i just don't want to deal can i just publish this so that it gets out of my head

One Night

One night during 6th year, Harry couldn’t sleep and he got out of bed just after midnight to do what had become his daily routine, which is stalk Draco Malfoy while telling himself over and over again that “the git is up to something.”

So Harry finds him lurking in a dark empty corridor by himself. He gets there and sees Draco’s figure from a distance, but Draco keeps disappearing quickly. Harry becomes frustrated and then looks into the Marauder’s map and sees that now he’s gotten really close to him but he can’t find him. He turns his head in all directions and sees nothing.

As he’s looking around in suspense, Harry out of nowhere gets slammed against the wall and pinned by the chest. The startling movement causes him to drop the map and his wand with it. He looks over to see that Draco has got his left arm pressed on his chest while pointing his wand at him in his right hand. Harry freezes as he’s caught by surprise, feeling powerless by Draco’s grip and his terrifying glare. Draco comes closer to Harry’s face in a threatening way, making Harry’s legs go weak.

What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing, Potter? Following me around in the middle of the night?” Draco snaps, not really showing how scared he is of why Harry is following him.

Harry is shaken up, but tries to collect himself. “J-just, you know…” he quickly retorts “trying to find out what you’re doing creeping around here in the middle of the night?”

Draco’s heart jumps now that Harry appears to be onto him, but he’s also furious and threatens to curse him.

“You haven’t the slightest idea of what I’m going through, Potter, who I’m dealing with. I don’t need the added pressure of dealing with you too.” His eyes are filled with anger.

“What do you mean ‘who you’re dealing with’? What’s going on, Malfoy?” Harry asks so curiously, narrowing his eyes at him.

“What’s going on is none of your bloody business.” Draco realizes that he rambled. “Stay out of this, Potter. I mean it.” His eyes are not only filled with anger, but something else Harry noticed… fear.

Harry can clearly see that beyond his flaming expression, Draco is actually scared of something, someone. He is scared out of his mind. Harry is struck by this realization.

“You’re in trouble, aren’t you?” Harry finds himself saying, almost with a concern in his voice.

But Draco refuses to admit anything. He’s not going to let Harry get to him. He covers by threatening him again.

“The only one in trouble here is you, Potter, since you always just love sticking that bloody nose of yours where it doesn’t belong. Is that why you’re really here? Is that what you really want? Because I can give you trouble, you know.” He presses his wand against Harry’s neck as if he’s about to curse him this time.

But Harry, to Draco’s confusion, doesn’t fight back.

“Go ahead,” Harry says almost so innocently, locking his eyes with him. “if that’s what you really want.”

Draco is taken by what Harry just said, how he looked at him, surrendering himself. Of course he can’t do it. Not only he doesn’t really have it in him, but he especially doesn’t have it in him to do it to Harry. He simply can’t for whatever reason he fails to understand. He may live to make his life difficult, but cursing him, possibly killing him, is something entirely different. And Harry somehow knew that. He just knew that Draco wouldn’t go that far with him despite how livid he seemed, which is why he doesn’t even attempt to fight back. It’s almost as if he let go of himself completely and put his fate entirely in Draco’s hands.

At that, Draco’s grip loosens. He seems to be lost in his own thoughts as he lowers his wand and just stares into Harry’s face, shaken and confused. There is a brief but a very intense silence that felt like a lifetime.

He suddenly let go of Harry completely, before turning and walking away. He starts running midway through, not wanting Harry to see that he’s probably getting emotional. Harry, however, immediately follows him, calling him and shouting his name.

It is at that moment where Harry is left completely perplexed, where for the first time he sees a very different side of Draco, and wonders if he started to maybe care for him? It’s where Draco is so desperate and so lonely and very much in need of someone, and that someone just might be his long-time sworn enemy.

Where things go from here, might just be the beginning of something both of them haven’t at all expected or thought was ever possible just moments earlier.

anonymous asked:

if youre taking requests, enjoltaire + truth or dare

A/N: Thank you so much for the prompt anon! I actually wrote this about three times because I kept forgetting to save! Here are our boys being silly with a guest appearance from everyone’s fave plot device: the art of Miscommunication. I hope you enjoy !!

P.S I’m still taking prompts if anyone has any they’d like to send!!

Grantaire knows it’s all about to go downhill the moment Éponine gets that smile on her face.

There’s a lot you can learn about someone through their facial expressions- the example in question, Éponine, is currently wearing her ‘I’m about to fuck shit up and I know it’ smile.

Enjolras, who is on the receiving end of said smile, looks nowhere near as terrified as he rightfully should do. Everyone who’s ever played truth or dare with Éponine knows you do not, under any circumstance, ever, choose dare. Enjolras either doesn’t know this or doesn’t care, sitting up proudly and condemning himself to what Grantaire knows will be his end.

He’d always assumed Enjolras would die a martyr, nobly refusing to concede in the face of his enemies. He’d never dreamt that Enjolras would meet his end at one of Courfeyrac’s hastily thrown parties because he was foolish enough to choose dare at the hands of Éponine.

“Enjolras,” Éponine begins slowly, pronouncing every syllable in a way that sounds unmistakably dangerous- a trick she surely learnt from Montparnasse. “I dare you… to kiss Grantaire.”

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anonymous asked:

Auntie Z, I'm kinda worried that the current shitty Cap storyline and Marvel's shitty behaviour will turn so many people away from who Steve Rogers is meant to be that the shitty neo-nazis will 'win', claiming him as theirs because people stopped fighting for him. I know he's just a character, but he's a symbol as well and I don't want them to be able to say he's theirs. Am I being stupid about this?

I will start by validating you, Non: you are not being stupid!

The thing about this awful storyline/event/whatever is that it is basically, in real life, One Year. It will end at the end of the summer, hopefully. There will be aftershocks and repercussions, but the Big Two have “turned the universe on its head” so many times that both the main DC universe and the 616 are perpetually doing cartwheels at this point.

Put it into perspective in the long term: Steve Rogers has been Captain America, Jewish golem and symbol of the American commitment to justice, for seventy-five years. One Year out of three quarters of a century of Steve being mangled to near-unrecognizable by poor editorial and writing decisions will not undo Seventy-Five Years of legacy if we don’t allow it.

This brings up a very interesting question, though, about the nature of intellectual property and who owns the canon.

In a very real, financial sense, Disney and Marvel own Captain America, and they can do whatever they want with it. However.

Consider Sherlock Holmes.

Consider The Wizard of Oz.

Any idea, or character, or fiction beautiful and needful enough to embed itself in the minds and hearts of hundreds and thousands and hundred thousands of fans eventually slips out of their unknowing hands, and becomes a shared creation that belongs as much to the audience as to the copyright holder, and this can be true of any fictional thing of any dimensions.

Consider Sailormoon.

Consider Harry Potter.

The boycott of @nickspencerly‘s ugly story seems like a shout in the dark.

ACD wanted to quit writing SH and move on. The fans were merciless. His hand was forced.

Baum wrote a great deal of his non-Ozian, non-fantasy work under a feminine pen name, because his own name was so tightly bound to that for which he was famous.

Takeuchi tried to kill the senshi at the end of every arc, and the publishers made her bring them back, because the fans clamored so loudly they could not be ignored.

Would we still remember HP as fondly if we had not had the budding internet and Rowling’s blessing for our transformative works?

Consider Homestuck.

Consider twelve entire seasons of Supernatural.

If we, the fans, love something so much that we are become incapable of being ignored, we will, however gradually, move the needle. It won’t always be in the right direction-

Consider Agent Carter.

-but we will move it nonetheless.

It may seem Sisyphean, honestly. It certainly feels it. Today a graphic of the sales for CA:SR went across my dash, and the graph went inexorably down. So far, so good. But standing across from us are the fans who want this awful garbage to continue as an “experiment,” who say that they invest more money in this franchise than we do and so their voices matter more.

Do they actually invest more money? Debatable!

I don’t spend most of my CA money on comics, because I slipped back into reading comics in 2014 after a seven year hiatus where I read nothing but manga, and the storylines since I came back have felt like one “event” after another, with far too much cross-contamination of books that made it difficult to pick up a story. From me, Disney/Marvel mostly gets merch money, and I know a lot of the fans that I associate with are the same. (They also get BP/MGDD money, but I’m not going down the digression highway tonight, I have a point to get to eventually.)

So when we, the SJ!Cap fans, say “We’re boycotting,” to be sure, sales are plummeting. But there’s no way to prove the sales are plummeting because of us, and even smaller sales are still selling. The curative fans are some of the loudest Spencer defenders, sadly, which makes it hard to tell them from the alt-right, neo-Nazi HydraCap fans. They can protest that all they like, but it looks the same from the outside. The damage done is certainly the same.

On the surface, also, there are still people in transformative fandom doing HydraCap art from their own AUs or other fandom generated properties whose enthusiasm cannot be differentiated from those supporting Spencer’s vomit. To my fellow transformative fans I would make a humble request: if you don’t support Spencer’s HydraCap, please refrain from sharing your HydraCap art until the ugly has passed as a sort of “art boycott.”

(I know full well that I can’t make artists stop doing art. I’m just an academically trained pop culture analyst- ask me about that some other time- who can point to various times when art has been influential to the culture as well as influenced by it. It’s a request, not an expectation.)

Other than boycotting, what can we do? We can write editorials explaining why this is not okay. We can create transformative works, including t-shirts and such, for ourselves that reclaim our Steve as the real Steve, and we can keep up the letter writing, telephoning, and social media deluge to let Disney know how badly Marvel Comics is hurting the Captain America brand and damaging the Captain America legacy. We can introduce the character ourselves, show who we know Steve to be, present our evidence, discredit the HydraCap faithful.

We can try to hold the line, essentially.

I’m totally with you in feeling that the fact we even have to do this at all is gross. It hurts my head, as a pop culture specialist, and it hurts my heart as a fan. #catws ruined my life is meant to be an ironic hashtag: in 2014, I found Steve Rogers again the way some people find religion. I wrote about it in my mental health tag, how I decided I can’t give up on myself because Steve would never give up on Bucky. Steve has been my mental health recovery inspiration, and Spencer and his cadre of tasteless, vile Dementors can pry him from my fat little cold dead hands. Until I’m on the conveyor belt for the crematorium and they’ve snapped my fingers off with their Hydra-insignia stamped crowbars, I’m gonna plant myself like a tree beside the river of truth and keep spreading the story of who and what Jack Kirby and Joe Simon meant Steve Rogers and Captain America to be, and I invite you to do the same.

They can’t uproot us all. Fuck ‘em.


replied to your post

“Y'all I am high key not expecting Emma and Killian to reunite until…”

Unfortunately, this. Lower your expectations… I’m not mad they Jmo is leaving, but more like they knew that she was leaving and the writers barely wrote any scenes of them together (and only them) in the last 2 episodes. Screw them…

First off, I’m gonna apologize that you’re the one that gets this rant, but it’s been building for a while, so out it comes…

Narratively THIS! MAKES! SENSE!

Think about it. Movies–everything is head toward one point. You resolve the conflict and you get a few minutes of resolution. Books–again the narrative is always focused on the the climax and they you have a few chapters to resolve any lingering storylines. TV shows are the same. Even episode to episode, the narrative is driving toward one specific point and then you get a scene or two of resolution. Season/series finales are a little different, in that you can probably expect ten minutes of resolution instead of two. (Or five seconds in the case of Castle, you wanna talk unsatisfied???? This still makes me mad.)

We have FIVE seasons of Emma and Killian moments. FIVE FREAKING SEASONS! That is fantastic. But this has always been a plot driven show, even from the beginning (I know, I sound like a broken record). 

This isn’t Bones or Grey’s Anatomy, those shows are character driven, the plot takes aback seat to character journey. That’s not Once. The characters are fantastic and interesting and fleshed out, but when you pit plot against character, plot is gonna win just about every time. Most scenes tie into the plot somehow (everyone is free to disagree with me). 

You aren’t going to get a lot of quiet, character moments–in fact, in my experience when things start seeming quiet and settled in anything plot driven (so in most things) that is when YOU SHOULD START FREAKING THE HECK OUT because something big and bad is about to go down. And you’re probably gonna cry…and want to throw the fucking book across the room (I’m looking at you Veronica Roth).

I think fan fiction has spoiled us. Fan fiction lets you explore those character moments. It lets you have lazy scenes. It lets you delve behind the scenes. But fanfic writers don’t have to answer to anyone but themselves. They don’t have publishers or networks breathing over their shoulder. We can experiment more, because there are no consequences if we fail. That’s why it takes industries so long to change. 

So the deal is, common writing practice (that has sold books and movies and TV shows) is to hold out for the denouement until really close to the end. That is exactly what they’re doing. (Plus we know there is at least one more CS episode, this isn’t like with Robin, they have plans to bring Emma back, they just have to work with what Jen wants.)

Title: Metallic pt. 9

Genre: Angst

Pairing: Jumin Han x MC/Reader/You

a/n❗️ have fun reading, everyone!! this is the part 9 of Metallic!
also for those who have messaged me throughout the waiting for the updates and took their time to show support, thank you so much! i love all of you! you know who you are guys. pls never forget that ♡ 

also on the side note, will be opening up requests again next week~ please do request fluffy hcs/fics. i’ll try to balance out the angst this blog has lolol
Part 8.

Disclaimer❗️ this prompt is based on days 7 - 9 of Jumin’s route but i took it from there. fic might contain themes that is not suitable for some audiences. you’ve been warned!

update mentions❗️
@the-sloth-woman ;; @yuri-luciel ;; @ell3nj0y ;; @yoruwasu ;; @jetblckcrow ;; @thewibblywobblyfamilybusiness ;;

❝ Why don't I like the girl I see?
The one who's standing right in front of me.
Why don't I think before I speak?
I should have listened to that voice inside me.
I must be stupid, must be crazy, must be out of my mind...
To say the kind of things I said last night;

Mirror mirror hanging on the wall,
You don't have to tell me who's the biggest fool of all...
Mirror mirror I wish you could lie to me... ❞

“ … Congratulations, Ms. (Y/N). We have decided to let you go home and continue the evaluation of your situation at your house. We figured that the hospital environment might just strain you more.” You only stared blankly at your sheets as you listened to the doctors, Jaehee taking down notes of each important details about the order. “I adviced Ms. Kang to stay with you so we can monitor you further. We believe she’d be the perfect one to the job.”
Your eyes drifted over Jaehee who was concentrating upon the words of the doctors and when she noticed you looking at her, she graced you with a reassuring smile. You sighed to yourself because you’d be bothering her over her busy schedule. She is tired enough everyday and now you’re going to be babysitted by her — doesn’t she ever get mad? These things are just suddenly thrown on her already full plate…

“Alright, I will. Thank you for believing in me, Doctor.” You heard her say just as she stood up to have a formal handshaking gesture with the doctors – much like closing a deal. “I’ll take good care of her.”

Few more words were exchanged and then they were gone. You heard you can be discharged tomorrow morning that’s why this afternoon, your dextrose would be removed since only ¼ of the entire bottle remains. You only need to finish it and then you’re good to go.
Jaehee shuffled on her feet as she went over to the far side of the room, in front of a closet and slowly picked your clean hanged clothes and folded it neatly so she can place them inside the duffel bag she brought with her earlier.

Jaehee is such a good, caring person. Despite everything, she have always voluntarily aided you through your hospitalization. She was a very good friend for you since the beginning. You bit your lip at this — she did not deserve any of this. You, being a burden to her, and whatever might have happened during the course of the days since you had no clue whatever it was that happened during the RFA Party.
And that’s when an idea lit up inside your head.

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kitalene  asked:

Greetings *curtsies* I was just wondering if you could tell me about the publishing process of a book. I am hoping to be an author in future and I was just wondering if you could tell me anything, if you know anything. I'm only asking because I've looked it up and I still don't quite understand it :/

*Curtsies* Hi. So, it’s definitely something I have a better handle on than some simply because I’m in the middle of the process. There’s an explanation of literary agents and how they work here and a step by step process of how to go about getting one here (and there’s even more under the literary agents tag).

But here’s what happens after you’ve signed with an agent, because I don’t think I’ve done a blow-by-blow of that:

  1. Revise. Chances are your agent will have some thoughts about what you need to fix in your manuscript before you submit it to editors. I did three different drafts between querying and submission, but it’ll vary from agent to agent and book to book. 
  2. Submit. This is the part where you sit back and let your agent do the work. Your agent will probably ask if you have any specific imprints or editors you’d like them to look at, and they’ll probably ask for your approval of the final list, but that’s about all you do as the writer once your agent deems your MS worthy of submission. Usually how this works (again, depending on the book, depending on the agent), is that your agent will submit to editors and imprints at the Big Five publishers. If nobody bites, they’ll do a second round of submission with smaller publishers and so on. If they can’t get any interest, then the two of you will put your heads together, revise, and try again. My agent submitted my book to sixteen different editors in the first round and amazingly one of them wanted it so we never had to move past step one. (Your agent may also submit to international publishers once an English-language deal is struck, and the whole process will start again overseas.)
  3. Strike a deal. When an editor’s interested in your manuscript, they’ll talk to the agent first and then ask to talk to the author. I spent ninety minutes on the phone with the lovely lady who is now my editor, talking about what she liked about the book and what kind of revisions she was interested in. Everything she said make perfect sense–there were even a few suggestions she made where I went, “Holy hell, how did I not think of that myself?”–and I had a really great feeling about her. Ordinarily at this point if the editor is still interested after talking to the author (you have to make sure you’re going to get along), s/he and the agent will begin negotiating terms. If more than one editor is interested, the agent negotiates with all of them and the book goes to whoever is offering the better deal. Our situation was a little different because my editor actually pre-empted my book, which means they make an immediate offer on it and you have to close by the end of the business day and withdraw your other submissions; but that’s not something we really need to get into.
  4. Guess what? Revise again. Fixing books is what editors do, and they’re going to have a lot of (good) input about your manuscript. So you as the author will get all their notes, make your changes, and turn them in. Repeat this process until both parties are satisfied and you’re within the deadline specified in your contract. 
  5. Design. These things can happen sort of simultaneously, but once the text is approved, the next step is design. This includes everything from cover art to font usage. As the author you don’t get a whole lot of say in this–you get to provide opinions but the final decision usually rests with the publisher. This is one of those reasons to be sure you have an editor you really like and get along with; they’re your advocate in-house.
  6. Publicity. Art without an audience is pretty pointless. So the next step is marketing. Once all the design is done, paperback ‘galley’ copies will be printed and distributed to readers and reviewers in order to (1) get blurbs and (2) drum up interest. In the meantime, it’s in the author’s best interest to be talking about their book as much as possible both online and off and getting people excited for the release.
  7. BAM. You have a book. Most likely a hardcover, with a paperback to be released a year later. But the work isn’t done–once your book is out there you have to keep promoting it, because as callous as it sounds, sales are important. 

Obviously the whole process isn’t so simple that seven bullet points on Tumblr can really do it justice, but that’s the idea. The last thing I’ll say is this–it’s totally smart to do your research and make sure you understand the process, but don’t jump the gun. Worry about the writing first. You should only start thinking about agents when you’ve written a few novels (not just one) and you have one that you think is really worth a reader’s time, and you’ve done a dozen drafts of it. Writing takes time and rushing it never ends well. Once you’re ready–really ready–you can start doing your research and worrying about query letters. 

hungry-chopsticks  asked:

Wow! They are all so interesting! Did you create the idea by yourself or did you pull from mythology and mix it with your ideas? Do you have any tips for those just starting to make OCs?

Anonymous asked: hey uh I love your art and ocs (i really like their colours and such.) I want to get into the whole ‘making ocs’ thing but I’m not that confident in them? Is there a process you go through when you make yours or do you just kind of go for it. I’m sure this sounds silly, but I feel a bit stumped.

((I saw this in my drafts and nearly screamed because I hadn’t published it yet. I’m going to go ahead and do that now pairing it with an anon ask I received yesterday. I am SO UTTERLY SORRY. ))

Under this cut there are a few tips to get started! As well as an example of how a few of my characters have grown.  I’m no expert and if you guys don’t find this helpful I encourage to go out and look into it more!

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apocalypsecastiel  asked:

Could you rec any mpreg fics please? I don't mind whether it's caused by omegaverse or other reasons. (Also, I would truly love it if you could possibly find your way to doing some more lambverse, it's completely my favourite AU ever) thankyou!

Gladly! ♥

Just let me know what you’d like to see in lamb!Verse :3

Below the cut is a selection of Mpreg stories of the pregnant!Cas kind! 

(There’s also a lamb!Verse Mpreg story if you feel up to that~)

Keep reading

So I just published a fic on ff.net...it's short so I thought I'd share it with y'all

Title: This Lovebug Again

Pairing: Destiel

Word Count: Around 1,700

Tags: (T Rating) Fluff, fluff, and more fluff; Awkward Sam; Oblivious Castiel; Human Castiel

A/N: This was a prompt fic :) Fair warning, I wrote the words “Lovebug” and my mind immediately went to the Jonas Brothers song by the same name (Sorry not sorry, I’m a child of the Jonas Brothers era) and couldn’t stop myself from inserting a few lyrics here and there. (Disclaimer: neither the Supernatural characters nor the Jonas Brothers Lyrics are mine)

Also, this fic takes place around season 8 (because I like to pretend that season 9 never happened). Cas is human, I guess I’m gonna say Cas never had sex with April, everyone’s happy about life for once…

Prompt text: Okay, so maybe cas notices how he starts to feel around dean, but doesn’t know it’s because he’s in love so he goes to Sam. Tells him about how his heart starts beating faster, those butterflies in his stomach and sometimes he gets hard;) just make it awkward for poor sammy and then ofc Destiel fluff:3


“Sam, why do you and Dean never see doctors?”

As per usual, Sam hadn’t heard Castiel enter the room, and the sudden gravelly voice behind him almost made him spill his coffee all over his lap.

“Dean is right, we definitely need to get you a bell,” he said, reaching over to place his coffee mug on a coaster. Cas wandered into his line of sight, moving to the armchair across from Sam and sitting cross-legged in it. He was wearing Dean’s AC/DC shirt and sweatpants—which were also probably Dean’s, given that the bottoms were folded over a few times and they looked kind of ratty.

They’d gotten the ex-angel his own clothes, of course, but he always seemed to opt for Dean’s. A habit Dean, surprisingly, never mentioned. If Sam so much as borrowed a tie, the older Winchester grumbled about it for days.

“We go to the Doctor’s if we absolutely have to, but otherwise it’s just an unnecessary hassle, you know? We have to fake identities, medical insurance, you get the idea,” Sam said. He chuckled. “Uh, every so often, Dean will see a Doctor to check for um…” he stopped himself, seeing Castiel’s open, curious expression, “uh, stuff.”

Castiel’s brows furrowed and he opened his mouth as if to ask.

“But anyways, if it’s not an emergency, we know some people in the hunting community who went to med school, and for other stuff we just use Web MD…uh, why do you ask?”

“I think I may be ill,” Cas said seriously.

“Oh,” Sam set aside his book, resting his elbows on his knees to look at Cas more intently. The ex-angel looked perfectly healthy, but then, Sam had no idea what the issue was. “What are your symptoms?”

Taking a deep breath, Cas thought it through. “Shortness of breath, dizziness, occasional headaches. Sometimes my heart starts beating faster for no discernable reason, um…” Cas shifted in his seat, glancing at the ground. A blush rose to his cheeks.

Oh boy. If it made Castiel uncomfortable, it really couldn’t be good. “Cas?”

“I get, um, erections whenever I—”

“Okay! Got it!” Sam stopped him, laughing nervously. He felt heat rising to his own cheeks.

“You can see why I didn’t want to talk to…to Dean about this,” Cas blushed.

“Yeah,” Sam smiled a little more sympathetically, “Okay, well believe it or not, the last part is actually, um, something you just have to deal with being, uh, you know, a human male and not actually something you have to worry about—”

“They’re frequent. And persistent.”

Sam frowned. “Okay, okay…give me a minute to think. Does your left arm ever hurt? Or does it ever feel like there’s a heavy weight settling on your chest?” Maybe all the red meat was finally getting to him and it was a heart thing? Dean wasn’t exactly teaching the ex-angel healthy eating habits.

“No,” the other man said thoughtfully.

“Okay, maybe it’s not a heart thing. Do you know if Jimmy had any health conditions or anything before you, uh…”

“Took the reins?” Cas supplied, smiling slightly. He shook his head. “Aside from a weak left ankle, Jimmy was perfectly healthy.”

Sighing, Sam ran his hands through his hair. He tucked a strand behind his ear and frowned. “Believe it or not, Dean may be better suited to figure this out…he’s the one that watches all the medical shows.”

“I don’t know how accurate the ‘medical shows'—” Cas brought out the air quotes, “—Dean watches are.”

“Fair point. Any other symptoms?”

“Oh! Yes. There’s always a strange feeling in my stomach. It’s difficult to explain…it’s almost a— he tilted his head to the side, squinting, "tingling?”

“Does it hurt?” Sam asked, a line appearing between his eyebrows.

“No,” the ex-angel shook his head slowly. “Like I said, it’s hard to describe.”

“But you’re feeling it right now?”

“No. I only experience the symptoms several times a day, and they usually only last a few minutes, but it depends…”

Sam rubbed at his eyes. “Wait. Hang on. The stomach thing—is it a nervous feeling? Sort of like there’s a ton of butterflies flying around in your stomach?”

Cas gave him a peculiar look. “That’s an odd way of describing it, but yes, I suppose.”

“What? No, it’s an expression…You know, 'butterflies in your tummy?’”

“Um…right. So this is a common phenomenon?”

Sam sank his face into his hands. “I do not get paid enough to deal with this,” he grumbled to himself. “Yeah, Cas. It’s pretty freaking common. I’m sure I don’t want to know the answer, but what are you…uh, thinking about when these symptoms act up?”

“Thinking about?” Castiel’s face scrunched up for a moment. But then the lines cleared away, replaced by a worried look. “Dean. It always happens when I’m with Dean.”

“Oh God,” Sam said, slapping a hand over his eyes. This situation couldn’t be any more awkward. “I figured as much.”

“Sam,” Cas asked with a note of panic, eyes impossibly wide, “Is it possible to be allergic to a person?”

Sam snorted. “You’re not allergic to Dean, Cas.”

“Oh,” the angel sighed, visibly relieved. “Do you know what’s wrong with me, then?”

“Yeah, I do,” Sam said, allowing himself a small smile, “Cas. I’m afraid you have a little something called a love bug.”

Cas frowned. “Is that a real malady?”

“No, its—” Sam sighed. No one understood his sense of humor. “You love him, Cas,” Sam said slowly, articulating every word.

Cas nodded just as slowly. “Yes.”

“No,” Sam sighed, cutting him off. Why did he always get stuck explaining all the awkward stuff to Castiel? Dean got to explain the fun stuff, like driving and food and movies, and then Sam was stuck with things like health issues and bowel movements and boners. “It’s different with Dean. You know it is. Cas you're—and I can’t believe I have to say this—you’re, you know, reacting to Dean's…physical presence. If you get what I’m saying.”

“Oh,” Cas said, nodding and clearly not understanding.

“You don’t get it.”


“There’s family love, but then there's…uh, romantic love.”

“Sam,” Cas interrupted, rolling his eyes. “I know what you mean, and I’m well aware of my feelings for your brother. But I don’t see what this has to do with my illness?”

“You—you know? Why haven’t you said anything to him?” Sam asked, almost forgetting the awkwardness of the situation.

“He doesn’t feel the same way, Sam. He couldn’t,” Cas sighed. “Besides, Dean is thoroughly heterosexual.”

“Okay, first of all, trust me: Dean isn’t as straight as he seems. I know from several horrifying, scarring incidents when we were younger,” Sam said, scrunching up his nose. “And another thing. Cas, we stay in a lot of motel rooms, and the wall between the room and the bathroom isn’t as thick as Dean wants to think. Believe me when I say he feels the same way.”

“Really?” Cas asked, perking up for the first time since the conversation started.

“Yeah, man,” Sam laughed.

“I really like him, Sam,” Cas gushed. “I can’t get his smile out of my mind, and…I think about his eyes all the time. He’s so beautiful, Sam, but he doesn’t even try…I just…” Cas sighed dreamily.

“Wow. You are completely head over heels, aren’t you?” Sam asked, part of him happy for the two idiots but another part of him wanting to sink into the couch when he remembered that Cas was talking about his big brother.

Cas frowned. “I don’t understand that expression.”

Sam huffed and rolled his eyes. “Course you don’t.”

Castiel’s frown deepened. “None of that will matter if I end up hospitalized and die in a few months from an unidentifiable disease.”

“Geez, you’re a melodramatic human,” Sam rolled his eyes. “You’re not sick, Castiel. It’s just—” Sam thought he might gag, “—sexual and emotional…um…reactions, you know? There are songs about it, and books, and movies.”

“I see. I’d almost rather be allergic to him. It would be less confusing.”

Sam laughed.

“Who are you allergic to?” a gruff voice asked from behind Sam. Sam snorted at Castiel’s expression—the man’s eyes grew comically wide and his cheeks turned a shade almost tomato-red.

“No one,” Cas said quickly, eyes pleading silently with Sam, who was shaking with laughter.

“Uh…okay?” Dean said, popping something in his mouth and dropping onto the couch next to Sam. “Whatcha talking about, then?”

“Cas thinks he’s sick,” Sam said, smirking just slightly at Castiel. The ex-angel narrowed his eyes at the younger Winchester.

“What?” Dean demanded, hopping off the couch and making a beeline to his angel’s side. He pressed the back of his hand to Cas’ forehead, hesitating only a second before dropping it to his cheek. “You don’t have a fever.” He sat on the armrest, angling his body toward Cas so he could look in the ex-angel’s eyes. “Are you, like flu sick, or sick sick? I could make you tomato soup, if you’d like.”

“Thank you, Dean,” Cas said, smiling sweetly up at his hunter. “But I don’t think it’s that kind of sickness.” Cas turned to say something to Sam, but Dean caught his chin and forced the ex-angel to look up at him.

“Hey, look at me, man. What’s going on?”

Castiel’s eyes widened and he tugged his chin away gently, looking at Sam. “Sam—”

“What’s wrong, Cas?” Sam asked innocently, raising his eyebrows and trying to keep the grin off his face. “Are your symptoms acting up?”

“Okay. I feel like I’m missing something here,” Dean said, looking pathetically confused and dejected. Sam decided it was probably time to clue him in.

“Cas, would you like to tell Dean what I told you?” Sam asked, smirking at Cas.

“Sam says I have something called a…” Cas shot Sam a final glare, “…a lovebug.”

Dean blinked down at him for a couple seconds. “A…what? Are you freaking kidding me right now? Dammit, guys! I nearly had a freaking heart attack! Wait…a what? Did you just say—did he just say lovebug?”

Sam grinned, thoroughly enjoying himself. “His symptoms: butterflies in his tummy, heart beating a little faster, weak at the knees…final diagnosis: Cas is in love.”

Sam almost regretted the teasing when he saw Dean’s expression. The poor guy looked like he’d been shot. No, Sam had seen him after he’d gotten shot. This was worse. Dean turned to Cas. “With who?” he asked quietly.


“And that’s my cue to leave,” Sam said, getting up and leaving before the love confessions could start. “And, uh, congratulations, you two, but please try not to be too loud when you, uh… you know.”

Don't Let Publishing Make You Hate Writing

This took me some time to figure out. Maybe I’m still figuring it out. When I started writing I loved it so much nothing else mattered. You could even say I was an addict. I would get high on my own little world inside my head and all the imaginary people that lived there.

And then I started trying to get published. It’s a long story, so imagine a movie montage with sad music as a writer slaves over a typewriter and rips up rejections over the course of five years. It didn’t happen over night, but by the time I finally got that book deal I was pretty sure I hated writing. I wondered if I really wanted to be an author because writing felt like torture.

It’s been three years since that sale now. Just over one year since my first novel came out (TRANSPARENT, May 21, 2013 [I will always remember that date]). Somehow I have four novels published now, and three more on the way within the next year (some traditionally pubbed, and some indie). So there was a point where I had to admit to myself there was something I liked about writing still, even though it felt very much like hate most of the time. Otherwise I am just a serious masochist.

One day, I started to make a list of the things that make me feel icky about my writing—feeling like my work isn’t marketable enough, knowing my publisher doesn’t value my work as much as other authors, getting subsequent novels turned down by my agent/editor, knowing my career wasn’t guaranteed ever, facing the fact that I can’t live off my meager profit, bad reviews sent right to me, feeling like I’ll never write anything better or publishable again, comparing myself to other authors, not getting tours/co-op/any marketing really, not hitting bestseller lists, etc.

As this list continued, it took a long time to actually get to something I don’t like about the actual writing process. I don’t love edits…but I’d take editing over like ALL of those things listed above.

That’s when it hit me—it’s not writing I dislike, it’s publishing politics.

Writing? I still love writing. Clearly I must if I keep doing it through all the rejections and obscurity and politics. I love creating a world and the characters that go in it. I love exploring conflict and building a plot. I love writing dialogue. I love making my characters face their biggest fears and seeing them survive and fight. I love hitting 100 pages and the feeling of accomplishment when I finish a first draft. I love watching that draft become shiny and strong in edits. I love holding all that work in my hands in the form of a book.

I’ve been trying to focus on that love lately. Trying to focus just on my writing. It’s helped a lot with my mood. I’m happier. I like being an author more. The publishing side is hard and ugly for pretty much everyone, so it’s not really worth dwelling on how tough it is. It’s not worth it to compare and wish for something you don’t have when you can keep producing stories.

At the end of the day, don’t forget that’s why you’re here: For the stories.

Best Laid Plans

Where do I start?

I almost feel like I need to apologize for what I’m about to tell you, or at the very least, waffle on a bit and lead into this news gently.

Maybe do a good news/bad news post? My life seems to be a series of good news/bad news lately.

This past weekend was the happiest I had been in a long time. It was an epic weekend. First I got my visa, then I booked my plane ticket to England and then I got an email that an essay I had written was being slated for publication! I was a giggling, overjoyed mess, which led me to stop and think, “Wait a minute. There’s still a shoe waiting to be dropped somewhere. I can feel it!”

And then I got my biopsy results on Monday.

I said I was confident that everything would be fine. I was lying. There was a rather large part of me that knew when the doctor called on Monday that it wouldn’t be what I wanted to hear.

And so I sat in my car in the driveway while my doctor confirmed that I do in fact have oral cancer.

*this is where we all take a break and have a manic laugh because seriously how is this my life?* My mom even said, “Amy, at this point people are going to think you’re making all this up. It’s too unreal.”

Apparently, I’m an anomaly as the odds for someone my age and lifestyle getting this type of cancer are 1 in 2 million or something ridiculous like that. In fact, when I met with my oncologist (I have an oncologist?! Wut?) his first words when he saw me were, “Wow, you’re young.” It’s funny because I argued, “I’m not *that* young.” And then I realized, he wasn’t talking about my age in relation to normal timelines, but my age in reference to having old lady cancer.

With humor in my voice, I said to the oncologist, “I hope you’re as good as I’ve heard because I’m leaving for England in a couple weeks.”

He looked me dead in the eye and shook his head no. Finally, he said, “You’re not going anywhere.”

I spent the next 5 minutes engaged in negotiations with him over treatment, which country I’d be living in, visa considerations, and remedies for my “absent” husband that I was supposed to get to see in a matter of weeks.

He stared at me in amusement and admitted this was the first time in his 18-year career that he’d been in this situation - a new cancer patient intent on leaving the country. In the end, he agreed if I promised to fly home every 4-6 months for a follow-up appointment then he would treat me.

When this post gets published, I’ll be getting a CT scan of my chest and neck (I’m writing this on Wednesday afternoon.) Then I’ll have surgery next Friday, the 10th to remove the cancer. As of now, I will NOT have to go through chemo or radiation. See? Just mini cancer. No big deal.

If you’re calculating the dates in your head, you’ll know that leaves me 3 days to recover and get on a plane for England, which means you’ve probably figured out that the Bad news of this post isn’t that I have cancer, but that I had to cancel my move to England. For now.

But, remember what I always say about silver linings? Mine comes in the form of a wonderful husband who will be on a plane this Sunday to spend the entire month of October with me while I go through this and recover.

We’re hoping things will be settled enough so I can go back with him at the end of October.

I debated putting this information out there, but in the end I decided I needed to share it here for reasons:

  1. Writing is my outlet
  2. Tumblr friends are awesome friends
  3. Feeling guilt over friends and family setting up GoFundMe to expedite the visa when I can’t even use it right now*
  4. Eventual suspicion about why I wasn’t in England when I said I’d be
  5. I’m terrible at asking for help and support and I pretend I can do it all on my own
  6. I’ve shared every major facet of my life on here, why not this?

So to recap:

  • Bad news: I have cancer.
  • Good news: Phil will be here Sunday for a month!
  • Bad news: my insurance sucks. CT scan will cost $500 alone. Do not want to think about actual surgery & hospital stay costs…
  • Good news: my cancer is extremely curable.
  • Bad news: I’ll be on a liquid diet.
  • Good news: But I’ll lose weight! (Too soon?)
  • Bad news: I had to cancel my trip to England.
  • Good news: I’m getting healthy so I can live in England cancer free.
  • Good news: I’ll be here for Halloween & my sister’s party!

Bad news: 4; Good news: 5 - HA, I win!

Thank you, if you have read this, aka the longest post ever documented on tumblr. I’m grateful for all of you - your abilities to pray, send well wishes, make me laugh and for giving me a stellar community I can reach out too.

All my love xx

*There was my blessing. My original moving date was October 2nd. Had the visa arrived when it was supposed to (Thanks, UPS!) I would be getting on a plane TODAY with cancer and headed to a country that would give me the side eye when I lumbered up to the NHS and said, “I’m here! What can you do for me?” Awkward international relations, anyone?

Please note: If we’re friends on Facebook, please keep the comments vague as I’m not broadcasting it on there. Tumblr will allow me to feel normal, Facebook “friends” will not. I’m exhausted just thinking about the “How are you feeling today, Amy?” posts to my wall… I just can’t.

Norman Bates 2.0?: A Deep* Look into Mako.

We polled 100 regular people JUST LIKE YOU about what came to mind when they thought of our favorite detective, and the responses were overwhelming.

But we here at the Center for Something think everyone’s missing the big picture. It’s absolutely no secret in fanon (and in canon) that people view Mako as the “mother figure.” Let me regale you with some actual, canon moments.

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