#and a confused rush of other unpleasant feelings (she's having a hard time even identifying them but among them are sorrow and grief)

[blujayonthewing]

the problem with Elyss feeling everything so much all the time but being really bad at introspection and actually understanding and articulating those feelings is that there is stuff inside of her that I need other people to hear, but it’s hard for me to imagine her being literally remotely capable of, say, confronting her birth father with what, exactly, it is she feels about him

#Elyss already says a lot of things that make me feel weird because I can feel the stretch of it #she talks a lot more about her feelings than she should because *I* want to explain them #but even stretching what feels actually in character for her I still feel hard pressed to justify a few specific impassioned speeches #but her genie father who had apparently been surveilling her entire life and documenting it from a (really long) distance #wrote a forward in that book about how Elyss was his favorite of his children but 'she never seemed to seek me out' #how dare you! how dare you fling my mother across the world to bear me and raise me alone! #how dare you watch my life in silence from another fucking continent without making yourself known and say I never sought you! #I was a CHILD and I was so so alone-- where were you? #I threw myself- unprepared and ignorant- into the wilderness DESPERATELY hoping for answers to who and what I am-- where were you? #I didn't know you EXISTED-- where should I have sought you?? how DARE you? #... actually I think what I almost want more is for her to be able to explain this to the party but that almost seems harder #but anyway it's all a moot point because all Elyss knows is that thinking about her father fills her with deep anger #and a confused rush of other unpleasant feelings (she's having a hard time even identifying them but among them are sorrow and grief) #she feels that she hates him. she's not incapable of picking apart why but it's A Process for her and she hasn't had time #is she even introspective/ self aware enough to call it resentment...? #about me #my OCs #elyss

[kieraelieson]

Medusa

Logan shifted uncomfortably. He didn’t like when guests came. To be fair, there was very little that he did like about what his life had become, but guests were the worst. Ever since the dragon witch had abducted him he’d been a possession, but some days he could think of himself at least as a living possession. As a guard dog. But not when guests came. When guests came he was only a trophy. 

He was held almost entirely still by a binding magic, standing straight with his hands behind his back like a servant waiting for orders. Covering his eyes was an ornate golden blindfold, which was only for decoration as the magic forced him to keep his eyes closed. 

Judging by the long wait, this guest must actually be someone with royal blood, whom the dragon witch was trying to intimidate. He was somewhere in the room, but Logan wasn’t entirely sure exactly where. 

Suddenly he felt the itch. No. Sneezes while under binding magic were incredibly awkward. But sure enough, his body twitched and convulsed in a futile attempt to make him sneeze. 

There was a thump, as of someone falling over, and a shocked, “Oh, dear!” 

Logan, of course, could not reply, other than flushing at the realization that he’d been observed in that unpleasant situation. 

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were alive.” The voice said after a long second. 

With Logan unable to reply, there was silence again. 

“You—- are alive, right?”

Logan managed to purse his lips and nod very minutely. 

“Oh, good.” The voice said, relieved. “That would’ve been really creepy. My name’s Patton!”

Logan had no way of returning the favor, but he managed another minute nod in acknowledgement. 

“Um… is Mrs. Dragon Witch home? I thought she was, but maybe that was just some magic.”

Logan’s lips quirked up ever so slightly. So much for intimidation. He nodded. 

“Oh, ok. So are you… stuck? Can you move?”

Shaking his head was more prohibited by the binding than nodding, and Logan pursed his lips. 

“Oh. What if I move you off of that stand? Could you move then?”

“Having fun with my pet?” The dragon witch said smoothly, finally entering the room. “Would you like to pet his head?”

When the guest spoke next, he sounded almost offended. “I don’t think he’d like that.”

“You don’t? Why don’t you ask him?” Even without seeing her, Logan could feel her eyes on him, and feel the threat if he should say no. 

The binding suddenly released, and Logan nearly fell over, but was caught by someone that wasn’t the dragon witch. 

“Well, pet, what do you say? Would you like to be petted?”

Before Logan could respond, Patton said almost angrily, “He’s a person, you shouldn’t do this!”

“He’s my pet, I can do whatever I like,” the dragon witch said, annoyed. 

“No you can’t! It’s not right!”

Logan’s arm was suddenly grabbed in a familiar vice grip, and he didn’t resist being pulled away from Patton. Being pushed to his knees was much less enjoyable, but he knew better than to struggle at this point. It was go willingly or be forced. 

“Why did you come here, anyway?” The dragon witch said coldly. 

“I was curious,” Patton said, his voice clipped with anger. “I wanted to know why everyone was so afraid of you.”

“Curious?” The dragon witch said. “And without knowing why people are afraid of me you would dare to challenge me over my property?”

“He’s not property, he’s a person!”

“I see.” Her tone made Logan shiver, and she lifted the blindfold off of his eyes. 

Logan squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to do this. Not to someone who’d tried to help him. 

But instead of commanding him to look at Patton, she laughed slightly, a cold, brittle laugh. 

“Then take him. Take him away with you. You can have him.”

“Really?”

“Yes,” she said sweetly, before her voice ground low again. “But he will regret it. You show me that you can handle something like he is, and you can keep him. But you won’t. You’ll just make him miserable, and he’ll come crawling back to me begging the instant you let him go.”

Logan did not like the sound of that. Not at all. 

But his hand was lifted and put into Patton’s, and Patton tugged gently until Logan got to his feet and followed him, still keeping his eyes carefully closed. 

The sun hit his skin as they stepped outside, a sensation he hadn’t felt in he didn’t even know how long. 

“Ugh, I don’t like all the statues,” Patton said. “I thought you were one too, at first.”

His words hit Logan with the force of a punch to his gut. Statues. He’d made those. He’d…… he’d killed people to make those. 

Awful, terrible feelings, emotions he hadn’t felt before, welled up in his stomach, making it twist and lurch. Tears started leaking out from his tightly closed eyelids and breathing was getting hard. He stumbled, and then pulled away from Patton, turning his face away as he gagged. 

“Are you ok?!”

Logan shook his head and gagged again, his breathing speeding up and making him dizzy, which just made him more nauseous. 

“We have to get you out of here, she’s doing something to you!” Patton said, pulling Logan. “If we get back to my camp, Virgil can break whatever spell it is.”

Logan stumbled behind Patton, his mind a never-ending whirl of eyes. Terrified eyes, looking into his, pleading with him. Eyes that turned to stone. They were always the last, always pleading the longest, and he’d never once listened. 

He choked, tears pouring out even more as his body shook. 

“I’m so sorry,” Patton said. “We just have to get you to Virgil.”

Patton suddenly whistled very loudly, and there was a whistle in response. Then another person’s voice that Logan wasn’t paying much attention to. 

“Who’s— wait, how do you have him?!”

“Virgil, he’s been cursed, you have to help!”

Patton let go of Logan’s hand, which left Logan free to curl up on the ground and let out a weak, raspy scream. 

“He’s… not. There’s no curses on him Pat.”

“Well, something’s wrong!” Patton exclaimed. 

A hand laid gently on Logan’s back, rubbing soft circles. “Did something happen?”

“I-I—“ Logan’s attempt at speech devolved into another scream, wailing into the dirt. 

“Patton, tell me what happened,” Virgil said firmly, but his hand remained gentle on Logan’s back. 

Patton ran through the events quickly, but Logan wasn’t paying attention. His body was still rushing, making him cry, and scream, and his stomach lurch again and again. He didn’t understand it, but he did understand that it was swiftly exhausting him. He hadn’t been so drained in… he didn’t even know when. 

The intense… grief? Whatever it was, it gave way to the exhaustion, and Logan dropped unpleasantly into sleep. 

••^*^••

He woke slowly, feeling sore and exhausted, his head aching. His eyes opened partway before he realized that someone was sitting over him, and he squeezed them shut, letting out a cry as panic shot through him at the close call. He rolled away from the person, bringing his hands up to his face. 

“Heeey, it’s alright,” a low voice said calmly. 

A sob worked its way up in his throat. 

A hand gently rested on his shoulder, not gripping or pushing him, and Logan was even more confused by the sudden impulse to grab that hand and hold it close to his chest. 

His mind was swirling, but hardly any of it was thoughts. He’d felt emotions enough before to identify them as the problem, but why they were so strong and so many he had no idea. 

“We think we’ve figured out what happened,” the voice said gently, and the hand moved in small circles. “How long have you been with her?”

“Since… I don’t know. I was a child.” Logan said, sobs threatening to spill out now that he’d opened his mouth. 

“Did you eat? Or sleep?”

“I— no.” Logan shook his head miserably. “I watched.”

The voice hummed quietly. “Well, we think that since you aren’t cursed now, you were then. She took away your need to eat, and to sleep, and to feel. It’s all coming back to you now, and you don’t know how to regulate it.”

Tears spilled over. “I don’t want to regulate it, I want it gone!” Logan started sobbing again, the pain in his head growing to be almost as great as the pain in his chest and stomach. “Send me back, it hurts!”

But the person didn’t answer other than to make soft, comforting noises and to rub his back while Logan sobbed. 

Slowly, far, far too slowly, the sobs faded into sniffles. Logan was far too miserable now to care about any kind of propriety, and he reached up to pull the hand down, curling around it as if it was his lifeline. Whoever it belonged to was kind enough to both let him and also not comment. 

Some time later, footsteps came towards them. “Here, it’s ready now.”

A second hand patted his shoulder. “Do you want to try eating?”

Logan shook his head.

There was a brief silence before his shoulder was patted again. “Can you try, please? If you haven’t eaten in so long, it might be dangerous not to.”

Logan sat up and groaned as his head pounded even more. “Could I have a blindfold?”

“Why?” Patton asked, but was quickly shushed. 

“Of course you can.”

Moments later was a sound of ripping fabric, and then a long strip of cloth was given to him. Safely blindfolded, he relaxed a bit, which seemed to make him feel just a tiny sliver better. 

“Here you go,” Patton said gently, giving him a bowl that was warm to the touch. 

Logan lifted it to his mouth, well aware that two pairs of eyes were fixed on him. Based on smell, it seemed to be a weak broth with herbs. It didn’t seem like something he would enjoy, but when he took the first swallow it didn’t taste bad. Almost as soon as it hit his stomach though he lurched, leaning to the side and vomiting up the little he’d drunk. He also managed to spill broth onto his pants, which made him even more uncomfortable. 

He found himself incredibly frustrated, and tears welled up in his eyes again. Tears that he did not want. But getting angry at himself for tearing up was enough to push him over the edge into full crying yet again. 

He held out the bowl in the same direction it had come in. “I can’t do this. Please, just let me go back. I’ll find my own way. I don’t want this.”

“No.” Patton said, gently, but firmly. “She did not treat you right, and put some kind of a spell on you so that you couldn’t even get mad enough to try and fight back.”

Disappointment so heavy it felt like a weight fell on Logan. “Please, if this is what I was missing I don’t want it!”

A hand cupped his face gently. “No, this isn’t it. This is because she kept it all away for so long. Just give us some time, ok? Two weeks, and then if you still want to go back I’ll let you.”

Two weeks of this misery. This hell. It might as well have been eternity. Logan choked on sobs again.

“Ohhh… can I hug you?”

Logan wasn’t even sure. He had only the vaguest idea of what a hug was. But then arms were wrapping around him, and it wasn’t restraining, it was warm, and kind, and he leaned his head down to sob into Patton’s shoulder. 

“It’ll be alright. Just let it all out.”

Logan hated this. He hated every single bit of all of this. Except maybe the hug. That was tolerable.

••^*^••

The Gorgon was safely asleep again, and Virgil pulled Patton aside. 

“Are you sure this is a good idea?”

Patton’s face grew determined and a little offended. “I’m very sure! Just look at him! He can’t even let himself see things!”

Virgil sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d hoped it had just slipped Patton’s mind, but no, he really didn’t know. “He’s a Gorgon, Patton. If he gets angry enough at us he could just pull down that blindfold and we’d both be stone.”

Patton’s face went ashen. He was silent a long moment, not quite looking at Virgil. “That’s why…”

“Why what?”

“It started when we went out of the cave and saw all the statues. I thought it was the dragon witch casting the spell once we were outside, but he saw them all. He… he killed them all…”

Virgil crossed his arms, looking down. “Yeah, that’s… That’s what Gorgons do.”

“No!” Patton said. “Not him! He didn’t want to, I’m sure of it. That’s why he started crying when he saw them.”

“Yeah, but he did.”

Patton gave him the sternest glare he was capable of. “He was also standing frozen until she let him move. It’s not his fault.”

Virgil tried giving a noncommittal half-smile and shrug. 

But Patton didn’t seem satisfied with that. “Virgil, you had better be nice to him--!”

“I never said I wouldn’t!” Virgil protested. “Just we have to be careful. And honest about what he is.”

“He is a person!”

Virgil sighed. “Yes. A person that could kill us with a glance.”

Patton frowned, crossing his arms. “If you make him upset I’ll never hug you again.”

Virgil threw up his hands. “Everything is gonna make him upset right now!”

“You know what I mean!”

Virgil sighed. “Fine. Yes. I’ll be nice to the Gorgon.”

“Thank you.”

••^*^••

Logan woke again to a pounding headache, and an ache in his stomach, but mind temporarily clearer, not swarmed with emotions. 

Someone was stirring something near him, and he could hear the tell-tale crackle of a fire. 

“Morning,” the voice that wasn’t Patton’s said. “Sleep well?”

Logan sat up. “Not particularly.”

“Well, that’s no fun. Anyway, I’m supposed to get you to eat something, but just a little, like a spoonful.”

Logan shrugged. It wasn’t like they cared what he wanted anyway. 

His hand was touched, and a spoon put into it carefully. He sipped it, and wasn’t surprised that it was the same thing as before. His stomach cramped, but he didn’t think he’d throw up.

“Better?”

Logan shrugged. 

“Well, how are you feeling?”

“My head hurts, and my stomach.”

“Mmmm, yeah. Your head is probably from all the crying.”

Logan grimaced.

“I can try something, if you want.”

“If I say no, you’ll just do it anyway.”

The person sucked in a quick breath. “No, I wouldn’t. Let’s… We got off on the wrong foot. My name is Virgil, it’s nice to meet you.”

Logan wasn’t sure what feet had to do with anything, but he held out a hand for the standard shake. “My name is Logan. It has genuinely not been nice to make your acquaintance, but I do hope that you are correct and that I will enjoy it more later.”

He could practically hear the grimace. “Yeah… we do too. Anyway, I can do some magic. It’s not amazing or anything, but it might help your headache, if you don’t mind me trying.”

“Honestly, I would accept anything that would relieve some of this pain,” Logan sighed.

“Alright, I’m going to move next to you, and you can lay back and put your head in my lap. I’ll be touching your head to do the magic. Will that be ok?”

Logan nodded, and let Virgil maneuver him into the desired position. Almost as soon as Virgil’s fingers touched his scalp he started to feel relief, and his whole body relaxed as Virgil continued, soft rubbing motions in little circles all over. 

As the pain entirely faded away, it even started to feel… nice. Logan found himself letting out a little hum sometimes as Virgil kept going.

Virgil chuckled. “I guess that means it’s working?”

“It is a pleasant sensation,” Logan said, his voice ever so slightly slurred. He could barely remember being so relaxed before.

“Can I try feeding you just one more spoonful? You’d just have to open your mouth.”

“You may,” Logan said, unaccustomed to giving permission.

He opened his mouth to accept one more spoonful of the broth, which made his stomach clench again, but he just breathed in deep, and then Virgil continued his ministrations, which made him relax, and his stomach gradually unwound itself.

••^*^••

Patton was extremely glad to come back from getting firewood to see the man, whose name was apparently Logan, asleep on Virgil’s lap, and a half-empty bowl of broth beside them.

Things seemed to be looking up again.

Until Logan woke up with a nightmare. He screamed and sobbed, covering his already-covered eyes. Patton hugged him tight, letting him hide his face in Patton’s chest and cry, telling Patton about the eyes he was seeing, and about the pleas he was hearing, and about how he hadn’t cared about any of it. Patton just rocked him back and forth and listened to it all come out, and then reassured Logan that it wasn’t his fault. 

It was a long, long night before Logan finally fell back asleep.

“You know,” Virgil said contemplatively. “If we help him get better, we can say we defeated the dragon witch’s monster, cause that’s kind of true. And then we can just let him be Logan.”

Patton didn’t think they needed to claim defeating a monster, but he did like the idea of not letting people know who Logan used to be.

••^*^••

It was only one week later, rather than two, when Logan decided for himself that he never, ever wanted to go back. Things were beginning to settle down. He still cried, but no more the great wracking sobs, and he was able to eat small meals now. His intense longing for gentle touch had faded somewhat, and he found that he apparently had moods that were meant to regulate that. There were also moods for eating, and the intensity of the different kinds of moods also varied. 

Virgil and Patton walked him around, gradually farther and farther away from the dragon witch. He saw grass, which he remembered, and trees which he also remembered, but he hadn’t remembered the variety. And he certainly hadn’t remembered how very many different plants there were. 

And then, when one night he didn’t fall asleep right away, and saw the stars, he felt like he really had lost something great by being with the dragon witch so long. How he’d been kept from them so long he didn’t know, but he vowed that it wouldn’t happen again.

As it turned out, Patton was the third prince of a nearby kingdom, and Virgil was his servant. Logan would have never guessed Virgil was a servant had he not been told. They’d always seemed so equal. So when Patton offered him a similar position, wincing and apologizing for the title, and promising that he would never think of Logan as any less than himself, or try to make him do anything he didn’t want to, Logan accepted.

#my own work #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #fantasy au #crying #throwing up #killing mention #virgil sanders

[mellowasinyellow]

100daysofwriting - Day 1

So I thought for the first day I might just briefly outline all of the WIPs I have actually made a start on and that might help me to decide where I want to focus some energy. I have some for Katniss/Peeta in THG fandom and some for Natasha/Clint in the MCU.

Everlark

folklore series - so I started this series of fics inspired by songs from Taylor Swift's album folklore because honestly those songs just immediately bring to mind so many scenarios that made me think of Katniss and Peeta. I made a start on chapters based on peace, my tears ricochet, invisible string, this is me trying, and mad woman. I also have a bit of an outline for continuing the story that was started in 'the 1'.

I've had this one WIP ongoing since about 2015(?) which is a bit of a monster that has grown beyond me but basically it involves Katniss and Gale being raised in the Capitol in relative poverty after their fathers are conscripted into the peacekeepers because of traitorous activity. Mrs Everdeen is still from 12 but was moved to the Captiol to be married (this part is sketchy) and she still had a little childhood romance with Mr Mellark. Peeta gets reaped and Mrs Everdeen reacts to this as he looks like his father. Katniss gets a crush on him as she watches him prepare for the games. She hates herself for it but finds herself checking up on how he is doing even during non-mandatory viewing.

Arranged Marriage - I feel like this is such a cliche for thg fandom, but I just imagined my own way that the pairings happen but I'm so bad at writing slow burn so this will probably never materialise, but if you want a semi-decent thought out pairing/arranged marriage system I would be happy to lend you mine.

Miscarriage fic - I will never post this, but it's in my WIP folder. It's full of nasty feelings that feel a little better when they are written about.

Modern AU Pandemic Quarantine! - ofc, this is essential. Katniss and Peeta end up as the only people not to move home from their dorm for the quarantine. Slow burn that I can't fucking write should ensue.

Canon Pandemic Quarantine AU - pandemic a few years after the end of the war forces Katniss to admit she wants Peeta as more than a friend with whom she hunts, bakes, rebuilds the district. Cue sexy pandemic times and a resentful Haymitch that keeps accidentally breaking the rules.

Divorced but co-parenting Everlark - obviously finding their way back together

Another classic of their children being reaped and dying - I don't know why I write things this depressing. They just tend to come out in one big rush and then I never address them again.

Real weird teen pregnancy modern day AU - don't know where it's going or why...

Modern day AU dead Prim - Peeta and Katniss just met each other through mutual friends and are kind of flirting. Peeta is a bit infatuated. Katniss stops going to mutual friend parties and he finds out it's because her sister died. Instead of staying away he gets tangled up in her grief and does all sorts of practical things while Katniss wallows. Also it's E rated but not that much fun... can't entirely explain where this one came from either...

Single Parent AU where Finnick and Annie play match maker. Probably my fave Everlark in the works but it's another one that has grown so big for the 20 minutes I can dedicate to it each week.

Clintasha

Red Room Take Down - Nat and Clint are retired and living a quiet family life with their child. SHIELD appears asking for Nat's help in taking down the red room and dealing with the fall out, specifically what to do with the girls that they get out. Nat is torn but chooses to go. Chaos ensues with the 'rescued' girls. I need to actually develop some OCs a little if I ever want this to be good but tbh the pending Black Widow movie is kind of holding me back on this one too because I hope we find out more about the red room.

So I have a weird habit of writing from Lila Barton's POV. I can't explain it. I have AoU and like to pretend it never happened but anyway I have a WIP about Lila detailing the collapse of her parents' marriage after Clint retires and he and Laura actually have to spend time together without Natasha. She then goes on to describe the custody settlement and her utter joy that Auntie Nat sleepovers with them at her dad's place. She feels utterly betrayed when she finds out they are getting engaged.

Fluffy AU - Clint and Natasha in an established relationship with a son born between infinity war and endgame. Natasha still sacrifices on Vormir, but Steve gets her back no bother and it's so nice and happy and fluffy and Clint and Natasha are together and they have a son who has both parents back and Steve gets to make all this happen and he is so happy too and they have a barbecue and go swimming in a lake and clint/natasha have private time, and their kid wants to be captain america, and did I mention how HAPPY everyone is?

Another fic similar to the above just about everyone being so HAPPY. Endgame reverses the snap and instead of weird farm family coming back Clint and Natasha get their daughter back and it's just a cute moment about her reappearance and their race back to the spot she disintegrated from. (Steve/Bucky go to Vormir and Steve is sacrificed, but that fucker CHOSE to leave).

This is another one that has just grown bigger than my brain. it's based off the idea that Natasha helped with coordinating fosterings during the blip time. Clint loses his mind when he loses his family and crashes in BedStuy but finds a neighbour girl (Kate Bishop) who is fending for herself in post-apocalyptic Brooklyn. He helps her out and tries to get children's services involved but it has collapsed. Finds out Natasha is the one getting everything in order. He gets in touch. She's at the end of her tether and asks why he can't keep looking after her. In the end he does and she ends up getting involved and all three get overly attached to each other. I haven't got as far as the events of endgame and idk what's going to happen. It might be tragic.

Pregnant Natasha but nobody knows what is wrong with her because they don't even suspect her being pregnant is possible. Just a real vivid description of the early unpleasant pregnancy symptoms.

Another absolute monster - Sort of canon compliant to begin with aside from before the farm family disappear. Clint and Laura are in the middle of separating and tensions are running quite high at the farm. Snap happens. Nat and Clint accidentally run into each other while both a bit low during the blip and get drunk and share home truths. Begin working together from HQ and both get a little less sad. He convinces her she doesn't have to be responsible for the world's fate every moment of every day. Clint has a break down at Morgan's 1st birthday and realises that things will have to change. Nat has this realisation later. They begin sleeping together. Accidental pregnancy. More feelings come out between them. They enter a more conventional relationship and have baby. Baby is really hard work (colic) and they struggle with comparisons and feelings of inadequacy. Pepper helps them to identify the colic and improves everything greatly. Happy times with baby while also running the avengers. Opportunity to reverse snap. Some good scenes between Nat and Tony. A big conversation between Nat and Clint about what it will mean. Steve and Nat end up going to Vormir together. Nat is obviously about to commit suicide. Steve over powers her and gives her a pep talk about the situation she is running away from and how to deal with it. He self-sacrifices. Clint goes back to farm fam and Natasha goes back to BedStuy with baby. Clint has to tell Laura and then the kids about the last 5 years and their new siblings. Nate is super into it. Cooper is a bit aloof and cynical. Lila is confused. Laura is quietly seething. Clint helps put the farm back together about 5 years of neglect and the kids meet baby. Family gets happier. Laura and Nat eventually meet again and it's civil/friendly.

My own version of what happened in Budapest.

The Call - inspired by a post here on tumblr. Nat calls Clint as she bleeds out. Just needs a beta reader and then I would consider publishing.

AoU reimagined but with Clintasha - I'm not sure where this one is going it's like a massive spider web right now with lots of ideas shooting off, but basically it is inspired by this post and just involves a lot of hoodwinking the other avengers.

Accidental Baby Acquisition - Natasha becomes Yelena's child's legal guardian after Yelena gets taken out. Natasha and Yelena are estranged at this point and Natasha things the whole thing is a trap and brings Clint along. He is surprisingly good with the baby so she ropes him in to teach her. The three of them end up bonding.

5 times there's only 1 bed + 1 time they choose to sleep in the same bed.

non-superhero AU Clint and Nat both think they have adopted a stay cat but actually the cat has owners and just likes strokes and eats a lot so has many 'families'. They get into an argument over which of them the cat belongs to only to find out the cat has owners and they are moving away. They decide to adopt a cat between them as both are not hope that much and the shelter refused them as single people. Slow burn ensues, which I am shit at writing.

#100daysofwriting #everlark #clintasha #thg #mcu #clintasha fanfic #clintasha fanfiction #clintasha fic #everlark fic #everlark fanfic #everlark fanfiction #natasha romanoff #clint barton #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

[moonmoon2102]

MoonSun [Post-apocalyptic AU] PT. 1

I’ve been listening to the soundtrack of one of my personal favorite video games from 2019 (Days Gone) and my mind decided to become active and create scenarios of an AU I actually never intended on writing at all. It kept bothering me until I actually did sit down and typed away

I have no idea if I will ever get to writing a full story of this. I can’t say that I won’t but I also can’t say I will with certainty. So might as well just share some bits and pieces here.

Also, English is not my first language so I apologize for possible grammar mistakes and typos.

Yongsun slowly opened her eyes as she regained consciousness, blinking a few times to get rid of her bleary vision. Her eyes scanned the surroundings, a slight soupçon of panic took her over once she realized this place wasn't familiar to her at all. She quickly sat up, groaning as her blood rushed to her head, making it pound tremendously. 

Yongsun took a few deep breathes, trying to collect her thoughts. A string of questions flickered through her mind, wanting to be answered all at once. How did she get here? Where was she? What happened? The ashblond woman wrecked her brain, trying to find answers. No matter how hard she tried to remember what had happened, everything after the assault remained black to her memory.

 The assault

 It slowly came back to her. She's been out to scout the area before she got assaulted by raiders. She remembered the first gunshot, the bullet sinking into the ground in front of her feet. Shortly after that, bullets flew everywhere, leaving Yongsun with no other choice but to run for cover. Once she had found a somewhat safe spot behind the debris of what she knew once had been a hardware store, she was finally able to scan the area for a quick escape route. 

Swiftly moving from one spot to the next she was almost out of the dangerzone as she felt a sharp sting on the right side of her waist, then another in her thigh. Yongsun recalled she stumbled, crying out in pain before she fell onto the dusty ground and her mind went blank.

 The low rumble of what Yongsun identified as the engines of motorcycles crashed her speeding train of thoughts. Her gaze wandered to the boarded-up window, daylight seeped through the cracks and illuminated the room she was in. 

Biting her lip and trying her best to ignore the sharp pain in both, waist and thigh, she slid off the bed, immediately regretting that decision as her body got gripped by a vertigo, causing the ashblond woman to stumble forward. Her hands blindly reached for anything that could support her and luckily found the back lean of a chair standing at the foot of the bed she's been resting on.

 Clenching her teeth, Yongsun endured the mind-numbing pain rushing through her body, breathing heavily through her nose. Her hand moved towards her injured thigh, eyes dropping down as she realized it was bandaged. 

The ashblond woman's eyebrows knitted together in confusion and as if her hand was lead by an unseen force, Yong let her palm glide across her stomach, feeling the overlapping fabric through her shirt. As if to confirm, she lifted the piece of clothing to peek down at the white bandage. Someone has been taking care of her wounds.

 Yongsun wasn't really sure what to make of this. Did someone really want to save her life or was the reason she got patched up an entirely different one? Ransom maybe? Keeping her alive to squeeze out informations from her? While her mind ran wild at the possibilities, her ears detected the sound of faint voices. She could make out four different ones.

With her curiosity piqued, the ashblond woman took a few deep breathes, bracing herself for the unpleasant feeling wrecking her body as soon as she began to move again, trying as hard as she could to ignore the soupçon of nausea rippling through her. 

The injured woman limped towards the window, leaning against the wall as soon as she reached it while she panted, hand clutching onto her waist, sweat had begun to form on her forehead. Taking a moment to collect herself she leaned forward, as far as her injury would allow her to, peeking through the cracks of the wooden boards.

 Her eyes scanned the area, noticing two makeshift watch towers with heavily armed men, two more men near the high fence gate. Yongsun's gaze wandered and in the middle of the outpost's wide space, she spotted them. There were indeed four people standing at a table, all four leaning over the map folded out on the flat surface. They were the ones talking, one guy and three women. The first she noticed was the woman in the middle. 

Long black hair flowed over her shoulders, a black snapback on her head, the visor hid most of her face. She wore a t-shirt that was mostly covered by a bulletproof vest. 

Smart in a world like that. 

The camouflage pants were neatly tucked into black combat boots, a holster with a gun strapped onto her right thigh. The other two women were slightly smaller than her, both black haired too, sporting the same dark color from top to bottom.

While the guy just nodded and sometimes agreed with a simple word, the three women were actively discussing. Judging by the way the woman who stood in the middle moved her finger across the map, pointing at certain spots they seemed to discuss a route.

 Yongsun couldn't help but to keep her eyes fixed onto the woman with the snapback. The way she kept on exchanging looks with the other two made Yong believe she was the one leading the outpost. She saw them nod to each other in agreement. The ashblond woman watched the leader dig her hands into the pockets of her pants, gaze still fixed onto the map as if to confirm what they just had agreed upon which she did with a small but firm nod to herself. 

While the smallest of the group was talking, Yongsun's heart skipped a beat as the tallest woman suddenly lifted her head, staring straight up at her. She could see her say something to the others, patting the woman to her right on the shoulder before she walked towards the entrance of the house Yongsun was in.

Yongsun's mind ran wild, her breathing picked up as she frantically looked around to find anything to defend herself with. Even though these people were the ones who brought her to safety and took care of her wounds, their motives were still left unexplained. 

Sheer panic took ahold of her as she could hear the creaking of what she assumed were the stairs, followed by footsteps approaching the door. With the adrenaline rushing through every fiber of her being, Yongsun limped towards the chair, grabbing it firmly, ready to try and hurl it at the one approaching.

Her muscles tensed as the door slowly opened and in walked the woman she's been watching outside just a minute ago. Confusion was written all over her face as soon as she spotted Yongsun, back pressed against the wall, breathing heavily with the chair slightly lifted in front of her as some sort of shield. The woman would've laughed at the almost comical sight if she didn't know it was out of sheer panic and fear. For a few moments, the two of them just stared at each other. 

"Hey..." the other woman greeted in a surprisingly soft tone, but still not enough to make Yongsun drop her guard, "you're awake. That's good but you shouldn't be moving around." 

The slightly taller woman took a step forward, only to see Yong flinch, lifting the chair even more, wincing from the pain in her waist. 

"It's okay," the black haired woman said, lifting both of her hands up, "I'm not gonna hurt you." 

She could see Yongsun's eyes flicker towards the holstered gun. 

"I'll reach for my gun to drop it, okay? I really mean no harm." 

The woman slowly lowered her right hand, unbuckling the clasp that held the weapon secure in the holster. 

The ashblond woman's heart pounded against her chest, her muscles still tensed, ready to try and dodge the bullet if one was fired, her eyes followed each and every single movement the other woman made. 

Much to Yongsun's surprise the stranger stayed true to her word, squatting down to drop the gun to the floor. She slowly straightened herself, both hands still lifted, eyes fixed on Yongsun as she kicked the gun to the side to signal she really meant it.

 As soon as the gun was out of the black haired woman's reach, all the tension dropped from the injured woman, along with her adrenaline level. The moment her body relaxed, her head began to swirl as another vertigo dug its claws deep into her consciousness. 

Her grip loosened on the chair she's been clutching tightly, clattering loudly onto the floor as Yongsun staggered, hands reaching for nothing but air. The last thing she remembered was the other woman rushing towards her, catching her in her arms, her voice faint and distant before she blacked out.

That wraps up this one; To whoever took the time to read: Thank you very much :) I hope you enjoyed reading.

#moonsun #moon byulyi #kim yongsun #moonbyul #solar #mamamoo #post-apocalyptic au #writing #story #fanfiction #inspired by Days Gone

[agirlinjapan]

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars (Week 25)

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation

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It’s summer! Woo! I have the next two months more or less to myself to do all sorts of fun things, including getting back to a regular translation schedule!

Speaking of translation schedules, today marks the return of weekly RDG posts! Lots of translation time means lots of material to share with you. I’ll return to biweekly posts in the fall, but until then, enjoy lots of RDG!

Red Data Girl: My Wish on the Night of the Shooting Stars By Noriko Ogiwara Chapter 3: Winter Solstice Part 4 (1 of 2)

As there were no windows in the hall, it was pitch black without the overhead lights on. Everyone at the party sucked in a collective breath and stopped moving. There was a beat of silence where no one said a word.

I can’t…

Painfully aware that what was happening at the moment was her doing, Izumiko was grateful when the lights flickered back on a second or two later.

“What was that? A power outage?”

“I thought it was going to be the same as what happened at the school festival!”

Relieved voices broke out across the hall. Up on the stage, Hoshino was saying something into the microphone to try and quiet the crowd.

That was close…

Izumiko realized she was covered in sweat, and chills were going down her spine. She wanted to wipe the sweat off her forehead, but her hand couldn’t reach it under the costume’s head. Izumiko took a deep breath in an attempt to calm herself. However, there was something stopping her from fully relaxing and she couldn’t put her finger on where the feeling was coming from. She was being pulled under further and further by thoughts there was no escaping from.

I’m completely to blame for what’s going on here. I should be the only one being pulled down into this darkness…  

Even before this, Izumiko had been afraid of what she was finding herself to be capable of. But now she knew for sure that the thing that made her quake with fear wasn’t just around her, it was inside of her. She couldn’t separate herself from the darkness, even when she went somewhere as bright and happy as where she was now.

I’m not even a little human-like. No human would call the life I live normal either…    

When she had been deep inside of Mt. Togakushi, she had felt the sensation of floating through directionless darkness. Now inside the reindeer costume, Izumiko was experiencing the same feeling. The darkness inside of her small body was just as deep and all-consuming as the darkness she had found in Togakushi.

Something suddenly came to mind then. St. Nicolas gave presents to good children while his frightening attendant carried off bad children who didn’t receive anything. Not everyone was given equal blessings. Izumiko was overcome by a feeling of profound understanding of that reality.

“Izumiko.”

Izumiko was startled by Mayura’s soft voice which was unexpectedly close by. She hadn’t noticed the other girl’s approach at all. When she looked through the mask’s peephole though, it really was Mayura. She was still dressed in her raggedy costume, and so no one seemed to notice her sitting next to a reindeer. However, the tone of her voice was sharp, conveying her urgency.

“Hey. I couldn’t recognize shikigami before, but for some reason now, I’m seeing them all over the place. The room’s crawling with them. Do you know why?”

“Shikigami?”

Izumiko sucked in a breath and hurriedly looked around her. However, all she could see were partygoers.

“I don’t see any yet. The costume makes it hard to see anything though…”

Mayura seemed surprised.

“You don’t see any? Something must have happened. I’m going to go find out if Manatsu can see any.”

With this said, Mayura quickly left Izumiko’s side. Izumiko sat there, speechless. She did have to admit that something strange was happening, though.

Even when she strained her eyes, she couldn’t pick any shikigami out of the crowd. As expected in the artificial, overhead light, everyone’s shadows looked pale and barely there. Like the time before when she had identified Nobuyuki Sakano as a shikigami, all the guests’ bodies had a grainy look to them as if they might come apart at any minute. They were all the same.

What’s happening?...  

As she looked around the room in confusion, Miyuki and Takayanagi both came into view. Miyuki rushed towards Takayanagi and began to make the nine signs he had taught Izumiko, chanting as he did so. Takayanagi began to make the signs in the familiar lattice-shaped gesture as well. This was the first time Izumiko had seen him do it.

Perhaps it was due to the self-protection charms they were chanting, but Miyuki and Takayanagi looked less insubstantial than the people around them. Inside of her mask, Izumiko couldn’t hear distant sounds well, but she easily picked up what Miyuki said to Takayanagi.

“Don’t you think there’s a limit to what you should do? You’re so full of yourself that you brought this many shikigami here?! The regular students are going to notice something at this point!”

“Before you blame anyone, take a good look. Those aren’t shikigami. They’re something else. I thought their numbers had been growing,” Takayanagi practically snapped.

As he spoke, he pulled a piece of paper cut into a human-like form from his breast pocket and brought it to his mouth. He blew it towards a nearby female student in a costume. When the paper touched her, she disappeared. The fact remained though that to Izumiko, the girl hadn’t looked different from any other human.

“Ah, so she disappeared. Good. It doesn’t make any difference to me,” Miyuki said irritably. As he spoke, he began to swing his staff around in a way that suggested the action and its goal really didn’t make a difference to him. More students began to disappear. Only then did he appear to notice what Izumiko had already seen—all the students looked like the ones that were currently disappearing.

Mayura’s voice traveled to Izumiko in the same way as Miyuki’s had before. “Hey, Spot. Even if you’ve finally gotten to the point where you can’t control all your shikigami, you don’t have to announce it to the world.”

“Who are you calling Spot?” Takayanagi shot back unabashedly.

When Izumiko turned her reindeer head, she saw Manatsu with Mayura. They were walking forward hand in hand. Manatsu had taken off the upper half of his animal costume and had wrapped the arms around his waist to keep the bottom half up over the clothes he wore underneath. Mayura was already speaking to Takayanagi.

“You’ve had your chance, so now it’s Masumi’s turn. You’re not allowed to complain, even when he cleans all of this up. After everything’s over, you should consider apologizing to the adults for what you’ve done.”

Manatsu looked serious as he and his sister twisted their hands into a number of different gestures not unlike the ones Miyuki and Takayanagi were making. After a moment though, he glanced at Mayura as if realizing something.  

“Shoot. We messed up. It probably wasn’t the best idea to call Masumi right away…”

“Why?” Mayura asked in surprise.

It was Masumi, appearing in full form in front of them, who answered though.

“Mayura, why are you never dressed up like a princess? It’s so discouraging to me.”

Masumi was dressed in the same outfit Mayura was, complete with the fraying apron and kerchief on his head. He crouched down, looking sullen. “You know I can’t do my best when I don’t like what I’m wearing…”

“Alright, alright. I’ll go change,” Mayura said, sounding as if she had given up. Then she hurriedly walked away.

What was strange about the whole scene was that none of the other students, teachers, or guardians seemed to be paying any attention to what was going on. They all just kept talking to one another. No notice was taken of the people who Takayanagi and Miyuki had made disappear. It was as if those students had simply walked away or left the party. The non-shikigami that had escaped the two of them seemed to be sluggishly moving away without anymore fuss.

What if this is another dimension?… What if this is all happening outside of reality?...

A thought suddenly occurred to Izumiko. While she had thought everything had gone back to normal a second after the lights had gone out, something was slightly different.

Is this someplace inside of me?...

This way of thinking gave her a reasonable explanation for why she hadn’t been able to detect any shikigami. If this was someplace inside of her, then everything here was a part of her. It was strange that Miyuki and the others were acting the way they always did, but maybe this was some sort of phenomenon brought on by her desires.

I’ve been sucked down into myself. I have to find the reality beyond this…

It was difficult to be aware of the outside world when she was in a place with no apparent way out. As much as she didn’t want to, she forced her awareness in the direction of the party.

It had gotten dark outside of the auditorium. She could taste that darkness and the chill of the rattling branches on the trees across the campus. Beyond the noises of the wind, she could hear what sounded vaguely like far off, distant thunder.

Ah, it’s getting closer…

Izumiko realized this through her reluctance. Now that she was aware of it, the sound was slowly beginning to grow louder. Her senses were getting sharper, but they still offered no help. The unpleasantness of the noises continued to increase. The low bass noises felt as if they were burrowing into her head.

While it sounded like thunder, it was different from the real thing. What she heard now was a mix of ground shaking rumble and high-pitched noise. The ground shaking rumble sounded like a herd of horses’ hooves, and the high-pitched noise was like dogs howling.

…Is it the Wild Hunt?...

As she thought of this, she lost her train of thought connecting her to the outside world. She remembered what she had looked up after the exams. This was like Japan’s night parade of one hundred demons. The Wild Hunt with its supernatural hunters chasing after the dead… The collection of spirits that prowled through the darkness and storms that came along in the dead of winter…

They collect souls. The hunters of darkness that ride black horses and own black hunting dogs…

There was a thunderous roar accompanied by an ominous tremor that made her stomach quake and all the doors in the auditorium fly open. A white, mist like haze flowed into the room.

Izumiko knew that the pack of howling dogs was now in the lobby. Then they were barreling into the room, jumping and leaping as they went. A black shadow rose up in the middle of the mist. The first horse of the hunt placed a heavy hoof on the floor and let out a snort before immediately advancing. More horses followed after it, their tack jangling as their massive bodies stepped forward. Their riders, however, were less substantial than their mounts. They were little more than their brimmed hats, cloaks, boots, and gloves, like mummies or bare skeletons.

The area covered by the white mist was growing, making it hard to see the people at the party. Still, no one noticed. They paid no attention to the shadow hunters, nor did the hunters have any interest in them. The object of their hunt, the reason these dead had come together, was her alone.

This is my problem…

The hunters were the only things Izumiko could see in the darkness of her costume. At the same moment that she realized the position she was currently in, Claus let out a yell next to her.

“Ah! Keep the dogs away from me please, Izumiko.”  

“Claus, you can see them?”

“Hunting dogs are the worst. I’ve been bitten before.”

Izumiko didn’t have the time to look in Claus’s direction, but there was no doubt that he could see the black dogs from the fear audible in his voice. She took another deep breath, unsure of what to do.

“What’s happening…”

“Izumiko.”

She could hear Miyuki’s voice right next to her. She hadn’t noticed his approach anymore than she had Claus’s. When she gravely brought her hands up and turned the reindeer head, she saw Miyuki dressed in his ascetic monk’s garb and holding his staff horizontally over his head. She knew he was focused on the threat coming through the doors of the hall.

“You can see them too, Miyuki?”

“Of course I can. What do you think the point of having Wamiya with me is?” Izumiko got the sense that Miyuki had intended to speak calmly, but his voice came out hollow.

The dead hunters on their black horses and the pack of black dogs continued forward. The dogs’ deafening baying and the sounds of the horses’ hooves grew, but so did another sound—unsettling silent screams that seemed to enter her body not through her ears, but through her skin. This was joined by the high pitched, metallic sound and the unforgettable scent of death.

Unable to shout over all the noise, Miyuki brought his face close to the reindeer head.

“I don’t know why they’re here, but I’m going to drive them away. I don’t need your help, so go stand by Takayanagi.”

Izumiko held her breath. She was no longer capable of knowing if she was talking to the real Miyuki or if this was a dream. Uncertain of herself, she said weakly, “You can’t drive them away anymore. This is what’s inside of me. So there’s no point in running from it…”

“What are you talking about? I have no idea what you’re trying to say, but snap out of it. You know how to protect yourself, so don’t let them get into your head!”

Miyuki clapped a hand onto the reindeer costume’s shoulder and shook her as if trying to wake her up.

“Get it together! Everyone’s doing their best to keep you hidden.”

Izumiko couldn’t feel much through the thick fabric of the costume, but the sense of Miyuki’s touch reached her. Belatedly, she realized that they weren’t in her own personal darkness.

Ah… Alright. So I have to replace the barrier…

She knew at once what was making reality so messy. She hadn’t truly realized the reason for her protection charm, one so large it covered the whole campus, until now.

…They said that the winter solstice is the darkest day of the year…

It was as if she had opened her eyes for the first time since all of this had begun. It all made sense now. The darkness of the season had a dark effect on Izumiko’s power as well. It was something that was necessary for her to understand. Just like summer and winter came and went. Just like day and night danced around each other. This world was always shifting back and forth between light and darkness here and there. While certain things remained throughout the year, the world was not something that remained the same all the time. It was made to constantly recreate itself.

I can’t chase the darkness away from myself. But if I know that there’s a way through the darkness inside of me, I can change how I deal with it. I don’t have to let the darkness take me over…

As Izumiko discovered this about herself, Miyuki continued speaking about something else.

“I feel the same way as Mayura. I’m not happy about working with Takayanagi. It’s just that he’s here in the right place at the right time. I feel bad about saying this to Mayura and Manatsu, but we can’t let Masumi take control of this place. If he swallows up this many spirits, he’ll become invincible.”

Now that Izumiko knew that Miyuki really was himself, she was positive that this wasn’t a dream. She answered him.

“Yeah, I agree.”

Hearing her words, Miyuki turned away and called out in the opposite direction, “It sounds like we’re ready! Let’s start, Takayanagi.”

It appeared that Ichijo Takayanagi was also completely capable of seeing the Wild Hunt. Its appearance, however, seemed to have taken him very much by surprise. He faltered, not beginning whatever magic he was supposed to, and Miyuki was forced to urge him on before he began to chant.

The little paper dolls that Takayanagi blew into and then threw towards the oncoming hunt seemed like nothing compared to what they were up against. They were simply blown back in Takayanagi’s direction by the power of the invading force, fluttering up into the air.

However, up in the air, the appearingly useless charms began to change form one by one. Letting off golden glows so powerful they sent beams of light streaming down below them, they became dazzling balls of light. A second later, they had grown wings and were flying through the mist, leaving trails of brightness behind them.

Takayanagi’s creations were so bright that it was difficult to make out their actual forms, but the V-shape of their wings made them look like birds of prey. As they glided through the air, the lights split, increasing their numbers. Eventually, the whole hall was filled with light and it became clear that the black hunting party would not be able to keep moving forward. The strength of the ear-splitting noise weakened, and the hound’s baying began to lessen.

Eventually, the horses and their riders began to fade. They changed from midnight black to light grey, then continued on to an even lighter misty dust color. The dogs, horses, and the dead were surrounded by the birds of light. Then they disappeared.

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#rdg #red data girl #rdg 6 #rdg 6 week 25 #rdg my wish on the night of the shooting stars #translation

[glitterrhowell]

Chapter 31

title: Seized

Co-author: fadingcrystalvoid

Pairing:  Daniel Howell & AmazingPhil (Phan

Word count: 1.6k

Warning/Genre: Rape/extreme violence/ depression/PTSD/Degradation/torture/ Non-consensual pretty much everything/Little!Dan/Daddy!Phil/Kidnapping

Summary: It started out as a fun day at the park but it ended in terror. Phil takes his little Dan to the park and while Phil is not looking, Dan suddenly gets kidnapped. What will happen to Dan? Will Phil ever see his boyfriend again? Did Phil have something to do with it? Heavy trigger warning

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Since learning from Phil the reason Dan had reacted so badly to the water, Lela had been keeping an even closer eye on him than normal. It was found out by one of the nurses that apparently this whole time Dan had been in the hospital he had been skipping showers in favor of just washing up in the sink in the bathroom instead. Dan may have been stuck in little mindset, but Lela had to give it to him—he wasn’t stupid. In fact, he’d managed to keep it hidden a lot longer then he should have been.

Dan was still refusing to go anywhere near the shower, but it was something they were working on. In the beginning, she hadn't been able to figure out why he had a problem with the sprinklers and the showers but not the water that came out of the sink, however, she eventually came to the conclusion that it probably had something to do with how the torture was administered. She’d allowed herself a small pat on the back at working out the reasoning behind his fears before the facts were handed to her.

Other than being afraid of the water and the showering problem, Dan was actually doing exceptionally well in his therapy. Dan remembered most of what had happened during the first and second kidnapping and had painted a pretty clear picture for Lela of what had happened. After finally learning the details of the kidnappings she had contacted the police, but they were still pretty adamant that Dan was lying, and that Phil was the real mastermind. She completely regretted contacting the police about Phil though, because she knew—or at least hoped—that he hadn’t had anything to do with any of this. But after a few sessions with her own therapist she realized what she did had been right at the time, and she had Dan's best interest in mind.  

~~~~~~

“So Dan, how are we today?”

“Good!” he answered back happily.

It had become more common to see Dan happy recently. He still had episodes of uncontrollable sobbing or fits of rage—especially after he was told for the millionth time that he could not see Phil—but it had gotten better. Coping skills were something that Lela had been working the hardest on recently, which is probably why Dan seemed much happier. After exploring many different avenues they discovered that Dan responded extremely well to coloring. He currently carried paper and crayons with him everywhere he went, and when he started to feel sad or upset, he’d draw what was troubling him as Lela had instructed. It seemed to do the trick and it has also helped his general therapy progress.

“Do you have any new pictures for me today Dan?” She asked after noticing that he had a few pieces of paper in his hands.

“Yeah, I drew these for you today.”

She took the pages from Dan and flicked through them. Most of were pretty normal pictures of Dan being separated from Phil, but the last one caught her attention. It was a picture of what looked like Dan. He was in what she assumed to be the room he had been kept in one of his kidnappings, but instead of being alone there was another person in the room with him. The drawing was crude and messier than the others, making it hard to distinguish any details.

“Is this Sir?” she asked Dan, pointing to the picture.

Dan shook his head no.

“Well who is it then Dan?” she asked him, confused as to who else it would be.

“I can’t tell you.” he mumbled.

Lela frowned, a bit uneasy at his refusal. “Why can’t you tell me Danny?” she asked, using his nickname in a hope that it would get him to open up.

Dan looked absolutely terrified. “Sir’s said I’m never allowed to talk about it or I would go away just like he did,” Dan whispered.  

It was then that it hit Lela: Dan may not have been Conray and Kide's first or only kidnapping.

She brought her suspicion up to the police and they said they would look into it, but she could tell that they thought she was lying. She had actually been so frustrated with the lack of interest with the police she had actually blown up and shouted at the police officer, which only resulted in him threatening to have her arrested. She continued to try and get more information from Dan, but he refused to acknowledge her when she brought the subject up. But despite the lack of information from Dan, his therapy was still going strong. They had reached the point where he would shower if the spray was very light—more of a mist than anything. The moment it was turned up, however, he would react the same way he had in the canteen.

As well as the small progress with the water he had also made progress in other areas. He was now finally realizing that he didn’t need to be hurt every time someone was upset with him or when he did something wrong. He had also seemed to begin grasping the concept that what had happened to him was not his fault. He still had his bad days where he refused to believe it was anyone’s fault but his, but those days were slowly becoming less and less frequent.  

She hadn’t been able to contact Phil to let him know of Dan’s progress but had been assured by Phil’s mother that she would pass the information along to him. And since Dan was doing so well, Lela thought that he might be able to go home within the next few months provided he continued to do well with his therapy. It had been arranged with Phil’s mum that Dan would be going to stay with her when he did.

This had been decided after a very heated and unpleasant conversation Lela had had with Dan’s own parents; they were under the same assumption of the police that Dan was faking his regression and lying about the whole thing. In fact, they had even had the nerve to tell her that Dan deserved what he had gotten for being the way that he was. The conversation didn’t go anywhere after that as Lela had promptly kicked them out of her office after those ridiculous words.  

She had not heard from them nor had they come back to visit Dan after that. Not that she would have let them see him if they would have shown up, that is. She was afraid it would send him spiraling back and undo the progress they had made. They had made so much good progress that Lela hoped that she could bring Dan out of his regressed state with hypnosis. They weren't quite there yet, but if things kept going like they were, it was a very possible future.

~~~~~

Lela sighed as she walked through the front doors of the hospital. God was she tired . She had ended up staying late last night because one of her other patients, Rick, had tried to commit suicide.  

“Morning Kelly.” She smiled at the young woman behind the nurses’ reception desk.

“Morning Doctor!” she said much too enthusiastically for an early morning like this, but Lela just smiled back, pretending she didn’t want to turn around and go back home to the comfort of her bed.

“How many times have I told you to call me Lela, Kelly,” she teased at the younger.  

“Sorry Doctor- I mean Lela. Most doctors get upset when you use anything other than Doctor when talking to them.”

Lela sighed again—she knew several doctors that thought they were above everyone else and were adamant that they should be treated as such.

“Well, I’m ok with you calling me Lela.”

“Ok Lel-”  

“We have a thirty-one-year-old man with severe head trauma and possible internal bleeding coming into the ambulance bay!” a nurse said, poking her head from around the corner. “They need all the help they can get—come on!”

Kelly sprang into action. “Sorry I have to go!” She sprinted off towards the ambulance bay.

Things like this were normal in a hospital, and even though she was a psychiatric doctor she had still seen her fair share of A&E horrors. Normally she would continue on her way up to her office, but something in her gut told her to stay.

Lela followed the direction the nurses had taken to the ambulance bay but found the new patient being rushed into a surgery room. There were several doctors and nurses that started to frantically work on the young man on the table. Lela tried to get a proper glimpse of the man's face, but was unable to between how fast he was being wheeled away from her and the damage was done to his face. From what she could see the man was lucky to be alive—there wasn’t an inch of skin that wasn’t covered in bruises or blood—he looked absolutely horrific.

“What's the patient's name?” the nurse taking information asked.

“His name’s Philip Lester,” a police officer said, attempting to walk into the room.

“Sir you can’t be back here!” one of the nurses shouted at him.

“This man is coming from penitentiary; it’s my job to stay with him.”

“This man is being prepped for emergency surgery. No outside personnel is allowed in the surgery room. If you want to wait outside you can, but I need you to leave..” she said, pushing him out of the room on her way to fetch something for one of the doctors. The officer grumbled, but he didn't try to enter again and stood off to the side with who was probably his partner.

Lela couldn’t believe her ears; Phil? She attempted to get a better look but was blocked by a nurse.  

“Fucking faggot deserved it.” She heard one of the police officers say to the other.

His uniform identified him as Officer White. She wondered if he had had anything to do with this.  

#dan howell #daniel howell #danisnotonfire #dan howell fanfiction #dan howell fanfic #daniel howell fanfiction #danisnotonfire fanfic #danisnotonfire fanfiction #danisnotonfire fan fic #amazingphil #amazingphil fanfiction #amazingphil fan fic #phil lester #phil lester fanfic #phil lester fanfiction #tw: gore #tw: violence #TW:Rape #tw: torture #tw: trauma #tw:abuse #phan #dip and pip #Dan and Phil #phanfiction #fanfiction #fadingcrystalvoid #seized

[laurasfox-originals]

Box Shaped Heart - Ch. 1

Summary:

Carter Malis thinks he knows exactly when he turned into a self-identified homophobe, and that had to be the moment when Aron Ruskin, his best friend since forever, announced to him that he was going to marry a dude. Great. So there were going to be two Mr. Ruskin’s, and that without counting Aron’s dad.

And here’s this thing. The face staring back from the mirror, the moment he wakes up in a hospital bed, doesn’t belong to him, but to douchebag Alex, aka Aron’s husband. And now he’ll have to talk to Aron, after two years of radio silence.

Chapter One – Waking Up Is Hard To Do

When had it gotten so hard to do such a simple thing as opening his eyes? Carter had a mind to just bring his hands to his eyelids and push them up with his thumbs. That should have done the trick if his hands hadn’t been just as stubborn to move as his eyelids.

This is getting ridiculous, he thought to himself, and, just for the sake of running a minimal test, he tried to move his toes.

That’s better, the far right one seems to move a little, he mused. Yet, it looked like the little exertion had the result of making him feel exhausted.

Drifting off to sleep, he had the weird impression that someone was calling for him.

“Mr. Ruskin,” a voice with a small annoying lilt to it seemed bent on preventing him from getting his well-deserved sleep. “Mr. Ruskin, you really need to wake up.”

Funny thing. His eyelids popped like a can of lager beer on a hot day in July. Not that it was that pleasant to have your eyelids suddenly listen more to a stranger, than to you. At least now he was awake and the annoying voice was going to stop pestering him.

His eyes landed on a round face with beady eyes full of life.

“Mr. Ruskin, you’re awake! I always say that patients need just a little effort to get out of it. Just let me get the doctor. But, first,” the woman, who seemed to wear some kind of white bonnet, matched with equally white attire, started to fret around, “let me show you something.”

At this point, Carter had to admit that curiosity was gnawing at him too badly to stop and think why on Earth he was called Mr. Ruskin. That name sounded familiar, but he was pretty certain it wasn’t his. What was his last name? His brain seemed to be all messed up.

The woman returned with a ... what was that thing called again? Ah, a mirror. Ha, he could still remember simple things. But what was his last name again?

He examined the snake-shaped handle before raising his eyes to look at it. When he did, all he could manage was:

“Damn!”

That mirror had to be magical because his reflection mouthing the word ‘damn’ like it was the least desirable word in the English language didn’t belong to him. It did belong to someone, of course, but not him. And why was this guy staring back at him with such consternation? If there was anyone entitled to feel bereft at the unlikely occurrence that his face was not his anymore, that was him.

“Come on, Mr. Ruskin, don’t frown. All these little scratches will heal up nicely,” the woman stared at him from one side of the mirror, making Carter think that she somewhat looked like a leprechaun. Only that she didn’t wear green, but white overalls.

Wait, wait, wait! His mind screamed at him. He looked around. White walls, white window sills, white door …

All right. He was just going to faint.

“Mr. Ruskin!” the woman called for him from far away, seeming pretty much alarmed.

Well, let her sort this out, Carter thought gloomily, as he drifted away.

***

The second awakening was not that unpleasant. Carter smoothed down a few creases in the blanket. His hands were moving now, and obeying to him, thank heavens, and he didn’t need the nurse – yes, he had gathered that much since he had awoken – to tell him to do this or that. The perspective of living like a lonely puppet on a string, having to obey the squealed orders of an energetic woman, clearly dedicated to her healthcare oriented profession, was just making him shudder in pure horror.

“Could you please show me the mirror again, Miss …?”

Was he supposed to know the nurse’s name? Had he been conscious for more than a minute since he had been brought to the hospital? And what the hell could have happened to put him in the hospital, in the first place?

“Oh, you,” the nurse waved one hand and blushed like she was flattered. “It’s Mrs. Jones, actually, but you can call me Marge. How young did you think I was, Mr. Ruskin?”

He hadn’t exactly thought anything. Marge didn’t seem too put off with his lack of response and dutifully held the mirror.

He inhaled. And exhaled. Instead of his brown hair, the apparition in the mirror had an ash blonde mane styled in a quiff. Damn, he hated that kind of hairstyle. He still wore his brown hair a bit too long for someone in his early 30s, but he didn’t give a damn. Yes, he was pretty damn certain his hair and his eyes were both brown. No, he wasn’t insane. Oh, look, he did remember things. Like, for instance, how he looked. Wait, what if this was some kind of prank, and he was shown not a mirror, but some digital device displaying another person’s face just to make fun of him?

He examined the face in the mirror with a critical eye. Well, two critical eyes that were green and mischievous, instead of his dull ordinary brown eyes. Not that there was something wrong with his eyes. His actual eyes. He didn’t even have to wear glasses most of the time. So, his eyes were pretty much in good working order.

But this guy was a looker. The kind to appear on the covers of magazines. Or maybe not. Maybe except for his perfect face, the rest was flabby and unattractive. He touched his belly, but, no, it didn’t look like the guy currently impersonating him was fat. If anything, he seemed lean to the point of being considered thin.

And there went his prank theory. His body could not have been replaced, like his face in the mirror. Which didn’t mean he was fat. Just certainly with a little bit of meat on his bones, unlike this guy who was trying to pass as him. Or who he was trying to pass as. Damn, things were complicated.

But why was this reflection in the mirror familiar? Where had he seen this guy before? His brain was still in auto mode and could not take basic requests.

“Mr. Ruskin, maybe I should ask the doctor, but he said that you seemed fine if a little tired. All the tests we’ve run on you point out that you’re out of danger,” the nurse began an apologetic tirade, “and I took it upon myself to let your husband in to see you.”

“Husband?!”

Carter would have dropped the mirror, but he was not the one holding it. So he just lay there, his mouth agape, staring at Marge in shock. When the hell had he gotten married? And to a guy?! If this was a nightmare, it was pretty damn fucked up.

“He is a wreck, dear,” Marge’s eyes filled with more than gentleness. They were on the point of swimming in tears. “He had been waiting for you to wake up for two days, now. I doubt he caught any sleep.”

“Wait, my husband? Who is my husband?” Carter squealed.

Great, even his voice was annoyingly pleasant. Even now, high pitched and in shock.

“Well, aren’t you a comedy act, dear?” Marge patted him on the arm, as she tried hard not to laugh. “The other Mr. Ruskin, of course. Aron Ruskin.”

Aron Ruskin? A flash of recognition shot up his addled brain, finally catching up with him. He hadn’t spoken to Aron in two whole frigging years.

***

“Alex!” Aron rushed to his side, pressing him into a careful hug.

He hadn’t seen Aron in two years, either, besides keeping up with the no talking policy. Always done the best to steer clear out of the places where they could have bumped into each other.

“I was so worried, so, so worried,” Aron cradled him in his big arms.

Aron had always been a big guy. Not big in the sense of fat, but well built, with the constitution of an athlete. Many had thought that seeking a career in publishing had not been the smartest move for him. But Aron loved what he did. And he did take care of his body, with the same dedication he did everything else in life.

Right now, he seemed maybe a bit bigger, but maybe it was just because Carter felt so damn small in the guy’s huge arms. That he didn’t remember. He was not as tall or built like a brickhouse, how Aron was, but he had never felt so little and puny. Right now, he felt like a puppet turned into the favorite toy of a giant. He grunted a little, and Aron pulled himself back right away.

“Oh, so sorry, does it hurt badly, baby?” Aron looked at him with concern written all over his handsome face.

“Well, I’m afraid Mr. Ruskin here is a little sluggish, after the little bump,” Marge supplied right away. “We will keep him on pain medication until he recovers a bit more.”

“A little bump?” he asked, moving his startled eyes from Aron to Marge and back again.

“Well, it was more than a little bump,” Aron said while running his fingers through his short jet black hair. There were a few silvers in there that Carter did not remember. “You got hit by a fire truck.”

“Ouch. That must have been unpleasant,” Carter murmured.

Marge burst into laughter, something that was reminding him of a funny hedgehog he had once seen in a cartoon. Clearly, he was in a dream. Except for the whole hospital thing, and the fact that he was apparently married to his former best friend, it wasn’t that much of a nightmare. So he was going to enjoy it, or whatever, just live through it.

“He is such a dear,” Marge commented, as soon as she could breathe again from her fit of laughter. “And he has such a great sense of humor, doesn’t he?” she turned towards Aron.

The man just looked confused.

“Alex? A sense of humor? Sure,” he replied, but Carter could tell Aron was not convinced.

Aron’s dark eyes were inspecting him now, and Carter felt a bit fidgety under that gaze. It felt like Aron was looking at something holy and perfect. Like he was in love. What a stupid dream. All right. So he was Alex, Aron’s husband. Aron and Alex. They sounded like twins. Identical twins, even, although there could not be a more important difference between them, Aron being all hard muscles and strong bones everywhere, and Alex almost as light as a feather.

Skinny asshole, Carter thought to himself. Aron’s face changed from slightly relieved to somewhat worried.

“Can you give him something else for the pain, nurse …?”

“Ah, call me Marge,” the woman replied chirpily. “But he’s already at the full dose as he is, the poor thing, we cannot give him anything more, really.”

“But he’s still in pain,” Aron tried to reason with the nurse slash happy sparrow. “Just look at his face, all contorted like that!”

Carter touched his face with his hands. What was Aron droning about? He felt no pain. But he was probably grimacing at the thought of having Aron looking at him with those lovey-dovey eyes. Yeah, he was probably making a face right now, like he had just eaten half a pound of lemons.

“I’m not in pain,” he intervened, stopping the little quarrel between Marge and his - gosh, he could not really say it, could he? - husband.

“You’re not?” Aron looked at him, fairly surprised.

“No. I’m actually quite okay.”

“Great! That’s great,” Aron sighed with relief.

“Well, it is great,” Marge chirped in. “The other fellow, the poor thing, is in serious condition. He’s still in a coma, and the doctor says he is not bound to get up anytime soon. Although, with a comatose patient, one never knows …”

“What other fellow?” Carter mumbled, feeling cold sweat down his back.

“The other guy who was hit by the same fire truck as you.”

What? Were they hiring blind people to be fire truck drivers these days?

“You don’t remember?” Aron looked at him with concern.

His mind was a mess. No, he could not remember. At least, not right now.

“Nurse, please, stop unloading things like that on my husband,” Aron turned towards Marge, feeling a bit embarrassed and extra concerned right now. “He is clearly not well.”

“No, that’s okay,” Carter intervened again. “Who’s the other guy?” he asked.

Aron opened his mouth to say something. The nurse looked at Aron like she was asking for permission to talk.

“Well, his name is Carter Malis,” Marge finally spoke.

“Carter Malis?!” he almost screamed.

Finally. Now he knew his complete name. Just in case he needed to fill in some registrations or official papers. One just couldn’t walk into the world without a complete name.

“Yes, dear, but please, don’t overexert yourself,” Marge tried to appease him.

“Yes, I know,” Aron looked down, staring at his hands. “What could have been the chances? I haven’t seen him in two years, and now, involved in the same accident as you …”

“Carter Malis?!” he asked again, wanting, no, needing to be told that it was all a mistake, and his ears were playing a trick on him. “Who the hell is Carter Malis?”

What he wanted to declare, screaming, was: I am Carter Malis! If he was here, and Carter Malis was in a coma, that could only mean one thing. That he was on the brink of death while being and feeling very much alive. While someone else was probably trapped in his comatose body.

“You might not remember him that well,” Aron began speaking. “He used to be my best friend. I told you about him.”

Carter’s eyes just glazed over. All right, this was the strangest, most fucked up dream he had ever had.

“You know, the guy ... the homophobe at our wedding,” Aron added, growing more and more embarrassed as he shifted from one foot to the other.

Now Carter stared at Aron and stared without blinking for about half a minute or so. The homophobe? Oh, that. That he remembered.

***

Aron had just come back to their city after building up a career away from home. Carter had been so excited to get together with his longtime friend. He had been pretty lonely since Aron had left, but it was not like he was going to admit it. He was always surrounded by so-called friends. Guys he didn’t particularly like. Not one like Aron. But now that Aron was back, they were going to have so much fun, hitting the bars together, playing basketball in the summer, hockey in winter, and drinking beer, and all that.

Yeah, things had been looking up until Aron, seated across from him in one of their favorite dives, with a few empty beers in front of him, and more on the way had dropped the bomb on him.

“I’m getting married.”

He had said that matter-of-factly, with a bit of determination in the way he had held his palms flat against his thighs.

“Cool,” Carter had replied with a grin. “Who’s the lucky lady? Does she have a hot sister?”

“Actually,” Aron had replied after a few awkward seconds, as he seemed concentrated on peeling the label off of one of the beer bottles on the table, “it’s not a lucky lady.”

“Oh, she’s not lucky?” Carter had grinned, not getting the gist of the matter. “Of course, she’ll be stuck with your ugly mutt face for the rest of her life. Yeah, I get it why she’s not lucky. But what about the hot sister? Any chances?”

“Carter,” Aron had been a bit too forceful in cutting him short. “It’s a … guy I’m marrying.”

If the dive hadn’t been so busy at that hour, Carter was certain he would have been capable of cutting the silence falling between them with a Swiss knife. Or at least poke at it with a spork.

“You’re joking,” he had said flatly. “Right?”

Aron had stared at him, his original awkwardness now turning into something akin to confusion, just a short stop on the way to anger.

“Is that a problem?” he had asked, his eyes trained on Carter.

“Yeah, it’s a problem. You’re not gay!”

A few other patrons had turned to look at them, and Aron had looked at him with reproachful eyes.

“Big news, Carter. It looks like I am because I’m marrying a guy.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Carter had raised both his hands off the table. “Where’s the hidden camera? Who asked you to prank me? Was it your idea? Really, Aron?”

“Carter, there’s no hidden camera,” Aron had slowly shaken his head. “Just your best friend who happens to be gay and in love with another man.”

There had been another shocked silence from Carter. He could not face this. No, it could not be right. So he had just stood up and left.

And seen the two at their wedding, which he had crashed while being terribly and helplessly shitfaced. There the memories were getting a tad blurry. He might have spouted a bunch of homophobic shit until some well-built dudes had dragged him outside and thrown him into the street.

And that had been the last time he had seen Aron until today.

***

“The homophobe?” he repeated like he could not believe it still.

From that moment onward, he had often wondered how come he had had no idea he was such a bigot. He could not care less if half the male population on the planet was fucking the other half in the ass. But Aron was a totally different thing. The guy could not be gay. That was just plain fucking wrong. So maybe he was a homophobe only when it came to Aron. Otherwise, he could face an entire pride parade, and maybe even join in for a dance or two.

“Yes,” Aron confirmed, with a tired sigh. “Will it bother you if I go and check on him? He … there is just no one close that could visit him at the moment, that’s all.”

“No, of course not,” he mumbled.

Aron was staring at him like he could not make sense of him. Not of Carter. Of Alex. Because Carter was apparently in a coma, with no high chances of getting up anytime soon.

“I thought you hated him,” Aron spoke softly.

“Well, the guy’s in a coma. What’s he going to do? Get up from the bed just to give me a thrashing? Hey, maybe that can be motivation enough for him to get up off his sick bed,” he said brightly.

Marge burst into laughter again. Funny how funny everything seemed to her. Carter wanted nothing else but to go see the body. His body. Well, it was not like he was dead. Just partially.

“I’m coming with you,” he tried to get out of bed, and this time Marge hurried to push him back in the bed.

“Don’t worry, I’ll check on him,” Aron said, blinking like he could still not understand what was going on.

“No way, I’m going with you,” he began fretting while trying to fight the nurse off. “Marge, I swear, this IV pointy thing will hurt,” he struggled with the small tube hooked into his hand.

Marge pushed his hand away from the other with a quick move and he dropped back on the pillows, with a loud groan. Apparently, he was so weak that he could not even fight a woman. Jeesh.

“Mr. Ruskin, play nice,” she chided him.

“What? I’m no longer ‘dear’ to you?” He jibed.

“You are a dear only when you don’t threaten me with the catheter,” Marge replied dutifully.

“Ah, is that how this is called?” Carter took a look at his hand and examined it carefully. Hmm, it looked like he even had a manicure. “I thought that was the thing that goes into your ...” he swallowed his words, thinking that spouting four-letter words in front of such a nice, yet devious, lady in white, was not exactly advisable.

“When you get better, we’ll go together to see him,” Aron promised him. “If you still want to, of course.”

“Then I should just get better soon,” he said and crossed his arms over his chest, as much as the IV tube was letting him.

“Stop frowning, dear. It will give you wrinkles,” Marge chided him, seemingly more concerned with his complexion and youthful appearance than anything else. That was highly unprofessional of her.

“So what?” he replied.

“So what?!” both Marge and Aron said together in shock.

Oh, right. Alex was some face lotion ad star or something. Great. He was stuck in the body of a total douche who thought his looks were enough to get him everything in life. Including an awesome guy like Aron, as a husband. Who was surely, undoubtedly, completely straight.

Alex must have used some magic on Aron. That was the only explanation. Seeing how he could switch bodies with Carter, just like that, that had to be it. Alex was Harry Potter. A gay Harry Potter. Or something.

TBC

You can read up to ch. 9 of this story on my Patreon.

 https://www.patreon.com/laurasfox

#box shaped heart #laurasfox #my original fiction #m/m romance #M/M novel #body swap #men loving men

[memesdefinewhoiam]

Eldarya Fanfiction-Far from justice

*If anyone has any request of a scenario for me to write about eldarya, or even mcl I’d gladly write it. That’s if you like the way I write...I’m trying my best believe me and any constructive criticism is deeply appreciated. Also, I’m not a native english speaker, so excuse me for any spelling mistakes*

I don’t even know how this mini story came into my mind, but I needed to write it down because it was eating away at my soul. This is a scenario where our beloved Gardienne *Erika* comes gravely wounded from a mission and Ezarel doesn’t know what he feels more-anger, sadness or desperation. If any of you are sensitive to subjects like emotional pain and near death/death situations, I suggest you stop reading.

Ezarel hissed in annoyance for the fortieth time that day when he reached the Hall of Doors and saw that for some unknown reason, there was a loud crowd forming there, preventing him from reaching his beloved working place. He tried pushing his way through, receiving glares and not so nice words from the people he bumped into. He listened in on the conversations around him, hoping to identify the reason for this "gathering". From what he knew, no one important was supposed to visit these days and Miiko wasn't making any announcements, so what was happening?  "-so very late. What could have possibly delayed them 3 days?" A girl that he recoginsed belonged to the Obsidian Guard mumbled with a frown. 

"I've heard that there was an attack-" her partner responded in an intense voice, but Ezarel didn't manage to hear the rest of the exchange.

Curiosity built up inside of him and instead of going to his lab like he planned to, he started making his way to the front to see what was happening. His eyebrows furrowed while he walked, taking in all the curios, frightened and infuriated voices that kept bickering. 

"-definitely a mistake to send her there" "-badly injured-"

His heart beat faster and faster for some reason, a sensation close to suffocation. He elbowed an astonished couple out of the way, finally being able to find out what all the fuss was about. But the image that stood before him was far from his expectations of a surprise visitor or a last minute notice.

A few higher up's from the guard, which he immediately recognized, were rushing back and forth, helping a group of people that was sent on an innocent mission two weeks ago. It was just the resigning of a resources distribution and utilization treaty, nothing too complicated, but clearly important. Nevra, Leiftan,a representative of economics and Erika were sent on that mission in hopes of completing it easily and without any distractions. Despite the girl's relatively short stay in Eldarya, she was proving to be quite an educated, formal and well-spoken -things that the blue haired elf still had a hard time to admit out loud- young lady, so Miiko and the rest didn't see any reason not to send her on this harmless operation. But the scene in front of Ezarel clearly told him otherwise.

He spotted Nevra and the ambassador immediately, both of them were covered in bruises and small amounts of blood and were clearly tired. They were being checked up on by one of the nurses, although they didn't seem to have any critical injuries. His eyes scanned the rest of the people worriedly in a desperate search and thats when they landed on two figures. He froze, a chill running down his spine.

The blonde and tall member of the Light Guard stepped into the room without his usual grace, his once white and green clothes were mudded and covered in blood and his eyes had a regretful look to them, but that's not what drew the attention and shock of Ezarel. It was the slim figure Leiftan was carrying in his arms that took his breath away in a completely unpleasent manner. She lay there, unmoving, her face holding a pained expression and her brown hair caked in blood. A silver arrow was protruding from her chest.

The elf inhaled sharply, an unknown feeling taking over him. He couldn't describe it into proper words. It was a mixture of physical and emotional pain, sadness, regret and the most prominent-anger. He didn't even realize when he reached Leiftan and took Erika from his arms with the utmost care, like he was handling a very fragile potion that could be compromised easily. In spite of his usual unwillingness to touch, he wanted to feel her close to him, to protect her from any more dangers that might come her way.

Everything was kind of a blur, although he truly wanted to be calm in this dire situation. He heard a distant and familiar voice telling him something urgent, but his green eyes remained locked on her face, searching for a sign that she's still conscious. Her eyes barely fluttered open, only for him to catch a glimpse of her pained and terrified purple orbs.

"Ezarel! Take her inside the clinic, NOW!" The same voice that spoke earlier commanded more loudly and desperately, jolting him awake from his momentary daze.

He turned to look towards the owner of the voice that now pressed a firm hand on his shoulder. Ewelein. Her usual calm face was nowhere to be found, being replaced by a look of deep concern. She pointed with her chin in the direction of the infirmary and Ezarel looked down at the wounded girl in his arms before rushing to give her the proper medical attention along with the blue-skinned elf and her assistants.

He gently laid her down on the operation bed, swiping away the hair that threatened to cover her entire face. He then backed away with a shake of his head and a last look at Erika's shivering form, letting the medical experts do their jobs.

"I'll do anything I can to save her, Ez." The words were meant to soothe him, but they only made him feel powerless and enraged with life itself. What did the poor girl do to deserve all of this?

He made his way back down into the crowd, approaching the rest of the team that was sent on the mission, measuring all of them up with a heated glare, although the elf knew deep down that the girl's wounds weren't their fault, but he seriously needed someone to throw his nerves on. And who could have been a better subject than the great Leiftan, who lately took a deep interest for Erika, swearing to protect her and flirting with her every chance he got. Where was he when she got hurt?

Ezarel stood furiously next to a concerned Miiko, waiting for the medical assistants to finish bandaging and checking up on them. Everyone was curious to finally learn what went wrong with the mission, but of course that the Chief wanted a private meeting first before announcing anything to the rest of the crowd. So when it was concluded that none of them had suffered any real injuries except small bruises, they all went in the Crystal Room.

It was a mess to say the least. The details weren't clear, they didn't know who exactly attacked them, just that when they stayed at the inn to reestablish the terms of the agreement, a bunch of people threatened and accused Erika of being a spy for the humans that want to take over Eldarya. A very heated argument took place, Nevra and the owner of the inn being the ones to stop it. On their way back from the mission, they got ambushed by what they guessed were the same group that harassed Erika because she was the main target of their attacks.  Once they hit her with an arrow, they were quick to disperse.

"I tried my best to keep her out of harm's way, but they outnumbered us and-" Leiftan tried to explain, but was interrupted by one of Ezarel's sarcastic and rude remarks. "Yeah, great job you did there, big boy"

The Light Guard member threw him a cold look, but the elf was completely unaffected by it. His sorrow was so deeply mixed with anger that it became confusing.

"Maybe you should have been there to properly protect her-!" Leiftan retorted, being once again stopped mid sentence by the elf. "Huh, and here I thought you always go around promising on your life to protect someone and then failing." 

That seemed to hit a nerve, but Miiko quickly intervened before things could escalate any further. "Ez, I know that you are very upset, but your remarks bring no help at all, they only worsen our predicament. The boys did all they could in that fight. Unless you can hold back your sharp tongue, I suggest you wait for any updates on Erika's health outside."

The blue haired man stormed out, mumbling a few cusses on the way and throwing them all a glare. He sat down on a chair right outside the Infirmary, his face shadowed by his long hair as his thoughts consumed him.

She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, being transported in a world that she knew nothing about and finding out that returning home was hardly an option anymore. Almost everyone, including himself, had treated her badly in the beginning, even coming to the unbelievable decision of making her entire human world forget about her even though she was hardly a threat and only acted nicely towards everyone. He would never forgive himself for that, no matter how many years will pass over him. And now this happened. She got attacked only because of what a part of her race was trying to do. His heart ached because of the surprising empathy he was feeling. She was one of the best of her kind, full of compassion and love and righteousness and they tried to kill her for it. It wasn’t any justice in that. What kind of people would harm someone like her? But he also hurt her on a whole other level emotionally. He ran a hand through his now messy blue hair, in order to calm his nerves.

Ezarel sighed with such disappointment and stress, that everyone threw him sympathetic looks, knowing that his feelings for the girl ran far deeper than even he would like to admit.

He wanted to see her again so badly, to tease her and laugh with her at the stupidest things. To get lost in her purple and unusually stunning eyes and to notice that blush she gets every time she stands too close to him. Her way too nosy and friendly personality, always eager to learn. Death seemed like such an abrupt and tragic ending of a story that only just began. Then again, life was hardly fair for anyone. He laughed bitterly. He would actually miss her nasal voice calling him a moron.

The door opened next to him and he immediately jumped up from his seat in a rush to ask about her, but he stopped, his world falling apart in just a second seeing the look of sorrow on Ewelein's face and the tears threatening to spill from her blue eyes. His light didn't make it.

#eldarya #ezarel #nevra #leiftan #angst #erika #gardienne #sad #idk what im doing #please leave me feedback #beemov