night strength

Bts reaction to your soreness

Request: How would BTS react when you “blame” them for you soreness the day after?


“I’m sorry baby. Would you need extra help or something from the store? My shedule is tight today, but I will get you what you want? Okay?”

Originally posted by bwiseoks


“Look missy, it’s not my fault you were screaming “Daddy, go faster”. Stop calling me daddy and it won’t hurt. Still, sorry. I will buy you ice cream.”

Originally posted by imonaworldtour


“I’ll be more careful next time. When I come home I’ll cuddle you till the pain fades away. I hope. I want to. Not sure if I’ll be able.”

Originally posted by chimchams


“Oh no. We are not repeating this “daddy” thing. Look what I did to you. No. Not a way.”

Originally posted by wonhobe


“I have fifteen minutes. I can offer a massage. I’m really sorry baby, but for now that’s all I can give you.”

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin


“You are sore? Guess you are. But baby, you are not the only victim around here. Have you seen my back? I can barely move it. No shirts showing collar for a while. Still, I’m sorry if it hurts. “

Originally posted by mvssmedia


“Are you being whiny? We both know that I didn’t use one third of my strength last night. I could’ve give you a lot more “soreness”. I love you, put some oil on it and go to sleep. Let it heal.“

Originally posted by yourpinkpill


*requests are closed*

“To run with the wolf was to run in the shadows, the dark ray of life, survival and instinct. A fierceness that was both proud and lonely, a tearing, a howling, a hunger and thirst. Blessed are they who hunger and thirst. A strength that would die fighting, kicking, screaming, that wouldn’t stop until the last breath had been wrung from its body. The will to take one’s place in the world. To say ‘I am here.’ To say 'I am.”  
 ~ O.R.Melling

One day, the wise woman of the village called all the children to her house.

She sat with them in a circle, and they ate and sang together until the moon was high in the sky. The children had never been allowed to stay up as late. They were excited. Their tongues prickled with the spicy soup that the wise woman had given them.

When the fire was just a low glimmer of ash and wood anymore, the woman lifted her hand.

The children that had been laughing and chattering fell quiet.

The woman said: “Show me the palm of your hand, and tell me only the truth. Swear on it.”

“I swear,” said the children. Some whispered it, some barely got out the words, but all of them were shivering because they felt something old and large reach for their hearts. They didn’t know if it was the soup, the woman’s power, the moon, or just their own awe before the world and the night that made them speak truthfully.

The wise woman lowered her hand. She looked at one after the other. Her eyes were warm as the fire, dark as the moon’s shawl above.

“Speak what you wish to raise in your life.”

Everyone was silent for a long time.

The woman turned her head towards the first boy.

“Family,” the boy mumbled. Then, a bit louder, clutching his empty soup bowl, he looked at everyone with honey golden eyes, wide with kindness. “Mine and others.”

The old woman said nothing. Only her head moved from then on, and it pointed to the next, the next, one after the other.

And the children spoke.









While the children said their words, the old woman drank them in. She let then settle into her memory, anchored them where they were safe.

One day, when the children were of age, she would ask them again.

Some would have changed. If they had lost their path, she would remind them of their old words, of the dreams their hearts had forgotten about. That there was a way forward, in whatever direction it may run. If they had found another way for themselves, she would gift them their once-adored word still, so that they had something to always return to and would know that once feeling something did not mean that you wouldn’t ever feel something else.

And if the children still chose the same way, then it would be their time to raise something.

So the children spoke their words. Only two were left now and before the woman could turn her head, they spoke at the same time.



The other children shivered. For a long time, nothing moved. Even the fire seemed frozen in the moment. Finally, the woman tilted her head.

“What do you mean?” she asked the two. She hadn’t asked anyone else.

The first child stood up, hands curled into fists, eyes burning. “If anyone gets in my way, I’ll bring all of the world down on them!”

“I’m scared,” whispered one of the children.

The woman looked at the other child, whose eyes were calm as the dark sky above. “And you?”

“Myself,” said the child once more. “Nothing more and nothing less.”

The first child laughed. “That’s stupid. Just yourself? What can you do with that! When I’m older, the world won’t stand a chance against me.”

Before the second child could speak, the old woman stirred. She reached out for the child’s fingers and took them into her own. The other children watched, wary and confused.

“Before you raise any of your dreams,” said the old woman, a smile on her fire-warmed lips, “I want all of you to remember this.” And when the child who stood glared at her, she took its hand as well until it sat and put its head against her shoulder.

“Raise yourself, children, and you will stand against anything. Raise yourself, and the whole world will rise with you. Hell and heaven and every fear will fall if you hold yourself upright and look to the stars. And if you cannot rise anymore, stand. Stand. The horizon has been born for thousands of years, every morning and every night. Admire its strength, when you are weak, but do not forget:

You are the dawn. You are the dusk.

The world will follow. Raise all that you are, before anything else.”


what is done in love is done well

- vincent van gogh

My scars run deep, and each one holds a story upon my skin. Like words in a book, if you could read them you’d understand every step Ive taken to get here. Not one was made by my two hands, they were given to me, paid in blood and earned through tears. When others wonder why I’m so strong, they fail to realize that I’ve grown numb to pain, I’ve tasted blood for far too long, and in order for me to survive I had to learn how to survive in hell just to walk among the living as a corpse.
—  Shade

It is never easy to invest time into someone you care about and only to have no return. Perhaps you sent a heartfelt text only for to get no reply. Maybe you’ve been waiting on a call after an interview or an audition and you have yet to hear anything. It’s frustrating. It’s hard to wait and wait and hope that you’re going to see a return will you’ve given so much attention to something. But there is an answer for this, and it’s right in the Word of God.

Do not be anxious about anything, but in every situation, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus. - Philippians 4:6-7

Within the limitations of our hearts and minds, it does not make sense to have peace about things we don’t know the answer to. Isn’t “peace” the freedom of disturbance, and a state of harmony and tranquility? Shouldn’t we find peace when everything is holding together the way we want it to?

In the terms of how we humans comprehend things, yes. But what does God say about peace?

God gives us a peace that is beyond our level of understanding. He gives us a peace that isn’t contingent upon what is or isn’t happening in our lives. Even when our hearts have been broken. Even when we’re being ignored or overlooked and under appreciated. None of that stops Him from giving us peace.

So let this be your focus, and look to Him alone to bring about rest and tranquility in your heart. Let your prayer be this: “Lord, I am not at peace about [this situation in my life]. I find myself worrying about it both day and night. Give me the strength and courage to surrender my worry and anxiety-filled thoughts and return my attention to you. In Jesus’ name, Amen.”

Written by @morganhnichols for #TheDevoCo

God spent years and years and years crafting you in his image and likeness. he perfected every birthmark and every scar you would ever obtain in your life all while you were still in the womb. his intricacy with your fingerprints and the lines on your face and the stretch marks on your tummy were so that he could ultimately love you for who you actually are. not so you could be somebody else or kill yourself because you hate who you are because of your past. no. God created your past, present, and future before you were even born into life. he made you beautiful with every past sin you regret, every beautiful sunrise you witness, every intimate prayer you will say. he created you to do so much more for him and you’ve got to believe that.

Within Woman, is power to create, nurture, and transform. Blessed are our mothers, our sisters, and our daughters. Woman is Womb. The Creation gateway, the mystery of celestial realms, the motion of life force energy. Remember your womb wisdom, the breasts that flow milk and mystic sagacity. Remember the women who birthed their own fierce souls at creation’s crowning. The women who learned how to burn beneath the wild and searing Sun, who made loud love against the star consumed night, who knew that strength is not always a matter of muscle. Woman is Moon. Woman is Cycles. The seasonal rhythms of the Earth, Gaia. Connected through blood, horomone, and Spirit. This is essence. When full and weeping, Moon steps from the shade of a tumult of mountains and stands in her power knowing no fear. Acknowledge your ancestresses, feel She who is Life. We have forgotten how to dance bare-footed on the Earth, and therefore we have forgotten our true nature. We are the ground itself! Let her dance! Let her flow through you! Blessed are the Men, the Sacred Masculine, who entangle and entwine in harmonious balance with love and worship to the Divine Feminine. Together, we are a celestial cataclysm. Blessed Be, All of We.

City Witches!

+ Ground through the history of your town. Send your roots deep down into the past of those buildings and what they have seen

+ Tap into the power lines, the web of lights at night to draw strength from

+ Draw energy from the buzz of the road, send messages along the rivers of cars

+ Arrange meetings with spirits in the liminal spaces of metro and bus stops, deep metro tunnels where it is always dark

+ Lose your sadness and worry in the morning hum of peopleful streets

+ Look into the many window-eyes of your city and listen to its lessons

+ Strengthen your walls and shields with your city’s bricks, make your walls one