#© mine

[kazudesuu]

sukuna x gn! reader

cw : angst with comfort

i am currently so obsessed with jjk you have no idea.

— reunited again

: sukuna could not love, he thought he couldn’t but you proved him wrong.

sukuna didn’t believe he was capable of love. he was the king of curses, a being made and fuelled by hatred.

he was always seen with a scowl, a smirk perhaps on a good day, or when he’s fighting a particular interesting opponent. other than that, days were mundane for him.

of course, that all changed when you entered his life. a young one with a cursed technique that allowed you to fight on par with him.

you were interesting and sukuna was interested in you.

during the times the you and sukuna weren’t fighting each other, you fought others instead. the heian era dominated by both of you. if anyone back then were to hear either of your names, they were either angry or scared.

some days, you would drag sukuna out to a village, wanting to explore the place. people bowed their heads as you passed, sukuna always ahead of you.

“hey sukuna, try this dango!” you waved the treat in front of him, grinning brightly. the king of curses gave you a bored look before he eventually snatched it out of your hands. you watched in anticipation as he ate one of the balls, wanting to get his opinion on it. if he hated you, you would just kill the store owner.

after a moment of thought, sukuna passed the stick back to you.

“it tastes disgusting,” he spits. you pouted and disintegrated the rest of it. you turned away from the store, too disappointed to kill the owner.

“man, you don’t like anything do you?” you mumbled, kicking a stone away like a child. sukuna almost grins at the sight.

your statement wasn’t true. he liked fighting, he liked the fear in people’s eyes when they saw him, he liked humbling the jujutsu sorcerers who wanted to kill him. he eyes flicked to your figure, walking just a step behind him as you mumbled something incoherent.

he liked you too.

the fact was confirmed when he found himself running to catch your body as you fell with a sword through your abdomen. he watched as blood poured from your mouth.

time felt disoriented as sukuna saw the life in your eyes begin to fade away. he couldn’t do anything to stop it, couldn’t do anything as your body went slowly went limp, couldn’t do anything when you told him three words that would haunt him for the rest of his life.

you died without sukuna telling you how much you meant for him. you died with his heart in your hands. you died unknowing that you taught sukuna how to love.

sukuna finally believed he was capable of love, and at the same time, he’d also become capable of tears.

when sukuna awakened in itadori yuuji’s body, he was met with a familiar sight.

you were as beautiful as the day he lost you, if not even more so.

you stood in front of a younger black-haired male, glaring at him with those eyes he loved so much. “megumi, retreat first.” the male obeyed, running in the opposite direction.

you were afraid that sukuna would follow him and you were ready to put your life on the line to protect the first year at all costs. in your clenched fists, cursed energy was pulsing, ready to activate and take sukuna on if needed.

sukuna and you stared at each other, neither of your moving. your heart was pounding against your rib cage. fear or adrenaline, you didn’t know. what you do know was that you needed to stay alive until gojo arrived.

the king of curses took a step towards you, you took three steps back.

“you do not remember me,” sukuna said, his voice much softer than you expected.

you furrowed your eyebrows in confusion. “you’re ryomen sukuna, king of curses,” you state.

sukuna shakes his head. “so this is how the gods wanted it to be.” he couldn’t help but let out a deep laugh. his voice reverberated through the air and you felt uncomfortable. sukuna took another step towards you, then another and another.

you backed away slowly, cautiously. one wrong move and you’d be dead.

“very well then, i’ll help you to recall.” in a blink of an eye, sukuna was in front of you, pressing his middle and ring finger to your temple. then, you saw it.

memories of you in your past life with sukuna played before your eyes. it was like watching a movie, except you were the main character in each and every scene. everything rushed back you and when you came back to your senses, you realised you were in sukuna’s arm.

the king of curses would have never allowed anyone to touch him. they would be killed in an instant. but as you laid in his warmth, you realised you weren’t just anyone.

“missed me?” sukuna smirked.

you blinked back tears you didn’t even know you were holding in. sukuna’s hand wrapped around yours while you processed what you’ve just witnessed.

after so many years, the two of you were finally reunited, albeit under different circumstances. but nonetheless reunited.

and this time sukuna thought to himself i won’t let you go so easily again.

[poemale]

　 　 　 　 　ㅤ᧔ my favorite symbols ྀི

ㅤㅤㅤฅ̀ㅤㅤഒㅤㅤᨳㅤㅤกㅤㅤ๑ㅤㅤ५ㅤㅤ꒳ㅤㅤᶻzㅤㅤછㅤㅤ𐂴

ㅤㅤㅤ◌ㅤㅤ✧ㅤㅤ⍰ㅤㅤױㅤㅤ༉ㅤㅤꕀㅤㅤ᭥ㅤㅤ⨳ㅤㅤᄊㅤㅤຊ

ㅤㅤㅤྀㅤㅤ꒰͡⠀ㅤㅤ𑁯ㅤㅤ⌯ㅤㅤઇ ㅤ ೀㅤㅤ‸ㅤㅤ⪨ㅤㅤ𑁍᪲ㅤㅤ⸙

ㅤㅤㅤཐㅤㅤಎㅤㅤྀིㅤㅤ ༘ㅤㅤ𖧁ㅤㅤ ूㅤㅤ𐀔 ㅤ ⿻ㅤㅤ⌅ㅤㅤ⌁

ㅤㅤ ‎ ‎ ‎ ‎ঌ ㅤ 𓋜‎ ㅤ ઉㅤㅤ𖤛 ㅤ ༮ㅤㅤ୫ㅤㅤ⩀ㅤㅤ◌⃘ ׅㅤㅤᘒㅤㅤ✉

ㅤㅤㅤ⟆ㅤㅤ ㅋㅤㅤ٢ㅤ ㅤᄊ⃝⠀ ⠀ㅾ̲ㅤㅤ𑁪ㅤ ⠀?̸ㅤㅤᰋㅤㅤᨩㅤㅤヰ

　 　 　 

　 　 　 

[jazzitos]

*ૢ ❤︎ What a Shame 🐧▨ ᭄

[haridraws]

Inversnaid - Gerard Manley Hopkins

a patron told me a drawing I did reminded them of this poem (enormous compliment) and I love it immensely, so wanted to post it with a river drawing collection.

These drawings were made in various parts of Scotland, climbing down to get closer to the bank and painted with river water. None of them are the exact stream at Inversnaid this poem is about, but none are very far away - the middle is one that eventually leads into the same loch.

The UK is one of the most nature-depleted countries in the world. Awareness and efforts to rewild and preserve pockets of ancient woodland like these are growing here, if slowly. Long live the weeds and the wilderness yet.

[sunarilea]

[soberstardom]

ⓘ — 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐞.

[s2kahei]

　 　 　 　　 𝒸𝓊𝓇𝒾ℴ𝓊𝓈 　𝗐𝗁𝖺𝗍 　𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾 　𝖿𝖾𝖾𝗅𝗌　𝓁𝒾𝓀ℯ　﹐ 

[alwayswonderingandwandering]

monument

[bloghrexach]

🐱 … my current view — 9AM!! … 🐱

[kazudesuu]

satosugu x gn!reader

cw : fluff, bit of angst

haven’t written for so long so please accept this crumb of writing 😸

— together

: riko’s death and toji’s words took a toll on geto. how do you comfort him?

geto suguru knew he was fucked.

he knew he was fucked when he witnessed riko die in front of him. he knew he was fucked when he conversed with fushiguro toji. he knew he was fucked when he returned that night, images of the day’s events still flashing through his mind.

he was spiralling.

geto stood in the shower, letting the cool water run down his body. white noise filled his ears.

it’s too loud. it’s too loud. it’s too loud. it’s too loud. it’s too—

“suguru?” geto snapped out of whatever trance he was in. he turned, facing you. he took note of your uniform, how it was bloodied and crinkled. he hoped the blood wasn’t yours.

you stood there, staring at him. his eyes looked exhausted. dark circles were prominent underneath.

you had just returned from a mission against a grade one curse. it was a tough fight but you managed. you’d heard from principal yaga of what had happened and as the lover of the two strongest sorcerers, you were worried. you were aware gojo had been busy with more missions, now that he’d unlocked a greater power. he didn’t have time to be there for geto.

but you did.

and that was what you were doing right now.

silently, you stripped as geto turned away to face the wall. when you were bare, you approached geto and wrapped your arms around his waist, pressing your right cheek against his back.

the two of you were still. you felt geto relax against you. he closed his eyes, trying to find comfort in this moment of tranquility.

after a while, he turned his whole body to embrace you from the front. he buried his face in your neck, inhaling your scent.

“suguru…” your voice was soft, gentle. “everything will be fine. i’m here.” geto gripped you tighter, body shaking slightly.

he’s crying you realise.

“you can cry. don’t worry, i won’t let go of you.” you weren’t really a good comforter but you knew geto needed you now. needed someone he could rely on, someone he trusted. he cried a lot, sobs escaping him one after another. the sight of him so vulnerable made your heart clenched. this was what he was going through.

the shower had already stopped running now but you felt water dripped down your back. your hand reached up to geto’s hair, stroking it.

“y/n, i don’t know what to do,” geto muttered.

“we’ll figure it out. all three of us.” you pulled away from geto, cupping his face in your hands. “you’re not alone sugu. satoru and i will always be here.” you smile at him, using your thumb to wipe away his tears. geto stared into your eyes, seeing the immense amount of love in them. he couldn’t help but smile too.

after a few moments of the two you just staring at each other, you clapped your hands together. “okay, let’s finish showering. satoru should be coming back soon so let’s all just cuddle together and watch a movie!”

geto’s eyes softened as he slowly nodded. “sure.”

when gojo opened the door to the shared dorm, he found you and geto snuggled comfortably in bed. geto’s arms were snaked around your torso. your face was covered by his long hair.

gojo breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of you two. he walked towards the bed, glancing down at his lovers. you suddenly shifted, aware of another presence in the room.

when your eyelids fluttered open, you were met with a pair of beautiful blue eyes. “toru…” you muttered hazily. gojo lowered down and kissed your forehead.

“hey.” the male then leaned over to place a kiss on geto’s forehead. “is he okay?”

you looked up at gojo then back down at geto. you smile solemnly. “not right now but he will be, hopefully.”

gojo nodded. “i should’ve been there,” he mumbled, guilt and worry laced in his tone.

“what has happened has already happened. it was no one’s fault satoru. i hope you know that.” you reached to grab gojo’s hand. “now come on, clean yourself up and join us.”

gojo chuckled and jokingly saluted. “whatever you say.”

[pastelbiu]

"The rose that grew from concrete"

[lottieslamb]

ALL CHERUB-FACED WITH A HAUNTED MIND

Ⳋ policy library archives nonnies white–hispanic. minor, 2008. ♌︎. she.

[softkult]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈𝐕

𝐀𝐃𝐑𝐈𝐀𝐍 / 𝐎𝐊𝐓𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑

Die Tasten von Adrians altem Nokia klackten, als würden sie gleich brechen. Ich hab schon wieder diesen Dude mit der Schusswunde gesehen. Die SMS an seinen besten Freund ging raus, während Adrian sich durch eine kleine Menschentraube vorbei in den Kash-Markt schob. Von hier drinnen konnte er den Typen auf der anderen Straßenseite immer noch sehen. Seine Kleidung war verschlissen und sah aus, als wäre sie aus den 80ern. Passend dazu trug er eine Hornbrille, die viel zu groß für seinen Kopf war. Er war schlaksig und wirkte unbeholfen auf Adrian, der ihn seit einigen Wochen ständig vor dem gleichen Supermarkt sah. Das erste Mal, als er ihn gesehen hatte, gefror Adrian das Blut in den Adern, obwohl es draußen unerträglich heiß war. In seiner Brust klaffte ein Loch, was viel zu realistisch für Make-up aussah.

Der beige hässliche Pullunder war um das Loch herum Blutgetränkt, sein Blick war leer. Auch als Adrian ihn ansprach, um zu fragen, ob er Hilfe brauchte. Er reagierte nicht mal. Jemanden mit einer Schusswunde im 8000-Seelen Dorf South Cleveland zu sehen war alarmierend. Nur nicht so alarmierend wie der Fakt, dass Adrian ihn seitdem ständig sah, jedes Mal mit der gleichen Kleidung, der gleichen Wunde. Nur sein Blick veränderte sich manchmal, als würde er Adrian doch wahrnehmen. Etwas, was er viel schlimmer fand, als seinen leeren Blick zuvor. 

Er war nicht der einzige, der mit einer solchen Wunde durch die Gegend lief. Etwas, was Adrian einige Wochen versucht hatte zu verdrängen, bis er herausfand, dass Jona die gleichen Leute sah. Das Mädchen mit ihrer pinken Matschhose, der der halbe Kiefer fehlte. Die ältere Frau, die außer einem Handtuch um die Hüften nichts trug, doch ständig den Weg von der Tankstelle bis zur Telefonzelle und wieder zurück lief. Der Priester, dem ein gewaltiges Kreuz im Hinterkopf steckte, der aber sonst einen wirklich fitten Eindruck machte, während er Flyer vor der Kirche verteilte. Nur, dass niemand einen nahm, weil niemand ihn sehen konnte. 

Adrian war überzeugt, dass es mit dem Haus zusammenhing und der Zeit, die sie dort verbracht haben. Etwas, über das keiner der beiden mehr reden wollte. Doch während Adrian dringend darüber reden musste, dass sie anscheinend Tote sehen konnten, wollte Jona nichts davon hören und stellte sich komplett quer. Jedes einzelne Mal, wenn Adrian versuchte, es anzusprechen, winkte sein bester Freund ab. Was willst du jetzt daran ändern, Bidelspach? Es ist verkackt nochmal passiert, hör auf der ganzen Scheiße noch mehr Aufmerksamkeit zu geben. Das war jedoch gar nicht so leicht, wenn “die ganze Scheiße” wie Jona es so schön nannte, direkt vor der Fensterscheibe des Kash-Markts stand und ihn anstarrte. Adrian zuckte so heftig zusammen, dass ihm beinahe die Milch aus der Hand fiel, die er seiner Mutter kaufen sollte. Im letzten Moment konnte er sie noch auffangen. Als er hoch blickte, war der Mann weg. Das war verdammt creepy. Bis jetzt hatten sie sich zum großen Teil ferngehalten und Adrian wollte es dabei belassen. Bevor der 80er Jahre Typ zurückkommen konnte, wollte er mit dem Einkauf fertig sein und verschwinden. 

Seine Hand griff nach einer Dose Bohnen, als ihn eine gewaltige Kraft zurück in die Scheibe des Kühlregals hinter sich schubste. Der Hieb war so heftig, dass Adrian die Luft wegblieb. Mit einem Ächzen ging er zu Boden und spürte zum ersten Mal das Brennen in seiner Brust, als hätte ihm jemand einen Lötkolben quer in die Schulter geschoben. Weit entfernt konnte er die Stimmen von Kash und seiner Frau vernehmen, die immer wieder versuchten, auf ihn einzureden. Adrians zitternde Finger tasteten seinen Hals hinab zu der Stelle, die sich schlimmer anfühlte, als alles, was er jemals vorher gefühlt hatte. Nicht einmal der dreifache Bruch seines Unterarms, den er sich bei seinem leichtsinnigen Sprung vom Dach der Garage zugezogen hatte, konnte mithalten. Er konnte immer noch nicht verstehen, woher der plötzliche Schmerz kam, bis er sein Shirt mühevoll runterzog und einen Blick auf seine Brust werfen konnte. Überall war Blut. Es sickerte dunkel aus der Schusswunde, die seine Haut zerfetzt hatte. Sein Shirt war immer noch heile. Kein zerrissener Stoff. Nichts außer die klaffende, schmerzhafte Wunde, die dafür sorgte, dass sich Adrian auf dem Boden krümmte, bis die Schmerzen so unerträglich wurden, dass ihm schwarz vor den Augen wurde. Seine Zunge und Hände wurden taub. Die Stimmen um ihn immer leiser, die flackernden Neonröhren gingen aus und er landete im kompletten Nichts.

Watte. Das war alles, was Adrian spürte. Ein Gefühl, als wäre sein Gehirn Zuckerwatte, seine Zunge kribbelte und war staubtrocken. Gott, er musste dringend was trinken. Für einen Moment setzte Panik ein, dass er immer noch in dem Haus am Rande der Stadt war, dass sie niemals entkommen waren. Adrian konnte gar nicht zählen, wie oft er seit August schweißgebadet wach wurde und sich genau so gefühlt hatte. Jetzt war er nicht in seinem Bett, sondern im Supermarkt und mehrere Augenpaare blickten ihn besorgt an. Er war komplett weggetreten. Kein Wunder, dass sich alle Sorgen machten. “Hey!” Kash, dem der Laden gehörte, schlug zwei Mal heftig gegen seine Wange, um sein Bewusstsein endgültig ins Hier und Jetzt zu befördern. Adrian fasste sich automatisch an die Brust, tastete sich ab, als würde er immer noch das Brennen spüren. Da war nichts. Kein Brennen, kein Schlag, keine Eintrittswunde, kein Blut. Gar nichts. Nicht mal mehr der Schmerz, an den er sich noch erinnern konnte, als hätte ihm tatsächlich jemand mit einem Gewehr ein Loch in die Brust gejagt. Gar nichts! Stattdessen besorgte Gesichter, Nachfragen, laute Stimmen. Adrian versuchte aufzustehen, seine Knie immer noch weich. Die Schmerzen in seiner Brust waren zwar weg, doch die in seinem Hinterkopf vom Schlag gegen die Kühltruhe waren da. Real. War das die Schusswunde nicht? War es reine Einbildung? Ein Souvenir aus dem Horrorhaus? Es war genau so real wie der Boden, den er endlich wieder unter seinen Füßen spürte. Bevor ihn irgendwer ausfragen konnte, stürmte er aus dem Laden auf die Straße. Der 80er Jahre Mann mit dem scheußlichen Pullunder stand wieder auf der anderen Straßenseite. Ihre Blicke trafen sich und Adrian fackelte nicht lange, bevor er direkt auf ihn zurannte. Er hatte eine Menge Fragen, auch wenn Jona die nicht hatte. Dieser Typ mit der Schusswunde an der exakt gleichen Stelle wie Adrians Pseudowunde musste irgendwelche Antworten haben. Zumindest war es ein Anfang. Das Hupen neben ihm riss ihn aus seinem Fokus. “Verdammt, guck doch nach vorne!”, schrie eine Autofahrerin aus ihrem Fenster, dabei wild gestikulierend. Adrian hob seine Hand entschuldigend, obwohl ihm danach war, den Mittelfinger zu nehmen. Als er die Straße heil überquert hatte, war der Mann weg.

Die große Flut ist vorbei. Gott sagt: „Jetzt könnt ihr die Arche verlassen.“ […] Gott gibt Noah ein Versprechen: „Nie wieder werde ich eine solch furchtbare Flut schicken! Ich male den Regenbogen an den Himmel. Er soll euch an mein Versprechen erinnern.“ (1. Buch Mose 6-9)

[idlespright]

Self made bread is always the best!

[itsamonroe]

Tap tap tap... Hello? Is this thing still on?

It's been nine years since this series launched, and against all odds, WE'RE BACK. The parks have had some delightful updates between then and now, and I'm having the most magical time picking up this series of work again. (And stay tuned: in addition to cooking up new designs, I'm working on some new applications?? That's all I can say at the moment, eep!)

Given that the first posterized series was centered on Toontown, it only makes sense to pick back up in this land. Nothing can stop us now!

Posterized Parks Series // Mickey's Toontown

[kazudesuu]

alhaitham , ayato (separate) x male!reader

cw : fluff!

— pretty boy

: how would alhaitham and ayato comfort their insecure s/o?

ALHAITHAM

when alhaitham sees you in the mirror staring at your own face, he sighs. you’ve done this countless of times since the two of you started dating.

a while ago, you’d admitted to alhaitham that you felt insecure of yourself. you kept complaining about the features you have and whatnot. alhaitham could only listen silently, not wanting to seem insensitive and interrupt you while you were ranting.

alhaitham isn’t one to go for looks. he solely believes that a person’s qualities lies on the inside, not the outside. however when it came to you, in alhaitham’s eyes, you were beautiful inside and out.

he knows and is aware that he had a way with words. alhaitham isn’t the best at expressing himself through words, opting to show affection through actions.

but he’d try for you.

alhaitham approached you slowly before wrapping his arms around you. “my dear, you know you’re beautiful, right?”

you, already close to tears due to all the bad thoughts in your mind, sniffled.

the man continued. “throughout my life, i have never seen anyone with your beauty. your features are so unique and beautiful that i can’t help but fall in love with them.”

alhaitham delicately lifted your chin, your eyes meeting his. he smiled softly, a smile reserved only for you. carefully alhaitham brushed away your tears before kissing your cheeks.

“everything about you is perfect. your beauty is incomparable, my love. i’m very lucky to have you by my side,” alhaitham says, turning your body towards him. “if you saw yourself through my eyes, you’ll understand what i mean.”

you finally crack a smile, albeit slightly crooked, before lightly pushing him away. “stop it. it’s so weird having someone so authoritative say such words.”

alhaitham replies, “i’m only speaking the truth. i don’t think there’s anything wrong with that.”

you laugh.

indeed, alhaitham would always find you amazing. even if you deny it, even if you forget it, he’ll be there to remind just how perfect you are to him.

AYATO

nobody can understand kamisato ayato, the ever refined and elegant head of the kamisato clan. it’s hard to tell if he has hidden motives behind his actions.

many people are cautious around him. even you, his cute little s/o. though it’s rare.

everyone in inazuma views this man like he’s some deity. and you can see why. ayato is responsible, graceful in his words and actions and most of all, he’s beautiful.

this is why you can’t understand why ayato chose you out of all people to be his boyfriend.

you didn’t come from a distinguished clan, just some small humble family living on the coasts of narukami island. you’d met ayato while he was roaming around the island. the two of you hit off and your relationship progressed into what it is now.

ayato didn’t care about your upbringings or family. he didn’t care that you weren’t some prominent figure in inazuma. he loved you for who you were.

the other clans, however, couldn’t accept you.

they said that you had nothing to offer. you didn’t have status, you didn’t have money, you didn’t even possess the ability to bear children.

everyone in the elite society of inazuma despised you. and you just sucked it up

because you believed that what they said about you was true. and that led to endless nights of you crying yourself to sleep, wanting to drown out all their voices in your head.

at first, ayato was oblivious to this all. the nobles didn’t dare talk bad about you in front of him because they know what’s he’s capable of. but once he leaves, they stab you with harsh words.

it was thoma who informed ayato about everything and without a moment wasted, ayato rushed to you.

at the time, you had already fallen asleep. ayato quietly crept up to your bedside. he notes the tear stains on your cheeks and promised to make the nobles pay.

ayato gently peppers your face with soft kisses, waking you up in the process of doing so.

“ayato..?” you mumble half-asleep.

“it’s me darling,” ayato says back in a tone so soft that it almost makes you cry again. “i’m sorry i didn’t realise earlier.”

you sat up and ayato sits on the bed.

“i’m sorry ayato. i just don’t think i’m worthy. those elites are right, i don’t deserve to be beside you. you’re so amazing and i—“

“— am amazing too,” ayato finishes for you. he cups your cheek and brings your forehead to his. “no matter what they say, no matter what they think, no one is worthy of being my partner other than you. no one.”

you can’t help but cry again.

yes, nobody can understand kamisato ayato. however, now you can, even if it’s just a tiny bit.