#tentatively and doubtfully

[hoziersredguitar]

I miss old tumblr in the sense that i could complain about board exams and worrying about not getting enough to be eligible for my medical entrance test and i'd have summoned half the indian side of tumblr to sympathize

[hezzabeth]

I know that a Miss Havisham costume in a playhouse should be more regency period… but that’s Whistleton’s theme. Anyway in todays part the gang head on off to Medieval Faire!

"If they had their way, they would have burned anyone with colorful hair, but that would mean losing most of their actors," Revati explained to Brigadeiro who had vaguely followed her into the cafes fridge.

“That would mean killing the entire population of my town” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“It’s not that I hate wearing dresses! Sometimes I love wearing dresses; I just hate being told what I have to wear by some stupid actors based on my reproductive organs,” Revati said to Bridgadeiro, who had vaguely followed her into the fridge.

“You would love the space station! Everyone wears whatever they want, in their assigned colors, of course,” Bridgadeiro remarked.

“I’m sorry, is there a reason why you’ve followed me in here? I need to get changed!” Revati informed him, and he had the decency to blush with embarrassment.

“Dreadfully sorry! I just wanted to let you know I’m done with the plant thing and wanted to ask if I could go home now,” Bridgadeiro asked.

“You can leave any time you like. I’m assuming you’ve figured out a way to stop yourself from freezing to death?” Revati asked as she pulled out a skirt.

“Ah, no, I had a special tent when I was rose collecting, but the chanting naked people stole it!” Bridgadeiro admitted.

Revati examined the skirt. It was one of Amma’s early creations, several burlap potato sacks that had been sewed together.

“Well, I'm not your mother; I’m sure you’ll figure things out eventually,” Revati admitted, and Bridgadeiro chuckled.

“Believe me, I know you’re not my mother; she would have called every single planetary embassy in the solar system!” Bridgadeiro replied as Revati wiggled the skirt off over her pants.

“Is it supposed to look like that?” Bridgadeiro asked doubtfully as the skirt sagged around Revati’s legs in awful shades of mustard.

“It will do,” Revati grumbled.

Dityaa and Aurora were waiting for Revati under one of the new trees. Aurora was wearing a long shapeless tunic belted at the waist. Dityaa, however, had put on a dress made entirely out of yellowing white lace and satin. The sleeves were gigantic clouds bursting from her shoulders. The bodice was cut right across the front with tiny pearl buttons. The skirt had been artfully torn in several places revealing layers of fluffy tulle. The hemline had come undone, and it was dragging in the mud. But none of it really seemed to matter. The dress made her glow.

“Is that what you’re wearing? The ragbag skirt!” Dityaa asked, sounding horrified.

“Is that what you’re wearing? That’s the Miss Havisham's wedding dress from the Dickensian theater! They will take one look at you and know you’re from a different part of the park,” Revati pointed out, equally horrified. No one performed in the actual theater, but everyone read the scripts left abandoned inside.

“It’s pretty! I want to look my best,” sniffed Dityaa.

“The character who wore it went crazy on her wedding day and then died in a fire! She also lived in the 1860s,” Revati pointed out.

“It’s fine, I took all the plastic spiders off it,” Dityaa waved casually.

“You probably should wear something better; the actors in medieval faire will assume you’re a peasant. They’ll make you dig latrines,” Aurora said to Revati.

“The dress I wore last night is filthy! I don’t have time to wash anything else,” Revati snapped back irritably as she marched to the cart.

“You could just borrow something from my collection,” Dityaa said.

“You once told me if I ever borrowed from your collection you would shave my head in my sleep,” Revati replied.

“I was thirteen! A child! Anyway, I can’t have you digging toilets; imagine the embarrassment,” Dityaa said, and then her eyes widened briefly.

“He will need to put someone on as well; that jumpsuit will get his throat slit,” Dityaa said, and Revati glanced over her shoulder. Bridgadeiro was standing a couple of feet behind her.

“I thought I could ask the naked chanters for my tent back,” he said.

“Fine, but you’re digging your own grave,” Revati replied, and Bridgadeiro’s brow wrinkled with confusion.

“Grave?”

“You know, the hole a dead body goes in,” Aurora said helpfully.

“That’s horrifying! Back home we don’t do that, back home bodies are turned into diamonds and then launched into space,” Bridgadeiro said, and a faint smile crossed his face.

“The memorial rings floating around the space station really are dazzling.”

“Fine, let’s quickly change our clothes and head out before Amma gets back from her daily walk,” Revati snapped irritably.

Medieval faire loomed over Olde Landon. "Loomed" really was the only word to describe it. The park architects had deliberately placed it in the castle on a giant hill in the park's center. Its gigantic craggy walls cast shadows all the way to Shakespeare Lane. The giant copper dragon could be seen all the way in Whistletown. On windy days, you could smell smoke spiraling from its towers. The smoke was the only proof Revati had that the actors and tourists inside were still alive.

“So, how do we get in?” Revati asked as Bridgadeiro helped her push the cart.

“The back way is in Marzipan Martian’s confections,” Aurora said, and Revati shuddered.

“You don’t like lollies?” Bridgadeiro asked.

“I don’t like ants; Marzipan Martians is infested with them,” Revati replied, shuddering again.

“Oh, come on, ants aren’t that bad! The parks on the space station are full of them,” Bridgadeiro replied as Aurora approached the lolly shop.

“Have you ever seen a Martian ant? They’re the size of your fist!” Revati protested.

Revati remembered the lolly shop before the invasion. In the window, there was a sculpture of the lost princess made entirely out of chocolate. Jars of hard-boiled sweets and rainbow lollipops had been arranged in intricate patterns around her feet. Revati had bolted inside holding Dityaa’s hand. The air smelled of burnt sugar and cinnamon. Massive rainbow bins filled with wrapped lollies sat on groaning tables. Tourists bustled about snatching up boxes of “genuine Turkish delight”.

A lady in a uniform stood in the corner demonstrating how boiled sugar was turned into lemon sweets.

Dityaa was begging mother for a “real” chocolate princess. “And what do you want, Revati?” Her father asked her. Was that when the sirens hit? Was that when the appliances invaded? Or did it all happen when they were in the toy shop next door? The ants had long ago eaten the chocolate princess. They had also managed to knock over and break most of the jars.

“The ants are fine, just leave them alone and don’t try to steal their eggs,” Aurora assured them as she opened the shop door.

The inside of the shop was surprisingly clean and orderly. Broken jars had been swept into orderly piles. The wooden shelves and surfaces were dust-free.

Someone had turned all the abandoned mint-green gift boxes into a pyramid.

“Did you do this?” Revati asked curiously.

“No, the ants did. They’re surprisingly intelligent in a busy, orderly sort of way! I sleep back here,” Aurora said, walking behind the shop's blue and white checkout counter.

“Wait, you sleep in a shop filled with giant ants? I never knew that,” Revati confessed as Bridgadeiro tried to push the cart in while keeping the door open.

“I knew,” Dityaa sang, swinging herself over the counter.

“You never asked, and it had nothing to do with our professional working relationship,” Aurora replied with a small shrug.

Aurora slept on a bed made out of old sugar sacks with a pillow in the shape of a lollipop. There was an old shoebox next to the nest where an ant lay inside.

“That’s Queenie; she’s not dead! Just sleeping,” Aurora explained before knocking on the wall four times. The wall slid aside with a faint whoosh.

A teenage girl was standing on the other side. A girl dressed in a green velvet robe with incredibly long, messy gray hair. Her soft blue eyes fell on Aurora briefly with a small smile before noticing everyone else.

“Hark, my sweet, who be these folk and for what cause do they grace our presence?” She asked in a peculiar accent.

“What does hark and doth mean?” Bridgadeiro whispered.

“This is my boss, Mistress Revati, her sister, and some random boy,” Aurora explained, and the girl sniffed.

“Mistress Revati, this is my girlfriend Isabeau,” Aurora said with a small smile.

Isabeau slowly stepped into the room, her head held high, walking towards Dityaa.

“Pray, art thou the lady Revati? Thou appearest more tender than mine expectations did foretell! Verily, I find favor in thy gown,” she said to Dityaa.

“Thank you! I found it sitting in a pile of ash; I think the appliances vaporized the actress wearing it,” Dityaa giggled.

“I’m Mistress Revati,” Revati corrected Isabeau, who briefly glanced at her.

“Thou doth make sense, though dost bear semblance to a barbarous witch, a crone of eldritch mien," sniffed Isabeau.

“Isabeau! Please try to be nice to my boss,” Aurora flushed with embarrassment.

“Yes, play nice or this eldritch witch will hack that wall down and flood your entire castle with giant ants,” Revati snapped back.

Isabeau merely turned away from Revati before turning to her girlfriend.

“I surmise thy lady doth desire something," she said.

“We need to melt this android in your blacksmith's forge,” Revati explained, and Bridgadeiro, who was holding the cart, waved.

Isabeau walked towards the cart, examining the android. Her gentle blank expression seemed to twitch slightly, like a rock being thrown into a still pool.

“If the Luddites espy this within the castle walls, verily, they shall take thy life," she said, holding up the android's hand, examining it.

“I’m sorry, did she just say someone will kill us?” Bridgadeiro asked nervously.

“They’re not going to see it! It’s not like we’re going to put it on display in the town center,” Revati pointed out.

“Conceal this abomination and follow me hence," Isabeau said, walking back to the gap in the wall.

The gap in the wall was actually the side of a small courtyard. Sitting on a wooden table were six beehives, vibrating gently in the chilly air.

“In hushed steps, proceed, for the bees in their winter slumber rest,” Isabeau whispered, walking past the hives to an arched tunnel.

[inourselveswetrust]

These anons live for the angst but I’m desperate for more fluff! How would your lovely ROs react if, while in a relationship, MC said their first “I love you” by accident? (For example, an “I love you!” cried out during sex, or a sleepy, soft “I love you, darling” before drifting into slumber or even a quick “Thank you for the coffee, babe, I love you!” before rushing out the door.). <3

I'm terrible at writing fluff but here's my attempt! I hope it's not terrible 💀

Exhaustion grips your mind, fraying at your little remaining awareness and consciousness. Your cellphone sits mere inches from your face, and you can hear occasional sounds from the other end. The sound of August shuffling restlessly, an infrequent sniffle and periodic yawn.

“I’m falling asleep,” you say sleepily, your voice undoubtedly tinged with tiredness. 

“Goodnight, sleep well,” August replies, their own voice thick with fatigue.

 “Goodnight,” you repeat. “I love you.”

The confession slips past your weary walls, you don’t even realize what you’d said until August’s stuttered intake of breath pulls you from sleep’s warm embrace. 

“Can I come over?” August asks, a desperate tinge in their voice. “I need to see you.” 

You hesitate for a moment, and you’re far too tired to ponder why. Perhaps it’s because you have no energy, maybe it’s because you still struggle to be vulnerable with August after their betrayal, or it’s possible you’re avoiding deconstructing your own muddled feelings. 

“Okay,” you reply, and August releases a deep sigh. The muffled noises of August getting out of bed, dressing, and navigating to your home lull you, a welcomed peace consuming you.

You’re not sure whether two minutes or two hours pass, but the sound of footsteps in your home disturbs you. Footsteps you recognize, footsteps that make you feel safe rather than fearful of an intruder. The blanket pulls from you, and arms encircle you as legs tangle with yours. 

“It’s always been you,” August murmurs into your ear, their lips brushing your skin. “I’ve always loved you, even when my heart didn’t deserve you.”

___

“Thanks for bringing me some more cold cases,” you say as Blair begins putting on their coat. “And thank you for visiting me.”

“Of course, there’s no need to thank me,” Blair replies, their dismissal not unexpected. You’ve learned Blair’s never one to accept thanks, their job is, quite literally, thankless. “Rather, I should be thanking you for agreeing to review them. All those cases deserve to be reviewed, and I trust you’ll find something other officers have missed.”

Blair’s praise is not foreign, it’s common and reoccurring, yet it always leaves you feeling breathless. They have never failed to make you feel appreciated and, most of all, seen. They recognize you; they honour you. 

When your best friend betrayed you and your colleagues ousted you, one person remained. One person respected you, they trusted you – Blair believed you more than anyone or anything. Despite the risk to their career, they maintained contact with you, albeit discreetly. 

“I love you,” you respond, the confession is murmured like a curse. The air in the room dissipates and you struggle to breathe as you await their reaction – dread and hope mingle deep within you, neither surpassing the other. 

With keen eyes, you observe Blair tense, and you wait with bated breath. “Are you certain?” Blair asks doubtfully, their gaze fixated on you with a serious, unreadable expression.

Words escape you, your mind thinking too quickly yet too slowly to respond, so you merely nod repeatedly, frantic to admit the truth. You anxiously await a reaction, silently hoping for a whispered reciprocation. 

“Can I stay a bit longer?” They ask tentatively, their hands reaching for you but halting before contact, hesitant but desperate. You nod again.

Effortless, idle chat, yearning glances and ghost-like touches occupy the evening, saying more than words ever could. Blair may not yet admit their affection, but their ease around you tells you enough for now.

___

“I should get going,” you sigh, disappointment brewing inside you. While you’d like to stay with Wren, you know spending too much time together may begin drawing unwanted attention. Specifically, the attention of your former employer and colleagues.

“Do you have to?” Wren whines, pouting exaggeratedly. Their hands roam your skin, urging and tempting you to stay. Begging you not to leave.

“Yes,” you reply, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to their lips. You feel a smile overtake their pout, though it promptly returns as you pull away. Wren stares at you with wide, pleading eyes – puppy dog eyes they had no right mastering – and your resolve briefly wavers. “I’ll see you tonight, I love you.”

The declaration escapes you like a whispering wind, the words feel as seamless as water flowing downstream and as familiar as the season’s changing. It’s so natural you fail to hear the admission break free from its cage.

Hands reach out and grasp yours - clutching you like a lifeline in a storm – and halt your departure. Confused, you turn to Wren expectantly, only to find them staring at you with glossy, watery eyes. With a hoarse voice, they say “Call in sick, please.” 

They can’t let you leave after such a declaration; they refuse to allow this moment to be interrupted. They need you near, holding them and allowing them to return your confession with one of their own. 

___

Papers are scattered across your table, a headache pulses against your skull and your eyes burn with fatigue. The sun has long set, and unknown to you, it’s beginning to rise. 

“I believe we should take a break,” Neve says suddenly, shattering the silence that had settled between you. “We have been researching for hours, I worry we will begin missing critical information soon.”

“Just a few more pages,” you protest, though your efforts are only half-hearted. “We need to find out more, I know what we’re looking for is in here.”

“Very well,” Neve responds, nodding once. “May I make some coffee while you finish your reading?” they ask.

“Yeah, the coffee is in the pantry to the left,” you answer, not tearing your eyes from the increasingly blurry words. Your focus wavers, and you find yourself rereading the same sentences multiple times yet not retaining anything. 

Neve sits on your sofa, placing two steaming mugs of coffee on your end table. With a sigh, you pull yourself from your reading and stand from the dining table, moving to sit on the sofa a few feet from Neve.

You lose track of what happens next, but soon you’re sprawled across the cushions and nearly asleep, your coffee untouched. Your consciousness drifts, straying further with every passing minute. Just before you fall into the abyss calling your name, a blanket is splayed across you. Blearily, you squint up at Neve who absentmindedly tucks you in, ensuring you’re comfortable.

“I love you,” you mumble tiredly, then promptly fall asleep. 

“Sleep well,” Neve whispers, even though they know you can’t hear them. Had you remained awake after your confession, you would’ve seen the vibrant blush on Neve’s cheeks.

[nokomiss]

For a prompt: How about JaySteph, established relationship, hijacking a boat (you can pick what kind) for a mission.

@hollie47 I hope you enjoy!

“I feel like that’s the wrong thing to do,” Steph said. “Like. Morally. I get your bigger-picture talk but. Come on.”

“It’s just temporary,” Jason argued. “We’ll bring it right back.”

Steph gave him a look. “When have we ever returned anything we requisitioned in its original form?”

“I mean.” Jason said, thinking. “Once I brought the Batmobile back with a full tank of gas.”

“And missing a fender,” Steph said. “I remember that clearly, because it got brought up the next time I asked to borrow the Batmobile.”

Jason sighed. “I just really don’t want to swim, y’know? Do you know how heavy this outfit is?”

“Mine’s not exactly a bikini either,” Steph said.  The river flowed sluggishly, and it would be doable to swim, but Jason brought up a good point there. She also knew from his previous bitching that not all of his supplies were waterproofed, and she felt like that was a bigger factor. Just not one he wanted to say out loud in public, for fear of rogues with water guns. 

Water balloons? She tried to remember if she’d ever come up against someone throwing evil water balloons and drew a blank.

She turned her attention back to the boat. Well, canoe. It belonged to the troop of Girl Scouts snoozing in their tents in a nearby clearing; they had taken care to avoid the group. The den mothers were still awake, sitting around the fire chatting quietly, and here were Steph and Jason, contemplating stealing what was clearly their transport back to civilization.  

“We have to bring it back,” she said firmly. Taking down a human trafficker was important, but stranding a group of Girl Scouts in the forest was decidedly not great. “Like. In working condition.”

“It’s a canoe, how hard will that be?” Jason asked. He shot her a grin that made Steph a little weak in the knees, not that she would ever tell him that, because only an idiot would hand Jason Todd a weapon like that.

She climbed in, and after a few moments of fumbling they figured out the whole paddling rhythm, and soon they were on the other shore and chasing down the bad guy.

Which went fine!

Steph was pretty proud of the fact that they got both the trafficker and his contact, and they rescued four teenagers, and all of that was very, very good.

Unfortunately, though. Unfortunately…  The vigilante curse had struck again.

She and Jason stood on the bank of the river after having arranged for the pickup of their captures, had handed over the evidence, and had done a by-the-books job! Except for one minor detail.

“When the hell did it even catch on fire?” Jason despaired, looking at the canoe. “It’s in water.”

It was still smoking, the flames having been doused as soon as they’d gotten there.  Ironically enough, Steph and Jason were now soaked through, having been forced to dive into the water to splash river water directly onto the flames.  

“Maybe it’s not as bad as it looks?” Jason said doubtfully. “Let’s get the water out of it.”

They tipped it enough to get the water out, then settled the canoe back into the water.  Immediately water gurgled back into it from a gaping hole in the bottom. “Yeah, this guy’s toast. Burnt toast. We should go tell the Girl Scouts.”

“We’re not waking up a bunch of nine year olds to tell them we killed their canoe,” Jason said. “I refuse.”

“We can’t just leave them!” Steph argued. The canoe dipped deeper into the water. “We have to replace it.”

“Yeah, that’s fair,” Jason said.

A few calls to some slightly shady people Jason was familiar with later – neither willing to call Babs in, unwilling to face the level of mockery that she would send their way – and forty five minutes of sitting on the river bank contemplating what to do with the charred remains of the canoe later, a boat was delivered.

A pontoon boat. It was big enough to host a small party. 

“Thanks,” Jason said, staring at the boat. “That’s… exactly what I wanted. Good work.”

“You got it, boss,” said the guy who was absolutely not a goon because Jason didn’t employ those any more said, and merrily went about his way, oblivious to the concept of sarcasm.

“Good help is hard to find,” Steph said, patting him on the arm.

They left a “Sorry about your canoe :(“ banner pinned to the side of the pontoon, decided to leave give the canoe a burial at sea so the Girl Scouts wouldn’t be distressed at the sight of their canoe’s sad remains, and left it at that.

And they would have left it at that! 

But the next night Babs called them both in to check out a lead on something, and when they arrived at the Clocktower, they were greeted with multiple headlines displayed prominently on some of Oracle’s biggest screens, ranging from positive (Girls Scouts Receive Gift From Mysterious Benefactor!) to bland (Girl Scouts’ Missing Canoe Replaced With Pontoon) to derisive (Thief Destroys Girl Scout Property).

“Hi Babs, lookin’ good today!” Steph said, trying her best to ignore the headlines.

“Really, Steph? Flattery?” Babs said, raising an eyebrow.

Steph shrugged. It sometimes worked! Granted, not on Babs. She looked over at Jason, who was cleaning under his nails with a batarang. It was definitely her batarang, specifically her goop-a-rang. She wondered if she should tell him the danger he was in, then decided against it. He was putting a lot of effort into not looking Babs in the eye, after all. She didn’t want to ruin it.

“I can’t believe I have to say this, but guys, you can’t steal from Girl Scouts. Or any other children. Actually, let’s just keep stealing off the table altogether.” Babs looked like she was lecturing wayward children.  

Steph protested, “We were going to give it back!”

Babs raised an eyebrow.

Jason continued to not look anyone in the eye. 

“It was Jason’s idea!” Steph added. “Also, I’m not even sure how it caught on fire? But it was beyond repair. So we replaced it!”

“You could have replaced it with something that wasn’t wildly conspicuous and created headlines I’m having to monitor!” Babs said. Steph got the impression Babs was fighting the urge to stick out her tongue. 

Shift the blame time, then. “Again, Jason’s fault,” Steph said. “His goon needs training.”

Jason mouthed the word goon before saying defensively, “I don’t have goons!” 

“That guy was absolutely a goon.”

“He’s a buddy! He did the best he could!” Jason said, looking as though he couldn’t believe he was defending a goon to them.

Babs took her glasses off and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Leave. Both of you, just…leave. And don’t do this again!”

“We won’t!” Steph promised, and grabbed Jason by the arm to drag him out the door. “Love ya! Bye!”

After all, what are the odds that anything about that scenario would happen again?

Two Months Later:

Steph stared down at the burning remains of the canoe. “Jason, did you do this on purpose?”

“You know I didn’t!” Jason hissed back. “It was Firefly!”

“Babs is going to kill us,” Steph said blankly. “We promised her.”

“So I hear that the Caribbean is nice this time of year,” Jason said. “A few hurricanes, but…”

“Pick an island, I’m there.”

[melsie-sims]

"Our goal for today is to pay off our debt," Alana explained. "Emery's probably gonna manage it with two or three paintings at this point, but we could try and help with some fishing,"

"I don't know how useful I'll be," David admitted, looking doubtfully at the sea. "Last time I tried fishing I didn't catch anything."

"Oh, it'll be better this time, trust me. The weather's way nicer!" Alana assured him.

"If you say so," David chuckled.

As they started to fish quietly side by side, a pop-up appeared at the top left corner of the screen, announcing in a very flashy way that today was Love Day.

"Oh, I didn't even realize..." David muttered.

"We'll have to stay away from the tents today," Alana grinned playfully. "I'm sure Emery and Carmine are gonna be quite busy."

"Or the shower," David dared to reply back, and he was quite proud of himself when he managed to get a laugh out of the mayor. "Hey! I've got a bite!" he shouted suddenly.

[thenovelartist]

Life After Destruction - Chapter 4 - Honkai: Star Rail

<Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter>

Dan Heng was used to Stelle clinging to garbage cans. It was rather tragic that he considered it normal to watch his scavenger of a wife digging through… whatever she could find.

That said, Dan Heng was very unused to Stelle throwing up in said garbage can. The only thing he could do at present was hold her hair out of her face and rub her back.

“Should I go grab water or something?” March asked, looking on with concern.

“Please do,” Dan Heng said.

“I saw a vending machine back there. I’ll be back.” Having been given a mission other than standing around and watching helplessly over her sick friend, March took off.

“I’m fine,” Stelle weakly murmured, finally pushing herself away from the can.

“You are most certainly not,” Dan Heng countered. “Let’s go sit down.”

Stelle didn’t argue as she followed him over to a bench across the street. Once there, she plopped heavily down on the seat.

Dan Heng knelt down before her, pressing his wrist to her forehead to assess her temperature. “You don’t feel warm, but you do look flushed.”

“I don’t know what’s going on,” she muttered, hanging her head in her hands. “I know I wasn’t feeling great at our last stop, either. I might have caught something from the stop before.”

That was true. Stelle had been a little off during their last mission, but she’d pushed through with no problem. With the amount of rest she’d gotten during their intergalactic travel, Dan Heng had honestly thought she’d be fine to go on this mission.

Unfortunately, he’d been wrong.

“I’m back!” March made a prompt reappearance, a water bottle in hand. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Stelle took it with a small smile before taking a few tentative sips from the bottle.

“Are you feeling okay now?” March asked, sitting next to Stelle.

“Mostly?”

“Mostly is good,” March said, trying to be positive but unable to erase all worry from her expression. “Do you think you’ll be okay to continue?”

“I think so. Whatever that sewage smell was just set me off.”

“I think that was food,” March responded, her nose wrinkled in disgust.

Dan Heng would have to agree with the assessment. A greasy, gamey smell did fill the air, courtesy of a food cart they had just passed. However, he had to admit that the line to said cart despite the smell of it was impressive. “As much as I agree that it was an odd smell, I’m concerned for your reaction. Particularly when you have the ability to ignore those kinds of off-putting smells.”

“That’s true,” March agreed. “You’ve dug through things I can’t even get near.”

Stelle chuckled nervously, screwing the lid back on the mostly full bottle.

Which was concerning. “You should drink more,” Dan Heng said.

Stelle shook her head, her brow scrunched in disgust. “My mouth is still watering a little. I’m trying to keep everything down.”

Dan Heng shared a worried glance with March. 

“Hey,” March tentatively started. “Um… It’s not too early to sit this one out if you’re not feeling up to it.”

“I can take it,” Stelle argued. “Just give me a day. Maybe I’ll get over it.”

Dan Heng hummed doubtfully. “And maybe it will take a while longer for you to recover because you’re pushing yourself.”

Although Stelle’s glare proved she didn’t like his assessment, she also didn’t counter it.

Dang it, he didn’t like doing this to Stelle, but her health was more important. “I’m putting you on a three-strikes system. You show signs of sickness, it’s one strike. Three, and I’m personally escorting you back to the Express.”

Defiantly, Stelle held his gaze for a while before she scoffed in surrender. “Fine. That’s probably the best deal I’m getting out of you.”

“Also, that was strike one.”

Stelle rolled her eyes. “Okay, fine.”

He would ignore her attitude for now. “Do you need to wait a moment longer?”

­­­­­“I’m okay.”

With a nod, Dan Heng stood up, offering a hand to her.

She took it, using it to steady herself as she stood. And then didn’t let it go.

Not that there was anything wrong with her holding his hand, but he was concerned with the way she was leaning so heavily on it to steady herself.

March didn’t seem to notice, though. “Just so you know, I’ll be keeping an eye on you, too. Nothing gets past the Great Detective March.”

Stelle smirked. “The Great Detective March has only minorly improved in four years. I’ll take my chances.”

“Mean!”

Dan Heng grinned in amusement. Well, he’d take sassy Stelle over sick Stelle if it meant she was perking back up again.

Unfortunately, it did not last long.

Those next two strikes came quickly, with Stelle dry heaving once more before she almost passed out completely. They were lucky to have found themselves near a clinic.

“You might just be dehydrated,” the doctor said having examined Stelle. “It is dry here, and this fresh heatwave is likely exacerbating your symptoms. I can give you an IV for now while you rest here.”

“I’d rather just go back to the Express,” she said. “I can get water there.”

Dan Heng then held up her water bottle, one that was still half full. “If it isn’t too much of a hassle, I’d rather she have the IV. Considering she can’t seem to keep water down.”

“You always give it to me right after I gag and my stomach’s still queasy.”

“Then drink it now,” he challenged. “And I’ll let it go.”

She took the bottle hesitantly, unscrewing the lid, and taking a sip. Only to purse her lips as though it was a struggle.

The doctor hummed disapprovingly. “I’ll go get a drip and be right back. Last thing I’d want is for a patent of mine to get heat stroke.” With that, he left the room.

Stelle pouted in betrayal.

“Don’t be mad at him,” Dan Heng warned. “If you’re feeling queasy, then you get the treatment you need.”

With a huff, Stelle put the lid back on her bottle. She still had a quarter left, but Dan Heng supposed that was better than before.

“I messaged Mr. Yang about the situation,” March said from her seat in the corner of the room. “He said he can come take over for Stelle.”

“Inform him that I’ll bring Stelle back to the Express and that I’ll stay with her. He and Himeko can take over.”

March gave him a nod. “Okay.”

Stelle spoke up, “But won’t it be a hassle to explain everything to both of them?” 

“Not really,” March dismissed. “We’ve had way more hectic adventures. This one seems pretty straightforward.”

“Furthermore,” Dan Heng continued. “The people here know us and are willing to cooperate. I think this case will get closed quickly once we find where the stellaron is located.”

Dejected, Stelle nodded.

“As much as I hate to say this,” Dan Heng continued. “I think you should sit the next mission out, too. After that, we can reassess.”

“Can’t we just reassess after this mission?”

“If you were just tired, I would say so, but with you throwing up, this marks two consecutive missions where your health has declined.”

At that, Stelle frowned.

Before Dan Heng could respond, the doctor returned, dragging an IV stand along with him. “Alright,” he said, sitting down in the seat next to the examination bed. “Arm out, please.”

Stelle submitted, allowing the doctor to clean off a section of skin before sticking an IV into her arm.

“Alright, that’ll take some time, so enjoy your rest for the time being.”

“Okay.”

At Stelle’s lackluster response, the doctor gave her a sympathetic smile. “You’re a bit of a go-getter, aren’t ya?”

“Her and that one both,” Dan Heng said, motioning to March sitting in the corner.

“Hey!” March cried. “Leave me out of this!”

“March,” Stelle said. “For that, why don’t we leave him behind next mission?”

“That sounds like a great idea. As long as you’re not throwing up.”

Dan Heng smirked. “That’s two against one.”

“Traitor,” she grumbled at March.

“Yeah, like you haven’t done that to me before,” March countered, sticking her tongue out at her.

“Hence, it’s decided,” Dan Heng said. “You’re not going on that mission.”

Stelle pouted. “That’s still to be determined."

“Then you best recover quickly,” Dan Heng said. “And even if you do somehow get past me, you’ll have to get past Welt and Himeko.”

Stelle rolled her eyes.

With a sigh, Dan Heng patted the top of her head. “Sorry,” he said. “But with as many missions as we have lined up after this, we need you to take your time to properly recover.”

“As much as I hate to admit it,” March chimed in, “Dan Heng does have a point. It’s not like there’s going to be a shortage of stellaron crises for you to help out on.”

Beside them, the doctor hummed. “If it will give you a little peace of mind, I can take a bloodwork panel to see if it’s more than just dehydration. It’s the least we can do considering your assistance in getting this awful stellaron off our planet. You might just be a little low on nutrients if you’ve been busy as you say.”

Dan Heng looked to Stelle. “You up for it?”

Stelle just sighed. “I guess I already have to have a needle in my arm. And I’m not exactly going anywhere.”

“Then if you wouldn’t mind,” Dan Heng told the doctor. “We would appreciate it.”

March stood from her seat, clearly getting anxious to move again. “Do you want me to go back to the Express and get Mr. Yang and Himeko up to speed?” March offered.

Dan Heng nodded. “Might as well. Stelle and I will be here a while. I’ll tell you when we’re headed back.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

~~~

As predicted, their mission had finished up quickly. The Astral Express and the Nameless that rode on it had garnered quite a reputation across the galaxy, which helped in getting people to cooperate with them on stellaron missions.

Stellaron missions Stelle had been temporarily banned from.

Why? Oh. Because her bloodwork had come back and incorrectly marked her as “pregnant.”

Knowing it was impossible, Dan Heng had dove into researching what kind of health problems she could possibly have to have been given a false positive. And so, because she had a worrywart of a husband (and best friend and family at large) she’d been taken off the exploration roster until they could get an answer.

Which sucked.

Thankfully, they only had one other mission before they needed to stop at Herta’s Space Station for an inventory restock. And while they were restocking supplies, Dan Heng had dragged her to the med ward for examination.

Stelle was not looking forward to being trapped there again, being poked and prodded and examined. Unfortunately, such was her lot in life.

The first day, they couldn’t find anything, so they drained her blood like a mosquito with the plan of running a more intensive panel than she'd previously been given and getting back to her the next day.

Well, it was the next day, and she was not happy with the results.

“You can be mad at me all you want,” Dan Heng quipped as they made their way back to the med ward. “But don’t be snippy at the doctors. They’re only trying to help.”

“I’m not snippy.”

“Uh-huh.”

Stelle huffed. “It’s just… frustrating.”

“Because they labeled you as pregnant again?”

“Yes! And I know you’re not gonna let up until we find out what’s going on, and neither Welt nor Himeko will clear me to go on missions until then.”

“I understand why you’re frustrated, but Himeko has already decided the Astral Express is not going to leave until we get an answer.”

“That’s worse.” Because here she was, holding up the Astral Express crew again because of her medical issues.

“Then let’s hope they can give you a diagnosis today so you can focus on recovering,” Dan Heng responded.

Stelle groaned, yet still marched along with Dan Heng to the med ward. “They’re probably going to wonder why I want more tests. What do we say when they ask how I know I’m not pregnant? That you’re sterile?”

Dan Heng nodded.

“Hopefully they don’t imply I cheated on you or something.”

“They shouldn’t. They’re professionals.”

“We’ve run into some… interesting people on our travels.”

Dan Heng paused. “Yes, unfortunately,” he agreed with a sigh. “But you know these people. They’re different.”

“If you say so.”

“Stelle, they saved your life. I know you hate it here, but they are only doing their best for you.”

“Don’t give me a stupid guilt trip.”

Upon arriving at the med ward, they were greeted by faces Stelle was a little too familiar with for her liking. Despite hating it here, Stelle would put on a nice face, be polite, and explain why she’d returned. Upon finishing her explanation of the situation, she and Dan Heng were swiftly shown to one of the examination rooms.

They didn’t talk much while they waited, each too on edge to really bother with conversation. But soon enough, a woman pushing a cart entered the room.

“Hey, Stelle,” the doctor greeted, shutting the room door behind her. “Hopefully you didn’t wait too long.”

“Actually, you were really fast today,” Stelle responded. “It seemed empty.”

“It’s what happens when we are fully staffed and the station runs smoothly,” she returned with a grin. She then sat down on the stool next to the examination bed. “So, the first test I wanted to start with is an ultrasound. Before we go on digging any deeper, I’d like to confirm you’re not pregnant or have any anomalies I should be aware of.”

With a sigh, Stelle laid back on the examination bed. “If you must.”

The woman gave her a sympathetic smile as she started up the machine. “If you could lift up your shirt and lower your waistband slightly for me.”

Stelle did as told, exposing her abdomen while the doctor prepared the wand. Dan Heng then took hold of Stelle’s hand, giving it a light squeeze as though to remind her he was always there.

She returned the favor, a hint of guilt bubbling up in her for the way she'd treated him earlier. Ultimately, she knew he didn’t deserve her attitude when he only did this because he cared. She’d apologize to him later.

Soon enough, the doctor was pressing the wand over Stelle’s abdomen, staring intently at a screen Stelle couldn’t see. But when the doctor paused, her brow furrowing, Stelle clung to Dan Heng’s hand tighter out of worry.

The doctor looked over to Dan Heng. “You said you were sterile?” she asked.

“Yes,” he answered hesitantly. “Why?”

She opened her mouth but couldn’t seem to get any words out. “Because,” she finally spoke, turning the screen towards them. “There’s the baby.”

Stelle’s stomach dropped. Baby? What baby?

“See?” The doctor began pointing at the screen. “There’s the head, then here’s the body.”

Faintly, she could feel Dan Heng’s hand tighten on hers, but the world seemed to disappear from around her.

There was a baby.

No… there was no way…

“You look to be about twelve weeks along, give or take.”

“Twelve weeks…” Dan Heng quietly muttered before covering his mouth with his hand.

The doctor nodded, suddenly looking concerned. “I can’t see anything concerning. It looks to be progressing normally. Um…” She turned to Dan Heng. “I know you said you were sterile, but… is there any possibility that’s not the case? Or… uh, should I leave the room for a bit? For you to talk.”

Words seemed to completely fail Stelle. She didn’t even know how to respond to that. This was impossible for her to be pregnant. Dan Heng couldn’t have knocked her up, but the ultrasound didn’t lie. So how…

“No,” Dan Heng shakily spoke, snapping Stelle out of her thoughts. “No, I… It’s fine.” Again, he ran a hand over his mouth, his eyes locked on the screen.

She couldn’t blame him. Her eyes were pretty much stuck there, too.

The doctor gave them a sympathetic smile. “This must come as quite a shock to you both. But I do believe a congratulations is in order.”

Was it? Maybe that was the normal thing to do. Stelle didn’t know, nor could she really process anything at this point.

From there, the rest of the visit was a blur. Absently, Stelle realized the doctor had given her a laundry list of things pregnant women needed to know before handing Stelle two things: a large pamphlet outlining everything she’d just said and pictures of the ultrasound.

With that, she and Dan Heng slowly started making their way back to the Express.

They only made it halfway there before Stelle felt like she might just break down in the currently empty hallway. “I… I need a minute.”

Dan Heng stopped, allowing Stelle to collapse back against a wall for support. She ran her hands down her face, ignoring the papers that were getting crumpled in her hands.

Papers that disappeared as Dan Heng pulled them away. When she looked back up at him, she saw the concern etched into his expression. She swallowed, her hands shaking and stomach churning and head spinning. “I’m pregnant.” Her whispered words were like a confession and realization all at once, hitting harder than a blast from the Anti-matter Legion.

“I… I know,” Dan Heng responded, his voice shaky. “I don’t know how, but…”

Blinking up at him, she could feel the tears welling up in her eyes as she reached to grab his jacket. “I really didn’t cheat on you,” she said.

“I know,” he assured, cradling the back of her head and pulling her forward to rest his forehead against hers. “I know it has to be mine. I just… I don’t understand…”

“I don’t either.”

They stood there for a moment, just leaning on each other for support as they tried to navigate their world now that it had tilted on its head. Her illness, which had prevented her from going on missions, was because a baby was growing inside of her. Which was… better(?) than any of the other illnesses the crew of the Express had thought she could possibly have.

That’s when it struck her. “Dan Heng, how are we going to tell the others?”

Dan Heng stiffened under her touch.

“They know you can’t reproduce. They’ll never believe this.”

“I… I don’t know. We’ll… ugh…” He grimaced. “Let’s… let’s go back to the Express and talk this over. We…” He roughly raked a hand through his hair. “Aeons, you’re really pregnant.”

Mirthlessly, she chuckled, feeling on the brink of losing her mind. “Yeah. I know.”

“I don’t even know how to process this.” With a heavy sigh, he dropped his hand. “Okay, Express. We’ll talk about how to break it to the crew. We’ll have to tell Bailu, too; she’ll want to know. Maybe she can help figure out how—”

He stopped, his eyes suddenly growing wide.

It took Stelle only a little longer to realize why. She was three months along, give or take, which would place it back to… “Bailu’s medicine.”

“There’s no way,” Dan Heng breathed out.

Her heart was racing. “Can you think of any other reason?”

Obviously not considering he sputtered like a fish out of water. “We have to tell Bailu.”

“Like, now.”

~~~

Dan Heng’s head was spinning. Stelle was pregnant, and it was very likely because of the little vidyadhara they were currently calling.

Stelle sat on the opposite side of the little table in their bedroom, anxiously tapping her hands against the table while they waited for the call to go through. Between them sat Dan Heng’s phone, set on speaker.

Finally, the ringer dropped. “Hello? Dan Heng?”

“Uh… hi, Bailu.” His voice wouldn’t steady, but neither would his hands or his heart. After all, Stelle was pregnant with his child, and he was a mess. “Er, Stelle’s here, too.”

“Hey, Bailu,” she greeted, her voice just as shaky as his.

There was a pause on the other end of the line. “Something feels very wrong,” Bailu deadpanned.

Dan Heng took a deep breath, preparing to tell Bailu the news—

“I’m pregnant.”

—Only Stelle beat him to the punch.

“Oh,” Bailu said, her voice light. “Congra—”

And then there was a beat of silence as it hit her.

“Wait, wait, wait! What?! What do you mean pregnant?!”

“She means that despite all odds, she is carrying my child,” Dan Heng answered, his heart doing a weird flip in his chest.

“HOW?” Bailu screeched. “That’s impossible. Vidyadhara can’t reproduce!”

“That’s why we’re calling you,” Dan Heng continued. “Because if we trace back the weeks to conception, it aligns with the time we…” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “Assisted you in testing your fertility medicine.”

The phone went silent.

“So,” Dan Heng continued. “I wanted to inquire about it further. And what you’ve discovered about it in your experiments.”

There was a frantic rustling on the other end. “You don’t think that it actually works for vidyadharas, do you?” she asked, her voice pitched with excitement.

“That’s the only explanation we can think of,” Stelle replied.

“That would be incredible!” Bailu cried, the rustling only growing louder. “I should start up more research and—ack! Don't fall off the table—see if I can collect test subjects to replicate this since it will take some time.”

“I understand if you won’t tell us,” Dan Heng broke in. “But I was curious as to if you’ve had any success helping the intended couple.”

“That’s the thing!” she cried, her voice far off as though she was away from her phone. “I haven’t yet. But I’ve also taken down the aphrodisiac ingredient to a far lower level than what I gave you out of fear it would affect them negatively. I’ve been slowly upping the dose for them seeing as we haven’t had any success. But! Knowing you two had success, however unintended, gives me hope—Ah-HA! Found my notes—I’m on the right track.

“Hey!” she continued, her voice growing loud again as though she was close to the phone’s speaker. “Do you think it will be a full vidyadhara? Not just a mix but able to reincarnate and everything?”

Dan Heng and Stelle shared a look of surprise. That had been the last thing on their mind. “Um,” Stelle started. “We only just found out ourselves, so we didn’t really think much of it—”

“Because that would be incredible!” Bailu excitedly continued. “It would be the first Vidyadhara to ever be born. Can you believe that?!”

Seemingly unable to get a word in edgewise, Stelle chuckled, shaking her head while looking at the phone with a certain fondness. Her reaction to Bailu’s excitement served to relax Dan Heng as well. All of this was too much for words.

“Anyway,” Dan Heng said, trying to get Bailu to focus again. “We just wanted to inform you and see what information we could get.”

“Are you going to come by soon?”

“We don’t know.”

“Because I want to examine Stelle in person. This is the first vidyadhara child in the history of ever, even if it’s technically only a half-blood. I have to record everything!”

Dan Heng could see the awkwardness creep over Stelle’s expression. “We’ll keep you updated,” he spoke for her, knowing that the last thing she wanted right now was more doctor's appointments, even ones given by her friends. “We don’t know the next time we will land on the Luofu.”

“Ugh! How frustrating!” Bailu cried in such a way that Dan Heng could almost see her stamping her foot impatiently. “This is so important! I want to make sure everything goes okay.”

“Thank you, Bailu,” Stelle said. “But I’m sure it will be fine.”

“Oh! Right, I wish you all the health in the galaxy! If you tell me where you’ll be landing next, I’ll try to ship a package of herbs to you.”

“We just stopped at Herta’s Space Station to restock,” Dan Heng answered. “Though I doubt we will linger here long. I’m uncertain where we will end up next.”

“Keep me updated. And I’ll start digging into my research here. The potential of vidyadara offspring is too important to ignore!”

“Just be sure to take care of yourself, too,” Dan Heng gently chastised.

“We’re talking about the future of our clan! Sleep can wait!”

He shook his head, suddenly tired. What was he supposed to do with her?

“Hey, Bailu,” Stelle chimed in. “Don’t send Dan Heng to an early reincarnation worrying over you, okay? I’d like my husband around.”

“Ugh, fine. I just won’t tell him.”

Dan Heng shook his head, Stelle sniggering in the background.

“Alright, we’ll leave you to it,” he said, feeling the call had run its course and anything more would just be draining. He and Stelle still had much to discuss. “Please don’t overdo it.”

“I won’t. I’ll be sure to send my assistant for food.”

“Not just snacks.”

“Ugh, why you gotta worry like that? Snacks are an integral part of keeping one's energy up.”

“We’ll talk to you later,” Stelle said, smiling at the exaggerated expression he was surely wearing at this point. “And don’t worry; we promise to keep you updated under the condition you take care of yourself.”

“Don’t make me lie to you, too,” Bailu grumbled. Then she sighed. “Alright, alright. I promise. Keep me in the loop!”

“Will do. Bye for now.”

“Bye bye!”

Stelle hung up the call. “Are you tired?” she asked Dan Heng.

He gave her a nod. “Very.”

“Well, that’s one person out of the way,” Stelle said. “Now we just have to figure out… everyone else.”

That brought Dan Heng back to reality. “We’ll all gather back here after dinner. I guess we can inform them then. As for how…” He grimaced. “I suppose we’ll just have to confess we were testing something out for Bailu.”

“We could be vague at first,” Stelle suggested. “I don’t really want to admit we were testing an aphrodisiac if we don’t have to.”

Dan Heng couldn’t agree more. He would prefer keeping intimate things about his relationship as private as possible. They were given a room in a different railcar entirely for that reason. “Hopefully, they won’t ask us to elaborate.”

Stelle made a show of crossing her fingers. 

“After they learn that, I suppose they’ll want to put you on rest or hold you back for missions. Particularly when you get further along.”

Her expression fell, which Dan Heng understood. She had been so excited to start up trailblazing again that the prospect of losing that ability was devastating.

“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t want to take away your ability to trailblaze either, but… you’re pregnant, so things will have to change.” 

He let those words sink in, as much for her as for him. Aeons, there was a baby on the way. Never in his life did he so much as imagine he'd have to worry about such a thing, but the impossible was suddenly reality, and the facts were slow to sink in.

“What if they ask us to leave?”

He froze. “What do you mean?”

Stelle frowned, staring at the table as though unable to meet his gaze. “Trailblazing is both hard and dangerous. A pregnant lady would be a useless member. But what about once the baby is born? I’ll have to stay back for… all the time. And then when it comes to traveling, babies are a lot of work. Asking them to live with one is—”

“A lot to ask of them,” Dan Heng finished. The thought hadn’t even crossed Dan Heng’s mind, but now, it wouldn’t leave. They were busy as Nameless, so how would that leave time for caring for a child while also not abandoning their other duties? As much as Dan Heng cared for the other crew members and loved the place he’d made here on the Express, there was a line of what he could ask of them. And this was it.

“I don’t want to leave,” Stelle said, finally looking back up at him. “I know it’s selfish, but this is the only home I’ve ever known.”

“I feel the same,” he reassured, reaching out to take hold of her hands. “But you bring up a good point. They might decide that’s for the best we leave.”

Sadly, Stelle nodded.

His heart hurt and his mind was a mess, but he had the good sense to round the table before pulling Stelle up from her seat so as to embrace her. She clung to him tightly in return. 

“If we have to, we’ll find somewhere to settle,” he told her. “We’ve been to a lot of places, so I’m sure we can find a place we agree on. I’ll find work, we’ll get a place of our own, and we raise our child there. We’ll… we’ll be okay.” 

Stelle sighed, burying her head against his shoulder. “It still doesn’t feel real.”

It didn’t. Fact was they were going to be parents. A baby was on the way and they only had six months to figure everything out. Knowing that felt like facing an ocean wave about to swallow them whole.

So, they could only take one step at a time, and that next step was to inform the crew and let them make a decision. They’d figure out everything else after that.

~~~ 

Stelle felt like she was going to throw up. 

The crew had all had dinner separately, as was common when they arrived at the station and were allowed to all go do their own things—as close as they all were, the time apart was a blessing—but that meant she and Dan Heng would have to wait for the crew to collect back in the Express before they broke the news. 

Usually, Pom-pom was around but not today. Frankly, Stelle had never seen the little conductor leave the Express so it was likely they were up checking the engines or getting some well-deserved sleep. 

Welt was the first to return. “Ah, you’re back,” he commented, approaching them. “Did you happen to get a diagnosis?”

Stelle did her best to smile, but her gut was churning too strongly for it to stay on her face. “Yeah. I did.”

Dan Heng spoke up, saving her from having to continue. “We wanted to wait for everyone to return so we could tell you all at once.”

Welt’s expression fell. “Is it grim?”

Dan Heng grimaced. “It’s not that. It’s… hard to explain.”

“Then you should message the others to come. I know we’ve all been worried about you.”

That only made Stelle feel worse. “Sorry.”

“There’s no need to apologize,” Welt assured. “All we want is for you to recover fully.”

Even though his words were touching, Stelle wondered how they would react when she told them there was no real “recovery” for her condition. “Thanks.”

With Welt’s prompting, they sent a message to March and Himeko, asking them to return so Stelle could properly explain the results. 

Himeko came within a minute after that. “I was already on my way back when I got your message,” she said. “Everything go okay?”

“Yeah,” Stelle said. “It’s just… something I only want to explain once.”

Himeko’s expression fell. “Is it complicated?”

“More or less?” Stelle answered. 

Which didn’t ease Himeko in the slightest. “Is Pom-pom not here?”

“I haven’t seen them.”

“I’ll go get them, maybe bring out some drinks for everyone when I come back. Do you want some coffee?”

While Stelle had looked over the doctor’s packet, particularly the section of foods pregnant women should stay away from, she couldn’t quite remember what drinks were on it. But on the other hand, coffee did not sound good. “Um, maybe tea today.”

“Alright.”

“I can help you while we wait for March,” Welt offered.

“I’d appreciate it.”

Only once they were out of the parlor car did Stelle hang her head in her hands. 

“Are you okay?” Dan Heng asked, rubbing her back. 

“I hate worrying them like this.”

“I hate it, too,” he said. “But it’s more efficient this way. That, and March would have a fit if she was the last one to know.”

“I know,” Stelle said. “I don’t think I would have it in me to explain it to every one of them individually, anyway. This is exhausting enough.”

“It’ll be okay,” he reassured. “Whatever happens, we’ll make it work.”

Stelle leaned her head against his shoulder, to which Dan Heng responded by looping his arm around her waist and holding her. “I know.”

Pom-pom eventually scuttled into the room. “You got the results?”

Sitting up straight again, Stelle nodded. “Yeah. We’re waiting for March to return to explain it.”

“Is it serious?” Pom-pom asked, their ears falling in worry.

“It’s… something.”

“That’s not what I asked!”

Suddenly, the Express’s door opened. “I’m here!” March cried, practically tripping as she ran up to them. “So, what’s going on? It sounded serious.”

“Stelle got her diagnosis,” Welt explained right as he entered the car, carrying a tray of drinks for Himeko who was following behind him. “And she insisted we were all here.”

March’s already nervous expression worsened as she looked at Stelle. “Is it bad?”

Nervously, she wrung her hands together. “It’s something.”

“Enough keeping us in suspense,” Himeko said, beginning to take cups from the tray and set them before everyone. “A two-time misdiagnosis is already worrisome enough. What’s the verdict?”

Silently, Dan Heng gave her a gentle squeeze. 

Taking a deep breath, Stelle forced a smile. “Turns out… it wasn’t a misdiagnosis.”

A shocked silence hung over the room for a moment. 

“Wait,” March spoke, almost spilling her drink as she slammed her mug back down on the table. “So you’re… you’re actually pregnant?”

Awkwardly, Stelle nodded. “Yeah. I am.”

“We know it’s a shock,” Dan Heng said, “since you know vidyadharas cannot reproduce. We believe it has to do with a well-intentioned medicine Bailu gave us. That’s the only thing that has changed.”

After a moment longer, Himeko was the first to respond. “And here we thought it was serious,” she lightly scolded, smiling all the while. “But that’s wonderful news.”

“Yeah!” March jumped in, almost knocking over her mug as she threw herself at Stelle in a hug. “Did you know how worried we were?”

“Sorry,” Stelle muttered, returning the awkward hug. “We didn’t really know how to process it ourselves.”

“I’m certain,” Welt reassured. “It must have come as quite a surprise. But, I’m very happy for the two of you.”

“Yes,” Himeko agreed. “Congratulations.”

“What a joyous day!” Pom-pom finally added, their bright smile serving to lighten the atmosphere. “Another trailblazer has been added to our ranks.”

“We can call them the ‘Tiny Trailblazer’,” March suggested, finally letting go of Stelle only to plop down beside her.

Despite the quiet laughter, Stelle’s stomach tightened. “Actually, um… there’s one more thing we want to talk about.”

Dan Heng cleared his throat, calling everyone’s attention to him. “With this revelation, we realize that this will change… everything. Stelle’s pregnancy and raising a child will require a lot of our time and attention. Furthermore, it will force the rest of you to pick up tasks we cannot take on due to the child. Trailblazing is a time-consuming and dangerous job, and while we love it, we have both agreed we cannot ask you to work around us if you believe it would be a burden or hindrance to the functionality of the Express. Hence, we wanted to be the first to bring this suggestion to the table: if you believe it would be best for us to leave, we will do so.”

“We don’t want to,” Stelle added, unable to stand the somber expressions that had overtaken the joy on her closest friends' faces. “We love being here on the Express. And we want to help with cleaning up the stellarons. But… we don’t want to force you all to work your lives around the fact I’m having a baby.”

“We wouldn’t mind.”

Himeko’s quick response was a bit of a surprise. 

Her smile was a reassuring one. “At least, I wouldn’t. While it would slow us down a little, I would rather rearrange everything to work around you two and the baby rather than have you two leave altogether. Worst case scenario I foresee is Dan Heng and Stelle always stay behind with the Express to watch it, leaving three of us to go handle the stellaron. Even with the baby, having you two around would still be preferable to you leaving.”

“I am in agreement,” Welt said. “But, I feel it is in everyone’s best interest I play devil’s advocate for a moment. You’re right: the Express does travel everywhere, and safety is not guaranteed. The life we live is one full of adventure and chaos. Before we persuade you to stay, consider if you two are willing to raise a child in this ever-changing and sometimes turbulent environment rather than settling down somewhere to give the child more stability.”

His words gave Stelle pause. Yes, she didn’t want to leave, but was that really what was best for her child? She bit her lip nervously as she stared at the floor.

“Sorry,” Welt spoke. “Above all personal feelings, I want you to make an informed decision.”

“No, we understand,” Dan Heng replied. “You bring up a good point we haven’t been able to think about yet. This revelation as a whole has been a little overwhelming.”

“Then let’s not talk about sad things anymore!” March cut in. “We should just be excited for the baby, yeah? I mean, you’ve got time to decide all that, right?”

Stelle grasped at March’s desperate attempt to change the mood. “Er, yeah?”

“Do you know how far along you are?” Himeko asked.

“Twelve weeks.”

“You’re three months already?”

Nervously, Stelle chuckled. “Apparently? Give or take.”

“Then you’ve got about six months before the baby arrives. You still have a little time to process things. And if you change your mind as you progress, we’ll help you in whatever way we can.”

“Furthermore,” Welt said. “If you do decide to stay only to change your mind down the road, we will help you then, as well. Ultimately, we want what is best for you and are more than happy to help you in whatever capacity we can.”

“Even if you leave, you’ll still be part of the Nameless,” March said. “At least, I think so.”

Her words warmed Stelle’s heart, and she felt her eyes begin to water a bit. “Thanks, everyone.” It seemed everything really would be okay. And for the first time all day, Stelle felt the knot in her stomach loosen up, enough that she could properly enjoy her drink.

She lifted it halfway to her lips—

Er… maybe not.

[theluckywizard]

In the Shattering of Things, Ch. 59: Tangled**

Chapter Summary: Rose contends with the aftermath and consequences of her night with Hawke while forging ahead trying to access the rift underneath the lake.

Fic Summary: Lady Rose Trevelyan's idle, aristocratic life blinks out in a haze of irrelevance when the breach destroys the Conclave. She may be soft and coddled when she joins the Inquisition, but there's a fierceness inside her she's yet to fully recognize. Armed with only a few relevant skills and the mark that makes her a legend, she is thrust onto a path delivering hope where it’s long been scorched away and finds comfort in the grumpy, handsome stick in the mud charged with her protection and training. As she stumbles her way across southern Thedas, she begins to realize she's tangled at the center of machinations she barely understands, and she's not alone in that. Enter Hawke. Excerpt below cut ⏬

I distract myself momentarily, flipping open the lid of my pen box and retrieve my locket. I pop it open and pinch the little coin between my thumb and forefinger. It feels like it’s been an age since I first held it in my hand. And it feels nearly as long since the meaning it once held was tarnished.

I gather up the pieces of all my ridiculous hopes. The ones I never let go of, the ones Hawke of all people had offered this morning, wishes patched up with his confident, clumsy assurances. Maybe it just wasn’t the right moment for Cullen and I. Maybe I’ll return to Skyhold and get another chance.

“I thought you would be in the tower,” says Cassandra. I nearly spit out my mouthful of tea then slowly turn to look at her. She doesn’t look up, seemingly absorbed in her reading. I put the locket away again.

“I— will be staying in our usual tent,” I tell her.

“Oh, I heard that you stayed there last night,” she remarked, her expression mildly entertained try as she might to hide it.

Maker, does she know? Varric seemed keenly aware.

“I— yes.” 

“When you did not come to turn in, I thought I would check with the scouts about your whereabouts. I was told you had gone to the keep tower with the Champion,” she says in her usual flat tone. “I did not mean to pry.”

I feel the heat of a murderous blush race across my cheeks. Somehow I doubt her lack of interest.

“Didn’t mean to pry?” I ask her, forcing a skeptical smile through my mortification. “You could just ask, Cassandra.”

“I— am sure you had work to discuss,” she says, nodding with a perfectly straight face that moments later dissolves into a ridiculous pink-cheeked smirk. I bury my smile in my hands and then lose myself in a peal of tenacious laughter. The absurdity of it surges forth again.

“Yes. Work,” I laugh. “We were— planning.”

After a prolonged pause she continues. “I— hope it was a good planning session.” She peers up at me from her sixth reread of the last issue of Swords and Shields with a raised brow and then hides her amusement behind the well worn volume. 

Well, I can’t leave her entirely in the dark. 

“It was an exceptional planning session.”

“But you do not need to plan again tonight,” she confirms. 

“I— think just the one night of planning should suffice.”

Cassandra eyes me doubtfully while I sip my tea.

“But you said it was exceptional,” she protests. 

It was . I don’t have an answer for her. Even now I catch myself gazing across the upper bailey from inside our tent, searching for him, his whereabouts interesting me more than I care to admit.

If everyone knows, they certainly aren’t teasing me about it, which leads me to doubt the gossip had spread thoroughly through the ranks. Maker knows that Bull and Sera would have had a smart remark. And Dorian would have cornered me on the matter first thing.

I stand to stretch my back and walk to the tent entrance, gazing across the keep through the drizzle. An orange glow flickers in the tower windows. I squint like it’s a mirage, and then laugh because it’s real.

Read the Rest Here

Start the Fic Here

DAFF Tag List

@warpedlegacy | @rakshadow | @rosella-writes | @effelants | @bluewren | @breninarthur | @ar-lath-ma-cully | @dreadfutures | @ir0n-angel | @inquisimer | @crackinglamb | @nirikeehan | @oxygenforthewicked | @mogwaei | @exalted-dawn-drabbles | @melisusthewee | @blarrghe | @agentkatie

[seiya-starsniper]

More filth for @staroftheendless and their smurch challenge

Day 6 - “I can wait.” | Lube | Licking 

When he really thinks about it, Hob’s pretty sure all his problems come back to strawberry lube.

It’s the only explanation he can give for why he’s tenting his pants after having tried his colleague’s homemade strawberry cheesecake.

To be fair, the cheesecake is, in fact, absolutely delightful. It’s just. Just.

The taste of strawberries also reminds him of the taste of Dream’s cock. Of his hole. A hole Hob had spent the morning licking tirelessly into until -

“Rob? Are you all right?”

Hob blinks. Licks his lips. Reboots his brain.

“Ah, sorry. Yes, I’m quite okay, just, uh, this is really good cheesecake!” Hob laughs. He tries to think of his pile of papers to grade, of the moldy cheese he found in the fridge yesterday, anything to make this erection go away. Thank God he’s sitting down.

“Really? I wasn’t sure, you’ve only had a few bites…” his colleague replies, staring doubtfully at his half eaten slice.

“Positive. Just had a big lunch, is all. I’ll save the rest for later.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I can wait. Actually, do you mind if I take a second slice for my husband?”

[adiduck]

👀

You got it, friend! Continuing where the last snip left off!

-

Maverick turned back to Bradley. “Okay he’s gone,” he said. “Get me out of here.”

Bradley squinted at him doubtfully. “We can go to the backyard,” he repeated.

Maverick did his best to slump dramatically while in a back and shoulder brace. “Are you kidding me? Really? I can sit in a car, too!”

“Mav, you fractured your spine,” Bradley pointed out. “I think you should listen to the medical professionals about this.”

Maverick sighed. He did know that, and really, he even agreed when he wasn’t going stir crazy.

“Besides,” Bradley said tentatively. “I was hoping that today we could… talk?”

[snow-system-wol]

Finally following up on that confession -- after returning home from that meeting with Fandaniel, G'raha catches a chance to speak with S'ria about that accidental "I love you" incident. (It is unfortunate that they are both bringing the thought "he should not choose someone like me" to the conversation.)

Ao3

(warning: S'ria lashes out and the dialogue does briefly become more nsfw for that bit.)

"You're avoiding me." It wasn't said in an accusatory way, just factual.

S'ria whipped his head around and, of course, there was G'raha in the hallway behind him. There was still plenty of space for S'ria to leave, if he needed, and that made things easier.

"Oh... I'm sorry, I think I have been." He wasn't sure if it was a conscious choice or not.

G'raha sighed. "I would take the words back if I could, if I have made you uncomfortable, but that is unfortunately impossible."

"No, it's not… I'm just being a bit of an ass about that, if I'm quite honest. Can we talk in my room instead of the middle of the hallway?"

G'raha relaxed a bit. If S'ria was okay with letting him into his quarters, things must not be as weird as he had first thought.

That thought was somewhat short-lived, as it was still immediately weird. Once they were in S'ria's room, they'd ended up just staring at each other silently for at least a minute. Gods, one of them needed to say something before this stretched on any longer, or he was going to actually lose his mind. He'd thought that burden would fall to him, but, surprisingly, S'ria spoke first.

"It's… confusing but nice, that you feel like that about me – I'm not upset about it."

"Full glad am I to hear that, but forgive me if this is too blunt – what has this last week been about, then?" G'raha looked briefly mortified. "Please tell me I didn't incorrectly assume that this was about me."

"No, it's related at least." S'ria sat down heavily onto his bed, leaving G'raha fidgeting awkwardly by the door. "Please sit down or something."

G'raha spared a nervous glance at the conspicuous empty space left on S'ria's bed and instead lowered himself into the chair by his desk. Probably for the best. 

S'ria continued without need for prompting. "I think the thing I've been worrying over is not your feelings themselves, but rather – what outcome would you be expecting in response to that confession?"

"Truly, it was not my intent to blurt that out – but it was also good to be honest with you." G'raha continued, tentatively. "Not to be presumptuous – if there was any chance you felt the same way –o-of course, there is no pressure, but... I'd hope we could see if it goes anywhere."

Several emotions flashed across S'ria's face, conflicting and difficult to parse – excitement, grief, fear, confusion – before settling on something dull and defeated. He laughed bitterly.

"Exactly how long would that last? How much would you give up on just to have the barest minimum of a relationship with me? There are things one would typically expect in a romantic partner, and I don't think those are things I can provide."

"I'd gladly accept whatever you can give, and have no need of anything you can not." 

S'ria looked unimpressed at the perfectly selfless answer, and regarded him doubtfully. "No need, huh? So you wouldn't want to fuck me if we were together, if you could?" 

G'raha's face, never very good at hiding his emotions, showed an immediate mix of shock, embarrassment, and frustration. He'd nearly forgotten how blunt S'ria could be, especially while in a less than stable place.

"S'ria." It came out sounding nearly scandalized. "I do not know how to answer that question. 'Yes' and 'No' sound like equally bad responses."

S'ria crossed his arms stubbornly. "Well, to be fair – I'm asking you to answer a question, not to figure out what answer I'd want to hear."

"Must I give you a direct response? I am attracted to you, and you may infer from that."

He displayed a surprising lack of any emotional response to that confirmation. "...I see. And you're saying you'd want to enter a committed relationship with the understanding that you'd likely never have that from me?"

"Considering I went a century without anything of the sort, I hardly think it would kill me, no."

"I wasn't thinking it'd kill you, I just–", S'ria trailed off, fidgeting. "You'd resent me for it. Someday, inevitably, you'd grow tired of not being able to fix me – and it just wouldn't be enough anymore." He paused before adding, quieter, "…I'd much rather keep our friendship than have you end up hating me. What we have now is important to me."

G'raha slid out of his chair and took one of S'ria's hands in his, telegraphing the movement as clearly as he could in advance. "No. My love for you need not be greedy. I am simply asking for your continued presence and support in my life and anything beyond that is a gift." Seeing S'ria start to open his mouth with a frown, he quickly added on, "and we could talk about it, if something like that ever truly became a problem."

"...Oh," S'ria responded with no readable tone. "I suppose we could, yes. Talk about it."

G'raha seemed to realize something and politely let go of S'ria's hand. "Ah, despite this interesting conversation of hypotheticals, you haven't – you've stated reasons why I should not be interested in you, but have not said anything of what you may want for yourself. I would understand if you... would not choose me."

S'ria blinked. "Oh. I forgot that was a necessary part of this conversation. That does matter, doesn't it?"

For certainly not the first time this week alone, G'raha entertained the thought of going back in time just to murder an already dead man. "Yes, I consider your opinion extremely important on this matter."

"...to be honest, I don't know. The idea is scary, but it's not – it's not that I don't want to. I think a proper relationship sounds… tentatively appealing, and I do care about you. A lot. I just, I'm not sure what love is supposed to feel like or if I have ever felt it before? But–"

"Please don't force yourself into something you aren't certain about."

S'ria's tail bristled a bit. "Hold on, let me finish. But I'm not going to understand my feelings on this if I just sit here and do nothing with them. I do not know what I'm doing or what I feel, but I do know that I want to try. Is that enough?"

"As long as you tell me if it makes you unhappy, then yes, that is enough."

"Then that's my answer, if it's acceptable. Oh, but, what… what does this change right now, precisely, with the restrictions that have been brought up?"

G'raha paused to think. "Aside from ideally trying to communicate a little – or a lot – better with each other, it need not change much at all. You are welcome to be affectionate in whatever way is comfortable for you, but I would hardly have had a problem with that prior to this conversation too."

"That sounds nice, actually. However–". S'ria grimaced. "That's… this conversation was entirely too stressful if that's all that'd be different."

"Well...yes. I suppose it has been. But I'd hardly have wanted to be on a different page than you about what we were."

"I am sorry for the way I chose to go about this."

"No, 'tis not –." There was still a lingering redness to G'raha's face. "I shall not deny that the way you chose to phrase that was, a bit, er... But I understood your concerns."

S'ria finally seemed to have relaxed. He looked deep in thought for several moments before his ears perked up. "Oh, I have thought of something else that might change." 

"If we're partners, does that mean I get to hear your singing voice again, Raha?" S'ria looked equal parts mischievous and genuinely excited at the idea. And oh, trust him to make that the first thing he thought of. G'raha had let his inhibitions slip maybe a little too far with the help of wine, once, and everyone seemed determined to wrangle a repeat performance.

"Pray tell, share?"

Gods, he couldn't even fully process the embarrassment of that being brought back up, face flushing immediately, before his mind caught up to "Raha" and got stuck there.

G'raha had also just properly realized that the conversation had, beyond his expectations, ended up at 'sure, let's try'. Best of all, S'ria looked happy about that conclusion.

G'raha got the feeling that he'd somehow end up even more flustered by the Warrior of Light than he'd been before this change, though he wouldn't really expect it any other way.

[aizawasnumberonefan]

Field Trip

Ukai Keishin x reader

1,154 words

cw: alcohol

You aren’t sure who approved of this idea. Your wonderful fiancé, Keishin Ukai, had had a dream that he took his volleyball team on a field trip to camp in the nearby mountains and they had gone on to win nationals, so he did everything in his power to make this field trip happen. You’d shot down the idea of tents, instead finding a cabin to rent from a summer camp that wasn’t currently operating. The school somehow agreed to fund this, no doubt because of Takeda’s persistent begging.

This is how you found yourself, Ukai, and Takeda packing away luggage into the back of a bus while Karasuno’s entire men’s volleyball team piled inside. You love the team and you love the side of Ukai that they bring out, but this was not the way you wanted to spend your weekend. They’re lovely boys, and insanely talented on the court, so you suppose that this could’ve gone worse. However, after an hour and a half of driving, you begin to doubt that fact.

Somehow, a group of the boys had convinced themselves that there would be bears on the route that you were taking, and that there were imminent bears around every corner. You were sitting up front with Keishin, so you weren’t witnessing the unfolding chaos, but you heard “BEARS! BEARS! BEARS! BEARS! BEARS!” from voices that belonged to Nishinoya, Hinata, and Tanaka, and “Shut the fuck up there are no bears on the highway” from a voice that sounded like Tsukishima’s.

“No swearing in earshot of your coach!” Keishin yells to the back of the bus from the driver’s seat, effectively diffusing the conversation into several different, significantly quieter ones.

“You know that I love you, right?” You turn to Ukai.

“It’d be awkward if you agreed to marry me and you didn’t.” He confirms.

“What the actual fuck made you think that this wouldn’t go chaotically?”

“Hey! They swore!” You hear from one of the kids behind you.

“If I ask you to marry me you’re allowed to swear!” Ukai shouts back.

“Good comeback.” You chuckle.

“Shut up. You’re the dumbass that agreed to a life with me.” He says, a smile creeping across his lips.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t make me regret it.” You smile.

At the cabin, you and Takeda begin building a fire for smores while Ukai wrangles the team.

“You make him really happy, you know.” Takeda says, piling more wood into the fire pit.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. He’s more gentle with the team since he proposed.”

You snort, finding this funny. “This is gentle?”

“More gentle. And he’s more driven.”

“That’s my Kei. Stubborn as a bull and endlessly driven. Did you know he asked me to marry him on our first date?”

“He what?”

“Yeah. It was a picnic, we had already been out there for hours, just talking about everything under the sun. It was stupid, but we had met for lunch and as the sun was starting to go down, I told him how it felt like I could talk to him forever and still enjoy every word. He asked me to talk to him forever then. I got confused, so I asked what he meant. He told me to marry him. I must’ve looked at him for a second too long because he burst out laughing and told me he was joking around. I don’t know if he remembers it, but I know that was when I decided I’d say yes if he ever asked again. And I did. He’s purpose driven in everything. No surprise that he wanted to give this a try.”

Takeda sits in one of the many lawn chairs surrounding your now large pile of wood. You ignite the starter pieces and sit beside him as the flames slowly swallow the rest of your gatherings.

“I’m glad it’s you.” Takeda says.

“What do you mean?”

“You can handle him. It’s abundantly clear that he feels safe, comfortable, and confident with you by his side. You’re so good for him.”

You smile letting the warmth from the fire wash across your face. “Thank you.”

After the boys had had their smores and were dutifully in bed, though doubtfully asleep, you, Ukai, and Takeda sat by the fire sipping beers that Ukai had stashed in his suitcase.

“I thought that that was too big for one weekend.” You say, leaning your head against his chest. The two of you were under a blanket in one of the wooden deck chairs with you across Keishin’s lap, legs swung over the arm of the chair. He has his arms wrapped around you, one hand rubbing your back absentmindedly while the other held his beer.

There’s a crash from inside, accompanied by what sounds like shouts mixed with laughter. “On it.” Takeda says, standing up from his spot and heading into the cabin.

“Thank you.” Keishin says to Takeda, then repeats more softly to you.

“For what?”

“For being here. For supporting me. For being mine. For being you.”

“Thank you.

“For what?”

“For letting me.”

He smiles and kisses your head, switching his beer to his other hand so he can tilt your chin up, proceeding to kiss your forehead, nose, and then lips. Admittedly, the two of you get a little more carried away in your kiss than you should’ve when you’re just outside a cabin filled with teenage boys, as evidenced by the childish giggling followed by Takeda’s voice ushering the guilty parties back to their bunks.

“I guess it’s time for bed?” You offer.

“Not yet. Stay with me a little longer.” Keishin replies, kissing you sweetly again. When he pulls back you lean your head back against his chest. When the fire has gone out and you started to shiver, one of the third years on the team had brought you a blanket. When they went inside and you were still chilly, your fiancé beckoned you to sit in his lap instead. His warmth felt so comfy that you’d hardly noticed Ukai telling Takeda where to find his beer stash, and you hardly noticed Takeda leave. Now, the warmth and comfort that your lover brings is lending itself to how sleepy you are. It doesn’t help that Ukai has resumed rubbing your back. It isn’t long until you’re peacefully starting to doze off against his chest while he looks up at the clear sky and stars overhead. As he starts speaking, the rumble of his voice is just enough to stir you awake to hear what he has to say.

“I do remember. I meant it then too, on our first date. I knew it was you. I knew it would always be you. There’s never been any question. I love you now, I loved you then, and I’ll continue to love you until my very last breath. You’re everything I could ever dream of. You’re everything I need.”

[gaytothemaximum]

we all fall down- part two

"Yeah," Alex said, rolling her eyes. "Really. Now what do you want to talk about?"

Magnus seemed to relax a little at her response. "Well, I was thinking... you know how they're tearing down that old theater by the mall?" He gestured vaguely in the direction of the theater, which was indeed set to be demolished in a few weeks. "I've always loved that place. I used to go there with my mom when I was little, and she'd take me to see all these old movies. It's where I really fell in love with film."

Alex raised an eyebrow. "Why? It's just an old building."

"No, it's not," Magnus insisted. "It's got history, you know? And I think it's a shame that they're just going to tear it down and put up another stupid shopping center. I mean, what's the point of that?"

Alex shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe because people like shopping?"

Magnus laughed, but it was a humorless sound. "Well, I guess we can't win them all." He paused, then smiled at her. "So, what about you? What do you like to do?"

Alex considered the question. She'd never really thought about it before. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I guess I just... I like to draw, and I do pottery.”

Magnus nodded, seeming genuinely interested. "That's cool. Do you show your stuff anywhere? Like, enter it in contests or anything?"

Alex shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I guess I've entered some stuff in school contests, but they're not like big deals or anything." She glanced around again, feeling self-conscious about their conversation. "Why? You interested in seeing my art?"

Magnus smiled. "Sure, why not? I'd love to see it. I mean, it's not like I'm going to steal it or anything," he added with a nervous laugh. "I'm not some kind of art thief."

Alex couldn't help but laugh at that. "Alright, well... I guess I could show you sometime. But you're not going to judge me or anything, okay?"

Magnus raised his hands in surrender. "Of course not! I'm not a critic or anything. I'm just a guy who likes art, that's all." He paused, then asked, "So, what do you want to do after high school?"

Alex thought about it for a moment. "I'm not really sure. I've thought about going to art school, but I don't know if I want to leave this town. I mean, what would I do here?"

"Well, you could always start your own business," Magnus suggested. "You know, open up a studio or something. There's got to be people around here who'd appreciate your talent."

"Maybe," Alex said doubtfully. "But I don't know if I'm ready to take that kind of risk." They lapsed into silence for a moment, watching as a group of kids danced past them, their faces flushed with excitement and laughter.

"Hey," Magnus said, nudging her with his elbow. "Want to dance?"

Alex looked at him, surprised. "What? No way. You're kidding, right?"

"Nope," he said, grinning. "I'm totally serious. Come on, it'll be fun." He held out his hand, a tentative expression on his face.

Alex hesitated for a moment, then reluctantly took his hand. As the music started, they began to dance, slowly at first, but gaining confidence as they moved. The others around them seemed to fade away, and it was just the two of them, swaying to the music.

"So," Magnus said, his voice barely above a whisper, "tell me more about this pottery thing."

Alex laughed, her cheeks flushed from the dancing and the closeness of him. "Well, I mean, it's just something I've always enjoyed doing. I like taking clay and shaping it into something new, you know? It's... therapeutic, I guess."

He nodded, his eyes never leaving hers as they continued to sway together. "I can see that. It's sort of like sculpting, isn't it?"

"I guess so," she replied, her voice matching his soft tone. "But pottery is more about function, I think. About making something useful, something people can use in their everyday lives." She paused, then added, "Kind of like how music can make people feel something, or how a good story can take you away from reality for a while."

Magnus smiled, his gaze still locked on hers. "I never thought about it that way. You're right, though. Art can be so many different things to different people. It's amazing how one piece of work can mean something completely different to someone else than it does to you."

They danced in silence for a moment, lost in their own thoughts, their bodies moving in perfect harmony with the music. Around them, the party continued to swirl, the music growing louder and more intense as the night wore on. But for these few moments, it was just the two of them, sharing something special in a world that often seemed to care little about either of them.

"Hey," Magnus said, breaking the silence, "want to go somewhere quieter for a bit? Maybe get some punch or something?" He offered her his hand, his expression a mix of nervousness and hope.

Alex considered his request for a moment, weighing the desire to be alone with him against her fear of what people might think. But something in his eyes, the way he was looking at her, made her want to take the chance. "Okay," she said finally, placing her hand in his. "Lead the way."

They threaded their way through the crowd, navigating the sea of bodies with practiced ease. After what seemed like an eternity, they finally found a quieter corner of the room, near a table laden with food and drink. Magnus handed her a cup of punch, and they stood there, sipping in silence for a moment, taking in the warmth of the liquid and the closeness of each other.

"So," Magnus said, clearing his throat, "tell me more about this pottery thing."

Alex laughed softly. "Well, I've been doing it for a while now. My family owns Fierro Cermaics,” Her face fell a little, “But it’s not like it used to be. They make it for the sales. That’s all they care about.” She grit her teeth.

Alex had a flash of a vivid memory. She had just gotten done with a piece, and her father saw it. “Trash!” He threw the pottery on the ground, “That’s all it’ll ever be!”

“Alex?” Alex saw Magnus snap his fingers in front of her. She allowed herself to pull away from the memory and focus on him.

"Sorry, what did you say?"

Magnus smiled gently. "I was just asking if you'd ever considered showing your pottery to people, maybe selling it or something? You're really talented, you know. It'd be a shame not to share that with the world."

Alex looked away, her cheeks flushing. "Thanks, but I don't know. My family doesn't really support me, and I'm not sure I could do it on my own." She took another sip of her punch, the liquid burning its way down her throat. "Besides, what would people think?”

Magnus frowned, the expression making him look older than his years. "Well, I think that's kind of the beauty of it. You don't have to be like everyone else. You can be whoever you want to be, and do whatever you want to do. If people don't understand that, or if they don't support you, then that's their problem, not yours." He paused, then added, "I mean, I'm not the most popular guy in school, either. I could understand if you wanted some company, you know? Someone who gets what it's like to feel a little different."

Alex looked up at him, surprised by his words. There was an intensity in his eyes that she hadn't seen before, and it made her feel both uncomfortable and strangely comforted at the same time. "I..." she began, but didn't know what to say.

"Look," Magnus continued, "if you ever want to talk about it, or if you want someone to help you figure out what to do...I mean, I'm here. You can always come to me, okay?" He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was softer, almost pleading. "Please?"

Alex looked into his eyes and saw something there she hadn't expected to find: a genuine care and concern for her wellbeing. She felt herself wanting to believe him, to trust that he would really be there for her. But at the same time, she was scared. Scared of what might happen if she let herself get too close.

"Okay," she said finally, her voice barely a whisper. "Thank you."

They stood there in silence for a moment, the music and laughter around them fading into the background as they focused on each other. Alex couldn't help but feel a strange sense of comfort in his presence, like she could finally breathe again after holding her breath for far too long.

Magnus smiled, seeming to sense her unease. "Hey, it's okay," he said gently. "We don't have to talk about anything if you don't want to. We can just enjoy the party, you know?"

They turned their attention back to the party, but Alex couldn't help feeling a sense of relief at having someone to talk to, someone who understood what it was like to feel different. As they moved through the crowd, Magnus introduced her to several of his friends, all of whom seemed genuinely nice and welcoming.

Later, as the night wore on, they found themselves on the dance floor, moving together to the rhythm of the music. Alex was surprised at how well Magnus danced, his body moving fluidly and confidently against hers. She felt a thrill course through her as they swayed together, the music and the movement making her forget all about her worries and her fears.

When the song ended, they paused for a moment, breathless and flushed from the dance. Magnus met her eyes and smiled, his face barely inches from hers. "You know," he said softly, "I think you're right. It's better to just be who you are, and do what you love. People can be so narrow-minded, they miss out on the best things in life."

Alex felt a shiver run down her spine as he spoke. She didn't know what it was about him that made her feel this way, but she knew she wanted to spend more time with him. Maybe, just maybe, he was right. Maybe she could find a way to be true to herself and still have someone by her side.

As they continued to move through the party, hand in hand, Alex began to feel a sense of hope and possibility she hadn't experienced in a long time. Maybe, just maybe, things were about to change for her. Maybe she was finally on the verge of something wonderful.

[magioftheseas]

Pink to Red

Summary: Hinata meets an Ultimate that desperately needs his help. And one that desperately wants him to prove himself.

Rating: T+

Warnings: Graphic gore, notably eye trauma. Manipulation. Yep.

Notes: This is an old WIP I finished up and finally posted for Komaeda Day! Iiiiit’s like a prelude to a Mastermind Komaeda AU. That’s fun, I think. Putting under a read more because it starts rough lol.

***Alternate Ao3 Link*** Commission? Donate?

It starts because Hinata doesn’t think he’s ever seen anyone so bruised—so battered and fragile that his heart picks up and lodges itself in his throat as he tentatively reaches out, and gingerly gathers the beaten body into his arms to take to the nurse. Said body isn’t even conscious, and he’s almost terrified that each rustle he hears is really the shifting of broken, shattered bones, and what he’s handling is cracking glass, ready to fall apart any moment in his hold and slice through him, leaving his blood to pool on the already darkening stains across the tiles. But all the same, Hinata walks, careful and wary, and that head lolls against his chest, and perhaps, it’s his pounding pulse that wakes the other, even though Hinata doesn’t initially notice those seemingly swollen shut eyes twitching before slowly opening to reveal darkened pools of silver.

He does groan, but Hinata doesn’t stop for a second. It’s only when he gets to the nurse, and hands him over for treatment, that he really looks at the other boy past his injuries. How confused he seems to be, and lost, looking around drearily and dazedly with his blank gaze where, to Hinata’s further horror, one of the eyes was red where it was supposed to be white, the silver standing out starkly despite its bloated, purpling surroundings and lid. He nearly choked, unable to focus on the fretting nurse asking what had happened.

But that boy looks at Hinata, stilling him and sickening him with pity and disgust for whoever did this, and then that boy smiles brightly at him—and it’s really something, spreading across the cut, bloodied lips and lighting up that pale, pulverized face to the point where had it been any other situation in any other untouched state, it would have left anyone who saw it breathless.

It’s only later that Hinata sees the badge etched on his uniform, and he realizes that this boy is from the main section of HPA—an elusive elite that before now, he had only ever admired and envied from a distance. And...god, how could he have ever expected this would be how he met one face-to-face?

There’s something exceptionally cruel about this situation, and there’s something especially crueler that it’s because of this that the first words an elite says to him directly end up being heartrendingly sincere, “Thank you.”

--

He stays as the other is bandaged. The first thing he learns is that for his injuries and supposedly fragility, this elite student is compliant without complaint, and the most he gets from the other as a sign that he’s indeed in pain is a brief flinch when the nurse disinfects and dresses those wounds just a touch too hard. It’s impressive, Hinata thinks, admirable—but a part of him only feels worse as the pedestal that this elite calmly sits on seems to tower higher and higher.

“You’re set,” the nurse declares cheerily, even as Hinata stares mournfully, doubtfully, at the other, at where the bandages almost wrap around the lengths of his arms, and how his face was handled as well—half of it almost covered by patches and band-aids, including that reddened eye.  Those bruises were still painfully visible and blatant—that pallor provided so much contrast... “Promise to take it easy, okay? Hinata-kun, it really was wonderful of you to bring him in. I’ll see to it that whoever did this is reported—to think your classmates would harm an elite student...”

Hinata just swallows and nods in response, and though the knowledge that whoever did this is likely to face serious, serious punishment isn’t all that comforting, he accepts all the same. The nurse turns away from them, off to handle this or return to her work, he isn’t wholly sure and it doesn’t really matter for now.

He needed to head back too. He vaguely glances in the other’s direction, stiffly muttering that the other really should rest or something, and just as he’s turned away, he’s stopped by a thin delicate hand wrapping around his wrist loosely but feeling like a vice in how Hinata froze with shock. He could barely meet the elite’s gaze—that one mostly good eye of his intently searching him before he could have sworn a spark flickered across that gray, and he stilled him utterly with another smile.

“Hinata-kun, was it?” That voice was soft and unassuming, but Hinata felt it seep into his very being. “It’s very nice to meet you. I’m...”

--

Komaeda. Komaeda Nagito. It’s not a terribly plain one like his own, and it matches its reedy, serene owner well, even covered in injuries for the while that follows. It also matches in a very peculiar...strangeness.

As an elite student, Hinata should not be seeing Komaeda in the reserve course as often as he does. He should not encounter Komaeda as often as he does when they don’t share the same department and that metaphorical river rages on between main students and reserve students, too treacherous to swim across though many uselessly try all the same, Hinata included. But Komaeda doesn’t even seem affected by this dissonance—seems to act like it doesn’t matter to him.

And really, why should it? It’s easy to pretend you don’t have privileges. It’s easy to overlook the struggling of those under you—just crush the straggling bottom-dwellers under your feet and don’t miss a beat. And that’s just—

...A cruel way to think. And presumptuous. For all Hinata knows, Komaeda’s content could have come from his hard work being validated in a way so many others weren’t so fortunate. It’s not his fault the world could be imbalanced and unfair. Hell, Komaeda could have worked even harder than the rest of them to get where he was.

...No, it was just fortune, he later figured out. Easy to resent him for, but all the same, it wasn’t something Hinata could blame him for.

--

“Hinata-kun!”

It’s strange. Hearing that soft voice call out his name so enthusiastically is strange. He’s almost sure it’s never going to be something he’s used to. Nor is Komaeda trailing up behind him, chipper and carefree even though he’s still bandaged and bruised, and only that one uncovered eye has a bright gleam. Hinata stops out of courtesy and pity, allowing him to catch up, but he’s still on edge the closer that elite student inches towards him—like his unmoving feet are somehow nearing the edge of that cliff over the rapids.

“Is it free period for reserve students as well, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda asks him, and Hinata swallows before mutely nodding. That smile brightens, he holds his breath, and the other simply continues, “Do you mind if I spend time around you? I’m always painfully bored during these times, you see.”

Shouldn’t you be hanging around actual HPA students?! But Hinata holds his tongue and shrugs.

“If...that’s what you want... I don’t know why me though...”

“Why?” Komaeda blinks once like he’s really taken off-guard like it isn’t obvious, and then, “Well, it’s because you interest me, of course.”

...And it’s been a long, long time since anyone called him remotely ‘interesting’. So he has nothing to say to that—and he can only flinch as Komaeda cheerfully comes closer, with a brief brush of contact between their sides, and that bright smile on his face widens.

Surprisingly, being stuck on that smile didn’t feel as much like being stuck drowning in those currents as he thought it would. If anything, it was more like being stuck in fog—still blurring but he was still breathing.

And with a puff of air from his lips, Hinata mutely followed wherever Komaeda lead, all while he stared at that bright, bright smile on that broken face as though it were his one source of light.

--

“Hinata-kun, what do you think of Hope’s Peak?”

It’s one of the first questions he’s asked, and it’s the first time Hinata can tear his eyes from Komaeda to instead look to the main building—tall and proud on that hill—where Komaeda, too, has his sights set.

“I...admire Hope’s Peak more than anything...”

That’s why I’m here in the first place.

“Oh, same here!” Komaeda turned to face him radiantly, wind rustling his hair and he held his hands out with the brightest of laughs. “The breeding ground of hope—the housing place of the world’s very own potential leaders and ideals—doesn’t Hope’s Peak only ever sound like something incredible? Like a very blessing from the heavens itself?”

“Yeah...” he agrees, nodding as he swallowed. His voice shakes, just a bit. “I-It’s really something special, isn’t it?”

“Well, that’s expectable, isn’t it? A special school for special people. Any other ol’ normal school simply won’t do at all.” Komaeda shakes his head, chuckling still. “Ah, but, if anyone should know that, it’s Hinata-kun.”

Hinata himself trembles, just a bit. “Y... Yeah...”

“Oh, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda murmurs then, and he reaches out to take Hinata’s hands in his own. They’re cold yet soft, strange yet wonderful. There’s a lovely twinkle in Komaeda’s eye...

“Hinata-kun, you hate it here, don’t you?”

It was only later that Hinata would realize that it had been a twinkle of malice.

--

“The reserve course,” Komaeda starts gently. “The backup course—the reject course. How could anyone be happy there?”

He strokes over Hinata’s wrists, over his fluttering pulse.

“You pay and pay, and for what? Simply for Hope’s Peak to grace you with its proximity?” Komaeda gives a hard, unamused chuckle. “Rather patronizing, isn’t it? Hardly befitting for the birthplace of hope.”

Hinata watches him trace the lines of his palm with his spindly fingers. Komaeda meets his gaze almost shyly, but the real emotion he oozes is pitying compassion.

“Do you hate them? Do you wish to prove them wrong?”

Hinata’s mouth wouldn’t work no matter what he did. He just felt lost in Komaeda’s cloudy-eyed swirling gaze. In the back of his mind, he wondered how Komaeda could possibly know about the project.

“There’s potential in you,” Komaeda says suddenly. “But it’s not the kind that HPA thinks it is. You have the potential to change everything, Hinata-kun, not just the potential to be changed.”

He releases his hands and pulls away.

“I have high hopes for you as the next Kamukura Izuru.”

He turns on his heel, he gives a wave as he goes on his way.

The tips of his hair look pink, was all that crossed Hinata’s mind. Komaeda’s smile, his features, his words—they all curled around Hinata’s heart. And they all sunk in their fangs as if either meaning to hold on or to bleed him dry.

If he were to look back, he could paint himself as the victim. Could claim that Komaeda tricked him with the intention of using him. Could claim that Komaeda was the manipulator with honeyed words and a mesmerizing gaze.

But, in reality, Komaeda was just that last needed push, the last tug on his heart that helped seal his fate.

[wikiangela-fanfics]

Fictober22 - 5. No, anything but that.

Fandom: 911

Ship: Buck x Eddie

Words: 600

Ao3

Note: Idek what this is, it's not my fave, I think I'm already running out of ideas but I wanna do as many of these fictober prompts as I can manage haha I feel like something more angsty could've fit this prompt better but I'm in fluff mood lately haha

***

“We’re home!” Buck calls from the hallway as soon as he and Christopher enter the house. As they’re in the process of taking their shoes and jackets off, Eddie comes out of the kitchen to greet them. 

“Hey guys, how was the zoo?” he asks, ruffling Chris’ hair, then giving Buck a quick kiss on the cheek.

“It was so fun. I’ll show you pictures.” Chris answers with a huge grin. 

“After dinner, okay? You guys hungry?” Eddie looks between them, and sees them exchanging a worried glance. Oh, come on, he wasn’t that bad of a cook.

“Depends. Are we ordering in, or…?” Bucky asks tentatively.

“I cooked.” Eddie says with a raised eyebrow. 

“What did you cook?” Chris questions. 

“Abuela’s famous enchiladas.” he sighs, already knowing where it’s going. His boys love to make fun of him for ruining even the simplest meals. But to be fair, the few times Eddie tried to make this particular dish before, he completely screwed it up and it tasted awful. But this is now. He’s learned.

“Oh no. Dad, please, anything but that.” his son says overdramatically, looking back at Buck for help. 

“You both like them!” Eddie argues.

“Yeah, when abuela makes them.” is Chris’ response. 

“Abuela’s recipes are not your strong suit, babe.” Buck adds delicately.

“You know I can cook now, right?” Eddie asks with amusement. He didn’t spend so much time learning recipes and tips from Linda and abuela for his boys to underestimate him now. He still enjoys their exaggerated criticism, though, it’s always funny.

“Do you, though?” Christopher asks doubtfully, and Eddie can’t help but scoff, though it comes out with a small chuckle. Yeah, Buck cooks more often, but he’s been cooking more lately, too, with no complaints so far. Or, with less complaints than before. Though, to be fair, he usually sticks to simpler things.

“Okay, let’s at least try it.” Buck rolls his eyes, a fond smile on his face as he looks at Eddie. “If it’s not edible again, we’ll order pizza.” he stage-whispers to Chris, who beams at him.

“You guys suck.” Eddie shakes his head and laughs, turning away to go back into the kitchen, adding just: “Wash your hands and come eat.”

When they sit down, and their plates are full, Christopher observes Buck to see his reaction to the food before risking it. Which, Eddie can admit, is very fair considering his previous attempts at cooking. Buck takes a bite and his expression melts.

“Oh my God.” he says with his mouth full.

“It’s good?” Chris sounds surprised.

“It’s not abuela’s, but still pretty amazing.” Buck smiles, his eyes meeting Eddie’s over the table. Eddie is overjoyed he likes it. He loves finally being able to feed his boys home cooked meals. “You did good, babe. Sorry we doubted you.”

“See? I’m a good cook.” Eddie says proudly.

“Eh. I’d say decent.” Christopher says reluctantly, after taking a bite. 

“I’ll take it.” Eddie can’t help but chuckle. As they dig in, Chris and Buck start telling him all about their trip to the zoo, and Eddie listens intently, soaking in every word. This is his favorite way to spend evenings lately, just their little family eating dinner together, talking about their days – he even enjoys them making fun of him for his cooking, because, first of all, he can prove them wrong, and it’s just funny. He loves his family so much, and he loves being able to show it to them even by simply cooking them a good meal (which he finally learned how to do).

[spainkitty]

WIP WEDNESDAY

Part 2 Chapter 2

She hurried out the gates, not wanting to waste any time. The biggest bonfire was out here, as wide and long as a pyre and higher than her head. The Chargers stood around it with a mix of Inquisition soldiers, mages, and Adaar's close-knit circle, though Adaar wasn't there, since she was probably still standing with Cassandra near the requisition table. Lanil could hear them singing and laughing. The fire itself was flashing different colors, but not by magic. Rocky was handing people things, watching them toss it into the bonfire, immediately followed by a hair-raising boom and blinding flash of a random color. Of course, that's where Sera had ended up, one of the fearless throwers. Varric stood near the Iron Bull with a mug in hand.

For a moment, she hesitated. She wanted to go down there. She wanted to keep laughing and be part of that team that had accepted her so easily. Something she didn't think possible outside a Circle. But Sera probably wouldn't want to see her right now anyway. Her feet continued along the way she'd planned.

The tents for the soldiers and templars were dark and silent. The snow-covered ground glimmering and empty. Except for a single, tall, broad figure. His feet were placed shoulder-width apart, his hands resting lax on the sword hilt, and his face raised to the sky. She stopped in front of him, arms crossed, and glared at him. They stood silently, their breaths rising in soft white clouds.

"Well?" Lanil demanded at last. The man could try the patience of Andraste herself.

"You came here," Cullen replied, the amusement clear even if she couldn't quite make out his expression in the ever shifting lights and shadows.

"Yes, because you're here. Why are you here and not celebrating with everyone else? I thought the Inquisition's victory today would..." Lanil frowned pensively. "Please you? Make you relax somewhat?"

"I am pleased and I'm very relaxed. I'm enjoying the view." He jerked his chin towards Haven.

Lanil turned and stepped back. And then stepped back one more time so she could be standing next to him. It really was an excellent view of the mages' lightshow. They were getting more creative the longer she watched, until Lanil tilted her head at one particular shape. Then tilted her head the other way.

"I think it's a hat," Cullen suggested doubtfully.

"Hm, I think it's a cake."

"No, it's definitely a--No, you're right. That's a cake."

Lanil smirked at him. "I'm always right." He huffed under his breath and she looked up at the fading hat-cake before she did something like smile for real. "If they keep this up much longer, it's probably going to get obscene. Want to bet on how long that takes?"

Cullen groaned again and rubbed his face with a hand. "I was just thinking I should find out who started this to thank them, but maybe I should reprimand them instead."

"I'd like to see you try, Rutherford." Lanil scoffed and propped a hand on her hip. "I started it."

"Of course you did."

"I didn't try to make pictures, though, just threw some light in the air. I'm a terrible artist. If I did something obscene, like a rude hand sign or a penis, Sera probably would've liked it a lot more."

"Please don't use magic to impress Sera of all people," Cullen protested, sputtering in shock.

[residents-of-the-darkforest]

Sickly (4)

Blossomtuft was more than happy to spend the morning sleeping in. She woke early out of habit, but allowed herself to enjoy the comfortable feeling of fresh moss against her tired bones, drinking in the darkness from behind her shut, heavy eyes.

She ended up falling asleep for a little while longer. When she awoke again, Amberthistle was still in the den with her, snoring on the opposite side so loudly that Blossomtuft was sure that it was what had woken her up. Glaring, she stood up and padded out of the den, stretching until her legs shook as the sunlight warmed her back.

She purred when she saw Rainbur sitting on a patch of grass nearby. Had he waited for her? He purred back when he saw her, hurrying closer so that he could nuzzle her chin. “Hootpetal told me you’ve requested not to be put on the dawn patrol today.”

“I wanted to sleep in. Why?”

“I’m surprised, is all,” Rainbur admitted as he led the way to the fresh-kill pile. Blossomtuft was going to pick something for herself today. “Most queens don’t go on patrols at all while they’re still looking after their kits.”

Blossomtuft gave him a hard look. “What are you suggesting?”

Rainbur looked away, clearly sensing that he was nearing trouble. “Nothing. You’re a great mother.”

“I know that,” Blossomtuft responded a bit harsher. “Why do you sound like you want to make me doubt it?”

“I don’t,” Rainbur replied. “You just…always want to be out doing something. It’s strange seeing you take a breather, that’s all.”

Blossomtuft let out a breath. She picked up a frog and waited as Rainbur chose a mouse for himself. “Myrtlewing wanted to see me soon, he suggested I stay in.”

Rainbur’s eyes rounded. “You’re not sick, are you? I can tell Hazebird to back off–”

Blossomtuft laughed. “Worry-wart. I’m fine, it’s only caution. And maybe if I listen and let him take a look at me, he’ll give me something for my dear friend.”

Rainbur’s ears fell. “Why does that sound worse to me?”

“Oh, hush,” Blossomtuft gave him a friendly smack with her tail. “Our target is always each other.”

Rainbur took a tentative bite from his mouse. “I’m not worried about being poisoned, I’m worried about dealing with the…heightened, disgruntled emotions.”

“What you’re going to deal with is a happy she-cat dancing on sunshine because this is a competition that she is going to win.” 

“As always…” Rainbur spoke doubtfully. Blossomtuft didn’t like the suggestion in his voice that said that Hazebird came out as the winner most times–he did not!--but she let it go in favour of paying attention to the food in front of her. 

“And,” she added when she had finished her meal, wiping her tongue over her lips and standing, “no one is getting poisoned. At least, not me.”