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simptasia · 4 years

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neurodivergence in abc’s lost

i’m gonna be listing off and talking about the canon neurodivergent characters in lost. i won’t be adding characters that i personally headcanon as neurodivergent in some way, what i’m writing here is elaboration upon what has been given to me by the show. please note that none of these people’s conditions or disorders were named in the show, so such diagnoses being named here are me taking that extra step based upon their symptoms

first of all i wanna point out that based on what i’ve seen the show, that the island’s healing powers applies to conditions inflicted upon the mind, not ones inherent to the mind. thats why daniel’s brain damage heals, but people like hurley and locke will always continue to have depression

hugo “hurley” reyes

schizophrenia and depression

our most prominently featured mentally ill character. it might seem bold to label him with schizophrenia when it’s never said that that’s what he has. but during his time on lost, he displays many of the symptoms: paranoia, pathological self loathing, delusions and hallucinations. now, it’s a fictionalized depiction of schizophrenia and that’s probably not even what the writers had in mind but it’s none the less a really, really good and respectful portrayal of it

it would take too long to list off all the times when hurley displays paranoia (heck, it’s easy not to notice how much its a part of his character) and self loathing. delusions? the situations regarding the numbers and his bad luck (canon never ever Proves what hurley believes to be true regarding that stuff)

they did an episode dedicated to hurley having hallucinations. a man named dave who drives him to self destructive behaviour, self hatred and attempted suicide. fun fact: when people with schizophrenia in real life have hallucinations, they tend towards just auditory. hurley gets visual as well as per Rule Of Drama. this is not a bad thing, just a narrative tool

(steering slightly into headcanon for a bit here but i personally ignore the dharma made Hurley Bird they revealed in the epilogue and just take hurley hearing that bird say his name as an auditory hallucination. for two reasons: one, hurley hearing/seeing things that don’t exist is already consistent with his mental state. and two, that bird literally, genuinely did not fucking say hurley)

extra notes

to be clear, in case there's confusion, hurley really does have magical powers. he can talk to dead people. that isn’t a delusion or hallucination. you can understand how confusing and distressing this must be for hurley

he's had a compulsive eating disorder since he was ten due to the pain of his father abandoning him. his struggle with this is well documented

at several points during the show he’s shown to have trouble spelling. he especially confuses his “y(s)” and “ies”. it’s not clear if this is due to poor education or a learning issue. or both, really. it’s safe to assume with him being poor, mexican and mentally ill, that school wasn’t easy for hurley

hurley has unjustifiably lived at mental health institutions on at least two occasions (the first time was against his will, second was volunteer)

john locke

depression

locke suffers from severe self esteem issues, and i know most lost characters do, but i mean to the point of irrational and destructive behaviour. he has an obsession with being deemed special in order to justify his existence. he also suffers jarring mood swings. (he can switch from calm and jovial to angry and defensive at the drop of a hat). when he was wheelchair bound, this threw him into a depression. when he failed to convince anybody to come back to the island, he attempted suicide. he would have gone thru with it too. he will go to extremes to make sure things stay the way he wants them to (killing an innocent woman so they can stay on the island, tying up and drugging boone so he won’t tell anybody about the hatch), and will fall into despair if he fails

also note that the things im saying about locke are not a comment on people with depression. i don’t think all depressed people kill and drug people. those were statements on locke’s character that i believe are a part of his mental state. my point is: he’s emotionally unstable and he tried to kill himself. and i think his extreme need for validation (from people and the universe in general) is especially concerning

to me, this all says to me that locke has clinical depression

locke isn’t as easy as the other people on this list to classify as Canon Neurodivergent but at least to me, i think it’s very obvious. like i feel bad being so vague but like, basically, watch any locke episode

daniel faraday

acquired brain damage, severe memory degradation as well as other neurodivergent behaviours (i’ll go into it)

he’s played by jeremy davies. enough said

okay, jokes aside. at some point in the past daniel and his assistant theresa were involved in some vaguely referred to time based experiments. while she was catatonicized, the accident left daniel severely brain damaged (also daniel spent years doing radioactive experiments without head protection, which would not have helped and indeed that is foreshadowing of this whole debacle)

apparently this left him in a state where he can no longer take care of himself, having been assigned a carer. his most outstanding symptom is that his ability to process short AND long term memory has been impaired

short term: he’s shown to have issues retaining memories from day to day. he wasn’t sure if he had met charles widmore already (he hadn’t). charles lays some exposition on him and when daniel asks why he’s telling him this, charles says, with sureness, that “because by tomorrow you won’t remember this”. counting on that to be an absolute fact seems silly to me but that does seem to the case. again, Rule Of Drama is in play here

long term: he can no longer access memories he formed many years ago, famously the memories he formed with desmond in 1996. all in all, this condition is highly plot convenient. can’t argue with results, really

no, i can keep going, i got more, this is daniel fucking faraday we’re talking about: his ability to remember 3 playing cards has been impaired (note that this is a skill most 4 year olds master), he forgot the secret code the science team were all taught and when he introduces himself to jack there is a long pause, in hindsight implying that daniel forgot his own name

like real life memory conditions, theres varying level to how much he does and doesn’t remember. he’s thankfully not in a 50 first dates situation and doesn’t forget everything day to day. clearly he remembers people if they’re around enough, like during his time on the boat. charlotte, miles, frank, naomi...

upon landing on the island, his memory slowly gets better (considering his condition beforehand, the fact that nobody comments on this is staggering)

when dan is fully healed? i could not say, i could theorize, but such things are nebulous. but still, the times we see dan without his brain damage, he still behaves like a neurodivergent person. just not like he was when he was brain damaged. he stims near constantly, has a tendency to repeat names and words (echolalia) and it’s shown that dan compulsively counts in his head. he counted up to 864 beats, if i remember correctly, which is about 10 minutes of counting in his head. by no stretch of the imagination is that neurotypical behaviour

(im not trying to sound defensive. and i don’t think anybody, anywhere, is arguing that daniel faraday is a neurotypical. unfathomable)

going into headcanon territory again, his ND traits, when not brain damaged, say to me that he’s autistic and/or has OCD and possibly anxiety. thats all theorizing on my part tho. but the fact of the matter is, damage or no, he’s neurodivergent

notes

his apparent need for tactile sensory input is legendary in the lost fandom. in layman’s terms: him pet pet. not just people but objects too. humans, overall, tend to touch things to process input better. many ND people do it more, and it seems daniel is a case of that (i am not making a solid statement on jeremy davies’ neuro state. that’s his business)

he shows an inability to properly process grief

he also shows shocking indifference to his own safety, resulting in reckless behaviour. how much of this is a result of his mental state or his upbringing is up for debate. i think it’s a combo of both

without his brain damage, he appears to have an eidetic memory

danielle rousseau

trauma induced mental illness

pretty self explanatory. the loss of her expedition, husband and daughter, as well as 16 years of loneliness (on THIS island) has resulted in emotional instability for danielle. she’s prone to paranoia, trust issues, irrational behaviour

she’s just not well. she’s right most of the time but she’s not well

libby smith

indeterminate mental state

libby was institutionalized (the same place hurley was sent to) and placed on medication (which seemed like sedatives to me, based on her expressions). in the show it’s not what clear what put her there, but having just done some research, i’ve discovered that Word Of God says that libby became mentally unstable after the death of her husband dave smith. so this is probably another case of trauma induced mental illness. she must have had a pretty extreme episode to cause her to be sent to a place like that. something to think about

but alas, it’s libby, so not much info. moving on

benjamin linus

anti social behaviour disorder (is my best guess)

oof. depictions of mental illness with characters who are immoral are depictions of mental illness nonetheless. i feel almost silly saying this but: ben is not... okay

ben displays issues (at best) with empathy, compassion and morality. how much he cares about other people is highly debatable but one thing that's certain is that he does genuinely love his daughter. everybody else is ????

but the loving alex thing rules out him being a sociopath or having narcissistic personality disorder. and it is genuine because when he loses it with grief, it’s not a performance, because the only audience is us...

he’s a compulsive liar, lying even when it doesn’t benefit him. lying just because. ben is highly unpredictable, which isn’t inherently a neurodivergent thing, but when a person goes from a calm discussion to strangling somebody, all roads point to Uh Oh (i don’t know the technical terms for Uh Oh). many of his outward emotions are performed (the difference between his fake smiles and few real smiles is noticeable). he’s manipulative, he treats people like objects for his benefit/plans, he’s self absorbed, he has zero issues with murder unless it’s a child. he does have some moral standards. but overall, uh, [just gestures at ben]

also ben is repeatedly offended when other people don’t trust him, which is HILARIOUS, but also shows a cognitive dissonance on his part

hmm i need more here, im gonna break out the big guns

that’s some basic info there and doesn’t that line up with ben?

the article goes on to say that people with this can put on superficial charm. that is, behave friendly and “normal” when they have to. which ben is shown to be able to do

and this

“Serious problems with interpersonal relationships are often seen in those with the disorder. Attachments and emotional bonds are weak, and interpersonal relationships often revolve around the manipulation, exploitation, and abuse of others.”

reminds me of his situation with juliet. and locke. and his “friendships” in general

i snipped the wikipedia article for this because unlike the rest i felt,,, underequipped to talk about this sort of thing

ben being mentally unwell is clear enough in canon and i think this disorder is what lines up best with it. please note that ben is capable of change and growth (like people in real life who have such issues) and like the show i’m not gonna paint him 100% evil or irredeemable. i’m just saying what’s true

notes

ben says at one point that he doesn’t dream anymore. it’s highly probably that this is a lie, but if it isn’t, well that's not good. it’d mean his brain isn’t entering into REM sleep properly, which can lead to emotional problems

ben doesn’t blink as much as most people do, something michael emerson did on purpose. this can apply to some neurodivergent people

it’s shown that he was quite nonverbal as a kid. in the flashbacks in “man behind the curtain” little ben barely speaks

honourable mentions

pretty much all the survivors suffer from PTSD due the trauma of the crash

a great deal of the characters suffer from PTSD from trauma in general due to their awful lifes. like, abusive parents, war, loss of loved ones, etc

and i must note that ben, daniel and locke suffering from parental abuse, ranging from emotional to physical, is something to factor into their cases

claire, similar to danielle, also suffered trauma induced mental illness due to the loss of her baby and feeling like she was abandoned

sayid is depicted as dead inside during season 6 due to The Sickness, so thats like a magical form of depression. and one could argue that he already had regular depression beforehand

boone joked about shannon having bulimia. (whether or not it’s true, boone is an asshole) if it’s true, shannon has an eating disorder, which is considered a form of mental illness. espech one so self image based

self harm

self harm is not an inherent part of mental illness but such concepts are often linked so i felt i should mention some of these, it’ll be quick

hurley’s aforementioned eating disorder

charlie takes heroin as a form of self harm (that isn’t a theory on my part, it’s clear as day that charlie started taking it because his sense of self worth was so low that the drugs felt like the only option)

locke, hurley, (both as mentioned above), jack, desmond, michael and richard have all attempted/nearly commited suicide

so what can we conclude from this? well that's up to you, really. that i love lost a fuck ton? that the actors and writing in lost is amazing? that all the neurodivergent based depth got saved for the boys? yeah

but i wanna conclude with this: a part of what makes lost really special to me is that these people i’ve talked out here? they’ve suffered, and oh boy it was tasty suffering, but all of them, yes even libby, were more than suffering

these people have nuance. one way or another, these people (to varying degrees) were happy at times. silly. funny. angry. opinionated. they loved. they were loved. they lived and breathed as human beings. that means a lot to me

lost is a story of broken people given a second chance. take that as you will

thank you for your time

#lost #charthann #missinglost #(i don't wanna lose this so i tagged you guys)#i've made a list like this before but i wanna go into detail #and before i knew it i made an incredible essay #lost headcanons #most of this is based on canon but as i said there is extrapolation at play #and i mention some headcanons along the way when i felt it was needed #gosh this became a whole Thing #i hope y'all enjoy it!#and this isn't counting ppl i headcanon as ND #like jack being autistic or charlie having HPD #i could go into that too

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caiminnent · 4 years

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catch me when I fall (from grace) [shaundes, rated T/M]

Prompt: reluctant caretaker (@badthingshappenbingo, 6/25)

Summary:

Sometimes—at the worst of times—he thinks they had it easy, back then; the four of them playing house, trying to save the world without a thought to what comes after.

Congratulations, they did it—now there’s bills to pay.

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed

Tags: Alternate Universe - The Assassins Won, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Blood and Injury, Post-Break Up

Notes: Also written for @acmodernz, which was a lot of fun to be a part of. Go check it out!

4k || Also on AO3

He doesn’t bother with questions anymore.

Before, he would insist on learning all that he humanly could about any situation he was to be tangentially involved in and many he wouldn’t even skirt close to. His mind has always been like that, a terrain of whens and whos and whys, and being on the losing side of a war didn’t help his need to know, either—being on the listening side of countless deaths as he desperately tried to scramble up a connection through whichever line or feed he could get his hands on to direct whoever still remained—if anyone at all—into safety, the mission long aborted.

Nowadays, though, he only asks where, scribbles down the address on the corner of the nearest clean sheet of paper and gets up to throw on some street clothes.

Truth be told, he didn’t know there was a bar left in the city that Desmond had yet to get kicked out of.

------

Even with his back to the door—especially with his back to the door—Desmond is easy to spot on a low-backed stool by the far end of the counter, that hoodie giving him away like a beacon. He’s talking to the bartender—rather, the bartender is talking at him and he presumably responds, most of his face hidden behind the hand he’s tentatively touching on a thin line of white at his forehead.

The dread pooled in Shaun’s gut grows only heavier.

As the bartender moves to the short line that materialised on the other end of the counter, something round in hand, he charts a path through and follows it, doing his best not to touch any of the tables. Desmond is staring down at the half-full glass in front of him, one hand still at the butterfly bandage over his left brow, the other resting on the counter, the reds of his knuckles standing out brightly. Whatever trouble Desmond must have gotten himself into this time, it seems a tad more complicated than having had a little too much.

It would’ve been so easy, turning on his heel and walking straight out of this shithole before he’s spotted. He may have come this far—doesn’t owe it to Desmond to go the extra mile. He could just drive back home, switch off his phone, bury himself in his bed and let someone else save Desmond from himself for once—

Who, though?

“Lucky thing they let you in, looking like that,” he comments as he takes the empty seat next to Desmond. Smelling like that, too, he might add, now that he is close enough; not the sharp drowned in a bottle stench he had expected, but sweat and grime and something else that tickles his nose in all the worst ways.

Desmond’s shoulders tense up, for all he tries to hide it under turning in his stool. “Hello to you, too,” he grumbles, dropping his hand to send him a glare.

Shaun’s stomach slowly sinks to his feet, taking everything on its path with it.

Between the swollen right eye—almost shut, purpling around the edges—and the long scrape down his left cheek, disappearing into his scruff, there doesn’t seem to be anywhere on Desmond’s face left untouched. Even his nose looks wrong somehow—though that might also be the crappy overhead lights—and while his face is carefully cleaned, no trace of blood or anything, his clothes tell of a different story entirely.

He reaches out on instinct to touch where Desmond’s freshly busted his lip—Desmond pulls back before it makes contact, looking away.

Entirely too aware of his heartbeat, he latches his fingers together in his lap, taking a deep breath that does nothing to help the tightness in his chest. “Keep going like this and you won’t get to skate by your looks much longer,” he says, because if he doesn’t say something, he’s going to fucking burst.

Desmond glares at him through the one eye, scowl dragging deeper—then glances at a spot above Shaun’s head, straightening up. Shaun turns as well, to find the bartender approaching them with a—thankfully, clean-looking—rag full of ice, a purple pin that reads “THEY/THEM” shining over the black of the apron.

The bartender gives him only a passing glance, a quick size-up before turning and handing the bundle to Desmond, who takes it with a mumble of thanks and holds it on his eye. They reach over the counter to fix his grip, casual as you please.

The taste in his mouth turns sour.

“How’s the head?” they ask Desmond gently, open concern lining their face as they peer down at him.

Desmond winces, which seems to pass for a response. With the offending eye covered, he looks even more wretched somehow, the rest of his injuries on better display. Shaun hadn’t noticed how gaunt his cheeks have gotten, the fading spread of bruises on his face, in too many different shades to be all from today—or, possibly, even the same day.

What in the world has the bloody idiot been up to all this time?

Leaving Desmond with the bundle, the bartender turns to finally look at Shaun—through him, more accurately, as if they could get his background check and an X-ray with one glance. He firmly believes that he should be the one to dish out the suspicious glares, given the circumstances, but he’s not particularly adamant on arguing the point.

“Shaun, was it,” they say without extending their hand, not quite a question.

This tone he recognises, at least. “It was,” he confirms, making no move to extend his, either. “And you’re the mysterious voice on the phone, I take it.” Not what he was expecting to find on this side, admittedly.

“MJ,” they say with a single nod. “Mighty nice to finally put a face to the name, I’ll say.” They tilt their chin to Desmond, who has that glare fixed in MJ’s direction now, drumming his fingers on the countertop. “Dessie here told me all about you.”

Did he now. Dessie sure as hell didn’t breathe a word to him about MJ. “All good things, I’m sure.”

“Good enough that I’ll let you take him home and fix him up,” they say, sweeping a hand widely as if they’re making a generous concession on his behalf.

Right. That’s why he’s here—because he was chosen.

“And I’ll thank you for the privilege,” he says with an overplayed nod of thanks, not bothering to keep the resentment out of his tone. This whole exchange—it’s nothing more than an elaborate hand-over.

MJ leans over the counter on their hands and looks at him squarely, all hard eyes on too soft a face. Desmond always did have a type. “If you’d rather leave him here and walk away, be my guest,” they offer, grinning with too many teeth. “Your number wasn’t the only one on his phone.”

As if.

He slowly straightens up on his stool, resting his forearms on the edge of the counter. At this angle, they’re about eye to eye, he and MJ. “Probably not,” he agrees, cordial enough even as his face tingles at the jab, all his blood rushing north. “But it was the only one that would answer a call from him at this hour.”

Too harsh? Perhaps, but that doesn’t make it any less true. He knows better than to fool himself; Desmond didn’t pick him for his gentle touch and stellar company.

Ignoring the hollowing of his gut, he half-turns to Desmond. “Ready when you are.”

“’m ready now,” Desmond mutters to the counter. Shaun nods, reaching for his pocket.

“All taken care of,” MJ says before he can pull out his wallet, waving him off. They’re still watching him with that careful look, though this time it feels less like being sized up, more like he has been—and found thoroughly lacking. Oh well, he’s used to being a disappointment. “Just take him home.”

That much he can manage.

------

Desmond’s most recent rat hole is another forty minutes from the bar, on the far side of a neighbourhood considered to be within the city borders merely because no one cared enough to exclude it.

“Like fuck,” Shaun mutters and punches in the address of his own flat into the navigation system, steeling himself for the argument or the irritated sigh or whatever else Desmond might be in the mood for tonight.

Desmond turns back to the window without a word. Small mercies.

------

Soon, though, he finds himself wishing for that argument after all. Without anything to distract it, it’s all too easy for his mind to stray to other times like this: escaping towns in the dead of the night, taking turns driving and keeping an eye on the road, the radio on low so as not to disturb those sleeping in the back. Sometimes—at the worst of times—he thinks they had it easy, back then; the four of them playing house, trying to save the world without a thought to what comes after.

Congratulations, they did it—now there’s bills to pay.

Desmond has his gaze fixed on the windshield as if he can even see anything, his bag under his crossed arms, running an idle thumb over his new split. If he keeps at it, he’ll have a matching set soon enough.

“I don’t think I’ve got any ice at home,” Shaun says instead of pointing that out. Desmond drops his hand as if burned anyway. “You might have to make do with frozen peas.”

“’s fine,” Desmond sighs. “Too late anyway.”

That it is.

------

On the bright side, under the decent lighting of the flat, Desmond’s nose doesn’t seem to be broken.

The flip side he stubbornly chooses to ignore as he works down the buttons of his coat; Desmond's already stripped down to his thin shirt in his periphery, tugging at his shoelaces. Not even in long sleeves—of course not. Leave it to Desmond to strut about in threadbare clothing when it’s fuck degrees out there.

“I trust you remember where the shower is,” he says as he hangs his coat and puts away their shoes, Desmond’s bag on top of them. Desmond only grunts in answer before slinking down the hallway, likely because he’d needed to go that way anyway.

Dragging himself to the bedroom, he exchanges his trousers for a clean pair of joggers and digs around until he finds one that might fit Desmond—something that would’ve been practically impossible the last time they saw each other. Picking out a sweatshirt as well—that doesn’t seem to be his own in the first place, come to think of it—he walks back out and drops them at the bathroom door, knocking twice.

“Left you some clothes,” he calls out and waits until he gets a muffled response back. That’s one thing done.

Up next, kitchen—god, oh god, the kitchen. He had completely forgotten the state he’d left it in. The dinner table is covered with papers—in an every-fucking-where way instead of the neat, systematic thing he had imagined the sight to be. The coffee cups he truly did mean to put in the sink are still sitting next to his laptop, as the sink is already overfilled with dishes and the semi-burned pot he’d left to soak overnight three days ago, more littering about the rest of the counter. All right, things may have gotten out of hand a bit, in hindsight; but he can’t be blamed for it. Between school and his research, he’s barely had time to remember to feed himself, let alone keeping things clean and tidy. Not as if he was expecting guests.

He really shouldn’t have answered the phone.

He starts tidying up in haste—which is to say, all papers go on top of the closed laptop in a messy, uneven pile and all dishes in the sink now filled with water, including the two cups of coffee that went cold long before he could even touch them. Taking a moment to listen out for the water—still running, fortunately—he peers into his fridge, his stomach sinking at the sight once again. It’s not barren, as such; but he didn’t have the time for grocery shopping, either, which shows. He’s never had his mother’s skill of concocting something out of practically nothing, but digging deeper, he can spot just enough to prepare an early—very early—breakfast.

It is AM hours, after all. It should count.

He grabs the egg carton and piles up whatever else he can find onto the table. While at it, he dips into his—rather impressive, if he may say so himself—tea selection as well. By the time the bathroom door opens, he has what he can call a modest spread on the table, teabag steeping in the mug.

When it opens for the second time, he flips the omelette.

He’s gotten too used to the almost uniform quiet of the flat; Desmond’s footsteps stand out as he approaches, a light shuffle on the carpet right up until they stop in the doorway. Switching the stove off, Shaun wets a cloth and grabs the pan, taking them both to the table.

“All my flat plates are at the bottom of the sink,” he—unnecessarily—explains as he sets the cloth on the table, the pan on top of it. “You’ll just have to deal.”

Desmond is lingering in the doorway, glancing between Shaun and the table with this odd, almost tender look. The weight that has been dancing in his stomach seats itself in the middle of his chest, right under his heart.

“You didn’t have to,” Desmond rasps, just enough of a question mark in the tone. Shaun doesn’t know the question leading to it—isn’t sure he wants to, either.

“Damn right I didn’t,” he throws back, because the alternative is blurting out what the fuck else was I supposed to do and that’s plain embarrassing. The clothes don’t hang off Desmond’s frame as much as he feared, but he wasn’t terribly off in his estimation, either—certainly not enough to be relieved about it. He clears his throat. “But since it’s already done, you might as well sit down and eat before it gets cold.”

Desmond finally moves to the table, not without one last glance at him. Shaun keeps his glare on him until he picks up his fork and reaches for the olives just in case.

With that crossed off the list, he folds up his sleeves, unclips his watch and starts on the dishes. He hardly has a burning desire to get them out of the way, but it’s something to do, at least. Beats standing there and thinking himself into corners.

Right now, everything beats thinking.

The silence stretches between them, almost peaceful for once. It’s… interesting, the change of air that comes with having someone else in the room. He didn’t quite miss cramming into safe houses for weeks, sometimes months at a time, nothing but the same bland walls and each other’s faces to stare at; but it would be a lie to say he never looks up from his laptop to an empty flat and wishes he had someone to share this shiny thing he’s just stumbled upon, the excitement of the discovery blending with the bitter disappointment.

Paper shuffles behind him, the unmistakeable sound of Desmond getting his grubby hands on his research. The instinct is to snap don’t touch my notes; he pushes it down. Not even on their emptiest days did his work keep Desmond interested for long; he just needs to wait out the three seconds before Desmond gets bored.

“You still researching the Pieces?”

Huh. Now that’s new.

“Without much success,” he admits, reaching into the water for another cup. “With the network down, my research ‘team’ boils down to me and the occasional student I manage to snatch from other projects. Not what you could call a concentrated effort.”

Desmond makes a sound that, under different conditions, could be considered amused. A strange warmth spreads through him. “Thought you must’ve had enough of ‘em for two lifetimes.”

He snorts, despite himself. “Hardly. This was my life’s discovery; it’ll be a cold day in hell before I give it up.”

Most of the time, he doesn’t blame Lucy for the choices she’d made. Couldn’t, really; not when the woman gave up her life for what she believed was right and brought down a war that spanned millennia with her. Just, the historian in him can’t help grieving all the knowledge the world has lost without even knowing that they had it in the first place.

He turns his head a little, just enough to get Desmond in his view. “What about you?” he asks, aiming for a conversational tone. Where have you been is the burning question, followed by who broke your face? He settles on: “How have you been?”

Desmond gives him a long, considering look—uncomfortably reminiscent of MJ. Shrugs a shoulder, too stiff to be casual. “Been better, been worse. You know how it is.”

Disappointment curls in his gut, too heavy to push away. Right. Whatever made him think he might get a real answer for once anyway.

Wash, rinse, put away, repeat. The last of the dishes on the drying rack, he unplugs the sink and grabs the pot, emptying it into the water draining down. It’s probably unsalvageable, realistically, but it’s not in his nature to let go without a fight. His to-do list is long enough without adding shopping for kitchenware on it.

The chair creaks, dragging against the tiles. It’s entirely unwelcome, the tension that creeps up his spine, the sound alone enough to shift all his awareness to the movement behind him.

Desmond drops his dishes next to the sink one by one, including the mostly-full cup of tea that he puts down with an apologetic half-smile. “Thanks.”

He nods in response, scrubbing the pot harder.

Instead of stepping away like anyone with some respect for personal space would, Desmond keeps standing right there, resting a hand on the edge of the counter, seemingly watching the side of Shaun’s head. This close, Shaun can smell his own shampoo on him if he tries, the sweeter scent of his fabric softener underneath.

Desmond sighs. “I’ve missed you,” he whispers and—

And his heart still responds, the traitor.

They’ve been here before. They’ve been here so many times before that it shouldn’t even matter, now, that Desmond can still find it in himself to say the words. He’d said other words before; where did that get them?

“Well, you obviously still have my number,” he bites out, the words like ash on his tongue. “You’ve never had to get yourself kicked out of bars or—or—beaten up to use it.”

Desmond shifts away. The bastard doesn’t even care to look at him, staring at some spot on the far wall instead, the tip of his tongue back on the split as if he wants it to scar. Started something he can’t see through; how typical.

Dropping the sponge into the pot—not as if he was getting anywhere—he runs his hands under the water and grabs a towel. “Where have you been, Desmond?” he asks without looking at him, busying himself with dying his hands thoroughly, too tired to keep beating around the bush. There isn’t enough space in the room even with Desmond backed away—not nearly enough air.

“Around.”

Around. “I see,” he says, nodding slowly. “Perhaps I should ask MJ instead, see if they know all about that, too.”

Desmond stiffens, his hand clenching on the edge. “Don’t bring them into this,” he says tightly—not a threat, not quite, but a warning through and through.

So that’s how it is.

“As far as I’m concerned, you brought them into this,” he points out. “I didn’t even know they existed until tonight, now did I.” He rests a hip against the counter, folding his arms across his chest, the towel still clutched tight in his fist. “Who are they, by the way?”

“The only one on my side when I needed someone to be the most,” Desmond responds with a pointed look, his lips pressed together—and oh, isn’t that rich.

So many responses he could give to that, so many biting remarks, the weight of them almost physical on the tip of his tongue. “I thought you didn’t need people anymore,” he says simply, leaning heavier on his hip. Desmond flinches. “Big boy Desmond, running away from his problems all by his lonesome, no help necessary—just be there to pick up the pieces afterwards.”

Something dark passes over Desmond’s face, blink-and-you-miss-it. “I’m trying to do better.”

He lets his eyes wander down Desmond’s face, the cut of his knuckles that are still flaring red with a hint of purple. Desmond’s hand twitches again. “Clearly.”

“Jesus Christ, I forgot you were this much of an asshole,” Desmond mutters under his breath. It’s not even in the general vicinity of the worst names they’ve called each other—it shouldn’t sting. Not as much as it does.

“Can you blame me? You ring me up from a bar after—what, seven, eight months of radio silence, looking like this—” He waves his free hand up and down Desmond’s body. “—and expect me to give you the benefit of the doubt. Don’t get me wrong, Desmond, but you don’t exactly have the sort of track record that inspires blind trust.”

“I’m not—” Desmond starts only to cut himself off on a long exhale, shaking his head. Making the three steps over to the table, he drops himself on a chair in an ungainly heap and rests his elbows on the bread crumb-covered surface.

“I don’t expect anything of you,” Desmond starts again slowly, exhaustion wrapped around his words. Anger doesn’t drain out of Shaun, but it’s that much harder to keep going when Desmond starts rubbing at his temples with enough force that Shaun’s head throbs just to watch. “I’m not here to—I dunno, to get back into your good graces or whatever scheme you think I’m halfway capable of thinkin’ up.”

“Then why are you here?” Shaun snaps—realises, with an odd cramping of his stomach, that this was the burning question after all. This was the one that haunted him all this time, whenever Desmond’s name popped up on his screen. Whenever it didn’t.

Desmond looks up from the table sideways, one hand still at his temple. “What do you mean?”

Part of him wants to take it back, to wave it off with a curt never mind and making a hasty exit to prepare Desmond’s bed. The stupider, impulsive part is already pushing on with: “You make friends faster than I can lose them; I’m sure you could find somewhere to crash even in the state you were, didn’t have to suffer my hospitality.” Why me, he’s smart enough to hold back, at least.

The curl of Desmond’s lips is odd—too sharp for a smile, too soft for anything else. “Why do you always come?”

Why indeed.

Releasing a breath that takes more than air out of him, he makes his fingers uncurl around the towel and folds it into a neat square, placing it on the counter. The pot is still sitting in the sink, the sponge in the middle of it like a sunken ship. It’s too late to deal with the dishes—for this conversation—it’s too late for bloody anything.

“There are sheets and a spare pillow in the closet,” he says, pointing in the general direction of the closet in the next room. “I believe you can make your bed yourself. I’m going to sleep.”

Desmond nods, a barely-there movement. Shaun only lingers in the kitchen long enough to bin the used teabag and line the rest of the dishes around the pot to deal with tomorrow. Later today. Whenever.

It must be the hour messing with his head, why he pauses in the doorway just before he leaves and says, “And don’t leave without a goodbye this time.”

“Okay,” Desmond lies.

And so it goes.

#badthingshappenbingo #shaundes #Shaun Hastings #Desmond Miles #acmodernzine #Assassin's Creed #Cai does words #finished fics #catch me when I fall (from grace)#this fic was a rollercoaster to write #that's all I'm going to say #content warnings #alcohol abuse #alcoholism #past character death #blood and injury #I actually don't know how tagging works here #desynch gets rambly in tags

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seanhtaylor · 3 years

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Sean Taylor destroys the Pulp Heroes

As promised, here is my destructive mind unleashed on the classic pulp magazine heroes. For this little thought experiment, I'm recreating these characters in the time period of the actual pulp magazines, as if published in an alternate universe. I’m also trying to stick to the magazine characters.

Without any further delay, you may totally hate me now in case I have spread my nonsense all over one of your faves.

The Avenger -- Upon returning home to the U.S., David Cowen was lynched because he dared to publicly hug a white female friend he had met in Paris while touring with a jazz ensemble, but his story didn't end there. He was reborn to seek retribution for all who were punished unjustly, whether by mob violence, the justice system, or by killers who thought they got away with it.

The Black Bat -- Emily Jenkins used to have it all, but when her family name was smeared and her family fortune lost when he father was taken by authorities and blamed for an attempted assassination of the touring President Roosevelt, she grew bitter and swore she’d get even and steal it all back. As the thief and assassin, the Black Bat, she targets those she believes were responsible for her family’s ruin.

Captain Future -- A disgraced spiritualist who really can see roughly seven minutes into the future, but failed as a medium to the high society because they wanted more than that, Antony Fratelli decided to end it all when he just happened to be able to glimpse the future of a woman near him who was about to be kidnapped. Using his knowledge of the future, he saved her life and was able to disable the two kidnappers. Now revitalized, he wears a cap and full face mask as Captain Future and seeks to protect those who don’t know yet that danger is just around the corner.

Dan Turner, Hollywood Detective -- Dan Turner just escaped from an asylum, where he has been for 12 years after convicted of murder (he may or may not have committed, he remembered nothing about it) but considered unfit for trial due to his mental state. After leaving the Midwest and heading to California, Dan has recreated himself as a private eye. But how long can he keep the truth hidden, especially when a real PI shows up trying to track him down.

Doc Savage -- Doctor Alex Savage was one of Chicago’s premier surgeons, but when a tragic reaction to a medicine during a study caused him to regress to an almost feral state, he practically became a true savage overnight and was legally given to his sister’s care. After she was attacked and left for dead in a New York park, his sister now uses him as her weapon against those who would harm women as she finds brutal men and unleashes her savage brother on them.

Doctor Death -- Byron Kincade is an African-American bouncer at Mama Joe’s in Savannah, Georgia. A former boxer who retired with a bum leg, he was at work one night when thugs busted into the bar and killed his secret lover, Desmond Smith. That night he made a hooded mask and built a mechanical brace to enable him to seek justice on the streets. Don’t expect mercy from Doctor Death.

Ki-Gor -- Franklin Anderson was an actor, portraying the serial’s greatest matinee hero -- Ki-Gor the Jungle King. Only, an accident almost killed him and left him in a coma. When he awoke, he believed himself to truly be the jungle king he portrayed on screen, and now he only pretends to be Franklin Anderson by day, determined to prove himself the king of this new jungle in which he finds himself. And to do that, he must first protect from anyone who seeks to hurt his new subjects.

The Phantom Detective -- Jeremy McDonald died in 1786, but that didn’t stop him. Connected to his wife’s broach due to her love for him, he eventually found himself in the presence of his great-great-great and then some) niece Agatha Breckenridge, one of Chicago’s few female P.I.s. Although only she can see and communicate with him, she’s learning that it can be really helpful to have a ghost as a partner.

Secret Agent X -- They’re trained. They’re lethal. And they don’t know they’re even agents until activated by a sonic device carried by their handler, Mr. Washington. Certain citizens are born with a genetic predisposition toward activation, and it’s Washington’s job to find them and put them to good use for the US of A when dangerous spies are on American soil.

The Shadow (La Umbra) -- Maria Rodriquez was killed in a mob shootout, but before she passed, her spirit took refuge in her shadow. Now a living shadow, she seeks out vengeance against the two mob groups that caused her death. Able to interact with the shadows of other people to affect the person to whom the shadow belongs, she’s more dangerous than she knows. Finally aware of her and her vendetta, the Andressi mob has called in a Voodoo priest to capture her and control her as a tool for the mob.

The Spider (Arachne) -- Beware Arachne, criminal scum. Her touch is poison. Madeline Wilshire was born into one of the oldest and richest families in New Hampshire, but not even that could save her from being cursed by a Shaman from whom her father stole a tribal heirloom. Born with a touch that can seep a deadly poison, she was kept locked away for years until she was old enough to be sent away to an asylum in New York. Learning how to control her curse, she was able to finally be released at age 21. Now refusing to have anything to do with her family, she has decided to create a new life for herself in the Big Apple and just maybe trying out her hand as the vigilante schtick with her venomous abilities as an asset for once and not just a curse.

Domino Lady -- Greta Hanwick may only be 17 years old, but she’s already a fantastic athlete with medals in swimming, archery, and gymnastics. Upon hearing of all the new masked vigilantes popping up, she decides to join the crowd and “age up” as the sophisticated but deadly Domino Lady, but is such a dangerous job a safe place to be for a teenage girl? Or will her determination be enough to help her succeed?

Green Lama -- Born on Mars, D’jrk spent centuries studying and learning to fit into Earth culture. Now he has a family and a job as a district attorney in Los Angeles. He has avoided using his otherworldly abilities for years, but since his 10 year old daughter Margaret has begun to show signs of such abilities, he decides that it’s time to teach her now to use them without being discovered, even by her mother. And the best way to do that is to blend in with the new capes and masks crowd that is appearing all over the U.S.

Jim Anthony, Super Detective -- A former cop with a perfect record of closing murder cases, Jack Yeoman was gunned down by the local gangster with a grudge. After healing, Jack changed his name to Jim Anthony and used the scars from his shooting (body and face) to open up shop as a P.I. with an ego as big as his abilities -- The Super Detective!

Moon Man -- Moon Man isn’t even a man. Darla Hopkins has been on the run from her cult family and pretending to be a man for so long thanks to her (as she was told growing up) unwomanly build, she can barely remember growing up as a girl. Moving from circus to circus as a strongman (she always had been stronger than her brothers), and taking odd jobs as she could, she never stayed in one place for long -- until she met Lorraine Pierce during her stay in Nashville. Now, determined to stay and finally create a life for herself and Lorraine, she continues to pretend and has even allowed Lorraine to convince her to join the ranks of costumed vigilantes as Moon Man, since she patrols and protect under the light of the moon -- with Lorraine as her sidekick, Luna, of course.

Golden Amazon -- Discovered in 1894 in a dig in the jungles of South America, a solid gold statue of a beautiful woman was excavated and brought back to New York and placed on exhibit at the Grover Museum of Antiquities. But when a child with one brown eye and one blue eye is born to the Mayor of New York, the statue suddenly comes to life. It’s mission -- to destroy the child prophesied to bring about the end of the world.

#seantaylordestroys #pulp heroes

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dazais-guardian-angel · 3 years

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This post has been sitting in my drafts since like mid-November around when I finished replaying the game, long enough for me to write and upload a fic about some of the concepts I wrote here, what the fuck. DGS brainrot is real. But aNYWAY finally, here are my massive thoughts on Unwound Future, the golden child of the PL series. This is literally *checks* 8k words, because I can never shut up!! and because there is just SO much going on in this game at all times, so many different interweaving plot threads and funny moments and incredible, fascinating characterization, especially combined with the games that come after it; I just had SO much to say. So much analyzing and headcanons and crying galore. :’) There’s a reason this is considered the best game, and that’s why I had so damn much to talk about.

behold the incoherent, rambling, unconnected mess of a novel that I hope makes a modicum of sense under the cut:

Continuing the trend, this game has simply AMAZING graphics/art/music, with a huge uptick in cutscenes and voice acting, and I feel like the sound/music quality is greatly improved too? I love the main bgm for London in this game, never really remembered loving it before, but it’s just *chef’s kiss* and so is the song that plays in other areas like the hospital and subway

Quickly mentioning the gameplay, I really love all the minigames, and the storybooks are especially hilarious to play with putting the wrong things in the spaces to create mad libs-esque crack that makes no sense; it’s so fun lmao

The beginning flashback segment with the time machine demonstration is honestly just so funny, for so many different reasons: Dimitri droning on and on with time travel technobabble while Luke, Bill, Chelmey, and Barton represent the definitive last four brain cells. Hershel being skeptical about successful time travel after all the magical shit they went through just like a year or two ago. The way that Bill’s sprite slowly and nervously shuffles onscreen after Dimitri calls him to the stage, like omg I don’t know why that cracks me up so much but it does. Dimitri’s lowkey savage shade he’s throwing at Bill throughout this whole thing. The way Bill says “wHAT” when Dimitri asks him to help, clearly about to shit his pants. Dimitri just standing there completely unfazed as the smoke from the machine flies past him. And of course, “sOmEtHiNg’S gOnE vErY wRoNg!”

…okay but in all seriousness, am I just stupid or do they never explain how they get Bill to the underground city, like the machine CLEARLY explodes with him in it, there was no secret elevator built into the thing like at the clock shop, so…???

also the presenter’s voice is really funny lmao

Still disagree that this is the biggest mystery they’ve ever encountered, despite being near the top; Luke you say that literally every game!! so what is the truth!!

Spring’s face is terrifying as FUCK in the two cutscenes in the clock shop… why they decided to show both of them in ominous, shadowed lighting in those scenes I do not understand a;lskdl;fds

I need someone to draw a diagram of how exactly the shop looks as a giant elevator because frankly I still can’t wrap my brain around it-

THE FACT THAT WE NEVER GET TO MAKE UP WITH HAZEL IS A TRAVESTY, HONESTLY

Belle… why…… ugh

Wish they’d had “Schrader” drop a casual nod to the events of Diabolical Box; it would have been cool :’) (especially since this is Paul so he’d know about all that)

College-age Hershel is just….. the pinnacle of adorableness. someone protect him from all the pain

One of the few flaws/plot holes in the story of Unwound Future that I only noticed during this replay with more media under my belt, is the that the developers didn’t really decide on what kind of time travel they wanted to portray, or more likely just didn’t scrutinize Clive’s fake role enough when writing it. This is blatantly obvious upon the very first meeting with Clive where he desires to test Hershel to make sure he’s really him. Obviously in a closed loop scenario, everything Luke and Hershel are doing “Future Luke” should remember doing himself in his past, so a test would not be necessary; this is a major trip-up on his part that it’s very odd Hershel doesn’t notice for how smart he is, imo. However, later on when meeting “Future Layton”, Paul calls Dimitri out on this exact principle, proving that he’s not actually Future Layton because he doesn’t remember the absence of a pen in Hershel’s pocket in this moment in his past, and it’s a nice little touch that Paul, on the other hand, an actual scientist, would mention this. Back to Future Luke, though, he should know how everything goes down with stopping Future Layton, because he lived it all as a child with Hershel, which makes it even more dubious to the fact that after seeing all this, Hershel still goes dark and everything plays out the exact same way it’s portrayed in the “future” of the game; it’s the idea that destined fate can’t be changed, but the suspension of disbelief is quite high, especially since we already doubt that Hershel would ever do such a thing, knowing what kind of person he is. Of course this wouldn’t be the case in an open-loop/branching timelines universe, but since the game uses the former type with the pen argument (and something else important I’ll mention in a second), I feel like the rest of the game should have adopted this idea as well and addressed it. Because Dimitri is outed via the fact that he should have memory of things he doesn’t, so it would have been easy to simply add Hershel adding that argument into his final explanation in the bar (”my suspicions were first raised when we first met Big Luke, and he didn’t know if I was really who I said I was- [etc etc]”). Even if they didn’t want Hershel to bring this up early else the entire story would fall apart, they could simply draw attention to the fact that he notices something in these moments, like with a “...” or “Hmm”, and then he explains it at the end like I said. Interestingly enough, Clive actually addresses these concepts at one point in the game with Luke in the statue plaza: he doesn’t want to tell Luke how things play out in his future, so that… things play out the way they’re supposed to…? Even though his entire story here is that he wished Hershel hadn’t gone dark and distanced from him, and ruined the city? But then he makes the suggestion that they could instead be operating on an open-loop/multiple timelines system, where in his past he never travelled to the future, but in our Luke and Hershel’s timeline they do. This is only a hypothetical he gives though, with him seeming unsure of how things truly are, which… again, in this story he’s concocted, he should know for sure, because if he doesn’t “remember” time traveling and how everything went down, then they’re operating on different timelines and it shouldn’t matter how much he tells Luke about his future. You can definitely argue that in-universe Clive didn’t think all this through when planning his dialogue for this role (but I honestly find that hard to believe, since he’s so intelligent, and he nailed the realism of everything else to a T), but it’s obvious just that the writers didn’t think it through, because like I said Hershel really should have picked up on his blunder when they first met, as well as later when Clive is surprised to see Flora suddenly with them and didn’t know for a fact that she and Chelmey/Barton would arrive there. Since the time travel scenario in 99% of the game isn’t actually real, I don’t entirely fault the writers for not getting every single detail right… and yet, that 1% exists where time travel is real, with Claire’s situation. It’s a very isolated incident though that wouldn’t be replicated, with only her going to the future… and yet, she does return to the past again, if only for a split second before dying and thus not enough time to do anything with her future knowledge, the real thing to note here being that they took care to show that she was wearing the same outfit when she died that she gets in the future, one she wasn’t wearing when she entered the lab originally. So they DID think about some things very well, like such a minor and easily-overlooked detail here (but that blows your mind once you realize it). All this is hardly enough to ruin the game or break the immersion completely though, especially since the player is already predisposed to heavily doubt everything with PL’s “the town is a lie” track record lmao, but I can’t help but be bothered by it now after playing games like Zero Escape and watching time travel shows like netflix’s Dark, which have bootstrap parodoxes and timeloops galore looool. My friend who watched me play the game blind this time around brought up all these questions as Clive said things, as someone who didn’t know if it would end up being real or not, and so I spent a lot of time puzzling (har har) it out with her… even though it wouldn’t matter lmao.

……In short, if it wasn’t obvious, despite Unwound Future’s time travel setup being completely fake, I’m really fascinated by the notion of how it would all work if it was real. >.> …and I mean, I know I’m not the first one; monocle Layton aus are popular, after all, but I don’t really care quite as much about the allure of an “evil Layton” as I do just about how everything else would be, I think.

Because, like, lets be real? taking the prequels into account with Unwound Future’s proposed setup, the potential is endless. It honestly KILLS me that the prequels didn’t exist yet at the time of UF, because!! so many people from Hershel’s past!!! SO MANY REASONS FOR HIM TO WANT TO HARNASS TIME TRAVEL AND CHANGE THE PAST, NOT JUST FOR CLAIRE’S SAKE. FOR RANHENGELA’S SAKE. FOR LUKE AND EMMY’S SAKE. FOR HIS PARENTS’ SAKE. FOR DESMOND. listen, listen, you don’t understand how much the idea of Desmond being involved in UF’s concepts destroys me. I wrote about this in my last fic but. imagine if Desmond learned about Hershel going down a dark path for his sake and everyone else’s, just like he did. Or imagine if, instead of Hershel being the one to do it, it was Desmond himself; he’s willing to play the bad guy once again, one very final, this time definitely final, time, if it means he can undo everything that caused all of them so much pain in the first place: his betrayals, the death of his former wife, he and Theodore’s separation, their father’s betrayal, ALL of it, and Hershel would never know. When Luke first is like “oh it’s gotta be Don Paolo right” and Clive says no, i LITERALLY screamed “BUT IT COULD BE DESCOLE!!”. JUST. PAIN. And where would Randall be in this future; what would he, too, think if it was Hershel going after time travel? Imagine him trying to smack some sense into him just like Hershel does in MM, trying to tell him that despite those lost 18 years of his life, despite everything wrong he ended up doing, he’s still happy, and so are Henry and Angela. So is Desmond. And Emmy, she wouldn’t want undone those years she had with Hershel and Luke and then Aurora and Desmond, despite how sadly it ended. Just… so much pain. So much potential. I hurt :’)

and adding on to this, i love love LOVE the idea of Clive knowing about some of this stuff in Hershel’s past, in order to faithfully play his role as Future Luke. Like obviously he wasn’t in Misthallory with them all, he wasn’t on the island in ED, he wasn’t at Monte’dor, and he wasn’t on the Bostonius or at all those Azran ruins that I can’t remember the names of right now, of course he wouldn’t know the intimate, specific details of what all went down, but if there was just one npc who was in the right place at the right time at any of these locations, who knows what beans they could spill? Maybe even an ex-Targent person or something. Hell, fucking Bronev is in jail for at least a little while before the events of UF. There are possibly MANY people Clive could have gotten information from to pull off this role - he’s a reporter, he’s skilled at digging for stuff. Not to mention just reading and hearing about large incidents in the news. And this makes his character so much better because he’s admired Hershel for so long, grateful that he saved his life all this time, to the point that he asks him to unknowingly come and save him again… and he most definitely didn’t know back when he first encountered Hershel that he’d already experienced so much loss and pain as well (some of which Hershel hadn’t even gone through yet by that point), but learning about everything he’s suffered? I think it would really affect him, and possibly contribute to why he asks him for his help in the first place in UF: because Hershel has suffered just as much as he has, and he feels a connection to him, feels like he can relate to him, and wants someone who can empathize with him, and show him how to cope. All of these reasons and emotions would probably be completely on an unconscious level, but they would exist - he’d use this limited but meaningful knowledge to try to connect with Hershel more when he’s still in Future Luke mode, to try to convince him he’s really Luke, at first, but unconsciously it’d be an effort to get closer to him emotionally, which is what he truly desires deep down, until his so-called act somewhat stops being an act, and talking about these things makes his vulnerabilities start to show (again, i wrote a fic about this). This all just adds to why Hershel is the perfect person to help and support Clive - the prequels make their similarities even stronger, more than just with Hershel losing Claire, and those accidental parallels when the writers hadn’t even conceived the prequel trilogy at the time of UF are just *chef’s kiss* beautiful.

THE CASINO SCENE IS JUST ICONIC, IT’S SO FUNNY. LUKE BEING SCARED OF THE SHOOTING AND HERSHEL JUST DITCHING HIM. CLIVE’S LITTLE HOP AND ROLL BEHIND THE SLOT MACHINES. THE SLOT MACHINE GUN IN GENERAL. THE CLONE FAMILY MEMBERS FALLING OVER LIKE DOMINOS UPON BEING HIT. BOSTRO CRYING AND SPLINTERS AND LOCKJAW RUNNING IN CIRCLES PANICKING WHILE LAYMAN JUST IS LITERALLY PUSHED BACK SLOWLY WITH ONLY A CHAIR TO DEFEND HIMSELF, I CANNOT STRESS ENOUGH HOW FUNNY LAYMAN AS A CHARACTER IS TO ME. it’s just so glorious, oh my god. this series is ridiculous i love it so much lmao

Luke wanting to use the time machine though… there are so many reasons why he might want to, mainly from Azran Legacy. :’)

The statue is the worst thing ever for multiple reasons. The fact that it represents Hershel & Luke’s relationship, the two main characters, who have been through so much together and have such a strong bond that can never be broken, and how it ties into the whole Evil Layton scenario and seems to foreshadow that their bond does end up breaking, as “Future Luke” seems to be proof of (though the game doesn’t really put much emphasis on this; Luke is more worried about the fact that he’s moving away soon straining their relationship, and not the whole Future Layton thing. imo it would have been interesting to see his actual thoughts on/feelings about it, since he’s surprisingly calm throughout the entire game before the reveals happen; you can argue he just has complete faith in Hershel and doesn’t think he would ever go dark, but then why doesn’t he bring this up, insist that this can’t be true? I think he should have). The fact that as I just said it foreshadows how Luke will leave Hershel at the end of the game, something that Luke worries about later on in the game. And most of all, the biggest, worst thing it foreshadows… Hershel’s relationship with Clive. Clive had that statue made himself, put it in his giant set. He WANTS that kind of mentor-student bond with Hershel, that’s how he sees them, just from their one interaction in front of the exploding buildings… or at least, that’s how he wants to see it. He sees how close Hershel and Luke are throughout the entire game, and he yearns for that kind of bond with Hershel, too. The fact that the boy in the statue story has an illness that he eventually dies from, but that their friendship withstands… it’s probably meant to represent Clive’s insanity, that he hopes Hershel will save him from - he is Clive’s light of hope in his despair. Or, to be more accurate to the statue, even if Clive’s madness ends up killing him (which it very nearly does, and by that point he fully expects that it will), he’ll still have had those memories of that time he spent with him, and Hershel will never forget him, and that will mean something special. man though can you imagine an AU where Clive is literally terminally ill too, and that’s why he’s yolo-ing this entire thing so hard and doesn’t care if it ends up killing him in the end, at least he got to be with Hershel one more day; ahahahaha turn up the angsttttttttttttt-

Shmelmey and Shmarton do not at all look like Chelmey and Barton, smh

For everything Clive accounted for with his role and setting, he’s honestly way too rude and crass sometimes to be Luke lmao, even if you try to imagine a world where Hershel did go dark and Luke was changed by it… at least imo

the like 4 puzzles that give Clive’s solving animations/dialogue are the most serotonin-boosting things in the world

“you will come back, won’t you?” Clive asks Hershel about his trip to visit Chelmey, desperately wanting him to stop him before it’s too late :’)

Rosetta and her....... sessions....... with Hershel........ hajkkALSKDLD

Okay but Hershel is kind of dickish sometimes though, despite his whole “gentleman” thing??? There’s the elephant in the room which I’ll Get To, but like first he guilt-trips Chelmey into getting him access to confidential information about the lab explosion, and then he has the absolute balls to tell him “Bill Hawks is being held in the future” and that’s IT. No explanation, nothing else, just THAT, and then he LEAVES, after he’d promised to share every last detail with him. I don’t blame Chelmey at all for tailing them and barging in to get information himself, like damn Hershel, why so savage sometimes in not a good way

which brings me to Ranting About Flora’s Treatment, Part 3: The Finale. Y’all I literally cannot even BEGIN to describe how much the way Hershel and Luke treat Flora in UF specifically makes me seethe..... It was already bad in DB, no doubt, but in this game they are straight-up rude to her, mostly Hershel, for absolutely no reason, and I CANNOT fathom why. He constantly makes the excuse that he’s concerned for her safety, and that the places they’re going to are too dangerous for her, but it all exudes a level of thinly-veiled annoyance, even confusion as to why Flora is so upset that they never bring her along and wants to go with them at all... almost like her “frail” feminine appearance (which isn’t helped by how the games make her feel sick or dizzy or tired multiple times), compared to someone like Emmy who could fight and has more masculine traits, means she’s less capable in Hershel’s mind, which, like, even if it’s unconscious on his part... how about no?? I could accept being worried about her, even if I’m still frustrated at her being left behind, and her constant kidnapping (which isn’t Hershel’s fault, even if he probablyyy could do a better job both times at protecting her), but I CANNOT excuse how short and dismissive Hershel is with her in this damn game; it honestly borders on ooc to me for him, I don’t know what the writers were thinking; do they just hate Flora that freaking much??? He treats her like a burden the entire time, apologizes to people for her, acts irritated at having to accommodate for her, when poor Flora just wants to spend time with him and feel like an equal to him and Luke. Meanwhile Clive of all people is the first one to treat her with kindness and respect and pleasure to see her when they first meet, like when Luke bitches about Flora being excited to see the river and not taking things seriously and Clive tells him to go easy on her (Clive, the one who has been rushing them along this entire time himself). honestly can see why it’s so easy to ship them, when literally everyone else treats her like crap It’s SO depressing honestly. Flora asks them if they thought to wonder where her future self was, and Hershel is just like hhhhh we’re kinda busy thinking about... you know.... important things... sorry not sorry....... like BITCH I WILL STRANGLE YOU, BE NICER TO YOUR DAUGHTER!!! Luke at least is a kid, but Hershel??? there’s no excuse!!! Luke be like “damn I hope Becky doesn’t look down on us for leaving Flora behind... >.>” THEY KNOW. THEY KNOW IT’S NOT RIGHT BUT THEY DON’T CARE AND DO IT ANYWAY. I’M SO MAD

Beasly just gets... straight-up murdered yo... between him and Subject 3, what were they smoking when coming up with the animals in this game, jfc. Test subject animals?? that’s unnervingly dark, despite how glossed over it is and how hilarious Subject 3 is a;lksd

LUKE LOVES SHERLOCK HOLMES THIS IS NOT A DRILL. THE DGS CROSSOVER IS WAITING, LEVEL-5 AND CAPCOM. MAKE LUKE’S (AND MY) DREAMS A REALITY

the intentional zoom-in on Clive’s sinister face in front of the tower will never not amuse me, and baffle me as to why they drew attention to it lmaooo

And okay back to time travel bullshit shenanigans, WHY the fuck does Dimitri not pick up on why him not remembering about the pen is such a big deal as soon as Paul first brings it up?? bruh. bruh. aren’t you a fucking TIME TRAVEL SCIENTIST. WHY DO YOU NOT KNOW SUCH A BASIC CONCEPT THAT BREAKS YOUR WHOLE FACADE IN SECONDS. It’d be one thing if he just couldn’t provide the right answer, but no, he straight-up HAS NO IDEA WHY HE SHOULD HAVE TO KNOW ABOUT THE PEN. “HOW THE FUCK SHOULD I KNOW-” bruhhhh. Dimitri. my dude. i love you but you are actually so dumb sometimes, like holy shit (more on this later though)

Paul talking to Dimitri about his plan is really good; he has a “...” moment before telling him what he’s doing can’t be excused, like “oh shit let me jump on board, wait fuck i gotta stay in character, Layton is a wuss he would never agree to this god dammit Layton-”. jokes aside though, I’m honestly confused as to how much he actually knew before Dimitri’s exposition in the pagoda, and why exactly he goes along with helping Hershel stop him... and what Dimitri was thinking roping him into this. Because I can’t really figure out Paul’s motives here and how they changed, if they did at all. The only information we get about how he first became involved is that Dimitri was paying him a lot of money to get Hershel to the pagoda and to him - he knows that “future London” isn’t real, he knows Future Layton isn’t real, so the extent of his knowledge seems to be that “this man wants to screw Layton over somehow and is giving me $$$ to get it done; there’s no downside here, never mind this suspicious as fuck fake London and all these people that shouldn’t be here”, but then Hershel gave him more information, probably that Claire was involved in what Dimitri was doing, and his concerns about a traitor being involved if he had already begun to suspect Clive by that point, and then he suddenly decided to turn against Dimitri? Even though you’d think saving Claire would be a reason for him to want to help him...? Or did he plan to turn against him from the very start, and wanted Hershel to come because he knew he could stop all this (part of his character development)? The latter is the most likely, though I still don’t entirely understand or maybe I’m just having a brain fart, that’s very likely too. And Dimitri on the other hand, did he know that Paul liked Claire too and would want to save her (and maybe about his salt for Hershel too), and that’s why he got his help? That makes more sense... but also doesn’t, cause as I said it seems like Paul didn’t know Claire was involved until Hershel told him and then Dimitri told everyone at the pagoda, so maybe he literally just said “here’s some money, help me fuck over Layton, not telling how” and just trusted in him that much, even though Paul is an evil genius who could and does put a stop to all his plans with his machines... once again, Dimitri looking dumb....

Clive, in the most deadpan voice ever at the top of the pagoda: oh no, the prime minister is in danger, someone help him

Flora as they’re escaping the tower: “professor no please take me with you instead of future Luke” Hershel: *ignores her feelings and makes a decision for her yet again* Clive: “shhh don’t worry Flora; i know i’m going to kidnap you in like an hour but i’m just trying to rescue you from these insensitive jerks. not Don Paolo though; he’s a gentleman.”

It’s interesting to me that Luke and Hershel keep acting as if Future Luke and future London are legit even after Future Layton has been revealed to be a fake. Hershel at least probably knows none of it is real by now, even if he hasn’t exactly figured out Clive’s role in everything yet, and is just not revealing his knowledge for now, but Luke is still rolling with it... wonder what’s going through his mind by this point. again, it frustrates me that Luke really has no emotional reaction to anything in UF, aside from the statue and his worries about leaving Hershel soon and how that in particular will affect their relationship

I also wonder what Clive is thinking by this point. Now that the Future Layton jig is up, what kind of story is he going with now? We never find out because Hershel reveals everything completely the next time Clive joins up with them again, but in the (unreasonable) case that he hadn’t, would Clive have just acted like he didn’t know that Alain Stahngun was actually someone named Dimitri, who was actually pretending to be Layton, and that the real Layton was somewhere else out there that they needed to find? I don’t know WHY I’m so interested in details like these that don’t matter at all in the long run a;lksdfklfd, but I am... he tells Flora to continue the “investigation” without him, so clearly he still had something in mind, and didn’t expect Hershel to out him quite so soon after that even if deep down he wanted it

Chelmey really cares for Barton and it’s actually so sweet, oml :’)

I didn’t really praise Paul’s character development in this game enough before, but I really do love it, even if I don’t quite understand the circumstances that started it. It’s not something I would have expected with how he’s presented in CV and DB, but it’s very nice to see this be the culmination of his character, and it’s kinda sad that it feels a bit more natural than Descole’s sudden shift in backstory/character between ED and MM/AL... It’s very funny and good to see him and Luke bicker at each other, and how he seems to have a soft spot for Flora... it’s all cute. I just wish there’d been a bit more time for him to talk to them, but that’s what fanfic is for

Don’t make me have to see Hershel beaten up in the street :’(

The sprite of Dimitri standing in the bar is incredibly hot.... damn why are all the older male characters my type >.>

Alright but it’s about time I finally talk about Dimitri without dissing him for being stupid sometimes and say that in short, I love him. He might even be my favorite new character in UF, even more than Clive; I don’t know if it’s just the Liam O’Brian Tragic Sexy Tired Villain effect or what (nah let’s be real, that’s a huge part of it lmao), but he’s fantastic and utterly breaks my heart, in a much more understated way than how the game shoves Clive’s angst in your face, but his tragedy is nonetheless impossible to ignore. The flashback with young Dimitri is my favorite scene in the entire game, it is devastating and feels so cinematic, so raw and painful, and I’m glad they animated that part because it humanizes him so much more. Claire was his everything, he loved her so much, but it is so obvious to me (and to a lot of the fandom too, I think) that his love was entirely selfless - he might have been a little sad, but he was still mostly content letting Hershel have her, and when it comes to after her death, Dimitri would have been absolutely happy not being able to have her if he managed to save her life; he just wanted her to live. He was in love with her, yes, but he also loved her, as a friend, as a scientist, as a person whose time was cut far too short for entirely selfish and unnecessary reasons, and the majority of his anger and bitterness and drive came from a desire to fix such an injustice - to save an innocent person’s life. And the saddest part of him doing all this and trying to sustain Claire’s existence in the present once he finds her, if you go with the closed loop time travel theory, is that Dimitri should already know it’s impossible for him to succeed in this as long as he remembers finding her body in the past - him succeeding would create a paradox, thus, he can’t save her. But he’s so deep in his despair and obsession and insistence on preserving her life that I don’t think he ever stops to think about this - or he does, but refuses to acknowledge it. I’m sure he was incredibly sweet and kind and soft in the past, with her, and with his passion, and it’s heartbreaking to see how broken he is now, how miserable and tired he is, how much everything changed him. And wanting to get back at someone like Bill, who had it all to begin with and then carelessly used them to gain even more, well, I don’t blame him for that. >_> Not to mention his relationship with Clive, which is all kinds of fascinating to think about: the most chaotic, dysfunctional mess of a half-business partnership half-father/son relationship there is, ahaha... Both of them are unhealthy to the extreme in different ways, but with how much time they spent together, it’s inevitable they had vulnerable moments around each other... Clive is the only other person Dimitri would have around during his research to possibly grow to care about, even if it was entirely unconsciously. Learning he was using him would, well, ruin their relationship even more than it was already messed up, but maybe he would visit Clive in prison at least once, assuming Hershel was. I just crave content for them, ugh. Dimitri just deserved so much better, he makes me so sad </3 and I honestly hate that we don’t get to see him say goodbye to Claire at the end before Hershel; sure it would have utterly killed me, but surely he deserved that much...

The utter, frankly amazing, stupidity of Flora’s kidnapping has been stated everywhere, we all know it, but just.... yeah. smh

Seeing the mobile fortress be like *war flashbacks to the Detragon* “Not This Shit Again” Hershel why tf you putting Luke in more danger AGAIN???

The car scenes with the mobile fortress are, at least to me, the funniest parts of the entire game, even better than the casino, oh my god they’re AMAZING. Luke screaming and flailing his arms while Hershel deadpan flings the car towards the fortress, all the bumps they hit riding across it later on, the car just FALLING and Bill almost falling out of it, and then the plane, all the while Hershel displays no more than mild frustration while everyone else is PANICKING... “a plane? This is an automobile!” ...iconic. top PL moments ever. Luke don’t you recall the time when Hershel built an entire mini plane out of a chainsaw and a barrel in ED, come on now

Onto Claire. Claire doesn’t get much screentime, but some of the moments she does have are very good; she’s one of the best and most fleshed-out female PL characters imo, and like a lot of things, I appreciate her a lot more after this replay than I did years ago... LayClaire is a cute ship and all, but I was never really obsessed with it; rather, I’m realizing now I’m more invested in what Claire has to offer by herself. I hate to use the term “strong female character” cause that sounds so cliche... but she really is strong. The entire part with her wanting to save Clive, their conversation, and her bringing him out... god it gets me, it really does. She’s known she’s going to die for ages, and at this point in the game she knows it could be any moment now, so she has no reason to try to keep herself safe; she’s doomed no matter what, so she might as well spend the last few minutes of her life saving another life, and not just anyone: someone who’s just killed countless people, who anyone else would see as insane, who doesn’t care for her, doesn’t care if he lives or dies - but Claire is compassionate enough that, despite everything, she fiercely believes he deserves to live. Because of her own guilt and sins she believes she bears, yes, but also simply because she believes he can still change, and doesn’t deserve to die, despite the HORRIBLE atrocity he just committed. She’s just that good a person. It’s no wonder she and Hershel loved each other and were made for each other; both of them are such kind, loving, selfless people who see the best in anyone no matter what. Perhaps she hoped and suspected that Hershel would look out for and care for Clive once he was in prison, so she wanted to make sure that could happen, even if she wouldn’t be around to ever see it.

sorry I just get really emotional about this part, about the entire mood and tone of Claire desperately trying to save this kid, and the way the camera focuses on the massive scale of the fortress and how it dwarfs them in size... It’s a really powerful and melancholic scene (just like Dimitri’s flashback scene; have I mentioned how much I adore the atmosphere and cinematic direction of this game? cause god I do) with the knowledge of her real identity and circumstances, the visuals and the music are so good, ugh i just have so many feels. mom Claire hurts me </3 she’s so good... Despite the fact that she dies, and so much of what everyone is doing is because of her death, her presence in the story is so strong, and it never feels like her only purpose is to die for everyone else’s development and that’s it (unlike... well, a lot of other pl females :’); she has her own things to do, she stops the fortress alongside Hershel, and literally saves the main antagonist’s life. Seriously I just adore the fact that she of all people is the one to rescue Clive in the end even though she wasn’t at all obligated to (although I’d be interested and cry over an AU where Hershel saves him instead; it honestly surprises me that he wasn’t going to until Claire said something...), because Clive is the only character (of the adults) who doesn’t have a direct relationship with Claire, but they’re still connected by the explosion, and so it makes for an interesting and terribly sad dynamic, even if they only have a few minutes with each other, for all the reasons I said earlier. Claire doesn’t think what he did was right, but she knows what she and the other scientists did wasn’t right either - and it’s too late for her now, but it’s not too late for him; she knows he has a kind heart, deep down, and that he needs help if he wants to redeem himself. She feels responsible for him, feels like she owes him that second chance, after indirectly taking his parents from him and causing him such misery and brokenness... She’s so brave and strong-willed to be able to do and admit all that she does; I just love her. It clearly kills her to leave Hershel, I don’t think she intended at first to ever let him know who she was (hence Celeste), but she’s not too upset in the end, because she (rightly) knows that he will be all right. ;; She’s so beautiful, too... wish we could have seen her interact with so many of the other characters </3

and so my favorite “insert Descole into the main trilogy” AU is where Descole intercepts Claire and makes some sort of body for her, like how everyone headcanons that for Aurora post-AL. (or/also just mobile fortress vs. Descole robots, that’s cool too lol)

And finally, Clive, the infamous star of Unwound Future, thought I talked about him a bit already (and also in this post a few weeks ago). Clive is probably the PL series’ best written villain Anton excluded, I absolutely love him, like everyone does. Nothing really about him hasn’t been done before elsewhere, but that’s not a bad thing; when I was younger and first played the game I really only paid attention to his sympathetic side, but now I’ve also grown an appreciation and fondness for that kind of unabashedly awful, manic, evil insanity a villain like him has, it’s just SO entertaining to watch. If PL was a more mature/higher rated series I’d love to see his chaotic crazed energy played up even more, just to really hammer in how messed up he is, ahaha, but of course that would make it harder to sympathize with him..... and unfortunately, it already is kind of hard, because.... shit, the number of people he must have killed? It’s a LOT. A FUCKTON. The level of sympathy the game gives Clive and the way it presents him at the end is not at ALL relative to the astronomical amount of people that had to have been squashed to death by his machine, to the point that it honestly makes me uncomfortable, and I try to just retcon that in my head, as hard as it is to imagine a scenario where that thing could have come up to London and not hit any houses, because like..... There’s no coming back from that. He knew exactly what he was doing, madness or not, and I honestly just... don’t want him to be such a mass murderer. Maybe it’s wrong to ignore it, but the game wants me to feel sorry for him and see his potential for redemption, and his relationship with Hershel is so good... dammit game, why’d you have to show those houses being crushed. Ugh. Because Clive is so compelling as someone who feels betrayed by people in power, who desires revenge not only for himself but for all the people who suffered just like he has that he says he bore witness to as a reporter; it’s a very relatable position and a good story, for his well-meaning intentions to be skewed and lost in the midst of his rage and despair and hatred and insanity, where his very valid point of “hey people in government are fucked up and don’t give a shit about us and that needs to change” gets turned into “they all need to die even if the very innocent people I want to save get hurt by this as well”, and I really wish that whole angle of it had been played up a bit more, and there had been more of an opportunity for Hershel to reason with him and argue that in the midst of his blind need for revenge, he’s become even worse than the people who need justice handed to them (cue some Descole allusionssss). He wouldn’t have to win him over, Clive is already too deep by that point despite how much he wanted to be stopped, but just having more of that than just what happens in the surveillance room would have been sooooooo good, I love that conversation. It would have made Clive even better and really drive home that he’s 1) kinda right about some things and wants better for people 2) still very fucking wrong and selfish at the same time and has taken it all way too far 3) very fucked up and broken. Not that the third point isn’t already abundantly clear, but... yeah. It would have given him even more depth, made him more sympathetic, and helped juuust a little to offset how much the game handwaves his mass murders... just a little... One of my favorite Clive scenes though is when the fortress is breaking down and he’s still there, desperately trying to save it, still in denial about the fact that all his plans have failed and that everything he’s done (and himself) is about to go up in flames; I know everyone loves making fun of him and that that scene is pretty memeable (he does get bodied so much in the game, lmaooo), but it makes him look so vulnerable, all alone in there by himself, like a child, which is what he really is, deep down: he never truly wanted to do something so abhorrent and evil, but his emotions and mind spiraled so badly out of control and it led him to such a dark, horrible place, where he couldn’t stop himself, no matter how much he wanted to, and in the end all he can do is watch helplessly as the reality of what he’s done and his unwound future all comes crashing down in front of him, never to be salvaged. And he believes wholeheartedly that he is going to die, that he deserves to (this is my favorite Clive scene; he’s so hurt and resigned, the voice acting kills me ugh), he doesn’t understand at all why Claire wants to save him, especially if he knows she’s one of the scientists (as his line of “why are you of all people helping me” implies), because he always thought none of them ever cared about him and people he saw as like him, thought everyone was like Bill Hawks, but Claire still cared enough to want to save his life, even though she was one of the people he was actively targeting with his revenge... I wonder how he would have felt at the time if he had known about her situation and that she was dying. </3 I just want so many good things for him, as so much of the fandom does. He’s so messed up but that’s what makes him so interesting, and his potential relationship with Hershel that the ending of the game suggests could happen is so touching and lovely and uplifting, one of my favorite kinds of relationships in fiction: Clive’s issues would persist for so long, for forever, really, but Hershel would support him and help him heal, and be there for him always, no matter how much Clive would feel like he didn’t deserve it. I eat this dynamic up, I really do, every single time I encounter it in a story, and it’s made even better by the fact that as I’ve said, Hershel has so much in common with Clive, and so they would get along very well for that reason, and Clive could unknowingly help Hershel just as much Hershel tries to help him. They’re so good for each other. Add Luke too, and Flora, and Desmond...! just ahhhhh........ there’s so much goodness. Clive you absolute glorious, fucked-up mess of a character, I love you. :’) and I love fic writers who explore facets of his personality and write about him. He’s only in one game, and there’s still a few hiccups, as I said, yet he’s handled far better than Descole or Randall in my opinion (though I love them too)... just an amazing fucking villain, and character. I wish UF could have gone deeper with him than it did, but even so, the possibilities with Clive are endless. I love him, so much ;;

and some of the themes of the plot in this game, uhh, hit a little close to home in good ole’ 2020/21 time we live in? :’) #FuckBillHawks

Hershel saying goodbye to Claire.... god. One of the top scenes in the entire series, probably the #1 most iconic I’d even go so far as to say. I don’t even really ship LayClaire, but there’s an indescribable emotion that finale gives me... it’s just breathtaking, in the most gutwrenching, nostalgic, beautiful way. I still maintain that Diabolical Box’s ending is sadder than this one, for a multitude of reasons, just comparing the stories and situations the characters are in, but I 100% don’t blame people for bawling at this scene more than any other, just because of the way it’s done yes I know I won’t shut up about the cinematography; the lighting, the camera angles, the pacing of it, Hershel’s fucking kicked puppy faces, the dialogue oh god the dialogue; it ALL hits like a TRUCK and comes together beautifully. At this point in his life Hershel has been through so much loss, so much so that it is unbearable - when he cries that he doesn’t want to say goodbye again, that he can’t say goodbye again, that he refuses to, nothing in the world is more true: this man has been through too much, and he’s hit his breaking point. even if you don’t have the prequels in mind when watching this, as most people don’t/didn’t the first time through, the overwhelming sense of burden and loss Hershel is feeling is so palpable, so painful - you get the sense that this isn’t just about Claire; Hershel has never shown emotion like this before up to this point, so for him to finally break down like this... it speaks volumes. After so many years of holding everything in, he finally can’t take it anymore, and basically stabbing me in the fucking chest would hurt less </3 I complain about Hershel never showing emotion like this (never crying) in the prequels whenever he’s hit with an equally horrible bombshell, and I still feel that way, but at the same time a part of me is also glad that’s the case, because it makes the very last (two) scenes in the entire series hit so much harder, knowing that he finally loses his composure after dealing with so much. As the titular character of the series, Hershel’s development is very understated and subtle, so it’s all the more meaningful when he actually snaps, because it makes him feel so much more real and human than he ever is the rest of the time, when he maintains his facade of being a perfectly composed, calm, and together gentleman; this scene finally say that, no, Hershel is a person, and he is broken in a lot of ways, because some puzzles you just can’t solve no matter how hard you try, and it’s so sad. And this sad tone of loss and longing permeates the entire cutscene; the way the title is dropped in Claire’s dialogue (both versions equally haunting imo), and Hershel taking off his hat for the first time ever, and the pan up and transition back to show the falling snow as “Time Travel”, my favorite instrumental in the series, kicks in... y’all there is no other feeling in the world like the feeling that elicits, there really isn’t ಥ⌣ಥ ❤️💔 the only thing that might even come close to it is the ending of Azran Legacy with Surely Someday, simply because it was the ending of the series, but the ending of Unwound Future hits me harder knowing it’s the end of the timeline, and with everything else in hindsight. And then an unknown amount of time later, even with Luke gone and Hershel only having Flora there with him anymore unless we headcanon DESMOND COMES BACK BECAUSE OF COURSE HE DID RIGHT, Hershel is still no longer wearing his hat, to show that he’s finally started to heal from his pain, and accepted the loss(es), because throughout all of UF Hershel had never really gotten over Claire’s death no matter how much he tried to pretend like he had, but you don’t realize that until you see the ending, until he got one final chance to see her. I just... ugh I love it so much, so much. It means so much, for Hershel and for the series, and that’s why it makes me cry (and don’t even get me sTARTED on Luke’s goodybe, and how upsetting yet beautiful THAT is. yes, Luke isn’t a gentleman yet, and Hershel finally learns that maybe he doesn’t always have to be one, either :’’’’’’)

Unwound Future is a masterpiece. Diabolical Box has my favorite characters and story for the new characters, and favorite settings, personally, but Unwound Future is such top-tier storytelling and writing; it feels so epic and sweeping and (here i go again) cinematic, it’s so polished and everything flows so well, the pacing is wonderful, everything ties up so perfectly and there’s very little I would change Flora bitching aside and practically nothing that feels like filler, even though some of it technically is. The tone stays consistent and they really push the boundaries of how serious and heavy these games can be, and it works, and doesn’t feel silly or glossed over or too unrealistic or too heavyhanded like some of the other games are at times; the plot twists/reveals feel the least absurd and the most grounded in reality, despite still being wild, and it focuses on some really relevant stuff and themes (again, it feels really grounded and raw, and the least fantastical, which isn’t a bad thing for the other games/movie per se, but being more realistic works in this one’s favor. No one is going to have their family separated and murdered by a criminal secret organization working to unearth ancient advanced civilized ruins, or lose years of their life and memories in said ancient ruins, or have their life ruined in an eternal unaging state from hallucinogenic gas, but being screwed over by people in government who will do anything to make sure they never have to face consequences? now that’s a mood). It’s just a really fucking good game, by far the best Professor Layton game, and I’ll always stand by that, despite preferring DB just a bit more cause it hits more of my personal tastes (DB is still very good too though, don’t get me wrong), and it’s also enhanced even more by the prequels, though it stands perfectly on its own. The perfect culmination of Hershel’s character arc, and the absolute high point of the series. It’s one of the ones I keep coming back to the most, just because it has so much to offer; as someone who is absolutely enamored with near-perfect stories of this caliber, I couldn’t ask for more. ❤️

#professor layton #professor layton spoilers #meta #who wants to read 8k words about a 12 year old game: no one #who's still gonna post it: this bitch #i actually got emotional near the end writing hjklskdfkfldlksk watching the end of uf always hurts :' )#me: 'db is my favorite' also me: 'rants and cries about uf for almost double the length of the db rant'#It's About The Potential.jpg #i didn't even talk about the puzzles much at all lmaooooo none of them really stood out to me #just........ story........ so good...... emotions go brrrr #i need ALL the dimitri fanfic tbh #and dimitri and clive #and CLAIRE and clive #and clive and hershel ofc #catch me being obsessed with time travel in a game where 99% of it isn't time travel ahjsdffkldskkdfl #It Could Be That Deep.jpg #need to write my other uf ideas.... and then get to the prequels already #but i also wanna replay pl vs aa... and the aa trilogy...... so much to doooooo

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sweaterinvested · 5 years

Text

— up, up, and away:;

SETTING / OUTSIDE THE PRIMRODIAL AUTO CLUB AND MC CLUB HOUSE. EVENT / PRIMORDIAL MOTORCYCLE CLUB 40TH ANNIVERSARY PARTY. TRIGGER WARNINGS / GUN VIOLENCE, BLOOD, INJURY, DEATH.

Coming to the Primordial anniversary party wasn’t his brightest idea. Desmond is well aware of that. But Sutton had invited him, and he knew that despite the thin ice he was treading on with the gang that there would be people there he cared about. And of course...he didn’t want to say no to Sutton after she’d invited him— especially when his best friend had seemed so down as of late. So he was here for moral support, and perhaps there was the smallest kernel in his still bruised ribs that said he was here to simply prove that he wouldn’t be bullied into submission. But he wasn’t here to listen to whispers and spy and snoop today. No, he’d decided he would just be Desmond, the high-school English teacher, and get some of that glorious potato salad he’d heard so much about. At some point he’d meandered into the outside area of the party to the front of the shop, getting some fresh air and the like.

Being a teacher in such a small town came with its own hazards, one of which being that he couldn’t go much of anywhere without running into a student, a parent, or a coworker. Today seemed to be a day for the first two of those roles, and it hadn’t taken long for him to run find AJ and his little sister, Iris. AJ had started off as, for lack of a better word, a nuisance. But Desmond knew that beneath the acting out, there must be a reason for it. So instead of writing him off as mini-Anthony, he’d taken the time to know AJ, and encourage him in his writing. In truth, the boy wasn’t bad at English, especially when it came to stroy-telling. In the end...he liked to think he and AJ had reached an understanding of one another, and were as close to friends as a teacher and student could get.

It had been the reason Desmond had brought along a gift for AJ to this shindig for the boy’s birthday, grinning as he passed it along to the student he considered a success, the two of them bathed in smiles together before things shifted. Just a few moments later...something changed. A loud crashing sound, screams erupting from a nearby crowd, and a chill went down Desmond’s spine. Then he was hit, a solid mass coming into contact with the back of his head. Something warm trickled down his hairline, and he put a hand to the sticky substance on his skull to pull it away...ruby red.

A little laugh erupted from him as he recognized the insides of a pie from the dessert table, and he turned to find the culprit. A young girl stood there wide-eyed, realizing her vital mistake “I wasn’t aiming for you!” she blurted out, trying to claim her innocence. “AJ was there, and then you walked in front of him!” Apparently, a food fight had broken out when he wasn’t looking. He should have just shrugged it off, and given the girl a free pass. But everything had been so heavy lately, and those few moments of lightness were ones he wanted to hang onto for as long as he could. So instead of grinning and saying ‘no problem’, he scooped up a pig in a blanket from his plate and tossed it her direction. His laugh came when he hit his target, and the girl’s stunned features slowly spread into a smile of her own. Her expression changed again, and a nearly blood curdling scream was ripped from her lips. So extreme was it that Desmond flinched, a frown coming over him. That was a bit dramatic of a reaction, wasn’t it?

Everything that happened next came incredibly fast. The screams of joy coming from those in the food fight around him...moved, morphed into something much more sinister like the one that had come from the girl who’d been his target. And then the gunshots rang out, and the sound of the first one was like a punch to his gut. Pop! It only took a moment for the air to be filled with a downpour of the bullets, coming in quick succession. Pop! Pop! Pop! There wasn’t any time to think before Desmond was grabbing AJ by the collar to pull him to the ground, trying to make the boy less of a target. Next was Iris— who he brought down to the dirt and grass with him as well. Chaos was quick to come, robbing the happy destivity of its joy in only seconds, and groans of pain and terror pervaded the air. Desmond didn’t even bother to wonder exactly who was shooting. All that mattered was that danger and death were here to knock- no kick in the door of the security they’d been nestled in.

Instinct kicked in, the deep-seated need he’d always felt to protect flashing through him as he looked for a place of cover, and adrenaline rushed through him. He had to get Iris and AJ out of here. A thickening in the trees caught his eye, as well as a large boulder that could hopefully create a shield for them. Desmond dared to peek his head up from the ground, trying to find a lull in the gunfire for him to make a break for it along with the kids. Finally their opportunity came, and he was unceremoniously picking the pair back up with him, directing AJ towards the trees with shouted words. He didn’t bother taking chances with Iris, scooping the girl into his arms to run with her to the treeline. By all means— Desmond shouldn’t have been able to do it, not in the state Andy had left him after the gas station run in. But adrenaline was a wonderful thing, dulling the pain of his bruised ribs to be barely noticeable as her ran with Iris and AJ.

Finally they reached the place of safety, and Desmond put Iris to the ground once more, looking AJ in the eye, a confidence and fierceness there that gripped the teacher in times such as these. “Stay here. Look after your sister. Don’t move, and cover your heads.” Then Desmond was gone once more, diving back into the sound of terror and panic. The smell of blood had already seeped into the air, so thick that he swore he could almost taste it when he breathed. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation where he wondered whether or not he should be helping the gangs, rushing to save the people that he’d worked so hard to fix. There was no thought at all as he rushed back and forth between the safety of the trees, and the people still floundering about the scene of what was once a party, now turned into a murder field. People were at risk, and Desmond helped people. It was as simple as that.

It wasn’t long before he had blood streaks painting his clothes, most of it not belonging to him, but rather the people he’d been helping. There had been one who’d stopped moving as he dragged them, the air no longer finding their lungs as they’d died in his grasp. There was no time to linger, though. Not now. Move on, and save those you can. But he had caught a few scrapes along the way, the sting of them fading with what should be the pain of his ribs. Still- the lines of red along his arms and face were angry and insistent as he went from place to place, person to person, dragging, and carrying, and guiding to safety. The process seemed endless, as if he was caught in a long tunnel running towards a light that was never getting closer, entirely unattainable. And yet he kept on sprinting because that’s all he knew how to do. He had never known when to stop, never known how to hold back when it came to things like this. That much was obvious with so many things in his life.

First was Lettie. First was always Lettie in his mind— often forgetting to think of much else these days other than how he most likely had lost something so valuable in his life due to his inability to just let things be. Next was Andy. Desmond couldn’t just shut up and take a threat, couldn’t stop the continued words and such from slipping through his lips that had earned him the stench of gasoline and aching ribs. There were too many examples in his life to count, reaching back as far as he could possibly remember. The only thing that had ever stopped him was when he was made to stop, when his body quite literally couldn’t keep going, or his mind was scrambled to bits.

And it seemed that another instance such as that was now. Again he felt something hit him, though this time it was in his thigh. Once more his hand went to inspect whatever it was that had found him, and there’s a small sense of deja vu as that hand came away sticky and red. Shot. He’d been shot. There was a moment of almost wonder as he paused for a second, nearly unable to believe that this is what fate had in store for him. This pain he feels. The burning of the bullet searing into his flesh as more and more blood gushes from the wound in his leg. Isn’t there some important artery in his thigh? One that’s nearly always fatal if hit? But he can’t bring himself to worry about it as he limps forward on his crippled leg, looking for another person to help to safety.

Still, he refused to stop— to quit— to let something other than good and right win. However, he’s not left with much of a choice when his leg gave out on him in the heart of where the party had been in full swing, crumpling to the ground under the weight of himself. He moved to stand again. Determined not to let this get the better of him. He would crawl if he had to. But just before he can straighten himself, something struck across his head...hard. Hard enough for his vision to blink out of sight, and make him see spots. Suddenly the world is even fuzzier, and his line of thought goes garbled and nonsensical.

Why was he thinking about potato salad again when he can’t seem to figure out which way was up or down? This time he hit the ground without catching himself, not even realizing it’s rushing up to meet him until he was lying on it, face down. Everything was dark, and Desmond didn’t know if it was because his eyes were closed, or perhaps because he’s dying. Even if he’s not dying currently, he can’t imagine a passerby might turn him over to see if he’s alive or not. Why would someone try and help the English teacher who’s been snooping around far too much? If he doesn’t simply die from whatever’s happened to his head, surely he’ll bled out before anyone gives enough of a fuck to find him, to notice he’s gone. Ignored just like he was for the first half of his life.

Dying. He had thought of that more often than not as of late, mostly because of the rising tension of the clubs, and his meeting with Andy at the gas station. If he died here, at least it would be better than dying with Andy. Here he had done something, here he made a difference. And that was all he had wanted to do with the world. Make a difference. It was why he’d become a teacher in the first place, to teach the younger generation that they had the power to change everything if they wanted to, to make the world their own, and to form it better than their predecessors. Desmond had helped people today, helped AJ, and Iris, and plenty of other people he didn’t know the name of. He’d make a difference. If he died today..at least it wouldn’t be alone at a gas station, unable to fight back. He’d die a death worthy of a hero, having saved those that might not have saved themselves. And that was all he had ever wanted. The difference was made.

#desmond #self para #up up and away #violence tw #death tw #blood tw #gun tw #injury tw

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oldfashionedlawyerboy-blog · 5 years

Text

If you hate the taste of wine, why do you drink it ‘till you’re blind? & if you swear that there’s no truth, and who cares: How come you say it like you’re right?

NAME: Elijah Desmond Parker PET-NAMES: 'Slick’ and he’s not a fan of it, at all… AGE: 36 HEIGHT: 5'10″

OCCUPATION: Lawyer, recently went from a larger firm in the city to a much quieter office just at the edge of a small town… pay cut was unpleasant, and he sometimes misses the hustle & bustle, but he decided to stay close to family. EDUCATION: Spent way too long taking it all way too seriously but he DID manage to get that law degree so he could frame it up and finally get others to take his baby-face seriously…

Why are you scared to dream of God when it’s salvation that you want? You see stars that clear have been dead for years, but the idea just lives on.

Interests: Literature, Networking, Bourbon, Money… Longings: Acceptance; Knowledge; Success; Family; Belonging. Reality: Not what it seemed… Motive: Self-Discovery.

I’ve got no plans & too much time, I feel too restless to unwind. I’m always lost in thought as I walk a block to my favorite neon sign-

In His Heart: Memories of him and his mother, the books still packed in boxes that he’s yet to un-box, his new secretary’s young daughter who brings him flowers and swears she wants to marry him, the ghost of his father, the hope of this patchwork family coming together, HOPE in general…

She says these bars are filled with things that kill; by now, you probably should have learned… Did you forget your yellow bird? How could you forget your yellow bird?

BIO

While growing up, Elijah’s mother hardly looked at him for too long.

Especially as he became older: she never seemed to be able to bare the sight of him. She’d bleached his hair before he started elementary school, claiming he’d be such a darling blonde. He wore glasses for years after that, thick-rimmed things, despite having never once complained of poor eyesight- but she’d order he put them on before she’d ever even consider looking him in the face.

It was only them, was always only them…

But she loved him. He thought so, at least. He got whatever he wanted. She paid for him to go to the best schools, even sent him an allowance every month for expenses. He’d gone back to being a proud brunette, and abandoned the glasses when he was far enough away for her sensibilities. It was both a yearning for success, and- relief, for him to go out of state for college- she was able to write him letters without that twitch of her nose that came if their eyes caught.

Then she became ill. Devastatingly so. She insisted he shouldn’t come home, not until there was a break in classes, but by that time: she’d already been on her death bed. It was there, amidst her silken comforters, that she ordered he dig through her bottom dresser drawer. Inside was a box: he expected trinkets, jewelry, maybe even a hidden ring intended for a future lover… instead, he was confronted with letters, tucked away to the left and bound with string: HUNDREDS of them, faded, penned delicately. Money lined up the other side, large bills, all stacked and facing the same way.

“He loved you,” she explained, only hours before she took her final breath. “He loved you, and he didn’t even know you…”

He took her hand in his, and to his surprise: she actually stared him in the face. It felt awkward almost, a sort of maternal intimacy he’d never properly tasted before– “Who, Mother?”

Instead of ordering he put his glasses on, she pressed the pads of her thumbs to the corners of his eyes: “Your father, Darling… He loved you…”

This wasn’t the time for an interrogation. He shut that wooden box, sat it behind him, and reveled merely in her gaze- the attention she’d never given him before. “I love you, Mother.”

She died that evening. Elijah wept like a baby. While gathering her things, he again found that box, and began to thumb through the letters.

They were all from a Levi Jackson, and from the tone of the text, he came to believe they were never responded to– save for a couple, where this Levi had commented with appreciation: always the first letter sent to a new home; where he’d both show appreciation for the address, and mention that there would be more money to come…

Suddenly, all the questions that had plagued Elijah most his life at least had a source: this Levi was how he had been able to afford the nice home, the good schools, the pressed clothes. This Levi was the source of his allowances, of his mother’s fallen stares, of the subtle disdain she’d held for his natural appearance…

Elijah waited for years before finally going and looking for that Levi Jackson; after his schooling was completed, after he’d already begun making a name for himself at a prestigious firm– but he found he wasn’t satisfied with the life that’d been concocted for him…

He was alone. It had always only been him and his mother. And now, knowing there was something else, a part of him he didn’t know-

He quit his job, cashed out his inheritance, packed up that box of letters and bills, and hunted for the most recent return address…

When he did, he discovered he truly was an orphan, Levi had passed on years ago– but also found he wasn’t the last of his blood line… There, he found out he had a much younger half-sister: CAROLINE, and even a little brother (though, the tension between them was far from brotherly): DANIEL.

Caroline swore up and down that he looked exactly like their father. The resemblance convinced her to welcome him, while it left Daniel apparently suspicious.

The fact his siblings, at this point also without parents, were only left a derelict homestead while he’s so accustomed to the niceties that come with financial privilege… well, it plucked just a few too many more of those heart strings just wrong. Not only did he not have anywhere to go back to, really, but now that he’d found actual family, even if they still had their hesitancy with him…

Elijah didn’t want to leave.

So, for now, he’s rented out a small apartment in town– the farm life isn’t quite his forte (honestly, some of those damned animals leave him shaking in his loafers) and the awkwardness with his sibling made him a better guest than roommate: but that was fine.

He thinks he’s close. To finding it. Or, better: himself. What IT is, though, or… who HE is… Elijah’s still working to find out.

Matthew 12:10-11 The disciples asked Him, “Why then do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?” Jesus replied, “Elijah does indeed come, and he will restore all things.”

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damnedcrybaby · 5 years

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Elijah 'City-Slicker’ Parker

[ new, work in progress, LOW interaction for now, OC to add to my mess ] Appears In: 1 / 2

If you hate the taste of wine, why do you drink it ‘till you’re blind? & if you swear that there’s no truth, and who cares: How come you say it like you’re right?

NAME: Elijah Desmond Parker PET-NAMES: 'Slick’ and he’s not a fan of it, at all... AGE: 36 HEIGHT: 5'10″

OCCUPATION: Lawyer, recently went from a larger firm in the city to a much quieter office just at the edge of a small town... pay cut was unpleasant, and he sometimes misses the hustle & bustle, but he decided to stay close to family. EDUCATION: Spent way too long taking it all way too seriously but he DID manage to get that law degree so he could frame it up and finally get others to take his baby-face seriously...

Why are you scared to dream of God when it’s salvation that you want? You see stars that clear have been dead for years, but the idea just lives on.

Interests: Literature, Networking, Bourbon, Money... Longings: Acceptance; Knowledge; Success; Family; Belonging. Reality: Not what it seemed... Motive: Self-Discovery.

I’ve got no plans & too much time, I feel too restless to unwind. I’m always lost in thought as I walk a block to my favorite neon sign-

She says these bars are filled with things that kill; by now, you probably should have learned... Did you forget your yellow bird? How could you forget your yellow bird?

BIO

While growing up, Elijah’s mother hardly looked at him for too long.

It was only them, was always only them…

“He loved you,” she explained, only hours before she took her final breath. “He loved you, and he didn’t even know you…”

He took her hand in his, and to his surprise: she actually stared him in the face. It felt awkward almost, a sort of maternal intimacy he’d never properly tasted before– “Who, Mother?”

Instead of ordering he put his glasses on, she pressed the pads of her thumbs to the corners of his eyes: “Your father, Darling… He loved you…”

This wasn’t the time for an interrogation. He shut that wooden box, sat it behind him, and reveled merely in her gaze- the attention she’d never given him before. “I love you, Mother.”

She died that evening. Elijah wept like a baby. While gathering her things, he again found that box, and began to thumb through the letters.

Elijah waited for years before finally going and looking for that Levi Jackson; after his schooling was completed, after he’d already begun making a name for himself at a prestigious firm-- but he found he wasn’t satisfied with the life that’d been concocted for him...

He was alone. It had always only been him and his mother. And now, knowing there was something else, a part of him he didn’t know-

He quit his job, cashed out his inheritance, packed up that box of letters and bills, and hunted for the most recent return address...

When he did, he discovered he truly was an orphan, Levi had passed on years ago-- but also found he wasn’t the last of his blood line... There, he found out he had a much younger half-sister: CAROLINE, and even a little brother (though, the tension between them was far from brotherly): DANIEL.

Caroline swore up and down that he looked exactly like their father. The resemblance convinced her to welcome him, while it left Daniel apparently suspicious.

The fact his siblings, at this point also without parents, were only left a derelict homestead while he’s so accustomed to the niceties that come with financial privilege... well, it plucked just a few too many more of those heart strings just wrong. Not only did he not have anywhere to go back to, really, but now that he’d found actual family, even if they still had their hesitancy with him...

Elijah didn’t want to leave.

So, for now, he’s rented out a small apartment in town-- the farm life isn’t quite his forte (honestly, some of those damned animals leave him shaking in his loafers) and the awkwardness with his sibling made him a better guest than roommate: but that was fine.

He thinks he’s close. To finding it. Or, better: himself. What IT is, though, or... who HE is... Elijah’s still working to find out.

Matthew 12:10-11 The disciples asked Him, “Why then do the scribes say that Elijah must come first?” Jesus replied, “Elijah does indeed come, and he will restore all things.”

#~i'm not... sure... what i'm doing with him or how active he's going to be i just... wanted him... here........#~FUN FACT: HE'S SCARED OF CHICKENS IT'S CANON IT'S IN THE FIRST PART OF THE STORY I ALREADY WROTE #~elijah; about #~elijah; ism #~elijah; aesthetic #~face claim: alain delon #~he a sad boy but he's a smart sad boy which is probably even worse...

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louismirage · 6 years

Text

And My Heart Is A Hollow Plain~ XV

Its the 1600s and all Louis wants is the freedom he knows he will never taste again.

He knew happiness, knew a good life and love. Had dreams and reasons to see the good in people, to expect good things from life.

Forced into a marriage he will never get out of, all he’s looking for is a breath of life. Maybe something or someone to come save him from the hell he knows.

I am so so sorry for taking forever to post this, but I just finished it just now! This is the last chapter before the epilogue so I hope you guys like it. Enjoy!!

~XV

A week after the twins were born, Harry didn’t expect to see his sister Gemma walk through the door. She was holding her husband’s hand and a woman who Harry assumed was the nanny was following behind holding a baby boy in her arms. While Harry was sure Gemma was fine with letting someone else take care of her son while she attended to her duties, he knew it wasn’t going to be like that for Louis.

His lovely husband refused to let anybody else that wasn’t himself or Harry take care of their babies. He spent all day with them and it was like a dream for Harry. He never thought he would have his own family.

“Alexandre, Gemma.” Harry greeted them. “It’s good to see you.”

“Harry, it’s good to see you too. How are you? How’s your husband and your children?” The man asked with a thick French accent. He was a tall brown-eyed man with blond hair down to his shoulders. Harry considered him to be handsome, but would never be comparable to his husband’s beauty.

“They’re doing wonderful.” Harry smiled. Everytime he talked about them, his heart soared with love.

“I cannot wait to meet them.” Gemma smiled as she wrapped her arms around her younger brother.

“And I cannot wait for you to meet them. They’re my everything, Gemma.”

“I can tell. Your eyes sparkle when you talk of them. Father and mother?” She kissed his cheek then held his hands in hers.

“They’re in their bedroom. They did not tell me you were coming. It was a great surprise.”

“They do not know either. I wanted to surprise you.” Gemma said, then looked at the woman holding the small child in her arms, opening her own gently taking her firstborn. “And this is Noé.”

“May I?” Harry asked.

Gemma nodded and let the future king hold her child. Alexandre wrapped his arm around Gemma’s waist, watching his firstborn look at his uncle as he settled down comfortably in the man’s arms. It now came so naturally for Harry to hold a child, especially when he would hold his own children all the time. He and Louis would take afternoon walks with their babies and every passing day, Harry’s feelings for the blue eyed beauty only grew stronger. It was safe to say Harry couldn’t live without Louis. He slept peacefully at night when he was sure Louis felt the same way. He felt it every time Louis kissed him, every time Louis let him hold him and the way he would hold him too. As if Harry was his lifeline. Harry was so in love with him.

“I’m sure they will be delighted to see you three. They are finally going to meet their grandson.” Harry said.

“My Gemmaline!”

They looked up and saw their mother walking down the stairs with Louis, Lucy and the babies. Anne quickly gave her grandson Adam to Lucy then rushed to hug his daughter. Louis carried Elizabeth in his arms, being careful and making sure Lucy was being careful too as they walked down the stairs. Louis started feeling nervous out of nowhere when he was about to meet his husband’s sister for the very first time. He knew Harry had told her about him in the letters he had sent her, but it still scared him that she might not like him.

Now that all three of them were together, Louis could see the similarities between the three of them. They both looked like their mother. Louis smiled at the way Anne was holding her daughter then when she finally got to meet and hold her grandson who was only a few months older than his children.

“Gemma, Alexandre, this is Louis, my queen.” Harry wrapped his arm around Louis’ waist, bringing him closer to him and his sister. “Lou, this is my sister Gemma and her husband Alexandre.” He introduced them, seeing Louis nodding once and shyly smiling at them.

“You are even more beautiful in person. Brother did not do you any justice when he described you in one of his letters.” Gemma grabbed his hand. “May I?” She opened her arms, asking for a hug, and smiled when Louis hugged her.

“Gemma is right.” Louis heard Alexandre say, seeing him squeezing Harry’s shoulder.

Gemma let go then looked down at the baby Louis was holding, asking for permission to hold her. Louis nodded and gently placed his daughter in Gemma’s arms then his son, knowing Gemma wasn’t going to drop them. Louis could see how happy Anne was now that all her family was there, and smiled even brighter when Desmond joined them.

“Alexandre.” Desmond greeted him then looked at his precious daughter and hugged her. ”Darling, what a beautiful surprise.” He hugged Gemma then kissed her cheeks.

“We wanted you and mother to meet our Noé. It is finally safe to travel long distances now that he is older.” Gemma smiled when Desmond took his oldest grandson in his arms.

“We would have traveled sooner, darling, but we had quite a lot of things going on here.” Des explained with a smile on his face. He looked at his newborn grandchildren with a proud smile, letting Harry and Louis know not to take it the wrong way.

“You must be tired!” Anne exclaimed. “Why don’t you go rest for a few hours then we can have dinner together. It will give the cook's time to make a special dinner for tonight.”

“Sounds lovely.” Alexandre returned her smile then looked at Harry and Louis. “It was lovely to meet you, Louis. Harry.” He smiled then grabbed his son from his grandfather’s arms.

Gemma gave the newborns back to their parents then grabbed her mother’s hand and let her walk with her to the bedroom Lucy had requested someone else to start getting ready. Harry looked down at his daughter then at Louis who was giving all his attention to their little Adam. Harry wanted to tell him how beautiful he looked with the rays of the sun caressing his hair, the strands changing to a lighter brown. He was just about to open his mouth, but his daughter’s cries interrupted him.

“She probably needs to be changed.” Louis said as he watched his husband trying to see if she smelled.

“I do not smell anything.” Harry wrinkled his nose, holding the baby up to get another whiff.

“We have to go see.” Louis chuckled at Harry’s antics.

“After you, my love.” Harry grinned, dimple and all.

Louis walked back to their bedroom, watching the way Harry was cooing at their daughter to get her to calm down. Harry was the best with their babies, having gotten used to fatherhood quite fast. Louis felt butterflies in his stomach every time he looked at Harry, and he felt so happy when Harry would give their babies all of his attention. It turns out Elizabeth was just fussy when the absorbing cloth covering her bottom was still dry. Louis felt bad for whoever had to wash them.

“We should probably pay more money to whoever washes their clothes.” Louis suggested as Harry made his way to the bed to lay down with Elizabeth. The prince happily took his son and heir when Louis laid the baby down on top of his chest.

“I’ll make sure she gets paid more, love.” Harry kissed Elizabeth’s little fist then the top of Adam’s head. “Come lay with me. I haven’t had the chance to hold you.”

“You did this morning.” Louis said, quickly making his way to his side of the bed. He picked up their daughter then laid down next to Harry, placing his head on the man’s chest and making sure his daughter was comfortable on top of his chest.

“But I want to hold you longer.” Harry said as he rubbed his son’s back.

Louis looked up at him and kissed his jaw. “And I want you to hold me too. As long as you want.”

“I will. Everyday for the rest of my life.” Harry looked down at Louis, reaching to kiss his forehead.

Louis bit his bottom lip trying to suppress a smile, but he couldn’t when Harry was looking at him that way he always did. It made Louis feel butterflies in his stomach and he didn’t know what to do with himself, always ending up losing his train of thought. If Louis had to do everything all over again to end up here where he was, with the man he was in love and their children, he would do it all over again. He wouldn’t hesitate.

“We should nap before dinner so we are well rested.” Harry suggested, just as the babies started whimpering.

“Sounds good, but after I feed them.” Louis sat up and started unbuttoning his shirt, knowing Harry was staring at him.

When he was ready, Harry helped him by placing the babies in his arms. They liked to eat at the same time and Louis was not going to deny them that. Louis looked down at them, smiling when Elizabeth opened her eyes only to close them seconds later. When they were done, they took a much needed nap, waking up just in time for dinner.

The next day the news had already spread all over London and nearby towns. The king would be hosting a banquet to celebrate the birth of his three grandchildren the next day. Then it would be followed by a celebration later that day where everybody in town was invited. During both events, the king would be introducing his children’s spouses and then their children.

Soon the castle and the whole town had been decorated to celebrate the arrival of the new heirs. The market and many other businesses had closed for the day to give chance for the commoners to get ready for the celebration. They were wearing their best clothes and mothers tried to keep their children from dirtying them when the celebration hadn’t even started yet.

That same day, Louis found himself dressed in his best clothes and sitting next to Harry at the long table filled with the finest people in England. Their meal consisted of roast lamb with roasted butternut squash and herby new potatoes. It was Louis’ favorite meal so far. He could see many of the guests staring at him as he ate, but he could care less when he could do whatever he wanted. He was the soon to be queen. He could see many of the jealous faces glaring daggers at him whenever Harry would feed him and encourage him to eat whatever he wanted.

When Dinner was over, Des slowly sat up at the head of the table and started giving a speech. He then introduced Gemma and her husband Alexandre and finally their son Noé who Des was now holding. He was the proud grandfather of the future king of France.

When it was finally time to introduce Louis and their children, Harry stood up and helped Louis up as well. Louis held Elizabeth while Harry had Adam in his hold. Both parents looked proud of their little blessings and the guests had never seen multiples born in the royal family, which meant those children were destined for greatness.

“I would like to introduce the future king and queen of England, my son and heir Harry and his consort Louis.” Des announced to his subjects with a smile on his face. “And their children. Our heir to the throne prince Adam Edward, and princess Anne Elizabeth Charlotte.” Des proudly introduced them just like he had introduced Gemma’s son.

The guests smiled and clapped, welcoming the new members of the family. After that was done, the celebration continued in the gardens of the castle where the town was celebrating. Harry and Louis stayed near the entrance, sitting in front of a table with their little ones in their arms. There was music playing and many people dancing in the middle of the garden. There were tables full of food and drinks for the guests as well as sweets especially made for the children. Louis still could not believe Des and Anne had done all of that to introduce his children.

“They love you and our children.” Harry told him, moving his chair closer to Louis’. He could see the small smile forming on his lips when he knew no one had ever told him that except for him.

“I know they do, Harry.” Louis told him, a warm smile on his face.

However, there was a part of him that was a bit sad. Harry always talked about how much the kingdom loved him and even his family, but Harry had never said the three words to him. Deep down it hurt Louis, though these feelings seemed silly in his head. Harry had shown him so much love over these past months that Louis shouldn’t have a doubt in his mind. But there he was doubting him despite everything Harry had done for him.

Out of the corner of his eye, Harry noticed that his lovely husband was frowning and it worried him. “Louis, my darling. What is wrong? I thought that would make you happy knowing that everyone loves you and wants you as their queen.”

“Of course it does.” Louis was quick to take his hands and reassure him.

“Then why do you frown?” He asked, concern echoing in his deep voice.

“Because, I don’t want to know if they love me or not, not when that is not important to me.” Louis confessed, his voice soft and gentle but honest. Then he took a deep breath and looked directly into Harry’s eyes, searching for the truth. “I want to know if you love me.”

Harry was speechless. Even though he had not said the words, he had thought that he had made it overwhelmingly clear. He wrapped his arms around Louis and brought him even closer. Then he raised his right hand and stroked his queen’s soft cheek. “Remember that day we posed for our first portrait together? When you were still pregnant with my heirs?” Harry asked him. “You looked so beautiful sitting there with sun shining perfectly on your face. Your eyes looked so blue that day and your hair looked like it was spun out of golden threads.”

“I remember,” Louis blushed. “You looked handsome too, my king.”

“That was the day I realized that I was falling in love with you.”

Louis’ breath hitched and his heart soared.

“By the time you agreed to marry me, I knew that I had found the person that I wanted to rule over all of England with.”

Harry tilted Louis head back, his lips brushing against his husbands. “I love you.”

Louis felt like his face was on fire when he heard Harry said those words, words that had been longing to hear. He leaned forward and kissed Harry, locking their lips together, showing him how much he loved him.

Louis pulled away, wanting to voice how much he loved Harry too. “I love you too. Always and forever.”

Harry smiled and hugged him tighter. ‘Even after death. No matter how many lives we live after we go, it will always be you.” He promised him, kissing him again when Louis’ eyes shined with tears.

~*~

Gemma and her family ended up spending three weeks with them, something that made Harry happy when his whole family was together. As the days passed, he had started doing more duties after his father had let him know it was time to learn how to handle everything. Harry was next in line to the throne, and he needed to be well prepared to be worthy of the crown.

After they were over by noon, he would sit down with Louis and their children out in the garden to have their newest portrait done. Both he and Louis had let out a relieved sigh when the artist had finally announced that he was finished. A few days later, their portrait was hanging on the wall in the main hall, next to the many others of Harry’s ancestors. They had on the biggest smiles, and they were brighter than the sun.

During August the days were hot and humid. Louis would spend them with their children outside, where he could be under the shade of the many trees they had. Sometimes a nice breeze would blow by to help cool them down, but it wasn’t enough. It was hell for Harry when he had to dress properly to attend to his duties. He found himself walking down the long corridor in the stable looking for his horse. He was so hot that he hoped the horses were outside and not in the hell they called stable. He turned the corner and stopped in his tracks at the same time Zayn and Liam pulled away from each other as if they had been burned.

“Harry!” Zayn exclaimed as he fixed his clothes.

“Your majesty.” Liam greeted him. His face was as red as a tomato and their hair was a mess.

“Call me Harry, Liam. No need for formalities.” Harry smiled.

“Did you need something?” Zayn asked him.

“I do.” Harry nodded. “Where is Niall? We have places to be and I need you three to accompany me.”

“I’ll look for him. He was with Lucy last time I saw him.” Liam excused himself then walked out of there as fast as he could.

When he was gone, Harry stared at Zayn. He smirked when Zayn blushed when he had never seen the man do that in all the years he had known him.

“Are you happy?” Harry asked.

“What?” Zayn gave him a confused look.

“Does he make you happy?” Harry asked again.

“We have only been … together for a few months.” Zayn answered, then smiled when he started thinking about him. “But I am happy. He makes me happy.”

“That’s what matters.” Harry squeezed his shoulder. “Lets go before it gets dark. Louis does not like it when I am out so late.”

“How is he doing? The babies?” Zayn asked him.

“Doing wonderful like always. You should visit more often.”

“I would, but I do not wish to intrude or interrupt.” Zayn shrugged.

“Zayn.” Harry stopped walking and looked at the man. “We grew up together, you and Niall are like my brothers. You are always welcome.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Zayn nodded with a smile on his face.

Soon enough they were on their way to visit a town nearby, where there were many people in need of help and a lot more hoping their Prince would help them come to an agreement on issues they had. Their stop was Doncaster, a town that brought many memories to Harry. He was going to meet the Earl, the man who had stripped Louis off of everything that was his. He would never say he had also taken everything from their children when that was not true. His heirs had everything they needed and more, one day his little Adam would be crowned king. He would rule over all of England.

He was welcomed by a multitude of people showing him their respects and was given gifts. But even though they had made an effort to conceal their poor, those who needed help, Harry could still see through everything. When he finally met the new Earl and saw the smile on his face, he knew he would soon wipe it off completely.

“Your majesty.” The Earl bowed down to him. “It’s an honor to have you here.”

“Thank you.” Harry nodded once. “It’s been quite a while since I was last here.” He looked around, then started walking around and greeting people who would come to him.

“Shall we go inside?” The Earl interrupted him. “I understand the journey was long and you must be exhausted and hungry.”

“We would like to rest before we eat.” Harry told him.

The Earl nodded then ordered a few servants to carry Harry’s things to a guest room. Harry made sure Liam, Zayn and Niall were close by. When he finally walked into the room that had been given to him he paused and looked around, then grinned when he realized it was Louis’ bedroom. He looked around the room where he had impregnated Louis. It looked different now, but Harry did not mind.

He got a few hours of sleep before he absolutely had to attend dinner. It was nothing new nor exciting and he wanted to get it over with and go home the next day. He did not like traveling during the night and expose himself the way he used to before. When he got tired of being in bed, he got up and walked around the room then made his way to the window that faced the street.

The first thing he saw were the dirty streets, then the many people going on about their day. He would no longer flinch whenever he saw the homeless and thought to himself how there shouldn’t be that many. Doncaster was not a poor town, and everybody should have a place to live. Harry made sure his father always remembered that. As Harry slowly took over, he always made sure to do everything possible so his people had jobs. So his people didn’t suffer. He could see Liam walking down the street with Zayn, and a smile made his way to his lips when he saw him and Zayn helping them out as much as they could.

Later that day, as he cleaned himself up to attend dinner, Harry knew what he was going to do. He walked into the room with authority, even when he was only visiting. He looked around and smirked when he found the Earl sitting at the head of the table. As soon as the man saw him, he stood up and offered him the seat next to him. Harry thanked him and sat down to eat. They ate in silence until they were done, then Harry made sure to ask for a tour of the city.

“A tour, you say?” The Earl asked.

“Why not? I want to see how things are going here. It is my duty after all. To make sure everything is going well and if not, then it will help me look for a solution to the problem.” Harry explained, arching an eyebrow when the Earl was about to protest.

They stared each other down until the Earl ws clearing his throat and looking away. “Very well, I’ll have someone get the horses ready.”

“Wonderful.” Harry gave him a smile then drank the wine he had left in his wine glass. He licked his lips as he looked out the window, pretending he couldn’t see the Earl glaring at him.

When the horses were ready they set out to look around town where the more poverty Harry saw, the more he was sure about his decision. He spent another two days in Doncaster, and the more he stayed the more he missed Louis and their children. On his last day there before he was due to leave, he delivered his final message. New changes were needed and new people were necessary.

Liam Payne was to be the new Earl of Doncaster per the king’s orders. The reactions had been exactly what he thought they would be like. A hopeful one for the many who wanted a better life and outrage from the old Earl. It didn’t take long for the man to completely lose it and charge at Harry with a dagger in his hand. The sharp end of it was inches away from Harry’s chest, right above his heart when the older man stopped short. Harry laid on the ground panting as he tried to figure out what had just happened. When he finally did, the older man coughed out blood then fell next to Harry.

Harry stared at him as he fell, then looked up again to see Niall looking down at the man with wide eyes, holding a dagger in his hand. His hand started shaking then quickly dropped it on the ground and stumbled back.

“I did not– I…” He struggled to speak, looking at Harry with eyes full of fear.

“You’ve saved his life.” Zayn was quick to grab him before he could take off. “You saved the prince’s life.” He repeated.

Harry got up and slowly made his way to Niall, and as soon as he was close enough he placed his hand on his shoulder and squeezed for comfort as he nodded. He would forever be grateful and would never forget it.

“Let’s go home.” Harry said then looked at Liam. “If you accept, you’ll have to move back in a few days.”

“It would be an honor.” Liam bowed down. He then looked at Zayn with worried eyes, only to find the man he had come to deeply care about already looking at him with a smile on his face.

~*~

The door to the warm bedroom was slowly opened, revealing Louis asleep on the bed and his children asleep next to him. A smile made its way onto Harry’s face at the sight in front of him. He slowly made his way to the babies and gently picked his son up placing him in his crib with a kiss to the forehead then did the same with his daughter. Once they were settled, he took his clothes off then washed himself, all without waking Louis up who was probably exhausted. When he was done, he climbed in bed with Louis and wrapped his arms around the smaller man, bringing him close to him. Louis continued sleeping, and soon Harry was in a deep sleep after the long way home back from Doncaster.

The following morning he felt drowsy and tried to move away from the harsh rays of the sun, getting comfortable when he could feel Louis next to him. He could feel him running his fingers through his hair then his gentle kisses along his jaw.

“You didn’t wake me up.” Louis murmured. “And no one told me you were coming back so late. I do not like when you travel at night. Makes me nervous.”

Harry licked his lips and tried to open his eyes, but had to close them again when the light bothered him. Instead of answering he wrapped his arms around Louis’ waist and brought him close to him. He didn’t say anything when he knew Louis liked to welcome him home as soon as he walked through the door.

“You looked comfortable and I didn't have the heart to wake you up.” Harry explained, not saying anything else when Louis stayed quiet. They looked each other in the eyes and Louis got comfortable next to Harry. Words weren’t needed at all except for one little thing.

“I love you.” Harry kissed the top of Louis’ head, his lips lingering more than necessary.

“I love you too.” Louis closed his eyes to continue sleeping, but it was impossible when the bedroom was too bright and the babies started crying.

Louis loudly sighed and got up to get them. He grabbed Adam first and set him on the bed, seeing Harry picking him up, then grabbed Elizabeth and made his way back to the bed. He let Harry help him so he could feed them, then sat comfortable on the bed with Harry laying next to him, his arm wrapped around his waist and his face buried on the space between Louis’ back and the headboard. Adam kept unlatching and crying no matter how many times Louis would help him latch on again as he started getting worried.

“Is something wrong?” Harry asked and seconds later sat up.

“He is just having a little trouble eating. She was doing the same yesterday but she is fine now.” Louis told him.

“I can get the doctor if you want.” Harry suggested.

“There is no need for that, Harry.” Louis told him as he kept his eyes on his son.

“Fine. I won’t have anyone bring him over.” Harry said, then started biting on his bottom lip wondering if it was the right time to tell Louis what his father had told him a while back, then decided it was best to do it now when the date was getting closer. “Father wants us to be crowned soon. He said he’s getting old and tired and would like to spend the rest of his days with mother.”

Louis looked at him with a small smile on his face. “If that’s what he wants. And we know your father will live a long life.” He said, looking down when Elizabeth stopped eating to sneeze then continued eating without a care in the world.

“I hope so, love.” Harry said, reaching out to place his hand on Louis’ cheek, feeling the soft skin on his fingertips.

~*~

The big day finally happened a month after that morning. Harry was in his best attire and wearing his coronation robe, looking like a proper king. Louis sat beside him dressed up to the royal’s standards, looking like a proper queen to be. He had told himself many times that he was ready to rule over England along Harry, but the truth was that he was not ready at all. He had not been born a royal, and he had not received the training that he knew Harry had received and that soon their children would too. All his life he had been told that as a the bearer of the mark, his only role in life was to please and listen to his husband as well as birth his babies.

He had always been told that he was not worth a thing, that he was only there as if he was one more piece of furniture. Going from being told that every day of his life to being told that he is important and worth it, that he was capable of anything he wanted was overwhelming for him. Harry made him feel loved and important, like everything was good in the world. Harry made him feel human.

He looked at Harry whose hair was being combed back, making him smile when his stubborn curls kept escaping no matter how hard the man tried to tame them. He ended up leaving it alone and down, letting it curl around Harry’s shoulders. When he finally left them alone, Louis got up from his seat and slowly made his way to stand next to Harry and stood behind him, placing his hands on Harry’s shoulders. Their babies were with Lucy and Edith so they were not worried about them.

“You look very handsome, love.” Louis kissed the top of Harry’s head, smiling when Harry grabbed his hands in his then kissed them each twice.

“And you look gorgeous. You always do, and today more than ever.” Harry turned around to look at him. He started leaning down to kiss him, only getting to peck his lips before they were interrupted by Zayn who had traveled all the way from Doncaster with Liam to watch the coronation.

They followed him to the coronation room still holding hands and never letting go. When they got there, Des and Anne were standing their respective thrones and an assistant of the court showed the future king and queen to their respective places. The Archbishop of Canterbury started the ceremony right away after the congregation had accepted Harry as their new monarch, he then started saying a few prayers for the soon to be former monarchs of England and a few others for the new ones. He wished them a long, healthy and successful life and monarchy.

Louis’ hands were starting to shake as soon as Des and Anne walked away from the thrones and he and Harry were motioned to get closer. It calmed him down when Harry never let go of his hand, even when they were standing in front of the congregation and the coronation chair for Harry.

“Harry Edward Styles.” The Archbishop started. “Do you swear to maintain and preserve the doctrine, worship, discipline, and the Government of Great Britain...according to its respectives laws and customs.”

“I swear to maintain and preserve the doctrine, worship, discipline, and the Government of Great Britain…” Harry repeated as the Archbishop anointed him with holy oil as the choir sang the coronation anthem Zadok the Priest . “...according to its respectives laws and customs.” Harry finished, taking a seat in the coronation chair and Louis stood next to him.

As Harry sat in the coronation chair, the Archbishop presented him with the Regalia: the Orb, the Sceptre that symbolizes power, the rod with the Dove symbolising justice and mercy and finally the Coronation Ring. The moment was ethereal when the Archbishop placed St Edward’s crown on Harry’s head, hearing the congregation acclaimed him with loud and repeated shouts. Harry watched with a proud smile as the Archbishop anointed Louis with holy oil, gave Louis the Consorts Ring then a crown specifically made for him was placed on his head. Harry had ordered it to be specifically made of gold and blue topaz stones.

Louis looked beautiful and worthy of being a queen, worthy of ruling England with him.

When Louis’ coronation was over, Harry grabbed his hand and together left the Coronation Chair and moved to the throne, in full sight of the whole congregation and sat in it, taking possession of the kingdom. Louis sitting next to him in his own chair.

The Archbishop gave his blessing then Harry and Louis withdrew to St Edward’s chapel. There he put on a robe of purple velvet and exchanged St Edward’s Crown for the Imperial State Crown before finally processing through the Abbey to the annexe at the west end. The four and a half mile return to the castle was a chance for the crowds to get the best possible chance to see their new King and Queen Consort.

When they were back, Harry was given his son to hold and Louis was given their daughter. They once again took a seat in their thrones, greeting people who would get close to give them gifts and their blessings. By the end of the day, after the biggest celebration, they were finally allowed to retire to their bedroom. Their children were being taken care of by trusted people, giving Harry and Louis the chance to be alone. Louis had made sure to feed them first and bathe them with Harry’s help. Lucy and Edith had a place to sleep in the babies nursery whenever they were required to take care of the children, and it made Louis feel better knowing they were close by.

As soon as they were finally alone, Harry stared at Louis who was no longer wearing his crown. If he could, he would have Louis wearing it every day, just so his eyes would shine in contrast with the blue topaz decorating the crown. The blue topaz stones were a pretty blue color, but Louis’ eyes were bluer and prettier, like sapphire. He wanted to look at them for the rest of his life, and it was exactly what he was going to do.

“What are you thinking?” Louis cut through his thoughts. He was standing right in front of Harry, just watching the man who had been deep in thought.

“You.” Harry answered easily and slowly started getting closer to Louis.

A long time ago, Louis would have backed away in fear at the sight of a man approaching him. Even more when it was only them in the privacy of their bedroom. But now it wasn’t like that anymore. Now he took a few steps forward and met Harry halfway, letting the man wrap his arms around his waist.

“I remember when I first saw you.” Harry smiled against his neck, kissing the sweet skin as he spoke to him, his words genuine and soft. Louis leaned into the touch, always craving more. “Even then I thought you were the most beautiful creature I had ever seen. And every morning, I wake up and feel like I’m still dreaming.” The king complimented him, both ignoring the fact that the first time they had met, Louis had threatened him.

Louis blushed. “Stop Harry, your words are too much, too flattering for a boy like me.” He whispered shyly.

“A boy like you?” His husband questioned him. “Louis, you are my queen. You are everything to me. If you do not believe me, let me show you.” Harry slowly guided him to the large bed, laying his body down on the feather-filled mattress. “All queens deserve the royal treatment,” He told him as he gently undressed him, taking off the expensive clothing and kissing the exposed skin. Harry gave special attention to his stomach, making sure to worship even the scarred skin that had protected his twins while they were inside of him.

When Harry got to his member he kissed the tip and then trailed kisses down the side, loving how his lover released soft moans and shivered under his affection. Harry kept kissing until he reached Louis’ bum. He kissed each cheek and then spread them to peck his fluttering hole. But when he stopped to grab the oil, Louis spoke up.

“No. Harry.” Louis suddenly grabbed his wrist and brought it back to rest on his hip.

“What is it? Have I done something?”

“No! I just... I just do not want you to stop. I really love it when you kiss me there.” Louis turned bright red at his confession.

“Don’t worry my lovely Lou, I just wanted to get some oil. I do not want to hurt you.” Harry poured some oil on his fingers and then swirled them around his lover’s hole. He pressed his index finger in, gently massaging Louis’ walls until he fit that spot inside of him that had the queen crying out. Harry leaned down and added another finger along with his tongue. He sucked on the rim as he curled his fingers making sure to hit Louis’ bundle of nerves every time, his screams getting louder and louder. With his other hand, Harry alternated between pumping Louis’ cock and fondling his balls.

“Oh, Harry. Feels so good my king. But I–” Louis let out a loud moan as he arched his back, “I want you inside of me. I want to come on your cock.”

“I would like that too,” Harry smirked and then removed his fingers and tongue from his hole. He undressed and then climbed on top of him, draping himself over his lover’s tiny body. He lined his dick up with Louis’ loose entrance. Harry felt Louis wrap his arms around him as he entered his tight heat, shivering from the feeling.

“Louis, you feel so good darling.” Harry told him as he pounded into him, then he kissed his lips, enjoying their sweet taste.

Louis ran his fingernails down Harry’s back, crying out when Harry changed the angle and went faster, continuously hitting that special spot inside of him. “I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you I love you,” Louis chanted overwhelmed by the glorious feeling. He never wanted it to stop.

“I love you so much too, darling.” Harry told him as he softly stroked his hair. “Now come for me, sweetheart. Come for your king.” Not even a moment later, Louis released his seed onto his tummy, painting it white. Harry followed him soon after burying his head in his lover’s neck crying out as he did. Louis smiled at his husbands blissful expression when he as finished, only waiting a few seconds before Harry pulled out and then laid beside him.

Louis quickly scooted closer to him and laid his head on his husband’s chest at the same time Harry reached for something. He showed the small black velvet box to Louis before telling him to take it. He watched Louis open it and studied his reaction. He knew he had liked it when his blue eyes shined and he hurried to take the gold pendant out of the box.

“I love doves.” Louis murmured as he traced his finger over the small gold doves.

They were two small doves joined together by their beaks, as if they were kissing. One of their legs were joined together by their breasts and the other one stretched below them as if they were holding hands. Each Dove had a stone on their breast; blue and purple.

“I wanted mine to be green, but I was going with birthstones and it turns out mine is amethyst.” Harry explained. “You are lucky to have gotten blue topaz.” He teased.

“It’s beautiful. Thank you, Harry.” Louis gave him a kiss then gave Harry the pendant. “Can you put it on for me?” He asked.

Of course, love.” Harry smiled, and while he put it on, he asked him a question. “Do you know what doves symbolize?”

“I know they symbolize peace and love.” Louis answered.

“They do.” Harry nodded. “They also symbolize purity and freedom.”

“Freedom…” Louis trailed off as he held hands with Harry and looked down at his pendant.

“We will always have that.” Harry lifted his hands and kissed them. He looked into Louis’ blue eyes with his green ones and spoke the words he had always wanted to say. “We will always have love, peace, purity and freedom. We are equals, and we are free.”

Louis thought he wouldn’t ever hear those words, much less believe them if he ever did. But looking into Harry’s eyes made them real.

He believed them.

I will post the Epilogue as soon as I finish it. *For the coronation part, I googled how it was done then tried to keep it as close as I could. I hope it wasn't disappointing.*

#Louis Tomlinson #LouisTomlinson #Harry Styles #HarryStyles #Larry Stylinson #LarryStylinson #Mpreg #Pregnant!Louis #Bottom!Louis #Top!Harry #New Fic #NewFic

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aiwannadrawit · 7 years

Text

Time: Friday 25 th

Place: Art Department

Between: Desmond & Anabelle

Plot: Desmond and Belle hang out a bit and Des learns of the issues between the people important to him

There's still so much to do, enough to have Belle's appointment book and day planner overflowing with notes and dates and assignments. She drops both books on one of the tables in the studio, along with a bag full of gigantic hardcover textbooks for the upcoming semester. Rubbing the back of her neck, she flops into a chair beside Desmond to look over his class schedule, more awkward with him now since the fight with Alex but trying her damndest not to take it out on her relationship with her favorite person in the department. "You should take the afternoon life modeling class on Wednesday, I'm doing the modeling again this semester. The professor brings in donuts and keeps a space heater on in winter so it doesn't feel like an ice box. Who do you have for animation?"

Desmond had been feeling pretty good so far. He had his whole thing with Alex and they talked, which was really needed now that he thought about it and now he could focus on other things. Like stuff going on with Belle. He knew she was busy, with the wedding, the kids, and everything else. He couldn't really imagine how she kept her head on straight but he commended her efforts. He scratched at his chin, "I dunno...I do so much life modeling already," he mumbled, mostly to himself as he thought of the countless sketchbooks with people in them. But really...taking it again couldn't hurt. "Uuuuh," he blinked searching his head for a name. "I lost it...but the paper's somewhere in my bag...I dunno."

"Yeah, but not with me. I'm the best." She grinned, tilting her head to beam at him cheekily, then looked back at the papers in front of them. "I'm thinking about the graphic design 101 thing and dropping journalism. Would be nice to be able to do my own marketing instead of subcontracting..." She leaned against him, head tilting to his shoulder. So many things had been changing in her life, it was nice to have something that felt normal. "Someone said they saw you hanging out with...whats his name. Rolan? What's up there?"

"I got you to pose covered in glitter though?" He laughed. He thought about it. "Sounds smart, best to cut out the middle man and all that jazz. Plus...if you really wanted you could always pick journalism back up some time later." He smiled at the relaxed feel of it all tilting his own head slightly to rest it on top of hers. "Hm...don't know any Rolans. Unless you meant Riley. Then nothing really," he grinned, "he's a new friend of mine." He took small moment. "You're okay? With all the planning and stuff? You don't need any help?" He kind of like a jerk for only asking this now, but he felt partially intrusive when she had so much going on. Even though he knew that wasn't really the case in the end.

"That was photography, not drawing," she pointed out, but smiled at the memory. It felt like she's ago now. "Eh, I was only in it for fun and to do the advice column. It ran its course." She tried to picture a Riley in her head, the image clicking with another notable redhead on the school's Instagram radar. He was cute, and available if she remembered right. "New friend with potential?" She nudged his side a little, hoping that the issue with Alex's public displays with another guy and everything that had happened since had finally put him off of the older man. "No, it's fine actually. Easier than I thought it would be, I just stuck some post it's in a magazine and gave them to my planner and Mitchell. All I have to do is show up and look pretty. You're coming, right? For sure?"

Desmond shrugged, he couldn't argue that. "Oh, so you're not gonna be offering up advice anymore? Those were always fun to read." Desmond couldn't help but to roll his eyes. "Potential for what," he asked in feigned ignorance. Though...he was still very much looking forward to his blowjob at some point. He let out a sigh of relief himself. "Whew, glad it's all so simple. I used to watch those wedding reality shows when I was younger. They always kinda looked like a nightmare. And of course I'm coming. Wouldn't miss it for the world."

Belle gave him a withering, if affectionate, look. "You know what. Are you seeing him? Or anyone really? Gotta know if you're bringing a date to the wedding," she tacked on as an excuse for her nosy prying. She stood up to stretch out her lower back and walk around the table, sitting on it instead and laying back so that she's looking at him upside down. She finally cut to the chase, even though it wasn't an easy conversation. "Are you still seeing Alex?"

"Oh is that all," he shook his head. "Well no I'm not seeing him... though I did end up blowing him." He mumbled that last part. "And I wasn't planning on bringing a date to the wedding. Except maybe Kuroko's if she's allowed." Desmond looked down at her, an eyebrow raising at her question. "Yeah..." He said slowly almost cautious. "I last spoke to him Tuesday...he's been gone for a bit."

Belle gasped out loud at the admission in false shock, but real delight. "He's cute, good on you." Unfortunately, that apparently didn't mean that things were off between him and the music professor. She couldn't hide the grimace. "Of course you can bring her. Can I ask why? He's not exactly claiming you in public, unless I missed something major. And it's been what, six months? Longer?" There was clear bias and distaste in her voice, she still hadn’t gotten over the argument, what she thought of as the last of several straws.

Desmond smirked, "He is cute." He nodded, glad this was pet friendly affair since he had gotten her a suit and everything. The grimace surprised him. "Almost a year I guess, and...he doesn't have to claim anything. We're not dating." He narrowed his eyes at her tone of voice, the shift in mood making him frown. "What's up you huh?"

"He's not dating anyone, as far as I know, but that doesn't mean he's not out with other people. It just seems...unfair. Especially considering his gripe with you telling me about the two of you. Since he was going to so much effort to keep you a secret but has no problem making out with someone at a public school event." Sighing, she sat up and turned on the table, crossing her legs to sit in front of him. "Not long ago he showed his true colors to me, that's all. He's and trust me when I say I don't use the word lightly, an asshole."

"He was," he took a deep breath. "He was doing that for my benefit. And that---" he waved a hand in relation to the incident, "was dealt with. We talked about it already. He can do whatever he wants and I can do whatever I want." He was being defensive, he knew, but they-- him and Alex-- had a really good and needed conversation. He thought they were in a better place than they had been when he left. "I know he's an asshole," he said, "what he do to you?"

Belle hesitated. Desmond was obviously still defending Alex, and she didn't feel like getting into another fight with someone she considered a friend - but she also wasn't about to lie and say that it was no big deal, when it was. "Aside from sticking his opinions where they didn't belong, being patronizing and implying that Mal and I don't have the kids' best interests at heart, he told me that I'm setting a bad example for them and that my upbringing was bad, apparently because I had a nanny. He made Mal think that the government would take the kids from us if we hired help, if I didn't quit school and work and stay home with them. Here." She leaned over to pull her phone from her bag, finding the conversation with Alex, and the screencaps she'd taken of what he'd told Mal, and handed it over to Desmond. "Full disclosure, I said some harsh things. I meant it."

Desmond read through the whole text conversation twice and then skimmed it a third time. This was...bad. Which, in and of itself, an understatement. But...from what he had read... Desmond sighed and handed her her phone back, sitting back in his seat. Well...he certainly could figure out what had Alex so upset that day. "Really? You'd try to end his career?"

Belle shrugged. "Maybe. It wouldn't be unwarranted, with his behavior lately. Unprofessional doesn't even begin to cover it." She paused, shaking her head. "They're my kids. I'm not going to let anyone put it into Mal's head that someone else will be taken away from him, that he's an unfit father. Marcus is old enough to understand things, if Alex said anything like that around him, implied that we don't care about him, it could kill the trust we're trying to build. So yes, if it came down to losing my family or Alex losing his job, I would."

Desmond didn't know anything about courts or child custody or anything else in that ball park. But Desmond didn't get that vibe from the conversations. At least not so much so that Alex was trying to destroy their family. "Job and career aren't the same thing."

"I could wreck his career or his job, and I would do either if he insulted my family again. I've done worse for less, and I tend to be...mellowed out these days, but I don't take it lightly when someone goes after the people I care about." She held her hand out for her phone. "We did nothing to him and he went on the attack because of how we're choosing to navigate a situation he can't know anything about, but that he decided he was the authority on because, what? He almost had a child? It's not a hypothetical for us, and it's none of his business to insult us over."

Desmond didn't see it as an attack. An unwarranted opinion that didn't go over too well, but not an outright attack. He didn't think throwing out the fact that he didn't have a kid was appropriate though. This whole situation was messy though. He ended up shrugging. "Okay." This certainly turned his mood sour. But he didn't want to start a big scale argument, even if he thought Bell was out of line and overreacting on some accounts. "Well, it's over now, yeah?"

Belle: Belle measured her words carefully - she didn't want to insult Desmond, he wasn't a part of all this. He was, in that he was seeing, if not dating, Alex still but he wasn't the one insulting her or her future husband. "I don't particularly want to be around him anymore. Ambivalence is about the best I can do." She paused, considering. "If he comes at my kids or my parenting style again, I won't be ambivalent anymore. Besides that, yes. I suppose it's over."

Desmond nodded slowly, "Well that's fine." He said; ambivalence wasn't so bad and he was sure with the way the conversation had gone Alex wouldn't be too keen on getting involved again. "So are you banning him from your wedding?"

Belle grimaced at that. The problem was that it wasn't just her wedding, and Mal didn't seem so inclined to burn bridges as she was. "If Mal wants him there, he can come." She shook her head. "I've ignored people with less to distract me. As long as he doesn't throw another fit of snapping at my guests, I don't care."

Desmond frowned at her second grimace of their conversation, but he supposed it was only fair. "I'm sure that won't be an issues," he said simply and then opted for a lighter conversation topic. "Do you wanna see Kuroko's in her suit?"

Belle brightened once the subject changed, though she was significantly less present, more guarded and defensive than before. "Of course! You got a little suit for her? That's amazing, I didn't know they made cat suits. Well...not that kind, anyway."

Desmond smiled, though he could feel the shift in her."Yup, they make all kinds of clothes for cats and the like. I wanted to get her a little flowers to go with it too, but I was worried she would try to eat it or something."

"Send my pictures, I'll make sure she gets some lilacs if they're safe for cats." She glanced at her watch, hopping off the table and gathering up her things. "I have a meeting with the new department head. You'll call me if you need anything?"

"Oooh...lilacs would be great." He nodded and sat back, picketing his phone and sighed. "Okay and yeah I will...you just do the same."

#chatzy para #anabellebeauregard

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coltondeforest · 7 years

Photo

BASICS

NAME: Colton Desmond DeForest

NICKNAMES: Colt, Grumpy, Sheriff

AGE: 87, appears roughly 30. (Even though I use gifs from all over the place)

BIRTHDAY: March 25th, 1930

SPECIES: Werewolf

GENDER: Male

PRONOUNS: He/him

FAMILY

MOTHER: Aurora DeForest (née Reynolds)

FATHER: Christian DeForest

FAMILY: Colton never met any of his other family. His mother’s side didn’t know about their werewolf genes so Aurora had cut contact with them not long after she triggered her curse, afraid to tell her family the truth about the existence of supernaturals. She knew they would reject her. Christian was an only child. His mother died when he was young and his father died before Colton was born.

SIBLINGS: None

APPEARANCE

FACE CLAIM: Jensen Ackles

RACE/ETHNICITY: Caucasian. American/English/Austrian

HEIGHT: 6′2″

WEIGHT: roughly 182 lbs

BUILD: Athletic

HAIR: He keeps it short in a sort of messy side part and ivy league crew cut hybrid where the hair on the top of his head is long enough to style into a side part. He doesn’t have it as close shaven on the side as a typical crew cut which makes it more leaning towards the messy side part style, but at the same time, the hair on the sides is cut shorter than the normal length of a messy side part. Hence why it’s a hybrid of the two styles.

FACIAL HAIR: Very light stubble. He only has more stubble when he’s too focused on work to shave. When he does get more stubble Colton gets a full face of hair. It’s not patchy, it’s not wimpy little strings of hair in random small spots, he gets a full-blown beard. He’s never done it but he could go full lumberjack.

HAIR COLOR: Somewhere between dirty blonde and light brown

EYE COLOR: Green

SKIN COLOR: White

DOMINANT HAND: Right

ANOMALIES: Technically the werewolf gene is an “anomaly”, that mutation didn’t just happen by nature.

SCENT: Coffee grinds, and a natural earthy smell especially when he spends more time outdoors and in the woods.

ACCENT: He’s worked out any telling accent. He has what would be considered the general American accent that doesn’t seem specific to any one region.

PHYSICAL DISABILITIES: None

LEARNING DISABILITIES: None

ALLERGIES: None

DISEASES: None

DISORDERS: Insomnia

BLOOD TYPE: A+

FASHION: Suits, ties, and a formal uniform when the time calls for it at work. When he’s not working, generally a plaid or solid coloured long sleeve button-up shirt over a solid coloured t-shirt, jeans, and work boots or other dark brown or black boots.

TATTOOS: None

PIERCINGS: None

JEWELLERY: A watch.

NERVOUS TICS: He bites his lips, licks his lips, crosses his arms over his chest and paces, rubs his chin, pinches the bridge of his nose.

HOME LIFE

HOME ADDRESS: 15 Oak Ridge Rd

RESIDES: Hollow Grove, Massachutes

BORN: Eatonville, Washington, United States

RAISED: Eatonville, Washington then moved between a few cities in Colorado when his mom needed to hide her slow ageing. Grand Lake, Granby, and Nederland, Colorado.

VEHICLE: A 2014 Jeep Renegade

PHONE: Silver Samsung Galaxy S7

LAPTOP/COMPUTER: At home an HP from the business line that he didn’t care to memorize, and a Dell at the station.

PETS: Elvis the German Shepherd

EDUCATION AND SPECIALIZATIONS

HIGH SCHOOL EDUCATION: He never actually graduated or got a GED. He studied through his junior year, but in April of his junior year his mom was killed and he ran away.

COLLEGE EDUCATION: None, Colton never went to college

MAJOR: None

MINOR: Still none

CAREER: Sheriff of Hollow Grove

EXPERIENCE: 20 years in HGPD, 5-ish years as Sheriff

EMPLOYER: Hollow Grove Police Department? The town I guess. If he’s doing a bad job they’re the ones who kick him out.

YEARLY SALARY: ~ $110,000 (based on sheriff salaries from MA)

BADGE NUMBER: Badge #83527

WEAPONS: He has several guns. Bullets to use again werewolves and vampires in case either species threaten the safety of the town. Mainly he relies on his supernatural speed and strength.

TRAINED IN: Hand-to-hand combat. He learned how to fight when he was on his own to protect himself, refined his skills during the war, and has spent even more time honing his skills since he came to Hollow Grove and started training with Dara.

LANGUAGES: English, conversational Spanish

BELIEFS

POLITICAL AFFILIATION: He doesn’t care much

RELIGION: Agnostic

BELIEFS: Whatever he believed when he was a child Colton has let go of. Colton isn’t sure what he believes in, not anymore. He wants to think that when you die it’s more than nothing but he knows that no one really has the answer.

MISDEMEANORS: None. None that he’s gotten within the last forty years at least.

FELONIES: None, but he has killed people. If he’d stayed he probably would’ve gotten off killing the man that killed his mother in self-defence.

TICKETS AND/OR VIOLATIONS: Not recently. He’s gotten them before, mainly before he became a Police Officer in Hollow Grove. Colton has gotten tickets for speeding, parking violations and that sort of thing. There are no outstanding violations or tickets.

DRUGS: No

SMOKES: No

ALCOHOL: Drinks frequently but not to the point of crossing the line into alcoholism. If he’s drinking he doesn’t aim to get drunk. What he wants is one or two beers to calm his nerves as that’s it.

DIET: When he’s busy a small breakfast if he remembers it. Normally just coffee. Whatever lunch he manages, normally a sandwich. For dinner, whatever he orders in. When he’s not as busy he’ll take the time to make better meals.

RELATIONSHIPS

ROMANTIC ORIENTATION: Heteroromantic

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Heterosexual

MARTIAL STATUS: Never been married

CHILDREN: Aurora Jane DeForest

AVAILABILITY: Taken

LOOKING FOR: Lorelei

PERSONALITY AND INTERACTION

PHOBIAS: failing the people he cares most about, losing his family again, being left alone in the world again

HOBBIES: Working, giving Jamie a hard time, getting Matty out of trees, taking long walks through parks and forests

TRAITS: Dedicated, loyal, overprotective, cares a little bit too much, puts everything inside him into helping others

QUIRKS: Used to hustle pool for money, will randomly hustle newcomers asses in pool when he gets bored and is at the bar

SOCIAL MEDIA: He has an Instagram now only because he was annoyed into making one. He doesn’t have anything else but will occasionally use other people��s snapchats, but he never sends a snapchat for more than the bare minimum so no one can react fast enough to screenshot whatever he sent.

FAVORITES

LOCATION: Old-growth Forests, Mt. Rainier National Park

SPORTS TEAM: New York Giants

MUSIC: He listens to most things, his favorite Artist is Johnny Cash

SHOWS: Doesn’t watch much TV, but he does watch Game of Thrones

MOVIES: The God Father

BOOKS: He doesn’t have time to read much anymore if you asked him what his favorite book was he wouldn’t know what to answer. All he reads are police reports and case files and that’s not fun.

FOOD: Hamburgers

BEVERAGE: Scotch

COLOR: Dark Green

MISCELLANEOUS

MORAL ALIGNMENT: Lawful Good

MBTI: ISFJ

MBTI ROLE: The Defender

ENNEAGRAM: Type 8

ENNEAGRAM ROLE: The Leader

TEMPERAMENT: Phlegmatic

WESTERN ZODIAC: Gemini by quiz, Aries by birth

CHINESE ZODIAC: Horse

PRIMAL SIGN: Hammerhead shark

HOGWARTS HOUSE: Gryffindor

ILVERYMORNY HOUSE: Wampus

TV TROPES: The Protagonist

TAROT CARD: The Emperor

#hgtask #( sᴇᴛ ɪɴ sᴛᴏɴᴇ ¦ headcanon )#i decided to waste time with a stupid shitty task header #ayyye

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tombloodyfelton · 7 years

Link

So I finally decided to get out of my comfort zone and write something silly with zero angst and terrible puns and questionable morals. I just thought I owed it to Julian (⁄ ⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄ ⁄) Pls don’t hate me for this lol.

Part I - Allenbert

After the whole fiasco of wiping off Barry’s memories and his little row with Cisco over what could have possibly gone wrong (‘There was nothing wrong with my disruptor, Julian, I’d calculated everything!’, ‘Oh, then why did you forget about Barry’s increase neural velocity?’, ‘Excuse me, but it wasn’t like you remembered that tiny little detail either, Mr. Metahuman Specialist!’), Julian had retreated to the small room next to the Cortex, which he had basically made his own private office. He was currently making himself look busy with working on an algorithm to identify patterns in unsolved murders in Central City in the past ten years when Barry Allen walked in, looking slightly sheepish, but mostly curious and...well, carefree.

‘Carefree’ was a word Julian would have never thought he would one day use to describe the superhero of Central City, but well, here he was.

“So...since everyone else is busy downstairs trying to figure out how to... fix me, I was wondering if we could...talk, perhaps?”

Julian didn’t take his eyes off the tablet in his hands as his fingers typed in a series of codes in quick succession. “Talk? Alright. I can multitask.”

“What do you know about me?”

The question came out of nowhere and made Julian look up at the younger man with a raised brow, “What do I know about you?” You’re a shitty CSI, you’re sloppy and hot-headed, you never listen to my wise suggestions, you have a hero complex… “You’re gay and we’re dating.”

He wasn’t sure why he said that. Maybe because he thought it would rattle Barry, or at the very least annoy him. He liked getting under Barry’s skin, ruffling his feathers, so to speak. It was all good fun, the length the two would go to just to see nostrils flare, teeth sinking into the bottom lip to stop a particularly nasty remark from escaping, but failing most of the time and then being shamelessly unapologetic about it. He braced himself for a sarcastic retort, but for some reason, it didn’t come.

Barry’s pleasantly surprised “We are?” wasn’t exactly what Julian had been expecting to hear. He expected a certain amount of skepticism at least, but instead Barry had sounded pleased with the possibility of them together. Julian also noticed that the brunette CSI hadn’t even objected to being gay either. Curiouser and curiouser.

“Yes, totally.” He said flippantly to mask his surprise, eyes cast downward at the tablet, numbers and charts mixing haphazardly with the sudden images of Barry bent over his desk at the precinct, pants pooling around his long legs, his bare ass sticking out in the air.

Julian dug his finger into the knot of his tie to loosen it. It had suddenly become a little difficult to pass saliva down his throat.

“So, it’d be ok if I did this,” Julian looked up at the odd comment at the same time Barry leaned down to catch Julian’s lips in a surprise kiss.

Julian’s first impulse was to push him away, but Barry was kissing him with so much fervor and charming eagerness that it felt wrong and somewhat cruel to put such an aggressive end to it. Still seated and craning his neck to better access Barry’s mouth, Julian went along with the kiss because it actually felt nice, and he was surprised that he was enjoying a misplaced kiss with Barry Allen, of all people. Normally, he wasn’t particularly interested in such open displays of affection, but Barry had a way of running his tongue seductively over the seam of Julian’s lips and sliding it persuasively into his mouth that the blond couldn’t find it in his heart to care.

“What the fuck, man?”

The two promptly broke apart as their eyes landed on the intruder. Julian cleared his throat and adjusted his tie awkwardly, as he pointed an accusing finger at a deeply flushed Barry, “He kissed me first!”

“Err...I shouldn’t have?” If possible, he went even redder in the face as he took a step away from the desk and Julian’s seated form.

Cisco gave him a comic wide-eyed look mixed with horror and confusion. “No! You’re not even gay! Or did we mess up with your sexuality, too?”

“What? I’m not gay? But I thought...and the kiss was…”, Barry looked back at Julian as if asking for help.

Julian didn’t have the heart to deny him that, not with those innocent eyes and the trembling lips on that stupidly cute face. “It was very nice, Barry.” He said with absolute honesty.

Barry’s face lit up like a child who had just torn into a birthday present only to find his dream toy inside the box. “Yeah! I’d like to try it again.”

Cisco looked like he was about to pull his hair out. “No, you don’t! This isn’t you, Barry. You’re totally not gay,” and then with less conviction, “Well, as far as you let us know all these years, that is.”

Somehow, Julian was finding this whole scenario highly amusing. “Well, if he likes to explore other possibilities now, I’d say we let him.”

Barry gave him a brilliant smile, while Cisco turned to him with a severe frown. “Why are you even enjoying this? I thought you didn't like him.”

Well, the remark was a bit odd, considering the progress Julian had made in his rocky relationship with Barry. He thought everyone knew by now that the two actually got along and the bickering was only part of the fun. Why was Cisco upset over the fact that Julian might like Barry a little more than was allowed within the red lines of friendzone?

“You...don’t like me?” Barry’s eyes were quivering with hurt and confusion. It did something awful to Julian, like he had just kicked a puppy. “Then why are we even dating?”

“You're WHAT? JULIAN WHAT DID YOU SAY TO HIM??”

Julian got to his feet and crossed his arms across his chest defensively, “I was joking, okay?”

“Joking?” Barry now looked on the verge of tears. “Like, we're not really dating?”

Apparently, an amnesiac Barry was also very slow on the uptake. Julian actually liked him better this way, he could easily wrap him around his finger and make him believe the most ridiculous thing. He was just so damn gullible and Julian surprisingly found that a highly attractive personality trait on the speedster.

But the British CSI wasn’t really that horrible of a person. Or at least, he didn’t want to think that he was. “No, Barry, I’m sorry. It was just a stupid joke. I didn’t think you’d believe it.”

Julian was expecting Barry to get angry at him for the prank, but instead, the younger man just kept looking at him with hurt, pleading eyes. “But...but I liked it. The kiss. You. I mean...I have these feelings...I thought...it didn't feel like a joke.”

Barry’s sudden confession of love, or whatever absurd feeling it was, threw Julian completely off-guard. “Oh my lord,” he pinched the bridge of his nose, not believing that a little teasing and a little kiss, no matter how nice it had actually felt, could leave such a strong impression on Barry, who was, by all intent and purposes, totally straight and in love with his childhood sweetheart.

They really needed to get the old Barry back, Julian thought with rising panic.

Still standing in the doorframe, Cisco seemed to be having the same idea. “Julian, please figure out this mess before Iris finds out about it!”

“Why? What does she have to do with anything?” Barry’s cluelessness made Julian snort in amusement. Ignoring the whole creepy love confession, this was the most fun Julian had had in ages. And he had to thank an amnesiac, suddenly-gone-homosexual Barry Allen to thank for it. What had become of his life?

“Barry! You and Iris are engaged!” Julian was finding Cisco’s outbursts also quite funny. Somehow, the thought that this whole mess was the product of something Julian had said made the senior lab tech feel very proud of himself.

“WHAT?!” Was it just him, or were there just too many outbursts in this room, Julian wondered to himself as he watched Barry’s panicked expression with sly amusement. “Why would I even...! I mean, she’s like, my sister? Wally told me he’s my brother, so how does that not make Iris my sister?”

Barry’s reasoning actually managed to quickly sober Julian up. This was getting into dangerous territory now and Julian should really stop treating Barry’s sudden homosexual tendencies and attraction to blond, blue-eyed jerks as an amusing joke. “Okay, this is getting totally fucked-up.”

But it was proving to be very difficult not to be amused at the ridiculousness of the whole situation.

“You think?” Cisco narrowed his eyes angrily at him. “You should’ve thought about it before making such stupid jokes for your perverse amusement.”

Oh, they were back at it again. The constant bickering. What was it with Julian always attracting these types of people into his orbit? Or did he just had that effect on everyone? “Well, I’m sorry! I wasn't lying when I said he kissed me first. Barry here apparently is kind of attracted to me.” And that is by no means my fault, he let Cisco draw that conclusion by himself.

Never let it be said that Julian Albert Desmond would ever admit to having made a mistake. Especially in cases that he clearly had not.

As if Julian had just said something Barry was dying to hear from the very start, those green eyes began to shine with fierce determination once more. “Yeah, Julian’s right. I really like the idea of us dating.”

How did they end up in this mess, again? Yeah, totally not Julian’s fault.

Cisco grabbed the sides of his head into his hands, looking on the verge of a nervous breakdown. “Oh my god. Okay. I’m leaving you to this! Julian! Fix this!” He then turned on his heels and left the office before either of them could say anything.

Julian turned towards Barry who was looking back at him with badly-concealed anticipation, biting his lip and shifting from one foot to another. He gave the brunette a suggestive smirk as he walked around the desk to get closer to him. Barry held his breath, green eyes daring him to throw all caution to the wind.

It had been ages since Julian had felt this carefree . He supposed Barry’s attitude was probably contagious.

“Okay, where were we?” And before he knew it, they were making out again, all eager mouths and labored breathing and drawn-out moans, hands tangled into one another’s hair and their bodies flushed from chest to hip, Julian on his tiptoes to better reach Barry’s amazing lips.

Barry was a damn good kisser, Julian decided as he felt sharp teeth tugging at his lower lip and sucking it in; and the blond CSI wasn’t one to let such good opportunities go to waste just because of some feeling of moral obligation. He’d let Barry punch him in the face once he regained his memories and then everything would be back to normal. No more guilty conscience and all, if there ever was one.

Next Part: Julvibe

#allenbert #julian albert #barry allen #cisco ramon #my fics #julvibe #the flash

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typhonheroes · 7 years

Text

Wings

Apollo didn’t like bothering Jacqueline.

She was a nice girl, definitely the sweetest of the bunch, and she had a particular wit to her that made a conversation entertaining. For a twelve-year-old she definitely knew her stuff, and so it’s no wonder that she’d made it this far with the superhero crew.

Perhaps it was her prestige and intelligence that made Apollo consider her opinion of the highest value. That’s why he called her the morning after his “accident.”

He was still, admittedly, emotionally compromised. He had gotten very little sleep the night before and upon waking he found it difficult to move. So difficult in fact that he refrained from leaving bed altogether, and instead opted to have Jack run him his breakfast. He felt bad considering everyone in their house had their own problems, but his roommates seemed more than inclined to help. Noah was particularly irritated however, about Eli’s disappearance.

“When you need him most he leaves,” he had said under his breath.

But it was in this state that Apollo decided it would be best to figure out what to do with his one remaining wing. He had thought about it ever since he found out he would lose the other, and it was something that he simply couldn’t ignore anymore. As far as he could tell it would be nothing more than a nuisance from here on, something that would make everyday life all the harder. In Apollo’s mind he was more than willing to cut it off, and as a result he wanted to get rid of it now when he was still in the state to consider it an option.

But, again, Jacqueline’s opinion was heavily valued. If she said that it was a bad idea then it was a bad idea, and Apollo would refrain.

So he calls her up that morning -- his phone of the few things within reach. He decides against calling until nine because he figures that by then she would be up and about and open to conversation. Jacqueline answers after a couple of rings and the grogginess can be heard in her voice. Evidently, she got very little sleep too.

“Hello?”

“Jacqueline. It’s me, Apollo.”

“Oh, hey. What can I do for you?”

“I need your help with something.”

“With what?”

“Did you see the news yesterday?”

There’s a pause. Then she says. “Yes. I’m sorry.”

“I know, everyone is. But I’m not worried about pity right now I need to figure something out and I want your help.”

“What do you need exactly?”

“It... It would be better for you to see in person. Can you come over to my place sometime soon?”

“Sure. I can be over in about half an hour if that’s okay.”

“That’s fine. I might not answer the door--” as if he could “--so if either of my roommates do just tell them that I asked you to come over.”

“Okay.”

Then the call ended and Apollo waited. Jacqueline arrived as predicted a little less than half an hour later. Noah let her in and pointed her in the right direction. She went up, her mind spiraling off in every other direction as she tried to determine what exactly had happened after that fight. She knew it couldn’t have been pretty -- the live recording was cut just before things got especially gory but viewers could see the electrocution and that would’ve been enough to scar anyone. So with that in mind, Jacqueline was ever unsure of what she might find.

What she found was not the best thing in the world, but not the worst either. Her worst-case-scenario had been finding Apollo brutally scarred from burns and cuts. Perhaps he would have been deformed beyond recognition, or perhaps he would be barely pulling through on life support, either way neither of those conditions were true and so her anxiety left in part.

But that didn’t change the fact that the matter was terrible. There Apollo was, sitting up in bed where every little movement caused discomfort that showed through his expression. One wing laid limply at his side, crooked in parts and missing feathers in others. The other wing was nowhere to be found.

It didn’t take a genius to figure out why.

“I’m sorry about what happened Apollo,” was the first thing Jacqueline said as she sat down at his bedside. “I wish we’d known what would happen, then maybe we could’ve changed it.”

“There’s no point lingering on the past,” Apollo assured. “But I have a question about the future.”

“Ask away, I will answer to the best of my abilities.”

Apollo nodded, and composed himself before he spoke. “I want to cut off my wing.”

“That’s not much of a question.”

“I want to know if it’s a good idea.”

“Well, tell me the good and the bad.”

“This wing is practically useless. My other wing won’t heal so... so I won’t be able to fly again. My balance is awful when I only have a wing, dare I say even worse than when I have none. Not to mention it’s awkward to look at -- it’s like I can’t decide what I want to be. I should either be a whole angel or a whole mortal, I can’t stay on the fence.”

“Why can’t you?”

“I just don’t want to. It’s time I make a choice and my choice is to walk among man. Always.”

Jacqueline stared at Apollo’s expression for a moment. There was a fire in his eyes, a passion that shrouded desperation and fear. He obviously wanted this to be done, and Jacqueline wondered if he would follow through even if she told him not to. Regardless he obviously craved a response, so Jacqueline decided to give him one.

“If it’s for the best then so be it, cut it off. I won’t stop you.”

“Will you help me?”

“I’m not much of a surgeon. I could always ask my brother to help but he’s not the biggest fan of blood. Regardless if you really want this done then I’ll help in any way I can.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.”

Apollo wanted the deed done before nightfall and so he got his wish. Justin came over, and the two of them along with Apollo’s roommates made a little area in the bathroom where they could complete the procedure. There was little fear of blood loss but they still made a sterile place to work with.

As they were prepping Jacqueline kept Apollo busy with conversation.

“Do you know a man named Eli?” he asked as he slowly lowered himself onto the slab of metal currently accounting for a make-shift surgeon’s table.

“I don’t think so. Why?”

“I was just wondering is all. Do not fret.”

“Is he important? You should tell me about him.”

“Well, I mean, I suppose he is a bit important. My roommates and I haven’t known him for very long though, so I can’t say what I’ll be able to tell you.”

“Tell me whatever you can think of. Personality, appearance, hobbies, whatever floats your boat.” Apollo was being secured down to the table whilst this conversation was happening.

“He’s possessed by a demon,” he began ever so bluntly. “A demon named Marshall. The demon’s a complete ass but Eli... Eli’s a lot more different. He seems so kind and caring and I can tell you that before whatever happened he was a good person. It’s really unfortunate to see where life has lead him, but the only problem that I have is that he’s just... hard to read. I never know what he’s thinking, and I’m always worried about his intentions. I blame the demon but even then I hardly know him and yet people have told me to fear him.”

Jacqueline had enough sense to know who these “people” were. She’d heard Marcus ranting about someone many weeks back, someone who seemed to cause a lot of trouble. That could easily be this Eli fellow, and if it was then suddenly a lot more things made sense.

“I can’t tell if he has a heart of gold covered in grime, or a tainted heart painted gold. His possession is definitely one of the more unique ones I’ve seen. The ones I’m used to demand exorcisms, and have victims who unwillingly agreed to the occasion and have lost all control of themselves. Eli’s not like that -- he seems to have some control over the demon, though how much I’m not entirely sure.”

“He seems like an interesting man.”

“He is.”

“Why don’t you tell me more? He’s starting to sound familiar,” she lied.

“Well, he’s from Boston. His accent is pretty obvious and honestly I don’t know enough about Massachusetts to figure out whether he’s faking it. And he has the oddest color of eyes I’ve ever seen, sometimes they’re so deeply mixed that they remind me of islands on the sea, and other times they’re so fiercely red that they... that they remind me he’s a demon.” Apollo paused now, a far off look on his face as his brow furrowed and he stared at the floor. Jacqueline gave him a quizzical look before prompting him to go on.

“Anything else you remember?” Apollo perked up.

“He’s a bit on the shorter side, I think I’m taller by a couple of inches. He also has this scar on his lips -- I think it was the first thing I noticed about him. Besides the accent, of course. I don’t know the story behind it but I wish I did. Then again, the whole ‘shrouded in mystery’ stuff seems to be his deal.” Who knows if Eli even intends to confuse Apollo as much as he does. “He has powers all stored away in that demon book of his, and I’ve only ever gotten to see him use it a couple of times but the few times I have I’ve seen his armor and let me just say that it’s absolutely stunning.”

“How so?”

“It’s just--elegant. Awfully elegant. It fits his form so perfectly even though medieval and Bostonian don’t exactly mix. Still, he finds a way to make it work. It’s all so incredible.”

“You seem really interested in him.”

“I can’t help but be. He’s the first person in a while who has piqued my interest so greatly, even if others seem to disapprove.” He could hardly be less subtle. “I think it’s just the want of knowledge that makes me this way. I want to know everything there is to know about him.”

“Everything?”

“Well, I suppose not everything. It’s just rare that I meet someone who has gone through what he’s gone through and continues to fight for what he has. It’s admirable, but I can’t understand it. Maybe that’s why I’m so interested.”

“You can’t understand it?”

“No. When my heart was broken twice over I was ready to give up. When Marcus died and Desmond left I was ready to give up. When my wing was torn from my back I was ready to give up. I cannot understand how someone could go through what he has gone through and not give up.”

“You’ve never given up either. You keep fighting even when things get hard.”

“Yes,” Apollo said as his eyes met Jacqueline’s. “But that’s only because I am a coward.”

#//jacqueline is def starting to notice apollo's feelings for eli even if apollo doesn't realize them #drabble;

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