#maybe he's just disgruntled because he lost his friends on a strange island and there's this weird glitchy thing happening to him

[timewontwait]

this game is gonna inject so much muse back into me i can already tell

[brydeswhale]

Fic Preview Time!

Bc I might as well tease you guys since I actually haven’t been writing that much lately.

1. Untamed death row exoneration fic

So, I was writing this one before the US government went on it’s little killing spree, but it started to be topical and real, so I put it on a backburner, but I'm getting back to it.

The house wasn’t huge. Wei Ying knew that, intellectually. Compared to the house he’d grown up in, it was modest. Compared to the entire lake that had been in his backyard as a kid, the small pond and five trees in the backyard were cute. 

But he couldn’t help it, as soon as A-Yuan left the house, just walking from room to room to room, in and out. He tried to be careful and close the screen door, but sometimes he’d forget and one or two rabbits would hop in and surprise Lan Zhan in his office.

Lan Zhan never scolded him for it. He’d just pick the rabbit up and put it in his lap. 

“You’ve got to go to therapy,” Jack came by with a bottle of wine the first day, patted A-Yuan on the head, and let his wife give Lan Zhan a salad with nuts and artichoke hearts. “I’m going to give you this right now, and that’s all the booze you get until you send me a picture of the appointment.”

“I can buy my own alcohol,” Wei Ying laughed at him. 

Jack just smiled indulgently at him.

“Trust me,” he said, gently. “You want to do this. For your kid.”

So he had an appointment on Friday, and until then he was walking the house the same way he’d paced his cell.

Wen Ning was in his room, working on something A-Yuan had asked him to do. Qing-jie was working on finding whatever job a woman who was snatched from the gentle grip of a first year med school could get.

Wei Ying tried to lie down at the edge of the pond. Several goldfish swirled around, looking at him expectantly, and he waved apologetically.

“Lan Zhan told me you guys are on a diet,” he pointed out. The fish, disgruntled, fluttered their fins, and drifted away.

The sun went behind a cloud. The lilies floated in the wind.

He slept. 

The sun shone off the wine bottle, still unopened, on the kitchen windowsill.

So it’s not really about the death penalty, per se, it’s more about exoneration and also humans and trauma and stuff. Really heavy and it makes me sad.

2. Unnamed Teen Wolf vampire fic

So this isn’t REALLY a Vampire The Masquerade crossover, but it kind of IS, because I played that LARP for ten years and I still don’t understand(because I’m stupid) so it incorporated a lot of their brokenness, lol. Basically, it’s Scott getting kidnapped by vampires, who then decide to keep him and won’t give him back based on him being their precious darling.

A hunter came up behind him, but Scott felt, smelled, heard him, and, with a twist, threw him into the lights. They smashed, and several of them died, much to the delight of the captive. Her grin, briefly delightful, suddenly terrifying as two delicate fangs appeared, brought a cry of terror from the hunter as she dragged him up, and Scott found himself stepping forward, hands outstretched helplessly.

“Don’t kill him!”

She paused, and her pout returned.

“But I’m hungry,” she complained. “And he’s not exactly a good guy, wolf, he steals kids.”

“Just,” Scott wanted to agree with her, wanted, suddenly, to just leave the bastard there. She was right. He was a kidnapper and probably a murderer. 

(“Some of us are human!”)

“Just, please,” he begged. “Just leave him. Help me save Siobhan.”

She looked him in the eyes, hesitating, then bent her head and sank her teeth into the hunter’s neck.

Scott felt himself drop a little. That was that. He didn’t know why he’d expected to persuade her otherwise.

“Fine,” she stood up, letting the hunter fall into the broken glass of the lights, blood dripping down her face. “Oh, don’t look at me like that. You could turn a cat from a mouse with those eyes. He’ll live, he just needs some juice.”

...

Maybe it wasn’t the shadows that had taken his breath from him. She’d thought the blood was someone else’s, but she could see it seeping out from under his fingers.

“Are you okay, wolf?”

“Scott,” he reached for a shirt, and pulled it on with jerking, shaking fingers. 

“My name’s Scott McCall,” he clarified for her raised eyebrows, then collapsed in a heap beside a pile of laundry.

She let a note behind. It was what you did, right?

She wrote it out on thin, lined paper, and pinned it to the fridge under a cute, pig shaped magnet. Then she picked him up, and stepped into the darkness.

...

“You’re awake!” The girl walked in carelessly. She wore draping scarves over a loose, not very long dress, and long, flashy necklaces. Her curls didn’t quite seem to match. “Took you long enough.”

“I can’t- I can’t stay here,” he was trying to get up, and he realized that someone had taken off his jeans and replaced them with loose, soft pyjamas. He was wearing a matching shirt. 

“You took my pants?” He held himself up with one hand, and noted, as if from far away, that it was shaking.

“Don’t worry about your maidenly modesty,” she pulled out her phone and used the camera to reapply lipstick in a bruised purple. “Seamus wanted you to be more comfortable. That’s all.”

“I have to go,” he shook his head. “I have to- How long have I been here?”

“Almost four days now,” she said, pushing him back into bed. “Stop that. You nearly died about five times.”

“My friends,” he tried to move, but she was stronger than she looked. Her hands were cold, and she smelled strange. Dull, and still. 

“I left a note,” she seemed utterly unconcerned. “I put it on your fridge. Cute magnets, by the way.”

“I’m Jewel,” she told him, clambering up to sit cross legged on the bed beside him. “Jewel Cleary.”

“Scott-“ she interrupted him carelessly. 

“I know, Scott McCall, you told it to me while you were dying.”

That explained it. They didn’t know he was an alpha.

“I wasn’t dying,” he tried to explain. “I’m an alpha. I would have been fine, you didn’t have to bring me here.”

“You nearly died three times in this very bed, boyo,” a huge, decaying mountain of a man, whose bulk spoke of power beginning to fade, and who had laugh lines at every corner of his face, came in with a steaming tray. “And now you’ll stay in it and eat your dinner and rest until you look a bit less of a corpse.”

“I’m Seamus,” the man handed the food to Jewel, then helped him sit up. “Tho most call me Shea, on the belief that my true name will call all manner of calamities down upon us. You’re Scott McCall, who saved our Jewel, and it’s a pleasure, indeed it is, Mr. McCall.”

He was saved from replying by Jewel putting the tray under his nose and both of them beaming expectantly over a bowl of stew and a cup of something dark and hot. 

It was… very good. And he fell asleep again as soon as he finished.

3. Another Chapter In Mysterious Fathoms Below

So this fic is actually stalled because I’m writing Uma giving a Ted Talk style speech on what it was actually like growing up in a concentration camp run by a totalitarian dictatorship and I’m stumped on it, also the mystical stuff that's coming in. But I'm back on track soon, so hopefully this will come out soon.

“Davy Jones’ Locker!”

“Don’t curse, dear,” Merryweather had scolded absently, trying to clear up supper dishes. 

“Don’t-What? Merryweather, look at the bloody stars!”

Harry grabbed her arm, pushing her to look up at the sky. It was just past dusk, soft and velvety blue, with early stars cheerfully popping into place. She followed Harry’s finger.

There should have been two stars there. One was newer, and that one had taken its place, although it’s bright shimmer was somewhat reduced.

Where the other should have been, there was black emptiness. Somehow, the sky looked cold and empty without it, and its mate seemed to shiver in the blackness.

“The second star,” she whispered. “Oh, Harry, what’s going on?”

…

“I was born in a prison, and on that day, from the moment I came screaming and bloody into this world, I was sentenced to life without parole. Like everyone born on the Isle Of The Lost, all my friends and my enemies, I was born to starve, suffer, and die, for the crime of being born to the losing side.”

“My first memory is of vomit. I was sick, because the food that came to the Isle came off garbage skows. Now, I don’t mean that the ships that transported the food were garbage skows, repurposed for bringing food to our prison, I mean it was garbage. The leftovers, the trash, rags and rot. Every bite we took was Russian roulette, and that day, I guess I lost.”

She smiled, and turned slightly again. She had never managed to stay still, even when she slept, she kicked and pushed out against the world. She had crawled early and walked early, she had swum from the moment of her birth.

“I don’t mean for you to think this was some kind of unusual event. I had food poisoning several times a year. The alternative was to not eat. There were no gardens, no farms. The ground was rocky and hard, and even if we’d managed to till it, the earth was leeched of life, to keep the barrier going. It was fed from the very island.”

From something more than the island. From something that had been since long before the Beast and his doll had been even thought of, something that had reigned before princes and queens.

Ursula drank her daughter’s face in. Sweet and pretty, crowned and gowned, just as she should have been. She traced the curve of her cheek, and pretended that this was something else, something from another world, where Uma was all that she appeared, and pure, and soft. 

…

They were making their way through grey fog, as fast as pixy dust could swing them. The Pan stood at the bow, staring into the mist. When Harry approached, he turned, eyes glowing with a terrible fire.

“It’s begun, impossible child,” he said, cheerfully.

Harry swore at him, savagely, and sat on the rail, listening for the sounds of planes and guns.

…

“Look how she lights up the sky,” she could hear Naveen singing, singing somewhere far away.

She stumbled out of bed. He must have been singing to Jimmy, and Jimmy was probably missing her.

But when she got to the nursery doorway, it was gone. 

The air was rich and humid, sweet with flower and sour with decay. Dragonflies hummed, their jewel-like bodies gleaming in the last of the sunlight as they danced over the glimmering water. She took one step, and another, the ground not giving way, but welcoming her in, wrapping water and earth around each foot. The trees swayed overhead, moss waving in the wind.

A place of death. A place of life.

3. The next chapter in Five Wolves Sansa Never Had

So this was a fic that stemmed from my irritation that Sansa lost her puppy. This chapter is called “Ned, you fucked up big time” and its about Ned trying to replace Lady with a sickly puppy who actually IS a dire wolf. Knowing what I know about dire wolves now, this is HILARIOUS.

He almost bought a doll, but Jory had shaken his head furiously, and he’d stepped past the toy shop, to a man selling what he called “exotic beasts, fit for the King’s own menagerie”.

Of course, the quiet little pup certainly wasn’t the dire wolf the man advertised him to be, but something in his golden eyes and quiet nature had reminded him of Lady, and he’d paid far too much for the little creature. 

Far, far too much, it seemed now.

Sansa hadn’t been grateful. She’d sullenly put it in her lap, and told him he couldn’t replace Lady, and needn’t have tried. Then she’d gone to her chambers, ignoring Arya, who wanted to play with the little creature.

At first he’d thought it was simply a quiet pup, like Lady had been. It had had little appetite, and messed in Sansa’s chambers, but she had been used to that from Lady’s infancy and hadn’t complained. He’d heard it when he accidentally eavesdropped on Jeyne’s complaints to another maid.

But after some days it had become clear that the little beast was dying. Food and water ran through it, ending in messes on the floor, it slept for hours, and when it woke, it cried weakly. It couldn’t walk, and Sansa would carry it out to the gardens, lay it on a blanket, and sit and embroider, only getting up to change the linens under the poor thing, or to persuade it to take a sip of water or a bite of food.

Ned tried to broach the facts of the matter with Sansa, but she had only glared stoney-faced at him, until he found himself faltering and retreating. He’d thought of sneaking in at night and smothering the creature, but it felt too much like murder, and he finally gave up, leaving the little creature alone to die in peace.

The one good thing about the matter, which was the rift between Sansa and Joffrey. The Prince found the puppy disgusting and wasn’t quiet about it, and Sansa found his rudeness distasteful, and tactfully avoided the boy. By the time he was able to put them on a ship, sickly pup and all, she was distant enough from Joffrey that her protests were only quiet, pointed remarks about how he had made her fit to be a princess, and now didn’t find the price she brought him high enough.

It reminded him, chillingly, of how Lyanna had argued with his father, and he found himself unable to embrace her when she left.

…

Stark had sent one of his daughters with a Braavosi swords master and the other with a sickly puppy, as if he thought that Stannis hadn’t enough to do, and would appreciate some further inconveniences. 

The younger daughter had no idea how to behave, and put the entire castle into uproar after uproar. But if he had hoped that the eldest daughter, who had lived up to her reputation as far as being a pretty child, who curtsied precisely the right depth, would balance the little urchin by behaving and staying in her place, he was, well, mildly disappointed.

“The dog will be placed in the kennels,” he told them on the arrival.

The girl shook her head. 

“No, my lord.”

He had paused, and the entire parade of noblewomen, septas and servants had stumbled in its tracks.

“No, Lady Sansa?”

She met his eyes, and he was reminded, uncomfortably, of her father.

“No, my lord,” she reiterated. “He shall not go to the kennels. He is the symbol of my house and he will remain with me.”

“It’ll probably die soon, anyhow,” the younger girl told him. “It’s been dying since father bought it, it’s an ugly little thing.”

For a moment, Lady Sansa was unable to school her expression to proper demureness, and a cold rage turned her eyes from sky on sea blue to springtime ice as she glanced at her sister. It only lasted for a heartbeat, then she was back to cold courtesy.

Stannis ignored their silent squabble, and looked more closely at the creature. It lay limply in her arms, eyes unfocused, and breaths shallow. 

“At the very least,” he allowed. “We ought not to bring whatever sickness that is amongst the dogs.”

Later, he found the girl seated by her hearth, trying to feed the little creature a soup of broth and bones, while her ancient septa slept in the window seat. The pup ate but little, and the girl rubbed a hand over her eyes before she saw him and stood to curtsey again.

“Forgive me, my lord, I did not see you.”

“I brought this,” he held up a small pot. “I purchased it for a sick hound, once, and it brought the creature strength enough to heal.” 

She thanked him very prettily, and he mixed a spoonful with the broth she was trying to feed the pup, showing her the portions carefully and appreciating her careful attention. Between them, they got the poor thing to finish the broth and eat a little meat, before it fell asleep in a rabbit fur lined basket.

“Thank you, my lord.” 

He took a closer look at the child. He’d never thought much about the girl who would marry his goodsister’s bastard, but he could see now that she had bright, intelligent eyes, despite her clear exhaustion, and that she carried herself very well.

“It must have been a shock,” he said, abrupt in his discomfort. “When your father told you why he had to break your betrothal.”

She hesitated.

“My father,” her voice was very soft, and uncertain. “My father has not-“

He stared at her, irritable and disbelieving. 

“Did your father not tell you why you were being sent here?”

He knew he sounded skeptical, but the idea that Eddard Stark would not have told his eldest child why her very excellent marriage pact was being broken seemed truly ludicrous. Stark wasn’t stupid, and he was a man of honour. It would only serve him well to keep his eldest daughter in his confidence.

The girl blushed in embarrassment. 

“He-He told Arya,” she said, slowly. “That is, I believe he told her. She hasn’t said anything. To me. But he speaks to her. He likes her.”

Stannis frowned. 

There had been another father, once upon a time, that father had made sure there was a space in his mews for a crippled bird, and as much fresh and good food for her as any flighted creature, all because his son had hoped she might fly again. Even if that son was not as handsome, or charming, or bright as his brother.

“Your father has been foolish,” he told her, coldly. He had not the talent to speak to children, but she seemed to understand that he meant no harm to her. “He may as well have sent you riding an aurochs blindfolded.”

“No matter,” he continued, and sat down in a chair by the hearth, motioning her to the opposite seat. “Listen to me. It’s a very long story.”

…

“…His Grace, the King, has explained all to me, my Lord Father. 

I am very glad to hear that you have escaped your confinement. Perhaps we shall see each other again soon.

Your Obedient Daughter,

Sansa Stark, lately of Dragonstone”

There was something cold about the letter, Ned thought, running a hand through his hair, for all that it was prettily written, with no ink blotches or crossed words, but he couldn’t quite tell what made him think so. He set it aside, with a group of others he planned to answer later, including word from White Harbour and the Wall.

Stannis had overstepped, he thought. Sansa was too young to know the truth of her betrothal, that her former betrothed was a bastard born of incest, that Jon Arryn had been murdered. But Stannis had never been known for tact.

His son had become a king. The Riverlands and the North called him so. So did some among the Vale. Word had come to the Stormlands, just as he managed to convince Renly to wait for the proper order of succession.

He put it aside for now. Robb was a boy, he could be persuaded to see sense.

“Sansa has chainjed her hair again. She just brayds it and pins it back under a hood like the new Queen does except she hardly spends any time with the queen. She and Stannis are always together with the Prinsess. All they do is play kivuss, and talk over maps and books. 

“I found a secret passij in the cellar of the kassle. It goes to the dungeon.

“Are you alright, Father? I herd one of the men say you lost your leg. I miss you very much.”

He smiled fondly over the mis-spelled words, imagining Arya roaming a new castle, learning all the new haunts and secrets.

“My Dearest Arya,

“I have not lost my leg, but it was very badly infected. I hope you are well, and you are behaving for your hosts…” 

…

The black wolf didn’t die, to everyone’s surprise. To their further astonishment, he thrived, with an ever-growing appetite and a newfound strength to match. He began to grow, and developed a certain cool dignity, to match his mistress’ adolescent gentility. She named him “Prince” and embroidered a collar in silver-grey thread and white shell beads.

Stannis wasn’t, precisely, surprised to find that the elder of his new wards was quick and clever, or that she knew already the names and banners of nearly every house in the Seven Kingdoms, and the relevant histories of said houses. His wife was pleased with her sewing and manners, and engaged a musician to teach her and Shireen the high harp and the lute. The girl’s septa kindly took Shireen under her wing, along with the younger Stark girl(when she wasn’t playing at swords with her water dancing master or dragging Shireen and Patchface into trouble) and their maid. She couldn’t really do much more than teach them etiquette and sewing, but she meant well, and she was too old to do anything else, so Stannis allowed it.

Sansa and Melisandre had begun a polite war. Word had been that the girl prayed as much in the sept as her father’s godswood, but she was little interested in opening her faiths any further, and clearly disliked the Red God’s followers for their fanatic disavowal of the older faiths. The small folk had been afraid that she was a witch, with her black wolf as a familiar, but when she proved kind and generous, they apparently decided that she was a good lady, whose wolf was a sign of favour by either the old gods, or the new.

[crazyassmurdererwall]

1/4 I saw a picture of Larry Hagman during his "I dream of Jeannie" days and thought 'huh, that is almost the same haircut as Stiles' and then I started to think of a Jeannie Sterek AU. An easy parallel, enthusiastic djinn and long suffering master, BUT what if you flip it? Special Agent Stiles Stilinski gets lost during a mission and winds up on a deserted island. He finds out that the bottle he thought contained his last drink on earth ("See you on the other side, pops") actually contained

2/4 something far more interesting ("Sigh"). After his miraculous return he turns out to be a strange master who doesn't mind having a donut fountain magicked in his office ("Wont your superiors have question?" "My superiors stopped asking after my first 48 hours") but can't stand it to have his perps captured by magic ("You think I can't do my JOB?!"). His friend Jackson "James Bond, but with a Porsche" Whittemore is 50% jealous ("So you cheated?" "What? No!") and 50% intrigued ("If he ever

3/4 gets too much for you I'll gladly-" "nu uh."). And the grumpiest djinn on this planet who doesn't know what google is and once magicked a perpetuum mobile after Stiles made the mistake of asking for a new tablet but has read almost all the books in the library of Alexandria and can make it rain cotton candy indoor ("sigh, really Master?", "Indulge me, it's for science"), just wants to live a quiet life. And maybe hide with his cute- uh curious master from a certain purple skinned djinn named

4/4 Kate, who imprisoned him in a bottle 2000 years ago. [Sorry for the long ask, this idea just wouldn't go away.]

+++++++++++++++

WELL, ANON...I gotta say, the idea of disgruntled djinn Derek is kind of amazing? Imagine the constant eyerolls because Stiles is positively ridiculous and HE CAN’T BELIEVE THIS IS THE MASTER HE LANDED OH MY GOD, but also he can’t believe how warm he feels? Like, all the time. And as much as he complains really he can’t believe his luck because THIS IS THE MASTER HE LANDED THIS TIME. Because Stiles is, by far, the best master he’s ever had. Like, that’s pretty clear pretty quickly. Some of his masters have been truly terrible people. But Stiles takes care of him. He looks after Derek. No one has ever looked after Derek before.

Also the idea that Stiles’ superiors just sort of started shrugging after 48 hours with him? (“It’s Stilinski”, they say, whenever someone questions them, as if that makes the answer completely obvious.) Very on brand. I can just imagine all the ridiculous things Stiles would ask Derek for in the office, just to confuse people. He’d get such a fucking kick out of that.

But after a while, once he realizes how many consent issues exist with djinn, Stiles stops asking Derek for things. Like, refuses to. And Derek is so confused because no one has ever done that before? And he’s a little upset and hurt because why doesn’t Stiles want things from him anymore? And eventually it comes out that Stiles only wants Derek to give him things if Derek wants to, and AJSHBFHSBASJDJASDBJSADBASKJD.

You should write it, anon. 

[mbovettwrites-blog]

Blackbird - 500 Follow Excerpt

It’s been long enough. Let’s just get into it.

In the background, she heard the faint whistle of a late night train pulling into the station. At least something was still working at this unholy hour.

Only a few people emerged from the archway leading to the platforms, the thickness of the night outside dispersed by twinkling lights strung along the wall. The first was a businessman, which Maria learned first from his irate posture and prim expression and secondly from noting the expensive suit and briefcase. Next was a pair of women huddled under a scarlet umbrella, an elderly man with his pace defiantly brisk and his lips pursed in disdain as he glanced across Maria’s slouched shoulders, and a gang of students whose raucous laughter felt poisonous in the previously peaceful station.

The first thing she noticed about the students was that there were four of them, and the second was that they were all boys. Each of them was impossibly energised and bright-faced for such an hour of the morning, and it momentarily occurred to Maria that they were all drunk – then she grew sensible again and reminded herself that drinking was illegal on cross-country trains.

They were foreigners, obviously. More foreign than her. Northerners, from one of the many wealthy pockets of Verlinden or Adovya where they were expected to just casually take a train from one end of the continent to another on a spontaneous summer holiday.

Well, then, she thought, the voice in her head sounding far more stiff and repulsed than she had expected of herself, Let them be miscreants. Anyways, they’ve chosen a terrible place for a weekend away if they’re looking for that kind of meaningless fun.

Only one of them – the quietest, his arms swinging laxly at his sides rather than gesturing wildly in all directions – looked as though he could pass as a native to a Gulf Belt country. Ygar, most likely. But his company betrayed him. They looked like the kind of people whose company her mother would have enjoyed, if she were both young and present with her. He seemed fixated on the presence of an alarmingly skinny boy at his side, whose shock of coal-black hair did little to distract Maria from the fact that she could see the outline of his bones in his face and his hands. This boy was by far the loudest, letting of bouts of high-pitched laughter every other second that sounded not entirely unlike the train whistle.

His arm was slung around the shoulders of the shortest, who looked more out of place in Cuorren than Maria had thought possible. For one thing, he appeared to still be wearing his school uniform. Schools in Navarios didn’t have uniforms. Feeling a little pleased as the fact presented itself, she then also recalled that she’d read a study in a newspaper that said Navarios students were fifteen per cent happier and thirteen per cent less prone to stress and anxiety than those in Verlinden’s supposedly world-class academies.

Honestly? Maria was quite sure that the only people who thought Verlinden’s education was the best were the people who had been raised and brainwashed in it. Everyone she knew thought the school system was a mockery, designed to manufacture posh, well-to-do young intellectuals with no individuality or purpose beyond making money for their already dangerously wealthy country.

She could yet be wrong. They could be from Adovya which, though not by much, was a noteworthy improvement.

Goddesses forsake her if they were students at Hylin.

She didn’t quite have time to analyse the fourth before he had invited himself to sit next to her.

Her lips puckered in distaste as he offered up a lazy smile and a hand to shake. Quarter past one in the morning was not a good hour for her to be interacting with stuck-up people at, lest she bite their heads off like a five-headed hound. Tersely, she accepted the handshake. It was just like the ones she received from the white-shirted men Arabella introduced her to, sometimes because they were one-week lovers and sometimes because they were work colleagues from her lawyer world. She prayed that this boy would become neither.

“Evan Charlize,” he said, and then continued in extremely broken Agion, “A pleasure to meet you.”

In flawless Verlinden, she replied, “Maria None-Of-Your-Business. Try again when I’m not tired enough to sleep through the end of the world.”

The boy’s eyebrows quirked up, eyes widening slightly. The loud one half-cackled, half-wheezed, slipping easily past his companions and slapping his friend hard on the shoulder. Still in Verlinden, he howled, “Evan, my man, she just gave you a smack down! That was awesome! Matt, my boy, did you get that on camera? I’m replaying that at his eighteenth – ‘The One Where Evan Gets Showed Up by a Strange Girl’, anyone?”

Evan – Maria presumed that was the name of boy sat beside her – frowned. It was only when this happened that she noticed just how bushy and unruly his eyebrows were. They looked like tiny, sun-yellowed squirrel tails.

“No to all of that, Sal. That was not a ‘smack down’, that was just rude. Daj, teach your boyfriend some respect.”

The quiet one folded his arms across his chest. “Not my boyfriend, not my responsibility.”

Sal giggled hysterically again, collapsing against Evan in the process. Evan, Sal, and Daj – that left the uniformed kid as Matt. She decided to focus on him instead, since he was the only one who hadn’t spoken yet and therefore was also the only one who had yet to irritate her.

Daj spoke up again. “Here’s an idea that, shockingly, neither of you have thought of – maybe she doesn’t want you here because you’re making moves on her and she’s very uncomfortable with that. Matt, come on, you had to have picked up on that.”

Maria growled. “I know you’re trying to be nice, but I do have the basic ability to stand up for myself. I am exceptionally tired. Leave. Me. Alone.”

Sal’s eyes went wider than Evan’s. Pushing himself away from his disgruntled friend with a bounce in his step (which, given the ridiculous time of night, defied all logic and reason that Maria possessed), he swung an arm around Daj’s neck instead and let out a long whistle. It was at this moment that Maria’s observational skills fully caught up with the rest of her brain and she noted that Sal was, in fact, flaunting a crop top. Not that it was unusual – she had seen every fashion statement possible in her corner of Navarios – but she somehow wanted such a charismatic person to have the added bonus of knowing when it was chilly enough to wear a jacket over it.

She knew from experience back home that the nights in the Gulf Belt were as damp and humid as a fox’s armpit, but the air conditioning in the station was on overkill. At that moment, she would trade the lives of all of these boys for one minute in the heat of the midday sun.

“Whatever,” Evan huffed, standing up with a slight grunt. “We’re stuck here until the morning trams start running anyways. How long is that, anyways?”

“Ten to seven. They start at sunrise,” Maria interjected curtly.

“I was under the impression that Your Majesty wasn’t going to talk to us.” Evan’s eyes looked almost as chaotic and grey as the storm raging outside as he snapped back at her, all previous interests in being gentlemanly lost the moment she bared her teeth at him. She couldn’t care less. He’d apologise when the sun came up and the tropical warmth melted his temper tantrum away.

“Evan, even the Goddesses know you’re too grouchy to be socially interacting with other people right now. Find somewhere to sleep it off, you’re even starting to exhaust me.”

Matt had taken it upon himself to speak now. One hand was thumbing the corner of his shirt collar as he scolded Evan and followed it up with an apologetic smile tossed at Maria – the other was tucked tightly into his trouser pocket. At last, Evan decided that this was somebody he could agree with, and marched across the room to stretch all six feet of himself across the opposing bench. Back turned to the rest of them. Obviously.

“In another time, this would’ve been hilarious,” Sal said with a sigh. The corners of Maria’s mouth tugged up in an inkling of smile.

“You don’t say.”

He performed a walk that was somewhere between a skip and a strut as he went to join Evan, and Daj followed in respectful silence. Matt was the last one to speak and to go, talking and smiling over his shoulder as he trailed after his friends.

“He’ll be more polite come sunrise, I promise you. I’m sorry we had to meet like this.”

“Keep him and his temper! Didn’t plan on meeting you all in the first place!”

Leaving that as the closing statement of the tumultuous conversation, she unzipped one of her suitcases and dug around until she pulled out three identical crimson hoodies, draped them around her goosebump-ridden arms, and nestled in to wait out the storm still thundering above them.

So, this is about half of the second chapter showcasing the introduction of some other major characters (because as much as I love Ingrid, I love these guys too and they deserve some more spotlight). I would have put this out yesterday when I actually hit 500, like I promised, but I became swamped with work and sort of burned out and fell asleep a full two hours earlier than I’d normally even consider going to bed. So, yeah, that was a tad time-consuming.

I’m going to tag @kbcypher for being so supportive of this WIP and often seeming a little upset when updates are missed, @jade-island-lives for also being generally supportive and also being someone who keeps popping up time and time again in my notes, and @bitteredplum because they’re a cute art kid who is probably the only person I know IRL who I can actually stand.

They also drew a little doodle of Maria and Ingrid the last time they came over to my house, which I need to post soon

Thank you all again for 500! xx

[themadlostgirl]

Not Dead Yet (Part 47)

*Early update! Also a bit of a lengthy one. Either way I like it!*

Pairing: Reader x Peter Pan

Warnings: language

“How did you not notice the poison ivy everywhere?” Ben looked over Isaac and I with our rashes. I had only meant to take a quick nap and ended up falling asleep under Peter’s Thinking Tree next to Isaac. Being as dark as it was I didn’t notice the patch of poison ivy and while Isaac seemed to be in the majority of it and I had rolled into some of it.

“I’m sorry my night vision wasn’t working at the time.” I grabbed the aloe from him and started to rub the plant’s soothing gel on my itchy arms.

“Serves you right.” Verne grumbled. He and his friends had finally been allowed down from their perch.

“Do you really want to make me mad again, Verne?” I smirked at the way he curled his toes back, “That’s what I thought.”

“You could at least give Paul his tongue back.”

“He can have it back if he finds it.” I shrugged and whistled down for Candace. She landed on my shoulder looking older than usual. She’s probably nearing the end of her cycle and would burst into flames soon. Probably not best to have her around camp when that happens unless I want the camp burnt down again.

I walked her to the beach and made a little divet in the sand for her to nestle in while I waited for her to combust. I rubbed at my arms trying to drum up some heat. Why was it so cold this morning? The sea was clouded with fog and I could just barely make out the silhouette of the Jolly Roger on the horizon. Was Peter away from the island? I can’t think of why he would be upset unless he ran into Tigerlily or something like that.

“Peter,” I called but he didn’t show up, “Curiouser and curiouser.” He always shows up when I call. Maybe he is away from the island. But it’s far earlier than he would normally leave and if he left the island last night he would have been back that same night. What reason could he have for being gone all night? The only time he was ever gone so long without telling me was when he...went for a visit.

I shook the thought from my head. He hasn’t done that since we started our own arrangement. He’s told me time and again that he doesn’t want to sleep with others because he has me. Then again I did tell him I wanted things to be toned down. Not just the frequency of which we had sex but our familiarity around each other in general. What if he took that farther than I meant? What if he was back on other girls? What if he never actually stopped? Peter leaves the island a lot and he’s a good enough liar that sometimes not even I can see through his illusions.

“No. That’s stupid.” I muttered to myself, “He wouldn’t lie to me. He knows the repercussions to not being honest with me. We trust each other. I am his confidant and his friend as well as his lover I should not be so worried about this.”

Candace hopped out of her sand nest and came to rest on my lap. I ran a soft hand down her back. “I’m just being paranoid. Aren’t I, Candace? Just because Peter’s away from the island doesn’t mean he’s off sleeping with other girls. What should I care if he is anyway? This is just an arrangement between friends. Purely physical…”

My mind flashed back to the other night when I willingly fell asleep in Peter’s tent wrapped in his arms. A warmth started to blossom in my chest...then my legs and into my hands--oh shit! I quickly scrambled off the ground knocking Candace off my lap as she erupted into a column of flames. My lap and part of my chest was singed a bit but it was my hands that had gotten the majority of the damage. “Just perfect,” I looked back to see Candace poke her naked head out of the smoking pile of ash, “I hope you’re happy. Look how blistered my hands are.” I scooped her up and placed her inside of my coat.

I got back to camp and smeared some more aloe across my hands. Seeing as how my hands hurt too much to hold anything I had to abstain from training and instead took a walk along the beach. This has just been the most inconvenient day ever. I think I’m just going to wrap my hands up and go back to bed for the day.

I settled back down in my tent ready to just sleep the rest of the day through but I was not going to get that luxury because the moment I laid down all the boys came back making a ruckus. “Come on. Why is nothing going my way today?”

I sat back and glared at the boys as they ran around playing and eating. That’s it, I’m going back to the Thinking Tree and hiding out in the cavern for the rest of the day. At least there it’ll be quiet and boy free and birds won’t explode while I’m holding them. I dragged myself back to where the Thinking Tree was and jumped down the hole that led to the underground cavern.

Strange enough when I landed at the bottom of the cavern it was not dark like it usually was but it was filled with light. Sitting at the table was Peter hunched over a stack of parchment. He glanced over at me mildly surprised. “Wait, have you been here this whole time?”

“Hello to you too.” he set his pencil down and turned toward me fully, “What are you doing down here?”

“Trying to find some peace and quiet. I’ve been having a bit of an off day.” I held up my bandaged hands. “Why are you down here?”

“Same as you, peace and quiet.” I sat down next to him and he started to untie the bandages from my hands. “What happened here?”

“Candace.” I muttered as he started to heal the blisters, “She started to combust when I was holding her.”

He moved his hands up to erase the poison ivy rash from my arms. “There. If you still want to stay then go ahead and rest, I won’t bother you.” he turned back to his parchment.

“Oh why thank you,” I rolled my eyes and scooted closer to see what he was doing, “I see you’re putting that pencil box I gave you to good use.”

All around him were sketches of various things. I picked up one that was a rather splendid likeness to Candace herself. “Have you been down here all day just drawing?”

“It helps keep me calm.” he muttered as he took the paper back.

“Keep calm? Why, may I ask, are we not so calm this foggy day?” I asked.

“Weren’t you looking for a place to rest in silence?” he snapped and I backed off.

“Excuse me,” I huffed and flung myself back on the bed, “I was just asking a question. What’s going on? You’ve always been able to talk to me before.”

“Not now, Y/N.” he grumbled back.

“Fine...can I ask you one more thing though? Just one.”

He let out a sigh and turned back towards me waiting for my question with an impatient glare, “If you’ve been down here all day, why didn’t you come when I called for you?”

“Contrary to popular belief I am not at your constant beck and call, Y/N.”

“I never said you were but…”

But you usually always are.

“Were you gonna finish that thought?” he quirked an eyebrow up at me.

“Nevermind.” I tossed one of the animal pelt blankets over my head. I was able to breathe out a small breath of relief. He’s just been down here all day and not off running around other realms with pretty face princess and midnight maidens. Not that I should care anyway that is! “UGH!”

“The hell--” Peter flung the blanket off me, “Did you just have a mental break?”

“Possibly.” I drew my legs closer to me, “I don’t know what’s up with me lately. I brought Tigerlily here hoping I could have a female companion that could make dealing with all you boys easier and she’s somehow done the exact opposite.”

“Told you, fairies are terrible.” he sat down next to me, “Can I ask what she’s done now that’s put you in such a disgruntled state?”

“Things. Stupid things. Mainly pertaining to you and I. I don’t know how but because of it I’ve flipped my brain and I can’t go back to thinking the way I used to. It’s like there’s a happy ending right in front of me but I can’t get to it because I need to keep making tangents that I actually don’t want to make but I feel like I need to because I’m too scared to get to the happy ending!”

“Tangents like Isaac?”

“What?” I looked over at him but he wasn’t meeting my gaze. “What does Isaac have to do with this?”

“You tell me.” he flung a piece of paper at me.

I unfolded it and read over the note. “But this is the note Isaac left for me in my tent to meet him at your Thinking Tree. Why do you have it?”

“No. You left this note for me in my tent last night after I returned from trying to find the Truest Believer.”

“I never left you a note.” we inspected the parchment in a new light. It was the exact same handwriting from my note from Isaac. Why would he send both of us the exact same note though? He made it clear he only wanted to speak to me last night.

“This new Lost Boy seems to be up to some mischief.” Peter stood off the bed and extended a hand to me, “Little brat wanted me to see you two.”

“Why? It’s not like anything happened. We talked and we fell asleep.” the information was starting to add up, “And when we woke up we were in a patch of poison ivy. Mainly he was.”

I stared Peter down. Was this him being territorial? He couldn’t seriously have believed I’d have interest in a pale Lost Boy like Isaac. I had made it fairly obvious who my type was. It’s not like I haven’t been familiar with the others either. I go skinny dipping with the boys all the time. Devin actively peeped on me my first day in Neverland so it’s not like I’m not used to having no privacy or even any personal space. Why had my falling asleep next to Isaac piss him off so bad that he had to conjure up a rash inducing plant around us?

“Glare all you want but I do not have to explain myself to you. We need to go find this kid and find out what his problem is.” he hauled me off the bed. I made a mental note to bring this whole jealousy/territorial idiocy up after we dealt with this Isaac situation. In a gust of wind we were gone from the cavern.

~~~

Run and hide!

“Holy--” Isaac was thrown back at the sudden shouting in his head. “What is--”

“Geez, Isaac, what’s your problem?” the others looked down at him.

“Nothing. I just--”

Stop your babbling! Find a bean and run! You need to get as much space between you and others as fast as you can if you want to live.

“Why?” he whispered quietly, “What’s happening?”

Go before you incompetence gets you killed! I’ll buy you some time.

“But--”

“Where’s Isaac?” Pan’s voiced boomed from the center of camp.

“Ooh, looks like someone’s in trouble.” the other boys grinned at him like he was about to be devoured and they couldn’t wait to see the carnage.

“I gotta go.” Isaac took off running into the jungle. Where had he seen the bean grove before?

~~~

“I said, where is Isaac?” Peter demanded. He had felt the Lost Boy’s presence here a moment before. Where had he gone?

“He took off.” One of the others stated, “Shall we go hunting?”

“I believe we shall.” Peter could do with hunting down a scared pup in over his head.

“Peter,” Y/N tugged on his arm, “Something’s wrong.”

“What do you--Y/N?” the gem of her necklace turned as black as onyx. The black of her pupils expanded until her entire eye was clouded with black. She went rigid before collapsing completely. “Y/N!”

Devin caught her before she hit the ground. Her eyes never closed or even blinked. “Dammit,” Peter tried to tear the necklace from her throat but it held sure.

“That’s not gonna work,” a voice that wasn’t Y/N’s echoed from her mouth, “Your Lost Girl is currently unavailable.”

“Who the hell are you and what are you doing possessing my Lost Girl?” Peter had to remember this was still Y/N’s body and not to choke her.

“I’m not surprised you don’t recognize my voice. The last time you heard it you were nothing but a babe.” She peeled herself off the ground and started pacing around the boys. There was power in each step. Whoever was using Y/N’s body was far more confident than she should be considering she was intruding in Peter’s Lost Girl.

“Who are you and what are you doing in my Lost Girl?”

“This was the only way I could think to talk to you without appearing myself. Besides, I have a feeling you’ll be much more cooperative if I was in this form given what I can make her do.” Peter eyed the dagger strapped to Y/N’s hip.

“Fine. You have my attention. Care to introduce yourself?”

“My name is Fiona, or as I’m better known, the Black Fairy.” she smiled, “And I’m your mother, Peter.”

Not a sound came from the entirety of the camp. This black-eyed demon that had taken over Y/N’s body stood sure and straight never once blinking as her words resonated within Peter. His mother? That was impossible. His mother had been a mortal. A horrible mortal that had tried to kill him because she thought he was a changeling.

“Shocked? I would be surprised if you weren’t. After all these years you probably haven’t thought about your real family. Then again you didn’t know about me so I cannot blame you.”

“You are not my mother.” Peter’s words dripped with malice, “I have no mother. The woman that bore me died many years ago.”

“Ah yes, the mortal woman…” the Black Fairy/Y/N grimaced, “She was supposed to raise you in my stead but that didn’t quite work out as I had hoped.”

“Even if you are my real mother, which I don’t care if you are, why are you here? What business do you have with me?”

“What do you think, dearie?” she stretched out a hand as if to touch his face but Peter hit it away. She frowned as if his rejection was the most hurtful thing he had ever done, “You are my son. I’ve come to bring you home with me.”

“And leave Neverland? There is no amount of magic or gold you could offer that would get me to leave here and be your son.”

“Is that so? Not even if I were to tell you I could remove your curse?” this made Peter freeze and she smirked. “Oh yes, I know about your little predicament.”

“You speak of things you have no knowledge about.”

“Maybe not I, but this Y/N girl does. She knows a lot about you.” she smirked, “I’ve been able to go through her mind, see her memories, even the ones she’s forgotten. She knows you very well and you care for her an awful lot. Good thing she didn’t listen to Tigerlily when she mentioned the necklace. I was almost worried but of course you pulled through for me.”

“The magic I sensed…”

“Mine. But you took it as yours because it was so familiar. Is that enough proof that you are my son.”

Peter couldn’t believe what he was hearing. For years he’s been trying to forget the torment he went through when he was just a newborn. Forget the woman that he thought birthed him and move on with his life. Now this fairy had taken control of his Lost Girl and was telling him that she was in fact his actual mother. More than that she was telling him she suddenly wanted him? Why now? She could have collected him anytime but she chose now.

“If I am your son then why do you want me now? You gave me up years ago, what use do I have to you now? It’s not exactly like I’m clamoring for a parent.” Peter sneered.

“It’s not the use I have for you but the use you could have for me. I can lift your curse. Together we can accomplish anything. Rule the realms with ease. You need never have a worry again if you come with me. Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

“You cannot lift my curse and even if you could I already have a cure. Everything I need and could ever want is right here. Now how about you shove off before you make me do something you’ll regret.”

“I don’t think you are understanding what I am offering you. You can join me and I will lift your curse and we can rule all the realms together or you can remain cursed on this spit of jungle hoping for a remedy I know you do not have yet and may die before ever achieving. Which honestly sounds better?”

“Neverland. Always.”

“Fine. I was hoping it wouldn’t have to come to this.” she snapped her fingers and the necklace started to shrink growing tighter around Y/N’s throat yet the voice came out clear. “Come with me or the girl dies.”

Peter watched as the necklace grew smaller and smaller. He had to make a decision. “Go ahead.” he put on his most convincing smirk, “Offing just one of my recruits isn’t going to make me change my mind.”

“Is that so? And here I thought you may have actually cared for her given all the lengths you’ve gone to for her before.” she chuckled, “I can see it all. The kind words, the drastic measures to keep her safe, the intimate dances, and such pretty drawings.”

Peter’s blood was boiling but he kept it bottled down. If he played his cards right he could get the both of them out of this sadistic confrontation. “Sentimentality is not an attribute of mine. You are only seeing the honeyed words for a stubborn common whore.”

“Well then,” she stuck out her lip in a pout, “If she truly is worth nothing to you than there is no point in me prolonging this.” The necklace cinched tight like a noose as it started to cut into her neck. A thin line of red blossoming across her throat.

“No!” Devin shouted,”Leave her alone!” he tried in vain to pull the necklace free. Devin looked back at Peter pleading. “Damn it you coward! Save her!”

“Stop.” Peter pushed Devin away and approached Y/N’s possessed body. “I’ll go with you. Just leave Y/N out of this.”

She smiled cruelly as the necklace loosened. Peter immediately pressed a hand to the cut stopping the bleeding and healing her throat until there wasn’t a mark left. “Good choice. And to ensure that you don’t try anything, this necklace will not fall until you leave.”

Peter withdrew a bean from the pouch at his side and handed the pouch off to Felix. “You’re in charge till I get back. Don’t let these idiots destroy the place.”

“How will you get back?” Felix asked worry evident in his voice.

“I’m not sure. I’ll think of something. In the meantime find that rat Isaac. I want to have his head on a stake when I get back.” he turned back to Y/N, “I want to speak to her.”

“Of course. But don’t forget, I’ll still be watching.” She closed her eyes and when they opened they were clear once more. Y/N fell forward into him and gazed around.

“What happened?” she asked groggily, “I felt like I wasn’t anywhere. Peter, what’s wrong?”

“Are you alright?” he asked and she nodded. “I have to go do something. I’ll be back though. I don’t know when but I will.”

“What do you mean? Where are you going? What’s going on?”

“I can’t explain right now. Just stay here and don’t do anything stupid.”

“Wait you can’t just leave so abruptly like this--” he cut her off with a deep kiss not caring who was watching. There was so much he wanted to tell her but this was not the time for it.

Reluctantly he pulled back and pressed his forehead against her’s, “I’ll return to you and explain everything,” he whispered, “I promise.”

She studied him for a moment before giving his lips another peck, “You had better.”

“I will. My word is my bond.” He gave her one final look before dropping the bean on the ground and stepping through the portal. The sight of the necklace falling from around her neck being the last thing he saw before being sucked through the violent torrent into the unknown.

(First) (Previous) (Next)

[serine-glutamic]

Monochrome: Shelter

BEWARE: Mild spoilers (I think? If you haven’t watched BSD season 2, it will be spoiler lol)

Pairing: Dazai Osamu/Nakahara Chuuya

Rating: PG13

A/N: This is a part of my Monochrome series (All I Want is also a part of it, just a series of ficlets) and I will update it on my AO3 so if you like it, you could go ahead and check out my account -> @serineglutamic

***

Dazai doesn’t turn his head at the sound of the tinkling bell signaling a new guest. The café is quiet, as Dazai hardly considers anything other than gunshot-filled atmosphere as noisy. He taps his fingers on the chipped table rhythmically, while his right hand is holding the same ratty book he’s been carrying around for years, his thumb stretched over the pages. He pretends to be lazily reading over the words, such brilliance, how does one put such beauty and poise on paper?!

A sleek figure slides smoothly into the seat across him, and immediately pulls the blinds down in a huff, earning a strange look from the lady that’s serving their table.

“Ah, it’s okay, he’s allergic to the sun,” Dazai waves cheerily to dispel suspicion from his waitress friend, who rolls her eyes, probably thinking anyone associated with Dazai is never normal. He chuckles at the faint smile of the old man making his coffee behind the island.

“Maybe you can stick to just the silly hat next time, Chuu-ya,” Dazai enunciates the u a tad too cheerily to the disgruntled male, who looks around briefly before stowing away his obnoxiously large sunglasses in the pocket of his dark, dark coat, and fixing Dazai a well-deserved glare. The waitress chooses this moment to serve them their fragrant coffee, each with a side of a small biscuit next to the cup, breaking Chuuya’s sharp gaze. While he turns to thank the waitress with a faux smile, Dazai studies his passive blue eyes, ever so hollow despite being the color of the moving sea. His cheeks seem gaunt, and his eye bags more prominent. Ah, when is he going to stop wearing the choker? It does funny things to Dazai, honestly.

“You weren’t going to tell me anything?” he starts without a warning, his eyes so viciously full of hatred, but his quivering lips and Dazai’s years of bond with him lets him read all the signs of hurt and sorrow buried in the pits of Chuuya’s pupils. He sighs and sips the bitter coffee.

“It’s not bad, you should give it a try. Maybe you can be a regular here,” Dazai cocks his head at the steaming cup, untouched, in front of the seething Chuuya.

“Yes, and be caught by either side, and slaughtered? Frankly speaking, maybe if I go quick, my life is going to be less of a hassle to deal with,” he sneers, and picks up the cup anyway. Dazai gives him a reassuring nod with innocent eyes, as Chuuya sniffs the drink, cautious of poison as usual. It’s how they were trained after all.

“No, I just thought it’d be a nice and safe place to meet my Chuuya, and it’ll be even better if you like swinging by.”

“It’s nice but not that nice that I would risk my neck for.” By this time though, his shoulders have loosened up, and his posture a little more wound down, like a regular customer instead of a suspicious assassin figure.

“It’s absolutely safe here! Look at the almost non-existent customers! They probably get most of their income from us, now that I think about it,” Dazai lowers his voice to a whisper. Chuuya glances around, and it is indeed quite the obscure place to meet for a Port Mafia executive, and an ex-Port Mafia executive.

“True, th-wait that’s not why I’m here,” Chuuya’s lips are pursed in a thin line and his gaze hardens again. Dazai wishes his redhead isn’t so strung up all the time. It’ll make his pretty face wrinkle quickly.

“It was… a decision made in a spur of the moment. But I have thought about it for some time. You, of all people, know I have no love for them,” Dazai’s tone turns icy, because the thought of just his face disgusts him.

“You always made that clear to me, but why? Why now? Why not…” Chuuya trails off, and chooses to look away, through the blinds, at the bright daylight and the soundless footsteps on the pavement.

Why didn’t you tell me? was the unspoken words Chuuya didn’t need to voice out. Dazai understands. Of course he does. Cold, distant, and sadistic as he is, he’s aware of his relationship with Nakahara Chuuya, the other half of Soukoku… his other half.

But the passing of Odasaku, his friend, had been shattering, to his mind and heart. And he never felt anything like that, never not know what to do. So when Odasaku gave Dazai his parting message, it was like Dazai suddenly had a new purpose. He had to change his course. Even if it meant leaving Chuuya for a while…

“Sorry, Chuu-ya,” because that’s all Dazai can say, with a smile, hoping that his warmth could wipe the anger and hurt away from Chuuya’s features that Dazai misses. Hoping that Chuuya would understand.

They were never exclusive, or official, or anything beyond Soukoku. More than partners, less than a couple. The nights spent together couldn’t lie, nor the looks Chuuya gives Dazai, and the pulsing veins in Dazai’s body every time he makes contact with Chuuya’s skin. They never spoke about it, for fear that if it was ever thrown out there, solid as words, and existing as the fog, it would mean nothing good.

With a heart still in turmoil, Dazai had scribbled something about being gone for a while, and some random numbers on paper and stuck it to Chuuya’s pillow, because no one would dare touch the other’s bed. He escaped the Port Mafia, and fast forward to today, his partner has had enough wit about him to decode the numbers and communicate with Dazai.

“They were asking me where you went off to,” Chuuya drawls flatly. Dazai knew, suspected, those might have been part of why the other male looked exhausted and unfed.

“Thank you,” he says sincerely, knowing Chuuya didn’t give anything away, despite the hard time the Boss must have given him. Dazai could almost feel the stinging skin under his bandages at the thought. And then the seeping sadness and anger because Chuuya had to suffer for his actions… But he knows Chuuya is tough, and could hold his own, even against the Boss. Still, his blood boils.

“I didn’t even know where the heck you were, so it wasn’t like I could say anything,” Chuuya snipes, but Dazai knows he could have if he really tried.

“My precious Chuuya has lost weight,” Dazai chooses to change the topic.

“Who’s fault do you think that is? Some slacker up and left, so I had to do twice the normal work.”

“Not that I usually contribute that much anyway,” Dazai adds.

“Oh right, you don’t,” Chuuya smirks. The insolence is so endearing to see on Chuuya’s face.

“Anyway Chuuya, I just wanted to tell you one thing today-”

“Oh, just one?” Chuuya scoffs bitterly.

“One important thing. If you value your life, and… your wine collection, don’t ever activate Corruption now that I’m not there.” Dazai curses his own faltering, but he wouldn’t say what he truly wanted to say. If you value your life, and my sanity, my heart… if you activate Corruption without me, you could die…

Chuuya folds his arms across his chest, like a sulking child, so familiar and comforting that Dazai wants to reach across the table and brush his lips on the wrinkled forehead. This boy is the only reason Dazai could still see light in the dark organization.

“Or what?” he sneers. “I could kill the entire Yokohama city, you know. Including your precious detective friends.” Is that a little jealousy?

“I’ll snatch your wine collection, I know where you hide them, and juggle the bottles. You know how I am with juggling,” Dazai grins, passes everything off nonchalantly.

“Monster,” Chuuya narrows his eyes at the chuckling Dazai.

“I think it’s time you go back home, someone’s probably looking for you,” Dazai reminds him. Chuuya glances at the time on his phone, and grumbles.

“Thanks for nothing, bandage-head,” he gets up to leave. But no, Dazai really missed him terribly. Before he could think twice, he gets up too, leaving some money on the table. Chuuya throws him a flat look, his default angry expression.

“Ah, Chuuya, actually put your glasses on, and let’s go run my errand,” Dazai announces, pushing the male forward by his shoulders.

“W-wh-what?!” his eyes are wild, and fumbles nervously for his glasses.

“We’re going to the convenience store. My colleagues have sent me on an errand.”

“And if we’re seen?!” Chuuya whispers shrilly. Is that even possible? It is with Chuuya.

“I’m sure you can take them out,” Dazai’s eyes glints unmercifully. Chuuya can only go along with a resigning sigh.

“You’re a sadistic monster.”

“Chuuya does understand me best,” Dazai claps his hands.

The strange pair heads down the street, not touching save for their coats, in the chilly wind, and the playful looks Dazai tortures Chuuya with. How he wishes everything is as easy as this, as easy as loving Nakahara Chuuya…

[storylocke]

Connections 5

[Despite being asked to sit with him, Devin stared up at the professor from the bench as he hadn't come to join him yet. Kukui stood at the edge of the square pavement and silently gazed over the now empty garden as the stars reflected softly in the water. As much as Devin wanted to ask what he was doing, he fought to keep quiet and patient until Kukui was ready.]

Kukui:

[He hasn't turned to face Devin yet.] Alola sure is beautiful, don't you think? It wasn't always like this, you know.

Devin:

Huh? [As patient as he’d been, he was still surprised to finally get a response. Starts swinging his legs as he calls over.] Was it like Kanto? Father once told me how they’ve been pouring in lots of money on renovations so we can have real wildlife again instead of all those fences and empty pathways.

Kukui:

I didn't mean physically. [turns to him with a somewhat forced smile, his arms crossed over his chest as he walks over.] Growing up in Kanto, I don't suppose you even batted an eye at all this Chosen business. But here in Alola… Well, it's just unheard of, yeah? The Voices only show up when there's serious trouble brewing, but I’m sure you’ve heard time and time again how peaceful Alola is. That's only partially true. The Aether Foundation said they decided to come here because of the Ultra Wormholes that are spotted from time to time. Not to mention, your next trial will show you just how frightening the Tapu can be. But the Voices… the power They wield goes far above and beyond either Beast or Guardian from what I’ve seen.

Devin:

[Hums softly to himself as he listens to chatter. His tone comes with a bit of skepticism.] I’ve heard lots of stories, but They don't really seem to do anything besides boss me around. Unless you count helping me find such an awesome team, because Rotom says some of these guys aren't native to Alola. It's like Voice Magic! I bet Aether’s getting mad though.

Kukui:

[He’s noticed that too, but with everything else he’s been learning lately, he was half tempted to assume Team Skull had been responsible for stealing from tourists and letting the illegal Pokémon loose. Devin had a point though, there certainly were a lot of invaders lately to have any solid explanation.] That’s still at the better end of things. What worries me is if you haven't noticed it yet, you’ll probably find out later.

Devin:

Ehhhhh… probably. But we were gonna talk about Hau. I guess that’s why you brought up the Voices though. If he was a Host, then he’d know about the Voices and stuff too, right? [fidgets slightly] I guess it's a big secret and all, but I wish he told me about that or being from Kanto or any of this stuff; we’d have so much more to talk about.

Kukui:

[Indeed those two had a lot more in common than Devin could imagine, and that's what makes it so hard to tell him. Sighs and moves over to finally take his seat next to Devin.] That’s because Hau doesn't remember. Any of it.

Devin:

[somewhat amused as he adjusts in his seat so he can look up at Kukui from the new angle] Hau can be a bit of an airhead sometimes, but I don't know how you could forget something like that.

Kukui:

Then let me start at the beginning. You know that Iki Town is considered sacred, right? Being so close to the ruins, and holding ceremonies for Tapu Koko, you can see why. Tapu Koko is a fickle guardian, but it’s not entirely against outsiders moving in, just cautious. The house you live in now has long served as something of a transitional space where people can settle into town and let Tapu Koko see that they understand and respect it’s territory.

Devin:

I didn’t know that.

Kukui:

Not much need to explain since you seemed to be accepted within hours after arriving. It told us all you were something special. That stone you got is a sign of greatness, a gift from the Tapu as a mark of leadership. Hau received one too, but his was… strange. See, Hala is Hau’s grandfather, no lie there as far as I know. But his son spent most of his adult life traveling the world. [He pauses a moment as he hesitates to voice his own opinions on the matter, as it wasn’t really any of his business.] Of course, I only returned to Alola in the past year or so, so I don’t know when… or why the letters stopped coming. All I do know is when your mom brought Hau to Alola, they came alone with the hope that Hala could help raise the kid. Now old Hala is smart and about as protective and temperamental as any Tapu, so even with the lack of information on these two, I was confident he knew what he was doing. But, like I said, we still have a way of doing things around here. Your mom was good to respect that, so before they were to move into town, she took up residence where you live now.

Devin:

[The way he keeps saying “your mom” while referring to Hau both left him a little confused and uneasy with the implications. Has to interrupt] But… I was told that I was supposed to um… replace the son she lost. If Hau’s still alive, living just up the street from us, what does she need me for?

Kukui:

[Nods a bit somberly as it was really weird even for an adult to understand. The terms Devin uses make him want to cringe though as “replace” just felt wrong. Still, it wasn’t his place to judge when he only had the bare basics of information.] That’s between you, your mom, and your parents. There’s more than one reason to need someone, just as there’s more than one way to lose them. Hau was a lot different back then yeah? It’s so weird to say that when it was just last year, but it’s true. He used to go by Quips back then, some kind of nickname between he and his friends for that snarky attitude of his. He was smart too though, real book smart. [smiles more at the memory than anything] What ten year old throws latin into casual conversation? I had him helping me out at the lab after he got his Rowlet so he could be ready for his Island Challenge soon as his birthday rolled around. [a soft sigh] Hala said the boy had been all over the place that morning, and Quips was just as high energy and excitement then as he is now, so we all thought his strange behavior was just from the timing. Unable to contain himself from nerves and too much on his mind due to preparing to leave home, yeah? That’s normal for Alolan kids. And as I told you, the thought of a Host showing up in Alola was just unheard of. I don’t know what drove him to the ruins… but it was late.

Devin:

[Tenses up as they’ve finally arrived to the story he was familiar with.]

Kukui:

We’d been down at the beach all day so his mom could get the house ready for the party. It was after dark by the time I managed to herd him towards Iki Town, so we could fetch old Hala. We didn’t know he was on his way to fetch us, so obviously he wasn’t home. We split up to ask around. Maybe Quips thought Hala had gone to speak with Tapu Koko? The way he’d been talking that day, he seemed scared that the Tapu wouldn’t accept him. I tried to tell him it didn’t work that way, but who knows what the Voices had been feeding into his brain. About the time Hala showed up, realizing the miscommunication, we didn’t even know anything was wrong until we heard Tapu Koko’s cry. I thought for a moment Hala’s heart was going to stop right there, but we managed to rush up Mahalo Trail faster than I thought the old man was capable of. By the time we got there, all we saw was the empty, swinging bridge in the moonlight. His Rowlet fluttering to us in total distress. Next thing we know Tapu Koko appeared with Quips in its’ arms and laid the unconscious kid at Hala’s feet. Tapu Koko left that stone at his side before it flew away. Hala could only take that to mean everything was going to be alright, and thanked him.

Devin:

Huh… [not what he was expecting, he thought the kid might have actually died. At least according to all other reports he’d heard. He fidgets a little as he’s a feeling that, by Kukui’s tone, that wasn’t the end of it.] But, he wasn’t alright, was he?

Kukui:

[Just staring at the pavement as he softly shakes his head] He wasn’t wet or anything, never made it to the water, but he was still… gone. When he first woke up, he wouldn’t respond to anything. When we took him to the hospital, they said there was no signs of anything being damaged, nothing they could treat, he was just… blank. Doctor did think that since he was proving functional, maybe being around some familiar things would spark something in his mind. Unfortunately, since they had only moved recently, Quips wasn’t all that familiar with the area. Your mom was relying on photo albums and stuffed animals, and… I don’t think it made much impact. That’s when she decided to head back to Kanto to try track down his dad. Hala’s been taking care of the boy ever since.

Devin:

Yeah, when she came by our house, she was wondering if anyone in our family had heard from him. Said it was really important she find him, but when Mother asked why, I thought she said Quips had died.

Kukui:

[Honestly a bit disgruntled to admit it.] Yeah, unfortunately, that’s where Faba was right. Once we started to piece everything together, him being a Host became pretty obvious. Mysterious circumstances in moving to a new region, hyperactivity and a short attention span, a growing obsession with a single item that most people don’t think twice about, curiosity to the point he doesn’t think before going through someone else’s stuff, the list goes on. His Pokemon even had a weird name I couldn’t pronounce properly, but he liked to just call it Bexman for the rest of us to understand. All of that went away after his “accident” though, and since there was no known explanation for his sudden memory loss, Burnet and I thought to start looking into the supernatural. And knowing why the Hosts are chosen in the first place, that’s when we knew we had to keep him a secret. If Alola was heading for a disaster, we didn’t need any crime syndicate or crazed beast hunter to know they had the green light when we’d lost our only hope.

Devin:

[Scrunches up his nose in confusion as he goes over the list.] But Hau still does all that. Are you sure he’s not a Host?

Kukui:

I’ve noticed. Believe me, Hala wouldn’t have let Hau leave town if he wasn’t ready. I’d been asked to keep an eye on you two throughout your challenge, and from what I’ve seen, he’s been making a rapid recovery. [subtly clears his throat] Which is why it must be hard for you to understand things ever being any different. Key word being recovery though. I’m sure you’ve also noticed that even if “Quips” has been leaking through into Hau’s personality, it still hasn’t affected his memory. He didn’t recognize your mom when you both showed up, didn’t recognize the lab even after all our time there, he even tends to say stuff like he used to, and then just drops it like he didn’t know why he even said it.  Much as we tried to help him, there was no real spark until about three months ago. Not until Lillie showed up and we heard Hau’s mom was returning with some new company. [He pauses to let that sink in a moment as Devin seems too confused to forge a comment to that.] At that point, Burnet was able to conclude for sure that Hau must have been a Lost Host.

Devin:

With… me? So if I’m the new Host, what’s a Lost Host?

Kukui:

That’s what Burnet calls them, yeah? I don’t know where she got the term, but they’re children chosen by the Voices only to meet some untimely fate. It’s not that they died, well… we think some have, but records of these kids is kind of skewed. The world doesn’t seem to recognize their existence, and Burnet only learned about them while she was trapped in the Interdream Zone.

Devin:

… Trapped in the…  what? [Okay he wanted to get information, but there’s a lot more here than he was anticipating.]

Kukui:

[holds up a hand to stop him from pressing any further] Whole other story. The point is, these children only serve as a temporary Host; like you, but the Voices don’t hang around to see them on their journey. When the Voices leave, these Hosts seem to be erased from existence. There’s only two cases we know of, but she knows there are plenty of others as they showed up as anomalies on the Radar. Sounds like a cruel trick of the Voices, yeah? But… thanks to studying Hau, Burnet thinks she knows what causes this now.

Devin:

[actually makes the little air quotes, mildly cringing as he’s really taking a wild guess at this point.] An “accident”?

Kukui:

[Nods somberly] We’re not sure why, but something causes Them to suddenly lose control. Not over the Host, but of whatever keeps Them anchored to our world. The sudden disruption causes Them to retreat back into Their own dimension like a wounded beast, but because it happened so abruptly, They take the Host with Them. We can hope that these Lost Hosts still exist somehow. Maybe even they just get dropped off somewhere....

Devin:

[Places a hand over his face as he’s trying to process all this] So... wait. Is Lillie a Lost Host too?! Professor Burnet told me you two found her and Nebby on a beach somewhere.

Kukui:

[As he can see how the boy is struggling with all this, perhaps it’d be better to take this a little slower. Pats Devin on the back.] Nah, she’s fine. It’s just… Well that’s a long story too. The thing with Hau though, we’re not sure if it’s because of how he was supposed to die, or if the Voices’ gateway comes in from above and he was literally falling when They got pulled from him; but we think instead of taking him with Them, they simply took him with Them. His memories, his history, the core of his being, it got ripped out of him when They left. Now that I know you’re a Host, it… it doesn’t make sense, but it seems possible that being around you has allowed him to pick up what They stole that day. But you can see why I wouldn’t want to tell you this, yeah? If it’s happening naturally, that’s great! But if you were to try to force it, thinking it would help, it might cause some serious damage. And worse, we don’t know how he’ll react if he ever realizes what happened to him. No offense, you’ve been handling your own case exceptionally well, but being a Host is not something to wish on anyone. If he can still lead a normal life after all this, I want him to have that. You can’t tell him anything-

Devin:

But-!

Kukui:

[Holds up hand to cut him off again] No buts. Trust me, I don’t like being the adult here, but I promised to keep him safe. I don’t know what the Voices have in store for you, but I can’t have Hau getting dragged into it. He may still have some lingering effects from being a Host, but I’m sure he doesn’t share in your immunities. We can’t let him know what he’s capable of until we know for sure he’s safe.

Devin:

[Bit of a sour pout at him] How can he keep himself safe if he doesn’t know what he’s capable of? I think he knows something’s up. He keeps holding himself back because he’s scared. And if people like Guzma are already looking for him, what are we supposed to do?

Kukui:

I guess you’re right. Maybe I should just take him on back home.

Devin:

No, because then anyone watching us would know something’s up. Including Hau. Maybe… [He looks down at his hands as he gently folds his fingers together. He’s really not sure this sounds like a good idea or not, but might as well ask.] Maybe it’d be better if we just keep going. Team Skull won’t find us if we stay on the move, and if he stays with me, you know I can protect him. I said I would. I’ll protect him from anyone. You said so yourself, he seems to be better when he’s with me! I promise I won’t tell him any of this, but you know he needs this as much as I do.

Kukui:

….. [takes in a deep breath as he wants to argue this] … Now you’re thinking like Nigel.

Devin:

[Bit of a mischievous grin as he can see he’s winning.] Is that a bad thing?

Kukui:

[Honestly hesitates a moment but he seems to be easing up in his tensions as well. Soft smile as he looks down at the kid. Tiny punk.] No, I guess not. I just hope you know, you’re taking on a world of responsibility.

Devin:

[In a mock serious manner, probably heard it from his dad] It comes with the job description.

Kukui:

[amused] Right. [Well, as much as he didn’t want to admit it, Hau had been doing remarkably well since they’d left Melemele Island. A small part of him wants to argue that Hau would have struck out on his own eventually. They simply couldn’t contain him even if they wanted to.] Hau’s really got that drive, doesn’t he? Fine. I’m entrusting you to take care of him. I’ve got some things to finish up on Mt. Lanakila, so you’re going to be on your own for a while. I better not hear of you two getting into trouble.

Devin:

If you do, I didn’t do it.

Kukui:

Good. [grins] So then, Mr. Ringleader, you plan to stay here until Hau gets back?

Devin:

Yes, sir!

Kukui:

So where’d we lose Lillie?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Devin, you're going to regret this~! But seriously, as much as the kid WANTS to make everything okay, we know what's coming up like... two cutscenes from now. Still, it's going to be a while, and we get to have some fun, and finally learn some things.

Hau, I've noticed really does seem to have painted a target on his back. If our badguys are looking for the same signs we normally do...

Being from another region? Check. Hau at least admits his dad is somewhere in Kanto while also constantly acting like everything in Alola is new/s to him.

Hyperactive activities? Check, he seriously never stands still even when talking. Except when he's in battle, he almost looks odd standing all serious on the other side of the field.

Obsession with a bag item that really only works in situations and takes a high enough priority it's one of his defining traits? Check. Although we talked about using the Malasadas ourselves during the E4 attempts. Not to mention, Hau seems like he might have some issues shopping like any TPP host since he gives us items almost randomly, and sometimes in multiples probably from his overstock |D;;

It's not that he has a bad team, he's just got some poor battle skills. TryHau was a meme in both Sun and Waning Moon, I think, but I think it's kind of hilarious that he honestly seems to find some humor in losing constantly. As we keep detailed records of all of ours. XD

Devin being the overachiever that he is, it's no wonder here that none of our villains have taken note of who the real threat is since they've been trying to keep track of the "Host" |D;;