#Cursed Spirits

[nanamineedstherapy]

In Shadows of his Heart

Watching Megumi Fushiguro fall in love with someone else - (Ao3)

Summery - I watched him from the shadows, from across hallways and rooftops, through laughter and heartache. Over the years, Megumi Fushiguro became the center of a world he’d never know he created within me. My words stayed locked away, my feelings buried, while he found comfort in another’s arms. And still, I remain—close enough to share his silence, yet forever worlds apart from the piece of him I can never reach. This story explores the bittersweet experience of loving from a distance, a journey marked by joy, pain, and the quiet acceptance of what can never be.

A/N: Hey lovely readers! So, this little story came to me when I saw this playlist tagged above, fueled by way too many late-night JJK marathons

The first time I saw Megumi Fushiguro at Jujutsu High, he was just a boy with distant eyes and a heaviness I couldn’t name. But something in him pulled at me, a force I couldn’t shake. So, I slipped into the background like always, hiding my gaze as he passed. But I couldn’t escape the way he filled every corner of my days—training grounds, hallways, in fleeting shadows. Each time he walked by, my heart lurched, words I’d never say burning in my throat.

I kept my distance, as he grew more powerful, surrounded by friends and purpose. Yuji, Nobara—they became his family, his laughter and life. And I watched, each shared smile and laugh a hollow ache, reminding me that I would always be on the outside. Sometimes, he’d look my way. I’d turn too quickly, terrified he’d catch a glimpse of something I could barely admit to myself.

He tried to bridge the distance—small moments, a casual comment, a glance that almost felt like it lingered. But I always gave some empty response and retreated, the words I wanted to say trapped under my cowardice. He’d never know what it did to me to be near him, how each shared breath shattered my composure in ways he could never understand.

Then she came along—Aoi. Strong, confident, the kind of person who could stand next to him with nothing held back. I watched them, the way he looked at her with a softness I knew I’d never earn. She could touch his arm, hold his gaze, unburdened by hesitation. And I knew—I was nothing like her, would never be. My place was in the silence, out of his world. She was everything he deserved, and I was just an unwanted shadow.

The years passed, and I stayed hidden. Now we were 27, bearing scars and ghosts we couldn’t shake, hardened by loss and regret. Megumi and Aoi had become inseparable, two halves of a whole, bound by the love I’d never have. I saw it—the way his gaze softened when he looked at her, the silent promises I’d never hear. I was left with the fragments of what could never be, buried under years of unspoken longing and painful devotion.

Sometimes, he’d still find me. He’d ask if I was okay, offer a rare kindness that twisted the knife deeper. I’d nod, smile, and step back, choking down words that would only poison me more if I let them out. He’d never know what he was doing to me, how much it hurt to be a witness to a happiness I could never touch.

One night, after a brutal mission, he found me alone on the rooftop, the city lights below a cold reminder of everything slipping away. He sat beside me, close enough that I could almost pretend we were still kids. His gaze searched my face, a silent question hanging in the air.

“You’re always running away,” he murmured, quiet but piercing. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

I forced myself to look at him, to hold that gaze even as my chest twisted in pain. “I’m fine, Megumi. Just… tired.”

He nodded, unconvinced, his expression something like regret. “If you ever need to talk… I’m here.” The words were gentle, a kindness I could never reach. I managed a broken smile. “Thank you, Megumi.”

He smiled back, his hand reaching out to pull me to my feet. That simple gesture—the touch I craved and feared—felt like the cruelest gift. As we walked back together, side by side, I stole one last glance, hoping he wouldn’t notice. Megumi Fushiguro, the boy who’d become my world. He’d never know what he’d done to me, how I’d carry this hollow ache for the rest of my life.

I’d stay beside him, invisible, bound to a place that could never be mine. I was a silent ghost in his life, a shadow on the edges, haunting him with a love he’d never see.

Author's Note: Hey lovely readers! So, this little story came to me when I saw this playlist tagged above, fueled by way too many late-night JJK marathons and an unhealthy amount of caffeine. 🚀 Remember, unspoken love is like a cursed spirit—it’s always lurking, just waiting to mess with your feelings. Feel free to drop a comment if you laughed, cried, or if you just want to yell about how much you love Megumi (because, same).

[shelterofthelostone]

just a small post of admiration.  i simply love the dynamic between the cursed spirits and feel like among their small group Jogo and Hanami had the deepest connection. they both were quite old earth-based curses, who seemed to know each other pretty well and for very long time. they felt to be kind of good friends, despite their differences. at least, that was the impression from Jogo’s sincerity in his last moments and from his natural panic reactions while fighting Gojo.  it’s a pity he had a bit of time to mourn Dagon, but he had no time at all either to help or to mourn Hanami properly

[jujutsuaiko-ka]

Atsuha Expo

Prepare yourselves for another long post...

I pride myself in cataloging and drawing Fly Heads. It's been a habit that helped me train my jujutsu skills, as well as my artistic skills, drawing and writing.

Knowing there were unregistered curses through the sorcerers Yuuji-sensei gathered for a tryout reunion, I wondered about their appearence, and did not waste the opportunity to ask for a description of them.

So, what first started as quite praised sketches became a full-on mission to best portray these former enemies. After all, they didn't appear in photographs till recent studies and tests on polaroid cameras.

𝔸𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕙𝕒 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕪 𝕖𝕩𝕔𝕚𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕤𝕖𝕤, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕕𝕚𝕧𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕖𝕒𝕕 𝕚𝕟 𝕠𝕟 𝕤𝕜𝕖𝕥𝕔𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘, 𝕣𝕖𝕧𝕚𝕤𝕚𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕤 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕒𝕘𝕒𝕚𝕟. 𝕋𝕙𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙 𝕕𝕦𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤, 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕚𝕥 𝕒 𝕔𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕒𝕚𝕟 𝕡𝕠𝕚𝕟𝕥…

Yeah... I did became self-conscious and worried about the drawings not 'fitting the described appearance' or the 'liking of the sorcerers around'. More around the last one, which I guess I knew would lead to this, henceforth I put him last...

𝕋𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕓𝕖𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕧𝕠𝕨-𝕓𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕚𝕤 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟 𝕚𝕗 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕤𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕤 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕓𝕖𝕔𝕠𝕞𝕖 𝕠𝕟𝕖, 𝕠𝕦𝕣 𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕜'𝕤 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕠𝕟𝕒𝕟𝕔𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕓𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕨𝕒𝕪𝕤. 𝕊𝕠 𝕞𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕗𝕝𝕚𝕔𝕥��𝕟𝕘 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕄𝕒𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕠 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕟𝕖𝕨 𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗/𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕣 𝕐𝕒𝕙𝕚𝕥𝕠 𝕣𝕦𝕓𝕓𝕖𝕕 𝕠𝕟 𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕠𝕥𝕙 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕤𝕔𝕚𝕠𝕦𝕤𝕝𝕪, 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕣𝕦𝕓𝕓𝕖𝕕-𝕠𝕟 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕠 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕥𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕦𝕟𝕓𝕣𝕚𝕕𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕙𝕒𝕥𝕣𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠𝕨𝕒𝕣𝕕𝕤 𝕙𝕚𝕞.

I'm not proud of this... though he did felt better whenever I appeared in his dreams somehow and beat the heck out of Mahito.

ℕ𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕣 𝕤𝕒𝕚𝕕 𝕀 𝕕𝕚𝕕𝕟'𝕥 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕧𝕖. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕀 𝕕𝕠 𝕒𝕡𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕚𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕡𝕖𝕔𝕥𝕖𝕕 𝕞𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕢𝕦𝕖𝕤𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕝𝕝𝕪 𝕝𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕞𝕖 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕔𝕖𝕤𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕟𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕖𝕤.

You're maturing, Junpei. Even if you don't grow up, you ARE.

Anyway, these 'feelings' drove me to not portray Mahito in a 'flattering way'... I did manage to sketch him somewhat like that, but I was so concerned about Junpei's opinion and possible and obvious resentment, as well as Yuuji-sensei's, that I just crumbled that drawing and just made a mess of a paper montage, making him ugly as sin.

Needless to say, something born out of such sour feelings is bound to not be fruitful. AKA, everyone who came over the Hidden Room to check on my drawings was taken aback by that montage.

𝕀 𝕨𝕒𝕤 𝕨𝕙𝕠 𝕜𝕖𝕡𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕔𝕣𝕦𝕞𝕓𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕕𝕣𝕒𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕓𝕣𝕠𝕦𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕚𝕥 𝕠𝕧𝕖𝕣. 𝕀𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕡𝕖𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕟𝕥 𝕠𝕗 𝕞𝕪 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕒𝕟𝕪 𝕔𝕠𝕟𝕔𝕝𝕦𝕤𝕚𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕀 𝕞𝕚𝕘𝕙𝕥 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕔𝕙 𝕖𝕧𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕦𝕒𝕝��𝕪, 𝕀 𝕕𝕠𝕟'𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕟𝕥 𝔸𝕥𝕤𝕦𝕙𝕒 𝕥𝕠 𝕚𝕟𝕙𝕖𝕣𝕚𝕥 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕣𝕠𝕞 𝕞𝕖. 𝕋𝕙𝕖𝕤𝕖 𝕒𝕣𝕖 𝕗𝕖𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕟𝕘𝕤 𝕀 𝕙𝕒𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕖𝕒𝕝 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕞𝕪𝕤𝕖𝕝𝕗. 𝔹𝕦𝕥 𝕀 𝕒𝕞 𝕡𝕣𝕖𝕥𝕥𝕪 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕟𝕜𝕗𝕦𝕝 𝕥𝕠 𝕓𝕖 𝕧𝕠𝕨-𝕓𝕠𝕟𝕕𝕖𝕕 𝕥𝕠 𝕙𝕖𝕣, 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕜𝕟𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕒𝕥 𝕤𝕙𝕖 𝕙𝕒𝕤 𝕞𝕪 𝕓𝕒𝕔𝕜.

Funny enough, the crumbling actually helped the drawing somewhat. I guess there was a painter that said there were 'happy accidents' in art...

[spoilt-melk]

Jujutsu Kaisen

Tokyo Jujutsu High

Kyoto Jujutsu High

Jujutsu Sorcerers

Zenin Family

Culling Game Players

Non-Combatants

Cursed Spirits

Curse Users

Non-Curse Users

Other

[comicchannel]

Funko Pop Animation Jujutsu Kaisen Mahito - 1115

Link para compra BR: *Possível importar pelo Link abaixo

Buy here: https://amzn.to/3DxbW5v

[evilkaeya]

the best kind of ships are the ones where the characters make their relationship everyone's problem

[duckiemimi]

like i said !!

i wonder who or what cursed spirits are supposed to represent? how are we supposed to interpret their narrative existence? i like to think that maybe the message here is that the “ugly parts” of humanity (cursed spirits, made from human emotion) are just as human as any other part, and so we must face them as such; together instead of alone, with compassion instead of mechanically.

i think sorcerers are taught to handle (to “exorcise”) cursed spirits as rigid cogs in a hyper-effective machine, which is why the system’s failed so many of them before (geto, hakari, and so many we haven’t even seen). maybe what the system and society needs is compassion and a little more empathy. maybe the answer is love.

(can you tell i’m a romantic?)

(also, thank you to tiktok user @goodwitchmusings for the conversation you had with me about this! it really opened my eyes and made me think more!)

kenjaku’s group of sentient cursed spirits brings about so many implications,,,,,their proximity to humanity, for one. at what point should we (they? sorcerers? society, even when most can’t see?) consider them human-adjacent? are they really entirely incapable of empathy? (i don’t think so,,,,some of them care for one another, to some extent i think,,,) and especially for someone (is he a “someone”?) like mahito, who looks human, behaves human, is made of human emotions. what is the borderline between human and non-human? should a cursed spirit like mahito develop some sort of empathy (adding to their base human-emotion make-up), would they then still be deserving of exorcism? is empathy a prerequisite to be considered human? or even to be considered in consideration? but there are people (humans) who are incapable of empathy,,,so where does that lead us? what qualities cement one’s worthiness to life?

it’s like asking if it’s ethical to experiment on aliens or if it’s ethical to create fully-grown human clones, in a way,,,not like most of society will encounter either, but ethics are always in question. right? right? at what point do they stop being the “other?” what about death paintings, like choso? or like yuuji? where do we stop?

[manuellarts]

Roll the Dice. 🎲 🩸

[bet-on-me-13]

Fight Knight is the Spirit of Halloween.

So! A new Spirit Halloween location has opened up in Gotham, and the Batfam has decided to go shopping so they can prepare for Halloween.

Just because it's one of their busiest nights of the year doesn't mean they can't enjoy themselves while patrolling.

So the family walks in about a week before Halloween and spreads out to look for decorations or costumes to wear.

Its a fun trip, they buy their costumes, have a pleasant conversation with the manager about the holiday season, and go back home.

Then they actually put on their costumes and find out that they were either Cursed or Enchanted, because once put them on they are transformed them into the Costumes themselves.

Damien has become a Dog, after putting on a cheap dog costume at the insistence of his brothers. He's not unhappy at least.

Jason has been turned into a Zombie, though he has managed to restrain himself from eating his brother's Brains so far. He claims they look unappetizing.

Tim has been turned into Super Mario. He can't stop speaking in a bad Italian accent and has a huge mustache.

Dick has been turned into a Fairy Tale Princess after putting on the costume as a Joke. He has to admit though, he looks great as a Girl.

Even Bruce wasn't spared, and was turned into a Vampire after putting in some Plastic Teeth.

Taking off the costumes hadn't turned them back, leaving them stuck in their new forms.

Now they are all racing back to that Spirit Halloween to get answers as to what the hell just happened to them.

They hope Mr. Frank Knight has some answers for them.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

||The cursed treasure hunt||

reserved au rp with @demon-blood-youths

"Anything yet?" Megumi blinks to hear this but he looks from his cell phone. He didn't know what was going on, giving the thought that something might have happened. Gojo was told Kisho still was on his on going mission to find the cursed items that came from that party. However, it leaves another wondering what was going on. He did have some help along the way so it was something.

Right now, Megumi was told by Gojo to check on him but he was not answering the text messages he sent a while ago. "I don't think so. I can try to call him and see if he can answer the phone instead. Or maybe something is effecting the signal."

"I guess that's possible but give it a shot." Yuji said. Megumi nods and goes to do that, seeing Kisho's number and hits speed dial and waits for him to find something.

"I'm sure they are fine you two..just call them and we will see their fine." Nobara said. Miko agrees hoping they were alright. She wanted to go with them but she was still on stand by to recover.

"S..same here..." she mutters seeing Megumi still waiting for Kisho to pick up.

[deadsetobsessions]

There, in the fog, a pair of glowing green eyes. Who does it belong to?

Surely not that which lays beneath the city, Gotham’s spirit that drowns in the cursed bogs buried beneath concrete and stone. Surely not she, who sobs songs of grief, she who croons silently for aid. Surely not she, madness incarnate, all gnarled shadows and crumbled concrete. Surely not she, Gotham herself, perched along her city’s gargoyles and looks over her own with stone eyes and stone heart that tries to beat like her own.

Her songs were answered with one of her own, a child whose parents were murdered in the heart of her heart. The parts of her that still loved as much as she could wholeheartedly accepted. The child that brought more children- who were all hurt by her and her own and decided she was worth helping anyways. Those eyes did not belong to her own children, those that she pulled the covers of relentless clouds over in order to protect.

No, no. Those eyes belonged to a different child. One that came later who Wailed along side her screams and soothed the madness that roiled beneath her streets.

Her screams were soothed by a child who is her liege, the small one that came and eased the rot that tore her marrow from the bones of her city- her own bones.

Phantom, she ruffles the hair of the boy king. Her gnarled joints and shadowed fangs and clawed countenance does not deter his smile and she loves the child more for it. Far better than the tyrant that tried to use her madness against her own people.

“Hi, Gotham. How are you doing today?”

Better, the gargoyles shifts and grinds. Thank you, my liege.

The boy-king laughs, bright green eyes glowing in the fog she’s summoned to obscure him from her knights. “You did most of the work.”

Not so, the winds whirls in between the white flames of the boy-king’s hair. But we have had this discourse.

Phantom smiles, sadness pulling at the corners of his eyes. She did not know human ways of emotion for she had always been a spirit, but this expression she knows well. It chases at the heels of her knights and now it is in a dogged pursuit for her liege’s heart. Gotham has found new things to hate. The shadows wrap around him.

Go, they whisper as Gotham herself slid back towards the cold stone of her city. Protect. Be happy.

“Okay, okay. But if one of your knights shoot at me again with their weird knives, I’m going to dye their hair neon pink.”

Gotham laughs, spiders bouncing along their webs. They will have deserved it.

The boy-king (hers, her liege, her son, her family, please, Gotham did not want to be alone anymore) laughed again and shot off from the perch she had provided.

[shelterofthelostone]

waiting for the Jujutsu Kaisen Season 2 mostly for its second part. even with all the greatness happening in manga and is going to happen in the first part of the S2, i still miss this grumpy volcano.  

[jujutsuaiko-ka]

your docs say some names I don't recognize, who are Yahito and Harui?

In short, they're Cursed Spirits we've faced.

Yahito calls himself the 'younger brother' of Mahito, who's the curse who killed Junpei. A curse born from human hatred, and quite a brat.

(made in CHARAT)

And Harui is Hanami's 'descendant'. He's a curse of natural disaster fear, and acts like those nose-in-the-air princes. He's figuratively and literally 'poisonous'.

(made in CHARAT)

(So, apparently even if a curse of the same source is reborn as something or someone new, they do possess somewhat connection or memories of its past life... that's interesting info.)

[charcoaldustonmyfingers]

So I decided to try this because the image was very funny to me. I tried to draw them true to the style of their respective media!

A hylian, a horse, and a human-turtle mutant step into a car. Two of them don’t know what an automobile is and the one who does can’t drive.

[demaparbat-hp]

Zuko was awoken by the ghost of a caress on his left cheek and the echo of a voice that told stories of dragons and spirits and love. No matter how things may seem to change, never forget who you are.

Zuko's childhood, as told in For the Spirits Chapter V: There Was Sun.

When did Zuko start seeing the spirits of the dead? How did loss become the norm for a child?

(Maybe it was after Lu Ten, or after Mother. Maybe it was because of the burn or the fire or the dreams sent to him by Agni. Maybe such was the way of things since the very beginning of time.)

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 247

Danny grumbles, going limp as the Spirit plucked him up, holding him out like some sort of stray cat. Their golden eyes stared across him, white hair shimmering and bloodied feathers rustling as they tilted their head. 

“You sure he’s not somehow ours?” Bludhaven asks again, setting him down once more to circle. Amity laughs, wild hair the color of wheat fluttering in a non-existent breeze and portal pulsing like a heart as she rests a hand on his head. 

“Well darlin’, I am asking if you would be open to adopting,” the Spirit laughs, the sound as familiar as the birds outside his window in the mornings. “Well, I suppose I could always ask your dear sister Arkham-” 

“No no, I would be honored,” Bludhaven smiled a literally sharp grin, something mischievous and violent about it in a way Danny was slowly growing used to. “I’m just- look at the little ghostling! He looks like he could be from ours! My hair, your eyes… he’s just missing markings…” 

“Markings he’ll get once you give me an answer darlin’...”

“OH- Yes, of course! Sorry, I got whelmed there.” 

“You have been stalking your vigilante a bit too much there Blud.”