#Alien Character Deck

[dailycharacteroption]

Races Among the Stars 8: Kobolds

And we end off this week’s special with your, mine, and the internet’s favorite: Kobolds. Those delightful little draconic scamps that have wormed their way into our hearts (and other bodily organs) over the years.

Kobolds weren’t initially in Starfinder officially, partially because when the system first launched, the writers had trouble finding a niche for them in the setting that already had so many small-sized lovable scamp species in it, ranging from old classics like gnomes and halflings, to the recently promoted core option of the ysoki, and of course the Pathfinder staple of goblins, it’s hard to justify yet another such species, or so goes the claim. Personally the fact that there’s literally a planet in the Pact Worlds with an entire continent of dragon-ruled nation-states seemed like the perfect basis for me, but that is just my two cents.

In any case, kobolds are back, first appearing in the Alien Character Deck along with other Golarion staples, and later being expanded upon in Interstellar Species!

But kobolds have changed a bit in the millennia since the days of Pathfinder, so let’s go over that real quick-like!

When the Gap ended, kobolds were… conspicuously absent from the multiverse, and many assumed that they shared the same fate as the missing world of Golarion.

However, a century later (which is still several centuries before the current point in the timeline), the first experiments with witchwarping magic began, and while those first forays mostly brought into existence strange machines that seemed to be non-functional within the constraints of local physics and reality, with them came reptilian humanoids which were apparently, by all analysis and their own admission, the missing kobolds, leading to an entire population of them inhabiting Absalom Station and beyond.

Where things get especially strange, however, is the effect these first-generation kobolds had on reality. They had in their possession keys to empty apartments that somehow nobody had noticed before, credentials for jobs that seemed not to exist before. It was as if reality was bending to give the kobolds a place in the world. Whether this place was folded into the main reality when they arrived or existed before and was obscured is another mystery.

It seems apparent that during the Gap, kobold-kind, or at least some of it, saw whatever even the Gap obscures coming and use advanced reality warping technology and magic to shunt themselves off into a pocket reality somewhere between another universe and a demiplane, perhaps the border of the main one, until the event had past and further witchwarping events and experiments called them back. Of course, wherever they were, they did not escape the effects of the Gap itself, and have no memory of that time.

The result is an origin that is one part an excellent way to give kobolds a new refreshing backstory in this far-future age, as well as a funny meta-joke about literally injecting kobolds back into the setting.

However, it should be noted that while that first generation warped reality around themselves, kobolds born into the setting’s universe properly have not manifested nearly as many strange, reality warping events, though the secrets of witchwarping are now heavily associated with kobolds in the same way that draconic power and magic is.

Starfinder-era kobolds were introduced after Pathfinder Second Edition came out, meaning that they have the distinctive appearance from that edition, which I was not a fan of, but the design has grown on me over time.

Kobold are small reptiles with somewhat oversized craniums covered in scales that come in a variety of colors ranging across the rainbow and even rare metallic shades, reflecting the traditional colors of chromatic and metallic dragons and plenty in-between. Additionally, they also possess horns, most commonly two oversized backwards-sweeping ones, though some sport up to 8 smaller horns. They also possess sharp teeth and a long tail for counterbalancing their craniums, though their small size and unimpressive physiques usually make these unappealing options for self-defense.

It is also notable that most kobolds also go through rare periods of flux, their bodies changing as the witchwarping magic that infuses them makes changes. Usually these are benign, things like bouts of nausea, developing a new allergy or repelling pathogens, but others are more extreme, manifesting dramatic spell effects. The most disruptive are thankfully rare, but aspiring witchwarpers use them as the basis for their magic, developing and controlling these warps.

Kobolds are a communal species, and so they often seek to aid their communities whenever possible, and a kobold child can be expected to be raised not just by their parents but by the whole community. However, kobolds also have a deep pride as a people, stemming from the truth that they know in their heart of hearts: kobolds are dragons, and the fact that their forms a diminutive and weak is one of the universe’s great injustices. Plenty believe that in whatever reality they were in before returning, they wore the mighty shape of true dragons, while others believe that this is a convenient folktale. Either way, this has birthed several philosophies, including those that seek to unlock their draconic heritage, those that seek to reclaim the power and wealth they believe they deserve, and of course those that seek to ignore all that and just live their lives in the reality they find themselves in.

Kobolds are agile and passionate, but frail.

That being said, their scales provide some decent protection in a pinch.

With their keen minds, these tiny reptiles have a special knack for engineering and physics, true to their long history of trap and weapon building.

The colors of a kobold’s scales are not just for show. Indeed, that coloration indicates some genetic similarities with various forms of dragon, granting them resistance to acid, cold, electricity, of flame to match.

Kobolds have a lot of fun options as characters. Their charisma and association with the art makes them excellent witchwarpers, not to mention other charisma classes like solarian, envoy, and the like. Their agility also makes them good picks for operatives as well as most any ranged combat build, including ranged soldiers, evolutionists (particularly those seeking a draconic form), and so on. Their love of building and intricate devices also makes mechanic and technomancer thematic choices as well, and biohackers might seek to unlock the secrets of dragonhood in their genetics. They also have a history of magic, making mystic and especially precog good choices as well. Their only real weakness seems to be their con, making nanocyte, vanguard, and any especially tanky builds somewhat difficult, but not impossible. Additionally, beyond classes, the Interstellar Species book has lots of feats meant to represent kobolds unlocking their draconic potential, ranging from wings, a breath weapon, and outright gaining a draconic alternate form!

And that’s it for this week! Through a curious accident of how I’ve been picking which species to cover, this week has been mostly species that are relics of the fantasy origins of the setting, which is neat to point out. Regardless, I hope you enjoyed it, and look forward to more options next week!

[synelven]

wuh-oh! star trek oc time again. haven't drawn her in uh. years. so here she is once more: ensign tila'ave

[aclkplm208-blog]

Chief Nurse Avrona Keyla

Meet Chief Nurse Avrona Keyla from Star Trek Unity.

[ronqueesha]

I completely understand the reasons behind the reddit blackout and I fully support it. But I’m really feeling the loss of my favorite places to be super nerdy and discuss lore and trivia about my favorite entertainment.

[savingthedeadwebcomic]

Saving the dead | tarot series | Alaric - the magician

Thanks to this series you guys get a peak on Alaric’s lab before it actually appears in the main story. I already drew the parts where they get there later in the comic but now you get to see it before that

The magician is a card that represents potential, talent and pure willpower I chose this card for Alaric cause he is a genius who never lets go of his goals of destroying civilisations

I’m not so happy with how this card turned out but it’s here! Hope you like it

[dougielombax]

Between Mesk, Zuke and Skidd McMarx, I seem to have a thing for green guys.

One is an Orion raised by humans, one is just a human who happens to be green because of NSR’s art style, and the other is a handsome alien lizard with a beard.

Maybe it’s just coincidence.

Idk.

[punkpandapatrixk]

🏖Your Own Standards of Beauty ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

I’ve seen one too many times East Asian YouTubers, when talking about EA’s ‘rigid standards of beauty’ giving this sense of defensiveness or helplessness—because it’s culture, right? With every fibre of my mixed ancestry I loathed that particular brand of apologist behaviour.

‘Nature is busy creating absolutely unique individuals, whereas culture has invented a single mold to which all must conform. It is grotesque.’ – U.G. Krishnamurti

Up until fairly recently, I was still struggling with comprehending the thought process behind this ‘invention’ of a grotesquely small and narrow mould of beauty and conduct to which ALL East Asians must abide lest you’re a total disharmonious failure. After some long and hard rumination, frustration, accompanied by occasional bouts of repugnance, I think I finally get ‘why’.

Almost ALL people in East Asia ALL LOOK THE SAME!!! By nature!!! LMAO LMAO People can ONLY have black hair and black eyes LMAO Ahahahohohhahah I think these Asians were never ‘socialised’ to appreciate variety. Hahhh that’s so pathetic. If this really is the reason, man, it’s pathetic as fuck. Ionno tho. You think I’ve figured it out.

All I know is that East Asians must repent for all the sins they’ve committed against childhood, individuality, creativity, aaand society and Humanity itself. Yes, Humanity. Standing on the side of all genetically diverse peoples of Asia, such as the Ainus, Mongols, Uyghurs, to some extent the Zainichis, and sooo many other ‘anomalies’ who, in recent history, have been cast aside and treated poorly only because they don’t ‘fit in’ to the ideals and cultures of the main races of some purebred fucks.

For all I care, the part of East Asian culture that has birthed this infamous ‘rigid standards of beauty, and, conduct’ can go to fucking hell. If you’re the type of person who’s even the slightest bit proud—or defensive—of this you can go and fuck yourself. No one should be proud of that kind of a racist, fascist, repulsive, little bitch mindset. Are you a little bitch? I ain’t one.

I am a Supreme Bitch! Imma be myself and do whatever the fuck I want and look however I want. And if my society can’t take that? Those types of people—Asian or no Asian—can die on the wrong side of history! I. AM. MY OWN. PROTOTYPE.

perspective: Why BUSHIDO Is The Root of All Social Problems in Japan by Let’s ask Shogo

documentary: WE ARE X on YouTube (watch before it’s taken down LOL)

‘X challenged a conservative Japanese society and showed us a new way to be. They started a revolution, honestly.’

‘Be proud!! Be proud of yourself! We are!! X!!!’

deck-bottom: X(!?!) The Wheel of Fortune, Priestess of Ambition, Gold Magus (Johannes Faustus)

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – A Light of Innocence in this Insanely Debased World

playlist: silly playlist for silly people with rare songs!! by Rita wild

the TYPA beauty you are – Page of Cups

You are someone who’s known for being quite childlike. It could be that you do look young, but it’s mostly your mannerism. Technically speaking, it’s just YOU being the happy pill that you are. Listen, some of you tuning into this Pile could be dark and sombre on the inside—especially if you have a significant Scorpio/Pluto about you or if you’ve had a very unhappy childhood—but the way you’re perceived on the outside is totally bright, beautifully soft and pleasant, and dang, people really be liking your aenergy when you’re in a room.

You’re the type of beauty that exudes ‘purity’ in the most innocent way, no matter how you look or dress. You could be perceived as ethereal or unreal. otherworldly in a sense that you don’t seem to fit in this dimension. Are you an alien? Are you a goddess? Are you a fairy, elf, or an anime character? People may not have the exact words to describe you but you’re INTERDIMENSIONAL is what’s going on.

It isn’t just your physical beauty or the attractive way that you smile. People may not realise this themselves either but what’s truly beautiful about you is this VIBE or AURA that you generate from having a vastly pure heart. No, no, not pure in the sense that you never think sexy thoughts, what? Pure in the sense that you really operate from your Higher Heart and has very little ego driving your ambitions in Life~^_☆-v

effects on the world around you – Ace of Cups Rx

Basically, you just love beautiful things. You always look for beautiful things. And you make an effort to surround yourself with things you find beautiful in your own standards. And in a way, you’re also the kind of person who sees beauty in everything and everybody. You’re the type of person who sees Light even in a narc’s darkest corners of their blackened heart (if they had one), which is really such a beautiful thing but could also prove DANGEROUS!

It’s wonderful to have childlike wonder but it ain’t cool whatsoever to be childish enough not to acknowledge the presence of evil fucks. Bad people exist, OK? Very predatory and murderous people exist, OK? And it’s a spectrum. And you’ve been such an easy target for those on the milder spectrum of psychopathy! Babe! OMG You’re often drained of good aenergy after catering to the stupid whims of very narcissistic, histrionic, pathetic, selfish and whiney fucks.

STOP THAT. Of all the Piles, you’re the type of soft beauty who’s often underestimated and taken for granted just because you’re always so positive. If not ‘positive’ per se, you’re perceived as ‘strong’, so those types of people don’t even feel shame for constantly taking and demanding your aenergy. Keep allowing that long enough and your physical beauty could be drained out of you by the time your First Saturn Return jaywalks along and smacks you in the head.

keep being you, Glorious One – 6 of Swords Rx

Truly, you’re a silly angel who holds the power to absorb other people’s pain and gloomy feelings. But if this is your main pile, thing is, you might not have learnt how to release or transmute the negativity you’ve absorbed from your surroundings. It is paramount that you learn to call upon divine protection so that you’re shielded from the Evil Eye of those who are envious of your beauty and feel silly in your purity. Your Spirit Guides aren’t saying that you should stop being innocent, right?

A Soul like you is very rare in this perverted world. Some people might say, ‘They don’t make people like you anymore…’ WRONG. You’re the catalyst, if anything. By your example, there’s gonna be MORE people who are gonna be comfortable in their purity. Knowing that there’s nothing wrong with them for being this way. Fully comprehending that it is this world that’s gone too insane, and DEBASED. And this world has been this way for far longer than people realise. I mean, I’m sure you’re aware of how inhumane most people were in the medieval times LOL

Keep being the innocent and pure you, Glorious One. What you’re being advised to do is learn to set healthy boundaries from which you can still shine your Light safely. I’m being told that many of you choosing this Pile, due to your heightened sense of aesthetic, might want to have a social media presence or any kind of public platform where you’re free to share bits and pieces of your beautiful Life as a form of your Lightwork. Some kind of a lifestyle influencer?

I’m thinking of channels and blogs that typically share aesthetic daily vlogs and stuff like that—like nemui atelier on YouTube. You know what I mean; I don’t know what I mean XD

YOUR BEAUTY KILLS🔻💙

story of your evolution – Priestess of Prosperity

a legacy of authenticity – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – An Unexpectedly Romantic Dreamer of Luxury

playlist: songs like 𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 (MITSKI) by song with love

the TYPA beauty you are – 2 of Cups

Ah~! You are such a dreamy and romantic beauty! You’re soft, elegant, sweet and lovely, with a kicking spice for those who would get on your bad side LMAO You’re actually a lot tougher than appearances give but most people don’t always get this until they’ve gotten to know you. For the most part, at first glance, at first encounter, you’re a sweet goddess, who probably gets projected on a lot.

You really have an unassuming quality about you. So then, people think there’s not much going on within and think it’s easy to typecast you into something, with some simplistic label. People think it’s easy to figure you out and classify you into some kind of a dream girl who’s always going to be nice, warm and friendly with everybody. You’re not. You’re a totally self-respecting babe. Actually, you really hate it when people act like they know you.

When people act like they’re close, buddy-buddy with you, it’s super annoying and depending on your mood that day, you could sometimes feel this urge to break people’s faces. But you don’t do that; you’re too nice. And you’ve got a plethora of coping mechanisms to deal with how annoyed you are with your surrounding XD Good for you!

effects on the world around you – 5 of Swords Rx

First of all, I think many of you tapping into this Pile love shopping. Retail is definitely your therapy. Is this good? Is this bad? Depends, I guess. You tend to spend money gregariously or consume a lot of food, or buy a lot of aesthetic knickknacks, or buy a lot of arts and craft as a means of therapy. Deep down, you’re somebody who has a lot of anger or a general sense of dissatisfaction with the world you’re a part of and this rage, almost, needs to be channelled creatively.

There’s a perpetual sense of disgust inside of you. You’re keen to observe and notice how much Humanity is failing. Everything that is ugly about society and people in general disgusts you. That’s why it’s important for you to live in beauty or indulge in creativity. That’s why it is paramount that your immediate surrounding, that your own Life, within what you’re able to control, is beautified to the max. You could be quite desperate in this pursuit because this is some kind of an overcompensation for the beauty and creativity that you feel is lacking in the world.

Your aenergy is kinda reminding me of this quote by the iconic Edie Sedgwick when describing why she dressed up the way she did:

‘When I was girl of the year and superstar and all that crap, everything I did was really…motivated by psychological disturbance. But I’d make a mask out of my face because I didn’t realize I was quite beautiful…I had to wear heavy black eyelashes like bat wings and dark lines under my eyes. Cut all of my hair off and strip it silver and blond. All these little manoeuvres I did out of things that were happening in my life that upset me. I’d freak out in a very physical way, and…it was all taken in a fashion trend.’

In fact, I think all of her famous words here could resonate with you. You are what trend-setters and superstars are made of, that much of your effect on the world is certain~

keep being you, Glorious One – Queen of Pentacles

Really, that’s all dandy as long as you can make a living out of your pursuit of beauty and creativity. This about you is really something that you can utilise as a means of therapy, self-care and self-improvement because you really are an artist, one way or another. It would be wonderful if you could monetise your beauty and creativity in some trendy way.

If you feel that you’re not particularly good at any kind of ‘real’ art, then you can ‘serve face’ to help other people sell their shit. You don’t think this is smart enough? Muses are often people who don’t do art—rather they inspire Art in the minds and hearts of other artists. Truly, you are an artist; but those of you tuning into this Pile who feel like you’re not one…you are potentially someone’s Muse.

Luxury is yours for the taking. But a lot of people in this world pursue luxury and some form of fame for vapid reasons and that often makes people very unhappy. Your Spirit Guides are saying that you do have a talent for balancing modern money-making and self-care. I think what they mean to say is that, you can be the prototype for how people can be completely and uniquely offbeat whilst still maintaining a good work-life balance.

After all, you do remember how much people like to project on you, right? Well, use them to make Life a lot easier! XD After all, it’s not like their projection and labelling would be useful any other way LOL🐙

YOUR BEAUTY KILLS🔻💜

story of your evolution – Priestess of Luxury

a legacy of authenticity – Green Historian (Herodotus)

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – A Ghostly Bitch Witch Who’s Quite Literally a Fucken Sigma

playlist: Everything Is Still Under Control by Mabisyo

the TYPA beauty you are – Queen of Wands Rx

You, are, by nature, magical. You’re incredibly magnetic and this ain’t even something you’ve needed to work on; it all comes naturally. If anything, it seems you’ve needed to learn the very hard way how to shield yourself from aenergy vampires. You’ve needed to work on your boundary. This is because it took you such a long time to realise most everybody around you was nothing but anklebiters. These were people who just wanted to be seen orbiting you because doing so would elevate their status or image.

Whether or not you’re aware of it, you’re quite literally thee IT girl. You’re also THAT girl, because a lot of what you do and just who you are is very aspirational. Well of course aspirational to the motivated ones; to the weak, lame-ass ones? Almost everything about you is irritating. And most people are really lame, don’t we all agree on this? So you may have felt like you’re really quite an unlikeable character. WRONG. Dead wrong. It’s not you; it’s your lame-ass environment.

You’re a Queen of Passion who’s been living in peasant quarters, figuratively speaking. You’ve been surrounded by misers who don’t even understand why it’s deeply important for them to raise their own standards of authenticity. Thing is, they can’t afford to be authentic. It’s probably not entirely their fault—after all, peasants are highly dependent on thee System. Not you. You’re the menacingly magnetic bitch witch of a system buster!

effects on the world around you – 8 of Cups

As much as you make an effort to be left alone, you magnetise admirers to no end. This is reminiscent of Greta Garbo’s famous quote, ‘I never said, "I want to be alone". I only said, "I want to be left alone". There is a whole world of difference.’ It’s true with you as well. You’re not necessarily an antisocial bitch who hates people; you just want to be left alone by gluttonous gossipers and silly simpers. You find it hard to grasp why people behave unreasonably in society, all, the, time.

You yearn for a more intellectual world where people behave honourably, which is quite paradoxical considering you’re often perceived as quite scandalous in your behaviour and lifestyle choices as well. For example, you could be gay or queer? You could desire to defy social norms such as ‘having to marry by a certain age’? You either reject social norms or you live completely opposite to what’s expected of your gender, nationality or age. You don’t like being told how to live your Life as if you couldn’t work it out yourself. It's YOUR Life, right?

It’s MY Life! My Story! Is what you say.

You’re the kind of super bad bitch that gives no one permission to decide how you should sail your ship. You’re at the wheel so you’re gonna sail the world however best you know. You’re gonna learn a ton because you’re not afraid of detours or delays or whatever—you could meet accidents, hopefully not fatal ones, but you’re going to learn. That’s what growing up well is all about for you. And if you meet the right kind of audience, your whole AURA is going to empower them to do just the same for themselves~

keep being you, Glorious One – 4 of Cups Rx

You are destined for an exciting Life. In fact, you’re meant to have an audience, have some kind of impact on the world, you’re meant to become some kind of a famous person. Could be a celeb, yeah, but in this social media era, literally everybody can have their own unique kind of celebrity, right? You’re meant to be seen, heard, listened to, watched, analysed (LOL), and learn from.

You’re somebody who’s rare and your perspectives are deeply needed by this world. This world that’s often blindsided by optical illusions. Of all people, you’re the only one who’s not getting sucked into the mirage of mass media and deceitful politicians. You’re the one who’s noticing where the lies are all at. And you need to point that shit out, spell it out for other people to see what’s truly going on in this world.

You could gain enemies, lots of them, in fact; but you are definitely gaining a massive following far greater than that if you remain authentic and courageous. Stay spooky. Stay scandalous. Stay gloriously YOU~ You’ve no idea just how much that Light of yours is needed in this world of long shadows. Keep your Third Eye open and keep your divine protection. Most people have yet to catch on to the one thing that makes YOU superfluously attractive: a courageous Heart that seeks to liberate others from the chains of their own cowardice.

YOUR BEAUTY KILLS🔻🧡

story of your evolution – Priestess of Luck

a legacy of authenticity – Green Magus (John Dee)

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 2]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

[theresattrpgforthat]

Hello!! Do you know any TTRPGs surrounding translation or languages? 😊 (thanks for all your work btw!!!)

THEME: Language / Translation Games

Hello friend! As someone who studied linguistics in university, I absolutely love talking about all of the funky things languages do! I hope these recommendations tickle your fancy!

Dialect, by Thorny Games.

Dialect is a game about an isolated community, their language, and what it means for that language to be lost. In this game, you’ll tell the story of the Isolation by building their language. New words will come from the fundamental aspects of the community: who they are, what they believe in, and how they respond to a changing world.

Dialect uses a deck of cards to help minimize the amount of choices you have to make in character creation, by dealing three cards to each player and having the players choose one from just those three. You track the change of your language over a series of turns, using prompts to help you navigate the conversations that arise in your community as the world around them changes.

Dialect has been very highly regarded as a game that really delivers on the experience that it promises. The grief that accompanies language death really shines through this game, so if you want to combine the wonder of creation with the pain of losing something so integral to your sense of being, this is the game for you.

Tiny Frog Wizards, by @prokopetz

You have mastered the secret arts of sorcery

The very primordial energies of creation and destruction are yours to wield as you will.

You are two inches tall.

Tiny Frog Wizards is a game about tiny frogs, wielding magic using the power of words. When you want to do something magical, you will roll somewhere between 1-3 dice, and use the values of your rolled dice to determine how the range, magnitude, and control of your magic.

What’s important in terms of this game recommendation is the Control aspect, because how well you are able to wield your magic depends on how many words you are able to use to make things happen! It’s a lot easier to use a spell with precision if you have enough words to detail where you want a magical pen to write, or what you want to throw a tiny magic missile at. Not enough words? Then the GM has license to cause some humorous side effects, or, if you roll poorly enough, cause your spells to really go off the rails.

If you like games where you need to choose your words carefully, Tiny Frog Wizards is worth checking out - especially since it’s in free playtest!

Xenolanguage, by Thorny Games.

Xenolanguage is a tabletop role-playing game about first contact with alien life, messy human relationships and what happens when they mix together.  At its core, you explore your pivotal relationships with others on the mission as you uncover meaning in an alien language. The game gives a nod to soulful sci-fi media like Arrival, Story of Your Life and Contact, but tells its own story. It’s a game for 2-4 players in 3-4 hours.

In Xenolangauge, you play as a group of people bound together through a shared past with unsettled questions. Your task is to understand why the aliens have come and what they are trying to tell us. You will soon discover the key to understanding lies in your memories together.

This is definitely an in-person game, as it is meant to come with a modular channeling board that will provide you with alien symbols that you will use to help you interpret messages. This is more than a game about language, it’s about relationship, shared memories, and connection.

Xenolanguage was kickstarted at the beginning of this year, but you can check out the above link to pre-order the game if this sounds interesting to you!

Star-Spawned, by Penguin King Games.

One unearthly night, a ray of colourless light descended from the stars, and under its warping radiance, creatures unlike any the world has ever seen were born. They do not know the world, and they do not know themselves. Unfortunately for the world, they're quick learners!

Star-Spawned is a GMless, oneshot-oriented tabletop RPG in which you don't know what your own traits do when play begins. The names of each group's stats are randomly generated using morpheme chaining, and characters are created while having absolutely no idea what they mean; figuring that out forms the greater part of play.

Star-Spawned is more about self discovery than it is about language, but the use of morpheme-chaining in character creation is intriguing to me. You will randomly roll three pieces of a word, and then chain them together to create a unique Facet, available to the players as stats. These Facets don’t have a meaning when the game begins - you need to play to find out what they mean. If you like playing around with semantics - the meaning of words - this might be a game for you.

Degenerate Semantics, by Mikael Andersson.

Degenerate Semantics is a role-playing game for 1-5 players and one Game Master (GM). The players will each portray a character who live in Emmaloopen's poverty-stricken lower city. They are young, wild, ambitious, and independent. This way of life is threatened by other factions, and the players will need to have their characters work together to survive and thrive.

In the process of playing the game, the players and GM will define and flesh out a language called Bandethal. A collection of street terms and slang, Bandethal is used both as a way to talk openly about illicit activities without alerting authorities and to establish street cred. The terms are liberally mixed in with plain English, or when the language is mature enough, can be used entirely on its own. The characters' success is in large part based on how proficiently the players wield the language.

A friend of mine ran this game for me three or four years ago, and it’s been sitting in the back of my head ever since. Degenerate Semantics was created for a Game Chef competition in 2014, and has remained in the same state since then. I don’t think there’s any more work being done on it, but the game is there for anyone who wants to give it a go - and while there’s a setting that comes with the game, that setting is highly flexible, depending on what your group is interested in. Our group decided to use a lot of gardening metaphors, and undertook a plant-based heist as our act of rebellion! If you want a game about the power that language can give a tightly-knit group, this is the game for you.

I've Also Recommended...

DROWWORD, by Ursidice.

[indierpgnewsletter]

New TTRPGs In June and July 2024

Welcome to another itch.io round up. If this is the first post like this that you’re seeing: every two months I highlight around ten new games. Most of these games are small in scope and I usually have not played or even read them. I’m often just picking them based on whats caught my idiosyncratic eye. I hear about most of these games through this form.

False Kingdom: Survive a succession crisis in 12th century England playing delightful named characters with hilarious special abilities. From Jim R and Marsh D, the designers of TEETH. (PWYW)

Freak Folio: The artist known as Chaoclypse releases a book where you mix and match monsters to create abominations for your fantasy game.

The Girls of the Genziana Hotel: Chambermaids investigating the disappearance of one of their own in a spooky 19th century German hotel. (Hendrik ten Napel, PWYW)

Against Time and Death: Two-player game of war, self-discovery, and connection across all of time and space. Inspired by This Is How You Lose the Time War. (Nick Bate)

Tarnation: Solo journalling in a weird west setting with multiple pre-made adventures. (Symbolic City)

For Small Creatures Such As We: Solo or GM-less game about a human captain and a crew of aliens where you explore the galaxy and your relationships. (Anna Blackwell)

’till it kills us: A game about queer activism, mental health and the delicate balance between the two. Uses a system that requires you to work together to use your cool powers. (Damsels & Dice)

Paranormal Wellington: A comedy roleplaying game about bumbling TV investigators and supernatural shenanigans. (Morgan Davie)

Fight or Fright: A Halloween Trick-or-treating game about magical costumes, possessed decorations, and scoring lots of candy. (Alex Marinkovich-Josey)

Fording the Derbal Yerrigan: A game about removing an invasive species that uses an Uno deck. (Pidj Sorensen)

That’s all for this week!

(As always, this was first posted on the Indie RPG Newsletter).

[dailycharacteroption]

Races Among the Stars 9: Samsaran

We’ve covered samsarans before on the blog in their First Edition Pathfinder form, but much like the perpetually reincarnating people, things have come full-circle with us covering their Starfinder version (at least until we start doing 2nd Edition ancestries and the upcoming Starfinder 2E’s take on them, again, paralleling the endless loop of reincarnation)

But this also closes the loop in a different way as well, as this is the last of the Pathfinder throwbacks that were introduced to the game in Starfinder Alien Character Deck, which was little more than useful flash cards for remembering the traits of various species, either for forgetful players or perhaps more usefully as a way to help a GM quickly switch out the species of pre-generated statblocks on the fly.

Either way, all of those aforementioned species also got reprinted in both Interstellar Species and in Starfinder Enhanced, adding some actual lore to how those species actually fit into the galaxy of the far future, which is nice. (Does anyone remember when the general consensus for where kobolds were was “They all vanished/died with Golarion”? Easily the most boring possible answer and I’m glad they quashed that with some interesting if borderline retcon meta-joke new lore.

Buuuut we’re getting of topic, let’s talk about samsarans!

True to their name, which is based on the concept of the endless cycle of life, death, and rebirth in Hindu and Buddhist traditions, samsarans were a clade of humans born into a cycle of constant reincarnation, often starting out born as ordinary humans to samsaran parents that give them up to normal human adoptive parents, only for them to reincarnate as samsarans the first time they die, and so on and so forth.

Unlike other species and souls that choose reincarnation in the afterlife, samsarans retain a lof of memories from their past lives, though they are often hazy and incomplete, like vivid dreams to their new incarnation. Even with such gaps, however, that knowledge gives them access to information and skills they wouldn’t normally possess, and helps them infer who they used to be, and how to incorporate the wisdom gleaned from those memories into their daily lives and towards a greater state of enlightenment in preparation for the next life. (Which, ironically, is kinda the opposite of what one normally WANTS to do when one subscribes to the idea of the real-life idea of samsara, but that’s neither here nor there).

Now, you may have noticed that earlier I described that samsarans “were” a clade of humans. That wasn’t a slip of the keyboard on my part, because now that samsarans are no longer bound necessarily to one specific world, their pact with Pharasma has changed slightly. Now, samsarans can be born on any world… and to any sapient species, though without homebrewing, these rare non-human samsarans have the same statistics as others of their kind, though with homebrew, well, that just opens up all sorts of new doors, doesn’t it?

Samsarans, unsurprisingly, appear to be humans (or members of their parent species) with pale skin and hair in shades of white, blue, or purple, as well as clear blood and seemingly pupilless eyes.

While there were once enclaves of samsarans that used divination to locate newly-reborn samsarans and bring them into the fold, such things are much more rare now in a far future where one’s already-rare species is spread out across the galaxy. As such, modern samsarans are more likely to simply adopt their parent culture, though samsaran culture still exists in the form of writings and recordings, both publicly available and hidden away that the young can seek out for guidance and a sense of cultural identity with the rest of their kind.

Of course, the advent of multimedia and VI means that this can also be rather disconcerting. Imagine if your past self created a VI or even AI simulacrum of themselves and hid it away for a future reincarnation. Imagine meeting someone that is both you and also not you and the same time. Probably would take a bit to get used to, though on the other hand, Vlogs and extensive digital memoirs from a past can help a young samsaran better connect with those memories, and possibly go about continuing the goals of their past self, which some samsarans do.

Samsarans bear the wisdom and cunning of multiple past lives, but their bodies are somewhat frail (probably all that lack of hemoglobin).

However, they are especially resilient to magical and supernatural effects that target their lifeforce directly, and they’re surprisingly good at bouncing back from injury and disease even if the initial infection tends to knock them on rears.

Their curious eyes also also surprisingly good at absorbing light in dark conditions, letting them see better in limited light.

Samsarans also have a bit of inherent magic, able to breach language barrier one-way, stabilize the dying, and share their memories with others.

Additionally, their memories from past lives include some practical skills as well, though the exact specifics vary between individuals, as their old souls latch onto different things from their past lives.

Much like the thyrs of yesterday’s entry, samsarans are well-equipped for a myriad of smart-guy classes and builds, with mystics being a natural fit due to their half-divine, half-occult schtick meshing well with samsarans theme-wise. However, technomancers, mechanics, biohackers, skill-based envoyed and operatives are also good picks. Precog and witchwarper also share some lovely themes with samsarans with their focus on possible paths in life and such. Meanwhile, like thyrs, they also struggle a bit with melee combat, though for different reasons, since it’s constitution they lack instead of strength. As such, combat-oriented samsarans prefer ranged soldiers, solarians, and evolutionists, while nanocytes and vanguards are a bit of a harder sell, albeit not impossible. Despite their frailty, samsarans can do a lot to overcome that weakness and be very effective no matter what class they choose to take.

And that does it for this week! Tune in Monday for another week of archetypes and character options!

[aclkplm208-blog]

Transporter Chief Bearon

Meet the Transporter Chief of the Enterprise-F in Star Trek Unity: Chief Bearon.

[dalekofchaos]

Didn't have enough room for it, but the Paternoster Gang, so if you want that, just reply or reblog with that option

Context

U.NI.IT.

the Unified Intelligence Taskforce. The Power of the Doctor set up a new UNIT that recruited some of the Doctor's former companions so it feels like there's fertile ground for a show about who protects modern-day Earth when the Doctor's not available. An episodic structure would fit a UNIT show well, allowing it to shift from espionage thriller, to alien invasion, to weird science, like The X-Files.

An alternative UNIT show could follow in the footsteps of Star Trek: Lower Decks by focusing on a group of lowly officers who are left to pick up the pieces after one of the big exciting Doctor Who alien invasions. The Doctor always leaves a lot of destruction in their wake, so it would provide a lot of opportunities for an affectionate parody of Doctor Who. They could be led by a former UNIT operative like Sergeant Benton (John Levene) who would be an ideal character for an irreverent Doctor Who comedy. There's a lot of potential for UNIT in the new RTD era and hopefully, the Disney+ deal can help to realize it.

For obvious reasons, Jack and Mickey would be recast

Companions united.

Showing everyone who traveled with the Doctor saving the world in their own way. Each episode showing individual companions. From all the alive Classic Companions to all the New Who Companions.

Master Who? Basically The Master's show and showing what happens when The Doctor isn't there to stop The Master's universal conquest. And The Master taking on the worst people imaginable as companions. Could have Michelle Gomez, John Simm, Sascha Dhawan, Derek Jacobi, Geoffrey Beevers, Eric Roberts and Gordon Tipple return as their respective Masters/Missy

Time Lord Academy. The childhood of The Doctor, Master, and Rani during their years at the academy

Eighth Doctor adventures.

Finally giving Eight the run he deserves. Could bring in Charley or Lucie as his companions and lead into Eight in the Time War

Showing Romana and Leela on Gallifrey. During Romana's reign as Time Lady President. Leading to the Time War and how Romana was removed from power and Leela's last stand

[warpcoreweirdness]

just finished season 2 of Lower Decks and i'm SO glad i tried this show again

i actually started the show a while ago, but the constant easter eggs put me off.

(i still don't know how non-Trekkie viewers are meant to get the jokes where the punchline is "reference!! 😂", but lots of people enjoy it so ymmv).

i stopped a few minutes into episode 2 after Rutherford agrees to quit his job as an engineer so he can watch the Trivoli pulsar with Tendi.

i honestly thought it was going to be a storyline about a guy giving up a job he loves and making his boss angry so that he can spend time with a female friend he has a crush on, because that's the plotline i've been conditioned to expect from tv. i wasn't feeling excited about the show, so i put it on pause.

but if i'd watched for about two more seconds before noping out for a few months, i would've seen this:

when i started watching again, i realised that the episodes never bog themselves down in drawn-out, uncomfortable storyline or character staples - they're actually incredibly well-written, tightly paced, and tell their stories in just the right amount of time. Rutherford wants to be Tendi's friend (at least for now), his boss Billups is really supportive, and Tendi brings a PADD into the Jefferies tube so they can both do what they enjoy, separately but together.

another great part about that scene with Rutherford and his boss is something that Lower Decks does a lot, which is make jokes that actually rely on subverting audience expectations. a big example - and a way of referencing other parts of the Star Trek franchise that does work for me - is when the creators gently poke fun at or subvert common story beats, emotional arcs, or dramatic moments from other parts of Trek.

like when Rutherford loses his memory and Tendi is excited to get to know him again, rather than devastated that he doesn't remember her.

or when they save themselves from being smooshed by Dooplers by dramatically ejecting the warp core of their tiny model starship.

or when Tendi goes on an arc of significant personal development over the course of one (1) whole episode.

they're general enough that even people who haven't seen other Star Trek shows (or movies) can still recognise and appreciate them.

beyond this, the show also has great moments where they (lovingly) cast a light on some of the flaws and foibles in the franchise, often in subtle or comedic ways.

like showing people in beep chairs living their best lives (in contrast to TOS and SNW's view of the beep chair as a tragic, doomsday fate for Pike).

or using Tendi to comment on Trek's depiction of Orions specifically as all pirates and slavers, and alien cultures more generally as monocultures.

or even just acknowledging that Trek shows mostly focus on the bridge crew doing heroic first contact-esque adventures, when that can't be all there is to Starfleet.

heck, they even have Rutherford go on a journey of acceptance and self-discovery after a permanent memory wipe (in contrast to Uhura in TOS, where it's never mentioned again).

another reason i really appreciate the show is that the creators have taken the time to think through what a more inclusive future could look like, in ways that are noticeably lacking or absent in many other Trek shows:

beyond exploring diversity through explicit identity representation (which is still very important), it does this through its world building as well.

i love this communal sonic shower scene for what it says about gender and body politics in Trek. in the future, why would we still separate bathrooms and changing rooms by gender? and why would we have the same views and expectations around bodies that we (by "we" i mean Western countries) do now?

this short scene dismantles the idea that nudity is inherently sexual, that gender is binary and biological, that some genders can't be trusted around other genders while naked, and that heterosexuality is the default (and when you bring dozens of alien species into the mix, why wouldn't we have more and newer ways of thinking about gender?). it even has a little mention that Boimler prefers not to shower with others, leaving space for people to act however feels most comfortable for them.

it's such a little thing, but after years spent (lovingly) yelling at the screen during TNG, TOS, DS9, etc saying, "why are they assuming everyone is straight? WHY would people be this sexist?", i noticed it immediately and appreciated it immensely.

(this isn't related to the storytelling, but i also have to say - the animation in Lower Decks is so pretty???):

this isn't a perfect show, but it's funny, has fantastic storytelling, and it loves the source material without worshipping it. (which is not something i expected to say, given how it started).

plus i love these characters SO MUCH.

so far, so very good 🤞.

(image descriptions in alt text)

[mononijikayu]

too sweet — ryomen sukuna.

His gaze did not waver as he leaned in, the intensity of his eyes locked onto yours, communicating a depth of emotion that words could scarcely convey. You felt his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, before his lips met yours in a soft, exploratory kiss that spoke of a thousand unspoken promises. The gentleness of the kiss was a stark contrast to the fierce battles and harsh realities that both of you faced daily; here, in this moment, there was only gentleness, only love.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: too sweet by hozier

note: i was distracted writing this because my mother came from thailand and brought home the best sandwiches from 7/11 thailand. i just??? i think i fell in love. other than that, they've grown up and fallen in love for each other!!! let's see how their love story <333 mwah <333

HE’D NEVER THOUGHT HE’D EVER BE IN THIS POSITION SEVEN YEARS LATER. As the wind caressed his face, Sukuna's stern gaze took in the increasingly familiar landscape unfolding before him. The languid rustle of cherry blossoms caught in a spring breeze, their petals scattering whimsically, began to ease the tension in his shoulders. The lively calls of fisherfolk, a harmonious chorus that had once been foreign to his ears, now beckoned warmly from one end of the bustling docks to the other.

Approaching the land, the sight of double herons embroidered on rich, silken purple flags fluttering against the wooden decks of the patrol ships struck a chord within him. A subtle smile tugged at the corners of his mouth—a rare, involuntary expression of contentment. For years, the concept of home had been an alien idea to him. As an orphan boy, he had never known a consistent backdrop, nor had he felt a compelling need to root himself in a place that promised permanence.

Yet, here he was, years later, feeling the weight of reformation. Ryomen Sukuna had wrestled with the need for a place to call home for many moons, and now, as he stood on the precipice of return, he found it waiting for him. Home, once a strange and elusive notion, had slowly woven itself into the fabric of his existence, coloring his world with a sense of belonging he had never dared to imagine before.

The familiar sights and sounds that he had once observed with detachment now welcomed him with the quiet affirmation of arrival. Home was no longer just a place, but a living tapestry of experiences and memories that, against all odds, had claimed him as its own.

Sukuna hadn’t anticipated that his mission would stretch out so long; after all, the curse wasn't particularly formidable. However, as time passed, the whispers of his prowess in jujutsu began to permeate far and wide. You had always cautioned Sukuna to maintain discretion in his work—reminding him that a Ryomen does not boast nor seek glory in fulfilling his duty.

He vividly recalled the countless times you made him write those words repeatedly whenever his confidence edged into arrogance. Hiramu had ingrained this principle deeply, reiterating it time and again, especially when Sukuna found himself kneeling in penance for any youthful misdeeds.

Despite this, the enthusiastic accolades and expressions of gratitude from those he helped, intertwined with your praise, had become a secret indulgence for him, a reward he guiltily cherished. He was well aware that his rising fame likely irked other clans.

They were losing clients, gifts, and, most crucially, influence—a fact he was sure had not escaped the ears of clan leaders who probably complained to your father over the past seven years. Yet, Sukuna remained indifferent to their displeasure of these foolish, pitiful clans; his primary allegiance was to you and your interests. And to you, it was the prestige of the clan. 

Thus, he continued unabated, accepting mission after mission. To prove himself. To hone his jujutsu. To serve you. Even though he disliked being away for extended periods, he still did what he must. He felt you needed him more than those he aided, but you smiled at him each and every time, telling him to go.

You told him you were proud of him, even before he left. Each mission must be impeccable. Your name was on the line, as much as your honor was. He was a part of you. And so, he had to do well. He had to be stronger. He had to be greater. 

The thought of disappointing you was unbearable to him. He couldn't risk drawing your ire, not when he yearned so deeply for the comforting touch of your hand in his once more. It was as painful as to see you harmed in the field, doing the dirty work of the elders who can’t be bothered to exercise curses themselves. His devotion to you dictated his actions, guiding him through a tangled web of duty and desire, each task performed a step in the dance of his allegiance, bound by the intricate threads of loyalty and love.

As Ryomen Sukuna approached the end of the pier, his silhouette was etched sharply against the setting sun. His white and red haori flew against the wind, the herons dancing against the exquisite silk. His stride was purposeful and his presence commanding, causing a stir among the few who lingered in the vicinity.

He supposed the town’s folk will never get used to the intensity of his presence. But he did not care. A lone servant dressed in Ryomen silk wool waited there, his head bowed respectfully as he anticipated Sukuna’s arrival. The moment Sukuna's footsteps halted before him, the servant looked up slightly, maintaining a posture of deep respect.

"Sukuna-sama," the servant began, his voice steady yet imbued with a palpable tension, aware of the importance of this encounter.

Sukuna's eyes narrowed slightly as he surveyed the servant. "I was expecting someone else to wait for me." he stated, his tone cool and imposing. He did not say your name, for risk of your reputation. “But it seems you were on time. Unlike last time.”

The servant swallowed, a hint of anxiety flickering across his face. "My apologies, Sukuna-sama. It would seem that Mikoto-sama was preoccupied accompanying Gojo-sama and Lady Hiromi on their ride. They were—"

Sukuna raised a hand, cutting him off mid-sentence, his displeasure evident on his features. As time went on, his annoyance of Gojo Suzaku had turned into hatred. "Why is clan leader Gojo in Hida? And did you say it was now Hiromi–sama accompanying him?" His voice grew colder with each word, and a shadow seemed to cross his features.

"Yes, Sukuna-sama," the servant hurried to explain, sensing the growing storm. "They were engaged in matters of the clans, discussing important matters. But Hiromi–sama seemed uneasy and went for a ride. Gojo–sama came along, to continue their conversation.” Sukuna's jaw tightened, and he took a moment to compose himself. The thought of Hiromi spending time with Gojo, in such intimate discussions concerning such intimacy, stirred a tumult of feelings within him.  His voice was controlled but sharp when he finally spoke. "I see. And was this meeting arranged?"

"It was planned, Sukuna–sama. Gojo-sama is here for business with Isamu–sama," the servant replied, his eyes downcast, wary of Sukuna’s reaction. ”The annual clan gathering will be hosted here in Hida, after all. Gojo–sama thought that he would discuss the matter with Isamu–sama and Hiromi–sama.”

Sukuna processed the information, his mind racing with thoughts of Hiromi and Gojo together, the implications of their meeting stretching beyond simple preparations. A surge of possessiveness and an unspoken fear gripped him—emotions he wasn't accustomed to confronting. Jealousy, he was certain, among them. But he would not let them be expressed out loud.

"Very well," Sukuna said tersely, his demeanor calm but his eyes betraying a storm brewing beneath the surface. "Make certain to inform Hiromi–sama that I had returned. Have a rider sent out, if you must.”

"Of course, Sukuna-sama," the servant responded, relieved to have been spared Sukuna's wrath but noting the undercurrent of tension.

As Sukuna turned to gaze out over the water, his mind remained on Hiromi. The servant, recognizing the dismissal, bowed deeply and retreated, leaving Sukuna alone with his thoughts. The tranquility of the scene before him contrasted starkly with the turmoil within, as he grappled with the complexities of his feelings—a mixture of protectiveness, entitlement, and a burgeoning realization of deeper emotions towards Hiromi that demanded his attention and perhaps, his action.

He purses his lips and crosses his arms.

It was not easy to feel all these at once.

But he thinks it's just what it truly was, to him.

The madness of love, that’s what it truly is.

With you, love was the unknown bountiful sea.

FATHER’S WORDS RANG OUT YOUR EARS OVER AND OVER AGAIN. As you rode atop your horse, the weight of recent events hung heavily upon you. The shock of your father's firm decision still clung tightly to your mind, refusing to dissipate. You felt a deep sense of unease; even the horse’s steady gait beneath you and the surrounding sounds of clan leader Gojo's voice failed to draw your attention or stir your passions. It seemed inevitable, this moment.

For the first time, your father had exerted a true force over your decisions, and as his vassal, he had treated you with an uncharacteristic lack of deference. You pressed your lips into a tight line, realizing it was perhaps overdue for him to assert his will over yours. You were no longer in the flush of youth, yet remained unwed and without an heir to carry on your father's legacy.

Most women of your age in your position would already have children; indeed, your mother often joyously remarked how your Fujiwara cousins had dutifully fulfilled their roles, providing heirs for their husbands. But your situation was far more complex. You were not merely your father's daughter; you were his chosen heir.

Your life and choices were inexorably tied to the clan's future. Whether in sickness or in the throes of war, your existence was a matter of clan continuity. Now, with the pressure mounting over your lack of a spouse and an heir, it seemed your father could no longer shield you from the council's increasingly pointed discussions.

Each council meeting, you knew, brought with it brooding deliberations over your future and the future of the clan. The need for you to marry and produce offspring was not just a familial expectation but a strategic necessity. What good was a clan, after all, if there were no descendants to continue its legacy? The question haunted you, echoing the stark reality that your personal desires were secondary to the clan’s needs.

As you contemplated this enforced path, a mixture of resignation and defiance took root within you. You understood your duty and the importance of your role within the clan, but the thought of a marriage arranged solely for strategic purposes—devoid of affection or choice—chafed against your deepest desires for autonomy and respect.

The landscape around you blurred into a backdrop for your turbulent thoughts, each hoofbeat of your horse a reminder of the relentless march toward a destiny chosen not by you, but for you.

This imposition on your personal freedom was a stark reminder of the sacrifices demanded by power and position. As the future clan leader, your personal happiness was intertwined with strategic alliances and clan survival. This realization did not come easily or without resentment, but as the land stretched out before you, you knew you must find a way to navigate these complex waters, preserving both your father’s legacy and your own integrity.

Lost in your own thoughts, Hiromi barely noticed the scenery changing as they approached the heart of the clan territories. It was Gojo's voice, gentle yet tinged with concern, that pulled her back to the present.

"Hiromi, are you alright?" he asked, his eyes searching hers for any sign of distress. “You seem lost in thought there. What's on your mind, little heron?"

Startled, you blinked, refocusing on the man riding alongside you. Suzaku Gojo had always been more than just a clan leader; he had been a mentor and, at times, a confidant. You had grown up with him as much as your brother had. He was a thankful constant in your life. But his presence too was comforting.

He was your better in such concerns of life, one who had experienced them more readily than you had. He was, if anything, someone you trust, on the same level as you do with your uncle and Sukuna. Perhaps, even more. 

"Yes, I'm just... considering everything that's happening," You responded to him, blinking slightly. His eyes did not waver in that concern. Your voice steady but your eyes betraying the turmoil inside. “Father had never been forceful about the idea of marriage before. The council of elders was another thing, but well, father was always another.”

Gojo nodded back at her, his eyes softly gazing at you. “It’s understandable. Your father has thought to give you the same freedoms as that of a man, to choose your intended. It is your right as heir.”

“It is my right.” You gently reiterated back to him. “But to see him fold like that….”

“I shall say this, I do understand your father’s concern.”

You raised a brow at him. “In what way?”

“You are his only heir now—”

“Sukuna is one of his heirs.” You retorted back to him, urging your horse forward again. “He is my uncle’s son. He has a name. He has the power, the strength. He can be my heir.”

Suzaku sighed, “But he will not be inheriting the blood of your father. Sukuna is one of you but–”

You turned to him sharply. “There are no buts, no ifs. He is one of us. He is my kin. That is why this is preposterous.”

“It is not truly as preposterous as you think.” 

“Says the man who is a bachelor by choice.” You snickered back at him sharply. Suzaku laughed. You sighed. “How do men have more choices than women?”

Gojo's laughter faded into a knowing smile, an acknowledgment of the sharpness in your words. His gaze, still filled with a mixture of respect and understanding, remained fixed on you as your horse picked up pace alongside his.

"Indeed, I have chosen to remain a bachelor," Gojo conceded with a nod, the lines around his eyes deepening with his smile. "And you're right; men often do face fewer constraints in these matters. It's an imbalance, rooted deep within our traditions.”

Your frustration was palpable, the reins tight in your hands as you navigated the uneven path. "And yet, here I am, expected to marry not for love or even respect, but for alliance and convenience," you said, your voice tinged with bitterness. "Is it so wrong to want more from life than strategic marriages?"

Gojo's expression sobered, his horse slowing to match the contemplative pace of your own. "It's not wrong at all," he replied sincerely. "In fact, it's a sign of your strength and your understanding of what true leadership involves. It's about merging duty with personal happiness, which is a difficult but not impossible balance to achieve."

“How would you know?”

“I was a child born out of love.” Gojo retorted back to you, with a prideful smile. You rolled your eyes at him. “It’s not entirely impossible for you to find some poor piss sod of a  second son with good blood as your consort.”

You glanced at him, the setting sun casting shadows across your path, mirroring the complexity of your thoughts. "Certainly not the Zenin second son, if that is who you imply," you murmured dismissively. “At the very least, they should let me choose. They handed me a list, but they must ‘access’ him if he is indeed worthy of me.”

Gojo took a breath. "Your father is in a difficult position. As much as he values your freedom, your choice, he also faces the burden of ensuring the clan's future stability. The council made him realize that. Your marriage isn't just about you or him; it's about the entire clan's lineage and the alliances that will sustain it into the future."

"The weight of legacy," you sighed, the realization settling in like a cold blanket. "And what of Sukuna?" you asked, turning to your friend. "You say he cannot be the heir, but he has the strength and the respect of many within and outside our clan. He has the Ryomen name. Isn’t that worth something?"

"Sukuna is indeed capable," Gojo agreed, "and his contributions are invaluable. But leadership of a clan as prominent as yours, involves more than personal strength. The council will never approve of putting you aside. Woman you may be but you are their kin. And most blessed of the gods, with your powers. They’d not risk handing that over to another bloodline. Sukuna, while respected, will never gain the approval of the council. You know that too well, Hiromi."

You did know that well. 

But you did not wish to believe it.

You wished that it was all too easy.

As you rode alongside Gojo, the silence stretched between you, filled with the distant sounds of nature and the soft thudding of your horses' hooves against the soft earth. Your mind churned with thoughts, particularly of Sukuna, and the complex web of emotions that his potential marriage stirred within you. The idea of him choosing a partner, possibly from outside the clan, and the resulting distance that it might create, unsettled you deeply.

You had always relied on Sukuna, not just as a cousin or a fellow warrior, but as a pillar in your life—a constant presence whose strength and understanding had often been the anchor in your turbulent role as heir. The thought of him being tied to someone else, of sharing the bond you valued so much with another, felt like a quiet threat to the stability you depended on.

In the reflective quiet of your ride, you realized how much you needed him to remain close, both physically and in loyalty. "If Sukuna were to marry," you finally spoke, breaking the silence, "I hope it would be someone from within our clan." Your voice carried a mix of hope and a subtle plea, laden with unspoken reasons. Suzaku did not say anything, if he had noticed.

Gojo glanced at you, noting the undercurrent of concern in your tone. "Keeping him close would certainly be beneficial for the clan, and for you," he acknowledged. "Sukuna’s talents and his loyalty would be best served within the clan, continuing to strengthen our core."

"Exactly," you agreed, feeling a slight relief at Gojo’s understanding. "His marriage within the clan would ensure that he remains integrated in our affairs, accessible, and involved. It’s not just for personal reasons," you added, though your voice faltered slightly, betraying your personal stake in the matter.

Gojo nodded, recognizing the dual layers of your concern—both for the clan and for your own connection with Sukuna. "It’s a strategic and personal hope then," he observed wisely. "But remember, Hiromi, as much as we plan and hope, some things will ultimately be Sukuna’s decision to make, just as some of yours are yours alone. Even as his lady and he your servant — you will always be two separate souls.”

You absorbed Gojo's words, feeling the gravity of their meaning settle heavily upon you. Yes, Sukuna had his own will, his own life to lead, and while your paths were intertwined by blood and duty, they were also distinctly separate. You couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness at the acknowledgement, a reminder of the individual journeys you both must undertake, regardless of your desires for closeness.

You purse your lips in resignation, eyes casted off to the ground. “I suppose you are right. If he wishes to continue to serve me….that is up to him.”

“Don’t worry about your pretty little head too much, you’ll end up with Hiramu–sama’s wrinkles.” Suzaku jokes at you as you pout at his words, glaring at him. “Besides, ‘tis not too late to find a man to boss around, other than Sukuna–dono. There’ll be eligible bachelors at the clan gathering waiting to be bossed around like him, I’m certain!”

You gasp at your friend. “I don't boss him around! Take that back!”

Gojo's laughter trailed into the distance as he galloped ahead, leaving you momentarily alone with your thoughts. His jest, though light-hearted, sparked a mix of irritation and amusement within you. You couldn't help but smile slightly, despite the seriousness of the conversation. There’s a reason your brother had loved Suzaku like his own brother. He let the weight fall off, with one laugh. And you are, you supposed, are fond of him in that way too.

You nudge your horse forward, catching up to Gojo who had slowed down, allowing you to ride side by side once again. "You know, it's not about bossing anyone around," you began, your tone playful yet carrying an undercurrent of sincerity. "It’s about having someone who understands and shares the burden, someone who can stand by my side not just as a subordinate, but as a partner."

Gojo nodded, his expression turning thoughtful as he considered your words. "True partnership is rare, you need only look at my parents, Hiromi." He whispers back to you "but it's not unattainable. And you, Hiromi, deserve that. And I hope you have it. But such a talk of marriage, that is for life. You bound your homes, your family, your souls for all eternity. You must pick well.”

You gave him a small nod. "I shall bear it in mind.”

"As you should," Gojo responded, his tone confident. "Take this opportunity, this clan gathering, to access the suitors. Take mind of what you want — companionship, friendship, strength, mayhaps even love. Look into their souls. And pray to the gods on it.”

“I know.”

"You're not just choosing a husband, Hiromi," Gojo said as the estate’s gates came into view, silhouetted against the twilight sky. "You're choosing someone to support you as a leader, someone to stand with you against whatever challenges the future might hold."

Gojo's words carried a weight that resonated deeply within you as you neared the grand gates of the estate, the last rays of sunlight casting long shadows over the grounds. His advice was not merely practical; it was a call to introspection and discernment, a reminder of the profound implications your choice of a partner would have—not only for your personal life but for the future of the clan you were destined to lead.

"I understand, Gojo–sama," you replied, your voice tinged with the gravity of the decision that lay before you. His eyes changed, became more guarded, now that you were both returning to the world beyond the two of you. Servants bowed as you passed them by. He sighed. “I take your words into mind.”

As you passed through the estate gates, you felt the weight of your responsibilities more acutely than ever. The upcoming gathering would be a pivotal moment in your life, a time when the personal and the political would converge in the faces of the suitors presented to you. Each candidate would need to be evaluated not just for his lineage or his alliances but for his ability to be a true partner in every aspect of the word.

"Pray to the gods, indeed," you murmured to yourself, echoing Gojo's earlier advice. You knew that divine guidance, if such a thing were inclined toward your plight, would be most welcome. Yet, you also knew that the ultimate decision would come down to your own judgment, your ability to see beyond the surface and discern the true nature of those vying for your hand.

"Thank you, Gojo–sama, for your guidance," you said, offering him a sincere smile as you approached the main house. "I will take everything you’ve said to heart. It was good advice for me to ponder on.”

Gojo Suzaku returned your smile, a sense of pride evident in his eyes. "That's all I can ask for, Hiromi–sama. Know that whatever decision you make, I, and many others, will support you. You are not alone in this, nor will you ever be."

As you dismounted your horses at the stable, you parted with Suzaku, who had returned to his own quarters in the far hedges of the estate. The very best was offered to him — lest your pride would sooner give it to the Fujiwara. As you approached the main house, the fading light cast long shadows across the courtyard. 

There, standing with a poise that commanded attention despite the casual lean against a stone pillar, was Ryomen Sukuna. The sight of him, so suddenly before you, caused a small hitch in your breath—a mixture of surprise, then a flood of relief and tension. All those around you were lost in the blur as you approached him. You felt your chest tighten in joy as you looked at him. He was back home. He was safe. And he’s in here, in the flesh.

You turned to your servants as they bowed to you in reverence. You smiled at them, ordering them away. As they backed away, leaving you both to your privacy, Sukuna straightened as he noticed your approach, his expression unreadable at first, then warming slightly with a reserved smile that seemed exclusively reserved for you. His bright red eyes, sharp and discerning, scanned your demeanor as if trying to read the thoughts swirling behind your composed facade.

"Hiromi–sama," Sukuna greeted, his voice carrying a calm strength that often reminded you why he was not only respected but also deeply integral to the clan. 

You smacked his hand. “Ever so formal. They’re gone. Talk to me as you usually do, you brat.”

Sukuna's expression tightened subtly at your playful smack, a brief flash of something unspoken passing through his eyes before he masked it with a controlled smile. "Of course…night flower," he replied, his voice holding a trace of coldness that wasn't there before, as if maintaining a careful distance even in his informality. “As you wish.”

“It is my wish,” You nodded at him. “Now, tell me. What has gotten you to such a state?”

"You always preferred plain speaking," he continued, his tone smoothing into something warmer, though it still held an edge that you couldn't quite place. His gaze lingered on you a moment longer than necessary, as if trying to read your thoughts or perhaps gauge your mood.

As you looked back at him, trying to decipher the layers of his demeanor, you noticed a tension in his posture that was unusual for Sukuna. "What's the matter?" you asked, your voice tinged with concern. "You seem... different. Has the trip fatigued you?”

Sukuna shifted slightly, looking away for a moment before meeting your eyes again. "It's nothing," he said, a bit too quickly. "Just the usual clan pressures, you know how it is." His smile was back, but it didn't quite reach his eyes, leaving you with a sense of unease.

You frowned at him, looking up to him as his height towered over you. “You are displeased. But what about? Tell me. Is it something I’ve done?”

Sukuna paused, the conflict evident in his expression as he weighed his words carefully. The usual confidence that characterized his demeanor seemed momentarily shaken as he grappled with his internal struggle. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke, his voice was a mix of resignation and sincerity. His red orbs take a good look at you, the beauty of you, as you stand there, waiting for him to speak. Even now, you’re more concerned about him. More desiring to please him, to see him warmly smile. To be joyous when he’s with you. 

“It’s….” He takes a moment as your eyes plead with him, you move to take his hand into your own. He looks down as you wrap your palm against his. It moves him, how your hand and his seem to fit each other like a glove. After all this time, he thinks the touch of your hand on his is the warmth that touches his soul the most. The very touch that makes his heart beat in his chest. “It’s nothing.”

Sukuna's voice trailed off into a whisper, his usual resolve crumbling slightly under the weight of his unspoken thoughts and feelings. The contact of your hand in his, gentle yet firm, seemed to anchor him, providing a silent reassurance that words alone could not convey. Despite his initial protestations, the simple gesture encouraged him to open up, to share more than just the superficial concerns that had been allowed to surface.

"Night flower," he began again, his gaze lifting to meet yours, a hint of vulnerability flickering behind his steady exterior. "It's….I heard about the council.." His words hung heavily in the air, charged with an emotion that had previously been masked by his stoic facade. "I know it's what's needed for the clan. I know it's your duty. But," he paused, searching your eyes for understanding, "It doesn't make it easier to know that….you and another man…”

Your heart clenched at his confession, feeling a surge of empathy for the struggle he faced. Sukuna had always been the pillar of strength, the steadfast protector, rarely showing any signs of personal desire or conflict. To hear him express such raw, personal sentiments was both startling and touching.

"Sukuna," you responded, your voice soft but filled with conviction, "You are irreplaceable to me. No political alliance or marriage can change what you mean to me, to the clan. To us. You are my confidant, my steadfast supporter. My….my dearest follower." You squeezed his hand, reinforcing your words with the warmth of your touch. Your cheeks turn scarlet at your words.  "This decision, while necessary, doesn't diminish us. It doesn't diminish our bond."

He listened intently, each word you spoke seeming to ease some of the tension that had built up within him. The warmth of your hand in his served as a tangible reminder of the connection you shared, one that went beyond mere familial duty or clan obligations.

"I know," Sukuna finally said, a small, grateful smile breaking through his usual guarded expression. "And I'm here for you, little night flower. Always." He squeezed your hand back for a moment. Next, they touched your cheeks.You leaned against his touch. “I only live for you.”

“I know.” You responded in a small whisper, feeling his hand squeeze your own. You smile at him. “You had just gotten home. This conversation should not be what we welcome you home with.”

Sukuna's smile softened at your words, a mixture of affection and reassurance lighting up his features. "It's alright," he said gently, his thumb lightly caressing your cheek. "There's no one else I'd rather talk to about these things, no matter the day. But you're right, let's not let this be the shadow that greets my return."

He dropped his hand, though his eyes lingered on you a moment longer, conveying a depth of emotion that words could scarcely capture. "Let’s focus on the now. I’ve missed this—us talking, just being together," he added, his tone warm and inviting.

You felt a wave of relief wash over you, grateful for the shift towards lighter conversation. "Then tell me about your journey," you suggested, stepping back but keeping the warmth in your smile. "What tales do you bring from afar? Any new challenges, any triumphs?"

“I shall tell you later, when we have both recuperated.” He whispers to you tenderly, a small grin on his lips. “Will you sup with me tonight?”

“Of course,” You responded with elation, smiling at him. “I would be happy to be your guest tonight.”

“As am I, little night flower.” He gently lifts your joint hands under his lips, and lets his lips brush against your fingertips. “I shall let the servants know.”

Sukuna released your hand with a final, affectionate squeeze and let it go, as soon as he turned, his sharp eyes piercing towards one of the nearby servants who had been discreetly waiting at a distance. You turned to where he stood and he nodded at the servant. With a few quiet words and a nod, he instructed the servant to prepare for the evening meal. As soon as he showed himself, the servant too fled.

As he finished, he turned back to you, his expression one of quiet anticipation. "It will be just us tonight," he said, his voice carrying a hint of something more personal, a shared intimacy that was often veiled beneath the formalities of clan duties. "A chance to relax and speak freely, away from the ears of the clan. You need not bother with manners.”

“As you like.” You laughed, turning to your side as you watched the sun go down. “We have much to talk about. I suppose. With you being gone so long.”

“Hm.” He nodded at you as he turned around, as though to inspect your surroundings. You were stunned at his sudden touch, tickled as he pressed a kiss against your cheek, his arms wrapped against you. You slowly descended into his touch, your face as scarlet as the scarlet sunset. You leaned against him, comforted in the familiar touch. “I had missed you.”

You slowly looked at him.

You smile at him tenderly.

Your heart skips a beat.

You see the world in him.

“I missed you too, Sukuna.”

YOU HAD NEVER INTENDED TO FALL FOR SUKUNA. He was younger than you, he was not at the same rank as you. You were his better. His superior. You were his master, he your follower. You did not know how it truly began, where it began. But you knew it started subtly, and felt that slow shift in your relationship with Sukuna. In the early years of your youth together, it was all about duty and the responsibilities that came with your roles within the clan. You were the mentor, guiding him through the nuances of life and jujutsu sorcery, preparing him to make the banner of the Ryomen clan stand firm. He was eager, a quick learner, and his dedication to his role within the clan mirrored your own. But most of all, he was eager to serve you in all ways you wanted him to. He declared his purpose to live — to be you.

Over time, however, the lines between duty and personal affection began to blur. More so when your uncle had made him your retainer, as an extension of your uncle’s service to you. It was the small moments that began to weave a deeper connection between you two—the late-night strategy sessions that turned into long conversations about hopes, fears, and dreams.

The way he looked at you when you taught him something new, a look of admiration mixed with something you hesitated to define; the quiet comfort of his presence on a difficult day, and how naturally you began to seek out his company.

You found yourself noticing little things about Sukuna—the way his eyes crinkled when he truly smiled, how he'd always make sure you had the first cup of tea during your meetings, or the way he'd stand just a little closer to you whenever you were in a crowd. How he would walk with you night after night until your body finally tires enough to bid nightmares in the dark.

These were trivial, everyday occurrences, but they built up a tapestry of affection and care that was hard to ignore. They built up admiration, they built up devoted trust and then they built love — one that lingers in your heart then and now today, even stronger.

The realization that you were falling for him was sealed to you during a particularly perilous mission. Sukuna had thrown himself in harm's way to protect you, and the fear that gripped your heart at the thought of losing him was a wake-up call. He had been cruel to that curse that had nearly taken your life.

But he did more than ever, because if he hadn’t, then life would be gone.  It wasn't just protective instincts or camaraderie; what you felt was deeper, more personal—a tangled mix of love and devotion that you no longer could or perhaps even wanted to deny.

Admitting your feelings to yourself was one thing; acknowledging them to Sukuna was another. The night you both finally spoke openly about what had been silently growing between you was filled with a mix of anxiety and relief. Under the dimly lit kiss of moonlight, the blossoming of those queen of the nights all around the ponds. Your eyes had never seen clearer. Your heart had never beat harder. 

Sukuna, it turned out, had been harboring similar feelings. He confessed that what started as admiration and respect had grown into something much more profound. He loved you, not just as his mentor or as the heir to the clan, but as the person who understood him better than anyone else. He loved you because you were his life. You were his everything. And that has reduced you to the most profound tenderness of your life.

It was the night of too much merry drinking, Sukuna’s name–day. He had settled it to the day he had met you, the day his life had truly begun.  Under the ethereal glow of the moonlight, you and Sukuna found yourselves walking along the tranquil paths of the estate's garden.

The night was serene, with a gentle breeze stirring the air, carrying the delicate scent of Wijayakusuma flowers—a rare bloom that only opened at night, releasing its fragrance into the quiet darkness. The pond beside which you walked reflected the moon's silvery light, enhancing the otherworldly atmosphere that enveloped you.

You had been discussing mundane clan affairs, but as the pathway brought you to a secluded spot near the water, surrounded by the blooming Wijayakusuma flowers, you felt a compelling urge to express the feelings that had been growing stronger within your heart. You stopped walking, turning to face Sukuna, who looked back at you with a questioning gaze, sensing the shift in your demeanor. You pulled at the sleeves of his haori. His eyes widened slightly, at how intimate your touch had been.

"Sukuna," you began, your voice soft yet carrying a firmness that underscored the importance of your words. "I know that our duties and roles within the clan are what have always guided our actions. But tonight, under this moonlight, I want to speak not just as your mentor or the heir to the clan, but as myself."

Sukuna's expression softened, his usual guardedness easing as he stepped closer, instinctively understanding the significance of the moment. "Hiromi," he replied in an equally soft voice, his bright red eyes searching for yours.

"There’s something I need to tell you," you continued, your heart beating faster as you gathered your courage. "Over the years, what I feel for you has transformed. It has grown beyond respect, beyond our…existing bond. Sukuna, you must understand. This is….it is hard to say. But…I love you." The words felt liberating, yet laden with the weight of truth that you had held back for so long. You looked at him even more intensely. “I love you.”

The world seemed to hold its breath as you waited for his response. Sukuna's eyes deepened with emotion, a mixture of awe and tenderness etching across his features. He reached out, his hand gently cradling your face, his thumb caressing your cheek softly.

"Hiromi–sama," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "This heart of mine has been yours for longer than I can admit. I love you too. I have loved you in ways I dared not acknowledge until now." His words flowed like a sacred confession, filling the space between you with a profound sense of connection.

The admission ignited a spark that had been smoldering quietly within both your hearts, and as Sukuna drew you closer, the distance between you closed not just physically but emotionally. Your lips met in a kiss that sealed your mutual confession, a kiss that spoke of deep bonds, shared secrets, and a love that transcended the roles you played in the daylight.

Surrounded by the night-blooming Wijayakusuma blossoms, under the watchful gaze of the moon, you and Sukuna embraced each other, allowing yourselves to fully experience the depth of your feelings without reservations. Tonight, you were not just the heir and the warrior; you were two souls united by a love both forbidden and inevitable.

Your relationship, of course, since that confession had been a carefully guarded secret. The stakes were high—fraternization within the clan, especially of such a clandestine and intimate nature, was fraught with political implications. Not to mention, he was your uncle’s son. He would be one to decide his son’s fate in matrimony.

Even if the marriage would be acceptable, the elders would never accept it either. Yet, this secret had brought you closer. This desire to grow this love, this relationship has brought you closer. You both had enjoyed creating a private world where you could both just be yourselves, without the titles, without the burdens of your birthright.

Now, each stolen moment with Sukuna was cherished, a precious respite from the world's demands. You understood the risks, but the depth of your bond made every stolen moment, every shared glance, every secret touch, worth it. It was a love that had grown in the most unlikely of soils, under the cover of duty and clan loyalty, blossoming into something neither of you could have anticipated but now could not imagine being without. 

As you sat across from him, delicately handling the utensils and taking small, thoughtful bites of the meal laid out before you, Sukuna watched you intently, his gaze almost unblinking. The soft light of the candles flickered across your features, highlighting the gentle curve of your cheek and the sincere smile that occasionally graced your lips as you engaged in conversation.

To anyone else, this moment would seem ordinary, just two people sharing a meal, but to Sukuna, it was a poignant revelation of all the facets of your being that he had come to adore.

In that quiet observance, Sukuna found himself reflecting on the depth of his feelings for you. He thought he understood it well. You deserve someone as sweet as you, someone whose kindness mirrored your own, whose love was as unwavering and pure as the light in your eyes. You deserve someone who could love you better than he ever thought he could—someone less troubled, less consumed by the complexities and shadows that often followed him like specters from his past.

Yet, as he watched you, Sukuna knew he was addicted to your sweet taste. It was an addiction born not out of necessity but out of a profound and overwhelming desire that transcended mere affection or loyalty. It was an addiction to the warmth you brought into his life, to the serenity that accompanied your presence.

It was an addiction to the way you saw him—not as the formidable warrior or the guarded clan member, but as himself, Sukuna, with all his flaws and strengths laid bare.

He liked things bitter, he liked things as they were—harsh and unadorned with pretense. That was the world he knew, the world he had made his own. But not with you. Never with you. With you, everything was different. Your sweetness didn't cloy; it soothed. It didn't overshadow; it illuminated the dark corners of his heart he had long resigned to shadow. Your love, your presence, transformed the bitterness of his existence into something bearable, even beautiful.

As these thoughts swirled through his mind, Ryomen Sukuna realized with a pang of both joy and sorrow that no matter how much he believed you deserved better, he could not imagine stepping back into the shadows and watching someone else take his place by your side.

The selfish part of him, the part that was irrevocably entwined with your very essence, would not allow it. He was bound to you, not just by duty or shared secrets, but by a powerful, inescapable love that demanded to be acknowledged, cherished, and reciprocated.

So, as you laughed softly at something he said, bringing him back to the present, Sukuna allowed himself a small, genuine smile—a rare gift from a heart so fiercely guarded. In that moment, he made a silent vow: to be the sweetness in your life whenever possible, to temper the bitterness not just within himself but in the world around you, ensuring that no matter what, you would never have to face the shadows alone.

The path to Sukuna's quarters was familiar, yet each step seemed imbued with a sense of anticipation tonight. The estate was quiet, most of its inhabitants having retired to their respective quarters, leaving the halls dimly lit and silent. The soft patter of your footsteps on the polished wooden floors marked your passage through the vast corridors of the Ryomen clan's ancestral home.

As you approached the door to Sukuna's quarters, you paused, taking a deep breath to steady the fluttering in your chest. It was strange how, even after all this time and despite the countless secret meetings, the thrill of seeing him never faded. You gently knocked, a coded rhythm that whispered of hidden intimacy.

The door opened almost immediately, as if he had been waiting just beyond it. Sukuna's presence filled the doorway, his figure imposing yet welcoming. His eyes lit up at the sight of you, a warm smile quickly replacing the usual stern expression he wore around others.

"Night flower," he greeted softly, stepping aside to let you into his private world. The warmth of the room, lit by the gentle glow of lanterns, enveloped you as you entered. The familiar scent of incense was comforting, a subtle reminder of the many nights spent here, wrapped in conversation—or in silence equally profound.

Sukuna closed the door quietly behind you, ensuring your privacy. "I'm glad you could make it," he said, leading you toward the small dining area where a simple yet meticulously prepared meal awaited. The intimacy of the setting—a small table set for two—was a stark contrast to the grand dining halls you were both accustomed to.

"It's been too long," you responded, allowing the relief and happiness to show in your voice. As you sat down across from him, the proximity brought a comforting sense of closeness that you cherished deeply. "I've missed this."

"As have I," Sukuna admitted, his gaze lingering on you with an intensity that made your heart race. He served you both, his movements graceful and familiar. The meal was a simple affair, chosen for ease and comfort rather than formality. Each dish was a reminder of previous confessions and conversations that had deepened your bond.

Dinner passed with easy conversation, the kind that you could only have with someone who knew you as well as you knew yourself. You spoke of everything and nothing—missions, clan politics, small triumphs, and trivial frustrations. Yet, beneath the mundane lay the unspoken acknowledgment of the rare and precious nature of your relationship.

As the meal came to an end, Sukuna took your hand across the table, his touch sending shivers up your spine. "No matter where our duties take us," he said earnestly, "this—us—it's worth every risk."

You squeezed his hand in agreement, the danger of your secret alliance a shadow that loomed large but felt inconsequential against the depth of your feelings. "Always," you affirmed, your voice low but fierce with conviction.

The rest of the evening passed in a beautiful blur. You talked, laughed, and shared quiet moments of just being together, stealing time from your respective responsibilities. When it was time to leave, parting was as always bittersweet, filled with silent promises of another stolen moment soon. He did not wish to see you leave. But you had to. 

There was a meeting to prepare for, the clans will be arriving soon enough. It was needed as heir to be part of the conversation. Sukuna too will be returning to his training. He had been eager to perfect another technique he had thought of, he called it Kumo no Ito.

He had done it once, fighting a mountain curse by chance. But he was adamant to show it imperfect in form  to you. He said it had to be perfect. And he could only do so, if he was perfecting it. And as such, you both needed to bid farewell for the night.

In his dimly lit room, the soft glow of candles casting shadows that danced upon the walls, Sukuna held you close as he bid you farewell, his strong arms encircling your waist with a gentle firmness. The world outside faded into a distant murmur, leaving only the two of you in the cocoon of warmth that your shared presence created.

His eyes, usually so intense and commanding, now looked at you with a tenderness that made your heart flutter, a softness you saw only in moments shared in solitude like this. He was like this, only for you. You were the only one worthy of his humanity. 

His gaze did not waver as he leaned in, the intensity of his eyes locked onto yours, communicating a depth of emotion that words could scarcely convey. You felt his breath against your skin, warm and inviting, before his lips met yours in a soft, exploratory kiss that spoke of a thousand unspoken promises.

The gentleness of the kiss was a stark contrast to the fierce battles and harsh realities that both of you faced daily; here, in this moment, there was only gentleness, only love.

As if moved by an unspoken agreement, the kiss deepened, driven by a surge of emotions that had been simmering beneath the surface. Sukuna's hands moved from your waist to cradle your face, his fingers threading through your hair with a delicate touch that belied his warrior's strength.

The softness gave way to a burning intensity as the kiss grew more passionate, more urgent. His lips moved against yours with a fervor that left you breathless, each kiss a fiery declaration of his need, his desire, his love.

The intensity of the moment fueled a deep yearning within you both. Sukuna’s hands, firm and warm, traced the contours of your back, pulling you even closer against him. His touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire within that grew with every caress, every squeeze that conveyed his impatience and longing. 

You responded with equal fervor, your own hands exploring the broad expanse of his back, feeling the muscles tense under your touch. You could feel the heat of his skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, the solid strength of his body a stark contrast to the gentle way he held you. It was a heady feeling, knowing you could evoke such a powerful response from a man as composed and formidable as Sukuna.

He broke the kiss momentarily, his breath ragged as he looked into your eyes with an intensity that made your heart race. "You undo me," he murmured hoarsely, his voice low and husky, filled with raw desire. Before you could respond, his lips were on yours again, more insistent this time, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you.

His kisses trailed from your lips down your jawline to your neck, where he lingered, nipping and sucking at the sensitive skin, eliciting gasps and soft moans from you. Each sound you made only seemed to drive him further, his hands roaming over your body, mapping every curve, every line, with a possessiveness that thrilled you.

You tugged at his shirt, pulling it free from his trousers, desperate to feel his skin against yours. Sukuna obliged by shedding the garment swiftly, revealing a chest sculpted with muscle and scarred from battle—a sight that only heightened your desire. You traced the lines of his scars with reverent fingers, each one telling a story of survival and strength.

Sukuna lifted you then, with a surprising gentleness, and you instinctively wrapped your legs around his waist. His hands supported your thighs, his grip secure and unyielding, as he carried you to a nearby piles of warm straw pillows. Gently, he laid you down, his body resting against you. You lean towards him, looking into his eyes as though you see the stars, he whole sky, in him.

The world around you seemed to spin, the intensity of the moment drawing you deeper into a whirlwind of sensation and emotion. Sukuna's heartbeat thundered against your chest, mirroring your own rapid pulse. The heat between you built, a delicious tension that made every touch, every kiss, feel like it was both the first and the last.

As you clung to each other, lost in the fervor of each other, it was as if nothing else mattered—no clan duties, no hidden secrets, no potential consequences. In that moment, there was only the truth of what you felt for each other, laid bare and undeniable. But Sukuna knew he could not give into his desires. You were too sweet for him, it's true. But he didn’t want to curse you with bitterness.

Not until you want him to. You deserved better than this. Better than to be shamed beyond your marital bed. He would marry you first, he would claim you as his wife before he goes beyond anything else. Control, he must have control. He could not do this to you. Not yet.

When the kiss finally broke, you both were left gasping, foreheads pressed together, still holding onto each other as if to anchor yourselves in the aftermath of such powerful emotions. Sukuna's eyes met yours again, still intense but now shimmering with a mix of satisfaction and awe at the depth of connection you shared.

“You must go.” He whispers to you,  eyes not leaving yours. “Before we do something we’re not prepared for….Tomorrow, we have a busy day, night flower.”

His voice was husky, a whisper laden with regret and a stark reminder of the reality that awaited outside the sanctuary of this moment. His hands, still cradling your face, held you gently as if he could somehow convey the intensity of his feelings through his touch alone.

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words, feeling the ache of leaving him like this. But his use of your affectionate nickname, "Night flower," reignited the warmth inside you, a reminder of the deep bond you shared, one that went beyond physical desires.

"I know," you whispered back, your voice tinged with reluctance. Your fingers traced the line of his jaw, memorizing the feel of him, the strength and warmth that emanated from his skin. "But it doesn’t make it any easier."

Sukuna's eyes held yours, a tumult of emotions swirling in their depths—passion, desire, but above all, an overriding sense of duty and care for you. He leaned in once more, his lips brushing against yours in a tender, lingering kiss that felt like a promise. "Tomorrow," he said softly. You looked up to him. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Reluctantly, you stepped back, feeling the cool air rush between you as you disentangled from his embrace. The room seemed colder now, the warmth of his body a ghostly presence that you already missed. You fixed your attire, a physical act of preparation for the return to your separate roles within the clan, each movement marked by a silent yearning for just a few more minutes.

Sukuna watched you, his gaze following every movement, every adjustment. There was a protectiveness in his posture, a silent vow that he was there, always, no matter the distance or duty that might separate you.

As you reached the door, you paused, looking back at him, still standing in the middle of the room, the candles casting soft shadows over his strong features. "Goodnight, Sukuna," you said, the words heavy with unspent passion and a profound affection.

"Goodnight, my night flower," he replied, his voice steady but his eyes revealing the storm of emotions within. As you closed the door behind you, the soft click sounding unusually final, you carried with you the memory of his touch, his kiss, his longing look—a treasure to sustain you through the challenges of the coming day.

As you slipped out of Sukuna's quarters and back into the cool night air, the secrecy of your love felt not like a burden, but a shared secret that bound you closer together, a silent vow renewed with every fleeting encounter. In the shadows of the clan's expectations, what you had with Sukuna was a beacon—a light that, however hidden, guided you both through the darkness.

You wanted it to last forever.

You want it to be eternity, all of it.

Yet you knew better than that.

Wijayakusuma dies easier than that.

And so do many happy days in spring.

Nothing sweet tastes sweet forever.

fun facts for this chapter

they got together when hiromi was 21/22 and sukuna was 19/20. it took hiromi about a year to confess, sukuna was planning to confess when he was promoted in a higher position in the clan. when she confessed, he was already at a higher rank, something similar to a buke, and so felt a little more confident abotu accepting her confession.

hiromi doesn't use her powers that much when she fights, but sukuna does. sukuna is a perfectionist when it comes to jujutsu. he thinks his skill is the best way to prove he's worthy of hiromi, who in his eyes is already powerful without using much of her cursed technique. her cursed technique, sadly drains her too much. we'll see that in as the world caves in and a red winter!!!

isamu does not want hiromi to get married to someone who will make her unhappy due to his own unhappy marriage. but the council of elders think that the earlier hiromi marries, the more her position wouldn't be contested by sukuna (he does not want to contest her).

council of elders want someone who is from outside the clan to marry hiromi because they think it would open to a closer tie with a powerful clan that they think would be able to subdue sukuna's influence. the elders do not trust sukuna, and they never will.

hiromi and suzaku gojo became very close after her brother died, as he was her brother's closest friends. she feels like she needs him in her life to have her brother close. she's hiromi's person when she needs advice about something serious.

hiromi and sukuna often ate together with hiramu in their presence, they were like their own little trio. but hiramu has become more busy with the bureaucratic work that isamu asked his brother to do - so he left sukuna in his place as hiromi's retainer. sukuna has since taken his adoptive father's place as hiromi's confident.

hiramu isn't clueless about what's going on between sukuna and hiromi, but he says nothing. he knows sukuna would end up in trouble. but he would rather see them happy than not at all.

the clan gatherings were made by hiromi's ancestors to settle rekindle friendship between clans. they hunt curses together, compete in poetry and music, archery and such the like. it's the ryomen's turn to host it this year. last year it was the gojo clan who hosted, which is why suzaku was there, talking about clan matters.

[anna-the-undertaker]

Nightmares and Nonsense

This is based on this post. I came up with that idea during one of my insomnia induced sleepless nights. I want to give special thanks to @anunholyabomination for inspiring me with the sheer hilarity of their comment on that post. So this is for you lmao additional tags: @leilakaro @sheep-from-rad

Belphegor's nights were an exercise in futility and simmering rage. Confined within the attic's gloomy walls, his disdain for humans stewed alongside a relentless boredom. The appearance of the human exchange student only served to ignite his contempt further. Yet, a mischievous part of him, the part that delighted in the subtle arts of manipulation and control, saw an opportunity in this unsuspecting human's arrival.

He discovered their dreaming mind by pure coincidence. While wandering the endless expanse of his own subconscious, a new dreamscape overlapped his, leaving Belphie adrift and puzzled. As a demon deeply acquainted with the nuances of sleep and dreams, he rarely encountered a dreamscape that could surprise him—at least he thought none of them could.

The dream before him was vivid, an intricately woven tapestry of colors and sensations that resonated with an unfamiliar yet undeniably human energy. He moved through it with the ease of a shadow, unseen and unnoticed, until he sensed a shift—a ripple of awareness that prickled at the edges of his consciousness.

Turning towards the source, he realized it was the human, and tried to get closer, intrigued by their control and clarity, and eager to exploit this opportunity. But before he could get any closer, a voice, clear and authoritative, cut through the dream’s fabric.

“Did I give you permission to come here?” The voice was neither hostile nor welcoming, carrying a tone of nonchalant power that Belphie wasn't used to being subjected to.

Startled, Belphie had barely a moment to register the dismissal before he was forcibly ejected from the dreamscape. He woke with a gasp, the abrupt return to his own consciousness leaving him disoriented and a single thought crossed his mind, “What the fuck…”

The encounter, however brief, sparked an obsession in Belphie. Night after night, he tried to re-enter the human's subconscious realm. Each attempt, however, ended more ludicrously than the last. The human didn’t just eject him but began to twist his appearances into increasingly absurd scenarios.

One night, he found himself manifested at the edge of a surreal circus. No sooner had he entered he was transformed—his dignified demonic form altered into that of a clown, complete with oversized shoes and a garish red nose. Before he could react, an imposing figure that his dream-altered mind couldn't recognize appeared, tall, bearded and dressed in top hat and singlet, shoving tacos into his mouth while shouting about something called Reese’s Puffs. In the background, aliens, decked out like gangsters, were busy robbing some place called a Chuck E. Cheese, stuffing their bags with what they loudly declared to be diamonds.

Another attempt saw him materialize in a dream-designed version of the wild west, where he was immediately put on a horse that had a mind of its own. As he struggled to maintain his balance, dream-created characters pelted him with bizarre questions about quantum physics—a subject he had no knowledge of, much less in his sleep. The absurdity peaked when the horse decided to join in the conversation, offering insights in a surprisingly sophisticated British accent.

At some point he was a fearsome pirate aboard a sinking ship, desperately trying to scare MC with threats of walking the plank, only to have the scene dissolve into a bizarre beach party where MC forced him to participate in a limbo contest. The dream characters cheered on, including the tall man from before who inexplicably acted as the DJ, blasting 80s pop hits.

And again, he was a villain in a medieval setting, ready to lay siege to a castle. Just as he began his threatening monologue, the scene shifted, turning him into a court jester reciting Shakespearean insults while juggling tomatoes. MC, dressed as the ruler, laughed from their throne, utterly unfazed by his supposed menace.

The indignity of it was almost too much, and he had withdrawn with a seething anger, masked by a forced calm. Yet, Belphie couldn't help but admire the human's deft control over their dreams. It was an ability he hadn't anticipated, one that both infuriated and intrigued him.

After numerous humiliations, Belphie's approach shifted. Perhaps he could weave himself into their subconscious as a constant, albeit ridiculous, presence. Allowing the human to get used to him would make it easier to manipulate them later, but that meant going along with their little game. He knew there would be no way to hide that he was a demon, but that was just a small change to his growing plan. Gradually, his intrusions became less about domination and more about persistence.

Finally, the human seemed to tire of crafting bizarre punishments. Belphie found himself simply present in the dreams, no longer transformed or tormented. He was just another character in the ever-changing tapestry of the human's dream world. This sudden normalcy felt like a cold truce, and while part of him was relieved, another part—a dark, vengeful slice of his soul—simmered with unresolved anger.

When they eventually met in person, the attic's dusty gloom illuminated by the intrusion of this peculiar human, Belphie’s feelings were a complex web of grudging respect, lingering disdain, and a peculiar curiosity.

“You,” Belphie greeted, his voice cool but laced with an undercurrent of amusement and annoyance. “Quite the dream weaver, aren’t you?”

The human's grin was all too knowing, their eyes sparkling with mischief. “Had to keep things interesting. You demons take yourselves so seriously.”

Belphie scoffed, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the wall. “You have no idea what you’re meddling with, human.”

“Maybe,” They conceded with a shrug, their confidence unshaken. “But I think I can handle it. Can you say the same?”

The challenge hung between them, and despite everything, Belphie found himself intrigued. Here was a human, capable of turning nightmares into farce, of standing toe-to-toe with a demon in the battlefield of dreams. As much as he hated to admit it, this might prove more interesting than he’d anticipated.

And, of course, he could find a way to use this to his advantage after all.