voices for peace

People were thinking that Isak wasnt violent and that him having a fight with the ballon squad wasnt realistic. But he is such an angry baby lion when it comes to Even. He was ready to fight the homophobic asshole in the clip.
This is one of the reason why i love Even so much, he manages to calm Isak with his voice only. Such a peaceful personn ❤✌

Transformers Prime Theme (Lyrics)
Transformers Prime Theme (Lyrics)

he/him/his, im a guy :p

dont own anything but the lyrics i wrote

transformers prime was the first transformers show i watched all the way through, so its near and dear to my heart and the music in the show was stellar. i felt that the theme would sound nice with lyrics, so i wrote this back in april!

it was really fun to sing, and im pretty proud of how this came out in the end!

the lyrics are under the cut :0

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La morte non è niente. Sono solamente passato dall’altra parte: è come fossi nascosto nella stanza accanto. Io sono sempre io e tu sei sempre tu. Quello che eravamo prima l’uno per l’altro lo siamo ancora. Chiamami con il nome che mi hai sempre dato, che ti è familiare; parlami nello stesso modo affettuoso che hai sempre usato. Non cambiare tono di voce, non assumere un’aria solenne o triste. Continua a ridere di quello che ci faceva ridere, di quelle piccole cose che tanto ci piacevano quando eravamo insieme. Prega, sorridi, pensami! Il mio nome sia sempre la parola familiare di prima: pronuncialo senza la minima traccia d’ombra o di tristezza. La nostra vita conserva tutto il significato che ha sempre avuto: è la stessa di prima, c’è una continuità che non si spezza. Perché dovrei essere fuori dai tuoi pensieri e dalla tua mente, solo perché sono fuori dalla tua vista? Non sono lontano, sono dall’altra parte, proprio dietro l’angolo. Rassicurati, va tutto bene. Ritroverai il mio cuore, ne ritroverai la tenerezza purificata. Asciuga le tue lacrime e non piangere, se mi ami: il tuo sorriso è la mia pace.
—  La morte non è niente, Henry Scott Holland
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Comic: @mike-peace     (Link to the comic)

Voices:

Daughter & Mom - KrystalClaireVA

Dad - Me

Music:

Kevin MacLeod - Marty’s Got A Plan

Kevin MacLeod - The Complex

Kevin MacLeod - Funkorama

I do not own any of the rights to the copyrighted material used in this video, except for the use of my voice!

Remorse.

or… harry regrets breaking y/n’s heart

category: angst

I miss you.

His mouth is dry as he stares down at his phone, thumb hovering over the arrow that’ll send the text he’s longing to mail. With another deep breath, he studies the message over again, then begins to question himself. Should I write more? She deserves an apology. Maybe the word crave instead of miss. Yearn for? He deletes the text but retypes it in the same moment.

He’s never felt guilt this deeply before, he’s never so desperately wanted to turn back time and change everything– rephrase all of his words differently. Do things differently. The thought of him not being able to go back and change things hits him like a ton of bricks, sending his short nails into the palm of his hand.

A clap on his shoulder wakes him from his thoughts, and he looks up with attentive eyes. “Ready to go?” Jeff laughs, tucking his heel into the back of his shoe. “Reservations don’t hold themselves.”

“No, yeah.” he rushes, tucking the locked phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “Let’s go.”

“It’s my fucking job, y’know that, we’ve been through this a million times before. Get over it, angel.”

She scoffs in disbelief, untying the silk scarf from around her neck. “Get over it? Get over it. Over my boyfriend of nearly a year not telling anyone about our relationship—?“

“The media would go insane I- fuck I told y’this—”

“I’m not asking you to tell the world, Harry! Maybe your mom, your sister? My family? I’ve been lying to them for way too long, keeping an enormous part of my life away from them how’s that supposed to make me feel? Do you know how distressing it is to be introduced as a friend to you? To not tell anyone, not even my best friend how much you mean to me?”

“Y’do know it’s like that for me as well? A relationship is consists of two people—”

“Not that I’d know.”

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Between Worlds
Anto reads Alan Watts
Between Worlds

If you awaken from this illusion and you understand that black implies white, self implies other, life implies death (or shall I say death implies life?), you can feel yourself – not as a stranger in the world, not as something here unprobational, not as something that has arrived here by fluke - but you can begin to feel your own existence as absolutely fundamental.

I am not trying to sell you on this idea in the sense of converting you to it, I want you to play with it. I want you to think of its possibilities, I am not trying to prove it. I am just putting it forward as a possibility of life to think about. So then, let’s suppose that you were able every night to dream any dream you wanted to dream, and that you could for example have the power within one night to dream 75 years of time, or any length of time you wanted to have.

And you would, naturally, as you began on this adventure of dreams, you would fulfill all your wishes. You would have every kind of pleasure during your sleep. And after several nights of 75 years of total pleasure each you would say “Well that was pretty great”. But now let’s have a surprise, let’s have a dream which isn’t under control, where something is gonna happen to me that I don’t know what it’s gonna be.

And you would dig that and would come out of that and you would say “Wow that was a close shave, wasn’t it?”. Then you would get more and more adventurous and you would make further- and further-out gambles what you would dream. And finally, you would dream where you are now. You would dream the dream of living the life that you are actually living today.

That would be within the infinite multiplicity of choices you would have. Of playing that you weren’t god, because the whole nature of the godhead, according to this idea, is to play that he is not. So in this idea then, everybody is fundamentally the ultimate reality, not god in a politically kingly sense, but god in the sense of being the self, the deep-down basic whatever there is. And you are all that, only you are pretending you are not.

MYCROFT: I warned you explicitly: no-one was to talk to her alone.

MYCROFT: Eurus doesn’t just talk to people. She … reprograms them. Anyone who spends time with her is automatically compromised.

MYCROFT: She won’t talk. She won’t communicate with anyone in any way. She has passed beyond our view. There are no words that can reach her now.

At the end of TFP, Mycroft seems to be suggesting that Eurus has somehow—shock? trauma?—lost her relationship to language.  According to him, not only won’t she speak, but she cannot even understand what is spoken to her. 

On my first viewing, this bugged me, because it reduces Eurus to an entirely passive, almost animalistic figure.  It seems like the narrative, having gotten what it needed out of her, is now simply disposing of her.  She will go back to her madhouse and never be heard from again.  In her speechlessness, it will be easy to forget that she ever existed.

But the more I watch TFP, the more I doubt whether we are meant to take Mycroft’s statement here at face value.  All we really know is that Eurus hasn’t spoken since the events at Sherrinford.  I’ve come to think that this is a deliberate choice on Eurus’s part.  The show makes it pretty clear that she controls people by talking to them, so to me it makes sense that going mute is a kind of penance for her… or at least a reassurance that she has abandoned her powers of verbal manipulation.

Mycroft is wrong about a lot in this episode, and I personally find the idea of Eurus silencing herself by choice to be more satisfying and meaningful. I think the violin duet sequence was meant to make it clear that Eurus had *not* “passed beyond our view”, and that Mycroft was wrong about her once again.

MYCROFT: A prison within a prison. Eurus must be allowed the strict minimum of human interaction.

Eurus’s manipulative powers are so great that Mycroft deemed it unsafe to allow anyone to interact with her.  It is only thanks to her silence that she can be allowed any visitors at all.  It makes sense, then, that she voluntarily gives up her voice as a kind of peace offering, in exchange for which she is at last allowed visits with Sherlock and the rest of her family.

Princess of Themyscira: Part 2

AN: It was decided on twitter that I would publish this today. I had a lot of fun writing it! Enjoy.

Words: 1299

Part One


You watch from a distance. You watch the sparing in the middle of the ring, and the groups of women that watch it only mildly interested. You move your feet ever so slightly, and the skirt of your dress makes a slight swishing sound. You miss your jeans.

    Opening your book you ignore the chatter around you, and try to focus on the words. It’s a bit difficult to understand, you know very little greek. Only the few phrases your mother had taught you through your life. Your grandmother had insisted on a more formal education.

    In the six months since you’d come to your new home, you’d been immersed in your studies. You’d learned greek, and the amazon’s history. You hadn’t however, made any friends.

    Despite your grandmother’s protests your mother's’ sisters avoided you. If you entered a room, then they left. It stung more than a little bit. As the fighting got louder, and as a result the cheers, you gave up on your book. Leaning back against the column you gave the fight your full attention.

    Artemis was someone who liked to win. She was strong and fierce, and she reminded you of your mother in that way. She also tended to be cruel at times. She showed no mercy, and even littler patience. You avoided her to the best of your ability.

    As she once again claimed victory you slipped away. Your rooms were near your grandmothers. On most nights she would join you in them, and tell you stories of the Amazons, and of your mother. Tonight however, she was dining with some of her sisters. You had been invited, and carefully rejected the offer.

    You collapse on your bed and watch the sun set. When the darkness envelops your room, you shred your dress, and make your way to the locked trunk on the other side of the room. You remove the key from around your neck and unlock it. You carefully remove the workout clothes you had brought from home, and slip them on.

    You take a moment to look at the other things in the truck. Other clothes, pictures, and important documents. You close the lid, before you let your mind wander into the past. Dressed and ready you slip from your room and into the surrounding woods.

    Your parents had never wanted you near the fighting. They had never wanted you to follow in their footsteps. But being a Wayne, being Batman and Wonder Woman’s daughter brought a special kind of danger to your life that could never be escaped.

    Your father had taught you how to move, how to escape and how to hide. Your brother had taught you how to fight. The lessons had been hard and unforgiving, but then again, everything Damian did was that way.

He’d always had sense for these kind of things, of what the future would hold. Unlike what most people thought, Damian was actually a very caring older brother. At least he had been to you. Something to do with blood relation.

All your brothers had spoiled you though. You’d been the baby. Their sister. The one who was never supposed to go through what they had. Yet here you were, running through the jungle on an Amazon island protected my magic.

You run until your legs go weak, and your lungs burn. You go until you just want to collapse. And you do right into the sand. It’ll be pain to wash out of your hair, and an even bigger pain to run back in. But you don’t care. The feel of the sand, and the sound of the waves brings you a bit of peace you hadn’t had earlier.

“You still cling to man’s world.”

You want to curse at the sound of the voice. Any peace you had achieved flies out the window as your body goes tense. You crack open and eye to stare at Artemis. She’s dressed in the same outfit she had been fighting in earlier. There’s still blood on it.

You let out a sigh, “They smell like home.”

“This is your home now.”

You stare up at the woman for a moment, before sitting up, “Could have fooled me.”

“And what is that supposed to mean?”

“That you don’t want me here. That I come from man’s world, and I am a taint upon your precious Amazon blood.”

You see the fire rise in her eyes at the statement, “And who told you that, tell me and I will cut them down.”

You quirk an eyebrow in surprise, you had heard the statement in passing. You weren’t even sure who said it, and to be honest you didn’t care. You’d grown up being the target of every tabloid imaginable. You knew how to ignore things that weren’t true.

Standing up you brush the sand off the best you can before saying, “It doesn’t matter.”

She reaches out and grabs your shoulders, “It does matter you are our sister.”

You eye the hands on your shoulders, and you feel the first flare of anger, as you grip her wrist and twist. You pin her arm to her back, and you’re certain that you can only keep the hold for the few seconds you do, because she’s stunned. She quickly breaks it and turns to face you.

You circle each other for a minute before you both charge. What follows is a knock down, drag out fight. By the end of it you’re both lying on the sand panting. You’re bother battered and bruised, but you’re far worse off than she is. And the only thing you can think, is that you would have made Damian proud.

“You fight well young one.”

You turn your head, wincing as you do so to stare at the woman. She’s already sitting up, and she’s grinning.

You look back to the night sky, “My brother taught me how.”

“And what has happened to him.”

“I don’t know. That’s the worst part. I don’t know if my brothers are dead or alive. Or what’s happening to my friends. It’s the unknown that haunts you.”

Artemis stays quiet for a minute before saying, “I’m sorry that I can’t help you know.”

You laugh, and then groan, “I’m sorry for attacking you.”

“You have spirit little one.”

You smile at the woman, before turning back to the sky. The two of you stay there staring at the stars until the sun breaks through. You don’t talk to the woman for several days after. To be honest you kind of avoid her.

But Artemis is stubborn, and she tracks you down. You’re reading in a tree when that first arrow sores past your head, and embeds itself in the bark. You stare down at the crazy woman whose shot had drawn a fair amount of attention.

“Come little one, it is time for your lesson.”

You do your best to hide behind your book, until you feel the tree shake as she climbs up it. She sits on the branch in front of you and simply says, “You can not spend all your time in books. It would be a dishonor on your mother, and your brother who taught you.”

You continue to stare and she simply says, “You’re small, but you’re crafty. While a direct approach may not work well, a long distance one will. For that you will need a bow and arrow. May your aim be true.”

And between the seriousness of Artemis’ statement and thoughts of Oliver Queen and Roy Harper all you can do is laugh. Because you know your father is turning in his grave. And despite that you take hold of the bow and follow your sister through the now gathered crowd towards the practice field.

Never Ever - Part 2

Summary: 

“What’s your ideal type?” Eric, one of the hosts of After School Club, asked Mark.

“Y/N,” he admitted. The other GOT7 members exchanged looks, and Eric laughed – but then his smile faltered when he realized Mark was serious.

“Wait, really? Y/N? You know the stories about her, right? What, are you looking for trouble or something?”

Now it was Mark’s turn to smile. “Definitely.”

Pairing: Mark x You (Idol!Reader) 

Genre: Humor and Angst

[Mini Masterlist]

SPECIAL FEATURE ALERT: This is a reader-interactive fic, so in the box below, if you enter a name (yours or a character’s, for example), and click “submit”, it will swap out “Y/N” for that name. Y/L/N stands for “your last name.” None of the information entered is stored. This feature does not work on dashboard/feed/mobile app unfortunately.

Your name: submit What is this?


Originally posted by marktuan-oppa

Y/N’s POV

“Y/N, you’re drooling on me.”            

You jerked awake at Jia’s voice and sat up straight in your seat, wiping your mouth and smearing your lipstick in the process. Jia sighed and rummaged through her bag for a lipstick tube, then grabbed your disoriented face and applied a fresh coat for you. You weren’t even surprised that she had your exact shade ready.

“Thanks,” you grinned when she finished, and she shot you a disapproving look.

“You knew we had an important meeting today, Y/N, and yet you only came back to the dorm at three in the morning? This is getting ridiculous.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you waved away her fretting. Jia was the leader of 7/11 and more of a mom to you than your own mother. You winced at the thought and dropped your head on your crossed arms resting on the mahogany table. Why, for the love of god, did Kevin have to schedule these meetings at fucking six in the morning? What kind of hell spawn was actually fully conscious at this hour? 

On Jia’s other side sat the other two members of your group, Lucy – the maknae, and Scarlett – the lead vocalist. Scarlett’s real name was Sooyoung, but since SNSD already had a member with that name, your Sooyoung had adopted this stage name.

The two of them were engrossed in their phones, Jia was now organizing her purse, and you closed your eyes again, regretting your life choices.

The office room that you were all in was fancy, the kind of room you could imagine business negotiations taking place, and the air-conditioning was such a relief from the heat of the outside world that you were just beginning to drift off again when Kevin’s nasally voice cut through your peace.

“Right this way, boys,” you heard him say, and you groaned into your arm. Maybe later tonight you would do a cover of Ain’t Not Rest for the Wicked for your SoundCloud. Maybe tonight you would actually get some sleep like a normal human. You buried your face and tried to shut out the world – and then your eyes flew open when it hit you. His scent. American cologne and laundry detergent.

Mark Tuan.

Fuck.


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6

I see you. I see you when you shake your head and roll your eyes. I hear when you mutter “permissive parent” as you pass. I hear your children when they ask why the girl with the colored hair has a “bald face”. We don’t mind the curiosity. If you can use a peaceful voice & give us some room in our bubble we don’t mind explaining. But we do mind when you act disgusted, use hurtful words, or just generally look on disapprovingly. The pretty girl with the colored hair is almost 5. She didn’t have an easy start to life. Some of what she experienced she remembers. Some of it she doesn’t. She also spent years screaming in pain at strange moments until a doctor visit taught us that she has a condition where certain sounds in the every day cause her extreme pain. Then earlier this year her face began to change. One by one her eyelashes began to disappear. We discovered that this tiny person has Trichotillomania, a condition where a person under extreme stress and anxiety compulsively pulls their hair out. After her eye lashes disappeared her eyebrows slowly began to go as well. I was afraid the hair on her head would go next. So when she asked for pink hair, I jumped on board. Multi colored hair too? Absolutely. We can’t always control the sounds in her world. But I can give her control over her own body and her hair. So far with her pride in her colored hair she has yet to pull it out. So, polite questions are welcome in public. But rude gestures and and statements are not. They generally lead to her pulling more hair out. Dont judge this beautiful little girl by her beautiful cover. I see you. And more importantly, she sees you.

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“Nobody’s perfect I confess, but she’s perfect enough without ever dressing up”