our little song

I didn’t really know much about the group Amarante but as I began to listen to their new track Into The Dark and I kind of fell in love with it, then I discovered something which made me love it more. Amarante is a band which features my favourite youtubers Cryaotic (never knew he could sing!) and this type of music is always something I love. It feels like it belongs in a fantasy film based in a whole new world and I just cannot get enough of it. The groups new album Enchanting The Siren is out now - Jakk

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Think about it, if it was a typical album cycle, we would have gotten the lead single, a livestream, the art cover, the commercial singles, the interviews(good and bad), the songs’s names, we would be guessing which would be our favourite, we would have finally gotten the album with our fav bop of the year, the song that bore us to death until someone points out how awesome and mindblowing it is and it becomes our little jewel, the song that makes us feel like we are epic as fuck, the song that makes us stronger when we are down, the song that resonates with our struggles and the song that makes us want to dance around our room while making us forget about everything else in the process. We would have gotten songs that would push us further into life with confidence and strength even in these hard times…

But instead we got idiotic rumors about her and Drake, people crucifying her for not publicly endorsing a candidate and in turn, once again criticizing her brand of feminism, the “taylor is a snake” meme writhing it’s way everywhere, people pinning her against Rihanna, TMZ being complete shitheads by leaking her private sexual assault photos, rumors about her music that are completely ridiculous, people actually believing these rumours and hating on her in accordance to them and people somehow even blaming her for Trump winning.

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vaultfox  asked:

Congrats on the follower milestone!!! Could I maybe, sort of, kind of have a drabble for rebelcaptain; “Shut up, it’s fine, just chill, we’re fine, I’m fine, everything is cool, everything is good! We’re chill, nothing is happening and I am not freaking out, not at all, we’re FINE.” I'm vaultfox on AO3 as well :D

Ahhh I’m so glad you chose this prompt, honestly. Sorry for the wait over the weekend, but hopefully you enjoy! I am so thankful I met you through this blog :))

I lowkey consider this in the same universe as Our Little Song, but you don’t need to read that to understand!

Thank you for 2.5k followers! Send in a prompt so I can say thank you :)


“Alright,” Jyn finished pulling on her boots and stood from the bed, smiling at Cassian. “I’ll just be a few hours. I assure you that you will be fine.” She gave him a stern look. “But, if you two are not both in perfect working order when I return, I will have words for you.”

Cassian gulped. “Yes, ma’am.”

Walking to the foot of the bed, Jyn kneeled down, eye level with the crib there and the child that rested inside. She smiled, the soft gesture Cassian had only seen her wear since their daughter was born, and ran her fingers over the baby’s soft tufts of dark hair.

“Careful,” Cassian warned, “You’ll wake her.”

Jyn smirked at him. “But then it would be your job to get her back to sleep.”

Cassian raised an eyebrow at her. “Exactly.”

She laughed and pulled her pack over her shoulder as she straightened. “The great Cassian Andor, defeated by his one month old daughter. Wait until I tell Leia,” Jyn teased.

“Weren’t you leaving?” Cassian reminded her, his lips pursed into a thin line.

“I’m going; I’m going.” She leaned down to give him a quick kiss before adding, “You’ll be fine, Cassian. I believe in you.”

Watching her walk away, Cassian wished he could believe that too.

Cassian’s original goal while Jyn traveled to the local village was to stay quiet. After all, Lyra had only just fallen asleep minutes before Jyn left; perhaps, if nothing disturbed her, she would continue to sleep, warm and snug in her blankets, until Jyn returned.

But when had Cassian ever been lucky?

Ten minutes after Jyn left, a loud wail startled Cassian upright on the couch where he attempted to doze. So much for hoping Lyra would sleep the afternoon away.

Cassian crept into the bedroom and knelt beside the crib. His daughter continued to cry as Cassian ran a finger over her scrunched-up face. Her tiny hands curled into tight balls as her father attempted to shush her. Careful with her tiny, delicate body – Cassian often felt he had handled bombs less fragile than her during the war – he brought her to his shoulder, his hand cradling her head.

“Lyra, mi amor, I’m right here,” he cooed into her ear, gently rocking back and forth.

And yet the screams continued.

Cassian continued down his mental checklist of baby care: he rocked her, fed her, changed her; nothing quieted her distress. As the minutes ticked by, Cassian glanced more and more often towards the door, hoping, praying for Jyn to walk through the doors. What if something happened to Jyn; what if something was horribly wrong if Lyra; what if…

“Shut up, it’s fine, just chill, we’re fine,” Cassian muttered to himself, still swaying Lyra back and forth in his arms, “I’m fine, everything is cool, everything is good! We’re chill, nothing is happening and I am not freaking out, not at all, we’re FINE.”

Like Cassian had muttered magic words, Lyra stopped crying. She leaned back to gaze at her father’s face, cheeks still a bright red, eyes glistening with tears, but miraculously silent. She hiccupped once, twice, and opened her mouth again – Cassian braced himself for the screaming to start again –but she only gave a deep exhale and settled into Cassian’s chest, nuzzling her face along his collarbone.

Cassian struggled to keep the confusion off his face as her breathing evened out. He had no logical explanation for what had calmed his daughter, but, Cassian reasoned, half of parenting is simply pure luck.


My dear friend Caitlin was in a bad accident last week and messed up most of her body and sadly lost her foot. Her Mommy went on a magical journey to go get Caitlin her ukulele one of her most prized possessions. This is just a few seconds since the ukulele re met our little song bird’s hands and she started singing! With a metal bar in her arm and just going though a world of pain. This. This is what life is about. Finding so much love and beautiful after life knocks you down hard. This girl is a fighter. This girl is so punk rock. She’s owning the starts of her new life but please send so much love for this girl to heal and get better! Song is a cover of “Disarm you” by Kaskade. Also there is no planing this was fully random that’s why the first part is cut off. And how cute is it that the heart rate monitor keeps going off because the passion is making her heart race!! #ukulele #ukulelecover #amputee #disarmyou #kaskade @kaskade #hospital #startingover #disarmyoucover #flipper #singing #cover #findinglight #somgbird #heartrate survivor (at Dartmouth–Hitchcock Medical Center)

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batman headcanon: bruce is not allowed to see the hit musical annie anymore bc everytime he finishes it he immediately goes out and adopts like 50+ more children

        ❝ INIGO, YOU ARE back! I was wondering when you and the others would return,❞ Elvóthien’s soprano voice is HIGH and BRIGHT, her jade eyes seemingly gleaming in mirth. The mercenary had gone out with The Resistance on some sort of scouting mission of sorts; she hadn’t overheard the COMPLETE details, just bits and pieces. Each and every time the group would go out, she’d worry ENDLESSLY about all of their safety though often she found herself worrying more for Inigo.

        ❝ How did the trip fare? Tell me everything!


anonymous asked:

Don't you know I'm a villain? Every night I'm out killin, sending people running like children. I know why you're mad at me, I got demon eyes, and they're lookin right through your anatomy, into your deepest fears, baby I'm not from here, I'm from the nightosphere, and to me you're clear, transparent. You got a thing for me, kid. It's apparent

Shotty snorted, shaking his head. “You sing well, Anon. But I don’t. I enjoyed our little song but I think I’m done here.”


idol genius byun baekhyun (’ ㅅ ’)

The very first second I met you, it all seemed so insignificant.
Just me making conversation with a stranger.
Now, I envy the innocence I had.
I didn’t even think about it in the past.
How that conversation would be the beginning of something so unexpected.
I remember every aspect of our little talks.
The songs we sang, the laughs, the cries, the glares, the unsure glances.
—  things I’ll never say to you #2
Little Amythest #1

When I was about ten years old, our choir teacher brought in a camcorder and a television set during class (the kind set high in a metal frame, with squeaky wheels) so that she could teach us about self-monitoring by filming us singing our little set of songs. Also to show us where we went wrong, I guess.

We were all sitting on the carpet while she set it up. For a while the camera was on and connected to the television, but wasn’t recording, and we could see ourselves on the tv. All the kids were delighted to be on screen and were waving and giggling about how they and their friends looked. It took me a long time to find myself (because I can’t recognize faces, even mine) so I had to look at what shirt I was wearing and find myself on screen that way.

When I found myself, I just stared for a second, because until that moment I didn’t know that I “looked disabled”. There is this thing some disabled people do- I think especially developmentally disabled people?- that is colloquially known as “gape face”. It seems to be the natural resting state of my face.

There’s also something that I see disabled people do, especially other autistic people, where they hold their hands up close to their stomach or chest, with the wrists slack so their hands just chill there. I’ve always done it. I think of it as “Tyrannosaurus Rex arms” (I do it to this day because it’s comfortable and makes me feel like an adorable dinosaur.)

But until this point, I didn’t know what I looked like when I was totally relaxed and not self-monitoring. When I spotted myself, sitting cross-legged with my poor posture, my arms held tight by my sides while my hands hung in front of my stomach, and my atypical happy face (which was cute, looking back), I was surprised and upset.

And it’s sad that I couldn’t see how cute and happy I was- all I saw was an even bigger target for cruelty on my face, and the “necessity” of making sure no one ever saw me like that again.

Once I processed what I was looking at, I quickly adjusted myself. Sitting up, hands in lap, mouth closed and unsmiling, looking straight ahead rather than out of the bottom of my eyes with my head tilted back. I couldn’t let my guard drop, lest people know. I started using my OCD compulsions as a reminder to self-monitor. And I kept that up (to my great detriment) for the next ten years.