#and i think it would make sense with what her skills are

[notjustjavierpena]

I read Comfort and felt so bad for Javier not getting a chance to comfort his girl after her nightmare!!!! Can you write hubby comforting Inés after a bad dream? Pls and ty ❤️❤️

Brave

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Here’s a little quick thing I wrote for you, anon! Inés loves her father so much, don’t worry! 

Summary: Javier comforts his daughter after a nightmare and they have a little talk about bravery. 

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader/you (no y/n)

Tags: Domestic, hurt/comfort, nightmares, implied reference to PTSD, fluff, family fluff, healing my own and my readers’ childhood!!!

Word count: 2.2k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/65312092

Brave

Javier sleeps with his senses on high alert. It is a habit that he thought he would let pass on after leaving behind Colombia and returning home to Texas. Yet after having kids, he finds that the skill of being aware of his surroundings and listening for any signs of danger has settled in him permanently and even improved significantly since he isn’t just worrying about his own safety anymore. 

So when he hears the tiny feet shuffle down the hallway followed by a sniffle, he is sitting up in bed before he has even registered the command from his brain to his body. Beside him, you stir slightly because of his movements and mumble his name half-asleep. He leans down over you, runs a hand over your head.

“Shh, just go back to sleep, mi amor (my love),” he whispers into your skin after kissing your bare shoulder, “I’ll check on her.”

He says her because he could recognize his daughter’s presence anywhere and from even the tiniest of tells. Exactly like now by just hearing how her soft feet shuffle on the wooden flooring and from the shallow, stuttering sobs of anxiety that have his old heart aching to hold her. A nightmare again, he bets, due to her wild imagination. She has them a lot. 

He swings his legs out over the edge of the bed and plants his feet on the cold floor, the cool temperature forcing him to be fully awake. He thinks for a moment that he wouldn’t even need to be awake to find his way to her. 

The hallway seems longer and scarier as it is only lit up by the sliver of light that comes from the nightlight in Inés’ bedroom. He finds her a few feet from the door to his bedroom, clutching her stuffed Eeyore in her hands like he is the sole protector in the darkness. Her eyes are huge and wet with tears, her bottom lip wobbling as soon as she spots her father. 

“Daddy,” she sobs.

“Inés,” Javier coos when he has closed the door behind him, already moving forward to pick her up. She wraps around him like a koala bear wraps around a tree trunk. Eeyore is squished between the two of them but he doesn’t complain, “¿Qué pasa, monita? (What’s going on, little monkey?)”

“I had a bad dream again,” she sniffles into his neck, and he can feel the warmth of her wet tears on his skin. He hugs her tighter even if it makes her cry more. It is only good that she lets her emotions out if she needs to, “There was a monster chasing me really fast and it had a million eyes looking at me. I couldn’t find you.”

“That sounds really scary, mi vida (my life). I understand why you’re upset,” he kisses her soft hair a few times while she clings to him, “I wish you would have called me or mamá.”

He is already carrying her back to her bedroom. He could have let her sleep between the two of you, but given how often this is an occurrence these days, you and he have talked about reminding her that she’s still safe in her own bed. 

When he crouches down to put her back under the covers, she draws back and wipes her face with the hand holding Eeyore even if it is awkward and his leg nearly pokes at her eye. She heaves for breath as another sob threatens to break free from her chest, “But I didn’t wanna wake you.”

“You can always wake me or mamá if you need us, baby,” he lets her know without hesitation, trying to keep his voice in a tone that tells her that she hasn’t done anything wrong, not even by staying quiet when he wished she’d called for him. 

“I know,” she says, her hands picking at the edges of her pink blanket, “I’m sorry.” 

“You don’t have to say sorry,” he tells her, “Papá just doesn’t want you to be alone when you are scared and upset. It’s okay to need me when things feel too big.”

She gives a tiny nod, “O-okay.”

He presses a kiss to her forehead, already moving to stand, “Alright, mi amor (my love). Try to get some sleep now, okay? Buenas no– (Goodnight)”

When he is just about to be back at his full height, she signals that she still needs him by letting the stuffed toy fall to the mattress and pulling at his arm in a silent plea. Her eyes and nose are red and puffy from tears but they’re not wet anymore. He doesn’t hesitate, immediately understands what she wants when she scoots over. 

Javier crawls under the covers with her, making the bed creak underneath him when it is so clearly not made to support the weight of a grown man. Her sheets smell like children’s shampoo and sleep. To a father, they smell like the kind of love that softens any rough edges of his soul. 

With an exaggerated and comical huff, he carefully shifts onto his side to face her. She looks almost shy as she mirrors him and looks at him adoringly. He tugs Eeyore into the crook of her arm, brushes a stand of her hair behind her ear. She drags the covers over their heads with determination.

“Are you feeling better?” He asks in a whisper when they’re in their makeshift den of safety. 

“A little,” she responds with renewed calmness and hugs her toy tightly. She tries to whisper but she’s not very good at it, “It felt like the monster was real but it wasn’t. And– and it felt like you were really gone!”

He nods in understanding, “I know what you mean. I have dreams like that too that feel really real.”

Her eyebrows furrow. He can see the confusion in her eyes, mixing with disbelief that anything could get the better of him, “You have nightmares like mine? But you’re not scared of anything!”

“That’s not true. I get scared sometimes,” he gives her a tired smile, trying not to let her see how he is experiencing a taunting flash of terrible things that his brain has conjured up over the course of his life. Bullets, empty cribs, and blood on his hands, “It’s not fun, huh?”

“No,” she agrees and shakes her head. Absent-mindedly, she reaches for his hand and holds his pinky, “Daddy, what do you do when you have a nightmare?” 

“I try to remember that it isn’t real and nothing bad is going to happen to our family. I’m home and in bed next to mamá,” he answers after a beat where he pretends to think, “If that still doesn’t help, I get up to check on you and your brothers. Sometimes, I try to think about something nice that makes me happy.”

She tightens her grip, stuffs her nose in Eeyore’s blue fur, “Like what?”

He taps his mustache with his index finger, suddenly playful to make her relax more when talking about the harder things, “Hmmm… Pancakes for breakfast. Or you and Lucas jumping on the trampoline. Mommy dancing in the kitchen with Seb.”

The picture makes her giggle and then yawn. Javier feels a warm flash of pride at getting her to be comfortable again and very cute while doing it, watching her sink further into the mattress as she grows tired again. It is hot underneath the pink covers but he powers through for her, if it means her feeling safe and secure. 

They are quiet for a moment. Inés’ eyes start to droop, her breathing slowing down but she’s still not asleep. Instead, she is fighting it and looking like she is turning over every little word of their conversation to make sense of it. After a moment, she crawls into his arms and presses her cheek against his chest. 

“I like being like you, Daddy,” she murmurs softly and Javier’s throat goes tight with emotion. He hadn’t expected the profoundness of those words at three in the morning in a bed full of stuffed animals. 

“You do?” He blinks away tears. 

“Yes, because…” she trails off, trying to piece together her thoughts while he hugs her close and tries to be patient, “If you have dreams like mine… then mine don’t feel so bad. Because you are brave and if I’m like you then I am brave too.”

Javier is speechless for a moment and fills out the silence, busies himself, by reaching up to stroke his daughter’s hair repeatedly. He is sure that his heartbeat can be felt against her little face, that he is one wrong breath away from giving into a sob. He hides it to not make her feel like she has made him upset, but if she were to ask, he would say that her very being is mending something in him that he didn’t know was broken. She is so small, so precious to him that it hurts. It aches so gloriously in his very soul to love someone so deeply.

“You are brave, baby. You’re my brave girl,” he eventually gathers himself enough to reply, “Coming to get me when you had a bad dream? That was brave. Telling me about it? Even braver. Asking me to stay with you? The bravest.”

She draws back to read the sincerity on his face, but then looks down with embarrassment. She fiddles with Eeyore’s ear, “But I cried.”

“Look at me,” he tips her head up again to find her tired brown eyes and there she is, trusting him even when she’s unsure of herself. He can tell she is listening from the way she is watching him, “Crying doesn’t make you not brave, Inés. Crying just means that your heart is working like it should.”

“That’s good,” she agrees thoughtfully. She looks like there’s more she wants to say but she is interrupted by another yawn as sleep deprivation hits her. He takes the opportunity of her tiredness to adjust the covers around them, uncovering them so he can finally breathe in the air of the room again. She shifts beside him to find the perfect spot in his embrace, Eeyore lying between them. 

“What are you thinking about?” Javier whispers to give her a sense of it still just being the two of them even if they’re out in the open land of her bedroom. 

“Can we think about pancakes now?” She inquires. 

“You can dream about pancakes, monita (little monkey),” he corrects her with a little laugh, nose in her hair to kiss it again and breathe in her strawberry toothpaste on top of the sweet shampoo, “You need more sleep or you’ll be cranky in the morning.”

“And I am like you,” she giggles and hides behind Eeyore. 

“Yeah yeah, and you’re too smart for your own good,” he clicks his tongue at her in jest and drags her into a squishing embrace that makes her protest with happy laughter. He shushes her, “Less giggling. More snoring.”

“You have to say goodnight to Eeyore,” she demands into the soft fabric of his shirt. Her words are slurred as if the very action of closing her eyes has brought her to the brink of sleep. 

Javier fishes out Eeyore so he doesn’t suffocate underneath her. He settles him on the headboard of her bed so he can watch over her, conjuring up the tone he used to use when he was the boss in Cali (minus the unfathomable amount of swearing), “Goodnight, old Eeyore. You’re on monster-hunting duty now.”

Inés lets out a tiny noise that tells him that she is pleased. It doesn’t take long for her breathing to even out after that, telling him that she’s fast asleep in his arms. It feels sacred. 

Javier stays for a while. He doesn’t want to disturb her moment of peaceful sleep. He’ll get up soon, he tells himself, will ease her gently off his arm and return to his own bed. However, he dozes off too after a few minutes, not that he means to but her soft breaths knocks him out like a hammer to the head. 

He only wakes up again when you gently rub his shoulder. He startles but only momentarily, then heaves a yawning sigh and blinks in confusion at being woken up. 

“I’m awake,” he whispers and holds up his hands in surrender. 

“I can see that,” you stifle a snicker. 

“Another nightmare,” he explains. 

You don’t need any elaboration, “She okay now?”

“Yeah, she’s good.”

“And you?” You question and he loves you a little more.

“I’m okay,” he answers and it is the truth. 

You lean down to kiss his lips, “Don’t fall asleep in here or your back is gonna hate you in the morning.”

“She said she likes being like me,” he blurts out a little sheepishly like he is still in shock while you pull away from his mouth. 

“Smart girl,” you hum lovingly, “You’re a good one to be like.”

.

.

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[kiyomitakada]

hi everyone so ages ago i translated watari's diary from the movie tie-in material L File No. 15 (sourced from this post by @mikami) but i just realized i never posted it here?? of all places??? so here you go! i recommend reading this translation along with the screenshots from that post since there are pictures that i did not bother actually including.

(spoilers for the live action films!)

---

QUILLISH WAMMY'S DIARY

The following diary was included in the discovered files. It is thought to have been written by Quillish Wammy (who is said to have gone by "Watari" while acting as L's intermediary), but as with the previous files, it contains information of dubious veracity.

May 7, 1973

Recently, I find myself thinking idle thoughts.

The metal I invented, which is superconducting under 28.7°C, is now used in 87% of electrical cables worldwide. It has brought me great wealth. Too much to know what to do with, I feel. No matter how much money I accumulate, there is no way to buy a human life, so I can't imagine any interesting way I could spend it.

May 12, 1973

Today, I had a revelation.

My talents mainly skew towards the sciences, and there are many things I can do with them, but also many things I cannot. But what if I use my wealth and my enthusiasm to raise new talents? Then there will certainly be one or two who can achieve things I cannot. Extremely interesting. To what extent can humans cultivate their talents? This is what I should dedicate the rest of my life to finding out.

I will gather children with talent and intelligence from all over the world — the brain develops very quickly from ages 9 to 13, so children around that age range should work best — and educate them thoroughly. Eventually, I believe, they will be able to change the world. Perhaps I will call the institution Wammy's House.

[Notes on the children]

F: Strong sense of justice, and quick to action — which is why he can make mistakes.

R: Has recently shown interest in astronomy. Has fallen asleep while looking through a telescope before, and thus contracted a cold. Twice.

K: Talented in multiple fields. Has perfectly understood almost everything I teach. I have not yet determined which area she is most skilled in — very exciting.

*1 (T/N: shaky translation): Many researchers have reason to believe members of Wammy's House are referred to by single letters of the alphabet. However, there is no consensus as to what extent these nicknames were used. Some suggest only Quillish Wammy and the person themselves recognized the nickname.

February 23, 1987

Today, I have learned a lesson. Sometimes an overly nurtured talent goes beyond the will of the person who nurtured it. [T/N: I genuinely can't tell if he's talking about the kid raising their talent or Watari raising the kid] K has left Wammy's House of her own volition. This is the first time something like this has happened since I founded Wammy's House. I feel a strong sense of loss.

---

[Notes on the children, 2]

D: Mainly talented in physics. Frequently smashes radio-controlled models, possibly to conduct their own experiments. The degree of destruction is being monitored.

P: Often found with their nose buried in a novel. I think I will try teaching them psychology once they are a little older. It would be nice if they showed some interest in profiling.

L: Invests in stocks. Clearly talented, but so far an unknown variable.

July 10, 1994

Currently, out of all the children, L holds most of my interest.

While he does show interest in existing fields of study, he is even more enthusiastic about using his own methods (adjacent to statistics) to make deductions. Right now, he is spending the most time on criminal investigations. He is working against actual human beings, which is why the cases are so complex and difficult to unravel… He seems immensely fascinated by this.

L, when in pursuit of an objective, is able to immediately determine the necessary information. L. You are my hope.

August 13, 2005

L has selected FBI agent Naomi Misora for the Los Angeles B.B. Murder Cases. It seems he did so in recognition of her bravery and deductive abilities. L dislikes unnecessary physical exertion, since he wants to keep his mind functioning as quickly as possible. Thus, he has to rely on others to act as his agents on the scene. Naomi is reliable.

[A photo of Naomi, along with the text:]

Naomi Misora FBI Investigator Achieved investigator status unusually quickly Specialty: Marksmanship Intelligent and passionate

---

February 26, 2006

I was present at an ICPO conference today. The focus was exclusively on the "Kira case." Criminals all over the world are dying of simultaneous heart attacks. Some members of the public might call this "judgment," but it is murder. L is very intrigued by this new type of crime.

*2: The Kira case, as detailed in the other files, refers to the phenomenon where criminals globally die of simultaneous heart attacks. Rumors flew around the Internet claiming that "'Kira' is our savior and carries out justice," and the name was attached to the phenomenon even though this was not actually proven yet. Since the case affected the entire world and was growing in momentum rapidly, the ICPO's response was necessarily rushed.

March 2, 2006

It seems Naomi Misora and Raye Iwamatsu are now engaged. They are planning to hold the ceremony in Japan. Naomi says she is retiring from the FBI. That took me by surprise.

I am unsure how L feels about Naomi's decision, but he has chosen her for his plan to make contact with Kira. Raye will be the driver. I'm sure Naomi will carry out the plan perfectly. Yes, L's choice is correct. But making a bride approach a murderer… making her groom drive her there…

L. That calmness in you is what I hoped for, what I raised. Still. Is hesitation not an option for you?

March 10, 2006

It's been raining since morning. It's coming down in sheets. I haven't seen such weather for a long time.

L believes there is a 97% probability Kira is in Japan, so we are headed there. Even so… Why did L say something like that? He never says things so sentimental, so unsettling… Could it be that he can see something I can't even imagine lurking in the future of this case? L, why did you say, "I might not be able to come back?" You are only in charge of directing the investigation. There's no reason to think you will come face to face with danger.

The lesson I learned from K is once again swirling in my head. Sometimes an overly nurtured talent will go somewhere I cannot follow…

L. Tell me you weren't thinking straight. Please. Tell me it was just the rain.

---

April 1, 2006

The twelve FBI agents who L ordered to tail the families and associates of the Japanese police have all died simultaneously of heart attacks. …Including Raye Iwamatsu… It was a shock, considering the pattern up to now, that Kira would kill so many human beings who weren't criminals. I think L wasn't able to predict it either.

I tried expressing my condolences to Naomi Misora over the phone, but I couldn't reach her. I am worried.

April 2, 2006

L met the Japanese investigators in person. Starting from now, he will work together with them to advance the investigation. L has never shown his real face to anyone before now. I can feel his anxiety about this case radiating off this decision. Or perhaps it's impatience?

L asked them to call him Ryuzaki.

[Notes on the Japanese investigators]

Soichiro Yagami: Chief of the task force assigned to the "Kira case." Overflowing with a particularly Japanese sense of justice. Trustworthy.

Ukita

Aizawa

Sanami: The only woman on the investigation team. A little too kind.

Mogi

Matsuda: A hot-headed young man. Slightly too presumptuous.

---

April 11, 2006

L is fixated on Light Yagami. He says that the probability of Light being Kira is only around 1% to 3%, but from his behavior, I can't help but think it must be higher. But although I suppose Light is decently intelligent, he's nothing more than a regular college student. To even consider the possibility of him being a mass murderer, there has to be some additional factor — an inconceivable one.

What is it?

Are we fighting against something entirely new?

[A photo of Light, along with the text:]

Light Yagami Student majoring in law at To-Oh University. A prodigy — he has already passed the bar exam. Hates to lose; focuses on winning in everything. His father is the chief of the task force, Soichiro Yagami.

[Memo so I don't forget my orders]

An emergency order from L. Written below so I don't make a single mistake.

Macarons (DALLOMIU) x 12 boxes

Marshmallows (MEIGI-YA) x 12 bags

Donuts (Donkin Donuts) x 12 bags

Black tea (F and N) x 12 cans

Potato chips (Golbee) (specifically BBQ flavor) x 2 bags

[T/N: The potato chips are the type Light eats in The Chip Scene — they're consomme in the original Japanese (both manga and diary) but BBQ in the Viz translation, which I'm going with.]

*3: The Donkin Donuts company shut down all its stores in Japan in 1998. Therefore, this memo conflicts with the range of time in which L and Quillish Wammy were thought to be in Japan. Whether this is a mistake on Wammy's part or an indication that the diary is of unreliable origin is still a topic of discussion.

April 15, 2006

I think the incomprehensibility of what happened today will stay with me for the rest of my life. Naomi Misora shot herself. It was after she told L, "I'll use my own life to prove that Light Yagami is Kira." But Naomi wasn't able to prove anything.

She must have, in her own way, found something confirming her theory. Considering her actions up to now, she wouldn't have made such a declaration without some kind of proof. But she took Light's girlfriend hostage at the museum. She killed her. And then she took her own life. Why would she do such a thing?

It wasn't like her. No matter how I think about it, it wasn't like her. She looked almost… confused, right before her death. Not like Naomi at all.

[Photo of Shiori, a movie-only character!]

Shiori Akino Student majoring in law at To-Oh University. Dating Light Yagami. Possesses a strong sense of justice and articulates her ideals clearly. Postscript: Was shot and killed by Naomi Misora at the Oumei Museum of Art.

*4: Naomi Misora's murder of Shiori Akino and subsequent suicide is the greatest mystery of this case. As Quillish Wammy wrote here, the question "Why did Naomi kill Shiori?" is still entirely unexplained; some have even proposed that it had no connection to the Kira case at all. Also, in regards to Shiori, it bears mentioning that some believe she was dating Light Yagami while others believe they were simply classmates.

---

April 18, 2006

The construction of the Kira Response Building is complete. We will be moving the investigation headquarters there.

[Memo with cutouts so I don't forget]

[T/N: As you can see in the Tumblr screenshots, this page of the diary is entirely filled with cutouts from advertisements showing different parts of L's outfit.]

[picture of jeans]: The feeling of a new working style, a dominating sense of existence — Loose silhouette, straight frame. Its special characteristic is the five pockets it boasts on the front. Two of the pockets are integrated into the seams on the sides for a working-style taste. There is an adjuster in the back so you can adjust the size slightly.

[T/N: I tried for ages to figure out if this meant 5 or 7 pockets total, and then I decided accurate translation of an advertisement for jeans in the tie-in material for a movie spinoff for a 2000s manga wasn't worth this effort.] [No offense, L.]

[picture of sneakers]: A strong impact! Each step brimming with confidence — These shoes are made with the ripstop fabric used in military wear. It won't tear, no matter how much you wear the shoes out. Additionally, the camo pattern is piece-dyed with black and deliberately scuffed, giving it a tasteful finished look.

[picture of white sweater]: It looks good in any season: a must buy item — Silhouette is loose enough to hide the lines of your body. The neckline is also loose, so wearing it is a delightfully relaxed experience. The white color has outstanding compatibility with denim.

[picture of Hyottoko mask] Hyottoko mask

[doodle of white bag]

[picture of a chessboard] CHESS: The definitive version of the battle of minds

---

April 29, 2006

An individual calling themselves "the Second Kira" has sent video tapes to TV stations. Their patterns are clearly different from those of the Kira who has acted up to now. According to L's theory, while the previous Kira needed a face and a name for the murder, this Kira only needs to see someone's face to kill them.

Also, Light Yagami is now part of the task force. Light can't forgive Kira for taking his girlfriend's life. He's burning with determination to solve the case. He really is a smart teenager.

I wonder which L feels more for him: sympathy or competitiveness. Even I can't tell.

*5: In this time period, there were several unexplainable events, documented by the news and TV broadcasts in Japan at the time. For example, several police officers died of sudden heart attacks near the doorstep of the TV station that was broadcasting a message from the person claiming to be "the Second Kira" (including a detective whose name appeared in the earlier "Notes on the Japanese investigators"). It is thought that L's theory that "this Kira only needs to see someone's face [...]," as documented by Quillish Wammy above, was based on this incident.

May 11, 2006

Misa Amane has been arrested under suspicion of being the Second Kira. She is in confinement. The Japanese investigators seem somewhat opposed to this method. L is feeling cornered. It makes me anxious.

[Photo of Misa Amane, smiling in a sleeveless skull-and-crossbones shirt]

Misa Amane Idol There was an advertisement on the bus for fashion magazines with her on their covers. She seems to be a rather well-known figure in Japan.

Postscript: I have acquired Misa's photo albums, CDs, and DVDs as evidence. I passed them to L. L has not informed me of any new data from this analysis, but he has been playing the CD.

---

June 2, 2006

L announced to the investigators that "as of now, I have concluded that Light Yagami and Misa Amane are not Kira."

Light will still stay in the Kira Response Building to help with the investigation. L has accepted this. Could it be that L has recognized that someone else is on his level for the first time? I am happy for him, but also have complicated feelings about this. Is it possible that Light has become L's first-ever friend?

June 9, 2006

The Kira murders continue. L has been chewing his nails more often lately.

L, you should already know this: you do not need to carry the burden of all the world's crimes on your shoulders.

June 26, 2006

Light Yagami's theory may be our breakthrough in the case. His line of investigation has turned up a name: a Sakura TV newscaster, Kiyomi Takada.

[Photo of Kiyomi Takada, smiling placidly on a news channel, hands folded together]

Kiyomi Takada Newscaster for Sakura TV

She became the current face of the news channel EVENING SPOT after her predecessor Saeko Nishiyama's sudden death in a car accident. She quickly began hosting segments supporting Kira. She lives alone in a condo within the city.

---

June 30, 2006

You could say my scientific skills have started to rust, but as an inventor who tries to always think things through logically, I am feeling bewildered. There are "Shinigami," gods of death, who exist in this world. The Shinigami each carry a notebook, which is called a "Death Note." And the human whose name is written in the Death Note will die.

What on Earth? We've been up against Shinigami this whole time?

L was shocked. Unusual for him. But when I saw that surprise on his face, I actually felt relieved. At least Wammy's House — my creation — has not taken the capability for shock away from him.

Death Note: How to Use (Rules) — a partial excerpt

[T/N: Translations mostly copied from the Death Note wiki, with minor edits]

The human whose name is written in this note shall die.

If the cause of death is written within the next 40 seconds (in human-realm units) of writing the person's name, it will happen.

If the cause of death is not specified, the human will simply die of a heart attack.

After writing the cause of death, details of the death should be written in the next 6 minutes and 40 seconds.

If the time of death is written within 40 seconds after writing the cause of death — even if the cause of death is a heart attack — the time of death can be manipulated, and the death can go into effect even less than 40 seconds after writing the name.

The note will not take effect unless the writer has the person's face in their mind when writing his/her name. Therefore, people sharing the same name will not be affected.

The owner of the note can shorten their own life by using the note.

Even someone who does not own the note can use it by writing a name and thinking of a face, with the same effect as if they were the owner of the note.

After a name is written in the note, it cannot be changed.

The time of death written in the note must be within 23 days (in human-realm units).

July 3, 2006

Misa Amane has been released from the Kira Response Building.

July 4, 2006

The strange situation of a Shinigami coming in and out of the Kira Response Building has continued. I can't help but feel restless seeing a huge, white silhouette wandering about. This Shinigami is not cooperating with us, but isn't trying to hinder us either, it seems.

There have been multiple persistent calls for L to assist with the investigation into Princess Joan's overturned yacht. But L seems uninterested in any other cases right now. I have filed the investigation requests where he won't see them.

---

July 7, 2006

[This entry was translated here by @lunalit-river. I'll copy it over, but please show some love to the original post!]

L.

Was this the outcome of giving you the opportunity to learn? Was it arrogant of me to think that I had given you everything you needed? A genius without parents or relatives, without food or education, a genius who may have had a miserable past. Was I wrong?

L wrote his name in the Death Note.

Was this all for victory? Was this all for justice?

To fight something supernatural like the Death Note, it is true that we must arm ourselves with something that is also beyond human understanding.

It is highly possible that Light Yagami will write L's name in the Death Note. In theory, L must write his name in the Death Note first to prevent Light from doing so.

But don't human emotions have a tendency to refuse to accept the truth and instead hope to twist logic and theory?

L. Don't you ever place your emotions prior to your goals?

L. I never meant for things to end this way. Your talent has surpassed mine, and now you are consuming yourself. But I…

Today I learned F's death. Am I about to lose you, too? I have never felt so powerless as I do now.

L. I am confused. When I established Wammy's House, I might not have anticipated this.

I learned a lot from being with you, L, just as parents learn a lot from their children.

L. Just one sentence is enough. Please tell me you want to live.

L. L…

July 7, 2006

L Lawliet Heart failure Dies 23 days from now, peacefully, in his sleep

---

July 10, 2006

This is the end of the case, isn't it? Everything has been arranged. I will bring Misa to headquarters, and as long as Soichiro Yagami and the other Japanese investigators do as L says, everything should go perfectly. Tonight, the Kira case will be solved.

I have learned from L, who moves towards his goal still, indifferent in the face of death. I too will not waver.

L still has 20 days left. I'll spend them with him. Not because of everything I gave him in his lifetime, but because of everything I deprived him of. I can devote all my time to him now.

L, what do you want to do? You can play silly games, if you want. You can go make friends. If you don't mind my old age, I would gladly be your friend. Or your

Do you want to see sights you've never seen before? Do you want to feel breezes you've never felt? [T/N: He switches to polite speech just for this paragraph. Back to regular now.]

Get up from that way you always sit; let's go outside. Everything I took from you — the small, the inconsequential, the boring things — and the beautiful, dear ones too: let's go find them together. It's okay if you don't have any conclusions to draw. I just want you to have fun. To love the world in front of you. To savor it.

L. That's right. Just like a father and son on holiday.

I've been writing in this diary for forty years. I think I will stop in twenty days. I can't imagine anything I would want to write about, anything I should write about, would happen after that.

Alright. I'd better go and bring Misa over.

This is where the diary ends. The Kira case has been dormant ever since the last entry here.

[violxtdreams]

smol theory about how morella died

TW for discussions of death!! also SPOILERS for recent episodes in Season 2 (not fast pass ones)

so as i was rereading all the episodes we have as of now i noticed that Morella is probably the character we know the least about right now when it comes to what her life was like prior to dying and ending up in nevermore. Duke was a magician sabotaged during a show, Pluto had an abusive and alcoholic dad that probably offed him one way or another, Ada was a maid killed by her lover in the middle of the woods, etc. (we don’t know how Lenore died either but there’s a lot more content to speculate on that) we even know that Berenice was run over by a suspicious man despite our lack of lore on her that we’ll (probably) get soon.

i’ve heard small theories here and there that Morella died during the great famine in Ireland, which i didn’t subscribe to at first becuz no one had a death explicitly tied to a historical event like that… until we got Will backstory bits that seemed to take place during a period of severe dust storms—the dehydration from that would explain why his last meal of choice would have been peaches and a glass of water.

so i thought about how Morella’s chosen last meal was shepherd’s pie, a food made using leftover meat and popular among people in poverty. in episode 104 it’s also noticed by Eulalie that Morella is a rather good cook. when she asks where Morella learned, the latter brushes it off. and it’s pretty evident by now that people still retain their learned skills, behaviors and whatnot from when they were in the land of the living, like Duke with lockpicking.

so now cuz of all of this i actually think that it would make sense for her death to have happened cause of the Irish famine, whether directly or indirectly. the only thing is that i struggle to tie it in with the following—

her spectre being a guardian which strongly suggests she died trying to save/help/protect someone. this wouldn’t be a difficult puzzle piece into fit if not for the one below

the pattern of most the deaths being murders or close to being murders (Annabel was shot, Duke sabotaged, Montresor straight up tied to a railroad, Will was left for dead, that fire that burnt down the building Eulalie was in could have been intentional, based on the vision of Prospero’s fear courtesy of Ada he may have been wrongly operated on, etc etc only Lenore may not have been murder due to the lack of info)

the thing i have in mind is that she tried to get other people to eat, feed them, gave them food or something along those lines but someone found that stupid to say the least and either punished her by withholding food and making her starve or some other more obvious way of committing homicide due to her being seen as a liability, but maybe there’s better options out there that i just can’t think of lmao

[iamyourdailydoseofbi]

WRITING / ART TRADE FOR THE EVER SO AMAZING @somnolenthour

Never done something like this before, but I do think it's important to : a ) keep up my end of the trade with the skills I got b ) learn about other OC's and get into other writer's / artist's minds I hope you like it, and that I did your OC right! If I didn't do tell me so I can fix it! plot : Loretta Moss is haunted by Remmick. ( I did mention some Southern terms for ghosts and customs for getting rid of them in this. ) word count : 1,000+

Loretta Moss, was many things. She was kind, the kind of kind that most parents would scold their children and tell them to strive to be. She was a special one, truly, one that didn’t come around that often. But, the kind that couldn’t help but draw you in and want to stay around for a little longer, the kind that words didn’t do justice for. Most of all, she was beautiful. Inside and out. A kind soul, with the sweetest smile that made her eyes crinkle up and cheeks flush. If you were to ask most folks in town about her, you’d hear plenty of opinions on her. 

“Who? Loretta? What can I say but, she’s the kind of girl that’ll kill ya’ Mama with that sweet Southern charm. Make her pester you to snatch that girl up before another does.” 

“Oh, you mean, Miss Moss. What can I say but, she’s the kind of girl that you’d be happy with your son marrying. Make one mighty fine wife.”

“Oh, the girl from the hotel. What can I say but, she’s kind enough, pretty.” 

“Oh, no, you mean em’ strange one, who doesn’t attend church every Sunday. What can I say but, she’s the kind of girl who wears her skirt too high and her tongue too loose.”

The words didn’t bother her, people talked. Always did, always would. It was bound to happen when you lived in the middle of fuck knows where and had nothing interesting happening like those big old cities. If she lived in Chicago, or New York, someplace grand like Ruth did. She’d be a nobody, just another face that passed by in the rumbling streets. Never known. Never talked of.

She’d be able to rot away in peace in her bed, let her thoughts consume her until she wilted like a flower. Or maybe, it was just that small town madness that was putting those thoughts in her head. Making her overthink so much that she couldn’t tell what was the truth and what was fake.

Fuck. It wasn’t hard to be envious that Ruth got out of their shithole of a small town, out of the pitch black hole that consumed their minds⎯that made them so often question if this was a nightmare or a premonition of what was to come from some other worldly beings. Ruth got out. She got away. She got away.

She was probably working as a seamstress, making fancy gowns for those rich women in those fancy shops like in the magazines. Or maybe she was married, had a baby on the way. Or maybe she was no better than she was, stuck. Stuck in the past. Stuck in a small town. Stuck in the middle of fuck knows where. Wondering what was real and what was a trick of her mind.

Laying curled up in the wrinkled bed sheets, she digs her nails into the cotton, feeling the sweat that seeped into it. Her mind goes haywire, focusing on every little detail that it could sense. From the clicking of the clock downstairs, to the low chirping of crickets outside. From the way she could feel the old house groaning, old wood moving with the slight breeze in the air. From the way her vision adjusted to the darkness of her room, zoning in on the Spanish moss that blew just enough for it to tap her window. It was silent. It was peaceful. But, not for her. Not after what she dreamt of.

A man in the shadows, in the woods, in the marsh, in the swamps, everywhere. He was tall, bloody, eyes glowing a crimson red in the shadows that blurred his features. He smelt of something rotten, of something old, like the smell that the old crypts have after it rained. He sounded old too, not like he was dying, but rather a dying language flowed off his tongue as he spoke to her. It wasn’t Southern. It wasn’t from the States. Hell, it wasn’t from this time. No, it was older. It was dying, broken and rotten like him, like he had forgotten how to speak it. 

“Let me in..” He whispered, “into your heart.” 

She didn’t, her gut told her not to. Or maybe it was Meemaw's voice who told her not to let dark spirits in. They come wearing the face of men, get you dancing with them before they follow you home and never let you go. That’s what he was doing, trying to follow her home.

“Let me in.” He croaks, “Let me into your heart.”

“Let..me..in..”

“Let. Me. In.”

“Let me in, Loretta.”

“Let me in!”

It was a chant, a call. He was calling for her, like a wounded animal. Like the way stray dogs do for their pack. She wanted to scream. She wanted to cry. She wanted to throw something at him. She wanted him gone. But, he was persistent. Like a stubborn haint with unfinished business. She’d have to burn some sage, or paint some haint blue on her windows and door to get rid of him in the morning. For now, she’d have to endure. Endure him. Endure the crippling fear that kept her firmly planted in bed. Endure the countdown until sunrise. 

“Let me in.” He whispers, “I can save you, Loretta.” 

“You ain’t real.” She whispers, trying to block him out. 

“Sure, I am, suga’. I am just as real as you are.” He chuckles, making her flinch at the sound. 

“You ain’t real, just another nightmare.” She whispers, fingers tangling into her hair.  

She wanted to believe it. This was just another one of those nightmares. But, it felt so real. Too real to just be a dream. To just be something that her brain had come up with. There was too much realism. He had too much realism. Shifting her gaze onto the window to try to ignore him, he steps into the moonlight, clearly not liking being ignored. His boot clicked against the floorboards, before the scuffle of the dragging of a chair against the floor makes her cringe. 

“Nightmare? Na, I’m as real as em’ premonitions.” He chuckles, leaning back in the rocking chair. 

“You ain’t fuckin’ real.” She argues, shaking her head. 

“Suga’, I’m as real as you make me to be.”

"You ain't real." She whimpers, nails digging into her scalp.

Real, not real. Real, or not real. Pulling at strands of her hair, she could feel the tears bubbling up, exhaustion making her bottom lip tremble. She was just so tired. She wanted to sleep in peace, to dream of Ruth and the kind of life she was living. Not of him. Not of this.

Trying to remember what Meemaw has said years ago, she stares at him, teary eyes glimmering in the moonlight. Do not let dark spirits in. They come wearing the face of men, get you dancing with them before they follow you home and never let you go. That’s what he was doing, trying to follow her home.

“You ain’t welcome here.” She whispers, watching his rocking halt. 

"Say again." He hums, chuckling.

“You ain’t welcome here.” She repeats, her voice a little more firm this time.

He leans forward slowly in the chair, face becoming more and more clearer. Rugged features that once could be considered handsome, hidden by a thick layer of blood and peeling skin. Fangs in where normal teeth should be. He was a true monster. 

“Oh, I soon will be. Just you wait, suga’. Just you wait.” He cracks a bloody smile, tilting his head to the side. 

---

[dykesynthezoid]

I think a piece of context ppl might not have about Robby’s dynamics w both Mohan and Collins is how much doctors and other healthcare workers w marginalized identities end up picking up the slack for their more privileged colleagues. I mean they’ve done studies on this, specifically on how much extra labor doctors and nurses of color (esp Black, indigenous, & immigrant doctors and nurses) end up doing just trying to work against the structural inequities hurting their patients. Overwhelmingly those people end up having to go above and beyond because nobody else will do it, not consistently, not in a way that’s actually culturally-informed.

And let’s be very clear: the hospital system profits from that. They profit from squeezing this extra labor out of employees who are already carrying an inherent vulnerability their other coworkers are not. The more healthcare workers of color (esp women of color) overload themselves trying to make up for the whole system being fucked, the more the hospital profits bc they don’t have to actually change anything materially or policy-wise. They can just let those incredibly hard working and skilled people burn themselves out into nothing and then go “wow how did that happen.”

So I’m not saying that Robby is doing that specifically, bc he’s certainly not ideologically aligned w the hospital system enough for that; but he is clearly not aware or informed on what the workplace labor dynamic is like for Mohan and Collins. He’s riding Mohan to see more patients because that’s what’s profitable, but doesn’t understand that her dedicated patience and compassion are, in fact, already making the hospital money (see the fact that her patient satisfaction scores are highest!); and potentially to her own detriment, bc she feels a sense of responsibility to provide that level of care even without outside support.

And likewise he has to have it explained to him that Collins is vulnerable in a way he isn’t. He doesn’t get, immediately, why she might feel uncomfortable about adding to her own vulnerability and her own labor by potentially sacrificing everything for a single patient. Bc guess what, that’s the sort of sacrifice that would be expected of her and yet never expected of him. As if she were predestined for that burden. Of course she doesn’t want it.

[abyss-seer]

Random Messages Pick a pile

PILE 1

The cards

Pile 1, lots of thoughts, lots of thoughts right here. You guys could be overthinking, in most cases Iam getting people who are over analysing their intuition and skills, some you could be fellow readers . You guys could be feeling isolated by a community or group of people or could feel as if you do not belong. Very low self esteem and self worth as I can see in this. Someone feels really seperated or alienated from the people in their society/family or friends. Not doing very well cause they aren't listening to their intuition. Iam getting a couple, two people who are officially together, one is too pessimistic or conservative to embrace change, other is too drawn away from her own wisdom and inner being, (almost getting suffocated....) and listens to everything told to her without questioning. There's a sense of codepency in this couple and they aren't ready to confront the truth, hence you could feel isolated by them. Kpop group Shinee could be significant, Iam also getting the Underworld card from wild unknown archetype deck. Someone here is going through their shadow phase, learning to embrace their dark side, (someone specifically has this passive aggressive dark side). Its nothing evil, even though you might feel this way due to someone's words or feelings, especially if this is coming from a specific group of people trying to have a hypothetical grip on you. Its just a phase where you need to understand and accept yourself for the way express yourself and your anger when you are suppressed to stop it all. Iam getting burnout from too much work. There's a need to balance this imbalance. Your shadow side is just expressing her needs out loud. There's no need to shame her and supress her more than this. Enough is enough.

I literally got messages of Underworld and Undergrowth going to couple's therapy. Like Hades and Persephone are finally going to therapy. Idk why it reminds me of Alec Benjamin's I sent my therapist to therapy vibes. Idk if there's a song or animation about Hades and Persephone going to modern therapy, but if there is, you people could be talking about how your relationships started off so mafia-esque only to blossom into a beautiful one. I don't endorse or support abuse of anyone in here but seems like that could be the case for many of you. Idk why you all give me this Massimo and Laura vibes from 365 days. I am just saying sort whatever shit it is out and clear your misunderstandings, if shit is not good. Say damn it and leave!!! A Goodbye note if you want to cut off on a sweet note. It doesn't matter, I literally heard the dominant party go "whatever", so no bs behaviour, so whatever it is, I think you are being advised to be upfront about it

Iam also channeling heavy Shinee Taemin because he has the most Hades type vibes with his dark psychology typa songs

Iam getting intuition is sensory green here, there's deep heart chakra healing going on here, like star is trying to heal your dark side. And I am also getting that the messages that usually would come for you guys get lost cause you don't listen to your higher self, your higher mind and hence are so surprised by your superb intuition sometimes, you judge yourself to be less than what your intuition knows and this kinda makes your intuitive messages blurry for you girl. Literally listen to your messages and the signals your body gives you. Only you know

PILE 2

the cards

So the last card came in sideways which I will take as the magician that could have been upright, but is sideways because its manifestations are not coming to fruition due to somebody stealing off their money or resources. Mother of Pentacles reversed and seven of swords came out first with judgement in the back. There's some distraction or deflection or a very well laid trap or a deflection system laid down by some imposter. This energy also gives imposter syndrome right here. You might be in an energy where you are fated to see or realize how complete dependency in co-dependent relationships is serving you the harm, and maybe you are realising how much confidence or light is being dimmed so that you don't shine, so that your light doesn't shines someone's demons specifically. (I just heard flesh remains the same, so there's something around the fact that somebody is deliberately trying to keep you in this underconfident energy, and basing their reasoning for doing so with the fact that your past actions had been the same. I feel like you guys are getting on an journey to self reclaimation and transformation of your older self, as something about these old people whoever these judgy Karens are isn't nice. They want to keep you from behaving like a normal person just because they want you to always look down in life. Spirit is urging you to look up and face life with bravery and confidence. Also I am getting very disgusting reptilian energy of not letting someone life their life happily on their own terms because they (rep) want to wear their skin and be them.)

Iam also getting an INFP or INFJ energy from some of you. Maybe you are like this or someone wants you to be like this. Idk whoever this is. But be aware of copy cats and iam literally channeling "sluts" I am literally channeling a destiny stealer who wants to steal your partners and be you and your identity. Dang! Stay away from these covert narcissists. Yuck!

Also the reason why you could be wondering why your manifestations aren't coming in might be because you have dimmed your light way too much for your own liking and are literally requiring as honest assessment at this time. The back of the 5 of Pentacles card in Vice Versa tarot deck, you literally need to safeguard these resources of yours, the love and the light you give is not for everyone to take, asses and give out your assets properly or you will left broken, broke and in lack as it seems like you are very pretty and you keep giving love in platter as if no one will love you if you decided to be your authentic complex self. Stop being easy. You will to take care of them, your resources, your money, everything that wastes your time, just budget your money. Hold your pockets tightly, stop spending so much for so less in return.

You are literally setting your fate in motion to live in survival mode. You could feel like Titan from Attack on Titan manga always going on and destroying your own property and your people in the bloody name of coping from not getting love, being blamed on, and gaslighted off, feeling as if you can't reach your goals so you cannot even reach your goals. So you madly eat up every good thing you made in life, cause you are sad at your creations not being upto the mark.

Stop criticizing yourself and your creations for the lacks and flaws, embrace it as your trials and improve on it next time, why give up already? Why do so much and then do nothing at all due to lack of confidence. This charred confidence and projections of yours on yourself while other people are taking away from you by chipping away at your emotions. Damn! This is too much you winner. Leave these rustys alone. OMG pleaasse! Who is this Karen of a friend? Class is something looks better on you beautiful people like you babe, of course jealous, mannerless and shameless copy cats don't want you to know. So please you are the clique, that too on your own. So be HER and stop taking this Bitchna's advice. OMG this pile is serving, yet gets lost in so many voices. Bring yourself back babe, your light is here for a reason

[someinstant]

Behold, a VERY belated write up of my thoughts on ANDOR, season 2, episode 6: "What a Festive Evening." I'd hoped to get this done before episodes 7 through 9 came out, but-- yeah, that ship has sailed. Alas.

Anyway, these are getting longer, not shorter. And this one contains How I Would Deal With That Thing. Which might not be how you would handle it, and that's cool. We all have different thoughts, yeah?

I like that there are Corellian hounds running in the background at the port at Steerguard as Cassian walks onto the Fondor. Makes me think that they’re just really normal in urban environments, or places that have a lot of vermin. And a port is always going to have a lot of vermin.

Also, I love that we have Cassian in the same place on the Fondor, taking care of his arm back in season one.

Really, this is just a great way to give us a sense of what’s changed and what hasn’t in Cassian and Luthen’s relationship. Cassian has more skills and knowledge now, but he’s chafing under Luthen’s guidance. I love that Cassian’s concern is that, by acting, the Ghormans will die—brutally. Luthen throws back, “They’re finally wanting to do something and you tell them to be careful.”

“I’ll skip this one,” Cassian says, and it’s in the same voice as he says, “I’ll take the drop-off,” in the fourth episode of season one. But this time, Luthen doesn’t have a kyber crystal to bribe him with. He can’t appeal to Cassian’s mercenary sense anymore; Cassian sees the cause, now—but unlike Luthen, he’s looking at it in a very immediate, personal way. He’s thinking about how Carro Rylanz is likely to lose his daughter if the Ghorman Front goes loud against the Empire, and what that would cost. He’s thinking about the bellhop, who has never really moved on from the place where he lost his father to Tarkin—just like Cass can’t move on from Kenari and Ferrix. The fight is personal for Cassian, and—I think—for as much as he hardens himself, Cassian likes people.

Mostly. (I think by the end of Planet Dipshit he would have happily fed all of them to the doodar if it hadn’t taken initiative.)

But Luthen: sunless space, dreams, ghosts, etc. People are tools to be used. So he calls up Kleya and is like, yo, DoorDash left me the wrong salad. And she’s like, you knew you didn’t want that salad when you ordered it, luckily we’ve got a burrito in transit.

By which we mean: Vel. In this context, the burrito is Vel. She looks extremely cool, sitting on the main stairs into the plaza at the center of Palmo, and someone does the old pretend-to-stop-and-fiddle-with-my-boots trick to cover for the exchange of passcodes.  “Visiting friends?” he asks. Vel, like Cassian, has friends everywhere.

Back on Corusant, we follow Cassian down the long, miserable corridor to the safehouse. He rings the bell, taps in a rhythm, and—nothing. No one answers. He pulls his gun and enters, and you get a sense that he’s terrified of what he might find behind the door. Hell, considering the shape Bix was in, I was terrified, too.

But there she is, coming out of the bedroom. The apartment is clean, and about as home-y as it can get. There are flowers on the table-- sad, pathetic things; expensive, she notes, but worth it.

And then they make out and it is very hot, because they are two extremely hot people who have a lot of chemistry, and—yeah. Bix asks about the trip, and who Cass was this time, and—it’s just seriously cute, okay? Cassian says, “I was Varian Skye,” and tosses his jacket with a flourish. “I was a fashion designer.” Very dramatic, a little silly. He’s trying to make her smile, and it’s DARLING.

And THEN—he starts to talk about the fancy clothes he was wearing, and says, “I was very, very pretty, and Bix says, “Well, you’re gonna have to bring him home some night.” And then I DIED. Expired. EXCUSE ME. BIX. JUST WHAT ARE YOU IMPLYING MY GIRL.

(I know what you’re implying and I support you. Get it, Bix.)

But alas—the conversation slips sideways. Cassian says that Ghorman wasn’t dangerous, just a lot of talk—that it was Luthen on the way home that scared him. And Bix says, yeah I get that, that man can be scary, and CASUALLY DROPS that Luthen came by to chat while Cass was gone.

Now. Bix—I love you. But I am going to blame the chronic sleep deprivation, PTSD, and possible drug dependency for the fact that you did not seem to anticipate that this would set Cassian off like a grenade. The man has ONE big red button, and it’s labeled, “BAD THINGS HAPPENING TO PEOPLE I LOVE.” Luthen getting anywhere near that is going to make him absolutely ridiculous.

In a totally different stratosphere of Coruscant, Mon Mothma and Perrin are in the back of their Space Cadillac (very clearly being driven by Kloris the ISB Snitch from Season 1, hmm) working out the schedule of parties they need to hit. This, evidently, is ABSOLUTELY the thing Perrin is good at. We get this fascinating glimpse of how the two of them *can* actually function as a couple—maybe not as lovers—but as partners. Or could, at one point. They’re both looking at the schedule, talking about who to miss, where to go next, and Mon says, “Why so difficult this season? You never struggle,” and there’s not a note of derision or anything in her tone. It’s honest. She means it. Perrin’s GOOD at this, and she appreciates his help here.

On this topic: I’ve seen some chatter about how folks are like, “Why do they suddenly like each other now? They HATED each other last season!” And—look, I actually really love this character work, because relationships—especially ones that have lasted as long as the one between Perrin and Mon—change SO MUCH over time. They’re not the same people they were when they were fifteen, and they’re not the same people they were in the first episodes of this season, either. Their daughter has left home, Tay is dead—and Perrin clearly thought Mon was in a relationship with him—I can see how they would reach for the comfort of someone who they may not love or even like, most days. But they know each other. (Or at least that’s what Perrin must think.)

Also: if you haven’t, I do recommend reading Alexander Freed’s Mask of Fear, which features Mon and Perrin in the first few years after the establishment of the Empire. Does a great job of engaging with the way their relationship has blown hot and cold, on and off, for the entirety of their lives.

And then Cassian is BAD AT OPSEC, because Luthen pushed his big red button. He comes to the antiquities shop (!!?!!!!!) in the middle of the night (!?!) and yells at Luthen for coming to sniff around Bix while Cassian was out of the picture.

(Which. Hang on. Luthen DIDN’T WANT a salad. He knew that. Kleya had a burrito on standby for him. Did he order a salad anyway just so he could go check on Bix without Cassian around? Oooh. Okay. Yeah, Cass, I see why you’re so pissed now.)

And then Luthen fucking MOCKS Cassian: “kIlL mE oR tAkE mE iN,” whines Luthen, and then growls, “You’re in.”

“You want my blood?” Cassian asks. “You help me work this out.” And the this in question is Bix’s ongoing troubles. So. Luthen’s gotta figure out a way to get Bix right, or he’s losing Cassian. Package deal at this point.

Following this thread, we land in the hallways of the ISB, where Heert is walking with Lonni. Partagaz wants to talk to both of them about Dr. Gorst, which is going to be VERY convenient for Luthen in a moment. Turns out that Naval Intelligence has convinced the Emperor that the ISB has to share their special torture DJ, and so the Empire is now setting up a joint interrogation center on Coruscant where they can scale up their genocide listening sessions. MAGICAL. Partagaz is less than delighted by the whole idea, and tells Lonni and Heert that he’s counting on them to keep an eye on “these idiots,” and Heert can’t help but toady up. “An honor, sir,” he says. Just the brownest of noses, this one.

And Partagaz just—withers him with a glance. “Really?” he says. “It’s an assignment. Calibrate your enthusiasm.”

I am going to say that from here on out whenever I assign anything in class.

Okay. And now we’re going to Ghorman, and with Vel—and Cinta.

So the first thing I want to say about this is: I don’t hate everything about this storyline. I think there are things that work. And think there is an enormous own-goal that was unnecessary, and could have been avoided. And should have been. And I think that most of the problem comes down to a problem of pacing, which is exacerbated by the condensing of what originally conceived of as four years of story into twelve episodes.

That being said: this establishing shot of Vel in the café as Cinta arrives—the yin-yang of the window framing, the way the camera swings to show us Cinta walking in the door through the plaza, sitting at the table (it’s a full set! A real place! There’s depths! Salt shakers and little bottles on the table!)—it’s all perfection. The actors have such restraint and control in their bodies for the first several minutes. Uncomfortable with each other, but trying not to show it.

And then—Vel is brave, and says: “I told Luthen I would only take this assignment if you were on it.” And the way Cinta’s eyes light up at that is heartbreaking. “You’re the only reason I’m here,” Cinta says—and I am TRYING not to imagine how that sentence is going to cut in Vel’s heart like a dagger for the rest of her life, but.

Yeah.

Look, I don’t THINK it’s a reference, but I’m incapable of hearing someone say, “I’ll have what she’s having” on film and not think of the faked orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally.

Anyway. We go from this deeply tender, if restrained, reunion, to the Dedra being told that she’s going to have to keep girlbossing and gatekeeping Syril. She seems uncomfortable, but when does Dedra look comfortable about anything?

We go to the planning sequence for the convoy heist on Ghorman. Vel is calling the shots around the table in a dark underground room—v. atmospheric, I like it—and is grilling the Ghorman Front on timetables and cleaning things up. She says no one carries blasters but her and Cinta. The little twerp from the plaza pushes back on that, and—look, his name is Samm. Two m’s. Last time we had an Unnecessary M guy, it was Timm, and he was a snitch.

I’m just saying, Samm’s not setting himself up for great things, here.

We get lots of pacing out the alley, investigating the tunnel, looking at the rooftops—it’s all very heist-y. And I do love a good heist.

But—here’s my first problem with the pacing on all of this: I know what’s going to happen, and it’s not because this is a prequel and I know that Cassian Andor has to steal the Death Star plans. I know that Cinta’s dead. Right now, I know it. She said, "I'm only here because of you,” and I was like, “Oh NO.” And I know that Samm’s going to carry a blaster, and something’s going to happen, and Cinta’s going to die. I won’t lie, I was very tired the first time I watched it, and I definitely forward-forward-forwarded through some of this stuff, because I knew the shape of the narrative already.

And look, a predictable story isn’t a BAD one. But in order for a predictable story to work, it needs to be paced immaculately, and this one isn’t. It all happens over the course of twenty minutes.

So here’s my fix to the pacing problem, okay?

We put Vel and Cinta on Ghorman in episode 4. Have THEM be Luthen’s first contact with the Front, do the café scene. Maybe there’s a slight factional divide, and they’re working more with the younger Ghorman Front members. Have Luthen decide to send Cassian when he gets the information about Dedra, and when he hears that Rylanz is willing to act. Maybe they rekindle their relationship in this episode, or at the start of episode 5.

Then, in episode 5, you have Cassian do the same stuff he already does in episode 5—but have him interact with Vel and Cinta at some point. Maybe they disagree about the readiness of the group. He bounces, Vel and Cinta stay.

Episode 6, you start planning the heist earlier. If it’s me, I intercut it with Mon and Perrin trying to figure out what parties to hit up when, because—yeah, thematically that works. Proceed from there. ALSO! This gives you more space in episode 6 for the Bix-and-Cassian revenge arc! Two birds, one stone.

Does this address the problem of the Bury Your Gays trope? Look, man, I don’t know. But what I do know is that Vel and Cinta’s relationship means a lot to people who don’t get to see themselves represented very often in the media they love, and to have one partner ripped away just a few minutes after they got back together is—NOT GREAT, BOB. But I do understand that this is a war, and people die in wars, and ANDOR has been really clear that the characters we love aren’t safe. So I’m not honestly angry about the death qua death. But I’m gonna toss some of Tony’s words back at him, and say: you can’t cash a check if you haven’t put any money into the bank. And I think they overdrafted the account on this one. You want this to not feel cheap? Let us spend time with Vel and Cinta, and remind us why she IS a miracle.

Okay. Diatribe over.

Back on Coruscant, Bix has hidden her No-More-Nightmare drops above the vent in the kitchen. (Sidenote: do we think that Cass knows she’s using? He has to suspect, yes? He’s a spy for god’s sake.) Cass wakes up, and Bix is staring out the window—the signal light is flashing. Luthen has a job for Cass, and Bix blearily tells him that no matter what the job is, she’s coming.

Vel and Cinta, the night before the job. Cinta says, “We’re worth more to Luthen separately than together,” which is—definitely a theme for Luthen! He’s like, “Why can’t all of you just give up kinship, joy, love? Burn your life, etc.?” Kleya, too, wishes all the agents she runs had fewer feelings.

Cinta and Vel have a LOT of feelings, however. Remember how in Season 1, when Bix got out of Timm’s bed and we were all, like, “Ooh, someone in Star Wars fucks!” and then we met Cassian in his Keef phase, and we were like, “Oh, no, I’m sorry, someone in Star Wars fucks.” This episode is much hornier than either of those instances, and god bless it for that.

We go from a very sexy kiss to the least sexy thing ever: the Senate. Taking a loyalty oath. Mon is having a hard time choking out the words, and is clearly distressed as she leaves the building.

Hard cut to Luthen, all fancied up. He calls to Kleya, also lookin’ sharp with a nice brooch on her gown, and they head off to the Sculdun party: they’ve got a listening device to retrieve. So, theoretically, we’ve got three missions going on: Ghorman heist, whatever Cass and Bix are up to, and the Sculdun skullduggery.

On the way into the party, Mon and Perrin meet Bail—who is Benjamin Bratt! I know folks might have been upset about this, but I think he’s really good in the role? And, like, this section of the lead up to ROGUE ONE means you absolutely need Bail, and if Jimmy Smits wasn’t available, I’d much much much rather a recast than some sort of GenAI bullshit. We’ve got to get beyond the idea that there is only One True Casting for a character. It ain’t healthy, y’all. Let there be multiple performances and interpretations. Consider it like theater! It’s fine!

Anyway, Mon’s gown is fucking incredible. If costuming doesn’t get a nod during the Emmys this year, there is no justice in the world.

Syril has got to be so damn happy to be playing spies for Partagaz.

Heert getting blasted on Kali Koolers at the Sculduns’ party is amazing. Also—Lonni’s pretty fucking good at the spying gig, isn’t he? You hear him clock Heert ask Legret, “Where’s your buddy?” and—dude, he means KRENNIC. Legret and Krennic are friends or something. That’s USEFUL.

Kleya using Lonni as a human shield is amazing. This whole sequence is amazing—stand here, shift left, do you have any idea who is in this room right now?!

I adore how much Krennic and Mon loathe each other, and how vitriolic their conversation is.

Okay, I lied: another pacing note. I think another problem I have with the Ghorman heist is that it feels inert in comparison with these scenes in the Sculdun collection room. I already know Cinta’s dead, I know that’s the story beat we’re headed towards, and I know the shape of how it’s likely to happen. I DON’T know what the fuck might happen in the room where Kleya and Lonni and sweating bullets and bleeding all over stone books in order to remove a stuck listening device while one of the most depraved men in the galaxy spars over the definition of terrorism with a woman who has to keep smiling while she does it. I am just MUCH more interested in one of these scenes, unfortunately. In order for intercutting to work, it’s got to be a mirrored level of tension. Half the scenes are brilliant. The others are fine.

I will say, Cinta’s stunt is pretty badass, though.

“And what were you going to do if I weren’t here?” asks Lonni. “Anything I had to,” Kleya says, and I believe her implicitly.

It’s the stupid Samm kid, of course. He brought a blaster. Tried to threaten a local away from the scene, and when the man tried to wrestle him away, the blaster went off. And Cinta is gone. They carry her body back to the transport, and Vel is just—frozen in grief.

On the transport, Samm is sobbing. And Vel—it’s horrifyingly beautiful, what she says. “Are you crying? Are you? Look at me. Look at me. There’s no place to hide, look at me. I’m not going to say remember this, because I don’t have to. This is on you now. This is like skin. You’re taking her with you wherever you go for the rest of your useless life.” This is like skin. That line is going to stick for a while, honestly.

So. Cinta’s gone. I don’t hate the idea of the death, and I think the writing of the aftermath is insanely strong. I think the pacing leading up to it made the whole thing feel like whiplash. But we’ve got four years of ideas crammed into one year of show. And I think this is where we’re seeing the seams of the story bulge badly for the first time.

And then to go from that, to the rising series theme as Luthen and Kleya walk out, talking about how their faces hurt from smiling, and giggling about how they should have killed Krennic—it’s very jarring. And maybe that’s the point. But I don’t know that it pays off. Hmm.

And then—we get the Cassian and Bix revenge tour. And, I don’t know. Do you put it all here at the end? Do you cut it up and intermix it into the Ghorman-Sculdun stories, and switch between three instead of two? This feels like an odd tag, and honestly, I wasn’t initially certain it wasn’t another of Bix’s nightmares.

Watching Gorst’s head flop back as Bix leaves the room is excellent, though. And I like that Cass left her to do that part of the mission alone. And her smile after he hits the charges—

Well, that’s just good.

Overall, did I enjoy this episode? Yes. Absolutely. Is it the one that I want to pull apart and reorganize structurally? Yep. Are there parts where I was like, I dunno how I feel about this? Yep.

Still one of my favorite things on television ever, man.

[ajarofbees]

FIORE THORNE:

As a personafication of 'dogged enthusiasm', it would be pretty hard to keep Feefee down—but not impossible. The key would not only to show his aspirations of Warden heroism and ideals are useless, but actively harmful, that he's, at best, putting up a good fight that has an unevitable end. Because he puts so much of himself into his dream of being a heroic Warden, undermining it all would make it hit that much harder.

Thankfully, it's really really really really hard to get him down that far and to keep him down. Feefee gets back up and tries again! And this time around he's got friends around him! With how serious the threat of evanuris is (and everything else running around), he can start falling into spells of gloom, but that's when the rest of the Veilguard swoops in to lend a hand. (I like the interpretation I've seen around that some of the companion outings are for Rook's benefit as well as their own!)

(I feel like some of Feefee's answers seem to be like "he likes Wardens and his friends :)" which is a bit funny to me.)

DIONYSUS DE RIVA:

I think what would get him is facing the choice he's been very smoothly ignoring for most of his life: embrace being a Crow or embrace the kernel of morality he's still got. He's not idealistic like Teia, so he can't see the Crows as a family or some sort of noble outlaw figures, but it's all he's known and he's good at it. Takes pride in his skills at the very least. It's thanks to being a De Riva with Viago and with Teia nearby that he's been able to be in this inbetween state for so long, but it's not addressing the problem, isn't it?

Anyways, the despair part is being forced to choose, but seeing the "problem" in the form of absolutes, no middle ground or nuance. Thankfully, he's now got friends that aren't assassions (well, most of them), so facing that decision will be less scary.

"Do they frequently feel hopeless?" That's probably why he's so annoying. Can't be too sad when you're being the Cantori Diamond's number one pain in the ass and medicore Guy At The Party With A Guitar!

Dorothea Ingellvar:

As a mildly workaholic, dutiful Mourn Watch mage, researcher and former honor student, what would get her the most is not being able to solve a problem, and the end result getting people, especially people she cares about, hurt. She's a mage of the Mourn Watch! She's supposed to know the esoteric secrets of the Necropolis, the Fade and the spirits all around them! What good is all those smarts and magic power if she can't help anyone or solve the problem? And the bigger the problem, the bigger the sense of responsibility. It's a two-step problem though because after the initial despair, we get despair part TWO—she fixates on trying to find out how to "fix" things, often falling into research spirals that means she basically hides in a room, pouring over books and reaching out to the Fade for any sort of answer.

In the past, Dietlinde would help pull her out of it (sometimes literally), joined by some of the members of the Watch they were close to. Thankfully, the Lighthouse gang are willing to do the same in the present.

Rook Intro Hour: Despair

Hey, there! Happy Friday! Hope you have a fun weekend coming up!

How it works: I ask you a question about your Rook(s) and you answer it with as much brevity or verbosity as you desire. The easiest way for me to keep track of everyone is for you to reblog this post and add your answer, although you can also mention me in a separate post, if you want! You can do this whenever you want, and I’ll reblog it + add some comments! There’s no time limit— if you want to do the older ones, they are collected here! (The post is updated on Fridays!)

*Please be aware that if you rb RIH to a community WITHOUT rbing to your blog first, I CANNOT rb and comment. If you want me to comment, please put the post on YOUR BLOG first. Thanks!

Today’s Question(s): What would it take for Rook to give up completely? What things have or could happen to them that would make them lose hope that they could keep going? Do they frequently feel hopeless? What do they do to stop feeling that way?

Have fun, be creative, and thanks for sharing !

[tothestarsinvelaris]

Elain using her gardening and cooking skills to create antidotes, salves, poisons, etc to help in war.

Elain's visions being essential to the success of the NC and their allies to stay ahead of their enemies.

Elain working with Rhys to keep strong mental shields up so people can't use her visions against them.

Elain getting training from Azriel on how to use daggers effectively, how to be stealthy and fade into the shadows.

Azriel helping Elain in the kitchen, using his hands to make warm food for his family.

Azriel helping Elain in the garden, planting seeds and getting his hands dirty in a way that helps bring life into the world instead of taking it away.

[fiapple]

i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.

just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.

you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.

to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.

[teh-nos]

this morning i started writing a thorki au and it has already committed the following sins: modern au; thor & loki not being related; blue-collar thor while loki is posh. but i don't care because the whole concept is stupid and tailored to my very specific demands and there is as ever a good chance i will never make any real progress on it anyway. ha ha. ha haha. so there.

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

rewatching 13s era for me is not so much diminishing returns as it is something opposite and eviler...............increasing losses? increasing losses

[chatonmagique]

I'm discussing neurodiversity with a friend and she actually suspects she has adhd. I might have all the experience of adhd but who am I to judge right? But the thing is.. she has such strong qualities in area's that are challenging for people with adhd. And I feel like her definition of disorder because she is so balanced and organized in everything she does is on a whole different level. Like she is used to following through in her calculated choices and sticks to her habits more then almost any person I've known and it really sticks out to her when she doesn't. And her definition of I might have adhd is "I've always been dreamy and get distracted by my own thoughts when I'm supposed to be paying attention when someone is talking" Which IS a hallmark of adhd. But I can't feel help but feel.. misunderstood? Because I feel like she underestimates what it means to actually live with adhd. And it's such a fundamental aspects of my life that I know she'd be damn good in masking and overcompensating most adhd symptoms if she had it. I feel a little stupid for letting me bother it, but it still does? Maybe more because she is a close friend of mine.

[kaythefloppa]

I really have no context or reasoning behind this, but rapid-fire headcanon: Tinker Bell was the one who built Bucky.

[fushitoru]

seperation anxiety! a (clan head) gojo satoru fic

pairing ⸺ clan head!gojo x wife!reader

summary ⸺ satoru begs you to attend a meeting with the higher-ups, but not for the reasons you thought. inspired by this art by @/baobei-bu!

warnings ⸺ SMUT, gojo is a warning by himself, VERY public sex, reader has a vagina, fem reader implied, no penetration, fingering, fondling, making out, panty-ripping, exhibitionism, kinda cucking but the only ppl humiliated and humbled are the higher ups, porn no plot, but plot if you squint, reader is a strong independent woman (until gojo charms her, bc who wouldn't turn into a cockslut for gojo?), this took me at least five hours to write for no good reason?, not edited (like always....)

a/n pls enjoy and thank u to the queen for making such delicious art (p.s. go to their twitter for nsfw ver i squirted)

general masterlist

“Pleaseeeee,” Satoru has his face buried in your chest, nuzzling in further while complaining. It’s almost comical how he—head of the biggest clan in Jujutsu—is leaning down to match your height. You, meanwhile, stand firm, arms crossed, regarding him with a mix of exasperation and reluctant affection as he leans down to meet your gaze. “Will you come with me?”

The question comes as the dreaded meeting with the higher-ups looms, a gathering he's been dodging all day. It technically began ten minutes ago, and you barely managed to wrangle him into his formal kimono just twenty minutes earlier. You sigh, fingers brushing his hair. “Satoru, you know what they think of me. I'm not exactly their favorite person.” You’re both standing in the middle of your shared bedroom, you imploring him to be on time for his meeting to avoid getting even further shit from the higher-ups.

Mind you, you’re the more rational one between you and Satoru—in fact, most of the people who know you would agree that you’re a very mature, wise person in general (with the exception of some circumstances, of course). And despite the respect your skill commands, the higher-ups have never warmed to you, not since you refused to play a pawn in their games. Marrying Satoru, the one jujutsu sorcerer they could never control, only amplified their discontent. They see you both as threats—powerful sorcerers bonded in defiance.

At the mention of "higher-ups," Satoru's pout deepens, and his pleading voice grows more insistent. “Pleeeease,” he drags out, practically whining. “I have separation anxiety.”

You feel a pang of sympathy. These meetings are miserable for him—hours trapped in a room with men twice his age, trying to dictate his every move. “I don’t know, Satoru…” you murmur, hesitating.

But Satoru takes advantage of your softening resolve, hugging you tighter, his face pressing into you again. “Don’t make me go in there alone!” he says, his voice muffled. “You have no idea how much you silence them. One word from you, and they all think twice. I’m already one step away from wanting to kill them all.”

A sigh escapes you as you realize he’s not letting up. And while you’re reluctant, you know that your presence, your opinion—one of the few he truly values—might actually give him a sense of calm in that harsh room. “Alright, alright,” you concede finally, hand smoothing the fabric of his sleeve. "But no making a scene." 

His answering smirk is smug, giving you a fat, sloppy kiss on your cheek that you’re not afraid to show your partial-disgust about. You all but have to wrestle him off of you white he’s smothering you in kisses, getting out something about how much loves you, oh so thankful to have such a wise wifey like you as you get ready in a kimono similar to his and head to the limo waiting outside of the manor you and Gojo reside in. 

As soon as you get in, Gojo turns sharply to Ijichi, who’s shifting the gear. “Put the divider up.”

“O-Okay, Gojo-san.” A little intimidated by the commanding tone in your husband’s voice, he quickly presses the button to activate the screen, and Gojo pounces on you, grabbing you and hoisting you up by your sides to put you on his lap.

“Satoru!” you exclaim, surprised as he captures his lips with yours. His hands roam your body as he moans, almost obnoxiously, because he knows you’re always paranoid whenever he initiates anything in public. Your crotch aligns with his thigh, big and stuffed with muscle as he drives your hips to grind on him, and despite yourself and your circumstances, you find yourself leaning into his touch.

“My pretty wife,” he purrs, now trailing kisses down your jaw and into your neck. “So pretty, so supportive.”

Despite his dizzying movements, you try to get a hold of yourself. “Satoru, we shouldn’t be doing this here. We need to discuss what to sa—”

“Fuck that,” he sighs, so breathless that you want to cave in.

“No, but—”

His eyes darken, and his hands start creeping up your legs, going slowly and slowly closer to your pussy. “Baby, you know I value what you have to say,” and his fingers graze your folds, making you leak even more with his teasing, “but I wanna listen to something else.”

He drags his index finger up and down your slit, making you whimper. His fingers then prod into your hole, putting pressure there but not quite delving in. “Satoru,” you whine out, clutching his upper arms as he has his way while toying with you.

“Yea, that’s what I wanna hear,” he groans, giving you a kiss. It is then that he rewards you with inserting his digit in, curling to hit your spot as he fingers you. HIs other arm is around you, holding your panties’ crotch to the side to allow him to touch you. “My good girl.”

As he’s touching you, the squelching sounds fills the enclosure you’re in and you’re desperately praying to God Ijichi can’t hear the lewd things the both of you are doing in the back. You’re just reduced to whimpering, unable to reject Satoru’s dizzying touches, his free hand leaving your panties to grope at your inner thighs, ass, and breasts. It’s like he’s devouring you with his kisses, urgent, as he continues curling his fingers. 

Between kisses, you try to get out a “Satoru—mmph,” smooch, “we shouldn’t be—mm” smooch, “shouldn’t be doing this here!” 

“What,” he drawls, and with the glint in his eyes you know the fucker’s trying to toy with you, knows what he’s doing is mischievous. “I can’t touch my wife?”

Before you could utter a response, however, the limo suddenly slows, and the sensation of using the brakes to stop the car makes you sober up. “We’re here, Satoru we need to go—-” As you’re trying to rip yourself off his lap, he pulls out the finger that was inside you and uses his hand instead to entangle it with the crotch of your panties, pulling and pulling until the cloth is nothing but shreds, falling off your body.

Oh my god, you were not paid enough for this shit.

With his oh-so-irritating eyes—the same ones that you spent despising in your early school years—he looks at you through his pretty white lashes as he makes a show of sniffing the now tattered shreds that were your panties and putting them in his pocket. Under your kimono, you can feel your slick escaping your panties as the cool air wafts through it, landing on your pussy. You look at him in disbelief. “I can’t believe you just did that.”

He giggles, giving you a kiss on the cheek while helping you off his lap, putting a hand on your head to make sure you didn’t bump your head against the car’s ceiling. “Let’s go and deal with those hags, my love.”

To be honest, you don’t really understand why Satoru is so handsy today. He’s on some sort of man-ovulation, you think, as you stride into the room. Even ripping off your panties was a bit excessive, if not out of pocket (no pun intended). Breaking out of your thoughts, you grounded yourself in the present, noticing hostile eyes turned towards your husband, and then you. You match their barely-subtle glares with a stink eye of your own, holding your chin up as you walk past them dismissively. Just as you’re about to take a seat next to Gojo—being mindful of your kimono so you don’t flash any of these old bastards—one of them speaks up. 

“Gojo-sama, why is this woman here?”

You continue to take your seat, noticing Satoru’s jaw clenched. But right as he’s about to say something, you cut in for him. “This woman,” and you smile, deceptively sweet, “is the lady of the clan. It would do you well to remember the hierarchy of the Gojo clan.” You don’t need to turn to look at your husband to know he has a proud smile on his face, making no effort to hide his smugness. What shocks you instead is that he swings an arm around you, effectively dragging you closer to him until you’re basically sitting on his lap, and his hands go to roam your sides.

Now, some old grandpa starts talking, commencing the meeting, on their usual bullshit of the need for extermination of Sukuna’s vessel, but Satoru pays them no mind. Instead, what they receive in response is non-committal hums as his hands drag themselves up your stomach and down where your legs are crossed to the hem of your kimono, and then under. 

Any semblance of paying attention to the meeting and responding to their infuriating beliefs leaves your mind as you blank out, panicking that Satoru is trying to commit public indecency with you. As an argument erupts between the higher ups about something, you turn to Gojo to furiously whisper, “What is wrong with you today?! Cut it out.”

In your life, you’ve fought many curses, first grade and even special grade included as you climbed up the ranks of Jujutsu sorcery despite having a non-sorcerer upbringing. What you will never be able to defeat, however, is your husband’s charm. Satoru knows what he’s doing as he lets out a deep moan in your ear, making you squeak and become even more flustered, as he continues to make lewd noises, puffs of his breath fanning across your neck. 

a/n gojo the type to start moaning randomly to make you fold #sorrynotsorry 

The indecency of all of it—-Gojo basically whimpering in your ear sweet nothings like good girl, that’s my wife, gonna let me finger you in front of all these ugly hags, right?—-being loud in your ear but also just quiet enough that you’d only hear made you so wet, heat throbbing between your thighs as Satoru’s hands start rubbing your fold. It’s a teasing touch, one not enough to satisfy you but to stimulate you nonetheless. 

It’s just when his index finger starts slowly circling around your clit that you buck your hips slightly, making him look at you teasingly, peering down at you from above your shoulder. “Oh you liked that, didn’t you?”

“I hate you,” you puff out, trying to fight the heat creeping up your neck as Satoru’s circles on your clit get more tangibly, simulating you oh so deliciously. To make sure you hold yourself up, you set your elbows down on the table, Satoru’s arms engulfing you as you’re forced to take whatever touches he’s giving you under the table. 

“She’s so loud,” he whispers, pointing out the noises your pussy was making as his digits roved over your folds. The squelches were tangibly there, audible to anyone who would strain their ears. You could tell your lack of response to the meeting was catching attention, because there were several eyes towards you, waiting for something; it was then you realized that they had posed a question but were simply too fucked out to respond. 

A voice comes out to reprimand your husband sharply. “Gojo-sama, this is hardly appropriate.”

Satoru chuckles, not stopping his ministrations as he picks up a cup filled with water, his smug gaze still turned towards you while observing and appreciating your every hiccup and reaction. “Can’t my spouse attend this meeting? I value her opinion above everyone else’s in this room, after all,” he drawls, lodging his chin in the curve of your neck. “Besides,” and he flashes a dangerous grin to the man who spoke out, “weren’t you the ones who were oh so worried about me not having an heir?” 

At this point, you’ve filtered out all noises, focusing and honing in on the sensation of your orgasm coming. His digits are playful, curling up to hit your g-spot repeatedly, his palm tickling your clit. Each time he hits your spongy spot a bout of electricity runs up your body, pulling you closer and closer to your orgasm. 

“But guess what,” and he gives you a kiss on the cheek, despite the aversion the rest of the higher ups have to any displays of affection, “we can solve that problem right here, right now.” He punctuates it with a harsh sink of his fingers into your plush cunt, and, with that, you finally cream his fingers, a result of Satoru teasing you all day now. You try to temper the shakes wracking your body by slamming your fist against the table, trying not to moan out.

It seems that no one’s seen you riding out your orgasm out so visible, because there are gasps around the room at how obscene Gojo’s suggestion was. “It is shameful of you to be saying such things, Gojo-sama!” one of them sputters out, red with anger and outrage. 

Your husband not so subtly rolls his eyes. “Then don’t bring it up all the time, old man.” Satoru knows how touchy and vulnerable you are right after you cum, so he’s running his hands softly up and down your thighs to quell your quivers affectionately. “Actually, what about this? You all haven’t witnessed us consummate our marriage, correct?” He smirks. “What about witnessing the heir-making next time?”

general masterlist

a/n pls see the vision like i want gojo to claim me and rail me into next tuesday while the higher ups just watch uncomfortably like maybe i am a freak like that. like gojo would be so obsessed with how he's claiming you in front of the fuckers that piss him off so much...might do a part two if pookiesa like this :P

comment and reblog to let me know ur thots :3

[iamnotlookingidonotseeit]

sometimes I tell my parents things. often then i wonder why i even open my mouth. but when I keep it light I end up wondering why I can't seem to connect on any real kind of level. and I add another thing to the list for therapy