you know i'm not one for praying


“You pray,” the man said, and barked a laugh. He glanced at Cassian. “He’s praying for the door to open.”

“Pray I get a chance to work,” Cassian murmured, but both men seemed to ignore him. 

Chirrut stopped his chant abruptly. “It bothers him,” he said, “because he knows it is possible.”

Chirrut’s partner laughed again. The sound was brief and ugly, but Chirrut only shrugged and told Cassian, “Baze Malbus was once the most devoted Guardian of us all.”

Baze Malbus. Cassian ran the name through his mental database and came up empty. “Now he’s just your guardian?” he asked.

Neither man took the bait. 

From the Rogue One: A Star Wars Story novelization by Alexander Freed

When you’re given a 10 dollar bill, there’s only one thing to do with it. Put a flower crown on Alexander Hamilton and pray that heaven or hell let’s you in for what you’ve done.

Tfw you love your GF but hate the awful sweater she’s forced upon you. They love each other, I swear. 

Eking in an adorable piece of modern au art I commissioned from the fabulous @nippaaah of Curly and the birb being…well, themselves. 


Happy Birthday Kim Taehyung ♥ ♥ ♥

To Bangtan Sonyeondan’s precious V, the one who brought me in and welcomed me into the BTS family & fandom with open arms. Thank you for making thousands of us happy just with the appearance of your smile, for working so incredibly hard, and for being you through and through despite how cruel the world and people can be. You’re truly an inspiration and I hope and pray to the stars that you know and believe this. Thank you Kim Taehyung, for everything. May this birthday be one to remember even after years to come.

I needed to talk about this

so a lot of you might know me from this post here and this post is gonna touch on one of the points I made there

as a lot of you probably know by now, youngjae was hospitalized before the busan fansign and it has been announced that he is not participating in their stage; it was also said that depending on his situation, he might not perform at upcoming schedules as well.

some people believe that youngjae has a herniated disc like jaebum and that he’s been dealing with it for a while and if that doesn’t break your heart I don’t know what will

as a youngjae stan, I am heartbroken right now.

youngjae has always performed, despite being sick or tired; there’s video of him almost passing out from exhaustion during just right, a video of him getting hit by a firework at a fansign in the Philippines, and had reportedly vomited right before performing in China.

and you know what? he did all of these performances with a smile on his face

even after he was hospitalized, he came back to the fansign and reassured the fans that he was fine, and he smiled and played with the fans the entire time

the only time youngjae has ever sat out of a performance was during Fly in Dallas when he was hospitalized in Dallas because he got really sick

but you know what really pained me? he was so apologetic that he didn’t perform; he repeatedly said, “I should’ve performed, I could’ve done it”

this boy, despite being sick and in pain, wanted to perform to make all of us happy, because to him, we are more important than his health

so please, everyone, please give your support and prayers to youngjae right now; he’s probably beating himself up for not being able to promote, especially since he’s the main vocal and this is a very important time for got7

please, as an ahgase, please pray that he’s okay and that he will get better and that got7 will be able to take a break soon so they can all rest; they all need a break, and I think that youngjae’s health right now proves that 

Okay but am I the only one who feels like Skam is building up a w/w storyline for Vilde? And am I the only one who is high key excited and praying that it’s going to happen?

I don’t know about you but the screenshots above really look like a timeline of someone having feelings that they are in denial about and refuse to accept. And it really seems like every time Vilde does express interest in boys, it is to prove something either to herself or to others. I don’t mean to taint the beauty that is Magnus and Vilde, but we did see Chris telling Vilde that she was jealous of her cos she doesn’t get any dick, and Vilde walking away with something to prove, declaring that she gets lots of dick.

But who knows maybe Skam won’t go there, but it would be such a shame to not take up an opportunity like this. I would die to see Skam portray what it is really like for girls dealing with internalised homophobia and coming out. What it’s like to like girls in a ‘dick centric’ society that builds it into our heads that women need men and the affection of boys to be considered truly feminine and beautiful (which is bullshit on it’s own) I honestly don’t know if i’m making any sense but I just feel like there are many issues in the w/w part of the LGBTQI community that I feel like has never been addressed before, But Skam would do it flawlessly. 

Helpless Part 1: In The Eye Of A Reckoning - A Nessian Fic

Follows on from Hurricane but you definitely don’t need to have read that one in order to read this. Thank you, thank you to my darling @widowshulk for betaing and my dear @illyrian-baby for cheerleading me allll the way through this.

I’ve been working on this piece for a long time now (it was actually prompted but I think that poor person has since died of boredom waiting for me) so I’m a bit nervous about it all things considered. 

Title: Helpless Part 1: In The Eye Of A Reckoning

Summary: Set post ACOMAF. Cassian and Nesta first time scenario. The two work out the secrets that have been poisoning their souls for some time now and surrender themselves entirely to one another. 

TeaserHe’s…Different. Unlike anyone else she’s ever met. Hard and soft all at once; a gentle warrior; a compassionate killer; a kind battle commander; a good man.

And somehow; some faint but insistent feeling deep in her gut whispers that he’s hers. Her counter and balance. Her match, able to handle her without ever conquering her. Her equal – one who can and will always give as good as he gets. Her destruction or her salvation, the one who has the potential to be either or somehow both at once. When most of the men around her had struggled her entire life to be anything to her at all… This man; Cassian; was everything. And she had no idea how to respond to that.

Link: AO3 

Rage. Anger. Fury.

There’s a fire that burns inside her. Burns and burns and burns. In that miserable, frozen hovel they had struggled to carve out an existence in it had been her salvation. Feyre had had her stubborn defiance and the oath she had made their mother. Elain had had her gentle, unassuming hope which had been the greatest strength and light any of them had shown in that darkness.

But she had only had that bitter anger to fuel her and keep her going. Now the thing that had given her life all those years is killing her. It’s ceased fuelling her and has instead begun feeding on her. It’s devouring her a little more and a little more every day, destroying her from the inside.

Pain and guilt and grief join the torrent of anger and her soul becomes a hurricane beneath her paper thin skin. Terror flares as it rages inside her and she realises she can’t control it. Magic begins to well inside her, the sting of it now sickeningly familiar. Everything amplifies, getting bigger and stronger and louder until it numbs and deafens and blinds her to everything that isn’t her and this twisted power.

She fights it. She clenches her fists and clamps down upon it. She tries to force it to submit to her. She tries to wrestle it into submission. She tries to force it to yield to her.

 She fights. It wins.

The scream – of agony, of anguish – bursts from her as the pulse of magic erupts. Nesta crumples to her knees as her room explodes around her. It wrecks her in the process. She is left more shattered than the smashed windows and splintered furniture. The destroyer of the destroyed. The powerful powerless. The unbreakable broken. The Made unmade. The invincible immortal ruined by her own hands.


Cassian yawns expansively, giving his wings a habitual shake to try and rouse him. The still tattered edges sting at the sudden, jolting motion and he grits his teeth, biting back the hiss of pain. They were better than they had been. In that regard he hadn’t lied to his brothers but…Rhys and Azriel knew anyway. They knew that he pretended to be better than he was. They knew some small part of him still feared, even after all these centuries, not being important, not being useful, not being needed.

So he insisted he was all right, ready to return to his duties, to prepare them for war. And his brothers accepted this, even when they knew he lied. Azriel’s eyes he felt on him in particular. Watching, his brother was always watching, watching everything. But when his hazel eyes watched him they were riddled with pain and guilt.

At night he’s felt his brother’s quiet, anguished presence there with him. When he wakes sweating and screaming, his wings ripped from his back again, he feels Azriel’s guilt there too. That only made him more determined to keep going, to be fine though he was far from it.

Weeks ago he had told Nesta he would have given up those wings a hundred times over to save his brother’s life. That hadn’t changed. It never would. Nesta had believed him; had understood that sacrifice. Azriel never would.

His brother burned with guilt for his loss – a loss he knew Az understood; pain he knew Az saw. They knew each other too well for him to truly hide anything. But for now Az knew he needed them to pretend they believed him, pretend everything was all right and so he did.

Cassian sighs heavily, rolling his shoulders to work the tension from them. That unbearable, near continual restlessness that has plagued him since Hybern builds in him once again. Ordinarily he would have flown to chase away these feelings. He would have launched himself into the sky until the cool night air swept away every issue and concern. What he wouldn’t give to lose himself once more in the wind’s tender, comforting embrace.

But…but there was no point pining after what he couldn’t have. They all had too much to concern themselves with now war was brewing to worry about what they didn’t have. The healers told him to have hope; that he may fly again. In a way that vague promise was worse than none at all.

 He wanted to know what he was dealing with. He wanted to be able to see the field before him. He could work with the soldiers he had, train them, shape them, inspire them, command them. He could deal with resources he knew he didn’t have; find ways to work himself around their lack. Things he might have frustrated him. Those he could do nothing with. They weren’t real and so couldn’t be used. But they might be and so they could not be dismissed either.

Growling darkly to himself Cassian drags a hand through his shaggy hair. Then he squares his shoulders and forces himself to continue on down the corridor. Marshalling himself he tries to go back over the points discussed at the meeting he had just left, seeking to distract himself. He has little success. 

A scream catches his attention instead, obliterating everything else around him. Chaos erupts following the shriek; as though a hurricane is tearing through part of the house. Causing his Siphons to burn like flames Cassian draws on his power. He lets it thunder through his blood, flooding his system, reading him for the fight. Then he sprints towards the source of destruction while servants hurry away. They part to let him pass, knowing better than to stand between him and whatever dares to try and harm those he loves.

As he draws nearer he realises that the source of the disturbance is Nesta’s room. His power flares more sharply in him, longing to devour any who would hurt her, his High Lord’s ward, his High Lady’s sister, his…

The snarl of fury rips from him as he bursts through her door. The action sends it flying off its already damaged hinges. As he balances himself he reaches for the sword at his back, taking up a position to both attack and defend.

He had promised to protect her. He failed her in Hybern. He had sworn a second, silent oath to himself never to do so again.

Scanning the room for any threats he keeps his practiced eyes sharp, even through his blind fury that any would dare threaten them here. However Cassian realises within a few heartbeats that they’re completely  alone in her room.

Understanding floods him the moment he finds her hunched on the floor in front of him. She's cowering – cowering – head hung, body slumped in the midst of the wreckage that surrounds him. Both the eye of the hurricane and its most devastated victim.

Despite her newly enhanced Fae form and all its accompanying strengths she seems so small huddled before him. In the mortal world, as a human, she had stood before him with the confidence, bearing and command of a queen. Now, as a Fae….That Cauldron hadn’t Made her; exactly the opposite.

Releasing his power and allowing the build up to dissipate, leaving only the usual faint rumbling behind, he steps into the room. He goes to her, steps deliberately heavy so he doesn’t startle her by approaching her from behind. Once he’s close enough to her small, hunched form he reaches out and places a gentle hand on her shoulder, trying to offer her some comfort and solace.

It’s thrown off with a violent strength a heart beat later. “Don’t touch me!” she spits viciously at him.

Her whole body trembles uncontrollably like a wild animal that’s been wounded and corned. Somehow he can sense the terror and pain rippling from her in waves, like the aftershocks of a boulder hurled into a pool far too small to contain it.

Cassian takes a step back, his hands raised in a gesture of surrender even though she’s shrunk in on herself again, back to him, and can’t see. Resigned, he decides to leave her in peace. Giving her a chance calm down should help. He'll return and see if she’ll let him help her once she’s had a chance to compose herself and doesn’t feel as ragged and raw and vulnerable.

Then he notices the trickle of blood that weeps from her shoulder in soft crimson tears. He freezes mid-step then changes his mind. Padding into the adjoining washroom he gathers together water, bandages and a bottle of ointment to tend to the gash. It needs to be bound up until her depleted strength returns enough for her to heal it herself.

Returning to the bedroom he crouches down in front of her. She refuses to acknowledge his presence but he sets down the things he’d collected from the bathing room anyway. 

“You’re bleeding,” he tells her in a low growl, gesturing to her torn shoulder.

His warm hazel eyes seek out the cold, battered blue-grey steel of hers. She avoids him still, sparing a cursory glance to her shoulder instead. Shrugging, she hunches further away from him, dismissive. “It’s fine,” she mutters back to him, a flicker of characteristic snap edging her words but no more.

“It’s not,” he says words blunt but still gentle. They soften further when he adds, “Let me take a look.”

Her eyes meet his this time. Drawn to him by the same irresistible instinct that kept him here even after she’d snarled at him to leave, wanting to make sure she was all right. Whatever she sees in his gaze, in him, seems to thaw the armour of ice that always entombs her. After a long moment she jerks her head at him, permitting him to approach and tend to her.

With careful, if callused fingers, Cassian eases the strap of her dress down her arm, baring the wound to him. Leaning in close he can feel her ragged breaths hot on his cheek for a moment. Then she turns her head away from him, staring out of the now empty window to avoid him. He probes cautiously at the long, deep rents in her skin, trying to assess the extent of the damage.

Nesta jolts round to face him with a sharp hiss when his thumb grazes over one of the raw edges accidentally. He flicks his eyes up to check on her but she’s already looked away again, as though afraid of looking at him. Or else of being truly seen by him.

“Sorry,” he growls quietly to her. 

That makes her turn to face him again. For the brief moment that their eyes meet Cassian feels something stir in him. Something that ties him to her. It’s there, if only for that single pounding heartbeat. And gone again the moment she tears her gaze from his.

Pulling himself together Cassian irritably brushes off the flash of feeling. Then he uses the ointment to clean the cuts, murmuring soft apologies to her when she grimaces in pain. Then he bandages them, trying to avoid touching her bare skin with his as much as possible. Every time he does so a spark seems to jump between like, like lightning flaring from her to him. He knows that she can feel it too, though she tries to pretend otherwise. Neither of them mentions it.

As he works Cassian fixes his gaze on her, trying to assess her condition. His hands remain gentle but a trace of steel lines his next words. “You need to learn how to control this,” he tells her flatly, keeping eye contact with her the whole time. 

He feels her body stiffen beneath his touch in response to those words. Softening slightly he caresses her arm with his hand he slides it slowly down until it meets hers. Then he takes it between his fingers and squeezes gently, trying to take some of the sting out of the admonishment. “You’re going to hurt someone,” he murmurs, trying to make his intentions clearer. “You’re going to hurt yourself. And it could be much more than a scratch next time.”


Keep reading


19th May, 1536, Anne Boleyn was executed.

“Good Christian people, I have come here to die, according to the law and thus yield myself to the will of the King, my Lord. And if ever in my life I did offend the King’s grace, then surely with my death I do now atone. I pray and beseech you all to pray for the life of the King, my sovereign Lord and yours who is one of the best princes of the Earth, who has always treated me so well. Where for I submit to death a goodwill, humbly asking for pardon from all the world. If anyone should take up my case, I ask them only to judge it kindly. Thus I take my leave of the world and of you, I heartily desire all of you to pray for me.”

Haikus (Year Five)

I stopped you before
You took your shirt off. I want
To know your heart now.

I wept on your hands.
I won’t lie, I choose the truth.
I choose you each time.

Once upon a time
Naked, drugged, I met three men
Who gave me answers.

In your arms, I prayed.
Not to be found and rescued…
But for sleeping bags.

Next time I take you
Dancing, it’ll be a date.
Just us. No mutant.

I wish you’d called me
To tell me of Emily–
Your child. Not the case.

I want to protect
You both. To love you both, but
She’s not meant to be.

You don’t know, Scully,
What it’s like to watch you die,
Then almost kill you.

Answer the question
Scully, or I’ll climb more trees
And ask you again.

Every time we spoke
I was bored, missing you, and
A little bit hard.

I’d give both my arms
To watch as you fight sexy
Nurses. Wait. I did.

Imagine, partner.
Pizza, no vampires, you and
My magic fingers.

I don’t believe her,
Yet Cassandra was taken
From Skyland, like you.

Though accidental,
Your regression hypnosis
Gave me a boner.

Once upon a time
I met a man named Arthur
And learned of our Files.

If I was blind, you’d
Be the one in my mind’s eye,
And I’d see through yours.

Your faith is blinding,
Yet you see your daughter. I
Hold you closer.

Deep undercover,
You set my finger. I’m
Safest by your side.

Believe me, you’re my
One in five billion. You, me,
Our folie a deux.

a) Between Diana
And Dana there’s an “I”, me.
My past. My present.

b) Our work now ashes,
Your head on my chest.
I can’t embrace you. We’re done.

now please pray with me for 2015 to be the year when girls and women will take over the world instead of boys and men.

until you have someone overseas

-until you’ve said goodbye to your other half
-until you’ve balled your eyes out when you hear their voice for the 1st time in months
-until you’ve waited by the phone everyday for that call
-until you’ve checked your phone 15 times a day waiting to hear from them
-until you’ve prayed, everyday, all day for the safety of another before yourself
-until you’ve loved a person who boarded a plane and left their loved ones behind to protect our nation
then don’t act like you know what I’m going through.

2 WEEKS TO MY FIRST END-OF-YEAR’S EXAM and i really want to sleep for 10 years but ( ͡~ ͜ʖ ͡°) gotta get that cheeky A1 so it’s time to start aggressively mugging!!! good luck with yalls exams lol

especially my dear other admins whose exams are in ONE Week i’m praying for you all i know you can do it!!! -L

concept: byun baekhyun. your best friend’s younger brother who’s always had a small little crush on you. constantly gives you flowers because he knows you like them. would let you cry on his shoulder during a bad breakup and makes sure to have ice cream for you ready to go. will cuddle with you if he thinks it’ll make you feel better. secretly longs for you to kiss him.

He’s your hero


You’re falling and it feels like no one cares. Every one is just frozen in awe and you just pray to land safely without any broken bones. You never asked for this. You’ve hoped over and over to not make a fool of yourself and now this happens; you feel your eyes begin to water. You close your eyes. Just as you’re resigned to the inevitable outcome, you land softer than expected. Slowly, you open your eyes to see arms wrapped securely around you. You look up and see him smiling warmly at you. He asks if you are okay. You nod shyly. He moves a bit, placing your feet near the ground. You jump off of him. He’s still sitting on the floor. You look at him with flushed cheeks and stutter out a phrase filled with gratitude, “Thanks.” He pushes himself off the ground and says, “It’s not a big deal. I just didn’t want to see you get hurt.” He gives you that famous smile of his. “I’ll see you around,” he waves as he walks off.


Let’s make one thing clear, you aren’t a weak, helpless person. You just lack strength because, well, you were never interested in working out your arms before. So you’ve lived your whole life without lifting weights or doing push-ups or any kind of arm exercises. You didn’t really see how any of that could ever restrict your life until, one day, you can’t open a jar. You struggle for quite some time while he watches, bemused, off to the sidelines eating breakfast. Your pride stops you from asking him to help you right away; you hate feeling like a helpless little girl because you weren’t one. So you try your best for a little while longer, and before he can give in and ask, you walk up to him, a frown on your face as you push the jar towards him. He laughs and pretends to struggle for a bit before popping open the lid. He says, “It’s because you loosened it that I can open it this easily.” You frown at his cheesiness and poor attempt to make you feel better…but secretly, you are happy.


He puts himself out there and you’re envious. You shy away from the spotlight and you can’t help but wonder what it would be like to actually go for what you want–to put yourself in the kind of situation where you have no control. He does that, and while you’re jealous, you also admire him, a lot. He’s one of the reasons why you want to change the way you run your life. In some ways, you feel connected to him. You don’t know him at all; you’re not in his inner circle or within his radar. You just know of him. It’s weird and awkward. Sometimes you just want to gain some courage and do the things he does. Well, maybe not literally the same things, but moving out of your comfort zone is the end goal here. He does that for you. He inspires you.


He’s always helping people and you think he’s too selfless. Sometimes you think he’s too nice. You wonder if maybe he’s getting taken advantage of; like perhaps, he’s just doing so much for people but they’ll never do anything back for him. And then you wonder if maybe you’re a bad person for thinking such negative things. You realize how rare it is for someone to be truly selfless…how he must be one of a kind (in your eyes). You think about how he’s done so much for you… how he stays up late to help you study… how he finds you when you wander late at night to an unknown city. You think about all the times he’s looked out for you and you think: have I ever done that for him? ..At the end of it all, he makes you want to be better, better than the current you and sometimes you don’t even know if that’s good or bad, but if it’ll bring you closer to his level of “goodness,” you’re content. 


He goes to the same school as you. Yet, he’s more successful. You wonder how he does it. How does he balance school and work? How can he be so hardworking yet always have time to chill and hang out with friends? You feel jealous sometimes. You think it’s not fair. Then, you see him with tired eyes but still with a smile on his face, chatting happily a few yards away, and you instantly feel bad for having negative thoughts. You start to notice him more often. You realize that somehow he makes time to do all that he does, and you want his time management skills. You want it, but you also think, he’s kind of really amazing. He’s so diligent with going to practice and then turning in homework on time the next day. You hear about him practicing choreography in the restroom during breaks and studying during lunch break. You think: this guy, with the awkward laughs and the stuttering problem in the beginning of class presentations, is like superman.


He frustrates you to no end. He has a certain appearance that he shows to everyone. You hate that. You feel like he’s lying; like when he wears insoles or colored contacts. You wish he would just be his normal self; you find him to be so much more handsome as himself.. without the blue eyes or the tall height…just his normal self. That was the him you liked best. But maybe what you were mad about the most was how sometimes you still thought he was so cute when he dressed up. Maybe you were kind of intrigued by how he wasn’t afraid to dress however he wanted…but you were. It was weird. You used the excuse of accepting yourself as who you were to excuse your reluctance to change any outward appearance. But in all honesty, you were just afraid of being judged. You weren’t as brave as he was, but he treats you as such. He always acts as if you had so much potential. That was what you liked about him..his ability to make people see the best of themselves. 


He’s tall and you’ve always felt inadequate next to him. When you first met him, it wasn’t something you noticed. His smile, the way his eyes sparkle, that innocence…those were the traits that drew you to him. His height was never the issue. That is, until you got together. It started off as an uncomfortable feeling; being next to him drew strange stares everywhere you went so you started moving farther away. He’d shoot you confused looks every time, grab your hand, and drag you back to his side. He corners you one day and asks about the distance. You feign ignorance, but his constant questioning wears you down. So you confess. You tell him about your height complex. You say it bugs you when people stare, like it’s weird or something. By the end, you’re ready to cry but he says, “Your height is perfect for you.” And you feel okay, like it’s the first time someone’s told you it was okay to be you instead of insisting that you should change.

I still don’t know how people are STILL voting for Trump???

Like… EVEN IF YOU WERE TO TAKE AN OBJECTIVELY NEUTRAL STANDPOINT, if you knew NOTHING about him, his character, what he believes, etc and like, placed him in a movie and had him interact with others, your first instinct upon watching would be “Oh man this guy is totally the villain.”

I really hope to fucking god no one lets this abrasive asshole into office.

Like if Bernie doesn’t win the primaries (and I pray to god he does), we all need to band together and vote for Hillary if Trump is the republican candidate.

(And then we need to clear out congress and get some new blood in there, please, don’t just vote for the pres and think you’re helping change how America is gonna run.)


Remember not too long ago, I made a praying talking about Dan and Phil’s armpit hair? (lol I know it’s weird but idk) Well close to the end of the video, Phil raises his arm and right where the sleeve of his shirt ends, you can see a tiny bit of hair. This makes me so happy you don’t even know. Phil Lester keeps his armpit hair. I don’t know about Dan, but man I’m so happy to know about Phil.

“Why is it that people pray a ‘hedge of protection’ around someone? I don’t know about you, but I don’t really have an overwhelming feeling of safety behind a hedge. You know what, if anyone’s going to pray for my protection, how about a stone wall with some razor wire on top, maybe a moat with some piranhas and alligators in it. Devil will take one look at that and be like, ‘Naw bitches, I’mma go mess with the guy that just has a hedge around him’. I don’t know, maybe I’m just going too in depth with the metaphor…”