#old timey

[samaraxmorgan]

Spill Your Secrets

Synopsis: Something strange happened during Sukuna’s most recent fight, he was nearly defeated. Completely losing his ability to harness his cursed energy, he had to resort to bludgeoning his enemy to death with his bare hands. Except after this sorcerer’s death, his techniques didn’t return to him. It won’t be that simple, you see, to regain his abilities he will need to reveal his deepest secret, but what on earth could that possibly be?

Pairing: Heian Era Sukuna x Reader

Contains: blood, lots of mentions of blood, very slight angst but everything ends up okay, tooth rotting fluff

Word Count: 2.0k

My Masterlist Here!!

The king of curses is nothing if not blunt, never having any problems being as distastefully confrontational towards anyone who meets his menacing gaze. Anyone and everyone, except for you; it wasn’t always like this, of course, but over the course of your time together he’s become… more reserved you could say. He would absolutely threaten to kill you if you told him he was growing soft, but you’re both more than aware that he would never dare to lay a hand on you, no matter how often you intentionally push his buttons.

Like how you are now, waiting for him to return back home and enter his throne room to find you lounging on his precious throne, your back leaned against one armrest while your legs draped over the other. Uraume can’t help but shake their head, unable to comprehend the amount of absolute nerve you possess, or more importantly, how their lord Sukuna seems almost delighted to keep you around regardless of your constant antics.

The grand doors to the estate open abruptly, slamming into the walls as Sukuna enters, the blood of his foes coating his hands and leaving crimson splatters across his broad figure. This fight must have been messy; you’ve seen him return victorious more times than you could count, droplets of blood scattered on his skin, dripping down his face and torso, but this… It must have been personal. He clearly fought with his bare hands, bruises on his bloodied knuckles and a large open gash spread across his-

Wait.

What?

No, no, that can’t be right. You blink to clear your eyes, they’re surely deceiving you, but as he stumbles into the entryway you realize that the unthinkable- no, the impossible- has happened.

Sukuna is injured.

Within the blink of an eye, Uraume is rushing to his aid as you scramble off of his throne and run towards him. You’ve never seen this look in his eyes before, like a rabbit surrounded by wolves, his hands shaking in what could be perceived as either unrelenting anger or an imperceivable fear.

Your voice wavers, panic clear in your shaky breaths as you speak, “What… Happened…?”

“Uraume, the sorcerer I’ve just fought,” He���s trying to keep his voice steady, but there’s no mistaking the underlying panic in his rushed words, “Research his curse technique and report back to me with your findings.”

With a quick nod of their head Uraume rushes out of the throne room, pulling the doors shut behind them to prevent anyone from seeing Sukuna in this condition. He lets out a shaky breath, his guard immediately dropping with the click of the doors as he presses a large hand into the gash drawn across the side of his torso, gritting his teeth as he attempts to cover the wound to prevent more of his blood from seeping out.

“Why haven’t you healed?” Your voice comes out in a whisper, although you didn’t mean it to.

He whispers right back to you, “I can’t.”

You didn’t know it was possible for your eyes to grow wider, your heart pounding painfully in your chest as you forcefully grab one of his hands into both of your own and lead him to a lounge chair. He stumbles slightly, nearly collapsing into the plush cushions; a sharp breath escapes his throat, his head leaning back against the seat and his eyes squeezing shut.

Sukuna has never had to endure pain, his reverse cursed technique always closing his wounds for him subconsciously. You reach for the foot of your long gown, ripping through the fabric to create a large makeshift bandage. Seating yourself on one of his large thighs, you reach forward to wrap your arms around either side of his waist, pulling the fabric flush against his back and whispering out a quiet apology as you tie each end of the bandage and pull it tight, compressing his wound to suppress the bleeding and causing him to huff out a harsh breath, a low growl leaving his lips as one of his hands reaches to cover his mouth in an attempt to stifle his sounds of pain.

You pull his hand away from his lips, gently placing your shaking palm on his cheek; his eyes crack open and his head tilts subtly to meet your petrified gaze. His long fingers wrap around your trembling ones, an attempt to be reassuring, and he gently pulls your hand to his lips to press a weak kiss to the back of your hand that was now smeared with scarlet blood.

His maroon eyes look hazy as you gaze into them, swiping your thumb in an attempt to clear a drop of blood from his cheek but only smudging it across his features, “Tell me what happened.”

His brows furrow and he clicks his tongue, “That bastard hit me with… something,” He lets out a deep breath, “His attack rendered me incapable of harnessing my cursed energy. I’d assumed that disposing of him would resolve the issue, but,” The tiniest hint of a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips, “I assumed incorrectly, it seems.”

Tears begin to well in your eyes, your voice breaking and causing that small smile of his to dissipate and his grip on your hand to grow tighter, “Will you be okay..?”

“Yes.” He declares sternly, two of his hands reaching to cup your face, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear and catching a falling tear on the tip of his thumb, his voice sounding softer now “Yes, my dear, I will be okay.”

Tears begin to cascade down your face as you nod your head, forcing a wobbly smile onto your lips. His thumbs brush your tears away, but leave smudges of blood in their wake. His grip on your hand never falters as his last free hand wraps around your waist, the hands cupping your face sliding to the back of your neck and gently pulling you towards him, your forehead pressed against his as his eyes bore into your own; you’re unable to read the look he gives you, but his pupils grow wider.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

“He has to what?”

Uraume shifts uncomfortably in the doorway of Sukuna’s chambers, “To share a secret, I don’t know to whom, but presumably he has to inform someone of a matter he is not willing to discuss.”

The tension had settled significantly in the last two days, Sukuna’s wounds slowly but surely healing on their own with no complications; you’ve been keeping a keen eye on his injuries as you cleansed and wrapped them multiple times a day, dark red scabs beginning to form throughout the slice taken from his side. You felt a wave of relief wash over you when you heard that Uraume had discovered the cure to Sukuna’s condition, but now tension has once again began to bubble up inside of you as you peer over at Sukuna sitting on the bed next to you.

What secrets could he possibly have? He’s never held his tongue for anyone.

Except…

“Thank you, Uraume, you are dismissed.”

They nod their head and turn on their heel, pulling the tall wooden door to the chambers shut as they leave. Sukuna leans back against the pillows adorning his grand bed, staring into the flickering flames of the candles hoisted on iron candlesticks surrounding the bed and painting the room in a soft orange glow. You both sit in silence for a moment, consumed in your thoughts as the curtains sway from the gentle breeze making its way in from the open window.

You’re first to interrupt the silence, crawling backwards on his bed and leaning your back onto the plush velvet pillows, gazing up at him next to you with a soft smile, “Well, at least it’s an easy solution.”

His eyes flicker to yours, and you’re greeted with that unreadable expression once again; his pupils growing larger at the sight of you, dim candlelight softly illuminating his darkened eyes that held something behind them. His lips part for a moment, but no words can grace his tongue; his gaze drops to your lips and back to your eyes, his mouth opening again but there is still only silence. He grits his teeth, his eyes squinting and brows furrowing in frustration as he turns his head completely to look away from you.

You lift yourself to sit upright on the bed, looking down at him laying beneath you and pinching his chin between your fingers, turning his head to look back at you, “It’s about me, isn’t it?”

A soft groan escapes his throat as he wraps a hand around your wrist, gently pushing your hand away as he turns his head to look towards the wall. A beat of quiet passes as his eyes fall shut, a soft sigh leaving his lips, “Perhaps that’s the case.”

You scrunch your brows together, giving him a quizzical look as you gently poke underneath his bottom eye, “Well? Spill it.”

He rolls his eyes, “It’s is not so simple.”

You let out a frustrated huff, “Sukuna, we can’t keep you hidden forever. Eventually the people will hear that the king of curses is curseless.”

He grits his teeth, shooting daggers in your direction as his eyes meet yours once again, “I am well aware. Please humor me with your silence, woman.”

“Woman,” You repeat in a mocking tone, your arms crossing across your chest, you mumble under your breath, “I was My Dear two days ago.”

“You-” Two of his hands take hold of your own and pull them away from your chest while his other two rest on either side of your hips, “You’re always-” his words get stuck in his throat, his gaze up at you softening as that look in his eyes returns once again.

One of his hands leaves your hip to prop himself up on the bed, the mattress shifting under his weight as he leans his tall figure down to have his face hover right above your own. His fingers intertwine with yours as he wraps his lower set of arms around your waist and pulls you into his lap, the two of you now eye level.

His breath fans against your lips as he speaks, his voice hardly coming out as a whisper, “You don’t make this easy for me,” He lifts one of your hands to his chest, pressing your palm against his pounding heart, “My dear.”

He looks beautiful, the warm glow of candlelight cascading across his skin as his dark eyes gaze into yours, longing for you, not wanting to ever have you leave his arms.

Your voice escapes in a whisper, “What do you mean?”

He lifts the hand he had placed between your bodies up to your chin, his thumb slowly brushing over your bottom lip, “Every time I have attempted to tell you, my voice has never ceased to failed me,” He leans further towards you, your foreheads pressed against one another’s, whispering against your lips, “It seems that you always manage to tear my breath from my lungs.”

He breaks the distance between you, tilting his head slightly and running his hand to the back of your neck as he softly presses his lips against yours. Your heart races in your chest but your eyes fall shut as you melt into him, sliding your hand from its home on his heart and wrapping it around the back of his head, attempting to pull him impossibly closer. He lets a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding escape him, kissing you deeper, passion flooding from his lips and against your own.

It pains him to pull away from you, but he doesn’t stray far, his lips still brushing against yours as his eyes are back on yours, clarifying to you that his eyes have always been telling you what he has never been able to say in a breath against your lips, “I Love You.”

A/N: So THAT was his secret huh, I have the BIGGEST headcanon that he refuses to ever ever ever say I love you, and a situation like this is the ONLY way to get him to actually admit he could god forbid care for another person. Anyway I wrote this in a more… formal? style than I normally do bc my usual snarky inner dialogues didn’t really fit the vibes here, so I went balls to the walls with the fancy speak lmfao. I hope you enjoyed!!

[immoralauraa]

2023 Beatrice Concept Art [OC]

[wronghands1]

[macknus]

Pathetic and Defeated (II)

Part one here

*~*~*~*~*

Whumpee groaned as Caretaker half-carried, half-dragged him down the street. He tried to minimise his hitches in breath, tried not to anger the good samaritan who took pity on him. He blinked as the stranger led him up towards the more wealthy part of town.

“Maybe,” Caretaker grumbled, letting out a breath of effort. “If you focused more on—” grunt, “walking, instead of trying to hide,” grunt, “your pain, we’d get there faster, ey?”

Whumpee released a breath he was holding and nodded. He shifted his weight to take more pressure on his bad leg and winced as his foot hit the ground. “There ya go, not much further now.”

Whumpee grunted in reply, but Caretaker was right. They were moving much faster now. And the quicker they got out of the rain, the sooner Whumpee could rest. Black spots swooped across his vision, accompanied with a warm sicky feeling and Whumpee’s strength left him.

Caretaker let out a shout of surprise, and ducked to catch Whumpee before he collapsed on the ground again. When Whumpee could see clearly again he was staring at the sky, the kind stranger staring down at him.

The stranger’s hand patted Whumpee’s cheek lightly. “Still with me?”

“Mmhm.”

Caretaker nodded and sat back. He ran a hand through his soaked blond strands and let out a sigh. “I guess I’m dragging you home,” he said.

Whumpee protested, struggling to get up on his elbows but Caretaker just laughed and pushed Whumpee back down again. “I’m joking. Relax. Get your strength back, and then we can move again. Here.”

Whumpee blinked into the midnight sky. A pop to the left of him and suddenly the sky was replaced with a black web of fabric and the rain seized falling on Whumpee’s face. Caretaker’s face popped under the cover of the umbrella too, grinning down at Whumpee as rain dripped steadily down his face.

What a strange man, Whumpee mused even as his mind swirled.

“There, now. We have some shelter while you recover.” Caretaker said happily. His brows fell over his eyes. “Though if we get colds out of this I will hold you personally liable. I hate sneezing.”

Whumpee wanted nothing more than to rest his head back against Caretaker’s warm leg and sleep but he knew it was dumb. They should really try and get back to Caretaker’s house. So after another minute or two Whumpee said, “okay.”

Caretaker glanced down, eyebrows raised, “you sure?”

“Yeah. I can make it.”

“Wonderful! It’s not far now.”

That’s what you said last time, Whumpee didn’t say.

Caretaker helped Whumpee to his feet and they were off again. Caretaker walking, Whumpee limping. And they were making far better progress than before.

“Ah, there. You see that big house at the end of the street?”

Whumpee saw it alright. It was hard to miss. But that was the baron’s house. He told Caretaker as much. Caretaker grinned. “Yes, well. Nice to meet you too…”

Whumpee stopped suddenly and Caretaker grunted. “You’re the Baron?”

“Yes. And I’m also freezing, so can we please keep moving?”

Whumpee blinked away the stupor, or maybe it was a concussion, but they continued walking anyways up to the big manor house that stood proudly at the edge of town.

“And your name is?”

“Whumpee.”

“Ah. Wonderful. Pleasure to meet you, Whumpee,” Caretaker said. “My name is Caretaker.”

“I know your name, Baron Ca—”

“No, no, just Caretaker,” Caretaker said, half lifting, half dragging Whumpee up the steps to the house and stumbling along beside him. He grabbed Whumpee and set him against the wall for support as he lifted the knocker to the door. Caretaker put his hands on his hips and grinned at Whumpee under the shelter of the porch, exposing perfect white teeth. “I insist.”

A stocky gentleman in his late thirties opened the door, prematurely salt and peppered grey hair cropped neatly at the sides. He stared down at the Baron who seemed to have disturbed him from rest like a tired parent. Baron, in striking contrast, beamed a grin at the man.

“Master, you are soaking wet. How many times have I told you—”

Caretaker held up the umbrella. “Not to worry Valko my good man, I remembered it this time. No I found a poor man in the street who needs medical attention and dry clothes.” Caretaker sniffed the air, glancing at Whumpee then back to Valko before theatrically whispering: “And maybe a bath.”

Valko stuck his long neck out the door and glanced at the barely conscious Whumpee, half falling down the wall and let out a long sigh. “I thought you were finished collecting strays as well,” Valko muttered but stepped out into the porch and approached Whumpee.

“Who said I was finished collecting strays?” Baron asked, disappearing into the house, his bright voice carrying out the door. “Besides, a human is better than another hound, Valko. We don’t have any free kennels left for one, so I improvised.”

“Mm, no…” Whumpee mumbled, as Valko approached, weakly lifting a hand, but the stocky man didn’t seem to notice or care. The last thing Whumpee saw before darkness filled his vision, was Valko lifting him with surprising strength for a skinny man and carrying him like a baby into the manor house. Whumpee’s strength left him as soon as they crossed the threshold into the house and he went limp in Valko arms as the Baron asked from somewhere within the bowels of the house.

“What’s for dinner? I am famished.”

*~*~*~*~*

Continued here

General Tag-list: @sunflower1000 @scoundrelwithboba (lmk if you wanna be added/removed🫶)

[the-fab-fox]

So due to the recent gorgeous gowns I've reblogged today and the fact that my hairline is receding with a vengeance...

Fig. 1 & Fig. 2

(no comments of a superficial nature or coming from a place of sociatal beauty standards will be permitted and will quickly be eradicated. you have been warned.)

... I have contemplated perhaps the craziest, zaniest, cookiest, most out-of-the-box "cosplay" idea that I think might have ever been conceived.

The idea?

William Shakespeare in Old Timey Gowns

Thoughts?

Lmk if I'm crazy (pos) or crazy (neg)

Thank y'all lol

[dailyhomestarfacts]

To celebrate 300 facts, I've made my profile picture and background old-timey because of the first fact involving it!

I'll probably leave it like this for about a week and change it back then

Bonus version of when I only thought of doing a style change

[zillanovikov]

I've been reading 18th century literature to get myself in the vibe, and one thing I'm absolutely loving is the *pacing*.

Unlike modern books, these books aren't sold to agents based on 3 sample chapters that need to hook the reader so the agent asks for a full manuscript, so often virtually nothing besides scene setting and introducing the characters happens in the first hundred pages or so.

How do they fit in the story? The books are printed in close type on really thin paper, so The Queen's Necklace (535 pages in my edition) is a physically smaller book than modern 400 pagers I've compared it to. And I know we talk about the joy of reading dead tree editions, but we don't talk often enough about the joy of reading dead tree editions that smell of must with delicate pages.

And the reward for sticking out the slow start? When things move slowly, you get accustomed to the pace, and as the threads start to come together and the story accelerates, it becomes engrossing and frenetic in a way that a story that starts at 100 km/hr can never match. (I see you quiver with antici

pation.)

Anyway, random thoughts on old timey books and how the process of modern publishing changes the story we tell. The medium is the message, &etc.

[thegoodmorningman]

It's Friday! You have to have fun!!!

[insleywinsley]

Gathering I. 2025. Ph. Insley Smullen.

[furry-homestar]

COME ON AND KICK THE CAN MAN

[kt-stations]

Cat

[giffypudding]

Just horsin' around

[limoncheg]

Original:

[wronghands1]

[ranposweetworld]

"I was never really insane expect upon occasions when my heart was touched" - Edgar the author quote

Edgar Allan Poe aesthetic becuase I just really wanted to

x x x / x x x / x x x

more poe bsd I have worked on: x

[dailyhomestarfacts]

Fact 120:

The factory shown in the background of Strong Sad's thought bubble in day 4 of Decemberweenvent Calender (2022 revisited) are the same factories as the one in the "The Factory/Circus District" from multiple old-timey toons