#Karane has the nose

[alphagirl404]

The Popular Theory: “Groose has to be an early ancestor of the Gerudo!”

Me on the other Hand: “That’s valid, but...hear me out...”

[maybe-boys-do-love]

Was thinking today about Cherry Magic Thailand, and all respect to the writing (which deftly navigated the challenging task of adapting a full-on classic) and the rest of the cast and crew, but has any QL series' success hinged so much on a single actor going above and beyond in a performance as Cherry Magic Thailand does on Tay Tawan's portrayal of Karan???

That character could have fallen so detrimentally flat. He is perfection personified. Even after Achi discovers his so-called 'imperfections' (which are just that he sings bad and is crushing extra hard on Achi), the writing doesn't ever let Karan come off his pedestal. He remains put together, impossibly patient, and admirably righteous. His stress in life is that people don't respect his hard work because he's so beautiful! This character, in theory, should not really strike an audience as likeable. The writers could have used the one facet of his family-drama that emerges in the penultimate episode to build a deeper character in the writing, but elect not to even hint at it any earlier in the series.

So much heavy lifting is left to Tay, and the performance is a wonder to behold. Tay Tawan is certainly attractive in the way Karan is supposed to be attractive--fit, tall, handsome--but Tay's face and earnest dorky demeanor are unique in a way that seem far too rare in the influencer era. The breadth of his nose, the goofy joy in his smile, the clownish clumsiness, the nerdiness of his interests (the GMMTV actor most likely to be reposting a popular science article or rare animal sighting): Tay brings all of these elements of himself to bear on the poised idol of Karan, playing all the parts of the romantic hero while letting his own characteristics distill onto it so that the character actually contains valuable tension for the audience between his faultlessness and the slow reveal of his sincerity. That dynamic lies at the core of the show, and it's a less explored one in media, so all the more challenging to do.

But Tay understands the assignment. He goes full-in when Achi hears Karan's inner voice, squealing and talking manically fast (a real-life Tay Tawanism as well as a wonderful connection to Japanese performance styles). Once the characters begin their romance, so much effort is put in to have Karan looking at Achi, not just with love, but with the deepest gratitude. That's what most often had me crying. In fact, it often looked like Karan was on the verge of happy tears, overwhelmed by the fortune to love and be allowed to love Achi.

Being able to appreciate Karan's sincerity opens up an avenue for the audience to care about his challenges that on the surface seem so superficial. Tay is able to take this character's struggle to be taken seriously and make it as worthy and pitiable as any narrative about women in the workplace struggling with that issue, and that's not an easy feat in this day and age. Whether in Karan's affections or disappointments, Tay exhibits such humility and unabashedness in his performance throughout the series, it renders the otherwise familiar messages about the value of the small unappreciated things in the world as enchanted and life-changing.

And incredibly amongst all this, the series REQUIRES by its very title for Karan to have a sex drive, and even that desire threads through Tay's portrayal of the character as he interacts with Achi, maintaining an incredible balance between a fun and dorky excitement about sex and a potent sensuality (it's such a great sex scene when it finally comes).

Tay took a paragon and made him such a fully fleshed-out and realized character. I just can't imagine the series working without such a masterfully crafted performance. The whole cast did great work, don't get me wrong. Tay's is just one of those magical reminders about what the art of acting can achieve.

[juleswrites223]

10 Things desi!girlfriend has said ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

☆ Carlos Sainz jr x desi!reader ☆

1. Agar mei haar gayi toh mei kalesh kar dungi, dekh lena (if I lose then I’ll create a fight, just you watch)- This was when she was playing uno with Carlos and his friends

2. Give them money and still we have to cook ourselves anyway, could've stayed at home

Carlos: ay cariño 😂😂

- Them at a korean hotpot restaurant

3. Mumma said you look Indian and your handsome so she has no problem with our rishta (relationship)

4. Yaar ek ghanta ho gaya (it has been one hour); when will we reach? ;I’m feeling a little nauseous baby; no no i can't sit behind I get nauseous (typical aunty behaviour); just sleeping - during a road trip (based on the fact that my mom does this😭)

5. She does not talk a lot in hindi when with carlos mainly because he can't understand her but whenever she does, she refers to him by inko or aap. (for my non-desi girlies, in Hindi, “aap” is a formal way of addressing someone, similar to using “you” in English. It is a sign of respect and can also be used to show affection towards someone; mainly bc Carlos is older than her so aap makes more sense. Inko is also like that by its more like him or her yk depending on the context)

some snippets:

Desi!girlfriend: mei inko pooch ke batati hu (I'll ask him and let you know)

Desi!girlfriend: aap bade sweet ho (you're very sweet) *Booping him on nose while Carlos tucks her in after she decided to get drunk outta her mind*

6. A talk show host: 3 terms of endearment you call your boyfriend?

Desi!girlfriend: Baby, jaanu and EY!

(this is based off of what vicky kaushal said when karan johar asked him what nicknames his wife calls him; 0:23)

7. Desi!girlfriend: yaar look there i left it right there

Carlos: How many times I told you to leave it where I put it; now get ready soon or we'll be late.

Desi!girlfriend: *still talking with mom*

Carlos: *frustrated carlos noises*

-side kalesh going on while on phone with her mom (sign of true love? yes)

8. I told you one wrong turn and suddenly I lose my navigator privileges and my phone *she was also forced to sit in the back due to this incident*

9. Desi!girlfriend: smile karo na, everytime we take a picture it looks like im forcing you to smile.

literally carlos:

10. Desi!girlfriend: I would rather die than run another marathon ever again *out of breath after running a 5K*

Desi!girlfriend: I would rather die then give up chocolate

Desi!girlfriend: I would rather di-

Worried!Carlos: ENOUGH WITH THE DYING METAPHOR.

author's note: fun fact my mom did actually say he looks indian then proceeded to ask me if his parents are indians. Anyways babes I hope y'all enjoyed this bc i loved writing this.

[arsonists-oatmeal]

I had finished watching Transformers: Earthspark yesterday. Got a few notes, spoilers below:

-"Malto-bots" awwwww my heart -shit starts ramping up after the halfway mark of the season. which is classic and I did not realize how much I missed that type of pacing -oh, hello body horror in a kids show, didn't expect to see you here! -did not expect to get as invested as I did in the human parts of the plot, like how the rest of humanity is reacting to the Terrans. I think for a kids show they wrote that bit pretty well -speaking of: its clear from the get-go that the whole Terran plot is allegorical to a lot of things. Immigrant families, biracial families, being a first generation citizen, etc. I've seen a lot of media try to use aliens as a plot device for "bigotry is bad", but very rarely have I seen it actually like, show how it hurts people and effects how they see themselves, and show that you have to shut that shit down if you want to be an ally, and not just tolerate your racist uncle, friend, etc. I think this show did a pretty good job of that. It had made parts of me feel seen and heard for the first time ever. -The way they handled the Starscream thing was kind of weak though, imo -Man i wish we got to see Hashtag having more moments with the seekers, she'd fit right in -Nightshade!!! I like Nightshade, I think some parts were a little on the nose (like how they're the only person who introduces themselves with their pronouns), but its not as some people are making it out to be. Idk if its just me but I also feel like they got sidelined more than the rest of the characters, which is suspicious. But anyways, every group needs a mad scientist character who can be slightly unsettling and I'm glad Nightshade is there to fill the role. -Ok i get this is a kid's show, and there was already more nuance than i expected (which was none) about the decepticons, but I do feel like they didn't make the final leap in logic here. -"Ok not all decepticons are bad, but we still wont stop surveilling and locking some of them up because they chose to do bad with their second chance". Has anyone here heard of the word "REHAB"?? -Megatron is cool. Cool theme, no comments there -Really liked the fight scenes as well, especially the shots of the transformers fighting it out in the background where the camera focuses on the humans running away. It really shows the scale of things. Small detail but the fact that we've got several bots using their inbuilt guns' recoil in fights is really cool! Megatron essentially did a rocket jump. One critique however is that nothing really looked like it had weight. -Also I wished that they kept Karan Croft as the lead antagonist till the end. Like idk, show that this whole oppression thing is systematic in nature. Could have had Dr. Meridian change sides given the fact that he was being put in a similar position to the transformers by the humans in charge (he was also fighting for basic resources to live after his first defeat). -Also this one may be unpopular: It looks like at the end the Terrans get their own symbol/badge. Which I think sorta breaks the whole "the war is over, there's no more sides and factions" things that they keep repeating throughout the show. It just feels like they've created a third faction now, and the continuing dynamic is now autobots vs decepticons vs terrans. Which, no. You're going to replace your war with another.

Overall, good show, 8/10, I think it fumbled the ending. I know im not the target audience here but also its not like kids are stupid.

Also representation matters. The choices of having the lead human characters be a non-white biracial family, having the first nonbinary transformer, having the terrans be allegorical, it may not mean anything to some viewers, but for others it could be the first time someone has actually acknowledged them, has said "I see what you've gone through and I know it to be real and I will take it seriously". The diversity in the show only serves to make it better

[thelaurenshippen]

You mentioned that you got excited to write the shopping montage when you "realized a certain character would be sticking around." Was the initial uncertainty around that because you weren't sure how the story was going to unfold, or because of some of the real life complications around availability and casting? Stories definitely have a life of their own, but do you feel like you've got a fairly firm plan in mind with "Bridgewater?"

bridgewater spoilers below the cut!

a little bit of both! there's always some uncertainty around what's actually going to be possible production-wise and, of course, we did end up getting alan tudyk in as thomas bradshaw because nathan fillion couldn't come back. and we all couldn't be happier about that! nathan and alan are close friends and alan is doing such a wonderful job that it all really worked out well - but there was definitely a little bit of discussion around "well, do we want to recast or do we want to write thomas off" and ultimately decided that thomas was in so little of season 1 that recasting wouldn't be super disruptive.

I tend to only very broadly plan past a first season when I'm building a show, and usually I'm only focused on, like....the themes and vibes and character growth I want. so in bridgewater's case, I didn't have a S2 plan when writing S1 beyond "here's what I want for jeremy and anne to experience", which could manifest in a whole LOT of ways (this is extremely vague I know, but obviously I can't talk about it until the whole season is out). there was a moment where I thought about jeremy and anne hearing thomas' voice at the end being a fakeout and it actually turns out to be some kind of hallucination or weird paranormal trick, but aaron and I, like, BARELY entertained that. we really wanted jeremy to have the chance to get to know his dad and I love "man out of time" stories.

anyway, long story long, I didn't necessarily even have the arc of the plot and lore of S2 mapped out when we figured out how we wanted the season to end, if that makes sense. I had really clear goals in mind for the emotional journeys that each of the characters would go on, and toyed around with a few ways of getting there before I landed on the one I ended up writing. part of why I don't plot out the specific story beats beyond a first season is because a) I'm a very character-forward writer, so whatever is going to enable the characters to have the emotional arcs I want is what I follow and b) when actors are involved you just truly never know how that's going to transform things.

for instance, I've talked about this before, but jeremy didn't swear all that much on the page in S1, but misha threw in so many swears when we were recording that the S2 scripts had way more cursing for Jeremy from the start. I loved it, I loved how misha's perspective on the character and sensibility altered the way jeremy speaks - he's funnier in S2, with a drier wit, because misha is very funny with a dry wit. it's the same thing with anne - melissa plays her hard-nosed nature so well, but she also has this absolutely incredible softness to her, that I actually wrote her calling jeremy "sweetie" or "honey" in S2 a few times (which I have a lot of squishy feelings about, I just have a lot of squishy feelings about them in general bc of the chemistry that misha and melissa have). same thing with misha and karan - they had such a playful chemistry that it was really easy and nice to lean into the real genuine love and care that vipin and jeremy have for each other (this is, like, SUCH a minor spoiler for what's coming up next, but I was just listening to this episode today, and in future episodes people refer to vipin explicitly as jeremy's best friend because like....yeah, he totally is. jeremy is a pretty loner-ish guy and even though vipin is his TA there is a genuine closeness there).

so there's that kind of stuff that can shape the emotional journeys the characters go on which of course can shake up your plot completely (if anyone listened to The Bright Sessions and has heard me talk about this specific thing before, this is exactly what happened with mark/damien - that relationship was not supposed to result in one of them falling in love and the other one, like, kind of falling back a little against his better judgment (I mean, christ, damien was like the one character that when I started writing I was like 'yeah this guy is straight' turns out VERY much no) but it turned into that because the first time andrew and charlie sat down to record together as those characters it was INSTANT sparks. some of the wildest organic chemistry I've ever experienced as a director lol).

but then there's also the fact that sometimes your actors are your direct collaborators on building the story! of course aaron is my partner in crime in building the world of bridgewater, but for S2, because misha was on board before I even started writing it, the two of us had several conversations both as I was outlining and then after all the scripts were written about who jeremy was and what we wanted for him. so I tend to keep all my plans fairly loose because I love the spontaneous collaboration that comes out of working with other people.

YEESH that was such a long winded answer, but thank you for asking!

[worldscollidinginone]

Chapter 6 - Is This It?

Book master list

We then reached his house. He, again, then took me into his arms and I felt all mushy. The door of his apartment was open, and there was no trace of Aman's mother. He took me to his bedroom and this time he laid me to his bed very slowly, as if he wanted to savour that moment, and not for once he broke eye contact with me. 

I was getting scared. 

I started panting. Is this really going to happen now? 

He started kissing the back of my neck getting towards the shoulders. I moaned. At that moment I realized that I was in love with him. I just wanted him to be mine. Forever.  

He started playing with my hair and I felt so happy, for once. I looked at him. It seemed like the era of pain was coming to an end, because Aman is now with me. I leaned towards him and started kissing him passionately. I was crying, because, for the first time in my life, I was happy. He reciprocated. While kissing him, we rolled on the bed and I fell on him, and then we both started laughing. 

When we managed to breathe properly and check that no bones were broken or fractured, he said: "I love you, Priya. I love you very much. I don't know what would be life without you. There have been so many moments when I wanted to kiss you so badly that I cannot tell you. I wanted to hug you, I wanted to make you mine. But I stopped myself thinking that you would never love me. You are going to think this is a complete façade. You'll think that I am a brat who plays with people's hearts. Because you heard about the relationship I had with Cecilia." 

I started crying. I saw that Aman was also crying as well. I was so happy and sad that day.  

Happy because Aman told me he was in love with me and sad because he thought that I may be thinking this is a lie. Of course, I knew the relationship he had with Cecilia.  

She was a new girl that came from America. She was a girl that only wanted boys' attention so she can sleep with them. She was trouble. At that point, Aman was going through a rough patch in his life and Cecilia became his support, or so everyone thought. In actuality, she only wanted to be with him, so that others would get jealous of her, and she could manipulate him to do all kinds of things. Eventually, he found out that she was cheating on him, and he broke up with her.  

I replied: "Aman, who told you that I won't believe you? I have always trusted you, from day 1. If you were being a pain, I would have never come close to you. And I would have probably broken your nose." 

We both smiled and remembered the day when I broke Karan's nose. 

I asked him while touching his cheek and cupping his face: "Don't you want to know what will be my reply?" 

"I am too scared to hear it." 

I looked at him shyly and then kissed his right cheek. My lips were caressing his face while moving from his cheek to near his ear. I then told him: "I love you. I love you, Aman. I love you more than anything else in this world." 

He lit up as if he regained his life and then started to kiss me reverently and hugged me really tight. I was responding and was laughing as well. 

"You don't know how happy you've made me, Priya!!!" 

I wanted to know whose drawings he had made, so I started diverting his attention to the drawings. "Waise Aman, tumhare dressing table ke peeche kuch drawings hai. Kya mein dekh sakti hoon?" 

He looked quite shy and said: "Tumhari aakhon se kuch chukta nahin hai, ha?" He kissed me one last time and then he got up from me. He was lying on top of me all time. He then took out all the drawings and I realized they were all drawings of me. Me talking to my friends, me standing on the balcony looking at God knows what. Me trying to do some homework in my room. Me playing with Nikhil. There were so many, that I lost count of them. 

I said: "They are all very beautiful." They all looked like photographs, except they were more artistic. 

He replied: "Well, the muse I used was so beautiful that I had to match up to her beauty." I started blushing and he then came close to me and started kissing me again. I had to make him stop kissing me otherwise he wouldn't leave me. Aman then dropped me off at my dorm building and said: 

"I don't want to let you go. Stay with me, please?" 

"Aman, hum kal milne wale hai, na? And come on, you are a good boy." I then kissed his cheek, but he turned around and I ended up kissing his lips. And he was kissing me so passionately that I might have fainted if I wasn't hugging him. 

"I have to go, Aman." 

He then flew a kiss in the air, and I caught it, and put it in my heart and gave a flying kiss to him and he caught it and he smiled. 

He then dropped me off at my place, kissed my lips, and drove off to his place and I went into my dorm room, smiling like crazy.

Go To Chapter 7

[artzychic27]

What traits does Austin T get from his parents in both looks and personality?

Austin gets most of his looks from his mother, Camille, same hair and eye color, face shape, and eye shape

He just has his dad's height, nose, and skin color. Karan has darker hair, but you can find some dark strands in Austin's hair, too

He's quiet like his dad, while Camille is more outspoken, so Austin and Jean are basically just young versions of them

Austin's more of a momma's boy, but loves his both of his parents all the same

[skywlking]

idk if you'd still be willing to do old ships lol but throw me karanahita and let me live with my memories lol

OF COURSE I WOULD 😭

gives nose/forehead kisses: karan and its always the holds the back of the head leans down a little type of forehead kiss ESPECIALLY when anahita's stressed or deep into work

gets jealous the most: KARAN. well .. both actually but karan is so angry and obvious and pouty about it he will sulk like a little child if she gives more attention to anyone

picks the other up from the bar when they’re too drunk to drive: anahita's had to do this more times than she can count and she's tired of it probably

takes care of on sick days: karan tries but it ends up being him hovering stressed out by the bed while the staff handles it but when karan's sick anahita drops everything to do the cold compress and feed him soup and check his temp :(

drags the other person out into the water on beach day: first of all getting karan in flip flops and out of his louis vuittons is a task in itself but he'll do it for her, and even then he's gonna whine about ruining his hair in the water so she HAS to drag him

gives unprompted massages: karan. constantly. no its not just for sex ( ok like 60% of the time it is )

drives/rides shotgun: he ALWAYS drives if its not the driver, he loves it and he loves it Especially when she's riding shotgun

brings the other lunch at work: karan regularly forgets to eat but if they're working on set on the same movie and his pa gets him food he'll take it straight to her. otherwise in general she probably brings him food more often

has the better parental relationship: he has no parental relationships 😭 so anahita?

tries to start role-playing in bed: karan every fucking time and its always sooooooooo cheesy, like will literally bring up roles they've done in the past in movies like every single time

embarrassingly drunk dancer: karan's a table dancer when he's drunk and anahita can actually dance so yeah ... karan

still cries watching titanic: not the titanic but he'll cry during k3g every time

firmly believes in couples costumes: honestly none of them, they do enough of that in their work lives but if its a fun concept i can see them both being equally into it

breaks the expensive gift rule during christmas: BOTH THEY'RE SO BAD AT NOT GOING OVERBOARD WITH EACH OTHER

makes the other eat breakfast: anahita. karan doesn't know how to turn on the stove 😭

remembers anniversaries: anahita, he only remembers the main one ( 80% of the time, the other 20% is cause arjun reminded him ) and her birthday

brings up having kids: karan is terrified of being a dad because of his relationship with his own father but if anahita brought it up and was something she wanted i think he'd be willing to have the conversation

[kunalkarankapoor]

highlights was the whole scene with Maitree and Saransh as he revealed everything. It said that a criminal is caught when he becomes over confident and makes mistakes. Or maybe.... Saransh doesn't have anything to lose so he doesn't care. What if he actually starts caring for someone and the fear of losing kick in??? It would be interesting. Saransh does have some empathy even though he has been a drug addict for a long time. His behaviour is caused by drugs, trauma and anger. If we go back in the past and as much as I have seen of the show then his father #abandoning him as a kid (by the way where is his father now??) Mother was possessive and controlling (why haven't we got a mother and son moment between them??) We don't know much about his life abroad, but as Ashish was a lawyer you can guess the pressure. He was loved and adored by his family till the mask fell off and they found out the truth of his addiction. So facing his family can't be easy either. Saransh is kind of running from himself and to not have to face himself he blames everything on Maitree. She is the reason he lost everything!! My point. You are negative for a reason and that reason is valid for you. Not an excuse to hurt others, because if you know right from wrong, you have a choice to choose right. I don't want Saransh just to be another villain as Kunal gave the character so many shades in the first episode through his performance. If the makers/writers do justice, Kunal Karan Kapoor can take it beyond what they at first had expected. Simple because the character is complex and Kunal's portrayal of various emotions. The best villains are the once that you somehow sympathise with. And Kunal gave Saransh just that.

As Saransh is a drug addict, manipulation and lies would be part of him. To hurt Maitree he would emotionally manipulate Maitree and enjoy seeing her fear, but he wouldn't bring a snake into the house. He would love the control as he can't control his own drug addiction. Every step Saransh takes is to show Maitree, HE is in control over her life....as that makes him feel powerful. That snake thing is out of character in my opinion and definitely the channels call. As zeetv always brings a snake attack scene. I don't get it. It is obvious that the snake is fake as they don't want to spend money on it looking real. We all know it's not going to bite and if it does the person will survive. So why waste a brilliant artist on a scene like this?? when you can have him emotionally manipulate everyone and emotionally torture someone. This will also give shade to other characters that are standing still and not growing. From showing Saransh playing mind games and manipulating to an upcoming episode with him bringing a snake into the home 🤷 I would also mention again that an impactful villain is when you see things from his point of view and not just a villain. Kunal Karan Kapoor showed that through his performance and the makers/writers/channel need to explore that through their "creativity". I know I know....just the second episode...be patient. Sometimes a filling episode is needed. But I have also learnt that speaking up as a viewer is important and not just wait and trust the channel. Ps. As Saransh is just my kind of character and I love digging into why...on top of that Kunal Karan Kapoor brings out many shades....my caption will be long.

Yesterday's episode was a filler episode but Kunal Karan Kapoor looked 🔥 I loved how Kunal made sure to sniff and rub his nose as he is a drug addict. Honestly I am not really getting what the creators are up to. Harsh mom will make an entry again and another actor roped in 🤷 well that what media is saying. They haven't even fully explored Kunal's character yet, but just rushing it in the name of twists and turns. They said that the entry will have us sitting on our edge. Yes I am sitting on the edge of my seat, but not because of the twist and turn of a snake in the house, but because they are not getting it. How brilliant this character is and how much they can do with it. How can they have such a phenomenal artist and a layered character and not squeeze every bit out. I would seriously have thrown this character through every possible moment just to watch how far a talented artist like Kunal can go. * I would have created situations, when he was from being calm and in control to being restless and unpredictable. * I would have in some small moments made him seem a little crazy. * I would have him battle inner demons, being "evil" but then feeling guilty. * I would have created some moment when he seemed a little creepy but in the next longing for love. * I would have him being out of control, then in fear and scared like a kid.... crawling into a safe place to his mom. Just imagine Kunal Karan Kapoor in scenes like this. Switching in personality 🔥🔥 how awesome it would be. Said that, then #KunalKaranKapoor has through his performance ✔️ some of the things mentioned above. I just wish the writers and creators would focus on exploring every shade of this character with him. I know it's just the third episode and I should be patient. But the fact is also that if TRP doesn't change the show will go off air and I wouldn't get to watch Kunal as Saransh. I WANT MORE.... And I desperately would like the creators to understand, that THIS is the CHARACTER to focus on now. We women love grey characters. Someone we can save. This character will also bring layers to the other characters.

Lost identity!! Saransh is pretending to be Ashish but has a new face. When he looks in the mirror he doesn't see Saransh or Ashish. On top of that the drug has taken over the real Saransh. The struggle within lays in, do you let the inner beast take over and feel the freedom or do you fight your inner demons to keep some sanity. Fact is that Saransh has been addicted to drugs for too long to be "normal" at the same time he still has some humanity in him as he did feel discomfort when Nandini hugged him and some guilt. We also saw him feeling Ashish's mom's pain as he hugged her. The question is if it was care or because he has done something to Ashish?? I love the complexity of this character because he can be full on "evil" with no empathy at all, if that's what the creators want or he can be a lost soul that could be saved and that journey would be so awesome to watch. I love when an artist like Kunal Karan Kapoor brings out so many shades that it kind of gives the writers and creators the option to take the character anywhere they want and that is the reason for my frustration yesterday. Grap it and run with it... If you have an artist that can convince either way, why not fully explore all the options???

I love these shots 🔥 In yesterday's episode you saw Saransh rolling a note and he had that in his hand throughout the episode till the truth came out. I really liked that detail as it seems as it calmed him doing so. We also saw that Saransh was standing in the background as the family was gathered. Detaching himself from the family but observing. One of the reasons I love grey characters is that it is like a puzzle. You try to fit the pieces in their right places and in the end, there will be a piece missing. Because a complex character like Saransh, will never make fully sense. I would also like to mention that one of many things that I love about Kunal Karan Kapoor is that no matter if his character is the victim or believes he is. Kunal makes sure through his portrayal and voice modulation, that the character doesn't seem weak or someone who pity himself. Like in yesterday's episode. It was all about Saransh's feelings of being left alone and no one being there for him. There was pain and there was anger, but not even once self pity in his voice. It is not clear if Kunal Karan Kapoor is a permanent part of the show or if he is doing a cameo, but it is a treat to watch him in a complex and layered character like this. He raised the bar. Be it quality or performance. He is a fresh breath of air that surrounds around and bond everyone together with the way he naturally and sincerely connects with every character. Bringing out the best in them. #proud that here we have a true artist, who challenges himself and always makes a comeback in something different. Character vise and performance vice. Surprise packed he is as his talent has no boundaries.

[0oolookitsme]

Footballrry having a thing for breastmilk and him being whining bcoz he has 2 share it with their baby it's okay if you don't right it girl !!

Title- Save Some for Your Daddy, Baby Boy. Genre- Blurb Pairing- Footballer!Harry x ArtDirector!Y/n Word Count- 517 Warnings- Breastfeeding, smut indications (not much). A/n- Hope you like it, lovely!

“Welcome me, Mrs. Styles,” Harry announced as he entered the room with a bowl of cereal in his one hand and a bowl of sweet oats, topped with Bananas, in the other. His heart melted into a puddle of love as soon as his eyes looked up from the floor. There she sat, looking at the view of Karan’s hand wrapping itself around her own thumb. He pulled himself together before the bowls in his hands could end up on the floor and walked forwards, placing them on his bedside table.

He shifted under the thick blanket and scooted closer to Y/n until his arm was pressed with hers, with no gap in between.  

Y/n felt his gaze shift on her from their baby, making her raise her head up and move it to his side, a wide smile spreading across her face and eyes shutting down when his lips rubbed on the tip of her nose. “When is it gonna be my turn?”, she heard him mumble and a breathy laugh escaped her nose, the baby also giggling as he bounced up and down on her belly.  

“Look at ya, stealing my milk,” Harry said and grinned at their son, tapping his chin when he laughed a little more and right then some of the milk in his mouth spilled out, falling right on Harry’s palm. He let him spill all of it out on his hand, not wanting him to choke on the milk while y/n pulled him away from her breast and patted his back when he did cough a little.  

The little guy was back in motion when he realized the nipple isn’t in his mouth. Making grabby hands towards her tits and latched onto one of them in content when his mummy brought him closer to them. 

Harry made the same grabby hand towards her other boob, pouting when y/n slapped it away. “Ya like it too much for my liking, y’ know?”, he grumbled as he scooted away a little to bring his and y/n’s breakfast near them. 

“Open,” he told her and choked on his saliva a little when y/n squinted her eyes at him while light pink shade creeped up her neck. “You gutter minded woman,” he squinted back at her, a smile creeping upon his lips and in a matter of seconds, a laugh was escaping from the back of his throat. “It’s not my fault! You said that with a different purpose just last night!”, y/n snickered, eating the oats from the spoon he had held in front of her mouth, enjoying the view of his eyes’ changing demeanor.   

Next thing, his eyes fall onto the boy’s face, lips still wrapped around her nipple. “C’mon now. Y’ gonna finish it all! Leave some for your daddy, baby boy,” he said and internally cheered when y/n started rocking him and his eyes went droopy, while he fed from his own bowl of cereals.

He grinned as she smirked, standing empty handed at the doorway after returning from their son’s room. “Time to fill mummy’s tummy now, baby daddy”. 

[pastelsandpining]

Zelink Week Day 3: Flight

loftwings | free falling

Masterlist | Zelink Week List

words: 844

summary: Zelda’s day is interrupted.

warnings: disgustingly cute

Skyward Sword - pre-game

@zelinkweek2021

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

Zelda never intended to be the cliche of in love with your best friend, but then again, no one ever really plans for these sort of things. They just happen, and she’s no different. She’s not above the fluttering of her heart or the tummy full of butterflies, of whispering with Karane in the hallways and writing hundreds of little notes that never make it anywhere further than her trash can.

And they never will, she decides as she strikes a violent line through the note she’d only just finished. She tears it, then tears it again, then crumples it several times over until it’s no longer legible.

A tapping on the classroom window snaps her out of her frustration. She nearly jumps out of her skin trying to turn to see who it is, but she supposes it’s no surprise that she finds the very boy she was just writing about. It’s always either him or Groose, and it’s no mystery which she prefers.

Link is leaning against the glass with his face pressed to it just enough for his nose to be squished upwards. She rolls her eyes, but there's a laugh trying to break past the smile on her lips as she walks over to join him. He has a hand on the glass and wiggles his fingers, so she presses her hand to the other side, just against his, and wiggles hers in response. She tries not to think about the layer of glass that separates them.

He grins at her and Zelda smiles right back, hoping the pink on her cheeks isn’t as noticeable as it feels like it is. Then, he waves his free hand, a gesture for her to come out and join him. She pretends to think for a moment and sticks her tongue out at him. He pouts, dropping his shoulders all sad like, and she does laugh then, nodding her head towards the exit. She doesn’t wait to see his answer and leaves the classroom in embarrassingly quick strides, but when she throws open the academy doors, he’s nowhere to be found. She steps further out into the bright sunlight, wondering if perhaps he’d thrown himself off of Skyloft without her, but then a pair of arms grab her and she wrestles against them with a squeak just to hear his laugh.

“You’re a blockhead,” she accuses when he finally releases her. “I was busy.”

“Only you would be busy on a Saturday,” Link answers with a huff, crossing his arms over his chest like she’d offended him.

“I was writing love notes to Groose,” she challenges and lifts an eyebrow when he snorts. “What’s so funny about that?”

“You would have to write a second for his hair if you really wanted to impress him.”

She wants to scold him to be nice but the argument falls apart in a fit of laughter. He laughs too, scrunching his nose, and she wonders just how much more of this she can take before she succumbs to the sweet embrace of death. Goddess help her, she really likes him.

“What did you interrupt my work for?” she asks, putting her hands on her hips.

“Come fly with me,” he says, holding a hand out to her. “It’s got to be better than sitting in a stuffy classroom all day.”

“Oh, are you finally getting in some practice for the upcoming Wing Ceremony?” she teases in return. “Careful, or I might think you’ve been replaced by an evil twin.”

“I want to go race through the sky with my best friend, oooh, so evil.”

Zelda bites back her laughter and shoves him hard enough to make him stumble. He laughs and grabs at her hands, pulling her towards the deck closest to the academy. She tries playfully to free her hands, but she isn’t really trying at all. She likes how his touch tingles, how it sends her heart beating wildly.

Together, they throw themselves off of the floating island. She finds that free falling like this is quite similar to falling in love. It’s exhilarating, it takes her breath away, and she doesn’t think she’ll ever get over it. She likes falling, feeling the wind whipping through her hair hard enough to undo her hair ties, letting the sensation of gravity pull her down closer and closer to the clouds until she thinks maybe today is the day she’ll try going through it. Then Link is winking at her, dropping her hand so he can whistle for his Loftwing, and she has half a mind to not call for hers at all. She knows he’ll catch her if not, but she doesn’t want to give him the satisfaction.

So when he mounts his Loftwing and blows her a kiss, she whistles for her own and soars after him with the intent to overtake him. Zelda wanted to make him feel as dizzy as he made her, and if racing him through the sky was the best way to do it, then she would take it.

[acids-bases-salts]

Today was Sunday. But Sidekick still found themselves sighing tiredly while gingerly massaging their forehead. They looked sideways and noticed the Hero’s stone-cold glare at the white door of the conference room. It was Sunday and yet the Hero’s ego was acting up. Sidekick gets that the Hero does not have any substantial work and thus his ego has reached heights which even Burj Khalifa couldn’t reach but get a life man! Everyone else has a fucking life.

The sidekick was raging inside but kept a blank face because capitalism, man!

The sufferer flinched violently and knocked his knee hard on the underside of the table when the door of the room was banged open. Jeez, people have no chill here. They almost got a heart attack due to the sudden attack on the door. They can’t catch the train to God’s subway, now; they had a mission to complete.

But before the Sidekick’s mind could rehearse their well-rehearsed motive and spill it to the spectator their balls caught sight of the Villain of the town. Eyeballs.

Now the Sidekick was a lot of things. They were selfish, dumb and had gotten used to the loads of black money pouring into their bank account after saving government officials from facing justice. But their eyes were in the right place and the same dumb brown eyes really liked the current sight.

The bad guys are always hot, they said.

Become an official of the agency, they said.

It will be fun, they said.

But right now, Sidekick really wanted to be on the Villain’s side. Now, along with their eyes, their heart was also in the right place and hence, they knew that this villain is actually the good guy and is just being framed as the bad guy for the convenience of a lot of criminals. The sidekick knows that the Hero is wrong but then again, being in the wrong brings in cash.

“Am I supposed to take you seriously?” The Hero scoffed lightly while bouncing a pen obnoxiously on the table. “Bring me the actual Villain, I’m not interested in talking with his minions.”

The is-it-really-Villain-or-a-Sidekick laughed a little and sat down on the chair on the opposite end of the table. They stared a little at egoistic-bitch and then propped their legs on the table. The undersoles of the shoe had F**K YOU written in red bold letters.

“And what makes you think that the Villain won’t be a she, Mr. hero?”

The sidekick’s stomach flip-flopped and their heart dib-dobbed after hearing the woman’s voice. Such a beautiful voice! If this villain, with her beautiful voice and her beautiful eyes read Shakespeare’s plays to the sidekick, they will just evaporate in the air. Oh, what a beautiful dream that is! Romeo and Juliet, Macbeth, Mercha…

The sidekick was drawn out of their thoughts when a harsh punch slammed their head on the pristine white table. But the pristine white table was no more pristine and white.

Just like so many practice rooms and beds.

The sidekick looked up fearfully to notice Karan, their coworker in front of them cowering away with a horrified look on his face. But his eyes held fear and pain. The fear and pain was so prominent that Sidekick felt it in their bones, in their soul. Because hadn’t their soul felt the same pain over and over again?

Over and over again?

Over and over again?

The cold conference room was spinning now. Spinning really fast. It brought back memories to when Sidekick had ridden the faulty merry-go-round which refused to stop and kept spinning. The Sidekick had cried and called for their mommy. But they had neither now. Tears have stopped forming and their mom was a weakness.

Their face hurt but their ears never stopped ringing. They tried to lift their head but it felt too much of a task with the immense pain in their head. The blood from their forehead burned their eyes and they tasted the blood from their nose. Through the white noise and red pain, their master’s words were clear.

“After this little play with my doll, are you still willing to go again me, Villain?”

[raviotherabbit]

royal pain in the ass - chapter 4

Chapter 4: Era of Twilight Queen Zelda heads out for the night.

[first] - [previous] - [next] read it on ao3!

  △ ▲△

“Are you sure this is alright?” The young Hero of the Four Sword trailed Zelda through the halls of her castle, their shoes clicking on the smooth tile below them. “I mean, I wouldn’t want to bother you…”

“I could never be bothered by a hero,” Zelda clarified. “Besides, I believe you of all people should appreciate our collection.”

The pair stopped at a grand set of doors, towering over them with the crest of the royal family, depicted in gold, right in the middle. Before Four could voice any more concerns, Zelda pushed the doors open, dividing the crest in two.

Forgetting his manners, Four rushed past the queen and into the armory. Zelda couldn’t help but chuckle as he admired the vast array of weaponry, hands hovering with a fear to touch. She was struck by how dorky the heroes she grew up hearing legends of actually were, but perhaps she should have guessed they’d be much like her own…

Zelda’s heart dropped at that thought. Oh, Link…

“This battle-axe…” Four marvelled, mouth agape. “I could only dream of making something so well-crafted…”

Forgetting her troubles for a moment, Zelda caught up to Four. “This one is a bit old, actually. I’ve been considering having it hung up somewhere, for posterity.”

“You can never go wrong with an axe on a wall,” Four added.

“Come,” she beckoned him further into the armory. “Let me show you my personal collection.”

Delighted at the notion, he followed her. Eventually, the two came to a wall more tastefully decorated, with several bows and swords hanging.

“I’ve used all of these, at some point,” her hand traced the wooden edges of a bow. With a fond smile on her face, she pulled her rapier from its display. “But I’ve always been fond of my swords.”

Zelda held the rapier out to Four. He hesitated for a moment, looking up to her as if to ask for permission. When she nodded, he took the sword from her with a child-like glee, inspecting it thoroughly.

“I’ve been training with it since I was young,” Zelda explained. “It’s been my favorite.”

And yet, it hadn’t been enough. When the time came, to either fight or die, Zelda had instead chosen to surrender. Her burden went to Link, almost carelessly so, and now…

Noticing her distress, Four placed the rapier back in its display. “Twilight will be fine,” he insisted. “If he’s not back by tomorrow, I think Time is planning on going after him.”

Twilight. The name always throws her for a loop when she hears it. How could Link be so fine with it?

“I’d like to apologize to him, if I can,” she revealed cautiously. “I owe him that much.”

“I think he’s just a bit stressed out,” Four frowned, looking off. “All of us are. Legend got a bit snappy yesterday, and Twilight had to physically stop Wild from pouncing on him.” He sighed wearily.

“I wish he didn’t feel as though everything were his responsibility,” Zelda admitted. But, truthfully, who was she to talk? After all, she was the one who gave him such ideas.

Maybe she deserved what he said to her.

  △ ▲△

“Stay safe, Zelda,” Gaepora instructs his daughter, doing his best to remain stoic as he holds her close. “The places you’ll travel will be unfamiliar, but I know that you’ll be able to find your way.”

“We’ll be home soon,” Sun promises, arms tight around her father. “Both Link and myself.”

Gaepora pulls away from Sun, glancing back at the portal. It appeared just after breakfast, right in front of the Sealed Temple. “Keep those granddaughters of mine safe.”

Sun laughs at that. “I will, father.”

Meanwhile, Artemis and Flora stand waiting by the portal. The glowing, golden light still has a draw on them, but they resist enough to allow Sun her goodbyes. It tugs at Flora’s heartstrings, digging that pit in her stomach a little bit deeper. Her only thought is, ‘Why?’

Karane, one of the knights of Skyloft, marches up to the two queens, dragging Pipit by his collar behind her. She releases him just as she reaches them, and Pipit struggles to right himself.

“Pipit,” Karane asks him. “Do you have anything you’d like to say to these two?”

“Er, yes,” Pipit clears his throat. “Your majesties-” he bows awkwardly. “I’m sorry I pointed my sword at you and called you demons.”

“Uh, well.” Flora shifts from one foot to the other, glancing up at Artemis.

Artemis places a hand on Flora’s shoulder, smiling sweetly down at the two knights. “Thank you for your apology, sir Pipit. It’s greatly appreciated.”

Pipit looks back at Karane, who nods in approval. The two bow for them before making their leave.

“That was very diplomatic,” Flora notes, watching as the knights bicker amongst themselves.

“He made a mistake, and he apologized for it,” Artemis explains coolly. “I don’t see a reason to keep being upset.”

The two are interrupted by Sun, who approaches as she waves back to her father. With one hand gripping her satchel’s straps, she asks, “Well, are you guys ready?”

“It’s been lovely staying here, but we need to get moving,” Artemis asserts.

“Then let’s go.” Flora offers a small wave before she steps backwards into the portal. With a bright flash of light, she disappears.

Artemis smirks. “Oh she’s getting sure of herself, isn’t she? Come one-” she waves Sun along to follow her. “We have to catch up before she gets herself lost.”

Side-by-side, Artemis and Sun walk through the portal. Travelling through time is always disorientating, even though both of them have done it before. Sun’s not very surprised to find that these portals aren’t much different than the Gates of Time, but still, she squeezes her eyes shut as they travel. The world warps around her, a chaotic mess until it stops very suddenly.

Sun peeks her eyes open, just as the portal sputters to a close. She finds herself in the middle of a field, Artemis recuperating for a moment with her hands on her knees. On the other hand, however, Sun feels alright, if a little tired. Flora stands a few feet away, using a hand to block the sun from her eyes as she looks off into the distance.

“That must be the castle, just ahead there,” Flora gestures out, and Sun can just see the silhouettes of a city against the daylight as she makes it to her side. “We can get there in no time.”

“Wow, a real, actual city!” Sun utters in awe. “I mean, Sky’s told me about the ones he’s been to, but seeing it now…”

Flora gasps. “I didn’t even realize-!” She eagerly takes Sun’s hand and guides her towards the city hurriedly. “You have so much to see! Come on, let’s-”

“Hold on.”

The pair barely make it a few steps before Artemis stops them, still hunched over nausea. Flora grits her teeth, breathing in sharply. “Artemis, are you okay?”

“Just…” Artemis plants herself on the ground, but it isn’t long before she lays back, staring up at the bright blue sky. “Just give me a second.”

  △ ▲△

“Castle Town is… a lot,” Sun comments, subtly shifting to hold onto the cloth of Flora’s cloak. “I’ve never seen so many people before in my life.”

The trio are making their way through the streets, weaving their way through the city’s crowds and passing exuberant vendors. A Goron shouts into the masses, advertising fresh spring water, and Sun covers one of her ears.

“Don’t worry, the castle’s right up there,” Flora points up above the buildings, where the spires of walls are visible. “I’m sure when we explain the situation to the Zelda of this time, she’ll give us a nice, quiet place to spend the night.”

“Hm,” Sun hums in response, noticing Artemis frown slightly at Flora’s words.

“Now that you’ve said it…” Artemis mutters to herself, but she doesn’t finish the thought.

The crowd seems to thin as they approach the castle, which makes sense since the gate is guarded by two heavily armored individuals, both wielding some rather sharp spears. Flora, however, is unfazed, and marches right up to the guards. While Sun tries to follow her, Artemis places a hand on her shoulder, holding her back a few feet. Her hand slips from Flora’s cloak.

“Wait,” Artemis commands.

“Hello,” Flora greets the guards, ignoring their scrutinizing glares. Her hands are folded gently in front of her, the picture of politeness. “We would like to see the queen.”

The soldiers both look towards each other, before both burst out laughing.

“You want to see the queen?” the one on the right, gangly and tall, jabs at her.

“Who are you to demand an audience with her majesty?” the one on the left, shorter than his partner, continues.

Flora scoffs indignantly. “Well I never-!”

“Hold on.” Artemis raises a hand, silencing both guards. “Flora, remain dignified,” she reminds her descendant. “We have information about Link that her royal highness must hear immediately.”

“Uh…” the tall guard idly scratches his face. “What’s link?”

Artemis blinks, taken aback. “Th-the hero.” She composes herself. “Link.”

The guards exchange another glance with each other. “The hero’s name is Link?” the tall one asks, only to receive a shrug from the short one.

“Oh for Hylia’s sake,” Flora sighs, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Yeah, listen ladies,” the short guard steps forward, flipping his spear so the blunt, wooden end is pointing out. “You’re not seeing the queen today, so scram.” He pokes Flora with the spear.

“Well I never-!” With rage in her eyes, Artemis grabs onto Flora’s arm, dragging both her and Sun away from the castle gates.

“Artemis, wait!” Sun protests. “I think this is still salvageable!”

Ignoring her, Artemis shouts back over her shoulder at the two guards. “Listen to this! You two are going to be in big trouble soon!”

  △ ▲△

Flora, with a book in hand, disappeared into the depths of Castle Town. After her display on the battlefield, Artemis doubted she’d be in too much danger in the city. Besides, exploring their surroundings seemed to be a good alternative to meeting this time’s Zelda, and that was way easier when they split up.

Of course, Sun came with her. Artemis didn’t necessarily trust Sun to be on her own in this kind of setting, not yet at least. Judging by the fact that she was currently latched onto her arm like a sloth, she may have made the right choice.

“I have an idea of when we are,” Artemis explains to her.

Sun’s head snaps to Artemis as though she’d been broken out of a trance. “Oh, you do?”

Artemis nods. “I think there’s a business around here where we may find some help.”

“Time war stuff?”

“Time war stuff.”

Sun perks up and begins scanning the buildings up and down the street. “I can help. What does it look like?”

“Well,” Artemis paused. She’d never actually seen the place, had she? She just heard about it late at night when her troops made camp, and she was always about five seconds from punting Little Link into the forest by that time. Which is to say, her attention hadn’t always been there.

“It has to do with bugs,” she finally settles on.

Sun tilts her head. “Bugs?”

“Bugs,” Artemis affirms. “Agitha, the owner, and she loves them. I think it’s a zoo of some kind?”

“A bug zoo in Castle Town,” Sun remarks. “I think I understand cities even less now.”

Artemis shrugs. “I don’t understand it either, to be honest.”

Sun hums to herself, before suddenly pointing to a building across the road. “Agitha’s Castle?” she reads the sign aloud, “Is that it?”

“Right, that’s what it was called!”

When Artemis pushes open Agitha’s wooden door, they’re both immediately hit by a wave of warm air. The chirping and buzzing of several insects greet them, a butterfly going so far as to flutter over and land on Sun’s head.

“Artemis there’s a tree in here,” Sun states, eyeing the bugs climbing all over it with concern.

“Agitha!” Artemis cups her mouth with a hand as she shouts. “Are you here?”

“Is that who I think it is?” a voice rings out from the second floor. A young girl appears, leaning over the railing to peer down at her guests. “The other Princess Zelda!” She races to the stairs with heavy footfalls.

“Well, it’s Queen Zelda now,” Artemis informs Agitha as she bounds down the stairs. Her smile is warm and pleasant, like a fire on a chilly day.

Agitha takes the queen’s hands, holding them in her own, buzzing with energy as an excited smile graces her face. “Then you’re the other Queen Zelda! I can’t believe you’re here! I thought the War Across the Ages was finished?”

“It did,” Artemis nods. “My friend Sun and I are here on separate business.”

Hearing this, Agitha’s eyes snap to Sun, as if noticing her for the first time. “Oh, hello there! I’m Agitha.”

“Uh, hi,” Sun awkwardly responds. “I’m Sun, I suppose.”

Though Agitha squints at her words with suspicion, she’s quickly drawn away by Artemis. “We need to see this era’s Zelda, but the guards haven’t let us into the castle,” she explains. “Do you know of a way we can arrange a meeting?”

“Those guards are tricky.” Agitha slowly draws her hands away, bringing a finger to her chin as she thinks. “There may be something,” she reveals. “Why don’t you come have some tea? I’ll tell you everything I know.”

  △ ▲△

While their visit to Agitha’s Castle was by no means short, the subsequent search for Flora ended up being way longer than anticipated. Eventually, they find her laying against one of the buildings bordering the castle wall,

“Breaking and entering is not an option, Flora,” Artemis reprimands, picking up her exhausted descendant off the city streets and slinging her over her shoulder.

“I… ran the whole… perimeter,” Flora pants out, book still clutched tightly in her hands. “We can climb it.”

Sun, standing behind Artemis, pats Flora’s head in consolation.

“We’re heading to dinner,” Artemis says. “Agitha recommended a nice little bar we could eat at.”

  △ ▲△

The bar, thankfully, isn’t too far from where Flora collapsed. Sun breathes a sigh of relief when she sees it’s mostly deserted, save for a couple of patrons sitting at a table past the bar. One is a redhead, a drink by his side as he converses with the girl next to him. She’s black-haired, and curiously enough, her ears are rounded. Both perk up when they see the trio enter.

“Telma!” the black-haired lady calls out towards the back. “You’ve got some customers!”

“Er, is she alright?” the redheaded man points with his pen towards Flora, who’s still being carried by Artemis.

“She’s fine, just tired,” Artemis clarifies. She unceremoniously deposits Flora at the nearest table. “My sisters and I were wondering if we could get a meal here?”

“Well you certainly came to the right place, I’ll tell you that!” He offers her a thumbs up, only to be jabbed in the side by his companion.

Just then, a woman pushes through the back door, leaving it swinging behind her. “Well hello there, girls. Can I get you something?”

Artemis places a hand on Sun’s shoulder. “Wait here with Flora, I’ll order for us.”

Sun nods, sliding into the seat next to Flora, who’s currently laying face down on the table. Quietly, she slips Flora’s notebook away from her.

“So what is this?” Sun asks, thumbing through a few of the pages. There’s a lot of writing, but she also notices some drawings of diagrams. “Is it your diary?”

“Of sorts,” Flora murmurs. “It’s a research journal.”

“Oh!” she realizes. “I remember you seemed very interested in some of the monuments of my time. I could tell you more about them, if you’d like.”

“Sun,” Flora pops her head up, resting her chin on the wooden table. “I would love that more than anything. But I currently don’t have the stamina to write a single sentence.”

With a frown, Sun pats her shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll have lots of time later.”

Her sympathy brings a small smile to Flora’s face. “How was your time with Artemis, today?”

“We met one of her Time War friends,” Sun explains. “She mentioned her before, Agitha? She told us about this place.”

“And I bet you like it much more than the rest of the city.”

Sun’s neck grows hot, as she awkwardly tries to refute that. “Well- I-”

Flora reaches to place her hand over Sun’s. For a brief moment, her heart races at the thought that the glow might return. When nothing happens after a few seconds, she relaxes again. Never has she been so happy about a lack of anything before.

“Don’t worry,” Flora says, oblivious to Sun’s panic. “I know it can be a bit of a jump, from so little to so much. It was the opposite for me, but I felt similarly when I returned to my Hyrule.”

“Where did you go?” Sun asks, as if it were the most innocent question in the world.

“It was-” Flora tries to explain, but she just sighs. “I sealed a great evil away for a long time. When Wild eventually came to my side, so much time had already passed.” She looks away. “I didn’t recognize anything, anymore.”

“You didn’t- you didn’t have to say that,” Sun says. “I mean, I also sealed away an evil, the Demon King, but at least I went to the past to do it-” She takes a deep breath, composing herself. “What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry. It must have hurt.”

“Well-”

The pair are interrupted by Artemis, returning to the table with the barkeep, Telma. She places her own bowl of soup in front of her while Telma serves Sun and Flora.

“Hope you girls enjoy,” she smiles, glancing over at Flora. “I made this special, I hear it’s supposed to help after a long day.”

“Thank you,” Flora responds automatically. She sits up slightly, eagerly yet carefully bringing a spoonful of soup to her mouth. There’s a buzz of excitement in her chest as she recognizes the blend of flavors; it can only be cream of vegetable soup. In fact, it’s almost like-

Wait.

Flora’s eyes go wide, and she almost drops her spoon. “Carrots and honey.”

“What?” Sun tilts her head at her.

“This is a carrot and honey cream of vegetable soup, I-” She remembers the night she first tried it. After one hundred years of fighting, she was so tired, and that night, Wild brought her to a stable. He showed her how to make it, explaining where he got every ingredient. And the way it warmed her stomach after so long, especially when he followed it up with a fruitcake dessert…

“This is Wild’s recipe,” she reveals, looking up at Telma. “Did he- how did you get it?”

Before Telma can respond, the door to the bar opens, and in steps a figure in a long, black cloak.

  △ ▲△

Honestly, all Queen Zelda Elaine Hyrule wanted was to relax at Telma’s after a long day of courting nobles and other queenly business. She knew at least a few members of the Resistance would be there, and what better way to get her mind off things than to listen to Shad ramble on about the sky beings for hours?

What she didn’t expect, however, was a young girl looking like she was going to cry about her soup while grilling Telma about the recipe.

“Uh,” Artemis looks between Telma and the girl, befuddled.

Telma grimaces when she notices her. “Honey, why don’t you go sit with Shad and Ashei in the back? I’ll have this handled in a second.” The pair of them are standing just a few feet away, Ashei with a hand ready to draw her sword.

“How did you get Wild’s recipe?” the girl demands, standing as one of her companions tries to reach for her.

“I didn’t take it,” Telma counters. “He gave it to me-”

“Wild?” Zelda asks. “As in, Link’s friend, Wild?”

A silence passes over the girl, she and her friends staring at Zelda. One of the other patrons at the girl’s table, seemingly the oldest, speaks up. “You know Link.”

“He’s-” Zelda almost calls him her friend, but truthfully, she doesn’t know if he would call her such at the moment. “Yes. I know him. And how do you know Wild?” She raises a skeptical eyebrow.

“He’s my best friend,” the first girl says, crossing her arms.

“We’re friends of Link’s friends,” the older one says. “The ones he’s travelling with now.”

Very suddenly, it clicks in Zelda’s mind. These aren’t just any visitors, now are they?

“Ah, I see,” Zelda replies. “You all are quite far from home, are you not? Tell me, what is it that brings you to the Era of Twilight?” She slides up to their table, resting her hands on its wooden surface.

“Link and his friends may be in danger,” the last one, a girl with a feather on her belt, reveals. “We need to see this time period’s Zelda.”

“Well then, you’ve found her.” Zelda pulls down the hood of her cloak. She takes one of the empty seats at the table. With her hands folded in front of her, she narrows her gaze at her counterparts. “Telma, give us a moment. What’s wrong with Link?”

“Dusk, I presume?” the older one asks, receiving a nod in response. “I’m called Artemis, these are Sun and Flora.” She gestures to the other two. “We encountered a monster that could change shape, primarily taking the form of our heroes. He taunted us with their safety, and since we haven’t seen them in quite some time, we can only assume he’s done something to them.”

“That’s… concerning,” Dusk admits. “So why have you come to me, then?”

“We want your help,” Sun continues. “We’ve been going through the portals, and they’ve brought us… Zeldas? They’ve brought us all together.”

Flora plops back down in her chair. “The shadow creature is strong. We’ll need as many hands as we can get to defeat it.”

Dusk’s first instinct is to refuse them outright. Though she’s not sure about the rest of them, she has a kingdom to run! She can’t just leave on a journey across time on a whim, not when her people need her. She isn’t Link.

Oh.

But this is for Link, isn’t it? Link, who she let do everything while she was trapped in the twilight of Hyrule Castle. Link, who saved a land that wasn’t his without question. Link, who deserved more than she had given them.

“Ashei, Shad!” she calls out, beckoning the two Resistance members to her side. “Tomorrow, I’m going to make an announcement. As trusted advisors and saviors of Hyrule in your own right, I will leave you both, as well as Auru, in charge of all royal duties until further notice.” She turns her attention back to the other Zeldas. “I’m coming with you.”

“Thank you,” Sun smiles at her sweetly. “All of our Links mean a lot to us, I’m sure you understand.”

“Sorry you had to see me, er,” Flora gestures to her soup, which she stirs with her spoon. “It’s just… I haven’t had this soup in a while, you know?” She suddenly turns towards the bar, where Telma is cleaning some dishes. “And sorry for yelling at you, miss!”

“Don’t you worry, honey!” Telma calls back. “Tell Wild thanks for the recipe when you see him, alright? I think he could use the pick-me-up.”

“Pick-me-up?” Flora echoes quietly.

“Now.” Artemis slams her hands on the table lightly. “Dusk, I should tell you. We had the worst experience with a pair of guards outside the castle, earlier today.”

“Oh, did you?” Dusk leans in, resting her elbows on the table. “Well, we’ll have to handle that.”

[skyward-children]

I kinda have this headcanon/theory that I'm afraid to share about Karane: She's early ancestor of the Gerudo since she has certain traits she shares with them (her nose, red hair, even her body-type reminded me of the Gerudo in BotW). What do you think?

That’s…wow that’s actually really interesting! I always see people go on and on about how Groose is the ancestor of the Gerudo, but he’s the only one I’ve ever seen! People are always like “well Groose has the hair and the eyes for it” but like. So does Karane! Wow I honestly have never thought about that! it’s very interesting and deserves some thought! 🧐🤔

also don’t be afraid to share your theories or headcanons! I love hearing stuff like this and there’s no judgment here!!

[artificialqueens]

Or The Thought Of You? (A’Whora/Joe Black) - Juno

Summary: Aurora has a chance encounter with the singer in the bar which leaves her wanting more.

I hope you like this slightly late submission for the rarepair songfic challenge! The song in question is Nightwish’s Slow Love Slow.

For once Aurora was early.

It gave her time to take in the optics of the bar she sat at, warm amber light that illuminated the deep mahogany finishing, sophistication clinging to it and to the air. There were so many bottles of spirits in the back behind the bar, spirits with names she could barely think of how to pronounce. On the stage, a live band played soft jazz music - a piano, a double bass, a cello - with gentle precision that was just distinguishable over the delicate chatter of everyone around her.

The clientele, evidently from another era, Aurora was surrounded by a sea of form-fitting Donna Karan dresses and Rolex watches. Aurora thought she looked like she blended in, at least in appearance, in the long black dress with the slit up the leg and the patent black stilettos she’d ‘borrowed’ from her housemate, gold trim accentuated by her earrings, her hair still in its perfect shape.

But she stood out a mile because she was early , or maybe the other two were just late . Leaving her on her own, alight like a lighthouse or so she felt.

When Tia had suggested this place one lunch break, it had been a half-hearted joke, too posh for them and full of rich folks, but then Lawrence had piped up that she’d always wondered what it was like inside, so now all three of them were come down for the night, along with Tia’s flatmate Tayce. It sounded like a laugh. Live cabaret, posh drinks, and unpronounceable cocktails on the enormous menu with tiny writing that Aurora had in her hands right now.

The barman came to Aurora eventually, and she ordered herself a cosmo, the only one she recognised (even though she’d never tried one), enjoying watching the other bar staff shaking cocktail mixers as she waited, and when it was served to her on its own little napkin, Aurora felt like she’d fallen into a Bond film. Maybe she had.

For a split second she saw herself as a Bond girl, but the illusion was quickly shattered as she reached for the drink; it went flying, knocked across the bar by a hand, waved emphatically from a woman who had appeared on her right.

By some miracle Aurora seemed to have missed getting soaked, but her wrist was seized by a hand in a powder-blue opera glove and squeezed in condolence. Aurora was met by a pair of grey eyes, framed by pencil-thin eyebrows, and a peplum gown that matched her gloves in colour.

“I’m dreadfully sorry for that,” the woman said earnestly. “Let me get you another.”

Aurora was taken aback by how much this woman’s low but melodic voice made her scalp tingle. It made her want her to keep talking. But - is it … - Aurora inhaled when she realised. The blue gown with the white tuxedo embellishment, the quaffed red hair in victory rolls? She knew this person. She’d seen her before. She was plastered on the posters on the windows of this place, her name in that gilded-age font …

“Joe Black?”

Joe turned back to Aurora at her whisper of realisation, an impish smile spreading across her face at Aurora’s awed voice.

“In the flesh, darling!”

Joe threw back her head and cackled, a garish contrast to the silkiness of her voice. Aurora expected the clientele around her to stare, but no one batted an eyelid at her outburst.

“You - you’re -“

“Short?” Joe giggled, leaning closer to Aurora and dropping her voice lower. “I get that one all the time. That’s all people say to me when they see me. ‘ Oh, Joe, I thought you’d be much taller!’ ”

“No - I mean, you’re -“

But Aurora’s words vanished as the barman scurried over with Aurora’s new drink, and what looked like the same thing in the same Martini glass for Joe. Joe curled her fingers around the stem of the glass with delicate precision, swiveling on her stool to face Aurora dead on.

“Here’s to …” Joe shook her head and waved a hand dismissively, “… I don’t know, Glenn Close. First person that came to mind.” And she smirked, before raising her glass to cheers with Aurora and then to her lips, her eyes holding Aurora’s as she did the same.

Aurora almost choked on her sip as Joe continued to drink, until she had almost drained the glass, licking her lips and sighing contentedly.

“What the -“

“It’s my usual, darling. Don’t worry! It’s only water!” Joe threw back her head and laughed again. “You wouldn’t think I’d want any liquid courage before taking my place on stage, would you? Ah, no - the old Joe Black, now - she was a bit of a boozy cow, but nowadays, it doesn’t do one’s reputation any good to be plastered before your first song!”

The odd lyrical quality to her voice made Aurora convinced she was putting on a character, but she couldn’t deny that she found Joe’s eccentricity utterly fascinating, found herself being drawn towards her aura.

“Why don’t you order just a normal glass then?” Aurora asked, not even trying to hold back her amused smile.

“Well, because - I’m sorry, darling, I didn’t catch your name.”

Joe had shuffled her stool closer to her now, resting a gloved hand on top of Aurora’s where it lay at the base of the Martini glass.

“Aurora.”

“Ah. As in Borealis.” Joe let out an exaggerated sigh, her eyes misting as if with memories. “A thing of glory. Illuminating the Arctic skies. Did you know that they can come as far south as here? Well, not Brighton,” she added with a wry smile, “but here in a broad sense.”

“I - no?”

“Well anyway, Aurora - I would order water in a plain tall glass, but I do like the martini glasses, gives it an air of splendour. Matches my style. After all, why would I want to shatter any illusions? No one here seems to want to have their illusions shattered, don’t you think?”

Joe gestured to the people around them, none of whom were looking at them, all in their own worlds with those around them, the chatter and the music threading between them all.

“It’s all an illusion, isn’t it? This space here, all these people, they’re all on their own stages. All their own performers. Even you!” Joe winked. “Life is a stage, we’re the actors.”

Aurora blinked in wonder, rendered speechless. But something about Joe still fascinated her. Aurora took another drag of the cosmo, her tongue loosening more and more.

“What’s your excuse then? Is this all an act too? Is Joe Black just an act?”

Joe just chuckled, the sound deep in her throat sounding a little sinister, and Aurora watched as finger by finger, Joe slid the opera glove off her left arm, revealing more tattoos than Aurora would have ever thought, all the way down her arm and onto her fingers.

“Maybe the patrons of the establishment wouldn’t care if they saw their cabaret act in tattoos, but the illusion that I’m a proper lady singing jazz atop a grand piano apparently needs to be an illusion in itself. Although the management didn’t say I couldn’t use my David Bowie dress, especially if it’s Bowie I’m singing.”

Joe was nudging the tips of Aurora’s fingers with the tips of her own, smiling through her eyelashes, her eyes full of mischief.

Aurora found herself slightly tongue-tied, but her voice came back to her eventually. “Did they hurt? The ones on your hand? I wanted to get one there, but my friend says they hurt a lot more than what they’re worth and they never stay too long.”

Stupid question, Aurora.

“They feel like having your hands dipped in warm honey, darling.”

Aurora frowned. “Really?”

“No, not really.” Joe cackled. “They all bloody hurt! But beauty is always pain.”

“Not always,” Aurora protested. “I’m not in pain.”

“Indeed,” Joe said softly, and Aurora felt her thumb slide into the palm of her hand. “Look me in the eyes and tell me those shoes aren’t killing you.”

Aurora met her eyes, triumphant. “My feet are fine. Thank you very much.”

“Really?” Aurora could feel Joe’s thumb on a tender spot in the centre of her palm, one that made the rest of her hand tingle. “I’m not convinced. Body language. These sorts of things give people away, you see, in a way that speaking will not. And really, the body language of everyone here?”

Joe’s eyes glittered, wicked and smug. Aurora was still acutely aware of the sensation of Joe’s thumb on her palm, responding by curling her fingers around Joe’s, and as she leaned closer, Aurora found herself frozen as Joe’s lips found her ear, her voice a slow whisper, sending another tingle down from her scalp down her spine, causing her to shudder.

“Everyone’s faking it, darling!”

And with that cackle, right at the back of her throat, Joe let Aurora’s hand go, drained the rest of the water from the Martini glass, and sauntered away from the bar, swinging her hips exaggeratedly, her laughter floating away behind her, but Aurora noticed that no one else turned to look at her.

It was almost as if she wasn’t even there. Aurora was left staring after her, shuddering again, her skin suddenly warm and tingly …

“A’Whora! Wakey wakey, eggs and bloody bakey!” Tayce was snapping her fingers under Aurora’s nose before Aurora noticed that she’d appeared, brows furrowed; and Tia behind her had tilted her head to one side.

“What’s bitten you, Aurora? You looked as if you’ve seen a ghost!”

Aurora blinked, her eyes darting between them both. “You - you saw her, right?”

“Who?” Tayce turned once to the direction Aurora looked, before whipping her head back to face her. “You feeling alright? How many did you have while you were waiting for us?”

“Shut up!” Aurora giggled, giving Tayce a gentle shove, which was reciprocated with a gleeful chuckle. “Where’s Lawrence?”

“Just went to the loo.” Tia pointed. “She’d better hurry up, she’s gonna miss the beginning!”

The lights were dimming. All eyes and all attention was turning to the stage, a hush developing around the bar and the room, as the sound of heels on the wooden stage drew nearer.

The crowd clapped politely as Joe Black came on, beaming down at them all, her smile wide and glorious. She paused to toss one of the victory rolls from her shoulder, before wrapping her fingers around the microphone stand and putting her lips millimetres from it.

“Good evening. I hope you are all having a wonderful time tonight. I am Joe Black, and this is my … microcosm of wonder.”

And even just the greeting, the low deep voice, was enough for tingles to spread down from the base of Aurora’s scalp once again.

“Is that the ghost you saw, Rory?” Tayce teased. “Because she doesn’t look like one from here!”

But before Aurora could say a word, the pianist hit the first note of Life On Mars, and the whole room was mesmerised by her. Not a soul spoke, not a whisper, just Joe commanding the stage, quiet but enrapturing at once.

Maybe not a ghost, but there was definitely something … otherworldly about her.

Aurora craved more.

[no6secretsanta]

Stay

Stay

From @pigeonsimba to @crowmunculus

The winter chill bites into Nezumi’s skin, tugging his hood back with icy fingers and nipping at his nose and ears until his whole head aches.

Well, aches more, as Nezumi already has a tension headache from clenching his teeth all throughout play practice. Why is it so hard for them to get it?

He knows No. 6 has never been a hub for the arts—that, in fact, until eight years ago, the arts and any other form of self-expression was illegal—but since the wall was torn down and the citizens of No. 6 and West Block were encouraged to mingle, Nezumi would have thought at least some talent might have managed to slip through.

But no. The whole group is a pile of steaming shit.

Nezumi has been working with the troupe for a little over half a year, and they are still as miserable as when he first stepped through the door and ripped their run-through of Into the Woods to shreds. He barely managed to whip them into shape before showtime, and he only deigned to intercede because he could not bear to see a musical butchered so thoroughly in front of a live audience. The end result was passable, but apparently so improved from the group’s prior performances that the actors begged Nezumi to stay on as their director.

Nezumi had been steadfastly against it, but Shion insinuated it might be good for him, and Karan started making obvious comments about how great Nezumi was at theater, and finally Inukashi cracked and told him to fucking agree to the job already so he could stop mooching off of Karan’s goodwill.

Nezumi viciously regrets letting himself be bullied into taking the position. The worst of the volunteers act with all the charisma of wooden dolls; the best are sycophantic hams who howl their lines into the audience and throw themselves upon the stage props like “drama” means “dramatics.” Nezumi wants to cull the whole theater, but he’s already invested so much time into it that he’s loath to start over with a fresh crop of amateurs.

It seems No. 6 will always be a seat of disappointment and frustration for him, no matter how nicely the city functioned now under the Restructural Committee. It’s nights like this when Nezumi wishes he was still on the road.

 When he was traveling the world with nothing but the clothes on his back and his knife at his hip, he only had nature and his thoughts to contend with. The land never disappointed him the way people did; though it tested him almost as much.

He had staggered, starving, over endless yellowing plains; been bitten and stung by animals and insects he hadn’t known the names of; his skin had blistered from trekking over golden hills of sand under the relentless sun; he had hallucinated from hypothermia and nearly died in the mountains outside No. 4.

But Nezumi had always been a survivor, and for every time he skirted death, he gained a little more appreciation for the world around him. It had power he could never wield, power the human race would never possess nor fully understand. Elyurias had shown him his first taste of the wonder of the unknown, however bitter that lesson had been.

 Alone in the wilderness, there is no one to blame but yourself if things go wrong. The elements are punishing, but they are impartial. The sun doesn’t burn him to show its might; the rivers’ currents don’t snatch at his ankles to bring him to his knees; the trees don’t shed their leaves to rob him of shelter and food. The elements don’t care whether he lived or died. Nezumi means nothing to them and they have nothing to prove.

Nezumi had traveled the world for seven years, and even though he knew there was more to see, there had come a morning when he woke and the stillness in his chest said that it was enough; it was time to make good on his promise and attempt to put down roots.

So far, Nezumi has done well to keep the wanderlust to a low murmur in his chest, but sometimes, the roots still feel like choking tethers. He misses the days when he only had himself to rely on, the freedom of knowing that if someone’s company no longer suited him, or a job grew stagnant, he could simply pick up and move on.

Nezumi’s pocket vibrates and the reverie slips away in an exasperated cloud of breath when he checks his phone’s lit-up screen. It’s Midori, the most veteran actor in the troupe and resident thorn in Nezumi’s side. The woman is a prima donna in every sense of the word, but that’s not why she’s on Nezumi’s shit list: prima donnas he could deal with, but Midori is a frustrating mix of loudly entitled and deeply self-conscious. She demands starring roles, only to repeatedly ask for praise and reassurance of her abilities.

He presses the silence button and stuffs the phone back in his pocket. He’s already late and he’s almost to Shion’s house, and he doesn’t want to exacerbate his headache or Midori’s fragile self-worth by spitting venom into a receiver.

Yet another thing to miss about wandering through the wilderness: no phones. Every mile walked in blessed silence.

Nezumi mounts the stairs to Shion’s apartment and fumbles to pull the spare key Shion gave him out of his pocket and shove it into the lock. The brass door knob is so cold the metal burns in his hand as he turns it and slips inside.

Only the lamp beside the couch is on, but the apartment is small enough that the soft light is enough to illuminate the whole space. The front door opens onto a neat little kitchen, and beyond that is the living room, outfitted with a small dining table, an armchair, and a couch and coffee table. Two long bookcases span the length of the back wall, their shelves and tops stacked with novels half pilfered from the underground room and half collected by Shion over the years. The heaps atop the bookcases are high enough that they block the windows behind, so in the afternoons, the sunlight has to steal through the crevices of the towers like a thief, painting irregular patterns on the laminate floors and over the thick-fibered rug that lays beneath the coffee table. The bedroom and bathroom lay off to the right, completing the tour of Shion’s humble abode.

It’s odd to enter the house and realize that it’s Shion’s home. It’s a far step up from the underground room, and certainly much nicer than any of the places Nezumi has lived in since.

Nezumi makes a cursory glance around the quiet living space, but he doesn’t see Shion. He frowns and checks his phone for missed texts or calls, but there’s only the ones from Midori.

Maybe he stepped out? Nezumi is more than a half an hour late, after all, but it would be very out of character for Shion to walk out when he is expecting guests.

The bedroom door is shut and silent, and Nezumi wonders whether Shion is changing. Or possibly he’s asleep, Nezumi considers drily. It wouldn’t be the first time Shion invited him over, only to pass out in the middle of the visit.

Well, if Shion did forget he invited Nezumi over, or accidently fell asleep in his room, Nezumi isn’t going to just turn around and return to his room at Karan’s bakery. It’s too freaking cold out and his stomach is growling like a wild animal, so Nezumi removes his shoes and pads into the kitchen in search of something small and quiet to eat.

A snatch of deep blue fabric catches his eye as he moves toward the cabinet to grab a bowl: a tie thrown over the back of the dining room table chair. Shion’s leather briefcase lays splayed over the table, its papers peeking out of the lip where the buckle isn’t fastened properly.

The corner of Nezumi’s mouth quirks up. He had always thought of Shion as a neat person—after all, Shion threw a fit about the state of the underground room and systematically organized the whole space, and only a neat freak would do something so pointless when they knew full well Nezumi was just going to come back and muck it up again. But after returning to No. 6 and reacquainting himself with Shion, Nezumi discovered that Shion isn’t quite as uptight as he thought.

Shion is by no means untidy, but he has habitual ways of making messes: clothes strewn over his bed, cartons left on countertops, reading glasses and mugs and paperwork abandoned on the coffee table for days before Shion remembers to put them away.

Maybe Shion had been more Type A when he was sixteen, and his time working in the real world has forced him to bend in the interest of saving time, but Nezumi has a different theory: Shion had been on his best behavior in the underground room because he had always thought of it as Nezumi’s home and himself a guest staying there.

Nezumi knows he hadn’t been an easy person to live with, and he can’t say with certainty that if Shion had left messes around the underground room that he wouldn’t have used them as ammunition to threaten and criticize Shion when he felt they were getting too close.

Nezumi presses his lips together as every slight, and scowl, and unkindness he’d shown Shion when they were kids flits through his memory. No, he hadn’t been the easiest person to live with, and despite Shion’s constant probing and declarations of affection, there had always been a wall between them—mostly of Nezumi’s making, but at least part of the distance between them came from Shion’s stubborn misjudgments of his character.

Neither of them understood themselves well then, and that had made it impossible for them to understand each other.

But that was the past, and Nezumi has learned not to hold onto the things he can’t change. He and Shion aren’t the same people now, and they have agreed to start from scratch. Still, he can’t help the surprise he feels when Shion acts contrary to his perceptions, or the pangs of guilt when memories of his past conduct rise unbidden to his mind.

Nezumi peers over the countertop and finds Shion’s shiny dress shoes kicked off against the side of the heavy coffee table. A fogged-up plate cover rests atop the table, laid upon a dish towel to protect the lacquer, and Nezumi abandons foraging for a bowl to investigate. He spots a tuft of white against the dark gray of the couch and realizes that Shion is not sleeping in the bedroom after all.

The couch isn’t long enough for him to stretch out, so Shion is curled on his side in the fetal position, half of his face pressed so snugly into one of the throw pillows that Nezumi suspects he’ll have the lines and seams imprinted on his cheek when he wakes. The top few buttons of Shion’s shirt are undone, as are the buttons at his wrists, the sleeves rolled back to reveal the pale skin of his arms. Nezumi’s gaze traces the edges of the red scar wending its way around Shion’s neck, following its path until it slips beneath the collar of his shirt. He looks peaceful, and Nezumi feels some of the tension ebb out of his head and shoulders as he studies the sleeping man.

It’s odd to think of him—them—that way, as a “man.” On the road, Nezumi always remembered Shion as he had been: cute and heartbreakingly earnest, with his fluffy white hair, big brown eyes, and even bigger ideas. Nezumi had found him equal parts endearing and maddening. But the years have shaped Shion into a man of consequence and elegance.

When he walks into a room, the gravity shifts in his direction; Nezumi’s seen it on televised programs and in person. People are drawn to Shion like bees to a brilliant flower, and Nezumi has never seen someone who’s able to resist Shion’s easy charm; everyone caught in conversation with him leaves smiling and murmuring praises, no exceptions.

Nezumi always joked about Shion being royalty, but he never imagined Shion might actually become No. 6’s new era prince. Calling him Your Highness and Your Majesty seem less like teases now than his actual titles.

But Nezumi doesn’t call Shion those nicknames anymore. The first time he slipped into his old habit, Shion had given him such a look that Nezumi almost excused himself from Karan’s bakery and skipped town again. Apparently, being part of the Restructural Committee has made Shion painfully conscious of how tyrannical governments can be, and he will no longer tolerate Nezumi referring to him as No. 6’s ruler, even in jest.

That’s new: being deferential to Shion. Nezumi isn’t sure whether he’s so cautious because he’s changed enough that he cares about getting into—and staying in—Shion’s good graces, or if it’s that Shion has just become that much more intense.

Shion’s always been too much for him to handle: too warm, too stubborn, too bright, too naive. Too human. The winter they spent together in the underground room was the happiest and most terrifying winter of Nezumi’s life. West Block taught him never to get attached to anything, because he never knew when it would be snatched from him. Nezumi didn’t know how to throw Shion away, and he didn’t know how to keep him safe, so every moment they spent together was like slowly drowning.

The time away from each other has worked wonders on Nezumi’s emotional growth, and he had thought he was ready to come back and face Shion as equals, but Shion is still too much for him. The important difference between now and then, however, is that Nezumi doesn’t want to run from the challenge. He doesn’t need to fight to live anymore and Shion certainly doesn’t need his protection, so that leaves them free to be human together.

Only, Nezumi is still learning how to fully be himself in front of someone he actually wants to see every day. A transient life doesn’t give one much practice on building lasting relationships. But he’s working on it, and this new, grown-up Shion doesn’t seem to be in a rush to prise him apart.

A yellow sticky note is stuck to the top of the plate cover, and when Nezumi cranes his head to read the cramped script, a smile steals over his face. The note says, “Wake me up before you eat!” The words “wake me up” are darkened and underlined several times, a warning that this isn’t a request; it’s an order.

Nezumi has ignored Shion’s verbal instructions to wake him many times before, so he’s not sure why Shion thinks emphatic notes are going to have more weight. God knows Shion needs the sleep. He’s up at 5:00 a.m., works until the sun is far below the horizon, only to come home and continue working. If he passes out on the couch from exhaustion, Nezumi figures he shouldn’t mess with the natural order of things.

But, well… Shion did invite him over, and tonight Nezumi is feeling like a little company.

So, he muses to himself, how should I go about this?

One time, he woke Shion by dropping a stack of books on the table. He thought it would be funny to see him jump at the loud noise, but Shion screamed instead, scaring the shit out of them both. Shion was surly with him for the rest of the afternoon, but he paid Nezumi back the next morning by sneaking into his room at the bakery at the ass-crack of dawn and dumping an armful of paperbacks onto Nezumi’s head before he skipped off to work. That was some cold-served revenge Nezumi hadn’t expected and wouldn’t soon forget.

Tonight, Nezumi decides he’d rather wake Shion gently, so as to avoid any vengeful repercussions.

He reaches for Shion’s shoulder and gives him a light shake. A low groan of resistance rumbles in Shion’s throat and Nezumi gives him another nudge. “Shion. You asked for this, remember?”

Shion’s brow creases and he burrows his face deeper into the pillow, until all Nezumi can see is the mess of his sleep-mussed hair. Nezumi’s mouth twitches. Cute.

The mischievous part of his brain tells him to blow in Shion’s ear, but the rational side knows better. Nezumi slips his fingers into the soft strands of Shion’s hair and gives it a ruffle. It’s criminally soft and warm against his winter-chilled fingers.

“Wake up, Shion,” Nezumi whispers, combing the snowy locks behind his ear. “I’m hungry.”

Finally, Shion lifts his head and squints at him. “Mm. Hey. Did you just get here?” he manages, just before a huge yawn claims him.

Nezumi slides his fingers once more through Shion’s downy hair while he’s too sleepy to really notice, then folds his arms over his chest.

Shion sits up and stretches his legs out in front of him, bumping his feet against the base of the coffee table. “How was work?”

Nezumi screws his mouth to the side, but his headache has dissipated and he can’t drum up the level of annoyance he felt on the walk over, so he answers with a blasé, “Fine. Everyone still sucks.”

Shion flashes him a quick, sleepy smile and nods at the table. “I made dinner.”

Nezumi plucks the fogged-up plate cover off the dish and discovers dinner is chili. “Finally got around to using that crockpot, huh?”

“It was really easy to make. You just throw the ingredients in there and time does the rest.”

“Mhm…. You know you’re supposed to refrigerate this, or keep it in the pot until it’s ready to be served?”

Shion shrugs. “It hasn’t been out that long.”

“It’s gone cold. How long have you been sleeping on the couch? Do you even know what time it is?” Nezumi glances over at the microwave clock.

Shion slants a look at him. “Time to stop being mean to me. I just woke up from a nap, and you know how I get when I’m woken up from a nap.”

Nezumi feigns a cringe. “Yes. All too well.” He takes the bowl and crosses the room to pop it in the microwave. 

When he turns back around, he finds Shion tidying the living room, heaping the dish towel, the plate cover, and his fancy work shoes into his arms before moving to the kitchen table for his tie and bag. He still looks half asleep. Nezumi leans back against the counter and watches Shion stumble around in the half light, his hands full of his mess.

For all that Shion has grown, he’s still very much the boy Nezumi remembers: soft and effortless and searching. Teenaged Nezumi had been a fortress, but Shion’s goodness always fleet-footed its way up the ramparts.

Shion’s quiet tenacity used to scare him. Now it feels like a blessing that someone cares enough to try to breach his walls. If Nezumi hadn’t had the memories of Shion’s warmth through the lonely nights of travel, he wasn’t sure what paths he would have taken, or if the journey would ever have led him back to No. 6.

Shion catches him staring and pauses on the other side of the island counter. “Why are you laughing at me?”

“I haven’t made a sound.”

“Your eyes are laughing at me.”

Nezumi snorts. “My, we really are in a bad mood, aren’t we?”

Shion’s shoulders drop and he sighs. “Yeah, sorry. Today was…long.” He shifts the heap he has collected in his arms and turns to the dining table, weighing his chances of success should he try to add the paper-laden briefcase to his horde.

“You should go to bed,” Nezumi says. “You look one object away from crumpling to the floor. I’ll clean up and leave once I’m done with eating.”

“No, I want to have dinner with you tonight. That’s why I invited you over. I just…” Shion hums in thought, still sizing up the briefcase. He clicks his tongue. “Oh, never mind. I give up,” Shion huffs, and dumps the collection in his arms onto the far end of the table to be fussed over at a time when he has more brain power to deal with it.

Nezumi chuckles, and turns to the beeping microwave to retrieve his food.

Shion settles himself in his designated chair, and Nezumi takes up the seat across from him.

“Where’s your bowl?” Nezumi asks. “You said you wanted to eat dinner with me.”

“Hm? Oh…” Shion colors slightly. “Right, well… I was hungry when I got home, and it was a while before you were supposed to come over, so I already ate.”

Nezumi raises an eyebrow. “And you were asleep before I even got here. I wonder why I came over at all. These are not the actions of a host looking forward to his guest.”

“I was looking forward to you coming over,” Shion insists. “I would have called you to cancel, if I wasn’t. And falling asleep was not on purpose.”

“It was on purpose enough that you had the forethought to leave a note to wake you up.”

Shion has no defense for that, apparently, and drops his gaze to the steam rising from the chili bowl. Nezumi bites down on a smile.

“I can make a small bowl for myself, if you want to eat together,” Shion offers, but Nezumi waves him off.

“Just keep me company and I’ll consider you forgiven.”

The chili is delicious, the perfect balance of spices and liquid consistency. But then, it’s Karan’s recipe, so of course it’s perfect.

When Nezumi first arrived in No. 6, he stayed in a room on the cusp between what used to be West Block territory and Lost Town. He remained there, alone, for a week, fussing over when and where and how he would announce to Shion he was back. He finally resolved upon visiting Karan first, since she was the mini boss in this situation.

Karan hugged him before he even finished reintroducing himself, and things snowballed from there. A month later, Nezumi found himself moved into Shion’s old room in the Lost Town bakery and having family dinners with Karan, Shion, Inukashi, baby Shionn, and occasionally Rikiga. The warm family atmosphere is at once disorienting, uncomfortable, and deeply satisfying. Being part of a greater whole appeals to a part of himself that Nezumi hadn’t even realized he had been missing.

The biggest perk of living with Karan, however, is that Nezumi has his pick of the most delicious foods and pastries imaginable. Nezumi has experienced some extremely novel, odd, and mouth-watering cuisines while traveling abroad, but Karan’s cooking could compete with the best of them. She makes simple things, comfort food, but every recipe is executed perfectly, and Nezumi would take common food made well over fancy dishes any day.

Shion rests his chin in his hand and says nothing as Nezumi eats. He looks more alert now. The glossy film of sleep has faded from his eyes, and Shion’s gaze is back to its usual level of penetrating. Shion’s ability to stare like he can see past all your bullshit directly into your soul hasn’t changed one bit. In fact, being a member of No. 6’s governing body seems to have made his perceptions more astute.

This is both a comfort and a cause of deep uneasiness.

“You must like it,” Shion says, “because you’re not saying anything.”

Nezumi spoons another bite into his mouth and chews on that comment. “I’m not sure I like what you’re insinuating. It sounds like you think I only talk to criticize.”

Shion straightens. “That’s not what I meant.”

“Fishing for compliments, then?” Nezumi shrugs a shoulder. “Alright. Karan’s recipe is really delicious. You must give her my praises.”

Shion turns face away and shakes his head, but Nezumi still catches the curve of his incredulous smirk. Nighttime sparring is Nezumi’s preferred type, because Shion is usually too tired to win.

“Deliver the praises yourself,” Shion says. “You live there, not me.”

“I compliment Karan all the time. But I don’t think it means as much coming from me.”

“It means a lot. Mom loves you.”

Nezumi hums a sound of assent and decides to be civil and ask, “How was your day, then?”

“Fine.” Shion leans back in his chair and folds his arms across his chest. “Everyone still sucks.”

Nezumi points his spoon at him. “Touché.”

Shion laughs lightly, but a moment later his face sours and he sighs. “Talking about work after work is depressing. Can we talk about something better?”

“I would love to, but I don’t think either of us do much else but work and read, Shion. And last time I tried to discuss literature with you over dinner, you told me to stop.”

Shion leans his elbows on the table and laces his fingers together, his expression serious. “You were playing devil’s advocate too much. I don’t get why people do that. If we’re having a discussion about something, I want to know your opinion, not an opposing opinion for opposition’s sake. And if it is actually your opinion, then don’t hide behind ‘playing devil’s advocate.’ Just be honest about it; otherwise, you come off as an uppity snob, parroting views that aren’t even yours just to pick a fight.” 

“…I feel like you’ve been sitting on that diatribe for quite some time.”

“I was thinking about it all week,” Shion admits. “People in the office do it, too, all the time, and it drives me crazy.”

Nezumi nods his head slowly. “Duly noted. Anything else you’ve been stewing on that you want to share?”

Shion’s expression goes quiet. His interlaced fingers tense, but he holds Nezumi’s gaze and says lightly, “No. That’s it.” 

The temperature in the room drops a few degrees. Okay… That’s concerning. Nezumi focuses on scraping the last remnants of chili from his bowl to mask his confusion. What did Shion have on his mind that he didn’t want to share?

Did I offend him?

Shion hasn’t seemed irritated or guarded around him lately, but then Nezumi doesn’t know him as well as he used to. Shion’s basically a politician now and is well-versed in evading uncomfortable questions and bending truths. But even though Shion has gained some important networking skills, he hasn’t changed that much in essentials; he’s still straightforward and fiercely opinionated. If Nezumi pisses him off, Shion lets him have it right then and there. So whatever it is, it’s a touchy enough subject that even Shion balks at mentioning it.

Does he want me to back off?

Nezumi’s stomach twists, and his appetite shrinks in the shadow of his thoughts. It’s barely been any time at all since Shion welcomed him back. He couldn’t be sick of him yet… Right?

Nezumi knew reuniting with Shion wouldn’t be seamless. They would have to relearn each other; they’re different now, and there’s no pretending that difference away when they’re in close quarters with one another. He had expected anger and hurt when he and Shion finally faced each other again, but Shion has shown him nothing but warmth. Shion’s emotions are more muted at twenty-four years old than they were at sixteen, but he is no less gracious or willing to throw open his home to Nezumi again.

Nezumi had been grateful for the warm welcome. It was proof that Shion still wanted him around, but he also recognizes that Shion’s willingness to try again merely meant Nezumi had gotten his foot in the door.

Nezumi knows very well he’s on probation.

The seven years of separation that had brought Nezumi so much clarity had apparently caused Shion a lot of pain. Nezumi has picked up enough from Karan and Inukashi to piece together the broken picture of Shion’s life in the first four years of their separation: anxiety, depression, periods of simmering misdirected anger. As happy as Shion’s friends and family are that Nezumi made good on his promise and returned—as happy as Shion claims to be—they have reservations about letting him slip back into Shion’s life. They want definitive proof that he’s here to stay, and will not make a ruin of Shion’s feelings a second time.

Nezumi thought he gave Shion that proof when he agreed to move in with Karan. He thought he’s shown his dedication through the family dinners, and casual conversations, and solicitude for Shion’s personal space over the last few months, but maybe he’s growing too slowly for it to work. Maybe for all the progress Nezumi has made he isn’t enough for Shion anymore.

In West Block, Shion needed him; he was marooned and uncertain, and Nezumi was his only support and source of information. But Nezumi isn’t Shion’s whole world now. Shion has work, and friends, and a mother who loves him, and he’s gotten by just fine while they were apart. Maybe he’s realized that Nezumi no longer fits into his life the way he used to.

“Nezumi? What’re you thinking about?”

Nezumi glares down into his empty bowl. He never wants to return to the angry, caged person he had been, but sometimes he remembers what a bitter hell it is to care about another person, and he wishes he could push away the feelings instead of letting them burn through him.

“Nezumi?” Shion reaches across the table and pokes his bowl with the tip of his pointer finger. “Are you alright?”

“Fine. Just thinking about what you said earlier, about being honest.” Nezumi pushes out his chair and stands. “Easier said than done sometimes.”

He takes the bowl to the kitchen sink and begins to wash it. Midway through soaping the spoon with the sponge, he hears Shion’s soft footfalls on the tile behind him. His presence pricks at the back of Nezumi’s neck like heat, but he keeps his attention on the sink.

“You can use the dishwasher, you know….”

“Old habit,” Nezumi answers. He rinses the spoon off, places it in the drying rack, and moves on to the bowl.

Stupid, Nezumi curses himself. Old habits indeed. He’s too old to be covering his insecurity with fits of pique.

And what is he so upset about, anyway? Shion hasn’t said he’s unhappy or he wants him to leave. He could be hiding something entirely different—he could be hiding nothing at all. Maybe Shion’s just tired. Maybe they’re both very tired and being weird for no reason and everything will settle itself in the morning.

Nezumi scrubs the bowl until the brilliant blue of the glass is completely eclipsed by soap.

“I made you mad,” Shion says like a revelation. “Why?”

Why? Nezumi doesn’t have to do any deep meditation on the question. He’s upset because he has feelings now and everything is inconvenient. Every one of Shion’s smiles makes him hopeful, and every frown and cautious reply sends his mind into a paranoid spiral. And although he’s in tune enough with his emotions now to acknowledge what he’s feeling, his stubborn pride is still an obstacle to expressing them.

So here he is, acting like a spoiled child about something that isn’t even confirmed.

Nezumi splashes a bit of water over the bowl and drops it onto the bottom of the sink with suds still clinging to the rim. He scrubs the water from his hands with a cloth and faces Shion.

“I’m not mad,” Nezumi mutters. “I’m…” Off balance. Terrified. Utterly inept. “Confused,” he hedges.

Shion bites his lip, his dark eyes wide and searching, and Nezumi tries not to sound like too much of an insecure fool when he says, “You lied to me just now. There’s something on your mind.”

Annnnd, now I sound accusatory. Nice. Shion doesn’t answer immediately and it makes the moment so much worse. 

Why did he have to be a masochist and call him out? He should have ignored the awkwardness and enjoyed Shion’s company instead. If Shion is uncertain of their relationship, he could have used tonight to convince him it’s worth giving them another chance. Instead, he’s forced Shion to tip his hand.

With every silent second that passes, Shion looks more uncomfortable and Nezumi wants to crawl out of his skin. He can’t stand the nervous tilt to Shion’s expression. Nezumi turns back toward the sink and runs the water over the bowl again, just to have a reason to escape Shion’s gaze, no matter how transparent.

“I didn’t want to bring it up yet,” Shion says softly behind him. The words trace a line of cold down Nezumi’s spine. “I wasn’t sure how you’d react, and I didn’t—” Shion pauses and clears his throat.

The bowl is clean, but Nezumi keeps the water running, staring down at the stream and dissociating while he waits for Shion to deliver the critical blow.

“It’s only been a few months, and I know you’re still settling in at Mom’s,” Shion continues. “I didn’t want to put too much pressure on you.”

Pressure? Nezumi’s racing heart makes it very difficult to think properly, but he vaguely realizes Shion’s words are a strange lead up to telling him to hit the road.

Nezumi flicks the faucet off and half turns to peer at him. Shion straightens when their eyes meet and a combination of relief and agitation flits over his face before falling into a guilty sort of apprehension.

“I was afraid,” Shion says. “I didn’t want to scare you away when things have been going so well.”

“Scare me away…how?” Nezumi is thankful he’s such an accomplished actor, because it allows him to deliver the question with completely calm curiosity. Internally, he is a mess of electricity. Shion doesn’t want to scare him away, which means Shion wants to keep him close. His heart is pounding so hard his head feels like it’s going to explode.

Shion opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, then turns his burning face aside and fixes his eyes on the front door. He’s raking his thumbnail so deeply and incessantly against the second knuckle of his pointer finger that he seems in danger of rubbing the skin raw.

“I wanted to ask…” Shion mumbles to the door, “whether you might consider…staying here.”

Nezumi drums his fingers quietly on the counter but otherwise stays very still as he probes, “Here as in…?”

“Here. My house.”

The faucet releases an errant drop into the sink; the faint plop is thunderous in the silence stretched taut between them. Nezumi clears his throat and turns his body the rest of the way to face Shion straight on. Shion glances at him sidewise, probably trying to read his expression, but as Nezumi is keeping his face carefully devoid of emotion, Shion will get nothing.

Nezumi leans back, crosses his arms across his chest, and asks as casually as humanly possible, “You want me to stay over tonight?”

He’s pretty sure Shion doesn’t mean anything suggestive by it, considering they are not romantically involved anymore—yet?—but even as a platonic invitation it makes Nezumi’s breath catch in his throat.

Shion eyes Nezumi up and down, and although he knows Shion’s probably just trying to get a read on him, a flash of heat skitters over Nezumi’s skin. He shifts fractionally and Shion’s eyebrows twitch up in equal measure. Shion stops pretending to be fascinated with the door, and Nezumi has a sense that he’s given something crucial away.

“No. Well—not exactly,” Shion says. “I want you to move in with me.”

Nezumi’s mind sticks.

Move in. Shion isn’t trying to get rid of him. In fact, Shion isn’t tired of him at all. He wants to live with him again.

Which is…terrifying? Exciting? Baffling and blessed and wholly unexpected. Nezumi isn’t sure how to feel about this sudden invitation, because he hasn’t belonged somewhere in years. He had never thought he was the type to stay put.

Until Shion.

His whole impetus for slowing down and returning was Shion. They’ve been stuck in each other’s orbits since they were twelve years old, and Nezumi has finally reached the point where he’s ready to submit to the gravity of them. But that’s a two-way street, and Nezumi expected he would have to match Shion’s patience if he ever had a chance of winning him back. If he and Shion ended up together, this time it wouldn’t be an arrangement of convenience or necessity; it would be because they had chosen to build a life side by side.

And Shion is asking me to live with him again.

Nezumi realizes he’s been silent too long when Shion starts twitch and flutter, a telltale sign he’s about to launch into a nervous ramble. God, Nezumi is so grateful time hasn’t trained that quirk out of him.

“I know it’s kind of… Kind of quick, maybe?” Shion babbles. “And maybe it’s a little backwards, since we’re not…together anymore, yet, and people usually move in after they’re already together, but…” He flushes, but pushes through the stumble quickly. “But we’ve done it before, and it worked then, and I think it will work just as well now. Better, even. We’re older, and we both know what we want out of life—and each other.”

Not the most coherent speech, but Nezumi agrees with all the sentiments. Even so, he finds himself asking, “Are you sure that’s what you want?”

Maybe it’s a dumb question in light of Shion’s confession, but Nezumi has to ask it. He has to hear the answer in order to quell the doubts bubbling up from the darkest parts of his mind, the parts that have grown quieter as he’s grown, but still whisper he’s not worth it, that he’s twisted and broken and taints any goodness that comes his way.

“I’m sure,” Shion says. “I’ve thought a lot about it and I realized something.” He takes a deep breath and stares directly into Nezumi’s eyes as he says, “I don’t need you anymore, Nezumi. I can get on just fine without you; I know that. But I want you in my life. And it seems like you want that too?”

“Yes.” Nezumi’s answer lacks Shion’s conviction, but it’s alright; Shion knows him well enough to realize he wouldn’t agree to something so serious if he isn’t committed. “I would like that.”

Shion releases a small breath. “So it’s a yes?” He slides a bit closer along the counter. “You’ll move in? You don’t have to. I know it’s fast and you’re used to being alone. I won’t be offended if you need more time.”

“I don’t. I’ve had plenty of time to think too, you know.”

“Right,” Shion laughs lightly. “Okay. Good.”

Nezumi and Shion smile at each other in the wake of their new understanding. Despite the wintry draft slipping in under the front door, the kitchen feels warm.

Too warm.

“I’m not as clean as you,” Nezumi blurts. Moving in together is fun in theory and Nezumi definitely wants to, but it’s only fair he be upfront about what Shion’s about to get stuck with.

Shion’s smile is incandescent. “I know. It’s fine.”

“And I’m told I still kick in my sleep.”

“I have a queen bed now, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“I shower in the mornings, and it takes at least twenty minutes, so you’ll have to factor that in when you get up for work.”

“I shower at night, so I think it’ll be fine.” Shion pauses. “But twenty minutes is a long time. What do you do in there for so long?”

Nezumi ignores the question and launches into his next point. “You’re going to need more bookcases. At least two more. I have a shit ton of books; they barely fit in my room as it is.”

Shion glances at his back wall. “I’ve been meaning to buy more anyway.” He raises his eyebrows. “Anything else?”

A million other things, but Nezumi decides that’s enough for the moment. Shion’s eyes are wide and full of laughter and the bit of scar peeking out from his unbuttoned collar is all of a sudden very distracting.

“You better not change your mind about this,” warns Nezumi. “Once I move in, I’m not leaving again.”

Shion’s eyes flash. “Is that a threat or a promise?”

Nezumi can’t help but smile when he answers, “A promise.”

Shion lifts his chin and nods, evidently pleased. They regard each other shyly for a moment before Shion decides to diffuse the tension by announcing they’re going to watch a movie.

Ten minutes in and Nezumi pretends not to notice when Shion’s head starts to nod. Twenty minutes in, and Shion is back to being face-down on the throw pillow. Nezumi abandons the movie-watching farce and watches Shion sleep instead.

This is what I’m signing up for, Nezumi thinks, shaking his head. Night after night of Shion asleep and defenseless on the couch. He cards his fingers through the fluffy white hair at the nape of Shion’s neck.

He can hardly wait.