#lowkey true

[miricuss]

[evansbby]

ari would not be able to compute with the fact reader slept with someone who wasn't him. either he bolts or he delulu himself into thinking the baby is his

😂😂😂😂😂

[thnks--fr-th-vnm]

i understand why he wore this damn jacket all the time now..

[half1spin]

I wish you could see yourself how I see you

[wykonii]

Bracelet making class

[raevulsix]

“Tech is gone. I am what remains.”

WIP version

Come join our discord community. ✨

[accirax]

💙❤️Blind Date or Die Episode 2, Starring Eden, Kai, David, Ingrid, Hu, Wenona, Arei, and Desmond!💙❤️

[thequeenofcurses]

Wounds Without a Name

True form Sukuna x f!Reader

summary: local villagers beg heian era sukuna to help them in a war. he refuses, so you decide to help them yourself (angst) words: 3.6k

context: so I was listening to music at work and this song came on and it really reminded me of sukuna's story. I def recommend checking it out! Also wanted to shout out this art piece by @xxnghtclls because it also gave me some inspiration for this.

tw: blood, war, death, angst, true form sukuna, heian era, established relationship. it's my first time ever writing TF kuna so plz don't be mean 😭

masterlist | jjk masterlist

The battlefield was littered with bodies. Left. Right. Forward. Anywhere one could look, their eyes would feast upon a massacre. Broken bloodied weapons on the ground. The faint echoes of groans from wounded survivors. With heavy losses on both sides, it was nearly impossible to tell which side won. Most bodies were unrecognizable from either the missing limbs or the burnt to crisp corpses.

The battle had drawn out into the night, the sun just starting to peak through the sky. The red-orange light forcing a calmness over the unpleasant sight. 

He urged you not to go. 

“Let them fight their war, woman,” Sukuna once grumbled, sitting on his throne. His head was lazily rested atop one of his four hands, yet his lower set of eyes never left yours. You stood right by his side, as you always had the past few months. “Their matters don’t concern us.”

“I cannot stand idly by while they massacre children,” you chided back to him. “If you won’t help them–”

“I said no!” he shouted. You didn’t flinch, even though everyone else on this planet would have. Sukuna may have never said those cursed magical three words, but you knew how he felt about you. Knew he would never truly harm you. Knew he treated you differently. Knew he let you get away with too much. “We’re not going.” He rose, then gave you an annoyed side-eye, before his stomach grumbled. “Uraume!”

“Lord Sukuna?” they immediately appeared to his side, bowing.

“Prepare our dinner.”

“Yes, Lord Sukuna.” The white-haired monk vanished, as quickly as they had appeared. 

The royal kitchen bustled with servants searching for the ingredients Uraume requested to prepare dinner. Their instructions were quite specific as you had been feeling quite ill this last week. Or was it two weeks? Going on three? As skilled as Uraume was with reverse cursed technique, even they couldn’t pinpoint what was constantly making you feel so unwell.

Your stomach ached, craving a snack in the meantime before dinner is prepared. Unfortunately, your heart also ached while you thought about the people who were just in the throne room, weeks ago, begging Sukuna for his help.

“We will offer you anything, please–” the elder couple were bowing, heads touching the floor, as they begged for salvation. “Our enemy village is attacking us. They’re killing our men. Taking our women, our children.”

This was typical. Commoners from all over the land often came with offerings for Sukuna for something in return. If their offering wasn’t good enough, they’d often leave severely injured, if they were lucky to survive a cleave attack. That was what you were used to. But never had anyone yet, begged to save their children.

You couldn’t tell what it was, but something about this elderly couple’s begging tugged at your heartstrings. Children, the children. 

To your knowledge, Sukuna did not want any offspring, yet you were too afraid to ever ask him that question. You may be his favorite, but that doesn’t necessarily mean he will change for you. 

Week after week, different people from the elderly couple’s village came begging for deliverance. Each update was worse than the last. At first the enemy were only taking the children, now they’re killing them and everyone they get their hands on.

Regardless of how bad it got, Sukuna still refused to aid them.

The children. 

The children! 

Your heart ached day after day until you finally imploded.

“Uraume!”  Sukuna shouted. “Prepare our dinner.”

Sukuna soundlessly started the walk to his private chambers, disrobing on the way there. He paused, turning his head to make sure you were following. 

“I’ll be right there,” you called out.

He grunts, then continues his venture towards his room.

Although you've been sleeping in Sukuna’s chambers for quite some time, you still had your own room, where your clothing and personal items were kept. You quickly make your way to your boudoir.

The rain pattered softly against the window, but the storm inside your chest raged far louder. You sat on the edge of the bed, staring at your hands; hands that had done nothing but remain idle, sheltered under Sukuna’s protection, while others suffered. The weight of your inaction pressed heavy on your ribs. How many lives had been lost while you stayed here? How many more would die if you did nothing?

But leaving… it wasn’t just about sneaking past Uraume and the other servants or enduring Sukuna’s wrath. It was about what you would be throwing away. The safety. The stability. The certainty that, no matter what happened, you would always be protected under his reign. Sukuna doesn’t make promises, but you knew, with an unshakable certainty, that as long as you remained his, no harm would ever come to you.

And yet, you couldn’t stay.

You pressed a trembling hand against your stomach. A strange nausea had plagued you lately, but you’ve chalked it up to anxiety, to sleepless nights spent debating this very decision. If you left now, there would be no turning back. If you stayed… you might just drown in regret, knowing you had chosen yourself over the helpless.

A memory surfaced, unbidden. Sukuna, standing over a battlefield, blood splattered across his face, grinning. The bodies of men, women, even children, crumpled in his wake. And yet, that same bloodstained hand had once brushed your hair from your face with an almost unbearable gentleness.

He was a monster. But he had never been a monster to you.

Would that change when he found out what you had done?

With a deep breath, you rose to your feet. Back and forth, you pace your room. Thoughts of innocent children being slaughtered fill your mind. Death was something anyone close to Sukuna was forced to get used to. But Sukuna often killed people whom (for the most part) he had a reason to kill – if annoying him counts. Innocent children though? You’re not sure if you can let that go.

You had learned a thing or two about your technique from Sukuna and you often watched him and Uraume train together. With that knowledge and your little secret practice sessions with Uraume, you for sure could help those people.

You made your decision. You had to do something.

Sukuna usually bathes right before or after dinner and considering he was walking around naked when he left you, there's a good chance he's in there right now. 

You decide to change clothing, putting on a thicker, but looser kimono and closed toed footwear, then head for the kitchen.

You peek in through the door, seeing Uraume slice up different meats. No doubt some of it was fresh “offerings,” from those village people. Aside from them, the kitchen was empty.

You noiselessly push open the door to slide into the kitchen. If all goes according to plan, you’ll be able to help the village. 

You walk in, feigning extreme hunger. 

“Y/n?,” Uraume questions, eyes narrowing. “Has something happened?”

“No–” you respond a little too quickly. “Uh, Sukuna just wanted me to check on dinner. He was growing rather impatient.”

Uraume frowns, but speeds up their chopping. “Supper will be ready soon. Though, he often doesn’t send you, as his messenger.”

“I too, was growing rather hungry…” you rub your belly, hoping Uraume believes you.

“Well it won’t be much longer,” they nod their head back towards the door. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

“Wait, please–” you start. You walk closer, slowly, so as not to alarm them. “Those villagers that have been coming in lately…”

A silent stare, urging you to continue.

“I want to help–”

“No.” They turn away from you, gathering more herbs.

“Uraume, you must understand,” you take another step closer. “They’re killing children. And if I recall correctly, Sukuna mentioned he found you as a child.”

Uraume sighs, adding the meat to a boiling pot of water.

“I have been practicing my technique like you’ve shown me. I can fight. I can help them.”

“Lord Sukuna would never allow it,” Uraume finally faces you again. “If he knew I permitted you to leave, he would be enraged. It’s too dangerous.”

“Hmph,” you scoff. “Well that’s why I’m not asking.” Uraume’s eyes open wide at your bold statement. For the first time ever, they were truly shocked and flabbergasted. “I just need a weapon. Please.”

The determined look in your eyes was unwavering. You stared Uraume down with the confidence you gained from continually standing by Sukuna’s side.

Another low sigh. “Fine,” they surrender. “But I will have no part in this. We never spoke tonight. You were never here.” If that’s what it takes. You nod and follow them toward the training area of the shrine. As inaudible and quick as a ninja, Uraume slips into the room, then seconds later, returns with exactly what you need.

A twin pair of sai. You’ve practiced them on tree trunks and crows, but never a living human before. First time for everything. You place the weapons in your belt and tighten it along your waist for security.

You turn to nod to Uruame, a sign of thanks, but they're already gone. 

The village under attack was only nine to ten kilometers from the shrine. You could get there within a couple hours.

You left with a small smile on your face. You'll deal with Sukuna’s rage whenever you get back. You're just glad you finally can use your newfound abilities for something meaningful.

The night air was crisp as you stepped beyond the safety of the shrine’s walls. For months, you had lived under Sukuna’s rule; his protection, his dominance, his affection. But tonight, you walked forward with nothing but your own will guiding you.

You knew the risks. Sukuna did not tolerate disobedience, not even from you. He would be furious when he found out, and his wrath was not something to take lightly. But you would endure it, because you could no longer sit idly by while innocent children were slaughtered.

The path down the mountain was steep, but you moved quickly, your grip tightening around the twin sai at your waist. The weapons felt both foreign and familiar in your grasp. The deadly tools that you had trained with in secret, yet never wielded in true combat. But there was no room for hesitation now.

You would fight. You would protect. And when the time came to face Sukuna’s judgment, you would stand tall, knowing you had done what was right.

One minute. Five minutes. Ten minutes! Where the hell is this woman? His woman.

Although, Sukuna was much too arrogant to say that to your face. 

He sat in the bath, eyes closed, relaxing. Or attempting to relax. It was very rare he wasn't in the same room as you for very long. Besides, what could you possibly want to do aside from being with him?

It was going on twenty minutes and you still had him waiting. How terribly annoying.

Within moments a servant came knocking on his door. 

“Lord Sukuna, Uruame has finished your dinner. Shall you and Lady y/n be eating in the dining hall?”

“Just bring it here,” Sukuna mutters.

Sukuna stands, the water cascading down his naked muscled form. 

The same servant returns with two hot plates of food. They place the plates down on the table near the bed, all the while never looking up.

As they go to make their exit, Sukuna stops them with a wave of his hand. 

“You there,” he started. Not like he needs to know anyone's name aside from you and Uruame. The servant freezes, her body visibly shaking. “Where is y/n?" 

“I- I-,” she stuttered out. Their teeth clattering together. 

“Spit it out.”

“I do not know. Uruame instructed me to deliver your meal since they had business to attend to.”

“Tch,” he reaches for the nearest long cloth to dry himself off. “Get out.”

Maybe you were upset at him that he yelled at you today. It was rare he ever got vexed with you, annoyed – very often, but genuinely irate? No.

Sukuna lazily throws on his yukata. The aroma coming from both plates smelled divine. Uraume never seems to miss when it comes to cooking.

It felt odd… Having dinner without you. Sukuna took a bite out of his meat. Cooked to perfection. A slice of human male torso, with a female’s palm and breast. Some of his favorite parts to consume.

He chewed but the meat quickly started to turn sour– or was that just his mood affecting the food. Where the Hell is that woman? His curiosity quickly started to turn into anger. 

“Uraume!” He didn’t know or care what “business” they had. Sukuna wanted answers now.

Within moments, the snowy haired servant appeared in the doorway.

“Sukuna-sama?”

“Where is she?” He tried to chew, tried to savor the flavor, the smell, but every bite slowly started to turn bitter.

The shattered remnants of a ceramic plate lay at his feet, Uraume kneeling beside him in quiet apprehension. The silence in the room was suffocating, stretched taut with an unspoken fury that crackled like a brewing storm.

“She’s gone,” Uraume said evenly. “The servants—”

“I don’t give a damn about the servants.” Sukuna’s voice was low, almost calm. But Uraume flinched, recognizing the telltale signs of an imminent explosion.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. His fingers curled into fists, nails biting into his palms. He had known—known—you were reckless, that you let emotions dictate your actions. But this? Running headfirst into battle? It was the single most idiotic thing you could have done. Especially with your condition.

His lower hands twitched toward his stomach, a rare, almost unconscious gesture. Stupid girl. You didn’t even know. Didn’t know about the life you carried. His life.

And now you were out there, in the middle of a blood-soaked battlefield, fragile and unaware.

A slow, seething rage curled through his chest, suffocating in its intensity. He had half a mind to tear through every single soldier in that war-torn wasteland himself, not out of any sense of justice, he didn’t care for the politics of it, but simply to prove a point. To drag you back, trembling and bloodied, and make you understand that you do not get to leave him.

He inhaled sharply. “Where?”

Uraume hesitated. “Lord Sukuna—”

“Where.”

A beat. Then, reluctantly, Uraume murmured the name of the battlefield. Sukuna turned, striding toward the door. He would bring you back. He had to.

Ten kilometers. It wasn’t extremely far, but far enough he couldn’t sense you anymore. Far enough he couldn’t protect you. Damn it. Damn you.

He hasn’t felt like this in a long time. Not since her. That damn woman. He considers her more of a monster than himself. 

“Stay here,” she whispered.

Sukuna had been too young to understand what those words truly meant. Too young to recognize the way his mother’s voice trembled, how her fingers lingered just a little too long on his face, tracing the sharp edges of his cheekbones as if she were memorizing them.

"I’ll be right back."

She had kissed him then, something she rarely did. Her lips were cold. He remembers that. Cold, and wet with the tears she tried to hide.

Then she turned and walked away.

And she never came back.

Sukuna learned to lie that day. Learned to smother the ache in his chest, to twist his words, his thoughts, his very being into something untouchable. Because if love only led to loss, then what was the point? If people always left, then why should he ever believe in their promises?

So he didn’t.

Not until you.

Yet here you are, trying to leave him too.

You should have stayed behind. That thought claws at Sukuna’s mind like a relentless beast, gnawing and tearing through his usual ironclad logic. Why didn’t you just listen to him!? He’s never been one to hesitate, never one to question the necessity of a fight—but this time, something festers in his chest, heavy and unnatural. It’s you.

He’s always known you were reckless, too willing to throw yourself into danger for the sake of others, before he saved you. It’s one of the things that made you so damn frustrating. But this time, it’s different. This time, it’s not just your life on the line.

Sukuna’s fingers twitch at his side. No one else knows. Not even you. He had sensed it before you started feeling sick, something faint but unmistakable; a new life, fragile and barely formed, nestled within you. His child. His heir.

And you’re running straight into a warzone.

The knowledge should have made him stop you. It should have made him tell you the truth, force you to stay behind, do something to keep you safe. But he didn’t. He let his pride, his cold logic, his damned belief that you were strong enough to handle anything—just like always—get in the way.

Now, as he prepares for battle, unease coils around his ribs like a vice. Sukuna isn’t a man ruled by fear, but right now, he’s afraid. Not for himself. For you.

And for the life you don’t even know you’re carrying.

The journey to the village is a quiet one, with Uraume silently following behind. There was no need to plan or think any further. Sukuna knew exactly what he was going to do once he reached that battlefield.

The battlefield is a storm of blood and screams, but none of it matters. Not to him.

Sukuna scans the chaos with razor-sharp precision, his instincts screaming that something is off. He should have found you by now. You should be here, tearing through enemies with that reckless determination of yours, throwing yourself into the fray as if you were invincible.

But you’re not here.

His heart, if he even has one, lurches violently against his ribs. His body moves before his mind catches up, cutting through bodies, ignoring the spray of blood and the desperate cries around him. The only thing he cares about right now is finding you.

Cleave. Dismantle. Cleave. Dismantle. 

He slices and dices everything in sight, not caring whose side they were on.

Until he finally sees it.

A familiar figure, crumpled on the ground. Still. Far too still.

Sukuna doesn’t remember crossing the distance. One moment, he’s fighting. The next, he’s on his knees beside you, hands grasping at your body as if he can shake you back to life.

But you’re cold.

Too cold.

Something inside him snaps.

Heal. Heal.

He presses one then two, then four hands to your body, all infused with his overflowing cursed energy. He spills his life essence into you (again), yet you remain still. 

Heal. Heal.

He looks toward Uraume who just finished freezing their attackers. Maybe if they both try reverse cursed technique, it may work. 

Heal. Heal. Heal. Heal. Heal.

One of Sukuna’s hands grazes your lips. Cold and wet. Just like his mother’s that day.

You’re leaving him too. Just like her.

A sound rips from Sukuna’s throat; something raw, something primal, something wrong. He’s not the type to grieve, not the type to break, but as he cradles your lifeless body, he feels something inside him shatter beyond repair.

This isn’t supposed to happen.

You were supposed to live. To survive. To stay by his side, infuriating, annoying, and stubborn and alive.

His grip tightens around you, claws digging into your flesh, as if holding you close will somehow fix this, somehow reverse the unthinkable. But it won’t. He knows it won’t.

And then, it hits him.

The child.

His jaw clenches so hard it might break. His breath comes in ragged, uneven gasps, his entire body trembling–not with grief, but with unfiltered, world-ending rage.

They didn’t just take you from him.

They took everything.

A furious roar tears through the battlefield, drowning out the clashing of swords and the screams of the dying. The ground quakes beneath him as his cursed energy surges, turning the air thick with malice. His vision is drenched in red, his mind consumed by a singular, all-consuming need:

Vengeance.

He will burn this world to the ground. And he will make them all pay.

The battlefield is silent now. The stench of blood clings to the air, thick and suffocating, but Sukuna no longer tastes it. His blade is still warm in his grip, his hands stained with the lives he has taken. Corpses litter the ground, the remnants of his wrath, yet none of it matters. Not anymore.

You are gone. So is the child you never even knew you carried.

Sukuna stands amidst the ruin, but the rage that once burned inside him has been smothered, leaving behind something far worse: a hollow, endless void. He thought vengeance would bring him something. Closure, maybe. Peace. But there is no peace in this. No satisfaction. Only silence.

A familiar voice calls his name. Uraume. He barely registers them as they step closer, hesitant yet unwavering, the only presence left in the wake of his destruction. 

“It's over,” they say, as if that means anything.

Over.

Sukuna lets his weapon fall from his grasp. It lands with a dull thud, swallowed by the lifeless ground beneath him. He does not move when Uraume reaches for him, does not resist when they pull him away from this graveyard of his own making. He feels nothing.

You were supposed to be by his side. You were supposed to live.

But now, there is only emptiness. A vast, aching nothingness that no amount of bloodshed can ever fill.

A/N MAN I WAS SO NERVOUS WRITING THIS 😭 It was my first time ever writing true form kuna and I'm not sure if I even did good (he's so hard to write!) 😭 I'm lowkey shaking, because I'm so in love with him and don't want to ruin his character or write him OOC. Welp. (I hope I made you cry, bc that was my goal) Also shout out to Ayron Jones, who's such an underrated artist. I hope you guys listen and enjoy the song! 🖤

masterlist | jjk masterlist

[mrmanbat]

So- Bruce was the one to teach Jason to use a gun.

This is a fact. Not a headcanon. It’s a (fairly) niche aspect of the comics that is glossed over but it’s there.

Batman teachers his kids aspects of combat that he himself disapproves of bc he would have them alive then dead. He’d rather have them be the killer than be killed bc if they got killed that blood would be on his hands.

That being said I’m so disappointed in the fandom for not taking advantage of this angst goldmine. 

[vesna-v-irkutske]

Did Nikita have a tooth gap

Did he have the London look

"THE LONDON LOOK." GET OUT. Look, he's doing the London thing on the 2nd pic.

Just slightly crooked front teeth. 🤓 :)

[alaskan-wallflower]

Okay so here’s a silly little headcanon

So we know Darry was practically the golden child right? He was good at sports. He was in the top ten in his class. He’ll he was probably set up to be going to a very good college. Everyone loved him. Their parents were always proud of Darry. Teachers always talked about Darry. Darry, Darry, Darry.

And then there was Soda. Soda who could barely sit still in class. Soda who got reprimanded for every little thing he does (I stand by the ADHD Sodapop headcanon but it was the 60’s-he was probably just being viewed as rambunctious and obnoxious and that wasn’t the case at all). Soda who was constantly asked why he couldn’t be more like Darry by his teachers.

And after a while Soda started to resent Darry. Like…heavily. He started to absolutely despise his older brother. And Darry never knew about it until Darry came home one day and was talking about how he had earned an academic scholarship and Soda just exploded. He yelled at Darry to “shut up” and that he was sick and tired of the constant praises Darry was given while he himself was constantly told to just do better

Darry goes upstairs and talks to him. Soda immediately regrets blowing up and realizes it wasn’t Darry’s fault-more so the teachers and even his family to an extent for pitting them against each other because I know these guys had toxic ass aunts and uncles who would call Soda dumb and such but that’s another post for another day) and Soda just abolsyylej breaks down in Darry’s arms and apologizes for the four years of absolutely resenting him. He realized it wasn’t Darry’s fault. anyone of it was. And he spent time resenting Darry for nothing.

After that if Darry hears the word stupid and Soda in the same sentence he’ll go absolutely ballistic. It’s another reason Soda breaks down at the end. He sees how Pony seems to resent Darry and he sees himself in Pony in that regard. And that’s why he yells at them to get along post book.

[oh-no-its-bird]

"curse of hatred" this "curse of hatred" that

The Hatake clan is haunted by the curse of doomed toxic yaoi/yuri and in this essay I will—

[francisabernathysgf]

true love was invented when neil perry outright said "no" when todd anderson said that he could take care of himself.

"i can take care of myself"

"no. :)"

[bitchslapblastoids]

Was thinking about how much of a normo I come across as irl, how I’ve felt a lil odd person out at their shows bc of being a bit older (29) and looking so aggressively normal, how generally confused people in my life would be if they knew about my d&p obsession, how thoroughly i mask weirder traits and essentially codeswitch to suit the mainstream, etc.

i feel kind of fish out of water when I imagine how all the people that populate my tumblr phandom ecosystem are likely presenting to the world irl (I.e. more visibly queer, counterculture, and so on). But then I think maybe the most visible phannies are the ones with the most curated, alt, deliberate daytoday lewks/style? So maybe what I’m picturing is off base? But then I’m also basing this off of what audiences look like in audience footage, m&gs, etc.

Sooooooo i would like to know… do you guys feel like you present as someone who may be Deeply Online and obsessed with two gay nerds from the internet? Or do you hide it and fly under the radar, masking as a total normy and living a double life?

(To clarify I don’t mean you’re like out and about wearing the fringes boob sweatshirt lol I more mean vibes and overall lewk yk?)

[vesna-v-irkutske]

The house where Nikita Lytkin lived until his arrest (Lermontova St., 261A). The apartment in it was inherited by the Lytkin family from relatives, and after Nikita's arrest, his mother had to move from here.

This is how it looked in 2023. Windows are broken in some places, and there's no lock on the door. There's nothing interesting inside, just a closet. The first (left) window was Nikita's room. Meanwhile, in Artyom's apartment (Lermontova St., 263), the door looked fine, the lock was intact. Someone can still live there or just take care of the apartment (but not his mother, she also had to move).

[sarastellasari]

actually I think the “we could wake them up” quote is also kinda used to mischaracterize Wylan. He isn’t normally a violent person, but he was in a pretty tough situation so he was willing to do whatever it took to keep the crows safe. Neither that quote or the “Wylan van sunshine” one are actually good judges of his character in my opinion.