured, looking at her incredulously. She tilted her head, raising her eyebrows at his cryptidness. He explicited his thoughts. “I saw the fish you gave Alya and Nino, and the one you managed to pin on Chloé; they were all references to their superhero selves. And now you get this one right as well… How did you know?”

It was Marinette’s turn to freeze and feel the colour draining from her cheeks. “I… I didn’t. I picked one randomly when I saw an opening.”

“Oh.” She saw the cogs turning in Adrien’s brain while she felt her own shut down, still processing one important piece of information.

“Adrien… Are you Chat Noir?”

“Um… Poisson d’avril?” He ventured.

“Adrien.” She repeated sternly.

“Okay, fine, you got me.” Adrien huffed, raking a hand through his hair. “Please, don’t tell Ladybug.” He pleaded.

“Too late, I’m afraid.” She dug out her poisson-Ladybug and taped it to herself. She saw Adrien’s eyes grow as wide as his smile before being engulfed in a hug and feeling his lips on her forehead. “Kwami, we really might get together over an April Fool’s joke,” she muttered against his chest. If the heat she felt at the tip of her ears said anything, she probably was as red as Ladybug’s costume, and it probably wouldn’t go unnoticed.

“What was that?” Adrien pulled out a little from their hug to look at her.

“Nothing.” She smiled, and took his hand. “Now come on Chaton, we have some things to discuss, and we should probably go somewhere more private.”

“You know I’d follow you anywhere, my Lady.” He picked their entwined hands and kissed hers.

Really, she thought as they made their way towards her parents’ boulangerie, she loved poissons d’avril.

[7wanderingpaws]

Captain Bucheon 01

(gif is not mine)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader (Lee Nari)

Genre: policeman AU; enemies to lovers AU 

Warnings:  langauge

A/N: First chapter! Yay! Super excited! Also, the feedback I got for the prologue - THANK YOU SO MUCH. Im super excited and happy and grateful. Hope you will enjoy this one! ^^

story masterlist masterlist

: prologue

>>>First<<<

Loud screeching was what woke you up. Thundering of footsteps down the corridor made you groan and turn in bed because for god's sake, it was Saturday morning and they just had to be loud at 10am!

Your roommate, lying in the bed just four feet next to yours, stirred awake too, though considering her eyes were fully open, she must have been up for a while now. “I’m glad it’s them waking you up and not me.”

You sighed and managed to smile but you were tired. Life in dormitories sucked, but yours even more so since you were assigned probably the worst dorms in the campus. Having to share bathroom and shower rooms made you leave your comfort zone. But finding toilets in the terrible state you did just purely horrified you. Why weren’t some girls flushing the toilets?!

“You know very well I won’t kill you if you wake me up, Yuyeon-ah,” you mumbled, your voice hoarse. Having Yuyeon as your roommate was the only positive aspect of the dorm life. Some would argue it’s the most important one but you were selfish and you wished you had a private bathroom like the other, more advanced, dorms had. There wasn’t even a kitchen where you could cook your ramyeon deliciously!

“Doubtful,” muttered Yuyeon, amused, and she moved to sit up and start her morning routine while you decided to lie around for just a little bit longer.

Working tirelessly many evenings made you tired and the exhaustion always caught up with you during weekends, where, frankly, you didn't have work. Also, it being the beginning of your second semester, the tension and stress were on but you decided you wouldn't let it affect you too much. You have had enough stress in your entire life and you swore you would become your usual cheerful self.

And you had been, indeed, working on it. But that meant getting over, and hopefully, forgetting everything that happened almost one year ago. Your brother was still in prison and your family, terribly disappointed and in pure shock at what had become of your brother (plus your underage drinking fiasco), you all decided it would be better for you to move to the dorms for the time being. Another story was forgetting about the person who was behind the entire turn-over of your life.

Byun Baekhyun.

You never saw him after that one time he came to your high school. In that moment, you were numb, paralyzed and it hurt to see him. He dared to act like he cared. But over the time, you grew hate towards him. A hate that was weirdly combined with some emotions you really didn't want to pay too much attention to, because they were all based on a fake relationship. A relationship, that was something so beautiful, just for it to end up becoming a complete nightmare. A trauma. A terrible trust issue that you might never be able to get rid of.

It was safe to say that you, Lee Nari, would rather spit at Byun Baekhyun than ever start a conversation with him let alone acknowledge his presence were you to meet him. Not that you were expecting to meet him. After all, you had been incredibly careful - especially around Oh Sehun - in avoiding him by never-ever-ever-ever even coming as much as close to the street where the main Bucheon Police Station was located (but too bad for you; it was literally in downtown Bucheon) and even if you had to cross it, you whined and had to be dragged by your wrist (by Yuyeon). On the good side, there was never a chance for you to cross his apartment building as he lived in a different neighborhood. So that was, thankfully, out of the possible trouble inducing locations’s list.

But still, you couldn't help feeling anxious about spotting him somewhere. The first few months, you might have been looking around with too much hope, wanting to see his real self instead of the ogling at the few photos you had together stored in your phone. Just one glance of his eyes, nose, lips was what you wanted; it was maddening.

Then the flashes of that day came back, ruining every sweet memory, every sweet touch of his engraved into your skin, every stroke of his lips - it all vanished, instead morphing into his stern, burning gaze of which you were on the receiving side. The way he blamed you, the way he wanted to arrest you, and then the way he wouldn't let even your own mother hit you yet he gave you the harshest of punches… The moment of you overhearing his conversation with his tall colleague (you already forgot his name) until your entire world crashed on you. He lied. He never liked you. He never wanted a real relationship with you. He used you to get to you. Byun Baekhyun wanted to arrest you and then he arrested your brother and smashed your heart into tiny pieces. How could you ever recover?

“What, you're not getting up?” shrieked Yuyeon when she came back from the bathrooms, towel hanging around her neck. “The results of the votes are today so you better get up and prepare. You're the school's star, missy,” she grumbled and went over to her table, continuing her complex skin-care routine.

Right.

The way to get over Byun Baekhyun was to live and you could do that thanks to your friends.

Pfft, you had places to be. Forget about Byun Baekhyun.

><

Because of your communications major, you somehow ended up in the university’s student council. You were representing your school year but it was still unclear how the hell you managed to win over more than half of your classmates when all you ever did was hide or be with Yuyeon.

You entered Bucheon University with pretty damaged self-esteem, your cheerful self still recovering from the scandal. However, despite always doing something mischievous with Yuyeon neither of you had a huge circle of friends. It was only natural that the two of you did everything together. Even now, it was mostly you and her, plus Sehun and some other friends.  Unfortunately to you, many males voted because of the nature of your chest. The quiet girl with huuuge boobs, they were saying with hushed voices.

“Don’t pay attention to them, it’s you winning at the end of the day,” advised Yuyeon at the time.

So when the both of you waltzed into the seminar room with a round table in the middle and took seats (Yuyeon was there for your moral support), you could only glare at one senior who was sitting opposite you, his eyebrows wiggling as he  shamelessly drunk in your chest which was, as per usual, hidden under an L-sized hoodie. It seemed you could never escape.

When the president of the student council, Chul, appeared you all stood up and bowed to him respectfully even though he was a student just like you. He was the oldest though.

To your surprise, he walked straight over to your chair, throwing a charming smile at Yuyeon, who let out a quiet scoff in return, before leaning down to whisper in your ear, not forgetting to touch your shoulder gently: “May I have a chat with you? It’s rather private.”

When he leaned away, you blinked twice but nodded and followed him outside for a moment. You could hear whispers erupting after you left though you paid no attention to them.

“What is it, Chul?” you asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Chul was one of the very few who never got distracted by it and you were thankful. He helped you a lot in your first semester, like finding you a job and teaching you how to drive a scooter so that you could easily do the deliveries while introducing you to some other interesting people on the campus.

“So about the spring festival - I have two things,” he started, his gaze set on your eyes, always making sure he reciprocated the eye contact. “First, you are taking part in the relay running for our team with representatives. Second, you have been requested as the MC-“

Before he could finish, you sighed holding out your hand to stop him, feeling the nerves kick in, not even paying attention to the first news. “Those votes aren’t even valid. They are all mocking me, Chul. Besides, I don’t wanna do it.”

Chul let you finish, patiently nodding. “Well, hence me stealing you from the meeting.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve been requested,” he repeated, emphasizing the last word, “by our main star.”

“I thought we haven’t heard back from the agencies yet?” you asked. You’d written countless emails to various agencies, asking for special famous idols of theirs. To your utter distaste, it also included Siamsa but you couldn’t tell anyone you knew what an annoying, fake bitch she was.

He shrugged. “Well, we heard back from a couple. Siamsa agreed to be the main star of the festival under one condition,” he murmured, lowering his voice. He pointed his index finger at you. “If you’ll do the MCing for her.”

That left you speechless. That delusional woman wanted what now?! “I don’t want to, Chul,” you shook your head, frowning.

It made you wonder why you were getting nervous in the first place. Was it because of her status and having to stand in front of your entire school or was it because of the connection you both shared and that was Byun Baekhyun? Just the idea of having to face her and having to be reminded that she dated your ex made you weirdly sick in your stomach.

He sighed, scratching his neck. “I’m sorry, Nari, but I’m afraid I’m gonna want you to accept it. She is the hottest idol out there and everyone wants her the most. Imagine the attention our university - and especially us, the school council, could bring in. Don’t let us down,” he added gently, though you could sense authority in his voice. Chul was always fair, you had to admit. He never asked you to do anything that made you uncomfortable, never asked you the reason for your reluctance in the past but now he insisted and it showed in his intense gaze.

“I’ll help you with the preparations,” he added, smiling encouragingly. “You’re much more outspoken and talented than you give yourself credit for, so I’m sure you’ll be a star just like Siamsa.”

Well, he really didn’t have to say that last sentence. If there was someone you wanted to be like, it was your good old self. Of course you had more talent, after all you were the big-mouthed one.

Chul patiently waited, seeing that you were mulling over the options. When you looked up at him, you slowly nodded while hating yourself. “Fine. I’ll do it. But-” you stopped him from smiling widely, “what happened with the original voting? Who won?”

“Obviously, you.”

You shook your head quickly. “But I mean who is the actual winner?”

“Not important,” he muttered, brushing past you. “Let's head back inside. Not everyone has the time to sit around waiting on a Saturday.”

><

Once the meeting was over, you couldn't wait to spill the news to Yuyeon but needed to wait until lunch time, when you would meet Oh Sehun. You had sent him a text earlier asking if he was still grabbing lunch with you and Yuyeon (secretly you were writing these messages for obvious reasons - you couldn't risk he would be with Baekhyun). Since he had agreed, you and Yuyeon were speed-walking to the cafeteria, both of you hungry.

Once sat down and joined by the tall friend, you looked around varily just to make sure he really came alone. 

Sehun sighed, tired with your dramatics. “I'm alone, Nari,” he rolled his eyes as he was mixing his tuna bibimbap. “And now spill. The both of you have been acting like rabbits on energy drinks.”

Shooting him a frown, you still rambled away for ten minutes, telling them what had happened. Yuyeon knew about Siamsa and your past experience with her and Sehun also knew the vital triangle connection of Siamsa, Baekhyun and you. He still seemed shocked and even uncomfortable when he heard your entire story.

“What made her request you?” he asked after he swallowed a big chunk of food. “I mean - does she even know your name? Your university?”

“And you literally met her a year ago,” added fervently Yuyeon, deep frown wrinkling her forehead.

Just like your friends, you also had many questions but no answers. Mulling over various possibilities, Sehun finally spoke up: “Should I ask Baek-”

“No.” Your answer was abrupt, but cold, empty and harsh to which Sehun winced the slightest bit. Even hearing his name made your heart race fast and hence the sudden cold behavior. Sehun knew you as a cheerful, kind girl so seeing you being affected by his friend to this extent made him quite perplexed but nothing he wasn’t used to by now. It was his fault; he should have known better than to bring him up.

Yuyeon shot you an unsure look but this time, you ignored it, focusing on shoving around the rice in the steel bowl with the spoon.

“You should have declined,” tried Yuyeon.

“I did decline,” you answered eagerly. “I feel like that bitch might have something up her sleeve. If she does, I should be ready.”

Sehun was flicking his gaze between you and Yuyeon, thinking over your words. Surely, things you didn't know about could hardly hurt you, right?

After lunch, Sehun bid his goodbyes to you.

“Where are you off to?” you pouted, looking up at him with puppy eyes. “It’s Saturday, let’s do something fun!”

“I’m going to the running tracks today with my friend,” answered Sehun and ruffled your hair in amusement to which you pulled back and away from his sneaky hand. “Maybe later, hm? I bet you’re gonna do something with the student council anyway.”

“You and your running, aish!” grumbled Yuyeon. “Go, go, we don’t need you anyway.”

“Don’t get into trouble!” Shouted Sehun as he turned to walk towards the gymnasium and the track field. He waved one more time before he had his broad back on you.

You scoffed and grabbed Yuyeon’s hand, yanking her towards the dorms. “Well, making trouble has been more challenging since we are old enough to do trouble,” you exclaimed, jumping a few times to make Yuyeon walk faster. She whined and tried to pull away but your grip tightened and you snickered. “But that doesn’t mean we still can’t go and have fun tonight!”

><

“Let’s do one more round.”

“Hyung,” groaned Sehun tiredly, feeling the sweat dripping down the sides of his face. “Enough.”

“One more.” Byun Baekhyun shook his head once before he took off for another round. “Losers will keep losing!” he shouted with a cheeky, handsome smile, running backwards for a bit to check on Sehun and when he saw the tall male run after him in challenge, he snickered and turned back, dashing off into a sprint.

It’d been like this for almost a year. Baekhyun was always a gym buddy with Sehun but in the past eleven months, Sehun became a small, indirect punching back. Whether it was because he suddenly became a mutual friend with a certain someone or whether it was a punishment for being there that night with her, he didn’t know. He didn’t want to know.

One thing he surely did know was that running helped him ease his mind and relax, maybe make him feel a little bit more numb like he so wished to be.

Getting rid of any intruding thoughts of Lee Nari was difficult. He felt sorry for her, the victim of his job. Fooling around with a young girl was not his plan but he knew he did it for the better good. He tried to persuade himself that he did it for the better good while pushing back the need to search for her and make sure she was doing alright. 

As he was nearing the finish line, Sehun caught up with him and they both jogged towards their bags nearby the tracks to freshen up. Sehun was heaving like a parched horse which made Baekhyun chuckle as he reached for two bottles, throwing one to his friend.

“Cheers,” exhaled Sehun harshly and quickly opened the bottle, gulping down the needed liquid.

Baekhyun hummed in reply and waited for his heartbeat to calm down before he would have a sip. “How’s everything?” he decided to ask. “The new semester just started.”

Sehun swallowed and closed the bottle. “It’s just the first week. You know the drill - introductions and boring stuff.”

“Nothing interesting happened then?” Baekhyun was very subtle in hints. Sehun was, thankfully, quick-witted.

“We will have the university festival in May,” he replied with the slightest of smirks on his face. “Siamsa is confirmed to perform.”

Baekhyun wasn’t looking at Sehun and even the information he just heard wasn’t worthy enough to make him pay attention. “Cool. She is an artist after all.” He noticed some girls approaching the track and he felt a small tinge of dissatisfaction. He really liked when the track was only his.

“One of my friends will be the MC. Actually, guess what! Siamsa made a special request. Funny, right? In what universe does a singer of her caliber ask for a mere first year student?”

Baekhyun snapped his head to Sehun. “Why?”

Sehun shrugged. “We don’t know why she wanted her out of everyone... though-“ Sehun pulled a thinking face. “It might have something to do with you.”

Baekhyun sighed, already feeling tired. “I don’t like that one bit. Siamsa is sneaky.”

Sehun nodded. “She didn’t want to do it but her senior kind of ordered her. So I guess she doesn’t have another choice.”

“What kind of senior is that if he makes her do stuff against her will?” huffed Baekhyun, his hands on his hips. “Isn’t he supposed to be there to support her?”

“Well, yeah. He did a lot for her so she feels like she has to do it.” Sehun decided to not share any more than that despite sensing Baekhyun’s questioning stare. He knew Baekhyun wanted to know what that “a lot” meant.

When Baekhyun knew he wouldn’t be getting more out of Sehun, he sighed and tapped his shoulder. “Thanks for telling me.” He moved to grab his bag from the floor when Sehun stopped him.

“Hyung.”

Baekhyun raised his eyebrows in question, waiting.

Sehun opened his mouth but then ended up closing it. Baekhyun was a tough nut to crack. It was obvious he was always interested in Nari’s well-being but him pretending not to do so was frustrating.

“I think-“ he re-started, remembering Nari’s emotionless face when he mentioned Baekhyun earlier that day. He opened his mouth to talk but Baekhyun was faster:

“I think it is better to leave everything up to her, Sehun. She is a smart young woman. If anyone can do well, it is Lee Nari. After all, she is finally able to do everything she was pretending to be doing.”

Sehun snorted a laugh, mockingly rolling his eyes. “And since when did you become so-ugh, respectful about that? Nari is stubborn and doesn't know anything about life.”

“It is none of my concern, Sehun,” replied quietly Baekhyun, looking somewhere off in the distance. “But I know she is stronger than you give her credit for.”

“She might hate you and she might not be over what happened between you two-”

“I locked up her brother,” gritted Baekhyun, “and before that, I wanted to lock her up. What makes you think there is any way for both of us to function normally even if we do meet?”

Sehun sighed. It was difficult to communicate with the both of them. Yes, they were both hurt but goddamn it. Anyone could know they cared for each other.

Baekhyun sensed Sehun's dilemma and so he stepped to the taller male and gave him a curt smile. “Don't push it, Sehun. She will be fine.”

><

Sweat was gradually collecting around your hairline until it turned into one huge tear drop travelling down the side of your face. The text message was as clear as the night sky.

Unknown number

drop it at the 1047 unit

top floor

“It's impossible,” you muttered, feeling yourself becoming nervous. You were standing in front of 1047 and it was definitely not the top floor. It was the first floor, just like the first  number indicated. 

Gnawing at your bottom lip, you raked your head about possible connections you could contact when you couldn't deliver the boxes as you were supposed to. There was never a responsible person, only an unknown number sending you messages with the quest and a requirement to always be careful (you supposed the carefulness was concerning the boxes). You would receive a confirmation message when the box was in safe hands. That was it. No unnecessary contracts; just you and the job at hand.

You tried calling Chul, you senior. After all, he was the one who fetched you the job but even he wasn't available at that moment.

When you were just about to lose your mind, your phone rang making you almost drop the box. Thank god for your reflexes. “H-hello? Chul?”

“Hey, what's up?” he chirped.

You told him quickly your problem but you weren't expecting his light voice to become more serious. “You can't find the place? Are you sure you are in the right building- shit, the time is almost up. I'll be there right now:”

Heaving out a breath, you checked your wrist watch. The box was supposed to be delivered within fifteen minutes. How would Chul make it in time for you, you weren't sure but you soon found out when you heard his rushing steps, his phone's screen lit up with the exact information you were provided with.

“Hey,” he breathed, taking in your worried gaze as you gave him an apologetic smile.

“Sorry for the fuss.”

He shook his head once, muttering a single “no need” before he took the box out of your arms and put it down in front of the door. Grabbing your hand he started pulling you downstairs. “We gotta get out of here.”

“Huh?” you looked back at the box helplessly, before you couldn't look anymore, instead watching out for your step on the stairs. “Wait - Chul, I need to fulfill the task.”

He shushed you and before you knew it, you were outside in the chilly air. Dragging you a few more metres, he heard an approaching car's engine and he was fast to push you into a small alley that was barely lit by any street lamps.

“Chul-” you started, frowning. You didn't like him manhandling you like that.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered as he made you press your back against the wall.

“Yeah,” you breathed, eager to hear any information he could provide you with to explain what the hell was going on.

To your utter horror, a police car drove by, but you weren't terrified about why the police car was there. You were terrified about a certain someone sitting in that car and you possibly having to face that certain someone. Just the thought of having to see his shocked or disappointed face yet again made you inwardly whimper.

When the car was far enough, Chul turned to you. “You are doing a great job, you really are. But you mustn't, by any means, get caught by the police while doing deliveries. Got it?”

Feeling your heart thumping loudly from the adrenaline, you nodded. “What about the box then?”

Chul cursed when he looked at his phone. “Three minutes left. Go in and check the box. If it's still there, take it to the top floor as per request. Sometimes they give misleading information to you in case your phone gets stolen. Next time, make sure to double-check all the information they give you, okay?”

You were nodding eagerly and already started walking back to the small apartment building.

“I have to go but write to me if the mission is successful. Now go, quickly,” he said and without waiting, took off into the opposite direction.

Due to the stress, you didn't even stop to think about the weirdness of the situation. Rushing back in, you went to the first floor where you left the box. You were rendered motionless when the box was no longer there.

Someone took it.

Feeling fear creeping into your system, you took out your phone to call Chul just when you received a confirmation message.

Unknown number

the box has been successfully delivered

[fanmoose12]

Hange was crunched over her laptop, typing furiously - it was probably another strong worded letter to one of their associates. If nerves weren't currently eating him up, Levi would have found the scene in front of him amusing. But as the case was, he was barely able to keep it together. He tried to distract himself, looking around Hange’s office. Even though, it was only the beginning of December, she was already in a festive spirit. There was a small Christmas tree on her table, and on her wardrobe hung a string of Christmas lights. Hange adored Christmas, so it was no surprise that she was getting ready for it so early.

Levi glanced back - thankfully, everyone else had already left the office. At least, no one would see him stare at Hange like he was some kind of a creep. It was bad enough that some interns jumped away from him in hallways.

There was nothing to be worried about, though. He just needed to ask Hange a small question. She was his best friend, there was nothing scary in asking your best friend a question. Besides, Hange probably wouldn't even accept his invitation. Knowing her, she received dozens offers already. She'd apologize and refuse, Levi would wave her off and then they'd forget about this incident altogether.

Just like they’ve forgotten about last year's incident.

Yes. There was absolutely nothing to worry about.

Levi straightened his shirt, fixed his tie and took a deep breath. And then finally— he knocked on the door.

"Yes!" Hange shouted. "Come in!"

"Oh, it's you," she said, as Levi walked inside. "I thought it was janitor coming to kick me out again," Hange laughed at her own joke.

The smile turned into a frown, as soon as she saw the look on Levi’s face.

“Is… everything alright?” she spoke gently, getting to her feet and coming to stand beside Levi. She tilted her head, looking at him worriedly. “You look kinda tense.”

Levi lowered his head, hiding his eyes behind the hair. “It’s… my mother,” he managed finally.

“Your mother?” behind the lenses of her glasses, Hange’s eyes widened. “Did something happen to her? What can I do to—”

“She’s fine,” Levi quickly assured her. He wasn’t going to tell it to her, of course, but Hange’s concern warmed his heart. “She just…” he cleared his throat and looked up at her, staring straight in her eyes. “She invited you over for a dinner. At Christmas.”

“Christmas?” she scratched the back of her head in confusion. “Are you asking me to spend Christmas with you?”

“My mom asks you,” Levi corrected. “But yeah. You don’t have to agree, though! If you have other plans already, it’s more than fine. She’ll understand. No hard feelings whatsoever.”

“Are you kidding me?” Hange beamed. “Christmas with Ackermans? How can I possibly refuse? Besides,” she elbowed him in a side with a mischievous look. “It’s not every day that Levi Ackerman—”

“My mom—”

“Invites me over to a Christmas party. Don’t worry, shorty,” Hange reached out and ruffled his hair. For some weird reason - probably because he let Hange get away with literally anything - he let her assault his immaculate haircut too. “Of course, I’ll come.”

“Great,” and Levi actually meant it. Despite, the fiasco during the last year’s Christmas party, he was looking forward to spending this Christmas with Hange by his side. “Now, c’mon, it’s almost nine pm. Get your shit, four-eyes.”

“Huh? Levi, are you offering me—”

“A ride home?” he scoffed. “Yes, I do, Hange. Or have you fixed your car already?”

Hange chuckled sheepishly. “I keep forgetting about that… you know how it is.”

Levi rolled his eyes. “Unfortunately, I do. So hurry up before I change my mind.”

“I’m on it, Captain!” she dashed to her desk, getting her bag and phone. Then Hange went to the wardrobe and took out her coat. She hastily put it on and haphazardly wrapped a scarf around her neck. “And I’m ready!” she announced proudly.

Levi tsked. “You’re such a mess,” he pulled her closer and fixed the wrapping of a scarf, making sure that it covered Hange’s neck completely. “There,” he patted her arm. “Now, you’re ready.”

“Thanks, dad,” Hange giggled and started to lead the way. “So, who else is going to be at the party?”

“You, my mom, Kenny—”

“Oh, your uncle?” she rubbed her hands together with a sly smile. “I like him! He’s so much fun!”

Levi huffed. “Just be careful around him, four-eyes. Or he’ll get you involved in some of his shady shit.”

“There is no need to be jealous,” she teased.

“Keep dreaming.”

“And that’s it?” Hange asked. “Your father—”

“Fuck no,” Levi replied instantly. “Kenny is more than enough to fill the asshole’s quota.”

Hange raised an eyebrow, amusement written all over her face. “So your uncle’s an asshole, huh? Didn’t he raise you, though? You know what they say – an apple doesn’t fall far—”

“Oi,” Levi interrupted, before more shit came out of her mouth. “I may be too straightforward sometimes, and sometimes I’m a little harsh and can come off as rude, but I’m nothing like Kenny.”

“If it helps you sleep at night,” Hange patted his shoulder with a sympathetic look.

“Shut up, four eyes,” scowling, he gave her a light shove.

“Ah!” Hange suddenly exclaimed, spinning around. “Christmas with Ackermans! I’m already looking forward to it!”

“Weirdo,” Levi commented, desperately fighting to keep an affectionate smile off his face.

“You’re saying it as if you aren’t the same,” Hange giggled. “Admit it, Levi. You’re as much of a weirdo as I am. That’s why we’re so compatible.”

“Whatever,” he scoffed, refusing to even entertain the idea. “Hurry up by the way. It’s late already, I don’t want to spend the whole night with your crazy ass.”

“Oh, Levi?” Hange put on an innocent look on her face, twirling a stray lock of her hair. “Can we stop to eat somewhere, please?”

Levi gave her a flat look. “Your fringe is empty again?”

“I just forgot to do the groceries…” she mumbled.

“Fine,” Levi sighed. “We’ll make a stop. But we’re going to my favorite place. Those disgusting burgers you love so much make me want to puke.”

“Let’s eat your boring soup then.”

“My boring soup is healthy. It won’t give you an atherosclerosis.”

“I need another favor from you…”

He groaned. “Let me guess, you forgot your wallet again?”

Hange shrugged with a smile. Levi cursed.

“Alright, I’ll pay for you. But it’s the last time, four-eyes,” he warned with a stern face.

With a smile still on her face, Hange nodded. They both knew that Levi was lying.

“Wait,” Levi said, as they neared the front door of the building. He turned to face Hange, eyeing her critically. “Where are your gloves?”

Hange rolled her eyes, but obediently opened her bag and started rummaging through her things. “Aha!” she exclaimed a couple of moments later, proudly showing Levi a couple of gloves. “Here they are!”

“Put them on,” Levi instructed, walking outside and heading towards his car. “And let’s leave this place, before the café closes.”

“Coming!” Hange shouted, following after Levi with a wide grin.

***

It was a Christmas Day already, and Levi was standing on a porch of his mother's house, waiting for Hange to show up. Knowing his friend, she would be late for at least ten minutes, so Levi leaned against the door, debating if he should go back inside to get his pack of cigarettes. His mother hated when he smoked, but it was going to be a stressful day, Levi knew it. Even without the memories of his last Christmas, nagging at him, there was Kenny he had to deal with, and the relationship between him and his uncle was at the very least, strained. If he wished to end this evening without strangling Kenny, Levi needed a lot more than just one cigarette.

However, before he could decide, he saw Hange at the other end of a street. She was walking with a spring in her step, dangling a couple of bags in her hands.

Levi crossed hands on his chest, watching her approach.

"What is this shit?" he pointed to the bags she was carrying.

"Presents!" she grinned widely.

“Presents?”

"Yes! For you, your mother and uncle."

Levi didn't drop the look of skepticism. "There are four bags."

"Of course, silly," Hange shook her head. "I've got two presents for you."

"Two?" Levi frowned. "Why two? I got only one for you."

"Well, it's not my fault your birthday is on Christmas," Hange complained. "Speaking of!" she spread her hands, "it's time for a hug, birthday boy!"

Levi cringed. "Is there a way to avoid it?"

"No!" Hange announced cheerfully. "C'mon, I'm waiting!"

Levi sighed, but obliged and came closer, letting Hange wrap her hands around him. She hummed happily, nuzzling his cheek.

"Ah, that was a good one," she said, as she took a step back, releasing Levi. He, however, couldn’t agree with her statement. It was a good hug, but it ended too quickly for his liking. Well, it wasn't like he could ask Hange to repeat it. She would agree, of course, but his reputation would suffer tremendously.

"Goddamn it, four-eyes," Levi scowled, when he took a good look on Hange's hands. "How many times do I have to remind you about the gloves?"

He grabbed her red and freezing palms in his, softly rubbing them. "Let's get inside, before you freeze to death."

"You worry too much," Hange rolled her eyes, but didn't try to shake Levi off and let him lead her inside.

The moment they crossed the threshold, Kuchel was already standing in front of the door, smiling from ear to ear. Levi awkwardly let go of Hange's hands and took a step back, allowing his mother to welcome her.

"You came!" Kuchel laid her hands onto Hange's shoulders, kissing both of her cheeks. "I'm so happy to see you, my dear!" she took a step back and faced Levi, giving him a stern gaze. “And you told Hange wouldn’t accept our invitation. You should bring her over more often.”

Levi looked down, mumbling something so quietly, neither Hange, nor Kuchel were able to catch it.

Watching the scene in front of her, seeing an embarrassed Levi, who was just scolded by his mother, Hange couldn’t help ��� she doubled over with laughter.

“Sorry!” she raised a hand, still chuckling. “I’m just— Levi looks so much like you, Mrs. Ackerman, it’s adorable!”

“Ah,” Kuchel smiled, reaching out to ruffle Levi’s hair. “He was always his mother’s boy.”

Levi groaned, desperately trying to hide his red face from Hange’s amused gaze. “Can you two please stop humiliating me?”

“And here she is!” Levi had never wanted the Earth to swallow him more than he did in this exact moment. He recognized that deep, booming voice instantly. “The only person who can tolerate my dear nephew!” Kenny walked out of the room to welcome them.

That infuriating smirk was already plastered on his face, and Levi cursed under his breath. It would be a very long evening.

“Hange, my darling!” Kenny took a step closer, meaning to take Hange by the hand. Levi was instantly by her side, glaring at his uncle.

“Watch your hands, old man,” he spoke darkly.

Kenny whistled. “Someone’s jealous, huh?”

Before Levi could retaliate and come up with another insult, his mother came to stand between them, wearing an annoyed expression on her face.

“Stop it, boys,” she sighed. “Kenny, don’t pick up on Levi, and you, Levi,” Kuchel shook her head. “Be nice for once, alright?”

“Yes,” Kenny and Levi answered in unison. Kuchel beamed.

“Now you two take your coats and shoes off and then join us in the living room. Hange?” Kuchel turned to her. “You’ll stay the night with us, right?”

“I…” Hange scratched her neck, unsure.

“Stay,” Levi whispered, nudging her in the side. “Mom already prepared the guest room.”

“I guess I have no choice then,” she grinned. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs. Ackerman.”

“Don’t mention,” Kuchel waved her off. “And please, call me just Kuchel. Levi talks so often about you, I feel like you’re a part of our family.”

“Ah, a-alright,” Hange stared at Levi, but he turned his face another way, stubbornly refusing to meet her eyes. His mother was exaggerating, he didn’t talk about Hange that much.

Kuchel sent them another warm smile, and then left to the kitchen.

"Aw," Hange pouted as soon as Levi took off his coat.

"What's wrong now?"

"You're wearing a simple shirt and cardigan.”

"And?" Levi prompted, feeling his patience go thin.

"Why not a Christmas sweater?" Hange clasped her hands, frustrated.

Levi looked at Hange's bright red sweater with a big reindeer right in the center of it. "No thanks," he mumbled. "My eyes hurt just looking at the monstrosity you're wearing."

"It's called fashion, Levi, you should look it up sometimes."

"Says a person, who can wear the same shirt for two weeks in a row. By the way," Levi outstretched his hand. "Give me it."

"Give you what?"

"My present, four-eyes, give it to me."

"A-ah," Hange resolutely shook her head. "Wait until midnight."

Levi gritted his teeth in frustration. "Fine, you can keep the other one, but you have two presents. Give me the one for my birthday."

"Nope."

"Hange, today is my birthday, I deserve to receive my birthday gift."

"Have some patience, will you? I'll give it to you at midnight."

"Why can't you—"

"Let's go!" Hange pushed him forward, leading him away from the presents. "Your family is already waiting for us."

***

As Levi watched Hange chat with his mother and uncle, sharing jokes and stories about him, he couldn't help but wonder - could it be that Hange actually forgot about the incident that had happened last year? It was the only possible explanation, she was so calm, so nonchalant, while he was practically brimming with nervous energy, trying to think about literally anything to distract himself from the awkward memories.

Noticing his stare, Hange smiled and winked at him, before resuming her story about Levi's meeting with investors. She wasn't nervous in a slightest and Levi decided to follow her example. If Hange was unbothered, what reason did he have to panic? If she didn't remember the events of last Christmas, he should try to forget about it too. *** "Hange, honey, come here," Kuchel beckoned, interrupting Hange's conversation with Kenny. "There is something I want you to see."

"Oh," as soon as Hange saw what Kuchel was holding out to her, she rubbed her hands in anticipation. "Is it what I think it is?"

Kuchel nodded, wearing the same giddy expression as Hange. "It's our family photo album."

Levi, who just came back from the bathroom, felt his heart drop. His mother wouldn't dare...

"Mom, it's my birthday," he reminded, sitting down next to her. "You can't embarrass me at my birthday."

"But Levi," Kuchel pouted. "I'm not embarrassing you! I just want to show Hange, how cute you were as a child."

"Yeah," Kenny chimed in. "She needs to see what your face looked like before you got a severe case of constipation."

"Shut up," Levi hissed, glaring daggers at his uncle.

Meanwhile, Hange was already opening the album...

"Oh my god!" she exclaimed delightfully, staring at the first page. "Levi, you looked so cute! You were the most adorable baby ever!"

"He still is," Kuchel softly patted Levi's cheek.

Levi groaned, covering his face with a hand. It was the worst moment of his life.

"Look at this face!" Hange continued to coo. "And these pretty eyes!"

Levi's cheeks were on fire.

"Tell about this to anyone, four-eyes," he warned quietly, careful not to let his mother hear. "And you're dead, got it?"

"Of course," Hange smiled, amusement swirling in her gaze. "My lips are sealed."

 ***

As the evening progressed into the night, Kuchel excused herself, insisting that she needed to go and rest. Levi and Hange were sitting on a sofa in the living room and watching TV. As they were on the second part of Die Hard, Kenny left too, claiming that there was something he had to take care off. Начало формы

“He’s definitely up to something unlawful,” Levi commented off-handedly as soon as Kenny closed the door after himself.

“Oh?” Hange grinned, muting the TV. “What do you think he’s going to do? Rob someone? Murder?”

“I don’t care,” Levi replied. “And you shouldn’t care too. The lesser you know, the better.”

“You’re no fun,” she smacked his shoulder, before collapsing on his lap with a quiet giggle.

“Get off,” Levi complained. “I’m not your pillow.”

“But you’re warm,” Hange wiggled a little, taking a more comfortable position. “And soft.”

“Shut up,” he sighed, trying to ignore the pleasant feeling that appeared because of Hange’s words. “It’s almost midnight,” he nodded at the clock on the wall. “So get up and bring me my present.”

“Oh my,” Hange looked at him with a sly look. “You really can’t wait to receive it, huh?”

“Give it, four-eyes.”

“Fine!” she huffed, getting to her feet. “But I want to see my present too.”

“Hurry up!” Levi called after her.

He rose from the sofa and headed to his room, where Hange’s present was hidden. When he came to the living room, Hange was already sitting on the floor by the Christmas tree, wearing a wide, excited grin.

"My present," Hange demanded, reaching with her hand.

Sitting down next to her, Levi rolled his eyes and passed the package to her. Instantly, Hange started opening, tearing the paper like an overexcited child. Levi glared at the pile of paper on the floor, but Hange was too excited to notice his dark expression.

"Oh!" she breathed out, as soon as she saw the present. "Levi, is that—"

"Your hands are always cold," Levi explained, watching Hange try the new pair of gloves he got her. "I know it's not much, but..."

"No!" Hange protested, pressing the gloved palm to her chest. "They're perfect! So warm and soft!"

"Good," Levi let himself relax. "It's my first time doing something like this, so I was afraid—"

"Wait!" Hange shrieked, eyes wide. "You made them by yourself?"

"Yeah," Levi said with a frown. "It's a not a big deal, though. Knitting isn't so hard, so..."

"You've knitted the gloves for me..." Hange whispered with a big, dreamy smile on her face. She kept staring at the gloves like they were a damn miracle. Levi couldn't look away from her, as a warm feeling spread through his veins. He could never guess Hange would like his present that much.

"Thank you!" Hange wrapped her arms around his neck, bringing him closer for a brief hug. "Well now!" she grinned, letting go of him. "It's time for your presents!"

“Finally,” Levi muttered.

Reaching behind her, Hange handed him the first package. "That's your Christmas present," she said softly.

Levi nodded, taking it from her hands and then carefully unwrapping. Once he was finished, he put the pieces of paper in a neat pile. Then, he looked at his present. It was a sweater, an exact copy of the one Hange was wearing right now, only slightly smaller and green, wherein Hange's was red.

"Matching sweaters!" Hange announced gleefully. "Put it on!"

Reluctantly - the sweater was kind of ugly - Levi put it over his shirt. He felt like an idiot, but the beam he received from Hange was making it kinda of worth it.

"You look really handsome," Hange noted, making Levi's heart skip a bit. "I should have gotten you reindeer antlers, though. They would have completed the look," she added, ruining the sentiment completely.

"Shut up," Levi grumbled. "How give me another one."

"I feel kinda stupid about it now," Hange began, fidgeting a little. The gesture was so uncharacteristic to her that Levi arched his eyebrow, looking at her in surprise. "Especially after your mother showed me a different one, and it contains cuter pictures," Hange smiled at that. "But, well, here. Happy birthday, Levi."

Levi greedily snatched the present from her and took off the wrapping paper. Inside there was a book - a photo album - Levi realized as he took a better look.

He opened the first page, and saw a picture of himself and Hange. Hange was smiling into the camera, one hand was making the piece sign, while the other was wrapped around his shoulders. His face was as emotionless as always, but there was a soft look in his eyes.

"I put our photo at the first page, because I know my face is your favorite," Hange teased with a sly smile.

Levi didn't answer - there was no need to confirm that Hange's words were actually true. Instead he turned the page. The next one showed him, Erwin, Mike and Nanaba, looking relaxed and slightly drunk. Hange obviously took this picture, since she wasn't in it. Then he saw a photo of him and Mike building a sand castle and after that a picture of him and Erwin, while they were playing Mario Kart on Erwin’s sofa. On the next page, there was a group shot of every employee of their firm. He, Erwin and Hange were stood at the center, with Erwin's arms on their shoulders. After that, it was a picture of Levi with their interns, Eren, Armin, Mikasa, Jean, Sasha and Connie. It was taken after they finished a seminar, Levi remembered. The kids were on cloud nine, since it meant that they could finally rest after a long and tiring weekend. They did well on the seminar, so when they asked for a picture with them, Levi just couldn't say no.

"You look like a proud dad here," Hange commented, leaning over his shoulder to look at the photo.

Levi let out a noncommittal grunt and continuing flipping over the pages. There was a lot more, almost three dozens of pages and each one showed a dear memory.

"I know that you like this stuff, keeping small mementos," Hange said. It was true - as much as Levi loved order and cleanliness, he also gathered all kinds of tickets, receipts and other small trinkets that reminded him of good memories. He kept all of them hidden in his desk drawer, though, so he was surprised that Hange knew about it.

"Thank you," he told her.

"You like it?"

"I love it," he confessed. He didn't say it often, probably had never actually said it out loud, but he valued, loved all of his friends. They were the best thing in his life. Of course, he couldn't say it now too. There was a reputation he had to uphold after all. "I've never seen a bigger collection of ugly faces."

Hange laughed then, throwing her head back. Levi watched her with a small smile.

"Happy birthday," she repeated, putting her head back on his lap.

Levi didn't protest this time, simply stared down at her. The Christmas lights were dancing across her face, making Hange look softer around the edges. Without thinking, Levi reached out to brush some hair out of her forehead. Hange smiled, looking up at him.

"Hey," she began. Levi nodded, motioning for her to continue. He stretched his hand, taking his teacup. "Do you remember last Christmas?"

The hand with a cup froze midair, as he stared at Hange with wide eyes. He thought she was going to launch in another lengthy and boring story, not bring this thing up.

"I don't," he answered stiffly, fighting the urge to get up and run. Hange shouldn't have known about this.

"You really don't?" Hange asked, disappointment in her voice. "We were at the party at Erwin's place, I had a bit too much eggnog and—"

And then she staggered out on a balcony, while Levi was having a smoke break. She was clearly drunk and a thought flashed in Levi's mind that he should bring her home or lay her down in one of Erwin's guest rooms, before she did something stupid. And that's what she did in the next moment. Something stupid. She snatched the cigarette from his hand and threw it away. Levi opened his mouth to reprimand her for that, but wasn't unable to actually say anything. Because Hange— Hange was kissing him. Before he could react to it in any way - push her away, bring her closer, entangle his hand in her hair - anything, Hange took a step back.

Whatever was reflecting on his face, Hange didn't like it. She pursed her lips in thought and a line formed between her eyebrows.

"That's not good," she said finally. "Just— just forget anything happen."

And just like that she was gone, giving Levi no time to respond and leaving him alone at a dark, cold balcony.

The next morning, she gave no indication that that kiss had ever happened.

"You do remember," Hange poked his cheek with a finger. "I can see it in your eyes."

"Then why the fuck have you asked?" the hand that wasn't holding a teacup, tightened into fist. What the fuck Hange wanted from him? She told him to forget, didn't she?

"I just wanted to— doesn't matter now," she looked away from him. "I've got my answer already.

Hange moved, trying to get up. Levi pressed on her shoulder, pushing her back.

"You were the one, who told me to forget it.”

"Because you clearly weren't interested!"

Levi frowned. "Who said that?"

"You!" Hange pointed a finger at him, almost hitting him in the nose.

Levi waved her hand away. "I've never said such thing."

"You didn't need to. Your face said it for you."

"I don't understand what you're talking about."

"You don't understand?" Hange huffed. "When I kissed you, you were scowling!"

Levi crossed hands on his chest. "That's how my face always looks like. You know it."

"You didn't kiss me back!" she accused.

"You didn't give me the time to do it!"

Hange felt silent after that. She kept looking at his face, as though searching for something there.

"Does it mean that... you wanted to kiss me?"

"Yes," Levi sighed. "For a very long time now."

"Oh," Hange's cheeks became an adorable shade of pink. "That's a bit unexpected. But... If I were to kiss you again—"

"I'd more than welcome it."

"Alright," she nodded, getting up. Hange leaned in, until their lips were almost touching. She glanced in his eyes, checking his reaction. Then she slowly moved closer, leaving a gentle kiss on his lips. She withdrew almost instantly, looking more than a little embarrassed.

"So," she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. "Did you like that?"

"It will take me some time to get used to it," Levi admitted.

"We can take it slow," Hange offered. "Would you like that?"

"Yeah," Levi agreed. "I would like that."

"C'mon then," Hange got to her feet and then held her hand out to Levi, helping him up as well. "Let's finish the movie."

He followed Hange back to the sofa and then resumed the movie. At first, he sat at the other end of sofa, deliberately putting some distance between them, in case Hange felt awkward. She rolled her eyes at the gesture, moving closer and laying her head on his thigh.

"Is this okay?" she asked, looking up.

"Yeah," Levi carefully put his hand on her shoulder and started rubbing it softly. "More than okay."

Hange smiled and turned her attention to the TV screen. Levi smiled back, staring down at her.

It was his best Christmas ever. Much better than the last one.

[jokertrap-ran]

(未定事件簿) EVENT!「异乡行歌·上篇」 [Tears of Themis] EVENT: Romantic Rail Getaway- Later Half Translations (Mo Yi’s Route)

Day 2: Libbey Ranch― [Investigation!] Ranch’s Food District (利比牧场 : 牧场美食区)

*Tears of Themis Masterlist / Mobile Masterlist *Spoiler free: Translations will remain under cut *The tracking tag for ALL Event Stories will go under: #Tears of an Event

Location: Libbey Ranch 

True to the Herder's words, the temperature of the Ranch up in the high mountains was definitely lower compared to the one below.

But it was Spring now, so we couldn't really feel much of the chill with the sun still shining down onto us.

After Mo Yi and I had both experienced the prospect of Cycling that they had to offer, we were more than ready to head down to the Indigenous Food Festival to have a taste of the much-anticipated delicacies. 

MC: Dr. Mo, let's first order a serving of Cheese Stuffed Meat later, and add on some grilled fruits and vegetables...

Mo Yi: I wonder if they have some white wine of higher quality here.

Mo Yi: White wine boasts a rich citrus flavour to it, as well as being lighter in style. Hence, it makes for a good pairing when it comes to Goat Cheese.

The Travel Brochure did touch on how to pair Wine and Cheese together, but it was nowhere near as detailed as what he’d just done.

MC: You really do know a great deal, Dr. Mo.

Mo Yi: I just thought that… I should let you taste the most delicious things they have to offer here since we're already here.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

We were chatting happily along the way to the Food District when we heard snippets of what sounded like an on-going argument.

Herdsman: Jenny, how many times have I already told you!? We won't let you defile our cheese, so leave.

Jenny: Can we discuss this a little more…?

Herdsman: Closed for discussions; now get a move on!

The Herder that was enthusiastically introducing us to the many attractions of the place prior, was almost akin to an entirely different person with how ferociously he was roaring at the girl.

The woman named Jenny hung her head in dejection. But I was still able to recognize her at first glance, nonetheless.

MC: Dr. Mo, it's her...

Mo Yi: The Owner of the Cheese Stall that we met during the Homemade Food Sharing Fest.

Jenny seemed to have said something, her words angering the Herder, for he’s reached a hand out and was just about to push her.

Mo Yi took a big stride forward, grabbing hold of the Herdsman.

Mo Yi: And what, exactly, are you doing? Can't we all be civil here? If you have something to say, then say it properly.

Herdsman: You guys...

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Herdsman: Humph, never mind.

He recognized us, hesitating a little… But alas, he continued acting unreasonably.

Herdsman: Anyway, our milk is definitely not allowed to be made into strange and weird things! It's blasphemous to us!

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Jenny stood to the side, looking helplessly at us. And for a moment, even I didn't know how to comfort her.

Jenny: You guys… I'm so sorry to drag both of you into this mess.

MC: How about you talk to us about it, If you're not against the idea?

Jenny: Yeah, sure.

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

≫Inquiry Start≪

▷Choice: Cause of the Problem

MC: So… How exactly did that quarrel start?

Jenny: I was here to buy milk, but the Herdsman wasn't willing to sell it to me.

MC: Huh? But why? That doesn't make sense!

Jenny: He said that the stuff I make couldn't be called cheese. And they think that all I'm doing is wasting their milk...

▷Choice: New Cheese Product

MC: The cheese you make is clearly very delicious; how can it be a waste?

Jenny: Because the cheese I make is too different from the traditional cheese of Barosco, that’s why...

Jenny: That’s why I tried making it with many different methods, but they’re still unwilling to give my cheese the same form of recognition.

She hung her head again. Looks like she’s very upset about this entire fiasco.

MC: Don’t take their words to heart. I support you! The cheese you make is delicious!

Jenny: Yeah, thanks.

▷Choice: Source of Milk

MC: The main issue here now is that Jenny can’t continue making her cheese if she can’t secure a source for her to get the milk she requires...

MC: Hm… Do you have any other channels where you can possibly get milk from?

Jenny: Well, I actually do have my own Milk Manor and Cows, but… It’s just that the quality of the milk that’s produced there is not as good as the one produced here, in this Ranch.

Jenny: But, there’s no need for any of you to worry! I won’t give up!

Jenny: I want to share my cheese with more people for them to try, so that everyone will grow to enjoy the cheese that I make one day, just like you guys.

MC: They definitely will.

≫Inquiry End≪

☆⋅⋆…⋅─────────── ⋆⋅✾⋅⋆ ───────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Mo Yi: Miss Jenny, I suggest you try your luck by participating in the Creative Food Festival at Pui Lake.

Mo Yi: Perhaps you may get the opportunity that you so wish to have down there.

Jenny: Pui Lake? I’ve never been there before...

Mo Yi: To my knowledge, the Creative Food Festival was created to introduce everyone to the more creative dishes and how delicious they can be.

Mo Yi: I think that the theme of this Festival is a perfect fit for the new type of cheese you've created.

Hearing Mo Yi's suggestion, the light in Jenny's eyes began to return, the hope overwriting the despair that had previously occupied those orbs.

Jenny: Thank you… I think I'll do just that.

She hurriedly bid us farewell, speed-walking her way out of the Ranch.

My inner worries that I had about her only increased upon seeing her retreating figure, slightly dampening the joy of this trip.

MC: (Haa… I do hope everyone will warm up to the cheese she makes soon, and come to like it…)

☆⋅⋆…⋅───── ⋆⋅ Romantic Rail Getaway⋅⋆ ────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Previous Part: (Day 2: Libbey Ranch― Libbey Manor) | Next Part: (Day 2: Libbey Ranch― The Ranch Surprise)

[theofficersacademy]

Days grow ever shorter as the cold deepens across Fódlan, sprinkling the first powders of hoarfrost from its icy hand. Roaring fires become the eye of every household, a halo of red to match that which cloaks the silhouettes of wolves under the growing moon. Their distant howls strike fear into the hearts of shepherds in the dark.

The north winds of Faerghus bring not only the promise of winter, but whispers of concern surrounding a particular Kingdom nobleman. Rumor has it that this man has been acting strangely - erratic one day and lethargic the next, occasionally mumbling gibberish under his breath. His sudden disappearance has resulted in calls for the Church to investigate. After the fiasco in Leicester, however, those who are called to look into the matter have been ordered to shed their uniforms and make their identities a secret. As eastern Faerghus settles in for an impending snowstorm, no one will bat an eye at travelers searching for warmth and shelter.

Golden Deer Mission: Investigate Duke Philip!

GD Mission Board

Faerghus' winter storms come early this year. The bone-deep chill you feel as a strong wind blows through your group is worse than the priests back at school forewarned. Unless you're planning to become a popsicle, you should do as the Faerghans do and try to build yourself some shelter.  

You stick out like a sore thumb in your school uniforms, and they're not quite enough to keep you warm either. On your travels, you come across a ransacked village, scorched and trampled... it's an opportunity to find more appropriate clothes, even if you're mixed on the idea of becoming a second group of bandits. What’s more, the destruction seems fairly recent...   

Ill-prepared for the weather as you are, you manage to get lost in the forest just outside of the location you’re supposed to be investigating. Part of your group builds a fire to stay warm as the sun begins to sink, while the other sets out to regain their bearings. It’s just as dusk sets in that the trees come alive with low moaning and the sound of something being dragged through the leaf litter. You brace for a monster, but instead you find humans - around half a dozen - with ashen skin and their eyes rolled back into their heads. One swings at someone in your party and sends them flying into a tree, but unfortunately your attacks aren’t so potent. Standard weapons bounce right off of these things. Fortunately for you, Nessie of the Knights of Seiros is with you, and one strike from her gauntlets reveals the monster’s weakness: Relics. [Grants +1 Reason or +1 Brawling]  

With Nessie’s help, you make it to the village at last. There seems to be some sort of ritual or festival going on - one that doesn’t correspond to any holiday you’ve heard of. Not to mention that decor seems half-rotted already, and the houses look to have been neglected for weeks. There are people in dark cloaks, their faces concealed, shuffling in between crowds of those same corpse-like monsters you fought in the forest. Except Nessie recognizes a handful of them by name, and you come to the cold realization that these are people. Dressed in robes yourself, you go unnoticed by whoever is leading this strange ritual. Try to keep a low profile as you observe. [Grants +1 Faith]  

You’re on the lookout for a Duke Philip - the man supposedly in charge of this village, and the one whose report you initially received. There’s a house at the far end of the village with doors and windows both completely boarded up. But through a hole, you manage to see a glimpse of a shadow pacing back and forth at all hours of the day. The cloaked figures in the village also seem especially interested in this place, as there are often three or four patrolling the area at any given time. Make too much of a commotion and your mission will be in jeopardy.

NEW ! As time goes on, you begin to notice a pattern. Occasionally one of the villagers will be called to the house on the far end of the village. Some never return. Others return more irritable and irrational, similar to the people you discovered in the forest. It's reason enough to try investigating the building more thoroughly. You find a way in through a trap door, where stairs lead you down into a basement, dark save for the familiar glow of magical energy. It's hard to comprehend what half of these contraptions are for, and even harder to make your way around the room. Your foot catches on something, and clanging metal precedes a strange "beeping" sound that comes from a tall tower-like object in the center of the room. You already have a bad feeling about this, and the bolt of thunder magic that shoots from the tower only confirms it.

NEW ! Over the past few days, the buzzing noise in your ears has gotten louder and louder. It breaks your focus and deafens your thoughts, and as your friends approach you and voice their concerns, your only thought is to push back against them and shut them up. Perhaps permanently. As your mind begins to fray under whatever has been influencing the villager's, can your friends bring you back to your senses?

NEW ! It started with only a few to begin with, not enough to prove conspicuous. But as the month drags on, there's no two ways about it: the shambling villagers going through the worst of this curious blight share at the least one thing in common. Each of them bears a lance, all the more suspicious for how normal the weapons appear at a glance. A closer look may reveal more to the puzzle, though that will first involve prying a villager from their prize - an endeavour that will require planning lest you bring the horde of them upon yourself. [Grants +1 Lance]

Non-Mission Tasks

The local cats and dogs of the monastery have been anxious recently. One of the students, who had been known to play with them and leave them food, has recently gone missing. Your investigation into the matter leads you behind the abandoned cathedral, where you find a giant Demonic Wolf crouched over her body. As it licks her hands, growling and whining, you spot a bright pink ribbon tied around its neck, nestled in its matted fur. The wolf takes notice of you, steps forward protectively, and growls low.  

As the days grow colder, students balk at the idea of walking around outside in the cold, especially late at night. Whispers of a shortcut quickly spread through the student body: if you're coming from the library, you can go through the gallery hall to get back to the dorms. It's not long until this path is marred by rumors of an armored thief stealing people's books and essays late at night. There's a reward if you unmask the criminal, but soon enough you find out that there's more to this criminal than you thought. Too bad the realization only comes when one of the armored knights on display is magically brought to life, brandishing its sword at you. [Grants +1 Sword]  

Cold weather is on the rise, and the students are eager for new games to entertain themselves with. Luckily for them, the mage club has been happy to provide! Inspired by the visiting wyvern flock last moon, they have devised a new contraption: the magicanical bull! Combining magic and mechanical parts, this faux bull does its very best to throw its rider off its back. The name of the game is to last as long as you can! How long can you hold on before you fall? [Grants +1 Riding]  

The staff of Garreg Mach are calling for volunteers! On a nearby snowy mountain sits a large, abandoned tower from days long past. Lady Rhea wishes to bring this building to this century and create a recreational space for the students. There are floors to sweep and beds to make, but the discovery of a large hot spring tempts you to play hooky....  

With only weeks to practice for the White Heron Cup, students busy themselves by ordering their ball attire and practicing their dance moves. Even the stodgiest grump can't help but feel energized by the excitement in the air.

NEW ! A recent snowstorm at the base of the Oghma Mountains has blown a group of lumberjacks into Garreg Mach's castle town. The Society of Axe Personnel (proudly referring themselves as "SAP") are grateful for the assistance that the Church has offered, and in return they decided to put together a lumberjack skill competition! Practice climbing trees, logrolling in the fishing pond, and carving wooden statues with your axe! [Grants +1 Axe]

NEW ! Strange magical happenings are a dime a dozen these days, and the administration has taken notice. For the students' safety, the faculty have devised a new winter session course in defending against magical attacks, geared towards those with little resistance. If the sight of heavy armor and broad iron shields doesn't earn a groan from the students, the words "mandatory for all Officers Academy students" in the course description certainly will. However, the talented mages in the student body have some tricks up their sleeves. One morning you arrive at class with the armor already in use, the students using their shields to bash at a flaming ball of magic and bring it closer to the goalposts on one side of the field. One of the players notices you and calls out. They just invented this cool new game, do you want to play? [Grants +1 Heavy Armor]

Frequently Asked Questions

How does the divided task board work?

This season’s mission is assigned to the Golden Deer. Therefore, tasks from the ‘GD Mission Task Board’ must be undertaken by someone that is affiliated with the Golden Deer.

Tasks from the ‘Non-Mission Task Board’ have no house restriction and can be undertaken by anyone.

These aren’t the only threads I can do, right?

Of course not! These are just prompts to help give some ideas of possibilities. You’re always free and encouraged to make up your own threads. You’re also more than welcome to worldbuild on your own, using these prompts as a base.

How do I claim the skill points?

In order to qualify for the skill point, the thread must clearly allude to the listed task and preferably feature the task being completed; however, the point can still be claimed even if your muses narratively fail the task (failure is sometimes just as fun to write as success, after all). You do not need to message the masterlist to claim your skill point.

Can I only do one task?

Nope, you can do as many as you’d like with as many different partners as you’d like! You can do the same task with more than one person! However, you can only claim the skill point for each task once.

What if my partner leaves or drops a skill point thread?

If the dropped thread has at least 2 notes (not counting likes, only reblogs with replies in them) and you have hit at least 400 words on your end, you may still claim the skill point.

Remember to use (and track!) the #toa open tag for any open threads, and you can also post a link to your open thread on the appropriate Discord channel! If you have any other questions or concerns, shoot us a message through the masterlist or on Discord!

[something-tofightfor]

HCs please!! Ryan + odd jobs / SC Billy + coffee / Ink Logan + snow / Caspian + swimming / John + “fixing” something / Sam + surprise

Oh, multiples... here we go. 

Ryan’s lifestyle before meeting you requires him to work a ton of odd jobs. He doesn’t often stay in places for long, but when he chooses to, he tries to find something that he’s never done before to give him life experience - there are diners everywhere, places for him to work as a short order cook or a dishwasher ... but what he really likes is learning new things. We know about the boat in Alaska, but what about the road crew in Texas? 

Ryan spent a spring and a summer one year when he was about 22-23 in Texas, working for TxDOT, and while it was one of the hottest periods of time he’s ever spent anywhere, it was well worth it. Why? He worked for Austin County, and got to attend South By Southwest while he was there - as an artist. He didn’t care about all the corporate bullshit, but instead spent the days that the festival ran making his way between musical performances and talking to the artists and other people that were just there to watch. 

But the best part? He and Cowboy and Ginny played the festival, the two of them coming in from another part of Texas for a few days - to check on Ryan, and to play. Sure, it was a tiny stage tucked behind a couple trees by the river, but they had a crowd of about 20 people for their whole set - and it’s how he met Georgie. Even though they went their separate ways after the event ended; Ryan getting back to work, and Georgie heading out on a train, it was the beginning of one of the best friendships that Ryan has. 

Steel City Billy and coffee. Hmm. Billy got used to drinking shitty coffee in the desert when he was overseas, so one of his indulgences is, in fact, coffee. He prefers to drink it black most of the time, with half a teaspoon of sugar. He likes strong coffee - the stronger the better - and hadn’t ever touched a cup of decaf in his life. Before his workouts, Billy drinks straight black coffee - a small cup - just to kickstart his metabolism.... not that he really needs it, because he’s always in great shape, but the energy helps. One of Billy’s favorite coffee memories was after spending a night at the Castle house, he got up before anyone else and made a pot. When Frank poured himself a cup, he couldn’t even drink it, and accused Billy of making it too strong. 

Ink Logan and snow ... he doesn’t see a lot of snow living in California, BUT as an escape after your trial’s over, and once you’re feeling 100%, instead of asking to go to the beach (which you do, still) ... Logan whisks you off to his place in Aspen for a week in the middle of winter. There’s no interruptions - no phone calls, no Delos business, no reason to worry, and it’s time where the two of you can relax, unwind, and finally talk through everything that’s happened and been said since the William Fiasco. He didn’t tell you he had a place in the mountains, so when you got there, it was a surprise to you ... and after seeing the look on your face, Logan was happy that he’d kept it a secret. The mornings that you spent walking through the woods on his property, evergreen trees surrounding you and the snow beneath your feet are some of his favorites from the entire time he’s known you. 

Caspian swims... like a lot. And he’s a really strong swimmer, having learned in the ocean nearby the castle. He understands currents, understands the tides, and knows how to keep himself and anyone else he’s in the water with safe. In fact, people think that Caspian likes being on the ship more than he does on land, and that’s only partially true - Caspian likes being in the water more than just about anything else. His crew is used to him springing from the deck and into the sea unannounced, and though the first few times it happened, they worried, they don’t anymore, because to them, it’s just Caspian being Caspian, and not the King of Narnia being reckless. 

He taught you how to swim in deep water - patiently, helping you learn to trust the currents and your body, and though it’s somewhat improper for Narnia’s queen to put on a pair of breeches and one of her husband’s loose shirts, again, it’s one of the things that the crew turns a blind eye to... because it keeps both of you happy. 

John, bless his heart, has the right idea, but often gets way ahead of himself. For example, growing up, he and Hilda used to play inside the house, which drove Veronica MAD. It wasn’t because the kids were having a good time, it was because John didn’t realize his own strength or speed or level of clumsiness, and lots of things ended up broken. 

Like the table leg, which he used flour and water to “glue” back together, and then propped up with a stack of heavy books.  Or the dishes that he and Hilda used to create towers on the kitchen table, and then ended up breaking when John’s knee knocked into it as he got up to get more. Those pieces, they didn’t even try to fix, instead they tried to hide them in the back of the large fireplace, beneath the ashes. 

Or, how about your bedframe, which John broke after jumping into it with you one too many times ... and then broke again after repairing it himself instead of asking for help (at your request, because you didn’t want him to have to approach anyone with such a scandalous case of a broken furniture item) 

Sam Adams actually likes surprises, especially when they’re meant for you Even though things have calmed down slightly in the wake of the signing of the Declaration and the following events, he’s still very busy,  meaning that he has about a million and a half things on his mind at once. But he doesn’t ever hesitate to bring home a small bouquet of flowers after long days of meetings, or to stop at the bakery and bring you home a treat if he passes it. He also tries to bring you a small gift - glass bottles, new buttons and thread, candles - every time he’s away ... as if seeing his face walk through your front door isn’t enough of a welcome surprise. 

[anniekoh]

elsewhere on the internet: coronavirus, part 1

Reading a ton these days about the coronavirus, from all sorts of angles: humorous memes, local governance, border politics and xenophobia, Chinese social media, journalistic freedom/censorship, Taiwan, open science, the indie music scene etc etc.

Wuhan: a tale of immune system failure and social strength (TJMa, Feb 4, 2020)

In the confusions of the seal-off, three Wuhan Weibo users posted descriptions of what their aunt had experienced. The suspected coronavirus patient was turned away by overcrowded hospitals. Her conditions worsened rapidly at home, was finally admitted into an Intensive Care Unit, and died two days later. She never had the chance to be formally diagnosed. When her nieces posted about her death, they understandably expressed dismay. One of them described gruesome scenes at hospitals, some of which she heard about from interactions with an ambulance driver. This became her sin. As influential Weibo accounts picked up the story, they were displeased and irritated by the distraught posts... Quickly, a narrative of “bad elements” trying to sow mistrust about government disease response began to develop around the three cousins. Discrepancies of their accounts were highlighted. Suspicious wordings were scrutinized. The most eye-catching theory was that they were internet agents hired by the Taiwanese regime to stir up discontent on the mainland, based on their occasional language usage. Piqued by such storylines, thousands of Weibo users descended on the cousins’ Weibo space to insult them. “Disgusting bitches!” they cursed. When Weibo belatedly verified the identity of the three women, a few accusers made public apologies. Weibo later suspended some leading accounts in this episode.

The cousins were not alone. All over Weibo, desperate help seekers from the epicenter of the contagious disaster were being chased and attacked by “truth guards” for spreading rumors and misinformation. The bullying was so widespread that a user came up with a satirical guideline advising Wuhaners asking for help on Weibo to self-humiliate and apologize preemptively to the truth guards for their forgiveness.

By Jan 26, 3 days after the official seal-off, the spectacle had grown into a national concern, prompting bloggers to openly call for a calm-down of the frenzy: “Wuhan people are not our enemies.” More concretely, a plea went out to stop leaking the personal information of people from Hubei. Apparently, vigilantes in the system who had access to information such as hotel check-in registries were passing it on so that others could avoid, report, or drive away those associated with Hubei province.

As ordinary people were being chased, isolated, bullied, silenced and pushed around, the other line of questioning, after those responsible for the fiasco, was struggling to keep its focus. In a bombardment of outbreak-related information, public anger acted like the small ball in a roulette game. At any given moment it may land on top of the Wuhan Municipal Government, Hubei Provincial Government, the Chinese Center for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC), the United States CDC, or the World Health Organization (WHO), depending on which media story or blog post was trending at that time. The outbreak and the Spring Festival holiday together created an unprecedented online time-space where hundreds of millions of Chinese, all off work, had nothing else to do but watching one of the country’s worst public health crises unfolding on their mobile phone screens. Every actor’s every action was scrutinized and commented upon by millions online. At one point, 10 million people were watching the live stream of the construction site of an emergency hospital, assigning nicknames to bulldozers and excavators.

....

The sealed-off megacity was also kept afloat by an advanced network of internet-based service providers and mobile-organized support groups that were both non-existent 17 years ago. It was Alibaba’s online shopping platform, Didi’s mobile taxi hailing, SF’s courier services and Meituan’s food delivery system that kept the basic life-supporting functions of Wuhan operating when all its public services were either stopped or severely stretched.

The Digital Radicals of Wuhan Guobin Yang (February 3, 2020)

After Wuhan was closed down, a genre of writing called “diaries in a lockdown city” began to spread on Chinese social media.

....

Internet censorship and control did not start now, but they look particularly cruel at this point. Many people are stuck at home after the city is locked down. They depend on the internet for information and to keep in touch with families and friends. We become isolated islands without the internet.

As a social worker and activist, Guo Jing tries to rediscover her place in an isolated city, to paraphrase the title of one of her essays. She explores the streets and the food marts in her neighborhood to see how the lockdown and the illness have affected the city. She talked to the street cleaning workers to find out about their lives. In her diary on January 28, she wrote:

I interviewed eight street cleaning workers, six women, two men. They work for about seven or eight hours a day. Their salary is about two thousand and three or four hundred Yuan, which is less than two thousand after tax.... Every day they could receive “84 Disinfectant” and reusable gloves. They had no disposable gloves and were all short of masks. The lucky ones among them may receive 20 masks at a time and can go back for more after using up. One poor guy received only two masks since the city was locked down.They are all very kind people. Some don’t have disposable medical masks, so they would use their scarves to cover their mouths. I had three disposable medical masks with me in case I might need them outside. I gave the masks to them …. I asked them whether they are worried. One big sister said of course. She was already living separately from her son and daughter-in-law. They don’t go out, and she would buy things for them and deliver them to their door.

See also the Jan 29 story by Zhong and Palmer: Wuhan's virus and quarantine will hit the poor hardest

I’ve been riveted to the coverage of the coronavirus, and very very aware of how much the U.S. media (and non Chinese-language media) generally misses in terms of the context and the nuance. There are major exceptions to this, such as Li Yuan at the New York Times (Feb 4, 2020)

So many officials have denied responsibility that some online users joke that they are watching a passing-the-buck competition. (It’s “tossing the wok” in Chinese.) The Chinese people are getting a rare glimpse of how China’s giant, opaque bureaucratic system works — or, rather, how it fails to work. Too many of its officials have become political apparatchiks, fearful of making decisions that anger their superiors and too removed and haughty when dealing with the public to admit mistakes and learn from them. “The most important issue this outbreak exposed is the local government’s lack of action and fear of action,” said Xu Kaizhen, a best-selling author who is famous for his novels that explore the intricate workings of China’s bureaucratic politics.

Those officials could often be corrupt, but even the party’s fiercest critics sometimes acknowledged that they got things done. Liu Zhijun, the former railway minister, is serving a lifetime sentence for taking bribes and abusing power. He also oversaw the creation of China’s high-speed rail system, which vastly improved life in the country.

Journalist William Yang has been giving updates on the coronavirus 

Chinese infectious disease expert Tseng Guang said in an interview that China’s disease control system only has the authority to collect and analyze data, and it is not a decision-making institution. He said that the disease control agencies play a weak role

Qingqing Chen has also been a key media conduit

Eight Wuhan residents praised for "whistle-blowing" virus outbreak Global Times (via Qingqing_Chen, Jan 30, 2020)

In an exclusive interview with Global Times' Editor-in-chief Hu Xijin, Zeng Guang, chief epidemiologist at the CCDC, said those eight residents should be highly regarded as they turned out to be correct about the viral outbreak, even though the information they spread "lacked scientific evidence".

The eight residents were briefly detained by Wuhan police after they circulated online "rumors" that cases of severe acute respiratory syndrome (SARS), the viral respiratory illness that battered China in the spring of 2003, were detected in some of Wuhan's hospitals.

The residents were released shortly but news about the arrests angered many in the country as the novel coronavirus continued to spread in the country. Many termed that detaining the eight whistle-blowers as evidence of local authorities' incompetence to tackle a contagious and deadly virus.

Questions about a health care system that immediately was overloaded.

In Sickness and in Health Yangyang Chen, (Jan 29, 2020, SUPchina)

Despite a population of 1.4 billion, there are only a few million medical practitioners in China, most of whom have a bachelor’s degree or less. The problem of extreme shortage in qualified staff is compounded by the country’s size and uneven distribution of resources. Outside of first-tier cities and provincial capitals, well-trained doctors and modern medical facilities are few and far between.

Despite the overwhelming demand and staggering medical costs, the basic income for most doctors in China is relatively meager. Overworked and underpaid, many accept bribes to complement their salaries. With weak regulations and insufficient compensation for its workers, the Chinese government has incentivized the prevalence of “gray income” in the medical industry, a major source of public resentment.

Moreover, without adequate access to care or relevant education, the general public has a poor understanding of medicine, and can develop unrealistic expectations for its efficacy. A string of highly publicized scandals damaged the reputation of the medical profession, further sowing distrust between caregivers and their recipients.

Chinese Storytellers chinesestorytellers.com has also been a huge resource, sharing “stories about hospitals being understaffed and patients being turned away have prompted people to start online volunteer networks to help patients who have no choice but to quarantine themselves at home.”

And of course about the legitimacy crisis in Chinese politics

How Much Could a New Virus Damage Beijing’s Legitimacy? Taisu Zhang, January 29, 2020, Chinafile

THE TRUTH ABOUT “DRAMATIC ACTION” Da Shiji (达史纪) | Jan 27, 2020, China Media Project

But is it fair to regard this case of large-scale quarantine also as a “Chinese miracle” in public health?

...

Everyone must understand, first of all, that this epidemic was allowed to spread for a period of more than forty days before any of the abovementioned cities were closed off, or any decisive action taken. In fact, if we look at the main efforts undertaken by the leadership, and by provincial and city governments in particular, these were focused mostly not on the containment of the epidemic itself, but on the containment and suppression of information about the disease.

 Comic relief: Quarantine makes life better, MessyCow.com

[Quarantine makes life better, MessyCow.com

[polar-stars]

Now that i've watched the first two episodes of season 5 of Shokugeki no Soma, i'd like to know your thoughts, what did you like? what did you dislike the most? What do you hope the anime will improve? i personally felt like it was a bit too rushed but i did like that anime only scene with Soma and Erina at the baloony where they talked about his mother, it was nice ^-^

Hello ! (I hope you’re well, safe and healthy during these days 🍀)

So my thoughts on Season 5? Well 1/10, there’s not nearly enough OTP-content for me

Okay no, I’m kidding! (although…I do miss my OTP-content but enough of that really, no one cares) My feelings for Season 5 are very, very mixed. 

The fact that it dived right into Beach Arc although there’s content in-between the RDC finale and Beach Arc greatly confused me. My prediction is that the anime team did it in order to come back with a bang so to speak: Beach Arc has all of the 92nd Generation, shows it’s Elite 10 members in action and well, it’s genuinely a fun arc in the manga too, generally seen as “the last good thing” before the BLUE-fiasco starts. Out of everything that comes Post-RDC this arc carries most of Shokugeki’s original spirit (Safe for Les Dessert 1 maybe. Les Dessert 1 is valid in this house, don’t @ me)

I suppose the Anime just considered that more exciting to start with and rally people up for the new season than just solely Megumi and Soma getting to meet (the character that no one likes) Asahi 🤷🏻‍♀️ 

I think that was the same case with “Ni no Sara” (2nd Season) as well, which immediately started with Soma’s and Alice’s match instead of showcasing Megumi’s and Soma’s visit to a daycare, which upset a few people back then…as said visit was skipped entirely. But I suppose that was also just too slow as a start of a new season for the anime team which is why they dived right into the exciting fight 😅 It’s kinda sad though how it’s always Megumi who suffers from scenes being cut in favor for thrill. I am legit sad over the Hot Spring Arc being reduced to a quick Slideshow during the credits of Season 4….It was a legit epic moment of Megumi and she deserved to have it animated. Also, bias…but while they only kicked in the last part of Hot Spring Arc, it was also legit a nice entrance of the former 2nd years and Takumi and Isami back then, which I’d have liked to see animated 😪 

anyway

First Episode was more or less fine and fun being real, even though I was still a bit >:T about Hot Spring Arc being cut entirely. 

Then there’s….episode 2….

So the preview for Episode 2 had been posted in advance on twitter and I read it and I actually got more or less excited. The BLUE Premlins got mentioned in the preview already and I went: “Wait? You’re telling me that the anime is really dedicating an episode to anime-original content?” I was…floored. 

You know the anime always added it’s original bits ever since Season 1 and especially in Season 4 they took quite some liberties here and there. But ultimately they mostly just added little things and didn’t really begin to actively tinker with the story I’d say. An entire episode seemingly dedicated to anime-original-content was on a whole level and I was instantly in love with the idea. 

You know a common question asked back when BLUE began was why exactly Soma, Megumi and Takumi were chosen to go to BLUE and there was just…never really much explanation given for it in the manga. The anime tried to offer an explanation by having them earn their participation and they tried to do it in a fun way that very much mirrors the Autumn Election Premlins.

But well…Let’s just say….

It mirrored the Autumn Election Premlins VERY STRONGLY

The episode ultimately, for the most part, became a Recycle Festival of Reused Shots. Almost every frame had been taken from some earlier episode. Some had their hairstyles updated to the Timeskip-Look versions but like…characters with no Timeskip-Look like Marui, Isshiki or Kuga made the Recycling specifically obvious to me (Marui showing off his dish was basically just a much shorter version of him doing so in the AE Premlins and //lies down// my son deserves better than this). And you know….

I really liked the idea of the BLUE Premlins and I got what the anime wanted to do: Give the Side Characters some justice and action before they’ll all disappear into the Abyss in favor for Erina’s family drama 2.0 and Asahi’s annoying face. And they combined it with an explanation on why Megumi and Takumi got chosen for BLUE….That’s…noble and sweet intention. The anime has always shown it’s side characters more love than the manga ever did and…ah, I do like what they were attempting to do however-

As much as I tried to focus on the story behind it and how much I wanted to ignore the animation….The fact that I’ve seen nearly every image on screen before became jarring and boring REAL QUICK. 

I think that’s a shame. They could have made it so much more fun and enjoyable but….the visuals made it just SO hard for me, because there was just barely anything new to them ; 7 ; 

Since I saw the preview, Episode 2 had something that I didn’t expect anything in this season to have: expectation. And it was just kinda a let-down being real ;w; 

What I liked most so far though is, very briefly: Every Scene with Yuki so far, Yua and Urara being given Spotlight, Eizan’s and Nene’s Timeskip-Looks existing [I love them] and also their scenes…specifically Eizan’s because he’s just funny to me, Quality Shun and Zenji Bonding Time in Episode 1, Megumi actually winning the BLUE Premlin-Things (it’s what she deserves after Hot Spring had been cut) and uh, most of the jokes but Shokugeki’s comedy was always rather strong for me.

But well, from what I can tell….We’ll now be getting into BLUE and yeah 🤷🏻‍♀️ I don’t care about BLUE. It’s an arc with nothing really redeemable about it to me and that I mainly associate with the destruction of a manga series I hold very, very dear. 

I don’t think I’ll even watch most of the BLUE-related episodes…I just care too little for that. 

But I’ll definitely stick around for the animated version of Les Dessert…

[blackkudos]

Harold O’Neal

Harold Mujahid O'Neal FRSA (born March 27, 1981) is an American composer, pianist, actor, dancer, and public speaker. He has recorded and performed with artists in a variety of musical genres (U2, Lupe Fiasco, Busta Rhymes, Damien Rice, Aloe Blacc, and Jay Z). O'Neal has been compared to Duke Ellington and Maurice Ravel by The New York Times and is considered to be of this generation's greatest pianists and composers. In 2019, he was inducted into the Royal Society of the Arts with the Patron being Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II.

Career

Harold O'Neal was born in Arusha, Tanzania, and raised in Kansas City, Missouri. His great-grandfather, Ollie Harold Pennington, was a jazz pianist and composer for silent film in Kansas City, where his grandmother walked to school with Charlie Parker. Harold began playing the piano by ear at age 4 on his father's miniature keyboard. He found his earliest inspirations in the music of Tom and Jerry, Looney Tunes, and Disney. While growing up, his family had a tradition of playing games together to find the distinct rhythms of songs. Having spent much of his youth living in the projects (Public Housing) and surviving near-death experiences, he credits music with saving his life.

O'Neal attended the Paseo Academy Of Fine And Performing Arts, with classmates Logan Richardson, Lil' Ronnie, and Brian Kennedy, where he began his jazz piano studies while being mentored by Ahmad Alaadeen. He studied classical piano and composition with Margie Cameron-Jarrett, whose musical lineage can be traced back to Franz Liszt. He began working with musical luminaries from a young age — touring the world with Bobby Watson when he was 19 after studying composition at the Berklee College Of Music. He then went on to study at the Manhattan School of Music. It was there where Harold met the great American jazz pianist and composer, Andrew Hill, with whom he soon became the apprentice of. Mr. Hill was an apprentice of prolific composer Paul Hindemith. Following Andrew Hill's advice, O'Neal left the Manhattan School of Music to replace pianist Jason Moran in the influential band, the Greg Osby 4, making his major-label debut recording for Blue Note Records at the age of 21. In 2004, O'Neal premiered a jazz quartet featuring Greg Osby, Jeff "Tain" Watts, and Matt Brewer.

In the following years, O'Neal released a number of albums including "Charlie's Suite" (2006), which was a compilation of his family's legacy, "Whirling Mantis" (2010) with a jazz quartet and a solo piano album "Marvelous Fantasy" (2011) on Smalls Records. He then partnered with Ski Beats and Damon Dash, after being signed to Universal Music Group as a songwriter and producer, to release the albums 24 Hour Karate School 2 (2011), Twilight (2012) and Cam'Ron And Vado's Blu Tops (2012). In 2012, O'Neal formed a partnership with producers Lil Ronnie and Jerry Wonda working with many Pop and R&B artists (Miguel, Akon, Melissa Ethridge, Raphael Saadiq, French Montana). In 2013, he released the album "Man On The Street" featuring a jazz quartet as well as solo piano for Universal. O'Neal worked as an additional composer on the 2015 Disney film Tomorrowland with Anthony Giacchino, which starred George Clooney and Britt Robertson. The film was directed by Brad Bird with the bulk of the film-score being composed by Michael Giacchino. His solo piano album "Piano Cinema" was released in May 2018, with "Sam and Sam" serving as the lead single. Following the album release, O'Neal completed a spring tour across the U.S. with The Blk Shp with Pixar as a partner.

Notable Events

Electric Burma

On June 18, 2012, Harold performed with U2, Lupe Fiasco, Bob Geldof, Damien Rice, Angelique Kidjo and many other major artists for the presentation of Amnesty International's prestigious 'Ambassador of Conscience' Award to Aung San Suu Kyi. The award was originally announced from the stage when U2 played Croke Park in July 2009 - while the Burmese Nobel Peace Prize recipient was still under house arrest in Burma.

Global Citizen: World On Stage

On September 22, 2016, Harold performed with Aloe Blacc and Maya Jupiter for The Global Citizen Festival's The World On Stage, a night curated by Tom Morello and Jon Batiste. The evening was dedicated to several prominent speakers who addressed various causes—such as education, the refugee crisis, gender equality, poverty, hunger, and much more—and the presentation of the inaugural George Harrison Global Citizen award, presented by Paul Simon to Olivia and Dhani Harrison (George's widow and son).

The BLK SHP Bus Tours

Harold is a key member of Blk Shp (Black Sheep) -- a diverse collective of educators, entrepreneurs, and artists. With the recent Blk Shp Bus Tour the group traveled across the U.S. in search of untold American mentorship stories. Exploring a range of disciplines: from classroom experiences to museums to blacksmiths; BLK SHP partnered in this project with Pixar. Pixar—who are famous for their original and inspiring movies—co-hosted many of the Bus Tour workshops, having inspired the origin of BLK SHP back in 2012. Today, the BLK SHP community includes over 3,000 creative specialists in North America and abroad.

Benjamin Franklin Medal Ceremony

Herbie Hancock received the prestigious Benjamin Franklin Medal (Royal Society of Arts) from the Royal Society for the Arts on December 4, 2018 at the Annenberg Center for the Performing Arts in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania—being recognized for his long lifetime of creative achievements and humanitarian efforts. The 264-year-old Royal Society for the Arts, based in London, includes Franklin as a founding fellow and initiated the Benjamin Franklin medal in 1956 to honor people who transcend their vocation to generally benefit mankind. The ceremony featured bassist Christian McBride and pianist Harold O’Neal as guest star performers, each musically representing the electric and acoustic side of Herbie's legacy.

Film and Television

In 2009, O'Neal appeared as an actor in Jay Z's music video for the hit record Young Forever, from his multi-platinum album The Blueprint 3. In 2010, he was cast in the HBO television series Boardwalk Empire, portraying James P. Johnson. He was also featured in MTV's Sucker Free as a principal dancer.

Miscellaneous

Harold is the nephew of Pete O'Neal, former leader of the Black Panther Party

He holds a black belt in kenpo karate having spent significant time as a full contact kickboxer

Harold's cousin is Emanuel Cleaver, a member of the U.S. House of Representatives

He is a member of the legendary breakdance crew, the Dynamic Rockers

Harold is considered by many to be a polymath.

[alexsmitposts]

Can We Trust the WHO? The most influential organization in the world with nominal responsibility for global health and epidemic issues is the United Nations’ World Health Organization, WHO, based in Geneva. What few know is the actual mechanisms of its political control, the shocking conflicts of interest, corruption and lack of transparency that permeate the agency that is supposed to be the impartial guide for getting through the current COVID-19 pandemic. The following is only part of what has come to public light. Pandemic declaration? On January 30 Tedros Adhanom, Director-General of the UN World Health Organization declared a Public Health Emergency of International Concern or PHIEC. This came two days after Tedros met with China President Xi Jinping in Beijing to discuss the dramatic rise in severe cases of a novel coronavirus in Wuhan and surrounding areas that had reached dramatic proportions. Announcing his emergency PHIEC declaration, Tedros praised the Chinese quarantine measures, measures highly controversial in public health and never before in modern times attempted with entire cities, let alone countries. At the same time Tedros, curiously, criticized other countries who were moving to block flights to China to contain the strange new disease, leading to charges he was unduly defending China. The first three cases in Wuhan were reported, officially, on December 27, 2019, a full month earlier. The cases were all diagnosed with pneumonia from a “novel” or new form of SARS Coronavirus. Important to note is that the largest movement of people in the year, China’s Lunar New Year and Spring Festival, during which some 400 million citizens move throughout the land to join families went from January 17 through February 8. On January 23, at 2am two days before start of actual New Year festivities, Wuhan authorities declared an unprecedented lockdown of the entire city of 11 million as of 10am that day. By then, hundreds of thousands if not several million residents had fled in panic to avoid the quarantine. By the time the WHO declared its Public Health Emergency of International Concern on 30 January, precious weeks had been lost to contain the disease. Yet Tedros effusively praised the “unprecedented” Chinese measures and criticized other countries for placing “stigma” on Chinese by cutting travel. In reference to the Wuhan COVID-19 spread and why WHO did not call it a pandemic, the WHO spokesman, Tarik Jasarevic, stated “There is no official category (for a pandemic)…WHO does not use the old system of 6 phases — that ranged from phase 1 (no reports of animal influenza causing human infections) to phase 6 (a pandemic) — that some people may be familiar with from H1N1 in 2009.” Then, in an about-face, on March 11, Tedros Adhanom announced for the first time that WHO was calling the novel coronavirus illness, now renamed COVID-19, a “global pandemic.” At that point WHO said there were more than 118,000 cases of COVID-19 in 114 countries, with 4,291 deaths. 2009 WHO Fake Pandemic Since an earlier WHO fiasco and scandal in 2009 over its declaration of a global pandemic around the “swine flu” or H1N1 as it was termed, the WHO decided to drop using the term pandemic. The reason is indicative of the corruption endemic to the WHO institution. Just weeks before first reports in 2009 of a young Mexican child being infected with a novel H1N1 “swine flu” virus in Veracruz, the WHO had quietly changed the traditional definition of pandemic. No longer was it necessary a reported disease be extremely widespread in many countries and extremely deadly or debilitating. It need only be widespread, like seasonal flu, should WHO “experts” want to declare pandemic. WHO H1N1 symptoms were the same as a bad cold. When then-WHO Director-General Dr Margaret Chan officially declared a Phase 6 global Pandemic emergency, that triggered national emergency programs including billions of dollars of government purchases of alleged H1N1 vaccines. At the end of the 2009 flu season it turned out the deaths due to H1N1 were tiny relative to the normal seasonal flu. Dr Wolfgang Wodarg, a German physician specialising in Pulmonology, was then chairman of the Parliamentary Assembly of the Council of Europe. In 2009 he called for an inquiry into alleged conflicts of interest surrounding the EU response to the Swine Flu pandemic. The Netherlands Parliament as well discovered that Professor Albert Osterhaus of the Erasmus University in Rotterdam, the person at the center of the worldwide Swine Flu H1N1 Influenza A 2009 pandemic as the key advisor to WHO on influenza, was intimately positioned to personally profit from the billions of euros in vaccines allegedly aimed at H1N1. Many of the other WHO scientific experts who advised Dr Chan to declare pandemic were receiving money directly or indirectly from Big Pharma including GlaxoSmithKline, Novartis and other major vaccine-makers. The WHO Swine Flu Pandemic declaration was a fake. 2009-10 saw the mildest influenza worldwide since medicine began tracking it. The pharma giants took in billions in the process. It was after the 2009 pandemic scandal that the WHO stopped using the 6 phase pandemic declaration and went to the totally vague and confusing “Public Health Emergency of International Concern.” But now, Tedros and WHO arbitrarily decided to reintroduce the term pandemic, admitting though that they are still in the midst of creating yet a new definition of the term. “Pandemic” triggers more fear than “Public Health Emergency of International Concern.” WHO’s SAGE Still Conflicted Despite the huge 2009-10 conflict-of-interest scandals linking Big Pharma to WHO, today the WHO under Tedros has done little to clean out corruption and conflicts of interest. The current WHO Scientific Advisory Group of Experts (SAGE) is riddled with members who receive “financially significant” funds from either major vaccine makers, or the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation (BGMF) or Wellcome Trust. In the latest posting by WHO of the 15 scientific members of SAGE, no fewer than 8 had declared interest, by law, of potential conflicts. In almost every case the significant financial funder of these 8 SAGE members included the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation, Merck & Co. (MSD), Gavi, the Vaccine Alliance (a Gates-funded vaccine group), BMGF Global Health Scientific Advisory Committee, Pfizer, Novovax, GSK, Novartis, Gilead, and other leading pharma vaccine players. So much for independent scientific objectivity at WHO. Gates and WHO The fact that many of the members of WHO’s SAGE have financial ties to the Gates Foundation is highly revealing, even if not surprising. Today the WHO is primarily financed not by UN member governments, but by what is called a “public-private partnership” in which private vaccine companies and the group of Bill Gates-sponsored entities dominate. In the latest available financial report of WHO, for December 31, 2017, slightly more than half of the $2+ billion General Fund Budget of WHO was from private donors or external agencies such as World Bank or EU. Far the largest private or non-government funders of WHO are the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation together with Gates-funded GAVI Vaccine Alliance, the Gates-initiated Global Fund to Fight AIDS, Tuberculosis and Malaria (GFATM). Those three provided more than $474 million to WHO. The Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation alone gave a whopping $324,654,317 to WHO. By comparison, the largest state donor to WHO, the US Government, gave $401 million to WHO. Among other private donors we find the world’s leading vaccine and drug makers including Gilead Science (currently pressing to have its drug as treatment for COVID-19), GlaxoSmithKline, Hoffmann-LaRoche, Sanofi Pasteur, Merck Sharp and Dohme Chibret and Bayer AG. The drug makers gave tens of millions of dollars to WHO in 2017. This private pro-vaccine industry support for the WHO agenda from the Gates Foundation and Big Pharma is more than a simple conflict of interest. It is a de facto high-jacking of the UN agency responsible for coordinating worldwide responses to epidemics and disease. Further, the Gates Foundation, the world’s largest at some $50 billion, invests its tax-exempt dollars in those same vaccine makers including Merck, Novartis, Pfizer, GlaxoSmithKline. Against this background it should come as no surprise that Ethiopian politician, Tedros Adhanom, became head of WHO in 2017. Tedros is the first WHO director not a medical doctor despite his insistence on using Dr. as title. His is a doctor of philosophy in community health for “research investigating the effects of dams on the transmission of malaria in the Tigray region of Ethiopia.” Tedros, who was also Ethiopia Minister of Foreign Affairs until 2016, met Bill Gates when he was Ethiopian Health Minister and became Board Chair of the Gates-linked Global Fund Against HIV/AIDS, TB and Malaria. Under Tedros, the notorious corruption and conflicts of interest at WHO have continued, even grown. According to a recent report by the Australian Broadcasting Corporation, in 2018 and 2019 under Tedros, the WHO Health Emergencies Program, the section responsible for the COVID-19 global response, was cited with the highest risk rating noting the “failure to adequately finance the program and emergency operations [risks] inadequate delivery of results at country level.” The ABC report further found that there has also been a “surge in internal corruption allegations across the whole of the organisation, with the detection of multiple schemes aimed at defrauding large sums of money from the international body.” Not very reassuring. In early March Oxford University stopped using WHO data on COVID-19 because of repeated errors and inconsistencies the WHO refused to correct. The WHO test protocols for coronavirus tests have repeatedly been cited by various countries including Finland for flaws and false positives and other defects. This is the WHO which we now trust to guide us through the worst health crisis of the past century.

[harryandmolly]

The Emancipation of Ginny ~ 2

summary: shawn and ginny could’ve ruined everything six months ago, and sticking together despite their past could make or break them now as ginny stays on as his personal assistant. but what happens on tour doesn’t stay on tour.

warnings: Language, rain, misappropriation of Taylor Swift lyrics

WC: 6.4k

The night was unseasonably warm. The Hofbrauhaus employees seemed to want to take advantage, leaving the windows open so the sounds of rowdy midnight drinkers and the lederhosen-wearing folk singers travel out alluringly to passersby on the streets of Munich.

The team sat down for drinks at 6pm, ate enough schnitzel to lay down a base for more beer, and continued to drink stein after stein until the place largely emptied out.

Ginny laughs, loud and hearty and hiccuppy at Andrew joining in with the folk singers even though he doesn’t speak a word of German. The rest of the team, here to celebrate a very successful festival stop nearby, are largely occupied watching the fiasco.

Ginny’s Shawn radar has been carefully honed after working for him for four months. When she doesn’t hear his deep, throaty chuckle, she looks around. He’s disappeared.

Or, she thinks he has until the long, large table she’s sitting at jumps a little with a loud smack.

“Oh, fuck!”

Ginny ducks her head under the table. Shawn is crouched beneath, rubbing the back of his head and squinting up at her. She tilts her head and coos. Something, probably something at the bottom of the glasses in the two very large steins of hefeweizen she drank, has her crawling under the table after him.

He’s hunched over, too tall to sit comfortably beneath the table. Since Ginny is only two or three inches shorter, she too is scrunched up beside him.

“Dropped my phone,” Shawn mumbles, shaking his head, chuckling at himself.

Ginny makes a face and curls a hand around the back of his head comfortingly. “And you bumped your head.”

“I bumped my head,” Shawn sighs, closing his eyes and leaning back into her touch. It’s so disarmingly innocent, it sobers Ginny up for a moment.

When he opens his eyes and smiles at her, she feels drunk all over again.

“So great, having you on the team,” Shawn murmurs, pushing himself on his hands over the sticky floor to sit a bit closer to her. She swirls her thumb against his scalp in response. His eyes flutter shut.

“So great being on the team,” she says in a teasing voice, but it’s as sincere as any moment she’s ever had.

Shawn’s eyes are shut long enough for Ginny to study his profile and fall face first into the feelings she’s been covering up since that first plane ride. His cheeks are ruddy and pink from laughter and alcohol. He’s got a fresh, warm tan from playing festivals since the spring. He’s humming along to the German folk tune but she doesn’t think he realizes he’s doing it.

His eyes open. He looks over at her. Her hand stills on the back of his head.

Shawn leans in and kisses her like it’s something they’ve done a million times. The truth is, there’s nothing “first kiss”-y about it. It’s warm and easy and familiar and Ginny wonders if they’ve just spent entirely too much time together at this point to feel awkward about anything, including kissing under a warping wooden table in a 600-year old brewery with a barmaid in an Oktoberfest getup walking by swinging a bell and bellowing “closing now!” at the top of her strong German lungs to get them all the fuck out of there.

Ginny murmurs into his mouth, the first time he gets that pretty sound out of her. It makes his dulled senses come alive, sends his nerve endings sizzling in the warm, late summer breeze. He revels for a second or two before he remembers who they are to each other. He breaks away, but only as far as her cheek because he’s still drunk and she’s still warm and soft and Ginny.

“Is it ok that I did that?” he pants.

She’s nodding before he finishes the thought. “Yes. Please. More.”

Those are the best words Shawn could’ve imagined leaving her sweet, wet mouth. It’s all he can do to keep from diving back in, wandering hands and all.

“Tonight.”

It’s a one word promise -- an adventure, a secret, a first chapter of a story to write together.

Ginny’s returning grin puts the pen to paper.

+

How many times has Ginny been told to ditch her notebook and go digital?

Well, at least once more now as she shuffles up to Shawn’s hotel room a few doors down from hers. She tugs at her long slender fingers, bounces on her toes and otherwise fidgets until she decides, after going through it all in her head again, that she has to knock on his door.

Ginny flicks her head back, tossing her hair a little as she clears her throat. Her knock is sharp and rapid -- Shawn always knows it’s her when she knocks like that. He had been just about to strip out of his gym clothes for a shower. She caught him just in time.

He sniffs as he opens the door. “Hey.”

Ginny makes a dejected face. “Do you have that bag? The green one, the backpack? I think my notebook was in it.”

Shawn’s face scrunches. He tilts his head back. “Aw, Gin, not again.”

“I’m sorry,” she moans, tipping her face forward into her hands, shaking her head, “I really am, I know it’s a problem, and I really have been better lately, but yesterday was mad. And I just can’t find it. Could you look?”

Shawn waves her inside and lets the door slam behind them. Ginny tries not to look too carefully around his room, because it usually leads to memories that tend to be painful to revisit so early in the morning. His bed is unmade and looking like he ripped all the sheets off in the middle of the night -- he’s not sleeping well, it seems. He has half a dozen water bottles stacked on his nightstand, covering his clock. His lyric notebooks and guitar are out.

“Are you writing today?” she hums, strapping her arms behind her back like she’s worried they’ll fly out and touch everything around her inappropriately. Including him.

Shawn bobs his head, lifting backpacks and duffels, peeking around suitcases.

“Yeah, I thought I’d just-- oh! There is is.” He hands her the old green Jansport backpack.

Ginny chews on her lip and rifles through it. Her stomach sinks. She makes a whimpering noise.

“Oh, no.”

Shawn sighs and perches on the end of his bed. “Ok, just relax.”

“That notebook has everything in it!” Ginny squawks, dumping the contents out on his bed, blinking hard around the realization that his sheets smell like him, I mean, of course they do, but wow, it’s kind of intoxicating and definitely not helping her frazzled brain right now.

“Please don’t do the ‘I’m the worst PA ever’ speech again,” he urges, widening his eyes at her and lifting his acoustic into his lap. When she makes him nervous, he uses the guitar as a shield.

Ginny shakes her head and stuffs her hands in her hair. Her chest tightens. Her pulse pounds in her ears. Her stomach swoops. She looks anywhere but his urgent eyes.

“It has my schedule, my numbers, my notes, my to-do list, my already done list, my ‘people to call and bug about things’ list. Oh god, and when I tell Andrew I’ve lost it again, he’s going to make the face.”

Shawn winces. He knows the face she means. It’s the closest he’s come to feeling the shame he got when his mother scolded him. Andrew does that face exceptionally well.

“Listen, we can fix this,” Shawn reasons, standing off the edge of the bed to come eye level with her. She screws her jaw up and lets her furrowed brow soften.

“How?”

He kicks at his sneakers and shrugs, “We’ll call everywhere we went yesterday and ask if they have it.”

Ginny offers him a hesitant smile. “I don’t have anyone’s numbers. They’re all--”

“In the notebook,” Shawn finishes with a huff. He squints at her, “Seriously, how do you even survive like that? You’re the only woman I know that uses her iPhone X for animojis, Spotify and absolutely no work stuff at all.”

Ginny’s heard it before, specifically the last time she misplaced her notebook, which Shawn helped her track down in Brooklyn. She wrinkles her nose.

“I get it, this is my sign from the universe. Go digital. I get it.”

Shawn decides to keep his snarky quip to himself, the one that says “the last time you lost it was the sign from the universe, this is the universe hitting you in the back of the head.”

“Kay, then we’ll go find it,” Shawn announces, lifting his shirt off from the collar and tossing it into a heap of dirty clothes.

Ginny blinks. “You’re writing today.”

“I’ll write later.”

“We have Taylor later,” she reminds him in a quiet, reverent voice that makes him laugh. He knows why -- they’ve been looking forward to this Taylor Swift show together for months. Ginny’s had her outfit planned for at least half that time. Not even her missing notebook could keep her away from Taylor’s third night at Wembley.

Shawn strolls toward the bathroom and thinks better of kicking his shorts off as he goes. He looks over his shoulder and smiles reassuringly.

“We’ll find it, Gin. London’s not that big.”

With a wink, he’s behind the bathroom door, turning on the water so hot the steam ripples out from underneath and muffles the sound of his wet clothes hitting the ground.

+

“We’re doing such a good job looking,” he praises, his voice throaty and quiet as he talks into the skin of her earlobe between sucking licks.

Ginny’s eyes flutter open. She drags a hand up the side of his thigh to give his bum a squeeze. “Mmm, best lookers ever.”

“Yeah. We’re so good looking,” he mumbles, nipping at the shell of her ear as she laughs.

“I’m such a minger, we’re never going to find it,” Ginny whines, running her hands up and down Shawn’s biceps in the back of the cab as they speed through Williamsburg, trying to remember the name of the bar they went into the night before where Ginny thinks she might’ve left the notebook. The motion is more soothing to Ginny than to Shawn.

He pulls away from the comforting smell of coconut oil by her ear and pecks her lips as they screech to a stop at a red light.

“‘S fine, baby. Even if we don’t find it, I’ll get you a shiny new notebook.”

He smirks teasingly, flicking at the delicate gold hoop in Ginny’s septum. He goes to speak again when Ginny plants her lips on his and swallows his gravelly moan as the cab swerves through a quickly changing yellow light.

+

The first stop? The BBC.

Ginny insists on a black cab. Shawn insists on the tube. Jake insists on a hired car.

Jake wins.

With a driver in the front seat and Jake beside him, and Shawn and Ginny in the back, Ginny tries not to see the resemblance to nights they used to go on these funny little chaperoned dates. In Toronto, they were left to their own devices, but if Shawn and Ginny wanted to go out in LA or New York or London or just about anywhere else, Jake tagged along. Neither of them argued, knowing first hand how Shawn’s fans can get sometimes. But when they were dating, Jake was a bit of a buzzkill.

(He did try to give them as much privacy as he could, though, bless him.)

Now, as Ginny watches red double decker buses full of shaggy Londoners cruise past, seeing signs for places like Elephant & Castle and Knightsbridge, she knows it’s different, as much as she’d like to reach across the center console and take his hand. She can’t.

He doesn’t want her to.

Ginny looks back at him. He’s staring out at his window at the Thames, bobbing his head like he’s writing melodies somewhere deep under those thick brown curls. She thinks of a million things she could say right now -- stupid little comments like the ones you make to a best friend who you could never be bored of. She holds them in so as not to distract him.

She looks back out the window at her hometown.

She doesn’t feel him looking back at her.

+

They don’t have any luck at all at the BBC. Shawn can’t very well come inside without causing absolute mayhem, so she hops out of the car in the pouring rain and races for the doors. Showing her ID gets her far enough to prove she was in the building yesterday, but they don’t have a notebook reported in lost and found and won’t let her upstairs to look.

She grumbles a begrudgingly polite “cheers, thanks very much” and heads back out, defeated.

When she gets back inside the car, Shawn is typing something on his phone and looking pink-cheeked. He doesn’t seem fazed when she announces her notebook is still at large. He just nods and suggests they head off to The Connaught.

Shawn does come in this time because it’s the middle of the day on a Wednesday and it’s quiet enough. He’s slumped over the marble counter of the concierge desk as they wait for the staff to check lost and found. He’s drumming his fingers and bobbing his head again, turned away from her.

Ginny smiles and tugs at a curl at the back of his neck for his attention. He turns, startled, but smiles at her smile.

“Working on something new?” she guesses.

He shrugs. “Sort of. It’s old. I got a new piece in my head for it, though.”

Ginny nods. He likes that she never presses him to make him tell her exactly what he’s working on. She knows he’ll show her when he’s ready.

Ginny looks up, studies the ceiling. She narrows her eyes, noticing little cracks that she wonders if they should be concerned about. She imagines this building is probably pretty old, given the neighborhood they’re in, and damage like that could--

“So are you seeing your mum and dad this trip?” Shawn chirps.

Ginny blinks hard, transitioning. “No, not this time.”

Shawn ducks his head, nodding a little. He’ll never get over that -- he’d never pass up an opportunity to see his parents these days. He has to remind himself not everyone has the same relationship to their family that he does.

“Don’t make that face,” she teases, stepping closer to him, rolling her eyes at the squelching sound her wellies make on the fine marble floor.

“What face?”

“The poor little orphan Annie face. I’m seeing them both in a few weeks when we’re on break and I have time to spend with them. Get to see my Han, too,” she adds, looking pleased.

Shawn is grateful for the out she gives him to step away from family chat. “Yeah? How’s she feeling?”

“Good, I think. She hasn’t started requesting pickle and mushroom-flavored ice cream, so we’ve got that to look forward to.”

Shawn makes a horrified face. “Jesus.”

Ginny shrugs. “Pregnancy’s mad.”

Shawn widens his eyes, agreeing silently with a nod of his head as the concierge reappears looking faintly apologetic.

On to the next.

+

The Waterstone’s in Piccadilly Circus is another place Shawn shouldn’t walk into without a full squad of security. Piccadilly is a hotbed of tourists, even on a horrible, rainy weekday. Ginny runs in under Shawn’s watchful gaze. Ten minutes later, she slogs back out, arms crossed over her chest, hood struggling to fit over her tuft of curls. He leans across the seat to open the door for her. She settles and flips back her hood, smacking her red-painted lips. Shawn flattens his lips sympathetically.

“Fuck. I’m so sorry, Shawn.”

Shawn shakes his head. “Gin, it’s a day off. You’re not my PA today, you’re my friend.”

“Yeah,” she chuckles darkly, “Your friend who dragged you out of a perfectly lovely writing day, I know how you love to write in the rain, to go hunting for a notebook I should’ve digitized months ago.

Shawn snorts. “If you’re trying to get me to fire you, you’re going to have to do better than that.”

Ginny tilts back against the headrest and feels the tears of frustration start to well. She fights them back, but she’s exhausted and overwhelmed. A stray tear trickles and catches Shawn’s attention.

He leans over the console, slow and gentle. He nudges the tear off her sharp jaw onto his finger and decides to pull his hand back rather than slip it back against her scalp to massage her. She blinks quickly, embarrassed, so he doesn’t coddle her. He turns his gaze forward through the battering rain against the windshield and nods.

“We have one more place to look. And I have an idea.”

+

Shawn looks up blearily, aware he must have dozed off. A solid, sweep-you-off-your-feet orgasm combined with a big meal, a day off, very little sleep and a rainy afternoon will do that.

He looks for her before he consciously thinks of anything else. He finds her sitting in the windowsill, watching the downpour. He smiles. She hates rain in every city in the world except when she’s here, home in London.

She’s in his Harvard sweater and a little pair of black panties, lying on the cushioned window seat of their little boutique hotel by Regent’s Park with her extraordinarily long legs stretched up above her, propped against the sill.

She looks like his next album cover waiting to happen.

She turns to look at him when she hears the sheets rustle. She lifts a sweater paw and waves bashfully. He grins, waving back. His chest hurts. The I love you is fighting so hard to break out of his heart it feels like a wild stallion against his ribcage.

To distract himself, he rolls over, snags his phone off the nightstand and sits up, framing her in portrait mode. She doesn’t shy away from the camera, special dispensation for just himself and Josiah.

If he were a normal 21-year-old with a normal job and a normal life, he wouldn’t hesitate to make that photo his lock screen background. As it is, he saves it and focuses on the fact that if he were a normal guy with a normal life, he’d never have met her.

+

They pull up outside the water cab station. Ginny narrows her eyes and looks between Shawn and the absolutely empty queue leading up to the boat which has maybe four or five commuters onboard. Shawn’s eyes are full of wonder. He nods at the Range Rover door for her to open it.

“C’mon, let’s go.”

“Shawn. Rain,” Ginny points out weakly, knowing he won’t be swayed from this. He loves the romance of this -- not the fun, hand-holding, whispered kisses kind of romance, but the Byron and Keats kind, the kind that has him furiously scribbling lyrics into his phone while she holds an umbrella over them in the downpour.

“It’s pretty, though,” he says wistfully, turning his head to look out the window again, “Look! There’s the London Eye. We’ll get a good view from the boat.”

He nudges her to get her to move faster. She grumbles about how Londoners hate the Millennium Eye and his English mother should be ashamed of him, but opens the door to step out. He’s prodding her sides, taking the umbrella Jake offers to hold it over them. Ginny tries not to jump a foot in the air when he puts a friendly hand on her midback to keep them close under the cover of the umbrella, guiding her toward the boat that’s headed for Battersea.

The boat has an enclosed section with seats. The other six people on the boat either don’t know or care who the hell Shawn Mendes is and are instead busy being perturbed, tutting about the weather.

Shawn plunks into a seat by one of the windows to look out at the view of Westminster as they begin to chug past. It is sort of sweet how he bumps her elbow and points out Big Ben like she’s never seen it before.

It’s even sweeter, perhaps, because they’re left alone.

Ginny realizes after a minute or two that Jake has made himself scarce the way he used to when Shawn and Ginny were on a date. He’s a few rows behind them, checking his phone and keeping an eye out for trouble, like always. Shawn hasn’t seemed to notice the familiar behavior, he’s too caught up in the river view.

Ginny catches Jake’s eye and lifts a brow. Jake shrugs innocently and looks away like he has absolutely no angle here at all, what, who, me? Ginny covers a snort by a cough and turns back, crossing her legs toward Shawn.

“I bet my life would be so different if I grew up here,” Shawn muses, eyes glittering as they pass the Parliament building, becoming slightly more visible as the rain thins.

“Did I tell you my parents almost moved here before I was born?” Shawn hums. Ginny smiles and shakes her head.

“Can’t imagine you with a posh London accent. You’d make your fans even more insane than they are,” Ginny jokes. The tips of Shawn’s ears pink up. He shakes his head.

“Maybe I never would’ve gotten into music at all. Maybe I would’ve become obsessed with football.”

Ginny wets her lips and tilts her head from side to side. “It’s possible. You could’ve become a rowdy, Chelsea-obsessed chav. But… I don’t think you found the music, mate. Think it’s there, no matter where you are or what you’re surrounded by.”

Shawn swallows. He looks over. In the bluish-gray light of the rainy afternoon, Ginny glows like the tip of a cigarette in the dark. Her smile is gentle, the best comfort he knows. He turns his gaze down to his lap and bobs his head.

“I think you’re right. I think it’s that way for us both.”

Ginny laughs, tinkling and light, “That’s perhaps generous.”

Shawn shakes his head with determination. “You’re every bit the musician I am, though. You really are.”

Ginny’s jaw muscle twitches. She picks at a hangnail. “I don’t write music.”

“You could,” Shawn adds, eyes going wide, “If we just sat down with a piano and a guitar, I think--”

“Hey, listen,” she laughs awkwardly, cutting him off like she always does when he starts to poke his finger down this rabbit hole, “I’m just fine with my little home movies. They’re just for me, like an athlete with game tape. I’m content.”

Shawn swallows his words.

You could be better than content. You could be so fucking great.

It’s not his place. It wasn’t then, it isn’t now.

He backs off because they’re practically alone on this boat cruising down the Thames and he’s too relaxed to pick a fight with her. Instead, he sits forward, elbows on his knees and stares. Ginny measures out a one, two, three count, admiring his profile in the misty light before turning her attention to her phone.

“Hmm?” Shawn murmurs. Ginny looks up to see him gazing back at her curiously. He gets twitchy when she appears to be working and he’s relaxing.

“It’s the house rental for Josiah’s stag do,” she answers, scrolling through the email confirmation of the villa they’ve rented in Ibiza for the event.

Shawn chuckles, sitting back against the bench, watching the sea of umbrellas around the Tate as they float past.

“Still can’t believe you volunteered to plan that.”

Ginny lifts her chin. “If I can handle Hannah Dyer’s hen do, I can manage Josiah Van Dien. Plus, his best man is his 15-year-old cousin. If I hadn’t stepped in, he might not have had a stag do.”

Shawn shakes his head fondly. “And he deserves it.”

“He most certainly does,” Ginny confirms. She feels Shawn’s breath on her cheek as he tilts his head to watch her thumb through her inbox.

“Better save that email. We don’t have a notebook to write it all down.”

Ginny’s eyes lift. His look is sleepy and teasing. She would give anything to cup a hand around his cheek and tilt her forehead against his, just for a quiet moment. They both always liked that -- being centered together.

Instead, she bumps him with her elbow and worries her teeth into her lower lip.

+

The notebook is dead. Long live the notebook.

Shawn did his level best to distract her, rambling on about the single and the promo and Hannah and Josiah’s wedding and anything else he could think of. If nothing else, she’s soothed by the sound of his voice.

But back at the hotel, she faces the music. Shawn gives her shoulder a squeeze when he drops her off outside Andrew’s room before skittering off to his own to get back to his guitar. Beneath the dull reverberation of her fist against Andrew’s door, she hears the unmistakable strumming of the Martin acoustic Shawn’s so fond of.

Andrew lets her in, wrapping up a call. She takes quiet mental notes of the highlights she picks out -- “ok, I’ll have that to you Thursday at the latest. Sure, I’ll tell him. Yes, I’ll ask about that” -- the things she can pin into and remind him about to keep the ship running smoothly.

Or… smooth-ish.

As he hits ‘end call,’ she hands him a sad attempt at a cup of tea from what’s available to them from hotel convenience. He smiles gratefully and tips his glasses up on his head, rubbing his eyes as she settles into the armchair across from him.

“Ok, so what’s wrong?” Andrew guesses.

Ginny winces and somehow manages to tuck her outrageously long legs up into her chest and tilt her head. “Lost the notebook again.”

Andrew groans. “C’mon, Gin.”

“I know. I’m sorry, I am. I’ve learned my lesson. I’ve already rebuilt it in my phone though,” she announces hopefully, waving her coral iPhone in the air.

“How?” Andrew laughs, sipping the tea she always makes too sweet.

She shrugs, “Remembered most of it. Called your office and got the phone numbers I was missing. I downloaded a bunch of apps. Set up reminders. I’m a 21st century girl now.”

Andrew decides to sidestep the Zenon reference he was about to make, and the lecture he doesn’t think she needs.

“Do you want to yell?” she offers, “You can yell if you want.”

“Nope. It doesn’t spark joy,” Andrew sighs, silencing a notification on his phone.

Ginny’s quiet for a minute. Her lips twitch like they do when she’s trying to get her mouth around words she’s too proud to say. Andrew waits patiently.

“I’m sorry. I know I’ve dropped more balls than I’ve meant to in these last couple months. I’d hate for you to think I’m not up to this. I know it’s… unconventional to say the least.”

Unconventional to continue employing his artist’s ex as his PA?

…. Unconventional barely covers it.

Andrew wets his lower lip and bobs his head. “Yeah, but you know as well as I do that in this business trusting our instincts has to come out on top. I knew when you sat down to talk to me, even before Shawn did, that keeping you on wasn’t going to be a mistake. I knew you wanted to learn and you weren’t going to let anything get in the way. And I mean, fuck, Ginny, you lost your notebook and were able to recreate the entire schedule and to-do list and all of it in a couple of hours. I don’t think you give yourself enough credit.”

Ginny hadn’t been fishing for compliments when she confronted the issue so when they come, especially from a boss she admires and really dearly loves so much, they make her fidgety.

“Right, well thanks,” Ginny replies stiffly, bobbing her head, “I’ve added a reminder to finalize that week of August 18th before Thursday, a reminder to tell Jake about the help with security in New York and a reminder to ask Cez about the lighting for the 21st. They should sync to your calendar.”

Andrew rolls his eyes affectionately. “Thank you, Virginia.”

Ginny wrinkles her nose at the use of her full name and shoots him finger guns on her way out the door, trying not to listen at Shawn’s door at the bridge he’s working on because she knows he’ll let her hear it when he’s ready.

+

Upon a beige leather throne, in expensive athleisure, surrounded by her cats with her legs crossed beneath her pretzel-style is Queen Taylor in all her magnetic, approachable glory.

Ginny’s fingers twist around Shawn’s when they enter. She wasn’t particularly nervous to meet her until Shawn mentioned off-hand that he’s never brought a girl to one of Taylor’s shows and he’s not sure how she’ll react. The faucet of anxiety started dripping until Shawn’s fingers were going pink in Ginny’s grip and he was squirming to get them away from her.

“Chill out,” he chuckles in her ear, brushing his lips against her earlobe and it’s meant to be soothing but he does it in front of Taylor fucking Swift so it only makes it worse.

Taylor’s in hair and makeup already, so the dichotomy of her comfy leggings and hoodie against her angled sleek bob and the deep purple palette used on her delicate features is startling. She stands to greet them and quickly makes jokes about her delight in having more tall people around. It’s disarming in a way Ginny thinks only someone so grand and likeable like Taylor could pull off.

She hugs Shawn warmly, rubbing his back and laughing at a joke Ginny couldn’t hear over the rushing noise in her ears. When Taylor turns her attention to Ginny, Ginny just grins.

Taylor swings her into a hug just as affectionate as Shawn’s and giggles in Ginny’s ear like they’re old friends who share secrets, “I can’t believe he brought a girl back here, he must be so into you.”

Ginny goes hot under her skin and reaches for Shawn’s hand again as soon as Taylor releases her. She looks them over with a smiling nod of approval and welcomes them to sit, showering them with offers of food and drinks. Despite the rush and whirl of Taylor’s team around her, she gets them drinks herself, asks about Ginny’s hometown, about what got her into music. Ginny narrowly avoids elbowing Shawn in the ribs when he mentions all too proudly that Ginny’s a singer, too, and she’s “completely amazing.”

Taylor rightfully senses that leaping all over Ginny asking to watch her clips or hear about what she’s working on would send Ginny spiraling. Instead, she beams, warmly and very believably tells Ginny she’d love for her to send her something to look at -- Shawn has all her info.

They don’t spend too long backstage before Taylor has to get changed. She hugs them both warmly again, plants a kiss on each of their cheeks. She shares that look, that one that feels like they’re the two most important people at her show, and can’t resist a comment:

“You guys are so great together. Keep making each other happy, please.”

Back then, it was hard to imagine them doing anything else. 

That show was Shawn and Ginny’s intro to the world as a couple. He didn’t give a moment’s pause to holding her hand, to wrapping his arms around her and swaying her as he sang in her ear. He kissed her during “New Years Day” for all to see. In fact, those were the fanarazzi shots seen around the world.

As the internet screamed, Shawn and Ginny sang, pounding their hands on their chests, squeezing each other’s fingers as they wailed along to their collective favorite Taylor song, “Love Story.”

Their singing was loud enough to drown out everything, at least for a while.

+

There’s no time for a pre-show visit this time and for that Ginny can be eternally grateful. She has no idea what Taylor does and doesn’t know about their breakup or the circumstances surrounding it, so avoiding the subject altogether feels safest.

Shawn and Ginny bring along a crew of friends and teammates, all of whom are balking at the sights and sounds of Wembley Arena. Ginny sticks fairly close to Shawn as they go through the different sectors of security, receive passes, and are led to the friends and family section where Ginny ducks her head to avoid the gazes of people like Karlie Kloss and Cara Delevingne.

She’s busying herself chatting with Brian who’s attempting to argue that Reputation was a better album than 1989 and Ginny’s trying to explain how simply insane that is when the lights go down.

Ginny’s been to every Taylor tour since the Fearless tour in 2009, she’s no stranger to the caliber of show she can put on, but to be continually mesmerized and impressed by the live performance after being a fan for so long is a feat, as Ginny sees it.

She looks over to Shawn, watches him grin at the theatrics of the stage and get swallowed up by the talent of his friend. Ginny hopes people feel about Shawn’s shows the way she does about Taylor’s. She knows she does.

She’s caught in a glance. He feels her gaze and looks over midway through “Delicate.” In the months since their breakup, she got exceptionally good at turning away just before he’d catch her eye. Maybe she’s tired, maybe she’s off her game, maybe it’s the innate romance of a Taylor Swift show that has her keeping her neck stiff and leaving her eyes on him for him to find.

His smile is warm and soft -- it’s not loaded down with unspoken words or regret or questions or resentment or history. It’s just Shawn smiling at Ginny. Ginny smiles back.

Five songs later, Taylor’s heel strikes the stage as she pounds through the “marry me, Juliet” section of “Love Story.” Shawn and Ginny can’t hear it. They’re gripping each other’s arms, jumping, singing way too loud.

+

Ginny would be perfectly happy returning to the hotel, thank you very much, but she’s outvoted tonight.

Taylor’s on a flight to Tokyo practically the moment the lights go up, so they have to find another way to entertain themselves. During the show, a couple of Shawn’s people have mixed with the model people and now all the people are heading to Shoreditch House which is absolutely fine with Ginny except it’s not really because she’s exhausted and there’s nothing she loves more than locking herself in a room with a piano after a Taylor show. But where Shawn goes, Ginny goes. At least on work days.

The series of enormous tinted-windowed Range Rovers pick them up from the bowels of Wembley. The group is all mixed up now -- Brian has made some new model friends, Josiah and Cara are laughing about something in the back row of the car Ginny’s squished into beside some really attractive celebrity types that Ginny only vaguely recognizes. Shawn’s in the other car.

She actually likes Shoreditch House. It’s always been one of Hannah’s favorite spots. If Hannah weren’t a sneeze away from being a new mum, she’d probably be game to join them and Ginny would feel a lot more enthusiastic. But Hannah’s across town asleep curled around a body pillow with her husband playing video games on a low volume in the next room. So Gin’s on her own.

Not exactly on her own, of course. She knows about half the people there. Andrew and Cez have bailed but the rest of the squad is still assembled. They go wandering into the converted warehouse seeking out drinks and a party.

Ginny can’t see Shawn anymore, but that’s ok. She’s had several (many, many) shots of tequila now and no longer minds not being in a dark hotel room with a keyboard and the voice memos app because she’s got an arm around Geoff and they’re scrambling words from different Taylor songs from different eras and for some reason it’s the funniest thing in the world.

She’s not looking, but she catches sight of him anyway. He’s standing by the bar, towering over a short, dark eyed, ombre-haired woman wearing a very expensive dress. His eyes are all alight with whatever story he’s telling. He’s having fun. Ginny smiles and turns back to Geoff, who’s mashing up the words to “White Horse” and “Blank Space” and it’s absurd and not funny but fuck, it’s so funny.

Shawn doesn’t make the rounds, exactly. He says goodbye to a handful of people who will spread the word that he’s off to the rest of the group. He drops the information skillfully, strategically, so Ginny’s the last to know. She knows he does it to be delicate, so she doesn’t accidentally see him leaving with his arm around someone, because he’s thoughtful even when he’s horny.

It’s not the first time since they’ve broken up, anyway. She figures eventually, when it’s comfortable, he’ll go back to his usual farewell to her which usually includes a squeeze around the waist and a murmur in her ear that he’ll see her tomorrow, don’t worry, he has his alarm set, he won’t be late. She never has to remind him, though. He’s never late.

When Jake leans into her ear to tell her the cars are out back and Shawn’s already left, Ginny can fill in the blanks even with her tequila-soaked brain. She nods and turns away because she knows exactly what kind of look is on Jake’s face and she doesn’t want to see it.

They round up and head out, models in one set of cars, Shawn’s team in the other. Geoff plays Taylor Swift on Bluetooth all the way back to the hotel. Ginny nods her head to “Love Story” because she can’t cry, she can’t scream, she can’t even pout. She can just breathe and watch the river go by.

Pls support Taylor shipping the hell out of Shinny and buy me a Ko-fi (link on homepage)!

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