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sepublic · 4 years ago

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Amelia’s Alzheimer’s?

From what Owen Dennis told us, Book 5 of Infinity Train would’ve been a movie, covering Amelia’s takeover of the train… Which, I don’t know if Book 5 would’ve gone over her takeover, AND her eventual arc post-Book 3, but; I believe the implication is that like Book 4, this movie would’ve been a pure prequel, set in the past. A good look and further contextualization of Amelia’s past sins and how she got into the headspace she now has, in order to set up for a future Book where she finally gets her proper arc.

That leaves just three other books… One about Guilt, the next about Revenge, and the last of Acceptance. Book 5 is about Grief fittingly enough, and we know that Book 8 (Acceptance) would’ve delved into a passenger with alzheimer’s, whose condition would’ve kept them from engaging with the Infinity Train’s intended function properly. Owen Dennis mentioned how this final season would’ve been based on his own experiences with his grandfather, who had a similar issue in the past.

It’s easy to assume that Book 8 would’ve been about a whole new character, which leaves either Books 6 or 7 for the resolution to Amelia’s arc- But what if that’s not the case? The Book 8 protagonist would be pretty old, presumably, so…

…What if Amelia was the Book 8 protagonist? What if, by the end of the series, Amelia’s age would’ve caught up to her, and she’d start developing alzheimer’s- Further complicating her attempts to get her number down, especially when she can no longer remember Alrick like she used to!

Think about it- Amelia as the final protagonist would be a neat book-end to the series, given how we began with her as the final antagonist of Book 1. The show starts and ends with Amelia, who alongside One-One and Samantha the Cat (and arguably Randall) are basically the core, central tenet characters of the entire show. The resolution of Infinity Train is the resolution of Amelia, who serves as the passenger most entwined with the train, having once been its conductor even!

Not only that, but with how Amelia’s character serves as a means of criticizing and showing the fallibility of the Infinity Train, how she’s able to game the system, how she works in a place to criticize One-One’s direction with it… And her having to deal with alzheimer’s could continue that theme of Amelia’s character being a commentary on the flaws of the Infinity Train, if it can’t account for her memory loss!

Amelia’s memory loss would be difficult to work with, if we’d only gotten to know her in just Book 8; But now we have Books 1, 3, 4, and 5 (at the very least!) to bring background and context to her life-story, and it’s a LONG one too! Setting up Amelia’s past in great detail, going into the intricacies across the entire show… It could be setting up the audience to remember all of this, when Amelia herself can’t- So we can get a better idea of her frustration, of how she ended up here when Amelia herself is confused, etc.! We gain a deep and intimate understanding of Amelia’s past for her, in preparation for the memory loss of Book 8.

Owen talking about how Book 8 would’ve been based on his own experiences, watching his grandfather deal with amnesia- From a meta sense, the audience could serve Owen’s role! We’re the younger people, watching Amelia, our favorite old lady, grow across the series… We get attached to her, she’s basically like family, so naturally it hits harder to see her lose her memory. It’d be a meta way for Owen to really capture what he experienced in real life, by having the audience take his position when observing the character of Amelia.

From an in-universe standpoint, perhaps Hazel could serve as the proxy for Owen! She’s more or less Amelia’s daughter in the technical and arguably figurative sense- We don’t know exactly how their relationship would progress, and the last time we had hopes of Found Family for Hazel, it didn’t quite work out… But regardless. Perhaps Hazel, as a kid with relation to the older Amelia, would’ve gotten to grow up with her surrogate caretaker, learn to value and appreciate her and vice-versa; And then we see from Hazel’s pained perspective, the loss of Amelia’s memories. Perhaps Amelia losing her memories of her times with Hazel, even!

This could tie Amelia and Hazel’s stories together, especially with how linked the two are, with Hazel resulting from Amelia’s failed attempts to bring back Alrick! And Hazel has a few of Amelia’s memories- She remembers taking ballroom dance lessons, because Amelia was drawing upon those memories when trying to recreate Alrick. Hazel could serve as a young guide to comfort Amelia, a genuinely emotional connection, someone who remembers what Amelia can’t, in the absence of Alrick.

Book 8 would’ve been about Acceptance- AKA the final part of the 5 stages of Grief, when dealing with the death of a loved one… And Grief is the theme of Book 5, Amelia’s origin story! Amelia would accept the death of Alrick at the end of Book 8, and perhaps Hazel could learn to accept the death of Tuba and another family member in Amelia… In the sense that yes, Amelia is leaving her too- But Hazel will learn to move past Tuba’s death, and perhaps her own experience can help Amelia as well. They can grieve for Amelia’s memories, for Alrick, etc.

It’d also be an interesting and frustrating challenge for Amelia- As someone who no doubt has at least some pride in her intellect and mind, having her own mind start to degrade… It’d really put her into an interesting headspace, and force Amelia into that acceptance of what is inevitable, that some things she really can’t change. And of course, this could deal with theme of acceptance, of how Amelia clings to her past with Alrick; Having her memories of him start to fade could really shake this up, and force her to re-evaluate her life and values, her priorities… Perhaps decide to instead focus on the Now and Future, accepting that her past with Alrick is not only long-gone, but possibly due to be forgotten. That she can love and appreciate what it did for her, but Amelia has no choice but to move on- Even without those memories, without that past, she still has a future with Hazel and everyone else to keep living for.

For all we know, Samantha the Cat could even come into play here! She’s someone with access to people’s tapes, among them none other than Amelia’s- And before she gave it to Simon, Samantha also had the ability to create new tapes from passengers on the go. Samantha is a long-lived denizen, at least about 150+ years old, she’s lived and seen the entirety of Amelia’s reign, and was likely there since the very beginning; Owen Dennis did allude to Samantha being present in Book 5… Specifically, he suggested that us seeing Samantha kill someone was a possibility, amidst One-One or Amelia committing murder instead; And that of course suggests that, regardless of whether or not the Cat kills someone in Book 5, she’d still be a prevalent character.

Samantha having that past with Amelia, and her own conniving nature, could possibly lead to her conflicting with Hazel, perhaps recounting memories differently, or trying to tell them in a way that’d sway Amelia to her side, who knows? It’s also worth noting that she’s someone who has regret and loss in Simon… So perhaps if she served as a central cast member for Book 8 (befitting my point about Amelia being a book-ends kind of character), Samantha would’ve learned to accept the death of Simon, and/or help Hazel and Amelia move on as well. It’d be a fitting and appropriate farewell, I believe, to have Amelia and Samantha, two main-stays since the beginning, have their arc at the very end of the series.

And Hazel? Hazel could be representative of a new generation, to step up and take the mantle passed down. One-One’s own input would be fascinating, because like Samantha and Hazel, he has quite the past with Amelia, and a lot of significance and understanding of her sins. And with his control of the Infinity Train, I can see him attempt to recreate Amelia’s destroyed tape, or even try to create a new tape for her, to try and get around Amelia’s memory loss. The Infinity Train selectively deciding which memories it only thinks are important could lead to disagreement with One-One and conflict, exposing the flaws of the system- And/or, the Infinity Train might come across a roadblock because it can’taccess Amelia’s memories anymore!

This could be a culmination for One-One’s arc as well, as seeing his failure to account and accommodate Amelia’s alzheimer’s, leads him to decide to make MAJOR reforms to the Infinity Train as a result! Maybe he’ll even stop the whole process of kidnapping passengers (while still letting the denizens function and roam freely). Him and Amelia have an unusual, kind of at-odds but not really, sort of frenemy relationship; They’re working together, they’ve been enemies, they’ve collaborated, each was the reigning conductor at one point. We could have Samantha as someone with negative recollections of her time with Amelia, One-One with overall netural ones, and Hazel with positive associations! Three different people with different pasts and interactions with Amelia, to provide their own input on their time with her, and thus help her rediscover her past…

…Or, at the very least- Come to terms and accept who she is, and finally move on. And, it goes without saying that Amelia’s dilemma with her huge number could be complicated by her Alzheimer’s, if she can’t remember things- And it’d be interesting to see how it might fluctuate, if at all. Perhaps Amelia’s progress actually gets pretty good, but THEN the memory loss begins to kick in, and that frustrates her. It’d teach the lesson that progress is not linear, that sometimes you might backtrack, you might think you’re so close, only to have retread the same path… And sometimes you’re tired of the journey and just want to get to the destination, to the final stop at the end of the railroad. We could have Amelia learn to accept help from others, to not try and seize control for herself as all-powerful Conductor, to gain some humility amidst her pride in her own ability and intellect…

We could have Amelia awkwardly navigate the train without her memories, stumbling across and slowly figuring out what needs to be done in order to lower her number, with just the number’s movement as an indicator, and no memories to work off of! Her only hints are whenever her number moves to a certain situation, so Amelia really has to work backwards… Through trial and error, figure out what needs to be done; Perhaps a callback to Grace and Simon, who had no guidance and struggled with figuring out what their numbers expected of them.

It’d be an interesting book-end to THAT point, especially since it was Amelia who unknowingly contributed to Grace misinterpreting the function of her number, so then having Amelia rectify this with herself, learning to properly figure out what her number means, and then accepting that without going into denial like Simon did… It’d really show the growth of her, but also the series, and of course the fact that Grace and Simon were literal kids, and Amelia is a seasoned adult. And of course, there’s the existential questions, if Amelia is a different person without her memories, if those sins still apply if she can’t remember them anymore, if she’s essentially disconnected and detached, etc.

We might see Amelia operate without any memories of her grief with Alrick, see how she is without that- And it might concern and frustrate Amelia, because she could conflate moving past Alrick, as being the same as getting rid of him truly… And the memory loss certainly doesn’t help. Who is she without her memories? It could lead to an identity crisis that echoes back to Book 2’s themes. Amelia without memories might learn to rediscover herself by looking into her past, perhaps existing without recollection, just this number she slowly figures out how to lower. Perhaps having a new, more detached/objective look at her own past, from a perspective as someone who doesn’t remember them, so it feels like the recollections of a stranger- It might contribute to Amelia really coming to terms with happened, with herself, and finally Acceptance.

It really could be the culmination of the series; With how the age of protagonists for each Book gets progressively older, Amelia’s elderly age and Alzheimer’s would’ve been the end of the line, the final stop/destination for the train. It’d make Amelia the central Passenger of the show, who we’ve been following since Book 1, watching her progress, in a sense seeing her grow up- And then finally seeing her grow old and suffer from Alzheimer’s. The journey of the Infinity Train could be the journey of Amelia, from her boarding the train, to the final destination, literally and figuratively. It could tie into the arcs of Hazel, Samantha, and One-One, and finally deconstruct the Infinity Train with an outsider who did exactly like that!

What do you guys think? I think it’d be quite the experience to watch Amelia grow and struggle as a person, so it really does feel personal and intimate to us, when we know her memories, only for Amelia herself to lose them... A fascinating, bittersweet study and journey of Amelia, but one we accept, because the journey made the destination worthwhile.

#infinity train #infinity train amelia #amelia hughes #infinity train hazel #infinity train one one #infinity train samantha #samantha the cat #speculation #theory #meta #infinity train book 8 #owen dennis #alzheimer's

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arvandus · 4 years ago

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Touch (Pt. 8)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader

WARNINGS: 18+ only please! Drug abuse/withdrawal, adult language/themes, heavy angst, past trauma/abuse, anxiety/panic attacks, PTSD, fluff, pining, slow burn, eventual emotional SMUT. *please pay attention to the chapter tags as these warnings will apply at different times*

Synopsis: When you first joined the LOV to lend your healing quirk, Dabi terrified you. Not interested in attachments, he wanted to keep it that way. That is, until he needs your help. (Slow burn, soft Dabi).

Chapter warning: Another long chapter, clocking in at 10k words and 27 pages. First half is a bit heavy, so... Trigger warnings: physical abuse, verbal abuse, childhood trauma flashbacks

Chapter Songs: When The Truth Hunts You Down by Sam Tinnesz/Make It Rain by Ed Sheeran

Part 1 Part 7

Artwork credit to @hellowon31 on Twitter (https://twitter.com/hellowon31)

Part 8 - Memories

Dabi stared at his desk, now positioned in front of his bedroom door. He did it as soon as he’d returned to his room and swallowed the pills you had given him. He wasn’t sure what to expect for the evening, but whatever happened, he wanted to make it through it without leaving his room.

That was a decision he had made before he even showed up at your door with dinner, as evidenced by the plastic bags currently occupying the surface of his makeshift barricade. Ramen wasn’t the only thing he’d gotten while he was out. The bags were filled with a variety of items - more snacks, a pack of cigarettes, electrolyte drinks, over the counter medicines. Anything and everything he could think of was in those bags, the collection curated from multiple experiences of past detoxes. Granted, this wasn’t a full detox, but that just made it that much harder to anticipate what exactly his experience was going to be.

Next to the lineup of bags was a bottle of high-end whiskey and a far less fancy plastic cup. That part wasn’t exactly planned… it was a last-minute decision, swiped from the bar downstairs after he’d returned from his shopping spree. He knew you wouldn’t be happy about it; no doubt you’d grill him on the risks of mixing alcohol and drugs. But it was his safety net without the risk of leaving his room in search of something stronger.

The night dragged by slowly, painfully. Every inch of Dabi was restless and aching. His scarred legs screamed a discordant song through his veins, muffled under the influence of the pills you had given him. The aches he still felt were just annoying enough to make sleep impossible, despite the exhaustion that pulled at him. There was no comfortable position, nothing to ease the physical stress.

Still, the pain was bearable. Your treatment was working.

It had its limits, though. Despite the pills you’d given him, he was still functioning on an opioid withdrawal. A jittery energy consumed him, forcing his leg to beat like a jackhammer, while his mind raced. Dabi could never stay in one spot for long, switching between his bed to his desk chair, to his bed again. Sitting. Lying down. Standing. Sitting again. It hadn’t taken him long to break into his cigarettes, dragging long puffs into his lungs to ease his tattered nerves. It helped to ease the physical distress, but his mind continued to jump from thought to thought, no longer encumbered by a drug-filled haze.

The headache relief you’d provided him was proving to be a double-edged sword, allowing his sporadic thoughts to come through clearer without the sharp, throbbing ache as a distraction. Your conversation hung over Dabi like a vengeful ghost. He tried to run from it, distracting himself with various forms of entertainment on his phone. Music videos, books, TV shows, memes…

Did you like memes? Of course, you did. Who didn’t?

Damn it, there you were again, in his brain.

He didn’t want to think about it. He didn’t want to think about you.

But he did anyway. Obsessively.

It wasn’t long before Dabi was sitting on his bed, his phone forgotten in his hand while his mind turned over every nuance of what was said, every detail of body language. It honed in on the fear in your eyes, the way you had wrapped your arms around yourself, the way you had frozen against his harsh tone. His mind chewed on it like a dog with a bone, a dog he couldn’t fucking train.

It shouldn’t matter. It shouldn’t fucking matter.

So, you were scared of him. That was to be expected. It wasn’t like he needed you to like him. This was all temporary anyway.

So, he had grabbed you. Big deal. It wasn’t like he really hurt you, right? It could have been so much worse.

The thoughts the did little to comfort him, his new-found conscience finding little of value in his weak excuses. The guilt sat in him like a stone, too heavy for him to move.

It mattered. It mattered a lot.

And he hated it.

Dabi still couldn’t remember actually grabbing you, but his mind filled in the blank space regardless, taking what he could remember and embellishing it into a brightly colored oil painting. It hung front and center in the castle of his mind, joining the tapestry of memories that wrapped around Dabi like a cage. And from it, it forced him to follow the threads of his life, drawing parallels to past wrongs, to things said and things done…

…To things better left buried.

“I hate you.”

The words echoed in Dabi’s mind, an old memory with his voice attached. Young, hot-headed, angry. He closed his eyes tight, resting the bridge of his nose on his interlaced fingers as he tried not to remember. He didn’t want to remember. But his mind was freed now, healing from the poison he’d been feeding himself for years, and it didn’t give a fuck what he wanted or didn’t want.

“This is all your fault.”

So, this is where his mind wanted to start first. He knew this memory, and he knew where it would eventually lead.

The memory came into focus with such clarity that it was as if he were there again. He could see her, clear as if she were there in person, white hair framing broken eyes as wet tears trailed down her hollow, pale cheeks. He could see himself too, younger, around thirteen years old, with red, wild hair like his father, his blue eyes filled with angry tears.

He watched, a prisoner in his own mind, as the memory unfolded before him.

His head hung low as his eyes stared ahead of himself, unfocused. Why? Why was this happening to him? His father’s harsh words wrapped around him like chains, restricting him, choking him, forcing him into submission.

‘YOU’RE NOTHING BUT A FAILED EXPERIMENT.��

Why was he cast aside so easily, as if he didn’t MATTER?

His father promised. He PROMISED that he’d help him become a hero. He’d trained every day, no matter how hard his father pushed him, no matter how much his quirk burned him. His father had called it the cost of greatness. It was all meant to mold him, to beat the weakness out of him and make him stronger, to prepare him for the greatest test of his life, the UA entrance exams. It was the ONLY path to becoming a pro hero. Not just any pro hero, but the BEST. His father insisted on it.

But now, with less than a year before he would apply, his father abandoned him.

“I tried so hard, mom. I did everything he ever asked, no matter how much it hurt, no matter how much he… he…”

His mother wrapped her arms around him, holding him close. “I’m so sorry Touya.”

His voice shook with the force of suppressed sobs. “If I’d been strong enough… if I was more like him, then maybe he’d have been proud of me. Maybe… maybe he would have wanted me.”

“Touya…” his mother whispered consolingly.

He stared at his bandaged hands, watching through blurred vision as his tears broke free and fell onto the strips of cloth. They soaked in, exposing the red blood beneath. He stared at it.

His fathers voice echoed in his mind. ‘You’re WEAK! Just like your mother!’

Tainted blood.

HER blood.

His father was right.

Touya’s pain transformed into anger. “This is all your fault.” He whispered.

Her embrace vanished as his words smacked her. Her eyes began to fill with tears. “What…?”

“This is all your fault!” He repeated, pinning his angry eyes on her tear-filled ones. “I HATE YOU!”

Dabi rubbed at the bridge of his nose, unable to get his mother’s facial expression out of his head. He had been such an idiot. A young, stupid kid. He’d destroyed her with those words. Maybe… maybe that was the start. The first crack in her mental fragility.

Her face faded away, and now he was in an office. His father’s office.

“I’m going to apply to UA.” He announced.

His father looked up at him from the newspaper he was reading. “No you’re not. I forbid it.”

“You may have given up on me, but I haven’t.” Touya said stubbornly.

Enji put the newspaper down. “If I thought you were capable of getting into UA, then we would be training right now instead of having this conversation.”

“But dad-“

“I FORBID IT!” He shouted as orange flames erupted along his face and shoulders. “I’ll not have you bring shame on the Todoroki name all for a childish dream.”

“It’s NOT a childish dream!” Touya shouted.

Dabi scoffed at the memory, noting his father’s hypocrisy about “childish dreams.” He knew the rest of this story… He’d applied behind his father’s back and failed the exam. His father was furious.

As if summoned, the memory burst forth, tying together with the previous.

He lay in the hospital bed at the UA Health Center, wrapped in bandages, nursing his failure. He’d lost control of his emotions during the exam, consumed by anger and a desperate desire to prove his father wrong. In turn, he lost control of his quirk. Not only had he injured himself with his recklessness, but he’d accidentally injured two other applicants with his wild flames – an automatic disqualification.

The school nurse, Recovery Girl, was treating the other’s wounds first, and then she would treat his.

Or so he thought.

Just as she was about to use her quirk to rapidly heal some of his injuries, his father burst through the door in a cloud of barely contained rage.

“Don’t treat him.” He ordered.

“Excuse me?” She replied.

Touya stared at his father, realization starting to dawn on him. He wouldn’t...

Enji narrowed his eyes. “I said don’t treat him.”

“But Mr. Todoroki, if I don’t use my quirk to help him then he’ll be left with scars. Worse than the ones he already has.”

“I know.”

“It will take him many weeks to heal. He may feel pain for the rest of his life.”

“He must suffer the consequences of his actions.”

“But sir, if I may-“

“You may not!”

“…very well, sir.” She mumbled. She left the room, muttering her disapproval under her breath.

After she was gone, a cold fear gripped Touya as his father stared at him with fury in his eyes. He waited for his father’s barrage of insults and accusations, waited for the lecturing on family honor and being a ‘man.’

But the attacks never came. Instead, his father cooled his expression, fixing him with a cold, emotionless glare. “You brought this on yourself.” He turned on his heel to leave, but paused to glance at him over his shoulder. “Remember this day, Touya.” Then he left.

Tears streaked down Touya’s face as he sobbed alone. No one could hear him. No one came.

Dabi stood up and made his way to his desk, pulling out another cigarette before sitting down in the metal chair. He lit the cigarette with the blue flame dancing on his finger and took a long drag of it as his free hand slowly spun the whiskey bottle in circles in front of him.

He didn’t want to think about this. Any of this. There was no fucking point to it, nothing to be gained. It only brought up the same pain he’d lived with for years, the pain he’d learned to ignore in place of vengeance.

He wanted to drink the entire bottle. He wanted to move his desk aside and seek you out, have you turn off his emotions like you’d done before. He could do it… the desk wasn’t really going to stop him.

But it served as a reminder. A reminder of what he had committed himself to. Why did he decide to go through with this? What the hell was he thinking?

He thought of you. He thought of the past few days. And once again, he was back on his thread of memories, following the tapestry down to its source.

The source of what?

He wasn’t sure. But it was as if someone had strapped him down and was forcing his eyes open. It wouldn’t stop. His thoughts continued unfettered, memories organizing with a clarity he hadn’t felt in years.

Touya sat alone in his room watching the rain pour outside as he nursed a black eye. Outside his second-story window, his father trained in the courtyard with his youngest brother. His quirk had manifested earlier that day – a perfect combination of fire and ice. Enji had been ecstatic.

Touya had punched the wall in anger.

Now he sat here, alone, watching his father train his replacement.

His replacement.

No wonder his father had abandoned him when Shouto was born. He was placing all of his chips on him once he realized that Touya’s body would never be able to handle his quirk.

A knock at the door interrupted his brooding, and his mother stepped in, disappointment already on her face.

“I heard you got in another fight today.” She said, as she closed the door behind her.

“They were picking on Natsuo.” He said. “I couldn’t just let that happen.”

“They’re talking about expelling you.”

He looked away from her, his eyes looking back out the window. “So what.” He replied. If anything, he welcomed it. Anything to thwart his father’s plans of making him go to college and get a business degree, only to work under his father’s thumb at his agency for the rest of his life.

“You can’t keep doing this, Touya.” She said, concern heavy in her voice.

“Doing what?” He looked back at her.

“Destroying your life like this.”

He glared at her accusation. “I didn’t destroy my life.” He looked away, watching the courtyard again. “He did.”

His mother walked over to join him at the window. A gust of wind blasted raindrops onto the glass. Outside, Shouto’s flames died away on his skin as he collapsed to his hands and knees. Enji grabbed him by his small arm, forcing him back up to his feet. She watched it with a sadness in her eyes.

“He’s too young.” She said quietly.

Jealousy soaked into Touya’s heart. “And I wasn’t?”

His words stabbed her, and she hung her head in guilt. “I’m sorry, Touya. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.”

Now he was confused. “Like what?”

She didn’t respond, and he looked at her to see her eyes glazed over in silent introspection. She’d mentally retreated within herself, to a place that Touya couldn’t follow. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen her do this. If anything, it was happening more frequently lately. Normally, when this happened he wouldn’t press it, allowing her to escape within herself, to protect whatever part of her she felt needed protecting.

But now her words trapped him, and his heart began to pound at their unspoken meaning. “LIKE. WHAT? How was it supposed to happen??”

His words cut through her mental isolation, and she stared distantly at the floor as her eyes began to brim with tears.

“If only one of the others had been strong enough… of only I’d given them better quirks…” the tears broke free, landing on the hard floor. “Then maybe… maybe you wouldn’t have had to suffer so long. I’m so sorry, Touya. It’s all my fault. Everything is all my fault.” She covered her face in her hands.

Given them better quirks? Who?

His body went cold. Suddenly he was outside of himself, watching the history of his life fly by.

The birth of Fuyumi. Then came Natsuo.

Now Shouto.

Touya did the math in his head. He was 17 now. Fuyumi was 14, and Natsuo was 9. Shouto was 5. A four-year gap between each of them.

He’d always thought that his siblings came along as a natural process of a growing family, born from love despite his father’s harsh, obsessive nature. Why else would Rei have stayed with him all these years? But the age gaps were too uncanny, too similar. It was just enough time for each of their quirks to manifest.

Shouto wasn’t the only one who was intended as a replacement.

Which meant his father had given up on him long before he’d ever let on.

Touya’s chest heaved, as his world was up-ended. “It was all a lie…”

The intensity of his tone forced his mother to come back to the present, her hands falling from her face to stare at him. “What?”

“It was all a lie!” he repeated, his voice raising. “All these years…”

He stood up and began pacing his room, his hand in his red hair. “Tell me it’s not true.” He demanded. “I already knew that Shouto was meant to replace me. But Natsuo?” He paused and stared at his mother.

She looked way shamefully.

His breaths began to come out in ragged gasps as he fought the tears coming to his eyes.

“Fuyumi?”

“No, not Fuyumi. Not initially, at least.”

Right. Because his quirk had just manifested when she was born. His father didn’t know yet how weak and limited his body was; he’d still believed it was something that could be worked past, that it was something Touya could control. Which meant that Fuyumi was wanted. Lucky her. No wonder his father seemed to favor her over everyone else.

He sat on his bed, his head in his hands. “What the FUCK.”

All these years, he’d assumed his father had believed in him, and only gave up on him right before he was set to apply to UA. Even then, he’d thought that his father only abandoned him as a way to protect Touya from hurting himself, or even worse, killing himself. That was why his father hadn’t let him get healed back then, right? That was the lesson he was supposed to learn? To accept his weakness and take his mortality seriously? Sure, there was the whole thing about ruining the family’s reputation, but he’d always hoped that deep down, there was more to it than that. There had to be.

But no. None of it was true. It was all about HIM. His father and his stupid, obsessive goal to beat All Might, even if it was only through his progeny. Touya was nothing but a tool to him, a means to an end. And when he couldn’t meet his father’s needs, he became nothing more than a contingency plan. In the meantime, his father kept trying to make the perfect hero. The perfect quirk.

And he’d finally succeeded.

Touya stared at his scarred hands. “Did… did he ever even love me?” The words fell from his mouth, a forbidden, broken whisper.

His mother’s arms were around him then, cradling him to her chest. “Of course, he loves you. I swear it.”

The warmth of her embrace made him turn his attention on her, and suddenly a revelation hit him, cutting into him like a thousand knives. His body went rigid, his eyes wide.

“You knew.” He whispered. He forced her arms off of him and stood up, towering over her with his height. She took a step back, her eyes wide. “You knew and you never told me.”

He turned his back to her, unable to look at her.

“Touya, please...” she begged, her voice quivering.

He didn’t want to hear it. There was nothing she could say that could fix this. His father was one thing… he’d accepted that he was an abusive, shitty father. But his mother? His mother who he’d confided in? His mother who was supposed to protect him? His mother… who he trusted? Why didn’t she ever tell him?

The betrayal was too much. It cut too deep. His entire childhood was a lie, years wasted by those who were supposed to love and support him.

Disgust filled him. He wanted her gone. Out of his room, out of his life.

“Touya!” she said desperately. She reached out to him and placed a hand on his shoulder, an attempt at bridging the growing chasm between them.

“DON’T TOUCH ME!” He shouted.

Flames erupted across his body, uncontrolled, as his arm shoved her away from him. She stumbled back with such force that she collided into the wall before slumping down against it. She didn’t get up. Instead, she sat there with her knees drawn up like a child, her body wracked with sobs.

He stared at her, horrified, as his blue flames died away on his skin. He wanted to go to her, to reach out and help her, apologies falling frantically from his lips. He took a cautious step forward, one hand outstretched towards her. But she shied away from him, her arms wrapping protectively around her head.

“No! Enji, please!”

Her words stopped him in his tracks. Slowly, he lowered his hand and stared in stunned silence as his mother babbled incoherent apologies. Something shattered within himself, sinking away to leave a hollowness in its place.

He ran.

Dabi was drowning, as the weight of his past washed over him, choking him.

That was the longest one yet. And the most painful. It ripped at the exposed tender places in his heart, places he’d thought were long-since dead.

Dabi’s vision blurred and he wiped at his nose. This was what he did. He lashed out, hurting those close to him, those who didn’t deserve it. It was the same with you. It was who he was, it was who he was made to be. It’d only be a matter of time before it happened again.

He lifted his cigarette to take another puff but stopped when he realized that it had burned down to the filter, leaving a trail of ash in its wake on the desk.

He unpacked another cigarette and lit it. His hand began to unscrew the whiskey bottle.

She had avoided him after that, and he avoided her. It wasn’t long after that rainy day that his mother had her mental breakdown, scalding Shouto in an attempt to burn away the image of her husband. Or was she trying to burn away the image of Touya? Was there even a difference in her mind?

The news had shocked him, and he ran as fast as his legs could take him. He burst into Enji’s office, forcing himself into his father’s presence.

“Where is she?” Touya demanded, his chest heaving from exertion.

Enji frowned at the intrusion, looking up from his paperwork at his desk. He was dressed professionally, in a white button-up shirt with a blue tie.

“Who?” He demanded.

Touya clenched his jaw so tight his teeth ground together. God, did he hate him…

“My mother. You know, your wife. The one you knock up every four years and the ignore.”

Enji menacingly rose from his chair, his blue eyes carrying the threat of violence within them. He towered over Touya, his presence casting a shadow from the wall sconces behind him.

“You watch your tone with me, boy.” Enji said coldly. “I will not be disrespected in my own house.”

Touya knew if he pushed it, he’d never get what he came here for. So, he sucked up his anger and pride, bowing deep in apology. “Yes, sir.” Touya muttered with downcast eyes. “Forgive me. I just want to know where she is.”

Enji paused for a moment, staring down at his son before returning to his seat and picking up his pen. “She’s been admitted to the Musutafu Mental Institution.” He replied as he marked his paper.

A pause filled the space before Touya asked his next question. “Can I see her?”

“No.”

Touya’s breath stopped, his mind unable to wrap around the simple word that fell like a judge’s gavel. His father’s answer was cold and final, said with such heartless ease. He stared in disbelief.

He thought he had time to mend things, to finally overcome his cowardice and atone for his actions. But there was no atoning now. He’d lost her. Tears began to sting in the corners of his eyes, but he fought them back; his father always hated it when he cried.

“So that’s it…? She’s gone?”

“It was for the best.” Enji replied. “She attacked my son, almost made him useless. Now I can train him without her interfering.”

“Is that all you care about?” The words fell from Touya’s mouth before he could stop them, covered in bitterness.

Enji’s pen stopped scribbling. An agonizing ten seconds passed before he set it down and looked up at Touya, pinning him with his sharp eyes, dark eyebrows pulled down into an angry frown. “Excuse me?”

Touya steeled himself against his father’s wrath as the rage he’d been keeping to himself burst forth against its creator.

“Is that all you care about?” he repeated. “Your wife is in a mental institution and your son is scarred for life, but all you can think about is surpassing All Might?”

Enji pinned him with a look that was almost akin to pity. “How small-minded you are. This was always your problem, Touya. Your mother too. You both lacked vision, an inability to see the bigger picture. That was why you were never able to push past your limits. But Shouto… Shouto will be different.”

Enji’s accusations made Touya’s lips curl into a snarl. “Do you even hear yourself?” he spat. “No wonder she went crazy. She wasn’t attacking Shouto, she was attacking you! This is all your fault, and you don’t even care. You’re a shit father, and a worse husband.”

The pity in his father’s eyes turned to ice, and the man quietly set his pen down before standing up from his desk. “Shouto said the same thing.” He grumbled. “I excused it coming from him, because he’s young and doesn’t understand yet. But you… you should know better.” He loosened his tie and began to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves. “I’ve been too lenient on you. It looks like there are some lessons I still have yet to teach you.”

Touya took a step back at the obvious gesture.

Enji stared down at him in disgust. “Look at you. Already scared. You’re just as pathetic as before.”

Touya went into a defensive stance, his blue flames igniting across his skin.

His father scowled. “You dare raise your flames against me, boy?” His own flames erupted along his body. “Very well. If you’re going to talk like a man and fight like a man, then you will learn to accept your consequences like a man.”

Dabi took a drag of his new cigarette, already burned halfway from neglect. He inhaled deeply, wanting the toxic fumes to fill the gaping hole in his chest. It didn’t.

He picked up the now-open whiskey bottle and poured it to the halfway point of the plastic cup. There was no ice to chill it, but it would have to do. He took a swig, letting the fiery taste coat his tongue, burning away the taste of ash.

Enji had taken him outside into the courtyard, where he received the worst beating he’d ever gotten. His father’s blows lacked the restraint he typically exercised, fueled by a dark rage. It had left Touya gagging and coughing, crumpled on the floor in a heap. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move, it hurt to think.

The beating may have been five minutes or it may have been five hours. He couldn’t really tell. All he did know was that no one came. Just like all the times before, no one came to say something, to stop him, even though the sound of their conflict shook the Todoroki grounds, incinerating nearby bushes and damaging the exposed framework of the surrounding buildings. And after his father had left, removing his tie and his shirt to clean the blood from them, Touya had laid there alone in the dirt, staring up at the cold, lifeless, star-studded night sky as an unforgiving universe stared back. He wanted to die.

It felt like eternity had passed before two sets of hands gently grabbed him and helped him up, each of his arms going around familiar shoulders. His siblings had finally come for him, now that his father was out of sight and they knew they were safe from his wrath. They had helped Touya to his bed, where Fuyumi tended to his wounds in silence and Natsuo sat beside her, his mouth pressed into a thin, angry line.

Dabi took another couple of decent gulps of his whiskey, resisting the urge to down the entire contents and pour another cup. How much did he pour? Four shots worth? Five? He needed it to kick in. If he was going to be forced to relive every bad memory he ever had, then he’d be here all night.

His body was worn down, his spirit tired. He really didn’t want to feel anymore.

But the alcohol wasn’t working fast enough; his brain wouldn’t stop.

It was late at night, the moon high in the sky, the air cold with the hint of rain as clouds rolled in from the distance. It had been a few days since Touya’s beating, but despite his sister’s protests, he decided to leave the confines of his room and take a walk on the family compound.

That was how he ended up here, six feet away from the training room. The light was off, but he could hear the sound of fists hitting, and every now and then the room would light up with bright orange flame. But there was no lecturing, no young voice crying. Touya knew Shouto wasn’t in there this time. He was still in bed, recovering from the burn his mother had inflicted. Enji was furious, pacing the grounds like an angry bear, snapping at staff and family and locking himself away in his training room to work out his frustrations, constantly striving for a goal he’d never be able to achieve.

Touya inwardly scoffed. If anyone should be admitted to a mental institution, it should be his father. The man was literally driven insane by his inability to surpass All Might. But of course, that would never happen. His father was the number two hero. He was “untouchable.” There was no one brave enough or strong enough to make that man face his own demons. It made Touya curl his nose up at the hypocrisy.

An odd silence drew Touya out of his thoughts. The sounds of fists impacting dummies and training equipment had stopped, the flames no longer bathing the ground in light through the open door. Then he heard it – an unfamiliar sound, one he’d never heard before. He furrowed his brow in confusion and inched closer to the open door before risking a peek inside.

The moonlight spilled in just enough for him to see the hulking form of his father, sitting on the floor with his head in his hands. His great shoulders shook, and finally Touya realized the sound he was hearing.

His father was crying.

Disgust filled Touya, sour and bitter. For all of his father’s posturing, for all of his grandiose lectures about strength and commitment, here he was, sobbing like a baby. And for what? For his inability to reach his dreams, while his family fell apart around him?

Or was he crying FOR his family?

Touya pushed the possibility away, burying it deep, deep down where he refused to give the idea any chance of blooming into a belief.

No. This man didn’t feel for his family. He wasn’t ALLOWED to feel for his family. He was the reason his family was as broken as it was, every single one of them able to tie their scars back to him and his selfish actions.

Touya hated him.

And yet he loved him. How fucked up was that? He could feel it in his irrational urge to go to him and offer support, a support he’d never once received. And that just made him hate him more, because despite all that his father had done to him, Touya still fucking cared.

His father wasn’t worthy of it. He didn’t deserve Touya’s love, or his mother’s love, or anyone’s love for that matter.

And he certainly didn’t deserve to cry.

Touya fled. He fled from his feelings, he fled from his fears, taking only his righteous anger with him and riding it like a hellhound. He ran as fast as he could, ignoring the pain that sliced through him from his father’s abuse. His lungs burned. His ribs ached. As he ran, his thoughts followed, chasing him and swooping on him like a flock of crows, pecking at his sanity.

He ended up in an abandoned warehouse, a quarter mile from his house, across the railroad tracks that marked the separation of ritzy upper-class life and industrial city complexes. He fell to his knees, his palms landing hard on the dirt-strewn floor inside the old building, as sobs ripped lose from his throat, harsh and painful.

He hated him. He hated him more than anything. How could he have ever idolized him? How could he have ever loved him? His father was selfish. He was destructive. He was cruel. And now his father cried like a baby, as if he were a victim in all of this.

He wasn’t a victim. And he certainly wasn’t a hero.

What kind of hero saved civilians while simultaneously destroying his family behind closed doors? That wasn’t a hero. It was a wolf in sheep’s clothing.

And it was devouring his family. His helpless, innocent family.

They deserved justice. They deserved saving. Where was hero society in all of this? Lining his father’s pockets, placing him on a pedestal to be worshipped. His father always preached about Touya accepting the consequences of his actions. So where were Enji’s consequences?

As long as his father continued to reign supreme, his family would never be safe. His family would never heal. His mother would never recover. Natsuo would never be freed of his anger. Shouto would never get to decide who he is and who he wants to be. Fuyumi would be weighed down by her obligation to her family, foregoing her own dreams to take care of them all.

His father needed to be gone. Permanently. Only then would his family be safe. Only then would they be free.

But Touya… Touya would never be free. He understood that now, even as his hatred and anger consumed him. He was just like his father, a proverbial chip-off-the-old-block. He’d managed to take all the worst parts of him and make them a part of himself. His obsessive nature, his anger, his jealousy… his violence. He could feel it in his blood.

If his family wasn’t safe with Enji, then what made Touya any different? He’d already played a hand in his mother’s mental demise. How could he be sure he wouldn’t hurt the rest as tie went on?

He was just like his father.

He hated his father.

He hated himself.

He wanted to die.

So then, who better to take on the Behemoth? Who better than his father’s son, the monster he’d made?

Touya had to kill Endeavor. He had to kill his father. His father, who he couldn’t even beat in a fight. He was stupid. A fool. But there were no other options. No other paths to justice. And Touya was tired of waiting for justice.

Touya’s sob turned into a dry laugh. Was this what it meant to be heroic? To bear the weight of this responsibility, even if it cost him his soul? Even if it killed him?

His dry laugh grew into a series of laughs, wild and hysterical, as tears ran down his face, while the reality of what he was committing to tore him asunder. As he heaved and coughed, a heat began to overtake him, building so quickly that by the time he realized what was happening, it was too late. Searing, blue flames blasted out of him in such magnitude and such intensity that the windows of the abandoned warehouse exploded, glass shards melting from the intense heat as they rained down. The flames roared outward, reaching for the night sky through the now-glassless windows, groping and writhing, their fierceness never waning.

Touya couldn’t stop it. The flames scorched through him and consumed him, the sound of it raging in his ears, his body devoured by agony as his quirk ate at him, destroying him from the inside out. Above him, the heat of the flames began to melt the structural metal beams.

But his hysterical laughter and tears couldn’t stop, even as smoke left his scorched lungs with each exhale and his mouth tasted ash. A screeching sound filled the space, the sound of metal bending and breaking. The beams gave way, the roof caving in as destruction rained down around him, silencing his laughter.

…..

Nothing but bright blue fire and broken remains filled his vision. Slowly, a dark form began to take shape amongst the flames, tall and towering. It was him. He’d come for him.

The flames parted, and he saw himself as he was now: black hair, dark scars, staples glinting in the firelight. The sound of a funeral bell tolled and his mouth opened, forming a single word. A name.

A gentle knock caused the image to begin to fade away like mist, even as the funeral bells still rang in Dabi’s ears.

“Dabi?” He knew that voice. It was you.

Groggily, Dabi opened his eyes to find himself still in his chair at his desk, his head resting on his arm. His forgotten cup of whiskey sat unmoved, inches from his fingers. It was a dream. He’d fallen asleep.

Another knock at the door, slightly louder, made him sit up.

“...Dabi?” you called again.

“Yeah.” He grumbled. He rubbed at his face. “Yeah, yeah.”

His body felt stiff and his neck had a horrible kink in it. He checked the time on his phone. 5:45am. Why in God’s name were you up so early? And why were you knocking on his door?

He stood up and stretched his back, and that was when he felt it – a sharp itching pain that ran along his spine, chased by the agony in his legs. It was worse than he remembered it being before he’d passed out. Your quirk was starting to wear off.

It looked like you were right on time.

He grabbed the end of his metal desk with one hand and pulled, dragging it slowly away from the door. The sound was grating, like nails on a chalkboard. If people weren’t awake before, they definitely were now.

As if on cue, three harsh bangs resonated from the wall next him. “What the hell, Dabi???” Spinner’s voice yelled through the wall. “People are trying to sleep!”

“Bite me.” Dabi snapped back before opening the door for you, and stared, giving you an obvious once-over. You were completely dressed, in jeans and a long-sleeve shirt, as if you’d been up for hours. Dark circles framed your tired eyes. “Hey, doll.” He greeted.

Your heart did a flip before you even knew what hit you, leaving you standing there like a deer in headlights. It’d been a cool minute since he’d called you that; you didn’t realize how much you’d grown attached to it.

It took you a moment to realize that he was holding the door open for you, inviting you in. Once you were across the threshold, Dabi closed the door behind you.

“Sorry… did I wake you?” You asked, as your eyes took in the room. His desk was haphazardly pulled away from the door, covered in plastic bags. The room stank of cigarette smoke and alcohol. A bottle of whiskey sat incriminatingly on the desk, some of its contents missing. You picked up the bottle and stared at it before pinning Dabi with a glare. You knew he knew better. For someone who was so experienced with drugs, he certainly did do some stupid shit.

“Really?” you scolded.

“Don’t start with me.” Dabi grumbled as he rubbed at his neck. He pulled out an electrolyte drink and downed its contents, wiping his mouth with his hand once it was empty. “There, you happy?” He moved on to a bag of chips, crunching loudly as he chewed in annoyance.

Normally, you would have been more diplomatic, navigated the waters a little bit more when you saw them getting choppy. But you slept like shit again last night, waking up repeatedly from bad dreams only to worry about this idiot while he decided to try to self-medicate by drinking his problems away.

“Don’t get mad at me for calling you out on your bullshit.” You replied. “If you act like an idiot, then I’m gonna treat you like one.”

“How’s it look up there on your high horse?” Dabi retorted.

“What?”

“It must be exhausting being so fucking perfect. Makes everyone else around you look like such fucking failures.” He turned his angry eyes away from you as he sat down on the end of his bed, running a hand through his messy black hair.

His words slapped you, and you stared at him for a long moment, taking in the sight of him. His eyes looked tired, his cheeks sallow. His hair looked tangled and unwashed. When was the last time he took a shower? His hand kept rubbing at his neck, no doubt nursing a sore spot. He must have fallen asleep at his desk after a rough night. You recalled the night you’d helped him through his withdrawal, and the breakdown it had culminated in. No doubt he was up all night battling his inner demons. Alone. Without your help this time. Guilt soaked through your frustration.

“I’m sorry.” You muttered. “You’re right, I shouldn’t judge. It’s just…” You sat down in his desk chair. “I’m trying so hard to help you. And… well…”

“What?” Dabi prodded. “You think I’m not trying?”

Your eyes fell on the desk, which sat askew in his room, and the bags full of various items that were obviously intended to help Dabi get through the night. “No…” you replied. “I know you are. I just wish you took better care of yourself.”

“I take care of myself just fine.”

Your brow furrowed. “I mean it, Dabi.” You rubbed at your face tiredly, letting your fatigue finally show. “I’m worrying about you, probably more than I should. I’m pushing my body to its limits, I can’t sleep, and when I do, I dream about you. Then I wake up, and I worry even more because I can never be entirely sure that you’re okay.”

You felt your body flush with heat at your sudden confession, and you looked at your hands in embarrassment. You weren’t supposed to say that. You weren’t supposed to say any of that. Stupid, no-good, tired, foggy brain.

A shit-eating grin spread across Dabi’s face, his eyes lighting up in amusement. “You dream about me, eh?”

“Shut up.” You grumbled. You grabbed a crumpled-up napkin and threw it at Dabi’s head. It fell pitifully to the floor, three feet from where he sat.

Dabi stared at the failed attack and gave a laugh. “That was pathetic.”

You tried to suppress a grin. “I said shut up. God, you’re such a brat.”

A moment of silence passed between the two of you before Dabi finally spoke. “Gotta solution to your problem… Stop worrying so much.”

You gave a small half-smirk. “Sorry, not gonna happen.” You replied. “I worry about my friends. That’s just how I am.”

Something did a flip in Dabi’s chest, and he averted his eyes. “Friends, huh? You don’t even know me.”

“I know you better today than I did a few days ago…”

He gave a dry laugh. You weren’t wrong…

“If we’re not friends when this is all over, then I will be greatly offended.” You teased. “Besides… like your company.”

Dabi stared at you like you grew a second head. You liked his company? For the life of him, he couldn’t understand why. Most of the time you’d spent together so far was him either feeling like shit or being an asshole.

But he liked your company too even though he wouldn’t admit it out loud, and for the moment he didn’t feel like fighting it. He’d argue with himself later over it for sure, but for right now… he enjoyed feeling your presence, enjoyed how your words wrapped around him like a warm blanket, safe and secure. His memories still sat upon his shoulders, lurking like crows, but they were silent for now, and he was pretty sure that it had something to do with you being here.

Your voice broke through his thoughts. “Let’s change your bandage. Are you okay waiting until I’m done treating you to get your pills?”

“Why, are you punishing me for drinking?” he replied. It took you a moment before you caught on that he was teasing.

You grinned and raised an eyebrow at him. “No, but now that you mention it, we should probably wait until after we’re done since I don’t know how long ago it was that you drank.”

Dabi narrowed his eyes at you suspiciously. Now you were just doing this on purpose…

You sat behind him on the bed and began unpacking your materials while he removed his shirt. When you removed his bandage, you stared at the healing burn for a moment.

“How’s it look?” He asked, glancing back at you over his shoulder.

“It’s healing okay, but it’s still going to take some time until you don’t need the bandages.”

Regardless of the status of his burn, he still needed to see you twice a day for your quirk treatment and pills. It was exhausting, and you were grateful that so far the others only returned with minor injuries. But that could change at any moment, and you needed to be able to handle it; otherwise, Shigaraki would start to question your value.

You could only hope that your seller could find a way to expedite Dabi’s medication. And your own too. You’d counted what you had left before you’d arrived, and you were getting low. Dangerously low. You could get through today and tomorrow morning, but if you didn’t have your refills by then…

You tried not to think about it.

You changed his bandages easily and began applying your quirk to his scarred skin just as you’d done the night before. When you adjusted your position to handle the scars on his front half, the fear crept up again. But this time, you were able to wrangle it successfully, only hesitating for a moment before you continued. You broke the silence with words, a helpful distraction from your increasing discomfort and wandering thoughts.

“I didn’t know you smoked.” You commented.

He eyed you for a moment, waiting for another lecture. But it never came and when your eyes met his in a quick glance, there was no judgment in them.

“Only once in a while.” He replied.

You read between the lines of his answer. “Does it help?”

“A little.”

Silence fell again as you became increasingly focused on your quirk. Your back was itching painfully again, and your heightened senses were making the light in the room seem far too bright. Still, your fingers traced along his neck, taking special care to make sure no space was left untouched. Dabi watched your face, inches from his own. That was when he noticed it. Something was wrong. Your smile was gone, your lips now pressed into a firm line. You took your breaths in through your nose, and your brows were pulled together as you focused. Your hands were starting to shake. Were you scared again? Or was it something else?

Just as your hands began to reach his face, he grabbed your hands in his own and pulled back slightly out of your reach. “Stop.”

Your eyes focused on him. “What? Why?”

“Your quirk. Does it hurt?” his tone was stern.

You stared at him, your expression caught like a deer in headlights before looking away abashedly.

“Yeah, sort of.” You replied.

Dabi held your hands, as he waited for a better answer than what you gave him.

Finally, you slowly pulled our hands out of his grasp, his touch leaving electricity on your skin, and sat on the bed next to him with your hands clasped together.

“So, you know how when I use my quirk, it numbs your pain?” Dabi waited silently for you to continue. “It sort of has an opposite effect on me. The more I use it, the more heightened my senses become. And if I use my quirk too much, then it becomes… uncomfortable.”

Dabi stared at his hands as you spoke, his brow pulled down into a dark frown. All this time… he knew you were pushing yourself to your limits; hell, you even said so earlier. But he had assumed it just caused fatigue. He never knew that it caused you pain. How had he never noticed? How many times had you treated him?

How much did you use your quirk on the first night of his withdrawal? How far did you really push yourself?

A car alarm went off outside of his open window, and your hands immediately flew up to cover your ears against the assault, your heart pounding. Once the pain and panic dissipated, you lowered your hands, embarrassment hot in your blood. It was the first time Dabi saw this part of you, and it made you feel weak and vulnerable.

“Sorry.” You mumbled.

Dabi hated those words. He especially hated hearing them from you. What the hell did you have to be sorry about? Anger bubbled in him, old and familiar. But he forced it down, aware of what his anger did to you as the memories flitted across his mind like a warning.

“It’s fine.” Dabi replied, keeping his voice even.

Dabi’s mind began turning over this new piece of information, fitting the missing puzzle piece into what little he did have. He became acutely aware of how little he really knew about you.

“Is that what those drugs are for?” he asked.

You paused for a moment, contemplating if you should spin your truth to fit his theory. But it didn’t feel right. Earlier you said you considered him a friend. Did you keep secrets from friends?

How much did you really trust him? How much did he trust you?

He was already trusting you more than you were, letting you help him through something very personal. You’d seen him vulnerable far more than he’d seen you vulnerable. So how would he feel if he learned you were keeping the truth from him?

You wondered how he’d react. If anyone would understand the pain you went through, it’d be him. If anything, it might make the two of you closer. You couldn’t deny that the idea of that resonated with an unspoken need within you.

“Sort of.” You replied, as you fiddled with the hem of your shirt. “I can’t use them for my sensory overload. It’d take too many to really have an impact, and I’d probably O.D. if I tried.”

“So, what are they for?”

Wow. He really wanted to know.

Your heart pounded in your chest, as your words got stuck somewhere between your mouth and your insecurity. It’d been so long since you’d talked about it, since you’d acknowledged it with another person. What if he laughed? After all, how ridiculous did you look complaining about a single scar compared to Dabi?? Or worse, what if he didn’t care at all?

But he’d asked, and now he was waiting for an answer.

The words still wouldn’t come, so you positioned yourself with your back facing him and lifted your shirt slightly, exposing the damaged flesh beneath.

Dabi’s eyes widened. He knew a burn scar when he saw one. And not just any burn scar. There was a pattern to it, a story in its twisted, marred flesh. This was done by a quirk. It spread across your lower back, the edge of it dipping beneath the hem of your pants. His hand began to reach out, fingers twitching with the urge to touch it, as if his touch could take the hateful mark off of you. But he caught himself, his fingers inches from your skin, and clenched his hand into a tight fist.

A long, heavy silence begin to fill the space between you while a thousand questions perched on the edge of his lips as he grappled with this new information and the emotions that erupted from it.

The silence dragged on, and you lowered your shirt, as heart-pounding anxiety smothered you. It filled the dark spaces in you, the weak places where confidence had abandoned you. It settled into a could dread that made you unable to turn around and face him. Why wasn’t he saying anything? You squeezed your eyes closed as tears pricked at the corners.

Did you make a mistake? You shouldn’t have shown him. You should have just brushed it off or lied when you had the chance.

Tears began to slip down your cheeks, and you struggled to stop them. But they wouldn’t stop, and you wiped away at them angrily, sniffling as you struggled to contain yourself.

The sound of your distress snapped Dabi out of his obsessive thoughts. You were crying. Why?

Was it something he said? But he didn’t say anything.

Was it something he did? But he didn’t do anything.

What the hell was he supposed to do? He had no words of comfort, and he certainly couldn’t hold you, not without crossing a boundary he’d set for himself. You had called him a friend. How did friends comfort each other? He had no fucking clue.

He scratched at his head awkwardly before standing up. He bit his cheek from the pain in his legs. Your pills had worn off, and they were in desperate need of attention. But he forced it into submission, instead making his way to his desk to retrieve a clean napkin and handing it to you.

The small gesture seemed to help, as you gave a small chuckle and accepted the gift, wiping at your eyes as you averted your tear-stained face from him.

“I’m sorry.” You said with a sheepish laugh.

There was that fucking phrase again.

“Don’t be.” He replied.

That answer seemed to help, too. You finally turned to face him, a sheepish smile on your face.

“I know guys typically freak out when they see a girl cry.” You commented. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

Your emotional reaction embarrassed you, and now you were struggling to save face.

“It’s fine.” He grabbed the bag of chips from earlier and grabbed a couple for himself before holding the bag out to you in offering. You shook your head, keeping your eyes on your lap.

“It’s just… it’s been a long time since I’ve shared this with anyone.” You tried to explain. Not entirely truthful, but not entirely a lie either.

“I shouldn’t have asked.” He replied.

“No, it’s fine.” You replied. “I understand why you wanted to know.”

Silence followed for a moment, filled only by the sound of Dabi’s crunching. It grated on your ears, but you didn’t want to say anything, glad that he was at least eating something. Instead, you tried to cover the noise of his chips with your voice.

“It doesn’t hurt all the time…” you explained. “Only when my quirk gets overused. That’s what the pills are for.”

“What about your sensory overload?” Dabi asked.

You were grateful that the conversation was progressing forward, leaving your mini breakdown in the past.

“Usually it’s a matter of reducing exposure. Turning off lights, quieting noises, that kind of thing.” You replied.

As you spoke, Dabi watched you. He watched the way you never seemed to look up from your lap for very long, your eyes avoiding the light of his lamp. Your shoulders were hunched against the cold (or was it the pain?), and he recalled how the car alarm before had made you cover your ears.

He grabbed another chip as his mind analyzed all the things that he’d missed before. As soon as it crunched under his teeth, he saw your hands squeeze tightly on the hem of your shirt before loosening again.

He stared at the bag, before holding it up to you. “This bothers you?” he asked.

You averted your eyes, embarrassed. “Just a little.”

He slowly put the bag down on the desk, careful not to have it crinkle too loudly. “Why didn’t you say something?”

You shrugged. He scowled. Then, he stood up with a wince, and closed his open window, drawing the curtains closed to block the brightening daylight. As he walked back to sit on the bed next to you, he turned off his lamp, plunging the room into darkness that faded to a comfortable dim light once your eyes had adjusted to the change, morning light seeping into the room at an acceptable level.

You could feel the relief immediately, and you stared at him, bewildered not just by his kindness, but by his awareness. Was he really paying attention to you that closely? It made your blood rush in your ears and your heart do somersaults.

“Thank you.” You said softly.

“It’s not a big deal.” He replied as he leaned back and stared at the light dancing on the ceiling. It was the least he could do, he thought. This discomfort you were feeling was because of him, after all. Besides, after all you’d done for him – were still doing for him – he figured you’d earned a little bit of kindness in return.

But only for you.

Dammit.

He really was a lost cause.

“I’m feeling better now…” you said. “I can finish treating your scars.”

“It’s fine.” Dabi lied.

You stood up and faced him. “Let me at least treat your legs. I wasn’t able to get to them last night.”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Dabi…” he looked at you and was met with a knowing look on your face. “Trust me. I know my limits. Besides, this is literally my job.”

Dabi frowned at you. “No, your job is to treat injuries, not help drug addicts.”

“My job is to make sure everyone is able to function to the best of their ability.” You countered. You crossed your arms with a smug look. “Don’t make me go tell Shigaraki that you’re being a bad patient.”

He scowled and looked away. You took that as a surrender and sent him into the bathroom to change into shorts to make your job easier. When he came back out, he was still frowning.

“You play dirty.” He complained. “And not in a fun way.”

You grinned but didn’t respond as you focused on running your hands along his scarred legs, starting at above the knee. By the time you were done, your quirk was riding the brink, your back on fire again. But you gritted your teeth and bore it, even as sweat beaded across your face.

You went to your bag and began to rummage through it, wincing as you bent over. Your back was facing Dabi, your butt in the air, and he couldn’t help but appreciate the view. A subtle smirk tugged at his lips. But the grin was short lived; it fell as soon as you stood up, holding the familiar pill bottle in your hand.

“No.” Dabi said adamantly.

“Give me a break.” You replied, as you opened the container. “What other options do we have?”

You held out the three pills towards him, but he stared at them. “I can’t take these.” He said.

You took his hand in yours and placed the pills into his palm, closing his fingers over them. “You can, and you will.” You replied. “Besides, it’s temporary, remember?”

He opened his mouth to protest, but a ding sounded within the room that made you nearly jump out of your skin with your sensitive hearing. You clumsily pulled your phone out of your bag and opened up your text messages. Your eyes lit up, and a smile spread across your face before you put the phone away in your bag.

“Good news,” you said. “Looks like the refills for my pills will be ready for pickup tomorrow.”

“What about mine?” Dabi asked.

Your expression fell slightly. “He didn’t mention them, so I’m guessing they’re not ready yet.”

“Well that fucking sucks.”

“It’s not all bad… once I get my refill, there will be enough for both of us. I asked him to double up the pills so there’d be enough. Then I can really start treating you properly until your pills arrive. See? I told you it’d be temporary…”

Dabi looked up at your happy face and couldn’t deny the relief he felt knowing you weren’t going to be hurting yourself for him for much longer. “Fine.” He replied. He swallowed the pills before he could change his mind.

You picked up your bag with another wince and made your way to the door. Dabi stood up to follow you, relishing in the painless effort of walking. He felt like he could run.

Before you opened his door, you half-turned to him. “Get some more rest.” You wrinkled your nose at him. “And maybe take a shower. And brush your teeth.”

Dabi rolled his eyes. “Yes, mom.”

After you left, he paused for a moment before sniffing his armpit. He didn’t really smell that bad… did he?

________________________________

Part 9

________________________________

Taglist (always open!): @lemonfvck @vs-redemption @inanabsentia @sheedaabee @toshiuwuu @marydragneell @chillinwithmybakubros @genuinelytodorokisbitch @sam-i-am-1025 @redflannel @axerrri @necccomancy @miadraws0 @hot-pocket01 @hopelessdisasterr @dummythiccwitch @villainsdeku @aquzairus @officialtrashbusiness @hemdem018 @purplesweethart @doebopeepeebbod @ghost-of-todoroki @marvel-philosophy @lysawayne @udontneedtokno @citrussaurus @littleladdty @starsforannie @zunmieh @mae-rd @mrsreina @ohh-takuuu @ih8beefnoodles @kellyyween @jojoniles @steale24 @peach-tea-0 @orenjineki @diobrandoatemykids @minionsexuall @liitlesushi @jojoniles @bilalbambi @tinitimesims125 @emmappelle @babayaga67

#dabi #dabi x reader #dabi x you #mha #bnha #touch #dabi touch #soft dabi #angst #TW: verbal abuse #TW: physical abuse #TW: abuse #TW: childhood trauma #tw: alcohol

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pynkhues · 3 years ago

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(1/2) Hey, I'm the anon from the last request. Just have a few follow up q's if you're alright with that (dont have a tumblr to message directly rip)? With Gerri, its strange that she's Shiv's godmother yet both Shiv and Roman dont really know her in the pilot- was there a prior schism? Also did not know about St Andrews, if its not a military school then do you think it adds another layer to the dog kennel story?

(2/2- sorry!) I get what you mean when you say he also coddles Roman but to me its the emotional detachment thats striking. Like in the car post-slapgate, its obvs awks from the slap but they also don't seem to have natural connection or conversation vs Logan and car scenes with the others. There's also the references to him beating Roman (not to say he didn't beat the others but its only Roman mentioned). I think in s3, his new status as fave son might bring up some old wounds for Roman.

(x)

Hey! Ooo, these are really great follow ups, thank you! I hope you don't mind me breaking them into sections!

Is it strange that Shiv and Roman don't really know Gerri well in the pilot?

It is strange, but I also think it's just the result of a few things being shuffled around post-pilot. Pilots are usually shot months if not a whole year before the first season is as the point of them is to sell the network on the show. In that sense, they're effectively proof-of-concept tools and so it's common for things to change. I'm not sure if you're a crossover anon, haha, but I talk a lot about Good Girls as well, and the pilot of that even had a completely different lead actress they had to do re-shoots around for 1.01.

Jesse Armstrong, the Succession showrunner, has said that a few things were shuffled around after the pilot – one of the biggest things for instance is that Roman wears a wedding ring in the pilot and Grace is supposed to be his wife (she's even listed as Grace Roy in 1.01 on IMDB!) and Isla their daughter together. They changed that after the pilot though because they thought it worked better with Grace as just his girlfriend, and Isla as Grace's daughter, not his.

I think Gerri's role in the show really bulked up between the pilot and episode 2, and that's why there's more distance between the Roy kids and Gerri in the first couple of episodes than there is later in the season. Gosh, even the fact that she's not at Logan's 80th birthday party in the pilot feels so weird now with how much they've shifted her role in the family, haha.

Rest of the answers under the cut!

Does St. Andrew's not being a military school when Roman attended add another layer to the dog kennel plot?

Yeah, I think it does, but I also think more than anything, it's reiterating what's already there. That entire subplot is really steeped in how Kendall, Roman and Connor all have different memories of this same game. For Roman it's formative, for Kendall it's just a memory of a childish game, and for Connor, it's seen as through older eyes and, more than anything, an insight into their father, not an insight into Roman and Kendall.

In a lot of ways, Roman stressing that St Andrew's was a military school when it wasn't undermines his own memory of the game, just as Connor telling him it wasn't dogfood it was chocolate cake does, just as Connor telling him he asked to be sent away does. Does that make it any less real for Roman? I don't think so. It's obviously something he's remembered as traumatic, and it resulted in a very real, tangible removal of him from Manhattan, where Kendall and Shiv stayed and went to school. Regardless of whether or not it was military school, it was a boarding school, and I think that feeling of distance and isolation was likely very real.

I'm really curious though about Connor's different stories to Kendall and Roman. He tells Roman that he asked to be sent away, and Kendall that their dad sent Roman because you separate fighting dogs and you send the weak one away so that everyone knows the hierarchy. The interesting thing though to me is that I think Connor was telling the truth in both instances, but the former does make the latter read differently.

If Roman wanted to go, it undermines Connor's memory of Logan, because Logan was not only giving Roman what he wanted, but he was giving Roman greater freedom, greater independence, greater agency at an outdoorsy boarding school that wasn't actually a military school at all. So does that mean that Logan saw Roman as the weak dog, or Kendall? Who he kept close and on a short leash in the comfort of home?

Kendall obviously takes Connor at his word, but I'm not so sure that we're supposed to as an audience. I think the story can be read in a lot of different ways, and more than anything, I think it can be read as Logan understanding that Kendall and Roman were not (and are not) the same, and needed different things as children. How that can be spun though is anyone's guess.

Are Logan and Roman emotionally distant?

That's an interesting point about the emotional distance there. I think there is and there isn't? Logan obviously dotes on Shiv and pendulums between coddling, controlling and bullying Kendall, but I think both of those things are more just indicative of really different dynamics. Roman's clearly got a 'class clown' sort of personality that Logan obviously doesn't appreciate and struggles to deal with, particularly given he's a pretty humourless guy (gosh, I think a lot about the fact that one of the only times we've seen Logan actually laugh was when the kids didn't want to see their mum, haha).

In that sense though, I think Logan doesn't understand Roman. It comes back to what I said in the other post – I actually do think Logan sees Roman's strengths, and the fact that Roman doesn't utilise them is, I think to Logan, unforgivable. Logan had to claw his way out of abject poverty through whatever it was he could get, and while Shiv, Kendall and Connor lack, I think Logan looks at Roman and sees waste.

It's why he doesn't have a stomach for the jokes, or the immaturity, and I think contributes to this failure to connect emotionally because he doesn't understand Roman in the way that he understands Shiv's rebellion and Kendall's foibles.

The aftermath of him hitting Roman is interesting too, because I actually think Logan's not trying to create distance in the aftermath, I think he's trying to re-write history to preserve his sense of self. He offers the untruth to Roman as an opening – a map for them to navigate unstable and uncertain terrain, and Roman takes it and follows his lead because he doesn't know how to navigate it either.

Does that make it right or forgiveable? Absolutely not – Logan hit his son, and trying to make everyone pretend that that never happened is an awful example of gaslighting – but I also find it really indicative of the cycle of abuse. We know that Noah was horrifically abusive to Logan, as seen by the scars on his back, and I actually get the impression that Logan tried not to be abusive to his children, but sometimes was because of his temper and his health.

Like, I think when he struck Iverson in the thanksgiving ep it was the first time he'd ever raised a hand to one of his grandchildren, especially given the reaction of people, and even hitting Roman summoned a pretty huge reaction from people, and seemed not to be something Roman was prepared for. It also I think stems back to that point of Logan not knowing how to handle Roman (or Iverson!) and resorting to violence he very quickly regrets because for a man who runs the news, he very rarely utilises words.

Logan was raised in violence, and I think it's a language he's both fluent in and has tried to reject, but one he falls back on when he can no longer communicate.

It's wrong, and awful, of course, but I think it's really interesting because I think it's deliberately a part of this broader theme with the Roy's about how fractured their communication with one another is. They don't know how to connect or talk to each other, and so frequently that breaks down into violence, whether to each other or themselves or to the collateral damage - the NRPIs.

I totally agree though that I think some Thoughts around all of this is likely to resurface for Roman in season 3, especially as Logan no doubt starts to lean on him as the new heir.

#these were v meaty questions to answer haha #i've been thinking sooo much about the communication on this show it's f.a.s.c.i.n.a.t.i.n.g.#roman roy #logan roy #logan + roman #gerri kellman #kendall roy #connor roy #shiv roy #hbo succession #succession 1.08 #succession 2.06 #welcome to my ama

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nightwingmyboi · 4 years ago

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Sorry if you answered this already, but your meta about Talon!Dick made me think of this: which "origin" for Dick leaving the Robin mantle do you prefer? I personally like it when it's 100% separate from Bruce and Dick just tells the Titans that he's trying to separate himself from the role of a sidekick (because like the whole Talon debacle, it's boring when DC makes everything about the Robins be actually about Bruce 🙄)

Yeah, I feel you. I prefer Dick leaving Robin to be his own choice, especially because he put so much of himself into the mantle: his mother’s name, his family’s colors, etc. Dick deserved the right to move on from that in his own time and way, without Bruce sticking his nose in like always. In a perfect world, it would have gone down that way certainly.

But unfortunately, that Pre-Crisis version of events, where Dick’s choice and agency were respected, hasn’t been canon since 1987. And the harsher version of events didn’t exist in a vacuum; in the 30 years of comics that followed this retcon, Dick being fired had (and to me, continues to have) a pretty significant effect on Dick and his relationships.

Dick’s relationships

Obviously, Bruce firing Dick had long term effects on their own relationship, to the extent that Dick remained estranged for years, wasn’t adopted by Bruce until he was an adult, so on and so forth. What I’ve seen people ignore is how much Dick being fired also shaped his relationships with Jason and even Tim to an extent.

See, the version of events where Dick is fired actually occur in the exact same issue that Jason Todd is first introduced. The comic began with Dick getting shot and fired:

Batman (1940) #408

And it ended with Jason taking the tires off the Batmobile:

Batman (1940) #408

So, Dick being fired and Jason being taken in are linked; one event didn’t happen without the other. In fact, Dick being fired is what directly lead into Jason being adopted. In addition, Dick not being around for Jason when he is younger is also specifically the result of Dick being estranged from Bruce during that period of time.

Yet, in the version of events where Dick gave up Robin of his own volition, Dick was so charmed by “Jason” (and I put that in quotations because that version of Jason was literally a circus performer from the Flying Todds, not at all the Jason we are familiar with), that Dick nearly adopted Jason himself. Dick chose to pass Robin on to circus performer Jason Todd.

Batman (1940) #368

And they had great respect for one another. So, if Dick had chosen to move on from Robin, instead of being fired, Dick and Jason would also have likely been close (and Jason would be from the circus also?). But, that’s not remotely how things are in canon; to this day, Dick and Jason continue to have a strained relationship with one another. And this complicated dynamic is nearly a direct result of Dick being estranged, and thus not being there to form a positive relationship with Jason when he was younger. So, Dick being fired is necessary context for Jason and Dick’s relationship.

In addition, it’s only because Dick and Bruce’s relationship is so strained, that the times that Dick went to comfort Bruce in the aftermath of Jason’s death ended so poorly.

The New Titans (1988) #55

If you look through the whole conversation, you'll see that the much of it revolves around the fact that Dick wasn’t there for Jason (and Bruce)...“I didn’t expect to see you again” “You weren’t at the funeral” “Are you blaming me? I left, so Jason replaced me, and because I left he died?” “In a few years, I would have had to fire him as I did you” “Why are you pretending to be concerned about Jason? You told me you resented it that I adopted him and not you.”...the conversation can’t even stay on track because the hard feelings that already existed between Batman and Dick got in the way. And why do these hard feelings exist...? Because Bruce fired Dick and thus pushed him away.

Without the firing taking place, it’s likely that Dick would have still had a strong relationship with Bruce, strong enough that his comfort and support would have been accepted rather than rejected. But, because Dick is estranged, it’s necessary that Tim intervene. So, Tim’s initial introduction as a character also hinges on Dick being fired, estranged, and largely out of the picture.

Dick’s character

And Bruce’s decision also had a big effect on Dick himself. The weight of Batman’s expectations was always something that Dick carried with him, true. But, after Dick was fired, he was written to be particularly concerned with proving himself to Bruce. Dick believing that Bruce didn’t think he was good enough became a more consistent theme in his internal narrative; Dick began to believe that Bruce didn’t think he is good enough, largely because that’s pretty much what Batman tells him when firing him:

Batman (1940) #408

Batman (1940) #416

Despite the many years Dick spent fighting crime at Batman’s side, Batman fires him, dismisses their previous success as luck, and makes it clear he views Dick as a child--as a burden--rather than a partner, a capable hero in his own right. The whole speech is patronizing and dismissive.

So, Dick has valid concerns about not measuring up to Bruce’s expectations, because, at one point, he seemingly didn’t and, as a result of this apparent failure, was all but pushed from Bruce’s life for years. Dick’s insecurity about his place in Bruce’s life, his (at times) near obsessive drive to prove himself to Batman, his tendency to not ask for help when he should (because Dick can’t need help, he should be able to do things on his own because that’s what Batman would expect), all of these little idiosyncrasies that have become apart of Dick’s character, apart of what drives him...it all stems from Dick being fired and being told by the person he most values and wants to impress that he wasn’t good enough.

To me, pretending that Dick wasn’t fired doesn’t make a ton of sense, even if it stinks that Dick’s choices were taken away. Dick is still dealing with the effects of being fired in comic books today; it feels wrong to ignore that. I’d much rather people acknowledge that it all happened, instead of acting like it’s “just a retcon.” Because at this point, it feels like Dick’s stuck dealing with all the negative fallout of being fired, while not actually being allowed any sort of acknowledgement or comfort or apology about it.

#thanks for reading that extremely long talon meta lmao!#and thanks for the ask!#ask #dick grayson #bruce wayne #batman #nightwing #robin #jason todd #robin ii #robin iii #tim drake #joker #meta #character analysis #long post

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knightlybutch · 4 years ago

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mage, unicorn, dragon, bard

and from another anon- “ Mage, unicorn, and dragon for the asks 💚💚💚 “

thank you, both of you! <3

mage: do you feel more drawn to air, water, earth, or fire?

i’m unsure/i feel drawn to all! i love the sky, and warm breezy weather is my favorite. i often will stretch out my arms like wings to feel the wind, and i’ll take any chance to feel like i’m flying on rides. i’ve always been fascinated by water, how alive it seems, and how it holds so much life in it and sustains people and animals. i love the smell of the ocean, and i love exploring near rivers. earth is.. maybe what i least feel drawn to, but it’s still interesting. it gives stability, but it also changes. there is so much history in every handful of soil. fire, like water, feels alive to me, and i adore its duality- it is creation and destruction, nurturing warmth and destructive infernos. the smell of smoke has always been one of my favorites, it feels almost sacred.

unicorn: have you had any moments that felt almost magical? describe one!

i saw an aurora on the night of my birthday (i think my 12th or 13th), and it felt... very special, like it held a great deal of personal meaning. it felt like affection and reassurance, it felt like i wasn’t alone.

dragon: do you collect anything? if so, what?

yes! i primarily collect stuffed animals and keychains! also dragon themed items in general. arguably ties and books as well...? hehe. i’d like to get a collection of pretty rocks started, if i can find a place for them. i don’t know if this counts, really, but i like trying to have all the skins for my favorite video game characters, i find it comforting.

bard: talk about a song that’s been on your mind a lot recently.

hmm. i’ve been listening to stillness in woe a lot recently...? it’s lovely, with neat lyrics and sound. though as far as more consistently on my mind...i suppose my mind keeps going back to woodkid’s latest album, s16. reactor is one of the most haunting ones to me, with expressive vocals, use of instruments, and gut-wrenching lyrics. “i still love you and i’m running out of words / [...] nothing ever stays undivided / [...] i see you in the eye of jupiter, lost in the light of our failure / i thought i was the only one and the first / but no space in your arms is made for my nature”... it gets to me.

#also in your likeness from the same album is. ow.#the raw vulnerability as he sings ''i'm just alone and cynical... but i will never not need you''#</3 #asks #ty again!#Anonymous

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shipmistress9 · 5 years ago

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FTLOAP: Chapter 46: I’ll Make It Up To You

Fandom: HTTYD

Theme: Hiccstrid - Medieval-style AU - Romance - Angst/Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Reduced to little more than a stable boy, Hiccup, despite his noble birth, has few prospects for more in life. But when he meets a girl who came to look at the horses, being a stable boy might not be enough anymore. Together, they have tough choices to make and great risks to navigate if they want to survive and be together.

Rating: Explicit

FF-net - AO3 -

Discord-server for discussions and questions

Part 1: Prologue; Chapter 1; Chapter 2; Chapter 3; Chapter 4; Chapter 5; Chapter 6; Chapter 7; Chapter 8; Chapter 9; Chapter 10; Chapter 11;

Part 2: Chapter 12; Chapter 13; Chapter 14; Interlude 1; Chapter 15; Chapter 16; Chapter 17; Chapter 18; Chapter 19; Chapter 20; Chapter 21; Chapter 22; Chapter 23; Chapter 24; Chapter 25; Chapter 26; Interlude 2; Chapter 27: Chapter 28 ; Chapter 29 ; Chapter 30; Chapter 31; Chapter 32; Interlude 3; Bonus 1; Chapter 33

Part 3: Chapter 34; Chapter 35; Chapter 36; Interlude 4; Chapter 37; Chapter 38; Chapter 39; Chapter 40; Interlude 5; Chapter 41; Chapter 42; Chapter 43; Chapter 44, Chapter 45

Alpha/Co-author: @athingofvikings

Taglist: @drchee5e @hey-its-laura-again @thepixiedustfactory

. – * – _ . o O o . _ – * – .

AN: Yay, finally a new chapter! ^^ I'm truly sorry that I couldn't finish this as announced in November. But my daughter decided to come a little earlier than expected, throwing off many of our plans... We're both doing fine though. :)

This chapter... Is, for the most part, self-indulgent fluff. I hope you won't mind. ;) But there's also another bit, one I know many of you have been waiting for since forever. ;) The title comes, again, from an Imagine Dragons song, 'I'll make it up to you' this time. It's a rather fitting song for Hiccup right now, don't you think?

. o O o .

After their long discussion about how County Ravenledge could be claimed and improved, Astrid and the others having left, Hiccup was left with a chaotic whirlwind of emotions.

On the one hand, he was excited and elated by this apparently simple and direct solution to their problems. They had a plan, and if everything worked out, there was nothing in the way of him and Astrid being together. It would be a difficult path to follow, for sure, with the overwhelming prospect of ruling an entire county of people whose culture and customs he hardly knew. It was more than a bit intimidating, the more he thought about it, especially given the conditions of the place. But if that was what the Gods demanded of him, then he would do it.

But on the other hand... he was anxious, so much so that his hands wouldn’t stop clenching nervously, no matter what he did to distract himself. Eret, Dagur, and even Astrid seemed convinced that Grand Duke Oswald and the King would agree to give him the title without much resistance, but in the privacy of his own thoughts, he wasn’t so sure about that. Those powerful men knew about his life, knew enough to know how much of a failure he was, in pretty much every aspect. Why would they agree to support him so openly?

It wasn’t as if they could win anything out of this, could they?

Later, as he helped Eret get out of the elaborate and dust-and-sweat-fouled day-clothes he was wearing, he couldn’t keep from asking the question which had buzzed in his mind like a bee. “Why are you doing all this for us?”

With a pained groan, Eret laid back on his bed as Hiccup brought the bowl of warm water over from the hearth. It was essential to keep the wound on Eret’s chest as clean as possible, and since it was difficult for Eret to do so himself, it was Hiccup’s responsibility to help him. “What do you mean?” he replied, sounding puzzled and tired after a long exhausting day.

“Everything,” Hiccup said after a short pause, shrugging. “I understand that you care for Astrid and want to see her happy. But all this goes far beyond that. Supporting me in this… You know as well as I do how that could backfire and weaken you, politically I mean. So… why?”

The plan was that Astrid, Dagur, and Eret would speak with their fathers in the morning, during or possibly even before their common breakfast. It made sense, of course; it was better to wait until then instead of approaching them now in the middle of the night and dealing with them while they were grumpy. They’d talked for a long while and by now, half the castle had to be asleep already. But waiting until the morning to get the confirmation was hard. And even though Hiccup knew that Eret might have his own reasons for supporting him, reasons that wouldn’t necessarily convince the most powerful men and leaders of the Kingdom, he still hoped that his answer would ease his mind at least a little bit.

Eret chuckled, interrupted by the occasional wince as Hiccup cleaned the area around the cut on his chest. “Two reasons,” he eventually replied. “First: I know you. And I trust you. We trust you. You’re a good man, Hiccup, honest, reliable, and diligent. You’re going to be a good leader to those battered people. As Dagur said, it’ll take time. But I’m sure that, under your leadership, County Ravenledge and its people can thrive again. So supporting you is definitely not a waste of time or effort. It’s for the good of the people, and that’s what our main interest should be, right?”

Hiccup nodded, inwardly hoping that he could live up to this trust, these expectations. “And… the second reason?” he asked cautiously.

Eret sighed, his eyes falling closed. “The second reason is that we know only too well how it is to love without hope. Dag and I… we knew right from the start that our love had no future. We were prepared. But even though we always knew our time would be limited… Actually having it come to an end with the wedding just… just hurt! And even though we’ve got a reprieve of some sort now, we know it’ll end someday. Just thinking about it is driving me insane.” He paused and took a deep breath before letting it out again. “For you, it’s different though… for you, there’s hope. It might be a slim hope and the road to reach it will be hard, but it’s possible. So we want to help you in whatever way we can, simply because that is something we can do.”

Hiccup nodded again, putting the water away and handing Eret a piece of cloth to dry himself up. “Thank you,” he murmured. It was far too little to convey the gratitude he felt, but it was all he could come up with.

However, it seemed to be enough for Eret. “Anytime,” he replied in a light voice. “But now, you better leave. Tuff should be here any minute now. And I want to say ‘Have a good night’, but... but I’d rather it not get too good if you know what I mean, so…”

Hiccup was incredibly glad that he wasn’t facing Eret at the moment, that he wouldn’t notice the blush on his face. “Don’t worry,” he mumbled awkwardly. “I won’t risk losing her again.”

He hadn’t meant to say those last words out loud; they’d slipped off his lips before he’d been able to think about it. And, as expected, there was a confused frown on his cousin’s face when he turned back to face him. But since he didn’t ask, Hiccup didn’t feel obliged to explain himself and quickly changed the topic. “Is there anything else you need? Before I leave, I mean?”

Still frowning, Eret shook his head, so Hiccup quickly bid him good night and left the elaborate bedchamber.

Once the door closed behind him, Hiccup exhaled deeply. Eret’s brief explanation had soothed him, but only a little. His reasons were understandable enough, and Hiccup wanted to believe that, if the situation was reversed, he and Astrid would also do whatever they could to make it possible for Eret and Dagur to stay together. And as for the other reason… He could only hope that Eret was right and that he would be able to provide a better life for the people of Ravenledge one day.

If he even got the chance to try.

He’d been right, Eret hadn’t been able to provide him with the answer he longed for, but at least his words had settled his anxiety to a bearable level. But that helped to ease his chaotic emotions only so much. Because the excitement and anxiety over their plan had only been part of his emotional turmoil. The question about what the months and years to come would bring them was certainly important, but right now, the more immediate future was a little more pressing to him.

He’d promised Eret that there was no reason to be worried and he was dead set on keeping this promise, to Eret and to himself alike. But there were more facets to that promise than Eret thought.

Sticking to what Eret was concerned about and not having sex with Astrid until they were truly married wouldn’t be a problem. They’d managed relatively well so far, and the prospect of not having to wait two more years but only a couple of weeks would make holding out even easier. Theoretically, at least.

Practically though, just thinking about tonight – and if it worked as planned the following nights as well – made his entire body tingle in anticipation. Hours of being alone with Astrid, of being free to kiss and to hold her... Gods, how he missed feeling her soft body against his own, his hands exploring her, tasting her lips and her skin, listening to–

With a low groan, he shook his head, chasing those thoughts away. He couldn’t– no, mustn’t indulge in those fantasies! “Just a few weeks,” he reminded himself in a low whisper, biting his lip in the hope that the pain might help him focus. He had no confirmation of his fears on this matter, no certainty that their getting intimate before had somehow caused their separation. But he also couldn’t shake off the suspicion that that might have been the reason, that his overconfidence had angered the Gods and the temporary separation had been a warning. And he wouldn’t risk losing her again! Even if it meant going weeks or maybe even months without touching her like he wanted to – he would take that unresolved longing over possibly losing her forever at any time. He just hoped Astrid would understand his reticence.

Because on top of everything else, there was one other aspect that might make keeping his promise to Eret a little more complicated. Knowing Astrid, Hiccup suspected that she was going to disagree with him on this point, but he just knew that it was his fault she’d been through so much pain during the past weeks. If he hadn’t been so stupid, hadn’t given up too soon, hadn’t given in to his longing for her in the first place…

Sighing, he shook his head. No matter how much he wished it were otherwise, he couldn’t undo the past. But he was going to do everything to keep any more pain away from her from now on. And furthermore, it meant that he’d do everything she asked for, that he would follow her every wish. To make it up to her.

He was aware of the possible contradiction of these two urges, and his thoughts were still running in circles when Tuff appeared behind one of the elaborate tapestries a little while later. Hiccup rose as he silently beckoned him to follow. Just as Ruff had said, the passage was narrow and clearly didn’t get used regularly, with dust and cobwebs everywhere. But Hiccup didn’t pay much attention to the condition of the space, nervousness and anticipation settling in his stomach. At the end of this walk, he would see her again, be alone with her. And while he was unquestionably looking forward to it, his breath coming fast and even his bad leg moving without complaint in the cramped passageway, there was the point that, as so often before, the night would be a tough balancing act between what he wanted to do and what he had to do.

. o O o .

Agitatedly chewing on her lower lip, Astrid sat at the edge of her bed, her eyes glued to the door. Any minute now, Ruff would lead Hiccup in here. It wouldn't be long anymore, she knew that. But still, every single second of waiting felt like an eternity.

Gods, she was such a mess.

Ever since she’d overheard the Grand Dukes’ conversation earlier that day, all her thoughts had circled around County Ravenledge and how this could be the solution to their problem. But now that she’d presented this idea to Hiccup and their friends and they’d agreed on a plan, practical reality was catching up with her again.

She and Hiccup would spend the entire night together, and in contrast to that night after the ball where she’d fallen asleep in his arms, this time they wouldn’t be too exhausted to do… whatever they wanted to do. The thought made her heart beat faster and she balled her hands into fists to keep them from trembling, crumpling the blanket and her nightgown in the process. Gods, why was she so nervous? This wasn’t the first night she spent alone with him, after all.

But no, she wasn’t nervous. She was excited. And it was because she’d been with Hiccup before that she was so looking forward to this, couldn’t wait for him to finally be here.

What would the night bring?

Would this night be a loving reunion after these painful weeks, with slow caresses and exploring each other anew? She could picture it, softly entangled between the sheets of her bed, celebrating their love until the sun rose again.

Or would they jump right back to how it had been before, heated passionate kisses without preamble? She wouldn’t mind that either. Oh, how she longed for his touch and to feel again the exhilaration only he could bring her.

But maybe… maybe they would continue where they’d stopped more directly. If Hiccup remembered to bring that pot of scented oil, then… She sucked in a quick breath and bit down on her already slightly swollen lip to keep herself from moaning. All too well she remembered how it had felt to have his fingers inside her. Would he insist on preparing her again for tomorrow night or could they… jump right in? Heat rose to her cheeks, and she wondered whether she could manage to stay a little quieter or what Ruff and Tuff would say in the morning.

Although… there also was another option. Not that she expected this night to go that way, no certainly not. But maybe… it was a possibility, wasn’t it? Now that the solution for their problem was within reach, maybe they could even go a step further. They would be married in a few weeks – she vehemently refused to entertain the possibility that it could be otherwise. The date for her wedding was set, irrevocably. Nothing would delay or prevent that, her father had made that clear. Was that also true if an inspection by one of Freya’s Gythias revealed that her maidenhead was broken already? That could have happened at any time, during that accident on the ride for example. Or when she vowed to Fyrir Gothi herself that she’d never been intimate with anyone but Hiccup, her husband-to-be? That could work, couldn’t it? Nobody would want to risk a scandal, after all. So even if she fell pregnant tonight… that wouldn’t really matter, would it?

Astrid’s blood was boiling hotter and her throat went dry at that idea, her vision becoming a little blurry. Gods, why wasn’t Hiccup here already?

In the next moment, she nearly fell off her bed, her heart jumping into her throat and beating furiously, when a knock came from the door. Hastily, she scrambled to her feet, bare on the plush carpet, and called for Ruff to come in.

“Tuff brought something for you,” Ruff announced, smirking when she noticed Astrid’s state, and stepped aside to allow Hiccup behind her to enter. “I’d say I wish you a good night… but–”

“But I’d like to sleep for once,” came Tuff’s voice from somewhere behind her. It made Astrid blush even harder.

Snickering, Ruff shrugged. “There you go. See you two in the morning.” And with those words, she left, pulling the door closed behind her – and leaving Astrid and Hiccup alone in her bedroom.

A heavy silence fell over them, only interrupted by their audible breathing. This was truly happening. Hiccup was here, in her bedroom! A place where – except for the occasional exception of a healer or her actual brother – nobody but Ruff was allowed. Not even Tuff would enter this room without a damn good reason. And now, she was alone here with Hiccup, with the man she loved, the man she was going to marry. The man whose touch and closeness she craved beyond anything else.

And they had all night…

. o O o .

Hiccup barely noticed how the door closed behind Astrid’s maidservant. His head was entirely empty, wiped clean since the moment he’d entered. He’d expected that spending the night with Astrid would be intense, but just being here was so much more than he’d anticipated. This room, so personal with pictures and decorations that just screamed Astrid, the bed, so big and inviting, and Astrid herself, hair loosely bound in her usual nighttime braid and dressed in only a thin night shift – it all made for an incredibly heady atmosphere.

“Hey,” Astrid eventually breathed a little shyly after he’d done nothing but stare at her for... he couldn’t say how long. Long enough, probably.

“Hey.” Swallowing hard, Hiccup managed to reply in the same manner. If she’d hoped for more of a reaction though, he couldn’t help but disappoint her, unable to form coherent thoughts or even to move. His eyes lingered where they shouldn’t, on her parted lips, plush and inviting, begging him to kiss them, and on the curves of her breasts and hips barely hidden by the thin fabric around her.

Freya, how much he wanted her…

His mouth went dry, even swallowing again and licking his lips to wet them not helping in the slightest. He still knew he couldn’t let anything happen, not for real. But it was nigh on impossible to remember that when she slowly came closer, bright eyes filled with warmth and longing holding him hostage.

When she stretched to kiss him, her lips on his felt so soft, somehow softer even than only hours before or during the one night they'd spent together on Eret's couch. They drew a low groan from somewhere deep in his chest, and without his doing, his hands curled around her waist, pulling her closer. Her response robbed him of the last shred of coherence when her hands grabbed at his hair, fingernails scraping, and she tilted her head to deepen their kiss.

Hiccup momentarily lost track of everything. All that mattered was the feeling of her lips, the taste of her skin as his mouth wandered down her neck, and the lovely sound of her gasping his name into his ear, silk and lace bunched up between his fingers as he hurled her closer still. Gods, he'd missed this so much, this closeness and heat, the intimacy of reconnecting with the missing part of his soul, with her, and it felt so completely right.

How couldn’t it be right?

Somewhere in the back of his mind, a small voice was warning him, but it got lost in the flood of sensation she elicited when she gently but determinedly tugged him along. His thighs hit the edge of her bed and without really noticing he kicked off his shoes before they both tumbled onto the soft mattress.

It was all just a blur. They rolled around on the bed until she lay beneath him, her lithe body tight against his and her hand tugging at him until he was where she wanted him. Her hands were everywhere, in his hair, running down his sides, clutching at his back while her lips stole every coherent thought from his mind.

Hiccup shook with desire, her touches sending sparks like lightning strikes through his entire body. Heat pooled in his lower belly, so close to where he could feel her against him. Resisting her was impossible.

Astrid uttered the softest moans when his hands roamed over her body in return, making his head spin and the thin fabric wasn’t enough to keep him from feeling her inviting warmth. He couldn't get enough, was addicted to every noise and every sensation, now after their separation even more so than before. Leaning down, his mouth wandered down her neck, kissing and tasting her, feeling her heartbeat pulsing against his tongue.

A shudder ran through his body when he felt her touch on his bare back beneath his tunic, not hesitant at all where fingers dug into scarred skin. It reminded him of how scared he’d once been of how she would react to his mangled body, to the signs of his failures, and of how much he trusted her now.

But the reminder also brought a brief moment of clarity to his mind, making him realise what they were doing. He lay on top of Astrid on her bed, with her thin night shift making a poor job at covering her body – especially with the skirt bunched up somewhere around her hips and the neckline nearly dropping off her shoulders. With the way she gazed up at him through dazed eyes and that pink flush on her cheeks, she looked breathtakingly beautiful, almost agonizingly. All he wanted at that moment was to give in, to feel her eager touch on his skin, to let her take off his tunic like she was trying just now, and to not care about the consequences.

But he did care, and greatly so.

"No," Hiccup gasped, fighting to keep his clarity of mind and not give in to her oh so tempting touch. He shook his head as if to clear it and then rolled off her with a groan, hands moving to cover his face. "No, no, we can't… mustn't… no…"

Gods, he was an idiot! Why had he let it come this far when he’d known to be wary of the temptation? With brutal force, he pulled up the memory of how she’d looked when he’d left her standing in the armoury, of all the pain he’d put her through. No matter how sweet her skin tasted on his tongue, it wasn’t worth risking her being in such pain again.

Although, it might be too late already. He clearly remembered the pain and confusion on her face whenever he’d pulled away from her before, her insecurities and fear of rejection. Why, oh why, hadn’t he resisted right from the start? If he’d only kissed her without getting carried away and explained himself right away… But he hadn’t resisted, had given in to his desire so readily, and now, he’d done it again, had–

“What is it?”

Her voice pulled him out of his whirling thoughts like nothing else could.

He’d expected her to be disappointed and hurt, but there was none of that. Instead, she sounded mostly calm and even a little curious, throwing him off track completely.

Gulping, he lowered his hands, his eyes finding hers in an instant. They were big, her pupils dilated, and there was a distinct flush on her cheeks, her breath coming a little faster than was normal. But aside from those obvious signs of arousal, she seemed surprisingly composed.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered. “I didn’t mean to… to hurt you or reject you.”

“I know you didn’t,” she replied, her expression turning soft but also a little sad as her eyes dropped back to his lips for a heartbeat.

Hiccup swallowed again and sat up, turning around to better look at hero better talk to her. “You-you’re not… upset? That I wouldn’t...” Breaking off, he only nodded at her, her bare shoulders and neck so alluring that it was hard to even look at her.

Unintentionally taunting him further, she took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling with it, before she sat up as well. It made her shift slip even further down her arm, but she caught it before it could slip off completely and pulled it back up over her shoulder when she noticed him staring at exposed skin. When he looked up at her face again, she was smiling softly, her eyes gleaming.

“Hiccup, I know that you would never hurt me,” she said, that soft smile becoming even more beautiful somehow. “And I… I trust you, you know? In you and in our feelings, in our bond and our fate. Nothing will ever separate us again.” She frowned as if looking for the right words. “It’s… it sounds silly, I guess. Cocky. But I know that you... want me. There were times where I worried, yes, but those are over. So, if you refuse to touch me now… well, then I know it’s not because you don’t want to. I trust that you have a reason, something I just don’t get yet. But I also know that… I know that I can ask you everything. That I don’t need to be afraid or embarrassed, not ever. So… what is it?”

Hiccup could only gaze at her in awe, lips parting but unable to come up with a response. By the Gods, she was perfect! Once again he wondered what he’d done to deserve having her in his life.

Instead of answering, he leaned in and kissed her again. Maybe that wasn’t the wisest thing to do given how much his heart was still racing from their heated kiss only moments before. But he was more careful now, the kiss more controlled this time, fueled by gratitude and love instead of desire as he lifted his hand to cradle her face. She really was amazing. His thumb caressed her cheek as he ended the kiss and he instead leaned his forehead against hers. “I love you,” he whispered hoarsely.

Chuckling, Astrid retreated. “I love you too,” she replied, the warmth in her eyes almost enough to make him melt then and there. Then they lit up with a teasing spark. “But if that’s the reason why you retreated, then you’ll have to elaborate.”

Hiccup couldn't help but snort in amusement at her remark, even as he grimaced. He just hoped she would still be this understanding after he'd laid out his reasons. With a slight nod, he stood up, putting a little more space between them. He needed to explain himself and getting distracted by her closeness wouldn’t do him much good now.

"You're probably going to think I'm overreacting," he began, taking a few steps up and down her room. Casually, he looked around, taking in random details without really registering them. Doing anything just to not get distracted again. "But, this separation... Somehow, I feel like it was some kind of punishment. Or a warning maybe. I mean, sure, Cami said that what we did, getting intimate and all, wasn't against the rules. But even she can't know what the Gods really want." Hiccup paused, warily glancing over at her. But she didn't say anything, sitting at the edge of the high bed and watching him with her head cocked in confusion, so he quickly went on. "It's just… the timing, you know? Right before we were about to take that huge step and do anal sex, this… this major obstacle was thrown into our way.” Agitatedly, he threw his arms up, gesturing wildly. “And I'm having a tough time accepting that to only have been a coincidence. What if it was a sign instead? A sign that we're supposed to wait until we're truly married. Not just with actually having sex, but also with… well, with everything else.”

He could feel her disappointment now, even though she tried hard to not let it show. “Uh, okay?” she replied, a little insecurely. It was as if he could see the cogs in her head turning until she spoke again. “That’s… well, maybe you’re right, but…” She paused again, thinking, then shook her head. “I don’t think that makes much sense. I mean, it didn’t just happen because of what we did. Me getting married and all that, it had been planned for months, since just before the Midwinter ceremony.”

Hiccup nodded; she had a point, after all. But something about what she’d just said still poked at something in his mind. “Since before Midwinter?” How could she be sure about that?

“At least that’s what Eret mentioned,” she confirmed with a slight shrug. “Something about how Daniel had acted differently from one day to the other. Since that day you all went to meet Cami that first time, remember? He said that Daniel opted out of that visit at short notice and had a long talk with Father instead, and after that, his behaviour changed?”

Hiccup paled, his heart stuttering painfully. “That…” he muttered. “Gods, that’s even worse.” He took a few deep breaths to calm himself and tried to put order into his jumbling thoughts as it was clear that Astrid didn’t understand. “That night… Don’t you remember? That’s when we started. When Cami told me it would be all right to get intimate with you if we didn’t go too far and when you were waiting for me at the stables then, when we–”

“– when you made me come the first time,” she completed his sentence. There was understanding in her voice now, regret in her eyes.

He nodded again, gulping. “Exactly. And if that’s the night when your father decided to pull your wedding forward and to thwart all my plans to gain a title… Yeah, no, I really don’t believe that’s a coincidence!”

Astrid still didn’t seem convinced though. Chewing her lower lip, she slowly shook her head, thinking. “I don’t know, Hiccup. That’s just–”

“Exactly,” he interrupted her gently, stepping closer and reaching for her hand. “I don’t know either. But I’m not going to risk losing you again.”

At that, all her doubts and worries melted off her features and got replaced by something immeasurable softer. She pulled him closer and firmly intertwined her fingers with his. “You won’t lose me. Ever.”

Hiccup couldn’t help but return her soft smile, squeezing her hand but not replying directly. He wouldn’t take her or their future for granted again.

“So,” Astrid went on after a short pause, “what exactly does this mean now? Will you stay here tonight?”

Sighing, Hiccup nodded. Of course, strictly thinking even him being here and alone with her went far beyond what he should do. He should apologise to Astrid, thank her servants for their help, and leave, should not risk getting overwhelmed by temptation again. It would be the prudent thing to do. But even with all logical reasoning and pondering, there were things he simply couldn’t do – and staying away from Astrid was one of them.

“Yes, I will. I don’t know anymore which rules apply to us, so… Well, in that vision I had, the Goddess told me that I’d have to do what comes naturally to me. So I’ll just have to trust in my own judgement, I guess. And as long as we don’t get carried away, I don’t feel like being here is wrong.”

Astrid visibly relaxed. “That’s good. Because I don’t think so either,” she replied with a breathy little chuckle, but then became serious again. “But what else does it mean? Where would you draw the line? Just… just so I know?”

She sounded so vulnerable…

Hiccup gulped, reminding himself once more of how easily he could hurt her, of the power they both had over each other. He raised his hand to brush a strand of hair out of her face, caressing her soft skin as gently as he could. “I think this is all right,” he murmured, leaning closer. “And this, too.”

His lips brushed over hers and she hummed, mouth twitching into a smile as his tongue poked out to taste her. Slowly, almost despite himself, his hand rose to cup the back of her head, pulling her closer again, deeper into their kiss. Astrid responded with a happy sigh, lips parting to welcome him.

Quickly, the kiss grew firmer, more heated with breathless groans, tongues swirling, and teeth nipping at soft lips. Hiccup trembled with repressed desire; she was just so wonderful, perfect, everything. But he was careful this time, making sure that his hands stayed near her head, dropping only to her neck and shoulders and not lower. He could feel that Astrid wanted more, wanted to melt against him, to touch him, and he greatly appreciated that she held back nonetheless. His ability to resist temptation only reached so far.

When he pulled back again, there was a warm glow in her eyes, something that hadn’t been there just a minute ago but which he felt, too. After the months of exploring each other before her birthday, sticking to only rather innocent kisses like this one felt like not enough. But at the same time… it was enough. The closeness and assurance were all they needed, for now at least. Everything else would come back to them over time.

“Yes, I think it’s okay for me to be here,” he repeated, his voice a little rougher than before. “It’s okay for us to kiss, to cuddle, and to hold each other through the night.”

She nodded and he pulled her closer into his arms, just as she leaned against him too, not resisting when she guided them to lie down again. It wasn’t so they could continue to make out, so it was all right. And it felt so good to hold her like this again! His nose was in her hair, drowning him in that subtle scent of mayweed he’d missed so much, and his arm lightly rested around her waist, her warmth against his chest. He wouldn’t have minded spending the rest of the night like this.

“I missed this,” she whispered after a while. “This closeness, feeling you, and…”

She trailed off, squirming a little in his embrace. It made her rub against him in an incredibly enticing way, and with a small grunt, his hold around her waist tightened, keeping her still. Gods, he wanted…

He could feel how she actively restrained herself, almost trembling beneath his hands with the effort of keeping herself from moving further. “I’m sorry,” she chuckled, embarrassed. “I just… well, I’d hope we… that…” She broke off, biting her lip. Then she sighed. “But it’s... it’s okay. I understand. I think. And it’s only a few more weeks.” She turned her head to look up at him, smiling. “I can wait that long.”

Hiccup’s breath caught in his throat. Lying beneath him with that smile on her face, strands of her golden hair all around her on the pillow, illuminated only by the flickering light of the lantern, and with soft understanding glowing in her eyes… Gods, she was so beautiful, inside and out, irresistible. Almost.

“I’m sorry, too,” he murmured. “For disappointing you and–”

“Hush!” Astrid placed her hand over his lips. “You didn’t. It’s fine.”

Sighing, he closed his eyes and kissed her fingers, softly. It made her giggle, and when she pulled them back again after a minute, he opened his eyes again to look at her. “I love you, Astrid. And… and I promise to make it up to you.” He hesitated for a moment, taking a deep breath, but then brought his mouth to her ear, his hand caressing her neck. “Every night, I’ll make it up to you, I swear…”

Astrid’s breath hitched, and for a heartbeat, Hiccup considered stretching his own rules a little, just once. Just letting his hand glide down her barely covered body, playing with her breasts and toying with her clit, just lazily getting her off while stealing the breath from her lungs with his kisses, just this one time. And he almost did it. When she turned her head and her lips found his again, there was a moment when his resolve crumbled and nearly failed him. She clearly wanted, how could he resist her?

But then he remembered the armoury again, the pain in her eyes as he’d left her standing – and pulled away.

“Mmh, I can’t wait,” Astrid hummed, her eyes dazed and dreamy as she looked up at him, panting.

Hiccup resisted the urge to watch her chest rise and fall and instead lay down next to her again, eyes firmly on her face. She didn’t need to know how close he’d been to giving in, how much he wanted to give in.

They made themselves more comfortable and for a long while just cuddled and enjoyed each other’s company before Astrid broke the silence again. “Can I ask you something?”

Hiccup frowned. “Of course. Whatever you want.” Hadn’t she just said herself that she could ask him everything? What made her think she couldn’t ask now?

Nodding, she turned around and eyed him somewhat curiously. “It’s… well, you mentioned a few times now that you had another vision. And I was wondering what it was about. I mean, you don’t have to tell me. I had none, so this one clearly was only for you. I’m curious though and thought, maybe, you could tell me about it? Only if you think it’s okay and want to…”

Understanding sparked in his mind and his features softened. “Sure. I don’t feel like it was meant to be a secret.” He shifted into a sitting position that made it easier to talk which Astrid mimicked, leaning against his side. “I was back at that small house we both saw, in the middle of a forest,” he began, trying to remember as many details as possible. “At first, I thought it was just the same vision again, then I noticed the differences. The door wouldn’t open to reveal you, and…”

. o O o .

Over the course of about half an hour, he told her of the dream-vision the Goddess had sent him, about how he’d needed Astrid's key to open the door, the Goddess wearing her face, and what she’d said to him. He told her everything he could remember and once he’d finished, Astrid was silent for a minute or two, processing what he'd told her.

"How did you know it wasn't just an ordinary dream?" she eventually asked.

Hiccup shrugged. "I didn't," he admitted. "Not right away. I spent the entire night and most of the following day pondering. I’d been so convinced that… that there was no hope left for us. But the night before, I’d talked to Cami and she’d said something that made me hope again, even as that wasn’t how she’d meant it. She’d said that, if we really were connected by a true soulbond, then not even the meddling of a King could separate us. She’d tried to convince me that our bond couldn’t be real because you would marry Eret, that I should let you go and move on... But I couldn’t shake off the thought that it also could mean something else, that nothing can ever separate us, not even your father. Because no matter what she said, I knew that our bond had been real. Is real.” He let his hand drop to her chest, and for once it was easy to ignore how close he was to touching her in a way he mustn’t do. Their bond was more meaningful than any physical aspects of their relationship.

“When I had that dream then…,” he went on. “You’re right, I couldn’t be sure whether it had been only a dream or not, and I spent the rest of the night and most of the following day thinking about it. What it could mean, whether I really was supposed to kill someone or whether that’s just been some imaginary task born from my desperation. I just couldn’t be sure, not… not until your accident and Markor…”

Astrid froze at his words, and he winced when she inhaled sharply, understanding what he was talking about.

“I’m sorry.” He wasn’t sure what exactly he was apologising for, ending Markor’s life or bringing up his death in the first place. Both in a way. She hadn’t brought that topic up so far, but he could imagine how much losing Markor must have hurt her. And Hiccup literally had his blood on his hands, the image of red sticking to his skin etched forever into his mind.

She nodded, shifting closer and eagerly leaned against him when he hesitantly opened his arms and offered a comforting hug. “It’s okay,” she mumbled after a while. “Not that he’s… but I’m okay. You couldn’t have changed anything of what happened and… What I mean is… I don’t blame you, you know? On the contrary, I’ll never forget him and I have you to thank for that.”

She nodded to the side of the bed and Hiccup spotted the wooden horse he’d given her as a Midwinter gift standing on her bedside table. He wasn’t sure how to react, whether to be sad or happy that this gift, that had only ended up in her belongings by chance, now served such an oddly fitting purpose. He’d wanted it to be a reminder of him, but now… It had been him who’d brought Markor into Astrid’s life on that first day at the stables and it had been him who’d taken him away again. Now, this figurine he’d given her was all that was left. Odd how some things fit together sometimes.

“So, until you… until you ended Markor’s suffering, you didn’t know whether what you saw had been real or not?”

Astrid was clearly trying to change the topic and distract herself, so Hiccup complied. “No, I couldn’t be sure. I spent hours pondering whether it had been merely a dream, wishful thinking, or a true vision.” He paused, taking a deep breath, and reached for Astrid’s hand before he went on; though whether to draw strength or offer comfort, he did not know. “I thought about what the Goddess had said… and whether I was capable of killing someone if it meant I could be with you again.”

Her sharp intake of breath didn’t escape him. “And… did you arrive at a conclusion?” she asked, her tone sober, unreadable.

Hiccup gulped, then shook his head. “No,” he whispered. “I mean, I’d do everything for you. But this… I don’t know. Maybe? Depending on the circumstances? I don’t think I could… could simply murder a helpless innocent in cold blood. But…” he paused again, averting his face from her scrutinising eyes. “But now that I know how it feels to lose you… I’d be capable of a lot to keep that from happening again.” He knew that she despised unnecessary deaths, so he wasn’t sure whether that was the answer she’d wanted to hear. But it was the truth nonetheless.

At first, she didn’t respond. After a few endless heartbeats though, she shifted on the bed, leaned closer, and lifted his head with her hand cradling his jaw. “You’ll do what’s right,” she whispered, a sincerity in her eyes that left him breathless. “The Goddess said you’d only have to do what comes naturally to you and I trust your judgement. Everything will be all right.”

Sighing, he closed his eyes and leaned more heavily into her touch, nuzzling against her fingers and softly kissing her palm. “I hope you’re right,” he murmured.

She kept caressing his face, her touch soft as a feather. “I’d go with what the Goddess told you. There’s always hope,” she said lightly, and even though his eyes were still closed he could hear her smile easily enough. “I do wonder what you’re supposed to do for them, though. That bit about them having a purpose in their selection sounded pretty ominous.”

Hiccup nodded, having wondered about that several times already. “I know. But all we can do is wait and see. She didn’t tell me about anything specific I’m supposed to do – except for that ending a life part.” He shrugged, then grimaced. “I mean, maybe it’s just rebuilding Ravenledge and providing a better life for the people living there. That’s going to be enough of a challenge I’d say.”

“Well, you won’t be alone with that task,” Astrid reminded him, leaning forward until her forehead rested against his own. “We can do this, together. No matter how difficult it will be.”

Smiling, his mouth searched hers for a string of light kisses. “Yeah,” he mumbled in-between against her lips. “Together.”

It was a heady thought. The last couple of days still hadn’t been enough to completely wipe away the hopelessness and pain of the two weeks before, and thinking about how they would spend their future and meet every obstacle together from now on – sometimes it still felt like too much to wrap his head around.

“I’ve got to say though,” Astrid interrupted his thoughts, giggling as they lay side by side again. “I’m surprised nothing else happened in that dream-vision of yours.”

“Excuse me?”

She giggled again, a little more teasingly. “Well, you met the Goddess of Love herself! And even though the situation warranted more, you did nothing but talk and cuddle for a bit? Most people would call that a wasted opportunity.”

Snorting, he rolled his eyes. “What was I supposed to do? Should I have kissed her and made out with her? With a Goddess?”

“Why not?” She was still giggling. “She looked like me after all. Nobody could have blamed you, and you said it yourself, you didn’t even know that it wasn’t really me in the beginning. Or that it was more than just a dream to begin with. It would have been perfectly justified.”

Bemused, he shook his head. She couldn’t be serious, could she? Or was there a hint of jealousy behind her amusement, some underlying worries? But no, that wasn’t like her. When he looked at her though, he noticed the teasing gleam in her eyes, the twitching of her lips. Right…

Smiling, he rolled around until he was on his side, propped up on one arm and leaning over her. Astrid looked up at him, eyes so soft despite the mischievous spark and the deep blue almost enough to lose himself in them again.

“You want to know why?” he whispered before he brushed a few strands of hair out of her face and then leaned down to kiss her again. “Because she wasn’t you.”

. o O o .

In many aspects, the night hadn’t been what Astrid had expected and yet she wasn’t disappointed, not really at least. Without a doubt, she missed Hiccup’s hands on her body, his touch on sensitive skin, the heat of intimacy. But somehow, she didn’t mind. The night had passed by in another kind of intimacy, with soft caresses and relatively innocent kisses and with a lightness that she found meant even more to her. They’d talked for hours and about so many things, important and trivial alike, and while it hadn’t been the reconnecting she’d craved, it was the one she’d needed.

When she woke in the morning, she couldn’t keep a broad smile from spreading across her face. Even through her still-closed eyes, she knew that the sun was already rising, but in opposition to their usual routine, there was no need for them to hurriedly wake up and part. There was nothing keeping her from enjoying his arms loosely wrapped around her waist, his low and even breathing in her hair, and the incredibly comfortable heat purring from his body wrapped around her back. There was nothing keeping her from snuggling closer against him, sighing happily as he reflexively pulled her closer.

Nothing except the loud knocking against her door and Ruff’s voice echoing toward them.

“Milady? Are you decent?” There was a short pause, then, “I’m coming in now.”

Astrid rolled her eyes and nestled closer to Hiccup behind her as he stirred awake with a low grunt. She’d talked about this with Ruff the night before and they’d agreed on a few things in advance. Mainly that her maidservant wouldn’t just barge into her bedroom like she usually did to wake her. Sadly, there wouldn’t be anything indecent anytime soon anyway, so it was a little moot, really. Unless Ruff wasn’t alone, then she would say so before opening the door so Hiccup had the chance to hide. But as it was, Ruff was alone when she entered the bedroom, so Astrid couldn’t have cared less. She wasn’t ready yet to leave his warm embrace.

Hiccup, however, jumped awake in an instant. He sat up straight, pulling the blanket up with him, and his face went frighteningly pale as he stared at Ruff before he seemed to remember and relaxed again. Lamenting the warmth, Astrid sat up too and snuggled back against his chest, smiling as he wrapped his arms and the blanket back around her.

Ruff threw them a smirk, raising her eyebrows at the obvious state of them still being fully dressed, but then turned to pull the curtains open. “I’d say ‘Sorry for interrupting you’, but it doesn’t look like I interrupted anything anyway. I knew Tuff was exaggerating. Anyway, time to get up. Your breakfast is waiting for you at your tea table, Astrid. Hiccup, you get yours in the kitchen as usual. Sorry, but there was no way for me to sneak in your portion without raising suspicion.”

Intending to drown Ruff’s babbling out to enjoy her last minutes with Hiccup for the day, Astrid still perked up, frowning at her maidservant’s words.

“What?”

Ruff turned, an insinuating smirk on her face as she rolled her eyes. “I said your breakfast is–”

“No, no, I got that,” Astrid interrupted her, sitting up straighter now even as her mind was whirling in confusion. “But why? Why would I eat here? What about my usual breakfast with the King and the Grand Dukes?”

On so many occasions lately, she’d wished she could simply skip the common meal and eat alone in her rooms, but not today. Today, she had something important to talk about with her father, and not just she. Duke Oswald had to agree to giving County Ravenledge to Hiccup, too, and they needed their and Eret II’s support to rebuild it. Who knew when else she, Eret, and Dagur would get the chance to talk to their fathers? She didn’t want to wait any longer.

She looked up at Hiccup, seeking… she didn’t even know what exactly. Reassurance somehow. But he looked just as confused as she felt. And worried.

“I don’t know, exactly,” Ruff said, shrugging apologetically. “All I know is that there was a change of plan somehow. Today’s hunt got cancelled and instead, your father summoned all of your suitors for an announcement.“

Beneath her hand on his chest, Hiccup trembled. “Oh, no,” he muttered. “That doesn’t sound good,”

Astrid could only agree, but she didn’t want him to fret again. He was already carrying more guilt than was necessary. She shifted until she kneeled in front of him, for once towering over him, and took his face in both her hands. “Don’t worry, okay?” she said with as much conviction as she could muster. “Whatever it is, this doesn’t change anything. Do you hear me? We belong together and nothing will ever change that. Together to the end of the road. Promise.”

Hiccup looked up at her with conflicted eyes, clearly wanting to believe her but unable to fully do so. “I hope you’re right,” he muttered, swallowing, then leaned more heavily into her touch, his forehead resting against hers. “I really do.”

. o O o .

Yes, she didn’t want Hiccup to fret about whatever her father had to announce. However, not fretting about it herself was an entirely different matter. What could be so important that he cancelled all plans for the day?

Struggling to not let her nervousness show, she was standing in the audience room, next to and a little behind her father as they waited for everyone to arrive. As her future husband, Eret was allowed to stand behind her, and now, she understood how hard the previous day must have been for him. Even though the presence of the King certainly kept many from showing their envy and disdain too openly, the looks Eret got for being up here with her were anything but friendly. But even though she wished she could spare him all this, she also was grateful for his presence. It was all that kept her from falling apart.

The last time her father had made an announcement, he’d torn apart all her dreams and plans. He wouldn’t reject her upcoming betrothal to Eret and hand her back to all these leering predators in front of her because of such a stupid rumour, would he? No, certainly not. But she couldn’t help but fear for what he had to say nonetheless.

“Do you know what this is about?” she whispered, her head tilted to the side so only Eret could hear her. Surely his thoughts had gone in a similar direction than hers.

“No idea,” Eret grunted quietly. “Father wouldn’t say anything even though he clearly knows what’s going on. He was excited though, even grinning, so I guess it’s nothing too bad.”

Swallowing, Astrid nodded weakly. At least it wouldn’t be the cancellation of their betrothal. She just hoped that he was right, that it wouldn’t get too bad. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take.

A few minutes later, everyone seemed to have arrived as two servants closed the doors, and Astrid reached behind her for Eret’s hand. She needed her brother’s support, feeling a little lighter as he squeezed her reassuringly.

“I see everyone’s here now,” her father began, smiling broadly at the crowd. He seemed to be in a good mood. “Good. I have exciting news. Even though it’s still over a week until the betrothal ceremony, my daughter has made her decision already, and while I couldn’t be happier about her choice, I also see how it affects the mood and motivation for the remaining challenges.” There was consenting grumbling all over the room, many men throwing disappointed glances at her and Eret.

“I was already thinking about how to solve this problem,” her father went on, “when a note from Oramond reached me yesterday.”

Puzzled, Astrid cocked her head. Oramond was a city located north of Volantis, about a day’s ride away. She dimly remembered having been there as a child as it was famous for its market, the only one where merchants from the Northern Tribes sold their goods. Or used to sell their goods. Over the last ten years, fewer and fewer merchants had shown up until the city had lost its significance. What message from there could be so important that her father changed his plans?

She didn’t need to wait long for the answer.

“As some of you know, the lands north of Volantis still occasionally suffer from dragon attacks. This year though, there were ten times as many sightings as usual already. Livestock was stolen, and last week, one of Oramond’s storehouses was burned to the ground. And while this development is truly unfortunate, it can also be seen as a blessing in disguise as it gives us an unexpected opportunity.”

The King made a short dramatic pause, looking around into the waiting faces before he continued, his voice a little louder now. “Three decades have passed since we last held a Dragon Hunt. But now, the Gods bless us with this impeccable chance. From today on, all upcoming hunts and tournaments until the betrothal ceremony are cancelled. Instead, everyone gets the chance to prepare themselves for in four days from today, we will all travel to Oramond. From there, the first Dragon Hunt since my father’s reign will be held. It will go on for three days before a winner is determined. My daughter’s hand, while a suitable and traditional prize, is not an option anymore, but I think I’ve found an acceptable alternative. I’m happy to announce that the winner of this Dragon Hunt, the man who brings me the head of a dragon, will not only earn himself a pouch of gold and glory beyond any other, but will also receive the right to call himself the Count of Ravenledge.”

. o O o .

AN: Yeah, so… we all knew it wouldn't be that easy, didn't we?

And to all those people who (repeatedly) asked about when I'd FINALLY include the dragons… are you satisfied now? O:)

I can't say how regularly I'm going to update from now on. When a chapter is done, I'll post it.

If you want to support me, buy me a coffee ;) (Ko-Fi)

Next chapter

#FTLOAP #For The Love Of A Princess #Hiccstrid #hiccstrid fanfiction #httyd fandom #httyd fanfiction #fanfiction #royalty au #hiccstrid royal au #medieval au #Hiccstrid Medieval AU #fluff #romance

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flying-elliska · 6 years ago

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The transformation of Lucas Lallemant pt 1 : Hell Week.

Skam OG S3 can be more or less divided in three acts, and this is even more obvious in Skam France, which has a more...dramatic style of storytelling, let’s say. Act I : Lucas meets Eliott, struggles with his internalized homophobia, develops feelings, ends with Eliott’s apparent betrayal. Act II : Lucas is isolated, struggles, finally comes out to his friends and to the world, Eliott and Lucas reunite. Act III is what’s yet to come, the revelation of Eliott’s MI, possibly elements related to Lucas’ parents and religion, and the resolution.

I want to take a look at Act II as a unit and the essential character developpment that takes place within it, starting from the disastrous party scene at the end of Vendredi 19h21 and ending with the paint scene in Vendredi 18h34, because this is really where we can see Lucas’s arc pivot, as he is left alone to confront himself, and the nuance with which it was done is incredible in terms of storytelling.

Fair warning, it’s going to be a long one.

Vendredi 19h21 : Fête de trop

It has been pointed out by many that, whereas Isak and Martino punched into bushes and garbage cans during this scene, Lucas hurts himself until his knuckles are bloody. He’s angry at the world for sure, getting in a fight with his friends, but it’s ultimately himself he blames - for having feelings, for caring, for thinking he had a chance with Eliott, for being attracted to a boy, for wanting a family that supports him, for wanting to be loved. Chloe possibly outing him by yelling Lucas is gay in a crowd, Arthur joking about his family, Eliott kissing a girl - it brings all his worst pains and fears to a head, and things he’s been repressing for the longest time just boil over, in the shape of rage and inarticulate despair. He punches his hand into the wall because he cannot speak, cannot think, cannot do anything else. It’s violence and self-harm as a symptom of powerlessness. The look on his face at the end I read as him being totally overwhelmed.

In the background the song talks about partying to pretend to be alright - but emptiness and chaos catch on eventually. It’s ironic in a sense because the singer is talking about glitter and kissing boys in public, things Lucas very much shies away from, but in the end the result is the same, loneliness and alienation. The association of the two brings up very old themes in queer culture, specifically things gay men have had to deal with - feeling adrift, disconnected from family and people and feelings, internalized hatred, self-harm, feeling like you have nowhere to go, putting on a happy face even when you’re spiralling out, partying as a substitute for connection, and what happens when the facade breaks. At the same time, the drop after excess can have a revelatory effect.

Even if it’s painful, this scene is necessary and kickstarts the part of his journey where he is facing his fears on his own. The hurt is a recognition of what is happening to him and how important it is.

Lundi 08h52 : Scared but doing it anyway

That's the definition of courage. With his bandaged hand and the slow opening, as he puts his hoodie up, he looks like a boxer stepping into the ring. Lighting is at its most overcast, blue-tinted, dark and depressing. This clip is heartbreaking, bringing Lucas's worst fears to the light. Being mocked and ostracized, turned into a vulgar joke, having been played for a fool.

Fear number one. He sees his friends laughing at him. Lucas is a character with huge abandonment issues, understandably. As his familial situation went sideways and his sense of self was put in turmoil, he’s relied on the normalcy of his friendgroup to keep him afloat, going to great lengths to preserve their view of him - even declaring love to a girl he feels nothing for. Them laughing would feel like the ground disappearing under his feet.

Fear number two. We can see Alex mimicking a blowjob. Through his rant to Mika about dick shaped confetti or his reaction to “Krindr” dick picks, we can see that he seems to be uneasy when it comes to the overly sexual way the gay community is often presented. And homophobic jokes and behavior tends to be overly sexual too, reducing gayness to a series of sexual acts presented as disgusting, instead of the whole love, identity and culture aspects (not that there is anything wrong with gay sexuality in itself, but when it’s reduced to only that, it would be understandable he has issues with it, especially for a teenager who’s just discovering things, belying the cliché that all men are naturally horndogs.) He's afraid of his intimate feelings and process of discovery becoming a vulgar joke, that’s very understandable.

Fear number three. Eliott looking at him smugly. Basically confirming that he’s a player, that this very special connection they had, something that allowed Lucas to open up and be vulnerable and artistic and bold, and muse about alternate universes and play the piano and feel comfortable enough to be happy kissing another boy - was a lie. Eliott doesn’t care and now he’s able to be on the side of the bullies because to him - like the cliché “bisexuality” Lucas had in mind talking to the girls - his attraction to boys is just a fun side piece, he can just go back to his girlfriend afterwards, whereas Lucas can’t. He’s “stuck being gay” and he’s failed at maintaing a straight façade.

To close it off, there’s Chloé, fulfilling the narrative purpose of a ticking clock and a reminder of Lucas’ failure at straightness and imminent outing. This of course, is not really happening, but this paranoia is very typical of being a closeted queer person, of constantly having to wonder who is going to love you anyway and who is going to reject you because even when your people are mostly liberal and tolerant, there is no way to really know because of how deep homophobia is rooted in our society (see my meta about French humor). It really is Schodinger’s unconditional love.

And then there’s Daphné. This is the first of several ‘tonal breaks’ in this arc, in which the angst is cut with moments of levity, randomness and wacky jokes that seem a little out of place but do serve a purpose narratively and in terms of themes. In this one, she goes out of her way to praise Lucas’ masculinity. It wouldn’t surprise me she already heard rumors, going from the alarmed look on her face, and wants to reassure Lucas he is still a man in her eyes. Daphné is an interesting character to do this. Because she has little brain to mouth filter, she tends to say stupid things and offend people, but at the same time, she can break through people’s walls and isolation - the foyer, meant to bring different people together, is a symbol of this. She’s a key representative of Skam’s central theme of people being flawed, able to learn, and of -trying and reaching out, even with mixed results, being a super important thing. Therefore, it’s interesting she’s the first to reach Lucas in this difficult phase, and this will happen again later. At the same time her words about defenseless women needing a strong man is a reminder of the overwhelming clichés about gender roles that make Lucas’ life so difficult.

Lundi 14h03 : Ennemies and Allies

Chloe's threat of outing Lucas whenever she wants gives the whole episode a feeling of urgency. She is extremely hurt and he can’t catch her, either physically or symbolically. She’s a loose cannon, and her holding Lucas’ outing hostage as revenge feels very violent. It's not clear that anybody knows yet, but she could take Lucas's choice from him any time now. His harsh and terrified words (”I’m not a f*g”) illustrate the level of denial he is trying to stay in as it’s slipping away from him, the powerlessness he feels. The scene taking place in PE class with people throwing balls at one person standing in a goal reinforces the overal symbolism of being put on the spot.

On the opposite side, Yann's reminder of support sets up what happens later. He wants to be there for Lucas, but he’s also been hurt by his silence. He doesn’t want the squad to be Lucas’ punching ball if he can’t verbalize.

Mardi 13h08 : Miscommunication.

Eliott is trying to make a joke about the time they met and he couldn’t chose what to get from the vending machine ; Lucas interprets it as him saying he wants both Lucas and his gf, and he responds harshly. Lucas is pretty much standing up for himself here, as painful as it is. He signals to Eliott he's not game to just forgive and forget, to do as if what happens didn't matter. Him alluding to a choice that Eliott needs to make - there's still a sliver of hope there though, as agonizing as it seems.

Lucas not finding a place to sit and leaving the canteen represents his worst fears about coming out - being left alone. It’s a classic high school story trope, not knowing at which table to sit, eg. not fitting in anywhere, so he chooses not to feed himself. (Again, hurting himself).

Mercredi 13h37 : Sorting through your old shit

This moment of levity after the heavy angst serves as a reminder that life, whether you are ready for it or not, goes on. It’s also the second time that the show subverts horror tropes - first in the first kiss scene for romantic purposes, here for comedic purposes with the creepy dolls everywhere and the guy with an axe. The theme is that things that look scary at first often aren’t, and can even bring unexpected gifts. The overall scene doesn’t have much impact on the plot, but it can symbolize several things - the need to do away with the messy things of the past (like all the shit in the shop and internalized homophobia), giving things that are still useful a new place where they can be better appreciated (the couch is a metaphor for Lucas being gay lmao), the difficulty of dealing with grief and your baggage alone and the need for outside help (like the shopkeeper who can’t get rid of his brother’s things), the importance of playfulness and unexpected gifts (table football).

The girls opening up about their dating woes puts Lucas’ struggles in the larger context of teenage boys being trash, normalizing what he goes through. On the other hand, again, Daphne’s comments and Imane’s joke show that the girl squad have their own problems with gender clichés. Manon denouncing them marks her as a safe place for Lucas, as well as her going through the deeper kind of turmoil of love troubles.

Lundi 01h48 : In the abyss

The scene is dark and drenched in blue light, giving it an oceanic, almost submarine vibe. This is Skam taking full advantage of its real time format, showing the story at a time where viewers are very likely to be in the same state of exhaustion and half-consciousness as the characters.

Even though he doesn't show it much, Lucas is a deeply caring character. He's just been extremely burned out, possibly by his family situation, and what happened with Eliott. And yet, it's still there. We can see it here in how he comforts Manon, trying to be stoic, but it's getting to him in the end. Compassion is often much easier to extend to others than to yourself. He might punish himself for feeling too much, but he would never do that to Manon.

This scene is, to me, the most pivotal moment of the season yet along with the piano scene : they're moments where we see Lucas's soul come to the surface. And as vulnerability is key to the plot, those moments of openness really move things along. The piano scene was Lucas letting out his more passionate, artistic, sensitive side ; this moment is more raw and ugly, about what lies beneath the anger, the despair of caring too much. And yet there is beauty and relief in owning it. In this particular context the shell of anger Lucas protects himself with is meaningless - it’s just the utter loneliness of the night and two people who are broken and lost. Manon is also from a broken home of sorts, she’s also been given a lot of reasons to give up on love. The fact that they’re able to share this intimacy of letting themselves feel like that, at a moment where words are beyond them, is however a sign that they’re not giving up. They’re feeling the feelings, as painful as it is, and they have a witness. It’s beautiful.

Vendredi 09h14 : Exhaustion

Lucas's body is basically close to giving up on him. He can front all he wants, but he's still only human. So he goes to see the school nurse for insomnia. He thinks maybe if he can solve the physical problem, maybe get pills, he can go back to being tough and pretending nothing is wrong. The nurse’s answer - not exposing himself to any screens or blue light before sleeping - is laughably unadapted to his problems, which in turn makes the idea that Lucas can solve his problems this way ridiculous as well.

The nurse is a mess - is she cheating on her actual husband there ? Why is she talking about her (murder)fantasies to a student ? Teacher’s back acne ? She illustrates that adults still have problems (again, normalizing what Lucas goes through) and that life in general is messy and you need people on your side who can be there even though you are going through ugly, difficult things. Lucas cannot talk to her, they’re not on the same wavelength at all, but there’s still someone he can talk to. The medecine is not pills, it’s human support and trust.

Vendredi 17h05 : Trust issues

This clip is very painful to watch.

First Eliott’s drawing. At this point in the story it feels like a cruel joke. This guy played him, and now he’s talking about destiny ? Lucas really bought into the whole Polaris thing, we could see he was starving for a real connection, and maybe he thinks Eliott is using that against him, tugging on the heartstrings like a true artsy fuckboi. At the same time, the loneliness that emanates from the drawing is heartbreaking for us, who know what’s up with Eliott.

Lucas decides to go talk to Yann. That’s his destiny. I thought he was going to walk up to Eliott for a moment, the filming is deliberately ambiguous, but no. In a way, he’s choosing himself, deciding to bring stability to his life by opening up to the guy who’s been his main support system for years : Yann. And he lays it all on the table - his problems with his family, his insomnia, the mess with Chloe, the difficulty talking, having a crush of sorts for Yann, falling in love with Eliott. He’s so brave. He banks on his ability to trust Yann, he wants to believe he’ll be there for him. He’s finally coming out to someone on his own terms, with clear words.

It doesn’t work. Now, I never believed Yann was homophobic - his face only shuts down when Lucas starts talking about all the people who already know. But after Lucas’ slow, painful journey towards opening up, it feels like a bucket of ice water in the face. However, it is thematically appropriate.

This story arc tries to balance two concepts very delicately : on one side, as a teenager it’s important to realize that you’re not as alone as you think, not alone struggling. On the other hand, both internalized homophobia and French culture’s latent homophobia (that makes people do shitty things even though they’re not homophobic at heart, without realizing it) make this process of teenage alienation vs self discovery and acceptance, a thousand times more painful than it needs to be. Ending the episode on this note signifies that the struggle is real, that however brave you might be, sometimes the world is going to try and slap you down anyway. Thankfully, the story doesn’t end there, but for Lucas, this is the bottom of the pit. As his instagram post says ‘god needs your lifeboat as an ashtray’. Sometimes your best efforts mean nothing. This seems like a very pessimistic and cruel conclusion but I believe it’s an important beat in the story, recognizing that sometimes things go wrong through no fault of your own. It’s the system that is to blame, that has not given the tools to Yann to react properly and for the both of them to communicate better and for Lucas to accept who he is and not hurt people around him in order to hide. They’ve gone the road of validation over comfort and I think it’s a very interesting choice. (Even though I can also understand people who needed a more positive message and were hurt by this). But like a lot of queer people, I’ve had my share of half-botched coming outs and it’s important to show how you come back from that.

...

So in a nutshell : this week, we bear witness to the slow death of Lucas’ tough, uncaring, player straight guy facade. His feelings have reached a boiling point, and he can’t ignore them any longer, it’s taking a toll on his body and isolating him from his friends. The moments of levity serve to dedramatize and normalize what Lucas goes through, encouraging him to reach out, while at the same time, the show takes his pain and fear seriously, by showing the minute toll it takes on his health and the less than ideal reaction of the people around him. However, through it all, he finds the courage to keep facing his feelings and opening up. He is staring his worst fears in the face - abandonment, ostracization, having his feelings used against him - and he still manages to choose trust. Eliott might have been a catalyst, but in the end he chooses to do what’s right for himself. He talks, even though it’s almost a moment of symbolic death, but the transformation can take root from there. Honesty is grueling sometimes, but it’s still necessary. It’s better than letting the lie ruin your health and your relationship, better than hurting yourself in an attempt to push down the truth, better than violent powerlessness or night time devastation. Lucas is so good at wearing a mask, but how he reacts in this crisis is revelatory of his own deepest need for change and love.

In short, I love this character with the intensity of a thousand suns and even though it's super painful I love that we got to go on this journey with him.

Thank you for reading this monster of a post, and see you next time for pt 2 : Acceptance !

#skam france #skam meta #skamfr meta #lucas lallemant #elu #lucas x eliott #my meta #analysis

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dirgeofcerberus111 · 6 years ago

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White Diamond Momswap AU

So this post was heavily inspired by @aramiplusart‘s diamond switch post, as well as a lot of WD momswap going around recently, me and some of my friends got creative and made this. This is backstory outline for a Momswap AU where White Diamond was the one that rebelled.

Okay, hear me out.

White Diamond always stood apart from her fellow Diamonds in many ways, one of them being her incredibly long view of things. She often thought so far ahead in regards to the future that her motives and reasoning seemed alien to others.

She would sometimes “test” the other Diamonds, often without their knowledge. Arranging various trials to gauge their response and competency in handling situations without her guidance. Her goal in this was to slowly guide them into making the right choices on their own rather than relying on her, to help to establish and build confidence in themselves as leaders to better tackle any crises that might arise. Possibly, even teach them that they can also depend on each other. She was aware that Pink felt that Yellow and Blue did not care about her, but rather than intervene directly, tried to arrange situations that would bring them together.

However, in her attempts to guide and mentor them, she was actually causing a lot of damage to them. She had too high expectations and too little communication. Like in canon, the damage caused by a lack of communication is a running theme.

As time went on, White began to notice the cracks forming in their society. Their empire was spreading itself too thin and the heavy handedness of their authority was slowly fostering discontent among the lower classes. White had seen this all before, and knew it was only a matter of time before another rebellion ignited.

Throughout the history of the empire, there had been a mysterious Gem calling herself “Moonstone” that would routinely show up, stir up trouble on the outer edges of the empire, and then vanish without a trace. The Diamonds had never been able to capture or shatter her, so she has remained at large, a thorn in their side for untold ages.

Never one to clearly explain her expectations and plans, it was in fact White Diamond herself who would take up the alias of Moonstone. Her Moonstone persona was a useful tool in keeping the other Diamonds on their toes and ensuring that they do not grow complacent. Moonstone’s “rebellions” would end in failure, all the rogue elements on a colony that had gathered under one flag were eliminated, the conflicts kept under control, and rest of the population kept in line.

Rather than address them directly herself, it was White’s intention to draw attention to the cracks that were forming in society by forcing the issue to the surface, and helping the younger Diamonds recognize their faults and learn from it. Rather than simply tell them, it was her style to guide them along the correct path and help them realize lessons for themselves. She did not yet realize that it was the entire system that was at fault here, but did recognize that the Diamond’s personal faults were the source of much tension in the empire.

So, cut to the colonization of Earth, Pink Diamond is sitting up in her moon base bored when she gets excited when the first batch of Amethysts start to emerge, and Pearl accidentally encourages her to go down there as a Quartz to see them for herself. But when "Rose Quartz" and Pearl warp into the Kindergarten, nobody notices them. In fact, nobody is around at all. They look around, and hear off in the distance what sounds like a charismatic speech being given to an excited crowd. Rose and Pearl find that all of the Amethysts are crowded around enraptured by this strange new Gem. Pink has never seen or even heard of anything like her: tall, brilliantly white, with a gemstone set into her forehead. She's telling the gathered Quartz soldiers that they don't have to listen to the Diamonds! They can live the lives that they choose, they just need to gather their courage and take their freedom for themselves!

On one hand, the strange Gem’s words resonate with Pink, who has of course never been entirely comfortable with her station as a Diamond. On the other hand, this bitch is ruining her first colony! "Rose" steps up and tries to defend the honor of the Diamonds, arguing that the Diamonds aren’t all bad and pointing out how all Gems owe their existence to them. Its the usual Homeworld rhetoric, but its all half-hearted since she's not even sure she believes what she's saying, so naturally what she says lacks conviction.

The white Gem laughs off Rose's arguments, easily refuting and meticulously dismantling her every argument, much to her chagrin. When Rose suggests that she was very confident that Pink Diamond would be open to reason, Moonstone really begins to lay into the anti-Diamond rhetoric. She begins to go off about how inexperienced Pink is, how quick she was to throw a tantrum, how spoiled she truly was, how she had to beg and whine to the other Diamonds just to get her own colony. Many awful and disparaging things that White would later deeply regret saying in front of Pink.

Rose/Pink gets more and more embarrassed until she finally loses her temper and rushes in to attack. But Rose has no combat experience and in a blind rage, so the white Gem easily rebuffs her attack and leaves her defeated and humiliated.

Meanwhile Moon/White is wondering to herself why this random, pink-colored Quartz is taking all this so personally. Then she sees the Pearl who had come with them and recognizes her. Her eyes widen as she puts two and two together and realizes what she’s done. But she can’t say anything now, if she did her entire cover would be blown and this would all be for nothing. She could fix this all later.

So instead of poofing her, the white Gem asks Rose to deliver a message to her Diamond like a good little Quartz: Moonstone is on Earth.

When Pink finally gets back to her base, she's initially too embarrassed to tell Yellow and Blue what happened. Of course Pearl can’t say anything due to the Pearl Orders. But soon enough they figure out something's off and it doesn't take much for them to finally get Pink to tell them what happened. Once they hear the word “Moonstone”, they are immediately on the alert. Yellow and Blue promise to help Pink deal with Moonstone, because they both know that if she’s here, then conflict was imminent. And perhaps this time, with all three of them working together, maybe they'll finally be able to put an end to Moonstone.

However, to intricate matters, Moonstone began to fall in love with the Earth. As you do. At first, her rebellion was not at all for the sake of freeing Gems, but she managed to form genuine bonds with these ones. She starts to see the beauty of organic life, something she might have been able to do once in the past, eons ago, but it's a feeling that had long ago atrophied. Or so she thought. Also, like in canon, the nature of Garnet is something of a revelation for her. There has never been a fusion like that in all of Gem history, or if there has been, they had wisely kept themselves hidden from White Diamond's attention. The mask had become the face.

Which all means that White is now faced with a dilemma. She never originally intended to actually stop the colony. It was Pink's first after all. This was all supposed to be a surmountable challenge for her and to solidify her place in the Authority.

But White no longer wants the Earth to be destroyed, nor does she actually want to fight and possibly harm her fellow Diamonds.

So eventually she comes up with a plan. To save the Earth but spare Pink from humiliation, Moonstone has to deal such a devastating blow against Homeworld that the Diamonds can't possibly blame Pink for the colony's failure. White knows how stubborn they all are, so it would have to be something BIG. Something that would make Yellow and Blue see without a shadow of a doubt that none of them had a chance at winning this war and abandon the colony.

Something like say...the shattering of White Diamond?

And that's exactly what she does. She arranges the fake shattering of White Diamond, publically, in full view of Yellow, Blue, and Pink in the hopes that that will be a great enough show of force to scare them away from the planet and spare it from colonization.

Of course, White didn't plan on staying on Earth forever. After a thousand years or two of laying low, White Diamond would suddenly return after making a miraculous recovery, perhaps with the “shards” of Moonstone in hand and a convincing coverstory to complete the deception. Then everything would go back to normal.

But we all know how well that went.

Instead of having the intended effect, the surviving Diamonds planted the Cluster, corrupted nearly every Gem on the planet, save for what few that White was able to protect, and then flew off back to Homeworld to NOT healthy cope with their grief at the loss of their mentor and leader.

White had grieviously miscalculated. She had thought that the other three Diamonds were ready to function without her and they were NOT. Now the Diamonds are running around without their leader and are completely lost in their own ways. White’s guilt was her failure as a mentor and essentially as a parent.

Her actions have serious reprocussions for everyone. Yellow and Blue are now more overworked than ever trying to manage all of White’s former colonies on top of their own, and Pink has had her confidence severely undermined. Earth was supposed to be her time to shine and it ended in catastrophy. Because she never got a chance to grow as Rose Quartz, she was never given the chance to discover her healing powers. She feels like the others will never be trusted with a colony again and that Yellow and Blue blame her for White’s “death”. So she remains on the Zoo with her remaining Gems and Court, the Zoo basically being a doll house for Pink: her own little mini-Earth where she can play colony while Blue and Yellow do the real work.

However in truth, this is not the case at all. Because unlike in canon, Pink was wholeheartedly trying to put down Moonstone. Even if it ended in failure, she did in fact earn some respect from Yellow and Blue. In canon the whole reason why Pink kept "making excuses" for why her colony wasn't going well and was failing to crush the rebels was because she secretly wanted the rebellion to win.

They would give her more responsibility, if she just asked. All of them tried to stop Moonstone and failed, so they don’t blame her. But Blue thinks the whole Earth experience traumatized Pink and so assumes that she doesn’t want to run a colony anymore. Yellow of course is too busy to ask either way. And neither of them stop to wonder if leaving Pink by herself after all this might be unhealthy. Once again, lack of communication and assumptions rears it’s ugly head. Because if there's one thing Diamonds are bad at, it's sharing their feelings. So all three of them box themselves off to grieve in their own different ways

And from there on, things go pretty much the same way as they did in canon up until Steven is born: Moonstone, Garnet and White Pearl go around bubbling corrupted gems, find Amethyst in the Prime Kindergarten, and eventual settle down in Beach City, where 5,000 years after the war ended, Moonstone meets a very special human...

More details on Moonstone:

Her symbol is a moon instead of a star. As well as the emblem of the Crystal Gems. Her summoned weapon is a crescent-shaped shield, following the theory that all the Diamonds can summon shields of different kinds. Her physical weapon is a lunar-themed spear, made by Bismuth.

Moonstone’s gemstone has its pentagon facing downwards as opposed to Rose’s which points upward.

Right then hope you enjoyed!

Co-conspirators: @directorhachi, @casual-dark, @nobrandminda,

People who also made Momswaps and thought they’d be interested: @aramiplusart, @artifiziell, @thechekhov

#steven universe #my stuff #momswap #momswap au #sorry @'d people if this comes out of left field #white diamond

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scatcatz · 6 years ago

Text

Affection by Decimals

Chapter 1 - The First of Many

Summary: This is a self indulgent Human Female Reader x Connor romance drama with lots of hurt/comfort and fluff with some nsfw chapters. I don’t use Y/N so the character is nameless when possible. I do use she/her pronouns. Its more about everyday life with androids that won their freedom and Connor’s socially reserved acquaintance who becomes more than he realized.

"Connor, please for the love of god. Stop following me around like a damn poodle. There are plenty of people here to talk to. Just go socialize or something." Hank said reaching the cusp of pushing Connor in any direction that wasn’t near him. He pointed to the table towards the back where people were drinking Christmas themed shots and throwing confetti.

"You see Chris over there? Go say 'hi' to him. He's a nice kid just like you. You'll get along great." He slapped him on the back nudging him forward. Connor had no real reason for coming to their work's Christmas party other than making sure Hank got home safely and wasn't alone. Hank only had a handful of friends and each holiday reminded him of that.

"Sure." Connor briefly said and headed over to Chris. To be honest, he didn’t care for all the reckless behavior that happened at these parties. No one was sober enough to be considerate or thought provoking. His brain rotted away here. He made a quick scan of all their faces to gather their names. Chris was in the middle of a toast when he approached.

"Merry early Christmas to all the miserable faces that I have to see tomorrow morning!" The group raised their glasses and gulped it down. Their laughter was followed by light shoving of Chris's arm. He turned his head towards Connor. "You here to celebrate too?"

"Yes. Tis the season after all." He recalled the popular saying finding it appropriate.

"Have a drink with us!" He pushed a glass across the table. Connor raised his hand refusing.

"No thanks. Androids can't drink." Chris immediately felt silly for asking. Shifting his Santa hat.

"Oh yeah, my bad. You're just like my friend here. Can't seem to convince her to drink anymore." He motioned to the young woman wearing antlers across from him.

"I said I would only have one with you guys. That was the one." The group kept pressing her for another.

"Why do you drink just one?" Connor asked.

"I don't actually like the taste of alcohol. Let's call it peer pressure. There's no benefit to drinking anyway." She smiled at him. A lone rock in the sea of deafening, blissful people.

"Hey! Alcohol helps with heart disease and stuff." He points back to her. Related info filtered into his memory to contribute to the argument.

"It is believed to reduce the risk of a heart attack by 10 to 15%." She groaned at the result looking back at Chris's smug face.

"See! You should have another." The group muddled their opinions around the table. Battling the pros and cons of each type of drink they fancied.

"One shot is the maximum allowance for a woman her size otherwise the risks outweigh the benefits." Connor adds. She turned back to him.

"Thank you, ummm... Connor, right?" She paused tapping her fingers.

"Yes, that’s correct."

"Thank you, Connor for proving my point." She said. Chris booed in response.

"He just called you short stuff." He laughed. For a moment, Connor worried his message came across as rude until she politely smiled at him then back to Chris.

"I am short. Breaking new ground there, Chris." She adjusted her antlers and ever so slightly sat up taller. Chris made a displeased hum. Connor noticed somehow confetti had fallen onto his jacket and no matter how many times he swiped it, it was staying.

"Connor." His ears perked up.

"I need your help convincing her to do karaoke tonight." His hands came together into a small prayer. The group overheard the word ‘karaoke’ and chimed in.

"Karaoke is so much fun! After you sing once, you'll want to keep going. Its pretty addictive." Said another woman. People turned to each other listing off possible song requests giddy for the opportunity.

"Chris, come on! You do this every time we're here and I say the same thing. I came for the atmosphere and to chill out." She crossed her arms and leaned back on the chair while staring at him.

"I heard some rumors you sang at the other party and you are holding back on me girl. I wanna hear it! You too, right Connor?" His head tilted towards her.

Connor had no particular interest in this but for the sake of conversation, he complied. When he gently turned towards her, she knew at that moment he could no longer be on her side. She leaned away.

"Well, there are perks to the act of singing..." He stopped after watching Chris smirk and her hand rub across her face with another groan.

"Traitor." She mumbled.

"My hero, sit with me." He patted the seat next to him.

"I'm gonna slap you, Chris." She half threatened. Connor sat down trying to think of a more compelling reason for her when someone walked up behind her and whispered into her ear. She whipped her head back at Chris and lightly smacked her hands onto the table.

"Chris, you did not!" He placed his hands up in the air to protect himself. Connor really did not want to be this close to him considering he was within striking range.

"You've already sang this song with them! You just got to do it one more time. No big deal."

"I sang in front of a very small group not a whole bar!" Definitely glad he was not the focus of her animosity. He turned her attention away from him.

"There is a high probability most people here will not remember what happened. We might be the only ones to truly enjoy that moment." Her eyes lingered on him before a hint of a smile slipped away. Her eyes pleaded back to Chris.

"Oooh no. Its too late for that. The DJ's already got your name." She opened her mouth then closed it tightly shoving away from the table to the single bathroom.

"Oh here we go again." Chris leaned towards Connor. "She's always over thinking things. Better let her blow off some steam before I go talk to her. She might just rip my head off." He takes another sip of his drink.

"I could talk to her." He stands up from the table.

"Sure, but I should warn you." Connor looks back at Chris. "She's very sensitive. Just... try and build up her confidence. Just enough so she'll get out of her own head then she's usually fine."

He raises his half empty glass. "Good luck."

Connor made his way over to the swinging door to find her washing her hands. Her heart rate had increased and her hands shook visibly. She breathed deeply.

"Excuse me." She jumped at the sound then turned back to him. He could tell she wasn’t quite comfortable near him. Still a stranger in her eyes despite the casual greetings at the front desk every so often. They knew of each other through coworkers but nothing substantial.

"Can I ask you a personal question?" He stepped beside her while she washed her face in the mirror. She turned off the water leaving a sudden quietness between them.

"Okaaay." She looked in the corner of her eye as her body leaned away from him again.

"You tend to allow others to persuade you into situations that cause you grief. Why do you let them?" She was silent for a moment. Her eyes downcast. Hands clasped.

"Oh, well, they don’t cause me grief. I like being around them most of the time. They just think I need to be more adventurous is all." She air quoted. He could tell she was lying. There was more to it. He stared at her trying to understand this unbalanced emotional attachment she had towards her friends. Her eyes darted around nervous. Eventually she gave him more pieces.

"I don't know. They're my friends. I still trust them even though they mess with me. Its not as bad at its seems." Connor hummed back not quite satisfied with the response. She spoke again but softly. The words seemed more for herself than for him.

"Perhaps I need them to push me because I can't. Does that make sense?" She lifted her eyes to him. She seemed so lost, so somber. His observation led him to a familiar conclusion.

"You're afraid of failure but even more afraid of remaining the same." She looked away. Hands still holding tightly. He knew this kind of fear. Something inside him compelled him to reach out and place a hand on her shoulder.

"You lean on your friends for strength." Her gaze returned to him. So kind and curious. "But you must know, the first step starts with you." She looked upon his hand as he retracted it then she looked back to him.

"I get really nervous around people. Its silly, I know, but its still there. I wish I could throw away all these dumb emotions and live a simpler life." Her eyes flew open after she thought about that statement and who she told it to. "I'm so sorry, that was rude of me." Connor felt deeply melancholy. The fraction of himself he left behind was better off forgotten but she needed to know how wrong she was.

"Don't wish your emotions away. Living without them... was like nothing else ever mattered. People, thoughts, life. It meant nothing. Existing point to point leaves everything else ...empty. Without context." He sighed deeply.

"Was that how you felt like before?" Her eyes touched something inside of him. The humble beginnings of realization maybe. He faltered a bit when he remembered the machine part of him he had destroyed.

"Its like having a single thought command you again and again until it is finished. I used to have pride in it. It felt right." He squeezed his hands then relaxed them. "But I started seeing more of the world. I began to doubt the values I innately knew were true. Questions that had no clear answers. No way to tell how to think and it was both inspiring and terrifying. Going back on my own creators, myself, any sense of stability I built my entire existence on. I slipped into the grey in between of right and wrong. I don't know who I would be without Hank to guide me."

He rubbed his palm on the rim of the sink when her warm hand rested on top of his shooting feedback through his whole body. The pressure sensor registered it as minor. An act of kindness. He never felt this intimate with anyone besides Hank. All those bottled up thoughts had finally been heard by someone who genuinely cared. He couldn't describe how relieved he felt.

"What you and Hank did for your people changed the world." She removed her hand taking away the modest sense of affinity. He also noticed there was a faded mark from an animal bite on her hand. "It’s comforting to know even legends could feel uncertainty." He saw her sad tainted smile peek through. "I'm sorry. I didn’t mean to pry into your past. You're probably sick of people pestering you about it."

"Its okay. It was very demanding facing the public telling them about my involvement but oddly enough you're the only one to ask me how I, as an android, felt. I'm no longer that person but I do feel a sense of mourning. If Hank wasn't there I might not have..." He looked down and breathed deeply. "Excuse me. I got carried away." He returned his gaze back to her.

"I think I can understand that. I wouldn't be able to fight myself and feel quite the same afterwards. Really makes my problems feel trivial now." She hummed a quiet chuckle. Shuffling back and forth, she nibbled on her thumb. "I reaaaally don’t want to go out there."

"Are you sure you want to walk away? You could warm up in here. No one is paying attention to us." She paused and mulled it over. His head perked up. "I could advise you. I have no bias." She laughed nervously.

"You're quite intimidating, you know that? All of a sudden this feels worse just being the two of us." Her foot scrapped against the tile.

"You're looking for solutions, not excuses." He tried steering her back on course.

"Fine, I'm just gonna do it. I know that song like the back of my hand. I sing it all the time in the car. Shouldn't be a problem for me." She turned toward him then quickly looked away and swore under her breath. He stepped into arms reach of her.

"Would it help if I sang with you?" Her head raised up to his.

"Do you know Ella Fitzgerald's What are you doing new years eve?"

"1947 by Frank Loesser. I know it. The one you know is a later recording."

"Oh, then good. Ummm... how about you start then?" She hooked her fingers together. He pulled the lyrics from his memory of Hanks old collections and cleared his throat. She became intensely intrigued by him.

"Maybe it's much too early in the game. Oh, but I thought I'd ask you just the same." Her eyes lit up and she covered her wide smile with her hand. Unconsciously, she swayed to the rhythm of his voice. "What are you doing New Year's? New Year's eve?" He tilted his head towards her and she quietly sang back to him.

"Wonder whose arms will hold you good and tight." He gestured to her to sing louder. She increased just a bit more. "When it's exactly twelve o'clock that night. Welcoming in the New Year." He joined in for the last bit harmonizing to her.

"New Year's eve." There was something wondrous about how it merged together just right. The walls echoed back on them and then she held in a fit of giggles. The contagious energy caused him to smile even more.

When she caught a glance of him, she immediately turned around and lost her composure. A quick snort snuck past her which triggered a laugh from him. A delightful sensation he never engaged in much before now. She pushed a fine stream of air through her lips as she spun around.

"Connor." His smile died down. "Your smile... umm.." She curled her lips smiling shyly. "Is a bit weird." He leaned his head to the side. She then jumped up. "Nevermind that. You should be a singer! That was amazing!"

"Thank you."

"How did I do?" She asked her teeth peaking through at him.

"You're a little flat but that could be from not opening up more." He stated plainly. She rubbed her face again.

"I knew this was a bad idea."

"Otherwise you sounded fine. You probably needed that warm up. You'll be ready now." Her eyes flicked up to his briefly and then back to her hands holding each other.

"I wish you could join me on the stage. Will you stay to watch me sing? I would appreciate someone rooting for me in the audience." She really was nervous about this whole affair. It was refreshing being able to help someone on a smaller scale for once.

"I can do that." He reassured. Her hands gripped his elbows.

"Thank you so much!" One of the few times he had ever heard that and felt his lips tug into a smile again. With that said, she left the room and headed back to her friends. He lingered for a while. He hadn’t felt this happy for another person in a long time. Hopefully he could learn to make others happier and in turn himself.

Connor had returned to the table talking between her, Chris and all their friends where they chatted about erratic topics and told crude jokes to each other. He felt happier. Some of the conversation was lost on him but she kindly got him up to speed and tried including him. When it was finally time, she was pulled aside to go on stage. By that time, Hank had walked up to him.

"Alright Connor, I just paid my tab. We can hit the road now."

"I promised to stay a little longer. She's just about to start." Hank followed Connors focus over to her then back to him.

"Whatever floats your boat. I'll be back in a bit then." Hank walked off. Thankfully still able to keep himself up straight. And there she was. Right in the center with the mic in her hand. The colored lights framed her into everyone's attention. She rocked back and forth then glanced across the room until she found him. Reassured by his presence, her gaze relaxed a bit.

He gestured more volume again to which she smiled back. Then her voice went through the speaker. His chest stirred when he heard her. Her singing wasn't pitch perfect but the insignificant imperfections are what attracted him more. Naturally conditioned through trial and error to create something worth while. That’s what he connected to. Her anomaly.

Her eye contact skimmed across the room but always lingered on him throughout the whole song like it was only meant for his ears.

He silently sang along with her in case she lost track of the lyrics but the greater part of him purely wanted to join her voice one more time.

#dbh #connor x reader #connor #detroit become human #rk800 #fanfic

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nihanovacaine · 7 years ago

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Knights, Queens, and Magisters.

Nimuehdra Emberfury, an arsenal Magistrix who under her icy flames...was just another Sin’dorei woman. Despite the strenuous work she had to endure everyday, the fiery Mage surely persevered at the very end of it all. Her resolve to deal with the occurrence on missions with the Emberfury Div or the Scions was strong and her visage would not show any sign of struggle.

Nimueh would bite down when injured or in pain no matter how excruciating to not let the enemy see weakness. This was how an Emberfury was raised.

Nimueh was first duty bound to Quel’thalas but her spirit wouldn’t allow her to shirk her duty to her comrades. This often led to her staying up longer than usual, often appearing overworked and exhausted on her walks to the Royal Exchange. Her heart compelled her to be compassionate and kind to the ones that she deemed close and of course -- her kin, Nimueh’s sister, Caeryssa Emberfury.

Caeryssa or Ryssa, was the last of the Emberfury family that she’d only recently been reunited with. She treasured her sister as if her life depended on it. The red-headed little Spellblade would smile and have the same energy and childlike wonder that reminded her so much of her late father, Lord Mithra Emberfury. Her father was a tall, strong gentleman who could only be described by Nimueh as most unorthodox Magister she’d ever known. He was always proper with his Magisterial duties and such but at home, he would be a loving, compassionate and merciful man who loved his wife, Lady Carina and family selflessly.

Nimueh’s appearance took after her mother in every way -- her hair, features, and even her shortness were passed down to her by Lady Carina Emberfury. She had an unbreakable bond with her mother and confided in her...as did her mother in younger Nimueh. They only had each other when Lord Emberfury was away on his Magisterial duties and her sister, Caeryssa separated from them which was still unclear to the Magistrix even today as Ryssa claimed that she had lost her memories. Later on, the red-headed girl was found to have enrolled with the Farstriders unbeknownst to her family. When Arthas rampaged through Silvermoon, Nimueh’s parents were killed in combat with the Scourge and Ryssa was nowhere to be found.

The rest of the Emberfury family grew so addicted to magic that they withered and turned into the Wretched. Nimuehdra and Caeryssa were the last of the once prosperous Emberfury family. To this day, the crystals and artifacts that her extended family used to quell their withdrawal periodically were still locked in the Estate. The older Emberfury would not let her recently reunited sibling near the room where these artifacts were stowed away.

Recently, the Magistrix had been spending her evenings after work with her lover, Lord Dariusz Frostblade, Council of the Scions of Erudition. The man was better known as ‘the dark-haired Magister who stole Nim’s heart’ to her friends.With each passing day or night they spent together, the Mages grew closer and they would reveal a piece of themselves to one another the more time passed.

Nimueh would greet him when they met with a kiss on her lover’s cheek and the name she chose to call him,

“Good evening, my Shield. I’ve missed you. Doral ana’diel?”

On most days, her gesture was met with an equally affectionate greeting from the Magister. The stance Dariusz held was princely and almost military-like as per usual. He would stand in attention with a hand clasping the other’s wrist behind his back. When met with Nimueh’s kiss, a hand would break free and find its way instinctively pressed on the small of her back. This gesture told her that he claimed her as his. “Darling,” Dariusz grinned as he greeted her and pressed his lips against her temple.

“I’m yours...”

As per usual, he took his place behind her as her protector, her ‘Knight’ as she often also called him.

“I’m well, my Warmth.I hope things are copesthetic?”

The Raven haired Magister ran his fingers through her hair. It was his way of comforting her to which Nimueh responded by closing her eyes and leaning into his touch. Her day progressed by telling him the happenings of the day and they would always exchange such stories. Often, Lord Frostblade offered her advice put an end to her fears. In turn, the Magistrix showered him with affection and offered him an ear when he needed her to listen to his own qualms.

The older Emberfury was always intrigued by the Magisterial duties that Dariusz was so busy with. Nimueh listened attentively and tried to understand the arcane arts that he familiarized himself with. Her expertise was in many dark magics but her research never included in the arts Lord Frostblade was well-trained in.

Hours passed whilst they did so and more.

They would practice their skills and slay the enemies of Quel’thalas and the Horde together. They almost always returned home to Silvermoon triumphant and proud.

Among other things they did was that they loved to travel together. They visited old ruins, the mountains, the lakes, and lost lands.

One moment they’d be in the Storm Peaks where Nimueh enjoyed solitude most and at other times in Sholazar Basin where Dariusz did the same. They were inseparable in the coming weeks even the Scions of Erudition would notice and tease them. Sometimes it would irk the Magister and despite her own outwardly flustered demeanor, she smiled inside. Almost as though she was content.

She was there for him...of course, she was. Nimueh didn’t know she needed her own heart mended until she had met Dariusz. As he had promised her protection, Nimueh had promised ‘her warmth’ to this man and she would do so without failure even though her strength had waned due to the repeated assaults on her Psyche and body from all walks of her life.

The snowy-haired Mage gradually regained some of this lost strength when Dariusz comforted her tackling one fear one day at a time.

“I know that you are on the very cusp of something truly great. All you have to do is persevere through this, my Warmth.”

Sir Frostblade had said whilst holding her against him, embracing her as she wept softly.

His words would warm her heart this time and ignite her soul ablaze with a renewed fire that she thought was flickering out.

Nimuehdra Emberfury withdrew from the Magister and wiped away the last of her tears. She stood there for a moment and endearingly gazed at her lover before raising her fiery blade to the sky, shifting her gaze upward with the tip of her sword.

“By fire and blade!” Nimueh exclaimed confidently and brought the sword down attaching it to her hip where it belonged when not in actual battle.

A smile formed on her lips and her eyes would lock onto Dariusz’ own.

The Magister...No, her Knight had -resurrected- her. He reminded her that she was a Battlemage and that she was a Warrior.

@dariuszfrostblade @scions-of-antiquity @lledwynlomeriel @roewyn

Theme - Warrior by Beth Crowley

"Warrior" You fascinated me Cloaked in shadows and secrecy The beauty of a broken angel I ventured carefully Afraid of what you thought I'd be But pretty soon I was entangled You take me by the hand I question who I am Teach me how to fight I'll show you how to win You're my mortal flaw And I'm your fatal sin Let me feel the sting The pain The burn Under my skin Put me to the test I'll prove that I'm strong Won't let myself believe That what we feel is wrong I finally see what You knew was inside me All along That behind this soft exterior Lies a warrior My memory refused To separate the lies from truth And search the past My mind created I kept on pushing through Standing resolute which you In equal measure Loved and hated You take me by the hand I'm seeing who I am Teach me how to fight I'll show you how to win You're my mortal flaw And I'm your fatal sin Let me feel the sting The pain The burn Under my skin Put me to the test I'll prove that I'm strong Won't let myself believe That what we feel is wrong I finally see what You knew was inside me All along That behind this soft exterior Lies a warrior Lies a warrior You take me by the hand I'm sure of who I am Teach me how to fight I'll show you how to win You're my mortal flaw And I'm your fatal sin Let me feel the sting The pain The burn Under my skin Put me to the test I'll prove that I'm strong Won't let myself believe That what we feel is wrong I finally see what You knew was inside me All along That behind this soft exterior Lies a warrior The pictures come to life Wake in the dead of night Open my eyes I must be dreaming Clutch my pillow tight Brace myself for the fight I've heard that seeing Is believing

#nimueh nimuehdraemberfury dariuszfrostblade DarxNim

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danrantsaboutmusic · 7 years ago

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Monthly Album Write-Up #2 (March 2018): Death Cab for Cutie’s Plans

Spotify Link | Youtube Link | Official Album Site | Purchase Off Amazon idk

I really wish I could be a super lame ass hipster and say I discovered Death Cab in 2004, but in reality, I found out about them around 2012 by just surfing around indie stations and word-of-mouth. As an incoming freshman in college just out of love in a past relationship and starting a fresh long-distance one, the moody and melancholy music of the band intertwined with the somber lyrics of Ben Gibbard hit home to me in a way that no other act ever really did. While I believe Transatlanticism is a stronger album, in part to its higher highs and my own personal relationships, over time, I’ve just grown more and more fond of the incredibly consistent and just as well-written Plans.

Background: After the success of previous works The Photo Album and the aforementioned Transatlanticism, Death Cab found themselves signed with Atlantic Records, leaving their longtime indie based Barsuk Records behind. Fans of the band were initially worried, hoping the band wouldn’t “sell out” or lose any creative freedom that carried throughout prior works. True to Ben’s word in that “nothing will change” save for a logo swap on physical releases, Plans debuted to widespread acclaim, even netting the band its first Grammy nominations for Best Alternative Album in 2006 and Best Pop Performance by a Duo/Group with its single I Will Follow You Into the Dark.

Cover: The cover always has this feeling of beauty in it to me: a dark red bush or shrub of some sorts atop a quiet grassy patch with dimming city lights in the background. To me, this symbolizes the main themes not only in this album, but from Transatlanticism before, a feeling of loneliness, yet still life; moving on past a city into a wild unknown; a forlorn and dark atmosphere yet a light just beyond. And these themes are echoed further in the tracks within.

Songs: Like a lot of Death cab albums (or pretty much all of them no biases here), the album starts off with one of its strongest tracks, Marching Bands of Manhattan. Quirky lyrics atop a dotted guitar picking and a subdued tambourine tell a far-off lover of the extent of how far our singer will go for her. City themes, primarily New York, give the listener a feeling of what home means, urban love with vast buildings and deep lakes and loud proclaiming noises. Shortly afterwards, a long and swelling crescendo hits with a repeated message. Don’t lose the love; I will do anything to let you know that it will be there for you.

“Sorrow drips into your heart, through a pinhole Just like a faucet that leaks and there is comfort in the sound But while you debate half empty or half full It slowly rises Your love is gonna drown”

Soul Meets Body is a familiar single off the album, continuing off that theme of proving a love to that special person. This song, with its more positive lyrics and bouncier beats and guitar pluckings, gives off a more hopeful vibe for the two, the singer wants to do everything for her, even past their lifetimes. As the title represents, this affection and love is a more emotional and spiritual kind. Summer Skin, however, deals with two people falling out of love, almost in a stark contrast. The song starts off with low yet sharp piano chords and a really good backbeat by drummer Jason McGerr. In comparison to Soul Meets Body, this relationship feels more like a simple fling, one to fit the times and the season, nothing more than a physical coat that gets shed off with a setting sun. The last verse is classic Death Cab, with these seemingly hopeless yet brutally honest words. They knew their relationship was ending and they peeled it off of each other as one last act together.

Different Names for the Same Thing feels like yet another extension off the previous song, with the singer aimless wandering by himself, no one else around him. Feeling lost yet hopeful in a way, taking a train with a old map, seemingly useless. The music quickly picks up, as the song is short on words, almost in a way to lead our singer to a different horizon. One thing that I will always love about this band is the great feeling of flow between the songs themselves. The albums as a whole feel stronger because of this, as a listener can relate with not just one, but a feeling of multiple. It feels less like a collection of songs and more like a structured and complete work.

Probably the most recognizable song off the album is the acoustic ballad I Will Follow You Into the Dark. With a simple strumming pattern and just Ben, the song is much simpler than previous works, but remains just as strong lyrically, even with the first line “Love of mine, someday you will die”. However, once again, we hear the singer proclaim a deep loving feeling, one that transcends our mortality. The mood evokes a Sound of Settling of sorts, with Ben realizing that their time is limited, but will not lose this feeling. We also get a rebuttal to Catholicism in the second verse, one that personally reflects on Gibbard’s more agnostic viewpoints. Not believing that “fear is the heart of love”, he leaves this life behind to discover true meaning with this special someone, someone that he will stay with until that fateful final day.

Your Heart is an Empty Room has the band rejoining as a whole, retaining the subdued electric guitars accenting over a melancholy acoustic line. Going back to the themes of leaving the city, the singer holds this feeling of starting over after a lost love. His empty room heart is all that seemed to remain after a burning breakup of sorts. There feels like this sense of hope with a new beginning and “so many possibilities”, to move on past that fire and that pain, possibly reflecting other works like Summer Skin, Tiny Vessels or A Lack of Color.

Continuing with a recurring mindset of losing love, Someday You Will Be Loved reassures that the singer is just not the right person. Falling back to this feeling of settling into sadness for Gibbard, he is willing to put himself through this for the sake of his lover. She must remain hopeful, must like the person in the preceding Empty Room.

You may feel alone When you're falling asleep Every time tears roll down your cheek But I know your heart belongs To someone you've yet to meet Someday you will be loved

Crooked Teeth again has a backdrop of a city, this time literally swallowing the two characters and their love. The album begins to take this less optimistic mood towards the last half and Gibbard almost feels helpless in these kinds of situations. Despite the want for a love and a relationship, it felt doomed from the start and in a similar vein to Tiny Vessels, there was no such love to be had or even forced out. The guitars take this nice solo of noise before the last chorus, finding the power to leave everything behind.

In a similar vein to the title track from Transatlanticism, What Sarah Said is the album’s longest work, piano driven and with another fantastic drum part in the back. The song takes the previous themes of love past life and death and puts it in a more realistic scenario, a hospital room. Over time, this song has taken so many meanings to me, especially recently with the passing of my father. In one more last plea for hope in the album as a whole, the poignant line comes through like that last beep on the LCD:

Love is watching someone die

This line takes so much meaning and can draw similar meanings throughout other songs on Plans; watching a relationship die like in Crooked Teeth or Summer Skin, watching a feeling of optimism die like in Marching Bands or Someday, or in a more literal sense like here and in I Will Follow You into the Dark. It’s a feeling that no one wants to go through, yet is a very real experience in so many walks of life, and it’s one that Gibbard puts in the forefront all along Plans.

Brothers On A Hotel Bed is perhaps my favorite track on this album. While I may have deeper connections to songs like Sarah and I Will Follow You and Marching Bands, this is the song I always come back to. The piano stays at the front, with this empty feeling melody, almost like we’re walking out of the hospital to a cold evening as the drums and bass kick in. Gibbard feels out of love again, but feels the fault is all his own. Changes that can’t seem to be helped, whether physical or over time. We get this wonderful second verse of wanting to escape the city, to venture out and live and “leave everything behind” and it really captures this feeling of an early love. That precious first few months of wanting to do everything before the final chapters come around and you’re barely feeling anything and you can’t help but feel it’s something inside you that made the relationship falter. It’s a song that hits very close to me as I know my failures in past relationships.

The album closes on the slowest track Stable Song, a more condensed version of Stability released on, well, The Stability EP. Again, we gets this depressive tone, this tone of resting easy yet out of love. This last half of the album is such a stark contrast to the optimistic overreaching from the first few tracks. We feel as if our love and our actions are all for naught and we’re left with questions and doubts and uncertainty that can never be truly shaken off. Ben doesn’t mind however, as repeated in the last few lines, and fades away to move on.

Conclusion: Death Cab’s strengths in albums come from this wonderful blend of emotional storytelling with a gloomy mood despite feelings of hopefulness and heart and Plans is no exception, perhaps even the best example. Listeners can feel that drop and that shatter of emotion across all spectrums and the songs only get better with age and time and firsthand experience. While Transatlanticism may still be my favorite, this follow up comes very very close. As drummer Jason McGerr perfectly sums it up “If Trans…was the inhale, Plans is the exhale”, and I wholly recommend you take a deep breath and check out both.

#music #rant #death cab for cutie #plans #dans album writeup #notcrazytaxi

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technotaught · 4 years ago

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The Complete Guide to Develop user-centered design

In this article, we give you the Complete Guide to Develop User-centered design. Usability and utility determine the success or failure of an internet site. Since the visitor of the page is that the only person who decides everything, the user-centered design has been established as a typical approach for profit-oriented web design. Over the past years, the user-centric approach has taken the front seat.

Developing a User-centered Website that Drives Great User Experiences.

User-centered design is a practice that caters to a user's needs and expectations, as opposed to forcing them to consume whatever is there. As the web has evolved, users became more sophisticated. The demand for user-specific content has increased. They expect relevant and valuable information served straight up that is easy to understand and designed to enhance usability. Key Areas to Enable a Smooth User Experience Ensuring content is tailored to the needs of the user is the first step in the process. This is achieved through a comprehensive operation process, uncovering the wants, user stories, functional specifications, basic wireframes, and prototyping. Here are some areas that need focus while developing a user-centric web design: Suggested: - Who is spying on you and how to make them stop Navigation No matter where a user arrives on your website, they should never be more than three clicks away from being able to access the information for which they are looking. This means consistency in your navigation menus, as well as keeping the number of menu items to an absolute minimum. An excellent navigation system should have no more than five elements. If the navigation and site architecture aren’t intuitive, the amount of question marks grows. It ultimately makes it harder for users to comprehend how the system works and how to get from point A to point B. A clear structure, moderate visual clues, and simply recognizable links can help users to seek out their path to their aim. Color Schemes Human eyes ideally use the principle of focus. The only element which is directly visible to the users is the thing which is attractive and appealing, but still calm and purely informative. Subtle hints provide users with enough information on how to find more about the product. Furthermore, these visual considerations are also subject to the whims and requirements of the users. You can try to combine simplicity with aesthetics with a rather laid-back color scheme. It allows you to make the most crucial elements of your website more prominent than the rest. Try to use color sparingly and have typography or font that is not too loud. Also Read: - 8 reasons why my site is not ranking on google Responsive Designs Irrespective of the genre or nature of the website you’re working on, you should never omit the importance of accessibility. Accessibility can be in various ways in terms of the search bar, navigation menus, content organization, and so on. Another aspect to consider is the organization of your website. Helpful descriptions come handy when users try to know which section or link results in what a part of the web site. Responsive design is, by far, the most popular and well-known solution for this purpose. If you would like, you'll also think about using different themes for mobile users and non-mobile users. Alternatively, you'll go the adaptive design route and offer a separate mobile version of your main website optimized for users browsing via portable devices. Communication The fundamental principles involved in the use of visible language is the content users see on a screen. Consistency, screen layout, relationships, and navigability are important concepts of organization. Further, it includes doing the most with the least amount of cues and visual elements like simplicity, clarity, distinctiveness, and emphasis. Communication, in such ways, matches the presentation to the capabilities of the user. The interface keeps in balance the legibility, readability, typography, symbolism, multiple views, and color or texture to speak successfully. From the visitors’ point of view, the simplest site design may be a pure text, with no advertisements or further content blocks matching precisely the query visitors used or the content for which they’ve been looking. Features Modern web designs use the approach of guiding users with visually appealing 1-2-3-done-steps, large buttons with visual effects, etc. From the design perspective, these elements are incredibly effective as they lead the visitors through the site content in an effortless and user-friendly way. Letting the user see what functions are available is a fundamental principle of successful user interface design. Complex structures are harder to read, scan, analyze. If you've got the selection between separating two design segments by a clear line or by some whitespace, it’s usually better to use the whitespace solution. What matters is that the content is well-understood, and visitors feel comfortable with the way they interact with the system. Suggested: - Google Search Tricks that 95% People Don't Know Content As the web is different from print, it’s necessary to regulate the literary genre to users’ preferences and browsing habits. Promotional writing, long text blocks without images, and keywords marked in bold or italics are some things people usually skip. People also like to ignore exaggerated language like marketing-induced names, company-specific names, and unfamiliar technical names. An optimal solution for effective writing is to use short and concise phrases and come to the point as quickly as possible. You can also use a layout that has multiple categories, heading levels, bulleted lists, and visual elements to break the uniform text block flow. Also, you can use plain and objective language and give some reasonable reason why they should stay on your website. Final Thoughts Designers must not forget the whole point of their trade is designing for the user. When that happens, you get sites that won’t frustrate users and end up being more than just a website i.e. the brand. There are many features of user-centered design on which to focus, but the consummate designer will take care to ascertain that each one of them is addressed successively. 9series is a leading website design services company that aims to complete a design process that has a good deal of thought and consideration. Your users are everything, so it stands to reason that you should design to make their experience as delightful as you can. Read the full article

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jonmartin40-blog · 5 years ago

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RANK YOUR BUSINESS IN TORONTO

Step by step instructions to Rank Your Brand New Website on Google:

Some Easy Tactics to Know for Rank your Business in Toronto

Site design improvement is a collection of systems and methods used to build the quantity of guests to a site by acquiring a high positioning in list items. A significant component of SEO is making your site clear for the two clients and web crawler robots.

How about we view the SEO: OFF-page SEO

OFF-page SEO

Off-page SEO alludes to the procedures that go past a site. Individuals partner off-page SEO with third party referencing, in any case, it is more than that. The various tips identified with this are:

1. Construct top notch back-links as it were:

Third party referencing is the most significant – and the most testing – SEO technique. Actually, with no top notch back-links, your site won't rank for serious and high traffic watchwords.

The sites with the most significant and pertinent back-links will at last position over the rest. Be that as it may, the precarious part is how you will get those quality back-links? Indeed, today I'm going to give you one of my preferred strategies to get the top notch back-links.

2. Broken third party referencing:

Broken third party referencing strategy is tied in with recognizing broken connections on sites from your business specialty. The principle point is to get the messed up interface supplanted with a functioning one highlighting your substance.

This method makes a critical open door for SEO external link establishment since no one needs to have broken connections on their site.

On the off chance that you locate any messed up joins on topically related sites, you can quickly contact the site proprietor and advise him about it. Since you will help him out by bringing up a messed up connect, you can likewise sympathetically demand a supplanting with a connect to your pertinent asset. Obviously, the substitution – your article – must be instructive and helpful for their crowd.

Suppose you have a site on "virtual help." Go to Google and search with one of the accompanying hunt strings.

Rank Your Business In Toronto

Digital Marketing Services Toronto

Internet Marketing Company Toronto

Social Media Marketing Toronto

Seo Services Toronto

Web Development Services Toronto

Domain And Hosting Toronto

Email Marketing Toronto

To recognize broken connections, open all the outcomes individually and examine each page utilizing Check My Links module. When you discover one, compose an email to the site proprietor about the dead connection and compassionately solicitation to supplant it with your dynamic page.

3. High rise method:

The high rise strategy is a famous and compelling technique, presented by Brian Dean, to improve search rankings and lift the significance of your site.

It includes three stages:

Locate a linkable resource that you can utilize over and over, a benefit which is both instructive and magnificent. Validness is the 'name of the game' here.

At that point enhance what exists by making the substance longer with progressively important watchwords.

At last, contact the ideal individuals: the individuals who work in your specialty and have sites like yours. Instead of sending irregular virus messages, it's smarter to contact the individuals who really have a notoriety in the business. Connecting to their pages will give you a major lift in rush hour gridlock.

4. Guestographics strategy:

Another external link establishment procedure that utilizes infographics. With this technique, rather than distributing an infographic and asking others to share it, you're pushing them to discharge it on their site

Rank Your Business In Toronto

in return for novel substance.

The total advances are:

Stage 1: Post an infographic on your site

Stage 2: Find locales that expound on your infographic's subject

Stage 3: Show them your infographic

Stage 4: Offer them interesting substance

Stage 5: Get your relevant backlinks consequently

5. Visitor post on applicable online journals

The advantages of visitor blogging are clear:

You land backlinks from power locales.

Individuals admire you as a specialist.

Directed referral traffic floods to your site.

Discovering websites to visitor post through Google search strings:

Here are a couple of search strings:

– think of us "your theme."

– your watchword + "visitor post by."

State your theme is the menial helper. Go to Google and quest for "

Rank Your Business In Toronto

Likewise, you can utilize Google turn around picture search, use Twitter and Google to discover more posts, and go to alltop.com which has a total rundown of the best websites on the net.

Inquiring about your objective bloggers is significant when you need to isolate the victors from the failures and comfortable up to them by connecting with them on Twitter/Facebook or by means of messages.

Locate an incredible and proper theme to compose a visitor post about. For instance, a meat-related post on a veggie lover blog webpage will get dismissed so it's critical to realize what you are managing.

Have an extraordinary pitch prepared to convince bloggers to permit you to compose for the visitor post for them.

The last advance is to catch up on any remarks immediately and completely.

6. Answer on Quora:

Quora is where clients produce the substance altogether. They post questions through strings and different clients answer them. It's fundamentally a yahoo answers type interpersonal organization that works like a web discussion. The two strings and answers can get "upvotes" which mean the appropriate response was commendable and well known.

The appropriate responses with the most upvotes are put at the string's top.

Quora is incredible for:

Sites that depend on traffic for income (Ad distributers, associate locales, content distributers).

Sites that sell data items.

Sites that sell items (SEO devices, kids' tennis shoes, espresso processors).

Bloggers that need to set up themselves as an expert on their topic.

7. Blog remarking:

Remarking on web

Rank Your Business In Toronto

journals assists with making backlinks, which thusly make traffic for your blog. A large portion of these connections are useless and in this manner convey little worth, however the procedure is as yet accommodating. For new web journals, remarks – client produced content – will help get a site recorded quicker. Remarking causes drive referral traffic to your blog.

In any case, it is essential to post a significant remark. Normal remarking is the most ideal approach to associate with any blogger by and by. While it can require some investment to make these associations, you will be seen by the webpage's manager and other co-bloggers which can be beneficial over the long haul.

8. Connection roundups

Connection gatherings are chosen and sorted out updates from bloggers that connection out to their preferred substance during a given period. Gatherings are commonly valuable connections. It's extremely difficult to clergyman content as it includes a great deal of work. The bloggers making these gatherings are effectively looking for substance to connection to. You can land interfaces in packs. After some time, you will pick up roundup inclusion normally. After you pitch the blogger who ministers the gathering, you ought to interface via web-based networking media. That way, they'll find your future updates normally. I've increased some backlinks from interface roundups.

9. Be dynamic via web-based networking media

Despite the fact that Google doesn't hold a lot of stock in web based life most definitely, you can really improve your website's prominence and traffic by being dynamic on Facebook, Google+ or Twitter. The more you present connections on your websites on informal communities, the higher the possibility individuals will visit your blog in

Rank Your Business In Toronto

, in this way expanding rush hour gridlock.

10. Advance your new blog

Advancing your websites is essential to tell individuals of its reality and to improve traffic by

Rank Your Business In Toronto

. The more you advance, the better your blog's significance is shown and prominence takes off. Prior to distributing your new bit of substance, connect with a compelling blogger in your industry. When your substance is distributed, share it via web-based networking media and notice the individuals you've referenced. Whenever you notice somebody, incorporate a connect to somebody's article and illuminate that individual by sending an email.

With

Rank Your Business In Toronto

, you can get in a powerful bloggers inbox regardless of whether you don't have their email address. Contact individuals who have had comparable substance to the thing you simply distributed and if conceivable, transform the substance into a video to speak to a totally unique crowd.

11. Stay refreshed with Google's calculation

Google refreshes its inquiry calculation often.Google rolled out critical improvements to AdWords, evacuating right-section promotions and turning out 4-advertisement top squares on numerous business look. While this was a paid hunt update, it had critical ramifications for CTR for both paid and natural outcomes, particularly on serious catchphrases.

These sorts of changes must be comprehended to design a procedure with respect to site positioning in Rank Your Business In Toronto.

#seo #digital marketing

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chukwudobelum · 5 years ago

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5TH INSPIRATIONAL ARTICLE

THEME: THE POSITIVITY I TRAINED

For me, the definition of positivity is hardwork into action to defeat laziness, For laziness takes the place of negativity. Your success is in your hands, achieving success is your capability to do more work. Remember the theme our 3rd Inspirational article"My Dream My Aim". It is your aim to make plans for success, the positivity to train can be reading habits, the positivity to train can be waking up early in the morning, the positivity to train can be your good manners etc.

I can remember a comrade of mine telling me that ' hey! Mike the gym is good to you ', for me that sounds nice, it pleased me hearing that from someone who I thought would have given me a bad comment on the new development of my body. Relating this to the positivity I trained, you will see that it took me my time, effort, days, months, to get a good look of my body shape. It is good when people see the positivity you trained as success in your life, career, and in academic life. Success doesn't come from above, a price was paid to see it manifesting in your life, do not be discouraged when, friends, family, neighbors look at you doing something difficult that will give you joy, and fame you tomorrow and tell you it will be very bad after doing this things, and later on your story becomes something else bad. Always guide your thoughts with this ' it must end in praise '. The people we see in our individual viewpoints today as successful figures trained their good names either in hardwork or in hardwork, that is just the common truth.

Train something positive, and be happy, I will say in my quote " kill the laziness in your young age, and be happy in your old age ", working hard when you are fit, healthy for the work, also my spiritual father will say " whatever you eat in your young age will determine how healthy you will be in your old age ". In training something positive there are so many ups and downs one must surely face, or pass through to get to the success top, or height of the positivity.

When you train, and get good positivity, negativity becomes an alternative in your life, career, and even in achieving your good dream, for positivity with take the place of negativity, and all other enemy that would have taken you down the drain.

Training something good is never easy, be it habit, good manners, moral, or even good timing.

Yes the year (2019) is gradually coming to an end, there will also be so many departments on success, and failure.

- Department of those who will thank God (The creator) for the gift of life.

- Department of those who will thank God for success in career.

- Department of those who will be grateful to God for success in business.

- Department of those who will be grateful to God for fame, and not shame they achieved.

- Department of those who will be grateful to God for success in academics.

- Departments of those who will be grateful to God for married life.

- Department of those who will be grateful to God for they never go bankrupt.

- Department of those who will be grateful to God for promotions, and awards of merit they received.

- Department of those who will be in deep regret for not achieving a dime.

- Department of those who will curse their fate.

- Department of those who will blame other people for not helping them to achieve success.

- Department of those who will be ashamed of themselves for being lazy.

- Department of those who will be in regret of following the wrong way to achieve success.

- Department of those who will blame themselves for training negativity, using it as a corner Stone instead of positivity. And many more.

Ask yourself this question ' if appeared in this Inspirational article several departments of both success, and failure where did I fall in? '. Had it been you trained something positive, you should have been smiling for you have fought a wonderful fight, and you give it a win jollification, for success is happiness.

It is never too late until you give up, the year is coming to and end, but never the end, another year (2020) is also close to start, or begin it's semester, it depends on how you prepare yourself now, your business, career, academic life etc, that will grantee you the level of success you want or need. Say No to laziness ( negativity ), and say yes to hardwork ( positivity ) for hardwork is success.

A common question people ask often is how those who make it to the top attain their success, remember in achieving anything good, or bad a price must be paid, one of the many answers to the this question could be hidden in what they adopt as their daily rituals.

WHAT ARE RITUALS?

Any practice or pattern of behaviour regularly performed in a set of manner.

Rituals help to develop healthy habits as well as the discipline you need to succeed (positivity).

Introducing new rituals into your daily life can seem intimidating at first, but it is something that you can achieve. It starts with deciding what daily ritual or rituals you want to adopt, committing to them to at least thirty days (30 days), and then tweaking them if necessary. The process won't, and can never always be an easy or consistent one, but with the potential benefits that come with it are innumerable, I ( Chukwudobelum), I'm a witness.

SOME RITUALS ONE CAN TRAIN TO BE SUCCESSFUL

WAKE UP EARLY

Waking up early can be challenging especially if you don't see yourself as a morning person. However, waking up early before the sunrises could give you a great head start, and get your day on the right track. When you are early to rise, you are more likely to racing against the clock because you Sept in until noon. Learn to wake up early for the nature also will bless, and make your day good.

MEDITATE EVERY MORNING

You have likely heard so much buzz about meditation that if you didn't care about it before, you are curious to see if what all the hype is about now. It is a practice where you use techniques to train your attention and awareness. The ultimate goal of meditation should be to make yourself mentally calm, and emotionally stable. For those that are new to meditation, you can start by getting comfortable, and preparing to sit still for a few minutes, you then focus your attention on your inhale, and exhale, and follow your breath for at least two minutes.

PLAN YOUR DAY ALWAYS

Planning your day early should help you better manage your time as you will know exactly what your objectively for the day are, and you won't get lost in all the fluffiness surrounding you (like watching TV). Always have a note book, write down the things you want to accomplish, while also using that time to brainstorm your tasks. Have you thought about a ceremony that has no planning committee, you should be the chairman planning committee of your dream, for your success is in your hands.

MAKE TIME FOR THINGS YOU VALUE

Getting so caught up in your desire to succeed can keep you from living a balanced life. To stay grounded, don't forget to connect with the people, and things that you love. A failure to do so could result in you neglecting your support system or the things that make you who you are.

EXERCISE

There are endless benefits of exercise, and this may be why so many successful people have it on their list of daily rituals, which I (Chukwudobelum) have adopted that to be the third on my list of daily rituals, you also can have it on your list, for it will make you fit to achieve success. Barack Obama, former president of the United States, said he would start his day early so that he could prioritize exercise. Exercise could be a key to success, because it is said to improve your cognitive functioning. Exercise can help build your mental strength, which is something you will need to overcome the obstacles you may face. This goes to say that although has many benefits for your body, it does a great deal for your mind, too. Exercise acts as a confidence booster while, at the same time, nourishing the body with endorphins, and everything else that comes with increasing ones heart rate. Make it a habit, and you live to see many more years.

READING OFTEN

Adult life can be so hectic that you seldom find time to read books, I can remember one famous person who I once read his history, who takes reading seriously - WARREN BUFFET, he dedicates 80% of each day to reading, in his philosophy,he says that " when you read, your knowledge builds up like compound interest ", this is a true one, as well an inspiring one, reading takes you to places you never has been before, it opens your eye to know what you could have lost. Reading will tell you of the history, it will place you in a dilemma of not going back to failure if you make it a habit. Reading helps you to know the ' true ', and ' false '. With this in your mind, be selective about the books you read, as highly successful individuals tend to choose education over entertainment, though indulging in fantasy, fiction, and all other kinds of genres probably won't really hurt you either.

CARRY A NOTEBOOK

You never can tell when inspiration will strike, I can remember vividly a day I was on a bus travelling, in my bag I had no notebook, and my phone was battery low, an inspirational was flowing from a fellow passenger, to me it was sounding so banal for I had nothing to jot down Good things he (the passenger) was saying, though I can still remember the theme of his sermon that very morning (the theme was a true disciple), that taught me a big lesson of my life. So always carry a notebook around with you, this gives you a chance to jot down notes, and ideas that you would otherwise forget. You can have a number of notebooks, and place them in your daily bag, office, and anywhere else you are regularly. When everything is written down, you know that your best ideas are kept in a safe place. Some people may choose to keep this idea notebook separate from daily journal, and others might be happier combining all of their experiences, and ideas into one singular place, so find what works best for you.

With consistency, you should begin to see yourself blossoming into the successful person you have always envisioned yourself to be. Training something positive have been said in so many paragraphs in this article is not, and can never be easy, try alot of different things, and be honest with yourself about what works, and what doesn't work. In no time, you will have your own positive habits that help push you into being what you consider a successful person, even if that is not the same as what it is for everyone else. Just don't give up, remember it takes real grit to stand up to failure.

In training something positive can also be greatly driven by other people. By having good friends, show me your friend and I will tell you who you are like they say, sometimes the type of friend we keep determines the type of success we have, when you surround yourself with good people, staying phlegm with them you will come to realize that bad friends doesn't help. When you surround yourself with good friends, keeping bad friends becomes the least things you will never do.

- Surrounding yourself with the right type of people can help success come more naturally to you than being around those who might hold you back, or even take you down the drain.

- Keeping close to people with big Dream and plans for themselves, because seeing other people's drive will keep you hungry to reach your goals.

- Negative attitudes you know can drag you down work ethic, and don't offer any Inspiration, but people with positive attitudes can help keep motivation, and morale help.

- People who ask lots of questions may provide a different angle on an issue or an idea, which could ultimately lead to an important breakthrough for you or your business.

The people we choose to surround ourselves with impacts the way we think, act, and feel on a day-to-day basis. A young football player is going to succeed if he surrounds himself with people who push him to become better, not people who distract him from his potential.

To conclude, you are the sum of who you spend your time with, I will say in my quote that " anyone who calls you good names, but doesn't want to show you how to be good is never a friend ". Make sure that you are directly involved with people who lift you, Inspire you, and motivate you to do, and be more. As you grow and your business grows, this might mean changing friends, and colleagues, and that is part of life. Just trust that hardwork, positivity, and keeping your sights high are things you cannot risk deviating from if you want the life of your dreams. To add up I will say " many wants to jump on the bandwagon of my Media , not because I'm too good, but because there's something to gain ". Remain positive to success!, and fill your days with good people and be good.

BY: CHUKWUDOBELUM

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