now write me a novel

Cas is twenty-six and has never been kissed. It’s never been a problem, but now his advisor is saying that his dissertation, a romance novel, is lacking a personal touch and won’t be liked by the board. With one day until it is due Cas is at wits end, but maybe his roommate, Dean, can give him a few pointers. 2.9k [AO3 Link]

“You love me?” Jo asked with wide, open eyes.

Anna nodded back timidly and tried to walk away, but Jo caught her arm before she could make her escape.

“How long? How long, Anna?” she demanded. “How long have you loved me?”

Anna may have been an angel, bright and powerful and able to smite Jo in an instant, but in that moment, the angel looked completely and utterly human. Her eyes were downcast and her lip was perched between her teeth. She looked terrified, which was beyond Jo. How could an angel of the Lord be terrified of a simple human like her?

“Ever since I pulled you from Hell,” she whispered. “When I touched your soul, it was the purest thing I’ve ever felt in my life. From that first caress of your being, I knew that I’d Fall for you, Jo. I just knew.”

“Anna…” Jo trailed off, because what the hell. How could an angel love her, a hunter? It didn’t make any sense, because angels hated hunters. The only reason Jo was topside was because she was a pawn in their games, and even though she thought Anna wasn’t like the others, she still had doubts at times. She thought that Anna was just putting up with her, that Jo’s love for the angel was unrequited.

“I should go,” Anna said as she turned on her heel. Her large, obsidian wings flew out, ready for flight.

Jo felt herself panic as Anna crouched down. She couldn’t let her angel leave, not after a confession like that one.

“No you don’t,” Jo said, reaching forward and turning Anna around. With a fire within her, Jo leaned in and

“Their lips…no. They touch one another with their mouths…no. They…uh…mack on one another for a long time…the end.” Cas pushed his laptop away and ran fingers through his hair, groaning. “This is impossible,” he muttered to himself, and brought his elbows up onto the table.

He’d rewritten the ending scene with Anna and Jo’s kiss a thousand times, but it never worked out. Professor Mills cited a lack of personal touch, and told him to base the kiss on his own experiences. “Add a little raunchiness, will ya?” she said to him with an upturned grin. He nodded and laughed along at the time, but now he was truly panicking. He was never going to finish his dissertation before tomorrow’s board presentation, and it would all be because he’s the only twenty-six year old on the planet who has never been kissed.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t tried before. Back in college, Cas was almost kissed a few times, the closest being when he was playing a drunken game of spin the bottle with his floormates. It landed on a girl named Meg, a feisty business major who was known for her escapades in the bedroom, but when she leaned in and tried to kiss him, he couldn’t do it. When Cas imagined his first kiss, it always was with someone he really cared about, not some girl from Edlund Hall that he barely knew.

“Yeah, wait until you find the perfect person to kiss. That’ll do you a lot of good,” Cas angrily muttered to himself as he pulled his computer back towards him. The cursor blinked back at him mockingly, and Cas carefully began typing.

“With a fire within her, Jo leaned in and grabbed Anna’s face-”

“No, no, no!” Cas cried out as he pounded on the keys. Even if he had no experience, why couldn’t he write this damn scene? Kissing was not rocket science, and he’s read enough romance novels in his life. Why can’t he just write a few lines and get it over with?


He cringed when Dean’s voice hit his ears. The last thing he needed was his roommate seeing him all up in arms over this, especially since he was the one Cas had been trying to get the courage to kiss for years now. He quickly thought that if he wasn’t such a coward, then maybe he’d be able to not fail out of his dissertation.

“In my bedroom!” Cas called out, and began fruitlessly typing nonsense as Dean’s footsteps ricocheted off the hardwood floors, stopping when he reached Cas’s door.

“You okay?” Dean asked, and Cas turned around to see his friend leaning against the doorframe, lips turned up into a smirk as he toed the ground with his boot.

Perhaps it’s heightened by Cas’s troubles, but Dean looked even more handsome than usual. His jeans were rolled up at the bottom, revealing his ankles, and his white t-shirt was dirtied from his work shift at the garage. Combined with his playful gaze and his hands in his pockets, Cas felt himself blanching.

“Earth to Cas? You there, buddy?” Dean said as nodded in his direction.

Cas blinked owlishly a few times before going back to his laptop. “Yes, I’m sorry. I’m just trying to finish my dissertation.”

Dean walked over to his computer and peered over Cas’s shoulder. He could feel Dean’s breath on his neck, and it took everything in him to not turn his head and close the distance between them. It would be the perfect moment to get experience-

“Wow, this sucks,” Dean snorted, and alas, the moment was broken.

Cas glared up at Dean and pushed away from his desk. “You think it’s crappy? I’m presenting this to the board tomorrow,” Cas reminded him with emphasis. “And you decide to tell me now that it’s crappy?”

Dean held up his hands and backed away into the bed. He plopped down and replied, “Crappy isn’t the right word. It’s just…lacking. Jo grabbed Anna’s face and kissed her until they broke apart tells me nothing,” he said, quoting the last thing Cas wrote down. “I want to read about what the kiss felt like for Jo, you know?”

Cas took a deep breath and took a seat next to Dean. He folded his hands in his lap and glanced out the window, then asked the question that had been on his mind all day. “What does it feel like to be kissed, Dean?”

Keep reading

Don’t You Go | Jughead Jones

Originally posted by farous

Request: From the prompt ‘It was a mistake coming here’. 

Pairing: Jughead x reader
Description:  After your breakup with Jughead, you try to get over him but when you find out he’s planning to leave town, you have to try and stop him.
Word Count: 1953
Warnings: NONE.
A/N: This ended up being longer than I expected, oops. 

The cliche sounds of another sad love song blasted through your car speakers, the slow, sad song really speaking your feelings of the past two weeks. They had been some of the hardest of your sixteen years on the planet and nothing seemed to make you feel better. Not that you’d tried much in the first place. All you’d done was cry, eat your weight in junk food and listen to your favorite heartbreak playlist because that’s what you were dealing with - a broken heart.

For the past year and a half you had been dating Riverdale’s super sleuth Jughead Jones. You’d grown up together, being through everything together and that had only led to you growing closer to each other through every little thing until eventually you ended up together. It had been a dark, rainy night when you’d finally made things official. He was walking you home after one of your infamous Pop ventures, the rain pouring down hard when you had almost tripped over a rock on the ground. Luckily, your knight in shining armour caught you before you fell flat on your face. In that moment as you locked eyes with each other, the unspoken thing between the two of you became reality when he nervously leaned forward and kissed you. And you’d never looked back since.

Keep reading

Wow yeah I know, I completely forgot to do this. I literally gained so many people in the past month that I really quickly rose from 300 to almost 600 now which is amazing and really weird and why are you all here? Stanning a trash bag? But honestly thanks a lot for that, all of you that send in stuff, interact, or watch from afar. I luh yuh. Goat kisses to you all.

Just wanted to talk about some people who make my day worthwhile and make me actually excited to get online and write shit. Ya’ll great.

@dimittcre - Literally I could say so much, including our inside jokes or the shit we talk about on the daily. We’ve been through a lot, a lot that I know we don’t have to talk about to know that we’ve been through fire and brimstone and I would never want to change a thing about that because it brought us closer. Who would have thought that we’d be together after a year, and it all started because you skyped me for the first time and we listened to American Candy together when I was going through a rough patch. You’ve been there for me and been my other half. I love you :) You know I do though already.

@oftheoi - Ah yes, my friend! We’re both just ‘old’ and bitch about things on aim, but you’re definitely on that list of people that I would jump to help at any given moment. We’ve been through very similar stuff and you’re always willing to listen and I’m always here to listen to you. You’re very much on my list of friends.

@gilstagram - I spend so much time talking to you on Tumblr IM about our sunshine babies, and I’ve never actually had such a intensely platonic bond for any of my muses like Lacey and Gil have. You’re also so so nice and remind me of a puppy, so as a puppy myself, obviously we’re destined to get along well and we do!

@xxmysticfaexx - No matter what, you’re always sending me things to make me smile. Sometimes I think it’s like you have this telepathic nonsense of knowing when I’m a little down or need a pick me up, and it’s always in the form of something having to do with Ba/ek/hy/un, which is great. You’re a really wonderful friend, and I’m glad to call you one. 

Some other really awesome people that I love and of course have so much to say but my post would be way too long:

@chainsmokersx / @pcrfectscore / @nxmeinvxin / @somekindawonder / @lovclikesloth / @softlykills / @axhes / @hxllxwbxdies / @voxmail / @stxrryeyedchxld / @gamerbled

These people are people I follow who are just so!! good!! and deserve!! so much love!! I’m constantly blown away by how wonderful their writing is! Please give them love!

@gidae / @gcthigh / @amsijang / @rvxeira / @ohnoir / @lovclikewar / @heartgiven

He had auburn hair, closely trimmed and neatly kept. She couldn’t see his eyes, but instinctively she knew that they were just like her own: a sort of dark green with lighter flecks mixed in that never took well to contacts meant to change their color. He was driving, silent and steady as the woman next to him spoke of something or the other, but she couldn’t quite grasp what. The lady looked back, her blue eyes sparkling as she laughed, her voice light and cheerful.

Everything happened at once, as if time had crunched in on itself, bending and folding like the car was buckling under the combined pressure of gravity and concrete. Tires squealed, glass shattered, and a little girl cried out loudly, the shouts from the front seat doing nothing to quiet her. The vehicle rolled once, twice, and then a third time, landing hard on its top and finally resting there, as if someone had hit the pause button on a remote. Bethany could hear the sounds of the old car settling into its place, almost like it hadn’t decided if it could support itself where it had landed and might need to come crushing down just a bit more.

This isn’t real.

Compass Rose

Pairing: Harry Potter x Pansy Parkinson

Setting: Canon-divergent AU

Word Count: 908

She’s thirteen.

She kisses Draco Malfoy in a winter-empty courtyard overlooking the lake, under the mottled grey-lavender sky of the very early morning, and it’s—

It’s lackluster.

He tastes like peppermint toothpaste and the muddy remnants of a too-quick cup of tea. She can barely feel the outline of his shoulders beneath the weight of his quidditch jersey. There’s an uncomfortable moment of teeth clacking and lips catching, a hovering sort of awkwardness she wouldn’t have ever expected from him. Certainly, the cloying, sandalwood-spicy scent of his cologne is practically suffocating as she breathes in, breathes out, attempts to tilt her face to the side enough that his nose isn’t pressed right up against her own.

“Um,” she says, afterwards, when they’ve each taken a step back. “Good luck, then?”

He glances away, down towards the pitch, and then nods, jerkily. A dark pink blush stains his cheeks.

“Not like I need luck against Potter,” Draco sneers. “Honestly.”

Privately, she disagrees.

She’s sixteen.

She kisses Theodore Nott in a skinny, snow-banked alley between a bookshop and an apothecary, the air crisp and the breeze cold and the silky grey fur of her collar butterfly-soft against her jaw. He’s tall. She isn’t. They don’t quite fit, and he doesn’t quite know what he’s doing.

“You’re not even trying,” she hisses, afterwards, grabbing his hand and placing it firmly on the curve of her waist. “What are you—”

Suddenly, the atmosphere changes. Turns tense and vaguely expectant. Theo is stiff, frozen—a lanky, sweater-vested Grecian statue with milky freckles and a complexion like the petals of a sunflower—as he gapes at something behind her.

She spins around.

Harry Potter is standing at the far end of the alley, eyebrows raised and glasses slightly foggy. A twitch of a smirk is curling like cigarette smoke around the edges of his mouth. He’s smug. His gaze, when it flicks over to her, is sharp with disdain. Condescension. It reminds her of the broom polish in Draco’s trunk and the antique German cuckoo clock in the Malfoy drawing room and the sweltering, fear-tinged certainty that she’s never really belonged.

Instinctively, she lifts her chin.

Potter offers her a sarcastic sort of salute before turning on his heel and walking off.

“How tiresome,” she eventually snaps, rolling her eyes and tugging at the buttons of her coat. “We officially live in a world where Potter is more interested in what I get up to than Draco is.”

She’s seventeen.

She’s the scabs on her knees and the blood on her palms and the scratch of her tonsils kissing as her throat transforms into a rusted-shut padlock and she shouts—

“But, he’s there! Potter’s there! Someone grab him!”

It’s an origin story.

It’s not a plot twist.

She’s eighteen.

She kisses Harry Potter under the green leaves and red berries of the mistletoe, echoing tunnel-vision fragments of go away and of course I’m not sorry and I’d do lots of things over again if I had the chance and it’s—

It’s the firewhisky on her tongue and the butterbeer on his, molten-gold strands of honey and red-hot shivers of cinnamon, a tantalizing flicker of something traveling up and down her spine. She’s the emerald green stripes on her perfectly pressed tie and he’s the scattered ink-stained wrinkles on his long-sleeved cotton t-shirt and there’s symmetry, there’s balance, there’s the narrow windswept wire beneath the feet of a tightrope walker, a breeze and a wobble and a catch.

There’s her side; there’s his.

There’s this, her fingers in his hair and his hands around her waist and the slow, instinctive open-close-open of their mouths as it all escalates.

Moves faster.

There’s the shadows stretching past midnight in the alcove off the sixth-floor landing. There’s the cool castle wall against her back, a shaky, callused palm sliding up the inside of her thigh and pausing, lingering, the metallic clang of his belt buckle and the swishing whisper of her skirt and a memory, glue-tacky and faded, drawing room lessons with her mother and her nanny and wait until there’s a ring on your finger, Pansy

She’s soft; a dizzy, dizzy mist; a hesitant spring shower in the middle of December.

He’s the lightning bolt on his forehead.

He always has been.

“This—this was a mistake,” he blurts out, afterwards, and then winces. “I don’t mean…”

“It was,” she agrees, cutting him off with a brief toss of her hair. “Absolutely.”

His stare is no less penetrating for all its confusion. “Er. Right,” he says, blinking rapidly. “Absolutely.”

He’s curious.

She hadn’t anticipated that.

She’s twenty-one.

She’s six years past the age of leaving lipstick print kisses on her bathroom mirror—sticky crimson and garden-fresh pink and bruised, buttery violet—but she does it today. The cellophane wrapper of a muggle brand pregnancy test is crinkling at her from the tissue-paper depths of her wastebasket.

I love you, he’d said the night before, and he’d meant it.

Meanwhile, her toes had curled with reflexive urgency into the summer-warm cocoon of her sheets. Because if the dungeons at Hogwarts had been a cage, and the snarling serpent pendant on her necklace had been a call to arms, then the sparkling solitaire diamond in his bedside drawer would be the fluttering white flag of a surrender. A truce. A ceasefire.

Once upon a time, she’d been pure enough to pet a unicorn.

anonymous asked:

I have a friend with the same "you're not a real writer" mentality at home. I hope it doesn't discourage you too much. I love your writing. I feel like you have a good balance between introducing and explaining unfamilliar concepts, and telling us a story. I don't feel lost in the new myths, but also don't feel like there is too much technical background that it gets tiring. Your YOI fics are among my favorites. You love writing and you're good at it and I'm grateful that you share it <3

Luckily it doesn’t, I know how to brush my mom off by this point by now. But it’s just such a bad mentality, especially to actually voice it to writers. Literally every writer ever started as a “hobbyist” and some started a lot later than I have. Like, The Hobbit? Tolkien didn’t publish it until he was 45. The guy started working on his Middle Earth universe when he was 19 and didn’t start to publish it until 45. So I suppose Tolkien was just a “hobbyist” in all those years too, huh? Except, during those intervening years he was plotting and perfecting his stories and telling them orally to his son. There was years of work in writing already behind him when he published. But I guess during all those years he wasn’t “a real writer”. And that’s just Tolkien! You can’t churn out a complex series in no time, it doesn’t work like that. There has to be time and devotion and effort and drafts and sometimes it takes years or even decades. Or else the story doesn’t turn out right. What am I supposed to do? Write a “bestselling novel” in a month and expect it to sell? Nah, I’d be ashamed to do that. Not with all the devotion I’ve already put into my series. We are real writers, we just haven’t finished our The Hobbits yet. I wrote the first drafts of the novel I’m working on when I was 16 and let me tell you, that story has grown and changed for the better thanks to all my research and additions creating a richer backstory. These people want some bestselling stories? They need to wait & stop being so selfish.

Well anyway, setting my salt aside. Thank you so much !!!  Usually I have a difficult time finding that balance (cough, historical, if it isn’t about East. Euro. anyway) but I feel pretty confident with telling the myths & culture and that helps a lot. I’ve been working with them for so long now I guess it got to be second nature in my writing. And that I do !!!  I’ve been writing since I was very young! Literally, once I learned that anyone is allowed to write a novel I was like, I’m gonna go start doing that lol. Thank you, Nonny! I’m happy to share my passions, honestly, and I’m more than happy to hear you’re enjoying them c:

anonymous asked:

I hate sjm books so much that it inspired me to start writing and now Im working on novel.Thats whole new level of hate

Trust me, half of my novel I’m working on was fueled by my far dislike of SJM’s work. I feel you on a writing level.


Merlin + Arthurian quotes

He left the room and crossed the workshop to the study. Jennifer stood up. She wore a white gown with a leather bodice –silver-infused, just like his– and a holster hanging down her leg. “You look…” Arthur said, but before he could get the words out, Vivian came in the room and waved her hands. “Yes, yes, you both look wonderful and you’re full of compliments.” Robison Wells | Airships of Camelot

anonymous asked:

Dean and Cas with kids headcanons?

they would be the most d i s g u s t i n g daddies you have e v e r seen, they would be fucking shameless in how they cooed and coddled their little babies and spoiled them rotten

when they get word they’ve been cleared for adoption Dean would turn his nerves into building a crib himself because he just doesn’t trust those damn things out of a box, no kid of his is sleeping in something that came out of a BOX, and Cas wakes up and finds Dean sitting in the middle of wood and nails crying and Cas has to put his arms around Dean while he blubbers about how he doesn’t know how to be good enough of a dad and what if he drops her or what if he screws her up and he’s scared he’s going to end up like his father

Cas is always holding steady for every one of Dean’s outbursts leading up to the big day but then their little baby Mary gets put in their arms and it’s Cas who just starts crying his eyes out while Dean just smiles so big his face hurts

he drives the Impala at a crawl back home, yelling out the window every time someone honks at him or flips him off. “I GOT A BABY ON BOARD, PAL”

they have to fight over whose turn it is to get to sit in the rocking chair and feed her, and they both keep falling asleep on the nursery floor so they just give in and bring the crib into their room for a few weeks cause they’re too tired to have sex anyway, they just fall asleep in their clothes drooling on each other until the baby wakes them up again

sometimes Dean sits on the edge of the bed and just blearily watches Cas sing and rock the baby back and forth across the room and he thinks I married the biggest nerd who ever lived

Cas buys one of those slings and carries Mary around on his chest while he does chores or does the shopping and sometimes Dean wants to hide his face in embarrassment and sometimes he gets a little choked up because he can’t believe how beautiful they are

Dean has a picture saved on his phone of Cas with pureed peas splattered across his stoic I am an angel of the Lord face, Cas has one of Dean changing Mary’s diaper and he sends it to everyone he knows, including Sam who prints it off and puts it on his fridge

Mary’s first words are “son of a bitch!” and Dean almost falls over laughing while Cas stands with his hands disapprovingly on his hips

Dean is “daddy” and Cas is “papa” and you will never convince me otherwise

After some delay, my book is available on Amazon!

While the magical world as long since retreated into obscurity, the magic users of the world are far from safe. A shadowy government agency is hunting them down, forcing the world to go deeper into hiding.

Alice Tomkins spent most of her life cut off from this hidden world, safe in her own bubble with her mother, until their home was invaded and Alice’s mother was forced to send Alice away and sacrifice herself to save her daughter.

Fast forward a year. Alice is living on the streets of San Francisco, struggling to survive, when she meets Riley Nichols, another magic user in a similar situation. They find themselves drawn together after Alice saves Riley from the mysterious men in black. As it turns out, however, the men are the least of their problems. Alice is in the cross hairs of a maniacal magic user, determined to use her and her magic to fight back. In her attempts to get away, Alice and Riley find themselves thrown deeper into the world they’ve been living on the edges of their entire lives, and quickly learn that nothing is what it seems.

You can buy it here.

Even if you can’t afford it right now, please consider reblogging this to help me spread the word?

Demure Dalliance pt. 4 (V, Angst)

Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 // Part 4 // Part 5 // Part 6// Part 7 // Part 8 // Part 9 // Part 10// Part 11

Hopefully this brings me out of my writing hiatus now?? @namhyong, @jinhyong, @hyongtae, @infireation, @hyongsuga, @novel-tee, @unpretty-writer tagging for my sweatpee’s ♥

Words: 2,410

Taehyung shuffled passed some of his coworkers, stealthily avoiding their small talk and hurrying into the men’s bathroom. All of the stalls were empty, as was expected. It was late into the night, and this part of the department was rather empty, besides the over achievers. Such as himself. 

Yet, there stood Jungkook in front of the mirror, raking his fingers across his scalp and shooting himself loving puppy dog pout faces. Jungkook wore a simple button down shirt and slacks. Taehyung sighed, rolling his eyes at the sight.

“Are you going somewhere?” He interrupted Jungkook’s mirror photo shoot, and the younger man quickly shook him off. He could tell Jungkook was rather flustered being caught in that action.

“Out to meet with a friend.” He replied sheepishly, shooting Taehyung a look from the mirror. Taehyung strode past him to a urinal, the farthest away from where Jungkook stood.

“A friend?” Taehyung exaggerated, rolling his eyes despite knowing Jungkook couldn’t see him. He unzipped his jeans, listening to Jungkook mull on.

“A girl.” Jungkook grumbled, and Taehyung heard him whisk his jacket off the counter and leave. He’d been meeting a girl lately, and Taehyung couldn’t tell if it was the same or a different one each time. Still, he seemed to be getting closer to that girl, leaving work after slicking his hair back and dressing nicely. Sometimes even bringing wrapped presents for later in the evening to present to her. It all seemed to start when the case of Kim Namjoon started at least 2 months back. It was either that or Taehyung was too skeptical and sensitive. Oh well, at least he could finally pee in peace.

You on the other hand, tapped the tabletop in your dining room to a specific rhythm, waiting for Jungkook to arrive. He was only late by a little, but its not like that mattered as long as he showed up. You’d taken extra care to dress up after returning from work, even wearing a dress.

There was a simple tap on the door, signaling you that he arrived, and you stood from your seat quickly. Brushing your outfit down, you whisked yourself to the door and greeted a smiling Jungkook at the door.

“How are you feeling? I brought some take out. Your favorite.” He murmured, leaning down to kiss your forehead softly. You grinned shyly at the feather light touch, pleased at how close you and Jungkook had grown in such a short period of time. It had only been 2 months, yet he did so much to help you get back on your feet.

“The will finally came through, huh?” Jungkook looked your outfit over, biting his lip.

“Mm, I got my dad’s money. We should go to dinner soon. My treat?”

He chuckled, walking inside the apartment and taking off his jacket. You hung it up, following him into the living room. “Don’t spend it all in one place, okay? Save it for when you really need it.”

You frowned, sinking against the sofa beside him. “Its okay, my dad was really rich. There’s more money in that savings account than you’ve ever even heard about in your life, I bet.”

Jungkook quirked a brow, sliding his arm around your shoulder. “Have you visited his grave lately to thank him for the money? I’m sure he put a lot of work into making that to give to you when he passed.”

You ignored Jungkook, laying your head on his shoulder. “The court hearing is soon, I hear its a jury trial?”

He shrugged uncomfortably, mouth forming a straight line. “I can’t tell you much about it until it happens. Even if we’re together like this, I’m still a cop who has duties.”

“Mm…” You whined, tugging on his sleeve. “Please?”

“I’m sorry.” He apologized, reaching for the bag on your coffee table.

You sighed, not taking it too personally. “I guess it’s really true that a man loves his job more than his girlfriend, huh?”

He snorted, tapping your shoulder playfully. “Girlfriend? I didn’t think we established that yet.”

“You don’t want me to be your girlfriend?” You pouted, pulling away from him. Jungkook brought you back, closer than before.

“I never said that. I just thought…maybe it’s too soon, after you know…your dad…”

“I’m over it.” You shrugged, noticing the flicker in Jungkook’s eye almost immediately. Shit. “I mean, it’s not like I can bring him back…I miss him so much but what’s the point of dwelling on the past, right?”

There was a hint of a smile on his face. “You don’t need to explain anything to me…”

“I-I know…I just-” A shrill ring bit through the air, cutting you off from explaining yourself. Jungkook held up a finger, reaching into his pocket to fish out his beaten up phone.

“It’s my boss…”

“Take it, it must be important.” You shoo’d him away nonchalantly, letting him pass you on the sofa.

“I’ll just be a minute. You can start eating, if you want.”  Jungkook suggested, while disappearing behind the front door. You waited until you could hear the click of the door hitting the frame, until getting up and going toward it.

If it was really important, why would his boss be calling someone of his status? Jungkook was barely a cop, let alone someone important enough for his boss to call personally.

You leaned your ear against the door, only catching small snippets of the conversation. It sounded as if Jungkook was pacing the hall.

“…don’t know, Jimin. Are you writing this down? I’ve almost got enough evidence to convict her.”

Jimin? Who was her? Even off duty was it proper to call your boss his first name only? You didn’t suspect so. Something was off by the way he talked, and it made you wonder why he would have to leave the room for this, as private as it was. It’s not like you’d have any clue as to what he was talking about, right?

Before you could hear anything else, you quickly ghosted your way back into the living room, where you got the food out and readied it for his return. You did the right thing by no longer eavesdropping, because Jungkook walked right back inside just after you finished setting down his box of Chinese.

“Sorry.” He apologized, sitting beside you. You nodded in acknowledgement, standing up to go over to the television.

“Should we watch a movie? I have The Grudge on DVD.”

“Mm, won’t you get too scared? Should I protect you?” He teased, but still waved in agreement. You placed the DVD into the player, turning the movie on.

Sitting back down beside Jungkook, he laid his arm around your shoulders and pulled you against him. You still felt strange, unable to stop thinking about the man he was on the phone with before.

You both got engulfed in conversation as the movie began, and dug into your food. You hardly paid attention to the movie the whole time, waiting to bring up the phone call. Was that even proper? You felt wrong thinking about it, but you knew you’d scarcely be able to sleep unless you got it off of your chest somehow.

“So,” you turned to him innocently as the ending credits rolled across the screen. “What’s your bosses name?”

“Mm? Oh, Min Yoongi. Why?”

Min Yoongi? He was talking to someone named Jimin. You turned your face back toward the screen, afraid your expression would make him wary. Keeping the upbeat tone you had in your voice before, you shrugged as nonchalantly as possible.

“I was just wondering. I thought I knew who worked as the boss, an old friend of mine?”

“Oh, that makes sense.”

Not really… “Yeah, I was just curious.”

Jimin slammed the files down on Taehyung’s desk, brushing his vibrant red bangs out of his face. “I was just curious! We have so much evidence on her.” He snapped at Taehyung.

“Didn’t I tell you to mind your own business? This is my case! You’re not a detective, butt out. Tell Jungkook to get away from her unless he has the intention of ruining his fucking career!”

Jimin winced at his tone of voice, adjusting his tie and glasses that had slid down the bridge of his nose.

“Jungkook is off duty. You can’t do any-”

“Want to bet what I can and can’t do? That makes it even worse, for Jungkook to be investigating a false lead on my case off duty! Tell Jungkook to get his ass out of her life.”

Jimin had done it, now. Taehyung was almost at his wit’s end with those two. What were they thinking, trying to convict an innocent girl such as yourself? You had an alibi and not to mention the murder weapon was found in Namjoon’s house. Jungkook was digging himself an early grave getting involved with you.

“Fine, but I’m just telling you that you have no authority over what Jungkook does. If Yoongi hears about this, he’ll butt you off the case.”

“Butt me out of the case? Are you fucking insane? (Y/N) hasn’t been under suspicion for months, and all Jungkook’s doing is messing around with her at this point.” Taehyung snarled, standing up in his seat. He was much more intimidating, he thought, towering over Jimin like a sky scraper. “The court hearing is coming up next month, and when Kim Namjoon is convicted of first degree murder I’m going to tell Yoongi that the two of you were trying to get an innocent girl thrown in jail. Goodnight, Jimin.”

Glowering at Taehyung only a moment longer, Jimin turned on his heel, walking from his office. With a loud bang as the door slammed shut, Taehyung fell back into his revolving chair with an exasperated sigh. Why were his coworkers stirring up such unnecessary drama? Taehyung thought they were all on the same team, but he supposed that was not the case any longer.

He couldn’t even tell you, either. If you knew that Jimin and Jungkook were plotting to get you sent to jail without proper evidence, they’d both be fired, or even sued if it came down to that. 

“God!” Taehyung kicked his desk, running his hand through his hair. Ignoring the sudden pain shooting up his leg from idiotically hitting wood, he ignored the files Jimin left him and got ready to leave. He was rather glad to have caught Jimin on the phone while explaining just how to weasel enough information out of you. As if you’d have any, anyway.

“Jeon Jungkook…”Taehyung muttered under his breath. “I’m going to kill you.”

He picked up his jacket, rustling the pocket to make sure his keys and phone securely sat in there before rushing out of his office. Making sure the office door was locked before that, he left the department and found himself running to the parking lot as wind whipped his hair off of his forehead.

You sat on the sofa, fingers raking through Jungkook’s hair as his lips trailed down your shoulder. His hands slid your cardigan off, warm fingers peeling the straps to your dress down as well.

“Jungkook…” Your breath hitched as he began to unzip the dress, but he didn’t stop his lips from snaking down your collarbone.

A loud bang had you both flinching away from each other.

“Detective Kim Taehyung, open up! Jungkook, I know you’re in there!”

Your eyes met Jungkook’s, his cheeks slightly flushed and breath lost. You pulled your cardigan back around your shoulders, zipping your dress up as far as it would go.

“…Jungkook? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know.” He admitted, getting on his feet and smoothing his hair down. You rose as well, but Jungkook firmly pushed both shoulders back down.

“Hold on.” He murmured over more banging on the door.

“Jungkook, it’s my apartment… I should get the door.”

“Open up!” Taehyung snapped from the other side of the door. He could hear Jungkook speaking in a low tone to you, and was about to barge in if it wasn’t opened in the next 20 seconds.

Just as he reached for the door knob, you appeared, raking it open and greeting him with swollen lips and messy hair. Of course Jungkook would try and have sex with you while attempting to make you out to be a murderer.

“Detective…” You spoke quietly, voice raspy as you pawed at your hair. Taehyung held the door open on his own, pushing past you to get inside.

“Jungkook’s here, right?” He scanned the apartment from the door way, and sure enough he spotted Jungkook standing near the sofa and staring at him with wide eyes. He knew he was caught.

“You, get the hell out of here.” Taehyung jerked his thumb toward the door. “My car’s outside. You can buy me a full tank of gas.”

“What are you doing? We’re kind of on a date-” You took hold of Taehyung’s jacket, but he shook you off.

“You’re not on a date anymore. I’m saving that kid from getting fired. Hurry up, Jungkook, time’s ticking.”

“Detective Taehyung!” You tried again, gripping his shoulders. “I think I deserve an answer as to what the hell is going on!” 

“Jungkook doesn’t like you! He’s just using you. Is that enough, Miss (Y/N)? If that’s all, I’ll be taking Jungkook.”

He strode over to Jungkook, grimacing angrily as he took hold of the younger boys collar. Jungkook was shocked into silence, staring between Taehyung and you every few seconds.

“Jungkook…” You whispered, just as shocked as him. Looking at you, Taehyung felt a tang of guilt seeping in. You looked destroyed. It seems as though you’d truly grown fond of that immature kid.

“I-I’ll call you-” Jungkook attempted to say, but Taehyung shoved him out the door.

“I’m sorry for this. I’d rather you ignore Jungkook’s calls and texts from now on, alright?”

“I…yeah…” You couldn’t meet Taehyung’s eyes, but he didn’t care. He felt terrible for barging in this way, but his impulse took over. His impulse never took over if he could help it. This time, he couldn’t.

“I’ll be going, then.” Taehyung left your apartment, taking Jungkook by the scruff of the neck and practically shoving him. He forced himself not to look back, but he had a certain feeling that you were watching as they turned the corner toward the elevator.

Last Chapter // Next Chapter 

I just made this huge story on my personal snapchat that I want to share here because I think that it may be beneficial to some of my followers who beat themselves up about their work. Maybe grab a tea or coffee before you begin, because this is a long’un. Ok, here goes:

Last Saturday I photographed my two friends getting married. On Sunday I began the process of importing and sorting through my images. My process for sorting is in Bridge where I file through every image in their carousel thingy and highlight all the images that I want to take a second look at. While I was making my first pass at sorting through the images, I had a mini meltdown because I kept picking out all the flawed images. I wasn’t focusing on which ones were good, I was focusing on which ones were bad. Which was making me upset because I kept asking myself, “How come this one didn’t work out? This image would have been so good. All these images suck.” 

I kept beating myself up about it and so I needed 3 days to like separate from it and refresh my mind. Now looking through them again, I’m focusing on the good images. I mean, yes, there are some images that would have been great shots that are either out of focus or blurry but there are a LOT of good images. 

This is how my brain works, and how I view things: All 2000+ images should have been perfect, but they’re not. And they’re not supposed to be because life isn’t perfect, right? Like when I made the second pass with a less critical mind, there are at least 800+ images that are worth editing. I need to remind myself of that - that not everything has to be perfect. There will be some duds in there because that’s just how life is. I need to stop being so pessimistic and negative about stuff. I need to also stop beating myself about that kind of stuff and just appreciate the good images.

So yea, I just wanted to share that because I’m a negative person. I like to call myself a realist but let’s call it what it is: I’m a negative person and most of that negativity I reflect onto myself and so I need to remind myself what I do is good.
I also need to learn to take compliments because people compliment me/my work and my first reaction is always “oh no, no”. I don’t know what that is. I’m sure there’s a lot of you like that too where getting compliments is a weird thing. I get uncomfortable when people pay me compliments because I don’t think it’s warranted or that I deserve it. I think that has to do a lot with confidence and self-esteem.

Anyways, I just wanted to tell you guys about my editing process and how I was looking at the fact that only 40% of the photos were good or useable, where, you know, I looked at that as being a negative thing. Like ONLY 40%?!?! But in actual fact that’s like 800+ images which is a large number of images to give a client.

So, yes, I just wanted to share this in case anyone else was feeling blah about stuff and looking at the negative side - as someone who always looks at the negative side (this girl right here) I’m here to remind you (and me) to look at the positive side too because it’s both, right? It’s positive and negative - it’s not one or the other, it’s a balance of both.

Ok, talktime over.

I get messages all the time asking how I’m able to take such beautiful images. A lot of it has to do with practice, but the other thing I think a lot of people forget is that as photographers (artists, musicians, creators, pretty much anyone) we put out our best possible work. There’s a lot of images that are discarded because they just plain fucking suck. 

So I can imagine that for new photographers or for photographers who have been on tumblr for a while and haven’t gotten the recognition they deserve can sometimes compare their body of work to a photographer who has a larger audience and think, “why can’t my stuff be that good” (I also get a lot of these messages btw). And I think that for the majority of people asking themselves that question aren’t being fair to their work. For one, every person is different, so you can’t compare yourself to someone else because everyone is going to be different because of taste, style, experience, technique, etc… Two, you’re likely comparing your whole body of work to one photographer’s tumblr or portfolio where they post only their best work. So here you are including all your duds and comparing it to someone’s best work. Like I can’t even tell you how shit a lot of my work is. Three - the more “known” photographers on tumblr (which i think is silly for anyone to call themselves tumblr famous btw - like it’s bullshit) have had to work really hard at their ~craft. We have (or at least I have) experienced the same frustrations as you do and in fact STILL DO (I mean, this is the whole point of this post). And lastly THIS SHIT TAKES TIME. Like idk about others, but it took me a long three years to get where I am now. People need to remind themselves that becoming good at something doesn’t happen overnight. It’s something you need to work at and continue working at. I’m still learning and growing as a photographer and as a person.

This is very longwinded, sorry, but I really just wanted to get across the point to not be so negative about your work. It’s easy to pick out your flaws and super hard to pick out your great qualities but it’s those wonderful qualities that you need to remind yourself of. You are not just your flaws, you are your strengths too. 

If you’re still reading this, give yourself a star and a++ and treat yo self to chocolate or binge marathon because you’re gonna need it after this novel of a post.

ps this is very much geared towards photographers but I think that the advice and major themes in here are applicable to anyone for any situation, not just people with cameras glued to their faces.

I’m trying to find the words to describe what I feel about this tour but.. I can’t. There’s just so much.
I remember that May 5th, I was going to bed and checking tumblr to see if there had been any news yet, but it was too early. So I woke up the next day and I remember having breakfast looking for pictures or videos. I remember being on the car on my way to school and seeing the light-up bracelets thing. I watched two videos that morning, one of them was of the whole stadium lit up, and I think the other one was of I Knew You Were Trouble. I remember I had my mouth wide open, I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. I also remember looping a video that had mashed up the MUCH COOLER THAN MINE and the AND WE RUUUUN every day for like two weeks lmao. And being sad “knowing” that I wouldn’t get to go to this tour just like it happened with all of the other tours.
I remember my mom saying “Caro.. I’m considering taking you to the US to see Taylor” and how much I smiled when she said those words but at the same time not getting my hopes up because I still thought it was impossible. I remember looking at the ticket prices of almost every show and trying to buy Pit tickets but not being able to. And then finding good tickets for the Miami show. I recall buying them on June 13th. Having them in my hands. I would see Taylor. I finally could say that.
I remember counting down the days. I remember checking the countdown thing I had in my phone and seeing “280 days” and suddenly it was 20 days. I remember getting on a plane knowing that I was getting closer and closer to my idol, and to my dreams coming true. I remember getting to the hotel and seeing the arena from the window, all lit up. I remember when the trucks arrived -oh my, I was dying of excitement that day. I remember the day coming closer and closer until it was the day. I was finally going to see the woman who had been my idol for more than three years. I remember going to the venue in the morning and seeing some groups of people already and my stomach felt like a rock because I was so nervous and excited. And telling my mother to wear her keds instead of the high heels she wanted to put on because it would be a long long day and we would have to run. And being at the queue of the merch shop trying to find a picture of Emma aka @taylorslistofexlovers aka my internet best friend so my mom could help me find her and suddenly hearing a loud “CARO!!” and feeling someone’s arms around me (side note: I have tears in my eyes as I’m writing this). I remember meeting @miserablemagics and her squad. And finally getting into the venue and realizing it was so huge and I was in the same place as Taylor was which had never happened to me before. And going to the Taylor Nation booth and meeting Tania ( @tanialovestaylor ) and her being so nice to me. And Vance Joy playing and me starting to realize that it was about to start. I remember listening to the songs waiting for Feel so Close to come up at any minute. And talking (even more) to Emma and hugging her every two seconds because I couldn’t believe I was physically with her. I remember when Feel so Close came up -WHAT A MOMENT. I started to dance and I remember screaming to my mother things like “TAYLORS COMING OKAY” and the happiness on my mother’s face because she had always wanted me to see me happy just like in that moment (side note two: in 2013 for my birthday she posted on my facebook wall and she wrote she hoped that all my dreams came true and she specially mentioned going to Taylor’s concert someday). When Taylor came out I didn’t record it. I wanted to fully live the moment. And I did. I danced until the very end of the concert. I had fun, screamed, jumped, danced, sang. I remember her looking at me and smiling during Shake it Off. And I remember forgetting (pretty ironic, huh?) about loft all night and really enjoying the show. I seriously can’t thank Taylor enough for all of these memories I’ll always keep in my heart.
I remember sitting outside the venue and my mother wanting to get me into loft ilegally lol, and me saying “It seems like it just wasn’t meant to be mom, it’s okay. I still had the best night of my life”. And feeling kinda sad but also not being able to stop smiling because it had happened.
I recall being at the airport, with my light-up bracelet on, thinking about what had happened the night before.
Taylor, thanks for inspiring me, for giving me something so special to share with my mother, for being so nice to everyone, for always being there for me even if it’s through music, for following me on here, for making me so happy. I love you so much.
PS if any of you actually took the time to read this I love you and thank you!

sonjasmb  asked:

Dear Maggie, I have a very crucial question. It may not seem crucial at the moment, but in time you may see the devastating need for me to know. Other people probably want to ask this as well but don't have the courage to. So, I shall represent those people and speak up for their lost voices. I hope you answer this, but if not I completely understand as it is highly likely you are busy. Just know it would make my day. Looking over your past books, do you ever regret writing certain things?

Dear sonjasmb,

You should know that I have, in general, a fairly dim view of regret.

It’s a fine enough concept and regretful is a nice looking word in a manuscript, but I think regret is to movement as hell is to mischief. Keeping your eyes on one puts a distinct damper on the other. Regret’s superpower of unproductivity stems from powerlessness: we can’t do anything about the things we regret, as we don’t have time machines. In the case that we do get time machines, I will travel back and edit this post accordingly. But if you’re reading the words time machine in this post now, assume that my opinion still holds true.

Regret’s a ghost that haunts your future. When you live with it, you don’t try so that you don’t fail and all that. I do have a few things that I genuinely regret in my life, but most of the mistakes and hardships and weird social moments and broken bones are just things that made me who I am. My past life is defined by me making choices I will never make again; I’m like the waves at a shoreline — I look the same, but I’m always changing. 

So no: I do not regret anything that I have written. There are a lot of plot, character, and word choices in my earlier books that I wouldn’t make now, but that’s also true of the novel I’m writing now. Those past choices made me the writer I am now; my current choices make me the writer I will be in the future. I’ve published more than a million words. I hope I feel as free to play in the next million.