#and he has no qualms with em

[jellazticious]

Collection of shitty Jace and Al doodles 🤌🤌🤌🤌

[domreader-headcannon-scenarios]

Hello! I really love your works sm, can i request a sfw or nsfw head cannons of the angels from WHB? Thank you!!

I’m so glad you liked them!! So I’m tryna write the angels as best I can Gabriel is the only one I’ve met outside of a event, I’ve seen the other two in the Halloween event! I like em but ngl they have…unique kinks I needed to google hifth

I hope you enjoy!!

Over all cw: blaspheme (I think?? ((Angels worshiping you)), death (not main characters), abuse of power

Sfw/nsft hcs on Angels!

-

Gabriel

Cw: inappropriate boners,

He basically a guard dog standing over your shoulder 24/7 to keep you safe, he calls you his ‘Lord/Lady/Highness’ and has an army of angels who think the same of you

He’s not very affectionate but if you just say ‘hold me/my hand’ or ‘kiss me’ he’d do it in a heart beat. As his God he only wants you pleased

He’s a terrible cook and somehow steals food and is terrifying good at getting away with it (it must be an angel thing??) he dosent even lie saying he made it, he’s just vague where it came from (only once have you caught him in the act and you made him apologize, but the person gave him the food regardless)

He dust a lot in your home and you cant help but notice the ‘home made’ duster he ‘found’ has feathers matching his wings…

Nsft

Canon Kink: Hierophilia; deriving sexual pleasure from religion, religious places and objects as well as find the act itself religious

He enjoys watching you participate in religious activities…maybe too much. He also finds pleasure in treating you as his god.

You jokingly thought of making him go to church, only for him to jump at the chance. He lowkey regretted it when you didn’t touch him, and made him stay squirming in his seat instead of helping him get off. He for whatever reason thought you’d let him jerk off or would touch him yourself as you were holy, nothing you did was wrong but…touching himself in this place is

You’ve actually caught him touching himself to you praying before, he got bashful upon getting caught but you swear you’ve heard him doing it after that, you just don’t catch him in the act (though you’ve caught him awkwardly standing by and adjusting himself)

He’s got a adorablely small and sensitive cock and he genuinely doesn’t need it touched to cum, roll it between your fingers for a few minutes and he’s trembling as he spills out all his cum

Michael

Cw: murder, inappropriate boners

He’s strict with everyone around you, but not you, in his eyes you are the law since he serves only you, you cant do wrong

He’s terrible if you have guest, he demands they now to you and though he’ll settle if you tell him to, he watches them like a hawk and makes sure nothing gets out of hand

You see that leash? If you get mad and pull on it, he will calm down and you have his full attention, give it another tug downwards, and he’ll drop to his knees in front of you, and anyone else in the room

He likes brushing and styling your hair, he’ll try to help you bathe, insisting you don’t need to lift a finger, he will take care of everything, just relax

Nsft

Canon Kink: Erotophonophilia; ‘Muder kink’, deriving sexual gratification from killing or watching someone get killed (BOY IS THIS A HARD KINK TO CASUALLY WORK WOTH)

If push comes to shove he has a habit of killing people who harass you too much/threaten you, but he gets…really excited afterwards and is pressing his thighs together to hide his erection, especially if you’re clearly not in the mood

You’ve seen him get in fights while still aroused from the last kill an honestly, when in public you sometimes just force a chastity cage on him to discourage him acting out

Though he believes self pleasure, or just the act in general is…sinful, he will do anything for you with no qualms, he only feels good when you touch him anyway

He suffered from wet dreams whenever you’re around him or he has objects with your scent

When he want to fool around desperately he will walk right up to you, kneel and beg you to touch his neither regions, stroking, slapping, pinching, doesn’t matter as long as you touch him

Raphael

Cw: messy kitchens, messy person, furniture abuse,

He’s messy and kinda gets annoying at times since he discovered how much fun it is to smash condiment packages

He’s good about cleaning, and he even cooks to make up for the mess…but he’s a sloppy cook too but at least it’s not intentional this time

He doesn’t understand that the furniture isn’t trying to hurt you and doesn’t need to be punished. He’s broken threee tables, one bed post and five chairs since he’s moved to being your ‘Guardian Angel’, all for tripping you or you stubbed your toe on them

He’s not affectionate but he’s not distant, he just follows your lead, he stands close by and if you ask him to come over he flops in your lap and looks up at you like a puppy. He likes when you watch tv and let him lay across your lap, he falls asleep easily that way

Nsft

Canon Kink: Automysophilia; getting sexual gratification from defiling oneself, being dirty or defiled

He enjoys getting messy with cum, blood, dirt, just about anything. He will be blissed if you strip him and cover him in…well it’s up to you ;)

He has no qualms with jerking off in front of you if you don’t want to touch him while he’s too messy, but he wants you to be fully clothed while he’s sprawled out naked in front of you

He’s fucked slime before since it feels…weirdly good around his shaft, to the point he gets excited when he sees it around the house. You had to punish him for thinking he could ‘fool around’ with it then hide it away again

He’s got a very sensitive halo, while other angels get off to them being touched like a devils horns, he avoids it since it brings him to his knees in seconds

[geekynightowl1997]

I bet the first time Nana meets Eliot- she sees the God fearing, flag wearing 18 year old boy. (The one that Eliot looks for in the mirror and can't find.) Nana doesn't see a criminal. Doesn't see a man who has blood on his hands. She doesn't see a warrior bleeding and crying out for mercy. Just a over tired, stressed, broken 18 year old- trying to prove to the world he's worth fighting for. That there's hope in saving him. Nana doesn't question Eliot's roaming eyes. Roaming eyes that are either looking for danger or looking for exits. The older woman simply smiles and pulls him to the kitchen. Makes him sit down and puts a mug of coffee near his callous hands. Nana doesn't react when she hears screams, moans, and groans at night. Nor in the morning does she make a remark about walking by the room and seeing Hardison and Parker next to Eliot on the twin bed. (Eliot is in the middle.)

I bet when Nana first meets Parker, she doesn't question her habits at all. Some how (Hardison, obviously,) has Parker's favorite candy and cereal. Some times, Parker will sit right in front of Nana with a brush and a hair tie. Nana will gently brush her hair while she plays with whatever child is in front of her. She doesn't slap Parker's hands away when she grabs extra food. And she definitely ignores seeing Parker sneaking into the room Hardison and Eliot share. (Nana saw it when they walked in- Parker feels safe with them.) In the mornings and the windows are open- she looks out to see Parker and Alec on a bedsheet curled up to each other. She smiles. Nor does she comment on missing things after they leave. Especially since a few weeks later- those things return outta the blue. Nana has no qualms when Eliot shows up with both Parker and Hardison behind him- Parker sick and Hardison injured.

"Sorry, Nana," Eliot apologizes, looking meek at coming to her place, "I can't get them to list'n. Can't get 'em to rest." And together- Nana and Eliot get the two trouble makers on the couch. She might not question the reason why Eliot showed up with the two. However she does give Eliot a sparing look. She see's the ragged, tired look. It doesn't take a whole a lot of brain power to know that the two so called trouble makers- got Eliot into the dog pile. (He was suppose to follow her into the kitchen- he didn't. She knows Parker and Hardison grabbed his wrist.) (What can anyone say? She has eyes on the back of her head.) (Eliot allows to get pulled onto the couch with only mild, gruff, complaining.) When she goes back to the living room to check on her charges- she finds Eliot in squished in the middle- being used as a pillow. (He's knocked out too.)

Nana doesn't mind Parker teaching her kids how to pick locks. Or watching Eliot teach them self- defense. She doesn't question it when she see's little four year old Becca with pig-tails- standing by the counter helping Eliot with breakfast. Nana hums when she opens the door on a Saturday morning and see's Eliot, Parker, and Hardison (though Hardison begrudgingly-) with a tool box. After all she had left a message to Alec that her sink was leaky.

Instead, she makes coffee and pulls out Parker's favorite cereal. She asks if They are staying for lunch and even dinner. Makes causal remarks about one of her more difficult children- and watches as Parker and her baby Alec go and find the kid.

None of them comment about Parker recruiting half of kids that come from Nana's house. They keep it hush- hush when neighbors stop by for a cook out. Many of the neighbors ask about the trio- and Nana only replies with a smile.

"They're my kids." She says fondly- watching as Eliot grills as Parker is poking and prodding the chef. And Alec is simply smirking as he's showing Isak how to hack.

I bet Nana treats Eliot and Parker like her family. Because they are Alec's family.

[anachilles]

thinking more just now about @middlingmay's football player/journalist AU

there's a fine line that journalists have to tread between what they want to ask, and what they should ask at any given time, in order to both get something interesting to publish, and keeping management teams on-side enough to let them come back and give them access to the players.

gale's ardent "dispassionate impartiality" when it comes to his reporting means he's a notoriously hardball interviewer. one who is incredibly observant has no qualms at all pointing out both the individual mistakes and consistent, long-running in players' performances. not necessarily maliciously, or like he's looking for a "gotcha" moment, but from a place of getting the answers his readers are actually looking for.

making him a journo both players (especially for them being in league one and generally just starting out their careers, with a lack of media experience/training) and their managers + PR teams are trepidatious about setting up interviews with.

not helped by the intense, insanely blue-eyed stare he hits you with when waiting for an answer to one of his questions. does he even know he's doing it???

but at the end of the day, gale's a very well-regarded journalist (to the extent that it's almost a privilege that he chooses to cover league one) and he has a loyal + wide-reaching readership so it's very hard to turn down the opportunity for that kind of press.

so when bucky does finally agree to give his first ever public interview, no one expected it to be to gale cleven. or how much ease he felt answering him back, being tongue-in-cheek with him, and not seemingly taking much of it seriously at all.

or any interview he gives cleven going forward, actually.

or how cleven seemingly puts up with it match after match.

like gale will write these full columns picking apart the team's performance, having no scruples honing in on bucky's errors despite the 'special relationship' they seem to have.

and bucky will still answer (some of) his questions on-camera with a visibly nonchalant shrug, an unbothered smirk. constantly changing the subject though, diverting them off-topic. blatantly flirting with him.

"enough about that, though, i'm wearing new boots this week too. did you notice? new sponsorship. they offered me them in a bunch of different colours and i had to guess your favourite, so i hope you like 'em."

"hey now, hey now. anymore questions about what i do for work and you'll have me thinking we're on a first date."

on a day when it's been raining all morning and into the afternoon, and gale shows up to the interview a little damp/windswept and holding an umbrella he'd been juggling throughout the entire match. "[whistling] only one page of notes today? those tight asses up in business opps not spring for the sheltered stands?"

after the latter incidence, seeing as once an interview is confirmed and then eventually wrapped up the team's management don't really care quite as much about accommodating the press, bucky insists on bringing gale up to the club house to dry off, get a sit down and a drink, chill out for a bit. Maybe just to keep him around a little bit longer. All of the other players/management team that are milling about are a bit wide-eyed/furtive, like putting a cat amongst the pigeons. If Bucky notices the looks (he does) he's blissfully uncaring about them.

Addition: Gale's also the first person, naturally as the only journalist he'll speak to in any official capacity, to pick up on Bucky's growing boredom with midfield defence. Straight up asks him one day, on the record, what position he'd rather be playing and if he'd ever been given a shot at it.

[lunar-serpentinite]

assorted hjp headcanons

he takes to guitars like a bird to the sky. acoustic, bass, electric, you name it, he'd slay it

he eventually finds a way to force kreacher into retirement, but still lets the house elf have absolutely free reign in the former bedrooms of his beloved departed masters

harry has this habit of just picking up all the even mildly pathetic/helpless strays he finds on the streets and ends up raising them. 12 grimmauld place looks a lot like a menagerie now, and he kinda likes it

he went to luna for help on how to take care of his newfound animal roommates and thats how he befriended luna's then-penpal-turned-bf rolf scamander

eventually he moves to a quaint little cottage right outside of godrics hollow to be closer to his parents' final resting place. it's heavily warded, fidelius'd, and nobody except for ron, hermione and luna know the address

he never really did like living in a gated community / suburban neighbourhood, it reminded him too much of privet drive

the first time someone mocked him by calling him freak, harry blacked out a bit and the next thing he knew he was standing over a decently beat-up person

creatures associated w death like corvids, moths and the like are weirdly attracted to him. hell, he even found a whole vulture in his backyard once

harry is pretty apathetic about the notion of his own death post-battle of hogwarts. he told luna once that it felt like he was just idly waiting by for death to come by again

differences aside, he and pansy (my characterisation of her anyways) wld bond over being nosy, gossipy little shits

he would've said yes if cedric and cho invited him into their relationship lmao

i dont think hes necessarily a naturally jealous/possessive person. he just doesn't know how to properly have a grip on himself if the few scant ppl and stuff that he considers his are in danger of being taken away from him, born from trauma from the dursleys ofc. make him feel secure enough and he'd be chill

hes kinda shit at potions especially without proper instructions and motivation because he learned how to cook first, and potions deals w exact measurements while cooking is just measure based on vibes

he would make an excellent beekeeper. idk but he just gives me that vibe

harry's vibe checks are rarely wrong but he doesn't say anything abt em anymore bc hes used to ppl automatically assuming that hes a liar

"harry, why didnt u tell us" "you didnt ask. and if u did ask, youd probably assume im lying"

hes a bit of a hoarder lmao he has a small room in his new cottage thats just filled w his trinkets

he has absolutely no qualms in lying to everyone's faces if he thinks he's justified based on his own criteria of justice

he cant dance those fancy formal dances but at some point he will discover that he likes other types of dancing, just not in front of other people

harry would abuse the FUCK out of slang so he can say as little words as possible. his convo partner is confused but he also doesnt like them ? theyre a grownup with access to books, they can figure it out by themselves

[steviewashere]

Bringing Steddie Fic Recs Back!!!

Hey, remember like...five or six months ago when I did Steddie Fic Recs like every Tuesday? Yeah, I totally lost my grasp on 'em after some time. But, here they are again! Here's five fics that I recommend! (Recs are under the cut <3)

Heed all content warnings and tags. And, if I do end up tagging any of the authors and you want your tag removed, just tell me and I'll do so. No qualms here. Have a good time reading! <33

Oh Happy Dagger on Sunshine Bones by SolarMorrigan @solarmorrigan “Steve moves out of his parents’ house. It takes them three weeks to come looking for him. It’s the answer to a question he’s never dared to voice.” Part of a Series: Physical Intimacy Prompts Chapters: 1/1, WC: 1,287, Rating: Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply

Feels Like I’ve Been Ready For You to Come Home by BonitaBreezy “Eddie’s not really sure what to expect when he knocks on the door. Admittedly it’s kind of a risky play. He had twelve dollars and a plastic yellow chip in his pocket when he hailed the cab. Now he’s closer to five bucks, just enough to get himself a meal for the night if not a place to stay. Which is part of the reason why it was worth the risk to come here, over six months after he left.” Chapters: 1/1, WC: 2,003, Rating: Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply

Follow Your Heart by steddiecameraroll @steddiecameraroll “Eddie’s not paying attention to where he’s walking when he bumps into someone coming out of a coffee shop. “Oh,” Eddie steps back and opens his mouth to apologize, when he looks up to see who he’d crashed into. “You okay?” The man asks. Eddie tries to respond, wants to respond, opens his mouth to respond but the quirk in the man’s smile is taunting him. It’s connected to a face that could make a man weak in teh knees, in fact it’s doing just that right now.-or- Eddie keeps seeing a man he bumped into and for some reason can’t stop thinking about him.” Chapters: 1/1, WC: 2,275, Rating: Teen and Up, No Archive Warnings Apply

Sweet Boy by Ghost_ing_Temptations “Steve is used to it by now, the teasing ‘good dog’s thrown his way, the occasional ‘fetch.’ He’s not sure when the idea of him as the Party’s resident guard dog started, but he’s gotten over the swirling feeling in his stomach at those words…pretty much. Regardless, Robin is capable of convincing him of anything. So here he is hosting a Halloween get together dressed in ears, a tail and the real kicker—a collar. What could go wrong?” Part of a Series: Puppy Things Chapters: 2/2, WC: 4,173, Rating: Explicit, No Archive Warnings Apply

Things That Haven’t Happened by resakaye and t1red_gay “‘The first thing he thinks when he meets Eddie Munson is that he has beautiful eyes, and Steve’s pretty sure that makes him a terrible person.’ — Steve can’t sleep. He can’t ever sleep. He worries instead, about everything.” Chapters: 1/1, WC: 7,284, Rating: Mature No Archive Warnings Apply

[glitteringcrab]

Campaign Manager Morty

I mayyy be splitting hairs here, because Evil Morty had exactly zero qualms over killing literally every Morty in the Citadel to escape and, even worse, over having hundreds of poor, innocent, deformed Mortys whipped during his times as president (it's like he put up a nice façade but was still internally seething and had to make someone suffer)--

--but what he did to poor Campaign Manager Morty was especially heartless, and it's always very painful to see it unfold, no matter how many times I re-watch it.

It's just that Campaign Manager Morty was so good. He had integrity. He had courage. He took it upon himself to murder his evil ex-boss to protect everyone else, even though he knew it would be a death sentence. He could have tried to leave the Citadel when he found the truth about EM, to save his skin, but he decided to act instead on behalf of everyone living there. When they brought him to the air-lock chambers where he'd be executed, even though he could tell what his imminent fate was, he showed no fear of death nor regret over having to face the repercussions of (what he thought was a successful) assassination. He was okay with throwing his life away for everyone else's sake. He only wanted to explain to the people executing him, that this was a good thing, that they weren't missing anything by having their favorite candidate executed. He had to explain why he did this. He wasn't evil, please understand...!

And when he found out that his ex-boss was still alive, his face filled with panic, because at that moment he knew that EM surviving meant EM would be seen as a poor innocent victim, and this assassination attempt just made things worse.

And then he finds out that Evil Morty won the elecions and panic takes over completely, even though he had nothing to win or lose any more. Even with his last breath, he tried to warn the others.

His death was truly tragic. He was a good Morty, undeserving of that fate. It was one of the cruelest things Evil Morty has done.

I mean, EM killed everyone, but he knew this Morty personally. He set him up. And he picked him for this very cruel fate because Campaign Manager Morty had the integrity to voice his honest (and negative) opinion on the campaign's chances of success. Which, if EM listened to him and left the race, would mean Campaign Manager Morty would lose his job. Campaign Manager Morty was honest enough to say to his boss something that would result in him losing his job.

Which in turn meant that EM knew Campaign Manager would have the guts to put himself in a self-destructive situation, if it meant "doing the right thing". EM knew (or at least took an educated guess) Campaign Manager Morty would act to protect everyone else, that he was a fundamentally good person, and still, not only killed him, but set him up for a very, very cruel fate, of trying to do the good thing and having it backfire completely, of losing all hope.

And today it hit me (again, I may be splitting hairs, because it's not like EM has a moral bar anyway) if one more reason EM did this completely heartless thing was: What if Campaign Manager Morty was actively demoralizing him?

I mean... think about it. Evil Morty looked very smug in those sequences (I actually remember thinking "what a moron" at that scene XD):

He already knew what to say in the debate and how to act to gain support. He had the confidence that he could pull this off.

But he didn't know he would pull this off. In fact, he barely won ("almost close enough to trigger a re-count") and this was with him getting himself shot and gaining votes through sympathy. If he hadn't arranged for his assassination attempt, he would have lost. He must have watched the polls closely, weighing his chances and deeming them Not Good Enough at that point.

And... he had given it his all to this attempt to take over the Citadel. By making himself a public figure, he invited scrutiny on his person (whether Trenchcoat Rick was hired/manipulated/mind-controlled by EM, or honestly stalking EM we have yet to see, but it's not unlikely someone would decide to look into this particular Morty more closely). I mean, they asked him his dimension number in an interview and he deflected. They could have kept pressing into his past. This whole thing risked blowing up to his face. And even if it didn't, if he lost the election race it'd be unlikely he'd get another chance like this one. He had to give this his all, he had to make it work, no matter what.

Evil Morty, who defaults in hiding, in making himself look harmless, in disappearing in the safety of the crowd, was desperate enough to make this work that he put himself in the metaphorical frontlines, turning himself into a public figure, getting himself shot, having to put up a permanent nice act to all those people he despised, in the hopes of freeing himself one day in the distant future. He may have been confident that he could pull this thing off, but actually pulling said thing off couldn't have been easy for him.

And there was obviously no one actually supporting him, because he has no friends. Sure, other Mortys supported "him", but not really. They had no idea what he really had in store for them. They didn't want him to win, they wanted the "nice Morty Candidate" to win (duh).

Any self-doubt, any emotional wavering, any exhaustion, he had to deal with by himself. Any cheering up, any hope, any courage he needed, he also had to provide himself, so that he could escape what he viewed as the unbearably horrible fate of being trapped in the CFC.

...And on top of that, when you are giving this your all, when you are at your most desperate to make this work because your first plan already failed and you might not get another chance like this, imagine having your own campaign manager telling you "no, actually, you won't succeed. Give up. Give up. Give up."

...And he sets up his Campaign Manager to give it his all to make sure everyone else escapes a very horrible fate, only to make him watch himself fail, to force him to face the desperation he kept (unwittingly) insisting Evil Morty should resign himself to.

...I don't know if I'm overthinking this, but Evil Morty's treatment of his campaign manager suddenly feels a lot less cold and heartless and a lot more furious and vengeful.

(I will still mourn Campaign Manager Morty forever; he was the best Morty)

[fabricated-misslieness]

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.

☾⋆☆⋆☽

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 '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.

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 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.

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.”

☾⋆☆⋆☽

“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!

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.”

☾⋆☆⋆☽

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.

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.

[prof-peach]

I’m awfully sorry to be profiting off your misfortune, but as someone with a lot of tactile affection to give, I’ve always struggled with good ways to show my partner Magcargo (his name is Cornelius!) how loved he is and how happy he makes all of us! I keep his blowhole clear of debris and scrape the sides of his foot clean from hardened lava when it creeps up too high, and he seems happy enough, but tales of your woes keeping the Slugma out of your garden has also given me a whole host of new flavors for him to try, and it’s great to have ways to put in the effort and show him he’s appreciated! (And if it’s not uncouth to ask… are there maybe any specific plants you notice the intrusive Slugma like best? No grass-type Pokémon being harmed, of course!)

Oh I don’t mind, every Pokemon has its place, though many feed on plants, specially the ones I’m trying to grow, it’s never a cause for long lasting anger.

The slugma line are actually a real fun little duo, I got no qualms with them even if they chew through my seedlings.

For ease I can suggest fruit and veg that they seem to prefer, seeing as sourcing specific plant matter year round is not always so simple.

Most are not picky eaters, their nature makes them very resourceful and adaptive, and often their high body temperature means they aren’t so focused on taste, more texture.

My poor vegetable patch gets ravaged by them, but they noticeably go for the really leafy greens or higher water content plants, so cucumbers, cabbage, lettuce for sure, they aren’t adverse to the brassicas, so broccoli and kale and the likes. Mushrooms also seem to go down well, though they can be a hit or miss overall. Worth a try though. If your buddy has a sweet tooth try strawberries, never met a Magcargo that doesn’t like em, like a built in love the whole species shares. It’s kind of a weird little thing they all have in common.

Dandelion greens and hosta leaves also go down a treat but are very seasonal. I personally like to grow pea shoots for salads, but they sprout so fast and grow in all seasons, so having a few trays of them growing is a winner. If you have a small space, a window ledge is plenty to grow your own for your buddy. Takes no time for them to get going, and you and your Pokemon can enjoy them together. They only need to sprout so you don’t have to think about feeding them or doing more than putting them in all of a 3-4cm layer of dirt and watering them now and then. Super easy!

But seriously, cucumbers. I hate to admit it but last year I had to buy a few, they wiped my whole crop out almost.

[sorrowfulrosebud]

𝕮𝖔𝖓𝖙𝖊𝖓𝖙: Yandere Cassie Cage Headcannons

𝕰𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: Yandere

𝖂𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘: Yandere behaviour, take that as you will, mentions of a tracking chip, isolation, she uses buff daddy and muscle mummy to her advantage, stalking, mentions of doxing, forced relationship

༒ Cassie is one of the best yanderes to have, no questions asked.

༒ Due to her laid back nature, she’s definitely more lucid and allows her darling to roam around a bit more.

༒ She most likely found you on social media, usually a content creator for her favourite media (whether you write fanfiction or create deep-dives, it’s up to you).

༒ Since she’s so handy with tech, she was able to locate you exactly and make threats to dox you if you didn’t meet up.

༒ Sonya doesn’t really give a shit, mainly because she’s far too busy (plus she and Johnny are yanderes for each other too. Like mother, like daughter). So don’t plan to escape and beg Sonya for help because she’s just gonna drag you back and reprimand Cassie for allowing you to escape.

༒ Not a very demanding yandere, but definitely uses her status as Sonya’s daughter to her advantage. Don’t want to hug? That’s fine, but expect to be left for a few hours.

༒ Doesn’t really get angry unless you try to escape. If she catches you, she immediately knocks you out and moves you to a higher security facility and tightens your restraints.

༒ She is very chill, and very lucid. She tries talking to you about a common ground, or a shared interest. It can be easy to forget just how insane she is.

༒ Cassie loves to gossip with you. She loves explaining the context behind the gossip and encourages your engagement.

༒ While she’s not looking for marriage, she just at least wants someone to love her that’s not family.

༒ She would most likely make you wear a collar with a tracking chip in, but at least make it stylish because she may be insane, but she’s not a monster. If you tried escaping too many times however, she has no qualms burying in the chip deep into your neck.

༒ Johnny is very accepting of your relationship. Of course he’s gutted that his baby girl has a partner, but he introduces himself and even invites you to dinner with him and Sonya (kinda like a double date!). He is a very supportive dad, trying to give you the benefit of the doubt. His wife on the other hand, is the complete opposite.

“So kiddo, where did you and Cassie meet?” Johnny asks you brightly as you were forcefully sat at the dinner table. Cassie knew she didn’t have to restrain you at the table, her freakishly buff dad and military mother more than strong enough to take you down.

“We met at one of their events. They were… nearby and we decided to meet up. It was amazing,” Cassie smiled, trying to feed you some meatloaf. Johnny grinned widely.

“Aw, sounds great Cass-master! You look very happy together,” he laughed. You threw him a bitch-are-you-fucking-serious look and Sonya a very please-help-me-your-daughter-is-insane look. Sonya clears her throat.

“Cassandra, your partner has a staring problem. It’s in your best interest to discipline that out of them before it turns into something serious down the line,” she scolds.

“Ahh, lay off ‘em Sonya. It’s just young love, the kid’s obviously in their first relationship! Don’t you remember how WE were the first time we met,” Johnny grins suavely. Sonya fights back a smile.

“Ew gross, guys. At the dinner table?” Cassie cringes. You can only look on in fear and confusion.

“Anyway, may we be excused? (Y/N) and I want to play a new game I saw on social media,” Cassie asks, fingers weaving with yours. Sonya sighs.

“Yes Cassandra, you may. Don’t forget your chores later on though, and make sure your… partner are aware of the nighttime rules and how we operate at night,” she glares at you pointedly. You gulp in intimidation.

“Of course, mum. Good night, sleep well,” Cassie bids them goodnight. After giving both parents a goodnight kiss, she grabs hold of you and takes you to her room.

“Hey, catch!” She throws you a set of pyjamas as you stare at her wildly. Cassie stares back.

“Well, go on. The bathroom is there, but don’t try anything,” she turns her back to get changed too.

You wander to the bathroom and look at the pyjamas. They were soft and comfortable, with a motif of your favourite video game character. It fit perfectly, which made a shiver go down your back. You were just a gamer, how did everything transpire to this?

You totter out a few minutes later, the pyjamas hugging you tightly. Cassie looks up and smiles seeing you in the new outfit.

“Ah sick, it fits perfectly! Now, come sit down and take a controller. I haven’t played this game, but it’s multiplayer so we’re playing together,” she explained happily, patting the bed.

You obey with a shake in your step, grabbing the controller as she booted the game up. It was surprisingly easy to slip into the game; Cassie threw comments that made you laugh despite your fear. She was a great gamer, but your history proved fruitful as you ran laps around her score.

“Ah shit, it’s late. C’mon, come to bed,” Cassie says, reaching under her bed as you slowly climb into the sheets. She grabs your wrist tightly and cuffs you to the headboard, checking its tightness before kissing your neck and wrapping her arms around your waist.

How the fuck are you gonna survive this?

[softguarnere]

Hey. I'm really sorry if I came across pushy or impatient bc that was not my intention at all. Of course school is more important. I hope you like my ideas but if not that's totally fine.

Ok, so here's the first one. You have been a member of Easy co. through almost the whole war. Down in the mud with them and forced to wear the same uniform. Other than being the only girl in the company you just blended in with the guys. That is, until the end of the war came.

My request is a headcanon of the guys reaction to seeing you actually look like a girl for the first time. I mean the works; pin up hair, make up, killer dress, and heels. Also, if it's not too much trouble could you please make sure to include Doc Roe, Babe, Malarkey, and Liebgott? If you want to include any of the other boys please do. Thanks!

Hey hey! Me again sending in my second idea. Again you're the only girl in Easy co. and at some point during the war you took quite a bit of shrapnel; especially to your chest and abdomen.

This is another reaction headcanon request (of a more romantic nature) of the guys seeing all your scars for the first time during a more private moment. Again can you please include Doc Roe, Babe, Malarkey, and Liebgott? Thanks! ❤️

Since you sent two requests, I decided to combine them for the sake of ease and time.

Even though I'm a writer, I'm a historian by trade, and I've never been comfortable with the whole "unexplained sole female member of the company" because I could never stretch my imagination to come up with a proper explanation for why that would be, so I hope you don't mind that I had to change it slightly. I also don't write NSFW, so the second part had to be left pretty vague.

Because of the time crunch, these haven't been proof read or edited!

Reactions to seeing you dressed up for the first time, and later, your battle scars

Doc Roe

When a women's division was added to Easy Company, a lot of the men found themselves getting somewhat distracted

If he's being honest, then yes, Gene has spared a glance at some of the women. But he's been so busy with the constant work of being a combat medic that he hasn't noticed anyone in particular

Until the end of the war, that is

Everyone goes wild once Berchtesgaden is taken. People are looting the jewelry and clothes for themselves, for friends and family, for sweethearts back home

And you happen to take a dress and some jewelry that make you absolutely sparkle - when Gene sees you for the first time, it takes his breath away

Once he works up the courage to talk to you, the two of you take it slow

With everything that has happened and the fast pace of the war, he completely forgot that you took some shrapnel back in Bastogne

You seem so ashamed when you first show him the scars it left you with, but he thinks nothing of it

"We all got 'em," he assures you

"You don't."

"Yeah, I do." He places your hand over his heart. "You just can't see 'em."

Babe

Okay, I think he would actually take notice of you for the first time after the war

It's at an Easy reunion. He happens to look up from his drink as you walk in

He chokes, which draws Bill's attention

"Who the hell is that?"

Bill squints over at you. "Oh, I think it's (Y/L/N)."

"Who?"

"(Y/N)? From the women's division, remember?"

Babe tilts his head. "No."

"Well, she looks different outta uniform, I guess."

All this to say, Babe has taken an interest in you, and he has no qualms about telling you exactly that when he (re)introduces himself to you

You have a great time at the reunion, and although you and Babe keep in touch and become close, he's a little shocked to realize how many things he didn't know about you

Like about the scars that the war left you with

You're shy, almost timid, when you show him, even though you trust him by now

"I had no idea," he admits.

"I don't usually bring it up," you hesitate before continuing. "It, uh - some guys haven't liked it. It makes them uncomfortable."

Something about the way you say it is so open and honest that Babe can't help the rush of emotion that comes over him. He grabs your hand and squeezes it tight

"Then doll, they weren't good enough for you."

Malarkey

Unlike the others, he knows you got hit, because he was there

But it's not something that he thinks about. He's busy trying to forget the war, after all

And as the war draws to a close, he gets so used to seeing you in your Ike jacket and thinking about how it makes you look like some sort of goddess of war that it's distracting

It's not until your last night in Berchtesgaden, when your relationship becomes official, that he learns about the scars the shrapnel left you with

"Does it hurt?" he asks, immediately remembering that awful day back in Holland when he saw you go down as the shrapnel struck you.

"No." You only smirk. "You should see the other guy."

He knew there was a reason that he liked you so much.

Liebgott

Listen, he's such a flirt that I'm convinced he noticed you before and has been subtly throwing flirtations your way throughout the war

But once he sees you at the war's end in a dress and some bright red lipstick that you stole? WOW - you're a knock-out. The pin-ups back in the States have nothing on you, and he simply can't wait another second to make a move

"Hiya, your Highness." He kisses the back of your hand and gives you a deep bow. "My name is Joe. Have we met before?"

All the other women would be giggling while watching the interaction. You can only roll your eyes, trying to hide the heat rushing to your cheeks.

"Maybe once . . . in your dreams."

Joe has always thought you were pretty, and he'll think your gorgeous no matter what

Seeing your scars has a different effect on him.

The anger that would course through him at the realization that the war left its mark on you in the most literal sense? Unmatched.

"Joey," you have to tell him, hooking his chin with a finger and guiding his gaze back up to your eyes. "If it makes you uncomfortable I can - "

"No." He grabs your hands. "Sorry, doll. I didn't mean to make you self-conscious. I just - "

"I know," you assure him. "No use being angry now, though. The damage is done."

But he doesn't want you to see it as damage. And slowly, he comes to see it as character instead; one more piece of you that makes you who you are - and reminds him of why he fights.

[taptrial2]

(CW INSTITUTIONAL ABUSE AND MEDICAL TRAUMA)

also let me tell you about how vlad and danny escaped the pentagon in my special au. let me tell you about it. (you are chained to a chair in a dark interrogation room) BUT FIRST i need to explain their daily routine while they're there

morning routine is almost always the same. a scientist shows up at their door at 8am sharp and claps and goes ALRIGHT BOYS UP AND AT EM. and says misc things like "both feet on the floor" "do you want breakfast or what". their facility was designed with just one half-ghost in mind, so the lads both sleep in the same bed (PLATONIC). the excuse the scientists make to each other is that they "prefer cohabbing" but it was just to save budget because their bedroom (or more accurately, cell) is one of the most well-armored places in their entire wing and it'd be too expensive to build another one.

they have power suppressing cuffs on their wrists and ankles all hours of the day, controlled via remote or panel depending on where they are in the building. they can be allowed partial access to their powers incrementally, or all at once if they're sure their boys are contained and it won't cause issues. the cuffs can also force morphs, but this isn't necessary unless they're unconscious (usually used during surgeries)- they both respond to "ghost" (accompanied by a snap as to not get triggered during conversation) or "human" (snap) commands reflexively. (this detail is important for the narrative)

ANYWAY after they get up they are bathed. they don't bathe themselves, brush their own teeth, dress themselves, or change their own bandages - all of it is done by staff. a lot of this protocol is left over from when vlad was a teenager and bothered to fight back. one of the head scientists only has three fingers on his right hand from a dental examination he did on plasmius in the 80s. by the time danny is 14, vlad hits the 10 year anniversary of a perfect record... he just doesn't want to put the boy in danger because of anything he did. he had no such qualms about that when he was alone.

after that they have breakfast. if they've been good (they're usually good), they get real food made by a professional chef with a menu formulated by an on-staff nutrition specialist. if they've been bad, they get the nutrient sludge. it tastes like raw coffee grounds and has the texture of improperly set gelatin. they would prefer to not eat the sludge. if they've been VERY bad, food is withheld.

after this, their days vary drastically. the only consistent things are lunchtime, dinnertime, and bedtime; everything else varies. activities include: exercising their human halves in the gym, training their ghost halves in the training facility (anything from sparring to timed obstacle courses and such), getting to relax in the rec room at some point (a few kids' toys, a couch that's hard as a rock, one blanket, a handful of books that they've read over and over, no tv), getting blood or ectoplasm drawn, having in-depth medical exams done, going into surgery (very frequent and usually without being told what will be done to them or how long they'll be in surgery), and being experimented on in ways both benign and violent.

the facility has no windows. neither of them have seen the sun or the stars. they were asleep as babies being carried out to the unmarked government vehicles to take them away. danny has read the one book they have on astronomy a thousand times over, its pages are falling out and its sleeve worn horribly. they don't dare dream of outside because it's too painful to think about. days bleed into one another. sometimes it feels like months between days, sometimes they think it was christmas last week until they learn it's august.

one day in june, shortly after the ten year mark of vlad's perfect record, it's time for the comprehensive vivisections again. someone makes a mistake transferring them to the prep room. their cuffs fall off of their limbs harmlessly. when they realize their opportunity, they sieze it - vlad phases two people's lungs out of their bodies, one person per hand, and as they fall to the ground he and danny make a break for it. they steal an ID card off of some scientist or another and use it to open the ghostproof door even as security is cracking down and alarms are blaring and danny has to scream someone's head off of their body, the red paste of them sloughing to the floor. the rest of the building isn't ghostproofed. danny clings to vlad's back as he flies up and away, not knowing where he's headed but just Away. they phase the blood off of them and it splatters onto the pavement of washington dc.

they only stop once they hit colorado. they collapse into the grass and revert back into human form, still in hospital gowns and matching plastic boots. only now is the adrenaline starting to subside. danny rolls over and gasps. vlad is still panting, still in disbelief, and he starts to fist at the grass below him before danny taps his shoulder and whispers "look." vlad turns his head and sees the sky. stars. they lay there under the sky, real trees rustling in the breeze, real grass under their backs, a few bugs starting to explore their skin, and they're quiet. for a long time they say nothing. and then they start laughing and they embrace each other and they say we're alive! we're free! we're alive and we're free!!! we're outside!!! they're giddy, they're crying, they're laughing, and they're holding each other close.

when they wake up the next day they go to the town nearby and it turns out that they've got a lot to learn about the outside world. two disheveled guys who smell like death and look like they just walked out of the emergency room asking strangers how to get money turns out to be offputting and strange to other people.

[preciouslittlecreature]

Some general Nikolai headcanons because why not! I've got so many more, but I'll try to keep this post short. As always, please let me know if anything posted is harmful, and have a wonderful day!

Can operate many different types of vehicles and holds licenses for many in areas he frequents or that are strategic or significant to any causes he is a part of. No, they are not obtained legally (that'd be too much time and work)

I don't know enough about them to say which one specifically tops them all, but helicopters are his favorite vehicle. His helis are his babies, and he treats them well.

I can't see him liking vodka. He'll drink it if it benefits him (i.e., gaining approval from potential clients, informants, etc.), but beyond that, he avoids it.

Speaking of alcohol, he keeps a high tolerance. Not because he's Russian (though, from what I understand, the drinking culture there may contribute to that), but because it's beneficial to him. It's not uncommon for people to get others drunk, so it's easier to attack or manipulate them. Since it's not always possible to skip a drink, tolerance is the next best thing.

Hairy. I don't have anything else to add to that

Does not have a 6 pack or hard pecs or anything like that. Im sorry, but it's just not something I can see, especially since I learned it's often obtained through malnutrion, dehydration, or like... steriods. Also, I love fat. I want a man with a bit of a belly and soft pecs.

Trains a lot; even if he usually isn't involved directly in a fight, that can quickly change. Plus, it helps him destress.

Gives incredible hugs. Idk what else to add. He just knows how to read people well enough to adjust to their hug preferences. Only gives em out to people he truly cares about, though.

Absolutely a terrifying force; you do not want to be his enemy. The ends often justify the means to him and that often leads to morally fucked up situations. I mean, he literally abducted a man's wife and child. He has no qualms about occasionally being the bad guy and doesn't lose much, if any, sleep over it.(This is pretty much canon, but I still wanted to add my own thoughts to it)

If you've got any of your own, please feel free to share em! And let me know if you want any more; I've also got relationship ones if anyone wants <3

[soilaluna]

— i gave you all that i had (but it wasn’t enough). . bonten!mikey ft. f!reader . heavy angst, alcoholism, sexual themes, manga spoilers, toxic relationship . 2.2k

happy hour. you give up on trying to mitigate your misery with endless tv zapping and stop off at a local bar near your place. the offered beverage is bland but the prices are modest enough to let you afford your discontent every time you require it.

it's all you've known for the past year —a dreary round of eating, working, getting wasted, and trying to sleep. an exhausting routine that has stripped you of your essence and transmuted you into nothing but an empty shell. 

so, like most nights, at one o'clock you sit on the bar stool with your figure slumped against the counter.

you stopped cracking peanuts half an hour ago and fully devoted yourself to getting as drunk as possible (appetizers can't sweep away your sorrows but ten glasses of cheap bourbon will).

you take your fifth bourbon in one smooth shot and ask for another. the bartender mumbles something you can't quite fully grasp because you're too busy grousing about the lights above you (how the fuck do they get more blinding with each drink you down?)

upset, you groan and hide your face between your arms, slapping your forehead against the wooden surface. 

then, “bad night?” a velvety voice caresses your ears. 

you peek at the owner with a side glance. he wears a tight-lip smile and you can't help but mimic it. his’ is seductive, yours is mocking.

fool.

you make your first assumption of the night: he isn’t from around. 

if he were, he’d know that the party’s always over once you arrive. he’d know he’s better off anywhere else than by your side cause you’re more of a nuisance than a blessing. 

you think of telling him to fuck off for a merciful second but... he's there. right next to you. attractive, warm, and inviting and you can’t resist the temptation of finding out just how far can you push things this time. 

cause you’re so fucking lonely.

so you straighten your back and try not to slur as you ask, "aren't you going to invite me for a drink?"

your eagerness doesn't go unnoticed as the stranger chuckles. his eyes rest briefly on your empty glass. or your cleavage (you don’t really care enough to notice). 

"you want more, baby?"

you almost grimace at the pet name. he’s so horribly predictable but you're desperate enough to let it slide.

instead, you flaunt a pleasant smile. pretty and submissive, they like you better like that. "yes, please".

his lips shift upwards into a victorious grin. he immediately lifts two fingers toward the barman.

you’re going to fuck him, you think. somewhere not far from there. maybe the back of your car. maybe in a sketchy, cheap, and dirty motel room. the only question is how you’ll get there. if you’re lucky enough to get there.

but you’re not a lucky girl (when have you been, honestly?)

“she’s fine. you can fuck off, man.” 

ah, just in time.

you almost laugh at his revolting punctuality. flirty-guy next to you isn't so diverted by the sudden ill-mannered guest.

"what did you say?" he counters, taking a stand. 

you rest your chin on the heel of your palm and sigh. you feel your headache intensify. the barman stops and watches the scene unfold, face shadowed with qualm as he holds two glasses full of liquor in his hands. 

you throw a hushed ‘pst’ in his direction and he glances at you. you nod at the glasses and wave your pointer finger back and forth. ‘keep ‘em coming’. so he slides one of them over the counter to your hand.

from the corner of your eye, you see sanzu open his vest and flash his gun to the guy.

the macho staring contest ends right there.

defeated, the man in front of him slaps a couple of bills over the counter and bids goodbye once he receives the message. he throws a look at you over his shoulder as he walks away — half-disgusted, half-ashamed. ‘sorry’ you want to yell but it’s not your fault that things turned out this way (not entirely, anyways). 

you're quick to bury your guilty feelings in your drink before reaching for the other one. you're willing to down it too but your new pink-haired companion beat you to it.

“that’s enough,” he orders as he snatches the glass from you. a few drops of alcohol manage to fall on your hand and you quickly pick them up with your tongue like a wretched, thirsty stray.

"party pooper," you grumble, rolling your eyes.

you look to your right, avoiding sanzu's gaze. you expect to see at least someone else seated beside you (a replacement, hopefully, for guy number one) but find no one, instead. then, you look a little further —and there's not a single soul in sight. music no longer blasts through the speakers.

it’s still dirty, and messy but the place is fucking dead.

you turn abruptly to sanzu and raise an eyebrow in question. sanzu throws a half-smirk in your direction. an answer. one that you pick up immediately and abhor.

shit.

you try to dart but your legs get all tangled and you trip (maybe it was the alcohol, maybe your desperation kicking in). sanzu is quick to grab your arm, steadies you, and throws you back to the stool as if you were just a rag doll.

"tch, he already knows you're here so stay put, bitch," he barks.

sanzu despises you. he's never told you explicitly so but he isn't hard to read: he's mikey's left hand and yet, far too often, he's degraded to playing babysitter.

and he's aware that him being mikey's most trusted man has everything to do with him being in charge of you. he's supposed to be ¿honored? but working as a cock-blocker must be a lot less fun than ramming a gun into someone’s head, you suppose. 

he hates you.

he hates your power (that you didn't ask for).

and he hates what you represent (you don't blame him, you hate yourself too).

your head starts pounding. the alcohol is starting to wear off too soon. you search for the barman cause there's no way you're doing this not fully wrecked (when was the last time you did something sober anyways?), but he's nowhere to be seen.

and sanzu, who was just a second ago by your side, has disappeared like a shadow in the night.

a tragic revelation.

hell’s bells, irony blows.

your antagonist is standing at the other end of the bar.

how long did it take him to get there? how long has he been staring at you in silence? 

you turn your head to the front. you try to ignore him. you really do. but his eyes are screaming at you. you feel pressure on your head (and one on your heart) and you can't help but scoff and inquire:

"so you're just going to observe me in silence like some fucking creep?" you ask, staring straight ahead.

mikey utters no word as he saunters toward you. his heavy boots echo in the now empty place (he’s used to this, bringing death to where there used to be life).

"at this rate, you'll leave me friendless," you bleat, when he doesn't answer.

then, he deadpans: "men like him are not your friends."

a breathless chuckle leaves your lips, "oh and you are?"

you feel him take a sit next to you. against your better judgment, you turn your head and look at him.

you really take a look at him this time.

the tips of his hair brush his shoulders, and the dark circles that used to ring his eyes have dissipated. he doesn’t smell anymore like stale cigarettes and yesterday’s beer. he's no longer the spitting image of his dead half-brother.

he looks better.

and that would've lit a flame of hope inside your chest if you didn't know that picture by memory.

he's always managed to look fine. so as long as he didn't allow a single glimpse of his slowly-rotting core —not even to you.

"i do care about you," mikey assures, not even a little sheepish.

(you think he's full of bullshit).

"you have a funny way of showing it."

"you know that—"

"yeah, yeah. it's better like this, i'm safer. blah, blah, blah," you spit.

you heard it all before. and time may pass but his speech remains the same as on day one.

he left you, but he didn't really leave you behind. he uses and abuses his power to find you. bribing third parties, emptying bars at his will.

(oh, how you wish to return to the old days when the most harmful thing he did was to throw stones at random thugs).

his so-called need to protect is suffocating and demeaning.

mikey's girl.

mikey's girl.

mikey's girl.

they whisper so when sanzu —or whoever fits for the job— spooks away every suitor who approaches you.

you're isolated. lonely. and still deeply in love with the major source of your pain.

your chin wobbles and you take a deep breath before you speak again, "i'm fucking exhausted, mikey. you say you’re protecting but look at me!” you choke on your words. your hands collide flat against your chest. rage and aching mix all together in your body.

your pointer finger shakes in the air as you lift towards him, “and this is not on me. i'm a wreck but this... this is you. it's you not letting me go. i-it’s you glued to me like a fucking shadow. you say you love me but you're destroying me."

he sits there immobile for a beat too long. and you think, this is it. he's finally given up (finally, mercy).

your suffering won't end here but you have to start somewhere.

anywhere.

you dare to lift yourself from the chair with hope. you try to walk away but he catches you by the arm and presses you against his body. you trash in his arms but, ultimately, it’s impossible to fight him. you can’t resist the warmth of his skin that bleeds through his shirt, and you can’t dismiss his hushed sorry’s against your ear as he tries with all his strength to keep you by his side. you see his effort, you sense his desperation and he seems to share your anguish.

so you stay.

because maybe, just maybe... “let’s go home.” you beg in a whisper over his neck. your hands are gripped together tightly behind his back. you don’t want to let go. you won’t let go just yet.

mikey presses his nose against the top of your head and sighs. he doesn't answer. he gifts you a peck, softly nods, and takes your hand.

you follow him in silence, your eyes fixed on your linked palms. it’s been a while —far too long. and though memories splash your foggy mind, his touch feels fresh —no, not fresh, foreign (he's not your mikey, hasn't been in a while) (but you're so wretched that you'll accept him as he comes, even if it destroys you).

he directs you to his car, opens the door, and lets you in. you want to say something more once he settles into the pilot’s seat but you find yourself too exhausted and tense to find the words.

(mikey chooses to stay silent as well).

you don't need to remind him of the way back home. he's driven down the same road hundreds of times. and you remember it well: the wind in your hair, your arms around his core, hands flat against his chest. velocity, romance —invincibility. you were infinite. untouchable.

he promised no one would hurt you as long as you stayed by his side.

(he never told you he was the only one allowed to destroy you).

"don't leave me," you mutter, once you feel the car stop.

"don't leave me," you beg while he carries you inside your apartment.

the pillow under you is chilly. you reach out to him, and your hand grazes his skin. "please, don't leave me."

it's your last attempt. you don't care if he stays for pity, you don't mind if he lies once again. but you need him by your side, you should've never parted ways. you belonged to each other. you've always had.

mikey's stiff back is all you see.

you wait.

it could've been seconds, it could've been minutes. it felt like an eternity. but mikey finally breathes, "ok".

the weight of the world dissapears from your shoulders.

mikey lays down next to you and you welcome him into your arms. his head rests over your chest, and his arm goes around your stomach.

peace. you're both at peace, at last.

half an hour ago, this scenario seemed impossible. and now you were embracing each other, reminiscing when you were nothing but two teenagers in love.

you wish you could go back to those times.

you once promised you were going to marry him.

yet all you've done is try to save the last bits of the sano manjiro you once knew.

"will you stay with me forever?" he asks. his voice pierces your skin.

you don't even think your answer, "of course i will."

[mancer-in-the-abbey]

I am currently in a roommate situation where I am the only one that can kill the bugs. Which is slightly a problem when we’re in the middle of a fruit fly infestation. But it does make me wonder who is who among the ghouls on the bug killing scale. Here goes:

Dewdrop: kills the bugs with practiced aim and his sandal. No hesitation. No mercy. The go-to bug killer.

Aether: you would think he’d at least be neutral on bugs but no. Absolutely hates them. If he doesn’t get to be unchained from gravity then neither should these heathens and they ESPECIALLY shouldn’t be getting anywhere near his face. Calls Dew to handle the bugs.

Mountain: grabs the bug with his bare hands and eats it. This hasn’t gone badly for him yet, miraculously.

Rain: technically CAN kill the bugs but he’s shaking the entire time, iron gripping a rolled up newspaper. They’re just so fast, why are they so fucking fast, HE’S supposed to be the fast one, what the FUCK-

Swiss: now HE’S the weird one that likes to catch the flies alive and escort them out the nearest window. Gets him laughed at sometimes but he’s the one the rest of the pack goes to when anything too big and scary comes in so really who’s laughing now?

Phantom: trying so very hard to be brave but he’s firmly in Aether’s camp of “Nothing Should Move Like That Ever, Actually.” Dew’s still trying to teach him how to kill ‘em fast enough that the dread doesn’t set in lmao

Cirrus: surprisingly has a real fear of flies. Their buzzing reminds her too much of some of the more… predatory demons back in the pit. Not fond of other creepy crawlers either but she’s better at killing those when she has to.

Sunshine: watched Mountain eat a bug. Tried to do the same when one bug she didn’t recognize had the whole pack panicking. It was. A wasp. Needless to say she leaves the bug eating to the professional now. And the killing. She’s good. For like the next century at least.

Cumulus: the ghoulette that has the least qualms with killing bugs. Can only handle up to a certain threshold of bug though. If it’s bigger than, say, a quarter? She’s out. Hates roaches with a passion.

Aurora: LOVES bugs. Will sit and watch them fly or crawl around all damn day if allowed. Gets Swiss to deal with the bugs before anyone else can catch wise.

[yakool-foolio]

Has anyone else thought about the reason why Swank left Yuma alone when Yakou stepped in to intervene? In any normal case, Swank would've arrested Yuma since he was framed as the arsonist, along with the hitman now laying dead in the train with the rest of the bodies. Yakou getting involved wouldn't have changed that since he'd have no idea that Yuma was innocent and the hitman disguised as Zilch. At first we thought that maybe Yakou bribed Swank with some cash behind the scenes. Mitsume's words of advice to 'play both sides' must've meant something to him, after all. But we know better now.

The Anonymous letter changes everything. Yakou is fully aware that the real Zilch was killed and replaced by Yomi's personal hitman. Swank was most likely informed by Yomi of Yakou's knowledge. Yomi wanted Yakou alive and uninterrupted so that he could continue with his revenge plan to murder Huesca. So when Yakou confronted Swank, the peacekeepers had no choice but to give Yuma up to him. The surviving detectives would all end up being a part of the ploy, anyway.

Same can be said with Guillaume and Dominic. They should've held no qualms with beating the detectives to a pulp, especially one framed as a terrorist (poor Yuma doesn't get any breaks). But low and behold, once Yakou floats in on his boat, the counter-terrorist duo skid their beat-em-up session to a halt. Obviously it's not the only reason why Guillaume and Dominic stopped what they were doing, but you'd think they'd fight a little harder to damn Yuma as the terrorist. He did place the bombs. But nope! If Yakou's involved, the peacekeepers can't lay a finger on any of the detectives.

And man, isn't it perfect timing for Yomi and Martina to have rode in on their motorcycle right as Seth ordered to arrest Yuma, Halara, and Yakou?

Yomi manipulated the other peacekeepers to shape everything into his malignant plot so much more than we could've imagined.