#I gave up trying to format this

[fleabagdiaz]

all my little words

for summer of buddie week 1: mixed media (emails and texts and pictures oh my!)

literally just 11k words of the sillies exchanging emails while eddie is in texas post-s7 | rated T

summary:

Eddie: Did you just send me an email?? Buck: yeah lol Eddie: Why… I dont think you’ve ever emailed me actual words before. Just stuff to print when your printer is broken Buck: did you read it? Eddie: Not yet Too busy trying to figure out why the fuck you’re emailing me Buck: just read it dude 🙄

@summerofbuddie thank you so much for the prompt this was so fun!!

read on ao3

[kit-screams-into-the-future]

please draw werewolf doc when u have the chance

stick to physics, doc

transcript, bc my handwriting is shoddy but i'm too lazy to fix it:

DOC: duhuhhhh- Marty! MARTY: Yeah Doc what's up? DOC: You know that thing I was working on with Einstein? MARTY: Yeah, what about it? DOC: Well, uhhhh. How do I put this- MARTY: Oh my god, Einstein! MARTY: He's not- DOC: No, no, Einstein's perfectly alright, don't worry. It's just- DOC: There's been a... recent development. As you can see. MARTY: MARTY: (the floor calls to him.) DOC: Marty-

bonus doodles:

[lemememeringue]

unfair when I think automating a process should be very easy but it turns out to be very not

[deus-ex-mona]

farewell, my idiot son…

[roses-luckride-art]

My first post!!! Today me and a few friends had visited the Homestuck × Requiem Cafe and I ended up drawing these to celebrate!!!

[invisiblemelonmoose]

Silver: Congrats!

Kris: For what?

S: We're engaged-

K: Wait, WHAT?! We're not even dati-

S: - in battle!

K: ...O-oh... duh...

S: Wait, did you- ?

K: NOPE! DEFINITELY NOT! LET'S BATTLE!

Based off of this text post.

[applepies-and-starlight]

...so I completely forgot that (2) (more) people were interested in Siltcurrent. (Akuma!Ishmael)

Anyway I'm gonna be posting the text under cut because. It's A Lot. And there's a 10 image limit so I can't just screenshot my ramblings

Some Context for LCB moots/readers who have not seen MLB: Akumas are butterflies made by the show's villain (Hawkmoth) who target people experiencing negative emotions, usually said emotions influence how their villain self acts and what their powers are

Extra context for anyone confused: basically a while back I made an AU where Ishmael is the Ladybug (Scarlet Ardor) and Don is the Black Cat (Chatvalier). The aim of the game is bringing glory to yuriville here Also note that they're both in university in a modern AU where we aren't in the shitfest called the City for obvious reasons

Mid edit apple: now should probably be a good time to mention the entire context of the scenario here is that Ishy tries to confess to Don, gets rejected (as Ishmael) and accepted (as Ardor) at the same time. So in attempt to logic away her hurt she tries to figure out why Don likes Ardor better (Ishmael knows Don is Chatvalier (accidental); Don does not know Ishy is Ardor) but in doing so she attracts an Akuma and turns into Siltcurrent thanks faust

Mid edit apple 2: i'd like to clarify that 90% of these writings were written at 3am while i was delirious on sleep deprivation with all of my impulse controls dead on the floor

(Writings will be indented; ramblings will be in bullet points)

So! Siltcurrent! Ishmael Akuma!!

Akumatized late at night (roughly 11pm maybe) but it isn't noticable for the first few days

Illusion subset of powers; Siltcurrent conjures up a form of Ardor to try to keep up some form of normalcy

Omori vibes; as in, everything seems normal but there is something Wrong

Physiology:

Half-blind; Siltcurrent can only identify colors and vague shapes

Exception is Chatvalier/Don, she knows Exactly what to look for and it's Very Hard to trick her

Because Dream Devouring Siltcurrent reference, flouresents!

Bandages. Everywhere. Especially in the heart area

The bandage covering her chest is trying to hide a wound that looks like a lance ran through it

Constantly crying, like deadass her tears are flooding the place

Basically she looks like that fucked up Blind Obsession mer KoishiJSM drew

Oh, yeah, have I mentioned this fucker can break into your dreams?

It gently held her hands, adoration and malice waging war in its one visible eye, both combining into a new emotion that could only be possibly described as obsession.

"I love you," it said, gently kissing above her eye "I love hate love hate love hate..."

Its near-fanatical murmurs eventually petered out into a low whine, resting its head in the crook of her neck.

"You ruin me. Ruin me so much... I hate it I hate it, love you hate you love it love it please keep going please please please..."

(^^ this is a dream sequence; coincides with the last point i made)

(Siltcurrent keeps visiting don's dreams because her horrible compulsion keeps making her do it, otherwise she'd go even more insane for not acting on said compulsions)

Akuma has killed her impulse control so her intrusive thoughts are running rampant

She has at least enough self control to not go... Too Far, at least

(This lack of impulse control from "Ishmael" and "Ardor" is one of the things that tip off Don that something's wrong because honestly she's pretty smart despite what others say)

Very Avoidant of Don (as "Ishmael")

Like. Yk how ayano's like in yansim? Yeah basically

Mild yandere(?) mode now that i think of it

Like. She sees that Don's given someone else more attention than usual too and immediately tracks them down before pestering them about her (mainly like. Asking why she's been around them more, if they learned anything about her during their interactions, etc etc; comes off as overbearing and creepy)

It causes people to steer clear of don because nobody wants to deal with "ishmael"

This one needs screenshots i can't do it justice otherwise

Queequeg's..... Somewhere.

I don't know what exactly happens I just know the end result is that Ahab did A Thing and now our sailor has Trauma. Yk, usual limbus shit

Whatever the fuck happened broke Queequeg and her apart

Idk what it is exactly (could be death or other circumstance, probably the latter because.. cool leg) but whatever it is caused her to not quite. Open Up™ as a defense response

"I've been burned once, I don't want to be burned again"

"Don't go... don't go..."

Torrents of water began to fall from the sky, as if a god had punctured a hole in the clouds. Flooding the place and dragging her under.

"Please don't go..."

The thing pressed its body against her, eye searching for any reaction she had

"Empty... so empty... why do I keep breaking?"

"Why am I always hurt?"

"Is there something wrong with me?"

Don woke up again, managing to stifle a shout before she ended up waking the entire household.

(She swore she heard a choked sob off in the distance)

(^^ This one's a little rougher, but also another dream sequence)

(Side note: this one and the previous one were in italics because i used italics to distinguish my writing from my rambling in those entries and i'm too lazy to deitalicize them)

Ardor tentatively stepped towards Chatvalier, smile too stiff to be sincere; too wide to be human, her blue eyes desperately searching for something as she lifted a hand, only to awkwardly let it flop beside her.

(Her eyes were supposed to be green; a near-golden shade of olive that reminded Chatvalier of the first leaves heralding fall.)

"Hey, Chatvalier." Ardor spoke, her voice barely above a whisper yet still carrying through the space between them. "I..."

"Release Lady Ardor at once."

"Ardor's" smile faltered, her hands trembling with some deep-seated emotion.

"Chat, please." Its voice cracked as it took more steps towards the cat, "It's me, It's really-"

"Silence, wretch." Chatvalier spat, lowering her stance and pointing her staff at it. "Thou shall not decieve me; release her at once."

Its smile vanished completely, a tear sliding down its cheek.

Then, with a booming roar, a mighty wave crashed down on the fake.

(^^ beginning of what I like to call "Act 2", basically Don figures out Ishy's gotten Akumatized and something's Wrong with Ardor but instead draws the conclusion that Ishy kidnapped Ardor she mentioned she loved Ardor)

(Don't ask how I know my middle english I don't remember either (and if its janked anywhere please tell me))

Fun fact i originally used cur instead

But then i remembered the word wretch existed and went "yeah that's more in line with an absolutely pissed off Don"

"What do you want from me?!" The Akuma wailed, its head whipping around as it tried to find the flash of gold it so dearly adored, "Why are you doing this to me?!"

It screamed as it felt something stab into its tail, twisting around and throwing Chatvalier off of it, trying to shake off the pain from its mutilates tail

"Have I not told you, cur?" She shouted back, flourescent blood staining her boots as righteous fury burned in her eyes.

"Thou hath harmed mine lady, and it is mine duty to deliver retribution onto thee!"

(^^ I can't fucking figure out how I want the last line to go)

(The tail stabbing is a minor nowhere is north reference lmao; one of my drafts for siltcurrent's appearance is that she has twisted legs for a tail ala Mili's bathtub mermaid art)

Chatvalier watched in both horror and morbid fascination as the akuma writhed on the ground, screaming in frustrated agony as it clawed against its bandages, the fight all but forgotten.

"I DON'T HAVE ARDOR! I CAN'T GIVE HER BACK TO YOU!" It screamed at Chatvalier, tears overflowing as its voice went hoarse, "HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO?! WHAT DO I DO?! TELL ME!"

Before she could even formulate a response, or even a short quip, it dug its claws into itself, a guttural roar ripping out of its throat before a sickening thump landed on the rooftop.

A still beating heart rested at Chatvalier's feet.

(^^ something possessed me to write this and it just. Ended up becoming an important thing in my outline)

(Discord between me and @/scriptum-pandemonium (tell me if i you want these off tbe post pls))

Speaking of here's more stuff (spoilered because body horror (vague) which i added because. C'mon, this is a limbus au, i should be able to ramp up the violence to blood and (some) gore levels)

Hell yeah up the gore and horror

HOLY FUCKING SHIT THE HEART

:>

■■■

Delulu this akuma just has multiple hearts, octopus time

Honestly my original idea is that like, through magic bullshit she's still perfectly ok (still in pain because. Literally ripping your heart out. But. Y'know.)

If I may build on the banger lines you put down, maybe when it's over donqui pulls Ishmael in for a long hug just so she can hear the beating of Ishmael's heart in her own chest

:0

(Shoutout to Blue and the gang at Halcandra btw this was largely inspired by Magiajam)

Shaky, labored pants filled the silence between them. The villain's hair - Ishmael's hair, shadowed its face.

Only its eye was visible; the eye looking at her with so much manic hate, sadness, obsession...

Love.

The heart continued to faintly beat.

"Take it." She gasped, a bloodied claw gingerly covering the gaping, bleeding hole in her chest, "just take it and leave."

Chatvalier couldn't. How could she, anyhow? Anyone who saw such a grosteque sight would be paralyzed in shock, too.

A small sniffle snapped her out of her spiral, looking up to find the akuma desperately trying to wipe its tears away.

"Please..." it hiccuped, desperately trying to steady its breathing.

Then, a whisper.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorryI'msorry-"

It started wailing again, babbling a thousand apologies at once as it began to crawl back to the waves.

"I'msorryIcan'tbeherI'msorryIdon'tknowwhyyouloveherI'msorryIcan'terasetheuglymeandbebeautifulforyouI'msorryyouhavetoseemeuglyI'msorryI'mnotperfectforyou-"

Somewhere through the storm of sorrow, Chatvalier found that her feet had tried to bring her to the villain; to Ishmael.

But when she raised a hand to try and stop her, she was already gone.

All that was left was a patch of flourescent, bloodied water, and a single glass shard.

(^^ arguably one of my favorites; I am in so much pain!)

[...] sorry for being not ardor, for being ugly, for not being perfect [...]

It's been a few days since her confession. Ishmael has gotten over the rejection. Definitely. Yeah. It wasn't like... it wasn't like it was the end of the world or anything. She and Don were still friends. (Right?) (Right...) (....hopefully.) No, the self reflection notes weren't about Don. She was just... curious about herself. Yeah, that's it. Nothing to do with how she told her that she reserved her heart for Ardor. (She didn't even question it; she knew Don was Chatvalier, her annoying, endearing, ever loyal partner, who'd gladly throw herself into harm's way if it meant she'd be safe.) Nope. This was only because she saw a curious ad on the internet. A few days ago. (What did she do differently as Ardor?) She checked her notes again; a list of traits she'd describe herself as, another one for the her with the mask. (She impulsively checked her phone for the time.) (A small part of her scolded her for getting distracted so quickly.) What made her and Ardor different? What did she lack outside of the mask. She was just curious; absolutely nothing to do with the proverbial daggers in her heart. Nothing to do with impressing the girl who stole her heart. It's fine. She's fine. She isn't hung over it. It doesn't hurt. Does not hurt at all. Not in the slightest. In fact, she's over the rejection. She's perfectly fine! Just great. Peachy, even. Everything will go back to what it was tomorrow. She shouldn't be fretting over this, the weekends should be enjoyed right? So yes, she's fine. Nothing to worry about. It doesn't hurt. It doesn't... ... "Good evening, Siltcurrent."

(^^ this one's big, I just kinda gave up on editing this to fit tumblr format here)

(Anyway this is me trying to portray OCD and may or may not be me somewhat venting/projecting)

[...] Ishmael desperately trying to logic it together because she's fine it's not even a total rejection, Don Quixote just loved her hero self and not her ordinary self

[...] donqui is a bit self conscious because here she is, rejecting one of her best friends because of a what must seem like a celebrity crush that could never happen

[....] personally I like to think after the Realization™ (figuring out chalier was donqui) Ish started seeing her in a different light [...]

■■■

[...] theres something sad in Ishmael being the only one that realizes the truth, because Ishmael's been the one to see the entirety of Donqui as both a civ and chatvalier, yet Donqui can't because she thinks of ish as two separate people

Part of her is confused as to why Donqui sees it as that (she and Ardor are technically the same person right? They can't be *that* different)

The rest is just. Hurt. And is trying to grasp on straws to logic it away

■■■

Donqui loves ARDOR, which means she could've loved you but she didn't. Because you didn't win her over. Because YOU did something as Ardor so that Ishmael could never compete

Because it is "what does he have that I don't, what can he promise you that I won't" but to yourself

"Ishmael" is borderline manic 90% of the time (like, has the vibes that 1 wrong move will suddenly make her start laughing like a madman before she decks you)

She sometimes gets mental breakdowms over not being able to complete her goal (obtain the miraculous; [Acherontia] assures her that that isn't important right now

Doesn't really help much it just stops her immediate crying and makes her internalize the guilt more

This + her core motivation + everyone now looking at her weirdly compounds into siltcurrent just. Fucking flooding the entire place with her tears (this is when act 2 starts)

Ishmael hovered awkwardly at the edge of the door, practically hiding behind it with the way she positioned herself. "...uh, hey-" She barely started talking before Don was crashed into her, wrapping her arms around Ishmael's waist as she buried her head into her chest. (She could hear the gentle heartbeat under Ishmael's clothes; soft, but steady.) (Strong.) She felt Ishmael flinch at the sudden gesture, but she couldn't find herself to care. "I- woah, now." Ishmael stammered, awkwardly patting Don's head in a subtle attempt to pry her off, "Was... was I really that bad? I know Akumas don't last longer than a day, but..." She trailed off, her ears finally picking up on shallow, stifled gasps as she felt something wet on her shirt. She instinctively wrapped an arm around her, rubbing gentle circles on her back as Don tried to hold back her tears. "Hey, it's okay... I'm okay now." She mumbled, still somewhat awkward from the chain of events, "whatever happened to me is over now, yeah? I'm better now." (She didn't know that Don knew who she was, unaware that a blinded mermaid had begged her to know why it wasn't loved without a mask.) (She didn't know that Chatvalier stood on the roof of a building, holding a bloody, heartless body. Desperately trying to ignore the gaping wound in favor of pretending her Lady was simply asleep.) (If she convinced herself that the blood wasn't real, then perhaps...)

(^^ epilouge scene, basically)

(There are Consequences to gouging out your heart)

Me, at 3am, high on sleep deprivation: i know this is a kid's show, but you know? We've never seen an akumatized villain that was terribly injured detransform before the Cure kicked in

Lady Sonata ex machina I can't have yuri if one of them is dead

The peacock can literally make life from a will and a way ans G is more than competent enough to make ladybug and cat senti-copies to emergency stand in incase one gets incapacitated (also i want a pun on Ardor (Ardoll... heh))

[intomybubble]

I'm just about finished with My Little Inferno, and the ML (the LI) is so pathetic omfg. I feel like I'm reading Dame na Watashi ni Koishite Kudsai due to the main leads both being fucking losers (the FL in Dame na is in a dead end relationship and is practically a sugar mommy who ends up in debt to support her BF which almost leads her to being sold into prostitution. Her attitude isn't great either). Like if I could get a hot guy to fall head over heels in love with me even after he witnesses me puking, pissing, and crying myself out of fear and getting hassled by old bullies (if only I were a BL protag bc he'd think I'm cute), I would think something is wrong with him and that I probably made it in life. The ML isn't particularly... useful. The only thing he has going for him is being cute and short, and being needy towards the LI. The LI makes for a good house husband.

Based on the cover art for the manga, I would've thought it was really dark (like Killing Stalking or Blind play) but its mostly just about cyber crime and embezzlement and sorta the yakuza (mostly mentioned, briefly seen). To an extent, this series sorta reminded me of Semantic Error, but only because of the computer stuff though. Otherwise, I sorta like the slice of life aspects. I think the crime stuff is sorta underbaked. I wish there was more risk or something to make things tense bc the only thing was ML's mom getting get info stolen and getting $300k in debt.

[taxi-boi]

[violentlydefending]

Task Gained: End-of-Day Debrief with Harry

A Disco Elysium roleswap AU.

JOIE DE VIVRE [Easy: Success] – His hand on your shoulder was warm and comforting.

OUTSIDER – It felt unfamiliar.

MEMENTO MORI – It felt undeserved.

REGIME – It felt like you were being condescended to.

FANTASTIQUE – It felt like something out of a dream.

LEGERDEMAIN – It felt like a trick.

ANIMUS – It felt like an attack.

JOIE DE VIVRE – Holy shit, dudes. I just thought it felt nice. Sure netted you a solid hit of dopamine, at least.

---

SLUTTY FINGERLESS GLOVES – It was a joyride, gēge! A short-lived one, but we had fun!

SPEED-FREAK – Right on, slut gloves!

(you can read the whole thing here!)

[makkie-is-screaming]

1,9, and 22 for the ask gamee

what’s your favorite song? changes constantly but right shameful company by rainbow kitten surprise is my favorite. 9. what’s your favorite television show? Adventure time. It’s just such a good cartoon, I still watch it all the time.

22. What’s your favorite day of the week? Thursday is just superior to all other days.

[woodelf68]

EXPECTING

A late fill for the @sifkiweek prompt "Expecting".

When he hears the news

He is both overjoyed and terrified.

He cannot help but think of blue skin and red eyes,

A giant freezing her from inside,

Growing too large to be born.

Sif waits for his response

As he remembers you were small for a giant’s offspring,

And his mother’s voice, later, adding

But just the right size to fit into my arms.

His size is his own in either skin

And by all the laws of shapeshifting

Any children should take after

The form he sired them in.

He’d made as sure of that as possible

Before wedding Sif;

Both his parents had seemed confident of it

And he’d found naught in books

To suggest otherwise.

He takes a deep breath,

And Sif, watching, takes his hand,

Guessing something of what he is thinking.

Eir says I am fine, she says, firmly.

The sickness is normal.

Sheer force of will has gotten her much in life

She refuses to entertain doubts not shared by every Aesir couple

Until given reason to do so.

Their babe will be perfect.

He takes her into his arms,

And reassures her that he wants this

But he does not hide his fears, either,

For they have sworn there will be no secrets between them,

And it helps, to say them out loud

So they cannot eat at him from the inside.

He brings her ginger tea every morning

And dry toast

And holds her hair back when needed.

At lunchtime she eats heartily.

Count yourself lucky, says Frigga,

Ecstatic with the news of her coming grandchild.

I had it all hours of the day with Thor.

She remembers her exhaustion, and weight loss,

More than was healthy

And Eir fearing she would lose the child.

She remembers Odin swearing

That he would not ask her to bear another.

It had passed at last, though,

And Thor had been worth it;

She had been ready to ask for another child

(Second children were oft easier, they said)

When Odin had returned from the war,

Save that her second son had been laid ready-made in her arms.

She looks at Loki and smiles.

She would have borne it all again, for him,

The nausea and the birthing pains and all the rest.

She does not regret missing them

But she would have liked the memory

Of Loki growing strong within her.

The scale balances.

Sif counts her blessings.

The nursery is opened up and aired out,

Dust sheets removed.

In the outer room is a couch

And two armchairs facing the hearth.

In the small dining area a cupboard

Holds child-sized cups and dishes.

There is a window seat looking over the gardens,

Low bookshelves waiting to be refilled,

And best of all

A wooden longship

Just the right size for two boys

With a cloth sail that can be raised and lowered.

Two wooden shields hang over the side;

Two black ravens on a green field adorn one,

A red dragon in a blue sky the other.

It was only supposed to be one raven, says Loki wryly,

But father’s ravens kept arguing about which one of them I had drawn,

So I had to paint another.

Sif looks at the raven which is centered neatly on the shield.

Which one had you drawn?, she asks.

Munin, he says. He liked posing.

He looks wistfully at the mast,

No longer towering above his head,

And remembers the days when the painted hull

Could hold all of his dreams

And Thor’s too

As they told each other stories

Of what they would do one day,

Quests and battles and magic and ruling side by side.

They used to fill the hull with pillows and blankets, says Frigga

When they were done adventuring for the day,

And fall asleep curled up together like puppies.

Sif is delighted by the image.

Loki thinks he's never had a cosier nest to read in.

Frigga fetches rugs for the floor

From a closet down the hall,

Emerging to pass one to Loki.

He lays the thick fleece down in front of the fireplace

Needing no instructions;

Sif thinks of sitting in the timeworn chairs

And watching their babe play on the soft, warm fleece.

It will feel odd to take Father’s chair, says Loki

Running his hand along the rich tan leather.

You may bring in another, says Frigga,

Loki sits down in the chair, experimentally.

No, he says.

Frigga thrusts one end of the second rug at Sif.

In the corner with the ship, she says

Unrolled, the pattern is all cheerful, bright colours

And Sif feels excitement stir

As do the white curtains at the window

Blowing inward with the breeze

Filling the room with fresh air.

This a warm and welcoming space

A good place for a child to grow up in

Almost she can hear the laughter of the two young princes

And can easily see them in her mind’s eye,

Loki snuggled up with a book in the longship,

Thor playing soldiers on the floor

Frigga watching them and smiling

As she spun thread for her loom.

The empty shelves beckon her to fill them.

And as if reading her thoughts, Loki heads for the closet,

Big enough to walk into, Sif finds as she follows him in.

He lifts the lid of a chest and passes it to her,

Picking up another with a grunt at its weight.

A princely collection of books and toys.

They sort through them, choosing those suited to earliest childhood    

To return to their shelves,

Leaving room, on Frigga's advice,

For more mundane things like baskets of diapers 

And other daily needs.

Frigga sits down in the rocking chair by the window,

Remembering far-off times with a child in her lap.

First lesson, she tells Sif

Is that babies like to be rocked. 

She notes her son has started flipping through a book

And reminds him there is more yet for Sif to see

And he can re-read his books later.

Sheepishly Loki puts the book down

And gestures Sif down the hallway.

On one side is a large bathroom

And a small bedroom for a nursemaid.

She only slept here when we were little, he says,

He remembers her changing his sheets

In the middle of the night

When he’d wet the bed

Without a word of fuss or censure

And wonders what she is doing

And whether she would be interested

In the care of another royal baby.

Across the hall is the larger bedroom,

And Sif is charmed by the two neat beds,

The head and footboards beautifully carved, Well able to remember the young princes

She’d once played with.

She follows Loki’s glance to the side

And sees the horse, pure white,

Suspended in mid-charge on its rockers

No tame mount this

But a warrior’s steed with flashing eyes

Elegantly caparisoned

With flashing eyes

And open mouth

Across which a real bit lies    

Attached to a real bridle

Which a child might buckle and unbuckle

The leather still soft and supple after all these centuries

Preserved no doubt by magic

She strokes the saddle

(A functional girth, adjustable stirrup irons)

And wishes with all her heart that she were a child again

For the pleasure of riding it just once.

Always they played in the gardens,

Or the public areas of the palace

And she is about to demand why

She was denied the pleasures

Of wooden ships and horses

But then thinks she understands.

This was the heart of their home,

A place for family,

A sanctuary at the end of the day,

And the horse could only hold one rider at a time.

She wonders why.

He was Thor’s first, Loki explains.

By the time I was old enough to ride him

Thor had a real pony

And he let me have Cloudspinner most of the time.

If Cloudspinner had a friend, Sif says

Two children could rock side by side

And pretend that they were racing.

We haven’t had our first yet, says Loki.

Thor might provide the second, Sif says.

Frigga looks pleased at the thought.

We could easily fit another horse in here, she says,

And more children besides, she thinks, 

Envisioning bunk beds

And a new generation of children

Playing happily together.

She pulls something out from a corner

And lovingly uncovers the cradle.

Loki traces the highly polished wood,

Runes for protection and health and happiness, 

And peaceful sleep and sweet dreams

Carved into its surface 

Amidst beasts of the field and forest.

He smiles to see the two ravens carved into the headboard

To guard over a babe’s sleep.

Did Father have this made, he asks.

Yes, she says, it has held two princes;

Your child will be the third.

She gently sets the cradle to swinging.

Munin  used to perch on the side

And demand to be rocked;

Hugin had too much dignity to ask

But figured out how to get it moving himself,

Much to your delight. 

No wonder, thinks Loki, 

That he has always liked his father’s ravens.

The queen brings out one more box of baby things

And seats herself next to it on the nursery rug

As if she were still a young mother about to play with her child

Instead of a soon-to-be grandmother.

She pulls out the box’s contents

One at a time

Each one rich with memories to be shared

Until Sif can see a baby Loki in her mind’s eye

Grabbing for the golden rattle

Or for the rainbows dancing in the air

From the prisms of the mobile moving gently above him.

Loki leans into his mother’s shoulder,

Sure of his place there

And takes a soft toy she pulls out with a smile.

The love is tangible between them.

Sif is not sure what kind of a mother she will make

But she wants that to be her and her child one day

With a box of memories to share between them.

Names are suddenly important.

Names are for life.

They keep an ongoing list of names they like

Adding to it and crossing off as the months go by.

Loki pondiers names whenever his mind is free

And wonders how his mother chose his

When presented with a babe with no warning.

It was as if the Norns whispered it into my ear, she says.

The Norns are whispering nothing to him

He wonders if he will know the perfect name when he sees it

Their list narrows when they learn they are having a boy.

The morning sickness passes and Sif glows,

Radiant and demanding, 

Her desire for her husband sharp

Loki is an eager and willing lover;

When his body is wrung dry 

And will no longer rouse again for her

He still has hands and a mouth;

He will not leave her unsatisfied.

But even he has his limits

And one night, exhausted,

He creeps away once she has fallen asleep

And seeks a respite in the quiet of the night kitchens

And a restorative drink.

His father finds him there

Nursing a mug of something warm and fragrant

Odin puts down the bottle of wine

That he has brought up from the cellars

And considers his son, and the tousled mess of his hair.

You look like you’ve been ridden hard, he says bluntly,

And put away wet.   

Loki nearly chokes on his drink,

For it is an apt description.

Sif has been…demanding of late, he says delicately.

And then decides he is too tired to mince words.

In bed, he clarifies,

Though their activities have not been confined

To so limited a space.

Odin’s face clears,

For there are some things a man never forgets.

The first time he felt Thor kick under his palm

And the time that Frigga swept into the throne room

And nearly dragged him into his study

In front of all the court,

Saying she had urgent need of the king

And then proceeded to show him exactly what she needed him for

Are both vivid in his memory.

Ah, he says, it took your mother that way too.

Loki tries not to think about this;

The fact that it was only Thor who affected their mother in that way does not help

For he then wonders if Frost Giants are affected by pregnancy in the same way,

And that is even worse.

Odin stands and clasps Loki’s shoulder sympathetically

Enjoy it while it lasts and find your sleep when you can,

He says, one husband to another.

There will be a dry spell after.

He holds up his wine cheerfully.

Your mother is waiting, I must go.

Loki does not think too hard on what his parents might be doing tonight

But hopes that one day that will be him and Sif

Still in love, growing old together

And embarrassing their children.

In her rooms the queen weaves a welcoming gift for her grandchild

(Concealed under a cloth from visitors' eyes,

For she will have it be a surprise.)

Sif’s mother crafts soft ivory baby gowns

And tiny, colourful caps and booties.

We will plant a tree for the baby when they come, Frigga says,

Another choice to be made.

Thor had an oak planted for him,

Loki, a birch,

Its papery bark as white as the Jotunheim snows;

They grew tall and straight together.

Perhaps their child shall have a willow, Loki thinks,

With limbs that bend and do not break.

Sif is round, heavy with child when she wakes from a dream

Of a child with laughing blue eyes who looks up

When she hears her own voice calling his name.

It is one of several still on their list,

The babe still a few weeks from coming.

She tests the sound of it out on her tongue.

Ullr, she whispers into the dark.

Having seen him (beautiful, perfect),

She knows it is right.

Loki stirs behind her,

His hand resting protectively over their child.

Hm? he asks, and she heaves herself over to face him

Because this is important.

Ullr, she says. Our child’s name is Ullr.



[hoshiszora-archived]

"Hito hira hanabira  Ore no hoo ni maite ochiru Kaeri chi abite  Muzan chiru imi wo kono mune ni tou"

Rules | About | Mun

Art by yomiyuarts

[almostyours]

click  to  help  palestine.    purchase  an  e-sim  for  gaza.    support  gaza  municipality  funds.

ÆNGELS  OF  THE  SEASON  계절의 천사들  is the pre-debut project created in 2018 to introduce the concept and the members of MIGHTY  DEVIL’s newest female trio,   hiræth  히라스.   this ambitious but unique project consisted of three individual and lore-heavy films,   two unique tracks from each member,   photo exhibitions,   small theater shows,   and limited edition merchandise leading up to the group's official debut.

this project not only introduced the members’ styles and visuals to the public,   but also emphasized their unique identities and sound through individual films that gained attention due to their distinct and eerie plotlines.   each member was revealed under a seasonal full moon before debuting as a full group of three under the full moon of the autumn season.   this approach started on JANUARY 3 and continued until the group's official debut on OCTOBER 24 of the same year,   gaining significant attention domestically,   charting on digital platforms despite being mere debuts,   and earning a solid and loyal fanbase of angels who became fascinated by the lore behind their concept,   as it seemed the members were luring the listeners to join their "cult" of self-acceptance,   love and anger through the feeling of hiraeth.

initially planned as a group of four,  former member and leader NARI was removed near the end of summer when her true nature as a bully was revealed to the public.  her removal led to her complete disappearance from the industry,  and neither the members nor their label have mentioned her since.

despite not participating in any music shows for undisclosed reasons during the period of their debuts,   promotions included content such as performance videos,   small theater concerts that were sold out within hours,   and photo exhibitions set in gangnam-gu,   seoul,   along with limited edition merchandise and photobooks.

hiræth made their official,   and very awaited debut with their successful and critically acclaimed promotional single SOLAR  ☼  SYSTEM on OCTOBER 24,   earning them their first win as a group,   the title of MONSTER ROOKIES,   accolades and victories from prestigious award shows and critics.

ANGEL OF THE SEASON: YVAN is the debut single album released on JANUARY 2, 2018 as part of MIGHTY DEVIL’s project,   ÆNGELS OF THE SEASON.   it was released on the first full moon of WINTER 2018 to showcase YVAN with two tracks and the film titled ANGEL OF THE SEASON: WINTER.

★   .   THE  TRACKLIST

GLASSY

블루 노스탤지아 BLUE NOSTALGIA

★   .   THE  PLOTLINE

WHO AM I?   the angel of winter, born from a snowflake under a moonless sky in the first plane of your world, celestia. you are new and inexperienced, perhaps a little hesitant while at the palace, and that’s what makes everything more fun, even if it means you doing things over and over. after all, you will never experience repercussions if something ever goes wrong.

LOOP?   you think you are no longer inexperienced and innocent, so you strangle your old self and lay them to rest in a pretty casket, dressed in a white and pristine gown. you hold a personal funeral for your old self every single day, repeatedly closing the casket whenever they awaken to your smiling self. one day, you gaze down at your smiling and innocent self surrounded by beautiful flowers and daisies, and you were devastated. why won’t you just leave yourself alone?

FORBIDDEN FRUIT?   your forbidden fruit is the strawberry, something you didn’t realize until you took the first bite in the comfort of your bedroom, away from anyone's eyes. you were upset when you liked it, but also confused. why did you eat it? would it be silly to say that the seashell told you to do it?

AM I PERFECT?   someone who calls themselves as the palace’s headmaster wants to see you perform. you are not perfect, but you’re enough. now do it, again.

PRINCIPLE?   you are enjoying your time here, but you can only hope this is not everything that is. you want more.

MY COLOR?   your color is green, only displayed in the skirt of your uniform, but you find comfort in the color blue as you learn more about yourself.

ANGELS?   none that you remember. you didn’t see the face of the angel that was being scolded by the headmaster... and there’s something telling you to meet one on the rooftop of the palace.

WHAT DO I CONVEY?   you are happy and excited. you are warm despite being being born in winter. you mean well. but you are also scared. you are cold, you are cruel, but you are trying your best.

END CREDIT?   you are wearing white when opening the entrance door of what you call home to walk into the dark. you are opening up to darkness despite your pristine persona, because there’s more to celestia, it seems.

★   .   THE  NOTES

yvan wasn't open about their identity yet, so they were referred to as she/her.

their debut was very well received and celebrated, but there were some critics stating that the songs chosen for their debut didn't do them justice as someone known as a powerhouse vocalist.

due to idols' fascination with covering this song, their b-side track BLUE NOSTALGIA continues going viral every now and then—a humorous twist since it was heavily criticized when it was first released.

they co-wrote GLASSY with fellow member kaia, who contributed to the songwriting for both tracks.

WINTER'S FILM was an energetic and very fun video to re-watch, but it wasn't until SPRING'S FILM was released that angels and netizens started noticing connections between the two. this is where theories began to emerge and WINTER'S FILM's views skyrocketed.

during one of their few theater shows, yvan was seen wearing a skin-colored patch across their arm, raising questions and concerns from fans. they claimed that they were simply covering up a tattoo, but years later, it was revealed they didn’t have a tattoo to begin with. this remains a mystery among angels.

MIGHTY DEVIL released the pre-order link to the limited physical albums of their debut when the ængels of the season era was just around the corner. yvan's single album was the third best-selling album from the ængels of the season series. since it was a limited release, these copies are now quite expensive.

★   .   THE  MERCHANDISE

MINYV, mini plush toy

WINTER TAP, both normal and mini keychain

TAROT DECK: WINTER

ANGEL OF WINTER: ACT III, photobook

ANGEL OF THE SEASON: POPPY is the debut single album released on MARCH 31, 2018 as part of MIGHTY DEVIL’s project, ÆNGELS OF THE SEASON. it was released on the first full moon of SPRING 2018 to showcase POPPY with two tracks and the film titled ANGEL OF THE SEASON: SPRING.

★   .   THE  TRACKLIST

INVU

플라스틱 캔디 PLASTIC CANDY

★   .   THE  PLOTLINE

WHO AM I?   the angel of spring, born from a daisy under a sky with three moons in different phases, in the center plane of your world, the otherworldly terra media. you are the personification of a perfect angel: disciplined, grounded, a believer in celestia’s doctrine, and bitter. does anyone know that “mother” personally stopped you from indefinitely cutting out of your perfect and beautiful loop to fall into temptation?

LOOP?   you've been repeating the same actions over and over, and now that you're aware of it, it troubles you deeply. but what else could you do at this point? perhaps your life has always mirrored the ballerina trapped in the toy box by your window—an enigmatic presence that speaks to you when you're alone, much like listening to the cassette tape that evokes memories of a better time, one that may never have truly existed, so you keep rewinding and rewinding instead of moving forward. 

FORBIDDEN FRUIT?   your forbidden fruit is the apple, which you ate with delight when someone placed a shiny one on your plate during a fancy banquet dinner you attended. why did you eat it without feeling guilty? is it because a voice through your headphones reminded you of how good sin tasted? does that mean you've sinned before?

AM I PERFECT?   the headmaster applauds every time you perform for her. you are perfect, yet you aren’t content. perhaps you never will be, so keep at it until you're much better.

PRINCIPLE?   you are angry and bitter, but after all this time, you still believe in love. 

MY COLOR?   your color is blue, visible only in the skirt of your uniform and the ribbons in your hair. yet, it's the purple of the crocuses you tend in celestia's garden that truly makes you feel at home.

ANGELS?   you don’t remember; you barely pay attention to anyone, instead reminiscing over things that may have never happened.

WHAT DO I CONVEY?   you are grounded, tranquil and eerily quiet. you are also exhausted and bitter. you’ve accepted it, everything, but that doesn’t mean you’re content with your doctrine.

END CREDIT?   you are on the palace rooftop, gazing up at the dark and moonless sky, reminiscing about the days when you could witness different moon phases back home. you aren’t even surprised when another angel, dressed in a dark green skirt, joins you up there.

★   .   THE  NOTES

her debut was very memorable due to the stark contrast of her title track against the girl crush craze prevalent at the time. to this day, everyone agrees that INVU is one of the strongest solo debuts in the industry.

poppy produced PLASTIC CANDY by herself and still refers to it as one of her best works to this day.

SPRING'S FILM was applauded for its beautiful and eerie plot, despite its dreamy and tranquil-like visuals. her acting and dancing also received high praise, attracting many choreographers to recreate the contemporary piece of the choreography. INVU recently has gone viral, leading to the creation of a tiktok dance for it by a popular influencer because the original choreography was never intended to be tiktok-friendly.

poppy wasn't the biggest fan of INVU, though, and this is something she revealed yeaaaaaars later when the song suddenly went viral.

everyone and their momma's know the INVU hand sign, though!

poppy's single album was the second best-selling album from the ængels of the season series. since it was a limited release, these copies are now expensive.

★   .   THE  MERCHANDISE

MINPY, mini plush toy

SPRING TAP, both normal and mini keychain

TAROT DECK: SPRING

ANGEL OF SPRING: ACT II, photobook

ANGEL OF THE SEASON: KAIA is the debut single album released on JUNE 28, 2018 as part of MIGHTY DEVIL’s project, ÆNGELS OF THE SEASON. it was released on the first full moon of SUMMER 2018 to showcase KAIA with two tracks and a film titled ANGEL OF THE SEASON: SUMMER.

★   .   THE  TRACKLIST

SINGING IN THE RAIN

멜로디 MELODY

★   .   THE  PLOTLINE

WHO AM I?   the angel of summer, born from a seashell under a sky with a crescent moon, in the bottom plane of your world, the normal but abstract terra. you are what they call a rebel, always longing to go past the rules and see more outside the wall they've built around you. you have lost focus in celestia and are mostly interested in what lies beyond. is it because you believe and know you and others can do more than do the same thing over and over?

LOOP?   you've embraced the loop for so long that you've grown bored of it, which has made you rebel and change aspects of yourself because, in the end, everything will go back to zero. but you don’t want to continue living that life, no?

FORBIDDEN FRUIT?   your forbidden fruit is the watermelon, which you happily ate when it was presented to you. this is something you wanted and needed to do, just as you needed them to sin, too.

AM I PERFECT?   the headmaster labels you as a lost cause. no matter how many times you perform for her, it’s never enough, and she makes you do it again until your body gives out. she has no idea you do everything perfectly when you're doing it on your own and for yourself, not for others.

PRINCIPLE?   you have faith in escaping from celestia. you believe in creating a new world where you can define yourself without someone dictating how you should behave and live. but you couldn’t do it alone.

MY COLOR?   your color is red, seen only in the skirt of your uniform and the faint crimson tint lingering in your hair. but why settle for red when you can be pink?

ANGELS?   many, but only two catch your interest: one who peeks through the door when the headmaster scolds you, and another who pricks her finger with a thorn while both of you tend to the garden of celestia together. eventually, you find your way to talk to them.

WHAT DO I CONVEY?   you're energetic and eager for more, which is both thrilling and daunting.

END CREDIT?   your angels have listened to you, and now the three of you discuss your future, despite how scary it may seem.

★   .   THE  NOTES

kaia was credited for both of her songs as a songwriter and composer.

the title track SINGING IN THE RAIN was one of the most popular releases during its release period due to its quick-on-its-feet composition, which attracted many people who weren't yet aware of the project to give them a listen. some say the song missed the potential to showcase kaia as an exceptional rapper, but others enjoyed it for her charisma and vocals.

#POPSENSATIONKAIAISBACK trended on twitter for a whole day.

SUMMER'S FILM's gained widespread attention as fans began theorizing about its content, especially after realizing that it portrayed kaia as the one who had been tempting and leading yvan and poppy into rebellion against celestia through seashells and headphones. this newfound understanding led to a significant increase in views and discussions surrounding the film and the other's.

kaia's single album was the fourth best-selling album from the ængels of the season series. since it was a limited release, these copies are now very expensive.

★   .   THE  MERCHANDISE

MINIA, mini plush toy

SUMMER TAP, both normal and mini keychain

TAROT DECK: SUMMER

ANGEL OF SPRING: ACT I, photobook

ÆNGELS OF THE SEASON: HIRÆTH is the debut single album released on OCTOBER 24, 2018 as part of MIGHTY DEVIL’s project, ÆNGELS OF THE SEASON showcasing and debuting the highly anticipated female trio hiræth, consisting of the revealed members KAIA, POPPY, and YVAN. it was released on the first full moon of AUTUMN 2018 and includes four tracks: the title track, a promoted b-side, an intro, and an outro. it is considered one of the most impactful debuts by a rookie girl group.

★   .   THE  TRACKLIST

DEAR YOU

SOLAR  ☼  SYSTEM

누구 WHO AM I

DEAR ANGEL

★   .   THE  PLOTLINE

you three were born representing different principles that the primal woman has: faith, love, and hope, but you didn’t know this until the angel in red told you. you three had to become one and create a new life once you’ve accepted said characteristics, both good and bad. but it was hard to accept that you weren’t as innocent as you thought you were, no?

you believe in yourself and in your dream, but faith without action is simply wishful thinking, and faith without hope is simply daydreaming. you needed poppy and kaia.

love is harsh and requires faith and hope to thrive. while love can endure cruelty, it can also be manipulated into evil. to flourish, love must be bolstered by faith and hope. you needed kaia and yvan.

there is nothing to hope for when one cannot find faith or determination– and love, both for others and for oneself. you needed kaia and poppy as much as they needed you.

anger, however, is what prevents them from fully trusting each other. they trust you, then they don’t, and the cycle repeats. this frustration intensifies within yourselves, reflecting on your "past" and the pressure to be flawless despite past mistakes. but beneath it all, this anger, opposing love, also complements it. anger is love unfulfilled; it is love misguided. it is passion.

and the truth is, they needed anger—they needed anger to yearn for them, for its fervor to guide them to the core of their entire existence: the oppression of celestia.

because you don’t need celestia. you don’t need heaven. you don’t need anyone trying to define you as someone you’re not. what you need is self-thought and self-love, and the only way to nurture that self-love is to reconcile with yourself, integrating every aspect of your being into one, even if that means giving into anger.

under the moonless sky of celestia, the three of you conjure a full moon by uniting your principles as one, discovering safety, comfort, and mystery in its glow as you flee the palace. venturing through dense woods, you set forth to explore a world beyond heaven and can only hope some will follow your lead to start all over, but on your own terms.

★   .   THE  NOTES

near the end of summer, a statement was released announcing nari's removal from the group due to allegations of bullying, leading to her sudden disappareance as an artist in the industry. to this day, no one knows what happened to her. their label later issued another statement, requesting that no one discuss the matter further, as they wished to continue hiraeth as it was. angels and knetizens respected the label's request, as they did not support nari's actions when evidence was being shared around by an anonymous twitter user.

the group revealed their name during a press conference before releasing their debut album. after introducing themselves, they talked about their excitement of their debut, their involvement in the album, their intricate concept, and also announced the name of their fandom.

While DEAR YOU is the track introducing you to their life in celestia, DEAR ANGEL is the one bidding it goodbye as they enter a new timeline and plane, but now on their own terms—hence the contrast between the two tracks. just imagine they say angels instead of cupids.

everyone thinks of them when someone mentions the title ROOKIE MONSTERS due to receiving many accolades and acclaim with this album alone. some angels even feared that nothing was going to ever top this project.

promotions were similar to their debut, but this time they performed on various music shows for five weeks, receiving their first win for SOLAR SYSTEM and ten more wins, along with two triple crowns. additionally, their promoted bside, WHO AM I, won against their title track once.

the three of them were heavily involved in the tracks, with poppy gaining the most attention as the composer and the one speaking the lines of the intro DEAR YOU as everyone loved the little notes she came up with to introduce them as a group. to this day, these notes are still adored and brought up when talking about fun-produced songs. angels are still waiting for them to release the full version of it. poppy and kaia were also praised as composers of the outro.

and yes, everyone at ditto entertainment totally regretted losing them three. #EVERYONEPOINTANDLAUGH

in addition to their performances of the single album, their rendition of SNSD's INTO THE NEW WORLD at sbs gayo daejeon, aimed at reintroducing themselves to netizens and other idols, was one of the most talked-about moments of the era since their live vocals, angelic visuals, and chemistry on stage garnered significant attention, cementing their stay in the industry with a bright future ahead.

angels also theorized that their performance of that song was a way to introduce their angel personas to the idol world. everything is a theory to them smh.

ængels of the season's single album was the best-selling album in the ængels of the season series. being a limited release, these copies are expensive but still affordable.

★   .   THE  MERCHANDISE

MINYV, MINPY, and MINIA, mini plush toys

WINTER, SPRING, and SUMMER TAPS, mini keychains

ÆNGEL TAP, mini keychain

THE ÆNGEL BOOK, tarot deck holder

ÆNGELS OF AUTUMN, ACT ?, photobook

[pholla-jm]

My Wife is Real

IMAGINE: MY WIFE IS REAL~ GOJO X WIFE!READER GENRE: FLUFF cw: not proof read. use of y/n. use of she/her. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Who do you think he’s texting?” Nobara whispers to her two classmates, Yuji and Megumi. 

Their teacher, Gojo Satoru, sat at his desk. Legs kicked up onto the desk while he was on his phone, giggling here and there. 

It was questionable if Gojo even knew that class had started. 

Megumi didn’t even bother to pay attention. He also sat on his phone, scrolling through social media. 

“I don’t know…” Yuji ponders. “Ugh, he has to be harassing a poor soul.” Yuji gasps at Nobara’s response, “no.” 

Nobara sits up in her seat, “Gojo-sensei,” she calls out. Gojo peeks up, “oh. I didn’t know you were here.” “Maybe if you stopped bothering people, you would notice.” 

Gojo places his hand on his chest and gasps dramatically. “I am not bothering anyone.” “Then who are you texting?” “My wife, duh.” 

Nobara bursts out laughing, “hahaha, yeah… yeah right.” She wheezes. Tears left the corner of her eyes as she tried to take him seriously, but she really couldn’t. 

Yuji just stares at him in confusion, “you’ve never told me about his wife. I don’t believe you.” 

Gojo gasps in shock and disbelief at his student’s words. “Huh?! I do too have a wife. That hurts my feelings that you don’t believe me!” 

Gojo’s full focus was on his students now. Trying to convince them that his wife is indeed real. “She’s literally the best person in the whole world, and the prettiest.” 

Nobara scoffs and rolls her eyes, “stop making things up Gojo-sensei. It’s getting sad at this point.” 

Gojo pouts at her words. He then grabs his phone, typing something in his phone. He puts his phone down with a triumphant smile on his face. “You’ll see.” 

“Yeah… we’ll see.” Nobara says to Megumi and Yuji. 

Megumi on the other hand was not paying attention to a single thing that was going on. He assumed something stupid was going on, so why even bother to pay attention? Yuji just has a thoughtful look on his face, trying to remember any mention of a wife. But there is no mention of one. 

“Yeah… I think you’re making this up… sorry Gojo-sensei.” “This is just getting sad…” Nobara whispers while shaking her head. 

“I can’t believe my student’s have little faith in me.” 

Only five minutes passed of slight bickering between until a knock was heard at the door. The bickering died down and all heads turned towards the door. 

Nobara’s and Yuji’s eyes widen seeing a woman at the door. 

“Who is that?” Yuji whispers to Nobara. She shrugs her shoulders, “has to be someone he hired.” 

Gojo jumps from his chair, a huge smile on his face. “Wifey!” 

He runs over to you, pulling you into a tight hold. 

You let out a strangled gasp from the impact. “Gojo,” you start, “this is the second time you forgot your lunch… and it’s only Tuesday.” 

Gojo pulls back, a faux pout on his lips, “I’m sorry.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I bet you’re just using this as an excuse to see me.” “Whoops, you caught me. Well, while you’re here. Let me introduce you to my students.” 

“Wait wait-” You didn’t get a chance to stop him because he dragged you into the front of the classroom. 

You eye the three students. Megumi had finally put down the phone, giving you an apologetic look. Nobara and Yuji were looking at you in shock. 

“Students, this is my wife, (y/n).” Gojo basically shows you off with a bright smile on his face. Hands in a jazz hand formation. You nervously smiled at the students. 

“Hello.” 

“Hello Gojo-san.” Megumi quietly said, but it was still loud enough for everyone to hear. You gave the boy a sweet smile, nodding at him. 

“What?! Do you know her?” Nobara and Yuji ask him. “Yes…” 

“Yes, they’ve known each other for quite awhile now…. Sorry guys. She’s a bit shy.” Gojo says while you continue to smile at them. 

“They didn’t believe Gojo-sensi had a wife..” Megumi tells you. 

You hum before turning to Gojo, “I see… I don’t blame them.” 

“Huh?! What is that supposed to mean?” You roll your eyes. “Ever so dramatic.” “...so mean.. How can my wife be so cruel?” 

“Ugh, no one cares,” Nobara sighs, “come sit down with us (y/n)-sensei. I have so much to ask you.” 

You just smile at the girl and move over to the desks. 

Gojo looks at you with a shocked look. Not believing that you were leaving his side. 

“What are you doing?” He asks you. You look back at him, “well, you wanted me to meet your students. So I’m getting to know them.” 

You give him a little smirk and Gojo knows that type of smirk. The one where he’s going to regret his actions later. 

Maybe not now, but he knows that this decision will come to bite him.

[pathologicalreid]

extraordinary measures | s.r.

in which your life hangs in the balance after a brutal attack, and Spencer has to hold himself together for the sake of you and your baby

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: fetal abduction, potentially inaccurate medical information, entirely from spencer's pov, very violent crime, mom!reader, hospitals, medication, spencer lashes out at jj, rossi's son. word count: 4.41k a/n: the people said dad!spencer angst and i delivered. also! trying something new with formatting my posts. i pay for canva pro and need to get my money's worth.

The hospital staff had moved them into a conference room, giving the BAU more space to spread out – and so Spencer’s pacing wouldn’t disturb the other people in the waiting room. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. This isn’t real. This isn’t happening. Not to us. Not to me. Not to her.

The statistics on fetal abduction were alarming. Before today, there had only been thirteen cases since Spencer had joined the BAU. Today alone, there had been two.

“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said, followed by two knocks on the door, “I’m so sorry, but have you had the chance to fill out some of the forms that we gave you?”

Answering for him, Penelope grabbed the clipboard off of the table and passed it to the nurse, “The insurance card is on the top,” she informed the nurse. Nervously, the blonde looked between the medical professional and Spencer, “Is there any update?”

The nurse cringed slightly, “I don’t have one. I’ll see if they can send someone to talk to you.” She nodded assuredly before peeling out of the room.

“Can I get you anything?” Garcia asked helplessly. He had already been given tea, water, coffee, and a sandwich, but he didn’t want any of it.

Shaking his head numbly, Spencer dragged his hands down his face as he replayed the events of this morning in his head.

He wasn’t even supposed to be working, you were due any day now, but Emily had called him with the case and gave him the choice of working. He was supposed to go with you to the check-up, but you had encouraged him to go save a life.

The woman who had been found this morning had her abdomen crudely cut open and her baby was born via a botched cesarean section, but her baby was too premature and didn’t make it. They were both found in an alley near the hospital by a garbage man. Then, while he and Luke were at the medical examiner’s office, his phone started to ring.

You had been discovered, bleeding out, outside of your obstetrician’s office, and if you hadn’t been so close to a building full of doctors, you probably wouldn’t have made it as far as surgery right now. The fact that you had been brought to surgery should have been enough to give him hope, but he hasn’t been raised to be hopeful, he was raised to be pragmatic. The reality of the situation was that in cases of fetal abduction, the mothers rarely made it out the other side.

He was left with Garcia to keep him company, she stayed as a watchdog, mainly looking through traffic footage on her laptop as she made sure Spencer didn’t go entirely off the rails. “You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” she said offhandedly, begging Spencer to just sit down for a moment.

With a huff, he took a seat next to Penelope, leaning his head back on the taupe drywall, “I don’t know what to do,” he confessed.

“We’re going to wait, we are not going to catastrophize, and we will listen to any and all updates that the doctors give us,” she said determinedly, nodding her head as she did so. “We only know what we know and assuming the worst will just lead to feeling worse.”

Closing his eyes, he agreed, listening to the bustle of the hospital from inside the secluded, makeshift waiting space. He wished he knew more about your status when you came in, there were the crime scene photos – which Penelope was under strict orders not to show him – and a quick mention from a resident about blood loss, but nothing else.

“Dr. Reid?” A new voice said, snapping him out of his stupor as he rose to his feet, staring at the doctor who came in with his scrub cap on, “I’m afraid there isn’t much news. Things are still touch and go. They’re hopeful that they can get the bleeding under control, once they do that, we’ll know more. I’ll come out and let you know, alright?”

With the doctor leaving, Garcia reopened her laptop, “You see? We can’t assume the worst because we just don’t know enough yet.”

“Garcia,” he interrupted, hopeful for just a moment of silence to digest the new information – if you could even call it that.

Nodding succinctly, she returned to her work, “Right, okay.”

With the arrival of JJ, Penelope left to check in at the office, and since a profiler was bound to know more information, he asked JJ for an update. His baby had to be almost three hours old now, and he knew nothing about them.

He was left disappointed, there was no information on the UnSub or the baby, “What’s the point of it anyway?”

“Everyone is working on it, Spence. No one is going to rest until this case is closed,” JJ tried to reassure him.

Spencer wasn’t sure he was ever truly going to rest again, “Where is someone supposed to go with a newborn baby? The umbilical cord has to be still attached.” Statistically, women were more likely to commit cesarean abductions, and they usually did so after the loss of their own child or because they told someone they were pregnant and needed to produce a baby. “No one can tell me anything about my child, JJ, don’t you understand that? Can’t you try to understand how that feels?”

Bracing herself, JJ nodded, “You’re angry, I get it, you-“

“No, you don’t. My wife is bleeding out in surgery, and I have no fucking clue where our baby is. I have never met them. I don’t know if I have a son or a daughter or if they’re alive and you have the nerve to tell me that you ‘get it’?” He peered over at the blonde profiler. You should’ve been the first person to hold your baby, and instead, you might never live to find out what happened to you.

She was silent for a moment, “You’re right. I- I can’t even begin to process what you’re feeling right now, but all we can do is keep working on the case.”

Dropping his head in his hands, Spencer shook his head, “Then go work on the case,” he insisted, “I don’t… I need to be alone right now.”

Just as the four-hour mark approached, the glass door opened again, and David Rossi walked in.

“Are you here to lecture me?” Spencer asked, his voice raspy from crying in the solitude of the room, he wondered if JJ had told everyone how he lashed out at her.

Crossing one leg over the other, Rossi answered, “Nope,” he said, popping the last syllable. “I’m just here to sit and wait, same as you, kid.”

Nodding, Spencer leaned his head back and closed his eyes as a protection against the fluorescent lights of the hospital, “How did you manage?”

There were some things – life events – that were left unspoken in the BAU. Traumas that people didn’t want uncovered, horrors that the team didn’t need to relive, but Spencer needed answers, and this was the only way he could think to get them. “Manage what?”

“Losing your son,” he answered, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he kept his eyes closed, wondering if he too would lose a child. Birth and death within the same day.

Clearing his throat, Rossi took a moment before responding, and Spencer wasn’t sure if he was appalled at the question or if he simply wasn’t sure how to respond, “Well, I’m not sure I ever really did. Not for a long time, at least,” he admitted.

Digesting the information, Spencer shifted in his seat, “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to do. Everyone just keeps telling me to wait, but…” he chuckled to himself, “Y/N always jokes that if patience is the companion of wisdom, then I have to be the exception.”

He had always been told to wait. Wait for his turn. Wait for the perfect person to show up. He had waited, and he had gotten you, but all of that waiting had led him here. In this beige room where he had signed papers asking doctors to use extraordinary measures to try and save your life.

“Dr. Reid?” One of the doctors from earlier called his name, knocking on the glass door. Instinctively, Spencer stood up, wiping his hands on his pants and looking at the doctor expectantly, “Oh, please,” the doctor said, “Take a seat.”

Hesitantly, Spencer lowered himself back down into the hospital chair, he couldn’t help but feel like that was a bad sign.

“All things considered, your wife is very, very lucky,” the doctor informed him, “She’s not fully out of the woods yet, but they’re setting her up in recovery right now. I’m just waiting on a message from my colleague, and then I’ll be able to bring you up to see her.”

A flurry of questions flew through his mind at once, “What are you still concerned about?” He asked, leaning over and resting his elbows on his knees.

Nodding, the doctor continued, “Y/N lost a lot of blood in the attack. When you factor in the trauma of having a baby and a four-hour surgery, there’s a lot of healing that has to happen, and right now she doesn’t have the strength for it.” His phone chimed, and Spencer jolted, trying not to get his hopes up if it wasn’t about you, “Come with me,” the doctor said.

Rossi offered to let the rest of the team know and Spencer rambled off a random confirmation as he followed the doctor through the doorway, feeling like he was floating. As they walked through the hospital, Spencer grew more and more anxious.

Your hand was cold. In fact, your hand was so cold that Spencer asked the doctor to turn the volume on your vital monitor up so that he could have the constant reassurance that you were alive.

Blood was being transfused still, he had already forgotten the doctor’s estimate on just how much blood you had lost, but if he had the urge to read through your medical chart, he was sure he could find out. The only problem was, ever since the doctor left, he hadn’t been able to do anything except stare.

Every once in a while, he pinched your index finger, testing the capillary refill time out of his own morbid curiosity while blood was being returned to your body. Agents and officers stood outside of your hospital room in a steady rotation. The BAU wasn’t sure if your life was still in danger, but they weren’t willing to take any risks.

There were countless law enforcement personnel involved in this case now, if not directly investigating the case, they were at least contributing to the search. The Manassas Field Office, DC Metro, the Maryland Police – they were all out there looking. Out the window, he could see news reporters gathering out front to start their afternoon broadcasts.

It had been four hours. Four hours and there was still no word on the baby or the UnSub. The baby would need to eat soon, and Spencer found himself depending on the UnSub to have had the forethought to take care of the newborn.

Every couple of minutes, you would mumble something in your sleep, and he willed you to stay asleep. Selfishly, he wanted you to stay asleep until he knew the baby was safe – until he knew he could have something good to tell you.

Penelope was stationed right outside the door. She likely thought he hadn’t noticed her return, but the clicking of her keyboard gave her away.

Infrequently, his phone buzzed in his pocket, and he tried not to concern himself with it. Garcia had made contact with your mom, being sure to reach out to your family before any other news hit the airwaves.

He adjusted the way the nasal cannula rested on your face before bringing your hand to his mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles and resting your cold fingers against his cheek, as if his face had the capacity to warm your whole body. Briefly, he wondered if the team would be willing to have a desk agent bring you a blanket from home.

The team would probably find a way to get him a helicopter if he requested it.

Flowers and cards flowed into your hospital room, arriving from people who knew you to people who had seen your story on the news. He had to look away when a small stuffed elephant was delivered by a nurse, knowing that the baby it belonged to was nowhere to be found.

Much to his surprise, he looked away from the stuffed animal just to find you looking back at him. The sorrow in your eyes a staggering reflection of that which could be found in his own. One glance at you and he knew that there was no need for him to break the news to you – you were well aware.

Spencer remained wholly silent as a slew of medical professionals filtered in and out of the room, a cacophony of directives and questions sent your way as tears filled your waterline. He captured your hand in both of his, holding your hand like it was a lifeline to everything he knew as the truth. He was here, you were here, and you were both alive. Tethered to you in the woven web of life, he refused to falter. Not now. Not when you needed him the most.

He answered the questions that you didn’t know the answers to and watched, tight-lipped, as your doctor kept you informed. Dr. Lasher was picking and choosing from your chart, telling you anything pertinent, and leaving out anything that she thought could wait for later.

Once the doctor had cleared through an extensive list of maladies, everyone let you have the room. “Darling,” he whispered, reaching a hand out to adjust the way your hospital gown rested on your shoulder, covering some of the exposed wires.

“There are no leads?” You asked tentatively, the pain in your voice exacerbated by the swelling caused by the breathing tube you’d had during surgery. Your eyes were glassy, and Spencer didn’t know if it was from sorrow or pain or fear. It was a question he was afraid to ask.

He shook his head, “Not yet, but everyone’s looking,” he fed you the same reassurances that had been given to him. The same reassurances that he hadn’t believed.

You moved your hands, laying your palms flat on the sterile white sheets and starting to push yourself up, only to be met with Spencer’s hands guiding you back down to the pillows. “I’ve gotta go,” you mumbled, “I wanna help. Spence, please let me help.” Fresh tears welled in your eyes as you looked at him in desperation.

The way your bottom lip quivered was what broke him, he tilted his head to the side, “You can help just fine from right here, okay?” He looked out into the hallway, wondering which member of the team was around for you to talk to. “I’ll be right back,” he told you, squeezing your hand before retreating to the hallway, never letting you out of his line of sight.

“Hey,” Penelope greeted, the compassion in her voice giving him pause, “How is she?”

Exhausted, terrified, in pain – all applicable at the moment. Spencer thought about answering for a moment before skipping Garcia’s question entirely, “Who’s around for a cognitive?”

You didn’t quite have the energy for a full interview, but you were so adamant about helping that he couldn’t refuse you, not today. “JJ’s one floor up, do you want me to call her for you?”

He thought about it for a moment, he hadn’t handled his last interaction with JJ with the most care, but you needed someone to talk to and it couldn’t be him. “Yeah,” he nodded, “Please.”

Spencer sat on the edge of your bed, smoothing your hair as he tried to comfort you. In all of the time he’d known you, he’d never need you so defeated.

Not much came out during your cognitive with JJ, either there was a mental block in the way or you hadn’t seen much when you were attacked. Whichever one it was, Spencer was fighting himself internally on whether or not he should be thankful.

“I’m so sorry,” Spencer murmured, keeping his voice low as you fought off sleep. “Close your eyes, sweetheart,” he cooed, “You need to rest.”

You fought sleep with everything you had in you, which wasn’t much anymore. The cognitive interview had gone too long. Your nurse was the one who put her foot down and ended it, even when you wanted to keep going. “It’s not fair,” you cried, slow tears making their way down your cheeks.

Very slowly, Spencer could feel his heart breaking as your exhaustion and desolation worked together to make you as miserable as possible, “I know, lovey. I know,” he assured you as tears filled his eyes.

Glassy eyes looked up at him, “I just wanted to be a mom,” you whispered, your speech slurred with sleep.

Letting his own tears fall to the white sheets of your hospital bed, Spencer nodded, “You are a mom.”

He didn’t add anything. He didn’t have it in him to make a grandiose speech about how you would always be your baby’s mother, and, luckily, he didn’t need to. Your eyes finally fell shut, final tears falling from your face as Spencer found himself grateful that sleep finally took you.

Never leaving your side, Spencer pulled the chair back up next to you, resting his chin on your bed's armrest and watching you sleep. Very slowly, color was beginning to return to your face, yet you still looked so different from when he had left the house that morning.

Unsure how long it had been, Spencer shot up straight when Penelope came rushing to the doorway, placing a finger to his lips, he nodded toward your sleeping form. Even so, the technical analyst waved him over.

Carefully, he slipped his hand out of yours and walked around your bed to Penelope, “What is it?”

Tears filled the blonde’s eyes as she looked up at him, she put both of her hands on his upper arms and cried, “They found your baby. It- they’re pulling up to the ambulance bay right now.”

Spencer’s lips parted in shock, having fully prepared himself for the day to end in undeniable heartbreak. “Are- is the baby okay?”

Penelope nodded, “They’re going up to the NICU right now to get checked out but apparently the EMTs said the baby looks completely unharmed.”

Turning to look at you, still asleep on the bed, Spencer gave Penelope a quick embrace before returning to your bedside, “Sweetheart,” he whispered, trying to wake you up from sleep that you still needed. “Honey,” he said, gently cupping your cheek with his hands as your eyes fluttered open.

You hummed groggily, squinting up at him under the fluorescence of the hospital.

“The baby’s here,” he murmured to you, making sure you didn’t jump up at his words. “They’re headed up to the NICU for a quick check, and-“

“Go,” you cut him off, your eyes wide and full of tears. “Please go hold them, Spence,” you cried, voice rough with sleep.

His shoulders slouched forward slightly, looking between you and Penelope in the doorway, “I’ll stay here,” Penelope offered immediately. “You go, I’ll stay.”

You nodded up at him, closing your eyes as he bent forward to press a kiss to your hairline. “I love you,” you breathed, placing a hand on your chest as if it would slow your racing heart.

“I love you too,” he responded before stepping out of the hospital room, following the directions that Penelope had given him in order to get up to the NICU.

Adrenaline made his stomach churn as he approached the NICU, wondering what he’d say to the people there until someone recognized him as The Dad. He still had to scrub his hands, but they let him through until he saw the bassinet. Even more, he saw the tiny baby kicking its legs inside of the acrylic container.

Emily stood by on high alert, ready to pounce on anyone who even looked at the baby funny, and Spencer just couldn’t stop staring. “Come here,” one of the NICU nurses said to him, obviously having been brought up to speed on the situation. With a smile on her face, she told him, “It’s a girl.”

“A girl,” he breathed, walking right up to the side of the bassinet.

The nurse nodded and adjusted the hat on her head, just slightly too big for the newborn’s head, “If you want, we can get you set up in a chair here, and you can give her a bottle.”

“Please,” he responded, earning another smile from the nurse, who had him take the crying baby in his arms before handing him the prepared bottle.

It broke his heart to watch how quickly she took to the bottle; he still wasn’t sure if she had eaten anything until this. He knew the nipple wouldn’t let her take in too much at a time, but in his subconscious, he was still worried about it being too much for her.

He rocked gently, “Hi, honey,” he cooed down at her.

“She’s a good eater,” the nurse observes, writing something down on a piece of paper. “We’ll keep an eye on her for just a little while, but we know how badly she needs to get down to her mama.”

Setting the now empty bottle down, Spencer looked up at the nurse, “Is she okay?”

The nurse nodded at his concern, “She’s on the small size, but she’s full term. Of course, not everything is going to be noticeable right away, but we did a full newborn exam on her and all of the tests say she’s a perfectly healthy baby.” She looked on as Spencer gently cupped the baby’s head, “Does she have a name?”

You and Spencer had made a deal, he would pick a boy’s name, and you would pick a girl’s name. Smiling softly, he murmured her name to her for the first time, “Genevieve,” he answered. A big name for such a small baby, maybe, but it was the name you had chosen.

He started making his way back down to you, feeling like he was floating through the taupe hallways of the hospital before he finally made it back to your room. Penelope excused herself when he emerged in the hallway.

“Spence,” you whispered, looking up at him with hope in your eyes for the first time since you had woken up after surgery.

Smiling at you, he sat on the edge of your bed, “Five pounds and fifteen ounces. Seventeen and a half inches long. Perfectly healthy.” He glanced behind him as he heard the wheels of the bassinet coming toward your room, turning back to watch your reaction as you saw your baby for the first time.

He was glad for his eidetic memory, he’d never want to forget the way your face lit up with recognition, “Oh, a girl.”

With the baby settled on your chest, there was nothing better for the two of you to do than watch her sleep. Every once in a while, she’d coo or squawk and immediately capture your every attention all over again. “How are you feeling?” Spencer asked you. The blood transfusions had been completed, leaving you on a course of broad-spectrum antibiotics, fluids, and lots of pain medication – two of which prevented you from breastfeeding. Although, because of her size and traumatic birth, the NICU doctor suggested that some formula would help her grow properly.

You hummed contentedly, “Tired. I hurt just about everywhere,” you admitted, not taking your eyes off of your newborn. “I’m so… just grateful,” you whispered, “Is that odd?”

“No,” he shook his head, “I know exactly what you mean.” For as terrible and horrifying as the entire ordeal was, it could’ve been much worse. He almost lost both of his girls in one day.

“Does the team want to meet her?” You asked, worried about entertaining guests with the baby.

Spencer chuckled softly, keeping his index finger pointed within Genevieve’s reach, testing her palmar reflex, “I’m sure they do, but we’ll wait and see how you feel tomorrow and revisit. Okay?”

Your head bobbed in confirmation, watching as your daughter very slowly woke up, “Hi, Vie,” you greeted her quietly, gently rubbing her back with your fingertips. You didn’t have the strength to fully hold her, but she was more than happy to just lay on you, “Sweet, sleepy girl.”

“Do you want me to take her, and you can get some sleep?” Spencer offered, noticing the way you were trying to hide a yawn from him. “We aren’t going anywhere, we’ll stay right here in this chair,” he reassured you based on the apprehensive look you were giving him.

Slowly, you nodded, helping as best you could and pouting in sympathy when Genevieve – Vie – cried out at the sensation of being moved from her warm spot on her mother’s chest to the warm spot in her father’s arms. Thankfully, the newborn calmed down just as soon as Spencer settled her in his arms, “Don’t go,” you whispered, letting your eyes fall shut as you allowed sleep to wash over you.

He hummed, “We won’t,” he muttered in response.

Sleep took you with little resistance, leaving him with Genevieve in the silence of the hospital room – save for all of the machines that you were still hooked up to.

She wouldn’t be up for much longer herself – newborns spent most of their day sleeping – so Spencer took his opportunity to watch her eyes wander around the hospital room. “You can go back to sleep too, little love. I’ll watch over the both of you,” he spoke to her in a reverent tone and adjusted the hat on her head.  “I’ll keep you safe, Vie. No harm will come to you, not as long as I’m your dad.”