#I hate and love him

[soddiren]

i think bill really deserved it

cr for webcore stamp - @inkcomposer

[lebestococonut]

°•.☆Go for a snack kid.°•...

Day 1: unicorn

It's still October 1st... change my mind. I hope to be able to continue these days. Thanks for the precious list @sariphantom bay bay°.•☆

[epickiya722]

"yOU're StiLL arOunD?" Sir, you say that like you weren't reincarnated in an era you should not be in all the while spreading agony to folks because you want to. SHOULDN'T YUJI BE ASKING YOU THAT?!

[dairyfaerie]

FATES FORBIDDEN WEAVE

Chapter 3: The Village of Spirits and Smoke

warnings: None

wordcount: 1k

Heian era!Sukuna x Female!Reader

prev/next

The sun had risen higher now, casting golden light across the land like a blessing. The bath had warmed her body and soothed her nerves, but as Hoshiko dressed, something unfamiliar stirred inside her—something ancient, as though the earth itself was humming beneath her feet.

She quickly slipped into her new clothes, trying to prevent Bashira from going into the curtain-covered room to help. The robe she wore covered her body with layers of fabric hand-dyed in deep indigo, earthy browns, and faded white. The robe was a traditional attus, woven from softened tree bark, its texture coarse but not uncomfortable against her skin. Black geometric patterns edged the sleeves and hem, embroidered with care and passed from elder to child for generations. A finely braided sash cinched her waist, tied with a red cord symbolic of purification and rebirth.

Bashira wore something similar, though her robe bore swirls that signified water and flow—a student’s garb. A beautiful necklace of carved bone and polished obsidian beads rested around her throat, whispering lightly when she moved.

“You look like one of us now,” Bashira said with a soft smile, adjusting Hoshiko’s collar.

As they stepped outside, the morning air was cool and sweet, heavy with the aroma of woodsmoke, earth, and pine. The village of the Ainu spread out in soft, organic lines, not structured like a city, but growing like roots from the land itself. Small thatched homes built from timber and bamboo stood beside wide vegetable gardens. Chickens wandered freely. Children played with carved wooden toys while elders sat weaving or carving under shaded verandas.

Men and women bustled about in clothing much like Hoshiko’s—each robe lovingly stitched with unique symbols, each person moving with a quiet pride. Their hair was thick and black, often worn long and tied back with leather cords. Beards were grown full and respectfully maintained among the elders and hunters. Their skin, like Hoshiko’s, was rich in golden brown tones—bronze kissed by the sun, deepened by years in the open air.

And that’s when it hit her.

She paused mid-step, the sound of children laughing distant in her ears as her heart pounded hard. Her hands, tucked into her sleeves, tightened slightly as memories surged unbidden—playgrounds in Kyoto, white uniforms and whispered words of little children. The way girls in school would avoid sitting next to her, would stare and ask, “Why are you so dark?” Or the boys who’d pull her hair hard and bully her until she'd cried. Memories of her crying to her mother and her mother’s voice, always patient, always gentle: “You are beautiful, Hoshiko. We are a blend of two mighty rivers. The just don't understand.”

Her mother’s skin was darker—deep and rich like polished mahogany that was passed down from her African ancestors—and her father’s had been a dusky brown too, though distinctly more Japanese. And yet Hoshiko had always felt… other.

But here, in this village surrounded by sun-kissed skin and dark waves of hair, she felt… familiar. Not different. Not exotic.

Home.

Bashira noticed the pause and looked back. “Kamuy-sama, Are you alright?”

Hoshiko cleared her throat and nodded, voice wobbling slightly. "Yes...I'm just mesmerized by your beautiful home...”

This made Bashira swell with pride and they continued weaving through the village paths. A woman waved as they passed, her arms coated in wood shavings as she carved what looked like a bear cub. Two older men sat cross-legged by the fire, tending to fish strung out over a bed of smoking coals. The air was alive with the rhythm of life: the soft beat of drums in the distance, a chant drifting in the wind, the rustle of leaves in prayer.

“What you’re hearing is the kamuy rimse,” Bashira said before Hoshiko could ask, already attuned to her. “It’s a prayer song to the spirit gods. Every sound we make—every drumbeat or carving—is a tie with the world around us.”

Hoshiko’s brow furrowed thoughtfully. “So… everything you do has meaning?”

“Yes. We don’t separate life from the sacred. The river is a teacher. The trees are guardians. Even death is a doorway, not an end. That’s why when someone like you comes here… the elders listen. Because it means something. You’re not just here. You were called.”

A hush fell between them, but not an uncomfortable one. As they approached the longhouse near the village’s heart, Bashira continued.

“Later today, you’ll meet Elder Sayuk. She’ll be the one to help you begin training. She’s one of our best at channeling the sintomi, the life force I told you about earlier. She’ll show you how to listen to the earth… how to let it move through you.”

Hoshiko blinked. “Is it hard to learn?”

Bashira smiled, the expression bright as morning sun. “Sometimes. But it’s worth it.”

They stopped at a wooden post adorned with feathers and etched spirals. Bashira pointed to the carving.

“This is the ikupasuy, the prayer stick. Every home has one. When you eat, when you speak, when you ask the kamuy for guidance… you hold it. It reminds us we’re never alone, even it feels as if the world is against us.”

And as Hoshiko reached out to touch the carved wood, her fingers brushed over the grooves, a rush of heat echoing softly through her skin—steady, warm, alive.

TAGLIST!!! THANK YOU FOR PATIENTLY WAITING!!!! THIS CHAPTER IS SHORT CUS I'M STUDYING FOR FINALS AGAINNN UGHHHH <3333

@paradisestarfishh @obitobrigade @boojaynaqueen @angryflowerwitch @getouyuri (WAIT I CAN'T REMEMBER WHOSE ON THE TAGLIST)

[piness-rhombus]

GUESS WHO FOUND OUT ABOUT ANTI-FORD

HE'S SO CRINGEEEEEEEEEE

i should keep drawing him..

[panofccotta]

[idacreature]

why is tumblr recommending me the blog of the guy who sang lalala like 6 years ago and why does he type like a twitter user

bbno$ why are you here

[scales-of-stardust]

Sometimes my oc Moraos plagues my brain and I have to purge him from my system. I hate him but he’s hot so he gets away with it

[eldritchx]

Dog-ifies your Gatsby. Ohh boy I didn't expect to make designs but whatever! I'm not sure specifically why I made him a husky. Probably because they're really dramatic breeds, which fits him pretty well. Anyway I plan to make more designs,,, uhggff

[vincenz0raven]

“God is dead, I shall be your new savior."

[drunkonmyowntears-blog]

I don't want to love him anymore. Please. Let me forget him. I don't even want to hate him. I want every memory, thought, and feeling I have completely erased. I don't want to live like this. I don't want to be this person. Please let this be a dream where I wake up, and it's not 2025. And I can choose to have never, ever met him. He altered my whole identity. I don't know who this hateful, heartbroken woman is, I see in the mirror.

[michsmeesh]

i need john marston to trip over his own foot

[gorgo4ne]

Can the guy at the bottom kill himself or something

[remynisce]

Love to see the evolution of their dynamic in the latest chapters

[marxist-magnetron]

reading Cicero's letters and kicking my feat and twirling my hair like a girl in love. he makes me laugh

[sanctissimx]

@beaststarved

in light of recent news, i remembered i drew this a few months ago