#turning yourself inside out; showing your true colors; and striking out at your most vulnerable

[vulcanautus]

slough

[babyboibucky]

Charming (Part 2 of Charm)

Pairing: TFATWS!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky has everything planned out for his date with you.

Word Count: 2,566

Warnings: No TFATWS spoilers here, Bucky being charming (hence the title) is a warning in itself

A/N: Ahhh you guys, thank you for all the love for Charm! I didn’t expect for that oneshot to receive so much love from everyone. Can’t thank y’all enough!!! For those who haven’t read it yet, make sure to do so before reading this!

Charm (Part 1) || MAIN MASTERLIST

Bucky nervously waited outside of your apartment building. He made sure to plan really well for this date, he didn’t want to mess up. He really liked talking to you and he wanted you to enjoy this day.

“Okay, I’m ready!” You announced as you stepped out of the building, jogging downstairs to approach him.

You looked excited, Bucky noticed. Okay, that’s good. He’s off to a good start. He found himself smiling at you, admiring this light and bright aura that radiated off of you. He could use a little light in his life and it might be too soon for Bucky to even consider it, but you seemed like the perfect girl to him.

“Hi.” Bucky greeted. “You look beautiful.” He said, eyeing you from head to toe.

Bucky’s confidence grew when your cheeks turned pink at his compliment. You thanked him and let your eyes fall to his left arm, making Bucky instantly regret his decision to forego the gloves. He should’ve worn his jacket on top of his blue henley. All his worries though eventually dissipated when you reassured him.

“Glad you aren’t wearing your gloves, it looked really uncomfortable.” You told him genuinely.

Bucky shyly let out a chuckle, “Yeah.”

“So, to the park?” You asked excitedly.

Bucky made a face, “Actually, I thought of changing our plans a bit. Hope that’s alright?” He asked hopefully.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you nodded, “Hmm, that sounds interesting. Alright then, what do you got?”

Embarrassment filled Bucky’s entire being when he whipped out a folded piece of paper from his back pocket. He glanced at you and watched your expression as he unfolded it, revealing it to be the size of a bond paper where he had written down his agenda for the day.

“Oh wow, that’s...very interesting.” You pointed out but with no malice. In fact, you were impressed.

Who would’ve thought that guys nowadays came to a date prepared? But then again, Bucky wasn’t from this time but truly appreciated how old-fashioned he still was.

Bucky rubbed his neck, “I made an itinerary but saying that out loud, it actually sounds terrible.”

“Not at all!” You were quick to defend. “I like a well-planned day. I’m not really the spontaneous type so this really works well for me.” You chuckled.

Bucky bit his lip to stop himself from smiling too wide. It seemed like the date would go pretty well, he hoped it’d last the entire day though. He couldn’t help but worry that something might happen that would throw you off. Or that he might end up saying things that you’d find offensive.

“What’s first on the itinerary?” You asked.

-

“I got a strike!” You squealed in excitement and pumped your first in the air.

Bucky took you to a bowling place and honestly, he didn’t expect for you to be so excited about it. He felt silly for outdoing himself for this first date. In fact, he researched about dating in the modern day the moment he got home after meeting you. The tips were very different, some of which he wasn’t comfortable doing. So instead of adjusting to the present, Bucky stayed true to himself.

He was going to do it his own way, no matter how traditional it seemed. This led him to writing down his ideas on a piece of paper and planning everything out properly.

“Looks like I won.” You smirked, seeing the scores flash on the television hanging on the ceiling. “Did you go easy on me? Tell me the truth, Bucky.” You warned as you looked at him suspiciously.

Bucky chortled and shook his head, “I didn’t. It’s been decades since the last time I did this so I got pretty rusty at it.” He explained.

“You ready to grab something to eat?” He asked, checking the time and seeing that it was close to three in the afternoon.

You nodded enthusiastically, “I’m starving! I mean, beating a super soldier at bowling can be really exhausting.” You teased.

Bucky smiled, “Great, but can we stop by somewhere first?”

-

Bucky felt proud at himself when he saw the astonished look in your face.

“Oh my god, is this...?” You asked, eyeing the car that Bucky drove out of a car rental shop.

“A 1942 Pontiac Torpedo.” Bucky boasted before stepping out of the car and leading you towards the front seat.

Bucky waited for you to slip in, your expression still that of utter disbelief, before closing the door and walking around to ride back inside.

“And it’s the convertible one.” He said proudly and laughed at your reaction when he brought down the roof.

“I have no words for this, Bucky. This is amazing!” You exclaimed, running your hands on the compartment and just taking in the beautiful interiors of the vintage car.

Bucky watched you with a soft look in his eyes. He felt kind of selfish for gloating at the fact that this date only proved to himself that he still is James Buchanan Barnes. Despite decades of torture and brainwashing as the Winter Soldier, he still had pieces of himself left.

But seeing you so giddy at the date that he poured so much effort in? Maybe he wasn’t so selfish after all.

“And where will you be taking us next for you to rent this lovely vehicle? I honestly don’t know what to expect after this. I’m just...I love it!” You laughed, unable to hide your excitement.

“We’re having burgers and milkshakes.” Bucky announced.

-

Bucky wanted you to experience what it was like dating in his time, so it was only right that he took you to a diner. But it wasn’t just the regular one, he took you to a drive-in diner where waitresses even wore roller derby skates.

“You just keep on outdoing yourself, Bucky. I’m speechless!” You laughed.

The waitress rolled by your car and took your orders. After she left, there was finally a moment of peace which allowed you and Bucky to have an actual conversation.

“Did you often hang out in one of these places then?” You asked.

Bucky smiled at the memories, “Yeah, used to take Steve with me. He always ended up getting mad whenever he realized that it was a set-up for a double date.”

You hummed in amusement. “You seemed really popular with the ladies, huh?”

Bucky chuckled timidly before letting out a sigh. He turned to you curiously and creased his forehead, “Why didn’t you tell me you knew who I was?” He finally asked.

You seemed surprised at his question but your features softened up almost immediately. Shrugging as if it was no big deal, you told him that you really didn’t feel the need to do so.

“Would it change anything if I told you I knew who you were?” You curiously asked.

Bucky thought for a brief moment, “I probably would’ve excused myself and left.”

“That’s what I thought.” You said. “You seemed comfortable then, I didn’t want to overwhelm you by bringing it up. Besides, I really don’t care about it. I mean, I had fun talking to you and that’s all that matters to me. Superhero or not, I do enjoy your company.”

Bucky snickered, “I don’t think superhero is the right word.”

“You’ll be surprised that a lot of people call you that.” You said, placing a hand on Bucky’s arm, squeezing it to offer him comfort.

Bucky loosened up at your touch and kept his gaze lingering on how your fingers were wrapped around his arm.

“There’s this one kid at the orphanage I volunteer at,” you said, letting go of Bucky’s arm as you adjusted your position in the car so you could turn to him. Bucky almost missed the warmth from your hand on his skin.

“I asked them to draw someone they looked up to and this is his work.” You said, bringing out your phone to show Bucky a photo of the drawing.

Bucky’s breath hitched when you handed him your phone, revealing that the kid drew a man with long brown hair and a metal arm. He used black and gold to color the metal arm, not silver. It didn’t even have the red star on it. When Bucky looked up at you, he saw the most genuine smile he had ever seen.

“I asked him why he chose you and he said that he liked how Captain America’s best friend fought alongside him. For a kid his age, he knew a lot about your history too. He’s a huge fan.” You laughed.

Bucky’s eyes almost brimmed with tears. He was unable to believe that a kid would look up to him, consider him a superhero. All this time he had been seeing himself as a villain still, the bad guy. Someone who would have a hard time redeeming himself. You made him think twice about it, that maybe he had been too harsh on himself.

“You should come with me to the orphanage some time. The kids will love you, Bucky. It’s not that hard to do so.” You said softly, lifting your hand up to fix a strand of Bucky’s hair that was out of place.

It was a beautiful moment between the two of you. Bucky felt vulnerable but safe, like you’d keep him safe. Not from danger but from his very own destructive thoughts. Whenever he loses control of his mind, whenever it wanders into the darkest parts of his past, Bucky tends to self-destruct. And he almost wandered there but you were quick to pull him back to the surface.

“What are you thinking of?” You asked when you noticed that Bucky was just staring at you.

Bucky’s gaze fell onto your lips and then back at your eyes, “Thinking about whether I should just go for it now.”

“Go for what?” You blinked.

Bucky slowly leaned in but was immediately startled when the waitress arrived with your orders.

-

After the diner, Bucky drove to the park where the two of you walked around while talking about well, anything. He learned more about you and this time, he didn’t have to lie about anything whenever you asked him. In fact, Bucky got really comfortable opening up about his life in the 40’s, he even talked about his family.

The two of you talked more until the sun set and the next thing you knew was that Bucky brought you to a drive-in theater and bought pizza to cap off the date.

-

It was a little past ten in the evening when Bucky drove you home. He opened the car door for you and nervously fidgeted with the piece of paper in his back pocket.

“So did you tick off everything on the itinerary?” You asked.

Bucky let out the fakest laugh because no, he hasn’t ticked off everything on his list. There was one more thing that he planned to do at the very end of the date. He had been confident about it, especially after how much you enjoyed the date in its entirety. But, now standing outside your apartment building and staring at you nervously, he wasn’t sure whether he had enough courage to pull this off.

“I uhh...well...” Bucky stammered. “Did you enjoy?” He asked again, just to be sure.

“I am offended that you had to ask because I thought my face was unable to hide at how much I did!” You laughed.

“Thank you for giving me the 1940s experience. I love it. I really do, it’s...it’s been a while since I last went on a date that I really enjoyed.” You shyly admitted, biting your lip and looking up at Bucky through your lashes.

Bucky’s breath got caught in his throat as he gazed down at you. You looked really beautiful, no matter how simple you looked. He wanted to take you out to another date, maybe tomorrow. Or the next day perhaps, actually, Bucky wanted to be with you every single day.

You were so kind and bubbly, you offered so much light to his darkness. He loved how your hopeful attitude rubbed off on him, he badly needed it. And he loved how you made him feel...himself. He was just Bucky Barnes, a guy navigating through the modern times and finding his place in this world. And it would seem like an easy task with you by his side.

“Well, I guess this is it.” You said. “Thanks again, Bucky. I really did enjoy.”

Bucky was surprised when you stepped closer to him for a hug. Feeling your arms wrap around his waist and your hair brush against his chin gave him the boost of confidence he needed to finally check off the last on his date itinerary.

By the time he convinced himself to do it, you already stepped back and bid Bucky good night.

Bucky proved to himself the other night that he still has his charm from back then. And tonight, he was going to prove that his charm was going to sweep you off of your feet.

“Wait, one last thing.” Bucky said, reaching out for your wrist.

He tugged you forward making you squeal, and then wrapped his metal arm around your waist before swooping you down for a kiss.

Bucky wasn’t sure how you would react to his kiss but he could no longer hold himself back. It could either make or break his friendship with you, but Bucky just had to. And it wasn’t just to prove something to himself, he’d been wanting to kiss you all throughout the day. He would have already, at the diner, if only the waitress didn’t interrupt his little moment with you.

He almost panicked when your lips remained still, but it all went away when he felt your hands wrap around his shoulders before finally kissing him back. Bucky’s lips curled into a smile against yours as he slowly straightened, bringing you back up before pulling away.

You panted against his lips, your hands sliding down to rest on Bucky’s chest as his landed on your hips.

“Was that...was that a part of your list?” You breathlessly asked.

“Yes. Almost went for it at the diner but I guess the universe wanted for me to stick to the schedule.” He grinned.

You threw your head back in laughter, “So that’s what you meant by that!”

Bucky laughed in agreement and held your face in his metal hand, noticing how you weren’t thrown off. Instead, you turned your face to even press a kiss on his palm.

“Was I too fast? Kissing you on the first date?” He asked, caressing your face.

You shook your head, “You did wait until the end of the date to do so, I guess your timing was just right.”

“And...how was it?” Bucky meekly asked, almost afraid that he might have sucked given that this was his first kiss in decades.

Smiling, you leaned in again to give him a quick peck on the lips. A reassurance, something to melt Bucky’s worries away.

“What can I say? James Bucky Barnes, you are one charming man.”

Now, Bucky was a hundred percent sure that he still has it in him. And he made a mental note to boast to Yori how his first date with you went.

-

Everything Bucky Tag List:

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Some tags aren’t walking ugh I’m so sorry to all those that tumblr failed to tag!

[stagtic]

tagged by:  @carnalsmile​, thanks v much!!

tagging: UHH idk!! go ahead if u haven’t yet

layer one : the outside

Name -  Alastor. Not sure what his chosen name was, but his birth name has been BURIED, good luck finding it ever. Eye colour -  Deep red schlera, with stark red irises. His eyes were brown in life. Hair style / colour -  His hair’s done in a smart little bob haircut, deep red with black tips. He had black hair in life. Height -  Over 7 ft. Clothing style - Anything with a vintage, early 1900s flair! He prefers to dress sharply in a suit, rather than the more casual style that was beginning to become popular for men during the 30s, but he won’t begrudge something a little more comfortable in familiar company.

Best physical feature - What else, but his winning S M I L E?

layer two : the inside

Fears -  Vulnerability, dogs, loss of control, other people and their intentions. Guilty pleasure -  Alastor harbors a secret fondness for 70 - 80s era music. Catch him belting out The Police or REM in the shower and die probably. Biggest pet peeve -  Being touched. Ambitions for the future - Whatever his grander scheme might be, the top priority will always be his own survival, whatever the cost.

layer three : thoughts

First thoughts upon waking up: An immediate assessment of his surroundings, if he’s safe, and who’s with him. What you think about most:  Survival. What you think about before bed: I don’t think he really DOES think much before sleep -- he kinda just abruptly blacks out, then snaps back to it as if nothing happened. What your best quality is: His charm. However superficial, he has a way of making people feel like the STAR of the show.

layer four : what’s better ?

Single or group dates -  Single. He prefers to focus on one person at once, especially if it’s an actually meaningful conversation to him rather than him putting on a show. To be loved or respected - Respected. Loving and being loved has never really worked out well for him. Beauty or brains - Given that he’s in HELL and that good looks are hard to come by anymore unless ur a dangass FURRY FUCK he tends to prefer people’s personalities to their looks. That said, he’s weak for a classy getup. Dogs or cats -  Literally anything BUT dogs.

layer five : do you…

Lie - Oh absolutely. To himself, most of all. Believe in yourself - Refer to previous point. He’s got himself conned into thinking he’s got it made. Believe in love - He covets the idea of love. It is a sacred, bright, burning thing that he cannot seem to touch or even look at for too long without it hurting him. Want someone - He tends to want things from people rather than people themselves, be it their attention, their praise, their fear. Whatever they can give him, he can use -- usually against them.

layer six : ever been …

Been on stage: Alastor found his start in theater, and it will always hold a special place in his heart. He is VERY passionate about the performing arts, and if there is one thing he will never abide, it’s interrupting a perfectly good musical number. Done drugs:  Nothing more intense than nicotine or alcohol, I don’t think. Changed who you were to fit in: Nobody REALLY knows who Alastor is, and he’d have it no other way.

layer seven : favorites

Favourite color -  Striking vibrant colors, generally -- purples and reds being among his top favorites. Favourite animal -  MM he strikes me as the type that would like birds? Maybe he did a lot of bird - watching when he was alive. Favourite movie - I wannaaaaa say ‘ Metropolis ’ because that movie is fuckin’ cool. Whatever movie it was, it was probably the first film he was able to see because he grew up so poor. Favourite game - Chess. He also enjoys a few of the card games Husk taught him to pass the time.

layer eight : age

Day your next birthday will be - SHRUGS. How old will you be -  Over 100. Age you lost your virginity - Early - to - mid twenties. Does age matter -  In what context? In relationships, he’s so damn choosy about that in general it probably does. In terms of prey, he won’t kill anyone below 13. He’s not above disciplining them, but believes he’s doing so out of their own best interest.

layer nine : in a person

Best personality - Someone lively, who can keep up with his energy and hopefully, can meet it in turn! Creativity is a big plus. Having a good sense of humor also helps. Best eye colour - Brown or blue. Best hair colour - I think he’s got a thing for blondes. Best thing to do with a partner - He does love a good song and dance number. I think even just casual contact, when he’s comfortable enough with someone, is enjoyable to him -- holding hands especially.

layer ten : finish the sentence

I love -  ... putting on a show! I feel -  ... cautious. I hide - ... my true nature. I miss - ...VERY rarely, so you’d best watch your head! Ha ha ha! I wish - ... that this interview was over!

[austenbacke04-blog]

Sex In Relationships

Married sex can the sex that is best in your life as you are having sex to your true love and not soleley anybody. Let's face it, intercourse is vital in almost any relationship that is marital. As newlyweds, we may crave intercourse due to the physical pleasure as you progress through the years in your marriage you may find that making love is more emotionally fulfilling than anything else that it brings us, but.

Sex is a physical act that everyone can will enjoy, but having sex is indeed more than that. It generates a psychological and religious relationship between both you and your spouse that takes your want to the level that is deepest. It is among the steps that are major creating a marriage between two heart mates and not simply two different people. Many studies over time demonstrate that married people who've sex often are more inclined to have an extended effective marriage compared to those partners that do not have sex often. Obviously, this proves the purpose that married intercourse plays an essential part in having a solid marriage. Just what exactly have you been waiting for? Get in that bedroom, or where ever enjoy having intercourse, and express that love for the mate. Okay, it might not be quite that easy for a few of you. You may have some psychological luggage that you will need to cope with either together with your mate or within your self. Let us see you work through some of these issues to improve your married sex life if we can help. Often the loss of loss and intimacy of these feelings of love and passion can be rekindled by going back to the fundamentals. That might suggest taking your spouse for a date and re-establishing those non-sexual feelings of love once more. Dating your spouse might seem a little uncommon for couples who have been hitched a time that is long but it is amazing just how quickly two married partners have the ability to reconnect with those lost thoughts. As soon as those thoughts get back married sex can become just as magical as it was within the first times after your wedding. The same as within the early days of one's relationship, romance is the key to maintaining those passionate feelings alive and well in your marriage. Romance requires understanding your mate's non-sexual wants and requirements. Why is them feel most liked? Is it an intimate love letter? A tender therapeutic massage? Quiet time that is talking them? Or some mixture of all this? Romancing your mate may be the ultimate seduction for the effective married sex-life. The more you give to your mate whatever they want and require away from bed room, the greater you shall get intimately. Be innovative and now have fun with this particular section of your relationship; you might want to challenge yourself to observe how lots of methods for you to romance your mate, but be warned you could find you'll be getting ultimately more sex than ever and you'll require the tiny blue tablet to keep up. Alright, that could be an exaggeration, but you can never ever show your mate love that is enough attention. Now let's explore some differences www.porn.vision that are important people in exactly what turns them on sexually. It is crucial which you know very well what turns in the opposite intercourse, specifically your better half. Women, guys are particularly visual. Then bring out the sexy lingerie, the bright red lipstick and strike that passionate pose if you want to get them all hot and bothered. There is nothing that gets a person turned on significantly more than bright colors, sexy clothes and an attractive girl, his spouse, passionately pursuing him. Remember, he could be creature that is visual show him everything you have to give you. Additionally women, your husband really loves whenever you are the intimately aggressive one from time-to-time. Once they only have intercourse when they request it or when they result in the first move, they start to feel less fulfillment inside their married sex life. They be a little more vulnerable to flirting that is sexual the cutie at your workplace or the area club. Do not let this take place by taking a couple of simple acts of intimate aggression toward your mate. A man absolutely loves for his wife become seductive and sexy, so take it on ladies. Gentlemen, your wife is extremely various than you with regards to firing up the passion. Women are very verbal. They would like to hear how gorgeous they're and exactly how much they are loved by you. You have to express your feelings out noisy and let her hear those sweet nothings. In addition they desire to be moved gently prior to the event that is"main starts. Provide your spouse a soothing, sensual massage, you'll be able to almost guarantee your self a crazy nights married sexual enjoyable and satisfaction.

[bthenoise]

Track By Track: Here’s Everything You Need To Know About Wolves At The Gate’s Powerful LP ‘Eclipse’

For nearly ten years now, Ohio post-hardcore outfit Wolves At The Gate have been providing some of the most consistent and thought-provoking heavy music around. From 2012′s scorching debut Captors to today’s fierce eye-opener Eclipse, Wolves At The Gate continue to churn out melodic yet hard-hitting records that make you want to both sing and scream along to.

Take the band’s latest LP, for example. For 13 straight songs, the Solid State signees are able to give listeners a wide range of emotions embodying the perfect balance of heavy and soft. Talking about the motivation behind blending these two contrasting styles together, vocalist/guitarist Stephen Cobucci says it all ties into the album’s name. 

“We named the record Eclipse because of how well it encapsulated the relationship the light and the dark can have,” he says. “An eclipse tells you that it's dark, but it takes truth and faith to know that the sun is still shining. All of this revolves around my walk of faith in believing the truths of the gospel message, seeking to help others find hope and peace in the love of God, as well as how to come to grips with various social/political/personal issues.”   

Giving fans an even further look into the brilliant work of art that is Eclipse, Cobucci sat down with The Noise to explain the meanings behind each and every song on the album. To check out the singer’s honest and open track by track rundown, be sure to look below. Afterward, make sure to pick up a copy of Eclipse here.   

The Cure

We're excited that this is the first track people hear on the new record because it truly captures the wide dynamics sonically and lyrically that we wanted to deliver. Both musically and lyrically it's a roller coaster of darkness, tension, and release. The whole album revolves around the idea of the light being obscured by the darkness and creating a “different reality.” This song is about how when that darkness comes, it creates a different reality that seems so real but is just a lie. This song cries out for help and grace in times of doubt and fear.

Face To Face

“Face To Face” probably went through the most changes to its structure. It was rewritten more times than I can remember. Our guitarist Joey believed in it from the first day he heard it and worked hard to help it get to its final stages. Regardless of all of those changes, the lyrical content remained the same. We so often fear having our weaknesses and flaws revealed, going to great lengths to ensure they are hidden from everyone to see. ... This song is about how I was forced to come to grips with many of my sins and weaknesses in order for me to see that there is forgiveness in the love of God. Even though accepting my own guilt seemed like death to me, it was the very thing that led me to trusting and resting in God's grace.

A Voice In The Violence

This song carries a lot of weight and emotion in it for us as a band. It's so easy to identify with feeling the burden of darkness in our hearts and minds as we wrestle with the sins and addictions that plague us. The lyrics carry a dialogue that goes back and forth between thoughts of falling into despair and then hearing the voice of truth calling me away from running headlong into the things that are killing and destroying me. We so often entertain this love affair with the sins, addictions, and vices that ruin us whether it be mentally, physically, or spiritually. These pursuits are always irrational and cause us to drown out the voice of God. The voice of truth. A voice that carries messages of hope, grace, and mercy. Yet the beauty in all of this comes in the fact that there is no hell too deep for God to pull us out of. It is in these darkest of times that God shows even more grace and love.

Drifter

Songs like this one are so important to us as a band because they've come from real heart-to-heart conversations. We're brothers. We bear each other's burdens. A lot of the time when you just bury away the pain, the hurt, the lies, the emotion, it tears you apart on the inside until it eventually begins to manifest on the outside. As an outsider looking in, I could see how Nick was being torn apart and was stuck spirally down the same road. Numerous songs throughout our career have come from these sorts of situations where Nick just spilled his heart and we were able to build him up in the truth reminding him of the greater love he has in Christ and how all his failure and sin was erased at the cross.

Enemy

We tend to think that the great enemies in our lives are “out there” while ignoring a certain truth that we ourselves tend to be our greatest enemies. The song begins with an arrogant and misguided fight against the "enemy" that is soon realized to be myself. This has been a humbling experience that I have been through many times in my life. I figured it was about time that I cataloged how this progression tends to go for myself and ultimately how my hope of escape from this is in the power of God.

Evil Are The Kings

This was the first song that came out when I started writing for this record and helped set the tone for quality and level I wanted all the other songs to be on. Our guitarist Joey played a big role in helping this song come together in the way that it did. He helped me restructure it in a way that really took advantage of the strengths of the song. In writing this song, I immediately knew what I wanted it to be about. As a society, we have amassed a world of knowledge, but it hasn't moved mankind one step further to making peace, stopping wars, curing racism, etc. If “knowledge is the power” then we are to be considered evil kings. Politics haven't moved the needle of solving any of these issues and all that has been revealed is that while there may be shifts in power and policy the greatest need we all have is for our hearts to be changed.

Eclipse

The music of this song was something I had written a long time ago but was never able to put all the pieces together. While on tour last year I was finally able to get all the pieces to fall together. Our drummer Abishai was critical in helping me structure the format of the song in its early stages. When I sat down to title all of these songs, I realized that an eclipse was the imagery that best encompassed the heart of this song. As I continued to think about this imagery and concept, I realized how it touched all of these songs in one way or another. Songs like this are very personal for me as I use them as outlets to be vulnerable with myself and with our fans for them to be encouraged by the fact that I often have the same doubts and fears that they may have. Yet while also having these same doubts and fears, there are still certain truths that we all can rest upon for peace and comfort.

Response

This song is a response to the Ghandi quote, "I like your Christ, not your Christians." The truth of this statement is not lost on me and to be honest, it grieves me. I can understand why people's view of “American Christianity” puts a bad taste in their mouth and am sadden by the fact that the name of Christ gets dragged through the mud and applied to people and organizations that do not represent what true faith is. When people hear that we are a Christian band, it immediately conjures up all sorts of thoughts, generally negative ones, yet I can understand why. I can see how it is really difficult for some people to separate emotional pain and damage caused by some wearing the name “Christian” from the one they claim to follow, namely Jesus. I say that in the lyrics of the song, “You find a lot of fault in me - I find it hard to disagree with you - I’ll own my crimes - My guilt has shut my mouth.” I'm not here to talk about myself, there isn't much good to say. But I believe in a good Savior. This strikes at the very heart of what we want people to see in our lyrics. Christianity is not about a person's ability to be perfect, but imperfect people trusting in a perfect Savior. Our guitarist Joey summarized the song well by saying, “The presence of hypocrisy does not equal the absence of God.” This song is a call to take your eyes off of messed up people and to take a look for yourself at who Jesus is.

History

I wrote “History” in light of all of the racial tension I see within our culture. I have dear friends that have been on the receiving end of this prejudice [and] it's sad that even after all this time and all we know this still is very present in the heart of our society. It is because we have tended to turn a blind eye to our past that we are ignorant [of] the present issues. Our culture does not have a healthy relationship with this issue and therefore it causes serious strife and conflict. Everyone is fighting for their side of the argument and in that fight there will only be victims. It's a wake-up call that identifying with political parties, the color of your skin, etc. puts you further into bondage and perpetuates this cycle of hatred and violence.

The Sea In Between

This song is an imagery of my salvation. I knew God existed and I knew I was separated from Him. I was on a shore and an endless sea separated us. The sea was a metaphor for my sin and my attempts to live self-righteously. I tried to live a perfect life and make up for all my failure and sin. Every time I navigated those seas, I failed, was destroyed, and was washed back to shore left with nothing. Yet in the goodness of God, Christ came and saved me, trudging through the sea that separated me from Him by dying the death I deserved.

Alone

I remember writing this song really late one night in my studio and how it all came together so quickly. Sometimes a song just seems to fall into place all in one sitting and that was the case for this song. Every piece of it came together that night including the vocals, but to no surprise, I struggled to figure out what to write about. It wasn't until many months after that I was thinking about the idea of how differently we all view this journey of life. For some, it is a terror. For some, joy. And I thought about the fact that however you view the destination of the journey affects how you experience it. If all you have to look forward to [is the] temporal aspects of life, then that can be incredibly bleak for many. And to others it may not seem like that big a deal but nothing we have here can be kept forever. If I can quote one of our older songs called “Morning Star”: I know this is a voyage, it's not my destination. My hope is not in what I can gain out of this life regarding physical things, but that in the fact that all good things I enjoy here are just a shadow of the joy it will be to know God and see Him face to face.

Counterfeit

There are a lot of voices out there vying for our attention. Voices that don't have our best interests in mind. Voices in the media, politics, and sometimes even our own minds that push an agenda based upon lies. This track was written as a sort of fight song against those things to give a voice back to those that desire to push back against those lies. I love how the pace and rhythm of this song perfectly fits the content. Hopefully this song can help give the listener a voice and words to say [and] combat these lies.

Blessings & Curses

It was actually our drummer Abishai who created the core of this song. He wrote a drum groove that he was really into and so he put a simple chord progression down to go with it. He showed it to me while we were on tour and it just clicked with me. As soon as I heard it I knew it needed to be one of our songs and we started working on it right then and there on tour. It has a crazy time signature and then at the end the time signature bounces back and forth, but you'd never know it, which is really cool. This is a song about betrayal, namely my betrayal. It puts me in awe of the fact that all I ever offered God was my betrayal and my curse and yet in return He gives me the blessing of His forgiveness and love.

[bluesakurablossom]

Life's Gift Of Love: Mikey's Love Story

Name: Skylar Richards Age: 18 Height: 5'7 Hair Color: None Eye Color: Green Skin Color: Pale white Ethnicity: American Personality: Loving, courageous, stubborn, sarcastic, artistic, and gentle hearted As teenage leukemia victim Skylar Richards stared death in the face she could not have imagined that the illness would lead her to love and happiness. For many years her life has been dominated by her desperate struggle against the disease, but in an echo of meeting and saving an orange banded turtle, she had found reason to live again. Can love really overcome a deadly obstacle? Chapter 1 Skylar's Pov...
Late in the winter of my eighteenth year, I decided I was severely depressed. Probably because I have one of the most deadliest diseases coursing the blood and bones. Leukemia. I have had this disease for over ten years now and there has been no signs of improvement. I rarely left my small apartment I rented in the middle of Manhattan except to leave to go to work. I often would just sit with the many pets that I own that I saved from critical situations and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to be thinking about death. Whenever you hear or read anything about leukemia, one of the most serve side effects is depression. But the fact is that depression wasn't a side effect, it was clear sign that I was dying. Well pretty much everything else is really. I have been living on my own for three years now since I left my mom. We really drifted apart after my dad had left me when he found out that I had been diagnosed with this disease. I think really she blames me for all of us not being together anymore. Even after I left thinking I would be finally able to get happy again having my own independence, it seemed to not change. Something just felt missing from my life. I went to my local hospital to see my regular doctor and she agreed that I was swimming in a pool of clinical depression and that I need to do something before it gets any worse. The chemotherapy I had been getting was depressing as hell. I had to met there every Thursday in the same room, laying on the same uncomfortable bed, and getting poked and prodded by needles. I was honestly at the point of why do I even bother still come in every week to get this treatment when it doesn't seem to be doing anything to help cure this. I would always get the treatments in the same arm and I feel like I have lost the feeling it in every time a needle get pushed in. I noticed that the nurses that would give me these treatments would tell me every time that I look like I have been improving, but really they are just masking the truth, trying to lift my spirits. When really they should just flat out tell me and not butter me up. Luckily my life did have some good in it. I had a really good paying job at the tattoo parlor near my place. I earned my license to start my own practice by the time I had turned seventeen. To celebrate, I even got my very first tattoo at the place I work at and they hired me just a week later. I was working my way up to take over the shop when my boss Bryan would retire and I was getting rather close. I never knew why I liked tattoos so much. I guess they just show what you really are inside, a true imprint of what makes you, you. I started getting into designing my own art work when I turned thirteen and continued on doing this until I applied for school to get my tattoo license. Even though that my job did give me some happiness and temporary relief from the depressing hell that I so call my life, it really just hurts me that I really have no one to be with or talk to. Sure I have my boss and co workers but they all have their own lives to attend to and family was out of the question. I was at home watching TruTv Top Funniest, trying to get a good laugh going after coming back from chemotherapy at the hospital, but the sound of my vibrating phone interrupted my attention. It was my mom. Me: I refuse to take anymore of this chemotherapy Mom: Do you want to get better or not? We have talked about this many times Skylar, you won't get better if you allow your stubbornness to get in the way Me: What's even the point?! I am not getting better, I am stuck where I have been for nearly over a decade! Mom: Skylar, you are a teenager nearly grown, you are not a little kid anymore. You need to try to find something to get your energy back up and go out and make friends, get out of the house, and live your life Me: Speak for yourself, I barely had a life after dad left me and you and I separating, and you are not the one with a deadly disease coursing through your body! I threw my phone on the couch refusing to answer anymore messages. I really hate that mom and I fight all the time. We were so close, she was my best friend in the whole world. But after dad left us, it seemed like that strong bonding chain just broke, like a pair of chain cutters came along and separated us both. I wanted my family back, this wasn't meant to happen. I was suppose to be getting all the love and support I need in order to cope and navigate through the difficulties of battling a life threatening disease. I wanted to be happy again. There is only one thing in this world that is shittier than someone like me getting cancer so young, is that I am allowing it to consume every bit of chance of happiness. About now I had enough and I had to get out of the house for a little while before I would scream. I got up from the couch passing my sleeping cat on her little bed curled up. She immediately woke up and followed me into my bedroom, jumping on my circular bed. "Hey Kisa you pretty kitty", I said, smiling a little petting her head My fluffy calico cat with yellow eyes purred rubbing her head against my hand. She always could help me bring a little smile to my face. I changed out of my sweats and slipped on a long sleeve pink shirt, putting a short camouflage shirt over it, and slipping into dark blue skinnies. I slipped on my pair of pink vans and I grabbed my short red bandanna tying it around my bald head. The day that when my hair started to fall out it was the saddest day of my life. I would just be taking fists full of my pale blonde hair and let it fall into the trash can. I opted to shave the rest of it off because so much was falling out at one time and it was covering everything. But for some reason I didn't cry when I saw my newly shaved head. To most people baldness is the sign of sickness, and even though I was told I had a beautiful head, I never saw myself that way. It looked like a permeant defeat. I had grabbed my green tote bag that was carrying my oxygen tank inside and I slipped on the breathing tubes up my nose and hang over my ears. I hated wearing these things. It made so vulnerable to the world, but I had to wear it to help with my breathing when it came to the smog that floated up in the air in this place I called home. I adjusted the pressure making high concentrated levels of oxygen fill up my nose. "Love you Kisa, see you later", I said, giving her ear a few scratches gently I grabbed my phone before putting it my pocket and locking my door on the way out. I walked down three flights of stairs before making my way out of the door and out on to the sidewalk. It was turning out to be a casual night, everything seemed to be pretty normal. Or so I thought. When I was walking along a quiet street I was feeling finally relaxed after dealing with the stresses of home, work and therapy. I considered my walks through the neighborhood to be a great therapy for me in order to relieve stress and break free, if only they could help me with leukemia. I heard my phone vibrate again and I checked to see it was mom again. I sighed annoyed as I continued walking reading her long text of why we are not so close anymore and why did I choose to do the things I wanted to do in life. I really didn't want to deal with it as I have already enough of her bickering from earlier. I clicked on the text and I clicked delete as the message went into the trash can. "Why do you think mom? Jesus christ", I said, to myself Right when I was about to walk again, my heart nearly stopped beating when a metal object was thrown in front of my face stabbing into the concrete, just barely an inch from hitting me. I could of literally seen my life flash before my eyes as I almost slipped backwards towards a staircase. "Holy chalupa", I said, panting hard I walked up to the object and I yanked it out of the wall and it was a flying ninja star. I recognized it from doing designs for some of my clients. It was really beautiful, even more than just seeing picture and designs. It was a gleaming silver with six sharp points and in the center was a design I have never seen before. There was a turtle in the middle of outlined in black. "Wow", I said, looking at the object with amazement I then heard screams as I barely had time to turn and duck down as another star came flying towards me barely snagging on my bandanna. "What in the world?!", I said I saw from across the street that there was an intense fight was being taken place. Not like a local street bar fight that would be easily defused by the police, I am talking about like mixed martial arts fighting. There were many men fighting some huge shadow and I tell you what he was kicking ass. One the men went charging towards him and he back flipped kicking him in the jaw, causing him to fall on his knees. Another man went up on his right, wielding a sword in his hand and he tried to strike at the huge shadow. But he was quick to jump back at each strike and he grabbed one of his arms and head butt him right in the face. "Ow, gonna feel that in the morning", I said, to myself I decided to get a closer look on the action and I snuck close enough at the edge of the alley and knelt down to keep a low profile, not wanting to become apart of it. Another man then used a long stick and grabbed a hold of him by choking him from behind. I gasped and I immediately grabbed the first thing I saw in front of me, an empty beer bottle and threw it across the air. "Duck!", I called out Luckily he heard me and duck his head down just in time as the bottle smashed into bits into the man's face. He then swooped his legs out from under him and he fell on his back. Another man then charged at him from the side and pinned him against the brick wall and he kneed him int he gut and ridge hand him on the side of the head, then side kicked him into a dumpster. I then saw one other man get up and pull out a long stick and I could see electricity between the two metal prods. He then struck him in the back, making the huge shadow scream in pain. "Oh god!", I said, to myself Two more came charging in with the same prods shocking him repeatedly. He struggled to reach out and crawl away from the torture devices, but one stomped on his back a few times with such brute force and even then stomping down on his head into the concrete, where I could slightly hear bones cracking. He groaned in pain before it started to silent, going unconscious from the electricity shocking him. Several men grabbed his huge muscular arms and began to drag him away as he limply laid against the ground. I knew this was beyond dangerous, but I wanted to help in some way without getting myself killed or the victim in the process. I then looked down at my tote bag and I unzipped it open seeing my oxygen tank inside and across from me was a metal pipe laying on the ground behind a pile of junk. I quickly reacted and pulled my tank out of my bag unhooking myself from it as I laid it on the ground and I grabbed the pipe and getting in front of the tank. "Hey dingbats!", I called out The figures stopped what they were doing and looked towards me, I then spun the pipe in my hand. "Surfs up!", I said I then whacked the metal pole down on the regulator on my tank smashing it open and the air entering the tank caused so much pressure that it started smoking up and it went flying like a rocket towards them. The tank crashed into one figure and it ricocheted off the brick walls knocking each figure to the ground, like a balloon letting all its air out releasing a cloud of smoke. The air tank smashed one more in the head before it landed on top of his chest, knocking the wind out of him. "Woo!", I said, doing a victory jump I picked up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder as I started making my way over towards the person those figures beating up. He was struggling to his feet and I started to jog over, but I stopped suddenly when I saw the huge size of this person crawl on his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet. I was not quite sure I would recognize someone that muscular. His muscles were huge in size, bigger than what I would see on a body builder. His long and slender shadow had covered me completely from the light of the lamp post above. Something was dangling around his neck in two strands, like long hair or dreadlocks or something. He didn't appear to have any hair on top of his head, kind of like me. He looked about my age, maybe a little older. His posture was poor as he stood up from the ground picking up a nunchuck. "Are you okay?", I asked, walking up He suddenly whipped looking me at in my direction, the prettiest blue eyes were looking at me. Even though I couldn't see his face so well I was already intrigued by the beauty of them. When I came closer making sure I didn't injure when I let my tank go flying, he took off running. A mixture of confusion and concern struck me as I started to run after him down the alley. "Wait! Wait! Come back! I won't hurt you!", I called out I then saw him jump against one of the buildings and jump across towards the other beside it, doing a zig zag. I skid to a halt as I reached the end of the alley and I looked up to the rooftop, to see he looked back down at me before taking off disappearing into the night. I then heard a flapping noise coming from behind me and I saw this artwork that looked to be in Japanese in orange and purple spray paint and there was a yellow sticky note right in front of the now dried graffiti. I gently took it off the brick wall and saw there was a message on it. "Thanks, I owe you one-Mikey" "Mikey?", I said, to myself I flipped over the note to see nothing more than just the message and I looked back up to the night sky where I guess now known as Mikey had disappeared to. How could a normal human have such ability to jump that high and disappear that quickly, let alone fight like a professional? I then looked back down at the note and held it with both of my hand and I saw at the bottom of the note there was smiley face winking. "Well then, I guess you owe me one...Mikey", I said

[c-secs]

39 Hours

Lexi had given her an earful before they docked on Aya.

It was becoming a pattern for the two of them. Ryder, too stubborn to be confined to bedrest, blatantly ignored her concerns and Lexi, too worried about the Pathfinder’s wellbeing to stop, continued to voice them. Ryder wasn’t spared her reproach even outside the Tempest. Lexi’s voice trilled in her ear over the comms as Ryder made her way through Aya’s bustling marketplace.

“When is the last time you slept?”

“Last night,” Ryder lied.

SAM interjected, “That is incorrect. It has been 39 hours since Ryder last entered any stage of the human sleep cycle.”

“Ryder!” Lexi’s outraged voice buzzed in her ear.

“Thanks, SAM.”

The marketplace hummed around her with a myriad of bright colors and the melodic lilt of angaran voices. The scent of the sun-ripened fruits on the stand to her right reminded her distantly of dragonfruit. It became sickeningly sweet the closer she got and she felt her stomach turn as she jogged up the steps away from it.

“You are injured, Ryder. And piling exhaustion on top of the laundry list of physical trauma you’re already suffering from isn’t going to help you heal. You need to be in the med-bay.”

“I have things to do,” Ryder argued without any real heat. Even if she was content to ignore Lexi’s concerns, she could at least admit that she was too tired to be short with her.

“What you have to do is rest. You’re doing no one any favors by putting yourself at risk.”

“I’ll be fine, Lexi.”

The asari huffed a sigh, “I understand you trained with a justicar, Ryder, but that doesn’t mean you still need to have the stamina of one.”

The memory of Tesseria stung just enough for Ryder to find her anger underneath her exhaustion.

“Noted. SAM, block Lexi’s access to this comm channel.”

“What?! Ryder I-”

“Yes, Pathfinder.”

The noise cut off with a satisfying squelch of static and then she was left with silence. The quiet allowed the soft noises of Aya’s back alleys to reach her. Distant murmurings. Shuttles overhead. Echoes of laughter from the Tavetaan. Ryder made her way through the thinning crowd that dissipated the closer she got to Resistance HQ.

This was the only place on Aya she ever truly felt at home. The rest felt too bright and lovely for her to relax. Evfra’s headquarters were much more subdued and solemn. Unlike the rest of Aya, the war was never forgotten here. The colors were muted, the faces of the angara drawn and tired, reports of death hummed on overtaxed terminals. This was a harsh place with a harsh man at the center.

Jaal had expressed to her that many in the Resistance feared Evfra de Tershaav. He was widely respected, but too harsh to foster any love or warmth from his people. The angaran military had been obliterated long before his time and he had singlehandedly taken the floundering Resistance from ashes and built it up with blood and bone until it loomed over the rest of Aya. He had not done so with any kindness or gentleness.

Jaal had also explained to her how the Resistance operated. They were split up into different cells and independent strike teams -therein, if one cell was captured, it wouldn’t compromise the rest of the Resistance. Evfra considered each member of the Resistance expendable.

Ryder respected that about him. Perhaps some part of her hoped to emulate that kind of control. He was a man who made few friends and kept himself at a distance from those under his command. That did not seem to hinder the success of the Resistance, either. If anything, it seemed to improve it. Ryder wondered if her leadership could ever aspire to that level of composure; if she could manage getting close enough to earn her team’s respect and yet far enough away to keep from forming attachments.

Evfra was alone at his desk when she arrived. He stood, regarding her with cold eyes.

“Pathfinder.”

He strode around the front of the desk and the light from the window splayed against the purple teal of his skin. A deep, grave scar ran the length of the left side of his face, all the way from the crown of his head to the powerful end of his chin. She traced the line with her eyes.

“I expect you to take good care of Jaal out there,” he surprised her by starting the conversation.

A low pain thudded in the back of her skull. She swore she could hear Lexi yelling at her from the Tempest.

“I will,” she said, “I’m sure he’ll return the favor.”

“Don’t worry about him. You saved the Moshae. That earned his loyalty.”

And what about yours? She wondered, but didn’t dare ask. He watched her with no hint of what emotion he might be considering her with. His eyes were the same color as his skin. A mural of pale blues, purples and teals.

“Still wrapping my head around what you found at the kett facility. That…exaltation,” he said.

He seemed to struggle with the last word. It wasn’t so much of a show of grief as it was one of fury disguised as incredulity. His voice was a low growl. It hummed in the empty space of the room.

“Knowing is half the battle,” she said, as if it was any consolation.

“I suppose,” he sighed, “It doesn’t change what we have to do, anyway. It’s war.”

Ryder had never known war before this. There were battles, of course. Terrorist cells in asari space that had to be dealt with, raiders that needed to be extinguished, even pirates that disrupted the peace during her brief stint with the Alliance. But she didn’t understand true war.

Understanding the angara was the first taste of the bitterness war left on the tongue. They had been fighting for so long that it was just a way of life.

She supposed humans had been like that once or twice in history, but their wars were usually rife with politicking, pride and more importantly -other humans. They had never experienced a war without reasoning, without provocation. A strange species had never stolen her people from their beds or made their bodies into cannon fodder.

She couldn’t understand what the angara had been through. But she was starting to.

“What do you need?” Evfra startled her again with the low unfurling of his voice.

Her mind felt fuzzy and distant. The medi-gel she’d been taking for the “laundry list” of injuries Lexi had berated her for were starting to wear off. Her entire body felt sluggish and too thin, as if she was made of a membrane that would tear at the slightest incitement.

“I figured now was a good time to compare notes. You’ve been fighting kett for a long time. You’re the best source of information we have right now.”

Disapproval creased his brow, “Your war is different than ours.”

“It’s still a war.”

He seemed to consider this for a moment and then said, “The kett are an unconventional enemy. They switch tactics constantly. Almost capricious about it. Makes them unpredictable.”

“They have to have some kind of weakness to exploit,” Ryder argued.

During her days with Tesseria, even their most unpredictable enemies had some sort of fissure that they could drive a stake into. Tess had taught her early on that every battle was a conversation between adversaries as they tried to discover each other’s weaknesses.

“They’re vulnerable to brute force. That’s enough,” Evfra said in a way that made it seem clear that the line of conversation was finished.

“But they have to care about something,” Ryder pressed on.

Tess had also taught her that if the enemy did not have an apparent physical weakness, then there was likely an emotional one that would work just as well, if not better.

Evfra sighed, “Slaves, resources, power. Same as any conqueror.”

“You didn’t see the exaltation process They treat it like religion.”

Remembering the facility, and subsequently the Cardinal, made her body throb in agony. It seemed like a race between her exhaustion and her injuries to see which could take her out first.

“You give them too much credit,” Evfra spat, “They convert us against our will. That’s not religion, it’s genocide.”

The corners of her vision became fuzzy and grew dark. The pounding in her skull knocked louder and louder, blocking out any plan of what her response might have been. She blinked a few times, wishing she was closer to the desk so she could brace herself on it.

Noticing her silence, Evfra cleared his throat.

The pain subsided mercifully. She gathered her faculties again with as much dignity as she could manage.

Perhaps it was the delirium and lack of sleep that prompted her next question, but it was out of her mouth before she could stop it regardless.

“What’s your story, Evfra?”

His face hardened. His pale eyes seemed to change into chips of ice as he growled out his answer, “You’re not getting my personnel file.”

Fair. Would she have responded any differently if he’d asked the same of her? Her head pulsed. She had the strange sensation that her eyeballs were vibrating inside her skull. She licked her lips and pushed down the feeling.

“I just like to know who I’m working with,” she said, “How did you become leader of the Resistance?”

He seemed to relent his anger a bit, grunting.

“Nothing to lose. My family was rounded up into a kett slave camp. Last contact I had with them was ten years ago.”

There was no obvious sadness to his voice, but she recognized something veiled in his expression. It was as familiar as if she were looking into a mirror. The angara were usually so open with their emotions. But she supposed Evfra never had that luxury.

Watching him hide his grief unsettled her.

“I’m sorry,” she said, her voice wooden.

Her vision began to blur in the corners again. She felt her heartbeat in her ears.

The angara sighed. There was a metallic edge to his voice when he spoke.

“You really want to know what it’s like being me?” He came closer to her.

His voice began to hum in her ears, as if she was hearing him through a pane of glass. The image of him and the colors of his skin swam in front of her. His shape distorted. His voice fractured.

“I wake up every morning to fight a war,” he said.

SAM suddenly spoke inside her head. “Ryder, your heart rate has slowed dramatically. Your blood pressure is in freefall.”

Her breath felt sticky inside her lungs. She struggled to keep Evfra’s image in focus.

“I send people to kill and die.”

“Your blood pressure is dangerously low, Ryder.”

“And if I’m lucky, there are more dead kett than Resistance when I go to sleep.”

“I suggest sitting or lying down to-”

That was the last thing she remembered.

When she opened her eyes, she was on the floor. Her body was propped up against something, though she couldn’t remember how exactly that had happened, or what exactly it was.

“Get Olvek from the infirmary,” a deep voice barked from above her head.

Closer to the door, another voice responded, “Yes, Evfra.”

As her senses came back to her, Ryder became aware of two hands firmly on her shoulders. And that whatever she was propped up against was breathing. She could feel the deep swell of an inhale under her shoulders. The heavy hands on her shoulder flexed.

“What happened?” she asked blearily.

“You were momentarily unconscious. I have alerted Dr. T’Perro,” SAM intoned.

Evfra, who she now understood was the firm pillar against which she was propped, had not heard SAM and grunted disapprovingly in response.

“You are injured and and foolishly overexerted yourself,” he said, “Something I would not suggest making a habit of if you are interested in surviving war with the kett.”

His words were delivered harshly, but he did not attempt to move her, nor did he lift his hands from her shoulders.

“You sound just like Lexi,” she mumbled, her mind still disjointed and bleary.

He did not deign to respond to that. He ignored her, another large breath lifting her body ever so slightly before his exhale let her melt back against his torso.

His hands flexed once more across her shoulders before he spoke. “I’ve alerted one of our medical staff to attend to you. Can you stand?”

“That’s not necessary,” she said after clearing her throat.

The more of her senses that came back to her, the more self-conscious she became. This was definitely unbecoming for a Pathfinder. Lexi was going to have her head.

She struggled to push herself off of him and get her feet under her. A wave of vertigo stalled her and her hand struck out, pressing firmly against his chest for purchase. The armor did not give at all and she felt the sturdiness of him underneath.

Evfra gave a tch of irritation before taking her elbow in one hand and her waist in the other. He eased her up from the floor near effortlessly, dwarfing her in every way. His shadow clambered over her and swallowed her whole as they both got to their feet and the light from the window spread out over his back.

He steadied her once and then released her when she didn’t immediately topple over. The pounding in her head had eased considerably, but now that she was standing she felt the full weight of her exhaustion. How she’d ignored it before was beyond her. She wondered if Tesseria would have been proud or reproachful.

“Thank you,” she tested her voice. He grunted, his pale eyes watching her carefully. He seemed on the verge of saying something else when another angara rushed into the room.

“Olvek,” he greeted the other angara with cool indifference.

“Apologies for the delay, is everything alright?” Olvek asked.

“The Pathfinder is unwell. I need you to escort her to the infirmary. A rest on one of the ion beds should suit her,” Evfra said, already walking back towards his desk.

“That’s really not necessary,” Ryder said quickly.

“If you intend to call yourself our ally, you’d do well to make sure you are fit to fight by our side,” Evfra said coldly, “My people have suffered long enough at the hands of inept leaders.”

Olvek looked between the two of them, obviously uncomfortable. Ryder stared hard at Evfra, unsure whether she was strong enough to make a scathing reply or not.

However, before she could formulate a response, something in his face softened. It was the barest hint of gentleness. She might have missed it had she not been studying the colors of his eyes so intently.

“If you want to help us, you must keep your strength,” he said. The command that came next had no room for argument. “Rest.”

Ryder suddenly felt weaker than she ever had before. Her body seemed to mewl pitifully, crying out for a bed. She had never been given such explicit permission to rest before. Tesseria had treated rest like a luxury. It was just another indulgence; one that others took for granted and justicars gave up up to comply with The Code.

But here was a man who was bred for an endless fight, who slept every night knowing he was waking up to a war and even he was telling her to rest. His dedication was the closest match to a justicar’s she’d seen since arriving in Andromeda. If she had to take anyone’s advice, she supposed he was a good authority.

“You’re right,” she said in a toneless voice.

“I’d be happy to clear a bed for you. I don’t know much about human physiology but at the very least you’ll have a place to rest,” Olvek piped up, smiling.

She did not return the smile, but cleared her throat and lifted her chin.

“Thank you for your time, Evfra,” she said with a respectful nod in his direction.

He nodded back, “Pathfinder.”

She allowed herself to be lead out of his quarters by Olvek, feeling Evfra’s pale eyes on her back until the doors closed behind them.

[freyjaiam]

Rise of the Siren (2/?)

note: my muse is running low on juice. this has been in my drafts for a while. i decided to just publish it. its a little short, but still... it’s something i guess. next chapter will have more of an ensemble interaction... And more of the Laurel/Mick i promised! ;p

“I’m just saying we shouldn’t have brought her on board until we all had a proper discussion about it.”

Mick rolled his eyes as he entered the library. The whole team was in there. Apparently discussing the decision to bring the alternate version of Laurel on board. Since he didn’t give two licks about it, he just took a seat and propped his booted feet up on the table while continuing to drink. The Professor and Blondie were squaring off. She had that look. The same one Pipes had when he’d called her ‘Toots’ not long ago. She had her hands on her hips and everything. The Professor wasn’t backing down though, despite the Kid trying to run interference. 

“We’re talking now. So let’s hear it Martin,” said Sara and Mick felt that admiration for the new Captain all over again when her voice got as frosty as Len’s used to when on the job. “Tell me your concerns.”

“Look, you miss your sister. I get that. Laurel was a remarkable woman. But that woman is not her, Sara. And I feel because she wears the same face as your deceased sister that your judgement is lacking.”

“You want to talk about a lack in judgement? How about Lily?”

“It is hardly the same!” protested Martin. 

“Isn’t it?” asked Sara, eyebrow perked. “We’re traveling across time to stop time apparitions. And you created one. Kept it from all of us. And it still remains unfixed.” She held up her hand as he opened his mouth, silencing him as she continued. “And don’t worry, I don’t plan on fixing it. But when it came to your daughter, Martin, you didn’t think clearly either.”

“Except she is my daughter. That woman is not your sister! Nor is she an apparition! She’s a criminal who should not be trusted.” Catching himself he looked to Mick. “No offense meant to you, Mr. Rory.”

“None taken,” he said, though he knew better. Despite everything, the Professor still didn’t trust him. Mick knew, when it came to him, the doc would never really trust him. Not that he gave a shit. 

“Gray.. Sara...” Jax, the peacemaker, stood between them. “Can we not fight right now? What’s done is done. How about instead of arguing. We make plans on how to deal with our guest?”

“I’m with Jax on that one,” said Nate.

“I vote we keep that collar on until we know her true intentions. What’s to stop her from trying to kill us all once we remove it? It isn’t safe. You must think of the team as a whole, Sara, and not just yourself.”

Sara was about to retort but it was that moment that Laurel walked back in. Everyone straightened and looked awkward. Save for Mick, who was still drinking his almost-gone beer. She looked around the room, her eyes narrowing as they came upon Stein and Sara. 

“Am I interrupting something?” She smirked, cocking out her hip as she jacked a thumb over her shoulder. “I could leave and come back later.”

“No. Stay,” said Sara. “We need to talk.”

“Then let’s talk,” said Laurel, shifting to sit on the surface of the table. She crossed her legs and arms and arched a brow. 

“Some members of the team aren’t comfortable with the idea of taking the collar off.”

“We had a deal,” said Laurel, her voice turning frosty. Lethal. Her eyes slowly moved around the room and when they landed on the older man they narrowed as he began to fidget. “What’s the matter, Old Man? Afraid I’ll slit your throat in the middle of the night? If I wanted to kill you... You’d be dead already. I wouldn’t need this collar off to do it.”

“See? This is why we-” started the man.

“Shut up, Gray,” said Jax.

“Both of you shut up,” said Sara before looking to Laurel. “Look. The collar stays on. If you have a problem with that. We can always turn around and drop you back into Central City.”

Laurel didn’t say a word. She just looked at those who stared at her in distrust before sliding off the table and heading to her room. She was well aware of the whispers behind her. She fought against the urge to hit something. When she got into her borrowed room... She started to plan. 

She would escape.

She would be no one’s prisoner.

.

.

.

“You just can’t help yourself... Can you?”

Stein looked up from his book with a frown as Jax entered his private quarters unannounced. He slowly closed the book, setting it aside before standing from his comfortable, leather chair. 

“What do you mean?”

“The judgement,” said Jax. “You did it with Snart. You do it with Mick... Hell, even Ray... Sometimes me!”

“I don’t-”

“You set this standard that, no matter what people do, if they don’t do what you would do: you judge them. You talk down at them. Hell, even if they DO do what you do... You still have a remark.”

“Jefferson-”

“Laurel is going to be here. She’s going to be on this ship. We’re all going to have to deal with it. It’s Sara’s choice. She’s the Captain. Sara assured us if Laurel stepped out of line... She’d be gone. Why can’t you just-”

“Because she’s a criminal. A killer! You heard what Barry said. She just about killed our friends in Central City!” Martin sighed. “And yes. So has Mick. So had Leonard. But they showed me, personally, that they were willing to work with us despite their colorful pasts. Until that version of Ms. Lance does the same I will continue to have my suspicions of her. I will continue to not trust her.”

“That’s the thing, Gray. Will you even give her a chance to do just that?”

Jax left Martin with something to think about the rest of the night.

.

.

.

“I’m sorry, you are not authorized to view that information.”

Laurel huffed out an annoyed breath. No matter what she did... She couldn’t get access to anything. Not even the basic layout of the ship! She spun away from the computer and started to pace. She couldn’t see mission files. Crew files. Basically... The only thing she could do on that damn computer was play a game of solitaire. She brought her hand up to the collar, fiddling with it. She stilled and closed her eyes. Gaining her composure. She just had to do things the old-fashioned way. She exited the library and just started walking. She’d come to random doors she wasn’t allowed to enter and would make mental notes of it. 

Private Quarters.

Engine room.

The shuttle. 

She came to the gym and smiled easily when the door opened to reveal someone inside. This was Ray. He had his hands wrapped and was hitting a punching bag. She watched him and shook her head as he hit the bag again and again.

“Your stance is all wrong.”

He stopped, the bag hitting him and making his shuffle slightly. He pulled strands of his sweaty hair out of his eyes before shaking his head. “I trained with the best teachers Star City had. My stance is fine.”

“Hm, if you say so.” Laurel shrugged a shoulder. “Not that I care if you get your ass kicked or not.”

Ray frowned at that, looking her over like she was some puzzle to figure out, before turning back to the bag. He hit it a few times then gasped as a sharp strike hit him at the knee. He fell to the floor, in slight pain, looking up at the woman who was looking down at him in amusement. And perhaps a little too much glee. She offered a hand and he reluctantly took it. 

“Your left side is vulnerable.”

“Laurel is correct,” said Gideon, always the helpful A.I.

“Then how do you think I should stand?” he asked.

What he didn’t know was, while Laurel showed him a better stance, she was jumping up and down on the inside. The man was showing her trust so easily. He would be easy to exploit when she needed a favor in the future. Laurel felt like if she ever needed to know something about anyone or anything... Ray would be the one to talk to. So, for now, she played along, the facade she had going on for her growing. When he thanked her and walked out of the gym with a wave (and slight limp) she mentally patted herself on the shoulder before looking around at the equipment in the room. 

Might as well train and keep her body in prime condition. There really wasn’t much else to do. At least, then, when it came for her time to escape... She’d be in top shape to do it. So she ran, lifted weights, did resistance training. It wasn’t until a few hours later that someone else even came into the room. It was the kid. Jax. He offered her a friendly enough smile and she shot one back. Perhaps he would be another one she could easily get into her corner. It didn’t take him long to open up about the crew. She found he was basically the mechanic... So of them all he knew the most about the ship. So, while she filed away what he told her, the start of her plan unfolded in her mind. 

What she didn’t know was, up on the bridge, Sara was watching her closely with a frown on her face. She studied the monitor, zooming in on the woman with her sister’s face, pondering what she had planned. 

“What are you up to...”

TBC...

[bluesakurablossom]

Life's Gift of Love: Mikey's Love Story

As teenage leukemia victim Skylar Richards stared death in the face she could not have imagined that the illness would lead her to love and happiness. For many years her life has been dominated by her desperate struggle against the disease, but in an echo of meeting and saving an orange banded turtle, she had found reason to live again. Can love really overcome a deadly obstacle? Chapter 1 Name: Skylar Anderson Age: 18 Height: 5'7 Hair Color: None Eye Color: Green Skin Color: Pale white Ethnicity: American Personality: Loving, courageous, stubborn, sarcastic, artistic, and gentle hearted Skylar's Pov... Late in the winter of my eighteenth year, I decided I was severely depressed. Probably because I have one of the most deadliest diseases coursing the blood and bones. Leukemia. I have had this disease for over ten years now and there has been no signs of improvement. I rarely left my small apartment I rented in the middle of Manhattan except to leave to go to work. I often would just sit with the many pets that I own that I saved from critical situations and devoted quite a bit of my abundant free time to be thinking about death. Whenever you hear or read anything about leukemia, one of the most serve side effects is depression. But the fact is that depression wasn't a side effect, it was clear sign that I was dying. Well pretty much everything else is really. I have been living on my own for three years now since I left my mom. We really drifted apart after my dad had left me when he found out that I had been diagnosed with this disease. I think really she blames me for all of us not being together anymore. Even after I left thinking I would be finally able to get happy again having my own independence, it seemed to not change. Something just felt missing from my life. I went to my local hospital to see my regular doctor and she agreed that I was swimming in a pool of clinical depression and that I need to do something before it gets any worse. The chemotherapy I had been getting was depressing as hell. I had to met there every Thursday in the same room, laying on the same uncomfortable bed, and getting poked and prodded by needles. I was honestly at the point of why do I even bother still come in every week to get this treatment when it doesn't seem to be doing anything to help cure this. I would always get the treatments in the same arm and I feel like I have lost the feeling it in every time a needle get pushed in. I noticed that the nurses that would give me these treatments would tell me every time that I look like I have been improving, but really they are just masking the truth, trying to lift my spirits. When really they should just flat out tell me and not butter me up. Luckily my life did have some good in it. I had a really good paying job at the tattoo parlor near my place. I earned my license to start my own practice by the time I had turned seventeen. To celebrate, I even got my very first tattoo at the place I work at and they hired me just a week later. I was working my way up to take over the shop when my boss Bryan would retire and I was getting rather close. I never knew why I liked tattoos so much. I guess they just show what you really are inside, a true imprint of what makes you, you. I started getting into designing my own art work when I turned thirteen and continued on doing this until I applied for school to get my tattoo license. Even though that my job did give me some happiness and temporary relief from the depressing hell that I so call my life, it really just hurts me that I really have no one to be with or talk to. Sure I have my boss and co workers but they all have their own lives to attend to and family was out of the question. I was at home watching TruTv Top Funniest, trying to get a good laugh going after coming back from chemotherapy at the hospital, but the sound of my vibrating phone interrupted my attention. It was my mom. Me: I refuse to take anymore of this chemotherapy Mom: Do you want to get better or not? We have talked about this many times Skylar, you won't get better if you allow your stubbornness to get in the way Me: What's even the point?! I am not getting better, I am stuck where I have been for nearly over a decade! Mom: Skylar, you are a teenager nearly grown, you are not a little kid anymore. You need to try to find something to get your energy back up and go out and make friends, get out of the house, and live your life Me: Speak for yourself, I barely had a life after dad left me and you and I separating, and you are not the one with a deadly disease coursing through your body! I threw my phone on the couch refusing to answer anymore messages. I really hate that mom and I fight all the time. We were so close, she was my best friend in the whole world. But after dad left us, it seemed like that strong bonding chain just broke, like a pair of chain cutters came along and separated us both. I wanted my family back, this wasn't meant to happen. I was suppose to be getting all the love and support I need in order to cope and navigate through the difficulties of battling a life threatening disease. I wanted to be happy again. There is only one thing in this world that is shittier than someone like me getting cancer so young, is that I am allowing it to consume every bit of chance of happiness. About now I had enough and I had to get out of the house for a little while before I would scream. I got up from the couch passing my sleeping cat on her little bed curled up. She immediately woke up and followed me into my bedroom, jumping on my circular bed. "Hey Kisa you pretty kitty", I said, smiling a little petting her head My fluffy calico cat with yellow eyes purred rubbing her head against my hand. She always could help me bring a little smile to my face. I changed out of my sweats and slipped on a long sleeve pink shirt, putting a short camouflage shirt over it, and slipping into dark blue skinnies. I slipped on my pair of pink vans and I grabbed my short red bandanna tying it around my bald head. The day that when my hair started to fall out it was the saddest day of my life. I would just be taking fists full of my pale blonde hair and let it fall into the trash can. I opted to shave the rest of it off because so much was falling out at one time and it was covering everything. But for some reason I didn't cry when I saw my newly shaved head. To most people baldness is the sign of sickness, and even though I was told I had a beautiful head, I never saw myself that way. It looked like a permeant defeat. I had grabbed my green tote bag that was carrying my oxygen tank inside and I slipped on the breathing tubes up my nose and hang over my ears. I hated wearing these things. It made so vulnerable to the world, but I had to wear it to help with my breathing when it came to the smog that floated up in the air in this place I called home. I adjusted the pressure making high concentrated levels of oxygen fill up my nose. "Love you Kisa, see you later", I said, giving her ear a few scratches gently I grabbed my phone before putting it my pocket and locking my door on the way out. I walked down three flights of stairs before making my way out of the door and out on to the sidewalk. It was turning out to be a casual night, everything seemed to be pretty normal. Or so I thought. When I was walking along a quiet street I was feeling finally relaxed after dealing with the stresses of home, work and therapy. I considered my walks through the neighborhood to be a great therapy for me in order to relieve stress and break free, if only they could help me with leukemia. I heard my phone vibrate again and I checked to see it was mom again. I sighed annoyed as I continued walking reading her long text of why we are not so close anymore and why did I choose to do the things I wanted to do in life. I really didn't want to deal with it as I have already enough of her bickering from earlier. I clicked on the text and I clicked delete as the message went into the trash can. "Why do you think mom? Jesus christ", I said, to myself Right when I was about to walk again, my heart nearly stopped beating when a metal object was thrown in front of my face stabbing into the concrete, just barely an inch from hitting me. I could of literally seen my life flash before my eyes as I almost slipped backwards towards a staircase. "Holy chalupa", I said, panting hard I walked up to the object and I yanked it out of the wall and it was a flying ninja star. I recognized it from doing designs for some of my clients. It was really beautiful, even more than just seeing picture and designs. It was a gleaming silver with six sharp points and in the center was a design I have never seen before. There was a turtle in the middle of outlined in black. "Wow", I said, looking at the object with amazement I then heard screams as I barely had time to turn and duck down as another star came flying towards me barely snagging on my bandanna. "What in the world?!", I said I saw from across the street that there was an intense fight was being taken place. Not like a local street bar fight that would be easily defused by the police, I am talking about like mixed martial arts fighting. There were many men fighting some huge shadow and I tell you what he was kicking ass. One the men went charging towards him and he back flipped kicking him in the jaw, causing him to fall on his knees. Another man went up on his right, wielding a sword in his hand and he tried to strike at the huge shadow. But he was quick to jump back at each strike and he grabbed one of his arms and head butt him right in the face. "Ow, gonna feel that in the morning", I said, to myself I decided to get a closer look on the action and I snuck close enough at the edge of the alley and knelt down to keep a low profile, not wanting to become apart of it. Another man then used a long stick and grabbed a hold of him by choking him from behind. I gasped and I immediately grabbed the first thing I saw in front of me, an empty beer bottle and threw it across the air. "Duck!", I called out Luckily he heard me and duck his head down just in time as the bottle smashed into bits into the man's face. He then swooped his legs out from under him and he fell on his back. Another man then charged at him from the side and pinned him against the brick wall and he kneed him int he gut and ridge hand him on the side of the head, then side kicked him into a dumpster. I then saw one other man get up and pull out a long stick and I could see electricity between the two metal prods. He then struck him in the back, making the huge shadow scream in pain. "Oh god!", I said, to myself Two more came charging in with the same prods shocking him repeatedly. He struggled to reach out and crawl away from the torture devices, but one stomped on his back a few times with such brute force and even then stomping down on his head into the concrete, where I could slightly hear bones cracking. He groaned in pain before it started to silent, going unconscious from the electricity shocking him. Several men grabbed his huge muscular arms and began to drag him away as he limply laid against the ground. I knew this was beyond dangerous, but I wanted to help in some way without getting myself killed or the victim in the process. I then looked down at my tote bag and I unzipped it open seeing my oxygen tank inside and across from me was a metal pipe laying on the ground behind a pile of junk. I quickly reacted and pulled my tank out of my bag unhooking myself from it as I laid it on the ground and I grabbed the pipe and getting in front of the tank. "Hey dingbats!", I called out The figures stopped what they were doing and looked towards me, I then spun the pipe in my hand. "Surfs up!", I said I then whacked the metal pole down on the regulator on my tank smashing it open and the air entering the tank caused so much pressure that it started smoking up and it went flying like a rocket towards them. The tank crashed into one figure and it ricocheted off the brick walls knocking each figure to the ground, like a balloon letting all its air out releasing a cloud of smoke. The air tank smashed one more in the head before it landed on top of his chest, knocking the wind out of him. "Woo!", I said, doing a victory jump I picked up my bag and slinging it over my shoulder as I started making my way over towards the person those figures beating up. He was struggling to his feet and I started to jog over, but I stopped suddenly when I saw the huge size of this person crawl on his hands and knees, trying to get to his feet. I was not quite sure I would recognize someone that muscular. His muscles were huge in size, bigger than what I would see on a body builder. His long and slender shadow had covered me completely from the light of the lamp post above. Something was dangling around his neck in two strands, like long hair or dreadlocks or something. He didn't appear to have any hair on top of his head, kind of like me. He looked about my age, maybe a little older. His posture was poor as he stood up from the ground picking up a nunchuck. "Are you okay?", I asked, walking up He suddenly whipped looking me at in my direction, the prettiest blue eyes were looking at me. Even though I couldn't see his face so well I was already intrigued by the beauty of them. When I came closer making sure I didn't injure when I let my tank go flying, he took off running. A mixture of confusion and concern struck me as I started to run after him down the alley. "Wait! Wait! Come back! I won't hurt you!", I called out I then saw him jump against one of the buildings and jump across towards the other beside it, doing a zig zag. I skid to a halt as I reached the end of the alley and I looked up to the rooftop, to see he looked back down at me before taking off disappearing into the night. I then heard a flapping noise coming from behind me and I saw this artwork that looked to be in Japanese in orange and purple spray paint and there was a yellow sticky note right in front of the now dried graffiti. I gently took it off the brick wall and saw there was a message on it. "Thanks, I owe you one-Mikey" "Mikey?", I said, to myself I flipped over the note to see nothing more than just the message and I looked back up to the night sky where I guess now known as Mikey had disappeared to. How could a normal human have such ability to jump that high and disappear that quickly, let alone fight like a professional? I then looked back down at the note and held it with both of my hand and I saw at the bottom of the note there was smiley face winking. "Well then, I guess you owe me one...Mikey", I said