#[ thank u for this.. i love this thought ]

[hinamie]

Another blog noticed that Megumis scars are on the same position as Heian!Sukuna. And it's true! By that logic he should have scars under his armpits and on his belly (second arms and second mouth). You drawing it would be interesting

shoutout 2 megumi for making up fr all of yuuji's scars i no longer get to draw

[deeenjoyer]

put those big brown eyes AWAY

[6okuto]

🧺 #1 “please? i can’t sleep without you.” with osamu for @etoiile from my fruits basket :D

warning: fem!reader is called "princess" once

“yer still down here?”

osamu’s groggy voice jolts you from a daze. it’s past midnight, you’re sure as you turn to look at him standing at the bottom of the stairs. despite the drowsiness kicking in, you try to shoot him a smile. “sorry, samu. i’m almost done, i promise.”

he hums and makes his way to your desk, grey slippers that match your own padding against the wooden tiles. you note the pitch black he walked through to get to the study. “do i haveta stop you from overworkin’ again?”

“i’m not overworking.”

“sweetheart,” he warns with a sickeningly sweet mumble to your temple—one you hate, one he always uses when you’re at your weakest and he knows his win is inevitable—followed close by arms wrapping around your middle. 

“i’m not, i’m just–” you huff defiantly anyway, but the black size 12 letters start to bleed and blur on your screen, and you have to rub your eyes before looking at him. “i’ll be in bed soon.”

“soon as in now?”

“samu.”

“hon.”

his fingers make a slow path beneath your shirt, a gentle hand landing on your stomach. he takes a deep breath, and warm air fans across your skin as he mumbles again, “please? i can’t sleep without ya.”

the text cursor blinks at you—faster than your own have been for the past 5 minutes—as he wets his lips and presses against you.

“...damn you, osamu miya.”

osamu’s act falls as fast as it came, his pout morphing into a smirk as he chuckles and nips at your neck. “is that how you wanna talk t’your sleepy, doting husband?”

“oh shut up, i’ll go brush my teeth.”

“yeah?” he tilts his head and smirks. “need me to carry ya, my tired princess?”

“no, i do not, thank you.” you roll your eyes as you turn off the monitor and stand up.

“m’kay, i’ll still come with you.”

you snort, trying and failing to suppress a smile, “wow, so needy tonight.”

“needy?” he pinches your cheek as you turn off the monitor and stand up (and breathes a laugh when you whine his name). “more like i need t’make sure y’don’t fall asleep at the counter.”

“oh come on, that happened once—”

“yeah, and i’m making sure it won’t happen a second time. because i love you,” he both teases and reminds you, the sparkle in his eyes half amusement, half worry and affection.

so you lean against him, let an arm wrap around your shoulder and lips kiss your forehead, with little to say but “i love you too.”

you’re sure the work can be done another day.

[deweyduck]

@pscentral​​ event 25: seasons

↳ HAPPY 65TH BIRTHDAY BARBIE! 💖 (9 March, 1959)

"Positive attitude changes everything."

insp.

[itscherryterry-again]

yea

[zuzu-draws]

So after the spoilers for Chap 257 dropped, I saw some tweets clarifying the meaning of the Kanji Sukuna used in the chapter when referring to his mother, and the overall reveals in the chapter got me thinking.

I’m making this post as a way of gathering my thoughts, personal speculations and where I think all of this connects to Sukuna’s character and the information Gege has given us over the years. Nothing I say is by any means new information, but like I said, I’m just collecting my thoughts here. By the way, just a warning, this post contains SPOILERS for the JJK Manga! If you don’t like that, please don’t read this!

Something I’ve noticed is that the theme of “Hunger” and symbolism of “Cooking/Food” is heavily referenced with Sukuna throughout the Manga. Gege in a previous Fanbook has disclosed Sukuna’s favorite Hobby to be “Eating”.

This theme is again very much ingrained within Sukuna’s cursed techniques and even his Domain Expansion, the “Malevolent Shrine”. With his two main techniques being “Dismantle” and “Cleave” are cutting-type attacks. He is also able to use a Flame-Arrow, and Fire is essential for making Food. The Shrine in his Domain Expansion literally has mouths on all sides, looking eager to chew down anything in-front of them!

This symbolism also heavily influences Sukuna’s own manner of speech, and the way he speaks to other characters in the series as well. With his post-fight chat with Jogo before his death, Sukuna mentions Jogo lacking the “Hunger” to take control of his desires, preventing him from reaching the heights of Gojo Satoru. Before the Start of their fight in Shinjuku, Sukuna called Gojo a “Nameless Fish on top of his cutting board”, and that he was going to start by “Peeling off the scales”(refering to Gojo’s infinity). There’s also further symbolism that supports this by analyzing the Kanji and meaning of Sukuna’s “Malevolent Shrine” but I’m not very educated on that so I won’t be opening that point here.

What all of this points to is that Eating and Food……is extremely important to Sukuna, to the point that it literally affects him in manners innumerable.

Eating is an instinct, a necessity for the survival of every single living being.

And In the face of extreme Hunger and starvation, even those with the strongest will could lose their Humanity and revert to the basic animalistic side of their existence. (The Heian Period also had a Famine, although I believe the timing to be a bit off, but do with this info as you see fit)

In JJK Chapter 257, it is revealed to us that Sukuna and his Twin were most likely starving in the womb of their starving mother.

On the brink of starvation, Sukuna had to consume his “other self”(his twin), so that he could survive.

Btw, this tweet and this thread gives additional characterisation to Sukuna:

Link to the original thread: Link.

More context (and reactions :P):

Link to original thread: Here

This reveals to us that indeed, Sukuna was born a twin. And as we all know, “Twins” are seen with extreme scrutiny in Jujutsu Society, they’re not well liked. This too in a period where Cursed Spirits and Jujutsu Sorcery was at its peak, it is not far-fetched to assume that his Mother may not have been treated very well by the people in her surroundings, especially as she bore twins.

When Kashimo asks if Sukuna was born the Strongest or if he made himself the Strongest, this is the response Sukuna gave to him:

When you think about it, how do you think the people around them would have reacted when the woman: who was supposed to birth two twins, gave birth to a single child instead? and that child had consumed his other twin in the womb itself?

No doubt people would’ve been horrified, disgusted and even revulsed. With the woman and her newborn child.

This would’ve led to their further ostracisation in the already very close-minded society. Unable to fend for herself and her newborn child, it must’ve been difficult for Sukuna’s mother to survive. I feel like somewhere along the line, Sukuna was left alone to fend for himself at an extremely young age. To protect himself from both Curses and Society alike.

This is why I believe Sukuna knows what true starvation, weakness and hunger feels like. Both in the emotional and literal sense. He was left without another person caring about him or his well-being, in a cut-throat period where it was “Fight or be killed”.

Powerful curses roamed all across Japan, nowhere was safe. Simply be strong, or you'll die. There's no room for weakness. And initially, a kid!Sukuna was weak, as anyone would be in the beginning when they're just starting out in this world. (and maybe, he didn't have much to eat, leading to long periods of starvation? :') )

I believe it is this debilitating hunger, and feeling of weakness that eventually led to Sukuna’s current Hedonistic mindset.

He’s essentially traumatised by it, and believes that it was his own weakness that led him to experience this sheer starvation. That he deserved to feel this way because he was weak then. Perhaps, the people around him were right, that as long as they have the power and strength to overcome anything, they’re free to do as they please; And there is nothing anyone else could do about it.

I feel like the irony here is that Sukuna himself, must’ve been a “weakling” before eventually rising the ranks to become History’s Strongest Sorcerer. This is also why he values Strength so much.

Ultimately, Sukuna has decided that there was nothing more important than being strong enough to fulfill your own desires. And “eating” is one of his most important desires. It’s his favourite thing to do, the one he derives the most pleasure out of. And like an animal, whose main focus is to consume, consume and consume. He too, simply consumes.

Most morals likely have no meaning to him. He doesn’t care who he hurts, what he does, as long as he’s able to get what he wants. And this isn’t limited to eating.

This is why people referring to Sukuna as a “Natural Disaster” is so befitting of him. Because Natural Disasters also don’t care about what or who they’re destroying, they just come and go, wreaking havoc appropriate for their nature and magnitude.

I believe Sukuna himself has said lines similar in nature, when talking to Kashimo:

Now I’m not sure how Sukuna perceives or even experiences this “Love”, because I think he has a rather very warped idea of it. I do think that this definition of love is similar to the one that Gojo also understands, but I don’t think he knows what “love” truly is. I’m not sure how I could comment on this, but I do think that Sukuna’s emotionally starved, whether he realises that or not.

Because, like Kashimo himself asked Sukuna “What is the point of dividing your soul into 20 different parts and then traversing across time if you’re satisfied with this?” we do not know the answer to that yet.

But many people have speculated that “Black Box” panels in JJK manga represent a curse (either self-inflicted or put by someone) on the speaker. Like, take a look over here where Sukuna reiterates the same dialogue, except it looks like he’s trying to reassure himself:

This once again shows that Sukuna has only ever strived for himself, in the same hedonistic fashion, to a very very extreme degree. It is possible that he's been lacking something, and he himself does not realise that he’s lacking it. Maybe it was this subconscious feeling, that led to Sukuna agreeing to Kenjaku’s plan of dividing his soul into 20 different parts, and to traverse across time as a Cursed Object.

Sukuna’s an incredibly complex character, and I’m excited to see where this goes. Gege has put extra care in the way he characterizes and depicts Sukuna, and again, I’m really sad that a lot of that characterization gets lost in translation. Still, I’m going to try my best to understand and get the most accurate feel of his character as I possibly can.

If you made it this far, Thank you for reading! And if you would like, please do leave a comment in the tags or replies because I would love to read what other people think of this and just Sukuna in general. I do not see a lot of people doing critical analysis of him, and a lot of his actions are seemingly swept under the rug. I don’t like that, so hopefully this contributes to people focusing more on Sukuna and his character. (/^v^)/ <3

[capquinn]

All your dad! Quinn works are absolutely perfect and adorable 🥹🥹 I can’t stop smiling and blushing thinking about all these scenarios you’re writing!!

I would love more dad pieces if you want to take on Quinn with a newborn during the season and he’s somehow effortlessly balancing the team responsibilities and being such a supportive and helping husband/bf with this next big chapter in life becoming parents!! 💙

Since his daughter was born, Quinn has been balancing life as team captain and new father with quiet commitment. Morning practices lead into nights spent rocking her to sleep, and he moves between both worlds with a steady, natural ease.

Every morning starts the same way, often before the sun has even risen, with the soft cry of his daughter stirring him awake. It’s a sound he’s learned to recognise instantly, one that pulls him from sleep without a second thought. Almost automatically, Quinn shifts in bed, reaching out to gently touch your side to silently tell you he’s up before slipping out from under the covers.

The bassinet sits close by, tucked into the corner of your shared room, and he moves towards it quietly, careful not to make too much noise. With a practiced gentleness, he scoops her up, cradling her tiny body against his chest. She fusses for a moment, little hands reaching out, but Quinn has grown accustomed to her needs, the small patterns that calm her.

He begins to sway slowly, his hand moving in soft, rhythmic circles across her back, his voice barely a whisper as he murmurs, “Shh… Daddy’s here. You’re alright.”

In these early morning hours, he feels the weight of fatherhood settle around him. There’s something about these moments, the stillness of the room, the soft hum of the early dawn, that prepares him for the day ahead. It’s not just his responsibility; it’s his privilege, a role he’s embraced completely.

When he hears you stir, sometimes catching you watching him from the bed, he’ll glance over, offering a soft smile, one that says he’s got this, that you can rest a little longer.

Later, as the day begins, Quinn makes a point to carve out time just for the three of you, finding moments of calm amid the morning routine. You settle on the sofa together, coffee in hand, your legs stretched out over his lap, while he cradles your daughter in one arm, his other hand absently tracing soft patterns over your leg. His touch is tender, his fingers moving in slow, familiar circles as he watches his daughter doze, her tiny hand curled around his thumb.

Every now and then, he glances at you, his gaze soft, as if savouring these few minutes of quiet family time before he needs to head out.

“It’s wild how much I miss this when I’m gone,” he murmurs, eyes lingering on her peaceful face, a hint of awe in his voice.

His fingers keep moving over your leg, each touch a quiet reminder of his presence, of his love for this small world you’ve created together.

And when it’s time to head out, he leans in close, brushing his lips softly against your forehead as you linger in the kitchen, then kisses the back of his daughter’s tiny hand, holding onto the warmth of home to carry with him into the day ahead.

After games, no matter how late or how worn out he is, Quinn’s first thought when he gets home is you. He steps through the door, eyes scanning the room, immediately looking for ways he can pick up where you left off. If he sees a pile of dishes in the sink, he rolls up his sleeves and quietly starts rinsing them, his movements calm and methodical, wanting to ease your load without disrupting the peace of the evening.

He’ll take over without a word if your daughter stirs, lifting her from the bassinet with a practiced gentleness. Even on nights when exhaustion is etched into his face, he holds her close, rocking her back and forth, whispering softly until she settles. Sometimes, he’ll glance over at you and give you a tired but reassuring smile, quietly telling you to rest while he handles it.

If he notices the little signs that you’ve had a long day too — a few things out of place, a half-empty cup of cold tea — he’ll gently steer you toward the sofa or the bedroom, encouraging you to take a moment for yourself.

“Go relax, get some rest,” he’ll say softly, a hand on your shoulder. “I’ll finish up here.”

There’s a steady dedication in his tone, a quiet promise that even in his most tired moments, he’s here to make things easier for you both.

And when he finally settles down beside you, it’s with a content sigh, an arm slipping around your shoulders as he pulls you close. These small, thoughtful gestures aren’t anything grand, but they add up, each one a reminder that he’s as much a partner as he is a father, fully present and endlessly devoted.

When Quinn is away, he settles into a familiar routine, making time every day to call, fitting in quick video chats and messages between team meetings and practices. Each call follows a comforting rhythm: he’ll ask about how you’re doing, listen to every little detail about his daughter, then share a bit about his own day, just to keep you both close, even from a distance. He’s always careful to call in the evenings too, timing it so he can catch her right before bedtime, watching on the screen as you rock her to sleep, his voice soft as he murmurs, “Goodnight, Bug. Love you,” knowing she can’t understand the words yet but hoping, somehow, she feels them.

But that routine didn’t come naturally at first. He remembers that first road trip, only a few weeks after she was born, and the way he’d delayed packing his bags, lingering at home as long as he could. He’d held her close that night, pressing a soft kiss to her head as he whispered, “I’ve gotta go to work for a little bit but I’ll be back soon,” his voice thick with the weight of those words. He felt the quiet ache of missing her even before he left, and though he tried to hide it, he’d caught your eyes welling up too, both of you navigating the bittersweet moment. Not quite ready for your tiny bubble to burst just yet.

From that trip onward, little rituals began to form, small gestures to bridge the distance. The night before each trip, Quinn spends extra time with her, rocking her a little longer, talking to her in a low, steady voice as if building a memory they can both hold onto. And when he leaves in the early morning hours, he always pauses at her bassinet, taking a quiet moment to brush his fingers over her tiny hand, his heart heavy with both pride and longing.

“Be back soon, Bug,” he’d whisper, careful not to wake her.

As he adjusts to life on the road with a family at home waiting for him, he finds ways to stay connected. Each morning, he starts his day with a message to you — a quick good morning, checking in to see how the night had been, letting you know he’s thinking of you and counting down the hours until he’s back by your side. He’ll send photos that capture pieces of his day he knows you’ll enjoy — a sunset over the city from his hotel room, a perfectly plated dinner from team meals, or the view from the bus on the way to the arena. And, just for you, he’ll sometimes snap a quick mirror picture in his suit, straightening his tie with a half-smile, even though he’s not a fan of selfies.

But a quiet gesture that started on the very first trip away is the flowers. He hated the idea of leaving you both so soon, with your daughter only weeks old, so he’d arranged for a bouquet to arrive that evening — a way of saying, “thinking of you both. Wish I was there.” From then on, every time he leaves for a road trip, a bunch of flowers shows up at your door in the early evening, right as the light softens, filling the room with the warmth he wishes he could bring himself. Sometimes it’s simple wildflowers, other times roses or soft-petaled lilies. Each bouquet is different, but the card is always the same:

For my girls. I’ll be back soon. Love, Q

On nights when your daughter is restless, the two of you fall into a rhythm, tag-teaming through the long hours. You take turns, each of you catching snippets of sleep between the cries and the soothing. Tonight, it’s technically your turn, but when her soft whimpers start up less than an hour after Quinn last got her back to sleep, he stirs, already aware of how worn out you are.

As he feels you begin to shift out of bed with a tired sigh, he rolls over, gently smoothing a hand over your waist to stop you.

“I’ll get her,” he whispers, his voice hoarse with sleep, but his touch warm and comforting.

Before you can protest, he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder, a quiet reassurance that he’s got it handled, really.

Then, without another word, he slips out of bed and pads softly across the room to her bassinet, leaning down to scoop her up, his hand resting gently on her back as he begins to sway. You watch him from where you lay, heart swelling with gratitude as he settles into the familiar rhythm of rocking her, his figure shadowed in the dim light. And as he hums softly, you can feel the weight lift just a bit, knowing he’s right there beside you, sharing every sleepless moment, every soft whisper, every ounce of love that fills these quiet hours.

Fatherhood may be new, but the way he carries it makes it look like it’s always been a part of him.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

requests are open - let’s daydream!

[hyunpic]

HAPPY BIRTHDAY HYUNJIN 🖤

[crowsgrudge]

fionna's world being represented by a dandelion makes so much sense ... they're weeds. yet people make wishes through them, changing their whole meaning from something meant to be destroyed to something hopeful.

dandelions are also resilient and it makes sense that something associated with them would. you know. perservere despite the destruction caused by the scarab.

but ultimately i think what REALLY made me tear up over this is that dandelions are really boring plants. when you're a kid you blow on them and make your wish but they're not eyecatching or anything but still, fionna's final wish was for her old world to still exist as it was when she left it (> plain and simple. boring even).

like the moment she realized she would lose her friends, and that her friends might forget each other if the world got its magic back, she immediately decided she didn't want it and I think that ties back to the dandelion metaphor so well... like, do you really need magic to be real to find it everywhere? or can you turn something boring into something magical?

[merrysithmas]

the way michael fassbender delivered the line "i want you by my side... we're like brothers- all of us, together. protecting each other." deserves the noble prize for gay coding

because he took what was clearly supposed to be a gay sike from Fox and made it concretely gay by qualifying the "brothers" statement as not part of the first clause ("i want you by my side") but as a new clause after an implied semi-colon or ellipse making it connect to the second sentiment ("all of us, together"). this makes it seem like he's saying-

"I want you by my side; ... We're brothers, all of us. Together. Protecting each other."

and not

"I want you by my side - we're brothers. All of us together, protecting each other."

He even makes a gesture towards the others with his hand while saying "all of us" to further illustrate the brothers statement is universal between all mutants and not personal between he and charles.

it's just so obvious he thought a lot about that line delivery and how to make it as GAY as possible while telling fox to go f themselves.

it's called Acting sweaty, look it up

[puddii-ng]

a nostalgic feeling ♪

[hinamie]

binding vow

[jeff-guy]

First 2 inktobers!

I'm using @silksongeveryday prompts so Day one is Hornet forgoring to take care of herself in school (Im projecting.)

Day two is me going insane about women with big needles.

[wispscribbles]

Your art style is just so delicious!!! It’s got such low key Ghibli vibes, especially in the eyes, and your color control is fantastic. You’re amazing, keep rockin it! ✨

aw yay, Ghibli vibes!! I grew up on those movies, they've definitely inspired me to create. Thank you sm <3

wanted to draw some small ghibli ghoap after getting this ask. 'Ghost's moving castle'

[ruporas]

only human

[ID: Two page comic in color of Vash and Wolfwood from Trigun Maximum. The first page has a black background and the upper half, behind the panels, is splattered with stylized red blood, scattered bullets, and lifeless hands. In the first panel, it focuses on Vash's boots, showing him stepping through the panel and into the bloody scene. The second panel shows his bloody footprints and the third panel shows his face, his down-turned eyes looking downwards. It's a neutral, vague expression with confliction. At the bottom of the page, the back of Wolfwood's head and shoulder is seen, blood dirtying the white color of his shirt and side of his face. Vash's hand reaches out to him from the right side of the page.

The second page shows the entire scene in full, half the page in light and the other in solid black. At the center, Vash leans down onto his knees as he wraps his arms around Wolfwood's shoulders into a hug. Wolfwood's back is turned away from the viewer, his left arm holds onto his bloodied punisher and his right hand sits on his lap. Light casts from the left side of the page, showing the bloodied surrounding, but the held up punisher casts a shadow on the both of them, shielding them from the light. END ID]

[jesuistrestriste]

bestie okay hear me out. priest mike but like you're the one in control. STAY WITH ME!! like you go to church and flirt with him like crazy, wearing skimpy outfits making him dizzy in the head which eventually leads him to cave into his desires that he holds so dearly, basically begging for for your attention and your touch. idk but the thought of like "corrupting" (idk if that's the right word for it) him in such a filthy slutty way, man in thinking thoughts...(absolutely love your writing btw you're so talented fr!!)

(AHH?? anon?? woah, woah woah. im drooling. im definitely listening.)

i can imagine the reader going to the church in a short jean skirt that just barely covers her ass. and she knows people will judge her, but she doesn't care because all she needs is his attention.

the priest is up on the stage, giving a sermon, staring right at her, and all the reader does is maintain eye contact while she uncrosses her legs and holy shit she's not wearing panties.

he's sweating and burning up and almost stuttering in front of everyone as he pulls on the collar of his dress shirt and tries not to look at her, but he really can't tear his eyes away for more than a few seconds. mind you, he's popping a boner behind the pulpit. thank god for that fuckin' pulpit, pun not intended (sorry, god).

once the service is done, and everyone has flooded out, he quickly walks down to the reader in the pews and immediately gets down on his knees in front of her; his eyes all big and blue with pupils completely blown.

"what are you trying to do to me?" he whispers, desperation and anticipation and embarrassment wavering in his voice as his hands run up over the soft skin of her thighs.

and the reader just smirks, spreads her legs, and urges his face into her heat. "Shhhh," she hums softly, watching him look up to her as his lips and tongue make contain with her slick cunt, "be good for me.. we can ask god for forgiveness after you make me cum..."

and wow, he doesn't resist at all. he laps at her core until shes spilling and spasming in her seat, her leg draped over his shoulder as the broken AC in the church only exacerbates his guilty sweating.

should he stop? yeah. but he can't. and he won't. he wouldn't in a million years. not even if hell itself opened up beneath the floorboards of the holy building they're in and threatened to swallow him up if he didn't stop eating her pussy.

if heaven's doors opened up above right then, a golden staircase beckoning him in, he'd still choose her pretty folds + her hole over any sort of everlasting paradise.

after all, weren't heaven and her the same things?

----

ive honestly been thinking about writing a pt 2 to "kneel" where the reader takes a bit of control? like a tiny bit? i just don't think that the priest!mike faist character i've built up in that fic would necessarily enjoy her doing that LMFAO.

he'd be like "hm. ok. ill do it for u". but when she starts to coo at him or deny him release he's suddenly like >:( this isn't fun anymore.

---

but no, im seriously all about corruption. i think it's insanely hot. so i raise u one more: priest's son!mike...? priest's son!art donaldson..?

mmph