#day 1: across the multiverse

[spideytorchweek]

Day 1 of Spideytorch Week is Open! The theme is Across the Multiverse

Don’t forget to tag your works #spideytorchweek and or tag @spideytorchweek so we can find your works!

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[ckret2]

Chapter 51 of human Bill Cipher is once more the Mystery Shack's prisoner: Dipper and Mabel try to figure out what the Axolotl's poem means; Dipper gets the hang of astral projection; and... whatever's going on up there happens.

####

Ford and Dipper came back into the shack through the gift shop; Ford didn't want to risk crossing paths with Bill. While Dipper went into the house, Ford went down—returning to the safety of his subterranean study.

Once Ford had put on the old black trench coat he'd worn during his multiversal travels and gotten comfortable at his desk, he pulled out Journal 5 to document the events of the last few days. In a cheap ballpoint pen, he wrote, I've lost my #1 Grunkle pen (and favorite coat) to the waters of Lake Gravity Falls. And then, deciding this didn't adequately express his feelings, he drew a small frown. That coat had served him well for decades, and he'd really liked that pen. It did write excellently, and it had reminded him of his gniece and gnephew.

He spent three pages documenting the eclipse—what happened, what readings he'd taken, what he and Dipper observed—and then another four pages talking about Bill. What he'd told them, why Ford had dismissed it; his claims about a trans-dimensional axolotl distorting gravity with its migration; the statue, the rescue, the breakdown.

The act of writing always helped Ford clarify his thoughts and untangle mysteries; it wasn't until he was writing that he realized the limbs Bill had said he couldn't feel were the ones that had broken off the statue.

He listed the rules of the chess variants he could remember Bill inventing. He drew Bill huddled in front of the board, grim, tear-streaked, exhausted; and then scratched out his face, embarrassed at the thought of immortalizing such a raw moment for his private viewing.

He wrote, There's still a slim possibility that the entire "eclipse," start to finish, was Bill's masterfully-orchestrated scheme to make us pity and trust him; but it's unlikely. Although Bill is fiendish enough, he isn't currently powerful enough, and his lies certainly aren't elaborate enough. If he could pull off such a byzantine ruse, then he could just as easily escape—and if he can escape, why hasn't he? Bill may be insane, but he's never been THAT irrational.

And so, even as twisted as Bill's idea of "friendship" is... for the very first time, I'm convinced that he was telling the truth all along when he said he wants me as his friend. It's not an act. He risked his life to save someone who's an active threat to him.

And at the end of it all—though I'm grateful to be alive in spite of my own stubbornness—do I like him any better for it?

Ford leaned back and shut his eyes, sifting through the inner tumult of anger and old hurt that defined most of his memories of Bill, looking to see if anything had changed.

There was a sore, tender spot in his emotions, a place beginning to rot with remorse; when he prodded at those emotions, he found that it was shame over his own harsh conduct of the last couple of days. But he was only ashamed of how cruelly he'd acted; he wasn't ashamed that Bill was the one he'd done it to.

Outside of that tender spot—regret over his own behavior—nothing else had changed.

No. I still hate him. I'm grateful to be alive, but I hate him. He hasn't undone anything he did to my family and me, and he never will. Forgiveness can't be purchased with favors.

I'm only relieved at the certainty of it. Bill has committed an act that can't possibly be a lie. I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he's shown me the truth; and the truth is he'd rather see me alive than dead. Whatever other lies he may tell, I can hold on to that fact.

Bill's miserable eyes peered out at Ford between the scribbles he'd drawn across his face. It was truly a pity that Ford had to hate him. Pity that Bill hadn't been somebody better. He could have been better.

Ford couldn't find it in himself to be embarrassed that he'd filled four pages talking about the monster he'd already wasted so many more on. Bill had been right about him: You might hate me to my face, but behind my back you're as obsessed with me as ever. The only thing Bill didn't understand was that hatred and obsession weren't mutually incompatible.

####

"Hey, Dipper," Mabel said, unfolding the living room sofa bed. 

"Hey, Mabel," Dipper said, passing through living room on his way to the stairs. He climbed up to the attic.

He came back down from the attic. "Mabel. Why's Bill asleep in your bed."

"He really needed a nap," Mabel said.

"Okay but why on your bed?"

Mabel pouted. "Dipper, do you realize he's never slept on a real bed? Ever?"

Dipper tried to imagine sleeping on a couple couch cushions on the floor every night. "Yeah, okay, that does kinda suck." Even if it was Bill's own fault he wouldn't sleep in the living room.

By unspoken mutual agreement, having a Bill in the bedroom followed the same law as finding a centipede in the bathroom. The law was "that's the centipede's bathroom now." So once the folding bed was set up, they sat on it to serve as their hang-out spot for the evening and caught each other up on what they'd done the last couple of days.

After Dipper & Co. had left, Grenda had come over to take advantage of the low gravity to retrieve the kite that had been stuck in a tree near the Mystery Shack since last summer (it was, tragically, too tattered to salvage), and then they'd gone over to Candy's house to photograph each other performing feats of impossible strength. (Mabel would be sending some pictures to their parents to confuse them, and adding the rest to her summer scrapbook.) She'd spent the next day breaking the trampoline world record until Soos came outside and said gravity was probably too low for it to be safe to be up in the air anymore, if Bill's warnings about being off the ground when gravity hit zero were true; at which point Mabel had hung around inside air-swimming until she suddenly slammed against the ceiling, and then the ground. She was fine. She just had a couple of bruises. She showed Dipper her bruises.

In return, Dipper told Mabel about how their quest had gone: the checks for micro-rips, Bill's increasingly frantic warnings, the lake—

("You got to see a bajillion magical axolotls and I didn't?!")

—the cliff, the Axolotl, Dipper's near-death experience, and what he now knew about his out-of-body dreams.

"Seriously?" Mabel hissed, eyes bugging out. "And he had us looking up lucid dreaming books! What a jerk!"

"I know! He could have just ignored the whole thing, we didn't even think it was anything but dreams."

"And I'd thought he was being so helpful, too! Like he was really trying to make up for giving you 'nightmares'!" Mabel laughed in disbelief and flopped down on the flimsy mattress. "All that because he just didn't want us to know how it was really his fault? Biiill, ugh."

His fault. Dipper hesitated, wondering whether he should tell Mabel what Bill had said about Mabel's Fault; then decided against it. Bill had probably been telling the truth when he'd said he only wanted all the credit for Weirdmageddon.

But—Dipper did tell her about Bill saving their lives. He would have felt like a liar if he hadn't—like he was trying to trick his sister into thinking Bill was worse than he already was. He hoped Ford wouldn't mind; but how could he not tell Mabel?

"He could have just let you die and didn't?" Mabel turned that over in her head, processing this sudden shift in Bill's behavior. "Wow. I'm impressed."

He also told her about their previous encounter with the Axolotl. Considering the other lies Bill had told recently, anything he said about them meeting the Axolotl was dubious at best; but Dipper could remember the Axolotl, so maybe some of it was true, even if Bill had twisted as much as he could. ("The Axolotl said hi, by the way." "Aww. Tell him hi back!" "Yeah, I... don't know how to do that.")

Dipper laid out his journal between them on the folding bed, and Mabel read over the couplet a few times. "'Sixty degrees that come in threes, watches from within birch trees'..."

"It's got to be talking about Bill," Dipper said. "Equilateral triangles have three sixty-degree angles. I just don't know why the Axolotl wanted to talk to us about him."

Mabel frowned at the lines. "I think... I remember meeting him too," she said.

"You do?"

"Kinda. Like in a dream," she said. "We were in some kind of futury space race car. And he had a really comfortable beanbag chair."

"Yes! I remembered the beanbag chair, too!" And he hadn't mentioned it in his journal. "This is great! Talking about it must... must cause us to remember, somehow. Maybe since the universe where we met the Axolotl doesn't exist anymore, our memories of it are... detached or something? Psychically floating around between dimensions until we try to remember them?" He took in Mabel's skeptical frown and shrugged. "I don't know!"

She scrunched up her face. "Ugh. Last summer's first-grader time travel was complicated enough. This is like college-level time travel. Maybe we can ask Bill how it works?"

She said it so easily, like she thought it was actually a good idea. Right after she'd heard about the lucid dreaming thing, too. "I don't think he'd help." Dipper lowered his voice. "He really didn't want Grunkle Ford and me to find out about the Axolotl—and he kept telling me not to think about what the Axolotl told me. He's trying to cover something up."

"Oo-oo-ooh." Voice dropped to a whisper, Mabel said, "Do you think it's some kind of Space Axolotl conspiracy?"

"It could be," Dipper said. "All I know is he was trying to tell us something important about Bill. Some kind of prophecy, or... maybe a warning...?"

He trailed off. Mabel had stopped listening to Dipper. She was rereading the couplet Dipper had written, moving her lips like she was murmuring under her breath—but whatever she was saying, it was much longer than the couplet Dipper had written down. Distractedly, she said, "Do you have a pen?"

"Yeah, here." Dipper quickly handed over the pen he kept in his vest.

Mabel clicked it, went to the bottom of the page, and wrote: A different form, a different time.

Dipper sucked in a sharp breath as the words snapped into place in his mind. "That's it! That was the last line! What else do you remember?"

"That's it," Mabel said. "It was free form poetry with a bunch of rhyme pairs."

"I don't think free form poetry rhymes."

"Pbbbt." Mabel blew a raspberry and shoved Dipper's face. "Whatever! You know what I mean." She pointed at the last line. "Do you think the poem's about why Bill's here? He time traveled to the Mystery Shack in a new body..."

"Exactly! Bill must be back here for a reason. He's got all those powers—or, used to, anyway—and he knows more about the multiverse than anybody on Earth... Maybe there's some kind of big threat coming, and Bill's the only one who can stop it, and—and the Axolotl wanted us to know...?"

"I like the sound of that," Mabel said. "That'd basically make him a hero, right?"

Dipper grimaced. "I mean. I guess? But we're talking about Bill. If he does help us stop a threat, it'd be like if a serial killer picked up a hitchhiker and killed him, and then it turned out the hitchhiker was an even worse serial killer."

"That still sounds kinda heroic to me."

"Pfff, okay." He looked at his journal. "But... what is he here to do?"

Mabel considered what they'd already written. "Maybe we can use him to spy on our enemies through birch trees!"

"Thaaat's probably not it."

"No, I think I'm on to something. I can feel it."

There was a lot of empty space between his couplet and Mabel's line. "There's more we're missing, though. Maybe the rest of the poem describes the threat? Or what we need to get Bill to do?"

"I can't remember anything else, though."

"Me neither."

They stared at the page together, waiting for something to come to their blank minds. Mabel looked at the fish tank. "Hey, Primrose! Do you know anything?"

The pet axolotl in the tank ignored her serenely.

Dipper said, "'Primrose'?"

"Yeah, last summer Grunkle Stan said her name is Freakface, but I thought she deserved a cuter name. She's primrose color!"

"Ford says he originally named him Nikola."

Mabel gasped. "Nikki..."

Dipper twisted around to look at the axolotl. "Do you know anything? Do you... get messages from the Axolotl's heralds, or anything...?"

Nikola slowly opened his mouth, and slowly closed it.

Mabel said, "Hey. The Axolotl's one of those dimension-crossy time-travely guys, right? He probably wouldn't have given us a prophecy in the wrong timeline and then made us forget it unless he knew we'd remember it in time in the rightdimension!"

"I guess," Dipper said uncertainly.

"So we don't need to worry about it! We'll remember it when we need to."

"Unless this timeline's going to branch, and the only one where we survive is the one where we put all our effort into trying to remembering—"

"Shhh!" Mabel put a finger over Dipper's mouth. "Uh-uh. No college time travel. We'll be fine!"

Dipper pushed her over. "Okay, but we should at least try a little to remember what the Axolotl told us."

"What if we work on it separately?" Mabel propped herself up on an elbow. "Instead of just sitting around thinking about it. And whenever we remember a line, we can tell each other and see if it makes anything click."

"That might be faster," Dipper said, stroking his chin. "We're already remembering different lines."

"Yeah! And that lucid dreaming book said something about focusing on a problem before you sleep so you can figure it out in your dreams! We can just work on it in our sleep and we'll remember it all in no time!"

Dipper laughed. "What? No way, I think lucid dreaming is just one of those made up pop psychology things. I didn't get it to work at all." Either it didn't work or Bill had deliberately recommended a terrible book.

"I did! I can remember like... eighty percent more dreams. And I can tell when I'm dreaming a lot more often!"

"Huh." Or, maybe Dipper just wasn't doing it right. "Maybe I need to start over from step one. Do you know where the book we were using went?"

"Over here!" Mabel had set a couple library books on the end table next to the sofa bed; she pulled out the second one, which had a glittery pink bookmark with a cat on it stuck two-thirds of the way through. "Just don't lose my bookmark."

"Thanks." He'd reread the first step before bed. "We should probably be getting ready for bed anyway, huh?"

"Seriously?! It's barely bedtime!" And when the adults weren't watching, official bedtime was an hour and a half before Actual Bedtime.

"I'm exhausted. I just hiked up and down a mountain and faced down death."

Mabel pointed at Nikola. "You faced down a big salamander."

"Close enough."

They went upstairs, brushed their teeth, went to their bedroom...

And stopped in the door. Bill was still asleep. "Oh. Right," Dipper said.

He was curled into a ball on his left side, facing the wall, covered with only the zodiac blanket and his borrowed/stolen top hat sitting on the side of his head. He didn't use a pillow; he'd pushed Mabel's pillows and dolls behind himself to form a squishy makeshift fortress.

"Please don't wake him up," Mabel whispered. (She'd already set up the folding bed for herself; she'd clearly planned on this.) "He's had a really really hard time the last couple of days, and I think he needs as much sleep in a real bed as he can get, and it's just for one night, and I'm sure he'd rather sleep than do anything evil—"

"He said something, didn't he?"

Mabel paused. "Yeah. I think seeing his body really messed him up."

Dipper sighed. "We were trying to keep him away from it." He didn't want Mabel to think they'd forced him to stare his own death in the face. "But he did that... eye thing and looked through the trees, and..."

Mabel nodded.

Well. Dipper couldn't kick him out now. For Mabel's sake.

As children, occasionally when they got hotel rooms with a bed too few, their parents would stick them in one bed with a barrier of pillows in between them. At age thirteen and without two crabby parents trying to get them to just go to bed after a long plane flight, they unanimously vetoed that plan. Dipper decided against asking Stan if he could sleep in Ford's unoccupied bed, both because he suspected Stan would just go upstairs and drag Bill out of the room and because he didn't want Stan to think he was scared of Bill. He wasn't scared of Bill. Not anymore. He could handle one measly night in the same room as him. Anyway, somebody had to make sure he wasn't unsupervised in their bedroom all night, right?

Dipper and Mabel quietly set a floor mirror and old lamp next to Mabel's bed, draped a sheet between them, taped on a pink poster that said "WARNING! TRIANGLE ZONE!" and was covered in stickers of triangular objects, and decided Dipper was adequately shielded. If Bill did get up during the night, he'd probably trip through the sheet and wake half the house before he got anywhere near Dipper.

Dipper went to sleep with a baseball bat in his hands.

####

"Okay," Bill said, hands on his sides, "what am I looking at here?"

The feral band members of Sev'ral Timez turned toward Bill, eyes reflecting in the dim light. They were squatting around Bill's petrified corpse like a pack of apes examining a sleek black monolith.

"Hey girl," Creggy G. said.

"Hey," Bill said. He looked down at himself. His onyx black feet hovered over the ground and the yellow glow from his exoskeleton illuminated the clearing. "Lemme cut to the chase, is this gonna turn into a raunchy dream? My corporeal love life is about as cold and dry as Antarctica, I keep hoping one of my dreams will get a little hotter and wetter—"

"Nah, G," Deep Chris said. "Mr. Bratsman got us fixed."

"Aw."

"We're here to pay you reverence for freeing our minds from the chains of the conventional," Greggy C said, gesturing to Bill's corpse. Leggy P was kneeling and bowing to it and Chubby Z was posing for it. "We want to help free you like you tried to help free humanity."

Bill's eye narrowed. He tapped a finger against the edge of one brick as he considered this offer. Finally, skeptically, he said, "Fine. I'll bite. Why should I think you can help me?"

"Because we can give you the understanding your heart's been missing, girl. You're just like us," Chubby Z said. "A horror never meant to exist, born of a dream to construct the perfect golden idol, forced to dwell within an unnaturally-fabricated human shell."

Bill tilted his head thoughtfully. "I'm with you so far."

"We want you to join us," Deep Chris said. "Cavort with us in the silvan night, G. Shun the harsh light of the spotlight for the healing salve of moonbeams. We'll get drunk on the sweet fermented summer berries, uncaring of how the brambles prick our flesh. We'll dance in a frenzy of ecstasy and only sleep when the morning sun lifts the dew from the flowers and the sweat from our skin. It'll be straight Dionysian, boo."

"We can kiss the hot trees," Creggy G said.

Bill grabbed his shoulder. "Oh, you're the human that keeps making out with birch trees! I knew your face was familiar!" He paused. "So... are there any eligible ones around here?"

"Sure, girl, just downstream."

"If I'd known, I would've polished myself first."

"Say you'll join us, Bill girl," Deep Chris said. The band crowded around Bill to either side, posing around him—the backup dancers for the star singer. "You'd be one of us."

"We're already exactly the same," Creggy G said, holding up a mirror so that it reflected his and Bill's faces beside each other. In Bill's human face were two empty white eyes with pinprick pupils and pale blue irises, exactly the same as the eyes of the Sev'ral Timez boys.

He sat up with a gasp, hands flying to his face. There were still green boughs at the edges of his dreaming vision, blending into the wooden boards of the Mystery Shack's attic. Before sleep had fully fled his mind, he seized up the zodiac blanket draped over his body and stared into his embroidered eye.

The eye stared back at him. Through it, he could see his horrified sleepy face, and his normal slitted yellow eyes. His connection to the blanket's eye disappeared as he finished waking up.

He heaved a sigh of relief and flopped back down. He'd been lucid, but he hadn't been in control of that dream. He still needed practice.

He rolled toward the light of the window, groped around beneath it until he found his journal, grabbed up his crayons, and flipped pages blearily until he found the first blank one. He started writing down his dream, pausing only briefly as he tried to figure out how to translate "Sev'ral Timez" before settling on a sufficiently goofy way to misspell "several times" in Plaintext.

He made it halfway down the page before he stopped. Hold on. This wasn't his beautiful journal. These were not his beautiful crayons. He checked the cover and grimaced in displeasure when he saw a pine tree rather than a hand. Dipper's journal. Bill ripped out the page, ate it, and set the journal and Mabel's crayons back on the table  under the bedroom window.

"What was that," Dipper asked, "some kind of Morse code?"

Bill yelped and twisted around. Dipper's soul was hovering above Mabel's headboard, watching over Bill's shoulder.

"Hey! Back, foul ghost!" Bill snatched up Mabel's pillow and swung it at Dipper.

"Ow—Hey! How did you hit me, I'm in the mindscape—"

"I said back!" Bill swung again, chasing Dipper off the bed. "Back into your fleshy tomb!" He climbed off the bed, stumbled into Dipper and Mabel's trap, tripped through the sheet and probably woke up half the house.

He yanked the sheet off and flung the pillow at Dipper by its corner. "Now get back in your body, go to sleep, and leave me alone."

"I don't know how to get back in it. I just wait until it happens by itself," Dipper said, floating irritably over his sleeping body, arms crossed. "Why do you think I just wander around every time I have this dream?" He paused. "Right—it's not a dream, is it."

Bill sighed heavily. "Try putting your body on like..." He almost said like an exoskeleton, remembered his audience, and amended himself: "Like it's clothing. I usually start with the hands. Just like putting on gloves!"

Dipper looked at the cold fingers wrapped tightly around the baseball bat. "How do I put hands on like gloves? There's no opening or—"

"Just try it, would you?" Bill sat tiredly on the edge of Mabel's bed.

Dipper shot him an irritated look, but pressed his ghostly hands against his fleshly ones, passing through the skin until one set of fingers rested inside the other. A fingertip twitched. 

Bill gestured with one hand, continue. "Now the sleeves."

"I know how to get dressed." Dipper laid down in his body, forearm into forearm, shoulder into shoulder—until he was wholly back inside. He sat up, awake. "Huh."

"There, see?" Bill said. "And if you want to take it back off, just do the same thing in reverse. Like degloving your body from your soul!"

"Did you have to phrase it like that?" Still, Dipper tried it, peeling out of his body from the fingertips up. He left his body sitting upright as he hovered over it.

Bill chuckled tiredly. "Lookit your face, staring at nothing. Stupid looking."

"Shut up." He slid back into his body, more quickly now that he knew what he was doing.

"Great," Bill said. "Now that you know how to get back in your body, never do that again." He flopped back onto Mabel's bed and rolled over to face the wall. "It's a pain in my base having you wander around all night."

"Then you should've thought of that before you ripped my soul out of my body," Dipper grumbled. "Can you reattach me to my body?"

"Sure, easy." He lifted a hand to point down at his regrettably human form. "Not like this, though. Wanna help reattach me to my body?"

"Never in a million years."

"Then come back in a million years. There's nothing I can do for you until then." Bill dragged Mabel's zodiac blanket back over himself. "So sorry. Go to sleep. Leave me alone."

Dipper bet Bill could do it and was only saying he couldn't to try to trick Dipper into helping him. But he lay back down—clutching his bat again—and shut his eyes.

After a moment, Bill asked, "Where's Mabel? Sleepover?"

"Sofa bed in the living room."

"Right."

And then there was silence.

Several minutes passed. Dipper nearly fell back asleep. He heard Bill climbing out of bed and creeping across the room; but the footsteps didn't approach Dipper's bed, so he didn't open his eyes.

A few minutes after that, Dipper heard him come back, walking more heavily. He cracked open an eye to see what Bill was up to.

He was carrying Mabel, who was still asleep; his arms were trembling from her weight, but even at that Dipper hadn't known Bill was that strong. With a quiet grunt, he set her on her bed, then haphazardly tossed her sheet and zodiac blanket over her. He picked up his top hat from the bed and put it on; and then he wandered off, footsteps quiet as a ghost, and Dipper heard the creak of the door as he left the bedroom.

That was a lot nicer than Dipper had expected from Bill. Maybe he did care about Mabel in his own way.

Mabel rolled over and latched on to one of her dolls. Dipper shut his eye and fell back asleep.

####

(My favorite part of writing this was Bill dreaming about Sev'ral Timez saying the most absurdly flowery things imaginable. Anyway, let me know what y'all think about this week's chapter! And reminder that I MIGHT skip next week or the week after because the next couple chapters need heavier editing than usual.)

[fandom]

Top 23 of 2023

Have you been aching to get your hot little hands on 52 weeks of data around original posts, likes, reblogs, and searches, all weighted and ranked and tied up into categories with a nice little bow on top? Well, today’s your day! It should come as no surprise that Artists on Tumblr reign supreme: from stunning traditional art, jaw-dropping digital art, fanart, sculptures, textile art—you name it, basically—this year’s list shows that Tumblr truly is the home for art and artists. Thank you, Artists on Tumblr, for enriching our dashboards day after day.��

Rounding out the top three, we have two iconic shows: Good Omens is live-action, and The Owl House is animated, but both have a heck of a love story at their core. The second season of Good Omens blessed us with not one but two ineffably exquisite ships, while the final season of The Owl House broke and then healed fans’ hearts in equal measure. Thanks, @danaterrace! Actually, come to think of it, the Good Omens finale kinda did the same in reverse. Thanks to you, too, @neil-gaiman! We can’t wait for season 3. 

Speaking of heartbreak and healing, Our Flag Means Death’s second season offered both in droves. The entire cast gave stellar performances, and fans couldn’t have been happier to see the kinds of representation the show displayed. Last year’s #1 topic, Stranger Things, may have dropped a bit, but trust us, you wouldn’t know it from the amount of meta, fanart, and fics in the tag. And did you hear about the live-action adaptations of both The Last of Us and One Piece? They were a preeeetty big deal this year, too. Check ‘em out if you haven’t yet (lol, of course you have). And we’d be remiss not to mention the hugely dedicated fans, fanartists, and fic writers devoting their time to all things Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. Y’all deserve a little pizza, as a treat.

2023 was also a year for blockbuster movies, which of course hasn’t escaped anybody’s notice here on Tumblr. Barbie smashed box offices worldwide and left us reeling with every re-watch. How can one describe Greta Gerwig’s pink-filled opus? It certainly is one of the movies of all time. Meanwhile, with its incredible animation and soundtrack, Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse introduced us to a whole new multiverse of Spider-People, opening the portal to a veritable flood of incredible OCs. And then, of course, we got a fresh perspective on an old classic when cinephiles introduced Martin Scorscese’s cinematic masterpiece, Goncharov (1973), to a new generation of film aficionados who resoundingly agree that it is, in fact, the greatest mafia movie ever made. We’re so glad this underrated film finally got the acclaim it has long deserved.

In the realms of gaming and tech, the long-anticipated Baldur’s Gate 3 has basically become everyone’s new favorite D&D/dating sim combination. Of course, the Pokémon franchise, games, shows, and Hatsune Miku collabs remain perennial favorites. Elon Musk’s purchase of Twitter, sorry, we mean of course X, made waves across the internet. Similarly, the Reddit blackout drove Redditors to new venues, and Tumblr users welcomed the folks from r/196 with open arms—we’re huge fans of your memes, y’all, and you fit right in. Welcome, we’re glad you enjoy the chaos. Here’s a fun fact: if we included post metadata in Year in Review rankings, #polls, introduced in January of 2023, would have been the #5 topic on Tumblr this year. Phenomenal. 

And, oh right. Taylor Swift had kind of a big year, what with the albums, the epic global tour, and the movie and stuff. Fantastic work, @taylorswift, the Swifties on Tumblr thank you for everything.

This is Tumblr’s Year in Review.

Artists on Tumblr

Good Omens

The Owl House

Barbie

Pokémon

Spider-Man: Across the Spider-Verse

Critical Role

Goncharov

Taylor Swift

Genshin Impact

Stranger Things

The Last of Us

Rise of the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Elon Musk

196

Star Wars

Our Flag Means Death

Crowley | Good Omens

LGBTQ

Cottagecore

Baldur's Gate 3

One Piece

Aziraphale | Good Omens

[scourgeofmyownbrain]

Good fucking day, Robot enjoyers! Gaze upon the updated semi-accurate height comparison of Bumblebee across the multiverse.

This is an updated version of a chart I made a few months ago. I had gotten some feedback and then TFOne came out and I kinda had to update it. I also added a Gen 1 Optimus Prime for scale, for fun... no other reason... (edit: slight adjustment made, just corrected a slight mistake in the order)

I am also working on at least two more character charts and one universe chart, so hopefully I can finish those soon (for some fucking genius reason I decided to do the characters that show up EVERY FUCKING UNIVERSE so I'm s u f f e r i n g)

*PST! Optimus, Megatron, Shockwave, Soundwave, Ratchet, and Ironhide ones are done now*

Master Post

Listed Heights, Explanations, and Justifications below the cut, bc you couldn't shut me up if you tried and I had shit to say.

Gen 1 - ~10 feet (TFwiki says greater than 3 meters so I rounded up to the first whole number because round)

Netflix Cybertron Trilogy - ~10 feet (He looks identical to Gen 1 so... the reason his photo looks weird is because I couldn't find a good full body photo with him standing straight up facing the camera so I put two images together to make the worst looking photoshop job you have ever seen)

Earth Spark - ~10 feet (There is no confirmed height yet, but using this screen shot (see below) of him standing in front of a barn door, I was able to make a reasonable guess, bc I'm so smart.)

One V1 - ~13 feet (I am well aware of what the TFWiki says: 26.429 feet. And I fully reject that number. A: These numbers are sourced from the Walmart Promotional AR Experience that came out before the movie. B: There are three decimal points, and that number does not convert into a whole number in meters (which is originally what I thought was weird about it). C: The director has said that this movie is both canon to the LA movies and its own separate canon, and Bumblebee in both sets of LA movies does not exceed 20 feet tall. Ever. So, for sanity's sake, I have used the KCV numbers as my baseline. Bee grows when he gets his t-cog so shrink this one down a few feet. Look, I'm working on the Optimus chart rn, and one of the numbers from Beast Wars on the wiki was very observably wrong, and if I can dispute numbers older than me, I can dispute numbers 2 decades younger than me from fucking Walmart. Also, yes, his picture is 3 images sandwiched together)

Animated - 13 feet 3 Inches (There is no actual given heights, but in the comments of the previous version, @phoenix-inanis told me that they had done their own analysis of TFA heights and, gonna be real with you, I am blown away by all of their work and how detailed it is. Go marvel at how much work they put in -> https://phoenix-inanis.notion.site/TFA-Height-Chart-f6ad2960ca8c4c5b859ee4958723aaa4?pvs=4 )

One V2 - ~15 Feet (Please see reasoning above. Since this is as tall as we see Bee get, he's the same height as KCV Bee. Sweet fuck, I have put way too much effort into this shit)

Knight/Capel-Verse - 15 feet (No actual numbers, but Mirage is stated to be 15 feet tall (TFWiki), and he and Bee are like the same height, so... Capel directed the ROTB movie if you're wondering why his name is there)

Bayverse V1 - 16 feet (TFWiki. This is like the first 3 movies minimum, I don't remember when he hits his growth spurt. Also mr bay is king, we have numbers for nearly every character in BV)

Cyberverse - 18 feet (I'm gonna be honest, the only info we have is from a really shitty screen shot of a magazine. SO if any one has a copy of this book from the video below, a high quality scan would be greatly appreciated and I will kiss the ground you walk upon. Yes I found the video where the screen shot comes from leave me alone)

Bayverse V2 - 18 feet (TFWiki. Movie 4-5 I can't remember which one, I'm not re-looking this up. I fucking love the bayverse tho, this is the only universe with concrete and consistent this-character-is-this-height info)

Aligned Cont. WF/FOC - 20 feet (TFWiki/Fandom. Video game info screens you godsend, kiss me sweetly)

Aligned Cont. TFP/RID15 - 21 feet (These two designs are canonically identical, like in ALC canon, Bee has not changed visually at all...Ok, yes I got this number from fandom and they give literally no source for where they got these numbers. But, I can fully believe these are accurate. Just by looking at these characters on the show I can verify these numbers in my mind. Here, let's Compare.

This is Sam compared to Bee from one of the BV movies, I'm too lazy to check which one. Sam is average size for a human and we know Bee is 16 feet tall in the first three movies. Checks out. Let's now look at a TFP Character who is also 16 feet tall.

Jack is average size for a human, and the size difference is about the same. Can you see why I can't question the Aligned heights, even if they don't have a source??!?! They specifically made this universe to be full of freakishly tall robots for some fucking reason.)

Not Pictured: Aligned Cont. Rescue Bots and Rescue Bots Academy Bumblebee - 21 Feet tall. Look, did you want to see all 5 versions of ALC Bee? No, you don't. They're all the same height anyway; the back row would have just been a wall of redundant yellow. 5 different fucking art styles in one universe, why is that one my favourite.

Here's the front row and the back row separated into their own jpgs. I know it's kind of hard to tell which Bumblebee is which when they're all together.

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #7

Tony Stark had seen a lot of wild things in his life—aliens, Norse gods, sentient killer bots made by his own two hands—but nothing, nothing, could’ve prepared him for the day a literal ghost boy phased through the ceiling of Stark Tower and declared, “You’re my godfather now.”

Tony blinked. “…Did I drink last night?”

“No,�� Pepper called from another room. “You’ve been sober for two years.”

“Right. Just checking. Then who the hell is this glowing child and why does he think I’m his godfather?”

Danny Fenton, age seventeen, half-ghost disaster and walking teenage trauma case, stood in the middle of the floor with glowing green eyes and the confidence of a raccoon that’s already tipped over the trash can. “Because I’m emotionally damaged and in need of a stable father figure who isn’t a power-obsessed megalomaniac with Oedipal issues.”

Tony stared.

Danny stared back.

Tony raised a brow. “Are you talking about your actual dad or—”

“Vlad Masters,” Danny spat like the name was poison. “He’s rich, insane, and wants to kill my dad and marry my mom. And I’m pretty sure he’s legally stalking me. So… yeah. You’re the anti-Vlad. Congratulations. You’re my godfather now.”

Tony looked like he was buffering. Then a slow, terrible grin crawled across his face. “…Hell yeah I am.”

And that was that. Danny Fenton moved into Stark Tower and the next day Tony updated the JARVIS files with: “New priority directive: Protect Ghost Goblin 1 (Danny Fenton).”

Then Peter Parker, long-suffering, perpetually confused, and not emotionally prepared for whatever was happening lately, stared as Danny literally walked through his bedroom wall and flopped onto his bed like they’d known each other for years.

“You ever heard of doors?” Peter asked, voice cracking slightly because holy hell the new godchild Tony was parading around was cute. Even if he looked like he hadn’t slept since the Cold War.

Danny ignored him. “Tony said I should ‘hang out with the spider boy’ because we’d be ‘trauma-compatible.’” He rolled over and stared at Peter upside-down. “Are you trauma-compatible, Peter?”

Peter looked to the heavens like they would help him. “I’m not emotionally ready for this conversation.”

“Cool. Me neither.” Danny pulled a full-size Fenton Thermos out of somewhere and sipped from it like it was a soda. “Wanna make out or emotionally repress things together?”

Peter sputtered. “Wh—WHAT?!”

Danny grinned with all his teeth. “That’s what Tony said you’d do. Panic adorably. You’re kinda proving his point.”

Meanwhile, Tony Stark was committing several war crimes from his living room.

“I’ve traced the GIW’s funding to three offshore accounts, two shell corporations, and one extremely sus Girl Scout cookie fundraiser. I’m calling in a missile strike in 3… 2…”

“Tony, no,” Pepper said without looking up from her tablet.

“Tony, YES.”

Tony had decided, rather quickly, that the GIW (Guys In White, a government ghost hunting agency that was somehow even more evil and incompetent than HYDRA on bath salts) needed to be permanently deleted from existence. Preferably with fire.

And when he found out that Danny’s biological parents had been working with them?

Tony sent Jazz a college fund with so many zeroes it crashed her banking app.

Jazz, who was nineteen, brilliant, and terrifying in the most Pepper Potts-coded way, politely declined Tony’s offer to adopt her.

Though she did let Pepper start mentoring her.

Within a month, she was managing several Stark subsidiary companies, speaking at conferences, and had already physically thrown three men out of boardrooms.

Tony watched her threaten a corrupt investor once and whispered, “That’s my girl—wait no, Pepper’s girl. Same difference.”

And then there was Dani.

Technically, Danielle. Biologically fifteen. Chronologically five. Personality-wise? A feral gremlin hopped up on ghost energy and sibling issues.

She and America Chavez met at a Stark Industries youth outreach event and instantly bonded over being “multiverse anomalies with authority issues.”

Now they were best friends, terrorizing New York and the surrounding dimensions like it was a competitive sport.

“DANI GET OFF THAT DINOSAUR.”

“YOU CAN’T TELL ME WHAT TO DO, YOU’RE NOT MY MOM.”

“AMERICA PUT THE SORCERER SUPREME DOWN.”

“HE STARTED IT.”

Stephen Strange started keeping antacids in his cape.

Meanwhile, Dani kept calling Tony “Iron Dad” and trying to hotwire the Quinjet for “ghost girl reasons.” Nobody could stop her. Nobody even tried anymore.

And then—as if the chaos weren’t enough—Dan showed up.

Danny’s alternate universe self, aged up to 21 because time travel is rude, and fused with Vlad in a Frankenstein disaster combo of trauma, rage, and nuclear hotness.

Dan was chaos incarnate.

He crashed through a multiversal rift during breakfast and immediately tried to flirt with Loki.

Loki, sipping tea in the kitchen, barely looked up. “You smell like war crimes and daddy issues.”

Dan purred, “You smell like abandonment trauma and repressed bisexuality.”

“Stop flirting with the Asgardian war criminal!” Jazz yelled from across the room.

“IT’S CALLED DIPLOMACY,” Dan yelled back.

Vlad, for his part, tried to retaliate by showing up at Stark Tower in a suit and monologuing about betrayal, destiny, and how Danny was meant to be his son/heir/lovechild/successor/whatever.

Tony tased him.

No hesitation. No words. Just taser.

Vlad hit the ground like a sack of sad midlife crisis potatoes.

“JARVIS,” Tony said cheerfully, “Put him in a cage. Have it labeled: Delusional Walmart Dracula.”

“Yes, sir.”

Later, Tony sold DALV.CO for one dollar to Pepper, who then dismantled the company in less than 72 hours and donated the parts to ghost safety research in underfunded schools.

Danny cried. “You guys are like… functional, emotionally regulated versions of the Addams family.”

Pepper patted his head. “We try.”

One day, Nick Fury called.

“I want an explanation,” Fury growled, “for why there’s a ghost child joyriding a helicarrier, a teenager that can rip holes in space-time, a clone spray painting ‘eat my ecto-butt’ on Avengers Tower, and why the hell Loki is apparently married to a fusion of two ghosts!”

Tony just sipped his drink and said, “It’s called found family, Baldy.”

Fury blinked. “What?”

“You wouldn’t get it.”

Peter, off-camera, shouted, “DANNY STOP TRYING TO PHASE THROUGH MY WALL I SAW THAT.”

“You can’t stop me, Peter!”

“YES I CAN, THIS IS A RENT-CONTROLLED BUILDING.”

“I love you too!”

And somewhere, across the infinite multiverse, Clockwork watched all of this with a sigh and a sip of tea.

He was going to need so much aspirin.

[holylulusworld]

Not my Logan (1)

Summary: Problems with the Multiverse suck. Even more when it brings someone back who has been long gone.

Pairing: Worst Wolverine x Immortal!Reader, Deadpool x Reader (platonic or not. You know him.)

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of loss of loved ones, grief, cocky reader, Deadpool being a pain in the ass, violence, mentions of killings, multiverse chaos, world building

A/N: For my story, all X-Men died, except for the reader. She lives in the same universe as Deadpool from DP & Wolverine. I don’t follow canon. Live with it.

Square filled for the Wolverine bingo @buck-star created for me: Square 1: Claws

Not my Logan masterlist

“WADE! Wade Wilson! Stop right there!” You growl, ready to shoot the bastard breaking into your property. Well, technically it’s not your property. Or it is. Charles left it to you in his will. Not because you were his favorite X-Men, but because you are the last one standing.

You huff before jumping out of the window. Wade would’ve loved to stop and admire your superhero landing, but he’s busy chasing after a very pissed Wolverine.

“Wolvie, stop! She won’t understand! Fuck. Shit. I said, Stop!” Wade takes off his mask. He wheezes because all he did all day was chase after the worst Wolverine. Logan’s words, not his. “HEY! I didn’t tell you about her for you to run off. We still have a job to do!”

“WADE WILSON!” You start to run, seeing Wade kneel on the ground. He still tries to catch his breath as you storm toward him. “I’d kill you but watching you grow legs and arms is disgusting!”

Instead of decapitating his head or stabbing Wade, you slap the back of his head.

“Ouch, Y/N.” He complains loudly. Wade got stabbed and shot; he lost body parts but whines like a baby when you slap him.

“What are you doing here? No one is allowed to come here any longer. You know that.” You sniff when he slowly gets up. “Not since…”

“I get it, I get it!” Wade raises his hands in surrender before turning around to face you. His face is a mess as always, but you can’t help but smile, seeing a familiar face. If you’re honest, he’s the only friend (if you want to call the cocky motherfucker a friend) you’ve got left. “Extinction is hard.”

“What did you say?” You slap him across the face, earning another whine. “You are an insensitive asshole.”

“Sweetheart, we both know you would have outlived all of them, no matter what. It just happened a little earlier this way.” Wade shrugs before putting his mask back on.

You run one hand down your face and huff. “What do you want, Wade? Is the world on fire, or did you lose a ball again?”

“No jokes about a man’s balls,” he points a gloved finger at you. “But yes, the world is ending once again. Or not. I mean… It depends.” Wade babbles as you put your hands on your hips.

“What did you do? I bet you messed with the timeline again, huh?” you snap at Wade. “Because that worked out so well last time. I told you to not fuck with timelines and shit. The dead shouldn’t come back.”

“Oh, about that,” Wade nervously chuckles. “I swear I didn’t resurrect anyone, but…uh…you see. Maybe, and I’m not saying it happened. But maybe I was hopping through different universes to find an anchor to save our universe from destruction.”

“Wade.” You close your eyes and inhale sharply. “Whom did you bring here, and do I have to kill them?”

“No, no! You cannot kill him,” Wade hastily says. “I came here for a short break. You see, bad guys are after our cute asses, and this is the safest place I know.”

“Christ on a cracker, WADE!” You kick his shin. “I’ve been out of this business for years.” You dip your head, hearing someone sneak closer. “Why would you bring anyone here? This is a lost place. Dead and forgotten. Just like me and the rest of the X-Men. Just like—”

Twirling around, you ready yourself to attack the person sneaking toward you and Wade.

Your body goes stiff, and you whimper, facing the man you lost so many years ago.

“No…” You step back and shake your head. “No…no. Wade. Out of all the people you could bring here…you do this to me?!”

“I swear, if I had a choice, I’d never do this to you. But—” Wade sighs and points at the worst Logan, he brought to your universe. “He wouldn’t believe me. Logan said you must be dead here too.”

You wrinkle your nose. “I cannot die. I am…immortal. My Wolverine would know that.”

The man, looking so much like your one true love, dips his head. He has the same body, the same eyes, and the same claws. Hell, he even wears the same fucking suit. But he’s not your Logan. He’ll never be your Logan.

“Go away. Both of you. Whatever will happen to this universe is not my problem. Maybe I can finally rest then too.”

You turn around to walk away, leaving Wade and Logan’s clone behind.

“Wait, Y/N!” Wade jogs after you. “I know you’re angry, but I couldn’t stop him. If there’s only a tiny piece of the undefeatable Y/N still inside of you, help us. Help me save my friends and this world.”

“Your friends,” you say, your heart heavy with sadness and grief. You glance at the photo Wade shows you, swallowing thickly.

“If there was a way to save your friends, you’d do anything, right?” Wade presses on. Even though he knows it’s a low blow, he cannot shelter you or your feelings. You’re his only chance to convince Logan to help him and get his clones off his back. “Please help me…”

“What the fuck is that?” You dip your head to look at the ugliest dog you have ever seen. “Uh—is that thing even alive?” Crouching down, you poke the dog’s nose with your index finger. “Who did this to you, little pug?”

“I think he was born this way?” Wade chuckles while picking the dog up. “And he’s not ugly. Dogpool is the sweetest.”

“Y/N. How?” Logan finally found his voice. He steps closer to you and Wade, not looking you in the eyes. “Why did you do it?!” He yells before jumping at you.

Logan tackles you to the ground to ram his claws into your sides. He growls like an animal, stabbing you again and again.

“What’s his problem?” You laugh as Logan tries to kill you. His claws dig deep into your flesh, but it doesn’t do much damage.

“Uh—from what I heard, you killed his people because he didn’t love you or shit?” Wade shrugs before letting the dog lick his face.

“YOU!” Logan growls. He slides his claws back in to slam his fists into the ground. Again, and again, and again. You can hear bones crack and flesh tear. “Why don’t you die?”

Logan looks at you, shaking his head. “You’re not her…”

“I assume in your world, I was mortal,” you sit up and push Logan away. While you slowly get up, he watches you with tears in his eyes. “In this world, my Logan would’ve cut your head off for touching me.”

“After we introduced ourselves, we should talk about the guys wanting to end this world. Come on, sweetheart. You know you want to help your Deadpool.”

“You’re annoying as fuck,” you huff while rubbing dirt off your ass. “If you keep that thing in line.” You jerk your head toward Logan kneeling on the ground. “We can talk.”

“She’s not her…” Logan repeats. “Not her…”

“You sound like a broken record,” you say and slap the back of Logan’s head. “And for the record, you’re not my Logan either…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[bensolosbluesaber]

Nowhere to Run: Part 1 (Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!f!reader)

Pairings: Miguel O’Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x Spider-Woman!f!reader

Warnings: Hints of suicidal ideation on reader’s part, Fang stuff (Miguel uses fangs on reader), Chasing, Miguel is maybe ooc (I only saw the movie once and was mostly trying to keep from audibly moaning every time he was on-screen), Miguel and reader fight - he does some damage, Poison, Wounds, Not edited (but I will come back for some minor edits later on), Let me know if I missed anything

Summary: After the collapse of your universe, you resort to jumping around the multiverse to survive. Evolution gave you the powers needed to escape your universe. Technology of your own design stopped the glitches. But you haven’t found a way to escape the man relentlessly hunting you across every universe - Spider-Man 2099. ~2,500 words

Angst, hurt/comfort, eventual happy ending

A/N: This is for all of us who watched the Nueva York chase scene/train sequence and thought ‘when do I get to be Miles?’ This is dedicated to the Miguel O’Hara editors on TikTok - you guys are doing god’s work over there (especially with the captions). There shouldn’t be any spoilers in here beyond what was shown in trailers, but tread as carefully as you feel you need.

EDIT: Part 2

--

A persistent tingle deep in your mind vibrated madly the closer Spider-Man 2099 was to you. It was your Spidey-sense warning you of danger.  For the first few months, you managed to stay several universe’s ahead of the terrifying Spider-Man variant, but after running for months with no one to help you, dodging the Spider-Person in each universe, and growing more exhausted with each portal you opened, 2099 was catching up.

He was catching up quite literally. The man was a few blocks behind you, pursuing you through the streets of a Queens in a universe you had never seen before. Buildings were built into trees. The entire city was a perfect symbiosis between nature and technology. It was beautiful, but there was no time to appreciate it. The time on your wrist ticked down. Seventy-six seconds. Seventy-five.

You shot out another web. It caught a window, and you took a sharp corner then another trying to lose the hunter.

Seventy seconds until you could safely open another portal. Well safe was a relative measure. Ideally you would allow a full day between jumps, but if you only had twelve hours, well then odds of survival rose to about fifty-fifty. Anything less than twelve hours and implosion was basically guaranteed.

Sixty-eight. You extended your legs for more momentum, rolled in the air, shot out two webs and used them to zip forward. Sixty-two. 2099 was fast, faster than you. You didn’t dare to look back to see if he was still in pursuit.

He protected the multiverse, kept it from collapsing in on itself, and you put the entire web of connection at risk just by being alive outside of your universe. You didn’t begrudge 2099 for what he thought he had to do. Maybe it was true that your presence could cause a universe to collapse, but you were careful not to stay for too long, not to interact with the Spider of that universe, not to fight any super-villains. If he could just understand that you were careful, that you didn’t want a multiversal collapse anymore than he did, maybe he would be reasonable.

Then again, maybe not. He was relentless, and from what little you had heard of Spider-Man 2099, he wasn’t one for talk and negotiation.

Fifty-five. You dived down, shot another web, swung again. You could never go back to your world’s boundless emptiness and not another living soul. That thought kept your exhausted muscles working. Fifty. The void was all that remained of your collapsed universe, a void in which you could not die but where no one else could live.

Forty-eight. Forty seven. This block was all future, half-built apartment buildings.

Thirty. You’d long ago lost your suit. All that remained was the mask that obscured your face. You must look ridiculous swinging around in stolen street-clothes: a baggy sweatshirt, leggings, dirty sneakers.

Twenty-one. Nearly there. Just a few-

A solid mass of muscle stole the breath from your lungs and flattened you into a cement wall. Claws shattered the cement beside your head into a fine gray powder. A hand closed around your throat, and you were crushed between the blue and red clad Spider-Man and the wall.

He was pure muscle. This was the closest you’d ever been to 2099, and his sheer size was terrifying. The red lines on his mask narrowed with his eyes as he studied you.

Eighteen. You pushed at his broad chest, struggling desperately to fight him off, but he was enhanced too and probably well-fed and rested - two things you were not.

“Stop fighting me,” 2099 growled into your ear, his voice a deep rumble that you felt in his chest.

“I won’t go back.” You choked out the words while you planted a knee against him and tried to kick him away. Your efforts were utterly useless. Quite literally, you could feel muscles rippling across his chest and arms as he held you against the wall while you trid to wriggle free.

In the corner of your eye, you watched the red numbers tick down. Six. Five. Was it even possible? It had to be.

2099 brought you forward then slammed you into the wall again. The impact made your head spin. The red lines of his mask doubled and tripled. He was trying to get something around your wrist.

“Hold still!”

Two.

With the last vestige of strength left in your body, you brought a hand to his face and shot a wad of webbing at his eyes. He growled and stopped his attempt to hand-cuff you - or whatever he was doing - to wipe the webbing away. For a second he was distracted. You imagined the glowing golden portal. Closed your eyes. Energy sparked in your body, coursed through your veins and arm. You shot a web at the wall behind you. It shimmered gold, dim gold, but still gold.

There was a moment where you thought it hadn't worked. Then the wall crumbled away and you felt wind whip you backward as a bright gold light filled the space. 2099 reached for you, claws extended. Four knife-like talons dug into your shoulder, ripping through the ratty sweater, digging into your skin, and tearing four long bloody stripes into your flesh as the portal drug you away..

You planted both feet on his stomach and kicked him off. A bright red web shot out from 2099’s hand to tangle in a tree. The last thing you saw was 2099 falling then catching himself before you tumbled away from him and toward a new universe.

--

It was raining on this new Earth. Actually, ‘raining’ was a bit of an understatement. It was absolutely pouring, and you were soaked before you hit the ground. Hard.

You hadn't been as focused as you needed to be, and the portal had opened in the sky and dropped you ten feet to the roof of a towering building in some universe’s version of New York. You couldn’t tear the mask from your face quick enough as you gasped desperately for air. 2099 was strong, and he’d smashed you half a foot into solid cement.

Your ribs ached. So did your head for that matter. But it was the dull ache spreading across your shoulder, down your arm, and seeping through your muscles like liquid fire that really made you afraid.

The gray of your stolen sweater was soaked in crimson blood. Carefully, you pushed the stained fabric over your shoulder.

Shit. Shit!

Beneath the torn fabric, your skin glowed a sickly, dare you say radioactive red - the same red as 2099’s suit. His talons must have been poisoned, and now that poison was making it’s way through your body, causing unknown damage and immense pain. There had to be a lab on this Earth. Right? If you could only get there, you were smart enough to whip up an antidote.

But as you stood, it was obvious that you wouldn’t be going anywhere. The poison was potent and fast-acting. Insanely, you wondered if it was really poison or if you should be calling it venom. It didn’t matter, because a moment after gaining your feet, your legs failed. You careened forward and nearly smashed your head again, only just catching yourself before slowly laying down in the rainwater.

City lights sparkled in the distance and reflected in the puddle forming around your head. Purple and blues and few bright yellows. Not a bad view if this was how you died. If only the poison weren’t so painful. You wanted to scream, but you lacked the strength.

A familiar tingle shot across your spine a second before the bright gold light of a portal obscured the reflection of the city lights. No! He was so close when you jumped universe’s. He must have tracked you; no wonder he hadn't bothered to chase you through the portal.

You scrambled backwards weakly, your feet struggling for purchase on the slick roof as the broad shouldered man appeared. He was wreathed in gold light. You couldn’t jump again, couldn’t even stand, could barely drag your body through the rain as Spider-Man 2099 strode closer.

“Nowhere to run,” he said. His voice was flat, like he took no pleasure in finally having you trapped.

“I won’t go back!” You tried to sound tough, strong, but your voice cracked over the words. “There’s nothing there. I can’t. I’d rather die than- than go back to nothing. 2099, don’t send me back”

Your fingers felt the ledge of the building and empty air beyond it. Poison. Fall. The clawed Spider-Man. A slow descent into madness trapped in the empty and endless remains of your home universe. A fall seemed fastest. But you didn’t want to. You were scared. You didn’t really want to die. Your shoulder throbbed and head filled with fog. The skin was glowing such a bright red you could see it in the corner of your eye.

In the brief moment you hesitated, he was on you. 2099’s red webs wrapped around your chest, and he yanked you forward and away from the ledge. You crumpled at his feet, and he just stared down at you through that mask. His blue and red mask swam in your vision as you stared up at him. Was it the rain that was so cold? Or was it the poison? No, venom. Poison? Venom?

2099’s face got bigger as he knelt beside you.

“What is this?” He pulled at the torn sweater, his gaze falling on the bright red mottling your skin.

Miguel O’Hara had never seen his claws damage anyone like this. There was no venom in them… unless in whatever universe you had come from something about them was venomous. It was possible. His fangs were venomous, that he did know.

Miguel pulled off his mask, the adrenaline of the chase fading while he watched you struggle for life. He’d meant to stop you, take you back to base, figure out where you’d come from… not kill you. He ran his tongue over one of the fangs protruding from his mouth.

The next thing you knew, 2099 was sitting next to you and pulling you onto his lap. It might have all been a dream, you couldn’t tell. The lights were so beautiful. Your head lolled to one side, your whole body limp as a ragdoll in his muscular arms. His face filled your vision and blocked out the pretty lights.

He had a strong jawline, dark curls, sharp cheekbones, a broad nose, and were those fangs? And were his eyes glowing red? Yes, two orbs as red as the suit and your poisoned skin shone down at you. He was pretty too. This had to be a dream. The monster chasing you couldn’t be so handsome. You blinked, eyes unfocused. Your Spidey-sense was going wild, but you couldn’t bring yourself to fight. 2099 was warm, and you could go to sleep right here.

He shifted your body again so your side was pressed against his chest. “2099,” you whispered weakly, pathetically.

“I’m sorry for this,” he whispered in that low growl. Now it was tinged with what almost sounded like real regret. “It’s the best I can think of.”

He guided your head to rest in the curve of his shoulder, face turned toward his neck. One hand brushed hair away from your neck, the other wrapped around your waist. His fingers were no longer clawed, and his movements were gentle as he held you close, muscles tensing underneath your body. The expression on his face was tender. It seemed impossible that this was the same man who had made you his prey for months.

“Don’t panic now,” he whispered as he lowered his lips to your neck. “Stay still.”

You were barely aware of what was happening. His lips were warm, then four sharp pricks stung the base of your neck just above your collarbone and the deep poisoned wounds. Panic tried to rise in your throat, but you weren’t conscious enough to really process that a man currently had his fangs sunk into your throat. He drew back and spit out bright red poison, then bit into you again. Then again. And again.

Miguel was exceptionally careful with you, holding you perfectly still and being sure to sink his fangs into the same spot each time so as not to mark your skin any more than necessary.

Slowly, the world began coming back into focus. You were exhausted, but the poison was being was successfully being leeched from your system by his fangs. Brown curls were the first thing you became aware of, then the almost unnatural warmth coming from the man beneath you, then the cold pricks on rain on your back, then... then that something was biting you. Before you could wrench your head back, a large hand cradled the back of your head. You desperately tried to struggle as you realized what this vampiric Spider-Man was doing to you. The muscles in his arm flexed as he held your head still.

2099 pulled his fangs from your neck, spit bright red then let go of your head. You sat up quickly. The movement made you dizzy.

“I know you’re scared.” Miguel could see the fear in your eyes. He nodded to your still glowing shoulder. It was dimmer now and hurt less, but it was still obvious poisoned. “But this is working. Let me help you.”

You were looking him right in the eyes, the glowing red eyes, and though you didn’t trust him, you knew instinctively he was right.

“Okay,” you breathed lowly.

You laid your head on his shoulder. Miguel could feel how your whole body trembled, but whether it was from fear or cold or something else entirely he couldn’t tell. When his lips touched your skin you whimpered. That was fear.

Miguel still had one arm around you, but he took your hand in his free one, interlaced your fingers, and squeezed once. Then he sunk his fangs into your neck. It stung a bit but didn’t really hurt. Now that your were conscious, you could feel the poison being drawn toward the spot where his mouth connected to your skin. That didn’t really hurt either. It was like stretching a sore muscle - a satisfying pain that ultimately brought relief.

2099 drew back to spit out his poison. When was the last time you’d touched someone like this? A touch that was more than an accidental brush in the street - or a purposeful one so you could steal someone’s wallet. 2099 was your enemy, your hunter. He was dangerous. But he was saving your life and holding you so tenderly it made your chest ache.

“Once more,” he promised.

His fangs brushed over your skin for the last time. You pulled your hand from his and splayed your fingers across his chest. 2099 brought his now free hand to your poisoned shoulder and pushed the ripped fabric apart.

Miguel watched the last of the poison be pulled from your veins as it filled his mouth. He spit it out then turned back to study how your body was pressed against him.

“Can you stand?” He asked.

“I don’t know,” you answered honestly. Then panic hit and you jerked back, still sitting on his lap but with your face now safely away from his fangs. “You- you’re going to send me back. 2099, please don’t.”

“Why do you keep calling me that? My name is Miguel.”

Miguel. 2099 had a name. Of course he did, but hearing it made him seem so human. And his face was handsome. That was no venom or poison induced hallucination. The man was beautiful.

“And no. Not yet.”

“My universe collapsed. There’s nothing for me to go back to.”

His red eyes softened as they met yours.

“We won’t send you back to an empty universe,” he paused, and one side of his lips twitched up. “You ran because you thought I’d send you back to a void? I see I have quite the reputation.”

Miguel lifted you to your feet easily. He set you on your feet and tapped the watch-like contraption on his wrist. You leaned against his muscled chest for stability. Even without his poison, you were still wounded and tired and malnourished. A portal spiraled out in front of you both.

“You promise not to send me back there?” You looked up at Miguel. He squinted at the portal’s bright light and tugged the mask back over his face.

“Promise.”

To be continued... 

Part 2

-- 

A/N: Part 2 will be a little time jump, and we’ll actually see Miguel and reader get into a relationship!

My Masterlist

--

Taglist (Want to be added? Click here.) - 

@copingchaos @n1ght5h4d3-24 @paintmekala @chaoticevilbakugo @janebby @chaoticevilbakugo @weirdo125 @roseqzpd @bitchyglitterfox @m0nster-fvcker @romanarose

Won’t Tag: @janebby @marvelescvpe

If you want taken off, just let me know! I took a guess on who might be interested.

[zepskies]

Writing Update ✍🏽

Hey, friends! I haven't done one of these in a while, have I? lol

Well here we go! I just finished posting the last chapter of Between the City & the Stars (Dean Winchester x Reader | 1940s AU). 💖

Before we dive into some Jason Teague for Jacklesverse Bingo, I have a surprise Dean AU story for you that brings us back to the modern world, and it's a firefighter!Dean AU! ❤️‍🔥 (No, it's not set in the Smoke Eater-verse, but there's a little one-shot for that series coming in the future. 😉)

This one is a request from a new member of my Patreon, @redhoodieone. It's a whopper of a two-parter for Dean, called...

IF I STAY

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-Sized!Reader Summary: Your dream is to work with kids as an elementary school teacher. Dean is well on his way to becoming a firefighter, keeping things light and “strings unattached” as he goes. After a one-night stand you never saw coming, you and Dean are forced to deal with the consequences…and figure out if the connection between you is worth fighting for.

👀 Sneak Peek

Slowly, your eyes slide open into the waking world. Your head is resting on something warm, firm…and a little sweaty. You pick your head up, despite the disorienting, muddy feeling of a slight hangover.

A groan bubbles in your throat. You gaze travels downward, and you realize that what you’re looking at is more of a who.

Your eyes widen. Oh…my…God…

Not only are you very naked, but your firm pillow is too. It happens to be your best friend’s brother.

Yes, holy fucking shit! You slept with your best friend’s brother.

Biting the inside of your lip, you can’t help but take him in, here in the raw light of day as he lays peacefully on his back. His head lolls to the side on your usual pillow. Your eyes roam over the bow of his lips, the dark eyebrows, lightish brown hair that's softer than it should be between your fingers.

He’s painfully handsome. There’s a slight hesitation in your touch, but you softly trace the cut of his jaw and the stubble spread across it. That roughness feels familiar, and not just under the pads of your fingers, though the thought makes you blush. You begin to remember the night before, almost like a movie reel through your mind… 

Ooooh, right. That’s what happened.

⋆˙⟡ Part 1 coming 3/16!

⋆˙⟡ Or read Part 1 on Patreon now! - Part 2 will be posting there on 3/14~

Dean Winchester Tag List (Part 1):

@luci-in-trenchcoats @lamentationsofalonelypotato @winchestergirl2 @deans-spinster-witch @roseblue373

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @foxyjwls007 @mostlymarvelgirl @kaleldobrev

@globetrotter28 @midnightmadwoman @chevroletdean @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78

@waywardxwords @waynes-multiverse @twinkleinadiamondsky @my-stories-vault @kayleighwinchester

@rizlowwritessortof @k-slla @jackles010378 @alwaystiredandconfused @nancymcl

@this-is-me19 @spnwoman @illicithallways @pieandmonsters @deansbbyx

@mimaria420 @stoneyggirl2 @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like @cheynovak @jollyhunter

@deanwinchestersgirl87 @rachiem4-blog @leigh70 @aylacavebear @jessjad

@kmc1989 @siampie @rubyvhs @masked-lost-girl @spnbabe67

@deanbrainrotwritings @alwaystiredandconfused @impala-dreamer @supernotnatural2005

[benchspkmnirlhub]

A Guide to Pokemon IRL

Hello! Pokemon IRL has been getting more and more popular over the year and a half I've been in the community, and I'm seeing lots of people being confused by it.

So I'm making this guide, to hopefully help people understand it better, and perhaps join us in this wacky community.

Part 1: The Basics

Essentially, Pokemon IRL is a RP community centered on one single premise: Blogging as if you were in the Pokemon world. It's a hybrid of askblogs, RP blogs, and general tumblr blogs.

There's very few rules to it, other than just "don't be a jerk". There's all kinds of Pokemon IRL blogs, from regular OC trainers, to canon characters, to characters who are Pokemon themselves, to even Fallers from non-Pokemon media, and more!

The main thing is that 98% of Pokemon IRL operates on the multiverse. Blogs can have conflicting canons, since the multiverse exists, and the blogs can be from different universes. This also means that multiple people can RP the same character. I've lost count of the amount of Kieran and Silver blogs.

Why is Pokemon-world tumblr multiversal? Who knows! But that's the one generally accepted canon thing across almost all Pokemon IRL blogs.

Part 2: Glossary

I know glossaries are usually at the ends of books, but I figure it's important that I define some important terms before I get to the rest of this guide.

Rotomblr - The generally accepted name for Pokemon-world tumblr. I personally prefer to use the name Tacklr instead, but that's just my opinion.

Sapient Pokemon - Pokemon that are sapient. Typically refers to Pokemon that run blogs. Some blogs don't allow interactions with them. Some blogs love interacting with them, though, such as all my blogs!

Eebydeeby - A human that has been turned into a Pokemon. "Eeby" is short for it. "Sleeby" means "slow eeby", or a human that has been or is in the process of slowly turning into a Pokemon.

Hybrid - This has two meanings. The first is someone who's part human and part Pokemon. The second is a Pokemon that's part one species, part another species.

Pelipper Mail - This is a multiversal system of mail, powered via Pelipper! You can have Pelippers send items to other blogs with this. Can be enabled or disabled per blog. Same goes with the next five terms.

Pelipper Unmail - Instead of giving, this is taking. This steals something from another blog via Pelipper.

Pelipper Malice - Essentially, this is sending something to another blog that you know will hurt them.

Musharna Mail - It's like Pelipper Mail, but with dreams! This can be used to send dreams to other blogs.

Musharna Malice - Just like Musharna Mail, but it's nightmares instead of dreams.

Magic Anons - Essentially, this allows anons to do whatever they'd like to the characters on your blog. Use caution when enabling this, though, as it's suspected that some people fetish mine with these.

High Stakes - Basically, this refers to anything that can majorly injure many characters, or otherwise have lots of bad stuff happen. Many blogs don't like interacting with this stuff, so it's best to tag it.

Drama Stakes - Like High Stakes, but less. This is when stuff is happening that could lead to in-universe ruined relationships. Best to tag this too.

Ultra Stakes - Like High Stakes, but more. This is when things lead to potential death of many characters. Definitely best to tag this as well.

Chosen - Sometimes someone is a legendary's favorite special little person, and they get powers from it! That's essentially what a Chosen is.

Faller - Someone, usually from a non-Pokemon media, who falls into the Pokemon world. Essentialyl a way of writing a non-Pokemon character in Pokemon IRL.

Self-Insert Faller - An OOC blogrunner falls into the Pokemon world. Can get very meta.

Muse Mixup Madness - At the start of every month, there's an event where some blogs temporarily change their core concept for a day or a few. It's best to tag these, and to give warnings beforehand.

Part 3: Setting up your Blog

Setting up a Pokemon IRL blog is a lot like setting up a regular tumblr blog, just in-character.

The main thing you'll need is a pinned post explaining the premise of the blog. These are usually in-character, with an OOC section at the bottom.

It's best to warn for possible triggers that might pop up on the blog, as well as explaining your boundaries (i.e. if you don't want Pelipper Mail).

Feel free to theme your blog too, changing the header and icon, adjusting the theme colors, maybe even have a custom theme!

Once you have that all set, you're ready to interact!

Part 4: Interacting

I made a full guide on how to interact here, if you want to check it out!

The main thing is, don't be afraid to interact. Even with big blogs. Everyone's happy to receive interactions! Worst that can happen is that your interaction is ignored.

So don't be scared! Jump in, and start interacting!

Part 5: General Advice from my Friends

I asked around for any additional advice people wanted to add, and here's what some people had to say:

"uhhh ooc communication is super important, especially if youre trying to do a plot with someone or smth along those lines" - @espers-n-espurrs

"Uhhh "Do it scared" Like. If you're nervous about doing something but you wanna do it, do it even though you're scared!!!!! Also like. Have fun. People can tell when you're having fun. Be silly. Do what you want forever. Also that big blogs 9/10 don't mind interactions with smaller ones. I think I count as one and like. I am just as scared as interacting with new people as the smaller blogs who wanna interact with me" @chaos-cousins

"interact with people" - @justalileepguy

"The absolute worst thing that can happen if you send someone an ask is that they delete it. People like getting interaction, even if it's from a blog you don't follow. If you're having trouble interacting, find something your two characters have in common and point it out" - @fated-furret

Part 6: Miscellaneous Stuff

If there's anything I'm missing, feel free to let me know, or add it in a reblog! I've been in this community for a long time, but even I don't know absolutely everything.

If you've read this far, thank you! I hope this guide helps in some way. Reblogging it is appreciated, but not necessary.

And if you're thinking of joining the Pokemon IRL community, then I'm excited to help welcome you!

[twistedpink]

I fricking love this account aaaaaaa. Can you do Idia with a streamer reader? Like we know he wouldn’t want to be on camera but I would love to read about him being supportive to them behind the scenes. Always making sure they have the best streaming set up, buying their merch, banning creeps from their chat.

This prompt has been sitting in my brain since 2020 prime Haikyuu (iykyk)

Even getting kicked across the multiverse isn’t enough to stop the twitch grind, and you figure money’s money no matter what it’s called. All you need for this venture’s a sweet gaming setup and a dedicated mod- Lucky you know where to get both of those >:)

Mod!Idia that gets mega trigger happy when he goes on a banning spree,, Any other mods you hire down the line use his name like a curse when they go through the hundreds of unban requests. He’s that bad. “Gloomerai” wouldn’t take it any other way though, after all the chat is extra behaved when he’s online. The OG’s say he can taste fear..

Mod!Idia only wants to support your career :( He’s the QOL update! The meta support! It’s not like you need the sweats he’s banning (or doxxing), Idia “reinvests” by being one of your few merch collectors, and even out of those simps he’ll always be your #1 spender fan!!

Mod!Idia that’s obsessed with streamer!Reader,, After he becomes your first “henchhuman” (your lingo is all Grim themed, isn’t his streamer bias genius??) all he can care about is you. After a long day of anxiously checking your engagement, he waves your concerns by being the “stats guy”- It’s not like he’s making fanart yes he is don’t listen, so are you really gonna rip away his only hobby? All of his lock screens and pfps slowly become references to your content, and he’s a very active member of community blogs- but no one can know he’s your favourite mod, or else they’d come to him with their creepystalkerquestions!! (The only reason he doesn’t ask them is that it’s common knowledge to him. Yknow, the regular stuff like your favourite game or hip circumference in cm <3)

Please don’t fire him, there’s so much more for Idia to do!! What will the fandom say? He’s the famous “the hand” now! They’ll miss his cameos when he gets you water or holds your shoulder during scary games :( You could never in a gazillion years convince him to make his own channel, but he’s plenty willing to piggyback off your “extrovert buff”. Besides, he needs this job to monitor his social experiment. “The science of streamers on top of geeks” <3

[pleasestayawayidonotlikeyou]

How would epic sans act with someone who's Like Jessica rabbit? dresses up and acts exactly like her.

Featuring: Epic.

Masterlist

Tall hot woman and funny cartoon man relationship? Tall hot woman and funny cartoon man.

He loves the fancy and luxurious way you dress, it's a big contrast to his own usually messy style.

People ask how he managed to pull you, not even he knows, maybe it was his sense of humour? Maybe it was the way he's a gentleman to you?

Will ask to do your makeup on random days, be careful if you let him, because you'll end up looking like a clown.

Has tried one of your dresses on, took it off 2 minutes after showing you, too tight for him :(

Gives you his jacket on dates, especially when it's cold, he doesn't want you to turn into ice!

Cross is the number 1 supporter of your relationship, as long as his best friend is happy, he's happy!

You're probably good friends with Nightmare, who unlike Cross, judges your relationship until he has no more words on his vocabulary to express his discontent, and it's something that Epic fails to understand, just.. how did you even became friends.

The sound of your heels clank could be heard across the gloomy corridor of the palace, your eyes scanning point to point of the doors, looking for a certain silly skeleton.

"Looking for Epic again?"

A groovy voice filled your ears, a voice who you recognized. You turned your head back to be face to face with the god of negativity himself, Nightmare. Words didn't even need to be used for him to know what the answer was, to which he only replied with a sign while opening up a portal, murmuring "He's not here..".

You don't even think twice before running through, Nightmare following right behind, finding yourself in a vast blank space with esmerald colored portals, that you knew lead to other universes.

"..(_____), my dearest friend, may I know what on the multiverse do you see on that... Guy?"

You look up at him with a smile.

"He makes me laugh."

[cxffecoupx]

love languages: jeon wonwoo

jeon wonwoo x reader fluff warnings: mentions of food, mentions of being attacked while playing games wc: 651 author's notes: will forever support the gamer!wonwoo agenda. i actually wanna play games with him and seungcheol😔. also, trying to finish posting this series for the '96 line before i change my theme for a winter event (i hope i get done w jihoon's tomorrow.) hope you like it!

acts of service:-

wonwoo loves silently. he might not always say it out loud (but mind you, he does — he does when he feels like his heart will explode if he doesn't say it) but he expresses it in ways that melts your heart. he shows his love when he kisses you on your forehead when you sleep in on day-offs, before heading to make you breakfast (well, attempting to). he shows his love when he stops you in the middle on your walk to tie your shoelaces, or pulls you across him so he's the one walking towards the road-side. he shows his love by restocking all your favourite candies and drinks and fruits when they're over, or when you're nearing your shark week. it's his love in the way he makes you an album of all the pics of you he's taken while you weren't noticing. he doesn't say it all out, but you can see it in the efforts he puts in for you, and that's more than enough for you.

"we might need to go grocery shopping; we're out of banana milk..." your voice traces off as you open the fridge and notice a tray filled with the item you just mentioned. wonwoo hugs you from the back as he nuzzles into your neck, "i knew you'd say that, so i bought them the other day itself."

quality time:-

another way wonwoo expresses love is by trying to be with you as much as he can. weekends are days for you both to relax together, even if that means you're on the opposite sides of the couch, one reading a book and one watching videos on their phone. he lovingly indulges in your routines — silently accepting his fate when you drag him for skincare, humming songs to keep you company as you clean up the kitchen, massaging your head on wash days. when he's playing games and you're somewhere around, he instinctively pulls you into his lap, saying something along the lines of, "you help me play better." so now you're on his lap, playing with and tugging at his hair while he wins games.

wonwoo silently watches you as you gather a few things and get ready for your bath. you turn around to look at him, "hey, i'm going to take a bath." he smirks before standing up. "mind if i join?"

playing video games together:-

if wonwoo is asked, 'what are the two things he loves the most?' he'd probably reply with 1) games, and 2) you. so even though playing games together comes under quality time, it's so special to wonwoo; it's like his own multiverse of madness. It was a surprise to him, when you'd first told him you were interested. he almost jumped from joy when he actually processed it. from then on, it was a joint project to help you clear the levels; sometimes he wouldn't even let you play because 'its too difficult, I'll do this for you.' always plays on your team because he wants to be there for you when you need help, but once he understood that you're good on your own, you started competing against each other (you winning over him ended up turning him on, and you had to deal with it, but that's a story for another time). he also gives your characters names that match with his — GAM3 BO1 and GAM3 G1RL (will get ready to physically fight anyone who's already taken the name).

"wonwoo!! i'm being attacked!" you yell at the top of your voice. wonwoo rushes his character over to where you were getting attacked and uses his special skill, the shield (one he bought especially for you), to help you regain health and get into form. but just as you begin to play, wonwoo says: "i'll complete this level for you, love. you just sit back and look pretty."

[fishfooddude]

The Night When It Went Wrong

Finally, part two to the Six Months multiverse.

More parts coming soon...

MDNI 18+

The Bear MasterList

Directory

Part 1

Carmy walked toward a modest white-paneled house with a long brick walkway. A knot formed in the back of his throat as he walked up the steps to Selena’s front door. This was a mistake. He could turn back now, drive home to you and Mia, and pretend this had never happened. He'd pushed the doorbell before he could stop and think about what this would mean for his relationship. 

Selena opened the door quickly. She stood in the doorframe wearing a cropped white t-shirt and the same pair of lacy panties she’d been wearing in the picture she’d sent meer hours ago. She greeted Carmy with an overly seductive look. He swallowed and looked her up and down as she reached out to hook a finger in a belt loop of the Dickies he’d worn to work that day. She pulled him into her house quickly, closing the door behind him. She pushed Carmy against the closed door and pressed her lips to his. Carmy was cautious but felt it melt away when Selena’s fingers tangled in the roots of his hair; her lips were different from yours, but the desire behind them was intoxicating. Carmy felt a chill go down his spine when his hands moved to Selena’s hips to pull her body closer to his. 

She ended the heated make-out session and pulled Carmy upstairs and down a short hallway. Before entering what Carmy assumed to be Selena’s bedroom, he noticed the framed pictures on the wall. They were the typical pictures you’d see in a family home, although one stuck out: Selena in a princess-y white dress next to a tall man in military regalia. “You’re married?” Carmy questioned.

Selena quickly shook her head, “I’m divorced. My husband cheated on me after I had our kid- he was a shitty husband, but he’s a great Dad.” Carmy nodded, and a wave of guilt crashed over him. He was being a shitty husband. 

Once in her bedroom, Selena took charge and pushed Carmy onto her bed. She straddled Carmy’s hips and yanked at the hem of his shirt. He followed her lead and allowed her to remove his shirt and throw it across the room before putting his hands on her face to bring her lips to his. Selena pushed her tongue into Carmy’s mouth and felt herself gag at the overpowering taste of tobacco and artificial spearmint- how she hadn’t tasted it before was unbeknownst to her. She pushed his forearms down to the mattress beneath their bodies and moved to kiss down his jaw. Carmy moaned softly when her lips pressed against his collarbone. 

Selena sat on her heels as she pulled Carmy’s pants down his thighs. Carmy swallowed and closed his eyes when he felt Selena’s hand grasp the base of cock. As she stroked him and licked at his tip, both of them realized that he wasn’t… excited to be there with her. Selena huffed and stood up abruptly, “Am I not hot enough for you or something!” she angrily stared down at Carmy, crossing her arms over her chest. Carmy sighed and pulled his boxers and pants up in one swift movement.

“I can’t do this,” he said, avoiding eye contact at all costs. He stood up and grabbed his shirt from the floor before quickly exiting her bedroom. He couldn’t make out what Selena was yelling as he exited her house, the only thing on his mind was you and Mia.

Carmy pulled his shirt on as he got into the driver’s seat of his car. He saw his phone in the cup holder where he’d left it. The screen was illuminated with texts you’d sent between his arrival at Selena’s house and now.

Where are you?? I’m sorry for blowing up at you We should probably talk Can’t sleep without you… come home soon, Carm I love you, even if I’m mad at you

“Fuck.” Carmy laughed as he turned on his car. He pushed a hand through his hair and quickly turned on the radio before turning his phone off. He tossed it in the passenger’s seat before quickly driving down the suburban street lit with the occasional street light. Carmy couldn’t go home to you right now. He needed to get his head straight. Did he just cheat on you? He didn’t have sex with Selena- he couldn’t have even if he’d wanted to. Carmy drove through the downtown streets of Chicago for a couple of hours before deciding to go to work when he saw it was almost 4 AM. 

Carmy unlocked the door to the kitchen and turned on the lights before walking to his locker. He changed his shirt before going into the office to try and get a couple hours of sleep before the produce delivery came in. 

~

The night came and went, you couldn’t sleep. While you’d been upset with Carmy’s comments the night before, you’d grown accustomed to him sleeping beside you. When you’d rolled over that morning to see him missing, dread and guilt washed over you. You checked your phone to see he hadn’t texted you back. What if he was dead? He was tired when he’d come home from work last night. What if he fell asleep behind the wheel and crashed his car or drove into the Chicago River? You groaned and decided to call off work that day. The last thing you wanted to do was go into the office to edit some documentary about butterfly migration.

As the morning went by, you felt your anxiety increase. You still hadn’t heard from Carmy and you couldn’t shake the intrusive thoughts of him being hurt and alone. “Okay Mia. We’re goin’ to Grandma’s house!” you faked your enthusiasm hoping Mia hadn’t picked up on your energy, or notice that Carmy hadn’t been home all morning. You shot Carmy another text and threw your phone into your purse before picking Mia up out of her highchair. She squirmed in your arms as you unlocked your car from the front porch. 

After strapping Mia into her car seat and offering her a pacifier, which was promptly spit out, you laughed and kissed her cheek before walking around to the other side of the car. You took a deep breath as you sat in the driver’s seat for a moment; Mia happily babbled to herself as you pushed your hands through your hair. You grabbed your phone out of your bag and texted your Mom, asking if the two of you could come by. She immediately responded, demanding you get there ASAP. You shook your head as a soft smile came to your face. 

As you pulled into your Mom’s driveway, you saw her step onto the porch. She waved excitedly and came to help with Mia as you turned the car off. “There’s my girls!” she smiled as you exited the car. “Hey, Mommy.” You greeted her and watched as she walked around the car to get Mia from her car seat. Mia squealed as your Mom peppered kisses on her cheek.

“Let’s get this little princess inside. Coffee?” she offered. You nodded and followed her inside, locking the car before entering your childhood home. As the two of you entered the kitchen, you couldn’t help but notice the framed pictures on the wall. You and your siblings throughout the years, pictures of your nieces and nephews, when you saw a picture from your and Carmy’s wedding, your breath hitched. Your Mom noticed immediately. She balanced Mia on her waist and shot you a look, “Are you okay, peanut?” 

You looked up to see her face softened with concern. You shook your head, trying to hold back your tears. “Uh, Carmy and I got in a fight last night… he left and didn’t come home… now he isn’t answering his phone. I'm tempted to go down to the restaurant, but I don’t like mixing our relationship problems in with all that—I just—I just feel like such a fuckin’ failure, Mommy.” you confessed as you quickly blinked away the tears that had welled up in your eyes. “Hey. You’re not a failure. Get in here.” your Mom cooed, gesturing for you to hug her with her free arm. You frowned and closed the space between the two of you. 

As you rested your head on her shoulder, little fingers pulled at your hair. You laughed, feeling a little bit better. You looked at Mia to have her hand brushed against your forehead. “Thank you, princess.” You grinned, breaking away from the hug before taking the baby from your Mom’s arms. You held her close to your body as you watched your Mom pour coffee into two matching bunny mugs. 

“Do you want me to watch Mia for a couple days?” you shook your head at your Mom’s initial offer. “Mom, I couldn’t—" you were interrupted by your Mom insisting that it would be no problem and that she wanted to spend more time with her granddaughter before she could talk back. You sighed and reluctantly agreed. The two of you hung out for a bit before you decided to go home and wait for Carmy.

Natalie was doing paperwork in the office when her phone buzzed.

Carmy’s at the restaurant, right?

Yea Is everything okay?

Yeah He just isn’t answering his phone

Want me to kick his ass? I might be pregnant, but I can take him

Lol Just annoy him for me but like subtly…

She laughed at the text chain and slipped her phone into her pocket as she got up from her chair. She poked her head into the kitchen to see Carmy prepping vegetables for the night's special menu. “Bear? Can you come in here for a sec?” she asked, disguising her intention well enough not to raise suspicion in him. He looked up at her to say, “Give me a minute,” before returning to his chopping.

 Natalie nodded and leaned against the desk. A moment later, Carmy came in, wiping his hands against his apron. “Yo. You good?” he questioned, looking at the apathetic look on his sister’s face. She shrugged, “Why aren’t you talking to your wife?” 

Carmy rolled his eyes, “Sugar. It’s really none of your business.” 

Natalie clicked her tongue and gave Carmy ‘the look.’ The one that said she knew something was going on, and if he wouldn’t tell her, she’d find out one way or another. Carmy sighed and closed the door to the office before leaning against it, “Okay. I fucked up.” he scoffed, pushing a hand through his hair. Natalie shot him a perplexed look and crossed her arms over her chest. “Y/N and I haven’t… since the baby came,” Carmy said, gesturing toward Natalie, hoping he wouldn’t have to delve too far into his sex life with her. Natalie grimaced at the thought and nodded softly, signaling Carmy to continue explaining the last 24 hours, “So last night was the boiling point, I guess? Um- I uh- I blew up at her a little bit and uh left.”

Carmy scratched the back of his neck questioning himself, should he tell his sister the full truth of what he did? He knew she’d tell you in a heartbeat. Maybe he could convince her to let him tell you before she took the lead. “I uh… I sorta- I sorta fuck.” he laughed, shaking his head in disbelief. He stared at the floor, biting the inside of his cheek. “Natalie, I cheated on her.”

~

Tag list @namjoons-crabssss @sl-ut @thottae @cuddlehye @prurose @1184p @chaoticfanficfanx @ok-boke @literatureluster @bxtchopolis @americanprometheuss @buckystwilight @earth-elemental18 @thebearlily @siren-melodies @thel0v3hashira143 @innercreationflower @unpoqu1todetodo

Part 3

[sweetimpurity]

💓 day 23!! I have been waiting for this one and the next three days!! this is a continuation of THIS sweet thought that everyone was asking for a part 2 of!

So the next three days are gonna be a mini series off of that!! I recommend reading that before you read this so it makes sense!

cw: yandere themes, obsession

PART 1

Earth-731

Mig’s been watching you for months. Managed to tap into the feed of multiple Miguel’s across the multiverse. Connections to his dimension are tricky since a rogue anomaly came a while back and threw off the timeline only slightly. So things are glitchy. He feels glitchy all the time. Like there’s a flicker in his head and in his bones. Searching for the thing that would make everything right again, make him feel okay, and he can only look to you. Perfect you. You don’t exist in his timeline. Yet in almost every other dimension, you’re there with a version of him that’s much luckier than he’s ever been. 

It’s obsessive at this point. He watches you all day long. Watching you with your Miguel. Or rather watching you get left behind. He watches Miguel-928 miss out on important events, forget anniversaries and birthdays, watches you going to bed alone for nights at a time. But he also watches the good times, the nights in, date nights you two share together, the laughs, the love. Forcing himself to turn the feed off when it seems your version of him will get even luckier. 

It’s torture. To have fallen for you when he’s never even spoken to you before. But you love him in another timeline right? So why couldn’t you love him in this one?  

“Hah…” He sighs, running fingers through his hair and getting up from his seat. Pacing around his office in Alchemax. In this dimension, he’s not the leader of the Spider Society. He’s a geneticist working for a tyrant CEO in a bright sterile lab in Nueva York. And not a single person knows of his genetic predisposition. 

He wakes up, goes to work, overworks, goes home, checks the police feed he’s hacked into and listens to where he’s needed. Going out in the night to catch crooks and criminals because that’s all he can do. He hasn’t been able to figure out how to jump dimensions since the anomaly left his timeline glitching and cut off. But religiously he watches back a video feed he captured of another Miguel on Earth-378, constructing a portal generator. 

Since he doesn’t have the instructions himself, he’s dissected and analyzed this video over and over for months. Trying to copy it to the letter and make a portal generator of his own so he can finally get out of this place. He’s collected parts and worked countless hours in his apartment trying to make this work. 

Originally his destination in mind was anywhere but here. But ever since he found you while combing through multiversal feeds, he knows you’re his first stop. He’s taking you with him no matter where he goes. Your Miguel doesn’t treat you right anyway. 

Heading home, he stumbles through the door carrying a new discarded piece of machinery from work. There’s a circuit board with a specific wiring he thinks will be the right piece for the generator. Lugging it down the hallway to the spare bedroom which is now his makeshift lab. His half constructed generator on a bench there. Putting the piece down and flicking a few switches to bring the lab to life. Lights flickering on and some machines humming. Multiple screens on his computer awaken and he walks right over to one, scanning his fingerprint. Pushing up his glasses and typing on the screen to bring up the feed labeled with your name. Pressing on it and tuning in to see what you’re doing. 

He sits down, focusing on the screen and zooming out to see you’re still at work in your dimension. Looking so pretty and perfect. His heart flutters just seeing you after the long day he’s had. He wishes he could talk to you. 

He sits at his desk, fiddling with the machine to remove the parts and watching the feed like TV. Listening to your voice through the screen and seeing you leave work, street cameras picking up your route home. His eyes lock on any suspicious characters on the street and making sure you get there safely. Even though he’s dimensions away, he always watches to make sure you get home safe. 

And almost like it’s his favorite part of the movie, he leans forward, waiting for the surveillance in your apartment to pick up your expression as you enter the door. A smile on his face, admiring you adoringly at that relief in your expression. That gladness he knows you feel being home after a long day. It’s a good thing your Miguel installed all that surveillance in the apartment. Because now he can watch you worlds away. He’d probably do the same thing if he knew if could keep you protected. 

The night goes on and clearly your Miguel isn’t coming home until late again. Most likely on patrol all day or at the Society Headquarters like he always is. Hardly seeing you at all in a day. Mig watches you make dinner for yourself. He watches you watch a show for a while, listens to you singing to yourself as you do the dishes, watches the bathroom door when you’re taking a shower and then switches the feed to the empty kitchen while you’re getting changed in the bedroom. All the while he’s working on removing the pieces from this machine, finally getting it undone by the time you’re calling your Miguel to ask when or if he’ll be home tonight. You’re already in your pajamas ready for bed and he’s not even back yet. 

“Shit… damn it..” Mig huffs when the circuit board doesn’t fit where he needs it. All that work and now he’ll have to find a different piece in scrap somewhere. He sighs, forcing himself not to chuck the piece across the room, instead discarding it calmly in the junk metal bin. He huffs, sitting down at his desk and running his hands through his hair again. He stays that way for a few minutes. He’s tired.

Sitting with his head in his hands and hearing the sounds of you getting ready for bed. His eyes closed and listening to you brush your teeth, wash your face, do all the things he watches you do every night. And then the sheets when you’re getting in bed. Feeling heavy himself. 

Your moans fill his ears, infiltrating his mind. Your body which could only be soft and warm and plush. Under him and accepting him over and over. His cock hugged and loved through your tight walls, his tip kissing your sweet spot every single time. Making you tremble, making you moan for him. Moaning his name. “Mmmmiguel!” You gasp and it makes him shiver. His face dipping into your neck and inhaling your scent which he can only imagine is so sweet and pleasant. 

Finding your hands with his and lacing his fingers with yours. Hands entwined above your head, as close as he’s always yearned to be. Pumping you full with everything he’s been keeping for you. Your cunt he’s longed to taste, to fill. Your sweet soft skin he’s needed to kiss and bite. Kissing down your jaw, your neck, your sternum and finding your perked mound, sucking the hardened nip into his mouth and sucking. Drawing the sweetest, most erotic sounds from your lips he can even imagine. Your shaking legs wrapping around his waist and pulling him deeper, is that’s even possible. Like he could never be separated from you. Even though he’s never not been separated from you before. 

“Oh please Mig!” You sigh, and he looks up at your face, your features quirked in pleasure. He keeps with the rhythm, knowing it’s bringing you pleasure, bringing you closer to orgasm. And he wants to feel you come apart on him. He’s wanted it for so so long.

“Come on sweet girl…” He whispers, but the sound doesn’t leave his chest. It rumbles but it stays. Like the words won’t reach the air.

He shakes awake when his elbow knocks a tool off his desk. The metal clanking and ringing through the room. “hah!” He flinches, lifting his head from where it was resting in his hands. Having fallen asleep watching you sleep. It was a dream. No it was a tease. His mind taunting him with what he will never have.

Except your moans don’t cease. They don’t stop. That’s not in his head. He looks up at the screen. Seeing the time, trying to decipher what’s going on. Your desperate cries coming in through the monitor. And there you are in bed. Your Miguel finally returned home from wherever he was all day ignoring you. The two of you having loud sex under the blankets. He’s confused. Caught off guard. Slamming a few buttons and shutting the feed off. That’s enough taunting for one night.

Taglist!! love my sweeties!

@spooky-sculder

@slushycoookie @xxyaoi-nationxx @snails-doodles22 @scaryplanetdestroyer @fate13

@divorcepaperz @yeahnohoneybye @zaunsin @tomalymme @drefear

@mrs-pondwater19 @saintdiior @aphinthestars @hyjionie

@palomanh @maxad99 @muuuwoppppp @reader-1290

@sp0ck136 @lazyninjaphilosopher

@pinkdizzyship @opalwitchart

if you'd like to be added/dropped from the taglist, please comment on my masterlist post. Or else I might not see it! thank you! 🩷

plus those who requested a part 2:

@d3stin7 @laysmt @yougavemeyourheartyouknow @marshhbs

@twwcs @resident-clown @haveclayeveryday

@fullmetal-spiderling @grumpyahjumma

@lxverrings @lazyjellyfish300

[amethystarachnid]

THE ROYAL LOVERS - part 2

⤷ LOKY LAUFEYSON

ᯓ★ Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x fem!reader

ᯓ★ Genre: romance, fluff

ᯓ★ Story type: one shot

ᯓ★ Word count: 9k

ᯓ★ Summary: you and Loki are going to be parents, when you discovered it you were more than happy, but once little Astrid is born you realize that having a kid is more difficult than you had thought

ᯓ★ TW(s): nothing I think

ᯓ★ Part 1

ᯓ★ My Masterlist

ᯓ★ MARVEL Holiday Special

ᯓ★ MARVEL Multiverse - choose an AU, pair it with your favorite character and make a request!

ᯓ★ Songs & Superheroes tales - The Game (to make a request, follow the rules on the link!)

ᯓ★ MARVEL Bingo

ᯓ★ English isn’t my first language

The morning feels different. There’s a strange flutter in your chest, an unexplainable lightness despite the weight of realization settling in your mind. You sit at the edge of the bed, staring at your hands, your thoughts spinning. It’s been weeks—weeks since you last bled.

At first, you didn’t think much of it. With the chaos of court life, your duties, and your shared moments with Loki, it had been easy to overlook. But now, as you count the days in your head, as the truth sinks in, you feel something bubbling inside you—something warm and exhilarating.

You’re pregnant.

The thought sends a rush of excitement through you, but along with it comes a nervous thrill. This is real. You place a hand on your stomach, trying to fathom the idea that life—his life and your life—is growing inside of you.

Loki.

A smile tugs at your lips as you imagine telling him. He will be overjoyed, you’re sure of it. For all his sharp wit and composed demeanor, you know the depth of his emotions—how fiercely he loves, how much he craves the kind of family he never quite felt he had. This will change everything.

With renewed excitement, you rise from the bed and quickly dress, practically floating as you make your way through the palace halls in search of your husband.

You find Loki in the library, curled up in his favorite chair, reading some ancient Asgardian text. The early morning light filters through the tall windows, illuminating his sharp features, making his black hair gleam. His long fingers rest lightly against his temple as he turns a page with his free hand, completely engrossed.

You pause for a moment, just watching him. How is it possible to love someone this much?

Then, unable to contain yourself, you clear your throat dramatically.

“Good morning, my prince.”

Loki looks up, raising an eyebrow at your playful tone. “You seem… unusually chipper this morning,” he remarks, closing his book with a soft thud.

You grin, stepping closer. “I have something to tell you.”

There’s something in your expression, in the energy of your stance, that makes him straighten. His piercing green eyes lock onto yours, searching for a clue. “Oh?” he says, tilting his head. “Should I be concerned or intrigued?”

You pretend to ponder for a moment before stepping right in front of him, placing his hands on your waist. His touch is warm even through the fabric of your dress, grounding you.

“You should be excited,” you whisper, unable to hide the smile threatening to break across your face.

Loki frowns slightly, his mind already working through possibilities. You can practically see him trying to deduce what could be making you act this way. But then his eyes flicker down—to your stomach.

He stills. His hands tighten on your waist, his breath catching.

“Y/N…”

You nod before he even finishes his thought. “I’m pregnant, Loki.”

For a long moment, there’s only silence. You watch as the emotions flicker across his face—shock, realization, disbelief. And then, as if the dam breaks, pure, unfiltered joy floods his expression.

“You—are you certain?” His voice is almost breathless.

You nod again, laughing softly. “Yes. I missed my blood, and I feel different. It’s happening, Loki.”

And then, before you can say another word, he laughs. A real, genuine, beautiful laugh—so full of wonder and elation that it makes your heart swell. In one swift movement, he pulls you into his arms, lifting you off the ground as he spins you in a circle.

“You mad, wonderful woman!” he exclaims, his laughter vibrating against your skin as he presses his forehead to yours. “You carry our child.”

There’s something so raw, so vulnerable in his joy that it almost brings tears to your eyes. You cup his face, tracing his cheekbones with your thumbs.

“Yes, my love,” you whisper. “Our child.”

He kisses you then, fervently, as if he’s trying to pour every ounce of his love into that single moment. When he finally pulls back, his eyes are bright, filled with something indescribable.

“We must tell Mother,” he says at once, grinning. “And Thor. And…” He hesitates. “And Father.”

You nod, squeezing his hands. “Yes. But I think we should tell Frigga first.”

Frigga is in the royal gardens when you find her, tending to the blooming flowers with her usual serene grace. The moment she sees you both approaching, she knows something is different. Her sharp eyes dart between you and Loki, her lips twitching as if she already suspects the truth.

“Well,” she says lightly, brushing the dirt from her hands, “you both look positively radiant. Have you come to share some good news?”

Loki smirks, shaking his head. “Mother, you always know everything before we even say a word. It’s truly unfair.”

Frigga chuckles, stepping closer. “A mother knows her children.” She pauses, searching Loki’s face, then yours. And then her eyes widen ever so slightly. “Wait…”

You take a deep breath, squeezing Loki’s hand. “We’re having a child.”

For a moment, she simply stares. Then, in the blink of an eye, her face breaks into a radiant smile, and she laughs—a joyous, melodic sound that echoes through the garden.

“Oh, my sweet ones!” she exclaims, pulling you into a tight embrace before immediately turning to Loki and cradling his face in her hands. “A child! My grandchild! Oh, this is wonderful!”

Loki chuckles, though his eyes are soft with affection. “You are pleased, then?”

“Pleased?” Frigga scoffs. “Loki, I am overjoyed.”

She steps back, beaming. “Oh, I must prepare! There will be so much to do! And have you told Thor yet?”

Loki shakes his head. “Not yet, but I suspect his reaction will be equally dramatic.”

Thor’s reaction, as expected, is nothing short of thunderous.

When you find him in the training grounds and deliver the news, his joyful roar can probably be heard all the way in Midgard. He immediately engulfs both you and Loki in an enthusiastic embrace, nearly crushing you.

“This is magnificent!” he bellows, grinning from ear to ear. “A little one in the family! Oh, I shall be the best uncle Asgard has ever seen!”

Loki rolls his eyes, but his smirk betrays his amusement. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves, brother.”

But Thor isn’t listening. He’s already ranting about how he’ll teach the child to wield a sword, how he’ll take them on adventures, how he’ll ensure they are the most beloved royal in all the realms.

You exchange a knowing look with Loki, and despite his usual exasperation with Thor, you see the affection there—the quiet gratitude that, for once, something truly belongs to him.

Telling Odin is the last step, and the most daunting.

He listens in silence as Loki delivers the news, his expression unreadable. For a long, unbearable moment, he says nothing. Then, finally, he nods.

“This is a great responsibility,” he says, his voice measured. “One I trust you both will bear well.”

It’s not the warmest reaction, but it’s not disapproval either. And from Odin, that’s as close to a blessing as one can expect.

Still, when you leave the throne room, Frigga is waiting outside, and the warmth in her eyes makes up for any lack of enthusiasm from Odin.

That night, as you lay in bed with Loki, his hand resting protectively over your stomach, you realize that this—this—is everything. A family. A future. A love that was never expected but now feels inevitable.

And as Loki presses a soft kiss to your temple, whispering promises to you and the child growing inside you, you know that the best is yet to come.

Time passes, and with each passing day, your belly grows, a visible testament to the life blossoming inside you. It is a sight that has Loki utterly, completely captivated.

At first, his fascination is subtle—his hands lingering on your stomach longer than necessary, his gaze constantly drawn to the curve of it when he thinks you aren’t looking. But soon, all subtlety is abandoned.

Loki becomes obsessed.

Any moment he can, his hands are on you—palming the swell of your belly, tracing idle patterns across your skin, murmuring to the baby with a voice so soft and reverent that it makes your heart ache. He presses kisses to your stomach constantly, sometimes speaking in the All-Tongue, whispering things only your child can hear. You don’t even have to say anything anymore; the moment you shift in discomfort, he is at your side, hands ghosting over your form, making sure you are well.

And then there’s the protectiveness.

It starts small. A firm hand on your lower back whenever you walk together, guiding you carefully through the palace halls. An unreadable look directed at anyone who dares get too close. A subtle clearing of his throat when someone asks too many questions about the baby, as if to remind them whose child you are carrying.

But soon, much like his obsession, Loki’s protectiveness grows.

One afternoon, you reach down to pick up something from the floor—a simple task, nothing strenuous—and before you can even grasp it, Loki appears out of nowhere, snatching it up before you can bend further.

“Absolutely not,” he says flatly, handing it to you as if it weighs a hundred pounds.

You raise an eyebrow. “It was a handkerchief, Loki.”

He doesn’t even blink. “And what if you had lost your balance? Fallen? Hurt yourself?”

You stare at him. “I am pregnant, not made of glass.”

But Loki only narrows his eyes. “As far as I am concerned, they are one and the same.”

And then there are the Asgardians.

The news of your pregnancy spreads through the realm like wildfire, and the reaction is immediate. Asgard is ecstatic. The streets erupt into celebrations, the people eagerly anticipating the arrival of their future prince or princess. Feasts are held in your honor, songs composed about the child who will inherit both your strength and Loki’s cunning. Children play in the streets, pretending to be the young heir of Asgard, already crafting wild tales of what they will be like.

But of course, Loki’s protectiveness extends to them as well.

You cannot take more than a few steps outside the palace without being swarmed by eager well-wishers, and though their joy is infectious, Loki is constantly watching them like a hawk, his hand never leaving yours.

The first time someone—an enthusiastic old woman—reaches out to touch your belly without permission, Loki’s expression darkens. His fingers tighten around yours, and his voice drops to a dangerously smooth warning:

“I would advise against that.”

The poor woman nearly faints on the spot.

You spend the next ten minutes reassuring both her and your husband that no harm was done, though Loki remains suspicious. After that, any Asgardian who dares approach you with hands outstretched learns very quickly that they must ask first.

And yet, for all his overprotectiveness, you know it comes from a place of love.

At night, when it is just the two of you, he is softer. He lays beside you, his hand resting over your belly, his long fingers splayed across your skin as if he still cannot believe this is real. He whispers to the baby, voice laced with wonder, making promises he would never dare utter aloud in the light of day.

“You will be safe,” he murmurs one evening, his lips brushing against your stomach. “I will make sure of it. No harm will ever come to you, or to your mother.”

His eyes flicker up to yours, and something in his expression makes your breath catch. It is rare to see Loki so openly vulnerable, but here, in the quiet sanctuary of your chambers, he allows it.

You reach down, threading your fingers through his hair. “We will protect them together,” you say softly. “As a family.”

Loki exhales, pressing another kiss to your belly before shifting up to capture your lips in a slow, lingering kiss.

And as you fall asleep in his arms, his hand never leaving your stomach, you know that no matter what comes next, you will never be alone.

Telling your family is the final step in making this all feel real.

The journey back to your kingdom is not long, but Loki insists on accompanying you. “You are with child,” he says when you raise an eyebrow at his concern. “I will not allow you to make this journey alone.”

“I have guards, and I am perfectly capable—”

“You have me,” Loki interjects smoothly, offering his hand. “That is all you need.”

You roll your eyes, but there is no real irritation behind it. The truth is, you are grateful for his presence. And when you arrive at your childhood home, stepping through the familiar halls, you feel the warmth of nostalgia settle over you.

Your father is the first to greet you, his eyes lighting up at the sight of you and Loki. “My daughter,” he says fondly before his gaze shifts, scanning you more carefully. A frown flickers across his features. “You look… different.”

Your mother tilts her head, sharp as ever. “Yes,” she agrees, a slow smile forming. “There is a glow about you.”

You exchange a glance with Loki, who gives you a small nod. Taking a deep breath, you reach for his hand and guide it to rest over your growing belly.

“We have come with news,” you say, your voice filled with quiet excitement. “Loki and I are expecting a child.”

For a moment, silence. And then—

Laughter. Cheers. Tears.

Your mother gasps, covering her mouth with her hands as her eyes shine with emotion. Your father’s proud laughter fills the room as he steps forward, clasping Loki’s shoulder in a rare display of affection. Your siblings (if you have any) immediately bombard you with questions—when is the baby due? Will they have your eyes or Loki’s? Can they teach the child tricks?

The celebration lasts for hours. Feasts are prepared, and your family ensures that Loki feels just as welcome as you do. For all his sharp wit and cool demeanor, he cannot hide the way his lips twitch upward at their excitement.

“You are truly happy,” he murmurs later, when it is just the two of you watching the stars from the balcony.

You turn to him, lacing your fingers with his. “Because I have you. And soon, we will have our child.”

Loki presses a kiss to your forehead. “Yes,” he murmurs. “Soon.”

The months pass swiftly.

Your belly swells with each passing week, and Loki remains as obsessed—and as protective—as ever. He insists on helping you with everything, from getting out of bed to ensuring you never so much as lift a finger. At first, you try to resist, but soon you realize it is easier to let him fuss than to argue with him.

And then, finally, the ninth month arrives.

The baby could come any day now.

The Asgardian healers constantly check on you, assuring Loki that everything is progressing as it should. But he still hovers. Every night, as you settle into bed, he keeps his hands on your belly, murmuring softly to your child, making sure you are both safe.

And then, one night, the moment arrives.

It begins with a sharp, sudden pain that rips you from sleep. For a moment, you think it is another one of the usual discomforts that come with pregnancy, but then the pain intensifies, and a low, involuntary moan escapes your lips.

Loki, ever the light sleeper, is at your side in an instant.

“Y/N?” His voice is thick with sleep, but the concern in his eyes is immediate. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

You clutch his arm, your breath shallow. “Loki… I think…” You wince as another wave of pain crashes through you. “I think it’s time.”

There is a beat of silence as Loki processes your words.

And then—

“It’s time?!”

He practically leaps from the bed, shouting for Frigga before you can even finish nodding. Within minutes, the entire palace is awake.

Frigga arrives swiftly, her expression calm but focused. The royal healers and several experienced women of the court follow close behind, ready to assist. Loki, however, is the opposite of calm. He paces restlessly, wringing his hands as he mutters to himself.

“Loki,” Frigga says firmly, placing a hand on his arm. “She will be fine. But you must be strong for her.”

Loki swallows hard, nodding quickly before rushing back to your side.

You grip his hand tightly as another contraction tears through you, a strangled groan escaping your lips. “Loki,” you pant, your face contorted in pain. “You’re crushing my fingers.”

He immediately loosens his grip, though his expression remains tense. “Apologies, my love,” he says, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “But you must squeeze as hard as you need.”

The hours drag on. The pain is unbearable, but you refuse to let go of Loki’s hand. He is your anchor, murmuring soft reassurances, brushing damp hair from your face, kissing your knuckles between contractions.

“Almost there,” Frigga soothes, her hands steady as she guides the process. “You are doing beautifully, my dear.”

Loki watches you with an expression unlike anything you have ever seen before. Awe. Fear. Love.

And then—

A final, agonizing push.

A sharp, piercing cry fills the chamber.

And just like that, everything else fades away.

For a moment, there is only silence, only the rush of relief as you collapse back against the pillows, chest heaving.

Then, through your haze of exhaustion, you hear Frigga’s gentle voice. “A daughter,” she announces warmly, carefully swaddling the tiny bundle in her arms. “You have a daughter.”

Loki makes a choked sound, his grip on your hand tightening.

A daughter.

Frigga steps forward, cradling the small, squirming infant before gently placing her into your waiting arms.

The moment you see her—your breath catches.

She is perfect.

Tiny, delicate, with soft tufts of dark hair and round, pink cheeks. When her eyes flutter open, they are a brilliant shade of green, so much like her father’s that your heart clenches.

Loki is utterly still beside you, staring down at the baby with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“She is…” His voice breaks. He swallows, reaching out with trembling fingers to trace the curve of her tiny hand. “She is ours.”

Tears prick your eyes as you watch him. “Yes, Loki,” you whisper. “She is.”

The baby lets out a tiny whimper, her small fingers curling around Loki’s. His breath shudders, and before he can stop them, silent tears slip down his cheeks.

Frigga smiles knowingly, brushing a soft kiss against your temple. “Have you chosen a name?”

You and Loki exchange a glance. You had discussed possibilities before, but now, looking at her, only one name feels right.

“Astrid,” you whisper.

Loki exhales shakily, nodding as he presses a reverent kiss to her forehead. “Our little star,” he murmurs.

The room is filled with quiet joy, the soft coos of your newborn daughter, the lingering warmth of family surrounding you.

And as you rest your head against Loki’s shoulder, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, you know without a doubt—

This is the beginning of something truly beautiful.

The first day of having Astrid is nothing short of overwhelming.

You wake to the soft cry of your newborn daughter, the sound piercing through the peaceful silence of the early morning. For a moment, you lay there in a daze, your mind still half-drifting in sleep as you listen to her cries. And then—

“Loki,” you whisper, your voice hoarse from the exhaustion of childbirth. “It’s time.”

Loki is beside you in an instant, his dark eyes wide with the same mixture of awe and terror that had been present when he first held her. “I know,” he mutters, running a hand through his already messy hair. “I heard her.”

Your little princess, only hours old, already has an impressive set of lungs. And when Loki carefully takes her into his arms, it’s as if she senses the opportunity to assert her will. Her tiny fists wave in the air, and her cries grow louder, sharper. Loki looks at her, wide-eyed, as if trying to figure out what to do next.

“She’s… she’s hungry, isn’t she?” Loki asks, his voice a little strained, as he shifts Astrid in his arms.

“I think so,” you reply with a yawn, sitting up. You’ve already fed her once before falling asleep, but newborns have a tendency to be demanding. “Let me try.”

You shift to pull Astrid closer, your hands shaking slightly as you reach for her. But as soon as she’s near, the crying only intensifies, her little face scrunching up in outrage.

Loki watches with wide eyes as Astrid wails, his face almost as concerned as hers. “Is she always this loud?”

“Apparently,” you say, trying to soothe her with gentle rocking. You glance up at Loki, unable to hide the faintest chuckle from your voice. “She’s already a menace, and she’s barely a day old.”

Loki frowns, but the corner of his lips twitches upward. “She is definitely your daughter.”

Despite your tiredness, you can’t help but laugh at that, a sound that feels strange after hours of intense labor. But the sound of your laughter calms Astrid down just enough for her to stop crying, and she latches onto your chest, beginning to nurse.

Loki stands by your side, looking down at both of you. “She is… so tiny,” he murmurs, his voice soft. He reaches out, brushing his fingers over her small head, his touch gentle. “And already so… demanding.”

“You’ll get used to it,” you say, your voice fond as you continue feeding Astrid. “She’s not going to let you off easy.”

Loki leans over and presses a kiss to your forehead. “I don’t mind,” he says, his voice quiet. “I will do anything for her.”

By mid-morning, it’s clear that your daughter has no plans of giving you and Loki a moment of peace.

Astrid refuses to sleep for long stretches, waking every hour or so to cry, demanding attention and comfort. Loki does his best to calm her, pacing the room with her in his arms, swaying gently as he tries everything in his power to soothe her. But nothing seems to work. The moment he sits down, she lets out another loud cry, and he’s back on his feet, bouncing her lightly, his voice low and soothing.

You watch him, amused and exhausted. “I told you,” you murmur, your eyes barely staying open as you sit up in bed, one hand cradling your daughter. “She’s a menace.”

Loki glares playfully at you. “I thought you said I’d have time to adjust to fatherhood.”

“I did,” you say with a grin. “But you’re learning very quickly, aren’t you?”

Loki sighs, but there’s a warmth in his expression, a tenderness that softens the usual sharpness of his features. “It seems as though she has no intention of allowing us any rest.”

You chuckle softly. “I’m afraid that’s true. But at least she’s ours.”

Loki looks down at Astrid, his expression filled with something unrecognizable—a mixture of pride, love, and the tiniest bit of fear. “She is.”

Just then, Astrid lets out another wail, her tiny face turning bright red as she starts to squirm in your arms.

Loki immediately springs into action. “I’ll take her,” he says quickly, leaning over and gently lifting her from your arms. He starts to pace again, his movements more frantic now. “What is it this time? Are you hungry again? Tired? Do you need—”

You smile at the sight of him. “She’s probably just gassy,” you say, trying to suppress a laugh.

Loki stops mid-pace, his eyes wide. “Gassy? How can something so small… be so loud?”

“She’s just working through it,” you say, leaning back into your pillows. “It happens. Trust me, you’ll get used to it.”

But Loki, despite the chaos, is calm, his touch gentle as he tries to settle her. He even starts humming softly, a tune you’ve never heard before, something low and soothing, just for her. Slowly, her crying begins to quiet.

“You’re a natural,” you murmur, eyes half-closed as you watch him.

Loki turns to look at you, a proud but weary smile curling at his lips. “Perhaps I am.”

The rest of the day is no less chaotic.

Astrid refuses to sleep for long periods, waking up every time you think you’ve finally managed to settle her. Loki continues to dote on her, but his patience is beginning to show the first cracks.

At one point, he carries her to you, his brow furrowed as if he’s at a loss. “I’ve tried everything,” he says. “She just won’t stop crying. What do we do now?”

You reach for Astrid, who, as if sensing her father’s distress, quiets immediately. You smile softly. “She likes to be close to me.”

Loki looks at you, then at her, his mouth pressing into a thin line. “And how do I fit into this equation?”

You chuckle as you rock Astrid gently. “You’ll have your turn, don’t worry. Right now, she just wants her mother.”

Loki crosses his arms, a bit put-out but not truly offended. “I suppose this is my life now,” he mutters. “Just… this.”

You can’t help but laugh, the sound light and carefree. “Oh, Loki. Don’t worry, you’ll be her favorite once she can talk.”

Loki’s eyes brighten slightly at that. “Really?”

You nod. “Really. And until then, you just need to be patient.”

“I am not used to patience,” Loki grumbles, but the corner of his lips twitches upward.

And so, the day passes—Astrid crying, then sleeping, then crying again. You and Loki barely have time to eat, let alone rest. But through it all, there is love. It is in every glance Loki gives you, every moment he spends with their daughter, every soft touch as he watches her sleep in his arms.

By nightfall, you are both completely exhausted. Loki collapses into the chair beside your bed, his eyes drooping, but he doesn’t stop staring at Astrid. You see the soft smile on his face, the way he still touches her with such reverence.

“I think,” you say, your voice heavy with sleep, “we’re going to have a long journey ahead of us.”

Loki sighs deeply, his head tilting back as he exhales slowly. “Yes,” he agrees, “but she’s worth it.”

You smile, your eyelids fluttering as the exhaustion finally catches up to you. “She is.”

And as you drift off to sleep, you can hear Loki’s soft humming once more, as if he’s trying to lull both you and Astrid into peaceful slumber. The chaos of the day fades away, leaving only the warmth of your family, together at last.

Astrid’s first steps are as monumental as they are unexpected.

One moment, she’s sitting on the floor, her little body teetering and swaying as she studies the world around her. And the next, she’s pushing herself up onto her feet, her tiny hands bracing against the soft rug beneath her. You and Loki exchange a glance across the room, both of you holding your breath as your daughter wobbles unsteadily, her eyes wide and focused.

Loki is on his feet immediately, ready to rush over to her if needed, but you gently take his arm to stop him. “Let her try,” you say, your voice a mixture of amusement and awe.

And try she does. Astrid takes her first shaky step, then another. Her arms flail out to her sides as she finds her balance, her legs trembling with the effort. For a brief moment, it seems like she’s going to fall, but then she straightens herself again, her tiny feet finding their way one after the other.

Loki gasps. “She’s walking,” he says, his voice full of disbelief.

You nod, a proud smile tugging at your lips. “She is.”

Astrid takes a few more steps, a grin spreading across her face as she realizes she’s doing something new, something important. You can see it in her eyes—a spark of excitement, the thrill of accomplishment.

But before she can get too far, she wobbles again, her balance faltering. With a soft thud, she sits down on the floor, her little legs splayed out beneath her.

You can’t help but laugh, a sound that makes Loki’s lips curl up in amusement. “She’s still getting the hang of it,” you say.

Loki shakes his head, his eyes glistening with something akin to wonder. “She’s so… so small.”

You approach her, crouching down as you offer her your hand. “You did great, sweetheart.”

Astrid looks up at you, her face lighting up with pride. She reaches out for your hand, her little fingers grasping at it.

Loki kneels beside you, his hand hovering just inches away from Astrid, clearly unsure whether he should pick her up or wait for her to reach him. But then, in the most unexpected of moments, she looks up at him, her expression intense.

“Dada,” she says, the word as clear as day.

Loki’s breath catches in his throat, his heart skipping a beat. For a moment, he just stares at her, frozen.

“Did she…?” you ask, unable to hide the surprise from your voice.

Loki, eyes wide and glassy, nods, though his lips are trembling. “She said it,” he breathes. “She said dada.”

Tears well up in his eyes, and you reach out to steady him as he kneels beside Astrid. He doesn’t speak for a long moment, his gaze fixated on her as if trying to comprehend what just happened.

“I never thought I’d hear it,” Loki whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “Dada.”

You press your hand to his back, offering him the comfort you know he needs. You’ve always known how much this moment would mean to him. It’s a sign—of everything he’s done, everything he’s become.

Astrid, still looking at him with innocent curiosity, giggles softly, oblivious to the profound effect she’s had on her father. Loki lets out a shaky breath and smiles down at her, his fingers brushing through her hair in a tender gesture.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs to her. “My little girl. My daughter.”

The months pass by, and with them, Astrid grows more and more. You and Loki find yourselves in a blur of milestones, each one more amazing than the last.

Her first teeth arrive one morning, when she’s playing with her favorite rattle, her mouth slightly ajar. You notice a slight shift in her usual babbling, a new sound that doesn’t quite belong. You peer down at her, only to find the tiniest glint of white peeking out from her gums.

“Loki,” you call, your voice excited.

He looks up from where he’s sitting, absorbed in his own work. “What is it?”

“Her teeth,” you say, motioning toward Astrid. “She’s got her first tooth.”

Loki gets up quickly, his eyes immediately scanning Astrid’s mouth. Sure enough, a small tooth is visible, barely breaking through the gum.

“That’s…” Loki’s voice falters, his emotions once again taking him by surprise. “She’s getting so big. It’s happening too fast.”

You smile softly, touching his arm gently. “They grow up so quickly. But it’s all part of it.”

Loki watches Astrid with a mixture of pride and bittersweetness. “I didn’t expect to feel so… overwhelmed. She’s so little now, and yet she’s changing every day. Soon she’ll be walking, talking…”

You chuckle softly. “She’s already talking.”

He nods, his gaze softening. “Dada.”

It isn’t long before Astrid’s first words become a bit more varied. She learns “mama” a few weeks after “dada,” much to your delight. But it’s “kitty” that seems to catch everyone’s attention.

One morning, as Loki is playing with her, a small tabby cat walks through the room. Astrid’s eyes light up, and she reaches out toward it, babbling happily.

“Kitty!” she exclaims, her voice high-pitched and full of excitement.

You freeze, turning to Loki. “Did she just say…?”

Loki, equally stunned, nods. “She did. She said ‘kitty.’”

Astrid grins at the cat, who seems oblivious to her excitement. She crawls toward it, her little hands reaching out to pet the animal, but the cat darts out of her way, much to her frustration.

“Kitty!” she says again, more insistently this time.

Loki chuckles softly, leaning down to scoop her up. “She already has her preferences.”

You smile at the sight of them, your heart full. “She’s growing so quickly. I can’t believe it.”

“I’m not ready for her to grow up,” Loki admits, his voice quieter than usual. “It feels like I blinked, and now she’s… saying words.”

“You’re doing great,” you say, offering him a reassuring smile.

But as the days go by, Loki’s protectiveness only grows. He watches over Astrid as she becomes more and more mobile, her curiosity leading her to explore every nook and cranny of the palace. She begins walking more confidently, her steps less wobbly, and her balance improving.

You find yourself laughing at her antics as she toddles around, mimicking what she sees. The other day, she tried to grab Loki’s cup of wine and nearly toppled it over. The look of determination on her face was enough to make you and Loki both laugh, though the incident was quickly followed by a stern warning that, no, Astrid was not allowed to touch his wine.

But the more she grows, the more she becomes a handful. Her toddler years are filled with discovery, questions, and an unrelenting energy that exhausts you both. And through it all, Loki stands beside you, equally smitten and overwhelmed.

By the time Astrid is two, she’s a little whirlwind of curiosity and endless chatter. She repeats words constantly, stringing together simple sentences with the clarity of someone far older than her age.

But there are still moments when she surprises you both with the things she says.

One evening, as you’re putting Astrid to bed, she looks up at you with a serious expression.

“Mama, dada,” she says, her tiny hands clutching the edges of her blanket.

You smile softly, brushing a lock of hair away from her forehead. “Yes, sweetie?”

“Love,” she says, her voice quiet but firm. “Love you.”

Loki, standing in the doorway, watches the scene with an expression of complete wonder. His heart skips a beat as Astrid’s words settle into the air.

“Love you, too,” he says softly, stepping forward to kiss her forehead.

You smile at Loki, reaching out to take his hand. Together, the three of you share a quiet moment, surrounded by the soft glow of the evening light. Astrid may be growing quickly, but she’s still your baby, and no matter how big she gets, she’ll always have your love and your protection.

Life at the palace with a toddler princess is nothing short of an adventure—a whirlwind of giggles, mischief, and the constant patter of tiny feet echoing through the grand halls. Astrid, now two years old, has fully embraced her royal upbringing in the most chaotic way possible.

She is adored by the people of Asgard, worshipped as their little star, their future. But more than anyone, she has her uncle Thor completely wrapped around her tiny fingers.

Thor, mighty god of thunder, is utterly smitten with his niece. His formidable strength and commanding presence mean nothing in the face of Astrid’s wide green eyes and mischievous smile. The moment she reaches for him, he is at her service, scooping her up into his arms with ease, letting her tug at his beard, climb all over him, and even demand stories of his grandest battles—though, of course, they are censored for toddler ears.

“I struck down an entire army with Mjolnir,” Thor boasts one evening, bouncing Astrid on his knee as they sit in one of the grand sitting rooms. “And do you know what they did, little one?”

Astrid gasps, wide-eyed. “What?”

“They ran!” Thor declares, making exaggerated motions with his hands.

Astrid squeals in delight, clapping her hands. “Boom!”

“Yes, boom indeed!” Thor laughs, setting her down so she can reenact the scene with all the dramatic flair of a warrior-in-training.

Loki, standing nearby with his arms crossed, watches the interaction with an unimpressed expression. “Wonderful. Just what we need. A two-year-old believing she, too, can strike down an army.”

“She can,” Thor argues, grinning. “She has the blood of warriors in her veins!”

Loki groans, rubbing his temple. “You’re encouraging bad habits.”

“Thor is fun!” Astrid insists, wrapping her tiny arms around her uncle’s leg in a show of loyalty.

Loki rolls his eyes. “Yes, well, Thor isn’t the one who has to keep up with you when you decide to start wielding weapons in the halls.”

Astrid beams up at Loki, her expression full of mischief. “Dada fun?”

Loki falters. His daughter has an uncanny ability to turn his heart into mush with a single look. He clears his throat, pretending to be unaffected. “Dada is fun,” he concedes, though his lips twitch in amusement.

Thor throws his head back and laughs. “She has you completely under her spell, brother.”

Loki scowls, but he can’t deny the truth of it. He would give Astrid anything she asked for, even if he pretended otherwise.

But unlike Thor, Loki is also the one who is painfully aware of every possible danger that could befall his little girl. His protectiveness borders on paranoia—watching every step she takes, ensuring she is never too far from his reach. He inspects every meal she eats, every toy she plays with, every person who dares to interact with her for too long.

It’s almost ridiculous, and you are the only one who can keep him in check.

“She is fine, Loki,” you tell him one afternoon when he refuses to let Astrid run freely through the palace gardens without staying two feet behind her.

“She could fall,” he argues.

“She will fall,” you counter. “That’s what children do. And then she’ll get back up.”

Loki sighs, watching as Astrid toddles through the grass, her little hands reaching out to grab at flowers. His jaw tightens when she stumbles slightly, but when she immediately stands back up and keeps going, you nudge him gently.

“See?” you say. “She’s strong, just like her father.”

Loki exhales, shaking his head. “I just… I can’t help it. She is so small.”

“She won’t always be,” you say softly. “Let her be little while she still can.”

Loki glances at you then, and for a moment, something shifts in his expression. His gaze flickers down to your hands, resting over your stomach, and a memory washes over him—of you carrying Astrid before she was even born, your belly swollen with life, the quiet nights where he had spoken to her before she ever took her first breath.

And suddenly, he wants it again.

It happens more and more often now—these moments where he catches himself staring at you, at Astrid, and thinking I want another.

He doesn’t say it aloud, not yet, but the thought lingers in the back of his mind every time he sees you holding Astrid, every time she reaches for you with sleepy little arms, curling up against you like you are the safest place in the world.

One evening, he finds you sitting in Astrid’s room, rocking her in your arms as she dozes off. He stands in the doorway, watching the way you hum softly under your breath, your fingers tracing slow, soothing circles against her back. The sight is so achingly familiar—reminiscent of when you had carried her inside of you, when you had cradled her before she was even big enough to sit up on her own.

A strange warmth spreads through his chest, a longing that he doesn’t know how to put into words.

You notice him watching and smile softly. “She’s finally asleep,” you whisper.

Loki steps into the room, his movements careful and quiet. He leans down to brush a kiss against Astrid’s forehead before straightening to meet your gaze.

You tilt your head at him, sensing something in his expression. “What is it?”

Loki hesitates, then shakes his head. “Nothing,” he murmurs.

But when he reaches out to cup your face, his thumb brushing against your cheek, the tenderness in his touch tells you otherwise. You don’t press him for answers—not yet. Instead, you lean into him, allowing the moment to stretch between you, filled with quiet understanding.

Later that night, when you’re lying in bed together, he pulls you close, his arms wrapping around you in a way that feels more desperate than usual. He doesn’t say it—doesn’t voice the thoughts swirling in his mind—but you can feel it in the way he holds you, in the way he presses soft kisses against your shoulder, lingering there like he’s trying to commit the moment to memory.

And though he doesn’t say it yet, you already know.

Loki wants another baby.

And deep down, you know you’re not opposed to the idea.

Loki doesn’t know why it’s so difficult to say the words.

He’s never been one to hesitate, never been one to stumble over his own desires. And yet, every time he looks at you, every time he watches you cradle Astrid in your arms, every time he sees her tiny hands clutching onto you as if you are her entire world—he can feel the words bubbling up in his throat, but they never quite make it past his lips.

It’s ridiculous, really. You are his wife. You are the mother of his child. And yet, for some reason, asking you for another child feels more daunting than anything he has ever faced.

But one evening, after an exhausting day of chasing after Astrid (who has apparently decided that she no longer requires sleep and will instead spend her time trying to climb every surface in the palace), he finally gathers the courage to bring it up.

You’re sitting in bed, rubbing your temples, looking like you are seconds away from collapsing into sleep when Loki clears his throat.

You glance at him, raising an eyebrow. “What?”

Loki hesitates for a fraction of a second before finally saying, “I want another child.”

Your hand freezes where it rests against your temple. You blink at him, eyes widening slightly. “I—what?”

Loki shifts uncomfortably, feeling oddly vulnerable. “I want another child,” he repeats, this time more firmly. “A sibling for Astrid.”

You stare at him, processing his words. Then, to his utter horror, you start laughing.

Loki scowls. “I fail to see what is so amusing about this.”

You shake your head, still chuckling. “Loki, have you met our daughter?” You gesture vaguely in the direction of Astrid’s room, where she is (hopefully) sleeping after a full day of causing chaos. “She is a menace.”

“She is two,” Loki argues.

“Exactly! And she already runs this palace like it’s hers.” You sigh, rubbing your face. “I mean, I do want another child, but are you sure we’re ready for that? Because last I checked, we can barely keep up with the one we have.”

Loki leans closer, his expression softening. “You do?”

You huff out a laugh. “Of course I do. But I’m just saying—”

“We’ll manage,” he insists. “We’ve done it before.”

You tilt your head at him. “Yes, but last time, Astrid wasn’t outside of me causing problems yet.”

Loki smirks. “So, you do admit she is a menace.”

You groan. “That’s not the point.”

Loki shrugs. “We will figure it out. I’m sure it won’t be that difficult.”

It is, in fact, very difficult.

The problem isn’t wanting another baby. The problem is having another baby when your current child refuses to allow you two a single moment alone together.

Astrid, despite her small size, has an uncanny ability to sense the exact moment you and Loki are about to have some time to yourselves and promptly decides that she desperately needs attention.

Every single time.

The moment Loki so much as touches your arm in that way, Astrid appears as if summoned by some ancient magic, demanding to be held, entertained, or carried around the palace like a tiny queen.

One night, after yet another failed attempt, Loki throws himself back onto the bed with an exasperated sigh. “This is absurd.”

You flop down beside him, equally frustrated. “Maybe we should explain to her that she needs to sleep in her own bed?”

Loki scoffs. “Oh, yes, because a two-year-old will surely listen to reason.”

You snort. “Okay, then what do you suggest?”

Loki groans, rubbing his face. “I don’t know. Perhaps we should leave her outside the door and simply refuse to open it.”

Unfortunately, he says this right as Astrid toddles into the room, clutching her stuffed animal.

She freezes, staring up at Loki with wide, betrayed eyes. “Dada?”

Loki immediately sits up. “I—”

Astrid’s lower lip trembles.

Your eyes widen in horror. “Oh, no.”

Astrid sniffs, her tiny face crumpling. “No leave me…”

Loki panics. “Astrid, no—”

But it’s too late. The wailing begins.

Loki stares, completely out of his depth, as his daughter throws herself onto the floor in the most dramatic display of devastation he has ever seen.

You immediately scoop her up, shushing her gently. “Sweetheart, no one is leaving you outside the door, I promise.”

Astrid clings to you, still sniffling, as she glares accusingly at Loki. “Dada mean.”

Loki sputters. “I was joking!”

Astrid is not convinced.

You shake your head at him. “This is your fault. You fix it.”

Loki sighs, reaching for his daughter. “Come here, my little terror.”

Astrid sniffles but allows him to take her, curling into his chest as he strokes her hair. “Dada loves you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Not leave me?” she asks, still wary.

“Never,” Loki says firmly. “You are far too troublesome for me to abandon now.”

Astrid sniffles again but finally relaxes, resting her head against him.

You shoot Loki a look. “Well done.”

Loki groans, leaning back against the pillows with Astrid still in his arms. “Remind me again why we want another one?”

You grin, settling beside him. “Because despite all this, we love her more than anything.”

Loki sighs. “That does sound like something I would say, doesn’t it?”

You laugh, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “We’ll figure it out. Even if it means getting creative.”

Loki smirks. “I do excel at creativity.”

You roll your eyes. “Not that kind of creativity, Loki.”

Astrid mumbles something incoherent against his chest, already half asleep again.

Loki glances down at her and sighs, knowing full well that if he moves, she will wake up and the entire process will start all over again. He looks at you, raising an eyebrow. “So much for alone time.”

You snuggle into his side, resting your head against his shoulder. “There’s always tomorrow.”

Loki sighs dramatically. “Assuming she allows it.”

You grin. “She has to sleep sometime.”

Loki smirks. “Then we shall simply have to be faster.”

You laugh, nudging him playfully. “We’ll get there.”

And as the night settles around you, with Astrid sleeping peacefully between you, you know that, somehow, you always will.

It takes time, but eventually, the stars align.

Astrid, for once, does not burst into your chambers at an inopportune moment. The palace is calm, with no pressing matters dragging Loki away. And for the first time in what feels like forever, you and Loki have time to yourselves.

It’s been so long since you’ve had a moment like this—where it’s just the two of you, no toddler interrupting, no duties looming over your heads. And when Loki kisses you, when his hands skim your skin with the same reverence as they did years ago, you feel it down to your bones.

It’s only after some time has passed that you realize the truth.

The signs are subtle at first—the feeling of exhaustion that lingers even after a full night’s sleep, the way your body feels off in a way that’s difficult to explain. But then, your blood does not come, and suddenly, you know.

You don’t wait to tell Loki.

The moment you confirm it, you rush to find him, nearly colliding with a servant in your haste. Loki, ever perceptive, notices your excitement the second you burst into his study.

His eyebrows lift as he sets his book aside. “What is it?”

You barely contain your grin. “I’m pregnant.”

For a second, Loki just stares at you, as if he’s waiting for you to elaborate, as if he’s not quite certain he heard you correctly. Then, slowly, a grin spreads across his face.

“Again?” he breathes, pushing to his feet.

You nod, barely suppressing a laugh. “Yes, again.”

Loki crosses the room in an instant, sweeping you into his arms and spinning you around. You laugh as he buries his face against your neck, holding you tightly.

“You truly are remarkable,” he murmurs. “Another child?”

You hum, brushing a hand through his hair. “Another child.”

Telling your family and the court is easy. Frigga nearly weeps with joy, pressing both hands to her heart as she declares that this is the best news she has ever received. Thor clasps Loki’s shoulder with enough force to nearly knock him over, congratulating him with his usual boisterous enthusiasm. Even Odin, while far more reserved, offers his approval, though it is clear that it is Frigga who carries the true excitement for this new addition.

The celebrations that follow are grand, as they were with Astrid, with the people of Asgard rejoicing at the prospect of another royal child.

But there is one more person who needs to be told.

Astrid.

You and Loki wait for the right moment, deciding to tell her when she is relaxed and happy rather than when she is in the middle of one of her many dramatic fits. Eventually, you find your chance, with Astrid curled up between you both, playing with one of her stuffed toys.

Loki is the one who starts. “Astrid, darling, we have something to tell you.”

Astrid glances up at him, her tiny nose scrunching. “What?”

You exchange a glance with Loki before smiling at her. “You’re going to be a big sister.”

Astrid freezes, her fingers tightening around her toy. She blinks up at you both, processing your words. “A… a big sister?”

You nod. “That’s right.”

For a second, she says nothing. Then, to your absolute horror, her lower lip wobbles.

Loki stiffens. “Oh, no.”

Astrid’s voice is tiny when she speaks. “You don’t love me no more?”

Your heart shatters.

“Astrid, no!” You pull her onto your lap instantly, pressing kisses to her hair. “Sweetheart, we love you. So much. That will never change.”

Loki immediately follows suit, cupping her little face in his hands. “My love for you will only grow,” he assures her. “Just as it did when you were born.”

Astrid sniffles. “But—but now you have a new baby.”

You shake your head. “And we will love them just as much as we love you. But that doesn’t mean we love you less. You will always be our first, our little star.”

Loki nods firmly. “Nothing could ever take your place, Astrid. You are my heart.”

Astrid sniffles again, considering your words. Then, cautiously, she asks, “Can I still be a princess?”

Loki lets out a breath of relief. “Of course.”

Astrid looks down at her toy, processing everything. Then, suddenly, her eyes brighten. “Will the baby be my baby?”

You laugh. “Well, not quite. But you will be their big sister. You’ll get to help take care of them, and they will look up to you.”

Astrid’s little chest puffs up at that. “I’ll be a good big sister.”

Loki smirks. “Oh, I do not doubt it.”

Astrid wiggles excitedly in your lap. “Can I teach them stuff?”

You nod. “Of course, sweetheart.”

Her excitement grows. “Can I tell them stories?”

Loki chuckles. “Yes.”

Astrid gasps dramatically. “Can I be their queen?”

You and Loki exchange a look before you grin at her. “Let’s… start with big sister, and we’ll see from there.”

Astrid pouts for half a second before nodding. “Okay!”

And just like that, all of her fears seem to disappear.

Later that night, as she sleeps curled up between you both, Loki wraps an arm around you, pressing a kiss to your temple. “I knew she would come around.”

You laugh softly. “I still can’t believe she thought we wouldn’t love her anymore.”

Loki exhales, tightening his hold on you. “She is young. But now, she knows. And she will be the most unbearably doting big sister imaginable.”

You hum, smiling as you look at your sleeping daughter. “You’re probably right.”

Loki shifts, his lips brushing against your shoulder. “And you,” he murmurs, “are carrying another miracle.”

You turn to face him, pressing a soft kiss to his lips. “I couldn’t do it without you.”

Loki smirks. “Well, I certainly contributed, didn’t I?”

You roll your eyes, laughing against his lips. “Go to sleep, Loki.”

And as the night settles around you, you know that this, this growing family, this love that surrounds you, will always be enough.

[avelera]

Oh I would love to hear more of your thoughts on Heimerdinger because all of my friends were like "aaw the poor guy, he was right about magic all along, Jayce and Viktor owe him an apology" and I'm like??? Heimerdinger literally does nothing to improve any situation ever! I was so hoping he'd learn his lesson under Ekko, but when he got stranded in an AU and just decided to stay there and permanently take over his other self's body and let his original timeline perish I was genuinely horrified by his complacency (again). TBH I would have really liked to see him confronted with the fucked up culmination of all the fiddling with the Arcane in person, because I think I wanted him to see that he was right, he was right and yet he didn't change anything in the end (I'd even argue that he gets away without facing the consequences of any of his failings, he escapes Jinx' bombs even tho he failed in politics and he escapes the Arcane Apocalypse even tho he failed as a guide to his pupils and Hextech safeguard.)

Heimerdinger is a super interesting character and I'm glad you asked this because the previous meta discussion got me thinking about him but I didn't really know where to begin. I'll try to break my thoughts down with some cohesion:

I do think Heimerdinger learned his lesson within the narrative but specifically with regards to his two demonstrated personal flaws. Heimerdinger's two greatest flaws within the narrative are:

1) A lack of understanding and empathy towards those with shorter lives

2 ) The way his immortality detaches him from actually living his life (which feeds into point 1).

This is going to get long though, so I'm gonna start picking apart what I see as Heimerdinger's flaws and his virtues and how those get addressed beneath a cut:

So as I said, I would argue that Heimerdinger's arc does address his core flaws. His moment of greatest personal cruelty is when he fails to recognize Jayce and Viktor's desperation and, instead of agreeing to help them and guide them to make their experiments safe in the face of their desperation for Viktor to live, he just tries to shut them down. He gets exactly what he deserves there.

Then, in the AU universe, he recognizes this and agrees to help Ekko. He then willingly sacrifices his own life to send Ekko back to the canon universe, where Ekko is instrumental in saving the day. That, I would argue, is Heimerdinger's redemption arc, and he needed a redemption arc.

Also, while he was in the alternate timeline, he learned how to live in the moment, which addresses his second flaw, which feeds into his first flaw. I don't blame him for not feeling urgency to return home, without Ekko, he had no way of doing so. It could be seen as complacency, or perhaps simply an understanding of the reality. Would that world have been a better place if he'd invented Hextech just for a shot at returning to his universe? I'd argue that he was trying to be selfless by not doing so, when we see how much damage Hextech did in the canon universe. I think he was simply at peace with a shitty situation for himself, rather than actively avoiding his responsibilities.

As for the other Heimerdinger, who knows! Was there even one? Do yordles only have one identity across the multiverse? Or was there an element of redemption in Heimerdinger choosing to take his alternate self out of the Council? We just don't know.

As for his political identity, Heimerdinger is super interesting there too. Technically, he's an immortal enlightened despot in Piltover as its founder. I think he hides this fact from himself by allowing a council of humans to sometimes outvote him, in a fig leaf over the fact he really doesn't have the right to govern a bunch of humans, and I think him getting voted out of the Council acknowledges and narratively punishes him for this fact. Piltover isn't as enlightened as he thought it was under his leadership, a fact he realizes when he goes to the undercity and realizes how blind he was. But I'd say those were his flaws, he was always blind and naive, not malicious. And I think the narrative punishes him accordingly by giving him a wakeup call that he was asleep at the helm. He doesn't deserve to be in charge anymore. Jayce was completely right to kick him out BUT, did things get worse without the peaceful, modulating view of Heimerdinger on the council? How would HE have voted for Zaun's independence? I'd be very curious to know.

And I think it should be noted, Heimerdinger does have virtues too! His caution towards Hextech is not only well-founded, he is 100% correct. I think people forget that Heimerdinger was never ambiguous on the subject of where Hextech would lead them, he was completely right that it corrupts, destroys, and lays waste to civilizations. There's no ambiguity there! He's completely correct!

He's also correct that there are scientific innovations that would be safer if they spent more time in testing before being made available to the wider world. It took 100 years for people to realize coal burning factories were measurably altering the world's climate. Another great example of an invention that should have been tested more before it was implemented was freon, which was used in early refrigerators and does measurable damage to Earth's ozone later to the point where it is now banned. What if instead more tests had been run?

Heimerdinger's long view of science is correct and in an ideal world, it'd be great if we could run these tests to their conclusions. However, the long view isn't the whole story, a debate that Arcane actively engages with.

Because it should also be pointed out: the refrigerator also helped improve people's health around to the world. Think of all the food and medicine that can be preserved today because of refrigeration! Literally thousands would have died if we had banned refrigerators until freon could be better studied.

That's kind of where Viktor is at vs. Heimerdinger. If freon-powered refrigerators can end hunger in the undercity, why aren't we applying it now? To which Heimerdinger answers: you don't know what else it might be doing to the world. They are in fact both correct! It's a debate! One the real world is still trying to figure out. Heimerdinger is an extreme case of the long view, and Viktor is an equally extreme case of the short view since he's frantic now that he has so little time to live. Jayce tries to balance the two and gets caught in the middle with everyone mad at him, poor guy.

Anyway, I think that covers most of what I had to say about Heimerdinger? Hope that helps!