#but at least ill be with the people i love the most in this world

[athenalynx]

princess and the not frog

synopsis:during a fight nanami gets transported to 1920's new orleans and happens to stubble into tiana while trying to find his way home

Tags:nanamixtiana,fluff,no spice(yet🤭)

authors note: if yall like chap one then ill drop chap 2 🔥 promise this isnt just a shi post nanamixtiana is the best ship in jjk 🫡

read time:8-10 mins

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Where am I?” Nanami asked, looking around for clues to his whereabouts. He tried to recall how he got there. He was in a fight, and suddenly a portal had sucked him into the world he was now in. As he looked around, a sign caught his eye. It read, in big bright letters, “Tiana’s Palace.” Something told him that if he wanted any chance of finding a way home, that was the place he needed to go. He took a deep breath, mustering his courage before going in. He opened the door to the sound of jazz music filling the restaurant. Men in suits and women in fancy dresses were everywhere, which made Nanami feel a bit better about his situation because at least these people knew how to dress. He looked around before approaching the host stand.

“Excuse me, what is this place?” Nanami asked. The hostess gave him a funny look.

“A restaurant,” she replied. Nanami glanced at the food on the tables; he should have known. Embarrassed, he was about to leave when he heard, “Now welcoming to the stage the owner of this restaurant, Tiana herself.”

Nanami turned to see the most beautiful woman he's ever seen . She was wearing a tight, shimmery white dress that complemented her dark skin perfectly, and her curly hair fell gracefully on her shoulders.

“Hello, everyone!” Tiana greeted, scanning the crowd until her eyes met Nanami’s. She paused, almost believing in love at first sight. He was the most handsome man she had ever seen. He was tall, wearing a tight dark blue button-up shirt complemented by a leopard print tie, and had short blond hair. Tiana almost got lost in his light brown eyes before snapping back to reality.

“Thank you, everyone, for coming tonight, and--” Before she could finish, a man yelled, “Nice ass, sweetheart!” All the men erupted into wicked laughter as Tiana stood there, flustered, trying to collect herself. Before she could say anything, Nanami interjected, “Who said that?”

The men stopped laughing, pointing to a middle-aged man giving Nanami a sheepish grin. “That would be me, what about it?”

Nanami looked the man up and down before walking closer. Without saying a word, he punched the man across the face, causing him to fall back in his chair. Quickly getting up, the man tried to punch Nanami back, but Nanami dodged the punch and kicked the man in the stomach, followed by an uppercut to the jaw. The man fell to the floor, and Nanami was getting ready to punch him again when he felt someone hold him back. He looked behind him to see Tiana.

“Beating this guy won’t make things any better,” Tiana said.

“Sorry,” Nanami mumbled, keeping his eyes to the floor. He felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: shame.

“It’s okay. Come to the back so I can fix you up,”Tiana said Nanami was confused on why she would say that before he looked down at his bloody knuckles he nodded and Tiana grabbed his arm leading him to a room that looked like her office. She sat him down and grabbed a first aid kit from one of her many bookshelves.

“You didn’t need to do that,” Tiana paused before adding, “But thank you. But next time, I can take care of myself.” Nanami smiled at her and said, “I don’t plan on doing it again.” Tiana giggled before asking.

“What brought you here? You don’t look like you’re from here,” .

“I honestly don’t know. I just got sucked up here by some sort of portal,” Nanami replied, he didn’t know why he told her for some reasson he trusted her with his life something about her smile made and her dark brown eye that were so easy to get lost in made it easy for him to talk to her making it sound like what happened to him was just a normal everyday thing. Tiana looked at him like he was crazy while wiping the blood off his knuckles.

“Where am I?” Nanami asked.

“You’re in the best restaurant in New Orleans,” Tiana said proudly. Nanami’s stomach rumbled.

“Maybe before I leave, I could try some of the food here?” Nanami asked.

“I could cook you something,” Tiana said with a smile before leading him to the kitchen.

“What are you craving?” Tiana asked as she tied her hair back.

“Something sweet,” Nanami said. Tiana nodded and said, “I know something I could make for you.”

“What?” Nanami asked.

“It’s a surprise,” Tiana replied with a wink.

“How long have you owned the restaurant?” Nanami asked.

“About a year,” she answered.

“I’m sorry, but I never got your name?” Tiana said.

“It’s Kento Nanami, but everyone calls me Nanami.”

“I’ve never met anyone with that last name. Where are you from?” Tiana asked.

“I was born and raised in Tokyo, Japan,” Nanami said.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you,” Tiana said with a smile.

While Tiana cooked, Nanami talked about almost everything they could think of: family, friends, work, etc.

“Your food is ready,” Tiana said, placing a plate in front of Nanami before coating it in powdered sugar.

“What is it?” Nanami asked.

“Beignets. It’s my mama’s recipe,” Tiana said. As Nanami took a bite, his eyes lit up.

“I think this is the best thing I’ve ever had,” he said before taking another bite.

“I told you you’re in the best restaurant in New Orleans,” Tiana said with a proud smile as Nanami quickly finished his plate.

“Can I have more?” Nanami asked.

“Maybe if you come in tomorrow, I could make you more, but you would need to pay,” Tiana replied.

“I know this is a lot to ask, but can I maybe stay here? I don’t really have a home. I could pay you to stay here if you want,” Nanami asked Tiana with pleading eyes.

“You don’t need to pay me. I don’t really know how you got here, but I want to help you,” Tiana said.

“Thank you so much, Tiana!” Nanami said before pulling Tiana into a hug. They hugged for a minute before snapping back to reality.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” Tiana said before walking out. But before she could leave, she turned around and said, “You know you could stay at my house. I want you to be able to sleep in a bed if you want to.”

“Of course, I would,” Nanami said.

------------location change-----------

“Okay i'll get you some blankets for the couch.” Tiana says

Nanami nods looking around admiring the room's homie aesthetic; it makes him feel like he’s home even though he's in an entirely different universe. Tiana comes back with blankets and a pillow which she plops on the couch

“Okay that's all you’ll need for the night i'm in my room if you need me.” Tiana says before turning to leave but before she could Nanami grabs her hand and spin her to face him

“Can you not leave yet? Maybe we could watch Netflix or whatever you want.”

“What's Netflix?” Tiana asks

Nanami cocks an eyebrow and asks ‘how don’t you not know what Netflix is?”

“I don't watch that many movies. Im always busy and movies just feel like a waste of time.” Tiana says

“Netflix isn't a movie” Nanami says

“What is it?” Tiana asks Nanami thinks for a little before he says

“It's like a streaming service. It has a bunch of movies and tv shows from all over the world and you only need to pay 6 dollars a month.”

“What's a streaming service?” Tiana asks

“I'll just show you where's your tv?” Nanami asks when he turns around he's greeted by old box tv

“I've not seen a box tv since I was a kid,how old is it?” Nanami says

“It's not that old, only a year or two.” Tiana says confused

“What do you mean this tv got to be from the 1920’s or older.” Nanami says while examining the tv

“That was only 2 years ago.” Tiana says with a chuckle suddenly it hits Nanami

“What year is it ?” Nanami asks panicky

“Baby it the 1922.” Tiana says but that just makes Nanami feel light headed as he falls back on the couch keeping his head in his hands

“What's wrong Nanami?” Tiana asks concerned

“In the universe I'm in, it's 2024, I don’t even think I'm in a different universe I think somehow I traveled back In time” Nanami says

“So you're a time traveler.”

“Technically yes but that only gonna make it harder to get back home.” Nanami says with a heavy sigh sinking deeper in the couch Tiana sits next to him putting her hands in his and says

“Don’t worry we’ll find a way to get you home.” Nanami lazily looks at Tiana trying giving a half ass smile

“Thank you Tiana for everything.” he says before giving Tiana a hug tightly wrapping his hands around her waist

“I know this is a bad time to ask but how is the future?” Tiana asks Nanami lets Tiana out of his tight grasp

“Well for one we have bigger Televisions.” he says looking a the tiny box tv sitting on the mantel in front of the couch

“Well the future Is sounds pretty boring.” Tiana says playfully

“I don't think tv’s are boring.” Nanami says

“Well that because everyone on tv looks like you” Tiana says matter of factly

“What do you mean?” Nanami asks confused

“Have you ever seen a black woman on tv as anything but the side character who is the but of all the jokes?” ask’s Tiana

“I have.” Nanami says Tiana looks at Nanami with wide eyes

“Really?” Tiana asks

“Yeah, there’s a lot of movies and shows with black main characters.”

“Are there any black princesses?” Tiana asks hopefully

“Yes.” Nanami says

“Tell me everything.” Tiana says eagerly

“Well it’s called princess and the frog….”

Nanami tell Tiana the story of princess and the frog as she lays her head on his shoulder constantly asking him to keep going with a wide smile on her face by the time he’s done Tiana had fallen asleep he gently picks Tiana up and brings her to bedroom the house was small so it wasn’t hard to find Nanami gently lays Tiana on the bed giving her a light kiss on her forehead before he leaves he hears Tiana quietly say “wait”

Nanami turns around to see Tiana with her head slightly raised to be able to look at Nanami

“It's really cold, could you maybe…sleep with me?” Tiana asks Nanami nods and lays on his side to be able to see Tiana’s face

“You know your eyes are really beautiful.” Nanami says

“You don’t need to try and flatter me, my eyes are just brown.” Tiana says

“I'm not trying to” Nanami says kindly Tiana smiles

“It's not just your eyes that are beautiful, everything about you is beautiful. This may be sappy but you're probably the most beautiful woman I've seen.” Nanami says before he gets to sappy he says

“Sorry I know that really corny and-” before he could finish Tiana quickly gives him a kiss

“I'm sorry I shouldn't have done that, please forgive me.” Nanami gently grabs Tiana faces and leans in for another kiss before Nanami pulls away and says

“There is nothing to be sorry for.” Tiana smiles at him but Nanami can tell somethings wrong

"we should get to bed." Tiana says she gently wraps her hands around Nanami waist while resting her head on his chest

"good night" Tiana says before closing her eyes Nanami gives her a light kiss on her forehead

"good night." he says before he slowly closes his eyes to fall asleep

[notbornwithit]

Goodbye Wienerpeg

[szappan]

im also increasingly sure that im autistic but we'll never ever confirm that </3

[gothteddiesdotcom]

bored / not having fun at work today so trying to make vacation and event plans for next year in my head but it’s not going well

[honey-tongued-devil]

Arcane preference reacting to a s/o with a mental health issues (eating)

My disclaimer, as someone with this issue, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted. I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while, but I was a bit cowardly about doing it, so I’m taking the opportunity now. I don’t want to go out of character, so I’m sorry if some characters come across as harsher than others. Unfortunately, I know I should write the name of the illness, but if I post it that way, Tumblr will take it down.

Jayce:

- He’s academically intelligent, but it takes him far too long to notice that something’s wrong. But you can’t blame him, it’s something so far removed from him that he couldn’t have understood it sooner.

- When he does realize, his first reaction is panic.

- Jayce can’t feel like just a blade of grass; he feels emotions deeply, taking on any blame, especially if something happens to the people he loves. His first thought is that he did something to make you feel that way, inadequate.

- But once the panic phase ends, the responsibility phase begins.

- He does the grocery shopping, he cooks, and his workouts become more regular, where he has you climb onto his back while doing push-ups or holds you in his arms during other exercises.

- He doesn’t know why you do it, but the quickest way to show you that your weight isn’t a problem is by showing you how easily he lifts you.

- And maybe, if you feel up to it, he can hold you in his arms with one arm supporting you while he cooks, letting you taste various ingredients.

Viktor:

- Unlike Jayce, it only takes two suspicious behaviors in a row for him to understand what’s happening. It’s something far from his world, sure, but he recognizes it.

- And he confronts you. He doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t stammer; he might even sound angry because he doesn’t understand why you’d hurt yourself like this and willingly give up your well-being.

- I won’t lie, I doubt that an open discussion about something this delicate with him wouldn’t lead to at least one hysterical cry.

- But he’s not brutal for the sake of being brutal; his suffering and frustration turn into anger. It takes him a while to calm down, but he won’t accept compromises.

- You’ll have meals together at home, either returning to your rooms together or straight to the house, so no one can see you and you won’t feel bad.

- And he won’t force you, he tries to handle it with as much care as possible, but there’s no day that goes by without him getting up from the table if you haven’t eaten at least two food items per meal.

- He loves you too much to see you hurt yourself in that way, and knowing that he can't do anything about it makes him feel powerless.

Ekko:

- It takes him a week—not to understand, but to process it.

- Having grown up in total poverty, the idea of giving up food “for whim” makes him react in a way that is only human.

- And the whole thing is too distant for him: everyone’s skin is grayish, 90% of the population of the Lanes has missing limbs and monstrous prosthetics, and everyone’s goal is to survive as long as possible. What does it mean that you’re against your own survival??

- As unsupportive as he might be regarding the issue, he becomes incredibly vigilant and concerned.

- He’ll always make sure you’re warm enough, that you’re comfortable, and no matter how frustrated he is, he’ll always try to stay close to you, even just holding you in bed until you fall asleep.

- Every single comment you make about your body, he’ll respond with, “Don’t talk about my partner like that,” 

- no one can speak badly of you, not even you.

Vander:

- The most understanding: he was young once too, and although in his size meant an advantage, he and Silco snuck into various galas when they were younger, and there, even though he never had these problems, he would feel a strange sensation seeing that he was the biggest in the room or that it was hard to find someone to steal clothes from that would fit him.

- He doesn’t lecture you or anything like that, he doesn’t get angry despite how he grew up; he just feels sadness for you that you can’t see how little that complex matters and how beautiful you already are.

- His compromise is vegetables. If you don’t feel like eating every meal every day, it doesn’t matter, but at least four days a week, you have to have three meals.

- And for the rest, he’ll cook, making sure to prepare the best dishes made from vegetables so that you don’t feel guilty and your body doesn’t deteriorate.

- But he doesn’t support your illness, he simply ensures that you get everything you need and never go below the necessary intake without having you feeling guilty about it.

Silco:

- Hoping that the most attentive and watchful man in the lanes wouldn't notice how, suddenly, meals go from moments of lightness to something you try to avoid at all costs is a bit foolish, but he says nothing.

- He waits for as long as necessary, basically to see how long it lasts and how much you're not planning to talk to him.

- When he realizes you won’t, not anytime soon, he waits for you to be alone in his office, where you’ll find a slice of cake on his desk. Sure, it’s a low blow, but it’s also the fastest way to get you to confront the issue without too many escape routes.

- He’s a big fan of the saying “dirty laundry is washed in the family,” so if you act strange about meals in front of others, he won’t allow questions or jokes, but in private, he won’t accept “no” for an answer.

- He has enough problems already without you crying from hunger pains or having psychotic episodes due to sugar deficiency, so as long as you're under his watch, under Zaun's eye, he won't let you live with unhealthy standards.

- During meals, he becomes the strictest. He doesn’t say anything, but one look is enough to make you think twice about contradicting him. In the evening, though, when your mental health is most fragile, he becomes gentler, comforting you as much as you need.

Jinx:

- You find fertile ground, but like any good bearer of the same issue: she feels she can do it, but you cannot.

- Being with her or in her space becomes like a live-action version of Thumbelina: she’ll leave sweets, chocolates, things she knows you like to encourage you to eat so you can’t hurt yourself.

- She usually forgets to eat herself when she’s caught up in her studies and work, but if she has someone to care for, it doesn’t matter how, she’ll make sure to remember. Even if it means setting a few colorful bombs with timers.

- She feeds you. In the most visible, worst way. It’s easy that if you turn your head, you’ll find a cookie shoved in your mouth unceremoniously.

- And every single tight-fitting outfit disappears from her lair. Magically, whatever clothes you pick up from her pile fit loosely, but if you ask her about it, she’ll claim she doesn’t know what are you talking about.

Vi:

- Want to see Vi in a panic, becoming super protective and possessive in a way? Just wait for one episode, and you’ll see everything you haven’t seen.

- She’ll check on you at least three times a day, and in the evening, when you have pain or a crisis, she’ll run back and forth from the room, thinking about everything she can do to help you feel better without making you feel guilty.

- During meals, she’ll hold you in her arms and insist that you eat, but not aggressively—in a way that’s almost frightened: she’s always been used to fighting big, real monsters, but even when it came to her sister, she could never defeat the invisible ones, and the fear of failing or hurting someone she loved again terrifies her in an agonizing way.

Caitlyn:

- Like Jayce, she’ll also try a more physical way of reassuring you, like body worshipping when you’re alone or working out with you to show you that your weight doesn’t matter.

- She doesn’t know how to react; she realizes it quite quickly but fears that by acknowledging it, she might only make you feel worse.

- One day, she gathers the courage to ask if everything is okay and tells you that she’s noticed those behaviors. When you open up to her, telling her about the issues, she doesn’t respond right away and simply hugs you.

- She becomes more caring, making sure that you don’t have to attend banquets or dinners where you wouldn’t feel comfortable, bringing you food in your room to eat together, and sometimes even leaving the room so as not to put pressure on you.

- When you mention a craving, she immediately springs into action to get it for you, even if you complain that you weren’t serious. Once she understands how your condition works, she orders everything in three portions, so she can eat with you and then be the first to say that she wants more, asking if you want to share the third portion.

- If you have fat accumulated in any area, she’ll knead it with her hands while kissing you, to let you know that she loves every inch of you.

Mel:

- She notices you're having a crisis before you even realize it yourself.

- She’s a ruler, but what she learned from a young age is that a leader must appear reliable and look good, so even if unconsciously, she too sometimes experiences small crises when she feels like she isn’t looking perfect.

- No conversations, no lectures, just an increase in cuddles, moments of intimacy, and later, she brings home sweets.

- “They were a gift to me today at the council,” she lies, but sometimes she says she got them for both of you.

- She doesn’t want to make you feel like you’re in the wrong.

- She knows that when you’re ready and if you want to, you’ll bring up the issue with her, but for now, the best thing she can do is help you get through the episode with euphoria, love, and treats that encourage you to listen to your hunger rather than the illness.

Sevika:

- Like everyone in Zaun, the idea that someone would voluntarily give up food is simply incomprehensible to her.

- But she won’t comment on your problems. She doesn’t intend to invalidate them, but she also won’t encourage it.

- “Are you sure? That’s a bit too little,” will be her comment when you eat something ridiculously small, before making you a proper portion of food herself. If you try to argue, she’ll respond with a smug smile, saying that if you eat that little, you’ll end up breaking when you’re in bed together.

- If a crisis is particularly bad, she’ll try to finish her work as quickly as possible to be able to stay with you for the rest of the day and not leave you alone.

- As much as possible, she’ll try to get the best, freshest, and most natural food, to reassure you that you don’t need to worry, but she’ll never insist that you eat if you say you don’t feel up to it.

- She’ll gesture for you to come sit on her lap and keep you there, occasionally offering you things she knows you like, telling you that she’s really craving them, and if you want them too, she’ll go get them.

[nimomo-mo]

vent

[neon-sunsets]

okay. let’s talk about jayce’s monologue, since people are calling him ableist.

for context, not that it matters: I have a significant mobility disability and a progressive chronic illness which, even when managed, can kill me. I’m not in exactly the same boat as viktor since my disease isn’t terminal, but I’ve had very similar experiences to him. this shapes my perception of him and of this storyline.

this is the monologue:

You’ve always wanted to cure what you thought were weaknesses. Your leg. Your disease. But you were never broken, Viktor. There’s beauty in imperfections. They made you what you are. An inseparable piece of everything I admired about you.

first, it should be noted that “what you thought were weaknesses” is not the same thing as “things that are good.” jayce is not saying that viktor’s disease is or was a good thing. what he is saying is that he admired (loved) everything that viktor was, which included the things viktor thought made him a burden or a problem. remember also that jayce almost doomed the world because he couldn’t let viktor die; he would never imply that viktor dying was a good thing.

the next question, then, is whether viktor sees himself as a burden or not. I think it’s implied that he does — it’s certainly not unrealistic to think that viktor might have come to view himself, or at least his disease, as a burden and a flaw. disabled people often view ourselves that way either because of internalized ableism or because society constantly tells us that we’re burdens and that our bodies are abnormal and wrong. viktor displays behaviors that indicate internalized ableism, including hiding the fact that he’s coughing up blood from jayce the first few times it happens and generally refusing to be in the public eye in a way that is self-effacing and not just him being private. yes, he says in act 1 of season 1 that he believes in himself, but he does also call himself a cripple in a dismissive way in that same scene; also, he doesn’t have the disease at that point. arguably the entire scene where he runs despite clearly being in pain is an example of his internalized ableism, but that’s another post.

more evidence for viktor’s perception of himself being negative is that he clearly has a sense that he doesn’t deserve to be loved (specifically by jayce, but maybe also in general). we see this when he asks jayce why he’s still persisting in saving him. we see this with his generally self-effacing behavior. we see this with the fact that in all of season 1, the only person he allows to touch him is jayce, and that the only person he actively touches in the entire show is jayce. viktor is reserved and not good with his emotions, which is a huge part of his arc this season. all of these behaviors point to him having a negative self-perception.

I think it’s important to really consider how jayce perceives viktor and how viktor perceives himself. I don’t think this season handled everything perfectly, but I think they handled this very well. viktor has been written with a fullness and complexity that most disabled characters don’t ever get. him being morally grey doesn’t mean he’s “problematic” or “bad representation.” obviously I’m only one disabled person, but I really love jayce and viktor and I think their story is beautifully written.

[sunrizef1]

imgonnagetyouback

Pairing: Lando Norris x Fem!singer!reader

Warnings: Cursing

Authors note: I guess I lied about the Lando thing… this songs just so Lando I can’t explain it and I’m actually obsessed with this song rn. You probably have to at least know the premise of the song to understand the second half of this.

INSTAGRAM

yourusername

📍New York, New York

liked by maxfewtrell taylorswift and 13,998,887 others

yourusername hello, New York!

tagged: taylorswift

Load comments…

user1 my fav

user2 love her

user3 so pretty 🤩

taylorswift 🩵

yourusername 🤭💋

user4 welcome to New York, so real

user5 I miss Lando

user6 hi queen!!!

user7 new music when

user8 “I love NY not you” lmao Lando get up

user9 now why in the world did max like this

user10 and now Lando will post an Instagram story of him partying with some random girl to prove he’s having more fun than y/n is, we know how this goes

user11 you can not tell me they don’t miss each other

sabrinacarpenter pretty 🤩 🤩 🤩

yourusername no u 💋

user12 I just need a video of her English ass trying to navigate new York please and thx

maxfewtrell hey bestie!

yourusername oh my god get out of here

user13 wtf is max doing 😭😭

gracieabrams I ❤️ u

yourusername 🥰

oscarpiastri hi

yourusername hi?

———————————————

landonorris added to their story

user14

Now wtf

user15

user10 was right

user16

Alright ig

oscarpiastri

oh okay

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

oscarpiastri

Still can't believe you convinced me to do that

yourusername

You'll be fine, ill get you concert tickets

can't even tell its you either

oscarpiastri

fine

they better be vip

yourusername

Dw they will be

—————-

maxfewtrell

???

yourusername

Dw its just Oscar

maxfewtrell

Jesus i cant believe you

yourusername

He started it. This is the first time I've included a guy in my posts, landos been doing it for months

maxfewtrell

you're gonna be the death of me

yourusername

💋💋💋💋

maxfewtrell

take care of yourself though y/n

yourusername

I am

Thx tho max 🫶

maxfewtrell

Yeah yeah 🙄

——————————————

yourusername

📍Paris, France

liked by charles_leclerc oscarpiastri and 21,008,771 others

yourusername I can tell when somebody still wants me

load comments…

user17 oh yay they're gonna sneak diss in their Insta captions again

user18 I miss dad ☹️

user19 she's so pretty omg

maxfewtrell oh wonderful we’re doing this now

yourusername leave

user20 lando its your turn

user21 IM IN LOVE WITH HER

charles_leclerc I'm amused

yourusername congrats

user22 they're so messy I love them

oscarpiastri great he's about to drag me into doing something stupid because of this

yourusername that is not my problem

user23 I sense new music coming along

user24 I do genuinely think he still wants her lowk

user25 they want eachother, don't lie. Its defo mutual

user26 😍😍😍

taylorswift 🤩

yourusername 🥰

jackantonoff 🤪

liker by yourusername

user27 why is jack here???? New music???

————————————————

landonorris

liked by maxfewtrell martingarrix and 12,008,998 others

landonorris I have what I want

load comments…

user28 oh… yay

user29 🤩🤩🤩

user30 say what you want about their shitty personalities but they sure do know how to make an aesthetic post

user31 the shade is immense

maxfewtrell im nauseous

landonorris 👍

user32 they’re so into each other it’s actually insane

user33 OH MY GOD WE GET IT YOU MISS EACHOTHER

user34 🤩🤩🤩

user35 he’s so fine

user35 LANDO-

user36 now what’s y/n gonna do

user37 how long until they both apologize and get back together… these are not the posts of people who have healthily moved on from their previous relationship

user38 fine as hell lowk

oscarpiastri this is 100% the most healthy way to handle this

landonorris I didn’t ask

user39 all of their friends are so annoyed and it’s so funny

———————————————

yourusername added to their story

maxfewtrell

Is this a song where you admit you’re still in love with Lando so you both can finally get over your emotional immaturity???

yourusername

kinda

maxfewtrell

Oh fr?

I thought you’d just be mean to him for the whole song

yourusername

Uhhh-

——————————————

yourusername

liked by sabrinacarpenter taylorswift and 21,000,111 others

yourusername imgonnagetyouback out now 🩶

Load comments…

user40 IM GONNA GET YOU BACK

user41 oh my god it’s so good

user42 LANDO GET UP

user43 THE CAPTION FROM PARIS WAS A SONG LYRICCCCC

user44 oh so she’s still in love with him

user45 “you were never not mine” 💀

user46 I CAN FEEL IT COMING HUMMIN IN THE WAY YOU MOVE

user47 PUSH THE RESET BUTTON WERE BECOMING SOMETHING NEW

user48 SAY YOU GOT SOMEBODY ILL SAY IVE GOT SOMEONE TOO

user49 EVEN IF ITS HANDCUFFED IM LEAVING HERE WITH YOU

user50 “I’m an Aston Martin” okay lance strollll

oscarpiastri “I’ve got someone too” no you do not 💀

yourusername oh my god shut up

user51 she’s still in love with him dhmu

maxfewtrell when I asked if this was going to be emotionally healthy and not a diss I can now see why you were conflicted…. Bit of both tbh

yourusername 🫶

maxfewtrell 👎

user52 told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same 😭

user53 SO GOOD

user54 WHETHER IM GONNA BE YOUR WIFE????

——————————————

landonorris added to their story

maxfewtrell

…

what does this achieve

landonorris

What do you want

maxfewtrell

Mate come on

you’re still obviously in love with her

and the song litteraly shows she’s still in love with you

all you’ve done is post a thirst trap of yourself with song lyrics on top

landonorris

It’s not a thirst trap

maxfewtrell

I hate both of you

text her mate

you’re happier together

And I’m tired of both of you annoying the shit out of me

landonorris

Fine

Maybe I will

maxfewtrell

Thank god

It’d be the first time you listened to me

—————————————

MESSAGES

INSTAGRAM

yourusername added to their story

maxfewtrell

That better be Lando or so help me god

yourusername

Calm your tits

It is

maxfewtrell

YEAHHHH

Finally

I can stop playing matchmaker

yourusername

😒😒😒😒

————————————————

oscarpiastri

Oh so this means you’ll both stop dragging me into your dumb shit

yourusername

🖕🖕🖕🖕

oscarpiastri

🫶

———————————————

TWITTER

INSTAGRAM

landonorris

liked by yourusername maxfewtrell and 13,001,881 others

landonorris told my friends I hate you but I love you just the same

load comments…

user55 YEAHHHHHHH

user56 Y/N LIKED WE’RE SO BACK

user57 my favs

user58 my parents are back together 😭

user59 unlike your real ones

user58 woah???

user59 🤷‍♀️ it’s the truth

user60 I missed them so much 😭😭😭

user61 admitted you love your ex-gf on main, this is self-improvement

yourusername pick your poison, babe

landonorris I’m poison either way

user62 I appreciate the repeating lyrics at each other because it is cute but those are not the kindest lyrics to be repeating 😭

user63 who knew that shit-talking your ex in a song could get him to re-admit his love for you

maxfewtrell took you long enough

landonorris legitimately who asked you

maxfewtrell I’m the reason this even happened in the first place. Watch your tone.

landonorris thanks i guess

maxfewtrell “I guess” @/yourusername this is how happy he is to have you back

yourusername landoooo

landonorris sorry. Thank you so much max, I’m so grateful you brought the loml back to me.

maxfewtrell you’re welcome ☺️

—————————————

yourusername

liked by landonorris maxfewtrell and 20,887,991 others

yourusername got you back

load comments…

user64 she got him back 🥹

user65 YEAHHHHH LFG

user66 awwwww

user67 I love them so much

user68 sleeping on the highway tonight 🫶

oscarpiastri 🥳🥳🥳

liked by yourusername

user69 these pictures are so cute oh my god 😭

user70 IM GONNA GET YOU BACK

landonorris you decided wether you’re gonna be my wife or smash up my bike yet?

yourusername still not sure… maybe both 🤔

user71 BOTH?????

user72 YEAH YEAH THATS FUNNY AND ALL BUT SHE JUST SAID SHE’D MARRY HIM

maxfewtrell congratulations nerds

yourusername thanks mate

user73 I’m in love with both of them

user74 they’re both so much happier together I really hope they stick this time

user75 and when she releases a love album then what

landonorris ily 🫶

yourusername ily2 🫶

user76 Jesus Christ they’re such teenagers 😭 USE FULL WORDS 😭😭😭

user77 no I get them. I wouldn’t post full love confessions in an Instagram comment section either lmao

user78 they got each other back 🫶

———————————————

Taglist: @casperlikej @evie-119

[monimccoythings]

Mending each other's hearts I (Logan Howlett/ Wolverine x Mutant!Reader)

I just love heatrbreaking stories that end with happy endings, this one might actually have a part two. I have to take all of this creative rush suddenly flowing and write as much as I can before I'm back to nothing. This reader's powers are invisibility.

It really hurt. To have someone you are madly in love with so out of reach, in love with somebody else. To know that no matter what you did, he would never look at you the same way he looked at her. Jean. She was perfect, gorgeous, smart, kind, and powerful. The golden child of Xavier’s School. Truly a Marvel girl.

You couldn’t help but envy your friend, not only has caught the eyes of two men, but also was the apple of your mentor’s eye. You couldn’t say it was undeserved. As much as you adored Jean as a friend, sometimes you resented her for having it all and not seeming to notice.

It twisted your heart every time you caught one of his longing looks, or his soft smiles. You felt the burning sensation of tears in your eyes and a lump in your throat. You forcefully swallowed it down, the least you wanted was everyone pitying you over some unrequited crush. 

You couldn’t afford to tell anyone, so every time there was a big alpha male fight between Scott and Logan over her affections you quietly stayed as far as you could. Knowing that staying and hearing him fight for her love would completely break you.

That didn’t mean you didn’t quietly cry in the shower or when you were alone in bed. Those were the only places where the tears could flow freely and you allowed your sobs to wreck your body.

You once thought that being his close friend, his confidant, someone he fully trusted would be enough. That you could move on past your silly infatuation until it was nothing more than a buzzing noise in your head. Time could heal everything, you would get used to the heart ache and live normally.

However, Cupid was a resentful bitch.

It only took you being in the wrong place at the wrong time, to finally break into tiny little pieces. As you were getting some papers to grade, you realized you had left your phone back in the class. If only you hadn’t noticed until much later; maybe you would have saved yourself from watching the man who you loved the most passionately kissing your friend, his real one true love.

Your body turned cold, for once, you wished your invisibility powers kicked in and made you disappear. But you couldn’t. You felt blocked, glued to the carpet, unable to move, to think, to breathe as your entire world crashed around you. That’s the worst part of deceiving oneself, when reality comes knocking it hits you harder than any punch.

Maybe if you had stayed longer, you would have seen Jean gently pushing Logan away, with a heartbroken look in her face, quietly shaking her head with silent tears running down her cheeks. Maybe you would have seen the look of utter defeat in Logan’s face, knowing the heart of his beloved was already taken. Maybe, maybe, maybe… but you didn’t.

You don’t remember how you managed to return to your room, how you found yourself able to walk all the way without collapsing. For a second, you wondered if it had been real, an hallucination caused by the stress of being a teacher in a school full of mutant teenagers. As much as you tried to convince yourself, the tear drops staining the papers were proof that what had just happened was very much real.

It felt like something inside you had died that day.

People could see it, the light in you getting duller, your voice was starting to lose the warmth it once held. You tried to fake it, to pretend that everything was fine, that you were the same as always. But it was as plain as day how much you were grieving.

Until one day you casually took a look at yourself in the mirror. What a sorry sight.

Your skin was pale, more fitting of an ill person than a healthy mutant; your eyes looked glossy, probably due to the sleepless nights you had spent crying your heart out until you could barely feel anything; your hair, usually as tidy as you could get it, fell limp over your shoulders, unkept.

You felt sorry for yourself, pathetic, weak. That's what you were.

The only one to blame for this was looking straight at you through red rimmed eyes. This love, this bleeding twisted love, needed to go out, vanish for all eternity. You had no plans of moving, you had nowhere to go, as long as you stayed at the mansion you would have to constantly be reminded of what you so wholeheartedly desired but could never have. Unless you put an end to that.

How did that saying go? “A new worry helps to take the pain away”, Logan needed to be out of your system if you wanted to keep both him and Jean in your life. And there was only one way to do it. A good old wild night in town. Would it completely erase what you felt for that rugged old man? Surely not, but it was a great first step.

You would have loved to invite Ororo and Jean with you to have a decent girls night for once, but this was something you needed to do on your own. So without telling anybody, you took Friday off and got ready to put an end to this pain once and for all.

▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃▃

There was something off with you, he could feel it. For the past couple of months you had not been entirely yourself and that was upsetting him to no end.

Your friends had tried to help you open up, out of concern to no avail. Apparently, your problems were something that you had decided you would go through on your own. But Logan didn’t agree with you. It burned him watching someone he deeply cared about lose a bit of light with each passing day, and it burned him even more not being able to do anything to help. He felt useless, doomed to watch you consume yourself more and more until there was anything left.

His pain over Jean’s rejection had left him somber and broken, but watching you slowly succumb into a pit of despair had damaged him in ways no one should have. You, his closest friend, if he was able to have something like that, his little ‘Casper’ who was always so kind, so considerate, even to an asshole like him; were suffering and he couldn’t protect you from that pain.

Logan remembered how soft your hands were, how warm your touch was and how bright your smile was. And now there was only left an empty carcass, a living shadow of what you once were. He found himself mourning over something he would never have again.

Fuck, he wanted you back. He missed you. He needed you back. It was so emotional, he couldn’t give a single fuck about it. 

He was going to get you back.

When Hank told him that you had suddenly taken that day off, Logan panicked, fearing the worst. Nearly on fours he ran up the stairs, praying to whatever deity he didn’t believe in that you hadn’t left.

And you hadn’t.

He wasn’t prepared for what he found in your room. You, sitting in front of the mirror of your vanity, applying the last touches of mascara to your eyes. Your hair was done in a very elegant way, combed and curled till it reached perfection; your eyeshadow, combined with the mascara, highlighted the color of your eyes making them shine. Your lips were painted in a red as dark as blood that was practically begging to be smeared across your mouth.

And the icing on the cake were that tantalizing red dress that hugged all your curves in the best way, and those impossibly high heels that made your legs endless.

He was speechless. So speechless he didn’t notice how you momentarily paled only to recover your composure once again.

“Did you… did you want something?” You asked, shyly. Panicking at the thought of your plan ending before it had even started.

Logan didn’t answer, too busy taking all of you in. His eyes quickly darted from one part to another. The air coming out of him in short breaths, his sturdy chest rising and falling. Fists clenching and unclenching.

“Where are you going?”His voice sounded raspy.

“Out.” You simply stated, it hurted but you had to remain cold for this to work.

“With who?” It didn’t go unnoticed to you the dangerous edge in his voice. Why would he even care about it?

“I’m flying solo tonight, hopefully not for long, if you know what I mean.”  You tried to play it cool, like you were just teasing a friend, as the old you would, but Logan could smell bullshit coming a mile away, so obviously he didn’t buy it.

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Oh you knew that face he was making, he was getting angrier by the second. You still could feel the remains of the heartbreak sinking like daggers in your badly beaten heart.

“I mean that I’m not planning on sleeping here tonight, Lo.”

He didn’t like at all the ugly, primal feeling that arose in his chest at your words. That sudden urge to destroy, to tear apart your dress and lock you in your room, away from prying eyes. It must have shown in his face, because you uneasily sank back into your chair.

You weren’t going to let him scare you away from this. His big bad man act may have worked on other people, but you knew him well enough to know that was purely a façade. Mustering all the bravery and courage left in you, you picked the remaining pieces of your heart and stood up determined to keep going whether he wanted it or not. A low warning growl emanated from his body when you walked past him. “Bye, Lo.” He didn’t like how final those two words sounded.

And for a couple of seconds he just stood there, just processing what had happened. You sounded so determined, so ready to leave and not coming back it was unsettling. It was a future he didn’t look forward to.

He caught a whiff of your scent, laced with that perfume the students gifted you on your birthday. You were going out alone, dressed out like that, and possibly coming home smelling like a stranger???

Oh, hell no.

[not-the-cheese]

one sentence summaries of every TMA episode

(1-60 i'll add more soon)

part 2 up!

world's most effective anti-smoking PSA

man DOES NOT open coffin. everyone claps.

woman is judgemental towards neighbor even though she has hobbies that are just as weird.

book makes multiple people fall off chair.

man finds bag of teeth and decides he absolutely needs to fuck around and find out.

worm sti.

there was a SCARY MAN in the WAR.

fuck this tree

well at least ted bundy was a great father :)

i'm like 55% sure vampires are real and i'm willing to take those odds

bitches be dying. you're next.

we kill this man because he made the soda too warm.

sorry ur husband's dead. maybe get some help.

Unbox with me ! (GONE WRONG)

hah i'm safe from this one because i have decided to Never Go Into a Cave Ever.

man is so annoying about this spider that even his cat can't be bothered

man's bully finds a book about a Bone Turner and subsequently begins turning people's bones.

this guy sucks at DIY home improvement

aw maybe this priest didn't do anything THAT bad!

oh fuck nevermind

THE SKY ATE MY SON.

the worms stole my identity. i haven't left the house in days.

man beats german children at game of bravery and wins a coin (he later loses this coin)

my ex boyfriend gets casted in the muppets and dies

sorry mom, i've abandoned jesus for a new religion : jesus in the dark.

tall squiggly and HANDsome

old man arm wrestles demon through door knob

the buzzfeed unsolved guys finally catch a ghost but it's their sound tech

immortality but at what cost

working at the big meat factory was so traumatizing it made me vegetarian

i go to america and get almost killed by a furry

well if you love that wasp nest so much why don't you MARRY it (and then she did)

antisocial boat crew bands together to exclude one guy from a midnight party. he dies from the rejection.

bone apple teeth

remember when that norwegian guy threw a tantrum about us not digging a hole? turns out we were right to not dig that hole.

babe come over my parents have taken ill and passed away

man fucks around and it costs him everything

HOMOPHOBIC CHINESE VASE

oh god oh fuck the worms are here

thank you for participating in worms! please rate your wormsperience from 1 to 10.

the wormsperience has left me deeply scarred. i'm going to get lost in a tunnel about it.

🎸music makes me loose control🎸

spooky stories to tell at the next police slumber party

child threatens to run away and join the circus one too many times, and now the circus has come to cash in.

these mosquitoes are mad sus

man frequents local barnes and noble and then dies(?) after liking a book too much.

realtor gets eaten by the backrooms twice. it's a terrible shame.

both me and this weird goth dude have an unsatisfying italy vacation

guy who turns people's bones gets a new job where he continues to turn people's bones.

man who should never be allowed to build prisons builds a prison.

Something Big Is In The Water.

what if u heard me about 15 feet behind you fumbling around and calling out ur name 😳 (and we were both prison guards)

i'm going to be honest i didn't retain anything from this episode except that this guy has the silliest old man voice ever

everybody hates the tax man, including these creepy taxidermy animals

hmmgh. ant house.

so turns out being only 55% sure that vampires are real in my career as a vampire hunter has had some consequences.

the only thing keeping you company in space is your abandonment issues

🎶 the snack that smiles back 🎶 (my husband!)

maybe the real treasure was the house siblings we encased in spider web along the way.

your dead brother wrote books about ancient myths and WHAT

Part 2

[mononijikayu]

love is the law, religion is taught — ryomen sukuna.

"And what does that make me, my lord?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper. Sukuna looked at you again, his smirk returning but softer this time, almost wistful. "It makes you the only one who matters. Out of everyone, every woman in these lands. You are the only one that matters above them. Behind me.” And behind that, behind Hiromi. You whisper in your head.

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, forced parenthood, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, toxic relationship, depiction of suicide, depiction of suicidal ideation, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of parenthood, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 20k words

NOTE: when i was writing this, i thought it wouldn't be this long. but when i ended up writing more and more, i just couldn't stop. i ended up writing this as a sort of prequel to the other woman's latter parts. if people are aware of me from other websites or just here, you know i write a lot. this 20k usually was my usual writing. but i feel like people like a lot of short stories. i'll post about that some time else. i'm gonna be sorry for breaking more of your hearts like this. the reason this took so long as me drafting multiple times. and then my exams. so, it just...this will be a read. anyway, i love you guys!!! thank you for your birthday wishes. see you later <3

main masterlist

the other woman masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

══════════════════

YOU COULD FEEL THE YEARS IN YOUR BONES. You had been Ryomen Sukuna’s concubine for nearly ten years, a role that once filled you with dread and uncertainty. Over time, however, the nature of your relationship shifted. Unlike the others who served him out of fear or obligation, you had managed to carve out a space for yourself in his world—one of strange but growing trust.

It wasn't love, at least not for you, but it was something. Ryomen Sukuna treated you differently from the others. He sought your company more often, and the violent edge in his voice seemed to soften when he addressed you.

What set you apart wasn’t just your demeanor or willingness to adapt—it was your face, the way you looked almost identical to Ryomen Hiromi, the only woman your husband Sukuna had ever loved.

At first, you didn’t know why he lingered in your presence or why his temper cooled when you were near. It was only after overhearing a conversation between two of his most trusted advisors that you realized the truth. You looked just like her—the woman whose memory still haunted him. You had become a ghost of his past, a stand-in for the love he had lost long ago.

As the years passed, you began to understand Sukuna in ways no one else could. He never spoke of Ryomen Hiromi to you, but in quiet moments, you saw the flicker of something softer in his gaze.

Perhaps he found comfort in your presence because you reminded him of her. Or maybe, in some twisted way, he had come to care for you—not as the woman you were, but as the reflection of someone long gone.

Even so, you knew where you stood. You were the favored concubine, yes, but the specter of Ryomen Hiromi loomed between you, casting a shadow over every fleeting moment of tenderness. You were not her, and you never would be. But in this cruel, tangled relationship, you had become the closest thing Sukuna allowed himself to care for.

You had long since come to terms with your place in Sukuna's world, understanding that his affection for you wasn’t truly yours. Still, it made life easier, gave you a strange sort of power in a place where others lived and died on his whims.

Once in a blue moon, sometimes, you both sat together for dinner. It was a rare occasion, that was for sure. Ryomen Sukuna often eats alone, served by his most loyal servant Uraume. But there were times when he would ask you to join him. It was often late at night, Sukuna didn't sleep well. You doubt he ever does. 

As the sun set and the air turned cool that night, Uraume had come to your chambers and told you that Sukuna summoned you to his chambers to sup with him. You were surprised. But you immediately dressed with the help of your servants and as soon as the last of your satin ribbons were tied to your hair, you rushed out towards his chambers.

When you had arrived, the servants had been tense. It is usually like that when your lord Sukuna does not get what he wants. You apologized to them quietly, as quietly as possible for your lord husband not to hear. You would rather not have him do so. He does not like anyone, anything he owns lower themselves. You told them to leave, to go away. You would rather that it be you in that room alone with him. It would be easier.  

It was one of those rare moments where he wasn’t looking to dominate or torment. Instead, he seemed pensive, sitting by the window, staring out at the horizon. Trays of food were scattered with luxurious food and luxurious ceramic tiles of alcohol. It was not for your husband. He does not need such sustenance.

It was for you, even with your small appetite. You could feel a bile rip through your throat. You purse your lips, walking inside the room and slowly lowering yourself, to bow. His crimson eyes flickered to you as you entered, and the smallest of smirks tugged at his lips. 

“You're late, little one.” he said, his voice deep and teasing, though there was no real malice in it.

"I was making sure I looked presentable, my lord." you replied calmly, accustomed to his games. "I didn't think you'd appreciate rushing in disarray with your servant.”

He chuckled, low and dangerous, but you had learned to discern when that sound held genuine amusement. He urges you forward from your bowing position and you stand up, moving towards him and sitting on the silk pillow as gracefully as you could.

"You always did know how to play the part. Perhaps that's why I tolerate you more than the others."

You sat across from him, not too close, but not far enough to seem distant. "Or perhaps it's because I remind you of her."

At this, his expression shifted. His eyes darkened, and for a moment, you thought you had overstepped. But instead of lashing out, Sukuna leaned back in his chair, his gaze unwavering on you. You looked over the meal and started to plate for your husband, even if he does not eat it. And then yourself. You slowly moved your sleeve away, carefully as you took the alcoholic beverage and started pouring it upon silver cups, first for him and then on your own. 

"You think you're clever, little one?" he said, his tone neutral, betraying nothing. "But tell me... do you believe that’s all you are to me? A ghost of someone who no longer exists?"

It was a question you had pondered many nights alone in your chambers, alone and cold, unable to sleep whatsoever. You wanted to believe that over the years, you had carved out a space of your own in his cold heart, but the truth was undeniable. You were Ryomen Hiromi’s echo, the closest thing he would allow himself to love again. But how much of you, the real you, did he see?

"I don’t pretend to know what goes on in your mind, my lord." you said carefully, holding his gaze. "But I know I am not her. And I know you don’t care for me the way you cared for her."

Silence hung heavy between you. Sukuna's eyes, burning with something unreadable, bore into yours before he spoke again, softer than usual. He uncharacteristically lets his hand move towards the table and slowly takes one of the silver cups full of sake and raises it to his lips. He downs it slowly, letting the cool smooth taste echoes on his throat.

"You're right, little one." he admitted, surprising you. "You're not her. You never will be. Best remember it, hm?"

His words were sharp, meant to cut, but they didn't sting the way they once might have. You were used to those words. And so you do not speak. You let him say what he does and slowly let yourself consume the warm flavorful broth.

Sukuna looks towards you once more, watching you eat some meat. Silence echoes through the room. Instead, they hung in the air like a truth neither of you could avoid. And yet, as he turned his gaze back toward the setting sun, his voice grew quieter.

"But you're the only one who's come close."

It wasn’t an admission of love or devotion—you already know that your lord Sukuna wasn’t capable of that, not anymore. You were used to it. And yet, even if it was something you were used to it — you were still pained by it. But it was the closest you would ever get to understanding his complicated feelings for you. It was all that was left in his pitch black heart that never belonged to Ryomen Hiromi. You swallowed the last of the meat.

"And what does that make me, my lord?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Sukuna looked at you again, his smirk returning but softer this time, almost wistful. "It makes you the only one who matters. Out of everyone, every woman in these lands. You are the only one that matters above them. Behind me.”

And behind that, behind Hiromi. You whisper in your head.

He rose from his seat, approaching you with the predatory grace that always reminded you of the monster he truly was. He cupped your chin, tilting your face up toward him, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. You could feel your breath hitch hotly as his gaze burned your own. You purse your lips, trying to maintain control of yourself.

"But never forget, little one." Sukuna continued, his tone dropping. "You are here because I allow it. You may remind me of her, but you are still mine to control."

You held his gaze, unflinching. "I haven’t forgotten, my lord."

For a moment, the two of you remained like that for a moment. It was as though you were both locked in a silent struggle of power, emotion, and unspoken understanding. Even after ten years, it was just that way. Finally, Sukuna released you, stepping back as though the moment had never happened.

"Good." he said, turning away once more. "Now leave me for the night, little one. I’ve had enough of this sentimental nonsense for one night."

You nodded at him. You drank the last cup of alcohol and let the bitterness burn you. Soon after, you rose without a word, bowing slightly before you made your way to the door. Just before you left, you paused, glancing back at him one last time.

"I wish you a good night, my lord."

He didn’t respond, his attention already back on the horizon. But as you left, you couldn't help but wonder if somewhere, buried deep within him, there was more to his feelings than even he understood.

══════════════════

THE PEOPLE OF HIDA VIEWED YOUR HUSBAND LIKE A GOD. They always have, for as long as you could remember. The grand hall of Ryomen Sukuna’s temple buzzed with the presence of those who had come from all corners of Hida.

The heavy doors swung open to let in petitioners, men and women alike, who approached with heads bowed low, their faces masked with fear or desperation. Some came seeking mercy, others with requests for blessings or favors only Sukuna could grant.

They dared not meet his eyes as they offered up their pleas, knowing that their fates rested on the whims of the man seated high upon the throne.

And there you sat, just below him, on a fine mahogany chair that had been made specifically for you, a symbol of your status within the temple. The carved wood was smooth beneath your fingers, but no amount of comfort could erase the tension simmering beneath your skin.

Sukuna's gaze swept across the crowd with indifference, his presence towering over all as his blood-streaked eyes flickered lazily between the petitioners. You could feel the immense weight of his power bearing down on the room, as though his very presence could crush anyone at will.

But what irked you the most wasn’t the groveling or the constant fear that filled this place. No, it was her.

Directly in front of you, standing tall in the center of the hall, was the statue of Ryomen Hiromi. The woman who had haunted you from the moment you became Sukuna's concubine. The resemblance between you and her was striking—uncannily so.

The cold, lifelike stone eyes stared straight ahead, almost as if they were judging you, just as she had judged countless others. The figure of Hiromi was positioned so that it faced not just Sukuna, but you as well, creating an eerie sense of being under constant scrutiny. Her hands, carved with impeccable precision, reached out in a serene pose, like a goddess looking down on humanity.

It was not just this one statue, either. There were others scattered throughout the temple—statues, paintings, carvings—each one depicting Hiromi in a different light. She was revered here, just as much as Sukuna himself.

The woman Sukuna loved most, the woman you could never truly become, was enshrined in every corner of his temple. Her image lingered like a ghost, haunting you, reminding you that no matter how close you sat to his throne, you would always be second to her.

Sukuna’s voice echoed in the chamber, deep and commanding, as he passed judgment on the next petitioner, his words casual as if human lives were merely tokens to him. You barely listened, too distracted by the sensation of Hiromi’s stone eyes watching you, bored at you with those haunting eyes..

You couldn’t escape her. Not here. Not ever.

Your eyes drifted from the petitioner at Sukuna's feet back to the statue, a chill crawling down your spine. It was too perfect. The way it captured her beauty, her serene expression, the very essence of what made her Ryomen Hiromi—everything that made her more than just a memory for Sukuna.

You wondered, in your darkest moments, whether Sukuna had commissioned these statues himself, making sure they were as accurate as possible, preserving every detail of the woman he loved more than life itself.

The thought gnawed at you.

The crowd shifted again, and you could hear the low murmurs of the people waiting for their turn to kneel before Sukuna. A faint breeze from the temple’s high windows stirred the air, and the faint sound of bells chimed in the distance.

And still, the statue stood, unwavering, staring at you with those lifeless eyes. It was as if Ryomen Hiromi had never left, as if she lingered between this world and the next, a permanent fixture in Sukuna’s heart, never allowing you to forget that you were only here because of her.

“Next.” Sukuna’s voice boomed, pulling you from your thoughts.

Another petitioner shuffled forward, trembling as they knelt. Sukuna watched them with a bored expression, waiting for them to speak.

You didn’t look at him. Instead, your gaze flickered back to the statue—always back to her. She was everywhere. No matter where you turned in this temple, in this life with Sukuna, Ryomen Hiromi was there.

Her presence was eternal, and it was driving you mad.

It wasn’t as if you truly hated Ryomen Hiromi. How could you hate someone you had never met, someone who existed only in the memories of others and in the cold, flawless statues that filled this temple? No, hatred wasn’t the right word. But her presence—her haunting, ever-present likeness—gnawed at you in ways that went deeper than resentment. It was painful.

Painful because every time you looked at her, it reminded you that you would never truly be seen for who you were. Sukuna’s gaze might fall on you often, but you knew the truth. He wasn’t looking at you—he was seeing her. You were a reflection, an echo of the only woman he had ever truly loved. And that knowledge burns inside you, slowly and constantly.

The way her statues were placed, almost reverent, made it clear just how important she was. To the people of this land, Ryomen Hiromi was no less a god than Sukuna himself. Her beauty, her grace, her presence—immortalized in stone—became a legend, a tale passed down from generation to generation. And you? You were simply the woman who bore her face, destined to be a stand-in for a love long lost.

You couldn’t escape it.

Even now, as you sat in that carefully crafted chair below Sukuna’s throne, the image of Hiromi loomed over you. Her delicate features seemed to accuse you, her eyes hollow but full of judgment. It was as if she were silently asking: Why are you here? Why are you in this temple, sitting at his feet, when you could never be me?

Your fingers tightened on the armrests, a subtle but instinctive reaction to the thoughts swirling in your mind. You knew it wasn’t logical to be angry at a statue—at a dead woman whose only crime was being loved by Sukuna—but the feeling still crept in. You had no reason to despise her, but the weight of constantly living in her shadow was suffocating.

Another plea for mercy echoed through the hall, but you barely registered it. Sukuna’s voice was deep, dismissive as he granted or denied requests with a wave of his hand. This was his world, and Hiromi was as much a part of it as you were. More, even. She had her place in his heart, in his temple, in the minds of the people who worshiped them both.

But where was your place? Were you always to be nothing more than a reflection, someone to remind him of what he had lost? And what pained you more was that even after nearly ten years by his side, you hadn’t found an answer to that question. Sukuna had grown accustomed to you, perhaps even fond of you, but you knew that in the deepest recesses of his heart, it was Hiromi’s memory that still held sway.

It hurt in ways you couldn’t explain.

You weren’t her. And no matter how long you stayed by Sukuna’s side, no matter how much you tried to understand him, to navigate the storm of his power and wrath, you could never be her.

A quiet sigh escaped your lips as you lowered your gaze, away from the statue, away from the memory that plagued you. The hall was filled with voices, but none of them reached you. Sukuna’s voice, sharp and dismissive, barely registered in your ears.

The weight of Hiromi’s existence pressed down on you, heavier than the stone statues that surrounded you, more oppressive than the walls of the temple that bore her likeness in every corner. For a moment, you allowed yourself to wonder—a dangerous, fleeting thought—what would it have been like if she had never existed?

If Ryomen Hiromi had never crossed Sukuna’s path, never claimed the part of his heart that was now lost to time, would his gaze fall upon you differently? Would he see you, truly, and not the pale reflection of the woman he had loved so deeply? Could you have been someone significant to him in your own right, not simply because of your resemblance to her?

The thought lingered, bittersweet, filling you with a longing you barely allowed yourself to acknowledge. It was tempting, imagining a world where Hiromi had never been. Where you, instead of living in her shadow, might have been the first to carve a place in Sukuna’s heart, the one to leave an indelible mark on his soul.

But it was a foolish thought, and you knew it.

Hiromi had shaped him. Her love—or perhaps the memory of her—had molded him into the man he was now. She wasn’t just a figure of the past. She was the cornerstone of this entire existence, the silent foundation upon which Sukuna had built his empire, his throne, his identity.

The cold stone likeness of her didn’t just haunt this temple—it haunted Sukuna’s very being. It influenced his every thought, his every action, even the way he looked at you.

You weren’t just living in her shadow. You were her shadow, a reflection of something he could never truly let go of. And no matter what you did, no matter how close you came to him, you would always be caught between the person you were and the ghost of Hiromi.

And the worst part? You couldn’t hate her. Not really.

You wanted to. In those quiet, agonizing moments when you felt Sukuna’s eyes on you, knowing he was searching for traces of her in your face, you wanted to hate Hiromi with all your being. But how could you? She had been everything to him. Her love had meant something so profound that even in death, she lingered, casting her long shadow over the living. Her presence was woven into the very fabric of Sukuna’s existence.

But more than that, you owed her everything. Without Hiromi, without the love that had marked Sukuna so deeply, would he have ever taken notice of you at all? Would he have seen something in your face, something in your eyes that reminded him of the one woman he had ever loved?

Without Hiromi, you might not even be here. Her memory had brought you into his life, kept you by his side for nearly ten years. The recognition that you shared her likeness had made you his favorite, the one concubine who had stayed when so many others had come and gone. In some twisted way, Hiromi had paved the path that led you to this place, to this seat below his throne, to the strange, fragile bond you now shared with him.

But living in her shadow—it was a torment all its own.

Every statue, every carving, every whispered prayer to her image reminded you that no matter how close you came to Sukuna, you were not her. And you never would be. The affection he might show you was born not out of love for you, but out of a love that had long since died with Hiromi. You were the echo of something that had ended, a reflection of a life he had lost.

It was a strange, agonizing paradox. Without Hiromi, you would have nothing, no connection to Sukuna at all. But because of her, you would also never have everything. You could never be the woman he truly loved, no matter how long you stayed at his side.

And so, you sat there, beneath Sukuna’s throne, as the statue of Hiromi looked down on you with cold, indifferent eyes, her presence an inescapable reminder of the role you played in his life.

A role you hadn’t chosen, but one you were bound to, for as long as Sukuna wished it.

You snap back to the present as Sukuna’s deep voice rumbles through the hall, breaking through your swirling thoughts. “What do you think?” he asks, his gaze shifting from the kneeling man before him to you. His expression is unreadable, cold and calculating, as always, though there’s an edge of curiosity in his tone.

You blink, focusing on the man who trembles at Sukuna’s feet, eyes downcast, waiting for his judgment. The hall, filled with the murmurs of the petitioners, goes quiet in anticipation.

“What is his crime?” you ask, your voice calm, though you feel the weight of Sukuna’s gaze on you.

“He stole, little one.” Sukuna replies, a hint of amusement creeping into his voice as if daring you to suggest otherwise. “From one of my temples.”

You sigh softly, leaning back in your chair, your eyes narrowing slightly as you assess the man. His clothes are tattered, his hands dirty and worn—clearly a sign of the hard times that have plagued the land recently. The famine had hit Hida hard this year. Crops had failed, and many of the people were barely surviving, struggling just to feed their families.

“The famine has been hard on all, my lord.” you say quietly, though there’s an edge of empathy in your words. You weren’t excusing the man, but you understood the desperation that drove people to do things they wouldn’t have otherwise done. Hunger was a cruel master, and you’d seen its effects firsthand in the villages.

“That does not mean he is entitled to steal, little one.” Sukuna counters, his tone sharp, though he doesn’t seem angry—more like he’s making a point. “There needs to be justice.”

You purse your lips, knowing Sukuna’s sense of justice could be harsh, final, and unyielding. He ruled with an iron fist, and mercy was not something he granted easily. But you also knew he valued your opinion, at least in his own little ways. After all, you were the one concubine whose voice he truly listened to.

“Then chain him to me, my lord.” you say, your words surprising even yourself. You sit up straighter, meeting Sukuna’s gaze with unwavering resolve. “Let this man serve me in the Vermillion hall. My private garden needs tending. Let him work under my watch so that he may learn a lesson. Let him toil in the hardship of life for his mistake, rather than meet more... final end.”

The man at Sukuna’s feet looks up, his eyes wide with shock, perhaps hope, though he dares not speak. It was almost rare for anyone to be heard speaking with such authority in this hall the way Ryomen Sukuna does.

It was rarer that your voice was heard with such a loud echo. The other woman speaks, they all must think. The rarest words from her lips. Mercy, the virtue of the woman she could never replace, echoing in the stone sight of her.

The hall remains silent, as if everyone is holding their breath, waiting for Sukuna’s response.

Sukuna’s eyes linger on you, studying you for a long moment. You can feel the weight of his power in his gaze, the way he considers your words, turning them over in his mind. He is not a man to grant mercy lightly, and you know the risk you’re taking by asking this of him.

But after nearly ten years by his side, you’ve come to understand how to navigate his moods, his whims, and his sense of order. You knew when to have him indulge you, even when it was not an occurrence you repeated frequently.

Finally, a slow smile curves at the corners of his mouth. It’s not a warm smile—it never is—but it’s a sign that he’s pleased. “Very well, little one.” he says, his voice carrying the authority of his decision. “Let him serve you in the Vermillion hall. He will tend your garden, as you wish. But if he steps out of line—if he falters, even once—you will bring him back to me. He shall meet his end in the hands of his lord. Do you understand?”

There is no mistaking the threat beneath his words. You nod, accepting his terms.

“Thank you, my lord.” you say softly, turning your gaze to the man who has been spared, for now. He looks up at you with a mix of relief and fear, clearly aware of how close he came to a far more brutal fate.

Sukuna leans back on his throne, watching you both, as if amused by the small victory you’ve won for the man. But you know better than to think Sukuna was softened. This was merely a moment of indulgence, granted to you because of the peculiar bond you shared.

As the guards move to take the man away, you return your attention to the grand statue of Ryomen Hiromi, standing in front of you, her stone eyes as cold and distant as ever.

In the shadow of the woman who had everything, you had won a small victory today. But the haunting presence of Hiromi lingered still, reminding you that no matter what you did, Sukuna’s heart would never truly belong to you. And no matter what – your kindness would never be as beloved by the people who revered the stone that was left.

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YOU ENJOYED THE PRIVILEGE OF PRIVACY. Every day, you enjoyed the distant life you had lived here in the Vermillion hall. The Vermillion hall had been a gift from Sukuna, presented to you on your fifth year in his temple.

It wasn’t grand in the way his own halls were, but it was yours. A quiet, secluded enclave within the sprawling temple grounds, removed from the constant presence of the other concubines and the weight of Hiromi’s looming statues.

In the years prior, you had only been given a selection of rooms within Sukuna’s own quarters, close enough for him to visit whenever he pleased. Though his visits were rare, those rooms had been a symbol of your availability to him, a reminder that you were under his thumb, always within reach.

But as time passed, and your bond with Sukuna evolved into something more complex than mere possession, he decided to give you something more. Vermillion hall became yours. It was a gesture that left the other concubines seething with jealousy.

They already despised how close you had become to Sukuna, how often he lingered by your side, and now they had another reason to resent you. You knew that their hatred ran deep, festered in the corridors of his temple, where whispers of favoritism and betrayal echoed in the dark.

To pacify them, and perhaps to create some distance between you and their hostility, Sukuna had given you the Vermillion Hall. It wasn’t a grand act of love, nor was it some romantic gesture. It was practical. The gift served to ease tensions, to quell your growing discomfort, and to offer you a reprieve from the suffocating dynamics of the temple’s inner court.

In Vermillion Hall, you had your own household. Your own space, away from the eyes that burned with envy. Your own garden, tended by servants who answered only to you. There were pleasantries there, comforts that softened the harshness of your life with Sukuna. The hall was peaceful, serene, and for the first time in years, you had a sense of autonomy, a place to call your own.

You were aware of what the gift truly meant. It wasn’t love, not even affection in the way one might hope. Sukuna had never cared in that way. His gestures, while grand, were always calculated.

Vermillion hall was an offering of peace, a way to keep you satisfied, pacified. It wasn’t an act of affection but of convenience. With your own residence, you were removed from the tensions of the other concubines. You were out of the way, kept at a distance while still under his control.

And yet, you were grateful. Despite knowing the reasons behind it, you cherished the hall because it afforded you something you hadn’t realized you craved so deeply—freedom.

You were far enough from the other concubines, from their petty schemes and cruel glares. Away from the prying, stone-cold eyes of Hiromi’s likeness, always watching you from every corner of the main temple. And, perhaps most importantly, you were away from Sukuna’s immediate reach.

Here, in your quiet refuge, you could breathe without constantly feeling the weight of his presence or his demands. The distance didn’t erase your bond with him—Sukuna could summon you whenever he wished, and you would always return—but it allowed you moments of solitude, moments to reflect and gather yourself.

In Vermillion Hall, you found a strange sort of peace. Away from the tempest of Sukuna’s world, you could finally be alone with your thoughts. And in that space, you realized how much you had craved this separation—how, even in your closeness to Sukuna, you had always yearned to be free from the shadow of both him and Hiromi.

The garden at Vermillion hall was your sanctuary. It had been from the moment you first stepped foot into it, surrounded by delicate vermillion petals, fragrant herbs, and the soft hum of nature’s presence.

Sukuna had forbidden the servants from tending to it, decreeing that it was yours alone to care for, a space untouched by others. It was a strange sort of gift—one that granted you solitude but also burdened you with its upkeep.

In the beginning, you had relished the challenge, pouring your time and energy into every plant, every blossom. The act of tending the garden gave you purpose, something to pour your hands into when everything else in your life felt dictated by Sukuna’s whims. It was an escape, a place where you could breathe and let your thoughts wander.

But as the years passed, you found it harder to keep up with. The garden grew wild, sprawling beyond what you could manage alone. The weight of maintaining it, along with the complexities of your life in Vermillion hall, began to overwhelm you. What was once your refuge now became a reminder of your isolation, each untended leaf and overgrown vine whispering of the loneliness you felt within these walls.

That was when Sukuna granted your request—begrudgingly, perhaps—and allowed you a servant. The man who came to you, your new gardener, was named Hironobu. His name meant “gentle abundance” and it seemed to suit him perfectly.

He was a quiet, unassuming figure, with a calm presence that filled the garden like a steady breeze. He wasn’t like the other servants, who always carried a quiet fear of Sukuna in their eyes. There was something different about Hironobu, a certain calm that put you at ease in a way you hadn’t expected.

At first, you barely spoke to him, unsure of how to navigate the strangeness of having someone else in your once-private space. But as days turned to weeks, and weeks to months, you began to find comfort in his presence. He tended to the garden with care, never overstepping, always leaving space for you to do what you wished. But slowly, you began to rely on him more and more. His hands, though calloused, were gentle with the plants, and you found yourself watching him sometimes, noticing the way he seemed to move with the rhythm of the earth.

Conversations began to bloom between the two of you, small at first—a comment about the soil, a shared observation about a plant’s growth. But over time, you began to talk about other things. Life. The temple. The world beyond its walls, which felt like a distant dream. Hironobu listened more than he spoke, his quiet presence a balm to your often lonely existence.

You found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated. Not in the same way you were tied to Sukuna, but in something softer, something more human. Hironobu didn’t see you as a concubine or as someone living in the shadow of Hiromi. He saw you as you were—a person. A soul, just like him.

There was no pretense with him. No judgment. Just quiet understanding.

In the afternoons, you would find him in the garden, kneeling by the plants, his fingers brushing against the earth as if he were communicating with it. You would sit nearby, watching him work, feeling a peace you hadn’t known in years. It was a strange thing, this growing connection between the two of you.

You weren’t sure when it had started—perhaps from the very first time he smiled at you, or perhaps later, when you noticed that being with him felt different than with anyone else.

With Hironobu, the garden began to feel like a sanctuary again, not just from Sukuna or the other concubines, but from your own loneliness. The space that had once been yours alone became something shared, and in that sharing, something beautiful blossomed—a quiet companionship, a bond that grew in the shadow of the vermillion blossoms.

For the first time in a long while, you felt like you weren’t completely alone. Hironobu was there, steady and calm, tending to the garden as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And with each passing day, you found yourself growing closer to him, drawn to the gentle abundance of his presence.

One late afternoon, as the sun began to dip beyond the horizon, casting long shadows across the garden, you found yourself kneeling beside Hironobu. He was carefully pruning one of the flowering shrubs, his focus entirely on the delicate task. You watched him for a moment in silence, taking in the way his hands moved with precision, the soft rustle of leaves under his touch.

“You’ve done wonders with this place, Hironobu.” you finally said, your voice breaking the quiet. “I barely recognize it anymore. It feels… alive again.”

Hironobu glanced up, offering a small smile. “It was always alive, thanks to your good work, my lady. It just needed a little bit more care.”

You could feel warmth brush against your cheek as you nodded, brushing your fingers along the edge of a flower petal. “I couldn’t have managed it on my own. I’m grateful that you’re here.”

There was a moment of quiet between you, the air filled with the soft hum of the garden’s life. Hironobu set down his tools and wiped his hands on a cloth, then looked at you with an expression that was both kind and thoughtful.

“You speak as if you’re alone here, my lady.” he said quietly. “But you’re not. Not anymore.”

His words settled between you, a truth that you hadn’t fully realized until now. The loneliness that had once pressed down on you had lifted, little by little, ever since he arrived.

“I suppose… I’ve gotten used to being alone.” you admitted, your voice softer than before. “It’s been that way for so long. Even when I was with lord Sukuna, surrounded by people, it was always the same. The others… they hated me. And lady Hiromi……” You hesitated, glancing at the distant temple where her statues stood in silent vigil. “She’s everywhere.”

Hironobu’s gaze followed yours, but he said nothing for a moment. Instead, he sat back on his heels and watched you with a gentle patience that you had come to value. You could tell that he had some fondness for Hiromi.

Who wouldn’t? His parents must have told her of the good deeds of Ryomen Hiromi. You were but a nobody and Hiromi, she was immortal to the people, to the land. You were an outsider to these people.

“Do you resent lady Hiromi, my lady?” he asked quietly, his tone free of judgment.

You shook your head, though the truth of it weighed heavily on you. “No. I can’t. How could I? Lord Sukuna loved her. And she is kind and generous, she was genuine, I am sure. But I…..I’m… I’m only here because I remind him of her.”

Hironobu’s brow furrowed slightly, his eyes thoughtful. “And yet, he chose to keep you close. To give you this hall, this garden. That’s not something he does for everyone, my lady. You are important to our lord.”

“Maybe.” You sighed, the weight of your situation pressing down on you once more. “But it’s not love. I doubt it was. Not like it was with lady Hiromi.”

There was a long pause as you both sat in the quiet of the garden, the only sound the soft breeze moving through the leaves.

“Do you wish it was, my lady?” Hironobu asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

You turned to look at him, surprised by the question. His eyes were steady, sincere. It wasn’t the first time you’d wondered that yourself. Would it be easier if Sukuna truly loved you? If you weren’t just a replacement for a woman who was no longer here?

But as you looked into Hironobu’s eyes, the answer felt more complicated than it ever had before.

“I don’t know, Hironobu.” you admitted, your voice quiet. “Maybe at first, I did. But now… I’m not sure it matters.”

Hironobu’s expression softened, and he nodded as if he understood. “Love doesn’t always come in the way we expect it to, my lady.”

You met his gaze, feeling a strange warmth bloom in your chest. There was something about the way he said it, the way his words felt more like an invitation than a simple observation.

“I suppose not.” you murmured.

A comfortable silence fell between you again, and after a few moments, Hironobu stood and extended a hand to help you up. You took it, feeling the warmth of his palm against yours, and for a moment, you stood there together in the quiet of the garden.

“Shall we finish up for today?” he asked, his voice gentle.

You nodded, but as you turned to leave, you couldn’t help but glance back at him. “Hironobu?”

He paused, looking at you curiously. “Yes, my lady?”

“I don’t think I could have done this without you.” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “Not just the garden. Everything.”

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of his lips. “You’re not alone anymore, my lady. I hope you may remember that.”

You held his gaze for a moment longer before nodding, a quiet understanding passing between you. As you walked back toward the hall, you couldn’t help but feel that something had shifted. Not just in the garden, but between you and Hironobu as well. The distance that once separated you felt smaller, and for the first time in a long while, you felt a glimmer of hope.

Perhaps, in the gentle abundance of his presence, you had found something you hadn’t been looking for. Something that, unlike the garden, wouldn’t fade with time.

══════════════════

YOU STARTED TO ENJOY GARDENING WITH SOMEONE. As the days passed in the garden, you and Hironobu grew closer. His laughter filled the spaces that had long been silent, echoing in the air like a sweet melody that danced among the blossoms.

Each shared moment became a thread weaving into the fabric of your existence, bringing warmth and light into your life. The garden, once a sanctuary of solitude and melancholy, transformed into a vibrant tapestry of color and life under his gentle care.

You found yourself eagerly anticipating his visits, counting down the hours until he would arrive, a basket in hand, ready to tend to the plants that flourished under his skilled touch.

The sunlight seemed to brighten when he stepped through the gates of the vermilion hall, illuminating not just the petals of the flowers but your heart as well. Each time he smiled, it felt as though the world around you bloomed anew, and you began to notice the small joys that had previously gone unnoticed—the way the sun filtered through the leaves, the gentle rustle of the wind, and the songs of birds fluttering above.

Conversations flowed easily between you, often starting with the mundane aspects of gardening—discussing the best ways to prune the roses or debating which herbs to plant next. But as you both shared stories and laughter, the dialogue deepened, revealing layers of your souls. Hironobu spoke of his childhood, his dreams of becoming a skilled gardener, and the joy he found in nurturing life. You opened up about your life in the temple, the challenges you faced as Sukuna’s concubine, and the bittersweet longing you felt for freedom.

“Do you remember the first time you showed me how to care for the orchids?” you asked one day, recalling the way he had patiently guided your hands, teaching you the delicate art of nurturing the fragile blooms.

Hironobu chuckled, a warm, rich sound that resonated in your chest. “You were a quick learner. I think you were more excited about getting your hands dirty than the flowers themselves!”

You smiled at the memory, the image of dirt smudged across your palms and the way his eyes had sparkled with amusement. “Maybe I just liked spending time with you,” you replied, your heart racing at your own boldness.

His gaze softened, and you could see a flicker of something deeper in his eyes—something that hinted at unspoken feelings. “I like spending time with you too. You make this place feel alive. It’s more than just the plants; it’s the way you see beauty in everything, even in the shadows.”

His words wrapped around you like a warm blanket, filling the hollow spaces within your heart that had long been empty. You found yourself blushing, the warmth of his gaze igniting a spark of hope in your chest. In those moments, the weight of your circumstances seemed to lift, if only for a while. You felt cherished, seen, and—dare you think it—truly happy.

Yet, as the days turned into weeks, you were reminded of the solitude that lingered beneath this newfound joy. While Hironobu brought a lightness to your life, there was still an underlying ache, a reminder that this connection, as precious as it felt, existed in a world defined by shadows.

One afternoon, as you and Hironobu knelt side by side in the garden, tending to a patch of vibrant marigolds, he paused, his hands resting in the soil. “You know,” he began thoughtfully, “it’s strange how life brings us together in unexpected ways. I never imagined I would find such joy in tending a garden, especially one that belongs to someone as remarkable as you.”

You glanced at him, your heart swelling at the sincerity in his voice. “It’s not just the garden. You’ve brought joy into my life, Hironobu. I can’t remember the last time I felt this… alive.”

His eyes met yours, and in that moment, the world outside the garden faded away. The towering walls of the temple, the looming presence of Sukuna, and the whispers of the other concubines—all of it seemed to vanish, leaving just the two of you, surrounded by the fragrant blooms and the warmth of the sun.

“I wish I could give you more than this, my lady.” Hironobu said softly, his expression earnest. “You deserve to be happy, to feel free. This garden is a refuge, but I want you to feel that way outside of it too.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, the weight of longing and affection intertwining within you. “I… I don’t know what the future holds for me, but right now, I’m grateful for this moment with you, Hironobu.”

One evening, as the sun set in a blaze of oranges and purples, you were gathering a basket of freshly picked herbs when Hironobu approached, his expression unusually serious.

“May I speak with you for a moment?” he asked, his tone almost hesitant.

You set the basket down and nodded, your heart fluttering with curiosity. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

He took a deep breath, his hands clasped together in front of him. “I want to apologize for what I’m about to say, my lady.” he started, his voice steady but laced with a hint of nervousness. “I know it may change things between us.”

Your brow furrowed in confusion. “Hironobu, what do you mean?”

He shifted his weight, glancing away as if searching for the right words. “I’ve grown fond of you—more than I intended to. I can no longer pretend that it’s just admiration or friendship.” He paused, his gaze finally meeting yours, filled with an earnestness that made your heart race. “I’m in love with you, my lady.”

The world seemed to pause at his confession. The weight of his words hung in the air between you, and your breath caught in your throat. You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came.

“I know you are married to lord Sukuna, my lady.” he continued, his voice low and filled with regret. “And I never intended to overstep my bounds. But I had to tell you, because hiding it would only cause me more pain and I would not be fair to you, my lady.”

You took a step back, your mind racing. “Hironobu, I—”

“Please, my lady.” he interrupted gently, raising a hand to stop you. “I don’t expect anything from you. I just needed you to know how I feel. You deserve to know that you’ve brought joy into my life, more than I could ever have imagined. And if you cannot return those feelings, I will understand. I just… I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore.”

The sincerity in his eyes made your heart ache. You felt a mixture of emotions—surprise, fear, and an undeniable warmth that surged through you at his words.

“I never wanted to put you in this position, Hironobu.” you admitted, your voice trembling slightly. “I’ve enjoyed our time together so much, but I… I’m married to lord Sukuna. You know how he is.”

“Of course, my lady.” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper. “But that doesn’t change how I feel. I just thought… perhaps there was a chance you might feel the same way.”

You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation crashing down on you like a wave. Sukuna was a force of nature, and while your relationship with him was complex, it was rooted in years of shared history—of loyalty and duty.

But here was Hironobu, his honesty and vulnerability laid bare before you. He was a breath of fresh air in your life, and the connection you shared felt like a balm to the wounds of your past.

“I—” you began, searching for the right words. “You make me feel seen, Hironobu. Happy. But this isn’t simple. I can’t just—”

“I don’t want you to feel pressured, my lady.” he said, stepping closer, concern etched on his features. “I expect nothing. I only wanted to be honest about my feelings. And take care of you, my lady. You deserve that much.”

You took a deep breath, the weight of your emotions almost overwhelming. “I appreciate your honesty. It means a lot to me, truly. But I can’t deny that this is all very complicated. I never intended for this to happen.”

“I understand, my lady.” he replied, his eyes filled with a mixture of hope and sadness. “Whatever happens, I want you to know that I’ll be here for you. I care about you, and I want to help you in any way I can. I will be your servant, for as long as I live.”

In that moment, something shifted between you. The air felt charged with unspoken possibilities, and though the path ahead was uncertain, the connection you had with Hironobu felt undeniable. You might not have the answers now, but there was a warmth in the garden that promised a new beginning.

“I see.” you said softly, your heart pounding. 

“My lady, I adore you. I always will.” Hironobu said, giving you a small, reassuring smile. “I’ll always be here, tending to the garden—and to you.”

As he turned to leave, you watched him go, your heart racing with a mixture of fear and excitement. You couldn’t help but wonder what this new chapter might hold, not just for you, but for both of you. In the garden’s gentle embrace, you felt a sense of hope begin to bloom, fragile yet persistent.

══════════════════

YOU THINK YOU’VE NEVER BEEN THE PERSON TO PRAY. But in the past ten years, you found yourself finding relief in prayer. It reminds you of your mother’s piety, of your father’s mumbling whispers to the gods, your brothers and sisters sitting beside you.

You haven’t seen them in ten years. But you wish they were well. And even if you don’t see them anymore, this gives you relief.

You knelt in the inner sanctum of the temple, bowing your head in prayer before the statue of Bishamon. Your lips moved silently, asking for a clear mind, but no matter how hard you prayed, you could not banish the thought from your head—Hironobu, your loyal gardener, had confessed his love to you.

It had taken you by surprise. You were Sukuna's concubine. You could not be with Hironobu. And yet, he made you happy in a way you hadn’t known was possible, and your heart was torn. To tell Sukuna was out of the question. If he knew, he could kill Hironobu without hesitation. You shivered at the thought.

The flickering light from the temple’s lanterns cast shadows on the walls, their soft glow doing little to soothe the turmoil raging inside you. How could something so pure—a love untainted by power and possession—be so wrong? How could you feel joy when the very thought of it put Hironobu’s life in peril?

Your mind returned to that moment, the way his eyes had softened when he spoke his feelings, the tenderness in his voice. He had always been gentle, always there with a quiet presence, nurturing the garden you so often found peace in. And now, he wants to nurture you. But you were Sukuna’s, bound to him by fear and something you could never quite define as love. Duty, perhaps. A twisted form of devotion. But love? That was not something you could claim to feel for the man who held you in his iron grip.

A soft breeze swept through the temple, brushing against your skin like a whisper, and you closed your eyes, imagining for a moment what life might be like if things were different. If you could run. If you could be free. But such thoughts were dangerous, reckless even, and you knew you would never act on them.

Just then, you heard footsteps behind you, a familiar presence that made your breath catch. Sukuna.

"I didn’t know you prayed," his voice cut through the silence like a blade, deep and commanding, bringing you back to the harsh reality of your situation.

Your heart raced as you slowly rose from your knees, turning to face him. He stood in the dim light, towering over you as always, his gaze sharp and penetrating.

"I did not take you for a pious woman," Sukuna continued, his eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing you.

"Piety is a comfort, my lord," you replied quietly, your voice steady despite the storm in your chest. "It eases the soul to have someone that listens."

Sukuna’s eyes flicked toward the statue of Bishamon for a moment before returning to you. "Hm," he muttered, unimpressed, though his gaze lingered on you longer than usual. "Then do you pray to me?"

You blinked, taken aback by the question. "What do you mean, my lord?"

Sukuna stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his eyes dark and intense. "Am I not a god?" he asked, his tone low and dangerous. "Your god?"

For a moment, your breath faltered, but then you gathered yourself. You had to be careful. You had to choose your words wisely. A soft, almost bitter smile tugged at your lips. "My lord," you whispered, meeting his gaze with a quiet defiance, "do I not worship you already? Does my entire existence, my suffering, my love for you—" your voice grew quieter, but sharper, "—is it not enough worship for you as my god?"

Sukuna’s expression darkened, his jaw tightening, but he said nothing. His gaze remained locked on yours, and for the first time in your life, you saw something close to uncertainty flicker in his eyes.

But you did not feel victorious. You felt hollow. Because no matter what you said, no matter how sharp your words were, you were still bound to him. Still trapped.

And Hironobu? He would never be yours.

The silence between you and Sukuna stretched on, thick with tension. His gaze remained locked on you, unyielding, as though searching for something deeper within you—some trace of weakness, some sign of betrayal. But you stood tall, your heart pounding in your chest. You couldn’t let him see your turmoil, couldn’t let him suspect that anyone had stirred your heart, least of all someone as lowly as a gardener.

Sukuna’s lips curled into a smirk, though there was no amusement in his eyes. “Careful with your tongue, woman,” he said softly, but the threat in his voice was unmistakable. “There are limits to even my patience.”

You bowed your head slightly, a gesture of submission. “Of course, my lord. Forgive me if my words displeased you.”

He watched you for a moment longer, his gaze piercing through your very soul, before turning away, his crimson robes trailing behind him as he walked toward the temple’s entrance. For a moment, you allowed yourself to breathe, thinking he was leaving, that the conversation had come to an end.

But then he stopped.

“You seem… distant, little one.” Sukuna remarked, his voice casual but laced with suspicion. He didn’t turn to face you, but you could feel his eyes on you, even without seeing them. “Something troubles you.”

Your heart froze. Did he know? Could he sense the conflict within you?

“No, my lord.” you replied quickly, too quickly, the lie on your lips before you could think. “I am merely tired.”

“Tired? This does not seem to be you, little one.” he repeated, his tone dripping with disbelief. Slowly, he turned to face you, and the way his eyes bore into yours made your pulse quicken. “I don’t believe you.”

Your throat tightened as you scrambled for something, anything, to say. “I—”

Before you could finish, Sukuna took a step closer, closing the distance between you in an instant. His hand shot out, grabbing your chin with a roughness that made you wince, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“I am not someone who tolerates deceit, little one.” he growled, his face mere inches from yours. “If something weighs on your mind, you will tell me. Now.”

The air around you felt suffocating, your mind racing with thoughts of Hironobu. You couldn’t tell him. You couldn’t. The truth would mean death—for Hironobu, perhaps for you as well. But Sukuna’s grip tightened, his impatience growing, and you knew you had to give him something.

“I am troubled, my lord. you admitted, your voice shaking slightly. “But it is not something that concerns you, my lord.”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued but still suspicious. “Everything about you concerns me. You belong to me.”

You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to hold his gaze. “It is only… the weight of my life, my place here. Nothing more.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, his grip on your chin loosening slightly. “Your place is exactly where I put you, little one.” he said coldly, his fingers trailing down your neck in a way that made your skin crawl. “Do not forget that.”

“I haven’t, my lord. You must not have to worry.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. 

For a moment, he seemed to study you, searching your face for signs of rebellion, of disobedience. But then, slowly, he released you, taking a step back. You wonder if it was relief or it was disappointment you truly feel — knowing that he does not ask, that he lets you go. You purse your lips in a tight line. But you know that he does not wish to notice it. 

“Good.” he muttered, turning away once more. “Do not forget who holds your life in their hands.”

With that, he strode toward the exit, his presence leaving the room like a dark cloud finally lifting. You stood there, frozen, the echoes of his words reverberating through your mind. He didn’t know. Not yet.

But how long could you keep this secret? How long before Sukuna’s suspicions became too great, before he began digging for the truth? You had already slipped too close to the edge today, and it terrified you to think of how much closer you might come tomorrow.

And Hironobu… how could you ever look at him again, knowing the danger your feelings for him brought? Knowing that Sukuna’s wrath could fall upon him at any moment?

A tear slipped down your cheek, but you quickly wiped it away. There was no room for weakness. Not here. Not in Sukuna’s world. But in the quiet recesses of your heart, where Sukuna could not reach, the thought of Hironobu lingered—like a fleeting ray of light in a dark, unyielding storm.

══════════════════

YOU HAD EXCUSED YOURSELF FROM DINNER EARLY. And you could not take too much food when you were in Sukuna’s chambers. That had concerned Sukuna, even if he did not want to show it. You were a human being after all. And if anything was wrong with you, it concerns Sukuna. You were his. You were a part of him.

And if a part of him was unwell, he must ensure its settled. Ryomen Sukuna had not meant to stay long when he visited Vermillion hall, your residence. He had come for something trivial, something that now seemed insignificant as his eyes fell upon you.

He stood in the shadows, watching from a distance, concealed by the thick trees lining the garden. You didn’t notice him; your attention was entirely on that servant, that Hironobu. He could feel the air punched out of his chest.

The way you smiled at him, laughed softly at something he said—it was a smile Sukuna had never seen on your face before. Genuine, unguarded, free. Happy. In the truest sense. 

That wretched low life Hironobu knelt beside you, tending to the flowers, his hands moving carefully as he spoke to you. There was no fear in his eyes, no hesitation. No, Sukuna could understand it. It was the tenderness he had when he looked at Hiromi. He looked at you as if you were the only thing that mattered in the world.It was love. It was adoration. It was devotion. Sukuna’s chest tightened painfully, and his fists clenched at his sides.

What was this feeling? A tug, something sharp and bitter gnawing at him, growing stronger the longer he watched you with Hironobu. He wasn’t used to this—this strange, almost foreign sensation. He knew anger, jealousy, possession. But this… this felt different. More unsettling

He wonders now, if he’s ever seen that smile on your face when you look at him. If you’ve ever truly been happy in the grace of his existence. But somehow, within the depths of what remains in his heart, there was pain. There was jealousy. There was anguish. There was grief. And he didn’t know why. He didn’t know why he felt like this. His heart had long died. Died with his beloved Hiromi and yet….

His face contorted into a scowl, his jaw tightening. He turned sharply on his heel, his robes whipping through the air as he left without a word. The sight of you with Hironobu left an acid taste in his mouth, and though he hated to admit it, it bothered him in a way he could not explain.

That next morning, he summoned you to break his fast with him—even rarer than supping with him.

When you arrived, the room was dimly lit from the shading silk, the atmosphere thick with something you couldn’t quite place. Ryomen Sukuna sat at the head of the long table, his scarlet eyes dark, his expression unreadable.

You felt a cold knot in your stomach as you approached him, the air between you tense and charged. You were not hungry. You could not feel any pleasure knowing that he was staring at you that way.

“My lord, I greet you with fervent devotion.” you said softly, bowing slightly before taking your place at the table. He didn’t respond immediately, simply watching you with that same piercing gaze that always made you feel exposed.

The silence stretched on, oppressive and heavy, before he finally spoke. “I visited Vermillion Hall last night.”

Your heart skipped a beat. The way he said it, the deliberate pause—it sent a wave of dread washing over you. “I… I was unaware of your visit, my lord.” you replied carefully, trying to keep your voice steady. “You must forgive me if I had not noticed.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, a cruel smile playing on his lips. “Clearly.”

You shifted in your seat, sensing the trap closing in around you. There was a tension in Sukuna that you had rarely seen, something simmering beneath the surface. You remained in your position, feeling a bile stuck on the edge of your throat.

You could feel the sweat fervent on your palm as you gripped your kimono tenderly, hoping he would not notice the tension and fear in you.

“I saw you, little one.” he continued, his tone low and almost too calm. “With that lowly thief of a servant...what was his name....ah yes, Hironobu.”

Your blood ran cold at his words.

You knew what your husband was like.

You had made a mistake, you knew that well.

“I saw how happy you were with him, little one.” Sukuna said, his voice tightening ever so slightly, though his expression remained controlled. “Smiling, laughing, as if there were no worries in the world. It’s a wonder I’ve never seen you look that way with me.”

His words stung, even though you knew better than to show it. You lowered your gaze, knowing you were walking a very fine line. You knew him too well. He considered you a part of him, the god he is.

And everything, it has to be about him. Your existence was taught to worship him. Loving him was the law, even if he would not give it back. And you could not have the same, you know that. 

“I—he was simply tending to the garden, my lord. We merely… spoke as we often do. It was a mere passing laugh and enjoyment.”

“Is that all?” Sukuna asked, his voice taking on a dangerous edge. “Because from where I stood, it seemed more than that, little one.”

You swallowed hard, your hands trembling slightly as you clenched them under the table. You couldn’t lie, not to him. But the truth—how could you explain the way you felt with Hironobu without damaging yourself?

“My lord, I beg for your understanding.” you began, carefully choosing your words. “Hironobu is kind and loyal to me, to you. He tends to the garden and offers his company when I walk, to ensure that he could care for you in caring for me. Nothing more, my lord.”

Sukuna’s eyes flickered with something dark and unreadable. “Kindness?” he sneered, leaning back in his chair. “Is that what makes you smile like that? Is that what makes you laugh so freely? How easy are you, little one? Do you offer such a thing to everyone, is it necessary, little one?”

“My lord—”

You opened your mouth to respond, but his voice cut through the air again, sharper this time. “Do you think I am blind? That I cannot see what’s happening under my own roof?”

Your heart pounded in your chest as you looked up at him, meeting his furious gaze. He wasn’t just angry. No, there was something deeper, something more dangerous. Hurt. Betrayal. You wonder why he feels this way. He had it clear even ten years ago that his heart had died. And that he was a god.

Because how could that be? Ryomen Sukuna was not someone to feel such things, to be vulnerable to them. And yet, as he stared at you, the fury in his scarlet eyes was laced with something raw.

“Answer me, little one.” he demanded, his voice low and threatening. “Is he more to you than just a gardener?”

The truth was clawing at your throat, begging to be let out, but you knew what it would mean. Hironobu would die. Sukuna would never allow it, would never tolerate even the hint of disobedience or disloyalty from you. And yet… Could you lie to him again?

“My lord,he is nothing but a servant tied to me to grace your glory.” you whispered, your voice trembling. “You know…you know I would never betray you, my lord.”

He watched you for a moment. It was then where Sukuna stood abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor as he rose to his full, imposing height. He stalked toward you, his scarlet eyes blazing, and you felt a cold sweat break across your skin.

“If I find out otherwise, little one.” he growled, his hand grabbing your chin, tilting your face up to his. “Hironobu’s kindness won’t be enough to save him. And you—” his voice dropped to a menacing whisper. “—you will know exactly what it means to displease me. You know me the best out of those fools in the concubine hall, do you not? You must know what I am willing to do.”

His grip on your chin tightened for a moment before he let you go, leaving you breathless, terrified, and more trapped than ever. You tried to calm yourself, you know you cannot show more. You cannot appear weak, not like this.

Sukuna’s wrath hung over you like a storm, and as he turned and walked away, you were left with the suffocating knowledge that your secret was on the verge of unraveling.

As Sukuna stormed out of the room, the sliding door nearly breaking along the path he left behind him, you remained frozen in your seat. The air was thick with his lingering presence, the scent of incense mixing with the oppressive tension that still hung over you. Your hands, resting in your lap, trembled uncontrollably. You felt the weight of Sukuna’s warning, his threat echoing in your mind.

Hironobu.

The thought of him twisted your heart painfully. You had always known the danger that came with even the slightest hint of affection for another man, but Sukuna had never been this close to the truth before. His suspicion was like a sword dangling over both your heads, ready to strike at any moment.

You rose from the table slowly, your legs unsteady beneath you. The silence of the grand dining hall was suffocating, every step you took feeling heavier than the last. You could barely think, barely breathe. All you could do was replay Sukuna’s words in your mind. The anger, the possessiveness—and something else. The hurt.

Could it be that Sukuna, the mighty king of curses, had actually been wounded by what he saw? You had always believed that you were just another possession to him, another piece in his vast collection of power and control. But tonight, there had been something deeper in his voice, something almost vulnerable.

And that terrified you even more.

When you reached the privacy of your chambers, you collapsed onto the bed, your body trembling from the weight of the evening. Your heart raced as you tried to steady your breath, but it was no use. Every time you close your eyes, you see Hironobu’s face, his warm, gentle smile—and Sukuna’s cold, furious gaze.

What were you going to do? You couldn’t abandon Hironobu. The thought of him being killed because of you, because of a love you couldn’t deny, was unbearable. And yet, if Sukuna found out, there would be no mercy. Not for either of you.

A soft knock at your door pulled you from your thoughts, and you quickly sat up, brushing away the stray tears that had escaped. “You may enter.” you called, trying to keep your voice steady.

The door creaked open, and to your surprise, it was Hironobu who stepped inside. His expression was calm, as it always was, but there was a softness in his eyes that made your chest tighten. Tension passes through you as much as fear does. You cover yourself with the blankets, as though to shield you from the vulnerability you feel for him.

“You shouldn’t be here, Hironobu.” you whispered, panic rising in your throat. “It is not allowed. This is not…..It’s too dangerous.”

“I know, my lady.” Hironobu replied quietly, closing the door behind him. He crossed the room in a few quick strides and knelt beside you, his hand reaching out to gently take yours. “But I had to see you. I heard that lord Sukuna summoned you and everyone was whispering about him. He was mad, and I was worried that he could harm you, my lady.”

You looked into his eyes, the warmth and sincerity in them a stark contrast to the cold, terrifying presence of Sukuna. For a brief moment, being with Hironobu felt like a balm to the storm raging in your heart. But the danger was too real, too imminent.

“My lord will not hurt me. You must know this.” You wonder if you were saying the right words. Ryomen Sukuna has hurt you. He always has, even if he does not lay a hand on you. “You must trust that.”

“My lady, still—”

“Hironobu.” you began, your voice breaking slightly. “Lord Sukuna saw us in the garden the other day.”

Hironobu’s face paled, but he didn’t let go of your hand. “What did my lord say?”

You shook your head, feeling tears prick at your eyes again. “He’s warned me. He said he saw how happy I was with you, how I smiled while we gardened today. He asked if you were more than just a gardener and servant to me.”

Hironobu’s hand tightened around yours. “And what did you tell him, my lady?”

“I told him I would never betray him. That we are only enjoying the garden together.” you whispered, the weight of your words heavy on your tongue. “But I don’t know how much longer I can keep him at bay to keep you safe. He’s watching us, Hironobu. I do not want him to hurt you, over your kindness and friendship and I fear for you—”

“I won’t let him hurt you, my lady.” Hironobu interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “I’ll leave if I have to. I won’t risk your life.”

“No, no.” you said quickly, gripping his hand tighter. “You can’t leave. That would only make him more suspicious. You are bound to me as a servant. My lord will be suspicious.”

Tears finally spilled over, and you tried to wipe them away, but Hironobu cupped your face in his hands, his thumbs brushing your cheeks softly. “We’ll figure this out, my lady. Do not be afraid.” he said softly, his voice a soothing balm to your frayed nerves. “We have to be careful, even in our friendship, but I won’t let him take you away from me.”

The intensity of his words made your heart ache, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his touch, to forget the danger, if only for a fleeting second. Being with Hironobu felt like a sanctuary, a place where you could be free from Sukuna’s suffocating grip.

But as much as you wanted to stay in this moment, you knew it couldn’t last. Ryomen Sukuna’s shadow loomed over everything, and no matter how careful you were, it was only a matter of time before he would find out the truth. One way or another, even if you had rejected Hironobu, Sukuna will end up being angry. And he would kill him. He would kill him and that would break you.

“I’m afraid, Hironobu.” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “I don’t know how much longer I can keep this up. Not having a life of my own.”

He leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours. “You’re stronger than you think, my lady.” he murmured. “We’ll find a way, even if it means we have to run.”

You shook your head slightly. “He would find us. You know he would.”

Hironobu didn’t argue. He knew the truth as well as you did. Ryomen Sukuna’s reach was vast, his power unmatched. There was no escaping him, not really.

But for now, in the quiet of your chambers, with Hironobu beside you, you allowed yourself to cling to the hope that somehow, some way, you could protect the fragile love you had found. Even if the world around you was crumbling.

The door creaked again, but before you could react, a cold voice sliced through the air.

“I told you, little one.” Sukuna’s voice was low, deadly, as he stepped out of the shadows, his eyes burning with fury, “there are limits to my patience.”

Your heart stopped.

You felt frozen in place.

He had seen everything.

The room felt as though it had been plunged into icy darkness the moment Sukuna stepped forward. His presence filled the air, suffocating, his crimson gaze searing into both you and Hironobu. The warmth you had felt moments before vanished, replaced by a cold, gnawing dread that clawed at your throat.

You stood up quickly, your heart hammering in your chest. "My lord—"

Sukuna’s eyes flicked to you, and the fury in them made your blood run cold. His face was a mask of controlled rage, but there was a darkness beneath the surface, threatening to spill over.

“I warned you, little one.” he growled, his voice low and dangerous, each word like a blade slicing through the air. His attention shifted to Hironobu, who had risen to his feet but made no move to defend himself. There was a strange calm in Hironobu’s expression, but you could see the tension in his body, the readiness for whatever was to come.

“My lord, please.” you begged, stepping forward, your voice trembling. “Please don’t hurt him. He had done nothing wrong.”

Sukuna’s eyes snapped back to you, narrowing. “Do you think your pleas mean anything to me now?” His voice dripped with contempt. “You’ve lied to me. You betrayed me. And for what? A mere gardener?”

Tears welled up in your eyes, but you forced yourself to stay calm, to keep speaking even though your heart was breaking with fear. “He didn’t—he didn’t do anything wrong, my lord. This is my fault.”

Sukuna’s lips twisted into a sneer. “Your fault? Oh, I know it’s your fault. You allowed this to happen. You let him think he could take what is mine.”

Your breath hitched. The possessiveness in the god Ryomen Sukuna echoed in his voice was suffocating, and you knew he was on the edge of doing something irreversible. Desperation clawed at you as you stepped closer, falling to your knees before him.

“Please, my lord. Please. This is not….” you whispered, bowing your head, your hands trembling as you reached out, barely daring to touch the hem of his robe. “I beg you—don’t hurt him. He… he only cares for me. It’s not his fault.”

Sukuna stared down at you, his expression unreadable. For a moment, there was silence—an unbearable, suffocating silence that made your chest tighten with fear. You couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, terrified of what you might see in his eyes.

“I should kill him where he stands,little one.” Sukuna said softly, though his voice was filled with venom. “I should make you watch as I tear him apart, so you understand the price of defiance.”

You gasped, your heart shattering at the thought. “No! Please, my lord, no!”

But before you could continue, Sukuna moved faster than you could react, his hand shooting out and grabbing Hironobu by the throat. The sound of Hironobu’s breath choking in his lungs was like a knife to your heart.

“My lord, please. Please, please—Sukuna!” you screamed, rushing to your feet, your hands trembling as you reached for him. “Please, no! I’ll do anything—anything! Just don’t kill him!”

Sukuna’s grip tightened, his gaze never leaving Hironobu’s face. “Anything?” he repeated, his voice cold and mocking. “What makes you think you have anything left to offer me, after this?”

Tears streamed down your face as you fell to your knees once more, your voice breaking. “I’ll take whatever you impose upon me, my lord—I’ll never speak to him again! Or any one else I swear to you, my lord! Just… please, don’t take his life. It’s my fault. I should have known better. I’ll do anything you ask, my lord. Just spare his life. He had done nothing wrong.”

Sukuna’s grip on Hironobu’s throat loosened slightly, but his eyes remained locked on you, watching your every movement, every tear that fell from your eyes. His lips curled into a cruel smile, but there was no warmth, no mercy in it. He was enjoying this, owning you.

“Is that what you think will save him?” Sukuna asked, his tone soft, dangerous. “Your submission? Your devotion? Little one, I own you. I do not give your submission. You give it willingly. You know that.”

You nodded frantically, your voice a desperate whisper. “Yes… yes, my lord. But I swear to you. I swear, my lord. I’ll submit to you in every way. I won’t resist, I won’t fight. I would continue to be devoted to you, only you.  Just spare him, please.”

Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze flickered between you and Hironobu, his hand still wrapped around the gardener’s throat. The tension in the room was unbearable, and you could barely breathe as you waited for his decision. You feel like you were going to collapse, as you stopped breathing waiting for him to say anything.

For what felt like an eternity, Sukuna said nothing. The silence was deafening, the weight of his power crushing you under its force. You knew that he could kill Hironobu in an instant, with a single flick of his hand. And yet… there was something holding him back.

Finally, Sukuna’s fingers released their hold on Hironobu, and he stepped back, letting the man fall to his knees, gasping for breath. But the danger hadn’t passed. Sukuna’s gaze was still fixed on you, dark and dangerous.

“Get out of my sight.” Sukuna snarled at Hironobu. “If I see you near her again, I’ll tear you apart without hesitation. And there will be no more mercy.”

Hironobu, though clearly shaken, managed to stand, casting a glance at you, his eyes filled with both relief and sorrow. You gave him a small, trembling nod, urging him to leave while he still could. Without a word, he turned and disappeared through the door.

The moment he was gone, Ryomen Sukuna’s attention snapped back to you, and the full weight of his fury descended upon you.

“Don’t think for a moment that this is over, little one.” he said, his voice low and menacing. “You think I’ll just forget this? That I’ll let you off with a warning?”

You looked up at him, your body trembling. “I know… I know you won’t, my lord.” you whispered. “I’ll accept whatever punishment you see fit. Just… please…”

“Please?” he mocked, leaning down so that his face was level with yours. “You think you can still make requests of me after what I saw today?”

You swallowed hard, your throat dry. “I beg your mercy.”

Sukuna’s lips twisted into a cruel smile, and he reached out, tilting your chin up so that you were forced to meet his gaze. “Mercy, huh.” he repeated, his voice soft, but laced with malice. “You think you deserve mercy after betraying me?”

You shook your head slightly, tears still streaming down your face. “No… I don’t. But Hironobu—he didn’t deserve to die for my mistake.”

For a moment, Sukuna simply stared at you, his eyes burning with a mixture of rage and something darker, something possessive. Then, he released you, standing up straight once more.

“You will never see him again. Never again. And not anyone.” he ordered coldly. “You will stay at my side when asked where you belong. Know your place. And if you ever defy me again, I won’t hesitate to kill him—and you.”

You nodded, your heart breaking as you whispered, “Yes, my lord.”

══════════════════

YOU HADN’T TALKED IN A WHILE. Somehow you think you had forgotten what your voice sounds like. Silence has embraced you, as much as the darkness of the once vibrant Vermillion hall.

After that fateful night, everything changed. You isolated yourself in your chambers, the once-vibrant world of your garden now forbidden territory. Hironobu had vanished, leaving only a painful absence that lingered like a wound that refused to heal. 

And there were whispers from the other halls of the temple that Ryomen Sukuna had killed him. You had expected it more or less. But it did not make it any easier. You wept in the silence of your halls.

And you had refused to eat, refused to change your clothes or wash yourself. Days blurred into one another, and the weight of your choices crushed you beneath their unbearable load.

Sukuna did not come to you. He did not summon you to his side. For a time, it felt as though you had become invisible to him, a ghost haunting the halls of the palace. At first, the silence seemed like a blessing; a reprieve from his suffocating presence, from his cruel words and piercing gaze. But as the days wore on, it began to gnaw at you. The solitude was maddening.

The garden that had once been your sanctuary became an unbearable reminder of what you had lost. You couldn’t bear to see the flowers Hironobu had so lovingly tended, the very space where you had felt fleeting moments of happiness. The very thought of stepping outside filled you with dread. You had no desire to face the world, not like this, not without him.

You were trapped—trapped between the suffocating control of Sukuna and the hollow, aching void left by Hironobu’s absence. Every breath you took felt heavier than the last, until even breathing felt like a burden you could no longer bear.

For a time, you thought it would be better to die.

The thought came slowly at first, creeping in like a shadow at the edge of your mind. But the more you dwelled in your isolation, the more it seemed like a mercy—a release from the endless torment of your existence. You had lost everything that mattered. The love you had found with Hironobu was gone, stolen from you by Sukuna’s wrath. And Ryomen Sukuna… he had broken you. His control, his possessiveness, his cruelty had shattered whatever was left of your spirit.

One night, the darkness in your mind swallowed you whole, and you couldn’t fight it any longer.

You had waited until the moon was high, the Vermillion Hall silent. You like to think that Sukuna had ordered everyone to leave you to your loneliness. But it was too late at night. No one came to your chambers anymore. No one would stop you. With shaking hands, you found a length of silk, soft and delicate, and tied it to the ceiling beam. 

The precious gold and vermillion silk had been a gift from Ryomen Sukuna long ago. It was the very name of the hall he had gifted you. One of the hardest silks to find and make. It was a symbol of his wealth, his power. And he gifted it to you, a small echo of ownership to you. How ironic, you thought, that it would be the instrument of your final escape.

Tears blurred your vision as you fashioned the knot, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You stood on the edge, your heart pounding in your chest, and for a moment, you hesitated. But the pain in your heart, the unbearable ache of everything you had lost, pushed you forward.

In the cold stillness of that moment, you stepped off the edge.

You woke in a haze, your body weak and aching, the dim light of dawn filtering through the curtains. You weren’t dead. Somehow, impossibly, you were still here. Confusion clouded your mind as you tried to move, but your limbs feel heavy, your throat raw.

And then you saw him.

You weren’t sure the first time.

But you let yourself look again.

Ryomen Sukuna was sitting beside your bed, his presence unmistakable even in the pale morning light. His expression was unreadable, his dark crimson eyes fixed on you with a strange intensity. For a long moment, neither of you spoke. You couldn’t speak well anyway. Your throat hurts.

You had never seen him like this before—silent, unmoving, almost still as a statue. His gaze roamed over you, lingering on the dark bruises around your neck, the evidence of your desperate attempt to escape.

“Why?” he asked, his voice low and dangerous, but there was something else there too—something you couldn’t quite place.

You turned your head away from him, shame and sorrow overwhelming you. You force yourself to speak, even if it hurts. “Because… I can’t live like this anymore, my lord.” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “I’ve lost everything.”

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of something passing over his face. “Everything? Do you think I would allow you to take your life without my permission?”

A pained bitter laugh escaped your lips, though it hurt to do so. “I can’t even die on my own terms?”

Sukuna leaned forward, his hand gripping the edge of the bed with barely controlled rage. “You think death would be an escape from me?” he hissed. “You belong to me, even in death, little one. Running away, it will not save you from me.”

Tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you couldn’t hold them back any longer. “I belong to no one!” you cried, the words tumbling out in a flood of pain. “Not anymore. Not after what you’ve taken from me.”

For a moment, Sukuna was silent, his expression dark and unreadable. Then, unexpectedly, his voice softened, though it remained cold. “You’re a fool.”

You turned to face him, your eyes red and swollen. “Why? Because I dared to want something else? Because I dared to love someone else? Even as a friend? My lord, I suffered for your sake. Being devoted to you like it is a law. It was…it was just a friend. A friend. And I cannot even have them. What am I to you, my lord? More than…more than someone who suffers worshiping you.”

He stared at you, his gaze penetrating, but he didn’t answer immediately. His fingers brushed against the bruised skin of your neck, and you flinched, but he didn’t pull away. There was a strange, almost possessive tenderness in his touch.

“You think this makes you free?” Sukuna murmured, his voice low. “You’re more mine now than you ever were before, little one.”

You shuddered, his words striking deep. “Why?” you whispered, barely able to hold back the sob in your throat. “Why do you care?”

Sukuna’s eyes burned with an intensity that made you tremble. “Because you’re mine, little one.” he said, his voice a dangerous whisper. “And I do not let go of what is mine so easily.”

There was no warmth in his words, no comfort. But for the first time, you saw something raw in his eyes—something that looked dangerously close to vulnerability. You swallowed hard, your throat aching from both the bruises and the tears. 

“Then why did you come?”

Sukuna’s expression shifted ever so slightly, and for a brief moment, you saw a flicker of something in his eyes—something like regret, though he would never admit it. You know that too well. Ten years of marriage to this cruel soul, this cursed man turned god — you would never hear those words of comfort. Not even if you asked.

“Because I won’t let you die, little one.” he said, his voice steady but quieter than you had ever heard it. “Not like this.”

You stared at him, your heart aching with too many conflicting emotions to name. In that moment, you realized something. You were trapped, not just by Sukuna’s power, but by the strange, twisted bond that tied you to him. He would never let you go. Not in life, not in death.

And that thought was more terrifying than anything else.

══════════════════

YOU COULDN’T HELP BUT STARE AT HIM. You weren’t fully recovered from your injuries just yet, but the healers had let you return to your daily life. You had just finished attending to your lord Sukuna in the audience hall. You stopped as he appeared before you, as you changed into more leisure clothing. 

And you were unsure what he was saying to you. But the weight of Sukuna's words hung heavy in the air, his gaze as piercing as ever as he stood before you, his expression unreadable. He was not giving you anything, but orders. And you’re curious. As much as you were surprised. 

“You will take care of the child, little one.” he said, his tone brooking no argument.

Your breath caught in your throat. “A child? I know nothing about children, my lord.”

Sukuna’s crimson eyes narrowed slightly, a flicker of amusement in the corner of his lips. “You will learn.”

For a moment, you stared at him, searching his face for any sign of the usual cruelty, but there was something different this time. This wasn’t a command born purely from spite or possessiveness. It felt heavier, more deliberate, as if he had considered this for a long time. You felt the familiar helplessness rise within you, the sense that you were powerless to refuse him.

“I… I will do as you ask, my lord.” you whispered, defeated. The words felt hollow, but they were the only ones you could manage. Sukuna merely nodded, his expression hard, before turning and leaving the room.

Days passed, and the dread settled deep in your bones as you waited for the child to arrive. You didn’t know what to expect, but Sukuna’s commands were absolute. There was no running from this.

And then, one morning, the child was brought to your chambers.

You stood at the door, frozen, as the small figure stepped forward. Your breath hitched in your chest as you looked down at the little girl before you. Her features were delicate, her long hair falling softly over her shoulders. She couldn’t have been more than five or six years old, but there was something far older in her gaze.

The child looked up at you, her eyes startlingly familiar—crimson, like Sukuna’s. They stared into you with a haunting intensity that made your heart skip a beat. But it wasn’t just Sukuna’s eyes that made you pause. No, there was something else, something that chilled you to your core.

The girl’s face, though youthful and innocent, bore the unmistakable likeness of someone you thought you’d never see again.

Ryomen Hiromi.

Your heart clenched painfully, and the room seemed to spin for a moment. It was impossible, and yet… the girl standing before you had Hiromi’s face—her soft features, her kind eyes, but mixed with the piercing gaze of Sukuna. You’ve seen enough of her statues all around the temple palace that you’re too certain. 

You swallowed hard, struggling to comprehend what you were seeing. Your chest felt tight as memories of Hiromi flooded your mind, of the woman you had once known, the one who had been so important to Sukuna.

Ryomen Sukuna entered the room behind the child, his presence like a storm cloud looming over you both. He regarded you with cold detachment, though there was something in his gaze that suggested this was not a simple matter for him either.

“This child…..” Sukuna began, his voice calm but commanding. “is Hiromi’s daughter. The child she lost long ago.”

You stared at him, shock rippling through you. “Hiromi’s… child?”

Sukuna nodded. “I found her soul.” he explained, his voice low and steady. “It was not easy, but with the help of a… trusted friend, I was able to bring her back. Her body grew anew, and now, she is here. Alive. For me to keep, as her father.”

Your mind raced, struggling to grasp what he was saying. Sukuna had brought the child back from the dead—had found her soul and, through some dark means, restored her. And now, this little girl, this child with Sukuna’s eyes and Hiromi’s face, stood before you. 

And to be her father? Not only that, but to force you to be a mother. To raise her, knowing how much the ghost of her mother haunts you already. You do not know what to do. You could feel your lips still reflect a gaping hole, wide open in shock.

“Why me?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. “Why have you given her to me? Her mother’s kin still lives, my lord. Would they not want to know—”

Sukuna’s gaze darkened, his eyes narrowing slightly. “It does not matter what they want. You will raise her, little one.” he said simply. “You will care for her as if she were your own.”

You took a step back, overwhelmed by the weight of his demand. “But I don’t know how to care for a child, my lord I—”

“You will learn. You are not half–witted, aren’t you?” Sukuna interrupted, his voice sharp. “There is no other choice. I have willed it. And you shall follow it.”

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You wanted to argue, to refuse, but you knew it was futile. There was no escaping Sukuna’s will. He had given you this child, and there was no turning back now.

The girl stood quietly between the two of you, her small hands clasped in front of her, watching the exchange with an unnerving calmness for someone her age. Her eyes—her father’s eyes—bore into you, as if she already knew more than you did, as if she carried the weight of her past life with her. Her mother’s face haunted you already. Why? Why must you be haunted like this?

“This was Hiromi’s child. And I cherish her.” Sukuna said again, more softly this time, as if the words held a deeper significance for him. “Now, she is mine. Mine own daughter. You will raise her for me.”

You could only nod, the enormity of it all crashing down on you like a tidal wave. Sukuna’s presence was suffocating, but the child’s gaze was what unsettled you the most. It was as if Hiromi’s spirit lingered within her, a ghostly reminder of the life Sukuna had shared with her, of a woman who had meant more to him than perhaps you ever could.

And now, you were tasked with caring for the last piece of Hiromi that remained in this world—a child born from tragedy, resurrected by Sukuna’s dark power.

“What is her name?”

He stops for a moment.

“Chiharu.” He says in response. “Ryomen Chiharu.”

“Very well, my lord. I will… do as you ask, my lord. I shall care for your child.” you whispered, your voice trembling as you looked down at the little girl. She met your gaze with those unnerving eyes, and you felt a strange chill creep up your spine.

Sukuna lingered for a moment longer, his gaze flicking between you and the child before turning to leave. As he walked away, his parting words echoed in your mind.

“Do not fail me in this.”

Days turned into weeks as you adjusted to the new rhythm of life with Chiharu, the little girl now under your care. At first, it felt surreal to be responsible for someone so precious yet so fragile, a living reminder of a past life you could barely comprehend. But as time passed, the weight of your circumstances began to feel lighter, replaced by a sense of purpose you hadn’t expected to find.

Young Chiharu was a curious child, with a spirit that seemed undaunted by the complexities of her existence. She often wandered the halls of the palace, her footsteps soft against the cold stone floors, exploring every corner with wide-eyed wonder. It was in those moments that you found yourself drawn to her, your heart softening as she chartered away, her laughter ringing like music in the otherwise somber atmosphere of the palace.

Every evening, you would sit together in the garden in the Vermillion hall—the one place you had once avoided. Underneath the lush foliage, you would share stories, and slowly, you learned more about her.

Chiharu would speak of her dreams, her favorite flowers, and the little things that made her smile. She spoke of animals she wished to have, tales she had heard of distant lands, and the kindness she hoped to find in a world that had been cruel to her before.

As you listened to her, you found yourself revealing bits of your own life, your own fears and desires. With each passing day, the bond between you grew stronger, entwining like the vines in the garden. You shared laughter and quiet moments, and you began to feel a warmth blossom in your heart—a sense of family you had thought lost to you forever.

It was during one of these serene afternoons that Chiharu turned to you, her bright scarlet eyes glinting in the sunlight. “Mama.” she said softly, her small hand reaching for yours. 

The word felt foreign, yet sweet on her lips. Her mother was someone that she will never get to know again. You knew were not her mother, you knew that too well. But you felt a swell of warmth in your chest at the sound, as if she had bridged a gap that had long remained unfilled. You were not born to be a mother, you knew you would never be one. And yet, in her eyes — you were. You were born to be her mother.

“Yes, my sweet little flower?” you replied, your heart fluttering at the connection that had formed between you.

“Why did lord Sukuna name me Chiharu?” she asked, her gaze steady and curious.

You paused, contemplating how to answer her question. “Chiharu means a thousand springs, little flower.” you explained gently. “It’s a beautiful name, one that speaks of new beginnings, renewal, and growth.”

The little girl tilted her head, a thoughtful expression crossing her face. “But why did he choose that name for me?”

Your heart ached at the thought of Sukuna’s motivations. “I believe he saw something special in you. Perhaps he wanted to honor your connection to your past, to lady Hiromi. You are her child, Chiharu. And in a way, you are also a part of your lord father.”

“But you are my mother.” You hear little Chiharu whisper. 

You did not know what to say. 

You try to recover from her words.

You smile, for her sake, you think.

But you smiled for your sake too.

“We are both your mother.” You whispered back to her, putting her stray hair against the back of her ear. “But I am the one here at this moment, little flower.”

You watch her eyes brighten at the thought. “Truly?”

“Truly.” You smiled wider at her.

“What about my father?”

“Hm, what about my lord, little flower?”

Chiharu’s brow furrowed. “Do you think he loves me?”

The question caught you off guard. “I know he cares for you. That’s what I believe. In his own way, he has love.” But none for me.

Her small face lit up with a smile, though it was tinged with innocence and uncertainty. “I want to make him proud.”

A lump formed in your throat at her words. “You already make me proud, sweet flower. And that is what matters most.”

The connection between you and the young girl continued to deepen, woven through shared moments and quiet revelations. You discovered that Chiharu had a talent for painting, her little hands creating vibrant images that brought life to the entirety of the Vermillion hall. And you could not help but find joy in such revelations.

You encouraged her to explore her creativity, and soon, the once-dim walls of your home were adorned with her colorful drawings, depicting flowers, animals, and fantastical creatures. Even if the servants were concerned, you waved such words away. The Vermillion hall looked brighter with the scarlet flowers she drew everywhere.

Ryomen Sukuna would occasionally visit, his presence like a thunderstorm that cast shadows over your peaceful existence. When he did, Chiharu would run to him, her bright scarlet eyes sparkling with delight.

Despite the tension that accompanied his visits, you could see that he had a soft spot for her—a fleeting warmth that illuminated his otherwise cold demeanor. He adored this young girl, more than you know. He had given her such warmth more than anyone you had ever seen. 

One evening, as dusk settled over the Vermillion hall, Ryomen Chiharu presented one of her paintings to Sukuna, her little hands trembling with excitement. “Look, lord Sukuna!” she exclaimed, holding up a vibrant depiction of a cherry blossom tree, the one standing in the middle of your never–ending gardens. “It’s for you!”

Sukuna studied the painting, his expression inscrutable, but you could see the flicker of something in his eyes. Perhaps pride, perhaps surprise. “You’ve done well, little blossom.” he said, his tone low and steady. “You had captured the lady’s cherry blossom with exquisite likeness.”

The child beamed at his praise, her cheeks flushed with joy. “Do you like it?”

“It is… acceptable, little blossom.” he replied, and though the words were blunt, there was a hint of approval lingering in his gaze. “I am certain that you will make more.”

You had wished that this was your life.

That you live forever in this moment.

But you knew better than to wish for that.

As the night deepened and the shadows in the grand hall stretched longer, Sukuna rose from his seat, his presence overwhelming as always. You called for Chiharu, who hesitated, her tiny face scrunching up in a pout. She clung to you, reluctant to leave, her voice soft, "I don’t want to go. My lord doesn’t come often anymore… I want to tell him about my day."

You knelt down, brushing your fingers through her hair and smiling gently. "He’ll come tomorrow, just like he promised, little flower." you reassured her, though a small part of you doubted the certainty in your words. She needed that hope, even if it felt fragile.

With one last glance toward Sukuna, Chiharu allowed herself to be led away by the servants, her footsteps fading down the hall. Silence settled between you and Sukuna, thick and awkward at first. He didn’t look at you immediately, instead gazing out into the night through the open windows, as if lost in thought.

“You take good care of her, little one.” Sukuna finally said, his tone gruff but softer than you expected. It was strange hearing thanks from him—it sounded unnatural coming from the King of Curses, yet there was sincerity in the rough edges of his words. "For that… I thank you."

You blinked, the weight of his gratitude sinking in. It felt strange, almost surreal. Sukuna, of all people, expressing appreciation. You inclined your head, accepting it quietly. "It’s nothing, my lord. She deserves the best care."

The silence that followed wasn’t uncomfortable this time, though. Instead, it felt like a mutual acknowledgment of the one thing you shared—a fondness for Chiharu.

You’ll never love me. you thought, the truth of it sitting heavy in your heart. But you didn’t need to say it aloud. You already knew. Still, the small moments like these, where his walls slipped just enough for you to catch a glimpse of something more, were what you held onto. You treasured whatever you could get, however fleeting.

Sukuna’s gaze finally met yours. It was sharp, piercing as always, but there was something softer lingering beneath his usual coldness. "I’ll come tomorrow. Like I promised."

And for tonight, that was enough.

After he departed, you drank a little. 

It was better to mourn what could not be early.

When Chiharu returned, well bathed and dressed for the night, the two of you sat together beneath the cherry blossom tree in the garden. She had to dry her hair before she could get some rest. Her small hands clutching the other painting she had made tightly. 

“Do you think he really liked it?” she asked, her voice soft.

You smiled gently at her, cupping her face in your hands. “I believe he did. He may not show it, but he cares for you in his own way. You are a light in his life, little flower.”

Her eyes sparkled with hope, and for a moment, you felt a sense of unity in your small family, a connection that defied the darkness surrounding you.

As the petals fell around you like confetti, you realized that despite the chaos of your circumstances, you had created a sanctuary for both yourself and Chiharu—one filled with laughter, art, and the promise of new beginnings.

And in those moments, as the sun dipped below the horizon, you dared to believe that maybe, just maybe, you could carve out a piece of happiness amidst the shadows.

══════════════════

IT WAS JUST ANOTHER NIGHT. But it was still something that caused you grievance. As night fell and the palace was shrouded in silence, you found yourself restless, wandering the dimly lit halls, your thoughts heavy with the weight of your circumstances.

Chiharu slept peacefully in her little room, the faint glow of moonlight spilling through the window, casting soft shadows on her innocent face. You paused to watch her, a smile tugging at your lips, but it was quickly overshadowed by the familiar ache in your chest.

The truth was inescapable: no matter how much joy Ryomen Chiharu brought into your life, the shadow of Hiromi loomed over you like a specter. You couldn’t shake the feeling that everything she represented was a constant reminder of your own insignificance in Sukuna's world.

Hiromi had been the one to hold Sukuna's love, the one whose memory seemed to linger in every corner of the palace. She was the woman who had given him a child—a child who was now the light of his life, while you remained in the dark, clinging to scraps of his attention. It was a bitter thought that twisted in your mind, gnawing at your heart.

As you lay in bed, staring up at the intricately woven patterns on the ceiling, you couldn’t help but compare yourself to Hiromi. She had everything: his love, his devotion, a child who would carry a piece of her with her always. And what did you have? Nothing but the remnants of Sukuna’s affection, which felt more like an obligation than anything else.

You turned onto your side, burying your face in the pillow, trying to drown out the thoughts that haunted you. But the more you tried, the louder they became. You could still hear the echoes of his voice from earlier, the way he had looked at Chiharu with an intensity that made your heart clench.

He was a monster, but he was her father—someone who had chosen to resurrect her from the depths of despair. He had given her a life filled with warmth, while you were left with the remnants of a hollow existence.

“Hiromi has everything in my lord Sukuna.” you whispered into the darkness, your voice trembling. “A dead woman, and I have nothing.” Tears slipped from your eyes, soaking the fabric of the pillow. “She gave him a child, love, and he keeps it. And nothing of me.”

You couldn’t understand why it hurt so much. You had wanted to be close to Sukuna, to carve out a space in his heart that felt like home, but every time you looked at Chiharu, you were reminded of your failure. You were the one who existed in the shadows, the one who couldn’t compete with the memory of a woman long gone.

You closed your eyes, squeezing out the tears that felt like a dam breaking within you. Each drop felt like a piece of your heart spilling out onto the floor, a tangible reminder of your torment. You were grateful for Chiharu, but the bittersweet reality of your situation consumed you.

After what felt like hours of battling your own thoughts, you finally rose from your bed and made your way to the garden. The night air was cool against your skin, and you could hear the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze. As you stepped into the moonlight, you were enveloped in a quiet stillness, yet it did little to ease your turmoil.

You found yourself standing beneath the cherry blossom tree, its delicate petals fluttering like whispers in the wind. It was a beautiful sight, but it only deepened the ache in your chest. You remembered how Chiharu’s eyes had sparkled with excitement when she painted that tree, how her laughter had filled the air like music.

But even as you admired its beauty, you couldn’t escape the lingering shadow of Hiromi. “Why do you haunt me?” you murmured, your voice breaking as you gazed up at the stars. “Why can’t I escape your memory?”

You sank to your knees beneath the tree, your fingers brushing against the cool earth. “I don’t want to compete with you.” you whispered, your heart aching with the weight of your confession. “I just want to be enough… for him, for Chiharu.”

The wind picked up, rustling the leaves above you, and in that moment, it felt as though the world held its breath. You could almost hear Hiromi’s laughter, see her warm smile—a gentle reminder of the life she had once lived.

A tear rolled down your cheek, and you let it fall, feeling the weight of your grief and jealousy wash over you. You had tried so hard to be strong, to forge a bond with Chiharu, but the reality of your situation loomed like a dark cloud, threatening to engulf you.

As you knelt there, surrounded by the whispers of the night, you could feel Sukuna’s presence looming in the back of your mind. He was a force of nature, a tempest that left destruction in its wake, and you were caught in the storm.

“Will I ever matter to you?” you asked softly, the question lingering in the cool night air. The silence answered you, an empty echo of your unfulfilled desires.

The moonlight bathed the garden in a soft glow, but no matter how beautiful it was, the ache in your heart remained. You rose to your feet, wiping the tears from your face, knowing that you had to keep moving forward—for Chiharu’s sake, if not your own.

Tomorrow would bring new challenges, and you would face them with the strength you found in your love for the little girl who had unexpectedly entered your life. But tonight, in the shadow of a woman you could never compete with, you allowed yourself to grieve—grieve for what could never be, for the love that felt so far out of reach.

As you made your way back to your chambers, the weight of Hiromi’s legacy still pressed on your heart, but you clung to the hope that perhaps, one day, you could carve your own place in this world—one that belonged to you, and to Chiharu.

══════════════════

YOU WERE EXHAUSTED FROM THE WORK ALL DAY. But as the lord summoned you, you were inclined to attend to him. That is just how it was. It has been two years now, since Hironobu, since Chiharu had come to live with you.

And a lot had since changed with the way you and Sukuna existed together. Perhaps, it is what it is. This is all that is left. You think you would like to be content with that.

The evening was cloaked in a haze of amber light as you and Sukuna sat across from each other in the dimly lit chambers, the air thick with tension. A selection of fine spirits lay on the table between you, remnants of a night that had spiraled into a blur of laughter and inebriation. But the laughter had faded, leaving behind a bitter residue that clung to your heart.

You raise your glass, your hand slightly unsteady as you downed another shot, the liquid fire coursing down your throat. It was supposed to be a moment of camaraderie, an attempt to bridge the growing chasm between you. Instead, it felt like a catalyst, igniting the frustrations that had been building within you.

Sukuna watched you with a bemused expression, but there was a glint in his eyes—something predatory, something that made your heart race. Fueled by the alcohol and the raw emotion coursing through you, you slammed your glass down on the table, the sound echoing in the silence.

"You took everything I have!" you slur drunkenly, your voice breaking as the words tumbled out. "I gave you everything I had, and I am miserable because of it!"

Sukuna’s brows furrowed, and for a moment, the playful smirk slipped from his face, replaced by a flicker of confusion. But you pressed on, the anger and despair and somehow bitter laughter mingling in a toxic blend that fueled your fury.

"You made me miserable with you! The one shot of joy I have in my life—someone who could care for me—and you take him away from me? What have I done to you to make me suffer like this, my lord?"

The room seemed to spin, the walls closing in around you as the weight of your words settled heavily in the air. The tears that had been threatening to spill finally broke free, cascading down your cheeks as you fought against the sorrow that threatened to engulf you.

"I regret you, sometimes! Everything of you, I regret!" you cried, the confession tearing from your lips like a wounded animal. A laugh escapes you. “Ah, I am driven mad. I thought….I thought to be content but somehow, I kept thinking and thinking. The questions of what if I had chosen some other path.”

Sukuna’s expression hardened, his eyes narrowing as he took in your words. You could see the tumult of emotions playing across his face—anger, frustration, maybe even hurt. But he didn’t speak, and the silence hung heavy between you.

“You think this is easy for me?” he finally said, his voice low and dangerous. “You think I wanted to hurt you?”

You shook your head, your heart pounding in your chest. “You have no idea what it’s like! To live in the shadow of someone who came before me! To feel like I’m constantly competing with a ghost!”

The bitterness of your words filled the room, and you could see the flicker of something deep within him. A flicker of regret? Anger? It was hard to tell. What could there be left between two people who don’t talk? What could be left between two people who don’t understand each other well, and yet pretend they do?

“You think I don’t suffer too?” he challenged, his voice rising little by little. “You think I don’t care about you?”

You paused, the anger momentarily dissipating as you searched his face for any hint of sincerity. But all you saw was the monster—the god, the force of nature that had swept into your life and turned everything upside down.

“Then why do you make me feel like this?” you whispered, the vulnerability in your voice cutting through the tension. “Why can’t you just let me be happy? With Hironobu… with Chiharu… with anyone?”

A shadow crossed Sukuna’s face, and for a moment, it felt like you had struck a chord. But he quickly masked it, his expression turning cold once more. “Hironobu is nothing to me. He is weak, a distraction.”

“That ‘distraction’ makes me happy!” you yelled, frustration spilling over once more. “He cares for me in a way you never could! He makes me feel like I matter!”

Sukuna’s gaze hardened, but beneath that facade, you could see the conflict churning. You took a step forward, your heart racing. “I don’t want to be your pawn anymore. I don’t want to be a part of your world if it means losing everything I love!”

The air crackled with tension as the two of you faced each other, the weight of your words hanging between you. And then the dam broke. You collapsed into tears, the alcohol amplifying your emotions as you fell to your knees, sobs wracking your body. The tears spilled unchecked, your heart breaking under the weight of it all.

“I hate this!” you cried out, your voice muffled by the floor. “I hate feeling like this! I hate you!”

Sukuna stood frozen, a statue of power and control as he watched your breakdown unfold. But as your cries filled the room, something shifted within him.

He took a step closer, his presence looming over you like a storm cloud, and yet, despite the turmoil, you felt a flicker of something more—something like concern.

“Get up, little one.” he commanded softly, his voice low and steady. “You’re stronger than this.”

But you shook your head, your heartache spilling over. “I don’t want to be strong anymore. I just want to be free.”

There was a moment of silence as you both stood at the edge of a precipice, and for the first time, you could see the weight of your shared pain reflected in his eyes.

“I’m sorry.” he said finally, the words heavy with unspoken understanding. “You know it well, little one. I will never set you free.”

You didn’t know if he was apologizing for Hiromi, for Hironobu, or for the pain you both carried, but it was a start. You slowly rose to your feet, wiping your tears, though the hurt still lingered in your chest. You think that it doesn’t matter anymore. It never does.

Sukuna stood before you, an imposing figure, but in that moment, you could see the man behind the monster. The flicker of vulnerability lingered in the depths of his gaze, an acknowledgment of the bond that tethered you both to a past neither of you could escape.

“I may never be what you want me to be, little one.” he murmured. “But I won’t take away your happiness again.”

You looked into his eyes, searching for sincerity, and for the first time, you felt the hope of a fragile truce forming between you. It was a small step, but it was a step nonetheless, one that could lead you both out of the darkness and into the light—if only you could find the strength to keep moving forward.

The air was thick with unspoken emotions as you and Sukuna stood facing each other, the weight of your words still hanging heavily in the silence. His gaze bore into yours, a mix of intensity and something softer that made your heart race. You felt as if you were standing on a precipice, caught between the fear of falling and the desire to soar.

“I want to believe you, my lord.” you said quietly, the tremor in your voice betraying the storm of emotions still raging within. “But you have to understand… every time you pull me closer, it feels like you’re pushing me away. I can’t live like this—constantly afraid of losing everything.”

Sukuna’s expression shifted, a flicker of regret passing over his features. “I never meant to hurt you, little one.” he replied, his voice low. “But my world is not kind, and I can’t…..I can’t be what you want me to be. I cannot be kind to you.”

“But that’s just it!” you exclaimed, frustration bubbling up once more. “You’re so powerful, yet you let this darkness consume you! You wield it like a weapon, and I’m the one left in the crossfire! Why am I always suffering for your sake?”

He took a step closer, the space between you diminishing as he searched your face for understanding. “I am a monster, little one.” he said, his voice raw. “I have done terrible things—things that haunt me. But I never wanted to drag you into that darkness. You deserve to be happy. But….it is not meant to be. And we are…we are stuck together, whether you like it or not, in this cage.”

“Then why does it feel like you’re the one who keeps me from it?” you challenged, your heart racing. “I’m so tired of living in your shadow, of feeling like a mere afterthought in your life. Every time I see you with Chiharu, it reminds me that I am just a placeholder—a ghost of a memory that doesn’t matter.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, you feared you had pushed too far. But then he reached out, his hand brushing against your arm, the warmth of his touch igniting something deep within you.

“I don’t want to lose you, little one.” he said, his voice a husky whisper. “You’ve brought something into my life I never knew I needed. But it terrifies me. And I just….I will not let you go.”

You felt your breath hitch, a rush of emotions swirling within you. “Then show me, my lord.” you pleaded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Show me that I matter to you. Don’t make me feel like I’m just a convenience. I want to be more than that.”

His gaze softened, and for a fleeting moment, the god before you was just a man—a man struggling with his own demons, much like you. “I don’t know how anymore, little one.” he admitted, vulnerability lacing his words. “But I will try.”

The sincerity in his eyes pierced through the haze of your hurt and resentment. You had spent so long fighting against the current, desperately trying to find your footing in a world that seemed intent on pulling you under. But standing here, facing Sukuna, you realized that maybe—just maybe—there was a chance for something more, something real.

“I’m scared too, my lord.” you confessed, your voice trembling as the weight of your emotions threatened to crush you. “Scared that you’ll change your mind, scared that I’ll lose everything again. Or maybe you would kill me. But I can’t keep hiding from you. I cannot keep finding ways to escape you.”

The sincerity in your admission hung in the air between you, a fragile thread woven from the strands of your broken heart. Sukuna’s expression darkened as he processed your words, his usually confident demeanor faltering just slightly. He nodded slowly, his brow furrowed in contemplation. 

“I know that too well, little one.” He brushes your hair away from your face. “I know it all.”

His voice was steady, almost soothing, but the underlying tension crackled like static in the air. You took a deep breath, a sense of resolve building within you. “I want to believe you, my lord.” you said softly, each word laced with the weight of your doubt. “But you know that you are not speaking true… you lie as easily as you breathe.And I drown loving you like its law and hating you for how you taught me to love you.”

The admission feel like a heavy stone between you, and you could see the flicker of something in his eyes—perhaps regret, perhaps anger. But you didn’t back down. You needed him to hear the truth, the raw, unvarnished reality of your existence.

“It’s as if you’re a tempest.” you continued, your voice rising with the heat of your frustration. “One moment you’re this powerful force, sweeping me off my feet, promising me the world, and the next, I’m left to drown in the chaos you create. You wield your power like a weapon, and I’m the one caught in the crossfire.”

His jaw clenched, and you could see the internal struggle etched on his face. “I never meant to hurt you, little one.” he said, but the words felt hollow, echoing through the chasm of pain that separated you.

“And yet you’re the architect of my suffering.” you challenged, your heart pounding in your chest. “You brought me into your world. And all I’ve known…is misery. You say you want me by your side, but you torture me. You kill me, everyday.”

The vulnerability in your voice cut through the tension like a blade, and you saw his expression shift. There was something there—something that hinted at the turmoil he carried beneath his godlike exterior. 

“You’re not just a concubine to me.” he said, his tone softer, but the intensity of his gaze never wavered. “You mean more than you know.”

“More than what?” you spat, your anger flaring up once more. “More than a passing fancy? A moment of respite from your endless hunger for power? I am not a toy for you to play with, my lord. I’m not just a distraction from your demons, your misery. You want me to believe that I matter. You’re using me to fill the void left by Hiromi.”

The name hung in the air, heavy with the ghosts of the past, and you could see the shift in Sukuna’s expression—a flicker of pain, a crack in his facade. “You don’t understand…” he started, but you cut him off, needing to vent the storm of hurt and betrayal swirling within you.

“Understand what?” you cried, your voice breaking. “That I’m just a shadow in the light of a dead woman? That every moment I spend with you is tainted by her memory? You keep her close, a constant reminder of what I can never be. She gave you a child, love—everything I yearn for from you these past few years but can’t have. I feel like I’m drowning in your past while you expect me to be grateful for whatever scraps of affection you throw my way.”

For a heartbeat, the silence swallowed you both, the air thick with tension and unshed tears. Sukuna’s eyes bore into yours, a tempest of emotions raging beneath the surface—frustration, desire, regret. “I don’t want to lose you, little one.” he said, the words almost a whisper.

“And yet you keep pushing me away, my lord.” you shot back, your heart aching with the truth. “You think you can keep me at arm’s length, and I’ll just accept it? You can’t keep pulling me in with one hand while pushing me away with the other. I need to know that I am more than just a fleeting moment for you!”

“I’m trying!” he shouted, his voice rising, but the urgency in it didn’t mask the vulnerability. “You don’t understand the things I’ve done, the things I’m capable of! I’ve been alive for a long time, and you are the first to accept what I am. I am trying to keep you, little one. I need you.”

His raw honesty pierced through the fog of your emotions, and you felt your heart crack a little more. “Let me go, my lord.” you whispered, the weight of your own words settling heavily on your chest. “Let me be free of this burden you’ve placed on me. I want to be happy, but I can’t find that happiness in the shadow of your misery upon me.”

“I can’t.” he replied, desperation lacing his voice. “I won’t. You’re a part of me now, whether you want to be or not.”

You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks as the reality of your situation sank in. “But I’m not sure I want to be part of this… this nightmare anymore.” you said, your voice breaking. “I’m tired, my lord. Tired of fighting for a love that feels more like a battlefield than a sanctuary.”

With every word, your resolve crumbled a little more, and you felt the exhaustion wash over you like a tide. The weight of your feelings, the burden of past traumas, and the constant strain of navigating the unpredictable depths of your relationship with Sukuna were too much to bear. You wanted to be strong, to stand your ground and fight for something better, but fatigue was clawing at the edges of your consciousness.

You could see the struggle reflected in his eyes—an intense mixture of determination and sorrow. But even in the heat of your argument, you sensed that his heart was also heavy with burdens he carried alone. You took a shaky breath, desperate for release from this tumultuous cycle of emotions.

As the exhaustion settled deeper into your bones, you felt your eyelids growing heavy, the fight within you slowly extinguishing. “I just—” you started, but the words faded as you succumbed to the comforting darkness that beckoned you.

“Just rest.” Sukuna murmured, his voice a soothing balm against the chaos of your thoughts. “You need to let go for a moment. I’ll be here when you wake.”

His voice wrapped around you like a cocoon, and despite the turmoil of your heart, you found solace in his presence. With one last shuddering breath, you finally surrendered to the pull of sleep, the weight of your burdens slipping away as your consciousness faded into the comforting embrace of oblivion.

In the morning, you know that nothing will change.

In the morning, you will still be miserable with him.

In the morning, you’ll love him like he is the law.

In the morning, you’ll worship him as religion taught.

In the morning, you’ll never be able to be free from him.

[tritoch]

i have seen people be like "if you think what the dawntrail protagonists do in zone six is valid you have to conceded emet's approach/perspective was valid, what you do is basically what he does" and it's like...nah. it's obviously intentionally very similar ("it's like poetry, it rhymes") but there's some key differences:

emet is disgusted by sundered life, which he sees as inhuman, and longs to return to the unrecoverable past. so he does seven(ish) planet-wide genocides. the endless aren't new life, their ability to grow and learn is specifically in question (at the very least they are fundamentally incapable of taking in new sensory experience of certain forms), they're shades from the unrecoverable past, and you are destroying them in favor of those still alive.

also, we aren't disgusted by them nor do we think anything is fundamentally justified if done to them (everyone pretty much no-sells cahciua "we aren't alive so it doesn't matter if you kill us :)," in fact). we don't have like 12,000 years and the most advanced magic known to anyone alive. we are forced by serious exigency to destroy them due to a political impasse with their leadership's policy re: resource extraction. this tonal difference is in fact extremely important.

the endless themselves seem pretty ambivalent about the whole deal. they're bored or they're wary of the way their world keeps shrinking, and it's very explicitly neither a functioning society by any recognizable human terms nor a paradise.

related to the above, basically every named endless turns to the person most relevant to them (cahciua to erenville, krile's parents to her, namikka to wuk lamat, otis to you) and is like, huh, i really appreciate having this moment of grace at the end of my journey to see that it was all worthwhile and to resolve my lasting regrets, but i understand what you're here to do and yeah, it's probably time for us to go. (does the writing put a finger on the scale by doing this? sure, but the writers also designed and built the scales and everything they're weighing on them, so i find it hard to discredit any one aspect for being the writers' invention.)

finally uh no one in the party has kids with the endless or lives a full human lifetime as one of them lol.

it's important to remember that emet was definitely at least somewhat lying about not seeing the sundered as real people. the fact that he has "lived a thousand thousand of your lives . . . broken bread with you, fought with you, grown ill, grown old, sired children and yes, welcomed death’s sweet embrace" makes everything he did soooooo much crazier than what you do. if i managed to convince an endless to fall in love with me and i had a kid with them and i loved that kid so much that their death threw me into a permanent grief spiral then like. yeah i guess i would have to be like "well hats off to emet, folks." but luckily the game doesn't make you do that.

even if you insist everyone in living memory was a full living person that we killed, you're still weighing like a city of people versus 7+ planet-wide mass murders. you do not under any circumstances got to hand it to him.

living memory absolutely is evocative of everything that happens in shadowbringers. but rather than placing us in emet's shoes, it forces us to relive what we already did, to really fully face up to what we have done by promising to remember emet's culture after destroying any chance of its return. after two games going hard on the hope part of the game's central theme of hope arising from grief, now we're doing grief. we are forced to see the past of our memories not as a cold, ghostly art deco cubus-plagued socratic method hellscape but as the most beautiful technicolor theme park where everyone's happy and no one's sad and there's parades every day and your parents are alive and they love you so much. and then the game's conclusion is, yeah, you were still right to let go. in fact, you were and are morally obliged to let go. the living were and are worth more than the dead. our grief in letting go of them may be immense and turns our world to bleak nothingness for a time, and that is important to recognize, but at the end of the day our most pressing duty is to those we can yet save, not those we have lost.

[scientia-rex]

Hey. HEY. We aren’t good at understanding how bodies work. I spent five years in undergrad (I was indecisive; graduated with six years’ worth of credits), two in my terminal master’s program, four in med school, and three more in residency. I know a whole lot about how bodies work. I am qualified to tell you that we don’t know a lot more than we do know.

This means that, when you encounter a claim, you need to weigh it against what you have experienced.

I have met doctors who were sure fibromyalgia, or “muscle hurty disease,” from the roots of the word, was just women being crazy. Turns out it’s probably at least partly due to autoimmune dysfunction. Or maybe not! Sure would be nice if we knew! But I sure as shit know it’s real, because I have it and so do the women in my family. Our bodies don’t work right, somehow. They don’t work like other people’s bodies work. I experience more pain than I “should” based on what stimuli other people find painful. I have less ability to build and maintain muscle strength. This has not kept me from doing what I love most in the world, which is have opinions, to the point where I went through the horrifically awful process that is medical training in the US just so I could have opinions all day long and get paid for it. I gain nothing from saying I have it, and in fact risk the opinions of my professional peers if I do admit to it, since it is still seen as a disease of mental or moral weakness. I’m perfectly qualified to self-diagnose, as a board-certified family physician.

And yet I believed people in positions of authority for a long, long time who said it was a mental illness and not a bodily one. As if those even can be distinct, when our brains are part of our bodies and our experience of reality is filtered through their circuitry. But I believed that I was somehow to blame for being in pain.

Life has been better since I accepted that I just need to do some things differently. If I lift weights, I need to use machines, I need to start on the lowest possible setting, and I need to increase very gradually. If I do cardio, I need a low-impact model like an elliptical trainer; running outside, every time I have tried it in my life, results in incapacitating shin splints, even if I try to work up slowly. I no longer buy laundry bins that don’t roll. My home is all on one level. I go to physical therapy. I stash freezer dinners that contain (shudder) vegetables, my least favorite thing, so that when I do feel like shit, I have an alternative to starving (or eating a block of cheese that upsets my stomach).

Accommodate yourself. This society isn’t going to help much, if at all. In your good times and days, be the person whose help you’ll need in your worst days.

[cydork]

Alien Questionnaire - A Biological Perspective

A while ago, somebody linked me a very comprehensive worldbuilding questionnaire. For most aspects of a fictional society, it was great, but I noticed it assumed that anyone using it was making up a fictional human society, or at least a society of beings very similar to humans. As such, there was almost nothing in the biology department, which to me is one of the best parts! Thus, this questionnaire was born.

These questions are designed to help people worldbuild from a biological foundation. As such, the questionnaire only touches lightly on other aspects of a fictional society, and is more of a jumping off point. I wrote it with the aim of using it to develop aliens, but it should be suitable for any project with non-humanoid species, such as sapient terrestrial animals.

Have fun! I'd love to see your answers :)

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General Anatomy How many limbs do they have? Do they have limbs at all?

What are their primary manipulators? Where are they located? How does this affect their tool use, building ability, etc?

What kind of body covering do they have, e.g. hair, scales, feathers? How do they clean it? Do they shed this covering constantly, or all at once at certain times? 

Can they maintain a constant body temperature? If not, how do they deal with changing environmental temperatures? 

What kind of habitat do they live in? Both specific habitat, and broader such as on land vs in water.

What adaptations do they have for living in this habitat?

What kind of creature did they evolve from?

What are the similarities and differences to their closest living relatives? 

What resource(s) is the most necessary and urgent for them? E.g. for many animals, but not all, it’s water.

What are some common mutations? E.g. eye colours, ability to digest lactose in humans.

What injuries or illnesses are considered disabling? 

How is their healing ability? Can they regenerate? If they can, is that limited to certain body parts or a certain number of times?

Senses What senses do they have? E.g. sight, smell, electroreception, etc.

How good are those senses?

Which of their sense/s do they use the most in everyday life?

How might this choice of sense impact the way they interact with the world? 

Can they detect things that Earth creatures cannot? If yes, how and why?

Movement  How do they move? Do they walk, crawl, fly, etc? 

If they have multiple modes of movement, which is preferred, and why?

Which part/s of their body do they use to move?

What is their speed and endurance like? 

How agile are they? 

Do they rely mainly on their own bodies for travel, or do they use pack animals and machines? 

How often do they move around? Are they mainly sedentary, do they move a lot within a set area, do they migrate, etc?

Do they have different levels of mobility depending on age, sex, or other biological group? E.g. young barnacles are able to swim, while adults are anchored permanently to a surface. 

Reproduction and Lifecycle  How many sexes are there? 

Are there differences between the sexes (ignoring the reproductive system)? 

Are there different castes, such as in honeybees or naked mole rats? If so, what is the function of each caste? 

Are differences in sex or caste used to justify discrimination or hierarchy? How might these ideas differ in different populations? 

Do they have a concept of gender? If so, is gender affected by sex, caste, or some other factor?

How do they attract a mate? Do they release a chemical into the air, do an elaborate display, etc?

Does one individual try to actively woo another, or is courtship more mutual?

What do they find attractive in members of the same species?

What is the usual reproductive partnership? E.g. two individuals, one main reproducing individual with a harem, no set partner, etc. 

How long do they live?

How are young brought into the world? Live birth, eggs, spores, etc?

Is producing young a painful, dangerous process, or is it easy?

How much parental investment is there? Are there many young with little investment, or few young with a lot of investment (r vs K strategy)? Or is it somewhere in the middle? 

How many offspring are produced at a time? Think about how attitudes towards children may differ between a species that produces one or two, and a species that produces dozens or even hundreds at a time.

How do they grow? Are they born looking like miniature adults, gradually growing bigger? Do they have specific phases of high growth, like puberty? Do they have a larval phase, metamorphosis? 

How self-sufficient are they as young? Can they move around and feed themselves as soon as they are born? Do they require parental care? 

What is the usual structure of childcare? Single or multiple parents/related individuals? Communally raised? 

Is sex purely for reproduction, or does it serve other purposes?

What kind of sexuality is considered the norm? This doesn’t just refer to same/other sex pairings, but the culture around sex in general.

Diet and Foodchain What is their diet? Are they carnivores, omnivores, frugivores, insectivores, etc?

Do they feed off an unusual source, for example rocks, metals, or (in appropriate settings) something like magic or souls?

What physical adaptations do they have for this diet? 

Is their diet very restricted, or can they have a wide range of foods?

How often do they eat? What is the culture around mealtimes, if any?

Are they prey for other organisms? For each other?

If they are, how do they deal with it? Do they fight back, have barriers, or do they accept it as a part of life?

If they are hunters themselves, what is their attitude to killing other organisms? Are they respectful? Prideful of their kill? Is it completely trivial? 

If they are hunters, how do they hunt? Are they solitary or packhunters? Are certain members of the group designated to hunt? 

Are the results of foraging or hunting shared, or is it everyone for themself?

Are they parasitic, parasitised, or in a symbiotic relationship with any other organisms? 

Body Rhythms How often do they sleep?

What time of the day are they most active? Are they nocturnal, diurnal, crepuscular? 

Do they generally sleep for one long period a day, multiple shorter periods throughout, or something in between? 

Do they sleep to cope with extreme temperatures or bad conditions, i.e. hibernate or aestivate?

Do they have any biological processes that disrupt their life e.g. moulting, reproductive cycles, etc?

If yes, how does their society accommodate for these processes? Does it accommodate them at all? 

Communication What is their main method of communication? Sound, visuals, scent, etc? Think about their main sense and how this would affect communication.

What is their body language like? What small moving parts might aid their body language?

If they have multiple methods of communication, are they all given equal weight, or is one considered higher than others? 

Society How sociable are they? 

If social, what is the usual social structure? 

Are there hierarchies? How strict or relaxed are the roles?

How are disputes usually settled? Is it more common to be violent or appease the other party? 

If not social, what is the reaction to being with other individuals? Do they become aggressive or stressed? Do they tolerate each other? 

What is the usual size of a community? Do they have communities at all? 

Do they have an in-group vs out-group mentality? If so, how strong is it? This generally relates to how scarce or plentiful resources were during their evolution, and how territorial their ancestors were.

What kind of bonds do they form? 

On the spectrum of individualistic to community-oriented, where do they fall?

Do they have a strong sense of personal identity? Think about how this might tie in with the previous question. 

What are the main things they derive identity from? Occupation, gender, family ties, etc?

Do they have names? If yes, how are these names formed? Are they given by another party or chosen by the individual?

Have they domesticated any creatures? If so, what do they use these creatures for?

Do they have any unusual relationships with other creatures on their planet (beyond predation, parasitism or mutualism)?

Do they produce art? What are their main forms of artistic expression? Think about how this will be linked to their main sense(s), communication method, and/or primary manipulators.

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

GLOSSARY Primary manipulator: Main body part used to manipulate objects, e.g. hands in humans, trunks in elephants, feet in parrots.

Sedentary: Inactive, staying in the same place.

Caste (reproductive): A group within a species with differences in body type and reproductive ability.

Symbiosis/Mutualism: Interactions where both parties benefit, e.g. cleaner fish getting a meal in exchange for picking irritating parasites off larger fish.

Aestivate: To become inactive during hot or dry periods, usually involving being sealed in mucus or soil e.g. lungfish, snails. 

Reproductive cycle: Regular hormone fluctuations that affect an animal’s fertility or attitude towards breeding. The cycles can range from months to years and can include things such as antler growth in male deer, heat cycles, and menstruation in humans.

[piastappies]

˗ˏ` THEODORE NOTT HEADCANONS! ´ˎ˗

NATIONALITY. i truly believe that this man is half polish from his mother’s side and half scottish from his father’s side.

his maternal side of the family settled in northern scotland during the world war two to escape the german occupation. at first it was supposed to be temporary — to stay there until the war ends, but they settled down in the outskirts of inverness, though they never forgot about their heritage, speaking their native language, remembering the history and making sure that their descendants wouldn’t forget about their family’s past.

his mother would continue the tradition, speaking to her only son in her family’s mother tongue. due to the lack of conversation with his father, he barely spoke any english, when he first got to hogwarts, he understood lots of what was said to him, but communicating back was troubling for him at first.

back when his mother was still alive, she would take him to poland, to show him their family’s hometown. after she passed away due to suicide, combined with her progressing schizophrenia around his tenth birthday, he hasn’t returned to his mother’s country until post-war.

FRIENDS. he didn’t have too many friends at first nor wanted to make any in the first place. the first person he spoke to was daphne greengrass.

his poor english with a rough accent, mixed of polish and scottish, made it hard for him to be understood by his peers in the train, making theo seem as an arrogant and egocentric twelve-years old boy, who thought he was better than the others that approached him. theo felt alienated, but couldn’t speak his mind, because his peers would make fun of the way he speaks.

back in the first term of first year, his roommates weren’t speaking to him. thanks to daphne, who let him took his time to figure out what he wanted to say, he met his gang and switched dorms with one of them, which resulted in sharing a room with mattheo and lorenzo.

even though he had a small group of friends, his closest were daphne and mattheo. the alienation he felt earlier was lifted off his shoulders, knowing that there were still people that would be there for him. ever since his mom died, he felt like his world was shattered into pieces, the feeling only intensifying, when his father forbid him from seeing the side of the family he grew up with, the good side that let him be a boy.

his friendship with daphne was strong throughout years as she often invited him to the countryside, where her family’s mansion was, often disappearing into thin air at the crack of dawn till the late evening, wandering around the streets of a muggle towns nearby her house, causing troubles with the rest of their friends.

PERSONALITY.

it wasn’t a surprise for anyone that learnt about his background that despite coming off as an extrovert, theodore was really quiet and perceptive guy, who kept lots of things to himself. not a lot of people knew about his mom’s life and the way it ended as his father made sure that everyone thought she died of an unspecified illness.

seeing his mom’s schizophrenia progressing in his early years, leading to her suicide had taken a toll on him. he believed that it was his father’s fault for everything bad that happened to the person he loved the most as he tried isolating her from her family, and when that didn’t work out the way he wanted, abusing her mentally and physically. after her passing, the abuse continued, this time, theodore was at the end of the stick. his father’s behaviour making theo distrustful and hostile towards male figures in his life, especially authorities.

despite his quietness, lots of girls at school were falling in front of him to get at least an ounce of his attention for themselves. it might be the brooding state he’s often is in. he, as well as his friends, is often the subject of interest of people in his year and below. usually, he attends the parties in the common rooms to keep up with his reputation.

theo’s really indifferent towards things that don’t matter much to him, like said reputation, or for example his grades. though, he doesn’t care about his academics as much as he does about quidditch, he’s exceptionally intelligent and talented, picking up things in a speed of light. he’s not one to refuse helping others (=his friends) and he often tutors mattheo before exams to make sure they both pass the year.

he gets angry, whenever someone compares him to his father, what happens when someone hears his last name. during this time or immediately after, he can get outbursts of anger and needs a smoke (preferably a joint) to numb his mind. if he doesn’t have anything on him, which rarely happens, then if you’re in a line of fire, a visit to hospital wing is the only way out.

whenever he comes back to school from the christmas break, his panic attacks are more frequent, usually accompanied by the image of his dead mom. the panic attack that he would never forget was during his third year, when his boggart showed him his mom’s lifeless body, triggering something inside him.

MISCELLANEOUS.

theo’s super tall, making him stand out from the crowd. when he was measured by miss pomfrey in year five, she told him that he’s around six foot five. he used to be a short kid, but once he started growing, he couldn’t stop — stretch marks on his stomach has fainted over the years.

he doesn’t like mixed alcohol. as a teenager with polish genes, theodore doesn’t mix his alcohol with any juice or soda to make the bitterness go away faster. when he drinks, he does it neat, no matter the type. whether he drinks tequilla, vodka, whiskey or wine, he never adds anything. and when he does want to make the taste go away faster, he eats pickled cucumbers.

has bad anxiety. as i said earlier, theo’s bad anxiety and with each year passing, it only gets worse. his panic attacks are more frequent and it often goes in a pair with any contact from his father.

music taste. the music he listens to is dependent on his mood. whenever he’s alone in his dorm, he blasts polish songs and bands, especially dżem, because it was his mom’s favorite rock-blues band. he’s also a big fan of the smiths and simple minds.

blood status. he doesn’t care about any of it, mostly because that’s what his mom taught him — blood status doesn’t define a person, their actions do. even if she didn’t, he would probably still pretty much indifferent to the blood status of people around him, just to do the opposite of what his father wants.

substances. he’s go to substance is weed. he doesn’t smoke as much as people think, he likes to smoke a joint on a chilly summer morning or after a stressful day. he definitely drinks much more, but not to the point, when he can’t live without it. it’s not a secret that once in a while, he pops mdma at parties.

AS A BOYFRIEND. or more specific, your boyfriend.

possessive. as much as he doesn’t like admitting it, he doesn’t like sharing too much. he’s an only child, who grew up alone most of the time, so sharing never came easy to him. he tries to fight it though, knowing that being super possessive isn’t something healthy. he knows how to read people, so when there’s a guy hanging around you, who’s clearly interested in you, he makes sure to be somewhere around you to shift your focus from the annoying prick to him, while still being gentle with you. he wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to his side to leave a kiss on the top of your head, before glaring expectantly at the boy.

communicative. being able to communicate his feelings and thoughts with others weren’t a bother to theodore, he hardly ever spoke to anyone about his troubles, bottling everything up until it popped. but when it comes to you? this guy makes sure that you know he has nothing to hide from you. he’s upset? you’re the one he talks to. he’s angry? you’re the only one able to calm him down. he wants you to know that you’re the one he cares about the most.

protective. this guy loves you to bits and loves everything you do, so when you show him the outfit you plan on wearing, he doesn’t comment on it in any way that could come off as negative, not that he wants to but forces himself to shut up, no, theodore couldn’t even think of something else to say that comolimenting the way you look or telling you all the things he’d love to, and will do to you later. back, when the two of you started dating and you went out somewhere, he always repeated the same thing, wear whatever you want, baby, i can fight. and he definitely would fight for you if you ever asked (what probably will never happen, because no matter how hot he looks sometimes, you hate seeing him hurt). or fight anyone, who does as much as look at you funny, and knowing his friends? they wouldn’t pull him away from the fight, no, they would jump right in to help him.

love language. his love language is acts of service and physical touch. his hands always have to be somewhere on your body, whether it’s his arm slung around your shoulders or wrapped around your waist, his hand on your hip, thigh, his thigh touching yours. it’s not only that he likes to touch you, but he hates when you’re next to him, but not close enough to calm his mind that he might lose you. also, theodore is not the best with words, so he won’t write you a few pages long letter, but what he will do is remember small details of what you tell him, like your favorite brands of sweets, crisps, your favorite flavor of cakes or cookies to always have at least one of those in his bag. he’s the guy who would drive from inverness to the south of england if you ever needed him. you’re sick? one message and theo’s there to take care of you. you like a book, but have no one to talk to about it? he’s gonna read the book just to hear you ramble.

[certifiablyinsanez]

Mammon is great ace representation: an essay on aphobia in the Hellaverse fandom

I’m seeing a lot of people be mad about Mammon having a thing for Leviathan. And I’m going to need the fandom to step back and examine these issues, because they are 100% rooted in aphobia. I have been out as an oriented aroace person for over 10 years if you want to doubt my credentials, rather than listen to my analysis, lived experience and reflect.

So. Tell me Hellaverse fandom; why, when it comes to Alastor, who is a character who very clearly has zero interest in others, it is always a chorus of people saying “aces can have sex”, “aces can enjoy sex”, “it’s not harmful to the ace community to use Alastor for shipping material, he isn’t real and asexuality and aromanticism is a huge spectrum”, “Aroace people can still date and have sex”?

But when it comes to Mammon, he is “bad asexual representation”, he “clearly experiences sexual attraction”, “he can’t be demisexual”, etc.

No genuinely, why is this? I want you to examine this, think on it from a place of neutral examination and come to your own conclusions. Because this is a worrisome double standard. This can for starters, be an instance of fat phobia. Because out of the two of them, Alastor is thin, and therefore closer to the beauty standard, which is hysterical considering that Alastor canonically has horrible hygiene, and I don’t think I know a single person who thinks that stank ass body and breath is attractive. Mammon, as seen from the slovenly way he eats, can potentially be assumed to have poor hygiene as well, but it has a very different connotation because of his weight. [Research the connection between thin privilege and body odor/hygiene. It’s very real].

I can spend a lot of time and energy going into the shipping dynamics between the shows, as well as how Alastor is a more “shippable” character in comparison to Mammon, but I honestly don’t find this as interesting or as compelling as to what I’m about to say next.

Because aphobia in the real world is still very alive and well today. In my 10+ years of being in the ace community, I have genuinely spent a lot of emotional energy, time, knowledge, experience, and compassion, just fighting for the right to even be acknowledged as queer. I have vivid memories from when I was first out of the closet at the age of 16, telling ace people across apps and forums that they were valid, that they weren’t broken, that they were deserving of love, respect, and a place in the queer community. I was telling people, younger, my age, and older that they shouldn’t kill themselves, that they had worth beyond what they could do in the bedroom for others. I had to convince people that they didn’t owe anyone sex, and that they were in fact being sexually abused by their partners. I was on the phone with people in tears. I spent HOURS of my life in these DMs at an age where I was a suffering, mentally ill queer child that was also being victimized by aphobia. Still to this day people think the “A” stands for ally. And still to this day people have discord about our community as a whole. I have had to sit and watch as people went from loudly proclaiming with their whole chest that asexual people didn’t exist, or at the very least weren’t queer. Then years went by and it became less and less okay to say things like that, because asexual people finally had fought long enough and had supported each other enough that we discovered our voices and began to use them. So people were finally facing the consequences of saying bigoted shit.

And now that they can’t say that asexuals aren’t queer, they moved on to another group. Demisexuals. Demisexuals by far have it roughest, because while there are many micro labels in our community to explain our diverse range of experiences, demisexual is probably the most well known one. And every handful of months or so I have to use my voice once again to stand up for my people, because an attack on one of us is an attack on all of us, and people on the internet have made it clear that they have no qualms of attacking us. The asexual and aromantic community have made extremely valuable contributions to the queer community that are entirely overlooked because we are not valued in it.

And this is why I have been an outspoken proponent of my displeasure over Alastor being a character that is the most shipped with others, and my disdain for the fanbase has grown even wider after Mammons appearance in Mastermind. It is a painful reminder of all the discrimination I’ve faced over the years, that my community still goes through. Because people are contrarians. Alastor is canonically asexual, and other aspects of his character are reflective of aromanticism as well. Well, the fanbase doesn’t like this so much. If you genuinely pay attention, you’ll notice this is a trend with a lot of other aroace characters. My favorite example is Peridot from Steven Universe, a canonical aroace character. In the show, Peridot goes through a lot of unlearning and growth. The scene where she tries to fuse with Garnet has massive implications for a few reasons. Because one, she is genuine in her desire to understand Garnet, and fusion better. And two, fusion while forbidden on Homeworld, is commonplace and normal in the Crystal Gems. As a Crystal Gem, she feels this is what is now expected of her. This is a major experience in the aspec community, as living in a cis heteronormative society means that sex, marriage and children are all things expected of each individual, which is dangerous and harmful ideology to everyone, asexual/aromantic people as well. Peridot couldn’t go through with the fusion, but that didn’t stop the fandom salivating, and foaming at the mouth over a potential Lapis/Peridot fusion. People were genuinely mad at Rebecca Sugar for never making that pairing canon, when they had absolutely no right to behave the way they did. Let’s not forget how the fans also misgendered Rebecca Sugar constantly. It was absolutely bigoted.

This is happening with Alastor. Fans feel entitled to ship him with whomever, an entitlement that is not seen with other characters. When people ship Vaggie with Angel, there is backlash, and for good reason. Because people understand that despite the fact that Vivienne Medrano said people can ship whatever, shipping a gay man with a woman and a gay woman with a man is…gross. It is wrong, it is disrespectful of their identities, and is forcing heteronormativity onto characters that are strict in their sexualities. Most people are able to recognize the thinly veiled homophobia. But Alastor does not receive the same treatment, and in fact receives the opposite treatment. I don’t know what I could say to convince you that the aroace coded character in a show being the #1 most shipped is thinly veiled aphobia the same way Vaggie x Angel is thinly veiled homophobia.

Now what does that have to do with Mammon? Mammon seems to not be aroace coded like Alastor, and for some reason, that has thoroughly pissed people off. Because Mammon is not the “acceptable” caricature of an asexual person. Most allosexual (non-asexual and/or aromantic people) view being asexual as being synonymous with being aromantic, which shows a painful lack of understanding and at times respect for the diversity of our community. Alastor fits this category, so he’s an “acceptable asexual”, while also essentially being a toy for shippers. But Mammon, with his clear attraction to Leviathan, is a “bastardization” of the asexual image. When we aren’t being viewed as broken, we’re often being viewed as chaste, virginal, and innocent with attachments to infantilization. But Mammon, with his aggressive and even icky approach to flirting with Leviathan, is seen as a subversion of this, which for people who don’t understand our community, hate. And these people are blaming Vivienne for having “terrible ace rep” when in actuality, having multiple ace characters having very little in common is actually fantastic rep. Because there are many labels in our community that Mammon can fit into as an asexual. To me, he looks like a sex-positive, high libido, demisexual. He’s known Leviathan for thousands of years, of course it makes sense that he would be into her, but not into anyone else which would explain why his “posse” are just female robots. This could also be because of his classism, but I genuinely think that he’s just demisexual. And you already know how people feel about demisexuals.

If you’ve read this far and have genuinely set aside your biases and personal feelings like I requested in the beginning, I appreciate that. Because from my own lived experience, the double standard between Alastor and Mammon doesn’t annoy me; it frightens me.

Because what the fandom is actually saying when they do these things is this:

“We see you as a homogenous group. Your voices go in one ear and out the other. If you don’t conform to our values and standards, we won’t give you the respect or recognition you deserve. If you don’t conform to my view of your group, you lose my “allyship”. We do not see your identity as a sexuality in its own right, but rather a literary device we can play with. I do not care to learn more about your community, your culture, or your struggles. I barely (if at all) acknowledge you as your own sexual minority and marginalized group. I barely acknowledge (if at all) that you are queer at all. I do not care about your feelings about societal biases that I might carry, I don’t care about how you’ve lived it, because it takes away my fun and fantasies. Because I devalue your group as a whole, your voices mean little. Your narrative is mine to do with as I please.”

I really hope you can see my perspective and understand the sincere place this comes from. Thanks for reading.