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thebarontheabyss · 3 months ago

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Happy Halloween to all dead and alive patrons of TBOTA! 👻🎃

Sharing another entry from the archive update if you haven't tried it yet—one that is just perfect for tonight. All other entries are available in the menu or during Chapter 4 of the game!

Have a spooky-but-fun holiday, and see you in the Abyss! 🖤

The Last Recordings of Ibaria Kell’ani

——————▸ Recording 001:

Finally, got this thing working.

My name is Ibaria Kell’ani. I’m a field agent of the Extrarealmic Exploration Institute of Civitas. I was taken hostage by inhabitants of realm C520, for reasons I still can’t figure out.

We were ambushed just a few miles from the gateway right after we descended into the valley. Everything happened so fast.

I… I don’t know where the others are.

When I woke up, I found myself in this chamber. No sign of my team, no sign of my captors—just cold stone walls and… silence.

Shit. I need to think.

——————▸ Recording 002:

An hour has passed since my last recording. Finally managed to calm down.

Let’s see… the important details.

So I woke up in this lavish room, not exactly what I’d call a cell. It’s... unsettling. The bed is large, almost too comfortable, with golden embroidered sheets and a flowing canopy. There’s a faucet in the corner, and a plate of fruit on the bedside table—perfectly arranged, by the way. Fresh, untouched.

Were I not a hostage, I’d give this place a five-star review.

There’s a large window overlooking the valley, and based on the view, I think I’m on the opposite side from where we landed. The elevation is dizzying. It’s way too high to climb down. I thought about making a rope from the bedsheets, but considering how far the drop is, I’d probably fall to my death.

So… let’s file that under Plan Z for now.

Oh, and the door to my room is wide open. Not locked. Not guarded. Just… opened.

I took a peek outside. There’s a huge corridor, stretching in both directions, but it’s too dark to see where it will take me. But I did see some ornate carvings running along the walls, the kind that would take lifetimes to craft.

What a strange prison cell. If that’s even what this is. I called out for my team, but the only thing that answered was my own voice, echoing back.

Nothing. No one. Just silence.

I think… I was hurt during the ambush. There’s a wound on my chest, right above my heart. I didn’t notice it at first—maybe I was in shock. But when I looked, someone had sealed it up. The stitching is crude, primitive. And yet, it doesn’t hurt.

In fact, it’s… warm to the touch.

I’ve been debating whether to leave the room. The open door feels like bait. Like part of some elaborate plan. This realm—C520—has already proven dangerous, and I’m not naive enough to believe my captors would forget to lock my door.

But it’s either that or the window. And I’m not ready to throw myself off a cliff just yet.

I’ll… I’ll keep you updated.

——————▸ Recording 003:

What is this place?

It took some self-convincing, more than I’d like to admit—but I did it. I went outside. Walked through the dark corridor, my flashlight shaking in my hand the entire way.

At the end of the hall, I found a sodden door. Behind it… there’s a worship chamber, or something that resembles one.

Oh, I should mention—my comm device. Still broken. Probably fried during the ambush. So, I’m left with my secondary recording device. It can’t do video, but I’ll keep doing these audio docs, so If anyone ever finds them…

You know, I should probably stop thinking about that.

Anyway, the chamber. It’s huge, like some sort of ancient monastery. Big statues, lined the walls, their faces obscured by time or maybe deliberate damage. I think they depicted warriors, or Gods–or both. Each statue was clutching something—heads. Humanoid heads, held like stone trophies in their cold hands. There were unlit candles scattered across the floor, and carvings covering the walls and ground. It all screamed of some kind of cult-like ritual space.

Wish Agent Joles were here. Her expertise in extrarealmic anthropology would’ve come in handy. I’m just a field agent—a grunt. I’m here to follow the experts, not to play investigator in a nightmare temple.

I wonder where the others are.

The chamber was cold, but the atmosphere was worse than the temperature. I tried to read the carvings, but without my comm device, I couldn't translate them.

There was no exit except for the way I came in, so after a while, I left. Honestly, the whole place gave me the creeps. Those statues… those heads. It felt like they were watching me as I walked away. I know that’s crazy. I know I’m probably just freaked out. But I heard rumours, about the things hiding in some of these realms.

Although, that won’t make sense, right? They scan every realm before expeditions. They check for dangers. And for safety measures, we had a whole squad of security guards. So… how did this happened, for Dominie’s sake? We were supposed to be prepared for some primitive inhabitants. What the hell happened?!

Sorry. Got carried away.

So, when I got back to my room, I downed some water from the faucet. I kind of hesitated before drinking it, but they wouldn’t poison it, right? I mean, there’s no point. They can do whatever they want to me. It’s not like a 5’4" field agent is going to pose much of a threat.

Actually, another thing I don’t want to think about right now.

I need to reassess. The sun—looks like it’s starting to set. I’ll head out again. Try to cover more ground.

Wish me luck.

——————▸ Recording 004:

Hello again. It’s morning already. I was so tired I fell asleep and forgot to record.

So… where do I start? This place is huge. And I don’t mean big in the normal sense—I mean *palatial*. A labyrinth of halls, corridors, and rooms. It took me more than two hours just to make a partial sweep, and I’m not even sure I’ve seen half of it.

There’s a throne room, of all things, sitting empty like its monarch left centuries ago. I walked past more than ten chambers—some grand, like mine, others more bare but still way too fancy to be normal cells. I found a grand hall, kitchens (complete with gleaming silverware and bowls of nothing), and long stretches of corridors leading to dead ends or locked doors.

All of it… deserted.

It’s like a whole kingdom got up and walked away one day, leaving everything behind. There’s no dust, no decay. Just vast emptiness.

No sign of my team, as well. Not a trace. Not a voice. The only sounds are my footsteps and my breathing. I tried the doors leading outside, but they’re all sealed shut, not even a lock or handle to work with. I think… the lock is on the other side?

After a while, I could feel another panic attack creeping up on me. But… I was too damn tired to let it happen. I didn’t have the energy to be scared anymore.

Instead, I stumbled back to my room, drained. The plate of fruit was still sitting there on the bed, so I ate the whole thing in one go. Honestly, I don’t even remember what it tasted like. It could’ve been cardboard for all I care. I just needed something in my system. Then, I collapsed onto the bed and slept.

When I woke up… the plate was full again. Back where it had been yesterday. Fresh fruit, arranged just as perfectly as before.

That’s when I lost it. I yelled—really yelled—until my throat hurt. Not because I was scared. No, I was pissed. Furious, actually. I don’t care what’s going on anymore. I don’t care what they’re planning or what they’ll do to me. I just wanted this stupid, endless suspense to end.

But no one came. No one answered.

No footsteps, no voices, no movement at all.

Nothing.

So here I am again, talking to this recorder like it’s a friend. I’ll… I’ll try another walk around today. There has to be something I missed. Maybe a door I overlooked. Maybe some clue that’ll help me make sense of this.

I can’t give up. Not yet.

My wound seems to be getting better. I mean, it’s not hurting anymore. Just… pulsing a bit. That’s weird, right? It doesn’t hurt, but it’s like there’s a heartbeat just beneath the skin.

I don’t know. It’s the least of my problems right now.

——————▸ Recording 005:

It’s been three days. I don’t think there’s a way out.

I’ve searched every inch of this damned place—every hall, every room, every shadowed corner. And as far as I can tell, the only real exits are the windows. I spent yesterday walking through even more fancy halls and ornate chambers, all just as grand and empty as the rest of this palace.

There’s also a garden, which… well, I have to admit was a nice break. I needed the air. But other than that… Nothing.

Every morning, the fruit plate on my bed gets replenished. I checked it this morning, waiting to see if someone would sneak in while I slept, but… no. No one. It’s magic. I saw it happen. The fruit just appeared, like it was summoned out of thin air.

That’s when I started thinking about Samir. If he were here, with his arcane knowledge, he’d probably be able to figure it out. Or at least, he’d have some theory. But Samir’s not here, is he? No one is. I’m alone.

Maybe someone managed to escape? Maybe all of them did. Maybe I’m the only one unlucky enough to be captured. Maybe… maybe the search parties are combing through the valley, following protocol, marking my absence on some cold, clinical report.

Either way, I need to be patient. I’m not in any immediate danger, right? No one’s tried to harm me, there’s food, there’s water, I’m not hurt… at least, not physically. I just need to keep my head on straight. Just be patient, Ibaria.

I had the strangest dream the other night. I was back in the chamber with the statues—the one with all those warrior effigies. It was snowing inside it—not just cold, actual snow falling from the ceiling. I remember watching it fall on those stone faces. And then one of the statues moved.

She was a woman, tall and armored, a warrior just like the others. But instead of standing there, frozen in place, she stepped down from her pedestal. She walked right up to me, took my hand, and kissed it. Her lips were cold. I could feel them, real as anything. And then she whispered, “It’s going to be alright.”

I thought about searching that chamber again, but honestly… I’m afraid to find her there.

I’m trying to stay focused, to keep some semblance of a plan.

So here’s what I’ve got:

- Plan A: Wait for rescue. Patience. Hope the Institute hasn’t forgotten me.

- Plan B: Try some of the locked doors. See if I can force my way through one of them. Maybe there’s something I missed.

- Plan Z: Jump out the window.

Let’s… hope it doesn’t come to that.

The wound on my chest is still there. It’s not hurting, but that pulsing sensation? Yeah, that’s still happening. Almost like it’s synced to my heartbeat. If I focus hard enough, I can feel it—this subtle thrum beneath the skin, warm, constant.

I can’t figure out if that’s a good or bad thing.

——————▸ Recording 006:

The others are dead.

It’s been two weeks since my last recording. Two weeks of silence. I had no reason to record. No purpose. I’ve just… wandered around this place. Lost, alone. Waiting, I suppose.

Until today.

I dreamed of her again. The woman from the chamber. She came to me every night, standing there in the snow, whispering things I couldn’t understand. But this morning… I didn’t wake up in my room.

I woke up in the chamber.

The cold stone floor was beneath me, and I could see my breath in the air, though I felt no chill. I bolted out of there, heart pounding in my chest. But something made me stop at the door. I turned back. I don’t know why. Maybe it was instinct, or maybe I couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something I’d missed.

I searched the chamber again, behind the statues this time. That’s when I found it.

A door.

It was hidden behind a statue. The door was ice-cold to the touch, frost curling along the edges, but I didn’t hesitate. I pushed it open and stepped inside.

And that’s when I found them.

My team.

What’s… what’s left of them.

Their bodies were frozen in place, scattered across a huge, cavernous room. Catacomb-like, the walls were encased in thick ice, but I didn’t feel the cold. It was like the air had been sucked out, leaving only silence, death.

Their chests were split open. Not torn or clawed at—opened. As if something inside them had burned its way out. The skin around their wounds was charred, blackened, but the rest of their bodies were pristine, preserved in the ice.

I found the professor. Sylvia.

She was my mentor. I’ve known her for years. She always had this calm, steady look about her. But now… she looks terrified. Even in death, that fear is etched into her face.

But they weren’t the only ones in that chamber. There were others. Other bodies. Explorers, I think, judging by their clothing. But not just from Civitas. No… these people were from other realms. The styles of their uniforms, the equipment scattered around—it was all different. But their fate was the same. Chest opened, frozen in ice. Like something had devoured them from within.

And then, at the center of it all, a circle of bodies.

My captors.

They were arranged in a circle, lying in perfect formation, like some kind of ritual. All of them dead. I think they poisoned themselves. There was an empty bottle in the middle, the liquid long gone. It didn’t make sense, none of it makes sense.

And at the end of the room I found… her. The statue.

The bronze woman, the one from my dreams, her form still and cold. Covered in ice, just like the rest of the chamber. But there was something about her. She wasn’t just another statue. I could feel it. Like she was watching me. Waiting.

I ran. I couldn’t take it anymore. I bolted back to my room, slammed the door behind me, and collapsed on the bed, my mind racing.

Before I left the chamber, though, I grabbed something—Sylvia’s log. Her personal notes. I’ve been combing through them ever since I got back, trying to make sense of all this.

The final entry… it must have been written just before everything went wrong. It says: *“Someone has interfered with the gateway. We are in the wrong place.”*

I don’t think anyone’s coming for me.

——————▸ Recording 007:

It’s snowing outside.

The valley is white, pristine. It’s been snowing for two days now—relentless, endless. Everything is buried beneath it. The world is so quiet.

There was once an empire here. A pantheon of warrior-gods who ruled this realm. They waged wars—horrible, unending wars. So many dead. Gods and mortals alike. We’re so similar, aren’t we?

And she… she needed someone to save her. Someone to carry her. Not all mortals are capable, she told me. She needed someone who crossed the realms, absorbing void energy. But even then, some… can’t take the weight.

So she had to try, again and again.

I’m… I’m not in control of myself anymore. I wake up in places I don’t remember going to, sleepwalking through this palace. I feel tired all the time, like there’s a weight inside me pulling me down. But she said it’s alright. It’s all part of the process. The cold is everywhere now, but she says my warmth will sustain her.

I was just a field agent. I wasn’t special. I wasn’t important. But she told me I am. I will be. I was the only one who mattered. This place—it’s been waiting for me. All of it. The halls, the statues, my throne. Waiting for me.

To take back my realm.

To lead my people to victory.

To be the war, the snow, the cold.

The wound on my chest—it's healed now. It closed days ago. I feel stronger. Clearer. More… whole than I’ve felt in a long time. I thought I’d lost myself, but no. I came back through.

Thank you, for your sacrifice. It won’t be in vain. You gave me the strength I needed. The strength to do what must be done.

I will take back what’s mine.

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pomodoriart · 7 months ago

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finished!! billygibson cuddle pile fuck yeah

lil details:

-billy’s pants are too short for him cause hes so tall. he also embroidered stars n stuff on there. maybe he was thinking of like siblings back home

- salve for hickey’s bum in upper right corner

- hickey’s kind of in a state of shock re:ring and is extremely pleased

- red heart string tangled about their legs b/c they got tripped up in each other and their relationship is… Complex might be a good word

- gibson read to hickey till billy fell asleep. it was very cute

- silverware and rope :)

please do not repost or remove caption. silly tags always appreciated!

#pomodoriart #fanart #digital #the terror #the terror amc #billy gibson #cornelius hickey

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paishoeyeroh · 27 days ago

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Bearer And The Bound

☰ Pairings: Sukuna x Reader, Slight Megumi x Reader

✧ Summary: When you stumble upon an ancient ring in an abandoned house, you unknowingly bind yourself to a cruel, powerful demon who thrives on torment. Trapped in a reluctant bond and forced to navigate a shared existence, Sukuna plots your downfall while you fight to survive his sadistic games. But as your fates entwine and secrets of Sukuna’s dark past begin to unravel, the lines between enemy and ally start to blur.

✧ Tags: True form Sukuna, Enemies to Lovers, Dark Romance, Demonic Bonds, Heavy Angst, Slow Burn, Sukuna is Bad at Feelings, Possessive Sukuna, Tension, Forced Proximity, Eventual Smut, College/University AU, More Tags To Be Added Later

✧ Status: Ongoing

✧ You can also read it on AO3

☰ CHAPTER FOUR: Echoes of the Past

Chapter Summary: You dream. Sukuna remembers.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The air around you is suffocating and heavy as you find yourself standing in what appears to be a decrepit shrine, one that seems both ancient and wrong. The wooden pillars supporting the structure are cracked and splintered, yet they exude a foreboding strength, as though they have borne witness to unspeakable acts. Tatami mats line the floor, but they are stained and frayed at the edges, as though time and blood have worn them down. Hanging from the rafters are tattered shimenawa ropes, their once-sacred paper streamers yellowed and torn. Flickering lanterns cast long, trembling shadows against the wooden walls, and the faint scent of burnt incense mingles with the metallic tang of blood. The space is eerily silent, but it hums with an unnatural energy, as if the very air is alive and watching. You don’t recognize this place. And yet, something about it feels disturbingly familiar.

You take a tentative step forward, the sound of your footsteps echoing eerily through the empty halls. Ahead of you, dim light spills through the bottom of a doorway. As you approach, you notice something to your right. Another person, standing just on the edge of the hallway.

It’s a woman. Her cool white hair falls just beneath her chin, shimmering faintly in the warm light. Her luxurious white robe flows like silk in the soft breeze coming in through the open windows, and it’s embroidered with ancient symbols that tug at something in the back of your mind. You realize they’re the same symbols you’ve seen on Sukuna’s robes.

Her beauty is undeniable, but there’s something off about her behavior. Her hands are clasped tightly in front of her, her knuckles pale as though she’s holding on to one another for dear life. Her lilac eyes are wide with a mix of fear and… anticipation, perhaps? There’s a nervousness in her stance that makes you pause in your approach to the door.

She looks behind her then, down another hallway that you can’t quite see from where you’re standing. Just then, a man saunters toward her, his steps slow but purposeful, exuding an air of undeniable authority. His robes, layered and flowing in rich crimson, catch the flickering light of the torches, the heavy fabric gleaming faintly as though it holds secrets of its own. Gold embroidery winds through the silk in intricate, almost otherworldly patterns, drawing the eye with its hypnotic shimmer. The details are too deliberate, too precise to be anything less than a declaration of power. Beneath the crimson, darker layers peek through—shades of black and muted gold that add an edge of foreboding to his otherwise regal appearance. The fabric moves fluidly with each confident step, as though it’s as much a part of him as the air he commands. He looks like someone who commands not just respect, but fear.

As he comes closer into your view, you glance at his face, and the realization almost takes your breath away.

It’s Sukuna.

But it’s not the version of him that you know. He’s… human.

The demon you’ve grown accustomed to is gone. His extra set of eyes and arms are nowhere to be seen, although his tattoos remain the same. He’s much shorter now, but as he reaches the woman before him, you notice that he’s still quite tall as he towers over her. He’s not the creature you’ve come to fear; instead, he’s a man—confident, commanding, but undeniably human. It’s so jarring to see him in this form that you can’t do much else but watch the scene unfold. What’s especially surprising, though, is how he reacts to the woman now standing before him.

His usually sharp gaze softens when it lands on her. There’s a warmth in his eyes, a tenderness that radiates through the air as he assesses her. His lips curve into the faintest hint of a smile, one that softens the hard lines of his face. As he steps closer, he reaches out, his hand gently brushing her arm, and you think you can almost feel the depth of his affection in just that one simple touch. You can see their mouths moving as they exchange words, but you’re not close enough to make them out.

The woman stands tensely, her hands still clasped in front of her, trembling ever so slightly. Though her face remains calm, you can see the uncertainty there. She forces a smile at him, though it doesn’t reach her eyes. She steps toward Sukuna, her body leaning into his touch, but there’s a stiffness in her movements. She’s avoiding his gaze, her eyes darting around the room before briefly returning to his.

Sukuna doesn’t appear to notice, or perhaps he chooses not to. His hand continues to hold her arm gently as he speaks to her. The air between them crackles with unspoken emotion, but beneath it, you can sense a growing tension, an undercurrent of dread that clings to your skin like frost.

Suddenly, everything around you moves and blurs, pulling you to your hands and knees. You steady yourself, and once the world begins to clear once more, you notice you’ve been thrust into chaos.

You find yourself in what must be the main hall of the shrine. The towering wooden beams above stretch into shadow, their intricate carvings of oni and dragons now partially scorched, as though licked by flames. Tatami mats lie in tatters, soaked with blood, and the faint smell of incense still lingers beneath the overwhelming stench of death and smoke. The once pristine hall now bears the scars of battle—splintered wood, shattered lanterns, overturned offerings. In the center of it all stands Sukuna, his human form unmistakable as it towers over the rest, drenched in the pale, golden light of the dying sun streaming through the halls shattered screens.

Around him, an endless amount of attackers swarm, faceless in your haze but undeniably lethal. Each one charges with blades, spears, and halberds gleaming in the light, their movements coordinated and merciless. Yet you’re beginning to realize Sukuna is no ordinary man. His body twists and turns with terrifying precision, his movements fluid yet unrelenting, like water crashing into rock. He meets every strike head-on, parrying with bare hands or seizing weapons mid-swing to redirect their force. A halberd slashes toward his throat, but he ducks in a flash, spinning low to sweep the legs of his opponent. As the man crumples, Sukuna is already pivoting, his fist crashing into another’s jaw with a sickening crack.

He fights like a man possessed, an unstoppable force that refuses to yield. Each move is deliberate, calculated, and impossibly fast. The hall becomes a blur of motion, his robes billowing as he dodges and strikes, flowing behind him like a banner of war. Blood and gore splatter across the floors as he crushes the head of an attacker, making your stomach lurch. For a moment, it feels as though Sukuna will win, will claw his way out of what appears to be a carefully laid trap.

Then, you see a flash of white, pulling your attention to the corner of the room. The woman from before. She stands on the periphery, partially hidden behind a scorched wooden column. Her posture is rigid, her hands tucked tightly into the sleeves of her robe, as if bracing herself. On the surface, her face is calm, emotionless, but the steady flow of tears carving paths down her cheeks betrays the truth. She doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, even as the chaos unfolds before her. Her gaze is locked on Sukuna as he fights, her hidden anguish a silent scream in the backdrop of destruction.

The tides turn when one of the attackers gets lucky. A blade plunges its way into Sukuna’s side, slipping between his ribs. He stumbles, and though he keeps fighting, his movements become slower, heavier. Another strike lands, this time a spear thrust into his shoulder, forcing him to his knees. Blood pools beneath him, staining the tatami mat a dark, vicious red. Still, his gaze remains defiant, his teeth bared in a snarl that could freeze the sun. He claws his way back to his feet for one last strike, but when another blade buries itself into his chest, it forces him to meet his end as he collapses to the ground with a heavy thud.

The woman finally moves. Her face twists for the briefest of moments, a flicker of devastation breaking through the stoic mask she’s worn. She turns away swiftly, her movements deliberate, her shoulders tense. As she walks toward the halls broken doors, she doesn’t stop, nor does she look back. The shadows swallow her whole as she exits.

Turning back to the scene before you, you notice a strange darkness beginning to envelop Sukuna’s lifeless body, a swirling mass of shadows that pulses and writhes like a living thing. The air grows thick and heavy, pressing against your chest, making it harder to breathe. The shadows continue to twist and warp around him, merging with his flesh, pulling him apart in ways that no human body was meant to endure.

You watch in horror as his skin ripples unnaturally, stretching and splitting as a second set of arms and shoulders begins to force its way out of his sides. The sound is sickening, a wet tearing noise that makes bile crawl its way up your throat. Blood pours from the wounds as the limbs emerge, their grotesque, skeletal forms twisting and flexing as if testing their newfound existence. His original arms grow thicker, his hands contouring into claws as his nails extend into razor-sharp talons.

His face is no less horrifying. The skin beneath his eyes begins to split, carving deep gashes along the tops of his cheekbones. You can only watch, paralyzed, as new eyes force themselves into his features, the raw flesh glowing with an unholy light. The sclera darkens, and the irises blaze like molten lava, twin flames burning with rage and pain. All four of his eyes snap open at once, their glow so intense it sears the image into your vision.

His body begins to expand, his torso elongating, his shoulders broadening, as his human proportions are twisted into something far more monstrous. His muscles bulge and strain against his tearing robes, his height expanding as his form rises impossibly. The sounds of his bones snapping and realigning reverberates through the room, a jagged, horrifying symphony.

And there’s the screams. Sukuna’s voice tears through the hall, a roar of pure, agonized fury that shakes the ground beneath you. It’s so raw and primal, a sound that comes from deep within, as though it carries centuries of torment and rage. It pierces through your very soul, leaving you trembling and frozen, unable to tear your eyes away despite every instinct screaming at you to run.

The darkness around him thickens, wrapping him like a cocoon before splitting apart violently, instantly killing the remaining attackers who were attempting to flee the shrine, their bodies falling to the floor in crumpling heaps. Sukuna’s monstrous form towers over them, his four glowing eyes locking onto you for the first time, and for a moment, it feels as though he actually recognizes you.

Suddenly, the walls of the shrine begin to crumble around you as the ground shakes.

Your eyes snap open.

You’re… back in your bedroom?

Wait.

All of that… was a dream?

Your eyes adjust to the darkness as you begin to try to comprehend what just happened. And then you feel it, the pressure, the oppressive weight of Sukuna. Slowly, you turn your head, and your heart nearly stops.

Sukuna stands there, at the edge of your bed, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. His four eyes blaze with a hatred so deep, so cold, it freezes the blood in your veins. His lips curl into a sneer as he stares at you with unrelenting fury.

“I didn’t give you permission to poke around inside my head.”

His voice is sharp, and terrifying. The rage that radiates from him is palpable, so thick you can feel it pressing down on you, crushing the air from your lungs.

You’ve seen him angry before, but this… this is something else. His entire body thrums with barely contained rage, his muscles coiled tight.

You shrink back into the mattress, trembling under the weight of his gaze. You want to speak, to say something, anything, but the words die in your throat, your voice trapped somewhere between fear and disbelief. Poke around inside his head? What does he mean? You had no control over the dream, no idea what you were seeing or why. But how could you explain that to him when you’re still reeling from what you��d just witnessed—the fighting, the transformation, the raw pain that now feels scorched into your soul?

His eyes burn into yours, searing through your mind as if he’s peeling back every layer, exposing every thought, every fear you’ve ever had.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and unbearable, yet you can’t look away from him. His jaw is locked tight as he stands above you, the muscles visibly straining, and his hands are clenched into fists at his sides, so tight that the veins running along his forearms bulge against his skin. His crimson eyes burn with an intensity that feels alive, glowing like four coals shoved into a pit and left to burn, betraying the raw emotion thrashing just beneath his barely composed exterior. Even his breathing, slow and controlled, seems deliberate, as if he’s reigning himself in with every passing second.

He leans in closer toward your face, the distance shrinking between you until it’s almost nothing.

“Remember this, little girl,” he spits, quiet but deadly, “you don’t know me. And if you keep digging, you won’t like what you find.”

Each word drips with venom, his voice low and deliberate, hitting like the sharp edge of a blade. It’s not the volume of his rage that terrifies you, but the quiet, calculated precision of it, the certainty in his tone that leaves no room for argument.

Your body is rigid, your mind a storm of emotions as he lingers for a moment longer. Then, Sukuna straightens, his fists still clenched, and without another word, he pivots sharply on his heel and strides out of the room. His steps are measured and heavy, fading down the hall until the weight of his presence finally lifts.

You release a shaky breath, your chest heaving as you try to collect yourself. Your hands tremble as you grip the sheets, your mind spinning a thousand directions at once.

What the hell is going on?

Your thoughts immediately dart back to the dream—or was it even a dream? It felt so vivid, so real. You can still feel the icy bite of the air in the shrine, the suffocating weight of the darkness, the nauseating crack of bones and the blood, so much blood. How could your mind have conjured up something so horrifying, so detailed, so personal? And more than that, how did Sukuna know what you saw?

It seems as though somehow you’d seen something you were never meant to see. Something from Sukuna’s past. But how?

Your gaze shifts to your hand, still trembling as you press it to your sweaty forehead. Was it the bond? Did it… connect you to him, in a way you didn’t fully understand? A flash of his furious eyes, the hatred and pain simmering just beneath the surface, flashes in your mind. Whatever it was, it was clearly something Sukuna didn’t want you to know.

You swing your legs over the side of the bed as you try to steady your pounding heart. There’s no going back to sleep now. Not with the weight of that dream, and Sukuna’s terrifying warning. You stand, though your knees feel weak, and begin pacing the room, replaying every detail you can remember. The woman in the shrine, the fight for Sukuna’s life, the transformation, it all feels too important to ignore. But what does it mean? And what does it have to do with you?

Above it all, one truth lingers. Sukuna wasn’t just angry tonight. He was afraid. Afraid of you seeing something so buried deep within him, something he’s been running from for what seems like centuries. And now you’ve glimpsed it.

You pause in the middle of your pacing, pressing your hands to your temples as though it might stop the swirling chaos in your mind. The echoes of Sukuna’s agonizing screams still ring in your ears, the vivid image of his broken body twisting into something monstrous burns behind your eyes. You squeeze them shut, willing the memories to fade, but they won’t. They refuse to.

For the first time in weeks, you feel utterly powerless. Not just because of Sukuna’s rage, but because of what you saw, what you now know you’re tangled up in. You collapse back onto the bed, your legs unable to hold you up any longer, and bury your face into your pillow. Exhaustion drags at your body, but sleep feels impossible.

And yet, as the minutes crawl by, the weight of it all eventually pulls you back under. Even as the memory of Sukuna’s screams haunt your dreams, you drift into an uneasy slumber, unsure of what tomorrow will bring.

And though you don’t yet fully understand what you saw, you know one thing for sure now. That was no ordinary dream.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The day after the dream, you’re still shaken, your mind replaying fragments of Sukuna’s transformation and his enraged response over and over again. It’s hard to focus on anything else, but you force yourself to keep busy, hoping to shove the unsettling memories to the back of your mind. When Megumi texts you, asking if he can come over to work on the group project for your shared class, you agree almost immediately. The thought of having someone normal around feels like a lifeline.

And lately, Megumi has been coming over more often. At first, it was just for quick study sessions or to finish a project, but recently, he’s started staying longer. Not that you mind. Quite the opposite, actually. With Sukuna keeping his distance—or so you thought until last night—it’s nice to have someone human around. Someone who isn’t probably silently plotting his next attempt to kill you.

At first, you didn’t think much of Megumi’s increased attention towards you. You’d always been closer to him than Yuji or Nobara, and his quiet and calm nature compliments yours. He’s been a steady presence in your life, the one who doesn’t pry or push too hard. But eventually, it’s hard not to see it for what it really is.

Megumi is worried about you.

And really, can you blame him? The way you’ve suddenly isolated yourself, always making excuses to avoid hanging out with the rest of your friends… you’d be surprised if none of them had noticed. And Megumi, perceptive as ever, has definitely noticed. Since you still refuse to leave your house unless absolutely necessary, he’s clearly decided to spend more time with you by coming to you instead, making sure you’re not alone. He’s seemingly trying to draw you out of whatever hole he thinks you’ve fallen into.

You really appreciate it, even if you haven’t been able to fully explain to him what’s been going on with you. But you have thought about it, many times. You’re just not sure what to say, you’re afraid of how he’ll react, afraid of how Sukuna will react. Most importantly, you’re afraid he won’t even believe you. But thankfully, Megumi doesn’t press you for answers. As far as he knows, you’re just… going through something. Something you’re not ready to talk about.

Although he doesn’t urge you to talk about it, you can still feel his quiet, unspoken worry that lingers in the spaces between your conversations.

Tonight, Megumi sits across from you at the dining table, textbooks and papers scattered between you. The quiet hum of the television you’ve put on as background noise as well as the sound of pens scribbling on notebooks creates a soft backdrop as the two of you work on your assignment. The silence between you is comfortable, familiar, but you’ve been feeling Megumi’s eyes linger on you more than usual for the past couple of minutes now.

After writing a few more notes, he glances up to look at you fully, and you return his stare, prompting him to say whatever’s clearly been on his mind.

“Look, I know you’ve been… feeling down lately,” Megumi begins, his voice hesitant, as if he’s searching for the right words. “And I’ve been wondering, does it have anything to do with… him?”

Your pen halts mid-scribble over your notebook, and you glance up at him, startled. The weight of his words settles between you, heavy and unexpected. “What do you mean, him?” you ask, your voice quieter than you intended.

He shrugs, leaning back slightly in his chair, his arms crossing loosely over his chest. “I don’t know,” he says cautiously. “It’s just… you seem different lately. Distant. It reminds me of how you were… back then.”

The unspoken name lingers in the air between you, and you look away, your throat tightening. Oh. That “him.” You haven’t thought about those days in a long time, or at least you’ve tried not to. The comparison stings, but you can’t blame him for noticing. Megumi’s always been perceptive, almost annoyingly so.

“I’ve just been busy,” you reply quickly, too quickly. “You know, school, projects, everything. It’s just a lot right now. That’s all.”

Megumi doesn’t look convinced. His gaze softens, his dark eyes steady and full of concern. “Maybe,” he says, his tone careful. “But if something else is going on… you can talk to me, you know. You don’t have to deal with it alone.”

You force a small smile, though it doesn’t quite reach your eyes. “I know, Megumi. Thanks. Really.”

He studies you for a moment longer, clearly not satisfied with your answer but unwilling to push further. With a small sigh, he leans forward again, gesturing toward your open notebook. “Alright. Let’s focus on this before we fail this assignment and really have something to stress about.”

Grateful for the change in topic, you nod, forcing your mind back to the task in front of you. But even as you scribble notes onto the page, Megumi’s words echo in your mind, stirring a mix of emotions you aren’t in the mood to face at the moment.

The silence stretches for a while, the two of you continuing to work on your project, but soon enough, your stomach starts to growl in protest.

“Are you hungry? I was thinking we could make some dinner.”

He offers a faint smile at that, chuckling softly. “Yeah, I could eat.”

You stand, moving to the kitchen, with him following close behind. The small, cozy space feels even smaller with both of you maneuvering around each other, but it’s not unpleasant. On the counter, you’ve laid out a mix of ingredients: bell peppers, zucchini, snap peas, garlic, and a bag of pre-cooked rice that Megumi insisted would make things easier. A bottle of soy sauce and a small jar of sesame oil sit to the side, ready to add some flavor. It’s nothing fancy, just a quick vegetable stir-fry, but it’s more than enough. As you prepare the meal side by side, the conversation flows more naturally, having moved on from the heavier topic earlier. You ask him how Yuji and Nobara have been while slicing the bell peppers, their bright reds and yellows adding some color to the cutting board, as Megumi crushes garlic cloves with surprising efficiency.

“Oh, you know Yuji,” he starts, “he’s always dragging Nobara and I into one situation after the other. Last week, we almost got kicked out of the library.”

You laugh at that, trying to imagine what the kid possibly could’ve done to warrant getting kicked out. “Classic Yuji behavior. What’d he do this time?”

Megumi lets out a long, suffering sigh, shaking his head as if the memory alone is exhausting him.

“He decided to build what he called the ‘world's tallest book tower.’” He looks at you, deadpan.

You pause your chopping, snorting. “Of course he did. And then what happened? How far did he get in his tower?”

Megumi lifts his eyes to the ceiling, like he’s trying to calculate the numbers in his head.

“Probably about… I don’t know, like seventy books? Maybe more. He had to stand on a chair at one point to continue stacking them. He was making a huge deal about balancing each one, trying to keep it steady. Like it was some kind of actual world record attempt.”

He shakes his head again, the faintest hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he remembers the chaos.

“So of course, Nobara starts egging him on. She kept trying to place a book on top just to try to knock the whole thing down, which obviously started an argument. Eventually, they started arguing about whether manga counts as a ‘book’, and while they were bickering-“

He pauses, giving you a flat look while sighing.

“-the entire stack came crashing down. Books everywhere. A couple of them hit other students. Yuji was trying to grab them mid-fall, like he was diving to catch a ball, but it only made things worse.”

You burst out laughing, picturing Yuji frantically trying to save the tower as the books went flying.

“That’s hilarious! What did the librarian say?”

Megumi shrugs, still clearly unimpressed. “She threatened to ban all of us. It’s not the first time he’s gotten in trouble there. Yuji apologized, said something about ‘pushing the limits of architectural genius.’ She wasn’t impressed.”

You shake your head, still laughing, as you resume chopping your vegetables. “Jesus. Yuji always manages to turn everything into an event. Never a dull moment with him around.”

Megumi turns to finish chopping his own vegetables as well, but you don’t miss the slight grin taking over his face. “And that’s putting it lightly.”

You fall back into a comfortable silence as you start cooking the food, the mood in the room being much lighter now. For a moment, things feel like they used to before Sukuna entered your life. Pleasant. Calm.

Just as you’re both sitting down on the couch, preparing to eat, there’s a slight shift in the air. Sukuna, who’s been conspicuously absent for most of the evening, suddenly makes an appearance. You glance up as he stalks past you, moving over to the bay window and sitting down, his gaze fixed on the outside world. His expression is blank, void of emotion as he pays you and Megumi no mind.

Megumi, of course, doesn’t notice Sukuna at all. He continues eating his dinner, oblivious to the fact that there’s someone else present in the room now.

As the two of you finish eating, you set your bowl on the coffee table before leaning back on the couch, attempting to relax despite Sukuna’s silent vigil. You look over at Megumi, offering a small smile.

“Wanna watch something?”

Megumi’s face brightens at the question, giving you a small nod. “Yeah, I’m down. Got anything in mind?”

You think about it as you stand up to clear the dishes. “How about a rom-com?”

As the movie plays, you can’t help but notice Sukuna’s subtle shift in posture. Before, he had been lounging on the bay window, his body angled toward the outside. Now, he faces the television, his gaze flitting between you and Megumi, sitting close together on the couch with your bodies pressed against each other, sharing the blanket, and the movie playing out on the screen. His eyes, sharp as ever, watch silently, though he makes no move or sound.

Megumi, blissfully unaware, leans further back into the couch, spreading out his legs on top of the coffee table and relaxing as the movie progresses. Though he’d admitted earlier that this genre wasn’t really his thing, he still let you choose the film. He’s warm beside you, his presence grounding, and you let yourself relax alongside him, enjoying the familiar comfort of having a friend by your side.

Just as one of your favorite scenes is approaching, you feel a sudden weight on your shoulder. You glance over, slightly startled, to see Megumi’s head resting gently against you, his eyes closed.

You pause, caught off guard, unsure whether you should wake him or let him rest. The weight of him pressed against you is calming, but before you can make a decision, the moment is interrupted by a shift in the atmosphere. The temperature drops significantly, making you shiver. You glance down and realize you can actually see Megumi’s breath fog out from his slightly parted lips in soft, rhythmic puffs, it’s that cold.

You sweep your eyes across the room, turning your attention back to the bay window where Sukuna is sitting. His posture looks deceptively relaxed, but his jaw is tight, and though his expression remains indifferent, it’s like there’s an edge to it, a storm brewing beneath the surface. His fingers tap once, twice, three times against his thigh before going still, curling slightly as though he’s resisting an urge of some sort. Your eyes trail back up to his, which are glinting with an intensity that feels too sharp for the dim lighting of your apartment.

Before you can say anything, Megumi’s head slides off your shoulder, jostling him awake. He blinks his eyes open, groggy and disoriented, as he rubs at his face.

“Sorry… I didn’t get much sleep last night,” he mumbles sleepily.

You offer him a soft smile, doing your best to ignore the icy weight of Sukuna’s stare. “That’s alright, I’ll rewind it for you.”

Reaching for the remote, your fingers brush against it as you prepare to rewind the scene. But before you can press the button, the entire apartment is plunged into darkness. The TV shuts off abruptly, and all of the lights blink out, leaving you both in the pitch black silence.

You gasp, startled, and Megumi shifts beside you, sitting up straighter as he glances around in confusion.

“What the hell…?” His eyes flick toward the window. “Does your power normally go out like that? It looks like it’s just your building.”

You shake your head, trying to keep your nerves in check. This doesn’t feel normal. It doesn’t feel like a power outage at all. The air is too thick, too heavy, like it’s charged with something unseen.

Your gaze shifts toward the bay window again. Sukuna is still there, his posture unnervingly still. His shoulders are rigid, and his hands flex slightly at his sides, fingers curling and uncurling like he’s barely containing something.

You can’t help but stare at him, your brow furrowing as you silently ask the question burning in your mind: Was that you?

His eyes flick toward yours, crimson and smoldering. For a moment, you think he might say something, but instead, he gives you an irritated look. His lips curl faintly, not into a sneer, but something more restrained, almost dismissive. Then, with a sharp roll of his eyes, he directs his attention back to the window. Slowly, he crosses all four of his arms over his chest, his movements deliberate, as though he’s forcing himself to stay put.

Megumi shifts beside you again, glancing back to meet your eyes. “Weird. Maybe your breaker tripped or something?” He sounds uncertain, his tone tinged with unease. The tension in the air is palpable.

You nod absently, still watching Sukuna from the corner of your eye. His silence unnerves you more than his usual biting remarks. Megumi sighs and stands, looking around the room. “Got any candles? We can use them for light.”

You shake your head, trying to act casual despite wondering why Sukuna is throwing what is essentially his own form of a tantrum.

“I don’t. But it’s alright, it’s getting late anyway, and we both have class tomorrow. You should go home and get some sleep.”

Megumi frowns, turning to face you. “I don’t feel right leaving you here alone without power. I’ll stay until it comes back on.”

As if on cue, the lights flicker back to life, flooding the apartment with warm, artificial light. You both jump slightly, startled by the eerie timing. Megumi lets out a small laugh, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, that’s creepy timing. I guess the lights want me to leave, huh?”

“Yeah, it’s like they can hear you,” you let out a nervous laugh, the irony of your statement not at all lost on you as you rub your hands on the tops of your thighs before standing from the couch.

You walk Megumi to the door, saying goodnight and closing it softly behind him. You turn to Sukuna, but his position hasn’t changed, his arms still crossed as he silently watches the people walking about in the street below him with his back to you. His back muscles tense ever so slightly as you approach him, his posture stiffening.

“Sukuna… did you…” you trail off, not sure if you should finish the question with the amount of unspoken tension in the room. You’re confused by his behavior tonight, but then again, you’ve never really been able to understand him since the day he first appeared. He’s always been unpredictable.

He responds without facing you, keeping his attention on the street outside. “Go to sleep. You’re getting on my nerves.”

You sigh, frustrated at his dismissal of you, but you know better than to push him when he’s like this.

“Fine,” you grumble as you start to retreat to your room. Just before the door clicks shut, you hear him mutter to himself, almost too quiet to hear.

“Pathetic.”

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

The quiet of your bedroom feels deafening as you close the door behind you, Sukuna’s cold dismissal still echoing in your ears. You lean against the door for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady your racing heart. Tonight has certainly been strange. You shake your head, trying to push the confusion aside as you crawl into bed. The warmth of your blankets offers little comfort, the events of the night still weighing heavily on your mind.

As you lie there, staring up at the dark ceiling, you try to piece it all together: Sukuna’s tension, the subtle yet undeniable shift in his demeanor. It’s not like him to act so… odd. You close your eyes, willing your thoughts to quiet down. Sleep doesn’t come easily, but eventually, the exhaustion takes hold, and the restless thoughts fade into the quiet pull of unconsciousness.

Suddenly, you find yourself walking down a beautiful, winding path, the world around you bathed in a golden glow. Tall trees arch gracefully overhead, their leaves shimmering in hues of green and gold as the soft sunlight filters through the canopy, casting dappled patterns on the ground below. The air is warm but carries a faint, cool breeze, bringing with it the sweet scent of blooming flowers and freshly turned earth. The path beneath your feet is made of smooth, sun-kissed stones, bordered by vibrant wildflowers that sway gently with each passing breath of wind. It feels serene, almost otherworldly, as though you’ve stepped into a painting of an idyllic summer day.

You walk beside a familiar face, one you’ve held and kissed many times before. It’s him. His hand is warm in yours, his thumb brushing softly against your skin in a way that always made you feel safe. He looks at you, his eyes filled with warmth and love, his lips widening into a beautiful smile that had always filled your stomach with butterflies.

You continue along the path, laughing and talking with each other, as if no time had passed. The world suddenly feels whole again. There’s no pain, no loss, just the two of you, together, walking side by side as if nothing had ever happened.

You glance up, frowning as the warm sunlight abruptly fades, plunging the world into a heavy twilight. The once golden leaves above wither and fall, turning brittle and ash-gray as they scatter around you like fragments of something long dead. The trees twist and contort, their once graceful trunks warping into grotesque shapes, their bark splitting open to reveal oozing, blackened sap. Their branches stretch unnaturally, becoming skeletal fingers that claw at the air, as if desperate to reach you.

The soft, sun-kissed stones beneath your feet begin to crack and crumble, the cheerful wildflowers at the path’s edges wilting and dissolving into black sludge. The ground shifts uneasily, jagged shards of stone erupting through the soil, leaving the path fragmented and uneven. A low, guttural groan echoes through the trees, the sound reverberating deep in your chest, chilling your blood. The air grows cold, biting at your skin, and carries the faint stench of decay and burning wood.

You look to the man beside you, but his face… his face has changed.

Where there was warmth, there is now something hollow, something empty. His eyes, once filled with love, are now cold, vacant, as if life has drained from him completely. His grip on your hand tightens painfully, his knuckles turning white, and when you try to pull away, he won’t let go.

The ground beneath you cracks open, revealing nothing but a dark, endless void. Your heart pounds in your chest as you struggle to break free, but he’s still holding on, dragging you closer to the edge. His expression remains eerily blank, but his lips part, and a whisper escapes—wet, gargling, and desperate, like it’s rising from the depths of water.

“Why didn’t you save me?”

The words strike you like a knife to the chest, your eyes widening in horror as his grip tightens further, his voice repeating the phrase, louder and more accusing.

”Why didn’t you save me?”

His face begins to distort, his skin turning pale and swollen, dark water dripping from his hair and mouth as his lifeless, glassy eyes bore into yours. His voice crescendos into a guttural wail, dragging you closer and closer to the crumbling edge.

You open your mouth to scream, but no sound escapes. The world around you is crumbling, falling apart, and you feel yourself teetering on the edge of the abyss. His grip on you is unrelenting, pulling you down with him into the darkness.

Suddenly, you’re falling.

You wake with a gasp, sitting upright in bed, clutching your heaving chest. Your body is drenched in a cold sweat, the nightmare still clinging to your mind. The image of his hollow eyes, so awful and void of life. It makes your skin crawl. It felt so real.

Tears prick at your eyes, and you hastily wipe them away, trying not to feel so overwhelmed by a dream. But then, your eyes adjust to the darkness, and you see him. Sukuna.

He stands over the end of your bed, his towering figure casting a shadow that seems to stretch endlessly in the dim moonlight. His four flaming red eyes burn with a predatory glow, and his lips curl into a smirk that drips with malevolence.

“What’s the matter? A little bad dream too much for you?” His voice is low, mocking, cutting through the silence like a blade.

Your chest tightens, the weight of his words as well as the nightmare you just had sucking the air from your lungs. Tears blur your vision, hot and unstoppable, spilling over before you can even try to stop them. You swallow hard, trying to push down the sob that claws its way up your throat, but your voice betrays you.

“Why…” you whisper, the word trembling as it leaves your lips. You force yourself to meet his eyes as you try again. “Why are you doing this to me?”

Your question hangs in the air, fragile and desperate, and for the first time, Sukuna’s smirk falters. His four eyes remain locked on you, but the mirth in them dulls. His body tenses, his shoulders stiffening as though he’s suddenly unsure of himself. His jaw tightens slightly, but he says nothing, the silence between you growing thick and suffocating.

“Answer me!” you cry out, your voice cracking under the weight of your emotions. “I asked you a question!” Your tone rises, desperate and raw, filled with a mix of fear, pain, and fury. “Why are you doing this to me? Is it just to hurt me? Why?”

Sukuna’s hands clench at his sides, his gaze flickering ever so slightly to the side, as if he can’t meet your tear-filled eyes for just a moment. His smirk disappears completely now, replaced by a shadow of something you can’t quite put a name to.

“Because it’s fun.” The words leave his mouth, but they lack their usual venom. His voice is softer, quieter, as if even he himself doesn’t believe his own statement.

The words cut through you like a blade nonetheless. You lower your head as your knees raise, crumpling in on yourself. Your hands grip your hair tight as you openly sob. You feel so small, so helpless, the weight of everything crushing down on you all at once. Is this what your life will be like from now on? Constant torment, never-ending nightmares?

You don’t know how long you sit there, shaking, crying into your hands. The room is so silent, you think he must have gone. His cruel taunts have stopped, and the oppressive feeling in the air has lessened. Slowly, you lift your head, sniffling and wiping your tear-streaked face with the back of your hand.

When you look up, Sukuna is still standing there.

He hasn’t moved, still standing in the same spot, still watching you, but his expression has changed. The amusement is gone, replaced with something else, something you don’t think you’ve seen in him before. It’s like there’s some sort of strange inquisitiveness in his eyes. You sniffle again, unsure of what to say, if you should say anything at all.

And then, Sukuna turns and rapidly walks out of your room, disappearing down the hallway.

You stare after him, eyes unseeing, as your mind replays the nightmare over and over again. The fear, the sense of loss, the dead look in your past lover’s eyes. The grief wraps itself around you like a heavy blanket.

You lie back down, pulling the blankets to your chin, taking deep breaths as you try to calm your mind. But it keeps going back to Sukuna. He’d mocked you, as always, enjoyed watching you crumble. But then, he had stopped. You think of the way his face had changed, it didn’t adorn the usual look of malice or sick amusement it always did. There was… something else, something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

Something almost like guilt.

You turn on your side, curling in on yourself as the look on his face lingers in your mind. Maybe it was nothing. It was dark in the room, after all, so maybe you’d imagined it. Maybe you just wanted him to feel guilty, for everything he’s put you through. You close your eyes with a heavy sigh. You have no idea what Sukuna is thinking, and at this point, you’re not sure if you want to know.

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

You stand by the stove, waiting for the kettle to whistle, the bubbling water filling the silence of your apartment. It’s been a couple of days since that night—since Sukuna forced you to relive your worst nightmare in vivid, haunting detail. Even now, the dream lingers in the back of your mind like a stain you can’t scrub away.

He hasn’t said much since then. Not a taunt, not a smirk, not even one of his usual barbed insults. It’s almost eerie, this quiet. You’ve caught glimpses of him from time to time, sitting on the couch, or perched silently by the bay window, staring out into the night like he’s lost in thought. The weight of his presence, once suffocating, now feels muted. Distant.

It’s not that you’ve forgiven him, far from it. Every time you think about the cruel satisfaction in his eyes that night, a bitter taste rises in your throat. But anger is exhausting, and you’ve grown tired of holding onto it. Besides, you can’t exactly avoid him. Whether you like it or not, he’s here. Always.

The kettle lets out a sharp whistle, snapping you from your thoughts. You pour the steaming water into a mug, dropping in a tea bag and watching the water darken as it steeps. Your gaze drifts toward the living room, where Sukuna is in his usual spot by the bay window. He hasn’t moved for hours, his massive frame bathed in the soft glow of the streetlights outside.

The silence in the apartment is oppressive, pressing down on you like a heavy weight. You hate it. You need something to fill the void. Before you can second-guess yourself, you grab your mug and head to the couch.

“Wanna watch a movie?” you ask, the words out of your mouth before you fully register what you’re saying.

Your heart skips a beat as Sukuna’s head turns ever so slightly, his crimson eyes catching yours. For a moment, you think he might ignore you, or worse, laugh in your face. But to your surprise, he shifts in his seat, fully turning to face you.

“Why would I waste my time watching something made for fools?” He replies coolly, his tone clipped but lacking its usual venom.

“Because you’re stuck here with me, and this fool just so happens to have great taste in movies,” you smirk at him, patting the couch next to you in a gesture to join you.

He watches you for a moment, quietly assessing you, his eyes flitting between your face and your hand resting next to you on the couch.

“Pick something that isn’t idiotic,” he says finally.

You blink, surprised by his response. He doesn’t sound angry. If anything, he sounds… bored.

“I literally just told you I have great taste in movies, obviously I’ll pick something un-idiotic,” you grumble, grabbing the remote and scrolling through the options.

For a second, you swear you catch the faintest quirk of his lips out of the corner of your eye, but when you turn to look fully, his expression has re-hardened.

Sukuna makes a show of dramatically striding toward the couch, as if against his will. He drops down onto the couch next to you, much closer than you’d expected. The proximity makes your heart beat a bit faster, but you force yourself to not outwardly react as you search for the movie you’d had in mind.

Then, to your surprise, Sukuna reaches behind him, grabbing the blanket that had been draped over the back of the couch. He spreads it over both of you. The action was so unexpected that you almost jump a little. He did it so… casually. You try to catch a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye, not wanting to be obvious and ruin the moment. He’s not looking at you, though, his attention is already on the screen, as if the gesture didn’t mean anything at all.

Still, you can’t help the small smile creeping across your face, a warmth spreading in your chest at such a simple yet intimate act.

“I picked one of my favorites, The Great Gatsby. It’s based on a classic novel.”

He doesn’t respond, but the slight nod of his head tells you he’s listening. You press play and let the movie begin.

As the scenes unfold, you find yourself relaxing, the tension slowly melting away. Sukuna, seemingly now back to being himself, makes the occasional odd comment.

“All this for one woman, just to gain back her love? Pathetic,” he says dryly, breaking the silence.

“Well, I think it’s romantic,” you reply, your eyes still glued to the screen.

Sukuna scoffs, his tone sharp. “If you need this much gold and alcohol to win someone’s attention, they were never worthy of you to begin with.”

You can’t help but chuckle at his bluntness. “I guess demons don’t throw parties, huh?”

His gaze slides to you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly. “I have no need to impress anyone. They all knelt before me without any of this.”

The weight of his words sinks in, and your breath hitches as an image flashes in your mind—Sukuna as you saw him in your dream, dressed in robes of crimson and gold, standing tall and commanding as though the entire world was his to control.

You swallow hard, the memory still fresh and vivid, as though you’d just woken from the dream moments ago. For a split second, you’re tempted to ask him about it, about what you saw, about who he was back then. But the thought of his furious reaction that night, of his burning eyes and barely contained rage, stops you.

Not now, you think. Not when he’s actually sitting here, watching a movie with you, acting almost normal for once. You don’t want to ruin whatever fragile truce this is.

So you force yourself to turn back to the screen, ignoring the knot of curiosity twisting in your stomach. “Fair enough,” you say lightly, hoping he doesn’t notice the strain in your voice.

Sukuna doesn’t reply, but you feel his gaze linger on you for a moment longer before it shifts back to the movie. You exhale softly, grateful the moment has passed.

Later on, as the movie shifts to one of its more pivotal scenes, you can’t help but add your own comment.

“Nick is kind of like the only normal one in this. He’s just watching everything fall apart around him.”

Sukuna’s eyes remain on the screen, watching the scene play out as he replies. “He’s not normal. He stands by while everyone else burns, pretending he’s above it all. He’s a coward.”

You snort at his dismissive tone, shaking your head, “You think everyone’s a coward.”

You look at each other, and you’re surprised by the flash of humor in his eyes. It’s brief, of course, but it’s there.

As the movie continues to play, you find yourself almost smiling at his sarcastic comments, enjoying the banter more than you’d expected.

For the first time since Sukuna entered your life, you feel completely at ease with him. The constant paranoia that usually lingers in the back of your mind has finally started to fade.

I think I’m actually… enjoying this.

The thought is as surprising as it is unsettling, but you push it aside to deconstruct later as the movie reaches its climax.

As Gatsby’s death scene unfolds, you feel the atmosphere in the room shift. Sukuna, who had been reclined slightly on the couch, suddenly sits more rigidly. His shoulders tense, and though his gaze remains fixed on the screen, there’s a faraway look in his eyes. The gunshot rings out, and you catch the faintest flicker of something in his expression—pain, perhaps, though it’s buried quickly beneath his usual stoic mask.

You don’t need to wonder why this moment affects him. You’ve seen it. The memory flashes in your mind unbidden: the dark hall, the jagged stone, the woman with the white hair turning her back on him as his life slipped away. The parallels are impossible to ignore. Sukuna’s jaw tightens as he looks away from the screen, and his fingers curl slightly where his hand rests on the arm of the couch. The tension rolls off him in waves, heavy and suffocating, and you feel a pang of guilt for even choosing this movie in the first place.

You clear your throat softly, hoping to break the silence as the credits roll. “Well, I guess we can add dramas to the list of movies you’ll never enjoy,” you say lightly, attempting to diffuse the weight of the moment.

Sukuna snaps his attention to you, his face slipping expertly into a look of mock disdain, any earlier tension in his face disappearing completely. “You’re assuming I enjoy any of this,” he replies dryly.

“You’ve been watching the whole time, haven’t you?” you tease gently, offering him a small, tentative smile.

Sukuna rolls his eyes but says nothing. You stand, preparing to head to bed for the night.

“Well, I’d better get off to sleep.”

As you begin to make your way down the hall, Sukuna stands and strides over to the window, his back to you.

You retreat to your room, but before you close the door, something compels you to turn back and glance at him one more time. Silhouetted from the faint glow of the streetlights outside, he seems larger than life, yet somehow smaller in this moment. His head is tilted just enough that you can see his side profile, his jaw flexing. There’s a heaviness in the way he stands, his usual sharpness softened. His shoulders aren’t as tense, and his expression—though hard to see in the near darkness—seems almost… melancholic.

The image stirs something in you, perhaps empathy. Or perhaps it’s just the weight of what you now know about him.

“Goodnight, Sukuna,” you say softly, your voice laced with a sincerity you hadn’t intended.

He doesn’t respond, but his hand twitches at his side, and you wonder if he even heard you.

As you softly close the door behind you and climb into bed, you can’t shake the image of him standing there, seemingly frozen in the shadows of his own past. You try not to dwell on it too much as you close your eyes, letting the soft rustle of wind lull you to sleep.

☰ Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

☰ Taglist: @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog

#sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #sukuna x you #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk angst #dark romance #slow burn #enemies to lovers #jjk fics #sukuna fic #sukuna angst #ryomen sukuna #bearer and the bound #true form sukuna #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x you

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call-me-chips · 5 months ago

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Do you ship anyone in sonic? If so who?

Also, all headcanons for Tails, my fav!

I don't really ship him with anyone, no. But ima give you my thought process:

I know Sonamy is technically the canon one, but that's straight, which means it's boring. Sonic has never really showed he's interested in her and quite often rejects her affection. And I know the creator said something along the lines of "He's just scared of his feelings and didn't wanna confess", but you'd think he would make ANY indication on if he loved her. I think they had something going on in Sonic Boom, but that's not canon

Sonadow is a ship that's canonly disliked by the characters, as shown in 1 or more Twitter Takeover Livestreams. Despite this, Sonadow is pretty much the only ship I see on Tumblr, so exposure to it has made me like it more than Sonamy, but I wouldn't say I ship it

Sonally was a thing in the early stages of the Sonic franchise, and it's canon in the comics that they get married and have a family, but since she was pretty much replaced by Amy and thrown to the back-burner, I feel like that ship has been nearly forgotten about

Now for the Tails headcanon:

You're really gonna sit there and tell me Tails DOESN'T know how to crochet? He absolutely makes beanies for all his friends that match their colour scheme/vibe. Sonic gets a blue and red striped one, Knuckles gets a red and white striped one, Amy gets a pink one with red hearts, and so on and so forth. He also adds little custom details on the hats. Sonic's has long, braided ropes on the bottom of his so he can fidget with them, Knuckles' has a big light green pom-pom at the top, Amy's is entirely pink with red hearts embroidered on it, Cream's has giant floppy bunny ears, etc.

He also made Eggman one for christmas that has tiny little sprites of all the members of Sonic's crew embroidered on the rim of the beanie. Eggman, although hating Sonic and friends, loves the hat and wears it every winter do his bald head is protected against the cold

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dalliansss · 6 months ago

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Hi :3 can you do for thingol/finwe this one “❛ i don't even remember why we started fighting. ❜”? 🥺

- @finwecandoit

&. 𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐬 (𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬?) 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

Elmo grew up in the household of his eldest brother Elwë, and his brother's husband, Finwë and their wife Míriel. When Elwë wed, of course, as was then custom in Cuiviénen, he'd moved out to establish his own house, and for a while Olwë and Elmo were left at their father Tinwë's household. Elmo and his brothers had many half-siblings, and since they were considered to be 'of age' to start hauling their weight in providing for the house, they were no longer priority in the rationing of food and supplies, which included charcoal for winter and pelts to turn into coats or blankets. Elmo had been too small to remember this exactly, but it had gotten so bad that Olwë had no choice but to bundle him up and go all the way across Cuiviénen to Elwë's home and ask that they be allowed to live again with their brother.

Finwë and Míriel, Tatyar though they are, were very kind. They allowed Olwë and Elmo into their home, and it is this home that Elmo grew up in. Times were tough of course, and they all went to bed every day with varying degrees of hunger, but their situation was better because they knew Elwë would never let them starve or abandon them.

Míriel, lady of the house, was soft-spoken with fine-skilled hands. She was a weaver and craftswoman of renown, and the works produced by her hand fetched hefty prices at Cuiviénen's marketplace, especially her embroidered kerchiefs and dresses. Even Great Ancestress Iminyë often commissioned her for dresses that took several moons to complete, fine things with even more delicate embroidery that to Elmo looked like a sprinkle of stars on cloth.

Elwë is the tempering presence in the house, Elmo observes. His brother reined in Finwë's more reckless and impulsive tendencies, and where Finwë is happy to forgive and forget, Elwë will respectfully question, point out why he thinks something is wrong and why the wrong should be remedied so it can be fixed up in the future and never be repeated again. Elwë is also the mediator-spouse; able to talk and listen freely to Finwë and Míriel's concerns, and he often made sure Míriel's worries reached Finwë and would not otherwise be ignored.

Finwë is the main provider, a hunter of great skill and respect among the Tatyar. He is also the friendly one, and the coddler -- he loved sparing treats and showering Olwë and Elmo with affection, and it is mainly thanks to him that Elmo grew up with lots of hugs and kisses. He kept the household happy and warm and welcoming and full of hope, Finwë.

They're a wonderful balance, the three. Elmo hopes that, once he grows up or is fortunate enough to, he can establish his own household with the same harmony his brother had with his wife and husband.

But like all households, things aren't always lovey-dovey. Today is a quarreling day, tense. Things had been tense since the being called Oromë was spotted by Finwë by the borders of Cuiviénen, and Elmo knew not all the details, but that this Oromë wanted to offer the Quendi a safer place to live in. Finwë, bless him -- ever malcontent with Cuiviénen and wanting a place where they can all be safe, glommed easily into the idea of this Oromë, much like Ingwë of the Minyar. Elwë wasn't easily convinced.

They quarrel quietly, Finwë and Elwë. They don't shout, but they do exchange curt conversation and replies, and glare at each other across the table. Elmo knows they do this keeping in mind Míriel's delicate state and his and Olwë's presence, but the past two days, the tension had been too great it was almost choking, and Elmo knew Míriel said some words to her husbands.

Elwë is presently by the lakeshore, mending his boat. Elmo stood close, holding rope and hammer and some nails for him as his brother worked in sullen silence.

"Elmo," comes Finwë's voice. "Help your nésa with the cooking, will you?"

Elmo looks up at his brother-in-law, glances at his brother still crouched and hammering away at the side of his boat. Ever the pacifist, Finwë is oft the one reaching first for reconciliation. Elmo nods, hands Finwë the rope and nails, and he goes obediently back to their house to help Míriel.

Finwë fidgets. Elwë stops his hammering and looks at him in silence. He fidgets some more. "I wanted to apologize--" he says. "You're right. You're right, I... I was just so eager to have a chance--. A new home, you know, Elwë? A safer home. For us. Míriel and your brothers...but, but, I know this is a big decision, and I recognize your call for temperance. That the Quendi should sit, think very hard, and discuss about this before we all go gallivanting in the dark, journeying west..."

Elwë pauses his repairwork. He stands. He is a head taller than Finwë, with darker skin decorated with the whorls and dots and spirals so valued by the Nelyar and given only to the most accomplished of their kindred, like warriors and scholars and leaders.

"I don't even remember why we started fighting," Elwë says, his tone matter-of-fact. "But I am glad you are seeing sense. I am not refusing help, Finwë. But i want the Quendi to make sure this 'help' is indeed what it is being offered. Not some trap for our people."

Finwë wrings his hands. His lower lip quivers, and he drops the rope and the nails as he surges forward and hugs Elwë with all his might. Elwë holds him in turn, rubs his back.

"I'm just so sick of death," Finwë whispers. "I want to lead all of us somewhere safe, where we can mind a house undisturbed, and Míriel doesn't stretch herself thin with grief, where she can be content and peaceful that she can finally nurture a child to term, give birth to a living baby--." He chokes on the words and cries. He clings to Elwë closer. He is decidedly the most emotional in the trio, Finwë.

"I know, Finwë. I know," Elwë promises. He kisses Finwë by the forehead, by the eyelids. "And I just want us, all of us, to be careful and sure."

#silmarillion #my drabs #finwë #elwe singollo #elu thingol #finwe x elwe #from cuivienen with love

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theroyalsims · 2 years ago

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QUEEN EMILIA STEALS THE SHOW IN HEAD-TO-TOE BUBBLEGUM PINK!

Anya who? Although it’s the Queen’s eldest daughter who’s been winning fashion polls left and right as of late, Her Majesty today reminded everyone where Anya learned the ropes!

The Queen had a major fashion moment during today’s special Mother’s Day service held at the Brindleton Abbey. The Royals (sans Eleanore and Ibrahim who reportedly stayed home with the baby) were all present for the occasion and were photographed leaving the abbey and heading to their awaiting vehicles.

The special service was led by the Archbishop of Brindleton himself, in honour and dedication to all the mums, Queen Emilia included! Our favourite royals were all smiles during the family outing and sources claim that the whole family gathered back at the palace after the mass for a special luncheon.

The whole Family looked great - for starters, the boys looked dashing and handsome in their suits. Prince Jacques who seems to age like fine wine, was all smiles and even proudly flaunted his “grandpa glasses.” Prince Alistair, who was seen laughing around with his younger brother Prince Nicky, also looked dapper his grey suit.

Meanwhile, Crown Princess Anya and Princess Ingrid looked lovely in their respective coat dresses. Anya opted for an embroidered powder blue coat, which happens to be a rewear, and paired it with a matching fascinator. Princess Ingrid, meanwhile, looked beautiful in her green dress, which complemented her stunning green eyes perfectly. The Queen’s youngest daughter finished off her look with a padded green headband.

But, undoubtedly, the true star of the show is none other than Her Majesty herself. The Queen looked perfect in a show-stopping bubblegum pink dress, which featured a midi skirt and long sleeves. The peplum detailing added some oomph to the dress, giving off a classic feminine silhouette. Her Majesty topped off her ensemble with matching pink heels and a hat. The Queen also delivered in the bling department, opting to add some shimmer with diamonds and pearls.

Not everyone can rock bubblegum pink, but The Queen owned this look, no question!

It’s always lovely to see our royals out and about, but there’s something extra-special about seeing the whole family together! Hopefully, next time, Eleanore, Ibrahim, and Little Lady Ella will tag along, too!

-----------

P.S.

Finally finished making this dress today! RL royal fans know that this is inspired by Queen Letizia’s pink coronation dress. What can I say? I’m a sucker for peplum!

#ts4 #theroyalsims #ts4 story #ts4 legacy #ts4 simblr #ts4 royals #ts4 royalty #ts4 royal family #ts4 royal story #ts4 royal legacy #ts4 royal cc #emilia #mystory

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appledew · 9 months ago

Text

This is Wolf!

Made for Shallwgrave on Twitter!

This plush is made with custom stained faux fur, faux fur, minky, and some custom painted buttons and rope trim. They stand at about 18 inches from the top of the head to the bottoms of the feet. Details on the face and legs were machine embroidered, as well as minor details in the accessories. None of the accessories are removable. The body and tail has armature to make them poseable!

Fun facts: The fur for the base body (the greyish light green?) was originally a lovely Blonde color. I dunked it in black paint to stain the fibers because heat dyeing the fabric would have destroyed the texture and length of the fur.

Thats one of the biggest facts i recall from this commission. They've been long sent to their forever home, but the catch up still continues. <3

--------------------------

Ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/appledew

Trello queue: https://trello.com/b/FZKSnMo7/plushie-commission-to-do-list

Twitter: https://twitter.com/AppleDew_

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/apple.dew

Tumblr: http://appledew.tumblr.com/

Furaffinity: http://www.furaffinity.net/user/appledew

deviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/appledew

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cozyhomebuzz · 2 months ago

Text

Exclusive Fresh cozy Boho Bedroom Ideas

Let’s explore these creative ways to infuse your bedroom with boho charm, starting with essential elements like statement wall décor and working our way through furniture pieces, lighting options, and those special finishing touches that will make your space uniquely yours.

Macramé Wall Hangings

Macramé wall hangings are the quintessential element of a boho bedroom, bringing texture, artistry, and organic beauty to your space. These intricately knotted pieces serve as stunning focal points while adding a handcrafted touch to your walls.

Key Elements of Macramé Wall Hangings

Natural cotton cord designs

Geometric patterns

Fringe details

Wooden dowels or driftwood mounts

Mixed textile combinations

Styling Tips

Layer multiple pieces of different sizes

Mix with other wall decor like mirrors or plants

Create an asymmetrical arrangement

Incorporate beads or shells for added interest

Position above the bed or in corner spaces

Size Guide for Placement

Wall SpaceRecommended SizeStyle ImpactAbove Bed36-48″ wideDramaticSide Walls18-24″ wideAccentCorners12-18″ wideSubtle

For maximum impact, choose pieces that incorporate natural fibers and varying textures. A large, statement macramé hanging above your bed can serve as an alternative headboard, while smaller pieces can fill empty wall spaces with bohemian charm. The neutral tones of natural cotton rope complement any color scheme while adding depth and visual interest to your boho bedroom.

Now that we’ve explored how to incorporate macramé wall hangings, let’s look at how mismatched throw pillows can add another layer of boho charm to your bedroom space.

Mismatched Throw Pillows

Transform your bedroom into a bohemian paradise with an eclectic array of mismatched throw pillows. This design approach celebrates individuality and creates visual interest through diverse textures, patterns, and colors.

Essential Pillow Combinations

Textured pillows (macramé, tasseled, or fringed)

Global-inspired patterns (ikat, tribal, or mandala prints)

Solid-colored velvet or linen pillows

Hand-embroidered or block-printed designs

Vintage or antique cushions

Color and Pattern Mix Guide

Base ColorsAccent ColorsPattern TypesEarth tonesJewel tonesGeometricNaturalMetallicsFloralNeutralsDeep bluesEthnicRustRich purplesAbstract

Styling Tips

Layer pillows from largest to smallest

Mix 3-5 different patterns while maintaining a cohesive color story

Include at least one solid-colored pillow to provide visual rest

Vary pillow sizes and shapes for dimension

Incorporate different textures to add depth

The key to successful mismatched pillow styling is maintaining balance while embracing imperfection. Choose pillows that share at least one common color to create harmony within the eclectic arrangement. Now that you’ve mastered the art of mixing throw pillows, let’s explore how vintage rugs can further enhance your boho bedroom’s charm.

Vintage Rugs

Vintage rugs serve as the foundation of any cozy boho bedroom, adding instant character and warmth through their rich patterns and lived-in appeal. Here’s why they’re essential and how to incorporate them effectively:

Key Features of Vintage Rugs for Boho Bedrooms

Natural fiber materials (wool, cotton, jute)

Faded colors that create a time-worn aesthetic

Intricate geometric or tribal patterns

Distressed details that add authenticity

Various sizes for layering possibilities

Placement Options

LocationStyle SuggestionImpactUnder BedLarge Persian or TurkishAnchors the roomBedsideSmall Kilim runnersAdds warmth to foot traffic areasLayeredMultiple smaller rugsCreates depth and visual interestWall HangingMedium-sized flat weaveDoubles as artistic statement

Styling Tips

Layer different sized rugs at angles for added dimension

Mix patterns while keeping a cohesive color scheme

Choose faded hues that complement existing furniture

Incorporate both geometric and organic patterns

Use rugs with fringe details for extra bohemian flair

Vintage rugs work particularly well when paired with natural textures and materials. The weathered appearance of these rugs creates perfect harmony with rattan furniture, which we’ll explore next.

Canopy Bed

Transform your bedroom into a dreamy bohemian sanctuary with a statement canopy bed. These ethereal sleeping spaces create an instant focal point while adding vertical interest and romantic appeal to your room.

Types of Canopy Beds for Boho Style

Four-poster bed with draped fabric

Wall-mounted crown canopy

Bamboo frame canopy

Macramé canopy

Natural fiber rope canopy

Styling Tips for Your Canopy Bed

ElementStyle SuggestionFabricLight, flowing materials like muslin or gauzeColorNatural tones or jewel-toned fabricsDrapingAsymmetrical or gathered stylingAccentsTassels, pom-poms, or beaded trim

Create layers of interest by mixing textures and fabrics. Start with sheer white curtains as your base, then add colored scarves or vintage saris for an eclectic look. For added boho flair, weave fairy lights through the canopy frame or hang small crystals from the corners.

Shop Reed Diffusers

Enhance your canopy bed’s ambiance with strategically placed reed diffusers. These natural fragrance dispensers complement the bohemian aesthetic while providing subtle aromatherapy benefits:

Place diffusers on bedside tables

Choose earthy scents like patchouli or sandalwood

Opt for glass bottles with natural reeds

Rotate reeds weekly for optimal fragrance

Now that we’ve created a dreamy canopy centerpiece, let’s explore how rattan furniture can further enhance your boho bedroom’s organic appeal.

Rattan Furniture

Rattan furniture serves as a cornerstone element in creating an authentic boho bedroom sanctuary. This natural material brings organic texture and warmth while maintaining a lightweight, airy feel that’s essential to bohemian design.

Popular Rattan Pieces for Boho Bedrooms

Rattan headboards – Statement pieces that create a tropical resort vibe

Side tables – Perfect for displaying plants and decorative items

Storage trunks – Functional pieces that add texture and organization

Room dividers – Creates intimate spaces while maintaining airflow

Magazine racks – Adds both functionality and decorative appeal

Styling Tips for Rattan Furniture

PlacementStyling SuggestionVisual ImpactBedsidePair with macramé wall hangingCreates layered textureCornerAdd trailing plantsEnhances natural elementsWindow areaMix with bamboo blindsCoordinates natural materialsRoom centerCombine with woven rugsBuilds depth and interest

To maximize the boho aesthetic, mix rattan pieces with soft textiles like chunky knit throws and vintage cushions. The key is to balance the structured nature of rattan with softer elements. Consider incorporating both light and dark rattan pieces to create visual depth and interest.

Now that we’ve explored how to incorporate rattan furniture, let’s look at how hanging chairs can add an extra layer of boho charm to your bedroom sanctuary.

Hanging Chairs

A hanging chair is the quintessential bohemian bedroom statement piece that instantly transforms your space into a dreamy sanctuary. These suspended seats not only serve as functional furniture but also create an artistic focal point that epitomizes boho style.

Types of Hanging Chairs for Boho Bedrooms

Macramé Swing Chairs

Rattan Egg Chairs

Woven Bamboo Pods

Cotton Rope Hammock Chairs

Wicker Pod Chairs

Styling Tips for Hanging Chairs

ElementStyling SuggestionCushionsLayer with textured throws and ethnic print pillowsHeightInstall 18-24 inches from the ground for optimal comfortLocationPlace in a corner or near a window for reading nookAccessoriesAdd tassels, fringe, or beaded curtains

Installation Considerations

Ensure proper ceiling support (rated for at least 300 pounds)

Use appropriate mounting hardware

Install into ceiling joists or use heavy-duty anchors

Consider swivel hooks for 360-degree movement

Leave adequate space for gentle swinging

The key to incorporating a hanging chair is creating a cozy corner that invites relaxation while maintaining the free-spirited boho aesthetic. Add soft textiles and perhaps a small side table for books or beverages to complete the setup. Now that we’ve covered this floating sanctuary, let’s explore how bohemian art prints can further enhance your bedroom’s artistic appeal.

Bohemian Art Prints

A key element in creating an authentic boho bedroom is incorporating vibrant and eclectic art prints that reflect the free-spirited nature of bohemian style. Here’s how to effectively use bohemian art prints in your space:

Types of Bohemian Art Prints

Mandala designs

Abstract botanical illustrations

Spiritual and mystical symbols

Desert landscapes

Celestial patterns

Ethnic and tribal motifs

Psychedelic artwork

Gallery Wall Arrangement Ideas

StyleDescriptionBest LocationSymmetricalUniform spacing, aligned framesAbove bed or dresserOrganicRandom arrangement, mixed sizesAny large wall spaceFloor-to-ceilingVertical arrangementNarrow wall sectionsClusteredTight grouping of framesCorner spaces

Art Print Selection Tips

Mix different sizes and orientations

Choose complementary color schemes

Combine vintage and modern prints

Include at least one oversized statement piece

Layer prints with other wall décor

Use both framed and unframed pieces

Select prints with natural or earthy elements

The right combination of bohemian art prints can transform your bedroom into a personal gallery that captures the essence of boho style. Now let’s explore how patterned bedding can complement these artistic elements to create a cohesive look.

Patterned Bedding

Patterned bedding serves as the centerpiece of a bohemian bedroom, creating a vibrant focal point that sets the tone for the entire space. Here’s how to make it work:

Essential Elements

Mandala prints

Geometric patterns

Floral motifs

Mixed textile patterns

Layered designs

Pattern Combinations for Boho Bedding

Base LayerMiddle LayerTop LayerSolid sheetsGeometric duvetEmbroidered throwStriped sheetsFloral comforterTextured blanketPrinted fittedTribal patternsKantha quilt

Styling Tips

Mix patterns of different scales

Large-scale prints for duvet covers

Medium patterns for sheets

Small designs for pillowcases

Color Coordination

Choose 2-3 dominant colors

Add 1-2 accent colors

Include neutral tones for balance

The key to successful boho bedding lies in layering different patterns while maintaining a cohesive color story. Start with a bold duvet cover featuring ethnic prints or paisley patterns, then add complementary sheet sets with smaller-scale designs. Top it off with throw pillows and blankets in varying textures and patterns.

Now that your bed is a stunning bohemian masterpiece, let’s explore how vintage trunks can add both storage and character to your space.

👉Full Article

#home design #home decor #bohostyle #bohochic #bohobedroom

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