the only girl worth it

6

Ace attor…nay?? We’re here to save the day!!!

Made some new Ace Attorney buttons (& a special heart shaped Miles/Feenie button!) for Anime North 2017! The ones I used to print were from 2014 and suuuper old and I didn’t like having them in circulation, despite how well they sold. so now it’s time for a redraw! I didn’t have enough time so I chose the characters that were the most liked! See y’all at AN *WINKS

my song about Ana

let me be thin

let me be smaller

than all of my friends

let me begin

with coffee and cigs

I’ll walk 15 miles

when the cravings sink in


beautiful girls

they float by on

water and tippy toe twirls

beautiful girls

they reach their nirvana

with bones and pale pearls


if you could see

the things that I see

when I look into the mirror,

you’d wanna be free

I’m taking up space

I don’t want to eat

the fat on my body,

I wish to delete


let me be petite

let me be a rose

I want to be beautiful

and gentle and cold

let me be hungry

and let me be tired

at least my figure

gets thinner in time


if I can push boundaries,

I can be build walls

I’ll set up restrictions

cheek bones and sharp jaws

if I can be tiny,

it was worth the wait

consuming only air on

every dinner date


the girl that’s within me,

she’s finally coming through

soon I will be happy

soon I will be true

Close to You (Smut)

MASTERLIST

Request: Do a smut please with shawn please. idc what its about

Word Count: 1,816

Close to You

I was sitting on the edge of the white - rather large -  hotel bed, staring out the room. Somehow, this hotel room seemed bigger than the others, or maybe I was just missing home more than normally today. Little peeks of water drops ran down the window beside me, but I couldn’t hear the rain outside.

Suddenly, Shawn’s cold fingers caressed my cheek. He let his arms slide around my waist, hugging me from behind, as he dropped down on the bed as well.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Looks like Camila is stopping at nothing. Good for her. I can't wait for her to perform in VS fashion show. I bet she would try so hard not to eyeing all the models. Obviously she doesn't know how subtle about it. The struggle would be so damn real girl.

The only girl worth eyeing

My recommendations for fall of anime 2017 (based on my first impression)
  • Houseki no Kuni

I’ve seen a lot of people dropping this because it’s 3D, but the colors are beautiful and the story is just as beautiful, I say you should really give this one a chance, go through the first episode until the end, I don’t think you’ll regret it

  • Garo: Vanishing Line

badass MC with really cool animation and the art style is so nice and the plot is crazy af and it’s the good kind of crazy.

  • Inuyashiki

just watch the first episode, you’ll know it’s gonna be good.

  • Juuni Taisen

survival game! with amazing animation and art style, the character designs are really cool, it’s pretty damn nice.

  • Kino no Tabi: The Beautiful World

you don’t have to watch the original series to watch this, so you can go ahead and enjoy Kino’s journey, there’s a lot of things to love about this (but the original series is really good, maybe watch that one too?)

  • Net-juu no Susume

this one is so relatable like, SO relatable like oh my god! + it’s funny and cute and it’s most likely going the romance path which is great, because the two of them are just adorable together. I love this one.

  • Mahoutsukai no Yome

need I say more? I think everyone’s already watching this and loving it.

  • Kekkai Sensen & Beyond

this one is the second season of Kekkai Sensen, so if you haven’t watched the first, I highly recommend you do and then come and watch this one.

  • Just Because!

this one has high potential to be a really good romance anime, in my opinion. But if you’re not keen on high school romance, then I guess this one isn’t for you.

  • Code:Realize: Sousei no Himegimi

a princess and a thief and this time around he just wants to steal her heart. Pretty art style.

  • Kujira no Kora wa Sajou ni Utau 

the world this anime presents is so interesting and beautiful but despite how beautiful the visuals are, I sense a lot of heartbreaking things coming our way.

  • Animegataris 

I’m not really too sure about this one, but I found myself enjoying the first episode, it’s an anime about people who love anime. It could get really good.

  • Konohana Kitan 

a gay anime about fox girls doing cute things together and falling in love while doing so, worth it.

  • Shoujo Shuumatsu Ryokou 

two girls, the only ones left in the world, always with each other, trying to survive.

  • Ousama Game: The Animation

it looks okay so far, I say we should stick with it for a few more episodes to see how they handle it because it could get really good

Being a feminist means also loving and taking care of shy girls. Fuck the idea that ‘strong’ girls are the only girls worth respect. I want to see more posts for the shy girls, the quiet girls, the girls with anxiety, the girls who feel their limbs seizing up find it difficult to breath as soon as they are confronted. You are beautiful princesses and just as important as any loud, ‘strong’ girl.

anonymous asked:

how do you know if you're in love ? because i've been thinking about this one person none stop and im craving them so much and shit and the sound of their voice makes me feel like i jumped 100 meters high or whatever and i need the slight attention from them to feel like my day was good and im so fucked up idk if this is what love is bc if it is i fucking hate it i dont wanna feel this way about someone who doesnt gjve a shit about me

you know you’re in love with someone when they’re the first person you want to tell good news to, the first person you want to tell bad news to, the first person you want to tell just about any news to, or not even news but just about anything that comes to mind. however, loving someone is only worth it when it’s reciprocated. if that person doesn’t make you feel like the only girl/guy in the world then they’re not even worth your energy.

when i was five, and romance didn’t exist for boys, it did exist for me. “she’s going to break hearts one day,” people said, speaking about me over my head. i smiled, because that is something little girls are supposed to be pleased to hear.

when i was six i was supposed to kiss my best friend because he was a boy, and when i wouldn’t, he pushed me down hard enough that my palms bled. he said if i told a teacher, he’d tell everyone i kissed him and i was bad at it. i washed off in the school’s bathroom sink and cried about it all through recess.

at eight, i stopped wearing dresses because i couldn’t turn cartwheels in them. “a tomboy,” somebody said about me, over my head, as if i couldn’t hear them. i said, “i don’t want to be a boy,” and they laughed. “we know, sweetness.” i said, “i’m not sweet, i’m serious,” and they laughed again. “you’re cute,” they said. i smiled at that, because that’s something little girls are supposed to be pleased to hear.

at nine, i had too many friends that were boys. “i don’t like it,” my father said, standing in the kitchen. i didn’t understand it. “your body is going to start changing soon, and i don’t want those boys looking at you. i don’t like it,” he’d repeat. we moved away that summer. i lost everybody.

when i was eleven, my teacher took me out of the classroom and asked me to put on another layer because even though it was hot in there, all of the boys were staring at the little forming bumps on my chest. i remember embarrassment spiking down my spine like lightning. i begged my mother to take me bra shopping. it was terrible there, in those bright stores with bright lights and beautiful women with tight thighs. it was terrible and embarrassing to touch or look at or even think about these things.

at thirteen, my best guy friend wrestled me to the ground and covered me in kisses no matter how much i asked him to stop it. “it’s supposed to be like this,” he kept repeating, “just stop struggling.” he told me i was pretty and lovely and that boys and girls can’t be friends. he told me to stop being so mad at him, that little girls are supposed to be pleased about these things.

the same winter, i was catcalled for the first time in my whole life. i jumped when the car pulled up by my side. they said “baby” over my head as if i wasn’t who they were discussing. i didn’t smile about it. i had to sit down to stop myself from vomiting. 

when i was fifteen, half of my friends were boys. my best friend was in love with me. he told me i was breaking his heart. he said that if i didn’t love him back, he’d have nothing to live for anymore. the story with the rest of them is all the same. either they left me or they thought they fell in love with the idea of somebody i wasn’t.

that summer when i was sad - and i was sad categorically, always - i tried reaching out. when i turned to the boys, all i heard was, “don’t cut, you’re beautiful,” “don’t kill yourself, you’re so pretty,” “think of the scars, sweetie,” “when you cut yourself, i’m the one who starts bleeding.” i didn’t smile, although i think girls are supposed to be pleased to hear these things. i didn’t know how to say: i don’t feel beautiful, and even if i did, what i’m doing to myself has nothing to do with you, or what i look like, or how fuckable i am to you. instead i told them i was fine, and fixed, and nothing bad was happening.

when he broke my heart, it was because i told him no. when he left, i cried because it hurt to watch my best friend go. when he left, he said that he’d never liked me for my soul: only for my curves, the only real way to measure worth in a girl.

at sixteen, i had only girl friends. they were gentle, and different, and walked me through things. they held my hand when classes got too loud for me, and it meant friendship. they kissed me on the cheeks when i was crying, and it meant friendship. they slept next to me and it was friendship in the way i wasn’t used to. i was used to “stop being a tease,” to “why are you doing this to me.” it was just friendship, and it was excellent.

i was called a dyke, a lesbian, a man-hater. i thought of the men who had hurt me, who had spoken over my head, who had given me their full opinion even though i never asked for it. i was hated by basically everyone. i was sad and lonely so often that i often thought i’d never feel happy again.

at nineteen, in college, i had friends who were boys again, because college boys are supposed to be old enough to see you as a person. they all called me Steve, short for Steven. at first i thought it was some kind of inside joke, that it was cute, that it meant they loved me the way i loved them all. one day while we were both drunk, i asked one of them why they wouldn’t just say my name. he laughed. he said, “god, you’re going to hate me when i explain.” he said that they’d all formed an agreement behind my back that none of them would fuck me, that if i was going to be one of the bros, i couldn’t be a girl to them. i could only be seen as a boy if i wanted to be their friend. he said this all while staring at a point over my head, and tried to kiss me at the end. when i pushed him away, he said, “sorry, steve,” took a breath, “but if i start seeing you as a girl, i’m gonna try to kiss you again.”

i said, “i don’t want to be a boy, though,” and he laughed again.

he said, “i know, sweetie.”

at twenty-two, i am sick of boys who are “nice,” who are “not like other boys,” who are offended when i don’t immediately trust their intentions. i have been hurt over and over and over again. i only talk to about three of my boy friends and the rest i lost because i dared not to fuck them. 

at the same time, i kept most of my girl friends. i have had crushes on most of them. it never impacted our relationships. even girls who are gay like i am know that being friends doesn’t mean i owe them. they hold my eyes when i talk to them. 

i’m sorry, i’m sorry, i’m sorry. i love so many people, and many boys are wonderful and charming and excellent. i’m sorry i flinch away from a friendship. i’m sorry i will be cold and unaffectionate and scared of getting too close

it’s just that, since i was five, i was told i break hearts.

—  girls don’t owe you shit, dude: a polite reply to a post which inadvertently blames girls for distrusting the affections of a guy friend // r.i.d
Peril(Chp. 2)

Originally posted by ky-ngsoo

One |

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Mafia!au, angst, fluff at some point

Word Count: 4K

Warning: Death, mafia… stuff… ?

A/N: I keep writing less and my cliffhangers suck 😭 😭 😭 

(y/n), a bright light in the world of the mafia as she gets sucked in. First, she gets engaged to a mafia gang leader- but a beautiful, dangerous blonde, has other plans.

-

He shot Yule.

Yoongi shot Yule without an ounce of hesitation. Just- just lifted his gun, pointed at the beating organ that kept the bodyguard alive, and pulled the trigger, eyes on Daegyoo the whole time. He didn’t even blink, the bullet going straight through the heart. There was no emotion or feeling of any kind present, only a tiger killing to scare his weakening prey.

How can someone… just do that? How?

*

Yoongi placed the gun on the table next to him, within reach- a threat aimed directly at Daegyoo, to show who was in control over the situation. Like the pale-haired man expected, the other gang leader was a hard nut to crack- stealing his wife from his hand and killing one of his members only seemed to increase his anger.

Then Daegyoo started to laugh.

Crazily, a frenzied laugh that echoed too loudly through the vast room, making the chandelier’s crystals and chains shake. The staff seemed to wince instantly, quivering in their shoes as Daegyoo started to laugh harder.

His soon-to-be-wife sat there next to him, looking down at her lap with an absent look on her face. Probably still in shock. Yoongi was only amused by the hysterical man, his under-stress actions always proving to be interesting.

“You… you want my wife?” he spluttered through laughter heavy with insouciance.

“Fiancee,” Yoongi corrected for the sake of the poor girl. She had done nothing the whole time but sit there, listening to their boring discussions. Her tolerance was impressive, he had to admit that much.

“You have to be joking,” Daegyoo’s amusement had died down, now looking at Yoongi criticizingly. “I didn’t know the famous Min Yoongi trades in women for more purposes than just sex.”

He was mocking him, in a weak way that only lessened Yoongi’s withered image of him.

“I have my reasons,” the younger man shrugged nonchalantly. “If you are interested in my reasonings, give me what you owe and I’ll consider an explanation.”

Daegyoo’s eyes darkened even more, considering they were already pitch black. The money was already back in his mind, and he peered to the side at his distant fiancee.

He turned back to Yoongi, who was waiting expectantly. “What are the conditions if I do agree to have her handed over to you?”

Yoongi couldn’t help but sigh through his nose in annoyance. “When an agreement is made that will comply for both parties, you will hand over the girl straight away and permanently. This will lengthen the deadline of your payment by four weeks.”

Daegyoo raised his own eyebrows, almost impersonating Yoongi. He had done negotiations before- but with the head of the BTS gang, that was a different story. He was notorious for his mysterious reasonings and sharp senses. “Only four weeks? Certainly this girl is worth more than that. And I want to have my fun with her tonight.”

The man sitting opposite of him was getting impatient. He didn’t want his whole evening to be wasted on this man and listening to his habit of ‘loving’ his women. The girl, Yoongi has forgotten her name, was still spaced out even after his revolting comment. She may be worth more than an extension of a month, but he didn’t have enough tolerance and restraint for this man.

For the second time this evening, his hand slithered to the gun next to him. Without a single ounce of hesitation, he raised the lethal weapon to the second bodyguard at the door, who recoiled in fear but stayed put.

“Do you think I’m playing any games with you?”

Daegyoo started to visibly sweat. He bit his lip nervously, gulping so his Adam’s apple moved up and down. He knew what Yoongi was capable of- the infamous Suga, evermore cold and heartless.

“Please, just put the gun down…”

A soft, melodic voice had spoken, and Yoongi was quick enough to hide his surprise. But he went rigid when she leaned over to him, standing up from her chair. Without thought she seemed to place her smooth hands on his wrist, and Yoongi’s mind screamed contact. Before he was able to jerk his hand away and a raise a second gun to her forehead(in case she was going to snap his wrist or seize the weapon), she only lowered his wrist downwards so the aim wasn’t on the trembling man.

Yoongi would have gotten a full view of her cleavage if her dress didn’t have a halter top.

He was startled by the thought.

“Thank you,” she said calmly, before sitting herself down again. Her voice was unusually silky and composed, in contrast with her earlier behavior. The last time he heard her talk it was just a whisper he barely caught, now speaking to him in a full voice, unafraid.

Daegyoo grinned at Yoongi cockily, as if he was proud how his wife had blocked his threat. “Good job, my love,” he whispered to her, the whisper causing his grainy voice to become even more intense.

She only turned her head to him, eyes dark and hiding her emotions expertly. “Pardon me, but I didn’t do it for you. My sole purpose was to save a life that was going to be slaughtered on unfair terms.”

Daegyoo paled at her attacking comment, and Yoongi’s triumphance increased.

As if sensing the triumphal feeling, she turned her head from Daegyoo to him, before glaring wholeheartedly.

Yoongi gave her an arrogant smirk back, lightly out of his character. But this girl was the one that cut off part of his plan by blocking his threat, and intimidation would help things go smoother.

However, she wasn’t intimidated. Not like Yoongi didn’t expect that, since he was the only one that seemed to see the everlasting fire in her eyes.

Daegyoo gritted his teeth, staring heated daggers, bullets, and any other artillery you can think of at her. (y/n) bluntly ignored him, an air of irritation around her. No, it wasn’t irritation- more like hidden furiosity.

Yoongi’s suspicion was proved right as she glared at him instead. At least things will become less boring at headquarters.

“Ungrateful bitch…” Daegyoo violently spat at her, before, in a forthright way, made a grab for his own pistol.

The blonde expected as much, for Daegyoo to lose his cool and murder his own fiancee. But he couldn’t have that, because that girl was too much of an important price to just throw away. “Daegyoo, I wouldn’t do that if I was you. If you kill her, our contract dies along with her- meaning you’d have to pay up here and now.”

His hand stopped halfway down the table, sweaty fingertips almost touching the metal handle. The blackette’s teeth were bared, looking like a wolf that was backed into a corner he couldn’t escape from.

Daegoo shoved the gun aggravatingly further into its holder, now sending a lethal gaze to Yoongi. The still seething man flicked his wrist upwards, curling his fingers to make a gesture for someone to come closer.

A waiter scurried forward, narrowly avoiding the sharp corners of the tables and slippery tablecloth.

“Yes, sir?” she whispered, keeping her head down and arms clasped behind her.

The blonde noticed that the girl didn’t react to the waitress’ fearful behavior like she did before. She didn’t smile or act kind, instead keeping her eyes trained on the environment and on high alert.

“Get me a cigar,” he growled, clenching his thick fingers in front of him on top of the table. The joints and skin turned white at the tension as she hurried off.

The female next to him rolled her eyes, now obviously unfearful of his demeanor. I see she doesn’t approve of the ways of the mafia, Yoongi mused. She will after spending time around us. Then she’ll act like us, become like us. Whether she wants to or not.  

The waitress hastily pushed herself back through a pair of double doors, giving only Yoongi a glimpse of the spotless kitchen. She had a brown box clutched in both hands, ringed with golden lining that zigzagged against the pecan brown leather.

Dressed in a white waist apron and black clothes, she peeled off the leather that represented the opening, revealing neat rows of long, almond shaped cigars.

Daegyoo gruffly took one from the box, without a single word of thanks or acknowledgement. The girl handed him a lighter with the restaurant logo on it. He snatched it from her, accurately lighting the cigar with a single press of his index finger. The fire started, then went out as it was passed to the brown tip.

A feathery trail of grey leaked from the outer wrapper towards the ceiling, and the minor mafia boss took a long, hard pull on the weed. He blew it all out threw his mouth, creating a loop in the air, becoming wider by the second like a ripple in water.

Yoongi didn’t cringe away as the expensive smell of the tobacco reached his slim nose.

He was too used to the smell- and others, of course. Ones that the average man his age should have stayed far away from.

“I have one condition to the agreement,” he started after he breathed in the smoke once more. “as said before, (y/n) and I are engaged. Therefore I want her back after those four weeks, not you owning her permanently like you said before.”

(y/n). Pretty name, but not a very normal everyday name either. Yoongi thought about it, already having disagreed with Daegyoo the moment he said he had a ‘condition’. The mafia boss disliked exchanges almost as much as meetings between gangs.

(y/n) send him a gaze heavier than lead, curiosity filled in those bright orbs. Maybe Yoongi can tame her a bit through Daegyoo’s condition, especially that tongue of hers…

“May I remind you that I have the upper hand in this situation, not being the one that owns the other fifteen billion won?” Yoongi hit right back, straight for Daegyoo’s too-large ego. He could see the anger flare in those dark eyes, but continued anyway. “And who says I can guarantee that she will still be alive when I return her?”

(y/n) gave Yoongi a look that was so tremendously unbelieving and incredulous he almost had the nagging to lay out what he did for a living, piece by piece. Part by part. Until it was drilled into her head that she was in a different world now.

Daegyoo beat him to it, and Yoongi moved his murky and mysterious eyes from (y/n) to his one-man opposer. “She will be alive when you return her to me after a month,” he hissed stubbornly, an intimidating edge to his voice.

The man in black sighed again, not understanding the other’s perseverance in the matter. “Daegyoo. Listen to yourself. I am the one with power here- you have no right to make objections.You’re lucky I’m still here listening to your nonsense.”

“You will agree to my terms, or else I’ll reveal the drug dealings that you sold to the secretary of state in Hong Kong.”

His threats are terribly weak, Yoongi brooded to himself, amused. What’s the harm in giving him what he wants? Just strengthening a bond between two gangs. I don’t need (y/n) anymore when I’m done with her- not to mention her rebellious and fiery attitude was working itself against Yoongi’s nerves.

“Very well then,” he replied, leaning back into his chair so his bleached locks fell in front of his eyes. (y/n)’s eyes widened by a fraction- probably not having expected him to give in so easily; so early.

Daegyoo grinned in satisfaction, a small victory in the last hour of sweating, stressing, and stomach-turning conversation. After having payed off his debt to the me, winning (y/n) back and having her do his bidding after the humiliation she bought him would be very gratifying to him. Anyone would find it pleasing to have this strong-headed woman bow down to them, after all. Yoongi almost wanted to do the same.

*

“You don’t seem to have a lot of obligation, my darling,” Daegyoo grinned down at me, flashing that one golden tooth engraved in his flesh. Time to strike back after my hit only minutes ago, I suppose.

The two men looked at me expectantly, even Yoongi was silently staring at me with those indifferent eyes. I stared right back, challenging him to make my life even more miserable then it already was. Then it was made.

“Well, obviously,” I give my to be husband in four weeks a sarcastic smile. “It looks like I’m not allowed to have much say in the matter, so why bother arguing against it?”

I could feel Yoongi growing impatient, and I unfearfully bathed in that feeling of making him wait. That single tinge of having that power over the dominant man was quite satisfactory, after making a deal with Daegyoo over me like I was some kind of object.

Daegyoo wasn’t happy with my response, instead shooting me a provoking look and turning back to the bored blonde. “I agree to your terms and conditions. I have four weeks starting when, exactly?”

The infamous Suga gave him a look of utter discontent. Not even I could believe how slow my fiancee was on certain things. “Starting now. Meaning, in exactly a month at seven past twelve is the deadline of your payment. If you’re unable to deliver the money in physical cash before that, my men will raid your enterprises and take over all of your ownerships. If all of these items don’t measure up or equal to the debt, your family will be next on the line.”

Your family will be next on the line.

“You’re joking,” I spit at Yoongi, and he slow turns to look at me, extremely disinterested. I don’t care if it’s this slimeball’s family, but killing lives that have nothing to do with the situation was going too far for me. “You’re going to murder others and collect what they own for another’s debt?!”

My voice was growing in anger and size, my eyes turned to slits. I was gripping my fingers aggressively, the muscles in my legs tensed under the table, crossed over each other. My teeth clenched against each other the moment I, so fucking far, finished what I wanted to say.

“This is how things go in the mafia, sweetheart. Get used to it.”

Sweetheart?

Yoongi stood up, revealing his lean figure and slim shoulders. He gazed down at me condescendingly, eyebrows twitching in disgust as he took in my rigid form, eyes perceptive and watchful, waiting for a strike from any direction.

He snorts, me internally betting he’d seen my stance so many times before. “Sweetheart, if I wanted you dead you would already be a bleeding out on the floor. Calm down, you’re too precious in my plan to be lost so easily.”

Yoongi’s mocking was more annoying than Daegyoo’s sandpaper voice.

The blonde grabbed the gun from the table, shoving it in the holder that was hidden by the hem of his black turtleneck. I had forgotten about it, I realized. Stupid (y/n).

He motioned for me to follow him, leaving my fiancee watching me attentively.

“See you in four weeks, my love.”

I hate my life, I think to myself as I stand up, the silk of the dress clinging to my body. First, there’s this old sleazeball who wants to marry me, with his sweaty, lumpy fingers and irritating voice. Now I’m being taken away by a ten times hotter mafia boss just a few years older than me, with his beautiful figure and matching voice. But his personality is rotten.

My luck…

The black heel of Yoongi’s shoes hit the carpeted floor, the only sound in the deathly-silent room. The only bodyguard was quaking in his own shoes, and it slowly dawned to me that I had to walk next to… Yule to follow him.

I tried to swallow. My saliva got stuck in my throat, brewing and bubbling there like poison in a cauldron as my eyes unwillingly trailed to the corpse of a friend. Stop it. I shut them tightly, feeling sweat form at my temples and my palms. Breath, (y/n). Fucking breath.

I’m going to have an anxiety attack, I realized as I shuffled my high heels to the luxurious exit. I’m going to faint in this beautiful room like some sort of weak prissy…

Black spotted the edges of my eyesight, my limbs feeling unusually heavy. I wanted my arms to fall off my shoulders, my legs to fall off my waist, my head to fall off my neck. I wanted to melt into the ground, to not face reality and let this darkness take me away to places far away from this hell…

No, (y/n).

Why not?

Would Yule want that? Would Yule want you to faint because you had to face the fact that he’s dead and lying there? Would Yule want you to let down your defences and let everyone think that you’re weak?

No…

Because you’re not weak, (y/n). Remember what he said? “You don’t let anything get you down, do you?”

No, I won’t let anyone bring me down from where I want to be.

I slurp a deep breath in through my mouth, the fresh air tasting like rich perfume, foreign to me. But it was air, and it calmed down my hyped brain and failing nerve system. Breath in, and out. That’s right, in and out. Just like that (y/n).

I opened my eyes, the light temporarily blinding me. Everything came back into focus- the neat tables with their round tables and shiny white table clothes, the plush seats that resembled armchairs, the bar on the side with tall stools.

I made my forward, not even blinking at Yule’s slumped frame. I’m sorry, Yule. Please forgive me. I’ll remember you, I promise.

Yoongi was there waiting for me, leaning against the reception counter. The receptionist behind him snuck glances at his back, tight in the wool of his turtleneck. If the blonde noticed, he didn’t say anything. His eyes finally landed on me, and I firstly noticed the thin metal rings through both of his ears, a silver sphere pierced through his right as well.

No words passed between us as stopped investigating me, probably having noticed my anxious behavior. I curse myself for having been so obvious, and for blushing under his gaze earlier, and for thinking how he looked when he would blush instead…

And the list went on, as the blonde went to the elevator, the metal doors already open.

He went in, turned around and pressed a low button. There wasn’t a single companion with him, as he anticipated me to join him. I went after him, pretending not to notice how our shoulders brushed against each others as I entered.

And as peace lulled between us, I let the final question get to me.

Why did he want me to lengthen Daegyoo’s payment?

Me, as in my clumsy, food-driven self.

Why, oh why? I’ve never been involved with the mafia before- I have no record with them whatsoever. Until he showed up at my home, of course. My mother died early, as well as my brother. I have no money. I have no connection to him or any of his partners, so why am I so important to those two influential mafia leaders?

“I didn’t know the famous Min Yoongi trades in women for more purposes than just sex.”

What do those two know about me that I don’t know about myself?

Min Yoongi, huh. Is interested in women only for getting rid of the boner in his pants. Okay, so he doesn’t want me as a prostitute. That’s good. I wouldn’t give himself over to even if he asked nicely. Maybe. Or… not.

I peer at him through my heavily mascara-applied eyelashes.

His eyes were trained firmly on the elevator doors, one hand shoved nonchalantly in his pocket. He wasn’t much older than me, maybe three years between us. At first glance, he definitely doesn’t look like someone who controls half of the city. But if you look closer- the glimpse of the gun under his shirt, guarded eyes who hasn’t let anyone in in years, posture strong and fixed.

Yoongi was shorter than Daegyoo, but still towered over me in heels by a good inch. Without heels, about five.

Being short sucks sometimes, especially when you’re a woman who’s trying to be intimidating in a world full of literal danger.

The donk! of the elevator reaching its floor awakens me from my thoughts(the ones where I make lists of what I could do if I was tall). The metal doors open too slowly for my liking, the air lessening its staleness as fresher oxygen floods in.

I am greeted with yet another brunette, casually leaning against the wall, probably waiting for Yoongi.

My first thought: holy fuck those cheekbones are straight from heaven.

My second thought: he’s handsome. Are all members of BTS handsome? Like Jungkook? Assuming the bunny-toothed man is in BTS, of course.

The tall man looks up from his phone, and a rather blinding smile evolves onto his face as he sees Yoongi. Is that smile really for him? I sneak a look behind me. Nope, it’s for him. Yoongi, on the other hand, has no reaction to the suddenly exuberant man skipping towards him.

Wait, skipping?

His smile almost blinded me as Yoongi greeted him, and the other beamed. Words passed between them that I didn’t catch, my eyes wandering around the room. I was tired, done with gangs for the day and only wishing to go to sleep. On anything, if I had to.

The brunette peeks at me from behind Yoongi’s back, smiling at me this time. At me? I could feel my uncomfortableness and fatigueness melt away as he came to me, jubilant in every way. What a nice aura. “Hi! I’m J-Hope, nice to meet you!”

J-Hope?

“Uh- uh, hi. I’m (y/n). Nice to meet you too,” I say back dumbly, still staring at him and his full cheeks and bright eyes. Is this guy really part of the mafia or the son of motherfucking Apollo and Helios combined?

“(y/n)-ah!”

A familiar voice rattles in my ears, a young one at that. I inaudibly sigh in relief, the cry soothing to me less alien than the rest.

J-Hope turns around as well, while I see a familiar figure running to me, and see Jungkook in full light after our meeting not so long ago.

“Oh?” J-Hope looks at me, surprise in his eyes. Not only that, but a teasing feeling to them as well. He seems okay, absolutely okay. Better than Yoongi.

Jungkook stops suddenly in his steps, looking down at his feet flusteredly. I see Yoongi from the corner of my eye, looking at him dangerously. The younger boy had immediately taken the hint, being embarrassed with his unprofessional behavior, probably.

Yoongi’s a flat-out deadbeat. Why the fuck should Jungkook be ashamed for saying hello? “Hey Jungkook, didn’t expect to see you so early,” I smile at him, giving him a small wave. Take that Min.

Astonishment wavers from the two males, but I take no heed. My relationships with others won’t be they’re business’, even if it’s with members from their own gang.

“(y/n)-ah, what’s going on?” Jungkook squeaks, slightly frightened by the older man’s cautioning look. “Why are you with Yoongi-hyung and-”

Another scary look from Yoongi silences him, and I let my irritation through, crossing my hands over my chest. I point a thumb at the male in black. “Ask this dude over here, who just sold me over from a pack of filth to him. And without me knowing why of course, he’s that charming.”

Jungkook’s jaw promptly drops open, while J-Hope exchanges looks with Yoongi.

He’s in on it.

Suddenly, I don’t like the exuberant man as much as I did before.

Sit, think, and say the line.

If you’ve done something so bad that she doesn’t want to talk to you, sit there and think. Don’t leave the room or storm out. Sit there and think of a brilliant thing to say back.

For example, she’s angry that you kept looking at another girl. She tells you to leave but you stay. After a while of thinking you say ‘you’re the only girl that would be worth my time looking at. Some girls are worth a few seconds of looking but you’re worth them all.’

See. Brilliant. She will love it.

Sit, think, and say the line.
It’s how it works best.

anonymous asked:

Had a girl come in screaming at us saying we stole her credit card from the drive thru window. Lady, it's not worth losing our jobs over plus only one girl has been at the window in the last two hours and she's being promoted. If we had your card we would have given it to you. After I explained I could check the cameras to figure out where her card went, she told me to forget it and walked out.

Sansa doesn't want "to feel better than everybody else" 😒

alright so ok maybe Sansa wants to be queen but let’s be real the only reason I can imagine is so that she won’t have to be a pawn anymore- she won’t have to get carted off to marry any more monsters to benefit some other man. In her heart she knows jon won’t ever let that happen, but logically she knows he can’t go around saying no to any future marriage proposals forever (as Sansa discussed the consequences of insulting lords) and in the end she really hasn’t had good experience with men swearing to look out for her. Of course, Jon is very different from Littlefinger, but with the war and Jon’s fresh kingly status it makes jon in an even more precarious position to constantly refuse marrying Sansa, which I’m sure lurks in her mind all the time. Arya doesn’t know sansa’s story, and Sansa isn’t the kind anymore to wax poetic about her life and fears. Sansa doesn’t want power for the sake of it, she just wants to be powerful enough to be worth something. And in Westeros, really the only kind of high born girl worth anything but a chess-piece is a queen. Sansa’s not stupid, she knows that. Jon has literally gone to war for her, and I know he’d never sell Sansa off like Petyr did, but Sansa is jaded and traumatized, and doesn’t know that. Littlefinger was literally the only ally she had before Jon (besides Shae) and he sold her to Ramsay. Of course she wants to be more than an unmarried lady. Because how does that story always end? She, as Arya sooo *kindly* puts it, does not want to “feel better than everybody else”. She wants to feel like a damn human being. Arya wouldn’t get that, she spent her years either as a boy, or an assassin across the sea where they literally gave 0s about gender or power struggles. Sansa knows the only way to be safe is to be powerful, and even though Jon wants to protect her she knows he can’t because “nobody can protect anyone.” She wants to be able to protect herself, not sit back and hope the person she’s trusting doesn’t betray her, as everyone has in the past - leaving her hurt and traumatized to say the least. She’s had enough of that, as any human being with a pulse would after 7 years of hell.

we are used to our oppression

The girl in ripped jeans has been sent home before, so now we just sigh. The girl with the long legs, and pretty figure, has been told to cover up before, so now we just sigh and the teenage girl raped on campus has happened before, too many times to count, so now we just sigh, because we are used to our oppression. The boy in the hall says we should smile more, because girls are only worth something when they’re pretty.

I wish I had known at a younger age, that I threw like a girl, talked like a girl, ran like a girl, laughed like a girl, because I am a girl. The taste of the word on my tongue was sour at a young age, since being a girl was something you should be ashamed of. You were ashamed of it when you got your period and couldn’t tell anyone, when you had to buy a bra because you were insecure about your chest, but later on all people cared about was your chest, you were ashamed when the boy on the football field told you you threw like a girl, when the boy in the classroom called his friend a girl because he was afraid, you were ashamed when you asked your teacher to go to the bathroom, and you couldn’t tell them you were on your period, because you were supposed to be ashamed. You were supposed to be ashamed. Ashamed of your body, of your vulnerable personality, of your high pitched laugh, your short hair, your long hair, your thick thighs, your thin thighs, the shame never ends.

This is not a war declaration, feminism is not an opportunity for you to express how superior you are, because you aren’t. This movement should not be something you are ashamed of. I know you were taught to be, but you can’t be. Not when girls are relying on you, not when your daughter, your niece, your granddaughter, are relying on you.

We never hear about the girls who went to space. We hear about the annoying girls, the girls that tried too hard, the girls who don’t try enough, the girls who raise their hand too many times in class, the girls who are too sassy, too outspoken, too loud and too cocky. We always hear about the boys who go to space, and how perfect they were, how they only messed up a few times, because now a president who only abused a woman twice is a “good one”. You should be those girls. Those annoying girls we hear about. Be loud and outspoken, raise your voice and your hand. You deserve to be heard, the time of being ashamed has reached it’s end.

Falling - Jake x MC Endless Summer Fanfic

[A little note: I did it. I conquered my fear of doing an endless summer fanfic. There’s just so many about this pairing already and I wasn’t sure if I could ever do them justice. Originally, I was going to submit this for choicescreates but decided better of it because that quote has got me thinking and thinking. Hope it’s enjoyable!]

[Summary: Falling for someone is complicated - especially since it isn’t something taught but rather an experience learned, bringing people together. For MC it’s the sudden awareness that she’s fallen so deeply for Jake McKenzie that she’s afraid of what happens when she finally reaches the bottom].


Falling.

That’s something they don’t teach us while growing up. Instead, they teach us not to cry over spilled milk. How important it is to be nice to strangers and to look both ways before crossing the street. But they don’t teach us about this. One of the scariest lessons in life. Falling. Falling so deeply that there isn’t any chance of even grabbing the ledge in time to stop yourself from tumbling down. A fall so steep that there is no choice but submitting, claiming it right before it consumes our souls. No. They don’t teach us that. And they certainly don’t teach us how to survive the fall.

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