#thinking of doing more full works in the future-

[vingtetunmars]

A New Heartbeat

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Joel Miller never thought he'd get another chance at building a family—especially not at his age, especially not after everything.

Tags: Fluff, pregnancy fic, domestic fluff, birthday surprise, emotional feels, warm, age gap (reader is early 30s, Joel is 58-59), set between season 1 and 2, jackson!Joel Miller, soft joel miller. No physical description of reader. No use of Y/N.

A/N: Thank you @dedicatedfangirl2001 for inspiring me! So this is technically a continuation of this fic, but it can also be read as a stand alone. If you have any requests, suggestions, or thoughts, feel free to send me a message. Reblogs are appreciated. Please do not steal or cross-post it on another platform without asking. Thank you.

Word Count: 3.3k

masterlist

You didn’t think much of it at first.

Between the early mornings at the stables and the evenings spent passed out on the couch beside Joel, days had started to blur into each other. Your body always felt tired this time of year—mud season clinging to your boots, cold air snapping at your fingertips even under gloves. You’d chalked the nausea up to bad stew from the dining hall. But when your headache lingered past the usual, when the scent of hay and leather turned sour in your nose, it hit you.

You hadn’t had your period.

You stood in the feed room, half-empty bucket of oats dangling from your hand, the realization sitting heavy in your stomach. The math rolled around in your head, tumbling over itself. It had been… what? Over a month? Maybe more. You weren’t exactly counting days when every morning looked the same—Joel sipping black coffee, Ellie stealing bits of toast, and you rubbing sleep out of your eyes as you layered up for work.

But now, standing there, the silence of the stable around you, something clicked. You set the bucket down on the ground a little too quickly, pressing your palm to your stomach. No pain. No bloat. Just… a quiet sort of stillness.

The horses shuffled in their stalls. One of the younger colts let out a soft snort. You leaned your back against the wall, heart hammering in your chest.

You weren’t sure. But something deep in your bones told you—you already knew.

You didn’t tell anyone where you were going that morning.

Said you had errands to run—needed new gloves, maybe stop by the library. Joel didn’t press. He’d kissed your cheek, grumbled something about checking in with Tommy about a busted water heater, and told you he’d see you for dinner.

You walked to the clinic with your hands jammed deep into your jacket pockets. The cold bit at your cheeks, and every step felt heavier than the last. Not from dread exactly, but from the weight of maybe.

The clinic wasn’t much to look at. Two rooms, patched-together equipment, and a nurse named Carla who used to be a vet before the world ended. She was kind, though, and knew how to keep her mouth shut. You told her you wanted to rule something out. She just nodded, handed you a cup, and pointed toward the bathroom.

You stared at the strip of plastic on the counter like it held your whole future.

Five minutes. That’s all it took.

Carla didn’t say anything right away. She just looked down at the test in her hand, then back up at you, her expression soft.

“Well,” she said, “you’re pregnant.”

The room didn’t spin. It didn’t crash down on you, either. Instead, everything went still—like the moment before a horse takes off into a gallop. Heart pounding, lungs full of something sharp and sweet.

You were going to have a baby.

Joel’s baby.

Carla asked if you were okay. You nodded before you really even felt it, voice rough when you said, “Yeah. Yeah, I think I am.”

The walk back home was slower. Like you were afraid to jostle the news loose, or maybe afraid it still wasn’t real. But your hand drifted down to your stomach more than once, resting there in quiet awe.

Now, all that was left was telling him.

And with his birthday just a few days away, you couldn’t help but wonder how in the world you were going to tell him.

Joel didn’t like birthdays.

He never made a big deal out of them before the world ended, and now… well, now they just felt like reminders. Reminders of what he’d lost. Of how much older he was getting. Of how goddamn long he’d been carrying around all this weight.

He’d never forget waking up on that birthday—the one that split his life into a before and after. Many years later, the world had changed, but the ache hadn’t. Not really.

Still, this morning started like any other. The early light crept in through the crack in the curtains, soft and gray-blue. Beside him, you were curled under the blanket, one arm slung across his stomach, your face tucked against his shoulder. Warm. Familiar. Home.

He didn’t move at first. Just lay there, eyes on the ceiling, listening to the quiet. The muffled sound of someone in the street. A rooster off in the distance. You breathing slow and steady beside him.

You made it better—this day, this life. You had a way of pulling him back from the edge without even trying. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve that, to deserve you, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to take it for granted.

Your fingers twitched slightly against his chest. You were starting to stir.

He turned his head just enough to watch you, that soft haze of sleep still in your features. He found himself smiling, just a little. The lines in his face stayed, though. The ones that came from time and sorrow and holding it all in for too long.

You blinked up at him.

“Mornin’,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

“Happy birthday,” you whispered back, eyes warm and knowing.

He groaned, turning his face away slightly. “Don’t remind me.”

You gave a quiet laugh, but didn’t tease him for it. You never did. You just leaned up to press a kiss to his jaw, fingers brushing along his ribs, gentle and grounding.

“I’m makin’ you pancakes,” you added softly. “Don’t fight me on it.”

He huffed, but it wasn’t real. “‘Course you are.”

He didn’t need gifts. Didn’t want anyone making a fuss. But if the day started like this—your warmth, your voice, your lips on his skin—then maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

Even if he still carried the ghosts, this morning... it felt different. Like maybe something was waiting on the horizon, and he wasn’t sure what—but he trusted you’d tell him when the time was right.

You flipped the last pancake onto the plate, steam rising as you added a handful of thawed berries—ones you’d carefully saved from the last supply run. They weren’t exactly fresh, but they were sweet enough, and they made the stack look a little more festive.

Birthday pancakes.

Joel would pretend to grumble about it, but you knew he appreciated it. The small gestures. The quiet kind of love. You’d learned early on not to make a big deal of his birthday. Not out loud, anyway. But that didn’t mean you’d let it pass by like any other morning.

“Damn, something smells good,” Ellie mumbled as she shuffled into the kitchen, hair sticking up in five different directions, sleeves too long for her arms. She plopped down at the table, blinking slowly. “Is it somebody’s birthday or somethin’?”

You smirked as you slid a plate in front of her. “Could be.”

Joel followed behind her a second later, moving slower, like his body hadn’t quite forgiven him for being nearly sixty.

He rubbed at the back of his neck as he sat down across from her, eyes drifting to the plate you set in front of him.

Pancakes. Berries. A little dab of honey. No candles, no singing—just the kind of breakfast you didn’t make unless the day meant something.

He glanced at you, brow raised.

“You didn’t have to do all this,” he said.

“I wanted to,” you replied, brushing your hand over his shoulder as you passed. “Don’t argue with me on your birthday, Miller.”

Ellie shoveled a bite into her mouth. “Holy shit,” she mumbled. “Are these the blueberries?”

Joel chuckled under his breath, fork already in hand. His eyes lingered on you for a moment longer before he took his first bite. You saw the tension ease in his shoulders, just a little. Maybe the day still carried shadows for him, but right now? With a warm plate in front of him and people who loved him on either side?

He was okay.

You sat down beside him, resting your hand on your lap, feeling the thrum of nerves underneath your skin.

A knock on the door broke through the calm.

Joel looked up, chewing his last bite with a quiet grunt. You stood up to answer it, already guessing who it was. Sure enough, when you opened the door, Tommy stood there with a crooked grin and two hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets.

“Mornin’, birthday boy,” he called past you, stepping inside without waiting for an invite. “You look real good for a hundred.”

Joel let out a groan, dragging a hand over his face. “You had to come by, didn’t you?”

“You think I’m missin’ the one day a year I get to remind you I’m younger and prettier?” Tommy grinned, clapping his brother on the back as he passed by.

“Debatable,” Ellie chimed in, still chewing. “And you missed the berries.”

Tommy’s eyes lit up. “Berries?”

“Yup,” you said with an apologetic shrug, walking back to the stove. “Saved 'em for Joel. There’s still pancakes, though.”

Tommy sniffed the air like a bloodhound. “You spoil this man.”

“Someone has to,” you quipped, already grabbing another plate.

You served him a healthy stack—no berries this time, just a bit of honey and some leftover butter—and slid into your seat again. Joel was watching you, his eyes soft beneath the usual weight. He hadn’t said much, but you could feel it in the way his hand drifted to your knee under the table. Just a gentle touch. A quiet thanks.

Tommy shoveled in a bite and made a loud, satisfied sound. “Hot damn. You better marry her before someone else do.”

Joel raised an eyebrow. “You wanna lose a tooth today?”

You laughed, elbow resting on the table, chin in your hand. The teasing, the warmth, the way Ellie rolled her eyes and asked if she could have seconds—it all made the house feel full in a way you never took for granted.

Still, under it all, the secret sat in your chest like a fluttering heartbeat.

You’d give it a moment. Let them finish breakfast. Let Joel have this calm before you turned his world upside down.

In a good way, you hoped.

The house felt quieter once the door shut behind Ellie and Tommy. The laughter lingered in the walls for a moment, then faded, replaced by the gentle creak of wood and the soft clink of dishes as you rinsed them off.

Joel was still finishing the last of his coffee, sitting back in his chair, watching you. He looked more relaxed now—shoulders looser, lines around his mouth softened. Birthdays were hard for him, but this one… it hadn’t been bad.

You dried your hands on a dish towel, heart thudding steady but loud. You knew you couldn’t wait any longer.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping toward him. “Can I talk to you for a sec?”

His brow knit slightly, but he nodded, setting the mug down. “Somethin’ wrong?”

“No,” you breathed, sitting down across from him, your hands resting in your lap. “Not wrong. Just… big.”

Joel leaned forward, elbows on the table. You reached for his hand without thinking, grounding yourself in the warmth of his calloused fingers.

“I didn’t know how to bring this up earlier. Didn’t wanna spring it on you in front of everyone,” you started, voice quiet. “But I’ve been feelin’… off. The past few weeks.”

His expression shifted—concern flickering behind his eyes, guarded like always. “You sick?”

You shook your head, a nervous smile tugging at your lips. “No. I went to the clinic yesterday. Ran a test.” You swallowed, heart climbing to your throat. “Joel… I’m pregnant.”

The words hung in the air like dust caught in sunlight.

Joel blinked. Once. Twice. He didn’t say anything—just stared at you, eyes wide, unreadable. Then slowly, without a word, he stood up from the table and took a step back, hand resting on the edge of the counter like he needed something to hold onto.

“You’re… you’re sure sure?” he asked, voice hoarse. “I mean—are they sure?”

You gave a soft laugh, heart aching with affection. “Yeah. They’re sure. I’m late, the test was positive, and… I feel it. I know it.”

Joel let out a breath like he’d been holding it for years. His shoulders dropped as he sat back down, rubbing a hand over his jaw.

“I just—I didn’t think—I mean, hell, at my age?” he muttered, almost to himself, eyes wide and almost dazed. “I didn’t think that was even possible anymore.”

You reached for his hand again, thumb brushing the top of his knuckles. “Well… apparently it is.”

He looked at you then—really looked at you. And something shifted in his face. Like the ground underneath him had tilted, but he was choosing to stay standing anyway.

“You’re… you’re okay with this?” he asked quietly.

You nodded. “I wouldn’t have told you today if I wasn’t. I know it’s gonna be a lot, but… yeah. I’m okay with it. More than okay.”

Joel’s eyes started to glisten, and he cleared his throat hard, blinking fast as he turned his face away for a second. When he looked back at you, his voice was thick.

“Thank you,” he said.

It broke something open in you.

“For what?” you asked, voice barely above a whisper.

“For this. For you. For givin’ me a reason to think there’s still more life out there for me than just survivin’.”

He reached out, cupped your cheek with a rough hand, his thumb brushing just under your eye.

“I didn’t think I’d get a second chance,” he murmured. “Not with someone like you. Not like this.”

You leaned into his palm, smiling through the tears that started to slip down your cheeks.

“Well… surprise,” you whispered.

Joel gave a breath of a laugh, then leaned in and kissed you—slow, steady, reverent. The kind of kiss that said everything his words couldn’t. The kind of kiss that promised he would be here for all of it.

For you.

For the baby.

For the life you were building together, one quiet moment at a time.

Sunday dinner was loud in the best way.

Tommy and Joel had spent the afternoon repairing one of the water lines near the edge of town, and both were still rubbing their lower backs like old men. Maria was bouncing little Benji on her knee, spoon-feeding him mashed carrots between exaggerated airplane noises, while Ellie recounted an incident involving a runaway chicken and a pitchfork.

You’d always loved these nights—long tables, shared food, laughter that made the walls feel smaller in the best way. But tonight, your hands kept drifting to your lap, nerves curling in your stomach even though you’d done this a dozen times in your head.

Joel’s knee brushed yours beneath the table.

He glanced at you, gave a small nod.

It was time.

You reached for your glass and gently tapped your spoon against it. “Uh… can I say something real quick?”

The table quieted. Benji let out a soft squeak and tried to grab a carrot off Maria’s plate.

Joel cleared his throat. “We’ve got some news.”

Maria looked up first, brows raised. Ellie paused mid-chew.

You smiled nervously, heart thumping. “I’m pregnant.”

For a moment, no one said a word. Then—

“What?” Ellie blurted, voice cracking halfway through the word.

Joel chuckled low under his breath, his hand slipping onto your thigh, grounding. Ellie set her fork down slowly, blinking like she hadn’t quite heard you right.

“You mean like… an actual baby?” she asked, eyes wide. “Your baby?”

You nodded, leaning closer to Joel's side. “Yeah. Our baby.”

Ellie opened her mouth, closed it, then reached for her water like her brain needed a reboot. “Holy shit.”

“Language,” Joel murmured.

“I’m gonna be a big sister?” she asked softly, blinking hard. And then her face cracked into a smile—wide and kind of watery. “I’m gonna be a big sister.”

Tommy leaned back in his chair and let out a low whistle, grinning ear to ear. “Joel, buddy. You still got swimmers at your age?”

Joel groaned loudly. “Tommy, I swear—”

“I mean, damn! You’re nearly sixty and still makin’ babies? What’s in the water over at your place?”

You laughed, covering your mouth with your hand. Joel muttered something under his breath, but he was smiling, too, shaking his head as Tommy clapped him on the back.

Maria just laughed and leaned her cheek against Benji’s soft hair. “Honestly, I had a feeling.”

Joel looked at her sideways. “You did?”

“You turned down a glass of wine at dinner last week,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “You. You never turn down wine.”

You shrugged with a grin. “Was trying to be subtle.”

“Well, I’m glad you told us now,” she said, smiling warmly. “Benji’s gonna need a little buddy to boss around.”

Benji cooed like he somehow approved.

Then Maria stood and crossed the space to pull you into a hug, tight and full of warmth. Ellie joined a second later, throwing her arms around both of you, mumbling something like “I’m not crying” even though she very much was.

Tommy wrapped an arm around Joel with a playful shake and muttered, “Old man,” while Joel just rolled his eyes and let it happen.

In the middle of it all—arms tangled, laughter echoing, and that familiar scent of home-cooked food still hanging in the air—you felt it.

Family.

Not perfect. Not always easy. But real. Rooted. Growing.

And you were bringing another piece into it.

Dinner had long passed. The dishes were done, the laughter faded into memory, and Ellie had gone back to her room with a final hug that lingered just a little longer than usual.

Now, the two of you were tucked beneath the soft quilt, the chill of Jackson’s night air kept at bay by Joel’s familiar warmth beside you. The house creaked gently, like it was settling in for the night too.

You lay on your side, facing him, his arm already around you. The bedside lamp was off, but the moonlight spilling through the window was enough to catch the faint lines on his face—the quiet, thoughtful ones that only ever appeared when he let his guard down.

He hadn’t said much since the others left. Not out of hesitation, but the way he always got when something mattered so much it felt sacred.

His fingers brushed your stomach lightly under your shirt. Slow. Careful.

There wasn’t much of a bump yet—just the slightest swell, barely there—but his touch was reverent, like he was afraid to miss even a second of it.

“That’s really ours in there,” he said quietly, more to himself than to you. “Whole little person. Just... growin’.”

Your hand covered his. “Yeah. They’re in there.”

He shifted closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your cheek, then just above your temple.

“I keep thinkin’ I’ll wake up,” he murmured. “That this is some dream I’m gonna lose. But then I touch you, and it’s real.”

You turned your face to kiss the underside of his jaw, voice soft. “It’s real, Joel. You’re here. I’m here. We’re here.”

He nodded, throat tight. His palm stayed resting on your belly, like it anchored him.

“I ever tell you how much I love you?�� he asked, voice thick with quiet emotion.

You smiled. “You show me every day.”

“Gonna say it anyway,” he whispered, kissing you again. “I love you, darlin’. More than I got words for.”

The two of you fell asleep like that—his hand over the life you were building together, your fingers laced with his, hearts beating steady in the dark.

And for the first time in a long, long while, Joel Miller didn’t feel haunted by his past.

He felt ready for the future.

[karikitdemonrp]

Kari sniffled, looking into her papa's eyes, tears rolling down her cheeks as she just sniffled and listened. She looked down for a moment, processing what the hero said and gave a nod while her eyes narrowed a bit in thought. "I... Think I get it." She muttered, voice still slightly trembling as she spoke. She looked back at the projection and sighed. The child slowly backed away from Hawks and went back to look at the journals again, one last time.

There she read a few more journals from her mother. A few from when she was pregnant with her siblings.

"Today is September 29th, I gave birth to my little boy Kitearo a few days ago. It's been exhausting but he's worth it. Lynx has been a huge help in taking care of our son. I looked into Kite's future and I saw he was going to have a lot of siblings. Not my first choice honestly. If you asked me five years ago I would have said two or three kids would be enough, not seven. But it feels right at the same time. While I saw his whole life unravel I couldn't help but feel helpless... But a part of me knows it can't be messed with, even though I want to save my son from an early grave. I'll have to wait until all my kids are born to get the full picture."

Kari frowned, figuring out pretty quick that her mother knew the whole time, or at least had an understanding.

"It's Febuary 23rd. Flo and Fino are a few days old now. I got a bit more of the picture since seeing Kitearo's future. They meet a similar fate. It hurts, but seeing them work hard to protect their youngest sister, a little girl with white hair, something isn't adding up. I know I can't stop it but that doesn't mean it doesn't hurt a whole lot."

"It's been a rough few weeks, Shade has been a bit of a handful. Always curious but always quiet which is a bit unnerving. Sure she cries and makes noises but she's more quiet than not. The doctor says she has nothing wrong with her but I still worry. I was able to see into her future. Lynx has his work cut out for him that's for sure. So far I know all my kids and my husband die on the same day, doing the same thing. I can't say for sure where I am but I can make a few guesses. Again that little girl with white hair makes a big appearance. I'll name her Kari. Kari Kana Lee Himura, long name but it looks like it suits her. When she's born I'll hopefully get all the answers and try to write them down."

"Another pair of twins. I'm not super surprised, Lynx had twin younger brothers after all so I think that runs in the family. That and I saw them while looking into their siblings' futures. These two look mirrored, it's kinda cute. I've named them Boom and Beats cuz the symbols on their cheeks are cute music notes. They are the loudest that's for sure, it's funny. I've had so many kids and all of them are so different even though they're under the same roof and have me and Lynx as their parents. I know why they look so different and why their quirks are different, it's a side effect of my quirk after all. But their behaviors and personalities aren't tied to it, I don't think. It's so fascinating to watch them grow and develop... I know I probably only have a few more years to live. I've concluded I die in child birth when giving birth to Kari. I know I'll be leaving behind my family and my friends... But I noted that my nephew is the one responsible for the deaths of everyone, under the control of my sister given his pupils... Something isn't adding up but I'm guessing Kari develops my quirk. If that's the case then she needs to exist. It strengthens our quirk and hopefully she'll be able to help others like I did, in someway. Though that's her choice and I don't want to force it onto her. I'm glad dad talked me into writing that one entry about my quirk, I hope she can read it one day so she can meet me... Well, a snap shot of me. It won't be the same I know but it's better than nothing. I just hope she doesn't hate me or get mad. It's kind of a selfish reason but there's so much going on... I just hope she understands."

Kari sniffled, rubbing her eyes. "I... I don't hate you mom." She whispered after a few moments of silence, hugging herself. "I just wish I knew you." The child gulped and moved to look back at the journal about All of the Above and began taking notes. "But yea, I'm glad grampa talked you into writing about your quirk too... It's gonna help me a lot." She muttered then looked at Hawks. "You think we can go somewhere I can train? I... I wanna try doing this thing mom talks about. I'm not sure if I can get back into that weird mind space thing but... But if I can maybe you can meet my siblings, well a snap shot of them... This is kinda confusing." Kari puffed out her cheeks then went back to writing. "But we don't have to do it today if we can't."

Hawks didn’t speak at first. He just let Kari cry. He didn’t try to hush her or pull her away. He dropped down to one knee so she could lean into him easier, wrapping his arms around her small frame like he could shield her from every painful word she had just read. His wings even curled in slightly, a quiet gesture of shelter.

He held her gently as the sobs came out in waves—her pain wasn’t small, and it didn’t deserve to be treated like it was.

After a long moment, his voice finally came—soft, steady, low enough it didn’t try to overpower her crying but just… sat with it.

“I know, kiddo. I know it hurts. It’s not fair. None of this is. You didn’t get a choice in any of it.”

He tightened the hug slightly, one hand cradling the back of her head.

“But I need you to hear me when I say this next part, okay?” He pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, his own golden ones steady and full of something more than just compassion—it was conviction. “She didn’t die because of you. That’s not how this works. She died for you. And that’s something only someone who loves their kid more than anything in the world would do.”

His thumbs gently wiped her tears.

“Your mom knew the risks. She was a top pro. She wasn’t someone who walked into things blind. She fought to bring you into this world anyway, Kari. That means she wanted you here. She made a choice—and that choice was you.”

[midnitetech]

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[narcjsistx]

the rhythm, the notes, the lights. everything is frighteningly perfect, starting from the perfect time, ending with the fact that the concert is practically over. the screaming crowd is just the proof of how much the sleepless nights made sense, how much this job makes you feel alive even if it exhausts you. in your entire career, this is probably the most important moment, the one where you know you have to shine

the rush of adrenaline that runs through your veins makes you almost forget what you're about to do, unbeknownst to anyone. you want to do it, you have to do it, because you know that otherwise you will lose him completely. the more the guitar melody pushes towards the end, the more you think about what you're about to do, how your gesture could improve or ruin everything you have worked so hard to build

but you're in love, and you know he's too

you turn to him: RIN ITOSHI is focused, precise, no movement is casual. he plays as if his life depends on how he makes the notes come out of his electric guitar, with an anger mixed with adrenaline and the argument you had a little while ago. it sounds like he has to prove something to you for the last time, because he also knows that tonight will decide what your future will be: whether you will continue the fake relationship with the singer of his band or actually tell the world that you love the guitarist of the blue lock. he knows full well that, by the end of this evening and this concert, he will know whether his girlfriend of 1 year has chosen him or fame

your heart beats faster than the speakers that are still playing. your hands sweat, your throat tightens, the microphone between your fingers almost becomes even heavier. you need a very big deep breath, almost as if to find courage in your lungs, because the song is practically over and the audience is waiting for the icing on the cake: the kiss between you and the singer. the crowd erupts as the song ends, as you slowly approach the singer who is already smiling at you, even though he is the first to know that this is all fake

anxiety does not disappear, but it transforms: it becomes energy, adrenaline, truth. you advance briskly, the audience slowly seeming to become one voice. you look at the singer, accustomed to the stares, the attention, the farce that has been going on for far too long. he thinks he's the reason you're there. but that's not the case, because behind him, just outside the cone of light, there's the real reason you're approaching: your real boyfriend, the one who plays like he's only talking to you. he's playing as if nothing could disturb him, until his eyes meet yours: it's just an instant, but enough to make him miss a note. his gaze becomes tense, almost an impossible emotion for a phenomenon like him

"are you sure?"

he leans down, while i cup his face "more than sure" you say, and the microphone on the side of your cheek makes the words echo in the big arena. without saying anything else you take his hand and guide it to your side, to your waist, as if he hadn't already done it hundreds of times. RIN ITOSHI lowers the guitar almost instinctively, as if nothing matters anymore in that moment. the singer, behind him, throws a look full of everything: confusion, annoyance, maybe jealousy, but he doesn't even see it, too busy holding you before kissing you in front of thousands of people. a kiss that doesn't ask the audience's permission, nor apologizes to the stage

you feel the taste of anxiety mixing with relief, your heartbeat quickening as the crowd slowly erupts into another big scream. he kisses with hunger, anger, with all the desperation of those who have waited too long to finally give in

it's a kiss that seems to say: finally.

[artisiumstudios]

I need angst, I need 19 year old Stan and ford timestuck au where they meets their mid 20year old counterparts (a bit before the betrayal and ford hits rock bottom).

Now I have so many ways this could work:

1) Stan and ford (teens) end up getting stuck together and get stuck with Stanford, which leads to both fords having a lot of emotions. Stan looks sick, his baby fat is not quite gone but compared to ford it’s like he’s aged years despite him being 19 and the same age as his twin who still looks full of life. He sees Stan and ford as a child and the guilt that he tried to hide behind anger and betrayal is starting to peak out once more. His twins younger self is covered in new scars and his compared to the loud mouthed brother who always spoke his mind at any given time without any thought of consequences is now eerily quiet, always hanging in the background, trying to make himself small, trying to disappear.

Paranoia oozes out of Stan with every twitch and flinch at the slightest sound, and while not super obvious, he can tell that while ford has gained an inch or so, his body still maturing into one of an adult, Stan — well he isn’t. And while he is hunching Stanford knows that one inch difference should have never happened. Ford is almost the same noticing as much as Stanford except that that guilt comes crashing harder because that’s HIS twin brother looking absolutely miserable, exhaustion etched onto his skin. And the worst part for ford is that Stanley keeps avoiding him (well he avoids both fords but Stan and him are in the same situation so why can’t Stanley just stop his avoidance for one second? Be mature about this! Let ford make sure he’s okay-).

And meanwhile Stan feels super happy that Stanford got himself a good place and that even thought Stanley ruined his life he still made something of himself! Even if it was without him. Because pa was right, everyone was and Stan was only holding ford back

And also for a little curveball Stan thinks his older counterpart is dead. He’s 19 barely scrapping by, he lives in his car, gangs are coming after him, and Stanford hasn’t mentioned anything about his Stanley, and when asked where his Stanley was he had this far away look as he shamefully said I don’t know. That was enough confirmation for him to know that he wouldn’t make past 30.

(He does indeed freak out when Stanley shows up still alive and looking worse for wear)

2)The Classic Stanford gets Stan and Stanley get ford. Except ford is there for the aftermath of either the Tijuana incident, the trunk incident, or the kidney incident. Either or but basically he saved Stanley and comes to the realization that his own twin’s future could be like this. That he could lose or have lost Stan without knowing. The fact that HE saved this Stanley and that if not for him this ford would have lost his brother and possibly have never of known. It sickens him and he makes it his personal mission to get home, rebuild his relationship with Stan if possible, and save his brother no matter what.

Stanley meanwhile is trying to fix his “mistake” (ford shouldn’t have seen that, he should have never known-) and is pampering the shit out of ford, stealing whatever he can for his little brother (?) , which caused more tensions because Stanley is the one hurt not ford! He needs to rest not be trying to shoplift his favorite snacks, books, etc!!!

On the other end of things Stanford still had the same realization from the first idea (minus the height thing but he does take into account that Stan is severely malnourished) and does try to pamper and connect with him. Does it backfire on him? Yes. Does Stan feel like he doesn’t deserve it? Yes. Does Stan lash out because clearly ford is doing it out of guilt? Yes. Is there drama where Stan ends up running away because ford reveals that the dream of sailing was never going to happen, especially not with Stan suffocating him!

(Some dialogue I thought for it.

“Stan, that’s not what I meant to say-“

“You think I’m suffocating?”

“No- well, yes I did but that doesn’t-“

“Is that why- that’s why you wanted to leave me. I’m suffocating, a burden-“

“Stan you’re not a burde-“

“YES I AM- IM THE EXTRA STAN, THE DUMB STAN, THE STAN THAT NOBODY WANTS-“

“STAN YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND-“

“Oh i understand, i might be stupid but i understand this, you don’t want me, nobody does. All my life I’ve been nothing but a burden to you, all I’ve ever done is ride on your coattails. It’s just like Pa said. But you don’t have to worry about me.”

“Stan what are you-“

*restraints Stanford in some way idk *

“You don’t have to help me anymore, it’s not like I’m worth much”

*runs away* )

3) Stanley and Stanford are the ones to get stranded in time thanks to Stanford doing some magical stuff that had the twins connected and sent to the past. Idk too much about this one but it could be fun. Especially if Stanford accidentally gets drunk trying to help Stan and reveals stuff about bill only for Stan to clock his shit and be like “yeah no you’re getting scammed bro. Played like a cheap kazoo”

Meanwhile Stanley is idk doing drag, perhaps going through withdrawal symptoms from lack of “flour”. Maybe some mental issues? Who knows, ford sure doesn’t!

[holoska]

after debating for weeks whether to stay very far away from the deltarune soriel discourse or let myself ramble about my faves like I want to, the latter has finally won out

I've had time to properly absorb the weight of all that happens at the end of chapter 4, and obviously I do feel for both kris and susie. that is The Point of the scenes being from their perspectives; after everything they just went through and all the worry they had for toriel's safety (for the second time in 24 hours!), the scene they come home to is maybe the most uncomfortable slap in the face possible. it sticks out to me that the last thing susie talks about before the dark fountain is sealed is her wanting tomorrow to be the same as yesterday and for everything to always be able to go back to how it was, and that's what greets them - a blatant, obnoxious sign that things are changing. even though the scene has a lighthearted side, its overall tone adds to the downcast feeling the chapter ends on.

having said that, as someone who has spent the past 9 and a half years being normal about sans and toriel, I'm still very very happy that this is a canon scene we got 💜

the fandom may be largely not considering their perspectives in the slightest (or worse, only viewing their perspectives from the most bad faith angles possible), but I for one love this for them!! as other very good posts have pointed out, toriel has been sorely in need of someone who's there for her - an awful lot of people in town saw the divorce play out and have something to say about it, the holiday family are closer to asgore than toriel, kris is her child and stuck in the middle of their parents' issues, and while she's friends with alphys, them being coworkers and alphys being kris' teacher likely puts a distance of sorts between them. but sans is new in town, someone she immediately connects with, who has no pre-existing opinions about her family and has seen firsthand what toriel has to put up with from asgore. in every universe, sans is exactly the kind of person toriel needs in her life.

there's less to work with from sans' perspective given how little we know about him, and I'm not all-in on sans being from deltarune just yet (more specifically I do love the theory, I'm just giving myself room to not be too disappointed if it doesn't happen), but the new version of it's raining somewhere else being named 'the place where it rained' emotionally destroys me forever. either way it drives home just how happy toriel makes sans in both worlds and I love that so so much :']

to be clear I'm not saying they did nothing wrong, their choices negatively impacted kris and susie and they were objectively disruptive and inconsiderate after kris went to bed. but I like that they're being messy and flawed, because it means this isn't just "my faves are getting closer in the background yippee" but that their relationship is potentially an actual part of the story, and that's how you get The Good Stuff!! we wouldn't have had meaningful character moments like noelle finally standing up to queen if queen hadn't tried to control noelle and just listened to her from the start, or susie comforting ralsei with her bloodied hand if he'd told her and kris every detail of the full prophecy the moment he met them and never kept any secrets. if all the hints towards a flower shop dark world turn out to be true then it's pretty clear the story is building things up to make those future character moments hit, and considering we still don't know what happened with the dreemurr divorce at this point, chapter 5 seems like a perfect opportunity to dive into all of that.

plus, as sweet as susie's bond with toriel is, I honestly think susie seeing this side of toriel needed to happen. a lot of the fandom's complaints about toriel right now boil down to her not being the "perfect mother" they thought she was, and what bothers me about that is toriel was never meant to be that kind of character. toby has said that she's not the classic video game protagonist's mother who sees you off on your journey and you can come home and visit any time, and nothing changes and she never has any substantial character of her own. in undertale she literally handholds frisk through the tutorial, she becomes the first boss in her attempt to protect them when every other human left her care, and once they leave she won't let them come back or even call her phone because she can't face seeing them knowing they'll leave again and likely be killed. she's more than just the mother figure of the game, she's her own person with likes and dislikes, hobbies and flaws, and a past and trauma she can't overcome until the best ending.

we've only seen the tip of the iceberg of her history in deltarune, but that same principle holds true: she isn't the perfect parent you return to after each day's adventure, who gives you butterscotch pancakes every morning and never has any real part in the story because that isn't the intent behind her character. she mentioned her loneliness back in chapter 1, kris has secrets and problems they aren't letting her in on, asgore is being relentlessly inconsiderate of her boundaries, and for all susie's praise of toriel being a good mother, I think that house of cards was going to fall eventually. my hope is that, like her blowing up at ralsei ultimately bringing them closer, susie being able to see toriel as the imperfect adult she is but one who does genuinely care might help them build a stronger bond in the end too.

I think I always knew that if soriel ever inched closer to being canon there'd be discourse about it, and toriel slander is unfortunately nothing new. people are just being annoying about it currently and it sucks when I genuinely love what's being built up here!!

anyway crossing my fingers for a scene where toriel invites sans to the festival before she gets thrown in the bunker/he gets sent to undertale/the roaring happens/all of the above 🤞

[nebuladreamerrr]

Renewal | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader

Summary: After many years of sharing your love, you both decided it was time to multiply it. But… what could possibly go wrong?

Warnings: English is not my first language and traumatic birth

Part 2 (soon)

You’d always wanted to be a mom—no point pretending otherwise. But still, you never really imagined the moment would actually come. Back when you were younger, you were super focused on your own growth—personally and professionally. You knew a baby would need love, patience, and stability, so you spent most of your youth learning to love yourself, to grow, to become a woman who wouldn’t fall apart over every little setback.

Even though you met Kylian when you were both pretty young, you always had it clear: you wanted to build your own career. Not because you thought your relationship wouldn’t last—but because you wanted to set an example for your future kids. You knew, deep down, that no matter what path they chose, there’d be judgment. If they followed their dad into football, endless comparisons. If they did something totally different, people would say, “Yeah, but that’s only because of who their father is.”

So, you worked hard—really hard—so that, at least professionally, no one would see you as “just the wife of.” Instead, they’d say, “YN? Oh yeah, the young woman with two degrees.”

Still… the dream of being a mother was always there. Not in a hurry, but always present. Whenever you two passed by a tiny baby store on one of your quiet little date nights, you'd end up talking about “someday.” Or during cheesy rom-coms, when the characters had joyful family dinners. Even when Kylian got approached by a little fan, you'd catch yourself imagining him holding your future child. So by the time your wedding came—just close family and friends, no cameras, no press—it wasn’t a surprise that everyone started wondering when the baby news would come.

Honestly, you two never had that conversation, about when you'd start trying. But it wasn’t necessary. Everyone around you could feel it. Even fans started noticing the kind of posts you were liking—baby tips, early pregnancy advice… People figured it was only a matter of time.

But for you, it didn’t happen with the usual signs—no sore boobs, no morning sickness, no dizzy spells. It was more subtle. Babies were just... everywhere. You kept turning down the wrong streets and randomly ending up outside crib stores. Your TikTok feed? Full of babies. Every conversation you had somehow circled back to motherhood. It felt like the world was gently pointing you toward something.

One night, while Kylian was away prepping for a Champions League game, you couldn’t sleep. You found yourself wandering into that “guest room” that everyone knew was really the future nursery. You opened the window and stood there for a while, bathed in moonlight. You weren’t feeling any classic symptoms, but something in your chest whispered: “You’re already holding something—someone��inside you.” Not physically yet, but emotionally, spiritually. Something warm, something waiting.

The next morning, you took the test. And even though deep down you knew—it still shocked you when it turned out positive. You weren’t even trying. But now… it was real.

And now came the fun part: telling Kylian.

Let’s be honest, your marriage wasn’t some Instagram dream. You weren’t about to stage a cutesy shoe on the sofa pregnancy announcement for likes. In fact, you could barely even think about how the world would react. Humor had always been your shared language, so you decided to do something a little wicked. You snapped a photo of the test and sent it to him five minutes before his plane was supposed to take off, knowing he wouldn’t be able to reply. You knew he’d kill you—but it would be worth it.

So when he finally got home, practically sprinting through the front door, slamming it behind him, all out of breath and wide-eyed—you couldn’t stop laughing.

“Tell me it’s true” he said, dropping his bags right there on the floor and running toward you.

“Why would I lie, Kyky?” you smiled, totally calm.

“God, I’m gonna kill you. I nearly had a heart attack.” he laughed, scooping you up in his arms as you wrapped your legs around his waist. He kissed your face over and over like he couldn’t believe you were real.

From that moment on, you were living in a bubble. A pregnancy that felt like it belonged only to the two of you. Yes, your families were warm and supportive, but nothing compared to the way Kylian rushed home every day just to curl up beside you and trace slow, loving circles on your belly.

He was going through a rough patch at the club—not for any specific reason or because he wasn’t happy, but more like... he didn’t fit in the same way anymore. The usual things that used to excite him—talking about cars, going out, joking around in the locker room—just didn’t hit the same. Now, as soon as training was over, all he wanted was to jump into the car and get home as fast as he could, to be with you, talking about baby names, what color the nursery walls should be, and picturing your new little life together.

Everyone around him could tell something had shifted. Maybe fans in the stadium didn’t notice much, but anyone who’d worked with him closely could see it plain as day. He was different. Even during press conferences, where he'd always been laser focused and polite—no matter how annoying or repetitive the questions got—now he was distracted. He’d leave his phone on the table in front of him, eyes flickering to the screen every few seconds in case you needed something. There were moments where he had to ask the same question to be repeated twice because his mind was simply... elsewhere.

"Kylian, how do you feel about your performance today?"

"Oh—sorry, can you repeat that? My head's kinda... somewhere else right now."

So when a few months later he scored a goal and ran straight to the camera, shoving the ball under his shirt in celebration, suddenly everything made sense. Not just for the fans watching at home, but for every single person on staff at Real Madrid.

See, the thing is—Kylian loved football. It had always been his dream. And when he met you, it felt like life had finally clicked into place: a career, a purpose, and now, the kind of love that made everything worth it. And of course, he wanted your child to grow up around that dream. If they decided to follow the same path, he’d be their biggest fan—though he’d never push them to do so. But still, lately, every time he stepped onto a full stadium, the only thing on his mind was how quiet and safe your home felt. How comforting it was to be wrapped up in the soft intimacy of your pregnancy. And the truth was—he didn’t want to leave that behind. He wanted to run toward it. To stay there.

The club understood. They knew becoming a first-time dad was overwhelming in the best (and scariest) way. But still, there had been a few moments when they had to step in gently and remind him to keep his balance. They weren’t worried he’d abandon football—he never would—but they also didn’t want his performance to suffer or the club’s image to take a hit. Not that they could really complain. Anytime Kylian left early to be at a scan with you, he always made up for it. He’d make sure you were tucked in comfortably at home, with snacks, pillows, and anything you could need—then head straight back and train double.

After all, what could go wrong? The baby was growing perfectly, the scans were smooth, and you had the best medical team in Madrid. It all seemed... safe.

One of the sweetest memories you held close was when Kylian gave you a small notebook. Camavinga had actually gifted it to him with a little joke about “getting your thoughts out before you explode.” But Kylian had taken it seriously. After practice, he brought it home, slid it across the table, and said,

“You might wanna start writing stuff down before this baby steals all your brain cells.”

And so you did. At first, it felt strange. But soon, the pages started filling up like they were waiting for you all along. On the first ones, you wrote about the uncertainty—how, even without feeling a single textbook pregnancy symptom, you just knew. Somehow, you already felt them. You didn’t know what they’d look like or what they’d love or even what name you’d choose—but already, they were part of every conversation, every plan, every heartbeat. Not just in your heart, but in everyone’s who loved you.

As time went on, you wrote about the fear. Fear that maybe you wouldn’t do it right. That you weren’t ready. People always said the motherly instinct kicks in the moment you hold your baby... but what if it didn’t? What if you couldn’t live up to the examples around you? You had felt their presence from the very beginning, and yet—what if that wasn’t enough?

Then, just one week before your due date, your entries changed. You wrote with excitement. Everything was ready. Kylian had fought (and lost) a hilarious battle with Ethan trying to build the dresser and the crib, and after some resistance, he’d even had to call his dad for help. After weeks of going back and forth, the name was finally decided. The hospital bag was packed—tiny outfits folded for what would be their first time outside the safety of your belly. You checked it daily, just in case you forgot something, even though deep down you knew… all you truly wanted was to finally hold your baby in your arms.

So when one morning you woke up to a strange damp feeling spreading across your body, something inside you whispered that maybe... this was it.

You stood up slowly, unsure and still half-asleep, heading to the bathroom with a bit of embarrassment. A small part of you wondered if it was just exhaustion—maybe you'd just been too tired to wake up when you had to pee. You didn’t even bother peeling the sheets off the bed; your belly was so big now, it would've taken too much effort. You figured you’d wait for the housekeeper to arrive, or ask Kylian to help later.

But as you stepped out of the shower, clean and slightly more alert, and felt your underwear soak through again—you knew. This was the real thing. The baby was on the way.

You didn’t panic. You’d both gone to countless birthing classes together. You knew what to expect. So, instead of calling him frantically, you sent Kylian a calm, short message while he was at training:

“Our little one is coming. My water just broke. No need to rush—I barely feel any contractions.”

When Kylian read it, his heart skipped, of course. But he took a breath. You wouldn’t lie to him. If it had been urgent, you would’ve called the doctors right away. So, with good luck chants from his teammates and a quick goodbye to the coaching staff, he rushed home.

He found you in the kitchen, leaning on the island counter, stopwatch in hand, calmly timing each contraction. There was still space between them, so you both took that precious time to share what would be your last quiet moment as just the two of you. He stood behind you, wrapping his arms gently around your middle, his lips brushing your collarbone in soft kisses, occasionally rubbing your lower back in slow, soothing circles. You breathed together, swaying gently in that rhythm only two people in love could create.

As the contractions grew closer and stronger, he called the driver, helped you into the car, then ran back inside to grab the hospital bags—bags packed days before for the two people he loved most in the world.

You’d always told him about your dream birth. How the women in your family had all given birth naturally, without an epidural, and how you wanted to follow that path—if it was still the best option for you. So when a young nurse named Daniela walked in to check your vitals, she didn’t hesitate to encourage you.

“You’re doing amazing,” Daniela smiled, listening to your baby’s heartbeat. “Your body knows exactly what it’s doing. And I’ll be with you the whole time, okay?”

You nodded, and for the first time that day, you let yourself smile a little through the pain.

Over the next couple hours, you were closely monitored. They checked your dilation, your blood pressure, the baby’s position. The pain came in waves, sharper now, but you powered through every one. Kylian never left your side, wiping your forehead, whispering encouragements, holding your hands through every breathless minute.

And then, finally, the time came.

“You’re fully dilated,” Daniela said gently. “It’s time to push.”

And you did. With everything in you. You became something wild, something unstoppable. A force of nature. Kylian stayed right by you, gripping your hand, whispering “You’ve got this, baby” through gritted teeth while brushing the sweat from your brow.

Until—suddenly—a loud, piercing cry filled the room.

And just like that, your daughter was here. Giselle.

Tears fell from your eyes before you even realized it. You barely heard the congratulations. All you could focus on was the wriggling, warm little body being placed gently on your chest.

But the moment didn’t last.

Just as they told you it was time to deliver the placenta, Kylian stood between looking at his newborn daughter and at you… when the steady beep-beep of your monitor turned into a long, jarring tone.

Everything froze.

The next minute was a blur.

Shouts. Movement. Hands pushing Kylian back. He barely caught a glimpse of your face before the doors closed and he was left outside—alone.

Five hours.

Five hours passed. He had no nails left to bite. His leg bounced uncontrollably. No one had come to speak to him. Not about you. Not about Giselle. Not a single word. His thoughts spiraled. Had he jinxed it? Dreamt it all too perfectly? He’d reached every goal, every dream—but this one… the one that truly mattered, had it been taken away?

He stared blankly ahead until a familiar face appeared from the hallway.

Daniela.

Before she could even open her mouth, Kylian ran toward her.

“Please—tell me how my wife is. Tell me my daughter’s okay. I can’t— I can’t do this without them. I don’t know how to— I—please…” He was sobbing now, every word choked between hiccups and panic.

Daniela held up her hand gently, steadying her breath.

“Kylian, listen. Giselle is doing great. We’ve done all the standard tests—she’s healthy, strong, and she’s already been taken to your room. You can go see her any moment now.”

But Kylian didn’t move.

“And Yn?” His voice cracked like glass.

“Please, Daniela. How’s my wife?” He gripped her shoulders, eyes searching hers for any sign of truth.

She paused. Then finally said:

“We’re still running some tests. Her vitals are stable now—but… there was a moment during delivery when oxygen stopped reaching her brain. That’s why we intubated her. She’s responding well to treatment, but she’s still weak, and we’ve placed her in the ICU to monitor her closely. If everything continues to go well overnight, we’re hopeful she can be transferred tomorrow and wake up next to you both.”

She tried to smile. To give him hope. But Kylian couldn’t stop the tears that kept pouring down. He nodded wordlessly, then walked toward the room where his daughter was waiting.

That night, it was just Kylian and Giselle. Her tiny body curled against his bare chest, his palm softly rising and falling with every little breath she took. He didn’t sleep. He couldn’t.

He just stared out the window at the moon, begging—pleading—for a sign. That you were still there. That you’d come back to him. He didn’t care if it was foolish. He didn’t care if it was desperate. He needed to believe. In something. In anything. Even if he was holding on to nothing but a burning, fragile hope.

And somewhere, in the silence of that hospital room… he swore he saw the moon flicker.

[etherealwitcherys-blog]

New Moon in Cancer ◯ ☽ ◑ ● ◐ ❨ ◯

June 25th, 2025

The New Moon in Cancer this evening is all about emotional renewal and trusting your intuition. Cancer energy naturally pulls us toward home, comfort, and the people we care about the most. This new moon is a powerful time to set intentions around healing, whether that's old family patterns, relationship dynamics, or just giving yourself permission to feel your feelings without judgment. The new moon gives us a clean slate, and Cancer's nurturing energy points out that growth happens for us when we feel safe and supported. Pay attention to what your gut is telling you right now!

Spell Work for This New Moon

Home Protection Ritual Light a white candle in each room (or carry one around). As you do, set the intention that your space is protected and peaceful. Let each candle burn for at least 30 minutes while you tidy or just sit quietly in each room.

Emotional Release Bath Add a handful of sea salt and rose petals to your bath water, and set a moonstone crystal nearby if you have one. Soak for at least 20 minutes and let yourself feel whatever comes up.

Family Harmony Spell Write your intentions for family relationships on dried bay leaves. Burn them safely in a fireproof bowl/cauldron, focusing on sending love rather than trying to control outcomes. Keep a window open to let the smoke carry your intentions out.

Self-Love Jar Get a small jar and layer in rose quartz chips, written self-affirmations folded up small, and dried rose petals. Keep it on your nightstand or altar as a reminder. Add new affirmations whenever you think of them!

Water Blessing Leave a jar of water outside or on a windowsill overnight during the new moon. Use this charged water in future spell work, add drops to your drinks for intention, or use it to anoint candles and crystals.

3-Card New Moon Spread

1. What to release - Old emotional patterns you're ready to let go of. 2. What needs nurturing: Where to focus your care and attention. 3. New beginning: What's ready to grow in your life?

Crystal Recommendations

Moonstone: Divine feminine, new beginnings Rose Quartz: Self-love, emotional healing Aquamarine: Calm emotions, clear communication Selenite: Cleansing, lunar connection Pearl: Wisdom through experience Prehnite: Heart healing, unconditional love

Place on your altar, carry with you, or meditate with during the new moon!

Journal Prompts

What part of my emotional self needs extra love right now?

How can I create more comfort and safety in my life?

What old emotional patterns am I ready to release?

In what ways can I better nurture myself and others?

What do I want to plant seeds for in my personal relationships

How can I trust my intuition more deeply?

What does "home" mean to me, and how can I honor that?

Simple New Moon Rituals

Cleansing Bath Add sea salt, milk, and rose petals to wash away what no longer serves you.

Intention Candle Carve goals into a white/silver candle, let it burn while focusing on your intentions.

Letter to Future Self Write your hopes and dreams, seal to open at the Full Moon.

Moon Water Place water outside or on a windowsill overnight to charge.

New Moon Cancer Affirmations

"I deserve love and care, especially from myself."

"My intuition guides me toward my highest good."

"I create a safe, loving space wherever I go."

"I am planting seeds of healing and growth."

"My heart is open to receive abundance."

"I trust my gut feelings and intuition."

Repeat during meditation or write in your journal.

[may--hawk]

Okay, so Peel's Michael story wake with thirst is absolutely fantastic. It made me love Michael, and it's so funny.

Thanks for the tag, @possibility-left!

The fic I want to talk about is:

Crystal Visions, (Good Omens, Aziraphale/Crowley, 31K words, M)

Summary:

Since the dawn of time, Crowley’s had visions of the future, visions that always come true. It’s why he tells Aziraphale you can’t leave this bookshop, because he knows what will happen when he does. When Aziraphale goes missing, Crowley finds some of his earliest visions coming true. There’s only one thing left to do: go up to Heaven to get Aziraphale back.

Excerpt:

Crowley’s very first memory is a vision.

Before he had been created, as he had been created, it had come to him - that feeling he would know so well later, that shift and pull of his wings as if towards his spine, something rising and spreading low in his belly, higher up in his chest, coming into his throat, choking him; his vision dims, goes tunneled, and then he’s lost; it’s on him.

He’s streaking through space; he doesn’t know if space is moving or if he is, but he’s weightless, no, he’s not weightless, there’s a heavy weight on him, dragging him down, faster and faster and faster, something tugging him inexorably down, and he is burning he is coming apart his wings are out but he tries to flap them, to slow himself down, and they���d nearly torn out of his back. The left one feels wrong, hot somehow, swollen, and his eyes are burning, oh Lord they are burning so badly, he tries to close them but he can’t, the velocity is keeping them open, but worse than all this, even worse is that he can feel something tearing out of him, something that hurts as it goes, he is trying to say no, please, but he can’t get the words out, and besides, he thinks, and he doesn’t know how or why he thinks it, No One’s listening anyway-

And then he’s there, floating gently in the vast great emptiness and there’s nothing missing. He is whole and full, feels light and airy, as if he’ll blow away at any moment. He flexes his wings and it feels glorious and good and he is alive. And She is there. He can feel all the love She has for him and he doesn’t know what’s just happened but it doesn’t matter because She says his name, the one he’d had back then, and then She says, I have a job for you.

What I love about it:

I put so much work into this story to make the timelines work in the non-linear narrative and to keep track of everything. This is a timey-wimey fic with an ending I really don't want to spoil that explains how Crowley always knows exactly where to be to save Aziraphale - he can see the future. It's part of his whole time thing, he thinks. (Is it?) With lots of flashbacks to things like Ancient Greece, Victorian fortune tellers, and more, this also features the South Downs, Crowley pre-Fall, and Crowley and the archangels.

Tagging @chlorine-and-daisies, @majnoonathelibrarian, and anyone else who wants to play!

Self-Rec Saturday!

Was chatting in the Pollen server about how we all have those fics that we love but that just never got the attention they deserved. Maybe they were a bit too niche, or too long or too short, or they just didn't get shared in the right places. And now they languish in the depths of AO3.

Let's get those works of heart and art some more eyeballs! (And hopefully kudos and comments!)

Reblog this with a fic (or other fanwork) you wish more people had read. Give a little summary, and also what you love about it! And maybe tag a couple folks.

I'll start!

Consecrated

428 words, Rated M

Summary: Consecrate (n): make or declare (something, typically a church) sacred; dedicate formally to a religious or divine purpose.

What I love about it: This is a mediation on holy ground, divine sexuality, and what it means to be holy.

I was raised in and around High Church, heavily ritualized Christianity. As an adult I still have a deep love of sacred space and ritual, but my definition of both goes well beyond the confines of churches. And my connection with holiness includes the full range of human experience, including sex. The idea that a handful of self-appointed Authorities can determine what is holy and what is unholy is just... It's not on.

So I let Crowley get poetic about it.

Tagging @cemeteryangel725 @sitruunavohveli @andromeda4004

[insociometry]

i always felt like felix and hannie give of biggest pervert vibes. Like theyd get off on the thought of MC when its the most forbidden. if shes busy on a phone call or workirg or something and theucant physically bother her, so they're just .. all mopey and have to go jack off in their room but they secretly fantasize about interrupting whatever shes doing and fucking her anyways - theyd never do it (they respect her too much for that), its mostly just the thought of it that gets them off.

But then you mentioned who would get off on being ignored or not, and how lino and Innie would specifically try to get MC's attention and ... basically those two would make those fantasies come true (ironic really. Lino and I.N living Felix and Hannies dreams 😔)

(Referencing this!)

Stopppp this is so hot 🫠 I agree: they’re perverts!!! Especially because Han thinks of MC as this too-good-to-be-true literal angel of a girl, and Felix knows that MC thinks of him as her fairytale prince — how could they let her know what they think about??? Hannie fantasizing about dragging her down to earth and fucking her throat until she gags and ugly-cries, and Felix fantasizing about taking her and marking her and coming inside her over and over until she passes out — surely she would be horrified* (*she wouldn’t)!!!! No, they should keep this to themselves; it’s just them and their right hands for company…

Meanwhile Lino is torturing and teasing her until she begs for it and I.N just pulls out the baby-doll eyes — “Noona, you don’t want me? 🥺” while pushing his thumb into her mouth, his big hand on her waist, holding her down — strong and forceful as though in contrast to the pleading words. And it works! Unfair!!

(CNC and somnophilia ahead! Just assume it’s pre-negotiated! 🪦🕊️🛑)

Alsooooo, this fic DOES get into consensual non-consent elements, so — far into the future, when they know each other’s kinks and tells and limits, doesn’t Hannie just seem like a “just the tip” guy when MC is busy and he’s especially needy? “Baby I promise I’ll be quick; just a little, please, I need it; I need you; please, angel, please, please—”, clawing at her clothes, pushing her against the nearest surface with more force than usual, kissing her wet and messy — but it’s never just the tip, and her legs are shaking, and because he’s so so so needy they go a few rounds. But he’s her Sungie and he’s so good for her and he loves her so much, he’ll always get her off at least twice for every time he gets off 🥺 Isn’t that so good of him 🥺🥺 “No, no, baby, don’t pass out,” he���s whimpering, leaving finger-shaped bruises on your hips, kissing the tears from your eyes, come pooling on the floor, “Don’t pass out, don’t leave me— Just one more time; please angel, one more time, really, please—”

And Felix just looooves to hold you, and loves to be as close as possible — and isn’t cockwarming just a natural extension of that? It just makes sense; it’s just maximizing skin on skin! Of course he isn’t going to get in the way of your nap when you’re soooo sleepy, he knows you’ve been busy — he just wants to be included! It’s sweet, if you think about it 😊 But you’re so little; he needs to work you open on his fingers before he can fit — oh but don’t worry, he won’t make you come; that’s not what it’s about, right? Except being on edge extends into sleep, so even when you finally manage to drift off, you’re still aching for him: clenching, rocking back, mumbled moans falling from your lips. In that case, it’s only good of Felix to get you off, right? He’s just being an attentive boyfriend! It’s sweet, if you think about it 🤭 He’ll just rub your clit and grind into you until you come — or until you wake; whichever comes first. But Felix wouldn’t mind if you stayed sleeping; you do need the rest, after all! And he’s never going to complain about getting to come inside you until you’re full and sticky 🫶

[pandoras-boxxx]

What if Viktor saved Jayce as a child… to ensure someone could stop him later? A theory on time travel, moral anchors, and the butterfly effect in Arcane.

So I’ve been thinking a lot about Arcane Season 2 and something hit me like a bolt from a Hextech crystal.

What if Viktor didn’t just accidentally save Jayce as a child (in that early fire scene)… but intentionally went back in time to do it — because he knew that Jayce would be the only one who could stop him in the future?

We know that the mysterious mage who saves young Jayce is Viktor from the future. That’s been widely theorized and pretty much confirmed. But here’s my deeper take:

🔁 The Butterfly Effect: No Jayce = Heimerdinger takes over?

If Jayce had died, Hextech still would have happened — but possibly with Heimerdinger as the one developing it. And that could have been much worse.

While Heimerdinger is wise and cautious in Season 1, he might not have remained that way in a timeline where Jayce dies tragically. Grief can change people. Perhaps he would’ve embraced Hextech for control, stability, or even vengeance. Without Jayce as a moral check, Heimer could’ve gone full techno-utopian — and become more dangerous than Viktor himself.

Viktor, seeing this in one of his time-loop timelines, realizes: the only way to prevent a catastrophic evolution is to save the one person who can challenge him not out of hate… but out of love, grief, and shared history.

So he saves Jayce — not to preserve friendship, but to create his own undoing.

🧭 Sending Ekko and Heimer to the alternate timeline

What if Viktor also orchestrated Ekko and Heimerdinger’s arrival in the alternate timeline — to create the Z‑Drive?

Think about it:

Ekko = creativity and rebellion

Heimerdinger = structure and legacy

Together, they can build a time-altering device not for conquest, but for redemption.

It’s not a coincidence that they’re sent there, to a calm timeline — away from conflict — where they can work. And when Heimer sacrifices himself to send Ekko back, it closes the loop. Viktor didn’t just send them away — he gave them purpose.

🤖 Viktor: Tragic savior or self-aware villain?

To me, Viktor becomes the ultimate tragic figure:

He builds the apocalypse, then tries to reverse it.

He saves the boy who will kill his dream.

He empowers those who will dismantle his legacy.

And maybe… just maybe… that was the dream all along.

Not a Glorious Evolution.

But a return to human dignity.

---

Inspired by various fan theories surrounding Viktor’s time travel and the identity of the mysterious mage — but the structure and interpretation here are my own.

Pandora.

[robo-milky]

“People can sink or swim. All that matters is if I can stay afloat.”

{Unlocked Groovy Voice Lines}

[bacchuschucklefuck]

dreaming abt sophomore year class swap bard!riz

[mercurymacaroons]

arrives 15 min late with a latte

......sup

[vaguely-concerned]

I don't know what I love more, the fact that as rook you can make a statement in NO uncertain terms that you are NOT responsible one way or the other for the theological implications of the shit you're discovering in the 'regrets of the dread wolf' memories. not my jurisdiction. quite simply none of my business. not my chantry circus not my chantry monkeys. irrelevant to the matter at hand here we'll kill that god if we get to him he can get in line. or if the best thing about it is seeing the lone little 'lucanis approves' that pops up right after choosing it. corvid with a knife about to commit deicide keeping it real and sensibly, pragmatically, wilfully agnostic with me here in this magical lighthouse today

[kdelarenta]

potential tw: slut-shaming, catcalling, misogyny, parental abuse

me when i try to break the cycle but the cycle breaks me 🙂💔🥀

name: claire coleman

li: alaric

story: debt of deception by @debtofdeception-if