#side a chapter 💚💙

[naminethewriter]

You're Not Alone

Chapter Three: Alone No More

Masterpost | First | Previous | Next | Ao3

Back again with the @sanderssidesgiftxchange gift for @edupunkn00b! It's slow going but it's going! Only one more chapter and the epilogue left. Hope you enjoy 🥰

Summary: Logan, Janus and Remus are celebrating their first Christmas as a married couple but a snow storm strands both Janus and Remus elsewhere, leaving Logan home alone. Knowing that the situation will trigger their husband, Janus and Remus need to find a way home.

Content Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, mentions of panic attacks and flashbacks

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The door swung open to reveal a person covered from head to toe in thick clothes. Clothes that Logan recognized from this morning when Janus had left for Patton’s. His husband hates the cold so even for the few hours of sledding he had dressed like he was going skiing for the entire day, though he hadn’t worn everything for the drive. Now though, he wore the thick jacket buttoned up to his mouth, the hood up and a pair of sunglasses that were designed to keep snow out of the eyes. And it was obvious that it had been necessary with how much snow was clinging to his clothes.

“Would you let me come in, darling? Despite the many layers, it still feels like I’m freezing,” Janus said after a few moments of Logan simply staring at him.

Logan went from frozen to hectic within a few seconds. He pulled Janus inside and shut the door with more force than necessary. He began to wipe the snow off Janus’ clothes with bare hands, all the while rambling anxiously.

“What happened? How did you even get here?! Why are you here? Weren’t you at Remy’s? You must be freezing! What if you have hypothermia? We can’t get to a hospital in this weather!”

Cold hands grabbing his own startled him out of his panic. Janus had taken off the hood, glasses and gloves and his heterochromatic eyes were staring into his blue ones.

“Breathe, darling. I’m fine. Yes, I’m cold but that is a good sign. If I were hypothermic, I would be running very hot. If you would be so kind and get me a towel, I’ll get out of these clothes and we’ll talk about how I got here when you’ve calmed down, okay?”

Logan nodded, still shaking slightly. Janus gave him a task to focus on, something concrete to do and that alone helped him calm down. Still, he hesitated to leave, a part of him convinced that this was an illusion, that Janus hadn’t actually come home, that he was still alone.

His worries must have been written on his face because Janus smiled and squeezed his hands.

“I’ll be right here when you get back, starlight. I promise.”

That was enough to reassure Logan to set off to the bathroom. On his way he counted his breaths, in for four, hold for seven, out for eight. His heartbeat had mostly normalized as he opened the cupboard they kept their towels in. He grabbed one larger and two smaller ones and made his way back to the entrance.

It was silent as he travelled back through the hallway. He couldn’t hear Janus and again, he worried that he had just imagined the ringing of the doorbell and his husband coming home, but as he rounded the last corner, there he was, on the floor, struggling to pull off his boots. He smiled at Logan and suddenly he felt so much lighter.

This was real.

Janus was really there.

He wasn’t going to be all alone.

“Thank you, dear,” Janus hummed as Logan handed him the first towel. He wiped his face with it, then pulled off his slightly damp socks and wrapped his feet in the soft material with a sigh. Logan moved behind him and dried off his long hair, though it was barely wet, safely hidden under the hood and scarf Janus had worn. Said articles of clothing hung on their coat rack, dripping water steadily on the floor. They should move those to the laundry room soon.

Again, it was almost as if his husband read his mind when he commented:

“I should probably take a shower after taking this all to dry in the laundry room.”

“While I do agree with moving the wet clothing, I do not believe showering is the best option. If you do have some form of hypothermia, warming up too quickly could have adverse effects and I know you tend to use hot water to shower,” Logan argued while his husband pouted at him.

“Then how am I supposed to get warm again?”

Logan blushed slightly and avoided eye contact. Despite being married to both Janus and Remus for months now and having previously dated a couple years, he was still rather shy about openly showing affection. He cleared his throat.

“Sharing body heat is probably the best method.”

He didn’t need to look to know that Janus was grinning at him teasingly.

“Is that so?” he hummed. “Then are you willing to share your heat with me, my darling?”

“Of course I am. But we should get you into some dry and warm clothes first.” Logan didn’t hesitate in his offer, but his cheeks do turn a deeper shade of red.

“If I was Remus, I would suggest leaving clothes out of it entirely, but I would love to put on one of my sweaters, actually.”

Logan sighed at the mention of his other husband. He hoped he and Roman had managed to find a hotel room to stay in. They should call them once Janus was taken care off.

“I’ll put the clothes away, would you be a dear and fetch me my self-care day outfit?” Janus asked with a smile that Logan found he could never say no to. Not that he wanted to, he wanted to know his husband was not freezing to death sooner rather than later.

“You are the best,” Janus said when Logan nodded. He gathered the jacket, scarf, boots and other equipment he had taken off, pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek and disappeared down the hall.

Logan himself went upstairs to their bedroom, but as he tried to enter, he found the room locked. Right. Of course it was. A precaution he had agreed to. And a necessary one at that since he could vaguely remember having a flashback intense enough that he would have locked himself inside if he had had the opportunity to do so. Janus had told him where he hid the key this morning in case Logan actually needed to enter their room for whatever reason since he wouldn’t remember during a flashback. And maybe it was the aftershocks of having one, but he couldn’t recall where the key was.

“Janus?” he called, after having walked back to the staircase, hoping his husband would hear him.

“Yes?” came the quiet but clear response.

“Where is the key for the bedroom again?”

“In the kitchen, under your Crofter’s jar!”

“Right,” Logan mumbled to himself before calling a thank you to his husband and going downstairs to retrieve the item.

He found Janus there already, only dressed in a long-sleeved shirt, leggings of some kind and his house shoes. He held the key out for Logan to take while using his free hand to set up water to boil, presumably for tea.

“You want some as well?” he asked as he handed over the small object.

“Yes please. And sorry for making you wait.”

“It’s alright. This layer is completely dry and warm enough for now.”

“I will still hurry.”

“Thank you, darling.” Janus pressed another kiss to his cheek and Logan hurried back to their bedroom, the promise of cuddles with his husband and a cup of tea very appealing to him as he was hit with a wave of exhaustion.

~~~

Ten minutes later, Logan and Janus sat beside each other on the couch, their legs tangled together under a blanket and each with a cup of their respective favorite teas in hand. Janus now wore his hair tied in a loose bun, his favorite yellow sweater and very comfy pants that Remus liked to steal from him occasionally.

Logan couldn’t be more comfortable but still he couldn’t quench his curiosity.

“Would you mind explaining to me now how you got here?”

Janus sighed and leaned forward to place his mug on the coffee table.

“It’s simple really. I walked.”

“You walked?”

“Yes.”

“From Remy’s to here?”

“Yes.”

“Through a snowstorm?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Why would you do that?! Do you not understand how dangerous that is?! You could have died! How did you not die?”

Logan was shaking and Janus carefully extracted the cup of tea from his hands and placed it beside his own before pulling him in a hug.

“I was well aware of the risk, honey. But what else was I supposed to do?”

“Stay where it was safe! Wait until the storm had passed!”

“Knowing you were here alone? Knowing you were already on the brink of a panic attack as soon as you hung up? I couldn’t do that, Logan. I never want you to have to experience those flashbacks again. I hate seeing you hurt like that. It breaks my heart and if you would allow me to pay that woman back for what she did to you, I would in a heartbeat, as would Remus. I think he has at least twenty different plans on how to make her life hell written down somewhere. I couldn’t stand the thought of you being here, alone, for however many hours it would be until the storm clears. I had to get to you. No matter what.”

“You could have died, Janus,” Logan said, his voice breaking. Both of them were crying, clinging onto each other as if it was the only thing keeping them alive. It felt like it was to Logan at least.

“I know. Remy told me so at least a dozen times. But you’re more important.”

“I’m not more important than your life!”

“To me you are.”

Logan sobbed and hid his face in Janus’ chest. His husband let it happen, stroking his hair and nuzzling against it.

“The important thing is that I made it here. Don’t think about what could have been and just be happy that we’re here together. You can still yell at me tomorrow.”

“I will.”

“I know. I’ll look forward to it.”

“You are incorrigible.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too. Now rest. We can prepare dinner together after a nap, okay?”

“Okay.”

Logan didn’t move and Janus made no attempt to separate them either and soon, both drifted off.

~~~

They awoke a few hours later to the doorbell ringing constantly and someone pounding at the door.

“LOGIE?! ARE YOU OKAY? CAN YOU HEAR ME?? OPEN THE DOOR! I WON’T LET YOU BE ALONE ANYMORE!”

The calling continued as Janus and Logan looked at each other with wide eyes.

“Remus?!”

[peachy-skies-writings]

Stardew Valley - Sharing a Bed with the Bachelors - Headcanons (SFW)

Pairing: SDV!Bachelors x GN!Reader

A/N: this is the first time I've done a headcanon so let me know what you think?

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💚🏈 Alex 🏈💚

Falls asleep so quickly my gOD IT'S FRUSTRATING. Maybe it's all the working out he does but as soon as his head is on that pillow, he's gone.

Alex snores. Loud. He's not as bad now you've got him those nose strips though.

This man runs laps in his sleep. So much for a relaxing sleep and trying to recover from the days exercise. Gains are gains.

Big spoon. Will cuddle (and is actually still if he cuddles so that's a plus for you).

Alex wakes up early - his training means he gets up around the same time as you do on the farm. Definitely will wake you up in other ways if you catch my drift.

🧡📖 Elliot 📖🧡

Elliot doesn't fall asleep straight away, he'd sit up in bed for a while reading a chapter of a book or doing some journaling.

It's not really snoring, more like breathing heavier than he does during the day. It's not noticeable really unless he has his nose against your ear.

Occasionally turns over in his sleep but mostly stays in the same position and is laid on his back, he's got to make sure his hair doesn't frizz (he also has a silk pillow, you're welcome)

He'll let you cuddle into him but as he's laid on his back, he's not really a spoon - more like a spatula. You can put your head on his chest though and snuggle in and he'll wrap one arm around you.

Gets up later than you but wakes up around the same time. He'll give you a good morning kiss and let you get on with your work.

🤍🩺 Harvey 🩺🤍

He's quiet and tends to fall asleep quite quickly unless he's had a stressful day or he's worried about a patient.

Harvey doesn't snore much, only if he's had wine. He has the decency to turn away from you and be the little spoon if he's had a glass or two though.

He stays pretty still in his sleep but doesn't that weird jerk thing occasionally as he's falling asleep. Y'know the one?

Other than after the wine, he'll be the big spoon - he likes to protect you as much as he can. He's also definitely not correcting your posture as you sleep - what are you talking about?

He gets up earlier than you on a weekend so that he can bring you breakfast in bed, telling you that it's healthy to stay in bed longer sometimes.

💙🎸Sam 🎸💙

Just yaps until he gets too tired and falls asleep. Talks about nonsense with you until his eyes start getting tired and he begins having his sentences interrupted with yawns. Then it's lights out.

Sam doesn't really snore, more like talks in his sleep. Just nonsense though. Although occasionally he comes out with something funny that you tell him about in the morning.

Tosses and turns, you'd think he was awake with all the sleep talking and moving. He's not violent in the way he moves though, he's quite fluid so it barely disturbs you.

Sometimes you wake up and Sam is basically laid on top of you cuddling you. He just loves feeling close to you and sleepy Sam just loves to snuggle.

Sam is already cuddling you when he wakes up so he just snuggles in further - trying to get as close as he can (and probably trying to get a few more minutes of sleep). Will grumble when your alarm goes off.

💜🎮Sebastian 🎮💜

Sebastian doesn't go to bed until he's actually tired so usually it's lights out as soon as his head hits the pillow. If he's had a bad day though, he's wide awake reliving everything he's ever done wrong (A/N: same lol) and you'd have to comfort him to get him to drift off.

He doesn't really snore, only if he's laid on his back (and even then it's only gentle). He knows though, so he tries to sleep on his side so that he doesn't disturb your sleep.

If you didn't see him breathing, you'd think he was dead. That's how little Sebastian moves.

At first he's a bit apprehensive about cuddling you, worried that he'll get too warm (boy is a furnace) but he starts to really enjoy it, especially when he's having those bad days - they really help him relax. He doesn't mind if he's big or little spoon, he just enjoys being close to you.

Wakes up pretty sleepy still and will move over to your side of the bed for comfort and warmth when you get up to begin farm work. He'll go back to sleep for a little but will wake up and make you a cup of coffee for when you're out of the shower.

🖤🐓Shane 🐓🖤

He plays on his phone for about an hour before he falls asleep - either on social media (doomscrolling) or on whatever the SDV universe's version of tiktok is.

Depending on how much beer he's had or if he's now sober, his snore will be louder than Grand Central Station if he's been drinking. If he's not been, it's still there but it's manageable for you to sleep.

Barely moves in his sleep. He's used to animals in the house so has trained himself not to roll over onto them. He used to not-so-secretly let Charlie (his chicken) sleep on his bed.

He's either big spoon or you're laid with your head on his chest. The only time he's little spoon is if he's poorly and needs some extra lovin'.

Shane wakes up with you in his arms and he's just so damn happy. He's a bit groggy from sleep but he holds you just a little tighter.

[carlos-in-glasses]

Thank you for the tag @whattarush @ironheartwriter @corsage

@lemonlyman-dotcom @bonheur-cafe @heartstringsduet @strandnreyes 🧡

This is from chapter 1 of Poet Fic (which also doubles as a TK sickfic). Planning to post this Sunday!:

Carlos is going to love saying I told you so.

TK started feeling headachy yesterday while getting ready to go out for their anniversary picnic. By the time they were rolling their smart red blanket out near a shady creek in the habitat preserve, TK was pawing bear-like into their wicker hamper, untwisting the cap of a chilled San Pellegrino in a panic. Carlos, quirking a curious brow, watched him glug almost the whole bottle in one go.

TK rapidly explained that his throat was dry. Didn’t want to use the word sore. But eventually he couldn’t stand it. The Camembert might as well have been garnished with razor blades, it hurt so much going down.

Carlos advised very sensibly this morning that TK call in sick, due to the throat-of-blades evolving overnight into an intense bronchial tickle. And now look. TK Strand has a fever, a runny nose, a fading voice, gross cough, crackly breath, and he actually did sneeze fifteen times in one minute this afternoon. Nancy counted. His headache, which he woke up with, has pooled ever-downwards into his sinuses, and his eyeballs feel like baseballs that have just been batted spectacularly in the World Series. Nancy said his cough sounded like, “The bark of a seal slapping dramatically down a theme park waterslide.”He laughed, trying to see the funny side, but then he coughed so much he heaved and Captain Vega said, “Okay, TK, office – now!”

Trying to see the funny side takes energy anyway. He slumps in his chair across from the boss who loves him like a mother, and checks the text message that came through a moment ago.

“Oh no–” he sits forwards, “Cap–”

“TK?” Captain Vega looks up from her clipboard, pen poised over a pink-toned slip of paper. “What’s wrong?”

Open tag and tags below:

@paperstorm @thisbuildinghasfeelings @lightningboltreader @reyesstrand @goodways

@rmd-writes @welcometololaland @ladytessa74

@never-blooms @liminalmemories21 @alrightbuckaroo @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut

@chicgeekgirl89 @freneticfloetry @theghostofashton @honeybee-taskforce

@sugdenlovesdingle @herefortarlos @orchidscript @tellmegoodbye

@three-drink-amy @carlos-tk @pimento-playing-hopscotch

@eclectic-sassycoweyes @kiwichaeng @literateowl @butchreyes

@captain-gillian @nancys-braids @fifthrideroftheapocalypse

@emsprovisions @sapphic--kiwi @anactualcaseofthetruth

@nisbanisba - if you want to share/haven't already! No pressure ever! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 34 - Redux

What went before - Tumblr / AO3

Previous chapter

Also if you never saw my short fic Composition which I snuck in between Presence and this one, it’s only 2,700 words in total but as the below references it a fair bit, you might want to have a quick look there.

Anyway, Earth&Sky in the storm time.

Um, second time’s a charm?

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

Have you got a plan?

Scott’s run had lasted just over 135 minutes so far. According to EOS, he had achieved three new personal bests over some of the steeper segments of the Island’s well-worn tracks despite the relentless downfall making his footing treacherous. He laser-focussed on the familiar path ahead, compensating for the slip risk. He wasn’t a fool, well aware that he was likely to fall and turn an ankle or sprain a wrist or something similarly irritating if he didn’t concentrate and he didn’t have time for that. So he concentrated. Because stopping wasn’t an option. He couldn’t even ease up the pace yet. Because if he did, he’d have time to think and… and… no.

He couldn’t let that happen.

He’d let too much happen already today.

He hadn’t even tried.

Scott! Have you got a plan?

Not yet. But I will in a minute…

What if he’d said yes? What if he’d been quicker to think? Was there something he’d missed? Some way through…

Wait, Scott! We need more data. Wait?

If I can just get down there…

Please, Scott, listen?

He spluttered as a gust of wind blew the deluge directly into his face.

Could you listen?

He’d promised he would, so he had.

He had. He’d listened and he’d done nothing and…

Aaaaaaagh.

He growled, shook his head and pushed harder, trying to drown out the memory of his brother’s voice, of all the other desperate voices, with the harshness of his own breathing.

Just… run. Uciec.

Every life he’d failed to save since the very first, clawed at him from the sides of the track. So many of them now. He pressed on, trying not to step on their hands.

Listen!

Wait?

RUN. It was the only plan he had for now.

His pulse thundered in his head as, predictably, the brother he least wanted to see right now joined the trail just ahead of him and jogged easily alongside. The only surprise was that it had taken so long.

Scott pushed his speed up a notch and his quads screamed at him. Good. Focus on that. The rain provided enough white noise that he could almost ignore the sound of the second set of feet pounding along the track.

He counted his own steps under his breath:

Onetwothreefourfivesixseveneight…

His pace slowed a little as the path sloped upwards more steeply, his breath little more than gasping now… nine-ten-eleven-twelve-thirteen. Thirteen. Thirteen families torn apart. He staggered a little and immediately noticed but ignored the hand brushing his elbow. He pushed on.

Fourteen-fifteen-sixteen-thirteen-thirteen-thirteen-thirteen-thirteen…

All those people had believed in International Rescue. Believing for a miracle in blue.

Believing in him.

And he’d stood there… waiting… USELESS… and then it had all come down and it was too late and they were gone.

He hadn’t even TRIED.

“Scott, slow down. Please?”

No.

Can’t.

Uciec…

“Did that already. Didn’t turn out so well.”

“I’m sorry. But can we…”

“I need a minute.”

“You’ve had plenty, Scott it’s been…”

“You know best of course.” He regretted the snarling tone as soon as it emerged but he’d just have to add ‘being a good brother’ to the list of other stuff he’d already failed at today.

And when Scott Tracy started failing he really went to town.

His breath caught painfully in the back of his throat and his eyes blurred in a way he couldn’t blame on the rain streaming down his forehead. All those people. He hadn’t even tried… he hadn’t even…

With a hiss he shook his head and tried to blot it out. Something twinged in his thigh and he weaved slightly as he tried to shake it out. Of course little brother would have seen but he didn’t mention it and Scott ploughed on. The path turned and began to climb the shoulder of the caldera. Thunder grumbled away in the distance but he hadn’t noticed any lightning amongst the deluge.

“You know I was right, Scott!”

“THEY DIED! THEY ALL DIED, VIRGIL! GONE! JUST LIKE THAT!”

“AND YOU WOULD HAVE TOO!”

The unexpected volume finally brought him up short. Virgil didn’t shout…

But Virgil’s expression wasn’t angry. Scott turned away again, unable to process the agony in his brother’s eyes just then.

“Maybe I wouldn’t… there might have been something I could have done.”

“Sometimes there is nothing that can be done, Scott. Even by us. Even by you.” Virgil’s voice was small now. And it shook.

Scott keened quietly and hugged himself in an effort to control the muscle fatigue shivers that were beginning. He slowly shook his head from side to side, as if denial might yet change the outcome.

Virgil’s arms appeared around him and held on tight. The rain continued to slam into the earth around them.

“Sometimes there is nothing that can be done.” He repeated softly.

Scott had already parroted these exact words to the GDF officer who had, as usual, turned up too late to be of any use. His heart hadn’t been in them. Where his heart had been at that very moment was in the clenched fists of the woman he could see over the uniformed shoulder. Whose eyes had pleaded with him to make it untrue. The wife of one of the local first responders who had been trapped in the mine as it collapsed. The raw agony on her face as she hung limply over the linked arms of two friends and howled was too familiar.

A freak avalanche obliterated all in its path. A sabotaged fighter jet exploded on the runway. A prototype spaceship exploded into atoms.

The second solid hour of pushing past his limit wandered over and presented its bill and Scott folded at the knees.

Virgil caught him and held him up, like he always did. Even when Scott was unwilling to admit it was required.

“We can’t save everyone Scott… you know that. Dad always said so.”

“I didn’t even try.“

“You would have if there’d been a chance. So would we all. That’s why we flew all the way there. That matters!”

Scott blinked the sweat-rain-weakness out of his eyes and glared at a rock.

No, not weakness. She always said so.

He kicked at the rock and missed.

He wrestled back control of his limbs and straightened up and but continued to avoid Virgil’s eye which took some doing because his he could feel his brother eyeballing him as determinedly as the amply muscled arms were holding his torso hostage. Scott pretended to himself that this was why he was struggling to catch a breath. The rainfall increased in intensity and the sound of it filled his ears with fuzz.

“One of the wives… she just looked at me and I… I had nothing. Nothing to say to her. Nothing.” His thoughts sped away from his control even as his brother restrained his body from chasing them. “But what could I say? We’re supposed to stop it happening! I’m supposed to try… Can… can you even imagine…” he dragged in a breath and tried to stop his head swimming as the nausea rose “… how they feel when we fail? To know the person who made their life make sense… who they exist for, is gone? Just like that?”

“I don’t have to imagine.”

Virgil’s voice was quiet and flat, but cut through the air like a scythe.

Scott‘s racing mind ran smack into a wall. The chill of the rain was nothing compared to the ice that suddenly crystallised in every vein.

He swore, silently - he had no breath left to make a sound.

How could he have forgotten?

Already?

It hadn’t even been two months since he’d held his tormented and terrified brother in his arms and sworn he’d do anything. The reason he’d stopped today, for the promise he’d made was the knowledge of what he’d driven Virgil to. And yet somehow as soon as the path between he and the trapped ones had disappeared, the guilt had driven it from his mind. He’d lost his way. Again.

The thunder rolled more insistently. This time the flash was bright enough to penetrate his scrunched up eyelids.

Even if he had the breath he didn’t yet have the words. So he dragged an arm out of Virgil’s vice grip and hugged him hard. Virgil sagged into the embrace and Scott shifted the angle of one leg such that he was better able to support his larger brother’s weight. He had nothing left for anything more. The fury was gone, leaving only a gaping chasm where the pent up energy had been.

Scott’s breath deepened and slowed as they stood there, propping each other up. Even here, even like this, his brother’s presence was soothing. Grounding. It always was. It was why Scott had been avoiding him… he hadn’t felt he’d earned that comfort today.

The storm was right on top of them now, the roaring and the flashing almost synchronous. The palm trees creaked and groaned, the rain slammed into their skulls and gushed down the rocky track. The sea howled and tore itself apart on the shore.

And yet all Scott could hear was Mom’s song. Not with his ears, he heard it in his bones as Virgil hummed quietly into his chest. Suddenly he was in the deepest pit again, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to hold on to anything but his brother’s voice calling him home.

Only this time, he could answer.

And so Scott sung her lullaby to his little brother as the storm raged its way over their island and out across the Pacific:

You’ll soar through the sky

Or sail on the sea

And when you get home

That’s where I shall be

Go find your adventures

So fearless and free

I’ll wait for you always

As proud as can be

And if there is darkness

No hope you can see

My heart holds you safely

You’ll always have me

At the last line Virgil was gripping him so hard Scott could feel the skin bruising under his brother’s fingers.

“I am such a fool, Virg… I don’t deserve you.”

Virgil huffed a sigh.

“I’m sorry.”

“S’ok.”

“It’s not.”

“Was never gonna be easy. Thank you for stopping.”

“Thank you for asking me to.”

Virgil looked up at him, doing an impressive impression of a half-drowned puppy. But for once Scott’s heart didn’t melt at the sight of an adorable younger brother.

Instead it clenched with dread. Pale, heavily shadowed and his eyes dilated to almost black in the fast-fading light, Virgil seemed almost wraith-like.

This had to stop. He couldn’t keep doing this to them. He could see it so clearly now. The empty space in his chest where the hurt and the guilt and the rage and the despair and the fear had resided began to fill with a steely glow of determination:

He would burn the world to protect his family.

He’d do it without a second thought.

So why was he risking hurting them every time he tried to save it?

He kissed Virgil on the forehead then stepped out of the embrace to take his brother’s shoulders in his hands. Blue met brown and held them steady.

“I will get better at this. I promise. I… I don’t want to leave you guys. I swear it, Virg, please believe me. I never have. The only reason I didn’t give up and die back… back then was because I needed to get home to you. Because you called me home. I knew you were waiting for me. That hasn’t changed. It has never changed, not for a second.”

“Then… why?”

“I don’t knooow.” The bewildered schoolboy inside Scott betrayed his presence with a faint whine. “I don’t mean… It’s not… It’s just…” He took a shaky breath. “It’s hard for me to choose NOT to act. It’s hard to not TRY. It feels… I… I think I’m scared of the what if? What if I had done more… pushed a little harder and… it had turned out better? It’s hard to see the line where it isn’t worth the cost to try.”

“You can see it well enough when one of our lives are in the balance.”

“True… True. I guess because its the opposite? I’ve spent all my life worrying about how I can protect you all, so I have to restrain myself from stopping you going out there in the first place and… yes I know, I know…” Virgil’s single raised eyebrow said it all. “I’m the world’s biggest hypocrite.”

Scott sighed. Then shivered. His leg muscles sent a polite three-second warning.

“Could we sit down? I might have, um, overdone it a touch.”

“Who could possibly have predicted that?” There was a welcome undertone of humour in Virgil’s snort.

They landed inelegantly but side by side in the mud. Scott took his hand again and they rested a while, their clothes steaming gently in the warmer evening breeze that had pushed the storm ahead of it. A sprinkling of early stars peered through a gap in the diminishing cloud cover.

“I can see the line for you so I can learn to see it when it’s mine too. I’m going to keep listening, ok? Until you don’t need to tell me anymore.”

“Thank you.”

“But…”

Virgil stiffened.

“I need you to do something else for me too.”

“Anything.”

Scott considered his words carefully. He didn’t want to make the same mistake he had ten years prior and shackle his brother with an impossible vow.

“I need you to change your mission.”

“I don’t know what you mean?”

“The task you gave yourself when you were small… to show me that… that I’m worth more than I thought. You have Virg, you always have been doing that but now I see things more clearly… well… I have to take that one on myself.”

Virgil’s hand shifted in his as the younger brother sat up straighter, Scott could sense rather than see the shoulders being squared.

“That makes sense. I can’t be your self-esteem for you. But I will make damn sure you keep making progress on it. Weekly mission status updates, minimum!”

Scott laughed quietly at the grin in his brother’s voice. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. And you have your own now too.”

“And what is that, Oh Great Commander?”

“If I’ve let Dad’s shadow shape me too much, you’ve let my… issues… shape you. I need you to find yourself again.”

Virgil tensed as if he was going to speak but no words came. Scott pressed on:

“You are so very much more than my keeper, Virg, but I’m worried you’ve pushed a lot of yourself to the side for me and I didn’t even see it happening. If I give you a break from being Scott’s 24/7 bodyguard and cheerleader, can you use it to give Virgil time to shine instead? I’d really love to see what might happen if you did.”

It was too dark to see his brother’s face but the happy relief in Virgil’s voice was light enough for both of them:

“I’ll see what I can do.”

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

Your honour, I finally fixed them.

3 more (shorter!) chapters to go by way of epilogue because I promised fluff and bunny ears and they will definitely happen. After all this progress I think they’ve earned it.

Oh and here’s the beautiful art by @lenle-g showing our boys in the rain 💚💙😍

Next chapter

[forest-falcon]

The Butterfly Effect

Chptr 17

It's been a while since I've last updated this fic, but here it is - the next chapter of The Butterfly Effect. Hope you enjoy! And thanks for everyone's lovely support with this story. Hopefully it won't be as long before the next chapter is out 🤞

No major tags for this one - minor angst, whump and a bit of family fluff thrown in!

💙💚🧡💛💜🐦‍🔥🚒

John was torn. Torn between all those who needed him. Torn between duty and love. But, in the end, the choice was easy. His place was on the GDF carrier headed for Auckland, at the side of his brothers and Grandmother.

The post-mission clean up (if it could indeed be called that), the press, and the rest of the world waiting on them, would simply have to manage. God knows, he was having to.

Hauling himself aboard, he gently touched the painted name of the carrier, before finding a vacant seat next to Tam.

"Welcome aboard!" Colonel Casey greets, over the sounds of the engines, and flicking of buttons.

Val had been good to them. As soon as she had a functional comms line up and working, she'd taken the initiative to pull strings with a number of contacts. Phoenix would be allowed the time off from their regular civilian jobs back home to help with getting International Rescue back onto their feet, if they so wished.

It was a unanimous 'yes.'

"We're here for as long as you need us," her words held a warmth befitting her honorary Aunt status. She'd squeezed his shoulder, before brushing a stray lock of hair out of Scott's face.

"Thanks," John sighed, with a gratitude that somehow furthered his exhaustion.

Although it was in the world's best interest to see International Rescue functioning again, as swiftly as possible; it was good to know that people had their backs when the chips were down.

Val made her way to the front of the carrier and a flutter of garish Hawaiian fabric filled the seat.

Gordon peered over the eldest brother.

"Hey there, Bird Bath! How's the head?"

A groan, but Scott's eyes remained shut.

"Gords..."

"The one and only!"

Scott could hear his brother's Cheshire Cat grin.

"As your brother, I feel it's my duty to tell you that that landing was...*raspberry* stinko, awful...I've seen Rigby land better!" He gave a thumbs down.

"Ah, save it! Yours is the one Thunderbird that doesn't fly," Rigby deadpanned, from the cockpit.

"Make him stop," Scott's hoarse whisper is mainly levied at John, but entreats any and all who can hear him.

"Gladly. Just tell me how," John smirks, finally letting his shoulders drop a fraction.

"Ah, don't be like that... Hey, I know what'll cheer you both up!"

"No."

"A good ole sea shanty!" Gordon whips out his pocket device.

"Veto."

"Aww, really John? Not even, 'Leave her Johnny, leave her?'"

"Especially not that."

"Fine. I've got you..."

A moment passes as Gordon scrolls, then taps; and the hangar bursts into song.

"Eurovision!"

Virgil reopens his eyes to the sounds of...wait, is that Conchita Wurst?

Oh God, Gordon - Rise Like a Phoenix...really? Phoenix. This was definitely Gordon's taste in music - and humour.

Virgil doesn't remember being hover-stretchered to the hangar, but it's good to hear the voices of his family once more.

"Stop your fussing. I'm fine,"

"I'll be the judge of that Mrs. Tracy."

"Matthew Eric Jones!" Grandma starts.

"She middle named me! Did y'hear that Mac? She middle named me!"

"Oooh! Now you're in for it!" Gordon's chimes in, clearly enjoying his inflight entertainment.

"I was a doctor-"

"-And now you're my patient. So, unless you're going to sign an AMA form, you'll sit back nicely, and let me do my job."

"Oooh, I like him." Grandma's voice concedes. "Fine. But if they keep me in, you're bringing the treats! And none of this basket of grapes rubbish. I'm talking chocolate and brandy - neat."

"It's a hospital, Grandma." John's voice reasons.

"And?"

"And you should know - better than most, that they're not gonna let us bring that in for you."

Grandma goes to fold her arms, then winces, with a concealed hiss.

"John. Kid. I'm old! Just stick it in a sippy cup and call it apple juice - they'll never know the difference!"

"Stop tryna...get John...into trouble."

It's a wonderful sound, hearing the deep rumble of baritone. Sally can feel a secondary tightness - one she could not attribute to her injury, leave her broken ribcage.

"Eh. Twas worth a shot." She offers up a warm smile, knowing he cannot see it - both her eldest grandsons sporting large foam trauma blocks; but she hopes he can hear the sentiment within her voice.

"Nice to have you back in the land of the living, kid!"

[mah-t-wordblog]

Hi! Can you accept a Lee! Muichiro, Lers! Tanjiro and some hunters?

Referring to the last chapter, it could be that when Tanjiro asks Muichiro to be kinder to others and challenges him to a tickling competition, replacing the paper airplanes, and with the help of the others, they defeat him.

Please and thanks

I think I made some changes to your request, but nothing that affects the whole story, I hope you like it anyway!!!

You need to be kinder!

Lee: Muichiro Tokito

Ler: Tanjiro Kamado

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Ships: NONE

Warnings: This is a tickle fic, if you don’t like it, just scroll down

This fanfic is originally in Portuguese, my English is translated using an automatic translator, if there are any big errors you can tell me so I can fix them

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Tanjiro ran to Muichiro, they were in the hashira’s mansion

“Muichiro!”

“Yes, Tanjiro?”

The redhead looked at the other

“My friends asked me to ask you something…” Tanjiro pointed to the other swordsmen who were hiding behind some trees for fear of Muichiro

The youngest didn’t understand

“What?”

“They wanted you to be more careful with your words, maybe if you spoke in a kinder way”

“But… am I not already much kinder than I used to be?”

Tanjiro smiled “that’s what I told them”

The other hunters sighed and thought they had no chance

“I don’t think I can solve your problem Tanjiro, I’m sorry” Muichiro was about to leave, but he felt someone tug on his sleeve

“Oh, you can’t? I’m sure you can” Tanjiro said in a more threatening voice

“Oh no, don’t you dare!” The blue-haired boy exclaimed in fright

The swordsmen hidden in the background of the scene began to get even more scared of Tanjiro, what was that boy up to? What was he going to do with Tokito?

“Come here!” Tanjiro jumped on top of the other

The hunters thought they would start fighting

But… did they hear laughter?

Muichiro was laughing out loud, they had never heard the Hashira laugh like that

“T-Tanjiro?” One of the swordsmen asked

“It’s okay, don’t worry, I always tickle Tokito to get what I want”

“TAHAHANJIROHOHO” Muichiro tried to stop him, he was blushing and very embarrassed that the others were seeing him like that

“Come on! Come on! You can help me, don’t worry, Muichiro won’t get mad, right?” The redhead asked his victim, he really wouldn’t mind but he was too embarrassed to admit it

A hunter had the courage to do what Tanjiro suggested, approaching to help

Then there were two more

Soon there was a person on each of Muichiro’s sensitive spots

“PLEHEHEAHAHSEHE”

“How about being more gentle?” Tanjiro teased

“I’LL DOHOHO ANYHYTHIHIHING”

Tanjiro asked with his hands for the others to stop

Muichiro covered his face

“You’re embarrassed Mui” Tanjiro asked “no need to be”

“We all feel ticklish” a hunter said “for example…” that boy tickled a friend next to him

The same one retaliated

A little while later two more started to fight

After a while, those people turned into a giant ball of tickling

Thousands of loud laughter and screams coming from all sides

“We can all be friends, right Tanjiro?” Muichiro said, smiling

“Of course we can!”

“I hope all these people live long lives, and can laugh always”

Tanjiro smiled and pocked Muichiro, the youngest laughed

“Hey! Your turn!” He jumped on Tanjiro

Soon the two had already joined the great tickle fight

The laughter was contagious and it was very good to hear

After that day Muichiro really was kinder to the other hunters, he felt more comfortable with them, and Tanjiro fulfilled the desperate request of his friends

❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡💛💚🩵💙💜❤️🧡

Thanks for reading 💛💛

[skyeslittlecorner]

WHB Masterlist

Minors DNI. There may be fics or theories with graphic descriptions of violence, suggestions of death, self-harm and other drastic topics. After all, WHB is a game for adults, and I have no intention of trying to sugarcoat it.

For those who doesn't like character x character, please block this tag: whb!cxc

Updated: 17.03.2024

Gehenna

Duty of a right hand man | Sitri

Orphan from Hades, outcast from Gehenna | Sitri, analysis

Taste of your own medicine | Satan

Tails for All! - Gehenna edition | All

Burnt hair | Satan x Sitri

Everyone did. | Satan (?) and Solomon, analysis

💖 Headcanons & requests: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5

Tartaros

Tails for All! - Tartaros edition | All

💛 Headcanons & requests: 1 | 2

Hades

The young noble | Foras, analysis

Afterparty | Foras, request

Hate to love you | Leviathan, request

Kidnapped to sleep | Leviathan, request

Ball at Hades | All, request

Chains of love | All

Tails for All! - Hades edition | All

💜 Headcanons & requests: 1

Avisos

Duty of a right hand man | Bael

Eyes on me | Bael

Avisos Royal Couple | Bael x Beel

New family member | All

Tails for All! - Avisos edition | All

💚 Headcanons & requests: 1 | 2

Paradise Lost

Piercing | Morax, request

Tails for All! - Paradise Lost edition | All

Abaddon

Tails for All! - Abaddon edition | All

Asmodeus brainrot | Asmodeus, analysis

Niflheim

On the other side | Andrealphus

Promised Land | Andrealphus

Point to point | Andrealphus

Love is blind | Andrealphus

Horns Cleaning Manual | Andrealphus

Blade for you, needle for me | All

Belphegor brainrot | Belphegor, analysis

Tails for All! - Nilfheim edition | All

💙 Headcanons & requests: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6

Other/mixed

The height of WHB demons | Analysis

Time difference between Hell and Earth | Analysis

Summary of chapter 5 | Analysis

Tails for All! - Kings edition | Kings + Lucifer

Reminiscent of old times | Young Kings, Gusion

Caressing | Bael, Sitri, Foras (and others)

WHB Most Babygirl Pools | Andrealphus, Eligos, Leviathan, Paimon

🧡 Kids propaganda! | Mini series

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10

🧡 Headcanons & requests: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

🧡 My MC

WHB MC Shuffle

🧡 Rules

🧡 Draw list

🧡Fics - coming soon!

[jadedwolf18-blog]

Joke’s on You!

Hi! Don’t shoot! I have gifts!

I put Jokes on You on AO3 so you can find the full fic there, if this is the first time seeing this fic, otherwise you are welcome to try and find my original chapter posts by combing my Blog Archive. Here’s the latest two chapters if you’re up for if you’re up to date. Otherwise I recommend clicking the link to get all the chapters in on place!

Ok, enjoy you Beasties(affectionate)!

🤍🖤💚💙💚🖤🤍

Chapter 8: Bats and Stalkers

Red Hood watched as his newest subordinate flittered around their current base, the kid had shown up two weeks ago and had slowly integrated themself into his gang. Hood still didn’t know if he should trust the kid or not but other than a strange buzz whenever they were near, he had no reason to mistrust them. The kid was… strange but seemed to genuinely want to help despite having admitted to practically stalking him for weeks before approaching. He huffed as he thought over their first encounter.

*****

Jason sighed as he leaned back, legs dangling over the edge of the abandoned theatre's roof. It was a slow night and the semi-peace had him on alert, calm in Gotham almost never bode well for anyone. He'd removed his Hood, Domino in place as he looked over Crime Alley, smoke trailing from his lips as he took a drag from his cigarette.

The usual Gotham smog clouded the sky, obscuring the stars from view. It was nearing early morning when a scuff from behind had him instinctively grabbing his guns as he got to his feet and spun around to face the intruder. Pausing to take in the figure in front of him. They had their hands up in a show of peace and remained calm under hoods scrutiny. "who are you?"

Instead of a verbal answer, they slowly began to sign. "I want to join you. I'm new in Gotham, been following the bats and rogues the last few weeks. Thought my skills and goal lined up best with yours"

'Huh, that's knew.' Jason leaned down to pick up his Hood and put it on before replying. "Why'd you think that? If yah know who I am, what's your goal?"

The kid? they looked about Duke or Tims age, not that he could tell much from the full head and face mask they wore. Similar to Black Bat. 'A copy cat?'' He took the chance to look them over more thoroughly as he waited for a response. Their outfit covered every inch of skin and was mostly black with thin hacker green and screen blue lines running along the seams and crisscrossing their chest, almost resembling the motherboard of a computer, the area covering the eyes glowed faintly and was the same screen blue, there was also a neon red X over the mouth area that looked to have been painted on rather aggressively over a silver grin.

The boots they wore were strange, they were similar to Nightwing's skintight suit but in place of the thin flexible soles, they had thick heavy silver platforms that resemble combat boots. 'how'd they sneak up on me in those?' he wondered. Tucked into the boots was a pair of loose cargo style pants, held up with a silver belt. The top once again bore resemblance to Nightwing's skin tight suit with the sleeves continuing on to cover the hands, each finger tipped in silver claws.

Movement from their hands caught his attention, he paid keen attention as they signed. "1-Personal investment in taking down the Joker. 2-Need help, you were the best bet in letting me get my shot, others would try talk me out of it. 3-Don't feel like being a Rogue. 4-I'm good at gathering info unnoticed."

They let their hands drop to their sides but kept them in sight, head cocked to the side as they waited for a reaction. Hood thought it over. "Prove the last one and I'll let you in on a trial run. Once you do that we can go over house rules and the types of jobs you'll get."

Jason had fully expected the kid to agree and leave to gather information on some gang or something. He was not expected for them to slowly reach behind them and pull out multiple folders, from seemingly nowhere and toss the stack onto the floor between them. Giving them another once over, he saw nowhere they could have possible hid the stack. Looking from the stack to the kid in question, he tilted his head in silent inquiry. They gat the message and began to sign. "That's all the info I gathered on the other Bats during my time observing them, as well as information I gathered on various Rogues and factions in Gotham"

Jason's brow rose under his hood as he slowly moved to pick up the files. flipping through the stack, he could feel his brows clime higher and higher as he did before farrowing when he got to the folders on the Bats. The files were incredibly detailed, describing each of their patrol routes, rotations, preferred routes, habits, favourite rest stops and they even went into detail on their relationships and who paired best with who for fights and recon missions.

He glanced up at the kid, who was currently staring up at the smog filled sky. 'I'll have to leave soon, the sky is already started to turn pale.' He quickly skimmed through the rest of the files, almost snorting as he came across a picture of Nightwing face planting a window at Wayne Enterprises Tower. 'It's a good thing Bruce had all the windows reinforced'. His humour quickly turned into a scowl when he came across a picture of Red Hood dangling from his ankle after being caught in a trap set by Spoiler. "What's your plan if I say no?"

"Black Mail you into letting me join." Jason's brows shot up at that.

"And if that fails?" Jason was curious, what would this kid do?.

"Help you any way. You just wont see me." Jason resisted the urge pinch the bridge of is nose.

"Fine Kid, I'll let you in for a trial period of a month, if you double cross me in any way you're out. Got it?"

Jason received a nod and salute from the kid. "Alright, come here tomorrow at 9pm and I'll lead you to the warehouse we use for debriefs. We'll start on one of the gangs we've been onto for awhile, you got some good tips here. From there we'll test your skills. Now, What do I call you kid?"

"Not a kid. 18. You can call me Hex." With that the kid stepped back, spun and made a running leap to the next roof top. Quickly disappearing into the distance.

"Hex, huh." He'd have to keep an eye on them, they were good, if they could keep tabs on the Bats without being caught. he bit his lip as he looked through the files again until he found the one on Black Bat. 'I really hope this kid doesn't turn out to be a budding Rogue... this is Tim level of fuck all stalking and the fact they manage to make a file on Black Bat... She hadn't mentioned anything, so either she felt there was no threat or she did not detect them at all.'  With a heavy sigh, Jason gathered the files and stuffed them in to the bag he used for collecting shit from the dealers or thugs he came across during patrols. Stretching out, he slung the bag over his shoulder and made his way down to his bike. it was time to get back to his safe house and sleep before tackling whatever the hell that encounter had been.

*****

Danny yawned as they stretched out on their couch, it had been two weeks since they got themselves an in with Hoods gang, things were going well so far. They were still doing grunt work being a runner, but Danny found it fascinating. It reminded them of watching his sperm donor's operations but at the same time it was the complete opposite. Where before they were always wary, now they were at ease and confident in their safety. Back then there was always screams, crying and fights in the background, with the current Red Hood? There was a camaraderie, a deep understanding that they work to help those in Crime Alley.

Hood ruled by respect, fear and protection. It settled something in Danny to see the Red Hood title so far removed from their childhood memories. It was also a surprise to find that Red Hood was the source of the Angry/Hurt tugging they had felt here and there since entering Gotham. Red Hood was a Revenant, a sick one at that. Danny had slowly been filtering the corrupt ectoplasm via proximity and was happy to feel the Anger slowly drain away. They couldn't do much about the other emotions but the Anger was defiantly a direct result of the corruption.

"Oomph!" Danny's thoughts were interrupted by a weight landing on their back. "Hello to you too. Why are you trying to suffocate me, this fine afternoon?"

"I Know" There was something smug in her voice.

"Know what?" Danny gave a half hearted attempt to dislodge the Little Shadow but she only readjusted and they gave up with a huff.

"Hex." Danny stiffened and made to sit up, Cass easily slid off them and sat next to them.

"How?" Danny observed her, she was calm and didn't look or feel upset, they were rather confused about the Happy/Smug/Mistchief she was unknowingly giving off.

"Was following Red Hood, He was acting strange. Good strange but strange. Saw Hex use Sign for Me. Only you use Swan sign but Hex used Swan and Hood say Black Bat!" She really looked proud of herself. They had figured out the Bats were the Waynes almost immediately after seeing Nightwing do a quadruple flip and Black Bat's Liminalty gave her away as Cass.

"Ok, fine I'm Hex... What now?" They looked at her curiously. 

"Keep secret. Not tell Bats, yet." Danny watched as she seemed to hesitate before continuing in sign. They froze as they watched her hands. "Bats found the Ecto-Act, Big bat is not happy and is investigating how no one found it before. He also wants to know why he was not told and if calls to the Justice League was made."

Danny sighed and flopped back into the couch. turning to look at Cass they decided to tell he the parts of their story they left out the last time. Seems help was coming sooner than they expected. This changed a few things but over all? It was good. They felt Cass snuggle into their side. Danny glanced at her and smiled before grabbing their phone and ordering takeout. Seems they were having a stay in day. They might ask for the nigh off from Hood if Cass doesn't have patrol, they could watch movies and dance. Yeah, that sounds good.

Chapter 9: Stalker meet Stalker

Hex hid in the shadows, ever observant as they waited for their chance to make an appearance. During their observation and information gathering, in order to guarantee a way into Hoods gang, they had noticed the source of the main reason they were in this Cursed city was coming from the Red Bird. So every chance they got, Hex would go out and follow the Red Bird to figure out if the tugging was coming from him specifically or from an object he was carrying. The Red Bird was currently wrapping up an attempted robbery. Hex leaned back on the ledge, rubbing a hand over their chest where they knew their core rested. The tugging was more frantic now that they were so close to figuring it out. A click got their attention and they realised all the thugs had been secured and the Red Bird was getting ready to continue his patrol.

'There!' Hex jumped to the next roof, landing just as Red Robin swung over the ledge. Hex watched as the Bird paused and settle into a well hidden ready stance as he took notice of the fact he wasn't alone.

*****

"Who are you?" Tim kept his focus on the unknown as he subtly clicked the alert on his belt. It would let the others know he had encountered an unknown but to hold back until they are confirmed to be hostile. The unknown tilted their head to the side as they slowly lifted their hands, Tim watched as they began to sign.

"They call me Hex. You have something I've been looking for." Hex leaned against the large vent, hands still visible.

Tim waited but when they didn't continue, he shifted into a more relaxed stance. "And what would that be?" 

Tim watched as they slumped slightly, giving the impression they were sighing. "I don't know."

"You don't know?" Tim raised a brow at that. "Then how do you know I have what you want?"

Hex straitened a little before signing. "Something... Something lead me to this city, something was tugging me here. If it wasn't for that feeling, I never would have stepped foot in this Cursed City. But... certain circumstances left me a lot of free time and the tugging grew near painful. So, I followed it, it lead me to this city, it lead me to you. I had no idea if it was an object or a person." Tim watched as they stretched and straitened fully, shifting to face Red Robin straight on. Tim tensed, as he straightened up himself. "Now standing so close, I can tell the pull is coming from you, you directly, not something on your person. Now, I'm left with the question. 'Why?'."

Tim flinched at the sudden sound of Hex's voice. It was distorted and sounded like it was overlayed by static. He was quick to fall into a more ready stance. "So what now? You going to try capture me to figure it out?"

"No." Red Robin watched as Hex took a step back. "I know what, or rather who, the pull is coming from. Now, I need to figure out Why and How but it's clear you know nothing about it."

With that Red Robin watched as Hex flipped back and over the edge of the roof. Tim gave chase slamming into the roof top barrier and peered over the edge but there was no one there. Hex had vanished. A click from his comms had him snapping to attention. Tapping his comm once he connected to the private channel. "Red, Report."

"The unknown has left, they are apparently in Gotham because something lead them here. They were following it and, according to them, it lead them to me. They don't appear hostile, just someone searching for answers." Tim unlatched his grapple hook. "I believe it would be best to observe but do not engage in case that changes."

"Hn, can I leave this to you Red? Or should I put one of the others on this?" Tim took aim at the next roof. 

"I'll be involved either way." Tim shot his grapple. "But I'll take a back seat on this one, do the paperwork and research, if they make contact again, then I'll put it on a higher priority. O.G.J.J. takes precedence."

"Don't push yourself Red. I'd rather you stepped back from anything involving the Joker." With a tug to insure it was secure, Tim stood on the ledge and swung through the Gotham night, landing on the buildings gravel top. 

"I know B. But it's my case, I'll see it through." Silence fell on the comms. Aim, shoot, check and fly. Red robin soared though Gotham, watching out for any petty crimes or signs of trouble as he did a final lap of his patrol route.

"We're here, I'm here if you need help. Don't forget that Son." The Comms clicked signalling Batman had switched back to the main channel.

Tim's breath hitched as he drew in a deep breath. "I know Dad, I know."

Tim shook himself before making his way through the city and towards his bike. His thoughts on his current case and the new mystery. It would seem he'll be needing a new Pin Board.

*****

Danny narrowed their eyes as they watched the Red Bird fly away. Their Core gave a particularly hard yank as they watch him disappear behind the taller buildings. 'Just what is your connection to me Birdie.' Danny sighed as he thought of just Who the Red Bird is behind the mask. Slinking further into the shadows, Hex vanished into the night. 

*****

"And just where have you been?" His tone was light but the hint of accusation was clear in Hoods voice. Jason watched as Hex slipped into his office and made themself comfortable on one of the couches, stretching out like a particularly satisfied cat. Giving the kid a once over, he gave a mental nod of satisfaction, noting they had no visible or obvious injuries. The kid sat up and began signing.

"Here and there, I got the information you wanted." Hex once again pulled a file out of nowhere and tossed it at him. Jason caught it and was quick to open it and go over the information. Remnants of the Black Mask gang had been seen gathering recently and Jason didn't feel like waiting for them to become a problem. 

"What else were you up to?" Jason looked up from the file to pin Hex with a look. Though the Hood hid it. Hex sat up and pulled their legs up to sit cross-legged, staring right back at Red Hood.

"Bird watching, the red one has caught my interest, seems he has a connection to what I'm looking for." Hex sighed and slumped back into the couch. "After observing him and having a little chat... I have an idea as to what it is but not the how or the why he is connected."

"Whatever it is, it's not gonna cause trouble or put the Bird in danger." It wasn't a question, the threat was clear.

"I don't know. I hope not but with the way my life is going..." Jason observed the way Hex had hunched in on themself. The kid was good at what they do and Jason new the kid truly wanted to help more but something was haunting them, following them from wherever they came from. Jason waited for them to continue. "I have a few theories but I'm not liking any of them or the tapestry they are threading because if I'm right. Then if it weren't for my mother dumping me on my Donor My life could have gone so differently. And I would never have wished my life on another I would have died of guilt if I ever found out."

"Just let me know if you need help, or at least give a heads up if you think things will go south. I may be on the fringes but the Bats and Birds are still allies, nothing better happen ta' Red, yeah hear." Jason turned and headed for his desk, he had plans to make. As he sat down he heard a scuff and looked up. Hex was standing in front off his desk, rocking on their heels. "Ya' need something?"

"I'll be taking the next two nights off, I'll be out of town for a date" Jason felt his brow raise at that. The kid has partner? Huh, would you look at that.

"Oh? Where ya' goin' and who's the unfortunate soul?" Jason smirked at the offended huff he received from the kid.

"1st, None of you business Boss and 2nd, Black Bat." Before Hood could react, Hex had vaulted over the couch and slipped out the door. By the time Jason had gotten up and to the door, Hex was gone.

"Get back 'ere ya' Rat!" Hood yelled down the hall, even knowing it would be useless. "Damn Brat!"

*****

Cass paused in her packing when her phone started blasting 'I'm a Barbie Girl'. Tilting her head in curiosity, she set down the shirt she was folding and went to pick it up. Jason? Why's he calling so late? Sliding her finger over the screen to answer, she quickly held it up to her ear, only to yank it back as Jason's voice blasted through. She stared down at her screen until silence returned before holding it back to her ear. "Done?"

"No, but I've calmed down enough to talk." She hummed as she moved back to her bag. "Are you dating Hex?"

Cass blinked, Did Danny tell him? "Yes."

"Okay, okay. So how do you know my informant?" She could hear Jason shuffling things around and the faint clicks of mental against each other. Probably cleaning his guns. 

"Met them first. became friends." She picked up the shirt and another, as she held her phone to her ear with her shoulder, and held it up to compared the two. "Followed them, learned about Hex. Went on date. Been together 3-4 weeks, more if you count hiding feelings."

"Does anyone else know?" Cass thought about it, she hadn't told anyone, neither had Danny, until now, as far as she knew. she shrugged and packed the green shirt. She noticed Danny liked seeing her in their colors.

"No." Silence fell and she went about packing the last of her things, just as she was zipping up her bag, Jason spoke up again.

"They treating ya' good?" She smiled at the very obvious and familiar tone of protectiveness in his voice.

"Yes, very good." She bit back a giggle at the resigned sigh. She fell quiet for moment before whispering. "They are good. Grew up like me, like you. They are hiding but fighting. They are strong."

She could hear Jason's breath hitch. "Okay, I won't ask. I'm happy for you Cass. You think they'll open up more and start interacting with the other Bats and Birds?"

"Yes, they are searching for something. Something will happen but we will be on their side." They were silent for another moment. "They are willing to ask, to trust but need time."

"No pushing, I got it. Bye Cass, have fun on you date!" The line went dead as Cass blushed only for it to deepen as she felt arms wrap around her and fluffy black hair tickle her neck.

"Big brother being over protective?" Cass nod, a shiver ran down her spine as Danny's lips brushed the skin off her shoulder. "You think he'll try to kill me when we get back."

"No. Make you work more." She felt their breath as they let out a groan but giggled as she felt their lips tilt up in a grin.

"It's worth it." Danny spun her around and started leading her into a dance as 'Can You Feel The Love Tonight' began playing softly from her speakers. She let them twirl her around her room before pulling them onto her bed.

"Shouldn't be here." She giggled at their pout. "Brothers, dad, grandpa Alfred and Steph are here. Steph doesn't knock. Dick knocks but will get suspicious if I take too long to answer.

Danny sighed as they flopped back onto her bed and stared at the ceiling. "Hood knows, the others will find out eventually."

"True." She flipped over so she hovered over them."Brothers will give chase if they find you here. Damien is stabby, Dick will hunt. Tim... depends on sleep level. Dad will try to lock me away and will hunt. Alfred will be disappointed."

"So they are fine with you being at my house but not me being in your room?" They raised a brow at her in amusement and she huffed before letting her full weight full onto them. "Oompf! Oi! There’s nothing to worry about. I'll just turn invisible until they leave."

Before she could reply her door was flung open and she found herself face planting her bed. "Hey Cass... What're you doing?"

Cass rolled over and sat up to see Steph in her doorway. "Resting."

"Ah-huh... I was gonna ask if you want to watch a movie and hangout. Since you're leaving tomorrow?" Cass watched as Steph looked around her room, poking at random things as she went.

"Ok, be down now." Cass made a show of picking up the things that didn't make it into her bag, Steph made a sound of agreement and left, swinging the door shut behind her. A minute passed before Danny blinked back into visibility.

"You weren't kidding when you said she doest knock." Cass thew a shirt at their face, which they promptly phased through. "OK, ok. I'll see you tomorrow."

Danny pulled her towards them and places a kiss on her forehead before drifting to the window and fading into invisibility with a wave. She shook her head, a small smile on her lips.

*****

Tim stared at the fifth board, then at the other four and groaned as he slumped into his chair. Hex was an unknown but asking around and looking up sightings he found they're working with Red Hood and showed up a few weeks after Daniel Napier. Tim stood and dragged the new board over to the others. It would seem that Hex was just another identity for one Daniel Napier.

"Just who are you? And what do you want?!" Tim ran his hands through his hair in frustration and sighed. Looks like he's going to be more involved than he thought.

[coloradocharmiegirl]

Chapter 42 here -- New 5/27/24

Summary:

Armie heads up the mountain with his crew, while Timmy focuses on training and figuring out a way to feel worthy of Armie again--intent on making the transition from guest to contributing member of the household by the time Armie gets back.

Excerpt:

Timmy pulled into the parking space at the training center, shifted into park, and turned off the car. He saw the metallic blue key alongside the other keys hanging from the ignition, but unlike the nervous excitement he’d felt seeing the key on the morning of their two-month anniversary, now he only felt nervous. Armie was out there, somewhere, fighting the fire whose smoke filled the air, even here, a couple hundred miles away on the other side of the Continental Divide. The sun glowed orange in the sky through the smoky haze–a constant reminder of the peril Armie could be facing.

Taking notice of the shining blue key once more as he pulled the keys from the ignition, Timmy took a deep breath. It was hard to believe that it had only been four mornings ago that he’d sat right here in the parking lot and stared at the key, convincing himself it was okay to make the leap of faith and move into Armie’s house. And yes, he still ended up in the house, but under such different circumstances.

What a difference those four mornings made.

But things between them would be okay… were okay–maybe even good, if the last few conversations were any indication.

Welcome home, my love.

Timmy could see Armie’s words, penned in elegant script. Armie wanted him in the house, hadn’t stopped wanting that, even in the face of Timmy’s insane assumptions and ridiculous behavior. He’d refused to take his key back, even as Timmy was kicking him out, and thank fuck for that. The universe had granted him a second chance, had smoothed the bump he’d so stupidly built in the middle of their road, and Timmy wanted with all his heart to live up to Armie’s idea of the house being destined to be their home. And honestly, now that Timmy was there, he never wanted to leave.

And if it is to be my home, Timmy reasoned, I need to get with the program and quit being a guest.

Or start from the beginning here

Hi everyone! I'm back, faster than I have been lately (it hasn't even been 6 weeks!) Anyway, I hope you enjoy.

Also, I'd be really grateful if you would do me a favor and reblog. My posting schedule isn't really a schedule and hasn't been for a while. I can use all the help I can get in letting people know a new chapter is up. Thanks so much! 💙💚CCG

[hanafubukki]

Otome games what your recommendation for beginner to try out game?

Hello Ladyxtiger 🌺💙💚

This is a bit hard to answer because it depends on what you mean by otome. Do you mean the traditional otome games or romance games in general.

Traditional otome games are dating visual novel games aimed at girls. While romance visual novels in general can be aimed at anyone.

So I’ll add a mix of them.

(Also a warning, you should check for triggers because some of these deal with religion, mature themes, blood, etc.)

For mobile:

Ikémen Sengoku

Ikémen Prince

Ikémen Villain

Mystic Messenger

Court of Darkness

Obey Me (I prefer the original one but you can technically play the second one without playing the first I believe)

These are romance visual novels on mobile so I have to warn you they are gacha based, especially obey me.

Obey me, I always warn more because it’s heavy gacha and events and seems endless, and with the recent rumors of quality lowering…well, I’ll leave that up to you.

In general, mobile games are more of a “daily” ticket gameplay. You can read a chapter a day for free unless you want to pay. If you’re patient, I would say go for these options.

If you’re not patient, I would recommend console/pc visual novels:

Our life series (an absolute fave, very comfort esque.)

Touchstarved (only demo is out but! Very good premise and potential)

Code realize (steam punk and cute! Has many sequels and route, very traditional otome game friendly. This one was my first otome game and has a special place in my heart)

Collar x malice (my favorite, I wasn’t the same after this otome. Everything about it just hits)

Bustfellow (perfect mix of mystery, murder, and romance)

JACKJEANNE (writer of Tokyo ghoul made this and they announced a sequel. Worth every penny. Not only romance esque but so many other wonderful characters and platonic relationships)

Cafe enchante (😌🫶, Lilia’s Va is a side character. I am down on my knees begging for a sequel and for him to get a route!! His aesthetics fits everything I love 😭😭)

And that’s all I have off the top of my head, if I remember more, I’ll add onto this ☺️🌺

[fountainpenguin]

"I wanna hold you, baby, 'cuz I'm gonna miss you like crazy even if I'm halfway around the world~!" (x)

One and a Half Birds

💙 Read on AO3

🧡 Complete! - 15/15 chapters - 113k words

💚 More Pixels Imperfect fics

A server hub story about Mumbo proposing the soul-eating dynamic to Grian before they roleplay it... and Grian fretting over what might happen when he reveals his soul is purple, not blue like everyone else's in this world.

Newbie pictures, creeper biology, hungry phantom hybrids, Watcher Grian drama, and Minecraft surgery await in this hurt/comfort story of friendship and communication.

ft. platonic Buttercups (Grian, Mumbo, Scar) with flirty Ahasbands (Martyn/Mumbo) working out their post-Last Life relationship on the side. Super pleased with how it came out. Enjoy!

(First 1,000 words below the cut)

One and a Half Birds

Baby Pictures

💙  🧡  💚

The thing about Grian is that he has a tendency to buck his head, throwing it back any time he explodes in laughter. It's better than the feel of his jagged fingernails curling tight against your arm and only slightly easier to duck than his flapping wings. Mumbo leans sideways, clutching his drink near his chest, as Grian does exactly what he always does: which is, of course, all three. "Pfffft! Oh, Scaaar! Wow… I never- I never knew you were such a little nerd back in your newbie days! What is up with your hair? Is that white dye?"

Careful, Grian… I really, really don't want to spill this all over your lovely couch. Grian's actually got a nice flat for someone who rarely lingers here while in Between. Mumbo cups one hand around his wooden cup, catching a droplet before it can splatter on a throw pillow.

"Hey, hey," Scar protests, leaning forward. Grian and Mumbo are on the couch, but Scar is standing with one hand inside his jacket pocket. Grian's still got a finger jabbing at the screenshot in the scrapbook. It probably looks upside-down to Scar. That fits.

The sheepish boy in the picture (who's dangling upside-down himself from an oak branch) is grinning at his own reflection in the pond below. He's a whole lot younger than the Scar standing in front of them now. If you squint, you can see the places he hadn't quite grown into his own skin. The blue wings flapping at his shoulders are smaller, but much brighter in color. Definitely an allay hybrid in a way the vex standing before them isn't.

"You look like Victor Frankenstein."

"That was 700 years ago! Don't be picking on a man's looks. Little Scar can't even defend himself!"

"Little Scar can't do nuttin' to me. I'll talk about his silly hair all I like."

Scar surges forward, scooping Grian behind the back and under the legs. Grian's wings snap out. He hardly has time to yelp before Scar flips him backwards off the couch. Mumbo's brows shoot into his hair. Grian scrabbles with his fingertips, howling and gasping, and Scar springs knee-first on the cushions to grab his wrists. Their pixels slam together, spurting sparks, and Grian (knees already on the ground) tilts back his head. Scar draws in close, breathing slow, until his mouth is practically brushing Grian's ear.

"Long… live… the king."

With that, he shoves Grian to the floor with a thud. Grian doesn't get up, but lies there like a fish, crumpled in his own jumper. Mumbo chuckles.

"Never a dull moment with you two, huh? … You wanna see my newbie pictures?"

That does get Grian off the floor. Scar drops down on the cushion beside him and Grian pops up from behind the couch, arms folded on the back of it. Mumbo flips through the pages in his own book, looking for one in particular he's not even sure he still has. He's only a couple in when Grian slams down his hand, crowing laughter.

"You're younger than me, Mumbo! Why do you look like an old man?"

It's true. He sort of does, doesn't he? Wrinkled forehead, dark and squinty eyes… He's even wearing a bowtie in most of these, though back then he hadn't picked out the three-piece suit he often wears in public now. Mostly white button-ups. Occasionally his full wandering trader robes. Mumbo got his start much younger than Scar did, though he's not sure he can say the same for Grian.

He squints, running his thumb down the corner of one screenshot in particular. Unlike Scar's pictures from his first singleplayer, most of his were taken in the Between dimension. Huh. His home village of Little Sun has changed quite a lot, actually, from what it used to be… but the spawn temple with its little teal and turquoise banners is still the same.

And yet… I still have Double-U and Buzz. His llamas have stayed beside him all his off-server life. Their white wool still flourishes, accented with familiar pale brown spots like chunks of cookie dough in vanilla ice cream. The spots shift around between their respawns, but the long lashes and affectionate headbutts are always the same. Speaking of the girls, he should send False a whisper to confirm she actually did check on them tonight. He doesn't doubt her… His comm just hasn't pinged with an incoming message yet.

"You look like Etho," Scar observes, indicating the red scarf wrapped around his mouth in one screenshot on the next page.

"Sorry- I just can't get over how old and tired you look, Mumbo… I doubt you'd even made it to the Far Lands back then, but this fella already looks like he's seen too much."

"Oh, go on, then!" Mumbo claps the book shut. "Let's see your newbie screenshots."

All the energy whirls out of Grian chest in that moment. "My what?"

"Yeah! Let's do that!" Scar throws an arm around him, double punching Grian in the shoulder so hard, he flashes red. "C'mon, G! Get the book! You know, I half believe you spawned into existence without ever being a newbie account. I've literally never heard you talk about your spawn temple."

"Um-"

Mumbo concurs with a lift of his drink, like making a toast. "Look, you can't talk smack and then leave us hanging, bud. That just ain't bro!" (Is he saying that right? The whole 'dragon bro' bit was always a mite difficult to wrap his head around).

"… Right. Uh, let me just…" Grian pushes away from the couch, sliding his hands into his pockets. Mumbo watches his tongue press against the inside of his cheek. "Right, okay… Let me just ask Two where he last put it…"

Mumbo and Scar let him go, both craning their heads to follow Grian along the corridor with their eyes anyway. Two, BadTime, and Drone are all in Two's room frosting cookies and making party plans. Mumbo watches Grian twist the doorknob, then returns his attention to the book of screenshots in his lap. You know, there are some really nice ones in here. His only regret may be not taking more while he had the chance.

I like to think I grew up nice, actually… And then, Why aren't WE having a party in pajamas? Don't get him wrong, because he loves his suspenders and Scar likes his jacket (and Grian is, well, Grian), but…

"Scar? We're missing out, bud."

"S'cuse me?"

"No pajamas."

"Oh… Next time!"

[Full story on AO3 - Link at top]

[lathalea]

The White Raven 6/9

Yes, it's happening, I'm back with a fresh new chapter of this fic, and I'm so nervous! It took me a while to get here but I hope you'll like the next part of Thorin and Carra's story.

Relationships: Thorin Oakenshield x OC Carra Rating: G Warnings: mentions of injuries/death Author's notes: This is the story of Thorin Oakenshield's quest to find the White Raven, a mysterious creature of legends only few were fortunate enough to see. This is the story of love stronger than time, destiny, and laws of gods and mortals alike. You can find this fic on AO3.

Special thanks to @legolasbadass for being an amazing and insightful beta reader and helping me out with Very Important Things Like Commas and Temporal Issues In Middle Earth😍🤣 Extra special thanks to @legolasbadass (yes, again, OMG, you're so popular! 🤣) and @i-did-not-mean-to for our Silm evenings and very deep discussons that helped me write this chapter 💚 Thank you everyone who showed their support for this story, you motivated me to continue writing 💙 You are the best readers in the world 🤩🤩🤩

Khuzdul: Lulkh - fool Yasthûnê - my wife ’ugbalul ’uhaskhajam - [the] greatest sacrifice Adad - father Tharkûn - Gandalf

🌟 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 ...

Thorin did not know how much time had passed. A few heartbeats? An hour? An eternity? Vaguely familiar shapes circled the darkening sky above him. Ravens? Eagles? He did not know that either. Thinking did not come easily any longer. His thoughts were muddled. His wound pulsed in pain with the rapidity of trickling blood. And he could not move. His foe’s blade had  pierced his body. Some unknown solid weight pressed him to the cold, unforgiving surface. It was difficult to breathe. His nostrils filled with the stench of Orc blood. The icy chill spread through his limbs. 

He opened his mouth, but only a whisper came out before Thorin lost the internal battle with his own body.

“Carra…”

Silence. Bird-shaped clouds in the sky. Snowflakes on his cheeks. Or perhaps tears. He could not keep his eyes open any longer. His mind slowly drifted off into the darkness.

***

“Uncle! Uncle Thorin!” A faraway voice invaded Thorin’s mind, stirring it awake. This voice sounded familiar. But he was tired. Too tired. The darkness beckoned, offering the comfort of oblivion. He needed to rest. Sleep.

“Look! Kili! He is here!” another voice replied, slightly deeper than the previous one. “Under that Orc carcass?” the first voice asked.

“There is so much blood… Isn’t that Azog?”

“Aye! Or what’s left of ‘im,” a third voice joined in. Older. Raspier. 

“Look at his back!” 

“Either that’s Orcrist’s tip or I’m the Goblin Queen! That son of a goat did it! Quickly now, lads, help me take that beast off Thorin. Fili, on my mark, pull!”

There was movement. More voices. Piercing pain. A dull grunt filled Thorin’s ears. Was it his own voice?

“He’s alive!”

“Thank Mahal! Uncle Thorin, can you hear me?”

“He’s unconscious, you lulkh!” “We need to get rid of that filthy Orc blade first. It’s stuck in ice.”

“Slowly now!” A sea of pain washed over Thorin, his whole body stiffening with each wave. But the darkness patiently waited for him and took him in its merciful arms once more.

***

“He’s still breathing!”

“Thorin, wake up! Wake up, ye lazy bastard!” someone growled straight into his ear. “Damn it!”

“Dwalin, look, we stopped the bleeding.”

Those voices again. Pulling Thorin back into consciousness. Into the pain and emptiness.

“Let’s finish dressing his wound and then we’ll take ‘im to Oín,” the growling one said. 

“What’s that, Fili?” the young, familiar voice said. “Where?” “Over there, by that pointy rock on the other side of the river.” 

“Looks like a dead Warg to me,” the one very close to him rasped out. A pair of hands kept on doing something to his chest. It hurt. He wanted it to stop. 

“Too small for a Warg, Dwalin. It’s… by Mahal’s beard!”

“Where are you going, Fili? Wait for me!” The first voice sounded irritated.

A sound of hurried footsteps. Iron-heeled boots against ice. 

“Those two can’t sit in one place in peace if their life depended on…” the raspily-sounding one grunted. “I tell ya, Thorin, when ye’re better, we’ll send them on guard duty. First morning shift for a month. That’ll teach ‘em!”

Somehow, it made Thorin want to smile. But now, even smiling hurt.

“It’s a raven! So big! Look at its wings! Why are you staring, Fili?” the youthful voice reached his ears again.

“I think it’s… the White Raven.”

“What?! It’s just a fairy tale!” “I’ve seen this raven before, Kili,” confidence rang in the second voice. “I think it followed us on the way to Erebor. It helped me fight off a Warg-rider in the Misties just before the eagles came.”

Thorin took a reluctant breath. His heartbeat thrummed in his ears. 

“Whatever it is, it doesn’t look good. There is so much blood… Is it dead, Fili?” “Let me see… That’s a nasty wound.”

Thorin’s muscles tensed. He wanted to open his eyes. He wanted to speak. But his body didn't want to obey.

And then he heard two gasps at the same time.

“What’s happening?”

“Do you see it too, Fili?”

“It’s… it’s magic!”

“No, it’s a shapeshifter!”

“Look! Look!”

“A woman?!”

Both voices intermingled in Thorin’s exhausted mind, making less and less sense. He needed to act. He needed to… He breathed in. The air smelled like snowdrops.

“Thorin! Ye’re back! And here I was thinkin’…” A tattooed forehead and a bushy moustache appeared before his eyes. “Stop squeezing my hand so hard!”

“Carra…” Thorin managed to rasp out. He could barely keep his eyes open.

“What are ye sayin’?” Dwalin demanded.

“Help…. her…” He tried again. “She is…” “What? I can barely hear ye.”

 The last wisps of strength were leaving him. He could feel the darkness beckoning to him once again. “Yasthûnê…” Thorin articulated slowly. “My… wife.”

***

Warm rays of sun gently caress Carra’s cheek, and she enjoys the sensation for a short while before opening her eyes. It takes her a moment to adjust to the bright light. She lays on soft ground, the strands of her silver-white hair interlacing with the lush green blades of grass. A multitude of colourful flowers adorns the meadow around her, their sweet fragrance wafting through the air, intertwining with the lazy buzz of bees. She rolls onto her back and stares at the perfectly clear blue sky above. Then she takes a deep breath. A distant echo of pain rings out in her mind, but there are no bruises or wounds on her body. 

When a puffy white cloud drifts into her blurred field of vision, Carra wipes off the wetness from her cheeks, stands up, and looks around. The endless meadow seems to stretch for miles in every direction. A soft breeze kisses her face, bringing the faint sound of water lapping against a distant shore. She follows it, and soon, a sparse grove of trees appears in front of her. Beyond it, she sees a stream, its silvery current sparkling in the sun. For a brief moment, an orange butterfly dances just above her nose and then flies off towards the meadow behind her. Carra’s eyes follow its flight when a curious harmony of sounds draws her attention back to the stream.

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Tap-tap. Swoosh.

It seems to be coming from across the stream, and Carra decides to find its source.

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Tap-tap. Swoosh.

As she walks through the grove, she encounters a young doe nibbling on a nearby shrub. It glances at her curiously and then trots away, as if deciding that Carra’s presence is disturbing its meal. 

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Tap-tap. Swoosh.

Carra walks on, her bare feet sinking into the silky soft moss, step after step, until she finds herself at the edge of the grove. The stream is only several steps ahead. Its murmuring waters bring a hum of voices.

Tap-tap. Swoosh. Ta-tap. Ta-tap. Tap.

An irritated sigh.

“Another broken thread?” A warm, feminine voice asks. It makes Carra think of spring in full bloom.

“Too many of them. It seems like another busy day for my husband.” Another woman speaks, her voice as melodious as the nearby stream.

“And you? You have been weaving since dawn,” the first one says.

“This pattern grows ever more complicated. It changes much too often for my taste these days.” The other woman sighs again. “Tell me that at least your work bears fruit.” “Some of these seeds refuse to sprout. The taint is spreading. I feel it in the earth.”

“The Fallen One is regaining his strength,” a third voice joins in. Deep and resonant. “I see his traces beyond the veil.”

Carra takes a careful step forward and focuses all of her attention at the opposite side of the stream. There, a garden of breathtaking beauty blooms before her eyes. Within it, she notices three silhouettes, the owners of the voices she hears. At first, their appearance seems similar to Elves, but soon after, Carra quickly understands her error. They are taller, their posture and movements are even more graceful, and there seems to be an otherworldly glow about them. Whenever she tries to look up into their faces, Carra has to squint—not only because of their radiance but also because their features seem to be ever-changing, fluid, like water in a mountain stream. Each of these noble figures is clad in finely ornamented robes that sway slightly when the same gentle breeze that brought her here plays with their hems.  

One of the ladies kneels on the ground, ignoring the dirt stains on her garments. Their fabric is as green as her eyes. Her right hand rests over the brown, freshly turned soil and wisps of chestnut hair fall over her eyes. The other lady, her hair wavy and black as night, sits by a strangely-looking wooden frame with numerous threads attached to this elaborate contraption. Their colours form an intricate, multi-level pattern that seems to grow—bloom—in all directions in Carra’s eyes. She immediately feels dizzy and has to look away. Then her attention focuses on the third figure that  joined the others a mere moment ago. A strapping man, his aspect equally stunning as those of his two companions, strolls towards them, his movements measured and dignified. As far as she can discern, he is clean-shaven, unlike Dwarves, and his long, white hair flows freely down his shoulders. In his hands, there is a silver jug, its surface glistening in the sun.

“Even though you bring morbid news, you are a welcome sight, brother-in-law!” the black-haired lady says, clasping her hands and moving away from her loom. “May I offer you some refreshment?” He bows reverently to his companions, and before they respond, he fills three silver cups with the contents of the jug.

Carra licks her parched lips.

“The sweet water from your fount!” The Green Lady stands up graciously and takes one of the cups. 

“I know how fond you are of its taste.” The man’s hair dances in the wind as he speaks. An orange butterfly flutters among his flowing strands. “You come bearing gifts but it is not why you are here.” The Weaver looks into his eyes.

“I have simply come to admire your weaving skills,” he offers.

“Dear Dreamer, you are curious about my winged children, are you not?” The Green Lady gives him a nod.

“It is only natural,” he refills her cup. “Some of them bear our blessing, do they not?” “Indeed they do.” The Weaver approaches him with her cup and states, “How interesting that you chose today of all days.”

“My visions are blurred. Inconclusive.” He stills, gazing up into the sky, and then turning his attention back to the two women. “Tell me, have our gifts to them remained a blessing or have they rather turned into a curse?”

The Weaver sits back at her loom and looks closely at the glistening fabric; her fingers run along some part of the pattern hidden from Carra’s sight. “Your children have been fulfilling their duties well. Although the youngest one tends to make my work a tad more challenging.”

“The youngest one?” the man frowns.

“The one with  wings dusted with silver.” The Green Lady takes a sip from her cup, her features schooled in a neutral expression.

“Silver? That certainly explains quite a bit. Your husband and his experiments…” The Weaver shakes her head. “Why now? Why this one?”

“I truly cannot say.”The Green Lady gives her an enigmatic smile and takes another sip. “But perhaps you would rather see her for yourselves.”

“Perhaps we would.” The Weaver’s fingers hover above the countless threads of her loom while the man nods. The butterfly lands on his shoulder, folding its orange wings.

“Very well. She has been listening to us long enough,” the Green Lady says, taking a look at the dark patch of planting ground under her feet. “Come, child.”

It takes Carra a blink of an eye to realise that she is not standing in the grove any longer. She gasps and blinks twice, but her eyes do not deceive her. Now she faces three luminous beings—in their garden across the stream.

“Great Mother!” she whispers and falls on her knees in front of the lady clad in green, bowing her head. In the presence of these great figures, blinded by their magnificent splendour, she feels like a feeble, featherless fledgling that fell out from its nest.

“Rise, Carra,” the Green Lady addresses her softly, and Cara does what she is told. “Do you know why you are here, my child?”

“I…” she croaks faintly, unable to stop staring into Great Mother’s incandescent face. A kaleidoscope of images fills her mind. The freezing ice. Thorin’s face when he notices her and his widened blue eyes. The Pale Orc, his teeth bare, with his blade pointed at her mate. Her bloodied talons clawing at Azog’s face. And then—darkness.

“I have died.” She hears her own voice. 

In a blink of an eye, the images are gone, dispelled like a wisp of smoke on the wind. Only the orange butterfly swirls around her head.

“Do you know, child,” there is a frown on the Weaver's face when she turns to Carra from above her loom, “how thin these threads are? How delicate? Even the slightest whiff of wind can change the pattern—or destroy it as if it was a spider’s net.”

“I have only tried to protect the pattern,” Carra swallows, feeling three pairs of eyes on her.

“You have saved some vital parts of it, that is true, but I hear that you also left us with tangles in the weave,” now her life-giver speaks, her eyes glistening like emerald waters of a fathomless lake.

“Forgive me, Great Mother. The line of Durin had to stay unbroken. I did my best. But I have failed,” Carra hears her own trembling voice. “Darkness clouded my dreams…”

“And so you staked out your own path, Silver One,” the Weaver speaks as if to herself, patting her index finger against her lips in reverie. “Which left us with all those new thread combinations.”

Then she exchanges a glance with her companions, and the man called Dreamer speaks.

“See for yourself,” his eyes, grey like a wolf’s fur, rest on Carra. First, he raises his eyebrow but then motions her towards a small rock basin. She can swear that this object has not been there a moment ago. He takes the silver jug and fills the basin with a narrow, glistening stream of water. The orange butterfly dances above it and then rises above their heads. The water’s surface resembles a mirror, and Carra’s eyes are drawn to the movement she seems to see in its depths.

Countless veins of silver run through coarse stone walls of a cave, glittering like gossamer strands that cover foliage at dawn, but instead of dewdrops, tears flow down from a Dwarf-woman’s cheeks, following the crevices of her wrinkled face. She wears a crown of snow-white braided hair and a dark blue robe with golden ornaments. In her weatherworn hand, she holds a piece of parchment with a green, rectangular seal at the bottom. Beside her sits a slightly hunched elderly Dwarf with bushy, grey whiskers and rows of faded tattoos on his bald head.

“Now we are the last ones, Dwalin,” the Dwarf lady sobs. “My boys… My brothers… And then Balin… Dain and his son… Gone.”

“Aye,” the old warrior gently closes his hand over hers. “But they will not be forgotten.”

“Gone…” Carra’s lips tremble as she stops herself at the last moment from touching the water. As she moves her hand back, a curtain of ripples falls over the image, changing the scenery.

The image of the familiar green and black shape of the Great Gate of Erebor fills the rock basin. An army of Dwarves rides to battle on their war rams, led by the King Under the Mountain. Carra recognizes his blade at once. Orcrist. It is Thorin! She gasps. The Raven Crown graces his temples frosted with grey. And his beard has the same colouring as her feathers. Silver-white. As the events unfold, she recognizes them from her past dreams. The Dwarves of the Lonely Mountain and the Iron Hills join forces with the Men of Dale. The battle is long and bloody, but the allied forces ultimately crush their enemies. At that moment, the vision changes. She does not recognize this new detail. An armour-clad warrior rides from Dale on a white war ram. As soon as Thorin sees him, he dismounts, and soon both men greet each other with a strong embrace.

“The city is safe, adad!” The young warrior grins, taking off his helmet. The wind plays with his entangled hair, which seems to glow in the setting sun.

“You did well, Thráin,” Thorin replies, his gaze softening. He presses his forehead against Thráin’s and whispers, “You made me proud, son.”

A faint whiff of wind kisses the water’s surface, transforming it into a flurry of silvery ripples.

By a gilded cradle sits a young Dwarf-woman. Her chestnut hair glints as if enchanted with fire, contrasting with the snow-white laces of her sleeping gown. The mithril beads in her braids clink when she takes her babe into her arms, and a smile brightens her heart-shaped face.

“You will be a king one day,” she whispers lovingly, kissing her little one on his forehead. Quietly humming a sweet lullaby, she adjusts the blanket her son is wrapped in. Carra notices that its hem is embroidered with little black and golden ravens.

A sudden wrinkle on the water disturbs its surface, making the water glitter like diamonds.

A cold, pale sheen illuminates the green marble walls when the King Under the Mountain ensconces on his throne. The source of this light comes from a jewel of unmatched beauty set over the king's head. The golden and obsidian crown rests on his raven-black hair. But the ruler of Erebor, Thorin II Oakenshield, is not smiling. A deep, menacing frown darkens his face. In his hand, he holds a wide dwarvish sword. Blood drips from its tip onto the cracked marble floor. There is no red-haired Dwarf queen beside him. There are no children playing at his feet. There is only deathly silence. And the shadow he casts is that of a dragon.

When the visions finally fade, Carra finds herself staring into the bottomless depths of a pair of grey eyes. She does not notice when the orange butterfly lands on the edge of the empty jug.  

***

“Carra…” her name sounded like a helpless croak. Thorin’s throat was parched.

It took him a while to regain all of his senses and open his eyes. He lay on a large cot in a spacious tent that looked suspiciously like a work of Elvish hands. He grunted. Every single part of his body seemed to hurt. Bandages covered most of his torso, and he could not move his arm without inducing even more pain. 

A louder groan left his lips when he tried to sit up and failed. Something in the nearest corner of the tent moved.

“Your Majesty…” A young Dwarf in a healer’s tunic appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “You are awake!”

“Where…” Thorin coughed. Even breathing drained his strength.

“All is well, my lord. Try not to speak, please. The enemy is defeated. Erebor is once again ours.”

“Is… my…” His attempt at speaking failed once more.

“Your kin and companions are alive and well, Your Majesty.” A mug was pressed against his lips, and Thorin greedily drank its contents. He welcomed the sweet taste of water on his tongue. It probably came from the spring at Ravenhill.

Ravenhill.

His heart sank.

“Carra…? Where…?” he whispered. Every word felt like a struggle.

“Forgive me, my lord, who?” the healer frowned.

Thorin did not respond. He was already asleep.

***

“The White Raven?” Dain Ironfoot’s brow furrowed as he clutched a tankard in his hand. “Here, in Erebor? Are ye drunk, Fili?”

“It’d take more than a mug of ale to make me drunk, Uncle!” the young dwarf protested. “I swear on Mahal’s beard. She fought the Pale Orc together with Uncle Thorin and…”

“She?” said Agnarr, one of Dain’s captains who sat on his left, raising his eyebrows, which resembled a thick, black caterpillar.

“Aye! I found her myself! And then Tharkûn said… well, he didn’t want to say anything about her at first, but I convinced him to tell me…” Kili started with a mischievous smirk, only to be interrupted by his brother.

“He followed the wizard day and night and bombarded him with questions, until Tharkûn had enough,” Fili whispered conspiratorially, leaning towards Dain.

“Well, I convinced him, didn’t I?” Kili huffed. “The wizard said that if not for her, Thorin’s fate would have been very different! You saw that wound of his.” “Aye, if that orc blade went in a bit lower, he’d be resting in the catacombs together with the kings of old,” Ironfoot muttered under his breath.

“Exactly. Besides, before he left, Tharkûn mentioned something about treasure, too!”

“A treasure?” Dain Ironfoot asked.

Kili shrugged in response, “I don’t think he meant the gold in our mountain…”

“Wizards and their riddles…” Dori sighed, pouring himself another mug of ale.

“So ye’re telling me,” Dain demanded, “that a creature straight from our legends appeared out of thin air and fought the Pale Orc with Thorin? And that the White Raven is a woman?”

“And a pretty one, too!” Bofur winked. “That hair of hers…! White as snow!”

“More like silver-white to me,” Fili puffed out a cloud of pipeweed smoke.

“Was she not supposed to be a great bird? Like the legends say?” Dain grunted.

“She is!” Kili nodded eagerly. “I mean, she was a bird, but then she turned into a woman, I saw it with my own eyes!”

“Now she looks more like a Dwarf,” Fili added.

“A raven looking like a Dwarf?” Vari, son of Nari, another of Dain’s soldiers, scratched his bald head.

“And a bit like an Elf, too,” Kili grinned and waved his hand in the air. “She has pointy ears, you know. Ouch, Fili, why did you kick me?”

Dain groaned, “Pointy ears…? By Mahal’s beard, I think I need another mug of ale.”

“Are ye drinkin’ without us, ye sewer rats?” Dwalin appeared by the table, followed by his brother.

“We’re all celebratin’ our victory over the orcs and wargs!” Captain Agnarr pointed at the multiple groups of Dwarves gathered around them in one of the least ruined halls of the Lonely Mountain.

“There’s nothing better for a soldier’s morale than a few casks of the Iron Hills ale,” Balin sat beside him and poured two mugs—for himself and Dwalin. “What would you say about a toast?”

“To victory?” Ori proposed.

“We drank for that last time,” Vari shook his head. 

“If all you said is true, lads,” Drengi, a large dwarf, said, two golden teeth glinting in his mouth, “we should be toasting the White Raven.”

“To the White Raven!” strong voices echoed against the ceiling of the cavern as more dwarves joined the toast with their mugs raised into the air.

“To Thorin Oakenshield, King Under the Mountain!”

“To King Thorin!”

“To the Lonely Mountain!”

“To the Longbeards!”

In the growing racket, Balin turned to Fili and Kili.

“What did you tell them, lads?”

“Nothing much besides what we saw when we found Uncle Thorin after the battle,” Fili said.

“And that the White Raven helped us during the Quest,” added Kili. “Fili, I completely forgot! Remember what Uncle Thorin called her when we were taking him back to the Lonely Mountain?”

Fili nodded, but before he answered, Balin put his hand on Kili’s shoulder.

“That, my boy, is better left unsaid.”

“But Uncle Dain said that the King Under the Mountain will need a queen now and that he has a perfect candidate for Uncle Thorin. How can Uncle Thorin marry her if he…” Kili continued.

“This is the conversation that Thorin—and Thorin only—needs to have with Dain. Do you understand?” the elderly dwarf searched their faces solemnly.

“Aye, Uncle Balin, we do,” Fili reassured him.

***

“...since we moved his majesty into the Mountain. His fever has dropped and the wounds are healing well but he keeps on asking about someone named Carra.”

“Thank you, Nari, you were most helpful. Try to catch some sleep. I will stay with him now.” Words spoken in a soothing timbre of voice reached Thorin through the haze of dreams.

“Balin?” he blinked a few times, trying to chase the drowsiness away.

“I’m here, laddie,” a familiar silhouette in a burgundy robe stood before him. “You gave us a scare for a wee moment there.”

Thorin could not stop himself from smiling at the sight of the familiar face of his old mentor. As he attempted to sit up, an intense spike of pain ran through the left side of his body. The only thing he managed to do was lift his head slightly. At that moment, an additional pillow was placed beneath it. He grunted. At least the Dwarvish beds were much more comfortable than the Elvish ones.

“Carefully now, laddie. No sudden movements. Your foot needs time to heal properly. Your left shoulder and arm were badly injured too. The healers had to use a splint…” 

It was a challenge to focus on Balin’s words, but as the dizziness subsided, Thorin’s thoughts became more coherent. Various parts of his body ached, his left leg felt heavy, and he could not move his left arm—it was indeed encased in a splint, exactly like Balin said—but he was able to take a look around the room. Even if he did not recognize this particular place, he recognized its walls hewn from the same greenish rock as the walls of the old chambers he used to live in as a young prince. A lifetime ago. And now, he was home again. Home.

“Tell me everything. Is Erebor safe?” With a pained grunt, he turned towards Balin. 

“Aye. Worry not, the Mountain is well-protected. Dain is here with his warriors. We are working on making our home liveable again,” Balin replied, patting Thorin’s right hand, which lay on the bed. “You did well, laddie. The corridors and caverns are echoing with stories about the return of the King Under the Mountain who killed the Pale Orc and avenged his esteemed grandsire.”

Killed. He swallowed, attempting to ignore the memories of that fight that came back to him like an unstoppable flood—and of the price he paid to survive. Or rather, the price someone else paid for him. He lost her.

“King? Me? A Dwarf who succumbed to the curse that plagues his house? Who valued hoarded gold over…” With a sneer, Thorin looked away, his voice hollow. “I am not worthy of that title, Balin. Not any longer.”

“Do you remember that audience in the throne room when King Thrór met with the refugees from the White Mountains? You were still a prince at that time.”

“How could I forget? Not only did I break protocol, but also I interrupted Grandfather. I declared that if he would not send his troops, I would fight the Orcs who invaded their homes—on my own. Mother was truly ashamed of me on that day. And Father would not speak to me for a month.” “Ah, the impulsiveness of youth,” Balin nodded. “But you have always had your heart in the right place. Do you remember what I told you on that very day?”

“Life is like a battle. When you fall, you have to rise again and fight. Otherwise you lose,” Thorin said under his breath. He recalled the countless nights when he whispered those words to himself, lying on the hard ground, far from home, when the thought of retribution was the only thing that drove him forward.

 “We reclaimed our homeland thanks to you. You overcame the curse and led us to victory. You have fought and won this great battle, Thorin,” the elderly Dwarf spoke softly.

“I did not. Not alone,” Thorin admitted, unable to look Balin in the eye, his throat constricted. Something ached in his chest, and it was not his wound. “I had help.”

“Indeed. I saw the Pale Orc’s corpse. It bore marks of dwarven weapons… and others that bore resemblance to talons and a beak,” the older Dwarf said.

Thorin did not reply. Not because he chose not to speak but because the right words would not come to him.

After a pause, his mentor added, “Fili claims that he heard a deafening sound, like a large bird’s screech, only moments before they caught sight of you on the frozen river.”

“A screech…” Thorin repeated to himself. Something stirred in his mind; Azog’s hideous grimace, the ice beneath him reverberating with a strange sound that filled the air, and the moment when the tip of Orcrist’s blade plunged into the Orc’s chest. He blinked several times. His own words rang in his ears.

“Carra, no!”

He remembered the darkness that came afterwards. And pain.

 A life for a life.

It should have been him.

Balin’s voice seemed to come from far away.

“... I heard the guards retelling the old legends of the White Raven. And a new tale is spreading through Erebor: a story about a large, white-feathered raven that bravely fought by the King Under the Mountain’s side at Ravenhill,” he said.

Thorin remained silent, staring at the white sheets that covered him. White as ice on that day. White as the feathers in her wings. He felt cold.

Silence seemed to stretch between them like the bottomless chasm beneath the Mountain until Balin spoke again. 

“Help me understand this, laddie.” 

Reluctantly, Thorin’s fingers found the leather band strung around his neck and pulled it from under the blankets that covered him. His old friend’s eyes widened at the sight of a silver-white feather.

“The White Raven…” The words in Thorin’s mouth tasted like ash. “Carra. I have known her for most of my life. After Smaug's attack, she left her nest behind and followed me to the Blue Mountains.” Thorin met his mentor’s eyes. 

“The White Raven... The stuff of legend, eh?” Balin hummed, examining the feather with reverence.

“I am aware of what it must sound like. Legend or not, she is real. She was,” he corrected himself, swallowing hard. “At Ravenhill… Had she not intervened, Azog would have taken my life. She chose ’ugbalul ’uhaskhajam and gave her life for me instead.”

“Thorin… By Mahal’s hammer, laddie, what are you saying?” The feather fell from his mentor’s hand onto the bed. “’Ugbalul ’uhaskhajam, the act of sacrificing one’s life in battle to protect another, is only performed by one’s kin!”

“Or a spouse,” explained Thorin flatly.

Balin looked down at the silver-white feather and then glanced towards the door before speaking again.

“Dwalin told me that you spoke of a wife,” the elderly Dwarf said. “We thought it might have been your feverish mind speaking, nothing more.”

“It was not. She is… Carra was my wife, Balin.” His own whisper sounded hollow.

Balin stayed silent for a few heartbeats and then cleared his throat, as if deciding on something.

“That certainly explains quite a bit—including a very curious occurrence. You see, Thorin, after the battle, we did not find any signs of this revered bird at Ravenhill. Instead, there is a strange woman of mysterious provenance in our infirmary, and the healers…”

“Here, in Erebor?! Alive?” Thorin grabbed Balin’s sleeve, seeing him nod. “Tell me, what colour is this woman’s hair?!”

“Her hair is like this feather: white, dusted with silver,” his mentor replied. “She lives and is under good care. We brought her into the Mountain together with you, but...”

“Thank Mahal!” Thorin rested on his right arm, lifting his upper body as much as he could. “Balin, take me to her at once!”

Swiftly, he moved to the side in an attempt to rise from the bed while a pang of pain shot through his body, sudden like lightning. He fell onto his pillows, taking deep breaths and fighting a wave of dizziness.

“I am afraid you are in no shape to walk, laddie,” Balin rested his hand on his uninjured shoulder. “You are on the mend, but the healers say that you will need time to…”

“Balin! By Mahal’s beard!” Thorin fisted his hand, trying to curb his temper and ignore the pain. “Do you not understand? I need to see her!”

“You are as stubborn as your grandfather,” the elderly Dwarf shook his head in defeat. “Let me talk with Nari and see what can be done. I will be back in a jiffy.”

Balin’s jiffy felt like an eternity to Thorin, but he waited, albeit impatiently.

Carra was alive.

🌟 Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 ... 🌟

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[carlos-in-glasses]

✨ The Wonder of It ✨

By @lemonlyman-dotcom @carlos-in-glasses and @ladytessa74

3 chapters, rated M. Now live on Ao3

To @thisbuildinghasfeelings on your birthday - Lemon, Tessa and I are delighted to bring you The Wonder Of It. (There are lots of easter eggs in there for you. We hope you'll enjoy finding them and reading these stories.)

Thank you, Anne, for being such a lovely friend, cross-stitcher and fandom archivist. We hope you're having the best day!

Fic Summary: As Carlos comes to terms with his relationship with his father, he realises he's ready to become one himself. Over time he and TK begin the adoption process and prepare to meet their baby boy. But even as they settle into family life with Elijah, Carlos knows that the past won't stay there. When his father's unsolved murder comes back to the forefront and puts his son in danger, Carlos will do anything to protect his family. But is it enough?

Chapter 1 by @lemonlyman-dotcom - I Know It’s Love That’s Got Me Feeling Okay

Chapter Summary: A year and a half after their wedding, Carlos and TK are settling into their marriage, and Carlos surprises TK with a trip to a Canadian mountain resort for his 31st birthday. Set against a majestic backdrop of snow-capped mountains, vast star-filled skies and the wonder of his husband’s unshakable love, Carlos realizes that he’s finally at peace with his father’s passing and their turbulent relationship, and he begins to understand that maybe fatherhood isn’t something one ever feels truly ready for. But with his soulmate by his side and their found family at their backs, he feels ready to begin exploring their options.

Read on Ao3

Chapter 2 by @carlos-in-glasses - In My Father's Footsteps

Chapter Summary: It’s Carlos’ 34th birthday, and while TK is determined to celebrate, Carlos is too preoccupied to care. In three months’ time, they will bring their newborn son home – and there’s a lot that needs to be dealt with. As the day passes, the couple fix up their house and work through their insecurities about impending fatherhood. Luckily, they make a pretty good team. 

Read on Ao3

Chapter 3 by @ladytessa74 - Lingering in Happiness

Chapter Summary: As Carlos and TK trade off Elijah's care, as per their agreement, TK returns to work at the firehouse. The day before the tenth anniversary of Carlos' father's murder - unsolved all these years - Carlos takes Elijah to the Reyes ranch for a mini vacation while TK is stuck at work. But even as Elijah plays with the horses, danger looms. Carlos may find out what really happened to his father, but what will it cost him?

Find the official playlist for this fic: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4QbUoYbapr8LX0t5sEl2fG?si=uQJYbI0ZS2Ku7NnPxDHUHQ&pi=u-u7xlJrlwTZGP

Huge thank you to Tessa for opening up her glorious Elijah Verse to Lemon and I to play around in. It's been a pleasure working and conspiring with you both to create this fic for Anne! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙🩵💜

[idontknowreallywhy]

Resurface 36 - Resurface

Story to date in order (Tumblr / AO3)

Previous chapter

A kind of a build-up chapter for Virgil, because he’s decided to be brave and face something but that comes at a cost because I am incapable of letting them be fixed first time around. I also had to apply some very very minor whump to Scott just because it amuses me so to do and he was RIGHT THERE being a doofus and asking for it.

Hesitating to put this one out because there is so much good fic that’s appeared over the last week and I haven’t read it all yet but… I think if I don’t get this one out of draft mode I’m never going to properly focus on the finale chapter and I really need to get that done so I can finally post the art a fabulous someone did for me four months ago when I last thought I was nearly finished 🫣😬🙄

SO… here we go…

💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙

Virgil’s studio was recessed into the cliff which meant it was protected from the elements. It was accessible only via his bedroom and a key coded door meant it was protected…ish from marauding younger brothers.

Although a huge picture window dominated one wall, very useful for those sky paintings, this could and often would be shuttered at the press of the button, transforming the room into a haven over which he had unfettered dominion.

Advanced atmospheric regulation meant he could ensure the air it wasn’t too arid for sculpting or too damp to allow a painting to dry. An objectively impressive array of light fixtures popped out at various levels, the angle and tone of each completely customisable at the flick of a slider (or twelve) on his tablet, meant he had absolute control of what bounced off his surroundings into his eyeballs. And the sound system…

Well.

What would be the point of a soundproof room if you couldn’t occasionally crank it up to symphony orchestra brass section volume. Virgil had played the French horn in high school and fully appreciated the sensation of his ribcage vibrating when the trombones sat behind him got into their groove.

He was safe here.

And yet, he couldn’t settle. Everything felt, off. Scratchy. As if sand had got into a sensitive mechanism and no amount of oil would flush it out again.

Virgil tucked the sketchbook under his arm and got up to adjust the brightness of the overhead spots down a little and nudged the temperature control up another increment. He’d been fiddling with it all morning but couldn’t quite find the precise balance he needed. Turning his back on the easel stool, he sat down heavily on the couch, removed a pencil from behind his ear and glared at the page.

He’d thought it might be a good idea to sketch out a few anatomical poses to build the detail on top of… to save Scott having to hang around while he got the basics done. Despite having shut himself in here all morning, he’d barely got beyond sketching a vaguely humanoid shape. Perhaps he’d got a little more fixated on the angle of an arm than strictly necessary… in fact he’d roughed it out in so many positions his graphite brother was giving off distinctly octopoid vibes.

The real one had been popping in and out all morning, providing coffee and snacks and unspoken reassurance but now was Here and Getting Ready and Virgil was also supposed to be Ready do some Healing. Find Some Closure. Desensitisation. All that healthy stuff. He tried to ignore the creeping doubt as to whether he was, or would ever, in fact, be ready to…

“Can I make a suggestion?”

He jumped a little and dropped his pencil as Scott called out from behind Virgil’s bedroom door. He put the book to one side and crawled under his chair to locate it.

“Virg?” The door opened and he could imagine Scott peering around it, with all the darkness creeping up his neck and around his throat… his heart raced and his breath escaped in a tiny squeak.

Uuuuh… he wasn’t ready. Not ready at all. Maybe he never would be. Maybe this was… maybe he was just…

“Virgil, are you alright?”

Realising he’d frozen with his upper body wedged under the couch and that Scott was inevitably now aiming the Concerned Eyebrows at his behind, Virgil forced out an airy “All good, I just dropped my… my… err…” he huffed a fake laugh to cover up the gap. Stifled the panicky breathing… the word had gone. Just gone. He spread his fingers out, feeling the grain of the wood beneath him, sanded almost-but-not-quite smooth, and focussed on drowning out the whistle in his ears with an inane little tune Gordon was humming earlier. This was transient…

“Pen. I mean pencil. Pencil!!”

The floorboards vibrated a little as knees slid into view just beside him. Navy blue knees. No, not navy. Shade 1620 “Airforce Blue” - he had a tube of it on the easel. He squeezed his eyes shut. Hex 00308F. Several paint tubes, just in case. And some inks. Zero zero three zero eight eff. Navy blue was 000080. The three and the F somehow changed everything.

A hand on his shoulder, unnaturally tentative as they all still were around him. Still. He scrunched his eyes still tighter and tried not to let it bother him, he wasn’t the type to be bitter about being ‘Poor Fragile Virgil best-not-surprise-him-lest-he-freak-out-and-see-things-again…�� ok, he was still a little bitter perhaps. And being not very kind to himself either. He’d tell Scott off for that.

Scott…

He pressed his fingertips into the floor just enough to stop them shaking, just enough to hurt. As his neck and shoulders tensed in sympathy he felt his brother’s arms curl around him, holding him steady, keeping him from bumping his head on the wooden frame. Holding him steady, keeping him from sinking through the floor into who knew where… he dragged in a breath, cursing his vocal chords for the little whine that caused.

“I’m here. What do you need?”

“Pencil.”

The harmonic skitter of light wood rolling over heavy before the pencil was nudged up close to his hand and he grasped it like a lifeline.

He couldn’t open his eyes, not yet. He was terrified he wouldn’t be able to trust what he saw if he did.

He could feel Scott breathe, the weight of his arm. He could hear the repeated “It’s ok, I’ve got you.”

Yet both those senses had betrayed him before too. Only one had not. It had never lied to him, but, quiet and unshowy, it was easier to ignore if the others told him a better story.

Right now, the impersonal fog of the dry cleaning spray Grandma had used almost overwhelmed him. It was a white noise.

A grey noise?

He reached past the grey for something familiar, something safe - something to prove this wasn’t hollow. There was the ever-present scent of coffee on his brother’s breath and the subtle hint of super-shiny gel… no, he corrected himself, he’d upgraded to the pricier ‘sublime shiny’ recently… which he swore was better despite Virgil pointing out the identical ingredients, smell and, even taste… alright he might have taken the debate a little too far but when Scott had poked his tongue out at him Virgil hadn’t been able to resist giving him a sample. For science’s sake.

The look on his brother’s face had been spectacular.

He chuckled and a little of the dread melted away.

He still needed to sneak some down to Brains’ lab to run a chemical analysis actually…

“Virg? You with me, short stu…OOOFFF”

Scott had clearly ducked his head under the couch to try to see what was going on and the resulting clunk demonstrating he’d immediately forgotten that he’d done so vibrated through Virgil’s teeth.

“Scott! Your head!”

“Is fine. Thick skull, remember?”

“The thickest.” Eyes still resolutely closed, Virgil assessed his tone. It was light, but not the too-light tone Scott adopted when trying to conceal an actual injury from a brother… There was more than a hint of worry, obviously, which Virgil needed to Do Something About because he was painfully aware it was him causing it.

“Virgil, are you ok? What do you need?”

“I’m ok. I… yeah. I’m good.” He was. He could do this.

“Alright.” The audible skepticism was perhaps justified but Scott had clearly decided to let him call the shots today.

“I’m not criticising your process here but would it be easier to do the arting somewhere other than under the couch.”

Virgil grunted, which was frankly all the response the question deserved. Then, eyes tight shut he shuffled backwards. The sensitive skin just below the edge of his little finger brushed against Scott’s leg and he shivered as he recognised the fabric. Polywool. Strong but soft. Permanent military creases. More capable of withstanding a worried brother knee-sliding across a wooden floor than the string of ludicrously expensive but patently unScott-proof suit pants that the CEO wore to TI meetings and managed to destroy on a regular basis. But not robust enough for any kind of action. This was dress uniform. Just for show. He’d never have got in a jet wearing it.

But without it he’d never have got in that jet…

The voice of dread in his heart hissed at him. Virgil tried to squash it, but the edges were sharp and tried to steal his breath. He could feel his pulse begin to race again, echoing back through the thumb-tips he had pressed so firmly into the floor. No, that wouldn’t work. He knew this. He knew how to deal with this now. The hand on his shoulder tightened infinitesimally, lending him strength. So, he forced himself to take a slower breath and let himself acknowledge the thought. It was a logical fallacy, he knew that, but as the counsellor had advised he resisted the temptation to be angry with himself for thinking it. He could see where it came from. It wasn’t unreasonable or stupid for his subconscious to reach for something, anything to blame. It just wasn’t helpful. It wasn’t true.

What was true?

He’d come back. Scott had come back. He was here right now, humming Mom’s song as he rested his head on top of Virgil’s and stroked his arm.

Virgil opened his eyes. Brown floor. Black pencil. 1620... Scott’s legs. He raised his head a little, braced for the darkness…

Light blue?

Light blue shirt? Airforce shirt, yes, but not what he was expecting.

Scott interpreted his frown of confusion before he realised he’d formed it.

“I was going to suggest maybe I don’t wear the jacket just yet? I could, I dunno, just hold it or something. Till you’re used to it?”

Virgil realised he wasn’t blinking enough and pressed the heels of his palms into his eye sockets for a moment.

“Right. I… yes. I’m sorry I…” he huffed irritably “This is so ridiculous.”

“No it isn’t.” Scott squeezed his shoulder again. “And you told me not to say things like that.”

Virgil swallowed the impulse to point out that for Scott it was different. Maybe, after all, it wasn’t so different. In the absence of anything constructive to say he removed his hands from his face and made an attempt at a reassuring smile. It was going quite well until his eye was caught by a rush of movement as the hastily slung jacket slithered off the back of a chair and curled into a pile of darkness on the floor. He averted his eyes and returned his attention to his brother’s face.

“So, what do you want to do?”

Here, Virgil drew a blank. Beyond his request to paint Scott wearing the dreaded dress uniform, he was surprisingly unsure about what he wanted to do. He hadn’t got much past the idea to get himself, Scott and The Uniform in the same room and not go mad.

As the heap of fabric continued to noisily suck all the light from the room, he wasn’t sure the latter part was going as planned.

“I don’t… I don’t actually err…” he tailed off but the point had been conveyed.

Scott hummed again, but not in a musical way this time. That was the ‘IR-Commander-is-formulating-a-plan’ hmmmmm.

“We have all day... no need to rush anything. Do you want to go outside for a bit? It’s really nice out there?”

Outside was Scott’s go-to fix. If things were difficult, he did better in the open air… or at least somewhere with a clear view of the sky. Virgil suspected he knew why and tried not to think about that too much. What he did know was that it was when his brother tucked himself away - when he found a hidey hole, enclosed and dark - well that was when little brother’s alarm bell needed to ring. Outside was good.

Yet, Virgil knew Scott hadn’t suggested it for his own benefit this time. It wasn’t for the air but for the sun.

Virgil’s comfort instinct was more towards warmth. The flannel wasn’t purely a fashion choice after all. It didn’t matter where he was - snuggled in bed, melting his face off in the sauna, taking an excessively long hot shower, hibernating on a sun lounger - it was all good as long as the goosebumps were kept at bay. Gordon had long ago given up trying to persuade him to lower the cabin temperature of Two. If Virgil’s skin was warm and relaxed he had at least a chance of thinking clearly about everything else.

Outside in the sunshine sounded good. It had a decent chance of being better than here anyway, in the bowels of the earth where the darkness was closing in and an icy draft scraped across his face.

So Virgil nodded and allowed his big brother to steer him towards the doorway. Where he stood helplessly for a few moments as he realised the hand with which he’d reached for the handle was a white knuckled fist clutching a pencil for dear life… and he didn’t quite seem to know how to put it down. He shivered again.

Scott rushed around behind him, chattering away and collecting whoknewwhat, then took charge of the door-opening and, taking a firm grip on Virgil’s pencil-free hand, towed him up the stairs and out into the daylight.

💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚💙💚

[deepspacedukat]

Hey DSD!

Nonny here, do have a list of any writers you would recommend and maybe even one or two of their fics?

Would love some more reading material and thank you so much if you do end up sharing with me.

Hi Nonny! Absolutely, I do! There are a ton of amazing writers, both here and on AO3, especially for Star Trek since it's such a long-standing fandom. I will absolutely list some of my favorites, but please do not be afraid to explore the tags both on AO3 and here on tumblr, because there are a ton of amazing writers that I haven't encountered yet, and I'm probably leaving some out unintentionally. (I'm so sorry! My memory is like that of a gnat at times!)

Also, on my pinned welcome post under the "Keep Reading" there's a link you can click that will (hopefully) take you to all the posts I've tagged on here as fic recs! So feel free to take a look at that too!

I highly recommend any/all stories by the following authors, and beneath their names I'll list 2-3 of my favorite stories from each:

@creature-of-the-stars - on AO3 here as ToeBeansMcGee

"Weeds Among Stones" <- this is ongoing and brilliant and amazing and i love it 🥰

"Oh, Don't Mind Us" <- this is a oneshot sequel to another favorite called "Be Still" which is a multi-chapter that I adore 🫶

"Keep Your Enemies Closer"; the sequel "Rekkhai"; and the follow-up "Beyond Fortunate" <- just pure perfection *chef's kiss* 🤌

@bigblissandlove1 - on AO3 here as bigblissandlove

"The Raptor's Descent" <- many chapters and it gave us S'Talon and just utterly delicious 😍

"The Assignment" <- a gorgeous oneshot that gave me emotions 😭💖

"Surrender To Me" <- a long oneshot that made me fall in love with a side character 💚

@horta-in-charge - on AO3 here as Horta-In-Charge

"X Minus 1" <- it hab sad, wet-eyed Weyoun, I mean, what more could you want??? 👀💜

"Broken Covenant" <- cannot words enough to praise this sufficiently, so just go read it 🧡

"Fantasy" <- the emotions omfg THE EMOTIONS 😭💖

@starrynightgardens - on AO3 here as jaylens_twin

"Proposition" <- this fic and it's epilogue are gorgeous and I have read it so many times 🫶

"Things Unseen" <- this is an amazing multi-chapter fic and there are so many emotions 💚

"Regenesis" <- I...there are no words, this is so amazing 💜

@leopardcoffee - on AO3 here as Leopardcoffee

"Ashayam, I despise you" <- beautiful, chef's kiss, excellent! 💙

"Maroon" <- it's a wip and a damn good wip 🥰

"On Pause" &lt;- the angst omfg 😭❤️

@crowfootwrites - on AO3 here as CrowfootWrites

"Devotion & Diplomacy" <- as far as I know, this is the first Star Trek fic they've written, and it's an absolutely gorgeous wip 💖

@stay-neurotic - on AO3 here as stayneurotic

"A Prisoner's Needs" <- how do I even words about this??? 🥵💜

The entire "Keevan and the Spy" series <- read the tags before you start; this scratches a very specific itch ❤️

The entire "A Hostage Situation" series <- read the tags before you start; this also scratches a very specific itch 💖

@maybeamultiverse - on AO3 as maybeamultiverse

"A Matter of Security" <- it has young Vreenak, so how could I not adore it??? 💚

"The Vulcan's Limerence" <- Solok/Sisko!!!!! 💙

"War Birds" <- this is honestly such a well-written Letant fic. ngl, the whole fic is fabulous, but the first three chapters live rent-free in my brain and they always will 🥵

@emilie786 - on AO3 as Emilie_786

The entire "Discs" series <- apparently I'm v behind in this series, but I've read the majority of it and I am SO IN LOVE WITH HOW THEY WRITE SHRAN 💙

"Paranoid" <- this is...how do I even describe how much I love this fic??? 🫶

"The Hug" <- god, this is just SO CUTE 🥺

@foreverforty2 - on AO3 as forever_42

"His Eyes Speak" <- read the tags for this one; honestly such an amazing fic! 👀 (have I even talked about this fic here?? if I haven't, then I've been very remiss!) to be completely transparent, I haven't read any of their other works, because (I believe) most of the rest are Star Wars centered, and I don't know pretty much anything about Star Wars.

@indignantlemur - on AO3 as IndignantLemur

"Emigre" <- obviously this is on there. a fabulous fic, excellent, wonderful, stupendous, glorious! if you like Andorians, this is the fic for you! 💙

"The Stars Keep Watch" <- badass Andorian from SNW my beloved 🥰

@sleepycat82 - on AO3 as MeowMeowPowPow

"Grace Under Pressure" <- a gorgeous Letant/Reader/Vreenak fic that deserve a ton of love 💜

"Emergency Surgery" <- istfg one of the few good things to come from PIC is Krinn, and I'm so excited to see where this wip takes his character 👀

"The Wager" <- I literally just saw that this existed and I'm about to go start it. 💚

@ericbogosbian - on AO3 as Vorta_Scholar

"Testing the Effects" <- yes i'm outing myself as a Data smut enjoyer, but this...it's good Data smut 💛

Any of their Sito Jaxa/Vorik works 🫶

"Reprieve" <- omfg this is some good smut that i honestly didn't know I needed til I found it!! 💜

@attention-bajoranworkers - on AO3 as beyond_antares

"Just this once (and then once again)" <- this is a gorgeous wip and it will continue to be gorgeous. Dukat smut, my beloved 💖

"Moments" <- such sweet Malcolm fluff 💙

@schn-tgai-scripted - on AO3 as SchntgaiScripted

"A Good Vulcan Husband" <- this fic has made SUCH A MESS OF ME (in a good way, obviously) 💚

"See A Need" <- this was the first Vorik fic I ever read and I will always recommend it. it has some smut, some feels...i love it 💛

"A Bad Vulcan Prophet" <- read the tags; I...I don't even...I just love it 🖤

@brokenblade-legendarycreature - on AO3 as BrokenBlade

"Exceptional Airs and Dances" <- MORE WIIIINEEE 🍷

"Make It Harder" <- I feel no shame for the copious amount of times I've read this particular Dukat smut 💖

"Spa Service (Relief)" <- I just...yep. 💜

@love-at-first-contact - on AO3 as Graphite_crumble

The entire "Gwemmer" series <- Hemmer and an OC being adorable af. what more could you want??? 🤍

The entire "Vorik and Juna" series <- this pair is just utterly precious. I love them 💛

"Together" <- Vorik/Reader/Taurik fic...omfg I just...I have so many feelings about this 👀

@shibonoku - on AO3 as Shibonoku

Literally any of their Vorik fics. they're just absolutely fabulous 💖

Also, any of their Solok fics 💙

itsthemirrorforme on AO3 (no idea if they have a tumblr tbh)

literally all of them. read the tags first, of course, but all of them!! 💜

WikkityTweak on AO3 (no idea if they have a tumblr)

"Holosuite Number 3" <- This is THE FIC that made me fall in love with Senator Letant 💚 the author mentioned a potential sequel, but they haven't updated since 2016, so...for now i'll simply savor this fic's existence.

"True Weakness" <- this is an awesome Solok fic 🖤

@eyes-of-the-fox - on AO3 as dhiamn_aehallhh

"Small Tales" <- these are gorgeous stories; the Soval/Forrest ones are my favorite 💙

Honestly, all of their Maxwell Forrest/Soval fics are gorgeous 🫶

@the-stags-cave - on AO3 as StagofRomulus - alternately find vem on Quotev here as Stag of Romulus

"Ahr'ehraet Hru'rhaarhno: Season 1" <- half Romulan McCoy!!!!!!! Also McCoy/Spock SCREEEEE 💜

Admittedly I haven't read all of ver works, but vey are such a great writer, I can't help but recommend literally all of those stories!!

[isalisewrites]

Hi Isalise! I'm re-reading through TBG and I wanted to let you know how much your story (and your author notes) mean to me. I have loved this story for a while now and am bad at commenting updating fics so I thought I'd let you know personally. Your story has been a balm to me these past few days I've been re-reading, and certainly was the first read through. I can really identify with the authors notes too, health issues and identity. I haven't quite gotten to the latest updates on chaps yet so I won't comment on anything post-chapter 30 of TBG but just wanted to let you know how much this story means to me and that I'm also sending out wishes to the universe for your best wellbeing (I don't exactly pray). Thank you so much for writing TBG and sharing it with us. On the bonus side, you are TOTALLY giving me the Tomarry inspiration to write! Thank you :))

Oh my goodness, you're so sweet, thank you!!! This story is special to my heart, not only because of the story, but also because of how much I've changed through these years. I wrote the first chapter in a day or two on a whirlwind of inspiration and impulsively posted it.

It's been an uphill journey ever since.

Thank you for your well wishes! They are felt and appreciated.

AND YES, PLEASE WRITE. Write, write, create, and create. That's the beauty of fanfiction. I have loved so many stories and they've inspired me to write. It's a never ending cycle. I truly hope you do write because we all will be blessed and benefited by your words. ❤️🧡💛💚💙💜