that was the worst one man

Entitled To Everything

Min Yoongi x Reader 𝒜𝓃𝑔𝓈𝓉

[Genre] Angst to Fluff

[Characters] Min Yoongi || You || Park Jimin (Temporary character))

[Key line] “Are you done screwing me over?”

[A/N] OKay so this is dedicated to MY NEW BEST FRIENd @soloelcielo. This is only one out of two I volunteered to write. aYEEEEH im so sorry for ooc peoples

➹ ➹

You cried, wiping your eyes with your sleeve. “I hate you, Min Yoongi! I hate you, I hate you, I hate you!” You screamed into your knees. Tearing off your fancy clothes you threw it angrily to the ground and changed into more suitable ones. 

You were sick and tired of him, you were sick and tired of this man. You reckoned this the worst year of your life. When you found yourself a date, Yoongi would be sent to ruin, to make sure it went wrong. 

You despised him because of his ways. Tonight was just another night out of a few months worth that he did so. You checked your phone, only to see several missed calls from him. You ignored them all, and went to go watch something on TV.

It got deadly late, and you were snuggled up on the couch, laying there. You felt heavy; you couldn’t move. You didn’t want to. You were supposed to show up to work tomorrow, but you called in sick. This made your boss worry because you were always so happy. 

Soon, you drifted off into a gloomy slumber, forgetting about Min Yoongi. 


When you woke up, you immediately straightened yourself up. You had slight bags under your beautiful eyes. With a light touch, you traced them. You sighed, moving your hair to your back and smiled wearily. 

“I shouldn’t be so afraid to go out this morning,” You smiled weakly, “I’ll go and eat at a restaurant this morning…” This is exactly what you did, slipping into some comfortable but appealing clothing, slapping on some makeup and heading over to your favorite shop. 

You got there and pulled open the door, smiling at the first worker you saw. “Hello! What can I get for you today?” She asked, ready to address you. “I’d like an omelette, and some tea would be fine this morning” You slid your cash, and she jots it down. “Your order is 376. Have a good time here, ma’am” The lady nods and smiles.

She hands you change and you sit by the window. You set your purse down beside you, and pulled out your phone. You scrolled through social media as you waited, biting your lip. 

“Order 376!” Someone called. “That’s me” You said nonchalantly, standing and putting away your device to fetch your food. You got your food and sat back down, staring out at the metropolis-style place. 

You were doing great, smiling at little kids who looked like they were having a great time. What snapped you out of your daze was a tap on the shoulder. You swiftly turned around, eyes widening. 

“You dropped this” The boy said. “T-Thank you!” You smiled, and retrieved your keys to your place. “No problem. Is this seat taken?” He asked, gesturing to the seat across from you. “No, not at all. Have a seat~” You nodded, blushing a tad. 

“So nice. Thank you” He sat across, and smiled at you. The two of you sat in awkward silence as you ate your breakfast. “Oh! Uh, I should probably introduce myself” He sat straight, tensed. 

Your shoulders bunched, “I’m sorry about that. I’ll go first! My name is [Y/N].” He smiled at your name, “Cute name~ My name is Park Jimin.” Your face turned red, and you thanked him. 

“It’s really no problem. I’d like to talk more with you sometime! Your place?” Jimin chuckled. “I do too. H-Here!” You handed him your number and address quickly. “Thank you. I can’t stay too long, unfortunately. I’m sorry” He frowned, reaching a hand and laying it atop your own. 

“It’s fine! I promise! I.. See you around sometime!” You smile reassuringly. “Alright… See you then [Y/N]-ah~ I’ll be over at your house tonight!” Jimin winked before exiting the shop. 

You watched him leave, and you looked down. This might be for real, this might be successful! You finished your food and cleaned up before leaving. You decided to go around to some places, buying new things as well. 

When you got home, you set your shopping bags down and inhaled the air of your home. You showered once more, cooking yourself and the visitor some dinner. 

When you heard the door knock, you happily skipped over and opened it. “Hello, [Y/N]!” Jimin smiled, walking in. “Hello! I’ve made dinner for us!” You smiled, walking into the kitchen. 

“It smells good!” Jimin complimented. “I know, right? Here,” You handed him his serving, “I have a couple of movies we can watch.” Jimin nodded and traveled to the couch, you following behind. 

You switched it on. Jimin and You and a great time, until another knock at the door arose. “Did you invite someone else?” Jimin asked. “No…” You trailed off, getting up and walking to the door. 

You opened it, only to reveal Yoongi. Gasping, you tried to close the door. Yoongi pushed open the door and Jimin went and retrieved you first. “Get out Yoongi! Not now! Not ever! Just leave me alone!” You hissed. 

“Who’s he?” Jimin held you close. “Someone I hate!” You pushed on him, Suga struggling to keep the box he had steady. “Let me explain!” Suga said over the both of you, hid. “Go home… I’ll talk to you later, okay?” You looked up at Jimin. 

“But–” He began. “Shh. Just go. This is a private conversation. I’ll make it up to you somehow, someway” You said. Jimin nodded, and left. You looked into Suga’s eyes, they truly meant no harm. 

You loved Yoongi, but you hated him doing the things his doing to you. You calmly sat down, and asked, “Are you done screwing me over?” Yoongi nodded, and opened the box.

He pulled up a beautiful snow colored cat, and handed it to you. “Y-Yoongi…!” You gasped. “I’m really sorry for messing up you dates. I just… I needed you to myself! I didn’t want them stealing a heart I planned on taking all by myself” Yoongi said is a hushed tone. 

“I was afraid they’d beat me to it, and I kept acting like I was entitled to everything, even you” He looked down in pure guilt. You pet your new cat, in total shock.

“Aw…” You looked at him, tears in your eyes. You put the cat down and went to him, immediately kissing him. When you pulled away, you asked, “Why didn’t you just tell me? You didn’t have to do all this…” 

“I didn’t want you to reject me so quick… I had to make sure” He explained, smiling now. “Jagi…” You smiled, kissing him again. 

Corny Ending, I know.

In other news I that was the worst assessment ever.

I hate open ended stuff this one was basically “How might this one document of your choosing be relevant to studying history.” Like fuck man, give me 80,000 words and I’ll write you a novel, you can read this thing a million ways depending on context. Give me a point to argue or give me death.

3

From Theron Shan’s Instagram Account:
this is the worst vacation ever. 

1st spacebnb double books us, then it turns out its one of grandpa’s local cult hangouts (damn it grandpa! i cant go anywhere w/o u embarassing me!) then these space bullies decide to give me a force wedgie & when girl told them to pick on someone their own size they got all force chokey. not cool jackasses not cool!

(oh wait, i forgot about dromund kaas. correction: this is the 2nd worst vacation ever)

anyway i was totally gonna kick their asses when grandpa busts in on spacetime & told his little deathcult golfing buddies to take a hike (srsly grandpa stop!11!!)  turns out this is the old man’s private beach. i wuz gonna ask about him erecting giant statues to himself everywhere but then decided i didnt want to run down the battery on my holophone cuz he can go for hours about that time he & meemaw saved the galaxy & blablablablablabla

anyway the beach is ours. sk0r.

canadianwheatpirates  asked:

gah, millenials and avocados *shakes fist* we in NZ were well over that before the rest of the world got ahold of it! (tone is hard; I'm mostly joking, but the avocado toast thing actually was months old when the states picked it up 😂 )

Yes, I read the article dates. It’s still amusing. I mock it whenever possible, because the man is an idiot. At best, his words only apply to his region. In America and South America where there are millions of millennials, Avocados grow naturally. You can walk outside and pick them.

At worst, he’s one more wealthy imbecile who would like to blame the poor for their condition rather than to examine his own impact.

Man, the media in Gotham are just, the Worst, aren’t they.

Oswald got sprayed with fear toxin, if there’s ever a time when you’re allowed to scream in terror and cling to your old crush, it’s then.

Headcanon that the Gotham Gazette is considered sensationalist tabloid bullshit in universe and no one takes them seriously.

I can’t believe how long it took me to realize that the “nagging wife” sitcom stereotype is literally just “useless husband is incapable of doing his share of the housework despite being repeatedly asked” framed to demonize the woman

some of the worst things i’ve had to see on this site

-piss jello

-that person who superglued their p*ssy shut

-’i should’ve never made her eat the doo doo’

-someone adding their mans nut to their drink/shake whatever it was 

-someone eating ass on the train

-fucking lotion/shower discourse

-ppl defending bestiality 

-someone talking abt how proud they were bc they tripped a kid at work 

-that one white model i used to see everywhere pretending to be black but they weren’t on anon

-someone stealing bones

-mishapocalypse 

-ppl talking abt wanting to fuck martin freeman

-dashcon

-tumblr university 

-tom hiddleston’s laugh (’ehehehe’ you know what i’m talking abt)

MBTI: What Flavor of Soap are You?

INFP:  Special order soap.  It tastes like bug spray and menthol.  This soap was made for certain purposes; being eaten was not one of them.  You congratulate yourself on being such a rebel as you begin to see the lights.  8/10


ENFP:  Children’s soap.  It smells and tastes exotic, but you’re not completely sure what it’s supposed to be.  The happy koala on the bottle isn’t much of a clue.  It’s a bit astringent.  It burns as you swallow.  You’re glad your tongue is clean, though.  You hiccup, and a bubble leaves your mouth.  5/10

INFJ:  Dishwasher soap.  Stronger than its cousin, dish soap, but significantly more likely to kill you.  It leaves a soft white powder residue on the burns it creates on your tongue.  This is somehow your aesthetic.  It tastes like a chemical burn and a Tumblr moodboard.  You’re pleased.  10/10


ENFJ:  Dish soap.  It smells like what someone who has never seen a real, whole coconut before would imagine that coconut to smell like.  It’s a bit slimy.  No matter how much you heave, you can’t seem to get the residue off of your tongue.  It begins to sting. 4/10

ISFP:  Hotel soap.  Completely horrible.  No matter what you do, you can’t get the taste out of your mouth afterwards.  You look at the crumpled wrapper on your borrowed bathroom counter.  You can’t decide if it’s brown or gray.  It was complimentary, so you really have nothing to complain about, you remind yourself.  There are bubbles in the cracks between your teeth. You hope this will trick your dentist into thinking you actually flossed tomorrow.  It does.  You feel triumphant as he scrapes the oily residue off of your incisors, perplexed.  You’ll never tell.  9/10


ESFP:  Handmade soap.  You smushed some stuff around in a bucket, and this is the resultant creation.  It tastes like oil-flavored toothpaste.  The ingredients you bought off of eBay probably weren’t poisonous.  You’re not sure how to get the stuff out of this bucket and into a usable container.  It will have to do – you decide this is probably more rustic anyway.  As one hand shoves another chunk into your mouth, the other increases the price of your soap tenfold on your Etsy store.  You smile in the dark, the light from your computer giving your soapy teeth a pallid glow.  Multicolored spots begin to dance in your eyes.  You take another bite. 7/10

ISFJ:  Microbead soap.  Tastes like a ruined environment and clogged waterways.  You’re not sure if fish are capable of feeling sad.  The beads scrape and scratch at your gums as you swish before you swallow.  You feel them peel away every unnecessary dead cell in your mouth.  You look into the empty bottle, wishing there was more.  You open another.  Your head begins to vibrate as your stomach begins to twist.  You comfort yourself with the knowledge that your blood will finally be clean. 6/10


ESFJ:  Bar soap.  The original.  The classic.  It tastes like your childhood – at least the parts when your mother caught you when you swore.  Nutty aftertaste with mild notes at the beginning, but now that you’ve finished chewing, it just tastes like soap.  You remember why you hated it.  You spit it out.  You wonder if you’ll go blind.  5/10


ISTP:  Hand soap.  Perfumey and bland.  It eases down your throat as you slurp from the opened bottle.  You wonder if it has been watered down.  You wonder whose soap this is.  You wonder how you ended up in this bathroom, in this house.  Your stomach begins to quelch as you stagger outside.  You lurch towards the next house, wondering if the soap in another bathroom will taste any different - if it will have answers.  It won’t.  3/10


ESTP:  Shampoo.  Creamy and metallic.  It goes down smoothly as you chug from the aesthetically-molded plastic bottle.  You hurry.  When it’s empty, you quietly slip from this shower, from this house.  You move through the night towards the house next door.  Maybe their selection will finally satiate you.  You will never be full.  9/10


ISTJ:  Expensive department store soap.  Salty and vaguely acrid.  It tastes like licking a grandma.  There’s a hint of alcohol – probably the perfumes.  You look around your dimly-lit bathroom as you sit on the edge of your tub and feel dead inside.  You look at the delicate lettering on the elegant packaging and feel alive.  You take another bite.  It flakes into beige icing between your teeth.  6/10


ESTJ:  Laundry soap.  It smells absolutely fantastic, but is so concentrated that you end up in the emergency room.  It tastes like deception and suds.  Tiny bubbles line your lips.  You realize you forgot to start the dryer before the ambulance came.  You can no longer tell if it’s the soap or you that’s foaming.  It’s soft.  You wonder if you’re finally clean as you begin to fade.  2/10


INTJ:  Novelty soap.  The fragrance of this bar is particularly powerful.  The smell is so strong that your brain is tricked into thinking it’s the flavor as well; this prevents you from noticing your discomfort as it slowly erodes away at your lips.  You stare at the box, trying to decide if Blue Strawberry Bonanza is a typo.  You’re not sure.  The prize inside lends extra crunch, but you’re spitting bubbles for an hour afterwards.  This is the worst $27 you have ever spent.  7/10


ENTJ:  Straight lye. It hurts. At a pH of 13, it’s obviously very efficient – but it will wash you away as well as the grime.  It burns.  At least you didn’t waste your money on one of those useless scented soaps.  Now it hurts AND burns.  You reassure yourself with your pragmatism as you begin to die.  It tastes like blood.  0/10 


INTP:  Holiday soap.  Special, fragrant, and full of glitter.  It tastes horrible when consumed, yet this is your fifth sip.  You take your sixth.  You look at the leering gingerbread man on the peeling sticker and don’t understand why he can’t taste the way he looks just this once.  You decide to give him another chance.  It doesn’t work.  He tastes the same.  2/10


ENTP:  Car wash soap.  You’ve never felt so alive, so powerful.  The industrial foam fills your mouth, your throat, your lungs.  It tastes like wax and fire.  This is what it means to be an extrovert.  The suds drip from your eyelashes just long enough for you to see the brushes heading towards you.  They’re coming.  You’re not afraid.  They said that you shouldn’t, that you couldn’t.  You raise your fists above your head and push out a gurgled scream.  You’ll show them.   1/10

Know what these pictures bring to mind?

Super mountain man author Derek living in the middle of the woods, keeps to himself because brooding writer stereotypes and also people are the worst. So he’s legit like in the mountains somewhere, a ridiculously long way away from everything and it’s quiet and peaceful, and he can shift and go running without running into campers or people going skiing. He chops wood, he drinks coffee on his porch overlooking the valley, he writes—it’s peaceful and it’s quiet and he loves it.

And then one morning, he’s sitting on his porch, drinking his coffee and minding his own business, and a fucking serial killer wanders out of the woods. Dingy hat with a huge beard, looking like some crazy libertarian nutjob who lives in a tent to avoid the government taking his guns.

He’s a werewolf, but Derek doesn’t mess with serial killers, so he freezes and stares and hopes that if he doesn’t move, the serial killer just won’t see him. The guy looks a little rough around the edges, to say the least. It could happen.

Except the serial killer does eventually notice him, and he also freezes and stares, and seems to be…scared of him? Of the guy wearing flannel and drinking coffee with a book on his own front porch?

Turns out the serial killer is actually Stiles, out in the wilderness looking for his best friend Scott, who went on a camping trip with a couple college friends and hasn’t been heard from since. And Stiles is not actually a serial killer, just a really unequipped college kid roaming the woods, pretty damn lost, with a Tracking for Dummies book jammed in the bottom of his backpack.

And I mean living off trail mix and beef jerky levels of unequipped.

Like, the second this kid heard the rangers even start to suggest that they’d exhausted their resources, he said, “fuck you, I’ll find him myself” and took off into the mountains with his college backpack and the cheapest tent he could find.

So once Derek realizes that the not-serial killer is even more freaked out than he is, all he sees is a really pathetic, sore, and exhausted ball of rage and determination and offers him coffee. And actual food. And a shower because all he can smell is beef jerky.

Stiles is understandably weirded out because this dude offering him food definitely looks like a mountain man serial killer who cut himself off from society so no one would hear his victims’ screams.

There’s a lot of appearance-based assumptions all around.

Keep reading

  • you: magnus dragged alec into that photobooth
  • me, an intellectual: there was only one man holding back in those photos and that man was NOT alexander lightwood

this is one of the worst headlines ive ever read.absolutely cursed. hexed.lets start with the concept . a man jacked off (beat his meat. played with his trombone. rubbed the eiffel tower) in the middle of a theater while watching the film emoji movie. horrifying and reveals a lot about who this man really is. second of all the image of this man. its blurry, jpegged, and vertical. i feel like he’d enter my home and shatter my bones, killing me instantly. third of all, the fact the police are going to arrest this man for jacking off during the emoji movie. fourth of all there was witnesses. he didnt do this is an empty theater, no, he just spanked his little piggy in a crowded theater in front of people. completely surreal. he is a disgusting man with no standards but he’s also brave. anyway i fucking hate the emoji movie and the fear it brought with it

lmao so I’m very stubborn and never ask for help. I’d rather stress myself out to the point of being sick to avoid asking for favors. This is very hard for me but this is my situation:

yeahhh so I currently am a full time business student as well as bartender at a really slow and shitty restaurant. Today I made $20 in tips & make $7/hr. The checks they give me bounce every time I deposit them and this is what got me in this hole. It is the most frustrating thing bc they always have an excuse for why it didn’t go through. I would leave my job, however I have no transportation (I had to sell my car & my bf was supposed to give me a new one, but his life was rocked by hurricane Harvey in the worst way. I might get it at the end of this month.) I live in a southern, dead end town and I refuse to take the bus, bc last time I did, a man tried to shove his hand down my pants so no thanks. I’m also going through extremely expensive treatment and testing for the possibility of having endometriosis AND ibs. I’m on generic lexapro for anxiety and that’s all I can afford. I keep delaying receiving proper treatment bc my insurance sucks! I’m super anemic again & keep unintentionally losing weight. Idk how I work so much when I throw up/have diarrhea everyday and not make money??? I also care for my father who has degenerative disc disease and is disabled to the point where he can not provide for us. We are also shunned by the majority of my family bc they never accepted the fact that my dad is in an interracial marriage. Can’t even ask my grandma for help. The family that accepts/loves us all live in Panama below the poverty line.

anyway Irma is approaching with an uncertain path/strength and all I wanna do is get a train ticket or anything so I can evacuate before it’s too late. After what happened to my bf, I’m scared of taking a chance and staying. I went through Matthew last year and that was scary af! I’ve been on this site for 5 years and have never asked for anything. I’ve done everything to help myself, even almost resorted to selling pics on here to perverts… I feel like I’m just defeated right now, but I’m realizing asking for help isn’t a sin. 

I also paint portraits of celebrities and give ok advice (even tho my life is shit, I’m a good friend I think lol) so if you want something in return, I’m always more willing to give than receive!!!! 

If you’re offended, please unfollow me! It’s not hard! You’ll never have to see this from me again. Once I have this car and finish this semester, I’m getting the hell out of here for better opportunities to sustain myself and family. 

It breaks my heart to reveal this personal info bc I know we’re all struggling… idk if i’m doing this right but here it is:


venmo: rubymarietho


i love you all and understand if you can’t help, i accept moral support too :)