#writing asl

[creator-of-calm-queer-chaos]

A Question about how to write a deaf character: How to write grammar when the character is signing?

Hello! 

Yet again, I have a question about how to write about a character from a group I am not part of. This time, I have a more specific question. 

When characters are signing in ASL, how do I write the grammar in English? 

I read a lot about writing about Deaf characters, but not many of them covered the grammar. For example, if the character was talking in English, I would write them saying ‘how old are you’ or ‘what is your age.’ However, I know ASL grammar is very different - it would directly translate as ‘your age what?’ 

Even though I’ve translated it to English to write, is it okay to translate the grammar as well? Even if the character is signing? 

I would really appreciate it if anyone had any advice, or if anyone knew of a link/video where someone did. 

Have a great day! 

Temy

[albaqae]

@ ALL RISE FANS THAT MAKE COMICS & STORIES

So I’ve noticed that in this fandom it’s common to include Deaf/ASL-using-characters into stories, which is honestly AMAZING and makes me SO HAPPY TO SEE, but many of us aren’t deaf we rely on resources, therefore:

My ASL teacher gave us this website cause it’s updates constantly (ASL evolves lots) and it’s a lot more accurate and reliable than just google :))

To work it- type the word, and a word bank will pull up, click on the term u want and a video/description of the sign and word will appear!!!

It’s rlly simple and has most words and if it doesn’t it’s bc it’s finger spelled probs!!!!

If u want more in-depth good grammar, search up “five parameters ASL”, “glossing in ASL” and watch a few videos to see “how sentence structure differs in ASL”

As always, remember it’s ok to make mistakes/notice a mistake, just be mindful and kind :D most of us aren’t out for malice and if someone is it’ll probs be very obv 😭

Happy Creating!!

Edit: A THANK U SO MUCH FOR THE REBLOGS :)) if anyone ever needs any help drop a comment or look at other reblogs!! There’s lot of other resources/tips there!!!

[dannyphannypack]

Writing ASL: Techniques to Write Signed Dialogue

Hey, guys! I've been reading a lot of DC Batfamily fanfiction lately, and in doing so I realized how little I see of ASL being represented in written text (love you, Cass!). I wanted to briefly talk about tactics to writing American Sign Language (ASL), and ways that these techniques can help improve your writing in more general contexts!

SOME THINGS BEFORE WE GET STARTED

I will be discussing everything in terms of ASL! If you have a character who uses Chinese Sign Language or even British Sign Language, the same rules will not necessarily apply! Don't be afraid to do some extra research on them.

Do not let this dissuade you from writing a character who signs ASL! This is by no means the end-all be-all to writing ASL dialogue, and I do not intend this post to insinuate that by writing ASL the same way you write English you are deeply offending the Deaf community. If this is something you're interested in though, I highly recommend experimenting with the way you write it! Above all, have fun with your writing.

Related to 2nd rule, but still very important: not everyone will agree that sign language should be treated/written any differently than English. This is a totally valid and understandable stance to take! I do not hope to invalidate this stance by making this post, but rather to introduce an interested audience to how ASL operates in the modern world, and how that can be translated into text.

ADDRESSING SOME MISCONCEPTIONS

ASL is the same as English, just with gestures instead of words.

Actually, no! There is a language that exists that is like that: it's called Signing Exact English, and it's an artificial language; i.e., it did not come about naturally. All languages came from a need to communicate with others, and ASL is no different! It is a language all on it's own, and there is no perfect 1:1 way to translate it to English, just as any spoken language.

2. But everyone who signs ASL knows how to read English, don't they?

No, actually! Because it's a completely different language, people who sign ASL and read English can be considered bilingual: they now know two languages. In fact, fingerspelling a word to a Deaf person in search for the correct sign does not usually work, and is far from the preferred method of conversing with Deaf people.

3. Because ASL does not use as many signs as we do words to articulate a point, it must be an inferior language.

Nope! ASL utilizes 5 complex parameters in order to conversate with others: hand shape, palm orientation, movement, location, and expression. English relies on words to get these points across: while we may say "He's very cute," ASL will sign, "He cute!" with repeated hand movement and an exaggerated facial expression to do what the "very" accomplishes in the English version: add emphasis. Using only ASL gloss can seem infantilizing because words are unable to portray what the other four parameters are doing in a signed sentence.

4. Being deaf is just a medical disability. There's nothing more to it.

Fun fact: there is a difference between being deaf and being Deaf. You just said the same thing twice? But I didn't! To be deaf with a lowercase 'd' is to be unable to hear, while being Deaf with an uppercase is to be heavily involved in the Deaf community and culture. Deaf people are often born deaf, or they become deaf at a young age. Because of this, they attend schools for the Deaf, where they are immersed in an entirely different culture from our own. While your family may mourn the loss of your grandfather's hearing, Deaf parents often celebrate discovering that their newborn is also deaf; they get to share and enjoy their unique culture with their loved one, which is a wonderful thing!

YOU MENTIONED ASL GLOSS. WHAT IS THAT?

ASL gloss is the written approximation of ASL, using English words as "labels" for each sign. ASL IS NOT A WRITTEN LANGUAGE, so this is not the correct way to write it (there is no correct way!): rather, it is a tool used most commonly in classrooms to help students remember signs, and to help with sentence structure.

IF THERE'S NO CORRECT WAY TO WRITE IN ASL, THEN HOW DO I DO IT?

A most astute observation! The short answer: it's up to you. There is no right or wrong way to do it. The longer answer? Researching the culture and history, understanding sign structure, and experimenting with description of the 5 parameters are all fun ways you can take your ASL dialogue to the next level. Here are 3 easy ways you can utilize immediately to make dialogue more similar to the way your character is signing:

Sign languages are never as wordy as spoken ones. Here's an example: "Sign languages are never wordy. Spoken? Wordy." Experiment with how much you can get rid of without the meaning of the sentence being lost (and without making ASL sound goo-goo-ga-ga-y; that is to say, infantilizing).

Emotion is your friend. ASL is a very emotive language! If we were to take that sentence and get rid of the unnecessary, we could get something like "ASL emotive!" The way we add emphasis is by increasing the hand motion, opening the mouth, and maybe even moving the eyebrows. It can be rather intuitive: if you mean to say very easy, you would sign EASY in a flippant manner; if you mean to say so handsome, you would sign handsome and open your mouth or fan your face as if you were hot. Think about a game of Charades: how do you move your mouth and eyebrows to "act out" the word? How are you moving your body as your teammates get closer? There are grammar rules you can certainly look up if you would like to be more technical, too, but this is a good place to start!

Practice describing gestures and action. ASL utilizes three dimensional space in a lot of fun and interesting ways. Even without knowing what a specific sign is, describing body language can be a big help in deciphering the "mood" of a sentence. Are they signing fluidly (calm) or sharply (angry)? Are their signs big (excited) or small (timid)? Are they signing rushedly (impatient) or slowly? Messily (sad) or pointedly (annoyed)? Consider what you can make come across without directly addressing it in dialogue! Something ese about ASL is that English speakers who are learning it tend to think the speakers a little nosy: they are more than able to pick up on the unsaid, and they aren't afraid to ask about it.

Above all, don't be afraid to ask questions, do research or accept advice! New languages can be big and scary things, but don't let that make you shy away. Again, there is nothing wrong with deciding to write ASL the same as you write your English. I've personally found that experimenting with ASL dialogue in stories has aided me in becoming more aware of how to describe everything, from sappy emotional moments to action-packed fighting scenes. Writing ASL has helped me think about new ways to improve my description in more everyday contexts, and I hope it can be a big help to you as well, both in learning about Deaf culture and in pursuing your future writing endeavors. :)

P.S: I am quite literally only dipping my toes into the language and culture. I cannot emphasize how important it is to do your own research if it's someting you're interested in!

P.P.S: I want to apologize for my earlier P.S! What I meant by “I am … dipping my toes into the language and culture” was in direct regards to the post; what I should have said is “this post is only dipping its toes into the language and culture.” While I am not Deaf myself, I am a sophomore in college minoring in ASL and Deaf Culture, and I am steadily losing my hearing. Of course, that does not make me an authority figure on the topic, which is why I strongly encourage you to do your own research, ask your own questions, and consult any Deaf friends, family, or online peers you may have.

[lifeinacartoonart]

CREATING AUTHENTIC DEAF AND HARD OF HEARING CHARACTERS: A WRITER'S JOURNAL

Introduction

Creating authentic characters in your writing is essential for engaging storytelling, and this includes characters who are deaf or hard of hearing. To craft a character that accurately represents this community, it's crucial to do your research, gain a deep understanding of their experiences, and portray them with sensitivity and respect. In this journal, we'll explore how to write a deaf or hard-of-hearing character, including key information and preparation steps.

Understanding Deaf and Hard-of-Hearing Characters

Research: Start by researching deaf and hard-of-hearing individuals' experiences, challenges, and culture. Read books, articles, and personal stories, and watch documentaries or interviews featuring members of the Deaf community.

Consult with Experts: Reach out to members of the Deaf community or experts in Deaf studies to gain insights into their experiences. They can provide invaluable guidance and help you avoid common misconceptions.

Diversity Within the Community: Understand that the Deaf and hard-of-hearing communities are diverse. Some individuals communicate using sign language, while others rely on lip-reading, cochlear implants, or hearing aids. Be aware of these differences when creating your character.

Character Development

Backstory and Identity: Consider your character's background. Were they born deaf, or did they become deaf later in life? How do they identify within the Deaf community? Understanding their identity and experiences will shape their character.

Language and Communication: Decide how your character communicates. Are they fluent in sign language, or do they primarily rely on lip-reading and spoken language? Their communication style will influence their interactions with other characters.

Cultural Awareness: Explore the cultural aspects of the Deaf community. Understand the importance of Deaf culture, including its history, art, and values. Incorporate these elements into your character's life when relevant.

Writing Tips

Dialogue and Communication: When writing dialogue for a deaf or hard-of-hearing character, be mindful of their unique communication style. Use visual cues, body language, and facial expressions to convey emotions and context.

Access to Information: Consider the challenges your character may face in accessing information. This could involve issues with closed captioning, subtitles, or accommodations in educational or work settings.

Social Interactions: Depict social interactions realistically. Show how your character navigates conversations, group dynamics, and social events within their community and with hearing individuals.

Preparation

Sensitivity Readers: Consider hiring sensitivity readers who are part of the Deaf or hard-of-hearing community to review your work and provide feedback. Their insights can help you avoid stereotypes and inaccuracies.

Learn Sign Language: If your character uses sign language, take the time to learn at least basic signs. This will not only enrich your writing but also demonstrate your commitment to accuracy.

Beta Readers: Seek feedback from a diverse group of beta readers who can assess the authenticity of your character and offer constructive criticism.

Engage with the Community: Attend Deaf community events, workshops, or online forums to immerse yourself in the culture and better understand the perspectives and experiences of deaf and hard-of-hearing individuals.

Creating a deaf or hard-of-hearing character that resonates with readers requires dedication, empathy, and thorough research. By following these steps and embracing the rich culture and diversity of the Deaf community, you can create a character that is not only authentic but also promotes understanding and inclusivity in your writing. In addition, when writing dialogue for your deaf or hard-of-hearing character, remember:

It's important to clarify why, when writing dialogue for a deaf character, you should continue to use structured English grammar and not sign language structured grammar.

Maintaining Structured English Grammar:

Readability: Writing in structured English grammar ensures that the text remains accessible and comprehensible to all readers, including those who may not be familiar with sign language or Deaf culture. It avoids potential confusion that could arise from using sign language grammar in written text.

Universal Understanding: English is a global language, and adhering to its grammar rules allows for a wider audience to understand and engage with your story. Sign language grammar varies between different sign languages, making it less universally applicable in written form.

Respect for the Medium: While sign language is a rich and expressive mode of communication, it is primarily a visual and gestural language. Attempting to replicate sign language grammar in written text can be cumbersome and may not fully capture the nuances of sign language communication.

Balance of Realism and Readability: Striking a balance between authenticity and readability is crucial in storytelling. Maintaining structured English grammar while depicting a deaf character's interactions helps convey the character's experience without compromising the reader's ability to follow the narrative.

As an illustration, consider the following text: Dialogues with Descriptive Sign Language:

Sarah greeted John with a warm smile, her hands moving gracefully as she signed, "Hi, how are you?"

John returned the greeting in sign language, his expressions mirroring his words. "I'm good, thanks. Did you see the new movie?"

Sarah's eyes lit up as she signed back enthusiastically, "Yes, I loved it!"

In summary, using structured English grammar when writing dialogue for a deaf character is a practical and respectful choice that ensures your writing remains inclusive and accessible to a broad audience while still authentically representing the character's identity and experiences.

Furthermore, it's essential to avoid creating a character who is overly perfect or one-dimensional. In real life, we understand that everyone has imperfections and complexities, regardless of whether they are deaf or hard of hearing. Therefore, it's entirely acceptable to depict your character as a villain with a hearing issue if that aligns with your storytelling goals.

[hexiewrites]

I’ve been thinking a lot about late-deafened Steve, and what that actually would have looked like. Because the thing is: I love this head cannon. Boy got bashed around so much, ESPECIALLY on his left side, theres no way he didn’t come out of that with some long term damage. And I’ve been thinking about what that means for him, when his hearing starts to go, and how isolating that would be.

Except. Then I keep thinking about Robin.

Give me child-of-Deaf-adults Robin. Robin whose parents met at Gallaudet. Who were confused and upset when the doctor said, relief clear on his face, oh thank god, how lucky, your baby is normal, she can HEAR. Robin who grows up a in a Deaf home with a Deaf family. Who learns ASL before she learns English. Who never learns to be quiet because at home it doesn’t matter, so she can blast trumpet all day long to no complaints, and forever feels uncomfortable in places where she has to try to keep it down. Robin who grows up learning ASL and English and thrives, loves the way her brain works when it’s parsing languages, and starts teaching herself French and Spanish too, blasting day time Spanish soap operas constantly whenever she’s at home, shouting along with the screen. Robin who interprets for her parents, taking on burdens no seven year old should when she’s the one who has to tell her mom the cancers back. Robin who, four years later, gets to tell her dad that the surgery worked. The cancers gone. Moms gonna be ok. Robin who, at eleven, doesn’t know the sign for remission but she signs CANCER-one hand eating at the other like the disease that almost took her Mom-and signs FINISH, signs NONE, signs MOM-OKAY, MOM-SAFE, and is glad her dad can’t hear how loud her sobs are because even she’s embarrassed at the noises she’s making. 

Robin who doesn’t quite fit at home, the loud little girl in the odd quiet house (not that her house is ever quiet: if you dont realize you’re making noise you don’t do anything to tamper it), and who doesn’t quite fit at school, when she shows up in kindergarten signing instead of speaking and all the other kids make fun of her for years, call her spazzy Buckley and imitate the signs, crude and heartbreaking and she can’t even cry here because everyone can hear her. Robin who teaches herself to speak without signing, sits on her hands and tries not to internalize the hatred, but her fingers still twitch constantly along with the words. Robin who thinks she’s never going to fit in, and tries to separate out the two different parts of herself because it’s easier, most days, to pretend to be “normal” even though that feels wrong too.

Give me Robin, who knows Steve inside out and who knows what it looks like when someone can’t hear you but pretends they can. Robin who clocks Steve immediately, even though he tries to brush her off like he’s been doing to everyone. Robin who finally takes him home to meet her parents, explaining it all in the car (into his right ear, which is better than the left though still starting to fade). Robin who gives Steve the gift of understanding and hope for the future. Who holes up with him and teaches him sign, slow at first (because Steve has never been good at grammar, and he constantly furrows his eyebrows despite her pleas that eyebrows are important in ASL and he needs to use his face more or he’s going to confuse everyone, it’s the visual equivalent of lilting your voice up like every sentence is a question and it’s weird, Steve!) and then faster as he starts to realize how useful it is, starts to bring her lists full of signs to learn, starts to lean on and cherish the experience of this new way to communicate. Robin, who helps him practice lipreading even though she’s terrible at it. Robin, who finally convinces him to get a hearing aid and lets him sob into her shoulder when the doctor says it’ll help for a few years, but long term there’s probably nothing they can do, and then tells him to buck it up because there are way worse things than being a little deaf and besides, now the Buckleys will just have to adopt him for real because they did always talk about adopting a deaf child or two, if there was ever one in need.

Give me CODA Robin, whose never felt like she belonged until she nearly gets murdered by Russians with her best friend. Who brings Steve into her life, shows him Deaf culture, gives him a place where he fits. Robin who finally realizes that this is her place too, and it’s so much sweeter for getting to share it with the people she loves.

And then, after, give me Eddie knocking on the Buckley door and begging to learn ASL too. Give me Robin’s mom, somehow roped in to teaching him and the party, as they try to learn in secret to make Steve’s life easier (and their own, because ASL is god tier for pulling pranks from opposite sides of a high school cafeteria). Give me Dustin, excitedly telling Miranda Buckley to FUCK-OFF every week for months because he thinks he’s saying THANK-YOU and she finds it too funny to correct him. Give me Eddie trying to surprise Steve and ask him out on a date, but instead of signing HUNGRY, WANT YOU&ME GO AFTER WORK? he signs HORNY, WANT YOU&ME GO FUCK?

And give me Steve, who thinks about it for a long minute (partially because Eddie totally botches the grammar, but partially because he looks so hot, standing there nervous and trying to communicate with Steve in a way that will make him the most comfortable) before he smirks and signs back YEAH, and takes Eddie on the best goddamn first date of his life. 

[noraiir-arts]

Guys I think I’m so funny

[aimbutmiss]

There's something so poetic about Ace and Luffy choosing to set sail at 17.

Of course it was a way for them to honor Sabo and his dream, but it's not just that. Turning 18 at the sea means you don't belong anywhere but the sea. You are truly free. That's why Luffy, the literal embodiment of freedom, turning 18 as a pirate is very fitting.

But it's not just Luffy. All three of them, as brothers, were free. Free from their families and their legacy, from expectations. Brothers who made every choice along the way for themselves in the name of true freedom.

Every choice... including ones leading to death. Ace chose to protect Luffy, and he died a free man. A child of the sea. A brother, not by blood, but three cups of sake.

Freedom flows through every part of Luffy's story, coursing through every important person in his life, braiding their stories into each other to form a beautiful picture. The entirety of One Piece is a love letter to freedom, an intricately layered poem.

And Luffy is in the center of it all, fighting for it.

[fluffywing-e-tarot]

The God that Marks Garps Student

Koby was marked. Garp knew the scrawny brat was marked the moment he laid eyes on him.

Koby had a strong sense of Justice and a Protector of the weak.

So, Tsuisu mark wouldn't be surprising. However, by his Background report and his own personal testimony. Koby arrived on Shells with Luffy. And punched Koby declaring him not a member of the now named Strawhat Pirates

Nika's markings wouldn't be out of place either. 

The Cadet was kind too. There was a partnership blooming with the blond twigs. He has seen Astrus mark a Dog for its Loyalty.

Astrus' mark might be a stretch. As by some of the Reports he's snooped off of Senny's desk Ace has been making a mess in the New World.

So when he took them onto his ship. He was fully prepared for one of his three Godly Grandsons to show up.

He set about the offerings on the shrines. In his quarters. Knowing none of them could resist a snack after using their abilities to hop to a shrine.

Garp snapped awake when he heard shuffling in his room. He spotted the tails of a coat exiting his room.

It could only be Sabo that came to check on his student.

He bolted towards his Wayward grandson.

"You Get black here you brat." Garp said, running out onto the deck only to see Sabo leep off the ship like an escaping boy after hours.

The half-shaded face looked at him with the usual terror. As he disembarked from the ship. 

"Sabo, at least have the decency of a man to say hello to your grandpa!" he shouted after the boy. Sabo would be fine In the water. He could walk on moonlight. But his grandson didn't say anything as he swam away.

" Sir should we go after the stowaway?" One of the twigs on night watch asked.

"No. We'll just lose him in the moonlight. Return to your watch." Garp growled "I'm going back to bed."

" Yes sir." The twig said.

Continue

[keyotos]

the only exception

summary ⎯ where blade thinks there is no more hope for love, but you may be the only exception.

tags ⎯ soft blade. mentions of blade's past. reader uses his real name (yingxing) like once on accident. emotional rollercoaster. blade goes through the 5 stages of grief except its not grief it's love. blade is bad at feelings.

tana's thoughts ⎯ gave into the voices and i starting writing this.

the xianzhou is not like it used to be, yet it has not changed that much either. at least, that's what blade noticed as he stood by one of the railings at starskiff haven. he watched the starskiffs come and go as he stood there, motionless.

he had a cup of tea from the tea parlor nearby. some customers wanted him to engage in tea discourse with them because he was an "outworlder," but with one glare from him, they knew better than to press on. so now, he was alone in the dark with sunglasses on.

starskiffs seemed to improve throughout the years. his favorite snack stand was gone, one he used to visit with you. blade tried to ignore the burning sensation in the middle of his chest at the thought. but the stupid mungbean soda vending machines were still there. damn them, he thought.

blade took off his sunglasses momentarily as he rubbed his eyes. sunglasses were obviously meant to be worn in the sun, not in the dark: they were causing him eye strain. he tried to be as subtle as possible, not trying to attract any cloud knights or realm-keeping employees. his face was still on a wanted poster, after all.

"ahem."

blade turned back to find a cloud knight with a mung bean soda in their hand. his mind instantly turned to you, given that you were also a cloud knight who loved mung bean soda (unless that changed as well), but he snapped back to the current situation. he was about to be arrested. the cloud knight cornered him, spear in hand as they slightly lifted up their helmet to take a sip out of their drink.

have cloud knights gotten sloppier? why are they drinking soda when they were about to arrest someone? blade furrowed his eyebrows, but still got into a defensive position.

he was about to swing at the cloud knight until they held their hands up in surrender, "woah, dude," they slowly said, raising their hands up, "i'm not gonna arrest you," they placed their mung bean soda on the railing, and removed their hat.

and it was you. he was just thinking about you, and you appeared. the sight felt surreal. you, who he had been so close with all those years ago. you, who became his first friend on the luofu. you, who still lingered in his mind after all these years, who he thought about even when the mara was affecting him.

you've changed. though you haven't exactly aged, you look older. you look exhausted; your face didn't glow as it used to. blade thinks he is partial to blame for that. your posture is profoundly straight and no longer slouched⎯something you used to struggle with.

the wind blows through your hair, scattering some leaves around with it. your expression is neutral as you throw all your armor on the ground and dust yourself off. there is no smile adorning your face. everything feels so identical, but so different.

his stance softened, but he didn't let up. when you saw that, you only sighed in response. after kicking some stray pieces of armor to the side, you lean your back on the rail as you sipped your soda. the sound of the armor colliding together on the floor made blade cringe.

"i don't actually wear armor, by the way," you swung the drink in his vicinity, offering him a sip using a hand gesture. when he didn't respond, you took another swig. "i have my own uniform. pretty cool, isn't it?" you tilt your head down towards your outfit.

blade doesn't understand. why were you speaking to him as if you two were still friends? could you recognize him under the glasses? it has been so long, he'd be surprised if you recognized him at all.

blade tries to maintain his cover. he is silent while you raise an eyebrow inquisitively, wondering why this stranger wasn't responding to you. you're waiting for him to speak, blade notices. he doesn't say anything. you tilt your head to the side, and blade tilts his head the other way.

you sigh, "you know, not many people are out here so late," you sip out of your soda can, looking at blade while he looks at the starskiffs. you continue, "an old friend of mine used to do this. we'd go out every night and create elaborate stories about strangers, and then stare at starskiffs."

you're telling blade about himself. or, his past self anyway. there's a present ache in his heart, hearing how you speak about him. blade feels like an imposter, standing here with sunglasses on while you talk about him. you sound melancholic, like you miss him. a stupid thing for you, blade thought.

"he's gone now," you turned and leaned forward, now watching the starskiffs with blade. he gets a sense of deja vu, and the feeling sends chills all over his body. you rest your head on your arms on the rail, "i miss him though. he was a little awkward, but he was kind."

"and sometimes," you turn your head towards blade, "he was a little annoying. like he would keep hating on my soda," you hold your soda up to blade, but all he could think about was how you just called him annoying, "or he'd force me to go to bed early. coddle me. nag at me to do my laundry⎯that was very annoying. like, hello? i'm an adult, i could totally do my own laundry," you ranted as you watched the starskiffs.

"maybe you should've done your laundry earlier," he mumbled to himself. he made sure it was low enough that only he would be able to hear it. if you noticed, you didn't say anything; you were still focused on the starskiffs passing by.

blade takes the time to look at you. to study you. it felt like everything about you was so different, but you were still the same. you still chatted about anything to strangers (something he always chided you about). you still drank mung bean soda. you didn't have that growth spurt you dreamed about.

but you were quieter. ironic, because you just jabbered about the annoyances blade had caused you years ago. but you didn't give out too many details. you didn't mouth off about what tea parlor was best, or recent gossip from earlier. you kept things to yourself. blade doesn't know if he should be happy or not.

something was off. there was a wall between you now. and it felt so wrong. blade knows he isn't entitled to anything⎯not anymore, at least. but the feeling of disconnect between two people who were once rooted together physically pained him. even with everything that has happened, he did not want to see you like this.

"i hope he visits soon," you look at him with eyes that glitter among the stars. you're still hopeful; that has not changed. you speak like the sun is shining in your body, and your words are laced with warmth that eases enough for blade to let his guard down. that's when he realized that you're still glowing, and you never stopped.

but your words also bring a stabbing pain into his heart. why are you still longing for him? you should have moved on. you should have found someone better for you. someone who will not harm you at any given moment. but here you are, missing him. hoping he comes back.

"seriously? i just told you that i missed you and hoped you came back, and you say nothing??" you grimaced, looking exasperated. there's a slight crack in the wall now, but blade doesn't notice.

he had other things to concentrate on. like what you just said.

blade did not find this very amusing. his eyes widened underneath his sunglasses and he took a few steps back. after all these years, you could still find him in a crowd full of people. it was love he did not deserve, yet still begrudgingly craved.

"how did you know it was me?" was all blade could utter. he was too alarmed to ask any other questions, or press on your story. or to ask more about you.

you glower and huff, "so he does speak," you cross your arms over the railing as you turn to make eye contact with your past ally.

"how did you know?" blade snarled. he didn't intend for his words to come out as harsh as they did, and the moment they left his mouth, he wanted to shove the words back in and eat them. he had forgotten how you made him feel like an idiot sometimes just by doing absolutely nothing.

your eyes widen and your eyebrows slightly jump up; blade wishes he could erase that expression from his head permanently. however, instead of reacting to it, your composure remains calm. it unsettles blade; he has never seen you so calm before. when you two were young, you got into arguments with those who barely picked a fight with you. you were straightforward and aggressive: blade shouldn't have admired that about you, but nevertheless, he did.

you're less temperamental, and blade doesn't know if he likes it or not. he was worried. after a lifetime of emptiness and recklessness, blade worries. he worries about you: your life, your job, your wellbeing. he worries if you got promoted or not, or if you're living happily.

do you have a partner? blade tries to ignore the flames surrounding his heart as he thinks about your love life.

"oh please. after all the years we've spent together, you'd think i wouldn't be able to spot you in a crowd?" you let out a dry and curt laugh, "just because your hair got darker and you changed your outfit, does not mean you are unrecognizable."

"not to me, anyway," you quietly add, turning your gaze away from him and back to the starskiffs. there's an overwhelming feeling that was welling up in blade's body. it wasn't mara, because it felt more peaceful. but the urge was still strong. he wanted to grab your chin and turn you back towards him; he wanted you to look at him again and explain. to tell him about everything. he doesn't care about the topic, but he will listen no matter what.

blade feels foolish. how could one conversation (if you could even call this a conversation) make him feel so lovestruck? every single feeling for you⎯that he thought he had discarded a long time ago⎯reappeared out of thin air. it all came rushing back at him: your personality, your terrible jokes, and every single thing he grew to love about you. blade tried so hard to dismiss those feelings in the past century, and in the midst of a few minutes, all his past work crumbled.

when blade doesn't say anything, you take a sip out of your drink. the silence is tense; it is opposed to the once comfortable silences you two shared while watching starskiffs. blade thinks that, in another life, nothing would have changed: he would not have become mara-struck, and you two would watch starskiffs fly for hours on end.

but everything has changed now. and there's no going back to fix it. blade will shove down every morsel of affection he feels for you again. and this time, they won't come back up. starting tonight.

you give him a small smile, "so, wanna tell me what you've been up to?"

he will shove down every morsel of affection. starting tomorrow night. another crack in the wall between the both of you.

the feeling of wanting to capture someone's smile is maddening. you drive him crazy, and you make him more insane than mara ever could. all of this because of one smile? blade pictures your small smile once again. it's incomparable to your true smile, though. one where you're showing all your teeth and your eyes crinkle with such bemusement it drives him amuck.

once he pictures your toothy smile, he sinks deeper into the talons of endearment.

"aren't you supposed to arrest me?" he deflects, trying to stem away from his previous lovesick thoughts. maybe, if you arrest him now, he could flee from the luofu forever. maybe then, he'd have a reason to avoid you for life.

you make a 'pfft' noise with your mouth, and the sound is familiar and stupid. it has no reason to make his heart flutter the way it just did.

"if i wanted to arrest you, then you'd be in the hall of karma ages ago," you boast, "luckily for you though, i'm on a break."

"didn't know cloud knights slacked off now," blade rolls his eyes under his sunglasses. he thinks that if he's rude enough towards you, then you'd get the message that he's changed, and you would leave. he's not the same person he was before. if he didn't deserve you back then, he most definitely did not deserve you now.

"well, i'm not a cloud knight anymore," you step closer to him, "i'm a lieutenant."

so you got promoted. blade deeply tries to ignore how his breaths get more shallow after the mention of your promotion.

instead of congratulating you, blade instead replies with, "so you're the same rank as that kid that follows the general around?"

your face falls, and dread swarms throughout his body, spreading through every vein and artery and organ. every regret blade has does not compare with whatever he just said. blade finds that, whenever he thinks about regret, your face has always remained through his sea of remorse. you are the one thing he regrets in many different ways.

blade regrets meeting you. he regrets indulging in your offers for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. he regrets spending his nights with you. he regrets every time his heart leapt multiple beats whenever you were near. he regrets letting his guard down around you, because even now⎯whenever he is with you⎯he feels incredibly relaxed, despite not having to see you in centuries.

he regrets you. he regrets not being able to say goodbye to you. he regrets leaving you with so many qualms. he regrets not being able to see you change. he regrets the fact that he never got to confess to you. he regrets the fact that he still loves you, because why else would he be feeling this way?

the idiot keeps his mouth shut, even though he wants to apologize. "i didn't mean it," he wanted to say, "i'm sure you are very capable now. you stand up more straighter and you look more put together. not that you didn't look put together before. well, actually you didn't, but that's not the point."

it occured to blade that he was rambling about you in his mind. he was describing you in his mind. he was going crazy. nobody else notices these things about you. but blade physically could not tear his eyes away from you. the more he stared, the more he noticed more: such as the way your shoulders were more upright, your breathing was slow and even, and you surprisingly didn't look like you wanted to kill him. the you from centuries ago would have thrown him off the ledge.

you sigh, pressing your fingers to the bridge of your nose, "i see you've met yanqing."

blade says nothing, which simply prompts you to keep talking. a tiny slither of comfort enter's blade's body: it was refreshing to see that after years, some things will never change.

"he's jing yuan's retainer," blade internally (and bitterly) revels in the fact that you don't use any formalities with jing yuan anymore, "he can be a bit... much. but it makes sense. he's only a kid, you know? i like him," you move your soda can to the side to make room for your arms. you're leaning on the railing again, and you were not looking at blade anymore. it should not scatter uneasiness around his nerves.

he wants to share an anecdote of his own. blade yearns for connection with you for just once more. when he is around you, there's an ache in his heart. it was always there; past and present. he thought it would be subtle, like a symptom of a short-term illness. but soon he realized, the symptom he shrugged off was a manifestation of something bigger. and blade never truly recognized how long his sickness would last. because here he is right now, sick as a dog in your presence.

if wanting to fuel your everlasting fire was a sickness, blade decided that he would be diagnosed as terminal.

blade tsks at your statement. you are not impressed; your face looking slack and skeptical. there have been many times where he has been on the receiving end of that look, yet he feels the air swirl all around in his stomach every time you look at him that way. he also tries to slow his heart rate down: there should be no reason why he should be elated at the fact that you're looking at him.

"don't give me that," you cross your arms, "he reminds me of you," you pause, letting the silence overtake the both of you. there are so many unsaid things that the silence feels full, yet still too quiet. you know that the past is a sensitive topic for blade (and you as well, but you choose to dwell on that another night).

"back when we were kids, anyway," you quickly add on.

blade scoffs. scoffs. he does not see himself in yanqing, and he also does not know how you came up to that conclusion. it was ridiculous and strange. blade had to fight a scowl off his face: yanqing and him were nothing alike. if anything, the child was the spitting image of the general.

at least time hasn't changed your terrible analogies.

"terrible?" you point a finger at him, nearing his sunglasses. oh. he said that out loud. "i'll have you know, my analogies are great!"

"you compared me to yanqing, who resembles jing yuan the most," blade shifts his head to the side as he crosses his arms. your finger made his glasses shift down slightly. he could see you a lot better now without the dark obstructing his view, and he internally curses at the wanted posters for being the (indirect) reason he has to wear the glasses.

you let out a sound of disbelief, which resembled blade's scoff and your huff from earlier, "first of all, i was describing temperament. second, terrible?!?"

"if you were describing temperament, then that child would be your twin," he says, trying to fight off the feeling of his lips turning up. this feels familiar. it feels homely, almost. the world melts away when he is around you. every person, place, worry: disintegrated away by your warmth. did you know that? how do you do that? how do you make all the problems in the world disappear so easily?

you let out a breathy laugh, turning away from blade one more time. except, this time, you turn back, a grin evident on your face. it's dark in starskiff haven at the moment, but blade is sure that he just saw the sun in your smile. out of his peripheral vision, he looks to see if anyone else has noticed. have they noticed the light coming from you? how do they notice notice it?

the world continues to move, but with you, it seems that everything is perfectly still.

"i'll have you know, i worked on that whole temperament thing," you held up a hand to his face, "i'm chill now."

"oh really?" blade skeptically raises an eyebrow. you can see it through the crack in his facade left by the sunglasses. you can see his eyes a little bit more clearer.

"oh yeah," you drag out, taking a long sip of your soda. you turn on your back and spread your arms across the railings, mimicking a tired soldier, "i'm chill."

and this feels so normal, like if it was a typical night on the luofu. you and him spending time together once again. everything fell back into place so easily, as if the events of all those years ago never happened. why was it so easy?

various emotions coarse through his body, each feeling worse than the last. he can't stay. he can't live. he knows that the longer he stays here with you, the harder leaving you gets. but things have changed, even if you have not. you probably couldn't even love him the same either, logistically speaking. there were too many obstacles standing between the both of you: loving him was impossible.

he still does not understand why you still speak to him.

greeted by his silence, you choose to continue the conversation further, "this soda really helped," you slide the drink over to him again, "it's been a few years. you should try it again."

"a few years, huh?" blade eyes the drink. biggest understatement of the year.

"yeah," you eye him. your eyes are telling him to say something. blade, in all of his fearlessness, is scared. he has not been scared in a long time. the feelings of fear rushing back into him leave him stranded to his own devices, and he has no clue how to react. he used to turn to you for these things, but now, you are the reason for his fear.

you step closer to him. you are close enough that your shoulders are now touching. when you speak, blade tries to control the agitation growing in the pit of his stomach. destructive thoughts impede and pervase through his mind.

"they hate you."

"things will never be the same."

"whatever you had once, it has all gone down the drain now."

"please try the mung bean soda."

what?

blade snapped out of his head to see you holding up your drink right next to his face. he leaned his head backwards as he was met with your pleading eyes.

you took him out of his trance like it was nothing. you didn't have abilities like kafka did, yet you were able to take him out of his spiral using only six words. how was it that everything surrounding you became so easy?

"i'm not drinking that," blade says with a stern voice. he hopes that his glasses hide the panic that was once apparent in his eyes.

"c'mon," you begged, "just one sip⎯"

"why are you even doing this?" blade irritatedly snapped.

you raise an eyebrow and pretend to not know what he was talking about, "because i want you to try new things...?"

"you know what i mean."

you set down the soda can again and let out a long sigh. you run your hands through your hair, and blade thinks this is it. this is the moment where you snap back like you usually would. this is the part where you tell him that he should leave. he's too difficult, too hard to love.

"did you think i was lying back when i said i missed you?" your entire face softened. there was no light-heartened smirk or grin. you look sad. there are no other words to describe how else you look except sad. blade could not think of any other words. all he could focus on was you.

"i wasn't lying," you say, sounding more desperate than before, "i miss you so much, yin⎯blade." your tone turns sharp when you say his name now. this is it, blade tells himself, this is the part where you leave.

"you matter to me," you eunicate, "i still believe in you. i don't care about the past; i'm not letting it hold me back. which, i know is probably wrong on some level, but i don't care. because i miss you a lot."

"it's not even the fact that i miss us from before," you're rambling now. blade does not have the heart to stop you, "but i just miss you. blade or yingxing, i couldn't care less. i miss our late night talks, so when i saw you here tonight, i jumped at the opportunity to talk to you," you threw your hands up in the air, and then ran another hand through your hair, "and when we spoke⎯even with everything that happened⎯everything felt so easy while talking to you. and everything was okay. and i just wanted that so badly," your voice trailed off. blade swore he could hear it crack a little.

you had felt the same way he did. blade does not know if he was just consumed by an overwhelming sense of air flowing through his chest, or feeling something drop in his chest after you said what you said.

"sorry," you had nothing to apologize for, "i just word-dumped on you," you were using another one of your weird terms again, "i just wanted to let you know that i've always missed you. i've missed everything about you. and i don't want to let you go."

i still love you.

you don't say that. you finish your tangent with a long sigh and another swig of your soda can. it's almost empty. mentally, you feel like that soda can right now. you just dumped years worth of feelings on blade, and he responds with silence.

this is it, you think, this is where he leaves.

but he doesn't. he brings you closer. blade grabs your wrist before you can put the drink back down, and he brings the can to his lips. he faces the fact that he just put his lips where yours were. for a brief second, he imagines that he was pressing his lips onto yours⎯not the soda can.

blade takes back everything he said earlier. he does not regret you whatsoever. he yearns for you. he needs you to function. he wants you: all the time.

he does not regret meeting you. he is not a believer of gods, but he wants to praise whichever higher power that allowed your fate to intertwine with his. he does not regret spending every moment of his time with you; those have been some of the happiest memories in his life.

most of all, he does not regret loving you, because who would regret the warmth of an everlasting flame?

love has been something blade has lived without for many years. but it all comes back so effortlessly with you. and now he realizes why: he loves you like air fans flames. he will keep on giving into your love, so long as you are still there. it doesn't matter when or where: it just matters if you are there.

"i thought you didn't like mung bean soda," you look at his ear rather than his face, not ready for rejection.

"you wanted me to try something new, didn't you?" blade only looked at you, wrist still in hand. he ponders how he was ever scared of your love.

“i didn’t think you would try it so soon,” you pathetically laughed.

“sooner than you’d think,” he quietly mumbled, only so the two of you could hear it. his fingers were grasping the top of your hands as he still held onto your wrist.

“look,” you place the drink down, slinking your hand out of blade’s hold, “i know you’re probably going to be gone soon. that’s fine. couldn’t really expect you to stay because of your… you know. job,” you awkwardly explain, tucking your hands behind your back.

“but,” you sounded more optimistic, and it seemed as though the street lights all lit up, “you know that friend i was telling you about? the annoying one?” blade rolls his eyes, you only laugh at his reaction, “i hope that he visits more often.”

hope. you hope for him to come back. you hope for more. blade hopes for more too. he wants more, actually. craves it.

but he plays hard to get, “well, if you keep calling your friend ‘annoying’ i doubt he’ll visit as often as you’d like,” and he smirks. you have to bite your lip, hard, to restrain your giddy smile.

“well, i was just telling it as it is,” and it’s easy again. and you want this as much as blade does. and this is hope. this is hope that, even after everything, you’re still here and love is still alive. the wall is broken so easily.

“mhm, okay.”

“yup!”

“i’ll see if i can sort something out,” blade tells you, taking another drink of your soda. he’s emptied at this point. he’s only taking the “drink” so he could try to hide his (growing) blush from you.

“i thought you ‘weren’t going to visit’ as often,” you pouted, rolling your eyes.

“well, i never said that. i said your friend was going to do that. just giving you some advice, that’s all,” he teased. you felt your heart swell up: everything was going to be fine.

“your advice is shit.”

“you’re shit.”

yeah. everything will be okay.

if this looks familiar it’s bc this is an expanded ver of the xianzhou men hcs i did like a week ago. this was from blades part and i liked it sm i wrote more. wish i could have done the end a little bit more justice but i am TIREDDDD it was 4:30 in the morning.

but if u made it all the way down here i hope u enjoyed!! i put my tanussy in this and i wrote for like 5 hrs so pls enjoy LMAO

[bigquestionmark]

[literallyaflame]

i don’t know what it is about sign language that makes ppl say the most buckwild most uninformed shit you’ve ever seen in your life. like. i’m hoh and only conversationally fluent. i have access needs, sure, but i’m not qualified to educate anyone about sign language. so i generally stay out of it.

the thing is, there’s only so many times you can see someone confidently say some shit like “why didn’t they just make ONE sign language???” or “actually every country has their own asl” or “wait, i can answer this! i don’t know anything about sign language, but i read a wattpad fic about a Deaf girl in 2015—” before you start chewing on walls

[thebridgetonarnia]

I wanna talk about Hard of Hearing Steve Harrington! I posted a version of this on twitter but wanted to edit and expand it slightly here. so please enjoy some HoH!Steve finding community through his and Eddie's deaf daughter.

Steve and Eddie weirdly have Richard Harrington to thank for their daughter. One of his mistress's had a child who was born deaf.

Richard wanted nothing to do with this child, or the girl's mother. He scoffed at the woman who just wanted some help, and told her "It looks like all his children are broken, and Harrington's demand perfection."

So this young woman - younger than Steve is at the time - who is alone in the world puts the child up for adoption, and as next of kin, Steve gets a call, asking about a child.

He and Eddie immediately say yes, of course they'll take the child. They'd been thinking about children for a long time, but they hadn't been so lucky in that department. Steve's half sister, as it happens, needs a home, because their good for nothing sperm donor of a father abandoned them both. So they will raise her, as their own, and she will never be made to feel othered, or lesser than. They name her Hope.

Steve has been wearing hearing aides for years now, he and Eddie had thought idly about learning sign language over the years, but they've never been able to commit. It always gets pushed to the side for other things, and Steve hears well enough anyway with his aides.

But with Hope? They buy all the books, and take lessons with Robin at the community college, because she's going to need it to communicate with the world.

Steve picks it up quickly, and he and Eddie watch as their infant toddler picks up language and can communicate with them. It's really a sight to see.

The guy who teaches the class is a CODA, child of deaf adults, and he puts them on to the Deaf community in the city, urges them to make sure their kid grows up with people like her.

So once again, they dive head first into the community, because Steve and Eddie would rather die than make Hope feel isolated. They take Hope to kid friendly Deaf events, they meet Deaf adults, and slowly as Steve talks to other Deaf people, he realizes that something just clicks for him.

Something had slotted out of place inside of him the second his hearing started to go, when he started to feel like he wasn't built for the world around him anymore, and people started to treat him differently for wearing hearing aides so young.

Eddie and the Party have always made him feel comfortable, they always make sure they look at him when they speak to him, never tell him never mind, or I'll tell you late when he misses anything. But even with all that support, he sometimes still feels like an outsider. But that off-balanced thing slides right back into place when he's at Deaf events with Hope because these people understand him so fundamentally.

Steve makes friends - outside of their little found family - actual friends who see him for who he is, not for what he lacks.

He wears his hearing aides less and less, and sign gets used in their home more and more, even when Hope isn't around. He starts to identify as Deaf. It feels like when he started dating Eddie, like the world opened up to him.

He's so so grateful to his father for the first time in his life because his affair brought Hope into their lives, and she is the best thing that ever happened to him and Eddie, and she gave Steve a community of people that made him feel comfortable in the world again.

And when Steve finds the Deaf Queer community? Well that just feels like coming home.

[taizi]

okay just because we were talking about this - how do you think an asl reunion at alabasta would look like?

i hope its ok that i took this as an excuse to write an au no one asked for :')

read on ao3

x

A lot of the problems in Ace’s young life—most of them, if he was being honest—could be attributed to the shitty choices that adults around him made. 

When Bluejam grabbed Luffy by the scruff, the business end of a pistol jammed painfully into the nape of his neck, he was talking a bunch of shit about how Sabo’s dad ripped him off. He was paid to kill Ace and Luffy but he’d been short-changed, and for a man who seemed to think he was entitled to a certain lot in life, it rankled. 

“But that noble brat doesn’t make a bad ransom,” the man said, shaking a weepy Luffy in one meaty hand to shut him up, like Ace’s baby brother was nothing but a piece of dirty laundry. “If his family won’t buy him back, I’m sure someone will.”

Ace’s blood turned to ice in his veins. Whatever time Ace didn’t spend in the jungle he spent in the gutters and outskirts of the city, where every unwanted, street-sharpened child knew the risk a certain kind of stranger brought with them. 

If Sabo ended up with a slaver, Ace would never get his brother back. Pieces of him, maybe. But not the same golden boy he was right now. Not the brave, proud, secretly soft-hearted person Ace loved so much. He’d come back different if he came back at all. 

He had to compartmentalize. He couldn’t act rashly until he had Luffy back. His mind raced frantically, but he made sure it didn’t show on his face. He snatched Luffy up when Bluejam finally let him go and made his own body a wall between his brother and the men who had no compunctions about hurting him to prove a point. 

They were left to spread gasoline throughout the terminal, while the pirates made their way back down to the beach. Not one of them lingered to make sure Ace and Luffy did as they were told, and Ace should have wondered about that. Should have wondered why they were making themselves scarce, why the city gates were barred, what all those fuel canisters are for, but his thoughts were too full of other things.

That was why, the second the coast was clear, he tossed his gasoline drum aside and seized Luffy by the arms. He stooped to look right into his eyes, trying to ignore the way his chest panged at how wide and red they were. 

“I have to go get Sabo,” he said firmly. “You have to stay here.”

“Let me come!” Luffy cried immediately, predictably. “Don’t leave me behind!”

“It’ll be faster if you wait,” Ace snapped, because he didn’t want to say that Luffy was going nowhere near any ship bound for the slave market, because then he would have to explain why. Even without the Fruit that made him a special novelty in the Blues, Luffy would be snatched up by evil hands in a heartbeat. “You’re too little, you’ll just slow me down,” he said instead. 

It wasn’t nice, and when Ace had time later, he would feel bad about the way Luffy’s lip trembled. But for now, it was important that he got his point across. Every second he lingered was another inch ahead Bluejam’s crew got. Ace’s world would literally end if their ship left port without him. 

So he gave Luffy’s shoulders a push that propelled him back a step. Then he pointed in the direction of the treeline. He made his face mean and forbidding. 

“I mean it, Luffy,” he said. “Go wait for me at home.”

Luffy finally tucked his chin in a miserable little nod. Ace gentled despite himself and reached out because there were two people he would always reach out for and one of them was right in front of him.

He flicked the brim of Luffy’s hat up enough that it fell off his head, and then ruffled his hair. A gesture so familiar and well-practiced it was like muscle memory to him now. Luffy didn’t smile, but it kept the tears at bay for a bit longer, and Ace left him with another firm point back at the jungle. 

Ace was a child, doing his best to keep his tiny family together. He had a half-formed plan that he would sneak about Bluejam’s ship and find Sabo wherever he was and they would fight their way out and escape together and reunite with Luffy in time for a midnight dinner. He was a pragmatic youth, and was made wiser by the world than any ten-year-old should have been, but he was still only ten years old. He couldn’t have guessed what was going to happen. 

He would piece it together later—that Bluejam had been commissioned by the kingdom to make sure the Gray Terminal burned down, a noble title he planned to come back to collect once he had auctioned off Outlook’s eldest son to the highest bidder—that Ace had chased after one brother and left the other alone in a place that was about to go up in flames. 

When he climbed aboard the Blood Batako, he didn’t realize it would be the last time he saw Dawn Island for almost half a year. 

He didn’t realize that Luffy would wait for him right there where Ace left him, even as the fire spread into walls of flames much taller than a scrawny seven year old—frightened and crying, little hands bunched in the front of his own shirt as he choked for each breath in the thick, acrid smoke. That Dadan would find him there and haul him away kicking weakly but not screaming, because there wasn’t enough oxygen left in his body to scream. That the asphyxiation, not the fire, is what nearly killed Luffy that night. That he would spend the next week in Foosha Village tended to by their only doctor and wake up with some of his memory intact, but not all. That he would recognize Makino, but wouldn’t know Dadan. 

Ace had no way of knowing, when he and Sabo finally made their way home, well-traveled at the tender young age of freshly eleven, and relieved to see journey’s end for the time being, and looking forward to reuniting with a certain crybaby who had probably been miserable cooped up in Dadan’s country or at Party’s Bar without them, that Luffy will have been gone for months by then. 

“A cruise ship docked further up the island,” Makino says fretfully, “and a little boy who worked in the kitchens came down here to play because he said he didn’t like the way the kingdom smelled. He and Luffy were fast friends. I had no idea Luffy was planning to leave with him until I found the note he left in his room, and by then they were long gone.” 

It’s a good thing Sabo is there, because Ace’s head is just a roar of white noise. Sabo is the one who chokes out, “But—what—did—did you call Gramps? What did he say? Is he going to find him?”

“I don’t have his direct line. I’ve left a dozen messages with his office, but you know how he is,” Makino says, forgetting that they don’t, actually. “He hardly remembers that he has an office. And the number Dadan has for him is no good.”

“Why would Luffy wander off like that?” Sabo says, progressively getting louder. “Why wasn’t someone watching him?”

“He’s just been so restless since the fire,” Makino replies. “There wasn’t anything keeping him here anymore, and it seemed like he just needed one good excuse to leave.”

Sabo looks as gutted by that as Ace probably feels, hurt and confusion racing their way across his face. And Ace finally makes his contribution, in the form of a choked, “What do you mean?” which is when Makino realizes there’s something they still don’t know. 

She sits them both down at a table and holds one of each of their hands in hers, and gently explains that while they were gone, the world as they knew it had changed forever, and the happy little boy who always ran to catch up to them wasn’t running after them anymore. 

———

Ace still forms the Spades, and Sabo still falls in with the Revolutionary Army, and the only reason they don’t sail together the way they promised when they were young is because the ocean is awfully big. They have a lot of square footage to cover, and splitting up is the only way they could even hope to cover it all. 

It doesn’t occur to either of them to give up at any point. As Sabo climbs ranks, as Ace gathers a crew, both their bounties increasing every day, they continue to search faithfully. Either they’ll find him one day, or they’ll simply spend the rest of their lives looking. 

Masked Deuce says, “What about the cruise ship he left on? Did you track it down?” 

“Boarded by pirates that same year,” Ace replies. “According to the official report, it sank in a storm.”

The loaded silence says everything Masked Deuce will not say. Ace doesn’t care what someone who has never met Luffy thinks about his odds of survival at sea. If Deuce knew Luffy, he would understand. Since he doesn’t, Ace’s first mate can believe his captain is delusional all he likes as long as it doesn’t keep him from doing his job. 

Deuce turns out to be a better friend than Ace deserves. One day when Ace leaves his crew to party with some locals and sets off into town to distribute flyers and put his ear to the ground, he hears someone rumble something under their breath about a hopeless cause. He doesn’t even have time to turn around before Deuce has seemingly teleported across the bar and knocked the dissenter out cold. 

“Anyone who shares his opinion is free to get their shit and leave,” he says calmly. 

The only voices that rise up are ones who sound very offended that Deuce would lump them in with that guy, and Ace refuses to look as touched as he feels. 

When he hears word of Red-Hair Shanks in nearby waters, he tracks the man down to a wintery island and leads his crew up a small mountain to meet him. In part, he wants to thank this man who saved his little brother all those years ago. But also…

“I heard about the fire,” Shanks said grimly. “And Makino kept me updated about little Anchor until he disappeared. I’ve got eyes out looking, too, Ace. The world is big, but not so big that we’ll never find him.”

It’s a relief to know that Luffy is so loved, that more than just his brothers care if he’s ever found. But in true Luffy fashion, he explodes onto the scene when he’s good and ready. 

Ace is woken up by Deuce kicking the door of the captain’s quarters off its hinges and shoving a crinkled Wanted poster into Ace’s bleary face so that a toothy, stretching smile is the first thing he sees. 

He accidentally sets half the room on fire, a slip-up the likes of which hasn’t happened since the first week after he ate his Fruit, and there’s a lot of screaming, and someone shoves a baby Den-Den at him so he can call Sabo. From the way his nakama were carrying on, you would think it was their long-lost brother in the paper.

“I was about to call,” Sabo says breathlessly in lieu of a hello after only barely half a ring. “You saw it?”

“I saw,” Ace replies. The newspaper is rattling noisily in his hands but he can’t get them to stop shaking. “He took down Arlong Park. There are all these witness statements from the villagers. They’re saying he did it all for his friend.”

“If anyone even thinks about coming for his bounty, I’m killing everyone on the Grand Line and then myself,” Sabo says. It takes knowing him as well as Ace knows him to be able to tell over the phone that he’s crying buckets. 

“Get in line,” Ace says. If anyone so much as looks at Luffy wrong he’s burning this goddamn planet down. He can’t tear his eyes away from the poster for more than a few seconds at a time. At the urchin grin, the pencil-mark curve of a scar, this bright young man he’s never met who is so, so familiar. 

“They’re calling him Straw Hat Luffy,” Deuce says. He’s a pillar of serenity in a sea of absolute chaos, leaning on Ace’s shoulder to read with him. There’s a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Now I’ll finally get to meet him.”

Which turns out to be easier said than done, because Luffy and his merry band of lunatics won’t seem to stay in one fucking spot for longer than an hour. It takes weeks to finally track that cute little caravel down to a summer island about halfway through the Grand Line, and by that time Sabo has taken a leave of absence from the Army to join him. They’re close now. They’re so close. 

Wait for me, Ace would beg him if he could, wondering if this was how Luffy felt all those times his big brothers ran ahead and left him behind. 

———

Ace never knew how heavy a heart could be when he was a child, a half-feral, angry, touch-starved thing. But now his heart is full—now it bursts at the seams, spills through his ribcage, until there’s no part of him that isn’t touched by it—and it’s the heaviest thing he’s ever carried. 

A precious burden. He’s twice the man he would have been without it. He will never, not one time in his life ever, entertain the idea of putting it down. 

But gods, Ace thinks, it would be easier, so much easier, to rip the stupid thing out of his chest and walk around a hollow shell of someone once-loved than it would be to stand here for one more minute and look down at his baby brother looking up at him like he’s a total stranger. 

“Who’s this guy?” a blond man behind Luffy mutters. With the touseled hair hanging in an artful curtain over half his face and the cigarette between his teeth and the well-cut linen suit that makes it very clear he never skips leg day, blondie gives off an air of Do Not Fuck With Me just by breathing in a way that reminds Ace of Sabo at that age. 

The swordsman beside him, called Roronoa Zoro on his bounty poster, is scowling outright, gray eyes sharp, ready at any moment to leap over Luffy like a faithful hound and dig into Ace with his teeth the second he presents as danger. 

It makes Ace feel kind of nostalgic, like he’s looking at an old photo of himself. 

He tries to focus on the nostalgic feeling, because all the rest of his brain is drowning in guilt and grief. 

Somehow, he wasn’t prepared for this moment. Years of searching, nearly half his life, and he’s finally standing in front of the person whose absence tore a hole clean out of his whole future, and he has no idea what to say. 

You look well, springs to mind, because Luffy does. His hair and skin and eyes are all different shades of brown that gleam with good health under the desert sun. He’s still skinny, but not in the waifish, underfed way of all the Gray Terminal kids. He looks like he’s been eating well. It settles something in Ace’s heart in the one tiny corner of it that isn’t breaking. 

I should have been there, is the next-most immediate thought, and it almost takes Ace’s knees out from under him. He should have been there to make sure Luffy ate well. He should have been there to save him from the fire, to help him recover from the smoke sickness, to hold him when he cried in his sleep and to take his hand when he wandered aimlessly around the village with no one to play with and nothing to look forward to. 

I’m sorry I left you, is what it boils down to, what Ace has held close and carved into his heart over the years, hating himself, hating the child he was who thought he knew better, who thought he could conquer everything without losing anything. I never should have left you. 

But Luffy doesn’t know him from any other person in this busy marketplace, his head tilting to one side like a curious little bird’s, and Ace can’t think of anything to say to him that he’ll understand. 

He needs Sabo. He’s about to become a walking fire hazard, and he’s about to mess this whole thing up, this reunion that was almost a decade in the making. Luffy’s two friends are eyeing him with mounting suspicion the longer he stands there and stares at their captain, every line of their body still the way a predator’s body stills in preparation for a pounce. Luffy, for his part, is still engaged, but only barely. His interest is slipping away—there are too many sights and smells and things bustling all around for him to want to stand still for a gawking stranger that doesn’t even have anything exciting to say.

His little brother. Crybaby Luffy. The boy who crawled under Ace’s blanket when their treehouse quaked in a storm, who held Sabo’s hand when they stayed out too late and walked home through the jungle in the dark. He’s a pirate now, a Wanted person, with a crew and a ship all his own, and he got this far without them. The last time Ace saw him was that last night in the Gray Terminal, when Ace was being mean on purpose to make sure Luffy stayed away from certain danger. 

It occurs to Ace, for the very first time, that Luffy doesn't need him anymore. That tiny seven year old grew up. 

“I saw you in the paper,” he finally says, making a concentrated effort to sound like a human being. “You’re pretty cool.”

Luffy brightens immediately. “Yeah? Are you a pirate, too?”

“I am. Made a promise to my brothers when I was a kid that we’d sail the seas together one day.”

“Wow!” Luffy says, suitably impressed. “We made a promise like that, too.” He loops both his arms through one of Blondie’s and one of Roronoa’s. “We decided way back when we were little that we were gonna stick together and become the pirate king, and the greatest swordsman, and the man who discovers All Blue!”

So one of his two guard dogs must be the little kitchen boy from The Orbit who spirited Luffy away from Foosha. The other must have come along not much later if they were all children together. Ace wants to hear the story so badly he has to clench his jaw to keep from asking. He wants to hear about everything. 

Instead, ignoring the way Roronoa’s hand closes around the hilt of one of his swords, Ace reaches out and flicks the brim of Luffy’s hat so that it slips backwards off his head. Luffy squawks, and tries to free his arms in time to catch it, and then freezes in place at the touch to his hair.

Ace ruffles it fondly, muscle memory that hasn’t corroded even after a decade, and says what he should have said the first time that sunshine child in a worn straw hat shared a wild, impossible wish; 

“I hope I’m there to see it when all those dreams of yours come true.”

If he had stayed a second longer, he would have seen the way Luffy mirrored Ace’s touch with his own fingers, frozen in place. 

Instead, Ace has officially reached his emotional threshold, and formally retreats to find his twin. They take turns being the stable one and Ace is calling dibs on being a basket case for the next month. Masked Deuce is just going to have to deal. 

Sabo got back to their meeting spot first, an outdoor table outside a tavern that hasn’t yet opened for the day, and already has their map rolled out and pinned down at the corners by various junk from their luggage. He’s marking something down and calls over a distracted hello, and Ace bleakly replies, “I found him.”

His tone is all wrong for the remarkably momentous occasion he’s announcing, so it’s not really Sabo’s fault that it doesn’t click right away. Sabo says, “Found who?” and Ace just looks at him with all his helplessness and weariness plain on his face, and Sabo drags an ink mark all across Sandy Island on the map as he whirls around and says, “You found him?” 

“It’s not going to be how we thought,” Ace says, trying to manage his brother’s expectations. They share everything, but Ace would keep this heartbreak to himself if he knew how. “It’s—I think we took too long.”

“What do you mean?” Sabo asks, hands clenching into fists and unclenching. The fountain pen is dripping ink, ruining the fine leather of his left glove. 

“He didn’t know me. I knew he wouldn’t, not really, but he—he didn’t recognize me at all,” Ace tries to explain. He feels stupid and childish and ungrateful, but really he just has no idea what to do. Luffy doesn’t know him and doesn’t need him and how is he supposed to fill a place in that kid’s life that doesn’t exist anymore? “We’ll have to—to start over from scratch, but how? How are we supposed to make someone like Luffy care about people like us? He’s sunshine personified, and deserves to have everything he wants and the best this shitty world has to offer, and we’re just—two selfish idiots who couldn’t even take care of one little kid between the two of us.” The awful truth, delivered quietly: “Luffy doesn’t need us anymore. I can’t see why he’d want us around now.”

Sabo is watching him like something carved from marble. Ace would never tell him, because it would hurt his feelings in a way nothing else ever could, but there are times when Sabo looks every bit the nobleman his biological family wanted him to be. The line of his jaw and the fall of his hair and his deep set eyes are regal, especially when he’s focused, when he’s working through a problem, when he’s the last sane voice in a room and he’s waiting for the morons wasting his time to run out of breath. 

And then his eyes flicker past Ace’s shoulder, and his expression transforms. The breath leaves him in a rush like it was punched out of him, his lips parting, blue eyes widening in a way that seems to shave whole years from his face. 

Something causes him, impossibly, incongruously, to smile. 

“Would you put money on that?” he asks. 

“What? Yes,” Ace says, thrown off by the inappropriate lightness of his tone. He feels himself start to bristle defensively. “Are you even paying attention?” 

“One of us has to,” Sabo says, only smiling wider, and Ace feels sparks falling off his fingers in sheer aggravation as he turns around to see what is so—

He has three seconds at most to take in the sight of Luffy hurtling up the hill at top speed. It’s been years and years, but three seconds is all he needs. His arms remember how to reach out and catch him. 

“I waited where you left me, but you never came back!” Luffy shouts. “You can’t be mad! I waited and waited, and then I went out to find you instead! I didn’t remember you but I had to find you! I still don’t—I still don’t know some things—but I know it’s your fault for taking too long!” 

Sabo lurches over and Luffy’s rubbery hug wraps around them both and Ace is too shell-shocked by the last minute to do anything but hug back. 

Luffy shoves his face in Ace’s shoulder, and there’s a hot, wet smear of tears there. It gives away that Straw Hat Luffy, the pirate captain worth thirty million berries, is maybe not as grown-up as Ace had initially feared. 

Sabo presses his face against the crown of Luffy’s head, too overcome to do anything but hold him. The regal young man from moments ago is long gone. The one standing here with them is that street-rat from Dawn who knew the best places to steal food from, who always made sure they never went hungry, who once shrugged off his fine winter coat at the market and traded it to a vendor for a pair of sturdy boots for Ace and thick woolen mittens for Luffy. He had shivered all the way home, where there was an extra coat in the treehouse he could use, until Luffy had the bright idea that they should all bundle into Ace’s oversized cloak together for warmth and whined until Ace agreed just to shut him up. That had been the most annoying hike up Mount Colubo in history. It’s a memory that Ace cherishes beyond reason. 

Ace whispers, “Of course I’m not mad, Lu.” It’s been ages since he was that hostile, hateful little thing who would take a bite out of anything that dared to show its soft underbelly to him. He presses as close as he can, cheek to cheek with this piece of his family that’s gone missing for far too long, and adds, “You’ve never been obedient a day in your life. If I expected anything different, that’s on me.”

Luffy laughs, and it’s snotty and choked and pure music to Ace’s ears. The kid worms closer, makes himself smaller, and lets himself be held. 

He doesn’t need his brothers. His shoulders are broad, and his arms are solid and strong. He’s already made a name for himself, and even now those two friends of his are lingering watchfully further down the road—far enough away to give the respectful illusion of privacy, near enough to make Ace and Sabo’s day a living hell if they try anything fishy. It’s probably been a long time since he’s needed someone to hold his hand or carry him home. 

But if, by some insane, undeserved miracle, Luffy still wants them…

It’s enough. It’s more than enough. It’s more than Ace has had in ten years. 

What one piece? he thinks, arms full and aching. I’ve got it all right here. 

[plantwithoutplot]

ASL Brothers sketch art

Chapter 7 of Speak Up, Boys!

[chenziee]

Shortly after Ace starts dating Marco in a modern AU, Luffy is chatting with Sabo about his latest E.R. trip when when he goes "Actually, Pinapple man was there and--"

Sabo is completely confused for a moment, until Luffy notices and clarifies, "You know that guy. I forget his name. That pinapple guy. Ace brought him to BBQ last week."

It takes Sabo a full minute to process that Luffy just called Ace's boyfriend, the department head of the university hospital, 'that pinapple guy' but when he does... he laughs. He laughs and laughs to the point of tears; he can't remember the last time he laughed quite this much.

He keeps bursting into snickers when he rushes to the store right after.

When Ace gets home that night, there is a pineapple sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, complete with googly eyes and fake glases glued on--as well as having its own plate and cuttlery set out before it, ready to get its own serving of dinner.

Ace doesn't have to look at the name tag that reads "Marco, that pineapple guy" that is hanging on lanyard that's tangled in its leaves before he, too, starts laughing until tears are streaming down his face.

A photo of Marco the Pineapple is set as Marco the Human's contact photo before dinner is even served.

Marco the Pinapple sits at the table for a few days but after a Straw Hats visit, it is deemed that he is taking up too much space and is relocated to the living room, his new home being the top of a cabinet.

By the time Marco the Human visits the ASL household about a month later, Marco the Pineapple is pretty much a family member.

Marco doesn't notice the random pineapple at first--the pineapple that is now wearing a tiny lab coat and a stethoscope--until Ace's cat, Kotatsu, jumps on that particular cabinet.

It's only when Sabo's warning hiss of, "Kotatsu, you know you can't touch Marco, don't you dare" draws his attention that he notices the cat wasn't about to start wrestling with his ankles.

Instead, he was sitting next to the decorated pineapple and staring straight at Sabo as if to tell him to try and stop him.

Marco isn't sure if he's ever been faced with a sight so bizzare... but he would be lying if he said he didn't find it hilarious.

Ace gifts him Marco the Pineapple Jr. to keep on his desk at work.

And Marco loves it.

[whereserpentswalk]

The amount of weird hand movements in byzantine religious art has given me a worldbuilding idea: angels and other creatures build directly by the gods communicate through sign language. They have no concept of spoken language as the sounds they make are basically weapons. Their writing system is closer to a series of purely symbolic drawings then linear writing. This sign language is adopted by magic users but because most of them don't actually know the language enough to speak it it's twisted into something that's sort of a sign language version of alchemical symbols, this is where the hand signs wizards make come from.