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writingsoftarnishedsilver · 1 day ago

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okay not that he needs it but what a ego boost it would be if sebastian stumbled upon mc and ominis talking about the guy she likes and she just like he's so out of my league listing positive traits (cue sebastian getting very jealous) Only for ominis to be like just tell sebastian then I don't have to hear you wine about it all the timee

Eavesdropping | Sebastian Sallow x Reader

Thank you for the request Anon! I hope you love it!!! :")

Words: ~4,600

Tags: Love Confessions, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House

The stone door of the Undercroft groaned softly as Sebastian pushed it open, stepping carefully inside. He exhaled softly, his shoulders relaxing for the first time all day. He had snuck out after curfew, hoping to release some pent-up frustration with a few dueling spells.

He was halfway down the stairs when he froze. Voices—two of them—floated up from below.

Sebastian frowned, his grip tightening on the banister. He recognized them instantly. You and Ominis.

What were you doing here so late? He edged closer, careful to stay out of sight.

“I just don’t see the point,” your voice echoed softly. “It’s not like anything’s ever going to happen.”

Sebastian froze mid-step, his grip tightening on the banister. His brow furrowed. What wasn’t going to happen?

“It won’t if you keep dragging your feet,” Ominis replied, his tone dry as ever.

“It’s not that simple,” you shot back warily.

Sebastian tilted his head, curiosity sparking to life alongside a strange, uneasy feeling in his chest. You sounded frustrated—almost pained. What could possibly have you so worked up?

“It is that simple. You’ve been in love with him for years,” Ominis said, his tone cutting. “Merlin, I’ve lost track of how many times we’ve had this conversation. Either do something about it, or stop talking about it.”

Sebastian’s heart stopped. In love? You’d never mentioned anyone. Not once.

“There's nothing I can do, Ominis,” you said, exasperated. “He doesn’t see me like that.”

Sebastian’s stomach twisted painfully. Who was this mysterious he? Why hadn’t you told him about this before? You usually told him everything.

“And how would you know?” Ominis challenged.

“Because I know him,” you replied firmly. “We’re best friends!”

Sebastian’s chest tightened, a painful mix of jealousy and confusion swirling inside him. Best friends? You were his best friend. Who could possibly come before him in your life?

“Right,” Ominis said sarcastically. “Because you’re so unremarkable.”

“Ominis,” you groaned, “I’m serious.”

“So am I,” he shot back. “Half the school is in love with you, and you’re acting like you’re some invisible wallflower.”

Sebastian’s jaw tightened. Ominis wasn’t wrong. People were drawn to you—how could they not be? But you’d never seemed to notice, much less care. And now you were sitting here, pouring your heart out about someone who clearly wasn’t him.

You sighed, the sound heavy with frustration and tinged with a hint of defeat. “It doesn’t matter what the rest of the school thinks when he’s completely out of my league, Ominis. With his stupidly handsome face and that ridiculous smile that makes it impossible to think straight…” You trailed off, shaking your head. “Merlin, he’s just… he’s everything. Funny, clever, brave, loyal—he could have anyone he wanted.”

For a moment, it felt like the ground had been ripped out from under Sebastian’s feet. How could you possibly think that? How could you believe, even for a second, that you weren’t good enough for whoever this bloke was? And the worst part—the part that made his chest ache—was that he couldn’t step in. He couldn’t tell you how wrong you were because he wasn’t supposed to be listening this in the first place.

“And?” Ominis prompted.

“And what?” you asked, your voice quieter now.

“You’re always going on about how wonderful he is, which, I’ll admit, I struggle to agree with,” Ominis said with a dry chuckle. “But you never actually tell me how he makes you feel. Isn’t that the important part? Does it matter how... how handsome and funny he is if he doesn't make you feel something special?”

You hesitated, your voice soft and uncertain when you finally spoke. “He… I don’t know. He makes me feel safe, Ominis. Like no matter what’s going on, as long as he’s there, I’ll be okay. And he makes me feel seen. Really seen. Like I don’t have to be the ‘hero of Hogwarts’ or ‘the girl with ancient magic.’ I don’t have to be anything except… me. He knows me in a way nobody else does. And when I’m with him, it’s like—for once—I don’t have to prove anything.”

Sebastian’s chest tightened again, but this time it wasn’t just jealousy—it was something deeper, more painful. Because that’s how he felt about you. You were his safe place, the one person who saw him as more than the brash, reckless troublemaker everyone else thought he was.

And now… now he was realizing that someone else held that place for you.

Ominis huffed a laugh, breaking the silence that followed your confession. “You know, it’s almost tragic.”

You glanced at him, confused. “What’s tragic?”

“That it’s him you’ve fallen for,” Ominis said, his voice laced with dry amusement. “Of all the people in Hogwarts—all the people who would gladly worship the ground you walk on—you’ve managed to lose your head over the most chaotic, reckless, insufferable person I know.”

Your jaw dropped, and a laugh bubbled out of you despite your embarrassment. “Ominis!”

“I’m serious,” he said, smirking. “You could have anyone. Anyone. And yet you’ve decided to pine after someone who probably doesn’t even realize you feel this way because he’s too busy rushing headlong into whatever absurd plan pops into his head.”

You groaned again, shaking your head. “You don’t have to rub it in.”

“Well, I do,” he replied, grinning. “Because clearly, he’s too thick to notice, and you’re too stubborn to tell him. I’m the one stuck in the middle of this ridiculous mess, forced to play mediator while you both dance around each other like idiots.”

Sebastian felt like his chest was going to collapse. The way Ominis spoke so casually about this guy—teasing, almost affectionate—was like a knife twisting deeper into his gut. Whoever you were in love with wasn’t just close to you. They were close to Ominis, too.

Who the hell is it?

Sebastian's mind raced through the possibilities, his thoughts a chaotic mess of jealousy and dread. It had to be someone you spent a lot of time with, someone you trusted enough to feel safe around, someone who was close enough to Ominis that he could make jokes about their recklessness.

And then it clicked.

Garreth Weasley.

Sebastian’s stomach dropped. Of course it was Garreth. It made perfect sense.

Garreth was charming, clever, and funny. He had that easygoing, confident smile that always seemed to draw people in. He was loyal, too—always ready to back up his friends, even if it meant landing himself in trouble. And he had that playful, carefree energy that made everyone want to be around him.

Sebastian felt sick.

Of course she loves Garreth. Why wouldn’t she?

He thought back to all the times he’d seen the two of you together—laughing in the Great Hall, chatting during potions class, exchanging those little looks that he’d tried to tell himself didn’t mean anything.

But they did mean something, didn’t they?

And then there was Ominis. Ominis liked Garreth well enough, didn’t he? He put up with Garreth’s antics, even joined in on the occasional joke. If you were in love with Garreth, it explained why Ominis was teasing you so mercilessly.

It all fit together too perfectly.

Sebastian gritted his teeth. He wanted to hate Garreth—wanted to hate him for being everything Sebastian wasn’t, for being the kind of person you could fall for so easily.

But he couldn’t hate Garreth. Not really. It wasn’t Garreth’s fault that he was so damn likable. It wasn’t Garreth’s fault that Sebastian had been too much of a coward to tell you how he felt.

He pressed his back against the cold stone wall, closing his eyes and letting out a slow, shaky breath.

I’ve lost her, he thought bitterly. I never even had her, and I’ve already lost her.

“It’s not like I have a choice, Ominis,” you continued on, your voice quieter now, tinged with frustration and something far more raw. “If I could stop loving him, don’t you think I would have by now? Believe me, I’ve tried,” you continued, your voice breaking slightly. “I’ve tried everything. I’ve told myself it’s just a stupid crush, that it doesn’t matter, but it does. And no matter what I do, I can’t… I can’t make it go away.”

“Then why don’t you tell him?” Ominis asked, his tone softer now, almost coaxing. “What are you so afraid of?”

You groaned, the sound laden with frustration. “Because it doesn’t matter! He doesn’t like me back, Ominis. I’d destroy our friendship for nothing!”

Sebastian’s heart clenched painfully, the bitter sting of your self-doubt twisting something deep inside him. How could you think so little of yourself? How could you not see what he saw when he looked at you?

Ominis let out an exasperated sigh. “I don’t think he deserves you,” he muttered. “Merlin knows he’s well aware he doesn’t deserve you. But you can’t decide his feelings for him. That’s not how it works.”

You scoffed. “Your point?”

“I’m just saying,” Ominis replied, his tone exasperated, “that you’re doing both of you a disservice. It’s… it’s getting to the point where something has to give. Either you tell him how you feel, or—”

“Or what?” you interrupted, glaring at him.

“Or I will,” Ominis said firmly, his expression unyielding.

You gasped. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would,” Ominis said, his smirk returning. “I’m tired of watching you both suffer in silence. Merlin knows Sebastian’s too dense to work it out on his own. Maybe hearing it outright will knock some sense into him.”

Sebastian’s heart stopped.

It’s me.

The thought hit Sebastian like a stunning spell, freezing him in place as the pieces of the conversation finally fell into place. Every word, every hint, every exasperated sigh from Ominis—it all pointed to the same answer, one that he’d been too blind, too self-critical, to see.

You were talking about him.

You were in love with him.

His breath hitched, and his grip on the banister tightened as his heart pounded so loudly he was certain you and Ominis would hear it. The jealousy, the doubt, the sharp ache in his chest—all of it melted away, replaced by a dizzying mix of disbelief, relief, and something far brighter: hope. Because you loved him.

“I mean it,” Ominis was saying now, his tone both firm and teasing. “If you won’t tell him, I will. Frankly, I’m tired of sitting through these endless heart-to-hearts when the solution is so obvious.”

You groaned, your frustration evident. “Ominis, I swear—”

“Do it, or I’ll make it the most public confession Hogwarts has ever seen,” Ominis threatened, though the smirk on his face made it clear he was only half-serious.

Sebastian couldn’t stay silent any longer. His feet moved before his mind caught up, carrying him down the remaining steps until he was standing in the open, his gaze fixed on you.

“Ominis won’t have to say a word,” he said, his voice steady despite the storm of emotions churning inside him.

You and Ominis both turned toward him, your expression contorting into shock while Ominis grinned.

“Sebastian,” you breathed, your eyes wide.

Ominis crossed his arms, looking entirely too smug. “Ah, there you are."

Sebastian ignored him, his focus entirely on you. “Is it true?” he asked, his voice softer now, almost hesitant. “Everything you just said… is it true?”

Your mouth opened, but no words came out at first. Your gaze flickered to Ominis, as if silently cursing him, before returning to Sebastian. “How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” he admitted, taking a step closer.

You flushed, your hands twisting nervously at your sides. “Sebastian, I—”

“Just tell me,” he interrupted gently, his eyes searching yours. “Please.”

You hesitated for a moment, your breath hitching, before finally nodding. “Yes."

For a moment, Sebastian couldn’t speak. He just stood there, staring at you, his heart so full he thought it might burst. And then, without thinking, he reached for your hands, his grip firm but gentle.

“You’re in love with me?”

Your cheeks burned, but you held his gaze, your voice trembling as you said, “I am."

“I love you, too,” he said simply, the words spilling from his lips like they’d been waiting years to be spoken. “I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember."

Tears welled in your eyes as you stared at him, your expression a mix of disbelief and overwhelming relief. “You… you do?”

He smiled, his thumb brushing lightly over the back of your hand. “I do. More than anything.”

Ominis cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Well, now that that’s settled, perhaps you two can finally stop making my life so unbearably dramatic.”

Sebastian shot him a look, but there was no real anger behind it. For once, he was too happy, too relieved to care about Ominis’ meddling.

For a moment, neither of you moved, the weight of everything left unsaid finally lifted. And then, with a soft, almost hesitant smile, Sebastian tilted his head and closed the remaining distance, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was as gentle as it was certain.

When the kiss broke, Sebastian rested his forehead against yours, his smile soft but unshakably certain. “You’re stuck with me now,” he murmured, his voice low and full of promise. And as you laughed, the sound light and filled with a joy you hadn’t felt in years, you knew there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

#hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fandom #sebastian sallow #fanfic #fanfiction #x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x reader #reader insert #x you fluff #fluff #love confessions #fluff and romance #romance

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elicypher · 3 days ago

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“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „

SYNOPSIS: GOING TO AN AMUSEMENT PARK WITH YOU? OH, HE'S GIDDY ALRIGHT. OF COURSE IT'S NOT A DATE. WHAT MAKES YOU SAY THAT?

TAGS: DATE WITH GOJO, AMUSEMENT PARK, BANTER, FLUFF, GOJO REALLY LIKES YOU, FLUFF, ASPECTS OF ROMANCE SLOWLY BUILDING UP.

series masterlist : next chapter

SOMETHING ABOUT YOUR EYES — 𝐈𝐈

Late calls were the norm now. The clock on your desk blinked 4:30 AM in angry, red digits. "Don't you ever sleep, Gojo?" Your eyes were bleary, voice groggy and sleep was catching up.

On the other hand, Satoru Gojo chuckled from his end of the phone—his voice as annoyingly bright as you'd expect from someone who treated four in the morning as prime socializing time. "What? Tired of talking to me already?"

You couldn't help but scoff in amusement, rubbing your eyes. "Tired in general." You muttered. "But you can say that as well."

"Oh come on," He said. And you could hear his pout. "Tomorrow's the weekend anyway. You'll have time to rest."

"Go to sleep already."

"Nah, sleep is for the weak."

A sigh escaped you. And Gojo, upon hearing it, felt a little guilty.

"Hey," His voice dropped lower, becoming softer. "You know you don't have to keep me company staying up, right? You don't have to ruin your sleep just because I can't have mine."

"Which is pretty romantic, if you ask me." Gojo added, looking up at the ceiling of his room. "And they say chivalry is dead."

"Mmm," You hummed, letting out a breathy laugh. "It's fine, y'know. I actually enjoy talking to you. And like you mentioned, there's the weekend too. Plenty of rest for me to take."

Gojo hesitated. "Actually..."

"You're planning by yourself again, aren't you?"

He flipped over in bed, lying on his stomach. The pad of his index finger drew lazy patterns on his pillow. "You know me so well, don't ya?" He said in a sing-song voice, smiling to himself.

"Like the back of my god damn hand." You grinned.

Gojo and you had been talking for months now. Conversation between the two of you was always easy—and it was as if you never ran out of topics whilst talking with one another. The chemistry between the two of you was great. Even perfect.

"Anyway," Gojo started, focusing on tracing patterns, hoping it'd somehow calm his nerves. "Got any plans for tomorrow?"

"Other than being busy sleeping after this?"

That made him laugh. "You won't be sleeping all day, c'mon."

"Try me." You said, and Gojo hummed lightheartedly. He loved talking to you. After a brief silence, you spoke. "No, I won't."

"That's great!" Gojo exclaimed. You could hear the excitement in his voice—how enthusiastic he was at the notion, his voice tinged with a hint of relief. "So.. would you want to meet up?"

"I don't know," You chewed on your lower lip, turning to lie on your stomach as well and observing your cuticles. "Where to?"

"How does the amusement park sound?" Gojo prayed you wouldn't hear the nervousness in his voice. He wasn't one to nitpick between what words to use and what sentences to say—but with you, it was different. With you, he wanted it to be perfect. "I won't bore you, I promise." He winced.

Did that sound desperate? Too much? He stressed too much about stupid things with you—his voice, his words, the way he carried himself. You had a way of making him self-conscious.

"I'm just playing with you." You swang your legs absentmindedly, chewing on a nail. "I'd absolutely love to go with you."

And oh—how happy that made Gojo Satoru.

"What should I wear?"

"Anything." His cheeks hurt from smiling, but it was as if he couldn't make it stop. "You'd look good in anything."

"That's not helping, y'know." You grinned.

"But I mean it."

You sighed, a little amused. "Alrighty, then. I'll wear whatever."

"Alright." He repeated. The call was coming to an end, it made him a little sad. But he knew he'd see you tomorrow. To say he was happy was an understatement to how he really felt.

"Goodnight, Satoru."

Gojo opened his mouth to say something, but then paused. A long silence ensued. His heart thumped in his chest. "What?"

"Hm?"

"You.." His voice sounded weird. "You said 'Satoru', didn't you?"

You giggled. "I have no idea what you're talking about." You feigned ignorance. "Now goodnight for real."

"..." He bit his cheek, suppressing his laugh. "Goodnight (Name)."

Click. The call ended. But Satoru Gojo stayed like that for a while, in the darkness—simply staring at nothing. Then, he buried his face into his pillow, sighing. You left him a giddy mess—a legion of butterflies taking flight at the pit of his stomach.

“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „

Gojo found himself second-guessing his choice of clothes. Sure, he'd gone on dates before, but it didn't mean his nerves were any less frayed. What if he was trying too hard—or not enough?

It's not even a date, he thought—trying to convince himself to calm down, even if just a little. He just wanted to impress you.

Gojo wore a white Stüssy graphic tee, a vintage black leather jacket with racing stripes, and gray cargo pants. Black Converse and chunky silver jewelry add style, while wraparound sunglasses to complete the look. He hesitated for a moment, then took off the glasses. Too much. He checked his hair one final time in his phone's camera—and seemed fairly satisfied.

Just as he was about to look at the time, wondering if he'd come too early—you called out his name. "Satoru!"

His heart jumped a little. He turned around—and broke into a smile when he watched you wave at him. He waved back.

"Hey."

You smiled up at him. "Hi."

His eyes flickered down for a moment, taking in your outfit for the day—and god, you looked so... "Gorgeous."

"Hm?" You tilted your head. "What's up?"

"You look gorgeous." He cleared his throat. "Really pretty. I like the..." His words left him. Because how could he pick just one, when every aspect of you was beautiful? "...hmm. Everything."

You raised a brow, feigning suspicion. "Uh-huh."

"What?" Gojo grinned, smiling down at you. "Don't believe me? But I'm being serious, I promise. You look really nice."

"You look great too." You linked your arm with his, causing his pulse to quicken. The two of you were in closer proximity—more than you'd ever been before. "Hurry—I'm excited."

“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „

"Need me to hold your hand?" Satoru shouted over the clatter of the track. "I wouldn't want you to feel scared or anything."

You snickered, rolling your eyes. But you decided to play along. "You're the one who'll be begging for my hand halfway through."

"Yeah, right." He gave you a toothy smile. "We'll see about that."

As the rollercoaster climbed to it's peak—anticipation built up with bated breath. "Ready?" He looked over with excitement.

"Always!" You shout back, laughing—right before the coaster descended speedily. The ride was full of twists and turns, and by the end of it, the both of you were laughing so hard your sides hurt. Gojo wiped a tear of laughter away, smiling widely down at you. "Told ya I could handle it. How about you? Need a break?"

It took you a while to regain your composure. "Not a chance," You grinned up at him—grabbing his hand. "..What's next?"

As the evening progressed, the pace slowed down. Satoru Gojo insisted on winning you something at the carnival games, but after three entire tries at the ring toss—all disastrous—things didn't seem to be looking too good for him. You stifled a laugh.

"Stop laughing at me," Gojo pouted, dramatically placing a hand on his chest. "This is sabotage. The rings are cursed."

"Maybe you're just bad at this." You teased.

"Me? Bad?" He feigned offence. "Impossible. Watch this."

Another fail. But Gojo kept on trying anyway—he kept trying until he finally, finally succeeded (after umpteenth tries), and the over-the-top celebration had you in stitches.

"See?" Gojo stated proudly. Man, was he sweating. He really thought he wouldn't be able to acquire you anything, and thus making a fool of himself. "All skill." He gave you, what probably was his brightest smile yet—one that stretched from ear to ear. "For you. But we can call it a joint effort."

"Right." You grinned, hugging the large stuffed panda close.

“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „

The Ferris wheel was the perfect way to end the day. Gojo leaned back against the seat, his long legs stretched out casually—but his gaze was locked entirely upon you and you only. He watched you silently as you looked outside, small 'ooh's and 'wow's leaving you at the view outside and below.

"You've been smiling all day." His tone was softer. Quieter. A departure from his usual tone. It's as if his eyes wouldn't leave you; they were so gentle and relaxed. As if his eyes had found their place and respite—as if all his eyes were meant to do was be on you, admiring every inch. "I like seeing you like this."

You glanced at him, a little caught off guard by his sincerity. "It's been a really good day." You settled back into your seat from your kneeling-on-the-bench position. "All thanks to you."

"Good." He murmured, leaning in closer. He laced his fingers with yours. "That's all I wanted. To make you happy."

The Ferris wheel stopped at the top, leaving you both suspended in the air. The scene was breathtaking—but all either of you could do was focus on each other. Gojo leaned in further to push back a few strands of hair behind your ear. "Let's make this a regular thing." He whispered. "Just you and me."

You couldn't help but smile. "I'd like that."

“ 10 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐒 I'LL 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏 GOING 𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊 „

The walk home with Gojo was quiet, the dull chitter chatter filling the space between you. He was uncharacteristically mellow. Every now and then, he sneaked a glance at you, his lips quirking into a small smile when your eyes met.

When the two of you finally reached your house, he turned to you—eyes gentle as he looked down at you. "Well.. this is your stop, (Name)." He teased. "Back to your boring, Satoru-less life."

You giggled, rolling your eyes "It’s not boring." You paused, then silently admitted: "But it might be a little quieter—yes."

Gojo's eyes lit up at your confession, something akin to childlike happiness in him. "See? You’re already admitting you’ll miss me." He teased, smiling down at you with a soft expression.

For a moment, you just looked at him—the playful glint in his eyes, and the soft smile tugging at his lips. It was a rare, quiet moment. You couldn't help but feel something stir in your chest.

And before you could overthink it—you stood on the tips of your toes—and then you pressed a small, soft kiss to his cheek.

The playful grin on his face vanished in an instant. His mouth parted slightly and a faint, pink blush spread across his cheeks— creeping up to the tips of his ears. He was stunned.

"Goodnight, Satoru." you say softly, pulling back and walking up to the stairs before he could say anything. "Get back safe."

"I..." Gojo was stunned. "Hey— Wait—" His voice cracked slightly, and you stifled a little laugh, turning around to wave.

"I had fun." You called, disappearing into your house.

Gojo stood there for a moment—utterly baffled, his hand slowly coming up to touch his cheek where your lips had just been.

"..." A soft laugh escaped him. He didn't move an inch for a while — too busy grinning like an idiot and replaying the moment in his head over and over "Well…" He sighs. "That wasn’t fair."

@ELICYPHER — do not plagiarize, repost or retranslate.

#ten reasons i'll keep going back — elicypher #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x reader smut #jjk smut #jjk x reader smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #gojo satoru smut #satoru gojo smut #jjk series #jujutsu kaisen series #gojo satoru series #satoru gojo series

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residentialsinyomakai · 1 hour ago

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You'll never guess who the kinda primary subject of this yappost/doodle dump is

sigh. it always comes back

Freaky ahh bowl of rice...what's he on about

"But Yōmakai isn't this a maddiman post. Why are the first two things besides the intro not ma" IM GETTING THERE. PATIENCE

I redraw Kagemura every now and then to see if I improve!! :) Think I kinda ate w this one frfr

No me mires con tus estupidos ojos

UEgh. judging you btw

Expression stuff cause I love seeing different depictions both from other people and within my own mind

Mini thing based on a. Trend jm noticing LMAO

Also this Maddiman that scared some of my friends apparently 😔💔

AU shenanigans and this idiot again. HATE HIM BLOW HIM UP NOW!!!! Jkjk i wish people drew him more i love him :)

Anyways all done :) see you!!

#ghuhdjdedjed I like him!!! He's neat #also other things too #like slightly unhinged #crossposting this to EspacioHola later cause I need to post more often there guhuhu'''#●posts from yomakai #□ yolo watch 2!#are any of my art posts ever not going to have that tag...#yokai watch #dr. maddiman #maddiman #babblong #rawry #Caspian Hernandez #Ebi #Ebi ykw #Wotchagot #By the way!! Is my posting style kinda ehhh for lack of a better word annoying?#Someone kinda subtly hinted at my stuff being rather wordy/lengthy the other day (well. not all that subtle) and If that's the case I can #Summarize!! Or something #Or save more doodly stuff for like s[acehey/pixiv or something lol #for now tho!! Here's Madds :)#thanks for looking at my art stuffs anyways it means a lot to me ^u^ !!!! I'm happy I get to make people happy with my arts #btw mid post yomakai but i can't figure out how to add multiple pictures so I'll come back and say if I save the rest for tomorrow :o)#nvm you can tell the exact moment in post I figured it out LOL #myeahhh still posting thr rest tomorrow tho cause I forgot to name my files befr #Temporarily back on phone phew #Wait why am i writing all this down??#Know what it's cause I'm a yapper. Sigh #Sometimes you shouldn't read tags cause. You are cursed wirh the knowledge of my digital inexperience

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vmlnrzmp4 · 18 hours ago

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nsfw

a/n: this was a request. it was a bit embarrassing to post but i left shame back in 2024 so without further ado, enjoy<3

the bathroom door opened rather too loudly. too hurriedly. itoshi sae entered, seeing you sitting in the empty bathtub—your eyes hazy, your lips parted, your hair messy and your hand down to your panties—you were wasted.

you were in one of the rooms at the party, getting shots after shots till you got drunk and needy.

sae, tho your ex, rushed to find you the moment he got to know about your state—knocking on every door in the house till he found you there. "i'm taking you home," sae said in a firm voice as he walked in.

you pouted, "go away," you say childishly but that doesn't stop him as he warns you that he'll have to manhandle you out if you don't listen to him. to which you counter by saying that you will scream if he doesn't listen to you.

he runs his hand over his face, coming over to you and crouching down—almost giving up convincing you. he himself had a few shots but his was right in his mind(atleast that's what he thinks), sitting by the little stool, "what are you doing y/n?" he asks, a hint of pink coating his cheeks as he sees where your hand is.

"nothing," hiccup "nothing you should be worried about," hiccup "now go away or enjoy the show. i don't care," you say, rubbing yourself even faster and faster and faster.

"stop it y/n," he says firmly, reaching for your hand but oh, you already came all over your fingers.

giggling, you give him a mischievous look, "wanna taste?"

"you're out of your damn mind."

"maybe i am," hiccup "that doesn't answer my question. do you wanna taste or no?" you laugh giddily.

there was a silence. and maybe the shots of alcohol made sae feel something he couldn't put a finger on, "...give me that damn hand."

you snickered as he takes your middle and ring finger into his mouth, licking them clean. "can you send in some guy," hiccup "i wanna get eaten out."

sae looks at you in disbelief, "you're gonna regret this next morning y/n."

you laugh saying you regret nothing—saying that what happens will happen. you don't really care. you've left the shame back in to the time where you and sae used to date.

"i have one request i want you to fulfil, itoshi sae," hiccup "bring someone in."

the thought of some other guy getting his hands on you alone pissed sae off. pissed isn't even the right word. whatever emotion it was—jealousy perhaps—made sae pick you up from the bathtub bridal way, making you yelp.

sae settles you down at the edge of the bed, kneeling down in front of you, rolling your dress upwards till he has a perfect sight infront of him—the panties you wore on had a dark wet patch at the centre thanks to your own fingers.

before he could dive his head in between your thighs, you held onto his hair, tugging back, "not you."

"...not me?"

"not you." you hiccup again. then again as you say, "you're not my boyfriend anymore."

sae reaches for your hand that rested on his head, kissing the knuckles, "y/n...let me."

you were starting to sober up but the fire inside you didn't die down, "fine." with your permission, sae exhaled in relief as he places multiple kisses and occasional bites on the inside of your thighs, trying to mark you as his possession.

he slides your panties to the side, letting out a throaty hum at the sight of your pretty wet pussy, "fuck," he breathes out. without waiting much, he attaches his lips to where you needed him the most.

with his tongue, he drew little tight circles, zig-zags, figure eights, and every pattern he knew that would get you off—as he was basically making out with your pussy.

you keep squirming and whimpering—moaning his name and even the nickname you would call him when the two of you used to date. he groans at that, the vibrations on your pussy puts you over the edge and without warning, you come undone on his tongue, without him knowing.

and when you do so, you fall back on the bed, giggling to yourself, so tired, closing your eyes, on your way there to the dreamland.

you don't care—or even have the strength to complain about the overstimulation by the ministrations sae is providing you with.

when he's finally satisfied, he looks up at you but you were already fast asleep. sae sits besides you on the bed, running a hand through his hair, panting as he looks at your vulnerable figure.

you don't belong in her life anymore.

a voice echoed in his head.

she deserves better.

another one said.

sae gets up from the bed, fixing himself. one step, two step, three step...more steps and he'll be out of your life completely.

so he halts himself, turning around to you. you were carelessly sleeping. a drool rolling from your mouth to your cheek as you snored lightly—this elegant sight of you that sae loved dearly.

how can you walk back into her life like nothing?

"i can," he counters, making his way to you. adjusting your dress so you're not uncomfy. he pulls the duvet—covering you with it.

she deserves better.

"she deserves me."

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insomniadreamzz · 2 days ago

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I love the color blue

Jinx x Fem!Reader modern AU

Reader being a tattoo artist, no smut just mentions of nudity

The sound of the tattoo pistol buzzing was the only thing that filled up your tattoo studio, you being focused on your work. You wanted to make it perfect, especially because the woman you tattooed wasn’t just a normal customer.

You and Jinx have known each other for a while, you could say you became friends but she didn’t know you had a crush on her. Jinx always talked about the blue clouds she wants to get tattooed and today you finally gave in and made her wish get true.

She looked at you working on her arm and every now and then she looked at your face, seeing you being highly focused. One of the things she loved about you being focused was definitely the way your tongue got a little bit out, thinking you look so cute like that.

„Are you okay? Or do you need a pause?“ You asked her, Jinx shaking her head in response. „No don’t worry I am fine you can continue.“ She responded, making you keep doing your work. You knew she wasn’t the one to feel a lot of pain. Jinx past made her numb, she had to go through a lot of shit but every time she was with you, she showed at least a bit of true emotions even though she hid them very well behind her quirky behavior which seemed manic to others. It wasn’t a secret for you, you knew about her mental problems but you never thought they are a real problem for your relationship.

You couldn’t help but blush when you reached for her exposed chest. She wanted the tattoos to go along her boob and then down her ribs until they reached her tummy on the side. Of course you didn’t say no to her wish even though you needed to collect yourself once you saw her upper body naked. You could ignore it while you worked on her arm but now you are directly facing her chest, even tattooing on it. Your blush wasn’t unnoticed by her, making Jinx smirk as she looked at you still focused but this time with a blush on your cheeks. „Enjoy what you see?“ Jinx teased you but you didn’t pay much attention to it. „Yea I think these clouds came out pretty well.“ You mentioned, of course knowing what she meant but you had no time for flirting now, not wanting to mess up.

Once you finished, you took a last look at your work on Jinx, smiling as you felt satisfied with the result. „Good, I am done, go look at it yourself and tell me how you like it.“ You told her and Jinx hopped off the chair and walk towards the huge mirror in your studio, smiling as she admired your work on her. „You did a very good job toots! Thanks for that. Now I have you on me forever.“ She said as she turned to look at you, a little spark in her eyes. „M-Me? How’s that? It’s my job and I gave you the tattoos you always wanted.“ You simply reply, looking at her, noticing the tension building up between the both of you in that tiny room of your studio.

„Yes that’s the point dummy. YOU made it.“ She chuckled before walking closer to you, wanting to hug you. The feeling of her exposed chest in you making you blush. You hesitated for a moment before wrapping your arms around her waist, looking back into her beautiful eyes. „So? How many more hints do you need to understand my feelings?“

Your eyes widen a little bit at her statement. It was true, you did avoid all of her hints and attempts to get closer to you just because you didn’t want to ruin your friendship or just misinterpret something but the way she kept staring into your eyes made you realise it more. „So? You’re not just being your usual playful self?“ You said with a smirk, wanting to hear it from her but instead of using her words, Jinx decided to close the gap between you both, pulling you into a kiss.

You felt butterflies in your stomach when you kissed, tilting your head a little bit to deepen the kiss as you got lost for a moment, only wanting to enjoy the moment. When you pulled back, you both blushed, staring at each other for a a few seconds, the silence being interrupted by Jinx’s giggle. „Heh…I love you toots.“ You smile brightly at her words, not being able to hold back and ignore what just happened between you two, pecking her lips once again. „I love you too.“ You admitted, feeling the weight of your shoulders fall and you felt much lighter. „We still need to finish you up tho, the tattoos need to be protected.“ You mentioned, knowing you were still not done with your work.

„Yea sure but after you wrap them up…do you still have any customers coming today?“ Jinx asked with that special look on her face, knowing what she wanted. „You’re the only one today love. You want me to lock the doors?“ You asked mostly in a joking way but Jinx’s smile became darker, showing a little hint of lust.

„Yes…it’s time for me to take care of you after you did such a good job my love.“ She answered and you were eager to finish this up so you can focus on each other more and finally getting closer to each other like you always dreamed of.

#fanfiction #x reader #female reader #x fem!reader #short imagine #lgbtq #arcane #arcane fanfic #jinx #jinx x fem!reader #jinx fanfic #jinx arcane #jinx x reader #fanfic #lgbtq fanfiction

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erinwantstowrite · 3 days ago

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Erin is there any hints on where jason is in Peter's universe? Cuz I am dying to know

(and if there is a hint then looks like I am rereading lof for the 5th time in 2025)

hmmm not Jason, but I did give a hint about Cass and Damian in the Christmas one shot. Cass' is very hidden (it's one line) and only noticeable if you know about Cass being a dancer 🩰. Damian's is more overt because Peter actually got to see him in person. qe actually got to see and speak to Duke, but I haven't hinted at anyone else within LoF itself or the oneshot as far as I know. i can say that the oneshot gives hints as to possibilities for where the others are and where they ended up. right now, Duke is the firechief for Queens and Spider-Man has worked with him before. Peter doesn't remember him because he was so little :( and the community center that May ran got taken over by someone when she passed.

i don't want to spoil... but we will be finding out where everyone else is at. it'll be a minute, though

I will say that Peter's strong reaction to his parents' deaths is a big reason why no one would bring them up to his face for a while or go visit him, and then time and getting busy got the better if them. in this timeline they were close and saw each other, but they were mostly friends, not family, because things had changed. makes it a little tragic, in my eyes. they don't know what they were missing... this also goes for Dick's friends. some of our people are just regular, run of the mill citizens. others... 👀 both have their reasons which is why Peter ended up not being so close to them

#ao3 fanfic #leap of faith ao3 #peter parker #leap of faith catch me if you can #thank you for the ask!#peter parker in gotham #dick grayson #dick grayson is richard parker #they're somewhere out there #if anyone can guess what any of them are doing then i'll give another hint

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kawhh · 2 days ago

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I need to buy myself a chew toy I am going feral over all this dark content. When do you think the obsession started? Was it the moment he laid eyes on you? Did he completely tune out what his friends were saying as you walked by? Was he dazed and jumpy until you entered his sight again? Did his friends notice how little enthusiasm he had for almost everything after that moment until he introduced you, magically cured to full life? Did they make fun of him for randomly going on a renovation kick, buying things that added a homey, maybe feminine touch that killed the "bachelor pad" vibes? Did everything else cease to be important until he had you? Was he agitated during games before you started attending each one with his name and number on your back? Was it hard for him to focus, knowing you're states away with no one to love on you, not knowing that you belong to him yet (frankly not really knowing who he is at all)?

Nonnie, please buy me an extra chew toy. My personal notes and blurb ideas keep getting more and more off the rails. I have to keep checking that I'm writing them in the right place and not accidentally sending them to anyone lmao.

I cut myself off a bit so lemme know if you want more.

If you ever found out how he started his obssession with you.. he isn't convinced you wouldn't run. He can't ever hint towards it. Until he knows you're his forever and he can make sure you can't leave him, he won't speak a word.

He'd seen you on a night out - he'd been out with his friends in the summer break to blow off some steam and relax after the straining season.

The instant obsession corroded his brain. Your hair - it was perfection. He wanted his hands wrapped in it. Wanted to tug it and make you cry. Your skin - he just wanted to feel you. You looked so soft.. you'd feel so good in his arms.

He needed you. He wanted you. Nothing else mattered to him. Not his friends around, not his drink, not anyone hanging around him hoping for a chance.

The glance at you wasn't enough and he's struggling to find you again in the crowd. Were you a dream? A mirage? He could believe that with how perfect you were for him.

He's leaving his friends without a thought. He needs to find you again. He catches another glimpse of you - you're leaving the bar. Fuck. He needs to act fast, he can't have you enter his life and leave it. He'll apologise to his friends in the morning, they'll believe he was just exhausted.

He's dashing into a taxi, tipping them extra to follow you closely so he doesn't lose track of you, but far enough way to not be suspicious. He can't scare you off. You eventually stop at what must be your appartment. He gets the taxi driver to stop further up the road.

He won't act too fast.. he'll just.. watch. You really should learn to close the curtains. You live alone. That's good to know but also concerning. Who's looking after you? You look so fragile. He needs to learn your routine. Needs to know when he can sneak in. Needs to how how he can engineer a meeting.

Do you go to a certain cafe in the week? Where do you work? You were at the bar, do you go there often?

What decorations do you have in your apartment? What's your taste? He'll start preparing his apartment. You have plants? Well now he has plants.

#quinn hughes #qh43 #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x you #quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes blurb #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes thoughts

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kwondotcom · 1 day ago

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finally, finally built the emotional capacity to annotate something in the orange. on bsk's birthday, i said "the best thing you can do for yourself today is to read this fic." over a week later, it still stands true. this is one of the best pieces of work you will find not only on svtblr, but on the internet as a whole. i believed it then; i believe it now. 🍊 spoilers under the cut.

an anonymous assumption that was made about viv some days ago was whether she has a background as a film major, and her answer was no; she's just recently read the past lives script (lol). could've fooled me. this was a stellar device used for getting into the characters' head and describing them, and the eventual payoff of it just makes the story all the more heart-wrenching. on a more personal note: as a communication major who spent four years writing movie scripts? this shit was good.

the mark of a good apocalypse fic. how deep does the lore go? naming the phenomenon 'the Blight' and establishing it throughout is insane work. the information is bread crumbed. enough to keep you guessing. but in this first paragraph alone— extinction, famine, inflation— the domino effect of everything feels ominous. having seungkwan and the MC discussing [shotgun] marriage afterwards feels like a smoke screen. 'look, the world may be ending, but there is a young couple asking hypothetical questions and falling in love.'

absolutely devastating, by the way. i'm a big believer of love in the small moments, and there's just. something distinctly tender in how this is navigated. the images of walks home, shaky confessions, button exchanges. and the hints of what's happening, what's to come: mild dust storms, a barren world. this is a masterclass in writing, and it is genuinely so insane to me that i am getting to read this for free.

there's much to love in this passage. MC being right about the wires being good for barter. the passages that explain how the camera came to be. and just— all the premise in the world for why their love is so beautiful, how their affection persists. MC being a 'former writer' prepared for the zombie apocalypse is a nice touch.

[CAR CRASH] [GLASS SHATTERING] [EXPLOSION] “OH MY GOD” [BABY CRYING] “WAAAHH WAHH” [YELLING] “HELP MEE” [POLICE SIRENS] WEE WOO WEE WOEOO [YELLING] [HELICOPTERS] ‘WE’RE REPORTING LIVE-‘ [EXPLOSION] ‘MY LEG... MY LEG!!’ [BABY CRYING] “AHFUCKK SOMEONE HELP US” [REPORTER REPORTING]

both of the translations i found absolutely wrecked me. the first translation offers a specific kind of pain. the thought of the newlywed; longing for someone; a crying heart; if he cannot come, i will send my heart instead— after knowing MC is referred to as 'my heart'? and the second translation gives us tears of farewell; the trace of someone; how can old wounds be renewed? i'm a believer that everything is intentional, that nothing is left up to chance, especially when it comes to writing, and viv just bowls you over with the sheer thoughtfulness of a detail like this. i can't even begin to discuss the juxtaposition of a beach ruined by things like plastic and trash vs. bullet shells and shrapnel. the couple then running to be in the water together; the footage, partially obscured? i can't help but wonder how much of this is intentional. we've been privy to their romance so far, but this moment— what might be considered A Last Good Day, even, since this is d-4— isn't even perceivable in its entirety. there is only so much that we can see about their relationship on-/off-screen, both in a literal and metaphorical sense. i compound a couple of later scenes here. direction to hold an image of joy, in a mokpo beach (my god, viv; you are vicious) that is untouched by tragedy; uncertainty of whether the filming was accidental or intentional.

anticipatory loss, only for the loss to be one so unexpected. once again, i'm amazed by the amount of detail in the world-building— how viv outlines the conscription and the emotional aspects of it. how do we even begin to prepare for loss? and how do we live with the knowledge of how much we're about to lose? isn't that just the entirety of life, really? knowing that we are always going to lose one thing or another. in response: we hold things tight. we look, and memorize, and catalogue. it reminds me of the popular quote: "everything i've ever let go of has claw marks on it."

i was struck between the eyes by the violence of that act [cutting any scenes], because this very much feels like the crux of reconstruction/memory/narrative. seungkwan is in charge of what will be remembered; how the MC will be remembered. i adore the ambiguity of whether the scenes reflect a stitched-together film or whether we're following along seungkwan's review. equally, there's just something gutting about this playing out in some perverted version of what MC and seungkwan joked about i.e. a world with electricity, where seungkwan had free reign to do what he wanted with all the gathered clips.

not thieves, just travelers. expecting last words and getting the ghost of a kiss instead. your eyes, only ever kind. there is so much to love here, so much to adore in the stylistic, technical sense, but what comes to fore for me is this: viv's respect for the dead/dying. an honorable death in its own right. unjustified, still. devastating, always.

i will be honest. it's nearing 4 a.m. as i wrap this up (annotations were done in non-chronological order lmao), and i feel my coherency waning. i know enough to say that these were some lines that felt like a literal gut punch. the idea that our writer!MC and filmmaker!seungkwan can still nurture creativity. to love and be loved. the thought that MC always smiled at seungwkan over the camera. love. loss. a heart's a heavy burden. and you were seungkwan's heart, weren't you?

i think, in my initial read— struck by grief of the fic lol— i'd skipped over seungkwan's line here. twice as many stars as usual. let's look up together. this scene takes place in a corn field, presumably the night before the Incident. two-headed calves don't survive for very long; most pass away in less than 24 hours, their deformities taking a toll on their lifespan. the poem has always tugged at my heart, because at its core it talks about finding so much hope, and light, and love, in a short lifespan. and is that not the case of seungkwan and MC? twice as many stars. some beauty and peace despite being doomed from the beginning. all any of us have is however long we have.

ending this with two of my favorite poems on grief. a discussion i've had time and time again is whether a person can be complimented on their ability to write grief. is it a insult, to be told that you write about grief well, when it takes an acute understanding of loss to be able to pull it off? i haven't figured that out yet. and so i conclude, instead, with this. grief's familiar rooms and how it reminded me of the scenes wherein seungkwan is rewatching the clips (pulling at its buttons / that are not answers); poem and how, by and by, it reminds me of this gorgeous piece as a whole. i'm changed in inexplicable ways because of something in the orange, and i'm not exaggerating. how lucky are we to be in a time where writing like this is free to read; how grateful am i to exist in viv's orbit, under the same starry skies. the poem story ends, soft as it began, —

something in the orange

summary. remembrance is also reconstruction. reconstruction presupposes loss. a meditation on memory, narrative, and grief. and, of course, love. pairing. boo seungkwan x gn!reader genre/tags. ANGST, (semi-graphic) major character death, interstellar au-ish (just the blight), non-linear narrative, blurred fiction and reality if you squint (sorry I reread goodbye eri while writing), unbeta’d (mistakes are my own) wc. 5k suggested listening. love wins all, iu // 消費期限, seventeen // triassic love song, paris paloma // eight, iu prod. & ft. suga // yawn, seventeen // something in the orange, zach bryan (or niall's cover)

notes. midnight in korea now; happy birthday kwannie! this is very experimental, and admittedly i'm not fully satisfied w it, but I didn't know how to change it atp. sorry boo, it's your birthday but i give you pain. as always, reblogs are appreciated and come say hi if you're so inclined 🫶🏼

D-17 EXT. SEOUL TRAIN STATION – KOREA – DAWN The sun rises over the ruins of Seoul Station. The air is clear of smoke and fog. A shot of the sun peeking over the heap of steel, glass, and cement that once served as the station’s framing. The train tracks run to the far horizon, to the left and right of the frame. Pan to YOU (young-looking though age is ambiguous, former writer, love of SEUNGKWAN’S life) squinting at an old, battered map of Korea’s train lines, and a compass. You’re wearing battered jeans that are slightly too big, boots, and a sturdy leather jacket. Behind the camera, SEUNGKWAN (male, young-sounding though age is ambiguous, former video producer) narrates. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) BOO-log number 529. We’re now figuring out how to get to Mokpo. Neither of us are any good with directions, but my partner decided that we could try following train lines since the none of them are running anyway. You look up at the sound of his voice, noticing the camera.

YOU (exasperated, but fond) Kwannie, are you filming again? We have 30 batteries, but not all of them might be working. You might need to save battery and memory if you want to video the view of Jeju Island. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) It’s okay, I really just wanted to record us before we start. Once we’re walking, I won’t use the camera as much. And I have twenty other SD Cards! YOU (not surprised) Okay, we’ll definitely figure something out for the batteries, then. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) Yeah. Now— Seungkwan’s voice changes to a more formal tone, as though he were imitating a newscaster. SEUNGKWAN (O.S., CONT’D) What are your thoughts as we start our newest adventure? The camera catches your grin. You follow along, changing your tone to an impression of those backpackers in TV documentaries. YOU Um, I’m excited to see Jeju-do, even from afar, because it’s part of Seungkwannie, and we had our honeymoon there. As long as we’re careful, I know we can do it. If we’re lucky, we may even find someone who can bring us across. Beat. You look ever so slightly awkward in front of the camera. YOU (CONT’D) Wait, here, give me the camera. I’ll record you this time. The footage shakes, briefly showing a tiled floor, then train tracks, before panning to a blurry face. The camera shakes for a moment before the image comes into focus, revealing a beautiful young man with dark hair. Seungkwan does a better job at the “interviewer voice”, but you’re no slouch either. YOU (O.S., CONT’D) So, Seungkwan-ssi, what are your thoughts as we embark on a new adventure? SEUNGKWAN (genuine) I think it’s about to be wonderful.

D–2183

When the Blight started, both you and Seungkwan were in high school. Though only having known you since that start of your third year, you’ve quickly wormed his way into his life—visiting his house, having dinners with your family, and he even managed to force you into joining the badminton club with him.

Bees now officially extinct, the news proclaims, an effect of the ravaging of nearly all plant life. Asia in particular has suffered; the widespread rice shortages due to it becoming impossible to grow resulted in widespread famine. The extinction of plants used for feed, made food prices across the board skyrocket. Corn, it seems, is the only crop that can resist the Blight—and the rest of the world now has to adjust its staple food to mimic the old Americas.

“Seungkwan.” You prod his ribs.

“Mm?”

“What would you do if the world ends tomorrow?”

“Marry you.” You laugh, until you realize he isn’t joking.

“What?” Your voice pitches to an incredulous squeak.

“Marry you,” he repeats.

“Why, though?”

“I always wanted to get married,” Seungkwan replies, after a moment of pondering. “And if the world ends tomorrow, as of today you’d be my best candidate for marriage.”

For a moment, you just look at him, eyes tracing over his features. Your steady gaze makes him shift, uncomfortable, wondering if he said something wrong. Eventually, you shrug, though there’s a twinkle in your eye as you quirk a smile at him.

“While I don’t support shotgun marriages, I’d make an exception for you and the end of the world.”

His breath catches, heart stuttering as he tries to parse your answer in his head. “Wha—you—”

“Come on, Seungkwan, don’t dish it if you can’t take it,” you groan, flopping sideways to plop your head against the armrest. Your legs tilt as you do, your foot brushing against his calf. He tries not to jolt at the contact.

“I’m sorry!” He pouts, trying to calm the uneven fluttering of his heart. You laugh, shifting your lean in the opposite direction, so your head lands on his lap. Despite having done it a thousand times before, he traces softly the way your hair falls, admiring the way its color contrasts with the color of his pants.

(Looking back, he’ll think about how that day changed things, even just by a little bit; how his gazes grew longer, noticing more how the sunsets glowed against your face as you walked home together every day, painting you golden. How you’d both gotten used to creative ways of shelter when mild dust storms come, thanking your luck each time that you had gotten home before it truly began.

He’ll think about how, a year from that day, he kissed you as he walked you home for the last time before you enter your separate colleges, swallowing the teasing took you long enough from your lips as he finished his shaky confession.

He’ll think of how you exchanged second buttons like those characters from that anime you liked did, and the quiet promises to make things work even as the world seems to turn more barren than both of you can follow.

He’ll think of how three years from then, he gets on one knee, to your tearful yes and salty kisses. Your small marriage, with just your families, batchmates, and some professors, followed by a beautiful honeymoon in Jeju. Despite it all.

None of these decisions had anything to do with the end of the world, but you and Seungkwan made them, nonetheless.)

D-9 INT. A TENT – A TRAIN STATION SOMEWHERE BETWEEN SEOUL AND MOKPO – NIGHT The footage is grainy due to the lack of proper lighting; the camera shakes as Seungkwan seems to be trying to balance it on something. The tent is quite cramped; the inside is sparse, with only two sleeping bags and your knapsacks—Seungkwan’s with two camping pans attached with a carabiner. The leather jacket you were wearing is now resting on one of the bags. You have both swapped your sturdy day pants for more comfortable, albeit worn, sweatpants. Out of context, it looks like a vlog filmed by two campers on a hike. The camera steadies as Seungkwan moves away. He moves to sit beside you. There is an easy intimacy as you thread your fingers together, almost mindlessly. SEUNGKWAN BOO-log number 531. We passed by a sign that said Nonsan. That means we’re probably halfway there. YOU We made progress better than expected, didn’t we? I estimated at least two weeks. SEUNGKWAN (nodding, excited) I thought the train tracks would have been ruined, since the stations are, but they’re surprisingly reliable. YOU It’s true; of course there were times when we had to find our way around the tracks, or climb above anything that fell down over it, or go through some cornfields, but mostly, it seems we’ve been lucky. SEUNGKWAN By the way—everyone, it looks like we’re in a tent in the middle of nowhere, doesn’t it? Don’t be fooled, we set this up in a convenience store. YOU (laughing) You ruined it! Now we can’t be funky backpackers with a tent on the train tracks. SEUNGKWAN (playfully lecturing) It’s good to be truthful, you know. What if kids watch this someday? We have to be good moral people. YOU (with the remnants of a laugh) Okay, okay. We set this up in the Seven Eleven inside one of the train stations. Abandoned, obviously. We made it in right before the dust storm hit. SEUNGKWAN Another good news today is that we managed to barter something for food. YOU Yeah. This one engineer or something—I think he’s a veteran? But we saw him tinkering on his porch and offered a trade, his corn for our cables, and now we have dinner. SEUNGKWAN (joking) It’s not jokbal, but it’ll do, I suppose. YOU (groaning) Oh my God, what I’d give for some jokbal right now. With bossam. And soju. SEUNGKWAN I’ll be dreaming of that tonight. YOU Anyway, everyone, we’ll end the log here, so we have enough batteries for a nice long BOO-log at Mokpo. Both you and Seungkwan wave your corn (dinner) at the camera. You reach forward, covering the lens with your palm. The clip ends.

D–20

Seungkwan walks around the house. He’s doing his last checks, checking between what’s in his bag and what’s in the rooms to parse if he’s missed anything—batteries, your wallets, matches, passports, birth certificates, first aid kit, water bottles, toothbrushes, all the canned food in the pantry, the sturdiest kitchen knife you both owned (wrapped in two layers of cloth), the Swiss knife he was gifted a few years back, flashlights, a whistle, and all the carabiners and hard cash you had were already packed.

He finds you in your shared bedroom. There are a bunch of wires there, evidently cut from various appliances. You’ve wrapped the cables as neatly as you could manage. On the bed, you’ve laid all your dry-fit shirts and the sturdiest pairs of pants you both have. Then, from the dresser, you’ve collected the most expensive jewelry the both of you own—well, all of them, but you separated the expensive ones in another pile. He points to the latter.

“What’s that for?”

“If cash fails, maybe gold won’t. I don’t know, just in case the currency collapses. But they’re worth bringing all the same.” Also, you hold out copies of both your health insurances. He opens his knapsack and quickly stuffs them in the same place as your other documents.

“Last resort kindling?” Seungkwan offers, showing the cluster of documents in his compartment. The remark draws a quick breath of a laugh from you.

“Probably.”

“How about the wires?”

“You never know when we’ll need some emergency engineer bullshit; plus, if it comes to it, the wires will probably be better barter material. Before you ask,” you hold up one hand, “I edited a zombie novel a few years back. But if that kid was pulling out of his ass, we’re fucked.”

Despite your disclaimer, the no-nonsense, matter-of-fact way you’re handling the situation makes something settle in him, as though all he needed was an anchor amid the chaos. He pulls you close, placing a kiss to your temple. The tension in your body melts as you press against him. For a moment, Seungkwan just holds you. A temporary anchor before you need to move.

Turning to him, you offer a quick peck to his lips before holding up his trusted camera bag, worn as it is. “Bring it,” you tell him firmly. “We need a little bit of happiness. Get all the SD cards you have, too. In case we just never leave Mokpo. It’s small enough to stuff in our pockets.”

Seungkwan can’t help it; he grabs your face and kisses you. The camera bag sits between you awkwardly, but he doesn’t care. He savors this, the familiar taste of it, the contours of your face that his hands have long since memorized. You pull away, but not before kissing his lips again, then his nose. He’ll never quite get used to the way you look at him, as though there is something new to love each time.

“We’re gonna be okay, my heart.”

D-4 EXT – A LONG STRETCH OF BEACH – MOKPO, SOUTH KOREA – SUNSET The camera captures a breathtaking sunset. The sky is a wash of oranges and pinks, the clouds purple yet lined in the light of the sun. Mokpo is on the southwest side of Korea; the view of the sunset is particularly beautiful, as the sun sinks down into the sea. There are faint silhouettes of islands both near and far from the shore. The waters are tranquil, and there are no sounds except for the steady wash of the waves on the shore.

The shot slowly pans to you. Your expression is tranquil, despite the dirt and tears across your clothes. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) (soft, so soft you don’t hear) Pretty. YOU (clueless) Hm? SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) Nothing. Can you see Jeju Island from here?

He already knows where it is. YOU (laughing softly, a little sad) To be honest, I don’t know which piece of land I’m seeing is Jeju. A finger appears at the edge of the screen. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) There, that’s Jeju. Right behind the blob that looks like a hat. YOU (squinting) Oh! Right, that’s what it looks like. Beat. YOU (CONT’D) The view is beautiful. It’s been so long since I’ve seen the sea. Seungkwan hums the opening to Tears of Mokpo. You don’t recognize it until he softly begins to sing the opening lyrics. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) (singing) 사공의 뱃노래 가물거리면… YOU (laughing outright) That doesn’t have anything to do with Jeju! He sings louder just to spite you. You playfully roll your eyes. Bending down, you unlace your boots and take off your socks, sinking your bare feet into the sand with barely-concealed relish. Seungkwan stops singing as he knows what you’re about to do. SEUNGKWAN Careful; don’t step on anything sharp. As you move forward, the camera follows you. It is revealed that the beach is not so picturesque. The sea seems to have dried up some, and even here, bits and bobs of life float on the surface and linger in the sand.

There are the usual culprits: plastic bags, empty cans of alcohol and soda, and snack wrappers. Yet visible also on the camera are the following: bullet shells, shrapnel, a chair leg, a ragged pillow, and a cracked desktop monitor. As all this is visible, the camera centers on you laughing, splashing in the saltwater and enjoying the breeze in your hair. YOU (calling; audio faint) Kwannie! Come here! A beat. The camera zooms in on your face. YOU Kwannie, come on! Hurry up! SEUNGKWAN (proximity makes his voice loud) Okay! A rustle. The camera is laid down, cloth (Seungkwan’s jacket) obscuring part of the footage. After a nudge, the cloth disappears from frame. Another figure, barefoot, joins you.

D–119

Jeju has officially been declared abandoned, lost for some other country to use as farmland. The radio announced the treaty ratification today. Seungkwan is a spectre around the house, listless and heartbroken.

Months ago, when the conflict began to escalate in earnest, he began whatever arrangements he could to ensure his family was safe, moving them as near to the farming areas as he could manage and encouraging them to share whatever techniques they knew could help former cities now learning how to farm. The news does not make the sharp pang of grief dull any less.

He is at the age when he is to receive a conscription notice; Korea has since shifted its system to split soldiers into those who will either fight on the front lines of the Resource Wars, or serve by tilling the land and ensuring that there is enough corn for the population, however dwindling. There is no guarantee on which one he is to get, even if he did register himself as head of household (and should hypothetically be assigned the latter), but he is due to receive news in a few months’ time.

The promise of the notice hangs over both your heads. In the mornings, you spend ten more minutes just looking at him, as though you were memorizing the shapes and contours of his features. At night, he curls into you more tightly than before; once you’d have complained that it was too hot, now, you simply wrap your arms around him and let him sink his face into your hair.

“Hey, Seungkwannie.”

“Mm?”

“Let’s go on a trip.” The hand mindlessly running through your hair falters.

He pulls away, looking at you with a furrowed brow. You keep your head low, pressed against his chest. “What?”

“Let’s go south. Yeosu, Mokpo, whatever, just near the beach, as close as possible to Jeju. Just…just see it, even from afar.” At his silence, you barrel on. “If we walk enough, we can make it in two weeks—a week if we can hitch a ride with one of those crop trucks or something—and then just another two weeks back, if we don’t settle in Mokpo outright.”

“Food—”

“I can pack us as much as I can. We’ll need to ration, and possibly trade, but we can do it. The treaty is in place, and it’s most dangerous up north right now. Going south isn’t as big of a risk, and the weather has been looking good lately.” Finally looking up, you cup his cheek, tracing the skin with your thumb. He presses his lips to your wrist.

“It’s okay if you don’t want to Kwannie. I just thought you might want to say goodbye.”

“I…” he falters. It’s tempting. Unbearably so, despite the nagging at the back of his head that it would be better to leave it at that, keep his memory limited to the days you spent there dodging dust storms and falling in love. He doesn’t know how much it’s changed. How much the ocean might have even dried up. He doesn’t know if he can stomach to see it. “Give me a few days to think about it?”

“Of course, Kwannie. All the time you need.”

D+29

Seungkwan’s life has been demarcated into two. Before, and after. He goes through the motions of the government-run fields: waking up, clocking in, eating breakfast, tilling the soil, weeding, lunch, the occasional drills in case they were still expected to fight, transporting corn from one warehouse to another, dinner, sleep. Repeat.

Not a lot of people are here; many prefer to till fields they own, or collectively own; for once, agrarian reform straightened itself out at the start of the Blight. Yet with the dwindling population—slowly withering family trees—those lands acquired by the government grew.

Sometimes, Seungkwan thinks of home. He was lucky enough that the head of the center, Seungcheol, was kind enough to register his name as part of the deployed cadets under his supervision, despite the incomplete paperwork he had when he stumbled into his field, frail and dehydrated from lack of food and water.

Home remains now only in his memory, and in every replay of the Christmases he captured on camera. The soil is more unforgiving than before; it distracts from the loneliness.

EXT. A SMALL FIELD, WEDDING VENUE – DAY The wedding is humbly decorated with dried corn leaves fashioned into flowers, as there are no real ones anymore (none within the budget, anyway). Guests came as they are, though everyone has made an effort to clean up more than usual. It is currently the reception, and the speakers are playing a quick beat. The guests are dancing, laughing, and cheering, though their movements are blurry and almost smeared onscreen (step-printing effect). In the middle of it, you stand, the only still figure in the frame. You’re smiling softly to someone behind the camera, very clearly in love. Cut to Seungkwan, in a similar position, the guests around him dancing as but blurs. He is wearing a similar expression. He begins to walk forward.

You meet in the middle, still the only clear figures to the camera, and begin to dance. As though the dance were a spell, the surroundings cut to: INT. A MEDIUM-SIZED LIVING ROOM – NIGHT EXT. SEOUL STATION, IN RUINS – DAY INT. YOUR TENT (MAGICALLY ENLARGED) – NIGHT EXT. LONG STRETCH OF BEACH (UNPOLLUTED) – MOKPO – SUNSET Hold this image for a moment. The sea laps at your ankles. The bottom of both your garments brushes against the saltwater, but neither of you seem to notice. Both you and Seungkwan close the gap to meet in a tender kiss. Suddenly, cheers. You part, and are back to: EXT. A SMALL FIELD, WEDDING VENUE – DAY The newly-married couple smiles and waves. The bottom of their garments are damp.

D+167

It seems surreal to have all the batteries he wants, and even a computer where he can replay all his footage—more than 4000 hours’ worth of it. It took a few months of work to earn enough credits and rank to access it, but Seungkwan pursued the goal with single-minded purpose. There is enough electricity in this center to run a few computers, and Seungkwan is its most regular customer, painstakingly going through each clip on the dozens of SD cards he has.

For footage so far back, from when you had just been married, there are parts where he no longer remembers what happened after the clips end. They remain in his memory as but colored ghosts, warm-tinged with nostalgia. Cabinets that would never be opened again, now filled, in his dreams, with infinities.

The house of his memories blurs with the house of his oneirism. In both, he subsists on sleep and daydreams. But memory will betray; it won’t tell him if the house he remembers has been altered by each remembrance. So he watches his videos. He walks through his house, now only alive in video and reconstructed by memory. He sees himself and he sees you, in all the different iterations you both were. Wonders if he could stitch both into narrative. Wonders if he could even bear to cut any scenes. He’s never thought about the violence of that act until now.

Inventories do not just catalogue possession; they also measure the potential of loss. It was a quote from one of your writing workshops, discussed over a late dinner. You could still afford some meat then; Seungkwan had saved just enough for a small slab of cured pork, which you would cut tiny slabs from for both of you to enjoy before bed.

He has five minutes left of his designated slot with the computer.

Seungkwan watches, and he catalogues.

D=0

Seungkwan only remembers in flashes—a gunshot. A scream. It’s only when he replays that moment in his mind that he realizes it was his voice. Barely a thud as your body is cushioned by the corn leaves. Dark red liquid, somehow both grainy and slippery on his hands as he drags you into the thick of the field, away from the path, trying desperately to stem the blood while minimizing your trail. Until finally, he collapses, feet unable to bring him a step further.

More flashes—your eyes, only ever kind. Even at your last moments. The way you hold his hand and place it over the pocket you keep his SD cards, as though reminding him one last time. The way your eyes search his face, first desperate, and then resigned. The way he leaned in when you opened your mouth, to hear your final words, only to feel the ghost of chapped lips brush against his ear. The gush of blood that dribbles past your mouth that tells him you’re gone.

(The Resource Wars felt like more a backdrop than anything else; you had come this far without any altercation. Yet even as you screamed that you were not thieves, just travellers, the gunshot rang.

The cornfields weep with him as he leaves you behind, SD cards clutched in his bloody hand.)

D–4

TIME CUT TO: It is twilight, now. The camera is trained on the horizon. The sun has fully set, and night is beginning to settle in the sky. Only the barest hints of orange remain. The footage has already become slightly grainy due to the lighting. Neither you nor Seungkwan are on the camera. Instead, voices are heard while the darkness arrives. It is not evident whether the footage was taken accidentally, or on purpose. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) (softly) I’m glad we came. Really, even if we couldn’t get to Jeju. I’m glad. I’m glad it’s with you. YOU (O.S.) (just as softly) I’m glad too, my heart. You filmed the whole sunset, didn’t you? Start to finish? SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) Yeah. Yesterday and today. I have so much footage that I don’t know what to do with.

Breath. SEUNGKWAN (O.S., CONT’D) Actually, that goes for all the BOO-logs. Even the ones from high school and college. YOU (O.S.) (surprised) You never tried editing them? SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) I have, but what then? There are hardly any theaters now. Nowhere else to post. And electricity is expensive. YOU (O.S.) Okay, but if we both die, what do you think’s gonna happen to this camera? Seungkwan is many things; a prideful badminton player (before the Wars stopped sports events), a videographer, casual vlogger, and a corn field worker. You are also many things; an editor (before your company closed from too little employees), author, copywriter, and occasional tiller.

Both of you still enjoy nurturing sparks of creativity when they come. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) Mm. someone picks it up and it gets immortalized in a post-war museum. And our videos will be a special feature. YOU (O.S.) Oooh. And the war museum would be on a spaceship, with funky gravity and new plants and meat the astronauts domesticated from a different planet. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) And there’s a new jokbal. Call that out of this world delicious. YOU Stop! Despite the terrible joke, you both laugh, then let the conversation drift into comfortable silence. The sun has fully set. Nothing much can be discerned visually from the footage. YOU (O.S., CONT’D) Hey, Seungkwannie. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) Mm? YOU (O.S.) If you had the chance, like computers and steady electricity, would you edit all the BOO-logs into a short film? SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) (skeptical, but thinks about it seriously) What would the plot even be? A married couple traveling to Mokpo, dodging dust storms and chasing each other through cornfields? Watching the stars at night? YOU (O.S.) (earnest) Yeah! Or, y’know, make it semi-autobiographic, like two lovers wanting to visit where they first had their honeymoon. Or maybe I’m sick and you want to take me to the sea one last time? The footage earlier could fit with that storyline. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) Don’t even say that! YOU (O.S.) (laughing softly, apologetic) Sorry, sorry. But if you do make a short film, I want to be the first to see it. It’s been so long since I’ve seen you work. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) What about you, then? Would you write a book about us? YOU (O.S.) Oh, definitely. And you’d be the first to read it. The footage cuts.

D+182

Seungkwan replays the footage again. Beside him, Vernon fiddles with a pen.

“What do you think about making this a short film?” Seungkwan asks.

Vernon stops.

Seungkwan may be their newest addition, but the rest of the crew has grown protective. He brings light to their conversations, effortless in his ability to entertain and bring laughter. Mingyu asks him of his favorite foods, especially the ones he misses from Jeju, even if recreating them is near impossible. Seungcheol reprimands anyone who tries to bully him into giving up his share of rations. Junhui has begun to joke more, noticing how Seungkwan seems to be particularly into his humor.

Yet everyone recognizes the sadness that still clings to his heels.

Vernon looks, for a long moment, at the monitor, frozen with a picture of a smiling face he’s never known—never personally, only ever through the screen and Seungkwan’s stories, always shared in quiet whispers in the privacy of his room.

He knows, though. Knows that this person was real. They loved, and were loved. It speaks in how the camera follows whoever is in the frame. The cuts of certain clips, as though either the person behind the camera joined their partner or had a moment that could not be captured in film. Most of all, it was the way whoever was in the frame would, without fail, smile at the person behind it.

“I think,” he replies, choosing his words deliberately, “that you are in a unique position to dictate how someone is to be remembered by those who never knew them. And…” he hesitates, wondering if two months of these quiet conversations is still too little to be so candid with his friend, especially when talking of loss.

So, so much loss.

Seungkwan answers that question for him. “It’s okay, Vernon-ah.”

“…Well, I just wanted to say that it’s a burden to bear, is all.”

EXT – A CORNFIELD UNDER THE STARS – NIGHTTIME The stars have emerged, visible in all their glory. After the start of the Blight, when the population began to dwindle, electricity and many other resources became scarce. Much of the light pollution that was once a problem has disappeared. Brilliant dots twinkle overhead. To you and Seungkwan, it could pass for the Milky Way. The POV seems to be at a low point; stalks of corn are visible at the edges of the frame. Yet the stars are bright, captured exceedingly well.

You’re softly speaking aloud Laura Gilpin’s The Two-Headed Calf. It was one of the poems you memorized in college, as a creative writing major. YOU (O.S.) (as though from far away) Tomorrow when the farm boys find this freak of nature, they will wrap his body in newspaper and carry him to the museum.

But tonight he is alive and in the north field with his mother. It is a perfect summer evening: the moon rising over the orchard, the wind in the grass. And as he stares into the sky, there are twice as many stars as usual. Long beat. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) Twice as many stars as usual…let’s look up together. YOU (O.S.) I see the stars, my heart, but I’m tired…

A breath hangs in the air. Some rustle of cloth, as though someone had adjusted so you fit together. A soft sigh. YOU (O.S.) Good night, Kwannie. SEUNGKWAN (O.S.) …Good night, darling. End.

note. are the screenplay bits from the short film? the raw sd card clips? his memories? distorted memories? guess we'll never know. nonlinear bc grief is nonlinear. pls tell me your thoughts (even/esp if u didn't get the story lol) take care of yourselves always <3

#𖤐 kae reads svt #𖤐 favorites #tangina umiiyak na naman ako at 3:40 am hahaha #NAPAKALALA TALAGA feeling ko nabugbog ulit ako #i love this fic so much. it is so dear to me. i am just... sooo grateful to have read it #viv my light my love. thank you thank you thank you. a thousand times over.

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elysiae · 2 days ago

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um hey. im a little super nervous about asking this lol but, im gonna do it.

ive had this novel idea for like a year now, alright? ive listened to a lot of writing advice (not that "how to write" stuff but "how to make ur stuff effective" things for lack of better description) because i dont know how i'll execute it, ive had this one big question in my mind... but everything i listen to not only doesnt answer it, it makes it feel more out of reach.

my idea was these 4 characters being captured and taken into a super paranoid cult deep in the woods, that happens to have a serious werewolf problem. the cult picks out people they deem untrustworthy and beheads them, and it's this whole thing. it's a horror story, obviously. but thats not my problem: my problem is that i want my main characters to lie to the reader. my characters are spies, theyre after this cult because theyre suspected to be at the center of some weird shit going on with the moon. but, i dont want my readers to know this until later in the book when they finally backstab the cult after it seems like these characters have fallen for the tricks and propaganda thats being spread, with one of them even becoming one of the guardians. i want the reader to fall for their facade, too, but with more awareness than the cult. i want them to realize that there is most definitely something deeper, but, yknow. yknow how foreshadowing works.

and the thing is, my darlings are like GOOD spies, not only that theyre practically superhuman, even if i wasnt gonna include that. i was 100% going to include foreshadowing with my MCs slipping up slightly, or saying weird things, but the main problem im having is i dont know how to make my readers get attached to these characters. if i give a cover story and play it as their real backstories, won't that just upset the readers when it's revealed theyre not what they seemed? won't it feel like it was all false internal conflict? am i worrying for absolutely no reason? would people not give a fuck about it if i did lie to them for the first half of the book, as long as i executed it good enough? will they still be attached to these characters even if it's revealed they're not who they seemed (they will keep their personalities and most traits though)? (and future novels WILL be written of these guys if this ever happens, this is just like, an introduction novel, i suppose.)

my first MC is a manipulator, that's his whole thing is being a manipulator. but my second one is more straightforward, blunt, anddd not human but that isn't covered in the story, it's just hinted at. i was going to use them as my big red flag but im just. i dont want to disappoint my readers you know??? i LOVE This idea, i love my concepts and my story. i can figure out the internal conflict to reel my readers in, but im just. worried. and it might be my first ever novel? (depending on what happens, i'll probably write something less serious. probably, hopefully, my first published novel.) so i REALLY don't want to fuck it up lmao.

im just seriously at a loss. and i want opinions, from writers and readers alike, on what they think. if more information is needed i can 100% give more but its just like. can i even do it? not even just like a skill thing, is that just. something that can be done without breaking the usual structure of getting to know your characters? and god im so bad at wording but i hope this all made sense. please spread this to anyone that can give advice. i want to do this so bad but i dont want to waste my time if its something that just straight up cant be done.

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alex-supremacy4 · 10 months ago

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open yhe noor. OPEN THE NOO

why should i

#i thank you for sending me this ask with the charlie image .#i can now hint at what i am going to make

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the-judicial-assistants-notebook · 2 years ago

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*KICKS THE DOOR DOWN* WWWAIT FREYA I HAVE MIXED FEELINGS ON FANDOMS VIEW OF THIS SHIP I NEED TO KNOW UR OPINION. HOMUMIKU???

WKSHJSHJDBJHAHAHAH HIIIII, GRACE!!!! ❤️💕💞💝💗💖💘💓💕💞💖💞💘

Homumiko (HUGE spoilers for DGS after the bingo sheet):

I have been waiting to get into this ship properly, because I have THOUGHTS and I need to be forced to get them out coherently.

Let's get into the basic ship itself. Honestly? No comment. I think hmmk cheats a bit by relying on the literal decades people have spent shipping Holmes and Watson together, and I doubt that they would be half as popular without this history; but, as someone who has never had strong feelings about HolmesWatson either way, I don't have that bias! Even if we're just going off of DGS and looking at how they complement and trust each other, and are obviously more comfortable around one another than most other people, I don't really have a strong opinion on them. I do think they're close, but whether that bond is platonic, romantic, sexual or some mix of the two is just not something I particularly care about. You know who I do care about, though?

Susato-san.

OKAY, SIT DOWN, EVERYONE BECAUSE THE SHIP BINGO PART OF THIS IS OVER, AND NOW WE'RE GOING TO TALK ABOUT THE PARTS OF HMMK I DO CARE ABOUT AND WHY THAT ACTUALLY HAS VERY LITTLE TO DO WITH THEM AND EVERYTHING TO DO WITH HER.

Let's get this out of the way first. Based on my very modern sensibilities, I take a rather harsh stance on Mikotoba's parenting.

Do I think he loves his daughter? Sure. But which parts of his daughter? Because it's very easy to love a child who is always obedient, elegant and the literal embodiment of idealised Japanese womanhood without knowing or truly even looking at her. I think Susato made it easy for him to love her, because she believed she had to earn it. Her father left when she was born, consumed by grief over her mother's death -- her mother, whom she killed. I know the game tries to justify this by saying it was Jigoku who dragged him away (and I do think him leaving was good for him, because I doubt he would have been a good father even if he'd stayed due to his grief), but the point is that he still left. For six years. And when he returned, he didn't even return because of her (whether she knew that from the moment she met him or not is debatable, but I think, at least on a subconscious level, she knew. And, of course, it's also debatable whether he could have returned sooner because of his commitment as a transfer student, but the Mikotobas are a powerful family, and, if Soseki could return before his period of learning was fully up, I think he would have been able to pull strings to return home if he wanted to).

This falls under speculation, so I understand not agreeing with it, but I don't think Mikotoba ever properly spoke to Susato when she was a child, especially not about what he did in England. I believe that a part of the reason why Susato started reading the Sherlock Holmes stories to begin with was because they featured a doctor in London, like her father had been, and she wanted to feel closer to him through those stories. And it probably worked! Her father probably did start engaging with her more after after she picked them up, because it was an easy way to connect with her. That's why I believe she was so insistent on the existence of John H. Watson, as a doctor, when she met Iris and learnt the truth.

There's this distance between Susato and her father which glimpse in moments in the game, like how he remarks on her lack of composure in court (suggesting that he isn't used to seeing her yamato nadeshiko mask slip), how he less requests her trust and more orders or expects it forthright, and how he seems reluctant to face the parts of her that inconvenience him (like how he asks her to play the koto when he isn't home and how, when faced by her real anger, he looks to Holmes to explain the situation rather than actually attempt to himself).

HOWEVER, in the setting of the game (Meiji-era Japan), I will concede that Mikotoba is a fantastic father. He may not have been very present in her life growing up, but men largely weren't expected to be. Their jobs were to provide for their children, not nurture them. And Mikotoba went well beyond his duty in that regard. Add to that the fact that he had her properly educated, ensured she knew how to defend herself, and allowed her to pursue her studies overseas at a level that was on par with any man, and you can see that he's really quite a great father; which is why I don't think he sees his absence as a flaw or even notices he was absent. Susato, though, does.

Now, Susato is obviously a product of her time, too, so I believe she'd be insulted if anyone was to suggest that her father or childhood was lacking in some way. That being said, I do believe she is aware of the distance between them in a way he is not. I think her affection for him is founded on a sense of duty and filial piety rather than pure love (although, obviously, she does love him), and, as she grew older, she stopped vying for his affection; hence why she's obsessed with the Great Detective more so than anyone else when we meet her. I also think that this distance contributed to her becoming so attached to Kazuma, in spite of the fact that he kept her at arm's length, too; he may not have allowed her very close, but he was always there, and he saw her for who she truly was. When she leaves at the end of the first game, Susato is not so much anxious that her father is ill as she is shaken -- she seems more upset that she's leaving her Baker Street family rather than that her actual father might be dying, and I think that's because she knows how to live without him. This distance between them, I believe, becomes all the more apparent to her when she goes to London and sees the deep bond held between Iris and Holmes.

And, speaking of, you know who else I think is aware of the distance between them and the part he played in creating that distance? The Great Detective himself, Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

See, I think Holmes has always known about Susato. I'm quite sure that, from the moment they met, he knew that Mikotoba was running away from something and that he had left an infant daughter back home. He just didn't care.

We don't know what Holmes was like when he was younger, but I believe he was a lot closer to how he appears in a lot of modern adaptations and how Watson describes him in some of the Sherlock Holmes stories: the 'cold, calculating computer' character. I don't think it's a stretch to think that Holmes viewed marriage and children as mere distractions and interferences to the mind; and Mikotoba was, presumably, his first real friend. He wasn't going to let something pesky like a baby back home detract from his friend's obviously sterling character and brain! After all, it's a lot easier to ignore this nebulous, abstract entity when you simply consider its existence, and thus its abandonment, unimportant. It's a lot easier when you don't know what it's like to be a father yourself. It's a lot easier when you don't know her.

Here's the thing: I believe Holmes's image of and relation to Mikotoba began changing from the time he started raising Iris. Suddenly, that inconsequential baby seemed to bear quite a bit of consequence, actually. But it was still all right to keep dismissing her, because maybe Mikotoba's baby wasn't special the way Iris was. Maybe she was a brat or an idiot, and really not worth much time at all! Maybe she could've lived without him and been perfectly fine, regardless...? As time went on, I believe the excuses he made for Mikotoba's decision all those years ago became increasingly flimsy, but he was still able to hold onto them because The Daughter was still an indistinct figure in his mind. She wasn't quite real.

That is, until he met her.

In the game, Holmes tends to keep a certain width between himself and Susato. He very rarely initiates conversation with her the way he does Ryuunosuke, and from a Doylist (ha) perspective, this is obviously because Ryuunosuke is... the main character. Looking at it from a narrative perspective, though, I think he was afraid of hurting more than he already has and must.

Holmes is a very resolute man. He sticks by his decisions regardless of what anyone else thinks, so I don't think he ever regretted what he did. However, I do think he felt guilty. Certainly, he didn't quite take her father away from her, but he did play a role in keeping him from her for so long. I think there was a part of him that consciously guided Mikotoba away from thinking about Japan while they lived together, because, well... he didn't want him to leave.

There's an interesting layer to the separation that Holmes creates with Susato, because, beyond the distance he maintains between her and himself, he also keeps her identity separate from her father's. Contrary to how he refers to Ryuunosuke by his last name, Holmes only ever calls Susato "Miss Susato" or "my dear (madame)", and never "Miss Mikotoba". I view this is his way of, perhaps subconsciously, dividing from that little girl he once decided did not matter. And it's interesting because, to an extent, he tries to do with her and Kazuma, too.

In the SS Burya case, despite meeting Susato first and seeing how affected she is by Kazuma's "death", Holmes largely ignores her in favour of focusing on Ryuunosuke and his bond with Kazuma. He calls Kazuma Ryuunosuke's "dear companion" and pretty much only interacts with Susato when he has little other choice... until he sees her cry.

See, I believe that when Holmes found out Susato was going to England and was about to be wrapped up in the whole messy affair, he was fully committed to Not Giving a Damn about Her. Sure, he would let her and Kazuma live with him, but by no means was he going to allow himself to grow attached to her because, again, he values his relationship and history with Mikotoba too much for it to get complicated in this way. Susato's relative composure throughout the case helps him hold on to this resolution; however, when he catches that final conversation between her and Ryuunosuke in the cabin, he is finally forced to see and acknowledge the amount of pain she is truly in. It forces him to at last face the fact that he can't avoid or fake aloofness around her any longer, because she is not some nebulous, distant entity he can continue to ignore. She is an actual girl with a fiercely strong spirit, a brilliant mind and real, human emotions. A girl whom he's hurt twice-over now and must continue hurting until all his lies finally come to light.

When he makes that decision to enter the cabin and console her the only way he knows how, he throws away any hope he had of feeling anything but apathy towards her. In truth, he probably didn't have much hope of that to begin with, because at his core, Sherlock Holmes is a good man, and he cares.

He cares for her, too, even though he may have no right to. How could he not, when she loves him so openly, trusts him so readily, saves his life? How could he not, when she comes to him in the middle of the night with a secret she can't tell anyone else because his judgement is the only one she wholly trusts and believes in? How could he not, when she refuses to accept he lied despite the living, breathing evidence he did until he admits it himself? How could he not, when after everything he has done, she still looks at him the way she always has and says that she's proud that her father is the assistant of "the Great Detective"?

How could anyone not? How could Mikotoba not... love her the second he laid eyes on her?

And of course this doesn't shatter his love for Mikotoba -- he has no right to these feelings in the first place: no matter how indignant or guilty he may feel, it doesn't change the fact that he has been lying to and manipulating her the entire time they've known one another. He can't even bring himself to tell her that he's been lying; he has to go through Ryuunosuke instead, because, even after all this time, he still can't face the woman whom he's done nothing but cause pain for from the moment she was born. When he can't even give her that ounce of respect, who is he to judge Mikotoba?

So he doesn't. Till the end of the game, he keeps Susato at a distance and pretends that everything between him and Mikotoba is as it was from the start. But, inside, I think he knows it isn't. Because I think Holmes can see that Mikotoba doesn't feel half as guilty about what they've done as he does, and that he doesn't view the fact that he left Susato 16 years ago as a real problem. And while he doesn't judge Mikotoba for that, I don't think he can look past it anymore. That final investigation and dance of deduction, to me, is less an assurance that they are still the same partners they were before, and more a final farewell to their old, uncomplicated bond -- the one that did exist before they grew to love other people and understand what love truly meant to both of them.

Going back to the ship itself, I think shipping them pre-DGS works perfectly well. They both had a huge impact on each other's life and changed one another for the better; Holmes by drawing Mikotoba out from his grief, and Mikotoba by pulling Holmes from his life of solitude and loneliness. They needed each other, but it is also because of these reasons that I think there was an issue of codependency between them, hence the semi-horrible for each other box I gave them. With Mikotoba, it's clear cut. Holmes helped him run away from his very real issues at home and allowed him to live like he was a bachelor with zero familial obligations again. With Holmes, it gets a bit more foggy, but I believe that Mikotoba basically allowed him to live believing he was the only person Holmes would ever truly connect with and properly befriend. Holmes is obviously his own person and whatnot, but I do think there was a bit of unhealthy attachment there on his end if not both.

During DGS and post-DGS is where their ship gets more complicated for me, because, while Susato is still very much there at the beginning of their relationship, her role in their lives and what they did to her becomes impossible to ignore once she and Holmes actually meet. I don't believe that they can just pick up from where they left off because there is now (imo) a fundamental disagreement in how they view their actions and how it affected her. So, even if they do go back to being lovers or whatever afterwards, I feel that there should be this chasm or weight between them that they simply don't talk about or acknowledge in any way. Because I don't think they'd discuss it. Holmes because it isn't his place, Mikotoba because he sees it as a non-issue (maybe he doesnt even notice this distance), and both because sweeping unpleasantness under the rug is so ingrained into their cultures.

My main issue with the way this ship is often portrayed post-DGS (why they got a 50-50 on the I would erase them from existence box) is that it ignores what happened with Susato. The few times I've seen the concern that she might have an issue with their relationship even brought up in hmmk works is always because they're gay. Which, like!! Fair!!! It's the 1800s, I get it, but!!!! You're ignoring the actual, very big issue for why she might be hurt and that's because DGS ends with her finding out that three of the men she's closest to have been lying and using her for their own means her entire life!!!!!!!! And she just has to take it!!!!!!!

Which brings me to the second most popular interpretation of this ship which doesn't just put Iris and Susato in a box somewhere unseen, and that's the one where all four of them are a peaceful happy family with 0 issues! And this one bothers me because it seems like it's taking what Susato said at the end of the reveal as what she 100% sincerely meant down to her core, rather than something she had to say because (1) it is her duty to honour her father no matter what, and (2) because Iris was there. When she learns the entire truth, I don't think Susato knows what she truly thinks or feels about any of it; but she sees Iris, and she sees this little girl who was abandoned through her circumstances as a baby, named after her mother, and forced to grow up much sooner than she should have been, and she sees a girl who is more her sister than anyone else. So she does what she always has and tucks away her own emotions so she might tend to someone else's. She has been the perfect daughter her whole life; she can be the perfect sister.

Even if you don't subscribe to the, admittedly, harsh view of Mikotoba's parenting that I do, I don't see how you can get away from the fact that they still lied to her for a significant portion of time. Especially from Holmes, whom she trusted and believed in more than anyone else! In the face of his shoddy deductions, she still held onto her unwavering belief that he was a genius and a good man, and then it comes out that he's just been lying to her from the first day he met her. I just can't extract the ship from their treatment of Susato, so when I say that I would erase the ship from existence, it's mainly about these two bits. As with Asoryuu, the primary reason why I don't ship them personally is because I can't do that to her.

And, obviously, it's just shipping and fun and games, and everyone should feel free to ship whoever in whatever way they want bUT IN A SPECIAL WORLD MADE PERFECTLY FOR ME. iris would be perfectly oblivious, and susato would have tossed both holmes and mikotoba into the thames and left them to figure it out. In a world that must still vaguely make sense with the canon of the game, though, then Holmes would have given Mikotoba the boot and taken the kids; because he may be a coward, but at least I can see that he knows he fucked up, and he allows Susato to set the terms of their relationship, just like he does Iris.

Anyway, I'm so sorry for how long, convoluted and only tangentially-related to the ask this is, but thank you so much for it, Grace!!!! I don't think I quite got down what I meant precisely, but it's the closest to coherency I've ever gotten so. Thank you 💖💕💗💓💕💘💕

#this one's getting TAGGED bc i spent TIME on it & bc ive been trying to articulate my thoughts on holmes & susato for ages #homumiko #susato mikotoba #dgs sherlock holmes #yujin mikotoba #dai gyakuten saiban #the great ace attorney #dgs #tgaa #honestly i feel like i still didnt quite say what i wanted to but this is the best ive got so far. i like the way their relationships are #handled and depicted in canon but the fanon ones just never sat right with me #i feel like i came across as very harsh to yuujin here wjsjdgak i think he's a good man and he did his best!! grief gets the best of us #sometimes. but i cant get over how he seems to show 0 compunction for leaving susato behind as a baby and openly saying without a hint of #'oh i was also ready to be with my daughter finally' that he was FORCED out of london. like???? ALSO the way he says he wants ryuu to go #back with him & leaves susato out to dry??? i know he says it's respecting her freedom and whatnot but doesnt that seem a LITTLE neglectful #in a way? like it can very easily be read as 'oh i dont need you with me' or 'i cant be bothered to worry about you right now' especially #when he's already abandoned her once like. !!!!! and even if you dont view it that way doesnt it seem a bit dismissive of her role in those #cases? susato was crucial to all the cases ryuunosuke won (and he would attest to that) but yuujin makes it seem like it was all ryuu and #just disregards how important susato was there and i. i dont like that.#some might say that i am unfairly biased towards holmes and that's fair. i kind of am wjsdh but the reason why i dont bash on his parenting #as much is because he never pushes iris to love or respect him as her father. he very much leaves that up to her so when iris asserts at #the end that holmes IS her father you know that there is a real sense of love between them. that's why that scene is so important and #that's what validates their father-daughter relationship #ofc u could still argue im biased bc he did leave a 10 y/o to go on a cruise for who knows how long so. yea. valid WKASGAKSH #anyway. thank you SO much and im so sorry i completely went off the rails there. i hope anyone who read everything got... something from it #💕💘💓💖💖💘💖💕❤️💝💞💗💘💞💞💕💓💞💕💖💖💖💖💖💕#sorrry again grace 😔 i hope i came a little close to giving you what you wanted #mikotoba susato #mikotoba yuujin #dgs spoilers

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galilea-naerie · 4 hours ago

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Galilea’s mind wandered often to Rhys. She had grown used to the sound of his voice, the steady strength in his presence. When he had asked her earlier if nymphs required sleep, she had explained simply, “We do, but not in the way humans do. We don’t fatigue as quickly, so if we sleep regularly, three to four hours are enough. But if we push ourselves too long, we might need a much longer rest, sometimes up to twelve hours.” She had noticed the curiosity in his gaze, a silent thirst for understanding her, though his focus always remained tethered to his people and their plight. There was no space for her, and much less being a nymph. Now, hours later, Rhys’s sudden arrival at Aimon’s home pulled her from her thoughts. His voice carried relief, tinged with concern. Galilea offered a small smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “We’ve been working through the night.” She replied warmly. Galilea exchanged a glance with October before turning back to Rhys. “ We have found the cure.” She had barely finished speaking before Rhys crossed the room, scooping her up in his arms and spinning her around. Galilea gasped, laughter escaping her lips as the unexpected boldness of the gesture left her momentarily breathless. When he set her down. Her heart raced, not just from the movement but from the closeness. He smelled of strength, of earth and leather, yet there was a faint sweetness, like honey lingering in the air. The combination was intoxicating, and it perfectly mirrored the man before her. October cleared his throat loudly, breaking the moment. “Bold move there, Rhys,” he teased with a playful smirk. “You trying to sweep her off her feet, or?” Galilea shot October a warning glance but couldn’t stop the flush that crept into her cheeks. Thankful when Rhys questioned what the plan was. Galilea began to explain, regaining her composure. “We’ll make a small incision on the patient and drop a tiny amount of the liquid directly into the wound. Their bodies should react and naturally multiply the antibody, and they’ll likely expel the worms in any way they can. Through vomit, or worse.” They moved quickly. They worked tirelessly, discreetly administering the cure to as many as they could. Some were hesitant, but desperation often won out. Those who had seen loved ones succumb to the disease were willing to try anything. Rhys and Aimon stood by, offering reassurance and solidarity, while October and Galilea carried out the treatments. As the day wore on, Galilea noticed October growing unusually pensive. She had suspected for some time that something weighed on him, and when they finally returned to Aimon’s home, the truth came to light. “I’m staying,” October announced suddenly, breaking the quiet as Galilea packed her belongings. Her hands froze mid motion. “What?” She questioned. “I’m staying,” he repeated, meeting her gaze with a mixture of resolve and vulnerability. “I want to explore what I’m feeling for Aimon. And someone should stay to oversee the healing process and send updates on the disease. I can do that.” Galilea stared at him, stunned. “October…” She searched his face, trying to grasp the weight of his decision. Healing nymphs rarely acted out of personal desire; their purpose had always been singular, helping others. For October to make this choice was both admirable and deeply surprising. “You don’t need to worry,” he said, answering the unspoken questions in her eyes. “I’ll be fine. And Aimon will, well, I’m curious to see where this goes.” She approached him, her expression softening. “You’re sure about this?” Her voice was gentle. “I am,” he said simply. Galilea smiled, though her chest felt tight. She hugged him tightly, holding on for a moment longer than usual. “I’m proud of you. But be careful. It’s not going to be easy.” October chuckled, though there was a hint of nervousness in his voice. “Since when has anything ever been easy?” Releasing him, she glanced at Rhys and Aimon. “Take care of him,” she said firmly.

October, ever the joker, interjected, “They won’t need to. I’ll be the one doing the caring.” Despite herself, Galilea laughed, though her mind was far from at ease. Healing nymphs rarely sought out personal desires, it wasn’t in their nature. Yet October was willing to try, and she couldn’t help but admire his courage. She turned back to her belongings, finishing her packing in silence. The room seemed heavier now, every motion more deliberate as she prepared to leave. When she finally stood at the door, Rhys was there, waiting. She met his gaze. “Well, this is it,” she said, her tone light but her smile faint. “I’m not good at goodbyes,” she admitted. “Say goodbye to Sandrina and Carina for me.” She spoke. Galilea hesitated but then leaned up to hug him. His arms wrapped around him, all strength and hardness. And for a moment, she allowed herself to simply exist in his embrace. He was warm, grounding, and she felt safe for the first time in a long time. “You’re strong, Rhys,” she said softly, her voice muffled against his shoulder. “Your people are so lucky to have you. I’m lucky to have met you.” When she finally pulled back, her dark eyes met his. “Be careful. Whatever lies ahead for your path ahead.” October appeared at the door, holding the reins of her horse. “All set,” he said, though his usual humor was absent. Galilea pulled her cloak tighter around herself and stepped outside. Mounting the horse, she glanced back at Rhys one last time. “Goodbye, Rhys. Take care of yourself.” As she rode into the forest, the weight of their parting settled over her. Returning home felt like a dream, but the thought of leaving Rhys behind made it bittersweet. She pushed the feelings down, focusing on the road ahead. Whatever had begun between them, it would not, could not, be nurtured. But the memory of his embrace, his scent, and his unwavering determination would stay with her.

Rhys smiled at her when he noticed her cheeks warm and she laughed, a sound that he was sure would be etched in his memory until his dying day. It felt exhilarating to make her laugh, to cause her to smile. And what torture it was to feel as though he could not act on it at all. Aimon and October were different people to himself and Galilea. He did not feel he could make such a move on her especially knowing it would not be likely for him to see her again after all this was said and done. That thought gave him an uneasy feeling. Like it was absolutely wrong for him to never see her again, but he knew it was what was meant to happen. Their lives were so different and he had such a calling that he knew he would find himself leading his people in some sort of revolt to success or not. And if not then that would surely mean his death. It would not be for nothing though. He hoped to at least inspire some hope in his people, to help them strive for better together. That was where the gods were most urgently guiding him. "You say it is just soup, but for me it is the meal of a king." And it was. Their food was rarely flavored with more than salt or onion if they managed to grow. The state of his people was that bleak. Once all this was over. That statement seemed to linger heavily above them for a moment. There was the suggestion that they should see each other again. But also the suggestion that there would soon be an end to all of this. Rhys was unfortunately saddled with the knowledge that even if they figured out the cure for the disease plaguing his people and cured them their fight was still far from over. Life would not be able to continue on as it was. They needed more and all of this had only forced right into their laps the knowledge that their king did not care about them and was content to let them die. To what benefit of his own was unknown to the people. And Rhys did not care. It was unacceptable and it would not be allowed to continue. His attention was brought back to her as she talked about the foods of her land and Efaja. They sounded like beautiful and flavorful places. Rhys wished he could see such lands, experience their foods and, maybe, experience what it was like to not be perceived as just the poor plebeian of some kingdom run by yet another human despot. He smiled at her as she stopped herself abruptly, he hadn't minded listening to her talk about such beautiful sounding places. It gave him something to fantasize about, a little way to escape into his mind where he could have some kind of life with her in one of those places. It seemed too ideal for him to ever achieve for himself, but he was happy to know that there were good beings like Galilea that got to experience such beautiful places. "Do you not need rest like humans do?" he asked her, genuinely curious. He knew elves rarely needed sleep, but he knew little about nymphs. He looked to her as she spoke the thoughts he had been having, his doubts about the king. Not even doubts any longer, they were fully grievances with plenty of reason for him to have them. He wanted to respond, to delve further into what he was facing, but soon her fingers were pressed against his wrist feeling his pulse. He felt a temptation to turn his hand and grab her by her wrist and pull her against himself, to hold her there in his arms in that bed and feel her body against his, but the moment was broken by the interruption of October. When the nymph said it was Mrs. Lindly again Rhys quickly rose to his feet and walked into the other room where he was greeted by the widow and also her daughter, Della. The women greeted him warmly, thought noticeably less warmly the two nymphs in his company. "Rhys," Mrs. Lindly started with a smile, "You remember Della, of course." Mrs. Lindly said, but her gaze was more focused on Galilea as she said it. Rhys looked to Galilea who soon dismissed herself and left the room with October leaving Rhys to sit there and make small talk with the two women and catch up with Della, a beautiful woman who he had been childhood friends with.

At one point he might have had a crush on her, but it was long left in his childhood. But the sight of a familiar face was never unwelcome. Especially in times of disease that killed so many. It was relieving to see someone known to you. It was a pleasant enough conversation and it was clear to Rhys what the intention of Mrs. Lindly was in bringing Della over to see him, but for now it was something he did not wish to concern himself with. He would deal with it all once he had dealt with the disease afflicting his people. He saw them out when the conversation eventually died down. Night had fallen and Galilea and October had left, presumably to gather supplies or the like. Rhys had intended to wait up for them, but as he laid on the cot his exhaustion overcame him and he slept through the night. The next morning after checking on Sandrina he brought Carina over to one of the neighbors. The nymphs had not returned and worry had begun to tug at him. He decided to start with Aimon's home and made his way there swiftly. To his relief he found both Galilea and October there as well, "There you are." He said as he walked through the door. "I was worried." He said and looked down at the table where they had been working over night, "Any progress?" He asked. A wave of relief rushed through him when they revealed to him that they had found a cure. He picked Galilea up in his arms and spun her around, but soon caught himself and set her back down. "Sorry, that's just wonderful news. We should start treating people at once. How long do you need to make batches for the sick? What all do you need from me to make it happen?" He asked her, if she needed more of his blood then he would give it to her gladly, whatever it was. Aimon sat up from his bed in the other corner of the room, "Aimon!" Rhys shouted, "You're going to go out of business. They've found a cure!" Rhys announced, true happiness in his voice. Aimon rubbed his eyes and chuckled, "Well, it'll be a welcome break from burying the dead from morning to night. Maybe I'll have energy to do more than sleep." Aimon's eyes shifted over to October and he smiled at the nymph. "Get a room." Rhys teased and looked to Galilea. "Thank you." he told her earnestly, "And now let's get to work." He told her. Many batches were made and soon Rhys began taking Galilea and October out to treat the sick. Everyone welcomed the aide, some cautious and skeptical at first, but soon relenting when they realized there weren't many other options except to wait and die if they did not try the cure. Through these visits Rhys was quickly learning that he was not the only one with his sentiments about the king and it was becoming more and more evident to him that something would need to be done with the anger born of grief that their entire people were experiencing.

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