#look the most complicated a book can get before it's too frustrating to read in terms of actual writing and how small the words are is like

[inmyheaddd]

walkin’ out the door with your bags - grayson hawthorne x reader - part 6

⤷ “i’m not the type to run, i know we’re having fun,”

summary: you and gigi are peacefully enjoying your day, when you find out, grayson’s… back? and he wants to talk. what could go wrong? wc: 3.0k masterlist || series masterlist — other parts!

14 years old… 

you found him hiding in the library.  

he was slumped in the corner, knees pulled to his chest, head buried in his arms. at first, you weren’t sure it was him—grayson hawthorne never looked so… small. 

his usually pristine shirt slightly wrinkled like he’d been tugging at the hem, and it wasn’t tucked in. he didn’t look straight at you when you stepped in, but he didn’t tell you to leave either.  

“what do you want?” his voice cracked, but he tried to sound cold.  

you didn’t answer. instead, you sat down beside him, legs crossed, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

he blinked at you, waiting for an explanation, but you just shrugged. years of knowing each other, and it always went down like this. 

“company.” you picked a random book off the nearest shelf and flipped it open. “you can pretend i’m not here.”

he didn’t reply.

minutes passed. long enough that you thought maybe he really would ignore you. at one point, you began actually reading the book you were pretending to read, and nearly forgot about the boy beside you.

but then, out of nowhere, he spoke.

“i don’t know what to do.” he admitted slowly. “there’s this girl… emily,” he said, his voice low, and you felt your heart beat faster. “and… my brother. jameson.”

your chest tightened, though you weren’t sure why. your kept your gaze fixed on the pages of your book, but your hands had stopped turning the pages.

“what about them?” you asked carefully, glancing at him for a second.

he ran a hand through his hair. “she’s… complicated. and jameson—he doesn’t think. he just jumps into things, never stops to think what it might do to everyone else.”

you hesitated, breath hitching as you studied the way he wouldn’t look straight into your eyes. whatever this was, clearly meant a lot.

he continued, looking down at the floor. “it gets repetitive. jameson, emily—they don’t think about the damage until it’s too late. and then they leave me to clean it up. and stupidly, for some reason, i do. i always do.”

you’ve seen grayson sad before, but this was different. he looked… lost. and angry. and for someone like grayson, who always carried himself like he had the whole world in order, it was jarring.

“you’re allowed to be mad, you know,” you said.

that made him pause. “i’m not mad,” he said, but the words sounded like a blatant lie.

your shoulders were barely touching , but the act alone felt larger than anything else. 

you tilted your head, a soft smile growing on your face. “okay, then you’re… frustrated? dissapointed? annoyed? irritated? pick your adjective.”

that earned the tiniest flicker of a smile, and your chest felt a little lighter, but then it disappeared just as quickly. he looked at you then, and something about the way his eyes searched your face made your breath catch.

“sometimes, i think you’re the only person who actually sees me,” he said quietly.

your heart stuttered, and for a second, you couldn’t think of anything to say. 

but then you smiled, “of course i see you,” you rolled your eyes jokingly like he hadn’t just sincerely confirmed that he really did see you as a friend, after years of just feeling like you pestered him. 

your cheeks reddened, “i’m your friend, that’s what i’m here for.” 

“but, you know,” you continued, “you’re surrounded by people who care about you,” you said softly, taking the focus away from you, and back to being there for grayson. “just let yourself see it. don’t push them away.”

his head snapped up at that, his sharp eyes meeting yours. “but people never just… stay.” he mumbled. “they have their own lives, their own motives.”

you stayed. you always would. “that doesn’t mean you have to shut everyone out,” you said, your voice steadier now.

“not everyone’s going to hurt you, grayson. but you won’t know that if you keep closing the door before anyone gets close. i mean, i annoyed you for so many years straight even when you pushed me away.” you said. 

“not everyone has my extreme level of patience and willingness to accept moody brooding.” you joked to lighten the moment, but there was truth behind it, he couldn’t expect people to stick around if he pushed them away.

he stared at you for a long moment, and something in his expression cracked, like he wanted to believe you but didn’t quite know how yet. 

he looked back at the floor, “you never actually irritated me,” he admitted, “and i never hated you. perhaps you’re right, i don’t… i don’t like to let people in.” 

you shrugged casually, “i’m always right.” 

he looked at you with a newfound softness in his eyes. “you’re annoyingly persistent, you know that?” he said finally, your shoulders still brushing against each other. 

“oh, i know.” you grinned. “if i wasn’t, we wouldn’t be friends right now.” you said with a small smile. “someone’s gotta stick around to remind you you’re not as alone as you think.”

for a while, neither of you said anything. grayson leaned his head back against the wall, letting out a long, quiet breath. 

that was when you knew he was replaying your words, letting them sink in—even if he wouldn’t say it outloud. 

— 

present

after days of confusion and radio silence from grayson, you finally told yourself that you were done overthinking. gigi had dragged you to your favorite ice cream shop for a much-needed distraction. 

the two of you sat at your usual table near the front, the smell of waffle cones and the soft hum of background music lulling you back into some sense of normalcy. that was until gigi leaned closer, her voice a hushed whisper.

“don’t look now, but…” gigi trailed off, her eyes going behind you once again. “grayson is kind of, um, here. and sitting behind you.” 

considering gigi had made very careful effort to not even mention his name around you — even when you persisted you didn’t care— hearing graysons name come from her lips stunned you for a moment, then you realized what she had just said. 

“what?” you whispered in shock, and then you turned around before you could think it twice. 

there were quite a few people in the shop, so there was quiet chatter mixed with the background music, but it all seemed to silence. 

but there he was, grayson hawthorne, sitting in the back of the empty icecream shop, glasses on typing on his computer.

‘who did he think he was?’ you thought, ‘coming to our— my place? the one that i introduced him to?’ 

you focused on the anger so you wouldn’t feel anything else. 

what on earth was he doing here? who the hell comes to an ice cream shop and doesn’t even get anything? and does what, office work? and who—

he looked up through his glasses, and you realized to late that you were sort of… full blown staring. 

he met your eyes for the briefest of seconds as you turned your head back around. 

“holy cow…” gigi mumbled as she looked down at her icecream, “he’s giving you a major longing stare right now.”

“okay,” you hummed, raising your eyebrows momentarily in lieu of a shrug that he would he able to see, “i don’t care.”

“sure you don’t,” she replied knowingly, dragging her spoon through her melting sundae. you gave her a look that said you didn’t agree, and that you seriously did not care, but she didn’t say anything. 

a beat passed before gigi suddenly grinned. “okay. in five seconds, i’m giving him a major angry glare.” she mumbled under her breath. 

“gigi, do not.”

“three…

“seriously, don’t.”

“two… one. i’m doing it!”

“gigi!”

she tilted her head back up, and bless her heart, gave her best attempt at a seething glare at grayson. 

it was sort of impossible for her to look angry with her wide blue eyes, no matter how hard she furrowed her brows. 

and she didn’t let up at it for a few seconds, then raised her eyebrows — half surprised and half amused. “ha,” she grinned to herself and fisted the air. “he looked away first. loser.” 

he was probably just crazily confused, you reckoned. 

“okay,” you chuckled under your breath, your cheeks reddening by the second. “um, should we leave now?”

“no,” gigi whined, taking a bite of her icecream. “that’ll make it obvious we’re mad. besides, i haven’t finished my icecream.” 

“well, i think that look you gave him made it more obvious,” you told her, and she only laughed as she shook her head. “but alright.” 

it wasn’t long before you left. you didn’t even have an appetite any more, and you were too overly aware of a presence behind you to focus on anything else. gigi finished her icecream promptly. 

the drive home was quiet. gigi hummed along to the radio, her mood as bright as ever, but you couldn’t shake the tightness in your chest. 

your thoughts churned, questions you’d been trying to bury for a few days swirling all over again.

“you’re quiet,” gigi said after a while, her tone soft. she glanced at you, concerned, but you only shook your head, trying to force a small smile.

“just tired,” you mumbled.

gigi didn’t push, and you could tell she didn’t buy it.

you pulled into the driveway and sat there for a moment, the car engine ticking softly as it cooled. gigi patted your arm before grabbing her bag and heading inside.

you smiled and nodded, muttering something like ‘i’ll meet you inside,’ and you stayed behind for a moment, staring at the steering wheel.

your phone was put on silent, then you scrolled through your notifications. 

grayson 

— Hi, I believe I saw you and Gigi today

you

— yeah haha i think gigi told me she saw you  i thought you were gone for 8 days? — it’s nice to see you back

grayson 

— Likewise. — I think we should talk, It’s been long overdue. 

a scoff escaped before you could stop it. the audacity.

your fingers moved before your brain could catch up.

you

— ok — talk then 

grasyon

— Would you be alright with talking in person?

you 

— yeah sure whatever — where?

grayson

— I’ll come to you.

you

— maybe not — i don’t want to disturb gigi

grayson

— Our park spot, then?

you

— ok

your heart slammed in your chest. you sat there for a moment, staring at the screen wordlessly, trying to process what just happened. 

our? how could he even still use that word?

this was happening, you were going to talk to grayson for real this time. you anticipated it wouldn’t end good. things with him were rarely easy.

you put on your headphones to numb your thoughts, pulled on a hoodie, and made your way out the house. 

the playground was completely empty, which was usually how it was when you and grayson used to go. the sun was already beginning to set when you walked out of your house, and it was fully dark once you arrived, making your way toward your spot. the bench.

it wasn’t anything special—just a worn wooden bench tucked away at the edge of the playground. but it had been yours. you and grayson’s.

he was already there when you arrived, sitting with his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the ground like it might have the answers he needed.

you sat down on the opposite end of the bench, keeping a deliberate distance. “okay,” you said, crossing your arms. “talk.” the park was eerily quiet, the air cooling rapidly as the sun finally disappeared behind the trees. the bench felt cold under your fingers as you sat down, the weight of the moment settling in.

his eyes flicked to yours, and for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of guilt there. 

you were both silent for a few seconds, before you looked away, down at the floor.

“fine, if you won’t talk, i will.” you muttered. 

“grayson,” you sighed, “you can’t just—” you started, your voice breaking slightly before you caught yourself. 

you cleared your throat, willing the tears to stay put. “you can’t just disappear and then show up like nothing happened. like i’m supposed to just... what? forget it?”

he inhaled, then hesitated. “you know, i never meant it to be like this. i didn’t mean for it to feel like that.” he said quietly, his tone so calm that it just made you more angry.

“feel like what, grayson?” you finally snapped your head towards his. “like you were ignoring me? like you couldn’t be bothered to let me know what was going on? because that’s exactly what it felt like.”

his jaw tightened, but he didn’t say anything.

“that’s it?” you scoffed, followed by a bitter laugh as you sat up straight. “you disappear, you come back, and all you’ve got is ‘i didn’t mean for it to feel like that?’”

he wielded silence like a weapon, just like he always had.

you continued, still. “what’s going on with you? you’re acting so— so different, i barely even recognize you.”

he let out a breath as he looked away, running a hand through his hair. “please, don’t make this harder than it already is,” he started, his voice calm but careful. “yes, we are good friends, but we’ve tarnished that too far for us to ever be simply friends again.”

“what? grayson,” you said through a forced laugh, “what are you even saying right now?” you knew precisely what he was saying. 

“you’re a good person.” he said, almost sounding like he was begging for you to see his point, “you’re a lovely person, the most caring and funniest person i’ve met. you deserve better, i’m not the person for you.” 

“grayson, what is wrong with you?” you couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity at what you were hearing, but you were so frustrated at his… selfishness.

“i want you, you want me, right? it’s that simple! just let us be us.”

“it’s never that simple.” he shook his head, that one strand falling back into his face. his brows furrowed slightly like the words hurt him to say.

“it is that simple! you’re making no sense, just— just stop.” you stood up, and he followed, fear flashing in his eyes momentarily. 

you took a slow step away from him.

“you kissed me! you kissed me.” your voice crackled, and you swallowed thickly, forcing yourself to keep going. “if you knew from day one that you couldn’t do this, you should’ve just spared me the effort and left me alone.”

he looked at you like you’d shot a dagger through his heart, though his eyes were the only thing that showed it. were you being unfair? probably. but in your eyes, you had every right to be. 

as much as both of you hated to admit, his eyes were far too easy for you to read. they were like a language only you were fluent in, like you could have a whole conversation without even speaking.

now, all they said was pain. 

“you’re the only thing making things more difficult, gray.” you hated the way your voice trembled. 

low blow after low blow. but he deserved it. 

all those nights you’d spent together? he knew you inside and out, what hurts you, what doesn’t, and exactly how you love.

he knew all of that, and he still thought that leaving because things were difficult was going to be the right thing.

this couldn’t be real.

“look at us, don’t you see it?” he motioned between the two of you, like whatever was happening was a tangible thing he could see. “we’re fighting like this, and we’re not even together. we’re going to ruin each other.”

ruin each other? is that what he thought? god knows how many years of friendship, a pretty perfect friendship too, and he thought making something official would lead to you ruining each other? 

you weren’t fighting with him, you were trying to fight for him. for the chance of you actually being something more. 

“we can’t do this.” his voice felt so detached, but his eyes looked so hurt at the same time. he didn’t getto feel hurt, not when it was his fault. “we’ll just end up hurting eachother, and i don’t want to hurt you.”

you nodded silently, willing your tears back. every inch of you you wanted to scream in his face, “you already have! you coward.”

he was doing nothing but hurt you these past few days.

instead, you nodded, biting the inside of your cheek to keep the tears at bay.

“yeah,” you said, pressing your lips together as you nodded again. “alright. i get it. that’s it then?”

grayson’s eyes narrowed for a split second like he was confused. 

was he surprised? did he think you were going to hang on longer? because you weren’t. you’d spent far too much energy on him. you always saw him as someone worth spending you time on, someone worth trying to figure out, someone you wanted to know.

but you understood now: he didn’t want you to figure him out because he didn’t even know who he was himself. he was scared. but that wasn’t an excuse; you were terrified, and you still were. 

love had always been your fatal flaw, the one thing you were unsure of, but you were willing to dive in head first because it was grayson. 

he just didn’t feel as deeply though. 

you didn’t want to figure him out, and you didn’t want to know anything about him anymore. 

he didn’t answer right away. instead, he looked at you, and for a moment, his mask slipped. his eyes—those stupid, stupid eyes— almost made you want to feel sorry for him. he looked vulnerable, but you were too angry to let it affect you this time.

“i… yes.” grayson finally said, sounding unsure of himself for once in his life. “i suppose that’s it.”

“good,” you nodded as your crossed your arms, “because i don’t want to hear what you have to say ever again.“ 

he reached his hands out but quickly let his arms fall back, curling his fingers into a fist. 

he looked at you like he didn’t know what to say, his mouth opening and closing before he finally settled on just staying silent.

you still felt like there was a million unspoken words that needed to be said, but you turned and walked away. 

for once, you didn’t wait to see if he’d try again.

you willed your feet to move and not think about how he looked behind you, because if you did, even for a second, you had a feeling you’d turn right back. 

part 7

a/n: guys it gets better i swear they’ll be happier than ever soon 🙏 taglist: @x-liv25-jamieswife @wish-i-were-heather @thecircularlibrary @whatsamongus @littlemissmentallyunstable

@anintellectualintellectual @lovethornes @maybxlle @sheisntyou @emelia07

 @midiosaamor @sweetreveriee @charsoamerican @hxress23 @imaseabear 

@clarissaweasley-10 @off-to-the-r4ces @thelov3lybookworm @graysw1fe @lanterns-and-daydreams 

@hermesenthusiast @elysianwayy77 @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @apollosmusee

[that-sudsy]

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem Reader

Warnings ⚠️: None, maybe grammatical and spelling errors 😅

Authors Note: hey Sudsy here! I wrote this fic based on the song "Hard to Love by Lee Brice" I'll link the song down below. Hope you guys like it and let me know if you guys have a request.

Hard To Love

Simon Riley, known to most as "Ghost," had always struggled with trust. His mantra, "the people you love can hurt you the most," shaped his interactions and made relationships complicated. He had grown accustomed to solitude, and working alone became his signature.

Once you get used to being alone, it becomes an addiction. Yet, there were moments when Simon would catch glimpses of others—friends and partners laughing over a barbecue, sharing stories, and enjoying each other's company. He would be lying if he said he didn’t yearn for that connection sometimes. Shaking his head, he would look away, he couldn't let anyone hurt him again because he trusted someone....even family could betray you and it hurts but it also makes you stronger, muttering to himself, "Let’s get back to work," before diving back into his tasks.

Then one day, everything changed when he met you. From the start, there was an undeniable tension between you two, thick enough to slice with a knife. You were a light in his shadowy world, your bubbly aura shining even in the most serious situations for a person in this kind of work field. It was obvious you loved your job,When the medics hesitated to approach him, intimidated by his fierce demeanor, you stepped forward without a second thought.

No matter how many times he threatened to push you away or sent you off, you always found your way back to him. He would make insensitive comments, testing your patience, but you would respond with a hopeful smile, reminding him that there was still light in the darkness. When he pretended to be busy, you would leave a cup of coffee on his desk, a small gesture that made him feel guilty yet endeared him to you even more.

You both shared a penchant for drinking, and there were nights when you found yourselves slumped on the couch, nursing terrible hangovers. Simon was a short fuse, a wrecking ball crashing into the walls he had built around his heart. But you could read him like an open book, the only one who could talk sense into him during his fits of rage without raising your voice or getting striked on the face.

You were his soft spot, the one person who saw through the tough exterior to the man beneath.

"I can be insensitive," he would admit, his voice low and rough. "I have a tendency to focus on what I need, and sometimes I drink too much. I don’t know why you stay with me." He said bring up the topic as you two talked under the moonlight as you both took the first watch during a mission.

You would smile softly, your eyes filled with understanding. "Because I see you, Simon. The real you. And I know you’re worth it."

He would shake his head, a mix of frustration and admiration swirling within him. "I’m hard to love, you know. I don’t make it easy."

"But I love you anyway," you would reply, your voice steady and sincere. "You don’t have to be perfect for me to care."

Simon often felt like a wrecking ball, crashing into your heart, leaving chaos in his wake. Yet, you were like a Sunday morning—full of grace and warmth, a reminder of everything he wished he could be.

"You’ve given me a million second chances," he would say, his voice barely above a whisper. "And I don’t want to take you for granted."

He knew he was hard to love, but your unwavering support made him believe he could be better. "I don’t deserve it, I'm not a good man and you can see that..." he would confess, "but I love that you love me good."

In those moments, Simon realized that maybe, just maybe, he could learn to let someone in. And as he looked at you, he felt a flicker of hope—a chance to be more than just a ghost in the shadows.

Borders by @saradika-graphics 🍅 Disclaimer: I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for your support! Please note that I do not own any of the characters or images featured in this work, nor do I claim any rights to them.

© 2025 that-sudsy. Your creativity means the world to me! I kindly ask that you refrain from reposting, plagiarizing, or translating my work in any form. Thank you for your understanding 

[eldragon-x]

Gonna write out this idea that Silver inspired in me in a post because I'm not sure I'll get around to actually writing a fic for it and I just need more people to think about Mirabelle and Odile moments with me.

I've brought up before that it's kinda insane that Odile pulled out a spell that stopped Siffrin from looping back in time. Like whatever she used here is able to interact with Time Craft, which itself would normally kill the user.

So I think it's quite possible that she herself might suffer craft exhaustion as a result of this. Add on that the party had to run through the distorted House at night to catch up with Siffrin and that Odile isn't the most physically fit person at her age.

But maybe she pushes that aside. Siffrin was hit harder by Craft Sickness, everyone was concerned about him, the party decided to leave Dormont rather sooner than later for their sake, she can handle it.

But it does catch up to her soon enough after a long day of the party fighting their way through Sadnesses and making it to an Inn by the evening. She's tired, her body hurts, she feels ill, and she's bruised and dirty from the battles, not helped by her performance already dwindling since the party left Dormont.

So she's sitting on her bed, dizzy and aching, wishing she could take the opportunity to take a bath but feeling too weak to do so. It affects her to the point where Mirabelle can tell that she's not doing well and asks if she can help her in any way.

Odile admits at this point that maybe she didn't give herself enough rest since that day in Dormont and that she's frustrated because she can't do much at all right now. And now that she brought it up, she wonders if Mirabelle is alright, since she also performed a powerful spell that day.

Mira appreciates the concern, but assures Odile she's doing okay. The shield spell was complicated, but not so exhausting that she wouldn't have recovered over a good night's sleep. Moreso she feels rather guilty for not having checked up on Odile earlier.

All that being said, she offers to help Odile bathe. Being a healer and having spent a lot of time studying about anything in the House of Dormont, I imagine she has some degree of medical training and trusts herself to handle people.

Odile gets tense but weighting her options, decides it's probably the most logical step here and she'd rather Mira assists her than anyone else. It turns into a bit of a back and forth of them trying to assure each other that they don't have to if they're uncomfortable, but Odile wants to be practical and refresh herself, and Mirabelle can take the innitiative when she needs to and at worst will feel slightly awkward about helping someone she knows personally in such a vulnerable position.

Odile actually feels a lot more embarrassed about the whole situation because it's strange having to rely on someone notably younger than herself after essentially assigning herself as the Adult™️ of the party looking out for everyone else. But Mira doesn't hesitate, gets straight to the point, and after helping Odile settle, she stays to sit down next to the bathub in case Odile needs help reaching something or getting out, make sure she doesn't fall asleep and goes under, and tries to ease the tension for her by bringing up a book she's been reading.

Odile is surprised to hear that Mira's into horror literature but gets genuinely invested which helps her relax. Mira ends up convincing Odile to borrow one of her books and jokes that she will have to read through it while the party decides to stay at the inn for the following week so she can recover.

Odile's tempted to protest the suggestion that they should stop for over a week, just for her, but drops it. The party can take their time now, that the curse isn't threatening the country anymore. She supposes they also did promise to look out for each other, she just didn't think she'd need to rely on anyone else.

On Mira's insistence, Odile gets bed rest for the following days, with the rest of the party helping her get whatever she needs, while she picks up Mirabelle's book whenever she can.

[munamarvel14]

What do you do if everybody hates you but doesn't say it?

Something happened in school today that has been spiraling me in the void of overthinking. There is this boy --let's call him ST-- who's food was brought by his parents later in the day. We were having a free period right before clubs will begin, so ST decided to eat his food then. He's rich and popular so obviously his 5 star meal attracted some of his followers that were currently in the class --there just so happened to be girls.

They ate up most of his food to the fact that the only thing you could see in the plate was the chicken --and they devoured that too. Our class manager (the teacher that stays in the class with us) also noticed it and asked ST why he was allowing them to eat his food. But ST just ignored him, smiling and laughing while they devoured the food he as the owner hadn't even touched yet.

So I jokingly said, "well, you know ST can't say no to girls?"

Let me tall you this: it was like a total hate bomb just dropped with my words.

"Bro, can you like shut up--?"

"Don't say what you don't know!"

"Please just keep your mouth shut, Muna."

And these are just the ones I heard. Only Gods knows what I didn't hear or what they said in their minds. The frustrating part? It was running joke even our Biology teacher was also into, and I'm very sure that if anyone else said that exact thing (especially if they are popular) everyone would have laughed and agreed. But it was me that said it. The weird girl with health problems who laughs at everything and cries a lotlot so of course it doesn't count.

There's another instance, though this one has been continuous. It involves my complicated relationship with a girl we will call SG. We have always been friendly to each other (ish) but whenever she catches me doing something totally embarassing like accidentally opening up my skirt or picking my pimples--

(Cue me cringing at telling the whole internet this)

or even when I'm not doing anything wrong and I'm just talking about a new book I've read or reading, it seems like she wants to say more to me. Like giving me side eyes, talking to someone then quickly stopping once she realizes I'm looking at her, etc. It's frustrating because I just want her to say what she fucking wants to say to me, instead of dodging and whispering like I'm dumb enough not to notice.

There's also this other friend whose also friends with SG. Her name is Elizabeth or Lizzzie. Lizzie and I became friends in middle school and up onto now -though I'm not sure if I can call her my friend. She's really fun when she's in the mood, cracking jokes, making me laugh, getting into this super deep discussions about the characters and the lore of our fav books. But when she's not in the mood, she always wants me to keep quiet or drives me away or decided just to talk to others and ignores me. Today I tried to talk to her when she was at her desk and she suddenly said, 'Muna, please can you just go back to your seat before I shout at you?"

I went back to my seat.

Whoever is reading this --my moots, anyone-- please give advice.

I'm so tired of being an outcast.

[ladyloveandjustice]

Otherside Picnic Volume 8 Review that Devolves into a Bunch of Quotes and Gushing

I’ve been wanting to do a review of Otherside Picnic Vol 8 because I loved it so much, but haven’t been in the right mindspace to properly convey my enthusiasm. But I’m about to get busy so it’s now or never. Here are my thoughts that are inevitably going to devolve into a bunch of quotes and gushing. Let's just go through it all!

-I loved this so much, first off. It literally inspired me to have an honest discussion with my partner about my own intimacy and relationship quirks and what we want from each other. It made me feel a little better about myself and my own weirdness, that’s how much it affected me. It really got across the relief of just communicating in a relationship, of having frank conversations with your partner, and accepting your differences from the mainstream as okay.

-The conversation about romance, love, and sex being different actually made me tear up, which is how I knew this book would murder me from the beginning. It’s just so nice to see one of my favorite yuri and favorite romantic stories ever acknowledge asexuality and the full spectrum of experiences in such an understanding and thoughtful way.

-I love that this book really recontextualizes the oblivious-to-love protagonist, slow-burn and often stalled development that aren’t uncommon in animanga adjacent media romances and made it into something incredibly interesting. This was already hinted at in previous volumes, but Sorawo’s disconnect with her own feelings and slowness in responding to Toriko wasn’t just to tease the audience, but because her view of romance and her understanding of her own feelings conflicted with societal ideas of romance and it left her lost and confused. It makes everything that came before it so much more meaningful. This is also extremely relatable, and I love that Sorawo was frustrated with the idea of her relationship fitting into a socially acceptable box, when she felt what she had with Toriko was a lot more complicated and far reaching and didn’t want to define it so neatly.

-Honestly reading about Sorawo not being all that into kissing and basically being like "I don't hate it but it doesn't do anything for me" made me feel a little bit less alone and little more confident in talking about this aspect of my experience. ME TOO. GIRL.

-Every single yuri should have a line like “sounds to me like you’re a raging lesbian” from now on. How can anything ever live up to this.

-Toriko looking into sexual abuse gave me a heart attack because at first I thought she was trying to understand what happened with her and Satsuki. But she was researching Sorawo, because the stuff with the Red Person made her realize Sorawo has trauma and I felt so vindicated about my article. Then we have the hilarity of Sorawo, who literally has a “cult mode” when she’s made to relive where she had to deal with abuses from cults, where she becomes like a different person and talks to herself like she’s a separate person and is disconnected from her normal self…claiming she doesn’t have lingering cult trauma and doesn’t dissociate.

And then Toriko going “uhhhh what about the Red Person?”

“Huh oh that didn’t count. Cuz your love saved me.”

THE most un-self aware person, I love her.

(And EVERYONE knows it, especially Toriko, loved this exchange:

“Don’t try to force something I’m not aware of onto me.”

“Sorawo, there aren’t many things about you that you actually display self-awareness of.”

“Wow, insulting much?!” )

-The fact Toriko noticed how thirsty Sorawo was for her the second they met is so funny and makes that scene 100 times better in hindsight.

“It took me by surprise. Here I am, holding you in my arms, and you go and stare at my face, then your eyes start working their way down. I was like, ‘Girl sure has a lot of energy for someone who almost drowned.’”

“So, what? When you were talking about me ogling you before, you meant—”

“Yeah, right from the get-go. From the moment you saw me for the first time.”

Sorawo didn’t realize she was doing it…the entire exchange is hilarious. SO much of this book was hilarious honestly, here are some other choice quotes:

Who would’ve known there could be such a touching scene right next to a shelf stuffed full of erotic manga with titles so incredible that I couldn’t possibly name them...?

And this, the best love confession ever:

“I love you! I love you!”

“For real?”

“Apparently!”

-I really liked that Toriko was genuinely worried Sorawo might not have consented to the previous kisses and might be bothered by them. It built on the ongoing theme of Toriko struggling with emotional and physical boundaries, giving her such good character growth, and It shows a concern and care most stories gloss over.

…Which is kind of a stark contrast to the lack of concern she shows about that time she hit Sorawo in volume 6, despite Sorawo bringing it up as a problem. This has been an ongoing issue that’s bothered me, and it’s been mentioned often enough I hope Miyazawa is going to actually do something to address it. He DID address the questionable consent of the earlier kisses, going beyond my expectations, so I actually have my fingers crossed this is something we’re going to explore and confront. It’s really jarring compared to the rest of how well everything else has been handled, and is the only mark against the story, so I’m hoping this is intentional. The Toriko who worries Sorawo might have been sexually abused and goes above and beyond to try to be sensitive and understand her and the Toriko who is dismissive of the time she hit her (now) partner seem so in opposition to each other, and I there could be some interesting exploration and resolution of that.

(Miyazawa does mention something about having to treat serious issues casually because of Sorawo's detached, cynical POV and hoping readers will understand; and I think it's likely he was referring to that, which gives me more confidence).

-Sorawo understands Toriko’s moms are lesbians now I’m so proud of her.

-the fact that Toriko wanted to fuck in her dead parents bedroom …she has so many problems, I cherish her.

-I loved getting more Toriko backstory and her moms. Love Sorawo being like “wow I probably should have asked about this but…” YES YOU SHOULD HAVE, FOR MY SAKE. But Sorawo’s focus on living in the here and now, and being content with the Toriko in the here and now, is such an interesting aspect of her.

-EVERYthing about the final scene was so good. Like how can I even talk about it? Toriko fucking Sorawo with her weirdass interdimensionally-corrupted hand while getting jazzed by Sorawo's magic eye is just PEAK lesbian fantasy, no other series had delivered this exact weirdness that I want, thank you for being there for all of us bizarre sapphics.

“I...might make you go crazy.”

“That’s okay.”

Toriko’s hand drew closer. It meant something different now than it had before. If Toriko touched me now, I’d be the one to go insane. She snuggled up to me, so close our noses could touch, and with a voice full of heated passion, she whispered, “Let’s go crazy. Together.”

“Girl hit me with your evil eye, let’s get real fucked up” I love them, they’re such freaks and I am here for it. THE PASSION. THE METAPHOR. THE PURE CHUUNI WISH FUFILLMENT.

-Honestly I just highlighted the entire final scene because it hit me right in my weird gay little soul the way few other things have and I want to be able to whip these out the next time some loser says wlw media doesn’t have poetic declarations of love and passion so I’m just going to go through them.

Here’s one:

But that’s not what happened. Toriko looked beautiful, opening before me like a flower in bloom, and I was aware of every minute branch of the tree, down to their very tips…[]

Toriko became rude, polite, lewd, or embarrassed. I didn’t have the composure to focus or think as I watched, so Toriko changed from one thing to another as my gaze wandered. Laughing, getting angry, crying, fearing, moaning—feeling as if she were flowing from one state to the next, in constant flux, and yet in all of them simultaneously.

Sorawo accepting all sides of Toriko, all her complexity, how she’s everything all at once! And the fact they have such amazing sex they basically GO TO THE OTHERSIDE? Dimension transcending lesbian sex? Showstopping, incredible.

The way her hand moved, tracing the outline of my body—its true outline—was as gentle as could be, sensitive yet bold, overflowing with care, incredibly unreserved, and audacious. It felt like it was packed full of all the experiences of being touched by another person. In another way, different from mine, Toriko was unraveling the person that I was too. I was being decomposed, broken apart. The things that had been pressed into a human form were decompressed, and expanded outwards without limit.

This is how you do a sex scene. If your partner doesn’t unravel you and make you see all the shattered pieces of yourself, is it even worth it? I love the motif of falling apart but becoming more whole at the same time- isn’t that just every human experience all wrapped up into one?

I had been afraid to look at Toriko. Toriko had been afraid to touch me. Now, as we were looking at, or touching, our partner directly, tossed about on the waves of madness, we began to gradually find a way to take control of the situation.

The idea of how maybe you can’t help losing your minds when you look and feel all the other person is…but maybe if you lose your minds together it will be okay. Romance.

These two beasts with all these bodies converged through their desire for one another and were bound together. We were blending together at the interfaces where we connected. The different ‘us’s melted together, without ever becoming a perfect whole, but without fully separating either. Like a chimera made from two types of living being. Or two galaxies colliding.

“We became a chimera” is the absolute nerdiest way to describe making love and thus perfect for them (also lol the beast with two backs).

That’s too long, so how about shortening it to Soratori?” I burst out laughing as I remembered the time she’d tried to use the name Soratori Road for what we now called Route 1 in the other world. “

That’s like one of those ship names,” I told her.

“What’re those?”

“You’re a mangaka’s daughter and you don’t know that?!”

“Nope, not a clue. Is it something dirty?”

“Well, maybe?”

“Hmm.”

Okay, so Sorawo is clearly in some fandom and ships something. Place your bet on what it is. Probably she ships creepypasta monsters.

Do you know what the ‘nue’ is?”

“It’s a Japanese monster, right? Made up of a bunch of different animals mixed together.” “Yeah, that’s the one. As an extension of that, the word can also refer to something that doesn’t have a discernible form.”

[...]

While we were there, the two of us got all mixed up together, right? Intertwined, melting into one, like animals... Depending on how you look at it, you might say we were like a nue.”

“So, basically, if you wanted a word to represent our relationship, we wouldn’t be ‘lovers,’ or ‘accomplices’...but a ‘nue’?”

Okay forget what I said this is ACTUALLY the nerdiest way to describe your relationship. And speaking of nerds, I love this stupid conversation:

“It’s cute. Nue. I like the sound of it. Maybe I’ll get a tattoo of the kanji.”

“You’d take it that far?”

“You’re not gonna get a matching one?”

“They might not let us in the hot springs in Japan anymore. You sure?

” “Huh?! I wouldn’t like that... You think it’d be okay if we put them somewhere no one will see?”

“Where would no one see? This is sounding painful, and I’m not really on board with it.”

“Wha?”

-

Anyway, yeah, this section was everything I wanted, no notes. Toriko and Sorawo have the most demented, fantastical sex possible, having a threesome with the otherside because they all are strange and wonderful, being the nerdiest dorks it’s possible to be, their relationship is now a chimera because that’s even better and more all encompassing that something boring like lovers, Miyazawa really gave us it all, love wins, gays win. What more can I say? I adore this series.

[nalyra-dreaming]

Gosh, some people in this fandom are so frustrating. It's like, God forbid we have some nuance! I haven't read the books, but I love the story, I love them all, I hate them all at times, but most of the time I relate to them. And even when I can't, I can see some fucked up logic for where they're coming from. Like, these vampires have endured way more for way longer than most of us do in our alives. If we're already messed, imagine them lol. I do believe Louis loves Armand, that he even fell in love, but feelings are complicated. I think for vampires things are even more intense and fluid than us. I believe he loved Armand and Lestat. But there's no denial that Lestat is it for him and this whole time he was in the back of his mind. Armand might have gotten a piece of his heart, but he was never able to get the whole thing like Lestat did as first. Call twin flames, soulmatism, vampire bound or whatever... Doesn't mean Loumand doesn't have its importance, Loumand was meant to happen, just not meant to last. And it's okay since Armand finds Daniel too? I do agree they could've given Loumand more stuff, I liked the flirtation on 2x02 and they had a sweet chemistry, and I did hope for it, but for all of these episodes there was never an episode where Lestat was completely out of Louis's mind. Even on 2x05, after dreamstat left, we have that messy interview where he's like a petty drunk ex talking about him lol. So there's nothing crazy in acknowledging he was never really over, even when he was with Armand. Or to assume he was feeling Lestat on that scene with Madeleine. Specially because he was looking weird and uncomfortable even before shit went down.

Exactly.

Feelings... are very complicated. And messy.

And the show is not shying away from any aspect of it all.

[hsslilly-blog]

OC ask game by @/yvesdot; from here.

Answered for/by Blair as requested by @ryp3004!

Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite? - Blair has lots of stuffed animals! Their bed is covered in stuffed animals and they made sure not leave a single one behind when they moved from Scotland. Their favourite one is a white bunny named Hop Hop.

Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child? - Yes, yes, and of course. Blair doesn't have any pets, but they and their brother used to take care of their family's sheep when they were younger. As for children, they really love them and it's their dream job to work with kids. In high school, they babysit for their neighbours and friends for money. Blairbysitting.

Ask them to describe their love interest. - "He's funny and he's nice to me."

Do they look good in red? - They didn't think so at first. Blair wears almost exclusively blue clothes since that's their favourite colour and they like how they look in it. They start wearing brighter clothing as they grow older and start making an effort to challenge their rigidity (and, like, character development). So they do look good in red, eventually!

Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about? - Blair likes writing and giving speeches. They really like public speaking. They can give a speech about any topic, really, just give them some time to think about it. I think Blair would love to give a speech on Gaelic or maybe chess notation history. And they do often talk about friendship and acceptance, too.

Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is? - Blair will always go to Autumn for advice, no matter the subject or the situation. They often agree in most topics, and if they happen to disagree Blair can trust Autumn to be honest with them and tell them how it is. They also trust Wes' takes on situations. And before he passed, Colin's word was truth. Meanwhile, Blair will not hear Sakura, ever; they believe Sakura gets too caught up on her own biases while trying to be "just" and "honourable". Also Sakura just bugs them at times.

Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words. - Me: Caring, thoughtful, bitter. - Blair: Smart, cowardly, neurotic.

Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them? - Blair loves complex puzzles. They like every single type of puzzle actually: jigsaw puzzles (their favourites), crosswords (close second), sudoku, riddles, chess; the list goes on. They love anything that makes them reflect in silence.

Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)? - No. Blair is a very concrete thinker.

What age do they most want to be right now? - They haven't given much thought to this.

They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save? - Fix their problems + save. Blair didn't grow up having money and it wasn't an issue until they moved to Glasgow and got into a private school through a scholarship. They felt very alienated. After their parents divorced and they moved to the States with their mother, their situation got a little more complicated without their father's income. So winning the lottery would do them good.

Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)? - No. Blair doesn't get how romance works and it often confuses them, so they choose books with little to no romance. They have no issue in reading books/watching films about love though, they just tend to avoid it.

Name one thing their parents taught them. - Their father taught them to always be understanding of people's situations. He also taught them how to play the piano. Their mother taught them how to lie.

Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any? - No. There are no guilty pleasures for Blair, which is interesting considering their entire relationship with guilt and shame. It is still a work in progress, but seeing their friends being so passionate about the things they like (especially Nishan) makes Blair feel more comfortable with their dorky side... which is all their sides.

What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work? - They have a problem with finality. So, spending any time on something that won't last.

If money wasn’t a limit, what would they wear? - Blair is pretty happy with their current style. Most of it is thrifted, which does add to the vintage aesthetic. Maybe with more money they'd be able to afford nicer pieces, but they like to think that the money constraints forces them to come up with creative combinations.

Do they like children? - Yes. They don't desire children themselves, but would love to work with them in the future.

Kissing: tongue or no tongue? - Gross. Why are you asking them this?

Do they study before tests? Practice before job interviews? - Blair really likes studying, planning and practicing, and they always put a lot of effort into it. They like making flashcards for tests and making bullet point lists for presentations. Autumn is always the designed listener when they want to practice a speech or presentation.

What do they like that nobody else does? - Crucifixes. Blair has a crucifix collection.

What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw? - Wildly misrepresenting them. For Blair, it is very hurtful to think someone they felt comfortable enough to open themselves to don't actually know them. Even so if it's done in bad faith, somehow. They almost break up with Wes when he accuses them of having no integrity after Ace leaks that one tape.

Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to? - Blair doesn't use pet names or nicknames with people! The exceptions are Nish (because it's Nish) and Wes (for obvious reasons). Otherwise, they call you by your full first name. They have no opinions on pet names for themselves. I have it so Wes calls them Princess (jokingly), and Colin used to call them Thistle.

Stability or novelty? - It depends. I'd say they're naturally very keen on novelty (and see the importance of trying new things), but at the moment they prefer stability.

Honesty or charity? - Honesty.

Safety or possibility? - Safety.

Talent or effort? - Effort.

Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)? - Resentment.

Would they date a fixer-upper? - Blair sees everyone as a fixer-upper, including themselves. This is not really an expression that exists to them. Relationships demand effort and change from both sides, anyway. They wouldn't "fix" a person, as it's not their place to do it.

What recurring dreams do they have? - They dream a lot with Colin. In those dreams, they're always aware he's dead, so it's a strange feeling.

What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven? - Everything. Blair doesn't think they deserve forgiveness.

[kohakhearts]

request: palletshipping, hanahaki?

wc: 7 158 read on ao3 here

Gary is eleven years old the first time he throws up a flower petal, just south of Viridian City. At first, he thinks it is his mind playing tricks on him; maybe he hit his head when that Pokémon in the gym knocked him out. But it happens again the next morning, and he knows with a leaden sort of dread settling deep in his stomach it’s not.

Gingerly, he picks the flower up, considers it with an appropriate level of emotional distance: it’s thin and round, deeply yellow. When he pinches it between his thumb and index finger, it is small enough that it seems to disappear entirely. There’s still a slight tickle in his throat, but a deep breath in and out assures him there’s nothing wrong with his lungs.

Though it somewhat complicates his return home, he also knows he has a better chance of finding information tucked away on a dusty shelf at Oak Laboratory than out on the road. He tells his grandfather his occasional cough is nothing more than a passing cold he must have picked up on the road, a story which only really gains credibility when Ash comes by and the fits become somewhat more frequent. Even if a coincidence, Gary can’t quite help taking his frustrations about it out on Ash for the handful of days they both stay in Pallet Town.

Unfortunately, his search of his grandfather’s shelves leaves him with about as much information as he had to begin with, being basically none. Most of the books are about Pokémon, rather than human, diseases; and apparently, this particular malady hasn’t been observed in Pokémon.

When he leaves Pallet Town again, it gets better. So he redoubles his training and puts flowers out of his mind in order to focus on the League. Only every other night, when he wakes up with a headache and ringing ears, does his cough re-emerge. It seems obvious, then, that it’s related to what happened at the Viridian Gym—and he is not ready to face the implications of that yet. Not until he wins the League. Not until he proves that he is stronger than that armoured Pokémon made him feel.

But it is not meant to be; his fourth round opponent sends out a Golem against his Nidoking and he has been here before, only this time his grandfather and Ash are watching, and when his Pokémon falls he falls with him. A cough wracks his body, but the petal doesn’t dislodge itself from his throat until later, when Ash finds him outside.

“Gary!”

Gary turns around with a wry smile, which he can’t maintain for long. When he coughs, Ash’s frown only deepens.

“Gary?”

He waves a dismissive hand at him, while the other comes up to cover his mouth just in time to catch the flimsy orange petal before it passes between his lips. He wraps his hand around it and drops his fist down to his side before Ash can see anything.

“That trainer was lucky I was distracted by the girls cheering for me,” he says. His confidence is easy and comfortable, and even if Ash doesn’t look entirely convinced, it’s still enough to let him get away. Another day, another time, perhaps he would have stayed behind to see how Ash fared in his battle, but today he wants nothing more than to get away from here.

As they drive away, he crushes the petal between his fingers, then sends the wilting pieces back with the wind, away from him. The sooner he gets away from here, the sooner he’ll get over it. He’s sure of it.

*

The flower petals don’t completely go away, nor, however, do they grow worse. It quickly becomes something he adjusts to and deals with, because he has to. He doesn’t try to research it any more than he has, if only because he can’t bring himself to ask anyone else about it. Scouring the Internet on a Pokémon Centre computer, he learns it is a rare affliction commonly associated with repressed feelings of some kind. So long as he still wakes up with nightmares of that Pokémon, he supposes it won’t get any better, but those are lessening, too, as time goes on. It must be a matter of patience, then.

After that, he mostly tries to put it out of his mind. It bothers him only once every few days, if that. By the time he returns to Pallet Town again, he has found ways to make his coughing less obvious; sometimes, he can even swallow them down completely, though it results in an aching pain in his chest that he prefers to avoid whenever possible. Around Ash and his grandfather in particular, he leaves room for the ache, knowing it is better than their questions or, worse, their concerns.

He thinks he has it all figured out, until the night before his battle with Ash at the Silver Conference, he chokes up not just a petal, but an entire flower.

It is round and yellow, small, as if not yet fully grown. He is no botanist, has never been particularly interested in plants beyond their usefulness to him and his Pokémon. He holds it up to the light in his room, then far away, trying to glean…something from it, but there is nothing. Umbreon, who was sleeping near his feet before his coughs roused her, stretches up to sniff at it.

“I guess it’s kinda pretty,” he allows. “If you like that kind of thing.”

“Bre?”

“Forget about it. After we’re finished here, it’ll get better. It has to.”

She doesn’t look fully convinced, but dutifully lies back down. Her eyes follow him through the dark as he leans over to put the flower on the table beside his bed, then slips back into bed and turns on his side, so he can’t see it any longer.

In the morning, it has already wilted. He tells himself he pays it no mind as he grabs his things and leaves the room behind to prepare for their battle.

Facing against Ash, it is easy to forget about the things that are weighing down him. He is a passionate and spirited battler, always intent on keeping his competition on their toes; a long time ago, Gary thought Ash would never grow into the rival he was sure as children they would be for each other, but even from across the battlefield, the glint in his eyes is impossible to miss. Gary swallows hard against the flowers in his throat and throws himself into the battle, the way Ash has always wanted him to do.

His loss comes with a sense of serenity. Any doubt still lingering about his next steps flees the moment the referee declares Blastoise unable to battle. He has made it as far as he ever needed, or truly wanted, to. And on the other side is Ash—shocked, until the realization hits him. And then he is smiling so brightly Gary wonders how he ever let himself believe he wanted to take that away from him.

He throws up a second flower shortly after that, much like the first one. He doesn’t know why looking at it for too long makes his eyes begin to sting. He doesn’t know why it makes his chest hurt so badly to drop it on the ground and stamp beneath his foot, as if it were still somehow rooted to his lungs.

After he is sure that it isn’t going to happen again, he asks Ash to meet him by the lake, and returns the top half of their Poké Ball. It takes a heaviness from him, lessens the ache, even if just a bit. He holds Ash’s hand tightly in his and smiles and really means it when he says that, this time, he’ll be there to cheer him on.

There’s nothing between them, then. Ash opens his mouth, as if to say something, but then thinks better of it and clamps it shut. He just smiles instead. When they let go, Gary turns away first. He doesn’t let himself look back.

*

His next return to Pallet Town is short but necessary as he considers his next steps. Research is a different path, which will lead him other places and introduce him to new people. It will be like starting from square one all over again.

During this time, however, the flowers only grow bigger, and come more frequently. He spends a few days in bed with what he tells his grandfather must be the flu, just trying to breathe through the stabbing pain in his sides. By now, it has been just over two years since this began; and while the venom of his memories has lessened, the flowers only seem to have developed thorns of their own.

They’re worse at night, when everyone else is asleep. This has been true from the beginning, like loneliness is a prerequisite to their growth. A few days into his stay at the lab, it is so awful he thinks perhaps he really does have the flu, and yet no amount of heaving over the toilet produces anything more than specks of velvety yellow and orange. Most of the flowers are not in full bloom; many come apart somewhere in his throat, leaving his choking that much more pronounced.

It's like this that Tracey finds him, knocking hesitantly on the door and then poking his head inside.

“Hey, Gary?” he calls. “You all right in there?”

In answer, he throws up again.

“Okay, stupid question.” Tentative footsteps echo behind him, until Tracey is kneeling down next to him. He seems to debate for a moment whether or not it’s a good idea, but after a pregnant pause puts a hand on Gary’s shoulder and awkwardly begins to rub his back.

Gary doesn’t have the strength to push him away, nor the mental fortitude to try anyway and risk revealing the source of his illness. Unfortunately, it is impossible to remain in this position when coughs tear through him again and he retches. He spits a few broken petals into the toilet and at least leans back in defeat.

“Oh,” says Tracey, very quietly.

Gary attempts to clear his throat, to little success. Apparently clueing in, Tracey gets to his feet and tells him, “Let me grab you some water, all right? Stay there.”

As if Gary could have gone anywhere if he wanted to. He shoots a pitiful glare at the toilet, as if it is to blame for the flowers now swimming in it. When Tracey returns, he takes the water without a fight, just grateful to have something to relieve the scratchiness in his throat.

“I hope you don’t mind me asking,” Tracey says after a moment, “but, um…how long has this been going on?”

Gary directs the glare at him, now; he puts his hands up in surrender.

“I know, sorry. It’s just—it doesn’t seem like your grandpa knows. Does he?”

Minutely, Gary shakes his head.

“Does anyone know?”

“No,” Gary rasps. “And you can’t tell anyone, either. It’s not a big deal, all right?”

Tracey’s gaze is kind, yet somehow also unrelenting. He says, “It is a big deal, Gary. I… It’s a rare disease, but I knew someone who had it. In the Orange Islands, we call it Hanahaki Disease. She, um, passed away from it. If you let it go untreated for too long…”

Gary tries not to focus on the part of that statement he leaves hanging between them. “There’s a treatment?”

Tracey winces. “Well��not exactly. How much do you know about it?”

Gary’s grip tightens on the glass. He tells himself it is only that tension making his hand tremble so much. “It’s psychological,” he finally manages. “It’s because of—feelings. If you don’t deal with that…”

A beat passes, and then Tracey kneels down in front of him again. Gingerly, he eases the glass free from Gary’s grasp, then sets it down on the floor between them.

“Sort of,” he says. “But you’re smarter than that, Gary. Pretty sure you can tell it’s not just in your head. It’s also here.” He gestures to his own chest, and then down to his midsection. “And here.”

As Gary watches, unbidden, he thinks of the flower he crushes under his foot, during the Silver Conference. He does not know why, despite the pain of leaning over the toilet for who-knows-how-long before Tracey came around, this is what makes tears spring into his eyes now.

“Then—what’s the treatment?”

“I guess you could say it’s honesty. But I think the first person you have to be honest to is yourself, right?” He hesitates a moment, and then says, “The feeling. What is it?”

Under the weight of his kind stare, Gary falters. Suddenly, his certain diminishes; if it were truly to do with the nightmares and the memories and the fear he’s carried since the Viridian Gym, he would not be here now. Would he?

That’s when it started. So what else happened that day?

He closes his eyes, thinking back. Ash was there. He picked him up off the floor. He looked him in the eyes, open and earnest. The memory of his hands around Gary is more poignant than that of the explosion that knocked him off his feet in the first place.

It got worse recently. He clenches his hands into fists, remembering how it had felt holding Ash’s. Passing him the other half of that Poké Ball. The bright light in his eyes. The ambitious joy in his smile.

He swallows down a sudden lump in his throat and opens his eyes again.

“I don’t know,” he lies.

“Gary…”

“You can’t tell anyone,” Gary says again, voice tight from the flower lodged somewhere within it. He thinks to try swallowing it down again, but there is no point, when Tracey already knows the truth anyway. He coughs a few times, until he is able to spit up the yellow abomination. He holds it out in his shaking hand, vision blurring somewhat.

“It’s pretty,” Tracey offers after a moment. “I don’t know if it’s true, but…I’ve heard that the flowers that grow inside the person afflicted with the disease represent the person they love. So I guess it must be someone fairly bright, right? Someone who…makes you happy?”

Gary snorts out a laugh. “Is this supposed to make me happy?”

Tracey puts a hand over the flower, which draws Gary’s eyes away from it and up to his face.

“Love isn’t supposed to hurt,” he says seriously. “The only way to make it stop hurting is by being honest about it.”

Gary just shakes his head. He can’t tell Tracey. He can barely bear to examine this realization himself.

Tracey sighs, but gives his hand a small squeeze and then reaches down and passes the water back to him anyway. “Well, at least make sure you take care of yourself. And if you ever need anything…”

There’s something terribly ironic about Ash’s friend offering him a helping hand, as if this whole thing isn’t clearly Ash’s fault in the first place. Tracey is nice enough, though, and Gary doubts he would try to involve Ash unless Gary actually asked him to. Still…it’s not worth the headache, when Gary knows he figured it out too late and now he’s missed his chance. If he said anything to Ash now…

Love isn’t supposed to hurt. Yeah, of course it’s not.

And Gary isn’t interesting in hurting Ash now, just to give himself some relief.

He drinks the rest of the water. Tracey waits for him.

Finally, he passes the glass back and says, “Thanks. I’ll let you know.”

Tracey accepts it with a smile. “Sounds good. Why don’t you go get some sleep? I’m sure I’ll see you in the morning.” He pauses, but only briefly. “Why don’t you leave that here with the other ones? I’ll clean them up.”

Gary stares at him for a moment, and then slowly unfurls his hand from around the flower. He lets it fall into Tracey’s outstretched hand, then hurries up to his feet and heads back for his room. Pure physical exhaustion is the only thing that ensures he falls asleep once he is in bed; it does not stop him from tossing and turning, his dreams an all-consuming shadow around his best friend’s smile, his hands, his burning, passionate eyes.

*

He tries to leave before Ash can catch up to him, but Ash finds him anyway. He always does. And he sends him off with the half of the Poké Ball and a heaviness in his lungs, like it is no big deal.

Mostly, his first year and a half as a researcher are spent trying to cope with the flowers growing in his lungs. A part of him is convinced he can just live with it, that even if his life is in any sort of danger, that danger hangs suspended far in the future. There must be something he can do in between then, if he just…gets stronger, learns more, tries harder.

On Sayda Island, he mostly is able to ignore it. It comes and it goes, he finds, and when he is occupied with something else, it tends not to be so bad, at least until that thing becomes stressful and overwhelming, like the rampaging Aerodactyl.

Which is a perfect time for Tracey and his grandfather to come for a visit, too.

Tracey is cautious about broaching the subject, but it becomes unavoidable when, shortly before he and Samuel are about to leave, Gary bends over, heaving, and chokes out a few crumpled petals, and then finally a large, round flower.

Dora and Crystal and thankfully preoccupied with Aerodactyl and don’t notice anything. But Gary’s grandfather sees it, and if Gary thought it was bad enough that Tracey knew, well…now he kind of wishes he could sink into the ground and be done with it.

“Gary, what…?”

“It’s not that bad,” he hurries to reassure. “It’s been happening a lot less than before.” He pointedly doesn’t mention that the flower in front of his feet now is the biggest one he’s seen yet. Even Tracey would have no way of figuring that out.

“This is…” Samuel blinks. Shakes his head. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Gary looks away. He hates when his grandfather gets that look, like he has somehow done something wrong or bad for Gary, like this is his fault rather than Gary’s.

“Gary’s been monitoring his symptoms,” Tracey jumps in quickly. “Right now, they’re not so bad, right, Gary?”

“Oh, uh…” He clears his throat and turns back to face them both. “That’s right. I just…I’m not in a position to do anything about it, that’s all.”

Samuel’s lips thin. “I don’t know much about this particular malady, but I understand the solution is fairly straightforward.” Suddenly, his eyes flash, and dread flows from Gary’s head down to his feet. Leave it to his grandfather to have him all figured out in ten seconds flat.

“You can’t tell him,” he says, and feels like he’s begging but can’t quite help it. “I’m not coming back. Look—Dora and I were talking, and she has some friends working with Professor Rowan in the Sinnoh region. I spoke to him. After I’m finished here, he’s going to give me a position in his lab. I can’t go back now.”

“Really?” Tracey beams. “That’s awesome, Gary!”

“Now, Tracey, wait just a moment…” Samuel is frowning. Deeply. “Gary, I understand you don’t want to leave things in the air for so long, but surely…”

“I don’t even know where he is,” Gary points out. “We’ll see each other again someday, but for now, I’m doing my own thing, and he’s doing his. Isn’t that enough, Gramps?”

“Well…”

“It’s not usually this bad,” he tries again. “It’s just ‘cause everything was so—hectic. I’m keeping an eye on things. You believe me, don’t you?”

Finally, his grandfather’s composure crumbles. He heaves a short sigh, then offers a watery smile.

“I believe you,” he promises. “But I hope Tracey’s right about you monitoring your symptoms. If they ever worsen…”

“I know, I know.”

Samuel gives him a long, searching look, and then nods. “Very well. Then, I’m happy for you, Gary, truly. The Sinnoh region will have plenty of excellent opportunities just waiting for you. Don’t forget to call every now and then!”

Relief lessens the tension in Gary’s jaw enough so that he is able to must up a genuine smile. “I won’t. Thanks for visit, Gramps, Tracey. See ya soon. Have a safe trip back.”

They both bid him farewell, then turn begin making their way toward the boat. Only when Gary is just about to turn away himself does he hear Tracey yelp, “Ash?!”

He shakes his head, sighing. Leave it to his grandfather to spill his secrets for him. All he can do is hope Tracey will keep him from telling anyone even more implicated than Tracey is.

*

True to his word, Gary does make an effort to call often, and dutifully reports with at least a degree of honesty on his current symptoms. They remain about the same, though his stress levels rise somewhat significantly under Professor Rowan’s tutelage. He is a severe man, with big expectations; Gary intends to surpass them all, but this grows increasingly difficult when he is throwing up flowers every other day.

It is manageable, though. Gary returns to Pallet Town for a short while after he hears Ash has completely the Battle Frontier challenge. He isn’t sure what he expects to say to him, if anything at all; but after not seeing him in so long, he can’t bring himself to think about the disease or the crushed up flowers or anything, really, other than how nice it will be to see him again after all this time.

And it is nice. In the time they’ve spent apart, Ash has grown—physically, of course, but it’s more than that. There’s a new confidence in him, unlike the arrogant self-certainty he has after he toured the Orange Islands. This is more peaceful. Assurance, security—nothing more or less than belief in himself and his Pokémon.

It is the first time Gary’s seen him in person since he left, shortly after realizing the truth of his feelings. Aside from a postcard he sent when Ash was competing in the Ever Grande Conference, they haven’t exactly shared words with each other in just as long. But Gary watched his battles on TV; Gary asked his grandfather about his travels and his Pokémon and his friends; Gary thought about this moment, and what he would say when it came, so often it sometimes kept him awake at night at least as often as the flowers have.

But he doesn’t say anything. He just accepts Ash’s request to battle, and hopes that says enough for Ash to know he isn’t giving up on his dream, and neither should he. Neither Tracey nor his grandfather try to hold him back when he says he is leaving, but, then again, neither does Ash.

It’s just as well, too, because Gary coughs up some more flowers not too far from the lab. Orange and yellow petals drift down around his feet. He takes care to step around them when he finally moves on.

*

After he returns to Professor Rowan’s lab, his condition worsens.

He is not so stupid as to think Ash won’t be motivated to follow him to Sinnoh after their battle. At the same time, he knows it is still too soon for their paths to converge. When he is in the middle of a briefing with the professor and begins vomiting blood and vomit over the side of his chair, he is too overwhelmed by the pain of it to notice that his mentor has come around and kneeled down in front of him until he murmurs, “Zinnias.”

Gary coughs once, twice, then looks up at him, dazed. “What?”

“These flowers are called zinnias. But I suppose you must know that already.”

Slowly, Gary shakes his head. “I don’t know anything about flowers, other than that these ones’ve been a real pain.”

Rowan’s moustache twitches. “Yes, I would imagine they have been. I must admit I’ve never seen this phenomenon before in person, but it doesn’t appear to be new to you. What do you know about it?”

And it’s strange, in a way, how relaxing it is. It is as if they are discussing a theory of Pokémon evolution—he grills Gary for the facts, then acknowledges the gaps in his understanding and sends him off somewhere to fill them in for himself.

“It’s caused by unacknowledged feelings,” he says. “Untreated, it can kill a person.”

Rowan raises an eyebrow at that. “And yet you’re sitting here now.”

“It’s not that bad yet,” Gary mutters, though the excuse doesn’t feel right when the words are coated in a thin film of iron.

Rowan says nothing to that. Instead, he asks, “And what is the treatment?”

“Honesty. To the target of the feelings.”

“And what of the afflicted?”

“Well, I’m being honest now, if that’s what you mean.”

“In a sense, I suppose.” He strokes his chin thoughtfully. “Then, if there were somewhere you could go or something you could do to ease the symptoms, it would be…?”

Gary closes his eyes and really thinks about this. He imagines that, by now, Ash is halfway across the ocean on his way here, but if their battle showed Gary anything, it’s that he’s still finding his path. And Gary isn’t so different, isn’t he?

He opens his eyes again. Says, “There isn’t anything. It’s just psychological management.”

But Rowan shakes his head. “No problem,” he says in that low, rumbling voice of his, “has only one potential solution. Perhaps you ought to think it over before your next assignment, and then we can re-evaluate.”

Gary chews on this for a moment. He doesn’t mistake any of it for a question, or even a helpful suggestion. This is simply how the professor operates.

At last, he nods. “All right. I’ll think it over. But I’m leaving tomorrow.”

Rowan looks down at the flowers around Gary’s feet. His eyes are decidedly dark.

“Come back if it worsens,” he says. “There are things that can be done if the cure is truly out of reach.”

In the moment, Gary doesn’t ask about it, but when his lungs start to feel heavy every waking moment of every day, after his next run-in with Ash during his assignment with the Shieldon, he begins to consider what exactly Professor Rowan meant.

The answer disturbs him more than he would like to admit:

“There are surgical procedures,” he explains gruffly. “In essence, they will remove the source of the growth from your organs. But it’s highly invasive, and not often done. The mortality rate is too high for most to justify it.”

“But some people survive it?”

“Certainly. Those who do go on to be quite lonely, however.”

“What do you mean?”

“Simply, they lose the ability to love. Much as the heart reacts to the repression of love by growing flowers, it similarly reacts to the unnatural removal of them by altering its function. In a way, it’s not so different from some phenomena observed in Pokémon evolution.”

Gary’s skin feels very cold, suddenly. He rubs absently at his arms. “And that’s the only alternative to the cure?”

“There are plenty of supposed natural remedies, though no scientific evidence to back them up. Some have attempted seances with ghost and psychic Pokémon, while others have supposedly attempted communicating with Legendaries in hopes of establishing a cure. Here in Sinnoh, Mesprit is a rather popular choice for such woes, so far as I understand it.”

Gary imagines himself begging to a Lake Guardian to rid him of his disease, then promptly dismisses the thought with a short, despairing laugh.

“I think I’d rather try my luck with the surgery,” he mutters.

Professor Rowan is silent for a moment, and then he clears his throat. “Forgive me for saying so, but I do wonder if there’s more to your decision to not simply confront the object of your affections than you believe there is. I will not presume to understand your situation, Gary. But I doubt whatever ramification you’re fearing is enough to risk your life over.”

When Gary says nothing, he just sighs. “In any case, there have been some reports about habitat disruptions in the caves of Mt. Cornet I was hoping you might be able to look into…”

That is the end of the conversation, but it stays with Gary for a long time, especially as his body begins fighting against him more and more. When he sees the Lake Guardians at Lake Valor, helpless to save them, he doesn’t think about the flowers. He doesn’t think about whether or not they could help. He sees Ash at the end of it all, one of the heroes standing in the way of Team Galactic, and all he can do is promise to return the Adamant and Lustrous Orbs back to Celestic Town.

Then, finally, he thinks of what Professor Rowan said.

Then, finally, he thinks he understands it.

(They stop no fewer than five times on the way to Celestic Town so Gary can throw up. The taste of blood has begun to mingle with something salty, but Professor Rowan tactfully says nothing of it when he has to wipe his eyes clean as well as his mouth.)

*

For a long while, Gary has time to simply think about it, if only because his condition gets so bad he is confined to bedrest for the unforeseeable future. He eventually relents to Professor Rowan’s insistences and calls his grandfather and Tracey, whose faces are sorrowful but advice is exactly what he expects it to be: Just talk to him, Gary.

His grandfather informs him that Ash will soon being competing in the Sinnoh League. He already was in contact, asking to have some of his old Pokémon transferred to him. And this time, Gary knows—he has no choice, but he can wait a few more days. He can.

The flowers he throws up now are dry, brittle things, past their lifespan. The blood that coats them when he coughs them out changes their colour into something dull and grey, not at all bright or happy, like Ash is. It feels worse, somehow; as if he has waited so long out of some noble sense of self-sacrifice and all he’s done is kill them both.

He musters up the strength to call Ash shortly before his battle against that trainer with the Darkrai that the announcers are raving about on TV. He has to leave a message with Nurse Joy, but he tells himself he didn’t expect anything different. And then he just has to hope that Ash receives it, and will come.

Though it is difficult to get up and walk around, Gary does manage it once in a while, certain that exercise will probably help him more than hinder him even if it makes his breathing short and fast and painful. Lake Verity is not too terribly far, and he finds that the way the breeze rolls off the water is refreshing; it helps him breathe.

It’s a better day than he’s had in a while that he comes out to the lake to wait for him. He watched the match on TV the other day, and still finds himself amazed at the way Ash smiled at the end of it, like he hadn’t been so unfairly outmatched, like he was just happy to have gotten the experience of battling such a strong Pokémon, rather than lost in the semifinals of his fourth Pokémon League. After all this time, so many years—and failures—he is still smiling just like he was that day at the Silver Conference. The day Gary walked away from him, not knowing what it would cost.

He doesn’t hear the sound of footsteps behind him, because he is bent over coughing when Ash arrives. The bloodied petals fall into his cupped hands. When he glances back to see Ash, they both stop, eyes wide.

Gary curls his hands into a fist, obscuring the petals from view, while Ash takes in two deep, stuttering breaths, then quickens his pace to get to Gary.

“Gary!” He stands above him, and he’s sort of…hovering. Like he doesn’t know what to do. “It’s—it’s been a while, huh? Are you…?”

In spite of it all, Gary cracks a smile at that. He scoots over a bit, and uses his free hand to pat the grass beside him.

“I’m all right,” he says. “Saw your battles.”

Lowering himself down with a wary sideways glance, Ash asks, “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah. Pretty good. I was impressed.”

Immediately, he relaxes. Smiles. “Well, thanks! I’m glad you think so. We trained real hard. It wasn’t easy!”

“Easy’s not in your vocabulary, Ashy.” Gary laughs a bit, then stops, straightening up, as the act of it sends pain lacing up his side.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“It’s…it’s nothing.” He looks away, toward the water. “So, what’s next, then?”

Ash is quiet for a long moment. In the silence, Pikachu jumps down from his shoulder and inches closer to Gary. He doesn’t have the heart to push him away.

Finally, Ash sighs. “I don’t know yet. Guess I should be askin’ you that. I never woulda travelled here if not for you.”

Gary smiles, faintly. His eyes trace out the reflections of the sun against the lake’s tranquil surface. “I know,” he says. “Pretty cool that ya got to battle against Paul’s Electivire, too.”

Pikachu’s nose brushes against Gary’s fisted hand. Not expecting it, his fingers twitch as he pulls his hand away. The petals slips between them, settling down on the grass. Pikachu cautiously steps closer and sniffs at them, then sits back and looks at Gary with wide, sad eyes.

“Pika…”

“Something’s funny,” Ash declares. “Even Pikachu’s worried about you. Gary, what’s going on? You don’t look so good. Have you been eating? Sleeping?”

Gary pats Pikachu’s head. “You’re too nosy for your own good,” he mutters. “Just like your trainer, y’know that?”

“Pi?”

“Yeah, yeah.” He sighs. “Ash, look, I… It’s been a long time, hasn’t it? That’s all.”

“That’s not all.” Suddenly, Ash’s hands are wrapping around his wrists, pulling them toward him so face Gary’s whole body has no choice but to follow. His eyes find Ash’s and blink dumbly at him as he says, furiously, “You’re hiding something, just like you were before! What were you holding, anyway, and why are you— Why are you looking at me like that?!”

Gary opens his mouth to respond, but the words are lost as he begins to cough. And cough. And cough.

“Gary?”

He heaves until at least, the familiar sensation of flower petals tickles at the roof of his mouth. When it passes between his lips, it is whole, not wilted. A yellow zinnia, perfectly rounded, not a petal out of place.

Ash drops one of his hands to pick it up. The only indication of a problem is the streaks of blood, but he is apparently unfazed by that. His eyebrows are furrowed when he looks back up at Gary.

“Really…bad timing,” Gary manages between puffs of overexerted breaths. “It’s—”

“Hanahaki,” Ash says. “Tracey told us about it, once, a long time ago. I didn’t think I believed him.”

Gary stares at him for a moment. Ash looks back down at the flower.

“But I guess it must be real, then. Gary, I…I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

Gary recoils. Ash’s head snaps back up, eyes widening. It is only their joined hands and Gary’s frail condition that prevents him from pulling away completely.

“Let me help you,” Ash says quickly. “I—I don’t know much about it, but I get the idea. Who is it? If you need to track ‘em down, then I can help! Or—or if you don’t know how to talk to them, then I—”

He cuts off when Pikachu comes around and jumps on his lap again. If he had the wherewithal to do so, Gary would have laughed at the look the little mouse levels his trainer with.

“What?” Ash bristles. “You think you know, Pikachu? You’re kidding me.”

“Pi-pi-chu!” Pikachu points at Gary, then at the flower. And then finally at Ash. “Pikapi!”

Gary has no idea what he’s saying, but clearly Ash does. He stares at Pikachu, dumbfounded, and then looks up at Gary again. He makes a clear effort to void his face of emotion.

“You can tell me,” he says, quietly. “I won’t judge you.”

“I…” Even still, even knowing the words—it’s so hard to just be honest. Gary’s not like Ash, not even close, and they both knows it.

But Ash feels it when his hand begins to tremble. He holds on tighter and leans a little closer and says, “Hey, it’s okay. You’ve definitely done scarier things than this before. Professor Oak was tellin’ me one time—something about an Aerodactyl?”

Gary lets out a huff of air, a sad imitation of a laugh. “Of course he never saves the best stories for me to tell, does he?”

Ash smiles a bit. “He’s just proud of ya, that’s all. But still—that’s way scarier than just tellin’ someone how you feel, right?”

It’s not. It’s really, really not.

“You asked me to come here because of this, right?”

Wordlessly, Gary nods.

“It reminds me of the day you gave me back that Poké Ball,” Ash says. “And I think maybe—you were kinda nervous then, too. But the Poké Ball helped me understand your feelings, so maybe…this flower…”

“I don’t know anything about it,” Gary rasps. “Except that—except that it’s colourful. Bright. Like the person it represents.”

“Someone bright and colourful. All right. Anything else?”

He swallows back an acidic taste. Clutches Ash’s hand more tightly.

“That person was the first bright thing I saw after the worst moments of my life, so—so I guess you could say they flowers are like that because this person…makes me happy.” He makes a face at that, pointedly not looking at Ash as he says it. “I don’t know what they really mean. I just know that—in all the time we spent apart, I don’t think I even really wanted to get rid of them, because they reminded me of you.”

All at once, the pain in his sides changes into something—different. More of an ache than a sharpness. A scar rather than a wound. His free hand comes up to touch around his throat, gingerly, just waiting for something to happen, but—nothing does.

He breathes in, deeply, and out, and looks at Ash.

And it’s the same look he normally reserves for battles. He saw it on the TV, watching the Lily of the Valley Conference just days ago. It saw it in Pallet Town, outside his grandfather’s lab. He saw it at the Silver Conference.

But there’s no battle here. It’s just them, and Pikachu, who’s looking…rather smug, so far as Gary can tell. And then he doesn’t have any more time to think about it, because Ash is pulling him forward into a bone-crushing hug. Pikachu yelps, ducking away just in time to avoid be squished, but Gary is not so lucky.

Then again, as he lets himself melt into it and his eyes begin to well with tears, he’s pretty sure there’s nowhere else he’d rather be.

“You shoulda said something,” Ash mutters. “Y’know, I coulda been here way sooner than this. I wish I had been.”

Gary takes a moment to respond, only once he is sure his voice is going to cooperate. And then he says, “I didn’t want to hold you back.”

Ash pulls away, just enough so that he can look at Gary’s face. He frowns.

“You never held me back. All you ever did was push me forward.”

“This is different, though.”

“Nah, it’s not. Wherever either of us ends up, I know you’re gonna be in my corner. For a while…for a while, I wasn’t sure. But I’m sure now, and I’ll always do the same for you. C’mon, Gary. You’re my best friend. What ever made you think I couldn’t love you back?”

Gary’s breath hitches. With some effort, he manages to pull away from Ash, who just grins at him. Out of the corner of his eye, Gary sees Ash scoop up the flower, and then get up to his feet.

“How’re you feeling now?”

“It’s a little easier to breathe,” Gary admits. “But I think—it’ll take some time. It’s been like this for…a while.”

“A while,” Ash echoes. “Months?”

Gary cringes away from him. He casts his gaze desperately back out toward the lake. “Well…a little longer than that, yeah.”

“A little…” Ash steps closer and leans down in front of him, so he has no choice but to meet his eyes even if only briefly. “How long, Gary? C’mon, just tell me! Isn’t the hard part over?”

“I’m not telling you that. Shut up.”

“Please?”

“No. You’re so annoying. Let’s just go back to the professor’s lab.”

Ash pouts, clearly wanting to push the topic, but then his sympathy for Gary’s situation clearly wins out and he sighs, extending a hand down to him. “Okay, fine. Let’s go. Sure you can walk?”

Gary takes his hand, even as he glares up at him. “I’m sure.”

Even once they are both on their feet, Ash doesn’t let go of his hand. Gary doesn’t ask him to, although his face feels rather hot at the continued contact. It’s only once they start walking that he finally relaxes enough to realize, “I never said the word love.”

Ash blinks. “What?”

“You said you love me back. But I never said I love you.” Gary glances at him, then quickly averts his gaze again. He clears his throat, awkwardly. “So how’d you know?”

“You…didn’t? Huh… I dunno. I guess I just kinda always knew. I never really had to think about it.”

Gary doesn’t know what he was expecting, honestly. He just sighs and wraps his hand around Ash’s a little more tightly. In his peripherals, he sees Ash’s smile widen in response. Neither of them says anything. Eventually, there will be more Gary has to be honest about, but for now…he supposes Ash is right.

There’s no need to speak what both of them already know.

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary464

1/2/25

thursday

blehhh.

went out and that was okay, my gf and her mom had a minor thing happen, my gf was able to buy 2 labubus the other day, she was talking about that being a flex (i will say out of all the blindbox trend things labubu is the most understandable since it is the cutest of them (beyond understandable, really, i am happy she got it/that they make her happy)), and her mom was like, you shouldn't buy those you should give me gas money, which is understandable in most ways except for when you wonder about how unpleasant she can be to her daughter etc., she says things that are rational or even would be right to do for her, but in such a way that reinforces her daughter being not giving with her. she really does say things to her to make her start fighting her, it feels like. this is a problem in her family, it doesn't seem like anyone knows how to ask for anything nicely, they all say it's because they're from the east coast, but it mostly seems like this weird interpersonal issue that comes from parental abuse.

here is how i looked today:

i like the pigtails a lot... i feel rather cute in them.

here's some other stuff i saw today:

i woke up and found this in the living room area... the ominous brown bag full of labubu trash basically, like the boxes they came in. i don't know why it was left there like that. this is how my girlfriend is. she came in after i fell asleep.

one of the places we went today was the bookstore downtown, i saw this book of writing by bataille i'd never seen before but i think contains some stuff i must have read before in visions of excess, though the stuff i saw in here was new to me. the first essay here is him calling andre breton a castrated lion. rather good, there's some copies online... to procure... so i will do that to read through more of it. interested in how he attacks breton, as some of breton's mysticism does take on an overtly religious/mythical/reverent pose, it frustrates me despite liking all i read of mad love, or, most of it, and taking some trouble with what i think has to be read against/read in a difficult way, where it seems as if he really is expressing that one ought to believe in a kind of magic of desire rather than what i think what bataille more accurately expresses and what he expresses along the underside of his writing, that desire finds its way to adore anything that we uncover, that we are objects who may pervert our surroundings in some sense, objects who invent the air around ourselves, in a way. this is less magical and expresses too the cruelty of our goings-on well, and why who we love may vary so greatly, and why our selves can take such great leaps and why we might see odd angles and hard light and terrible weather and find our hearts drowning in a frothing need to join ourselves with those things, as well as take shelter, in short the oddness of things is perhaps avoided by breton, at least by some measure, at least to the extent that bataille approaches things.

what we did get at the book fair was a bunch of things, i got an autofiction collection, because br yeager is in it, put out by archway editions. we also got a large collection of stuff by baudelaire, fragments and prose poems and things, very interested in that. my gf also got a book by william gass, which i should also see, and some virginia woolf, and some very bad looking book about instagram basically, that she got to laugh at.

the last place we went into today had this in it. it was a korean supermarket but it had a cosmetic store attached. i was just very charmed by this packaging... helltornado shampoo.

oh that reminds me of nmh, which i played more of today, the sidequest stuff is getting more necessary, not that i didn't do it but you have to grind a touch more at the point i'm at, which was rank 5-4, today. the fakeout is great, a good moment and complication of the story, henry is a great character, he kind of looks like my dead friend, which was interesting to think about, my dead friend loved suda's games, he killed himself before getting to every play 3, i was always really curious what he'd think about it.

anyway, the stuff with henry is great, i love him. i also really liked harvey and travis, that fight was really cute i feel like, that's the best way to describe it, true moe slapstick, it only gets upsetting when travis blinds him and he keeps screaming for the lights to turn on. i almost wish that hadn't happened, the cute 'we will kill eachother without any animus' feeling the fight had was perfect for the magician theming, i feel like. although, so is the random eruption of actually scary cruelty. which is i guess the point, and i like that point... all things need tension, i guess there is just some strange fujoshi part of me that sees travis so excited to go onstage, and harvey calling him a nasty boy, and i find it moe.

here is something from bataille in the book, now that i have collected it, this resonates with me, it's from his essay 'on surrealism' which seems to be a response to a piece written (by camus it seems?) about surrealism, it seems to go through various writers/figures involved and his relation to them, but there is this piece which exceeds the confines of such intent, i imagine the whole of it essentially does as well but i was just reading his introduction and this wowed me, with how near it feels to my heart:

i wonder about loving him too much, or something like that. his failure, at points, to accomplish anything, at times directionless thinking, his existence a pyrrhic thing, but all things feel that way to me, i suppose for things as futureless as i am, this is all there is.

oh right, today something happened in vegas, right, or was it yesterday, a guy blew up in his cybertruck. it seems like a suicide at this point, at the entrance to trump tower. what an odd way to decide to go, if it was suicide. if it was anything pointed, i don't know, it seems profoundly misguided. when i heard about it though, and that there were 'firework style mortars' in his truck, i really just thought he got illegal fireworks and left his car in the entrance and the battery caught fire and exploded, i didn't even know if anyone was injured. it seemed like an almost slapstick disaster.

well i am rather tired right now, so i should finish up here,

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[another-lost-mc]

1, 4 & 8 under relationships and personality for your demon ocs pls hehe (or just 1 if u don't wanna answer multiple questions 👻)

Oh these are great questions! I'll answer for all of them. <3

What's their relationship with the cast?

They're all potential platonic/romantic candidates for MC. 💙

Karasu: I actually detailed his relationships with the demon brothers here, and a more in-depth look at his relationship with Mammon can be found here. For the most part, he can get along with them easily enough.

Azra: Easily aggravated by Lucifer and avoids him. Doesn't really interact with most of the brothers except for when they're at the club. You could argue that he and Asmo are friends. Asmo spends so much time at The Fall that they see each other a lot and get along. It helps that they're both lust demons and interested in the Devildom fashion/beauty scene.

Zekhan: Very rarely interacts with the demon brothers except for Lucifer or Asmo. Sometimes he speaks to Lucifer if there is a special party or event being hosted at The Fall. He also sees Asmo frequently so talking to him isn't too much of a chore, even though he thinks they have nothing in common.

Metatron: Was intimidated by Lucifer but got along with the others when they lived in the Celestial Realm. He used to be close friends with Azra before he fell, and his feelings about him now are complicated. (After getting over his initial shock and fear of Satan, he'd probably get along with him since they're both such avid readers.)

What is a character trait that will immediately make them despise someone? On the flip side, how can you easily win their favor?

Karasu: He would despise someone that broke his trust. In a romantic relationship, this would probably mean cheating (emotionally or physically). You can earn his favour by being genuine, honest, and kind without pushing him outside his comfort zone.

Azra: He hates being bossed around or talked down to. It's not hard getting on his good side though: he appreciates honesty, humor and authenticity. He gets tired of demons who only want to know him for his money or his looks.

Zekhan: He would hate someone who is pushy or doesn't respect his boundaries, especially when it comes to his personal space. However, if you want to get on his good side, the best thing you can do is be patient and kind with him. He'll warm up to you faster than you realize, even if he doesn't show it right away.

Metatron: It would be hard to like or forgive someone that manipulates him or betrays him in some way. Someone wanting to be friends should show an interest in books/learning and being open-minded.

Are they easy to read or do they mask their intentions perfectly? Are they manipulative? A good liar maybe? What are their tells?

Karasu: He hides a lot of his thoughts and feelings behind a screen. He's very reactive in-person and it's harder to hide his feelings, especially ones that lean towards the romantic. He's not a great liar.

Azra: He's perfected a bland, charming mask that allows him to fit in with the other powerful and popular demons in the Devildom. He's a good liar and he can be manipulative when it suits him. His eyes and hands will give away the first signs of anger or frustration he feels.

Zekhan: Poker face for days with most people. He's confident and authoritative and it's hard to get a reaction out of him. He can be manipulative but he avoids outright lies if he can. It's rare that something stuns or upsets him into silence. He will disappear (you think) if he's ruffled - but really, he's just watching you from somewhere close by and trying to figure out how to solve you like you're a very stubborn puzzle.

Metatron: He wears his heart on his sleeve. He's an optimistic the-glass-is-half-full, sees the best in everyone type of angel. He wouldn't want to manipulate anyone, but he could lie convincingly if it was important enough. (He will be very regretful later.)

OBEY ME MC & OC ASK GAME

[rolloollor]

Is it ok to ask a bit more of your loved ships in bio. I'd like to see what you say about Idoazu Jack/Leovil

Sure! I'm always down to ramble.

idoazu

This was my main ship before mallerollo popped up. Naturally, I have the most to say about them.

I started to love idoazu when I got to Azul's overblot. I assumed Jade and Floyd would fuck off when Azul was in trouble, but they stayed! I was like, "Oh my god, they love him..." or at least care about him. I was legitimately moved since I was sure they'd dip. I've read people comment on their relationship and that it's purely transactional. That the second Azul falters, the tweels will give him the boot or eat him alive or whatever. Certainly Azul seems to believe this. They say something similar to Jamil in book 4, but it's important to remember that characters can lie and they can lie to themselves. They had a chance to drop him with the overblot and they didn't. Actions speak louder than words, right, so I think it's more likely that they believe it's only transactional, but they do genuinely like each other.

Though this like doesn't mean that the tweels treat Azul all that nice... they fucked up his restaurant during book 6 for funsies. Jade is a huge weirdo and I bet he loves seeing Azul frustrated or pissed off. I love Jade so much... I'm not as big on Floyd, but he can be surprisingly normal when he wants to be. It is nice that Azul has been able to have events with both of his boyfriends and even one with Idia without the eels if you're into that.

I like how close they are and I like how they respect each other. They all know each other's strengths and they've been together for a while. To go on this go-on-land venture together I think is significant. The tweels were the first to 'support' Azul, even if it was mainly to have fun, and I'm sure Azul does feel a bit of fondness for them, even if he says it's all business. I also like how Azul is a bit afraid of them, but he knows them well enough to be able to make his schemes appealing to them. There's this ever-present atmosphere of danger. Both eels love to eat octopus, after all. They're predators and Azul has this balancing act he had to perform, but even if he slipped and they usurped his position, I think they'd keep him around anyway. Floyd uses Azul's name, after all, so he's on the same level as Jade.

I'm not that interested in tweelcest, though. I never got the appeal of twincest. They look the same... I like when there's some kind of contrast.

leovil

The main thing that jumps out at me is how well they know each other and how they respect the other. Leona picked Vil for his Tamashina event and Playful Land showed more of the way they understand each other. They know their weaknesses, too. Their relationship would be complicated and maybe volatile at times, but I think they could make it work if they wanted to. It's probably Leona who'd hold it back. I feel like Vil could encourage him to try harder, but it could easily cross into being really irritating for Leona. Maybe Leona could get Vil to chill out a little bit, who knows. The appeal for me, aside from the visual contrast, is that it's a relationship of equals.

jackvil is just really cute. They're both very driven, and they already jog together in the mornings... it could easily develop from there. There's something just so charming about this giga celebrity getting together with a random guy he knew briefly as a child. It's cute. I think Jack would be good for Vil, too, since he'd be extremely loyal and supportive. He'd also make a good househusband. I don't have as much like 'backing' for this one, it's simple and cute. Plus I'm sure Vil does have a soft spot for him. The story about them making snow stuff together was really charming.

Also I dabbled in rookvil for a while, but it's like... too easy? Like things are established already. The climax of the love story happened already, if you feel me? I also don't like Rook's home screen line from the Ghost Marriage event where he says he's fickle... It worries me. I'm not against the pair, it just doesn't intrigue me, I guess.

[mistress-of-crystals]

Unknown Waters Chapter 1

[Next]

Magecrage - Or Thaumaturay as it is sometimes referred to- is the act of recreation of mystics.

Mystics is the essence that comes from the root-A frustrated noise left the young woman’s mouth as she buried her face into her notebook.

‘Why does ‘magic’ in this world have to be so complicated?’ She thought to herself. The young woman removed her face from her notebook. ‘Even so, I need to continue on with this. Understanding this world will be beneficial to you and the Council when you return,’ She encouraged herself to continue on with her research.

The mage returned to the book on her lap to reread the paragraph that she had just wrote. Once she gathered all she could from that book she moved on to the next one. This continued for a few hours until she was disrupted by someone.

“Hey!” The person shouted from the end of the bookcase.

The sudden sound nearly caused the mage to drop the book that she had been reading. The mage put the book back on the shelf that she had taken it from. Holding onto her notebook the mage jumped off the ladder that she had been sitting on.

“The library is closed!” The man informed her. “This is unacceptable, you should know what time the library is open! What department are you from!? I need to inform your instructor so they can discipline you!” The man questioned her.

“None,” She smiled.

“What…?” He was stunned by her blatant confession.

“I’m not a member of the Clock Tower or the Association,” She told him.

The man stood there dumbfounded by the woman in front of him, grinning like an idiot. If she wasn’t a member of the Clock Tower or Mage’s Association how did she get past the Tower’s security? A fiendish smile across the blonde’s lips as watched the man trying to figure out how she got in.

“Well, it’s been nice chatting but I really need to go now,” She smiled at him.

It took the man a moment to process her words but it was already too late for him to act. The young woman was stepping back, swinging her arm forward as she did. As her arm was going forward she cast a spell in her closed hand that created a small clear crystal. Once her arm at a 45-angle, she release the crystal from the hand. The man’s eyes widened in surprise when he saw the small object.

“Illuminate!”

A light erupted from the crystal filling the space between the bookshelves. The man screamed as he covered his eyes from the blinding light. Taking that moment the young woman morphed into the shadows. Moving within the shadows she darted to a shadowy area quite away from the library but still in the Clock Tower, and waited. In the shadows she watched the mages racing to the library to investigate what had happened. 

“You do love causing trouble,” A voice told her.

“Now, now Death,” She playfully warned him. “This was the most ideal plan,” She told him.

“The ideal plan was to flash-banging the poor mage?” She heard him sarcastically say to her. “The actual ideal plan would have been just using me to retreat,” He scolded her.

“But then I would have shown my hand,” She told him. The mage sat down in the shadows, crossing her arms and legs. “This is a foreign world to us, Death. So we must keep all our tricks up our sleeve until we get a good grip on the situation,” She explained.

A sigh was her only reply from the spirit that inhabited the dark jewel around her neck. Hearing that the convention had ended, the mage looked up from the shadows to see that the cloak Tower was still in chaos so she summoned a book to read until it had quietened down and she could leave. Hours passed in the shadows before she could move out of the halls of the Clock Tower to an ally a few streets away. Where ‘Death’ melted of off her, revealing her brown-pinkish travelling cloak. Fixing the hood of her cloak making sure that it was covering her face before leaving the ally and mixing into the busy streets of Londinium.

[saikenakoego]

Said I was gonna do this later so here I am!!

I know nobody asked me but I'm gonna do it anyway. Because who's gonna stop me? Someone asking?

Hah!!

Im gonna do this with ALL my OC's. Because I can, and because I love all my little creations!

Starting with my currently favorite vampire gal!

Samantha Morales, a.k.a. Sammy Moors

vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv This gal vvvvvvvvvvvvvvv

With direct answers from the girl herself, for extra cringe roleplay. My favorite.

1. Do you sleep with a stuffed animal? If you have multiple, who's your favorite?

SM: I do sometimes. To try and remember what it felt to be human.

...

My favorite is my little green bunny. His name is Jacques.

2. Can you take care of a plant? What about a pet? Or a child?

SM: I can. But how well I'd do, can't tell. Being undead messes with your head a lot...

3. Can you describe your love interest?

SM: I could if I had one. Or if I could feel love. Or anything at all.

4. Do you look good in red?

SM: ...

SM: I prefer pink.

5. Speech, speech, speech! Will you give one? And what about?

SM: No. That kind of self-centered talk is for bloodsucker scum. You wouldn't catch me dead doing something as pretentious as that. They think they're so high and mighty, that they're superior to everything else. That they can take what they want and we'd never do anything about it. But they're nothing but insects, hiding away like cowards in the shadows while feeding off others like leeches. Disgusting and pathetic, weak little creatures unable to keep living by themselves. Parasites. Just the sight of them makes me want to rip them apart limb by limb, making them scream in agony as the life they've stolen leaves their body drop by drop, scurrying away and pleading for mercy as I crush their every bone to--

6. Who will you take advice from? And who WOULDN'T you take it from?

SM: I don't think anyone can really give me any advice that matters, but if I had to choose... Maybe Johnny. Kid's got a good head on his shoulders when it comes to the supernatural. Not like I need it though.

SM: But I'd never take advice from Silver. Too impulsive, and I already have me to worry about.

7. Describe yourself in three words

SM: Monster. Disgusting. Unsightly.

8. Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate you?

SM: I hate puzzles. Wastes of time.

9. Do you empathize with non-sentient things?

SM: More than empathize, I envy them. I'm already unable to feel anything, at least they get to not think about it either.

10. What age do you want to be the most right now?

SM: I wanna be 13 again. Go back to when everything was okay...

11. You won the lottery. Spend, or save?

SM: I dunno. Maybe spend? We do need more silver rounds...

12. Do you like romance in the books you read?

SM: I... I think I used to like it? I can't recall...

13. Name one thing your parents taught you.

SM: Family is everything.

14. Would you agree with the term 'guilty pleasure? Do you have any?

SM: I won't give in to it. I won't, no matter how good it smells. How delicious its crimson gleam looks. How it makes my mouth water at the mere thought of it, I won't. I won't. I won't I--

15. What would you consider a waste of time, other than school and work?

SM: Anything that's too complicated. I have all the time in the world, but every second I waste is another second they live.

16. If money wasn't a limit, what would you wear?

SM: I'n fine with my outfit. I think Silver would be someone better to ask this to.

17. Do you like children?

SM: No. They wound too frequently.

18. Kissing: Tongue or no tongue?

SM: No kissing. That's disgusting.

19. Do you study before tests?

SM: I haven't done any tests in 2 years.

20. What do you like that nobody else does?

SM: Rare meat in burgers isn't too bad... Don't tell Johnny I said that.

21. What would it take for you to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?

SM: Being a bloodsucker. Even if I can't feel anything, that's an immediate deal breaker.

22. Do you like being called pet names? Do you call others pet names? What's your go-to?

SM: I don't, but people have been calling me Sammy or Moors for so long that it feels weird when they don't do it. Old habits die hard, I guess. The only person I have a nickname for is Silver, and that's because he insists on being called Silver.

23. Stability or novelty?

SM: I've had my fill of novelty for a lifetime...

24. Honesty or charity?

SM: Honesty.

25. Safety or possibility?

SM: Safety.

26. Talent or effort?

SM: Effort.

27. Forgiveness or vengeance?

SM: VENGEANCE.

28. Would you date a fixer-upper?

SM: I'd rather not date anyone right now.

29. What recurring dreams do you have?

SM: The blood, it's everywhere... I'd rather not talk about it.

30. What would you do if you knew it would be forgiven?

SM: I... I'm not gonna answer that.

oc asks that reveal more than you think

Do they sleep with a stuffed animal? If they have multiple, who’s the favorite?

Can they take care of a plant? What about a pet? What about a child?

Ask them to describe their love interest.

Do they look good in red?

Speech! Speech! Speech! Speech! Will they give one, and what about?

Who will they take advice from, no matter what it is? Who won’t they take advice from, no matter what it is?

Describe them in three words. Now let them describe themself in three words.

Do complex puzzles intrigue or frustrate them?

Do they empathize with non-sentient things (dolls, plants, books…)?

What age do they most want to be right now?

They’ve won the lottery. Spend, or save?

Do they like romance in the books they read (or in the book they’re in)?

Name one thing their parents taught them.

Would they agree with the term ‘guilty pleasure’? Do they have any?

What would they consider a waste of time– other than school or work?

If money wasn’t a limit, what would they wear?

Do they like children?

Kissing: tongue or no tongue?

Do they study before tests? Practice before job interviews?

What do they like that nobody else does?

What would it take for them to break up with someone? What would be the last straw?

Do they like being called pet names? Do they call other people pet names? What’s their go-to?

Stability or novelty?

Honesty or charity?

Safety or possibility?

Talent or effort?

Forgiveness or vengeance (or…)?

Would they date a fixer-upper?

What recurring dreams do they have?

What would they do if they knew it would be forgiven?

Support the author: all writing | book | ko-fi | Patreon

[lonita]

Infinitea(se) (1)

Reading Infinite Jest for a book club.

Not five feet away from me sat a well-known local musician also reading a book by someone who'd committed suicide - a Russian man who'd witnessed the revolution and ended his time by hanging himself. Heavy poems in translation about the bloodshed, the ugliness. He too was young, just 30 years old.

The upfront presence (2) of suicide in IJ is a little unsettling, but the methods are vastly more than that. They are not quick and clean. They are ragged, odd and … I want to say grandiose, but that has a taint unsuited to what I want to convey. They loom, they seem theatrical, complicated. The description of James Incandenza's suicide sat in my belly not entirely unlike how beer does when you're not in quite the right mood for it - swimmingly, seasickly, a life of its own crawling the sides of your stomach. Joelle's suicidal situation was lacking in certitude. I couldn't help but think that perhaps she didn't quite want to mean it, that she didn't quite want to do it, that she wanted to be stopped or found or found out - she chooses, after all, to perform the ritual in someone's home during a party.

I suppose I've always thought of this sort of personal escape as wanting to be private and quick; that you would want it to be over as soon as it could be; that you would want to be certain it would work; that you would not want to be invaded at one of the more personal moments in a person's existence.

I am speaking from the perspective of someone who only had a minor flirtation with this idea of endings when she was 17 and, so she thought, being eaten alive by gargantuan angst. I don't know that I was even that serious about it. I am certain I was not; but, I was unhappy, confused, and rudderless. I do not, therefore, have that special insight into such things which might help me in better comprehending the need to end things, and end them in a certain fashion.

People keep talking about the difficulty in reading IJ, the difficulty in waiting (wading) through until the point where they realise they are hooked, that it's good, that they are enjoying it (3) - like my stuffed vine leaves there, which look awful to some, but reveal a hidden deliciousness when you bite through the slight toughness of the leafy binding. I think there are people out there who are not enjoying the book, you can smell it between the lines of what they say - cagey carefulness, talking about what they're reading without coming right out and saying it. It is difficult, can be difficult, in the face of so much overt enthusiasm to voice a dissenting view; like trying to tell a room full of Tolkien fans that you think Lord of the Rings is a load of crap, or that Tolkien was a lousy writer. And that's fair enough, not to like it. It won't suit everyone.

Am I enjoying the book? In parts; in other parts, not so much. I am not even certain I like this book, but I am compelled by it, fascinated by some of it, frustrated by it, astounded and annoyed. It is hard to wade through some of it. For me, the hardest bits are the scenes with Steeply and Marathe (although I must admit to being highly amused by Steeply's female accountrements and their visible journey around his person), and the section on Eschaton. The parts I've most enjoyed (so far) are the sections on addiction and Madame Psychosis; the heart-wrenching situation of Poor Tony and his coming down off heroin (which, of course, made me think of the similar parts in Trainspotting); the page(s) of facts (if Fizzies existed, I'd be tempted to attempt it); and the rather depressing situation of the eight-baller's stillborn infant.

I am at the July 31st milestone, a little behind but catching up quickly. And, feelings aside, I will wait til I've had all the parts before making a final pronouncement on the whole.

(1) Infinitease: The hooks that get you to keep going.

(2) As another Infinite Reader pointed out, though, DFW doesn't introduce you to something and then start talking about it, he just starts talking about it. There is no preamble, no ease-in - it's just there.

(3) Infinite Jestation: the length of time after you start reading the book before you realise that you're hooked, that you like it, or that it has you whether you like it or not.

2025 05 24: For the record, I loathed Infinite Jest.

[mermaidsiren4444]

Keepers of the Forbidden Cities - Mr. Moose

Hello everyone! Now for the moment we've been waiting for! Or...At least I've been waiting for lol, Alex's proper introduction scene ○( ＾皿＾)っ Hehehe…. I know it's shorter than most of my other chapters but I was lacking inspiration.

Also, because there isn't much to go on regarding the Gusting ability, I'm taking some inspiration from Shannon's other book, Let The Sky Fall. If you haven't read the series, everything will be explained as the story goes on. It's nothing too complicated. :-)

KOTLC Belongs to Shannon Messenger

Oc's belong to me.

"You must take personal responsibility. You cannot change the circumstances, the seasons, or the wind, but you can change yourself. That is something you have charge of."

- Jim Rohn

Maine, USA

Ashlynn sighed in relief when she realized it was just Alex, clad in his neatly pressed matching black short-sleeved pajama set and sitting in her fluffy white chair in the corner of her room by the entrance, "You scared me, Alex!" Ashlynn said, glaring at him, and quickly shut her curtains.

"Yeah and you scared me into thinking you ran off somewhere without me," Alex said and Ashlynn glanced back.

Even with his casual tone, she knew he wasn't joking. She knew he was hurt, and he looked... guilty, but she might have just been imagining it. But after the long day she had just had, combined with the lighthouse scare, she wasn't in the mood to care.

Sighing, she turned around, "Look I just went down to the lighthouse. I just needed some air after today." Ashlynn snapped as she hurriedly went into her closet to change.

As much as she wanted to pretend she was fine, she wasn't. The shadowy figure at the lighthouse bothered her for some reason and Ashlynn couldn't quite understand why.

A creak coming from her room indicated that as much as she hoped Alex had left, he had settled on lying on her bed. Ashlynn quickly put on her matching moose-covered blue pajama set and shuffled back into the bedroom to see exactly what she thought she heard.

Alex was sprawled out, belly up, taking up the entire bed as he cuddled with Mr. Moose and faked an obnoxious—but thankfully not a loud—snore. Ashlynn snickered as she spotted the pillows lying next to her feet.

"Vengeance is so sweet, " she whispered, grabbing one and raising it above her head before bringing it down onto Alex's stomach with a whack.

"Hey!" Alex exclaimed and Ashlynn quickly shushed him, not bothering to hide her own amusement or laughter, "Oh now you're going to get it!" Alex exclaimed-whispered as he grabbed onto the pillow she just whacked him with and threw it at her.

Ashlynn ducked in enough time to avoid getting hit in the face by the pillow, she grabbed another one and then smacked him again.

"Do you surrender?" Ashlynn whispered as she held up the pillow as a threat, "Yes! Yes! I surrender!" Alex stated, holding up his hands in the air.

"That's what I thought," Ashlynn said as she smiled triumphantly and placed the pillow down on the bed. Alex scooted over to the end, "Ash...I'm sorry about what happened today." He said, finding his feet very interesting.

Ashlynn frowned and shrugged her shoulders, "It happened...I can't do anything about it now...besides it wasn't your fault, it was my fault...somehow." Ashlynn stated with a frown.

Alex sighed and ran a hand through his neatly combed blonde hair, "I just hate this...I hate this place, the way people treat us, the same things over and over again. I hate the way mom uses us." Alex growled out of frustration and punched the pillow next to him.

Ashlynn frowned and furrowed her brows in confusion, "Come on grumpy grouper, you're not the one that's grounded until my grandkids go to college, but the joke's on mom, my grandkids are going to be super smart and go to college at like age 5!" Ashlynn said and poked his side.

Alex let out a laugh, "There's that smile, you've been on edge lately, want to get anything off your mind?" Ashlynn asked him. Alex frowned and his fists clenched, "I...Ash...I can't." he said, stood up, and walked out of the room without another word, leaving Ashlynn even more confused at his behavior, "Do you know what was about Mr. Moose?" Ashlynn asked looking at the stuffed moose sitting on her pillow.

She didn't expect a reply, it was a stuffed moose after all. But it still didn't help all of the questions swirling around in her mind.

Why was he apologizing for something that she had 'supposedly' done?

Who was at the lighthouse earlier that night?

Why would Alex say that their mother was 'using' them?

Why was Alex acting so...strange?

A headache started to form the more and more Ashlynn started to think about those things. Ashlynn grabbed Mr. Moose and shut off her light, those questions would have to be prioritized later, Ashlynn's muscles ached from the run and exhaustion had set in. The day's events ran through her mind like a CD placed on repeat.

As she was drifting off to sleep, Ashlynn felt the wind swirl around her room, it felt different than the wind she experienced on her run.

It was warm and it carried the scent of the salty ocean. She felt the wind caress her face, wrapping around her and enveloping her like a warm blanket. The wind itself was intoxicating, pure bliss, it would have been so easy to drift off into the sweet wandering drag.

Ashlynn listened to the soft melancholy hum. It sounded lost and sad, much like she was feeling at the moment.

Instead of letting the memories of the day bring her to tears, she let herself be swept off to dreamland by the wind, listening to sweet promises of warmth and safety envelop her.

Preface

Prologue

Chapter One - Trespassing with Permission

Chapter Two - Mr. Moose - You are here

Chapter Three - A Stranger in a New Land

Chapter Four - Girl Meets Elf

#keeper of the lost cities

[ellesliterarycorner]

Writing Scenes Out of Order

Gonna be honest with y'all, I have never ever written a story completely in order. I am actually incapable of doing that. Even though I write the most detailed outlines known to man before I even think about writing, I still can’t write the scenes in order. I swear by this because I sincerely believe that writing scenes out of order increases my productivity which I’ll talk about later. Even if you haven’t done this before, I recommend everyone try it at least once, so without further ado, here are a few reasons that you should write your stories out of order. 

You Can Write The Ending First

When you write your scenes in order, generally that means that you’re going to write the ending last. In my experience, the ending is one of the most important things in your story, so I recommend that even if you write everything else in order, always write the ending first. Writing the ending first always gives you a light at the end of the tunnel. It gives you a destination to eventually reach. Even when you feel like your story is going absolutely nowhere, it allows you to go back and see what you want the ending to look like from the beginning which should help your motivation and hopefully lessen that pesky writer’s block!

Oh, Those Continuity Issues 

Continuity issues are the absolute worst. I can never seem to remember the way that I described stuff at the end of the book when I’m writing everything back at the beginning. One thing that does get frustrating about writing scenes out of order, is keeping up with continuity like what season it is, what characters have already met, and even who is alive and dead at certain points. Writing scenes in order eliminates these issues because you are writing everything in the order that it happens. I would most definitely recommend keeping an outline or at least a sheet of notes when you’re writing scenes out of order, so that you can keep yourself organized and lessen the continuity issues that you have to go back and fix in later drafts!

You Can Follow Your Inspiration

I plot every scene out extensively, but if I do have an idea for a scene, I immediately write it down and worry about where it fits into the story later. For me, this increases my motivation because at least I'm writing something even if it wasn't in my original outline. Every story has scenes that aren't the most interesting, and as writers, those can be the hardest scenes to write. Especially if you write all of the interesting scenes first, you won't have anything to look forward to when you're struggling through the more transitional parts of the story. This is just my opinion, but whenever I write in chronological order, my motivation goes down a lot. I like writing whatever scenes I want to write instead of writing what comes next in the story. Knowing that I can write whatever scene I want to next makes me super excited about writing

Sprinkle In That Foreshadowing

Y’all know how much I love me some well done foreshadowing. It’s simply one of the best things about reading and writing. But, writing foreshadowing can be really complicated if you aren’t sure how the story ends or even how the foreshadowing will fit into the story later. Because I normally write the ending scenes first, when I finally get around to writing the beginning scenes, I can easily sprinkle in little bits of foreshadowing or allusions to later scenes. It also helps me not overly foreshadow anything because I can go to the end and make sure I'm not doing too much.