#Oc’s being badass

[starrysharks]

reassassination swap AU... fuckin.... unassassination idfk

[a-song-for-ages]

Down Bad

Mix of hotd series and the books idk maybe

Somewhat eventual willem blackwood fic (age gap of like 13?)

no beta we go down like canon jon snow (he's dead)

pronunciation of daenerys that is used: dy(die)-nair-ris

Summary:

Daenerys Velaryon sees her mother dressed as a nun and knows she's up to no good but decides to let the Queen do as she pleases without interfering. (If only all parents had such children.)

Pt. 1

"Mother," her voice was soft, and still, and it cut through the air like ice. There was no warmth in it, not when she seemed to walk upon on her mother and her dragon - the less sensible of the two dressed like a virginal woman of a Faith she had little love for.

"Di," her mother turned, hair spun like the silver of the moon and gold of the sun - a stark contrast to her own, the black of night, the image that brought upon her family the scrutiny of lesser men and hisses of poisoned vipers awaiting to strike - nevermind the colour of their eyes, so light, her own, so dark, her brothers, and yet, contrasting and complimenting that wine of her own mother's.

Daenerys supposed if she and her brothers were the Targaryen children of Jahaerys and Alysanne reborn again, there would have still been doubts of their parentage, regardless of any dragon born to them in the cradle, or not.

Daenerys also supposed that if Visenya Targaryen had to appear to court in her ashes and declare them legitimate, she would have been questioned. And oh, the poor soul who would dare to do so. Daenerys thought of the three Maesters slain by her son, upon their questioning of his right to rule from the Throne. Would they have rathered he hid in the shadows and rule as the Hightowers did, when her grandsire had turned old and frail, tended to by maesters of their own, sending no word of when he succumbed to death?

There was no word to describe what she felt.

Luke. Dead. Arrax. Dead. Grandsire. Dead. Visenya. Dead.

Dead, dead, dead... dropping like ashen leaves of a weirwood tree.

"I am only going for a... ride," the queen's confidence had slowly died upon her mouth as she noted the pitched black of her daughter's eyes. They were calculating, and cold, and predatory, assessing her the same way Rhaenyra assessed those she had yet to consider as enemy, or ally. A dragon anticipating a hunt.

"If you were, then you would be wearing riding leathers," she said coolly, a brow only raising as the darkness dimmed in her eyes. "But you are not." Then there was a slight tilt to her head, and oh, how Rhaenyra saw her own self in her daughter's stance.

Rhaenyra regained her composure, and stopped her fingers from caressing the cool silver of her rings, when her daughter continued to drawl.

"And while Syrax is so stubborn to have you come to her for a ride," she paused, the dragon trilling a song in the air at the mention of her own name, maw opening the slightest in what would have looked like a gum-filled smile of a child who had gained recognition for a silly act... save for the fact that from Syrax's gums, came came black sword-like teeth protruding straight into one another. "She has come to you."

"A farewell, then, perhaps," her voice was casual, and her shoulders were laxed, but Rhaenyra knew, if anything, her daughter's mind often contradicted what she showed on her body.

"But to where?"

Daenerys had then folded her arms over her chest, and lowered her chin and looked pointedly at her mother - as she did to Jace and Luke and Joffrey and Aegon and Viserys when they were caught mostly by her, trying and failing to do what only she could. (Silly things, Rhaenyra remembered, like stealing the marbled balls from the Council room of her father's... back in King's Landing, when they were so very young, and her father was hale as a horse.)

Rhaenyra shut her eyes and considered telling her daughter the truth, before she decided against it. The less that knew, the better... but that did not mean she would be any less honest to her daughter, who had a most unnerving ability to tell when someone was lying. (And mostly, in her youth, when those light eyes she seemed to get from Aemon Targaryen, if what Rhaenys said was true, would train themselves upon a person, it felt as if she was mostly seeing through them, not at them. It had unnerved Rhaenyra when little Di was a babe, but she slowly grew used to it, until she found herself hoping to hide a thing from someone... and then she would find those ghost eyes of her daughter set on her.)

"I cannot say," she said, swallowing indiscernably, "but I trust that you will keep the knowledge of my venturings to yourself -"

There was a slight smile on her daughter's lips, but it was so bare that Rhaenyra knew it could disappear as quick as a feather on the wind.

Her daughter only nodded, rolling her eyes as she, "So a fool's errand, then."

Rhaenyra pursed her lips, and flexed the hand to her side, breathing out and deciding, "Mayhaps we shall see... I will only know once this course has been taken and done with."

Daenerys did not look entirely convinced otherwise, but Rhaenyra trusted her daughter to keep her secret, as was the habit of theirs, protecting each other's, not as mother and daughter often did, but as something other. Like friends. Like sisters... if Rhaenyra was to have one that would be entirely hers, and not her father's or Alicent's or anyone else with whom she had to share with... then yes, that was what her daughter was to her... and Rhaenyra was never sorry for it. Neither was her daughter, who had only looked slightly annoyed, but accepting and trusting of what her mother had planned. Even if she didn't know the half of it.

Approaching her daughter, Rhaenyra took her cold hands and rubbed them warm, bringing her only daughter to look to her, now, a slight frown had made its way to her lips.

Rhaenyra hated seeing her daughter so displeased, and said, "I will be back before the week's end."

Daenerys's displeasure only grew, as she turned to look away from her mother, not entirely thrilled at whatever information her mother sought to hold from herself - from Jace. She knew once her mother's disappearance became known, he would be the most wroth of them all. And it would only be her who would have to deal with it (now that Luke... Rhaena, Joffrey, Aegon and Viserys were all gone.)

Rhaenyra pulled her daughter in for a tight hug, and Daenerys reciprocated, holding her arms tight round the stiff grey clothes of her mother, and laying her head on her chest. I hope you know what it is you are doing.

"Do not die," was all she said, and when Rhaenyra kissed her daughter on her forelock, Daenerys had pulled away the slightest, eyes larger than a full moon, and shining with worry for all the dangers that could possibly present themselves to her mother.

"Do not worry yourself," Rhaenyra said, smiling at her daughter as she caressed the side of her face. "I will not." And Daenerys seemed to relax in the slightest at that.

"Have Syrax take flight near wherever it is you are to go," Rhaenyra looked as if she were to consider contesting that advice, "or, as far as she can take flight without raising enemy alarms. If she should not do so, then I shall, though only she would know when your life is threatened."

Rhaenyra smiled at her daughter, holding her face in both hands now, and she said, "If this will ease your worry, then of course," and she kissed her daughter on the head, before turning to give Syrax a last look - the she-dragon crooned and shook her head as Daenerys would when she walked out from the sea, body soaking wet, eager to reach the warmer waters in her room...

Rhaenyra turned back to her daughter, and with one last touch of her palm on her cheek, she left.

Daenerys hadn't watched her mother walk away. She hadn't said any goodbyes... hadn't liked any of it, ever since both her fathers departed themselves from her life. (She remembers the many men she considered a father figure... let it be her own grabdsire, or the White Cloak Ser Harrold Westerling, who served her own mother from the time long before she was a babe. They were all either gone now, to the Stranger or Balerion or the Sea or the Roots of the earth, or so far from her that she could not hope to hear their breaths.)

Instead, the young princess looked on into the sapphire eyes of her mother's dragon, and only thought, 'You best protect her when the time calls for it,' which somehow managed to elicit a huff from the she-dragon, who stretched her wings and gave her one last look before she took flight.

No doubt, the dragon named after the Goddess of festivities and drink had seemed to say, 'As if I have not done that my entire life.'

And Daenerys smiled then, ever so slightly, the air around her cold, but the warmth in her palms providing some comfort to her.

[cerise-on-top]

I just saw your Graves with a tall reader, which I loved, so funny at times. So you know I gotta do it, can I request Graves with a short reader? Gotta boost that man's ego 💜

Glad to hear the Graves simps are enjoying my writing and want him to be doing well mentally! And I agree, sometimes you just need to make Graves happy since he, too, will notice your efforts and try to make you happy as well, even if he does it the Graves way!

Graves with a Shorter!Reader

Graves will have hit the jackpot with someone shorter than him in all honesty. As mentioned already, it’s in his blood to be bigger and stronger and scarier than his partner, which means he gets to protect them at all times. I can see him actually going for shorter people as well. While, if asked about it, he would always tell you that it’s because you have an easier time seeing just how reliable he is, in reality he just wants to feed his ego. He used to be taller than everyone else until he stopped growing, he really just wants to feel good about himself in all honesty. Every time he looks at you, he becomes aware of the height difference and sometimes the sly bastard even starts smiling about it. The bigger the height difference the better.

If he can literally tower over you, maybe trap you between him and the wall while he looks down at you, then all is good in his life. The shorter you are the better the angle at which you view him. He can toss his hair back and it will look as though he was in some series or movie with an attractive lead, in his eyes. Besides, he also gets to tilt your face so you’ll look at him when he’s talking. In all honesty, he genuinely believes he can fluster you more easily when he’s the taller one, and he genuinely just wants you to be speechless at least once in a while. Will sweet talk you while putting his fingers under your chin.

He’s also more prone to letting you be the big spoon, or lets you hold him more often in general. You being his backpack is funny to him, as mentioned before, so he will take his sweet time enjoying the feel of you being tiny. Again, if it was up to him, you’d be roughly 1,50, or something around that. That way there would, at the very least, still be 15cm between the two of you. Graves is a very touchy person in general, so don’t be surprised if he walks up to you and puts his head on top of yours, maybe even trying to put some weight of his on you as well so you can feel just how powerful he is. You’re more than welcome to try and shake him off, though. He will feign hurt, but it amuses him anyway.

Remember how I said Graves would be even more butthurt if you crack a few too many jokes about his height when you’re taller? He’d have his fun with someone who is sensitive about their height. You will constantly hear him refer to you as his little something, whether that be little sweetie, little honeypie or even his little pile of sugar. As long as he gets to emphasize you being the shorter one he’ll be happy. If you’re dysphoric about your height, then he’ll stop, but if you’re only mad because of a relatively harmless reason, you’ll never hear the end of it. Might even crack a joke such as pointing at a skittle on the ground and saying it’s almost as small as you are. The bigger your reaction, the better. Force him to sleep on the couch and he might stop for a day or two, but you can never get him to permanently stop.

Loves picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder. You can struggle all you want, this man can carry his own Shadows over his shoulder while they’re struggling, so you don’t really stand a chance against him. He gets all the more smug if you do struggle since he knows you won’t be able to escape him. It’s things like that where he wants to show you that he can easily overpower you, but he can easily protect you as well. Just be his lovely little partner, don’t grow too much and you have a loyal guy at your service until the end of eternity. Also, he will hold you over his head and comment on your cuteness. Graves doesn’t get cuteness aggression, but he could pretend he does and squish your cheeks whenever he feels like it.

Will pick you up and sit you down on his lap as well. Yes, he will wrap his arms around you as well and render any attempt at escaping futile. Besides, getting to hold you does reassure him quite a lot. His world is in his arms, safe and sound, and he gets to pretend he’s still a cool man. He genuinely believes you think him to be a badass, even with all the teasing and whatnot. Graves has a somewhat high opinion of himself on a good day, but you can still reassure him that he is pretty epic. You can comment on how strong he is and he’ll likely flex for you, offering you to touch his bicep. But at the end of the day, barely any of this matters, what’s important is that you wanna stay with him and feel like there’s a future ahead for you. Give him a kiss and tell him you admire him and he’ll be over the moon, regardless of whether you’re shorter or taller than him.

[leavemetoplaythesims]

another fantasy villain au edit because i like it

before:

[paintedscales]

Outfit Headcanons ♔ -  pajamas / bedtime outfit

Thanks to my partner, @blossomblade, for helping to adjust and red line my sketch before I committed to lines. u 3 u /

[lovedrunkheadcanons]

WARNINGS: Gojo Satoru x Female OC, tiny bit of smut, fingering, groping, Satoru being horny, fluff, cuteness, comfort, communication, established relationship, marriage, husband+wife, Maki defecting from the Zen'in family and being a badass.

SUMMARY: The timely story of how Zen'in Maki and Satoru's wife met.

Read on AO3

Prequel: Gojo Takes a Wife (also on AO3)

In life, a woman was instructed to follow three obediences; obedience to her father, her husband, and lastly, her son. Maki could recall from an early age when she and her sister were sat down and taught these obediences at their mother’s discretion. “They are to be your fate,” she would repeat. “A virtuous woman is subservient to all three. Without fail.”

Maki scoffed at the notion. Without fail. Even then she knew that to be a load of uncontrived, completely fabricated, bullshit. Why women viewed their own sex as inferior to men never made much sense to Maki. If anything, women were the smarter and level headed of the bunch. They didn’t muck around, drinking booze at inappropriate hours and chasing mini skirts all day. The privilege was free, but none less taken for granted.

Sometimes Maki thought the Zen’in blood was cursed. Her mother and father expected her to become a hallmark of good breeding. She bore the Zen’in name; one of the three Great Sorcerer Families; the bastion of the jujutsu world, holding great influence and power. But such powers were unattainable for women. And with no cursed technique, or cursed energy, Maki would either grow up to be an old maid, living at her male relatives every beck and call, or she’d be married off to some advantageous young suitor with the most money. She was to be a wife and mother. Those were her options.

Maki said no to all of it. She saw the shackled existence her mother had undergone and decided indentured servitude wasn’t for her. She would forge a different path. Her own path, not left to the discretion of pig-headed men like her uncle and chauvinistic cousins. The “failure of the Zen’in clan,” is what they called her, unable to see curses. Well, she’d prove each and every one of them wrong. She would become a great sorcerer, the leader of the Zen’in clan. By her own merit. Just you wait.

And so she departed with nothing but the clothes on her back, a few light items, and her pride, severing all familial ties, including that of her twin sister. Mai chose to stay behind. She chose them. So be it.

Now came the fallout. Maki was on her own for the first time in her fourteen years. With no money. No roof under her head. No game plan. No nothing.

Until she received an anonymous text on her phone (which she later learned was from Inumaki).

Seek Lady Gojo. There was also an address attached.

That’s it. That’s all it read.

Unsure who the sender was, she thought their advice somewhat aggravating. Maki hated asking for help and relations between the Zen’in and Gojo families were not exactly friendly. In fact, the two clans had been at war with each other, murdering and politicking, throughout various points in history. Maki had been told that a Gojo couldn’t be trusted. But then again, neither could a Zen’in.

The enemy of thy enemy was thy friend, so the saying went.

Following the home address on the text, Maki adjusted her glasses, boarded the nearest bus, and found herself waiting outside the Gojo family doorstep four hours later. It was a beautiful home, an old samurai house by the looks of it. Different from the pretentious Osaka style mansion the Zen'in’s dwelled under. Noble without being too overbearing, though it shouldn’t have come as a surprise. All sorcerer families' houses were large and impressive.

Taking a breath, she knocked on the entrance.

A housekeeper wearing a solid navy komon soon answered, introducing herself as Makoto. She bowed cordially with a contented smile and quickly ushered Maki inside, taking the few belongings she kept in a rucksack. The defected Zen’in was given time to take off her shoes and then escorted through the many mulberry-paneled chambers and hallways to a traditional tearoom boarded with ochre colored walls. Plum trees, their white petals falling from their branches, were painted all around them. Maki knelt on the tatami before a small table. A bouquet of dark red roses, freshly cut, added a flash of color to the ochre and plum blossoms. They were vased within a tokonoma, emitting a pleasant scent, calming her nerves. Not that she was nervous.

“My mistress will be with you shortly,” the housekeeper announced. “Shall I fetch you anything? Some refreshment, perhaps, or some sweets?”

“No thank you,” Maki said.

“Very well.” The housekeeper bowed once more and went about her daily business, sliding the fusuma doors behind her.

To be honest, she didn’t know what to expect of this Lady Gojo. She had never seen or met her in person before. Being too young, Maki wasn’t allowed to attend official meetings and ceremonies. Although she knew Gojo Satoru hadn’t been married for very long, but why would his wife want to help?

Maki bit her lower lip. She absolutely loathed this.

A few minutes later, the doors parted and in came an elegantly dressed woman wearing kimono embroidered with red and purple irises. She was more petite than Maki imagined, delicate and serene, her shiny auburn hair crowned in layers of braids. Maki saw the light dusting of freckles around her pale complexion and hazel colored eyes, features practically unheard of in Japan. Lady Gojo was foreign. European by the looks of it, though she wasn’t sure where. Maki found herself weirdly conscientious of her plain white kosode and worn out hakama. They were the only clothes she had at the moment.

“A thousand apologies for being so late,” Lady Gojo began, smile radiant. Her voice held a light, ringing sound to it like crystal bowls. “I had just finished weeding and didn’t want to come in looking a mess.” There was no accent when she spoke either, as though the woman had lived in Japan her whole life. She briskly walked over to Maki and knelt down at the opposite side of the table, smoothing the fabric of her kimono. “I’m Gojo Hannah, co-tenet of the estate. My housekeeper says you wish to see me?”

Maki kept things discreet. She told of the hardship she faced growing up in a hostile family, her lack of cursed energy, storming out of the Zen’in house, which led to the separation of her sister. Hannah did not interrupt, nodding and listening to her life story attentively.

“So you have nowhere else to go?”

“No,” Maki said. “My plan was to take a train to Tokyo and find a capsule hotel somewh — ”

“That won’t be necessary,” Hannah quickly interrupted, raising her hand. “You’ll be staying here until we can get you properly sorted.”

Maki paused, as though she hadn’t heard the woman correctly. She blinked once. Blinked twice.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“Please, I insist.”

“I’d hate to intrude.”

Lady Gojo shook her head. “Intruding would imply you were staying uninvited, which, as of now, is not the case. Plus, you are only fourteen, Maki. It would be highly irresponsible to let a minor out on their own without adult supervision. I wouldn’t forgive myself if something happened. You came here asking for help,” she smiled warmly, “Let help be given.”

Maki was still skeptic of the offer. Help was rare to come by in the jujutsu world. It was either eat, or be eaten, and the last thing she wanted was to become some random lady’s charity case.

“What would your husband say?”

Hannah waved her off like it was no trouble. “Oh, you let me handle him. He’s away right now, but I’m sure he’ll understand once he gets back.” She then lifted a small, hand-held bell near the legs of the table, shaking it daintily three times. Not two minutes later, the housekeeper from earlier appeared bowing gratuitously to her mistress.

“You rang for me, ma’am?”

“Makoto-san,” Hannah smiled, gesturing to the Zen’in girl. “Maki will be staying with us tonight as our honored guest. Would you see about preparing her a room and a warm bath?”

“Will the Mokuren Room do, ma’am?”

Her ladyship nodded. “Yes, the Mokuren Room will do splendidly. Thank you.” She quickly rose from the floor and turned to Maki. “I hate to dash out, but I have somewhere to be. Makoto-san will see to it that you are comfortable. Dinner will be ready at six, so just listen for the gong,” she switched from Japanese to English, “Goodbye now.”

Lady Gojo exited out the ochre walled tearoom, kimono swishing silkily down the hallway as she headed for her next destination. She left in such a hurry, Maki never got to say thank you. Once more the housekeeper, Makoto, guided her through the many rooms and corridors of the samurai house till they entered a suite panoramaed in magnolias and gold leaf. Maki saw that her rucksack sat against the wall next to a flush futon. “Your bath will be ready shortly,” Makoto said cheerfully and pointed to a stack of clothes folded in the corner. “The mistress has also provided you with some clean clothes.” Maki nodded in thanks and waited for the housekeeper to leave before letting her guard down.

She could rest easy for a while.

Satoru returned home that night after supper, a day earlier than originally planned. Hannah wasted little time relaying to him what had happened. It was 11 o’clock. They were just about to retire for bed.

“Did her sister tag along, by chance?”

Hannah watched her husband lean against the wall, taking in the full moon shining above the mountain tops and Japanese pines. They had switched to sleeping in her room for the night and had opened one side of panels to let the summer breeze flow in. Hannah was content admiring him there, relaxed in nothing but a pair of grey sweatpants, arms crossed, hair drying from a hot shower. She liked it when the moonlight reflected off his muscles and sculpted chest. He had such good skin.

“I don’t believe so,” she answered with a weary sigh and came to join him overlooking the moon and pines. “You’re not mad about this are you? I promise she won’t stay long. Just until we can guarantee her safety.”

Satoru draped a bare arm over his wife. “No, I’m not mad. You did the right thing. Naobito is a drunken fool. Letting her go was a big mistake.”

“Really, how come?”

“I’ve seen the way she fights. It’s only a hunch, but I think the reason Maki has low cursed energy is because she possesses Heavenly Restriction, a practically unheard of cursed ability that exchanges low cursed energy for physical strength.”

Hannah blinked. “That’s…rather remarkable. I didn’t know such a thing existed. Are you sure that’s what she has?”

“Oh, I’m sure,” Satoru said darkly. He lifted a finger over his forehead as though feeling for a scar, an old inflicted wound that had long since healed. “Trust me.”

Hannah didn’t know what to make of it, only that the situation made her angry. “And they just let her go off alone? A fourteen year old girl from an important family? What if she had been abducted by some mad lunatic, or assassinated for ransom?”

Satoru clicked his tongue, holding back his contempt. “I told you, the Zen’in’s aren’t exactly the sharpest tools in the shed. Still, to think they couldn’t see the obvious staring them blue in the face. Kind of fucked up when you think about it.”

Hannah’s anger cooled into sadness, leaning more on her husband for support. She breathed in the smell of his body wash and kissed the skin. “I feel for her. Part of me knows what she’s going through; forced to abandon everything you’ve ever known in the wake of an uncertain future.

“Eh, I dunno.” Her husband winked with a knowing smirk. “Seemed to have worked out well for you.”

“No.” Hannah giggled and hugged his torso, resting her chin on his bare chest so she could stare up into his heavenly blue eyes. “Worked out well for us,” she corrected.

“Ha, yes, silly me,” he chuckled, rolling his eyes, “For us,” and lovingly caressed her face in both hands to bend down and bring his lips gently to hers. “Speaking of which,” he added huskily, breaking away. Hannah caught the mischievous glint in his eyes, the kind he gave when he was about to do something naughty. She watched him walk over and, one by one, slid the wall panels shut, closing them off from the outside world. The drop in his voice made her heart skip. “Turn around.”

Hannah was wearing one of his black cotton tees. It was way too large for her, closely resembling that of a nightgown. All she had underneath was a skimpy pair of lace panties.

Just how he liked it.

Obediently, Hannah turned around. A cold shiver ran down her spine as his heated mouth began trailing supplicant, little kisses along her collarbone, shifting the shirt to one side to expose more of her freckled skin, minus the gold chain hanging there. Her nipples went hard from the budding anticipation and like a magic trick, Satoru's hand reached down and disappeared underneath his borrowed shirt. A gasp of pleasure left Hannah’s lips as he took his sweet, sweet time kneading her breasts, rimming the tender nipples with calloused thumbs in slow, circular motions. Her knees buckled.

Ever the multitasker, Satoru commenced to fondling one breast, while his newly empty hand wandered farther south, past the middle of her navel, her hips, brushing back the tawny bed of curls. Then he heard Hannah whimper, arching for him like a nimble cat, when he slipped two long fingers inside her panties, teasing the aroused flesh throbbing between her thighs, plunging them smoothly in and out, in and out.

She responded beautifully, rutting against him, crying out his name as she pressed the back of her head to his chest, begging for more. Satoru chuckled at how erotic she looked for him now, feeling his sweatpants gradually become two sizes too small, knowing he was about to get laid as he ravished his wife’s neck and shoulders in sloppy-tongued kisses, enjoying the full weight of her titties, and his wetted fingers curling and smarting inside her pussy. Man, it felt good to be home.

Really, really good.

Next morning, Maki knelt at the Gojo’s breakfast table, filled with enough food to feed a small army, like she were sitting at an all-you-can-eat buffet and not someone’s home. Makoto started them off with miso soup, sticky rice, steamed vegetables, then introduced saba no shioyaki, salted grilled salmon, and savory Japanese omelet rolls called dashimaki tamago. At the risk of losing her “feminine” physique, Maki hadn’t been allowed to indulge in these foods, but apparently diet restrictions weren’t a concern here. Makoto’s cooking could give the cooks at the Zen’in house a run for their money. Frankly, it was the best meal she ever had.

“Please eat as much as you like,” Hannah encouraged.

Maki intended to, but her meal was cut short when she glanced up from her plate to see possibly the most strikingly handsome dude walk through the door.

She sucked in a breath.

He was quite tall, well above 180 centimeters, and strongly built without appearing too muscular, and shockingly young. His youthful eyes were a penetrating cerulean, the kind that could peer directly into a soul and uncover all its sins, so bright and blue they looked almost artificial like the glow of a neon sign. Were these the fabled Six Eyes everyone talked about, she wondered? The world’s strongest sorcerer was standing before her.

She watched him run a hand over his shaggy hair, white as snow, and yawn widely.

“Ah, there you are,” Hannah greeted happily. “Good morning.”

The Six Eyes landed on the wife, twinkling like two blue stars. A smirk stretched its way up the corners of the handsome man’s mouth. “Good morning,” he rumbled suavely, voice deepened from sleep, bending all the way down to tilt his wife’s chin up for his normal, pre-breakfast kiss.

It held for four seconds. Five seconds. Six. Seven?

Maki’s cheeks unexpectedly grew warm and she felt the need to look away, embarrassed, stuffing as much rice in her mouth as she possibly could. It’s like she wasn’t even there. Showing public affection in front of a house guest was not typical behavior for sorcerer families, or really any Japanese family. Even hugs were a rarity amongst close friends. Maki’s own parents never kissed, held hands, or took turns stealing amorous glances from across dinner tables. Marriage was strictly a duty required to produce offspring. And that’s when it occurred to her.

This was what a loving marriage looked like. These two people loved each other. Possibly even liked each other. It was so bazaar to see it play outside of a romance novel or movie screen.

Satoru slowly broke from the kiss, licking his lips. “Mmm, mangos. Very nice.” He was referring to the fruit his wife was in the middle of eating. Hannah’s own cheeks blushed a rosy pink as she playfully swatted him away.

“You’re horrible,” she admonished, though her small smile told Maki she wasn’t really all that upset.

He laughed, the least apologetic for the gross amount of PDA, and knelt beside the table to pour himself a fresh cup of coffee. Maki froze when those glacial blue eyes raised and fixed themselves upon her, curiously looking up and down. She swallowed her food, keeping quiet. They both stared at each other wordlessly.

Wanting to address the elephant in the room, Hannah put down her eating utensils and cleared her throat. “Maki, this here is my husband, Gojo Satoru,” she turned to her husband, “Satoru, this is our guest, Zen’in Maki.”

The Gojo leader gave a mock salute.

“Yo. Hannah tells me you’ve found yourself in a bit of a pickle,” he placed his coffee on the coaster and frowned, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

A pickle. Was this dude a moron? What clan leader talked that casually in front of guests? A part of her wondered if it was some kind of test.

“Yeah,” she replied, deciding on honesty rather than politeness because she had lost the strength to care. “My family are a bunch of assholes.”

“Assholes?” Satoru snickered and nudged his wife with his elbow. “Hey, this one’s feisty. I like her.”

Hannah rolled her eyes at her husband's antics. “Satoru and I were busy talking last night,” she said. Maki noticed Satoru snort into his coffee mug to mask a laugh. “And we think we may have a solution to the problem — that is, if you’re interested. We wouldn’t want to pressure you into anything, but I remember you mentioning yesterday how the Zen’in’s traditionally attend the Kyoto Technical College. Is that correct?”

Maki’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, why do you ask?”

“Well, that’s just the thing,” Hannah said. “Instead of attending the Kyoto school, how would you feel about attending the Tokyo branch next year?”

Now Maki was on red alert. No way were they seriously asking her this without wanting something in return. “What’s the catch?” But Hannah shook her head.

“There is no catch. You would live in the Tokyo dorms for the next few months, and begin your freshman year in April like all the others. The school would cover any boarding expenses you may accumulate, including food and training facility access.”

A tempting offer, but Maki was still unsure. “I haven’t finished eighth grade,” she said.

“East Takao Elementary isn’t far from here and summer break hasn’t ended. We would enroll you there for your last semester. You might not make many friends, but you’d at least be able to graduate on time.”

Maki mentally scoffed. It was a sweet sentiment, but she didn’t need friends. Friends were liabilities there to hold you down, although she was curious. “Why would you want me to attend if I can’t even see curses?”

Satoru thought this was his moment to intervene. He had been listening to Hannah explain, lightly rapping his knuckles on the table, pretending to be bored, but felt the question needed to be said.

“You want to be a sorcerer, don’t you?”

Maki held the Six Eyes wielder’s imposing gaze, and her mind instantly went back to her sister. The promise she made so many years ago, that she would stay by her side forever. Her heart panged with resentment and perhaps guilt.

“More than anything.”

“Then that’s it,” Satoru said. “There doesn’t have to be another reason. Don’t listen to the crap your family has told you. What you’re born with, or without, doesn’t matter one iota. Hard work and perseverance will always be better indicators of success than ‘natural born talent’ and ‘giftedness.” It all depends on how desperate you are to want it.”

Hannah rested the cup of tea she was drinking in her lap. “The choice is yours, Maki. Whatever you decide, you’ll receive no judgment from us.”

Judgment, Maki thought. The operative word. She had been nothing but judged from the second she was born, whether it was her sex; Her un-lady-like behavior; Her lack of cursed energy. It was never enough to quell the critics regardless of what she did. “The failure,” they called her. Well no more. The page had turned. A new chapter in her life had begun and she would fight tooth and nail to stick around and beat the odds.

“I’ll do it,” she said proudly. “I’ll attend Jujutsu High.”

The Six Eyes wielder threw up his hands and turned to face his wife, looking a tad smug. “See? What I’d tell ya?”

“Yes, you were right,” Hannah relented, sighing at her husband’s giddiness. He wore a big cheddar grin as he crossed his arms in triumph, singing “ ~ I was right, I was right. My wife was wrong, but I was right. Ha-haha-haha-ha ~ ”

Hannah rolled her eyes once more. “Ignore him,” she whispered, leaning in Maki’s ear.

The defected Zen’in looked down at her untouched bowl of miso soup, husband and wife inadvertently flirting with each other in the background.

A new chapter.

Maybe asking for help every once in a while wasn’t the worst idea imaginable.

[gritsandbrits]

Shrek is woke because every main villain was a white person in a position of power who weaponized the status quo or tried to erase marginalized groups in some way.

[midmorninggrey]

Mags is real excited about whatever's waiting in that cave.

Loran is not.

[maddy-ferguson]

controversial opinion but i dont think the duffers set up byler well, lets be real most of the fandom outside of our echo chamber doesn't think byler is going to become canon. and like idk but i agree that they should have at least broken up mlvn and resolved the monologue issue (preferably not include it even) if they were going for the byler route. same for will's importance or even mike's importance for the plot. removing them from the show's main narrative doesn't make a good case for their importance in the story in the penultimate, esp when they received minimum screentime in this season. it's not the audience's fault to think mlvn is endgame or will or mike are unimportant when the way they've been handled were lackluster and when cali plot.... Was Like That. plus they gave it all to el's character lol. ofc ppl gonna think she's the protagonist when she was the one who opened the gate and created vecna and when mike spends the entire season talking about her. redpill but it's not making much sense here when the narrative is criticized in the byler fandom, acting like the writers did a perfect job in terms of setup is just being wilfully blind atp.

i think people not expecting it is the point though. like yeah it's obvious because when they did the same thing on a smaller scale with nancy's love triangle at the end of season 1 (her spending most of the season with jonathan them bonding and her and steve fighting but then still being together in the epilogue) most people could see that jonathan and nancy were gonna be together and not one person was called delusional for thinking that. but i really think the juxtaposition is the point, it's a queer couple so even with a similar storyline people don't expect it because of heteronormativity etc which is kind of depressing but it's also what's gonna make it happening even better...#imho

for the monologue, obviously i don't ENJOY IT but i don't hate it because i think it's interesting for el? whether you think she believed him or not, whether or not you think she was gonna break up with him at sbp, i think having him tell her he loves her makes it so no one can be like "but if mike had said he loved her everything would've been fine!" i like them going all the way in that sense. i think it's good for us as an audience to have that, this way there's no what ifs. it makes it apparent that their relationship couldn't be fixed by mike saying i love you and also that their fight in lenora wasn't only about mike and about their relationship, like mike never thought she was a monster that was all el, and him telling her that she's not a monster won't fix that internal struggle for her. and it also won't help her grow beyond the monster/superhero dichotomy.

i don't like will and mike being away from the supernatural plot either but yk i do think it's because they're important for the resolution of that storyline and that that's also supposed to come as a surprise. for mike well i don't actually know that he is, but i certainly know will is and i think they did set that up pretty well. he's not in episode 7 but they reveal that the upside down is frozen on the day he disappeared, he's in hawkins for five minutes but the season ends with him talking about his connection to vecna and everyone and their mother is reminded of the fact that will is a vital part of the supernatural plot. people don't necessarily think he's gonna be the key to resolving the upside down and vecna thing for good (no matter what that looks like, i'm expecting it to be both el and will because it kind of is the el show + we'll fix it together + lucas and erica (siblings) being the mvps of the basketball game and the dnd game that has a lot of foreshadowing in episode 1 etc) because el's the one who's always done it pretty much by herself...but it's also never worked. not for long anyway. i would say that like byler (but not as shocking because it's not someone assumed to be straight turning out to be gay) it's supposed to make people go oh why have i never thought of that of course will would be an integral part of the ud resolution this makes so much sense!!! when it happens. and characters also always expect el to be the one to fix it just like they don't expect byler to happen. meta.

and again i don't LOVE mike and will's thing being the conversational roadtrip only in season 4, but i get why they did it like i see the vision. i see where you're coming from and i agree that most people not seeing byler coming isn't necessarily their fault (even though i said it's similar to nancy's s1 triangle and everyone expected it then. nancy never gave steve an i love you i've loved you forever i'll love you forever speech, major difference), i really think it's NOT supposed to be that obvious. even though it is kind of. i get wishing they had broken up mlvn in volume 2 and i certainly would've liked not having to see bylers be called delusional 24/7 but i think mlvn breaking up would've made byler endgame wayy too obvious and if they wanted it to be obvious to the girls that get it only i think they've accomplished that. same with will and the supernatural plot. and everyone is free to not like it still, i just don't think that means the set up isn't good.

very last paragraph. i don't think everything they've ever written is perfect. i don't even think every decision that's been made by the st team regarding WILL's queerness is perfect like (this is another conversation) having noah deny the gay allegations on will's behalf a month before having him say oh yeah he is gay it's obvious is crazy to me it's no surprise that people feel like it's an afterthought and like byler is never gonna happen. even though i obviously disagree with them. fin.

[robotsandramblings]

i fucking LOVE y'all's star wars oc's, esp the amazing and beautiful nonhumans,, so when i watch new star wars shows and the main & background characters are like 98% humans it's kinda frustrating like??? there are SO MANY wonderful sw alien designs out there and SO MUCH room for creativity but oooohhhh nnnooooooo another plain ol human being coming RIGHT UP 😒🥱

[kaijusplotch]

So yeah had a depressive episode last night before bed, and my dreams were filled with Shiv Wolffe and Plo. And Mainly Wolffe and Plo in a kinda modern au kinda not, taking her to buy a whole bunch of shit from Wolffe's clan (he was very Scottish and so was Plo so roll with it) to formally adopt her into their family.

Kinda moved around to more Plo finding things for Wolffe and shiv to have as a history. Including buying Wolffe a claymore...and shiv a lot of knives and then also a cute sweater and a camera and leather bound journal.

<3

[littledigits]

doodles of complaining pirates. big eyebrows belongs to me, big ears belongs to @immortanjill

[shinmiyovvi]

Wip of my CIA babi Estrellita

[cuteniaarts]

What if… Suiren in Vaatu’s colours 😳👀

[hylianane]

i really dont like using my blog to vent or complain cause idk thats not what social media is about to me its just a space to be silly about the things i like. that being said. im just gonna do a mini vent in the tags abt smth that isnt even half as serious as im making it sound

[muckyschmuck]

Hi! Sorry if this sounds weird but seeing you post so much art of your sona and Eliyah has genuinely given me the like, confidence to draw my own sona and oc's interacting :). So thank you for that! Unrelated to that but how do you draw poses and expressions for your characters is just really good, I love it. I hope you have a great day!

oh my goshing goodness it doesn’t sound weird at all and even if it did it would be Good Weird (like the kind of Good Weird drawing ur sona interacting w ur ocs is) this makes me so :))))) and :333333 thank YOU seriously Heart Hands