the last shop on the street

Hogwarts Houses Aesthetics

Gryffindor- holding rocks from the beach in yours hands, watching them flow out, being at the playground at midnight with your best friends, completing dares that no one even dared you to do, running just for the purpose of doing something, sending your best friend appreciation paragraphs for them at 3:00 A.M., going on roller coasters very confident but freaking out a little when you get to the top, playing ghosts in the graveyard with you or friends at 11:00 A.M., putting on makeup and dressing up even though you have nowhere to go, dancing and lip syncing in your room crazily, finding wonders in the little things, spacing out, diving in right away in the lake, handing out feminism badges, walking at a regular pace in the rain with your arms out, forming new clubs, being overly-excited, making small designs on the misty car window, either taking 0 selfies or 1938284 at a time, red lipstick and black mascara, scraped up legs

Hufflepuff- sugar highs, putting so much trust in your friends, dressing up as your favorite book and tv show characters, growing out your hair, blueberry pancakes when you wake up, whether that’s at 6:00 A.M. or 12:00 P.M., catching fireflies, the feeling you get when you make all your friends fall over laughing, seeing a spiny chair and immediately know what you will be doing for the rest of the day, ice cream bigger than your head, putting flowers in your friend’s hair, being the last to finish your popsicle, getting excited when you hear the ice cream truck, heart-shaped sunglasses, petting every puppy you see on the street, making a big deal out of everything, getting your friends presents even though there is no special occasion, candy shops, slumber parties, writing songs, writing stories, musicals and Broadway plays, caring about others more than you care about yourself, strip malls, taking pictures of your friends, happy drunk, defending the underdog, finding beauty in everyone’s eyes

Ravenclaw- record shops, when your face gets red after you get complimented, chokers, laughing when your nervous, cuddling with your friends at 2:00 A.M., drinking coffee in the morning, going to the beach when the waves are crazy, telling yourself to only read one more chapter but you end up finishing the book, writing letters to the author, scented candles, knee high socks, taking videos so you can remember the moment, perfect makeup techniques, laying on the rooftop at 3:00 A.M., looking at the stars, making multiple playlists for different moods, watching documentaries, playing mindlessly with your friend’s hair, eating a three course meal at 12:00 A.M., pranking your friends when they’re sleeping, putting your headphones on long car rides, binge watching Netflix, spending your day at the library, asking your friend to go to the bathroom with you, getting a churro at the fair, studying because you want to, not because anyone else wants you to

Slytherin- testing the limits, fire whiskey, mysteries, the sound of the thunderstorm against your window while you are drifting to sleep, doing anything for your friends, talking back to the teacher, smirking against the classroom, splashing the people who think the water is too cold in the lake, escaping reality, black roses, rooting for the underdog, downtown, skyscrapers, doing anything to get your way, cat ears headband, correcting people’s grammar, solving moral dilemmas easily, fixing your best friend’s makeup in the school bathroom, leather jackets, playful smirks, making faces across the classroom, knowing what your friend is saying just by reading their expression, self-deprecating humor, the moon, looks that could kill, playing sweet and sour with your close friends, doing everything yourself, with no help, rewriting history, chopping a little bit or a lot of your hair off, dirty jokes, sleepless nights, being the hero to your class because you found all the answers online, knowing when to stop but not stopping anyway

Washington D.C. in 48 hours

From rooftop views of the White House to the best Indian food in the city, Garrett M. Graff, former editor of Washingtonian magazine, reveals how to spend 48 hours in the capital.

Day One

08:00 – Like a local

It’s hard to miss the power and grandeur of Washington, the centre of the city remains a political powerhouse and it permeates nearly every corner, but there’s also much more to the city than simply politics.

After landing at Washington Dulles International Airport and you’ve settled in, start your morning like the locals with coffee and breakfast at the Tryst Coffeehouse in funky Adams Morgan, before heading up to the National Zoo (Smithsonian’s National Zoo and Conservation Biology Institute, to give it its full name). It’s seen a dramatic renovation in recent years that has turned its 163 acres into a shining gem filled with great exhibits from elephants and pandas to American buffalo. Entry is free and it’s open 364 days a year.

Noon – Power lunch

Recharge with a casual pub-style lunch at Duke’s Grocery on 17th Street NW (have the Proper Burger) or indulge in the city’s best Indian food at the fine dining Rasika in Penn Quarter, where you might very well find yourself dining next to a Cabinet member. Don’t miss the palaak chaat – crispy flash-fried spinach – that’s one of the city’s most-requested dishes.

14:00 – Read all about it

Spend the afternoon at the Newseum, the towering interactive museum of news, where you can revisit the world’s most notable events, and lose yourself for hours watching old footage and breaking news coverage. The Washington D.C. Explorer pass offers a package admission to the Newseum and other top D.C. sights like the International Spy Museum.

17:00 – No reservations

Getting into many of Washington’s hottest restaurants has grown harder in recent years, with some of the most popular adopting no reservations policies that can lead to long lines. At Bad Saint, a 24-seat Filipino restaurant – named as the second best new restaurant in the USA by Bon Appetit magazine in 2016 – lines can begin as early as 17:30.

Not up for waiting? Plan ahead with a reservation at Tail Up Goat, a Michelin-starred restaurant featuring creative Mediterranean and Caribbean food by chef Jon Sybert – expand your drinking horizons at the bar by following the lead of sommelier Bill Jensen.

Day Two

08:00 – Morning rush

Breakfast at the Old Ebbitt Grill, one of the city’s oldest restaurants, usually packed with lobbyists and power players first thing in the morning before the tourist crowd sets in during the day. 

09:00 – Famous figures

Across the Potomac River, Arlington National Cemetery is best known for its stark and formal Changing of the Guard ceremonies at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier, honouring America’s war dead, but the 600-acre cemetery is home also to the graves of many famous figures like John F. Kennedy – marked with an eternal flame ­­– boxer Joe Lewis, and Pierre L’Enfant, the architect who designed Washington. Save your feet and jump on the Hop-On, Hop-Off trolley.

Noon – Fit for a First Lady 

Lunch on the Georgetown waterfront at Fiola Mare, the glimmering Italian seafood restaurant of chef Fabio Trabocchi – a favourite of Michelle Obama.

13:30 – Remember them

Spend the afternoon wandering ‘America’s Front Lawn’ on the National Mall, starting at the Lincoln Memorial and the Vietnam Wall, then up to the sunken World War II memorial, where you can see the emotional visits of buses filled with veterans, and gaze up at the Washington Monument. [NB the monument is closed until spring 2019 but can still be looked at].

14:30 – A history lesson

Nearby, take in Washington’s hottest new attraction, the giant National Museum of African-American History and Culture, honouring the artistic contributions of African-Americans while also wrestling with the nation’s still-unfolding racial legacy of slavery and civil rights. Plan ahead – or wake up early – to score timed-entry tickets, but it’s well worth the effort.

17:00 – Treats and eats

Spend the evening wandering the environs of 14th Street NW, which has been the centre of Washington’s revitalization over the last decade. Window-shop at the boutique Salt and Sundry, Detroit-made watches and leather goods at the city’s flagship Shinola store, or vintage and antiques at Miss Pixie’s, a long-time 14th Street fixture. 

Once you’re hungry, the area has something for every palate: for the city’s swankiest French bistro, try Le Diplomate, where the breadbasket alone is worth the visit. 

Prefer Latin American? Try Tico for its hibiscus margaritas, tacos, and a delicious shredded cabbage salad. Or, on nearby 17th Street NW, get in line for mouth-burning, authentic Thai food at Little Serow [NB Little Serow is shut for summer 2017, reopening 7 September] from one of Washington’s top chefs, Johnny Monis (if it’s a weeknight, be in line by 17:00 or 17:30 for dinner, if it’s a weekend, try even earlier). Once your name’s on the list, have a drink around the corner at Hank’s Oyster Bar while you wait. 

Where to stay 

W Washington D.C. – head up to the cocktail bar for presidential views down on the neighbouring White House.

Washington Hilton is home to many of the city’s black tie galas, including the star-studded spring White House Correspondents’ Association dinner.

Hilton Garden Inn is a new hotel in the city’s West End, you’ll be just around the corner from where former President Barack Obama has set up his new office.

Plan your Washington trip now

Words by Garrett M. Graff, former editor of Washingtonian magazine 

Photo by tpsdave on Pixabay

E. Alex Jung, “Did You Catch the Translation Joke in Okja?” (via Sophia):

It’s a flagrant mistranslation—but one that would only be apparent to those who can speak both languages. Moreover, the mistranslation is a clever subversion of the supremacy of English. The subtitle is a command to learn English—something that every Korean student has heard throughout her life—but to actually understand what K is saying, you would have to know Korean. There’s an added layer of comedy to the name itself, which has the whiff of the old country about it: “Koo Soon-bum” is sort of like a white man saying his name is “Buford Attaway.” As Yeun told me, “When he says ‘Koo Soon-bum,’ it’s funny to you if you’re Korean, because that’s a dumb name. There’s no way to translate that. That’s like, the comedy drop-off, the chasm between countries.”

Bong wrote the character of K specifically with Yeun in mind, because he’s a character that only a Korean-American could play. Yeun’s performance itself is a nod to that gap; it reads differently if you know Korean. While it’s obvious that he’s a bit of a dolt, if you have the ear for the language, his failures are more apparent, because he speaks with the stiltedness of a second-generation speaker (Yeun’s actual pronunciation is a lot better). He’s not quite sure of himself, and is trying to fit into both spaces, but can’t. (This is also why the other subtitle joke that I saw, “How’s my Korean?” works in a subtler way.) Yeun said the character “speaks to the island we live on”: He was a character written for Korean-Americans.

Throughout Okja, Bong plays with the idea of translation, both its necessities and inherent limitations, and the inevitable comedy that arises out of that space. When Jay learns that K deliberately lied, he starts to beat him up, telling him to “never mistranslate!” Toward the end of the movie, K pops back up with a fresh tattoo that reads, “Translations are sacred.”

Part of what makes Okja so remarkable is that Bong Joon-ho has found ways to make jokes that track across both cultural spheres. Unlike the wave of male Korean directors who crossed over into Hollywood around the same time, Park Chan-wook on Stoker or Kim Jee-woon with The Last Stand, Bong never let go of his roots. He cast Korean actors Song Kang-ho and Ko Ah-sung and had them speaking Korean dialogue alongside Hollywood stars Chris Evans and Octavia Spencer in his dystopian train ride thriller Snowpiercer. He furthers the Korean-American dynamic in Okja, centering on a young Korean girl and pitting her against the forces of an American corporation headed by Tilda Swinton’s knobby-kneed CEO. Just as the dialogue shifts seamlessly between both languages, Bong easily trots around the world, from the Korean countryside dotted with persimmon trees to the underground shopping malls of Seoul to the streets of New York City.

“Director Bong is probably one of the few, if not the only, people I’ve seen so far, that’s been able to bridge the two together,” said Yeun. “I don’t mean being able to do an American movie—a lot of directors could probably do that—but bridging the two cultures together in a cohesive way. That’s a tall order, and somehow, he accomplishes that.”

That Awkward Moment When

John Laurens x Female Reader

Requested by @cupcakequeen1999 who was kind enough to compromise, this one goes out to you girl, you’re super rad

In which the reader and Laurens are roommates and very good friends. Jealousy and smut ensues.

Words: 4,573

Warnings: NSFW! SMUT SMUT SMUT and LOTS OF SWEARING (don’t read if this will make you uncomfortable)

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Just a local secret for all you Artemis Fowl fans out there

I used to live near Eoin Colfer in Wexford as a teenager. I always hoped I’d bump into him but alas it wasn’t meant to be, but as I lived there I discovered something.

On a corner of the Main Street there is an optician’s called Foley Opticians, and down the road there is a newsagents with the name Butler’s written on it, obviously the last name of the family operating it. As I was noting these things I suddenly realised…

Eoin, you lazy sod, you just walked up and down the Wexford main road looking at shop signs and saying, “Yep, that’s my new character’s name.”

for you pt. 7 [m]

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Genre: Badboy!Taehyung, angst

Word Count: 5.3k

Originally posted by vminv

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Final

Six Months Later

You walked down the hallway of the academic building slowly, the weight of the paper in your bag causing you to drag your feet. Each footstep bringing more and more uncertainty about the next chapter of your life. You noticed that the door to your professor’s office was locked, and a small sigh of relief escaped your lips.

You didn’t want to have to explain to him how all your interviews had turned to dead ends. You didn’t want to have to explain how you were still going to be stuck in this town. Stuck in the memories of the past year when all you wanted to do was move forward. There was nothing that you wanted more than leaving. If he could leave, so could you. But instead you had gotten hired at the coffee shop in which you first met him. Left to repeat the same memories over and over again.

And as you left the building for the last time, you didn’t feel any different. The emptiness that had filled your chest the day he left was still there. You held your phone up to your ear, the familiar number having been dialed like clockwork. “We are sorry, but the number you are trying to reach is no longer in service.” seared through your ears after the first dial tone.

You kicked at a rock while waiting to cross the street. There was no reason for you to continue to call that number. But there was still a large part of you that hoped he would come back. That when you called his voice would saying hello on the other end. But no one had heard from him. Not you. Not the boys. It was like he had erased himself from your universe.

Taehyung crept into your mind during your most vulnerable moments. Like when the sun hit your skin in the middle of the afternoon, reminding you of the hours you would spend sitting next to him in the front seat of his car. Driving the two of you around while blasting old music and singing along so out of tune that everyone else would stare at you from their cars.

You missed him when you couldn’t get a jar open, not because he was strong enough to open them. But because you would hunch over in fits of laughter as you watched him turn red in the face while trying to open it. He wasn’t much of a muscle pig, but you thought his effort was the cutest.

He was in the worn out t-shirt hidden in the back of your closet. A piece of clothing you didn’t know you had until your nose caught the smell of his cologne the first time Mina came over to your apartment to do your laundry since you hadn’t left your bed in weeks. You had her put it down, worried that if she held it for too long you would forget what he smelled like when he held you.

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Your bad driving caused you to not get hired.

(warning: long story)

Background: I work for a construction company that has many divisions but I work in the new construction section. I’ve been working at this company for about 5 years but actually worked along with my Dad who had 30+ years at the same company. Because of his long tenure in not only the field but with the company I got a lot of inside perks. I created a lot of very beneficial professional relationships through him. My dad recently became very sick (suffering from liver and throat cancer stage 4) and had to stop coming to work. My Dad and I were the only office guys in the department, so once he stepped away I became number 1 guy in the department, making all the decisions. This detail will come into play later.

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Straight White Boy Problem #997

bro…..maybe we should like expand our perspectives….no im not talking about getting high! fuck that dude…im talking about traveling the world, meeting new people, doing something new, being open to new ideas! We aren’t getting that in the suburbs dude. The only place with culture is the Whole Foods down the street….and that Mexican restaurant in that shopping plaza next to the Target. But bro…bro…listen to me…we should…no I’m NOT going to listen to the new Barstool podcast Jimmy fuck let me finish!! We should be open to new things…like dude I watched soccer for the FIRST TIME last year and now i really really like it! lol maybe I’ll start wearing more vineyard vines than polo..? we just got to be open to new ideas bro!!


I’ve been seeing the same POT for a month now. Yesterday was our fourth meet and I was going to mentally declare him an SD from now on. You’d better believe that was C A N C E L L E D.

After spending two hours getting ready, I drove another two hours in the snow in Toronto traffic to meet this man at a restaurant for our date. I got there, grabbed a table and sat down when he texted me saying he fell asleep and to order for him because he would be there soon. This really pissed me off because the last time we met up he was an hour late, and the time before that he was off by 20 minutes. Now, I had already spent money and time driving to the restaurant so my ass was NOT about to turn around and leave. No, I knew he would come, even if it took 2 hours. And it did. Straight up, two hours.

Luckily my boyfriend came and saved the day by covering my tab and letting me use his laptop to charge my phone in the restaurant. He stayed with me until this man arrived.

I walked out to his car, smiling and pretending everything was okay, because my ass already had a plan.

There was no way I’d be fucking and sucking this dude tonight. No way in hell! Had it been a vanilla man I would’ve already blocked his number and forgot his name but I was going to suck this man dry of every hour of my time that he wasted.

I turned to him, smiling and said, “babe, do you want to go to the mall?”

You’d better believe his ass took me to the Eaton Center, scrambling to make up for tonight. I had him withdraw $2,000 cash and buy me $400 worth of Steve Madden and Aritzia gear. Then, before it was time to leave, “I have to go to the bathroom,” I said, “I’ll meet you outside once you grab the car from the parking garage.”

And what the fuck did I do? I grabbed an Uber and hauled my ass back home. If anyone saw a young woman running down the street in Louboutins and an arm full of shopping bags last night, that was me.

After two hours of texting him and pretending I couldn’t find him outside, he got the hint.

Just in case you’re wishing there was more Downton Abbey

I’ve got a few recommendations:

The Bletchley Circle: A group of former WWII code breakers take a series of unsolved crimes into their own hands, seeing as how no one will listen to them. Just being women and all.

Call the Midwife: How many different words for “amazing” can I use before they start to lose meaning? I love this show SO much! The characters are so engaging and this snapshot into 1950s-60s Poplar life is endearing, heart-breaking, and eye-opening.

Also, definitely read Jenny Worth’s memoirs on which the series is based, titled either The Midwife or Call the Midwife (after the TV tie-in).

Home Fires: Series two is airing now in the US and it is a lovely series with the same dosages of scandal, small-town life, classism, and fabulous costuming as Downton Abbey, only in the 1940s.

The Crown: A truly great Netflix original about the young Queen Elizabeth II which offers a fascinating insight into her young life.

Pan Am: Oh, Pan Am! What a fabulous show! Beautiful costuming and soundtrack, as well as a pretty good plotline. But beware of watching on-demand - ABC aired the series out of order because they thought that would be a good idea for some reason. The story-line straightens out about half-way through,and by that time you will probably be hooked.

Rebellion: Haven’t watched it yet, but it seems promising. From Netflix, “As World War I rages, three women and their families in Dublin choose sides in the violent Easter Rising revolt against British rule.

Victoria: Jenna Coleman is an absolute vision as young Queen Victoria. The first season shows Victoria’s ascent to the throne, her young love with her advisor, Lord Melbourne, and then eventually her husband, Prince Albert, as well as the mine-field of intrigue and ulterior motives from her family and household. Spectacular!

The Paradise: Not as great as some of the others, but still a pretty entertaining look into the birth of the “one-stop-shop” in Edwardian England.

Mercy Street: I think this show is pretty amazing, although it is not for the squeamish (like my husband) who gag at the slightest sight of a putrefied wound. As a southerner - a Virginian, no less - what I love about this show is that it shows that there are good and bad people on both sides of a decidedly horrible issue, meaning not all Southerners are evil bigots, and not all Yankees are heroes in blue. Still true today, keep that in mind. Rant over - watch the show.

And last, but not least,

Vikings: A delicious mix of The Tudors and Game of Thrones. Quite a bit more violent and vulgar than Downton Abbey, but I still can’t help myself from recommending it to anyone who will listen. I find myself rooting for people who, if I met them in real life, would make me run for cover. Prepare to spend several hours at work looking up awesome braided hairstyles on Pinterest!

All that being said, I would also love to hear some others’ recommendations for fabulous period dramas. Can’t stop, won’t stop!

Thin Walls (Jaehyun x Reader)

Rating: M, as hell

(A/N) Hey! Long time no see! It’s been a minute since I last posted something or filled a request, and the guilt of not doing so was slowly eating away at me lol I managed to throw this one together after forever and it took so long because I was struggling hard core on the actual smut. It’s just so difficult trying not to repeat a scene I’ve done previously in the exact same way, etc. But finals are coming up, and I’ll be trying my darndest to chip away at these requests as best as I can! Hope you all enjoy this one!!!

Originally posted by oh-prankster

Moving to one of the biggest cities, you had your hopes high, but not too high. You knew it wasn’t a perfect place, with perfect people who had perfect lives and perfect apartments. There were the dumpster divers, the druggies in the alleyways, and the snobs that flaunted their glittery 24 caret plumage on their wrists and necks, suffocating themselves with mink coats and expensive cigarettes. But you were determined to ignore all of it, the people who mattered were like you; starving, but alive, living their big dreams regardless of the struggle. You clung to those people, the places they frequented, and learned to love and appreciate the side of this city that was your new home. You were stable and free now, able to pursue the things you enjoyed and make a living to support yourself. 

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Read ‘Em and Weep | Yoongi

| Fluff | Slight Angst |  

word count: 7k

You had never meant to daydream over the boy who sat at the back corner of the dusty bookstore you worked at, but he made it impossible not to. Not with his soft looks, and confused blinking like he was constantly snapping himself back to reality, or the way he walked around like a lost kitten and made every part of you want to curl into him and cuddle.

He was here again.

You bit your lip in quiet anticipation, feeling the butterflies in your tummy bubble over until you felt like you might actually explode. He came in every Thursday night between 6:30 and 8:00 and usually strayed towards the non-fiction and classic works sections in the store. You noticed from his check outs he liked poetry, but he rarely ever visited any new authors, he stuck to classics, but they all had the same depressing theme to them. If you had to see one more Poe, Plath or Bukowski check out you would consider referring him to your therapist, who, as nice as she was, you couldn’t exactly vouch for her turn over rate if you were basing it off yourself.

But then again, you figured there would be some underlying depression or aspects to it, that came with being deaf. Not that you knew much about it. You had an auntie, twice removed who was deaf, but you couldn’t exactly say you knew much of anything about her, or that she gave you even the slightest inclination about the mysterious boy who frequented your bookstore.

There was something different about this boy though. He had been coming into Whitman’s (the small bookstore you worked at) for going on six months now, which was a surprise in itself considering who actually read physical books now a days, other than yourself and a few stubborn stragglers muttering to themselves about the takeover of technology and ‘these darn kids not knowing how to appreciate real art.’ But he had stayed true, not saying much, usually picking up a few books here and there and keeping to himself, you figured he was like you and just appreciated the smell and feel of holding books rather than trying to read them on a tablet and you could dig that about him.

It also didn’t hurt that he was easy on the eyes. He had soft features, and really sleepy eyes that kind of kept you enraptured, a weird part of you thought that it matched his choice in literature. He didn’t really stray from any other colors than black, as far as wardrobe was concerned and seemed to nurse a favor for a black hoodie that looked soft and smelled like fabric softener, the kind that made you want to fall asleep in. Looking at him reminded you of rainy days with cold rooms and warm blankets, and part of you found yourself envisioning it with him.

That was your first mistake.

You had never meant to daydream over the boy who sat at the back corner of the dusty bookstore you worked at, but he made it impossible not to. Not with his soft looks, and confused blinking like he was constantly snapping himself back to reality, or the way he walked around like a lost kitten and made every part of you want to curl into him and cuddle.

For lack of anything better to call him you had dubbed him Hoodie.

You weren’t really sure how you could have a crush on someone when you didn’t even know what their voice sounded like, or well, even their first name. But alas, here you were, alive and in the blooming stages of a crush. Your heart never failed to palpitate whenever Hoodie was ready for check out, your hands a quivering, clammy mess, receiving his payment, hoping he didn’t accidentally swipe against you for fear of finding the evidence of his affect on you.

It wasn’t until three months of him frequenting the store that you had worked up the courage to actually start a conversation with him, and it had failed miserably. He hadn’t made eye contact with you once, something he never did, so that wasn’t an actual surprise, but you were only thankful no one was around when you had began asking him friendly questions about his taste, only for your questions to fall flat on the floor.

You never spoke to him again after that.

It wasn’t until somewhere around month four that you had realized he was deaf, and made yourself feel like the worlds biggest jackass for cursing the adorable boy in the black hoodie who came in to rent poetry from your store. The bookstore was fairly small, with an equally small following of elderly people and some middle aged hippies who all knew each other fondly so it wasn’t long before other patrons had began to pick up on a fellow book geek joining their ranks.

They too had tried to start small conversations with him, only for him to flat out ignore them, something that had at first annoyed them to no bounds but later sparked curiosity in your small community.

“He’s just such an ass. He always comes in, doesn’t even bother to stop in and say hi to the book club. Like we’re not asking you to join dude, just a little wave and maybe eat one of Ms. Park’s cookies so she doesn’t look so crestfallen every time you walk through the door in that stupid black hoodie like some pubescent teen.”

You were only half listening to Umji’s rants, more focused on the book in front of you as you fidgeted with your fingers. You couldn’t focus. Not like this anyway, with Umji speaking directly into one ear and the book club asking for constant refreshments like you were running a restaurant, in the other.

You let out a sigh, glancing down at your watch for the umpteenth time before settling your gaze back on Umji who was still rattling off a list of complaints about the mysterious boy who refused to speak to anyone.

He was late today. It was already 8:30, and the bookstore would be closing in another thirty minutes, extending its hours for the midweek book club, something you didn’t mind if it meant seeing Hoodie for even a few extra minutes. Only, you were thinking he wasn’t going to show up today, at least not in this weather. It was raining cats and dogs outside, and while you usually loved cold and the pitter patter of rain on your window, you knew Hoodie took the bus and was most likely going to be absent tonight if it meant avoiding the viscous downpour outside.

You had already resigned yourself to the thought that for the first time in the six months he had started frequenting the store, Hoodie wouldn’t be making his usual Thursday appearance, something that left a rather shocking disappointment resonating in your chest. So when you were already bidding all the usuals a goodbye, ten minutes til closing, preparing to lock up after the final person had left the near silent bookstore, color you shocked when an all black figure slid on the pavement in front of the store, clothes dripping wet and hood pushed further down then usual. One pale and shivering hand clutched over yours on the door, stopping you from closing it.

“Jesus.” You muttered, letting your figure slump with a racking relief when you realized it was him. Just Hoodie.

He raised his eyes to yours, in silent question and you realized it was the first time you had ever made real eye contact with him. His eyes were just as sleepy as you remember, dark chocolate pools, that looked somehow more full of life than you had anticipated. His skin looked even paler in the moonlight, with tiny droplets of water clinging to the flesh, his lips quivering from the cold and nearing a dark purple color. You were snapped out of your daze by the shudder that racked his body, remembering that he must be freezing half to death while you openly ogled him.

“Come in, come in. I’m sorry. You must be so cold.” You muttered, more to yourself than him.

You hadn’t really been expecting an answer, but he bowed to you nonetheless and had scattered away from your inquisitive gaze, leaving you pinned to your spot. With a sigh, you returned to your post at your register to wait for him to finish looking his fill, hoping he didn’t feel to pressured by being the last patron.

Hoodie, despite his overall introverted tendencies was a really polite person, something you had noted somewhere down the six months of openly watching him. Though he never spoke, something you had concluded was due to his lack of hearing, he never failed to open doors for people, help kids reach books on shelves that were too tall for them, and you had even spotted him carrying boxes for one of the older shop owners down the street. So yes, Hoodie was a mute, deaf, introvert, with depressed taste in literature but none of that had managed to dull your infatuation with him over the course of six months. If anything, being able to do nothing but watch him over time had somehow made things worst.

You subconsciously rubbed the ache in your chest just thinking about it.

It was just like how when you have one of your senses cut off, all of the other ones heighten to make up for the loss. Yeah… that’s what it was like when you watched him.

You liked the way he would sometimes get annoyed with one of the buttons on his shirt, you had watched him struggle for a few minutes, his face scrunched in concentration, before letting out an annoyed huff and glaring at the stupid button. You had to put a hand up to your mouth to muffle your giggle that day.

You even liked the way he sometimes nodded off sitting up straight, a slight trail of saliva dripping down his chin before his head would tip forward breaking him from his light slumber.

You sighed to yourself. You liked a lot of things about Hoodie.

You glanced at the stack of books you had placed on your small workspace earlier this afternoon, worrying your lip between your teeth as you continued with the inner debate you had been having with yourself since this morning.

Your thoughts were broken by the light thud of books being placed on the counter. You felt your heart speed up when the familiar figure stood before your check out, twiddling his thumbs. A sigh left you, for the umpteenth time that night, knowing he must have rushed through browsing, as he usually takes going on thirty minutes or longer.

You cashed him out just like you regularly would, and he didn’t speak to you just like he regularly would, it was all the makings of a boring exchange between you and the mysteriously exasperating Hoodie, a man you had come to desire in a short six months. Whether it was a desire to know him better or a desire for just him period you didn’t know yet, but you wanted to find out and it was a plunge you were willing to take.

So after six months and thirty days, you the quiet clerk at the boring and uneventful bookstore who led an equally boring and uneventful life, had snaked one small, shaking palm up the counter to place it a top the hand of the man you had been pining after for half a year.

Hoodie froze at the contact, staring at your hand, his grip on the plastic bag tightening before he finally forced his eyes up to meet your gaze.

You forced the lump in your throat down before licking your lips and pushing through what had to be easily one of the most nerve wracking moments of your entire twenty years of existing.

I… got.. these books for you. They’re poetry. I think you’d like them.

Your hand shook with every letter you signed and you cursed yourself and the countless nights you had spent poring over the stupid sign language book you had pulled out from the back. There was a pregnant pause from the moment you finished to the moment he cocked his head at you, eyes following your movements curiously. It wasn’t until a second later you realized you weren’t holding the books. You scrambled back behind the counter to pull them out and hand the stack to him.

Your hands were steadier this time when you signed, “Have you heard of Warsan Shir-

“I’m sorry, I can’t understand sign language.”

There was a brief moment of silence, where you could hear the slight crack of your chest cavity breaking open so you could maybe shrivel up and shrink into yourself, you didn’t know. What you did know was that Hoodie had pulled back his hood to reveal a soft silvery mane and tugged two black earphones out from his ear. His voice a soft gravel as if he hadn’t used it as often as he’d like.

He watched you, partly bemused as your face turned a color he had never seen before, your eyes growing to the size of saucers, it was almost endearing to him.

“Oh!” You exclaimed, dropping the books without another thought.

There wasn’t much to do except stare at him at this point. He wasn’t deaf? Could he just not hear you over his music? Who tucks the chord into their clothes anymore?! It’s not like you were in high school!

God, you were so embarrassed. You were so busy, mentally berating yourself at how much of a jackass you looked like in front of the guy you had been virtually pining over for the past half year you almost completely forgot he was there until..


You squeaked.

“You know my name?” You choked.

“I’ve been coming here since June.” He muttered, rubbing the back of his neck a little awkwardly, “Is there something you wanted to tell me?”

You flushed an even brighter shade of red than before, “I’m so sorry! I thought you were deaf because you never respond to
me when I talk to you and the other book club members thought you were a jerk but that couldn’t be because I watch you and you seemed like a really sweet guy and I see you help kids get like the chicka chicka boom boom books off the top shelf and I even lowered the book shelf after that by the way but I told them no you couldn’t be because you seemed really nice and you have really kind eyes. So the next plausible jump was deaf so I thought maybe like I don’t know I learned sign language because I wanted to give you these books because you always read really sad authors like Poe and Plath and I don’t even know you’re name and I’m sorry but we’re closing so take your books and go!

You watched Hoodie’s eyes widen and blink with every knew addition to your story and every time was like another stab to the chest, you could only take so much embarrassment in one night. The confession came tumbling out without your knowledge and before you knew it you were spinning him on his heel and trying to physically push him out of the shop so you could maybe go home and make yourself tea and cry with your cat.


You bit your lip, still unable to meet his eyes as you fiddled with your fingers, the residual embarrassment of tonight burning hot on your cheeks, tears threatening to spill over any minute now.

“Um.. my names Yoongi.”


You repeated it over and over again in your head until you felt it branded there. It was a pretty name, soft and sweet. You wanted to say it out loud, you wanted to scream it from every rooftop and tell every person in passing that you knew the name of the man you loved. A luxury that has escaped you for going on half a year.

For the first time in sixth months, the roles were reversed and you were the one avoiding his gaze, the creaky floorboards of the store suddenly more fascinating than the boy in front of you. His head dipped down so he could meet your eyes and you gulped.

“I-I wish you would look at me.” He murmured. “But it’s okay if you can’t. You don’t have to. I know what that’s like. I… I think.. I think you’re really nice.”

A gasp left your lips but before you could do much of anything he bulldozed on, eyes blinking rapidly as if he was forcing the words out tooth and nail.

“I have really bad.. social anxiety.” He deflated, “it’s lame, I know. So I understand if it’s hard right now to look at me. But… I know you’re crying and I-I’m sorry if I hurt your feelings by not talking to you. Sometimes it’s easier to listen to music and I like this book store because it’s really calming. I work a few streets over and sometimes it can get.. overwhelming on the bus rides home because of the crowds.. and the people.. s-so being here feels really nice and helps before I have to go home.”

Yoongi was the one looking down now, and he looked so small suddenly, so vulnerable, in his dripping wet clothes and his eyes that were so big and sad and out of focus. He fidgeted under your stare and you opened and closed your mouth trying to find the right words for his admission.

“I like you. A-and I like that you watch me. Thank you for noticing me,” he said quietly, “and thank you for these books. I-I’ve never heard of Warsan S-Shire but..”

At this point it looked like it was physically painful for him to maintain the conversation, with his occasional wincing at the sound of his own voice, he seemed.. out of practice and cute. You smiled gently, “It’s okay!”

He jumped at your voice, suddenly booming in the quiet bookstore.

“I like you too.” You added softly, “but it’s okay if you don’t feel comfortable talking to me. I’m sorry I forced you to and I’m sorry I kept pushing. If it makes you uncomfortable when the other members come in I have a back room that I’m supposed to use as an office but I don’t really, I-I mean you don’t have to. No pressure, I don’t want you to like think I’m trying to force you into anything. I just want you to keep coming back. Ignore me if you have to. But don’t stop coming, okay?”

Yoongi stared at you, and for a long minute you spent time trying to decipher what the look on his face meant, but no matter how hard you tried to get a read on him every attempt failed.

Later that night you would go home and lay in bed thinking about Yoongi, the things he said, and that look he gave you before nodding and leaving your store.

What did it all mean? Would you see him again? Would he avoid you after that?

Thoughts plagued your already fatigued mind into a restless sleep, filled with nothing but Yoongi’s parting stare.

On his walk home he thought of you, the clerk at the bookstore who he noticed sending him timid stare more than a few times over. He hadn’t paid it much attention, writing it off as plain curiosity. People were always curious of Yoongi at first, that is, until they found out about his… condition.

It was part of the reason he didn’t allow himself to get close to people anymore. Having far too much experience with people getting fed up with his timid behavior. It usually took only a few months. His skittish and shy nature was always endearing at first until people realized he couldn’t do much of anything. He hated large crowds and social gatherings, he didn’t like loud or rambunctious people, it seemed like the quieter he got the more it attracted people to him and he… loathed it.

Hated that he could barely make direct eye contact with waiters, or speak above a whisper, or the fact that he had to listen to music and stop by a bookstore to calm himself down before enduring the hour commute on crowded public transport.

It left him feeling lacking, as both a man and a person.

But he has adjusted accordingly, acclimated to the self loathing and depression, turned to reading and writing poetry as an outlet for all the things he repressed over the years.

That was … until … you.

You had shaken his world up.

It’s not like in his twenty four years of living he’s never had a girl talk to him before, he wasn’t inept, he knew if anything, he was at least conventionally attractive.

But they’ve never been so.. direct before.

He had already been having a shitty night. He worked in an office, one of those white walled, cubicle filled spaces infested with pencil pushing nerds like himself. He didn’t hate it. He was an okay worker, kept his head down, never made a fuss, never called in sick or caused problems and always got his work done on time. He preferred not to make waves because making waves meant confrontation and confrontation meant talking to people.

However, the downside of not talking also meant he barely ever refused when people asked him to take on their extra work for him, so he usually stayed overtime. By some fucking luck of fate, one of the accountants in another department had heard from the guy in HR, that there was a quiet pushover in statistics that would do your work for you without so much as a peep. Except instead of directly asking, the fucking numb nut had left a stack of papers and a note on top of the mountain of other work on his desk, failing to emphasize the due date was, you guessed it, today.

The puck, having been passed over to Yoongi, naturally meant he ate shit for it. Which he, honestly didn’t care about. He just hated the fact that he had to stare at his boss’ blotchy red face as he awaited an explanation, a vein that Yoongi was 500% sure was not supposed to be there, pulsating from his forehead.

So getting chewed out, having to talk to more than his usual company of zero had been, ultimately draining and ontop of it, it was pouring. Yoongi rubbed a hand over his aching chest, already feeling the weight build as the familiar tendrils of anxiety gripped him.

“Well that’s a late response,” he muttered to no one but himself.

And that was how he ended up with you in the lone bookstore, already five minutes past closing, drenched to the bone with you making your tearful but sweet confession.

Yoongi was so consumed in his own thoughts on the bus ride home he nearly missed his stop, a first for him, to not be hyperaware of the troves of people caving in on him and his precious personal space.

Everything about you tonight had been weird for him, different. Yoongi didn’t do different. Different meant veering from his strict and concise routine, and no routine .. that usually meant running into unexpected issues or surprises, which Yoongi also didn’t do.

But in your case, he decided he would make an exception.

He smiled fondly at the way your eyes had lowered to the floor, heat flooding your cheeks until he was sure you might pass out from all the blood rushing to your head. Is this what drew people in to his skittish behavior? He had never seen the appeal, the attraction to being awkward, but on you.. it was cute.

And God, you thought he was deaf.

He laughed at that, something he also hadn’t done in a while. He coughed to cover up the rusty noise, glancing over his shoulder to see if any onlookers had noticed his weird, almost manic behavior.

You thought he was deaf and you learned sign language for him. That was the cutest thing anyone had done. He hadn’t considered himself someone worth learning sign language for, especially someone as pretty as you learning it for him.

He bit his lip at the thought.

Min Yoongi always thought he would be able to see it coming. From all the movies and books he had read he thought that everyone should be able to sense their own climax, their coming of age. It wasn’t something that was muted, it had to have built up over time. Someone like him, especially who lived such a quiet life, should be able to sense such an event. But this wasn’t a film or a book and there was no foreshadowing, no hinting that you, the clerk at his favorite bookstore would present his quest to him, his climax, his own coming of age. Min Yoongi was the author and protagonist and every decision he made effected his ending.

The weeks that followed left on you edge, for the first time since meeting him six months ago, Yoongi had skipped not only one but two Thursday’s at the book store.

You had chased him off.

You had to have. There was no other reason he could have been avoiding you. After learning about his condition, and being unable to sleep the last night he had come into the bookstore you had spent time looking up social anxiety. You had known it in passing, a vocab word in one of your psych classes a few years ago maybe but never really took the time to read up on symptoms.

You wanted to die, that was the only way redeem yourself from this godawful situation you had put both him and yourself him.

There were the usual textbook definitions of “fear of social situations, fear of being evaluated negatively by other people, fear of interaction with other people.”

But you hadn’t understood just how in depth it went, it was truly… crippling and part of you softened even more towards him.

“God, can the heavens just open up and take me?” You glanced up at the ceiling once, groaning out your frustration at how truly embarrassing a human being you were.

How could so much embarrassing be crammed into someone as little as you? It wasn’t fair! Didn’t God believe in even distribution, wasn’t there-

Someone cleared their throat.

It was nearly three o'clock in the afternoon on a weekday, a relatively dead hour at the bookstore, so you had been openly yelling and complaining to yourself not even stopping to think that maybe someone could be-

“Yoongi!” You squeaked.

He was fashioned in his usual black hoodie today, only the hood was down  and his earphones weren’t in. His eyes were still lowered to the ground, so you shifted your gaze to try and ease some of the pressure on his end, all while drowning in your own personal hot tub of shame, something you became painfully familiar with since encountering Yoongi personally.

You cleared your throat, “I-… are you ready?”

Yoongi’s eyes widened as he glanced back up at you. You could easily read that he had been expecting a confrontation, a talk about the things that had occurred two Thursday’s ago. Your weak confession, that was weirdly spoken more through actions than words, or maybe even his disappearance, and as much as the words were itching on your tongue, you forced them down. You had done enough of making him uncomfortable, and despite what he thought, you greatly appreciated his company, silent or otherwise. His presence was like a warm blanket and without it everything felt cold and bitter and sad, something you hadn’t realized until he had stopped showing up.

Yoongi paid his bill as usual, and thanks to you he felt little to no discomfort as you didn’t press and barely even looked at him. It gave him a better opportunity to study you, a nearly impossible feat under normal circumstances, when he kept his eyes glued to floorboards and blank walls. His gaze skimmed over your small frame, hunched over to better see the credit card machine, grumbling something about calling the guy to get it fixed once and for all. A soft smile tugged at his lips. You were so cute to him, in your little overalls that were just baggy enough to compliment your petite frame. Your hair was piled ontop of your head in a messy bun, something he knew was done absentmindedly rather than intentionally, a pencil shoved behind your ear like you were a second grade school teacher. Your cheeks, slightly wind burned, were puffed out in concentration, adding a cherubic innocence to your features while your converse scuffed at the floor unconsciously.

“You know what,” you huffed finally, scratching your head, “it’s on me today. I can’t figure out what’s wrong with this stupid machine and I… Yoongi?”

He was startled out of his daze, realizing he had been caught staring. Before you could say anything else he gulped and placed the plastic bag he forgot he was gripping on the counter with a soft thud.

You opened your mouth to ask what it was but before you could get so much as a peep out, he was bowing slightly and pushing his way out of the store, without even a second glance. You sighed and resigned yourself to the fact that you probably would never talk to him again, but at least he wouldn’t stop coming in. That was enough for you, you thought warmly, a small smile tugging at your cheeks.

You fingered the black plastic bag curiously, wondering if he may be returning the poetry you had given him a few weeks ago, not that you would put it past him. He was too polite for his own good, only… those were a gift, your way of adding light into what you knew had to be a lonely existence. You didn’t want to force him to talk to you or even like you, you didn’t even want to force your help on him if he didn’t want it but… you wanted him to smile and laugh and maybe look at you as warmly as he did that gloriously horrendous Thursday night.

You sighed for the millionth time that day, moving to place the bag on your small workspace so you wouldn’t forget it before you left, only you stumbled over one of the loose wires in the credit card machine you forgot to replace, dropping the bag and its contents on the floor.

A white envelope slipped out, a long with three books that you most definitely hadn’t lent to Yoongi all those weeks ago. Curiously you bent to pick it up.

A shaky breath left your lips as you smoothed over the creamy paper, half scared to open it, scared to read it, like a novel that was too well written that you never wanted to end. You mulled over leaving it for later and prolonging the gratification, but like all things in life, good literature included, a letter from Yoongi was not something you could force yourself to delay.

You tore through the envelope almost ravenously, partially aware that you were acting like a psychopath, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, at least not now.


Thank you for the poetry you lent me. It’s been two weeks since I managed to work up the nerve to come back, and even then I don’t know if this letter will find its way to your hands. I’m a weak person, that’s something I’ve known for a long time. This is all I could manage in terms of contact, as I am still… off put at the thought of talking to people. Not that talking to you is horrible! You’re a really great person!

You chuckled at that, almost able to hear his nervous stammer through pen.

I think it’s really cool that you learned sign language for me and I never thought I was someone worth learning sign language for. I read the books you gave me and they made me feel things. Things I haven’t felt in a while. The thing with depression and anxiety and not being able to talk is after years you just kind of accept it. I’ve accepted and acclimated to the numbness and maybe this is too deep and too profound a conversation to be having with someone I’ve talked to for the first time two weeks ago but I need to express this in the only way I know how. Through books. So I hope you read these books and think of me.

~Min Yoongi


“You want me to be your tragic back drop so you can appear to be illuminated, so that people can say, ‘wow, he is so terribly brave to love a girl who is so obviously sad?’
You think I’ll be the dark sky so you can
be the star?
I’ll swallow you whole.”


(I’ve learned that being angry when you are sad is bravery in itself. I wish.. I could emulate this bravery)

As your hands shook over the indents of his pressed writing, you hadn’t realized at the time that this was yours, as was his turning point.

A new form of communication marked through books and letters, stolen glances, and muted sighs in passing was the best he could give you for the next four weeks.

You realized much later down the line that he had a dry wit to him, something you had uncannily suspected, even without speaking much he seemed the type to possess it. He also liked more than morbid poetry, thank God. You had clued him in to your therapist, nearly a week after exchanging book and song recommendations, he declined politely, insisting that he had his own. You snorted at that.

Yoongi was so much more charming than you had anticipated and you had found yourself falling deeper and deeper into infatuation with every piece of himself he revealed to you through letters. You began pressing flowers and including them in yours, you told him it was because you couldn’t look at a single book without slipping into thoughts of him, you wanted him to look at mundane things and think of you too.

He told you he didn’t even look at his house keys without thoughts of you intruding.

Your courtship was anything but normal, you knew. It made you wonder if you would ever do more than glance up from you work table every now and then to catch him smiling shyly at you, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if it took weeks, months, or even years for him to talk to you just so long as he stayed with you.

Which is exactly what you told him when he gave you his number during the fifth week of exchanging letters.

Yoongs [3:45AM]: Did you read it yet?

You smiled fondly at your phone screen, swiping right to reply to the foolish boy who apparently didn’t need to sleep more than four hours, since you knew he had to be up for work soon.

You [3:46AM]: Go to sleep, Min Yoongi.

Yoongs [3:47AM]: *gasp* and miss our weekly book club? I shan’t!

You rolled your eyes at that. Yoongi insisted you had weekly “book club” meetings via text to makeup for all the times he had avoided the regulars at Whitman’s, only he never had a set time or date and he usually texted you at the ass crack of dawn when he couldn’t sleep. Not like you minded though. You could be getting stabbed and would still reply “lol nothing” to Yoongi’s “wyd” text.

You [3:50AM]: Of all the amazing and stumping literature you’ve recommended to me, I admit there were times where I questioned ur mental stability, I’m not dropping names (metamorphosis by Herman Hesse) ……. and alas Min Yoongi I soldiered through the weird cockroach book and more of the like but yet here I am at four o'clock in the morning, once a again questioning the state of your mental capacity as I sit reading YOLO Juliet (OMG Shakespeare) why Yoongi??? Why?????

Yoongs [3:53AM]: if I had to see it so did u, brat

Yoongi bit back a grin as he lay in bed, feeling a lot happier and more content than he had in years. He pressed the home button on his phone and watched it light up under his touch, your face taking up the screen and blooming into a grin.

He wouldn’t call what you two were doing dating, exactly. It wasn’t much for most people, but for Yoongi it was… a lot more than he was used to. You were… overwhelming to him, a tidal wave of new emotions, a sensory overload, a storyboard of new perceptions and outlooks on things he hadn’t ever cared about before and for once, Min Yoongi wasn’t shying away from any of those things.

He was far from extroverted, he hadn’t changed over night or grown bolder in touch or talk, but the thing was that you hadn’t wanted him to, hadn’t ever asked him for more than he was willing to give. You were overjoyed when he shared new pieces of himself with you, he felt a part of him reborn with every smile that lit your face like you had uncovered hidden treasure when he gave you another letter. You treated his letters like they were more precious than any book written by even your favorite author, had pored over his every word like they were holy and apart of him was scared. Scared of being admired on that level, scared of letting you down, but there was an even greater part of him than had grown attached to you.

You had him wrapped around your little finger and you didn’t even know it. You could ask him to go streaking in the busiest part of town tomorrow and he would do it without a second thought if it meant that you would keep talking to him, keep… whatever this was, that you had with him going.

He hadn’t know when or even how he had managed to fall in love with you, but somewhere in between stolen glances and lingering touches of your hand on his when exchanging books, his heart had grown fond of yours and refused to cooperate with any sensible thought his brain tried to force on it.

His morbid thoughts were interrupted by the familiar buzz of his phone and he jumped to a sitting position, gulping thickly as he stared at your contact name. Only this time it wasn’t a text.

In the months of exchanging letters, literature, music, texts, you still hadn’t talked to Yoongi since that Thursday you had surprised him with your confession, never mind actually phoning him to chat. But tonight felt right. Your heart felt full, and your tongue felt thick, your throat was clogged with words that had been wanting to pour out of you since that night all those months ago, all he had to do was-


There was silence on his end, but you had anticipated it, you hoped he could hear your smile as you spoke.

“You don’t have to talk. I’m just calling to say goodnight. I hope you go to sleep soon since you have a meeting tomorrow with your awful boss tomorrow,” You paused to worry your lip, on the other end Yoongi’s heart stuttered at your remembrance of a little detail he had muttered in passing, “… And also, to say.. that.. I l-love you, Yoongi.”

You didn’t miss the barely muted choked noises coming from the other line, you only hoped he was okay as you pushed on.

“Not as a friend,” you began, fighting off tears that you didn’t fully understand, “I’m in love with you and I think you know that. I think you knew since I first signed you all those Thursday’s ago and you don’t have to say it back that’s not why I told you. I just wanted you to know. I love that you send me stupid puns when I’m at work and you don’t care that I changed my major three times, I love that you sometimes move the books I need closer to your table when you think I’m not paying attention so I can walk by you when you’re reading, and I just really love your heart because… because anyone that can deal with what you deal with and still be as kind and gentle and good and pure as you deserves all the happiness in the world and..” you stuttered as another choked sob bubbled its way from your throat, “I’m sorry that you don’t have it. I don’t understand what you’re going through or what you go through but it hurts me when you hurt and I … I hate seeing you in pain but I imagine it’s tenfold for you. I don’t want you to change Yoongi.”

Your voice didn’t waver at that, it rang strong with the declaration of loving him for all he was.

Yoongi didn’t bother to bite back tears any longer, he let them roll freely with every confession you uttered.

I don’t need you to change. I love you for you and I don’t need you to go to every gathering and every function because I’m fine with being with just you and if love is sacrifice and compromise than I’ll make them all for you. We could buy a cottage in Alaska and I could cut off my family so you never have to talk to anyone again. And kids? … I mean, I actually want kids but you don’t have to talk to them either if you don’t want…” He chuckled at that and you smiled a watery smile on your end, “Just maybe slip a birthday card under their door every other year. But… I want to try and I know you’re scared and if you don’t want to then I won’t force you, I want your happiness, whatever that means to you and… yeah. Just yeah. That’s all. So sleep well, okay? I love you, Min Yoongi. And… I’ve decided to keep you.”

You were breathing heavy by the end of your declaration and it wasn’t long before Yoongi was met with the click of you hanging up on your end.

In his years of living there were a lot of decisions that were hard for him to make, magnified by a thousand because of his illnesses.

However… you were not one of them. You, the crazy, stupid, loveable clerk who had learned signed language all those months ago just to talk to him, who still tucked pressed flowers between his books when he wasn’t looking, and threw little paper airplanes at his table with heart doodles on them, were most definitely not one of them.

Yoongs [4:01AM]: I’ve decide to be kept.

smol Yoonjin Flower Shop AU sketch | Twitter | Please do not repost/use/crop/etc.


1. ways that you spend your days off

JIMIN: hobbies that I do are billiards, bowling and playing computer games all together at a house with friends. when we play, it’s different who wins, but it’s certain that I do the worst no matter what

SUGA: when it’s vacation time, I try to do things that people say are ordinary (to do). It’s important to me to go to a cafe alone or meet up with friends or just a casual every day routine. because it’s a vacation, I think it’s important to spend it relaxing, rather than planning to do something special

V: I listen to several types of music, regardless of genre… classic, jazz, opera, R&B, hip hop, EDM. right now my favourite is especially Hisaishi Joe’s ‘Summer’. dadadadan~(starts to sing) I want to listen to piano performance live one day

JIN: because Jungkook said that he’s going to learn the drums in his free time on the world tour, I started to play guitar too. but since he can’t carry the drum set around with him on tour, in the end it was just me who kept practicing from bringing the guitar (laughs) I play our songs like spring day and butterfly. one day I want to show it on stage

JHOPE: recently, my hobby is collecting figurines. nowadays, things that i’ve been collecting is called “deck of skate boards”. since there are a lot of colourful designs, it’s nice just looking that them. sadly there’s no way to ride them outside

RM: the thing that I’m consumes with right now is learning Japanese. I’m watching the drama “late night restaurants” as it’s easy to understand the dialogue. getting in touch with nature is one thing that is a way of changing the mood. I go for  a walk in a park that’s close by or if i have time I go far until I reach the sea.

JK: recently, I enjoy playing FPS games. I spend about 3~4 hours every day playing so time flies in that moment (laughs) and I always listen to music. I listen to exciting music like future bass but more than that I like melodies that make my mind become calm and the and the quietness of the quite sad atmosphere.

2. favourite fashion and things in fashion you always uphold

JIMIN: once I find a fashion that I think is good, I’ll buy clothes similar to that for several months. right now I like simple fashion, such as shirts with slacks and white shirts and denim (jeans?). since I haven’t decided what fashion to do this summer…. I think I should shop and and think carefully because once I start to buy things, I tend to buy a lot of it (laughs)

SUGA: rather than having a lot of different types of clothing, I rather have an attachment to things I like and use them for a long time. I think that after debut, I’ve worn thousands of clothing that are expensive that are my preference. since I want to be a person hat looks special even just wearing ordinary things, I choose to wear simple clothes. other than that, because I don’t like to show my skin, I wear long sleeves in the summer too

V: the item I wear most often is shirts. I have several shirts that go from simple to unusual print designs. I like the Boston bag too that I bought from New York in spring. I will use it carefully!

JIN: I like neat and simple fashion. when I go to places where a lot of people see me, I try to wear as many things that I received as gifts as possible. because I think if i were them, i’d feel really happy to see precious person wearing something that I gave to them

JHOPE: I try to do styles that express me well, that are not too easy going, and not too loud either. I plan to deliver a fashion that looks cool this summer. but I haven’t been shopping since I purchased a street brand fur jacket last winter…

RM: I pick clothes that are a good style whilst having a comfortable feeling. I didn’t have confidence in my style since I didnt dress well skinny but after debuting everyone told me that my legs are pretty and long, so I challenged it. the person out of the members that dresses well, if it’s not me (laughs), is JHOPE. he’s good at matching items.

JK: I like big shapes (silhouette) like parkas, and I like the colour black. I wear similar clothes in the summer too. the genre is different but I think that RM and JHOPE dress cool

3. favourite scents?

JIMIN: the scent of flowers and meat is cooking. because I like the smell of nature more, I don’t really wear perfumes well. I currently use the scent of a diffuser that’s refreshing. but J-HOPE who is my roommate, prefers scents like this more than me

SUGA: I like perfumes that have a sweet smell but I don’t use just one kind of perfume since I only wear it occasionally, depending on the mood of that day. I like to drink coffee, when I smell the scent of it my mind becomes relaxed. coffee is like a substitute for water to me.

V: in many cases I select a refreshing scent or a scent that I relax to. I use several types to match the mood or fashion

JIN: I use sweet perfumes that linger softly. if I were to give an example, the soft feeling is like the texture of candy floss. but the smell isn’t candy floss itself (laughs)

JHOPE: since i’m very sensitive to smells, it’s only natural that I spray perfume. before I got to bed, I use a diffuser all the time that’s in our room with the sweet smell of body lotion. from our vacation in hawaii in april, i bought kona coffee powder but i tried using it as quadrant substitute

RM: smell of natural fabric softener. and I spoke with jungkook, and the smell of Japan buildings (laughs) especially the airport. when we got here we all said together “we’ve arrived in Japan!”

JK: the smell of green or the wind when spring arrives. one day in spring, I listened to music and rode a bike down the river together with RM and V, so when the distinctive air of spring arrives I feel happy and excited because of that day

4. Japanese movies, dramas, manga etc that have stuck in your memory?

JIMIN: I have seen almost all well-known manga and anime. recently I bought the novel “between calmness and passion” at the bookstore. I look forward to reading it!

SUGA: The best manga throughout my life is slam dunk! I must’ve read it over a hundred times since I read my favourite ones repeatedly. when I was young, most of the things that I watched were Japanese anime

V: recently I’ve watched all of 'we married as a job’! I like the scene where the protagonist gives a hug to the other guy who she has a marriage contract with, on every Tuesday. I remember seeing the male actor in somewhere else, I was surprised to find out that he was Hoshino Gen, an artist that I listen to often on a average day. I love the song 'every day life’ the most. I’m also practicing the love dance from the ending of the drama

JIN: I like Japanese anime’s a lot so when I was a trainee I watched one piece or bleach every week. recently I’ve been obsessed with the manga about high school volleyball called haikyuu, so I read that often

JHOPE: I really like Otsaku Ai’s 'Sakuranbo’. I listen to YUI’s song often too.

RM: I listen yo AK-69 or KOHH, Sakamoto Ryuichi, Yuhki Kuramoto’s music. I like movies that are directed by Hirokazu Koreeda. I became captivated by his calm outlook on the world that he films. If his movies screen in korea, I will certainly go.

JK: I like Japanese anime’s, I’m currently watching the same one as Jin too, haikyuu. and it’s helping me learn Japanese too!

jpn - krn; @row_baba | krn - eng; @hobuing


Time for some Scotland photos! It was seriously difficult paring my photos down and picking just a handful to post (I took 1100 photos just in Scotland!), and I’m still going to have to break them up into two posts!

It was cold and wet pretty much the entire time we were there but we still got to do so many amazing things! Edinburgh is an incredibly gorgeous city; every street looks like something out of a fairy tale, particularly the idyllic Dean’s Village (last photo). It might sound strange, but coming from Texas, I was blown away by just how GREEN Scotland is. And there’s flowers everywhere. Lots of thistles particularly, including some the size of my friend’s head- no joke (second photo). We walked the Royal Mile, visited Holyrood Palace (the ruined abbey there is beautiful), Edinburgh Castle, The World’s End pub, Elephant House Cafe where JK Rowling wrote most of Harry Potter, and of course had to make a pitstop at the print shop, or its exterior at least. 

Next post: the Highlands!

{PART 11} I Won’t Stop You // Jeon Jungkook, Vampire!AU

Originally posted by jengkook

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: Vampire!AU, Fantasy, Angst, Smut

Summary; Jungkook opens up to you more about his family - while keeping your attention off the elephant in the room. However, the rosy feeling doesn’t last long when Jungkook drops you home to your apartment.

I update this series every Tuesday evening, 9pm-10pm (UK Time) 

{Part 1}// {Part 10} {Part 11} {Part 12}

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Scenes At Night/

I walk by this spot in town a few nights a week. I have photographed it before but last night was the first time I gave it anywhere near the amount of attention it deserves.

heartthrob (pt. 1)

Originally posted by bangtannoonas

genre: fluff, angst, fuckboy!hoseok au, college au. 

note: this is the longest thing i’ve ever written pls have mercy on me.

part 2 | drabbles

“Heads up!” I hear an all too familiar voice call. I looked towards the origin of the voice and was hardly surprised to see Jung Hoseok, backwards snapback and all, with a football in his hand ready to throw it bluntly at the male I was currently speaking to. I narrowed my eyes at him, disapproving his typical overbearing behaviour. Hoseok simply winked at me, letting the ball fly from his hand directly at the male in front of me.

My hands immediately push the male away from danger, ready to receive the throw from the impossible man that I called my best friend. I recalled the endless hours I had practiced with Hoseok when his “bros” had dates to go on while he remained loyal to his bachelor, unholy ways. A smile formed on my lips as the ball landed in the cradle formed by my hands. I looked forward to see Hoseok smirking, but not at me, at the man currently on the ground because of the force of my unexpected shove.

“Taehyung, are you okay?” I asked, immediately helping the young man to his feet. The timid dark-haired boy brushed off the dirt and looked at me ready to reply but froze as his eyes locked on something behind me.

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