#I’ve been meaning to draw him again for AGES esp since I’m writing him again. here you fucking go everyone.

[canisonicscrewyou]

I’m not going to ask if this is anything because this has been everything to me for like 10 years now.

Whoever first started tossing around the fan theory around season 5 or 6 that Rory Williams was actually the Master in a fobwatch, I owe you my life, and you owe me years in therapy bills.

But now I’m actually in the beginning process of plotting out a cohesive(ish) fanfic* using my Rory/Darvill!Master, and maybe that plus drawing my self-diagnosed Pretty Boy will help get the fungi out of my brain (<- impossible)(<- the fungus is now a load-bearing part of my brain.)

*(in which the Master gains enough control+consciousness to… kind of put Rory in the fob(wrist)watch and like, he COULD probably just open the watch. But now Rory’s stubborn, and he can see what will happen, and he can use Rory as some kind of hostage, and… he’s kind of fond of him after like, a thousand and thirty some years, technically. Hence giving Rory a body+voice through a TARDIS hologram port.)(probably. it’s an early WIP for a reason.)

[mrslilyrogers]

All I Have To Do Is Dream

Pairing: Steve x Reader, Telepath! Reader (X-men reader)

Summary: It’s been five years since the snap. You and Steve are stuck at an impasse. You want a family, he doesn’t. He says he’s moved on but has he really? With your doubts growing, you consider risking his trust and use your powers on him to get your answers once and for all. 

Author’s note: I know I’ve been gone for so long, I’m sorry!! I loved these requests and decided to merge them together. Took a while to write, I haven’t had much inspiration. I’ll keep this short and hope you enjoy this!! Let me know what you think!  

Requests: hi!! first of all i adore your writing (esp. betrayal)!! id willingly chop two of my limbs in exchange of ur writing skills hahah!! can you maybe write a oneshot similar to take my breath away, and the reader and steve are dating, but they’re actually in steve’s dream(like in age of ultron) and she is sad that steve’s still hasn’t moved on from peggy?? and can you make it extra angsty?? sorry if this is too much hehe!! thanks btw :))

Hmmm maybe angst w/ Steve or Bucky where a misunderstanding/bad fight leads to the reader leaving the team?

“Damn it, Steve! Would you just listen? Where the hell are you even going?” your voice boomed around your small apartment as you breathed harshly, trying your best not to pull your hair out of frustration. 

At first, it had all been just petty disagreements, you and Steve letting off some steam after the snap happened. You had thought it was normal at the time, a coping mechanism that needed to be flushed out of your systems never expecting that it would last for as long as it has. Five freakin’ years. By now, you would’ve thought you’d realize how lucky you were to still be alive, to still be together while others couldn’t say the same. And yet...

“Geez, Y/N. I am! For the past 30 minutes! And I’m telling you now what I’ve told you from the start,  I am not ready! You gotta give me more time, doll.” He replied, his voice just a tad calmer than yours but you didn’t miss the tick in his jaw as he walked out of your shared room, shrugging into his jacket. You knew his anger was just brewing inside, ready to attack if you pushed just a little bit harder. After countless back-and-forths, this had become a routine between the two of you with Steve always taking the role of the aggrieved party, ending arguments with an exasperated sigh and a roll of his eyes before he walked away, deciding he had something better to do with his precious time than fight with you. While you, on the other hand, always found that more infuriating, making you impatient and mean, baiting and nagging him until you wouldn’t even recognize the shrill and whine to your own voice.

“And when would that even be? It’s been five years since the snap. When will—”

“Don’t you dare bring that up!” his voice rose, eyes glaring at you as he whirled around, his jaw clenched. “Don’t use that excuse on me, you know damned well I know it. Why do you think I chose to move on and be with you instead of helping Nat bring them all back, hmm?” He continued mockingly as if you were stupid enough not to understand. 

This was it, what all your petty arguments had narrowed down into;

Despite what he said, he still wasn’t ready to settle down. 

“But what the hell are we doing now, Steve? We’re not getting any younger! I want to have kids, a family, with you!” You knew you sounded pathetic, and desperate all at the same time but you couldn’t help but continue, the pretty picture already clouding your brain, 

“Can’t you see it? Having children of our own, their drawings hung up on the walls, the dog you’ve been wanting to have since forever running around the house, family barbecues...” your voice trailed off, a lump forming in your throat, your eyes glazing over with unshed tears. It was all within your grasp, so easily reachable if only Steve agreed with you. If only he wanted it too. Anger bubbled up to the surface while he bristled, looking annoyed. 

 “We can have all of that, you know. What are you even waiting for? Will you ever be ready? Because it really feels like you won’t and I’m the only one who actually wants this,” You were unrelenting, thinking of Tony Stark’s family, how they had gone off the grid and had their own little piece of heaven. Crossing your arms, you knew you wouldn’t achieve anything by becoming a nag but your patience was already wearing thin. 

“Jesus, Y/N! Why would you even say that? Of course I want a family with you! I’m just not ready for that yet! Just give me more time,”

Shaking your head, you let out a defeated sigh and looked away from him. You could hear him grabbing the keys from the counter, exhaling loudly before he went up to you and ran his hands down your arms soothingly, willing you to understand. When you didn’t budge, he just pleaded as he always had, 

“I love you, you know I love you. But I need to get to this meeting, those people need me, Y/N. Could we please just talk about this later?” He moved his head lower to meet your eyes and even in your state of anger, you knew you couldn’t say no to that. He took your begrudged nod as an assent, kissing your forehead before he turned to leave. What else were you going to say anyway? He was going to lead a therapy session for people who had lost their loved ones. Guilt ate at you for keeping him here when he so desperately wanted to save the world. People needed him too, not just you. They hung on his every word. They needed their Captain America, their symbol of hope. While, here you were, acting like a child because he wouldn’t let you have your way. 

Letting out another sigh, your gaze stuck to the floor, berating yourself at how selfish you’d become. You knew what you were getting into when you dated him. You had no illusions of being the center of his universe, it was always going to be the people. But still, it would’ve been nice to be put first for once. You hated the tandem feelings of jealousy and guilt that always crept up on you after your fights. You just wished he understood that while those people needed their hero, you needed your Steve too. But as time passed, it seemed like the man and the hero were indistinguishable and you’d been deluding yourself into thinking it could be different. You’d just have to accept that too because living without him wouldn’t even be an option. 

He paused by the door, catching sight of your slumped shoulders. “Hey,” he said softly, striding back to you. 

“You know I love you, right?” he stroked your cheeks and you couldn’t help the turn of your lips. Nodding slowly, you rolled your eyes at how easy you were for him. 

 “I know. I’m sorry,” 

Ducking down to give you a quick peck on the lips, he reassured you again, “We’ll talk about this later, I promise,” then he gave you one last kiss to your forehead before he disappeared. But what once would’ve eased your worries did nothing to quell your nerves now. Your heart believed everything was alright but your gut said otherwise. 

_______________

He looked down at the worn, brassy compass in his palm, his mind years away from where he was, unaware that you were standing by the door. You watched his shoulders relax into a defeated sigh, his eyes never leaving her picture. You couldn’t remember when he ever looked at you like that, all the love and longing etched on his face. He brought his other hand up to caress the picture gently, as if he actually imagined she was with him, a small, sad smile forming on his lips. You felt the air knock right out of you while you scrambled out of there feeling as if you’ve intruded on an intimate moment. You couldn’t help the tears falling from your eyes while you convinced yourself it was nothing. He had just lost his best friends, she was a symbol of his past. He just missed that right? 

You paced around the kitchen, your mind running back to the times you’ve caught him staring at Peggy’s picture. All those times you pretended you didn’t notice how frequently he had been doing it these past few years. His voice, an echo in your head, 

“I’m not ready, just give me more time doll, please,” 

Closing your eyes, you buried your face in your hands. Oh, it would be so easy, you thought. All you had to do was get into his mind and see for yourself. One little, fast trip into his thoughts and you’d get your answers. He’d be none the wiser, no one need ever know except you. And your dignity, and your pride and your principles. Ugh.

He trusted you, you promised never to use your powers on him and yet, that was all you could ever think about now. Did he think of her when he thought of the family he wanted? Was it her face he saw, walking down the aisle to him? 

For the first time in your life, you hated your upbringing at the Xavier Institute. You hated the values and principles they instilled in you, the very reason you were adamant not to use your powers on the unwilling and unsuspecting for your own personal gain even though you were going crazy, craving for your own peace of mind. Deep down you knew, promise to Steve or no, you couldn’t go through with it. 

You looked at the clock, thirty minutes to go before his meeting ended. Grabbing your coat from the rack, you impulsively decided to go to him, promising yourself you weren’t going to nag and argue with him but have a normal conversation like you used to. You haven’t had a date in a long while anyway. Maybe a little spark of romance was all you really needed. 

_____________

Your steps echoed on the linoleum floor, walking past the empty hall to follow the directions to the room where the meeting took place. Rubbing your palms together, you spotted the room. The fluorescent lights hanging above casting a lonely pallor to the already gray walls while the rain poured heavily outside. The gloom, an inevitable reminder of what the world has become. It seemed everywhere people went, there was always a reminder of what they’ve lost. Even on an otherwise unblemished sunny day, the vibrancy was not the same, people were scarce and it was quiet. Too quiet. Which was why you were so adamant to continue on living, in order to honor the lives of the people you’ve lost. 

You could hear their faint voices outside the room. Your heart going out to those poor people who still held onto the past while you thanked your lucky stars you still had Steve.You fished for your earphones in your purse trying not to eavesdrop but his clear and deep voice interrupted you. Leaning against the wall opposite the door, you listened, a smile tugging on your lips while he commended the other person. He was always so good with words, always knew the right things to say and that never failed to make you proud. His words of encouragement lifted your spirits, making you stand a little taller, hope blossoming in the pit of your stomach. He talked about moving on, about finding purpose again. 

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,” 

Your whole body went cold, the smile on your lips faltering, your hands suddenly gripping the edge of your blouse while his disheartened voice continued to try to reassure everyone including himself,

“I woke up 70 years later, you gotta move on. You gotta move on,”  

With a hand to your lips, you ran, your rapid, staccato steps filling the hall barely even muffling the sobs you desperately tried to hide. 

___________

Steve didn’t bother coming home straightaway after the meeting.  He told himself it was because he needed to check up on Nat despite the fact that he could’ve easily just called, despite knowing you were all supposed to meet for dinner in a few days anyway. He took his time getting to the Avengers Compound, embracing the uncharacteristic quietness of the city, giving him the chance to be alone with his thoughts. If he were being honest with himself, he couldn’t shake off the guilt that settled at the pit of his stomach at the thought of Peggy. The love of his life. Apparently, anyway. He had no idea where that came from, never really thought of it until it slipped from his mouth. And did he really feel that way? Was she really the love of his life? 

The thought of you came unbidden from his mind, your warm smile waking him up in the morning, your laughter setting the world to rights whenever he was feeling especially out of place. You’ve been through so much together, what you both had was real and it was beyond anything he could’ve imagined when he woke up from the ice and he knew he should take it a step further. He loves you, he is fully committed to you. There was nothing holding him back and yet… and yet, he still thought of her. He couldn’t help but think that if he had only stayed where he really was supposed to be, Peggy would’ve been the mother to his children, she would’ve been his wife. She would’ve been his life’s true love. But the very thought of that put a sour taste to his mouth, the truth was he could never picture his life without you. As much as he still dreamt of the past, how could it be the same if you weren’t there?

At first he thought falling in love with you was a balm to soothe his lost soul until he eventually realized you had crept up on him slowly but in a span of a heartbeat, wormed your way into his heart so suddenly he couldn’t even pinpoint the exact moment he knew he loved you. It was plain and simple, he knew it as he knew the sun rose in the east, he loved you. It was so unlike the way he fell for Peggy where all it took was one look and he was already drunk in love. 

Was it possible then, to be in love with two women? 

________________________________________

You were already in bed when Steve got home, feigning tiredness from the day when your heart was really beating rapidly in your chest. How could you face him now knowing you were second best? You could hear him in the bathroom, oblivious to your inner turmoil. When he was done, he gave you a quick kiss goodnight and went to his side of the bed, his back to you. You turned to face the wide expanse of his shoulders and wondered where the hell do you go from here. Would you really be alright living in the shadow of his ex, one of the world’s most accomplished women, so extraordinary that Captain America couldn’t even move on from her? Could you really leave him if it came down to it? 

A tear escaped the corner of your eye and you laid on your back, the darkness of the ceiling reflecting the heaviness in your heart. You must’ve stared at it for hours, wondering just how far away you were from the man right at your side. He was with you physically but his heart? You always knew deep down, it belonged to someone else. If he had a choice to go back, would he leave you? With the way things were going, you knew he would. In an instant. There was always a part of him that he closed off from you and ever since the snap, it only worsened. The fights, the distance, it all made sense now. Heck, even tonight, he didn’t even bother to ask how you were doing and accepted your lame excuse to get to bed early. It was the weekend, you literally had nothing to do the whole day and yet, it never even occurred to him that something could be wrong. For once, you were sorely tempted to use your powers on him. Hearing his even breathing as he slept didn’t make it any easier. It would be over before he knew it, what would be the harm in that? 

As if on cue, he turned and faced you. His long lashes resting peacefully on his cheeks, his lips slightly parted, he looked like a man who didn’t carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. He looked younger, more like your Steve. The Steve you wished would let you in and give you the family you’ve always wanted. 

“Just a quick little trip, no one would ever know. What would be the harm in that?” the little voice in the back of your head taunted.

What would be the harm in that? 

With your resolve weakening, you jumped right into the abyss, entering the mind of the man of your dreams, hoping you were his too. 

______

The sun shone brightly through the open window, letting in the warm summer breeze while his favorite vinyl record played in the background. 

Kiss me once, then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It’s been a long long time 

The air was crisp and the smell of pancakes and cinnamon wafted from the doorway of the kitchen into the living room of the small, suburban house. The yellow walls were adorned with children’s drawings with a few marker drawings on the wallpaper here and there. The faint sound of giggling could just be heard from where you stood by the stairs. Your children, you thought to yourself, a smile creeping up your lips. This was it. This was what you’ve been picturing too, what you’ve told him countless times over and over again. He dreamed of it too. You turned your attention to the living room, your heart giving a little leap at the mess. It looked like someone had tried to tidy up but gave up on the last minute, some toys still scattered about. You noticed the pet bed by the couch, and you couldn’t help but be excited and hopeful, it was everything you thought of down to a T. You went towards the paper and crayons on the low table between the couch and the fireplace, inspecting one of the children’s current drawings there. It was of a family, their hands holding each other while they smiled in front of the house, a little dog at their father’s side. At the bottom, a scribbly handwriting of a preschooler wrote; Mom, Sarah, James, Dad and directly below the dog, Sam. You laughed aloud at that, clutching the drawing, hoping you could keep it for yourself and willing it into existence. 

“Come on, dance with me,” 

You heard Steve’s playful voice coming from the kitchen. A woman’s laughter rang out, you could just imagine yourself shaking your head at him in response, but something about the woman’s laugh caught you in your tracks. A little too shrill, a little too melodic. You inched closer to the open door, your heart dropping to your stomach. There they were, the picture perfect couple.  He twirled her around, her red dress hugging her curves so effortlessly, while she drew her head back and laughed. The dimples on her cheeks deepening, her curls staying in place even when Steve maneuvered her around. They looked so beautiful together, his golden locks and smitten smile never once leaving her face, he never looked so happy. 

Not even when he was with you.

That realization hit you like a train. You couldn’t even remember the last time he looked at you the way he looked at Peggy now.  When was the last time you danced? When was the last time you acted silly together? When was the last time you were both happy? That was what hurt the most. You couldn’t even remember. It felt like a weird sort of deja vu except now, it was an actual woman instead of a picture on a compass. You tried to gather your pride and step away but you couldn’t, you were rooted into place, a sadistic part of you welcomed the pain because you should’ve known. 

“I went in the ice in ‘45 right after I met the love of my life,” 

You should’ve known.

 But instead, you choose to play the fool.

There must’ve been a shift in the air that only they understood because Steve gathered her in his arms now, their eyes locking into each other, gentle and longing. 

You'll never know how many dreams

I dreamed about you

Or just how empty they all seemed without you

So kiss me once then kiss me twice

Then kiss me once again

It's been a long, long time

He rocked her back and forth, bringing her hand up to his chest, turning into action what words fail to describe. She closed her eyes and laid her head on his heart, savoring their moment. He leaned his head on hers too, a satisfied smile on both their faces as they continued to sway to the music. You had never felt as small as you did now. You felt like a thief, intruding on their moment, stealing his dream away. And that’s exactly what you were doing. That’s exactly what you are. You felt so dirty, a desperate, pathetic fly on the wall he couldn’t get rid of. And worst of all, you destroyed his trust too.

As if on cue, the colors started to change, the song distorting and shifting and in this moment you knew, you had to leave. 

You have to leave. 

Part Two

[lizacstuff]

Anon asks: SCK Fragman 38 speculation

(Asks under the cut)

Anonymous said: Do you think they're getting married this next episode? idk if the tattoos were confirmation

I think it’s possible? But I also think it’s entirely possible that they get the tattoos as a symbol of their love and a promise of sorts that they are through messing around, but they’re not actually married yet.  Frankly, they already gave us all the wedding hoopla with these two, I’m absolutely fine with an elopement or quick courthouse style wedding, or just a couple of witnesses in a garden. Whatever they want! Let’s just get her done.

Also... I know I said it before, but I’m just in love with the idea of these tattoos. Such a great solution to their ring issue. 

Anonymous said: Thoughts on all these twitter theories from the “sick” line in the fragman?

- it’s about piril and engins kid bc basak and anil filmed in the hospital, and piril was hit by a car in 36 and in 37 she had that moment where she clutched her abdomen and had to sit down

- it’s a flashback serkan has to when his brother alp was sick

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal Kemal as his bio dad (blood or organ donation)

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal eda is pregnant when they draw blood from her to donate

That fragman could be hinting at so many things, and it very well could have been misleading. So lets take each theory in turn. 

“it’s about piril and engins kid bc basak and anil filmed in the hospital, and piril was hit by a car in 36 and in 37 she had that moment where she clutched her abdomen and had to sit down”

Very possible. Engin thinking something had happened to Piril two eps ago did feel like foreshadowing, almost preparing the audience for something. It would be so heartbreaking if she loses the baby, and seems too dark for this show, but it is something that happens to millions of women, so we’ll see.

Also can you imagine after the way Piril stuck by Selin, if Piril lost her baby, and she then witnesses Selin using her baby as a pawn to get revenge on Serkan and Eda?  I’d like to see Piril and Engin’s reaction to that. Though again I think that’s pretty dark, especially for the side couple. 

- it’s a flashback serkan has to when his brother alp was sick

I think this is a very good guess. Serkan probably will see a doctor after he passed out, and if it is another panic attack brought on by the stress of losing Eda, I could see a doctor telling him if he wants to move past the panic attacks, he needs to get at the root of his abandonment issues, which all lead back to his brother’s death. That could be why he’s getting out a box of his things and reading that letter.  So I could very well see a flashback happening to Alp’s diagnosis.

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal Kemal as his bio dad (blood or organ donation)

I’m honestly fully onboard with Kemal as Serkan’s bio dad.  I hear a lot of people poopooing the idea because of opportunity, but I think they told us when it could have happened. In their first meeting, (unless my subs were bad) Aydan mentioned that Kemal had returned once to apologize for standing her up when they were young and going to run away together. I assume that was the window. Kemal showed up years later (after Alp was born) to apologize.. they had a fling and there’s the opportunity for Serkan to be his son. 

Though, to me, if they’re doing something with Serkan’s health it’s got to be related to the plane crash. The chest clutching since he’s been back is concerning, plus wasn’t his hand shaking at one point? So I don’t see him having some serious underlying issue that’s unrelated. This guy does not shy away from going to the doctor and was just in the hospital for probably over a month recovering, so you’d think if there was anything wrong before, we’d know it.  Unless the plane crash acerbated something that’s genetic? And/or requires a match like bone marrow or kidney. I suppose they could give Serkan some rare blood type and that would be something applicable to most any ailment. We shall see. 

- serkan is sick and it’s a way to reveal eda is pregnant when they draw blood from her to donate

This one I think is the least likely. It’s been very fuzzy how much time has passed, but at the minimum 3 months since they were supposed to get married and were having sex, so if Eda were pregnant I think she would have noticed the signs by now.  

Anonymous said: Liza, I know they won’t kill Serkan, but could you reassure me that they won’t? I’ve followed you since Once and you were always good at reassuring.

Ha! I remember making lists of all the reasons they would never kill Hook. 

THEY WON’T KILL SERKAN.

And I’m even more certain of this than I ever was of them not killing Hook, and I was damn certain then. 

There is literally not ONE reason for this show to exist without Eda and Serkan. Not one. This is their love story, and really, storyline wise, the show should have ended awhile ago, and the only reason they keep it going is to keep Hande and Kerem on screen together, making their magic. Seriously, that’s the only reason.

You see how Serkan dying would be counter to that, right?  And if the show were about to end, trust me, there is nothing in it for anyone to have a tragic ending. This started as a romantic comedy, and will end as one, with a happily ever after. And if you’re still nervous, trust this, the production company is still hopeful to sell it into even more foreign markets, especially English language ones, a surprise tragic, twist ending that gets vilified on social media (and trust me this fandom is huge, vocal and capable) would really hurt those chances. 

So even if we’re headed into a bad diagnosis for Serkan, he will be fine in the end, it will just be something for him and Eda to fight through. I promise. 

Anonymous said: thoughts on that wonderfully beautiful fragman? i was watching with hearts in my eyes and then read the translations.. poor serkan!! if it really isn't misleading i definitely think it's some consequence of the plane crash. but, we are secure in what kind of show this is and the full knowledge that it's not a drama and no one is gonna actually die, i'm excited for the potential this storyline is gonna give us!! (esp with the return of the old writers)

I can’t wait to see that rain scene, and the after-the-rain scene and their motorcycle ride. The fragman was very beautiful, but it also felt very poignant and a little melancholy.

It’s interesting with the announcement that the second writing team was back, there were tidbits from several legit entertainment-type reporters yesterday that the show was going back to it’s roots being funny and entertaining.  So a terrible diagnosis for one of the current characters, especially the romantic leading man, doesn’t really fit with that. 

It the writers hadn’t changed I’d be more concerned, not about a character dying, just about the show leaning into some big sort of health-related melodrama.  But I think whatever might be happening will be in service to the plot.  As far as Serkan having a health-scare related to the crash, as I said above it’s very plausible. I mean what are the chances that a man survives a plane crash, is fished out of the sea, spends weeks in a hospital, gets amnesia and is perfectly fine 3-4 months later with no other repercussion? Doesn’t seem possible! 

Anonymous said: Liza, the second set of writers is really coming back! We might actually get comeuppance for Selin!

YESS!!!!! Please. I had completely lost hope with the last set of writers who seemed hellbent on normalizing her behavior.  Look I’d be fine with a 3 minute conversation where Serkan tells her that he knows she’s a manipulative liar and the baby is not his, that he wants her out of their lives for good, and that if she ever comes near Eda ever again he will personally destroy her. 

Is that so much to ask?

Though I’d like her to be humiliated in front of the rest of the team. Just so everyone knows what kind of psycho she is and no one in Edser’s orbit is tempted to give her another chance ever again. 

It will be interesting to see how this plays out.  With the news that Sarp Can (Deniz) is COVID positive, he obviously won’t be back on set anytime soon. They could probably get some VO from him if necessary, for a phone convo, but I’m gonna guess he’s done on screen. 

It’s time to write both characters out! 

As for the 22-23, 25-30 writers coming back, that is the best news I’ve had in ages.  They weren’t perfect, but the things they did well, they did really, really well. Their comedy, romantic scenes, heartfelt dialogue, accurate characterizations and penchant for sizzling scenes that “break the Turkish family structure” will all be most welcome. I’m really excited for the first time in ages. 

Anonymous said: Very interesting that the fragman did not address the Selin baby drama at all. It focused solely on Edser which was a welcome change while at the same time has me a bit nervous for the angst & drama no doubt headed our way. But if Eda & Serkan are together for good now to face the challenges coming then I cannot wait to watch. The last episode was so well done but Eda & Serkan were both near their breaking points for different reasons & you just felt awful for both of them. Really glad that the engagement did not happen and the show focused on the fallout from Serkan’s amnesia. And even had the side characters addressing how difficult things have been for Eda and that she might need some time before picking things back up with Serkan! Looking forward to the resolution of the baby story/exit of Selin and seeing Eda & Serkan heal together.

I hope that the fact that nothing Selin-related was addressed in the fragman means that we finally have people in charge who understand that we are so damned fatigued of Selin that featuring her an active deterrent for viewers.  Also I haven’t seen any evidence that Bige has been on set for 38. That doesn’t mean she hasn’t, it’s still possible, but it is encouraging that the ep will be  light on Selin. 

As far as the drama and angst, I think there’s more headed our way, however I’m hopeful it will be the good kind and not the kind that made us really uncomfortable and want to tear our hair out during the Selin/Deniz era. We know that Eda and Serkan must decide to stay together (spending time together, ring finger tattoos) so the point of the pregnancy storyline is done. When Eda found out Selin was pregnant, it gave Selin the chance for one last Hail Mary pass, and she took it, trying to break them up, but it failed. So it’s usefulness is over. She can’t keep the charade going because of Deniz, and because once Serkan has time to calm down and think, he’ll realize that any time in Slovania where he was so injured that it’s possible he doesn’t remember, he also would have been too physically incapacitated to do anything of the sort. 

As for Eda needing some time, yes, things in 36 were just too easy for Serkan in terms of the fallout from his amnesic behavior. Episode 37 made him work for it and I think come to terms with the fact that, Selin manipulations or no, there’s work to do and things he needs to atone for.  Putting her first throughout the episode, and showering her with love, was a good start. 

Anonymous said: The conversations Selin had with Eda, Serkan and Aydan in this episode had my blood boiling. Someone stop this psycho! The unnecessary hole digging was real, my god. I don't care if she's pregnant, don't hold Eda back this time and let her fight this snake. Let everyone fight her! If she's lying to Deniz now, he can fight her too.

I know, she reached new levels of abusive manipulation.  They better be planning a comeuppance, if she’s just allowed to leave with people waving goodbye, I will scream.  The Aydan conversation with her posing the question about abortion was something else. It came across to me more as a threat. Like... I’m thinking about doing this, if you don’t want my decision to be your fault, you better stay on the right side of me. 

The Eda and Serkan stuff goes without saying. It still floors me that she’s willing to pretend like she raped him (if he can’t remember because he was that injured and foggy, then it’s impossible for him to have given consent.) rather than just giving up and living the truth.  

Anonymous said: Like I get it (kind of) but I am so sick of watching Serkan be nice to Selin. Very much looking forward to Serkan chewing her out for how much she hurt Eda with this fake Serkan baby daddy story when she is exposed. I get that Serkan feels he is to blame for calling her to Slovenia in the first place & essentially in his mind giving her hope of them being together but he needs to stop excusing her horrible behavior from there. No decent person would take advantage of that situation the way she did. It seems like the only way that Selin will have an epic fall is if Deniz decides to fight for the kid he knows must be his and tell Eda everything. Going to be tough for her to believe initially but it will have to start making sense once she thinks back on things and then if the photos surface then she will know it must be true.

Agreed. I get Serkan’s guilt, and it actually shows what a good person he is, but he needs to get over it.  Because seriously, all Selin was obligated to do when she got his call was to hang up, and then dial one of the following: his mother, his father, his fiancé or best friend/business partner Engin. That’s it. Call them and say, hey, Serkan’s alive, this is where you’ll find him. But NOPE! Instead she decided to fly there, manipulate him, keep him hidden and try to use it to get back with him. She made him beholden to her, just another in the long line of brainwashing and manipulation. Her flying to his bedside was the wrong thing to do, and it would be great if someone beside Eda recognized that. 

Anonymous said: Even though Selin is the worst and I just cannot wait for her to finally be unmasked as the manipulator she is, I am really looking forward to Edser in the next episode. Eda taking care of Serkan after he passes out, the two of them reaffirming their commitment to each other with the tattoos & possible elopement, Eda reassuring Serkan that she will be at his side even if the kid turns out to be his and also the two of them working together to get to the truth. So darn excited! And if the spoilers are right that Deniz tells Eda the truth and Serkan sees the photos from Ferit then I will be so happy. It is time for Selin to go for good!

SELIN MUST GO. Yes, I think as soon as the news that Selin is pregnant and trying to pass it off as Serkan’s brain-fog baby, Ferit will unleash the photos. (if it’s him that has them).  

I just want Selin and Deniz gone so we can focus on other things. Their presence on this show is a energy drain, and I want to focus on rain frolicking, motorcycles and bed sharing!!!!!  

Anonymous said: I'm so glad that we had a scene of Serkan telling Eda that even without his memories he fell in love with her again, he just couldn't admit it. Serkan has an interesting perspective on the memory loss part of their lives where I think he almost feels too guilty about it all and just wants to move past it. I've noticed that in his dialogues in 36 & 37 where he wants to leave it in the past and basically do his all to make it all up to her in the present and future.

I think this is very well observed. He definitely was trying to leave the past in the past, but honestly I think that’s just laziness on the part of the old writers, not wanting to have to have a reckoning for all the things they had him say or do. Since the writers decided to go that way, I could buy it’s because Serkan feels too guilty about it all. We know how much he loathes making mistakes or being wrong or owing apologies. If that’s what they wanted to do, it would have gone a long way if they’d shown a bit more of him blaming himself, especially in 36. 

I was also very happy that Serkan came out and said that he’s fallen in love with her again. My only thing is I wish if they were going to do that, they would have thrown a little more detail in the dialogue. Like Serkan admitting to her that he started thinking about her all the time as soon as he returned and met her, maybe admit that he slept on his office couch clutching her wedding invitation.  A couple of things like that would have been very nice for Eda to hear. 

Anonymous said: SCK sure loves creating difficult situations for Eda & Serkan. I really felt for Serkan in the last episode especially since he was back to being the romantic robot we all love. He so baldly wants to make up for lost time with Eda that he rushes ahead with the proposal and then gets crushed when she rejects him. And then spends most of the episode frantically trying to figure out what is going on with her and trying to show her how much he loves her. I was really happy though that the show addressed a few different times how awful the last few months have been for Eda and it also made Serkan address it. His plan to just forget about everything and move forward did not happen. Loved that the side characters stepped up to remind him of everything he & Selin put Eda through. Not so crazy that the show decided to use Selin’s pregnancy as the plot device to get Serkan to finally realize “oh yeah, what happened since my accident is a very big deal & now I have to face it & come to terms with it” but still glad it happened. Selin is obviously so much more in the wrong than Serkan but let’s hope her downfall takes place in the next episode.

All of this.  I think you’re exactly right, Serkan tried to brush past everything and I’m glad that finally the other characters stepped up a little to help make him see that he had more work to do. Special shout out to Seyfi for his sassy comment about Serkan almost marrying another woman. And finally Piril was useful and acted like a friend, the first time she had since he returned.  

[stories-you-wont-hear]

– four seasons. | storm

hello friends! this is the second installment of the four seasons mini-series ft. billy russo. i really like y/n and maria’s friendship and tbh they end up getting more time together than the reader and billy but IT’S FINE BY ME! i love reading your comments on this, esp bc it’s pre-anvil billy who is a precious sweetheart.

pls enjoy, and as always, leave lots of love! xoxo mira

tag list: shameless-pope  bellastellaluna  the-scarletsandwich @its-my-little-dumpster-fire

“Mom!” Lisa bellowed, nearly knocking you out as she ran into the kitchen. “Daughter?” Maria called, not moving from her position as her child stood with her hands on her hips staring her down. “Frank keeps taking my headphones! Tell him to stop,” Lisa said, her anger apparent in her tone. “Frank. Stop.” Maria deadpanned, taking a sip from her cup of coffee. You couldn’t help but snort in response to Maria, and Lisa shot you a look of pure hatred for it. 

“Mom!” Lisa cried again, this time dropping her arms as she whined. Maria sighed as she shook her head, “Look, you two need to learn how to sort this out amongst yourselves. I’m not a mediator.” “But you’re our mom,” Lisa exasperated. “And I certainly don’t get paid enough for it,” Maria shot back, her hands cupping her cup of coffee. You cut in, wanting to keep Maria’s stress to a minimum. It had been two months since Frank, and Billy, had left and Maria had been handling the kids on her own.

It was nothing she hadn’t done before, but you knew it was never easy. “Lisa,” you called, “Leave your poor mom alone. I’ll take you shopping on Black Friday for new ones.” Maria rolled her eyes behind Lisa, but the kid was satisfied. She left the kitchen with her mood having taken a complete 180. “I birthed them, feed them, keep a roof over their heads, but alas! It’s Aunt Y/N this, Aunt Y/N that,” Maria sighed. You laughed, your hands cupping your own cup of coffee as you looked over at your friend. “Hey, Black Friday shopping is pretty much the equivalent of going into a warzone,” you called back. Maria held a hand up in surrender, “Touche. I’d never do it.” You nodded, giving her a pointed look, “Yeah, you just shop on Monday from your computer like a coward.”

“Better a wise coward than a foolish knight,” Maria said pointedly, moving to wash out her empty cup in the sink. You stood to wash your own empty cup, handing it to Maria’s outstretched hand but made no movement back towards your seat. “So,” you said slowly, not wanting to let your true intentions out so quickly, “Any word lately from Frank?”

“Why do you ask?” Maria asked, her own voice mirroring your tone. An eyebrow raised, she glanced at you suspiciously. “Just wondering,” you said a little too quickly, “The holidays are coming up, I’m sure they’re missing home.” 

“They’re?” Maria repeated, now fully looking at you. You felt yourself inched slowly away from Maria, who was now leaning against the counter, arms crossed over her chest as she looked at you through a narrowed gaze. “Frank and… Billy and the rest of the good people who risk their lives for the sak-” you blurt before Maria cut in. “You bitch!” she cried, her eyes wide as she caught Billy’s name. “Language!” Frank Jr.’s voice shouted from down the hall upon catching his mother’s curse. 

Maria rolled her eyes before turning her attention back to you, “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me.” You shrugged, playing it off like you didn’t know exactly what she was talking about. “Come on,” Maria said, looking at you expectantly. After a solid minute of silent back and forth, you finally sighed in defeat. “We kissed after the party you guys had over the summer,” you said in a low voice, not wanting Frank Jr. to overhear. “Oh my god,” Maria cried, throwing her hands up, “I know that!” 

You scoffed, knowing Lisa probably spilled the beans the second she saw Billy’s lips brush over your cheek during that Sunday morning breakfast that seemed so long ago. “So then what?” you asked. “That’s what I’m trying to find out, Y/N!” Maria said. 

“There’s really nothing to say other than that,” you explained, “It’s not like he asked me to see him off or write him long, sappy letters.” “Oh, but you should,” Maria said, suddenly moving to place her hands on your shoulders, “You so should.” 

“Geez Maria,” you said as you placed your hands on top of hers, “I so should not be getting into whatever this is. It’s so hard for you and Frank and you guys are so… so solid! Me and Billy? We’re just a few weeks of kisses and back and forth flirting.” 

“Y/N,” Maria started, her voice so firm that you probably would have agreed to almost anything she was about to say, “It’s hard. It’s so hard. It’s so unbelievably difficult. But it’s so worth it. Billy is worth it.” She turned squeezed your shoulders before sliding her hands from under your grip, the softness in her eyes so different from the firmness of her tone but that was Maria for you. 

“Here,” she said, moving away from you to rummage through a kitchen drawer, “We’re going to send Frank a care package, and we always send Billy stuff, too. You should write him a letter.” “I don’t know if that’s such a good idea,” you said nervously, placing one hand on the kitchen counter to steady yourself.

“I promise I won’t read it,” Maria said, holding up the sheets of notebook paper and pen she had managed to find. You took what she was handing out to you, albeit hesitantly. She also found an envelope and put it on the counter next to you, giving you another reassuring look, “Look, Y/N. I can’t tell you what to do. I’m not even going to lie and say that I don’t want this to happen, you and Billy. Because I do. But, I saw the way you were glowing when the two of you were together. You were happy. You deserve to give this a shot, you deserve a chance at happiness.” 

“You should be a motivational speaker, Maria,” you muttered, mustering up a smile to offer in return for her pep talk. “Yeah,” she replied sarcastically, “Once the kids turn 18 and I can quit my day job.” You giggled as Maria slipped past you, giving you privacy to ‘shoot your shot’ according to her.

Dear Billy,

I’m really only writing this because Maria is making me. I mean- I wanted to write to you, but I wasn’t really sure if that’s something you would have liked me to do. I tend to hold myself back a lot because of that. 

But here I am, shooting my shot through the lost art of letter writing as Maria likes to say, the first part at least. By the way, she knows about our… practicing. Lisa is a snitch. Totally not to be trusted.

Things here are pretty normal. Normal as can be. Work is work, and I spend a lot of time with Maria and the kids. I really should get friends my own age. Ha. Well, Maria isn’t that much older than me, but don’t tell her I said that. We’re both 29 until we die. 

The holidays are coming up, Halloween was fun with the kids. Frank Jr. wanted to be a soldier, but he didn’t because Lisa said it wasn’t just a costume, it was something bigger. She’s definitely Frank’s kid. They ended up going as Ghostbusters. And getting their candy confiscated for fighting on November 1st. Yep, definitely Frank’s kids.

I’m probably going to spend Thanksgiving with them. With Frank gone, Maria needs me. The kids like having me here, or maybe it’s just that I make a decent pecan pie. Wish you were here. And Frank too. 

I’ve never really had someone to miss, but I do miss you. Is that cool with you?

Love, Best,

Y/N

And that was that. You folded up the single sheet of paper neatly and slid it into the envelope, sifting through the kitchen drawer Maria had gone through before to find some tape to seal the envelope shut. “Don’t trust my mom?” Lisa called out, drawing your attention to her figure standing by the door. She looked so much like her mom, arms crossed over her chest, but that smile was all Frank. “I honestly don’t trust anyone in House Castle with anything other than my life,” you replied back matter-of-factly. “Good call,” Lisa said with a knowing smile, walking over to lean against the counter near you as you carefully wrote out Billy’s name on the envelope. “I think he’ll write back,” Lisa said simply. You were taken aback by her tone, you blamed the black and whiteness in her perspective on her age. It seemed so simple to kids, kiss a guy and bam, you’re together. It wasn’t as simple as that. Was it?

“You think?” you murmured, your fingers running over the corners of the envelope, still doubting whether you were doing the right thing. “He’d be stupid not to,” Lisa replied, giving you a shrug as if that were that. This time, you weren’t bothered by the plainness of her tone, but instead felt a surge of warmth spreading in your heart, highlighted optimism. “Right,” you repeated with a smile, “He’d be stupid not to.”

Turns out, Billy Russo was not an idiot. He did write back. The letter came, taped up, in the same envelope as one of Frank’s letters. “I didn’t know my husband knew how to write a letter,” Maria had joked, slipping the letter to you after brunch a week after Thanksgiving, “Turns out, Billy was the one who pushed him to it. Something about the lost art of letter writing.” 

You were so giddy, you ended up walking over to a nearby coffee shop. You were too afraid you’d be unable to wait until you got home to open the letter, so ten minutes after parting ways with Maria, you were settled at a corner table in a small coffee shop with a hot mocha and Billy’s letter.

Hey Y/N,

Cool opening. Much chiller than yours, you noted.

I already thought I shot my shot with you, but I guess kissing you wasn’t a clear enough hint that I like you? And Lisa wouldn’t have told if you had bribed her the way I do, but that’s a secret that stays with me. You’ll have to find your own way with Lisa. She’s a smart kid.

I’d say that things are normal here too, but there’s nothing normal about being out here. It’s normal for me, but I don’t think anybody else can understand that. And that’s alright, y’know? 

God, I do miss pie. Make me some when I get back, will you? It’s the food I miss, the food and the beer. And Maria and the kids, of course. And you. Is that weird?

I guess not. Frank misses Maria. I think I miss you like that. So, it’s fine by me if you miss me. If you want to miss me via e-mail so I can miss you even faster, that’s also fine by me. Hear from you soon, yeah?

Billy

He even closed out his letters in a cool way! You mentally cursed yourself for crossing out that damn love you had written, hoping he hadn’t been able to make out your mistake. After you moved on past your embarrassment, you quickly typed in the email address he had written on the bottom of the letter, typing out a quick message to him.

You nearly pressed sent too, but you held back, finger hovering over the send button. 

Hey Billy! Y/N here, as you can probably see as my e-mail address is my first and last name put together. Good point, we should be living in the 21st century and using e-mail. Then again, in the age of texting, e-mail writing is also a lost art of sorts. 

And I know what you mean. I just like knowing that you’re well, as well as you can be. I’d like you to come home in one piece, if that’s not too much to ask.

Also, will you tell me your Lisa taming secret for $1 million? 

You sighed, wondering if the rules of courtship applied to whatever this was with you and Billy. Twenty long mocha-sipping, barista probably thinks you’re crazy minutes later, you finally hit send. You figured he wouldn’t see the e-mail that quickly anyway, and that rules weren’t real and meant nothing. Just as quickly, you checked your sent folder to see if it had in fact really sent and thanks to the blessing of wireless internet, the e-mail had in fact sent. You then began refreshing your e-mail on your phone, sitting with the strange anticipation of a reply. Another five minutes of that, and you finally headed out to your car after no reply came, dialing Maria’s number at the same time.

“Of course there’s no reply,” Maria’s voice called out over the phone, “You just sent the damn e-mail, Y/N!” “I know,” you whined back, signalling your turn before slumping in the driver’s seat of your car. “Now I want to know what he wrote,” Maria commented offhandedly, and you imagined her leaning over her kitchen counter to stare out the window as she talked you down over the phone. “Over my dead body,” you muttered, to which Maria laughed out loud. “Just hold on, Y/N,” she assured you, “Just hold on.”

Maria was right. Well, she usually almost always was. Billy’s reply came a few days later, and you had practically jumped out of your office chair while at work when the notification popped up.

I’ll try and come back in one piece, but no guarantees. Also, when was e-mail writing ever an art? I thought it was always something painful adults had to do. Even thinking of the word “regards” makes me sick.

Tell me more about how things are for you, work, friends, anything. I want to know more about you.

And I would not sell you my Lisa taming secret for all the money in the world.

You bit back a smile, hoping that no one around the office was looking at you grinning at your phone screen like an idiot. Sure enough, no one was and you reread Billy’s e-mail several times over. And you couldn’t help but smile every time you did.

Over the next weeks, you and Billy e-mailed back and forth with an occasional Skype call in between. The first time you saw him on a screen was when Maria was Skyping with Frank and Billy popped in the background while you were saying hi to Frank. 

“Hey stranger!” Billy called, the image of him grainy but sure enough, it was him. “Hey!” you called, your voice immediately brighter than it was a second ago and you caught Maria and Frank giving each other a look. “We can go, y’know, if the two of you want some privacy?” Frank teased as Maria snickered. “Real mature,” you muttered, playfully smacking Maria’s shoulder.

The next time Billy e-mailed you, he gave his Skype ID so that the two of you could talk sans Castle intrusion. 

“Hey you!” you called, seated on the floor of your living room as your laptop rested on your coffee table. You had a cozy sweater on, keeping you warm in the midst of the rainstorm outside. It had been pouring for days nonstop, and while it meant no snow to shovel, it was hardly weather to match the cheery-ness of the holiday season.

“Hey sweetheart,” Billy replied, his lips moving in the video a second before the sound processed but you didn’t care. This was the next best thing to having him there. “How was that office Christmas party?” Billy asked, referencing an awful Secret Santa you had been to just two days earlier. “I got a nice set of hot pink oven mitts from this lady in accounting,” you bragged, your eyes wide in exaggeration. Billy laughed and the sound was truly music to your ears, “Hold onto those for me. They sound like they’re just my style.” “Yeah,” you muttered, “And I’ll get you those eyelashes you can put on your car, too.” Billy shook his head at you, unable to push back the smile from his face.

“It’s weird, y’know?” he said suddenly, shifting a bit in his seat. It caught you by surprise, you were telling him about the presents at the party that were so bad that they were good, and the smile dropped from his lips as he spoke. “Secret Santa?” you asked slowly, confused at the sudden change. “No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’ve never had anybody like this to talk to,” he said, hands moving to gesture towards the camera. “Mari-” you began before he cut in. “Nah,” he shook his head, “Not like that. Someone who’s mine.” A silence came over you, the weight of his words hanging in the air as you looked at him at the screen. You thought for a second the screen froze, but Billy blinked his eyes. “Did it freeze?” he said softly, after you hadn’t responded or moved. You shook your head, slowly at first. The sound of the heavy rain against your window were a tell-tale sign, but you weren’t sure of what to say at first. “No,” you replied back, just as softly. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, the regret apparent in his eyes, “I didn’t me-” You cut in, “No, I want you to mean it like that, Billy. I want to be somebody for you. I just didn’t know how you felt, and I’m too afraid I’ll overstep something, some kind of boundary…” Billy laughed softly, the skin around his eyes crinkling up the way it did when he really smiled, “You’re an idiot. You and me both. We let dumb shit like this hold us back.” You couldn’t help but mirror his laugh, the tension sliding off your shoulders, even as the storm didn’t let up outside, “No more dumb shit.” “No more,” he repeated, “Just us.” For the first time since that kiss the night of the party at the Castle’s home, you felt at peace. The sound of the rain was now comforting, the pitter-patter against your window now soothing you as you smiled at Billy’s image on the screen. “Just us,” you said softly, “Us.”

[sirius]

Chaos Theory Part 5

Pairing: Cedric Diggory x Reader, Harry Potter x Reader, Draco Malfoy x Reader

Warnings: Swearing

Word Count: 5380

A/N: Finally oh my gosh this took freaking ages to put together! YAYY for Cedric and Draco coming back, I love writing them (esp Draco :P) I’m finding that, the more I write this, the more pairings I add to the story. In the end, I think I’m going to make it so you can choose who you want to end up and write different endings for each potential love interest. Annnyway, here you go. P.S. I’m super proud of my giffing skills atm, see the above! a gif by yours truly. 

Chapter Five:

There’s something whimsically surreal about the Burrow.

It seems to glisten from the ground up as though someone had sprinkled gold dust over it. From where you’re standing, you begin to appreciate how beautiful it is in the light; standing tall against the backdrop of rolling hills and lush, green grass, inviting you in without having to use words.

You’re standing in the backyard, waiting for someone, though you’re not sure who. It’s more like a feeling like you’re anticipating something you’re not sure will happen. There is a faint buzz humming in the air, like the beating wings of a thousand butterflies. The sky is like a painter’s palette; a blend of soft blues and vibrant pinks, like those honey-glazed moments right before the sun sets.

It’s like a poet’s dream.  

“(Y/N)?” says a familiar voice. You’re smiling before you even turn around, knowing who is standing behind you without even looking.  

“Cedric,” you sigh, whirling around and throwing yourself into his arms.  

“I’ve been waiting for you,” he says, kissing your cheek, your neck, your collarbone, lips spilling over your skin like he can’t get enough of you.

“I know,” you whisper, softly, as his lips move against you like water, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” he reassures, voice gentle in your ear as his hands card through your hair, “Besides, a mouse never trusts a hungry snake.”

You freeze as, suddenly, the voice in your ear trails off into a cold, sharp hiss, and the world around you plunges into darkness. Cedric untangles himself from your embrace, stepping back as his face distorts before you, revealing his true form.

You watch in horror as black bleeds into that deep, deep blue in his eyes, filling out every corner as though he were possessed by something sinister. His head distorts into a spade-like shape, neck elongating, his nose flattening into two thin slits and he sheds his bronze skin, a snake-like pattern stretched over his muscles and veins. His lips pull back into an insidious smile, cold and cruel like the edge of a scythe, revealing sharp fangs and a long, forked tongue that pokes out and curls in the air, testing, tasting for prey.

The fluttering noise gets louder, more insistent, like an orchestra of shrieking violins, warning you to run, run, run!

“You’d better wake up now, mouse” the snake monster hisses; it sounds like the blood-curdling shriek of nails scraping across a chalkboard, “Before you forget how to.”

You wake up to green eyes in the dark.

Belladonna Nightshade, better known as Nightshade, Bella, Belle or simply B, peers down at you curiously, blinking owlishly. She’s perched on your chest, her gaze now sharpening from curiosity to expectancy as she silently demands food, though there’s something in those green eyes that suggests that she had sensed your discomfort and pulled you from your nightmare as an act of mercy.

Sometimes, Belladonna Nightshade is more human than she is a cat.

Your hands tremble as you reach out and pat her, your fingers raking through her soft fur. She leans into your touch, purring in delight, and she does that adorable cat thing with her eyes where she closes them and eases into your roaming touch, as though she wouldn’t want to be anywhere else but here, on your chest, her paws pressed into your cheeks.

“Hey B,” you whisper, voice raspy and low. There’s a dry, scratchy sort of taste in the back of your mouth like you had just been stifling a scream. You swallow thickly and reach beneath your pillow, pulling out the photo that’s been buried underneath since it arrived one week ago.

You unfold it and stare at the symbol on the back. Why would someone send this? Why were they spying on you in the first place? Is it a threat or a warning? Has Cedric received one, too?  

“Oh, good! You’re awake,” Says a voice in the doorway, and your vision swims as you try to focus on the figure in front of you.

Hermione strides over and stands next to you, already showered and dressed, hair tackled and tamed into a bushy ponytail and an irrefutable air of anticipation buzzing around her. It’s such a startling contrast to your nightmare that you have to reassure yourself that, in reality, snakes don’t usually protrude from people’s necks.

Usually.

“Mrs Weasley said she’ll cook some blueberry pancakes for us if we all get ready in time.”

You nod curtly, rubbing the sleep from your eyes and swallowing the imaginary cotton-ball stuck in your throat. Nightshade leaps from your chest and onto the floor, rubbing herself against Hermione. Hermione bends over and scratches Nightshade’s head.  

“Did you have another nightmare?” Hermione asks, but the look in her eye tells you that she already knows.

A knot forms in your stomach, like a strong, calloused fist is squeezing it into submission. You nod wordlessly, your thumb scraping across the corner of the photo as though you were deliberately trying to get a paper cut. Hermione places Nightshade on the floor and sits by your side. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asks, staring at the photo.

“Not really,” you murmur, fingers rubbing nervous circles on your wrist and feeling your pulse thump beneath the delicate skin, “I just want to forget about this stupid thing.”

You toss the photo to the ground and Hermione picks it up again, unfolding it. She studies it intensely, brown eyes dragging across every inch of the photo and the symbol on the back.

“It does seem odd that they’d send you a photo of you and Cedric,” Hermione muses, distantly, “and how does this symbol relate to Cedric? Do you think he got one as well?”

You shrug as you stare at your wrist. It’s red from where your nails have been furiously scratching away at the ache. 

“And what do they mean by ‘A mouse does not trust a hungry snake’? Are you the mouse in this scenario? Or are you the snake? Are they trying to warn you about something? Are they saying you can’t trust anyone?” Hermione sighs and slaps the photo on your bedside table, “The more I stare at it, the more questions come to mind.”  

“That’s why I want to pretend it doesn’t exist,” you mumble, climbing out of bed, “And, before you ask, no. We’re not telling Harry or Ron or anyone about this, okay?”

Hermione nods, opens her mouth to say something, but you can’t talk about it anymore right now, you just can’t. Being on edge for an entire week has turned your stomach into a mosh pit, nerves crashing and colliding and crackling like the frayed edges of tangled electrical wires, and you don’t think you can verbalize any of it without dissolving into an existential crisis.

“Thanks,” you give her a half smile, drawing a carefully guarded expression across your face. You smile at Nightshade and she saunters over, her tail curling into a question mark shape. She leaps into your arms and you rush out of the room, evading any more discussions on the topic.

Knowing Hermione, she will probably want to talk to you later. And that’s okay for now. But, at the moment, it’s best to leave some things unspoken, like seeing your crush transform into a horrid snake monster.

***

Breakfast is an awkward ordeal.

True to her word, Mrs Weasley did make some of the fluffiest pancakes you have ever tasted, and you enjoyed every bite, even if you did have to shovel in as many mouthfuls as you could. Still, you enjoy sitting with the Weasleys; they have this rare ability to make you feel like you’re one of them. 

It’s even better seeing Luke. You take a moment to study him, watching him carefully. He’s wearing his favourite, borg-lined denim jacket, black jeans, black converses and a broad grin as he challenged Bill Weasley to a quick game of Wizard Chess.

Over the course of the week, you had watched Luke slowly heal from your father’s surprise-turned-disaster visit. Now, he seems so different again. It makes you wonder how many masks he had for separate occasions. But this morning, he seemed so…unguarded. Happy, even.

“Come on, William,” Luke teases, grinning, “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”

Bill snorts a laugh, “I’m not scared. I’m just not an idiot. You Arden’s are far too cunning for your own good.”

Luke shrugs, “I don’t know. Maybe I’m feeling lazy today…”

“I certainly hope not,” Percy Weasley snaps from the kitchen, “It’s the first day of school and all you’re concerned about is playing a game of Wizard chess! You need to sort out your priorities.”

“And you need to get laid, Percy Weasley,” Luke grins, watching as a deep red flush burns up Percy’s neck, “I can tell you’re suffering from a classic case of Blue Bludgers. It’s nothing to be ashamed of, we’ve all been there. Well, not all of us.”

Everyone bursts into a furious fit of laughter except Hermione and Percy, the former looking like she’s teetering along the edge of amusement and embarrassment, the latter looking as though he may explode.

Percy opens his mouth to scold Luke but is interrupted by Mr Weasley, who bursts into the kitchen, shrugging into his work robes, and swipes a piece of toast from the table and straightening his glasses.

“Morning kids,” he says as he passes, rushing into the study.  

While everyone is distracted, you turn to Harry, who sits next to you.

“Have you heard from Sirius?” you whisper, and Harry turns to you, green eyes tinged with a hint of worry.

“No, not yet,” Harry replies, “I’m not sure where he is, though, so it could take weeks before I get a response.”

You nod, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, “You’re right. It’s probably better that he doesn’t reply straight away anyway.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, “Why? Is something wrong?”

You think about telling Harry the truth, showing him the photo burning through the fabric of your mini denim overalls but you don’t really know where to begin. Plus, with everyone crowded in the kitchen…

“I’ll explain later,” you murmur, eying Ginny as she tries to lean into the conversation, “Now isn’t a good time.”

Harry nods, then fixes his eyes on your bottom lip. He stares as though he’s transfixed, an interesting shade of pink brushing against his cheeks as his pupils dilate ever-so-slightly. You freeze, feeling your own cheeks burn under the intensity of his gaze.

“What? What is it?”

“There’s–there’s something on…” He trails off and hesitantly raises his hand, swiping the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip, “There. Got it.”

His fingers hover over your skin, ghosting across your cheek as though he wants to cup it but some sort of invisible barrier is preventing him from breaking through. Something flares inside of you as you watch him, wondering what’s going on inside his brain. 

The sound of shattering glass shocks you from your trance, and you both nearly leap off your chairs. Ginny is grimacing, her face flushed as her eyes dart between you, Harry and something on the floor.

“You alright, Ginny?” Bill asks from across the table. Luke springs from his chair and walks around the table to Ginny’s side.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Ginny murmurs, her lashes fluttering as she blinks rapidly, “I just…dropped a glass. That’s all.”

Ginny glances between you and Harry and an expression of hurt flickers across her face, disappearing completely as she turns away from you and Harry.

Luke draws his wand, points it at the shards of glass scattered across the kitchen floor, and mutters ‘Reparo.’ Small pieces of glass trapeze through the air and piece themselves together like a jigsaw puzzle, forming a glass. He pats Ginny on the back and she smiles sheepishly up at him.

“Anyway, as I was saying,” Fred continues as Luke sits back into his chair, “Mr Diggory – also known as (Y/N)’s father-in-law – was saying that Mad-Eye Moody’s put in another complaint. Apparently, someone tried to ambush him last night. Again.”

“He’s lost it,” Charlie mumbles through a mouthful of pancakes, “Also are we going to ignore the whole ‘(Y/N)’s father-in-law’ joke?” 

“Did he ever ‘have it’ in the first place?” Luke asks as he absentmindedly plays with his food, “Besides, why would anyone try to ‘kidnap’ him in the first place? His house is basically a burglar’s nightmare.”

“I guess we are going to ignore it,” Charlie shrugs and stabs his fork into another pancake. 

“I concur,” Percy chimes in, “Moody’s a raging lunatic and he shouldn’t harass Mr Crouch with his pathetic, baseless complaints. Mr Crouch is a very busy man, he shouldn’t have to put up with Moody.”

“Well, you would know,” George says, grinning wickedly, “You are Mr Crouch’s bitch boy.”

Percy scowls dangerously at George while Luke and Fred snicker. Luke even leans across the table and pumps his fist on George’s.

“Father is rather fond of Moody,” you interject, and Luke’s expression falters, his lips quirking ever-so-slightly, “He respects Moody, even if he is a little…. senile.”

“Yeah, well, fuck that,” Luke huffs, taking a swig of his pumpkin juice, “Adrien Arden only ever cares about people who look good on the front page of the Daily Prophet. If their faces sell copies, then he’s their best friend. He did the same thing to Sirius Black; he wasn’t afraid to drag Sirius’ name through the mud, even though there wasn’t even a trial for him.”

You, Hermione, Ron and Harry exchange a furtive look,

“You think he’s innocent?” Hermione asks, a faint tinge of pink staining her cheeks.

“I don’t know,” Luke shrugs, “I’ve looked into his case and I’ve just…I’ve seen a lot of inconsistencies. A lot of his case is sensationalized. Anyway, it’s a good thing that Sirius escaped. I wouldn’t wish the Dementors kiss on anyone.”

“A good thing?” Percy chides, hotly, “The whole ghastly ordeal has been a pain in the Ministry’s back, especially for–”

“–Mr Crouch,” Fred finishes, rolling his eyes, “Yes, Barty’s Bitch Boy, whatever you say.”

Everyone laughs, once again, including Hermione. Except, you think it might be out of relief rather than amusement.

***

You arrive at Platform 9 ¾ with a good ten minutes to spare.

Surprising, really, given that breakfast had been such a rushed ordeal and it felt like it had taken months to get ready. Still, after cramming into the Ministry-loaned car and uttering a string of silent prayers to gods you don’t even know, you managed to pull up to Kings Cross Station.

You and Ron had rushed through the barrier together and emerged on the other side grinning. It was always such a thrill, running through the barrier. Of course, Nightshade didn’t care for it, and as soon as you clambered onto the platform, she had meowed loudly, hoping to be released from her carrier.

“I know Belle,” you coo as you poke your finger into her carrier, stroking her fur. Nightshade nuzzles into your touch, rubbing her nose on your finger, “I’ll let you out as soon as we’re on the train.”

A burst of loud guffaws echoes across the station, and you turn to find Luke with his friends. Luke glances at you, his lopsided grin broadening.

“I’ll see you on the train,” you hear him say, “I’ll just be a sec.” They tease him as he shoulders past them and jogs toward you. You smile and cross your arms over your chest, cocking your head as you watch him.

“Aw, come to kiss your little sister goodbye?” you ask, cooing mockingly, as Luke pulls you into a one-armed hug.

“Actually, I came to say goodbye to Nightshade,” Luke jokes, scratching Nightshade through the bars of the car carrier, “And to tell you that I’ll be sitting with my freinds if you need me.”

“You better not let Caleb and the boys see you like this,” you tease, poking him in the ribs, “They’ll think you’ve gone all soft inside.”

“Maybe I was soft to begin with,” Luke suggests, planting a kiss on the crown of your head, “Seriously, though. You need me, come and find me and I’m yours.”

You roll your eyes as Luke gives you one last hug and stalks off to his friends, who wait for him patiently. Behind you, you hear hurried whispers engaging in a heated argument, and you turn to find Ron and Harry murmuring amongst themselves. Your ears strain to listen, but you can’t hear over the chatter of the crowd. You’re about to approach them when you someone nudges your shoulder with their own.  

“Looks like you’ve caught someones attention,” Hermione smiles, nodding toward someone in the distance, and you follow her gaze to Cedric Diggory, who smiles and waves cheerily at you.

You swallow, your chest fluttering. Even though you’ve seen him enough in your nightmares let alone your daydreams to recognize him from miles away, he still catches you off guard, like some invisible force has swept you off your feet. A strange, tingling knot forms in the pit of your stomach, tightening then slackening then tightening again and even though it should be painful, it’s not. It’s...peculiar, in a terrifying sort of way. Familiar, yet it surprises you every time.

You blame it on hormones.

Still, spotting Cedric Diggory amongst the bustling crowd has a way of reducing all your thunderous thoughts to mere whispers, chasing them into the base of your skull. You bite your lip, a calming, sanguine wave of relief washing over you, washing through you, trickling down your spine and filling the spaces between your ribs.

“You should talk to him,” Hermione gives an encouraging smile, “If the secret love letters are anything to go by, he’s really been missing you.”

“How did you find out about them?” You ask, incredulously, eyes wide and cheeks burning.

“I didn’t,” she laughs, “You just told me. Right now, actually.”

You glare at her, equal parts frustrated and impressed by her tactics, though you can’t fight the smile flirting around your lips. Knowing that he’s missed you and having someone verbally confirm it has two radically different effects on you, and both of them are good.

“What about you guys?” You ask, tossing a nervous glance at Harry. He’s stopped talking and is ignoring Ron as he watches you carefully, as though he’s trying to listen to your conversation. You think back to earlier that morning when he had grazed his thumb across your bottom lip, his touch meek and hesitant but at the same time curious and warm.

“(Y/N), we’ve just spent nearly two weeks together,” Hermione reassures you with a hand on your shoulder, “I’m sure Harry and Ron can forgive you for choosing to spend one train ride with Cedric. Besides, you might be able to ask him about the…” she trails off suggestively.

You turn back to Cedric, who is making his way through the crowd as you speak.

“Okay,” you smile, biting your lip, as you watch Cedric. He’s wearing a white v-neck beneath a denim aviators jacket and jeans. He’s even better than any fantasy you’ve ever seen of him. 

Several other girls seem to agree, because they giggle and whisper as he passes them, eyes following him until he’s standing in front of you. 

“Hello, (Y/N),” Cedric beams, blue eyes soaking you in warm, cerulean waters, “Hello Hermione.”

“Five minutes until boarding and departure,” a voice booms over the crowds, and you and Hermione glance at each other, an unspoken understanding passing between the two of you.

“I’ll go and get Ron and Harry,” Hermione murmurs, smiling, a silent suggestion dripping from her lips. She glances between you and Cedric one final time before flouncing away.

“So...” Cedric blurts, trailing off into an awkward silence.

“So,” You echo, grinning.

Cedric runs a hand through his hair, rubbing the back of his neck. He gazes at you, blue eyes twinkling as they bashfully sweep over you.

“So,” Cedric repeats, fiddling with his shirt, “I was thinking that – if you want – we could, maybe, sit together?”

“What about your friends?” You ask, glancing back at the group of Hufflepuff seventh-years watching your exchange from a distance and grinning teasingly.

“Oh they’ll be fine,” Cedric flaps a dismissive hand in their direction. He seems to know that they’re watching and no doubt joking amongst themselves, “They’re not babies.”

You nibble your smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and the folded photo in your pocket seems lighter already, “Okay.”

Cedric smiles, and it’s as though he’s been kissed by sunlight.

***

Somehow, you end up sitting crossed-leg on the floor, blindfolded and at Cedric’s mercy.

He shifts, leaning forward, and he’s so close, close enough for you to breathe in the scent of his shampoo and bottle it inside your ribcage like a fine wine. You inhale, trying to drink him in and you taste sunlight on your tongue; warm and reassuring and melting your fears away.

“Okay, I promise this one isn’t a gross one,” Cedric says, and you can almost hear the smile on his words. There’s a scratchy rustling of a cellophane plastic bags, and the scrape of thin, flimsy cardboard like it’s been ripped open, “Ready?”

You nod and part your lips. A moment later, Cedric pops the jelly bean between your lips and you bite down, strawberries and cream oozing onto your tongue.

“Mm,” you hum, smiling, “Strawberries and cream.”

“I love that one,” Cedric confesses, “You’re good at this game.” 

You shrug triumphantly, “I’m good at anything to do with food.” 

There is a brief moment of silence while you enjoy the jelly bean as the rich, creamy flavour melts down your throat. But the silence continues, lingering, stretching, and even though you’re blindfolded, you can still sense hesitation in the air.

“Is there something wrong?” you ask. A beat of silence passes, where you assume Cedric has just shaken his head because he gives a little laugh.

“No, nothing is wrong,” He murmurs, “I’m just…admiring how beautiful you are.”

You feel a blush creep up your neck and burn in your cheeks, the knot in your stomach tightening, but the feeling fades a little as you feel Cedric trace a finger down your jaw, his thumb dragging across your cheek. You lean into his touch, your entire body tingling with anticipation, as you sense him shift closer, closing the inches between you, and he’s so close, you can feel his lips ghosting over your own, testing, hesitating, and Merlin it’s happening, it’s really happening–

Shattering glass echoes down the corridor and you and Cedric jerk apart.

“What was that?” Cedric asks, and you push your blindfold over your head, climbing to your feet.

“I’m not sure,” you muse, sliding the compartment door open and stepping out of the compartment.

You immediately want to shrink back into the room.

Draco Malfoy is prowling the corridor with his goons, Crabble and Goyle in tow, following him loyally like a persistent shadow. They look as though they’ve just won a fight and they’re basking in their glory, snickering amongst themselves like scheming snakes. You start back toward your compartment, but you already know it’s too late; you can sense Draco’s pale-blue eyes roaming over you like a predator assessing its prey.

“Don’t suppose you’ve heard the news yet, Arden?” he asks, smugly, knowing that you have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about.

“I really don’t care,” you sigh, exasperated with the conversation, “Now excuse me–”

“–you’re excused,” he drawls, like he’s bored already, “Though I’d watch my back if I were you. Potter seems to be in a miserable mood lately. You ought to find yourself better friends.”

You glare at him, blood pulsing hot and red and burning the cushion of your veins, “Don’t tell me what I ought to do, Malfoy. I’ve always been patient with you, but that doesn’t mean you can push me.”

“I can do what I want, and you know it,” he scorns, an annoying, haughty glint in his eye, “I can get what I want, too.”

Crabble and Goyle, snigger trollishly.

“And what is it that you want, Malfoy?” you ask, a sharp brow raised indignantly as you stare at him.

Malfoy’s eyes glitter with shades of blue and silver as they study you, sweeping across every fine detail on your face, and there is something distinctly masked about his expression like he’s showing you something he shouldn’t be as he contemplates, hesitates, before scoffing,

“Just–watch yourself. You and Potter think that you’re invincible, prancing around like little lovers. But you shouldn’t trust anyone.”

Your scowl turns into mild interest as you narrow your eyes on him, recognizing his thinly-veiled threat.

“What is that supposed to mean, Malfoy? And why are you telling–” you trail off into a stutter, blinking in disbelief. 

Are they trying to warn you about something? Are they saying you can’t trust anyone?

The photo in your pocket itches. You wrench it out of your pocket and unfold it hastily, fingers fumbling around the edges.

“Do you know what this is?” you ask, thrusting the photo into his hands.

Draco sniffs as he stares down at it, flattening it out so he can get a better look. His expression shifts, rippling with more expressions you’ve ever seen before, before he settles on disdain.

“It’s a photo, Arden. I can’t believe I had to tell you that, Merlin.”

You roll your eyes, seething, as you snatch the photo from his grasp and shove it into your pocket. “I know that. I mean, did you have anything to do with it?”

Draco scoffs, narrowing his eyes on you with haughtily, “Do you really think the world is that obsessed with you? Of course not. Not everyone is in love with you.”

“That’s not what–you know what? It doesn’t matter. You don’t deserve another minute of my time,” You whirl around and storm off, reaching for the handle of the compartment door when Draco suddenly calls out.

“Underwood.”

You’re not sure if you heard him at first, until you turn around and notice that he had strode toward you to catch up. Draco’s eyes travel between you and the photo in your pocket.

You furrow your brows in confusion, “Excuse me?”

“Underwood,” Draco reiterates, “Noah Underwood. You know, the only person weirder than Potter? He’s in our year. It looks like one of his photos. He’s the only idiot I know who uses a stupid, muggle camera.”

You cock a single brow as your eyes scan Draco’s face, giving him an appraising look, “How do I know if what you’re telling me is the truth?”

“Just ask him,” Draco snips, coldly, “You’ll know then.”

“Is everything okay here?” someone asks from behind you, and you turn to find Cedric watching your exchange with Draco suspiciously.

Draco’s expression falters, something malicious flashing in his eyes, like a fork of lightning splitting the sky in half.

“Everything’s fine,” you say, soothingly, “This conversation is over.”

Draco shoves past you and disappears down the corridor, his eyes never leaving yours as he passes. You absentmindedly pat the photo in your pocket.

Noah Underwood. Draco was right about him being a little…odd. He was alone, a lot of the time, people were probably repelled by his standoffish personality. You didn’t really know well, having only spoken when it was absolutely necessary (for instance, in Potions you had once been paired with him and even then, the only words that he murmured were soft-spoken instructions that you could barely hear over the bubbling potion) but what you did know was that he is currently the only muggleborn in Slytherin and that his sister died last year in an unfortunate accident.

In a way, you pitied Noah Underwood.

You wait until Draco is out of earshot before turning to Cedric, peering up at him apologetically.

“I’m sorry to do this to you but I have to go and talk to Hermione,” you say, giving him a meek smile. Cedric smiles, understanding without verbalizing it, and drags a gentle finger up your jaw, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. Your heart swells at the affectionate gesture and, without even comprehending what you’re doing, you reach up and give him a quick peck on his cheek.

You breathe in the subtle notes of his cologne and savour them in your chest as your lips linger for a second longer than necessary. Cedric winds an arm around your waist, holding you to his chest for a brief moment, where you can hear the rhythmic beating of his heart. You have to muster every ounce of your willpower to tear away from his side and flash him a smile before flouncing away.

When you finally reach Hermione, Harry and Ron’s compartment, you wrench open the door and stumble inside, noticing the air shift around you.

There’s an undisguisable tension that weighs heavy in the air. Ron’s arms are crossed over his chest, Hermione is reading a book, and Harry is staring out of the window. It looks as though they’ve just had another argument.

Another argument that they’ve had without me

“Hey, (Y/N),” Hermione smiles, lowering her book. There is a faint brush of red over her cheeks, recognizable only to those who truly know her, “Is everything alright?”

“Can I speak to you for a second?” you ask, ignoring the penetrative stare that Harry’s eyes are drilling into you.

Hermione nods, standing, before following you out of the compartment. You pull her aside, enabling others to pass as you talk.

“I think I know who took the photo of me and Cedric,” you murmur, and Hermione’s brows shoot up toward her hairline as you continue, “Draco recognized the photo as one of Noah Underwood’s.”

“What?” Hermione breathes, brows creased in thought, “How can you trust that Draco is telling the truth?”

“I can’t,” you sigh, shrugging, “But I’ve got nothing to lose by asking him. I have to follow every lead I find.”

“But (Y/N)–”

“Hermione, Noah Underwood is the key to all of this,” you whisper, trying to convince yourself that it’s true, “I know it.”

And even if I’m wrong, I still have to get to the bottom of this

***

@marauderskeeper @weaselby418 @acciorinn @hervench @harrvjpotter @depressed-octopods-art @romanofftasha @moonpeachs @emi-loser @steph-fowlie @lilulo-12 @randomfangirl17 @asofslytherin @seunlight

if i’ve missed you, please send me an ask. Also, if you want to be added to the list, send me an ask as well. Sometimes, tumblr doesnt send me the notification when you guys reply ??? sorry :( 

[moviegroovies]

okay so one of my points in the original incoherent longpost ramble i wrote while fending off the the post-lost boys haze that overtook me after watching it for, i believe, the fifth time, was that i thought the reason it was such a good movie was how quickly it checked the “oh, i like these characters and want to think about them now that the movie is over” box. in that post, i then proceeded to not talk about the thoughts i’ve actually been having about these characters at all, so let’s get down to work and try to fix that, shall we?

okay i was going to just write another impossible to read multiple paragraph long post, but y’know, how about i make things easier on all of us and do this in bullet points. so, in no particular order..... headcanons!

despite her later desire to get out of the gang, star wasn’t tricked or pressured into becoming a vampire like michael was. rather, she had been hanging around them for long enough that she pieced together what they were and asked to join, only coming to realize that it would mean killing other people for her own continued survival and wanting out later on.

in the 6-issue lost boys comic, it’s implied that star has cystic fibrosis, informing her decision to become a vampire. i’m definitely not taking all of that comic into my own personal canon, but i stand by that part--esp. bc it fits with vampirism being her decision, even if it was one she later regretted. 

marko is the smallest of the lost boys, but also the most dangerous, even exceeding david. have you seen that part where he’s peeling a man’s head like a fruit? that bitch is BLOODTHIRSTY.

not that he’s exactly an upstanding citizen on his own, but a good deal of the reason that david abuses exercises his control over the other boys is that he knows that they (but marko in particular) are always just about ten minutes and one show of weakness on his end away from staging a coup, and he knows that with anyone else in charge (save maybe dwayne, but dwayne isn’t interested in the leadership role) the group would become too violent and draw too much attention, getting them all killed.

okay now i feel like i’m vilifying marko which. i definitely stand by what i’ve said, but i also don’t think he’s like, pure evil or anything by any means. i like marko! 

i feel like i owe marko some nice headcanons now so like: i agree with the general consensus that marko cares for the pigeons in the vampire hotel, to the point where he feeds them and maybe talks to them. he DEFINITELY has named them all, although honestly he can’t tell them apart that well so usually when he sees one and calls it a specific name, he’s fucking with everyone else. loves to make fun of the other guys for not knowing which one is which, though.

one day he looks at a bird flying into the cave and casually announces “hey, vlad’s back,” and after hardly a glance, michael deadpans “vlad? that’s lestat.” 

marko goes into existential crisis mode for a week. this is the first time he starts to respect david’s decision to make michael one of them. 

he never figures out if michael was just fucking with him the way everyone else or if he could really tell the difference between the pigeons and it haunts him to this day.

ok wow that was a LOT of marko

back to star: she’s trans. you know that part on the boardwalk where she and michael are introducing themselves to one another for the first time, and michael goes “oh, your parents too, huh,” when she says her name is star? i always felt like she didn’t really get what he was saying, even after michael elaborated and told her he meant that her parents were ex-hippies. now i’m totally choosing to read that as her being like, a little offended that he thought someone would only be named star because they were burdened with it by uncool ex-hippie parents, because honestly when she picked it she thought she had the coolest name of all time. 

i will not take constructive criticism on that last part because it is already perfect.

on the subject of star, the general consensus i’ve seen in fic and stuff is that she had been a vampire for a few months or maybe a year before the events of the movie, but honestly i’d disagree.

personally, i feel like she’s been there for a lot longer than that--like, have you seen how she dresses? that immediately pinged “free spirit hippie girl” to me, which was kind of out of place, especially considering that everyone else dressed so 80′s. imo, star might have been turned as early as the start of the 70′s--making her the ex-hippie, and not her parents, like michael assumed. this fic here (which is SO good, by the way) explains the way that she was able to last a year with the hunger while michael was already struggling after about a week by having star steal sips from david’s bottle to tide her hunger when she could. that’s basically the way i see it, too, tbh, except over a longer time scale--rather than one year, something around 15. 

which means star is nearly as old as michael’s mother. oops.

alright, it’s weird, but i don’t actually think it’s that weird. the way i’m choosing to see vampirism in this universe is that it permanently halts the emotional maturity of the vampire at whatever age they get turned; david and the guys are nearly grown, at ages like, 18-22 or so, but not quite, and they’re never going to grow up and out of their immature mindset. the worst is for laddie, who’s permanently stunted around 8 years old. the others respond to this with a certain degree of pity, but since he doesn’t actually know what he’s missing, it mostly translates to a really rabid older brother/sister instinct. heaven help anyone who tries to pick on that kid--they’re immediately going to face 5 angry vampire dudes and one absolutely enraged vampire chick. 

(not to mention that his emotional immaturity means he’s got no real self control over the hunger he feels... if he ever snaps and becomes a full vampire, he’ll be the most dangerous of the group for a plethora of reasons)

on that note, if i were to list the lost boys by most control over their urges to least (or, y’know, least to most actively bloodthirsty), i think it’d be something like this: michael -> david -> star -> dwayne -> marko -> paul -> laddie, with the caveat that while marko is technically better at controlling himself than paul, paul has more moral reservations about the actual act of violent murder, while marko is more inclined to kill for fun. 

david being so high on that list may be a point of contention for some but tbh i feel pretty strongly about it

a majority of that call for me comes from the unmade screenplay for the lost boys: the beginning, a prequel to the film set in 1906. before reading that, i honestly had different headcanons entirely, and a lot less sympathy for david, but if you take the script as canon, i think a lot of things change about his characterization.

in the script, the four main lost boys are together (plus one other member named jasper, which is the only crossover name between the lost boys and twilight) as a petty gang before they became vampires. the start of the movie sees them pickpocketing to try and pay for a place to sleep that night, and david seems to luck out early, lifting a wallet with a $100 bill inside. 

however, when he realizes the guy has a family, including two babies, and he just took everything the guy has, he gives the wallet back, to marko’s intense dismay. 

basically, david starts out a criminal, and he definitely does care about self preservation above most other things, but he still has morals. later, when the movie’s big bad is pressuring him and the others to drink blood and live eternally, he’s the only one who refuses, spitting out the wine when he’s forced to drink it and showing the others that it’s blood. notably, even before that he’s warning his friends that they don’t have to drink it if they didn’t want to (mirroring the way that star told michael he didn’t have to drink of the bottle), protecting not just himself, but also them. he resists becoming a vampire the longest, too; david refuses to join the movie’s villain, even after the other lost boys have been turned, right up until he’s shot by some military men in a scuffle and it’s a matter of life and death. then, his self preservation wins out, but even once he’s been turned, david doesn’t lose who he used to be. 

tl; dr: i feel like david is a better person than the events of the movie alone would have you think.

in my opinion, he’s been looking out for his friends from the very beginning, and he’s never stopped doing that. yeah, even before he turned, he was a crook and kind of a burnout, but he had morals. i’m not going to deny that david enjoys being a vampire--enjoys drinking blood, the physical rush, the power over people who pushed him around--not by any means. i just think that comes from an understandable place, given that he was a streetrat who got pushed around a lot in the events of that script; he likes that he’ll never be a victim to assholes with knives who are bigger than he is again. 

plus, if you look at the people the lost boys kill over the course of the movie, they’re not exactly innocent victims. there’s the asshole cop who restrained david with a baton to his throat for pretty much just the act of putting his hand on a dude’s face, a jerkass who starts fights on boardwalks, steals comic books, and ignores his girlfriend’s protestations in the car when he’s trying to make out with her, the girlfriend, who stuck by him while all that shit was going down (and was reading one of the stolen comics, if i interpreted that scene correctly--not that this means she necessarily deserved to die, but she wasn’t innocent), and a bunch of assholes calling themselves surf nazis. david and his gang only go after people who have started the fight themselves in some way or another, and i think that david is a big part in keeping it that way--he’s the one who deescalates the tension on the carousel to keep things from an all out bloodbath, after all, and was the one keeping the gang in check since the turn of the century from doing anything too unforgivable for their own gain. that to me says he’s got a pretty good grasp of self control, and he keeps the gang to a level of violence that sustains their bloodlust without being totally gratuitous as much as possible.

re: his placement on the sliding scale of vampiric self control, you might be wondering why i put michael at the absolute top. honestly, it’s not that i think he’s a saint or anything. i just think he was the one member of the gang (jury’s out on laddie, but he’s automatically at the bottom because of his age and inability to control himself) who didn’t make a conscious choice, one way or another, to become a vampire. marko, dwayne, and paul gave into the temptation of the prequel’s big bad. david and star were given the choice between vampirism and death, and chose to live. michael, though--michael gave into peer pressure, but the worst crime he committed was drinking some wine. watching the others kill absolutely fucked him up, but he was able to resist any kind of bloodlust that might have had him joining in the slaughter on the beach that night. when pushed to the absolute wall by david in the ending of the movie (an ending you might have noticed i’m completely ignoring in favor of a full gang inc. laddie, star, and michael for my headcanons lol), his strength was tested against david’s and he won. michael isn’t perfect or superhuman, but he’s making the choices an essentially good, normal human being would make, and when everyone around him for one reason or another chose what they have, he’s got that tiny bit of a head’s up on them that makes all the difference. 

tbh tho, i think david was right when he said there was something of a killer in michael. i think on some gruesome level he’s kind of fascinated with the vampirism he’s fallen in with, which makes him more susceptible than, say, sam, or really any of the other emersons, who would rank above him on that scale, were they vampires too.

paul to me is just a fun happy dude. i was endeared to him when he clapped michael on the back after he drank and announced, totally earnestly, “you’re one of us!” i just, you know, liked his eagerness to welcome in a new friend. tbh i think he’s a bit of a ditzy airhead (or, dare i say it, a himbo), but he’s ultimately got his heart in the right place.

i really like dwayne. i like that he’s the quietest of the group (i saw a headcanon that said he didn’t speak that much because he’s got a stutter he’s embarrassed of, which i have absorbed into my canon), but i especially like that he does speak--to laddie, telling him what’s going on when he’s riding on the back of his bike. other than star, i think dwayne’s the most protective of him, and probably the most “maternal” of the guys. he’s under star in the sliding scale thing because to me he doesn’t really have qualms with killing assholes to survive, but at the same time, he’s never really tempted to take more than he needs, like marko is. 

i like the idea that dwayne’s really into music, like, ‘can name the artist, album, and song title of any song made since 1890 from the first line’ into music. immortality is a hell of a thing for music buffery. 

ok i have sooooooooo much more i want to say, i didn’t even realize i’d put together this many thoughts about this movie but Apparently I Have, holy god, but i need to cut off this post at some point sgfdshgh

one more fun marko one: totally love the hc that he paints, especially that he paints murals on the cave wall. artist boy.....

<3

[herotheshiro]

ok i didn’t do a review of the phoenix wright trilogy but i’ll do a mini-write-up on apollo justice which i just finished earlier. this is mainly due to me looking up apollo justice/ace attorney afterwards and seeing ppl talk vaguely abt how and where the series and characters go after this... i wanted to add my 2 cents to the void of the internet i guess lol

spoilers for aa4 below

i think as a story, apollo justice is quite good but definitely a bit lacking in writing compared to the 1st trilogy. i feel like this is pretty much the common fan opinion, esp since the 1st trilogy was written all together as a 3-game-set and apollo justice has to conclude everything within 1 game. i think this game did real good at revealing info over time... i remember when they revealed the troupe gramarye poster and i was like WAIT... THAT’S SHADI SMITH... HOLD UP... personally though, i think the ending was not very strong for me -- i feel like we nailed kristoph almost a bit too easily at the end without much i guess concrete evidence linking him to everything even if basically everything was really pointing to him. [EDIT: lol ok reading summaries on aa4 and yeah apparently this is the point and why it being a jurist sys trial was so important… and the realization that he really could get nailed for the crime that he’s been paranoid abt for years made him break down at the end. Ok that makes sense I guess, I was just used to things playing out like the 1st trilogy where you would last min get decisive evidence lol] other than that, there was quite a number of loose ends that didn’t get tied up

so what happened to valant? i think the implication was that he was gonna turn himself in out of guilt even if he didn’t actually kill magnifi (sp?). and also w trucy having the rights i guess it would be complicated for the 2 of them to work that out. that whole aftermath wasn’t entirely clear to me esp since they didn’t give him a post-credits scene

so we’re not gonna get an explanation for why thalassa left her not-even-1-yo son to fend for himself? that was like my no. 1 thing i would’ve liked to get a reason for but the ending is just her being like oh yeah i remember now he’s my son and that’s it. no explanation for why she left him behind and returned to troupe gramarye w/o him. like at least a “oh it would’ve been complicated to bring a literal baby to raise back into that traveling group” would’ve sufficed, esp since we’re supposed to get the impression that lamiror is a kind woman. yet she left her damn kid behind with only a bracelet. were we just supposed to assume the explanation i gave above? i mean yes i’ve looked it up vaguely and i think we get more info on apollo’s growing up in later games but i’ve heard w very little mention of thalassa. which i mean i get, thalassa left him when he was around 1yo so he prob wouldn’t remember shit but man we never gonna get that explanation huh. it’s kinda messed up to leave this baby behind who i assume you care about; it’s another story if she didn’t want the kid and therefore didn’t care what happened to him but she left a bracelet w him which implies she does care

also the loose end of them not telling apollo and trucy they’re siblings. i’ll save this for a later paragraph though

also side note but when i was finishing the game up and before i saw the ending, i literally had a passing, very brief thought like “oh what if lamiror was actually trucy and apollo’s mom lol. what a crack thought” but then it actually happened... i mean it’s good to wrap up that mystery of lamiror’s past, plus they were insinuating so hard that maybe thalassa wasn’t actually dead lol so yeah you knew the mom was gonna pop up fr by the end

apollo himself as a character. now i’m not gonna nit-pick as much here bc he does show up again in later games w more backstory and character development as i’ve heard, but yeah he is very much a mystery character in aa4 i feel. he has basically no given history throughout the game, and the lack of detail made sense at first when you slowly started connecting the dots that he and the gramarye power were related, but then they never really shed any more light on him at the end. they really only reveal he and trucy are related just to explain why and how he has the power to perceive, not even to really indicate anything abt them as characters. i kinda forgot about this as i played the game, but i read a write-up by someone else being like “oh yeah phoenix you know his motivations as a defense attorney but apollo has basically none” and i was like yeah that’s right huh. bc the 1st trilogy reveals p early on that phoenix had a certain motivation to be a defense attorney but apollo you don’t get that, he’s just an attorney just to be an attorney i guess. which i mean is fine, you don’t always need a reason to do stuff sometimes, but it does make him a weaker character. i think maybe in the beginning they were like oh apollo respects kristoph as a lawyer but then they don’t really develop mpre  backstory there like how they met or why kristoph decided to take him on. i thought the latter was gonna be a point that was gonna come up, like maybe kristoph took apollo on as part of his large masterplan or something bc i think kristoph does mention being aware of apollo’s “power” but yeah they didn’t delve further into that. anyway i’ll go less on this bc i’ll just assume they had plans for him to show up in later games therefore they didn’t fully flesh him out here. otherwise that means they just didn’t bother on him other than him having the perceive power and having a personal relation to the whole gramarye case

how did drew misham or vera idk who painted it know abt all of apollo’s 3 cases? i thought it was gonna be like oh phoenix or kristoph saw all this coming and somehow told misham abt it who drew it but uh that didn’t happen. was that bc drew misham was following phoenix in the news and saw the stuff happening w apollo and was inspired to draw his cases? that was a dramatic reveal when apollo/trucy/ema found it out but i mean i guess it was just to show that misham was connected to them/the overall story more than just a simple jurist sys test case

the last writing thing i’ll mention is abt trucy and apollo being siblings. after the whole phoenix x maya crap in the 1st trilogy i suspected they were gonna do the same with apollo and trucy... thankfully they didn’t which was good bc i liked them a lot as a platonic duo, also since i actually thought apollo was 25yo for a while so that age gap is pretty weird too if you do it romantically. i suspected they were actually related p early on after discussing my playthrough w my sis who upon googling info said ‘lol i did say why not ship them but i will not say that anymore’ so i was like lol it’s prob bc she found out they were related or something. regardless i mean i would have suspected that anyway bc the game pushes the ‘oh this perceive power is really only seen in trucy’s family line’ so hard so it’s like not that hard to draw the line bw them, esp when they’re super vague abt apollo’s history and how he even got that bracelet in the 1st place. anyway i think it’s cute to imagine two siblings running all over town to solve shit. as expected tho, there are still ppl out there who ship them even after knowing the truth which is meh but i mean what do you expect of fandom/the internet.

although one of my biggest disappointments is the fact that apparently even in later games, the two never find out they’re siblings. i mean i guess it’s not a major plot point that NEEDS to be addressed as covered in point #3 above, but come on? their mom is literally still alive? a mom and her children reuniting and developing their family relationship again? i mean she’s been so distanced from them for so long that a family reunion would be awkward sure but zak literally made phoenix promise to tell trucy apollo was her bro so i’m surprised he never told her even before his conversation with thalassa at the end of the game. like i thought for sure they were gonna reveal their sibling relationship in aa4 but sadly my imagined revelation scene never happened

(i literally thought up a funny scene too... them seeing thalassa and both being like “MOM??” at the same time and then looking at each other in confusion before thalassa confirms that yes she is both of their moms. although this makes less sense on apollo’s part since he prob wouldn’t remember what she looks like but i mean same bracelets)

otherwise, gameplay was pretty interesting this time around. music was bopping tbh, i played aa4 right after finishing trials and tribulations and wow the music quality improvement was so obvious. the perceive thing was pretty cool and their tutorial on how to use it was super cute lol (apollo: that’s cool but i’m freaking out a little here // trucy: yeah your eyes are kinda bugging out); although absolutely hilarious on how apollo "explained” it in court... imagine a lawyer looking real hard at you and then being like ‘actually you swallowed weird when you said this therefore you’re lying’... i cannot even imagine how that sounded the 1st time to the judge and klavier... anyway i also thought the MASON technologies chapter was really interesting, w phoenix going back and forth through time and using evidence from the future for the past and vice versa. fun time traveling stuff!

ok and that’s kind of all i wanted to say i guess. i’m prob gonna try to stay in the dark on fan content stuff like i was purposely doing before playing aa... i was looking some stuff up and i was like ‘huh... i didn’t get this impression of apollo or the apollo/klavier ship when i was playing aa4...’ i don’t want to get my own opinion of these characters warped by fan content/others’ opinions so i might just take a bit of time to solidify how i feel about/characterize each of the characters before i trek out into fandom land. also it’s prob bc i haven’t played apollo’s later games since he supposedly gets more character dev later. tbh idk if i will bc to be frank i’ve been using emulators to play aa so far and i don’t think there’s a rom out for the later aa games on 3ds. i mean if there really isn’t, i’ll prob just watch a playthrough on YT so i can continue the aa story since i did like apollo as a character despite his lack of backstory.

i was considering skipping edgeworth’s games to go right to dual destinies and continue on apollo’s story/the aftermath of that game, but tbh i’m less incentivized to since i’ve heard that the story/character continuity aspect kind of goes out the window in later games (also the point abt apollo and trucy still being in the dark abt them being siblings. even though yes it wouldn’t change how they interact w each other, i would also prefer the fact to be known officially in-universe so characters don’t be freaks as apparently there are some lines in later games that are a little weird). i mean i could end up having a different opinion abt the continuity, but yeah seeing those comments did put a damper on me diving straight towards dual destinies. so i might just play edgeworth’s games first as i originally planned anyway since they were developed right after even if they take place before aa4

[pneumasthesia]

Chapter 10

A. He was blind

Second Act – Perception

 “I’m … blind. That’s why I couldn’t read the combination and open the lock” I admit.

The young man and girl both open their eyes wide in shock, or at least I assume that they do.

“So that’s why you couldn’t see how many fingers I was holding up earlier! I have to say, for a cripple, you’re surprisingly capable! I respect that” says the young man, completely unaware of how much he sounds like a complete asshole right now.

The older man’s contemplative air turns to one of deep frustration. “We have no reason to believe that what you say is the truth. You could easily be lying to save your skin” he says.

“Stop trying to catch the poor kid in a lie. You’ve been awfully desperate to pin the blame on him” says the middle-aged woman calmly. She puts her hand on his shoulder, not even flinching while he recoils from the touch, and continues “we’ve both known that there was next to no chance that ‘Pet’ here was the murderer and this just makes it all the more certain.”

What? They had evidence that I wasn’t the murderer? And they still put me through this questioning?

“If ‘Pet’ wasn’t blind, then he wouldn’t have been defending himself by talking about things like alibis. There’s a clear elephant in the room that he didn’t address at all this whole time, and you can only explain that if he was blind” she says, finishing her deduction.

What “elephant in the room”? I’m being left out of something important, and I don’t like it. This is why I hate telling people about my condition.

“Oh, of course, you can’t see it so that’s why you’d been ignoring it. I thought it was because you were trying to postpone being found obviously guilty” says the young man, apparently having assumed me to be a coward this whole time, “it’s right there, on the floor in front of the dead body where we found you kneeling down. It’s the word ‘PET’, written on the floor in the Professor’s blood.”

I ignored incriminating evidence that blatant this whole time? I probably even stepped on it when I was standing up earlier.

“That’s why I thought you were the culprit. It’s common murder mystery fare, right? The victim writes the killer’s name in their blood as their final act” says the older man, with more than a single note of remorse in his tone, “but of course, like most murder mysteries, the answer is hardly that simple.”

“The Professor’s finger has no blood on it” states the middle-aged woman matter-of-factly, not hesitating as she stands above the dead body and touches his lifeless hand, “that means that he couldn’t have written this. So it figures that, more likely than not, the person who did write it was the culprit, and the only reason that they would write this name is to draw suspicion away from them. That means that it’s unreasonable to think that our ‘Pet’ is the murderer.”

Impressive deductions from someone with the makings of a true great detective. I’m a little envious that I wasn’t the one making them, but doing so would be physically impossible for me, so I suppose I can forgive it.

“So great, we’ve determined that one person out of five couldn’t have done it, but what now?” the young man questions “we have no more leads about how to figure out who among us actually killed the old man.”

“The gun” I say.

“Hmm? What do you mean?” says the young man.

“We know that the Professor’s gun was fired in this office; you and I heard that” I think aloud “but the Professor’s gun is always placed on top of the fireplace downstairs. That means that someone moved the gun up to this office. If we can determine who and why, then we might get closer to finding the truth of this murder.”

“Woah! Now that’s my assistant for you!” says the young man, wrapping his arm around my shoulders and smirking audibly.

I don’t know where he got the idea that I was his assistant. I’m no one’s assistant anymore, let alone to a “great detective” like him.

Hmm, but if he trusts me then he could be useful. I’ve learned from before that unless someone here is called out specifically, they won’t corroborate my claims for fear of being implicated. That’s the whole reason why everyone here still believes that the gunshot was when the Professor died. But if I know that this overly-friendly idiot will listen to what I say, then I can use him for witness testimony that may get us closer to the truth.

I just need to get him to speak.

 Third Piece – A Shadow Darting Through the Black

 “C’mon, speak already!” I shout as rudely as I can muster, which is quite a lot.

“No” whispers Yellow.

“Oh, what’s this? Has the little ray of sunshine here ‘gathered’ their thoughts enough to speak?” I goad.

“Yes. Now leave me alone” Yellow whispers loud enough to almost be considered speaking.

“No. I need something from you, so I won’t leave until you answer my questions.”

“Ask someone else.”

“I would, but the other two guests have been off hogging the goodly Professor’s time since we got here, and that ‘Pet’ is off in his own little doghouse, so I have to settle for talking with you.”

“I have nothing interesting to say.”

“So do most people, but I know for a fact that you have something to say that I want to know.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“So you’ll answer my questions? Thanks!”

“That’s not what I meant- “

“So, do you have this ‘pneumasthesia’ bullshit that the Professor was talking about?”

“How am I supposed to know? I’m not a doctor.”

“But you came here, right? That means there’s something about you that you wanted the Professor to help you with.”

“And what about you?”

“I’m perfectly normal. I wish I had ESP or whatever. I’m just here to give the old man a piece of … what he deserves for calling me some sort of crazy person.”

“So you want me to yell at the Professor with you?”

“In a nutshell, yes.”

“I’ll pass.”

“What? Do you honestly think this quack can help you? He’s out here ranting about ‘sixth senses’ and the ‘unconscious language’ like this is some pulp Sci-Fi novel. A guy like that deserves a punch in the face for wasting our time. Scratch that, four punches in the face, one from each of us, even if yours will probably be like a little bee sting.”

Yellow retreats within their self, turning pale enough to be mistaken for White, and whispers, softer than ever this time, “I need help. No matter what. No matter from who. I’ll do anything to be free of this.”

What a pitiful little shade. Letting yourself be brainwashed by this phony shows that you’ve got some serious self-worth issues. Maybe Yellow does need some professional help, or a slap on the face, but I’m not here to give either.

“Fine. Suit yourself. I hope you find the help you’re looking for” I say. With those words a little bit of Yellow’s color returns, just a little bit though.

I turn to go to the Professor’s study and knock on his door until I get yelled at again. Maybe I’ll just unlock that stupid padlock this time, or better yet I could kick down the flimsy thing like a burglar and force him to answer my questions.

I’m shaken out of that daydream by the object of my ire. Black descends from above, his darkened figure flitting down the staircase with a frantic gait.

Yellow sits up to look at the specter of a professor that just entered the living room. Surely they’re thinking about asking for a consultation right now, but with the hurried way the Professor is moving right now, someone as reticent as them could hardly bring their self to interrupt him. Even someone as not reticent as me can’t.

The Professor darts across the wooden floor and makes a beeline for the fireplace. He doesn’t turn to look at either of his patients when he passes by, nor does he even seem to notice, too caught up in his own thoughts. His heavy breaths are audible even from across the room. Does going down a single flight of stairs really wind him that much?

The ghost wrenches his gun from its seat atop the fireplace, takes a moment to inspect it, and runs back up the staircase, stowing the gun behind his back in a belt loop. I don’t know much about gun safety, but I’m quite certain that’s not proper handling procedure, though I doubt proper procedure is the Professor’s greatest concern right now, with the way he’s acting.

I turn back to Yellow whose color has drained even further than before. It figures that seeing the person you hope will be your savior panicking like that will make you lose some faith in your chances of rehabilitation.

I flash the little drop of sun the kindest smile I can manage and turn towards the first-floor hallway. I need to see that ‘Pet’.

 01:12:03

 “So how- “

“You can’t see, ‘Pet’?”

“Huh? Uh, yes, I am blind.”

“A blind psychiatrist. You must get a lot of business from ugly women with low self-esteem.”

“Was that a joke? I’m glad you’re in good humor now for some reason, but you know that I’m still just a student. You’re the first client that I’ve had, and I had to beg the doctors here just to let me see you.”

“I know. It’s just that I can see a bright future ahead of you.”

“Hilarious. I’ve never heard that one before.”

“Do you mean that you don’t see the humor in it?”

“Wow, that was terrible.”

“Wait, wait, I’ve got another one. How did I know that you were blind? Because you didn’t take me to the I-see-you!”

“…”

“Oh come on. You have to admit that last one was funny.”

“I’m the professional here so I make the rules, and I rule that this is a pun-free-zone.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Putting that nonsense aside, what brought about this change in behavior?”

“I found a target to bully.”

“I mean, what caused your mood to improve so dramatically like this? This is the first time you’ve smiled since this session began.”

“I don’t know. I just feel better now. Do I need to have a reason?”

“The human brain is not such an alien machine that it can’t be understood. Of course there’s a reason.”

“Well that’s a logical fallacy isn’t it, to say that the human brain can understand the human brain is ridiculous. In order to comprehend the inner workings of a machine, you need a machine that is more sophisticated so it can simulate all the inner workings of that other machine in itself.”

“But what if you were to have multiple human brains all working together to understand a single human brain? Their combined internal workings should surely be enough to understand one mind.”

“That claim implies that two or more human brains could ever communicate effectively enough to function as a united machine.”

“Humans are social animals. Every part of our evolution was made to help us communicate and work with each other more effectively. If we can cooperate to understand how to build machines that fly in the air unaided, then surely we can understand a single pink organ in your head.”

“Even birds can fly, and they do it alone. Not to mention they don’t murder each other.”

“And with that, your good humor has vanished. It seems like talking to me is the trigger for putting you in a bad mood.”

“I don’t think getting annoyed when you speak is a trait unique to me.”

“Ah, I suppose your humor is still there, just a little more sardonic than before. Well, so long as you’re still stable enough mentally, that means we can move forward. So, tell me, who brought the gun to the Professor’s office?”

“You really have no faith in my ability to solve mysteries if you’re asking me that.”

“I told you that we’d be talking this one step at a time, no matter how hard it got, or how easy. Besides, you didn’t know who took that gun until just a few moments ago, and neither did you know that I was blind. Don’t act like nothing has been new to you in this whole ‘memory theater’ as you put it.”

“I suppose. This definitely isn’t how I remember these events playing out.”

“Well that just goes to show how addled your mind is and how much you need this therapy session.”

“Unless you’re lying to me.”

“Don’t you trust your own senses?”

“…”

“Then just sit back, relax, and answer my questions. I realize that you think this is a waste of time, but we can’t move forward until you do this. So, answer me, who brought the Professor’s gun into his office?”

 >Pick one:

A.    The young man

B.     The young girl

C.    The assistant

D.    The Professor

[kacheeking]

the lost years/months/days

haven’t revisited/thought about things that I’ve been reading on my own terms for a while, but this was the last time I was taking note roughly from July 2015 to May 2016: 

no. 3 shit i’ve been reading: circa march 2016

Fasting Girls: The History of Anorexia Nervosa – Joan Jacobs Brumberg (Found this incredibly illuminating re: sainthood and 16/17th century starvation in the name of religion. Made me think more about the intersections of appetite, power, religion and how this came to a head in that age. The Victorian era sections were also really interesting, I think since I’ve never thought specifically about how food and physical appetite came into the picture even though I’ve known so much about social mores of the time and how that would have been in line? I think reading this overall, esp when they started getting closer to the modern age, I just held this sheer sense of being appalled by medical practice and how eating disorders were treated, viewed and patients subjected to unfair/uncomfortable/even dangerous power dynamics. Feel like it’s so difficult to be a woman, though it’s improving, and my feminist self balked at so much that went on in the book re: this screwed up relationship between physical appetite (sexual and food-related), madonna-whore complexes, freedoms and rebellions and how in the face of so much external pressure women turn inwards and into and on themselves.)

Living Beautifully – Pema Chodron (Last Buddhist book that we had to read for class as part of a course that aimed at understanding the conception of “self” through various lenses e.g. psychoanalytic, evolutionary-biology, religious, etc. Still struggle to reconcile a lot of Buddhist concepts with the reality of a modern nation-state framework that we have to live in. Can see its merits on an individual level but in class, was agitated when the professor seemed to dismiss/relegate discussions of privilege, and power to the sidelines, or equate sufferings that in my mind seem absolutely incompatible. Maybe I’m not “enlightened” yet? Maybe I don’t want to be.)

Brave New World – Aldous Huxley (Liked this more than other sci-fi that i’ve picked up. Can see why it’s a “classic”. also read this at a time when i was very much alone/wanted the experience of solitude. want to pick up more sci-fi in future, wondering why i was biased against this genre in the past??)

Devotional Poems – Joe Hall (didn’t seem clean enough, like some phrases were superfluous/didn’t add anything to the force of a poem. a lot of imagery, sound and fury but with no object or point. cacophonous but i didn’t enjoy this collection)

Once in the West – Christian Wiman (really enjoyed this. at first was disappointed – somehow poems that have monosyllable lines or single word lines strike me as irregular/ineffective (?) but this is unwarranted bias i suppose because a lot of the poems ended up having an unexpected resonance. reading wiman and also other poets in class i think you gain an appreciation for what objectively good poetry is. people say that art is subjective but that’s some bullshit at least at the preliminary stages because being an editor for a creative literary magazine i have read a LOT of bad writing and it is clearly not subjective. anyway, what was i on? always enjoy religious/devotional poetry specifically, and most of the time it is circa 16th/17th century, but wiman combines the modernist poetic aesthetic with something enduring and that always wins me over.)

Why be happy when you can be normal? – Jeanette Winterson (read this over two days, and by that i mean it took slightly over 2+/3 hours to get through it all maybe? incredibly easy to read which was why it went so quickly. liked this a lot and want to read more by winterson)

Nobody is ever missing – Catherine Lacey (read this over three days but grew more exasperated as it progressed. think i’m done with self-indulgence/characters who i perceive as self-indulgent. there is more draw for me, now, i think, to contemplate urgencies to others instead of urgencies only to yourself. i want to read not about escapism but about handling ties to history, ties to others, ties that threaten to envelope you but also uplift. this novel was about a woman who leaves a decent life to stay in a sullen silent space of isolation and somehow i cannot accept that anymore.)

numero dos: shit i’ve been reading circa jan 2016

Completed

The Bone Clocks – David Mitchell (i liked this and the fact that david mitchell writes so comfortably and well about/when placing his narrative in irish/english contexts. re: this book, i guess we handle/respond to mortality differently. the dystopian end made me think about wanting to recycle/be more environmentally-conscious) – January

Civilization and its discontents – Sigmund Freud (read this for class, again with all freud that i’ve read, some resonates and some i call total bullshit on (everything related to his gender theory tbh).

Man’s Search for Himself – Rollo May (read this for class. every time i read something approximating insightful about self-knowledge i somehow find a crack of doubt that then spreads across the text. there was a short segment about physicality and self-consciousness that i could see be true (and even then only in my context), but i lie in the crevice and believe that the self is unknowable so maybe this class is really just an exercise in futility 4 me?)

A General Theory of Love – Lewis et. al. (read for class again. Generally found this interesting, esp because it put a scientific spin on a theory of attachment and human connection. felt like the presence of objective science, though that is debatable, gave credence to the kind of subjective emotions we have all felt, and so was comforting in some small way.)

February: The Moral Animal – Robert Wright (for class again. basically an evolutionary biology perspective/explanation of morality. Interesting to see but idk, something about attributing so many things/our choices, etc. to biology feels inherently…wrong? but maybe that’s his point.)

Mlodinow, Leonard. Subliminal: How Your Unconscious Mind Rules Your Behavior (fascinating but Mlodinow jumps around a lot when writing and it makes me less inclined to believe him?)

What the Buddha Taught – Rahula (feel like the more I read about Buddhism, the more confused I am esp wrt to its metaphysical concepts. felt like a good introduction to something that’s been familiar all my life but i’ve never gotten to know intellectually. but there is something inherent about “unknowable” concepts that may be just shy of religious concepts, but still unacceptable to me)

Four Quartets – TS Eliot (probably one of the best collections of poetry that i’ve ever read. eliot goes into abstractions but grapples with the heart of the matter and there is anguish and brazen honesty and no hesitance to be ugly if that makes sense. need to reread this, probably aloud)

The Monk and the Philosopher – jean-françois revel, matthieu ricard (complicates/simplifies the ideas of buddhism? I can’t quite make up my mind. but the comparison to philosophy and subjecting it to the kind of ‘scientific’ and dialectical method was useful for me to understand it further. that is, beyond metaphors. side note: am q taken with this format of prose—conversation printed)

shit i’ve been reading circa July 2015 

Not that kind of girl – Lena Dunham (felt pretentious at a lot of points) – July

The diving bell and the butterfly – Jean Dominique Bauby (quite good) – July

Madness – Marya Hornbacher (this made me cry) -July

Eat and Run – Scott Jurek (motivation to run as all books about running are) – July

AWOL on the Appalachian trail – David Miller (gets boring if you haven’t been to the AT)

The Omnivore’s Dilemma – Michael Pollen (liked this. made me think about my choices and the exact ethical structure behind it – read also: consider the lobster by david foster wallace for a similar/alternative perspective) – August

What I talk about when I talk about running – Haruki Murakami (long time coming to read this, perfect short prose about the draw of running. feel like most people who enjoy running and associate it with thinking/contemplation will get it) – August

Bad feminist – Roxane Gay (brutal at points, beautiful mostly) – August

Under the banner of heaven – Jon Krakauer (this was incredible. well-researched and comprehensive but extremely smooth narrative about mormon fundamentalism.) – September

Valley of the Dolls – Jacqueline Susann (enjoyed this) – September

Consider the Lobster – David Foster Wallace (title essay is a gem, the rest ranged from obscure to mildly intriguing) – September

Everything I Never Told You – Celeste Ng (above average) – November

The People’s Republic of Amnesia – Louis Lim (emotional reporting, slated to go one way, but expectedly so) – November

History of Chinese Philosophy – Wing-Tsit Chan (need to reread, slowly, and in detail)

Drinking: A Love Story – Caroline Knapp (well-written and need to stop reading memoirs on vice/transferable behaviours) – November

Modern Romance – Aziz Ansari (ok. choice) – November

A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius – Dave Eggers (liked this a lot, eggers has great arrogant style that works) – December

Slade House – David Mitchell (perfect short read. thrilling. fantasy.) – December

Fates and Furies – Lauren Groff (liked this but it ) – December

The Wind-up Bird Chronicle – Haruki Murakami (took a while to get into, but enjoyed this, esp folding routines that appeared in the book into my mind. there is a quietness that steals its way through the pages when the protagonist makes his sandwiches, thinks, goes deep into dry wells) – December