#exilewrites

Dazai somehow getting ahold of this weird Chuuya doll and starting to poke around it. He notices Chuuya getting red from across the room.

He realizes that everything and everywhere he touches on the doll is connected to Chuuya.

Anon.

Anon what the fuck.

You want me to write this?

WHY??????

I refuse.

I absolutely REFUSE to write something that freaky.

Dazai had picked up the doll at some creepy shop downtown.

Impulse purchase.

Besides, no one could really blame him. It was cheap, had a little keychain ring, and looked EXACTLY like Chibi!

So when he saw it in the window, he obviously went to buy it.

The shop keeper said some warning about not hurting the doll, or the ones you trust will be hurt, and blah, blah, blah, Dazai tuned her out and purchased the doll for like 500 yen.

And it was quite fun to play with.

Spinning it around over and over and over again on the key ring, tossing it up and down and up and down, even stabbing it with a fork a few times.

Or occasionally leaving it at the agency in random places, purely by accident, one time in the fridge, another time next to the heater, another time on that wet section of his desk where he always leaves his water bottle and it never seems to dry.

Eh, it wasn't like this doll was actually Chibi or anything.

No harm in having a bit of fun!

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- ---- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Chuuya was having a shit week.

No. Worse than a shit week.

It was going fine, great even, on Monday!

Then on Tuesday he started getting the worse vertigo and nausea, as if on some roller coaster ride that never ended, feeling like he was going up and down or being swung around like a rag doll.

He'd thrown upa few times too, and had actually forced placed on sick leave by Mori, who didn't want his best executive sick suffering from some disease or illness no one knew how to identify.

The worst parts were Thursday, Friday and Saturday though.

Thursday, no matter how many blankets he piled onto himself, his breath misted, his lips turning blue from the cold, fingers and toes going numb.

It didn't matter how much he cranked the heat, or how warm he should be feeling.

All he could feel was bitter, numbing cold.

Then came Friday morning and he felt as if something warm was curling around him, like some giant hand that was his saving grace.

It was perfect for a few hours.

No spinning, no tossing, no awful cold. Chuuya wanted to cry from relief. He did, actually.

Tossed off the heavy winter clothes and let himself be for just a few hours.

And then the heat got worse. And worse. And worse.

And suddenly he wasn't wearing anything as lay down in an ice bath, praying to whatever being was torturing him that this would just stop.

Fans were plugged into nearly every outlet of the bathroom.

The water was running at 40 degrees farenheight.

He'd used his ability to pour three entire bags of ice into the water.

And yet, there was no relief. None. The heat continued through the night as Chuuya tossed and turned on a bare mattress, unwilling to wear any more potential warmth, unable to sleep, sweat pouring off of his body, face turning red.

Then, once more, on Saturday morning, the heat stopped as he felt something cooler curling around him, and he wept from relief once again, praying that this absolute torture would be over.

And yet again, once night came, the torture came again.

This time, it wasn't hot or cold.

It was wet.

No matter how much he scrubbed himself dry, he always felt... wet. Damp.

His body was raw from doing so by midnight, but the sensation of a thin layer of water nearly everywhere on his skin was driving him mad.

-- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- -- ---- -- -- -- -- -- -- --

Dazai discovered the result of playing with his doll, once again, by accident.

He was clutching the doll tightly in his fist, as he'd begun doing to relieve a small amount of stress, at some random meeting between the ADA and Port Mafia, which had become a normal occurrence during this truce.

And then he noticed Chuuya.

Chuuya, who was slowly going blue in the face the more and more Dazai squeezed the doll, as if he couldn't breathe.

Chuuya, who, the moment Dazai released the doll from his grip, seemed to be able to clearly breathe again.

Chuuya, who, when Dazai began spinning the doll by the keyring, clutched his head and groaned softly, as if getting a headache and biting the corner of his lip in the telltale sign that Dazai knew from working years with the Chibi meant Chuuya was getting nauseous.

Chuuya, who, the moment he saw the doll in Dazai's hand, saw the brunette squeeze it and not being able to breathe, who knew in no logical universe was that a coincidence, saw fucking red.

Eh? EHHH??? Not what you were expecting??? Well, Chuuya is my FAVORITE character to torture, and YEAHHHH, this could get freaky. But also... I don't want it to be. <3

Poe is a vampire. Not Bram-related, no, he just has literal vampirism.

Ranpo (+ the perfect crime guy, + the Guild, and/or maybe + the rest of the ADA) figure this out in the funniest way possible.

Word Counter: ~700 words.

Poe was a vampire.

Not one of those in the cinema, God knows how much he hated Twilight, but a true, actual vampire.

He burnt in the sun, required blood to survive, could turn into a black cat (and a bat, but he truly preferred to be a cat), and would die if he was near silver.

Crosses, he could handle. Thankfully. And most of the blood he drank could be substituted via animal blood or donated blood (even though it tasted starchy and cold when he knew it was supposed to be warm).

Of course, no one else knew.

God knows what would happen if they did. The Guild, well... that wouldn't be too much of a problem, given how Lovecraft was... something, and everyone else seemed to simply figure out ways to ignore the creature's otherness. So they would more than likely simply find ways to work around his inhumanity as well.

Though he would rather not risk it.

It was more his dearest Ranpo he was worried about.

Ranpo's blood sang to him, as if begging to be drank, and Poe just knew it would taste like the sweetest wine man had ever known if he sank his fangs into his dear Ranpo's neck and simply drank. (Perhaps it was because of all the sweets Ranpo constantly ate.)

But of course, he knew better. And if he ever saw Ranpo with those intentions, Poe has no doubt the younger detective would know the instant the older of them walked into the room.

The way Ranpo truly found out about Poe's... condition was positively stupid, if Poe did say so himself.

Apparently, those retched Twilight movies, all 4, had been dubbed over in Japanese. And were being shown back to back in theatres. And Ranpo wished to see them because... well, Ranpo didn't truly know why, but didn't question it. One could simply wish to see a movie with their dearest rival without having ulterior motives. And of course, Mushitaro (or as Fitzgerald called him, Kilimanjaro) got dragged along as well, for some reason or another.

Poe payed for everything, of course. It was only just. He had the most money out of all three of them, and so it was only fair that he payed for his own torment, he supposed.

The first movie was agony. The second was torture. The third was practically a war crime. Poe practically dissociated with the fourth. They were all so... inaccurate. And bad. And just plain awful.

Poe would have rather step into the sun without a parasol than watch those... monstrosities, again.

And so, reasonably, after nearly 8 entire damn hours of watching those godforsaken movies, he was at his wit's end. So when Ranpo asked him what he thought of the movies, he had perhaps... snapped.

"They're awful! They're so awfully inaccurate its nearly offensive! Everyone knows vampires burn in the sun! Hell, if I could go in the sun and just sparkle instead of what, burning alive, I would be at the beach every day of my life! And God above, what is with all of them having super strength?! My bones would have broken if I attempted anything of the sort! Where are the transformations?! The actual lore?! Vampires are practically infertile, everyone knows that! We reproduce via bloodborne contact, not through whatever happened in that 4th piece of-"

Poe stopped himself, realizing Musitaro was staring at him in both confusion and... probably annoyance, while Ranpo himself looked vindicated.

Without missing a beat, the young detective turned to Mushitaro. "I told you he was a vampire! See! My Ultra-Deduction is never wrong!"

Mushitaro scowled. "Did you actually expect me to believe you at first? You burst into my apartment and begin claiming that Poe is a vampire, despite Poe getting squeamish at the sight of blood. You sounded insane."

"And you doubted me. And you were proven wrong. Obviously."

"You truly are both so damn insufferable."

Poe blinked. "You... knew?"

Ranpo grinned. "Obviously! You're really obvious, you know? Now those movies were awful. I need at least... 2 bags of candy to make up for it."

of course!

Word Count: IDK, I’ll count later

The mission, in theory, was simple. Head to Kyoto, confront some ability user group, take care of everything, let the government handle it, done.

Of course, with Soukoku, let alone Shin Soukoku, things were never so simple.

The trains were closed since it was a public holiday, and there went any direct plane rides.

So 5 hour trip by car it was.

And well, Atsushi hadn’t expected it to go well, he wasn’t expecting it to go this bad.

Dazai had called shotgun, which meant everyone had to suffer through whatever awful music he put on and blasted at full volume.

Chūya was driving, which actually wasnt that bad, since most of the drive was just highway and open road, though the fact the car was going at nearly 200 kilometers per hour when Dazai would play another stupid song was… very terrifying, to say the least.

At least Akutagawa seemed to be more focused on not being car sick instead of bickering with Atsushi, though that was only so great, given how Atsushi was in the exact same boat, trying to not throw up, which, between Dazai’s loud, annoying songs, and Chūya’s driving, was getting exponentially harder.

Ryūnosuke looked like we wanted to start something as Atsushi dug his claws into Ryūnosuke’s arm, which, fair enough, that couldnt be felt pleasant, and Atsushi was about to respond with a half defense, half apology, the words on the tip of his tongue as another argument was this close to breaking out between the two young men.

Then Chūya swerved again into another lane as Dazai, once more, cranked the music up, and all that bickering went out the window.

Ryūnosuke used Rashōmon to stabilize both of them, bracing the tendrils of the cloak against the windows and wrapping it both around both himself and Atsushi.

“I would rather you not vomit in the back seat, man-tiger.” Ryūnosuke somehow gritted out through clenched teeth. “Do not take this as a sign that I have suddenly became amicable with you.”

“I wasn't even going to say anything!”

“Sure you weren’t.” Ryūnosuke said, eyes rolling, and Atsushi was almost amazed at how the older of the two seemed not to be sick to his stomach from the motion. “All you do is speak nonsense, so it is only logical to assume you would say something so nonsensical.”

Atsushi groaned, partially out of annoyance, partially out of feeling absolutely sick. Rashōmon helped quite a bit, though Dazai and Chūya’s near constant bickering wasn’t in any way calming Atsushi or Ryūnosuke down.

“Can we keep arguing after we get to our destination? Doing this now seems counterproductive…”

“For once, something logical coming out of your mouth, man-tiger.”

By now, the yelling in the front row had reached its peak, Chūya flooring it and yelling, while Dazai continued to provoke him for seemingly no reason. While Atsushi respected his mentor, this was absolutely ridiculous. What reason did Dazai have for doing this besides making them all suffer?

Atsushi, hesitantly, leaned his head forward slightly, checking the GPS, and internally, he felt a bit of himself die.

3 hours left.

3. Hours.

“Akutagawa.”

“What.”

“Do you know how to drive?”

“Obviously, what kind of member of the port mafia would I be if I-“

“How long would it take you to convince Chūya to pull over and let you drive?”

Ryūnosuke paused, remaining silent for a moment, as if contemplating.

“I literally cannot take any more of this. We need to get Chūya-san and Dazai-san in the back seat before they crash the car and kill us all.”

“You make a good point.” The mafioso conceded, steadying himself before addressing the executive. “Chūya-san. You’ve been driving for a few hours now. I can take over for now, if you wish.”

“Hah?!” Chūya paused in his yelling at Dazai to look in the rear view mirror. “Yeah, well, I suppose we can switch. You two want lunch? We’ve been in here since before breakfast.”

Both members of Shin Soukoku nodded, eager for the car to just stop.

Chūya pulled off the highway, using his phone to route to the nearest place, some small town with a decent restaurant and a bathroom.

The moment the car stopped, Dazai kicked open the door, stretching his legs, complaining about how annoying being stuck in the car with a damn Chihuahua was, and Chūya, once more, began to yell at him as he slammed the car door shut.

The moment the older two were out, both Atsushi and Ryūnosuke looked at each other.

“We are never letting Chūya drive with Dazai in the front seat ever again.” Atsushi muttered, finally slumping against the seats of the car as Rashōmon’s tendrils slinked back into Ryūnosuke’s coat.

That really was the only explanation for Sebastian.

Yeah, she'd barely been in the valley a year, and yes, everyone was dumping requests for stuff on her, asking that she do things and expecting her to just say yes because that's what she did, she always helped out, but still.

He'd given her the benefit of the doubt at first.

She woke up early, but she had those chickens Marine gave her, and constantly had farm chores, even if it was winter.

And then it was suddenly 3pm and he'd seen her running around in the square, fishing, heading to the museum to drop off even more stuff that she always seemed to find, then heading to back to the farm.

And then it was 8pm and he saw her frantically running into the mines while he was out for a smoke break.

Didn't even say hello.

Which, well, that hurt.

Before this, she made a point to at least say hi to him every day. She gave him gifts twice a week, stuff he liked, usually quartz, so much he would have been able to have his mom make a damn statue out of it. Had he... done something?

Was she maybe upset with him?

They'd done that tabletop game just two days ago, and she'd laughed at some stupid joke he'd made then.

Besides waving hi, they hadn't interacted much between that and today... so maybe she was just in a bad mood?

Regardless, it absolutely sucked.

He'd seen her have his mom build a fish pond on her farm just yesterday. She'd been around. Just... hadn't even put in the effort to say happy birthday. Or give him a gift.

And then the next morning, when he'd gone out to take in the morning air, rare, he knows, he heard the homeless guy living behind the house mumbling about how he hoped the farmer he'd dragged home last night was okay. Something about her passing out.

Which was... decently worrying. Ariel? Passing out in the mines? That... didn't sound like her. Why was she even down there anyway? She fished so often, so money probably wasn't a problem, and she had other stuff to take care of than diving down there.

So why-?

Boots crunched in the snow behind him, someone panting from exertion. Ariel. He recognized that red hair anywhere. Only person in Pelican Town who had it.

Her face was red from running all the way here, and in her hand- oh. A frozen tear. She... hadn't given him one of those in... a while.

She signed quickly, almost frantic, though he couldn't catch all of it. Though he got the gist. She mixed up the dates, thought his birthday was Winter 11, not Winter 10, and she was sorry for missing his birthday and she feels bad and then she gave it to him.

It was... pretty big, actually.

Crystal blue, freezing to the touch, see through and... beautiful.

She continued signing with one hand, explaining how she’d finally seen it in the mines past midnight, then been practically ambushed by dust sprites and ghosts while down there, and barely made it back to a floor with an elevator before passing out, and learned the next morning that Linus made sure she got home safe.

And obviously he was happy she was okay. Besides a few yellowing bruises and wounds that were wrapped under bandages, she seems mostly fine. Though even then, she seemed more upset with herself for forgetting his birthday than nearly dying for one of these stupid little crystals he liked.

But… she’d done this. For him. Gotten him something he loved at the expense of herself.