#hopefully it kind of looks like a willow tree??

[theerastour]

drawtober day 4: willow | @taylortober | shop prints

willow tree | low-key ts

[dngrs-untld-hrshps-unnmbrd]

Mating Season

Halsin x Female Reader | sexual frustration | sexual tension | growly bear halsin | totally adoring halsin | horny bear mating instincts | semi-shifted sex | fluff | smut | nsfw

How Halsin’s romance might have played out if we could have had his kisses, adoration, and been totally railed senseless by Oak Daddy from the end of Act I. An ode to Halsin’s hairy chest, big arms, and the vein that I know stands out so thickly on his *muffled horny noises*

After a long and tiring day of fighting off goblins as you search for the Githyanki Crèche, you groan in relief as you sink into the cool waters of the river. Everyone else is back at camp and you’re able to enjoy the currents swirling around your naked body. 

You float in the water, thinking about how much your party has grown in the past few weeks. First Shadowheart, Gale, and Astarion, then Lae’zel, Wyll, and Karlach, and finally Halsin, the wildshape druid you rescued from the goblins. He’s a focused member of the group, a valuable healer, and an unstoppable force in battle. You occasionally feel things turning against you in a fight, and then Halsin is there, supporting the group and laying down swathes of flame, lightning and ice. His bear shape never fails to strike fear into the hearts of your enemies. 

Around the fire at night, he talks openly about his quest to free the Shadow-Cursed lands, his admiration for the party, and his praise for your leadership. His gentle words about you have your body prickling with awareness of his. 

That warm smile of his. His large and clever hands. His deep, gentle voice. Everything about this man makes you tingle all the way down to your toes. Whenever you think his gaze is lingering on your mouth, he murmurs goodnight to you and leaves your side. You watch him go, wishing that instead he would reach out and touch you.

An angry, snarling sound fills the air and you sit up in the water. Not far from you, an enormous bear, grunting and breathing hard, walks heavily down the riverbank. It’s huge, and its muscular body blocking out the setting sun, and from the noises it's making and its attitude, it’s a hair's-breadth from lashing out at anything that moves. 

You freeze, not daring even to breathe, hoping with everything you have that the animal will turn around and head back the other way. Instead, it launches itself into the water with an almighty splash. 

As it disappears beneath the surface, you notice a faint scar over the bear’s right eye, as if it’s been clawed. You recognize that scar. 

Wait, is this--

Golden light flashes. The water seethes. A man stands up where there was a bear just moments ago, water cascading from his body. Halsin, and he must have stripped before he changed into wildshape for now he’s completely naked, standing hip-deep in the water. 

He’s partly turned away from you but you can tell his manner is no less worked up than it was in bear form. He swipes his hands angrily through his dripping hair and breathes hard, the muscles of his shoulders and arms clenched in frustration. 

Halsin is one of the gentlest-natured men you’ve ever met, most of the time. Like nature, he too can be wild, his eyes flashing and his voice breaking like thunder over you when he’s frustrated or disappointed, such as when he was remonstrating Kagha for the Rite of Thorns. How magnificent he was that day. 

But what is he restless for now? He stands in the water, looking around at the forest, gripped with frustration, and when he turns a little more your way you can see that the root of his cock is thickened in a tell-tale manner. 

Ah. 

That kind of frustration. 

You quietly make your way to the edge of the river where a willow tree is trailing in the water, moving as carefully and as quietly as you can. This feels like a private moment you’re intruding on. Even though you don’t mean to spy, it feels like you are. The fronds of the willow provide a little cover for you, and hopefully Halsin will cool off and leave the way he came. 

The dice do not roll your way this evening as he approaches you, seeking deeper water. A moment later, your gazes lock, and his eyes widen in surprise.

‘What are you doing there?’

‘I wasn’t spying on you,’ you tell him quickly. ‘I thought you needed some peace, so I was waiting here quietly.’

His eyes run over you, your back pressed against the river bank and cowering amid the willow leaves. 

Halsin heaves a regretful sigh. ‘I frightened you, didn’t I? I am sorry. It’s all right, I am myself again.’ 

He smiles and holds out his hand. It’s a tight smile, like he’s forcing it for you, but you’re no longer worried a bear is about to disembowel you.  

You place your cool fingers into his large, hot ones and let him draw you slowly out of your hiding place. The water is deep enough here that your nakedness is covered, and so is his.

You relax as you gaze up at him, enjoying the sensation of Halsin holding your hand. Quietly enjoying the sight of his bare chest and handsome face. You hope he might walk you into the shallows so you can be naked together, but he remains in deep water, sunk in thought.

‘The river is yours. I’ll leave you to enjoy it,’ you murmur, and glance to where you left your clothes. 

Halsin’s fingers are still tightly twined through yours beneath the water. He seems to be in a world of his own as he gazes at your mouth, your throat, the droplets of water sliding through your wet hair and down your shoulders. A world that includes you. A world where you’re touching one another. 

‘Halsin?’ you ask tentatively. Hopefully. If he wants to move closer and kiss you, that’s more than okay with you. After a long and dusty day, there’s nothing you’d like more than exploring his body in the cool water. That hairy chest of his. His hard muscles. You long to run your tongue over him. Flex your fingers on his biceps. Trace the red tattoo on his cheek.

Halsin comes back into himself with a deep inhale, and he lets go of your hand. ‘Then I’ll see you back at camp.’ He moves away from you through the currents. 

As you push the water from your body and dress in your clothes, you search for Halsin in the river, but he’s disappeared around a bend. 

***

Later around the campfire, you’re hyper aware of Halsin as you talk with Gale about his home in Baldur’s Gate. Halsin is silent, the campfire flickering over his handsome face. You try not to pay him any more attention than you do the others, but your interest in him has spilled over into blazing attraction.

Your gazes lock and Halsin’s brows are drawn tightly together. 

Is he glaring at you? 

A moment later he gets to his feet and, unnoticed by the others, slips away into the darkness. Something’s eating at that man and you wish you knew what.

A short time later, you take a bottle down to the river to refill it with water before turning and heading for your bed. As you round the corner of the ruin where you’ve made your camp, you run straight into Halsin. 

His eyes widen and they flare with heat and surprise, and then he quickly looks away and moves past you.

‘Have I done something to make you angry with me?’ you call after him. 

Halsin stops dead. He stares straight ahead for a moment, and then slowly turns to you, shaking his head. ‘Far from it. I am worked up and frustrated, but not with anger.’

Maybe his frustrations are because of you, and that’s a thought you don’t know what to do with when he keeps avoiding you. 

Not knowing what else to say, you tell him, ‘We will free the Shadow-Cursed lands soon. I know we will.’

He breathes out heavily, his expression troubled. ‘I’m not thinking of the Shadow-Curse right now, even though I should be. It is more important than anything I...’ He trails off, but his gaze lingers on your mouth. ‘...want.’

Halsin steps closer, and you feel the heat blazing off his chest. His warmth and bulk are so welcoming and you crave to reach out and touch him. The backs of his fingers caress your hair. The lightest of touches. Then he takes a handful of your hair and dips his head, bringing the strands to his nose. 

‘You smell wonderful.’ He heaves a deep sigh, and whispers, ‘Can I hold you for a moment?’

That sounds lovely to you, and you nod. 

Halsin wraps an arm around your waist, scoops you against him, and buries his face in your neck. ‘By Silvanus, your scent is sweet,’ he groans. ‘I caught it when we first met, in that foul goblin nest. How it pleased me. Getting to know you these past few weeks has been even sweeter.’

Your hands are plastered against his chest and so is your body. He’s saying everything you hoped to hear. More than you hoped to hear. He has such a beautiful way with words. You turn your head so he can kiss you, but he still refrains. 

Taking a ragged breath, he releases you and steps back. ‘I’m sorry. It’s always difficult this time of year.’

You miss his warmth so much that you shiver. ‘What time of year?’

He gazes at you for a long time. ‘You may laugh, but I’ll tell you. It’s bear mating season.’

You don’t laugh, but your eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

‘I know--I’m no bear,’ Halsin says with a laugh of his own, ‘but I spend so much time in wildshape that bear instincts tug on my heart and...other parts of me. I return to my own form and unfortunately the needs do not dissipate. In fact, they worsen, because it is not a bear I want. When she comes close to me smelling like spring and honey and warm sunshine I can’t help but crave her.’ A smile glimmers on his lips.

Enough being vague. You want to hear him say it. You step closer and put a hand against his chest. ‘A general someone, or anyone in particular?’

He groans softly and captures your face in his hands. He drinks you in and swipes his thumb across your lips. The gesture is soft, and full of the promise of his kiss.

‘You are someone I admire and I think I could grow to care deeply about,’ he murmurs. ‘I care about you so much already. Any little scratch you receive I want to push Shadowheart out of the way and tend to you myself.’

Your heart soars.

‘But this isn’t how or when I wanted to begin anything with you. I have to walk away.’

Disappointment plummets through you. 

He’s still holding your face and his expression is conflicted. It seems he wants to put an end to this for now but can’t bring himself to do it. 

‘I can walk away, if that helps?’

His eyes fill with gratitude and longing. ‘Please. That would be a mercy. Know that when the time comes, I will come to you with more than lust in my heart.’

You nod, trailing your fingers down his chest as you step back, but you fail to see what’s wrong with him desiring you. ‘Whatever you need. Of course.’

‘I hope I haven’t offended you.’

You smile gently at him. ‘Your desire is so far from offensive. Please know that I don’t demand more of your attention than you’re willing to give. The Shadow Cursed lands are your priority and I’m...’ How to put this delicately? I’m here for you and you can rail me senseless in between your duties whenever you want to let off steam. That’s what you want to say, but you’re too shy to say it. ‘...Here. Your friend. Always.’

Halsin seems to catch your meaning anyway as his jaw flexes and he nods slowly. 

You promised him you would walk away, and you do, and though you give him ample time to allow him to pull you back, the next sound you hear is a clash and a growl, and a flare of golden light. When you glance over your shoulder, a bear is thundering into the woods on all fours. 

***

A few days later, you’re returning to camp feeling like you’ve been put through a meat grinder, and your companions haven’t fared much better. Gale is unusually silent and covered in blood. Shadowheart is exhausted and dragging her feet. You’re trying not to limp because she and Halsin have already cast so much healing magic. Something’s wrong with your leg, but you’ll see to it yourself when you’re alone. 

The others bid you tired farewells as they head for their tents, but someone catches your arm and holds you back.

‘Oak Father, you’re bleeding. Why didn’t you say anything?’ 

Halsin is staring at your legs, and you stare with him. Blood is pooling around your foot. Oh, that’s not good. 

‘I can tend to it myself after I’ve had some rest--’

Your words are cut off as the massive druid picks you up in his arms and carries you into a crumbling barn. Automatically, you wrap your arms around his neck and lean against the solid bulk of his chest. Halsin lays you down on a pallet and helps you remove your armour, revealing a ragged gash on the top of your thigh. Your clothes have to be cut away until your legs are bare.

Halsin looks exhausted and has dark circles under his eyes. It seems he’s been taking little rest as he roams the forests nightly as a bear. When he reaches for you to lay healing hands on your wound, you place a hand on his wrist.

‘You don’t have to do this right now. I’ll bandage myself up and someone can heal me after they’ve rested.’

Halsin raises challenging eyebrows at you. ‘You believe I don’t have the strength to heal you myself? That I’ll walk away from the most important person in my life and leave her bleeding?’

You moisten your lips, trying not to show how much his words have affected you. The most important person in his life? Suddenly you don’t feel injured at all, and he hasn’t even healed you yet.

‘I have more than enough magic left for this. Now, lay back and let me do my work, and then you can get back to yours.’

You settle back on the pallet and gaze at the cobwebby rafters. Halsin’s hands hover over your thigh, and a warm, delicious feeling spreads through your leg, and then up between your thighs. Your head falls back in relief and pleasure. 

Even Halsin makes a surprised noise. ‘That felt...’ He rubs your now-healed high, massaging the last of the tension and pain from your muscles. ‘That felt different. How’s your thigh now?’ 

You can’t help but moan and arch your back a little at his touch. ‘Good.’ Your voice comes out in a breathy whisper.

‘Just good?’ He strokes his palm over where there was a cut just moments ago. 

‘Halsin, please, you make me feel heavenly,’ you whimper. The words pass your lips without thinking. You reach up to take hold of his shoulders so you can pull him down to kiss you, but pull back before you can touch him. 

This isn’t what he wants. Your hands clench on the pallet, feeling your core ache with need. As soon as he leaves, you can get yourself off thinking about him. 

‘Would you like me to go?’ he asks softly. 

‘I never want you to go.’

His hand rests lightly on your leg. 

You open your eyes and gaze up at him, and he’s sitting so close to you. ‘But if you stay, you’re going to see me touching myself.’ Then you smile at him, remembering your last conversation. ‘I would love for you to see that. As a friend.’

You want him to see you. You want him to participate.

He smiles and leans down to you, and runs the blade of his nose up your cheek. ‘I can’t think of anything more wonderful after a long, hard day, my dear friend.’

Halsin lays down beside you and props his head against his fist. With gentle fingers, he helps you to drag your underwear down your legs and cast them aside. As your teeth sink into your lower lip, you gently touch yourself, your eyes on his handsome face. Halsin strokes your thighs, your stomach, finds the fastenings on your clothes and loosens them. As he pulls back your bodice, revealing your breasts, he lowers his head to take one of your nipples in his mouth. 

You cry out and flex up into him. Heat is gathering within you. You suck on your lower lip and release it. ‘Please--your fingers--I need--’ you manage between pants. You can barely get the words out, but he understands. Halsin drags two fingers through your sex, making them slippery, and then sinks them inside you. 

Another loud cry from you. Gods, he feels perfect.

Halsin groans and kisses your throat, murmuring, ‘You’re so tight around me. Have you been as frustrated as I am?’ He pumps his thick fingers in and out of you, slowly at first, and then faster.

Yes you have, the godsdamned stubborn bear of man. He should have pulled you into his arms that day in the river and let you suck all the frustration from his body out through his cock. 

‘So frustrated,’ you whimper. ‘Please, that feels so good. Don’t stop, please don’t stop.’ 

He brushes his lips over yours. ‘I won’t stop. You’re always so beautiful, but like this, all of nature pales in comparison.’

You reach down and lay your hand over his wrist, adoring the tension and flex of his muscles in his arm as he moves inside you. Your fingers keep moving on your clit as you moan and cry out his name, and when you come you dig your nails into his flesh, and press your feet into the ground so he can fuck you even harder with his fingers.

When you fall back exhausted, Halsin sits up and spreads your thighs open, trailing his fingers over your sex and drinking in the sight of you as you catch your breath. ‘Your body is wondrous.’ He leans over and kisses you, his tongue caressing yours. ‘Will you rest well tonight?’ 

You nod, feeling drunk from his kiss and your climax. 

He smiles. ‘Then I’ll rest well too, knowing that you’re sleeping soundly. Thank you for sharing this beautiful moment with me.’

As he sits up, you notice that he’s hard inside his tight pants. Excessively hard. Huge in fact. He shouldn’t be leaving, he should be pulling off his clothes and pounding the living daylights out of you until he also gets the release he needs. 

But he’s gone before you can call him back to you. That’s not why he just blew your mind, was it? He healed you, and now he wants you to get some rest. Druid’s orders, apparently. 

You smile and roll over, and fall into a doze. 

***

The next morning, before anyone has arisen, Halsin finds you coming back from the river. You smile at him, thinking he looks so handsome in the morning light, and you expect him to keep moving past you. Instead, he stops and smiles at you, as if basking in the sight of you is all he wants right now. 

‘May I have a kiss?’ you ask hopefully. Perhaps he’s decided not to want anything for himself right now, but he still wants to make you happy. 

Without needing to be asked twice, Halsin grasps you around the waist with his large hands and walks you back against the wall, kissing you enthusiastically. ‘I can still smell you on my fingers this morning. I could smell you all night. You are a delight.’

Your lips part for his so he can kiss you even deeper. With your arms around his neck, you revel in the sensation of his mouth on yours. 

‘I find you irresistible.’ Another kiss. ‘But we have much to do today.’ Another kiss. 

‘We do,’ you say, smiling as he kisses you again. 

He gazes down at you for a moment, a slight frown between his brows. ‘If you need more, know that I won’t be offended if you take another lover. Nature intends for us to roam and be free.’

You have considered that, if not someone at camp, then a handsome stranger at a tavern, but you’d only be thinking about Halsin the whole time. ‘And if I don’t want to?’

‘You must do as pleases you,’ he replies, and kisses you again.

You guess that he didn’t tell you this for idle reasons, but to let you know about his own preferences. You reach up and stroke your fingers through his russet hair. ‘I have always wanted my own person, but to roam with them. Share everything with them. I would miss you too much if I was to roam without you.’

He smiles down at you. ‘Us, with others? I would like that, in time. You’re more than enough for me, but I wouldn’t wish for you to be denied anything. Seeing you with another lover, and participating as well...it sounds wonderful.’ Then he steps away from you. ‘But we are getting ahead of ourselves. My thoughts turn to other things for now. But they will turn back to you.’

With a final warm squeeze of your hand, he leaves you, but your heart is lighter than it’s been in a long time. 

***

Two nights later, you’re awoken by snarling and roaring in the distance, and you sit bolt upright. It sounds like two large animals are fighting in the woods. 

Only Astarion is awake. ‘What a ridiculous racket,’ he mutters with a scowl, before licking his thumb and turning the page of the book he’s reading. 

You look over at Halsin’s pallet, knowing it’s going to be empty before you lay eyes on it, but your stomach drops just the same when you see that it is. You scramble to your feet and set off at a run into the darkness. 

You follow the roaring and snarling and it doesn’t take long to find two bears fighting with teeth bared and swipes of their claws. You recognise Halsin from the scars over his eye.

What can you do to help him? A spell? A cantrip?  

Before you can decide, Halsin swipes the other bear so hard across the snout that it reels back, and then turns and runs away into the woods. 

Halsin paces up and down for a moment, and then golden light ripples, nearly blinding you, and when you open your eyes again, he’s striding toward you. His chest is heaving and blood is pouring from scratches and bites across his shoulders and throat. Nothing life threatening, but he’d be in pain if he wasn’t so angry.

‘That bear was looking for a mate, and I wasn’t having it prowling around her when I haven’t even tasted her myself.’

Halsin when he’s feeling himself wouldn’t say something so uncharacteristically possessive. It must be the mating season instincts overriding his natural feelings. ‘That bear wouldn’t have been interested in me.’ Also, you could have tasted me by now if you’d wanted to.

He doesn’t seem to have heard you as he glares into the darkness. Suddenly, he rounds on you. ‘It’s dangerous out here. You shouldn’t have come. Go back to bed.’

You fold your arms and stay where you are. The big alpha bear can throw his weight around, but that doesn’t mean you’re going to jump to obey his commands. ‘Shouldn’t have come? Would you have ignored me if I was being attacked in the woods?’

Halsin takes a deep breath and some of the anger melts from his face. He pushes his hands through his hair and shakes his head. ‘Of course not, I would never abandon you like that. Thank you for coming out here to help me. I promise I’m not ungrateful. I’m all out of sorts because...’ He gestures vaguely at himself and the woods around you both. 

You smile at him. ‘I know. It’s mating season.’

You help him pick dirt and gravel out of his cuts before he casts healing magic on himself, but you’re not ready to leave him and go to bed. The river is close by and you take his hand and lead him to the water. 

‘Let’s wash the blood and dirt off you.’

At the riverbank, hesitantly you reach for his clothes. He says nothing but he’s watching you with such intensity, and so you find the fastenings and help him out of them. With gentle fingers, he does the same for you. The night air is warm and still. Crickets are chirping and the river makes gentle rushing noises. The two of you are standing so close that you’re breathing each other’s breaths. His massive chest lifts and falls. Your nipples tighten with awareness of him. You don’t want to stare but you can’t help but look at this beautiful man as you undress him. 

Halsin helps you out of your underwear, and his cock bumps against your thigh. He’s so hard that he’s standing to attention, his foreskin drawn back, a drop of pre-cum at the tip. Your mouth waters, and you want to run your tongue along the thick vein that stands out on his shaft.

‘Sorry. Ignore me,’ he mutters. 

You don’t want to ignore the most beautiful cock you’ve ever seen, but you keep your hands to yourself and look up at him. ‘I want to feel flattered. Should I feel flattered?’

‘You know I think you’re wonderful,’ he breathes, caressing your face. 

Oh, by all the gods, then fuck me, please. 

‘Would you want me even if it wasn’t mating season?’

‘Of course I would, though I’d probably be better at keeping that to myself. You wouldn’t awaken to hear me fighting other bears in the woods, or see me staring at you with longing across the campfire. I’d still feel the same way, but I wouldn’t be so obvious about it. Probably.’

‘Do you mind that mating season makes you feel and act this way?’

He smiles and shakes his head. ‘It is who I am, and another connection I have to nature.’

‘Halsin. For a wildshape druid who believes in going with what’s natural, you’re very stubborn about resisting what your body is telling you it wants.’

A smile curves his lips. ‘You may be right. I’ve told myself that focusing on the Shadow Curse is the right and only thing to do, but...’

Halsin ducks his head and slants his mouth over yours. The kiss is so fierce and sudden, and pleasure takes a swan dive through your body. He wraps his arms around you and gathers you to him.

‘This isn’t how I imagined things between us,’ he murmurs. ‘I intended to come to you after the curse is lifted and declare my feelings for you, and tell you that my unburdened heart is yours.’ 

‘Please still do that,’ you breathe, planting soft kisses again and again on his mouth. ‘I would love that. But don’t walk away from me now.’ 

‘You want me, even though my mind is often on things other than you?’

What a romantic Halsin is, wanting to give you his whole heart at once, or nothing at all. ‘Of course I do,’ you tell him, your fingers stroking his bare back. You don’t need that declaration yet. You just need him. 

Halsin lifts you in his arms and carries you into the water, gazing into your eyes. The water flows around your bodies as he kisses you and places you on your feet.

He nods at something over your shoulder. ‘I have to taste you. Turn around and put your hands on that rock.’

You do as he asks, standing thighs-deep in the water and bent over with your hands braced against the river bank. Halsin kneels down in the water and cups your ass. 

‘So beautiful...’ You feel his tongue run up your sex, and you moan and close your eyes. He’s slow and languorous about it. Not trying to make you come, just tasting you thoroughly and enjoying the sensation of you against his tongue. 

Halsin stands up and when you glance over your shoulder you see him gazing at your sex as he strokes you with his fingers and fists his cock slowly up and down. 

‘Can I have you, sweet one?’ he asks huskily. 

‘Please, gods, yes .’ You’ll go crazy if he holds back a moment longer.

You feel him step closer, and the blunt head of his cock slides against your slippery entrance. He feels alarmingly thick and you take a deep breath and try to relax. 

With a muttered oath, he sinks into you. As much of him as he can, anyway. Gods, he’s a lot . You walk your feet apart, trying to accommodate more of him. 

‘Too much?’ he asks, hesitating. 

You shake your head desperately. ‘Not too much. More, please.’

He fucks you slowly, working himself deeper by delicious increments, while your cries fill the night air along with his ragged breathing. His blunt nails scratch your flesh. He roughly squeezes handfuls of your ass. 

You reach down between your legs and touch yourself, and you grow wetter and wetter, allowing him to fuck you in long, smooth strokes. Every single one makes your insides light up. Your orgasm is barrelling down on you surprisingly fast. 

‘Please, fuck me hard, I’m going to come,’ you beg him. 

Halsin groans and takes your hips in a secure grip and slams into you, over and over, hard, brutal and heavenly thrusts. You push against the rock to hold you steady as a wild, untamable sensation crashes over you, and you cry out loud enough for the whole forest to hear you. 

Your head is hanging low and you’re panting as you feel Halsin draw out of you.

‘But you haven’t come,’ you protest, straightening up and turning around. It’s what you want, to see and feel this beautiful man let go. 

He takes your hand and helps you out of the river. ‘I’m not done with you yet.’

He lays back on the grass and pulls you astride him so your thighs are straddling him. ‘I want to see you like this as well.’

Hungry for more, you grasp his cock and sink down his length. Halsin groans and his head tips back, and he squeezes both your breasts in his large hands. His throat is so beautiful, and so is his chest. You draw patterns in his chest hair as you move up and down his length. 

Weeks of frustration and wanting him haven’t been fulfilled by one climax, and soon you feel another one gathering within you. He watches you with a smile as you desperately moan and pant his name. As your cries reach a crescendo, Halsin plants his feet securely against the ground and pushes sharply up into you, over and over, making you shatter around him even harder than before.

You collapse forward on his chest, weakened and helpless, his cock still lodged deep inside you. 

‘That was wonderful,’ you moan, your cheek plastered against his chest. ‘Give me a moment and we can change positions. I’m not stopping until you come.’

He rubs circles on your back. ‘I think I might shift into wildshape if we keep going. I can feel the need getting stronger and stronger.’ 

‘I don’t mind. Your bear form is pretty sexy.’

He laughs softly, a surprised sound. ‘Really? I’m pleased you think so.’

Even sexier is the way he looks while he’s changing, his body even bulkier and hair sprouting everywhere. ‘Can you change part ways?’

His hand stops moving on your back as he considers this. ‘I can. I think it might be easier for me to maintain that, rather than one or the other.’

Halsin rolls you both over until you’re on your back in the grass and pinned beneath him. With a heavy hand on your inner thigh, he pushes your knees up to your chest and thrusts deeper, and then again. 

‘By Silvanus, you feel wonderful,’ he pants.

A ripple goes through his body. His eyes turn fiercely golden. The hair thickens across his chest and spreads over his shoulders and down his arms. His top lip pulls back from his teeth, revealing thick incisors. His cock swells to what feels like twice its size inside you. You gaze at him in wonder. He looks incredible like this. 

As he continues to pump his cock into you, you press your hands against his muscular, hairy stomach, struggling to accommodate all of him. 

‘I’m hurting you,’ he realises, his voice more growl than words. ‘I can change back.’

‘No, don’t stop. Just slow down for a moment. It’s a good problem to have.’ You reach down to the place where you’re joined and wrap your fingers around his slippery thickness. Gods, that’s wonderful. So is his bulk looming over you and the rich, animal scent of his body. He thrusts carefully, watching you closely, his golden gaze roaming over you. 

‘So beautiful, sweet one,’ he rumbles. ‘Are you sure you like me like this?’

‘Yes, oh gods, yes.’

With every thrust, it’s getting easier for him to slide his whole length deep inside you, and pleasure stabs through you every time he bottoms out. 

You reach up and cup his furred cheek. ‘I didn’t think it was possible, but you’re even sexier like this. How does it feel for you?’

He groans and seems to take courage from your words. ‘Like I’m finally free. No longer fighting what I crave.’ The speed of his thrusts pick up, and he devours you hungrily. ‘You’re so good to me.’  

His breathing becomes a throaty snarl. His claws dig lovingly into your thigh. His hips move in a relentless rhythm, long thrusts, and then shorter, urgent ones, and you can tell he’s nearing his peak. You hold onto his shoulders for dear life as his body stiffens and his climax breaks through him, and he throws his head back.

With a groan, he sinks down onto his elbow and buries his face in your throat. As you hold him tight, you feel him shift back to his human form, his skin smooth and damp with perspiration. 

Halsin lifts his head and kisses you. ‘I’ve never done anything like that before. Was it all right? I didn’t hurt you, did I?’

You hasten to assure him that he didn’t and it was everything you wanted.

He smiles. ‘How wonderful you are.’

You stroke his sweaty hair back. Neither have I. You’re so beautiful always, and especially seeing you like that, through wildshape eyes.’

He rolls onto his side in the grass and wraps both his arms around you, keeping you tight against his chest. ‘I shouldn’t have been so stubborn. The world feels so much better now I have you in my arms.’

‘How long does mating season last?’ you ask. You hope it’s a long time, and he needs you often. 

He laughs, a deep sound reverberating through his chest. ‘It’s every moment I lay eyes on you, sweet one.’

‘I hope that I haven’t distracted you from your duties.’

He presses a gentle kiss to your forehead. ‘I’m more motivated than ever.’

You lay like that together in the grass until Halsin feels your cooling body shiver. 

He helps you to your feet and draws you into his arms for one last, tender kiss. Cradling your face in his hands, he murmurs, ‘You are the person I admire most in the world. I feel honoured by every moment I spend by your side.’ He kisses you again. ‘Know that I can’t wait until I’m able to tell you that my whole heart is yours.’

Thank you so much for reading. Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! Or tell me how the Halsin brainrot is affecting you while playing BG3. I have just about no braincells left by now. Only Daddy Bear remains. 

[chamomiletealeaf]

Sweet as Pie

Chapter 4

The willow tree was the biggest Simon had ever seen. It's long branches and leaves swayed in the light breeze and he found himself staring at it, admiring it in its grandeur.

"Pretty, i'n it?" You ask him, standing with him in front of the tree.

Not as pretty as you He thought.

"Gorgeous." Simon said, but he meant it more towards you than the tree.

"C'mon, come sit." You urged him along, as you moved the willow's leaves out the way, and you disappeared behind them.

He followed you and sat in the shade of the tree, wrapped and hidden away by the Weeping Willow, facing the lake. It was truly such a calming and beautiful sight. But yet again, Simon just couldn't focus on anything other than you and how your hair reminded him of the branches of the tree, just falling so gracefully and perfectly.

"I sit here a lot when I need somewhere quiet away from the house." You tell him with a smile as you stare at the lake, the both of you sitting against the tree's trunk.

"Y'know, I think there's some kind of magic in this tree." You continue. "No matter what could be goin' on, the world could be endin' and yet this tree will stay it's same, quiet self. And anything hidden behind it's leaves is immune to anything outside of them. It's like... A force field. A safety net. Everything, all the noise and bad things, just get left outside when you walk behind this wall of leaves."

"Feels that way." Simon responded. "You seem to know this place really well. You been here a while?" He asks.

"Been here all my life. House was my auntie's. One day she told me: 'y/n? When I'm dead an' gone this place gon' be yours. Keep it alive for me.' That's why I keep so many plants in it. To keep the life in that house my auntie always had. Treat em' like my babies." You confessed.

"I can see that." Simon joked, referring to not too long ago when he saw you dancing and taking care of them.

You laughed, and surprisingly, so did he.

"So what about you?" You asked, shifting the conversation.

"What is a handsome man like you doin' all the way out here alone?" You teased as you nudged his shoulder, a boldness taking over you.

Handsome? She thinks I'm handsome? Simon thought, and that damned blush he hated made it's way back onto his face for the umpteenth time.

"Military." He answered. "My best friend in my Task Force nearly died by a shot to the temple. I never thought my life meant anything which is why I dedicated it to the military but when I almost lost him, it was a wake up call. I realized I had something to live for, and I knew I shouldn't take life for granted so I wanted to try and do something for myself."

You looked at him with sympathy, listening to him intently.

"So, I bought that house to at least get a breath of air before I take my last. To experience something good for once."

Simon was shocked with how much he let slip out, but for some reason, he felt like he could trust you with his life.

"I'm sorry about your friend. I'm glad he's ok." You comfort him. "That must've been real scary. But I'm glad you're doin' something good for yourself. You deserve it. I'm sure he's happy for you too." You punctuated your sentence with a smile, and Simon smiled back.

You both sat there under the willow tree getting to know each other until the sun was just beginning to set.

"Simon?" You ask him.

"Hm." He answers.

"Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?" You ask softly and hopefully, and Simon's brain short circuits. Were you... actually interested in a man like him? Or maybe you were just being friendly.

"I'd love that." He says.

You smile at him again as you begin to stand up.

"Well, hope you like Shepherd's pie, sugar, cuz' i've been dyin' to bust out the ol' recipe for it." You brush off your cardigan and wrap it around yourself.

Simon stands up and brushed himself off, flattered that you want to cook for him. You were too sweet to him, and he wondered what he ever did in his life or past one to deserve the company of you.

"That sounds lovely." He smiles down at you and the both of you make your way back to your house.

As you two enter your little yellow house, Simon admires how nice it is. He looks at all your well-loved plants and the little trinkets adorning your shelves. He looks at your patterned furniture in the living room and notices a really old looking white wooden rocking chair with the paint peeling off of it in the corner. In it sat a dark green wool knit blanket. It looked so warm and comfortable, and he wondered how it felt compared to his old black and navy blue bedding.

"Well, here it is. This is home." You say proudly, closing the front door behind you two.

"It's lovely." He says, still looking at the blanket and rocking chair.

You notice him staring at it and take note of his curiosity.

"That's aunties old rocking chair. Been in the family for years. She used to sit in it and knit me all kinds of clothes. Now I sit in it and knit too. Made that there blanket myself." You tell him, gesturing to it.

"You made that?" He asks in shock. It was a huge blanket, and it looked so well made. Of course you made something so perfect like that. What couldn't you do?

"Yeah" You beam up at him. "Here." You say, and go to grab it from the rocking chair. You bring it back to him and wrap it around his shoulders.

"There you go hun'. It's yours." You say and wink at him.

He goes to take the blanket off his shoulders in protest.

"Oh no I, I can't take this you must have spent so much time on it."

"Oh please that's nothin', I saw the few boxes you brought into that house of yours, you ain't never gonna find yourself a nice blanket like this one. Trust me." You joke to reassure him as you grab his wrists to stop his movements and you wrap the blanket back around his shoulders.

Did she just, grab my wrists? Simon thought, the action taking him off guard and he felt heat run through his body that wasn't from the blanket.

Fuck stop stop stop don't blush He told to himself, or more to the blood rushing to his face.

"It's your color anyway." You say, taking a step back to look how the dark color brought out the brown of his eyes. Were his eyes always such a pretty, rich, honey color?

"Come on an' sit at the table while I get this started." You tell him, and he secretly liked how assertive you were. You wanted to take care of him, which is something Simon never experienced before. It made his heart melt.

He watched you cook for him and how you hushed him when he offered to help, and he felt a smile creep it's way onto his face. There was something so... intimate about what you were doing for him.

"You sure you don't want me to help?" He asked again.

"Oh hush now with all that, you just sit there and look pretty while I fix this up for you. Excited for you to try it. Haven't made this in forever." You tell him with a smile.

His heart jumped once again at your coddling, calling him pretty this time. God he was gonna have to make a list of all the sweet things you called him to remember them all for the nights he's feeling lonely. Or maybe, you would be there to tell him directly.

You placed a plate of shepherd's pie down in front of Simon and one for you across from him. You then set out two glasses and went to the fridge to take out a pitcher of iced tea. With a mischievous smile, you poured some into both glasses and sat down. Little did Simon know, he was gonna taste the sweetest, most tooth rotting iced tea he's ever gonna have.

"Thank you y/n." Simon said, then took a sip of the iced tea. You brought your own glass to your lips and took a sip as well.

Then Simon placed his glass down with a coughing fit and you let out a cackle.

"Bloody hell what did you put in that?" Simon asked between coughs and you were losing it.

"That right there, is some authentic southern sweet tea baby." You laughed.

"Christ if a bullet doesn't kill me that sure will." He laughed, his coughing subsiding.

"Well do you like it at least?" You ask.

Simon took another sip, preparing himself this time, then nodded after a second.

"Yeah... I could get used to it." He smiled at you, and you smiled back.

"Go on an' eat now, look like you haven't had a thing all day." You said, as you picked up your fork to try your freshly prepared meal.

Simon did the same, and when he took a bite of the Shepherd's pie, he swears he'd never tasted anything better in his life.

"Holy shit." He says with his mouth full.

You look up at him from your plate with wide eyes, hoping he likes it.

"This is the best damn thing I've ever had." He said, taking bite after bite.

You giggle, glad he enjoys it so much.

"Really? Ok good, I was nervous. Haven't made it in a while." You confess with the biggest smile on your face, watching the big man in front of you eat like he hasn't in weeks.

By the time you finish your plate, Simon has already finished two and downed his sweet tea.

"I haven't had a meal like that since before the military." Simon says, leaning back in his char satisfied, wrapping the blanket back around his shoulders.

You finish off the rest of your sweet tea then place the glass down to answer him.

"What? Really?" You ask in shock and horror, wondering why this mountain of a man hasn't been eating the way he's supposed to.

"Oh baby we gotta change that." You say with a laugh.

There it is again. Simon thinks. Baby.

He doesn't know how to react, all the affection he's receiving from you, someone he just met, was more than any affection he's had his entire life.

"Here, lemme help you clean up." Simon offers, standing up and grabbing his plate.

But you stand up too and reach for the plate in his hands.

"Uh-uh, I got it, you're a guest tonight." You say, hands going to take his plate.

Simon pulls it back so you can't grab it.

"No no please, you've done so much for me already. I got it." He says, and you stand there for a second, considering.

"Ok." You say, giving in to his warm, brown puppy eyes he's giving you.

"Just place it right there in the sink." You tell him.

After you two clean up, Simon realizes how late it got. Time with you seemed to fly.

"Well, I better get home now." He says sadly, not wanting to let the night end, but he doesn't want to keep you up taking care of him. "Thank you so much again, y/n." He says, smiling down at you in the kitchen.

"You're welcome, Simon." You say, now smiling up at him.

You two stay there for a few seconds, just smiling at each other, enjoying each other's presence and proximity.

"Here, lemme walk you out." You say, breaking the moment first.

You both walk to the front door together, him trailing behind you and taking note of how cute the sway of your hips is as you walk. You open the door for him and you both look at each other again.

"Goodnight, y/n, I had a good time." Simon says.

"You're welcome, me too." You reply. Then you notice he doesn't have the blanket you gave him. Your eyes widen and you gasp, making Simon's eyebrow rise in concern.

"Oh my god, wait, your blanket!" You say and hurry off to the kitchen where the blanket was draped over the kitchen table's chair and bring it back to him.

"Here you are honey." You say, as you reach up on your toes to place it around his shoulders.

Simon grips the ends of the blanket and tugs it the rest of the way around his shoulders.

"Don't want you to forget that." You smile up at him. "You're gonna sleep real well with that, trust me." You say.

"I'm sure I will. Thank you." He says, smiling back.

"Goodnight Simon." You tell him softly, smile never leaving your face.

"Goodnight y/n." He reciprocates in the same soft tone.

He turns to walk out the door and onto the porch, then looks back at you before turning around to make his way back to his house.

You lean in the doorway, crossing your arms over your chest as you watch him walk away, feeling warm despite the night's brisk air, then you return back into your house when he reaches his own, smiling to yourself for the rest of the night.

Simon makes his way to his room, but not before looking at your house through his kitchen window one last time, watching the lights turn off inside them.

He enters his room and sits on his bed, wrapping the blanket still on his shoulders tighter around himself. He lays down, bringing it up to his nose to take in the scent of your house, trying to etch it into his brain forever.

He gets lost in how warm the blanket is and how it smells so much like you that his eyelids get too heavy before he can change into his night clothes. The thought and smell of you overwhelms his senses in the best way and he finds himself falling asleep to their comfort.

And as he slept, not a single nightmare creeped it's way into his mind. How could they? His mind was already occupied with dreams of you.

taglist: @pussypinkbarbie @thatonepupkai @confuseddipshit

[anaargent]

Ok but like... Five in Harry Potter PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE i know it's very unlikely but like just imagine him and his siblings in Harry Potter, with reader please 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

You caught my favorite hyperfocuses, I wrote something simple, but I would like to go into more depth in the future.

FIVE HARGREEVES X READER

You were sitting in the shade of a large willow tree, making the most of the small moment of respite with the Hargreeves siblings. You weren’t sure when or how you had gotten pulled into their mess, but you were more than grateful for it. You smiled, watching Klaus and Ben at the edge of the lake playing with a frog, levitating it back and forth.

“This is disgusting, you idiots.” Allison threw the frog away as she pulled Viktor, who was resting his feet in the icy water, away from the mischievous siblings. “Will we have to put up with this until we grow up?”

“Don’t be so optimistic, we’ll have to live with them until the grave,” Viktor said, smiling, as he hugged his sister, who was whimpering in frustration.

Not far away, Diego and Luther were in the act of interacting with what you charitably called Luego’s fan club, a medium-sized group of girls and a few boys, who seemed enchanted by the Gryffindor bigwigs. They posed and flexed their muscles while their fans sighed in amazement "this is all natural babe, you can squeeze it" Luther said showing his biceps.

It was a funny fact, as much as the grumpy old Reginald Hargreeves was a perfect example of a Slytherin, almost all of his children went to different houses. Viktor and Ben went to Hufflepuff, they were kind souls, usually the first to offer help to their brothers and friends. Diego and Luther went to Gryffindor, the hat barely touched their heads, it was quite obvious to you that the two hotheads went to the house of the impulsive and courageous. Klaus was a stranger, after about ten minutes the hat left him in Ravenclaw, along with you to your great pleasure, there was never a dull moment with someone like Klaus around. Allison had gone to Slytherin, always standing out in the class, the girl was a perfect example of talent and discipline mixed with a rebellious and independent spirit. Finally… "There you are, I've been looking for you everywhere" Five says, pulling you out of your contemplative moment, shoving a chocolate cupcake into your hand and plopping down on the grass next to you "What are you doing here alone? Don't tell me you finally realized I'm the best of them and now you just want to hang out with me" he smirks as he looks at you.

You just laugh, shaking your head "If you were any bigger your ego would fill the common room, you know that, right?" Then you stop for a moment and take in the view. Five was still wearing his Quidditch uniform, just like you, his moss green t-shirt was worn and wet from intense training, his hair was a messy wave of strands slightly damp with sweat, giving him a wild look, which perfectly matched the playful and challenging eyes of its owner.

You sighed and shook your head, not wanting to be caught dissecting every part of Five, he already had a lot of self-confidence.

"Just watching?" Five smiles, leaning closer, his breathing still labored from the tiring workout, the light puffs of air hitting your cheeks.

You contemplate for a moment, pouting as you bite into the cupcake, Five's eyes darting between your eyes and lips, he wasn't good at disguising his intentions, maybe he wasn't even trying to "wanna taste?"

Five looks at you hopefully, his mind racing with the question - what were you trying to insinuate? "I will."

You move closer to him, your shoulders touching under the cool grass, the light wind carrying Five's scent from him and intoxicating you with the mix of moss, parchment, sweat and something that was only his. Then you place the cupcake on your parted lips and quickly stand up laughing and heading over to where Klaus and Ben were still playing with floating things "Forget this loser, come here and levitate worms on Allison" Ben waves with a cute smile at you.

"We're not done here yet, sweetie, I'll see you at the Quidditch game this Saturday," you hear Five shout in the distance, and you fight the blush that rises to your cheeks.

[priestess-of-yuri]

what do you need to hear right now?

a timeless pick a pile reading.

remember, this is a general reading, so take what resonates and leave what doesn't!

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pile 1.

you are on the verge of a beautiful transformation, pile 1. the Butterfly Spirit and the Raven Spirit are with you right now. you are being called to embrace growth and change like an old friend, and to speak your truth. butterflies are animals of huge growth and development, and ravens have long been said to be messengers of the celestial. your body may be experiencing spiritual signs, like aches in the stomach and tingling in the extremities that seem without reason. you may be on the verge of a spiritual awakening, or some other kind of psychological growth spurt. be prepared to face the truth of your development, and have courage. it takes guts to grow, because like any other skill it takes effort and focus, but you have it within you. the Wizard of the Woods is with you, and is asking you what your deepest wish is. but you must have a clear desire in your heart and soul and head -- this is the only condition, for without focus, you will lack finesse. but you don't need to fear, because these beings have your back. remember that focus can be achieved through movement or meditation. take a walk at your local park, or simply take a few moments to breathe, or journal your thoughts freely in a private space with no fear. what comes out? what do you want to achieve? and then, don't worry about the rest. you don't need to concern yourself with the how, the what, the where. trust in the Divine, and miracles will happen. the Rainbow Waterfall is a sign of great blessings, and like the tale of the treasure at the end of the rainbow, you are on the path to everything you could ever want. so keep it up, and keep looking forward. your very existence is a miracle, and the more you focus on the blessings in your life, the more you will attract.

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pile 2.

the Willow Spirit is with you, pile 2. you are more than capable of approaching the situation you are in with grace and elegance and kindness. using your intelligence, your instincts, your intrinsically good self, navigate these winds like the boughs of the willow tree, swaying and bending in the wind so they don't break where a sturdier and harder tree may snap. sometimes practicing leniency as a choice is a strength. you have the power in you to choose your behaviour wisely. the Bear Spirit being with you as well allows you to heal. you yourself are a healer. you are worthy of being bestowed with this healing power so when someone says "thank you" just for you being yourself, you need not ponder on how it happened. simply graciously say "you're welcome." you're a grounding force, and the Bear Spirit keeps you warm from the inside out. this situation will resolve. the Daffodil Fairy being with you indicates that this situation is a new beginning, the start of something fresh like the first blossoms in springtime. this Daffodil Fairy welcomes you to a new phase in life with open arms, and you will be hopefully be happy to know that the pain of the past can remain there, if you so choose to let go. the Frog Spirit is a Spirit of monumental development and change over time, due to the way frogs change form over their lifetimes. from egg to tadpole to frog, the frog is considered to be a lucky animal, an animal of healing, and of birth and rebirth. fortune is on your side, pile 2! with healing, new beginnings and your inner versatility on your side, you will go far. the Forest Temple indicates you're on the path to spiritual growth. you may be experiencing a spiritual awakening. if you're feeling like your body is changing, if you're experiencing sounds, smells, tastes that don't seem to make sense, or you're experiencing aches in the stomach or extremities that seem odd and unlike true pain, or you're noticing messages that seem to align well with what you're going through more frequently than before... congratulations! you're simply on your way. meditate, experience nature, research into witch tools, if you so feel called. journal lots and lots freely. you may grow and heal and leave behind the past more rapidly than you could even imagine.

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pile 3.

wow, pile 3! you got so many cards. Spirit has many messages for you! Aspen Spirit is asking you to remember your courage. the aspens have a network of roots that connect them to each other, the same way you are connected to your loved ones: your family, whether that be by blood or found, your community, and those you have even yet to meet! have faith, be courageous, and accept help when you need it. you're on quite the journey, and we all could use some support now and again. there is no weakness in being supported, only love and beauty. the Maple Spirit is a sign of generosity, reminding you to give, give and give! you will receive tenfold. the pay it forward methodology of karma means that what you put out into the world, you will receive. so remember, as a force for good, give, and you will receive! Moonlight Enchantment says magic is all around you. underneath the light of the moon, though it is dark, you are forever being guided forward. elvies, pixies, fairies, forest creatures of all kinds... they're gathering, and they are celebrating! the veil between worlds is thin right now, and you need to remember this, my dear pile 3: everywhere and everything is magic. you are magic, i am magic, we are all magic. it is all connected, and you are being asked to bask in it. Meandering Pathway is asking you to flow with your way of life. though it may be frustrating when you face rocks, branches, and trees on your pathway, remember that you may simply enjoy the stroll. it's a matter of relinquishing your desire for control, and having faith in the Universe to carry you forward. you will reach what serves your highest good with time. the Unicorn is a creature of purity, and on your journey you will encounter it as you remember who you really are. you are pure. you may feel as if life has tainted you, as if this world has tainted you, but rest assured you are nothing but pure, my dear pile 3. the Unicorn knows it well. furthermore, Mystic Meadow is asking you to seek sanctuary during this time. in this Mystic Meadow, foxes and rabbits sleep nestled together, and all creatures big and small relax in each other's company. you are being called to remember what makes you feel at home, at peace, and still. seek to stay somewhere you feel safe, or with people you feel safe, during this time. you will be rewarded for your time spent in sanctuary. the Ancient Oak Spirit is reminding you of your strength. now is the time to be strong, to give yourself the inner fortitude to carry on. the Ancient Oak Spirit stands tall and strong and has for thousands of years, and you may draw upon its energy to give yourself the brilliance you need in this time. and finally, the Wild Rose Fairy asks you to remember that you are loved. you are so very loved, adored and cherished. not just by those around you, but by the Universe, by all your Spirits, Angels and Guardians. if only you could see yourself how the Universe sees you, but know that all these messages were delivered with love just the same. do your best, pile 3. you've come a long way, and you deserve to relax and enjoy the journey right now.

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thank you for reading! wishing you a wonderful day or night ahead. if you enjoyed or appreciated, please consider reblogging instead of just liking. this helps me reach more people! you also have the option to tip me if you so choose! thank you very much.

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signature art credit to @.zillychu!

[in-search-of-a-fallen-star]

at the last stroke of midnight (pt. 6); shouto todoroki/reader

Content warnings: aged up characters, everyone is in their 20s or older. fantasy au. no pronouns used for reader, but they are described to wear skirts and are referred to as ‘my lady’.

heyyy so this literally kept me up last night. sorry the last parts are like 6 months late. hopefully the finale is worth the wait.

part 5 : part 6 (you are here) : part 7

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI

All you know is that you need to get away.

Your mind is whirling, the snide voice of your own insecurities filling your mind with all the reasons a prince  could never love you. You race out of the ballroom, startling the guards at the door. The main doors to the palace are shut, and too heavy for you to open on your own, so you make a split second decision and dart down the halls towards the servant's passages.

 A moment after you make your escape, you hear Shouto's voice call out for you, and footsteps pounding down the marble hallways on your heels. You dash into the servant's passage, throwing the door open behind you. Several maids in the passage quickly move out of your way, armloads of linens hoisted above their heads to make room for your escape.

The passage opens up into the scullery, and you slow your mad dash enough to avoid the risk of falling into one of the steaming hot vats of water, topped with soapy foam, where laundry is being washed. Finally, you reach a door to the outside, and you take a breath of cool night air. You can still hear a commotion inside, and you're not ready for what that might mean, so you continue your flight deep into the palace gardens.

The gardens are dark, lit only by the arcane lamps that stand near the paths, and the shadows grow even deeper when you veer off the path and into the woods at the heart of the gardens. Left nearly blind in the darkness, your feet take you down a path you know well- and soon, willow fronds brush against your skin as you arrive at the great willow tree at the heart of the garden.

You sink to the soft grass, your skirts pooling around you. Your mind whirls, processing not just tonight, but everything that's happened over the past few days. The knowledge that your knight is the prince of the kingdom slots in like a final puzzle piece, revealing the whole picture. It makes sense now, why the queen seemed so knowledgeable, and why Princess Fuyumi had acted so strange at the tournament.

Your knight is a prince.

You bring your hands up to your face, pressing them over your mouth. Goddess above, you'd sassed a prince,  and even worse, you'd licked his hand. You've been in the south long enough to begin to understand what their royalty meant, and the rules that surround people of that station. It was out of the question to talk back to them, let alone lick them, and you'd done both.

You contemplated making a break for it back to your village up in the glaciers, but then you thought about having to explain the circumstances of your return to the village elders and immediately changed your mind. You'd rather endure a lifetime of ridicule in a southern court over a moment of your elder's displeasure- they'd most likely scold you for embarrassing the village, and they'd be right.

You flopped back in the grass, looking up at the moon through  the willow boughs. Absentmindedly, you stretched out a hand, watching the silvery light play over your fingers. You're going to have to face the queen, you muse, conjuring  motes of ice in the air, letting them refract the moonlight. Now that you think about it, she had seemed rather excited over the prospect of you spending time with her son, and now you'll have to explain that you ran away from him during one of the biggest events of the year. Your exit definitely made an impression, and most likely not the good kind.

Shouto's face hovered in your mind's eye. He had looked devastatingly handsome in his formal wear, hair pushed back to showcase his handsome features, and a tailored coat accenting his broad shoulders and trim waist. More importantly, you remembered the stricken look on his face when you had pulled away from him in the ballroom. If he had genuine feelings for you, he definitely didn't anymore, you think.  He'd looked… heartbroken.

The crunch of footsteps snaps you out of your reverie, and you snap up from your position on the grass. You can make out a figure in the trees, and you try to quietly stand up, shuffling behind the trunk of the willow.

The footsteps get closer, and you can hear the soft rustle of the willow boughs parting as the figure steps past their shroud.

"My lady? Are you here?"

You squeeze your eyes shut. Your heart races- what do you say to the person whose heart you just broke? Worse, what will he say to you?

"Do you truly not wish to see me, my lady?" Goddess above, the sound of his voice twists your heartstrings. He sounds so melancholy his voice almost brings tears to your eyes. He waits for a moment, and when you don't respond, you hear a sigh wrench out of his chest and the sound of his boots on the loam as he turns to leave.

"Wait! Please wait," you call out, pressing yourself against the tree. You clap your hands over your mouth- your words surprise you almost as much as they surprise Shouto. You can hear his sharp intake of breath as he turns back.

"What is it, my lady? Ask of me anything, and I will grant it. Just please, do not flee from me again," he begs. You can hear him step closer, the brush of fabric against the tree trunk.

"I don't want anything from you," you can't help the way your voice snaps and cracks in the dark.

"Do you truly wish to not look at me?" he asks, and his voice sounds so sad that you can feel your heart crack.

"I'm not ready," you answer, voice thick with tears. "I'm scared, Shouto."

"Why are you scared?"

"I'm just a servant from a northern village, a commoner. You're a prince," you say. "I can't offer you anything- I have no money, no status, nothing that makes me worthy of royalty."

"That doesn't matter!" he roars. Distantly, you note that it's the loudest you've ever heard him speak. "I love you. All my life, I've only wanted someone that saw me for me, who didn't see the title, the crown. You saw me,  from the moment we met. You treated me like a person, like your friend. I loved you the moment you licked my hand,"  he lets out a dry chuckle.

You take a deep breath, hand over your racing heart, and then step out from behind the tree.

Shouto stands underneath the willow, drenched in silver moonlight. His hair has come loose from its style, a few strands draping across his forehead. You stretch out a hand for him, ignoring how it shakes a little. He reaches for you instantly, shedding his gloves so you can feel the warmth of his palm against yours.

"Say it again, please," you breathe.

"I love you," he murmurs, pulling you in by your hand. He moves slowly, letting you decide, and when you don't pull away he folds you against his chest.

You let your head rest against his chest, taking a deep breath before looking up into his varicolored eyes. He cups your cheek in one big hand, and you reflexively lean into the touch. "I'm ready to not be scared anymore," you say, steadying yourself against him. "I love you, and I'd like for you to kiss me."

"Gladly," he whispers, and leans down to slant his mouth over yours. His lips are warm and slightly chapped, moving gently over yours. When you shyly respond, you feel his fingers tighten in the fabric of your dress and he pours heat into the kiss.

He's all you can sense- the warmth of him pressed against you, his campfire-in-winter scent, the sweet taste of dessert lingering on his lips. He cups the back of your head, tipping your head up and devouring every inch of your mouth.

The kiss makes your head spin, and it's not until your lungs are screaming for air that you finally put a hand on his chest to push him away. He breaks away, and it makes something in your chest flutter to see that he's panting with a flush high on his cheeks too. He doesn't take a step back; instead he wraps his arms around you and rests his forehead on yours while the two of you catch your breath.

"We should do that again," you blurt out. Your declaration startles a laugh out of him, and you swear it's the most beautiful sound you've ever heard.

"People will talk if we stay out here for much longer, and you're already… disheveled," he says diplomatically. You look down; you know your hair is a mess, your dress is askew and the hem is muddy after your impromptu hike through the gardens.

"I don't care," you decide. "I'm a mess, and people will talk regardless. So bend down and kiss me, Shouto, before I make you."

His mismatched eyes twinkle in the moonlight. "As my lady wishes," he murmurs against your skin, obediently bending down to kiss the breath out of your lungs.

After the two of you finally separate, the moon is high in the sky and the sounds of the party have faded. You and Shouto share one last kiss before you go your separate ways; agreeing to sneak back into the palace separately to avoid as much gossip as possible.

You know that the queen has long since retired at this point, so you skip going to her chambers and instead take the servant's quarters to your little room. The exhaustion of the evening hits you as you push open your bedroom door, the anticipation of being in bed making you feel weary.

Unfortunately, you feel a frission of adrenaline spike through you as you enter your room, as the queen herself rises from her seat on the edge of your bed. "You're finally back, did Shouto-" she looks you up and down, taking in your flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and kiss-swollen lips. An amused smile makes its way to her mouth. "It looks like Shouto did find you. Were the two of you able to sort things out?"

You can't help the way your cheeks heat, made worse by the way her smile twists into knowing. Luckily she has mercy on you, gesturing for you to turn around so she can help you undress.

"You don't need to do that, your majesty," you protest, taking a half step back.

She props her hands on her hips, the stubborn set of her face reminding you of Shouto. "I suppose you'd rather sleep in the gown, then? And," she peers down at the hem. "Get mud on your sheets?"

"You have a point," you sigh. You turn and let her fuss with the fastenings, pulling your gown over your head one layer at a time. Once you are left in your chemise, and she has an armful of cloth, she guides you to bed with one hand.

"Rest, dear one. I'm guessing you'll be very busy in the near future."

She shuts the door, the room falling into darkness behind her. You fall asleep shortly after, dreaming of princes and kisses.

[reallyghostlypost]

[Fic] First meeting

Yay, finally managed to be productive! Wanted to write about a potential Julian and Thad first meeting, but I managed to combine it with another idea I had about how Thad's scarecrows evolved and I kinds lost focus😅@studentinpursuitofclouds feel free to correct me on how I wrote Julian if something doesn't fit with his personality.

Also, have no idea how this flows from paragraph to paragraph since I can't read it without randomly tearing up due to the cold. Hopefully it's good enough.

Julian was struggling to walk through the thick forest. If he knew it would take him this long to explore this part of the woods he would have postponed his expedition for another day. But it was almost sunset now, he'll see what's behind this patch of trees before turning back towards his farm. At least I found plenty of forage. After a few more minutes of struggling and shallow scratches he managed to get past the thick trees. Before him was a clearing with a small cabin and three scarecrows guarding a few patches of crops.

Julian hesitated at first, he didn't wanted to bother anyone, but curiosity won eventually. He started walking towards the cabin slowly, feeling the need to remain careful about his surroundings without knowing why. After a few steps he noticed a silhouette behind the porch. The other person was turned, his back to Julian, looking like he was carving something into a log. Julian approached carefully and the other man turned his head slightly before refocusing on his task. "I told you already Willow, you can't eat the cat. Now go back to your field."

It was then when Julian noticed a slight movement under the porch. A small orange cat poked it's head out to look at him with scared eyes. Julian hesitated before clearing his throat. "Um… I'm not Willow…"

The other man turned his head fully towards him with a surprised expression on his face. He focused on Julian's face before studying him from head to toes. Julian wasn't sure how to react to that. "Oh, I wasn't expecting anyone to travel this far into the woods. I'm Thad."

"Julian, pleased to meet you. Sorry for trespassing?"

"No problem, anyone who gets this far out into the wilderness will travel through this place eventually." Thad turned his back slightly looking over the trees. "You're aware how late it is though, right? We're way past the magic barrier, monsters will start swarming the area soon. Are you sure you should be this far into the woods?"

"It's ok, I have a sword with me." Although he decided to not mentioned he just learned how to use one and barley fought any monsters with it. Julian wasn't sure if he should try to apologize again, wasn't sure if that was a snide comment directed at him for being here or just a random observation.

But before he could decide Thad turned towards him again, his eyes colder and more guarded. "Are you part of the Adventurer Guild?"

Then Thad looked over him again, slowly and calculating. His smile was sharper now, but his eyes weren't smiling. "Uh yes, I just joined a few days ago." Julian wasn't sure what to say about the whole thing.

Thad's eyes then focused on his face, looking him in the eyes cold and analysing, before relaxing slightly. "A few days ago you say? Wasn't aware there was any competent fighter in this town, now I can tell Marlon to fuck off when he tries to get me to join. You don't have much experience with other adventurers, right? They're all assholes."

Julian immediately remembered the older cloaked man who rudely told him to leave as soon as he stepped foot in the guild. He smiled a little awkwardly. "Some of them are rude, yes, but-"

Suddenly Thad's eyes snapped up to focus on something behind Julian and he started screaming. "No, Willow! You can't eat him either!"

Julian jumped before turning fast, hand on the hilt of his sword. He wasn't even sure what he was expecting, a dog maybe? But there was nothing behind him. The wind was slightly moving the small leaves barely poking out of the hoed patches of soil while the scarecrows were slightly moving with the breeze. Wait, was that scarecrow's head turned towards this direction before? Julian could have sworn it was staring at the entrance of this place. He looked at Thad who had an unreadable expression on his face.

"Wh-who you were talking to?" Julian tried to scan the field behind him again and realized he was being watched, and that he has been stalked by something as soon as he stepped into the clearing.

"My scarecrows, I'm still trying to get them to behave."

Julian looked again at the still scarecrows and turned back to Thad, but before he could ask what that meant Thad offered him a cloth bundle that looked quite heavy. Where did that came from? "You said you're part of the guild, right? Could I ask you for a favour? Marlon wanted me to make these for him but I… would rather avoid walking all the way to the mountains. Or talking with him for that matter" That cold smile was back now. "Would you mind delivering these from me next time you visit him? No rush, he isn't expecting them at a certain date."

"Sure, I will have to talk with him soon anyway". Julian accepted the wrapped bundle of cloth, still feeling slightly tense, and stashed it into his backpack.

"Great, thank you! I'll pay you back if Marlon doesn't do it, not sure how those adventuring commissions work."

Julian looked at the setting sun before apologizing, still feeling eyes on his back. "I should go, it's getting late."

"Of course, do you want me to guide you back?" Thad looked unsure, like he didn't know how to handle sudden visitors.

"No no, please don't bother. I know the way I came though."

"Alright then, have a good evening." Thad turned back to his log, and Julian now noticed it was looking like a sculptured rabbit.

"Good night!" Then Julian started walking back towards the exit. Suddenly, half way there he felt the hairs on his neck stand up. He tuned his head slightly towards his right and he noticed that the closest scarecrow was crouched on it's stick, ready to jump at him over the small fence protecting the crops. Julian's hand went back to his sword, ready to fight his way out if needed. He could swear he just heard distant whispers.

"Willow, no! What the fuck did I just told you?!" He heard footsteps approaching and noticed Thad rushing towards him while pointing straight at the scarecrow. "Get back on your perch, what did I told you about attacking visitors?!"

The scarecrow focused fully on Thad and prepared to jump at him. Julian pulled his sword out of it's sheath and stepped closer. What is even going on? There definitely whispers around him and he realized the other scarecrows were now looking at them too. Thad didn't moved at all, he was staring straight at 'Willow' while pointing at it. "Perch, Willow. Now!"

The scarecrow made another small movement to jump, before stopping still. It hesitated a little but then started to step back down from the top of it's perch. The whispers died down to murmurs Julian could barely hear, and the other scarecrows were looking at the ground again. A huge tension felt like it was lifted and the air got lighter… like the whole area had been waiting for something to happen.

Julian wanted to ask, but felt like it's better to not get involved in… whatever was going on, especially since the sun had fully set at this point. Something was telling him to not be here once darkness falls.

Just as he was about to exit the clearing he looked back. Thad was loudly scolding the scarecrow who was back in it's original position, looking just as inanimate as the moment he stepped foot here.

*

Julian, still sleepy, looked over the list of things he had to do today. Give a bundle of yams to Marnie, find some coal for Clint, fish a bream later for the Junimos and deliver the weird package he got from Thad to Marlon. And if he still had time, chop down some trees for that barn upgrade. Maybe he should focus on the wood first, winter was approaching fast and his animals would be happier in a more insulated building.

He grabbed his still warm cup of coffee and walked out of the house. A chicken immediately ran up to him and clucked enthusiastically at him until he picked it up and started to gently scratch it's neck. The chicken settled into his arms and fluffed up it's feathers happily, enjoying the pets and Julian's warmth. He looked towards his mailbox and noticed a small purple satchel placed under it with a letter attached. He decided to place his cup of coffee on the windowsill as to not disturb the now sleepy chicken and picked up the purple cloth bag. After a little struggle he managed to open the letter.

"Sorry about my scarecrow last evening. Something went wrong when I made it and Rasmodius is still annoying me about it. Anyway, as a payment for that and for delivering that package for me here's a thing you might find useful. It's fairy dust, I can't use it but I heard you're trying to get the old farm running again so you might find something to use it on. Just try to use in winter, when there are less fairies around, alright? I don't think they were very happy when I took this from them and I'm not sure if they can feel if you use the dust or not. Anyway, thanks again for the help."

Maybe he should speak with Magnus about that, Julian thought. Or at least Marlon since he'll visit the guild later in the evening. He looked at the now sleeping chicken and regretfully put it back on the ground, trying to ignore the indignant sounds. The day needs to start at some point and he'd like to finish his coffee while it's still warm.

[justalittlebitbored]

hi lovely!! i know the willow series is on hiatus, but i have so many outcomes in my head that i had to share with you! whether you decide to finish the series or not is up to you but the chapters are amazing and so well done. the way you describe the readers thoughts are so human, it’s all so enjoyable.

anyways back to what i think would happen, i totally think once rem and the reader confess it’s so going to be one of those angry love confessions. ugh like it’s obvious that her self esteem isn’t that great; we see it with rem and with Alex. So her lashing out finally after he interrogates her or maybe asks her why she’s been so weird would be kind of euphoric and relieving for her.

this is just one the things i’ve been thinking about, but truly your series has been my roman empire since i read it today! 💗💗

happy belated new year and i hope all is well either way you 🫶

hi queenie!!!

thank you so much for the love, I want to finish the series badly as it was all planned out and all but I just need to motivation to do so. hopefully soon?

the fact you said the series is your Roman Empire fills my heart with sm joy!!!!! I could potentially get part 3 up soon bc it’s only missing like 2 scenes I think from when I wrote it in May so if I knock two brain cells together I could post it potentially

I love that you have thought that they would have an angry love confession scene, looking at how I’ve written it that does seem like it is coming but I am an angsty girl so I had something different in mind.

I was thinking a sad confession scene between them both and she thinks it’s the breaking point of their friendship when he confesses too and it’s just so sad and tearful and wholesome.

I actually would love to explore an alternate ending where the confession is angry I agree it would be so freeing for her.

you know what babe willow tree part three is getting posted tonight. ITS HAPPENING!!!! and it’s bc of u

thank you for ur sweet message i love u girly pop

[supernutellastuff]

running like water - a Zutara oneshot

AU Post-finale, that time when an assassin crashes Zuko's 18th birthday. Luckily he has a master waterbender by his side. Ft. a badass Katara, Fire Nation political intrigue, and Bloodbending as flirting.

(Realised I'd written this years ago but never posted. Hopefully this gives me some much-needed inspiration while I muddle through my WIPs. Happy reading!)

link on ao3

Or read below!

It’s Zuko’s 18th birthday and he is nowhere to be found. By all accounts, he’d made an appearance at the Royal Ball for a respectable amount of time and then disappeared into thin air. Katara hurries across the halls of the palace, one hand gathering the skirts of her formal gown, her heels clicking on the marble floor. The palace staff haven’t seen him either—he wasn’t in his bedchambers, nor in the library, and she’d even checked under the willow tree next to the turtleduck pond. Katara fumes, her annoyance rising. She’s laboured over his gift for days, the least he could do is not get kidnapped or whatever.

It’s nearing midnight and Katara is about to contemplate hiring the services of Jun and her shirshu when she remembers the one place she hadn’t yet searched: the rooftop. While the rooftop was largely inaccessible, owing to its steep pagoda architecture, there was a flat alcove, hidden to the public, that opened up to the sky. Zuko had shown it to her a while ago when he was making plans for renovation, but it was dirty and in disrepair then, which is why it had slipped her mind.

The entrance to the roof is hidden behind a tapestry, a rather heavy, ugly thing the colour of blood. Katara twitches the tapestry aside and slips behind it. A narrow spiral staircase stands in front of her, illuminated by a hanging dusty lantern. Clutching the wrought iron railings, she begins the dizzying climb. An unexpected sight greets her at the top.

The place has been transformed into a charming rooftop garden. Vines climb the walls and trail down the parapet. Rows of potted herbs are flanked by beds of exotic flowers, the spicy and sweet scents intermingling in interesting ways. Fat beeswax candles stuck on iron stands are placed strategically in recesses, giving the entire garden a low, atmospheric lighting. And lounging on a profusion of cushions, eyes shut, his top knot undone, is Zuko.

“Took you long enough,” he says lazily, cranking one eye open.

“Happy Birthday,” Katara snaps, flinging the wrapped parcel at his stomach with a little too much force.

Zuko straightens immediately. “What is this?”

“Your present, dummy. I’ve been running around everywhere looking for you.”

He frowns. “Didn’t Oromi deliver you the message?”

“What message?” she asks, sinking into a cushion beside him.

“He must have misplaced the note again.” Oromi was the new palace gardener, a country lad, kind-hearted but rather forgetful. He was a magician at his work, though—he could make the stubbornest of saplings sprout and the most exotic flowers bloom under his care, almost like he was bending them. This little rooftop garden seems to be his doing. “I wrote you a message asking you to meet me here. I could not stand all those dreadful festivities.”

“Yes, yes what a bore having people throwing grand parties in your honour.”

A sheepish smile spread across his face. “I appreciate it all, I really do.”

“The royal cooks roasted an entire hippo-ox in your honour.”

“And I savoured every bite of it…but it exhausts me, having to put on this stern, aloof, regal front.” He does look exhausted, there are lines around his eyes that have no business being there. He also looks older; the planes of his face have sharpened and there’s stubble on his face on days he has no official business. “I hate pretending to be someone I’m not, especially on my birthday, when I’d rather spend time with the people I like.” His eyes flicker to her and her stomach flips.

Clearing her throat, Katara gestures to the package lying in his lap. “Open your gift.”

Zuko picks up the gift, examining it from every angle. Katara watches him carefully as his deft fingers unwrap the parcel, untying the strings and peeling off the layers. Nestled in the folds is a stack of small, unassuming-looking, semi-circular cakes.

“It’s a mooncake,” says Katara hurriedly. “A traditional Water Tribe recipe. Probably not a very special gift but my mom used to make them for birthdays-”

Zuko is already digging into the stack. He takes a bite, makes a sound of appreciation, and polishes off the whole cake. “Is there fruit jam inside?!” he asks in delight, mouth full. He offers a cake to her and picks another for himself.

“Yes!” She grins. “Salmonberry jam. I spent days in the palace kitchen, trying to get the thickness of the filling right. It needs to be the right amount of oozy…”

The words die on her tongue. Zuko is licking the jam off his fingers. She puts down her cake, suddenly very flustered.

Zuko looks up as she falls silent. Their eyes meet and the moment holds still. They’ve been dancing around each other for the past two years, longer than that, if she’s honest. Lingering looks, not-so-accidental touches, charged banter…she’s been noticing it more in their interactions lately, whether it’s quiet picnics beside the turtleduck pond or heated fights during state meetings. And now this connection, whatever it may be, is threatening to make itself known in very real ways. Katara has half a mind to brush off the moment with a flippant remark.

It’s Zuko who breaks the silence. “You look beautiful, by the way,” he comments. She’s wearing a traditional Fire Nation gown, richly embroidered in threads of red and gold, but her hair—

“Your hair is braided Water Tribe style. It looks good on you.”

She smiles, fighting off a blush. “Thank you.”

He’s not done. He runs his hand through his hair, seemingly gathering courage for something. “Katara, I-”

There’s a rustle behind her. She spins around. Her body falls into a fighting stance before she can even register what she’s seeing.

A man has climbed over the balcony and dropped to his feet. Clad in black from head to toe, he grins at Zuko. “Greetings, Your Majesty.”

“Who are you? What do you want?” He sounds calm but like her, he too is in a fighting stance, feet planted solidly on the floor, hands balled into fists at his side. Gone is the rumpled, cake-loving boy—in his place stands a deadly warrior.

“I’m no one, and everyone,” the intruder replies coolly, pacing from side to side.

“Catchy,” says Katara, not taking her eyes off him, cursing herself for not having her water canteen on her. “But that tells us nothing. Why are you here?”

He turns to her, appraising her from head to toe. “Good question. I’m here because I was told he’d be alone. Instead, I find him here with a date. Anyway, doesn’t matter. The more the merrier.”

“What do you want?” Zuko repeats, his voice a low growl.

“You, of course.”

“I’d like to see you try.” Zuko punches out a plume of flame so bright it turns night into day. But the assassin is ready. He moves his arm and a smooth disc of metal grows in his hand, blocking the fire and dispersing it on all sides. Katara averts her head from the heat. “He’s a metalbender!” she yells.

The fire had evaporated all the water from the air; Katara draws every drop she can muster from the soil and plants around her, sending Oromi a mental apology, and takes control of the water. There’s not enough room for one of her signature water whips. She flings ice daggers at the same time Zuko attacks with a rapid series of fireballs. Forced to parry their combined charges, the assassin should have been cornered and trapped, and that should have been the end of it.

But with a twist of his hand, the man curves his metal shield, deflecting her daggers and sending them onto the fireballs. There’s a great sizzle and a large cloud of steam mushrooms in the air. Taking advantage of the distraction, he tosses something at Zuko.

“Zuko!” she shouts. She hears a yelp of pain and a thud. The steam is still hanging in the air; she can’t see. She frantically bends the vapour, blowing it away into the night sky, beyond the balcony. Cool air rushes in, stinging her scalded skin. Her sight clears. And there’s Zuko on the ground, squirming, as twisting ropes of metal wrap around his ankles, wrists, torso, and most alarmingly, his neck. Katara moves towards him.

The assassin laughs. “One more step, girl, and I squeeze the life out of him.” The rope around Zuko’s neck tightens and he chokes.

Katara stops. Her mind is working rapidly, one eye on the bindings around Zuko, and one eye on the assassin. She’s out of breath, her hair is burned, her gown is ripped in places, and she’s out of water. She hadn’t worn a water canteen with her water gown. She hadn’t expected trouble inside the palace. She’d grown complacent. And now that was going to cost Zuko his life.

“If you’re going to kill me, just get on with it,” spits Zuko between gritted teeth. “But let her go.”

“Zuko, shut up. I’m not going anywhere.”

“How about this, I torture the Fire Lord, extract some information out of him, and then kill you both. How does that sound?”

“Why are you doing this?” asks Katara.

“To return things to the way they were, of course.”

She snorts. “Heard that before.”

A furious look splits his face. “You wouldn’t understand, little waterbender. Go back to your primitive backwaters and don’t interfere.”

Katara glances up at the starry sky. Get him angry, keep him talking.

“How come a metalbender is interfering with the Fire Nation’s state of affairs then?”

“I’m not interfering! I have a personal stake in this.”

“What, money? Did some disgruntled Fire Nation lord pay you to topple the throne? Or are you a Azula sympathiser, clinging to some romantic notions of an autocracy? Or god forbid, are you one of those nutjobs who want to bring Ozai back?” She mocks a look of disgust and horror.

The man clenches and unclenches his jaw. She can sense that his anger is rising, he’s bursting to defend himself.

“Okay I have two more guesses.” Katara is talking faster now. The ropes are now cutting into Zuko’s skin. Despite the pain, he’s been keeping quiet. Perhaps he knows what she’s up to. “You’re an ex Dai Li agent who turned to metalbending and is now taking revenge. No? How about-”

The assassin hurls a block of metal at her stomach, knocking the wind out her. “You’re getting on my nerves now. You’re that waterbender girl, aren’t you? The one who was with the Avatar? I expected better from you. All you have is talk. You don’t have water, what are you going to do?”

And it’s at that exact moment, the clouds in the sky disperse and the full moon reveals itself.

Katara rises up and grins, a slow, unnerving grin. She couldn’t have timed it better herself.

“I don’t need water.”

The man doesn’t know what hits him. One moment he’s in full control, the other he’s a puppet in her hands.

“What is happening to me,” he cries out in fear and pain as his body contorts against his will. The ropes binding Zuko fall away and he springs to his feet. “Keep him there!”

“Gladly,” replies Katara with a grim smile. A fury like she’d never felt before rises in her stomach and she flops the assassin around like a grotesque marionette. He hurt Zuko and he is going to pay for this…

Moments that feel like eternities later, Zuko returns with the palace guards. She releases her control and the man crashes to the floor. Looking shocked and horrified, he scrambles away from her and straight into the waiting arms of the guards.

She rests against a vine-covered wall, suddenly exhausted.

As the guards take the would-be assassin away, the Head Guard insists on staying with Zuko or taking him inside to the medical wing. Zuko shoos them away impatiently. He has eyes only for her.

Once they’re alone, he approaches her. “Are you okay?”

“I should be the one asking you that.”

“I’m fine.” He shows her his neck and wrists where he’d tried to burn through the rope, but the hot metal had only burned him in return. “Nothing that can’t be fixed.”

“I’m sorry about your garden,” she says, gesturing at the dead plants, burnt flowers, and wrecked furniture.

“In retrospect the hanging ivy was a security hazard.”

She laughs. Then sighs. “We’ll need to question the man, find out who he is, what he meant by information-”

Zuko places a hand on her shoulder. “Tomorrow. We’ll deal with him tomorrow.”

Katara leans into him, glad for the support. “You didn’t tell me what you thought of the mooncakes.”

“Katara, I would love the mooncakes even if they tasted of ash.”

“Well, you got your wish.” She smiles and points at the trampled cakes that had been unfortunate enough to come into contact with one of Zuko’s fireballs.

“Another crime to add to the man’s tally.” His expression turns serious. “You were amazing out there, Katara. The bloodbending. You saved my life.”

Katara shifts. While the others had never outright spoken about it, she knew they disapproved of her bloodbending—it was too violent, it was too destructive, it wasn’t like her, etc. etc. But Zuko…the quiet awe is Zuko’s voice is devoid of any judgement. She remembers the same non-judgemental support from the time they went looking for her mother’s killer.

“I want to know what it feels like,” he whispers.

“What?”

Zuko steps closer to her. “I want you to bend my blood. I want to experience what it feels like.”

“What—but no—it’ll hurt you!”

“I should know about it from the training point of view. What if I have to face a bloodbender in battle one day?” he says, matter-of-factly. Then his voice drops to something deep and low. “Besides, I’ve always been curious ever since I saw your bloodbend.”

Katara has a strong feeling that they’re about to cross a line of no return. “Are you sure?”

“I trust you,” is his simple reply.

So Katara goes for it. With trembling fingers, she makes figures in the air, just like Hama had taught her, but gentler, much gentler. She can feel his heart pumping, the blood flowing through his veins. There’s something strangely intimate about having access to his body like this. Zuko watches his hand rise up in the air above his head and come back to rest on her shoulder. He lets out a hiss that could either be of pain or of amazement.

This feeling—of having power over someone, making them do whatever she wanted—was always something that had excited her about bloodbending, and made her feel ashamed of it at the same time. But this was something different. Having power over Zuko, moving his body whatever way she wanted, but only because he was letting her…it ignited something very different in her. An excitement like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Longing. Desire.

She releases the bloodbending and looks up at Zuko. His pupils are dilated. And he’s looking at her with the same excitement. Longing. Desire.

“I had this whole speech planned,” he says hoarsely. “With the candles and the flowers and the cushions under the stars.”

“Another crime to add to the man’s tally,” she repeats in a whisper, their faces closer than ever.

“Should I make my speech now? Katara,” he begins dramatically, “I have known how I felt about you ever since-”

“Zuko,” she advises. “Shut up.”

And they spend the rest of the night in the ruined wreckage of the garden, under the starry sky, on cushions slightly sticky with salmonberry jam, doing a whole lot of shutting up.

Leave a comment on ao3 or read more of my work!

[professor-walnut]

Spoopy Fic for Spoopy Night

Hello it is still probably halloween in the US so TECHNICALLY I’m not late somewhere. Please have this silly goofy wholesome Pokemon Go halloween spookfest story of Professor Willow and his three assistants spending the night in a house that may or may not be a little haunted, that I potentially spent the entire day hyperfixiating on and writing; forgetting to eat or rest in the process.

TW: Mentions of gore, death, rude language, mild body horror (It’s a goofy fun time just with some spooks splattered in) Read below the cut or on Ao3 HERE

“Damn it’s really comin’ down tonight,” Spark jokes loudly over the harsh sound of rain crashing against the metal van roof, nearly falling off his little office chair as the vehicle tips to the side dangerously, his back hitting Blanche’s chair and nearly knocking them over, “heh- and windy too I guess.”

“Please keep to your own space,” Blanche mutters in irritation as they right themself without glancing up from their book, pushing his wheely chair away with their foot.

“AUUGH! How are we supposed to get any work done like this!” Candela snaps from where she’s thrown against the desk she’s standing by, fruitlessly trying to type data onto a tablet. “Prof can you at least try to drive straight!”

“Sorry Candela, the weather is really taking a bad turn; I can hardly see the road,” Professor Willow calls from the drivers seat up front, letting out a worried grunt as the van hits the curb, “I thought we’d make it to the conference tonight but I think it’s getting a little unsafe, I’m looking for somewhere to pull over.”

“Doubt we’re gonna find anywhere out here in the middle of buttfuck nowhere,” Candela calls back, earning her a stern ‘Language’ warning from the man.

“She’s right, we haven’t even passed a gas station for the past several hours, and parking at the side of the road to wait out the storm in a stretch of forest like this doesn’t seem safe, if we have an emergency on our hands out here we would be in trouble hours away from help without any phone signal. It is within our best interest to reach our destination as soon as possible,” Blanche adds, still refusing to look up from their book even as they nearly topple from their chair at a bump in the road. “…The constant poor road conditions however are making me carsick, I wouldn’t be adverse to a break”.

“Yeah I’m really missing the stops, could do with a bathroom soon,” Spark says tiredly, finally giving up on the paperwork he’s trying to do, “If its not safe to drive though I’d rather we didn’t die in a fiery crash in the middle of nowhere. How long d’you think the storm will last?”

“Unless one of you wants to take over driving, you don’t get a say in this,” Willow says exhaustedly, slowing down just a little, “I think I see lights up ahead, fingers crossed it’s a gas station or something.”

“Out here? More likely to be a murder cabin in the woods…” Candela huffs, leaning on the counter to peer out the window. It’s nothing but trees and mist at first, the darkness of the evening and the vicious rain making their surroundings look like the opening to a horror movie. A flash of lightning illuminates a rocky cliff in the distance, the feint silhouette of a building stood high upon it with a single window illuminated in a feint yellow glow. “…Or some haunted manor bullshit….”

“Language, Candela. Final warning,” Willow grunts, the man clearly getting towards the end of his tether after so many hours on the road. “It looks like a house and it seems occupied, hopefully whomever by will be kind enough to give us some shelter until this storm gives out.”

“You can’t be serious?” She argues, shuffling to the side as Spark nudges up beside her to try to get a glance, “This is how people get murdered in movies.”

“Real life isn’t a movie, Candela,” Blanche says flatly, making the woman give them the middle finger. Not that they notice with their nose still pressed in their book.

Lightning flashes again and Spark’s lips form a brief ‘o’ shape as he spots the house too. “Oh yeah, that’s giving huge ‘a killer vampire lives here’ vibes.”

“Right??!” She sighs, “We are totally getting like…demon possessed or something.”

“Hey, I’ll take spooky ghosts for a while so long as they have a bathroom. This van is gonna become a lot scarier than that house could ever be if I don’t get to one soon,” Spark teases, nudging her a little with his elbow as she pulls a face, “Thought you liked spooky movies anyway?”

“Yeah, because I love pointing out how stupid the characters are for getting themselves into these dumb situations,” Candela complaints, nearly jumping alongside Spark as Blanche silently appears between them having abandoned their book.

“We are very off-route,” they say, squinting out at the trees, “that is a large manor house, is it signposted on the map?”

“I don’t think we’re still within the bounds of the map,” Spark comments, snorting when they tilt their head a little at him.

“The roads aren’t well sign posted this side of the country, I probably took a wrong turn somewhere, we have uh…been lost for a little while” the professor admits, almost a little sheepishly, “Maybe whoever lives here can give us some directions once we’re ready to get going again.”

Blanche breathes a sigh through their nose that Candela recognises as a sound of irritation from them. They’ve never been good at handling plans gone awry. “I suppose at least we have plenty of fuel.”

As if comically on cue, the van starts to splutter, all three of them bumping into one another as it suddenly halts and slides a few feet in the wet mud of the country road – lights in the portable lab flickering out and the engine whirring to a quiet stop. Once Candela gets her bearings she shoves Blanche’s arm in the dark.

“Oh, you just HAD to say that didn’t you?”

“How is this my fault?” They argue as they fumble a little trying not to fall over.

“I should have been watching the gauge, I was so busy trying to navigate through the fog and rain-“ The professor mutters mostly to himself, knocking his head back against the headrest exasperatedly before letting out a sigh and pushing open his door. “Alright the three of you, guess we’re walking. Let’s hope the residents of this house have some spare gas on them.”

“It’s raining…” Blanche complains flatly as Candela pulls open the back doors with a grunt, standing in the doorway for a few moments wearily before she hops out into the muddy road.

“Don’t be a baby.”

“I don’t want to get my book wet,” they huff back at her, tucking the hardback novel into their jacket protectively before shifting towards the doors, wrinkling their nose in distaste at the weather. Spark jumps out after Candela, flicking a little water at them teasingly, which makes them glare.

“C’mon your highness, if we sprint we’ll be there in like five minutes,” he snorts, offering them a hand for support as they hop down too, the three of them instantly getting drenched in the pouring rain.

The professor and the trio jog as best they can up the slippery mud road through the fog, Willow almost taking a faceplant when his boots slide around halfway, thankfully Candela catching his arm before he can eat dirt. When they finally reach the stony steps of the gothic mansion they stop to catch their breaths beneath the shelter of the awnings. Spark can visibly see Candela shivering with the cold and shuffles closer to lend his body warmth despite being equally as soaked through, as the Professor knocks the grand metal door knocker loudly.

They wait, silence only broken by the loud sounds of the rain and worryingly close thunder, for what feels like an eternity before he knocks again fruitlessly.

“I didn’t see the light still on when we approached, perhaps they retired for the night?” Blanche offers, starting to shiver violently as well. Candela would comment on the usually refined leader looking comically like a drowned rat if she wasn’t sure she looked equally as bad.

“Hey!! Hellooooo! Please wake up in there! We broke down and need help!” Spark calls to the house, cupping his hands around his mouth for emphasis. “Man…”

“Here let me knock,” Candela huffs impatiently, gently pushing past the bedraggled professor and pushing her wet hair from her eyes before banging her fist directly on the grand wooden door.

Which, to everyone’s surprise, promptly creaks open with the force, nearly sending the woman toppling forwards, caught by the professor grabbing the back of her coat.

“Oh…guess they didn’t lock it,” he mutters, peering inside curiously before taking the lead past his three bewildered assistants and stepping in, brows furrowing at the musty smell and dingy surroundings. “…Hello? Anyone here? We don’t mean to intrude but we’re stuck in the storm and really need some shelter?” he calls into the darkness, being met with no response.

“It looks abandoned,” Blanche comments as they follow him in cautiously, wrinkling their nose in distaste at the entryway; floors caked in dust and old furniture covered in white sheets. “Are you certain you saw a light?”

“Guess we could have imagined it…” He mutters back as the other two push inside, Spark jogging anxiously on the spot while Candela strides ahead to peer up a grand set of stairs.

“Man what a dump, if someone does live here they’re definitely not paying for a cleaner,” Spark snorts, “is there even power?”

“We’ll see soon enough,” Candela grunts as she runs her hand across a peeling wallpapered wall in the dark until she finds a light switch. When she clicks it on it takes a few moments, but sure enough a huge chandelier above them slowly lights up with a warm yellow glow and she grins proudly. “Must have an old generator still working at least.”

“We probably shouldn’t enter any further until we deduct whether or not this home has inhabitants, if someone does live here we are intruding on their private property…” Blanche announces, trying to cut the professor off from wandering aimlessly into one of the dim rooms to explore. “People this far out in the country have been known protect their land with guns rather than Pokémon, we should be cautious not to alert anyone should they be hostile to our plea.”

There’s silence for a moment as the professor frowns thoughtfully, clearly trying to think of a point of argument. However before he can continue the conversation, Spark makes an urgent whining sound from where he’s bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“I gotta go, I really gotta go,” he complains, glancing around before jogging past Candela and heading up the stairs despite Blanche’s protests, “-sorry! I’ve gotta find a bathroom it’s urgent, I’m sure the house owners will understand.”

“Spark, we should really stay together-“ the professor calls after him fruitlessly, letting out a defeated sigh as the younger man disappears from view, his quick footsteps creaking around on the floor above them. “…I suppose we just take things as they come, if we run into someone then we’ll explain our situation and hope for the best. For now we should worry about our current crisis, we’ll all catch hypothermia wandering around in wet clothes like this, and we should see if we can find some fuel for the van. Blanche why don’t you go and see if you can find a fireplace or something to generate us some heat, and Candela can you go hunting around upstairs to see if there’s any spare clothing in any of the rooms. I’ll explore around down here and see if I can find anything of use, if anyone comes into contact with someone then call out and we’ll come running.”

“Have you never watched a horror movie? Splitting up is always the worst thing you can possibly do in situations like this,” Candela argues, sounding offended at even the very concept. She glances towards Blanche for support on the matter, and for a moment they look hesitant as if they want to agree, but instead they glance towards the professor before turning around to do as instructed.

Little suck-up, she thinks.

“If you don’t want to go off on your own then you can come with me searching the downstairs, I won’t make you go wandering if you’re nervous,” Willow says gently, taking his wet glasses off to rub them dry with the cuff of his -also wet- sleeve and offering her a kind smile, “once Spark gets back maybe the three of us can go hunting around upstairs together. It is a little creepy in here.”

Candela wrinkles her nose in disgust and narrows her eyes, crossing her arms stubbornly as she steps back. “I am NOT nervous!” she declares, offence obvious in her voice, “Like I would be scared of some tacky old haunted house! I’m just trying to be the voice of reason, we’re in some mysterious house in the dead of night with no cell phone reception in the middle of a storm, like is no one else seeing how like….textbook murder story this is? I’m trying to stop you three getting slashed by some psycho.”

“Candela, it’s 9pm, it isn’t the dead of night, and it’s just an old house, it’s nothing to be afraid of,” he reassures calmly, holding up his hands defensively at the fiery woman as she huffs and puffs, “there’s no shame in being a little anxious, but I’m sure everything will be just fine, the three of you are my responsibility and I won’t let anything happen to you on my watch.”

Candela throws her hands in the air dramatically with an annoyed grunt, “I am NOT scared! Look, fine, whatever, get slashed for all I care, I’m going,” she snaps, turning sharply and stomping up the first few creaky steps before hesitantly pausing before taking the rest of them significantly lighter- not wanting to crack the moulding old wood and go tumbling through or anything.

“Just call out if you need anything, I’ll be just down here,” the man calls after her softly, making her roll her eyes.

Yeah right.

The landing area at the top of the stairs spans both left and right down a long thin hallway each filled with old doors, some open some closed. There’s a stray old chair on its side in the middle of the path and several broken boards of wood in the flooring that make her debate the structural soundness of this place. No way anyone lives here, if there is someone in the house beyond them then it’s either a squatter or a criminal hiding out or something – which doesn’t really put her mind at ease. Still, there’s no signs of obvious life around that she can see so far. Maybe they just…hallucinated that one light being on. Or maybe it was a fire type in the window taking shelter from the storm – it’s not uncommon for slugma and magby to take shelter in buildings to get out of the rain; farmhouses where she grew up had endless trouble with hay fires in the stormy season. She could only hope they wouldn’t have to deal with a fire in a dusty old place like this, but at least they had Blanche around with an obscene amount of water types on hand.

To the left, the end of the hallway turns up to another set of stairs, and to the right it curves around a corner along what she assumes is more hallway. She opts for the right, slowly avoiding cracked floorboards as she navigates the dimly lit hallway. Pushing open the first door she finds to only be met with an empty room; small with a single window, no furniture inside except a moulding rug on the floor. The next room looks like a storage room, old empty suitcases and boxes stacked wall to wall, floor to ceiling, filled with books turning black with damp and old yellowing newspapers and all manner of other things Candela deems just trash. 

The third room she pushes into looks like a bedroom, there’s still an old bed in the corner fit with yellowing sheets that don’t seem to have been touched in years, a few pieces of outdated furniture against the walls. Wandering inside she approaches an old dresser, wrestling the top drawer open despite its rusted hinges and smirking in success when she finds clothes and linins still inside – a little discoloured but seemingly dry and free from mould, as far as she can tell in the low lighting.

She picks up what looks like an old nightgown, it’s not her preferred style but right now she’d take anything if it meant getting out of her drenched coat and warming up a bit. If she has to look like a Victorian maiden for one night then so be it.

As Candela is rummaging through the musty smelling clothes picking out whatever seems like it might fit her companions, she’s suddenly taken off guard by something hard slamming into her back, claws digging into her skin- she lets out a panicked gasp, barely restraining a scream as she swings around fast-

“Squeaks no!” Spark’s voice grunts as he rushes into the room, prying the chunky Pikachu off her back “-Sorry, I let him out because the bathroom light was broke and he knows flash but he’s a little zazzed out from the thunder storm.”

“Ow fuck, trim his claws Spark!” Candela snaps breathlessly, trying to regain her composure quickly as she shoves the armful of clothes on top of the dresser to free up a hand to rub her back. “Geez…”

“Pii…” The Pokémon squeak, clearly not in the slightest apologetic as he wriggles in Spark’s grip and lets off little sparks from his cheeks irritably as he tries to free himself.

“Say sorry bud, you spooked Candela,” Spark warns, sighing when the Pokémon in his hands presents a petulant “pikapi” and zaps him a little. “You’re such a little butt when it’s storming.”

“He didn’t spook me he just caught me off guard,” Candela grunts at him, narrowing her eyes warningly before grabbing one of the off-coloured nightgowns and throwing it at him, “and scratched the shit out of my back.”

“You were totally spooked,” he teases, shifting the tantruming pikachu under one arm to wrestle the nightgown out of his face and hold it up with a look of distain. “It’s fine though, this place is giving me the major willies. I walked into a room with a straight-up giant taxidermy ursaring in the doorway and nearly pissed myself like five minutes ago, I am already so over this spookfest already and we only just got here.”

“Who even says willies anymore? You’re so weird,” She grunts, gathering the other gowns into her arms, at least cracking a smirk at the face he pulls, “What? You too proud to wear a dress?”

“I just think a sleeveless number suits my body type better, and look how long this thing is? What am I, a prude? How am I going to show off the results of leg day?” Spark teases, matching her grin with one of his own, “’Least the ghosts might think we’re one of ‘em if we’re dressed the part.”

“Beats being soaked,” she says, nudging him with her elbow, “shove off into a different room so I can change, don’t need you ogling my ass.”

“I would never!” Spark announces, faux defence in his voice as he and Squeaks jog out to find another room to change in, “I seriously can’t wait to see the prof in one of these…”

“Right?” Candela snorts, clicking the door shut behind him and changing, listening in amusement to the muffled sounds of him fumbling around trying to get his soaked skin tight pants off in the room next door through the thin, mildew coated walls. “You need help in there?”

A muffled crash and a quiet curse. “I’m all good!”

He stumbles out into the hallway as she opens the door, throwing his arms out proudly in his new attire. “Am I serving looks or what?”

“You’re definitely serving…something,” she laughs, noting how the Pikachu is once again running around their feet like a caffeinated toddler as she gestures with her chin towards the stairs before falling into pace next to the man. “Are all electric types off their nut like this when it’s storming?”

“Nah, I mean some do for sure. Electabuzz tend to lose their shit the second there’s thunder, it’s like dosing ‘em up with coffee. Some pikachu love it, some don’t care much, Squeaks has always been sensitive to it. Yamper though, I’ve met some that like it and some that are super freaked out by it, my Boltund hides under the couch and cries until I carry him around like a baby,” Spark laughs, “Might be because Zapdos tried to eat him once, though.”

“Interesting choice of attire,” Blanche’s flat voice cuts off Candela from replying as the two reach the bottom of the staircase and the Mystic leader appears from one of the doorways, trying to wring the water from their long ponytail with one hand while holding a few wooden logs under the other.

“Sorry, it’s not like there was a retail store up there,” Candela huffs, “I’ll have you know I slay in any outfit. D’you get a fire burning?”

“I found a fireplace and firewood, a little old but it seems dry enough, though I was unable to find matches. I was hoping you could lend the ability of one of your fire types,” Blanche says calmly, eying the both of them up and down with barely concealed amusement as if they aren’t the one still dripping everywhere. “I have also discovered the source of the light in the window you likely saw.”

“Oh?” Spark perks up curiously, the two of them following as Blanche leads them back into the room they just appeared from. 

It’s a dim library like room with a few lounge chairs and an old couch covered in mildew, bookshelves lining the walls leading up to a grand fireplace. It’s slightly lighter at one end of the room due to the immediately obvious little cluster of nervous litwick hiding beneath a coffee table. The more Candela looks around, the more she spots stray ones hiding between books on the shelves and peeking out from under the couches.

“I tried to convince them to aid me in lighting the fire but they seem anxious of people. It is best we give them some space,” Blanche explains, “They do not seem hostile but all Pokémon can be unpredictable when frightened.”

“They’re so cute,” Candela coos, blatantly ignoring Blanche’s words as she approaches a smaller than average litwick on a shelf and crouches down to eye level, the tiny candle nervously flickering its flame at her in a weak display of threat. “Guess there are some ghosts in this place.”

“I’m totally okay with a creepy mansion only haunted by sleepy little ghost-types like this,” Spark laughs, smiling and waving at one who watches him curiously. “Think we can catch a few before we leave?”

“Candela. Fire type.” Blanche asserts impatiently, gesturing at the fireplace as they drop the dusty wooden logs into it before hugging themself to retain some body heat. “I wouldn’t risk it, there could be a protective chandelure around somewhere.”

“A ‘please’ would be nice,” Candela grunts as she parts herself from the cute little candle to toss out one of her pokeballs. Her neat little flareon lands gracefully on the wooden floors, immediately glancing around curiously at its surroundings and blinking a few times at a litwick close by as if asking a silent question. Candela offers her a reassuring little smile, “Mind helping us with the fireplace, Cayenne?”

With an enthusiastic “Flare!” the little pokemon turns and spits a powerful ember into the dry wood of the fireplace, lighting it instantly and bathing the room in a warmer glow.

“Go become a creepy Victorian ghost like us before you freeze to death,” Candela teases as she tosses one of the nightgowns in her arm to Blanche. They linger close to the fireplace trying to warm some feeling back into their hands for a few minutes before reluctantly stepping away with the bundle of fabric. “Any sign of the prof?”

“I haven’t seen him since he left to explore,” they murmur as they leave the room.

“What’s the bet he’s somehow gotten lost and stumbled on like some secret crypt where he’s uncovered some deadly monster that’s been sealed for several centuries,” Spark laughs as he throws himself dramatically onto the couch, sending a cloud of dust into the air that makes him start coughing.

“Don’t even joke, he totally would,” Candela snorts back as she comes over to fan the dusty air around him, patting his back as he wheezes for air through coughs, “geez why would you jump on that, you’re probably inhaling like six billion years’ worth of spores.”

“House can’t be that old if it has electricity, someone must have lived here until at least like- man when was electricity invented? Like the 40s?” He coughs, rubbing dust out of his watery eyes. “Eww don’t say that…”

“Like the 1700s, dumbass. Electric lights have been around since like the late 1800s,” Candela grunts, “You need some water or something?”

Spark looks about to respond when the both of them are interrupted by a loud, terrified yelp accompanied by quick footsteps. The professor bursts in through a door, looking almost white and making them both jump, Spark leaping to his feet and Candela rushing to the man’s side, Cayenne at her feet, fiery scruff raised in alarm.

“What happened?” She asks as she grabs the older man’s shoulder, giving him a slight shake as she glances around warily. “Are you okay?”

Eyes wide, Willow fumbles for a few moments as if processing who he’s run into before putting a hand onto her shoulder as well with a heavy breath. “-I think I just- there was a ghost!“

“I’m not a ghost,” a particularly irritated voice sounds as a figure follows him through the door he just came through, almost making Candela jump too – then making her wheeze out a breathy laugh.

Blanche narrows their eyes at her in irritation before shooting Spark a glare as he starts snort laughing too. In the white gown with their long white hair free from its usual ponytail to allow it to dry, it’s not hard to see how the professor could mistake them for something scary – they remind Candela a little of a ghostly white version of the creepy woman from the ring.

As the professor gets a proper look at them he holds a hand to his heart as he lets out a deep sigh, the colour quickly returning to his face as he releases a sheepish chuckle. “Ah…sorry, Blanche.”

When they don’t respond, giving him an irritated scowl instead, Willow awkwardly turns to put a bag in his hands down on the armchair closest to him, pulling out a few odds and ends from within to show off to the trio as if nothing had just happened. “Not much here, seems over the years people and Pokémon have picked it clean, but I found a few un-damaged cans of soup in one of the kitchen cupboards – not sure if they’re still palatable but it’s something. There’s running water still, and I found a little pack of bandages and a few bottles of alcohol should anyone sustain an injury. No gas, however.”

“I found some dry clothes, and it seems like there’s still beds and stuff here if we need to stay the night,” Candela adds, scratching the side of her neck thoughtfully before tossing the prof the last nightgown, “I still think this whole situation gives huge ‘we’re gonna get murdered like in a horror film’ vibes, but if our only other option is freezing to death in a van with no power, guess dying in a haunted house is at least a more interesting way to go.”

“I’m kinda into it actually. Hot soup, warm fire, chilling with friends in a cool haunted house this close to Halloween, it’s kinda fun,” Spark teases as he sits down again, at least more gently this time to avoid spreading more dust. “Not how I thought I’d be spending my Friday night, but I’ll take it.”

Blanche, disinterested in the conversation, has wandered over to one of the bookshelves to carefully remove a leatherbound book, eyeing it in their hands appraisingly as if curious about the reading material available here, “Once the storm gives out, if we are unable to find any petroleum to power the vehicle, we may have to travel to the nearest town by foot to seek roadside assistance due to the lack of phone signal in the area. This time I shall lead the way, given it has been proven to me that certain members of our party cannot correctly read a map,” they announce, side eying the professor with a frown – which makes the man laugh nervously, “for now I suppose we should be grateful that we came across appropriate shelter in our time of need, and should make the most of what fate has provided us.”

“Couldn’t have said it better myself,” Willow laughs gently, tossing a can of soup to Spark and then one to Candela. “Why don’t the three of you see if any of this is edible so we can rustle up some dinner while I go and get changed and join the costume party.”

--

Within half an hour the four of them are sat around the fireplace with mugs full of warm soup, Candela and Blanche huddled together on the carpet while Willow sits across from Spark on the old sofa. Although the soup – leak and potato, she thinks – is a little bland and gritty, it’s not unappetising and doesn’t smell expired, and Candela enjoys the feeling of the warm crockery mug beneath her palms. It feels surprisingly cosy, the sounds of rain hitting the windows outside and deep thunder rolling overhead, the quiet crackling of the fire and the soft sounds of her friends sipping and occasionally murmuring to each other.

Cayenne is curled up in fireplace, she’s pretending to sleep but Candela can tell she always has one eye cracked open to keep an look out for dangers, and Squeaks is still bouncing around on one of the armchairs, a little bundle of energy  - a couple of young litwick seem curious of him and have climbed onto the arms of the chair, seemingly enjoying being jolted around by his bouncing.

It’s not the clean, well catered hotel at the Pokémon convention centre she was expecting to spend the night at, but she has to admit, it’s not so bad here.

“I admit, I was a little disappointed we wouldn’t get to attend one of your famous Halloween parties this year due to the timing of the convention,” the professor says to Spark with a soft chuckle as he swirls the thick soup in his mug around as if it’s a fine whisky, “At least we’re getting some Halloween spooks after all this year. Perhaps we should pass the time with some scary stories? Blanche, you’re good at those.”

“Since when does dweeb central know scary stories?” Candela asks teasingly, bumping Blanche with her shoulder and almost making them spill their soup.

“I’ll have you know I used to be very enraptured by gothic fiction during my adolescence,” they remark back huffily, putting their half empty mug on the floor to free up their hands – then watching cautiously as a couple of small litwick approach curiously to sniff it. “In fact as an act of rebellion against my father’s dislike for the Halloween season, I used to sneak out to the local graveyard to read works of gothic horror fiction by candlelight in the dead of night. I am very well versed in the horror genre.”

Spark lets out a snort of amusement, leaning forward in interest. “I can’t imagine you as a little goth teen,” he notes before suddenly looking kinda thoughtful and waving his hand, “…actually I totally can. You like, never smile and use tons of long words. Dye your hair black and you’d slay the emo goth vibe.”

“Oh my god now you say that I can totally see that,” Candela giggles, making Blanche give her an exasperated frown, “Blanchey Dark’ness Dementia Raven Way”

“I wasn’t into gothic fashion, I just enjoyed the literacy genre, it was a guilty pleasure,” Blanche shrugs, tucking a strand of hair behind their ear grumpily.

“They regaled a great tale about someone haunted by a phantump last year while we were working late the night before Halloween, kept me up for days,” Willow laughs cheerfully, the compliment making the Mystic leader blush. “Why not share a few other spooks and scares? This is certainly the place for it after all.”

“Yeah c’mon, give us the best you got. I’m warning you though, we don’t spook as easy as the professor,” Spark encourages eagerly, pulling his legs up onto the couch to get comfortable.

“While I’m sure some Edgar Allen Poe would do nothing but put you to sleep, I suppose the current surroundings do bring to mind a true tale I remember from childhood which some may describe as eerie,” Blanche begins thoughtfully, placing their hands in their lap politely as they shift around to face Spark in the dim firelight. Candela shifts too, turning around on the carpet so that she’s facing them, a smug grin painted on her face.

“What? Did you see a spooky ghost in that graveyard you were hanging around in?” She teases gently, making Blanche roll their eyes.

“Thankfully, it is not a story in which I was a part of. Do you remember the Graveler house?” They say slowly, looking somewhat pleased when the mention of the place makes both Candela and Spark’s faces fall a little.

Growing up in Trichroma town, every kid in the area knew about the Graveler house. It was an abandoned old state-house behind the hospital with bordered up windows and old tattered police tape wrapped around it’s grand steel fences. Rumour had it that it had been home to the rich old man who had founded the hospital in the 1830s, no-one went inside for all the stories that it was cursed or haunted. It had been a popular spot for teenagers to visit on Halloween nights to scare each other for a while, until several missing-persons reports had started to come about – people going in and never coming back out, the police never finding them. After that, even the bravest teenagers avoided the place.

“What do YOU know about the Graveler house?” Spark asks curiously, glancing at the professor as if he could give some answers, only to look back to Blanche when the older man looks just as confused.

“As a child I had taken a particular interest in some of the more violent parts of history, and at one point I had a special fondness for collecting books and journals on Victorian serial killers,” Blanche admits, looking a little sheepish when the professor looks somewhat disturbed, “…It was just a phase. At age twelve I remember being fascinated with H.J. Graveler, the initial owner of Graveler house. He had been a philanthropist in the eyes of the townsfolk, though he had hidden a dark secret. In constructing the hospital so close to his estate, he had designed a tunnel between his home and the morgue, in which he would pay doctors to deliver corpses to him. For what reason, it was never discovered, and the bodies he stole were never reported recovered. To this day no one knows what he did with them all, and there were supposable hundreds in total, he reportedly confessed before his execution that he ‘needed to feed it’, never clarifying what ‘it’ was; and people speculated he was feeding the bodies to a Pokémon, though again, no evidence was ever found to support this. I was fascinated by the mystery of it all, though books could only take me so far. My curiosity was insatiable and for weeks it distracted me from my schoolwork just thinking about it. Eventually I could take it no longer and turned to the only source I could think of for more information on the mysteries, I went to pay a visit to Mr Albert Calgary.”

When Sparks eyes widen a little, Willow frowns in confusion. “Who’s Mr Calgary?”

Candela snorts and turns her head to glance at him, “Crazy guy who lived on the outskirts of town, real nutcase, had one eye and claimed he could see dead people and stuff, everyone used to say he was normal as a kid, but one night he went into the Graveler house and vanished, only to return years later completely off his rocker.”

“I was terrified of him growing up. My mom used to say if I didn’t behave she’d sell me to him and he’d make me into soup,” Spark laughs awkwardly, scratching his head a little, “seems kinda mean now, poor old guy was probably just dealing with some mental stuff yanno?”

Blanche watches them quietly as they silence themselves for them to continue, the eerie glow of curious litwick and the flickering fireplace illuminating their white hair and gown in a ghostly ethereal glow.

“He was a nice man, jittery and nervous but kind. It’s impossible to know how mentally sound his story was, considering his unstable general mental health, but the tale he regaled to me that night I visited him stuck with me for years,” they explain slowly, eyes serious and voice cold. “It had all started the night he went to visit the house; he had been fourteen, fifteen the following November, and him and two other adolescent boys, Raphael Carver and Michael Stevens had made Halloween plans to break into the abandoned house to explore. It had seemed like fun and games for the three boys, nothing more. They had entered at ten, roaming the hallways and hiding in broken old closets to try to scare one another. It was only come midnight when Albert discovered a patch of uneven floorboards beneath the carpet and the boys pulled them back to find the old hidden stairway to the hospital tunnel beneath the house that things took a dark turn.”

Slowly, Blanche lifts back up their mug of soup and takes a sip, allowing their words to settle before they continue, closing their eyes calmly almost as if meditating while they speak. “The three boys had gathered flashlights and climbed down into the unlit abyss, noting it’s musty vile smell and unnatural darkness they had each felt a tinge of fear, however each had neglected to mention it in fear of inciting mockery from the others. The long concrete tunnel seemed to stretch for miles, further than their flashlights could light, and when they each reached the bottom of those stairs they found the floor to be oddly wet. Albert recalls the words in his mind; “Go back. Go back now,” voicing that they did not sound like his own – despite this he chalked it down to simple nerves playing tricks on his subconscious. The three boys decided amongst themselves to explore the tunnel in its length, to see where it may lead, so they began, Albert leading the way as they entered the dark abyss before them. He recalled it feeling like walking into a black hole, the darkness so intense it almost seemed to swallow the beams of their flashlights, engulfing them the further they ventured.”

Thunder rumbles outside loudly and the chandelier on the ceiling flickers dangerously for a moment, making Willow jump slightly. Candela sniggers at him.

“Minutes passed, then hours, the boys seemed to walk until their feet ached in their shoes and there was no sign of end in sight, yet no-one suggested turning back. As Albert described it; ‘It felt like something was there in the darkness. Following us. At first I thought it just in my mind, there were no footsteps, no breathing or sounds of life, just a feeling as if something lurked behind every step we took. However, none of us dared to speak, none of us dared to look around. We all felt it, the feeling of danger, the immense dread creeping up our spines. If we stopped, if we so much as looked, we would come into contact with…something, and it scared us, so we continued in silence, praying we would find an exit’. The stench in the tunnel grew strong and sour, like the rotting sludge in the bottom of a compost bin, it turned their stomachs, and the more the ground squelched uncomfortably underfoot, the more he wondered what exactly was causing the moisture in these sealed catacombs.” Blanche continues, “Eventually the three boys walked for so long that their flashlights ran out of power, flickering out one. by. one. until they were left walking in pitch darkness. No sounds but their footsteps, the sensory ability of sight being void causing them to hallucinate faces and figures in the darkness. He said they were hearing voices echoing from the walls – voices that sounded much like nurses and doctors, speaking in hushed tones, sometimes they’d see figures rushing past with hospital beds – like lucid glowing dreams. Eventually Albert and his friends thought they were saved when a quiet breeze began to blow against their faces from ahead – ‘an exit’, he’d thought. The three held hands as they continued forward, cautious about separating in the pitch black void that had become their prison for many hours now. Frightened and weary they stumbled blindly towards the source, his friends reaching out until their hands found the edges of a creaky door, cold air seeming to ooze through its cracks. They knocked – no, slammed their fists and palms against the wood, calling out for whomever may be beyond the other side listening; praying someone would hear their plight and set them free. For a moment, Albert thought they may be alone, but then beyond the door he heard a click – like a switch being turned on, and suddenly the tunnel erupted into light so bright it blinded him after being in the darkness for so long. He shut his eyes tight, crying out in pain, reaching out for his friends but finding no-one at his sides. After a few moments he fearfully forced open one eye, suffering the bright light to try to see what had become of his companions – however what he was met with instead haunted him enough that viewing it for but a second caused him to reach up with his icy cold fingers and dig the tainted eyeball from its socket with his bare hands, screaming as he felt the tendrils twist and snap, warm blood running down his face. So afraid of the sight before him that he feared it would be imprinted into that eye forever.”

“This got real gory real fast,” Candela says quietly, briefly glancing at the professor who’s turned an ashen pallor. “Maybe a little less brutal with the details for those of us with weaker stomachs, hm?”

“Sorry,” Blanche says gently as they turn to the professor, holding up a hand in a polite gesture of apology.

“What….did he see that made him tear his eye out?” Spark asks quietly, and they note that Squeaks has stopped his frantic zoomies to crawl into the man’s lap as if sensing his trainer’s desire for comfort suddenly.

“There is little way to re-tell of the imagery he imparted upon me that day without delving into gore filled language that would sour the strongest stomach. He spoke of human remains lining every wall and floor, stretched out with their skins knitted together, like a long tunnel of flesh, unable to tell where one person began and another started. On the wall opposite his eyes locked with two familiar faces, fresh in comparison to the shrivelled and dried up others – his friends, Raphael and Michael, their bodies unmistakable yet flayed open and joined together on the wall. Something large and dark was crouched there, too many legs like a spider, slowly joining them together with needle and thread using it’s too-long arms.” They explain slowly, locking eyes with Willow the entire time almost apologetically as the man looks a little green around the edges, “Albert felt a hand once again re-take his own, and he knew in that moment that the hands he had been holding in the darkness all this time did not belong to his friends – in fear, he tore away and began to run, refusing to open his other eye should he see more of the horrors around him.”

They finish their soup, placing the mug carefully back on the floor and brushing invisible flecks of dust from their lap calmly as if this was nothing more than an interesting story from the morning paper, “Albert claimed he never stopped running, blind and afraid and alone until one day he stumbled through a door into a hospital morgue, terrifying the staff. Years had passed since he had vanished, yet he claimed he had never stopped to eat or drink or sleep. When police explored the remains of the tunnels they found no sign of anything Albert had described, and no sign of his missing friends either. He was chalked up to being insane, driven mad by fear – some even theorised he slaughtered his two friends and hid their bodies somewhere in that tunnel. However, the man remained insistent until the day of his death that his story was true, convinced that he entered some strange pocket dimension within the tunnel where a person or creature darker than anything we could ever imagine was hunting him.”

Thunder crackles once more, rattling the old walls of the house, and Blanche turns to Candela with…eerily empty eyes. “Some say if you walk through that tunnel today, sometimes – just for a moment, you’ll catch the drifting smell of rotting flesh, or hear the cries of the lost echoing through the concrete walls. As if something lingers in the darkness just beyond sight, something sinister we may never understand.”

As if on some creepy cue, the chandelier above flickers out, plunging the room into shadow – furniture and faces only lit by the eerie glow of the fire. Spark yelps and Candela can’t hold back a snort.

“It’s just a story, Spark.”

“A possibly TRUE story!” he snips back a little defensively, letting out a nervous chuckle to lighten the mood. “You gotta admit the timing of that was creepy as hell…”

“Power cut, the lightning must have caught the surge protector and blown a fuse,” Blanche offers casually, eyes turning to the ashen white professor. “Are you okay?”

“….Just fine,” Willow says a little too quickly, offering them a tight smile as his eyes dart around the dim space. “…Perhaps you wouldn’t mind searching out the basement to….switch the fuse box? See if you can get these lights back working again?” He chuckles anxiously.

“Me?” Blanche asks, sounding almost a little taken back and glancing quickly between Spark and Candela. “…Candela has fire types and Spark has electric types, I do not possess any Pokémon capable of generating light. It would make far more sense for one of them to go instead.”

Despite their calm demeanour, Candela notes easily that the Mystic leader usually jumps on the chance to do anything the professor asks like the little teacher’s pet they are, and it makes her smile grow wider. “Aww, Blanche. Are you scared to go by yourself?”

They glance towards her sharply to argue, though hesitate for a moment too long – which only fuels Candelas delight. “I am not scared, I would simply prefer not to be fumbling around in the darkness unnecessarily.”

“Why don’t all three of you go? Blanche is right, you’ll need Pokémon in order to see what you’re doing down there, and we don’t know how safe the structures in this building are – it will be safer if you go as a group, if anyone gets hurt then one of you can stay with them and the other can come back and get me for help,” Willow instructs gently, which earns him a distressed look from Spark.

“I have to go too?!”

“It’s just a creepy dark basement in a creepy dark house on a creepy dark night, “Candela teases as she stands up, offering a hand to Blanche as she grins at Spark, “…Not unlike that story I guess. Maybe the three of us will find walls covered in human flesh down there?”

“Man, don’t even,” Spark whines as he stands up too, shuffling over to the other two reluctantly, “If I see so much as a glimpse of anything flesh-y in this place I am out of here so fast. You won’t even see me go, I will just be GONE. Bu-bye, you are on your own. Absolutely no way.”

“Wimp,” Candela snorts, “You gonna be okay on your own for a hot minute, prof?”

Willow glances around anxiously, seemingly taking comfort in a few small litwick that have curled up close to his side for a nap. “…I think so, I’m fine – perhaps a little rattled by that…colourful… story, that’s all.”

“Shout out if you need anything and we’ll come right back,” She reassures him gently before waving Cayenne out of the fireplace, the little flareon padding over to her heel obediently. Squeaks on the other hand looks as unwilling as his trainer – Spark scoops the Pikachu up like he’s a sack of flour and tucks him into the breast of his nightgown protectively.

--

Even with two Pokémon providing light, it takes the trio a good ten minutes to find the doorway leading to the basement stairs, discretely tucked away beneath the grand staircase back in the dark lobby. Blanche is the one to wrestle it open, the old hinges rusted and sticking. The rickety wooden staircase seems to stretch down into a dark abyss that even flareons warm glow doesn’t reach from the top, it’s almost looking like a surreal pathway into nothingness.

The three stand in the doorway staring for a solid while, almost enraptured by the eerie staircase as wind whistles through the windows around them and harsh rain clatters against the rooftops. There’s a quiet creak from the darkness below – likely old plumbing or rotting wooden beams crumbling under their own weight, but Candela feels Spark jolt a little next to her from the sound and she rolls her eyes – though makes no move of her own to continue forwards.

“Well?” She asks Blanche – who turns to give her a confused look.

“Well what?”

“Get going. We haven’t got all day.”

They screw their nose up a little. “Why do I have to go first?”

“Cayenne will be right on your heels, don’t be a baby. The prof DID ask you first, and besides, you’re the youngest.”

“What does that have to do with anything?!” They ask, irritation clear in their voice as they squint at her a little before shuffling forward. They take a step into the doorway, foot hovering above the first step for a few moments before they hesitantly pull it back, as if unable to pass some invisible barrier. “…You’re the oldest, you should go first.”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the dark, Mystic?” Candela teases, grinning widely as they turn a little pink and shoot her a glare. It’s so fucking easy to get under their skin.

“I am not a child, Candela. Of course I’m not afraid of the dark,” they say sharply, turning back towards the gaping doorway when Spark also starts muffling a laugh. Tilting their chin up a little stubbornly they take a step forward and start down the creaky staircase slowly.

Candela is about to follow when Spark puts his hand on the door in front of her, a barely restrained look of mischievous glee in his eyes, and she covers her mouth with a little grin as she watches him slam the door shut behind them. Both of them listening as Blanche’s slow footsteps scramble back up the steps immediately and they pound on the door with their hands in a panic.

He tugs open the door with a giggle as they stumble back out, wide-eyed and looking slightly ruffled and breathless, then turning quite red when the two of them start laughing at their break in composure.

“That was not funny,” they grit out in distaste.

“It was pretty funny, “Spark wheezes, shoulders quivering as he tries to regain some composure, “You’re totally scared of the dark, that is so rich after you nearly scared the pants off me and the professor with that dumb story.”

“I am NOT afraid of the dark,” they insist frustratedly, shoving his arm away inelegantly when he tries to pull them into a reassuring one-armed hug. “You are both such children.”

“C’mon enough messing around,” Candela chuckles, shaking her head as she gathers up her long night skirt in her arms so she won’t trip and starts down the stairs confidently as if she’s merely heading to do laundry, Cayenne hopping down each step after her. “Let’s get these lights back on before the prof gets spooked by a shadow or something back there.”

Spark follows tentatively, Squeaks still held firmly against his chest, and the man doesn’t miss how Blanche silently grabs the back of his nightgown as they follow too.

“We’re looking for a breaker box, it’s likely located on one of the walls at eye level – it should be a large metal box containing rows of switches,” Blanche says slowly as the three of them reach the bottom of the staircase, squinting around in the dark at all they can see with only the light of Squeaks and Cayenne.

It’s a much larger room than expected, their small bubble of light doesn’t reach all the way to a wall on three sides, instead illuminating high stacks of mouldering cardboard boxes and  unidentifiable pieces of oddly shaped furniture covered in old sheets. There’s a few rolled up carpets, some old cabinets, many rows of shelves stocking all sorts of unidentifiable things, what looks to be a grand piano covered in dust and cobwebs – whoever used to live here must have been a hoarder.

 “Man what a dump, this is gonna take forever,” Spark mutters as he wanders a little to the right, squinting to try to figure out just how big this space is. He passes a dirty old mirror, pausing to watch his reflection curiously, “-damn this place is creepy.”

“We should split up, I’ll head left, you head right, Blanche you go straight ahead, we’ll cover the space quicker, which means we can get out of this dump quicker,�� Candela says casually.

“You were totally against splitting up earlier! What happened to ‘horror movie characters doing dumb things’?!” Spark argues, swinging back around at the idea.

“I do not have a light. Going off by myself would be inefficient,” Blanche adds with a dismissive grunt, staying fairly close to the man.

“You have a phone right?” Candela says playfully.

“We have no signal here.”

“…Blanche your phone has a flashlight on it.”

Spark’s anxiety seems to fade as he lets out a snort at the Mystic leader’s face as they send Candela an embarrassed glare before reluctantly taking out their phone. “…So it does…I failed to think of that.”

  “Sure you did,” Candela says cheerfully, delighting in their sheepish frown before turning to Spark. “It’s just one room, and so far there’s been no sign of anything weird around, just pull up your big boy pants and go, Instinct, it’ll take like five minutes with us all looking.”

“Aw man c’mon, I don’t wanna wander around in the dark after that freaky flesh tunnel story,” Spark complains, though reluctantly stays put as Candela starts walking off anyway.

“Don’t call it the ‘flesh tunnel story’, it sounds dirty,” Blanche tells him flatly before shining their weak phone flashlight down a narrow path between stacks of boxes, hesitantly starting towards the far side of the room.

“You’re right, pretty sure I watched a weird porno called that once…” he mutters back, cracking a tiny smile at the disgusted sound they respond with as they disappear into the dark. “…Will you guys at least marco polo with me so I know you’re still there?”

“Fine, just don’t be annoying about it,” Candela calls from the darkness, voice bouncing off walls and boxes and making it hard to figure out where she even is in the space.

“Just you and me then,” Spark whispers to Squeaks, the Pikachu pulling his head down below the collar of Sparks shirt petulantly. “…Or just me, I guess.” He turns to the right and starts walking.

--

The basement, as it turns out, seems to span the width of the entire house. Candela finds herself walking for what feels like an absurdly long time, weaving in and out of rows of shelves full of unidentified things and stacks of boxes haphazardly blocking her path at every turn. Never seeming to come across a wall. It almost feels reminiscent to Blanche’s eternal tunnel story and leaves a sour taste in her mouth despite knowing full well this is a perfectly normal place only made eerie by the darkness.

Cayenne pads along by her feet, every so often stopping to curiously sniff a box or hop up to walk on a low shelf. The faint glow of her scruff and tail doesn’t provide much light, but it’s enough to navigate the immediate surroundings and stop Candela falling over stray items littered everywhere. Occasionally she’ll hear a faint “Marco!” from Spark, somewhere from afar in the vast room, and she’ll call back “Polo!” loudly to reassure him – rolling her eyes despite the fact his voice is also putting her at ease too.

The whole room smells musty, like old rotting papers and moth-eaten clothing; it sort of reminds her of her great grandmothers attic as a kid.

Pushing past what seems to be an old dress mannequin, she walks face first into a spindly cobweb and stumbles back a little with a splutter, thrashing her arms to get it out of her hair. “Eww- shit- how many spinark do you think live down here?” She asks the flareon breathlessly, screwing up her nose a little when the Pokémon looks up at her almost in amusement.

“Cram it, I’m not scared of them or anything, they’re just super gross. Too many legs – and they run at you out of nowhere,” she huffs, almost feeling a little embarrassed when Cayenne steps in front of her to keep walking diligently, “who even invented those things?”

When the two of them finally come to a brick wall she feels herself let out a sigh, slowly reaching out to put a hand against it in the darkness so she can feel around for any sign of a fuse box.

The moment her fingers brush the brick she pulls away sharply.

It’s warm.

Candela stares, holding the hand close to her chest in bewilderment, eyes darting to Cayenne who is watching her in confusion. Slowly she reaches out again, palm hovering an inch or so away from the brick for several moments. It looks normal- it’s just her mind playing tricks on her.

She presses her hand forward, the moment it comes into contact with the wall she feels it squelch wetly, something warm and pulsating under it like skin. This time she stumbles backwards with a breathy gasp, tripping on an old suitcase and falling on her behind sharply. Cayenne bristles a little, unsure what’s happening but reacting to her trainer’s distress.

Candela’s eyes are wide as she holds her hand out at arm’s length as if whatever she’d just touched was poison. “What the actual FUCK,” she whispers, glancing around the little bubble of Cayenne’s light as if looking for some sort of answer to all the questions buzzing through her horrified mind.

“….Marco?”

When a few seconds pass and she hears nothing back, her stomach turns cold.

--

Blanche watches the way the artificial phone light illuminates the thin winding paths between stacks of furniture and odd mazes of shelving, unnerved by the way it occasionally catches a grimy broken mirror or an odd jar of unidentifiable preserves on a shelf. They try to ignore the way their heart pounds a little faster with the sounds of their footsteps clacking against the cold cement floor, echoing throughout the dusty chamber.

They’re not nervous, they tell themself resolutely, almost embarrassed that they even need to say it. They’re twenty five, a fully grown adult, not a child – this is merely a dark room, with nothing existing within it except inanimate objects and mould. To be afraid would be illogical, and they are not an illogical person.

A quiet rustling behind them makes them tense up, swinging around sharply to shine the phones flashlight across the path. It remains void of life, no signs of movement – they’re imagining things. Their mind playing tricks on them, unsettled by the eerie surroundings. There’s nothing of danger down here… except potential unstable structures…and unspecified fungal spores….and there could always be rabid Pokémon, or even people hiding in the darkness. The thoughts are more unsettling than comforting and they unconsciously shudder a little before slowly turning back around to continue on the path, squeezing through a tight gap between two wall-to-ceiling shelving units.

Their phone light flickers, dims, and suddenly winks out.

Heart lurching as they’re suddenly plunged into a black abyss of darkness, Blanche hits the side of their phone with their palm, frantically tapping the screen. “No, no, come on come on- you useless piece of….” They curse, biting their lower lip as they press every button to no avail, unable to even see the dark screen in their hand a foot away from their face. It wasn’t even low on batteries!

The sense of uneasiness turns to a quiet panic as they lower their hand, fumbling for their pokeballs to release a companion- only to realise they left them in their regular clothes and this ridiculous nightgown doesn’t even have pockets. They close their eyes, not that it makes a difference, trying to take a steadying breath.

They shouldn’t move, the paths through the storage are winding and unsteady, they’ve had to step over and weave under boxes and furniture multiple times, trying to continue blindly would only result in injury.

“My phone has died, I am stuck,” they call out hesitantly, refusing to betray their nerves in their voice and keeping a steady tone despite their hands quivering slightly around the phone.

No response comes and they frown a little. “…Spark?” they call out, “Candela?”

Nothing.

“This isn’t funny, Spark!”

They open their eyes again as if hoping something would change, that their vision would adjust or somehow a light would flicker on above them, but all their met with is a thick darkness clouding their senses. It’s suffocating and claustrophobic, and makes the sweat on their neck turn cold.

Without meaning to they take a small step back, spine knocking against a shelf, they subconsciously stumble forwards a little, hands reaching out and hitting what feels like a wall, something falls over and knocks into their side. Their breath comes in shallow beats and instinctively they lower themself to crouch on the ground, making themself as small as possible. The darkness is so quiet that they can hear their own heartbeat in their ears. It feels as if the walls around them are closing in, there’s no room to move without hitting something, soon the ceiling will crush them, the air will be sucked out of their lungs.

Something topples from a shelf above, falling onto their head and coating them in something dusty, they instinctively move their hands up to frantically try to brush it off but only one arm moves, the other feeling suddenly trapped as if held in place by powerful hands.

They lash out to try to grab the invalid arm, only succeeding in knocking more things around them, something heavy falling down close to their leg.

“Help-let me out-”  they mutter, the words barely audible above shuddered breaths. Heart beating all too fast they hold their hand over their head to make themself small.

It’s the panic making their mind generate terrifying things in the darkness, they know it is.

But for a moment they’re sure they can see two eyes in the darkness with an eerie yellow glow watching them, accompanied by a slowly growing toothy grin.

--

A small cough wracks Sparks lungs as he trails his hand along a cold brick wall, fingers searching for metal as he carefully tries to weave around and step over things in his path. The dust in here is driving him crazy, he hasn’t needed an inhaler since he was like five but if they have to stay in this house much longer he’s definitely going to have some issues.

“Pika” Squeaks says from inside the bust of his nightgown, the pokémon’s chubby face sticking out of his collar, cheeks giving off a soft glow in the dark.

“Yeah I’m fine bud, dust is just irritating my lungs, this place really needs a spring clean, huh?” He teases gently, coughing once more into his hand before ruffling the pikachu’s soft fur. “Think you can get any more light?”

“Pii,” Squeaks replies, screwing up his chubby little face as his cheeks glow a little brighter. Spark kisses the top of his head with a grin.

A soft sound drifts by his ears, reminiscent of a distant sounding ‘marco’, and he turns his head in the general direction he remembers Candela heading in curiously. It was so quiet, almost faded like a surreal echo in a dream, he almost certainly imagined it, Squeaks doesn’t even react. Still, something in Sparks gut sits uneasily and he pauses for a second, hand still on the wall.

“Marco?” He calls out, waiting patiently for a reply. Then again, a little louder “Marco??”

Nothing comes and he frowns, glancing down at Squeaks who mimics the anxious look. It’s probably Candela messing with him.

“…She’s probably just being a jerk, c’mon, quicker we find that switch, quicker we can get our butts out of this creepy place,” he says probably as much to himself as to the little pikachu, once again starting to move forwards.

His hand continues to follow the wall – until it suddenly meets cold air in its absence, nearly making him stumble. Spark’s mind tries to process what just happened, squinting in the darkness at where the wall just….ends. It makes no sense, they’re in a room, the wall can’t just end, it has to join up to…something.

Squeaks makes a small confused sound, sniffing the air and wriggling out of his nightgown to hop down to the ground curiously, sniffing around at his feet.

“Is it like a divide? Maybe the basement is bigger than we thought,” he mutters quietly, reaching out forwards to continue without the wall, Squeaks only managing to light the few feet around them. “That would suck.”

“Pika pii” The small Pokémon agrees.

The two of them fumble forward, the path seemingly becoming a little wider. After a few moments his eye starts to catch Squeaks light reflecting from what looks like broken shards of glass, and he gestures to the pikachu to watch his little feet. 

The reflections of them both in the glass are…eerie. Misshapen, obscured – in the darkness it looks oddly nightmarish. The more he watches, the more the distorted reflections seem to move and shift in a way he finds nauseating.

Are they…even walking straight anymore? Spark pauses, suddenly feeling a little light headed. Which way he came from suddenly feels like a mystery, everything looks the same wherever he turns. How is a basement even this big?

Out of the corner of his eye he sees something move in the darkness, just out of sight, almost like the fold of clothes on a moving body catching the feint light.

“Candy, c’mon this isn’t funny,” he laughs, eyes darting around the darkness. The feeling of Squeaks little paws holding nervously onto his leg is oddly reassuring at least. “Can we quit the jokes now, I’m not feeling so hot…”

He can’t see a person, but the feeling of something moving around sits heavy in his gut, as if something or someone is circling him like prey. Squeaks must sense it too, the little pikachu’s cheeks start to flicker with anxious sparks and he growls threateningly.

“Show yourself!” Spark insists a little more firmly, spurred on by his partners nerves.

Still, nothing happens. His eyes keep being drawn back to the shards of mirror-like glass littering the floor around them, some as long as his arm and others small as pennies. His face seems eerily reflected in every one. It looks like it’s smiling back at him.

He isn’t smiling.

Spark’s hands fidget nervously at his sides and he takes a slow breath, “…Squeaks, use thunderbolt.”

The Pikachu eagerly zaps a powerful jolt of electricity into the darkness, lighting up the space for a second and hitting a box. He swears he sees something move in that split second and it turns his heart ice cold.

“Again”

“Pika” Squeaks shoots another. The light flickers for a second, illuminating figures – they’re everywhere.

“Again, again, again!” He demands, voice raspy with panic as the pikachu’s back presses against his shin with a shiver. It continues to fire off electric volts.

And he continues to see them. Dozens of them. Figures. Figures that look just like him, standing behind shelves and between furniture. Watching. Smiling.

“AGAIN. AGAIN. AIM AT THEM,” he rasps out, voice quaking as he takes a stumbling step back.

The thunderbolts blast off wildly in un-aimed directions, by almost a miracle one hits one of the figures and it moves, barely reacting to the shot but stepping closer, something about its face so horrifically unnerving – as if it’s smile is a little too wide, it’s eyes a little too sunken to look human.

Breath getting caught in his throat, he turns and runs. Stumbling on boxes and crashing into corners of furniture, not caring as he smacks into things and knocks over shelves and hears things smash. The only reassurance he has is the sound of Squeaks frantic panting as the little pokémon runs besides him in terror.

His foot hits something unmoving and he nearly screams as he’s sent toppling over, hand grabbing something warm on its way to the ground.

Something which yelps back – thankfully, a yelp he recognises.

“BLANCHE-“

A breathy gasp and a cold hand finds the fabric of his gown and grabs it so tight their nails pinch his skin.

“Spark?”

“It’s me, is it you?” He breathes out an almost manic little laugh of relief, blindly patting his hand around to feel for them until Squeaks scrambles into his lap and illuminates the space.

They’re both on the floor, Blanche’s eyes are blown wide and they’re white as a sheet but it’s definitely them.

“….My light went out, I-“ they fumble quickly, squinting a little at the light after being in pitch darkness for a while, eyes struggling to adjust to being able to see again. “No one would answer my calls for assistance…”

As his heartrate slows a little, Spark pauses before he can spit out his panicked experience.

He…surely he didn’t just see half a dozen creepy doppelgangers in the dark. That wouldn’t make sense. A wave of shame comes over him at the panic; he was just freaking out and imagining things. Squeaks was just reacting to his fear, that’s why his buddy couldn’t hit the targets – it was only him seeing things. This spookfest got the better of him.

“Sorry I…I never heard anyone call out-“ he laughs awkwardly, realising he’s partially landed on top of the Mystic leader and sheepishly climbing off of them, offering them a hand as he stands up. When they take it he notices that they’re trembling. “Although I tried to call out Marco and no one responded either, I thought Candela was messing with me but…I dunno, maybe the sound travels weird in here or something?” He reasons weakly. “Are you okay?”

“F-ine, completely fine,” they answer a little too quickly, swaying a little as they stand and pulling their hand away from his quickly in embarrassment, fighting to regain their composure for a brief moment. “Are you okay? I heard you scream before you…landed on me?”

“Heh, I uh- just got caught off guard….that’s all. Tripped and…cried out in surprise,” he lies, biting his inner lip as he fights the urge to glance anxiously behind him, quickly changing the subject, “I had no luck finding the breaker box on my end.”

“I never even reached the back wall. This is a large basement, it seems,” Blanche says slowly, their shoulder brushing him by how close their standing.

He reaches out to take their elbow, and they don’t push him away. The two just catching their breaths quietly  together for a few moments.

They both jolt sharply and knock heads when a red glow suddenly rounds the corner before them – then both breathe a sigh of quiet relief in unison is Cayenne scampers towards them, Candela in her wake.

“You two jerks are messing with me! Why didn’t you reply when I called?” The woman snaps as she storms over, throwing her hands in the air almost threateningly.

“We didn’t hear you call out- we both called out and you didn’t hear us either!” Spark argues, shuffling a little behind Blanche as the woman comes at them like an angry rhyhorn, fully prepared to use his friend as a human shield.

Candela looks fully about to go off on him when she suddenly seems to take in the ashen pallor and tense expressions of her two companions, rage fizzling into something akin to concern. “Shit you guys look like you’ve seen a ghost…”

“I am assuming you did not find the breaker box either?” Blanche asks, changing the subject immediately.

“That’s because it’s by the door” – The voice doesn’t come from any of them, and it’s sudden proximity scares the ever-loving shit out of all three leaders as they yelp. Candela instinctively lashing out as they all swing around and catching the professor right in the gut, winding him so hard he doubles over.

“…Oww.”

“Oh my god, Professor-“ She gasps, flailing with her hands for a moment before using them to steady him, hearing Blanche and Spark struggling to catch their breath behind her. “-Sorry”

“It’s my fault, I shouldn’t have snuck up on you…” he wheezes out a weak chuckle, forcing himself to stand up partially straight and putting a hand over his wounded gut. “You have a good punch on you.”

“Wh-at? We- you were waiting upstairs-“ Blanche fumbles out, obviously struggling to process what happened but inching forward to check the man is okay.

“You three were gone for half an hour and I began to worry, I came down to check on you and found the breaker next to the door. The lights are back up again upstairs now. None of you had resurfaced though and I heard yelling. Is everyone okay?” The man asks gently, glancing between the three of them in curious concern, clearly noticing their ruffled demeanours.

“We…must have missed it. I never saw it by the door….” Candela grunts, peering past the prof where she can now see the feint glow from upstairs the way they came in.  Sure enough, there is a metal box right at the bottom of the stairs next to the door – she feels a little silly. “….We’re fine, must have….just gotten a little lost.”

“Yeah- we just- it was dark and stuff-  tripped up and got all uh- mixed up,” Spark laughs sheepishly, “We’re good.”

“The look on all your faces I was worried you’d seen a real ghost down here or something,” Willow laughs, gesturing gently with his chin before leading them all back towards the door. “It’s getting late, we should probably retire for some rest. Clear our heads.”

“…There are no such thing as ghosts beyond ghost-type pokémon,” Blanche asserts quietly, sounding confident despite glancing over their shoulder every few moments until they all reach the top of the stairs.

--

The nice thing about a house this big is the sheer volume of rooms available – even if they are a little musty and outdated. In a hotel they’d likely all have been sharing, two to a bed, but here there’s plenty enough space for everyone to take their own room.

Candela sits on top of the off-white covers of the double bed in her room, listening to the sounds of wind and rain raging outside as she watches the chandelier on the ceiling sway slightly, casting jagged shadows of the furniture dancing across the plainly painted, mildew-y walls.

She wonders if she were to touch them, if she’d feel a heartbeat.

The thought sends a shiver up her spine.

It was her mind playing tricks on her in the dark, it must have been. But it had just felt so…real.

Something about the atmosphere of that basement had felt so jarringly wrong that it still sat in her belly like a rock. Thunder groans outside and she closes her eyes to let out a long, slow breath.  She should really get some sleep, but the strange itch of danger still tickles her bones and makes her restless.

Candela is not a child, she can sleep one night in a creepy house, she’s not going to lose rest the night before the most important convention of the year because of some cheap spooks. Forcing herself to stand she stretches a little before pulling back the covers-

She shrieks when she’s met with a spinark the size of her flareon just sat there – so close to where she had just been sitting. The sound makes it skitter frantically, leaping off the bed and crawling across the floor speedily.

Quick footsteps slap the wooden floors of the hallway for a moment before her door slams open, almost making her jump again, Spark bursting in with wide eyes and a walking stick in his hand held up like a bat. “What?!”

“Geez, fuck, Spark don’t do that!” She hisses, feeling her ears turn a little red as she waves him off dismissively and catches her breath.

“You’re the one who screamed!” He hisses back, slowly lowering the stick.

“I didn’t scream! It was a…a yelp at best!” She huffs, screwing her face up a little petulantly, “…dumb spinark caught me off guard okay. Hate the things, especially those massive ones.”

The man props his dusty makeshift weapon on the floor and leans on it lazily, eyes flicking to the large spinark which is now hallway up a wall, crawling eerily. He cracks Candela a tired little smirk, “Don’t tell me that you, Candela, leader of team Valor, are afraid of spiders?”

“I’m not afraid of them, dumbass – it just jumped out at me,” she grunts, storming over and smacking his arm to try to shift the smug look on his face, “I just find them…gross. Way too many hairy little weird legs, and why do they always sprint at you full speed? Ugh-“

“…You want me to catch it for you and put it outside?” He asks teasingly, chuckling when she glares at him bitterly but doesn’t turn down the idea. “This place has all of us on edge I think.”

She watches a little sulkily as the man grabs a dirty old vase from on top of her dresser and sizes it up before heading towards the creepy little Pokémon, hesitating for a moment to aim before clunking it down on top of it, catching the critter inside and tilting it uptight so it can’t skitter free.

“I tried to hide a spinark in Blanche’s desk last year on April fools as a prank, but they just ended up identifying it as like – some rare variant species based on its colourations and then kept it as a pet so they could breed it for genetic mutation colourants or something weird. I should’a done it to you instead, at least I know for next time,” Spark laughs as he peers into the top of the vase at the creature inside, smiling at it gently to try to put it at ease, “Don’t worry little bud, you’re safe with me.”

“You ever put one of those in my desk and I’ll end you, Instinct. Mark my words, that is not something you want to do,” she threatens coldly, stiffening a little at the thought. “…How did we never notice the goth thing? They have such weirdo goth vibes sometimes. Who keeps a spinark as a pet?”

“You’re such a weenie, they’re just little guys,” Spark snorts. “I’ve had one on my team before, they’re cute.”

She’s about to retort when the door suddenly cracks against its hinges as if someone slams it, making them both jump so hard that Spark drops the vase and it shatters – the poor terrified spinark darting under the bed for refuge.

“The fuck was that?” He wheezes breathlessly, letting out a nervous little laugh when Candelas mouth moves wordlessly with a lack of answers as they both stare at the door – now unmoving.

“…Maybe the wind?” She offers, neither of them quite believing it.

“…I don’t know if I can get that guy back out from under your bed…maybe you should just come stay in my room instead?” Spark mutters, a teasing lilt to his voice out shadowed by his obvious nerves. This is more for him than her.

“…Sure, you better not snore though or I’m smothering you with a pillow again,” she says slowly, struggling to tear her eyes away from the door.

The two of them edge towards the door slowly, stepping through one by one as if it could slam on them at any moment, then Candela follows Spark a few doors down to his chosen room.

He doesn’t open the door, just stands in front of it turning progressively more pale by the second.

“…Is….that a handprint?”

She follows his gaze down below the doorhandle, where on the dark polished wood, an eerie hand-shaped stain is smeared on the door as if someone was dragged by unwillingly. She can’t tell what it is – but in the dim light it sure does resemble…blood.

“It’s….that’s…probably just your handprint, idiot,” she laughs quietly, trailing off when he doesn’t laugh too, just tucking his hands nervously under his armpits to conserve heat and glancing around anxiously. “You probably got all dirty down in that gross basement and left a mark when shutting the door.”

“Heh….yeah, you’re right,” he chuckles back, still making no move to open the door.

After a moments silence, Candela bites her inner lip, the cold air blowing through the hallway making the tiny hairs on her body stand on end. “…Maybe we should check the prof is doing alright? He was pretty spooked earlier.”

“Yeah,” Spark agrees a little too quickly, turning away from the door to glance down the other end of the hall. “Yeah he was pretty freaked out by that story, poor guy is probably struggling to sleep. Maybe we can keep him company for a bit or something.”

“You know what the guy is like with spooky stuff,” Candela affirms, falling into quick pace next to the man as they head towards the professors room. “Better make sure he rests well, big day tomorrow.”

Spark is the one to knock on the professors door, and the both of them seem to release tension in their shoulders as they hear the sounds of feet hitting the floor as the resident within stands out of bed, bones cracking as he stretches. Moments later the half asleep man opens the door, looking almost comically ruffled but smiling kindly as he looks between them.

“Everything alright?”

“We just thought you might be still a little shaken from earlier,” Candela blurts out, tilting her chin up a little as she meets eyes with the older man, “We came to see if you wanted some company… you know, to make sure you’re not like… too creeped out to sleep.”

Willow raises a brow at her and then at Spark, “…Well I feel fairly comfortable actually. In fact, Blanche already kindly offered their company too,” he chuckles gently, pushing open the door a little to let the two in. Candela meets eyes with Blanche who has made a little bed for themself on the floor from blankets, and they pretend not to notice her and turn to the book in their hands, ears turning pink. They’re definitely not here because the professor is scared, she thinks smugly. “The more the merrier though I suppose. Though we are a little limited for space.”

“I call the bed,” Spark says immediately, almost throwing himself onto the unruffled side of the double bed the professor wasn’t sleeping on, faceplanting into the pillow dramatically.

Candela watches him, shaking her head fondly before glancing over the Professor’s expression. He knows she’s spooked and she hates it. She could walk away now, head to any other room in this place and prove herself as the only brave one in the group.

Floorboards creak ominously from somewhere in the house and her pride fizzles out, she quickly shuffles past the older man, keeping her head down stubbornly as she grabs a bundle of spare bedsheets from the dresser and tosses them on the ground messily next to Blanche’s neatly made little makeshift bed.

Willow chuckles tiredly, closing the door and heading back to the bed to sit beside Spark. “Perhaps we should keep the lights on tonight?”

“Not necessary,” Candela huffs as she straightens out a thick quilt like a bedroll and rolls up another to use as a pillow, her jostling around clearly irritating Blanche as they try to return to their book. “We’re not little kids, prof.”

“I know you’re not,” he reassures carefully, tucking himself back in next to the sprawling form of Spark taking up ¾ of the bed. “Alright then, feel free to wake me if you need anything,” he says as he reaches for the light switch at his nightstand, turning off the single lamp lighting the room, plunging the four into darkness.

Moonlight seeps through the window, distorted rays making almost pretty patterns across the sheets and floor where it refracts through the raindrops. Candela lays down, and stares at the ceiling, listening to the sounds of Blanche rustling to tuck their book under their pillow, and Spark climbing reluctantly under the blankets.

Then quiet. Soft breathing, heavy rain, rumbling thunder, eerie creaking from somewhere above, odd sounds like footsteps from somewhere below. She stares at the ceiling, in the dark the filthy old tiles seem to twist and morph into faces, with piercing eyes and screaming lips.

Fleshy, pulsing walls. Like the skins of a hundred victims stitched together.

She nearly jolts upright when Spark breaks the silence.

“…Hey so like….that story earlier. It wasn’t really true, right?” He asks earnestly.

She hears Blanche shift uncomfortably onto their side and pause. “…I mean…my recollection of the retelling is true. However, the original story is unlikely to be. The poor man was no longer in his senses,” they say slowly, “As a child it definitely shook me for a long time, but as an adult it is easy to look back and see his story for what it was. The sadly warped ramblings of a traumatised, sick man.”

“It was just a story, Sparky. People don’t just cross into creepy pocket dimensions with gross skin tunnels and weird spider people, dude was probably tripping balls at the time and got kidnapped or something, twisted the whole thing in his head to be some creepfest,” Candela says gently.

“Yeah…yeah I figured, heh,” Spark mutters humourlessly.

“It’s an interesting concept though. After all, paranormal events do happen to people from time to time, those who go missing and claim to have been abducted by aliens or have visited hell. It does make you wonder as a scientist whether it’s possible. Whether strange things really do occur,” Blanche says thoughtfully, “Perhaps our world is one of many, or the frequency we exist in is parallel to countless others on slightly different wavelengths, and when people see ghosts or hear voices they’re tapping into that, or something is trying to come through from somewhere else. Perhaps when people vanish without a trace, it is simply like….a tear, a hole they’ve stumbled through, and entered another frequency entirely.”

“Sounds like something out of a bad Sci-Fi to me,” Candela grunts, trying to cover the nervous undertones in her voice, “Fascinating concept I’m sure but if you’ve got nothing to back it up then it’s just dumb.”

“Scientists are allowed to theorise the unknown, it’s not like I’m writing a report about it or anything, it’s just interesting to come up with creative solutions to the worlds mysteries sometimes,” Blanche huffs back.

“When I turned out the lights, that was my polite way of saying I am going to sleep now,” Willow mutters exhaustedly. “Perhaps we can wrap up the conversation?”

“Sorry,” Blanche and Candela mutter together.

Silence follows for a while afterwards.

Until; “…So like, do any of you believe in ghosts?” Spark mutters thoughtfully. “Like ghost-ghosts, people ghosts, not ghost-types.”

The professor sighs heavily and rolls over, pulling a pillow over his head.

“Not in the traditional sense,” Blanche murmurs in the dark, “however, I won’t deny anything without evidence. The concept of the conscious of the dead continuing on, or resonating memories replaying themselves as if stained into our timeline is an incredibly interesting concept, if an unlikely one.”

“Ghosts aren’t real,” Candela grunts, turning over to press her face into the makeshift pillow so she’ll stop making shapes of the ceiling tiles. “Anyone who claims they’ve seen ghosts has just had a ghost pokémon messing with their heads.”

“Yeah that checks, my uncle had a gengar in his vent system for a few months once. Thought he was seeing his dead wife for ages but turns out it was just the gengar messing with him,” Spark mumbles, “he did a lot of therapy after that.”

“Some people rumour that ghost type pokemon are derived from the spirits of humans. That gastly are malicious spirits that couldn’t move on, that Phantump are children who died in the forests still looking for their lost parents, and Yamask being lost souls carrying around their past human face in hopes of being reunited with their body again,” Blanche says flatly, “There’s no proof in it, but no proof against it either. Ghost-types are as much a mystery to us as legendary pokémon. That is to say, on a biological level they do not make sense.”

“Go to sleep,” Willow says, voice muffled in his pillow.

Spark murmurs an apologetic sound.

The silence this time goes on for so long that Candela thinks they’ve all gone to sleep. Blanche’s breathing evens out next to her, and the professor eventually starts to snore gently. She lies awake, though feels almost soothed by the sounds.

The door slams open loudly, cracking against the wall with a bang that makes them all jump up. Spark lets out a pitchy yelp and Candela feels Blanche reach over to instinctively grab her wrist.

There’s nothing in the doorway. The door swings a little before stopping slightly ajar.

Professor Willow sits up wearily in bed and clicks on the light, rubbing his palm against his eye. “It’s just a breeze, the windows are falling apart in this decrepit place and the winds outside are harsh.”

“…I knew that,” Spark says voice cracking slightly, then letting out a sheepish little laugh.

The man sighs through his nose, shaking his head exasperatedly as he pushes himself up from the bed once again, grabbing a wooden chair from the corner and clicking the door closed, propping the chair in front of it this time. He turns back to the three of them with a reassuring smile. “All sorted”.

“It was just loud- shocked me awake,” Candela grunts at him, gently shaking her wrist to remind Blanche that they’re clinging to her. When the other leader seems to snap out of their minor daze and notice they quickly let go, turning a little pink.

Willow scratches the sharp bristles of his four o’clock shadow as he slowly makes his way back to the bed, pausing before he sits down and letting out another tired sigh. “…The poor windows make it very cold in here. There’s plenty of room in this bed if you don’t mind squashing together a bit.”

He almost expects at least a little push back, however both Blanche and Candela nearly scramble off of the floor, climbing under the blankets next to Spark. He shakes his head fondly as he climbs in next to them once they’re all settled.

“Wouldn’t want any of you to freeze,” Candela mutters, “’Sides, the floor was a pain for my back. Don’t need a crick in my neck tomorrow.”

“Get some sleep,” the man says softly as he reaches up once again to click off the lights, feeling someone tense a little as his finger hovers over the switch and instead opting to just leave it. He lays back and closes his eyes.

The bed is warmer with four, at least.

--

Candela doesn’t remember sleep coming for her, however one minute she’s hearing rain and the next her eyes are groggily opening and she hears birds chirping instead.

As she sits up sluggishly, she remembers the other occupants of the bed. Spark is still sprawled next to her, drooling a tiny bit into the crook of his arm, and he grunts whinily when she shifts the blankets. Blanche and the professor however seem to already be awake, the Mystic leader still sat beside her neatly, quietly neatening up their hair the best they can with only their hands, while the professor has left the warmth of the bed and is staring out the window with his hands on his hips.

“Sounds like the weather has cleared up…” She mutters, voice still groggy from sleep as her eyes drift around the room.

It looks almost totally different in the daylight. Apart from the peeling wallpaper and mildew moulding curtains, it’s not that much different to an outdated cheap hotel really. She almost feels silly to think she’d found it creepy in a different light.

“Clear skies and clear sailing, hopefully,” Willow chuckles, picking up his lab coat from where he’d hung it by the old dresser appraisingly, “Clothes seem to have dried off too. Thank goodness for that, I wasn’t looking forward to walking for miles in a night gown.”

“I’d nearly forgotten about the walk,” Candela groans, flopping back into her warm pillow. “Stupid van.”

“I can send my frosmoth to fly above the trees and navigate us to the nearest town, there we should be able to pick up some fuel and go back for the mobile lab,” Blanche says slowly, giving up on their futile task and instead defeatedly plaiting their hair into a braid. “Honestly I am just glad for the chance to leave this house, the mouldering smell is giving me a headache.”

--

An hour or so later, the four have packed up and changed back into their – mostly dry – usual attire. Heading down the crumbling stone front steps to follow the muddy path back towards the van, Candela can’t help but glance back over her shoulder at the grand manor house.

For a moment she swears a figure stands in the window, yellow eyes watching her.

She blinks and it’s gone. A trick of the mind.

The professor stops a few yards short of the mobile lab, lips curled into a frown, and one by one the three leaders pause behind him as they each see what he is seeing.

A gas canister sits neatly on the hood of the vehicle, full to the brim.

“…Perhaps…a helpful Pokémon heard our plight?” The professor says slowly. Though no one quite believes it, even him.

They refuel and head off once again, leaving behind the gothic house on the cliff and the eerie aura within it. It would become a funny story someday, a tale to tell at parties or to share inside jokes about.

But as they drive away, Candela fights the urge to look behind her. Unable to shake the feeling that something silent was following. Watching them.

Warning against their return.

[elinaline]

As the chive outside has just bloomed it is time for another plupdate

The linen is doing great, there's some kind of omegalinen compound in the back there it's fine

One spot left in the vertical planter, for my remaining tomatoes inside, the others have acclimated to real life for the last two weeks

Guimauve growing, hopefully I'll be able to collect some flowers and try homemade marshmallow again

Spinch and tamed wild onion growing

The tuft at the top of these carnations means they're about to bloom, which I'm excited about they're the most melliferous flowers on my balcony with the mint

but the mint isn't doing so good, Humid weather means quite a lot of parasites as well and I haven't had the time nor the energy to do the usual soapy sprays (as long as the roots are ok it'll be fine, mint is like an unkillable enemy). Oh look there's a visitor on my willow tree !

[ellowynthenotking]

Apr 27

Dear dad,

We’re just going as fast as we can. We’ve barely stopped in days, and we’re running out of food faster than we thought we would. 

We needed to resupply at that stupid festival, and we didn’t get the chance to do so. I don’t know what we’re going to do about it. Grace has been walking alongside the cart looking for more edible plants, and we’ve been supplementing our rations with them. The amount that she’s finding isn’t enough, though. We can add it to things, but it takes a while to cook and prepare, and even if it’s helping, it’s making us slow down so we don’t lose her. 

I’m seriously worried that we’re going to accidentally leave her behind. Even though she mostly walks by the cart, she constantly ducks off into the woods on either side of the path to grab more of the stuff, and we lose sight of her so fast. We didn’t stop, but I jumped out of the cart a couple of times to keep an eye on her and the cart so we didn’t end up leaving her behind. 

I almost want to tell her to stop. It’s even more stressful trying to make sure we don’t leave her behind on accident. The amount of food she’s getting isn’t enough for her actions to be worth it. 

We’re pushing the horses really hard, too. I think constantly having people jump off and climb onto the cart while they’re in mid-motion isn’t the best. The horses are okay, though. I mean, I think they’re okay. They at least have enough to eat. There seems to be stuff they like to eat whenever we actually stop. I wish I could say the same. 

We haven’t run across any towns yet, but hopefully, we will soon; we need to stop somewhere and figure out where we are. I mean, we know where we are. Still, Willow's maps are functionally useless because we’re not in the other kingdom anymore. We don’t know where anything is for this kingdom. We haven’t even run across any people so far. We haven’t seen anyone since we left the little town on the kingdom's edge. Now, I’m pretty sure we haven’t accidentally stepped into a horror movie because some wizened person hasn’t been warned about our follies before heading out this way. But that doesn’t make it any less creepy.

The animals we’ve seen haven’t looked right either. Initially, I was saying we could probably do some hunting to supplement our food, but the animals don’t look right. We saw a deer with some super messed-up antlers, and I think we all kind of agreed that it would probably be for the best if we didn’t hunt it. There were some naked squirrels, not a single hair on them, bright pink, but still running around just fine. 

I haven't seen any birds, though I’ve heard some bird songs. But if they’re not in the trees or up in the air, they must be on the ground, right? But I haven’t seen any. 

This means we can’t hunt them. It’s been really weird. The forest still sounds like there are stuff and animals in it, but we just haven’t seen any of them, at least none that would be good eating.

I’m a little worried, if I’m being honest. We can’t really add any of it to the food, and we aren’t getting enough plants for the food. So we’re slowly running out of food, in the middle of nowhere, and being hunted by humans. And, possibly, by the weird deer? I could swear it’s the same deer I’ve seen a couple of times. Like I said, I would try hunting them, but it just hasn’t happened. Cause it all looks weird. 

Zunair says all the animals we’ve been seeing look like Chernoble (?) mutants, and he doesn’t think we should eat them on the off chance there is some kind of radiation or something that they’re all inflicted with. Willow said if that was what was going on, then we needed to leave the area as soon as possible, because if they were this affected, then it’s probably still leaching from somewhere, and we need to be careful.

Either way, there’s no signage about anything, be it dangers or towns anywhere. We have seen a few places that were obviously camps that looked untouched by whoever was there last. We’re at one now; it’s even got a little fire pit. 

The fire pit still has bones, which is a little disconcerting, but it’s proof that SOMEONE’S been here at least. There are other people around here somewhere, and we’ll hopefully run into them eventually. 

I’ll write to you soon. Hopefully, we’ll find a place to sleep that lets me write a little more to you, but I don’t know how long it’ll be until we get there. We’ll see, I guess.

Love, Jack

Read the rest of the series here: 

Or read more by this author here: 

[greenmansgrove]

On the Vernal Equinox earlier this week I visited a few different parks. Didn’t spend much time at any of ‘em bevause I forgot my snow shoes/ice cleats, but it was nice to scout a few different places for when the weather warms up.

First I visited Lone Lake Park and Shady Oak Lake Cemetery. The trails were too icy to get far and snow still too deep to wade among the gravestones, but I did spy a bald eagle being harassed by some corvids from the road.

Next I drove out to Dean’s Lake in Shakopee, which is depressingly under development, but the lake seems to be their effort at some kind of conservation. I wanted to visit here because supposedly there are elderberry bushes I’d like to forage come fall, as Falling Fruit tells me. I’m still new to plant identification, and I’m definitely unskilled at it during the winter, but I think I found the bushes. The only clue was the bark and the red stems where berries had been picked off (pictured below). Hopefully in June they’ll be in bloom and I’ll be able to confirm my ID. I also learned that the local quaking aspen are already in bloom. Their flowers aren’t petalled and look more like pussy willow. I suppose their being wind pollinated makes it just fine for them to bloom while it’s still cold. They put out their blossoms before leaves.

Lastly, as the sun was setting, I visited Newell park, where my oak tree friend resides. I didn’t get to visit at Imbolc or since because of the snow, work, and a recent illness, but I took some dried peanuts with me to leave as offering for the squirrels. I greeted my tree friend and felt a general air of familiarity and rejoicing. I’m looking forward to seeing them bloom as the weather warms up. Around my tree, the ground was already thawing, though I suppose that’s from the ice melting and falling to the ground around the trunk. Peanuts pictured on the right.

I’ve almost reached a year since I started my practice, and so I’m looking forward to being able to watch the changes in seasons with even greater awareness, thanks to the experience gained thus far. The local RDNA equinox ritual is on Saturday, and I’m looking forward to seeing folks to celebrate the arrival of the light half.

[sussex-nature-lover]

Saturday 18 February 2023

The Ups and Downs When Spring Stalls

My week’s been like these hyacinths. Good in parts and let down in others.

All my bulbs were bought and potted up at the same time, but look at the difference. One is so far behind it’s just tiny and no sign of any colour. I like hyacinths and I like all the individual little flowers combining to make a glorious flower head, but I tie the tall ones up at least twice a day as they’re so heavy they’re leaning again in no time. We were in the supermarket yesterday and I noticed their offerings had exactly the same problem, so it’s not just mine. 

The distinct fragrance perfumes a whole room

Actually I mention the perfume, but I’ve had to move the pots into more open areas, as it’s started to give me a headache, it’s so intense, like lilies. I shall put them outdoors directly into the soil after they’ve finished and next year pot up something less heady - in both senses of the word - for the house

Beautiful bark

I went to do my regular inspection in the woods and again, so very disappointing - a litter pick

What on earth is wrong with people that they think open ground is a suitable resting place for their trash. I could rant on but I’ve done it all before and I very much doubt anyone who cares to read this would think any differently

I’d love to put up a sign saying TAKE IT HOME, but fear it’ll only encourage rebellion from the kind of idiot who can’t work that out as a given

On a much brighter note, this year I’ve noticed just how many hazel trees we have both in the garden and the woods. The growth is vigorous but we’ve been having such grey weather that the catkins aren’t glowing as well as below. I hope the ancient legend’s true. We could do with a bit more inspiration and wisdom coming our way, but never-the-less we should see plenty of nuts. The tree above, which is on show through our side window is more of a green-lemon shade

Hazel (Corylus avellana) Hazel shrubs are monoecious, which means they have male and female flowers on the same plant.  The catkins, droop from branch twigs and can be seen from January to March. Catkins are the male flowers of the Hazel tree and, if you look very close, you should can see the tiny red filaments of the female flowers sticking out from a small bud.

The catkins in the woods are much more golden than in the garden, but the camera still isn’t capturing the glow. It’s slightly easier to tell from this pic, below, where I’m watching the birds, whilst I’m under observation too. You need to imagine the glow when the sun comes out

I’ll make a list. Since I sat to write this, I’ve seen robins, house sparrows, great spotted woodpeckers, starlings, nuthatch, long tailed tits, blue tits, great tits, marsh tits, blackbirds, Inspector Pritchard, Anton the pheasant and a pesky squirrel after the suet. For a very short while, judging on shape and posture, I hoped I’d spotted a song thrush, but when she emerged from the bushes, it was a female blackbird after all. That was pretty much a full house of our regulars though

The birds are going to be scouting new homes and because we need a big tidy up, they’re being a little bit displaced. The garden next door was suffering from some heavy growth that was hanging over our side of the fence too. It was blocking light out from our corner sitting room windows, but also over shadowing other plants, drying out the soil and causing a lot of mossy growth on paths. Now they’ve taken an awful lot of it down it’s really opened both gardens and later this week the willow is going to get its second or third ‘haircut’ in the time we’ve lived here. We’ve never forgotten the shock of the first one, the tree looked absolutely annihilated, but of course, it was incredible how it came back through the season

To be honest I’m planning on getting out with the shears and the hedge cutter and giving our big shrubs another hacking back so everything can hopefully strengthen and flourish nicely too. I’m still getting my head around how much heavy work we did all last summer and early autumn and what a toll the winter has taken on the garden. We’ve lost several shrubs and for the first time, pots have bitten the dust too. There’s an awful lot to do out there, but the birds still have a thriving and hospitable habitat 

‘Inspector’ inspecting

First out of the blocks for meeting the new season is his lordship. Just look how his feathers have grown and he’s displaying now several times a day

Sadly, Anton isn’t at all impressed, but their friendship is ongoing. This morning they were waiting together again like buddies, eager for Crow to go out and stock up the seed trays.

Anton did have three ladies with him earlier in the week, but we only saw them the one time. I’m in no doubt that he’s in poll position for the girlfriend derby. Oh well, at least Prichard has plenty of company here and we do talk to him and provide a healthy, varied diet - his life could be worse

Don’t forget to check out my other link on Tumblr CLICK THIS

[durusiudex]

Forrest of Death

Part one

The first thing I'm aware of is the soft ground under my back, covered in pineneedles. The sky above me is so bloted out by the greenery of the assorted kinds of trees that populate this forest that only a dim twilight makes it into the forest.

I sit up and scan my surroundings. The first conclusion I come to is that I owe Rachel $20, the second conclusion I come to is that if I don't move now, somethings going to make sure I never move again. I reach into my pocket and pull out a folded map. An ealier conversation floats in to my head.

"This map isn't exactly accurate. You stepping foot into that... place. Will be akin to humans stepping onto the surface of another planet." Dr. Drace had told me. "We've been in there before with drones and rovers but something about that place fucks with our communications. Once we put something in, we're blind to it. Which means we won't be able to help you either. Are you still up for this?"

"What, you mean go back to my cot?" I asked, almost rudly. "Thanks but I'll take my chances with this forest."

"You say that now, because you haven't seen the state in which our drones and rovers arrive back to us, if they ever do." The doctor explained. "This may very well be the most dangerous place on Eart- well, I guess we can't really call it earth anymore. Most dangerous place. Period."

"Alright doc, I get it." I said annoyed. "Big scary trees or whatever, I'll be careful."

Looking around I'm starting to wish I had taken the doc's advice more seriously. It's not that I was in immediate danger, but I saw no sign of water and I haven't seen a single wild animal, or even signs of one. There's no underbrush, the floor of the forest seems too dark to support plant life. They gave me plenty of MIRs and multiple bottles of water but that won't last very long.

I follow the crude map, my only hope will be a small research building that they had discovered a couple days ago. It's unclear wither a population in the forest made this structure or if humanity had traveled to the forest before. In any case the building seemed big enough and secluded enough that it should be safe... for a while.

One thing I notice is that the tress are weird, there's evert type of tree I could think of, you know pine, oak, willow, ect. Except they all grow to exactly the same height and trunk diameter, it feels artificial. As I walk I periodically make little towers out of stones that i could hopefully use as reference points if needed. I had been walking for hours before the first danger showed itself.

A deafening sound, like wood being splintered with great force, followed by an equally loud boom caused me to whip my head behind me, I didn't see anything. Another crash shook the ground and left me unbalanced. A third crash ripped through the air, I didn't stay long enough to find out what it was. I booked it as fast as my legs would carry me, but the sound followed. There was less time between crashes now and it finally clicked; what I was hearing was the foot steps of an insanely giant creature who's head probably pokes out of the canopy of the forest. I didn't know of it was chasing me or if I just happened to be in its path, either way its going to catch up to me, so I stop running.

"What are you in for?" My cell mate, Devin, asks me. "What is it? Murder? Serial killer? Grand heist?"

"I'm in here cause I was too good at my job." I said simply. "I was so good that I became a threat." I wasn't technically breaking my contract by telling him that but it was skirting very close.

"Yeah, what ever." Devon says, unconvinced. "This is a maximum security facility. You don't get put here unless you're truly dangerous."

"OK" I conceded. "Then why are you here?"

"I umm.." this takes him back. "Well the truth is, I'm the exception. I'm not dangerous, I just kept breaking out of prison. This is kinda thier final resort. Won't hold me for long though." He gives me a look that makes me think he absolutely believes what he says.

"Good luck with that." I say, even though his chances are practically zero. "I don't need to break out, I just have to wait until I'm useful again."

A giant hairy foot impacts the ground about 70 feet away from, the sound makes my eardrums ring and the wind that it makes when it moves almost knocks me on my ass, but I stand my ground. If I want this to work then I need to act fast. All the time I was running I was listening to the sounds if the giants foot steps, using it to determine a rough idea of its speed and size.

It's next step falls to my right about 10 feet. The tremors and the air gushing from its movements cause me to fall over, but I regain my footing quickly and I'm on my feet, running towards its foot. If I'm slow, this will be the end for me. I pull out one of many small rectangular packages, it'll take all of them to do what I have planed and it'll leave me down a resource but I don't feel I have much choice.

I make it to the creatures foot just as it begins dragging its other foot to take the next step. I clamber up the grotesque hairy foot of the giant, periodically leaving one of those small packages. 10 seconds later I'm done, I run to the edge of its foot and jump off. My my feet never touch the ground, faster than what should be expected the giant scopes me up with a giant meaty hand. It's hand crashes through branches and eventually the canopy to bring my to eye level with it. At first I struggle, trying to get out of its grasp but when that proves fruitless I stare into the eyes of the giant. It's face looks vaguely like a chimpanze. But it's eyes, there's intelligence like that of a humans. This is no wild beast and that just makes it all the worse for my own health.

For a while nothing happens, we just stare into each other's eyes. Finally my temper and impatients gets the better of me.

"Well you dumb monkey!" I yell. "You gonna kill me or just stare at me? Cause I gotta say, you're not my type so get on with it!" I struggle to move my arms. It's eyes widen in surprise and malice.

"Don't you worry tiny human." It laughed. "We'll get to that soon enough. But first, I must learn what I can from you." Its voice is slow, deep and impossibly loud. I don't get a chance to comment on the fact that he had spoken to me before I feel a sharp pain in the front of my head. Suddenly I'm being born again, my life starts playing from the beginning in my head like it's on fast forward. It catches up to the present and the pain dissapears.

"Interesting." Was all he said before he started bringing me towards his mouth. I needed to stall.

"Wait!" I yelled, causing him to hesitate. "At least tell me your name? What are you?"

The giant laughed. "Never have a met a snack so void of fear." The giant pondered awhile. "Very well, as the last request of a dieing mortal I will honor your wish. My name is Vontrol, and I am a God."

I'm taken for a bit and my stunned silence must have given me away because Vontrol laughs and continues.

"I am the first life here and when all else dies, I'll the last." He sounded almost sad. "I'm cursed to live an immortal life inside a mortal body. But I will never die. What about you, mortal? What is your name?"

"My name?" My fingers wrap around a small device in my pocket. "Well most people just call me Dave. But I actually have a nick name that I had earned from my colleges."

"What is this name?" The God asks, confused. My thumb finds a small button on the device.

"They call me invictus, it means unkillable." I press the small button and all at once the c4 I had covered his foot with exoded. The God howled in pain and his grip lossened enough that I could crawl out of his closed fist. While Vontrol was so distracted by his injured foot that he didn't notice me climbing up his shoulder and too his neck. It doesn't matter if he can't die, if he can't move he's as good as dead. I place my last c4 where his spine meets his brain stem.

"What have you done!" The God screams. "I'll kill you for that!" Vontrol desperately smacks his body in random places, on sure of where I was and hoping to get me by luck. I finally make it to the ground which is covered in what must be purple blood, it oozes put of the God's mangled foot.

"Dipshit!" I yell at the top of my lungs to get the giants attention.

The God turns to me, a look of fury in his eyes.

"You know, I once had a debate with someone about how you would kill God since killing was my profession." I say, holding the detonator. "Time to settle a bet."

The God roared at me but didn't even have chance to finish his angry outburst before I pushes the button and another explosion lit the woods with a bright flash. The God stopped, purple blood trickled out of his mouth and flowed from the wound in his neck. For a second all is silent, then the God begins to fall backwards, the sound of breaking branches filled the silence around me. I walk up to the head of the paralyzed God, his head is turned to face me, his eyes are clouded.

"Invictus." He says slowly, his voice full of anger. "I may not be able to kill you now. But my body will heal and when that happens nothing will stop me from killing you."

"Those are big words from a God beaten by a man Vontrol." I say and then begin walking away from the bloody scene. I open my map back up, and continue to safety.

[reveltica]

best friends!

pairing: childe x gn!reader

a/n: hopefully this would be the last part of this fic coz i just thought up of another concerning Scaramouche :3

WARNING!: a delicious platter of angst. hurt with no ounce of comfort at the last part. a bit of fluff (maybe). a bit of cussing too. and again my daily reminder to you guys for REFRAINING FROM HARASSING CHILDE MAINS IN GAME JUST BECAUSE OF A FANFIC. that would be all, thank you~

《 part ii

"You're listening to Radio Revel"

Adventures come in all shapes and sizes right? No matter how big or small, as long as you're with the right person, every adventure counts.

That's what Childe always thinks. Especially at this very moment when he insistently asked you to take him along on your trip to trek a mountain in search of wild ingredients for a restaurant in the city. These wild ingredients are hard to come by and the commissioner promised to pay you five times your average income.

Of course you had to take it, you know this mountain like the back of your hand. Not Childe though, everything's new to him. You had probably explored this area while he was busy in the Fatui.

"Are these enough [Name]?" he asked, his arms filled with the ingredient in question. Your eyes widen for a second before smirking.

"My dear Tsaritsa, those look more than enough! Now, put them in here?" you opened another bag for him to fill. You tugged at the string ends to close the bag and slung it to the basket you were carrying on your back.

Childe stretched out a helping hand towards you. "Uh, let me carry that. It looks kind of heavy, no?" You chuckled and flexed your toned arm. "I'll have you know that I'm pretty strong as well! Besides you already have your own share of the heavy load."

He slowly retracted his hand and scratched his nape. "Well, yes but I just want to be of help."

"You're helping me plenty. Now, come on! We promised Tonia to come home before dusk, we don't want her to scold us now do we?" you called out to him since you started walking ahead.

Childe huffed out and smiled. Tonia always does that and it is very endearing. He jogged and had caught up with you, walking down the track.

Along the track, Childe noticed that you were very confident on where to step and where to turn next. "You're quite an expert around here. Have you come here often?"

You giggled and nodded. "Yeah, I found a secret spot here where I always go to...meditate or to simply want some peace and quiet."

"I don't remember us trekking here before." he mumbled.

"Well, you were busy with the Fatui while I was busy with discovering new places. It kind of comes with the job as an adventurer." you shrugged and smiled at him.

Childe couldn't believe this. He couldn't believe that there were still a lot he didn't know about you. This was the perfect chance for him to make up lost time with you when he was busy being a jerk and being a Harbinger.

But you suddenly stopped and tugged on his sleeve. "It's right around here." you said and slowly turned to him with a huge smile.

"Want to take a rest first?"

"But, we're tasked to take these back to the restaurant—"

"Oh it'll be fine! We'll be back on track after a few minutes." You were already heading towards the frozen leaves of a willow tree while Childe follows.

"Now don't tell anyone about this. It's my special place and now, I am giving you the honor to be the first! Ever man to set foot in this place!" you declared proudly and Childe snickered at your childish play.

"Well, the pleasure's all mine m'lady/m'lord." he played along.

With that said, you disappeared behind the cold entrance, followed by Childe. You two entered a tunnel big enough to stand in and short enough to travel. You didn't think twice on walking hurriedly to the exit, Childe on the other hand was trying to process things.

And there it was, a sturdy mountain ledge with metal railing (must be something you installed yourself) overlooking the beautiful city, the Tsaritsa's castle outshining the other buildings. The ledge was topped with thick snow with patches of frozen grass. On the side, there was a curious and obscure figure covered in snow, and you approached it.

You tugged on the material and it revealed a table and a pair of chairs, you made sure to keep it from the cold. You sighed out in relief and sat down on one of the chairs, your basket settled by your feet.

You turned to look at your stunned friend. "Come and sit here with me! Aren't you tired?"

Childe looked back at you and his head slowly nods. By the time he had sat down, you offered him a cup of fresh hot chocolate you brought with you on your mission. He gave his thanks and then smiled.

"This goes against your words earlier, you know? That we should hurry back or Tonia would scold us." he smirked at your figure who had just choked on their drink a bit.

You nervously chuckled and looked away. "W-well...what's another lecture, right?"

Childe sighed and turned to look at the view. "Thank you, for sharing this place with me." he said softly, while you nodded in agreement. He felt very warm knowing that he was the very first person to be invited to your secret place. It somehow made him feel even more special. Being your best friend was special enough for him nd he wants to treasure it more.

But he also couldn't help but be selfish and hoped that he could be the only special one in your life.

"I've spent a lot of my time here on this ledge, just watching the city fade to life as soon as night time fall." you started, breaking Childe from his thoughts. "Wouldn't your brother be worried?"

"Oh he's fine with me going out here. I'm glad he trusts me enough to be my own person."

Childe nodded before saying "So...what do you usually do here?"

You stretched your back and cocked your head to the side a bit, trying to remember the many things you've done here.

"This is the place where I let it all out." and by that, Childe knew what you were talking about. "All of my frustrations, heartbreaks, stress and tears. Well, I'm not ashamed to share this to you."

"..I see. Again, thank you."

"Welcome! Ooh, I also tried painting the scenery here, did some yoga in the cold and just plain talk to myself." you laughed at the last part, Childe adoring your aloof mood. He loved the fact that he got to know that you had an interest in art as well, seeing that you kept on talking about the landscape paintings you did while sitting on this ledge, how you also had a hard time keeping your canvas still and up.

"Ah, Ajax, see those mountains behind the Tsaritsa's castle?" you tugged on his sleeve while pointing forward.

"Mhm, yes."

"Those are the Snezhnayan Alps. Unexplored, full of mysteries and thrills. It's one of my dreams to explore those mountains. Record its flora and fauna. It might be cold here but there are plants and flowers that could survive through the cold climate. And maybe, I'll get to discover a new kind of flower!"

Again, another discovery for Childe.

"Well, nothing's stopping you right? I say you go for it. Whatever you set your mind and heart onto, you'll be sure to achieve it. And if anyone says otherwise, just know that I'll be supporting you all the way." he encouraged you, his gloved hand over yours.

You gave him a sweet smile and nods. Childe couldn't help but feel a tug on his heart strings and heat spreading across his face. Your smile falters and you gasped. "God! Your cheeks turned bright red, even your nose!" you laughed loudly,he looked like a certain reindeer.

Childe was still looking at you. Watching you laugh and be this happy makes him feel very light. "Alright, come on. Or else you might freeze to death here."

By the time you two delivered the ingredients, received your pay and came back to Childe's house, Tonia immediately welcomed you two.. in a harsh way.

——

Clang! Clang! Clang!

"What...in the Snezhnayan Alps...?" you groaned, eyes still groggy from sleep as you looked around. It was still dark, so what was causing this noise?!

Suddenly, your curtains flew open and you comiccaly screamed, like a vampire being exposed to the sun. "Rise and shine sleepy head! We've got a big day of activities ahead of us!"

You know that cheerful voice. You groaned and hurriedly snuggled inside your thick blankets. "It's still so early...let me sleep."

Childe frowned and marched towards your bed. He roughly tugged your blankets away from your half-sleeping body and he smiled. "Hey, you promised that you would help us set up for Teucers birthday."

You turned your head with a sour expression, Childe had the audacity to ruin your sleep but then his words clicked and you shot up. "Alright, alright. I'm up!"

By the time you two arrived at his house Anthon greeted you both a good morning and had already asked you help him hang uo some decorations. Decorations in question were customized Mr. Cyclops 'cause...yeah, Teucer.

It was a busy morning. The feast, decorations and even a fireworks display were already being taken care of. Childe has the most important part.

To try and keep Teucer in his room before the big surprise. Moments later and he had the "go" signal. He led Teucer—all spruced up and blindfolded— down the stairs and into the dining room.

Once Childe removed the cover from his eyes, it sparkled in surprise. Teucer saw all of these Mr. Cyclops themed decoration and gifts and cake, all the while his family (including you) sang him "Happy Birthday"

"Thanks you guys! This is by far the greatest birthday ever!" the child cheered.

The festivities kept on going, especially since his friends came over with gifts as well. The day had been very exhausting due to the games you had to host and you told the family that you would be going home early. Childe didn't let you go alone though. So he was there, walking by your side, insisting that he should accompany you.

"Today was fun wasn't it?" Childe chimed happily. You nodded in agreement. "I just couldn't believe that I caught that huge cake when it went flying."

"Right! And remember when a firecracker almost landed in Anthons shirt?! The kid's going to give me a heart attack!" Childe laughed.

"It really is never a dull day when I'm with your family." you said. Childe's family was in utter shock when they heard the news that you two broke up. He talked to his father the most about what really went on. His sister didn't talk to him for a week, saying that she'll never accept anyone as his lover except for you. His mother was quite disappointed at him while his two younger brothers have no clue at all.

Everything's okay now though, he reassured them that he was doing his best to patch things up with you and be friends again. He would always visit your home almost everyday just to hang out or help you along with your commissions. Something he should've done with you a long time ago.

It became a habit of his to wake you up. Believe it or not, this only started recently so you weren't quite used to it. It started from simple things like casually inviting you over just to talk. Or a sleepover with his siblings. Dinner invites and more.

Until the day that he couldn't contact you. He was stressed, I tell you that. For two days you haven't made your presence known to him and it riled him up so bad. So he decided to come over to your house and to his surprise, you were sick in bed.

Just the common flu, don't worry.

"Ahh, "the cold didn't bother you anyway" huh? Well look where it got you." he teased with a smirk.

"Oh do shut up. I just wanted to test my endurance to cold, skinny dipping in that river." you groaned in pain. As a best friend, he politely laughed at your state. But as this confused man with confused feelings, he immediately went to your kitchen and whipped you up with some cream soup, bread and a glass of water.

He ran to the pharmacy nearby to quickly purchase some medicine to go along with your meal. "Here, eat up. Or else you'll miss that expedition team that are bound to the Snezhnayan Alps by the end of next week."

You whined, of course you wouldn't want that. Your hands were about to take the tray from him when he suddenly retracted it. "Hold on, let me feed you—"

"What am I, a child?"

"Well, maybe. Come on, it'll be like old times."

"Old...times?"

"Yes, like when we were still dating—" he was cheerful at first but then he fell silent. He didn't mean to mention anything about that at all. "I'm sorry, it's just a slip of my tongue. I didn't mean to—"

You just laughed at his stuttering mess and slowly took the tray from his hands. "Oh don't worry about it too much. I'll let you feed me, sure." and you handed him back the tray.

And so he started feeding you, both of you realizing that your hands were numb and weak. While feeding you, Childe couldn't help but feel really odd. As if that this moment was slow, but the good kind.

He could feel his heart beat so fast just from the fact that he was feeding you again, while sick in bed. And he realized how worried sick he was when you weren't around for days. He became restless.

When he stopped feeding you, you silently took the tray of food from him and began eating again. "I can take it from here." you said quietly.

Childe was busy with his thoughts. What if...one day, you'll find someone who would do this for you? What if...that someone has a sibling or two and they had a birthday and you were also asked to help, leaving Childe alone to tend to his own siblings birthday. Without you.

What if, that someone would take up most of your time, leaving Childe alone. All alone.

And what if...that someone would end up as your lover and you got married. Leaving Childe alone...

He abruptly stood up, which you flinched and looked at him funny. "You okay Ajax? Don't tell me I've infected you!" you cried.

He gulped and laughed nervously. "Ahahaha, yeah! woohh *cough* *cough*. How could you [Name]?" you arched an eyebrow, like saying "really, bro?"

"Nah, I'm just messing with you. I just remembered something that I needed to fetch for Tonia. So rest and eat well! I'll be back."

"Um, okay. Stay safe out there!" you called and continued eating in peace.

But as soon as he stepped out of your house. He could feel his blood rushing with a mix— no, a hurricane of feelings or emotions!

Jealous, because he doesn't want anyone to do any of those things with or for you.

Confused, because he knows this feeling all too well. And it he has gone deeper now.

Selfish, because he wanted to be that "someone" to you. He knew of your highs and lows, secrets. Guilty pleasures and happiness.

Because he...loves you so much.

——

It was the most torturous week for Childe. The moment he had an epiphany outside your house, he notices. Every. Single. Thing. You. Do.

He noticed how you do your hair or how you sweep your hair to one side if it gets too annoying. He noticed your common hand gestures. He noticed how your pupils dilate when they see something you like. How it would literally sparkle when you're happy. He noticed the way your lips would pout in frustration.

Everything! To the way you walk, talk, laugh, giggle, fight, argue with people. He knew some of things before and now he knows more about you. And he couldn't stop falling in love all over again.

But he should stop himself really. We wouldn't want him to get hurt, now do we? Especially you.

He should stop this, it wouldn't end well for him entirely. He should know of what he did and that he basically lost the privilege to exclusively love you as a partner.

——

You were frantically hurrying up your packing. You were finally going to the Senzhnayan Alps! Running back and forth in your room while Childe was carrying your travel bag.

"Calm down [Name], the meet up isn't until noon. You have plenty of time—"

"Yes, I know that but I just want to make sure that I have everything. I. Need!'

Childe chuckled and you finally packed the last of your items. Noon arrived and Childe walked you to the Guild, whilst reminding you to keep hydrated and be alert at all times.

You two met the expedition team and had exchanged greetings. You turned towards Childe and huffed out. "This is it."

"Go make that dream come true [Name]"

Your smile was big and genuine and you couldn't help but hug your best friend tightly. "Thank you Ajax." you said softly. Childe on the other hand was surprised and an evident blush was on his face. You were hugging him! Dear Tsaritsa, he hopes you wouldn't hear his heart racing!

He clumsily hugged you back and his voice squeaked a bit when he said his "You're welcome."

You laughed at that and stood up properly. "See you in 4 months."

"Yeah, see you. Be careful out there." and there you go, running towards the vehicle that would transport you and your team to the alps. A hand outstretched towards you and you looked up at the owner and accepted it, lifting you up to get on the vehicle.

"Thanks! Uh..."

"Damian. And you are..?"

"[Name], nice meeting you!"

"And to you as well." As soon as the vehicle roared to life, signalling your departure, you immediately turned around and happily waved to Childe.

He waved back as enthusiastic as well. He couldn't wait for that 4 months to be over but he was sure he'll survive.

....or not. Not with that Damian guy seemingly getting close to you. And for that, he just prays that the next morning that Childe woke up, you would be down in his kitchen. A cup of coffee in hand while waiting for him to eat breakfast.

a/n: .....its long. AGAIN. i promise the next part would be the last one!

tags: @tartaglia-please-come-home @ilylifebutwhy @iamconstantlyinpain @s-kiyomi @cyanpasm @raiiny-night

part iv 》