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fabricated-misslieness · 1 year

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ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: sully kids x hard of hearing metkayina male reader (platonic)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: In a search for a way to communicate with you, the family has to master Na'vi sign language. Along the way of teaching them, however, you learn more about yourself.

ᴀɴᴏɴ: can you do a male Metkayina clan reader BUT the reader is hard of hearing because of the water from swimming.

ʀᴇ𝐐: yes ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6148 ~ extra ~ gn reader vers.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: feelings of shame and embarrassment, struggling to hear and understand people (and yourself), hints of angst

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: we don't have resources for their exact sign language so i made some things up (since na'vi sign language isn't the same as asl) as well as iknimaya trials and traditions.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Ever since you were a kid, you had always loved the ocean. The Metkayina clan was a tribe of the water, the ocean, so it made sense; but unlike others your age who preferred to play with each other, you enjoyed being completely surrounded by Eywa's children within the ocean.

You had no qualms with solitude, as all you needed was the sea; but eventually, it proved to be a problem.

The sea gives and the sea takes; it gave you a world to love and took your hearing.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tsireya introduced you to Sully's in their first lesson as one of the Metkayina who truly loved the ocean. "This is our best free diver," She put a hand on your shoulder, "(y/n). You're lucky I managed to find him."

Instead of responding in some negative way at her comment, you grin and offer a small wave.

"How so?" Lo'ak questions.

Tsireya doesn't answer outright. She giggles, "You'll see."

The chief's children and you jump into the water, demonstrating the proper way to dive in that best transitions into swimming. The Sully's, on the other hand, jump into the water as though in play.

You could see it in their eyes, their amazement. The sea was an entirely different world from the one above, it was something you loved about it.

Only the Na'vi and their animal companions mingled on the coast above. The ilu could be compared to their banshees, nothing special; and the people, though physically different, were still Na'vi.

You didn't doubt that these water creatures were unlike anything they'd seen before, and you were happy that they were astonished with the wildlife you, too, loved.

You turn back forward to swim, knowing that they'll follow. You show them the form, using your tail to help and keeping your body like a spear to be able to cut through the water.

You lead them deeper into the sea, but Ao'nung taps your shoulder. You turn to follow his finger, which points up.

The Sully's were taking a breath of air. Right, that's probably something you should teach them, but you were probably not the best teacher.

Within the water, your safe haven, you tended to forget many things, so you signed to them, keep going, forgetting they didn't know how to sign.

You keep swimming, this time checking up on them as you reach an underwater slope. They were bad swimmers, it seemed, which is an idea sort of incomprehensible to you, as every Metkayina was basically born in the ocean. They pushed off of coral and rock formations to push forward and keep up.

They don't even make it to you when they go back up for air.

What's wrong with them? Ao'nung signs.

They're bad divers. Rotxo replies. Though fingers and hands hardly conveyed emotion, you knew from Rotxo and Ao'nung's generally jokester demeanor that he was making fun of them.

Stop, they're learning. Tsireya scolds.

Whilst they talk to one another, you get distracted with something out of the corner of your eye. It was bioluminescence, hardly noticeable during the daytime, which is why it's so curious. You forget the lesson at hand and follow it.

The chief's children and Rotxo swim up to talk to the Sully's where they will actually understand each other. It is only after Tsireya promises to teach them sign language, which Neteyam ignorantly describes as "finger talk", that they notice you and their dear sister's disappearance.

The bioluminescence you had caught came from a lone hammerhead squid, which is even more peculiar because it was alone. Perhaps it was paranoid, because when it saw you, it began swimming away with determination.

You struggle to catch up with it.

It dives behind large coral, hoping to lose you, but you always catch up. Hammerhead squids found safety in numbers, so they usually didn't go so fast, which means it would tire out soon.

Knowing this, you kept up the chase. Regardless, however, it puts up a good fight.

It shoots out its ink prematurely. The black liquid disperses in the water, clouding much of the view ahead of you. Instead of swimming through it, you dive under, although you almost bump into a sharp rock. Narrowly, you avoid it, swimming up quickly once you're past the ink.

Though you move past it, its original outcome–clouding your view–succeeds. When you clear the ink, you suddenly bump into someone.

Sorry. You sign, rubbing at your forehead where you'd bumped into her, so so sorry.

The girl before you is one of the Sully's. Her eyebrows furrow, confusion in her face, but you misinterpret it as anger. Great, it's the Sully's first day in the clan and you were already giving bad impressions.

I didn't mean to bump into you.

Her eyebrows furrow further. Ultimately, although she doesn't like it, she decides to surface so that the two of you may speak. She points up and you understand.

Once you're up at the surface, she says, "I don't know what you're saying."

You had long since memorized the way one's mouth moves when they say those words, and their variations, so you explain, "I was apologizing for bumping into you."

Though the next couple words come muddled to you, you just barely catch her saying "alright" and a wave of relief washes over you. "What's your name?"

"Kiri." She gives you a polite smile.

"Nice to meet you, Kiri." You nod. "I didn't realize we'd lost you while diving. Why'd you wander off?"

"Oh, I um," She worries that you may think her a freak, so she waters it down. "I got distracted."

You chuckle, "Yeah, I get it. Happens a lot to me too. It's like a different world, isn't it?"

Her face lights up when you agree with her, "Yeah, it is." She ached to observe it again, to be surrounded by Eywa'eveng. "Do you mind if I..?" She gestures down.

You tilt your head, confused. "You what?"

"Go down again." Kiri mutters, little ashamed to say out loud that she'd rather be underwater than talk with you, but you manage to read her lips.

"Oh, of course I don't." You shake your head, "Actually, I was in the middle of finding something. Do you wanna come with?"

Though she much preferred to take the sights all in on her own and on her own time, she had to admit your offer was interesting. "Okay, sure." She nods.

Kiri follows you back underwater, and keeps swimming after you. Reminded of the other Sully's, you make sure to keep your head straight and swim at a slower pace.

As you keep swimming past large coral and columns of algae, trying to catch a glimpse of the squid you were searching for before, Kiri gets distracted by something particularly special out of the corner of her eye.

She stays in place, entranced, and almost swims for it before remembering the task at hand. However, when she turns to you, you're swimming back to her.

Txampaysye. You sign, but of course she wouldn't understand. So, you wave your hand in the water to create ripples in the current and signify the water. Then, you pass a hand from your stomach to your throat and out your mouth to signify breathing. Breathing underwater.

Somehow, she understands. Though the butterfly-like Txampaysye catches her attention, uncharacteristically of her, she gestures for you to keep going. She'll have time another day.

Just a bit of swimming later, you find the squid again. It doesn't notice you. You point at it and Kiri's head tilts with curiosity.

How could a squid be bioluminescent in the day? The sunlight's rays still reached it.

Do you want to catch it? You closed your hand, from splayed fingers into a fist very quickly, the sign for catch. It was pretty straight forward, so Kiri understood; what she didn't understand, and what she was against, was the idea.

The question was only formal. You swim forward without waiting for her answer, thinking she wanted to catch it.

You approach it as silently as possible, keeping your arms to your body and swaying up and down, using your feet like a fin. You keep your tail rigid and in place, for paddling it side to side as opposed to up and down like your legs would create unnecessary noise.

Once you are close enough, you lunge with a quick, sharp movement. It doesn't have time to react before you catch it between your fingers and palm.

Triumphantly, you turn to Kiri with your hand raised, failing to notice her growing anger. You swim towards her with enthusiasm.

Fyìp ioang. You sign.

For a moment you think you may be misinterpreting confusion as anger again, but you quickly realize you're interpreting correctly. Kiri pries your fingers apart, freeing the creature who spurts the last of its ink (only a little) and leaves.

Her eyebrows are furrowed, a look you hate, and she points up towards the surface again. You follow, embarrasment beginning to spread through your body.

"You shouldn't be taking animals against their will." She scolds, pointing an accusatory finger at you. Her anger was loud and clear in her voice, loud enough for you to hear.

"Sorry." You purse your lips and mumble so low you can't even hear it yourself, "I was only curious."

She huffs, "Your curiosity doesn't mean you can imprison them just to poke and prod."

"Yeah," You point your gaze down, "you're right."

"Just don't do it again." With that, she begins to swim away, not caring if you follow her.

With shame, you dive back into the water, in search of one of your favorite places to soothe yourself.

She was right, of course, but your curiosity was often one of your driving points. It was why you spent most of your time in the ocean, what kept you entertained underwater. On the other hand, it was also why you'd lost so much of your hearing.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The next morning, on their way to their second lesson, the Sully's find you.

Lo'ak, after yesterday, now understands why Tsireya was lucky to find you before. He thinks they're pretty lucky today, too, as it seems you're going to head into the ocean. "(y/n)!" He calls for your attention, but you don't hear him.

You're just about to dive in, so Lo'ak hurries up to meet you. He catches you by the shoulder. "Hey."

"Hey." You greet him with a smile. "What's up?"

"You left us yesterday. Where'd you go?" He asks curiously.

"I'm sorry, what?" You ask, having not heard him entirely.

"Where'd you go?" He repeats.

Again, you don't hear him. You purse your lips, the shame of not being able to understand people creeping in. "Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you."

"Where did you go?" Lo'ak repeats for the third time, slowing down his speech.

"Look, I'm really sorry–"

Neteyam catches up, slinging an arm over Lo'ak's shoulder. "What my brother means to ask is where you went yesterday, when you were supposed to be teaching us."

"Teach you?" You tilt your head as you think. Did the Olo'eyktan assign you something? Tsireya only took the opportunity because she saw you yesterday. You can't think of anything, though. "What am I supposed to teach you?"

Lo'ak sighs, "When you were teaching us how to free dive?"

The sigh makes you purse your lips. Your stupid ears were making people frustrated again. Still, you couldn't say anything when you didn't understand them. "...what about it?"

Tsireya comes to save you, noticing the struggle between you and the Sully's. "(y/n), here," She begins, pushing Lo'ak's hand off your shoulder, "struggles to hear, if you guys haven't noticed."

She signs to you, taking advantage of the fact they don't know how to sign. Do you want them to know your story?

You shake your head, to which she nods.

"It'd be much appreciated if you guys spoke louder, spoke clearer, and moved your mouths wider." She demonstrates the way they should speak as she instructs them. "It helps him to be able to read your lips until you learn how to sign."

"So he can hear us?" Lo'ak asks.

"Barely." You respond, reminding him that you are in fact in this conversation.

Neteyam nods, rubbing a burn into his brother's scalp. "Sorry, Lo'ak needs to remember these sorts of things."

"Shut up, bro." He pushes his brother away, causing him to skid sideways a few paces.

"(y/n), you would be a great help in teaching them sign language." Tsireya turns to you, signing as she speaks.

You understand, but you purse your lips. "Today? I sort of wanted to explore..."

"Doesn't have to be today, no," She shakes her head, "today is about breathing. If you want to leave, that's perfectly alright."

She smiles at you. Oh, Eywa, you loved Tsireya. She was so kind.

You take her permission and give a wave before diving into the water.

You swim farther into the ocean, trying to wash off your embarrassment with the cool water. It burned in your cheeks, anyway.

When the Olo'eyktan and Tsahìk found out about your hearing loss, you had already reached a point where there was no way to be healed. Everyone blamed your parents, their neglect for your ears and the proper care after a swim. But in truth, you knew you were also to blame.

It had been a long time since you were a burden. The Metkayina accommodated for your hearing loss. You were lucky to be born in the clan who originated the language that didn't require hearing. You had long since come to a comfortable life because of it.

When you realize that the embarrassment won't wear off so easy, you lay down on the sea grass covered sand—or lay down as best you can. The current pushes your head and limbs up.

Your intent was to relax, but the bioluminescent squid from yesterday pops up above you. You react quickly, reaching out and trapping it in your hand again.

You. You sign, awkward because you're one-handed, You embarrassed me in front of Kiri.

You'd missed two of its tentacles in grabbing it. It crosses its arms, giving you attitude, then pointed at you instead. Somehow, you understand.

Alright, fine. You huff, It's my fault. You release the squid, but this time it lingers. You forgive me?

It waves two of its tentacles up and down as if to nod its head.

You pluck a small fish from its school and hand it over as an extra peace offering. Sorry, fyìp.

It stares blankly at your offering. Clearly, it was refusing it, because it was definitely capable of catching that fish on its own. Also, you were ignoring the lesson Kiri taught you. You release the fish, which scurries back to its school, signing sorry again.

Why do you want to hang out with me?

The tentacles at its sides raise up in a shrug.

You lost your group. You purse your lips, extending your hand so that the squid may sit on it, even if it is redundant underwater. Are you trying to find a new one?

It shrugs again, though accepts the spot you give it on your hand.

Well, I suppose we're the same in that. You and I, we're special. I'm hard of hearing, and you're bioluminescent. You laugh inwardly, Although, those are two different things.

Fyìp does a twirl in your hand. It seems pleased.

Alright, let's go. I'll show you some of my favorite places.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

After the Sully's breathing exercises, Neteyam is eager to find you. He dives into the water, both practicing his breathing and speed.

For the third time, he's lucky to find you returning to the village for dinner, this time you were fortunately not caught up in exploring the sea.

Neteyam waves his hand in greeting. You do the same, though you hadn't realized he had more to say.

(y/n). He signs.

Immediately, your eyes light up. Neteyam is delighted.

Who taught you that? You sign. Your hands are a flurry of speed, but he manages to catch the words anyway.

He recognized "you" and "taught" and the distinct lack of "I", so he can assume what you asked. Tsireya. He signs simply, for she hadn't taught him much more than that and your names.

I'll teach you too.

He recognizes "I", "teach", and "you", and understands. He nods excitedly, then points up towards the surface. You follow.

"You're learning." You grin as you surface.

"Yeah." His smile turns bashful, "I want to learn so I can talk to you better." He even exaggerates the movement of his lips so that you may read them.

"Aww, that's sweet." Though you've only known him for so long, you give him a hug. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me." He shakes his head, still holding your elbows gently even as you part from the hug, "It's just what I should do."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Oh, you skxawng! You're late, you're late, you're late!

Too caught up within the serenity that the sea brought you, you had forgotten that you were supposed to be teaching the Sully's sign language!

You swim towards the shore with much hurry. Your body was preoccupied with a mission, to get there fast, and your mind was berating you for being stuck in your head so much. Because of it, you're not exactly focusing on the world around you.

"Oof!" You grunt as you bump into a column. It was one of the ones that supported the Marui pods above.

You pull yourself up onto your elbows on the pathway between pods, spitting out the water you'd caught in your mouth when you bumped so stupidly into a column.

Your squid friend jumps up too, sticking to your leg then climbing up to your shoulder. Its sticky tentacles feel weird on your skin, but you pay it no mind. Instead, you focus on cradling the spot on your forehead where you collided.

When Fyìp lands on your shoulder, you turn to it with a huff and go back to rubbing your head. Then, once you actually notice, you double take back to it.

"You can go above the surface?"

Now, no longer muffled by the water, you can just barely catch its squeal. Huh, so it was making sound all this time.

It twirls around your shoulder as if to say yes.

You turn your head back forward, resting your chin on the pathway. "I'm so stupid–wait." The Sully's and the chief's children are having the lesson quite a few ways ahead of you. They didn't seem to notice you. "It's them."

Fyìp's eyes almost seem to light up when it sees Kiri.

"Gah, should I really be joining them now? I'm so late!" You frown, thinking it over. "I'd be so lost," You narrate your thoughts for Fyìp, "every time I think about something to teach, what if they already taught it? What even is their teaching plan? I shouldn't have gone out today. Should've stayed to talk to Tsireya."

Thanks to your awful hearing and tunnel-vision, you don't notice Fyìp yapping in your ear. Only when it slaps you on the shoulder–it was a small animal, hardly hurt–do you pay attention to it.

"What?" You whine, now rubbing your shoulder.

Fyìp points forward vigorously, pulling its tentacle forwafd and back repeatedly.

"It'll be so embarrassing."

It crosses its arms in front of itself like a no. Even though you're sure it will be, Fyìp's insistence reminds you of your promise to Neteyam. It wasn't broken just yet.

"Okay, fine."

At your affirmation, Fyìp drops back into the water. You follow suit.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Learning a new language, later in your life, was always hard. Although, Jake Sully was the only one in his family with that experience.

"Lo'ak, why are you home early?" Jake and Neytiri rush over to him, sitting down as he does.

"Sign language is so hard." Lo'ak groans, his head down.

"Learning another language is hard," Jake affirms, putting a reassuring hand on his son's shoulder. "but it's like everything else. With practice, you'll get the hang of it."

"At first, he was terrible at Na'vi too." Neytiri grins, causing Jake to roll his eyes.

"Yes, and I became better." He gives her a pointed look, to which she only replies by baring her fangs playfully.

"Well, it's more than that." Lo'ak frowns, looking down at his hands, the very reason he was so different. "I have five fingers! Everyone else has four. Whenever there's a sign that requires fingers, everyone stares at me and Kiri. Their looks are so blank, but I can tell what they're thinking."

"So why didn't you say something?" Jake asks. "It's unlike you to not do anything."

It was a good question that left him silent as he thought. He didn't really know the answer, not as he dug through the surface of his mind. As he searched deeper, he found an answer, but he didn't really want to believe it. "It's because... Tsireya and (y/n) were there."

"And..?" Neytiri prods for him to continue.

"I don't want to disappoint them..." Lo'ak purses his lips, "or be a burden to them."

"Son," Jake places his hands on both Lo'ak's shoulders, causing him to finally look up at him. Jake wanted to be sure that Lo'ak understood the sentiment behind his words. "you're only learning. You can't disappoint them. And if they get upset at you, then that's their fault because they do not understand you and who you are."

"Next time," Neytiri speaks up, catching their attention, "make an arrangement. Find a way to work around it. Alright?"

Lo'ak nods, "Okay."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Usually, you were the one sought out within the Metkayina if they ever needed you because you were always doing something in the ocean. The sea was vast and cluttered, from seawall terrace to the shore, it was all within the realm of possibility of where you were.

But, for once, you're seeking someone out.

"Kiri!" You call, "I was looking for you."

She emerges from the ocean, ringing the water out of her hair. Too caught up in the sights and feeling Eywa in the sea, she had missed dinner. You could relate to that, so you had to make sure she was taking care of herself.

"What is it?" Kiri asks, treading carefully on her words.

"I saved you some dinner." You hand her a leaf dish of fish.

"Oh." Only once she sees the food does she remember her growling stomach and hunger. "Thank you." She takes the leaf from you gingerly but begins to scarf it down once it's in her own hands.

"It's no problem." You begin, "Sometimes I accidentally skip dinner too. I know the feeling of great hunger in the morning."

Kiri nods in understanding.

"Make sure to get the water out of your ears." You enthusiastically demonstrate by tipping your head to the side and tapping the side of it. "You don't want to end up like me."

Kiri almost chokes on her food. She coughs and puts it on the sand temporarily. "Like you?"

"You know," She doesn't know how you can retain a smile like this. "bad hearing and all."

Ever since you'd lost the majority of your hearing, the adults started using you as an example of what not to do. Not only did they advice the young ones while using your example, they also advised your peers. At first, it was embarrassing, but you began to understand why you were an example and had long since grown used to the embarrassment it brought.

"(y/n), are you using yourself as an example?"

"What?" You tease, "Wanna end up like me?"

"No, (y/n), that's not what I mean." She takes both your hands in hers. "You shouldn't be using yourself as an example of what happens if you don't take care of yourself."

"Why not?" It was pretty normal to you now. You purse your lips, "Everyone uses me as an example. I am what happens if you don't–"

"Because," Kiri breathes out in disbelief, "you're more than an example. You're your own person. You're more than your past mistakes."

"You're right," You snicker at the thought, "just like last time."

"I'm just saying what has to be said." She reassures, rubbing her thumbs over the back of your hands, "Value yourself more."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The trend of you seeking other people out, when it'd always been the opposite before, followed along for Lo'ak.

After your sign language lessons, you retreated into the ocean to clear your thoughts. Now that you had what you were looking for, you had to find Lo'ak, which thankfully doesn't take long.

"Lo'ak!" You call as your eyes find him.

He himself seemed to be searching for you too, so when he sees you, his eyes brighten. He covers the ground between you two quickly. "Hey, I was just looking for you."

"Me too. Do you wanna go first?"

He nods, "I found out a way we can work around my fingers."

"Your fingers?" You tilt your head forward.

"Yeah." He shows them off, wiggling all five for you.

"What about them?"

"Oh," He realizes the question wasn't because you'd somehow forgotten how many he had, but because you hadn't heard the rest of his sentence. He speaks with his mouth wider for you, "I found a way to work around them."

"That's what I was trying to find you for, actually." You snicker, "I found a way to work with them."

"With them?" He hadn't thought it possible.

"Yep." You grin, "Oh, but you were going first. Go on."

"Right, um," Lo'ak lifts one of his hands with the other, up to your view, then he pulls his last finger down. "I was thinking we could tie down my pinkie."

"Your pinkie?"

"My last finger, the smallest, it's called the pinkie."

"Okay, right." You nod.

"Tie it down with like a, um," He snaps his fingers while he thinks. "rope or something until I learn to stop using it."

After hearing his thought, you burst out laughing. It leaves Lo'ak confused. He stands there awkwardly, arms falling down to his sides with a building shame because he can't understand what you were laughing at.

"Sorry, um," You shake your head to wipe the laughter from your face, "that's too cruel, Lo'ak."

"Cruel?" He asks, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah, don't you think? It's just like what your sister taught me. We shouldn't take things against their will." You hold his hand to bring it back between the two of you and press his pinkie down against his palm. The force you put on his knuckle and the position is rather uncomfortable for Lo'ak, and it shows in his face. "See?"

"Yeah, you're right." He mutters, then realizes his mistake. "Sorry, I mean, you're right." He enunciates louder and clearer. "Just that... I couldn't really find any other way."

"Well, I was thinking we could just use your middle fingers as a unit." You bring his pinkie back up and press your fingers on his middle fingers, "What do you call them?"

"This is the middle finger," He wiggles it and specifically avoids accidentally showing it off to you, even if you probably don't know what it means. "and this is the ring finger."

"Okay." You nod, understanding quickly. Then, you press your fingers against the ring's left and the middle's right and hold them together. "We can consider these as my middle finger."

You hold your hand up next to his, pulling your other fingers down to show him the middle. He almost laughs and tells you the meaning, but decides it's funnier if you don't know.

"Say, "happen" for example." You use his hand as if it were your own, as yours was holding it, and press the side of yourd against it. Then, you bring it to the side quickly whilst pushing your fingers wide apart. "To mimic my middle finger, you can use your middle and ring fingers together."

"But... wouldn't it be confusing?" Lo'ak argues, looking up into your eyes.

You turn away from him, biting your lip, "Much the same as you're... accommodating for me by learning sign language, we must accommodate for you too. It's only right."

"Accommodate..." He hated that word, and clearly, you were just as ashamed to use it. It had been used all throughout your lives because of your particularities. "Let's not say that."

You turn back up to him, a glimmer of hope within your eyes. "What do you mean?"

"Let's not say we're accommodating for our differences." He turns his hand, the one that rested upon your palm, and uses it to hold yours reassuringly. "Let's just say that we're doing this for each other."

He loves the way your face lights up with a smile. "That sounds good."

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Thanks to Tsireya's efforts, the Sully's had learned the ways of the Metkayina.

They were still different, they were Omatikaya, and they and the Metkayina would always have their differences. However, despite their leaner bodies, they could catch up with you in the water; despite other physical differences like smaller lungs, they could stay underwater almost as long as you. They still preferred bow and arrow over spear and ikran over ilu.

Soon enough, they were good enough at free diving that they were allowed to perform their first Iknimaya trial, catching a small shell thrown into the sea.

Of course, it was the first because it was the easiest, the Metkayina completed it when they were young; but still, it called for a celebration.

Ronal denied a coming of age celebration. It was past the season for it, the tulkuns weren't home yet, and the Metkayina didn't know the Sully's enough for it to have any real sentiment.

It didn't matter to you, though. All they really wanted was a celebration with friends (which Ao'nung so gladly volunteered to not participate in).

You brought them into the sea for the celebration. For once, it wasn't a test of their breathing, speed, or swimming form. It was just exploring, enjoying the water; and they hadn't done that since they tamed their ilu.

As you dove into the sea, Fyìp swam to be near you. It seemed unbothered by the stares of awe he received.

Kiri grinned, signing to you, Fyìp ioang?

Yeah! Call him Fyìp now. You offer it a spot on your palm, which it accepts. You thrust your hand forward to show them all. He warmed up to me, forgave me.

Forgave you? Lo'ak signed. After your arrangement, he'd really gotten good at sign language.

Though the celebration was not meant to be a test, it was a great demonstration of how they were on their way to master sign language.

I believe I told you about the lesson Kiri taught me. I caught Fyìp to show it off to her, and she taught me I shouldn't have done so, even through all my curiosity. You nod at the thought, Wise words.

Kiri tucks a hair behind her ear, It just made sense to me. Not something wise or anything.

Sure. You huff out a laugh, then turn around to swim further in. Fyìp clings onto your shoulder.

The sights were already amazing. The Sully's were no longer limited by depth or obstacles now that they knew the way of water, so now they could see everything the sea had to offer.

You turn back to them again with an offer, You guys wanna see one of my favorite places? Knowing that they'll definitely agree, you turn back around and start leading the way.

It doesn't take long before you are standing before a marvel.

It was a cove of coral, fish, and many more ocean creatures. They were all colorful and eye-catching, but the main attraction was the ilu. It was similar to the Banshee Rookery in the Ayram alusìng.

We don't always tame ilu bred from other ilu at the village. Sometimes, we come here, though rarely. You explain.

These ilu were wilder, more aloof, but they still retained their friendly nature with the Na'vi. So long as you do not anger them, we can hang out with them.

The Sully's were practically let loose around the area. As you already knew much of it, you laid down on a rock at the heart of it and simply watched. Fyìp stuck around you, catching stray fish for dinner.

Kiri easily communicated with the ilu. Even if they were already friendly, they seemed even warmer with her.

Lo'ak managed to find the more playful ilu and had somehow gotten himself into a game of tag. He seemed to be one of the runners. He ducked behind coral, up and around rock arches. He was holding his own, despite the ilu naturally being much faster. Tsireya found herself watching too, and was laughing at Lo'ak's panicked face as he narrowly avoided being caught by an ilu.

As Lo'ak and Kiri both found their own things to do, it seemed Neteyam was stuck with Tuk. But she wasn't a burden to him. What kind of big brother would he be if she was?

He held her by the hand and admired some of the smaller creatures with her, although it seemed as though she had other intentions.

She escaped Neteyam's grasp and began swimming away with vigor. For a moment, Neteyam panicked, rushing after her with alarm. However, he soon relaxed once she saw she was going to you.

She waved hello adorably with a grin then signed. As the youngest, she had a bit more trouble with signing, but you understood her. Why do you like being in the water so much?

Well, it's very serene. You reply.

Neteyam caught up. He seemed interested too. Is that it?

You shrug, Sort of. There's some other reasons, but... You took in Tuk's hopeful eyes. She was far too cute to be denied. I could tell them to you.

Please? Will you? She swims closer, holding onto your wrists so that you may still sign.

Perhaps Tsireya rounded them up; otherwise, you have no idea why, as signing doesn't make sound, but they all round up around you. Even Fyìp swims closer.

It was a bit nerve-wracking, having all those eyes on you, but you had grown close to all of them. Nothing bad would come of it if you told them.

Okay.

Tuk's smile grows wider, she swims away so the others can see you too.

Ever since I was a kid, the ocean was so entrancing. It was majestic, a different world from the one above. The other kids my age, they preferred to play with one another. I preferred to explore the ocean. Even though I was hardly used to the world above, I still preferred exploring underwater.

Tsireya taught you that the sea gives and takes. While it gave me a world to love, it also took my hearing because I was negligent towards my ears. Eventually, the sea was more than just the world I loved. It was also the only place I could be normal.

Lo'ak and Kiri listen more carefully when you mention the word normal. It was something they both struggled with.

Everybody needs to sign to speak. You don't need your ears to listen to them, you only need your eyes; and my eyes, I still have. Underwater, I swim and speak and listen just like everyone else.

Tsireya swims closer, a frown on her face. She holds your elbow endearingly, You are just like everyone else.

Yeah, you are. Neteyam does the same, swimming closer. You are Na'vi.

We are Na'vi. Lo'ak signs.

Though we are all different, we are all Eywa's children. Kiri signs. It doesn't matter in what way we are different, my fingers, our blood, your hearing...

Lo'ak's eyebrows... Neteyam signs. Said eyebrows furrow at the teasing. Lo'ak retaliates by squeezing Neteyam's exposed neck, as his brother always does to him. Neteyam pushes him away.

You guys, you all understand. You smile, I'm so sorry that the Metkayina treat you differently.

Lo'ak shakes his head, If it is something we must teach them, we'll make them learn. He smiles, So long as we have great teachers like you and Tsireya to back us up, right?

You roll your eyes–he thinks it's endearing–at him but nod. We'll teach them that we're all the same.

Tomorrow will be a good day for that. Tsireya signs, Let's not forget we are celebrating your first Iknimaya trial.

Fyìp does an encouraging twirl that makes everyone smile.

To tomorrow. You sign.

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shadowshrike · 5 months

Text

Astarion on Halsin Leaving

I can't stop thinking about Astarion's lines when Halsin chooses to leave your party, so have a fun mini-analysis. Note that this text is pulled via datamining because I don't have all the appropriate saves atm. Since the context of your personal story is everything in this game and can wildly change how lines come across, please take my thoughts here as a fun exercise with the text and nothing more.

I think the things that are needed to fully understand where my head is at regarding his lines are two fold:

1. How Astarion talks about other companions leaving

Shadowheart and Wyll can both also leave in Act 2. His responses are as follows.

Astarion: I don't see what Shadowheart got so upset about - it was not that nice of a temple.

For Shadowheart he gently deflects the crux of the matter. This isn't surprising because he is a master of minimizing other people's grievances when he thinks they're legitimate but inconvenient. Otherwise, he responds fairly mildly.

Astarion: So, that's how the legend ends. The Blade of Frontiers, cast down to the Hells. Hardly a fitting ending. But so few are.

Unlike Shadowheart, Wyll is forced to leave by being dragged to the hells. There's no justification he needs to rebuff for Wyll leaving the party's side, so instead, he uses it to double down on his philosophy that 'nice guys finish last and the world is a dangerous and horrible place.' Which, ironically, is not entirely unreasonable given the circumstances.

2. How other companions talk about Halsin leaving

The Good companions don't blame Halsin for leaving. Wyll even blames himself for not doing enough. Karlach also regrets the loss of another strong person around, reminding us once again that Halsin is physically imposing in the narrative, even if the stats say otherwise because of how D&D balance works.

Gale: Druids will always follow nature's purpose over any mortal threat. Halsin goes where he is needed, as must we.

Jaheira: Halsin long urged the Harpers not to abandon this land to the curse. I cannot blame him, for being unable to bear it a second time.

Wyll: I can't blame Halsin for leaving. We could have, should have, done more for him and for the cursed lands. They may never again feel the breathe of life on them. What a shame.

Karlach: Pity about Halsin. I was getting used to having an extra Strong around. He smelled nice, too. Like outside.

(Fun fact regarding Karlch's comment: Astarion has a line where he refers to Halsin as "musky bear-fellow" - musky is also the word used to describe the attractive smell of corpse flowers - and Halsin's underwear smells like an herb garden according to its flavor text. Apparently, the guy canonically smells really good?)

Even Shar Path Shadowheart expresses regret in losing Halsin. Not because she wants to end the Shadow Curse, but because Halsin's nice to look at.

Shadowheart: This land remains cloaked by Lady Shar's power - good. A shame it cost us Halsin as a travelling companion though. He may have been misguided, but I liked looking at him.

That brings us to...

Astarion's tantrum over Halsin leaving

Go ahead and listen to it yourself first, and then I'll dive into both lines.

Astarion: Just like that hulking bear to stomp off in a huff. I swear, druids care more about the plants of this land than the people.

"Just like that hulking bear to stomp off in a huff."

This first statement is not only indignant and deflecting, it's so factually false that it's laughable. Halsin is always calm and regretful when staying behind no matter how you treat him.

Player: You have to come - I need you. Halsin: This place needs me. I wish it were different - I truly do. As long as the curse remains, so must I.

Player: Do as you wish. Halsin: This isn't what I wish. It's simply the way it has to be - I'm sorry.

Player: The shadow curse was always your burden - not mine. Halsin: Yes, and so it must remain. I wish you success on your path. Had things been different, I might have walked it with you.

Player: Perhaps we can still do something to lift the curse. Halsin: No. If you linger, you'll only jeopardise your own mission. This is my burden alone now until either the curse is lifted, or I breathe my last.

Halsin is renowned for letting people treat him horribly and taking it on the chin. Him pushing back is usually related to calmly setting boundaries or expectations. The only times I can think of offhand where he raises his voice in anger is with Kagha, if you interfere with the portal, and briefly after certain parts of the Evil companion routes, though not as intensely (I might do a write-up on that later because his reactions are interesting). He certainly never "stomp[s] off in a huff", and he's not doing it now either.

However, the way this is worded gives me pause. Because "just like [him]" said so angrily gives the impression that Halsin has reacted this way to Astarion before. Given Astarion's habit of rewriting exactly how events went down to absolve himself of accountability, it makes me wonder if Astarion's tried to get a rise out of Halsin in camp and been shut down. Since Halsin is the only Good companion at that point who is also old and worldly enough to not get flustered by Astarion's cruelty, mind games, and flirting, it wouldn't surprise me if Astarion has built up resentment. Halsin refuses to be manipulated or confirm Astarion's cynical worldview, and Astarion isn't ready to consider changing his mind with Cazador on the horizon.

"I swear, druids care more about the plants of this land than the people."

This is, again, a false statement wrapped in a little more truth than the first. Druids are indeed infamous for putting nature above humans (see: Shadow Druids), and Halsin talks a big game about Balance and Nature. However, Halsin is probably the most people-oriented traditional druid we see in the game, going so far as to cause chaos in his grove by aggressively taking in refugees and personally traveling with an undead and servant of Shar because they need help. He chooses people over Silvanus' classic teachings so often that it's fascinating.

That aside, given what the shadow-cursed lands are doing to anyone on the way to Baldur's Gate, choosing to stay and attempt to lift the curse is hardly serving plants over people - the Absolute and the Shadow Curse are both significant threats to people. What Halsin is doing, however, is prioritizing his own problems over those of Astarion. He's setting aside the tadpole cause, not because he's selfish or duplicitous, but because he's not willing to abandon the other people he swore to help a century ago and has obsessed over ever since.

Some fun implications

Given all this information, there are many interesting ways to read Astarion's language beyond a surface "he hates Halsin and/or druids" level (gotta love his charlatan background making almost every line capable of ambiguity). Some personal favorite interpretations of his feelings:

Begrudging affection towards Halsin. Astarion has no reason to get so angry and make such absurd statements if he didn't want Halsin to stay. He certainly didn't make such a big fuss about other companions. However, since Astarion isn't in an emotional place to be able to consider Halsin's worldview seriously now that he's staring down Cazador, that admiration gets bungled into a "well screw you, I didn't like you anyway" attitude, much like how he handles some partner breakups.

Resentment and fear of being left behind or rejected. Astarion is selfish. He's been fairly consistent that he doesn't want to help others, but he also hates when no one helps him. That self-fulfilling prophecy is a rather large part of how he moves through (un)life and can easily continue through Act III depending on whether your dialog choices give him an opportunity to express it. Seeing a good person that he truly believes is good choosing something else over him makes the 'truth' of this cynical, self-centered worldview sting harder, especially as he is at his most vulnerable heading into Baldur's Gate.

Guilt for not doing more. Halsin has been clear about his priorities from the start. He's one of the most straightforward, reasonable communicators in the whole game. That means Astarion knew he would leave if the Shadow Curse wasn't lifted, especially since Halsin doesn't have a tadpole and, therefore, has no reason to risk his life for them. Since Astarion is almost universally unwilling to take blame for his own actions or inactions, he's trying to push the responsibility onto Halsin by painting him as unreasonable for following through on his stated priorities rather than let himself feel bad about not helping Halsin.

I'm sure there are even more readings you can think of, too. Hats off to this hidden bit of dialogue, the incredible delivery, and how much depth it brings to a relationship which is easy to ignore.

#halsin #astarion #halstarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #analysis

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sesshous · 6 months

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pers: the ultimate wing“man” [freminet x reader]

summary: freminet makes a new friend (you!)

genre: fluff (gn)

a/n: reader isn’t from fontaine, also takes place after 4.2 archon quests (no direct spoilers to anything though), this fic kicked my ass i started writing this on the NINTH. but i really wanted to get it done because i adore him ♡ (can also be read as platonic despite the title!)

when most people think of the self-proclaimed greatest magician in all of teyvat, lyney, they also thought of his magic assistant, lynette. when most people think of the magic assistant, lynette, they also thought of the once again self-proclaimed greatest magician in all of teyvat, lyney. when most people thought of freminet, they also thought of… diving? he was the most talented diver in all of fontaine, so it was no surprise that it was anyone’s first thought to connect him with the “only thing” he was actually good at (his words, not anyone else's). and for someone who spends more time underwater than on land and is probably in his own shell more than those armoured crabs you’ll find on the shore, it’s unlikely for him to be associated with other people.

there was one individual that some people didn’t consider..

pers.

how could they not think of him? okay, well pers wasn’t a human, but he was freminet’s most trustworthy companion! he practically brought him everywhere, including to his latest diving session.

half an hour earlier, freminet had accidentally bumped into estelle, who had signalled him over and told him about how her ore supplier didn’t give her enough beryl conches for a project she was working on and requested him to get her some. originally, he had planned on going home since it was so late into the evening, but then he remembered talking with lyney and lynette about ‘wanting to socialise more’. he already finds it difficult to be around estelle with how much she talks, but he thinks that maybe this could be some kind of first step to becoming more comfortable with her. after agreeing to help her out, he set off to fontaine’s shoreline.

freminet was quick with gathering the beryl conches. after he collected enough, he went back to the surface to sort them out, examining them to make sure that they were in good condition. he did have to admit, diving while it was nearing night was pretty relaxing. it was just him, pers and the sea…

which is why he was now suddenly confused when he heard a sudden laugh. there shouldn’t have been nobody else around with how late it was. did he imagine it? he turned around to see where the laugh was coming from, he saw a figure crouched down with.. pers?

pers must have waddled off while he was so focused on the beryl conches... he swears his attention was only off him for a few seconds! freminet’s mind was at a blank here, but even he knows how rude it would look if he just walked up, snatched pers, came up with some excuse to leave and left, but he didn’t know who this person was- he was just concerned for pers safety! but while he was watching, he saw stranger pat pers lightly on the head and boop his beak with their finger, with the penguin flapping his mechanical wings in response. well, they seemed pretty gentle with how they interacted with pers. and he did remember talking to lyney and lynette about wanting to socialise more (that's why he was out diving so late after all), but normally they were both there with him to help guide him through conversations with people he didn’t know… but maybe this time, he could take this chance to try by himself?

quickly putting away the conches in his bag, he stood up, took a deep breath and nervously walked over to where they both were.

“um…” still anxious, he kept his gaze focused in on pers, however from the corner of his eye, he could see the stranger look up at him, with a smile.

“oh, hello! is this lil guy yours?”

“um,” clearing his throat, “hi. yes- yes, well he’s my friend…”

“really? what’s his name?” you moved you head a above pers in order to view his face, making direct eye contact with him. freminet felt his face heat up, quickly looking away.

“oh, it’s pers...”

“pers? that’s cute! i think it suits him.” moving back to your original position and taking pers’ flippers in your hands to lift them up and down slightly.

“thank you…” he glanced back over at you both (at pers, specifically), and stood silently as he watched the two of you play.

“what were you doing out here?” you questioned.

“i was just diving for beryl conches…” he mumbled.

“beryl conches?!” you perk up. freminet flinched back a bit. he wasn’t expecting that much excitement for beryl conches of all things. “i saw them in the book i was reading about fontaine’s local specialties! they look pretty, i wanted to get one for myself, but i’ve never dived before…”

“oh… there’s someone who sells them in poisson… in the belleau region.”

“but it would be more special if i got one myself, you know?” freminet tilted his head and slightly nodded.

“yeah, i understand what you mean…” he murmured, silence following through. all he could hear now was the gentle tides against the shore and the squawking of some angler gulls. is this silence awkward for you? he feels like he needs to say something to keep the conversation going. you read a book about fontaine’s local specialties? you must be new to fontaine, did you move here? or are you just travelling- no, that’s definitely too personal... how about your favourite colour? or food? but those are boring, are they not? he could also ask you what you were doing out by the shore so late, but is asking the same question back okay? oh wait! your name-

“you mentioned that you were diving, right?” your voice snapped him back to reality, with you now standing up in front of him, holding out your hands with pers in them for him to take. “have you ever taught anyone how to dive?”

“i was diving, yes. and no, never. i don’t really think i would be the best teacher.” he looked down at your hands, reaching out and taking pers from them, face slightly blushing at your fingers making contact. it’s probably not too noticeable (he hopes). but now, he can ask for your name-

“how will you know if you never try?” you asked.

“well- well i guess you’re right, but i don’t know who would want me to-”

“wait, you can teach me! can be your first student?” your eyes lit up.

“i don’t… i don’t think… i…” he’s stuttering now. great, he made a fool of himself! (he didn’t)

“it’s okay if not!” you reassure him, putting up your hands. “i don’t want to pressure you or anything!” freminet shakes his head.

“oh, no- no, um maybe if i don’t have a lot of assignments tomorrow, i could show you the basics?” he clutches pers tighter to his chest.

“really? great!” you clap your hands lightly, “if you’re done collecting beryl couches, want to walk back together with me to the court of fontaine?”

“yes, i’ve finished. and sure, i don’t see why not…” okay! this time he’s really going to ask-

“that sounds awesome- wait!” you put out your hand to stop him. did he do something wrong? “i forgot to ask you what your name is! i’m sorry!” laughing awkwardly, following up with your name. ah, you also forgot to ask, and your acting this nice towards him without knowing his name? …that puts him a little at ease.

“no worries, it’s freminet.” even he couldn’t help but give a small smile.

“freminet… i like it! you have a really pretty name.” okay his blush was most definitely noticeable now.

“ah, thank you...” freminet grip on pers lessens.

“alright, let’s go. i’ll let you lead the way!”

freminet thinks on the walk back, it should be a good time to ask you those questions he thought of earlier. and for once, he really hopes he doesn’t have a lot of diving requests tomorrow.

“wait, i never got the chance to ask you what you were doing out so late”

“i was exploring around fontaine!… and then i got lost exploring around fontaine… but i guess it’s good that i got lost since i got to meet you and pers, right?’

“...yeah, right.”

#genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #freminet x reader #freminet fluff #genshin fluff #ᰔ works

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say-al0e · 1 year

Text

Finally

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: You have a rule; don’t pursue any of the other regulars at your favorite bar. Rooster is a regular and one night, makes you question why you ever thought that rule was a good idea.

Warnings: Protected PinV, oral (fem rec), drinking, consent is hot, pre-TGM (set in VB). (Anything else, just let me know and I can tag it)

Pairing: Rooster x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

The little dive a few blocks away from your apartment had long since turned into something of a second home for you and your friends. Most Saturdays - if none of the girls had made more pressing pans - found you seated around a table near the door, empty glasses littering the sticky surface as you all decompressed after a stressful week. There was cheap alcohol, greasy food that was decent enough, and rarely any crowds.

Unlike other bars in the area, most of the people who filled seats on Saturday nights were your run of the mill regulars. Though the vast majority of bars in the area - new and old - seemed to cater to the large and ever-growing Naval population, the little dive never seemed to attract any particular clientele.

There always seemed to be an interesting mixture of regulars scattered about each weekend. The ones you saw most were the small group of college students - eager to flash their new, real (they swore) IDs - a few couples, a few loners who drank quietly at the bar, and a group of, in the words of your friends, obscenely handsome men.

That description wasn’t wrong, the group was obscenely handsome, but you did your best not to stare. The bar was your safe haven, a refuge from the offense of a rough week, just as you assumed it was theirs. As such, you thought it best not to pursue any of them.

Things could get messy - the bartender had slept with a handful of one-time regulars who had since stopped appearing - and losing your favorite bar to a night that may or may not be worth it was the last thing you wanted. Avoiding them seemed practical, however, just because you decided that you shouldn’t didn’t mean you didn’t want to.

The group of men was never loud, no more so than any of the rest of the patrons in the bar, but there were moments of light that showcased their personalities. Their voices tended to carry on slower nights, when it seemed to be just your group and theirs, and you’d gotten to know a fair deal about them.

The most revolutionary piece oof information you’d gleaned from their conversations was that the one they called Rooster was the one who’d caught your eye.

Rooster - whose real name you never heard uttered by any of his companions - was at the bar most weekends. He was one of the quieter members of the group, usually choosing songs at the old jukebox in the corner and grinning as he nodded along, but never failed to laugh when the group lobbed half-hearted taunts his way.

There was a boyish charm about him, despite his size and relative quiet, and it did nothing but make you wonder.

If anyone asked, you’d argue that the duality of him was what drew you in. He was easily among the tallest men in the bar at any given time, with broad shoulders and defined biceps. There were a handful of scars smattered across his skin and, every so often, a handful of bruises to accompany them.

The men he ventured into the bar were so obviously Navy, even without the uniforms but Rooster carried himself easily. The rigidity you’d come to expect from soldiers, pilots, and sailors - living so close to the largest Naval base in the world gave you plenty of experience with them - was missing entirely, replaced by gaudy Hawaiian shirts and a playful smile, and that was that.

Somehow, in only a matter of months, Rooster managed to capture your attention and kept you coming back for more, week after week.

Everyone seemed to notice.

Both sets of friends - yours and his - wagged eyebrows and snickered whenever your paths managed to cross. Endless amounts of whispering, begging you just to say hello to him, plagued you nearly every weekend and if you glanced at his table, you assumed he was being given the same treatment.

It seemed impossible that he wasn’t, given you seemed to have caught his eye, too.

Night after night, piercing brown eyes met yours across the bar. A soft smile, hidden beneath a mustache you would’ve deemed ridiculous on anyone else, was sure to accompany the warm gaze and, despite yourself, you’d grown to anticipate the shared glances.

That gaze, those eyes glittering even in the dim light of the bar, was the highlight of your night. That night was no exception.

Each time you took a cursory glance around the bar - gaze sweeping over the sticky bar top, the bright jukebox, the worn pool table, the wall covered in stickers and patches and signatures from patrons past - you always seemed to find your way back to him.

Over the course of the night, glances were exchanged - sidelong, flirty, curious - more frequently than ever. It reminded you that there’d always been something stopping you from taking him home.

The desire to keep yourself, and him, from losing your second home for a night that had no guarantee; the determination to avoid your friends’ knowing smiles and fond teasing, no matter how deserved; the desperation to keep from making a mistake by taking him home, even if it turned out to be a beautiful one.

Thoughts of what could happen - the bad, the good, the indifferent - plagued you each time you shared a glance with Rooster. As your friends sipped beer and wine and giggled about their respective partners, you allowed yourself to wonder.

There was no guarantee attached to a night spent with Rooster, however, there could be a future there. The happily ever after you quietly longed for, wrapped in an awfully tacky Hawaiian shirt and a mustache straight out of 1986, could await you. One night with him could lead to a future that saw your group of friends and his sharing a table and laughing over how long you danced around one another.

Alternatively, it could become a fond memory. There was no guarantee the intrigue you felt would last more than a night. It could end with an understanding that you were not meant to be and knowing looks shared in passing, never speaking of the night but silently agreeing to cohabitate in peace.

The worst option was the one that gave you pause. There could be heartache in a night spent with Rooster, hidden behind pretty smiles and soft eyes. The night could lead to a future in which the sight of those eyes would render you unable to step foot in your favorite bar. It could end in disappointment or hurt and that was the last thing you wanted for either of you.

Each scenario was one you’d considered at least a dozen times. Some nights, you spent the entirety of your time in the bar questioning ‘what-if’. It was why you’d avoided speaking to him, why you never allowed the glances to linger too long or the teasing from your friends to spur you into action, but something shifted.

That night, instead of allowing the negativity to take root, an unfamiliar determination took hold.

Three weeks had passed since you last saw him. During those three weeks, you wondered if he’d been sent elsewhere and you’d missed your chance. Upon realizing how devastated the thought made you, you decided that he was worth it. Regardless of what happened, you wanted to at least take that first chance.

Rooster seemed to feel the same.

There was a promise hidden in the warmth of his eyes - ask and I’ll follow, you won’t regret it - you’d never seen from him before. It had you lingering near the bar as your friends paid their tabs. You waited under the guise of patience, insisting you had nowhere to be the following day and knew they all had plans, but, really, you weren’t sure you wanted them to see you willingly offer yourself up to the man they’d been teasing you about for months.

Nothing about it was shameful, you knew that. Your friends had gone home with or taken home their fair share of partners - soldiers, sailors, pilots, baristas, musicians, artists, finance bros; you name it, they’ve slipped out of a bar with them, uttering a promise to share details upon next meeting - but this felt different.

Rooster felt different.

That thought would likely make you laugh later on - depending on the outcome of the night - but you were confident as he followed your lead.

As his friends paid their tabs, each pointedly ignoring your presence - though you knew they saw you, felt their curious glances even as you paid them no mind - and laughing, he snuck glances. With each one, the world seemed to stop to a crawl around you.

The chatter of the bar faded into an indistinct hum, a song that no longer mattered playing in the background, just as the neon lights behind the bar blurred into shapeless splotches. Rooster settled into the space at your side as he waited and warmth radiated off of him, even through the fabric of his gaudy Hawaiian shirt. You only hoped that he didn’t notice the way your grip on the bar tightened in an effort to remain upright.

For a few long moments, you kept your eyes on the shelf of bottles behind the bar, struggling to read the labels that only moments ago had been completely comprehensible, and pointedly avoiding meeting his eyes in the mirror. However, when the last of his friends stepped out of the bar and into the cool night air, Rooster turned to you.

“Bradley,” he introduced, finally answering the question you’d been pondering for months, the moment you met his eyes. His mouth curved into a soft smile, eyes shimmering and bright despite the dim light of the bar, and you had to force yourself to take even breaths as he offered his hand in greeting.

Bradley’s voice, clearer than you’d ever heard it now that it was directed at you, and lower than expected, rang in your ears as he repeated your name. It sounded perfect, as if he’d uttered it a thousand times before, and it was almost startling how his touch simultaneously calmed and electrified your poor stuttering heart.

It was difficult to remember the last time anyone had made you feel this way - if anyone had ever made your feel this way - upon first meeting but you refused to dwell. That moment was all that mattered and, for once, you were ready to take the night in stride.

With the weight of Bradley’s gaze sweeping over your skin, warm eyes roving the few expanses of exposed skin, heating you from within, little else seemed to exist beyond the present. There was no telling how long you stood, your hand clasped in his as you took the opportunity to study one another without the teasing of friends, before the moment was broken by the opening chords of Berlin’s Take My Breath Away.

Laughter, surprised but wholly amused, filled your ears as Bradley finally released your hand. “Fitting,” he teased, grinning as his gaze returned to meet yours. When you rolled your eyes, playful despite the heat rushing to your cheeks, Bradley’s grin only grew. “Are you heading out?”

“Was planning to, yeah,” you nodded with a brief glance toward the door. “Luckily, it’s a pretty short walk.”

Bradley copied the gesture, slow and understanding, as he searched your face for any hint that he’d gotten the wrong understanding. When he seemed to find none, he asked, “Let me walk you home?”At the raise of your brow, teasing, he shrugged. “It’s late,” he reasoned, “short walk or not.”

“Does the Navy encourage the buddy system or is that your attempt at chivalry?”

Despite the question, you gathered your bag and threw the bartender - who wore a knowing grin - a wave before turning to leave. Bradley waited just a moment, eager for your consent, and only followed when you tilted your head toward the door.

“What gave me away as Navy?”

The noise of the city hit you as you stepped out into the night - through a door held open by Bradley - but immediately faded into the background as he fell into step at your side. Just as you figured he would, he walked along the edge of the sidewalk closest to the street and turned to glance at you.

“I’ve lived in Virginia Beach for two years. There’s not much else you can be around here. Your friends are Navy so I put two and two together. ‘Sides, the call sign didn’t help,” you teased, grinning when he laughed and nodded his understanding. “Before we found out your friends were Navy, my guesses were either that, blue collar, or a former frat boy. But that could just be the Hawaiian shirts clouding my judgement.”

Bradley’s laughter was quiet, a little self-deprecating, but amused as he shook his head. He studied you for a moment, gaze sweeping your skin with a quiet intensity that made it difficult to keep yourself entirely together, before he turned his head to glance at the neighborhood surrounding you both. “You know, for those to be guesses, two out of three isn’t bad.”

For this to be the first time you’d actually gotten to speak to him, you found conversation with Bradley to be easier than you would’ve imagined. There was no hint of what you hoped the night would bring, only an easy banter that settled the erratic beating of your heart and calmed the nerves that prickled at your overheated skin. It reinforced the decision you were making and gave you hope that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be a mistake.

“You were a frat boy? Let me guess, UVA or Tech. Unless you’re going to shock me and tell me you didn’t go to school in Virginia.”

With an easy grin, Bradley shook his head. “UVA,” he confirmed, eyes flickering to you. “You’re good. Are you always this right or am I just easy to read?” As you approached a crosswalk, Bradley took a moment to glance around at your surroundings before asking, “Which way?”

“Left at the light.” As you slowed to a stop, Bradley turned to focus the entirety of his attention on you. There was an honest curiosity there, eager to continue the conversation, and you were surprised at how willing he was to chatter on about nothing rather than rush you through the streets. “I went to UNC Chapel Hill. There are differences, obviously, but enough similarities that make it easier to see. Or maybe I just put on college-tinted goggles and never took them off. But even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

For a brief moment, the only noise was that of the city moving around you. The occasional car rushing past, the opening and closing of doors as you passed apartment buildings, the distant hum of conversations, but Bradley’s silence spoke the loudest. When you glanced at him, only to be met with a look of fond bemusement, you raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Instead of speaking, Bradley took a step closer and lifted his hand to cradle your cheek. As he leaned in, he paused for a moment to await your consent. Brown eyes swept yours, searching for any hesitance, and when he was met with a nod, he pressed his mouth to yours.

The kiss was softer than you expected, less an impatient clashing of teeth and lips and tongue and more of an eager glimpse into the coming night, and you were met with a quiet laugh as Bradley pulled away.

“I would apologize for not waiting,” he began, eyes shining even under the dim orange glow of the streetlight and not sounding apologetic in the slightest, “but I can’t. I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while.” He grinned then, honest and endearing, and you felt your chest begin to ache as his eyes darted back to your mouth. Bradley stood still for a moment, gaze sweeping your heated skin, before he took a half-step back. He remained closer than he had and smiled as you blinked at his honesty. “Left at the light?”

“Yeah.”

Stringing together a coherent line of thought proved difficult - more so than you imagined it would when you decided to embark on this endeavor - so you offered no protest as Bradley began to move in the direction of your apartment building. He kept close to your side and you struggled to keep from sparing him glances as you wandered down the sidewalk.

When the entrance to your building grew clearer, you swallowed the nerves you’d never felt bringing anyone else home and tilted your head to look at him fully. “That’s me,” you pointed out, gesturing to the building looming ever closer. “D’you wanna come in?”

There was little doubt that you were on the same page, both interested in the same thing, but you wanted to be certain.

“If you’ll have me,” he agreed readily, head turning to meet your eyes as you approached the entrance.

With a nod, you reached for his hand and tugged him through the breezeway. Bradley followed along, hand warm in yours, and flashed you a smile each time you shot him a glance. Nerves filled the pit of your stomach - excited and anxious, eager and hesitant - as you climbed the stairs to your apartment.

To your continued surprise - though you should have expected it at that point - Bradley waited for you to make the first move as the door to your apartment clicked shut. Though he remained close, his hand still clasped in yours and eyes sweeping your face for any sign of hesitance, he gave you the power in that moment.

“Is this… can I?” Though you weren’t quite sure what you were asking, Bradley seemed to understand. He dropped your hand and, instead, reached for your hip to tug you a half-step closer.

The weight of his palm pressed to your hip, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your top to brush at overheated skin, grounded you just enough to notice his hum of approval. In a moment of eagerness, you closed the gap and lifted a hand to the back of his neck to tug him forward.

This kiss, though just as pleasant as the first, was less patient. Though he gave you room to initiate, Bradley quickly took control of the kiss. He pressed himself impossibly closer, blanketed your body with his own as he stole your breath with each swipe of his tongue, and shuddered when you shifted your hand to rake through his hair.

In a flurry of movement, a little more frenzied than you’d expected but in no way deserving of a complaint, the outer layers of your clothes were shed in a heap near the couch. Bradley’s coat, tossed to the floor, followed by yours; your heels, kicked off near the hall closet, followed by his boots; there would be a trail for you both to follow upon his departure but, in that moment, nothing mattered outside of guiding him to your bed.

Warm hands caressed your skin, dipped beneath the fabric of your top and brushed the sensitive skin of your hips and stomach, as you tugged at soft brown locks. The pair of you stumbled down the hallway, Bradley eagerly helping you shed your clothes along the way, only for him to pull away from the kiss the moment you stepped into your room.

Those eyes - the ones that flickered to you every time you entered the bar, the ones that glittered even in the dim neon, the ones that captivated you from the very beginning - raked over your exposed skin and eagerly drank in the sight of you. Though your initial instinct was to hide, the cover yourself from his scrutiny, the sheer desire in the depth of his eyes left you unable to do more than allow him to have his fill.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented, gaze lifting to meet yours as his hands gripped your hips.

There was no hint of dishonesty in his compliment, only an earnest honesty that made your skin heat and heart flutter. “You’re one to talk,” you hummed, lifting your hand to trace the slope of his cheek. “You’re really fucking pretty, Bradley.”

It was easy to see that he didn’t believe you - or, if he did, he would’ve downplayed the compliment entirely - but Bradley simply brushed it off and dipped his head to return his lips to yours.

The kiss he pulled you into was searing, warm and eager as he pressed you back toward your bed. There was little else that needed to be said as he nudged you to lie back and settle into the center of the bed.

Bradley was eager. When he slipped between your spread thighs, large hands gripping the supple flesh to hold you open for him, he surged forward with no hesitation. He nosed at the juncture of your thigh, pressed a blistering kiss to the top of your mound, before he licked into you with reckless abandon. There were no tentative flicks of his tongue, no bored swipes that indicated he was acting out of some kind of obligation. Instead, he swiped the flat of his tongue through your folds and lapped at you like a man starved.

In the back of your mind, you wondered - only briefly, before your thoughts were wiped completely by the press of his fingers to your clit - how much better sex with him would be if he were emotionally invested. It was already better than most you’d had with committed partners and from what you were beginning to learn about Bradley, you could only imagine emotional investment would give him room to ruin you for any future partner.

Though his size could be seen as imposing, he was careful to keep the press of his fingers into your skin balanced. There was enough pressure to feel, enough pressure to ensure reminders of his presence would be left in the morning, but not so much that it caused you real pain. When your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, he groaned openly as he pressed his face impossibly closer.

There was a charming eagerness to his desire, a willingness to give his entire self in the pursuit of your pleasure, and were it not for the insistent press of his fingers to your aching clit, your thoughts would’ve been sent careening down a dangerous road. Though you knew so little about him, you felt yourself growing increasingly attached and only hoped he would feel the same.

The press of his fingers, larger than your own and rough enough that you imagined he worked with his hands, had your stomach tightening and flames of unfettered arousal licking at your heated skin as you tugged at his hair. Bradley had yet to remove anything more than his jacket but as he pressed his fingers deeper, you imagined the preparation would be necessary.

One fear when deciding to take Bradley home was that you would be left wanting, forced to fake it and take care of yourself later, but that was abated by your fast-approaching release. It should’ve been embarrassing, just how quickly he was able to throw you over the edge, but your embarrassment was only drowned out by the awe at his ability to read you already.

“Bradley! I’m gonna -“ The cry of his name echoed in the quiet of your bedroom, mingled with the lewd sounds of him lapping at your dripping folds as his fingers worked in tandem with his tongue, but he seemed to understand.

Bradley relented, only for a moment, to urge, “Come for me, honey.” The directive was mumbled into your skin as his gaze lifted to meet yours and, for a moment, you lost the ability to breathe. Honey eyes, blown wide with lust and darkening with each swipe of his tongue, captivated you. “Wanna taste you.”

Everything outside of Bradley - the intensity of his gaze, the feeling of his hand gripping your thigh, the insistent press of his fingers into your dripping cunt, the drag of his tongue through your folds, the weight of him pressed against your body, the heat of him burning you from within - ceased to exist.

With a cry of the only word your lust-addled brain could recount - “Bradley!” - you came.

Bradley didn’t relent.

The warmth of him remained pressed against your body, the weight of his hand splayed across your thigh and the rough drag of that fucking mustache as he mouthed at the soft skin of your inner thigh. Each touch felt magnified, as if your senses had been dialed to a thousand, but there was no ounce of upset anywhere to be found, even as he smirked at you.

“Still with me, honey?” Bradley hadn’t struck you as a cocky man but he oozed confidence as he pressed slick fingers into your hip to keep you from moving away. He glanced up at you, still settled between your spread thighs, and waited patiently for your response.

“Fuck.”

At that, Bradley laughed. The look on his face was one you hadn’t expected - pride, sure, but almost something akin to relief that you didn’t feel capable of dwelling on in the moment. Before you could question it, however, he shifted to settle above you. “This still okay?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, voice catching in your throat as his lips pressed to the heated skin of your shoulder. “More than. Please.”

Bradley hummed, acknowledging that he’d heard you, and shifted to allow you to push the Hawaiian shirt off his shoulders before he returned to pressing kisses along the column of your throat. With each press of his mouth to your skin, you sank deeper into the plush of your mattress.

Still, as you felt the fabric of the muscle shirt he’d worn beneath the Hawaiian shirt, you huffed. “It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re still fully clothed,” you pouted, only half-confident the words came out as strong as you wanted them to.

With a laugh, Bradley easily lifted himself from you and made quick work of shucking the remainder of his clothing. His shirt, tossed into a corner to be found later, was followed by the rough denim of his jeans and, lastly, the soft cotton of his briefs.

The assumption you’d made - that the preparation of his fingers was necessary - was accurate.

“Fuck me.” The exclamation escaped unintentionally, mumbled beneath your breath the moment you caught sight of him, and you could see the dusting of pink across his cheeks and chest as he ducked his head.

“I was hoping you’d let me,” he declared, laughing quietly as he leaned in to nip at the column of your throat. “Can I?”

The objects in your nightstand clattered as you rummaged through them blindly in search of the little box. It had been shoved to the back and nearly hidden behind a mountain of other items, but you triumphantly tugged a little foil square from the depths and handed it to Bradley with a grin.

“Please.”

Bradley readily tore open the foil packet and rolled the condom on. As he shifted closer, settled himself between your spread thighs and pressed a hand to your hip to help steady himself, you tangled your fingers in his hair. Though he’d worked you open with his fingers and tongue, there was still a slight pinch as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance and pressed forward.

Another kiss, heated and desperate, stole your breath as he seated himself fully inside. He was careful to keep his full weight off of you, though you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. After a few moments, when the slight pinch began to give way to a pleasant fullness, you shifted your hips and nipped at his bottom lip.

“You can move. Please.”

At first, the pace was slow and measured, an even rock of his hips. After a few moments, however, Bradley began to set a rhythm that stole your breath and had your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. He pressed impossibly deeper, filled you in a way you’d never felt before, and managed to hit the spot that made you see stars with each drag of his hips.

Every moan was swallowed but each sound only seemed to make him that much more eager to please.

The weight of his body pressed to yours, heavy but in the most pleasant way; the rough drag of his fingertips as he circled your clit, tight circles that had you questioning whether to chase the sensation or push him away; the insistent press of his hips, deeper and impossibly deeper with each thrust; the gruff of his voice, deeper and deeper with each curse that left his lips.

It all culminated into an end that hit you with more force than you could’ve seen coming.

This orgasm was significantly more powerful than the first, strong enough to knock the air from your lungs and send splotches of white dancing across your vision. Bradley pushed through, eagerly swallowed your cry of his name, and chased his own release on the heels of yours.

When he came, with a swear and his forehead pressed to yours, he shifted to remove his weight from your body and laid beside you. As you both came down from your respective highs, you took a moment to study him.

In the dim light of your room, Bradley seemed even more beautiful. The slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the plush of his lips; now that you knew it all, had seen it and felt it and tasted it, you wanted nothing more than to give in to the urge to press yourself into his side. It was the post-release high, you knew that, but you were still half-convinced there was something more to Bradley than any other fling.

However, after a few moments of silence, filled only with the sounds of your attempts to catch your breath, Bradley shifted. He leaned over to press another kiss to your shoulder, grinning when you laughed at the tickle of his mustache against your skin, before he pushed himself out of the bed.

With great difficulty, you hid the slight sting of disappointment as he began to gather the pieces of his clothing. “You can stay,” you offered, quiet voice sounding too loud in the near silence of the room. As you watched him search for his shirt in the chaos of your room, you added, “If you want.”

“Believe me, I would love to, but I’ve got to be at work in,” he paused for a moment, tapped the home screen of his phone, and grimaced, “three hours.” He stood and tugged on his briefs, followed by his jeans, before he turned back to you.

There was an honesty in his answer that served as something of a balm, a small glimmer of hope that he was telling the truth and would’ve stayed had the timing been different, so you nodded. “I’ll walk you out, then,” you offered as you climbed out of bed and wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders.

Bradley walked slowly through your apartment, wasting a few moments of time as he gathered the few items of his that had been tossed throughout the apartment, before turning to you in the living room. Those eyes - those damn eyes that seemed to have an unexplainable power over you - met yours before he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

It was just close enough to tempt you into turning your head - giving in to the newfound urge to sink into him, to revel in the way his mouth slotted against yours - but before you could, he pulled away and offered up his phone. There was no need for words, nothing of note to say as you tapped away, diligently inputting the number you hoped he’d call.

And then, with a smile and one final press of his mouth to yours - a promise to call you mumbled into your skin - Bradley turned to leave.

There was little doubt that he would reach out - he seemed so fucking sincere, so sweet, and you knew you would see him again, even if it was just in passing at the bar - but you didn’t expect to see an unknown number appear on your phone screen quite so soon.

As you padded into the kitchen in search of water, you tapped the answer button. “Just wanted to make sure you had my number, too,” Bradley offered by way of greeting, grin evident as you heard the thud of a door shutting behind him. “Just in case.”

“Just in case,” you echoed, grinning without restraint. “I appreciate it.”

“Just being chivalrous,” he declared, not bothering to hide his amusement. “But, now that I’ve got you, what d’you think about dinner on Saturday? Might have to miss a thrilling night at the bar but, who knows? Could be worth it.”

“Could be,” you agreed easily. “And they always say, variety is the spice of life.” Dinner with Bradley would be worth it - he’d already proven time spent with him would be worthwhile - and you felt your heart begin to beat just a touch faster at the prospect of getting to know him. “I think dinner sounds good. The company might not be all that bad either.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he promised, laughing quietly as the sound of the city began to filter through the speaker. “I’ll see you on Saturday, then.”

“See you on Saturday,” you agreed, grinning as you leaned against the counter and felt a flurry of butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach. “Have a good night, Bradley.”

“Goodnight, honey.”

In all of the scenarios you could’ve dreamt, few of them left you as giddy as reality. There was no guarantee that a future in which you and Bradley became more than you were in that moment existed but, regardless of where the future took you, you were looking forward to the journey.

_________________________________________________________________

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theresattrpgforthat · 8 months

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Hey! I've gotten super into solo rpgs but I tend to find combat boring. Are there fantasy themed rpgs with less focus on combat that you would recommend? (If they are soloable, that's also a win!)

THEME: Fantasy Solo Non-Combat.

Hello friend, thank you very much for your ask! I'm going to direct you to two Solo-themed game recommendations first, before I dive into today's recs.

Character-Focused Solo Games: Games that focus on character-building. Lighthearted Solo Games: Fun, non-serious solo games.

A Year in the Spirit World, by ToriBee.

The wind rustles through the emerald canopy above as you open your eyes to an unfamiliar world. You're lying on a bed of lush moss, the gentle warmth of the Spirit World sun caressing your face. Around you, a forest of towering ancient trees, each pulsating with an otherworldly glow. It's ethereal, enchanting, and unlike anything you've ever seen.

Drawing from a deck of fate, you'll encounter spirits, creatures, and natural phenomena as enchanting as they are daunting. Each encounter might test your spirit, challenge your harmony with this world, or tempt you to act against your values.

There is some combat in this game, but it certainly doesn’t seem to be the focus. The game is about survival, but you’re as likely to be navigating social situations as you are to be fighting enemies. What I like about this game is the spirit companion who will travel the world with you: there are four different options, each of them cute and enchanting. If you love Studio Ghibli films, you should definitely check out A Year in the Spirit World!

The Goblin Thought, by Kai Medina.

The goblin hoard - a pile of goods and trinkets - is a place of greed, yes. But it's the same greed that thrives throughout this land of men and beetles. It's the allowed selfishness that helps us learn and grow, walk and run, screech and scramble. The hoard is the goblin's memory.

The Goblin Thought is a unique and engaging journaling game that combines chance and narrative to create a compelling story. Players take on the role of a goblin, collecting memories and items in their hoard as they navigate through a world of wonder and danger, allowing for growth and change. With a deck of cards and a six-sided die, each turn presents new challenges and opportunities for creative storytelling, drawing, and reflection.

This game is placed in a fantasy setting, but with a larger purpose. It’s both a journaling game and a thought experiment, a chance to place yourself in the shoes of someone whose history exists within the hoard they have accumulated. Each card you draw from a deck has three prompts attached to it, so you have the potential to play this game (and build a history) for a very long time.

Little Shepherd, Little Spy, by @psychhound.

You try to keep out of the whole war business.

It’s just not really your thing. There are more important things to worry about, like Gethin, your biggest ram, getting stuck in the fence again, or Ffion rubbing against the raspberry bushes and getting her wool all sticky.

Life is pretty simple for a humble shepherd such as yourself.

Little Shepherd, Little Spy is a solo journaling game about being a spy in the fairy war. Choose which side you're on, then draw tarot cards to interpret the messages coming through the information ring. Your tarot card tells you what book to look at and what page. Then you copy down all the relevant information on that page and consult your spy codebook.

I absolutely love fairy games and the premise for this one is super interesting to me. Your character will be interpreting messages that take the form of books that you have on your shelf, and you’ll determine which book to look at (and which page to read) by drawing tarot cards from a deck. If you look into this one I definitely recommend setting aside some time, and perhaps selecting a few books for each category to have on hand, to ease the cycle of play.

The Wandering Library, by AP.

You are the proud owner of a Wandering Library. Whether you bought, built or inherited it, it is your home. Travelling as far and as wide as you desire, your days are spent encountering an assortment of customers, exploring new locations, and tending to your beloved home of books.

This is a a game designed to generate prompts for you to answer in as much or as little detail as you would like. All you need is two six-sided dice and your preferred method of journaling. Using the tables provided, you will explore locations and meet different people, recording your adventures and encounters as you travel in your Wandering Library.

This is a simple one-page game that presents you with a few starting questions, and the supplies a grid of prompts that you’ll roll 2d6 for. Each prompt is a new event, complete with a question, asking how your character reacts. There’s plenty of room for your own imagination. The house is a travelling library, which feels pretty fantastical to me! This game will likely last a few hours or so; it’s not really built for extended play.

Fetch My Blade, by Ethan Yen.

For years you have served your Master faithfully. A loyal companion, you accompanied your Master through the difficult times, and the good times. Now, you are called in a moment of dire need: a Stranger has challenged your Master to a duel, alluding to time before you. Your Master rises to the challenge, calling you forth. This is your moment. You have trained for this. It is time to do your Master proud.

FETCH MY BLADE is a solo journaling roleplaying game where you play as the dog of a retired legendary master of the sword, tasked with a quest of your own: retrieve your master’s fabled weapon in time for their final duel. On your quest, you will uncover and explore your Master’s guarded past-- transforming your character, deepening your relationship with your Master, and ultimately influencing your Master’s fate.

This is a lovely little game of exploring a dog’s relationship to their Master, and developing a backstory as you play. I don’t think there’s specifically a setting in place for this game, but the presence of swords certainly points towards the fantastical. There doesn’t seem to be any specific combat in the game, but violence is considered to have happened in the past, as the game provides a content warning regarding a war that has already happened.

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #dnd #game recommendations #asks #fantasy

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placeinthemiddleofnowhere · 1 year

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Is könig the type of guy to put a picture of sneaky in his wallet?

Because I feel like he is🧍🏻‍♀️

After the whole removing his shirt fiansco it might as well be a spicy-but-not-too-spicy-because-he-is-protective-like-that picture yk?

Ok so I know you've literally said that it could be something spicy *right* there, but for the sake of this super cute idea we're getting something fluffy ✨ with a hint of Sneak being naughty

You could hardly believe your luck. It was incredible, but you'd managed to find a day that both you and König were free after work and the rest of your team were too busy to question your absence from base. Price was dealing with something that required he and Gaz out of the country and Ghost and Soap were sent off on a mission elsewhere. None of them could track your movements and no one else was nosy enough to bother.

That left you and König time to wander into the city together, riding the bus like a couple of teenage runaways giggling to yourself in the stuffy shuttle, uncaring of the few nicotine addled people that rode with you. König leaned against the window and held you close to his chest, stroking your arm as he filled you in on the team’s antics. Apparently, despite heavily warning the 141 off of messing with their least favourite KorTac operator, the shits had decided to go ahead and do it anyway.

“MacTavish tried to jump out at me the other day, but I heard him blabbing to Ghost about it from way down the hall, so unfortunately for him it didn’t work! After that Price had tried to give me a telling off, but I ignored him of course, at which point I get assaulted by Ghost and Garrick when I walk out and-“

“Assaulted?” you groaned, cutting him off as he was in the midst of telling you.

Ghost had informed you that he’d had a polite word, but neglected to mention any kind of ‘assault’. At the time, you’d taken his lack of bloody knuckles to be a good sign, though according to sharp bitter tones in your lover’s voice - that wasn’t the case. You could only imagine what Ghost had done to König in the heat of his anger.

“He pinned me against the wall and practically strangled me, talking all this nonsense about ‘if you don’t leave Sneaky alone, you’ll find more embedded in that back of yours than nails’ as if he’s capable of that,” König snorted.

“König that’s awful!” you moaned, wrapping your hand around his arm.

“What was awful was the punch to the gut I gave him,” he said with a grin. “He let me go pretty quick after that.”

“He just let you go? Just like that?”

“Well, I might’ve run from him and his little companion, but that’s neither here nor there,” he said with a chuckle.

A whoosh of laughter burst free before you could stop it, but nevertheless you’d slapped König’s chest playfully and told him not to do stuff like that. It wasn’t worth riling Ghost up any more than he already was, he could be quite formidable when he felt slighted and the last thing you wanted was permanent damage on behalf of your so called ‘protection’.

Then, after the long winding journey had rolled to a close, you stepped out into town and grabbed something quick to eat. At which point you’d demanded to trawl the streets in search of a decent bar, looking for somewhere quiet to grab a cocktail. It was important you not go anywhere too crowded, but at the same time you knew that most of the old fashioned quiet places that König had pointed to were unlikely to make you anything nice if at all under the basis that cocktails ‘weren’t real drinks’.

Eventually, after a lot of discussion, sore feet from all the walking around, and whining on your part, you agreed to venture into a quirky little place with ocean themed decorations, ironically called ‘the dive bar’, that had a few customers and a relaxing vibe. The inside was lit by blue neon and dim yellow halogen bulbs and all the tables were made from old wood, like something off of a ship’s hull. It was cheesy, but it did a great Daiquiri and most importantly König wasn’t crawling out of his skin with crowd anxiety.

“I like this place,” you’d declared, looking around at the kitschy décor while you sipped your fruity drink. “It’s cosy.”

“It’s not so bad I suppose,” König replied, picking at the dewy label on his beer bottle.

“Oh c’mon, admit it, it’s fun!”

“If you think pirate decorations and hardly being able to see is fun,” he shrugged. “Then yes. Very fun.”

“Don’t be a spoil sport! Plus look, they have pool over there and foosball and… oh my god a photobooth!”

He groaned at that and narrowed his eyes, giving you a look as if to say not in a million years.

However, never one to deny you, he’d dutifully marched over for a game of pool (which you’d let him win of course, just to butter him up a little) and watched as he smiled victoriously when he’d potted the black ball. Though, he wasn’t so easily convinced into your next suggestion. Apparently getting König into a photobooth was harder than any other feat you’d accomplished yet.

“Those eyes won’t work on me,” he shrugged, taking a gratuitous sip of his beer. “I’m not falling for it.”

“But…pleeeeaaasseeeee,” you whined, dragging out each letter like it was molasses pouring from a tin.

“In case you’ve forgotten I can’t have pictures of my face floating around, Sneaky, you know this.”

“But you can put on your neck warmer!”

“I don’t have it,” he sniffed.

“Liar! You always keep it in your back pocket if you’re not wearing it,” you challenged, poking at his chest.

“Been staring at my arse much, hm?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, but nevertheless stood your ground. You were determined, you weren’t going to let him change the subject. You were high on the light buzz of overly sweet alcohol and you desperately wanted something to hold onto when you couldn’t have him near.

“You know I have been,” you winked, recovering quickly and embracing him. “And look – I’m right.”

He growled out and snatched the cloth from your hands, his eyes narrowing down at your ‘butter wouldn’t melt’ face. If you were anyone else, you’d be dead or held up by one of the decorative nets on the ceiling, but by virtue of being you, you were allowed to remain standing. Hell couldn’t beat the heat firing from his eyes, but even despite that, he broke and started to put the neck warmer on.

“You’re paying.”

You could hardly believe it, but you weren’t going to waste time standing there contemplating where the depths of König’s devotion lay. You followed him into the booth and planted yourself on his lap, excitedly slotting the coins into the machine, listening to them rattle, watching as the screen flashed and presented you with your options. Apparently you could choose a range of different filters and frames, though, ever a fan of the classics, you opted to go for a black and white filter and no frame.

“Look happy, grumpy man,” you chastised, looking over at him while preparing for your first photo and fixing your hair.

“This is me happy.”

“Don’t seem to recall you looking like that in the hotel room,” you whispered, brushing your lips against the side of his neck. "And I seem to remember you were very happy then."

The first photo flashed and you sniggered as you saw it dissolve into view, you looking sultry and pleased with yourself while König looked flustered under the mask. That one was a keeper for sure, no matter the protests that he made. He didn’t have much of a chance to put it down though. In a matter of seconds the timer was counting down again and you tried to do a silly pose, sticking up peace signs until König broke you by tickling your side.

“Hey! That’s not fair,” you said, half giggling half groaning.

“You got me, so I got you. Fairs fair, Sneaky,” he chuckled.

“You’re such a meanie!”

“Yeah, and you love it,” he said, his eyes glinting with a smile. “Otherwise you wouldn’t have stuck around this long.”

The third and final photo was taken when you were looking into each other’s eyes, locked in a gaze that betrayed the sickly lovebirds you were underneath all the playfighting and cool exteriors you both tried to preserve. Neither of you said a word as it came and went on the display, both admiring how the other looked, stuck in your adoring silence.

Though soon the screen went dark and König sighed, petting your thigh so you’d stand from his lap. You obliged and wandered out, going to fetch your paper strip of photos when you were beat to your prize. König snatched them first and held them up at a height, inspecting them again while you jumped and screeched like a Tasmanian devil.

“Hey! I paid for those,” you growled, trying to grip onto his shoulders for leverage.

“Maybe so, but I’m afraid I have to confiscate them,” he said in a fake somber tone, easily batting your hands off of him like a kitten. “They’re classified, you don’t have the clearance for them.”

“But they’re mine!” you whined.

“Mine now,” he grinned, slipping his temporary mask down so that he could stick his tongue out.

You huffed, but eventually you vowed to steal them later, not missing König sticking them in his wallet and making sure to secret it away in his front pockets away from your sneaking reach. You would get those photos somehow, someway, you’d told him. His bullshit arm span couldn’t protect him forever!

#könig #a rocky start #a Rocky oneshot

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sohannabarberaesque · 2 years

Text

Poetry Corner

Who among us hasn't had fantasies about what it would be like to picture an 800-lb. gorilla like Magilla stripped down naked and enjoying the sensation that is diving underwater, finding an unlikely fascination for that which lies beneath?

Or, for that matter, picturing Captain Caveman and Cavey Junior diving at some isolated little lake on some otherwise muggy summer's day-- with a brief moment sitting on the lake bottom in prehistoric-type silent prayer concluding with release of "those feelings" in offering?

Sooo ... how do these exercises in poesy strike you?

*************

@warnerbrosentertainment @hanna-barbera-land @warnerbros-blog1 @theweekenddigest @cottoncandy-wannabe @straights-world @hanna-barbera-blog @themineralyoucrave @welcome-to-the-wayne-fangirl @joey-gatorman @palefirecheesecake @jellystone-enjoyer @screamingtoosoftly @hanna-barberians @wackology @thylordshipofbutts @nighttimehound

#hanna barbera #poetry #poesy #diving #diving experience #unlikely dive companions #magilla gorilla #captain caveman #underwater world #underwater prayer #underwater worship #support jellystone #hannabarberaforever

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howlingday · 1 year

Text

How to: Goblin GFs

Ren: Step 1, locate the goblin.

Ren: Goblins are usually located in dark locations, such as fark forests, dark caves, and dark abandoned breakfast diners.

Ren: You will need to lure the goblin out with things that interest them, such as shinies, sweets, and tasty meats.

Ren: Be aware that goblins are naturally social beings and are seldom found alone.

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Jaune: (Sets down shiny dagger, ice cream, and pancake-wrapped sausages)

Jaune: (Hides in a bush)

Ruby: (Points, Shouts)

Neo: (Carefully moves closer)

Nora: (Bullrushes for the sausages)

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Ren: Step 2, once you have located the goblin, slowly and carefully approach. Maintain an air of calm as you move in.

Ren: As you approach, try to ease them with compliments, such as, "Your ears are looking pointy today," and "Is that homemade bog wash you're wearing? It's very fetching."

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

Jaune: (Walks closer)

Ruby: (Holds up dagger)

Jaune: (Throws up hands)

Neo: (Gets behind Ruby, Licking bowl)

Jaune: (Steps closer to Nora, Crouches)

Nora: (Snarfing down sausages)

Jaune: Your bogwash is smelling pointy today. Is that homemade ear fetch I see? It's very wearing!

Nora: Hm? (Chewing)

Jaune: Um, can I... Can I pat your head?

Nora: (Coughs, Hacks)

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Ren: Step 3, give head pats with her consent. Again, ONLY WITH HER CONSENT.

Ren: Be aware that your results may vary.

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

Jaune: (Headpats Nora)

Nora: (Purrs, Continues eating)

Ruby: (Gets closer, Points to her head)

Jaune: (Headpats Ruby)

Ruby: (Leans into headpat)

Neo: (Steps closer)

Jaune: (Holds out hand)

Neo: (Snaps teeth at him)

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

Ren: Step 4, offer more food, and or shinies.

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Jaune: I have more weapons and food at my tent if you'd like.

Ruby: (Excitedly bounces)

Nora: (Grabs Neo, Drags her along)

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

Ren: Step 5, bathe and pamper them.

Ren: It is very unlikely they will want to bathe, so try to be patient. If necessary, bribe them using steps 2-4.

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Jaune: (In the bath) Okay, who wants to- Ack! (Dives, Knives fly over)

Jaune: (Pops up, Gasps)

Ruby: (Holding another dagger)

Neo: (Holding out bowl)

Nora: (Holding out plate)

Jaune: (Sighs, Stands up) Alright, I'll get you some more food IF you get in the bath.

RNN: (Stare at his "legs", Walk to the bath)

Jaune: I'll be right back. (Walks out)

RNN: (Watch with predatory intent)

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

Ren: Goblins are extremely protective and loyal companions, so be sure that you are ready before seeking them out.

Jaune: Whatcha writin, Ren?

Ren: Oh, just something that came to me. How are you feeling?

Jaune: Sore. Neo and Nora keep fighting over food and Ruby keeps stealing the utensils.

Ren: Is it worth it?

Jaune: (Looks down at baby goblin in arms) Yeah it is.

#rwby #lie ren #jaune arc #nora valkyrie #ruby rose #neopolitan #silent knight #nora's arc #lancaster #itzkoaro #koaro

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fearlessinger · 1 year

Note

i would love to know your thoughts about how Will, Austin and Kayla are Apollo’s foils!!

Heyyy I’m so sorry this took me so long but… in my defense… it ended up being very long? I’d been meaning to do a deep dive into Apollo’s relationship with his children for a while, and you gave me the perfect excuse.

Starting from the obvious: Apollo’s children are mini mirrors of him. They clearly inherited a lot of his personality traits, both the good and the less good. Apollo’s ready to acknowledge the latter right off the bat, but it takes him until the very last book to admit that their kindness, their compassion, their willingness to stand up for the weak – for their disgraced father, to whom they remain inexplicably loyal even when he has nothing to offer them in return... they got that from him too. Will, Kayla and Austin reflect back to him his BEST qualities, finally allowing him to recognize and take ownership of them after an entire life of being made to feel like he had to suppress them. I’ve talked about this before so I won’t belabor the point here.

The other way in which Apollo and his children foil each other is perhaps more subtle but I think even more interesting: they have complementary arcs re: their relationship with their father.

Apollo begins the story having lost all faith in his father already. He doesn’t really believe in his father’s mercy, in his father’s compassion, in his father’s love anymore. He’s not surprised by his father’s cruelty, especially not when it’s directed at him. He’s under no illusion about who Zeus is, how he operates, what he’s motivated by. It takes him 4 books to call him abusive outright, but he’s been drawing comparisons between him and Nero since book 1. It’s in fact precisely the similarities between the two, between Nero’s treatment of Meg and Zeus’s treatment of Apollo himself, that first led Apollo to realize Meg is abused too.

When Apollo discovers that he’s bleeding red, he immediately knows what has happened. He understands that he’s been sentenced to death. He tries to convince himself that this is just like his previous punishments, that if he does everything right he will be forgiven and taken back in, and, being the incredible liar that he is, he makes it almost sound believable. But he knows, deep down, that it’s all bullshit.

I turned my face to the sky. ‘If you want to punish me, Father, be my guest, but have the courage to hurt me directly, not my mortal companion. BE A MAN!’

To my surprise, the skies remained silent. Lightning did not vaporize me.

And yet, it takes Apollo 4 books to finally say the word “abuse” in relation to his father. He keeps telling himself surely this is enough. Surely this is enough suffering to satisfy Father. He’ll take pity on me now. He can’t really want me killed. He’ll change his mind.

He clings to that hope, to that fantasy, as a last ditch attempt at denying the truth and, most of all, the inevitable consequences of it.

I suppose I could have raged at him and called him bad names. We were alone. He probably expected it. Given his awkward self-consciousness at the moment, he might even have let me get away with it unpunished.

But it would not have changed him. It would not have made anything different between us.

Apollo admires Percy and Jason for the fearlessness with which they stood up and spoke their mind to Zeus. But at the end of his trials, at the end of his character arc, Apollo chooses to bow his head and remain silent, because unlike Percy, unlike Jason, he knows, and finally accepts, that his father is a lost cause. Zeus won’t change. Zeus doesn’t want to change. He cannot be saved.

Because that’s what this was all about. Apollo refusing to give up on Zeus no matter how much it hurt him, right up until the moment it would have literally killed him, because despite everything, still, Apollo couldn’t bring himself to believe that there is nothing he can do to redeem his father. It may not look like it at first glance, but a big part of Apollo’s journey in TOA is about accepting that this is yet another choice his father has taken from him.

So Apollo doesn’t rage at his father. He doesn’t call him out on his behavior. He finally accepts that there’s no point in it. In every way that matters, now, to him, his father is already dead.

Will, Kayla and Austin, on the other hand, start out with a… quite frankly astounding amount of faith in their father, all things considered. But just like there was a caveat to Apollo's lack of faith in Zeus, there's a caveat to the kids's faith in Apollo too.

There’s no doubt in their hearts that he loves them. Apollo pays attention to them. Not nearly enough, of course, but enough that Will considers a prolonged period of silence on his father’s part not just weird, but outright alarming. Enough that the thing that they all consider irrefutable proof of his identity is him recognizing them and smiling at them.

It’s a tragically low bar, but one that none of the other gods manage to clear. Apollo’s children feel acknowledged. They feel cherished. They feel at ease interacting with him. They know he won’t mind if they bombard him with questions. He won’t mind if they tease him. He won’t even mind if they yell at him. We see them do all these things within minutes to a day of his arrival at camp, seemingly completely unthinkingly. We see Will confess his insecurities to Apollo the moment Apollo asks. Heck, Will confesses to Apollo that he made a wrong call with the nectar and almost killed him completely unprompted, as soon as Apollo’s awake. It doesn’t seem to even cross his mind that Apollo might get mad at him for it.

Will, Kayla and Austin believe their father to be nice. They believe him to be safe. They believe he means well, not just with them, but in general.

‘Jason is making that storm,’ Nico said. ‘If you fire the onager, you’ll kill him and Piper, and –’

‘Good!’ Octavian yelled. ‘They’re traitors! All traitors!’

‘Listen to me,’ Will tried again. ‘This is not what Apollo would want. Besides, your robes are –’

Will’s conviction that his father would NEVER agree to the slaughter of innocent demigods, not even if that’s the only way to defeat the gods’ greatest enemy, is so unshakeable he repeats it twice: once in front of the roman army, and once again as he tries to convince Octavian that even just a handful of lives is too high a price.

Damien reluctantly handed it over. I leaned toward the guitar case by Woodrow’s feet. The satyr leaped several inches into the air.

Austin laughed. “Relax, Woodrow. He’s just getting another string.”

There’s no way Austin doesn’t know the story of Marsyas from Will’s mythology books. In fact, his reaction here indicates that he does, because it’s only with that context in mind that Austin would find Woodrow’s reaction funny as opposed to confusing. But it doesn’t seem to quite click in Austin’s brain that the cruel god of the myth is his dad. Because Austin's dad would never hurt a fly. It’s simply laughable to think that anyone would have reason to be scared of him.

It’s worth noting that the rest of the CHB demigods don’t ever seem overly intimidated by Apollo either, which makes perfect sense considering how he presented himself to the world prior to his fall from grace. He used to act like a total clown. That's how the campers seem to think of him, and, to an extent, it's how his children think of him too. For all the faith they have in his character, they don't really seem to have a lot of faith in his ability to do… much of anything.

‘We don’t know what’s going on at Delphi,’ Will continued. ‘My dad hasn’t answered any prayers, or appeared in any dreams … I mean, all the gods have been silent, but this isn’t like Apollo. Something’s wrong.’

Across the table, Jake Mason grunted. ‘Probably this Roman dirt-wipe who’s leading the attack – Octavian what’s-his-name. If I was Apollo and my descendant was acting that way, I’d go into hiding out of shame.’

‘I agree,’ Will said. ‘I wish I was a better archer… I wouldn’t mind shooting my Roman relative off his high horse. Actually, I wish I could use any of my father’s gifts to stop this war.’ He looked down at his own hands with distaste. ‘Unfortunately, I’m just a healer.’

The phrasing of this bit is a little ambiguous. Was Will agreeing to the suggestion that his father might be hiding out of shame rather than take action against his descendant? We can’t say for sure, but I’m inclined to think so.

Will believes his father cares about him and his siblings. He believes his father doesn’t want any deaths on his or the gods’ account. But he also seems to have absolutely no expectation that his father would intervene to prevent these deaths. He feels that it’s HIS responsibility to stop the war, to stop Octavian. Of course, his father would never wish hurt on any of his descendants. His father would never hurt a fly. He is kind. Silly. A bit of a clown. He visits them in dreams. He answers their prayers. He can't seem to ever be there for them when it would matter most.

This is really the crux of the problem. Apollo’s children trust him. They don’t trust him to be able to protect them.

But they don’t hold this against him. How could they? They know him. They know it’s not because Apollo doesn’t care. It has to be because he can’t. Literally can’t. Gods can’t meddle in mortal affairs. And… is it possible… that maybe… maybe Dad's power and overall competence is a bit overhyped in the stories?

He sure can't seem to be able to put together a decent poem.

Kayla squeezed my hand. Her archer ’s fingers were rough and calloused. “It’s okay, Apollo… Dad. We’ll help you.”

Austin nodded. “Kayla’s right. We’re in this together. If anybody gives you trouble, Kayla will shoot them. Then I’ll curse them so bad they’ll be speaking in rhyming couplets for weeks.”

Kayla and Austin are such kids at the beginning of THO: self centered, blunt to the point of rudeness, shamelessly thrilled to learn everything about this crazy thing that just happened to their dad. It’s heartening to see. But as soon as they realize that Apollo is actually struggling, THEY are the ones who rush to reassure him, earnestly promising that everything will be alright, that they will support and defend him.

Like Apollo, who appointed himself his mother's protector mere days after being born, tasked himself with slaying the monster that had been tormenting her, felt an obligation to cut down whoever would dare badmouth her, his children too feel a responsibility to be his protectors, to defend his honor. Like him, who only ever thinks about his mother in terms of what he can do for her, who has no delusions that she could be his salvation in time of need, his children too are far more preoccupied with helping him than they are with anything that they think they might get from him in return.

It's the last thing Apollo would have wanted for them. He was so relieved to hear them worry about the Olympics and youtube views, and then utterly ashamed to realize that they care about him more. As much as he admires his mother, Apollo did not intentionally model himself after her in this respect.

But just like Leto, Apollo doesn't really have a choice. Or, well. Perhaps that’s not quite true. He might have one, but it's one he is not willing to consider. Not until the end of this story at least, not until he finally, definitively accepts that his father will never change, that his father cannot be saved.

“A father should give more to his children than he takes,” Apollo thinks in despair, looking at his children who are ready to give and give and give to him, even as he's left with nothing to repay them with, but in truth he is only reaping what he sowed. His kids only know of him what he’s let them see.

“That was so beautiful!” She wiped a tear from her cheek. “What was that song?”

I blinked. “It’s called tuning.”

“Yeah, Valentina, control yourself,” Damien chided, though his eyes were red. “It wasn’t that beautiful.”

“No.” Chiara sniffled. “It wasn’t.”

Only Austin seemed unaffected. His eyes shone with what looked like pride, though I didn’t understand why he would feel that way.

Was this the first time Austin actually heard his father play music without intentionally flubbing it? Based on what we saw of Apollo in the books preceding this one, I’d wager yes. But Apollo is taken aback by his son’s reaction. He doesn’t seem to have realized yet how deep an impact his habitual routine of feigning ineptitude actually had on his kids.

He’s not really making any effort to correct their assumptions either. He never protests when his children explain to him stuff that he already knows. He doesn’t offer advice when Kayla and Austin debate the best way to patch Connor’s injuries up, defers to Will’s judgment when doing infirmary work.

Granted, the kids know what they are doing. They technically don’t need his help in these matters. It just doesn’t seem to occur to Apollo that they might appreciate it anyway. It also doesn’t seem like he’s given any consideration to the fact that his trust in their abilities can only be worth so much to them, when they are given no reason to think he knows enough to evaluate them.

It must have felt so good for Asclepius to hear Apollo say “my son taught me this thing”. But that was a long time ago, and Asclepius knew his father in a way that Apollo’s children quite simply aren’t afforded in the present day.

To make matters worse, he is genuinely horrifyingly far from at the top of his game at this point in time, and not handling it well at all. In a stunning display of immaturity, he makes a whole spectacle of his poor performance at the archery range.

It’s no surprise then, that nobody listens to Apollo’s pleas to not attack Peaches, not even Kayla. In a combat situation, of course she trusts her own instincts more than her father’s. Neither she nor her brothers take Apollo's completely justified concerns about having a "death race" within the labyrinth seriously. They don’t listen to him when he insists that the game should be at least put on hold until the prophetic trees situation is under control. They don’t even ask him to help them with the infirmary, not until Will is left alone and absolutely needs the spare hands.

As much as he tries to hide it, it’s clear that Will has very little faith in Apollo’s ability to rescue Kayla and Austin. And is it any wonder? How can Apollo save his children now that he’s a mortal, weaker than even the weakest demigod, when even as a powerful immortal that was beyond his power?

Apollo couldn't save Lee, or Michael, or the rest of Will's unnamed siblings who died in the battle of Manhattan. He gave them gifts – weapons, to help them in the fight. He was not, he could not be there for them when the weapons ran out.

Now, the only thing that’s changed is that Apollo doesn’t even have enough power left to protect himself.

As soon as they were gone, Will gave me an apologetic smile. “They’re in shock. We all are. It’ll take some time to get used to…whatever this is.”

“You do not seem shocked,” I said.

Will laughed under his breath. “I’m terrified. But one thing you learn as head counselor: you have to keep it together for everyone else. Let’s get you on your feet.”

Of course Will is terrified. He easily admits this to Apollo, but then immediately changes topic, relieving him of the burden of having to reply. He knows Apollo has no reassurances to offer him at the moment. And he loves him. He doesn’t want to make this any harder for him than it already is.

Will’s used to having to manage his own terror alone anyway. Keep it together for everyone else. He can be the rock for his father too. So he smiles, he stays calm, he gives all the support he can while pretending that he himself requires none. He commits to this course of action so thoroughly that Nico feels compelled to intercede, to try to communicate Will’s needs to Apollo in some way:

Nico rested his hand on Will’s shoulder. “Apollo, we were worried. Will was especially.” [...]

“I’ll be fine.” I pulled on my jeans. “I have to save Meg.”

“Let us help you,” Nico said. “Tell us where she is and I can shadow-travel—”

Nico's attempt is still pretty indirect. He’s trying to be considerate of Will’s feelings, respectful of Will’s choices. But the meaning of his words is obvious: Please, don’t do this to him. Will's not gonna be able to survive losing you too.

Perhaps the most interesting facet of Will’s coping strategy of repressing, repressing, repressing is the following:

“Gee, thanks….”

I got the feeling that he almost said Dad but managed to stop himself. [...]

“Guys,” Will interrupted, “why don’t you run to the Big House and tell Chiron that our…our patient is conscious.

Kayla and Austin alternate between using Dad and Apollo with no discernable pattern, seemingly at random, which makes sense considering how young they are. It's likely that they've known their father – properly known him at least – for little more than a year at this point in time. They are familiar with him, but not so familiar that thinking of him as Dad is second nature to them.

But Will has known Apollo longer, and to him it is. He so clearly struggles to not call Apollo Dad. He catches himself right before saying it twice in their first scene together, despite the fact that Apollo looks nothing like himself, and nothing like someone who could plausibly be Will’s dad either. But Will recognizes him, even though he wishes he didn't, and the word is automatically on the tip of his tongue. It slips out of him anyway, seemingly without him noticing, at dinner that night, while he and his siblings argue against Apollo that the planned activities for the next day are a perfectly acceptable level of dangerous:

“It’s different now,” Austin told me. “Since Daedalus died…I don’t know. It’s hard to describe. Doesn’t feel so evil. Not quite as deadly.”

“Oh, that’s hugely reassuring. So of course you decided to do three-legged races through it.”

Will coughed. “The other thing, Dad…Nobody wants to disappoint Harley.”

It doesn’t happen again, though. Will makes sure of it.

Maybe he thinks that as long as he does not say the word, there’s still a chance that this will turn out to be just a really weird nightmare.

Maybe he fears that if he does say it, he’ll be tempted to lean on Apollo for support, and feels that he can’t afford to do that when Apollo is barely holding himself upright, and seemingly eager to throw what little health and safety he still has away like it’s worth nothing.

Maybe he’s afraid of getting any more attached than he already is, now that Apollo could quite literally die on him at any moment.

Maybe, even if he doesn’t want to acknowledge it, doesn’t want it to be true, a part of him is actually angry with his dad for putting him through all this, willingly or not.

(And speaking of foiling, and of Apollo and his kids being mirrors of each other, I think it’s worth mentioning that Apollo, for his part, does the same thing in reverse. He refuses to call Will, Kayla and Austin “my children”, feeling undeserving of the title of father, until the moment Kayla and Austin are stolen from him. He only allows himself to acknowledge the connection when it will hurt him the most, but at the same time, also, when he is finally in a position to do something for them, as opposed to them offering to do things for him.)

And then.

Apollo doesn't die. And not only does he not die, he brings back with him Kayla and Austin and Meg and all of the missing campers safe and sound.

Suddenly, everybody’s looking to him for guidance, taking directions from him, deferring to his leadership.

“I think there’s a way,” I said. “But I’ll need your help.”

Austin balled his fists. “Anything you need. We’re ready to fight.” [...]

“Hey!” called Nico di Angelo. He and Will scrambled over the dunes, still dripping from their swim in the canoe lake.

“What’s the plan?” Will seemed calm, but I knew him well enough by now to tell that inside he was as charged as a bare electrical wire. [...]

“What’s the plan?” they ask him. And also “How do you know it will work? What if you fail?” They don’t feel the need to stop questioning him, but they trust his answers. They trust that as absurd as his idea to take down the colossus might sound, it’s their best shot. They win. They all live.

Of course, Apollo only gives us a terse summary of the aftermath of the battle. To tell us about how happy, how proud of him his children are, would completely ruin this nice self deprecation thing that he has going.

The next time we see Will, Kayla and Austin interact with their father, it’s 4 books and almost 6 months later, after Apollo has finally resolved that he must make the effort to respect other people’s choice to believe in him, even though he thinks himself unworthy:

‘Dad!’ Will shot to his feet. He ran down the steps and tackled me in a hug.

“Dad!” is the first word that we hear Will say. And it’s not a slip up this time. It’s all Dad, Dad, Dad the whole book. Will doesn’t call him “Apollo” once.

This change in Will’s attitude is, in all likelihood, not just due to the events of THO. He, and Kayla and Austin too, must have heard accounts of what Apollo has done in between then and now, not only from Meg (who is at this point simultaneously Apollo’s biggest critic and his biggest hype machine. A powerful combination), but from Camp Jupiter and the Waystation too. And I’d bet that those accounts were nowhere near as dismissive of Apollo’s actions as Apollo’s own narration is.

We see everything filtered through Apollo’s still very biased perspective, and we know how much he doubts and berates himself. We know that he’s more acutely aware of his mortality now than he’s ever been, and that he’s readying himself to make the final sacrifice.

But Will is not scared anymore. Not like before. There’s no trace in him of the barely concealed terror that gripped him all through THO. He’s still just as eager to offer Apollo support, but now he seeks out his father’s support in turn.

It only takes one word from Apollo for Will to immediately confide to him his worries about Nico, his hope that it will be good for Nico to have something else to focus on, if they can help Apollo accomplish this task. Helping Apollo is almost more an excuse to help Nico in Will’s mind at this point. He tells this to Apollo before he even tells his boyfriend. He looks to Apollo for support. Quite literally.

Nico seemed to realize, at the same time I did, that Will hadn’t shared all the lines of the prophecy with him.

‘William Andrew Solace,’ Nico said, ‘do you have something to confess?’

‘I was going to mention it.’ Will looked at me pleadingly, as if he couldn’t make himself say the lines.

‘The son of Hades, cavern-runners’ friend,’ I recited.

This becomes a bit of a running gag, even: Will begging Apollo with his eyes to say the awkward thing in his place. It’s a stark contrast to his behavior at the beginning of THO, when he felt compelled to give Apollo an out whenever any sort of awkwardness manifested itself.

At one point this happens:

‘So what do we do about the rest of them?’ Will asked. ‘Dad, you sure you can’t …’ He gestured at our bovine audience. ‘I mean, you’ve got a god-level bow and two quivers of arrows at basically point-blank range.’

It’s the first time we see Will make an explicit, direct request of Apollo. A small one, sure, but I think the casualness of it, coupled with everything else, is indicative of how fast and comfortably Will’s settling into the habit of relying – actually relying on his dad.

He trusts his father’s judgment to the point that he doesn’t hesitate even for a second to give Apollo nectar when Apollo asks, despite the fact that his father is still technically mortal at the time, and drinking nectar should still technically kill him, as Will no doubt remembers, because the discovery caused him a fair amount of grief at the beginning of THO.

In practice, their situation hasn’t changed that much overall since the first book. They are still facing impossible odds. Apollo isn’t any less prone to concussions, he’s not any less vulnerable or fallible than he was when they last parted ways.

Yet, Will’s expectations of his father have changed on a fundamental level. Apollo doesn’t seem helpless to him anymore. Far from it. And his praise means more to Will, now, than Will can manage to express in words.

Nico smirked. ‘Friends, meet my glow-in-the-dark boyfriend.’

‘Could you not make a big deal about it?’ Will asked.

I was speechless. How could anyone not make a big deal about this? As far as demigod powers went, glowing in the dark was perhaps not as showy as skeleton-summoning or tomato-vine mastery, but it was still impressive. And, like Will’s skill at healing, it was gentle, useful and exactly what we needed in a pinch.

‘I’m so proud,’ I said.

Will’s face turned the colour of sunlight shining through a glass of cranberry juice. ‘Dad, I’m just glowing . I’m not graduating at the top of my class.’

‘I’ll be proud when you do that, too,’ I assured him.

We’re never told why Will was embarrassed of his glowing talent, to the point that he apparently hardly ever showed it off, and even on this occasion had to be coaxed into doing it by Nico. If I had to guess, I’d say probably because it’s yet another ability of his that completely lacks offensive power. But Apollo thinks it’s amazing, and he leaves Will no room to argue otherwise, and the next time we see Will, he’s glowing brighter than he ever has, bright enough to be mistaken by Nero’s soldiers for a god, and loudly declaring himself his father’s son in front of everybody.

It’s easier to see all this in Will, who has the most page time out of all of Apollo’s children, but Kayla and Austin’s perception of their dad too has shifted in a similar way. A single compliment from Apollo makes Kayla blush right down to the roots of her hair. “You're taller,” is the first thing she and Austin tell him upon greeting him. “You hold yourself straighter.” This may or may not be factually true, but regardless I would wager that their comments are reflective of more than just a physical reality. He looks taller to them. He’s grown in their esteem.

Kayla had been listening quietly, but now she leaned in. ‘Yeah, Meg was telling us about this prophecy you got. The Tower of Nero and all that. If there’s a battle, we want in.’

Austin wagged a breakfast sausage at me. ‘Word.’

There’s a big difference between this dialogue and when they promised Apollo that they’d protect him, back at the beginning of THO. The way they phrase this, it’s like they expect some pushback on the idea of them joining the fight. They expect that their father will want to protect them. That he may not even need them. And they respect his initial decision to leave them at camp, where he hopes they‘ll be safe.

But they make a point to let him know that they want to be there for him, with him, anyway. They know that, one way or another, their time together is coming to an end.

It’s pretty obvious that this is something that weighs heavily on the minds of Will, Kayla and Austin all through book 5. Not so much the possibility that Apollo will die, but the possibility that he won’t. That he will become a god again, and they will have to go back to seeing him only in dreams, if they’re lucky maybe in person once a year, never for longer than it takes to exchange a gesture of affection, a couple hollow platitudes. That they’ll never get to be this close with him again.

They don’t ask him to stay. The big requests still feel too big for them to voice. But everything they actually say and do is telling enough.

"I was hoping you'd come back," Will says, giving him the new clothes he's bought for him just in case. And he adds, "I wanted you to feel at home."

‘Hey, if we don’t get out of this –’

‘None of that talk,’ I chided.

‘Yeah, but I wanted to tell you, I’m glad we had some time together. Like … time time.’

His words warmed me even more than Paul Blofis’s lasagne.

I knew what he meant. While I’d been Lester Papadopoulos, I hadn’t spent much time with Austin, or any of the people I’d stayed with, really, but it had been more than we’d ever spent together when I was a god. Austin and I had got to know each other – not just as god and mortal, or father and son, but as two people working side by side, helping each other get through our often messed-up lives. That had been a precious gift.

Austin makes a point to underscore that it’s not the mere fact of having gotten to share some time with his dad that he’s grateful for. It’s not like he never saw or talked to Apollo before. He and his siblings are lucky, for a demigodly definition of the word. Apollo always gave them the time of the day. But this is different. Austin doesn’t quite know how to describe, put into words, what exactly the difference is.

But Apollo does. “Austin and I got to know each other as people,” he says. He calls it a precious gift, as if it’s something out of his hands. Because it is. It will continue to be, until Apollo decides to wrestle it out of the hands of his father. He still doesn’t know that he can.

[Dionysus] disappeared in a grape-scented cloud of glitter.

‘Such a show-off,’ I muttered.

Will laughed. ‘You really have changed.’

‘I wish people would stop pointing that out.’

‘It’s a good thing.’

Notice what is it that prompts Will to remark on Apollo’s change. It’s not Apollo being desperate to get Kayla and Austin and Meg back, to the point of risking his own life to go find them. It’s not Apollo being kind to Harley and winning the child’s loyalty along with a ukulele. It’s not Apollo expressing sorrow and regret about Jason’s death.

There’s a moment, later in the book, in which Rachel actually does give Apollo the “it’s so great that you actually care about people now” speech, but to Apollo’s children this doesn’t seem to register as an actual change in their father at all. They never show surprise to see him care.

Instead, what Will chooses to highlight as a novelty is Apollo rolling his eyes at Dionysus’ antics. He’s used to his father being kind. He’s not used to his father being serious. And he likes this new serious version of his dad – not humorless, but also very much not a clown all the time. It feels more real, somehow. Will doesn’t have anywhere near enough context to fully understand it, but the thing that he's really reacting to is the lack of a mask.

Apollo does understand though. He understands what his children are trying to communicate to him, even though they are careful to phrase their desires exclusively as expressions of gratitude. He may find it hard to believe, still, but he ain’t stupid. It’s painfully obvious that his kids want more of this. More of HIM. And he wants nothing more than to be able to give it to them. But much like his children don’t dare ask, he doesn’t dare make a promise that he’s afraid he won’t be able to keep.

I think you can see, at this point, what I meant when I said that Apollo and his children have complementary arcs re: their relationship with their father.

Apollo needs to give up on a father who refuses to accept him as his own person, keeps him from his own possessions, from his own loved ones. He needs to give up on a father who hates him enough to orchestrate his death. He must, for his own sake, and, most importantly, that of his children.

Will, Kayla and Austin need to realize that they are entitled to ask more, that they should demand more of a father who loves them, completely unconditionally, enough to be willing to die for them. A father who, they are starting to discover, may be fully capable and willing to murder for them, too.

The series ends before any of them have time to really act on the revelations they have had, the lessons they have learned. It’s an open ending, but the way forward is clear.

Apollo tries to tell himself that it will be enough to keep his distance. But even as he tries to convince himself of this, he’s admitting that there’s really only one way to stop tyrants like Nero. Tyrants like Zeus. Who can’t be reasoned with, because they don’t care to be reasonable. Who can’t be cut off either, because they feel entitled to everything and have the power to trample all over other people’s boundaries. Visiting his children in secret, helping demigods behind his father’s back… that strategy wasn’t working for Apollo before, and it’s not gonna start working now. There’s only one way this story can end, and deep down Apollo has already acknowledged it.

Apollo’s children, on the other hand, and I want to say especially Will, because he’s the one who has the most reasons and the most need to, should finally allow themselves to get angry at their dad. Because now they have seen, they have proof, that he can be a much better parent to them than he’s been all their life. Because they know him too well, now, to be able to make excuses for him. He is simply too good to be so awful a father. So how dare he?

The one time he was there with them, even as a mortal, even without his power, he saved them. So why could he not do it all the times before? Why could he not do it for all their other siblings?

Apollo let go of his anger, and, with it, he let go of the last of the hope he still held for his father too.

Will should be angry with his father because, now, he actually has hope for him.

No, it’s not Will’s responsibility to reform Apollo. But it matters to Apollo what his children have to say. What his children want. They know him well enough, now, to know that he’s both capable and willing to change for them.

But Fsinger, you’ll be asking me now, what about the infamous solangelo book teaser scene in the TON epilogue? Doesn’t that go against everything you’ve been so correctly and exhaustively arguing up until now?

To that I have to say

1) I was hoping you wouldn’t bring that up

2) I really, really want to be wrong, but that scene really reads like a hasty, completely graceless reset of the status quo so that Will and Nico’s adventure, and probably many more after it too, can be written still following the same old formula that has already proven to sell. Suddenly, jarringly, Apollo's back to feeling like he can't do anything but watch in resigned impotence as his kids march to their death, and Will’s back to making excuses for his dad. Everything can continue on as usual. Move along, spectators, there’s nothing to see here. If you thought this story was leading up to a specific place, no you didn’t.

#i am so ready to ignore tsats inevitably retconning the shit out of this ✌️✌️✌️✌️#thanks for coming to my TED talk #actually no joke thank you for your patience i'm so sorry to have kept you waiting #i'm gonna get to answering the other asks soon. before the next ice age starts i swear #toa #toa meta #rrverse #will solace #kayla knowles #austin lake #thesungod

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fabricated-misslieness · 1 year

Text

ᴘᴀɪʀɪɴɢ: sully kids x hard of hearing metkayina gn reader (platonic)

ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: In a search for a way to communicate with you, the family has to master Na'vi sign language. Along the way of teaching them, however, you learn more about yourself.

This is a gender neutral version of a previous fic! If you have read it, it is the exact same thing.

ʀᴇ𝐐: yes ~ ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 6776 ~ male reader vers.

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: feelings of shame and embarrassment, struggling to hear and understand people (and yourself), hints of angst

ᴍᴀʏʙ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: to check the original notes, check the male reader vers. (this version has more words because I included the extras) - There aren't actually many pronouns or moments referring to the reader in my fics that aren't in second point of view. Knowing this, I only skimmed through. If you encounter anything I missed along the way, don't hesitate to tell me. I WILL make the necessary changes.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

You had no qualms with solitude, as all you needed was the sea; but eventually, it proved to be a problem.

The sea gives and the sea takes; it gave you a world to love and took your hearing.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Tsireya introduced you to Sully’s in their first lesson as one of the Metkayina who truly loved the ocean. “This is our best free diver,” She put a hand on your shoulder, “(y/n). You’re lucky I managed to find 'em.”

Instead of responding in some negative way at her comment, you grin and offer a small wave.

“How so?” Lo'ak questions.

Tsireya doesn’t answer outright. She giggles, “You’ll see.”

The chief’s children and you jump into the water, demonstrating the proper way to dive in that best transitions into swimming. The Sully’s, on the other hand, jump into the water as though in play.

You could see it in their eyes, their amazement. The sea was an entirely different world from the one above, it was something you loved about it.

Only the Na'vi and their animal companions mingled on the coast above. The ilu could be compared to their banshees, nothing special; and the people, though physically different, were still Na'vi.

You didn’t doubt that these water creatures were unlike anything they’d seen before, and you were happy that they were astonished with the wildlife you, too, loved.

You turn back forward to swim, knowing that they’ll follow. You show them the form, using your tail to help and keeping your body like a spear to be able to cut through the water.

You lead them deeper into the sea, but Ao'nung taps your shoulder. You turn to follow his finger, which points up.

The Sully’s were taking a breath of air. Right, that’s probably something you should teach them, but you were probably not the best teacher.

Within the water, your safe haven, you tended to forget many things, so you signed to them, keep going, forgetting they didn’t know how to sign.

They don’t even make it to you when they go back up for air.

What’s wrong with them? Ao'nung signs.

They’re bad divers. Rotxo replies. Though fingers and hands hardly conveyed emotion, you knew from Rotxo and Ao'nung’s generally jokester demeanor that he was making fun of them.

Stop, they’re learning. Tsireya scolds.

Whilst they talk to one another, you get distracted with something out of the corner of your eye. It was bioluminescence, hardly noticeable during the daytime, which is why it’s so curious. You forget the lesson at hand and follow it.

The chief’s children and Rotxo swim up to talk to the Sully’s where they will actually understand each other. It is only after Tsireya promises to teach them sign language, which Neteyam ignorantly describes as “finger talk”, that they notice you and their dear sister’s disappearance.

You struggle to catch up with it.

It dives behind large coral, hoping to lose you, but you always catch up. Hammerhead squids found safety in numbers, so they usually didn’t go so fast, which means it would tire out soon.

Knowing this, you kept up the chase. Regardless, however, it puts up a good fight.

Though you move past it, its original outcome–clouding your view–succeeds. When you clear the ink, you suddenly bump into someone.

Sorry. You sign, rubbing at your forehead where you’d bumped into her, so so sorry.

The girl before you is one of the Sully’s. Her eyebrows furrow, confusion in her face, but you misinterpret it as anger. Great, it’s the Sully’s first day in the clan and you were already giving bad impressions.

I didn’t mean to bump into you.

Her eyebrows furrow further. Ultimately, although she doesn’t like it, she decides to surface so that the two of you may speak. She points up and you understand.

Once you’re up at the surface, she says, “I don’t know what you’re saying.”

You had long since memorized the way one’s mouth moves when they say those words, and their variations, so you explain, “I was apologizing for bumping into you.”

Though the next couple words come muddled to you, you just barely catch her saying “alright” and a wave of relief washes over you. “What’s your name?”

“Kiri.” She gives you a polite smile.

“Nice to meet you, Kiri.” You nod. “I didn’t realize we’d lost you while diving. Why’d you wander off?”

“Oh, I um,” She worries that you may think her a freak, so she waters it down. “I got distracted.”

You chuckle, “Yeah, I get it. Happens a lot to me too. It’s like a different world, isn’t it?”

Her face lights up when you agree with her, “Yeah, it is.” She ached to observe it again, to be surrounded by Eywa'eveng. “Do you mind if I..?” She gestures down.

You tilt your head, confused. “You what?”

“Go down again.” Kiri mutters, little ashamed to say out loud that she’d rather be underwater than talk with you, but you manage to read her lips.

“Oh, of course I don’t.” You shake your head, “Actually, I was in the middle of finding something. Do you wanna come with?”

Though she much preferred to take the sights all in on her own and on her own time, she had to admit your offer was interesting. “Okay, sure.” She nods.

Kiri follows you back underwater, and keeps swimming after you. Reminded of the other Sully’s, you make sure to keep your head straight and swim at a slower pace.

She stays in place, entranced, and almost swims for it before remembering the task at hand. However, when she turns to you, you’re swimming back to her.

Txampaysye. You sign, but of course she wouldn’t understand. So, you wave your hand in the water to create ripples in the current and signify the water. Then, you pass a hand from your stomach to your throat and out your mouth to signify breathing. Breathing underwater.

Somehow, she understands. Though the butterfly-like Txampaysye catches her attention, uncharacteristically of her, she gestures for you to keep going. She’ll have time another day.

Just a bit of swimming later, you find the squid again. It doesn’t notice you. You point at it and Kiri’s head tilts with curiosity.

How could a squid be bioluminescent in the day? The sunlight’s rays still reached it.

Do you want to catch it? You closed your hand, from splayed fingers into a fist very quickly, the sign for catch. It was pretty straight forward, so Kiri understood; what she didn’t understand, and what she was against, was the idea.

The question was only formal. You swim forward without waiting for her answer, thinking she wanted to catch it.

Once you are close enough, you lunge with a quick, sharp movement. It doesn’t have time to react before you catch it between your fingers and palm.

Triumphantly, you turn to Kiri with your hand raised, failing to notice her growing anger. You swim towards her with enthusiasm.

Fyìp ioang. You sign.

For a moment you think you may be misinterpreting confusion as anger again, but you quickly realize you’re interpreting correctly. Kiri pries your fingers apart, freeing the creature who spurts the last of its ink (only a little) and leaves.

Her eyebrows are furrowed, a look you hate, and she points up towards the surface again. You follow, embarrasment beginning to spread through your body.

“You shouldn’t be taking animals against their will.” She scolds, pointing an accusatory finger at you. Her anger was loud and clear in her voice, loud enough for you to hear.

“Sorry.” You purse your lips and mumble so low you can’t even hear it yourself, “I was only curious.”

She huffs, “Your curiosity doesn’t mean you can imprison them just to poke and prod.”

“Yeah,” You point your gaze down, “you’re right.”

“Just don’t do it again.” With that, she begins to swim away, not caring if you follow her.

With shame, you dive back into the water, in search of one of your favorite places to soothe yourself.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The next morning, on their way to their second lesson, the Sully’s find you.

Lo'ak, after yesterday, now understands why Tsireya was lucky to find you before. He thinks they’re pretty lucky today, too, as it seems you’re going to head into the ocean. “(y/n)!” He calls for your attention, but you don’t hear him.

You’re just about to dive in, so Lo'ak hurries up to meet you. He catches you by the shoulder. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You greet him with a smile. “What’s up?”

“You left us yesterday. Where’d you go?” He asks curiously.

“I’m sorry, what?” You ask, having not heard him entirely.

“Where’d you go?” He repeats.

Again, you don’t hear him. You purse your lips, the shame of not being able to understand people creeping in. “Oh, sorry, I didn’t hear you.”

“Where did you go?” Lo'ak repeats for the third time, slowing down his speech.

“Look, I’m really sorry–”

Neteyam catches up, slinging an arm over Lo'ak’s shoulder. “What my brother means to ask is where you went yesterday, when you were supposed to be teaching us.”

“Teach you?” You tilt your head as you think. Did the Olo'eyktan assign you something? Tsireya only took the opportunity because she saw you yesterday. You can’t think of anything, though. “What am I supposed to teach you?”

Lo'ak sighs, “When you were teaching us how to free dive?”

The sigh makes you purse your lips. Your stupid ears were making people frustrated again. Still, you couldn’t say anything when you didn’t understand them. “…what about it?”

Tsireya comes to save you, noticing the struggle between you and the Sully’s. “(y/n), here,” She begins, pushing Lo'ak’s hand off your shoulder, “struggles to hear, if you guys haven’t noticed.”

She signs to you, taking advantage of the fact they don’t know how to sign. Do you want them to know your story?

You shake your head, to which she nods.

“It’d be much appreciated if you guys spoke louder, spoke clearer, and moved your mouths wider.” She demonstrates the way they should speak as she instructs them. “It helps them to be able to read your lips until you learn how to sign.”

“So they can hear us?” Lo'ak asks.

“Barely.” You respond, reminding him that you are in fact in this conversation.

Neteyam nods, rubbing a burn into his brother’s scalp. “Sorry, Lo'ak needs to remember these sorts of things.”

“Shut up, bro.” He pushes his brother away, causing him to skid sideways a few paces.

“(y/n), you would be a great help in teaching them sign language.” Tsireya turns to you, signing as she speaks.

You understand, but you purse your lips. “Today? I sort of wanted to explore…”

“Doesn’t have to be today, no,” She shakes her head, “today is about breathing. If you want to leave, that’s perfectly alright.”

She smiles at you. Oh, Eywa, you loved Tsireya. She was so kind.

You take her permission and give a wave before diving into the water.

You swim farther into the ocean, trying to wash off your embarrassment with the cool water. It burned in your cheeks, anyway.

It had been a long time since you were a burden. The Metkayina accommodated for your hearing loss. You were lucky to be born in the clan who originated the language that didn’t require hearing. You had long since come to a comfortable life because of it.

When you realize that the embarrassment won’t wear off so easy, you lay down on the sea grass covered sand—or lay down as best you can. The current pushes your head and limbs up.

Your intent was to relax, but the bioluminescent squid from yesterday pops up above you. You react quickly, reaching out and trapping it in your hand again.

You. You sign, awkward because you’re one-handed, You embarrassed me in front of Kiri.

You’d missed two of its tentacles in grabbing it. It crosses its arms, giving you attitude, then pointed at you instead. Somehow, you understand.

Alright, fine. You huff, It’s my fault. You release the squid, but this time it lingers. You forgive me?

It waves two of its tentacles up and down as if to nod its head.

You pluck a small fish from its school and hand it over as an extra peace offering. Sorry, fyìp.

Why do you want to hang out with me?

The tentacles at its sides raise up in a shrug.

You lost your group. You purse your lips, extending your hand so that the squid may sit on it, even if it is redundant underwater. Are you trying to find a new one?

It shrugs again, though accepts the spot you give it on your hand.

Well, I suppose we’re the same in that. You and I, we’re special. I’m hard of hearing, and you’re bioluminescent. You laugh inwardly, Although, those are two different things.

Fyìp does a twirl in your hand. It seems pleased.

Alright, let’s go. I’ll show you some of my favorite places.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

After the Sully’s breathing exercises, Neteyam is eager to find you. He dives into the water, both practicing his breathing and speed.

For the third time, he’s lucky to find you returning to the village for dinner, this time you were fortunately not caught up in exploring the sea.

Neteyam waves his hand in greeting. You do the same, though you hadn’t realized he had more to say.

(y/n). He signs.

Immediately, your eyes light up. Neteyam is delighted.

Who taught you that? You sign. Your hands are a flurry of speed, but he manages to catch the words anyway.

He recognized “you” and “taught” and the distinct lack of “I”, so he can assume what you asked. Tsireya. He signs simply, for she hadn’t taught him much more than that and your names.

I’ll teach you too.

He recognizes “I”, “teach”, and “you”, and understands. He nods excitedly, then points up towards the surface. You follow.

“You’re learning.” You grin as you surface.

“Yeah.” His smile turns bashful, “I want to learn so I can talk to you better.” He even exaggerates the movement of his lips so that you may read them.

“Aww, that’s sweet.” Though you’ve only known him for so long, you give him a hug. “Thank you.”

“No need to thank me.” He shakes his head, still holding your elbows gently even as you part from the hug, “It’s just what I should do.”

☾⋆☆⋆☽

“Hey, La'ok.” You tuck a hair behind your ear, “Sorry I couldn’t hear you the other day.”

“It’s nothing.” Lo'ak shakes his head, “I was actually being rude. I didn’t know you had–wait a minute.”

“What?”

“Did you just call me La'ok?”

Your purse your lips, genuinely confused. “…is that not your name?”

Lo'ak’s eyebrows raise. He closes his eyes as he registers the situation. La'ot. You thought his name was Lo'at. He laughs into his hands, shaking his head. It’s a laugh of disbelief, self-deprecating in a way. “La'ok!”

“What’s your name?”

“Lo'ak.” He exaggerates the enunciation.

You read his lips, “Lo…” His face rises with hope. “..at?”

“What?” His head jerks dramatically, “No, no, Lo'ak.”

“Lo'at.” You repeat again, not catching the way his tongue remained neutral at the bottom of his mouth.

“It’s Lo'ak. Not T, K.” He corrects.

“Lo'ak.” You nod, pursing your lips, “Okay. I uh, think I’ve gotta go.”

“Do you?” He asks. He hadn’t heard your name being called, and if it was you probably wouldn’t either. He also didn’t think you were really someone with many tasks in the clan.

“Yep.” You say, your voice akin to a meep.

Before he gets a chance to respond, you run towards the water with a hurry and dive in. Fyìp finds its way towards you immediately.

Fyìp! You sign with the equivalence to a whine, That was so embarrasssing!!

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Oh, you skxawng! You’re late, you’re late, you’re late!

Too caught up within the serenity that the sea brought you, you had forgotten that you were supposed to be teaching the Sully’s sign language!

“Oof!” You grunt as you bump into a column. It was one of the ones that supported the Marui pods above.

You pull yourself up onto your elbows on the pathway between pods, spitting out the water you’d caught in your mouth when you bumped so stupidly into a column.

When Fyìp lands on your shoulder, you turn to it with a huff and go back to rubbing your head. Then, once you actually notice, you double take back to it.

“You can go above the surface?”

Now, no longer muffled by the water, you can just barely catch its squeal. Huh, so it was making sound all this time.

It twirls around your shoulder as if to say yes.

You turn your head back forward, resting your chin on the pathway. “I’m so stupid–wait.” The Sully’s and the chief’s children are having the lesson quite a few ways ahead of you. They didn’t seem to notice you. “It’s them.”

Fyìp’s eyes almost seem to light up when it sees Kiri.

“Gah, should I really be joining them now? I’m so late!” You frown, thinking it over. “I’d be so lost,” You narrate your thoughts for Fyìp, “every time I think about something to teach, what if they already taught it? What even is their teaching plan? I shouldn’t have gone out today. Should’ve stayed to talk to Tsireya.”

Thanks to your awful hearing and tunnel-vision, you don’t notice Fyìp yapping in your ear. Only when it slaps you on the shoulder–it was a small animal, hardly hurt–do you pay attention to it.

“What?” You whine, now rubbing your shoulder.

Fyìp points forward vigorously, pulling its tentacle forwafd and back repeatedly.

“It’ll be so embarrassing.”

It crosses its arms in front of itself like a no. Even though you’re sure it will be, Fyìp’s insistence reminds you of your promise to Neteyam. It wasn’t broken just yet.

“Okay, fine.”

At your affirmation, Fyìp drops back into the water. You follow suit.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Learning a new language, later in your life, was always hard. Although, Jake Sully was the only one in his family with that experience.

“Lo'ak, why are you home early?” Jake and Neytiri rush over to him, sitting down as he does.

“Sign language is so hard.” Lo'ak groans, his head down.

“Learning another language is hard,” Jake affirms, putting a reassuring hand on his son’s shoulder. “but it’s like everything else. With practice, you’ll get the hang of it.”

“At first, he was terrible at Na'vi too.” Neytiri grins, causing Jake to roll his eyes.

“Yes, and I became better.” He gives her a pointed look, to which she only replies by baring her fangs playfully.

“Well, it’s more than that.” Lo'ak frowns, looking down at his hands, the very reason he was so different. "I have five fingers! Everyone else has four. Whenever there’s a sign that requires fingers, everyone stares at me and Kiri. Their looks are so blank, but I can tell what they’re thinking.“

"So why didn’t you say something?” Jake asks. “It’s unlike you to not do anything.”

It was a good question that left him silent as he thought. He didn’t really know the answer, not as he dug through the surface of his mind. As he searched deeper, he found an answer, but he didn’t really want to believe it. “It’s because… Tsireya and (y/n) were there.”

“And..?” Neytiri prods for him to continue.

“I don’t want to disappoint them…” Lo'ak purses his lips, “or be a burden to them.”

“Son,” Jake places his hands on both Lo'ak’s shoulders, causing him to finally look up at him. Jake wanted to be sure that Lo'ak understood the sentiment behind his words. “you’re only learning. You can’t disappoint them. And if they get upset at you, then that’s their fault because they do not understand you and who you are.”

“Next time,” Neytiri speaks up, catching their attention, “make an arrangement. Find a way to work around it. Alright?”

Lo'ak nods, “Okay.”

☾⋆☆⋆☽

But, for once, you’re seeking someone out.

“Kiri!” You call, “I was looking for you.”

“What is it?” Kiri asks, treading carefully on her words.

“I saved you some dinner.” You hand her a leaf dish of fish.

“Oh.” Only once she sees the food does she remember her growling stomach and hunger. “Thank you.” She takes the leaf from you gingerly but begins to scarf it down once it’s in her own hands.

“It’s no problem.” You begin, “Sometimes I accidentally skip dinner too. I know the feeling of great hunger in the morning.”

Kiri nods in understanding.

“Make sure to get the water out of your ears.” You enthusiastically demonstrate by tipping your head to the side and tapping the side of it. “You don’t want to end up like me.”

Kiri almost chokes on her food. She coughs and puts it on the sand temporarily. “Like you?”

“You know,” She doesn’t know how you can retain a smile like this. “bad hearing and all.”

Ever since you’d lost the majority of your hearing, the adults started using you as an example of what not to do. Not only did they advice the young ones while using your example, they also advised your peers. At first, it was embarrassing, but you began to understand why you were an example and had long since grown used to the embarrassment it brought.

“(y/n), are you using yourself as an example?”

“What?” You tease, “Wanna end up like me?”

“No, (y/n), that’s not what I mean.” She takes both your hands in hers. “You shouldn’t be using yourself as an example of what happens if you don’t take care of yourself.”

“Why not?” It was pretty normal to you now. You purse your lips, “Everyone uses me as an example. I am what happens if you don't–”

“Because,” Kiri breathes out in disbelief, “you’re more than an example. You’re your own person. You’re more than your past mistakes.”

“You’re right,” You snicker at the thought, “just like last time.”

“I’m just saying what has to be said.” She reassures, rubbing her thumbs over the back of your hands, “Value yourself more.”

☾⋆☆⋆☽

The trend of you seeking other people out, when it’d always been the opposite before, followed along for Lo'ak.

After your sign language lessons, you retreated into the ocean to clear your thoughts. Now that you had what you were looking for, you had to find Lo'ak, which thankfully doesn’t take long.

“Lo'ak!” You call as your eyes find him.

He himself seemed to be searching for you too, so when he sees you, his eyes brighten. He covers the ground between you two quickly. “Hey, I was just looking for you.”

“Me too. Do you wanna go first?”

He nods, “I found out a way we can work around my fingers.”

“Your fingers?” You tilt your head forward.

“Yeah.” He shows them off, wiggling all five for you.

“What about them?”

“Oh,” He realizes the question wasn’t because you’d somehow forgotten how many he had, but because you hadn’t heard the rest of his sentence. He speaks with his mouth wider for you, “I found a way to work around them.”

“That’s what I was trying to find you for, actually.” You snicker, “I found a way to work with them.”

“With them?” He hadn’t thought it possible.

“Yep.” You grin, “Oh, but you were going first. Go on.”

“Right, um,” Lo'ak lifts one of his hands with the other, up to your view, then he pulls his last finger down. “I was thinking we could tie down my pinkie.”

“Your pinkie?”

“My last finger, the smallest, it’s called the pinkie.”

“Okay, right.” You nod.

“Tie it down with like a, um,” He snaps his fingers while he thinks. “rope or something until I learn to stop using it.”

After hearing his thought, you burst out laughing. It leaves Lo'ak confused. He stands there awkwardly, arms falling down to his sides with a building shame because he can’t understand what you were laughing at.

“Sorry, um,” You shake your head to wipe the laughter from your face, “that’s too cruel, Lo'ak.”

“Cruel?” He asks, eyebrows furrowed.

“Yeah, don’t you think? It’s just like what your sister taught me. We shouldn’t take things against their will.” You hold his hand to bring it back between the two of you and press his pinkie down against his palm. The force you put on his knuckle and the position is rather uncomfortable for Lo'ak, and it shows in his face. “See?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” He mutters, then realizes his mistake. “Sorry, I mean, you’re right.” He enunciates louder and clearer. “Just that… I couldn’t really find any other way.”

“Well, I was thinking we could just use your middle fingers as a unit.” You bring his pinkie back up and press your fingers on his middle fingers, “What do you call them?”

“This is the middle finger,” He wiggles it and specifically avoids accidentally showing it off to you, even if you probably don’t know what it means. “and this is the ring finger.”

“Okay.” You nod, understanding quickly. Then, you press your fingers against the ring’s left and the middle’s right and hold them together. “We can consider these as my middle finger.”

You hold your hand up next to his, pulling your other fingers down to show him the middle. He almost laughs and tells you the meaning, but decides it’s funnier if you don’t know.

“Say, "happen” for example.“ You use his hand as if it were your own, as yours was holding it, and press the side of yourd against it. Then, you bring it to the side quickly whilst pushing your fingers wide apart. "To mimic my middle finger, you can use your middle and ring fingers together.”

“But… wouldn’t it be confusing?” Lo'ak argues, looking up into your eyes.

You turn away from him, biting your lip, “Much the same as you’re… accommodating for me by learning sign language, we must accommodate for you too. It’s only right.”

“Accommodate…” He hated that word, and clearly, you were just as ashamed to use it. It had been used all throughout your lives because of your particularities. “Let’s not say that.”

You turn back up to him, a glimmer of hope within your eyes. “What do you mean?”

“Let’s not say we’re accommodating for our differences.” He turns his hand, the one that rested upon your palm, and uses it to hold yours reassuringly. “Let’s just say that we’re doing this for each other.”

He loves the way your face lights up with a smile. “That sounds good.”

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Neteyam finds you as you’re coming back home for dinner early. You’re tapping the water from your ears when he approaches.

“Hey.” You greet, noticing him.

“Hey.” Neteyam mirrors. His face displays an enthusiastic grin. “How was the ocean today?” He signs as he speaks.

You pay attention more to his signing, as he was noticeably putting much effort into it. You read his signs out loud, “How was.. the fish, yesterday? I thought it was pretty good.”

“No, um..” He doesn’t let the failure get to him. Instead, he shakes his head and tries again.

“How was the… algae, today?” You blow a raspberry as you think, “Little slimy, green, just like always?”

Neteyam restarts, thinking the signs over in his head again. He was on the right track: ocean, fish, algae, all things related to water. He just needed to get the sign right, he’d already gotten the “today” part. “Okay.” He tries again.

“Nete…” You frown, “I don’t know what you’re trying to say.”

“Alright, maybe I’ll try something else.” Neteyam sighs. He rethinks it all again. “Alright. Do you like ilu?”

“Do I enjoy swimming?” You nod, “Of course I do, but less than resting underwater.”

“No, that wasn’t it.” He shakes his head, letting out a small groan. He rubs his hands together, warming them up to ready himself.

“Do I… excited, dive?” You frown, “I don’t think I’m reading those correctly.”

He sighs. Seeing how far he was from what he wanted to say, he puts his head in his hands. “I’m not doing well…” He whines into them.

You take his hands in yours and pull them away from his face, primarily so that you may actually read his lips and or listen to him, but you know the message the gesture conveys anyway. “Don’t worry. You’re still learning.”

“Well, I won't–”

“No more self-deprecating thoughts.” You interrupt him, squeezing his hands. “You’ll get better eventually. I promise you’ll get better with time.”

Neteyam huffs, but he nods. “I don’t know how you’ll fulfill that promise though.”

“Fpivìl…” You say as you think. When you find an idea, you snap your fingers. “I’ll teach you better, I’ll be more proactive at thinking of lessons. Are you a visual or auditory learner?”

“What?”

“We’ll figure that out too.”

Neteyam had to say, your enthusiasm was contagious.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

Thanks to Tsireya’s efforts, the Sully’s had learned the ways of the Metkayina.

Soon enough, they were good enough at free diving that they were allowed to perform their first Iknimaya trial, catching a small shell thrown into the sea.

Of course, it was the first because it was the easiest, the Metkayina completed it when they were young; but still, it called for a celebration.

Ronal denied a coming of age celebration. It was past the season for it, the tulkuns weren’t home yet, and the Metkayina didn’t know the Sully’s enough for it to have any real sentiment.

It didn’t matter to you, though. All they really wanted was a celebration with friends (which Ao'nung so gladly volunteered to not participate in).

You brought them into the sea for the celebration. For once, it wasn’t a test of their breathing, speed, or swimming form. It was just exploring, enjoying the water; and they hadn’t done that since they tamed their ilu.

As you dove into the sea, Fyìp swam to be near you. It seemed unbothered by the stares of awe he received.

Kiri grinned, signing to you, Fyìp ioang?

Yeah! Call him Fyìp now. You offer it a spot on your palm, which it accepts. You thrust your hand forward to show them all. He warmed up to me, forgave me.

Forgave you? Lo'ak signed. After your arrangement, he’d really gotten good at sign language.

Though the celebration was not meant to be a test, it was a great demonstration of how they were on their way to master sign language.

I believe I told you about the lesson Kiri taught me. I caught Fyìp to show it off to her, and she taught me I shouldn’t have done so, even through all my curiosity. You nod at the thought, Wise words.

Kiri tucks a hair behind her ear, It just made sense to me. Not something wise or anything.

Sure. You huff out a laugh, then turn around to swim further in. Fyìp clings onto your shoulder.

The sights were already amazing. The Sully’s were no longer limited by depth or obstacles now that they knew the way of water, so now they could see everything the sea had to offer.

You turn back to them again with an offer, You guys wanna see one of my favorite places? Knowing that they’ll definitely agree, you turn back around and start leading the way.

It doesn’t take long before you are standing before a marvel.

It was a cove of coral, fish, and many more ocean creatures. They were all colorful and eye-catching, but the main attraction was the ilu. It was similar to the Banshee Rookery in the Ayram alusìng.

We don’t always tame ilu bred from other ilu at the village. Sometimes, we come here, though rarely. You explain.

These ilu were wilder, more aloof, but they still retained their friendly nature with the Na'vi. So long as you do not anger them, we can hang out with them.

The Sully’s were practically let loose around the area. As you already knew much of it, you laid down on a rock at the heart of it and simply watched. Fyìp stuck around you, catching stray fish for dinner.

Kiri easily communicated with the ilu. Even if they were already friendly, they seemed even warmer with her.

Lo'ak managed to find the more playful ilu and had somehow gotten himself into a game of tag. He seemed to be one of the runners. He ducked behind coral, up and around rock arches. He was holding his own, despite the ilu naturally being much faster. Tsireya found herself watching too, and was laughing at Lo'ak’s panicked face as he narrowly avoided being caught by an ilu.

As Lo'ak and Kiri both found their own things to do, it seemed Neteyam was stuck with Tuk. But she wasn’t a burden to him. What kind of big brother would he be if she was?

He held her by the hand and admired some of the smaller creatures with her, although it seemed as though she had other intentions.

She escaped Neteyam’s grasp and began swimming away with vigor. For a moment, Neteyam panicked, rushing after her with alarm. However, he soon relaxed once she saw she was going to you.

She waved hello adorably with a grin then signed. As the youngest, she had a bit more trouble with signing, but you understood her. Why do you like being in the water so much?

Well, it’s very serene. You reply.

Neteyam caught up. He seemed interested too. Is that it?

You shrug, Sort of. There’s some other reasons, but… You took in Tuk’s hopeful eyes. She was far too cute to be denied. I could tell them to you.

Please? Will you? She swims closer, holding onto your wrists so that you may still sign.

Perhaps Tsireya rounded them up; otherwise, you have no idea why, as signing doesn’t make sound, but they all round up around you. Even Fyìp swims closer.

It was a bit nerve-wracking, having all those eyes on you, but you had grown close to all of them. Nothing bad would come of it if you told them.

Okay.

Tuk’s smile grows wider, she swims away so the others can see you too.

Lo'ak and Kiri listen more carefully when you mention the word normal. It was something they both struggled with.

Everybody needs to sign to speak. You don’t need your ears to listen to them, you only need your eyes; and my eyes, I still have. Underwater, I swim and speak and listen just like everyone else.

Tsireya swims closer, a frown on her face. She holds your elbow endearingly, You are just like everyone else.

Yeah, you are. Neteyam does the same, swimming closer. You are Na'vi.

We are Na'vi. Lo'ak signs.

Though we are all different, we are all Eywa’s children. Kiri signs. It doesn’t matter in what way we are different, my fingers, our blood, your hearing…

Lo'ak’s eyebrows… Neteyam signs. Said eyebrows furrow at the teasing. Lo'ak retaliates by squeezing Neteyam’s exposed neck, as his brother always does to him. Neteyam pushes him away.

You guys, you all understand. You smile, I’m so sorry that the Metkayina treat you differently.

Lo'ak shakes his head, If it is something we must teach them, we’ll make them learn. He smiles, So long as we have great teachers like you and Tsireya to back us up, right?

You roll your eyes–he thinks it’s endearing–at him but nod. We’ll teach them that we’re all the same.

Tomorrow will be a good day for that. Tsireya signs, Let’s not forget we are celebrating your first Iknimaya trial.

Fyìp does an encouraging twirl that makes everyone smile.

To tomorrow. You sign.

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utilitycaster · 5 months

Note

Orym for the trauma ask. Besides the fandom's treatment of The Nod, one discrepancy that really stuck out to me was that in the middle of all the 'Orym is consumed by vengeance and that's terrible BS' was going on, we saw Keyleth explicitly vow revenge against the Ruby Vanguard ("The last thing that I saw, before the light took us, was someone important to me. Someone I lost long ago. And I will do everything in my power to destroy them who did this.") and I didn't see anyone giving her shit over it, even though her anger is directed at the same people and comes from a nigh-identical place. Was it because Vax, unlike Will, is someone the audience knows and his orbification happened onscreen, and that forced people to recognize how awful it would be to expect her to calm down and Be Reasonable™ about the whole thing?

throwing in the anon who asked me about Orym in general.

I think the core problem is again that this fandom has a truly awful track record re: people who lose romantic partners young and more generally about people who are grieving. That is the more useful Keyleth comparison; it's gotten better but the post-campaign meta for C1 (that I saw about a year after C1 had ended, after I had binged it) truly just treated Vex and Keyleth as boxes of grief and grief alone instead of people with lives marked by but not ended by tragedy. Once Yasha said she had lost her wife people started treating her notably differently; again, we had the people claiming Orym would be happier had he stayed dead despite Liam explicitly saying death felt like a failure; and this is ultimately the core of lifespan angst and why I find lifespan angst mostly tiresome. Like, Essek will outlive Caleb by centuries! Keyleth was, even had Vax lived a full and long life, going to outlive him by over a thousand years! Unless you die very young you will outlive someone you love. It doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, but like, this fandom (and probably others) truly seems to treat grief as a life-ending thing for the grieving rather than just the dead. So that's the big problem re: fandom response.

The other is that Orym gets thrown under the bus for Laudna a lot, for some reason. That's where the "Orym would be happier if he were dead with Will" came from and that's where the dumb discourse about the nod came from. It's just people who cannot abide by the idea that bad things can happen to Laudna and that she can do bad things deciding to pin it on Orym. I also think that Liam explicitly said on 4-Sided Dive that Orym could not be objective about this, and because they are very stupid and cannot understand things that are not explicitly spelled out, they could not put together that, for example, Imogen, whose mother is deeply tied up in the Ruby Vanguard, cannot be objective either. Ashton just nearly exploded due to a critical lack of objectivity about the situation.

Sort of as a companion to talking about Caleb but I think Liam makes his characters' trauma and how they feel about it fairly explicit and plainly stated, more so than most in the cast, and this is an entirely valid choice but I think it means that, for better or for worse, people who lack the skill to interpret characters whose feelings and motivations are not quite as clearly laid out will gravitate to them to make their arguments, either for or against them.

#answered #rhowena #cr tag #orym

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taruchinator · 2 months

Text

💻 General Audiences

💻 2.6k Words

💻 Written for the Brain Zine!

Brain wasn't blind to his surroundings.

He prided himself on being a man of intuition—someone who simply had an inkling and relied on it on his day-to-day life, be it in battle or while interacting with others.

To say he didn't notice the cases of keyblade wielders being in a state of melancholy after the war would be foolish on his behalf. What could he do to change that?

Hey everyone, Alice here! Welcome back to my KH vault! ^^

I've been meaning to share this story written for the Brain zine about two years ago for a while now, since I'm honestly quite happy with how it came out! I was never much of a Brain fan, but I definitely grew appreciation for him while writing this.

It's meant to be a retelling of the in-game cutscene in which he creates the Spirits in KHUx post-Keyblade War. Wanted to dive into the hows and whys of him creating them, so hopefully you'll enjoy!

Brain wasn't blind to his surroundings.

He prided himself on being a man of intuition—someone who simply had an inkling and relied on it on his day-to-day life, be it in battle or while interacting with others. He was also very bright, both academically and psychologically.

To say the ravenette didn't notice the cases of keyblade wielders being in a state of melancholy would be foolish on his behalf. And it was a number that continued to rise almost at an alarming rate.

“Getting some fresh air?” A voice brought Brain back to reality, as he realized he had been leaning on one of the pillars outside of the prestigious Clock Tower that had once served as a hideout to the Foretellers. The view from above was breathtaking, and also remarkably spacious to all of Daybreak Town in its glory.

Adjusting his fedora in a way that would slightly cover his face, the ravenette smirked. “With all the paperwork and dusty old cabinets, can you blame me?”

His companion—their leader, a fact he'd have to get used to—chuckled softly at the comment. “Fair enough. Out of all of us, I'm kinda glad you're the one who volunteered to sort through the Foretellers' stuff. You seem to know your way around books.”

“Books contain the knowledge that people didn't have the courage to speak aloud. At least that's how I see it. For now, I haven't really found much of use other than what I already gave you…”

“Oh, don't worry! That's not why I'm here. Just wanted to see how you were doing, that's all!” Ephemer scratched at the back of his neck with a sheepish grin, one that had Brain realizing how true and genuine he was, unlike many others he'd met before. Probably one of the qualities Master Ava saw in him.

“Oh? How thoughtful of you then, fearless leader.” Brain rolled his eyes, which caused Ephemer to lightly punch him in the arm in protest, only to end up having a chuckle erupt between them as it echoed through the empty halls. It was rather… nice.

“I wonder how everyone's doing…” Ephemer spoke softly, as if it were more of a thought to himself rather than a question. The albino then proceeded to lean forward as he stared at the town below, admiring the view with a bittersweet gaze twinkling in his eyes. “I know this was all meant to happen, and it was for a greater purpose and all… I just wish the Dandelions didn't have to pay the price for it.”

“So he sees it too. Of course he does, I mean, anyone would.” Wielders could be seen in the distance by Fountain Square—the usual pep in their step gone and replaced with something much somber. As if there was a much heavier weight resting on their shoulders that would never permit them to be the same ever again.

This was the result of war.

“I wonder where he's at.” Ephemer spoke once more, this time curiosity evident in his voice as he leaned forward and squinted at the blobs in the distance. The ravenette couldn't hold back the chuckle that erupted. “Who?”

As if he'd forgotten he wasn't alone, the other boy jolted slightly and then went to scratch at the back of his head once again. A habit of his, Brain could only presume. “A-Ah! It's nothing, just a friend of mine! He isn't technically a Dandelion but he survived the war. Haven't seen him since, though…”

“Well, if he's a friend of yours, I'm sure he's fine. Probably goofing off somewhere.” Brain let himself smile for a moment at the statement, and then went to express what he'd been thinking about before Ephemer arrived. “If something like this was meant to happen in the Book of Prophecies, then I'm sure there must be some way to make it better. We just haven't found it yet. So don't give up so soon, leader.”

Staring in slight disbelief, the albino returned the gesture. “Thanks, Brain. You're right. Just gotta follow the clues laid out for us!”

“May your heart be your guiding key…” Brain nodded alongside his companion.

If there was a way to reverse the effect the Keyblade War had on all the wielders, he was positive he'd find it. As Union Leader, it was now part of his duties. No one deserved the dark hollowness that was brought by this aftermath.

He was going to make things right.

That was the duty of a leader.

The Foretellers' chamber was nothing like he expected.

For people who were meant to be an example to the entire Keyblade wielder population, they certainly didn't put ‘tidiness’ too high up on their priority list. You could probably argue that training would be at the top of that metaphorical list, but organization was the foundation to any good regimen, and this room was anything but organized.

Brain wasn't lying to Ephemer when he mentioned all the dusty old cabinets and scattered paperwork that he'd tried piecing together for the past few days. The place almost seemed ransacked, and as if someone had left in a hurry and didn't even bother to put everything back where it belonged.

Easier for him at least, since he could start a new system without any complications.

The room had hardly any furniture in it, despite what the size might suggest. Filing cabinets, a few bookshelves, the grand round table, and a small working station that most definitely belonged to the Master of Masters.

“You know your eyes are gonna fall off if you keep staring at those all day, right? It's not like if you read them again it will make something new appear!” A high-pitched voice spoke behind the ravenette's shoulder, not startling him in the slightest despite the fact that he was supposed to be alone.

“I actually started collecting lots of data based on the evidence left on these pages. And I wouldn't have been able to do that without thorough research, Chirithy.” Leaning back against the chair, Brain smiled as he turned to face his spirit companion.

The tiny creature merely let out a long sigh as it adjusted itself comfortably on the table. “It's always you and your research. Have you even eaten anything?”

“Some fruit from the Moogle Shop. You don't need to worry about me, I know my limits.” He waved his hand dismissively as he tried to get Chirithy off the book he'd been previously reading, and the small cat-like spirit could only reluctantly agree with a huff. “You say that, but you've barely gotten any sleep this week! I've had to wake you up at least three times just to get you on time for your meetings…”

Brain recalled the instances his companion was referring to, but immediately shook them off as he nodded towards the corner of the room. “If you want to get some load off my shoulder, why don't you tidy up around here? I've been inhaling nothing but dust and cobwebs for at least a few days.”

Turning to look at where the boy was pointing, Chirithy raised its eyebrows as it saw only a broom staring back at them. The spirit crossed its tiny paws, almost looking offended. “You think I'm this place's janitor or something?”

With a shrug, the ravenette picked up the book from before and pretended to start reading again. “I'm just saying, you'd really be helping me out.”

Chirithy stayed silent for a moment, its tiny fedora covering most of its face as they stared down at the floor. It didn't take more than a few seconds before a grumble was heard and the spirit jumped off the table. “Fine! But I'm only doing this because it's my duty as your spirit guardian! Also if someone else comes in here, I'm saying it was your idea!”

The Union Leader laughed as his Chirithy made its way towards the desired spot. “I'm counting on you, partner!”

More grumbling could be heard in the distance. “Yeah yeah, whatever. Just be sure to find something useful in those dumb old- woah!”

The carefree moment was short lived as the sound of collision reached Brain's ears. In its whining, the spirit hadn't noticed the cabinet that the broom had been leaning on, and promptly crashed against the solid surface with enough force to knock it over along with all the contents inside. The ravenette quickly stood up and made his way over. “Chirithy!”

Small clouds of dust had also surfaced from the fall, which caused the keyblade wielder to cough and wave for the puffs to go away. Chirithy suddenly emerged from the chaos—thick dust covered its body, and only a tiny area that appeared to be its nose was left untouched. “I-I'm…fine…”

After realizing his companion was unharmed, Brain visibly relaxed and allowed himself to chuckle at the display. “You know what? That look suits you quite well. Now you look like a black cat! That should teach you to watch where you're going.”

Chirithy began shaking its body to try and get rid of the black coal in its fur. “Hey, it wasn't just me! When you have piles of stuff lying around, how do you expect people not to trip?”

“What are you talking about? I didn't put anything-” The boy was quickly cut off mid-sentence, as he turned behind the creature and found a pile of books he hadn't seen before. Where did those even come from?

Brain walked towards the tumbled pieces of literature and knelt down to pick one of them up. A thick film of dust painted over the cover, and as such he blew at it to try and get some off. What lay underneath was something the ravenette could've never been prepared for.

The Master of Masters' journal.

“Brain? What's wrong?” Chirithy's voice brought the boy back to reality as he remained frozen in shock. Quickly standing up, he headed back to the workstation and planted the heavy book on the table. “Chirithy, I think we're finally onto something. I'm gonna need some time to read through this, okay?”

The tiny spirit perked its ears in curiosity, but understood the importance of the situation and simply saluted as he picked up the fallen broom. “Yes, sir! This place will be sparkling clean before you know it!”

As soon as the spirit left to start the sweep, Brain sat down and began flipping away.

He was thankful that after so many days going from one book to the other nonstop, he had learned the skill of skimming through pages in a matter of seconds. And the things that the young wielder was seeing were nothing short of fascinating.

Stories from the Master's youth. Entries on the Foretellers. Speculations on how the Keyblade War would begin and how to prevent it.

But there was one page in particular that immediately caught Brain's eye: ‘Creating The Spirit Chirithys’.

“Is this… a recipe to create a Chirithy?” The ravenette knew that the Masters had created the Chirithys as a means to give guidance to all Keyblade wielders, but he never actually stopped to question the method that was used to bring them to life. If this truly was a step-by-step process on how to create a Chirithy, then he had discovered a gem.

All Chirithys were meant to guide and protect their partners from darkness, and according to the Master's journal, they could also indicate the state of a wielder's heart—whether it still belonged to the light or not.

But above all else, the boy found one trait to be of particular interest: A Chirithy was able to consume its wielder's nightmares and protect them from them.

It was fascinating for certain, but Brain's mind couldn't help but wander into a possibility of something else. Something that could benefit all wielders, especially regarding their current situation. “If Chirithy can consume people's nightmares… What if they could also do that with bad memories? Those that bring nothing but pain and sorrow?”

Memories like those of the Keyblade War.

The prospect was far too enticing to pass on. Flipping through the pages, Brain looked into the strange list of materials he needed for the experiment—from Lux all the way to Fairy Dust. Thankfully, the ravenette had seen most of these scattered around the cabinets in the room.

He quickly gathered everything he could find, and began adding some slowly into a small circular beaker.

If he wanted this to work, he wouldn't just have to replicate a Chirithy, but also modify the spirit into something different. Something unique.

Staring at the instructions on his lap that seemed more like a load of rambling notes, Brain couldn't help but sigh as he massaged his temple in slight frustration.

Something told him it was going to be a long night.

“Aww he's so fluffy!”

“H-He's also a lot heavier than he looks!”

Skuld and Ventus were doting all over the small pink feline spirit, currently snuggling against the blonde's neck and licking away at his cheek. Skuld was scratching at the fluff in the creature's neck, giggling in glee.

“So these spirits are like Chirithy? What exactly are they for?” Ephemer stared from afar at the duo with a smile on his face, yet side eyeing Brain for an answer.

“Turns out the answer was staring us right in the face this whole time. The Book of Prophecies gave us the task to create spirits that will aid wielders in forgetting everything regarding the war.” The ravenette flipped the pages of his own copy until he landed on the aforementioned task left for them.

Ephemer's eyes widened slightly. “Forget the war? You mean… erasing their memories?”

“Exactly. Chirithy has the ability to devour our nightmares, and these little guys would have a similar purpose—erase the memories that cause most pain, in this case being the war. We would be the only ones who would recall the event.” The only ones that would carry the burden. As any leader should.

“I see…” The albino kept his gaze fixated on Ven and Skuld, watching them giggle and laugh at the small creature running around them in circles. His smile changed to a more somber one. “As long as it's protecting them, I don't see why we shouldn't go with it.”

Noticing Ephemer's change in demeanor, Brain elbowed him on the side with a smirk. “Don't you worry, leader. The memories left behind will be nothing but good ones. And besides, its not like only one person will be holding onto this secret. You're not alone. You've got us.”

Returning his smile to normal, the boy elbowed him in return with a wink. “Yeah, you're right. And speaking of not being alone, neither are you. You should get some rest while the rest of us look into the chamber.”

Brain scoffed slightly. “I'm fine, but thank you for the concern.”

Ephemer merely raised an eyebrow. “Your Chirithy said they've caught you passing out in the desk more often than usual.”

“What? When did he-?”

“It smells to me like he could use a shower, too. May I interest you in a little something called soap?” Out of nowhere, Lauriam joined in on the teasing as he walked next to the ravenette with a smug look on his face.

Laughter erupted between the two and Brain could only sigh in defeat.

He was never the type to do things with others in mind. He was a loner for the majority of his life. And yet here he was, being thrusted onto a world with different values and ideas from his own, still it didn't bother him as much as he thought it would.

Maybe Master Ava was right.

The future wasn't decided, no matter what the Book told them. And with a group as unpredictable as theirs, perhaps they stood a chance at making things better.

For everyone.

✦𝐂𝐡𝐞𝐜𝐤 𝐌𝐲 𝐂𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐝 𝐓𝐨 𝐅𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰 𝐌𝐲 𝐒𝐨𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥𝐬!✦

#my stories #kingdom hearts #brain kingdom hearts #brain zine #khux

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