#and overhaul made a friend
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Wanted to tell you that YES while all that happened bakugo is (even tho being held by multiple people) just laying on the ground for multiple chapters
it's incredibly funny to me bc like irl it's been. almost a year since that chapter came out. and he's been lying there the whole time. he's one of my favorite characters but tbh i really want the story to finally cut back to him and have edgeshot pop back out and go "yeah no there's nothing i can do he fuckin dead" bc it would be so freaking funny.
ofc it'd also be pretty bad writing but that's neither here nor there
#bnha#bnha spoilers#i stopped reading the manga back in like 2018 or something#i think it was a bit before the ''joint training arc'' or w/e#anyway since i stopped reading all i know is bits of what people mention that i bother to read#so basically: bakugou died (two whole time) kurogiri was always dead (zombie nanny) and the villains are still more likeable than most pros#also dabi is todoroki's older brother but literally everyone knew that since the dawn of time so that doesn't really count#also apparently genderbent captain america showed up but then died#and overhaul made a friend#also togachako might become canon which is the most important thing#having said that: i keep seeing ''toga redemption'' getting tossed around#fuck that! uraraka corruption!#go girl tear the society that trapped your family in poverty and forbid you from using your quirk to help to the ground!#rip maim kill etc#also aoyama is the traitor which is stupid#i still say it should've been hagakure. and that she shouldn't have felt bad about it#let 1-a deal with a friend with a fundamentally incompatible ideology you cowards#oh and also apparently horikoshi is just snipping bits of aizawa off whenever he gets bored or something idk
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If you sincerely think Shigaraki would be an abusive partner, I’m going to assume you read the manga with your eyes closed.
#he helped Mr Compress get back at Overhaul#and avenged Magne#he promised to protect their ideals#he fought an entire army because they kidnapped Giran and were playing with Twice’s emotions#he used the newly found money to buy compress sushi after Mr compress made one single comment about it#he made sure the PLF members knew that the League members were just as important and are to be treated as such#one of his last moments was him declaring how he cares for the league and how he wanted to make the world better for them- to be their hero#he wanted Deku to comfort spinner- his best friend- bc he new he’d need it#do you honestly think…. he would ever mistreat… someone he is IN LOVE with???????#sorry I needed to rant lol#he would be so pathetically in love are you kidding me#bnha#boku no hero academia#my hero academia#mha#league of villains#shigaraki#tomura shigaraki#tomura#shigaraki tomura
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hani sensei and her dork ass kids (kimiko, shoga and taro)
#sharking draws#naruto#naruto oc#kimiko yuwaku#shoga sharking#taro sharking#taro umino#hani sharking#okay TECHNICALLY these guys were made during various stages of naruto#like shoga and taro were made specifically as boruto ocs#taro was irukas son and shoga was ankos adopted son#kimiko was made when i was 11 and had a total overhaul#hani i made with friends for an rp server#and now im mashing them all together into a team for my own entertainment#playing barbie dream house in my brain with these guys
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💖 Day 3.5 is now available! 💖
For the last couple of months, only Server Boosters had access to the 3.5 update... Buuuuut now it's available for everyone to play in the 14DWY Discord — and soon itch.io once I'm happy with the QA and state of the game — so please don't feel pressured to join unless you want to!!
The full devlog + even more screenshots are under the cut ^^
What's been added to the 3.5 version?
�� Streamer Mode!
I've been told that it's difficult to stream and monetise age-restricted videos on YouTube and Twitch, so I added an option to remove the sexual content and strong language used in the demo.
Now y'all can invite Ren into your bed for cuddles without putting your streamer career on the line /silly /lh
This won't affect the 18+ rating or dark themes/elements of the game, however! Although Streamer Mode will prevent you from seeing any "gruesome" CGs in the future, most of the core elements of the game will still be tied to the choices and decisions you make. So you won't miss out on the overall experience by using streamer mode!!
⚙️ Custom Pronouns!
It only took me one entire year to get around to it, but you can finally choose your own preferred pronouns (or use a set of pronouns instead)... At the cost of being able to change them mid-game ^^;
Since the original pronoun screen wouldn't update until a new scene was displayed, I temporarily disabled the feature. But once I find a workaround, I'll bring it back!
💗 Choose how others perceive you!
You can now choose how the cast and narration perceive you! Originally, the narration was kept strictly gender-neutral (outside of pronouns and genitalia picked by the player), but this will soon change in future updates.
For more clarity: you don't get to choose the words specifically, but you can choose between masculine, feminine, and androgynous terms!
📋 Separate top and bottom genitalia!
You can now choose your tatas and pps separately! >:3
Alongside that, you can also choose your preferred body type!
I removed the "both" genitalia option because a few players still assumed it was an obscure version of "intersex". That wasn't my intention and I don't want to mislead anyone, so I took it out for now ^^;
I also didn't want to include a screenshot of the new genitalia choices in action (because it's NSFW), so y'all get the same character menu screen for the nth time instead lmao
📱 Relationship Screen Overhaul!
You can now change your own status for more immersion, and long-term Server Boosters will eventually be able to submit and use their own icon within the game as well!
Stalking finding your friends has now become easier by using "Buddy Maps"; a new app that allows you to see the location of all the cast members!
I want to offer players more incentive to check the relationship screen since they tend to miss the status updates, so hopefully this might help ;v;
It also says it "updates every few hours" so folks don't go overboard and check every 5 seconds to see where Ren is gdsghf (also keep in mind that he's a hacker lol)
🖤 Additional Scenes Update!
Day 2 received a brand new CG!!!!! Originally, I planned on only adding a few CGs sporadically throughout the game, but it didn't feel right to leave Day 2 so... empty... so I added a brand new CG to (hopefully) make things feel more balanced and natural!
If you decline Teo's offer on Day 3, Leon will now call and try to convince you to reconsider. However, players are still allowed to decline, and if they do, they'll reach a dead end.
After listening to feedback on itch, I changed some of the dialogue during Days 1-3 to make it seem more consistent! They're only small changes though, so it's honestly not worth looking for sdgjssga
🎶 Updated BGM and SFX!
I wanted to try out a different style of music to see if it fits the vibe of 14DWY more! The BGM features more acoustics to suit the "beachy" theme of Corland Bay, though I made a conscious effort to include piano elements as well to stay true to the original!!
I figured it'd be better to give players a live example before I make a poll (to see if they prefer the change or not) and publish it to Itch.
Some new SFX have also been added, though it's very minimal and honestly not that noticeable.
How to download and play the update?
(warning: clicking on the following links will open Discord!!) To download the Day 3.5 update, simply join the 14DWY Discord server, verify your age, and visit the "14dwy-updates" channel!
Alternatively, you can also wait until the update is publicly released on Itch to play it as well!! (It normally gets released shortly after a round of QA testing/getting feedback from the server, though I may release it earlier if I feel like it hehe ^^)
Enjoy!!
#14 days with you#14dwy#💖 — 14 days with queue.#🖤 — updates.#🖤 — spoilers.#I'm not gonna say much about my current doxxing situation because I've got it under control now + it's being handled privately#Plus I don't wanna give it/the people involved any unnecessary attention. I just wanna announce the update and Get Back To It™️#(''it'' bein the grind 💪 It never stops lmao /silly)#OG followers will also know that these topics aren't the vibe I normally have on this blog (or any of my accounts); so I don't think I'll—#—make ANOTHER public post about the situation and bring more attention to it (when I just want everything to be over and put to rest ^^;)#However I also don't want people to think that I'm... ignoring?? the situation entirely (because gettin doxxed is a very endangering thing)#So I DO want to quickly acknowledge it here and say that it's all currently handled + I'm safe and okay + this won't stop me from—#—continuing to work on 14DWY (and other future projects). I also don't want to give these awful people more power and incentive to continue#—this kind of pathetic behaviour; so the less attention and encouragement being shown will ultimately be better in the long run :3#Aaaaaanways!! 😮💨#My other accounts will be restored shortly and my askbox will be opened once I feel comfortable. I'll get around to following folks—#—again in my own time; so please don't feel offended if I unfollowed you during a moment of vulnerability and anxiety!!#This is all EXTREMELY overwhelming and scary for someone with SAD/AvPD; and I /gen can't handle seeing it all over my timeline ;v;#Sorry this got ranty and personal again hjdsgjsdh T_T I said I wouldn't say much; so I'll shut up now hehe#🖤 — shut up sai.
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"persona 2 remakes would be pretty cool you know i love persona 2 personally but theyre not very accessible both from an accessibility for disabled people pov and from the pov of someone who doesnt want to emulate, not to mention the gameplay has aged immensely and some elements are really questionable a-" [remembering the presence of both queerness & a fat character and the very distinct absence of (& bigotry towards) these groups in persona 5] "you know what nevermind."
#i do mean remake more along the lines of ff7 remake#if they just overhaul the combat & graphics id be fine#but there is a degree of concern???? that they might???? incorporate????? the stuff in p5 that makes me as a queer fat person??? uncomfy??#p2(is) wasnt perfect but most of its fatphobia is framed as a bad thing instead of just a haha boys being boys moment#(aka why does ryuji keep telling ann to stop eating or shell get fat shut the fuck up i am so tired)#and i know its just me being paranoid & very hesitant about change but hehrjtmhhrm#i dont expect them to remake p1 & p2 mind you. i just think if they did they would fuck it up#at best wed get a shitty port a la p3p & smt3 that make you wonder why ur not just emulating the original#(because it sounds better)#(what the fuck is that audio quality p3p remaster im genuinely asking)#for a minute i also thought about being concerned about eikichi's gnc vibe but then i remembered what the smtv protagonist looks like#could you imagine them adding like. a beach sequence to p1 & p2. could you imagine#p2is as a game could never exist in a post-p5 world not just because of. um. the out of pocket bullshit#but also because of all the smaller stuff. the smaller stuff atlus fails at to make the friend group seem more. friend groupy#because fatshaming ur friend is totally a fun and nice thing to do!!#i do like p5 dont get me wrong im having a blast and the mechanics are fantastic but the uh. sometimes i almost like the friend dynamic#& then ryuji says some out of pocket bullshit about ann and im reminded that this game was not made with me in mind#granted i havent finished p2is so maybe it just goes completely off the rails at some point past where im at but so far?#the lack of continuous fat jokes being played off for laughs is refreshing
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Patch Updates
As always delete old Mods Files and the localthumbcache, when updating my Mods!
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Make sure to download the updated XML Injector when you Patch your Game!
Patch 1.110.265 Updates (All other Mods should still be compatible!):
Advanced Birth Certificate Anti Heat Pill (Pets) Autonomous Gardening Autonomous go Jogging when Sims are Stressed & Children can Jog too Better Butler (and Hire more Butler) Better Nanny (Second Nanny & more) Calendar Tweaks Carryable Performance Stage plus Sing Songs! Collectibles (Rock Digging) Rework (Slower/Harder) Flea Market appears every Sunday Food Delivery Service Go for a Walk with Cats Healthy Drinks Hire certain Vet Employees Hire certain Sims (incl. Family Members) at Restaurants Housewarming Party (instead of Welcome Wagon) Improved Kids Night Light Improved Practical Spells Kids can go for a Walk with Dogs Let Friends Age Up More Away Actions More Buyable Venues and new Venue Types More Woodworks My Little Neighborhood Objects don't share Inventory Parenting Skill for Teens & more Personal Objects (Computer, Tablets & more) Power Napping on Sofas Pregnancy Overhaul - Pregnancy Belly Part Pregnancy Overhaul - Can do more Part Retail Overhaul - Hire certain Employees Part Retail Overhaul - Go Shopping – More Options Part Sell more self made Woodwork at the Flea Market Sleep In Small Archaeology Overhaul Small Invite to Hang Out Overhaul Teach me the Rumbasim
Random Small Mods
Auto Grab Drink when Eating Purchased Items delievered via Mail Keyboard Piano sounds Copy Graduation Photos and Diplomas Better Power Water Production Higher Skill Faster Candle Making Bouncer Only Homeless Sims Fan Stans Only Homeless Sims New Hug Animation If Confident No Auto Club Gathering (Active Household) Horse Jump Parkour Teen Can Buy Lottery Ticket NPCs Auto Massage & Meditation Vampires No Cold Breath Lower Fire Chance Vacuum Time and Autonomy Changes Release all Ghosts & Get Urn for
Random Bug Fixes
Deliver Baby at Hospital Elevator Fix for Toddler & Pets Murphy Beds Fix Trait Buff Fixes Weather NPC Deaths
Probably obsolete, pls remove and test without it:
Stop Eating Spoiled Food Fix
EA patch fixed that in 1.110.265 "Sims will not eat spoiled food autonomously."
Other adopted Mods
Always keep a Doctor at Hospital Change Into Towel Everywhere Faster Gardening Homework Tweaks Immortality Potion Tweaks Keep Books after Publishing Kiss Neck for Adults More traumatic divorce for Children Play Cards Anywhere Subject Homework Tea for Children Violin & Guitar Bugfixes
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My Site with all possible Download Links: lms-mods.com
Support Questions via Discord only please!
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Result from the Pleistocene Cuba #paleostream! SO many cool creatures from here, and we JUST missed them, mostly because well, ourselves
Here the labeled version. This one was rather easy to research because i already ad done most of the research for a island size chart years ago.
This one. The only overhaul that was really needed was Antigone cubensis, the flightless crane, for which it is really hard to come by the original description.
Thankfully @albertonykus was able to provide and another friend quickly made this graphic showing some of the proportional differences between it ant its modern relatives.
#paleoart#sciart#paleostream#palaeoblr#cube#pleistocene#crane#flightless#crocodile#cuban croc#stork#sloth#giant owl#owls#ornimegalonyx
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the pushback against the discord mobile update shouldn’t be based upon “if you can get used to it” or not. some people might like it. some people might get used to it faster. but a lot of people won’t. and the point of the pushback is that discord keeps thinking they can change this shit and get away with it.
nobody asked for discord to change its color to a brighter blue. remember that? we all got used to it. but that was one of the first instances of the userbase just tolerating a useless change.
later came the dreaded username change. nobody asked for that. in fact, it caused a fuck ton of trouble. remember the markipkier username situation? yeah. but we all just “got used to it.” i don’t hear anyone talking about it anymore. we moved on, even though it really fucking sucked.
now it’s a complete overhaul of the mobile app that removed pretty much everything people liked about discord in the first place. removing the right swipe to see members and pins just made everything clunky and slow. the swipe to reply they replaced it with doesn’t even work all the time. the nice and cozy gray is now colder and darker, which would be fine, but there’s literally a midnight mode that they just released out of beta after 7 years. (edit: i actually used the app for a little more and realized just how fucking hard it was to read anything with the new contrast. it's a genuine accessibility issue. jesus)
they removed the community. want to see which friends are online? fuck you! click the top of the channel that is much slower and cumbersome than just swiping! want to see the funny and/or important messages you pinned? too bad, because we’re cutting off longer messages and hiding links/images that were attached to the message. and also, you can’t see who sent the message in a dm or group chat. also^2, you have to click into the channel and click into ANOTHER tab to even access the pins. fuck you.
regardless of if you like the changes or not, the point of protesting isn’t due to personal preference. it’s that discord keeps thinking they can change this shit that nobody wanted and get away with it. staying complacent will just let them know they can roll out changes and their userbase will still stick around, even if they hate it. which is not true. because users (including my friends and i) and even NITRO USERS are considering jumping ship to alternatives that don’t hate its userbase.
don’t let discord think it’s invincible. send feedback (go to settings and appearance, and there will be a button), even if it’s likely they won’t read it. review them in the app store. if there’s enough genuine feedback that outlines the faults and focuses on the performance and usability of the app, there’s a chance they might change Some things. because we don’t WANT to move and leave all our friends and communities, but a lot of us will have to if the situation gets worse.
the best case scenario is that they let us choose the format we want, but considering that this is discord we’re talking about, i don’t think it will. the least we can do now is to make sure at least some things get changed back for accessibility and convenience.
#discord#sorry for the long rant but. the complacency pisses me off#i also wanted to say this sucks especially for people who arent lucky enough to have a computer but i forgot oops#so in the tags it goes#rant#kiwi’s calls
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I like the idea of a shy reader who’s sort of a people pleaser and easily pressured— so König meets them and when they don’t say anything about his ‘habits’ or when he gets you to agree to something he’s fucking ecstatic. (He also wonders what else he can get you to ‘agree’ with. Man has nasty habits.)
You're just....you just don't like conflicts. You don't want to make people mad, you don't want to anger anyone. One time your friend made some nasty comment about the way you were dressed, and you made sure to overhaul your entire wardrobe so it would never happen again. One time, your other friend asked to go on a date with a creepy guy who was texting her - just so he could be thrown off their tail, so you agreed. Now you got yourself a Konig. And Konig got himself adorable, non-confrontational you. You're just this type of person. He asks if he can get some of your lingerie for his personal collection - he fucking parades it in front of you, saying it's just lucky charm for the mission - and you give him your favorite ones, not wanting him to get angry. You exist to make everyone feel good, apparently, and Konig drinks in your affection. Especially since you obviously look uncomfortable - he loves to know he can press on your every button and won't set you off, he adores the way you would always bend over for him. This guy is traumatized; he is scared of commitment and relationships - he doesn't want a partner unless they are willing to completely abandon their comfort so he can love them as deeply and obsessively as possible. He can spend hours talking to you about his favorite missions. About people he killed, cities he destroyed - you would always look so scared and uncomfortable, he giggles as he gently caresses you with hands that killed hundreds of men. He gives you gifts that are worth thousands of Euros - it's blood money, but you can't just refuse. He easily pressured you into moving with him as fast as possible, even though you are a bit too scared of him doing that - but, then again, you do understand that you don't really have a choice on the matter.
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Prologue and Chapter One Release| 41k words total, varies per play through
DEMO LINK
I am so sorry that it has taken me this long to write even just the first chapter and prologue. Unfortunately this year has been a lot, and it took me a while to get back into the swing of things because of a severe writers block, but I made it! Of course I realized after looking that the prologue is definitely a chapter in it's own right with how long it is, so uh, sorry about that. It is not quite up to what I would like but if I do not meet my self imposed deadlines I will explode, so expect updates, bug fixes and edits over the next few months. Anyways, after having gone through 2/4 of my midterms and a complete last-minute overhaul of the personality stats and flashbacks (I did test most things, it should work but please report bugs, typos, ect.) The prologue and first chapter are finally done and out. Once again, I am so, so damn happy that I can share this, and I can't wait for y'all to read it.
Non-spoiler content warnings for these chapters: Emetophobia (there is nothing actually there but just in case), paranoia, Implied depiction of mental illness, memory loss, and hallucinations (?)
(Minor spoilers) What happens in these chapters...
Get called in on your day off
Go back home and run into some old friends (and enemies)
Reminisce about trying not to throw up in a burger joint parking lot (again there is no actual vomit) and the case that killed all of your closest friendships
Read an old diary!
Try to ignore the constant presence haunting your dreams!
Go to a library!
"Dude we're getting the band back together!"
#misty cove if#demo release#interactive fiction#if game#return to misty cove#twine if#twine game#misty cove-if#twine wip#twine interactive fiction#interactive novel
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IN EARNEST; J.WW
―PAIRING: jeon wonwoo x fem!reader, yoon jeonghan x fem!reader ―GENRE: regency au, romance, fluff, angst, love triangle, childhood friends to lovers ―WORD COUNT: 13k ―WARNINGS: rigid gender roles, historical setting, angst & family in-fighting
―AUTHOR'S NOTE: this fic was rewritten from one on my old blog. it was majorly overhauled and i added around 1k worth of words. its one of my favourites, so i would appreciate hearing any thoughts you might have on it. please enjoy
The long, warm rays of the sun stretch over the fields of your childhood as you sit on the stone fence at the edge of your family’s estate, legs swinging in a manner unbefitting a young woman soon to be engaged. A gentle spring breeze stirs at your hair, blowing over you as it moves westward across the countryside on its journey as you sit, book in hand, wrapped in the warmth of the afternoon light. Words dance on the page before your eyes as you try and focus on the story, pulling your attention into the narrative only to have it drawn back out towards the horizon over the golden fields of wheat and rye. With a sigh, you snap the book shut and slip from atop the rock wall, landing on the soft earth below.
Skirts dragging against the long grass as you walk, you make your way through the field--wheat stalks brush against your bare arms, parting for you as you stride forward past the cows and sheep and towards an old grove of trees tucked back at the edge of the property by the meandering creek where you spent so many of your days in childlike rapture and leisure. Amongst the flurry of balls, social gatherings, and visits expected of you these days, you’ve hardly had a spare moment to come and sit among the trees for the past few years. Social propriety and demands have all but replaced the imagination of your youth and yet the trees welcome you in as an old friend–beckoning you forth into their shade and kissing your cheeks with the morning dew.
One old tree, of gnarled roots and rough bark, sits chief among them in the center of the grove. Images of your sister and you swinging from its long branches and knotted limbs spring to mind as you stride closer. Days long past spent nestled amongst its jutting roots for a midday picnic without a care for the mud on the hems of your dresses. With a smile you walk towards the tree, hand outstretched in greeting, and feel your way across the trunk. The knots and rough bark ripple under your fingers--a map of the tree's life spread out under your touch, and you move around it until you meet a familiar dip in the bark. A carving of a memory long forgotten.
Your fingers trace the loops of the heart, the curves of the letters, and a face swims into your vision to join your childhood self as she runs through the fields and trees. A boy of honey brown hair and an even sweeter voice with whom the days seemed to stretch onwards into infinity. A boy you had made promise you at 11 years old that he would marry you when you were both older so that you could live together until eternity. A boy with the spark of love buried in the dark browns of his eyes, obscured by the frames of his wire glasses, waiting for age and maturity to bring it to the forefront. A boy who just smiled, laughed, and chased you through the dawn soaked fields until you both collapsed from exhaustion by the river. A boy who leaned over with a soft smile some long hours later and whispered “I promise.”
The promises of youth are delicate. They are made in the heat of summer, under the swell of the sun and the naive feelings that blossom in the hearts of every young person as they grow and change with daily discoveries. They are a glass vase, thin and ready to be broken–or simply tucked away on a high shelf to be left forgotten and collecting dust as time obscures them.
Now, standing in the dawning of your adulthood in the place of your youth, that promise is but a lingering nudge at the edge of your mind–a loose thread dangling free in the wind, waiting to be tugged on and unraveled. The boy stands with it, a denizen of the memory of a time when the sun shone down on you in smiles and in hope, lighting up your world with the wide-eyed exhilaration of young love.
You smile down at the carved imprint of a heart, transported back for a moment to that time, before someone clears their throat behind you, “what are you doing out here?” You spin on your heels, body moving unconsciously to shield the glyph from prying eyes, and see Jeonghan standing at the edge of the grove–sunlight filtering down through the tree tops and sprinkling him in flecks of golden light. He stands with a wry grin, arms crossed over his chest as he watches you regain your composure after the sudden interruption of your daydreams.
“Nothing,” you reply after a moment with a light laugh, returning his smile–closing the lid on your memories as you take a step towards him. “Just out for a walk.”
“Well, don’t wander too far,” he extends his arms for you to take and you accept, looping your arm through his and walking side by side out of the shade of the tree grove and into the sunlight. “You might not be able to find your way back.”
“I think I know my own family’s grounds, thank you,” you counter, peeking up at him as he stares ahead towards the estate in the distance, sprawling out over the field in a mass of grey stone. The wry smile has softened slightly, but still remains pulling gently at the corners of his lips.
You hadn’t known what to make of Jeonghan the first time he stood off to the side of the village ball. New to the community by way of both work and friends, he was a source of fascination and aversion in equal measure by everyone in town. A community where everyone had known everyone and everyone was in everyone’s business made a newcomer stick out like the sorest of thumbs. You watched as he stood, making polite yet stiff conversation with the men of the village and keeping largely to himself until your mother, not one to ever waste an opportunity, strong-armed your father into introducing the entire family to him.
He seemed to sense in you a kindred spirit–someone there in a similar situation, bemused but disconnected from the gossip and frivolity of the ball. Placed at the center of it all regardless by mere social expectation and family ties. You spoke for a while, easing minute by minute from fateful acquaintances to fast friends, until you both succumbed to decorum and he asked for a dance; after which your mother adopted him immediately as a friend of the family and he has not known a moment of peace since.
A fact which you love to tease him about at any given opportunity.
“What are you doing out here today, Jeonghan?” You ask as you walk past the cows grazing in the field, arm still tucked securely into the crook of his elbow.
“Your father asked me round to discuss the merger of the mill in town,” he shakes his head and you laugh at what you can only imagine was an incredibly dry conversation. “Dreadfully boring. Then your mother noticed you wander off into the woods and sent me to fetch you.”
“Scandalous,” you tease, nudging your elbow into his side and eliciting a brief laugh. “A young man and woman out to pasture together? Unchaperoned and unmarried? My mother must really trust you.”
“Yes, well if only she knew that the only reason I agree to come and talk to your father about all of this nonsense is to have the chance to speak with you,” the teasing lilt in his voice doesn’t go unnoticed; you can tell it’s meant as a joke, but there is an air of truth to it as well and the comment sinks under your skin, stilling the air around you. Suddenly, his arm against yours feels too real, too solid. You feel altogether too close to him and yet not close enough. You glance up and see his gaze still fixated forward towards your home, the sunlight gleaming over him and bathing him in the golden light of its rays.
“When do you return to town?” you shift the conversation, eager for a reprieve from the constricting of your heart in your chest.
“In three days time,” he replies, releasing your arm to step through the gate into the gardens–holding it open for you to pass through behind him.
“So soon?” you glance at him in surprise. In the month he had been here, visiting in the afternoons and attending dinner parties, he had not made mention of the date of his inevitable return to town, so hearing the answer now was a slight shock.
Jeonghan nods, and you loop your arm through his once more as you ascend the stone pathway towards the front of the house. “Unfortunately,” he sighs, “it was meant to be next month but I’ve been called away sooner than I had planned.”
“I see.” Your voice trails off and you slip your arm free from his as you step through the doorway. A strange sense of melancholy takes over, sweeping the sunshine away from your thoughts and replacing them with the grey clouds that precipitate a sky before a storm. In barely two months time, you’ve come to enjoy Jeonghan’s company and his consistent appearances in your daily life. They became a comfort to you in a way you hadn’t felt from anyone’s company in a long time. Not since you were young, running wild and free without thought of propriety or the looming threat of your future.
“I was hoping, actually, to talk with you before I left,” he starts, breaking through the clouds in your mind. You can hear the hesitation clear in his voice as he talks, a small shy smile painting his handsome features.
“About what?” The heat of curiosity builds in your mind, swirling thoughts joining the fray. A buzzing excitement building as you watch him formulate the words–the wheels in his mind turning into place behind his soft brown eyes. He’s building to something, grasping onto a thread of courage and you silently pray that he manages to keep hold as you feel your heart rise into your throat. His fingers twitch at his side, as if fighting the urge to reach for your hand and you feel your skin prickle at the thought.
“I was hoping–” Jeonghan starts but is cut off just as quickly as your sister, Lydia, comes crashing through the parlour shouting your name, skirts billowing behind her. She skids to an abrupt halt as she sees you and Jeonghan both staring back at her.
“H-hello, Mr. Yoon, I didn’t–umm,” she thumbs the letter clutched in her hand, nerves plain on her face as she tries to regain some sense of calm after her frantic entrance, “I didn’t realise you were still here.” She offers an awkward curtsy in his direction and you can hear the stifled laughter as he bows back.
“Hello Ms. Lydia, I trust you are well?”
“Very, thank you,” she nods, swallowing, and you have to stifle your own laugh at the awkwardness seeping out of her and infecting the room. She turns towards you, eyes pleading, “may I speak with you a moment?”
You glance at Jeonghan and he smiles, “I should be going.” All hints of what he had been planning on saying before the interruption are wiped clear from his expression and you can’t help the slight bitterness towards your sister that rises in your stomach like bile as he turns to leave.
“Your mother invited me for dinner tomorrow evening before I take my leave,” he adds, hand on the brass knob of the door, “I hope we can finish talking then.” With a final nod and smile he closes the door behind him–you watch through the window as he walks down the stone pathway towards his horse before your sister calls your attention back to her with a pointed cough.
“Did he ask you?” she asks, eyebrows raised in curiosity.
“Ask me what?” you move away from the entrance and flop down onto the plush cream settee at the side of the room–legs grateful for the relief after an afternoon spent traipsing through the fields outside.
“Don’t be daft, I know that you know full well he is planning on proposing to you,” she sits down next to you in a huff, splaying her skirts out below her and knocking you on the shoulder with a closed fist–envelope still clutched tight in her hand, but evidently forgotten for the moment.
“Oh, I didn’t realise you were in his confidence regarding the matter,” you tease, drawing a flustered expression from her as she pouts at you.
“I don’t need to be to know,” she grumbles, “everyone says. Especially Mama.”
The rumours had been circulating since that first ball and you were not oblivious to them. It would be impossible to be oblivious when the gossip that roamed through the village was as subtle as a bull. But rumours were just that: rumours. Unsubstantiated whisperings passed around by bored mamas and nosy servants at parties and in parlours, and you preferred to keep your hopes out of their baseless grasp as long as you were able to. You couldn’t deny, however, that the hope was there. That it had wound its way into your heart, filling your mind and soul with a buoyancy you hadn’t anticipated to feel.
The thought of Jeonghan in front of you, extending his hand for yours, and asking to keep it forever is a thought that you couldn’t deny having had more than once.
But you were not going to give your prying sister the satisfaction of knowing this. Instead you stare deadpan at her as she sits with a pout on her face, waiting for a reaction. The standoff continues for a moment in silence before she resigns and sighs, thrusting the letter she had been clutching in her hand towards you, “here, it’s for you.”
You pluck the paper from and examine the envelope–torn open already by prying fingertips and eyes. “You opened it?” The accusation is more tired than biting, but she cowers under it anyway–crossing her arms in defence.
“No,” she huffs, crossing her arms over her chest in a decidedly unladylike manner–a habit of which your mother had tried to scold out of her for years now. “Mama opened it.”
“And then you read it,” you sigh, running your eyes over the script of the envelope. Handwriting both familiar and unfamiliar. A name you haven’t seen in years scrawled in the top left corner in looping cursive–Jeon Wonwoo. Your heart leaps into your throat at the sight, your sister's protestations fading into background noise, as you focus on the name written on the sheet of white before you–transfixed by memory and recognition.
“Are you listening to me?” Lydia’s voice bleeds through the swell in your mind as you slip the letter out of the envelope–delicately, as if it might crumble to dust at the barest whisper of a breath–and unfold it in your hands. You brush aside her attempts at getting your attention and fix your gaze on the words unfolding on the page.
Dearest ______,
Firstly, I hope you receive this letter in good health, and that your family is well. I am sorry we never kept up correspondence as we had promised when I first left for the city. I have so much to tell you and yet I feel that most of it is entirely pointless, so it might be better left unsaid for now; at least until we are able to speak in person.
I’m not sure when this letter will arrive, but my intention is for it to precede my own arrival by at least a day or so. I had been planning on visiting for quite some time, but it was a thought always pushed to the back of my mind as life and present matters took over, but receiving your letter resurfaced the desire to return.
I must say your letter was a slight shock, but certainly not an unwelcome one. Truthfully, there hasn’t been a day that has passed that I have not thought of you or of the time we spent together as children and adolescents. I hadn’t dared to hope that you remembered, or even returned the feelings that I had held close to my heart since those days, but reading your words brought that hope back to life.
I look forward to seeing you again at last,
Yours Truly,
Wonwoo
You sit in silence for a moment, staring blank faced down at the letter as your sister leans over your shoulder trying desperately to read the lines of ink scrawled delicately over the page. “Well,” she whines, giving up on the task, “what does it say?”
Without a glance spared in her direction, you stand up and race out of the parlour–brushing past your confused mother as you dart up the staircase towards your bedroom.
“Oh, did you get the letter?” your mother calls after you as you run, leaning over the bannister, but you staunchly ignore her as you careen into your room to tear into the trunk at the foot of your bed. No mind paid for the mess you’re creating as you pull out ribbons, books, and trinkets from the large, ornately carved wooden box. Buried at the bottom of the trunk lies a small box of letters, hidden from the prying eyes of your family–or at least you had thought it was hidden from the prying eyes of your family. Looking now, as you sit splayed out on the floor of your bedroom amongst a haphazard pile of items, it’s clear that it has been rifled through since the last time you had bothered to check it.
From amongst the pile of letters hidden away amongst your treasures and belongings, only one is missing. One tear-stained, hastily written piece of parchment snatched from the stack of otherwise inconsequential papers by the fingers of someone who was incapable of minding their own business or of leaving well enough alone.
“Don’t be mad,” your sister’s voice pleads from behind you as she stands in the doorway playing with her fingers, watching your back as you begin to gather up your things with a sigh–tossing them back into the trunk and closing the lid with a snap before turning to face her.
A slow seeping mixture of anger and embarrassment has overcome your thoughts and swells near to bursting as you glare at her through a fog of red. She opens her mouth to speak, fear dancing in her eyes as she scrambles for some words that might placate you. Tries to form some meagre explanation for her actions. You take advantage of her immobility and move towards her with a fury you didn’t know you possessed. A moment before you can catch her sleeves she turns and races down the hallway, leaping down the staircase, and hiding behind your bewildered mama–a desperate shield from your wrath.
A sliver of clarity leeches through the haze surrounding you, sounding out like a bell through your angered mind, and instead of reaching for her with clawing hands like you’re itching to, you push past them and stalk straight through the front door and out into the gardens. A light drizzle of rain has begun to fall in the time between your walk through the fields and now, but you pay it no mind–only too grateful for the company of the raindrops alongside the tears that begin to fall from your eyes.
You can hear the door open and close behind you, footsteps crunching along the dirt and gravel of the path you are currently trodding on towards no destination, but you don’t give them the satisfaction of turning. Instead you pick up your pace, hastening your already brisk gait until you’re nearly running towards the creek at the edge of the estate–searching for some escape, some reprieve, from the suffocating presence of your family to gather the frayed edges of your tormented mind.
Missing the hint as usual, they persist. Voices call out from behind you, entreating you to turn and face them but the pleas and demands only serve to heighten the flush of rage through your veins.
By the time you reach the edge of the water your body is shaking. Whether from the cold or the overwhelming emotions you’re not sure. You stand, staring out over the water as it rushes downstream, blinking away the tears stinging at your eyes. “Oh, will you stop being so dramatic,” your mother finally catches up with you–her curls and skirts soaked in water and mud, a fact of which you know you will never hear the end of. “Apologise to your sister.”
You baulk at her, mouth gaping with shock and horror, “me? Apologise to her?”
“Yes, you scared her,” she nods, arms crossed and eyes set in a determined stare, “besides, you shouldn’t be racing down the stairs like a child at your age. Not when you are so close to being engaged, just think; what would your fiance say about this behaviour?”
“I don’t have a fiance,” you shoot back, mirroring her stance, “and if I did, and if he were a man of any brains at all, he would say I have every right to wring her neck for what she’s done.”
“Mama,” Lydia whines, still hiding behind the impenetrable figure standing before you in rain-soaked linens. “I didn’t do anything wrong, I just sent out a letter.”
“A letter that was never yours to send,” you shout, earning yourself a withering glare from your mother. Thunder rumbles in the far distance and you sigh, feeling the rain as it falls against your tired limbs and a tired mind. The idyl of the morning feels so far away now. Jeonghan’s easy smile, the light filtering through the grove, the feeling of the rough bark under your fingertips. A morning of reminiscence scrubbed away so easily by the foolishness of one insolent sister. All the hope that had lifted in your chest now falling away from you with each raindrop and disappearing into the ground below.
You open your eyes to watch your mother standing in defence of the sister that might have ruined both your past and future. All life, all fight drains from your body, and you’re left now with the only question that matters hanging in the damp, cool air between you. “Why?”
She doesn’t answer. She stares back at you, an expression of haughty defiance painting her face, and after a minute of silence–a cold standoff at the edge of the river–you brush past them once more and stride back towards the house. Resigning yourself to never knowing; to life never being that same as it was mere hours ago when you were standing peacefully in the midday sun, unaware of the storm brewing for you in the shadows of the day.
Your mother hurries to catch up with you, “you’ll forgive her. She is your sister, after all, you’ve only got each other.”
You feel the urge to shout again, to admonish her for always taking the side of your younger sibling even when it was clear she was in the wrong, but the feeling dies in your throat before you can even think to act on it. You’re too tired. Instead you halt in your step and turn to face her, another question pressing at the forefront of your mind, “you read the letter?”
“I suppose we’ll be having two guests for dinner tomorrow night,” she muses, managing at least to look somewhat apologetic for your current state of affairs despite the obvious delight swimming behind her eyes. Two potential love matches for her daughter, and all the drama that a bored mama could possibly dream up, had finally planted itself in her lap and she was enjoying every second of it.
“Don’t you have any shame at all?” you ask, knowing how fruitless the question was but unable to refrain from voicing it. Enough anger was still lingering at the edges of your mind to give voice to the words.
“Oh, don’t pretend like you’re not excited to see the Jeon boy,” she says, trailing after you as you resume your brisk pace towards the house. “I always thought you two might get engaged when you were older, but then he left and well, Mr. Yoon seems an excellent second choice.”
You pointedly ignore her as she continues to monologue her fantasies for life, following behind you as you head up to your room in search of dry clothing and some reprieve from her aimless talking. “Mama,” you spin towards her, stopping her at the threshold of your bedroom, “I can tell you are gleaning some great joy from this situation, but please for once in your life have some pity and leave me alone.”
She opens her mouth to speak again but you close the door before she gets the chance, blocking out her protestations as you sink down onto the oak floor in a puddle of linen skirts and despair.
.
.
.
Dinner is suffocating. Your father relishes in the rare silence at the table while you coldly pass bowls of potatoes and vegetables to your sister, avoiding eye contact even as she nudges you under the table with her foot. You know your behaviour is childish–unbecoming of someone your age, as your mother would say, despite her own childish actions–but you can’t bring yourself to come to a place of peace and forgiveness quite yet. The letter still looms in your mind like a parchment monolith, a cloud hanging over all of your thoughts even as you try to distract yourself after dinner with a book by the fireplace. Even as your mother tries to entice you into friendly gossip about how you think Wonwoo might have changed over the years, how he might measure up to Jeonghan as a potential match.
The evening drags on into night, darkness swallowing the estate, and your sister sits staring at you over her untouched needlework from the other side of the parlour. You raise your eyes to meet hers for a moment before turning back to your novel, resuming the standoff and sinking back into the staunch silence you’re treating her with.
In truth it has been this way since childhood. The moment she was ushered into this world, the weight of responsibility settled onto your shoulders. The expectation of being the eldest sibling; of acting mature and setting an example for her to follow as she chased you through the fields, inserting herself in every possible situation with the carelessness of one who knows that they can get away with anything, should they so choose.
Your only reprieve from the insistent pressure of responsibility was when cousins and family would visit, capturing her wandering attention for long enough that you were able to slip out unnoticed and find solace outside, in a book, or with Wonwoo. Peace from her endless questioning and imitations–from following you around like a lost, unceasingly precocious child.
The heat of her unwavering gaze burns into the top of your head as you try to follow the narrative of your story in the dim light of the fire. Eventually you give up, slipping the book back into its place on the shelf, and dismissing yourself with a good night to your father–absorbed in his own book and entirely uninterested in the dramatics brewing within his home. Your sister scrambles up after you, following in your footsteps and rushing to say her own goodnights before chasing behind you up the stairs.
“Stop following me,” you spin around in the doorway to your room, arms crossed in defence–levelling her with a glare that you can only hope she takes seriously for once in her life.
“You have to forgive me eventually,” Lydia says, matching your posture and meeting your gaze with her own determined stare. “You can’t be upset about it forever.” It’s clear the silent treatment you’ve been giving her has wormed its way under her skin–plucking at the exact nerves that she tries so hard to ignore. Her disdain for being ignored–for being disliked, even momentarily–working against her now in the safety of her own home.
“Yes, I can,” you state flatly, half-turning away from her towards and moving to close the door before she stops you with a hand on your arm.
“That’s not fair,” she whines, “what are you so upset about anyway? That you have two men in love with you?” The truth seeps through her words and you find the answer to your question from earlier finally in the subtext of her complaints. “You’re jealous?”
“I’m not jealous,” she bites back, but the pout that accompanies the statement indicates the exact opposite. “I just think it’s unfair that you’re marrying someone without telling them that you’re in love with someone else.”
“I’m not marrying anyone,” you grit your teeth to keep from shouting and rousing your parent’s attention. The last thing you needed at this moment was the less than helpful advice of your mother. “I’m not even engaged. No one has asked me to marry them–no one.” You turn away from her, eager to shut her out for the night and sink into the comfort of sleep, “and I’m not in love with Wonwoo.”
She snorts, unconvinced, “that letter said otherwise.”
“That letter was written when I was fifteen and he was leaving,” you reply with a glare, “things have changed.”
“If you’re not still in love with him,” a small smile quirks up the corner of her lip, bringing another wave of rage crashing through you at the sight of it. Her smug expression lit low by the lanterns burning on the walls, “then why are you so mad?”
With a huff you close the door, blocking out any further comments she might deem necessary to add–anything further to provoke you to anger. You pause a moment, staring at the dark wood of the door, and breathe. The urge to scream floods your thoughts and you move to lie flat on your bed before it bursts free completely.
Sleep comes in fits and starts. Your dreams chase you through the labyrinth of night cloaked in signs and symbols–always beginning and ending in that grove of trees on your family's estate. Each time you stand at the entrance to the greenery, hopeful anticipation bubbling up in your chest, and take a step forward. Everything is silent–still. No chirping of birds, no rush of the wind, no sound at all save your own footsteps over the trodden soil as you walk towards the gnarled oak at the centre of the grove–your hand outstretched towards the bark.
The carved heart greets your fingers, initials swimming before your eyes. Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Lydia's, your own. They all traverse and coalesce on the expanse of broken brown wood, mingling with each other and transforming endlessly in front of your eyes. Before they have a chance to settle, a branch snaps behind you and you turn in anticipation to see who it is; a glimpse of muted fabric, a vaguely formed face, flashes in front of your vision before you are transported back to the field outside the trees–feet itching to carry you forward once again.
You repeat this process, over and over, until the light breaking through the window above your bed stirs you to consciousness. You sigh and squirm deeper into the blankets, desperate to sink back into the embrace of dreams and avoid the inevitable disaster of the day waiting for you outside your room.
A sharp knock on the door cuts off any hope that you had of delay. “Mama says to come down for breakfast," Lydia warns and you listen as her footsteps disappear down the staircase before slipping out of bed and preparing for the day.
.
.
.
The scent of eggs and ham greets you as you stumble down the stairs some time later; dressed in a simple frock belying the anxiety bubbling in the pit of your stomach in anticipation of the day. Your mother greets you with a cheerful “good morning”, the tone ignorant of the tension that underlay your last interactions with her. You offer her a tired smile in response–content with staying in silence for as long as possible this morning and avoiding any further bursts of anger she might provoke. It takes you a moment to notice the extra figure sitting at the table, one at the same time so familiar and unfamiliar. Wonwoo’s eyes, obscured as they are behind the glass of his spectacles, betray a similar mixture of delight and wariness at your presence. He offers you a hesitant smile over his plate of food and you feel your heart leap into your throat, mouth falling open in a silent gasp.
“Wonwoo,” you exclaim, earning an admonishing tsk from your mother at the noise. He stands, bowing slightly in greeting–smile broadening marginally as he does so.
“Hello,” he replies. You can hear a million different restrained thoughts and questions in the greeting. So many unspoken words it makes your stomach knot. You remain, mouth agape, standing feet away while the force of it hits you while your sister, on the other hand, laughs aloud at the look of pure alarm on your face.
“Oh, sit down before you fall down,” she says, rolling her eyes and reaching for another roll from the centre of the table. “It’s only Wonwoo, you knew he was coming.”
You resist the temptation to openly glare at her and instead gather yourself into the seat across from Wonwoo–returning his smile, finally, with your own. “You’re here much sooner than expected,” you say, offering it as the only excuse for your astonishment at his presence during your family breakfast.
“I arrived rather early this morning,” he explains. The tension held in his shoulders ebbs away slowly, hesitation diminishing now that you’ve settled across from him. “Thankfully your father was awake and willing to sit down over a cup of tea.” You nod in acknowledgement. He and your father had always gotten along rather well, being of similar disposition. You would often find them sitting in silence together while your mama chased you around with her many complaints. “You look well,” he adds after a moment, a soft smile crinkling the corners of his eyes.
He’s older now than the last time you saw him–his jaw defined by the sharpness that comes with age, the loss of the soft roundness of youth–but he still looks exactly as you remember him. His brown eyes still hold that same kindness and quiet humour that you were so fond of. His smile, though grown hesitant with years of distance, is still as bright as it always was; a warm smile, both welcoming and genuine. A smile that makes you wish you had sent that letter out years ago. Maybe it would have kept him here, with you, at this table. Maybe you could have watched these transformations occur instead of seeing them all now. Maybe you would have had time to accustom yourself to the new angle of his jaw, to the mature slant of his cheekbone. Maybe…
“I am well, thank you,” you reply, cutting off your wandering thoughts and into your breakfast. Turning away from the warmth of his gaze for a moment’s reprieve. “And you? Have you been–” Hesitation stops you in your tracks as you form the question. Keen awareness of the curious eyes at the table fixed firmly on you, intruding on this reunion with their unceasing attention. The knowledge that both your mother and sister are highly aware of the undercurrent of feelings–whether present or past–running between you stalls your speech. “Are you well?” you finish lamely, clearing your throat and gathering yourself into a state of stoicism.
“Very well, thank you,” he replies with a nod, similarly reserved. Knowing your family as he does, you’re sure he senses the shift in the atmosphere. Sure he’s adjusting himself accordingly.
“Well,” your mother leans forward, towards Wonwoo, a conspiratorial glint in her eye as she begins speaking, “we are so glad to have you back with us after such a long time away. I can’t imagine why you didn’t visit sooner, but no matter. How long will you be staying?”
“Only a week,” he replies, “I return to town next Sunday.”
“And what brings you here so suddenly?” The brazenness of her question in light of everything she knows would shock you if you weren’t so used to her meddling. You bite your tongue, woefully resigned to allowing her to play out her machinations while you suffer under the brunt of them. A mere tool in her game of matchmaking and gossip-mongering. Lydia stifles a laugh next to you with a cough, drawing Wonwoo’s attention.
“Ah,” he starts, watching you closely for any hint of caution but you remain as neutral as possible. “I had been meaning to return for years now, I’ve been too long overdue for a visit. It has been years, even, since I’ve seen my own family’s estate.”
“I see,” your mother sighs, correcting her posture and sitting upright, disappointed by the lack of spectacle. Her desire for a dramatic breakfast proposal being thwarted, she changes topic and shifts to Wonwoo’s current business practices. How is he getting along as a barrister in town during these troubled times? He answers her inquiries, offering up tidbits of gossip from town that might interest her, and you feel a rush of gratitude towards him for so easily flowing with her changing moods and temperament. A feat not easily undertaken.
Conversation continues late into the morning, with even your father chiming in here and there; forgoing his usual habit of staying entirely silent until reproached by your mother and instead offering up comments entirely unprovoked to the surprise and delight of the same woman who is usually provoking him. You pick at the food on your plate, watching Wonwoo from across the table even as your sister silently teases you for it from her own seat. Finally, the plates are all cleared away and you stand, ready to stretch your stiff muscles outside of the house.
“Why don’t you three kids take a walk,” your mother prompts–taking notice of your fidgeting. “I have to make preparations for dinner tonight.”
“Oh, there’s no need to go to such trouble on my account,” Wonwoo holds his hands up as if to ward off the worst of your mother’s efforts.
“It’s not just for you,” Lydia sighs, a sly grin tugging at the corners of her mouth, “it’s for Mr. Yoon.”
“Who–” Wonwoo starts, glancing at you, a ripple of confusion passing over his face before your mother cuts him off.
“Don’t be rude, Lydia,” she admonishes her, “it’s for both of you, Mr. Jeon. Mr. Yoon has become a very welcome part of our family gatherings since he arrived not two months ago.” She moves behind you, hustling the three of you out of the dining room and towards the front door in a manner befitting a sheepdog rather than a mother. “The girls will tell you all about him, I’m sure.”
The door is closed on you before you have the chance to protest and you turn towards Wonwoo with a heavy sigh, “I guess we are taking a walk, then.”
“Your mother certainly has not changed over all these years,” he laughs, more relaxed now that you’re away from the presence of your parents. He offers his arm for you to take as you descend down the stone path leading through the gardens and out into the fields. The rain of the previous day is all but gone, leaving nothing but the odd puddle dotting the path as you walk along at an easy pace--grateful for the warm, golden sun as it streams down on you.
You slip your arm through Wonwoo’s and marvel at the naturalness of the gesture. Though it’s been years since your last exchange of letters, and even longer since you last saw each other in person, the ease with which you slip back into old comforts in his presence is nothing short of remarkable. You spend the first half of the walk catching up–exchanging stories of the goings-on around the village and in town since you last spoke. Lydia walks a ways ahead of you, constantly looking back as if desperate to invite herself into the conversation before inevitably thinking better of it and turning around to resume her striding.
The silence emanating from her is a worrisome gnat that wheedles its way into the back of your mind, but you brush it aside and focus on the feeling of your old friend back at your side. The feeling of his arm against yours, his voice no longer a mere echo in your mind, but a real sound to be heard and listened to. It feels as if he had never left; that despite the growth in each of you as a person, both physically and mentally, there had merely been a pause put on your relationship. A brief interlude that served only to bring you to this exact moment in time where you could be together again.
The comfort is at once welcome and disconcerting. The thought of Wonwoo’s letter, the implication of his feelings, presses at the forefront of your mind alongside the image of Jeonghan with his hand outstretched towards you in the sun of the grove. As much as you want to ignore these worries, they sit there staring at you, tugging at your attention as you try and focus on what should be a joyous reunion. And as Wonwoo talks, regaling you with tales from his time at college and in his current employment, you can see those same worries brewing behind his eyes. The same hesitation keeping him from broaching either topic. You’re each waiting, hearts held on the blade of a sword. Enjoying each other's company while expecting someone to slice into it and spill the blood at any moment.
“So,” your sister struts over to you as you sit in the grass by the river, knees tucked tight to your chest. She sits down in front of you, her skirts pooling around her in a puddle of blue and white. You brace yourself for whatever she had been planning during her extended silence on your walk. The tension built up from yesterday had still not eased and if you knew your sister as well as you thought you did, you knew she would not allow herself to be the first one to heal the rift.
You fix her with an even stare. Careful neutrality painted on your expression in an attempt to dissuade the worst of her plotting. “Yes, Lydia?”
“Did she tell you about Jeonghan yet?” she asks with a mirthful grin, and you feel the question jolt through your body. Wonwoo glances up at her, dropping the blade of grass he had been idly running between his fingers, and lifting a hand to adjust his glasses.
“Ah, no,” he admits. His eyes flicker to you briefly before returning to Lydia–so quickly you might not have noticed had your own eyes not been watching him from the corner of your vision. “I don’t believe so.”
“And you’ve never met him before?” Her grin widens slightly, glee shining bright in the depths of her coal dark eyes. She was truly her mother’s daughter.
“I don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure, no,” he says, tolerating the leading questions with more patience than you would have ever been able to muster. But then, he always was more patient than you.
“So you don’t know?” she asks, smile widening even further.
“Lydia,” you warn, using every ounce of strength and resilience in your body to resist leaping forward and tackling her to the ground before she can spoil anything further.
The warning in your voice doesn’t go unnoticed by Wonwoo. You can feel him stiffen next to you; the fear of whatever is being left unsaid creeping under his skin and nestling there like a slumbering bear at the cusp of spring.
“Know what?” he asks, curiosity overwhelming the fear. He plucks up the thread your sister has laid bare and you know there’s no going back once she’s said what she wants to say. You want to grab him by the hand and race away–towards the trees, to a place used as solace from her nearly everyday in your youth. To hide from her and from the realities of the situation you find yourself currently stranded in. To stay in this moment in between forever.
Lydia smiles again, pleased to command everyone’s attention so completely. You wait, the knot of anxiety in your stomach tightening, and watch Wonwoo out of the corner of your eye. Waiting to see the regret over his return show itself plain on his face.
“They’re engaged,” she says finally, pulling the pin and leaning back on her arms to watch Wonwoo’s face fall. His mouth pulls to a thin line and you feel a cavern open up in the hollow of your chest, ready to swallow you whole.
“Lydia,” you all but shout her name, startling a bird resting on a nearby bush and sending it flying into the air with an alarmed chirp. “We are not engaged.”
“You might as well be,” she shouts back, balling her fists up in her skirts and fixing you with a glare, “I know that’s why he’s coming for dinner tonight.”
“You don’t know anything,” the cold anger seething in your voice surprises you, but the buttons have been pressed and you can do nothing now except ride the wave. “I don’t know what games you’re playing, Lydia–whether you’re bored or just jealous or what–and frankly, I don’t care. It’s not funny. Leave me alone.”
Whatever outcome she had hoped to garner from engineering this confrontation, this was not it. You watch as she picks herself up off the ground in a huff and stalks back towards the house–no doubt seeking the solace of your mother’s ever-forgiving arms. The rage subsides as she disappears from view, leaving in its wake a hollow in the pit of your stomach as you’re left staring out over the meandering creek as it carves its path through the fields.
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, glancing sideways at Wonwoo. He sits still, in a state of mild shock at the outburst, and makes no indication of either moving or speaking. Birds fly overhead, singing their soprano songs as they make their way towards some unknown destination–wings disturbing the otherwise still air surrounding you. Silence stretches onwards, and you sit with your head resting on your arms, wishing you could travel back in time to prevent this from ever happening.
But what time would you travel back to? To prevent Lydia from ever finding the letter in the first place, would you not have written it? Would you have instead bottled up those feelings that, at the time, were so overwhelming they demanded a two-page long letter to express?
Would you go back and refuse to meet Jeonghan at the ball? Spend your time against the wall and accepting dances from the unwed sons of families you rarely associated with?
Or would you travel back the span of a day and make peace with your sister. Approach her not from a well of anger but from a space of understanding and diplomacy–if only to smooth her ruffled feathers and prevent the fight that had been brewing in the pot of tension between you.
The answer never comes. All of the possibilities–of what could have been or what might have been–dangle before you, but you know there is no going back; you are left now simply to pick up the pieces in the aftermath of what is.
Wonwoo breaks the tense silence himself after a few minutes. “Is it true?” he asks, the potent mixture of hope and fear in his voice sends a pang of guilt through your heart–piercing the already bruised organ further at the sound.
“We’re not engaged,” you say, unsure of how else to phrase the inbetween state of being that exists between you and Jeonghan. That period of time when both of you know what the next step is but still have not moved a muscle to take it.
“Why did you send the letter?” He asks, twisting the knife of guilt and shame further and deeper into you with the tone of despair leaking out over every word. You turn to look at him, meeting his gaze head on to see the heartbreak glistening in his warm, brown eyes.
The threat of tears prick behind your own as you look at him, desperately searching your brain for an answer that will make all of this go away–but none surface. Instead you are left with nothing but a confused tangle of emotions churning inside of you, clouding your thoughts with the force of them. You brace yourself for his possible reaction to the truth, averting your eyes back towards the blue river, “I didn’t send it.” The confession rolls out of your mouth like a prayer for peace and you can hear Wonwoo’s sharp intake of air as he takes a steadying breath beside you.
“Do you love him?” The question hangs in the air between you, bringing you at once closer together with the weight of it and thrusting you further apart in the implication.
“I don’t know,” you had never been able to lie around Wonwoo. Not since you were children, forcing him to steal bread and cheese from the kitchens with you for your own tea parties in the garden. Not since you were youths of twelve telling each other your deepest secrets as you laid next to each other in the field watching the clouds pass overhead. The truth, however painful it may be, was always the only route you were ever able to take when held under the weight of his gaze–transfixed by the warmth in his honeydark eyes.
“Could you love him?”
“Yes,” you sigh, nodding. “I could.”
His next question comes out as a whisper, barely heard of the sound of the water below and the birds overhead--almost as if he was too afraid to ask it, “do you love me?”
What could you say? What answer was there to give? ‘Of course, Wonwoo, you’re my best friend.’ While it remains true, you know that it isn’t what he’s asking you; you can read the deeper meaning hidden in the question, you know the significance of the words he is choosing. You turn towards him, twisting the knife in your heart one final time, severing completely the hope he had sent by letter. “I don’t know.”
Another moment of silence passes. You stare unblinking over the horizon, waiting for the rain clouds to form in the blue expanse overhead–to match your mood with their dreary presence–but the sky remains unashamedly clear.
Wonwoo lets out a long sigh beside you. You keep your gaze forward as you feel him stand up until he reaches a hand out to help you up. You glance from his hand to his face in surprise at the gesture after your confession, but he just smiles down at you sadly. “Come on,” he prompts and you slip your hand into his hand.
“Where are we going?” you ask, unclear as to his intentions now that everything has been laid bare under the afternoon sun.
“I’m walking you home,” he says simply, before pulling you to your feet and heading back down the path away from the running water and golden fields of wheat.
.
.
.
The afternoon drags on, spent in the midst of an uncomfortable silence in the parlour with your sister and mother. Wonwoo excused himself to his family home shortly after returning back under the guise of getting ready for dinner. A part of you had been expecting him to feign illness and retire for the entirety of the evening, but no doubt the pressure of social graces–as well as his own unwavering politeness–entreated him to keep the engagement.
The book open between your hands may as well be blank for all the attention you’re paying it; your mind swims with thoughts of your fight with your sister, and of the subsequent conversation with Wonwoo–replaying it over and over relentlessly. His face, crestfallen and sad, lingers in the forefront of your mind–a portrait reminder of the sharp ache in the centre of your chest. Lydia sits across from you, puncturing the fabric of her needlework aimlessly as she switches between pouting and glaring in your direction while your mother pointedly ignores you both in favour of hemming the dress her own sister recently passed down to her.
Your father, attuned as usual to the shifting moods of the house, avoids the parlour entirely.
The silent contemplation brings you no sense of reprieve by the time Jeonghan arrives for the evening. Hours spent pondering your options–alternating back and forth between him and Wonwoo and your confused feelings for both men–have brought no clear conclusion forward. In the wake of the afternoon, you prepare yourself for what was sure to be a bizarre dinner party, begging your mother not to sit you next to Lydia at the table for everyone’s sake.
Thankfully she obliges, seating you instead between Wonwoo and Jeonghan for her own amusement–the latter of which being entirely unaware of the state of affairs he is about to enter into with this dinner. The table is set, the people are seated, and your mother begins with an overwhelmingly passionate monologue of gratitude towards the two young gentlemen joining your family that evening.
“Mr. Jeon,” she smiles, passing a bowl of potatoes towards him, “how happy we are to see you at long last back home, as I already said this morning.” You roll your eyes at the emphatic speech, catching the gaze of your sister in a similar state of reproach and almost laughing with her before you correct yourself and turn back towards your plate of food. “I do so hope you will be back to visit much more in the future.”
“Of course,” Wonwoo nods his gratitude towards her, a placating smile stretching over his lips as he passes the bowl towards his aunt who had invited herself over as soon as she heard about the occasion.
“I’ve already admonished him, Gloria,” she laughs, scooping a healthy serving of the starchy vegetable onto her own plate before handing it off down the line. “It has been far too long since I have seen my nephew and what does he do when he arrives? He comes to your estate for breakfast without even first saying hello to anyone in his own family.” She shakes her head and shares another laugh with your mother. They are, as always, two birds of a feather when in the company of each other–delighting in gossip and unwarranted comments as often as they can catch a breath to share them.
“Now, Mr. Yoon,” your mother shifts her attention towards the man at your right side, smiling at him as if he were a newborn baby, “I am saddened to hear that you have to leave us so soon, but we have very much enjoyed your company these past few months and do so hope you will be back again soon.”
“Of course,” he returns her smile with his own. You can feel the heat of his thigh next to your own under the table, the closeness of him on your one side and Wonwoo on the other nearly suffocating you in your seat. “There is a lot to come back for.”
The comment doesn’t go unnoticed by either your sister, who has to feign a brief coughing fit to cover her laughter, or Wonwoo whose hand tenses around the fork in his grasp even as his expression remains impassive. The conversation is dissolved and dispersed amongst the table throughout the meal; your father catches Jeonghan’s attention and, unusually talkative, entreats him with a renewed discussion of the progress on the new mill’s construction. Both family matriarchs trade local gossip, as well as any anecdotes they can remember from the most recent ball, to keep each other entertained while you and Wonwoo sit in abject silence next to each other–eyes focused on the food on your plates in front of you.
Everyone retires to the parlour after dinner, mingling in small groups with you and your sister sitting in silence at the edge of room–watching as your mother’s laugh grows louder with the heat of wine and your father’s passionate discussions about the price of rye take on a life of their own, while Jeonghan just nods patiently and listens. Gravity and familiarity pull the two of you closer together, seeking some solace in each other as the only two outsiders in your own home.
“You were right,” she heaves a sigh, turning to you with a brief glance.
“What was I right about?” You keep your eyes trained towards the room, watching as Wonwoo and Jeonghan strike up a conversation with each other and desperately wishing you were close enough to be able to hear what they were discussing. Lydia calls your attention back to her with a dramatic sigh.
“I was jealous,” she admits and you look at her in surprise at the frank confession. “It was stupid, and I’m sorry. In my defence I didn’t know it was going to be so–” she pauses, waving a hand in a dramatic gesture towards the rest of the room, “dramatic.”
You choke back a bark of astonished laughter, completely at odds with how you had been feeling for the first portion of the evening; all fight had been entirely drained out of you and despite the desire to continue dragging her over the coals for her sin, you give in to the shared bond that exists between you as sisters. “Me either,” you say simply.
“Do you forgive me?” she asks, a spark of hope lighting up her voice at your acceptance of her excuse and you laugh.
“No,” you reply, grinning at her, “but I will.”
“I suppose I can accept that,” she nods once, smiling back at you before drifting towards your mother and inserting herself into a conversation around pregnancy rumours in the village–a topic that is sure to keep all three of them enraptured for the remainder of the evening, as nothing is more exciting than the threat of children to women who have none to worry over anymore.
Left alone, you wander towards Wonwoo and Jeonghan; buoyed by the reconciliation with your sister and resigned to swallowing the rest of your fate as it stands before you. “Are we still discussing mills and rye?” you ask, nodding towards your father who has taken it upon himself to sink into silence with a book in front of the fire, having exhausted all avenues of conversation that he is even remotely invested in.
Jeonghan laughs, shaking his head with a mock grimace, “no, actually. As it turns out, once you’ve already talked about the price of grain for well over an hour, there isn’t much left to be said.”
Wonwoo nods, laughing–all hint of earlier heartbreak has washed clean from his expression for the moment and you can see that he and Jeonghan are getting along despite themselves. The confusion returns anew, revitalised in your mind, and you can’t be sure whether this development is good or bad even as you stand by to watch it unfold.
“No,” Wonwoo says, “I was just asking him about his time in London.”
“A truly horrible place,” Jeonghan shudders at the thought of the city, drawing another laugh forward from Wonwoo and plucking another thread of nerves inside your throat. “No, I am quite happy to be away from there for the time being. The peace and quiet of the countryside suits me, I think.”
“It is certainly quiet,” Wonwoo nods just as a loud bout of laughter sounds out from the group of women on the settee near the fireplace, a wry smile dancing on his lips.
“And you are from here originally?” Jeonghan asks, glancing over at Wonwoo’s aunt as she stands to deliver her well practised imitation of one of the other mamas from the village.
“Yes, we grew up together,” he nods, gesturing towards you with the reply. Jeonghan glances between you, the new knowledge clicking into place in the wheels of his mind.
“You must have a lot of stories from that time,” he says, following the thought. You watch it spin behind the firelit brown of his eyes.
“Many, yes. We spent a lot of our time together,” Wonwoo affirms, and the truth of the statement sinks into you as he says it. Your past is filled with memories of him–painted with images of him splayed out in the fields, or leaping into the water, or simply falling asleep at the breakfast table after a sleepless night spent reading by candlelight. “If you want,” Wonwoo muses, lifting a hand to his chin with a sly grin, “I can tell you about the time she lost her shoe in the–”
“Stop,” you reach a hand out in panic, yanked unceremoniously out of your memories by the suggestion, and grab onto Wonwoo’s arm to cut off the story before it can begin. “No one wants to hear that story,” you let out a nervous laugh.
“I don’t know, I wouldn’t mind hearing it,” Jeonghan says, glancing down where your hand sits lingering on Wonwoo’s arm; you pull it back to your side and resign yourself to the embarrassment that is sure to follow. He turns his attention back towards Wonwoo as he begins the story–more than happy to offer up your pain as an anecdote for the evening.
“We were having a foot race through the fields after a particularly intense summer storm,” he begins with and you groan inwardly, already dreading the narrative that you know will follow, “of course her skirts were at least an inch deep in the mud and were weighing her down rather heavily,” the story continues and Jeonghan stands as a ready audience as Wonwoo weaves the image together for him. You can picture that day so clearly in your mind, the feeling of the mud sucking you down into the field, Wonwoo nearly tearing your sleeve off while trying to pull you out, and then diving in to rescue the shoe that you were sure your mother would kill you for if she knew you had lost it.
The rain beating down on you as Wonwoo carried you on his back towards the house–tears streaming down your face and the both of you covered head to toe in mud which earned you an, admittedly deserved, verbal lashing from your parents as soon as you tracked it inside.
“I must say,” Jeonghan looks towards you when the story comes to its conclusion, laughing softly at the thought, “I can’t quite picture it.”
“Why not?” you ask, curious as to the reason behind his statement.
“I suppose,” he pauses for a moment in thought, “you seem much more put together now. I can’t picture you as a wild child.”
Wonwoo snorts, as if some inside joke has been shared, and shoots you a conspiratorial glance, “she’s definitely much more put together now.”
“Well, I’m glad you two have had fun bonding over my embarrassment,” you sigh. The clock on the wall chimes the hour and you see from the corner of your eye your father yawning wide over his book. Even the laughter and chatter from the other women in the room has died down–everyone now sporting a tired, weary expression in the lateness of the evening.
Wonwoo’s aunt stands, thanking your parents profusely for the meal and the bed, before retiring upstairs to the guest rooms. Your mother and sister follow her in short order, with your father not too far behind, ushering the three of you towards bed as well. The wooden floors of the stairs creak under the weight as everyone files up towards their respective rooms for the evening; the house has not seen this many guests since the last time your cousins stayed with you, and despite the bizarre circumstances you were grateful for the company as a welcome change of pace from the everyday routine.
You slip into bed after saying your goodnights and feel the weight of the day sinking into you. Left in solitude finally after hours of entertaining company, your thoughts return to the circular confusion that had been clouding your mind before dinner. They flicker back and forth between faces–Wonwoo, Jeonghan, Wonwoo, Jeonghan–both men swimming up to eclipse all your thoughts once again. You remember Jeonghan as he was the day you met him, cheerful and witty in the presence of a room full of strangers. The best company you had kept in months–more than willing to converse and joke with the ease of someone you could have known for years.
And you remember Wonwoo, as he was when you were children–bright, kind, and willing to go along with every place you could cook up despite his own shyness and reserve. And you remember him as he was today, beside the creek in the fields; bathed in the light of the afternoon sun, face fallen in the wake of your confession. He had come all this way on the wings of hope towards you after years of separation, and you had to be the one to ground him with reality. Not once, in all your years of knowing him had you seen that expression on his face until today.
Sleep consumes you after you exhaust your cyclical thoughts; you pray for a dreamless slumber–only too ready to sink into the relief of darkness–and for once, your prayers are granted.
.
.
.
The house is abuzz with activity in the morning. Everyone wakes for breakfast early, eager to continue last night’s conversations or to strike up new ones, and you feel renewed after a blessedly restful sleep. The weight of indecision still rests heavy on your heart, but it isn’t as cloying and suffocating as it had been the night before–trapped between Wonwoo and Jeonghan at the table all while wrestling with your own thoughts. Instead you find yourself smiling more easily, even laughing openly at your sister’s jokes over breakfast. Relief washes through you at the reprieve from your tortured feelings until the meal once again comes to an end and Jeonghan stands, turning towards you with a question. “If I may,” he begins, capturing the attention of everyone still seated despite the attempt at keeping his voice to a low volume. “Could I request the privilege of an audience with you,” uncharacteristic nervousness shimmers in his voice and you feel it similarly ripple through your body, “alone?”
In a rush your mother stands, abandoning her half-cut slice of ham and ushering everyone out of the dining room with glee and answers for you. “Of course, of course,” you sit paralyzed, your own nerves tying a knot inside your throat as you watch them leave the room. Wonwoo looks back at you, meeting your eyes with his own worried gaze before the door is closed and you are left in silence as Jeonghan gathers his thoughts to speak.
“It should come as no surprise,” he begins, and you stand to face him–eyes slightly averted from his own to avoid the intensity of the moment, “that I–” he pauses, hesitating. The nerves that were in his voice before have built to a fine point and you watch his hands as they clench and unclench into fists at his side.
“Jeonghan,” you start, hoping to offer some words to ease the palpable tension in the air but coming up entirely speechless.
“I return to town soon, and I was hoping you would also–” he sighs, running a hand through his hair in frustration before giving up on whatever speech he had half-planned. “I love you,” he says, plainly, brown eyes seeking yours for any confirmation of the feelings he wishes to be returned, “quite a lot, actually, and I had to ask before I left if you feel the same, if–” he inhales, breath shaking with the force of his confession–with the fear of rejection or acceptance or both. “If you would do me the honour of marrying me?”
The question hangs between you–caught in limbo as you ponder it. You had expected it, as much as you had tried to ignore that expectancy, it was there. Standing here, in the centre of your family’s dining room facing him now–the buzzing excitement, the sweeping sense of anticipation, and warmth that you felt before–it’s all miles away. The hope you had previously held for this exact moment is racing away through the fields, running free and far from you. The feelings that bore the hope exist still, they sit nestled in your heart, but they aren’t attached to Jeonghan; here in the light of day you finally come to the realisation that you have known all along where your heart belongs.
It belongs in the fields of your childhood, running through the mud with your hand clasped tight in Wonwoo’s firm grip. It belongs at the feet of the boy who promised you at thirteen years old that he would never let you go. It belongs to someone on the other side of the door from you–whose heart you shattered only a day prior.
Jeonghan stands silent–waiting for your response–and you wish in this moment you could give him something other than the truth that has formed on your lips, but it has broken free into the air between you before you can catch it. “I’m sorry,” you say, “I wish I could. I really do, but–”
He smiles, the expression not quite meeting his eyes as he nods in understanding, “I know.” The resignation in his voice catches you off guard and he laughs at your surprise, “I knew last night that this was a losing game for me, but still,” he sighs, “I had to ask.”
“So,” you start, at a loss for what social decorum expects of you in this situation. Sinking into the relief of his acceptance of your rejection. “What will you do now?”
He pauses a moment in thought, fixing his gaze on the ceiling before turning back to you with a slight grin, “maybe I will invest in the new mill.”
Laughter cuts through the tension, dissolving the atmosphere of the room back into one of calm camaraderie, “I really am sorry, Jeonghan. For what it’s worth, if you had asked me five days ago I would have said yes.”
“Missed my chance, then,” he smiles sadly, turning towards the door only to have it swing open under the weight of your mother and sister pressing against it. “Thank you for your hospitality, ma’am,” he bows towards your mother and, before she has a chance to inquire, leaves through the front door and heads off into the morning sun.
“You rejected him?” your mother asks, surprise and astonishment colouring her voice. She glances between you and the door as it closes behind Jeonghan, mouth agape.
“Where’s Wonwoo?” you ask, taking note of the absence of him from the small group gathered at the door to the dining room. They all glance around at each other, matching bewildered expressions, until, with a roll of your eyes, you push through them and head out the front door–propriety be damned.
For a moment you hesitate; you have no idea where he might have gone in the span of time you spent talking to Jeonghan but a voice in the back of your mind directs you across the golden fields towards that old familiar grove of trees. Your mother and sister, accompanied by Wonwoo’s aunt, hover at the front step of the house, watching as you stride through the tall grass, through the stalks of wheat, past the cows and sheep, and towards the greenery beyond.
You pause at the entrance to the grove, framed by old willow trees and inhale a steadying breath. Your feet sink into the soft earth as you step into the shade of the trees and you see Wonwoo standing, as you half-expected he would be, next to the gnarled oak tree in the centre of the clearing. A small smile plays at the corners of your lips as you approach him in silence, startling him when you come to a stop beside him–eyes trained on the carved heart in the rough, brown bark.
“Do you remember when we did this?” he asks, tracing a finger over the old memory. You nod, waiting for him to continue the story, “a month before I left for town.”
“I remember.”
“You told me I wasn’t allowed to leave without first promising to come back when we were older,” he laughs–a light, breathless laugh. “Do you remember that?”
“I do,” you nod, turning towards him. “I remember you saying you would always come back for me.”
“Right,” he nods, removing his hand from the wood of the tree and straightening his posture. You stand for a moment, in the silence of the morning broken only by the chirping of nesting birds in the treetops above. The shared memory lingers between you–wrapping you together in a knot of knowing. A knowing of each other, unlike anyone else–shared history, shared memories, shared feelings.
“Are you going to marry him?” Wonwoo asks, breaking the silence first and glancing at you–fear of your unspoken answer, of what he imagines it might be, dancing in his brown eyes as he stands in the sun-dappled wood. You can’t help but feel strange in this moment, standing with the boy you’ve stood with so many times surrounded by these same trees. He looks the same–older, yes–but the same. The same brown eyes alight with hope and love, the same golden skin glistening in the light of the sun, the same tremor in his voice as he gives voice to a question that he fears the answer to.
You pause a moment in thought. “Jeonghan would make an excellent husband,” you say, consdiering the possibility out loud. Wonwoo's face falls; a subtle almost imperceptible shift in his expression. Fear of an unknown solidifying into fear of an almost certainty in his mind.
He clears his throat, nodding, "he would." The tremor in his voice remains even as he tries to hide it, speaking softly and trying to steel his gaze. "You would be," he stammers, averting his eyes back towards the bark of the tree, “you would be an excellent match."
"We would, but Wonwoo," you say, catching his attention again with the mention of his name. You capture his gaze once more as you take a step forward, closing the distance between you. Your fingers itch to reach out and take his hand in yours; standing here alone in the middle of a copse of trees you're already laughing in the face of all decency. All it would take is one of you to reach out–skin to skin–as you had when you were children. Without care, without worry. No thought to anything save the moment. Save the feeling that trembles in the space between you.
"Wonwoo," you begin again, steadying your hands at your side, "how could I marry him when I'm still in love with you?"
The dawn of realisation breaks over his face–clearing away the storm clouds that had been brewing behind his eyes–and his mouth falls open in silent shock. You stand there, bathed in the golden light of the morning sun as it filters through the tops of the trees overhead. Trees that have witnessed your growth together through life; running wild as children, escaping your parents as youths, and sharing your first, fumbling kiss at fourteen years old after racing each other through the rain to the solace of the grove. Trees that now stand witness as Wonwoo finally speaks, breaking the silence that had stretched taut between you for a moment–a silence filled with so many unspoken memories and words. “Can I kiss you?” he asks, voice a mere breath in the air; if you hadn’t been standing so close already you might not have heard him.
You reach forward, allowing your itching fingers to finally grasp onto his–the shock of his warm hands in your own sending a chill over your body. Slowly, you raise his hand to your lips and press a chaste kiss to the knuckles, murmuring a soft “yes,” into his skin there.
All the awkwardness of youth is gone; the stiff hands, the hesitation, all of it melts into the past as Wonwoo raises a gentle hand to your cheek, bringing you towards him. A sharp inhale in the wake of anticipation, and then your lips meet. His warmth sinks into you as you press forward into the kiss, deepening it as you feel the flood of feelings held back for years pour forth.
Wonwoo pulls back with a smile that lights up the browns of his irises as he looks at you. “What would your mother think of this?” he teases, entwining his fingers with yours.
“Don’t ruin this please,” you grimace, and he laughs–bright and clear before pulling you back to him. You feel his smile against your lips and sink into the warmth of it, wrapping your arms around him and allowing the world outside to melt away. No thoughts of your family, no thoughts of your past, no thoughts of the future–just here and now, in the arms of the one you’ve loved and waited for.
And it’s in this moment, as Wonwoo encircles you in his arms, that you know you’ve made the right choice.
© 2024, neoneun-au. all rights reserved.
if you enjoyed this story, please consider reblogging and letting me know. its what keeps me writing
#svthub#caratlibrary#wonwoo x reader#svt x reader#jeonghan x reader#seventeen x reader#wonwoo scenarios#svt scenarios
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Pierced
On the fourth floor of her sorority, Sarah stood in front of the door marked 'President', a little nervous, a little surprised but ultimately excited. It was a tremendous honor for her friends, and fellow sorority sisters, Emily and Bree to have voted to make her president. This was even more compounded by the fact that they had decided when they started the sorority to abolish the idea of having a single figure head.
In the first few months of her freshman year Sarah had been utterly lonely. She found it hard to make friends and there was no real place for her to meet anyone. That's when she had come across the sorority that had been abandoned.
Alpha Omega Sigma was once the most feared and revered sorority on campus, ruled with an iron fist by a girl called Kayla, the hottest, meanest, and most popular girl at the college. Her reign was infamous. She instilled fear in everyone, and her sorority sisters both idolized and dreaded her. When Kayla graduated, the sorority was left leaderless. The other girls seemed to lose their taste of being campus bitches and the building fell into disrepair, eventually being forgotten.
Sarah had seen it as an opportunity to bring together other girls who felt at sea, who needed a helping hand, who needed friends. That’s how she met the equally outcast Emily and Bree. They banded together to repair the broken down sorority. They made plans to organize charity events, volunteer at local shelters, and hold inclusive social gatherings that welcomed everyone, regardless of their background.
Finally after months of work getting the house back in liveable order, Emily and Bree surprised her with a gesture of gratitude and respect. They insisted that she become the President of Alpha Omega Sigma. Despite her resistance to having any sort of leader position or title, Sarah accepted, knowing how much it meant to them.
Pushing open the door into the bedroom she found herself beaming ear to ear. The girls had completely overhauled the room and it was now a warm and welcoming space rather than the dingy and dark place they had been storing materials in.
Sarah wandered around the newly renovated room, basking in its simple beauty. Piled in the corner were some boxes marked ‘Kayla’. They contained a bunch of clothes, jewelry and makeup from the former president that they had planned on using in a charity auction, once they had more sisters of course.
As she took a step towards the bookshelf, she suddenly felt a sharp pain shoot through her foot. "Ouch!" she exclaimed, hopping on one leg. Looking down, she saw something gleaming between the floorboards. Kneeling, she pried it out and found herself holding a small, jewel-encrusted belly button piercing. The pink diamond at its center sparkled mesmerizingly in the light.
Her eyes were captivated by the piercing's beauty. It seemed almost alive, the way it shimmered and glowed. Suddenly, it shot out of her hand and latched onto her belly button with a force that knocked the breath out of her. She quickly recovered as a pleasurable vibration coursed through her body. "Ohhhh god what is happpppppening?" She managed to moan.
A deep sensation ran through her, and she could feel her bones cracking and shifting. Her once brown hair lightened, strands turning a bright, golden blonde that cascaded in soft waves over her shoulders.
As her hair transformed, she felt her drive for academic excellence fade, slowly replaced by an overwhelming desire to party and fuck boys. Her once focused mind now swirled with thoughts of drinking, dancing and riding cock.
“No, I have to focus, I can’t just think about partying… or can I?” She muttered weakly, trying to fight the intrusive thoughts. Each time she let the naughty ideas the more she felt her body change and the piercing throb pleasurably.
Next to change were her boobs which grew bigger than any other pair she knew. They stretched out her hoody she was wearing, lifting it high and exposing her midriff where the piercing sparkled.
With her now bigger tits, her extensive knowledge of science was pushed aside, supplanted by a deep understanding of makeup, fashion and seduction techniques. As smart as she was with equations and chemical mixtures she now was an expert in the right lip gloss for the right occasion, the sexiest dress that would have heads turning, and the flirtatious looks that could bring any man to their knees.
“Maybe this isn’t so bad. Knowing how to dress to get what I want would be useful, right?” She reasoned, a sly smile creeping onto her face.
Her lips plumped, becoming lush and inviting. She bit her bottom lip pleasurably, loving the taste of lipstick she felt on it. She felt her introverted nature dissolved into an intense arrogance. She no longer felt the need to shy away from the spotlight. She craved it, relishing the power she felt in her new, sexy appearance.
“Of course, I need to be seen and admired. What’s the point of being this beautiful if no one is around to appreciate it?” She said confidently.
Her fingernails elongated and took on a perfect pink polish, as if freshly manicured. Her kindness, which had been a cornerstone of her character, was stripped away, replaced by a cruel streak. She felt a thrill in the idea of asserting her newfound dominance over others, especially her two sorority sisters.
“Yes more, MORE! This is what I want! What I deserve! The other girls are just ants in need of a queen, and I am that queen.” She declared, her voice dripping with contempt.
Sarah’s skin began tingle as it became tan, achieving a flawless, sun-kissed glow. Every blemish, scar, and imperfection faded away, leaving her complexion smooth and radiant. She felt an overwhelming surge of power and beauty unlike anything she had ever known.
Striding confidently to the mirror, Sarah looked at herself vainly. She took out her phone, posing for pictures, loving how she looked from every angle. Her new, blonde hair shimmered, her fuller tits and plumper lips adding to her bitchy look.
“Mmmm fuck yessss. I don’t know how the piercing did this, but I love it. And I’m going to make some changes to this sorority. MY sorority.” She said, admiring her reflection.
Her eye caught the boxes in the corner marked ‘Kayla’ and a wicked grin crossed her perfect lips. She ripped them open with manic glee and pulled outa tight pink outfit and began trying it on.
Everything felt perfect on her body, every item clung tightly to her bigger tits and tighter waist. She was in heaven. She looked every bit the stereotypically bitchy sorority girl. She loved it and so did the piercing. It continued to throb pleasurable everytime she thought or did something bitchy.
But there as something more to it as she caught its pink glint in the reflection. It seemed to whisper to her evil ideas, filled her mind with schemes. It endowed her with the knowledge of the wicked magic that now coursed through her and told her how she could wield it. The very thought made her wet with anticipation and thankfully she didn’t have to wait long to test out her new power.
“Sarah? Are you ok? It sounded like you were in pain.” Came Emily’s voice from beyond the door.
“We just wanted to make sure you’re not hurt.” Said Bree who was also there.
Sarah felt the piercing throb as it glowed an unholy pink. She knew what she needed to do. Swinging open the door the two girls were at first shocked at the sight of their president looking like every bully they ever had combined.
However they were soon drawn in to the glowing light of her belly button piercing. They were bathed in the pink light and were quickly transformed into blonde brats just like their leader.
“OMG Sarah, like, what did you do to us? I feel, like, so nasty.” Emily purred entering the room to use the mirror.
“For real babes, I’m so yummy and hawt now. I can’t believe the loser dorks we used to be.” Bree said in a bratty whine as she ran her newly manicured fingers over her transformed body.
“Soak it up girls, you’re the first sisters of my NEW sorority. A sorority where we get what we want, we fuck who we want, and we crush everyone who crosses us.” Sarah smirked at the two girls who returned the smile.
Over the next week the Sorority exploded with activity. Their first pledges arrived expecting a welcoming environment but instead finding two wicked bitches, Mila and Brianna, who belittled and bullied them. The ones who stayed were rewarded with a meeting with the sorority queen, Sasha.
After that meeting any resistance to the sorority lifestyle was dispel, as was their notions of kindness and charity. They just wanted to party, bully and fuck. Before the end of the month the sorority was filled with hot babes who controlled the campus.
The Alphas, as they were come to be known, were a force to be reckoned with. If you upset one of them you might as well drop out. If you didn’t they would make you wish you had.
They held the biggest parties and had the hottest girls. Everyone wanted to be them or be with them but no one was more coveted than the queen bee herself, Sasha.
At their nightly parties, hot guys would surround her, their eyes filled with desire as they watched her move. She basked in their attention, feeling the power of their longing wash over her.
Each beat of the music seemed to sync with the rhythmic throbs of the piercing in her belly button, sending waves of pleasure and satisfaction through her body. Every throb was a reward.
Sasha’s hips swayed provocatively, and she threw her head back, laughing with a mix of arrogance and delight. The boys around her were captivated, their gazes never leaving her. She could feel their desire, their yearning to be close to her, and it only fueled her confidence.
She eyed them like food at a buffet, wondering which one she would enjoy tonight. Eventually picking a muscle bound man named Brad. The other guys looked disappointed as she led Brad up the stairs. She passed by the open door of Mila who was being eaten out by her Psychology professor. She gave a wink to Sasha in between moans.
Reaching the next floor she came across Brianna who was leading another girl around by a leash while whipping her with a leather crop. Brianna nodded in respect to Sasha and pulled her pet out of her path.
Finally Sasha and Brad reached the top of the house where she had taken over the entire floor. Her previous room was more than spacious but that was fit for a president and not the queen that she now was nor what the sign now said on her pink door.
"It’s good to be the Queen." Sasha thought, her lips curling into a triumphant smile as she pulled Brad into her bedroom. The piercing throbbed again, as if in agreement, filling her with a deep sense of satisfaction. She was Alpha Omega Sigma, and nothing could challenge her reign.
THE END
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Important News Regarding the Project!
Hey, everyone following our project, both new and long time fans!
Today we've got some news that aren't entirely positive, unfortunately.
THE OVERHAUL PROJECT WILL BE PUT ON HOLD.
The decision was made with the main team, as we've discussed the ways we've attempted to stay going with our deadlines. We've concluded that pushing ourselves, even if very gently, is not making our motivation came back.
While we still love Trigun dearly, we have felt somewhat alienated from the community lately. Beyond that, real life responsibilities and struggles have taken much of our personal energy, cutting us off from other aspects of our lives. We've decided to focus what energy we have into reconnecting with friends and focusing on personal creative projects, all avenues that suffered during our burnout.
So, for the foreseeable future we will not be uploading any new volumes, nor will we be posting monthly updates. We will still be answering any questions you send to our blog, we will reblog something here and there, and engage with with ongoing Trigun Bookclub (though under our personal accounts.)
We will also still be doing that review of the Trigun Deluxe book eventually, though much there is to say about it has truly been said in the community in general.
If we feel up for it, we might make a surprise upload some time of smaller releases, like: artbooks, comics, magazines, etc. Usually a posting notice will be uploaded a week in advance, so people hopefully won't miss it when we do upload.
We're sorry we won't be continuing our Japanese uploads for now, but as we know, and encouraged by fans as well, we must look after our own health first and foremost.
Thank you for your understanding!
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I'm going to get some flack for this but—despite enjoying Fairly Odd Parents: A New Wish quite a lot, I find Timmy Turner was the more compelling protagonist.
Don't get me wrong, Hazel is a fantastic and lovable addition to the show, but I find a lot of her shenanigans aren't as fun or snappy as Timmy's.
I don't really see the reason why Hazel of all people needs fairies. Her brother is off at college but he visits and still clearly loves and cares about her. Her parents get busy from time to time but they're there when it matters and they also love her very much. Her mother is probably the busiest of the two, but she still makes time for her daughter.
The catalyst of the pilot is Hazel running away to see her brother because she wasn't handling the move right away, but very quickly after all this she is able to make friends and maintain an upbeat attitude.
I don't think Hazel needs to be soul crushingly miserable for the show to work, but maybe a spare line here or there about how Fairly World/Da Rules went through a MASSIVE overhaul after a certain, infamous, pink-hatted god-child shook things up could've been nice (Jorgen mentioning that the world has improved since Timmy was a kid, so the qualifications for misery have been loosened?).
It might be the childhood nostalgia talking, but I liked Timmy as a character. He was a ten year old boy who made wacky and wild decisions, whose character only got ruined from the show running too long. If Timmy had gotten the FOP:NW treatment, I think we could've had so much potential for character growth and continuity. (I've made the executive decision not to count seasons 9 and 10 as canon because everything up to that point felt OG!FOP to me).
I see posts saying that Timmy's problems were external while Hazel's are internal, but despite her supposed internal struggles, Hazel is very emotionally mature. Again, I don't think she needs to be MISERABLE and EXTREMELY insecure, but her life pre-fairies doesn't seem that different than her supposed life without. Even without Cosmo and Wanda, I'm sure she would've been able to befriend her classmates, eventually get through to Dev, and find happiness in her life.
I guess my fondness of Timmy is that his fairies were his family. Cosmo and Wanda were like his adopted parents. Poof/Peri was his brother. He had no one else. And I guess I wish I could've gotten a quality ending for him. I need closure! I wanna know how he's doing in FOP:NW. I want to see that he's happy and thriving (and maybe a reunion between him and his family).
Timmy, for all his childishness, selfishness, and pettiness, was a good kid at heart. He was ten years old for crying out loud! Ten year olds tend to be immature lil' kids. I excuse some of his wilder wishes. All he really wanted was acceptance and love and he cared for his Fairy God Parents so, so much. Cosmo and Wanda have a HALL OF TIMMY in their house, for crying out loud!
Hazel is a good protagonist and I'm glad she's in the show, but Timmy holds a special place in my heart. In my heart of hearts, the HALL OF TIMMY still exists somewhere in C+W's house/appartment and he will forever be their son.
#ramble#timmy turner#fairly oddparents#fairly oddparents a new wish#fop a new wish#fop timmy#cosmo and wanda#fop peri#fop poof#hazel wells
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replacements for a few LMS mods
If you think you saw this post yesterday, yes you did- then I made a couple edits and realized I should have done it under a readmore in case people reblogged it... So here we go again! These are the possible replacements I found for the littlemssam mods I was using, in case they help anyone else.
Caveats: - Often not a 1:1 replacement. - I only went looking for replacements for mods I was actually using, so this only covers a fraction of her catalog. - Most of these modders still use Curseforge, they're just not exclusive to it.
Additionally, if anyone knows of a replacement for any of the following: Go For A Walk, Improved Meditation Stool, Improved Practical Spells (the improvements to the spells themselves,) No Random Job Offers (I know BosseladyTV has one, but it's CF exclusive,) Purchased Items Delivered By Mail, Release All The Ghosts, or Tea For Children, please drop me an ask! I only request no Curseforge exclusives and no Zer0.
On to the list:
Allow Stoves in University Housing -> Zerbu, No University Housing Restrictions
Auto Employees -> Kuttoe's "X Everywhere" mods, Zerbu's Spawn Refresh
Auto-Light Fireplaces Only When Cold -> Bienchen, fireplaceautonomytweak
Buy Treats via PC -> Bienchen, buypettreat
Calendar Tweaks -> Kuttoe, Less Frequent Prom (caveat: takes time to start working, especially if you're using a longer season setting)
Cookbooks -> ClaudiaSharon, Cook Experimental/Cultural/Jungle Food Without Tasting It First
Immortality Potion Fix -> Kuttoe, Potions Rework (only a half replacement- removes the VFX, but doesn't lock aging like the Scarlet/LMS mod)
Kids Can Walk Dogs -> ChippedSim, Paws & Claws (A Sim's Best Friend module)
More Away Actions -> Bienchen, awayactions (is actually included in the LMS mod)
No Burning Sun in Forgotten Hollow -> TwistedMexi, Daywalkers + Underworlds (caveat: per TMex's comment on the latter, the eternal night is only cosmetic and still requires Daywalkers for vampires to come out at "daytime". Also, Daywalkers affects all worlds. Still interested in a mod closer to LMS's if one exists!)
No Insects Herbalism -> Simularity, Improved Herbalism Potions & Features
No Shoe Sign Animation -> Lotharihoe, Shoe Sign Animation Tweaks (doesn't remove the animation entirely but does stop it from interrupting walking)
No Sick, Dirty, Sad and Hungry Pets -> Bienchen, catanddogsanity
Pregnancy Overhaul ("sims can do more" part) -> Bienchen, pregnantsimscandomore
Pregnancy Overhaul (belly sizes) -> t0nischwartz, No Bump or sonozakisisterssims4, "The belly in pregnancy depends on the number of babies" (the former is simpler but has no equivalent to the "larger belly" option, the latter has a bit more going on but has direct equivalents to LMS's sizes, so take your pick!)
Sleep All Night and Sleep In -> Midnitetech- Stay Asleep, Mokunoid- Better Sleep Autonomy or Lot 51- Sunrise depending on desired depth/customization
Social Activities -> adeepindigo, Youth, Friends and Family Activities
Small GF Reactions Overhaul -> Bienchen, lesscelebreact
Small Laundry Overhaul -> Bienchen's laundry mods cover some (but not all- anyone have something to make it cost money on community lots?) of it, along with Lotharihoe's No Autonomously Set Laundry Down to replace the "auto put away laundry" part.
Spar With For Everyone -> Bienchen, sparwithfornonmilitary
Toddler Ask For Food No Junk -> Bienchen, healthyhighchair (not quite the same thing but it solves the "why do they always give the kid chips" issue at least)
WEE: Working Elevators Everywhere -> Ravasheen, Uplifting Elevators (space and wall height permitting, it's also possible to make no-CC elevators with the RoM debug portals!)
Wellness Treat Fix -> Bienchen, petanxiousbufffix
Also, while I wasn't using either of them myself, Meet&Mingle can replace SimDa Dating App, and Lovestruck adds a "canon" dating app (though given EA's complete lack of attention to QA etc. I wouldn't recommend paying for it.)
edit 6/26/24: added Sunrise, petanxiousbufffix, pregnantsimscandomore
edit 6/27/24: added No Bump, moved into a new post.
edit 6/29/24: added Daywalkers, No University Housing Restrictions (ty @northernnightsky!) and the sonozakisisters bump mod
edit 7/2/24: added Underworlds (ty anon), Paws & Claws, and a link to the tutorial I followed for no-CC elevators
edit 8/22/24: added Spawn Refresh
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Patch Updates #2
As always delete old Mods Files and the localthumbcache, when updating my Mods!
Here is the second round of Patch Updates. More smaller will follow step by step the next days.
1.103.228/250 Patch Update Autonomous Gardening Autonomous Pay Bills at Computers Housewarming Party (instead of Welcome Wagon) Improved Kids Night Light Objects don’t share Inventory (Reupload!) More Servings Options (Better Meal Menu) Sell more self made Woodwork at the Flea Market Better Butler Better Nanny Let Friends Age Up Pregnancy Overhaul (Can do more)
Random Small Mods Spar with Sim
My Site with all possible Download Links: lms-mods.com
Support Questions via Discord only please!
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