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[heartlcssboy]

Michael Bassey Johnson, Song of a Nature Lover

[heartlcssboy]

Peter didn't move from his spot pressed to the makeshift wall beside the entrance of her room. He did, however, turn his head to peak at the leaf-doorway when it shifted. His heart soared, sure that all was forgiven and things would be just as they were before the small folk had decided to be mad at him. When Tink didn't fully emerge and started in on him instead, that hope sank and he frowned. He had only wanted to have a happy reunion with her where he could fill Tink in on all the things she'd been absent for and delight in the feeling of ease her company usually afforded him. Around her the awful sensation of fire ants constantly writhing beneath the surface of his skin never seemed to bother him the same way it did when she wasn't near. But of course that had been foolish of him to expect.

Weeks? No! Had it truly been that long? Surely not. He would have noticed. But then an awful lot had been happening recently....His vision blurred, falling out of focus, and his body — the very air around them — turned icy cold as he fought to figure out if she was telling the truth. He was terrified that she was, but she could just as easily be lying for the sake of dramatic affect; trying to make him feel sorry for her. Ultimately, he couldn't be sure how long it'd been since he'd last seen Tink. What a horror to have gone so long without her and to not even have noticed it but a handful of times — and even then he'd been unbothered enough to still not go looking for her!

Had Peter been that preoccupied? He'd been about to plead with her, had opened his mouth to offer up — well, not quite an apology, but something close to it perhaps — when Tink's words caught up to him. He stopped short, closing his mouth and rolling his eyes. Wendy? Really?!

"She has a name, Tink." Peter groaned impatiently, his head lolling backward to thunk against the wood he was leaning against. He knew it wasn't going to help him get back into the fae's good graces, but felt it needed to be said all the same. Was it really Wendy she was so worked up over? How she hadn't come to accept that Wendy's presence wasn't something that was going to be changing and found a way to accept it by now was baffling to him. Why should that be cause for their prolonged separation from one another?

"And I don't see what she has anything to do with the way you've been behaving! She's done nothing to you, has she?" He heaved a heavy sigh and pushed himself off the side of the smoothed wood, shifting his stance so that he was standing directly in front of her doorway now. He probably should have been more concerned about waking the Lost Boys or even Wendy herself with the volume of their spat, but Peter couldn't be bothered with such situational thinking as he all but demanded her to forgive him, "Tink, please!"

Wait a moment! This wasn't his fault at all! "No one told you to hide from me." Peter pointed out in an incredulous, bordering accusatory tone, "That was your choice! You're the one who decided to stay away. If I had gone to look for you, you would've just told me to leave you alone! You know I'm right. You wanted to be upset and nothing I could've done would have changed it. Now can you just stop this already? I have so much to tell you!"

— tink knew that peter thought she was theatrical, a bit dramatic, over-the-top, and a sour puss. often had he accused her emotional outbursts of merely being silly tantrums or hissy fits and with a wave of his hand would dismiss her heavy-set pouts and tightly folded arms. the small fae was in no headspace to deal with being belittled right now, made to feel smaller than she already was, and stubbornly she folded her wings down and pressed them into her back; shielding it from any verbal knives that could come flying her way due to the fact she basically slammed the door in his face.

tink heard the demanding question and dismissed it, pressing the heels of her hands to her pointed ears to dry and drown out the sound of him doing precisely what peter was good at; deflecting blame upon anyone but himself. if tink really wanted, she could slither her way into his head, see what he was thinking. tink could weave together the floating bits of his conscience and create a cohesive tapestry complied of all the answers to all of her questions. yes, she could do that... yet all she wanted was for peter to KNOWINGLY feel guilt. to understand what it meant to be wrong without her having to TELL him he was wrong.

perhaps that was too tall an ask of the boy...

frowning, tinkerbell stood tall with her back to the entrance of her room, moving her arms to tightly wind across her small chest as angered breathes went in and out of her lungs in rapid succession. keeping her cool was not something the small folk was notorious for, her outbursts and bitch-fits a part of her character, yet in this moment, her lack of will to speak to peter overpowered her need to throw a tantrum and so she stood in silent protest.

however, if there was one thing tink was weak for... it was peter when he softened. though he was her peter at his most wicked and vile, he was simultaneously her peter at his most gentle...his most vulnerable. his words, carrying a sad lull to them, made her lower her guard just slightly. her shoulders fell from their position tucked up by her ears and her fingers beginning to slip from their tight hold on crossed forearms until the limbs were dangling like branches on the cusp of falling from an oak tree. the girl's eyes began to rim with deeply wounded tears, the salted moisture burning her irises and frustrating her as she rubbed viciously at scrunched lids to force them away. his words pierced her chest as her tight frown turned more into a sob-resisting pout. peter had hurt her, but even though he hadn't noticed her absence in the moment... he was reflecting on it now. isn't that what counted??

maybe, she was unsure.

her body resisting her mind, the fae carried her figure over to the barrier between herself and peter, shaky hands lifting to grab the leaf blocking her entranceway and peeling it back just enough so he was aware she was there, but not having the energy to fully come out and confront him, watery sapphires trained on the tips of her boot-clad toes.

❛ i didn't think you had noticed, ❜ the words came sailing on a quivering breath, chest tight as anger was replaced, temporarily, by a deep sadness that made tinkerbell's lungs feel like sandbags. ❛ i've been hiding from you for weeks, peter.... ❜ as the words fell from her lips, the anger swelled again, rising in her throat and tugging on her tongue, sadness and fury intertwining like a braided rope and twisting so tight the edges began to fray.

❛ with your favorite little plaything being back....i figured you didn't care i was gone, which would explain why you never came searching. i was right here the whole time, peter...and you still couldn't even be bothered to find me.❜

[heartlcssboy]

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

rufio looks perplexed, but it's impossible to hide his laughing smile.

Peter had heard the sounds of someone nearing, but had made no effort flee. It'd do no good for certain people to see him in his current blood-splattered state. However, he recognized the heavy footfalls as no threat to him and so he'd remained in plain sight, sitting atop a large rock at the base of the island's mountain range. Peter tucked away the dagger he'd been wiping clean, turning his head to look up at Rufio as he approached.

"It's not my fault all the best adventures involve a little bloodshed," He proclaimed cheerfully, offering up no explanation of where the blood had originated from. Such details were best left unspoken. Besides, Rufio was the newest to join the group. Peter wasn't sure exactly how loyal he'd shape up to be just yet.

He stood giving a shrug accompanied by a grin that was wide and unabashed. His eyes gleamed with mischief as he went on to say, "And why waste time on anything other than the best, right Rufio?"

[heartlcssboy]

❛ is this what you think love is? ❜

Peter's jaw tightened and the forest fell silent the moment that the question had been posed. Even the wind did not dare draw Peter's attention as a vehement rage overcame him. He looked through her instead of at her as the upset built. Had he asked too much of her? Of everyone he'd ever cared for? They were always clawing at him for more. When he had already given them EVERYTHING; more than they were willing to give him in return! More by leagues! They wanted to tell him all the ways he was deficient, but he wasn't the one incapable of feeling. They were; Wendy and Jamie both!

He was so sick of that word being thrown at him like an excuse. That horrible, horrible, meaningless word! Because, for them, that's exactly what it was! Meaningless! A false promise. Another thing corrupted by the influence of the Other Place. That's what it did. The Other Place took things and hollowed them out, turning them into a mockery of what they once were. Just look at their cities, nature gutted by industry for the sake of convenience. But nothing about Pan was made to be convenient no matter how badly others wanted to change that.

"And what do you think it is?" He demanded, too far incensed to worry about scaring her as he pressed in closer. Each word a step nearer. "No, really. Tell me, Wendy! I mean it! I want an answer! What is it! What's love?!" His volume of his voice continued to build as he went on until finally it reached its crescendo with: "Tell me!"

Peter could feel tendrils of his shadow pulsating at the edges of his psyche, pleading with him, soundless but clear inside his head. He could feel its panic, but it was overtaken by Peter's anger. It begged for him to cease his onslaught before he ruined everything. But Peter wouldn't stop. He couldn't. He wasn't finished! His body was shaking from the volatile medley of emotion wracking through it. Wendy had asked him a question and he never denied her anything. Now did he?

Peter had crowded her until her back was pressed against the trunk of a large tree. His voice was a growl now, words coming out in a hiss, "Because everyone is always trying to tell me what I can and can't feel or what I'm doing wrong as if they have any idea about what I'm capable of! I keep being told I'm the broken one when it's everyone else pretending. Everyone lies and acts like they know what love is, but then they run away as soon as it becomes too real. Because no one actually knows what they want! And they get scared because it's all too much! Because you don't want to feel things, not real things!"

Peter howled in frustration and his fist collided with the rough bark of the tree Wendy was trapped against, missing her head by inches and splitting open the skin of his knuckles. Crimson leaked from his hand as he pulled it back, stepping away and turning from Wendy. He shook his hand so that droplets of blood splattered across the forest's floor. It was pointless. No amount of blood would heal this wound. It'd been open and raw for long enough that he knew that with certainty.

When he turned back to face her, all of his anger had dissipated. That righteous rage had been all that had been holding him together and now even speaking was an exhaustive and painful effort. All he wanted to do was run to Wendy and cling to her frame for comfort, but he maintained their distance.

"I think I'm the only one in the whole world who knows what it really is to love someone...and no one else is alive enough to feel it." His voice was hardly a rasp, choked with the effort it took to speak the admission aloud, but otherwise calm. He hated to say it. To confront it. Because he meant it and it meant he'd always be left wanting. Forever.

And that absolutely terrified him.

[heartlcssboy]

Peter had been deep in a silent argument with his shadow when he'd first caught a glimmer of her in his peripheral vision. Arguments between himself and his shadow used to be so few and far between, but lately it seemed like it was suddenly against him just as the island was; as if even they were as unreachable as everyone else always had been. But not Tink. Relief washed over Peter at the sight of her. Parts of himself that he hadn't even known had been aching loosened, melted as they let go of tension he hadn't had a clue he'd been holding onto but now left him so sore.

His mood took a drastic upward tick as he called out to her, his tone jovial and pleased. But when her only response was to melodramatically dismiss him in favor of hiding in her room, he darkened worse than before. How dare she brush him aside like that?

"Where have you been?" Peter demanded, far more incredulous than he had any right to be, from where he sat. He knew full well that she could hear him perfectly. His face scrunched up in confusion as if he was only just realizing how drawn out her absence had been. When had he last seen her? His shadow began its insistent barrage of whispered scolding which only served to pull a low growl from Peter in warning. He was in no mood. His shadow knew better than to push and so it fell silent.

To his credit, Peter had gone searching for her, once, since Wendy's return to the island. However, he'd run across Thorn who had been less than helpful and annoyingly smug before Peter had been pulled from his quest altogether. He'd noted her disappearance a handful of times, but his thoughts had been so quickly redirected by others that he'd let her be to throw whatever tantrum she was throwing for far too long....How long had it been? How much excitement and upset had she missed out on? His heart clenched, fear stricken by the thought that there was anything, let alone so much, he'd experienced without her while she was too busy pouting.

'Fix it.' His shadow urged, the words pressed against his own thoughts with such urgency that it made it hard to think of anything else. At least now they were blessedly on the same page. Peter scrambled to the carved out hollow of her room, giving no mind to the sleeping bodies in his path. He called out her name again, softer this time, more drawn out in hopes of tempting her to cease her sulking and have mercy on him. It seemed a long shot, but he'd happily take her fury instead, so long as it meant she wasn't avoiding him anymore. He didn't even know where she'd been or why. He'd expected her to be cross with him about Wendy but if that was what she was upset about, surely she would have gotten over it by now? Right? There had to be something else...

He sighed, slumping against the wall of the tree that housed her room, pressing his back into the smoothed over wood, his head thudding back against it in exasperation. The words that came next were less accusatory and more sorrowful, "You missed everything, you know?" And she had. Now that he was really thinking on it, so much had happened that Tink had missed out on and he hated it. Unknowns had no business laying between them.

— the tree felt different lately. no longer did it carry that lull of comfort whenever tinkerbell entered like it had in years past, but instead, a sense of dread washed upon her whenever she returned to it. she did not want to risk the potential of hearing the shrill laughter coming from the wretched BEAST girl who had stolen the attention of the one thing tinkerbell loved away from her, it's high pitch piercing and ricocheting back and forth in the space between pointed cartilage. saying that wendy coming back HURT was an understatement. it felt like all the oxygen in the air had been stolen away and tink's lungs were left grasping onto whatever clusters of breath they could manage to find, starving her of what fueled the very life that dared to flicker within her.

heavy winged, heavy hearted, tink floated quietly back into the tree, hearing the sounds of slumber loud from the wide-opened mouths of little boys that echoed in the hollowed home's interior. across the room, tink spotted her little oasis, though now it felt more like a bird cage, and while she could leave freely to and from physically, mentally she felt trapped. peter wouldn't let her go if she wanted to, and though she didn't want to- not even slightly- she wished deeply things would go back to the way they were before everything happened.

before she happened.

tink had been avoiding peter for days now, maybe weeks. she had stopped keeping track when she noticed he wasn't coming to seek her out, staying cooped up in her small room or escaping the tree as often as she could. he was far too distracted with the return of his favorite plaything to even notice tink had been missing from events, or from his life in general. tinkerbell was not going to fight for his attention, not this time, as she stubbornly believed it was something she was ENTITLED to. after all she had done, all the secrets she had kept, all the nursing she had done when he was distressed in moments of painful silence when it was just the two of them... just her and the thoughts in peter's head that he couldn't understand- she deserved it. his attention was the smallest gift of gratitude he could showcase her and yet... her starved her of it. solemnly, the small folk sighed, pressing her weight forward as tired wings flittered exhaustedly behind her, carrying her pin-sized figure towards her cage room like a good, trained pet.

and like a good, trained pet... when she heard someone say name, she stopped in her tracks. tink's stomach dropped, as she'd know that voice anywhere, and her eyes screwed shut, tired features using whatever energy they had remaining to scrunch her little face up as tightly as they could. it was almost pathetic, the way just hearing him say her name for the first time in what felt like an eternity made her tiny heart pitter so quickly within the confines of her chest it almost ached. ignoring the temptation to humor peter's beckoning voice, tinkerbell released a stubborn and theatrical HMPH !! as she pushed her weight the rest of the way forward, throwing open the leaves that covered the entrance to her crate and letting them fall shut behind her.

@heartlcssboy

[heartlcssboy]

❛ it’s safer to be feared, than loved. ❜ — from MARLOWE

While Peter enjoyed speaking to the merfolk with more transparency than he was apt to offer most other inhabitants of the island, there were moments like this particular one that made him question whether or not it was such a good idea...

"You're right. It is." Peter nodded solemnly, wistful and dejected, "A lot safer."

Fear was so very easy to wield and held no real risks, at least not for someone like him, but it wasn't sustainable — or rather he wasn't capable of being sustained on it alone. The island craved the panic and dread and blood of its inhabitants but above all that, just as he did, it needed so much more to flourish. Fear without love was hollow and there was nothing that terrified him quite like the idea of a hollow existence.

He sighed, squinting up at the harsh light of the sun, "Safer, but boring. Fear is easy. Too easy. And maybe it's enough for you lot, but not for me."

@lowetyde

[heartlcssboy]

&. 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬.

(  we  love  angst  on  this  blog,  what  can  we  say.  here’s  some  more  dialogue  prompts  for  you.  a  warning  for  potentially  triggering  themes  below.  )

❛ everything you touch, you ruin. ❜

❛ the only one who gets to kill you, is me. ❜

❛ you can’t make me disappear. ❜

❛ memories are only there to make you bleed. ❜

❛ i don’t need your permission. ❜

❛ don’t shut me out like this. ❜

❛ the less you know, the better. ❜

❛ i won’t stop killing until you kill me. ❜

❛ why is it whenever we see each other, you’re covered in blood? ❜

❛ you think i felt something for you? you’ve forgotten what i am. ❜

❛ the last time we talked, didn’t you say you wanted to kill me? ❜

❛ i felt something loosen in me that shouldn’t have been loosened. ❜

❛ pull yourself together. we have work to do. ❜

❛ stay back, i have a demon inside of me. ❜

❛ let me get closer, i have a hell inside of me where your demon can live. ❜

❛ people like that don’t deserve to live. ❜

❛ just do what you’re told. like you always do. ❜

❛ why do you have to make everyone hate you? ❜

❛ it’s better that you don’t get involved. ❜

❛ i’d do anything to make you stay. ❜

❛ who cares if it bleeds. ❜

❛ is this what you think love is? ❜

❛ just breathe through it. it gets easier. ❜

❛ don’t pretend that you cared about me. ❜

❛ i’m starting to think you like wasting my time. ❜

❛ we wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for me. ❜

❛ i will never, ever, give you a moment’s peace. ❜

❛ the world doesn’t hate us. but it doesn’t love us either. ❜

❛ it hurts that you still can’t trust me after all this time. ❜

❛ a darkness with voices is better than a silent void. ❜

❛ it’s safer to be feared, than loved. ❜

❛ am i not good enough for you? ❜

❛ a burnt child loves the fire. ❜

❛ i’m tired of dying. ❜

❛ what if you hurt because it feels good? ❜

❛ don’t try to fix me, i’m not broken. ❜

❛ if you want me to die, you can just say so. ❜

❛ you don’t have to be afraid of who you are. ❜

❛ that line disappears once you cross it. ❜

❛ how can i believe you after all you’ve done? ❜

❛ i won’t let you forget about me. ❜

❛ the person you once knew me as, died. ❜

❛ are you going to leave me again? ❜

❛ i have nothing i could offer you. ❜

❛ no one is going to save you. no one can. ❜

❛ maybe you’re / i’m already dead. ❜ 

❛ you have blood on your hands. ❜

❛ what, can’t take a punch? ❜

❛ i’m your mind giving you someone to talk to. ❜

❛ you have to step out of this darkness and let them see you for who you are, like i have. ❜

[heartlcssboy]

wndybyrd​:

the tightness between her shoulders relented as a puff of air, one she hadn’t realized to be holding, flew free. a singular     “ oh … “     followed, wendy’s face hot with shame. quickly dropping the desperate grasp on his hands, her arms sagged to her sides heavily. while peter’s admission—his promise—should have been enough to ease the confounding stir of feelings that tore away at her mind, the girl’s face still glazed with puzzlement. after all this time, had wendy darling only grown into an ambling fool, to be so easily tricked, rather than the prudent young lady she’d believed herself ?   no. yes. had it been– ? it must ! after all, peter could never be so awful. the soft sincerity etched into his expression, carving out bits of vulnerability she’d never bared witness to before, was proof enough : he was so good. peter was the titular hero in all of her tales yet she’d dared doubt him. silly bird !

shaky breath was swallowed back down her throat, burying any leftover sorrows, while the back of her hand wiped away the remnants of angry tears glistening atop rosebud-cheeks. it took a momentary beat for articulation to find its way back to the poet, all eloquence lost. finally, when it did, wendy tenderly sighed :     “ i know. you’re wonderful, peter. the most wonderful boy that ever was. “    curls bounced as she nodded along to her own words, further assuring the sentiments ( or trying to convince herself of them ). wendy offered him a small, sweet simper that—aside from sky-blue irises swarming with a mix of hope and apprehension—was enough to wipe her face clean of its previous anguish.

further surrendering her pride, she conceded,     “ i’d forgotten how tricky neverland can be. “     just off the top of her head, wendy could list a number of those that would’ve delighted in her torment. still, it didn’t feel right. as logical as it sounded, goosebumps still tickled at her skin. besides, even if they were at fault, it would do wendy no good to forge further division between herself and the folk. wendy’s white knight couldn’t always act in her shadow, defending the darling’s fragile psyche from every impish strike. carrion would be better suited for the task of confronting their mysterious miscreant ( less likely to let egoism best her ), but there was no use in saying so. once that boy got something in his head, he was not easily persuaded.

“ but what if … “     she began, leaning in close as her voice lowered to a hush, soft as the passing breeze.     “ … it was something else ? something new. “     a game of cat and mouse ! what better way to distract her fearsome fighter, as well as herself. a story, too ( smothering any hurt caused by her cruel distrust ) like she had tailored for him in the old days.

“ mother once told me of a monster that hides beneath children’s beds, patiently waiting for them to fall asleep. then, it creeps into the dreams of those little boys and girls, eating up all their good thoughts ‘til there’s none left. “     eyes sparkled with each syllable that tumbled off her tongue; there was a frantic thrill that flooded the girl with each story she sewed. tall-tales came to her so naturally, far easier than any truth she’d ever told.     “ it bears many names : sleep-snatcher, shadowbeast, the scrungle. it must have followed me from the ‘other place’ to feast upon my love for you, and the lost boys will certainly be next ! it’s said to be truly horrifying but, surely, the great peter pan would not fear such a thing as ‘the scrungle’. he’d rip it to pieces ‘til all that remained was a mess of blood and bone … wouldn’t he ? “

wendy’s head snapped to the left, wide-eyes staring into the wooded distance.     “ did you hear that ? it could be watching us, listening, right now. “     life was so much better when it was make-believe. oh, how she loved to play pretend.

Peter held his breath as she let go, hands dropping away and the short span of distance between them once again felt like an unendurable chasm, but he didn't dare to reach back out for her, eyes darting across Wendy's face as he waited to see if she'd accept his fib about the small folk. In his defense, it was only a guess that his shadow had been the one to disrupt her slumber. For all he knew, it really could have been one of them instead! There weren't many on the island who would dare to risk incurring his wrath by playing such tricks on Wendy of all people — Tink, perhaps, but unlikely anyone else. Not that he doubted for even a second the conclusion he'd reached. He was fairly certain it had been his shadow and fairly certain to Peter was enough to make the shadow guilty even if one of the fae was actually to blame. Either way, he'd know for certain soon.

At her sigh, Peter allowed air to flow freely back into his lungs. It was enough. She wanted to believe it wasn't him and so she would. Which was fortunate since it truly wasn't, not really. Nevermind that his shadow was every bit a part of him; that they shared one mind. The only thing that separated them essentially was all the feelings and memories that were deemed too cumbersome and unbearable for Pan himself to hold onto; lessons learned that were too painful not to let slip away.

"I am. That's true. And the island can be wily," He agreed with a serious nod, "But it's not your fault." The second part sounded more dismissive of the event than added for the benefit of protecting her ego from being bruised. Although she was special to him and that meant that she had to be extraordinarily clever and capable, so in a way perhaps it was a bit about dulling the sting and protecting both of their egos...

"After all, you've only just come back and the tree is meant to be safe! You shouldn't have to be on guard while you sleep, so why would you have been? I'll see to it that the small folk don't go around bothering you anymore." He swore for a second time.

“Something other than the fae; something new? Like what?” Peter questioned, clearly a bit skeptical, but his curiosity had instantly been piqued and he hung onto her every word with rapt attention. Peter would never deny Wendy to ability to co-create in Neverland and he was ever a faithful listener. Even when he didn't like the stories she weaved — which was extremely rare and only ever happened when she was deliberately wielding them like daggers against him or letting them turn a touch too soft or sappy having forgot her audience — he still found himself ensnared the moment she began a tale.

“The scrungle, huh? I think I have heard of something like that...eating good thoughts while children are fast asleep...How gruesome!” Peter mused, giving the story further validity after deciding it sounded dreadful enough to be a proper adversary. Of course the irony of a dream-eater was entirely lost on him. All for the best really. “If it has followed you here, then we must get rid of it at once! Can’t have it sulking about in the shadows and preying on you or the Lost Boys!”

Peter had puffed out his chest for his show of heroic grandstanding, but stilled completely when Wendy’s head turned, just like a statue. He remained perfectly quiet as she spoke, eyes roving over the spot she’d turned her gaze toward. He wouldn’t dare to miss a step in their game. 

“Give me your hand,” He was careful to keep his voice at a whisper, his movements measured and slow so as not to draw attention, but his tone was insistent. This was important. He pressed the wooden wolf into her palm with a sense of urgency, “I’ve been working on it since you returned and now that it’s finally all finished, I think this is the perfect time to give it to you. If there’s to be a fearsome beast prowling the island, then you need something to protect you when I’m not with you!”

[heartlcssboy]

❝ What’s so funny? ❞ ❝ This. ❞ THE WHEEL OF TIME, 1x07 The Dark Along The Ways  

[heartlcssboy]

"You can go anywhere you want," Peter laughed, but not too loud, there was no use in attracting anyone else's attention. "How many times do I have to tell you that before you believe it?" That was the trick wasn't it, the thing everything else hinged on, belief.

"Come see if you want, none of the Lost Boys will give you any trouble." And they wouldn't. Peter felt he knew that for certain. Lost Boys who questioned Peter's whims instead of going along with them tended to find their stay on the island cut abruptly short or made so miserable that they did everything the could to make up for their transgression. It was never an outright threat, Peter didn't need threats. It was simply felt, an unspoken rule to always follow Peter's lead no matter what. Besides, wasn't it better to be on his good side in hopes that some of his favor would fall on them?

Wasn't that why Charlie's presence at their bonfire celebration had gone over fairly uneventfully, completely unquestioned? Peter hadn't reacted negatively to him crashing their fun and Wendy, the very person they had been celebrating, had been the one to bring the little duck. So the Lost Boys had followed their leader, just as they were meant to.

"No expectations," He repeated, promising, for whatever a promise from Peter Pan was really worth. He was lying, of course, in a sense. He had his own expectations of what could happen, what might be the chain reaction put into motion if his extended invitation was accepted. But all he really needed from Charlie was for him to show up. Then the little duck would see that he had options; straying away from his mamma didn't have to mean walking straight into danger. The Lost Boys had been his home first, after all.

"You can sit with me, help keep score, or just watch. Wendy will be playing, and I bet she'd be happy to see you there cheering her on." Peter gave a sly grin and turned, "You should be getting back before someone comes looking for you. Whatever you decide, it's your choice. Don't forget: tomorrow, midday!"

Hanging back, Charlie reflected that this was a monumentally stupid idea. Hook was going to kill him. Cecco was going to kill him. Tristan was going to stitch him back up only to also kill him. By the time word of this got out, the idea that Pan would ever come so close to the pirate camp and that Charlie would be so foolish as to go and talk to him? Someone was probably going to get keelhauled. It might be him.

It took an alarming amount of self-control to not roll his eyes. Even a few years ago, the idea of showing Pan he wasn't giving him his full attention was horrifying. Now, the mere idea that he'd show up here of all places without something being wrong was laughable. He managed to keep his eyes fixed forward, despite the effort that it took. He waited for a moment as Peter admitted this was out of place for him and with that additional hook that it was for something he'd never done... Well. Charlie's mind spun with the possibilities as his eyes opened a bit wider in anticipation. It wasn't enough to be obvious, unless you were looking for it, of course.

Perhaps... Well. It was a bit of a far-flung dream of his that one day, Nod and Hook could go home. It was his fault that they were on the boat now, of course, and it was going to be up to him to fix it. Perhaps that's why Peter had come, bringing another impossible task for an impossible ask. Charlie knew he'd do it though. He'd do it in a heartbeat for them though. They deserved it.

The actual offer ground him and his mind to a stop, and Charlie swore he even felt his heart stop for a moment. His mouth dropped open but no sound escaped as it looked like someone had taken a rock and cracked open the very core of Charlie, leaving all those bits that had formed around Pan before being tucked away and hidden from the light of day to spill out through his eyes.

"Me?" It was hardly more than a whisper. "You're asking me to come watch? I..." He swallowed, trying to bring some moisture back into his suddenly dry throat. His eyes sparked with the possibility of tears and he blinked hard to keep them from materializing. Pan Peter didn't need to see that, not now that he was old and grown and finally able to go.

"No, no," he stumbled over the words, "I wouldn't want to fight anyways." The needling of memories had caused more than a few winces during this conversation and Charlie waved both his hands with the palm up in what he hoped showed how little he wanted to do that at such a location. "I don't want to do... Anything like that! But... I..." He stumbled over his words. "I can come watch? No... No expectation or anything? I can go there?"

If the answer was yes... Well. Charlie knew, deep down, what he expected his own answer to be if that was the case.

[heartlcssboy]

— PETER & the SHADOW !

" peter does not like being told no. he won’t accept it.

the island is his playground and everything residing on it belongs to him and him alone.

  ironic that this need to consume and covet could spell his own undoing. "

penned by VADA RAY.

[heartlcssboy]

He stares out into the distance, dazed. Blood from where the knife had penetrated his shoulder slowly trickles down his arm, staining the fair skin red in its wake. “I don’t feel any pain," he says, hollow. "It’s just…numb.”

A Lost Boy's reaction to their first raid could go a lot of different ways and Peter had no tolerance for any of them outside of fanatical enthusiasm.

"Are you complaining? Do you want it to hurt?" Peter could have told him to find a scrap of fabric and tie it off to stop the bleeding, but that was counter to what he and the island wanted. He could have told one of the others to help Bandit clean it so it didn't turn green and ooze in a couple of days, but he hadn't decided how much he liked Bandit yet, so why go through the trouble? Bandit would either figure it out or he wouldn't. Peter didn't particularly care.

He did have the good sense to pat the boy on the shoulder that hadn't been wounded and say, "Good job out there. Bet it'll make for a nasty scar." His smile was wide and his eyes shined with delight, "You're a Lost Boy proper now."

Because he had to pretend to be impressed here and there; to make them believe he cared, that they were special. Otherwise it didn't work, any of it, now did it?

[heartlcssboy]

“There was so much blood. I’ve never seen so much.”

'It wasn't so much', almost slipped past Peter's lips before he caught them. While true, comparatively to what he'd seen in the past anyway, it wasn't the right thing to say and he knew that. It was always a bit tricky to remember that he couldn't speak freely to Wendy the way he did with the merfolk or the small folk. He wanted to. But he couldn't risk losing her. Not again.

It was so easy to play the part around the Lost Boys. For one, they weren't nearly as clever and didn't pick up on the smallest of things the way his Wendy did. But it was more than that, there was something about her presence that simultaneously put him at ease while also making him feel every bit as invincible and untouchable as he truly was. He didn't want to be calculated around her all the time, even though she was precisely the person he needed to be the most careful around. Peter wasn't great at doing the things he didn't want to do. He loathed it, but...he needed her to be happy here. The island didn't like it when she was miserable or when she left. Peter didn't care for it either. So he'd keep trying to be precisely the hero Wendy wanted him to be, and nothing more.

"They're a terror alright, especially when the moon is full. Best to stay far, far away from the lagoon for a few days. Especially if I'm not with you!"

[heartlcssboy]

“I don’t feel any pain. It’s just…numb.”

Peter tilted his head to the side in consideration, face scrunched up. That wasn't the insight Peter had been looking forward to hearing when he'd asked what it was like for a small folk to posses someone and his disappointment read loud and clear. He'd been hoping for something....more. Something fantastical.

Numbness was something he knew all too well. Not that he didn't feel pain, he did. Of course, he did. But it was always fleeting and easily forgotten — nothing lasting, nothing that lingered. Everything was always so fleeting....What he felt and what others felt wasn't the same. It couldn't be. Not with the way everyone else always made such a fuss. There was something he was missing out on and Peter hated to miss out. He'd hoped Azalea could have helped fill in the gaps for him.

Peter heaved a heavy, disappointed sigh, "What's the fun of it then? I mean — why bother doing it if you don't feel anything?"

[heartlcssboy]

“What - what did you DO to yourself?!” — Marlowe

It was quite a feat to catch Peter unaware. Although, being around large doses of magic always left him buzzing and disoriented, so his faculties weren't exactly in his full possession at the moment. He'd come to the sea — not the lagoon, even Pan, who feared very little, knew better than to wade into merfolk infested waters in his current state — to clean himself off. He was still in a thick daze and he hadn't noticed the mer until Marlowe had spoken.

Marlowe's presence normally didn't phase Peter in the slightest. Now, however, it did make him a tad uneasy. He couldn't bring himself to be too bothered though. It was unlikely any of the mer would be wittless enough to try attacking him. The moon wasn't even full. He knew, thanks to the festivities he'd just left, that it was a new moon. Half a cycle away from the full moon. Besides, it was only Marlowe. And Peter could easily take one mer.

"What are you on about?!" His tone was defensive at first but once the words had left his mouth, his mind had caught on. "Oh, right." He chuckled at his own foolishness, gesturing down to the dried blood covering his skin in intricate symbols, "This."

He rubbed a hand through his curls, staining red hair redder, and grinned, unabashed, "Some of the small folk were doing a ritual and invited me to join in."

@lowetyde

[heartlcssboy]

“They just collapsed ..... right in front of me." The words taste funny as they leave his mouth, almost as if they're not real, like he and the Boys are just playing pretend. Nate--recently christened "Bandit"--continues, unsure, "What do we do?

Peter had to stop abruptly, his laughter cut short, to keep from slamming into Bandit. He was about to tell the boy off for stopping like that and getting in his way when he saw the crumpled Lost Boy on the forest's floor.

What do we do? Peter's eyebrows knitted together in apparent confusion. It was always so striking just how strange people were about death. He couldn't understand it, but then death wasn't for him so maybe he wasn't meant to....or perhaps people were just silly and wanted to make a bigger deal out of something for the fun of it. Peter didn't find it much fun. It was cumbersome really.

"Nothing," Peter said with a shrug and began his trek again, walking carelessly around the body. Why should they do anything at all? The island would feast on the body and take care of the mess for them. It'd take a while, sure, but, he had far better things to focus his energy on than someone who'd made the poor decision to get sick and die. It was a relief that the sickness had finally taken them though. Peter hated when the Lost Boys got sick.

He turned back to look at Bandit and, begrudgingly, added, "Bones will see to it." Which was probably true. If word got back to Bones anyway. Then with a large grin he insisted, "Now, come on, let's go! We're nearly there!"

[heartlcssboy]

“I-I can’t get the bleeding to stop.”

It was rare when Peter decided to stay still long enough to truly rest. He was indulging in one of these rare times when the frantic sound of windchimes and the familiar sound of Azalea's voice rang out.

He squinted into the still darkness, mind foggy and agitated at being pulled from its precious slumber. Seeing this particular smallfolk flitting among the Lost Boy's sleeping bodies was nothing out of the ordinary as he'd given her permission to do so when she pleased. It took him a long moment to comprehend what the fuss was all about, but once he did absorb it, his initial response was a soft, "Huh."

It seemed the fae had chosen the wrong spot to take a bite from one of the boys who was now free bleeding at an alarming rate. Or, he supposed, it should have been alarming. To someone else, it might have been, but this one wasn't one of his favorites. Peter couldn't even remember their name. And so, they didn't matter.

"An honest mistake," he dismissed in a hushed tone, "Nothing to be done. But keep him quiet, don't want to wake the others." With that he rolled over and tried to find his way back to sleeping once more.