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Local Natives - Sunlit Youth Stimboard!
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#local natives#sunlit youth#albums#music#stimboard#paint#plants#stim toys#pottery#food#body image#time lapse#our stuff#stim#flashing tw
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Local Natives - Dark Days
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“Chad,” Lugh’s voice wavers ever so slightly, a crumpled piece of paper clutched tightly in his fist, “this can’t be true, can it? We saw Lord Roy stop the Demon Dragon with our own eyes..! Do you think it could be—“ His first thought is Bern, and soon the flames of anger are stoked in his heart. The thought of Guinevere pleading to Roy to end her brother’s madness, only to continue his conquest behind their backs—
“..Do you think we should go..? I’m worried about the littles— but..” He had left home with a purpose, to return to Elibe with the strength to protect, but even so..was he doomed to have to fight for the rest of his life? “..Are you going to go, Chad?”
The first and only thing on Chad's mind is to pack up everything he needs, as fast as possible, and head onto the next ship sailing for Elibe — Saints be damned, if he has to stow away, he will. It isn't anger that spurs him onward this time, but fear — Fear he'll lose what little he managed to keep for being selfish, for chasing what he should've never even dreamed of — Why would he have time for growth when he should be there to provide? Wide brown eyes turn to Lugh, the bundle of supplies obvious in his arms as he does so.
"Lugh."
He knows Lugh. He knows Lugh like the lock in his bedroom door, like the places Father used to like hiding the snacks. He sees the anger kindle in Lugh's eyes, in a place he can recognise it. The fear freezes over in an instant, because he can't be scared in front of Lugh. One fire stokes another, dragon-fire and a holdover vendetta rearing its ugly head again. He can see it — Death brought not on the wings of Bernese wyverns, but on those of a legion of war-wyrms.
His jaw clenches. His teeth bare without his meaning to. He directs it towards the window, looking out in the direction of home. He knows Lugh… And if this is anything like last time, he'll try to come along. Anguish crosses Chad's face for half a second, in the pinch of his brows, the raise of his lip.
"I'm going." He says, with finality. "I don't care if anyone thinks I shouldn't. I'm not leaving the kids alone. I'm sick of losing family." Unsaid: you're part of that too.
A pause, fall turning back to meet spring. "And I don't know what's going on for sure. But if it's that... Then I'll fight, with everything I've got."
#vyndicta#;answered#thanks eleven these kids are making me feel insnae#;s. our sunlit fields of youth | lugh#;e. sabbam vitatham
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When Night Comes
Platonic Yandere Vampire
Next Part
Chapter 1. 𝓥𝓮𝓷𝓲, 𝓿𝓲𝓭𝓲, 𝓪𝓿𝓪𝓭𝓲.
Dorian de Beauvoir was an old soul. Something people would often never notice. After all, with his youthful features, no one would think he was past his thirties. He was attractive and he knew it. Blonde with blue eyes, the duke was often approached by ladies and gentlemen. Most encounters didn't end well for these people. If only they knew. If only they knew what he really was. Because behind all this pleasant — and perfect, dare he say — exterior, hid a monster. Dorian was a vampire, a creature of the night lurking in the shadows, ever watchful for unsuspecting victims to sate his unholy hunger.
This, in fact, was exactly what he was doing this afternoon. While he had a chevalier ring, shielding him from the effects of the sun, his preference was to hunt under the veil of night or during overcast days, when more humans ventured into these forests under a less harsh daylight.
Among these sunlit wanderers was a young maiden. Dorian could hear her footsteps and the faint hum of a tune as she ventured into a woodland clearing. Her attire, a simple woolen dress with an apron, bore the marks of labor and grime. It didn't take long for him to discern her as a peasant girl, no older than fifteen. With a determined expression, she foraged for mushrooms, collecting them diligently in her wicker basket.
She didn't notice him, too focused on her task to pay mind to anyone else. She was young. He typically avoided feeding on children, and yet, he found himself unable to look away. Still, Dorian observed from a distance. He himself wasn't sure why. Perhaps it had been because of the gaping hole he felt in his chest. Loneliness. A curse many vampires were accustomed to.
Once she was done with her task, she sat on the grass. Closing her eyes and sighing, she seemed to be exhausted by the work. The sun had set not long ago and Dorian questioned whether she intended to return home at all.
His decision was made, he left his vantage point and approached her quietly. "The sun has set," he spoke, causing the young lady to jump with a start. "Do you not have a place to be?"
She appeared surprised. Vampires had this ability to creep up on mortals without them noticing. The girl stood up abruptly.
"I— Yes," the peasant confirmed before beginning to walk away quickly.
"Let me accompany you." He followed her and soon caught up to her. "A young girl such as yourself shouldn't walk alone at this hour of the day," he commented, justifying himself as he added a pleasant smile.
"That won't be necessary," assured the girl, "my Lord," she added, noticing his expensive attire.
"I insist."
And that was that. He had spoken with conviction, showcasing how he wouldn't change his mind. She looked tense, but didn't dare to refuse.
"Do you live nearby ?" He asked after a long moment of silence. She nodded mutely.
His attempts at small tasks proved to be fruitless, but he didn't mind too much. Nevertheless, the journey proved brief, as they reached a small cottage at the forest's edge within a quarter of an hour. Dorian's reaction was immediate—a derisive sneer contorted his features as he regarded the humble dwelling with disdain.
This... thing wasn't even the size of his wardrobe. It was a humble structure, its thatched roof weathered by time and rough-hewn wooden walls bearing the scars of years. The simplicity of the cottage's design and construction was an eyesore to the noble, who was accustomed to the grandeur of opulent manors and palaces. The dichotomy was painfully apparent.
A light chuckle escaped Dorian's lips as he surveyed the unimpressive abode. "This place?" He inquired almost rhetorically, his tone unimpressed by the humble dwelling.
The girl's demeanor stiffened visibly, and her response came with a touch of defensiveness. "Yes, it's my home," she almost snapped, a trace of pride in her voice.
His smile wavered, an odd sensation settling in his chest. It seemed as though she didn't quite belong here, amidst such simplicity. He looked down at the little mortal. He felt as if she shouldn't be here.
The door cracked open, a woman that looked quite similar to the little girl came out. Her mother. He narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw.
"(Y/N)," called the woman with a relieved smile. She put a hand on her hips and pointed at the young girl. "You were supposed to come back before the sunset, young lady," she scolded her with maternal authority.
(Y/n) appeared sheepish. "Sorry, mom," she said, a bit embarrassed. "I ventured a bit farther than I usually do. On the bright side, I found more mushrooms."
The mother sighed good naturedly before turning to Dorian. She now looked uncomfortable. "I apologize for my daughter, my Lord," she hastily said, her hand moving protectively to grasp her daughter's arm. "I hope she didn't cause any trouble."
The man's indifferent face shifted into a charming smile. "I can assure you she didn't," he answered. "I simply found this young lady alone in the woods and suggested bringing her back home."
The peasant woman expressed her gratitude with a touch of hesitation before they exchanged pleasantries and bade each other farewell. Dorian continued on his path, returning to his hunt, but his thoughts lingered on the girl. He couldn't help but wonder if this chance encounter had left as indelible a mark on her as it had on him.
#platonic yandere#yandere platonic#yandere vampire#yandere father#obsession#yandere#vampire#platonic#x reader#female reader#reader insert#child reader#yandere x reader
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anthy and saionji both have long wavy hair, but anthy mostly keeps it pinned up and saionji mostly lets it loose, and they have have inverse hair and eye color schemes. the colors of purple and green operate symbolically within utena in a far less immediately noticeable way than the colors of white, red, or yellow, but they nonetheless perform a necessary symbolic function within the narrative.
we are told in ep 13 ("tracing a path") that the "green duels" (ie, utena's first two duels against saionji) represent "amitié" and "choix" (friendship and choice), while the duel called "révolution" is dark purple. in her initial duels, utena fights for friendship (for wakaba), and then makes the active choice to win so as to keep anthy from saionji's clutches. but "raison," "amour," and "adoration" don't follow this pattern. miki is the one who fights out of "reason," juri is the one who fights out of love, and nanami is the one who fights out of adoration (for touga). you could of course also argue that utena mirrors their desires in various ways: like miki, utena thinks that her desire to participate in the duels is logical rather than driven by ego; like juri, utena is a closeted lesbian who fights for an idealized love object; and like nanami, utena fights out of adoration for her prince. but they are more superficially describing miki, juri, and nanami’s motivations than utena’s. moreover, utena's fights against touga, "conviction" and "soi," go back to primarily representing utena's emotions and motivations for fighting. and finally, the duel called revolution is, of course, not only utena's revolution, but, arguably more importantly, anthy's.
thus, reading these labeled ascribed to color symbolism is not as simple as attributing them 1:1 to different ideas. after all, red is an extremely prevalent color in utena, and reducing it simply to "conviction" and "soi" as akio does is willfully playing into his game of ignoring its significance as it functions as the color of [sexual] violence, among other things. the definitions of symbols we are presented with are not simply what the symbols "mean," but rather what the frame is indicating, and often obfuscating, and the onus is on us as viewers not simply to "decode" certain symbols present, but also to interpret and actively complicate them.
when it comes to saionji's duels, i think you can read these labels both ways; both as utena fighting for wakaba and then for anthy, but also as saionji choosing to fight due to his own complicated friendship. his sunlit garden is, after all, his memories with touga, and his primary motivator and desire for "eternity" is his infinitely complicated desire to both surpass touga – beating him in a duel, acquiring the power he believes touga to already possess, etc. – and regress to a simpler point in their childhoods, which is why he also just refuses to let touga go despite actively loathing the person touga has become.
his hair is green and eminently noticeable, both because it is genuinely beautiful, and also because he basically only ever ties it up when practicing kendo. kendo is when he is most in his element (arguably the only times he is ever in his element and not painfully awkward and cringeworthy), and is also the one thing he actually has that proves that he is superior to touga in some concrete way. but in his student council uniform, he keeps his hair long and loose, like an open wound bleeding out everywhere.
anthy, on the other hand, keeps her long, beautiful, purple hair tied up, and only ever lets it down in her most intimate and vulnerable moments. unlike saionji, who is a pathetic open book, anthy never wears her heart on her sleeve (she claims she doesn't even have a heart). she is always guarded. when she lets her hair down, she looks like an entirely different person. she looks far younger, far more girlish. akio exploits that youth and vulnerability, while utena connects with it as her peer who feels empathy and compassion for her friend's suffering. anthy's purple hair signifies revolution both in the sense that as the rose bride and an "extension" of akio, she perpetuates the infinite cycle of futile stasis, and in the sense that she ultimately does emerge from her coffin and leaves ohtori behind.
so why are her eyes green, and saionji's eyes purple? this inversion is deliberate, of course. to be reductive, anthy has the eyes of "friendship and choice," and saionji has the eyes of "revolution." if hair represents how characters are perceived and interpreted by the gaze of the other, then eyes represent the character's internal gaze projected outwards — or more simply, their worldview. anthy's purple signifies both the coffin as eternal prison and its revolutionary potential upon leaving it. who is most insistent that we must leave our coffins prepared for us by end of the world? and who is given the opportunity to egress through expulsion, but also finds that even as he wishes to escape his coffin, something keeps him miserably moored in ohtori, even as he resists its thrall?
saionji is the character most vocally outspoken against the system, and not only the system of fighting to possess a girl, which is obviously, gratuitously objectionable, but the very premise of ohtori in itself, the system of school as coffin. but he is also the first character we are introduced to who participates in it, and he subscribes to anthy's abuse and exploitation wholeheartedly, almost demonically. even those within ohtori's walls can condemn saionji's blatant, uncouth mode of abuse; unlike the covert and obscured sexual violence permeating ohtori's hallowed halls, saionji's physical violence cannot be obfuscated, and it makes him a target of punishment through satisfying humiliation. everyone enjoys schadenfreude at the expense of a violent misogynist. meanwhile, touga is equally as pathetic and humiliating if not more so, but his methods of violence are less obvious, and due to wholly subscribing to the narrative (ie, akio) and operating within that frame, he cannot be made an object of ridicule as saionji is. saionji is both ridiculed because it is funny to watch a perpetrator of domestic abuse get turned into a monkey, and because his cogent insights must be undermined through mockery within the confines of a narrative he actively attempts to resist.
anthy, on the other hand has green eyes, as does akio. anthy's sunlit garden, if you can even call it that, was her memories of dios as prince. such a memory is only depicted through the falsity of theatrical shadows, an illusion projected onto the literal stage quite like the illusions akio projects across his entire domain. we are then given insight into a "truer" memory (still nonetheless complicated by anachronistic signifiers and the haze of allegory and illusion). but, we are told, anthy made the choice to sacrifice herself for dios. she bore all the pain and suffering of humanity's hatred for years out of love for her brother. what is utena if not a show about friendship and choice? who is anthy if not a young, scared girl who loved too deeply and paid the ultimate price for it?
utena wants to be dios, but touga wants to be akio. anthy attaches herself to dios-as-akio, and saionji attaches himself to touga-as-akio. "you remind me so much of dios when i loved him." the memory of a person you once truly loved, taking on a completely different name in memoriam of that past version, trapped in the perfect stasis of memory, the sunlit garden of the mind, that will never go to seed. the touga of nanami's memories, the touga of saionji's memories, and the touga of the present, are three different people, functionally speaking (and this isn't even getting into the touga of utena's memories in adolescence). just as anthy resents the akio of the present who conflicts with her ideals of dios in the past, saionji attaches himself to a memory of touga, doing everything in his power not only to break free of his own coffin, but to help touga escape his. if anthy fears that utena becoming dios will result in her turning into akio proper, saionji's fear is even more potent, as touga is already in the process of becoming akio, and there is seemingly nothing left to do but become his rose bride.
there is also the obvious fact that, while a distinctly different shade, ohtori school uniforms, especially the boys' uniforms, are largely green. and saionji's kendo outfit is partially purple (albeit a lighter purple than anthy's hair) and partially black (like utena’s shirt). akio/anthy's green eyes can thus be read as their entrenched roles within the walls of ohtori, while saionji's purple hakama when he a) is situated in his element (kendo) and b) says "no matter how you may be abused, you're always happy to be near the one you love" (for which he is immediately dismissed) may signify his latent "princeliness," both as he participates in the system of exploitation and abuse, and as he attempts to resist it.
ultimately, saionji and anthy's inverse color scheme constitutes merely one facet of a much larger tapestry of color symbolism, which could be analyzed endlessly, and lies far beyond the scope of this single post. i merely wanted to draw attention to anthy and saionji's roles not only as visual foils, but also as thematic complements. two coffin-dwellers, trapped in a system that explicitly harms them and harming others in the process (including each other). two sides of the same rose bride paradox. two self-destructive cynics. two idealists who, no matter how they may be abused, are always happy to be near the one they love.
#u#analysis#manalysis#anthy#saionji#akio#utena#touga#eye colors go so fucking crazy#remind me to talk about the utena miki isms next
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in this lifetime and the other — yoon jeonghan (A)
Sypnosis: Growing old with your significant other is a life goal. Your secret? Spending time with each other, cherishing every moment as if it were your last. But as the years passed, you begin to realize that remembering these moments was becoming increasingly difficult.
✦ pairing: husband!yoon jeonghan x wife!reader
✦ genre: heavy angst with a sprinkle of fluff
✦ word count: 8k
✦ warnings: reader has dementia, major character death
A gentle hush enveloped the morning in the heart of a serene nursing home. Within its comforting walls, the residents engage in activities — seasoned hands delicately weave intricate patterns in a tapestry of memories. Nearby, the aroma of freshly baked goods wafted through the air as a small gathering eagerly absorbed the secrets of the kitchen. In a sunlit corner, brushes danced upon canvases, bringing to life vibrant hues and silent narratives.
Each of these elders bore witness to history, and their stories carried the weight of generations. It was a humbling experience, conversing with individuals who had traversed the many twists and turns of life, each one holding a treasure trove of meaningful anecdotes and invaluable wisdom. It was something that would make someone stop in their tracks, compelled to listen to their stories.
The nurses moved about the nursing home with efficiency, their kind smiles and warming presence a constant reassurance to the residents. As the day unfolded, families visited, filling the halls with laughter and warmth. Children darted around, their youthful energy a stark contrast to the slower pace of the elders. Amidst the hustle and bustle of visitors coming and going, there were quiet moments of tenderness – a grandchild holding their grandparent's hand, a daughter brushing her mother's hair, a son sharing stories from his own life.
"Good morning, my love," the old man's voice, gently broke the stillness of the morning. His eyes, soft with affection, met yours as you stirred awake, the unfamiliar term of endearment sending a ripple of confusion through your mind. You searched your memory in vain, trying to place him in the of tapestry your life, but he remained a stranger in your memory.
As you lay in bed, a faint sensation tickled the inside of your nose, a subtle reminder of the apparatus supporting your breathing. With a gentle touch, the old man reached out, his weathered fingers brushing aside strands of your hair that had fallen across your face.
"Who are you? If I may ask?"
Blankly, you stared back at him, searching the depths of your mind for any semblance of recognition. But try as you might, his face remained a puzzle, an enigma shrouded.
Your voice grew faint, barely audible in the quietude of the room, yet the old man's keen ears caught the whisper of sound. A gentle smile graced his features as he gazed back at you. For him, you were not just a stranger lost in the labyrinth of forgetfulness, but a cherished figure, a memory preserved in the amber of his heart.
And as he looked upon you, it was not with the eyes of a stranger, but with the eyes of a lover, whose heart still beat with the fervor of a long-cherished romance.
"I'm your husband." He reached out for your hand, cradling it in his own palm, his touch a soothing caress against the back of your hand.
Staring at him in disbelief, you struggled to reconcile this revelation with the fragmented memories that flickered dimly in the recesses of your mind, "I'm married?"
You added, voice lacing with confusion, "How long have I been married to you?"
A sudden impulse drew your gaze to your hand, and there, resting on your finger, gleamed a simple yet elegant wedding ring. With trembling fingers, you traced the contours of the ring, feeling its weight against your skin.
"73 years. October 1951."
"What year is it now?"
"2024." As your husband spoke, a wave of disbelief washed over you, rendering you momentarily speechless. You glanced at him, unable to comprehend the gravity of his words. His expression was etched with sorrow, lines of concern creasing his face.
You felt a pang of desperation clawing at the edges of your mind. You struggled to recall the name of the man before you, the one who claimed to be your husband. It felt like grasping at fleeting shadows, trying to hold onto something that slipped further away.
But then, like a bolt of lightning cutting through the darkness, his name surged forth from the depths of your memory.
"Jeonghan."
The corners of his mouth lifted ever so slightly, forming a gentle curve. In that moment, any shadow of sadness seemed to vanish from his face, replaced instead by a glimmer of hope that danced in his eyes.
He gently cupped your cheeks. With a softness in his gaze, he leaned forward, closing the distance between you, until his lips met yours in a slow, tender peck. It was a moment Jeonghan wished could last forever. "Yes, sweetheart. It's me."
You smiled back at him, a flicker of warmth lighting up your face, but behind the facade of calmness, a whirlwind of questions still raged within your mind. Despite the tender moment you shared, there were still countless uncertainties gnawing at your consciousness.
Suddenly, there was a gentle knock on the door, and your nurse entered, a tray of breakfast in her hands. The aroma of freshly brewed tea and warm pastries filled the room.
"Good morning, Mr. and Mrs. Yoon." She set the tray down on the bedside table, arranging the food with care before turning her attention to you and your husband by your side.
"Thank you, Nurse Kim. I hope you have a great day ahead." Jeonghan said to the nurse, his voice filled with genuine appreciation. Nurse Kim's face lit up with a smile at his words.
"I wish the same for you both. And by the way, your children will be visiting at lunchtime. They're bringing your grandchildren as well."
In an instant, a flood of emotions surged within you – disbelief, confusion, and a profound sense of wonder. How could it be possible that you had children with your husband sitting beside you, whose name you struggled to remember mere moments ago?
"How many children did we have?" You finally managed to croak out, your voice barely above a whisper. The question felt surreal. How many children had you brought into the world together? How could you have forgotten such a fundamental aspect of your lives?
Jeonghan, the old man whose hand she had held through the trials and triumphs of their marriage, looked at her with a mixture of sadness and understanding. Closing your eyes, you tried to conjure up memories of laughter and tears, of tiny hands, but all you found was an empty void.
"Three children and eight grandchildren."
As you struggled to make sense of it all, there came a strange sense of euphoria wash over you. It was exhilarating, overwhelming even, to be confronted with the gist of your adventure with him. Each revelation felt like a piece of a puzzle slotting into place, painting a clearer picture of who you both were and how you both came to be.
"I want to know more, Jeonghan."
"About what?"
"Us."
June 28, 1947 — Santa Monica, California
Summer had arrived in all its glory, painting the world in hues of warmth and vibrancy. For you and your friends, the promise of adventure beckoned from afar, carried on the breeze that whispered through the trees. It was a day like any other, yet tinged with the anticipation of something extraordinary—a trip to the carnival.
As you walked along the path leading to the fairgrounds, you couldn't contain the excitement bubbling within you. The sun cast a golden glow upon the landscape, illuminating.
"It's been too long since we've had a day like this." Jihyo remarked, her voice filled with excitement.
Nayeon nodded in agreement, her eyes sparkling, "I've been counting down the days until we could finally come here together."
"And just imagine all the rides and games waiting for us." Sana chimed in, her enthusiasm contagious.
With each step, the sounds of laughter and music grew louder, mingling with the sweet scent of cotton candy and popcorn that hung in the air. The carnival beckoned to them like a beacon of joy.
As you stepped through the entrance gate, all of you were immediately engulfed in copious sights and sounds. Colorful booths lined the pathways, each one offering its own array of delights and attractions. The air was alive with the melodies of carnival music and the laughter of children.
You begin to reminisce, "Remember when we were in preschool, we used to come to the carnival with our parents every summer and see who could eat the most cotton candy?"
Jihyo nodded in agreement, a soft smile playing on her lips. "It's amazing how something as simple as cotton candy can transport us back to our childhoods."
But amidst the laughter and sugary treats, a more serious topic lingered in the back of their minds—college plans. With graduation looming on the horizon, the future weighed heavily on their minds, each of them grappling with their own hopes and dreams for the years to come.
"So, have you guys thought about what you want to major in?" Sana asked, her tone tinged with curiosity.
Jihyo nodded thoughtfully, her expression contemplative. "I've been thinking about being a teacher. There's something incredibly rewarding about teaching kids."
"How about you, Amelia?"
"That, I still don't know," You admitted, tone tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "To be honest, I'm still figuring out what I want to pur-"
As you were engrossed in conversation with your friends, you felt a something hard and heavy beneath you. Startled, you came to an abrupt halt as you see a football nestled at your feet. The impact was gentle, and you felt no pain, but the unexpected interruption had caught you completely off guard.
"My apologies if I've caused any inconvenience." A young man approached you, exclaiming breathlessly with a sheepish grin spreading across his face. You glanced down at the football in your hands, realizing that it belonged to him.
You handed the football back to him, "It's quite alright, not a major concern."
Both of your eyes met in a collision of worlds. His eyes, like rich orbs of deep, soulful pools of brown, bore into her, delving into the very depths of her being. They were more than just windows to a universe unknown; they were gateways to unexplored realms. How could someone have eyes so irresistible, like this young man standing before you?
Your mind raced with memories of high school football games and cheers that echoed through the bleachers. It was then that you remembered him—a key player on the team. Despite the familiarity, you couldn't let the conversation falter into awkwardness. With a gentle smile, you decided to break the ice with an obvious question.
You began, "Hey, aren't you…?"
He nodded, a smile spreading across his face. "Yeah, that's me."
"I thought I recognized you from somewhere." You admitted, a playful twinkle in your eye.
--- end of flashback ----
"The summer of 1947?" Frustration welled up as you struggled to grasp, eager to piece together the sentiments of your high school years. Yet, despite the efforts, not a single memory replayed in your mind. Instead, you found herself hanging onto every word as your husband regaled you with stories from your past.
Jeonghan nodded. His tales painted vivid images in your mind, with each word that flowed from his lips, his voice filled with warmth and nostalgia.
You felt a sense of wonder and fascination, as if you were discovering a part of yourself that had long been forgotten. It was as though through his eyes, you were able to glimpse a version of yourself that you had once been.
"The day after that, and the day after that, we went on dates."
August 3, 1947 — Malibu, California
Jeonghan led you to a secluded spot just near his family's beach house. Despite the bustling crowds that filled the shoreline, he guided you to a hidden spot known only to him.
As you followed him, his fingers intertwined with yours, the cacophony of laughter faded into the background and was replaced by the soothing rhythm of the ocean lapping against the shore. In this secret sanctuary, you found yourselves surrounded by the beauty of nature—a pristine stretch of sand framed by towering cliffs and swaying palm trees. The air was heavy with the scent of salt and sea breeze.
"Do you bring your friends here?" You asked, your voice carrying over the gentle lull of the ocean.
"It's the first time I brought someone here." Jeonghan's words stir a flurry of emotions with butterflies fluttering in your stomach, their delicate wings dancing to the rhythm of your racing heart.
"I always go here whenever I feel the happiest." He confessed, his voice soft and filled with emotion. "And I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather share it with than you."
You couldn't help but smile at him, "It's beautiful."
"Just like you, Amelia."
The sand felt soft beneath your feet, and you relished the sensation of the grains slipping between your toes. The sun hung low on the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the landscape as it began its descent towards the ocean. You stole a glance at Jeonghan, your heart skipping a beat at the sight of him.
He returned your gaze, his eyes shimmering in the golden rays of the sun, casting an ethereal glow over his glorious face. It was as though he was painted by the very hues of twilight, his presence captivating and mesmerizing. You found yourself getting lost once more in the depths of his gaze, unable to tear your eyes away from the magnetic pull of his stare.
Without a word, you and Jeonghan dashed across the sandy shore, your laughter blending in with the salty sea breeze. As you danced along the shoreline with him, the cares of the world melted away, leaving only the two of you, and the endless expanse of the ocean stretching out before you.
Your eyes sparkled with mischief as you scooped up a handful of seawater and flicked it at Jeonghan, your laughter ringing out like chimes in the breeze. Not to be outdone, Jeonghan retaliated with a playful splash of his own, the cool droplets landing on your shoulders.
Jeonghan's strong arms cradle you, his touch igniting a sense of security. As you wade deeper into the embrace of the ocean, the cool water envelops you, a welcome respite from the heat of the day. The waves rise and fall, each one cool and refreshing against your sunkissed skin.
Together, you and Jeonghan venture further into the deep waters, your bodies swaying effortlessly with the gentle currents. It is as though the sea itself has come alive, enfolding you in its embrace.
A tranquil stillness enveloped the ocean, and the tumultuous crashing of waves gradually subsided as Jeonghan delicately moved your hair aside. His gaze conveyed nothing but love and tenderness. With trembling anticipation, you watched as Jeonghan's gaze lowered to your lips, his movements deliberate and unhurried as he bridged the gap between you.
As your lips met in a kiss, time seemed to freeze, momentarily suspending all else—the roar of the waves, the whisper of the breeze, and the worries of the world. In that fleeting moment, there existed only the two of you, locked in an eternal embrace, your hearts beating as one.
"You're the best thing that ever happened to me, Amelia."
The water feels like silk against your skin, a lover's caress that soothes your soul. You lose yourself in the sensation, in the sheer bliss of being alive in this moment with Jeonghan by your side.
And as the sunset dances upon your faces, you know deep in your heart that this is where you belong—by his side.
December 24, 1948 — New York City
Christmas in New York had always been a cherished dream for you ever since you first set foot in the city during your college years. The twinkling lights adorning the streets, the festive decorations decking every corner, and the palpable sense of joy in the air—it was a magical experience you looked forward to each year.
And of course, having Jeonghan alongside you in the bustling city, only added to the excitement. Together, you navigated the crowded streets, hand in hand, soaking in the holiday spirit that permeated every inch of the city.
Perched on a bench nestled on the enchanting landscape of Central Park, you and Jeonghan found yourselves entranced by the captivating scene unfolding before you. The tranquil atmosphere of the park was alive with the mirthful laughter of children, their gleeful voices echoing across the ice skating rink.
A comfortable silence surrounded you, broken only by the occasional soft murmurs of conversation from passersby.
His hand found yours, but you couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss. Jeonghan seemed unusually subdued, his typically vibrant demeanor overshadowed by a veil of quiet contemplation.
You stole a glance at him, noting the furrowed brow and the distant look in his eyes. Concern gnawed at the edges of your consciousness, urging you to reach out, to break the silence that stretched between you like an unspoken barrier.
"Is everything alright?" You asked softly, your voice barely above a whisper, but the words hung heavy in the air, laden with unspoken worry.
"Sweetheart, I'm leaving for London in a week." He said, his voice tinged with sadness.
On one hand, you couldn't help but feel overwhelming joy and pride as you watched him bask in the glow of his achievement—a scholarship to one of London's most esteemed universities. It was a dream come true, and you couldn't be happier for him.
Yet, beneath the surface, a wave of melancholy threatened to engulf you. The reality of his impending departure loomed. "Well, isn't that great news, my love?"
You tried to push aside your fears, to focus on the positive—the opportunities and adventures that awaited him in the bustling metropolis of London. But deep down, the prospect of a long-distance relationship lingered on your mind.
And as the day of his departure drew nearer, you found yourself grappling with a whirlwind of conflicting emotions—joy and sadness, hope and despair. But through it all, one thing remained constant—the bond that connected you, heart to heart.
He sighed, a heavy weight settling in his chest. There was no turning back now, "I don't know if I can bear to be apart from you for who knows how long."
That was his greatest concern—the uncertainty of what would become of the moments when you two were miles apart. With only letters as your primary form of communication, the distance between you would feel insurmountable. You knew that it was his dream, his aspiration to pursue his studies in London. Who were you to stand in the way of that?
The snow began to fall gently, swirling and twirling in the crisp winter air. The children, with their laughter echoing through the park, paused in their play to gaze up at the sky in wonder. Their faces lit up as they reached out to catch the falling snowflakes, their breath forming small puffs of white in the chill of the evening air. It was a moment of pure magic.
"Don't let this slip through your fingers." You reached out, your hand trembling as you tried to comfort him, but deep down, you couldn't bear the thought of him leaving. Every aspect of your existence rebelled against the idea of him being so far away.
You knew deep down that you had to accept this chapter of your lives, as painful as it may be. As much as it hurt you to see him go, it was a part of life, and it won't be like this forever.
You wrapped your arms around him tightly, pulling him close as if trying to merge your souls in a hug. He nestled his head against your shoulder, his tears trickled with the falling snowflakes.
You held him for what felt like an eternity, cherishing every heartbeat, every breath, every fleeting moment you had left together. With a reassuring smile, you whispered, "I'll be waiting for you, my love." Your voice echoing with the weight of a thousand lifetimes.
"I'll come back for you, sweetheart." The sincerity in his voice tugged at your heartstrings.
May 8, 1949 — New York City
Ever since Jeonghan left for London, you had been receiving letters from him every month without fail. Every month, like clockwork, each envelope carried a piece of his life in London, his experiences, his struggles, and his triumphs. But amidst the vivid descriptions and anecdotes, there was always one recurring theme—his unwavering love for you.
In his letters, he conversed his soul, seeking solace in the thought that you were there, waiting for him on the other side of the world. It was a promise that echoed in every sentence and sentiment.
-
January 2, 1949
London, England
To the love of my life,
How are you, my darling? I hope this letter finds you well and wrapped in the warmth of our love, even from miles apart. It's only been a week since I left, but it feels like an eternity without you here with me. The days stretch on endlessly, each moment aching with your absence. Yet, amidst the longing, the thought of you—your smile, your laughter, and your love fill the empty spaces in my heart.
London is a breathtaking place. And as I wander through its winding alleys, I can't help but imagine you by my side, your hand in mine as we explore this beautiful city together. I long for the day when I can take you here in London, to show you all the wonders that await us in this place.
But until then, my love, know that you are always in my heart. Distance may keep us apart for now, but our love knows no bounds.
My heart is yours. I love you, my darling Amelia.
Love,
Jeonghan
-
February 28, 1949
London, England
To the love of my life,
As I sit here in my room, surrounded by the bustle of university life, thoughts of you fill my mind and heart, bringing me peace and comfort in the midst of my studies. I must say, studying biology here is an enriching experience, my love. The professors are truly dedicated, and the training is rigorous.
I want you to know that I am not taking any of these experiences for granted. I want nothing more than for this dream to be successful, not just for myself, but for us. I want to build a future that we've always dreamed of. I want to give you the life you deserve with me, sweetheart.
Sometimes, I find myself having slow mornings, and I must admit, I love it. There's something magical about the stillness of the early hours. It's in these moments that I feel most alive, most at peace with myself and the world around me. How wonderful it would be to share these quiet mornings with you, to bask in the sunlight together and savor the simple pleasures of life.
Just hang in there, my darling Amelia. Until the day we can be together again, know that I carry you with me always, in every sunrise, in every cup of coffee, in every beat of my heart.
I love you.
Love,
Jeonghan
-
March 24, 1949
London, England
To the love of my life,
My heart is overflowing with emotions, and I find myself compelled to share with you that I am top of the class. Your unwavering belief in me fuels my determination. Your love and support have been my guiding light, a constant source of strength and inspiration.
I can't help but long for you, my love. I want nothing more than to wrap you in my arms, to hold you close and celebrate this momentous occasion together. Your presence is the missing piece that would make this victory complete.
Just a bit more patience, my darling Amelia. Always keep in mind that I love you dearly.
Love,
Jeonghan
-
April 11, 1949
Cambridge, England
To the love of my life,
I applied for a spot in a football team, and I am overjoyed to tell you that I have been accepted. My training is scheduled every Saturday, and I am eager to dive headfirst into the challenges and victories that await me on the field.
However, I must admit that not everything has been smooth sailing. One of my teammates and I recently had a misunderstanding, but I want to assure you that it is nothing to worry about.
I want to let you know that my schedule is about to become quite hectic in the upcoming months. Between school, football, and other obligations, my days are quickly filling up with tasks and responsibilities that demand my attention. But amidst the flurry of activity that threatens to overwhelm me, there's something I want to promise you. I will do my best to make time for you, to carve out moments in my busy life to sit down and write you a letter.
You see, my love, you mean the world to me, and no matter how busy life gets, you will always hold a special place in my heart. Writing to you, sharing my thoughts and feelings with you, is a priority for me, one that I will never neglect or take for granted.
So please, bear with me during these hectic months, Know that even when I'm not physically present, my love for you remains unwavering, steadfast and true.
Sending you hugs and kisses!
Love,
Jeonghan
-
As the days stretched into weeks and then months, it became increasingly rare for you to find a letter from Jeonghan waiting in your mailbox. At first, you eagerly anticipated each delivery. But as time wore on, the letters grew scarce.
Your lives were like ships passing in the night, each of you navigating different paths, pursuing separate dreams. Jeonghan was immersed in the demanding world of medicine. Meanwhile, you were fully engrossed in your own studies, chasing after your aspirations in education, much like your close friend Jihyo.
"The mailman rarely comes by our place anymore. Has something happened between you and Jeonghan?" Your mother's concerned gaze pierced through the air as she spoke, her voice tinged with worry. She was used to seeing the mailman's familiar figure, always arriving with a handful of letters from your lover. But now, he seemed to be everywhere but your home.
The absence of his letters weighed heavily on your heart. It had become routine, almost expected, to not receive any letters from Jeonghan. At first, you had held onto hope, clinging to the belief that perhaps this time would be different, that a letter would arrive bearing news of his adventures and endeavors. Hope began to wane, replaced by resignation and acceptance.
You had grown accustomed to the silence. Deep down, you still held onto the belief that someday, somehow, Jeonghan would reach out to you, that your paths would cross once again, and the silence would be broken by the sound of his voice.
--- end of flashback ----
You listened to Jeonghan, "You thought I was cheating on you."
"But believe it or not," he continued, his voice softening with sincerity, "I always talked about you to my friends. You were always on my mind, your name constantly on the tip of my tongue. I made sure everyone knew you were my girlfriend."
In the depths of his soul, you were the epitome of beauty, a vision of grace and elegance that captivated his heart from the moment he laid eyes on you. Despite the distance that separated the two of you, he made it his mission to ensure that the world knew you were his, that you were loved beyond measure.
For Yoon Jeonghan, you were not just a fleeting fancy or a passing infatuation, but the anchor that kept him grounded in a sea of uncertainty.
You struggled to recall so many details of your shared past. But despite the fog that clouded your mind, he made sure you knew one thing with absolute certainty – you had spent seventy three years of love with this person.
To you, it felt like a lifetime.
"When did you come back?" You asked, drowsy.
November 15, 1950 — Boston, Masachussets
The bell rang, a familiar sound echoing through the halls of the prestigious private middle school, signaling the end of another day of classes. With a sigh of relief, you gathered your belongings as you made your way towards the exit.
The halls were bustling with activity as students hurried to their lockers, chatting excitedly about plans for the upcoming weekend.
However, the dreary sight of raindrops pelting against the glass windows dismayed you. The once sunny skies had transformed into a gloomy expanse, the sound of thunder echoing in the distance.
To make matters worse, you realized with a sinking feeling that you hadn't brought your car along. Just when you needed it the most, the weather took a turn.
"Miss Park, someone named Yoon Jeonghan is looking for you."
A chill ran down your spine as your colleague uttered his name. It was a name that once held so much significance, evoking memories of love, shared dreams, and whispered promises. But now, it sent a wave of uncertainty crashing over you.
Your body tensed as you processed the information, the mere mention of his name causing your heart to ache. You proceeded to the to clock out, each step weighed down by a mixture of trepidation.
There he was, sitting on one of the benches just outside the main exit.
The pain in your heart is excruciating. It's unbearable.
You had finally found peace in letting go, in moving forward without him by your side. But now, his unexpected return threatens to upend the fragile balance you've worked so hard to achieve, just when you've come to accept everything.
Jeonghan came back, but at what cost?
"I am so sorry, sweetheart." He approached you, and those were the first words he stated. You felt a knot form in your stomach as you looked into his eyes, searching for answers, for a glimpse of the man you used to know.
Was it really that easy to go back to how things were after he left you hanging for a year without a word? It wasn't just about forgiving him, but confronting the unresolved feelings and unanswered questions that had haunted you for so long.
You knew deep down that you couldn't jump to conclusions without first hearing his side of the story. After all, you hadn't walked in his shoes or experienced firsthand whatever trials he had faced during his time in England. It wouldn't be fair to assume the worst without giving him the chance to explain himself.
But even as you grappled with your own doubts and insecurities, a part of you longed for answers, for closure, for the opportunity to lay bare the raw emotions that had festered in your heart during his absence.
The weight on your chest felt suffocating, and a dull ache began to throb in your throat as tears threatened to spill from your blurry eyes. It felt as though the weight of the world was bearing down on you.
You tried to swallow the lump in your throat, to suppress the rising tide of tears that threatened to spill from your eyes, but it was futile. The emotions pent up inside you demanded release.
And so, you walked on, the rain pouring down with increasing intensity, drenching you to the bone. Each step felt heavier than the last, weighed down by the burden of your emotions and the relentless downpour that seemed to mirror the turmoil within your soul.
There was nowhere to go, no destination to seek refuge from the storm raging both inside and out. You could have hailed a taxi, sought shelter in the warmth and comfort of your home, but something held you back.
You allowed your tears to fall freely, merging with the rain cascading down upon you. Each droplet was a testament to the pain and sorrow that weighed heavily on your heart.
"There is nothing to apologize for." You came in defense. Each recollection of those desperate moments, waiting for a letter that never came, stabbed at your heart like a dagger, reopening wounds you had thought had long since healed.
Once again, his touch enveloped both of your arms, but this time, it lacked the warmth and reassurance you once knew so well. His eyes, once bright with joy, now mirrored deep sadness and melancholy.
"The years that I was gone, shouldn't that be something that I need to apologize to you for?"
His thumb brushed away the tears that stained your cheeks, "Hear me out, please, darling?"
Your heart fluttered at his endearment, the familiar term of affection stirring emotions long buried beneath the surface. It had been so long since you had heard those words from him.
You missed it.
"School has been demanding lately," he confessed, his voice laced with regret. "I hardly could find time to write to you."
You whispered, "I know, you told me that in one of your letters."
He nodded in response, a weary sigh escaping his lips, and you could feel the weight of exhaustion radiating from him. You could see the fatigue etched into the lines of his face, the weariness in his eyes that spoke volumes of the pressure he was under. It was evident that school had been taking its toll on him, demanding every ounce of his energy and focus.
"And this, my love, I never told you…"
"My scholarship almost got revoked because I was involved in a fight."
He added, "That one guy in my football team…"
"You also wrote that in your letter, sweetheart." You replied.
He breathed heavily, the weight of his fatigue evident in the way his chest rose and fell with each labored breath. As he pulled you close, you could feel the tension in his muscles. His arms wrapped around you with a desperate strength, seeking solace and support in your embrace. And then, he buried his face against your shoulder.
"Life is so difficult without you." Jeonghan uttered a wistful response.
You stood together in the midst of the downpour, raindrops cascading around you like a curtain of silver threads. Your clothes clung to your skin, drenched from the relentless deluge, but neither of you paid it any mind. All Jeonghan wanted was for you to hold him tight, to drive his fears away, and to be with him.
He gazed into your eyes, and then, without a word, his lips met yours in a passionate kiss. It was a gesture you had both yearned for.
As his lips captured yours, you melted into the kiss, the world around you fading into insignificance. With a soft sigh, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, longing to feel every part of him pressed against you.
Breaking the kiss, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the space between you.
"Oh darling, I missed you so much," Jeonghan whispered, his voice filled with longing and sincerity. His arms tightened around you, as if afraid to let you go, as if trying to make up for all the time you had been apart.
"Please, don't ever leave me again." You implored, voice carrying the weight of your vulnerabilities.
He paused, interrupting the moment, "I won't."
"Because I'm taking you with me."
His hand delved into his pocket to retrieve a small, intricately decorated box. Your breath caught in your throat as he opened it, revealing a ring nestled within the cushions of the box. In that moment, everything seemed to fall into place. Everything suddenly became clear, as if the universe had been guiding you towards this moment all along.
"My darling, Amelia. I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Let's do life together."
"You know that it would always be a million times yes, Jeonghan."
---- end of flashback ----
"Oh my god." You whispered, a frail smile forming on your lips. It was as though you were reading a novel. With bated breath, you hung on to every detail, feeling the warmth of his voice wrap around you like a comforting blanket. "She must have had the best life with you."
"She did, darling. You had the best life with me."
The scene he described was so vivid, yet, you felt like a bystander in your own story, unable to grasp the memories that Jeonghan so fondly reminisced. It was as if his words belonged to another lifetime, another version of yourself that you could no longer access. You strained to remember the moments he shared, but they remained elusive.
"And then...what happened?" Keeping your eyes open proved to be challenging, and each breath felt like a burden, despite the equipment tethered to you.
"I married you, Amelia."
"Come again?"
"We're married for 73 years."
You found it difficult to keep pace with the man's words, each syllable feeling like a foreign language to your confused mind, as if your mind had been reset and you couldn't comprehend why. You searched his face, desperately seeking familiarity. Unfortunately, he was a person that your mind couldn't recognize.
"I'm sorry, what's your name?"
Jeonghan's patience was unwavering, a steadfast presence amidst the chaos of your fading consciousness. Each day seemed to chip away at the fragments of your memories, leaving behind a hollow shell of the person you once were. It was a heartbreaking ordeal for him to witness, like watching a beautiful painting slowly fade into obscurity.
You found yourself lost in a disorienting haze, where time seemed to ebb and flow like the tide. People and places blurred together in a jumble of indistinct shapes and sounds. It was a harrowing experience, to feel every part of you slowly succumbing to the relentless march of time. Memories faded into oblivion, leaving behind an empty void one could no longer fill.
"Yoon Jeonghan. You're my wife, and I'm your husband." He whispered softly, his voice laced with a mix of tenderness and longing.
"Did we have children?" You asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty.
"We have three. Two girls and one boy," he replied, his words carrying a weight of reminiscence. "You have eight grandchildren, as well."
Jeonghan added with a smile, "We promised that we'd finish college first before starting a family."
March 7, 1953 — Portofino, Italy
"Good morning, sweetheart." A faint whisper tickled your ear, and then, almost instinctively, you felt the embrace of Jeonghan's strong arms wrapping around you from behind.
Immediately, you shifted, turning to face him and melting into his embrace. His bare chest pressed against your own, the warmth of his skin radiating against you. You buried your face against his chest, inhaling the familiar scent of his skin, letting it wash over you like a wave of tranquility.
You felt the tender press of Jeonghan's lips against your forehead, a gentle caress that sent ripples of warmth cascading through your weary body. Despite the early morning light filtering through the curtains, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, lulled by the rhythmic rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek. Time itself had slowed to a standstill, allowing you to bask in the serenity of this intimate moment with him.
Meanwhile, Jeonghan savored the precious seconds ticking by, cherishing every fleeting instant he had with you, his heart swelling with love as he traced the contours of your face with his gaze. In the quiet of the room, he allowed himself to be fully present in this moment, indulging the joy of holding you close.
Unable to resist any longer, he found himself captivated by your beauty, his gaze lingering on your naked form. Every curve, every line of your body seemed to radiate with an otherworldly glow, sending him into constant euphoria.
He reached out to caress your cheek, his touch feather-light against your skin as he leaned in, his lips seeking yours in a tender, lingering kiss. It was a slow, deliberate gesture, a silent plea for you to awaken from your slumber.
You moaned softly, your voice a whisper in the dimly lit room, but you knew you had to stop him. "Mmm, I'm afraid I don't have it in me for another go, darling. I'm sore from last night, and it's because of you."
Jeonghan chuckled, "I can see how you rather reveled in last night's affair."
"Anything for you, sweetheart." He added, a proud look painted on his face.
In the comfort of your new home, nestled snugly beside your husband and the whispering ocean, you find yourself waking to the sight beyond the right window. There, you awaken to the serene expanse of the sea, tranquil and unyielding in its beauty.
Amidst the tender beginnings of your marriage, a dream materialized into reality as you and your husband diligently saved for this cherished abode, knowing all too well of your deep affection for the ocean.
"Thank you for this, Jeonghan. I just love the ocean so much."
"And I love you most, Amelia."
December 29, 1953 — Portofino, Italy
In the moments of your firstborn's arrival just a week prior, every ounce of fatigue and every sleepless night seemed a small price to pay for the tender care your child demanded. The longing to return to your profession, to teach and impart knowledge, nags on you incessantly.
Yet, despite your decision, Jeonghan, your husband, insisted that you take the time to rest and recuperate.
As you stirred in the early hours of the morning, your fingertips brushed against the cold, empty space where your husband had lain just hours before. Heavy with sleep, your eyelids resisted the call to wakefulness, clinging stubbornly to the remnants of slumber. The night enveloped the room in a profound silence, broken only by the faint rustle of fabric and the rhythmic cadence of your own breathing.
Your gaze wandered towards the bassinet where your newborn daughter usually slept until your eyes fell upon the familiar sight of Jeonghan.
Drawing closer, the soft glow of moonlight revealed the silhouette of your husband, his figure bathed in a gentle luminescence as he sat in his usual spot. His arms enveloped your daughter, cocooning her in a protective embrace, while the rhythmic rise and fall of her chest mirrored the steady beat of his heart.
Jeonghan's gaze met yours, his eyes alight with warmth and affection. A soft smile graced his lips, tender and reassuring, and he continued to cradle your daughter in his arms. With gentle motions, he coaxed her into the peaceful embrace of slumber, the rhythmic swaying of his movements lulling her.
"Sweetheart," you called your husband.
"Hm?"
Your desire to return to work intensifies with each passing day, a persistent tug at the core of your being. You feel confident in your ability to manage yourself effectively during your maternity leave. Driven by a desire to reclaim your productivity, you are resolute in your decision to return to teaching.
"What if I told you that I want to return to work after the holidays?" As the words left your lips, Jeonghan's brow furrowed in contemplation. His mind raced, mapping out potential schedules and arrangements to ensure the well-being of your little one while the both of you were at work. "I want to provide more for our child."
He muttered, "Let's discuss that first thing in the morning. But for now, get some rest, darling. I'll tend to our daughter." He held your child as if she were the most precious and fragile thing in the world.
---- end of flashback ----
Jeonghan's heart breaks at the sight of your weakened state. Despite the weight of the world bearing down upon your chest, you fought to catch your breath, clinging to his words as if they were the very air you needed to survive.
With each passing moment, the urgency to spend this precious time with Jeonghan swelled within you, a desperate longing to imprint his presence upon your heart. Every word that fell from his lips wove a tapestry of cherished memories, a mosaic of everything you held dear in life.
"Did you know that we used to dance together as soon as the sun sets?"
You shook your head, unable to recall. But you found yourself more than eager to hear what he had up his sleeve, to replay the episode when the two of you were dancing amidst the golden rays of the sun, somewhere near home.
"Can I dance with you?" You asked Jeonghan, your heart yearning for the familiar rhythm of movement, but he hesitated, reluctance evident in his eyes as he glanced at your fragile state.
Just as the moment hung in delicate balance, Nurse Kim entered, her presence a timely interruption to the silent exchange between you and your husband. With a compassionate gaze, she inquired about how she could be of assistance to both of you.
"I'll do the best that I can, Mr. Yoon."
Nurse Kim swiftly removed the blankets covering your abdomen, and with care, she supported your head and back, ensuring that your position posed no risk. She then lifted you from the bed, each movement was slow and steady. She held onto you until your husband was able to reach out, allowing you to be securely wrapped around his arms.
How he yearned for your touch, his heart soaring to the heavens at the mere thought of holding you close once more in his arms.
Jeonghan whispered, "Rest your head on my chest, my love."
February 14, 1954 — Los Angeles, California
Valentine's Day held a mundane charm in your world, for your husband had a remarkable way of weaving romance into the fabric of everyday life, rendering every moment akin to that celebrated day.
As the afternoon waned, the gentle melody of the day was interrupted by the sound of the front door creaking open. There stood your husband, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he concealed a bouquet of flowers behind his back.
He approached you slowly, each step deliberate, and gave you this large bouquet of red roses, "Beautiful flowers for the most beautiful woman."
Being married to Jeonghan felt like stepping into the shoes of a protagonist in a romantic movie. Every moment with him was like a scene straight out of a love story, where he effortlessly embodied everything you had ever dreamed of in a partner.
He proceeded to take a gentle look at your firstborn daughter, who was in slumber, nestled peacefully in her bassinet, her tiny chest rising and falling with each serene breath.
Once again, it was the golden hour, with the sun's rays breaking through the kitchen windows, casting warm, honeyed hues across the room.
Jeonghan beckoned you into his arms, enveloping you in a tight embrace as the music from the radio filled the air. Together, you both swayed gently, lost in the moment, as if time itself had paused to savor the sweetness of your love. His hand rested firmly on the small of your back, the other one holding your right hand.
You softly rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to be enveloped by the warmth of his love. In that tranquil moment, every worry, every fear melted away, leaving only the profound sense of security that came from being held in the arms of someone who cherished you unconditionally. The steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoed in your ears, a comforting lullaby that eased your troubled mind and filled you with peace.
It was only you and Jeonghan, lost in each other's arms as you slow danced the golden hour into twilight.
But in your dreams whatever they be
Dream a little dream of me
---- end of flashback ----
In the present moment, you found yourself caught in a slow dance with someone whose features blurred in the haze of memory. Though Jeonghan's face was no longer clear in your mind, you knew he had been a significant part of your life. And as you moved together, guided by the melody of the music, you couldn't help but wonder about the chapters of your life that had slipped from your grasp, lost in the passage of time.
His touch and embrace felt achingly familiar, like pieces of a puzzle that once fit perfectly together but had since been scattered by the winds of time. Though you couldn't recall the specifics of your marriage, there was an undeniable resonance in the way he held you. In that fleeting moment, you were certain that this dance held echoes of a love story you had lived and breathed before, a love that had ignited your soul and left an indelible mark on your heart.
You knew, deep within your heart, that this man had loved you beyond measure. It was evident in the way his eyes softened as he recounted shared memories, in the tremor of his voice as he spoke your name.
A wave of exhaustion washed over you, your breaths growing shallow. In the stillness of the moment, you couldn't shake the overwhelming feeling of fading, of slipping away from someone who stayed with you for a lifetime. It was a heart-wrenching realization, knowing that even the deepest love couldn't protect you from the flux of time.
You mustered the strength to caress his chest, your touch so weak. In that fleeting moment, his name danced on the edge of your consciousness, a whisper from the past that stirred the depths of your soul.
"Jeonghan..."
He looked at you with eyes filled with love and sadness, a myriad of emotions flickering across his face as he gazed down at you. Your head rested against his chest, seeking solace in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, while your arms clung to him.
Despite the palpable frailty, he remained by your side, a steadfast presence in the midst of your struggle.
Tears gathered in Jeonghan's eyes. Each shimmering droplet mirrored the ache in his heart, a silent testament to the depth of his love and the agony of impending separation. With every breath, he struggled to contain the tempest of emotions raging within him, knowing all too well that the time had come for you to leave.
With all the remaining strength coursing through your weary body, you summoned every last bit of resolve to convey the depths of your love to him before drifting into the peaceful embrace of eternal slumber. Each word felt like a laborious effort, but the urgency of your heart spurred you on.
Jeonghan was more than just your husband; he was your confidant, your best friend, and, above all else, the love of your life.
"I love you." You whispered, the weight of those words heavy with the finality of goodbye. It echoed the solemn promise you both made at the altar, in the hallowed presence of God, to love him until death parted you. For the last time, you declared your love to your husband.
As you felt yourself fading away from the world, you realized that you were leaving life behind. Somewhere in the distance, you could hear the anguished sobbing of another person, but you couldn't quite locate where they were.
Slowly, the grip of the person holding you began to loosen, their touch growing fainter with each passing second.
Through blurred vision, clouded by tears cascading down his cheeks, Jeonghan saw you resting peacefully in his embrace. Your lifeless body remained cradled in his arms, the pallor of your skin stark against the backdrop of his trembling form. You appeared as if in tranquil repose after a lifetime of adventures.
He was aware of the exhaustion, the countless machines tethered to your frail form in a desperate attempt to sustain your dwindling vitality. In the midst of the medical apparatus, he couldn't help but wonder if their purpose was to prolong your life or merely to delay the inevitable death.
And as Jeonghan held you close, he found solace in the knowledge that you were finally at peace, free from the pain and suffering that had plagued you.
Time seemed to stretch on endlessly since the moment you fell in love with each other, yet it passed by in the blink of an eye. The world moved slowly, but time raced by at an unfathomable pace.
Not once did he ever regret loving you. Despite the imperfections that marred your relationship and the hurdles you both had to overcome, Jeonghan never wavered in his love for you. He knew that you had felt his love and presence throughout the years.
He loved you not only in the right way, but in every way you needed and desired.
With a heavy heart, Jeonghan whispered words of farewell, pressing a final kiss on your forehead, "I love you most, my darling Amelia."
"Rest easy, my love."
---- end ----
author's note: hello, everyone! i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i did writing it. this is the first time i've written some heavy angst here, and as much as i enjoy writing smut, i'm really a big sucker for angst.
this tugged my heartstrings so bad. (brb, sobbing)
send an ask and let me know what you think!
#seventeen#seventeen au#seventeen ph#svt#svt au#svt filo au#yoon jeonghan#yoon jeonghan au#yoon jeonghan x reader#yoon jeonghan x reader au#yoon jeonghan angst#yoon jeonghan x reader angst#jeonghan#jeonghan x reader#jeonghan x reader au#jeonghan angst#jeonghan au#jeonghan x reader angst#jeonghan ph#angst#heavy angst#sebong#seventeen angst#seventeen angst au#svt angst#svt angst au#Spotify
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The Sculpture of Coast
Maglor drifts ashore one mist-dark morning.
Nerdanel finds him only by accident. Limestone had been her heart’s desire, not a son; she nearly trips on him, nearly goes around the narrow passage of tall rocks.
The cove is full of little lives, mollusks and sand-ants and meaty sea-urchins; a peaceful place, and good.
A seastar clings to the tangled tresses of his hair, pulsing gently Her son looks unnervingly well-made to it - a piece of castaway waste amidst the shallow tide-road of a deep pool, limbs rising and swaying with the movement of the water.
She reaches her hand to the glimmering green water and the trailing white foam to reach him, and touches only sun-warm sand.
He blinks at her with pearlescent eyes, and she sees his hair too is seaweed, and the sea-star part of him - his eyes black and gleaming as worn black conch-shells.
His skin is the water, the sunlit water and the shifting shadows underneath the surface. Storm-tossed, he has made his way back to Western shores, but not to touch them - Nerdanel can see, too, glimpses of charred driftwood bark that were his hands. In this way the songs are true, as she has long suspected.
She thinks, for a moment, that this can be no good way to be, for the sea always bitter, and storms in Aman are fierce. His breathing swells and eases with the current.
His mouth opens, and a sound of the sea speaks -
Water pushes against her knees, salt sprays the hem of her apron in distress. Small whirlwinds gather around the highest rocks - sargasso and char and shadow shift, fearful, displeased.
No violence at the last - what little satisfaction that is! - but a great strangeness in the mind that spills out, unbound, over the waters and the wind.
She cannot tell if he recognizes her. It does not, all in all, make a great difference.
‘Never mind,’ Nerdanel says curtly. ‘Stay as you are, you lost thing. I am on my way only, and you are not what I seek.’
Her voice in the wash of the waves is softener than she likes it to be, but she has always known how to quiet her fretting children, in their youth at least. This one, the last, is ancient; it makes little difference.
She touches a tangled curl of damp, purpling sargasso. Only once; briefly.
The narrow path grows narrower still in the gloam. Nerdanel’s feet remain steady, too wise to hurry and dare a fall. By true evening she is back in her tent, making notation of the ancient age of the rocks: their ingrained fossils and coral husks, their dead matter.
Tilion, her old friend, rises to his own work, alights upon her maps generously, sweeps the tide and all its wrecks away.
Perhaps he is there, still, the lost thing - a spirit in the water, or a pile of bones unearthed by the low tide.
Nerdanel does not turn back, and does not return. She has measured all the stone in miles, and found no good place for a quarry.
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I’d love a short story of spider at bridgehead with the recons and them teasing him after seeing his infatuated with a girl he sees. I just imagine him as a teenager who has not been around female humans before would stir up hormones.
Crush
Summary; Spider accidentally meets a human girl his age at Bridgehead, and thoughts of her refuse to leave his mind. To Spider’s misfortune, recoms can immediately tell.
Author’s note: I fully believe Spider could have a crush on a Na’vi, but the premise sounded like a lot of fun so here you have it! Just Spider being a silly kid lol 🥹
.
.
“Ow! What the—”
“Watch where you’re going you—”
The two fell silent when they caught a glimpse of each other. A neatly dressed girl, her style minimalist and regal…in front of a boy with dirty army camouflage pants and a head of poorly twisted dreads. The youth in their features was undeniable, they couldn’t be far apart in age.
“…who…who are you?” Spider asked, his previous sass gone. He’d seen old humans, and seen young children, but a teenager? That was new.
“Deliah.” She turned her gaze to her clothes, dusting them off. “And you?”
“…Spider.”
The girl smiled, amused. “Spider? That’s your real name?”
Socorro stood. “Got a problem with it?”
“Not really, it’s just kinda silly. I like it.” She brushed her curls behind the ear. “Are you native then? Thought I was the only kid in this hole.”
“Yeah, I’m Pandorian.”
Deliah took liberty to circle the blonde, her attention on the hand-crafted beads in his hair. “Are you…like, a Na’vi?”
“Culturally, yeah.”
She grinned. “Wow! I heard grown ups talk about some "wildling" found in the forest, but didn’t believe them. How’d you survive??”
Spider noticed that he had a hard time turning his eyes away from hers. They were dark like his…and beautiful, glowing in the light steaming from a nearby window. Her attention felt strange. He wanted all and none of it at the same time.
Blood rushed to his cheeks. “I…uh, I dunno. It’s not that difficult once you learn how to keep up.”
“Is it true Na’vi don’t wear clothes?” She giggled.
“What!?“
“Sorry, was that rude?”
“Kinda. We do, just not much. Jungle gets hot, wearing too much can cause a heat-stroke.”
“Oooh, right, sorry, got it. It’s like a survival thing.”
“Yeah…”
Deliah had a pleasant voice, one akin to a light rain after the storm, or a calm stream on a sunlit morning. The sound of her made something flutter in Spider’s stomach, like he swallowed a flock of butterflies.
“….so…you’re like…what?”
She giggled again, what is so funny to her? Is she making fun of me? The boy thought as his face grew redder and heart kept pounding for a reason he could not understand. All he knew is that he wanted to run as far as possible from this person and hide, as well as stay in her presence forever.
“I’m mixed, kinda like most people around here. My mom’s a vice-rep and she wanted me off Earth asap, so now I’m here…dying of boredom instead of smoke.” She rocked on her heels.
“Was it scary? Leaving it all behind?”
“I um…didn’t have many friends.”
“Relatable.” He rubbed his neck.
Deliah raised her brows, her head side-ways. “Na’vi don’t like you?”
“Kinda, but it’s not because I’m human. It’s my ancestry…my squad’s small but we tight. They’re my ride or die.”
“Oh, hope you get to go home soon then..”
Spider smiled sadly. Just as he thought; she didn’t know he was kept here as a prisoner of war. It made the boy wonder what else RDA higher-ups hid from their people to keep them in line.
“But, while you’re here…do you um…since we’re the only human kids for miles—”
“Spider, what the hell did I tell you about wandering off?” A loud voice boomed across the corridor, making both children flinch. Spider turned with a grimace, meeting a cold gaze of his father’s clone.
“Who’s that guy??” Deliah whispered, half-hiding behind the boy. Her touch on his shoulder was soft, and her hand so delicate compared to his…
“Socorro, get your ass over here!”
“Okay okay! Fine…” Spider groaned, before throwing a last look at Deliah. “Goodbye.”
“Where are you going?”
“I Wasn’t supposed to be here. I’m usually in the military block. Just wanted to explore a bit.”
“So…you won’t come back?” The girl’s full lips pursed in a slight frown.
Spider felt a sudden tug on his bicep and whipped his head to see a blue hand wrapped around it, dragging him off. Quaritch’s gaze minutely fixed on the girl, who initially shrunk under it, then tried to assert herself by crossing her arms, but Miles couldn’t be fooled; she was a child.
A girl. In Bridgehead. Talking to Spider.
Oh Lord.
“Let go! I can walk on my own!” The kid hissed when the two entered an elevator. He then noticed Quaritch throwing mischievous glances his way. “What??”
“You sly dog.” He smirked.
“What!?!”
.
Time in Bridgehead never passed this slow. Spider couldn’t wait to be back where he belongs; in the forest, where he could somewhat forget he was a hostage.
And forget about her.
Spider rolled over on the bunk, face in his pillow. Three days have passed and Deliah still plagued his thoughts. How? Why? He’d never know. It must have been out of boredom. That was it. Just boredom.
Not at all her beautiful voice or shining curls or big eyes or that smile…
“Missing your girlfriend again?”
“OH FUCK OFF!!”
Maybe Spider would have already forgotten if not for recombinants. He’d have to slit Miles’s throat for spinning them a twisted version of their conversation. You should have seen this, he told his colleagues. This boy was whipped, ready to propose right then and there!
“So you were huh.” Lyle chuckled, leaning on the doorframe. “Pouting won’t make it better. Get up, breakfast is serving.”
The mess had been loud as usual, but as Spider sat to reluctantly eat an RDA prepared meal, something caught his attention.
A head of dark brown curls in the crowd.
Before the kid even knew it, he stood up, then climbed onto his seat to get a better look. Could it be…
“It’s not her, Spider. That Deliah girl is high rank, but still civilian. She’d never be let in here.” Miles pressed a hand on his shoulder, forcing Socorro back down.
Zdog giggled. “You’re adorable, you know that?”
“Shut up.” The kid pouted. “We had only one conversation. I’m not like, in love or anything.”
“You sure look like it…she did too.” Miles nudged him.
The boy gasped. “She was just being nice.”
“She was twirling her hair and giggling at your every word, that’s the clearest "I like you" I’ve ever seen.”
Spider blushed. Deliah wouldn’t like a boy from the forest. Why? He was a total opposite to her, a "princess" from Brideghead, with her neat clothes and golden jewellery and glowing skin and…
“Oh great, Romeo’s off into the clouds again.” Lopez rolled his eyes.
“You’re unbearable.” Spider growled, digging into his disgusting porridge. The faster he ate, the faster he could escape this embarrassing exchange with immature soldiers who seemingly had nothing better to do than to pick on him.
“You want me to take you along next time I report to the investors?” Lyle teased. “Maybe she’d be there~~”
“Lyle I didn’t ask you—…wait…really?”
The table erupted in guffaws and Socorro’s face turned as red as a tomato. He wanted to die.
“Dawwww~!” Ja mused. “This is too cute.”
“I HATE all of you!”
.
.
#atwow#atwow spider#spider atwow#avatar spider#spider avatar#spider socorro#avatar 2#avatar way of water#avatar quaritch#avatar recoms#miles quaritch
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Her Name
Beneath a blanket of laurel and viridian she lies,
Tucked among the roots and ivy.
The forest holds her in an embrace of thistles and thorns,
Bones of ossified birch, knees sunk into dirt.
Her ghost likes to follow me around,
A youthful skip in her gait.
She is much more vibrant than I,
Eyes azure and gleaming
As she darts through the tree line and gleefully squeals
"Last one there is a rotten egg."
It's not uncommon for people to see her in me,
Or rather, her instead of me.
Grown-ups often chuckle and sigh, sugar sweet smiles on their lips,
And chitter amongst themselves about how oh-so precocious she is.
Will they ever see me?
She and I are one in the same, people tell me.
We have the same smile, same hair, same face.
She is all I have ever been and all I ever will be.
Anything I think or say or do, no matter how original,
She has done it first.
Her name is what people know me by.
It sticks to my skin like maple sap,
Burrows itself deeper like a malignant little tick.
While it once tasted like wildflowers and pine needles,
Now, it is no more than a withered husk
That tastes of ash on my tongue.
I do not hate her.
How can I?
She is pure and free and bright,
A beam of sunlight born in the burning summer sky.
My history is hers, and hers is mine,
Identical spirals of cambium etched into the flesh of our arms.
When I look into weathered polaroid photographs,
Streaked yellow and pink from bygone years,
I see her round, youthful face,
Lips quirked upward and beaming at the camera.
Her smile is beautiful.
I hold her closely, I carry her on my back.
Her arms are looped around my shoulders
And her messy caramel curls fall over mine.
She clings to me like a moth to a lamp,
Sinks her ivory birch roots into my bones,
Entwines herself with me.
She is a part of me.
But I am not her.
I am alive and she is no more than a memory.
Yet when the world speaks to me they call upon her name.
When I do not answer, they do not understand why.
When I drag them after me, through the woods and to her grave,
And show them the brambles growing in her lungs
And the sunflowers blooming in her throat,
They tell me that she is merely sleeping.
For how could a dead thing
Bloom so bright?
So I hack off those beloved curls under the cover of the night
And stain them the same color as the dawn.
If I am ever to become more than the person who wears her face,
I must bloom brighter than her corpse.
If not an act of rebellion, then call it a desperate plea
For someone to softly cup my cheek and, for once, see me.
I am not the little girl with the sunlit smile,
But I once was, years ago.
It is a fact that is as immutable as death,
A law as eternal as life.
And though I still carry her in my arms,
I am older and wiser now
And she will remain forever a child.
We are not the same person. Not anymore.
And someday, I hope, the world will look upon us,
See our fingers entwined like morning glory vines,
And call upon not her,
But me.
#poetry#i wrote this for class like a year ago when i was at the beginning of my gender identity crisis lmao#tw death#<- just in case?? idk it's just a metaphor really#thunder talks#gold star#art stuff
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The Sims 3 - Store World Legacy
Hey everyone! I’m here to bring you all a new Sims 3 legacy challenge: the Store World Legacy. Each generation will live in a different store world. There are 11 different worlds, so this legacy will have 11 generations.
Riverview
Barnacle Bay
Hidden Springs
Lunar Lakes
Lucky Palms
Sunlit Tides
Monte Vista
Aurora Skies
Dragon Valley
Midnight Hollow
Roaring Heights
This is the release order, but you can always do a different order! The main goal of this challenge is to play in each store world! I also made some rules for each generation. You don’t have to follow them if you don’t want to, it’s completely up to you! This challenge is inspired by the Lepacy challenge, where each generation is a different expansion pack. With this challenge each generation is a different store world! I made this challenge because I realized I’ve actually barely or never played in some of the store worlds. So in this challenge we explore all the store worlds and see what they have to offer! (I've completed the challenge! Check out the playlist here)
Generation One: Riverview
All you want is peace and quiet. You’ve finally escaped city life and moved to the sleepy town of Riverview. Here you can finally live the life you’ve always dreamed of. You really want to become a farmer. Fruits, vegetables, chickens, cows! You want it all. Will you be able to find peace in Riverview?
Traits: Green thumb, Loves the outdoors, Hopeless romantic, Technophobe, Eco-friendly
Lifetime wish: The perfect garden (or one of the Back to Nature lifetime wishes)
Career: Gardener
Rules:
Master the gardening skill
Reach level 10 of the gardener career
Complete the aspiration
Complete the Master Farmer skill challenge
Have one best friend
Have at least three kids
(Let Don Lothario ruin your life)
Generation Two: Barnacle Bay
Arrr! Do you want to become a farmer just like your parents? No, you want adventure! You love camping, fishing and going to the beach. Barnacle Bay is perfect for you, with its beautiful beaches and relaxing campgrounds. You don’t want to settle down. You just want to have fun with the other Sims in Barnacle Bay and climb the social ladder.
Traits: Angler, Slob, Commitment issues, Good sense of humor, Sailor
Lifetime wish: Presenting the Perfect Private Aquarium or Seaside Savior
Career: Angler or Lifeguard
Rules:
Master the fishing skill
Reach level 10 of the angler or lifeguard career
Complete the aspiration
Eat at the Pirate Ship at least once a week
Travel abroad at least once
Buy a boat
Reach at least celebrity level 3
Be romantically involved with 3 Sims at the same time
Generation Three: Hidden Springs
You’re sick of everyone talking like pirates. You’re also sick of the media spreading rumors about you. Growing up, you never really had a good relationship with your parent, because they were always away from home. You also had a hard time making friends, which I why you completely focused on your studies. Once you’ve graduated high school, you realize you’re burnt out. You move to Hidden Springs in search for some relaxation and to escape the paparazzi. It’s time to take things slow and focus on yourself. Once you feel like yourself again, you decide you want to become a doctor and help other Sims.
Traits: Genius, Loner, Good, Neat, Ambitious
Lifetime wish: Living in the Lap of Luxury
Career: Spa Specialist and Medical career
Rules:
Have an A in school and get on the honor roll
Don’t have any friends as a child and teen
Master the logic skill
Reach the top of the Spa Specialist career
Quit your job as a Spa Specialist and join the medical career
Complete the aspiration
Marry an athletic Sim
Become a partner of the Hidden Springs Day Spa
Drink from the Fountain of Youth and wish for youth
Generation Four: Lunar Lakes
You love everything about space and science! So it’s not a surprise that you immediately joined the science career after high school. A couple of scientists get the chance to do research on Lunar Lakes and you’re one of the lucky ones! You say goodbye to your friends and family. Once you arrive there, you realize this all you ever wanted in life. You decide to never return to SimEarth.
Traits: Genius, Excitable, Natural cook, Unstable, Unflirty
Lifetime wish: Become a Creature-Robot Cross Breeder or Scientific Specialist
Career: Science
Rules:
Master the science skill
Reach level 10 of the science career
Complete the aspiration
Get married as a young adult
Get divorced as an adult, you’re too busy with your career
After the divorce, you both still live in the same house
Use the clone voucher lifetime reward
Engineer a baby
Generation Five: Lucky Palms
You’re bored of Lunar Lakes and decide to go to SimEarth. You end up in Lucky Palms and spend a lot of time at the casino. Money, money, money. You throw lots of luxury parties for your friends and you get a lot of attention from the Sims in town. You’re bored very quickly, so your relationships don’t last that long.
Traits: Lucky, Schmoozer, Flirty, Party animal, Commitment issues
Lifetime wish: Swimming in Cash
Career: Business
Rules:
Reach level 10 of the business career
Complete the aspiration
Reach level 10 of the gambling skill
Have at least 5 friends
Go to the casino at least four times a week, you’re addicted to gambling
Have at least 3 kids
Make all 5 wishes at the wishing well
Generation Six: Sunlit Tides
You never had to worry about money. You quickly get married to your partner and spend your honeymoon in the beautiful Sunlit Tides. You decide to never leave. Lucky Palms was nice, but it was very dry. You spend your days painting, writing and relaxing at the beautiful beaches while your partner works a shady job. You never planned to have kids, but one day you get bored and have an affair, and woops, there’s a baby! Will you keep this a secret? Or will your partner find out?
Traits: Loves the heat, Loves to swim, Hates children, Snob, Artistic
Lifetime wish: Illustrious Author
Career: A job? What is that?
Rules:
Marry the first sim week of being a young adult
Have your partner join the criminal career
Master the painting and writing skills
Complete the aspiration
Have an affair and have a baby with this Sim
Generation Seven: Monte Vista
You love cooking and you’re always making the best quality meals for your family. Monte Vista is the perfect place to learn the culinary arts! It’s your dream to become a famous chef.
Traits: Natural cook, Perfectionist, Great kisser, Charismatic, Dramatic
Lifetime wish: Celebrated Five-Star Chef
Career: Culinary
Rules:
Reach level 10 of the culinary career
Complete the aspiration
Master the cooking skill
Complete all cooking skill challenges
Learn all recipes
Your house is not a house if it doesn’t have a wood fire oven
Never eat a quick meal
Have at least 3 kids
Generation Eight: Aurora Skies
You go to Aurora Skies in search of love and happiness. You want to get married and have a bunch of kids. Your dream: a big happy family. You also care for the environment. The eco-friendly community welcomes you with open arms.
Traits: Eco-friendly, Family-oriented, Loves the cold, Nurturing, No sense of humor
Lifetime wish: Surrounded by Family
Career: Daycare
Rules:
Reach the top of the Daycare career (or not because this career can be a pain)
Complete the aspiration
Throw a bachelor(ette) party
Get married
Have at least 5 kids (I dare you to have quads)
Teach all your kids to walk and talk and potty train them
Generation Nine: Dragon Valley
Time to become the new Mother of Dragons. You love mythology and fantasy. As a child, you were always reading books. You move to Dragon Valley because you’ve heared there are dragons. DRAGONS! There’s also a conflict between brewing between two families in the town for control of town. So, why not add more conflict by trying to become the leader of the town yourself?
Traits: Bookworm, Virtuoso, Good, Brave, Irresistible
Lifetime wish: Leader of the Free World
Career: Political
Rules:
Reach the top of the political career
Complete the aspiration
Have a red, green and purple dragon
Master the violin skill
Practice archery
Generation Ten: Midnight Hollow
You never felt like you fit in. Sims think you are kind of strange. That’s why you move to Midnight Hollow. Here you can finally be yourself. You also hate the sun and going outside. Perfect! The sun never shines in Midnight Hollow.
Traits: Night owl, Evil, Inappropriate, Hates the outdoors, Over-emotional
Lifetime wish: Turn the Town
Career: Run your own business or Toy Maker
Rules:
Run a business or reach the top of the toy maker career
Master the inventing skill
Complete the aspiration
Become a vampire
Invent a time machine
You get married, but your partner dies a tragic death
Bring your partner back as a ghost
Generation Eleven: Roaring Heights
One day, you find the time machine your parent invented. You’re very curious and step inside. The time machine breaks and you’re stuck in the past! You have no idea how to go back, so you just try to make the best out of your life in Roaring Heights. You never see your family again.
Traits: Party-animal, Workaholic, Handy, Vehicle Enthusiast, Star quality
Lifetime wish: Superstar Actor
Career: Film
Rules:
Reach the top of the film career
Complete the aspiration
Become a five-star celebrity
Fix the Fixer-upper Car
Congratulations!! You’ve completed the challenge!
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The stars pass overhead,
Spring emerges, a rebirth dance-
Blossoms kiss the warming air,
Life pulsates in vibrant hues.
The stars pass overhead,
Summer's caress, a sultry glow,
Youthful days in sunlit haze,
Love's flame burns, fierce and bright.
The stars pass overhead,
Autumn's palette, a gentle descent,
Leaves whisper tales of change,
Love matures, a golden harvest.
The stars pass overhead,
Winter's chill, a quiet repose,
Love endures, a silent beacon,
Embraced by time, where devotion grows.
In the frame of our profile, our story unfolds,
Memories, stories, and songs it holds.
In the celestial river, a perpetual key,
The stars pass overhead, uniting with eternity.
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I’ve been scrolling through your utena posts and saw you had one about Miki being a transbian and I have to say I thought miki was supposed to be a girl in canon (feat. implied lesbianism towards juri) up until the sunlit garden prelude when they dropped his pronouns
omg yeah i think the fact that miki is a boy (by which i mean, a "prince" and interpreted by a boy by those around him, because obviously gender is socially constructed) is very important to his character (in the sense that every utena character is impacted deeply by their performance of gender and how it/they are interpreted due to that) but also miki's youthful innocence and more feminine presentation (see: that one post calling him a "girl shaped boy") automatically separates him from the more "masculine" (lol) boys/men we see (who are also older, maturity –> agency –> power/control, tsuwabuki complicates things in this regard). but yeah miki should stop performing boyhood. before it's too late. (i perhaps naively think there is still hope despite the behavior towards anthy & kozue...)
also this is unrelated but lately i have been thinking about how juri and miki's friendship is basically the only non-hierarchical (by which i mean not constructed within the "prince + bride" framework, obv juri is still older and implied to be something of a mentor to miki) relationship in the show. like, being prince4prince isn't completely shedding those harmful constructs, but at least neither of them is the "bride." their friendship is one of equality. i can't think of any other significant dynamic in the show wherein this is the case (not even utena + wakaba, and utena + anthy can only hope to achieve an equal relationship by transcending ohtori's borders). juri and miki are obviously not immune to buying into these cynical systems of control, even if they are both vocal critics of it (and juri ultimately does forfeit on her own volition), but contrasted with the other friendship between members of the student council (the toxic tragic cesspit that is touga and saionji), they probably have the healthiest relationship throughout the entire show (especially considering that besides utena and normies, no one else seems to believe in replicating dynamics of equality through genuine friendships). so yeah. i think their dynamic is really underrated, especially as it contrasts with the other dynamics it otherwise mirrors.
#anon#ask#utena#i like to think that while touga and saionji are using the student council balcony to toxically hatefuck as they both pretend not to care#juri and miki are out getting smoothies
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2023 fanworks round-up
taken from @francophonesfictions, thank you for creating a formatting template, hehehe. sticking to the things that made their way to my ao3...
the fics:
1 • but i like you, we can howl at the moon (piarles, explicit, 2.4k) -- posted incredibly on january 1, 2023
“Usually, I am better at controlling it.”
“Usually,” Charles repeats numbly.
Pierre smiles, rueful. “It is harder with you.”
2 • in faith (sebchal, mature, 1.8k)
At his side now, Charles sat taller than Sebastian with a weariness in his sunlit eyes that belied his relative youth and beauty. A simple golden circlet lay nestled in his hair, his only adornment.
"You might smile," Sebastian whispered, the rough edge of his untamed beard brushing against Charles's cheek. "One might think you are at your funeral."
3 • this little space in between (chalex, teen, 2k)
When he reaches the station, Alex finds Charles curled up with his knees against his chest on the lone splintering bench by the platform, pushing a roller bag back and forth with the tip of his shoe.
4 • in my ribs and under my chest (piarles, explicit, 2.8k)
"I already know what you look like naked," Pierre reminds him with a smirk and Charles flushes at the implication, which is stupid. They've been living out of each other's pockets since they were children, before Charles had ever considered what it might be like to be wrapped up in Pierre.
"I am not," Charles finally admits. "Not naked." Pierre's eyebrows climb up his face again, intrigued.
5 • a thing most new (piarles, explicit, 3.6k)
Pierre comes back home with a mustache. It is neatly trimmed, following the line of his full mouth.
Charles feels as if he is greeting a stranger when Lorenzo comes back from the station with Pierre in tow. He hangs back toward the end of the hallway—everyone in the house has come out to welcome Pierre back from his first year away at university, popular as he was with the rest of the staff.
6 • as unchanging as the sea (piarles, mature, 2k)
Like most of the petits rats, Charles keeps a small box of personal effects in the dressing rooms. A bit of powder and a nub of rouge for his cheeks, a bundle of letters from home, a sachet of dried herbs from his grandmother’s garden that has long lost its scent. There is a cross embroidered on the yellowed cloth and although Charles no longer attends mass, it is still dear to him as is the thin gold crucifix that he hides in a loose panel at the bottom of the wooden box.
warnings: implied off-stage sex work with coercion/violence, typical of the historical period/setting. this is non-graphic and obliquely referenced in the text.
7 • little bright things (piarles, explicit, 2.2k)
The skirt is too short, stealthily taken from the box of outgrown things Marie, the gardener’s daughter, had packed up to donate to the church. It barely covers Charles’s ass, hem skimming the tops of his thighs, but the waist had just fit with a cream-colored polo shirt tucked in. Charles’s professors might have scolded him about the contrasting whites, but they aren’t here right now. It is just Charles and the moonlight and the soft strains of music filtering in through the high windows.
And, of course, Pierre.
8 • give a kiss, get a cab (chalex, explicit, 1.5k)
Alex nearly spits out her drink when she spots Charles in a corner by the windows. Charles has more than put in the effort tonight, wearing a glittery tight little mini skirt and strappy sandals that show off the long line of her legs and the pert curve of her ass where it meets her thighs.
9 • the bride of gévaudan (piarles, explicit, 12k)
At the altar, Charles’s hands trembled as he took the cup of sweet wine from the priest and drank. It was only a small sip, but he felt the rush of heat spreading from his stomach, making him dizzy in a matter of seconds. There was a soft tickle at the back of his hand, barely even a touch. The tip of the Wolf’s tail swayed back at Charles’s elbow. Startled, Charles met the Wolf’s eyes. They were a shocking shade of icy blue and almost human in their regard.
10 • a blessing, a fable (sebchal, explicit, 6.8k)
“I carry a message from the abbot of Maranello,” Brother Charles announced, voice ringing across the courtyard like a bell. He wore the short white tunic of a novice under his cloak, which was enough to set Sebastian on edge. As far as Sebastian knew, Maranello did not send initiates on missions before they had taken their full vows. There were too many temptations outside of the abbey walls, the former abbot had told Sebastian once, his mouth loose with wine and good humor.
Brother Charles would have been a temptation himself, long dark lashes sweeping across his delicately carved cheekbones. His eyes were bright and unguarded as they met Sebastian’s without a hint of fear.
11 • a christmas reel (piarles, teen, 6.5k)
When his girlfriend had first told him she wasn’t coming with him anymore to Nicolas’s wedding, Pierre had been confused, worried even that something urgent had happened—a death in the family, perhaps. It had only been when she had failed to answer, unusually hesitant, that it had become clear to him that there was nothing wrong—except them. It’s not just this, she had said, unusually somber, and Pierre had understood.
So Pierre had come home the night before with just a single suitcase and a long garment bag holding his best suit.
the ficlets:
double entendre (piarles, explicit, 528 words) (yes... this was me...)
sovereignty (piarles, mature, 499 words)
a sea-change (piarles, teen, 473 words)
EN-20 (sebchal, teen, 461 words)
like water to wine (piarles, explicit, 671 words)
like you a little (chalex, general, 595 words)
let me crack the code (piarles, teen, 788 words)
total # of completed works: eleven works that i would say are finished, plus seven ficlets of varying lengths
total word count: 47,936, which is, like. an insane amount of words for me. i've been visited by the chuse (charles muse) sdfkljgkjli
what’s your own favorite creation of the year: "a thing most new" and "give a kiss, get a cab," which speak to different parts of my soul.
do you have any goals for the new year: just to continue to have fun!!!! sdfkljfk i'm going to be honest and say i've never approached writing fic for myself as like. an exercise for honing any sort of craft.
most popular creation of the year: by hits, "in my ribs and under my chest," aka the corset fic... but by kudos, "but i like you, we can howl at the moon" just edges out ahead (ha!).
under-appreciated creation of the year: i'm so thankful for any bit of love & appreciation i have received tbh!!! if i had to choose one thing... perhaps "a blessing, a fable" because i had this idea percolating in my mind for so long, that it getting out there in the world even in the form that it is in is a minor miracle to me sdfkljdslkfjljg
most fun thing to make: "a thing most new" and "give a kiss, get a cab" again sdflkjsdlkfj or honestly any of my off-the-cuff ficlets which usually come out of me being extra ridiculous and self-indulgent.
most unintentionally telling thing: um. perhaps "little bright things."
biggest surprise: i'm not going to lie... i did not think "double entendre" would garner the attention it did when i somewhat shamefully posted it on anon. but i understand. we are all holding hands together and wanting to see charles leclerc be [sirens blast by].
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are you still doing poems? if so, carver x merrill + sunlit waters
thank you for the prompt Sun <3
green eyes sparkling
like sunshine dancing merrily
on the waters of a lake
deep in an emerald forest
filled with mesmerising contradictions–
aged wisdom and youthful naivete
innocent ignorance and tainted knowledge.
they draw me in
enticing, enchanting
let me be your shield
though i know you need none.
#this became more of a love letter to merrill heh#i hope you like it regardless#dragon age#carver x merrill#carver hawke#merrill#my poems#asks#azurechicken#dragon age poems#poetry asks
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[ chapter ii ] ─ 4 o' clock.
It had taken her a while to compose herself, but she managed to do it. The memories of that summer drifted away into her mind, in lock and key. Once more, a new day begins. There would be no time for the new dawn for the dead already gone. That she knew too well. The clock's resolute ticking marks the passage of the night, and at 4 o’clock, the room is cloaked in a profound darkness. Genmei, now awake, rises from the bed's vast expanse, exhaling frustration into the still air. The ticking clock, a relentless metronome, compels her to face the waking world. With a resigned sigh, she banishes the covers aside and, in the solemn hush, bathes the room in the artificial glow of light.
GENRE: Fearsome Womb Arc, 2018;
WARNING/s: Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Explicit Aggressiveness, Nostalgia, Aftermath of Loss, Mentions of Panic Attack, Mentions of Threats, Mention of Promise of Violence;
masterlist
listen: 4 o' clock by r&v of bts
IT WAS QUITE RARE FOR HIM TO VISIT HER IN HER SLUMBER. But she must suppose that he has his moments. In the realm of slumber, Genmei dances with dreams more vivid than most mortals dare to embrace, yet she finds no solace in this nocturnal ballet.
The musings in her mind unfurl like ephemeral tapestries, each thread pulsating with life, beckoning her to reach out and caress the intangible. But dreams, enchanting though they may be, remain elusive phantoms, slipping through the fingers of even the most ardent dreamer.
She contemplates the tears she could shed, should she vocalize the kaleidoscope within her, a million frames of moments she believed time had buried. They resonate with vibrancy, innocence, and the lingering echoes of a youth long eclipsed by the relentless march of time. One cannot simply avoid it, being so sentimental about a past already dried, long written by hands no longer here to hold her own. Gojo Genmei couldn’t help it, she could never help it when it comes to him. She’s no better than Satoru in that regard.
In the tapestry of her memories, she revisits a scene painted with the hues of a summer's day—the deep, sharp gaze of a companion, the sturdy frame against which she nestled, and the warmth of shared breath beneath their tree. A fleeting moment etched in the canvas of her past, where innocence and hope intertwined like vines in a garden long untouched by reality.
She used to think about the warmth of summer like him. If Satoru was the bright echo of winter, then he was most ardently, the bright sun of summer. Genmei missed him. She missed everything about him. She dare not voice it out loud. But selfishly, Genmei latched onto the memories, to the dreams that were left behind. It was all she had.
It has been a year. 365 days. Summer, Spring, Fall and Winter came and went.
But the echoes of Geto Suguru still remained; As young as that blue summer.
A tender smile from Geto Suguru, sitting in front of her as her hands slid through the dark tresses of hair. He allowed her to touch his hair happily, a feat very few could ever do. Suguru from her memory was someone who couldn’t handle the touch of anyone lightly. He liked the distance of it, he used to tell her.
But not with people he held dear. Genmei supposed it made her heart warm when he told her this. It meant that he held her dearly. He considered her an occupant of the portion of his heart. Genmei knew that his whole heart, perhaps it would always belong to Satoru. Yet, she knew she could feel happiness build a home in her.
There was a tender melody born from their shared hums, and the golden radiance of a sunlit meadow—all etched in the mosaic of a summer story, a dream painted in hues of joy. Suguru spoke about home, about missing the mountains and the countryside. He wished summer would come soon, so that he could take some time off.
He invited Genmei to go with him, to see his parents and play with his family’s dogs. He promised that he’d bring Satoru and Shoko too. His parents missed them too. Genmei knew they were long gone, ink dried in her memory replaying as a beautiful nightmare. Yet, beneath the surface, even if this was a repeat of that summer's nightmare, the memory that refuses to fade. Genmei refuses to let it fade.
He was so beautiful, so tender with his touch and his smile. There was no forgetting him. He was the whole moon, the whole summer night. Genmei wouldn’t forget him. Not even if she tried. She and Satoru had tried, but they couldn’t. It was as though they would surrender life itself from existing in their flesh and bones.
In their hearts and minds. They were the biggest prisoners, she thought. The biggest prisoners to loving the past. Yet Genmei does not mind. She would not be able to live without it, being haunted by the ghosts.
As she traces the vacant side of her bed, she yearns for the comforting presence of Satoru. Tears flowed from her eyes involuntarily, her lungs halted its usual flow. She couldn’t move herself too well, her muscles tightening in spasms.
A soundless huff left her lips as she tried to get herself together. For a moment she stayed still and just cried. When the time passed, her muscles loosened slightly, Genmei took to taking Satoru’s in her arms and wrapping her arms around it. She can smell the tender scent of his perfume still there.
He stayed there, already ready to leave for his mission just to feel her for a while. They wouldn’t see each other for a while, so he wanted to make sure he lingered long enough to fill his heart with the tender memories of her. Genmei felt herself settle slowly against the pillow, her breathing returning to its usual pace.
She missed him, she was sure. If he was here, it would have been easier to deal with this. It would have been easier to feel at ease with the memories of the person they both loved. Yet he wasn’t and she had to live with that.
In the cocoon of his touch, he could discern the ethereal boundary between dreams and nightmares, offering solace with a mere brush of his fingertips. A yearning for his tenderness echoes through her being, yet she knows he is absent, entangled in missions that withhold him from her embrace. Her husband was a light sleeper, much more so than her.
The Six Eyes keep him from the slumber of mortals. Satoru is attentive, noticing the small differences of her breath from nightmare to a peaceful slumber. Genmei knew that he would know what to say to her at this moment. He would offer her what he needs. Peace of mind, even for a little while.
But Gojo Satoru’s not here to offer that peace.
Genmei lingers in the memories long gone.
It had taken her a while to compose herself, but she managed to do it. The memories of that summer drifted away into her mind, in lock and key. Once more, a new day begins. There would be no time for the new dawn for the dead already gone. That she knew too well.
The clock's resolute ticking marks the passage of the night, and at 4 o’clock, the room is cloaked in a profound darkness. Genmei, now awake, rises from the bed's vast expanse, exhaling frustration into the still air. The ticking clock, a relentless metronome, compels her to face the waking world. With a resigned sigh, she banishes the covers aside and, in the solemn hush, bathes the room in the artificial glow of light.
Too early for the world to stir, yet too late for her to return to the arms of Morpheus, she contemplates the solitude of her nocturnal sanctuary. The impending challenges of the day loom ahead—the elders' den awaits her, and she will navigate its depths once more. The promise of tomorrow, with Satoru's return, is the beacon that guides her through the predawn hours. She yawns, heading towards their shared bathroom, letting the water run from the faucet.
Facing herself in the mirror, the sorcerer could only sigh. The weariness of her face was obvious to anyone who would deem to see it. The redness of her eyes from the tears was just as familiar to her than anything else. She was glad that no one was around to see it. It would have been a different conversation, not one she’d like to have. Genmei let her hands touch the water, feeling the warmth and then the cold of the water’s pour.
The morning ought to start.
IT WASN’T UNTIL SHE WAS GOT TO THE KITCHEN WITH THE CAT THAT SHE HEARD MAIN DOOR OPEN. The sound of purring from the feline led her to crotch down and seek out the beloved white fur from the small bed in the living room. Touching his fur, he purred once more. That indicated to Genmei that he was once more in need of his precious water.
But as she held the bright white feline, she came into a stare down with her weary husband as he took off his outdoor shoes. The door barely shut behind him, Genmei heard the cat hiss at her husband. Blinking for a moment, Genmei was trying to be certain that she was seeing things for what they are. But as he lifted the lower portion of his eye coverings, Gojo Satoru grinned at her.
“Well, I didn’t expect this welcome party.”
Genmei patted the cat’s head, silencing the feline into satisfied mewls. “I thought you wouldn’t be home until tomorrow.”
“I thought you had more faith in your husband than that!” Satoru sighed, feigning sorrow at her words. He put away his house shoes easily as he put away his outdoor ones. “You know I could deal with a ton of first–grade curses in a few minutes.”
His wife raised a brow. “So all this time, you just went sightseeing?”
Satoru stopped at his tracks, having been caught. “O–of course not! You know I had to do some wellness checks around the area, you know, to make sure there aren’t any curses I’ve missed.”
Genmei dissected that he already ate his sweets.
Gojo Satoru gulped.
For a moment, his wife’s eyes sharpened at his words which made him nervous. But Genmei merely relented in a sigh, letting the cat down as she headed towards the kitchen and towards the fridge, which she opened to find the water. A short yelp let out of her husband’s mouth but before she could turn around, Satoru smiled at her.
Genmei did not see their cat slowly walk away, with pomp and ceremony as Gojo Satoru’s exposed eye turned to glare at the cat for a mere moment. Satoru would never let his wife know how much he despised the cat. He knew how much she loved the damned spawn. He would bear with it for her sake.
“You okay?”
“I’m more than okay.” Satoru tells her as he leans towards her from the counter, placing a small kiss upon her cheek. “I’m home to you. What more could I ask for?”
“You and your words,” Genmei shook her head as she turned around and headed towards the feline, who rested on the small bed. Genmei concentrated as she poured just enough water. Their cat has had enough salmon before they both went to bed.
Too much water would just indulge him. He’s after all, on a diet plan. Closing the cap, she places the water bottle into the counter and wraps her arms around her husband. He removes his eye covering, his bright blue eyes greeting her. For a moment, they do not speak. There’s usually no need for words when they’re alone like this.
“You’re gonna get a headache.”
“I can bear with a little suffering.” Satoru whispers to her, leaning forward to peck the small of her jaw. “It’s nothing compared to when I’m looking at you.”
Genmei felt her cheeks fluster in a pretty scarlet. She shook her head. “I can always feel the way you look at me without the eye cover. I know what they look like, even when they’re covered.”
“That’s different.” He argues to her, his fingers tracing the edge of her porcelain face. As he traced her features like stars, his eyes followed. Almost as though memorizing each and every essence of her. “I like being able to see you. Just you. As much as I can with these eyes. Covering makes it so limited, it causes me so much trouble than I wish.”
“You’re insufferable.” Genmei let out a small giggle, leaning forward against his shoulder. He leans against her too, just to smell the lavender he loved so much on her. Closing his eyes, he feels as though he is safe. He knows he is safe. As long as he is in her arms. “I take it you don’t want to sleep just yet?”
“Hm, how did you know?”
“Because I know you too well, oh insufferable one.”
He leans away, his face in a pout as his wife laughs. “One moment you’re sweet and one moment you’re sour. It makes too much of a whiplash for one man to take, you know?”
Genmei laughs. “But you like it, don’t you?”
He snickers, unable to deny it. “And what of it, darling?”
She shook her head, leaning towards him and pressing a kiss on his cheek. “Welcome home, my love. I missed you.”
“Missed you too.” He closed his eyes at the feeling of her lips against his flesh. “I missed all of you.”
“Ah, ah, ah.” Genmei retorted, looking at him. “We’re not doing it. We haven’t eaten anything.”
“But you taste better than the—”
“Finish that sentence and I’m withholding the privilege.” She crosses her arms as he groans.
“Darling, please. It’s been a couple of days. I need you so bad!”
She touts, taking leave of him and back into the kitchen. “I’m making breakfast for you and me. We have to eat first. After that, we’ll see if I’m in the mood for it.”
Gojo Satoru sighed, defeated as he relented as he moved towards the kitchen, following his wife.
Though, he was certain he could hear the cat take a break from drinking water to laugh at him.
He really hated that cat.
SATORU REMINDED GENMEI OF A CHILD AT TIMES. Sitting on their sofa, Gojo Genmei wondered how long this tantrum would last. Satoru wouldn't remove his arms from her waist for about an hour now as he watched an episode of Digimon Adventures. He didn’t speak, but rather focused on his moping. He didn’t even move as the cat moved on his wife’s lap.
As the cat yawned, Genmei let her hand pet the feline’s head as Satoru suddenly started to list reasons why she shouldn’t waste her time around the ‘nasty old farts’ in Kyoto. The top one being that he needed his ‘recharge’ of her after being apart for a few days. The last thing he wanted was to be alone in the house again without her giving him the warmth of her existence.
His bright blue eyes seemed to glow brighter as she detailed her plan to meet with Gakuganji. It was like a god silently judging her as she spoke of the path towards danger she planned to thread. Satoru has always been someone who had something to say.
It was quite a matter when he didn’t have much to say. Genmei had always been aware of Satoru's great distaste for the inner workings of clan politics. He has always been surrounded by it as a young man, with his father dying early and his status as clan head perpetually bestowed at the crown of his young toddler head.
The thought of a young Gojo Satoru sitting through the dull and whining of the higher ups as a boy, with that unimpressed look on his face crossed her mind. Just hearing the gossip about it by the clan ladies at tea time as a young girl in Zenin manor was enough for her then. Coupled with the years of suffering they had put him through, she can understand his preposition against them.
But even more so, the nature of the conversations around clan politics were never one for the idealists. The air of corruption was easy to spot, even more easy to consume those that touched it. People sided with those they knew peaked their chances to self – interest. It was something anyone would be wise to avoid.
Yet Genmei thought there truly was no certain choice. Mingling with that world, playing a game of flirtation, of hide and seek, was what it took to survive in this world. Everything was as fragile as glass. One step and it all shatters and breaks. Satoru may have convinced them to halt the execution for now. It’s not something that would last.
Just a word seducing them against her husband, the unexpected tide would rush in. It was the ugly truth. If Naoya bribes enough folks, if her grandfather whispers enough words. If the Kamo clan turns and smiles at the right people. Genmei knew that all can twist into disaster. Satoru was but one man, the very essence that could make the world bend to its knees.
Perhaps it was the paranoia, perhaps it was the worry.
But Gojo Genmei feared the day they would turn on him.
She would not let this happen, not on her watch.
His dream was her dream.
They cannot falter.
The sandy haired woman wishes her husband took this in stride. Okkutsu Yuuta had already proven himself, his actions alone last year had spoken for themselves. But Itadori Yuuji was not Yuuta. If Yuuta was the typhoon, Itadori was the tsunami. He had a whole magnitude of concerns that the elders cannot bypass. He was a vessel of Sukuna, the sorcerer that a thousand years ago had wrought their world into misery and suffering.
If he was reborn, if Yuuji could not control him — they fear the worst, they fear what they cannot control. Most of all, Genmei was truly certain that they feel more distaste at the thought that they do not have exclusivity over him. Itadori Yuuji would not feel anything for them, as much as the king of curses wouldn’t. No, he’d be loyal to her husband. And that was even more frightening to them.
Yet, the boy that Itadori Yuuji was not just the vessel of Sukuna. He was a young soul, someone who should not be dealing with the baggage of this world. The elders, the higher ups — they all forget themselves. Genmei could only wonder how many times they could repeat their mistakes.
How many times would they waste potential, to burden it with horrors rather than nurture? Memories flood back as easily as they happened, as though they were lived yesterday. So many voices ignored, so many voices silenced. She pursed her lips.
Genmei wondered what her father would have done if he was in her position.
She had asked that so many times before and still hadn’t found an answer.
How could he have survived the tides of this modern world?
Genmei could only release a soundless sigh.
She turned to Satoru, her lilac eyes reflecting resolve. "You know it as much as I do that they’d listen to me.”
“Listening is different than agreeing, darling.”
“There must be a balancing act. Even if it is a lie, we have to play nice.”
“The phrase ‘playing nice’ has nothing positive to correlate with the higher – ups.”
She cocked a brow. “Don’t you think I know that? But it’s worth a try. Just a precaution. He’s not like Yuuta. This is different.”
“I know it’s different,” Satoru retorted back to her, his lips looped in a frown. “That’s why I spoke in threats, not kindness.”
“Do you trust me?” She takes his face on her hands, forcing the cerulean beam to echo against her lilac gaze. “Do you?”
“What sort of question is that? Of course I trust you.”
“Then let me deal with them, alright?” She whispers to him tenderly. “You had your games with them. Shouldn’t I have my own too? I thought you trusted me more than this.”
Satoru knew that this was for the best. Her words weighed heavily against the higher – ups. Even when he was injured then after what when he was young, it was her that fought against them to ensure he could rest. Genmei was from that world just like him and he can’t forget it. But she was bred to live that life, more than he was. They trusted Genmei. Or rather, considered her a part of the world they created. A life worth more than the ones beyond it.
If not her, then the blood of Zenin Naoki in her veins.
If not his blood, then the name that birthed her into the world.
A Zenin was more their world’s favorite than a Gojo.
Satoru's reluctance wasn't rooted in a lack of trust; rather, it stemmed from an overwhelming concern. The Gojo clan leader releases his wife from his touch. Her lilac eyes blinked in surprise for a moment. Satoru turned off the television. She watched as he stood up, his hands threading through his pockets.
His body moves into a small shrug. As he stood there, his mind raced with scenarios where danger lurked around every corner. It wasn't a matter of distrust but a manifestation of his deep-seated worry that threatened to drown him in a sea of panic.
The weight of responsibility settled heavily on his shoulders as Genmei prepared to face the elders in Kyoto. Every part of him, from the furrowed lines on his forehead to the subtle clenching of his fists, betrayed the inner turmoil. His eyes, usually bright with mischief, now reflected the storm of emotions brewing within.
It was the same feeling as back then. Back then when he stood in front of Suguru, back then when he knelt in front of him ten years later. There was that pit he could never escape. But he wished he could.
Satoru started to pace and soon enough, it became more pronounced. He released a restless energy that mirrored the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. He was not one to shy away from challenges, but when it came to Genmei, the mere thought of her navigating the intricate dance of clan politics ignited a fire of concern.
"It’s not that I don’t trust you," Satoru muttered to himself, his voice a low rasp. His eyes flitted around the room as if searching for an answer that eluded him. "It's because I worry."
She smiles softly at him. “I know.”
"It's a normal husband thing, you know?"
She giggles. "I know."
The cat left her lap, yawning against the pillow.
Genmei stood up, rising to wrap her arms around him.
His body relaxes in being enveloped in her warmth.
“I’ll be back by tomorrow or the next day, I’m certain.”
“I’ll be going to Sendai with Yuuji.”
“I see.”
She tries to look at his face, but he refuses and leans the weight of his body more and more against her. She couldn’t help but smile further, her hand brushing against the undercut of his snow – like locks. He was once more a child, a child who cannot take part in the parting. Satoru’s never been good at that.
For all the time she had known him, he had always needed to feel the warmth of touch. To have somebody. Genmei could never deny him. How could she, when she loved him too much? Gojo Genmei knew this was a curse she can never exorcise. Her love for him was too much, too overwhelming. And she knows that he knows. He feels the degree of it all just as much.
“Will you have a day off when I come back?”
He sighs, “Who cares? I’ll not leave you alone when you come back.”
Genmei laughs. “You’ll be ignoring life then?”
“What are you talking about? You are my life, darling.”
Genmei felt warmer as she kissed his ear. “You’re too much.”
“So are you.”
“You love me anyway.”
“Hm, I do.”
By noon, she kissed him goodbye as Ichiji waited outside.
Gojo Satoru wanted to go after her and be with her.
But he knew too well that this was something she needed to do.
As the door closed behind her, Satoru's worry manifested in an absent-minded twist of his fingers through his hair. He was a man accustomed to action, yet at this moment, all he could do was wait. It was a form of torture for someone like him, who thrived on seizing control of situations.
He knew Genmei was capable, strong, and fiercely independent. But the worry, the irrational fear that clung to him, was a relentless adversary. He had always made her feel this way – a constant guardian, a vigilant protector. Even when he knew she could take care of herself, he couldn't help but imagine the worst-case scenarios, each more vivid and terrifying than the last.
In the quiet aftermath of her departure, Satoru's gaze lingered on the closed door. His jaw clenched, the palpable tension in the air a testament to the storm raging within him. With a sigh, he moved to a nearby window, his eyes fixated on the horizon as if searching for a sign that would alleviate the weight on his chest.
For now, Satoru found solace in the memories of their shared moments, in the love that bound them together. Yet, beneath it all, the worry persisted, an uninvited companion that refused to be silenced.
He turned to look at the cat.
For a moment, the feline stared back.
“I still hate you.”
It mewled back with the same gusto.
The feline, Gojonyan, hates him back.
IT WAS MUCH MORE WELCOMING TO SEE FAMILIAR FACES. As she held the hem of her kimono to avoid tripping, she found herself smiling as she got off the train. The weariness of the hectic day started to fade away as she made her way towards them.
Standing in front of them, the two men allowed themselves into a humble bow in front of her. She fondly sighed, shaking her head. They hadn’t changed, even after all this time. There was no doubt in her mind that they had been here for a while, waiting for her train to arrive.
“Bowing to me like this after all this time,” Genmei says as she crosses her arms together. A tsk sound lets out of her. She waves her hand. “It’s as if we aren’t family.”
“It’s inappropriate to not give you respect.” The smooth tone of the elder of the two, Mikoto Akihiko, echoes. He smiles at her as he positions his body at ease. The glistening of the Mikoto badge, the two herons in flight, was bright on his chest. “You are our liege after all.”
Mikoto Nobuhiko lifts his head, his red haori following gracefully in his movement. His own badge shined in bright beautiful silver, with ruby gems. “Aki–niisama is right. It’s inappropriate to act as though you aren’t our beloved elder.”
Genmei’s lips turned into a tight smile. “Are you calling me old, Nobu?”
Nobuhiko’s bright eyes turned mischievous, but his smile remained serene. “Of course not, Genmei–sama. But seeing as I am younger, shouldn’t I respect you properly? After all, Genmei–sama is four years older—”
Before Nobuhiko knew it, Gojo Genmei started to wrap her fingers against both his cheeks as much as she could. Her smile still remained tight as she squeezed his cheeks, pulling through it as though she was seeing a child for the first time. Nobuhiko started to groan against her, squealing.
“Ah, look at my young baby Nobu! His cheeks are so chubby and cute, what a cute baby boy!”
“Aki–niisama, help me!”
“But Genmei–sama seemed to have missed you, Nobuhiko.”
“I did miss him, Aki–kun! He’s still such a baby. He’s such a cutie, isn’t he, Aki–kun? He’s my cute little kouhai!”
Akihiko chuckled, watching the playful exchange between Genmei and Nobuhiko. “Indeed, Genmei–sama. But Nobu will lose his energy if you play with him too much.”
“I’m already losing it right now!”
Genmei released her grip on Nobuhiko’s cheeks, letting him catch his breath. “I’ll play with you later, Nobu.”
“Please don’t.” Nobuhiko sighed, already weary. “Genmei–sama, I don’t think I’ll last if you do that.”
“But I missed my kouhai!”
“I don’t miss being pinched on my cheeks, Genmei–sama!”
Akihiko, always the calm and collected elder, interjected with a knowing smile. "Well, Genmei–sama, now that you're back, we must discuss the matters at hand. There's much to catch up on."
Genmei nodded, the playful glint in her eyes transitioning into a more serious demeanor. "Of course, Aki–kun. I'm eager to hear about the current state of affairs. Much more on the conversations about Itadori Yuuji.”
“Most of the Mikoto elders seem to be in agreement with the rest of them,” Nobuhiko informs her as they start to depart from the station. “Knowing the clan’s history with Sukuna, they would do anything to ensure his reawakening would not happen.”
The lilac eyed woman nodded. “That’s to be expected. For a thousand years, one of the clan’s will to survive is to ensure Sukuna remains gone.”
“The others do not agree.” Akihiko continues for the younger man, his green eyes gleaming narrowly. “They see the boy first rather than the king of curses.”
“Who’s included in that?”
“Your aunt and your mother.” Akihiko retorts in reply, a small smile on his lips. Genmei returned his smile. “It’s keeping everyone on their toes for now. None of our elders have voted.”
“Hm, Satoru spoke about the Zenin and Kamo votes.”
Nobuhiko snorts, his hands diving through his silver locks. “It’s always those two.”
Genmei reciprocates in kind. “Of course, they have the same mind.”
“The Gojo vote is the most important.”
Akihiko nodded. “The Inumaki vote followed the Gojo vote.”
“Considering its regarding the king of curses, the vote of the Mikoto would sway everyone else.”
The Zenin born lady smiles. “I need to get Gakuganji to back out. He has the most sway out of the head elders.”
“I doubt he’d say no to you.” Nobuhiko grinned. “Master Naoki was his favorite student, wasn’t he?”
Akihiko nodded, smiling in kind. “Some things are thicker than one’s greed, after all.”
Gojo Genmei looks up in the sky.
She wonders if her father is up there.
She lets out a small huff of air.
“Let’s get going.”
GOJO GENMEI REMEMBERS TOO FONDLY WHAT IT WAS LIKE TO BE A STUDENT IN KYOTO HIGH. As she walked through the torii gates with Akihiko and Nobuhiko, the past came alive in her mind. Laughter echoed like a familiar lullaby, boots thumped through the steps like an endless heartbeat.
The warm layers of flesh against flesh as they rested on each other’s bodies and embraced. The cherry blossoms danced in the breeze, their delicate petals creating a picturesque scene around Kyoto Jujutsu High. It has been a long time.
Genmei walked through the familiar grounds, her lilac eyes taking in the sights that stirred old ghosts to haunt her once more. The echoes of her own footsteps resonated with the ticklish whispers of Kaiko’s teasing tone. The wind’s blows resounded through the place, the chimes going through one after another.
For a moment, Genmei wondered if those names carved on those wooden pools still stood. Like she always was, Gojo Genmei is a prisoner of the past, and yearned to breathe the air seemed to carry the weight of stories only she could tell. She was the only one alive out of the three of them after all.
As she approached the towering gates adorned with the Kyoto Jujutsu High’s mighty symbols, Genmei couldn't help but recall her own years as a student within these hallowed walls. Nothing has changed. It was as if the building was still an homage to the past, still stuck in time and unchanging.
The scent of incense and the distant hum of students practicing their cursed weapons and their techniques brought her back to a time when life was simpler, and the future held limitless possibilities. Youth often gave those promises. It’s the same promise she carries in hope, for these kids. That youth this time around fulfilled its promises.
The training grounds, where she had honed her skills and formed bonds that transcended the battlefield, were now filled with a new generation of students. The wooden dummies, scarred with countless strikes, stood as silent witnesses to the countless hours she and her friends had spent perfecting their techniques.
The thought of those summer days came to mind effortlessly — laughter echoing through the corridors, late-night study sessions, and the thrill of facing curses side by side. Genmei's fingers traced over the ancient trees before her, their branches reaching towards the sky like guardians of the past. For a moment she wondered if such touch from her to this ancient observer could reach them. If for a moment, Genmei could speak to them again.
The weight of loss pressed on her heart, a somber melody playing in the background of her reminiscence. Genmei knew Akihiko and Nobuhiko were looking at her with concern from behind her. Each visit was a torture, that they knew. One of the willful reasons that
Genmei had resolved to send Nobuhiko to Tokyo High instead was to ensure she wouldn’t walk these halls as often as she had to alone. Just to avoid the memories that were so fresh, so easily opened wounds that refused to heal. That was out of her own selfishness, she knew. Not that Nobuhiko would mind. He told her as much. He’s satisfied with his own story.
She halted for a moment, her lips pursed in a flat line as she spotted the solitary bench in the corner. The bench was perfect during sunny days. It firmly stood beneath the shade of the tree, its gnarled branches reaching out like the hands of old friends. Namie often played with her creatures here. Genmei couldn't resist the pull of old days, and she found herself touching the frames of its wooden body.
Kaiko, with her infectious laughter and unruly hair, always grinning as she readied herself to balance off the bench. Namie, innocent and brightly smiling, pouting as she couldn’t get beyond the number ten when she balanced off the bench.
And her, Genmei, telling them off with her failure to keep her straight face as she laughed when Kaiko and Namie would get into a row. Genmei closed her eyes, allowing the cool breeze to carry her back to the days when three loud echoes of laughter graced through these halls. Beaming so brightly like three stars in the sky.
“I’m sorry if we’re taking too long.” Genmei smiled, turning to her companions. “It’s just….Nostalgia.”
“Don’t apologize, Genmei–sama.” Akihiko shook his head, a small smile on his face. “We were young at one point.”
Nobuhiko crossed his arms, his face full of unreadable emotions.
Genmei was certain he was remembering his own youth too.
Thinking a lot about that doe eyed boy who never got to grow up.
BY THE TIME THEY GOT THERE, GENMEI WAS CERTAIN THEY HAD MADE GAKUGANJI WAIT ANYWAY. Genmei's strides and steps echoed through the hallowed halls, her lilac eyes focused ahead. It was already late when they got around to the main building, where the offices of the school were located. Akihiko suggested the flow of things, Nobuhiko walking behind him and saying things here and there.
But for a while, she was sure she drowned them out, almost being dragged by her own spirits and not her wits. Perhaps it was the overwhelming emotions, she was confronted by the past she wanted to run away from and bury. By this point, she would have expected the voice in her head to laugh at her. As gods mostly do. But she supposed that gods too have lives to live.
Before she realized it, Genmei stood firmly in front of the massive doors that barred the gap between her and that world she wishes to forget. The sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the ancient corridors of Kyoto Jujutsu High.
The meeting with Gakuganji, the Kyoto principal, was long overdue, and the tension in the air was palpable. Much more so since their last conversation last year had ended in a stalemate. Yet by this point, Genmei was certain the waters had cooled and been forgotten. In his eyes, forgiven. After all, the past was the past. It ought to be over.
Entering the grand chamber where the principal often held discussions of great import, Gojo Genmei found Gakuganji seated behind a large, ornate desk. The room itself exuded an air of ancient authority, its walls adorned with tapestries depicting the lineage of Kyoto Jujutsu High.
The scent of aged wood and lingering incense hung in the air, creating an atmosphere steeped in tradition and gravity. Akihiko and Nobuhiko bowed their heads at the direction of the principal, quietly backing away to the doors and shutting them.
Gakuganji's presence was commanding, it always was something that frightened Namie when they were young. The old man’s figure was framed by the high-backed chair that seemed to possess its own history.
The desk before him, intricately carved with symbols of the Jujutsu world's intricate hierarchy, held an array of scrolls and artifacts, each a testament to the weight of decisions made within these sacred walls. Genmei could see it clearly, the words of a long forgotten script bearing the name of Ryomen Sukuna. At one point, she saw her ancestor's name in one of the scrolls. But that failed to read everything before Gakuganji took her attention off the scroll.
As Genmei approached, the soft glow of paper lanterns illuminated the chamber, casting shadows that danced across the tatami mat floor. Gakuganji's gaze, sharp and discerning, met hers with an intensity that hinted at the countless negotiations and confrontations this room had witnessed.
The air was heavy with the weight of tradition and the echoes of past decisions. One would find it easy to be intimidated if they do not endure this often. The walls after all watch as much as they speak. Each semblance of this place reverberates with the unspoken power of the elders and their chosen favorites.
One would find it easy to be intimidated if they do not endure this often. The walls after all watch as much as they speak. Each semblance of this place reverberates with the unspoken power of the elders and their chosen favorites.
Gakuganji Yoshinobu acknowledged her entrance with a slight nod, his eyes locking onto hers. His gaze, sharp and penetrating, met Genmei's with an equal intensity. He shifted his hand toward Genmei’s companions, who raised their heads from their bow. The room felt charged with the clash of two formidable forces.
"Gojo Genmei," Gakuganji greeted, his voice a low rumble that echoed through the chamber. "It's been a while since someone of the Gojo name set foot in these halls.”
“You never used to address me like that before, Gakuganji–sensei.”
“I’m merely addressing you as your title implores.”
Genmei slyly grinned. “That sounds snobbish even for you, Gakuganji–sensei. I thought I was your favorite.”
The old man snickers. “It is at this point debatable.”
“How heartbreaking!”
“What brings you to Kyoto?"
Genmei beams at him. “You already know what I’m here for.”
“And that is?”
"I'm here to discuss the matter of Itadori Yuuji's execution.” The sandy haired lady exclaims back to the elder. “I trust you are aware of the situation. Given that you've been urging others to vote in favor of it."
Gakuganji's lips curled into a knowing smile. "Ah, the vessel of Sukuna. A delicate matter, indeed.”
“Indeed it is.” Genmei nodded nonchalantly. “But I’ve an even more pressing matter.”
“And that is?” His brow is cocked.
“Tightening the rescindment until further notice.”
He lets an amused breath of air. “Your husband had gotten the execution rescinded for now, hasn’t he?”
“You and I both know the elders shift like the weather does.” Genmei gave a small laugh at his words. “Why else would I be here, Gakuganji–sensei?”
“I do not have the power to—”
“That’s a bold lie and we both know it.”
“The matter is decided."
“But yours isn’t casted yet, isn’t it?” Genmei reminds him, her eyes narrowing at him sharply. “The matter isn't truly decided until you or the Mikoto clan say something."
“You’re observant.”
Her smile tightens as much as her jaw does. “Of course. My blood is Mikoto. I would notice."
“And you mean to use me to get what you want?”
“You promised.” Genmei reiterated to him.
The Kyoto principal leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled together. "Genmei Gojo, you may be a respected figure in the Jujutsu world, but you cannot dictate the decisions of the elders in Kyoto."
Genmei's lilac eyes narrowed, a subtle shift in her demeanor. "I am not here to dictate like my husband. But I don't hold my tongue very well."
"One must know restraint too, child."
"And one must know the value of their words. Is yours so cheap that you forget your place? Or are you just another oathbreaker? Are you not my ally?”
A tense silence hung in the air, broken only by the subtle creaking of the ancient wooden floors beneath them. Genmei's words,though veiled in curtesy, carried the weight of a storm gathering on the horizon.
Gakuganji's gaze remained unwavering. "Do not mistake my fondness for abuse or unchecked power, Genmei."
She gritted her teeth. "You do a good job of that without me interfering."
"Still, the decision regarding Itadori Yuuji will be made by the elders based on what they believe is best for the Jujutsu world. You know that better than anyone else.”
“Oh, I know.”
Akihiko’s eyes started to widen.
Nobuhiko started to smile.
At that moment, Gojo Genmei stood.
Gakuganji Yoshinobu’s eyes bulged out.
"After all, you've made me do worse because the elders said so."
The alarms all over Kyoto High started to ring out simultaneously as Gojo Genmei’s body released cursed energy in loud, bright waves. The abruptness of the alarms shattered the ambient stillness, their urgency cutting through the air like a blade.
Genmei's silhouette was outlined by the pulsating glow of her unleashed cursed energy, casting an otherworldly aura around her. The vivid hues of white and cerulean blue danced in harmony, an unbridled display of power that resonated through the ancient walls of Kyoto Jujutsu High.
Cracks started to take apart the windows, wood started to splinter against itself as the sheer force of Gojo Genmei's energy reverberated through the very foundations of the venerable institution. The large expanse of the office, once serene, now bore witness to the tumultuous manifestation of a power beyond comprehension.
The very fabric of Kyoto Jujutsu High seemed to quiver under the strain. The ancient walls, witnesses to centuries of Jujutsu sorcery, now bore the scars of Gojo Genmei's unleashed power.
Genmei leaned forward, her hands firmly placed on the desk, narrowing the distance between them. "I've come here to warn you, Gakuganji. I am trying to play nice with you. But if you keep pushing my hand, it will be a different story. You’ve proclaimed yourself to be my ally. If you wish to be my ally and fulfill your promises, follow my will. Act like it.”
The principal's gaze, unwavering, met Genmei's. His dark orbs against her lilac haze. The clash of wills continued, but now it was accompanied by the destruction of the room, a manifestation of the stakes involved in the decisions being made. In a flick of a finger, all the power disappeared instantaneously as Gojo Genmei managed to calm herself.
“You’ve become too comfortable as that brat’s wife, child.”
“And you’ve become comfortable being forgetful, old man.”
Gakuganji snickers. “You’ll regret this decision.”
“I do not think I will.”
The old man started to laugh. “We will see about that, child.”
As Genmei turned to leave, the remnants of the grand chamber bore witness to the aftermath of her unleashed power. The air, thick with the scent of destruction and charged with residual energy, seemed to settle. The alarms, having served as heralds of the tumultuous events, now echoed in the lingering silence.
The sandy haired sorcerer walked through the corridors, the echoes of her footsteps resonating with the hushed whispers of the ancient walls. The faculty across the building who had retreated in the wake of her power, watched in awe and trepidation as she passed by. Nobuhiko started to laugh out loud about Gakuganji’s face as Akihiko tried to get him to calm down.
The sun, casting its final golden rays over Kyoto Jujutsu High, illuminated Genmei's determined expression. The branches on the ancient tree, though shaken by the tumult, swayed in a final salute to the departing sorcerer. As she stepped into the fading daylight, the courtyard held the traces of the intense encounter. The shattered windows, the splintered wood, and the remnants of the alarms all spoke of a clash of wills that had left an indelible mark on the venerable institution.
Genmei, undeterred by the lingering chaos, walked towards the gates of Kyoto Jujutsu High. The weight of her decisions hung heavy, but the lilac-eyed sorcerer carried it with the grace of one who had faced adversity before. The courtyard, now bathed in the soft glow of the setting sun, became a stage for the next act in the unfolding drama. The alarms, having fulfilled their duty, faded into the background, leaving Kyoto Jujutsu High in a contemplative stillness.
As Genmei stepped beyond the gates, the leaves fell and whispered their silent farewell, and the ancient walls bore witness to the shifting tides of power within the Jujutsu world. The struggle for Itadori's life continued, and the repercussions of Genmei's actions would reverberate through the corridors of tradition and rebellion.
“Where to next?” Akihiko turned to ask.
Nobuhiko yawned. “We should go. I’m quite hungry.”
“Mikoto–mori.”
Nobuhiko looked at her. “To do what, Genmei–sama?”
Genmei smiled. “To play with the Mikoto elders, of course."
writer's notes:
genmei was born on january 10th, 1976, year of the tiger. this makes her three years older than satoru and four years older than nobuhiko.
a two herons are the clan crest of the mikoto, and members of the mikoto clan wear a badge to signify where they're from.
not all members of the mikoto clan are blood related. the mikoto clan prefer adoption, akihiko and nobuhiko are both product of adoption. they are part of the family which is why genmei considers them bowing to her unnecessary.
as stated by nanami in what a wonderful world, genmei has adopted gojo's personality and perspectives over the years. its what annoys gakuganji and the higher ups as genmei was prior to this, was very obedient to them.
genmei adopted gojonyan many years ago and did so because the cat reminded her of satoru. however, gojonyan hates satoru a lot. he's however very friendly with megumi.
genmei has great hatred for the higher ups as much as satoru. being a zenin by birth, she has some pull with them. however, she can reveal her true colors when her emotions get too much. especially if they put the students at risk.
genmei was very close to suguru and satoru, both being her juniors. she formed a great attachment to suguru and has just as much nightmares as she does with namie and kaiko, who were her kyoto classmates.
#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen fanfic#jujutsu kaisen fic#jjk#jjk fic#jjk fanfic#jjk angst#jjk fluff#jjk gojo#gojo satoru#gojo satoru x oc#jujutsu gojo#satoru gojo#jjk satoru#gojosatoru#jujutsu satoru#gojo#suguru geto#geto suguru#jjk suguru#jujutsu kaisen suguru#geto#yoshinobu gakuganji#itadori yuuji#yuji itadori
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Fourth of July
summary: A story about Jake's childhood, youth and mother. (Ophelia)
warnings: mention of mental health problems, a little JakexMC
words: 3,5k
November 28, 1998
In a quiet and peaceful town, in a lonely hospital, at less than five o'clock in the morning, when a cold autumn morning was waking up to life, another human was born. He wasn't ordinary, he was someone else from the moment he was born. He was different.
Chestnut hair stuck to the sweaty forehead of the woman, who leaned back tiredly, trying to regain her even breathing.
– Just as we predicted. No complications, completely healthy and strong son!
A slight smile appeared on the tired woman's face.
– My little Jacob.
April 4, 2003
– Look. I found a daisy.
Hearing her son's high-pitched voice, the woman of average height looked up from the book she was reading at the little boy in front of her. His watchful gaze was focused on the tiny white flower in his hand, which he proudly held out to his mother.
This day was one of the first warm days of spring, which was the young woman's favorite season.
They were surrounded by a forest in which beautiful and breathtaking plants bloomed and the warm rays of the sun enveloped them from the sky.
– It's beautiful, Jake. – she replied in a melodious voice. She sat up from the bench and leaned toward her five-year-old son. – Where did you find it?
– On the meadow. – He shrugged and held out the flower more strongly – It's for you. – added.
The incredibly sweet gesture amused and moved the young mother.
– Wouldn't you like to give it to your brother?
The woman chuckled softly as the boy rolled his eyes.
– I already gave him the stone. He threw it at my head.
She laughed again, but seeing his undisguised indignation, she accepted his gift and promised him that she will punish Kaden. The boy brightened up, and a slight smile appeared on his face, creating dimples on his cheeks.
The young mother once again admired the beauty of her son. Jake was a beautiful kid. He was a little bony for his age, even though he ate for two. His now sunlit face was like that of an angel. His thick hair, the color of dark chocolate pudding, cascaded over his forehead. But what caught his attention the most were his eyes. Beautiful, breath-taking, mesmerizing blue irises stood out on his innocent and charming face. Her heart clenched as she looked into her son's eyes, which were an identical reflection of his father's. Nathan Donfort.
She didn't want to remember the man who had completely broken her heart, so she thought back to Jake and began to fix his hair, which had been loosened by the sudden gust of wind.
She glanced at the white flower in her left hand out of the corner of her eye and swore one thing to herself. She promised herself that she would do everything in her power to keep her son exactly as he is now. Pure, innocent and free from any sin. She promised herself that she would make sure that Jake would always be as free, carefree and happy as he was now.
December 22, 2009
Christmas was fast approaching. Therefore, no one was surprised by the noise in the apartment, where a few more people were supposed to gather. In addition to Jake, Kaden and their mother, their grandmother and uncle were coming with their family. The whole apartment was nicely and climatically decorated, and the smell of home-made Christmas dishes was wafting, creating only increasing impatience in young boys.
– Kaden, how many times do I have to tell you that these gingerbread cookies are for Christmas? – she asked in a loud and slightly tired voice from the preparations, but she couldn't help but smile when she saw the boys running around the kitchen dressed in Santa hats. She went back to turning the meat in the pan when she heard a loud thump on their door. Surprised, she walked towards the entrance of the apartment, then opened the door. And it was one of the biggest mistakes of her life. Because she found no one else there but Nathan Donfort himself.
– Hello, Ophelia.
Her whole body stiffened and her heart stopped. She couldn't get a word out. She just stood there, staring at the face of the man she would sell her soul for one day.
– Mom? Who is this man?
She didn't know which of the boys had asked those questions. It didn't matter to her, even though he was the father of only one of them, she didn't want any of her sons to have anything to do with this man. So she left the apartment and quickly slammed the door. They were facing each other now, looking at each other with eyes that were so different and distant from the ones they had shared in the past.
– What do you want, Nathan? – She uttered the coldest, emotionless tone she could muster
– It's Christmas. I wanted to… – he started but got stuck in the middle. He tried a few more times, but each time he stopped as if he didn't know what he was doing here. – I wanted to meet my son.
The woman burst into a sharp, dry laugh. Damn, that asshole had more guts than she ever thought possible.
– All of a sudden? After eleven years, you remember that you have a son? – she asked, not believing in his insolence. – Spare yourself, Nathan. I'm not seventeen anymore, you can't manipulate me like you used to.
– That was never my target.
More dry lies.
– So what is it? You've had an argument with your wife again and you're looking for solace in a one-time whore you'll dump as soon as you find out she's pregnant? – she gasped as her emotions took over her. The inside screamed at her to go back inside and she wouldn't listen to a word of that son of a bitch anymore, but she couldn't. She couldn't take her eyes off the face of the man she once loved most in the world.
– I didn't come here to resolve our conflict. – he growled unpleasantly – I came because I believe that our son deserves a father. He deserves better.
– You mean our conflict is that when I told you I was pregnant, you called me names and left me alone? Right, it's nothing that bad! – she raised her voice, feeling the first burning tears under her eyelids – And he is by no means your son! You lost father's name when you abandoned us eleven years ago. He lived eleven years without you, and believe me, he deserves better than a momentary hope. Because that's who you are, Nathan. You give people momentary attention and hope and then brutally take it away and push people to the bottom.
She was about to return to her apartment after these words, but she looked at him one last time.
– By the way, what's your younger daughter's name? Ah, Lilly, that's right. Maybe you won't screw up with her like you did with Jake.
She slammed the door behind her and slid down it, finally falling to the floor. She would love to go back to the time when everything was fine. When the sun was out and Jake brought her a plucked daisy. She thought that moment would last forever. That they will always be so incredibly happy.
But the sky was not always cloudless. Unfortunately, the sun sometimes went down, and that Christmas day over Jake's house it went down too fast. And never came back.
November 28, 2012
– Happy birthday, sweetheart!
His grandmother's hand fell from his eyes, revealing a brand new, first ever computer he had ever owned. The then fourteen-year-old boy opened his eyes wide in surprise and looked at the older woman doubtfully. Well, he knew they didn't have the money for such expensive equipment.
– But from where? And how?
But his grandmother interrupted him"
– Don't worry so much, Jake. It's your birthday! Come on, grandma made you a delicious cake. Your favourite. – she smiled warmly at him, and the boy felt the warmth spreading inside him
– Is mom joining us? – he asked only hoping for an affirmative answer – I haven't seen her here for so long.
The old woman tensed up, but tried not to let him know that something was wrong. She smiled at him again, pushing him towards the table. She bit her lip and replied.
– Your mother took an extra job, which is why she's been gone so long. But I promise she'll be back soon. – she said truthfully, a little sadly.
Jake had abruptly blacked out because he had just found out that his mom was working a few jobs just to keep him entertained. Only once did he mention how much he likes IT classes, and she decided to sacrifice her well-being and exhaust herself in several jobs. It was then that he felt for the first time that he didn't deserve someone.
He felt it in such moments, when he saw empty packets of various pills, prescriptions from psychiatrists and sleepless, crying nights. For several years, Ophelia was sinking into an increasingly advanced depression, although she did not want to admit it to her sons. And it got worse as she watched the family of her ex-lover, Nathan Donfort, more and more. She saw all the photos his wife posted, which showed a complete family with two beautiful daughters. Smiling, happy and so full of love. Bitterness, sadness and rage seized her and dragged her down.
Jake was mature enough to understand the situation. It was when he turned fourteen and later fifteen that he and his mother began to have heated arguments about his father. The boy wanted to know who his father was, he wanted to meet him. No. He wanted to know why he abandoned them. Ophelia always brushed him off and never gave an answer. The boy didn't want to blame her - he had seen the condition she was in, which was mostly caused by Nathan Donfort. He never blamed her.
But he couldn't help his growing curiosity about his roots and the fact that he got in touch with his older half-sister Hannah thanks to the computer they had given him. When, after a few months of exchanging messages and talking with sister, his mother found out about it, their relation deteriorated even more. And now two people were blaming each other for Nathan's departure. Ophelia about being an insufficient woman, and Jake about being an unwanted child. Because Hannah also told the boy many things about her family, including her father. She portrayed him as a loving and caring father and husband. So what were they better at? What was the fault of a young, then seventeen-year-old girl completely blinded by love for an older man? And what was the fault of the defenseless and unawared boy with black hair and an innocent smile?
Jake felt rejected. Unwanted. Furious that, compared to him, Kaden had a perfectly normal father. Yes, he wasn't with their mom either, but he didn't abandon his son. So many times he wanted to tell Hannah the truth about what kind of man their father really was. However, he never did. He didn't want to be the reason their perfect family broke up.
When he didn't want to hurt his mother any more by soughting contact with the family of the man who broke her heart so he decided to break off contact with Hannah. But it was damn hard, because for unknown reasons, he became very attached to his unawared sister. The situation began to spiral out of control when girl began to show strange emotions towards him. Suggestions. He had no idea how he hadn't noticed it before. He was never good at interpersonal relationships. Hannah crossed the line when she sent him a picture in nothing but a bra. Jake reacted immediately, blaming himself for not finishing it sooner. He cut off contact with her, never returning to the topic in the years that followed.
November 31, 2016
He was awakened by the strong and poisonous smell of smoke. Disoriented and sleepy, he had no idea what was going on. The only sound he heard was the loud snoring of Kaden, who was sleeping on the bed next to him. He listened for a moment, and when another strange noise reached him, he stood up as if scalded. It sounded like... burning. Almost falling over the clothes scattered on the floor, he reached his sleeping brother and shook his body hard, screaming his name. A sleepy Kaden began to accuse him of interrupting his best erotic sleep with Pamela Anderson, but when he heard what was going on, he immediately turned serious and ran to wake up their mother.
Jake knew perfectly well what had caused the house fire. In the last few months he has become more and more interested in hacking and may have messed with some dangerous people. He didn't know what the consequences of his actions would be. He was just a kid who devoted himself to his passion and went down the wrong path for many. A path from which there was no return.
The three were forced to jump and escape through the window due to the flames cutting off their access to the door. Ophelia was slightly intoxicated from the sleeping pills she had taken the night before, making her unable to drive. Jake couldn't waste another moment, his pursuers might be right behind them. After all, they must have been somewhere in the area, after all, they set fire to his house.
– Jake, where are we going? – Kaden asked quietly, scared. Usually he was resolute and exuded ironic jokes, but now he knew how serious the situation was. All he knew was that his older brother was a hacker, and he was damn good at it despite his young age. It wasn't hard to guess that it was easy to get under the skin of the wrong people.
– Somewhere far. We'll stay at a hotel. And tomorrow we'll go to grandma's. – Jake tried to calm his younger brother, even though he knew perfectly well that he would never let his problems endanger another person close to him. He didn't want to admit it, but deep down he knew what he had to do.
He was driving dangerously fast, constantly veering onto country side roads, trying to avoid the traffic. With every mile that passed, he felt worse and worse, more and more guilty.
When they finally arrived at a town that was reasonably safe from being tracked until morning at least, he accommodated the three of them at the first hotel he came across. The receptionist gave a strange look to the black-haired boy who was supporting the barely conscious middle-aged woman, but she didn't ask any questions.
They entered the room they had been given, and Jake led his mother over to the couch. Just as he was about to leave her there, he felt her fists wrap tightly around his sweatshirt, not letting him leave.
– What's going on? – she hoarsed, and the boy looked at her face with a heavy heart. Her pupils were dilated and hands were shaking. Seeing her so lost broke his scarred heart. – What have you gotten yourself into, honey? Can I help you somehow?
Jake clenched his jaw tight to keep from crying.
– No. I can handle it. – he stammered, but his mother's embrace did not ease. Even though his eyesight was beginning to blur from the accumulated tears, he managed a gentle smile. – Don't worry, mom. Everything will be fine.
– Okay. I believe you, Jake. I believe you can fix everything. But promise me something. – he stopped, looking into his eyes, wiping a tear from his cheek.
– What?
– Don't get yourself into trouble any more. – she whispered, her voice breaking. –Whenever you need me, I'll be here. Please, don't ever leave me. I need you, honey.
More tears ran down Jake's cheeks.
– I promise.
But that same night he broke his promise. He broke it when he left the hotel in the morning, leaving his two closest people there. He left a part of himself that he never got back.
4 July 2022
A young woman was awakened in the middle of the night by a strange noise coming from the living room of their temporary apartment. In the dark, she touched the place next to her with her hand, but found only an empty and cold sheet. Burnt, she opened her eyes and got out of bed, listening to the sounds coming from the bedroom door.
Finally she left it and went to the living room, and the view she found there was forever etched in her memory and broke her heart.
She found Jake there, huddled behind the couch, his face red and wet from the tears that shook his body. The girl's heart completely broke when she heard his heartbreaking sobs. His matted hair fell over his forehead. Tears ran down his pale cheeks as he placed a hand over his eyes. The sight hurt. It hurt so much. She had seen Jake lose hope and be broken many times. The boy fell many times, but that night he fell for real.
He fell the moment when he fell to his knees, tears mixing with his every breath. He fell at the point where he had no strength to fight anymore. He fell the moment his last wall fell. One she had no idea about.
Jake rarely wanted to talk about his family. MC even though she was very curious, she respected his decision and never asked. But when she heard one sentence from him, in some strange, incomprehensible way, she knew.
– She is dead. – he whimpered, barely catching his breath – MC, she's dead.
Without thinking, she ran towards him, knocking over a few things in the process. But it didn't matter. Her eyes blurred with her own tears as she knelt beside him. He was still sobbing like a baby when she wrapped her arms around him with all her strength and pulled him to her chest as if she wanted to protect him from all the evil in the world. And he let her. He leaned against her breast, which he was soaking in increasingly hot tears. She squeezed her eyes shut, kissing and stroking his hair.
There were no words that could ease his pain right now.
– Kaden contacted me. – he croaked after a few minutes – Mom suffered from cancer, recently it got worse. And yesterday she left. She's gone forever, I'll never see her again. I will never hear her laugh or see her smile.
She hugged him even tighter, trying to make him even more comfortable.
– Shhh, I'm here. – she whispered, rubbing his back reassuringly – I'm here and I'm not going anywhere.
– I broke my promise to her. I left her. I should have been there for her, especially recently when she was sick. – he said, his voice breaking and a new spasm of tears seized his fragile body. – I'm just like my father.
– Don't even say that. You saved your mother because you loved her more than anything in the world. You had to do it then so as not to endanger her. I'm sure she knew it.
MC knew perfectly well that losing a loved one was one thing, but not being able to say goodbye was another. And much more hard amd painfull.
They didn't know how much time they spent like that, but the black-haired hacker finally began to calm down. She continued to hold him like a precious treasure, kissing his soft hair. With every minute that passed, he began to breathe more and more steadily, until finally the crying stopped completely. They remained silent.
– I'm destroying everything and everyone I care about.
– No. - she interrupted him with determination, and moved away from him slightly – Jake, paradoxically you are the reason why I did not destroy myself. And I'm sure your mom wasn't angry at you. She must have felt that you were protecting her in this way, just as she had protected you throughout your childhood.
His voice was empty. Exactly as he was inside now. Jake stared blankly ahead, his face red from crying for so long. Bloodshot eyes were still a bit glassy.
MC didn't know what to do next. How to fix it. How to make Jake a little lighter. But she knew that she would do anything to bring her beloved back to peace and happiness.
– Take me to her funeral. – he whispered barely audibly, which made her hug him again – I have to .. I have to say goodbye. And apologize.
At that point, it didn't matter the government or the danger they would expose themselves to. She just couldn't and didn't want to say no.
– Of course. – she replied immediately – We will go there together.
Jake gave her a light, barely noticeable smile. He regretted so much that he had lost so many precious moments that they could have shared together. He wished he had introduced MC to his mother, the woman who had completely changed his life. He was sure she would like her. Sometimes she even resembled her. Both were equally stubborn and defended their own opinion. He would turn back time just to tell his mother how much he loves her and how grateful he is for everything she has done for him. But it was too late for that.
Ophelia's spirit, however, saw it all and was finally able to leave in peace, seeing that her son had finally found his love, soulmate, and above all, the person who saved him from falling to the very bottom.
"It was night when you died, my firefly
What could I have said to raise you from the dead?
Oh could I be the sky on the fourth of july?
We're all gonna die"
#duskwood jake#duskwood#duskwood fandom#duskwood jake x mc#everbyte duskwood#jake duskwood#duskwood fanfiction#everbyte studios
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