jagged path

Motivated

Just wanted to put this out there. Writing it softened the blow of tonight’s episode. Wow, what a ride.


When there is something that motivates a person, rather it be a cause or a person or a goal, something that drives you to make a difference not only in your own life but in the lives of an entire city, that motivation defines you, it makes you a better person, a better friend or lover, a better husband or wife, a better man or woman. It makes you a better hero.

Oliver recognized this the first time he stepped away from his father’s list and saw that the whole city needed saving. It wasn’t just about stock portfolios and bank accounts,(as Felicity pointed out to him) it was about giving the citizens of Starling City the comfort of going about their daily lives without the threat of harm or darkness.

**

On the island, Oliver was motivated solely by surviving. Every day was a challenge for him. He went from a person who always had everything given and explained and resolved for him, to someone that was completely thrown into chaos and violence and the uncertainty if he would live or die. Basics needs like food, water, shelter and rest—they were luxuries he felt would never be a part of his life again. He experienced real loss, perhaps for the first time, when his father killed himself. Because of the shock and grief from that act, Oliver could not have imagined then that Robert’s death would be the first in a long line of traumas ahead for him. Also, for the first time, Oliver was completely alone, with no skills to survive.

That first year on the island, Oliver reminded me of Moses wandering in the desert, stripped of his humanity and privilege and purpose. The island was Oliver’s perdition. He was any empty vessel searching for a reason to keep living.

He needed motivation.

**

In that first year, key people came into Oliver’s life—Yao Fe, Slade Wilson, Shadoe; and later, Anatoli the return of Sara.

Yao Fe taught Oliver the concepts of loyalty, of when and what was worth fighting and dying for. He taught Oliver about survival, the ultimate kind. Oliver took that lesson and began to teach himself how to survive in harsh conditions.

Slade Wilson taught him how to fight physically. He taught Oliver the idea of brotherhood and camaraderie, how to work together as a team. The irony of these lessons would come back to haunt Oliver a few yearslater , birthed by the Dr. Ivo events.

Shadoe taught him how to use a bow, the discipline and practice it takes him to aim and shoot straight (he slapped a lot of water to learn this.)

She also taught Oliver about love, the romantic kind. It was compassion and tenderness and heartfelt—all the more when experiencing it in a pond on tropical island.

Anatoli taught Oliver about perseverance and comradeship. He taught him gratitude and the price of favors and promises.

And Sara? Well, when they met up again, she had developed her own burgeoning survival skills. She taught Oliver that sometimes making hard choices can be impossible. The choice Oliver made in saving Sara instead of Shadoe was purely instinct. Or maybe he was just standing closer to Sara. When Ivo pulled the trigger and killed Shadoe, everything Oliver had been taught up to that moment died with her. I think it might have been the first time he thought to himself—what is the point of being strong, of being a fighter and a lover and a brother, if I can’t protect those close to me. A few years later, Felicity asked him what would be the point if he lost himself in the process? In that moment when Shadoe died, Oliver was already lost, not just in the process but in his life. The morality and personal growth and voice of conscious that Felicity was talking was a dead body lying at his feet.

But out of that tragedy, Oliver felt a new motivation.

Anger.

**

Sidenote: For the life of me, I could not remember the names of Masao’s wife and son. I drew a completed blank. I didn’t have time to look them up. I apologize for this discrepancy.)

The next stage in Oliver’s search for motivation was Hong Kong. It was there he learned about the importance of family.

Masao and his wife and son were the fulcrum of this lesson. Amanda Waller and Argus furthered Oliver’s skills as a weapon by darkening his character with assassination and torture. Even though Masao worked for Waller, he was the first person in Oliver’s odyssey who started to believe in him. After Oliver shook off the trauma he went through on the island and started to get involved in the well-being of Masao’s family, Oliver learned another concept—having a purpose. We saw for the first time his attempt to not only save Masao and his family, but an entire city from the virus that dickhead General intended to unleash. Oliver risked his life for this purpose. But he also lost more of his humanity by torturing and killing dickhead.

After Masao’s son died, Oliver found another motivation.

Pain.

 

**

It is still to be shown the final outcome of Oliver’s time in Russia and whatever motivation he may have found before he returned back to the island, and then home to Starling City. But when he did return, all those things he was taught, they bent and forged and shaped him into a newer purpose—to right his father’s wrongs. He was a lethal weapon with a signature goal, to eradicate the criminal element that was corrupting his city. Yes, in that first year back, Oliver was dark and scary, but he had learned that helping people, no matter if had to kill, maim or otherwise, brought him the satisfaction of accomplishment.

Oliver found the motivation for that purpose.

Justice.

**

The final pieces to Oliver’s of chosen journey was John DIggle and Felicity Smoak.

They were the incarnation of those hard earned lessons Oliver learned while he was away. They were the finalization of those realities called brotherhood, camaraderie, team—and most importantly, love. They helped him to shape the angry, violent man born on Lian Yu into the compassionate, dedicated and focused person that instilled awe.

Oliver found in John a warrior, a hero and a lifelong brother. He found a morality that was at first alien to him, but became a compass he would steer by going forward. He found in John someone who would never lie or lead Oliver astray, someone who would provide truth, even if that truth is painful.

And in Felicity, Oliver found the kind of love that goes so deep, nothing could ever overpower it and take it from him. Her tech savvy, her charm and wit, her intelligence, her beauty and her great capacity to love completely—gave Oliver a look into the kind of man he could and would become. Felicity was the lesson Shadoe taught him about caring for someone—times infinity. Oliver might have to go hungry and thirsty again, he might not have shelter to protect him from harsh elements. He might even get so weary that not even rest would make a difference. But his love and trust and need for Felicity gives him the ability to survive. Like Thea told him—love, in spite of it all, is what makes life precious. Felicity is why he takes a breath. It’s why he opens his eyes each morning and appreciates being alive. She is his search for beauty and she is that beauty. She is the light in the dark and it will always lead him back home.

And that is Oliver’s lasting motivation.

Love.

*

So Oliver has come a long way on this journey. Sometimes he can get in his own way. He can still disappoint and hurt and even betray those he loves. He’s not perfect. But he can also bring happiness and strength and peace to those in his life who might sometimes lose their way. From the jagged path he started on to the light of survival and redemption and hope, Oliver Queen: the Man, the Mayor, the Green Arrow and the Hero; that is what motivates a whole city to be stronger and kinder and empathic, to have love for their fellow man/woman.

This is why he will survive Adrian Chase. This is why he will come back.

He is still motivated to make a difference.

@hope-for-olicity @louiseblue1 @almondblossomme @tdgal1 @dmichellewrites @scu11y22 @arrows-4ever @swordandarrow @jamyjan

hubble's law of expansion

(a/n) for the @tmntflashfic theme 011: april! takes place in the space pirates au! multichapter



Her world is dyed in red, and the spinning ruby luminaries dance across her too wide eyes, glossy and far away out into other galaxies; April hears only a faint buzzing in her head, and the ringing pierces her like the smoke in her eyes.

It’s wisps puff out in  black plumes like chalk dust and ash, and the smooth swirls of smoke break apart but April isn’t really April because this isn’t real- she’s watching herself in warped time and bent reality where this is all just happening, where she is still, where Donnie is, in front of her, yelling.

He’s right here but she’s not, and April tries to take a breath just as her footing shifts; she can only stare at the hole of space ahead of her, past where Donnie screams, stumbling forward to her. She wants to tell him to stay away as sparks trickle from the ceiling to the floors around her but she can’t look away from those planets just beyond.

“-o Apr-! Go!”

April cuts her eyes away to the sound and her world- it comes colliding into place, into a kaleidoscope of blood and fire and smoke and sparks and stars, the sounds clashing into her. Senses heightening, April hears the alarms blaring and the canons and the screaming.

She looks back to find Donnie and he’s so close;  he kisses her head.

“Donnie…wha-” she coughs and he kisses her forehead again, taking her sweat and soot with him.

She tries to ask him again, but he puts a mask on her, hands her his blaster and before he can grab her April starts screaming, kicking him away, “No…n-” the mask tastes like plastic air, tastes like dying and coming alive all at once in the moment Donatello shoves her into the pod, the glass sliding closed to separate them.

And April kicks it- the doors, the glass, the lock- choking on her saliva and snot and tears. “Donnie- no, no…No, Donnie lemme- let me out-!”

He says something through the glass and smiles, breathing fog onto the window, he traces the letters with shaking, bloodied fingers.

c u later k

And he points to the hole, to those stars and planets straight past him.

She gets lost in them, for a moment she’s not April and this is her glimpse at the possibility.

But those planets get further- and so does Donnie and the ship.


April tries to yell for him, but her breath is sucked away as she plummets away.


A cannon shoots through the center of the ship and it breaks apart, into a million shards of metal and crystal and fire and her pod flies through space, away from the flames that swallow themselves up, reflecting in her bright eyes until her breath is snatched again.


“Have you guys ever tried Murakami’s - or…anything besides pizza, algae and worms?” April raises her hand up eyes softly closed, “Mikey this is strictly rhetorical- I don’t wanna know. But I mean, c’mon pizza is not…life-”

Mikey gasps and falls over the side of the couch, “That’s waaaay harsh, sister…tell ‘er she’s dead wrong, Raph.”

Raph hits the punching bag, sending it swinging, and catches it against him, grinning at her, “Look, does it look like we have a diet problem, O’neil? Besides we don’t just eat pizza,” he says, steading the bag again.

“Yeah,” Mikey picks himself up, and starts sharpening knives for the fun of it, “We like…had pizza rolls a couple’a times so-”

April stops listening, even as Mikey keeps talking because she can’t hear a thing, her eyes going white- there’s a buzzing…a knocking she can’t-


April likes things that fly; she wants to believe she always had. Because things that flew- they were just so bizarre and wonderful. They were free, but weren’t really- they had compasses and maps and calculations in their hearts that led them back to wherever they just had to be.

She lays there, looking at the light and the sky, and the little flying thing that pecks and knocks at the glass of her pod.

“Morning…” April says out of a hoarse voice, throat sore and torn.

Leo would tell her to get away from it before she caught an infection or something; he was always worried about that kinda stuff. And remembering that brings a certain kind of pain, spreading through her chest. The thing flies away and April almost resents it for leaving her alone here.


She’s alone.


She’s alone- she’s alone and her family isn’t here and the ship is gone and they’re too far away, they shouldn’t be that far from her- from here.

April gasps, forcing herself to take a breath and another, watching her breath fog up the cracked glass, and she watches it recede and dissolve and she counts how many time she breathes and she pinches her eyes closed and feels sick.

And suddenly the world- this world- seems to come alive around her, in front of her, above her, and April senses the life of it, listens to noise of it, letting the sensations flood back into her in technicolor. Everything is a blend of greens and blues and overgrown life; somewhere, very distant, is the sound of water hitting the rocks. And if April closes her eyes and undoes her tightened fingers, she can convince herself that in the sounds is her family.

But that’s meaningless now, she tells herself as she unjams the latch, stepping out (screaming as she smashes the rest of the glass  with her- no…no it’s not her’s, this is donnie’s- blaster), sinking to her knees in the glowing soil. Because her family is dead, right with the best parts of her. And it’s just the worst thing ever- being trapped and alone and April hates herself for letting them spare her.

She presses her forehead against the pod, and thinks that Leo probably never gave the command a second thought- to have Donnie take her and shoot her into another sector. And he probably told them all to go, determined to go down swinging, but his brothers- Casey- they stayed anyway because that’s how things had to work. They didn’t know how else to work. And Donnie’s eyes- when he just knew that they all were going to be murdered and she was gonna be safe, his bloodied hand against the glass and Mikey stumbling behind him without an arm-

April heaves, dragging her head down the pod, curling inward.


“Oh...god-” she clenches her fist, her frizzy, curly red hair twining with her fingers, and she spit on the ground.


Mikey needs his arm, April thinks, dizzily, he’s their best shot. She tries to remember which one was missing, and if Raph was there too when something crawls up her thigh. Raph would hate that, April smiles shakily and turns, back against the side of the pod, and draws her knees up to her chest, looking out into the landscape.

She was under some kind of canopy, a blanket of interwoven plants with enough spaces for light to flood in, and crystallized rocks broke through the branches in certain places where the plants were black and purple and it was beautiful and it sucked because April hated it.

She grips the hilt of her Sulvarian blade, and carves a line into the pod.


There are no more flying things when April wakes next, nor is there light besides the neon luminaries in the soil, that trailed along the ground like paths- like stars, like galaxies, like all those wonderful things. When she steps down, they disappear under her gravity boots, and the little space around them.

The colors are nearly entrancing as they dance a little in the ground.

April looks around, finding everything unchanged in the darkness. She scouts out the land and finds no creatures, part of her wishing something would just jump out already and try to kill her so she could shoot it dead at her feet, eat something, and not feel so alone on this planet- waiting for something to rip her apart.

In the canopy above her, the plants rustle, almost catching april off guard. And she doesn’t mean to sound so bloodthirsty in her own consciousness, in her thoughts, but she was anxious and so afraid and she needed to fight- because that’s what they always did, to ward off the bad energy and the ugly, darker thoughts. They fought. She tightens her hand around the blade, the grooves in the hilt glowing along with the lines going up her suit, and despite the damage in it, April raises her hand to her face, carefully pressing into her temple until her cracked helmet slides out (halts a few times till she hits against it) encasing her face in a screen. And the world is tinted yellow, the words flashing across the screen, reflecting in April’s eyes as she read over the scans.

There is nothing here. Just plant life and fancy, glowing dirt and misery and bugs.


April groans, stashing her blade away, “Get it together O’neil- ‘s just a breeze…or some…thing.”  


April is accustomed to fear, and she knows how to channel that into something fierce and hungry and a little overconfident, so she lets her bravado swell up a bit in the assurance that she had a blade, her blaster, technique and too much energy. And that this was a dying planet; the ooey tendrils of black on the branches and rocks that she presses her fingers against speak of its slow-burn death in little whispers as April begins to breathe, and feel the planet’s energy. She pushes deeper and deeper and deeper into the core, feeling the flutters of life trying and of some fight warring so greatly beneath the lull of warm glow in the nighttime and swaying plants. And further into the world, her third eye peers into why, pulling and stretching and yanking at the hidden things and their layers.

April reaches for the heart, as the tension builds up and something claws its way up to her and she’s close to it- can feel it ripping- when April is pulled from the sensations, and slammed to the ground, the lights dissipating from beneath her, spreading like lightning in jagged paths across the dirt.

April blinks away the blur in her vision, biting down from the way her bones and muscles pull tight and finds herself pinned between legs, her arm held down under someone’s knees.

And their eyes are so wide April almost loses her focus in girth  them, deciphering the meaning in them. Her skin, concealed in the darkness holds hues of indigo, and absorb the fairy lights around them. And the sound of the nighttime become only their intertwining breaths, heavy and uneven; still, April doesn’t even think to grab her weapon because something like amazement keeps April beneath her- this alien of blue and dark purple and black woven hair that fell over her shoulders and hung in April’s face, those luminescent creatures spiraling up her braids.

Her curious wonderment makes April’s brows rut and, briefly, she wonders if this is the way she’s meant to die: horribly amazed by something so intricately beautiful and blinded that she couldn’t even foresee her own death. Qich would be a shame, April says in her thoughts, as the alien pulls out a metal spear from its holster behind her back, because April really did want to get to look at her for a lot more seconds or minutes (or hours or days).

But she prepares to die now and maybe find her family in the other plane of existence saying this is it, April. This is how you die. Now stop being so afraid of it; you should’ve been a better person! until the alien (warrior queen boss looking alien) proceeds to yell very loud- which doesn’t help the way April’s brain feels like it’s been set on fire and then stomped on several thousand times but- and jumps up from her, promptly stabbing, tackling and wrestling a huge, wild beast.


The display in and of itself was pretty damn remarkable as far as April was concerned, as she sat up, nit sure if running away would be best. And there are a billion things on her mind like: gosh you’re stunning kinda, or: hey so are we alone here, or even: would you happen to have a holomap on you by any chance- i may have lost my friends a few sectors back. But April’s throat won’t push the words out and every time she tries its jumbled and the alien, fresh from a kill with the creature’s blood dripping down her arms, looks at her with narrowing eyes and a complicated, unreadable kind of twist to her lips.


Then her lips move and April is back into her own skin, back into her senses.


And for the first time in too, too long- April is laughing, and it’s quiet and it rolls off her tongue like honey- so sweet and thick and rich she almost gags on it. The sound is almost foreign to her.

But another sound all the same, and just as strange to her, tickles her ears.

“X’vhkl? O…lft’zes. Lft’zes u wen’ju olkrsp?” she says, stepping till their distance is gone, leaning into April, cocking her head.

“Svxtl.”

April stumbles back, mouth pulling into an awkward half grin, “Um…yes? No…no, okay. Look-”

“Svxtl,” she repeats, spreading her palm against April’s chest, her eyes lighting up, growing wide with an eager smile, “Jhanna…” 

The marks in her skin begin to illuminate in soft blues as she smiles brighter, her hand still over April’s slow rising chest.

April, somehow unafraid, feels warmth spill into her, blossoming throughout her aching body and she can’t quite look away from her eyes, and that smile and that glow dusting parts of her skin that made Jhanna look very much like a constellation of all the most magnificent stars.

But god April was just so tired, and she would never try to explain the feeling before she sinks to the sparkling dirt.


The third time April wakes up she knows exactly what’s going on, she’s also pretty much done with this shit, and seriously just wants to tell, the universe it freaking won already and if this was some godawful, cruel punishment for agreeing to blow up Sibith’s capital federation building with Casey and Donnie then fine. 

But her voice is still tight and it hurts to think and the alien (no, it’s jhanna now. which means they’re acquainted. which, in turn, means she wont kill april- basically. probably.) is standing over her, hair pulled back now, her lips parted in what just might have been a little concern.


“I had to absorb some of your energy to understand your language,” Jhanna says, conversationally and extends a hand, “I apologize- I became distracted.” she looks down at April, “But I will not kill you, if you are not convinced…”


April coughs, squinting up at her with what she hopes looks intimidating and pissed- because she is, “Well-” she grunts, pushing herself off the ground, “It may come as like- a total shocker but…you throwing me down, oh and drinking my energy-? Honestly, it’s not that convincing,” April grumbles, brushing the dirt from her face till it smears.

And Jhanna watches her- like she’s been watching her- cleaning off the blood on her spear with the sleeve of her skintight, very, very nice suit, looking a whole lot less eager than she did when she was sucking energy out of April but maybe they’re just both tired right now and the swell of heat that rises by the river they’re at doesn’t help, of course, and then there’s other factors April doesn’t give a shit about anymore.


“I did not intend to take that much-”

“Yeah well you kinda d-”

“Qildif!” Jhanna throws her spear down, taking a step closer, and April balls her fist to stop from flinching, “I could have left you to the Beirk when you nearly gave my position but I choose to- I saved your life-”

“I could have taken care of myself, thanks-”

Jhanna scoffs, arms crossing, fingers gripping her biceps, “You are an earthling-”

“I am not. An earthling! Ugh, god what is your problem?” April says, plucking dirt off her sleeves. She glares at her, cradling her sore arm, “I’m for sector 29G-17, only my memories of some stupid counterpart are from, Earth and the only people that would even began to get what I’m saying are probably- shit, I dunno- light years away from here or…and I’m not from Earth, alright? Jeez…”

And April doesn’t know why she cares or why any of this matters or why her eyes sting or why Jhanna’s face softens, her muscles relaxing as she kneels, gathering her spear.

“Well if you want to get back to your sector- there are only two ways off of Omatran,” she says, rewrapping the vines around middle, “Unless, of course, you wish to hijack a ship…”

April hides her small smiles from Jhanna’s knowing eyes that flicker over to her, studying the falter in her indignation before smiling coyly too, turning her attention back to wrapping her spear.

“Now,” she starts again, patiently, “The typical way any Omatran leaves this world is through the slave transport ships heading to Galamora- the next transport is at the end of this Drepton. Others…they fight the Omatran gladiators.” Jhanna pauses, lowering her weapon, laying it gently against the ground, “No one has made it out that way. It is…impossible.”

“Nothing’s impossible…” April says, in a low, quiet murmur like there’s nothing in this world but her- like she needs to know this. Jhanna breathes deeply, untying her hair, and April takes cautious steps to get near her, unsure if she should, and kneels beside her, “Nothing- Jhanna,” she says again, her fingers twitching.

“The Ulysses Crew doesn’t give up…that’s our motto- was…our-” her brow furrows as she holds emotion in, “A-and…nothing is impossible, okay?”

Jhanna’s lips tug into something small and and hopeful and that- is enough for April.


“We’ll get outta here- we’ll…steal a ship-”

“I cannot do that,  I am afraid,” Jhanna sighs, lifting her eyes from the fire to April’s, “My people need this resistance- I must lead them into this.”

April drops the Beirk’s meat into the flames, pushing her frizzy hair behind her ears, scraping dry blood.

“Okay- so plan b, then.”


April is well acquainted with plan b’s (and c’s and d’s and f’s and-) and this, is no different, because she’s escaped other pirates and thieves and correctional facilities and planets and even her own, heavy, suffocating emotions- all to get back to her family. She’ll do it again and again and again until she’s there. With them.


She pretends she doesn’t notice the admiration in Jhanna’s stare, and fights the urge to grin confidently because she is confident- somehow. Somehow losing everything, or not knowing just how much you’ve lost- not knowing how much of that loss you can take- makes you wanna fight until you can’t breathe anymore, to get it all back. And April is still raw with loss and pain, and suppresses it when she can because she won’t feel this until she’s giving her last breath.

Jhanna pokes at the roasting meat, her gaze lost, “You are a good companion,” she says, barely above a whisper as she turns to April with a ghost of a smile, “And very talkative.”

With a gasping laugh that bursts out as naturally as anything she’s felt here- now- April shoves Jhanna, their heads falling back in brittle, bubbling laughter, their hair of different shades twining as the strands graced the neon lights in the blades of grass.


When Jhanna shoves back and April falls over on her side and doesn’t care that it kinda hurt a lot, a mutual understanding happens, to add to the fascination of each other’s differences and April knows that when she steps out of the world and embarks on her journey to find her family and their Ulysses- she wants Jhanna to be there with her.


April drags her blade through the shuttle pod for the third time.

The days were longer here, than in her sector, and the nights seemed even longer still. Jhanna slept a few hours, April definitely crashed for maybe five and in between shifts, when one would wake the other, they exchange small glances that said so many things.

In Jhanna’s eyes, before they closed and she would sleep, April saw trust and under the layers of trust, and conflict and sorrow and fear, is the soul of someone who needed another someone.

April thinks- and, god, maybe she’s crazy for it- somewhere, that she could be that another someone.  


“Yes, Jhanna-” April shoots at a Trylthor soldier, imported from Trylth to round up the poor onto the ships, and watches the blast burst through him and burn a hole in the chest of the soldier behind him, “I can shoot- well trained, actually.”

The attack came suddenly, when both of them had drifted off to sleep under a canopy of falling, dying leaves, and well trained was most likely an overstatement compared to the way Jhanna twirled into battle flawlessly, gun in one hand and a spear in the other.

“Very well,” Jhanna shouts, over the blasts and ruins crumbling down into the water, and ducks, impaling another soldier’s neck, “A’iztc!” she cries throwing the body off of her an into two more guys that April kinda felt awful for, with the way their skulls hut against the rocks.

And more lasers and bullets graze her suit and blood splatters her the mask of her helmet but April charges in with a smirk and the bravado of a (hell yeah she was well trained and deadly and fearsome) warrior, slicing through the fleet of soldiers like second nature.

Out of the corner of her eyes she watches Jhanna take down the last of them, a burn in her shoulder through her jacket and wonders what Leo would say, or how proud Raph would be.

She almost stumbles, thinking.

She can’t think; that’s how people die.

She feels like dying, like killing like crying.

In the middle of the fray, Jhanna falls down and April goes red and then there’s nothing and she lets out the worst of her feelings.

When it’s all over, and when April feels like she can breathe, everyone is dead and there’s a head in her hands, eyes still open and unseeing- and she’s alone again.

Scratch that. She’s not.

Because now she has Jhanna.


They don’t know what to do with the bodies, so they let them rot and move on. April doesn’t know to where, really, and doesn’t care about the bodies either. The ground can have them now.

Jhanna tells April, as April’s fingers trace the burn on her shoulder, that she’s a warrior.

“You would fit well into my kingdom,” she laughs, weakly from blood loss, tilting her head a little, as April dabs water onto her wound, “Once this is all over- finally. I would like to appoint you.”

April grins, eyes fixated keenly on the marks and the rivulets of blood running down Jhanna’s back, making tracks of read into the grooves of her deep blue skin, “Sounds nice…”

They listen to the water rushing over more of the ruins that Jhanna stares at with a familiar pain, April watches them too.

“So you’re gonna be a queen or something, after you take down- what? Your dad? Mom?” April wrinkles her nose, freckles bunching up, and goes back to cleaning her burn.

“Moriah.” Jhanna plucks at the grass in a way that lets April know she’s so very young yet- they both are. And the realization hurts April, “I cannot explain to you what she has done to our kingdom- I do not understand myself but…she convinced the people that they were worthless if not wealthy- that the wealthy deserved something more than what our father gave. She is too young, too…foolish. My people turned to her blindly, even the poor.”

Jhanna shrugs, wincing slightly, and April listens.

“What could I do? They believed her and she gave them reason; she made alliance with the Galamora- and she sold our people…killed those who resisted…it was...horrible-” she clenches her fist, fingers closing around the tiny blades of withering, burnt grass.


Her pain, in her voice as it wavers from its otherwise steady dance through the words she spoke, is something powerful, and April flattens her hands on Jhanna’s good shoulder, unsure of the touch. She feels the rise and fall of her breaths, almost steady and rhythmic.


“Then I guess…we really can’t steal a ship huh?” April chuckles bitterly, and Jhanna’s shoulders shake with a laughter just a quiet and bitter.

“Perhaps not. Though I would enjoy sector 29G-17. I’ve never met a pirate- or anyone so skilled for that matter, that could take the head of a Trylthor.”

April shrugs, tucking her hair back, “Well congratulations, Jhanna- soon to be overlord or whatever of Omatron- you have met a pirate.” she flashes the alien a smile and falls back against the grass, staring up through the hole in the canopy, flashes of the night and the sparks and the gaping tear in space and Donnie’s eyes- and breathes, taking it in.


Jhanna eases beside her, laying in the patches, glaring up there too.


“The Ulysses Crew.” she says, turning to peer into April, “Do they value…life- of…others? Could they-”

She doesn’t need to finish and April knows they would. God, they would help her people in any way they could.

“Yeah,” she breathes, “They really freakin’ could…we just gotta find them.”

“Where are they?”

April watches transport ship fly overhead, warping into hyperspeed into distant galaxies, “I don’t know…the D’hbul…they found us- petty bet I don’t even know. Donnie…he pushed me into this pod- shot me out into space before the whole thing-” she unclenches her fingers puffing her cheeks and pushing breath out.

“Explosion…” Jhanna whispers, watching her people’s capture above them, “They are selfless- for how they saved you…”


And then it begins; April tells her all about them, and she can’t stop telling- and the stories, their stories, they bubble out from her in too fast words and a wavering voice overfilled with joy and regret.


She turns over to Jhanna, and sticks out her hand, tears pinched in the corner of her eyes when she presses a smile, “And by the way…” she says, seeing her own reflection in Jhanna’s bright eyes (she sees someone strong and emotional and full of a lot of crazy thing. she sees her trauma. and her fighting spirit. it’s her…), “I’m April.”

(It is April.)

(We Ourselves Must) Walk The Path

Welp, the 15th is nearly over here so I might as well post there! This is my fic for @macpye for the @dailyspiritassassin Dailyspiritassassin Summer 2017 Spiritassassin fanworks exchange over on tumblr!

This is a post Rogue One Everyone Lives AU that takes bits and pieces from Guardians of the Whills. Also, the Force probably doesn’t work this way but what the hell, until they explain it in universe, we can make up whatever we want.

Baze has always walked a rocky, jagged path. Now, in the wake of Scarif, his path turns in a direction that is both new and old.

I hope you enjoy it, @macpye. This fic can also be found over at AO3.


It was the sounds and smells particular to a medbay that convinced Chirrut that he was actually alive. He’d been awake for several minutes and had felt confused and uncertain, sure that he’d died on Scarif. He knew he’d been badly wounded, that had been obvious not only in the physical pain he’d been feeling but also in the anguish and grief in Baze’s voice. When he’d felt his consciousness fleeing, he’d surrendered to it willingly, trusting himself to the Force and content in the knowledge that, in the final words he’d heard from Baze, his husband had found his way back to the Force. He hadn’t needed any words of love to be content. Baze’s love was the one absolute, unshakable constant in his life. No, it had been the knowledge that Baze had found his way back to the Force that had been enough for him.

But he was, without a doubt, alive. His surroundings were far too mundane to be anything else. It seemed that the Force was not done with him just yet. He drew in a breath and shifted slightly then heard a small gasp from beside his bed.

“Jyn?” he ventured. The timbre of the gasp had been too high to be Bodhi or Cassian and he would know Baze anywhere. As there was nothing mechanical about the gasp to suggest it was K-2SO being sarcastic and obvious, that left only Jyn.

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title: all i gave you is gold

ship: reylo

wordcount: 2728

rating: R (it’s basically pure smut okay)

warnings: it’s pretty pure smut on the other hand, they bang against a wall.

summary: Rey and Kylo start out sparring, and end up doing something else entirely. It’s not for the first time, and it likely won’t be the last. Featuring bonus musing on just how light side Kylo has become, and just how much it means to either one of them.


Rey slams a foot into his chest; her thigh screams at the motion, but there’s a savage satisfaction at the way the air shoves itself back up his throat. He staggers back against the wall, head cracking into duracrete. They’re in a training room on Yavin IV, the air thick enough to chew. Somewhere in the distance, birds laugh at each other.

“Come on,” she gasps, resisting the urge to rub at the echo of pain in her ribs. “We’re not done yet.”

She only realises what she’s said when he lifts his head and bares his teeth at her. Not a snarl, but a grin. He’s shirtless and sweat-slicked, hair a wild tangle of curls about his face, and his frame filled with the sort of tension that speaks of control.

Barely maintained control. His feelings roar, a riot of frustration and desire that bleeds over into her, only to hiss out against an ocean of calm. Rey is - always - sure of where she stands with Kylo Ren. Even when she works him on the knife’s edge of his passions.

She waits. Her chest heaves with the force of her breathing, and she’s long since stripped her outer robes. A frisson of anticipation works through her because these moments all have a tendency to turn out the same way, and she sees the light in his gaze as it shivers through him.

His muscles twitch, a ripple of motion that she can’t help follow as it moves through his chest to his arms. He wants to lunge for her, she can feel it in the tension of her own body, see it in the way he holds himself. A second passes.

Two.

Three.

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Nico x MC - The Garden

“Give me your hand.”

“No, I’m fine… I’m not always a klutz, you know?”

“Give me your hand, Princess.” Nico’s voice was more assertive.

I held out my hand and he walked me down the jagged foot path of the garden. A strong rain a few days before had washed away pieces of the stones, leaving a rough and uneven path.

Nico’s hand was warm and he squeezed it as he helped me down the steps. I knew he was just being helpful after the whole “shoe incident,” but his touch made my skin tingle.

He giggled as I stumbled on the last step. “I should just carry you.” He teased.

“Nico! It’s still slippery after the rain!” I retorted, my face was nearly red from his comment. Carry me?

“Actually,” he started, “The path is a little muddy until the patio.” With that he grabbed my hand tight and pulled me close, then in one swift movement he scooped me up in his arms.

“Nico!” My face was beat red as he carried me along. His arms were strong and held me tight. I could smell him, I could smell the sweet scent from his lips- our faces were so close!

He looked down at me and smiled as he walked, I had to look away. When we reached the patio I tried to gain my composure again.

“Nico, you didn’t have to you that,” I said as I smoothed my skirt. “But, thank you.”

He winked at me. “No problem, Your Highness.”

“Do you like this place in the garden?” I asked, looking around at the hedges and the roses in full bloom. “It’s kind of like a secret place here, isn’t it?”

He nodded. “I don’t think many people come this far out.” He giggled and I thought I saw a mischievous look in his eyes. “Well, the servants come back here for reasons.” He laughed again.

“What for?” I spoke before I thought.

“Come to think of it - is that why you brought me back here?” He teased. “To take advantage of me, Princess? Hmmm?” He gave me another wink.

“Nico!”

For @tykira45 ;)

What do you bloody want from me?

When I get writer’s block I typically write a short drabble to get myself back on track. I felt like I should post this one even though I usually just delete them. Anyways, this is from Lucifer’s POV.


If you like listening to music while you read then you should definitely click here. It’s what I listened to when writing this :)


Another bright bolt split the sky as rain continued to fall on my head, the twisting sensation in my chest making me struggle for air as I glared up at the storm above me.

“What do you bloody want from me!?” I yelled in anger at my father as the rain plastered my shirt against my body. “You abandon me for centuries and now you decide it’s time to start intervening in my life?!”

As if on cue another loud rumble of thunder broke through the sound of rain pattering on the hard, sun-baked sand under my feet. Light filling the sky and momentarily making the blackened clouds light up a dark purple.

“What did I ever do to you to deserve any of this?!” I shouted up at the sky, my voice breaking towards the end as the burning feeling in my lungs grew almost unbearable. I managed to draw in a broken, choked breath of air when a sudden gust of wind blew into me, making me stumble backward until I tripped over a lone rock in the midst of the vast Nevada desert. I let out a long breath as I sat in the rapidly pooling water that hadn’t yet soaked into the ground, running my hands through my soaking hair as I felt the rain trailing path’s down my cheeks. But something wasn’t right…the rain on my face was much too warm.

“Why do you keep trying to erase the parts of me that you’re too uncomfortable to face?” I croaked out, my voice hardly more than a whisper that was quickly lost in the loud patter of rain. I rested my hands in the cold water pooling around me as I stared up at the angry rolling clouds. “Why do you keep reducing me to your labels?” I added when no further bolts of lightning streaked across the sky and no clap of thunder filled the air. I couldn’t take this anymore. I couldn’t take the pain. And I certainly couldn’t take the emptiness that was filling the void that the pain was eating away. Every day I felt less and less, and I knew it was only a matter of time until I felt nothing at all.

“What does it matter,” I scoffed softly as I glared at the brown sand beneath me. Nothing mattered anymore. Nothing mattered without her. “You’re never going to answer,” I added as I picked myself up off the ground, slowly standing despite the groaning protests of my soaking, cold body. I drew in another choked breath as I forced myself to hold back a sob.

“I have to give it to you though Dad! You really outdid yourself this time!” I shouted up at the sky. Another blindingly white bolt cutting it’s jagged path, slicing through the clouds just like a metaphorical knife through my chest. 

“Making Chloe and putting her in my path…” I barely even managed to get her name off my lips. What once had been a word full of reverence and hope was now a curse. A bitter reminder that everything good in my life was always just some cruel twisted joke for my father’s amusement. 

“Well congratulations,” I whispered softly just before a deafening clap of thunder filled the desert. “I hope you’re happy with yourself because you finally did it,” I continued as I shook my head at the clouds. I wish I had it in me to keep fighting. I wish I had it in me to try and stand up to him. But how could I when he had everything and I had nothing. 

“You finally accomplished your mission after eons of failed attempts.” I barely even heard my own voice as I turned away from the vast emptiness of the desert before me to face the glistening lights on the far off horizon. Lights that I knew wouldn’t help ease my suffering, lights that may as well not even be there for all the good they would be able to do me.

“You finally broke me.”

I breathe sharp —
Your lips, the weight of your fingers on my stomach. Delirium. Nobody warned me of falling in love with a songbird. Nobody told me of his siren and the jagged path of his soul. His cheekbones cut like Italian marble, and I am no Michelangelo, I cannot create us into better people.  He sings nightmares when father isn’t watching and I play them on my ceiling fan, like our home movies. How much would it take to unravel our history? 

I can close my eyes sometimes and fall back to sleep —
Brother, I see you, live wire, underneath my hands. I am blushing, lost in the cadence of your hello. Hear the carols singing, you know what you do and you do it anyway. The pine sticks to your leather jacket, and I watch you like girls watch stars. We were christmas lights in the middle of July, surreal.

Alone, as usual —
God, send help.  His name is a prayer and I’ve never believed in anything before. Tell me what to do, so I can do this right. I am afraid of losing this again.

But, wanting like before —  
Lazarus left me a voicemail saying he never wants to see me again. Heaven didn’t call back and mailed me your heartache instead. It was a pretty postcard of the Grand Canyon. I love you too much, I love you too bad. You are the bullet wound I could never stitch up solo. Please don’t go.

—  WEAREFISSURED,  x.v

anonymous asked:

nettle + shrios?

Nettle- cruelty
Pre-relationship Lee/Thane kind of. It’s the odd ‘what are we’ stage.

She strikes too hard for a human, he thinks idly. 

It’s the first time he’s had a chance to watch her fight with no weapon aside from her fists. A ‘friendly’ sparring session amongst a few crew members, with the Commander going so far as to grace them with her presence. The friendly part was a stretch, in his mind. 

She went in hard and fast and mercilessly, with a barely contained rage burning just below the surface. He swears he can see it through the golden scars that make jagged paths in her flesh. It’s fascinating to watch, really, the way she takes something like rage, which, under normal circumstances would be far too volatile to actually be productive, and turns it sharp and hard and into something that can be used. Thane almost considers the possibility that she was trained that way by the Alliance, but as he watches the way that the lower crewman crumples to the ground after a particularly nasty hit to the ribs, he decides against it. This is her, raw and untouched. It’s that simple. 

Shepard helps him to his feet after she lowers her fists, but there’s still a stiffness there. He understands the movement, the need to keep people at arm’s length for everyone’s sake. Yes, Commander Lee Shepard is a cruel woman, obviously so, but she is not stupid, nor inherently unkind where there’s no need to be. 

“Anyone else?” She asks sharply once the crewman has shuffled off to, presumably, the medbay. She’s sweating slightly, a soft sheen visible on her skin. But aside from that and a few dark hairs out of place, she looks mostly unruffled. If he hadn’t just seen her nearly decimate a man, he would’ve just assumed that she’d come in from a brisk walk. 

But that wasn’t the case. They were not in a place where such a thing was possible. They were in the shuttle bay of the Normandy, locking eyes after the proposition leaves her lips, and he moves forward without answering, but she knows. 

“You know I won’t be going easy on you,” she informs him as they each take the ready position. “And I expect the same. Make it hurt, Krios, or I’ll wonder if I should have left you in Illium.” 

He gives a brief nod, and she takes that as the signal to lurch forward. Fast, but not quite as honed as he is. The sound his foot makes when it connects with her body can her heard across the shuttle bay, as those watching dare not make a sound during an event like this. She’s on the ground instantly, grunting in what he can only assume is immense pain, but only long enough for him to make his retort.

“Worry not, Shepard. I’ll only ever be coming at you with the intent to kill.”

And then she grins, like she’s just been handed the best gift of her entire life, and lunges forward again. And so begins the real dance. 

ao3 here

send me a prompt!

I have a thing for future!domestic cs.

She hears the patter of feet just before she sees the little blur of blonde, and really it has taken her far too long to not jump for some form of protection whenever their little monster deems her worthy of his spurts of affection.  It is remarkably against her instinct to drop the spoon she is lazily stirring her afternoon cocoa with and meet Liam with open arms and a smile as he pounces excitedly upon her.


“Careful lad,” His voice comes from the doorway, and she looks up smiling from delicate blonde curls, “Your mum is carrying precious cargo.”


Liam giggles against her belly, right where the littlest Jones has been kicking incessantly all day (surely quite perturbed that her father has gone off sailing without them all day).


“Me!” He agrees fullheartedly, cuddling nearer to her.


“I dunno, kid.  You’re getting a bit big to be carried, aren’t you?” She raises a hand to ruffle up his curls, and he tilts his head to peer nervously up at her with anxious blue eyes that are precise reflections of his fathers, eyebrows scrunched tight.


Daddy still picks me up.”

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Part 2: I was diagnosed with childhood schizophrenia after experiencing a series of traumatic events. I was told they never really happened. But I know they did.

Part 1

The nights leading to my first encounter with Dr. Jessica were spent sleeping in my parents’ room. I couldn’t stay in my own. Whenever I went back, I was greeted by the sight of the black woman’s ruined body. It looked like the creatures had taken away the parts they needed, but what they left was hideous: tendons and gristle and fat stuck deep inside the recesses of her skeleton. The one time I ran in to grab a shirt for school, I saw one of the things curled up inside her splintered rib cage. When it noticed me, it uncoiled itself and rose like a cobra until it reached my height; a tube of glistening muscle as thick as my thigh standing at attention as I rushed to get the shirt. I stifled a sob when I saw how much bigger it was than the others I’d encountered.

The death of my friend, or my “episode,” as my parents called it, was on a Saturday. I was allowed to stay home from school on Monday, but Tuesday and Wednesday were business as usual. I was happy for this; I loved school. My teachers enjoyed me, I had a couple friends, and I always got good grades. I was scheduled to meet with the school psychologist on Friday, and I was looking forward to whatever help he might be able to provide. On Thursday morning, though, something happened.

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anonymous asked:

Hey. First of all I'm a big fan of your scenarios. It always makes ms happy to read them after a long day of school. :) You are an amazing writer your scenarios made me love each member of Exo even more. Could you make a Chanyeol wolf scenario where his girlfriend is in danger because of other wolfs and him and Exo save her. With a nice happy and sweet ending. Thank you so much if you'll write it and keep up the good work. :)

Before The Full Moon Rises ~Chanyeol/Sehun~ ☾ 

Heyyy so this one was combined with the “Sehun wolf scenario where you get hurt” because they were really similar and if I wrote them separately then you would be reading pretty much the same storyline twice lol. AND AS FOR THE ENDING…ummm I’m sorry but after I finished I realized it wasn’t exactly “sweet.” But oh well enjoy~ I kinda sorta tried —Admin C

Oh and one more thing—regarding your relationship with Sehun in this scenario…I’d say something like really good friends but he harbors feelings for you? Yeah idk things get pretty…uh…different…so there might be some changes in your feelings lol I DONT KNOW BYE

The forest around you was a tangled mass of thick bushes and low-hanging branches that swayed slowly in the wind like twisted, grotesque arms. Where the light from the thin sliver of moon did not touch, the shadows swirled and pulsed in the trees and on the forest ground, hiding darker shapes within that slithered in and out of shrubs and scurried along the thin branches.

The howls behind you rose to a frenzy chorus of hunger, and the fervent excitement from the beasts was almost tangible in the stagnant night air. Branches whipped in your face, thorns scratched at your legs, your heart hammered against your rib cage and your lungs were on fire from the lack of oxygen, but you did not slow down your pace as you ran through the pitch black forest, away from the ravenous, bloodthirsty beasts.

Help, help, help. God, please, someone help me.

Cold sweat ran down your back as your feet kicked up swirls of dead leaves and left a messy, jagged path behind you, which was soon tore into shambles again by the heavy paws of the wolves chasing you.

Someone, please. Anyone. Anyone. Help me!

The howling got closer and closer; teeth snapped at your heels as you pushed yourself to run even faster, dashing blindly through the dark forest, through bushes and branches and occasional spider webs.

Your muscles were screaming in protest but you didn’t dare to stop. The wolves’ howls sounded like laughter and jeers, mocking you for being the useless little girl you are, unable to do anything but to run, run, and run.

You did not see the gnarled roots of an old tree in front of you, strewn across the path like invisible black tendrils. The moment you stepped into the area and tripped over the first root, the others seem to rise up and tangle around your ankles as well, bringing you down.

You lost your balance and fell heavily onto the soft floor of the forest with a cry, sending up another swirl of leaves.

Blinking the stars out of your eyes, you looked up to see a pitch-black sky. The canopy here was so thick and dense here that even the faint moonlight could not penetrate through to light up the darkness around you.

You let out a scream when you felt a pair of heavy, massive paws come down on either side of your head and heard a deep growl resonate from the shadows above you.

You only had time to glimpse a pair of savage yellow eyes before the wolf’s jaws came down onto your face, its hot, rancid breath filling your nostrils and making your stomach turn.

You turned your head and reacted on pure reflex, only narrowly missing the beast’s snapping teeth. Reaching up to clamp your hands around the wolf’s throat, you mustered whatever strength you still had left and tried to shove the enormous animal off of you. When you realized that you could lift up the wolf’s head a few inches to keep it from biting your face off, you almost laughed at your piteous incompetence, at the same time wanting to cry out of despair.

The howls sounded throughout the nearby woods as the other wolves caught up with their alpha, making a loose circle around the two of you.

Your arms started to shake with the tremendous effort you were using to push the wolf away, and you could feel the energy slowly draining out of you even as its snapping teeth inched closer and closer toward your face. You pushed your head back against the dirt beneath you, as if the little distance gained could keep the beast away for a while longer.

Fear finally masked over shock and started to spread through your veins like poison; your chest was so constricted and your throat was so dry you couldn’t even produce a proper scream, or a cry for help.

The wolf’s snout, wet with drool, was so close that you could smell the sour blood on its breath. The weight of the beast’s body on top of yours was slowly crushing you alive, and your arms were starting to give out under the force of its thick neck straining to lean toward your face.

Gathering up the last bit of your strength, you kicked your legs upward and jammed your knees into the wolf’s stomach, slithering out from underneath its massive body as it howled in pain.

You had not crawled for more than a few feet before a searing sensation burst on your left calf life a flame and your vision blackened with unbearable agony. One of the wolves lurking in the shadows had leaped forward and sunk its teeth into your leg; out of revenge for its alpha or out of hunger, you didn’t know.

Your mouth opened to let out an ear-splitting scream as the wolf sunk its canines deeper into your flesh, refusing to let go. Hot tears started to stream down your cheeks, and your face twisted in agony as the wolf bit deeper into your calf.

You shrieked incoherently, you mind hazy with the blinding pain. Another scream tore its way out of your throat as the wolf released your leg roughly from its jaw, only to rear up and come down onto your neck.

You flung up your arms up to cover your face, closing your eyes as you mentally prepared to meet your death.

But before the beast could tear you apart with its bloodstained teeth, its heavy weight was suddenly lifted off of you and you opened your eyes to see a flash of grey and white knocking it aside.

Squinting into the darkness, you tried to decipher the two shadows writhing on the forest ground together, growling and snarling and tearing at each other with teeth and claws, yellow eyes gleaming with burning animosity.

From what you could see, the lean grey wolf who had saved you was slowly gaining the upper hand, repeatedly slamming the head of the other wolf onto the ground and biting viciously at its back and limbs and neck as he clawed fiercely at its stomach.

There was something familiar about the grey wolf in front of you, but you pushed your hazy thoughts away and focused on sitting up, biting your lips to hold back the screams as the pain in your calf blossomed again at your slight movement. Taking a few deep breaths, you tried to stand up, only to fall back down among the dead leaves with an agonizing cry. The action tore open your wound further and blood spurted profusely out of the already mangled flesh, running down your leg and pooling onto the ground beneath you.

A high-pitched squeak came from the direction of the fight and you looked up to see the wolf who had attacked you earlier limping away with its tail between its legs, while the big grey wolf snapped threateningly at its heels.

You narrowed your eyes at him again, a crazy idea tugging at the back of your mind.

It couldn’t be, could it?

The wolf turned back to look at you at that moment, and when you stared into its pale yellow-green eyes, you were suddenly certain of your conjecture.

“S-Sehun?”

The wolf flicked its pointy ears, acknowledging your tentative call. Your eyes widened in disbelief, and for a temporary moment you forgot the pain in your leg as you took in the huge beast.

Impossible.

Before you had time to recollect your thoughts, Sehun had already turned away to face the pack of wolves that had ventured into the clearing. The pale moon rose higher in the sky and shown faintly through the web of branches, dappling the forest ground. The wolves were no longer cloaked by shadows, and you shivered at the sight of their rugged pelts and savage eyes.

The grey wolf bared his teeth and flattened his ears, snarling at the others as he crouched low and prepared to attack. Your blood ran cold when you took in the endless number of enemies around you, each one looking more murderous than the next. The reassurance you felt earlier drained out of you, and you trembled in fear again.

“Sehun, wait, d-don’t fight them. There has to be another wa—” Your call was lost in a sea of growls as the two sides lunged at each other, diving into a frenzy mass of fur and teeth and claws.

You blinked, your eyes shifting left and right as you tried to pick out your lone friend from the others. The pain in your leg was starting to cloud your senses, but you refused to succumb to the darkness creeping into your mind.

The lithe, graceful figure of Sehun dashed in and out of the mad cluster, biting and swiping at each and every wolf he passed, but never killing.

He was an exceptional fighter, but even you could tell that there were too many enemies for him to deal with alone.

A shadow crept into the edge of your vision, and you saw the alpha wolf that you had injured earlier circling the pack, biding his time and waiting for the perfect chance to pounce on the grey wolf. Sehun was too preoccupied in his multiple battles to notice the new threat.

You opened your mouth and screamed his name, but before the first syllable even left your tongue, the huge alpha had already attacked, lunging straight at Sehun’s exposed back.

His high-pitched, tormented howl a second later felt like thousands of needles jabbing into your own heart. The massive wolf had clamped its jaws on Sehun’s shoulder, biting deep into the flesh. The grey wolf tried to twist around and shake him off, but the other wolves pounced on him simultaneously and buried him beneath a mass of dirty, mangy fur.

“Sehun!” You screamed again, trying to crawl forward but ended up almost fainting from the overwhelming pain in your leg. You bit your lip so hard that you tasted blood on your tongue.

The agonized whines of your friend rose distinctly among the chorus of satisfied howls, and your heart twisted until you felt like it would shrivel up in your chest.

“No, no, no, no…please, please, leave him alone,” you whimpered, cursing at your uselessness.

As if your pleas had summoned them, a few of the wolves at the edge of the cluster turned around and stared at you, baring their teeth into snarls that resembles sadistic smiles. You could only imagine how you must look to them right now, a shivering mess covered in dirt and blood and tears curled on the forest floor, half in moonlight and half in shadows.

They detached themselves from the others and slinked toward you, tongues lolling in delight. Then, without warning, the closest one pounced.

You squeezed your eyes shut, but never felt the impact. Instead, you heard whimpering and the sound of paws scratching against the leaf-littered ground, then a sharp, high-pitched yelp that was cut off abruptly.

You opened your eyes to see an enormous brown wolf standing over the limp body of the black wolf that had tried to attack you earlier. Blood dripped steadily from the brown wolf’s snout, and you looked down at the body beneath his paws to see an open red gash at the base of the black wolf’s neck. Its throat had been torn out.

You shuddered at the awful sight.

A howl suddenly sounded from behind you, and the next second you felt gusts of wind whipping by you on either side as wolf after wolf shot past you and charged at the writhing pile of beasts in front of you, silent as the night itself.

Howls filled the air once again, but this time, from menace, enmity, and fear as the new forces clashed with the hungry pack that had been trying to tear Sehun apart.

Amidst the chaos, you never took your eyes off the massive brown wolf directly in front of you. A sense of déjà vu passed over you as you locked your eyes with his golden ones, once again struck by the strange feeling that you’d met him before.

In the mere second that took you to blink, the wolf had shifted fluidly into a tall, lean boy with chestnut hair and eyes that were no longer gold, but dark brown. He reached up and slowly wiped a hand across the blood that still covered his lips and chin, flicking the crimson droplets carelessly onto the dead wolf at his feet. He stepped over the motionless body without glancing down and started to walk toward you.

The moonlight danced over his bare shoulders and chest and blackened the specks of blood on his tattered jeans, and in that fleeting moment, he looked as sinister as he was beautiful.

You mind whirled. It was Chanyeol.

Park Chanyeol, that tall, handsome senior; the rapper, the guitarist, the jester, the boy who had given you flowers and serenaded you in front of the whole school—had just torn out the throat of another wolf.

You were starting to wonder if this was all just a terrible, terrible nightmare, and if things would go back to normal once you pinched yourself. The throbbing pain in your leg dissipated your wishful thinking, and you blinked out of your daze.

“________?”

From the same mouth that had killed and tasted blood, he called out your name. Softly, tentatively, full of concern.

You couldn’t help but remember Sehun as you looked up at the approaching boy. Sehun, the grey wolf who had protected you even knowing that he would not win. The grey wolf who had fiercely attacked the countless enemies, but never killing.

Chanyeol’s ferociousness frightened you. A ridiculous thought, really, for he was the boy you loved.

Yet, still.

“________, hang on. I’ll get you out of here. How is your leg? Can you move?” Chanyeol asked as he knelt down in front of you, reaching out to touch the feverish skin around your wound as he checked the injury. You flinched slightly, out of fear or pain, you didn’t know; Chanyeol interpreted it as the latter. His jaws tightened in anger, and his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Which one of them,” he growled through gritted teeth, “did this to you?”

Before the reply could leave your mouth, you felt the world tilt around you, and the next second you were falling. A strong pair of arms caught you and held you firmly, and you saw Chanyeol’s face swim before your eyes. Your leg was starting to numb with the loss of blood and your vision was starting to cloud over, and as much as you wanted to stay conscious, you were slowly slipping away.

“You’re…you’re…a wolf…” You muttered incoherently, trying to sit upright but failing miserably for you couldn’t even tell which way was up.

Despite his anger, you heard a soft chuckle escape his lips upon your words.

“Yes, that’s right. Sorry for not telling you…I didn’t think there would ever come a day when you needed to know.” He looked up from your wound and gazed straight at you. “Are you afraid?”

His eyes were soft as he leaned closer, supporting your body gently. You swallowed back the truth.

“No. No, I’m not afraid.”

“Well, that’s a relief.” He didn’t notice your moment of hesitation. “Now let’s get you out of here.”

Chanyeol gently lifted you and hoisted you up onto his back; and suddenly, the smooth skin beneath you changed into soft, warm fur, and then you were riding through the night, the feeling his strong muscles extending and contracting against your body as he carried you through the forest at a blinding speed. His gallop was surprisingly smooth despite the speed, so even in your half-conscious state you managed to lie on his broad back and stay in that position.

A thought crossed your hazy mind at that moment, and suddenly you shot up, looking around frantically.

“Sehun? Sehun? Sehun! Where’s Sehun? Where is he? He’s still back there—” You twisted around on Chanyeol’s back to look at the battle unfolding in the clearing behind you, your eyes darting among countless wolves as you searched for your friend. Your heart stuttered in dread. “No! No! I don’t see him. Where is he? Help him! Please! We have to go back—”

A low bark from Chanyeol interrupted your wild, mindless shouting, and you opened your mouth to yell again only to fall back onto him as your last bit of energy drained out of you and your body slowly sunk back into the numb, sluggish state it was in before.

Chanyeol barked again, as if he was trying to convey something to you. As you slipped into unconsciousness, you vaguely saw two other wolves catch up to Chanyeol and flank him on either side. One of them carried a fair-haired boy whose pale body was covered in wounds, some of which the blood still flowed from. It dripped onto the forest ground and trailed a scarlet path behind them, but the wolves did not stop.

They did not worry about the enemies coming after them, for they knew their pack would take care of the business and finish off the savage wolves in the clearing. The swiftness in their steps was for the sole purpose of getting you and Sehun treated as soon as possible.

“Sehun?” You called softly across the narrow strip of empty space between Chanyeol and the other wolf, darkness slowly starting to close in on your vision.

The boy’s eyes stayed closed and he lay unmoving on the wolf’s back. His bloody bangs were matted to his forehead, and a thin trickle of blood trailed down the side of his head, disappearing into the fur beneath him.

“Sehun,” you said again, your heart twisting painfully in your chest as you took in his broken form, his body lined with bruises and scratch marks and deep red gashes and torn flesh. “Sehun?”

The boy did not respond. You breath hitched as the first sob escaped your throat. You called his name over and over again, until Chanyeol sped up and Sehun’s still face disappeared from your sight.

Just A Kiss

Fic Request: write a fic about how you think stydia will actually happen

Rating: K+

Genre: Romance

Author: justfocusonmyvoicestileslookatme

A/N: Malia and Stiles have been broken up a while. I had to do some of research for this around American colleges so sorry if my info is way off but I’m British; that’s my excuse and I’m sticking to it.

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Sherlock’s Heart

I am not a meta writer, There is some fine meta out there delving into the symbolism of Sherlock’s Heart in the mind palace  and the presence of Moriarty there. I love it all!!

I am a visual person and I was looking through screen shots and this view caught my eye.

The aerial shot shows Moriarty  posed in a very “heart” like shape.  The straps and chain of the straight jacket cutting a jagged path right down the center of the heart shape.   Just found it appropriate and a nice shot.

Just a kiss

Stydia month> week four, day five> how they get together

Lydia stared at the black ink; it was her second acceptance letter in as many days. Yale and Harvard were schools she had been dreaming of attending for as long as she could remember. Why was it then that when she looked at the letters welcoming her - if she decided to join them - she got a decidedly unwelcome feeling in the pit of her stomach?

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anonymous asked:

“What happened doesn’t change anything.” + cs

Took some very mild creative liberties and changed it to simply–“this doesn’t change anything”

Dark and angsty smut ahead.

(also, i wrote this before the mid-season finale, that’s why it’s so dark fyi)

(also, i’m sorry)

Closing her eyes she bites back a muffled sob turned moan as he lifts her up with a rough and bruising grip, her head rapping against the wall behind her and causing her to wince in pain as his lips trail their way down her neck, his teeth biting and nipping a jagged path and his tongue doing little to soothe as his hook digs into her pale and sensitive flesh, his nails leaving little crescent shaped marks up and down her reddened outer thighs.

He’s not even attempting to be gentle; is giving so very little consideration to her needs and wants and fragile state of mind as he lines his cock up against her and thrusts himself in deep without so much as a muttered warning. The feel of him stretching and filling her, pushing himself into her until she’s clawing and scratching at him and nearly screaming for him to stop, leaving her breathless and hot, trembling and exhausted…

And weak.

(Oh God she’s so very, very weak.)

He pushes her to her limits.

And it hurts.

It burns.

(It’s so good, so mind-numbingly good.)

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