They Have to be WrongAudio: http://pmcde7.tumblr.com/post/100300139659/they-have-to-be-wrong-by-paulette-mcde-music
They Have to be Wrong
By Paulette McDe
Music: Olafur Arnalds - 3055
Inspired by: Shane Koyczan’s ‘To This Day’
Do you ever take a moment and just
To hear the air flowing smoothly down your throat, feel the quickening of your heart as you exhale. Inhale. Exhale. And each breath is a moment to be proud of. A success. Because you did it. You beat them again, proved them wrong. Everyone who ever cut you down or made you hurt. Made you cry. Made you bleed. Made you hate every moment that beautiful muscle beating in your chest continued to carry on, seemingly unhearing of their cruel words. But it hears. Of course it does.
It hears and feels a thousand tiny cuts break across its walls, each insult sinking deeper, wearing down the defences and it knows it’s only a matter of time before they cut through. Before the hairline fr
EnigmaThe mathematician breathed. He wouldn’t have called a deep breath, because it wasn’t one. But he made a conscious effort to draw the air into his lungs, imagining it swirling, drifting across his bronchioles before he let it flood out, releasing it back to the world. Why? Because he was human. He was flesh and blood and bone. He wasn’t extremely strong, though his was adequately fit. He was intelligent – he had to be, for his profession. But he was still human. Just human. Why should he be cursed to carry every drifting life in this damned war? Why should one man be burdened with saving them? He was only human. But he was getting ahead of himself. The politician sitting sternly across the large, wooden desk from him hadn’t posed the question. Or, come to think of it, the subsequent threat. He was sure the two would go hand-in-hand.
“Do you know how many have died because of Enigma, Mr Turing?” He had a cold, closed-off face. He didn’t car
Merlock 2Five o’clock came slowly. John was laying on his side, watching the dots on his digital clock blink at him mockingly for four hours, waiting for his alarm to go off. It was no longer a call to wake him up, so much as a reminder that if he didn’t get ready for the day soon, he wouldn’t be ready for it when it came. Somehow, his meeting with Sherlock had convinced him he wouldn’t dream. As the dots on his digital clock read 4:58am, he wondered if he had been a dream. Because yesterday hadn’t been so terrible. He’d laughed. He’d joked. He’d forgotten, for a second. John regretted leaving his cane down by the jetty. The walk would be painful without it.
4:59am. The dots blinked at him. Coffee and tea. He’d put them in a couple of thermoses, take them down to the jetty. He wondered if Sherlock would turn up. He wondered if Sherlock existed. Maybe he was finally going mad. Though, what caused him to dream him up, he’d
MerlockJohn hissed in pain through clenched teeth as he heaved himself out of the water and onto the rough but pleasantly warm rock, his feet still hanging over the edge, the cool water lapping pleasantly around his calves. He let himself lie back on the sharp, pitted surface of the weather-worn rock, his right hand pressed to his left shoulder, as though hoping to ease some of the pain there. The physiologists said he’d regain full movement if he exercised regularly, but whenever he tried he had to stop from the screaming pain, feeling as though he was being shot all over again.
And so, John lay on a weathered rock halfway out into Poole Harbour, in extreme pain and wondering if he’d be able to make the swim back to Sandbanks, seeing as bloody Brownsea Island wasn’t exactly open to random swimmers. He slowly regained his breath and wondered why he’d stopped thinking about his actions when he got back from Afghanistan. It was a stupid idea, swimming out here, but he co
To A Stranger TRAILEROriginal Fic: http://archiveofourown.org/works/225563/chapters/341590
TEXT APPEARS, THEN FADES: ‘Passing stranger, you do not know how longingly I look upon you,
You must be he I was seeking…’
Bloom from black. Front-shot of MARK(1) sitting alone in the hospital waiting-area, facing straight ahead blankly. Clock above him ticks loudly, hollowly. Transition to his left-side portrait (2). Blink.
Shot of whole room, left incline of MARK (3). Turns head slightly to right as door opens and BENJAMIN enters
Late-Night Messages 3(On the subject of our Chemistry EEI)
Matt: I am hammering intro
the rest I need help
and the intro will need bulking (like Kyle)
but I'll do as much as I can tonight
Me: Fuck, you can help me then
That'll be a first hahahaha
Matt: Hey hey, I have helped you in meth
Me: You have! Once! : D
Matt: : D
Anyways I should get back to work. Cya tomorow, slut
Matt: dropkick hahahaha
Me: do good braining
Matt: You're not my real mum
Me: Ily bby have fun at school don't do anything I wouldn't do luv ya kidding eye h8 u ily cya
Matt: We are way too smart
Me: I agree
Matt: You have induravitque virus papillas
I need your help, woman
Me: With what?
Quickly, fag, I'm leaving internet connection soon
You have until the mint in my mouth dies a
PotterLock|Chp 6: Beyond the Veil Cold. Black. The darkness was all around, engulfing him… swallowing him. He ran, because that’s all he knew to do. He could hear it coming, rushing behind him. The slap of feet against black ice, the huff of eager breath. He ran faster, or tried to. The dark was lifting. Was he escaping? Was he getting away? His heart was all but palpitating in his chest and he stumbled over the pile of something left on the road. It was so close. It was behind him. He could feel its clawed hand reaching out, grasping at his robes. Reach out desperate fingers, closing around worn stainless steel, or aluminium, he was never sure. Open the door and spin, slamming it behind. Turn the lock. Keep out the blackness. It won’t work. It never works.
It was still there. Not the dark, no. He was at home. He was safe. But it smelled like death. He called for his mother. His voice shook. It didn’t matter. Because she was on the couch, asleep. But instead of booze, there was blood, leak
The RavenThere’s a raven that flies past every day. It lives in the tree across the road. He knows because sometimes, late at night, when he’s lying still and awake in bed, it flies to his windowsill and raps its beak against the glass, gently. It doesn’t have a nest. It just lives in the tree across the road.
There’s a gun in his drawer. He cleans it every day. He tells himself it’s just old habits, years of military service forged into his subconscious. He doesn’t tell himself that he should no longer have it. He doesn’t tell himself that the nightmares will stop eventually, either.
His therapist says they will. She asks him questions he doesn’t want to answer, but has to. He lies to her, because there’s nothing else to do. She tells him he needs to leave the house more. She says he needs to at least try to adjust to civilian life. He tells her he is trying.
He doesn’t have a job. Not anymore. His only income is his woeful army pensi
The Adventures of Marcus James Watson|PotterLockIn the name of Merlin’s rotten old socks, why was he here? What idiocy had possessed him to think this could, in any way, be a good idea? Marcus felt a light wave of dizziness wash over him, but it was a common, everyday occurrence. He ignored it and pressed a trembling hand to his aching, rushing heart. And yet, against all his better judgment, crossing all his instincts, ignoring the certainty that this is the last time you do something incredibly stupid, Marcus Watson; you’ve gone too far and you’ll pay for it with your life, he kept going. The trail would have been faint and hard to follow, even in daylight. In the middle of the night, there were plenty of roots to trip over, shadows to shift for already-weakened hearts, a carpet of leaves to mislead and sounds everywhere, which just made the skin crawl.
In the distance, he heard the howl of a wolf – natural or otherwise, he had no way of telling – and he nearly collapsed i
Musing On Illusion and RealityWhat is reality if not a set of agreed upon illusions?
Our illusion of greater control over a planet that we are not separate from but part of.
Our illusion of physical solidity that only holds relevance in terms of what we compare ourselves to.
Our illusion of having greater feeling, consciousness and complexity than other life forms that we cannot be, therefore cannot fully comprehend.
Our endless array of theories and categorizations that we use to box ourselves and others with, willfully pushing into those boxes even when there is no fit, as if fit exists within the many concepts we try to manifest into solidity.
Our illusion that agreed upon realities have somehow been static over time, rather than morphing with prevailing cultural winds.
Our illusions about what is possible. Our assumption that everything already known is all there is to know, and the myopic decisions we make as a result of that. The impossible and magical simply morphs into the scientific with a grea
The Stage, The Savior, The Melody And The Woman~~~
I hear voices vocalizing, the song of a choir is evident in the sound. The song carried itself in my ears like hot water droplets from a showerhead. So sweet and refreshing. I have hope inside my heart. I can't help but beam a smile on my countenance. Raising my hands in the air, I feel that someone is behind me. Could it be my future Love that hasn't made his appearance in my life yet or could it be the Savior who has saved me from the wretch I am? I feel someone is contributing to my energy. It must be Him. Jesus, who always looks out for me. Who gives me happiness my words cannot fathom, my mouth could not form, my hands couldn't touch, my ears could not fully comprehend how much the Son loves me.
I'm standing in the midst of a stage. Voices are heard in my ears. Two lines from a song are evident in my mind and my ears.
If our love is tragedy, why are you my remedy?
If our love's insanity, why are you my clarity?
Sometimes I feel so helpless. God, please help me not to
.owt ni tihgRI wish I could go back in time.
And no, not to see dinosaurs.
No, I do not want to go to fix my mistakes.
I just want to watch humans evolve.
Because I know that from the start we were made in order to divide. You know, like right in two. Taking two halves of the resources, split them with the sharp stone blade. Divide all you have instead of uniting.
We all have the reason, but since we’re the ones who called it reason is it truly what we say it is? Our “reason” as we call it is to survive. But not as the mass, but rather as the individual. Everything we do on a daily basis comes back to benefiting ourselves.
Don’t believe me?
The first counterpoint I created to my own theory was friendship. We are the social wonders of the world, our communication leading to such advance developments. But friends are there to give us comfort, to help us and to share with us. Honestly everything a friend is for is a benefit. When we give to them to make them a friend, we are re
The Truth Can't be Changed with Hot AirInsults, ignorance, irrelevance and comparisons will never change the truth. More then likely it will just provide temporary comfort.
Things seemed to have never changed...Looks like things don't change:
From space to space.
As technology advances.
We are still left with disasters....
From time to time.
Wars, disease, racism and others.
Seem to recycle every single day....
Nothing seems to have changed...
Rising sunAnd above Berlin's rooftops the sun is rising.
Rising like nothing happened.
What a cruel world in which we're living when not even something beautiful like the sun cares about the tears of her children?
ThoseThose blessed by the ignorance.
Those enlightened by the truth.
Those who are chosen.
Those who are disowned.
Those whose eyes see more than their minds.
Those whose minds see more than their eyes.
Those prepared to forget.
Those prepared to grasp.
Those with opportunities.
Those with no choice.
Those who have power.
Those who have knowledge.
Those who need.
Those who give.
Those who are everything.
Those who are none.
Those who are void.
Infinite lying truth.Omnipotent God, Whom can create a rock even He cannot lift? Only He,
a paradox and an oxymoron. For nirvana is everything all at once and is void and nothing all the same, Religion does not know God or even his true name. For it cannot be pronounced or even thought. The ideal is true but no thought or human explanation can explain God for He is beyond all comprehension, not even the greatest master of wisdom may attempt to even conceive it the words I say are paradoxical, true and false all at the same time, we seek Him but once there we are void and no longer, human life is given purpose by humans to continue in the lying truth, This paradox is our existence, but it is not good nor evil it is simply there and is paradox again I say. And this is infinity, and this is the end and again the paradox labyrinth of God Absolute. Namaste. ---JMS
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