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hopelesslygaysstuff · 8 months

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Hiiiii Char

could you write a fluff oneshot between Agatha Harkness x fem!r? maybe they are having a date and Agatha is just sweet with r

pairing: agatha harkness x fem!reader

summary: your first date with agatha!

content warnings: none

word count: 1.5k+

masterlist

A/N: Hi!! I had a lot of fun writing this, I hope you enjoy!! Sweet Agatha has my heart <3

photo cred: me

The First of Many

The lights around you flickered, their soft warm glow casting a warm ambiance over the cozy little cafe nestled in a quiet corner of the town. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the delicate scent of blooming flowers, creating an inviting atmosphere that seemed to cocoon the space in comfort. The sound of other patrons conversing, the chatter of baristas, and the light rain pattering on the window faded into the background as your attention was captured by illustrious blue eyes.

At a corner table draped in a deep shade of burgundy, you fought the urge to blush for what seemed like the hundredth time tonight. After countless failed talking stages, you’d decided to give up on dating for a while. The woman across from you, however, refused to take no for an answer. After she’d sent a myriad of different colored flowers to your office (you still had them, and smiled everytime you walked into your office), you’d finally agreed to a date.

You were currently speaking excitedly about your newest project, a sequel to your first book. Agatha's eyes sparkled with genuine interest as she leaned in, her hand gently cupping her chin. "And do tell me, my dear, what intrigues you most about writing stories?"

"Well, I've always been fascinated by stories. The way they transport us to different realms, evoke emotions, and connect us with characters—it's like magic in its own right." You said, running out of breath towards the end of your sentence. You found yourself once more lost in Agatha’s vibrant eyes as they traveled over your face, seemingly memorizing every feature.

"Ah, magic," Agatha purred with a playful twinkle in her eyes. "A subject quite close to my heart."

You laughed, sipping on your latte as Agatha’s fingers played with the rim of her own mug. Attempting to turn the conversation onto her, you asked, “What is something you’re passionate about?”

Humming thoughtfully, Agatha sat back in her chair, crossing her arms as she answered. “I’m passionate about my work.” At your gesture for her to continue, she smiled before pulling up a picture on her phone. Turning the screen towards you, she watched your eyes crinkle at the edges as you took in the image of an adorable white rabbit.

“His name is Señor Scratchy,” Agatha said, putting her phone away and cupping her mug with both hands as she smiled at you. “I work with many types of animals as a veterinarian, and the company I work for specializes in rehabilitation. Unfortunately, Señor Scratchy wasn’t selected by any families, so I decided to take him in.”

You watched Agatha as she spoke, the walls around your heart crumbling slightly at the soft smile she was wearing. “Señor Scratchy sounds like an amazing friend, you’ll have to introduce me sometime.”

Blue eyes lit up, and Agatha looked at you for a moment like you hung the moon and the stars. After a second, she coughed lightly and nodded. “I would really like that, and I’m sure Señor Scratchy would love to meet you as well.” She watched you smile into your mug, raising her own to her lips. She’d had enough of talking about herself, and turned the attention back on you with another question about your book.

As you spoke, Agatha watched as your fingers tapped lightly against your mug, the table, and even the rims of your glasses. It was like you couldn’t stay still, your fingers constantly itching to clatter away at a keyboard. Agatha simply adored it, and leaned in, smiling wider at the cute blush that rose to your cheeks at the action.

You weren’t used to so much attention being thrown your way. With every second that passed, you were grateful that Agatha had put so much effort into asking you out, and you wished desperately to reciprocate.

“I was thinking, for our next date, I would love to take you to this cute little park. They have plenty of grass and green space for Señor Scratchy to run around, and there’s always food trucks!” You continued to ramble, talking about which food trucks you wanted to try with her as Agatha rested her chin in her hand, watching you with sparkling eyes.

You paused, having been startled out of your thoughts at the sight of Agatha looking intently at you. “W-what?” You asked, worried that you’d gone overboard. It certainly wouldn’t be the first woman you’ve scared away.

“You’re adorable.” Agatha simply said, her eyes not leaving yours for a second, enjoying the way that you ducked your head at her compliment. “Already planning our second date, darling, while we’re still in the middle of our first one.”

Your mind latched onto the pet name, and you avoided eye contact as you fought to keep your blush down. Was it getting hot? You were incredibly nervous all of a sudden. A cold hand gently cupped your cheek, and you raised your head with wide eyes.

“You alright there, hon?” Agatha’s voice was soothing, and her blue eyes held nothing but sincerity. You nodded, immediately missing the physical contact of her soft hands as she pulled away.

“I hope that wasn’t too forward of me,” You began, pressing your lips together in a shy smile as Agatha shook her head slightly.

Draining the last of her coffee, Agatha stood and offered you her hand. “I would be honored to go on a second date with you, dear.” She smiled down at you, already mentally clearing any other plans she had for the day.

Accepting her hand, you allowed Agatha to pull you up, her grip surprisingly strong. She pulled you closer, leaning in until her lips were inches from your ear. “If you’d like, can we start that second date now?”

Pulling away, Agatha watched your face go through multiple emotions within a few short seconds. Surprise, suspicion, excitement, and happiness. In that order.

Smiling softly, you nodded.

Agatha smiled, the whites of her teeth showing as she pulled you from the cafe. As you navigated down the cobbled streets, wary of any puddles that had formed from the aftermath of the light drizzle that morning, you found yourself taking Agatha’s hand.

It surprised you, how comfortable the action felt, and judging by the way Agatha’s hand tightened against your own, she felt the same. As you strolled along the sidewalk, closing in on the park you’d mentioned, the quiet hum of conversation lingered comfortably in the air.

"Do you believe in first date kisses?" Agatha asked in a playful whisper, a hint of vulnerability shimmering in her eyes. You turned to face her, resting a hand on her shoulder as you pretended to think it through.

A soft breeze swept through, tousling Agatha’s long brown hair and adding an element of serendipity to the moment. Without hesitation, you leaned in with a smile, your lips meeting in a delicate, tender kiss. It was a fleeting yet electrifying connection that left Agatha’s heart racing and a wild blush on your cheeks.

A stupid smile made its home on your lips, and you felt like cheering when you saw the same smile adorning Agatha’s face. She smiled, intertwining her fingers with your own as she pulled you further into the park, muttering something about food trucks and a grumbling stomach.

You allowed yourself to laugh, the sound surprising you as you walked. Amidst the echoes of your doubts, a flicker of hope began to burn brighter within your chest. With each step forward, you felt your insecurities fading slightly as Agatha’s smile grew brighter with every glance she stole towards you. Allowing your mind to drift for a moment, you envisioned a future of yourself with Agatha. The only thing you felt was excitement and contentment, filled with blue eyes and laughter and a promise of love.

“So is this still a first date, or is it now the second?” Agatha asked, her voice playful as you refocused back into the present moment. Her eyes shone as she watched you frown in mock thoughtfulness.

“Well,” You began, pulling her under the shade of a nearby tree. “This is the official end of our first date.” You lightly pushed her backwards, and she raised an eyebrow at you when she felt her back hit the rough bark of the tree.

“The first of many, I hope?” Agatha asked, her hands lightly resting on your hips as you wound your arms around her neck. You smiled playfully, pressing your lips against hers in a brief kiss. Pulling away, you grabbed her hand and pulled, laughing at her surprised expression.

“Of course,” You said, the walls around your heart crumbling completely at the soft look she gave you. The soft sunlight illuminated her features, casting a warm glow that seemed to mirror the newfound warmth in your chest. With a playful twinkle in your eyes, you tugged her towards a small bench, the air alive with the scent of blooming flowers and the soft murmur of a nearby fountain.

As you sat on the bench, one leg pressed against Agatha’s, you let yourself hope. With each soft touch, you hoped. With each stolen glance, you hoped. With each beam of sunlight that dared to touch her skin, and light those dazzling blue eyes, you hoped. And when Agatha finally admitted the extent of her feelings for you, that hope blossomed into something that promised familiarity and content.

And you wouldn’t have it any other way.

#mcu #marvel #marvel mcu #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #first date #agatha harkness fanfic #fluff

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the-slasher-madame · 2 years

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If you're still doing requests: What if the slashers had a S/O who could control animals? (Straight up, this mf could make a group of rats conga line with a few hand movements, lol) Bonus points: Maybe this ability was the reason the slashers didn't kill them initially? (I love your headcanons so far, btw! Especially the geese one, lol I hope you have a lovely day/night!)

HEEHEHEHEHEHEHE I LOVE IT!!!!! Animals r so cool lol. I'm remember Ratcatcher II from The Suicide Squad and I am loving it. For some reason I'm reminded of a story where this one girl did like freeform taxidermy?? Only tenuously connected, but hey my brain is missing a few washers. I'm glad you like the geese!!!! I love geese so, so much. I see them at school and its all heart eyes.

CWs: mentions of violence (it's slashers y'all, they go stab and we go "yes king <3", cursing (think y'all are used to that by now lol), let me know if I missed anything!!!

Vincent Sinclair: I genuinely think this boy is very soft. I firmly believe he loves animals and the soft side of life, so he would love that you have such a connection with animals. I think he'd worry about if the animals are ok when all this happens, but he thinks its so cool. I think he'd beg you to bring animals around so he could pet them and sketch them with a proper model.

I think, in Ambrose, the most likely animals on hand would be squirrels, rabbits, and snakes, none of which he's noticed behave the way they do when you're summoning them for protection. You just make a solid line of defense, and he knows better than to fuck with snakes, so he just stops and waits for Bo. Bo is terrified and probably thinks you're Satan, but Vinny is gonna be absolutely fascinated. He begs Bo to keep you around, and Bo was a little too scared to deny it. Would make sure to get you anything you need if it tires you out and would have food and water on hand for the animals. Jonesy is off-limits, unless she's run off and they can't find her (I feel like you can kinda sense the animals around you??).

Bo Sinclair: I just have a gut feeling that this boy is terrified of supernatural shit, at least if you use that supernatural shit against him lol. He loves asking you to do stuff like this as a party trick. Wants to use you to help when hunting (animals), but would also test to see if you can control humans. I think also in softer moments he would love interacting with animals he usually doesn't get to see up close. And, if he pisses you off, I think you could use the woodland critters to your advantage. . . thefUCK DID THESE SQUIRRELS COME FROM--

Would feel the same way about you controlling Jonesy, using it only if she's lost and possibly in danger (but he's also the type to say "she can handle herself" so he'd wait a little bit). Did not appreciate being attacked by the small creatures when he tried to catch you, but he had his shotgun and you cared for the animals and were getting tired. It was quite the stalemate, and quite the compromise. Would every once in a while ask you to bring animals around for Lester to play with, or for Vinny to use as models, or even for Jonesy to play with. He's a family man, what can I say

Michael Myers (RZ): as per usual, stoic and seems uncaring. He isn't the most gentle person ever (he was raised in an asylum by a fucked up doctor-I'll talk about him later, but he's gonna handle animals like a small child). Rough but trying his best, doesn't mean to hurt them. I think using animals would be a good therapy technique, give him something to learn how to be soft with. Starts to love when you bring animals around, and learns to be gentle. Back to the beginning though: like a cat, rather predictably. Sometimes glares at the animals, especially if they decide he is the new mama. I think he would hiss, but he doesn't talk so he just glowers until the animal wonders away (but their insistence starts to warm his heart).

I think birds would be what save you from Mikey. He's marching after you in the dark nature-y parts of Haddonfield, and you summon birds to swarm him. I don't think he'd really react much to the pecking and scratching, might be more sensitive to the noise, but is overall just curious. Like "well this is new." (I think creativity and novelty is like the key way to get him to spare you). He likes to study, and would absolutely observe your power. Y'all stare at each other while you catch your breathe and the birds swarm the Boogeyman, and eventually he turns and walks off. You start catching sight of him following you, eventually, but he never made a move to harm you so you let it be. Eventually becomes very soft with the animals and loves feeling how soft they are, feeling their warmth and feeling them breathe while they lay next to you on his chest.

Thomas Hewitt: I’m sorry y’all, I’m just convinced that this family is terrified of the supernatural. With every superpower, Thomas is a little freaked, Luda Mae is looking for holy water, Hoyt is convinced the devil has finally come for him (he should be worried more about me), and Monty is laughing at Hoyt. However, I think this power would be one that wouldn’t freak them out as much. Like gee animals?? Hoyt and Monty particularly are gonna think you’re harmless, and Luda is going to be a little hesitant around you but overall think you won’t hurt anyone, and Thomas is gonna be so soft. He thinks it’s the cutest thing ever. Like awwww you’re animal themed 🥺🥺 They’d definitely make you take care of rats and maybe get the animals (if they have any on their farm??) to come to slaughter easier. Thomas wouldn’t like that idea, he wants to keep you protected from all the violent shit, and Hoyt would be pissed if you refused. Will start being an ass and Thomas starts to glare at him... and you call on the rabbits and birds. Hoyt never yells at you again. Ever.

I think more small woodland critters would be the most readily accessible. Rabbits, squirrels, birds (can y’all tell I like birds yet lol?). Rats, you’re going to find rats in the basement ad get them to chew through your bindings. When Tommy comes back and finds you free, terrified, and surrounded by rats, he’s going to go get the rest of the family and let you live. I another one that loves loves loves getting to interact with animals up close. Loves petting rabbit (I also love rabbits). Loves the birds landing on his finger like a Disney princess. Feels bad when he has to butcher pigs, and keeps you away from the family cannibal business at all costs. Understands that you’re connected to animals and doubts its any easier when its you know...humans. Mesmerized by you, your powers, and your looks

Brahms Heelshire: he’s a bit conflicted. One one hand, this boy was undoubtably a bookworm, I mean what else could he do while being exiled to the walls?? Anyways, he feels like you’re a character from his childhood books and it makes him love you even more, already associating you with pleasant memories. On the other hand, what the fuck people aren’t supposed to do that????? I think he learns about your power while he’s still in the walls, and he gets over it pretty quickly seeing how careful you are with the doll and other critters you find around the mansion. You refuse to use the rat traps and at first he’s a little annoyed, but then he sees your power and starts to understand why. I think when y’all finally do meet, he’s trying to be as non-threatening as possible and you have gathered an army of rats. He doesn’t move toward you, just starts talking softly and trying to explain who he is. You’d eventually have to ask him to repeat it all cause you were busy trying to not have a heart attack and a stroke at once. Y’all manage to come to an understanding.

While out of the walls, he will pester you with as many questions as he can get out of his mouth. He’s a curious boy, what can I say? I think, like Mikey, he would be a little rough on the animals first before learning to properly handle them. For the love of every god, please use the animals like therapy animals. He can play and pet with them while also learning to confront the trauma of his bullshit parents. I think he would really like rabbits, cause he has the childlike center, and could learn to be decently ok with the rats but I don’t think he will touch them. When deer wander through, he gets super excited. I think he would warm up to a cat or a dog in the house. WAIT NO HE’D MAKE A DOLL OF THE PET TO MATCH HIS DOLL AWWWWWWW!!! Would also probably make woodland dolls. He’d be happy that his doll isn’t lonely anymore :D

Alright, I’ve got the first 5. Let me know if y’all want more!!! I love fluff like this its so cuteeee And n case it wasn’t obvious, I really like birds and rabbits (my favorite plushies are rabbis :3). I can’t tell y’all how honored I feel to be getting requests and follows and just I’m soft 🥺. I’ve never been real popular or had like a solid community of my own so this is all really special to me, and I will be thanking y’all as often as possible <33333

#slashers #slasher x reader #Vincent sinclair #vincent sinclair x reader #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #rz michael myers #rz michael myers x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #brhams heelshire #brahms heelshire x reader #slasher fluff #slasher community

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virtie333 · 8 months

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Let's talk Damerey.

I ended up being a VERY general fan during the SW sequels. Like...none of the ships bother me. FinnPoe? Fine. Damerey? Fine. Kylo and whomever, sure. I guess. I just want them to live and be happy.

Anyway, when did your Damerey journey start? I think I read at one point they had thought about making Poe and Rey a thing? But I guess the visions of the differing directors didn't allow for it? Did I make that up in my head?

I understand the appeal of that ship as well as FinnPoe or whatever it's called. I mean, it's Poe, so who wouldn't be obsessed lol

Anyway, thoughts?

Also, do you like to stick to Damerey fics for Poe or do you also like xreader with Poe?

Oh, boy. This might take a while.

I can honestly say I've been Damerey a lot longer than I've been a fan of Oscar Isaac. I became Damerey right after The Force Awakens. But here's the thing, I was Reylo, too. What? Okay, let me explain. I love the 'good girl falls for bad boy' trope, but I've always been realistic about it; the bad boy can't be horrible bad and has to become good eventually. I loved the idea of Rey bringing Ben back from the Dark Side, but... what he did to his father (my first love and still the one I compare to all other crushes) is unforgivable. I knew Ben Solo would NOT have a happy ending. Therefore, Rey needed to have her happily ever after with someone else. Finn or Poe? I loved them both, but I do have a thing for pilots, so I chose Poe.

The Last Jedi only increased my interest in both ships. The connection between Rey and Ben was fascinating. But... that last scene between Rey and Poe? I remember commenting to my brother after our first viewing, "They have to be planning something between them after that! Right?"

I went into the last movie wondering which way (if either) they were going to take it. I told myself I would be happy with either, and even if Rey chose no one; after all, she doesn't need a man to make her happy. But I am a hopeless romantic. After the first argument between Poe and Rey, where I nudged my brother (who I saw all 3 movies with) and said "They're just like Han and Leia!", I had hopes.

But... they failed to continue with that bright start. And with the kiss between Ben and Rey at the end, I was pretty much resolved to settle for Reylo. And that was my focus for the first couple of month after the movie. But then something strange happened. A fellow Reylo fan, who had defended the first two movies despite all the hate going on, started bemoaning how 'Rey would never be happy now,' and she 'would never get to have babies,' etc. etc. And that pissed me off. Big Time. She had options, dammit! She could stay single and raise Force sensitive orphans. She had Finn. And of course, she had Poe. So, I wrote Rising, my first fanfic in almost 20 years.

When the pandemic hit, and I ended up working part-time, I decided I needed to continue with this post-movie world I had created. I still had a soft spot for Ben, and it shows up in my early works, but I wanted to make Rey and Poe find their happily ever after. Then something else strange happened. In one of my stories, Kennera, I wrote a scene from Poe's POV. Suddenly, I wanted to know more about the actor who portrayed him. And I found this...

youtube

That was that. I was hooked on this man. I started watching everything I could with him in it. And I continued to write Damerey, falling more and more deeply into that ship. Reylo became less and less interesting to me, and now I could care less about it. Damerey is everything to me. And it's been that way for almost three years now. I just freaking love them with everything in me.

To answer your question about the ship almost becoming canon, yes it almost did. Colin Trevorrow's script The Duel of the Fates almost became the third movie, and it included a lot more Rey/Poe interaction, even a kiss or two. Some say it's why that scene at the end of The Last Jedi was added, to introduce that attraction. But alas, it didn't happen.

If you had asked me two years ago if I had read any Poe x Reader stories, I would have scoffed at you. I am a reader of novels and I write in the same style and always will, so why would I read that? But... I've read several amazing writers that write in that style since then, and I have become addicted. I know I will never write that way, but I will enjoy others.

I think the fact that I don't write that way is the reason why no one on Tumblr (other than a few trusted friends) ever reads and shares my stuff. It's a bit lonely sometimes, but it is what it is.

Damerey forever!

Art by @greysmartwolf

#ask box #ivystoryweaver #damerey #jedipilot #poe x rey #my story #oscar isaac #writing #i bet you're sorry you asked!#lol

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missmaywemeetagain · 1 year

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Broken Glass Chapter 3 (Elvis/Austin!Elvis x OC Reader)

Character/Fandom: Elvis Presley - Elvis (2022)

Read More Here - Broken Glass Masterlist! 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Prompt: You are Dolores Cannava, a young Italian-American nurse desperate to make her own way in the world and break free of her dysfunctional mafia-connected family and traumatic past. Elvis Presley is just returning home from his two-year stint in the Army, looking more handsome than ever, but feeling the pressure to successfully find his way back to the stratospheric career he was forced to leave behind. In a twisted turn of fate, Elvis finds himself in the hospital where your paths cross. Forced to harbor his potentially career-ending secret and needing to escape a terrifying future in New York, you are pulled into his unusual world and must endure a begrudging fake relationship with Elvis in order to protect his reputation (and his life).

TW: Sexual assault (not described in too much detail). Dissociation. Mentions of physical abuse. Coercion. The Colonel. Some historical inaccuracies.

Tags: Fake relationship. Slow burn. Angst. (Sort of) enemies to lovers. Hurt/Comfort.

Rating: R (but this story will eventually be Mature/NSFW, 18+, so minors Do NOT Interact) || Word Count: 5.9k

A/N: Happy Broken Glass Wednesday, y'all! 💔🥂❤️‍🩹 I'm going to try to put out a chapter a week on Wednesdays (we shall see if I can keep up lol). Thank you for your lovely responses to Chapter 2 and I'm so glad people are finding the premise and E's health to be as fascinating as I do!

Please read the trigger warnings for this chapter. While not super graphic or in detail, this chapter delves into some dark things related to both sexual and physical assaults that are the catalysts for Dolores' decisions going forward and could definitely be triggering to some readers. It's not the whole chapter by any means--the actual moment is very short, but it is referenced in her desperation to forget what has happened to her and to escape her situation.

As always, I love and live for your reactions, comments, asks, and reblogs, so thank you in advance for both reading and giving another one of my stories a chance!

I imagined it with Elvis in mind, but Austin!Elvis works here, too, whatever floats your boat.

Apologies in advance if there are any grammatical errors or TW that I didn't catch.

I’ve used the tag list from Pink Scarf, and added those who requested it, so please let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!

Story is cross-posted to my Wattpad and AO3, if you prefer those reading experiences!

Usually, the subway threatens to rock you to sleep after your night shifts. It is rather quiet in comparison to the trains headed into Manhattan, filled to the brim with workers of all kinds who are headed in from the boroughs. A bonus of working nights has been the less crowded and frenzied rides as you are heading out of the city while everyone else is going in. But this morning, every time you close your eyes, those brilliant yet stormy sapphires stare back at you with amusement. You can’t even focus on the book you’ve brought without your mind wandering back to the strange encounter with Elvis, wondering why he’d chosen you of all people to bother.

Heat flares through you again at how maddening he was in such a short amount of time, but you are self-aware to recognize that while the heat is mostly frustration at his actions and the repercussions they caused you, it also speaks the tiniest bit of how his pointed, beautiful gaze made you feel a little off kilter. You are annoyed that you can’t seem to forget how lovely he looked asleep in the bed.

Not asleep. Unconscious.

And that reminder strikes dread in your heart. The words in his chart (which I shouldn’t have looked at in the first place) make you feel uneasy because this secret is likely to cause untold repercussions if discovered. Considering the fervor surrounding his draft into the Army, you can only imagine the emotions of the female populace if they learn the truth about their beloved idol’s health.

You shift in your seat uncomfortably, the weight of your knowledge an unwelcome pressure on your psyche. It’s your own fault of course. But the empathy that serves you well in the hospital also has you feeling sad for the poor man, despite your annoyance. You may not be a fan, but you can’t deny the man’s talent and impact on the world. Thousands, millions even, will be devastated when…

No. It’s none of your business. You shouldn’t even know who the VIP is, much less be worrying about the man’s future. You have much more pressing things to worry about.

Those worries take hold with each step towards the house where you live. It’s certainly not a home, not anymore, and hasn’t been for a very, very long time. Your mother’s untimely death assured that.

Part of the excitement of getting into nursing school, even one as close as Bellevue, was that you were required to live in the dormitory. Four whole years in a tiny closet of a room, clad with only a single bed and a tiny desk and a small sink. For many of the girls it was torture but for you it was sweet relief. Peace. Safety.

But the day after graduation, you’d been forced right back into the viper’s nest, unable to find a place to share with anyone else, certainly not before you’d secured the job you now are desperate to hang onto, the one thing that will hopefully secure that freedom for you.

A heaviness settles over you the moment you hit the doorway and you say a silent prayer that you are late enough to have missed breakfast. Another bonus to nights is the fact that you have a viable excuse to not interact with your volatile father, Pop, because he, along with your younger brothers, are often gone by the time you trudge through the door.

But said door is unlocked, a sure sign that you’re too early and the dread you’d felt on the train about a man you barely know is nothing compared to the fear that settles in your stomach at the sounds of breakfast in the dining room.

You tiptoe down the hall in an attempt to remain unseen, your breath held as though it will somehow make you invisible. It’s only two big steps past the open door of the dining room but those steps might as well be a ravine. You make a break for it all the same.

“Dolores!” Pop’s voice sends you ramrod straight, but the tone of it is not the usual gruffness and distain. No, this is the voice for company, the one that covers all the dirty little secrets that permeate the walls of this house.

“Look who stopped by! Aren’t you glad to see our old friend?” Pop says in that saccharine voice.

You pull your gaze up and right into the black eyes of another man you don’t want to see but have to act as though you do.

“Hello, Gianni,” you force out of your mouth as neutrally as possible, but you grip your purse tight enough that your knuckles turn white.

“My beautiful Dolores! It’s been too long, bella,” Gianni coos at you, rounding the table to press an unwanted kiss to your cheek. He lingers too long, his hands like heavy weights on your biceps. Every ounce of you wants to push the snake away but you cannot, not here in front of Pop and your brothers. Gianni is too important in the community and disrespecting him would have consequences.

“You are a hard woman to get ahold of, Lori,” he purrs in your ear, using the nickname that is reserved for close relations and friends. This angers you but you are tired and weary and correcting him would only spell trouble.

“I was just telling Gianni how that hospital is working you to the bone, keeping you up nights, and that’s why you haven’t returned his calls,” Pop says pointedly, the clear message underneath being “Why the hell haven’t you called him back?”

Your heart sinks into your stomach. You hadn’t called him back because you are avoiding him like the plague. Because you know he’s going to ask you out on a date and the result will be him asking you a question you do not want to answer.

Gianni has had his sights set on you since you’d hit puberty. Thankfully your youth saved you, as the seven years between you two was a great enough span that even your father did not approve of it in those early years. Then, nursing school kept you out of the fray, beyond a few well-chaperoned dates. But now that you’ve come of age and are back home, you’ve felt the crawl of him under your skin, getting closer and closer.

The fact that he wants you at all is crazy. Gianni’s father Salvatore is one of the “pillars of the community,” the Consigliere—the right-hand man of the boss of this crime family. He’s one of the most important figures in this dysfunctional community you live in. Being a woman, you aren’t supposed to know any details, of course, but it is impossible not to know at least some of what goes on in the famiglia. Especially when your father has been coming home covered in blood and bruises and smelling of gunpowder since you were a small child.

You aren’t supposed to know your father is a soldier, a violent underling sent to do all the dirty work for the boss. It’s hard to deny, though, since his temper and aggressiveness are never just left at “work.” Unfortunately for you, Pop’s somewhat lower position in the hierarchy has not disqualified you from being courted by Gianni; in fact, with approval from his father and the boss, Gianni has every right to pursue you.

However, to the dismay of all parties, you do not want to be pursued. Not by Gianni. He is handsome with his dark hair and olive skin, yes, but ruthless, set to devour anything in his path. He wants to possess you. Own you.

His near-black eyes shine with it even now, this need of his to collect what he believes is his due. You are well aware that he has intentions to marry you—the beauty and intelligence you inherited from your mother has seen to that. And since it’ll raise Pop’s stature in the famiglia, he has been pushing you towards Gianni one way or another since Gianni took an interest. Only your mother had been hesitant, but when she died, all hope was lost.

An arranged marriage in a modern world.

So, no, you haven’t returned Gianni’s calls because once you do, he’ll take you out and then he will propose, and you’ll be expected to accept. That has been made crystal clear by your father. Once that happens your life is over. Nursing will be over. Any independence you’ve gained will be gone, and you’ll be shackled for eternity to another cruel man and forced to bear his children and look pretty and happy while you do it.

Which means the fact that Gianni is here, now, is very bad news indeed.

“Sorry, I’ve been busy with so many shifts. The new nurses get nights,” you say, as though you didn’t love the night shift.

“Of course, of course,” he tuts, “which is why I am here to take you to breakfast.”

It is not a question.

Your heart drops so quickly it makes your stomach queasy, like you are on a roller coaster you cannot get off. The trapped feeling has panic swelling in your throat. Pop looks at you expectantly, with both warning and excitement flashing on his face.

You cannot refuse the invitation.

“I-I’m a mess, Gianni, and I haven’t slept,” you sputter out in a last-ditch effort to escape this.

The way his hand trails down your arm to grasp your hand makes your skin itch and you resist the urge to yank away from his grip. “You have to eat, bella. Go fix yourself up real quick, I’ll wait. And I’ll have you home at a decent hour,” he finishes with a wink.

You don’t trust yourself to speak because the bile rising behind your panic threatens to give your feelings away. Instead, you just nod and smile before heading up the narrow stairs to your room.

A quick change into a nicer dress, along with a wash-up and unpinning your hair is all it takes to make yourself presentable, but you find yourself stalling for as long as possible. You wish you could be tittering with the excitement that every woman deserves when they get engaged, but Gianni is a man you do not and will not ever love. You can barely stand to be in his presence, much less marry the man.

The walk down the stairs is more like marching to your funeral rather than a date. You manage to plaster a half-pleasant look on your face, but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

Gianni is the picture of patience standing next to your father in the foyer in his expensive suit, reeking of Acqua di Parma cologne. It makes you nauseous.

“Oooh, Lori’s going on a date!” your youngest brother Paul teases as you walk by him. This sad spectacle has gathered a crowd of your 18-year-old twin brothers, Tony and John, and 16-year-old Paul.

“Stai zitto, and get outta here! Go get ready for school!” Pop hisses at the boys and they scatter, but not before Tony gives you a knowing look that only you catch. The glance is as full of trepidation as you are.

Pop practically pushes you into Gianni’s waiting arms with that deferential, schmoozing smile and betrayal boils in your blood. A father is supposed to protect his daughter, not serve her to the wolves on a silver platter.

But your betrayal is quickly replaced by repulsion when the heat of Gianni’s hand resting on your lower back bleeds through your dress. He leads you outside and into the back of the waiting car, then slides in next to you, too close. Ignoring the driver, he makes small talk on the way to the restaurant, one that should be closed at this hour, but for the son of the Consigliere, it is open and staffed, though you are the only customers.

You resist the urge to balk when he orders for you and are monumentally uncomfortable being alone with him like this. His predatory eyes are focused solely on your every movement, so you attempt to be the picture of congeniality, as your culture has trained you to be since birth: pleasant, polite, demure. Underneath the façade, your heart pounds against your ribcage because you are unable to stop the collision you know is coming.

Barely able to eat the food in front of you, you resort to tiny bites and pushing the rest around the plate as inconspicuously as possible.

“You don’t need to be nervous, bella,” he states, seeming almost amused by your anxiousness. He flicks his wrist and the waiter appears out of nowhere to clear the plates. “And I know you are tired from slaving away all night at that hospital, but soon you won’t need to worry about any of that.”

The surety of that statement makes your stomach roll. Gianni pulls a small velvet box from the inside pocket of his coat and places it in front of you on the table. Your heart is a jackhammer against your sternum. You think you might pass out.

“My bella,” he purrs, getting up, then sliding into the booth next to you, trapping you in, “I think you know I’ve had my eye on you for quite a while now. Of course, I had to let you finish your schooling, let you grow up into the lovely woman you are now…”

Let me? you bristle internally, as if it were ever up to him, as if you ever needed his permission in the first place.

“But now it is time to let me take care of you and give you the life you deserve,” he finishes, opening the box in front of you to reveal a ridiculously large and gaudy diamond ring.

You are frozen, wanting so badly to tell him where to shove his ring and flee as fast and as far as possible. But instead, you can’t seem to move to stop Gianni from grabbing your shaking hand and placing it upon your trembling ring finger.

“Be my wife,” he says.

A command, not a question. One to which you don’t respond. Gianni takes your silence as acceptance, however, taking the single tear that spills down your cheek as one of happiness and not distress. He brushes it off your face with the backs of his fingers and you want to flinch, scream, anything that will tear you away from this union, but all you do is give him a tight smile and try not to sob outright.

Fight, goddamnit! your mind screams. But you can’t. You are imprisoned in your fear and despair, trapped by propriety, shackled by the responsibility to your family, to your brothers. Because a refusal would blow back on them as much as it would on you.

So, you don’t pull away when Gianni’s hand grips your chin or when he presses a kiss onto your lips. You’ve only been kissed once, by the boy who took you to the prom. You’ve been far too busy to date these past few years, much less kiss anyone, but at least that experience was enjoyable and coupled with butterflies. This kiss is devoid of anything other than a feeling of disgust. It seems to mark you as his possession, his cold lips making your stomach turn once again.

The rest is a blur as he brings you home, inviting himself inside. For once, you wish your father was home because the hungry look in Gianni’s eyes promises nothing good for you as he walks in behind you, into the too-silent house.

You fumble for the right words, the words that will make him leave so you can mourn the loss of your freedom in peace, but once he realizes the house is empty, he turns to you and pushes you into the wall. He is much taller than you, his muscular limbs so much stronger than your flailing ones as he pens you in.

The next kiss is hard and rough, all teeth and tongue. You press your arms against his chest in an attempt to push him away, but it does nothing but urge him on. Dizzy from the effort and drowning in the heaviness of his cologne, you barely make a dent in defending yourself against the assault of his lips on yours.

“Gianni, stop,” you finally breathe out, but he seems to take this as encouragement, nuzzling into your neck, his lips pulling and nipping at your skin. You can’t find the strength to push him off, to scream, to do anything other than whimper while his hands grope and wander places on your body that no man’s have gone before.

You pray for it to end. And when he grabs your hand and forces it down, down, down to feel the hardened length in his slacks, you go far, far away. You disappear into the same fog that takes you every time Pop goes ballistic, only realizing the truth of what happened when you come back into yourself later, feeling the pain of the bruises on your ribs, or seeing them on Mama, back when she was still alive to take them for you.

So, it shouldn’t be a surprise when you wake up much later in your bed, on top of the covers, your clothes in disarray. It’s not until you register the heaviness on your ring finger that you remember your engagement and the feel of Gianni’s meaty hands on you.

Barely making it across the hall to the bathroom, you vomit up what little you managed to eat for breakfast at the restaurant. Once the heaving stops, the shaking begins.

But you do not cry.

Rinsing out your mouth and splashing water on your face, you don’t, no, can’t, think about what may have happened once you faded away. You push away the thoughts of why your body feels sore and bruised in places it shouldn’t and why you can still smell the stink of his expensive cologne lingering on your dress and your skin.

No, no, no.

Disorientation makes you blink slowly as you come back into yourself and into the present, and you make your way back into your room. Your eye catches the clock and suddenly you feel wide awake.

Dammit!

You slept too long and are close to missing your train into the city for work, which today starts earlier than normal due to the fact you stupidly agreed to cover the end of your friend Sally’s shift so she could go on a date.

There is no time, then, to linger in despair. You race to rip off your dress and throw on a clean uniform, one thankfully already pressed and ready to go, pushing away the dark thoughts threatening to consume you. A pass of a comb through your messy locks and a few pins help you look somewhat put together and you slip on your white shoes, grabbing your bag.

The sparkling on your finger makes you pause long enough to tear the ring from your hand and throw it onto your vanity. If anyone asks, you don’t want to wear a ring like that into the city.

Flying down the stairs, you avoid the questions budding in Pop’s mouth with a “I’m late!” as you rush out the door. By the time you reach the station, you are breathless, but are just in time to make your train.

Exhaustion weighs on you as the adrenaline in your blood wanes. You slept today, but do not feel rested, and you pretend you don’t know why that is. It’s the last thing you want to think about.

Engaged. I’m engaged. To a monster. And he hurt me.

Your breath hitches in time with the rocking of the train, panic creeping its way back in.

No. Not now.

The urge to climb out of your skin, or at least scrub it raw under the locker room showers at work, must wait. You are grateful that you have to hit the ground running as soon as you step through the front doors of the bustling hospital. One emergency leads into the next and you barely have time to think past the next crisis, much less worry about what happened earlier today or the terror your future holds once you leave this hospital tomorrow morning.

“Nurse Cannava!” Nurse Hunt calls for you, her voice dropping once you approach, “Dr. Paulson is in with our VIP patient, and he is needed urgently. Go get him for me, and don’t get distracted by our patient this time, will you?”

“Yes, Nurse Hunt,” you say quickly, the dig not even bothering you. You’d take a lifetime of them in lieu of what waits for you outside this hospital. Fingers tittering nervously, you find yourself hoping that Elvis does not blame you for what happened last night. Though the way this day is going, you wouldn’t be surprised to find him combative towards you. And perhaps you deserve it after the way you treated him (even if he was being an ass).

The scene you are met with when you arrive at Elvis’ room is not what you are expecting, however.

“L-L-Little bird,” Elvis stutters, but it is not with the air of confidence he exuded last night. It is not aloofness or displeasure.

Your annoyance at the nickname, along with the smallest bit of relief that he is up and talking, quickly turns to apprehension. Much to your confusion, Elvis seems almost reverent as he stares at you, like you’d descended from the heavens or something.

Must be the head injury, you think, trying to make sense of him.

The other three men crammed into the tiny room all turn to stare at you at once, eyes wandering over you far longer than necessary, as though you are both interrupting something important yet are expected at the same time.

Why in God’s name are they all looking at me like that?

Elvis’ churning oceanic eyes lock onto yours and are loaded with such emotion that you can’t begin to sort through it, and you have to tear your gaze away. You manage to sputter out Nurse Hunt’s request to the doctor and instead of replying, the lot of them turn to Elvis, as though he has any say in it.

The silence sits heavy, and Elvis’ pale cheeks turn a little pink, almost bashfully, as you look at him again. He stares at you in an unreadable way, as though taking in every bit of you, as though seeing you for the first time. Confusion rushes over you in a self-conscious wave.

Have I done something wrong? Is this about snapping at him last night?

You shift uncomfortably, trying to piece together what is going on. But with everything that has happened in the last 24 hours, your brain can’t seem to put anything together other than that this group of men have lost their minds.

“I’ll be right there, Nurse,” Dr. Paulson finally states, looking back at you almost regretfully but you don’t take the time to try and figure out why. You are just grateful to be dismissed and leave the strange scene. In fact, with one crisis after another on the ward this shift, you put it out of your mind completely.

Until Dr. Paulson pulls you aside in the early morning hours, that is.

The doctor looks uncomfortable, his face in a grimace, when he leads you into a quiet corner.

Oh, Madone, I’m going to be fired. As if this day can get any worse. Your heart pounds and you fight back the tears that prickle behind your eyes.

“Nurse Cannava, I know this is going to be unorthodox…” he begins, and suddenly your mind jumps to another, equally disturbing place. The man is wearing a wedding ring, for God’s sake. And is old enough to be your father. You’d never taken the doctor to be that kind of man, but he interrupts your thoughts by continuing, “…but are you interested in private nursing?”

Now that is not what you were expecting. Relief floods through you, followed quickly by bewilderment.

“Excuse me, Doctor, private nursing? What do you mean?”

“Well, um, you see, Mr. Presley is going to need some discreet and rather specific care going forward,” he whispers, “and it seems as though you, um, fit the bill, so to speak, to take care of him exclusively.”

You fight to hold back the laugh that wants to escape your mouth at the pure absurdity of the situation. Elvis wants you of all people, the nurse who nearly took his head off last night, who sent him into respiratory distress, to take care of him exclusively? A day ago, you would have told him to shove his offer where the sun don’t shine.

But things have changed dramatically for you in the last day.

“I know it sounds strange, and certainly you’ve done great work here, but might you be willing to discuss this with his manager?

You cross your arms and worry your lip in between your teeth. The words fall out of your mouth before you can think too much on it.

“Yes, I’ll speak to him.”

Dr. Paulson sighs and nods, walking you down the corridor to a small waiting room. Your heart pounds in your ears as you are led inside.

“Colonel Parker, this is Nurse Cannava,” Dr. Paulson says, in a bristled tone that insinuates he doesn’t particularly care for the portly, balding man standing near the window you assume is Elvis’ manager. Colonel Parker turns to you, and you immediately get the sense the man is not to be trusted. Being around criminals who pretend they aren’t ones your whole life has given you a sixth sense for this sort of thing.

“Ah, Nurse Cannava, how lovely to meet you. We have much to discuss. I’m Colonel Tom Parker, Elvis’ manager.” Colonel Parker motions for you to sit in the chair across from him. He attempts to wave off Dr. Paulson, but the doctor does not go, choosing to stand in the doorway instead, seemingly wary to leave you alone with this stranger, and for that you are silently appreciative.

“And of course, this conversation must remain completely private, no matter what you decide. I’m sure a smart girl like you can understand the sensitivity of the situation,” he continues, leaning back in his chair, his casual position in direct contrast of his words.

“Of course,” you nod.

“Good. Now I’ll get right to it. After speaking with your supervisor, I know you are already aware that Elvis is quite…unwell.”

An understatement, to say the least.

“Yet I’m sure you also know how important Elvis is to so many people like yourself. Are you a fan, Miss Cannava?” he asks suddenly.

“Um, not especially, Mr. Parker,” but you rush to add, “It’s not as though I dislike his music, I’m just not one of those girls who, uh, fawns over him, sir.” You try and remain as neutral as possible because you get the feeling this question is some sort of test.

“Hmm,” is all he gives you in response. He looks you up and down with a careful beady eye and you resist squirming in your seat. Instead, you straighten your spine and lift your chin, your only tell being the way you tightly grasp your hands in your lap. His look is not a leer so much as an assessment as he takes in every inch of you.

After a moment he nods—you seem to have passed muster.

“This is an incredibly unique situation, my girl, which I’m sure you can appreciate. Elvis needs discreet, around-the-clock care, according to Dr. Paulson here,” he says with distain, “but we can’t have the world knowing that Elvis is ill. It would do irreparable harm to both his career and his fans.”

He is talking as if Elvis will have a career with his diagnosis, you think in surprise.

Colonel Parker must read this on your face. “You must understand, he loves his work, my dear, and nothing will keep him from it. Or his fans. Which is where you come in.”

“I assume I would just be there to take care of Elvis when he needs it, and to make sure he takes his medications and such?” you say.

“Well, it’ll be much more involved than that, my dear.”

You look at Dr. Paulson, who’s mouth is set in a line, as though he’s attempting not to add something to that statement.

“What do you mean, involved?” you ask.

“Firstly, you will need to live and travel with him,” he starts.

You nod. You figured as much, which is honestly why you are even considering this in the first place.

“But you see, no one can know you are his nurse. Elvis must appear, for all intents and purposes, the picture of health.”

Narrowing your eyes, you ask, “I’m sorry, I’m not sure I’m understanding, sir. How am I supposed to live and travel with the man to administer medical care without anyone knowing?”

Colonel Parker looks at Dr. Paulson, and then at you, a strange smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “You’ll be his girlfriend, of course.”

You choke at that. You can’t have heard him correctly. “Excuse me? I’ll be his what?”

“You will play the roleof his doting girlfriend, while secretly being his nurse. It was love at first sight, you see. Our handsome soldier comes to from a simple bump on the head and falls instantly in love with a beautiful young nurse, sweeping her right off her feet and into his life. Quite the storybook fairytale, wouldn’t you say?” he smiles that shifty smile.

Your heart flutters as fast as a hummingbird’s. “You…you can’t be serious. I—he—” you stutter.

“Oh, I couldn’t be more serious,” he says, the smile falling from his face. “I’ve been told this situation is life and death, my dear, and Elvis needs someone like you to help keep him alive.”

Silence falls and you can’t help but gape. But your mind whirls with the possible implications and how they might get you out of your current situation. If you weren’t desperate, you’d laugh in this man’s face, but your situation, and Elvis’ for that matter, are both quite dire.

Desperate times call for desperate measures.

“Of course, you would be extremely well compensated for your trouble. That’s in addition to room and board, since you will be staying with Elvis. But you will have to leave your current life behind to sell your relationship both to the public at large and to both his and your friends and families for this to work,” he adds.

It’s completely, utterly insane. You don’t even like Elvis, so you’re not sure how you’re supposed to pretend to be in love with him, while at the same time having to secretly tend to his medical needs. You can’t in your right mind see how this will work. You are no actress.

But that fraught voice in your head is thinking about your survival, about that engagement ring sitting on your vanity and the expectations that go with it. About what has already been taken from you because of it. You push those thoughts as far back as they will go, but the fear remains because you know that if you stay, any scrap of independence you have will be gone, and you will live the rest of your life with a horrible snake of a man.

You’ve been wrestling with a way to escape since Gianni put that ring on your finger, claiming you as his, against your will. But as a single woman with hardly any money and nowhere to go, your options to run are limited. And if you run, with the resources of the famiglia, you know you would be found quickly and your punishment would be painful, if not deadly.

But with Elvis, you’d be cared for—you’d have money, you’d be travelling, and you assume that with his fame, Elvis has a wealth of protection at his disposal. As long as you are close to him, and with the relationship being so public, you realize Elvis might be the only one who can protect you from Gianni and your father.

They wouldn’t dare do something to me if I’m Elvis Presley’s girlfriend. They won’t be able to touch me.

You choose not to think too much on how you still would be giving up some of your freedom. How you will still be tied to and at the mercy of a man. You don’t think about how long you might need to keep up this act and what might happen if you decide to leave. No, all you know is that as much as Elvis might annoy you, he seems like a decent man. He does not seem the type to hurt you, and you’ll be his employee, not his true girlfriend, anyway. You will still be nursing and earning money while doing so.

I can figure out the rest later.

“Perhaps it is asking too much. I know not every woman would be up for the task—”

“I’ll do it,” you interrupt Colonel Parker.

His eyes widen with surprise, which you get the impression is hard to do with this man. “You will?”

“As long as Elvis approves and that we have a contract with established rules and such. I think I’m safe in assuming I won’t be required to, well, beyond playing it up in front of others I won’t be required to…to do anything untoward,” you say, not being able to keep yourself from blushing at the implication.

“Of course not, of course not, my dear!” Colonel Parker hurries to say once he picks up on your meaning. “It’ll all be on the up and up and respectable. We would never ask you to compromise yourself like that.”

You nod, trying to still your shaking hands. You don’t trust Colonel Parker as a person, but if there is a legal contract, he can’t force you to do anything you don’t agree to.

“Then I will do it. When do I start?” You hope it’s as soon as possible. Frankly, you’d leave this hospital with the lot of them right now if it meant you didn’t have to go back to that house again.

The smile that spreads across his face unnerves you but does not scare you. Not like the other men in your life.

“Excellent, my dear. I will get that contract set up for you immediately, while Dr. Paulson apprises you of your medical duties. You’ll begin as soon as you sign on the dotted line,” he says. “Then we will get you in with Elvis. You both will have a lot to talk about, I am sure.”

You gulp and your heart flips in your chest. Part of you fears all the things you don’t know about what you are walking into: about Elvis, his lifestyle, and what you will have to do to convince the world you are Elvis Presley’s girlfriend. But it will all be worth it if you can get away from marrying Gianni or staying with your father.

Mother Mary, they will be furious.

But by then you’ll be long gone, safely tucked away by Elvis’ side.

And, strangely, that gives you more comfort than you could have ever hoped for.

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isfjmel-phleg · 2 months

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January 2024 Books

The Journey of the Shadow Bairns by Margaret J. Anderson

Decent middle-grade historical fiction. I don't recall having any strong feelings about it one way or another.

Searching for Shona by Margaret J. Anderson

I can understand why the ending of this book went the way it did, but from a thematic standpoint it was rather unsatisfying.

Thicker Than Water by Penelope Farmer

Well-written, as Farmer's books usually are, but a combination of attitudes that haven't aged well and weird supernatural elements didn't really work for me.

The Castle Family by Rosalie K. Fry

A cute story. My younger self would have been fascinated by the setting.

Between Frames by W. R. Gingell

I have nothing intelligent to say about this series, but I am enjoying the character dynamics a lot.

The Rosemary Tree by Elizabeth Goudge

Standard Goudge, with beautiful prose and thoughtfully-developed characters.

Castle Tourmandyne by Monica Hughes

Liked it well enough, I think.

Cart and Cwidder by Diana Wynne Jones

I had trouble keeping up with the worldbuilding (not necessarily the book's fault--high fantasy generally isn't my thing) and connecting with the characters, but it was a standard twisty DWJ book.

Three Margarets by Laura Elizabeth Richards

The antique edition that the lending library sent, with its beautiful cover and illustrations, was the best part. I didn't especially care for the story.

The Rise and Fall of Mount Majestic by Jennifer Trafton

I liked the set-up of this one but lost interest as the plot progressed.

Ginnie and Geneva by Catherine Woolley

...I honestly have no memory of how I felt about this one. Must have been deeply impactful.

Comics

Stephen McCranie's Space Boy Omnibus 4 + all other installments to date on Webtoon

This is the one thing I got particularly excited about all month. The characters are endearing, the plot is engaging, and the themes are resonant. I think a lot of you guys would enjoy it!

Black Condor

I think I read this short-lived series because of connections to Ray's 1994 solo. A lot of unanswered questions, some elements that really really have not aged well, but the concept of a hero who doesn't consider himself a hero and just wants to be left alone to live in the woods like some kind of cryptid...has its charm. (He does not get his wish. And he ends up dying in the attack that also destroyed Grant's face.)

#random personal stuff #sorry there was very little I read last month that I got especially invested in #and nothing very intelligent I can say about any of it

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januarygale · 1 month

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I am SO curious to see if The Mars House is in any way inspired by Aye, And Gomorrah... by Samuel R. Delaney.

Delaney's story is a short story from 1967 and was first published in Dangerous Visions, an anthology of 'risque' new wave sci-fi. (And it's an allegory for being queer during the 60s).

It's about a so-called "Spacer", an astronaut who works physical jobs on different planets -- who has been neutered prior to becoming a spacer to eliminate the risk of harmful mutations of the reproductive cells (don't question the science, it was the 60s). Anyway, on earth Spacers are fetishised because they are androgynous and somewhat of an 'exotic' thing and some of them are sex workers, and pretty much all of them are living at the edges of society and keep to their own community. The plot is about the disconnect between "frelks" (the ones with the spacer kink) and Spacers -- the protagonist wants to be seen as human, as a person, and the frelk fails to view them as anything other than a sexually stunted object of her fascination.

And I get that that's way too sexual and direct for a Pulley novel but somehow with Aubrey being non-binary and January being "Earthstrong", something that sets him apart from the people from Mars, it kind of seems to touch on the same themes. Obviously Spacers and Earthstrongs are different kinds of people entirely -- one too 'childlike' and the other one too strong thus 'dangerous' -- but they are both far removed from the 'normal' population of their (new) homeworlds and therefore misfits of sorts. And given how much Pulley's novels so far have been about a desire for connection... Especially connection that shouldn't exist in the eyes of society, and connection that the MCs (Valery and Raphael come to mind) simply don't think they can or should have. I feel like the parallels are there, but maybe that's just me.

And I don't know how Pulley is gonna treat Aubrey's being non-binary, but I suspect that we're gonna get a whole ass analysis. And if we do, I hope the whole 'living on a different planet on which your body behaves and developes differently until it's in stark contrast to what other human body of your sex/gender look or feel like' is going to be part of it. Which would also be a parallel to what's implied with the Spacers.

Idk if I'm making sense but all in all I'm chewing drywall about it currently.

You can read Aye, And Gomorrah here, btw. Do it. Delaney is one of sci-fi's most prolific writers for a reason and the story has aged pretty well.

#the mars house #natasha pulley #long post

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matoitech · 4 months

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What are your top-3 werewolf tropes (popular or obscure) or things you wish to see more in stories about/with werewolves?

ooo rly interesting question and surprisingly tough for me to answer.. i think 'tropes i hate' are probably easier to identify LOL but for some tropes i like hmmm:

i tend to enjoy werewolf transformations however it goes in that universe's werewolf lore, whether its painful and bone breaky and screamy or painful but feels good afterward or magical and painless or whatever, i think theyre all cool and they can all say a lot abt how u want ur werewolves to be viewed and what ur trying to say w them. i think my personal favorite is like, there is some level of pain but more than anything its a RELIEF to get to shift so its worth the pain. theres lots of things in life like that and growing up i could relate a lot to feeling like i was ready to burst out of my 'shell' as in body into who i REALLY was. on multiple levels lol

pack as being a better version of family was a huge one for me as a kid. i didnt have a good home life or childhood so i dreamed of finding out i was a werewolf and getting to run away and live in the woods as a wolf with a group of ppl that loved me, that was better than 'family' and meant more. tho it should also be stated this was more like a fantasy scenario for KID me; as an adult i love political dramas in fiction so complicated pack politics seem really fun to write now. i still wrote them to an extent when i was younger into my werewolf stories too but more than anything i had the dream of it being like a total freedom and actually getting to be loved as who you really were thing. i also like werewolf universes where they DONT rly have either packs of groups that function as packs, whatever works for the narrative and lore the best, but i loved the whole pack thing a lot growing up

i love werewolves being able to be used to represent so many things.. this isnt rly a trope in particular but i love the expressiveness and creativity and originality and fluidity their stories can have and i think its rly cool how many ppl can be compelled by them and attracted to the potential in these stories. theres so MUCH you can do w them that goes incredibly underutilized. if i wanted to always write a different way of looking at or approaching or relating real human experiences to werewolves, or even just slightly different ways the werewolves function (and you have so many different KINDS of werewolves; dif levels of animal and human mind combo as a four legged wolf, furry anthro werewolves, beast werewolves, etc) i would never run out of material or alternative ideas. thereis so much that can make a werewolf story a werewolf story and a werewolf a werewolf. theres so many personal reasons ive always loved and felt connected to them. this is partly getting into the 'what id love to see' thing, but just HUGE massive potential in writing abt stuff like disability for example that u just never see. werewolves r smth ive always rly deeply loved a lot and been fascinated with and i think it shows in how like Personal me talking abt werewolves tends to get lol. this wasnt rly a trope but im counting it

for more things i want more in werewolf stories.. lots of stuff specific and niche to me personally lol, but i want them to stop being so goddamn cisgender i think werewolf stories r one of those things where the way gender is handled is so unneccessarily bad SO much of the time for no reason i can see. i guess ppl want to be '''realistic''' to animals but gender does Not work like that for animals so theyre just being annoying for no reason. theres a lot of gender essentialism in a lot of werewolf stuff? which is incredibly grating. and obviusly shitty

anyway as a dif thing one of my biggest qualms w werewolf stories is that i rly dislike the incorrect 'alpha' dynamics + crazy aggression of the pack members against each other like werewolves r Biologically Evil thing that shows up a lot in werewolf stories by ppl who dont know anything abt wolves or wolf pack dynamics, or just dont care i guess. i dont care abt 'alpha/omega' shit at all i never write that kinda stuff. so i want more things that Dont use that. lol

id love to see more werewolves who Like being werewolves lol. being realistic abt like the pros and the cons here but there is NO reason why there r so few stories abt werewolves who actually like being werewolves or at least like some aspects of it. theres not enough furries writing these things i guess. oh i forgot to mention i like never think of lycanthropy as a 'curse' unless im writing it For A Reason. other characters viewing it as a curse while the werewolf doesnt, thats another story. i think its just boring and too like horror werewolf tropey to me. being able to turn into a wolf man is not a curse what the hell thats like the coolest power ever. i see ppl complaining abt how werewolves r 'too happy to just realize they have cool powers and start killing ppl they dont like for fun, i want to see them be SAD abt it' but i dont actualy see the 'enjoying murdering for fun' a lot in media so idk what theyre talking abt. i guess horror, maybe, where the werewolves r the villains? i see way more of them moping abt how hard it is to be cursed to be a furry. bite ME then if you hate it so much

i could keep going but i am gonna cut myself off now lol, tysm for asking! i could say lots more but its 2 am lol

#dord-the-whimsical-creature #asks #werewolves

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ijustkindalikebooks · 4 months

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I really hope I don't read a life changing book in the next three weeks so this list is out of date, but this is a list of twelve books that have been dwelling in my head for the last year.

I quote them, I think about them, I think "holy cow someone wrote that" often about these and I can't wait to either the read the next one or the next thing that comes from this author (or both). I really hope you've had an amazing year of reading and I can't wait to see your own lists from 2023.

How High We Go In The Dark by Sequoia Nagamatsu - A sort of slow burn book that has dwelled in my brain since I read it back in April, How High We Go In The Dark is a dark exploration of humanity connected by short stories that have a common thread through the book. The rollercoaster story lives in my head rent free, and not in a good way, it's a little bit disturbing, but I think we live in a dystopia more than we believe we do and maybe there's a metaphor in there somewhere.

Sea Of Tranquility by Emily St John Mandel - Another book that connects via short stories, this is quite common for me as I love that sort of thing, reflecting on my list of books. I think Mandel writes so poetically and brilliantly throughout this book, she delivers on pathos and emotion to really deliver stories about people, about people in different timelines connected by a strange portal moment of magic. If you love fantasy but in a more contemporary delivery, I do recommend this book to you.

The End Of The Affair by Graham Greene - I am a collector of books as much as a reader of them and this year I've been trying to read my bookshelves a bit more as I just am buying books to make myself look clever at this point, which is just lame. This was one of the first books on my shelf, and though not perfect, and damn did she deserve better, this book delves into obsession and love and what it actually means to people. It's a weird book.

Another Day In The Death Of America by Bryan Younge - I am not American, I have never seen a gun in real life in the hands of a person I know (some police have them near Parliament, well they did once I think) so I don't understand America and their passion for ammunition, but this book should not make you proud of it. This book is a gut punch through every chapter as the author details the young lives lost to guns in 24 hours. A brilliant and sad book.

Tower by Bae Myung-Hoon - My passion for Korean Literature does not abate (I am not a Koreaboo, don't worry). There's a way Korean writers write books like their objective observers on a scene that I particularly enjoy and Tower is another good example of this. Tower again is short stories tied together about a building that is it's own country and the people who live and want to live in it. The Elephant chapter hasn't left my brain since I read it and I recommend it (unless you like Elephants, then don't, cos it's again fucked up).

Beyond The Story: 10 Years of BTS by BTS - Ahh BTS, since 2017 I've known this group and their impact of my life and music taste is so ridiculous, I feel like something's walk into your life for a reason and wow, did they. The story of the rise of BTS from a lucky break on Mnet's music show to Grammy nominations (robbed!) is incredible to read and even if you don't like them it's a fascinating insight into a group that made their name in a country that was dominated by three big music companies, and they weren't on any of them - Hybe now supercedes all of them. An incredible underdog tale.

Lirael by Garth Nix - Where has this man been all my life with these books? I'm embarassed, be embarassed for me. This series is so good so far, I'm going to read Abhorsen next year which I believe is the next one and I can't wait. I would also recommend the Booksellers Of London series too by the same author, which is every bit as good and set in 80's London/Bath. Fantastic fantasy that makes you think where is the next one, give it to me now.

The Last Devil To Die by Richard Osman - Y'know, this series is so British, it should come with teabags and digestive biscuits, but I love it all the same. A series about a group of pensioners who solve mysteries, The Last Devil To Die is the fourth book in this series and it's probably for me one of the best. The storyline with Stephen is devastating and the plot is incredible with characters that come to life every time this book is opened. I can't wait for whatever this author does next and those who voted for The Housemaid on Goodreads, I'm judging you, to be honest.

Hortus Curious by Michael Perry - Plants, people. Plants are incredible, insane, incredible. There are plants who eat living things, but that's just the start of their madness. This book is an incredible exploration in fantastic plants you would think you'd only see in a Herbology classroom but here they are in real life, killing people and eating small animals. Fantastic book, if you love nature and weird stuff, this is for you.

Against White Feminism by Rafia Zakaria - I think the white women were in the house so much from this book. How women were protected in their plantations as people were treated abysmally who were just another intersection from them. I think we all need to work on our biases, prejudices and judgements we make and this is a short and brilliant book that could help you do that. I consider myself a feminist, and to be a good one you also have to shut and listen to people who don't look like you, make spaces intersectional my friends.

The Kiss Quotient by Helen Hoang - The only romance book for me with rights this year (I keep being recommend books about hockey players and I am, that's just not going to happen). The representation of autism is fantastic and the sexy times are sexy if you need that and the characters, the characters are impeccable. I really recommend all of her books to be honest (and Talia Hibbert too, actually) as they make such great books with fantastic rep.

The Yellow Wallpaper by Charlotte Perkins Gilman - John Green on Crash Course said about this book 'the thing about this dystopian book is that this dystopia has already happened'. Charlotte was told by her doctors to quit all her hobbies and stay in a room and do nothing and it drove her to a deeper sickness, she wrote this book during that time of recovering from her ''recovery'' and it makes for powerful reading. The whole story is easily found online for free and I highly recommend it, probably one of the first psychological thrillers.

I apologise if some of these are a bit grammatically weird, I am working on it, I only just found out I'm dyslexic hence my difficulty with small text and need for audiobooks (smh, sometimes it's so obvious it makes me shake my head).

Please let me know what your favourite books of 2023 were.

Vee xo

#booklr #books #fiction #bookblr #book #non fiction #classics #fantasy #mystery #science fiction

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everythingismadeupp · 3 months

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The TOK Virus is E V E R Y W H E R E ! ! !

Everybody hide. Find your mask, and take cover. The TOK virus is spreading.

Who would have known that in only five short months I would go from having no idea what Theory of Knowledge even was, to applying it in my everyday life? Truthfully, I don't think there is a day that goes by where I don't make connections to this course. Whenever I'm in a situation where someone mentions anything along the lines of free will, certainty, or knowledge, my brain goes “Oh! TOK!!!” It really has just given me a completely different outlook on life. I think that the biggest TOK virus that I caught was the virus of overanalyzing. In many situations, where the average person wouldn't bat an eye, I find myself asking “how do we know this” or “how much of this really matters”. Half of the time, I say it as a joke because the answer to those questions doesn't really change my perspective on life, but it has definitely altered my interpretation. Similarly, another great thing that has come out of the TOK virus is the new set of comedy! After taking IB history last year, you can say that my friends and I (Roan, Jasmine, and Simone) caught the “IB history virus” because everything could become a joke. Someone talks about being hungry? Well, at least you weren't in Communist China under Mao Zedong during the Great Leap Forward! Stuff like that. Now, TOK has offered that same opportunity. And let me tell you, it's hilarious! One of our non-TOK friends will comment “Oh wow, I did really well on that chemistry quiz”... are yo sure? How do you know for certain? Or do you just think that you know for certain? I can't count the number of times that one of us four has finished off a text in the group chat with “#TOK”. I was actually able to find a few perfect examples, take a look at these texts:

Logical fallacies!!

Does anything matter????

A classic...and maybe a bit of a false dilemma?

(permission was received from members of this group chat)

Not just that, in the past few days since we learned about logical fallacies, I've been seeing them EVERYWHERE. It's like a whole new world. It got me thinking back on it, and I'm probably 85% certain that I used confirmation bias or the cherry-picking fallacy in my History IA. I don't necessarily think that it was on purpose, but it definitely happened. Essentially, this class and the TOK virus have just allowed me to learn a lot about myself. There were a lot of things that I probably would have never thought about or never been forced to develop an opinion on if it weren't for the TOK virus. In fact, I'm very fascinated by the power that one course can have on someone's thinking. I've even found myself using TOK to justify my actions in my everyday life. Don't worry, I'm not robbing banks or anything and saying “It wasn't my fault we don't have free will”...that would be, concerning, to say the least. I use it in a way to make me feel better, “Oh, I did bad on that test, it's okay because we don't have free will, so everything will turn out how it's supposed to turn out”. Whether I believe that or not is a different story, but hey! Makes life more interesting!!

#tok #knowledge #virus

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deludedfantasy · 9 months

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Trimax Vol. 4 Ch 1-3

I’m splitting my thoughts up for this volume because I have a feeling I have A LOT to say for just these three chapters, so it’s probably only gonna get longer from here. Things are starting to get real serious though...

I’ve always had a particular love for the parts of stories that deal with the aftermath of a big battle. What are our characters doing? How are they coping? What have they learned and how have they changed? So, I really liked this chapter on my first read because it gave us a really interesting look into the characters and Home as a setting. Plus, Jessica’s opening is a good laugh.

Ch1

Wolfwood, my guy, why do you assume Vash is insulting you? He just wants to show you around!!

The look of awe on Wolfwood’s face when he sees the transmitter…it’s so good! Something about a man without hope suddenly finding it again, just for a moment.

Oh god, coupled with his prayer…he wants to hope! That’s all he’s asking for, not even to be saved. But not even for himself, he’s asking for the children, for the future. He’s absent from his own prayers. It absolutely kills me, because he doesn’t even see himself in that future.

And then…Wolfwood’s prayer is answered! A message from Earth and the possibility of help! Good things do happen!

Vash and Wolfwood, both standing apart from the action and celebration, but quietly celebrating together…they are so similar in so many ways, honestly. Also, must comment on the handshake/high-five. Love them so much. They’re growing and developing.

Yes, Meryl and Milly!! Drag them into the party. Let them be a part of humanity.

I just got jumpscared by Knives.

Which is a great way to initiate a tone shift, I will say.

Vash goes from being dead asleep to wide awake just feeling his brother’s power. Very similar to what happened at Fifth Moon when Knives was resurrected. Like the level of connection between the twins and the sheer power for that to happen is insane.

Whoa, Knives has his own angel arm now! Did he somehow intercept the satellite communication with his powers? Was that what he was doing in his brief appearance in the last chapter?

Hang on, is Vash trying to leave without letting anyone know? Including Meryl, Milly, and Wolfwood? Oh my God. I know he’s like this but also it’s so rude. These people care about him and he won’t let them know what’s going on with him at all!

“It’s okay. I’ll come back. Eventually…”

Vash, that isn’t reassuring in the slightest considering you disappeared for over a decade last time. For all his love and care for humanity, he really doesn’t think he deserves any of that same feeling back and it drives me nuts.

But hey, Wolfwood knows his tricks and isn’t letting him off so easy! (Which is kinda his job, but still)

Ch2

My enduring fascination with the backstories of the Gung Ho Guns is being fed so well here. Midvalley especially is so interesting. He sees Knives’s evil, he even calls it the work of the devil, but he’s still working for him. He’s another man who’s stuck between a rock and a hard place, and chooses to play the devil. He’s certainly not good, he was obviously an assassin even before his association with the Gung Ho Guns, but he’s conflicted. He’s not good, but he doesn’t want to be evil.

“I’m a collector of knives. Sharp ones, ready and capable of genocide.” Knives…really said that, huh.

It’s interesting that in the page where we see a group shot of the Gung Ho Guns, Wolfwood is mostly out of frame. Only his arm and Punisher are visible. He is and he isn’t one of them.

Legato is sooooo upset that Knives isn’t telling him everything. And that Wolfwood is ruining his plans to kill Vash. Even though he’s still working under Knives’s orders. He’s so, so unhinged.

Also, Knives has finally abandoned his BDSM suit, so I can stop giggling every time he’s on page.

And now we return to our regularly scheduled Vash and Wolfwood shenanigans.

Vash is such a drama queen, I love it. Face down on the ground, calling out to Rem because he’s tired and pretending to be dying, and then immediately awake when he hears a car. What a guy.

Meryl and Milly are so right to drive past them. Serves Vash right for leaving without saying goodbye.

Ch3

Hang on, did those two set out across the desert without enough food and water? To the point that they needed to be rescued by Meryl and Milly, and taken to the hospital?? For two supposedly dangerous and smart men, they are incredibly stupid.

Go Meryl and Milly!! I love it when the girls get to be badasses too.

“It may be small but its power is sufficient.” Meryl’s dad is right not just about her guns, but about her. It’s been interesting watching Meryl, someone who is truly only human, try to keep up with and deal with basically supernatural beings. I wonder if what she’s considering at this moment is if what her father said was really true. Can she keep up with Vash? Does she have the power to help him with his quest?

Wolfwood sometimes manages to be caring in the rudest way possible. He’s talking about ditching the girls like they’re hangers on, but he’s really worried that they’re going to get hurt or killed.

Vash, as usual, calling Wolfwood out on it, too. Wolfwood isn’t sure that he wants to do that! Besides, Vash is right. The girls went in with their eyes wide open. As much as Vash likes to not give the whole truth to protect people and keep them from following him, the girls know what they’re getting into. He doesn’t have that excuse anymore, and he can’t keep them away without disregarding their autonomy completely.

Hoppred and Midvalley might be my favorite Gung Ho Guns. They’re so complicated! Midvalley is there because he doesn’t have a choice; it was either join Knives or die, but he knows he’s going to die at the end of this either way. Hoppred is here for revenge and once he gets that, his purpose for living is gone, so it doesn’t matter if he dies anyway. They were pushed onto this dark path and they don’t see a way out of it; they don’t see a future outside of the darkness. There’s a theme somewhere in here but I can’t quite grasp it. Honestly, I just loved everything about their conversation here.

Oh no, Meryl’s been kidnapped! If I remember my volumes correctly, this is the one where things get really dark. I don’t know if I’m ready for the rest of this…

#trigun #trigunbookclub

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kylesvariouslistsandstuff · 4 months

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EIGHT CRAZY NIGHTS is such a confounding movie.

I recently watched a batch of deleted scenes, of which I wasn't aware of until rather recently. I had once listened to its director, Seth Kearsley, talk about the picture on a podcast as well. Fascinating stuff all around about its production, and all the ins and outs, how they went about their decision-making, etc. Seemed like it was a fun movie for many of its crew to work on, and they seemed to be treated well too. RARE for an animated movie of this caliber, it seems.

youtube

It has gone down, almost notoriously, as being considered one of the "worst" animated movies ever...

Weirdly, when I was 11 years old, I was lowkey OBSESSED with this movie. I didn't even know it existed until it was out on DVD, and when I watched the whole thing through, I was hooked for some reason. Maybe it was because it was, at the time, a good-sized 2D animated feature that wasn't set in the past, a fantasy world, a sci-fi setting, or anything like that. EIGHT CRAZY NIGHTS wasn't IRON GIANT nor EL DORADO nor SPIRIT nor TITAN A.E. nor TREASURE PLANET... It wasn't like LILO & STITCH from the same year either, which is also a contemporary story, but that has aliens in it! And was family-friendly. This was set in the present, it was more for adults, it was just people being people with *some* cartoony elements (such as cute anthropomorphic deer and some of the exaggerated, if not demeaning character designs), it was even really semi-realistically gross in some parts (and not in the sort of, say, exaggerated REN & STIMPY way), it could've easily been a live-action Happy Madison production. But it wasn't. Many of the movie's detractors feel it should've just been done in live-action.

The movie is inspired by the Whitey character from one of Adam Sandler's comedy albums, and sometimes I feel the movie could've worked better with him as the main character and Davey a complex deuteragonist. Going through the deleted scenes, you could tell the crew went through a few ideas of just how far they wanted to push the exaggerated, cartoony stuff. What kind of jokes they thought could work or that they could get away with, etc. Certainly a cartoonish decapitation of a kid, and a monkey that explodes into a gory mess would've easily landed this thing an R rating, but they weren't going for that ultimately. You have this weird mix of a very dark and often mean movie, but it's also PG-13 and it doesn't go too far so it's more accessible to kids and still fits the bill of being a "warm holiday special" kind of movie. I do gotta give props to the filmmakers for wanting to make a big, mainstream Hanukkah movie in a sea of gazillions of Christmas movies, no matter the end result.

And yet... It worked on this fellow when they were 11 years old, so Sandler, Kearsley and his crew must've done something right! I can quote most of this, that's how obsessed I was with this movie circa December 2003-January 2004. With holiday money or something, I literally bought the VHS of it. We had it on DVD as well, but I bought a VHS for myself because back then, I did not have a DVD player in my room... So, a tape it was. It came with the live-action short A DAY WITH THE MEATBALL, starring Adam Sandler's bulldog at the time, much like the DVD.

So yeah, I find it a fascinating movie to this day, not because of its battlefield of tones (life itself is tonally uneven, too) or some of its truly strange sequences such as the one where the product placement all comes to life in the mall, but because of its history and also... The visuals are quite nice. IRON GIANT animation team involved (the boy Benjamin kinda reminded me of Hogarth anyways, of course I made the connection at a young age), and even the songs I find amusing. They got Alison Krauss to sing on at least one of them, so that's a plus. Some of the eleventh hour rushed stuff, such as the declining animation quality on the townspeople during the Bum Biddy bit, is fun to spot too. And I do overall like the premise of this movie; a relentlessly kind man who is overlooked by his community Odd Couple-ing with a total asshole who had a tragic childhood, in a sort of blah and miserable blue-collar town setting, some heavy stuff that this movie that - with more tact and less poopy jokes - could've really handled well.

I hate the term "guilty pleasure", but this could possibly be that for me. That's what I like about "bad" animated movies of the '90s and early '00s, there's usually something very interesting going on in it, whether it's through the seemingly-confused storytelling or the idiosyncratic choices in the visuals. I think with a slew of cheap live-action movies, those are indeed efforts at the end of the day, but with an animated movie... There's a lot more to it, and that it's a miracle one of these things even gets finished, let alone released. In live-action, it's just they shot a bit and did some post... With an animated film like this, a lot happens along the way, no matter the end product. It's easy to say "it's all negated by the script", but I think it's more complex than that... And that's part of what I find appealing about EIGHT CRAZY NIGHTS to this day.

#Youtube

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ot3 · 2 years

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I read someone’s theory that part of if not the entire reason why Kristoph killed Zak was because of his inferiority complex directed towards Klavier.

(Here’s the post so you can read it yourself: https://www.reddit.com/r/AceAttorney/comments/39i05a/apollo_justice_the_big_bads_motive_spoilers/)

What’s your opinion on that? I personally don’t know if I’m sold on this theory entirely but I really wanted to hear your thoughts on it as I find them and this unfinished plot point fascinating. I think there could be something there about the strained relationship between the brothers but from what I remember I don’t think it’s touched upon in the game itself?

i think it's an interesting theory but i think it's just that: a theory. until we have anything more to go on wrt the gavin brothers it's pure speculation. although it's obvious that kristoph cares a lot about his image/presentation, i don't think it's automatically tracks to translate that into an inferiority complex specifically regarding klavier as his motives. this person is assuming kristophs motives and then working backwards to interpret events through that lens and it's not a bad interpretation by any means but it doesn't fully make sense. especially because it's relying on the DD explanation for black psyche locks, which, as mentioned, i take with a grain of salt

some points of contention with this theory to me:

klavier seems to be to some degree under kristoph's thumb or subject to his will, as evidenced by the 'you're out of control' 'whose control? mine? or yours?' back and forth. this isnt mutually exclusive with kristoph having an inferiority complex regarding him but it does, to me, suggest that kristoph has enough influence over klavier at present time that he has means of gaining ground on klavier that don't center around the gramarye case.

following from that, nothing about killing zak gramarye does anything to raise kristoph's status or lower klavier's. if his clout and reputation were the ultimate concern here. we could say that he just sort of snapped and his temper got the better of him, yeah, but it still doesn't quite track for me

on a similar note, klavier has been out of the legal world for the past 7 years focusing on his band. he hasnt been doing any cases. his reputation is primarily as a musician, with his legal career coming secondary. if kristoph wanted the trial to be a blemish on klavier's career, that happened. it didnt elevate his own status but it got klavier out of the picture in court. meanwhile kristoph's reputation as a defense attorney continued to grow, and he maintained a position on the bar association. i can't imagine kristoph feeling super jealous of klavier's success as a musician and it seems that in terms of actual level acclaim kristoph is winning.

did kristoph try and win the gramarye trial specifically to fuck over klavier, or because he knew he could fuck over klavier? was klavier the victim, or was he a tool in this process? its entirely possible that the trial was not about klavier even a little bit and klavier's presence as the prosecutor was just a measure of security against kristoph's grift being found out.

kristoph seems to have just. more going on with him in general. he seems to have some connections to the criminal element given that he was able to identify a forger, shell out 6 figures for a forgery, and get his hands on some presumably extremely illegal and extremely potent poison. the man seems to be involved in a criminal element completely outside of the context of his relationship with his brother

and on a more meta level, it is really just too simple. that's not the kind of mystery shu takumi writes. if you look at his body of work you can see an increasing level of - and i say this with love - convoluted nonsense begin to weave its way into the storytelling. his work and character backstories get increasingly more complex and twisty as he writes more stories. compare the kind of stuff happening in the DGS duology to the stuff happening in the trilogy. the thing he worked on closest to AA4 was ghost trick, which has a Lot happening in it. although an easy explanation may make sense i can not in any sincerity believe it was what was intended.

the kristoph stuff is so uniquely frustrating to me because there is exactly enough there for me to be incredibly interested in it but not nearly enough there for me to even begin to guess where it was going. so pretty much no fan theory will ever be able to satisfy me.

#ace attorney

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sirowsky · 2 years

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The Lost Island

Chapter 19 - Once Again

Summary: Everything seems upside down now. Life keeps trying to go on, but Marcus is stuck. And you're not exactly helping.

Author’s Note: Popping back in from my hiatus to post this severely delayed update. It's been almost two months since the last chapter and I apologize. If you're still with me - you're awesome and I love you!

Rating: Mature 18+ONLY Warnings: Cursing, angst, grief, longing, comfort. Word Count: 6983 Masterlist (this story) Author’s Masterlist

Marcus sat in the scanner, trying to follow the threads of information that he already had, but he was so tired now that his own thoughts were getting criss-crossed. Him, you, the tree. A triangle of powers that had somehow come together and landed him here, three years in the past, with no way of getting back.

You’d left shortly after delivering him to R&D, trusting that no one would let a cuffed man wander about unsupervised until you got back, since you had too much on your plate to baby-sit him, and it was already 4pm. He was quite relieved about that. It was easier when you weren’t there. Less painful.

“Interesting.” Ricky mused to himself, while he watched something on his monitor.

“Why? What are you seeing?” Marcus asked.

“Well, there are clear markers of time-travel in your cells, the gaps I talked about before, which corroborate your story. Especially since I’m getting almost exactly the same data from you that we got from the alien tree. Are you sure you can’t remember anything else about how this happened?”

He hadn’t told Ricky any details about his powers or your sacrifice or the island or any of it. Only that he was displaced and that it had happened largely out of his control. But perhaps it was time to have a little more faith in his old friend. He’d known Ricky since he was a teenager, after all.

“Actually, I remember everything about it, I just can’t make any sense of it.” he tried, and the man abandoned the screens to come into the chamber and talk to him, face to face.

“Hey, I’m the scientist, remember? I’m the one that makes sense of stuff. So, just tell me however much you can, and don’t worry about it being cohesive, I just need the pieces of the puzzle, I’ll fit them together myself.”

Two hours later, Marcus had told him absolutely everything. The plane crash, the island, the Ozsha, the tribe, the portal, Eqlo’e, the spores and the confusing mess of time-jumps that had eventually led to your sacrifice and later his arrival here. Ricky listened patiently, taking notes and asking the occasional question, and then he just sat there. Staring at his own pen and notepad, going over things in his own head, twisting and testing the pieces until he was satisfied that he grasped the overall chain of events.

“It seems to me,” he finally started, after Marcus had let him ponder undisturbed for almost twenty minutes, “that this is indeed a permanent shift. A total reset of your own timeline. I don’t think you could go back anymore because the three years that you lived, can no longer come to pass.”

Meaning this was it. He’d have to live here now, with this version of you that didn’t know him and for all he knew, would never want to. And what about Missy? He hadn’t met her yet, but would she notice that he was different? Every version of her that he’d thus met had seemed unbothered by the idea that he wasn’t exactly the same, so there was reason to hope that this one would react similarly. After all, it wasn’t like she had seemed any different to him, regardless of timeline.

“I’m quite fascinated by these new powers of yours. Would you mind demonstrating for me?” Ricky continued, bringing him out of his own head and back to the room.

“Sure.”

He started with just the threads, showing off their versatile use as either individual strings, or a network of them, either to create one or several shields, or to connect to many things at once. Then he took it further, displaying the dark powers and how they evolved from one thing to the next, until lightning bolts were shooting through the room, which prompted Ricky to ask him to stop and then return to his screens.

“My god, Marcus… I have never seen power-readings this high. No wonder you could manipulate Earth’s electromagnetism before, you’ve had an effect on it all your life, without even knowing it.”

“It’s really that strong?” Marcus questioned, not really wanting to believe it.

“Oh, easily. Looking at these readings I have no trouble at all believing that you can tear a rift through spacetime. Especially if you already have access to a conduit.”

“But the portal jumps as it pleases, it already has the ability, I just tapped into it, I didn’t create the rift myself.”

“Sure. But how did you draw it to you? How did you reach it from another point in space and time?” Ricky asked, cocking an eyebrow at him.

“…Shit.” Marcus started, and then a question plopped into his head. “Does that mean that I was the one that sent myself here? No, that doesn’t make any sense, I wasn’t even trying to open a portal…”

“No, no, I don’t think you did this. You said that the tree called to you that night, almost compelled you to come to it? Well, I believe that that was indeed your Ace’s soul, and I don’t think she would’ve done that unless she knew that she could help you.”

“But how has this helped me, Rick?”

His old friend looked at him with a crooked little smile, and simply said:

“She’s alive here. You get to see her again, talk to her, start over. Even if it never becomes the same as what you had before, it’ll still be her. The same person you fell in love with. I know a lot of people who would give anything to get to have that.”

You walked in only moments later, looking a little worse for wear, your hair tousled and your clothes dirty, as if you’d been wrestling someone, and Marcus was instantly worried, which was of course, only annoying to you.

“What happened? Are you okay?” he asked, pretty much reflexively.

“The answers to both those questions are entirely not your concern.” you bit back, turning to Ricky next. “What have you found?”

“Corroboration of his story. He is Marcus Moreno, and in all likelihood exactly from when and where he says he is. His powers are off the charts and there are no inconsistencies that I can find between what he’s told me and what my data is telling me.”

“Okay, but then… what happened to this Moreno? Our Moreno, from this time?” you pressed, trying to wrap your head around it.

“Well, they’re the same person, and the same matter can’t occupy the same space, so this is that Moreno. They’ve merged, for lack of a better term. Which is why he can still remember the other timeline even though it’s been erased.” Ricky explained.

“And the tree?” you continued, seeming to get increasingly frustrated with this whole situation.

“I believe that the tree is responsible for sending him here, by utilising the power it gained from the version of you which was absorbed into it. That Ace must’ve been so devastated to feel his grief, that she manipulated him into letting his powers rage unfiltered, creating a rift in spacetime. And using whatever strength she had left, to direct that rift here, and push him through. Actually changing time, rather than just visiting another timeline. I think she had to take herself along with him, as he needed to be tethered to the massive energy-reserve of the tree in order to keep the rift open and bring him safely through. And I think that she burned the last remnants of her soul out of existence by doing this, which is why you don’t remember anything about her.”

“Because otherwise our souls would’ve merged too…” you completed the thought, and Ricky nodded.

You took a few deep breaths, settling your hands on your own hips while you paced on the spot for a few beats.

“Right. So, if he’s just the same old Marcus anyway, then there’s no need for any security measures. Just an ordinary debrief, more or less.” you finally decided, but you still looked at Ricky for confirmation.

“Yeah. Pretty much.” he answered, and you nodded before coming into the chamber to uncuff Marcus. They were the sort of cuffs that kept the hands a full 10 inches away from one another, and restricted movement of the wrists, so you could reach the thumb-pad that released both sides, positioned at the centre, without coming into contact with him.

“Great, that means you’re no longer my problem. Report to Ms. Granada for your debrief first thing in the morning.” you said, and then left.

----------------------------------

He felt like he was a record, with the needle stuck on the same point of his life, as he once again explained everything, was met by the same questions that you and Ricky had asked, which he answered the same way, only to then be surprised by Ms. Granada’s final statement.

“Well, I think it’ll be best if we don’t advertise any of this. It’ll just cause unnecessary concern from the public, since they will inevitably learn about it, not to mention your teammates. They’re hard enough to corral as it is, and you’re one of the few people they all listen to, so if they should decide that something’s changed or that they can’t trust you anymore… honestly, that’s just a scenario I really don’t wanna think about.”

“You don’t think they deserve to know?” he countered, but she shook her head.

“It’s not about what they deserve or not, it’s about whether it would be of any benefit for them to know. And I can’t see that it would help either them or you in any way.”

“No, I guess it wouldn’t. It just seems like I’d be deceiving them.” he confessed.

“You’re not. You’re the same person, they still know you, you just know a few things that they don’t. Obviously, I’m not gonna tell you not to tell your family, that’s up to you. And Ricky will be available to help you if there’s anything you need.”

And that was that. Back to work as usual. On his way out to the car, he wondered if it would ever stop feeling so… odd. It was only his first day here, but so much had happened. His head was pounding when he stepped in through his front door and was met by the smell of his mother’s cooking and his daughter’s usual “Hey, dad”. He stepped out of his shoes and slowly walked into the kitchen, watching his family with a melancholy sort of pain in his heart. Because even though nothing had really changed, everything had, and it could never be the same again.

To his own surprise, he chose not to tell them. For the same reason that Granada had given – it wouldn’t help or make any difference. And they didn’t seem to notice any change in him, which made it easier to just fall back into his life as if those three years had just been a dream.

It was so much harder at work, though. And that was all because of you. Sure, it was true that he was grateful to get to have you around him again, alive and feisty and unyielding, but it also hurt so badly to know that he wasn’t invited. That he couldn’t ask you for a hug or even to run his fingers over your cheek. He tried to think that it was still better than lying on the floor, wishing that he’d never existed, but it didn’t really help. A couple of weeks later, though, he got a welcome distraction, when Tech came to give him an update on something that Marcus had tasked him to do.

“Hey, man. Got a minute?” Tech asked, poking his head through the open door and waiting for a nod before he stepped in, taking a seat opposite Marcus’ desk.

“I’m all ears, T.” he said, clasping his hands together and leaning back in his chair.

“Okay, I’ll admit that when you asked me to look for a hidden island in the middle of the South Pacific, I was slightly concerned that you’d lost a few marbles. So, imagine my surprise when I found the damned thing, right smack in the middle of the area you’d suggested I should focus on.”

Marcus suddenly sat up straight.

“You found it? How?” he demanded.

“Oh, it wasn’t easy. None of the usual filters or light-spectrums revealed anything, so I tried something different. Using one of our satellites, I bounced a laser against the water-surface of millions of different points all over the search area, and then compared depths between them.” he explained, while opening his laptop to show Marcus the rendered image that all those points created together. “And voila! Your island appears. Or, an anomaly, at least.”

Looking at the image sent shivers down his spine, even though it was just a dome, because he knew what was inside of it. There was no doubt that this was the correct place, and there was no reason for anything else out there to be cloaked or shielded.

“How’d you know it was there at all, Mo?”

He’d prepared for these types of questions, and had a few answers lined up.

“I wasn’t sure that it was real myself, that’s why I asked you to look for it in your downtime. It’s just something I thought I saw once, and wanted to confirm.”

“Well, it looks like it’s being cloaked. So, what’s next? Take the team, check it out?” Tech asked, but that wasn’t an option.

“No, I need to bring this to Granada first. Let her know we found something, then we’ll see. I’ll let you know what she says.” he promised, and Tech closed his computer and got up.

“Alright, you’re the boss. I sent you the file, if you wanna show her.”

“Thank you, T. This is great work.” Marcus called after him as he left, feeling a sting of regret as he immediately set to work, with no intention of including anyone from the team at all.

Granada had already given him clearance to work on and investigate all things concerning the island at his own discretion, the only condition being that he was indeed extremely discreet about it. She trusted him to bring anything potentially dangerous or damaging to her attention as soon as he found it, and he had every intention of following those orders. If the island was still alive, then it was still a serious threat to the entire planet, and that wasn’t something he felt particularly eager to take on alone.

Getting to the helipad, he made a beeline for a chopper, but found it locked, which they never were while there were pilots in the building. He didn’t even know where they kept the keys to them. But then, there was a distinctive rattle just a few feet to his side and he turned towards it.

“Looking for these?” you asked, holding the keys up in front of your face and dangling them back and forth. “Do you even know how to fly that thing?”

Shit. Well, at least he didn’t need to lie to you.

“I know enough to get me there. Please, give them to me. I have to go, it’s important, I have a lead on the hidden island.”

“The one you were stranded on?” you pressed, and he said yes. That made your face go blank for a second, and then it turned to steel. “I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not!” he all but screamed at you, making you flinch, which then made you angry.

“It wasn’t a question. And don’t you dare yell at me again.” you were impressively composed, despite your anger, so he tried to calm himself.

“I’m sorry. But this really doesn’t concern you.”

“The hell it doesn’t!” you were the one almost screaming now, but you quickly reeled yourself in. Something he’d never seen you do back before the island. Not where he was concerned, at least. “Look, according to you, I’m part of how we stop this place from destroying the planet, right? So, how do you know that I don’t need to be there?”

“Because none of that happens yet. Not for two whole years.” he tried, but you weren’t giving up.

“Except that timeline is gone, so we don’t know anything. For fuck’s sake, Marcus, you’re really gonna go to a place you know is a death-trap, without any back-up?”

“I don’t need back-up!” he shot back, and you scoffed humourlessly.

“Right, because Marcus Moreno is the most powerful human being in the world, the rest of us are just useless.”

That stung somewhere, because he’d always considered you his equal, even back when you’d been enemies. And after the island, and all the times you’d bested him, even when he’d hurt and frightened you, he’d learned that he could never measure up to you. But this wasn’t about whether he wanted or needed back-up, it was about his fear that history was about to repeat itself. Him, you, an aircraft and a hidden island. It was too familiar, turning his blood to ice and his mind to dark places.

“You’re not coming. I can pry the lock open without the keys. Go back to work.” he finally spat between clenched teeth, turning back to the machine and heading for the pilot’s door.

“Leave me here, and I’ll go straight down to the team to let them know exactly what you’re doing.” you threatened, and he stopped moving with a heavy sigh. “They’ll all come after you. You know that. They’re way too curious and meddlesome to leave a dangerous secret island alone.”

You were nothing if not cunning.

“Fuck! …Alright, come on.” he finally caved, letting you unlock the helicopter and then you both climbed up, strapped in and you prepared to take off.

“Don’t you dare crash.” he added, just before you eased the machine off the roof.

“Don’t piss me off and we should be fine.” you countered, and he kinda had to give you that, since he’d been the one that had gotten angry and caused the plane crash.

<><><><><>

He didn’t say much more for the duration of the flight, which was several hours long, but that was fine by you. You couldn’t fathom how any version of you had fallen for this arrogant ass. Okay, maybe he wasn’t arrogant. But something about him just annoyed you, and it took most of the flight before you’d figured out what it was. The knowledge that you were apparently capable of developing deep feelings for him, made you reflexively need to keep him at a distance, because you were not a person that let people come that close to you. And you weren’t gonna let this guy change that. You didn’t even know him.

“Slow down, we’re close.” he announced eventually, and you obliged.

“How do you know? I can’t see anything.” you said.

“Now that I know what I’m looking for, I can feel its energy. It’s generating a cloaking bubble around the whole thing, even underwater.”

“Then how are we supposed to land?”

He answered you by opening the door on his side, and letting three threads flow from his fingers, down into the open air underneath you, and you stopped the helicopter, hovering while you waited to see what he’d do. The threads did indeed reach a barrier some hundred yards below you, something only visible as long as he disturbed its surface. But after just a moment, he sent something from his hand, down one of the threads. A deep purple sparkling something, and when it reached the barrier, it kind of exploded, branching out into hundreds of threads that had spread unseen from the first three. They encircled the entire bubble, and as the continuous explosion travelled along all those lines, they cracked the barrier until it finally disappeared completely, revealing a whole world hidden underneath.

“Now you can land. But not on the beach, use the ledge over there on the mountainside.” he pointed to a spot at the base of the volcanic rise, and you set down without any trouble.

“It’s like something out of a dream…” you said, mostly to yourself, but loud enough that he heard it.

“More like a nightmare.” his voice was grim, full of bad memories, and you wondered just how much had happened to him here.

But you weren’t talking about the scenery.

“I meant that I feel like I’ve been here before. Like déjà vu.” you explained, and he looked at you with a strange expression, and then turned away just as something that looked a lot like fear, crept into his eyes.

“For your sake, I hope that’s all it is.” he whispered as he began to walk down from the hillside, and you refrained from asking what he meant by that, because you honestly didn’t wanna know.

“You’ll warn me about anything deadly among these plants, right?” you asked as the two of you made your way through the thicker vegetation, following a narrow-trampled path towards the center of the island.

“The only one you really need to worry about is the vampire tree, and we’re not gonna go near that.”

“The what?!” you exclaimed, and he chuckled, just a little.

“Remember I told you that this place is one giant organism? Well, the vampire tree paralyzes you and drinks your blood over the course of several days, until you die, to feed the island. Its own ‘blood’ gets too acidic without the occasional dilution, and for whatever reason, human blood does the trick.” he explained, and you took a deep breath.

“Let’s just find this tribe and get them the hell outta here, so we can bomb this fucking place.”

“We can’t bomb it. That wouldn’t ensure that all the spores died. But the matriarch should offer a solution. Let’s just take it one step at a time.”

“Fine. But the plan is still to evacuate the tribe, right?” you asked, trying to keep your mind off fucking man-eating trees…

“If they want to, yeah. How many can the chopper take?”

“Uh, with the amount of fuel we have left, I’d say thirty, including you and me. You said there’s about fifty of them?” you calculated.

“Thereabouts. So that’s two trips.”

“Or we call in another chopper.” you suggested, but he shook his head.

“They won’t get through the barrier. It closed over us about a minute after we landed. I can break it again, obviously, but it also cuts off all communication to the outside world, and I can’t keep it down permanently. It’ll be easier for me to only have to keep track of one transport.”

“Right. Okay.” you agreed, and then realized that you’d suddenly stopped being angry or annoyed with him. When had that happened?

You both grew quiet then, as he led you deeper and deeper into the heart of the island. You were behind him on the trail, his broad shoulders keeping you effectively blind to whatever was in front of him, so when he eventually stopped, you had to step around to his side to see why. A beautiful little village spread out before you, filled with happy people going about their day. Children playing tag and tic-tac-toe or clapping games, while their mothers and some fathers cooked and sang together, others were building something, a few elderly people were working with dried leaves and herbs, or making clothes out of vegetation. Just a normal, functioning community, out here in the middle of nowhere.

Then someone spotted you both, and called out a warning, but Marcus just put his hands up and calmly walked into the village, so you followed suit. An older man with a weathered look about him came towards the two of you, and something about him calmed you. Glancing to your side, you could see Marcus swallow hard against strong emotions, and even though you knew nothing about this tribe, you knew that this man had mattered a lot to the Heroic beside you. The older man stopped three feet away and inclined his head to you both.

“Welcome, travellers. How have you come to be here, in this lost place?” he asked, and his voice seemed to dig into your brain, as though there was something in there he was trying to pull out.

“Chief…” Marcus whispered, and the man locked eyes with him, studying him closely for a good thirty seconds.

“We’ve met before… haven’t we, young man?”

“In a different time, yes.” Marcus replied, failing to keep a slight tremble out of his voice.

“Yes. I named you…” the old man started, then paused for a moment, before adding, “Kahele. Your name is Kahele.”

Moreno nodded, unable to keep the tears back anymore, and the man hugged him tightly, as though they were suddenly old friends reunited, even though they just met. Then the man let go of him and turned to you.

“And you, miss. I gave you a very special name. Do you know what it is?” he asked, stepping closer, but keeping his eyes on yours.

And there was that feeling again, like his voice was somehow inside your head, rather than in front of you.

“Mana…” you said, having no idea how you knew that, but you just did.

“Indeed. And what does that mean?” he prodded, and you were now getting a headache.

“Spiritual power.”

“Good, you remember.” he smiled at you, and you felt your frustration build.

“No, that’s… I’ve never met you before, how could I remember anyth-…” you cut yourself off as the pain in your head turned sharp.

“But you have, dear girl. Every version of you has met me, because one version of you did. You’re all one person, one spirit, and yours is remarkably strong,” he said, putting his hands on either side of your head and then leaning in to kiss your forehead. “Stop fighting her, and the pain will end. Don’t be afraid. She is you, Mana.”

His voice finally reached that thing in your brain that it was digging for, and you felt something stir. A chill went through you, from your toes to your scalp, and then pain followed, first in your feet and legs, and then your abdomen, chest and arms. Confused, you pulled your sleeves up, looking for the damage that must’ve caused it, but there was nothing there, and after a few seconds, it faded again. Something lingered in your shoulder, though. A deeper, burning pain that wouldn’t quite settle. Old bruises long since healed, but still remembered. And then you knew.

“Akela. That’s your name.” you whispered, scarcely believing your own words. “You saved me.”

“We saved each other; I believe.” he said, letting go of your head to pull you into a hug too.

It was odd, because you didn’t actively remember anything, you just kinda knew things. Like you could feel her life rather than see it, but once you came across something that had significance to her, you just knew what that was. And my goodness, did the tribe matter to her. Suddenly you knew their names, songs they’d taught you, recipes you’d tried to master and… loss. You remembered grieving for these people. But they didn’t remember you the same way. The Chief was the only one that did, perhaps because of his powers, which you knew to be similar to yours.

“Chief, we need to talk. There are things we know that might change your circumstances.” Marcus said, and Akela gestured to the central firepit and meeting-place, and the entire tribe made their way there with you.

You left it to Moreno to explain everything, and he didn’t spare any details this time, except maybe concerning you, you weren’t sure. But then they started deliberating in Hawaiian, so you both pulled back, stepping out of the crowd and finding some porch-steps to rest on.

“Hey, Marcus, did she… I ever hurt my shoulder?” you asked, still struggling to accept that this could really have happened to you.

“Uhm… one of the Ozsha threw a really nasty dagger at you. It took a long time to heal.” he said, and you felt like there was something he was avoiding. Something more that happened concerning that incident, perhaps.

As it were, he apparently felt guilty enough about it to elaborate without your asking.

“I could’ve prevented that. I could’ve helped you, but I was… they did something to my mind… I wasn’t… it was like I couldn’t see what I was doing. How wrong it was. They had me do terrible things for them, and I never understood.”

“I’m sorry, that sounds terrifying. What made you realize it, in the end?”

He sighed and shook his head, looking out over the tribe for a beat, looking for strength maybe, before he turned his head to meet your eyes.

“I never did. You forced them out of my head.”

That sent a lot of emotions through you. Hope, fear, determination and love were all associated with that memory, and something dug its way to the forefront of your thoughts.

“You’re stronger than this.” The words just fell out, and he froze, still staring at you while something big and significant passed through him. Much bigger than just the meaning of those words.

For a fraction of a second, he leaned towards you. But then he blinked, changed his mind and all but leapt to his feet, walked ten steps away and then started to pace back and forth.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry… I don’t know how to not touch you! Not love y-… fuck.” he rambled, throwing his arms around in pure frustration, while his voice brimmed over with pain, breaking into sobs before he cut himself off, and just buried his head in his hands.

He looked like he was breaking, and you waited for some memory to come to the surface, to help you understand what you’d felt for him, because surely, this man had to have meant more to you than the tribe. But all you felt was what you’d thus far always felt around him. Except there was pity in there now too. You wanted to comfort him, but only so that you wouldn’t have to see this anymore. He made it easier for you, though, by leaving before you could make some half-ass attempt at caring. And of course, it was only minutes later that Akela came strolling over, the town meeting over.

“Where did he go?” he asked, and you shrugged.

“That direction,” you pointed to the west, “that’s as much as I know.”

“You should follow him.” he suggested, only it sounded more like an order.

“I can’t give him what he wants. So, I think it’s better if I don’t.” you tried, but you felt guilty saying that, for some reason.

“You still don’t remember him?” he pondered, and you shook your head, which made his eyebrows travel up. “You remember me, but not the man you love more than life itself? Hmm… I think, my dear, you’ve misunderstood yourself here.”

“Yeah, how so?” you played along, although you weren’t really in the mood for a lesson in love, which this seemed to be building towards.

Akela smiled and then sat down next to you, resting his elbows against his knees and looking out over the village, the picture of ease.

“It’s not that you don’t remember, I promise that you do. The problem is that feelings of such magnitude and significance are extremely hard to grasp the scope of. And whenever our hearts or minds are too confused to know how to respond to something, they choose to push it away instead. That’s precisely why so many people suffer with their own minds, because they don’t know how to process what they experience.”

“But how am I supposed to process something that didn’t even happen to me?” you threw at him, a little harsher than necessary. “I don’t understand how that would work.”

“That’s the thing – you don’t need to understand. Has anyone, from any era in time, from poets, to singers, to dreamers, ever understood love?” he suggested, and you had to agree, but that still didn’t seem to apply here.

“No, but I didn’t fall in love with him… I don’t feel love for him.”

The Chief turned his head then, to look into your eyes, and something very sad settled into the lines around his.

“Then perhaps… your soul has been broken. Perhaps you’re no longer capable of love. That’s the only thing I can imagine that could keep such a beautiful thing away from you.”

Once again, his words seemed to be probing the insides of your brain, looking for whatever answers you couldn’t find yourself, maybe. But then he looked away, and it stopped.

“We’ve been trapped here for so long that we no longer remember what the outside world looks like. And I’m sure it’s moved on since we left it. But this place has always been a prison, and while we’ve learned to live with it, we won’t pass up the chance to be free again. We’ll come with you. And it is our hope that we’ll get to return to our mother islands.” he declared, bringing your focus back to the here and now.

“I’m sure that won’t be a problem. I expect you’ll need to stay quarantined for a week or two at first, just to make sure that you haven’t become immune to any pathogens that other people could get sick from. Or that you’re carrying any of the deadly pollen with you, inert or otherwise. But once that’s done, I don’t see any reason why you shouldn’t get to go home.” you reassured him, and he nodded softly.

“Give us a moment to decide who leaves on the first transport. We’ll let you know when we’re ready.” he finished, before getting up and joining his people again.

You didn’t think that they’d need very long to make those decisions, so you went to look for Marcus, to let him know you were getting close to departure. He hadn’t gone far, though. You found him sitting on an overgrown tree-stump that was covered in moss, just outside the village, and he looked like he’d calmed down at least.

“Hey. They’re coming with us. They’re just organizing now, so we’ll be leaving in a bit.” you said, approaching him from the side to keep from startling him, but he didn’t react to your appearance beyond letting his head dip forwards slightly.

“Moreno? You okay?” you tried, but at first he didn’t respond, so you stepped closer, intending to shake his shoulder a bit.

But then he started talking, and you stopped.

“It’s not fair to you. Either of us, I guess. I can’t turn my feelings off, and you can’t just switch them on,” he said, the emotional tremble still very present in every syllable he uttered. “You… she… was the love of my life, and you look, sound, act, move, react exactly like her. You say everything I expect you to say. You are her.”

He paused, turning his head to look at you, and you wanted to run away, because you’d never seen pain like that in a human being before.

“I see her. And as long as I do, I can’t be around you. So, when we get back, I’m gonna go. I’m gonna take Missy and leave. Start over.”

He sounded like he was dying just uttering those words, and it tore at you. You hated that your mere existence was causing such hurt, and that there was nothing you could do about it. But this still felt wrong.

“No, Marcus, don’t do that. If this is that painful to you, I’ll go. The Heroics need you; I can find work anywhere, I’ll be fine.” you pleaded.

He stood up, looking like he was trying to lift half the jungle with him, and slowly walked past you.

“Missy’s the only one that needs me. They’ll be fine.”

There was a tight and uncomfortable knot in your stomach for the duration of the time it took to make the two trips to L.A with the tribe. He was right there next to you for all of it, and on the last leg, the second return trip, you spent a good hour searching yourself, looking for any hint of all that love that Akela had been sure you had for this man. But nothing made itself known.

Once everyone had been quarantined, Ricky looked the two of you over thoroughly, and upon finding nothing alien either in or on you, he released you back into the world, and you saw Marcus head straight for Granada’s office. It might just be to get her up to speed, and make sure she knew what story the two of you had cooked up to explain to the team why you’d gone out there when he’d promised Tech to keep them in the loop. Or it might be… the other thing. Why did it feel so wrong? If he wanted to leave, if that was what he needed to do to feel better, then he should do that. So, why did the thought make you feel increasingly unwell? You tried to shed the feeling, making your way back to your office to catch up on the in-house work you’d missed today, trying not to think about what Moreno was doing. Was he packing already? Would he bother to clear out his office, or was he just gonna pack some clothes, put Missy in the car and go? Leave everything behind…

An hour later you still hadn’t gotten anything done, so you took a brisk walk over to his office, just to calm yourself. Which backfired spectacularly when you got there and found a cleaning crew packing everything up and clearing it out. He really was leaving. Suddenly it was hard to breathe. No, this was wrong. This was just so terribly wrong, you had to stop him. Rush hour traffic would’ve moved way too slowly at this time in the afternoon, so you never even contemplated your car, running back up to the helipad instead. The aircrafts were strictly forbidden from being used for personal business, but you were trying to keep a member of the Heroic family from running off, so screw the rules. You did pick a much smaller craft this time, so it would be possible to land in a residential area.

Thankfully, he lived in a villa that stood on its own at the end of the street, with a big lawn out back, past the pool. Missy was the first to come out and investigate why a chopper was landing on their backyard, so you waved to her and got out, just as Marcus slowly walked out of the house behind her, and you were unreasonably relieved to see that he was still there. He sent his daughter inside before you’d gotten to them, clearly expecting this to be unadvisable for her to hear, and then just stood there, staring at you with an expression somewhere between pain and despair.

“Don’t go.” you pleaded, and he closed his eyes, dipped his head and drew his arms up to hold himself.

“How dare you ask me that…” his head snapped back up, but there was still no anger in his eyes. “I can’t do this… You’re killing me, Pita.”

Pita. That name mattered. Holy fuck, did it matter. The sound of it from his lips sent an overpowering mass of emotions through you, from the most spiteful anger to the sweetest tenderness, and you doubled over as your head was suddenly burning as badly as your chest. A part of you knew this, all of it. Had lived through it and learned from it, and that part also knew what it meant. Akela’s words about the brain failing to grasp emotions that were too colossal, now made complete sense. You felt like you might split down the middle as you clumsily made your way towards him, stumbling on a water-hose left lying on the patio, and tumbling forwards. Strong hands caught you and pulled you back up, and just like the last time you’d touched, there was a jolt, but neither of you pulled away this time. And in that contact, in the real and prolonged exposure to his skin, you found it. You knew this touch, craved it, cherished it. You knew how those fingers felt on your body, how his lips tasted, how they moved with yours. You knew what his desire felt like, his passion, his needs, his devotion… all of it.

All at once, you could breathe again.

“I know…” was all you managed to say, even though there was so much more rumbling around in your head.

Too much to be able to explain right then, so you just grabbed his neck and kissed him, and somehow everything fell into place. You no longer felt like you were being torn in half, and instead as though you’d been broken all your life and had finally been made whole. And when he realized that it was really you, that you felt right to him too, that this wasn’t some misguided attempt to ease his pain, his hands turned greedy on your skin, needing more contact, more reassurance that you were his, and you didn’t even try and stop him. If you ended up on a sunbed or the lawn or the hard stone of the patio, you had no idea. All you knew was that when he drove into you, it felt like you both came home.

—————

Link to Chapter 20

Thank you for reading, and I’d love to know what you thought :) Have a wonderful day/night!

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#the lost island fic #marcus moreno fic #marcus moreno x reader #marcus moreno x female reader #we can be heroes fic #we can be heroes au #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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