Mangooooi - Mangoi - Tumblr Blog

Petition to change “he looked at her like she was the sun” to “he looked at her like she was the moon” and any other variation bc I look at the moon in wonder and love and amazement while I’ve only ever just squinted angrily at the sun

Mulan fanart by Elena

Tomboy Mulan

75/100 days of Kim Namjoon

Story a Day for the Month of May #25

“I weighed this against the odds that I was doing something incredibly stupid, and I went ahead anyway.” I said as I poured the last of my savings into a plane ticket with the intent to fly to China, and train with martial arts masters.  “But, why?” My girlfriend asked, eyes moist, “aren’t you happy here?” “I was, for a long time, but this is my dream.” “But, that’s not really a thing people do anymore! There’s no real reason to spend your whole life dedicated to hand to hand combat training.” As I threw my coat over my shoulders, opened the door, and looked out on the rainy day. “I have to believe there is. Goodbye my love.” And with that I was gone.  The flight was fourteen hours, but I couldn’t sleep. The whole night, I stared out through a small window and dreamed of my new future. Landing in China, I promptly asked the information booth where I might find a martial art’s temple or a kung fu master. He looked at me strangely and spoke in a tongue I did not quite recognize. I asked again, slowly this time. All he said was, “No english.” I tried to tell him I was in fact, an full-blooded American and not some limey Englishmen. But he shook his head and gestured for me to move along and began talking to the people in line behind me. I made my way out onto the streets. With no luggage, I found traversing the city easy. What was hard was finding any old men with beards that ran down to their waists, wearing kung fu garbs. The one that I did find tried to sell me some roasted duck, which was tasty, but didn’t even give me any powers or wisdom. Night time came. The city light up, like the inside of an arcade. I walked for hours, taking in the smells, sights, and sounds. Then I saw it. A great mountain, with swirling clouds, just like the movies. It had to be where my master waited. Of course! No student ever waltz into a temple. You have to earn it. I began climbing it that night. Turns out climbing a mountain is toughter than I thought. I got really hungry after a few hours and tried to eat some berries, and got a tummy ache. Gathering up some leaves, I slipped into sleep, only to be awoken by someone poking me with a stick.  Squinting through dreams of black and white kung fu movies, I saw a man with a long mustache, wearing a straw hat. “Follow me.” I jumped up immediately and began to follow, face beaming the whole way. But to my surprise, he lead me back down the mountain, to a small studio next to some fish market. The inside smelled like feet and tuna. He sat down on his mat, cross legged. I followed suit. A young man brought a small platter with tea cups and a kettle. He poured us both a cup, before leaving.   “So, you wish to learn kung-fu.” The man said, taking a sip of his tea. “Yes, how did you know?” “All stupid white men who show up and climb that god forsaken mountain, think that there’s some temple up there. I’ve had to put cameras in the trees just to know when people are looking for a teacher! Haven’t they ever heard of Google?” He shook his head. “So you’ll teach me.” “If you promise me one thing, and only then.”

“Anything.” He rose to his feet, and looked down on me with a menacing force, “Help me defeat Sung Won, my old apprentice. He turned evil, said the smell of the fish day in and day out drove him mad! I told him it was an dignified aroma, and would only take some time before he mastered it’s scent. But he marched out, claiming he would return one day, and destroy the fish market. I made a vow must protect them. They give me a discount on some excellent mackerel.” I bowed to my new master. “I will do it, I will protect the fish market.” The training was brutal. We trained for six days and six nights, doing strange things like sorting mail, and filing taxes, but I knew that what I was doing was a secret technique to teach me Kung-Fu. On the seventh day, my master came to me, and told me I was ready. “Ready to fight Sung Won?” “What? No. You haven’t even started yet. I was just getting you to do my chores since you spent all your money to fly here and cannot pay for lessons! Now we begin.”Compared to the mail and the taxes, kung fu was easy. For two years we trained, honing body and spirit, ready for the day that Sung Won would return. The day he finally arrived, he was, different than what I was expecting. He wore a business suit, and even in it, I could see he was skinnier than I. “Hello. You must be master’s new student.”

I nodded, removed my shirt, muscle rippling, placing hands together as I bowed and took stance. “Huh? Oh! The whole revenge on the fish market thing. Apologizes. I got over it some time ago. Master was right, mackerel is a dignified aroma. I was actually coming to see if I could get some lessons for my son.” He stepped to the side to reveal a timid boy, clinging to his father’s pant let. “Say hello, Lee. “  The boy looked down at the ground. He looked like he might cry. I understood his pain. “So, we’re not having an epic show down?” I asked. Sung Won raised an eyebrow. “My friend, you’d win in heart beat! I haven’t practiced martial arts in ten years.” I slumped to the ground, “Then, what have I been training for?” The man shrugged and pulled out a cigarette, said something to his son I didnt understand, and the boy ran off. “The thrill of it? Wasn’t it fun? You didn’t have to work the whole time I imagine! Other than keeping Masters studio clean and probably helping with his taxes. Didn’t you enjoy yourself?” I said nothing. I couldn’t even look at this man, though we had not fought, I had never felt so defeated.  Sung Won blew out the smoke of his cigarette, looking on with pity. He dropped the cigarette to his shoe and grinded out the ash. “Tell you what, why don’t you throw just one punch at me. How ‘bout it? It’s no showdown, but I will do my best to dodge you.” I looked up at him. “Really?” He nodded, removing his suit, and hanging it on the coat rack. Taking off his shoes, he crossed the mat in front of me, bowed, and took a stance. I bowed back and readied myself. At first he smiled, but then the tension in the room shifted. The air became tight, the sounds of the outside world disappeared, and we stared into each others soul. I took a step forward, he mirrored it. Throwing a jab, he not only swiftly dodged it, but he countered into a hold. We hung and looked at each other surprised.  “Reflex. Ha.” The smile again quickly disappeared. I threw a second punch, he blocked again, and this time, he punched back. I guarded with an elbow and threw a low kick that he also blocked. Soon we were in a frenzy of flurried blows, each being blocked and parried. He began sweating through his shirt. He was not the businessman who had entered with his son, he was Sung Won, my rival. He landed the first hit, in my sternum. Backing up, I lunged with an upper kick that grazed his chin. He, countered again with a leg sweep. Wham! On my ass. He rose above me, hammering an elbow down at me, but I was back on my feet and landed a fist on forehead.  He shook it off, “Not bad.” “Same for you.”  The fight continued for what felt like hours. I had long sparring matches with Master before, but nothing like this. Those were practice. This was battle.  By the time the sun had set, were both panting, dripping, exhausted on our own sides of the mat. His right eye was swollen, and I was missing a tooth.  “How about,” he said through labored breath, “We call it a draw?” “Yeah, I think, that’d be best.” We shook hands and after a moment, he started laughing. I couldn’t help it, soon I was laughing too. We laughed, and laughed and laughed, until a tear welled in my eye. He threw back on his coat. “I better find Lee, I told him he could buy anything at the candy shop. He probably has a cavity by now.”  Before he left I called out to him. “Will we ever meet again?” He looked back at me, the tension filled the room again, just for a brief moment. “We are rivals, destiny finds a way.” And with that he was gone. 

meirl

Close to you

(Gangster! Yoongi x Goodgirl! Reader) (Rags to Riches Au) 

Summary: Nobody likes Yoongi, not your older brother or your friends. But with him, you feel more protected than possessed. And though he might be a gangster and more than a little dangerous himself- that makes all the difference. From drug dealer to producer, from rags to riches, you’re Yoongi’s person- his muse- his soulmate.

Tags: good girl x bad boy au, blood, drugs, Yoongi with tattoo’s, references to making good ol’ sweet love, Rags to riches! au, brief mentions of drunk sex, Yoongi is soft and squishy and just loves the reader a lot.

A/n: This is more a story than a fic- with a little bit of an open ending to it- legit when I was editing this it tripled in length. 

W/c: 9.8k

Song rec: Lover by Taylor Swift 

You and Yoongi play basketball together, late at night in the park near your college. You don’t know how you started meeting up, but now you do nearly every day. You gather with the others at the edge of the court when the street lights turn on. Maybe it’s just to let off some steam from your busy college schedules, less than ideal lives, or just plain because you like the game. 

It’s a mish-mash of different people from different backgrounds, misfits and goody-two-shoes alike, pros and newbies at different skill levels, but everyone is pretty good. 

The games are never serious and no one really ever keeps score. The teams change depending on who tells what joke who gives what jibe. Lines are drawn in the minutes before you start, sides taken based off inside jokes and playful feuds. 

One night when a regular named Wonho wears a crop top and calls it ‘fashion’- teams are drawn based on who thinks it’s ridiculous or not. (You and Yoongi are on the same team that night- because of course boys should be allowed to wear crop tops).

You’re always the last two to leave the court at night, sometimes just before the lights shut off at midnight, sometimes you have to hop the fence if the security guard has already come around to lock up. You joke that he might have a vendetta against your group- you always say until the very last moment the court closes and he grumbles about leaving early. 

And on the nights where strangers lean in- when the streets don’t feel so safe and shadowy figures that seem recognizable at a distance linger longer than they should. When there’s another stabbing or a rumor of a girl getting taken off the street, Yoongi is the first to ask if you want him to walk you home.

You try reserving your impression until you know him better. But the tattoos on his arms and on his chest, peaking out over the low collar of his tanktops lead you to make conclusions that you’re not proud of. 

Your first interactions with him are brief at best and you know just from how he looks that you should be careful around him. The others might play at being rugged and dangerous but Yoongi doesn’t have to pretend. 

You realize this when he stats to walk you home. No one messes with him, the other gangbangers on the street don’t catcall you when yoongi walks you home. Shop keepers seem to Nodd at him if they feel brave and close their doors the second they see him if they don’t. 

Yoongi seems pretty abnormal for a typical gangbanger, He doesn’t fit the trigger happy sadistic stereotype that the media paints others of his ilk in. 

When he first asks to walk you home, You blush and let him because Yoongi is cute, charming even, and he’s nice company, even if he does look a little threatening sometimes. 

You wouldn’t let him walk you home for any other reason then just…needing the safety he provides, not at first, not when your overprotective older brother doesn’t let you date at all. You have a dating ban until you graduate college and as long as you sleep under his Roof. 

He’d even tried to squash your interest in the pick-up basketball games when you first started going- but you needed an outlet, justified it by saying you weren’t apart of any sports teams and needed to exercise. it isn’t safe on the streets so late at night, he says (and he’s not wrong- it isn’t.) he tries to get you to stay home each night or tries to guilt you into only playing on the weekends during the daytime.

But try as you might, every time he says it isn’t safe or brings up a carefully worded story by the news on the infestation of gangs in the city, you can’t help but picture Yoongi’s face. And maybe it isn’t safe for everyone. but the way he looks at you- guarded but curious and with a hint of mirth over the edge of a ball during a pass, makes you think that it’s safe for you. 

You weren’t exactly sheltered here, in your nice apartment on the edge of where town turns from seedy to bougie. You straddle the edge of gentrification Unable to fit in perfectly with either side. You’ve already had to move your apartment twice since you moved in with him after rent hikes and new policies made your past apartments just too expensive. 

The first time your brother catches sight of Yoongi, on the stoop of your apartment building just as your brother gets home from work- perfectly mistimed, he goes apeshit when he realizes that Yoongi’s just dropped you off. Your older brother takes one look at him and says that you shouldn’t date gangsters- that Yoongi will just bring your trouble one day. 

“Jesus Christ- he was just walking me home it’s not like it’s a big deal” and you remind him that you’re not dating- that you’re just friends and Yoongi is just being nice- and that your brother should be glad you have friends that want you to get home safe. 

He tries to keep you from going out the next night and threatens you with few words not to keep seeing him. You’re late to the game because of it sucking off your pink sweatshirt and growling out that you need to work off some steam. “join my team” Yoongi says, making the others pause with a wave of his hands. 

 They reach for water bottles while you get your shoes on, Yoongi tucks the ball under his arm and stands while you finish lacing up your shoes. “you good?” he asks, “yeah just my brother being a dick and making me late.” 

You know he says it’s all for you so that you’ll do well and school and get a good job later in life and have it easy, unlike either or your parents. but sometimes it feels like he just wants to control you needlessly. Yoongi nods and you see something- the mention of older brothers darken his gaze, you wonder why.  “He pitch a fit after he saw me last night?”

 “Oh you know it,” you say with false positivity. “But don’t worry you can still like- walk me home if you want, I liked talking to you yesterday,” you say, Shooting him a smile that makes his cheeks turn a little pink, he clears his throat “if it makes you feel safer of course” He reassures, ever the gentleman, and goes to shoot some free throws while you finish getting settled. 

The blush doesn’t fall really, especially when you meet his eyes over a pass a few seconds into the pell-mell start of the game. And you start to think that Yoongi with  his tattoo’s and his roguish exterior might be the perfect amount of rebellion to get out from underneath your brother’s thumb

Of course, Yoongi ends up being a lot more than that. 

Keep reading

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BTS' V COMFORTING US IN THESE HARD TIMES. A MUCH NEEDED COMPILATION:

T.N: BTS' V (Kim Taehyung) is such a kind soul. He treats his fans warmly and with so much love. Whenever he is free he will come on Weverse (an APP made to connect BTS and their fans ARMY), he will play games, give advice, offer words of support, post pictures or just laugh together with ARMYs. He always believed that he is not good at expressing himself with words and his English is far from great but he tries hard for his people no matter his limitations. We don't deserve him.

| Cr screenshots twt taesmug edits @mimibtsghost

よつばと！

a family can be a dad, his foreign adopted daughter, a giant, and their sixteen year old neighbor

i genuinely don’t get why some people think Kags isn’t a pretty setter

like

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he’s such a beautiful hardworking boy i just can’t even

お昼からもガンバロ♬

久しぶりなポーズ☆

らくがき/doodle

in advance of a broken arm,,

HAPP BIRTHDAY @homodorito !! HERE I BAKED YOU A CAKE - UR MIDNIGHT SNACK!!

Quick coloured version of the sketch I did earlier this week

Suga my love!! <33

Volleyball dorks are in quarantine too  (~‾⌣‾)~

A: You look tired

B: Thanks, it’s the depression