#i am horrible at writing so it is what it is

[ao3commentoftheday]

Feel free to delete this, but: in light of all of the stuff about creative envy/jealousy lately, I'm wondering if you have any advice for a person whose creative self-esteem has been completely destroyed by negative fandom experiences. I greatly appreciate your blog and I'm not sure where else to turn at this point. I am an older person in fandom (I am nearly fifty) and in a conservative career path, and I have nobody IRL I can talk to about fandom-related business for fear of judgment, retaliation, or just "making things worse".

I've been writing fanfiction for around fifteen years, mostly in several video game fandoms. In 2022 I started writing for a smaller fandom (like, <1000 works on AO3 kind of small), which is what got me to finally join Tumblr. Right away, I realized it was the same three people (over and over) in this fandom who seemed to organize all collaborative projects and just sort of "hovered around" everyone. One of them was a very popular author, and they both wrote a popular ship (we'll call them "X/Y"), whereas I preferred to ship X with Z. I generally kept to myself and did my own thing. I occasionally wrote smut with these characters, but mostly just supernatural dramas and humor rated M or below.

My writing, of course, was not popular (because of the ship, I'd presume - which, mind you, was two consenting adults), and the lack of engagement/feedback was really shitty (but manageable to a degree). But then these people who seemed to hold all the social capital in this fandom started coming after me. It started with passive-aggressive vagueposting, and it ended with one of them messaging me out of nowhere (while I was at work) to tell me I was not allowed to submit any work to an "anthology" they were curating because my work made them all feel "icky", while one of the others refused to interact with me at all despite not even knowing me (which another person told me was over shipping, too). I was also told nobody wanted to do fic trades/prompts with me because my work was "too out there" and was "causing discomfort". My work isn't kink/fetish, gore, pro-bigotry or anything like that - it's just a minor-character ship that people got their undies wadded up over for a reason I still don't understand.

I ended up so crushed by this backlash that I stopped writing anything to do with that game and unfollowed/blocked most content related to it as well. And now I want to write something new, and share something new on AO3, and I just...can't. I'm so scared that this will just happen to me again, I'm convinced the problem is me, that I'm a terrible writer, that I'm a reject and a freak, that I brought all of this on myself by doing something unpopular/different, and I'm just...not sure how to abort this creative self-hate spiral I've gotten stuck in, and I'd appreciate any thoughts you could give me, because time and space and touching grass aren't fixing it.

Oh anon, I'm so sorry you went through that 💗 None of that was your fault, and none of it was deserved. You were being bullied by a group of mean-minded individuals who decided to target you over, presumably, which two dolls you liked to make kiss.

None of their behaviour was actually about you. Nothing you did was actually wrong. You're not a terrible writer or a reject or a freak. You're a human being who was treated horribly by others. Those fans who were bullying you have a lot more to be ashamed of than you do.

I totally understand why you'd feel the way you do, anon. The tactics that they used convinced you that you were the problem instead of them. But bullying is always about the issues that the bully isn't dealing with. Their ego, their insecurities, their need for power or control.

I'm sorry that you don't have a support system you can talk to, and I'm glad you reached out. If you have the ability to, I'd recommend seeking a counsellor or therapist that you can talk to about it more. People in those roles shouldn't be judgmental in the way you're fearing, and they might be able to give you that support that you don't have anywhere else.

I hope you do continue writing, since it's something that brings you joy. And when you're ready to post on AO3 again, make sure you use the tools available to protect you from bullying again. You can restrict comments to just registered (logged-in) users, and if someone starts harassing you, report it to the Policy & Abuse team. Restrict asks on tumblr so that you don't allow anons - or even turn your ask box off altogether.

I can't tell you with 100% certainty that this won't happen again, unfortunately. But what I can tell you is that people like that are a tiny minority in fandom. While they might end up accruing power sometimes and even become BNFs, there will always be people who see them for who they really are.

In the end, whether you write and post again or not, I just want you to know that you're not a horrible person, and you're not a freak. You're a fan who was writing about something you love, and you didn't deserve to be treated like that. 💗

[ilovewanda]

is it casual?

wanda maximoff x reader.

sub!wanda

angst, smut, fluff

authors note: I got a laptop so if my formatting or anything looks different it's because of that. I am going to start writing longer one shots now because I have a computer! I wrote this from a different point of view so please let me know what you think!

I walk out of the bar and onto the streets. a frown is on my face, and my feet hurt from hours of dancing. I notice that my phone is on 4% when I look down and see an incoming call from her. wanda fucking maximoff. I haven't spoken to her since the break up (which was incredibly messy). I try to think of any reasons she could be calling me, none come to mind.

I hesitate for a moment before I decide to pick up the phone. maybe it was the alcohol in my system, or maybe it is due to the fact that I have been yearning to hear her voice for months.

"hello? wanda, why are you calling me?". I am met with silence on the other side of the phone until I hear sniffling which soon turns into sobbing.

"y/n please, I need you here right now, please!" wanda exclaims.

I take a moment to think about what wanda said. I know that if I go over there, it might change all of the healing I have been going through.

"I'll be there in 5." I respond before swiftly making my way to Wandas house. her place was closer to the bar than mine is, so it's less walking for me anyways.

during the walk I can feel myself shiver due to how freezing it is outside. New York always had such unforgiving winters. I curse at myself quietly because I am currently on the side of the street, walking to my ex girlfriends house, with a dead phone, and I'm sure I will wake up with an insane hangover tomorrow morning.

why do I do this to myself? i could be at home in my cozy bed with my dog instead of making bad decisions such as this. the walk felt very quick due to how zoned out I was during the entire time.

I open the main door to the apartment complex and try to get as much snow off of the bottoms of my shoes that I can. wanda always hated it when I would drag snow throughout her house. I make my way up the flights of stairs until I reach the third floor.

I walk down the hallway until I reach her door. I hesitate, unsure if I should knock or text her that I am here. before I can make a decision the door is thrown open and I see a sobbing wanda in front of me. I am unable to say anything before she throws herself on me and wraps her arms around me in a massive bear hug.

I wrap my hands around her thighs and pick her up into a safe and warm hug. I internally cringe at myself after doing this, reminding myself that we aren't together. thankfully, wanda doesn't seem to mind as she melts into the hug.

I close her apartment door with my foot, and walk both of us over to the couch. "y'n, I've missed you so much. I can't go on without you in my life! ill do anything, just please. I need you."

and that's how it all started.

"casual" was the term that wanda liked to use.

basically, whenever she got horny or needed someone to cry on she would call me. and in return I would get to see my ex girlfriend a few times a month.

this has been going on for 7 months now. in the beginning I was thrilled with her idea of being "casual" because I just wanted to be near her. however the feeling of excitement did not stay very long. I quickly felt as though I was being used.

It even got to the point where I would cross my fingers every night that wanda wouldn't call me the following day. unfortunately, today was one of those days. this was literally the worst day that wanda could have possibly called me.

I had a raging headache, and my boss was being extremely overbearing today. her calling me was just one last thing to add to my list of reasons why today sucks. the only reason I agreed to Wanda's plead for me to come over was because I hoped I could tell her about my horrible day. she said she just needed someone to talk to today, and I needed the same thing.

however when I arrived at her apartment and walked through the door, it was very clear that she did not invite me over to talk. she jumped into my arms and began making out with me the second that I walked through the doors.

wanda then jumped back down onto the floor and dragged me into her bedroom as she continued kissing me. she then pushed me onto the bed as she began pulling down my leggings.

"wanda, stop! I'm tired of this! I'm tired of being your fuck buddy! ive had the worst day ever, but you don't even bother to ask before you try and jump my bones the moment I walk through the door! I'm done. whatever this whole "casual" thing is, I want out of it." I say.

I finally look up at wanda who has an extremely red face and is clearly looking very guilty. I scoff before I pull my leggings back up and run out of her apartment. I walk back home in tears as I think about how she has used me. I could have been spending all of this time meeting someone new. someone who actually cares about me. instead i've been spending time with someone who wants to be "casual".

----

after the outburst I did not hear from wanda for days. no texts, no calls, no apology flowers. this made the situation hurt even worse because I knew that this didn't even phase her. i spent a few days keeping to myself. I didn't leave my apartment until I needed to, due to running out of food.

I made myself look generally presentable to go out in public, in hope that it would make me feel better. as I walk out of the door I get a text.

"you left your bag with your work computer in it here. can you come get it at 3?". the audacity that this women has is insane. not even a simple "sorry". she just wants my shit out of her apartment.

I reply "k." to make sure that she understands that I am not happy with her. she always used to hate when I wouldn't type out the word "okay" in my texts. I feel a pain in my heart when I think about the way that things used to be between us. before my thoughts can linger on the past too much I begin to make my way to Wandas since it was already 2:45.

I walk to Wandas house slower than I needed to. I couldn't show up to here house on time after she did what she did to me. I made sure to wait outside of her apartment for 3 minutes so that I wasn't exactly on time. you can call me petty all that you want, but at the end of the day I know what gets on Wandas nerves better than anyone. she HATES when people are late.

I quietly knock on the door, and I hear scurrying feet on the other side of the door. I hear her unlock the deadbolt, and I look down at my shoes so that I don't have to look her in the eyes when she hands me my stuff.

"hey thanks for texting about my bag that was really ni-" I was cut off with a gasp as I looked up and looked around Wandas apartment. pictures of us from when we were together are all around the room. the overhead light is off as the sun pours in beautifully through the shades. there are beautiful pink and red balloons everywhere, and a very nicely set dinner table with two plates and my favorite meal ready to eat.

"come in, sit down!" wanda ushers me over to the table.

I sit, unsure of what is going on. as wanda pours me some red wine. once she pours me a glass of wine, she sits down at the seat opposite from me. she grabs my hand as she begins speaking.

"y/n I am so beyond sorry for what happened last week. I never meant for you to feel that way. I knew I needed you back in my life somehow, and I convinced myself that you wouldn't want to get back together with me, so I figured that there was a chance that I could get you to agreee to something casual with me. I know we said no feelings involved but for me that was a lie from the start and I am so so sorry that I wasn't honest with you and I apologize if you don't feel the same way but-" wanda was cut off as I pressed a kiss to her lips.

"oh, my baby. I have been feeling the exact same way about you. I needed you so badly. I was crushed after we broke up because I never really wanted that from the start. please me mine again? please be my girl." I say.

wanda wasted no time as she squealed out "Yes! Yes, oh my god y/n I've missed you so much. I am so sorry for everything, please never leave me ever again. you're my person." wanda whimpered as she dug her head into my neck with a smile.

wanda smiles at me with tears in her eyes before I roughly pull her into a kiss. ive missed kissing her more than anything in the whole world. her perfect pink lips, and the little sighs she makes when we kiss.

"please, y/n I need you. I haven't felt you in so long. please have me." wanda whines.

I can't help but joke "well that depends, is it casual?" with a smirk.

"fuck being casual, I want everyone to know that I'm yours baby please mark me!" wanda begs with a smile on her face.

I smirk as I rip her shirt off as I pick her up and place her on the table. I look at her perfect tits, covered in a bright red bra. as much as I love looking at her perky boobs in a bra, I so desperately needed to feel all of her as soon as possible.

I take off her bra gracefully, as I begin my attack on her cleavage. I leave many hickeys as I go back and forth between sucking each nipple and marking her up. I've missed having my girl all bruised up, I can't wait to ruin wanda tonight.

as I hear her whimpers and moans increase I decide to move this scene into the bedroom. I lay wanda down on the bed as I pull down her jeans and pull down her gorgeous lacy red thong.

"y/n please be so rough with me. I deserve it. please mommy." wanda whispers in my ear.

her dirty words turn me on even more as I move my way down her body. kissing every inch of skin that I possibly can, until I finally reach her pussy. she is soaking wet. her slick is shimmering in the light and her body is writhing and moving around like a slut who is so desperate to get fucked.

I decide against teasing her, because I am just as desperate as she is. I dive in with my tongue and shut my eyes in bliss as I finally am able to taste her on my tongue again. wanda is quick to moan as she immediately lets her hands fly to my hair.

"I never gave you any permission to touch me wanda, did I?'

"no, I'm so sorry I won't go it again" wanda whimpers at the loss of contact.

"I think you deserve to be punished" I say with a wicked grin on my face.

wanda lets out the sluttiest noise I have ever heard as she sees me walking into her closet to find her box of toys. I search through the box until I decide on the wand vibrator. I walk back over to the bed and tie wanda up with rope. her hands are tied up to the headboard while her feet are tied to the end of the bed.

once she is securely tied up I turn the wand on, and begin moving it all over her body.

"my little rope bunny. you like it when I play with you like this, don't you baby?" I ask wanda with a teasing tone in my voice.

she nods her head and gasps as I let the vibrator run over her perky and pink nipples. then I continue to tease her and move the vibrator down her body until I finally reach her pussy. I hold the vibrator down onto her pussy and turn up the intensity all the way.

wanda lets out a very loud moan as the vibrator sends shocks throughout her entire body. I know her body so well and I know how to have her on the edge within seconds.

"y/n! mama, mommy please let me come, ill do anything!" wanda screams as her body trashes on the bed.

"do you promise to be a good girl for me if I let you come?" I question as I whimper in her ear.

"Yes! Yes! Yes, mommy please please please I'm so close mommy!" wanda shouts.

"okay gorgeous, you can come I suppose" I say as her eyes shut and she yells while her orgasm washes over her. I pull the vibrator away from her pussy so that I don't overstimulate her too much.

"mommy I need to feel you, please fuck me I need it" wanda says quickly after she recovers from her orgasm.

"whatever you want, my needy baby" I say as I climb on top of her and situate our legs.

I position my clit over hers as I then begin grinding down onto her and we both let out soft moans as the euphoria takes over our bodies. both of us so built up after not seeing each other for a while. I lose all self control as I begin aggressively grinding onto her to bring our orgasms closer.

I grab and touch all over her perfect body as I rock our hips together, and I can't stop thinking about how absolutely perfect she is.

"come with me baby, I'm so close" I moan out as I speed up my rocking motion.

Both of us are so close to our releases, and so I move at an inhuman pace in order for both of us to reach our highs. once e hit our highs we scream together as she squirts all over my pussy and lower body.

once my breathing is back to normal and I have come down from my high, I move to untie wanda.

"oh my baby, you were so so good for me" I say as I pepper kisses all over Wandas face.

I pick her up and move her to the couch as I change the sheets. once the bed is clean again and I have the other sheets in the wash I look over at wanda. she is fast asleep on the couch. naked. I giggle at the sight before I pick her up and carry her into bed with me. I cuddle up to her and hold onto her as tight as I can. promising to myself that ill never let her go ever again.

[chaosandmarigolds]

me, laying in bed after my 12hr shift:

my gf: remember that ask you got

me: ..

gf:

me: aside from wondering how you accessed my Tumblr I’ve gotten a lot of asks which one. gf: the sad one. me: 99% of them are sad

gf: The REALLY sad one

ANYWAY here we go and bc I am horrible with titles imma go after a song-

Tourner Dans Le Vide

It was a stupid question, one someone would find on a ‘get to know about me’ section of a questionnaire, a small talkish question. But it stung like he didn’t expect it to, so as he stood in the gala, glass in hand, he cleared his throat, “Sorry, one more time mate?”

“Your spouse.” The poor person motioned to the finger that comfortably sat on his ring finger, the gold glimmering in the sunset light, “Are they here?”

You should’ve been here. You had the outfit planned for months. You knew you wanted to get your hair done the day before, insisting that you ought to look nice to represent your family name.

“No, got caught up at home unfortunately.”

“Ah, kids?”

“Two.” Not a lie, you had two young girls you had both adopted, just now he was just the only person within the household, adding more weight to their shoulders.

—

with a huff he gets into the car and then takes off the face mask, scrunching his nose as he adjusted to the cold air, and he starts the car. After a moment he pulls out his phone, expecting a notification from your name above Macey’s, the eldest, yet he was surprised to see none.

so with a hum he makes sure the phone is conntected to the car and begins to call you, shifting the car to drive, it rings….and rings until he is met with-

“hey! It’s me, sorry I’m not at the phone right now, leave me a message and I’ll get back to ya!”

the short automated message follows and he begins to drive home on the darkened roads, until it was his turn to speak, “Luv, it’s Simon, baby I know I was out really late yesterday but I brought the girls some pizza, Macey had her rugby game this mornin- she did amazin. Taylor got an A on her spelling test, so I got her ice cream after school today. What else..mm, the girls send you love. I love you. Call me when you can.”

—

“Papa,” Taylor chirps from her car seat, happily looking out the window, “Papa, when is mama coming home?”

He furrows his eyebrows to the questions and then shrugs, “I’m not sure, princess, I hope soon.”

“did you and mama have fight? Is tha’ why she go way?”

“No no, princess, mama and I didn’t fight- she’s okay, she’s just,” the words died in his throat, because maybe he knew them to be a lie but he would never admit such, “busy. You know how mama works real long hours.”

—

“How’s ya dad?” Johnny stood in the doorway of the ordinary home, peering in from where he stood as Macey stood in front of him- the young girl still in her gear.

to that she shrugs, allowing the man she had learned to be her uncle enter, “fine I guess.”

upon entering the home Johnny noticed your coat still hanging on the rack, even though it was the middle of summer so it mismatched from the girls pink pool towels, he noticed how your mug sat beside the coffee maker, hot water steaming inside- indicating it was just filled. He noticed how your spot on the dining table still had your notebook, pen still tucked where you had left off writing.

he then saw Simon walking down the stairs, and he gave him a grin, “Haven’t been answerin my calls, mate,” with a quick side hug he nudged the man, “Got worried bout ya.”

Simon shrugs it off with a brief laugh, “Got caught up here, with her off at work- got a lil busy.” his heart dropped, and Johnny clears his throat, “Mm? At work she is?”

“Yeah, more like fuckin deployed, never see her.”

it had been close to nine months since a car accident had taken your life, suddenly and harsh, and Simon chose to completely leave his position within the force to stay with the girls. Something Johnny could respect, losing a spouse was a horrid thing but until that moment he had assumed his friend had been taking it in stride. He fell quiet and followed Simon as he said he needed to grab something from the laundry room, so he followed.

His eye caught sight of the master bedroom, lit up by the summer sun (Simon had never been a fan of natural light, unless he was outside) one side of the room messy, clothes tossed about and looking like a proper grieving man’s room, and the other just how would have left it, a glass of water sitting atop a floral coaster, bed still made with the pillows creased just how you do them. The small bottle of perfume still tossed atop of it- as you put it on that morning and threw it on the bed as you ran out the door.

oh…this was not good. This was not good at all.

(um…yeah!! Based off an amazing ask! Comments mean the world to me, toodles!!)

[yoonguurt]

Summary: Spring brings with it the need for a change. You're in a writing rut and that just can't happen right now. You decided to spend a few months with your aunt at her massive garden estate. for the first time in 10 years. Dreams of a boy you don't remember become a nightly thing. Who is this boy?

Pairing: Hongjoong x fem!reader

Genre: fluff, angst, smut, fantasy

AU/Trope: long lost friends to lovers, a twist on The Secret Garden

Word count: 12,295

Warnings: parental death, themes of curses, talks of insanity, mentions of kidnapping, a horrible old woman, threats. I think that's all but it's also 2 am so brain a little fuzzy. NSFW warnings under the cut

A/N: This is for the Language of Flowers event for @cultofdionysusnet I really did put everything I have into this fic. It has taken me a while and I will probably revisit this later since I didn't get everything I wanted in here. Thank you to @kwanisms for making the title banner and reading bits and pieces of this. @anyamaris @pyeonghongrie @justhere4kpop @stardragongalaxy also helped me with reading some of this. Thank you guys for putting up with the screenshots and eye emojis.

Smut warnings: unprotected sex (do not do, I will hunt you down), fingering, dry humping, so much kissing, Hongjoong is king of aftercare, virgin Hongjoong, there's no power dynamic here, they’re just soft

Walking into the courtyard of your aunt’s estate was like walking back into a long lost memory. You spent many summers here as a child and while it had been some of the best times of your life, as you had gotten older, the trips stopped. Once you began to transcend into your older teen years, the allure of the massive mansion and grounds lost its appeal. You stopped coming when you were 15. You remember that there was a specific reason why, you just couldn’t remember what that reason was. 

You closed the large iron gate behind you, listening as it made a loud creak. The gate was covered in rust, which was unusual since your aunt was a very meticulous woman. She had to have everything in perfect condition at all times. At least, that was how she was the last time you had seen her 10 years ago. From the phone call you shared, she seemed to still be the same woman she had always been. She may be older, but she still has the same fiery spirit she’s always had. You guess that was where you got it from. 

In all honesty, you have never been overly close with your aunt. You loved her, sure, but she was kind of a mean woman. She was quite a few years younger than your father, 11 to be exact, so she wasn’t elderly when you were a child. She seemed to be a little miserable your entire life, though you were too young to realize that at the time. Thinking back on it now, you realized that your aunt had any possession she could ever want, but you had never seen her have a companion of any sort. No women from the nearby town ever came to visit, and you had never seen a man, other than Steven the gardener, ever pass through the gates. You knew that no one needed anyone of the opposite sex to make their lives better, but you also knew that she must live a lonely life.

The real reason you fell in love with coming to stay the summers was the grounds. The estate was massive. Many times you had spent all day wandering around the grounds, just exploring everything your heart yearned for. You knew you had a favorite spot when you were younger, but its location was another thing slipping your mind. You’d have to make a mental note to try and find your special spot.

The old door is silent as you open in and step inside. That’s one thing that hasn’t changed. A quick glance around the foyer lets you know that not much inside the house has changed either. There are still the same two blue and white flowered vases standing on either side of the door, holding the same kind of lilies they had always held. The small table that held the rotary phone was still in the same place at the base of the stairs, rotary phone still sat atop. Even the curtains were the same. A light sage in color, small embroidered flowers running down the fabric. 

Flowers were always a large part of the decor of your aunt’s home. Each guest room in the house was themed with a different flower. There were numerous gardens spread throughout the grounds, some with mixed plants and some that only grew a particular plant. You knew flowers were really important to your aunt, though every time your curious child tendencies come forward, she would only give a stiff smile and tell you that flowers were beautiful and a woman of her standing deserved to have beauty all around her. Looking back, you can see how forced her smile had been.

“Aunt Helen!” Your voice rang throughout the empty home, surprising even yourself at just how loud your voice carried. You had been told to come right in and make yourself at home, but it didn’t feel right. Not only had you not been here in ten years after abruptly deciding that you didn’t want to return for the summer of your 16th year, but you had also called her out of nowhere to ask if you could spend some time there. Her side of the line had been silent for a few moments before she told you that there shouldn’t be an issue with you coming, but it still felt like she wasn’t sure about her decision. 

You hear footsteps coming from the top of the stairs and you turn to face the stairway with a smile. Helen comes around the corner, her face showing no emotion as she looks down at you. “Y/N. How nice to see you, dear.” Her voice is pleasant enough, though her face is still blank. You guess you must have hurt her by your sudden refusal to come back during your teen years, and then surprised her with an equally sudden request to return. You try to shake the thought from your head, making sure to keep your smile. “Thank you so much for letting me spend the next few months here. I know it was a sudden request, but I think it will really do me some good.”

The last year of your life had been hectic to say the least. You moved from your home on the outskirts of the city to the city proper to be closer to publishers. You had always wanted to be a writer. You could remember always having notebooks full of stories as a child. You had hid them away in any room you could find. By the time you turned 16, you had probably filled 50 notebooks. Like many children, the stories were fantastical and some were nonsense, but it was the process of writing that you enjoyed. Bringing whatever idea that had popped into your head to life was an addiction to you. 

Helen’s voice snapped you out of your thoughts, making you focus your attention back on the aging lady who was now making her way down the stairs. “It’s no problem at all, dear. There’s no one here but me and Steven, so there’s plenty of room.” Her feet stop in front of you as she lifts her arms toward you for a hug. You quickly drop your bags, scrambling to return her gesture as quickly as you can. The hug is an awkward one. Arms are around middles, but there is a gap between bodies. To anyone looking from a distance, it would seem as if you two don’t even know each other. But, at this time in your life, that’s essentially true. The hug breaks apart almost as soon as it begins, both of you taking a step back to put some distance between you. 

“I’m sure you’ve had a long trip. Go ahead and choose your room and get settled. Though, I’m sure you’ll choose the gardenia room. It always was your favorite.” A smile creeps to your lips at the mention of your childhood choice of room. She was right about it. That room had been your favorite. “Do you still have the gardenia garden, Aunt Helen?” The look on her face takes you aback a little. For a split second, she looks angry. She quickly changes her expression to one of confusion. “Oh dear, there’s never been a garden dedicated solely to gardenias. However, there are some planted in one of the rose gardens. Maybe that is what you’re thinking of.” It’s your turn to be confused. You distinctly remember playing in a garden full of nothing but gardenias. 

You don’t want to argue, there is a chance that you created that memory as one of your stories, so you give her a nod as you tell her that you’re going to go get settled. You grab your bags, though you didn’t bring many, the three that you do have are large and filled to the brim. Making your way up the stairs is a little tricky since there are 20 of them in total, but you manage. Turning left at the top of the stairs, you pick up your pace a little, excited to get to your room. It sits at the end of the hall on the right side. You take a deep breath as you set your bags down to open the door, making sure to open it slowly so you get the wave of nostalgia that you know will come with seeing the room for the first time in years. 

Seeing the room is like a breath of fresh air. It feels like coming home after a long day of work, knowing that relaxation and happiness are waiting for you. It almost makes you want to cry. You leave your bags at the door for a moment, you just need to feel the room first. There are fresh gardenias in a small, white vase on the bedside table. That has always been one of your favorite smells and it makes your heart flutter when it hits your nose. The king size bed has the same white and green bed set it’s always had. The handmade quilt, certainly not made by your aunt, is the color of grass and has gardenias sewn into the fabric. You run your hand over the top of the quilt, memories of spending nights completely enveloped in the warmth of the fabric as you write in one of the many notebooks you always brought with you.

There’s an oak writing table that stands in front of the large bay window that overlooks an area that looks different than the rest of the estate. It looks more run down, like it hadn’t been taken care of in years. You could have sworn that it was once a beautiful garden that you had spent much of your time in. It hits you that you seem to remember that patch of land being your favorite spot, but it doesn’t seem like that is true. 

You turn your attention to the wallpaper. It gives a little more color to the room. The background of the paper is a soft yellow while images of gardenia bushes cover the rest. All perfectly spaced out, just like you know Helen had wanted. You finally decided to grab your bags and start to put your things away, a little more pep in your step. You’re more than excited to be back in this room, where it seems like all of your story ideas seemed to have formed. You feel as if you had the greatest idea for a story while staying here over those summers, but it’s just another thing you can’t remember. Perhaps it will come back with time. You certainly need it to come back.

After all of your things are put away, you make your way back down the stairs to familiarize yourself with the house again. You’re sure that it will all come flooding back, but you’d rather get the learning process over now to prevent any future issues. The sitting room is off to the left of the stairs, through a doorway, the dining room is off to the right. Deciding to look through the left side of the house first, you make your way into the sitting room. The same old couches and chairs adorn the room, though they still look like they’ve never been used. You guess that there’s a chance that they haven’t. The fireplace stands tall and clean, another thing you’re sure Helen has never used. There are multiple tables placed around the room, all made with dark, polished wood. 

To the left there’s another doorway, this one leading into the sunroom. Wicker chairs are placed a few feet from each other, a small table in between each chair. You remember spending your time here when the rain prevented you from your outdoor adventures. You’d sit on the floor since the chairs were always uncomfortable, writing your heart out. You sure wish you could find where those notebooks had gone. The back half of the first floor is Steven’s quarters. He’s always been a nice man, but he keeps to himself and you respect that.

Making your way back through the sitting room, you take a second to look out of the small window that sits on the front of the house. Gardens fill your field of view. More gardens than you ever thought a person could have. You feel certain that Helen has a garden for every flower she could possibly grow. 

The dining room houses a table long enough to sit around 14 people, though you know nowhere near that many people have even been in the house. Like everything else, it’s a dark, polished wood. Helen is nothing but consistent in her design choices. The kitchen sits behind a set of double doors, which are painted a pristine white, no doubt kept clean by the lack of traffic. Helen has to have a maid that comes and cleans at some point, there’s no way she’d ever stoop so low as to clean herself. You already know what the kitchen will look like, large stoves and ovens that could cook meals for an obscene amount of people. Your watch tells you that it will be dark soon so you put off your plan of going out to the gardens until tomorrow. 

Helen is nowhere to be seen, though you aren’t surprised. She’s always been a mysterious woman, keeping to herself much like Steven. A rumbling from your stomach lets you know that you should probably eat, which means that you have to actually venture into the kitchen. Opening the doors, you’re surprised to find a portly woman rummaging through some pans. “Oh. I didn’t realize someone was in here. Usually Steven is the only staff that stays here at the mansion.” Your voice seems to startle the woman, causing her to hit her head on the cabinet she was looking in. She lets out a groan as she rubs the back of her head. “Fuck! Shit! Damn! I am so sorry!” You aren’t sure if you mean to curse, but it happens anyway. The lady turns to face you, a bright smile on her face. “It’s ok, really. I probably would have done that even if you hadn’t startled me.” The giggle she lets out after speaking is infectious, making you giggle along with her. “I’m Julia.” You take her outstretched hand and give it a firm shake. “I’m Y/N. Helen is my aunt.” 

You watch as Julia’s expression sours and you’re half expecting it to bounce back, but it doesn’t. “Didn’t know that mean, old broad had family.” She immediately seems to realize what she said since her eyes go wide and she looks a little panicked. “Oh, shoot! I’m sorry! I didn’t mean that. Ms. Helen is lovely.” Her nervous giggle and her flustered state makes you smile. “Hey, you’re the one that works here and spends more time here than I do. Your opinion of her is probably more accurate than mine. I haven’t seen her since I was 15.” She heaves a sigh of relief at your blatant uncaring attitude towards her unkind words about your aunt. “Whew. Thought I really made a mess of things there. Can I get you something to eat?” You give her a shake of your head, telling her that you were just refamiliarizing yourself with the house before you head up to your room. She gives you a little nod and a smile, telling you that she’ll be heading home soon, but she’ll be back the next morning for breakfast. 

The bed in the gardenia room looks like heaven as you walk through the door. Maybe the trip hit you harder than you expected or maybe it’s just being back here, but your eyes are suddenly heavy and all you want is to sleep. No alarm, no designated time to wake up, just sleep as long as your body needs. You take your time changing into your pajamas and washing your face and brushing your teeth before climbing between the sheets and stretching out. It hits you that you haven’t let your mother know that you arrived safely, so you pull out your phone to type out a quick text. Annoyance comes over you as you look at the screen. No service, of course. You should have known, you are in the middle of nowhere after all. You make the decision to call her from Helen’s phone tomorrow. You wiggle a little, making yourself comfortable and set your phone back on the bedside table, not even bothering to charge it. Flicking the lamp off, you quickly fall into a sleep filled with dreams of a boy with a dazzling smile. 

You wake up feeling more rested than you have felt in years. The sun is already high in the sky when you crawl out of bed and shuffle to the bathroom. You settle for a simple sundress to wear for the day, grabbing a cardigan just in case you get a chill. Today, you explore the gardens. Breakfast is being put away when you make your way into the dining room. Luckily, Julia spots you and greets you with a smile and a wave. “Morning, sunshine. I saved you a plate. I put it in the microwave for you.” You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your stomach growling at the mention of food. You follow her into the kitchen, reaching into the microwave to grab the plate of blueberry pancakes and bacon and involuntarily let out a moan. “These are my favorite. How did you know?” Julia gives you a sly smile. “A certain gardener told me.” Steven? There’s no way he remembered that. You haven’t seen him in years. The look on your face must give your thoughts away. “That man remembers everything. It’s insane, really. So, what are your plans for the day?”

The sundress was a great choice. The weather is wonderful. It’s not too hot, not too cold, the perfect balance fornthe spring. There’s a light breeze blowing, enough to keep you cool, but not make you cold. It’s the perfect day for exploring. You stand by the steps, looking around trying to figure out where to go first. After some thought, you decided to start with the daisy garden. It took some time for you to orient yourself, but you managed more quickly than you thought you would, though most of the layout seemed like muscle memory to you. 

The daisies were off to the left of the grounds, tall hedges sounding the garden. That was something universal with the gardens. Every garden had hedges all the way around it, Helen’s way of making sure that to be able to fully see the garden, you had to actually enter the garden. Every hedge was neatly trimmed, Steven’s doing you’re sure. Taking your time, you slowly maneuvered your way through the garden. Daisies of every color surrounded you, some you were sure were some sort of hybrid or something. Helen seemed to have flowers in colors you had never seen before. There was a patch of what looked like a peach color, and it honestly took your breath away.

In the center of the garden, there was a stone bench that gave a good view of the hedge lion that stood in front of you. You weren’t sure you’d ever not be amazed by Steven’s gardening skills. Every garden seemed to be like it came right out of a fairy tale. The thought of why Helen never opened the grounds to onlookers crossed your mind as you stared at the beauty of the daisy garden, but you quickly dismissed it. Helen was a selfish woman, you wouldn’t dream of denying that. There was no way she would share the possession most dear to her with anyone that she wasn’t related to. You also weren’t sure anyone would come. Your aunt had a bit of a reputation for being a rude woman. 

A memory of going to town on your last summer here came to the forefront of your mind. Helen had taken you to town with her for some reason or another. She rarely made trips into town so you had been excited for the journey. Everyone seemed to move out of the way as Helen walked by. At the time, you hadn’t thought much of it, assuming that they were just being polite. Thinking back on it now, it seemed like they had been afraid of her. It was like they were living in fear of even being perceived by her. 

You had heard them whispering, and if Helen had heard she hadn’t let on. You hadn’t been able to make out much of what they had been saying, mostly just ‘witch’ and ‘old Mrs. Kim.’ That brought back another memory. On your rare trips into town, you had heard old Mrs. Kim mentioned numerous times. Mostly when mothers were disciplining their children for being out late. “I told you to be back here by dusk! Do you want me to end up like old Mrs. Kim?” You hadn’t been, and still weren’t, sure what that meant. Other times, it had been when two women were talking, usually one insinuating that the other was crazy. “You’re acting like old Mrs. Kim, you need to get your head on straight.” You made a mental note to ask Helen who Mrs. Kim had been.

The sun was starting to be a bit much for you, though it wasn’t unbearably hot, you were starting to get a bit uncomfortable. Heaving yourself off of the bench, you made your way back through the garden, still taking your time. The entrance to the garden gave you another flash of memory. A vision of you running as fast as you could, white dress flowing with each step you made. You couldn’t have been more than 9. There was a smile on your face, and it made you smile just seeing the memory. Past you ran towards the run down part of the grounds, but the memory faded as you reached your destination. You shook your head as the image of yourself disappeared, your feet automatically carrying you back to the house. You’d make it to investigate the dilapidated garden. Eventually.

Climbing the stairs to the front porch, the urge to sit in one of the rocking chairs hit you. You smiled to yourself before making your way inside and to the kitchen. You were sure Julia must have made some tea or lemonade, maybe both. Pushing the doors to the kitchen open, the smell of food invaded your nostrils and you gave a pleased hum. “You took longer than I thought you would. It's been about 3 hours.” That explains the sun. You gave her a toothy grin as you made your way to the fridge. “Any chance you have tea or lemonade in here?” The woman gave you a smirk before she spoke. “Both.” You knew it.

Planting yourself in one of the rocking chairs, you sipped your drink. The mix of tea and lemonade was as refreshing and you had hoped. Your thoughts wandered without control. Who had you been running to? Your mind drifted back to the dream you had the night before. The boy with the dazzling smile. Who was he? He seemed so familiar to you, but you couldn't quite place where you knew him from. Maybe he had been a playmate from town. But then again, that didn't make any sense. You were barely in town as a child and even when you were, you never spoke to anyone.

The creaking of the door brought you out of your thoughts. You turned, expecting Julia to walk through, perhaps taking a small break while the food was in the oven. Instead, Steven's form greeted you. “Steven! It's been a long time, how have you been?” Your voice seemed to startle the man since his head whipped in your direction, eyes a little wide. He relaxed once he realized that you were the one speaking. “It's good to see you again, Miss Y/N.” Your face scrunched at the title. He had always called you that and you had always hated it.

“I've told you a thousand times, just call me Y/N. Miss Y/N makes me feel old and like you're below me or something. Helen may like that, but I'm not Helen.” Steven gave you a soft smile as he made his way to sit in the chair to your left. “No can do, Miss Y/N. I'm a gentleman with manners.” The statement made you laugh and give him a playful swat on the arm. “The most gentleman to ever gentleman, Steven.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, enjoying each other's presence. Steven had never been the most talkative, but he had always been comforting. He listened to your childish ramblings all those years ago, nodding his head and gasping when you said something dramatic. He was a friend to you and you loved him for that. 

It was Steven who finally broke the silence, surprisingly. “It sure has been quite lonely without having your visits, Miss Y/N. Glad to have you back. The gardens need you.” You gave him a bright smile, though you were sure that the gardens were thriving in his perfectly capable hands. “Steven, these gardens need no one but you. They're only this beautiful because of the time and care you put into them.” The look on his face was a little somber as he spoke again. “I appreciate it, Miss Y/N, but you and your heart are more needed than you realize. But you will remember in time.” With that, he stood and walked off into the grounds, leaving you rather confused.

The sun was starting to set by the time you went back into the house. Your stomach was starting to growl, and you were sure dinner was close to being ready, if it wasn't already finished. Helen was descending the stairs as you made your way through the front door. “Dear, dinner is ready and you look a bit of a mess.” She glanced down at your hands and legs, which prompted you to look as well. You did have a bit of dirt on your skin. “Go wash up before you join me.” 

Helen had always been this way, a bit rude. You flashed her a tight smile, nodding as you made your way to your room. Stepping through the door of your special sanctuary, you heaved a sigh of relief. The room just felt lighter than the rest of the house. You made quick work of undressing and showering, a bit eager to get food into your body. Once you were bathed and dressed, you stepped out into the hall, not noticing the notebook sitting on your bedside table.

Dinner passed slowly. There wasn't much conversation, though the food was amazing. Julia had made roast and potatoes with a side salad, and you were sure you had never tasted a roast so tender and full of flavor. Voices from the kitchen could barely be heard, Julia and Steven no doubt. You wished you could retreat through the doors and eat with them, their company would be much more welcome than Helen’s. She had finished her food already, but had always been adamant that everyone be finished before anyone left the table.

“Dear.” Her voice caused you to meet her gaze, which was hardened. “While I am pleased to have you back, I must ask why the sudden wish to return.” You knew this would come up eventually. You took a deep breath, thinking through your words carefully. “I needed a break from city life. I have hit a wall with my writing. Being here always gave me new and wonderful ideas. I thought it might help.” Your aunt gave you a curt nod, dabbing at her mouth with a napkin even though she hadn't eaten anything. “Well, if you're done, I'll retire to my room now.” The sliding of her chair filled the quiet room as she turned and made her way to the stairs.

The bed was comfortable as you fell onto it. You weren't particularly tired, but it felt nice to lay down. Steven’s words from earlier swirled through your head. He obviously knew something you didn't, but you also knew that trying to pry would get you nowhere. Out of habit, you turned to grab your phone, mentally cursing yourself when you remembered you had no service and you had forgotten to call your mother. Your attention was immediately diverted to the notebook sitting neatly by your phone, puzzling you.

You hadn't taken a notebook out of your bag, that you knew for certain. Your hand changed direction to reach for the notebook. Shuffling down under your blanket, you brought the book in front you, flipping through the pages. You stopped at a page that was dated just after your 9th birthday. 

The gardens here are so cool. There's so many of them. It'll take me weeks to go through them all.

You chuckled at the thoughts of your past self and flipped a few more pages. This entry was set a few days later.

I found a new garden! I was exploring around the old, gross part of the grounds and I looked through some vines and found it. Aunt Helen called me back before I could get a good look, but I'm gonna go back tomorrow. 

This gave you pause. You didn't remember ever exploring the old part of the grounds. Helen had always told you to stay away from that part of the estate, stating it was dangerous. Deciding to read the next entry, you quickly flipped to the next page.

The new garden is so pretty! It's already my favorite. It has some of every flower and it's huge. And there's a house in there! I didn't see anyone, but maybe tomorrow. 

This had to be some of your childhood stories. There was no way that there was another house on the property. With a sigh, you set the book back on the table and clicked your light off. Giving your pillow a fluff, you laid down and drifted into a dream. 

“Hongjoong that wasn't funny!” The young boy stood in front of you holding his belly and laughing. “You should have seen your face!” He flailed his arms around and made an exaggerated scared face while you pouted. “You shouldn't scare me like that. It's not nice.” One look at your face let him know that he had really messed up, you looked like you were about to cry. “I'm sorry Y/N. I didn't mean to make you sad. I never want to make you sad.” You perked up after his apology, telling him that it was ok and reaching for his hand. He took your hand in his and you both ran off into the garden. 

You awoke with a startle, a little disoriented. The dream was still fresh on your mind, and it left so many questions. Was that the garden you had written about in the notebook? Why did the dream seem so real? It had been like a distant memory. And who the fuck was Hongjoong? Your immediate reaction was to grab the notebook again and try to search for the name, but a knock on the bedroom door made you put that off. “Y/N dear, I’m going into town today and I would like for you to join me. Do hurry and get ready, please. I’d rather not have to wait much longer.”

The ride to town with Helen was silent, just as it always had been. Why she wanted you to join was beyond you, but you could use the time to go over your thoughts. Despite being confused,  you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of sadness at having woken up from your dream. The boy, Hongjoong it seemed, had already created a home in your mind. He seemed so familiar, like an old friend. But you were sure you had never met him. So, why was he invading your dreams? And why did you have such a vivid picture of this new garden? Was it something your mind had conjured on its own? It had to be. There had never been a garden in the dilapidated part of the grounds, and there certainly had never been another house. 

The abrupt stop of the car brought you out of your deep thoughts. Swiveling your head, you noticed that Helen had parked at the town market. It was a small building for a small town, nothing fancy, but it had all the essentials. The market was set in a shopping center of sorts, again just a small little gathering of buildings. There was a clothing store, a barbershop and the library all huddled around one parking lot. An idea sprung to the forefront of your mind. “Aunt Helen, I think I’d like to visit the library, if that’s ok. I could use a good book to read.” You aren’t entirely sure why you decided to lie to your aunt, something just told you that you probably shouldn’t tell her your actual plans. Helen heaved a heavy sigh from the driver’s seat. “I was hoping you would actually help me, but do as you wish, dear.” Turning your head and rolling your eyes, you stepped out of the car and made your way to the library doors.

The library was like any other library, you weren’t really sure why you expected anything else. Like everything in the town, it was small, but it seemed to be bigger than it looked from the outside. Rows of bookshelves spanned down each side of the building and behind the librarian’s desk. Stepping forward, you stopped at the desk where an older lady with thin glasses and a tight bun looked up at you. You held in a giggle at the stereotypical librarian look. “Good afternoon, how can I help you?” She had a friendly smile, a genuine smile rather than the customer service smile many people wore when they were working. “Good afternoon, ma’am. Does this library have newspaper archives?”

Surprisingly, the library had a basement. It was a bit drafty, letting the cool, spring air run through the room. It obviously wasn’t used much, boxes stacked up in one corner. The librarian led you to a single computer that sat on a desk in the very back of the basement. “Sorry that you have to come all the way down here for the archives.” She gave you a kind, somewhat sad smile. “Pretty much everything has transferred to tablets or whatever new fangled technology the kids are using these days. But the newspaper archives haven’t been switched over yet, they’re still on this computer, aside from much older ones that are still on floppy disks.” You gave her a nod of your head with a reassurance that this was fine. “What year are you looking for, sweetie?” It took a moment for you to answer. “I don’t know.”

The blinking cursor on the screen was a bit daunting. The kind librarian had been patient with you, letting you know that it was ok to not know a year and that a name could be used as well. All you had to do was type it into the search bar. If the name couldn't be found, always check the floppies. You didn't think you'd have to go back that far. Were you crazy? You didn't even have a full name. Just Hongjoong. There had to be more than just one Hongjoong, how would you know what you were looking for? Pushing the doubts aside, you typed in Hongjoong's name and pressed enter.

Unlike what you expected, only a couple of articles popped up. The headlines were vastly different from each other, and you were sure the two couldn't be related. After looking over the words for a moment, you chose to click on the first link.

Father takes son and runs.

Kim Jae-seok and Kim Hongjoong have been missing for 3 weeks at this point. While it was first suspected that the father and son had had an unfortunate accident, the running theory now is that Jae-seok has kidnapped his son and left his wife, Kim Eunbi. Mrs. Kim has adamantly argued against this theory, blaming a local woman for the disappearances, but there is no evidence at this time to substantiate her claims.

You stared at the screen with a baffled expression. At the bottom of the article there was a picture of a young boy and an older man, both wearing giant grins. The boy sat on the man’s shoulders, arms wrapped around the man’s forehead. The caption at the bottom of the picture gave the pair’s names. Kim Jae-seok and Kim Hongjoong. The article was dated around the time you would have been 9, and the boy looked to be around your age. He was also the Hongjoong from your dream.

It took you a few minutes to gather the gumption to click on the next article. After a few deep breaths, you moved the mouse, ready for what came next.

Mother of missing boy ostracized: grief or insanity?

2 years after the disappearance of her son and husband, Kim Eunbi has been shunned by the community. She has stuck to her initial claims that a local woman is responsible for the disappearances. Her claims that the owner of the large garden estate has her family hidden away have remained consistent throughout the investigation. Searches were done, but no trace of Kim Jae-seok and Kim Hongjoong were found. The woman is quoted saying “I feel for the poor woman, losing her family, but I certainly have nothing to do with her misfortune.” At this time, the case has been cold. It is still thought that Jae-seok had kidnapped their son.

As you read the words, your mind swirled. Mrs. Kim seemed to believe that Helen had something to do with the disappearances. But to your knowledge, Helen hadn't really spoken to anyone from town. Her visits were always quick, with as little interaction as possible. Looking at you watch let you know that you didn't have much time left before your aunt was done with her errands. On a whim, you erased Hongjoong's name from the search bar, typing in his mother's name instead.

The same articles popped up, only there was one thing added. An obituary. Your heart panged as you read it. She died without knowing what became of her husband and son. You quickly closed out of the tab, rushing back upstairs, thanking the librarian again on your way out. Helen was just getting back to her car as you stepped through the library doors.

You helped her put her groceries into her car, silent the entire time. You definitely had some things to think about. There was no way your hermit of an aunt could have anything to do with the case of the missing men. Mrs. Kim had to have had some sort of mental break due to her grief. Once the bags were neatly placed in the trunk, you took your place in the passenger seat once more.

“Where's your book, dear?” Helen was quick to notice that you came back from the library empty handed and you quickly came up with a believable excuse. “Nothing really interested me. I didn't want to keep you waiting.” That seemed to satisfy her, giving you a nod and a hum. Your thoughts drifted again. Sure Helen was rude, but she wasn't dangerous. Was she?

Steven came to help bring the groceries inside, Julia following soon after. With their blessing, you decided to tour another garden. Maybe that would help you clear your head. You started walking, not really having a particular garden in mind, stopping at the first one you came to. Camillas. Though the camilla garden was one of the smaller gardens, it was still large. 

Rather than hedges surrounding it, there was a tall fence, dark wood of course. Helen did have a theme after all. Despite your thoughts, you tried to pay attention to the beauty surrounding you. Once again, there were flowers of every color. How Helen managed to find so many colors baffled you, but you guessed that when you had that much money, things were more possible for you.  

At the center of the garden stood another statue. Every garden had one, or some sort of hedge animal, if you remembered correctly. This particular statue was of a man with a young boy peeking from behind the man's leg. The base of the statue had no plaque, but was surrounded by yellow camillas. The man's face was rather somber looking, which was odd for such a beautiful garden. 

Helen watched you from the window, a scowl on her face. You were hiding something and she could tell. She could always tell. Except when it came to her oaf of a gardener. She had never been able to get a good read on the man, despite years of experience and practice. She would have done away with Steven if she were able, but she knew the deal and she couldn't go against that. She didn't know what or how, but she knew something had to be done about your nosey tendencies.

You sat amongst the camillas until the sun began to set and a chill started biting at your skin. You still hadn't made sense of the information you had found in the library. Nothing made sense. You wanted to ask someone if they had heard of Hongjoong and his father, but Helen wasn't an option. You doubt Julia knew anything, which only left Steven. Even if he knew anything, you doubted he would say. He'd been working for your aunt for years, he had a loyalty to her.

“Hey mom. Sorry for not calling sooner. My phone has no service here and it kept slipping my mind.” Your mother’s voice was pleasant as she told you that it was ok. She was sure Helen would have called if you had never arrived. A thought passed through your mind and you considering asking your mother if she knew anything about the Kims. Your voice made the decision for you. “Mom, do you know anything about a missing boy and his father?” Silence. It felt like 5 minutes of silence before your mother spoke again. 

“Jae-seok was a friend of your father's. They had gone to school together and had been close ever since. Your dad had always joked about him becoming his brother in law one day.” Your mother left out a breathy chuckle and you kept your attention steady, wanting to know more. 

“When Jae-Seok met Eunbi, the jokes stopped. It was clear that the two of them were meant to be together. They had been so in love. It didn't take long for them to marry, your father was the best man. After Hongjoong was born, Helen gave Jae-Seok the job as her gardener. He made those gardens what they are.” 

You knew that Jae-Seok had been the gardener, but just how close he was to your family was new information. Your mother continued, giving you everything you knew.

“When Jae-Seok left with Hongjoong, both Eunbi and your father had been insistent that there was no way Jae-Seok would do that. He loved his life and he worshiped Eunbi and treated her like a queen. Your father searched for him as much as he could, but after a while he had to give up. The disappearances were the reason we moved. He just couldn't handle staying in a town with so many memories.”

You didn't know what to say. Your head was spinning a little. You had gotten so much information in such a short period of time. Despite all of the thinking you had done today, you still had more to do. You thanked your mother and talked a bit more before you said your goodbyes. Deciding that you weren't particularly hungry, you let Helen know that you would be skipping dinner. The woman looked far from pleased, but you paid her no mind. You were also unaware of the man standing not too far off with a smile on his face.

Laying on your bed, you felt exhausted. You hadn’t really done anything extensive, but your mind hadn't stopped running in circles since your trip to the library. You went through the facts one more time.

1. You had dreams and journal entries about a boy named Hongjoong. 

2. Your father knew the boy's father.

3. Your aunt had been accused of being involved. 

4. Hongjoong was missing.

Turning to your bedside table, you reached to grab the journal you had found the night before. You paused. There was another journal sitting on top. Where were these coming from? A knock on your door took your attention away from the journals. Giving a deep sigh, you prepared yourself to face Helen. 

Opening the door, you were a little surprised to find Steven. “Thought you should probably eat.” He extended his arm, a plate of the dinner Julia had made in his hand. You couldn't help but smile. Steven was a really nice guy. As you took the plate, you gathered enough courage to ask him a question. “Steven, do you remember me ever mentioning a boy named Hongjoong when I was a child?”

The man stiffed a little before relaxing, as if he was trying to hide his reaction. “I'm sure I can't say, Miss Y/N.” Not the answer you were expecting. Steven remembered everything. “It's getting to be a little past my bedtime. Gotta be up early. You should do some reading, Miss Y/N. Goodnight.”

His mentioning reading struck you as a little odd. He had seen you come back from town, he had to have known you hadn't brought a book back and there weren't any books in your room. Sure, he could have assumed you had brought some with you. That was the most logical explanation, but something was still bothering you.

Shrugging the odd conversation off, you took your food to your bed, planning to nibble on it as you read the journals. You chose the new one, flipping through the pages. Your browsing stop and a page that was dated when you would have been 13.

“Hongjoong and I read today, it was pretty relaxing. I like that I can have someone that doesn't feel the need to always fill the silence. Sometimes that's just what I need, to be in someone's presence but still enjoy the quiet. We did talk a little, though. He's such a great listener. He did get a little sad when I asked him to come look at the gardens with me tomorrow. He said something about not being able to leave. I'm not sure what he meant. I'll try again tomorrow.”

There was a large break in the page before a sentence placed at the very bottom.

“I'm gonna marry him one day.”

You almost closed the book immediately. Your 13 year old self was thinking of marrying her imaginary friend. It just seemed silly. You grabbed the other journal, finding a page before the last one you had read.

“I'm writing this in case I forget, the new garden can be hard to find. All you have to do is find the part of the fence with two missing boards. There's a few spots like that, but the one to the garden has vines all over it and an H carved into the board next to it.”

You finished your food, setting the plate and journal back on the table. Looks like you had some exploring to do tomorrow. 

“Don't do this, Y/N. Please. You know I can't come with you, please don't just stop coming. The look on Hongjoong's face broke your heart. He was your best friend, but you were starting to think this was all in your mind. Some imaginary world you had created in your mind. “Joong, I'm getting too old to play make believe with people who aren't there.” His face changed from sadness to anger. “You know damn well that I'm not an imaginary friend. You know what, go. Leave and don't come back. I'm fine here with my dad anyway.” You couldn't help the tear that fell from your eye as you watched him walk away.”

Waking up in a sweat was becoming normal. You groaned as you climbed out of bed to brush your teeth and change your clothes. Choosing to forego a shower, you'd be getting dirty today anyway, you picked out some jeans and an old shirt that you had turned into a night shirt. You sat and ate breakfast with Helen, choosing to ignore her comments about your outfit. She asked what your plans for the day were and you kept your cool, simply telling her you would be visiting the lilies today. She said nothing as she gathered her dirty dishes and took them to the kitchen.

Steven watched as you walked out of the door and headed to the old part of the estate. He couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him and the smile that came to his face. He watched your form disappear before he spoke. “Finally.”

The vines were far overgrown. Steven must not worry about this section because there was nothing here. You felt a little ridiculous. Looking around for some garden that probably didn't exist. After an hour of searching, you were ready to give up. You could barely see any of the fence, there was a slim chance you'd be able to find missing boards and a carving. Moving to turn around and head back, you saw a sliver of a missing board. Stepping over to it, you pulled the vines to the side. Two missing boards. You searched around the boards around the gap. On the left board, a small H. 

You took a deep breath, preparing yourself for the incoming feeling of feeling like a silly little girl. Crouching down, you stepped through the gap. It took a little bit of wiggling, but you made it to the other side. When you lifted your head, you were in awe. The most beautiful garden you had ever seen was before you. Gardenias. Gardenias everywhere.

You stood still for a moment, just taking in the beauty. The shock subsided a little and you took your first steps further into the new majestic place you had found. Your feet seemed to know where to go, weaving you through the bushes. You stopped when you came upon a house. Just like the house from your dreams. You studied the house for a few seconds. It wasn't run down at all. In fact, it looked like it had been well taken care of. You watched the door open and a man step out. He stood there looking at you for what felt like forever. A smile slowly creeped across his face. “You're back.”

Your mind went blank. Suddenly a rush of memories came back to you. Meeting Hongjoong for the first time when you were 9, daily visits to the garden, meeting his dad, kissing him when you were 14. Everything hit you like a wave. You took a small step forward, barely moving. “Hongjoong.” The two of you slowly made your way to each other, both of you a little cautious. Once you were right in front of each other, you took a moment to just take him in.

He was handsome, he had grown into one of the most handsome men you had ever seen, if not the most handsome. He tentatively brought his hand to your cheek as if he was worried you'd back away from him. His thumb made soft movements against your face, his eyes boring into yours. “I thought I'd never see you again. I've waited. Every day I come out and take care of the flowers I planted for you, hoping I'll see you walk up. I've missed you so much. I'm sorry for the last conversation we had.”

You felt tears forming and you did your best to blink them away. You leaned into his touch, relishing in his warmth. You had so many questions for him, but you couldn't bring yourself to ask yet. Your brain was screaming at you to touch him. You quickly reached for him, wrapping your arms around him in a hug. He took no time in hugging you back, squeezing a little tighter. “I'm sorry it took so long for me to come back.” Your words were spoken into his chest, coming out a bit muffled. He must have heard you because he responded immediately. “You're here now. That's all that matters.”

Hongjoong pulled you inside, asking you to tell him about the 10 years he had missed. You told him about your high school and college graduations, moving to the city, becoming a writer. His gaze never wavered from you, fully enthralled in what you had to say. Every now and then he would give your thigh a squeeze. Once you had filled him in on your life, you asked him the same. He could see you looking around the house, obviously wondering where his father was. He let his head fall forward a little.

“Dad died about 3 years ago, it's just me now.” Your heart sank. He had lost the only person he had. He had been completely alone for 3 years. Guilt ran through your body. As if he knew what you were thinking, he grabbed your hand. “Please don't feel guilty. You had a life to live and death is natural.” Your questions finally made their way back to the forefront of your mind. Taking a deep breath, you squeezed his hand. “Joong. Why can't you leave the garden?”

He was silent for a while, gathering his words. “Dad explained everything to me before he died. There was a woman who was in love with him. She had asked him to be with her multiple times, but he always turned her down. When he met my mom, things got bad. He was the gardener here and we lived on the property. In this house, actually.” He paused, taking a deep breath before he continued. 

“She continued to try to change Dad's mind even after he married Mom and I was born, but he still refused. Mom had left to go to town one day and Dad and I were playing in the garden, it was pansies then.” He gave a sad chuckle and met your eyes, gaging your reaction as he continued. 

“Your aunt came to the garden, looking for Dad. She started talking, but she wasn't making any sense. Next thing Dad knew, she was gone. He went looking for her, but when he got to the gate, he couldn't leave. The gate would open, but he couldn't step out. We were trapped.” You could feel the tears running down your face. You were filled with sadness, but also rage. How could Helen do this? Mrs. Kim had been right all along.

“The last thing Dad heard was your aunt telling him that he would stay here until he realized that they weren't meant to be. She said until true love was realized. She said we wouldn't be able to be found, especially by my mother. So, I'm stuck here. I don't even know anything about Mom.” The tears were falling harder now. You knew you had to tell him, but it was so hard.

“I found news articles about your disappearance. Your mother never stopped looking. She looked until she died.” Hongjoong looked broken. He had lost everyone, and he had lost you for years. Every bit of emotion you had ever had for Hongjoong had hit you full force. You had forgotten him, yes, but your heart had apparently not. You decided right then that even though you weren’t sure how, you’d figure out how to get him out of the garden.

You kept returning to see Hongjoong every day for weeks. You were sure that Helen was getting suspicious, but you did your best to keep her from figuring out where you were going. The two of you talked like old times, sometimes even playing tag and hide and seek like you had when you were kids. Hongjoong still had the books the two of you would read all those years ago, and it became a routine of reading together. You had even taken trips to the library to bring him new books to read, which he was immensely grateful for. 

After a month of daily visits, you were sure that you were in love with Hongjoong. You suspected that some part of you always had been, but you were old enough to understand the things you were feeling. You wanted to tell him, but you were nervous. You knew that he would never treat you badly for telling him that you had fallen in love with him, but the fear was still there. The sight of his house made you forget about your worry immediately. He was standing outside, just like he always was. His back was turned to you while he was bent down watering the gardenias that bloomed around the house. With a smirk, you quietly walked up behind him and wrapped your arms around his waist. He jumped with a small shriek and turned to face you with a pout. 

“That wasn’t funny. You scared the hell out of me.” You couldn’t help but laugh, remembering how you had said those words to him so many years ago. “Consider that payback for scaring me when we were 9.” The pout disappeared from his face and was replaced with the bright smile you loved to see him wear. Looking at him now, you were definitely in love with him. Without giving it a second thought, you pushed forward, lips meeting his. 

It took him a moment to react, obviously surprised. As soon as he realized what was happening, his lips started to move against yours. Your heart was soaring, you were absolutely sure that you could kiss him every second of the day and never get tired of the feeling. One of his arms wrapped around your middle, pulling you closer, the other making it up to your cheek. Time seemed to stop as the two of you kissed until you had to separate for air. The two of you stared at each other, just taking everything in. “I love you, Joong.” 

Your eyes widened as you heard your own voice. That was definitely not planned. You dropped your gaze, feeling a bit embarrassed. Hongjoong’s fingers found your chin, tilting your face up. “Do you know what gardenias mean?” The question caused you a little confusion, but you shook your head. “Gardenias mean secret love. I planted these because it was my way of telling you that I loved you.  I’ve been in love with you since I was 15. I didn’t realize it until after you left. At first I thought it was just that I missed the only friend I had ever had, but that wasn’t it.” You smiled at him softly, letting him speak until he had said all he needed to say. “I knew it wasn’t that when I would go to the gate every day and just read and wait. I would hear voices on the other side every now and then and I always hoped that it was you. I stopped caring about whether or not I would ever leave the garden, as long as I had you here with me.” He ended his thoughts with a peck to your forehead. 

The tears came again, damn him for being so sweet. “Hongjoong? Will you make love to me?” He took a step back from you and you were sure that you had fucked up. He lowered his head to hide the blush that decorated his cheeks. “I don’t know how.” His voice was only a whisper, and you mentally kicked yourself for not thinking about that. “It’s ok. I’m sorry. We don’t have t-” Your voice was cut short as he stepped forward to grab your hand. “But I want to. Is that ok?” 

Hongjoong laid you onto his bed with shaking hands. Your lips had been pushed against each other since he had told you that he wanted to make love to you. Your heart was so full. You could tell he was nervous. “Joong. Take as long as you need. We don't have to do this now.” Your reassurance seemed to relax the man. “I want to do this now. I'm just nervous.” He gave an embarrassed chuckle and rubbed the back of his neck. 

You reached down, rubbing him over his pants. His hips bucked into your hand and he let out a sigh at the contact. He buried his face in your neck, leaving small kisses along your skin. One of his hands slid up your body to your breast, giving it a cautious squeeze. You let out a small moan, letting him know he was doing the right thing. 

The sound seemed to relieve him of some of his nervousness, causing him to nibble on your neck and slide his hand further down your body, stopping over your clothed core. Due to the dress you were wearing, he was able to feel your damp panties, moaning at the feeling. “So wet.” His lips were back on yours immediately. His movements weren't completely on target, but you let him experiment until he found what made you moan the loudest. 

He leaned back, slipping his pants off, leaving him only in his boxers. Looking over him, you could tell that he had made them himself. You could also tell that he was very well endowed. Hongjoong moved to hover over you, resting on his arm beside your head. An idea popped in your head and you hoped it would help with his nerves.

You pulled back from his lips just long enough to speak. “Thrust your hips forward. We can start over our clothes.” His face relaxed a bit as he thrust into your core. His cock hit your clit on the first try and you moaned as your lips found his again. Hongjoong kept a slow pace and you assumed it was an attempt to not cum early. You would have been fine if he had, just having him like this at all was enough. 

He was obviously a natural, hitting the right spot every time he moved his hips. Your hands found their place on his back, nails digging in slightly. He groaned into the kiss and you made a note to push a little further next time. His breathing began to quicken. He pulled back from your body, a little flush on his cheeks. “I don't want to cum yet and I was getting close.” 

You let him know that it was ok if he came, but he shook his head. “You first. You just may have to help me.” You pecked his lips with a nod. Grabbing his hand, you slipped it under the hem of your panties, placing it directly on your clit. “Rub in slow circles, only a little bit of pressure.” He immediately got to work and again, he was a natural. 

His lips found yours yet again, his tongue rubbing at the seam of your lips. Giving him entry to your mouth, your tongues tangled in a perfect dance. You let him lead the kiss, knowing he would do it right. His playing with your clit felt good, but you needed a little more. You pulled away again to give a few more instructions. “Keep your thumb on my clit and slide your fingers down. I need you to finger me.” The circles on your clit stopped for barely a second before he moved into action.

Sliding his index and middle fingers down your pussy to your entrance, he groaned. He suddenly stopped, eyes meeting yours. “Can I see you? All of you?” You gave him a soft smile and a nod reaching to take your dress off. He grabbed the edges of your panties and slide them down your legs. And then he stared. Just stared.

You started to get a little self conscious, squirming. “Beautiful.” His voice was barely audible, but it made your heart flutter. He admired you a little longer before he moved his hand back into position. This thumb found your clit as if he had been doing this for years. His fingers circled your entrance and he smirked at the whine you let out as your hips bucked into his hand. 

He leaned down to kiss you as he slipped his index finger inside of you. You moaned against his lips, wrapping your arms back around him. Just like with his thrusts earlier, he kept his pace slow. After a few slides of his finger, his middle finger joined his index. The feeling of being slightly more full than only a second ago had your head spinning. You were about to pull away to tell him to curl his fingers when he did that on his own. Your nails dug into his back again, causing him to pick up his pace.

You were getting close and you couldn't tell if it was because he was a quick learner, or if it was just him. You didn't care. Hongjoong whined as you began to squeeze his fingers, picking up his pace again. He was the one to pull away this time, moving his face back to your neck. His lips found your ear, biting your lobe slightly. “Cum for me, my love.” And that was all it took for you to cum around his fingers.

He kept his pace until you were pushing his arm away. “Sensitive.” He pulled his hand away from you, looking at your wetness on his fingers. He looked like he was thinking about something, then slowly lifted his hand to his mouth, pushing his fingers into his mouth. The moan he let out was obscene and it made you clench around nothing. You were still a bit winded when you reached for his boxers, letting him know you wanted them off.

He was big, but not too big. His cock was perfect. He positioned himself over you again, giving you another small peck to your lips. He reached down to wrap his hand around his member, placing it at your entrance. He looked up at you. “Ready?” You gave him a nod and he pushed into you slowly, causing you both to moan in unison. Once he was fully seated inside of you, he paused, letting himself get used to the feeling. 

You rubbed his back, trying to help him relax. After a few moments, he pulled his hips back, leaving only the tip of his cock inside of you before he pushed himself back in. He sped up a little, relishing in the feeling of your walls wrapped tightly around him. You could tell by the look on his face that he wouldn't last much longer, and all you wanted was to see him cum. To fill you completely. “It's ok, baby. Cum whenever you're ready. Don't hold back.” 

He sped his hips again, his moans getting louder. His thrusts were getting sloppy and you dug your nails into his back. “I love you, Hongjoong.” He shivered and let out the loudest moan yet as his hips stopped and his seed began to fill you. “I love you. I love you so much.” His words were shaky, but full of emotion. Once he calmed down, he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Thank you for coming back to me.”

It took two months for your aunt to finally say something to you about the garden. You had woken up, brushed your teeth and changed, and had breakfast before you walked out to go see Hongjoong. This had become such a routine that you could do it without thought. Just as you were approaching the missing boards, a voice came from behind you. “And just where are you going, dear niece?” Your body stiffened as you turned to face her. 

Her face was full of rage. You stood your ground, she had hurt so many people already. You wouldn't let her hurt anyone else. “I'm going to the garden you trapped two innocent people in.” Her face twisted into absolute hatred. “You ungrateful brat. I let you into my home and you disrespect me. How dare you?” It was your turn to feel rage.

“How dare I? How dare YOU? You couldn't accept that you weren't wanted and you cursed an entire family. You took a son and husband away from a woman who did nothing but love a man. You're disgusting.” 

You turned your back to Helen, intent on continuing your trek to see Hongjoong. Your aunt took the opportunity to grab your arm and pull you back towards her. “You will not go back there. I forbid it. If you continue to disobey you can go back to your life in the city.” You tried to pull your arm back, but Helen was stronger than she looked. “Let go of me you wretched woman!”

Hongjoong heard you yell from the garden and his feet moved faster than his brain. He ran to the garden gate, pulling on it, not even thinking twice when it opened for the first time in his life. When he stepped onto the other side, he noticed you with an older woman's hand wrapped around your arm. He saw red. He ran forward, wrapping his arms around the older woman and doing his best to pull her off of you. He managed to get her away, but she quickly broke free from his grip.

“Helen, that is enough!” Steven's voice drew everyone's attention. He was standing a few feet away, Julia by his side. He held a large book in his hand, which he handed to Julia. “This has gone on for too long, it's time to let it go. The boy has done nothing to you.” Helen made eye contact with Julia, noticing the book she held tight to her chest. 

“Yes, I found your book, not that you really hid it.” Steven's voice brought her attention back to him. “You. I don't know how you did it, but this reeks of your doing.” Her words were filled with venom, but Steven looked unbothered. He straightened his back, standing tall and proud.

“You may have forced me into silence about this situation, but I'm a crafty man. You never noticed Miss Y/N's notebooks, but I did.” Everything clicked into place. The sudden appearance of the notebooks, Steven's cryptic words. Everything made sense now.

Hongjoong stepped next to you, both of you still not realizing he had left the garden. His hand reached for yours, intertwining your fingers. You both focused on Steven, waiting for his next words.

“For years I have been forced into this sham of a marriage, into silence about how awful you are. And now it's over. The boy has made it out of the garden, Helen. True love has been realized. Your curse is broken.” 

Everyone seemed to realize that Hongjoong was free at the same time. Heads whipped to face him. Helen’s expression full of anger, yours of awe, and Hongjoong's of confusion. You wrapped your arms around him immediately, bringing him into a hug. It took him a moment to catch up to your enthusiasm, but it wasn't long before he held you tight against him.

“Now, if Miss Julia will help me, we have something planned for you. See, you're not the only one that read this little magic book of yours. We've waited for the day the boy could leave the garden. Now, he's made that garden into a home and I see no reason to take that from him. But a little garden of your own seems appropriate.”

With that, Julia began to read from the book. Her words were quick, not giving Helen enough time to make it to her to stop her. In a flash, Helen was gone. You looked at Julia, confused. You had thought that Helen's new home would appear in front of you. “I never said the garden would be here” 

It didn't take much consideration to decide to stay with Hongjoong in the house he grew up in. The garden was covered in the flowers that he planted for you. It was where your love story began, and it would be where your love story would end. 

Steven reported Helen missing and as her legal husband, that you still didn't understand, he got ownership of the estate. He had tried to give it to you, but you refused. You didn't need the big house, you just needed Hongjoong. 

You received a call from your publisher, letting you know the good news. The draft of your novel had been approved. “You still haven't told me the name of this book, my love.” You smiled at your husband, giving him a sweet kiss. Leaning to place your lips next to his ear, you whispered lowly. “The Secret Garden.”

[cr4yolaas]

blue spring — teach me!

prev: prologue | masterlist | next: monkey tie at the exhibit

he's sitting across from her on the floor, the fluff of the carpet sticking to his bare legs. she hasn't spoken a word to him since she welcomed him into her bedroom, and already, he fears he's done something wrong.

slowly, she scrolls up and down on her laptop, the screen illuminating each curvature on her face. he watches as she thumbs the enter button aggressively, her brows furrowed and the corner of her bottom lip captured between her teeth. "what concepts are you struggling with?" she questions absentmindedly, her attention still directed towards her computer.

he details each topic, some dating as far back as the first semester. the sigh that escapes her lips makes him subconscious. he bites the inside of his cheek to compose himself.

she nods along, an attempt to prove that she is, in fact, listening to him. her eyes scan the screen rapidly, and when he finishes his ramblings, she closes her laptop a little too quickly. a quiet curse slips out from under her breath.

"how do you best learn?" she asks him, and this time, her eyes are locked with his.

"um... visually? like, through examples?"

again, she nods, and signals for him to open his notebook.

and then it begins.

he's observant, his attention on each step and diagram she crafts for him. her handwriting is horribly neater than his. he can't stop focusing on how fast she's writing, but regardless, he does his best to follow.

she pauses for a moment, her pen lifting off of the page. her head tilts towards his, and he can feel her gaze on his skin. "am i going too fast? you can tell me to slow down."

"yeah, please."

and so, she lowers her pace. his notes are becoming clearer, and slowly, he's beginning to understand. her voice becomes softer, and softer, and softer, until it's just barely a whisper against his cheek. kageyama doesn't realize how close they are, with their backs hunched over their notebooks, until a wisp of her hair brushes against his face. suddenly, he can't focus.

he nearly jumps at the way she drops her pen to her side before leaning back against her arms. "that's enough for today," she muses, and he can only nod in agreement. her notebook comes to a close, and he follows suit. silently, he packs his bag, his eyes glancing around her room as he does so. there are clothes strewn beneath her bed, and countless papers splayed across her desk. a canvas sits in the corner, neither blank nor full -- all that she's painted is a bland, gray background. he chooses not to question it.

she doesn't send him off, only sparing him a gentle farewell before he leaves. yachi hands him a bag of cookies with a smile. the other two won't stop looking at him.

when he finally leaves the apartment, kageyama unleashes a heavy breath.

𝜗𝜚 when kageyama came home he was pacing around with the cookies still in his hands

𝜗𝜚 the jacket kageyama left at yn's place was from his senior year at karasuno

𝜗𝜚 yn was actually so out of it for most of the session. her brain was on autopilot cuz she doesn't normally have guests over unless its forced upon her by her friends

𝜗𝜚 kageyama lowk thought she was weird as fuck for having a random gray canvas in her room but he's too blinded by his love for mysterious nonchalant and offputting people

𝜗𝜚 tsukki and yams were semi-cuddling semi-arguing on the couch before kags came out so they judged him in silence. poor guy did a walk of shame out of the house

[writingquestionsanswered]

Am I a bad writer if I'm unable to do proper research because it's a very mentally taxing task for me to do? All of my stories require at least some research to do. Before you suggest simplyinging them or dumbing them down, do note I'm rather stubborn about the direction my stories take. As long as they aren't horribly offensive, I want my stories to go down very specific paths I have in mind for them.

Writer Won't Do Required Research

It depends on who you're writing for. If you're writing for yourself or a small group of friends, if they don't care about the accuracy of what you're writing, I don't suppose it matters much.

However, if you're writing to share with a broader audience, it's your responsibility to make sure the elements of your story are portrayed factually, authentically, and accurately so as not to cause harm by misinforming the reader.

How would you know if something's horribly offensive or not if you won't take the time to learn about them?

You're not unique in being daunted by research. Many writers are, but it isn't an excuse to skip the research and write whatever you want. If you're not willing to find ways to get the research done, and are not willing to augment your stories to avoid the elements requiring research, I'm not really sure what to tell you, but I'm sure your readers will have plenty to say, especially if they can tell you didn't do your research and if your lack of research leads to things that are offensive or harmful. It's up to you whether or not you're okay with the fallout.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

I’ve been writing seriously for over 30 years and love to share what I’ve learned. Have a writing question? My inbox is always open!

♦ Questions that violate my ask policies will be deleted! ♦ Please see my master list of top posts before asking ♦ Learn more about WQA here

[kerubimcrepin]

Liveblog: Wakfu Season 1 (episodes 21-26)

Episode 21 - Igol

This is a big episode because this is where we get the "Adamai knows stasis magic" lore drop that is never elaborated on, or mentioned altogether.

Episode 22 - Rubilax

Someday, someone will complete a translation of the Dofus manga in russian or english and I'll finally learn what's the deal with this man and why he died and got better and how crazy his doomed yaoi with his dead dragon husband gets.

Heartbreakingly, this day is not yet here.

[Kerubim and Goultard crying together over a drink, begin talking at the same time] I miss my dead wife, Goulatrd/Kerubim. I miss her/him a lot.

Big lore: Sleep masks exist in this universe.

Episode 23 - The Quest for the Dofus

He'll get it eventually. I did.

Episode 24 - Reunion

I love their family so much, I wish they could be happy. But every time something changes, it's far too late... It is tragically realistic, I suppose.

I don't know why, but this is such a pretty frame... The soft morning light, the dim room, the plants the glowing mushrooms...

Also, rare moment to take in what the guest rooms look like at the Sadida castle!

This episode (and at least one past episode) has quite a bit of ciphered text that I haven't been translating because I'm evil. Sorry. It's not the same script as the texts in Aux Tresors, despite the similarities, so you'll have to resort to google, or to decoding it yourself. You could start with the fact that this presumably says "Arbe de vie"

Episode 25 - I Am A Legend

Stasis mention 🔥🔥🔥

This whole scene always makes me tear up. I am actually insane and crazed every time I rewatch the last two episodes.

Your insane Joris trivia of the day is that this scene was changed between various airings/versions of Wakfu. For some mysterious reason. Here's a comparison:

I prefer the old version because.... [blushes] [kicks legs] [twiddles with my hair] HES SO PRETTY—- But also besides me being insane and in love with him, it just seems to have better composition and flow, imo.

My theories for why he was late:

He was sent to get reinforcements from other countries, or call for help. Though it is unlikely that many other kingdoms responded, given how little people care about Sadida (the most likely, normal, and realistic explanation)

He went together with the army of Sadida and the king to fight the war and ran all the way here using his insane speed (the second most likely, normal, and realistic explanation)

He overslept

He got lost

He was busy, man...

He was writing a letter to Keke and Atch about how he beat the shit out of some sadida guards and two girls clapped and cheered and lost track of time.

This exchange has always been so funny to me for some reason.

"What is the situation" He says,, while a giant mecha is about to kill what likely amounts to one-twelfth of the world's population.

I have talked about it a lot, but I am so deeply unwell about how cold he is. A girl lost her lover and is crying inconsolably, and he's not really paying that attention. One twelfth of the world population is about to die, and he won't show an ounce of discomfort or horror or grief.

Obviously he doesn't like it, but showing any weakness is out of the question.

More people have died from Ogrest, and she's like, the 60th girl on a battlefield on his memory to be crying after losing someone.

There are no unsolvable issues in this world.

I need to study him like a bug.

Episode 26 - Mount Zinit

Standing so prettily...

I think one of Joris's core "insanity and depression prevention" life philosophies is that, if he is not present at a battle, and can not physically be present, then he's not to blame for any horrible thing that happens.

I think this philosophy works almost never to quell his feelings of unease, and right now he is calculating 132924 ways he could have gotten here faster and just how much it would fix things.

(guy who runs a blog about pointing out obvious things Joris does voice) There's a very subtle expression change here. He starts looking intently as Amalia proposes going to help Yugo and Adamai. He was going to do this. However, the second he hears her yell "no", his expression changes once more.

We don't see whether he rushes to aid Eva in any way after she collapses from grief, but I will be honest — he would never do that.

Even if he has a pre-established good relationship with her. He just can't do that. He probably stands there awkwardly, in that same exact place, and feels very bad the entire time — because he can neither comfort Eva (they're practically strangers, he hesitated far too long, he'll make things worse—), nor go help Yugo (he can't just leave Eva and Ruel alone... What if more enemies appear? Or what if they think he abandoned them amidst grief? And would he even be useful?)

I think standing next to inconsolable people is Joris's personal hell.

I am insane.

I think one of the reasons Wakfu season 1 is so memorable, and so effective, is that there is no glorious pay off.

Yugo has a heroic moment of friendship overpowering everything — and then, after a second of being scared, Nox overtakes him. Nox wins. And that win is a mere 20 minutes. And for what? Pinpin is still dead. Everyone he killed is still dead.

Yugo doesn't get a glorious win, or his friend back. There is no epic swell of music. Just something quiet, foreboding, and truly meaningless.

OMG HI.

Your daily reminder that canonically, Eva is an amazing artist.

💀

Once again, Sadida Kingdom and Bonta have a very good relationship. Besties who hoard magical nukes together stay together.

[daydreamer-in-reverie]

I think one of my biggest gripes about S3 of Bridgerton is that I am utterly unconvinced that Colin and Penelope started as friends.

Now hear me out. I believe that Eloise and Penelope are friends. I believe that they grew up together, having lived across each other. I believe that Eloise loved Pen so much, Penelope was always welcomed to the Bridgerton home. I believe that by virtue of Eloise loving Pen and having her as a best friend, the Bridgerton family loved Pen as an extension.

But I’m unconvinced that Colin ever saw Pen or loved her as more than his sister’s best friend.

They tried so hard to convince us that it was Colin and Penelope who met first and that theirs is a stronger bond than what Eloise and Pen have by virtue of this but I just remain skeptical. In S1 and S2, we never really see them interact without the intervention of a ball or a social gathering. Eloise and Penelope actively seek the other person out while it was only Pen who looked for Colin and never the other way around. Colin only ever stumbled upon Penelope. He never scanned the room the find her, never tried to pull her away from Eloise so they could have their own conversation. I always felt like Penelope was such an afterthought to Colin while Penelope always made space for Colin in his life. Even while Colin was writing letters to Pen, and it was only Pen who consistently read and replied to his missives, it felt so one-sided. Penelope was eager to know of Colin’s adventures but Colin never asks Penelope about her own life and hobbies.

In all honesty, I think this could have easily been remedied by a good flashback. In Bridgerton S1, S2 and even in Queen Charlotte, flashbacks were the mediums used to fill in the gaps of the story. To inform the readers of a character’s history, and why the choose to do the things they do.

In a single episode, we saw how horribly Simon was mistreated by his father. In a single episode, we saw how deeply Edmund’s death wrecked Anthony’s boyhood and broke his mother’s heart. These flashbacks told us why Simon refused to procreate or why Anthony didn’t want to marry for love. We saw how deeply these core memories hooked themselves into these characters psyches, forcing them to become the people we know today. Without these integral flashbacks, we’re left with words said in passing to convince us of the story they’re trying to sell.

And don’t tell me flashbacks in the Bridgerton-verse are unimportant. Flashbacks have always been Julia Quinn’s method of choice when trying to inform readers of a character’s decisions. In Book 1 and 2, we got the same flashbacks as S1 and S2. In Benedict’s book, we got Sophie’s flashbacks. How her father treated her and how much her life changed after he died. In Book 4, which is Polin’s book, we still got flashbacks on Pen and Colin’s relationship and how much their friendship actually meant to the other. Book 5 showed us Philip’s backstory while 6 showed Michael’s and Francesca’s and John’s friendship, and 7 showed Garett’s and 8 showed Lucy.. While these flashbacks maybe used to showcase the love-interest’s past, they were still utilized by Julia Quinn to give us insights on the characterizations that make up their respective relationships.

I feel like this season, while having its moments, wasn’t what I was hoping it would be. There were so many changes that I feel the original plot of the story got lost. Polin didn’t feel like the main couple, just a couple with a story to be told. There were so many plots told in such extended ways that the main event was sidelined. The Mondriches, Benedict (who by the way is my favorite character), Francesca were all put on spotlight more than Polin was. In the books Francesca barely gets a passing mention of her marriage until her actual book (an act I believe to be intentional on Quinn’s part. It fits that the black sheep of the family who prefers the quiet didn’t have all of the fanfare that came with marrying an earl) yet her time at the marriage mart was put as a spotlight. In fact, when Francesca and John marry, it doesn’t happen with the series and happens much in the same way as Prudence’s marriage is (by this I mean it happens off screen). Don’t even get me started on her character assassination and deviation from the books (I can write a whole essay on this without even mentioning Michael/Michaela). All of these plot points, were put as main focuses when they shouldn’t have been. A waste of Polin’s amazing love story, if you ask me.

[niya-writesshit]

asshole

patrick zweig x fem!reader

TW: mentions of smut, infidelity, swearing, little white rat man being toxic af

word count: 209

¡! ❞ a/n: i am actually just unable to write anything good rn i think... BUT i will get to all of the art requests hopefully today 🙏🙏

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thinking about how patrick is such a horrible boyfriend. you'll get into the slightest argument and he'll equates it to permission to sleep around with whomever he wants.

and then when you find out and he realises that he's not gonna get pussy any better than you, he comes running back, grovelling at your feet and begging for forgiveness.

“i dunno what got into me, baby. i love you, y'know that," he implores, and he grabs your hands in his own to kiss your knuckles in an attempt to distract you from the fact he had slept with 2 of your friends.

you let him kiss you, let him spoil you as much as he can — with mediocre apologies but amazing, amazing makeup sex.

"you're such an asshole, pat."

“i know, i know, baby,” he mutters against your skin. “i know— I’m sorry. i really am,” he says into the crook of your neck, his breath fanning against your bare shoulder. he hated having to kiss up to you like this — in his mind, you were on a break. but he did love you, even if it didn't really show, so he continues to trail your skin with sloppy kiss and murmur affections.

"i'm your asshole though, eh?"

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¡! ❞ © niya-writesshit 2024

[hamliet]

Genderbending Sophie

tldr hamliet watches Bridgerton for the vibes and the fandom dissolves into shambles and now I'm mad at the horrible things people are saying with their full chest (on both sides, but definitely one more than the other) so I'm going to write about it.

I actually have some criticisms of the Michael/Michaela change. And not all criticism of this is homophobic in nature. My main one is that Michael's personality is going to be extremely hard to make work as Michaela in the established world of Bridgerton, what with its misogyny as kinda a major plot point in every single female character’s storyline so far. Michael’s “merry rake” personality makes him the character I personally saw as least fitting for a gender switch.

That said, I am interested to see what they do with this switch—maybe Michaela will be a “fallen woman” or something of the sort. And while I am sad about losing the infertility plotline, I do think there are other ways to incorporate it. Yet it is a new story, so fans who are disappointed are allowed to express that.

But I’ve long been a proponent of genderbending Sophie, or at least having gender-nonconforming Sophie, both of which seem entirely possible. Benedict’s story works so well with queer subtext—the fact that to be with Sophie, he has to literally choose to leave society in other to be with her and retreats to the country so they can live happily because society will never accept them, and he chooses not to need that acceptance—all of this works really well with a gay love interest. And a gay Cinderella story would be a fun twist.

Yes, in the novel Sophie's role as an illegitimate child and servant girl does play a significant role, but I don't think it plays a role we don't already see in the series. The main issue of Sophie's societal rejection is class, not her gender (though that exacerbates it). Being queer would also potentially exacerbate this, albeit in a different way.

It's also worth noting that lesbian relationships were never explicitly illegal in England. Male homosexuality, however, was very much illegal. Sorry, but I can definitely see this being an interesting aspect to explore. A lot of plot points for Sophie's story easily adapt to this storyline with subtext that works even in today's world (being attacked by strong men who see a weak opponent? being arrested for grasping at happiness when you can find it?), forcing the world of Bridgerton to confront this head on in a way that echoes through the misogyny text of literally every other Bridgerton story.

And that said, I do think it's valid for people to want female!Sophie and to be disappointed if she is genderbent without being homophobic. Because it would be a different story. (I for one really don't want them to give Eloise a female love interest.) But...

The sheer vitriol, the silencing of any opinion that disagrees, the TERF talking points about how ciswomen's perspectives are being erased? Girl, get outta here with that. There are literally SO many ciswomen characters on this show whose struggles with how their genders are perceived have been explored and will be.

Daphne, whose gender-induced ignorance about sex leads to her committing assault (not that the show handled this remotely well). Mary Sharma, who had to flee society after marrying a poor man. Edwina, who is only accepted by her grandparents if she marries well. Kate, who pursues happiness for her sister at the expense of herself, because she is already a class outsider. Violet, who begs Antony to tell the doctor to listen to her when he's told to choose mother or child to save in childbirth. Penelope, who struggles with balancing her passion with her prospects for the future. Prudence and Philippa, whose wellbeings reside in their abilities to bear sons. Portia, who schemes to scam the ton in order to save her daughters and herself. Cressida, whose own internalized misogyny and helplessness leads to her inflicting it on others. Eloise, who is resentful of having no options. Francesca and Michaela's stories will certainly address this. Marina, who had to marry someone she doesn't love. If we get them, Lucy, Hermione, and Hyacinth's stories will also tie into this.

So don't you dare say that ciswomen and their struggles are being erased.

And that's really something that's bothering me--that people who have genuine questions or disappointments about any gender swapping are lumped in with the loud, screaming mobs that are thinly veiling their homophobia (and in this case racism). Many of them are being respectful and don't deserve to be accused of something so serious.

Yet the reason for others being extremely kneejerk defensive is a because most of the talking points I've seen are TERF-related or homophobic, as in they only want to see suffering for gay people and can't fathom them having a happy ending in Regency England. When while there are challenges, they absolutely can, especially in a world as haphazard and vibey and escapist as Bridgerton's. Like if you're watching for deep plot and themes I don't know what to tell you.

Also, the books will always exist. If you love Michael or Sophie (if they change her story), the book is still there for you to love. They're not erasing it and saying you can never prefer it or read it again. And you can be disappointed and express that in a way that isn't God-awful.

Lastly, the way people talk about the queer showrunner (who is a ciswoman herself) is kind of horrifying. She's writing "self insert fanfic," she should "know her place," she's ruining everything--y'all sound like The Fandom Menace. Maybe consider not insulting a queer woman in a way that implies she's overstepping, and keep it to the plot changes and workability thereof? And again, you can have criticisms of how she ran the show--I have writing issues with season 3 (and 1 actually)--but why do you need to make it a personal attack on her as a human being?

Anyway, popular franchise has toxic fanbase, and water is wet.

[potteraep]

HIIII I love your Regulus Black Content! Could you please do a talk x listens for him? I am a huge talker and it's very common for people to call me annoying so do what you can with info! You don't have to either I just really love your content and the way you write!

Pleasing whispers ౨ৎ R.B

౨ৎ-Regulus black x GN!reader

౨ৎ- fluff pure tooth rotting fluff

౨ৎ-hii im happy to hear you like my writing I honestly thought I was doing horrible and it’s good you enjoy it!

ps: it’s been so long since this was requested and I deeply apologize it took so long but I hope you find some comfort in this

౨ৎ -the warm air through out slytherian house brushed past as you as your Steps echoed thru the stairs of the common room leading toward the chambers of each student

you steadied yourself along the steps before reaching a room a specific room and knocking softly in a friendly knock rhythm

regulus had missed classes due to having a cough, thought it wasn’t a problem to him but madame pomfrey at the hospital wing asked him to stay in bed to not get any worse it annoyed him a bit but he had the excuse to have you come to his dorm and give him answers so at heart he got over it real quick

the door opened to reveal a smiling regulus who turned to the side slightly to let you in his dorm he slyly kissed your cheek as you walked past

“hi amore” he said trailing behind you while you sat on the side of his bed and him next to you

“hi reg” you said quickly before continuing “ we should finish the work first and then we can just do whatever” you spoke out before grabbing your books while regulus nodded and grabbed his books as well

You were an excellent teacher perhaps your talent for explanation made it so easy for him or maybe it was the fact that regulus knew you would be proud of him ( and maybe yourself as well) to know he was still passing easy even after missing a week of classes

Before he knew it you had finished the work and had the books laided messily on the floor near his bed you had switched from sitting and explaining work to pacing thru his room explaining a book you had recently read

regulus looked up at you from his book while he laid on his bed one hand on his chin the other comfortably on the bed as he looked up at you humming every few minutes to show he was listening

you stood pacing in front of him one hand on the book tapping it softly while your other hand made gestures trying to explain scenes better

“ and while three of them where facing the enemy one of them had been on the roof making sure the guards didn’t inferfeir but they found out the enemy gang had paid the guards right?” You explained

“mhm” regulus mumbled still looking up at you although he was paying attention he was a tiney bit more enchanted by how you looked so excited to explain everything how your hands had made gestures and how your eyebrows furrowed trying to find the right words

regulus had found that your voice represented a scene more then a picture could. How hearing how you explained things made pictures in mind explain scenes better then he could by himself

he had been caught out of trance when you had said something that interested him enough to ask about it

“ wait so he threatened the other guy by saying he had two of his guards outside his girlfriends apartment?But he didn’t actually have anything and just had found out about the guys secret girlfriend and wanted to scare him?” He asked intrigued by how that had played out

you smiled “ mhm! He’s pretty smart yknow always gets himself out of situations like that and he his friends all left without a loss that day “ you said excited ready to explain the next scene

“ can I explain the next scene now? it gets better” you said with a small smile while you opened the book softly and Skimmed thru the pages

“of course Cherie” he said softly looking at you adoringly.

you could read any chapter anytime and he’d be more in love with every sweet word that left your mouth

[chateaaa]

☆ What dating the blue lock characters feels like (pt 2)

Dating Sae Itoshi includes matching earrings, having your initial dangling in his dominant leg (so every time he scores he dedicates the goals to you), having you in the back of his phone, being mean to everyone but you, buying you everything you want, giving you his password to all his socials, buying you flowers every week, slow dancing in the rain, watching hello kitty with you, kissing you on the back of your hand <3

Dating Shidou Ryusui includes bear hugs!!, slapping your ass every time he gets a chance, biting you randomly, love hate relationship, "shut up" x "make me", would try to be romantic (it does not work), would always expect you watching his games, looking at you in the crowd if he scores a goal, making boys near you cry because he dosnt want them to steal you away from him

Dating Otoya Eita includes kissing you on the neck, painting each other's nails in the color of black, wearing a pink scrunchie you gave him as a joke he now won't remove it from his arm, giving you his hoodie, acts of service, only wearing this specific perfume when you guys meet, pocky game (he would purposely lose)

Dating Tabito Karasu includes flirting with you in front of your friends, matching lego heart keychain, giving you cute random things and saying "my chick number 7 gave this to me, i don't need it so you can have it" that's a lie, he spended 3 days deciding what to give you, carrying you like a sack around, matching sneakers

Dating Alexis Ness includes worshipping you like a goddess, loving every single part of you, carrying an extra ponytail for you, buying you snacks, being very possessive, always wanting to wear matching clothes, words of affirmation and physical touch!!, telling hid teamates about how good and kind you are, literally making you experience any kind of dates ex: beach dates, museum dates, stargazing dates, always wanting to touch any part of your body; arms, cheeks, hands

Dating Hiori Yo includes arcade dates!!, winning you stuff toys in claw machines, gaming dates, photobooth dates, physical touch and quality time!!, cuddling while raining, playing games even if your horrible, the beds in minecraft being side by side, carrying you in literally any game, sending you spotify lyrics that he thinks relates to your relationship with him, watching netflix together during summer vacation

Dating Noel Noa includes waking up during weekends with him serving you breakfast in bed, carrying you around like a teddy, all love language, gifting you extravagant gifts everyday, leaving you colorful sticky notes in the counter everyday with daily reminders such as "don't forget to drink water" or "i'm going home late, you should sleep early today"

Dating Ikki Nikko includes only letting you touch his hair, cafe dates, letting you have his drink if you like it more, gifting you a giant teddy on your birthday, would always update you through chat, sending you spotify playlists, handwritten letters, sending memes to eachother, dreaming about being married and adopting 5 cats

Dating Yukimiya Kenyu includes neck kisses!, ranting about all his problems to you at 3 am while cuddling, taking pictures of you every time you go out, his wallpaper being you (he changes his wallpaper every week), just because flowers, photographer x model, always having your favorite food in his bag

Dating Charles Chevalier includes painting each other's nails with the eye color of each other, him only listening to you, sunshine x grumpy, always asking for headpats, booping your nose, watching disney every night before going to bed, expecting you to feed him every time you go out

idk guys kasasu and otoya feels ooc, I THINK IT'S VERY HARD TO WRITE ABOUT THEM SINCE I FEEL LIKE THEY'RE RED FLAGS AND I REALLY DON'T KNOW ABOUT THEIR PERSONALITY THAT MUCH..... (sorry karasu and otoya fans 😔😔) but anw hope you all still like it ☝🏻🤓

btw PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE SUGGEST ANYTHING TO WRITE IM HAVING WRITERS BLOCK LOL

[inglorionamy-ammy]

Of Home and Haven (Ch 1/6)

[Yes I love them and I am drawing them a cover lol]

Summary: A tender tale between an outlander barbarian and a scholarly wizard, navigating life, love, and belonging (aka. What "being together" means for them) in Waterdeep and beyond.

Pairing: Half-orc Barbarian F!Tav X Gale SFW

Word count: 3.2k

Notes: Welcome to my first venture into fan fiction!

A gigantic shoutout to @senualothbrok for guiding my newbie writing every step, for being my beta and English coach, and for being so enthusiastic about Gale AND Ta'V in general. Without you, I wouldn't have the courage to post the story.

For whoever ventured here, please enjoy :)

AO3 Link: Here

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It still feels wrong to venture outside without the Nyrulna, your faithful trident.

Logically, you understand it’s a horrible weapon choice for the crowded streets of Waterdeep, its thunder damage a guarantee of passerby casualty. You are not expecting battles anyway — Compared to your last two months of tadpoled adventures and the previous ten years of your mercenary life, this is a significant change of pace. The violence rate here is obscenely low.

Ha. Astarion would have giggled at that, followed by a disapproving-but-amused headshake from your gentlemanly wizard. Gale Dekarios, your human, your man. Even counting your pillow, he is still the softest, finest thing you have ever laid hands on in your nomadic life. What a strange twist of fate, that a scheme of the Dead Three has led you to this treasure you'd never encounter otherwise. Perhaps a “thank you” is in order.

A lady always says thank you. Ma’s voice rings in your ears, a distant memory. You snort, not to her but to yourself. She had never lost faith in your ability to be civilized, even when you believed otherwise.

Now, it is Gale who has given you the courage to try out polite society again. The last time you set foot in a city, not including the cultist-infiltrated war-torn Baldur's Gate, was for an escort mission at Elturel. You and a few others were hired to travel with a half-elf noblewoman, her frail yet elegant frame reminiscent of the fawn you hunted a day before. In daylight, you rode next to her, vigilant for any potential danger. At night, you postponed your rest to hunt so that her private chef could prepare her precious meal, while you feasted on cheap rum and dry meat. You had no protest over such an arrangement, being right at home living simply in the wild. It was only when she deliberately changed her wagon into what you could only describe as a "show-off cart" to enter the city, that you felt a pang of distaste. Despite her so-called concern for safety, she wanted a crowd anyway, and a crowd was what she got. Unsurprisingly, when the crew marched past the city gate, the people of Elturel gathered to stare at her in awe and at you in fear. As you walked alongside the heavily decorated four-wheeled cart at a painfully slow pace, you silently thought, "That could be me sitting in there. I am half-human too, you know?"

But that’s where you stop. Focus. You have two missions today, the first being to bring a surprise lunch to your fiancé at Blackstaff Academy. You have roasted a pig leg as best as you could with his magical hob, picked out the freshest berries of the season, and scouted a rich full-red you know Gale will enjoy.

Wait. Is drinking allowed at school? You wouldn’t know, as your education came from your parents and the road. In any case, he can store it in his big, nice teacher’s room he gleefully described in detail when he first got his position a week ago. You had been celebrating at the Yawning Portal that night, and your drunken wizard had lovingly leaned on your arm, so overjoyed that, despite being in public, he cheekily rubbed his beard against you like a spoilt kitten. You just couldn’t resist giving his soft hair a good pat.

“T-This is surreal,” he sighed, with a lazy gaze under half-lidded eyes. “Please, my love, join me someday. I have so many stories to share —it is my second home after all!”.

You liked the place already. If that is where he belongs, then you must go there as well.

In the end, you decide to give up the Nyrulna and pick a simple axe, just for safety measures. It should be a perfect choice: small enough to hide under your cloak and cheap enough not to make a fuss, even if it got confiscated by an academy guard. Tracing its metal notches reminds you of Karlach, a fellow barbarian soldier. You miss that woman.

You check yourself in the mirror one last time, adjust your dreadlocks, and take a deep breath. Time to face polite society.

---

"STOP."

You hold up your hands as two steel sentinels halt you at the gate of the renowned Blackstaff Academy. It is a gesture you have practiced many times, wary and expectant. Behind them, the arcane tower looms over you. The voice of the guards sounds too hollow and unified, a single echo shared between the duo. Remotely controlled guards then, you think, impressed.

“STATE YOUR PURPOSE.”

“I am here to see Gale Dekarios, Professor of the Illusion School.” You practiced this also, more times than you’d ever admit.

“School of Illusion,” the voice corrects you. Now it sounds like a sentient being, not like that weird projection of Lorroakan’s at Sorcerous Sundries. The masculine voice has a pinched, haughty tone and an air of tired condescension. You are immediately reminded of wizards and their pride in education; how a long time ago, when you had miraculously succeeded in channeling the Weave for the first time and shared your joy with Gale — “I didn’t know channeling the Weave was so easy” — he wasted not a second to remind you that, in fact, it is not. Somehow, that awkward moment has now turned into a soothing memory.

“Hm-Right.” You cough to hide a snort. “I am his wife. I would like to bring him lunch. May I pass the gate?” As an afterthought, you add, “Please?” Your Ma would be proud.

“LIAR. Piss off before I chase you out.”

Of all the responses you expected, this is not one of them. You are growling before you know it. “I suggest you KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT.” The words rush harshly out of your fanged mouth.

…uh.

In an instance the two sentinels spring into a battle stance. Worse still, you can feel onlookers start to gather, and your skin itches under their gazes. You force an exhale.

“…What makes you think I am lying?” You try as calmly as you can manage, holding onto the mental image of your smiling wizard, just beyond reach. Volo’s book better gets published sooner so that everyone will know who you are. Better yet, you will make sure he highlights the word ‘wife’.

“Professor Dekarios is not married.” The sentinels, with the smuggest voice you have ever heard in your life, drop their final blow.

And that is when you remember. Yes, you are still technically his fiancée, even though the man himself has often forgotten that, already showering you with affection far deeper than a ring could ever capture.

Perhaps someone more eloquent would continue to argue, ask Gale to come out, and demand proper treatment for a lady. But right now you only feel overwhelmingly exposed, with too many prying eyes and wiggling tongues for you to maintain your civil façade any longer. So you retreat, trying to ignore the unsubtle snickers. The sentinels were not as clever as they thought they were anyway. What kind of guards reveal personal details to a potential enemy like that? Amateur.

---

What would Gale do to remedy the day? He would strategize.

You decide to call upon Tara to deliver the meal, and if the sentinels deny her entry they will know true horror. Her outrage upon hearing your encounter was enough to cheer you up. After all, your goal is to get your love fed, and the means—who is doing the delivery — are less important than the ends.

With that dealt with, you now need to focus on your second mission—to pass a job interview. You have decided that settling down in polite society means less fighting, but there is no way you’d just stay at home and rely on Gale’s income, even though he wouldn’t mind. The man is more than willing to provide for you, but you wouldn’t want to lounge around in the tower, hanging off his coattails. Truth be told, this is for your own good too—you truly wish to be a part of Waterdeep by playing an active role in it, not just as a tag-along of Gale’s.

Of the ten positions you applied for in the past month, you only got one reply: a counter clerk at the Aurora's Realms Shops next to the Market. Gale had frowned when he heard about the demanding dusk-till-dawn working hours, but you assured him you’d only take shifts six days out of a tenday. He had tried to argue further, but upon seeing your determination, swallowed his questions. You both know that if you had applied to be a city guard, a dock laborer, or even a weaponry store assistant, you’d get better offers. But you have decided that you want a change. More sitting, less fighting. To be polite. Chit-chat with people. To smile without malice.

So, on leaving Blackstaff, you arrive at the shopfront five minutes before your interview. You scan the two queues before you: one inside the shop and one outside. A queue for a counter clerk job at this paid rate? You lament, Waterdeep and its gods forsaken job market.

You push open the glass door, and upon seeing you enter, a human woman with a clipboard swiftly calls, “Oh. The interview for security guards is outside.”

“I am here for the counter clerk one.” Several candidates from the queue indoor turn to you curiously. To be fair, all of them are tinier than you; you’d have no problem reaching the top shelf, or lifting one, if you ever needed to.

“Ah. Right.” The lady is polite enough to look embarrassed. “And your name?” She shows you her clipboard as you tower over her, and as you scan through the long list she adds helpfully, “Or you can just tell—” “I know how to read.” You stop her mid-sentence, your harsh tone making her wince, and you wince too. Gods, you need to get better at this. Apologetically, you soften your voice, “This is me,” pointing to your name on the list.

“Ta’V Riversong?” She is surprised. Does she recognize the Hero of Baldur’s Gate? She does not start praising your great deeds, so you assume no, you aren’t that lucky. It must be the other reason then.

 “Yes,” you explain. “Riversong is my Ma—mother’s surname, she’s a human.”

This is one thing you share with Gale: taking your mother’s family name. Your father, however, did not abandon the family like Gale’s father did. Instead, your father understood—theirs was a runaway marriage, and your mother had sacrificed a lot to settle down with a barbarian deep in the woods, away from civil society. Her name was her last connection to her noble past, and your father could never deny her that. Idly, you wonder if this woman has heard of your mother’s family. Growing up, you never cared enough to learn about this illusion of a heritage.

“I see,” she says meekly. “Sorry…It’s just that from your application, I didn’t expect you to be a half-orc.”

---

And that is why you end up shit-faced in a random tavern. You don’t even bother to look at the tavern sign as you stumble in, determined to leave behind the interview, the Academy, and polite society as soon as possible. You order whisky first, then firewine, because you can’t afford to waste money, given that you definitely won’t get the job. You understand. They want someone less intimidating. Of fucking course.

You are almost delighted when you feel hostility flushing towards you.

The hair at the back of your neck stands. At the corner of your eye you spot the flash of a cunning dagger, which you recognize as a Murderous Cut. Ah, local Bhaal cultists then. You may have had a bad day, but at least you can make theirs worse. You down your drink in one go, and without further ado, send the mug right into a cloaked figure’s face.

In an instant the whole tavern breaks into chaos. As the others reveal their weapons, you realize something: You have missed this. The axe you wield breaks through wind and skulls. Frenzied roars explode from the depth of your lungs, your charge unstoppable and inevitable. This is the part of yourself you used to be most proud of, the warrior that you were trained to be, born from ashes and forged in flames.

FIGHT ME! You father shouted, signaling the start of the match.

Two figures charge at you. You ground your stance before taking a full-body swing, slashing open both poor souls at once. With a kick you send one of them towards the side, knocking over a clamour of plates and glasses.

SIDE! He took advantage of your open stance.

A blade cut scratches your cheek, but you promptly ignore its stink of poison. You grab the man and throw him right at a ranger in the corner, knocking both of them out. Perhaps you are enjoying this too much, but when you look at the screaming Waterdhavians, your grin is wide and true. You will not be tamed.

CHARGE!

As you knock down your last enemy you feel free, freedom that you haven’t tasted for months since you arrived in this godsdamned city. You rise, wobbling, and you see your father grinning proudly. On the day you had beaten him down finally, he had pronounced you a worthy adult. You were sixteen, ready to hit the road. You laugh maniacally, in joy and sorrow and everything else you can’t name. You know Gale could name them. Yes. Gale. The smartest, sweetest person you’ve ever known.

And then you collapse.

---

You were inside his purple tent. Late at night, he illuminated it with floating orbs, reclining between your legs as he read his tomes. He was so focused, and you couldn’t help but distract him with a kiss on top of his head as you gently traced circles on his stomach.

He chuckled, low and warm, then leaned back against you.

“This is one mystery I’ll never solve,” he began, closing his tome. “Why oh why would such a wonderful, ferocious, tenacious warrior ever set her sights on someone as brittle as me?”

“I could ask the same in reverse, but I ran out of adjectives,” you muttered sleepily and he laughed, setting his hands on top of yours as his thumb stroked your calloused skin.

You knew he was unsatisfied, so you tried your best, despite the pulling weight on your eyelids, to set his ever-churning mind to rest.

“You smell good,” you managed, and he laughed even louder.

But you needed him to understand. You pushed out one last word.

“Home.”

He went quiet as you fell asleep.

---

You hear…

“Ta—”

Something. Familiar. Wings.

“Ta’V—”

It’s the smell that gets you.

“TA’V!”

“WHAT? I’m awake, I’m awake. Don’t fret!” You jerk up, snapping out of your coma. It is Gale who holds your face urgently, his brows tightly knitted, knees rough on the hard ground. Next to him, Tara flutters her wings, startled by your sudden movement.

You are elated to see them, and you want to tell them so. But something in his glistening eyes makes you pause.

“Don’t fret?” His voice is an octave higher than usual. “You were lying on the ground alone, bleeding, unconscious, surrounded by godsdamned cultists, AND YOU TELL ME TO NOT FRET?”

Dead cultists, you want to counter, but your overflowing relief finally spills over.

“I love you,” you say instead, and Tara twists her tail in amusement.

Gale stares at you for a long time. Finally, with a deep breath, he relents.

“And I you. Let’s go home, shall we?”

---

While you have never been well-versed in sentimental things, you do understand that this situation calls for a hug. So you gather him into a squeezing embrace as soon as the two of you stumble out of the portal. Tara, in the meantime, settles herself on the kitchen counter, waiting for the drama to unfold.

To cheer him up, you decide to start with something happy. “So…did you enjoy the meal Tara brought you?”

You feel him tense, so you hug him harder. A moment later, he nods against your chest.

“It was wonderful,” he mutters. “I savored every bite, sang the chef’s praises to anyone who’d listen.” He pauses. “I learnt from Tara what happened at the gate.”

“Oh, well. Perhaps I shouldn’t have dropped by without a head’s up.”

He pushes himself away from your chest and stares sternly into your eyes. “That is not the point. I swear, the first thing I’ll do next time I return to the Academy is to teach that young man Endorick a very serious lesson on manners. That was pure disrespect, not only to you but to everything the Blackstaff stands for. In fact, the only reason I was delayed was because of the next bit of shocking news Tara relayed to me.” His gaze turns sorrowful. “My love, would you please tell me what happened?”

You grunt. Talking has never been your strong suit, but it is Gale’s preferred mode of communication, so you push through it. You tell him about the failed interview, the resulting drinking, and the fight. You try to describe your feelings along the way, knowing that it will comfort him to know more about you. At the end of your narrative, he falls silent.

Then he announces abruptly, “Let’s pack.”

“What? Why?”

Gently, he presses his hand against your cheek. His voice is firm and tender when he says, “It was never my intention to cause you such pain, or to mold you into something different than what you are now.” He grimaces. “In fact, I can scarcely believe I truly deserve to have someone as wonderful as you by my side as a friend and a wife. So we can go, far away from here, travel again, meet your parents perhaps! Anywhere that makes you happy, I will follow.”

“But what of your teaching?” You counter, and you are almost appalled when he shrugs. “I have barely started. I’m sure the esteemed, resourceful Blackstaff Academy can manage without—"

“NO!” You stumble, hands gesturing frantically. “This is your dream! Your second home, you said!”

“And you are my first,” he declares without hesitation. “I know my choice.”

Your head hangs. You feel dejected. He doesn’t get it.

There are too many thoughts swirling in your head, words starting to slump and melt and break. You can’t explain yourself, and you can’t keep up with this conversation anymore. Unlike Gale, you must see and touch to manipulate. As you fall silent, you can sense Gale’s increasing concern.

Finally, you proclaim, “I will show you tomorrow.”

---

This is why, when the morning comes, your fiancé will find himself awake before you — a rare occurrence — and reading a great puzzle in the form of a simple note, carefully pried from your fist as you doze. It reads, in handwriting he finds as endearingly boorish as its owner:

“I want to work at Blackstaff Academy too.”

TBC

---

Thank YOU for reading this story. Tell me what you think! It would make my day :)

Other things that I do

[bomberqueen17]

realizations

this is just me having medical realizations and again wishing I had someone to help me coordinate my medical care. I hear rumors some people use primary care physicians for this but mine doesn't do that kind of thing, so I'm writing things out here instead.

physical therapy:

shit got so busy last week that i fell off the wagon for the first time. I've only ever missed a single day of the thrice-weekly physical therapy exercises since I was first prescribed them in January; on two occasions I think I've wound up doing them only twice in a week. But last Tuesday, I woke up and did a few of them and then ran out of time, and then worked three twelve-hour days in a row, and a fourth day I worked six hours and then drove four more. And then I was visiting friends and had horrible menstrual cramps. So I just didn't climb back onto the wagon.

I haven't had bad sciatic nerve pain at any point during any of that. Sure, toward the end of the long days on my feet I was taking any opportunity to sit, and I was doing some of the pt stretches, and it's not that the sciatic nerve didn't hurt at all. But it didn't keep me up. And I now am back to a normal level of physical activity, and I slept in a bad position last night and am experiencing no consequences today.

I'll go back to them-- need to figure out today if I have an appointment tomorrow or Thursday first-- and I'm sure not saying the exercises caused the sciatic nerve pain-- but it sure is a fucking data point isn't it.

ADHD meds:

I have managed to take two doses of Ritalin about four times in the last two weeks. It used to be that I would at least really notice the first dose, but I've been faithful enough with it that at this point my body doesn't seem to react to it at all. I can't tell whether I've taken it, most days, and that means I don't notice it wearing off and I don't think to take the second one. I know it shouldn't work like that but it definitely doesn't. There have been days I've forgotten both doses, though, and there's no real difference in those days. And that time I tried to sew those bike shorts was one of my most obvious two-dose days.

I don't need help focusing my attention, which seems to be what the stimulants do. My manifestation of ADHD is not distraction. I have always been able to focus on a task. What I cannot do is initiate a task, change a task, or perform a sequence of tasks that depend on one another, beyond a very simple list structure. Last night I had to entirely admit defeat because coordinating a sequence of tasks was beyond me. It was an embarrassingly simple sequence of tasks: I had to drop my car off for service, and get dinner, and the hardest part was that I had to coordinate a person accompanying me in a second vehicle so I could get a ride home. And there was a time constraint, and I could not do any of it because I could not initiate the task of looking up which takeout restaurants were nearby. "Solve one thing at a time," Dude said, and proceeded to help me, but I said "i can't solve one thing at a time, because if I solve one thing I will not then be able to initiate the solving of the second thing, and then the second problem will derail the rest of my night."

On my own I would not have been able to feed myself dinner, I think. I would have had to abandon that very simple task as unsolvable. I simply could not hold two things in my mind long enough to consider it. It was absolutely stupid.

Relatedly I was trying to figure out how to calculate the sale price of an item, and it was 60% off the listed price, and I know to get 60% of something you multiply it by .6, so I was trying to do that and then subtract the number I got from the original number, and I tried it literally nine times without being able to remember the .6 result long enough to then type it back into the calculator. Yes, I know you can just times it by .4 instead now, and I also know that at any moment I could have gotten up and gotten a piece of paper, or gotten a second calculator, or taken a screenshot, but all of those solutions were so cumbersome and involved me abandoning my initial task that I could not figure out how to use them. I finally asked someone else and they told me the answer and also how to use the times .4 method, which I had considered but wasn't confident enough in.

All of this is related, I think, to me having basically no working memory. I cannot hold a thing in my mind while I contemplate a second thing. And I don't know if any ADHD medication would ever help with that. That is the root of almost all of my problems: I know, from long experience, that I have to continually maintain the single thing I am focused on in my mind, and if I try to think of any second thing, I either can't, or if I succeed, will lose the first thing irrevocably. So i can't use most of the problem-solving skills I know fine well how to use. I can't get fucking anything done. (I give amazing advice, always have, because I've spent a ton of time figuring out how to solve problems and then discovering that I can't actually use any of those methods successfully.) And, I can pretty conclusively state after these several months of experimentation: ADHD stimulant meds have zero effect on this problem.

I don't know if any meds have any effect on this problem. It may well be that there is nothing to be done for my condition, medication-wise. I guess I'm glad I was able to try medication, since it is such a miracle for so many people. I guess I'm just sad it wasn't a miracle for me. But it hasn't addressed any of my problems so I don't see a point in continuing it.

Possibly what I need is some other kind of therapy, some kind of like behavioral therapy or life coaching or something, I don't know. It would help me enormously, I think, to have a lifestyle with a predictable routine and very little dislocation, but that's not possible for me with my current job and life situation. And I don't know how to discover what kind of therapies even exist, and I know the psych provider I've been seeing will not be able to recommend anything in the three minutes we get per meeting. So I might just be out of options, now. But I guess I'm glad at least I tried.

I really wish I had some kind of doctor overseeing all of my medical care I could consult about this, but I don't, I only have the individual specialists. So I'm on my own and I'm just trying to work around my severe memory problems by writing things out, I guess.

Currently I am just going to have to accept that there's literally no way I'm going to be able to figure out how to get to Rochester and back this week, so I'm going to give up on retrieving my critical personal electronics and just wait until I head back to the farm to get them on my way through. Which sucks and I am sad about but I just don't know how to coordinate the logistics and incorporate that into my life, so I'm going to stop worrying about it. This is how I get through things: I just let almost everything go, and live with whatever I can pick up in the aftermath. C'est la vie!

Oh huh you can't add more tags onto posts once you've stopped adding them huh. Fascinating choice, Tumblr.

[uchatadara]

Cracking sound came from Jyn's dress. This is a disaster, she is doomed how she ripped her wedding dress like that!

Meanwhile, Bodhi panickedly checked the dress "Jyn, I think it is better if you just remain seated so people won't notice, will they?"

Jyn kept her mouth shut while her mind flashed before her eyes about the possibility of a wedding disaster. If only Marva had not insisted on this reception since she and Cassian eloped, this wouldn't have happened. She wants to please her mother-in-law for the last time before she drags her only son to live somewhere in Europe with a wedding party.

A walking sound is coming closer, Jyn knows whose it is. "Bodhi, is everything alright?" Cassian's voice clearly sounds worried and noticed something is wrong. Bodhi pointed out with nervous eyes but why does she see her husband's face so calm and is that a smile?

"You forgot that your husband is a surgeon, Jyn, so I can do some stitching here. Bodhi, do you mind asking Bix? She knows where my mother put her stuff."

Jyn loses her words and keeps her eyes on Cassian. How could she forget that he can basically solve anything? She realized she would be nothing without him. This feeling is both frightening and relaxing. Jyn Erso, who never depends on anyone, has now found a partner with whom she can share thick and thin together. "Sorry, I am not used to people celebrating occasions and sticking around with me. I am about to pass out in this tight dress, but it is so beautiful, and I don't want to ru-."

Cassian reached out for Jyn's hand, stopping her unnerved mumbling. She now sees that Cassian is as anxious with all the wedding euphoria as she is, but they have each other to rely on so everything doesn't matter. He kissed her forehead and said, "Well, come home, mi amor."

Inspo from this post:

[inkskinned]

you wanted to be a good friend, because you loved your friends, but the truth was that everyone else somehow had a pamphlet on being normal that you never received. most of the time you learn by trial-and-error. you are terrified of the next big mistake you make, because it seems like the rules are completely arbitrary.

you've learned to keep the prickly parts of your personality in a stormcloud under your bed - as if they're a second version of you; one that will make your friends hate you. it feels feral, burning, ugly.

instead, you have assembled habits based on the statistical likelihood of pleasing others. you're a good listener, which is to say - if you do speak up, you might end up saying the wrong thing and scaring off someone, but people tend to like someone-who-listens. or you've got no true desires or goals, because people like it when you're passive, mutable. you're "not easy to fluster" which is to say - your emotions are fundamentally uninteresting to others around you; so you've learned to control them to a degree that you can no longer really feel them happening.

you have long suspected something is wrong with you, but most of the time, googling doesn't help. you are so-used to helping-yourself, alone and with no handbook. the reek of your real self feels more like a horrible joke - you wake up, and, despite all your preparations, suddenly the whole house is full of smoke. the real you is someone waiting to ruin your other-life, the one where you're normal and happy. the real-self is unpredictable, angry.

your real self snarls when people infantilize the whole situation. because if you were really suffering, everyone seems to think you'd be completely unable to cope. but you already learned the rules, so you do know how to cope, and you have fucking been coping. it's not black-and-white. it's not that you are healed during the other times - it's just that you're able to fucking try. and honestly, whenever you show symptoms, it's a really fucking bad sign.

because the symptoms you have are ugly and unmanageable for others. your symptoms aren't waifish white girl things. they're annoying and complicated. they will be the subject of so many pretentious instagram reels. if they cared about you, they'd just show up on time. you care, a lot, so deeply it burns you. you like to picture a world where the comments read if they loved you, they'd never need glasses to see. but since that's a rule you've seen repeated - "one must never be late or you are a bad friend" - you constantly worry about being late and leave agonizingly early. there are no words for how you feel when you're still late; no matter how hard you were trying.

so you have to make up for it. you have to make up for that little horrible real you that you keep locked in a cabinet. you are bad at answering emails so every project you make has to be perfect. you are weird and sensitive so you have to learn to be funny and interesting. you are an inconvenience to others, so you become as smooth as possible, buffing out all the rough parts.

all this. all this. so people can pass their hands over you and just tell you just the once -how good you are. you're a good friend. you're loveable.