what demand

What do men demand of Fortune: to banish need with plenty? The more your plenty the greater your care to house, maintain and guard it. Have you no personal good within yourself that you must seek external things to give you value? Do you, a reasoning man, only appear splendid to yourself in the possession of dead objects? Man is better than other things only when he knows himself; no other animal has this ability.
—  Boethius, The Consolation of Philosophy
2

11 of 22

“He what” Lennox demanded when she stopped speaking “Juni tell me.” He took her hands guiding her to the bed.

She followed him sitting automatically beside him “it’s hard to explain” she sighed fiddling with her fingers. “There was this look he gave me. Something in his eyes that made me feel like an object to conquered instead of cherished.” Shaking her head sniffing “it’s stupid really. How could one look affect me so much? It was someone had poured a bucket of cold water over my head.”

“It depends what that look meant” he put a hand over hers “what matters is how it made you feel.”

Casting her mind back Juniper continued “it made me feel like property to be possessed. I wasn’t me anymore just a pleasure toy or something.” She turned her troubled yellow eyes to him “I felt kind of numb and a little sick. I didn’t want to go through with it anymore.” Tears rolled down her cheeks “sounds silly now maybe Blake’s right and I’m still a baby.”

“It’s not silly and you’re not a baby” he draped an arm around her “he’s the one with the problem not you.”

Nodding she leaned into him taking comfort “he called me a baby for not wanting to go all the way. It just didn’t feel right. It wasn’t the way I imagined my first time being like. Maybe I’m asking too much to want it to be special.”

so last night i was rereading house proud by astolat, aka the best harry potter fic there ever ever was, & then i started having Thoughts about hp wizards being the descendants of the fae cuz it just makes!! so much sense!!!

i am perpetually disappointed by so much of jkr’s world-building but this in particular bothers me so much cause like

she placed so much emphasis on blood lines & ~purity but the only ever used it as a shite allegory for racism

u know who gives a thousand shits about blood lines? the fae. u know who goes to great lengths to exist separately from humans? the fae. u know whose society is split into groups based on personality? the fae!!

the evolution of wizarding society makes so much more sense!! if u interpret them as being fae adapting to the changing world!!!

“Feyre.” Rhy’s eyes lingered, taking in every detail. “Are you running low on food here?" 
"What?” Tamlin demanded.
Those violet eyes had gone cold.
— 

A Court of Mist and Fury by Sarah J. Maas

Rhysand to Tamlin:

(That heartbreaking moment when Rhysand could see that Feyre was broken and starving and Tamlin was completely blind to it.)

Every year the Russian Team does a bar crawl. It’s a tradition now. They all have T-shirts that have Yakov’s face on the front (Above the word Фелстман bolded and underlined) and, on the back, a skater’s name in large bolded font below an alphabetized list of every skater Yakov’s ever had in much smaller text. They get new T-shirts every time someone new is added to the roster, so usually every year or two.

They change the T-shirts to include Yuuri, and also to change Viktor’s name to his married name. Yuuri has no idea that this is even a thing until he walks into the rink one morning to see Yuri skating around with a pile of bright purple T-shirts in his arms.

“Yo, Katsudon,” Yuri mutters when he gets to him, flipping through shirts distractedly. He’s almost a normal person this early in the morning, before the vitriol has settled into his bones for the day. “So your stupid husband didn’t tell us what size you are, but you wear his clothes all the time anyway and since you have the same last name it was just less complicated to order two of the same size. Here.” He drops them so quickly that Yuuri almost overbalances to catch them. He’s halfway across the rink by the time Yuuri straightens back up, making his way towards one of the Juniors who Yuuri thinks might be named Katya. 

“Ooh, the shirts came in,” Viktor says happily when he catches up. He takes one and holds it up to the light. The picture of Yakov on the front is…not exactly flattering. “Wow! They look even better than last year! Purple is a much better color than green.”

“What am I looking at?” Yuuri demands, staring dumbfounded at his own T-shirt.

“Yakov, of course,” Viktor says happily. He flips the shirt around. Yuuri startles at the giant, bold Кацуки-Никифоров on the back. Viktor scans the smaller text (Which is, weirdly enough, in the shape of a skating boot) and says, “Ah, here you are.” Yuuri leans over.

“Yeah, that’s…definitely my name,” Yuuri says, brows furrowing. Юрий Кацуки-Никифоров. It is, of course, right next to Виктор Кацуки-Никифоров. He’s familiar enough with the other skaters’ names to realize that the small text is Yakov’s roster. “Um, why though?” 

“I’m not sure!” Viktor says happily. “I came here after it started! I’ll go put these in our lockers. Start warming up please, Kitten!”

Viktor skates away. Yakov’s face seems to wink at him, over and over again, from where Viktor is clutching the shirts by his hip.

“After WHAT started?” Yuuri demands to the room at large. Nobody answers him.

Viktor eventually does explain what they are for, the afternoon before the bar crawl itself. He also shows Yuuri the dozen past bar crawl shirts he owns. The passage of time is indicated by the growing shirt sizes and Yakov’s hairline. Yakov had almost a full head of hair when Viktor first joined the roster.

“Does Yakov know about this?” Yuuri mutters, staring at the shirts in awe. 

“Oh, I’m sure he does,” Viktor says. “Lilia makes the shirt orders for us. It’s the only reason she’s not on the shirt too, honestly.”

Every single day, Yuuri is more and more amazed that Yakov Feltsman has not taken to the Siberian wilderness to live in seclusion and blessed silence. 

OK FOR REAL HERE NOBODY’S TALKING ABOUT THAT LAST MOMENT WITH RAVEN

LIKE SHE’S SITTING ON THE STEPS COMPLETELY ALONE PROBABLY THINKING EVERYONE LEFT HER BEHIND TO SAVE THEMSELVES IN THE BUNKER WHILE SHE’S STUCK BY HERSELF

EVEN AFTER SHE CHOSE TO LIVE SHE’S STILL STUCK WITH NO ESCAPE, NO FRIENDS TO SUPPORT HER

AND THEN SHE HEARS THE DOOR OPEN

AND ONE BY ONE

EACH PERSON LINES UP

HOW MANY ARE THERE? SEVEN? 

THIS WAS A MISSION ACCOMPLISHABLE FOR ONE TO TWO PEOPLE

BUT SEVEN?

JUST A FEW HOURS AGO SHE WAS READY TO DIE. BUT SEEING ALL THOSE PEOPLE THAT LOVE HER… LOVE HER ENOUGH TO LEAVE THE SAFETY OF THE BUNKER THAT GUARANTEED THEIR SURVIVAL AND CROSS DANGEROUS TERRITORY… JUST TO SAVE HER….

AND BLESS HER HEART SHE’S SO SHOCKED THAT ANYONE ACTUALLY LISTENED TO HER CALL FOR HELP

“what are you doing here?”

“we won’t leave you behind”

AND THAT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, WAS THE MOMENT MY HEART PHYSICALLY SWELLED WITH TEARS

CAN YOU IMAGINE THAT THO? ONE SECOND YOU’RE COMPLETELY ISOLATED AND THE NEXT EVERYONE WHO LOVES YOU COMES TO RESCUE YOU?

DO YOU EVER JUST? CRY? BECAUSE RAVEN REYES IS FINALLY FEELING THE LOVE SHE DESERVES?/????//

3

“Who are you calling a child?”

Did anyone order up some non-silly D.Va headcanon? No? Ah well, just leaving this here then.

When a girl loves a girl the touches are softer,
fingers like feathers, tracing underneath the breastbone in the midst of twilight.
When a girl loves a girl the tears are harder,
they fall like glass, clear like her eyes laced with honesty and love that smells like lavender
When a girl loves a girl the other girls tongues are sharper,
abomination falls from their lips, lips that have touched their friends in the dark, rich with intoxication
When a girl loves a girl the boys shrink into themselves,
a hurricane is cast around their heads, a rushing desire to have what they can’t, wanting to claim what is not theirs, demanding that it’s being ripped from their calloused hands.
When a girl loves a girl the world whispers, some louder than others
the indoctrinated have matches for fingers, lighting fires for our eternal souls to rot in
the preachers of peace shrug their shoulders, sometimes they chant for us, it’s never loud enough.
the planets sing for us as we dance among the stars,
When a girl loves a girl, she owns the universe.
—  “I Wanted Her, So Did the World” // Angie P
6

In which Bakugou is me

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“世選はぜったい大丈夫だよ(^^)”

Today on ‘I’m Gonna Cry over Fanart’

Zach asking you to sleep over at his house - part 3

Warnings: graphic descriptions and images of sex/sexual activities. You’ve been warned my lovelies:) Enjoy!


Your P.O.V
The morning sunlight peeked through the curtains, basking the room with its warmth. I was tightly cocooned in a strong pair of arms, my back pressed against a muscular chest. There were soft snores echoing in my ear. I turned my head slightly, to see who the culprit of this snoring was, finding the peaceful face of my sleeping boyfriend, Zach Dempsey. 

Originally posted by sensualkisses

‘That’s right… Me and Zach… We actually did it last night.’ A sense of giddiness overcomes me. I remember last night so vividly… 

Keep reading

like real people do p.2 | jungkook

summary: the feelings for your friends with benefits are changing. months pass, and you feel your gut telling you that you want more. you’re just not sure if he feels the same.

college student!reader, friends with benefits!jungkook

piece 1, piece 2, piece 3

this component is based off russ’s cherry hill

Keep reading

10

CAPTAIN CARTER AU - Captain America: The Winter Soldierrole swap (Sharon, Steve, Natasha, Bucky)

I Got You On My Mind [Part 2]

Jungkook Soulmate AU

Part One | Part Two | Next Part

Genre: Angst (ft. Fuckboy!Jungkook)

Summary: Ever since your fateful first encounter with Jungkook, it’s been radio silence in your mind. You’re trying your best to move on. But no matter how hard you try to forget him, life finds away to throw the two of you back together.

Word count: 2.2k

Originally posted by jungxook

A few weeks later, and any tension between you and Jieun was gone. Currently, she sat in front of her vanity, applying makeup in preparation for the music department’s showcase. Behind her, you stood, curling iron in hand, ready to help.

Jieun glanced back to look at you. “You can go ahead,” she said, nodding towards the tool in your hand. “I’ll just do my makeup at the same time–it’s fine.”

You nodded and got started, making quick work of Jieun’s thick, black hair. Soon, her hair fell in glistening loose waves.

“You look good,” you smiled, kneeling down to unplug the curler from her bedroom wall. “We should get going soon. You know, it would probably be faster if you got ready backstage.”

“Like hell,” Jieun snorted, standing up and smoothing out her small, black dress. “It’s a fight for mirrors. I made the mistake of going backstage in freshman year…never again.”

You laughed as you followed Jieun out of the room. As you passed through your small apartment, you grabbed your bomber jacket from where you had flung it over the couch earlier.

“That’s what you’re wearing?” Jieun asked, raising an eyebrow critically as she scanned you from head to toe. Self consciously, you squirmed under her gaze. You were wearing a pair of jeans, a graphic tee, and a bomber–it was acceptable! “Seriously?”

“What?” you demanded, zipping your jacket up. “This fine. I’m keeping it casual. I’m not the one performing, so it doesn’t matter.”

Jieun just rolled her eyes. She threw on a jacket, too, and together you exited the apartment.

Outside, the air was beginning to cool. The sun had already begun to set, the days becoming shorter and shorter as winter approached. Jieun shivered slightly, the cold nipping at her bare legs.

“See?” you taunted, a smile pulling at your lips. “Wearing pants was a good idea.”

“Oh, shut up!” Jieun exclaimed, elbowing you sharply. There was a short stretch of silence, and then Jieun spoke again. This time, her tone was serious. “Y/N, w-we really need to talk. About…you know. What are you going to do? He’s your soulmate, for god’s sake!”

“What can I do?” you asked resignedly. “He made himself clear.”

“But…you’re meant to be together,” Jieun argued quietly, her eyes full of concern as she glanced at you.

“I can’t change how he feels,” you sighed, shoving your hands into your pockets. Even thinking about Jungkook made your heart ache. “Look, I don’t want to talk about this. Tonight isn’t about me or Jungkook, okay? It’s your night.”

“I know,” Jieun smiled sadly. “I’m just worried about you. You’re my best friend, you know?”


Later, you find yourself sitting in the cushioned seats of your school’s theatre. All the seats around you were occupied–either by friends or family of the performers. A few of the junior students had performed already, but you didn’t pay much attention. After all, you were only there for Jieun.

You glanced at the program in your hands, flipping through it to pass time. As you read through the pages, you spotted Jieun’s name. The program said she’d be singing two songs, both of them ballads you had heard her sing in the shower for weeks.

The person performing after her was a boy named Kihyun, whom you had met at a few parties. You continued scanning the page, looking for names you recognized. Eventually, your gaze gravitated back to Jieun’s name. As your eyes shifted up the page, your heart stopped.

Jeon Jungkook.

Your soulmate’s name was printed neatly above Jieun’s, followed by the two songs he would be singing. Your heart began to race, remembering the last time you had heard Jungkook sing.

Before everything fell apart.

In your nervousness, you had begun tapping your leg rapidly. The woman beside you glared at you pointedly, and you forced yourself to sit still. Suddenly, the people around you began to applaud, and your attention snapped to the stage in front of you.

The boy currently on stage was removing his acoustic guitar from his lap. He stood and bowed, some people in the crowd whistling and hollering. Then, the boy turned and exited the stage, the lights dimming as the next act entered.

In the darkness of the auditorium and in the sudden silence of the audience, you heard the Jungkook’s voice for the first time in weeks. It was quiet, but you heard it nonetheless.

“Fuck,” Jungkook hissed. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

You guessed he was nervous. You couldn’t help the amused smile that appeared, but you resisted the urge to reply to his thoughts. Keeping your mind as blank as possible, you weren’t surprised at the sight in front of you when the lights flickered back on.

At the front of the stage, Jungkook stood, dressed in a simple white shirt and black pants. His bangs were pushed to the side, and the harsh lighting highlighted Jungkook’s sharp features. He looked more handsome now than ever.

You gulped–and then the music started.

Soon, Jungkook’s sweet voice was flowing throughout the theatre. As he sang, he kept his eyes shut and his eyebrows furrowed. He was singing a cover of Lost Stars, which fit his voice perfectly. As the song progressed, Jungkook switched to a falsetto, and it sent a shiver down your spine.

Closing your eyes, you allowed yourself to be carried away by Jungkook’s beautiful voice. His words surrounded you like an embrace, and you wished those loving lyrics were for you.

Needless to say, you couldn’t be blamed for being unable to focus on the rest of the performances following Jungkook’s.


Jieun clung to your arm, her breath already reeking of alcohol. Around you, a swelling mass of people moved, and deafening electronic music thudded in the background.

“Come on, Y/N,” Jieun slurred, giggling at herself. “Just have a drink with me! It won’t kill you.”

“I didn’t plan on coming to your afterparty,” you frowned, trying to discreetly lead your friend towards the front door. She noticed and stomped her foot.

“You’re so mean!” Jieun whined. “You owe me. You didn’t even pay attention to my performance! I could tell y-you were still thinking about Jungkook!”

“Shh!” you hissed, covering her mouth with your hand. “Fine! I’ll drink. Shit, Jieun. Don’t…talk about that here, okay?”

“‘Kay!” Jieun chirped triumphantly, dragging you to the kitchen with surprising strength.

Inside the kitchen, there was a crowd of very drunk people chanting, “Shots! Shots! Shots!”

Somehow, Jieun was able to produce a shot glass filled with tequila. Sighing, you grabbed it and threw it back. A few shots later, you were as sloppy as everyone else. Your friend had disappeared, leaving you with your new friends in the kitchen.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar figure appear in the entryway of the room. It was Jungkook.

“I’ll be back,” you mumbled, turning to follow your soulmate with newfound courage, no doubt from all the tequila you had just consumed.

The crowd in the living room had dispersed a little bit, allowing you to spot Jungkook quite easily. He leaning against the back of the couch surrounded by a group of his friends, an arm slung over the shoulders of another girl. He held a can of beer in his other hand.

Impulsively, you stormed towards to your soulmate, feeling the frustration and hurt you had buried so well resurface. It also irked you to see Jungkook cozying up with another girl when he knew. You staggered up to Jungkook’s group, pushing past two guys to stand directly in front of your soulmate.

“What the fuck?” one guy spat, grabbing you roughly by the shoulder. You paid him no mind, shaking him off.

“Jeon Jungkook!” you yelled, your words slurring together, as you crossed your arms. “We needta talk.

Suddenly, rough hands spun you around. The guy you had pushed earlier was glaring down at you, positively seething.

“Look at me when talk to you, bitch,” the guy seethed, and you winced as his grip on your arm tightened. Then, he was staggering backwards as if he had been pushed. And it was because he had been. Jungkook stood tall beside you, his expression stony.

“Don’t touch her,” he warned quietly, his voice threatening. Then he grabbed your hand, pulling you away from his friends and out of the living room. Behind you, Jungkook’s friends were openmouthed in surprise.

Jungkook guided to to a secluded hallway, dropping your hand immediately after he stopped walking. He turned to look at you, his expression icy.

“I thought I told you to stay away from me,” he said, his eyes guarded. Jungkook’s lips were set in a straight line, and you thought they looked much better when he was singing earlier that night.

“You did, but you were also being an asshole,” you replied, feeling a little more sober than a few moments ago. Perhaps it was the gravity of the situation. Bravely, you looked into Jungkook’s uncaring eyes. “It’s great that you feel that way. I get it, okay? But it’s not all about you, and we need to talk about this.”

“There’s nothing left to say!” Jungkook exclaimed, frustration seeping into his voice. “I’ve already explained myself to you.”

“No, you haven’t,” you snapped. “You told me to forget about what had happened. But why? You’ve explained absolutely nothing. I don’t know how you feel, let alone how I feel!”

“You want to know how I feel?” Jungkook laughed coldly. “Like I said, there’s not much to say. I don’t feel anything.”

“That’s bullshit!” you cried, feeling angry tears pool in your eyes. You blinked them away furiously. “We’ve been talking for years, Jungkook. You’re not like this…I know you’re not.”

“You know nothing,” Jungkook hissed, backing you up against the wall. He slammed his hands against the plaster, caging you in with his arms. Still, you stared at him, defiant. “Sure, it was fun to play pretend. But that wasn’t me, it won’t ever be me. I’m not going to lie and say that I’ll change for you, because I never will.”

“I’m not asking you to change,” you replied. “You’re making all these assumptions–”

“You should be asking,” Jungkook interrupted, his voice quiet. His arms dropped from around you and he stepped back. His words rang with finality. “If you knew who I really am, you’d ask.”

“Jungkook!” someone called shrilly from around the corner. The girl from before–the one who Jungkook had been sitting with–appeared, her heels clicking loudly against the hardwood floors as she approached. “I was looking for you.”

“Well, you found me,” Jungkook smirked, all traces of your conversation cast away in the blink of an eye. He slipped his arm around the girl’s waist and leaned down to whisper something in her ear.

You bit your lip, your heart stinging painfully.

“What are you looking at?” the girl spat when she saw you still standing there awkwardly.

Jungkook paid you and the girl’s protests no mind. He caught the girl’s lips with his, his tongue slipping obscenely into her mouth. The girl moaned and pressed further against Jungkook. His hands wandered deviously, one hand slipping underneath the girl’s shirt.

Your eyes blurred with tears, and you hurried away before Jungkook and the girl had the satisfaction of seeing you cry. Blindly, you stumbled towards the front door of the fraternity house–at least that was where you thought you were.

In the distance, you thought you heard someone calling your name. Still, you didn’t stop. You were eager to escape this crowded building. The heat and the constant noise were suffocating you. Finally, you reached the door, your hands searching for the knob.

Eventually, you located it. You turned the doorknob with haste, inhaling deeply as you stepped into the crisp, autumn air. You closed the door behind you and continued on aimlessly, your eyes unfocused with unshed tears.

Your footsteps echoed against the pavement, and you kept your eyes cast skyward as you tried not to cry. You weren’t sure where you were going or how long you had been walking. You just kept going, because it was easier than thinking. 

Hurt was still radiating through you, and you wondered why you were still pretending to be fine. You glanced at the ground and let a few tears fall, your vision clearing. 

But by then, it was already too late. You looked up just in time to see the bright headlights of an incoming car.

And then, everything went dark.

The last thing you heard was Jungkook’s voice, ringing loudly in your mind.

“Y/N? What’s going on? Talk to me–are you alright? Fuck! Y/N!”

- Girl in Luv

Okay…another cliffhanger. I’m sorryyyyyyyy! Also I just wanted to say this: I was absolutely shocked by the support I received from the first part of this series. I just wanted to thank everyone who took the time to respond! So, I hope you all enjoyed this second instalment. Stay tuned for part three, and tell me what you think so far! Thanks again, guys 💛

mrkltpzyxm  asked:

How do you stay engaged with liberal social media when so much of it is demanding such a very specific and unquestioning ideological purity lately? How do you not lose your mind?

I try my best not to take it personally, and remember that who I am to myself, and what I may represent to another person aren’t necessarily the same thing.

I’m a 45 year-old CIS white guy who lives life on the lowest difficulty setting with a minor celebrity cheat enabled. I understand and accept that, to a not insignificant portion of the people who tend to yell at me a lot, I’m representing their dad or their uncle or their teacher or their boss or that Out Of Touch Person In Their Life Who Treats Them Like They Don’t Matter. I’m pretty easy to yell at, because the people they should be yelling at aren’t ever going to listen to them, and I’m usually in like 98% agreement with them at least, so maybe it’s safer to yell at me. I’m sort of a soft target. I get that. I don’t take it personally.

Where I get exhausted and impatient is with people who tell me “no, THIS is what you meant,” and “you don’t get to have an opinion about this because I made it about me  and now I demand that you apologize to me for the thing I decided you did,” and things like that. 

Over the course of my life, I have learned that it’s more effective to say something like, “Hey, I am X, and when you posted Y, it made me feel Z. Is that what you meant?” 

Like this thing today, for example. I’m not a homophobic, or transphobic, at all. I get that, without context, the Putin thing I posted could be misinterpreted. I didn’t think of that, and in the future, I will. But when I saw my asks today, it’s page after page of people attacking me, making assumptions about me, and demanding apologies for something that I didn’t do. I didn’t post a picture with the intention of hurting anyone except Putin and those who support him – fuck him and fuck them. There’s an ask in my inbox right now that says my intention doesn’t matter, because that’s not what the mob decided it was, and therefore I owe the mob an apology for the conclusion they jumped do. I … I just think that’s bullshit. I’m not going to apologize for something I didn’t do, because a mob demands it. What I will do is think, in the future, I wonder if this could be misinterpreted? Maybe I should take care to ensure that my intention is clear.

This is a very difficult and terrifying time for vulnerable people, for women, for the entire LGBTQ community, for the Muslim and Jewish communities, and for basically anyone who doesn’t look like me. I get that, and I understand that passions are really high right now. I’m glad that they are, because it means we’ll all stay focused and engaged long enough to hopefully take back the House in 2018 and regain the White House in 2020. It’s going to be really hard to remember that we’re on the same side when it matters, and for people like me, it’s really important to recall a lot of what MLK wrote in his letter from a Birmingham jail.

I’m gonna get yelled at for this, I’m sure, but I’m doing my best. I hope this answers your question.