pthfinder-blog

[pthfinder-blog]

    “ᴸᶦᵛᶦᶰᵍ ᵃ ᶫᶦᵉ⋅⋅⋅ ᶦᵗ ᶠᵉˢᵗᵉʳˢ ᶦᶰˢᶦᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ, ᶫᶦᵏᵉ ᵖᵒᶦˢᵒᶰ⋅ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᶦᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᶦᶰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ⋅“

[pthfinder-blog]

    “ᴸᶦᵛᶦᶰᵍ ᵃ ᶫᶦᵉ⋅⋅⋅ ᶦᵗ ᶠᵉˢᵗᵉʳˢ ᶦᶰˢᶦᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ, ᶫᶦᵏᵉ ᵖᵒᶦˢᵒᶰ⋅ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᶦᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᶦᶰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ⋅“

[pthfinder-blog]

    “ᴸᶦᵛᶦᶰᵍ ᵃ ᶫᶦᵉ⋅⋅⋅ ᶦᵗ ᶠᵉˢᵗᵉʳˢ ᶦᶰˢᶦᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ, ᶫᶦᵏᵉ ᵖᵒᶦˢᵒᶰ⋅ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᶦᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᶦᶰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ⋅“

[pthfinder-blog]

    “ᴸᶦᵛᶦᶰᵍ ᵃ ᶫᶦᵉ⋅⋅⋅ ᶦᵗ ᶠᵉˢᵗᵉʳˢ ᶦᶰˢᶦᵈᵉ ʸᵒᵘ, ᶫᶦᵏᵉ ᵖᵒᶦˢᵒᶰ⋅ ʸᵒᵘ ʰᵃᵛᵉ ᵗᵒ ᶠᶦᵍʰᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ʷʰᵃᵗ'ˢ ᶦᶰ ʸᵒᵘʳ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ⋅“

[pthfinder-blog]

     Sara. 

SHE’S A PARADOX OF COLD AND HOT, JUST LIKE THEIR FATHER.  a mess of emotions hidden behind a clench of the jaw, a stiffening of the shoulders, a refusal already heavy in her mouth before scott’s even gotten a word in.  it’s not that she doesn’t TRUST him  ——–  there’s no one she wants more watching her back.  but her father had made the mistake of taking her back on habitat 7, and now?  now he’s gone.  she’s bad luck for anyone with the ryder name.  if something were to happen to scott, she couldn’t  ——-  wouldn’t   ——-  live with herself.  she knows it’s not right, being overprotective and keeping him here, and YET  ——————————–   arms come to cross over her chest, and she meets his gaze with the kind of forced hardness.  distance yourself, it’ll be easier that way.     “     you got me there  ——-  i don’t think you’re ready yet.     ”     get this over with, sara.     “     scott, it’s not just mercs out there.  what if there’s some side effect to being…  i don’t know… in a COMA?  that we don’t know about?  and then something happens and you get hurt because of that.  or worse?  what then?     ”

     In her eyes he could almost spot their father, watching him through her steely gaze, unwavering as he always had. In a way it brought him back to the days of their childhood, always receiving nothing more but a stern denial of any and all possibility of exploring the world. It was always she who got her way, she who was seen as the older, capable of holding herself in a world where they thought he’d die off- and to think he almost did.

     Though it was beyond his control, having been pulled under, clutched in the grips of a never ending sleep, forced to suffer in silence in a dream like place while she was off discovering a world so new. In a way it made him jealous, always envious of her wings and the way no one held her down. What he wouldn’t give to have the freedom to do as he pleased- as Pathfinder, she had that and so much more. 

     Jaw clenched, as if the very sound of her denial was a lash across the face. Gaze dropped in hesitation, attempts of finding his voice before he looked to her once more. “Sara, I was trained just as you were- you know I can handle a little adventure. I miss the rush of adrenaline, I want to see what it’s like out there, not through a window in my own little bubble.” Though when it came down to it, what the Pathfinder said would go. He was nothing more than a commoner complaining in terms of rank, and the thought left him more than irritated. 

     “Then I’ll die-? I don’t know Sara! It would be worth it just to get out and stretch my legs a bit, it’s driving me crazy being kept inside this place. Don’t act like you wouldn’t be asking the same thing, were I in your shoes. I can handle a few aliens here and there, if we lived through the Archon and all his super villain antics, what could be worse out there?” 

[pthfinder-blog]

Courage doesn’t always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice at the end of the day, saying, ‘I will try again tomorrow.

Mary Anne Radmacher, Simply An Inspired Life: Consciously Choosing Unbounded Happiness in Good Times & Bad (via jane-buchanan-barnes)

[pthfinder-blog]

      “You know, I think you’d make a great addition to the Tempest crew.” Maybe it was a bit bold on his part to say, what with there already being one doctor on board. Yet even Lexi could use a hand, someone who wasn’t afraid to travel, go out on the field and do whatever it would take to ensure the safety of others. 

      Then again, maybe it was just him jumping the gun and being a fool, speaking aloud with hardly any thought at all. The Nexus always needed their medics, but out exploring new worlds, he could appreciate a hand who knew how to patch up any and all sorts of wounds. “---Just a thought, of course. Not saying you have to agree with me.”  // @valkiriya liked for a starter.

[pthfinder-blog]

     She was intimidating, to say the least, from the ink on her skin to the look in her eye- he could tell she was no one to be messed with. A part of him felt almost cautious in speaking to her, as if one wrong move could leave him face down from a strong hook to the face. Many new people were emerging from cryo every day, so surely she was one of them. “I don’t believe we’ve met, Scott Ryder- Pathfinder. If you need any help getting about the Nexus, I can point you where you need to go..?” // @theconviict  like for a starter.

[pthfinder-blog]

     The statement was sudden, perhaps a bit out of the blue for them both, but time always seemed short in the days she’d come home to get supplies then go. Reason why his tone was serious, hoping she would move past the over-protective sister instincts and hear him out for what was on his mind. “I want to get off the Nexus. I know you think I’m not ready yet, but whatever Doctor Carlyle said is just him being over cautious.”

     “I’m ready to see Andromeda, Sara. I want to join your crew the next time you go.” // @pathfdr​ liked for a starter.

[pthfinder-blog]

                          Like for smth small??

[pthfinder-blog]

combat ! repost, don’t reblog !

★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ — strength ★★★★★★☆☆☆☆ — offense ★★★★★★★☆☆☆  — defense ★★★★★★★☆☆☆  — speed ★★★★☆☆☆☆☆☆ — durability ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ — accuracy ★★★★★★★★★☆  — agility ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ — stamina ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ — teamwork ★★★★★★★★★☆ — stealth  

★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ — close combat ★★★★★☆☆☆☆☆ — bladed weapons ( swords, dagger/s ) ★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆  — blunt weapons ( club/s, staff/s )   ★★★★★★★☆☆☆ — ranged weapons ( archery, gun/s ) ★★★★★★★★★☆ — superpowers / abilities ★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ — traps/setups ★☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆ — medic

any lasting injuries from combat? ) -- Mainly scars along his torso that can’t normally be seen unless in a close relationship with someone. Most of his battles remain mentally scarring however, as he suffers from ptsd.

fighting style?   ( bold any that apply. )  — commander  /  duelist  /  honorable  /  dishonorable  /  would have others do their fighting /  stealthy  /  long-ranged  / melee  /  technological  /  sorcery  /  superhuman abilities  /  has fought in a tourney  /  a lover of fighting  /  a hater of fighting  /  cowardly  /  reckless  /  strategic  /  uses underhand tricks  /  renowned for their skill /  trained  /  untrained  /  keeps skill secret  /  won a battle  /  lost a battle  /  ruthless  /  merciful

Tagged by : @nahkmor (tysm!! ily!!) Tagging  :  @quarknovae @threelimit @pathfdr @bloodled @arielshepard (anyone who wants to tbh!! )

[pthfinder-blog]

No, I’m not ok. But I haven’t been ok since I was 11, maybe 12. I am still here though. I’m still breathing. For me, sometimes, that will have to be enough.

Clementine von Radics  (via horrorempathy)

[pthfinder-blog]

      Reyes.

Reyes stretches like a long shadow in the sunset. The port town becomes softer, a bit blurred around the edges like it would after having one too many drinks. It gives him a momentary vision of the future. Somewhere that Sloane’s thugs won’t torment those who aren’t in their little club. Not today, though. The ringing shots of a gun, not close, cut through the peace. Reyes remembers himself and turns.

“It was nice while it lasted,” he says, rolling his shoulders.

      “What, silence? I don’t imagine you get much of that around here, thought you’d be use to that sort of noise.” Gunshots, screams, the sound of regular business in a port like Kadara’s. As Pathfinder, the sound of weapons was one that had become quiet common in his daily life, the need to fight to survive, make things right. What he could never get use to however, was the sight of bodies, shot down in cold blood, while no one did a thing to stop it. 

     Fingers laced together, weight leaning on the nearby counter of the bar where they often came to meet. It was a brief glimpse of his attempts at being casual, never something that would last. “I don’t know how you do it, making a living around here day in and day out. First day I stepped foot in this port I almost got my head shot off. You sleep with one eye open...?” A bad joke, but then again, he wasn’t ever really good at making them to begin with. 

[pthfinder-blog]

Tired, tired with nothing, tired with everything, tired with the world’s weight he had never chosen to bear.

F. Scott Fitzgerald (via quotemadness)

[pthfinder-blog]

“ you’re scared of that , aren’t you ? ”

       The hour was late, but during  travel in space, the concept of time and sleep never did sit normally for him. Too much to worry about, too much to think about, and with all the feelings of doubt and despair looming over him, his mind was often too cloudy to even allow him such relief. It was a heavy burden to carry alone, often suffering in silence, never wanting another to know the doubts that plagued him. 

     It was reason why he was found in the kitchen of the Tempest, half dressed, sitting on the cold counter while he ate the remains of ‘Drack’s Surprise’ soup from the bottom of a leftover bowl. Never did he really know what was in it, but it filled his belly and made him feel at home- so that was good enough for him. Caught in the act of a late night snack, attempting to cope with the sorrow with means of a warm meal. What he didn’t expect however, was company, so surely he must have looked like a fool to walk in on. 

     The Krogan’s company was always welcomed however, his low voice reminding him of a father type figure, a grandfather he never got the chance of really meeting. Eyes were lost in the bottom of his bowl as they talked, as if too afraid to meet his eyes, knowing he could see right through him and his doubts. Why else would he be hidden away, if only to bottle up his emotions, so not to trouble anyone else.

     “Scared of what, failure? Anyone would be afraid of that. There’s a lot on the line, too many lives depend on me doing things right. If i mess that up... I don’t even want to think about it, Drack. Failure isn’t an option- it can’t be.” // @nahkmor  // Protective sentence starters.

[pthfinder-blog]

                  Ray Bradbury, “There Will Come Soft Rains”

                                Bold the ones that apply to your muse.                                             REPOST don’t reblog

tagged by: @bloodled tagging: @nahkmor  @spectrepath  @renedarav  @skilledhands @spacehated @threelimit  idk anyone who hasn’t and wants to (sorry if you have and I tagged you!! )

Tick-tock, seven o'clock, time to get up, time to get up, seven o'clock!    //   The morning house lay empty.  //   It repeated the date three times for memory’s sake.  //     It was raining outside.  //    “Rain, rain, go away; rubbers, raincoats for today…”     //     At eight-thirty the eggs were shriveled and the toast was like stone.   //     The house was clean. //     The sun came out from behind the rain. //    This was the one house left standing.     //     The gentle sprinkler rain filled the garden with falling light.     //    “Who goes there? What’s the password?”    //     drawn shades in an old maidenly preoccupation //    self-protection which bordered on a mechanical paranoia.     //     an altar with ten thousand attendants, //     the gods had gone away. //     the ritual of the religion continued senselessly, uselessly.    //     angry at inconvenience.    //   only silence was here.   //  its eyes turned to fire.  //   Delicately sensing decay    //   like great butterflies    //     yellow giraffes, blue lions, pink antelopes, lilac panthers     //    The walls were glass.  // the walls lived.   //     the lazy bumble of a purring lion.    //     the murmur of a fresh jungle rain.  //    smoking, waiting. // The house was silent.     //     There will come soft rains      //     swallows circling with their shimmering sound;   //     frogs in the pools singing at night,     //    wild plum trees in tremulous white;   //     not one will know of the war.   //     if mankind perished utterly;   //     Would scarcely know that we were gone.   // the house began to die.  //    The wind blew.    //   licking, eating,   //   “Fire, fire, fire!”  // tried to save itself. //     the windows were broken   // in ten billion angry sparks//     too late. //      as even an elephant must at the sight of a dead snake.    //     clear cold venom   //     An explosion!     //     bone on bone,    // torn the skin off //   Run, run! //     Help, help!   //     a tragic nursery rhyme, //     like children dying in a forest, //     alone, alone.   //    One, two, three, four, five voices died.     //      Blue lions roared, purple giraffes bounded off.     //    maniac confusion, yet unity; //     singing, screaming, //     with sublime disregard   //    Smoke and silence. //   Among the ruins,