drown on solid ground

The North and South Node Axis

aren’t about ditching one aspect of yourself to reach another- it’s about meeting in the middle, finding balance between two opposing parts of yourself, letting them flow together into a softer form.

–look at the houses your axis falls in too!–

Aries-Libra: About finding respect for self and others. Balancing boisterous self-expression with active reciprocation of others. learning how to give straight answers, how to say “NO” and stick with it. Listening without bias. Actively expressing love. Flaming goddess energy. Feeling secure initiating as well as in just being present. When to sing and when to scream. Listening to your head and your gut.

Taurus-Scorpio: Understanding what security really means. Knowing what’s yours and what’s not. Trusting. Testing. Being comfortable in dark situations. Deepening and stabilizing the world. Finding a powerful sense of self, rooting in oneself. The ability to weather any storm. Uncrushable resilience. Excess versus abstinence. When to stand on solid ground and when to drown. Deep knowing.

Gemini-Sagittarius: Absorbing and applying knowledge. When to listen and when to talk. Being both the student and the teacher. Immersing oneself in something new. Knowing what you’re made of and where it’s taking you;the boundary of your neighborhood and the world beyond it. Expanding the mind and the soul. Taking steps towards knowledge. Finding meaning in being childlike. Adapting your inner and external worlds, always questioning. Laughing away fear. Always morphing into something new.

Cancer-Capricorn: The meeting place between where you’ve been and where you’re going. Comfort versus pressure. Flowing effortlessly within structure. Building a home for yourself. Being your own parent, a comforting authority figure. Letting go of rigid views of life. Tranquility in action. Space to unwind. Releasing archaic ideas of family. Family serves as a restriction. Maintaining an active balance between life within and outside of the home. Becoming an authority on the past- museum curation, historians, connecting the dots of the past. Growth versus acceptance.

Leo-Aquarius: Performance versus detached observation. Becoming a dynamic individual. Being a hub of knowledge. Showing others what makes you unique. Giving others an outlet for their own self-expression. Learning through play. Toying with abstract thoughts. Listening to the collective, becoming a vessel for the collective. Learning your personal role in the grand design. Crafting an infinitely-adapting identity. A surprising identity. Turning thought into action. Creative friendships. Crafting new realities. Balancing the abilities to detach and to unify.

Virgo-Pisces: Giving yourself what you need to heal- physically and spiritually. Listening to your body, creating space in the body by releasing tension. Having a structured method to ease the spiritual;astral body. Healthy rituals for losing oneself. Releasing guilt about not always being capable of caring for others. Secluding oneself shamelessly, Building adaptable boundaries to protect the sensitive inner self. Constructively using the immense, fluid inner world. Using routine to dissolve one’s boundaries. Reflection on the body and its needs. Becoming intimate with details. Being a vessel for feelings of infinity.

Goddesses

AN: the reader is a grounder who was captured by the ice nation and tortured, but the commander isn’t willing to let you go, not you.
Characters: Queen Nia, Commander Lexa
Pairings: Lexa x reader
Spoilers: none
Warnings: none
Prompt: “Hey i was hoping maybe you could do an imagine if they arent closed? If theyre open i was hoping for something along the lines of a lexa x reader where the reader had been captured and tortured by azgeda but after lexa had gotten her back?”

———–
The pain you felt was unimaginable, like nothing you’d ever experienced but, as one of the Azgeda Warriors dug the tip of his blade deeper and deeper into your skin, you pulled against the chains that were holding you up, bit down on the back of your jaw and refused to scream. Your body was a wreck, one part burns, two parts bruises and three parts cuts and you knew, deep down, that this would be the place where you died. Alone, far from your home, far from your people, and far from your commander.

The memories of your last free day swam before your eyes. You remembered the sun on your face, the steady movement of your horse under you, the laughter and jokes passing between yourself and the other guards, and Lexa’s smile, warm and easy. It had been a difficult year for your clan, with Azgeda kicking up a fuss at every opportunity they had everyone had been on edge. This trip was supposed to mark the end of that, Azgeda had officially joined the coalition so now, everything was supposed to go back to normal. Your people would finally have peace.

Of course, that’s not what had happened. Two days into your journey back from Polis you’d been attacked and you’d thrown yourself in front of Lexa, screaming at the guards to get themselves and the commander back to safety. You’d let yourself be captured and, in doing that, you’d given the rest of the guard time to get Lexa to safety. Although the attackers had been unmarked, you knew they were Azgeda. Queen Nia had seen her opportunity to derail Lexa once more, and she’d taken it. That trip was four days ago.
Despite the torture, you couldn’t get yourself to regret your decision, as the head of the Commander’s security detail, You’d done your job, you’d protected Lexa and because of that, the good work she was doing could continue.

Not that that thought eased the pain.

The door to your prison opened wide, letting in a burst of ice-cold air that momentarily shocked your system and soothed your aching body. A menacing silhouette stormed in, her crown and fur coat making her seem more monster than woman; Queen Nia, your captor. Despite yourself, you felt your heart stutter.

“Anything?” She demanded, barking at your guard.

He shook his head, bowing before his queen, “Nothing yet your highness. She’s been trained well.”
The queen made a noise of displeasure and grabbed your jaw, forcing you to meet her cold clinical stare. She scanned your face, as though searching for signs of weakness in your eyes.

“Of course she was. Do you think Trikru would let a novice guard their precious commander?” Nia asked, her lip curling.

The guard shuffled, and you tried no to wince as Nia pressed her fingers into your jaw harder and harder.

“Well?” She snapped, “You obviously have something to say, so out with it.”

The guard flinched, and you felt a sick sense of satisfaction at seeing his discomfort.

“I mean no offense, my queen, but if she won’t give up information, why bother taking her?”

Nia cocked her head to the side, still studying you, as you imagined stabbing your knife into her skull, again and again and again.

“She belongs to Lexa,” Nia said, “by taking her, we are giving Lexa the opportunity to ruin herself, and her precious little coalition.” She explained, “Soon enough Lexa will come back to Azgeda to attack me, and the whole thing will crumble; all so she can save this little thing.”

Nia released your jaw and moved to discuss something with your guard. As you processed her words, you felt something bubble up in your chest unexpectedly; laughter. It burst out of you like a tidal wave, echoing across the stone room. The queen turned back to you, something like rage flickering across her face.

“You’re-you’re insane.” You told her through your laughter, “You’re completely insane.”

“Oh?” Nia responded, her voice dangerously calm, “And what makes you think that?”

You shook your head, your body still shaking with fits of chuckles, “Lexa won’t come looking for me. Your plan is intrinsically flawed.”

The queen’s lip curled into a cruel sneer, “Oh but she will. I know she will, she won’t be able to help herself.”

“You’re wrong.” You insisted.

“I’m not. Lexa will come to my keep, she will demand to see you, she will kill many of my people in her rage and then, when I, like the gracious queen I am, allow her to search my castle, she will find nothing.” Nia assured you, her sneer still in place.

You felt something like ice flood your veins. It had never occurred to you that you weren’t in queen Nia’s palace but, it made a sick kind of sense. Her advisors will never let her do anything so foolish, you reminded yourself, she won’t come looking for you. You will die here. You felt your body relax.

You shook your head again, “You’re wrong.” You whispered again.

“We’ll see.” Nia responded. She looked to your guard as she walked away and simply said, “Break her.”

And you felt death touch your shoulder.

———-

The day passed in a haze of pain and exhaustion and, after your voice was hoarse from screaming, you let your mind wonder, clinging to the memories of your home; of brown hair and flashing green eyes. On a normal day, you would’ve shaken your head and forced your thoughts away from Lexa, reminding yourself that she was your commander and that these thoughts were inappropriate but you were going to die, there could be no harm in it now. So you let yourself imagine that you were home with her, that you were together, holding one another. It was a beautiful thought.

As day turned to night, you became aware of the fact that you were singing. Nothing special, just nonsense songs from your childhood, ones that your mother had sung to you to help you sleep. Somehow, it helped.
You knew that you were dying. The combination of bleeding, beating and lack of food and water was sapping the strength from your body, and you knew that it wouldn’t hold up for much longer. You felt woozy, everything was fuzzy and thick, you thought that you’d heard noises, but you flicked the thought away. Your eyelids felt heavy, and you barely noticed as the thick door burst open and people came rushing in.

Everything felt like a dream, and you smiled in a dopey fashion as one of the new members ran his sword through your guard. A familiar voice barked your name, and you vaguely felt as someone pressed their hands to your skin. You smiled at the person as her eyes seared into yours and, as you slipped out of consciousness, their greenness stuck with you.

———–

Eventually, it was the coolness that woke you, the feeling of someone pressing a damp cloth to your forehead. Your eyes fluttered open and your first instinct was to frown. The surface above you didn’t look like stone, in fact it looked rather like…

You sat up, ignoring the wave of dizziness that flooded through you and the way your body screamed for you to lie back down. The healer beside you jumped back, obviously terrified, but she looked familiar.

“You shouldn’t be moving so soon,” an even more familiar voice called, sending shivers down your spine, “you’re hurt. Take it slow.” Lexa’s eyes clung to yours as she leant against the doorframe, “You’re home, you can relax.”

Your body began to shake as Lexa’s voice flooded over you like a blanket of comfort and, to your horror, you whimpered and tears started to leak from the corners of your eyes. You hadn’t cried since you were a child, and it horrified you to think that Lexa was seeing you be so weak. You braced yourself against the cutting comment that you were expecting, that you had heard Lexa make to others over the years, but it never came. Just as you broke down, Lexa dismissed the healer and rushed to your side, sitting down on your bed and pulling you against her chest.

“Shh, it’s okay.” Lexa whispered, stroking her fingers through your hair comfortingly, her voice oddly strained, “It’s okay my brave warrior, you’re safe, you’re safe, I’ve got you.”

You sobbed for what felt like hours, caught somewhere between relief, confusion and fear and tried to ignore how amazing it felt to be close to Lexa like this. She whispered comforting words into your ear, keeping you close and promising that you were safe with her. Eventually, you ran out of tears and just sat with your commander, your head nuzzled between Lexa’s shoulder and neck, trying to find a patch of solid ground to keep you from drowning. Everything about this was wrong. You should be dead, you should be, why aren’t you dead? And was Lexa’s arm really around you? Was she really stroking your hair and squeezing your shoulder? You nuzzled into Lexa’s skin, breathing in her scent. She stiffened beneath you and you suddenly realized how many lines you’d crossed in the he past hour. You flushed with guilt and sat up picking up the cooling pack that the healer had dropped and pressing it to your split lip, avoiding meeting Lexa’s eyes as you leant back against the bed’s headboard.

“I’m sorry Heda,” you said, your voice raspy and hoarse, “that was inappropriate. I shouldn’t have let my emotions get the best of me.”

Lexa reached out, as though she was about to touch you, but stopped and instead just looked at you, as though she was drinking you in. Her eyes were tinged with red, as though she’d been crying, it made something in your chest flutter.

“Are you okay?” Lexa asked, her voice still strained.

You nodded, which felt like a lie, because you were very much not okay, but you never could bring yourself to worry Lexa.

From the look she gave you, it didn’t seem like she’d bought it. Lexa gestured at your torso, which you were cradling with your arm.

“Can I-would it be okay if I checked that?” Lexa stuttered, sounding unsure.

This shook you, because you were pretty sure Lexa had never been unsure about anything in her life. It almost made you smile. Almost. If your face hadn’t been flushing at the idea of Lex seeing your mottled skin that is. Despite that, the idea of having Lexa’s hands on you again was far too tempting, and you nodded.
Slowly, Lexa reached out and lifted the hem of your shirt. Unable to bare the horrified look that you were sure would be on her face, you shut your eyes. You heard a soft whimper, a strangled little cry that made you open them again. Lexa’s face was pulled tight, her eyes welling up with tears and you noticed, with a sense of shock, that her hands were shaking. She looked so lost, so frightened, so helpless; it made you feel sick with guilt, but it also made you feel remarkably more calm. In all your years working with Lexa, you’d never seen her look so young.
Suddenly, you remembered the discussion you’d had with Nia, how sure she’d been that Lexa would come looking for you, and she’d been right. Despite the risks, despite how stupid it was, she’d saved you. You dropped your hands to cover Lexa’s making her look up.

“It’s okay.” You told her, forcing yourself to sit up, wincing at the pain, “I’ll heal. I always do.”

Lexa nodded, but she didn’t look any less frightened.

“Lexa,” you asked quietly, “why did you rescue me?”

Her head shot up, “What?”

You blushed, but held her gaze, “Why did you rescue me? You could’ve-you could’ve ruined everything. Why?”

Lexa’s mouth opened and shut again, and you watched the cogs in her head spin.

“Y/N, I-it’s you,” she explained lamely, “how could you think that I-“ she petered off.

“I’m just a guard Lexa, I’m expendable, you’re not. You should’ve let me die.”

Lexa shook her head, suddenly clasping your hands firmly, “No, no you’re not expendable Y/N. You’re-I couldn’t let you go! I wanted to go looking for you the second they took you, but they wouldn’t let me. Gods above Y/N I was so scared. I couldn’t lose you, not the way I lost Costia. Do you understand that? I couldn’t lose you.”

You were shocked, and something in you lit up like a fire. Things felt, different, somehow, and you leant forward, cupping Lexa’s cheek with your hand to calm her down.

“Shh, it’s okay, I’m okay.” You promised, “But Lexa, you can’t just risk the coalition for a subject, I’m not worth that. What would’ve happened if you’d stormed Nia’s palace hmm? What then?”

A flicker of anger ran through Lexa’s eyes, but she leant into your hand as though it was anchoring her, “I would’ve torn it down brick by brick, and then burnt down the whole of Azgeda to find you.” She said, her voice stable and completely even and you shivered under its intensity. You believed her.

“Lexa,” you started, your voice breaking, “please-“

“What Y/N? Are you in pain? What do you need, just tell me and I’ll get it.”

“I want to know why you’re doing all of this for me.” You admitted, your chest aching.

The commander was suddenly very still, as though you’d sucked all the air from her lungs and she wasn’t sure how to move forward. You waited for Lexa to answer, your heart pumping in your chest at a million miles per hour. She said nothing.

“Lexa, please, tell me what’s going on.” You asked, a note of pleading in your voice.

The next thing you registered were Lexa’s lips on yours and her hands tangled in your hair. Every single cell in your body was burning as you kissed back, your head spinning at the realization that the woman of your dreams was kissing you, her body flush against yours. How could this be happening? You thought of pulling away, but Lexa kept you close, whimpering every time your lips left her’s for even a second. Oh Gods above, this was happening. You practically vibrated with happiness because this, this felt right. This explained so much, this was everything you’d ever wanted.

As your confidence grew, you bit down on Lexa’s bottom lip, drawing a guttural moan from the woman that did something sinful to you. She pulled you onto her lap, murmuring praises into the skin of your neck, her lips lighting you up and filling you with need. Lexa squeezed your waist, and white hot pain shot through your body, making you cry out.

Lexa instantly pulled away, her brow creased with worry, “What’s wrong Hebe, did I hurt you?”

“Yeah, but it’s alright I-wait, what did you call me?” You asked, giving Lexa a surprised but not unhappy smile.

The commander blushed, but kept your gaze as she sat up and pressed gentle kisses to the skin of your jaw. This wasn’t frenzied, filled with need and desire like before, it was soft and tender, as though Lexa were worshipping your skin instead of just kissing it. You’d never imagined Lexa like this, so passionate and open and vulnerable, like it physically hurt her to keep her hands off of you.

“Hebe.” She repeated, her voice warm and smooth as syrup, “The Goddess of ever-lasting youth and beauty, mistress of elegance and charm.” You chuckled, and she continued, “I saw you in the market and, God, you just looked so beautiful, I had to know who you were. I asked everyone, but no one, no one knew your name.” Lexa told you, sounding frustrated about that even now, “So I just kept calling you Hebe, and iI thought that that would be the end of it, but then one day you walked into my throne room, all decked up in your guard’s gear and I just,” she sighed into your neck as you started running your fingers through her hair, “God I wanted you so badly, and it didn’t help that you were always so goddamn oblivious.” She sounded absolutely wrecked, like you were pulling her apart piece by piece, “And then I got to know you, and it just got so much worse because you’re so funny, and sweet and adorable and strong and it was like a virus and I just couldn’t stop thinking about you. Everyday I just wanted to see you and spend time with you but I couldn’t, and then you were gone and Nia was going to take you from me and I couldn’t have that-I couldn’t lose you because I just love you so much and-“ she froze, as though suddenly the flood of unstructured words that had been pouring out of her mouth had dried up.

Your answering smile was radiant and you pulled Lexa in for a heart-breakingly tender kiss, pouring years and years of silent pining into it in the hopes that, if you could just kiss her hard enough, you could stop time and just live in this moment forever.

“I love you too.” You admitted, “I never thought you could ever-“

“What? Love you?” Lexa asked incredulously, “Y/N, it’s you, who else could I ever-? There could never be anyone else.”

You pressed your forehead against hers, relishing in the feeling of being together. Lexa sighed, her body relaxing into yours like they were made for each other.

“I love you so much Y/N.” She told you, “I swear to you, I’ll never let anyone hurt you ever again.”

“I’m the head of your guard Lexa, that’s not possible. My job is to get hurt so that you don’t have to.”

Lexa smirked, “Looks like I’ll just have to work harder for peace then.” She said, “Because I’ve just gotten started with you Hebe, and I’m not ready to lose you yet.”

There are no words here

That will fold neatly into your seams

Nor ones that will tie things up

With a pretty, complete bow.

There are no more songs

For you to delve into their lyrics

Searching for a message hidden in a chorus

Or strung between a melody.

I have nothing more for you;

No love hiding in random corners

No desire to wring from a heart that doesn’t belong to you

No time to play into your addicts cycle

That searches for one more fix of us.

Us is no longer a word that defines you and I
Any more than apathy can define encouragement.
What are you waiting for?
People wait for something to come
But I am neither coming back to you
Nor coming to any realization
That involves anything that should remotely inspire hope;
That ship has sailed,
Stop drowning yourself in memory
And get yourself on solid ground
So that you can walk away.

© Courtney Turley 2017

anonymous asked:

Soulmate au n8 +lay please ♡♡

thank you for your request lovely!


Disoriented 
Soulmate AU 

Pairing: Lay (EXO) x Reader
Genre: Fantasy Angst/Romance
Word Count: 1,325

#8: If you and your soulmate touch, you can see into each other’s past, present, and future.

Originally posted by yixingofficial

The waves were quite big that day, crashing against the sand with a vengeance. You weren’t particularly frightened though since you were accustomed to the harsher water and it gave you a thrill. Because of the waves and the fairly odd weather, there weren’t many people at the beach that day, which was a plus for you. It basically meant you got the whole ocean to yourself.

Though the wind had picked up, causing the waves to become more ferocious, you weren’t that cold because of the wet suit you had on. As you looked up into the sky, you could see that the gray clouds were starting to become heavier and you wondered if it would rain. You kind of hoped it would, just because swimming in the rain was one of your favorite activities.

Stepping off of the towel you had laid out in the sand, you see the lifeguard get down from her tower and trade places with the next one; a boy it seemed. You didn’t pay him much attention though since you were too excited to get into the water and paddle out a little ways before coming back in. Instead of swimming in a pool, you preferred the ocean and the openness of it, particularly on a quiet day like this one.

With the thought of the cold water surrounding you, you gleefully run towards the waves. Your feet hit the harder sand and then the water hits your feet, giving you a taste of just how cold it was. As you plunge forward and dive in, there’s a thought that runs through your head about how it seemed surprisingly colder than it usually was, even on a day with such crappy weather. But you didn’t really have time to ponder it further now that you were in the water.

The cold water hit your face, sending chills through you, but it was also very refreshing. You push your arms out, propelling yourself forward and then up towards the surface. A piece of seaweed tickles your foot right before you break the surface. You splutter the water out of your mouth and then wipe your eyes, but right when you open your eyes, you see another wave about to crash down on top of you. You barely have time to close your eyes and take in a breath before it slams over you, disorienting you slightly. Maybe you shouldn’t have gone for a swim after all. These waves were much harsher than typical and you were starting to feel panicked.

Keep reading

You’re not a bad person just because you’re tired.
You’re not a bad person if you sit outside until 4 in the morning smoking cigarette after cigarette waiting for something you’re unsure of.
You’re not a bad person just because you snorted a line at a party to kill the sadness thats been crippling inside you like a dark black hole.
You’re not a bad person if you feel like you’re drowning when you’re sitting on the solid ground quietly questioning everything you’ve ever done to fill yourself with something other than thunder storms.
You’re not a bad person just because you fucked that boy who you knew didn’t care about you, but hoped would stop your heart from bleeding.
You’re not a bad person for that time you sat in your room and downed a bottle of vodka- letting the ceiling drip into the floor as your vision became hazy and your knees weak.
You’re not a bad person for the times you took too much adderall and your hands shook uncontrollably as you wondered if anyone would make you shake from love, and not just lust.
You’re not a bad person just because you’re lonely.
And you’re not a bad fucking person just because you’re sad.
—  I wish someone would’ve made me feel less like monster, and more like a human (can—not)

Well, @mamamarvel, *coughs* - it is about the Commandos.  Only, um, it’s not goofy.  Actually, it’s pretty damn depressing, and sort of calls to mind my first fic in this fandom, except weirdly more political.  So much for being a “cheering” sort of fic… . Oops?

* * *

“How did you get to this little corner of paradise, huh, Jackie?” James Montgomery Falsworth asked, huddled in a pile with the rest of their cellmates.  The temperature had dropped days before, and their concrete slice of paradise had frost along the walls.

Jacques snorted and wiped his red nose along Dugan’s sleeve.  Dum Dum growled, but he was still nursing a split lip from Dernier’s defense of France days ago, and knew better than to complain.  Besides, Jacques only had a common cold, and not whatever had gotten into Barnes’s lungs and didn’t want to let go.

As though Jacques had called him, le sergent coughed wetly and gasped for air.  He’d been sick before they’d arrived, Jimmy said, had cracked a rib or four tumbling into a fight that yellow and black troops had been sent to – to win.  Hadn’t breathed right since, though when the others tried to help, Barnes only smiled and said he kept on wheezing so it would feel like home.

Jacques thought New York must be a very unpleasant place, if that were true.

“Yeah, Frenchie,” the sergeant seconded, once he caught his breath.  “Tell us about how you conquered Paris, and all the dames you left behind.”

Jacques hummed, thinking of how to begin.  Falsworth might be le brigadier, the highest ranking officer in their motley camp, but it was Barnes whom they all obeyed.  Something in his pale eyes spoke of survival, of a sniper’s willing patience to beat the odds.  Monty knew power and Dugan knew spectacle, Morita and Gabriel knew how to endure, and Jacques himself knew how to resist.  None of them knew how to wait, and watch—and win.

“I was born by the sea,” Jacques began, because they needed a story that would last.  Two nights before, Dum Dum had talked until his voice gave out, painting lion tamers and tightrope walkers in such vivid colors that no one thought of the ache in their empty guts.

“Of course you were,” Gabriel muttered, in a language Jacques sorely missed.  Out of the six of them in that cell, only Gabriel Jones had been born than a few miles from the sea.  Jacques wondered if it made a difference, if perhaps being born on solid ground would keep Sergeant from drowning in his own lungs.

“In my mémé’s cottage, outside of Marseille.  My father worked for – well, some very important men, and my mother thought it would be better if she stayed with her mother for a few weeks.”

Sergeant raised one eyebrow, exchanged a speaking look with Dugan.  Both men knew enough about cities to hear the things Jacques wasn’t saying.  Dugan had convinced coppers to look the other way, to take the money and leave the rest alone.  James Barnes had worked on the docks, and Marseille was a port like any other in the world, filled with hidden fees and shipments that the inspectors never saw.  Jacques’s father had made a decent living for them, before the war had killed him.

“We used the cottage as a base, after the Germans came,” he went on, because none of their stories truly began before the war.  “It was tucked away, up in the cliffs and out of sight.  You could hear the sea birds crying over their catch, the waves crashing into the rocks.”

“Sounds romantic,” Morita said, dragging out the second word with a lecherous grin Jacques could see even in the dark.  “There’s a broad, I bet.  A really classy one,” he added, smirking, “with enormous … guns.”

Sergeant laughed so hard he choked, and had to roll away from their huddle to hack up part of his lungs.  “Keep talking like that, Fresno,” he coughed out, his voice high and thin, “and the only enormous gun you’ll see will belong to Tommy.”

Since he was curled half on top of Morita, the circus man’s shout of laughter nearly deafened Jacques in one ear.

“There was a woman,” Jacques admitted, because this was part of their evening tradition.  Two weeks ago they’d still had Smithson, and he swore stories about Maud in her nurse’s uniform kept him warm at night.  They didn’t keep him out of Zola’s lab, though, and now the stories of Maud were all the others had left, passed around like a talisman, a headstone for the dead.

“Well?” Falsworth demanded, when Jacques paused for too long.  “You’re French, aren’t you, Jack?  Seduce us!”

“Please don’t,” Gabriel countermanded, wrinkling his nose.  “Don’t get me wrong, Dernier, I like you fine.  You just –” Jones coughed, but kept his face perfectly solemn. “- don’t offer the guns I prefer.  But Fresno might like it.”

Morita shrieked and unearthed himself from Dugan’s mass to leap at Gabriel, and Jacques couldn’t help but chuckle as the two fought.  After Marseille fell—after his papa died from grief, his city raped by Nazis and made their whore—Jacques had thought he’d never be happy again.  It hadn’t been true; and it wasn’t true now, though he’d passed a long summer in Italy before les commandos had arrived.

“She was beautiful,” Jacques continued, once Jones had surrendered and they’d all curled back into a pile of growling stomachs and meager heat.  “Tall, with dark hair that fell to her waist.  She would braid it, wind it about her head, like a crown.”

“What was her name?” Morita demanded, because they had Maud, and Laura, and Victoria, and Lucille, and Maggie, and none of them knew what tomorrow would bring.

“’Mila,” Jacques whispered, and could feel the weight of Gabriel’s frown at the odd name.  “Djamila,” he confessed, and three pairs of eyes widened and stared.

“What?” Jim wondered, pulling his cap farther down over his numb ears.  “What’s got your panties in a twist, Sarge?”

“You didn’t serve in Africa, huh, Fresno?” Sergeant replied, a nearly soundless huff of breath.  “Some of the most gorgeous dames in the world.”

“You mean she was –”

“Her father was a captain,” Jacques explained, when Jim seemed unlikely to finish his sentence.  “She wanted to go shopping in a proper French city, so he brought her along.  Someone had directed her to my father, and she was at our house when the Nazis came.”

“She wasn’t shopping for shoes, was she?” Monty said, his voice low.  Startled, Jacques froze and said nothing at all.  Monty huffed, and shook his head.  “I’m not a lieutenant just because I’m dashing in the suit,” he declared.  “I’ve served in Durban.  I have seen young women with saris and smiles charm their way past half the British army, men foolish enough to think these women do not hear about Gandhi’s fierce speeches, or want such freedoms for themselves.  I know what becomes of empire, whether Hitler’s or our own.”

Barnes looked ready to reply, warming to the fight Jacques could see coming (the war had taught him about explosions, after all), but Gabriel interjected before he could.  “Shh,” he hushed the lieutenant, a finger to his lips.  “Jacques was telling us about Djamila.”

So Jacques did.  He talked about the way her hair felt wrapped around his hands, the way she spoke French with an accent so thick it had taken him a month to learn, the Arabic she tried to teach him, the words she whispered in bed.  He talked about fire, in the bombs she taught him to make, in the way that she burned with passion: for him, for democracy, for her cause.  He rubbed at his dry eyes, closed them to better recall the tan lines at her wrists and collarbones, how she would bake almost as dark as Gabriel in the sun.  And the others listened, soaking up Jacques’s story, wrapping Djamila around their necks with their dog tags, with Smithson’s Maud and Jones’s Laura, Falsworth’s Victoria, Morita’s Maggie and Dugan’s Lucille.

When the story ended, Jacques felt weightless, like a sea bird tossed high on a gust of air.  The doctor could come for him tomorrow, he thought as he tumbled into sleep, and it would be all right.  It didn’t matter if Zola took him now, not when the others had enough of him to keep.

But Jacques should have known better, after so much war.  Zola looked right past him—Jacques was too short, too thin despite that they were all skin and bones.  Zola looked right past him, and took Barnes instead.

“He never said,” Jacques fretted, knowing that his worry would do no good, the way Dugan’s attempt to stop the soldiers had only left him stunned on the cell floor.  “He never told us her name.”

“Maybe it means he’s not gone,” Gabriel suggested, the false optimism in his voice fading as they were herded out of the cell and into line.  “Maybe –”  But he fell silent as the soldiers marched down the line.  The soldiers didn’t allow for talking, outside the cramped space of their cells, and the prison didn’t allow for hope.  James Barnes might not yet be dead, but he was already gone.

Drown on solid ground

Okay, so. Apparently.
-It’s a strong lyrics song
-Lauren will start it off
-It has amazing vocals
-The girls co-wrote it
-It’s possible to jam to it
-It has a deep meaning
-It won’t be like Miss Movin’ On or Leave My Heart Out Of This
-It’s not a dance song
-Its message can relate to different things
-It’s like an anthem
-All the girls have solos and they’re well distributed
-The breakdown happens in the chorus
-It has a stunning beat
-It’s 3:34 long

Some lyrics:
“I refuse to be drown on solid ground”
“I’m broken but alive”
“I gotta finish what i started”

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I’m done guys, i feel like i can’t wait any longer; What an agony. I mean, can y'all feel me? Sounds like it’s gonna SLAY.