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elyvorg · 3 months

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Kieran Part 2: It’s All About YOU

Well, looks like The Indigo Disk didn’t remotely drop the ball – it caught it in incredible style! Pokémon’s best character-writing job yet has been followed up and capped off with, if anything, something even better. Kieran is far and away the most complex and well-written character that mainline Pokémon has ever achieved, and I am here to talk about the second half of why this is, in very great detail. Consider me just, blown away. I have So Many Feelings about this boy.

This is of course a follow-up to my earlier analysis post about Kieran’s character and arc during The Teal Mask, which you can find here. Reading that before this is recommended!

(This will contain a couple of brief references to some post-epilogue lines, so if you haven’t got to that stuff yet and you really care about seeing it completely fresh, you might want to hold off on reading this for now. But there’s no actual spoilers for the epilogue itself in here, because, whoops, I think I’m gonna have to cover all of that in yet another post of its own.)

(Like last time, I will be largely referring to the player character as “you” for convenience, although I may shift into third person occasionally when I’m talking about the vague implications of a personality that they are given, since that’s a little more relevant this time.)

The gaping pit of inferiority

First, though, before getting into The Indigo Disk, I want to re-establish where Kieran’s character ended up at the end of Teal Mask, now that I have a clearer idea of exactly how that relates to where things are headed.

Kieran was always gripped by an aching inferiority complex, one too huge and unbearable for him to ever face directly. Prior to Teal Mask, he’d coped with that by clinging to the figure of the ogre as an ideal of strength. He imagined that maybe one day if he managed to grow strong enough to be just like it, the ogre would acknowledge him and be his friend – and that would finally mean that he mattered and he really was strong after all. He finally wouldn’t have to deal with the crushing pain of his inferiority complex any more.

But then, of course, you swept in with your amazingly perfect protagonist strength, ripping away Kieran’s chance of ever befriending Ogerpon and doing so in the most tragically agonising way possible that only seemed to validate and hammer home to him just how hopelessly weak he really is. Left with nothing but an even bigger gaping pit of inferiority inside him, and no longer able to cling to the idea of Ogerpon as a way for him to one day escape it, the only thing Kieran could do in order to cope was find something else to latch onto: you.

You became a greater ideal of strength to Kieran than even Ogerpon ever was during the events of Teal Mask, so now he’s hung everything on the thought of making himself strong enough to prove he’s just as good as you. If he can become strong enough to beat you, surely that of all things will be enough to prove that he matters and isn’t weak at all. It’s the only thing he can conceive of that might just free him from the grip of his terrifyingly massive inferiority complex, and he’s clinging onto it for dear life, striving for it to the point of obsession.

I saw a lot of people talk in the lead-up to this DLC like it was going to be about Kieran wanting revenge on you, but that’s not remotely it. He isn’t even able to comprehend the idea that anything you did to him could be considered wrong in the first place; that’s just how things were meant to go when you’re strong and he’s weak, right? Even though it was you who took everything away from him and made him feel so crushingly inferior, that pales in his mind next to how incredibly strong you are and how badly he needs to be like that himself. This isn’t even about him getting another shot at winning over Ogerpon, either – as much as you having become her trainer is a huge source of pain and jealousy for him, he seems to have pretty much accepted that there’s no changing that now.

What Kieran actually, consciously wants out of all this is… well, it’s extremely vague and nebulous, but that’s precisely the point, because there is no rationality involved in any of it. What is he really hoping to gain from it, when (if) he beats you? For you to decide to be his friend after all? For him to instantly become happy and finally feel strong? For him to magically turn into you and have all the good things you have that he envies about you? Obviously none of those things would necessarily happen, but Kieran is not consciously thinking any of this through to its logical endpoint. He’s not actually hoping to get a specific Thing out of beating you – he just desperately, indescribably feels like he needs to beat you, more than anything else in the world.

What Kieran really needs out of this deep down is for you, this person he’s warped himself into idolising as the Strongest Most Perfect Person Ever, to acknowledge him and his strength. It’s just like he wanted Ogerpon to acknowledge him before, shifted onto a new target of idolisation and grown far more desperately obsessive. If you of all people acknowledged him, then just maybe it might actually be true that he really is strong and worth something after all. At its most fundamental level, Kieran has always just deeply needed to gain a sense of self-worth, and yet his self-esteem is so horribly low that he’s basically incapable of doing so on his own without outside validation. But I really don’t think he’s aware on a conscious level that this is what he needs and what he’s striving to get out of all this.

(And of course there’s no way you’d ever acknowledge him and his worth as a person anyway, right? He thought you’d maybe done that when you called him a friend back in Kitakami, but any fleeting hope of gaining self-worth that way evaporated when you went and lied to him, validating his fears that obviously you’d couldn’t possibly have meant it. After all, why would someone as strong as you ever want to be friends with someone weak like him? The only way you’d ever possibly acknowledge his worth is if he conclusively proved that he’s even stronger than you, by defeating you in battle.)

Blueberry Academy

The other thing I want to do before getting into the events of The Indigo Disk itself is to re-evaluate a few assumptions I made about Blueberry Academy in the previous post, now that we’ve actually seen it for ourselves.

I was assuming that a significant part of the reason for Kieran’s inferiority complex was due to him being bullied at Blueberry, but… there’s absolutely zero indication from any of the NPC dialogue that any such thing happened. If the writers wanted this to be a fact that was relevant to Kieran’s character, they absolutely would have put something in. However, in hindsight, I realise that maybe I was primed to assume a bullying problem at Blueberry due to the Team Star storyline, when actually, Kieran being bullied there doesn’t necessarily fit. His issues about being shunned and his paranoia that people are laughing at him behind his back are so ingrained that they have to have originated from quite a while ago in his childhood – and he’s only a first-year at Blueberry.

So, scratch that part of the previous post: Kieran was not bullied at Blueberry Academy, but he was almost certainly bullied earlier on in his childhood, at whatever school(s) he attended beforehand. It wouldn’t necessarily have needed to be a really overt, physical kind of bullying either – that’s the sort of thing that Carmine would certainly have noticed and protected him from. But even something more low-key like being constantly left out of things and looked down on by others would have left a huge psychological mark on him, and would have probably been too subtle for his socially oblivious sister to do much about. (Or, in some ways, she might just have made such things worse by being so fiercely overprotective of him. Most people wouldn’t want to go near the kid with the Scary Big Sister who’ll bite their head off if they so much as look at him wrong.)

Bullying aside, I was looking for any kind of clues at all from the NPCs as to what Kieran was like at Blueberry Academy before his big change… and there’s almost nothing. Plenty of people comment on Kieran now, because everyone knows who he is as the Champion, but nobody shows surprise that it was this timid kid who rose up and beat Drayton. It seems that as far as most of the students are concerned, he just came out of nowhere. But maybe that’s the point; maybe almost nobody ever even noticed him or thought anything of him at all until he grew stronger. By the time he joined Blueberry Academy, Kieran’s default coping mechanism must have been to make himself as small and invisible as possible, so that basically nobody even really thought twice about him.

Only two whole NPCs actually make any kind of reference to what Kieran was like before he became Champion. (Well, other than Carmine, of course, and also discounting Amarys because she’d have only known Kieran through her friendship with his sister.) One of them is Drayton, who’d noticed him as the incredibly shy kid who nonetheless lit up with joy more than anyone else when watching battles. And then there is one random NPC you can find in the Central Plaza who comments on how Kieran has turned into a completely different person. That’s it. Only two people happened to have noticed this timid kid enough to realise he’s the same guy who suddenly became Champion. (And, while they both seem at least a little concerned, neither of them appear to have outright considered Kieran a friend, because of course not. You really were the first friend he’d ever managed to make, until everything went horribly wrong.)

One thing I was expecting to get from the vibe at Blueberry that it absolutely did deliver, mind you, was the culture around battling. There’s all sorts of talk about battling and getting stronger, double battles as standard to make things more strategic, and even the random NPC trainers can actually be kind of challenging. So I was definitely right that this culture must have contributed to Kieran fixating on getting stronger and proving himself to you through gaining more battling strength in particular. One NPC near the entrance also remarks that “you don’t look strong”, as if people here assume battling strength to be correlated with physical appearance, which… yeah, that explains a bit about why Kieran felt he needed to look different alongside becoming stronger in battle, doesn’t it.

Changing himself

Of course, Kieran’s reasons for changing up his appearance go much deeper than just wanting to superficially “look stronger”. In order to achieve the nigh-impossible feat of managing to match you in strength, he felt like he had to become nothing short of a completely different person. He can’t be anything like that timid, weak, pathetic kid from Kitakami who got walked all over, because there’s no way that kid would ever, ever be able to beat you.

Which means that absolutely everything about who he used to be needed to get thrown away. That hairstyle that practically covered his face and let him hide himself behind it? Gone. His country accent and way of talking due to being raised in Kitakami? That always made him feel different and outcast among the students at Blueberry already, but more than that, it’s a distinctive feature of that kid he used to be and cannot be any more, so he had to cast it away and learn to mask it. Even the unambiguously good parts of him – the way he’d always get so excited and passionate over things he finds cool! – they’re a part of his old self, so they had to go, no exceptions. Far be it from him to ever say “wowzers” any more, for more than one reason. His old hairstyle may have been the one that visually resembled a mask, but now he’s putting on much more of a metaphorical mask than he ever was before. (Putting on a mask to become stronger and hide his reasons to be cast out and shunned – a bit like a certain ogre.)

(And since Kieran’s just on the cusp of puberty, I find it fun to imagine that maybe his voice happened to start breaking in the interim between the two DLCs, so that he doesn’t just talk differently and mask his accent, his voice literally sounds different now compared to how it did before.)

Unfortunately for Kieran, no amount of fervently doing everything in his power to change and grow stronger can make his growth spurt come any sooner. It seems it hasn’t happened quite yet, leaving him awkwardly still the smallest person in the room even as he is trying to project an air of being Strong and Tough now. He gets around this as best he can by adopting a mannerism of taking a step back from people, to give him less of an angle to look up at, and tilting his head far enough back that he can kinda sorta still be looking down on them, in a sense. He is so desperate to not feel small any more.

(Fittingly – or ironically, perhaps – you are the one relevant person who is the same height as Kieran and can face him eye-to-eye. That’s bound to be feeding into his complex about you: all the other people he looked up to and saw as stronger than him were older than him and so they had a good reason to be that strong – but you and he are the same age. You should be his equal, and yet you can already do and have all these things that he could only dream of.)

And his timid demeanour isn’t the only thing from before that Kieran cast away – he also got rid of almost his entire team of Pokémon from those battles back in Kitakami. Nearly all of them went the same way as poor Furret and Cramorant before them, because they weren’t strong enough to win him that vital battle that would definitely have decided who got to become Ogerpon’s partner (right?), so there’s no way they’d ever be able to help him beat you now. The only exception to this is Dipplin, perhaps precisely because Kieran knew it was capable of evolving again and so still had more strength it had yet to show him. The rest of his team got completely overhauled, no doubt informed by his fervent studies in battling strategies to let him put together the strongest and most optimal team he could come up with.

I nearly had a whole spiel here about how excruciating it is that his new team has a Politoed, in that he could almost have kept another of his old partners from his Kitakami team if he hadn’t hastily evolved Poliwhirl into the less strategically-optimal evolution as part of his efforts to prove himself to you during Teal Mask. Except, actually, a postgame line implies that Kieran’s Politoed is also a longtime partner of his, along with his Poliwrath, like they’re a pair. So it’s not that he went and caught a “replacement” Poliwag that he was less attached to – apparently he always had two Poliwag friends from the start and just only ever trained up one of them to use against you in Teal Mask. Then, when that one had failed to be good enough for him, it was the other one’s turn to prove how strong it could really be.

As for his other new team members: Porygon-Z and Incineroar are both available in the Terarium, but Grimmsnarl is only available, to Kieran at least, in Kitakami. So that must be another one he’d caught during the school trip, maybe a candidate he’d considered training up back then but never quite had the time to alongside the rest of his team. And then there’s Dragonite, which is an interesting one, because the Dratini line is nowhere in either Kitakami or the Terarium – meaning, Kieran must have gone out of his way to trade for it in order to get one. Perhaps he was really impressed by the strength of Drayton’s Dragonite and wanted one of his own to match that? (but his has a very different build to Drayton’s, so it’s fine, he’s definitely not just copying Drayton in order to win, okay.) I like to think that maybe he got it from Carmine, who’d apparently been visiting loads of other regions with Briar during Kieran’s obsessive training arc and therefore could have been in a position to catch a Dratini.

More importantly than just catching these new Pokémon, though, would have been training them, which Kieran threw himself into so obsessively that it and studying battling strategies now consume every single moment he has, to a concerningly unhealthy degree. He’s cutting back on sleep, barely eating proper meals, because spending any more time than necessary on even things like basic physical needs is not acceptable to him. You are so overwhelmingly, impossibly strong in his mind that, in order to match your strength, Kieran feels like he has to give everything, no matter the cost to himself.

Being Champion

And, well, his fervent desperate self-destructive training did indeed make him strong enough to become Champion of the BB League. It’s only a stepping stone, a means to an end for his ultimate goal of being strong enough to beat you – but it’s something. As Champion, Kieran’s known to everyone in the school, getting awed murmurs wherever he shows up. People respect him now, because he’s proven that he's strong. (The very converse of how everyone ignored and shunned him back when he was weak. That’s how it goes, right?) And on top of that, he’s earned himself a position of authority over everyone in the League Club.

…Frankly, it’s a very stupid rule the club has to make the Champion be automatically in charge of the whole thing, precisely because of situations like this, in which the trainer who happens to be strongest also happens to be someone nobody else wants bossing them around. But thanks to that stupid rule existing, Kieran’s in charge now, and everyone else has to do what he says whether they like it or not, because he’s the strongest of all of them. Way to validate and perpetuate Kieran’s toxic worldview that having strength (battling strength) means you get to call the shots and walk all over anybody who’s weaker than you, and that’s just how things work.

Our first glimpse of how drastically Kieran’s changed, the interaction we see him having with that one poor club member, is bound to be the epitome of how he’s been treating everyone in the club these days. And he is not simply being a dick for the hell of it just because he can now and he’s turned Edgy or whatever – everything about his behaviour here is agonisingly rooted in his own deeply ingrained worldview about strength and weakness.

It's so tragically telling how he phrases his scathing disapproval of the poor guy as, “So that means you’re just OK being this weak forever? That what I’m hearing?” That’s not at all what the guy was saying, but Kieran hears it that way because he can’t help but see his own former, weaker self everywhere he looks. At the end of Teal Mask, he was trapped in that horrible pit of feeling like there was nothing he could do except be this weak forever, unless he devoted himself obsessively to becoming stronger and stronger and stronger with everything he had. Any tiny sign of weakness in anybody else reminds him of that place, reminds him that the only reason he’s not trapped there himself right now is because he’s spending every waking moment trying to claw his way out.

The guy’s reason for not completing Kieran’s training assignment wasn’t even that he didn’t want to do it. He said he’d had hectic stuff going on at home that meant he didn’t have time, which ought to be a perfectly reasonable excuse! But… not to Kieran, it isn’t. Kieran has sacrificed everything to become as strong as he is, even basic physical self-care; he would have chosen training over busy home-life stuff in a heartbeat. Anyone who isn’t willing to do the same, anyone to whom growing stronger isn’t the most important thing in the world – they’re not good enough. They must obviously just want to stay weak forever, like Kieran himself absolutely could not bear to be. So he kicks the poor guy out of the club, thus dooming him, in Kieran’s view, to really being stuck this weak forever with no chance to improve.

It's bound to be just like this for everyone else in the club, too, based on plenty of comments we hear about how Kieran becoming Champion has taken the fun out of everything, and the ridiculously strict rules he’s apparently put in place. He’s projecting his own unhealthily high standards of strength onto everyone else, then shunning them if they don’t manage to live up to that, because that’s just what happens to people who are weak, right? It is agonising to watch Kieran perpetuating the exact same toxicity that he used to always feel like he was on the receiving end of, especially as that isn’t even really why he was ever treated that way.

None of this is the behaviour of someone who is even remotely secure and confident in their strength. Despite being Champion and having the respect of the entire school, Kieran is still constantly terrified that even the slightest thing, even so much as allowing a tiny instance of “weakness” in anyone associated with him, will cause all of the strength he’s worked so hard to build to come crashing down in an instant. (One detail I really love about the scene where he’s telling that one guy off is the way Kieran’s tapping his foot at the beginning. He probably means it as a way to express impatience, but really it comes across as incredibly anxious and insecure. The animators did some excellent stuff with Kieran in this DLC.)

And what’s extra heartbreaking is that Kieran doesn’t need to be doing any of this. He’s the Champion now; he is undeniably strong; he’s able to talk to others; people notice and respect him. He is already in a position to reach out and grasp everything he’s ever wanted: acknowledgement, friendship, fun. He used to love battling – he’s supposed to love battling – so he could be having a great time with all this! If he just dropped this toxic mindset and stopped letting it turn him into a massive jerk, he could make friends with the Elite Four and others in the League Club and not be alone any more!

But he’s not able to see any of that. None of the things he’s already genuinely gained for himself truly feel like they matter, not when they’re all just a means to an end for the one thing that does – proving he can beat you. By desperately hanging his entire self-worth on the idea of becoming strong enough to measure up to you and nobody else, Kieran has blinded himself to the fact that he’s already found a good amount of what he’d always truly wanted in the first place. And it also means that, if he can’t beat you when that day comes, everything he’s done will be for nothing.

Drayton and Carmine

But although nobody is happy with the way things are now (least of all Kieran himself), it seems only a couple of people have been willing to question Kieran’s “authority” enough to try and talk him out of this.

One of them is Drayton, who’s doing this not just out of wanting his club to go back to normal, but also because he’s the almost-only person to have noticed the timid yet battle-loving kid Kieran used to be, and he genuinely wants to help Kieran remember how to have fun like that again. Unfortunately, it seems that any of Drayton’s attempts to tell him this bounced right off Kieran, because fun and excitement were a part of that weak kid he used to be and absolutely cannot be any more.

Plus, with his newfound authority and validation of his toxic worldview, Kieran would easily be able to brush off anything Drayton said to him with the excuse that he doesn’t have to listen to someone who can’t beat him. He actually mentions at one point that Drayton “always loses” to him, implying they’ve battled more than once. Apparently, in an attempt to get Kieran to listen, Drayton actually went and challenged him to a rematch at some point, or maybe even several – a remarkable amount of effort, coming from Drayton – but he still couldn’t win.

(Kieran is bound to be super jealous of the way Drayton appears so effortless in his strength, when Kieran himself had to train and strive so hard to reach this level. But on the flip side, now that Kieran is the stronger one, he can use Drayton’s laziness as another way to paint himself as superior. Obviously the reason Drayton keeps losing to him is because he doesn’t train nearly as hard as Kieran does.)

It also doesn’t help that Drayton’s attitude towards Kieran when he’s not specifically trying to encourage him to have fun again is very sarcastic and condescending, drawing from his deep frustration at Kieran’s attitude. It must be very easy for Kieran to completely overlook the part where Drayton is actually doing this because he cares – he probably feels that Drayton just hates him and wants him gone. (Just like everyone who’d always shun him and treat him like an outcast before, right.)

Then there’s Carmine, who’s been incredibly worried about the change in her brother and is bound to have done her fair share of trying to talk him out of this too, evidently also to no effect. It’s certainly easy for Kieran to remain oblivious to the fact that she’s doing this because she cares about him and isn’t just trying to bring him down, since she has, uh, historically not been very good at showing that.

It seems that Kieran has largely been avoiding Carmine since he overhauled everything about himself. No doubt a lot of that is because, what with her being part of the reason for his inferiority complex in the first place, she’s capable of triggering his insecurities more intensely than anybody else can. But maybe it’s also partly because on some level, he’s aware that she’s got a point now with the things she’s trying to say to him, and that makes him feel bad, and have doubts that he can’t afford to be having. Carmine’s certainly right to be concerned that his behaviour now would be driving any friends of his away – although she is almost definitely wildly wrong to be assuming Kieran even had any friends other than you before all of this.

(For that matter, she’s very wrong to assume that you are still his friend right now in a totally normal way; ha ha ha. But then, based on your options of “yes” and “yes” when Drayton asks you if you're Kieran's friend, it seems that you – the player character – are also somehow completely oblivious to the fact that Kieran just maybe might not consider you a friend any more on his end. Which just makes this whole thing even more excruciating.)

The dynamic between the siblings during the one brief time we see them interact here has notably changed, in that Kieran is finally able to stand up for himself more, telling Carmine to shut up when she tells him off. And yet, he doesn’t do so very forcefully, averting his gaze in a way that suggests he just sort of mumbles it. He probably realises she has a point about what she was saying – that he shouldn’t act so condescending towards you. Which on Carmine’s end, she said because she doesn’t want him to drive away the one friend he still (supposedly) has, but that’s not how it’d read on Kieran’s end, because he doesn’t believe you ever were his friend at all. He must have felt like his sister has a point only because he doesn’t have the right to act that way towards you, not when he still hasn’t proven himself to you yet (and maybe never will).

Unexpected reunion

See, there’s a lot of interesting stuff going on under the surface of Kieran’s reaction to suddenly meeting you here. Literally everything he’s been doing this entire time has been for the sole purpose of defeating you when he sees you again. Which means that you showing up and challenging the BB League should be exactly what he wants and has always been waiting for. And yet.

The first notable thing is that he had nothing to do with inviting you here – the person responsible for that was Carmine. She probably figured that you’d be able to help her brother out, so she recommended you to the director when she heard he was looking for an exchange student to invite from Paldea. As Champion of the school, Kieran should also have had enough influence to make such a recommendation – but he didn’t.

Then, when Kieran comes to the cafeteria, he has plenty of condescending things to say to Drayton (about how taking a lunch break is a waste of time, because who needs to bother with basic physical needs like eating when they could be training instead, right). But the moment he sees you, he’s just shocked at you even being here… and then he’s very quiet for the entire rest of the conversation.

Drayton puts things to a vote among the Elites plus Kieran as to whether you should be allowed to join the BB League, and – despite that this should be exactly what he wants – Kieran is the last to vote. He only does so when he’s forced to break the tie.

(Although, it’s revealing in a different way that the Elite Four all ask each other for their opinions first, with none of them naturally thinking to consult Kieran. Despite his newfound strength and authority, he is still socially excluded – but this time he really has nobody but himself to blame.)

Kieran’s wording of how he casts his vote is so very telling. Just: “It doesn’t matter who I’m facing… I don’t lose.” – and he says nothing else before leaving in a huff. He words this in a generalised way, as if this an overarching principle of his that has nothing to do with you in particular, even though it’s always been about you. Because if he let himself think about how you in particular will be his opponent, then suddenly the statement that he doesn’t lose doesn’t feel so certain. But, put on the spot like this, he cannot show any sign that he’s afraid he might lose to you – that would be like giving up and accepting that all the effort he’s put in for all this time has been for nothing. So he has no choice but to let you join.

(Drayton totally knew he would refuse to lose face like this if put on the spot, of course, and that the Elites would vote 2-2 between them and leave Kieran with the deciding vote, which is precisely why he set things up this way. Kieran’s not unaware of this, either.)

There’s a brief interim here as you head to the front desk to officially sign up for the League. This gives Kieran a moment alone to process the fact that, welp, this really is happening, you’re really here, and, isn’t this supposed to be exactly what he always wanted? Hasn’t everything always been so that he can beat you this time? He manages to twist things around in his head, convince himself that yes, this is it, the chance he’s been waiting for, and he will win when it comes down to it, he will, because that’s what it’s all been for.

As such, when he shows up at the front desk to confirm that he’s allowing you to join, Kieran is able to be a lot more direct about you challenging him than he was in his one whole sentence on the topic in the cafeteria. Even then, he makes a comment to Drayton about how he feels like he was manipulated into this… then immediately insists that he’s fine with it because this is what he wanted anyway. If it was truly 100% what he wanted, he wouldn’t have felt manipulated!

To sum all of this up: it is abundantly, delightfully clear beneath the surface that Kieran does not actually feel ready to face you. He would never have felt ready for this, no matter how long he’d spent training and pushing himself, because your impossible unreachable strength and his own inherent worthlessness are both so deeply ingrained in his mind that he is incapable of truly believing he can match you.

But, well, here you are, and now Drayton’s trapped Kieran in this situation where he has no choice but to keep up the mask of strength and confidence he’s been putting on all this time. So he’s got to act like he’s fine with you challenging him, whether he truly feels ready or not.

Your Elite Four challenge

As you work your way through the Elite Four’s ranks to earn the right to challenge him, Kieran is very insistent that you’d better not dare lose to anybody else before facing him, or to have gotten weaker in any way since he last met you.

You might think that Kieran would be glad if you actually did lose to one of the Elite Four and never manage to make it to him, because, hey, that means he’s already stronger than you! He doesn’t even have to worry about whether he can win his battle against you! But… no, that wouldn’t be how it’s supposed to go. The way Kieran’s been building things up in his head the entire time, his whole life is supposed to magically somehow get better when he beats you. He needs to prove himself and his new strength to you, specifically. It wouldn’t mean anything if someone else beat you first, or if you’re somehow not actually still the impossibly strong person he’s idolised and fixated so hard on becoming equal to. That’d just be the most crushing anticlimax for him, in which he never gets to achieve what he’s been striving so hard for, and in which he’d have to somehow come to terms with the fact that… he’s already stronger than you, and yet he still doesn’t feel better or any less agonisingly inferior than he always did? If that happened, he’d be at a complete loss as to any other way to escape how he feels about himself.

But, fortunately for him (for some value of “fortunate”), you of course still are just as strong as you always were. On hearing you assure him of this, and also on seeing it for himself as he watches one of your Elite Four battles, Kieran gives this awful twisted grin that does not even slightly reach his eyes (because he has completely forgotten how to genuinely smile and no doubt hasn’t ever done so this entire time). Yes, he will still get to have his long-anticipated showdown with you, and winning that will still somehow magically definitely fix everything that was ever wrong in his life. Definitely.

There’s also the part where, because you come with such glowing recommendations, you get to skip working your way up the BB League from the very bottom and can start right at challenging the Elite Four. Kieran has to feel all kinds of ways about this – on the one hand, he’d tell himself he’s glad because this means he has less time to wait until the battle that he’s definitely totally ready for, and he knows full well that you wouldn’t need to waste your time on small fry at the bottom. But on the other hand… he had to painstakingly work his way all the way up from zero in order to get where he is, so it sure is something that you’re so special that you just get to skip doing that. (And if you did have to start at the bottom, then it’d give him more time to train himself, just to make absolutely sure that he really is ready to face you…)

When you’ve beaten the final Elite, Kieran shows up again and scoffs that this was kind of slow for you, wasn’t it? I believe this isn’t just posturing and was his genuine reaction – you’re so impossibly perfect in his mind that he can’t even comprehend the idea that you wouldn’t breeze through this effortlessly without a single hitch. But still, at least he can turn the fact that you fell short of his impossible expectations into condescension that helps him feel above you and definitely capable of beating you. (How long did it take him to beat the Elite Four, I wonder? Probably longer than you – but of course he’s not gonna bring that up.)

Drayton, meanwhile, has now picked up on the fact that Kieran isn’t just obsessed with winning like he’d initially thought – he’s obsessed with you. Maybe he’d have approached things a little differently if he’d been aware in the beginning that you were a lot more to Kieran than just an old friend. But, welp, bit too late to back out of what he’s set up now, whoops.

And on Kieran’s end, he hasn’t let go of the feeling of being manipulated into this, and now feels like you and Drayton are plotting against him. This poor kid’s paranoia and tendency to assume people are laughing at him behind his back has still not gone away, even if it’s taken on a slightly different form now. It’s probably a good thing he doesn’t ever learn that Carmine was the one who called you here, or he’d think she was in on this supposed conspiracy too.

(But, hey, while Kieran could never do anything about it before whenever he was ganged up on and shunned by others, at least now he’s finally strong enough to fight back and hold his own, despite being outnumbered, right? Just like the ogre did.)

THE BATTLE

So now, it’s finally time: the battle that Kieran has absolutely everything riding on. Of course I’ve already made it abundantly clear here that every single thing he’s done has been for the sole goal of beating you right here and now – but it says a lot that he spends his pre-battle speech making sure you know this. He probably feels like you’re such an amazing superstar trainer that challenging someone for their Champion title is basically just another Tuesday for you, like this is nothing on your end – but this battle is everything for him, everything that he’s been spending every single moment of every single day building up towards for all this time, and he needs you to acknowledge this.

And as if that wasn’t enough, as the battle opens, Kieran screams into the sky with the sheer uncontainable emotion of how much this means to him. Everything he’s been feeling, bottling up, clinging to for so long is spilling out of him now that he’s finally here in this one pivotal moment he’s always been waiting for.

It comes spilling out in a lot more than just that scream, too; he has so many things to say throughout the battle as it all reaches fever pitch inside him. While some of his in-battle dialogue during his Teal Mask fights had fun hints at his issues in there, this one battle here absolutely takes the cake. This is quite possibly the most dialogue in any battle in any Pokémon game, and all of it has something interesting and nuanced going on that’s rooted in Kieran’s massive issues. I cannot resist taking this opportunity to talk about every single bit of it.

His first line as the battle begins is, “I know I’m making the right choice… You’ll understand that soon enough!”, which seems kind of odd on the surface. What “choice” is he even talking about that he feels the need to justify? Accepting a challenge to his Champion position is just what Champions are meant to do. But that’s not what Kieran’s thinking about here – he’s thinking about all of those times that Drayton and Carmine tried to talk him down from the entire way he was acting and pushing himself too hard. Every time they did, he insisted to himself that no, training this insanely hard is the right choice, he needs to do this, and it’ll all be worth it when he beats you. …Somehow. Definitely. You’ll see, you will, you have to…!

On the very first hit he lands on you – it doesn’t even need to be super-effective, any damaging hit will trigger it – he says, “How do you like that? See how hard I’ve trained? Not like that kid you battled in Kitakami, huh?!” In reality, the hit he lands here isn’t necessarily any bigger than the kinds of hits he dealt to you back in Kitakami – but it feels bigger to Kieran. He’s trained so hard that he feels so much stronger and so different from the kid he was back then, and he needs you to see and acknowledge this too.

Meanwhile, your first super-effective attack you land on him manages to pierce through his mask for a moment and get a “wowzers” out of him. It’s not actually any more impressive than any other super-effective hit he might receive from any other trainer – but because it’s coming from you, it feels so much more incredible, triggering his instinctive irrational idolisation of you just for a moment before he collects himself and puts his mask back up.

Then he insists that he’ll still win anyway, even if “the type matchups work out for you”. Which… isn’t how type matchups in battles work? Sure, you landed one super-effective hit, either because one of your Pokémon happened to have a good matchup, or you just had a good coverage move. That doesn’t mean that all of the type matchups in the battle are inherently in your favour. But Kieran apparently feels like they are – because, when it comes to him versus you, he always feels like everything in the world is on your side and he has to claw and grasp to regain the tiniest bit of ground against his inherent overwhelming disadvantage.

Speaking of everything being on your side, when you land your first critical hit on him (and I say “when” here because this battle is long enough that statistically you’re extremely unlikely not to at some point!), his response is delightful, raging that “even luck’s chosen you over me!” and that it’s “not fair!!!” All of his bitterness and jealousy about Ogerpon choosing you over him is still raw, evidently, so even something like you getting a statistically near-inevitable critical hit feels to him like luck itself taking your side against him, because everything always does. And on some level, he may have realised that you befriending Ogerpon was partly due to the sheer luck of you happening to meet her while he wasn’t around, so of course he’s bitter about luck because of that, too. It’s not fair, how you always get everything, so effortlessly, while he has nothing.

(He doesn’t comment at all if and when he lands a critical hit, because of course not. Confirmation bias is one hell of a drug.)

And of course, you bringing out Ogerpon herself gets an extremely strong reaction from Kieran. “You’ve got some nerve,” he snarls among broken mirthless laughter, to bring her out “NOW of all times?!” This, right here and now, was supposed to be his moment, his time to finally shine and show you how strong he is and take the victory. And yet you’re choosing this moment to parade Ogerpon in front of him, a reminder of the painful losses and inferiority he suffered back in Kitakami that he’s tried so hard to forget and overcome by making himself stronger, just rubbing it in his face that you got to have her because you’re so strong and lucky and perfect.

His expression during this line is one hell of a thing as well: shocked and wide-eyed and practically terrified, in stark contrast to all of his other expressions in this fight. He’s not only reeling from the pain of having his inferiority from back then shoved in his face, but also, he’s always believed that Ogerpon is so incredibly strong. If you’re using her against him in this battle, you and her working together… how is he ever going to be able to defeat that combination of impossible strength…?

(Apparently, Kieran’s trainer AI actually has a modification in this fight that makes him prioritise attacking Ogerpon more than an AI trainer otherwise would, which is delightful, I love that that’s a thing devs programmed in there. Of course he’d desperately want to get Ogerpon off the field as fast as he could before she utterly destroys him.)

As his back’s against the wall and he’s sending out his final Pokémon, Kieran’s still raging, with increasing desperation: “Just go down already! How are you still standing after I’ve thrown everything I have at you?!” This battle is not at all going how he’d insistently imagined it would in his head, in which he’d prove himself and win, not even though he’s giving it absolutely everything he has. (And the thought that you still won’t go down even then is terrifying to him. He really has given everything to this, he couldn’t possibly have done more – and yet, what if that still isn’t enough to beat you? That’d mean it’s just impossible for him, no matter what he does, and he’d have absolutely no idea how to cope with that.)

Just before he Terastallises his Hydrapple, he insists that he “doesn’t need the old me”, that he’s changed – here’s the way he felt he had no choice but to throw away everything about his former weaker self in order to get stronger, even the positive parts. But then he adds, “and I’ll show you I can change again!” He’s not just literally referring to the Terastallisation he’s about to do (although it’s thematically fitting that he brings up this topic as he’s doing this – and his Hydrapple’s Fighting Tera-type is a neat link to him having changed himself into being obsessed with strength) – rather, he’s referring to what he’s convinced himself will happen when (if) he wins this fight. That’ll change everything for him, right? That’ll make everything good, finally; he’s going to change for the better once he wins this, he has to…!

And then… Kieran’s animation while he’s Terastallising is an odd one. He’s remarkably expressionless about it, compared to the intensity of his expressions in the entire rest of the fight. But I think the reason for this must be: most trainers wince with the force of it as they begin charging their Tera Orb – and apparently, Kieran doesn’t want to be seen doing that, because that’d make him seem weak. So he’s trained himself to put on an expressionless mask, not even looking at the orb directly, to avoid that. (And one of the few trainers who doesn’t wince, who’s able to stare directly at the dazzling power coming from their Tera Orb without flinching, holding it up for all to see… it’s you, of course. Kieran almost certainly saw this from you a few times back in Kitakami.)

His last possible line in the fight, as he orders an attack from his Hydrapple, at which point he is guaranteed to have only one or two Pokémon left and be desperately fighting to hold on with his back against the wall, includes him saying, “I’m capable of winning too, you know!” Because that is definitely a very normal thing for a reigning Champion to need to say to their challenger. Even with all the victories he’s had on his way here, Kieran still has to fight to convince himself that he is capable of winning, because being up against you and teetering on the brink of defeat like this just reminds him of all his previous agonising losses at your hands, his inferiority complex rising up to overwhelm him with the feeling that he’ll never be able to be strong or win anything at all.

(And, hey… what if he had actually managed to win? Tragically, the game does not let you see any of his reaction if you do happen to lose to him; it just rewinds time like it never happened. But there’s no way that Kieran beating you here would truly have helped or fixed anything about that massive inferiority complex of his. He’d ride the high for a bit, but then he’d go back to the same condescending façade he’d had before and gradually realise that… he doesn’t actually feel any better about himself beneath it like he was supposed to once this happened. Funnily enough, beating you in a Pokémon battle would not have magically turned him into you.)

Everything falls apart

But, of course, because the game refuses to let you not be the Perfect Protagonist (or, perhaps, because the narrative needs to go this way in order for him to actually get better in the long run), Kieran loses. The last time he lost a pivotal battle against you that he’d told himself everything depended on, back in Kitakami, he crumpled immediately in defeat – but this time, his reaction’s a lot more drawn out. Back then, the conviction that he could never ever beat you was right there at the surface to the point that he was basically expecting to lose despite his determination. But here, he’s spent so long insisting to himself over and over that he will win this time, he will, convincing himself that things just have to go that way… that it takes him a moment to even process the fact that they haven’t. He’s just shocked, lost, dumbfounded, not knowing how to react, because this wasn’t supposed to happen…!

But then the spectators around him mutter and begin to leave, apparently because he lost, because he’s no good after all and so there’s no point staying to watch him, and this seems to be what agonisingly drives home the reality to Kieran. All the respect and esteem he’d managed to grasp for himself – in this one awful moment it feels like all of it is crumbling away before his eyes. All of his effort to get here (so much effort) was worthless, all because he couldn’t beat you. He’s gone right back down to being nothing. I adore the blurry effects in the cutscene as Kieran sways and staggers and collapses, giving a visceral sense that the shock of this is hitting him so deep that it's rendered him physically light-headed and dizzy. Guh, this poor kid.

And then Drayton has to come along and rub it in. Kieran winces in agony as he gets smugly called “ex-Champion” – though he was never doing any of this for the Champion title itself, having it meant something and made him matter, and now that’s gone like it was never there at all. It’s bound to sting especially hard coming from Drayton, whom Kieran believed was plotting with you to take him down, take away everything he had, and now that’s exactly what’s happened, because he wasn’t strong enough to stand up for himself after all.

…The fact that Drayton felt the need to be a smug bitch about this first and foremost does not remotely help Kieran actually listen to and internalise the genuinely good advice Drayton gives just a few moments later. He really was doing this because he cares, and because Kieran ought to go back to having fun with things! But of course Kieran isn’t in any state to listen to that, not after all his paranoia about Drayton manipulating him, and then Drayton rubbing his loss in on top of that; he still has no idea that the guy genuinely wants to help him. (Unfortunately, while Drayton cares about the person Kieran should be, he has been deeply frustrated by the person Kieran is being, and that comes out in sarcasm and smuggery first, hence why this completely bombs.)

So instead of taking on board Drayton’s advice, which he probably wasn’t even listening to, Kieran just starts desperately, incoherently mumbling about how he’ll win next time. It’s the only thing he can cling to – the same thing he always has, to escape the all-consuming, unbearable thought of just being achingly inferior forever and ever with no way out. He still can’t see any other way out that isn’t beating you. (But… how is he ever going to win next time, when he’s already given it absolutely everything he had and still couldn’t manage it…?)

Seeing him being so clearly Not Okay, you approach him and (probably) attempt to say something to him, but it seems like even if you try, you barely get any words out before Kieran just shuts down even more. He reacts with slumping, and with an “Aw, man…” – the same words and body language he’d often have back in Teal Mask whenever something (usually his sister) would push back at him and make him feel small. Now that he can no longer cling to his façade that he totally is stronger than you and just hasn’t proven it yet, he’s reverted right back to the state of mind he was always in back then. And it’s you in particular that triggers his inferiority complex harder than anything else right now, even if you just silently approach him, or say a few words that certainly wouldn’t have been anything cruel.

It's a bit of a shame that the game doesn’t actually let us see what you try to say to him, assuming you do. But it most certainly couldn’t have been anything along the lines of “You put up a really tough fight!”, because that kind of thing – acknowledging Kieran’s strength, even though he lost – is exactly what he’d need to hear right now, and he’s clearly not hearing it. Whatever it was you did say, he probably barely even heard it beneath his crushing sense of inferiority at being near you, and you probably trailed off pretty quickly upon seeing his reaction.

(In fact, it might say a lot that your dialogue options here are so non-specific that they’re literally just “Say something/nothing”. This suggests that the player character has no idea what to say to Kieran at seeing him in this absolute state, and they can only choose to either accept that and remain silent, or to fumble for something to try and say anyway. I believe it’s pretty important to “your” role in Kieran’s arc that the player character is extremely socially awkward and just finds themselves utterly lost as to how to deal with him breaking down like this because of them. Someone with better social intelligence would be able to say the right thing here to help him at least begin to feel better! But that someone is emphatically not you, it seems. This apparent social obliviousness also tracks with the fact that you – the player character – agreed with Carmine’s very short-sighted decision to lie to Kieran back in Kitakami, thus unwittingly setting off this whole domino effect of his issues in the first place.)

Sudden legendary hunt

If Kieran had had longer to process his defeat, maybe he’d have realised that there really is no way he can “win next time” when he already gave it his absolute all this time, and he might have begun to approach the fact that there’s nothing he can do but let things go. However, while he’s still reeling, he almost immediately gets dragged into the meeting with Briar about her expedition to Area Zero.

Kieran looks like he’s barely even listening to the conversation at first, just staring miserably into space in front of him, no doubt stuck endlessly thinking how can I ever be stronger than you when everything I had still wasn’t enough??? But then Briar mentions that they’ll get the opportunity to find a legendary Pokémon on this quest – and whoops, now Kieran’s paying attention. Because here’s the answer to his impossible conundrum of how he can beat you next time.

Make no mistake: this is nothing like Ogerpon was to him. He’d been fixated on her and cared about her ever since he was little for deeply personal reasons based on him relating to her situation and projecting onto her. Her strength was part of it, but it wasn’t that he wanted to obtain that strength by catching her; he just admired her strength and wanted to be like her, and if he could, then maybe one day she’d acknowledge that by being his friend (and therefore also incidentally his Pokémon partner). But Terapagos is nothing to Kieran here other than a source of potential strength for him to acquire for himself by capturing it, a tool that will finally let him beat you.

Nonetheless, because this is another legendary Pokémon, Kieran can’t help but draw the surface comparison to Ogerpon anyway and remember the way she chose you over him. He’s probably already imagining that Terapagos might just do the same thing, because you’re so strong and special while he’s nothing – so he tells himself, fervently, that no, he won’t let that happen again, he won’t let this chance go.

He doesn’t ever say as much, but he’s bound to be already having doubts as to if he really could ever capture such an amazing Pokémon. Legendary Pokémon – or really, any Pokémon in general – are supposed to join trainers once they acknowledge their strength; that’s what battles to weaken and capture a wild Pokémon are all about. How is Kieran ever going to get Terapagos to do that for him when he’s so weak? But even so, even if it seems too good to be true, he has to cling to this possibility. It’s the only chance he has left to still just maybe be able to beat you, to continue running away from that gaping pit of inferiority inside him that he doesn’t know how to face.

(A minor nitpick I have with the game’s writing: it’d have been fun here if things had been subtler and Kieran hadn’t outright said that he wants to catch Terapagos at all. His intent would have been very clear regardless for anyone who could read between the lines – I realised what was up the moment he reacted to hearing about a legendary, because Oh No. But nonetheless, it seems like you the player character and also Carmine are both socially oblivious enough to fail to follow Kieran’s stated intent to catch Terapagos through to its obvious conclusion of “he’s still fixated on beating you”. I guess the two of you just assume, oh, hey, he’s found another legendary Pokémon to get excited about, that’s good, that means he must be getting over Ogerpon, right…? Ha. Ha ha ha. If only.)

Journey through Area Zero

As you make your way into and through the depths of Area Zero, Kieran seems to have largely lost hold of the condescendingly superior façade he’d been putting up all this time (after all, he doesn’t have the right to act that way towards you when he’s still weaker than you). This allows a few little hints of his true self to begin to rise to the surface and shine through again, at least a little bit.

He lets slip a “wowzers” on seeing the sheer alien beauty of the place for the first time, and later at the lab he’s so excited at the technology reminding him of a spy movie that he even forgets to mask his accent for a whole sentence. But both times, he’s quick to catch himself and brush it off and act aloof. That excitableness was part of who he used to be, that kid who was weak, and he's still convinced that he can’t afford to be that person any more. But, hey, getting these little reminders that he actually enjoys being his true self and has missed it, at least certain parts of it, has to help! Plus, Carmine seems happy at these moments of him being the little brother she knows and loves again; they have a bit of regular healthy sibling banter; she notices him being considerate about Briar reading someone’s private diary…

These are all good signs that Kieran’s starting to get back to normal, maybe just a little… but, not completely. The spark still isn’t there in his eyes, even when he’s smiling about the cool spy vibe of the lab. Despite the distractions, he’s largely very intent on just getting to the legendary Pokémon and nothing else. And perhaps most relevant of all, he barely says anything of substance to you, even if you try and talk to him.

He does have a notable reaction near the beginning when you mention that you came here last time with some friends of yours. Kieran had probably never quite considered the idea of you having other friends before – Ogerpon did not exactly prime him to imagine that about his idols, after all – but, now that he’s hearing it… of course you’ve got friends. Why wouldn’t you? You have everything, everything he’s always wanted so badly for himself but could never, ever have.

Then, of course, you’re the one who does all the hard work in the Underdepths to deal with the sparkling Pokémon that are blocking the way forwards. For the first one, Carmine almost asks Kieran to take care of it before changing her mind and asking you, which, ouch, that’s got to have stung. (I don’t think she did that to deliberately be unkind, though; it’s probably that she still feels a little weird and uncomfortable about her brother battling, because of the way he’s been, so she’d rather just watch you battle it instead.)

Because of all this, later on Kieran bitterly comments that he feels like everyone’s relying on you too much. Really, the only reason this is the case is because you just happen to be the one who has the lizardbike buddy that can navigate you to the Pokémon you need to defeat… but then, that in itself is another sign of how special and favoured by legendaries you are, isn’t it.

And actually, you’re not necessarily the only one who can reach the sparkling Pokémon! Kieran has a Dragonite, which must have been what he rode on for the flying Elite Four trial, so, in theory, he could go and deal with those sparkling Pokémon himself. But he doesn’t, because you’re already doing it anyway, and he doesn’t feel worthy of taking the spotlight from you. (Or, he could ask to join you on your lizard buddy as you head over there, but ha, even less chance he’s about to do that.)

One bit of optional dialogue Kieran has during this part is insisting that he could totally make quick work of those sparkling Pokémon if only they weren’t so far away. This is very true… but the fact that he never tries to do so despite actually having the ability to reach them himself tells us that his words are just desperate posturing that he doesn’t truly believe. He can’t even register the part where he genuinely has a really strong team of Pokémon that he worked hard to train, because he did all of that for the sole purpose of beating you, and since he couldn’t manage that, that means that none of it matters and he’s just useless.

Then there’s the moment near the end where Carmine tells Kieran it’s his turn to call out to you to let you know the path opened up, but Kieran miserably assumes you’d prefer to hear it from her instead. (As if who tells you that even makes any difference!) Carmine did this to try and begin bridging the gap between you, and she forces him to do it anyway despite his protest, but then when she asks if he’s got anything more to say to you, he just says no. He still doesn’t feel like he’s worthy of even interacting with you in any way at all, still convinced he must be nothing to you.

There’s a heartbreaking hypocrisy to this, too, since he knows you’re perfectly okay interacting with Carmine, and it’s not like she’s ever been able to beat you in battle either. But… but that’s different, right, because she’s already someone who’s strong and cool and worthy of your friendship. In Kieran’s head, he is the single person in the world who is so automatically, inherently worthless that he needs to prove his strength before he is allowed to Matter to you or to anybody.

Outburst at the crystal

As the group reaches the final chamber, Kieran rushes ahead into it and begins pulling at the crystal the moment he figures it even might be Terapagos, because he is so desperate not to lose this chance to anybody else (meaning you). In his urgency, completely oblivious to how messed-up this sentiment is, he blurts out that this’ll mean he can finally beat you, at which Carmine, who failed to realise this was still the reason he was doing all this until now, tries to call him out on it—

—And Kieran can’t stand that; he can’t let her try and take this away from him too on top of everything else, because this feels like the one remaining chance he’ll ever get to still have something and matter next to you. So in a kneejerk attempt to defend why he needs this, everything comes tumbling out. All of those feelings about how you have everything he’s ever wanted, and he has nothing, how he trained so so hard but even that ended up worthless because he still lost to you in the end, so this is all he has left.

(Well, it’s not quite everything that comes spilling out of Kieran here. He doesn’t say anything about why he feels he needs to beat you, and how that’ll totally magically solve everything for him – because there is no actual logic behind that part. There’s nothing he can say to make that make sense, and on some level he must be aware of that, must know it doesn’t, really. But if he admits that, admits that there really isn’t any way at all to escape from his crushing inferiority, then he’ll have nothing left whatsoever, which he cannot bear.)

Hearing Kieran’s outburst about how worthless he feels, Carmine tries to put in a good word for him about how he’s tried his best too – which is good! That’s exactly the kind of thing he needs to hear; she’s finally getting it! But unfortunately, because she herself is one of Kieran’s sore points, in regards to how you magically went and befriended her, he doesn’t properly register what she’s saying. Hearing her speak at all just triggers that thought and spurs him into venting about that, too.

His hang-ups with you befriending Carmine are interestingly reversed from how they appeared to be in Teal Mask. Back then, he seemed more low-key jealous that she might have been trying to take you, his first ever friend, away from him. But now (now that he’s convinced that you were never really his friend in the first place), it’s all twisted around into yet another sign of how perfect you are, because you managed to win over even someone as prickly and abrasive as his sister so remarkably fast. (Which, of course, has less to do with you than it has to do with the fact that Carmine’s actually a lot softer at heart than Kieran realises.)

He’s also maybe thinking about Drayton here, about the one time Drayton claimed in the cafeteria that you and he were “already tight”. That was a massive exaggeration, but no doubt Kieran filed that away as another person – someone else he finds infuriating and impossible to get along with – that you instantly won over with your magical friendship powers because of course you did. And on top of that, he’s bound to be thinking about his recent realisation that you came to Area Zero last time with your friends, plural, because of course you’d already got a bunch of friends, you’re perfect, you can do anything you want, you can be friends with anyone!

And yet – even as Kieran says this, it is objectively not true. Because you’re not friends with him right now! No amount of your amazing protagonist powers has been able to cut through his pile of issues and properly befriend him, even though you want to, because you are in fact not perfect in the slightest and have no idea what to say to get through to him and help him! But of course Kieran doesn’t realise this contradiction in what he’s saying – he's worthless, so the fact that you’re not friends with him is obviously just because you never wanted to be.

Speaking of you not being perfect, this moment here in which Kieran outright voices his jealousy and sense of inferiority compared to you is bound to be the first moment in which you, the player character, actually begin to realise that this has been his problem this whole time. (And, to be fair to your poor socially-oblivious avatar, it really wasn’t very apparent from their perspective until now! The only time Kieran ever gave any real explicit indication of his issues around you before was in Teal Mask, after the third battle when he lamented that “it’s because I’m weak” – but at the time, the player character wasn’t aware (like we the players were) that he knew they’d lied to him, so they couldn’t have known he was thinking about that. They probably just chalked his reaction down to him taking the lost battle particularly hard. The lie reveal was messy but seemed to work itself out; he was obviously upset when you caught Ogerpon but appeared to accept it well enough in the moment – then all of a sudden he showed up later being really determined to beat you for some reason??? Why.)

Another thing I love about this moment is the animation of Kieran desperately pulling at Terapagos’s crystal, the way he has to pause to catch his breath in between each huge tug, which really gets across that he is giving this every ounce of his strength. And that still isn’t enough, because it never is – he’s always too weak to be able to grasp even one thing for himself, but he is never ever going to stop trying no matter how impossible it seems.

(And I wonder if it’s going through his mind as he does this that surely this wouldn’t be nearly so hard for you. Like this is a sword-in-the-stone kind of thing, in which Terapagos would slide out smoothly like butter for someone who’s truly worthy of it, while a weakling like him is stuck hopelessly yanking on it with everything he has and just making himself look pathetic, because of course he doesn’t deserve this.)

Catching Terapagos

Except it turns out Kieran can manage to pull out the crystal after all, doing so with such force that he accidentally flings it halfway across the cavern to land between you and him. He rushes to pick it up before anyone else can, because this is his and he can’t let anyone take it from him, he can’t—

But then Terapagos wakes up, pops out of the crystal that serves as its shell… and it’s facing you. It doesn’t even see or acknowledge Kieran at all. It looks up at you adorably, like a baby imprinting on the first thing it sees, taking a few steps towards its new friend…?

(this has to be such an aching reminder of the way Ogerpon so quickly came to adore you and didn’t care about him, all compressed into one single agonising moment, ouch)

…This was not Terapagos choosing you over Kieran in any meaningful way. Kieran was behind it, such that it literally couldn’t see him and didn’t even know he existed. All it was doing was latching onto the first person it saw, which was you, because – completely by chance – it happened to wake up facing you and not him. If it’d woken up facing Kieran, it’d have seen and approached him in exactly the same way. Terapagos’s dormant crystal form is symmetrical; Kieran had no way to know which end was the head and which was the tail until it popped out.

This was, almost literally, a fucking coin flip. Only the coin was a magical crystal turtle and the winner was whoever “heads” landed facing towards.

(But then, luck has always chosen you over Kieran, too, hasn’t it?)

And so, seeing this happen to him yet again, seeing his one last chance of maybe finally having something and mattering about to be casually snatched away by you, like always, because the universe always gives you everything he wants… Kieran makes an awful, desperate split-second decision and throws the Master Ball. Because of course he does. It’s not right; it’s not fair on Terapagos – but it is so achingly understandable why Kieran would be driven to do this in this moment. The whole thing was so cruelly, rudely unfortunate. This poor kid just wants so badly to have something, to have anything at all where he’s not immediately overshadowed and upstaged by you.

(Also, shout-outs to the narrative cleverness of quietly establishing that BB Champions get given Master Balls, by the game giving you one when you beat Kieran, such that you think nothing of it at the time but can realise right away in this moment where Kieran got his from.)

Still, it’s notable how quickly Kieran was able to pull out the Master Ball, which suggests he’d had it ready near the top of his bag. It must have crossed his mind on the way here that surely, you’re going to somehow magically sway Terapagos to join you – or that it’ll just shun him, because earning a legendary’s respect involves proving one’s strength, and he’s still so weak – such that he felt he might need a way to guarantee it would become his, no matter what.

But even then, I do want to believe that Kieran wouldn’t necessarily have used the Master Ball if he hadn’t felt like he had no other option, and that he wanted to at least try to get Terapagos to join him willingly, like trainers are supposed to do. If he’d won the turtle-coin flip and it had woken up facing him, maybe he’d have been able to do so! But of course he didn’t get to have that.

(It’s kind of a shame that the characters never discuss the dodginess of catching a Pokémon from behind in a Master Ball, how that gave poor Terapagos no choice in the matter like Pokémon are supposed to have when they join a trainer. But then, pointing out that Master Balls are inherently ethically dubious gets awkward considering that the player can freely use them on anything they like, so the game was probably never going to go there. You are too silent-protagonist and Briar is too irresponsible-adult to comment on it, but maybe Carmine could at least have had a brief line questioning this? But, well, at least she does express apprehension about going in to battle with a legendary Pokémon they know almost nothing about, which is also a very valid concern, considering what ends up happening.)

Trying to beat you with Terapagos

So of course, the very next thing Kieran does is challenge you to battle him with Terapagos, so that he can finally beat you. Only… he doesn’t show anywhere near as much of that furious, fervent determination that he had for the Champion match. All that fire of his got snuffed out the moment he lost back then, and it never really came back. This isn’t the battle he’s been psyching himself up for and dedicating everything towards for months; it’s nothing but a desperate grasp at not falling apart completely. He’s kind of just… going through the motions, trying to beat you simply because it’s what he’s been clinging to all this time, and he still doesn’t know what else to do with himself if not this.

And more than anything, Kieran has to know deep down that he doesn’t truly deserve this, not after the way in which he caught Terapagos. After all, trainers are supposed to earn having strong Pokémon in their team, either by training them up from a low level themselves, or by proving their strength to a high-level Pokémon by weakening and catching it in battle. (This is why high-levelled traded Pokémon will disobey you if you don’t have enough badges – you haven’t given them a reason to respect you!) Catching a legendary from behind with a Master Ball is none of those things. Kieran has to be perfectly aware that he has not earned Terapagos’s strength in any way (just like he knew all along he’d never really be able to).

A very revealing line on this matter is that if you say you’re not ready to battle him yet, Kieran tells you, “You’d better not run away from this”. He never once implied you might run away from the Champion battle – that’d be like admitting you couldn’t win, and you’d never do that. But here, it's different, because Terapagos isn’t his strength, so even if he could beat you with it, it wouldn’t really prove anything about him. You’d be well within your rights to just refuse to indulge Kieran in this at all, and on some level, he knows that.

(…With all that said, Terapagos does obey his commands in the battle anyway. It’s sadly difficult to attribute any definitive emotions to it because it’s pretty unexpressive, but perhaps we can imagine that Terapagos is kind of just lost and confused, going along with the orders of the one who threw its ball because it’s not really sure what’s happening and battling is kind of instinctual for all Pokémon. Maybe it’s even more instinctual for Terapagos, thanks to its ability that automatically shifts it into a battle form when there’s an opponent in front of it. It doesn’t really help matters that you just sent something out to battle it without questioning things, either.)

If you manage to hit Terapagos super-effectively during the battle, Kieran scoffs that “it has a weakness? I thought this was the hidden treasure of Area Zero?!” What do you mean his super-special legendary that would let him finally definitely win this time isn’t invincible, that it’s still functionally just a regular Pokémon and it’s still possible – and not even that hard, really – for you to beat him even now.

And if you land a critical hit, oh boy: “How can you get critical hits, even at a time like this… What are you, the hero of this story?” Kieran is clearly raw with bitterness about the turtle-coin flip, about luck choosing you because you’re just so heroic, even when this was finally supposed to be his moment really seriously for real this time. It’s reminiscent of another time he compared you to a hero when you critted him, in his fourth Teal Mask battle – but back then, he said you were like the hero in “a story”, whereas here, you’re the hero of “this story”. Kieran’s realising on some level that if this were a story, you would be the hero of it, you’d deserve to win, and… wouldn’t he be the villain? Because heroes certainly do not go around throwing Master Balls at legendaries from behind.

(For the record, though? Kieran is not a villain. Stop calling him a villain, people. Not a single thing he does is outright villainous; catching Terapagos in this way is wrong, yes, but it’s an act of desperation for which his entire end goal is literally just to win a dang Pokémon battle against you. He’s barely even that much of an antagonist, if we get into that – this isn’t really a you-versus-him conflict so much as a him-versus-himself conflict that you happen to be inextricably wrapped up in.)

Kieran isn’t even that crushed when he loses this battle, just… lost and confused. He insists that “I thought if I had Terapagos, it would make me stronger,” as if catching it in a Master Ball would change anything about his strength – but really, he has to have known that wouldn’t truly be the case. And when Briar remarks that Terapagos isn’t as strong as it should be, Kieran just miserably assumes, “so it isn’t the hidden treasure?” Like, of course this was too good to be true, of course whatever Pokémon he actually managed to get his hands on was just some dud and not the real deal, because he’s never deserved to have anything worthwhile. His expression’s upset, and pleading, as says this was meant to let him beat you, still like that’d somehow fix everything, but his desperation’s become something pitiful compared to how furious it was before. He just doesn’t know what else to do, doesn’t know how else to cope with his crushing sense of inferiority if he can’t hold onto this.

Terapagos goes berserk

The only reason Kieran even Terastallises Terapagos is pretty much because Briar tells him to, and he’s at a loss for what else to do. It’s very possible that if an actual responsible adult had been here to talk him down – or, heck, even just let Carmine talk to him, since she was trying to do so again – then he’d have finally been in a state to listen and none of the ensuing disaster would have needed to happen. But Briar’s gotta see her giant sparkle turtle, because it turns out that basically her entire character exists to facilitate Kieran’s character arc having the most dramatic climax possible, and I for one am 1000% okay with that.

Kieran looks apprehensive and afraid even as he’s just beginning to Terastallise it (no emotionless mask to cover the wince this time), perhaps because he can feel that the power from his Tera Orb is way more than it usually is and isn’t sure this is a good idea. But what else can he do? He has nothing else left – so he throws the orb anyway.

Again, Terapagos is frustratingly unexpressive, such that it’s difficult to get a sense of whether it attacking Kieran once it Terastallises is an instinctive, unconscious defence mechanism, or something more deliberate. But it’s certainly more fun to imagine it’s deliberate – that this is Terapagos lashing out from anger and fear now that it’s been given a terrifying amount of power it can’t fully handle and begins to realise, wait, no, it didn’t want this. That makes this problem distinctly more Kieran’s fault, which is a good thing for his arc. (If Terapagos’s rampage wasn’t based in its emotions in any way, then this kind of wouldn’t be Kieran’s fault at all, not really! It was significantly more on Briar that he Terastallised it, after all. Kieran’s real mistake was catching it without its consent – so it’s more narratively satisfying for this to be, in part, him facing the consequences for that.)

Either way, the important part is that Kieran is bound to feel like this is Terapagos lashing out at him because he shouldn’t have caught it. He always knew deep down that that was wrong, and now here’s the proof, because of course a strong and special legendary like that would never truly acknowledge him. And now it’s so mad at him for trying to act otherwise that it tries to kill him. (This poor kid is already clearly very sensitive to rejection in general, but, ouch, that has to have been like a stab in the gut.) This is all his fault for daring to think he deserved to have any kind of strength at all.

But then you save his life, by sending out your lizardbike friend to shield him! Which on the one hand just makes you even more of a perfect hero – but this time, your heroism is a good thing for Kieran. And, more than that… you wanted to save him. You saw him as someone worth protecting? You, actually, care about him??? (Kieran has been convinced that he’s nothing to you pretty much ever since you lied to him back in Teal Mask, but, oh, hey, maybe not…?)

Not that he has much time to process that in the heat of the moment; he’s too busy freaking out over everything such that Carmine has to be the one to tell him he should recall Terapagos. Maybe on some level he just feels like Terapagos would never listen to him if he tried, because it literally just attempted to kill him – and indeed, it fights back and breaks the Master Ball rather than go back to being his Pokémon (there’s another painful sting of rejection). Of course Kieran should never have caught it or called himself its trainer. He reflexively asks “why?” it wouldn’t come back, but he knows why. It’s because he’s worthless and deserves nothing, and he should never have tried to pretend otherwise.

Facing the gaping pit

At the start of the final battle, Kieran’s just frozen in terror at what he’s accidentally unleashed, not to mention the recent shock of nearly being killed and the knowledge that this is all his fault. (Even though, it isn’t all his fault! Briar deserves at least half the blame for this! But that doesn’t remotely occur to Kieran in the moment, because he is intrinsically the most worthless person ever, so of course all the blame should be on him.) But after a little while, the immediate terror fades, and Kieran’s left with nothing but the overwhelming feeling that he’s useless, that he can’t help anyone. It’s that vast aching pit of inferiority that’s always been there inside him, finally right at the surface.

There’s nothing he can do to run away from it any more. Ogerpon didn’t want him and chose you instead. All of his efforts to make himself stronger meant nothing in the end because he still lost to you. He never should have tried to catch Terapagos, because it never wanted him either and all he’s done is put himself and everyone else in danger. There’s just no way out.

Which means that, for the first time ever, Kieran has no choice but to finally, actually face up to and confront his terrifyingly huge inferiority complex, and begin to fight against it in a genuinely healthy way.

Maybe he wouldn’t have even tried at all if it hadn’t been for the fact that he needed to help with this battle! Shout-outs to the narrative for creating a situation in which Kieran has to help after Carmine’s one remaining Pokémon goes down, because he might otherwise never have done so.

(I love that one of the things the battle camera can do while you’re idling here is cut to Kieran and linger a moment with him, with the look of either frozen terror or miserable inferiority on his face. Even though he’s technically just a background character right now for the mechanical purposes of the battle, this moment is about him, and the devs knew it.)

And of course it takes Kieran a really long time, most of the battle, to actually find the courage to fight back! His inferiority complex is so massive, so all-encompassing, the root cause of all of the desperate, self-destructive, obsessive things he’s done to try and escape it, that of course it’s so, so terrifyingly difficult for him to actually face up to it and find the strength to try and believe that… maybe it’s just wrong.

Crucially, the single thing that does the most to trigger Kieran’s shift into courage is you – you, calling out to him, asking for his help. Hearing that you actually value his strength and need his help is exactly the kind of acknowledgement that Kieran has always desperately craved from you all along. It’s just what he needs to help him believe that, just maybe, he might actually be kinda strong and worth something after all.

But even then! Even with that, his inferiority complex does not magically vanish, because of course it doesn’t work that way! All your words do is give Kieran the courage to fight it, by holding onto the fact that you believe in him and he’s not alone. His animations here are so good; there’s tears in his eyes even as he manages to snap himself into determination, because he is still so scared and just finally being really, really brave about it!

One really lovely subtlety is that the highlight in his eyes, that little visual detail that makes a character really look alive, which was completely not there in Kieran for the entirety of Indigo Disk up until now, finally comes back in the exact moment when he finds the courage to fight. And it's neat how the game manages to re-use the same screaming animation Kieran had for the beginning of the Champion fight, with the only minor differences being the tears and that highlight in his eyes, but in this new context it communicates an entirely different kind of emotion. It’s like he’s fervently psyching himself up into believing that he is capable of doing this.

And hey, Kieran’s contribution to the battle really is pretty helpful! It’s a genuinely tough fight to the point that, no matter your level, there’s a good chance you were struggling on your own for a while, so you’re probably glad he’s here to help even just in a mechanical sense. His Hydrapple’s Supersweet Syrup ability can be useful to you as well as him, and then if it goes down, he switches to Dragonite and – because of the evasiveness drop – begins spamming near-accurate Thunders on a Terapagos who is Water-type for this final phase. Look at him go! (And another thing Hydrapple can do to support you is use Dragon Cheer, which delights me, because it’s Kieran deciding that actually he’s okay with you getting all the critical hits after all. Aww.)

Once Terapagos is defeated, if you try to not catch it, Kieran will tell you that you need to do it, that “it has to be you, not me!” It’s so lovely that there’s not a hint of bitterness to him here as he says this, just perfectly comfortably accepting it, because he never really wanted Terapagos anyway and he knows it’ll be happier with you, and that’s all that matters. Even if you don’t get that line, his encouragement of you as you go for a Pokéball is more than enough to communicate the fact that he’s okay with you doing this. And Kieran’s smiling again, cheering you on with that same animation of his from back in Teal Mask when he was super excited to watch you battle his sister! This is the excitable, battle-loving kid he always was and finally is once more! His smile is even more adorable now without his hair obscuring half of it, too.

Letting it go

In the end, Kieran’s finally able to let things go thanks to multiple factors brought about by what happened in Area Zero. There’s the part where he spent the adventure being just a little bit closer to his normal self, letting him realise that he misses being like that and that maybe there was nothing inherently bad or weak about those parts of him at all. There’s the way that Terapagos going berserk served as a very stark representation of how his obsession with strength only ends up hurting himself and everyone around him, which must have helped him see that his behaviour leading up to this was doing the same kind of thing and he can’t go back to that.

And, perhaps most importantly, you acknowledged his strength by calling out for him to help you against Terapagos, which is what Kieran really needed the most all along. By joining you in the battle, he’s finally begun to face his inferiority complex, to shoot down the conviction in his mind that he’s useless and weak and can’t do anything, and prove to himself that he’s capable of confronting scary things after all, even including his own mistakes.

I do have another small writing nitpick about his dialogue in the post-battle scene, in that I don’t quite agree with his progression from “I just don’t have it in me to be like you” straight to “finally I can let it go”. Kieran was always aware of the former, deep down, but knowing that never did anything but make him latch desperately onto trying to prove that wrong no matter how impossible it felt. Meanwhile, the latter implies that he’s always consciously wanted to let it go and just somehow couldn’t despite that, which isn’t quite it either.

Instead, I think it’d work if he first went from how he can’t ever be like you into “I guess I have to just let it go”, and then from there into “Yeah… finally I can let it go”. Feeling like he simply has no choice but to let go at first, and only from there would he reflect and realise that actually, he can now, and maybe a part of him had always kind of wanted to after all.

Delightfully, as Kieran begrudgingly accepts that he can’t ever be like you, you finally get a dialogue option that lets you tell him that he’s strong and cool and worth something as he is!!! It seems like it really did take you hearing his inferiority complex directly from him in order for you to realise that this was something he needed to hear. He reflexively tries to downplay your compliment, like he didn’t really do anything impressive at all just now, because he still instinctively feels that way about himself – again, his inferiority complex has not just magically vanished, because it doesn’t work like that! – but hearing otherwise from you of all people has to be an immense help for him in fighting against it.

And it’s this that sets Kieran off crying, from that overwhelmingly positive emotion that you think he’s really cool, aww. This seems to break something of an emotional dam for him, letting him just have a good long cry about all of it, which, yes, he has so many emotions he’s needed to let out for so long now and it is good and healthy that he’s finally able to do so! (I wish this part was better animated, alas – but believe me, I am imagining him having such a big long cathartic cry even if the game isn’t managing to adequately show it.)

Then there’s the final scene! It’s so brave of Kieran to have resolved to apologise and make amends for everything he did wrong. That is scary as hell and comes with a huge risk of massive painful criticism and rejection, but he’s doing it anyway because he wants to do the right thing. He is such a good kid at heart despite his massive issues having driven him into several big mistakes.

Now that Kieran’s returned to something resembling his old self, his anxious body language from before is back – he’s barely making eye contact with you as he speaks, his head low, instinctively trying to hide his face behind the one bit of hair he still has hanging down. But nonetheless, you can tell that he’s making an effort to fight that and push himself to be just a little bit more assertive than he was able to be before all this. As he asks if you two can be friends again, he’s grimacing, already braced for rejection, hesitating then blurting out all of it in one big go before he changes his mind – there’s still a very significant part of him convinced that you’d just never want that and he doesn’t even have the right to ask. But at least he’s now able to realise that said part is probably wrong and find the courage to ask anyway! Because he wants this, and he deserves to at least try and grasp good things for himself!

And of course you still want to be his friend, because you basically always were anyway from your perspective, and Kieran is so adorably happy to have this second chance, and I am so delighted that the two of you are able to be friends again like you always should have been all along, aaaa. I could not be more proud of my boy.

(Well, I could go into a lot more detail about just how proud of and happy I am for Kieran thanks to all of his scenes in the epilogue and postgame. But that’s enough of its own separate Thing that it ought to get its own post! So hold on for that; I’m not quite done having So Many Feelings about this boy just yet. Aaand here it is!)

#pokemon #pokemon sv #pokemon scarlet and violet #the indigo disk #the hidden treasure of area zero #pokemon kieran #kieran pokemon #trainer kieran #rival kieran #champion kieran #character analysis #ramble #my buttons #friends

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revrover · 1 year

Text

The Stranger - Pt. 2

Part One: The Stranger

Part Three

Pairing: Namor x Reader

Word Count: 8k (lol whoops)

Warnings: Violence, Blood, Language, PLOT

Summary: Namor isn’t the only one who has been searching for his general. Thanks to you, Namora’s life was saved -- but when your connection to the two strangers brings you face to face with a hostile group of government agents, you find yourself in the crossfire of a much bigger conflict.

A/N: OMG first and foremost thank you for being here, thank your for coming back, and thank you for reading. This has taken me a bit longer to post because I’ve been pouring over it every day for a month, trying to get it just right. Comments, feedback and reblogs mean THE WORLD to me, so feel free to show some love and as always please be kind!

***I do not give permission to copy, plagiarize, or repost my work as your own in any form!

There is a growing unrest inside you.

Days have passed since your encounter with Namor after saving the life of his general, Namora. Two mysterious strangers who have left your mind reeling with questions, unrelenting and unquenchable as a flame that dares to spread like wildfire, consuming your thoughts entirely.

You repeatedly play the memory over in your head with no rational way to explain what you witnessed; her blue skin, his superhuman strength; the curious metal that outfitted both of their armor; how they disappeared into the vast open ocean.

"Something on your mind?" A fruit vendor asks, snapping you back to reality. You stand in the middle of the bustling village marketplace, doing your best to orient yourself quickly.

“Your head is — how you say…? — in the clouds, yes?” The vendor asks in her best English, smiling politely at you as she stands next to her cart, eager for you to buy something.

"Is it that obvious?" You joke with a tired laugh. "Two, please."

You scoop up a pair of fresh mangos and hand the woman some change from your pocket. She kindly accepts it with a nod of appreciation. Carefully sliding the fruit into your bag, you return a nod of your own.

You continue to walk through the market, the damp air carrying an aroma of local cuisine and sweat fills your lungs. Weaving your way in and out of aisles created by vendor carts, you feel a sense of calm as you watch the locals interacting with one another. There's beauty to be found in their sense of community.

Typically, you would gather your needed food and supplies and then be on your way back home, but today as your mind wanders, so do your feet.

Meandering down another aisle, your thoughts drift back to Namor, specifically the morning you found him on your front porch. You can practically feel the warmth of that sunrise as you imagine its light illuminating his dark eyes. You picture the smile that pulled at the corners of his mouth when you asked him if he would come back, a moment you hold onto tightly. The memory gives you optimism that you will see him again someday and hopefully have the opportunity to ask him more questions.

Lost in thought, you hardly notice a small crate sticking out a few inches further than other accompanying carts in the aisle. Tripping your foot as you walk by, it nearly tumbles you to the ground. You manage to catch your balance and your breath before face-planting into the dirt. Immediately turning to apologize, you find an elderly man seated behind the crate, his back leaning against the wagon behind him and his eyes shut.

The man is slender and his head bald, save for a few wisps of hair above his ears. Most of his body is covered by a knitted green poncho, well-worn and fraying along the hem. To both your relief and surprise, he seems completely undisturbed by your clumsy collision with his crate of goods. Unsure if he’s even awake, you reach down to help reset any items on the crate you may have displaced.

Your jaw drops slightly as you see the contents on display. Spread out on a velvet brown tablecloth sits a small assortment of beautiful books, scrolls, and other documents. Admiring them, you reach out and push back one of the scrolls, revealing a gorgeous hand-sketched portrait of the island.

“Did you draw this?” You ask, impressed by the skill of it.

“Mmm,” He hums, shaking his head, "But I made very good trade with the man who did.”

You find his answer odd, though slightly amusing, considering he never opened his eyes to see which piece you were referring to. As you browse the rest of the items, a particular book stands out to you. It’s different from the rest of the collection — small and bound in leather, although the leather itself is worn and brittle-looking. You pick it up and inspect it closer. The binding is loose, the pages aged and tattered.

“Careful with that one. Very old.” The elderly man says, his eyes remaining shut. “Nearly 400 years. Got it in a trade with a visiting merchant from our southeastern sister islands."

How does he even do that? You wonder as you start delicately flipping through the pages of the book. You make it about midway through when you open to a particular page that makes you freeze, your heart nearly jumping out of your throat. Your eyes widen as you bring the page closer to your face.

It’s a crude drawing — basic, two-dimensional, and very old like the man said, but the likeness is undeniable. Depicted is the figure of a man. He dawns a grand snake-like headpiece and is grasping a spear. His body is adorned with jade and other metals. Sharp ears. Winged ankles.

"Excuse me!” you ask the elderly man with an exasperated breath, practically jumping over the crate as you lean forward and shout, “These!" You flip the book around to show him the open page, pointing excessively at the picture and the glyphs below it. "What do these say?!"

Your voice is eager and desperate, emotions you hardly try to hide.

The man's left eye slowly squints open.

“Only few are still legible.” He says, shrugging.

“Okay, yes, but the ones you can read, what do they say?!” You plead.

He sighs, opening his other eye and leaning forward slightly to get a better look. After a moment, he leans back against the wagon and closes his eyes again.

"King. Serpent. God. Monster."

You hang on to each word he tells you. Turning the book back around, you bring it back up to your face for another closer inspection.

"How much?" You ask, ready to make a deal.

The elderly man cracks one eye open to look at you for a moment as he considers his price, then wordlessly points to your arm with a feeble finger. You follow his gaze down to the small beaded bracelet around your wrist — the last reminder of your life before coming to the island. You hold your arm up to him, making sure you understand correctly. He nods politely, and without hesitation, you untie the bracelet and toss it to him.

"Nice doing business!" He says with a wide grin as he holds up the bracelet. You are already nose-deep in the book as you turn on your heels, quickening your pace as you head home where you can study more carefully.

Maneuvering your way out of the market to the outskirts of the village, you hardly need your eyes to guide your feet home. You take advantage of the remaining daylight to examine the pages as you walk, turning page after page and scanning for any information about Namor and his people. There’s little there, the book seeming to be a very old, mingled account of island history and lore. Seeing as you are not a historian and certainly not a linguist, it’s difficult to decipher. Still, you do your best to piece together what you can from the pictures.

King. Serpent. God. Monster.

The sky begins to dim. You can hear the faint roar of waves as you near the coastline. It’s too dark to see much detail on the pages now, so you carefully tuck the book into your bag as you step over the trunks of palm trees. The path beneath your feet gradually turns from brush to sand, and soon you find yourself walking along the familiar stretch of beach that leads you home. You stare out into the darkness, listening to the rhythmic pattern of ocean waves and breathing in the salty evening air. The moon hovers above the water, burning brightly as countless stars paint the sky behind it.

You continue walking in the darkness, but there’s an uneasiness building in your gut the further you go. You should be nearing home by now, but no lanterns have come into view. You always light lanterns before heading into town. They burn for hours in your absence so, by the time you return, you have light to guide you. All you see now are shadows and silhouettes that dance against the tree line, and every sound and indiscernible movement has you on edge.

It’s not until you are nearly a stone's throw away that the bungalow materializes in the night. Your stomach twists as the wind blows by you, rustling your hair and causing the snuffed-out lanterns hanging from your porch to creak as they swing back and forth. You hear shuffling, and small beams of light sporadically shine through the cracks of lumber that make up the walls of your home.

There is someone inside.

An alarm goes off in your head, screaming at you to get out. As quietly as possible, you begin backing away. Eyes fixed on the bungalow, you take one step back. Then another. Then another. Then — thud.

Your stomach flips and your throat tightens. While you pray you’ve miscalculated and miraculously made it to the tree line in three short steps instead of thirty, you feel the unmistakable presence of a body directly behind you.

“Going somewhere?” A deep voice growls menacingly. It belongs to a man, his tone gruff, although you can’t quite make out his accent. You do, however, feel the blood drain from your face as you slowly turn your head, finding what is quite possibly the largest human being you have ever seen. Dressed in black military-grade tactical gear and armed with enough ammo and firepower to take on a small army, you know there is no fucking way you are getting away from this guy.

The man grabs your arm and forcefully drags you toward the bungalow. Once up the stairs, he pushes you inside and releases his grasp. You rub your arm and look up to find another man standing in your kitchen, his back turned away from you as he stands hunched over your table. He’s dressed in similar tactical gear and has a walkie-talkie hooked to his belt. A lantern burns next to him as he seems to be pouring over some sort of map.

“Sir,” the man behind you bellows.

The man at the table straightens his posture and turns around to face you both. His hair is buzzed and his face is stubbly, with a thick prominent mustache that stretches across his upper lip. He seems a bit older, and by the ‘sir’ formality, you are fairly confident he is in charge.

“Ah, we were wondering when you would be back.” He says in a sly tone, his accent American.

“Who the hell are you? What are you doing in my house?” You respond in anger to the unwelcome visitor.

The man takes a sweeping look around the place, then his eyes come back to you.

“I think we can agree that “house” is a bit of a loose term.” He responds with sarcasm, a knowing look on his face. You continue to stare him down, unresponsive to his quip. The man loosens his shoulders and smiles at you. “Where are my manners? Agent Barrett.” He reaches his hand out, offering to shake yours.

You don’t move a muscle.

There is an awkward moment of silence, then Agent Barrett’s hand retreats. He turns, beginning to pace around your tiny kitchen. The room is in rougher shape than usual, clearly ransacked by whatever search was conducted before your arrival. The agent picks up a small roll of gauze from off the counter and holds it up.

“Tell me,” he says, inspecting the bandage material closely, “have you had any visitors recently?” His gaze quickly flicks over to you, an eyebrow raised.

Your pulse quickens as your blood turns to ice. Your mind immediately flashes to Namora floating wounded in the water; to Namor breaking down your door; to the two of them disappearing into the night. You put on your best poker face and shake your head.

“There’s no one around here for miles,” you explain, trying to be as convincing as possible. “You should try more inland towards the village. Most tourists, if any, stick closer to town or retreat to the far side of the island where—“

“Oh, she’s no tourist.” Agent Barrett chuckles, cutting you off. It feels insulting as if your suggestion were so preposterous it was borderline humorous.

She. He is looking for Namora.

Setting the gauze down next to the sink, Agent Barrett turns and walks over to you.

“You’re certain you haven’t seen anybody unusual around here in the past few days?”

He’s standing much closer now. Something about him makes your skin crawl. You eye the gun strapped to his hip and doubt it is for self-defense. Again, you shake your head.

Barrett sighs and gives you a disappointed smile.

“Okay.” He says softly while nodding his head. He backs away from you as the room lingers in silence. You allow yourself to take a breath, but the relief is short-lived. “Looks like we’re doing this the hard way.”

On Barrett’s cue, the large man behind you grabs your shoulder and kicks the back of your legs, dropping you hard to your knees. With his free hand, he yanks the bag off your other shoulder and tosses it to another man who emerges from the doorway to your bedroom. He catches the bag and immediately starts rummaging through it.

“Hey—HEY!” You shout, “What the hell are you—“

“A woman!” Barrett yells. “Pale blue skin. Very skilled swimmer. Four days ago, she single-handedly took down three UN-sanctioned vessels in the middle of the goddamn Atlantic! Three! Now where I’m from,” he crouches down to your level, aggressively getting in your face as he drops his voice lower, “that’s what we call an act of terrorism.”

Adrenaline overtakes your body as you feel your heart beat so intensely it threatens to break right out of your chest. From the corner of your eye, you watch as Barrett’s henchman searches your bag. He pulls out the mangos and tosses them on the floor. Then, he grabs the old leather-bound book. Turning it over in his hand, he looks at it for a moment and tucks it into his belt.

“She was wounded,” Barrett continues, calling your attention back to him, “and our intelligence indicates she washed up somewhere along this shoreline. That's where her trail goes cold. And as you said, there's no one around here for miles. No one, except you."

His implication is obvious.

“This woman, where is she?” He makes a last-ditch effort to convey a friendly tone, but you can hear his patience dwindling. "And please don't make me ask again."

You stare at him coldly, lips sealed together. You’re not telling this man a damn thing.

"Mmmm," is all he grunts, his eyes dropping to the ground. He heaves a heavy sigh as he pushes against his knees to stand up. Once on his feet, Agent Barrett stares at you for another moment before nodding his head to the agent behind you. The next thing you know, you are suddenly being pulled up by your hair, the man’s grip tight against the back of your neck as he turns and pushes you out the door.

Your hands clamor to his as you struggle against him to relieve the painful tension pulling on your scalp, attempting to release his grip on you. But the man is too strong and drags you down the stairs of your porch with ease. You make it a few meters down the shore when he shoves you down to your knees. Your legs make divots in the sand as your hands catch the rest of your body’s momentum. Hunched over, your knees and palms sting from the sand's friction.

You immediately tense up as you feel a gun press against your head, the cool metal barrel hungry to fire. Hearing footsteps approaching behind, you quickly swallow your fear to maintain composure. Agent Barrett walks past, turning to position himself directly in front of you again — only this time, he doesn’t crouch down to your level.

“Look at me.” He demands as he towers over you. His body language makes it clear who is in control. In the only act of defiance you have left in your arsenal, you keep your gaze laser-focused on the water straight ahead of you, refusing to give in to his instruction. Growing impatient, Barrett roughly grabs your chin. He clasps it tightly as he yanks your jaw upward, forcing you to make eye contact with him.

“You’re going to tell me about your friend, and you’re going to tell me where she is, right now," he growls.

You stare at him, disdain in your eyes. You momentarily scan your surroundings and count nearly twenty other men on the beach now. It’s enough to make your gaze and your heart sink straight to the ground.

Even if you wanted to tell him, you don't have the answers Barrett is looking for. His face hardens as your lack of cooperation and unwillingness to talk becomes clearer and clearer. Loosening his grip and dropping your chin, Agent Barrett looks at the agent next to you.

“Do it,” he orders, leaving you without another word as he walks back up the beach toward the bungalow.

The gun presses even harder against your temple and you hear the irrefutable sound of it being cocked as a bullet rolls into the chamber. Your heart is heavy as your eyes begin to well with tears. You stare out at the ocean, the night swallowing the horizon save it for the piercing glow of the moon that cuts its way through the sky down to Earth. It’s a better view than most get in their final moments, you suppose. For that, you consider yourself lucky.

Time seems suspended as you feel the ocean breeze blow past you, pouring over your skin and filling your lungs as you deeply inhale these final moments. You savor the way the salty air envelops you like the comforting embrace of an old friend. Squeezing your eyes shut, you try fighting back the tears. Despite your best efforts, one single drop escapes, racing down your cheek as you accept your fate.

Zzzzziiinnng!

Where you expect to hear the split-second ring of a gun firing before getting your brain blasted out the side of your skull, you instead hear a high-pitched whistling through the air and the unmistakable slice of a blade penetrating flesh. The weight of the gun barrel against your head slides limply away, followed by the thud of a body hitting the ground next to you.

Your eyes shoot open. You turn to see your executioner now lying dead on his back with a spear pelted through his chest. Your eyes widen in fear, then settle on the spear itself. A spear you recognize — because it’s the same one that was held to your throat only a few days earlier.

Namor.

He's here. Desperately your eyes search the ocean line, scouring the darkness for him.

"We're under attack!" Someone yells frantically from behind you. It is one of Barrett’s men.

"Open Fire! Open fire!" Another one shouts.

You immediately abandon your search for Namor, hitting the deck and covering your head as dueling bullets and spears fly over you. Hearing anguished cries from both sides, you peek out from over your arm and watch in horror as an agent a few meters away looks down at their dart-ridden chest. They drop to their knees, then fall forward onto their face.

Your head whirls around at the sound of another spear making contact with a body and dropping it to the ground. This agent is about ten meters away from you, and while your first instinct is to get the hell out of there — run as far as you can as fast as you can — you notice your little leather-bound book tucked into the belt of the lifeless body.

You tell yourself to leave it. You plead with yourself to leave it.

“Damn it,” you mutter in frustration to yourself. You are getting that book.

Before you can give it another thought, you are already army-crawling through the sand. The sound of gunfire rings in your ears as more weapons return their fire. You scramble to the body, staying low to the ground on your chest and abdomen. Once there, you reach out and grab the book, wrangling it free from the deceased man's belt. You shove it into your waistband when something behind you explodes, causing you to duck your head and shield yourself with your arms.

The battle is deafening and disorienting. The mix of adrenaline and shock threatens to override your entire system as you try to maintain your focus.

Keep moving, you tell yourself.

You lift your head, ready to run, but your breath catches and you freeze. Mere inches from your face, you find yourself staring at someone’s feet and feel the presence of their body hovering over you. You brush the stinging sand out of your eyes, pleading in your mind that this is not the end. Not now. As your vision sharpens, you feel a surge of hope. There in front of you are two winged ankles.

Your eyes shoot up. Standing above you, illuminated by the light of the moon and the rapid sparks of machine guns firing, is Namor.

He looks down at you, his stare intense as his nostrils flare and his chest rises and falls with each breath. Gripping the hilt of the spear, he effortlessly removes it from the body next to you with one pull, his eyes never leaving yours. The ongoing battle on the beach doesn’t deter his attention from you in the slightest. From behind him, a handful of armed warriors with pale blue skin come storming out of the ocean.

“Namora!” He calls, and one warrior immediately splits off from the group. While the others continue to push the team of agents to the far side of the beach, the general comes to Namor’s side and your eyes widen as you take her in. Almost unrecognizable from when you first met her, Namora is a sight to behold. Instead of weak and wounded, she now stands strong and commanding, fully outfitted in her armor of woven jade and metal. Dazzling lionfish spines adorn her head and neck, and she wears the same mesh apparatus over her nose and mouth as before. You are astounded when you squint and barely see a seam remaining where you had stitched her up.

“K'uk'ulkan.” She answers, standing at attention.

Namor’s eyes are still fixed on you. He hands the retrieved spear to Namora and then nods in your direction.

You become nervous, suddenly uncertain if the pair of them have come to you as friend or foe, watching as Namora tightens her grip around the weapon.

“Go.” Namor urges, and a wave of relief washes over you. Friend.

“Where are my goddamn reinforcements?!!” You hear someone shout into a walkie-talkie. You recognize the voice as Agent Barrett's.

“Go NOW,” Namor commands, his eyes flicking up in Barrett’s direction. The expression on his face becomes menacing as he strides past you, his muscles rigid and his pace purposeful. He pulls his own spear out of the larger agent who nearly executed you as he walks past the body, arming himself.

Without hesitation, Namora strides forward and links her arm under your shoulder, pulling you up to your feet and yanking you quickly toward the trees. Before you can reach them, however, more men dressed in black combat gear come pouring out of the thick foliage, ready to attack.

Three surround you as the others rush to provide relief further down the beach. Instead of guns, these agents come armed with batons and other blunt weapons. Namora whips you back behind her, placing herself between you and the approaching enemy. She walks toward the agents, rotating her spear in her hand. You’re surprised by how relaxed her posture is as she waits for the men, each one at least twice her size, to make the first move.

The agent to her right makes the first advance, lunging forward at Namora. She meets him with speed and ferocity, quickly sidestepping him only to grab hold of his shoulders. She uses them as an anchor to whirl herself around him, gracefully landing and her feet and then lodging her spear into his back. The man cries out in pain, but Namora quickly delivers the final blow as she twists the spear in deeper and shoves it upward toward his lungs.

No sooner does his body hit the ground when the two other men charge at her. Like a beautifully choreographed dance, Namora drops to her knees, sliding across the sand between them to duck under their attacks. As she does so, she nimbly summersaults back onto her feet and turns one hundred and eighty degrees. Back on the attack, she runs hard at them. You watch as Namora delivers a combination of charged punches to one agent, then springs back to avoid the swing of the baton from the other. To counter the move, she kicks the man above the kneecap with so much power it sends his whole leg backward and brings him to his knees. She grabs the sides of his head with both of her hands, thrusting it down hard against her knee. You feel the grisly sound of blunt broken bone deep in your core as his skull makes contact.

As the man’s head reels backward, blood pouring from his face, Namora seamlessly transitions between her two opponents, avoiding another attack from the third agent she had previously deflected with punches. Her attention back on him, she trades blows as they fight in more hand-to-hand combat. Between kicks, punches, and counter-punches, Namora strategically inches herself backward until she’s practically standing on top of the first body she dropped. Baiting her current opponent forward, she taunts him with the tilt of her head, exaggerated by her headpiece. It works like a charm. He charges at her, and swooping under him, she wraps around his chest and pulls him over the top of her, flipping him onto his back. In one calculated motion, she pulls her spear from the body of the first agent which is now easily within reaching distance, and drives it into the second.

It all plays out in front of you so quickly when the third agent with the broken nose — well, broken face, really — groans as he gets himself up, ready to have another go at Namora. She engages, but as she moves towards him you see a fourth man emerge from the trees, raising a gun to shoot.

“LOOK OUT!” You yell to warn her, but pure instinct has your feet sprinting forward to stop him.

You don’t process any thought or consider any tactic, you just hurl yourself at him. The two of you collide, crashing to the ground with all the power and momentum you can muster. You scramble for his gun and manage to knock it away, but he barrels you over him and slams your back against the ground. The impact forces the air out of your lungs, temporarily paralyzing you as you struggle for breath. The agent straddles your body, putting more pressure on your chest as he pulls a knife from his hip. With all your strength, you fight to hold his arm back. He breaks through your grasp and takes a swipe at you, but reflexively you deflect it away with your hand. The knife slices open your palm and you cry out as you try to continue pushing his arms back.

When he raises his blade again, a blur of orange lionfish spines come streaking across as Namora flies over the back of the agent and yanks him off of you. They tumble across the sand, but she quickly gains the upper hand by entangling him in a headlock. Clutching your injured hand and still struggling for oxygen, you look on as she tightens her grip around the man’s neck and then abruptly cracks it to the side.

The sound makes you sick to your stomach, but you also feel a sense of relief. And gratitude. Your chest heaves as you finally start to catch your breath, your entire body buzzing. You turn to see the dead agents Namora has so quickly disposed of, their bodies dispersed across the sand. She unwraps herself from her most recent kill and makes her way to you with haste.

As she reaches you, you hear the chaos and fighting continue further down the beach. Then, the faint sound of a helicopter approaching. Barrett’s reinforcements.

“There are too many of them,” you say in distress as you witness more agents pour out onto the sand to fight Namor’s warriors. Even if each one had Namora’s four-to-one kill ratio, they are still outnumbered. As the chopper blades get louder, Namora looks at you intensely, reaching out her hand.

“Come,” she insists.

She’s gotten you this far. You grasp her hand without hesitation and she pulls you to your feet. You edge closer to the tree line where you hope safety and concealment await you, but as you reach the lush landscape something pricks your ears. It’s not gunfire. It’s not the chopper.

Namora tugs your arm as she tries to usher you into the trees, but your focus is elsewhere. A faint, melodic breeze moves past you like a ghost, causing your mind to become hazy. As the sound grows louder, an indescribable melody rings in your ears that is both euphoric and dreadful. You don’t even notice the tension of Namora’s grip on your hand increase as your feet redirect you toward the water, compelled by its call.

“No!” Namora yells at you as she yanks your arm. The force of it snaps your attention back for a moment, and you watch as the agents who line the beach suddenly cease fighting and instead walk undeterred paths straight into the water. Terror fills you as they wade further and further out, the water coming up to their knees, then their hips, then their chests, until they are completely submerged underneath.

You shoot a glance to Namora, petrified and confused. Whatever is happening, she seems unaffected. Your thoughts and vision begin to cloud again, and you feel like someone else is controlling your body as the ocean summons you along with the others. Every part of you feels entranced by the chorus of voices in the air as their notes overwhelm your senses and leave you disoriented. Namora grabs you, practically throwing you over her shoulder as she runs into the trees. You become hard to carry, so she pulls you both into the cove of a sheltered root system at the edge of the foliage. Huddling next to you, Namora tightly wraps her arms around your head to cover your ears with her hands.

Pupils dilated, you desperately try to hold onto any shred of active consciousness before giving in entirely to the song. Your mind becomes infiltrated by it and begins to process what you see in pieces; men in the water, drowning themselves; gunfire raining down from the night sky; Namor, spear in hand, leaping into the air, taking impossible strides toward a chopper; the chopper spinning out of control.

You feel the heat against your face as the chopper crashes to the ground, exploding on impact. The last thing you remember seeing is Namor in the distance, standing on the sand. Illuminated by the raging inferno that burns behind him from the destroyed chopper, he is fierce, incredible, and terrifying.

A god. A monster.

The haunting chorus melody continues to consume your mind. Even with Namora’s help, you feel your body shift as it involuntarily attempts to get up. Namora squeezes her palms over your ears with even more strength and restrains your movements.

"No." She whispers fiercely.

You squeeze your eyes shut, covering your hands over Namora's as tightly as possible. Blood pours from your hand down hers, trickling onto your shoulder. The noise is too much, and as you feel yourself begin to scream, everything goes black.

——

Your feet drag through the cool sand.

That’s the first thing you see when you finally become conscious again. Your head hangs low in front of you, pounding as it bobs up and down. It’s still dark out, but you find your home lit up by more lanterns as you approach the pathway to your porch.

You glance to your right and left, discovering you are being assisted by two people on either side of you — Namora on your right and a much taller blue-skinned man on your left. His shoulders are wide and his head is outfitted with an armored hammerhead skull. Arms slung around both of their necks, your body is in a state of pure exhaustion as they get you up the stairs to the door.

As you start to step with your own feet, they are alerted by your recovered consciousness. Quickly, the man unhooks your arm from around him, steadying you against Namora. He retreats as you find yourself gaining feeling back in your body. Namora patiently waits for you to get your bearings, and when you do she opens the front door for you, ushering you to go inside. You follow her instruction, and there waiting for you in the bungalow is Namor.

Namor stands against your kitchen counter, the same place you stood when he first came crashing into your home. His arms are folded across his broad chest. Although his head is down, his eyes are flicked upward toward you, watching your every move. The flame of a lantern on the table glints off his irises, illuminating the dark stare that hovers just below his furrowed brow.

“Please, sit.” He says with a stern voice, his open palm gesturing toward a chair at the table.

As you sit down, you hear the front door close behind you.

Silence.

"Those men," he finally says, pushing himself away from the counter as he stands up straighter, “they were seeking information?"

You only nod, afraid to say too much.

“It’s safe to speak here. I’ve made sure of it.” He promises, sensing your reluctance to engage in conversation.

“They wanted to know about Namora." You answer cautiously.

Namor's expression grows even more serious. He subtly shifts his weight from side to side before settling back into the center of his powerful stance.

"And even with your life on the line, you said nothing."

You are unsure if he is making a statement or a question.

"Why?" He asks through a clenched jaw.

"Why?" You repeat back to him, caught off guard by the question. "Does it matter why?"

"Yes,” Namor says directly, raising his eyebrows. “Because I need to know if I put my spear through the right person.”

The seriousness of his statement hits you like a brick. Your mind flashes back to the beach, you on your knees with a gun to your head as Namor’s spear plows its way through the man next to you. How easily, you wonder, could he have changed his aim by just a few degrees if you had decided to open your mouth and spill what little information you did know to those men?

As you think about it, you also begin to ask yourself why. Why did you keep your mouth shut? Why did you help Namor and his people?

You take a deep breath as you consider your reasons, then lift your gaze to him.

“You barged into my home, broke down my door, and threatened my life. But even then, the motives behind your actions were clear — the love and concern for your people. These men,” your eyes trail away as you feel a wave of anger build up inside, "these men were driven by self-interest and self-preservation. It wasn’t hard to choose a side.”

His face is stoic as he listens to your answer.

“Plus,” you add, “I promised you I wouldn’t say anything. Twice.”

Namor looks at you the same way he did the night you met him. The look that tells you he is debating whether or not you are telling the truth. You are a witness testifying on the stand, and Namor is your judge and jury.

“Well, that is twice now you have saved my people. Again you have my gratitude." He says with a sigh, his expression softening.

You give a small smile, but it disappears when an unrelenting ache pounds inside your head, pulling you out of the moment. You reach up to rub your temple and suddenly feel a surge of pain coming from your hand, instantly reminding you of the injury you sustained from your face off against one of the agents on the beach.

“Shit,” You exclaim, pulling your cut, bloodied palm away from your face and looking at it.

"Here," Namor says, grabbing the roll of gauze off your kitchen counter as he moves in your direction. Pulling up a chair, he sits down directly in front of you so your knees are practically touching. He gestures for your hand. “May I?"

You consider his offer as you stare at the thick veins protruding from his forearm, binding themselves to his defined muscles like vines around a tree. Eyes darting back up to his, you cautiously nod your head to accept his help while simultaneously extending your arm to him.

Namor takes your injured hand gently in his own, cradling it as if it could shatter into a million pieces. Amazed by how his hand dwarfs yours, you feel a surge of energy in your chest when his thumb begins to rub along your wrist. He takes the roll of gauze and begins carefully wrapping it around your palm.

Calmly maneuvering each layer of the bandage, Namor's brow furrows ever so slightly as he slips deeper into a state of concentration. His grasp is firm but gentle, rotating your hand in tandem with the bandage and you take comfort in his touch.

Studying his face, you admire each feature and detail closely. You see the traces of salt against the rich tones of his skin, and soon your willpower gives way to a desire slowly being coaxed inside you as you allow your eyes to trail from his face to his broad shoulders, down his muscular biceps, and finally to his strong hands as they work to take care of you.

Namor begins humming softly as he continues wrapping your hand. There's a warm timbre in his voice that resonates in your ears, drawing your gaze back up to his face.

"That song..." your voice trails off as you grow more entranced by it, unable to find the words to describe its intoxicating melody. But a surge of fear runs through you as you recall another tune, the one from the beach, its haunting cadence prickling the back of your mind.

"My people have many songs," Namor says in a tone equally rich to his humming, calming you instantly. "Each one with a meaning and purpose."

"What is the purpose of that one?" You ask quietly.

Namor’s hands stop as his eyes wander up to yours.

"It's a lullaby, meant to bring the soul peace." His eyes flutter back down as he resumes wrapping the bandage around your hand. "My mother would sing it to me when I was a child."

"It's beautiful." You say reverently.

A smile spreads across Namor's face, but there's a hint of sadness in it. He leans down to your hand and you can feel your heart beat faster as his mouth hovers mere inches above your skin. The warmth of his breath rushes against your wrist, sending shivers through you. With great care, he tears the gauze with his teeth before tucking the loose end into a fold of the bandage.

"It is," he agrees, staring down at your hand which he now holds carefully between his own. "Especially in a world where peace is scarcely found."

His voice is gentle, but there is a bitterness brewing beneath the statement.

"I have spent my life ensuring peace for my people. Protecting it. Preserving it."

Namor looks back up at you, letting go of your hand as he sits up straighter in his chair. The room is quiet as his words sink in and you drop your gaze to think. As you do so, your good free hand migrates to the leather book still tucked in your waistband, your fingers fiddling with the binding.

“What is it?” Namor asks, snapping your eyes back up to his. You swallow nervously, unsure if you should share what is on your mind. Then again, you may not get another opportunity.

Slowly, you pull the book out from against your side, opening it to its marked page before pushing it across the table to him.

“You say you’ve spent your entire life protecting your people.” You preface, hesitating a moment before asking your question. “Is that... you?"

Namor stares at the book in front of him, tracing the outline of his likeness delicately on the open page with his fingertips.

"A version of me." He answers.

"How...." you rub your temple as you do the unnecessary math in your head, already knowing the hundreds of years difference between the book and the man in front of you doesn't add up. "How is that even possible? That book is centuries old, I mean," you are at a loss trying to wrap your head around it all, coming up short with any logical explanation, “who are you?"

Namor looks up at you, then his gaze descends back onto the open book. He gives a sad smirk.

“You are one of very few to ever ask who I am instead of what I am." He strokes his jaw with his thumb and forefinger. "The answer to neither of which will be found in your book." He says, shutting it and sliding it back toward you. You reach for it, only he doesn’t take his hand off the leather cover right away.

"You must always be weary of your authors.” He warns. “The preservation of one's opinion over time does not make it fact, no matter how long ago it was written."

He relinquishes his hold, you finish sliding the book back to your side of the table. Namor searches your face as his eyebrows pull closer together, a rare look of vulnerability in his eyes.

"I wear the mantle of king and am the protector of my people.” He begins. “They are my responsibility by birthright, a charge I’ve dedicated my entire life to upholding.”

Namor proceeds to tell you the story of his people — how they were driven from their home by Spanish conquistadors, and how their gods provided a remedy for a foreign disease that led them to seek sanctuary in the ocean itself. He explains that his mother was among them, pregnant with Namor at the time, and how the remedy herb altered his very being in the womb. Mutant is the word he uses, the reason for his strength and abilities, as well as his slow aging. He then describes the horrors he had seen upon returning his mother’s body to the surface world after her death, and the vow he took to keep outsiders away from his people and his beloved city he calls Talokan.

"So you see," he says leaning forward as he places his forearms on his knees, his face even closer to yours now, "I am no god. Nor am I a man. What I am is a leader who loves his people. If that makes me a monster, so be it. I will see the world burn before I subject my people to its sins and savagery.”

It’s a lot to take in. You study Namor’s expression as his stare now lingers away from you, his mind somewhere in the past. You can’t even begin to comprehend all that he has seen or experienced, but you do feel a clearer understanding of why he is the way he is. Filled with compassion for him, you cautiously reach up and cradle his face with your non-bandaged hand.

"You're not a monster." You reassure him gently.

This brings Namor’s attention back to you immediately, his dark eyes searching your face earnestly as he takes a deep breath through his nose. The bristles of his scruff are rough against your palm, creating a warm friction when he leans into your touch. Namor closes his eyes and lets out a sigh so deep it's as if he's releasing a weight from his shoulders, one that he has been carrying for far too long. His hand comes up to cover yours, pressing it deeper against his cheek.

“K’uk’ulkan,” a voice calls from behind you. You drop your hand back down to your lap as Namor glances over your shoulder. The man with the metal hammerhead skull stands at attention in the front doorway, his body so large it consumes the space entirely. Namor nods at him, then looks back at you.

"It's time," he says, pushing himself up to his feet. “More men will be coming. Namora is outside — collect what you need quickly, she will take you to a safe place.”

The realization sets in, and your heart sinks. Your home is no longer safe and you can’t stay here.

Namor offers you his hand, helping you out of your chair and onto your feet. In doing so, he pulls you into him and tucks his hand delicately under your chin. He’s impossibly close as he tilts your face upward toward his own.

"I am sorry." He whispers, a soft and apologetic tone in his voice. He gives you a remorseful look, but all you can think about is how little space currently exists between his lips and yours. Namor’s gaze flutters down from your eyes to your mouth, but the moment is fleeting as he drops his hand from your chin and takes a step back.

“Go.” He says, encouraging you to get your things. It’s his last word before walking past you and exiting out the front door.

Left alone in the empty bungalow, you make your way over to your bag still on the floor from earlier that evening. You take it and march into your room, grabbing some clothes, your toothbrush, and other small essentials. You don't have much in terms of possessions in the first place, so it doesn’t take long for you to collect what you need.

As you exit your bedroom, you get ready to leave when you look over at the small book on your table. Namor insisted it held no answers for you, but you go to retrieve it anyway, stuffing it in your bag along with the rest of your belongings.

You take one last look around your home, once an unfamiliar broken place that over time became your haven and sanctuary. It breaks your heart to leave, but you know you must.

“Thank you,” you quietly whisper to the room, hoping in some way its energy or spirit or anything can hear you. You make your final exit, walking out to the front porch just as the dawn is starting to break over the horizon. Warm hues cast shadows of orange and red across the island, and you breathe in the early morning air. As you look out across the beach, you are surprised by what little evidence remains of the night’s events. No bodies. No fires. Just large divots in the sand and some smoke along the tree line from a few singed palms.

Namora is standing at the edge of the pathway leading to your porch, waiting for you. Descending the stairs, nerves prompt you to tighten your grip on the shoulder strap of your bag as you brace yourself for the unknown.

“I’m ready,” you say when you reach her.

Namora looks at you seriously, then nods her head. Reaching up to her face, she carefully removes the apparatus from over her nose and mouth. It is the first time you have seen her whole face, unobstructed by the peculiar covering. She’s just as striking without it, and you notice a beautiful jade ring pierced through her septum, echoing Namor’s. She turns the mask in her hand and guides it onto your face, sealing it against your skin.

“Come,” she tells you, turning toward the ocean.

You take one last look back at your home, then fall into stride behind Namora as the two of you walk into the water.

-- -- --

Tag List (I think this is how you do it? Sorry if not, still figuring this whole Tumblr-thing out): @looneylikesbooks @omgsuperstarg @chixkencxrry @vainillasmil157 @demoiseller @sodonuthideout @shoutaaizawas @stany0url0calwh0res111 @hjjks @duckwithsunglasses

#namor #namor x reader #namor x you #namor x gen!reader #Namor x y/n #mcu namor #namor fluff #namor fanfiction #namor fanfic #namor imagine #k'uk'ulkan #black panther wakanda forever #namora #namor of talokan #Wakanda forever #fanfiction

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naffeclipse · 5 months

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Hey Naff! I just saw the ask about what Cryptid y/n would be and your response about a mothman one, and I present to you something I just thought would be really funny:

Following along the delicious obliviousness of the main fic, mothperson y/n just not having that sixth sense all cryptids have that lets them detect other cryptids or even demons. So they find the "abandoned animatronic" and feel bad about their vulnerability and obviously burnt state (plus are drawn to the glow of their eyes!) and approach asking if they might need help. They know this forest like the back of their hand, it would be no problem directing them somewhere a human settlement could help them!

Meanwhile the boys are internally like ?? are they not? Afraid? Why is this other supernatural entity talking so casually to a demon, can they not feel what they are?

And y/n is just like all proudly declaring how they are a very good hunter (of what they eat) and well respected in the woods and how nobody will get away with hurting them as long as the local mothperson watches over them, and smiles at them just super earnestly.

And so amused they just go along with it. Wondering when they'll eventually realize what they're dealing with. Because surely they will sense it soon, right? But then they don't, and Eclipse no longer wants them to, because this cryptid can very much fly away, and they find themselves really not wanting that to happen the more time they spend together.

Heya, babe! About this post, EEEE, I LOVE THIS! Oblivious Y/N strikes again in mothperson form!

That's so sweet to think of the possessed animatronic's pale eyes becoming a familiar and welcomed light in mothperson Y/N's life, and how easily they seek out the boys with their glow. It's also a bit of a strange role reversal with Y/N sleeping during the day and fluttering around at night.

Gah, I love the boys' confusion, too! They're not necessarily concerned or hostile towards another cryptid, expecting this one to become aware that they're much, much more dangerous than what their vessel appears as, so they certainly don't expect this polite offer from the mothperson to help them hide in the woods.

Then promising to protect them. That's new. Eclipse has no idea how to take the rather sweet cryptid except to follow them into their woods.

I imagine there are a few moments where the boys almost trip themselves up when Y/N returns with a varmint for their dinner and happens to not eat the heart. Either Sun or Moon almost comments about them wasting the best part of the innards before—whoops gotta keep that to themselves.

OH OH AND ANOTHER THING mothperson Y/N believes that they're the tol in the relationship friendship because the animatronic doesn't pass their feathery antennae in height, only to be proved very very wrong when Eclipse finally emerges and is taller than them.

#chaotik i'm kissing your big brain #augh love mothperson y/n #their wings and eyespots would be stunning and silvery #cryptid sightings #mothperson!reader #cryptid!eclipse #chaotikanvas

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dumbificat · 5 months

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Day 3 -> dan heng + matching jumpers

☆ - it’s so cold on the express this time of year… ♡ - dan heng (+ march 7th) !! ♪ - no warnings, just some festive fluff | gn reader ★ - note: day three of my event ! i thought this prompt would fit dan heng perfectly :3 also this was way longer than intended whoops…

the act of trailblazing was never simple: always on the move, always busy with work. as gratifying as it may be, sometimes you just need a break. that’s why when the opportunity came for you and dan heng to have some time off, you were happy to accept.

the festive season was in full swing, and nights on the astral express were bitter to say the least. wearing anything less than two layers was a death wish, but you had a plan to keep you and your boyfriend warm.

“i’m not wearing that.”

“please?”

“no.”

dan heng stood, arms crossed and a scowl on his face. no, he did not want to wear matching christmas jumpers with you. he may be your boyfriend but this wasn’t happening. you were already wearing your jumper, desperate to take some cute pictures matching with him. you knew he wasn’t a fan of matching clothes, but you wouldn’t go down without a fight.

“what’s wrong, honey? you don’t want to match with me?” he stayed silent as you gave your best puppy eyes. he closed his eyes, breathing out a sigh. you knew you’d won. he hesitated taking the jumper from you, but did and promptly left to change into it. no sooner had he returned, you heard March 7th let out a squeal.

“i need pictures. now!” she exclaimed but you happily complied. you were next to dan heng, leaning on him slightly as March filled her camera roll with the two of you. you tilt your head to look at him, but his gaze was averted, a slight blush blessing his cheeks. you could tell he wasn’t enjoying the attention, so you ask March to leave. she reluctantly agrees, snapping just a few more pictures before running off to stelle.

dan heng lets out a sigh of relief, and you reach out for his hand in apology. with your fingers interlocked, he walks you both towards your room. he may have his own “room” and “bed” but you can hardly stand to see him sleeping there, it doesn’t even look remotely comfortable. you both climbed into your bed and snuggled under the covers, content to lay together for the rest of the night.

he holds you close, never wanting to let go. pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead, he whispers,

“i love you,” before adding, “so much more than you’ll ever know.”

your christmas jumpers weren’t the only thing matching, as your feelings matched his.

thank you for reading day 3 ! please reblog if you enjoyed :)

link to event post

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meowmeowmeowmeow4x · 15 days

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Dark Blue Moon and the Suffering Sun Chapter 15

I can't believe we're at 15 already :O

MASTAPOST

Danny looked at Damian. Damian looked at Danny. They looked at the smoldering remains of the Atlantean barracks, the scores of soldiers whose feet were frozen to the floor or to each other, bearing incredibly precise scorch marks from the wrist ray (maybe he should take confiscate that soon). They looked at the retreating soldiers, some of whom were openly sobbing. Danny looked at the helmet Damian acquired from their poor Atlantean victims, and the bow and arrow strapped over his chest. He looked at the overflowing satchels full of plant-based food they had plundered from the town. The unluckiest of them sported Damian-shaped bite marks on their exposed skin, a very painful reminder to not enter the kid’s personal space.

“You said we were just gonna get a map.”

Damian crossed his arms and honest-to-god pouted. Or scowled. It was a scowly pout. “It was not my fault you lost control over your powers.”

Danny’s face went blank. “Who was the one who demanded to see the seahorses and stick around even after we got what we needed?”

And you know what? Danny could honestly admit the seahorses were pretty cute. Was it worth risking their lives? Probably not, even if with Danny’s powers, there wasn’t much risk to them at all. It was the principle of the thing.

Damian at least had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “Is it truly my fault if I wish to admire our planet’s marine biodiversity up close?”

“Yes, Damian. Absolutely.”

“It matters not. Besides, the Atlanteans deserve what happened to them.”

Now that excuse wiped the deadpan off Danny’s face, leaving him in open-mouthed disbelief.

Damian continued. “We have done nothing to them, and yet they regard our mere presence with fear, and take up arms despite there being no hostility from us.”

Danny looked back to smoldering ruins. Granted, it was just a barracks and a few watchtowers, but still. The Atlanteans fear of them was starting to feel a little justified. Did the first settlement Damian raided yesterday suffer a similar fate?

He ran his hands down his face. Scratch the bloodthirsty theory. He was beginning to think Damian intentionally got them caught to have an excuse to wreck the Atlanteans. Then there were the weapons. One look at Damian’s satisfied face as he looked over the destruction practically confirmed it.

Man, kids really were menaces, weren’t they? Maybe he should’ve thought more carefully before agreeing to travel thousands of miles alone with this chaos kid. Was it the siren instincts? Youngblood was similarly unhinged. Maybe it just released his inhibitions.

His distress must have been visible, because Damian tutted once his silence went on too long. “I was being merciful to them. With my skills, I could have easily gut them like the fish I very reluctantly eat, but no longer have to thanks to having plundered their food stores.”

“You know what? I’m not gonna even try to unpack all of that. That’s a job for my sister.” The elder siren patted his shoulders. “Get on, we’ve got places to go.”

Damian beamed as he swam around Danny and latched on, head held high. And honestly? Danny would be an absolute hypocrite if he said he didn’t absolutely enjoy whooping the high and mighty bigots a new one.

“Hey B.”

Bruce could hear the strain on Tim’s voice. Even now, the boy was clacking away at the Batcomputer. He probably hadn’t taken more than a five-minute break.

“Tim.” Bruce said. He considered his next words. He was never one for talking much. It had become difficult to emote strongly after that night in Crime Alley.

“Still hacking into the GiW, and going over missing person cases. Haven’t found anything. I’ll post you when I do.” Tim said, all in work mode. Bruce sighed.

“Thank you, Tim, but I know it’s getting late at home. When was your last break?”

Tim didn’t say anything, but Bruce could practically hear the pout.

“I know you’re worried. I am too, but the Batcave will still be there in the morning.”

Tim hummed, still defiant to the last. “We’re losing valuable time. I can handle it. I handled Damian’s… everything. This is nothing. I’ve only been awake for sixteen hours.”

And wasn’t that half the issue.

Bruce took a deep breath. Countless hours of miming with Alfred, and talking to cardboard cutouts of his children.

“I’ve been worrying, Tim.” Just calmly. Just ease into the words. Don’t freak Tim out or scare him away.

“All you ever do is worry, and now it’s Damian so you’re worried even more.”

“I’m…” The lump in his throat grew. It felt like breaking glass to push through. “I’m worried about you.”

Silence on the line.

Bruce continued, stumbling into dark. “H-How are you feeling right now?”

A chair scraped on the other end., followed by retreating footsteps. “Nope. Nope. Not doing this.”

Bruce’s stress hiked. “Wait, Tim!”

The footsteps stopped, although Tim remained silent. Words, words, words, words. What did his manual say about this kind of situation?

“Thank you. I know you and Damian haven’t been on the best terms. But it… It’s…”

Bruce rapidly flipped through his manual, before deciding on the right word, before Tim could get away. “It’s… I’m proud of you. I always have been. And I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

The footsteps resumed, twice as fast as before. Bruce could barely make out muttering about coffee hallucinations. That was good, was it? Bruce looked over his checklist over and over again. Surely he hadn’t missed something?

Maybe he needed to review his notes before talking to Dick…

Arthur Curry, better known to the world as Aquaman, regarded the messaged sent to the palace from the Pacific frontier. The kingdom had benefitted immensely once the zeta system and advancements in instant communication allowed for him to easily communicate with every corner of the country in seconds.

The contents were worrying. Very worrying, in fact. He would almost have dismissed it as impossible, if he weren’t keenly aware of how much damage a clever enough child could do. Memories of the various Robins’ exploits around the Watchtower flashed through his mind, giving him goosebumps.

Never again.

It was a luxury which appeared unable to be afforded to him, as an attendant entered the room and handed him a second message, bound in twine and seaweed. Arthur thanked her, and opened the letter.

Another raid by the same child, this time accompanied by a young teenager. A young teenage siren. The local barracks destroyed, several watchtowers toppled, and food stores plundered. The two sirens fled soon after. About thirty injured personnel, but no casualties, and no civilian injuries either, thank goodness.

It was one of the strangest raids parties he’d ever seen. Usually siren pods descended on vulnerable border towns like a landslide, bringing dozens or hundreds of warriors charging through the countryside, pillaging farmland and razing whole buildings to the seafloor. Arthur transitioned to the archives to continue his research, pulling thousand-year-old records from their carefully preserved cases. His earliest predecessors had seen countless deaths to these war parties, before the Atlantean military was formalised and modernised.

The raids also occasionally took hostages. Sometimes adults or the elderly. Usually children. Arthur’s heart ached at his most vulnerable subjects being stripped away from their families. Those hostages taken were often never seen again, even as Atlantean forces made repeated incursions into siren territory to search for them. They would always be repelled back before finding any.

But one pattern was always clear with the raiders. Although those barbarians took Atlantean children for whatever sick purposes, they never brought their own children to fight. Some of his people believed they didn’t even have children, that they spawned spontaneously as fully formed spirits of destruction and rage.

It looked like those theories were untrue. But what circumstances could produce such a strange result? The first report only described a single siren child, who looked to be about five years old or so by Atlantean standards. The second report confirmed the reappearance of that child, now in tandem with a teenager who still appeared very young. Were they brothers? The reports stated the older one had translucent white and black skin, almost like glass, to the point where even his internal organs were faintly transparent. The younger siren sported a dark green coat, and golden fins and highlights. Neither before or after they struck did the soldiers ever catch a glimpse of an adult.

Could they be orphans? Arthur’s heart panged. Even if they were technically his enemies, he hated the fact that children were the victims of this continued conflict. Despite attempts to work out a peace treaty between his kingdom and the sirens, it could never work out. Atlantis was one kingdom with one king, but the siren pods spent as much time squabbling between themselves as with Atlantis.

Outside of their age and lack of supervision, the children also sported another deviation: Their choice in weaponry. While the capital invested in preferred to traditional weapons, favoring especially polearms like the spear, trident and javelin. Siren war bands in the past favored the bow and arrow, using their superior speed to outmanoeuvre and outrange Atlantean soldiers. Many men and women were lost to their feigned retreat tactics, to the point where every new recruit had to be drilled again and again to never pursue ‘retreating’ sirens.

The elder of the two raiders fought with only his magic, firing icy beams and throwing spears of ice. This was where the duo was most similar to typical siren warriors, contrasting against the disciplined and measured sorcery taught to Aqualad and others his age.

What was alarming was how the younger boy fought. He slashed at one poor soldier who got too close with a sword in his first attack. Mauled six others with his teeth in the second. At ranged he wielded a strange contraption on his wrist, capable of rapidly firing concussive energy beams that let him suppress and disrupt soldiers triple his size.

The sirens were never interested in technological development in the same way as the Atlanteans did, and never had they possessed a weapon even close to as advanced as the one sported by the tiny child.

Arthur’s eyes furrowed. Could it be that some third party was supplying Atlantis’ enemies? How long before another army gathered, before the kingdom faced another existential threat like Pariah Dark had once posed?

Arthur’s Justice League communicator vibrated. The king of Atlantis picked up the call.

“Arthur.” It was Bruce. “This is urgent.”

“What do you need?”

“What information has your kingdom got on sirens?”

“What a coincidence, because I’ve just received two new reports from the Pacific frontier…”

“… As for this Phantom character, the culprit of the attack seems to match your description perfectly.”

Bruce furrowed his eyes. He marked the location where Phantom had last struck. The boy was heading south, along the California Current. For what reason? Was he migrating according to his needs as a species, or was he searching for another haunt? Was he going further south or would he turn west once he neared the equator and follow the current there?

Six months of stalking a human town, fighting off other sirens, only to abandon it once the GiW came out in force, and then start marauding Atlantean settlements out of nowhere? Something extraordinary had to have happened. According to Arthur, Phantom had never been seen by his soldiers before. Perhaps Phantom had completed whatever goals he had in Amity, and was transitioning to his next move on Atlantis.

Phantom was young, or at least appeared young. Likely no older than fifteen. The fact that no records show any similar pattern of behaviour ruled out the possibility of it being some kind of coming-of-age ceremony. It seemed Phantom was an outlier among his species.

If sirens travelled in pods, then where was Phantom’s?

“It’s funny you mention that, since he wasn’t alone. There was a tiny child with him. I think he was about five years old or so. The boy carried weapons like a warrior, and blasted my soldiers with energy beams from a futuristic wrist gun. I’ll sent you the sketch the commander sent me.”

Bruce confirmed his receipt of the sketch. His eyes widened.

Emblazed on the gun’s side was a very familiar logo, a flaming blue F for Fenton.

The conversation ended soon after, with Arthur promising to forward him translated copies of the reports.

Bruce clasped his hands, holding them tight as he pondered (not brooded, despite what Dick insisted).

It seemed Phantom’s lack of morality couldn’t sink further. He had manipulated Amity Island teenagers into assisting him, and now he was leading what was basically a toddler half of Damian’s age into dangerous battles against trained soldiers.

Bruce’s will hardened with righteous anger. This Phantom was barely fresh off his last crime before preying on another child. He had to be stopped.

Suddenly he had three children to save now.

Please be ok, Damian…

#dpxdc #danny fenton #merman #damian wayne #dcxdp #merboy #angst #mermaid au #atlantis #atlanteans #good parent bruce wayne #arthur curry #bruce wayne is bad at feelings

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iridescentpull · 12 days

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Wrote a little ficlet inspired by this post. Enjoy <3

In Ramón’s defense, he thought he was no longer allergic to cinnamon.

He hadn’t really had the chance to eat anything with cinnamon since they were taken to the Purgatory Islands. Then he got back, and the focus was on feeding him actual meals that would heal and strengthen his body again. Plus, Fit wasn’t one to cook things other than avocado toast except for tasks.

So when Pac asked him if he’d like to try some churros he made, he thought sure, why not. He’d heard food allergies disappear as one grows older, so the same thing probably happened to him. If not, he’s an older dragonling, so he could probably take it. It would be fine.

Probably.

***

It was not fine.

As soon as he took a bite of the dough, it was like his tastebuds were on fire, and that the flames were cinnamon and sugar flavored. He made a face and then coughed as the spices made his throat start to tickle.

Pac was a little confused at his reaction. “Don’t you like them?” He asked, concerned. “Did I put too much cinnamon? You can tell me, I won’t be offended.”

The dragonling shook his head, eyes tearing up as he felt hives rise from his skin. With a shaky hand, he signs. ‘No, they’re good!’ He tried to sign back, before a coughing fit made his hands shake even harder. ‘I’m just... allergic? To cinnamon.’

That made his Pai’s eyes widen. “Wait, are you having an allergic reaction?”

Ramón nodded.

“Puta merda.” The male cussed, ruching to his potion chest and scrambling through it. “Your dad is gonna kill me!”

‘Pai.’ The dragonling tried to sign, but he wasn’t able to do much with the way his hands shook, and his skin was starting to break out into a rash. ‘It’s okay!’

Pac wasn’t paying attention, though, and instead was frantically digging through the chest. He let out a sigh of relief when he pulled out two healing pots and a slimeball. “Here!” He shoved one of the healing pots in Ramón’s wavering mouth, and the dragonling was glad he managed to swallow the entire thing before coughing out.

‘Pai.’ He tried to sign, again. ‘It’s okay. I promise! Fit won’t be mad!’

His father said nothing, too busy mixing the healing pot with the slime to create a healing cream for the hives that had begun to rise. After he created the mix, he gently grabbed one of Ramón’s arm and started spreading it over the hives.

“Oh, this could’ve been bad.” Pac mumbled, as he moved to spread the cream over the hives on Ramón’s neck. “Your dad is gonna kill me.”

‘Fit’s not gonna kill you.’ The dragonling signed, but the other wasn’t looking at him, too focused on treating the hives. ‘It’ll be fine, you didn’t know.’

The older man sighed and looked up, eyes a bit misty. “I didn’t want to hurt you though, nenê.” He said, looking down to grab the other’s arm and spread the cream as well. “I promised to Fit I wouldn’t hurt you.”

Ramón's eyes widened at that, and he bit his lip guiltily. ‘Sorry, pai.’ He signed, looking down. ‘It was an accident, and you didn’t know. I promise I won’t do it again.’

That got a sad chuckle out of his father, who finished applying the cream and moved to gently hug him. Ramón hugged him back, and the two sat there for a bit.

“Thank you, nenê.” He said, before pulling away. “I’ll keep a stock of healing pots and a slimeballs around just in case, okay?”

‘Alright.’ Ramón signed, smiling up at him with that twinkle in his eyes. ‘Dying to an allergic reaction would suck, now that I think about it.’

Pac cackled, shaking his head. “It would.” He agreed, patting Ramón’s hair. “There are way more cooler ways to die.”

‘There are!’ Ramón cheered, making his father laugh. ‘Like hanging!’

The Brazilian’s eyes brightened. “You are so right, nenê.”

***

“You did what?!”

‘Whoops?’

“Ay Ramón…”

#qsmp #pactw #fitmc #qsmp ramon #fitpac #aynee writes

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heesdreamer · 1 year

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SILENCED (4)

MASTERLIST

GENRE ➩ enhypen zombie apocalypse au!

SUMMARY ➩ navigating life 1 year post end of the world was already difficult as you avoided rotting corpses with hefty appetites and groups with various bad intentions. things get harder when you run into a group of survivors, 7 boys who make it impossible to run away.

WC ➩ 6k

WARNINGS ➩ death gore blood um zombies and everything the apocalypse brings…

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ Hello, me again lol Sorry it’s been so long since the last update on this I’ve had other stuff I was prioritizing but thank you to the people following and enjoying this story! The updates are a lot smaller than my usual works and that bugs me a bit but I have a lot planned and it won’t be such a long gap between each chapter from now on lol. Reminder to check out the playlist for hints and general vibe! NOT PROOFREAD but u knew that

“What are you even talking about dude, I beat you five to one easy. It wasn’t even close.” Jake’s voice was laughing out as he rested back on the couch, swinging an arm forward in emphasis towards his friend.

“No you don’t get it, if we had a rematch I’d whoop you.” Jay was quick to respond, a gloomy look on his face from losing so terribly and the younger boys broke into a fit of giggles at his attitude.

The day had been quiet, picking up each other from school one by one and heading back to Jake’s place. His mom had been out of town for the month on a business trip and it’d become their official club house for the time being, messier than it should’ve been with blankets covering any surface that could serve as a temporary bed.

Heeseung was pushing through the front door with a strange expression on his face, glancing behind in the hallway before locking the deadbolt and peaking out of the peephole. Sweat was coating his face and the other boys stopped laughing as they looked at him.

“It’s that bad out there now?” Jungwon was asking in a soft voice and Heeseung jumped a bit before glancing at him and giving him a solid nod.

News stations had been buzzing for weeks but nobody paid too close of attention outside of the people with particularly raging anxiety. Reports of cannibalisms, first in America and then the neighboring countries.

The boys hadn’t thought much of it, some crazy new drug that would never make it this far or mass hysteria. Then it was announced that it was a disease, something that couldn’t be helped and borders could not stop and things started to get a bit more wary. Some stores were shutting down, families leaving to their summer houses out in the country and yesterday Jay had been cut from work early.

“I don’t know, I don’t think we can wait anymore.” Heeseung was muttering and Jake sat up on the couch, raising an eyebrow in bewilderment.

“You mean like leave? Where would we even go?” He was asking and his question made them all fall silent, knowing he was right and they didn’t have a safe haven to disappear to like others did. They all had families but they weren’t extremely close now that they were older, spending most of their time together and only coming home to get scolded for poor grades.

Heeseung was shaking his head and turning towards them fully to scan the room, freezing up slightly when his head count came up one short. “Where’s Riki?”

“He.. had that exam I think. Must’ve had to stay late.” Sunoo was saying it slowly to try and explain but a feeling of dread settled over everybody at the realization he was out there alone, not yet realizing how quickly things were falling apart.

“Is it really that bad Heeseung?” Jay was asking in confusion, just yesterday they all were walking around casually outside of the few religious nut jobs screaming about the end of days.

Heeseung didn’t say anything for a long time, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to relay what he had saw or if he just wanted to let them think things were okay for a few minutes longer. He knew he had witnessed stuff that wasn’t going to be fixed anytime soon, stuff that would change how they lived from now on and he wasn’t sure he was ready to fully embrace that.

He was clearing his throat to speak but the words fell short and he made his way over to the kitchen counter instead, taking Jungwon’s moms keys and glancing at him for permission.

The younger boy looked confused but he gave him a small nod, eyes widening a touch when the oldest hesitated before going back into the kitchen and returning with the largest cooking knife available.

“Woah, you can’t go out there with that. You’ll get arrested dude.” Sunghoon was rushing out, suddenly paying attention and alert now as he sat up off the couch and raised his hands towards Heeseung.

“I don’t think there’s anybody left to arrest me.” He was spitting out but he wasn’t angry at his friends, just stricken with fear and anxiety at the thought of returning back outside but he couldn’t stand the idea of Riki being out there alone.

“Well I’ll come with you.” Jay was announcing and standing up, wiping off the chip crumbs from his sweater. Heeseung almost denied him and demanded he stayed here and kept the doors locked but he figured he might not be able to make it alone and Jay was definitely the most capable of the two of them, strong and sturdy despite his carefree personality.

“The rest of you need to stay put. I don’t care what you hear, or how long it takes for us to come back, you can’t open that door.” He was warning the group and they all paused in fearful hesitance before slowly nodding, the idea of not searching for their friends after a period of time leaving them unsettled.

The two eldest were making their way out of the apartment building, stopping at the entry door to push a vending machine in front of it. Jay looked confused when Heeseung asked him to do it but he followed suit anyways, not wanting to deny the orders considering the fear in his friends face.

Jungwon’s moms van was large and loud, rattling when you pressed too hard on the gas pedal and squealing every time it forced its large frame to a stop. They didn’t drive it often, outside of trips to the beach and going through drive thru’s, and Heeseung was grateful that the roads were uncharacteristically empty as he amateurly made his way through the city streets.

It was complete silent as they pulled up to their youngest friends school, both holding their breath as they leaned forward to see out of the driver side window and try to catch sight of any sign of life.

Heeseung’s heart was throbbing and he felt sick, almost too scared to go and find the boy in case he saw something he wasn’t able to ever forget, something he wouldn’t be able to move past. Jay’s hand was reaching forward to take his arm and he glanced at the other boy, seeing him give him a firm nod with a look of determination. Heeseung gave him a weary smile in return but it was the boost of strength he needed to open the door.

There was debris around the area from the days of mild chaos leading up to this and Jay bent down to grab a particularly long piece of metal, steadying it in front of him like a baseball bat as they got closer to the school doors.

They were unlocked and they quickly realized something was wrong judging by the papers scattered along the hallway, backpack’s abandoned in classrooms like they had to evacuate fast and Heeseung could smell something foul that caused his nose to turn up in disgust.

“Riki.” It was a yelled whisper echoing through the halls, carrying the noise all the way down the silent building until it was reaching the end and bouncing back towards them.

“Hyung? Is that you?” A scared voice was coming from the end of the hallway, shaky and muffled like he was hidden behind something and the two older boys let out a sigh of relief at the confirmation that he was at least okay enough to respond.

They were swift in their approach towards the room the voice had come from, forgetting to be cautious because of their relief and rush to get out of there but they quickly froze when a figure was coming out of one of the classrooms in the middle of the hallway.

Heeseung automatically recognized the signs of the creatures he had seen earlier, staring at the man who was staggering into the hall and turning towards them with his nose in the air. His eyes were yellow and vacant and he had dark liquid around his mouth, still moving his jaw like he was finishing a large meal. The man groaned loudly in their direction, bordering on a screech and the boys could do nothing but stare.

“What the fuck?” Jay was rushing out in an anxious tone, glancing over to his friend who was remaining still and watching it carefully. “Dude what’s wrong with him, what the fuck?”

“He’s got it.” Heeseung was stating matter of factly and Jay paled at the realization, shaking his head in disbelief and faltering backwards a few steps.

Heeseung was approaching the creature slowly and they both jumped when it reared its head and roared in agitation, sloppily approaching them and not faltering even when it almost slipped and crashed into the floor. They watched it approached speedily and when it got near they both circled around it’s back, confusing it momentarily but not long enough before it was attacking again.

The creature pinned Heeseung back against the wall, his hands flailing in front of him as he tried his hardest to shove it away with cries and groans of fear. It’s strength was double what a normal man’s would be and he was seconds from giving up when it was slumping to the ground.

Heeseung dropped off the wall and scrambled over to Jay who was panting with the piece of scrap metal in front of him, dripping thick syrupy blood now that he had smashed it into the figure.

They both watched in horror, attempting to catch their breath, as it begun to rise off the floor again. Shakily standing back to its full height and snarling again at them, seemingly angrier now.

“Oh you’ve gotta be shitting me.” Heeseung was panting out as he stared up at its cracked skull, half of its face sliding downwards and a bloodied mess from the force of Jay’s swing mixed with days of decay.

Both boys watched it as it started to approach again and then Jay was letting out a loud scream, taking a few steps forward and swinging the metal back down on its shoulder. They both froze in anticipation and then fear when the creature didn’t react to the hit at all.

“Oh what the fu-“ He was cut off as the creature swung at him and he dove out of the way with a grunt. “How do you kill this thing?”

“Why the fuck would I know?” Heeseung was screaming back in bewilderment, glancing around in confusion to try and find a way out of the situation but coming up with nothing as he turned back to keep his attention on the man who kept getting more and more unhinged the louder they avoided him and his gaping mouth.

The creature wasn’t getting winded whilst the boys were barely managing to swing their arms anymore, using this to its advantage and catching Jay off guard. Heeseung watched in horror as it pinned his friend to the hallway floor, listening to his screams of terror and gasp of air from under its heavy frame.

He didn’t think twice before he was rushing forward, and throwing the entirety of his weight into its body. He let out a guttural scream and pulled his arm back as far as it could go before driving the knife forward into its softened skull. Jay was, thankfully, getting the memo and rolling out of the way before the creature slammed onto the floor, now fully lifeless.

Both boys collapsed to the floor in fits of gasps and pants. Nobody spoke for a few minutes from shock and then Jay’s tired voice was ringing out. “Dude… you just totally saved my life.”

It was silent again for a few seconds before Heeseung was letting out a soft chuckle, launching the other into a fit of delirious laughter until they were both cracking up with the body in between them.

“Holy shit.” Both boys were pausing at the sound of Riki’s voice, a lot closer now as he pushed his way out of the classroom and was watching them from the end of the hallway. “You guys totally killed Mr. Kim.”

“And then what?” Your voice was completely enthralled as you spoke, leaning forward towards the campfire so your elbows were on your knees and you thought you saw Jake’s lips curl up from the corner of your eye.

“Well… we went back to get the others. We tried to get to family but..” Jay was trailing off but you nodded in understanding and he gave you a grateful look before sighing and continuing with his story. “Heeseung found a map in the pocket of a dead guy on the highway out of the city and he had circled the general area that you found us in, so we assumed it was safe.”

“And it was.” Jake was adding and it was some of his first words of the night, having remained mostly silent and to himself throughout your trip.

It had been two days since you left and you knew everybody was feeling unsettled by the fact you were heading back home now to the unknown. It was a mostly uneventful journey, not stopping much or sleeping more than a few hours with a shared determination to get there and back as soon as humanly possible.

You felt like the universe had cut you a break when you arrived to the veterinary hospital Jungwon had seen on the map, only encountering a handful of walkers and finding some medicine that should do the trick fairly quickly. But you knew the universe wasn’t kind nor was she fond of handing out breaks so your stomach clenched with the idea of what could be waiting for you back at the camp.

Sunghoon could’ve died from blood loss and infection and passed along the traumatizing act of putting him down before he turned, or he could’ve turned in the night and taken out a few of his brothers before anybody was awake enough to put a stop to it.

You knew the two boys with you were thinking similar things so you’d ask for a story to try and keep their minds off of it, listening to Jay carefully as he recounted the first time they’d killed a walker and how happy Riki was that it was his mean teacher that often stuck him in detention.

“Heeseung was our leader before he was ever our leader.” Jay was remarking as he finished his story, scooting down more into the dirt so his back was fully pressed against the rotted log he was resting on.

Jake hummed in agreement and you didn’t say anything, thinking about the statement and the conversation you’d had with the eldest boy about the weight of his responsibilities. You felt a longing for him suddenly, missing him and the others more than you thought you would and you could tell the two with you were thinking the same thing now that it was falling silent again.

You didn’t say anything as you were standing up to stomp out the fire, knowing it was already a risk to strike it up in the first place but especially to sleep with it roaring.

The three of you followed the same routine as the past two nights, stringing up cans in a circle around where you were sleeping so if anything, dead or alive, bumped into it you’d have some form of warning before it was coming down directly on top of you. You laid your head down in the pile of leaves and tried to ignore the sticks sitting uncomfortably under your shoulder blades, falling asleep to the sounds of the forest and the two boys breathing.

——

You’d been walking for a few hours before seeing anything familiar but your body was alert to the fact you were getting closer to the camp again, this time with a backpack full of supplies and a prayer in the back of your mind that things would be okay.

It didn’t take long for you to realize something was off about your surroundings, the woods unusually silent and resting like all the animals and trees were holding their breath. You raised your hand and folded it, a silent signal for the boys to stop walking and fall into a crouched position behind you.

Your eyes were hurriedly scanning over the forest floor and your heart sank when you noticed multiple pairs of tracks and footprints that wouldn’t have been from your group, having no reason to venture this far out. You waved Jake and Jay closer and they quickly shifted forward in their crouched position.

“Is it a hoard?” Jake was whispering to you when you pointed out the shoe prints in the mud, glancing at you with a worried expression. Jay’s eyes were dark with concern and his face was hard, glancing in the direction of the others and frowning.

“I don’t think so.” You were shaking your head and sighing softly as you trailed your finger around the indented mud to explain to them. “The steps are too direct and pointed, if it was walkers they’d be messy and all over the place.”

“So it’s people then.” Jay was saying matter of factly and you all feel into a heavy silence, knowing you had no choice but to continue on the path back home, regardless if there was anybody left waiting for you or not.

You didn’t bother wasting anytime, falling into fast and silent footsteps and you maneuvered your way through the woods, guns drawn and knives out of your holster in case any of the people were still around and surveilling the surrounding woods.

Jay caught sight of something long before you did and you were grateful for his hand that shot out to stop you from rushing right into the view of the man you could now see, pacing back and forth in the center of the little houses and keeping an eye out for anything out of place.

You lip curled up in a sneer but you weren’t exactly sure what to do. If it was up to you, you’d simply take him out from a distance but you didn’t know how many were inside with the boys and if any more were not here, not wanting to risk the safety of the others or the three of you by acting on impulse. Jake seemed to be thinking something similar considering he was tapping your shoulder to get your attention, indicating down to your knives after you looked at him.

You understood what he was implying but you stared at him for a few seconds to make sure he was certain, realizing you hadn’t yet discussed the groups morals when it came to the living.

His eyes were hard as he gave you a solid nod and he mouthed for Jay to have your back as you moved in silent towards the patrol. The man didn’t have time to react before you were behind him, listening to the sound of Jay whistle and bring his attention forward before you were wrapping your hand around his forehead and tilting his head back so his neck was fully exposed to you.

He let out a gurgled shout as you slid your knife across his throat, grunting softly under his weight as you tried to lower him to the ground as silently as possible.

You looked up at Jay after he was on the ground, watching him carefully as he gave you a small nod of acceptance and you sighed softly before returning it to him and waiting for Jake to come out of the woods and meet you. The three of you ducked against one of the houses, your backs pressed against the wood as you listened to try and get a guess of how many people were inside.

“I say we just kill him already.” It was a woman’s voice and she was speaking in a nasty rasp like she was a heavy smoker, your heart pounding at the sentence she spoke. “He’s half dead already, I’ll be pissed if he turns on us and takes a chunk out of my arm.”

You glanced at Jake after she was done speaking and he was already looking at you, both of you relieved to hear that she was talking about Sunghoon still being alive, immediately followed by the dread of what she was implying they should do.

“Touch him and you’ll have bigger problems than him turning.” Heeseung’s voice was speaking now and it was dropped to an octave you’d never heard it in before, cold and serious and he threatened her in a deadly tone.

You heard an annoyed scoff from a male voice before it was followed by the sound of low groans of pain that you made out to be Sunghoon’s, wincing slightly at the hurt in his cries.

“Do something then.” The males voice was speaking in a teasing manner and you heard Sunghoon groan again, likely being hit or kicked by somebody inside to prove a point towards the other boys helplessness. “Oh.. you can’t, that’s right. I forgot.”

There was more sounds after that but you couldn’t fully tell what they were, feeling sick and helpless where you were sitting until Jay was snapping his fingers and getting both of your attention back on him.

He was making signals with his hand and you swiftly understood that he was implying he wanted to rush inside and take them out before they had a chance to react or take any hostages, using the element of surprise to your advantage. Jake seemed more hesitant in the idea although you figured it was only the two of them inside the small house, seeing the car they had arrived it and doubting it could fit more than four people.

Your eyes wandered over to the body on the ground and you steadied your footing in the dirt before nodding softly to Jay and patting Jake on the back.

It went extremely fast, your mind on complete autopilot and devoid of any extreme emotion to help you get through the terrible act without hesitating or missing your shot. Jake was kicking the door open roughly and then stepping back to allow you and Jay to rush forward, relief rushing through you at the confirmation it was only two people and then followed by horror considering how easily you were able to sink your knife into the skull of the woman.

She’d barely had a second to process your arrival, eyes widening in fear and letting out a painful gasp of shock before her face was lifeless and she was crumbling to the floor.

You felt slightly sick that it had been so easy for you to kill two people in the span of minutes but you glanced up at the scared boys huddled around the house and you realized that you didn’t regret it, that you’d do it 100 times again if it was necessary.

Heeseung was tied to the radiator next to Sunghoon, clarifying the reason he hadn’t even able to stop their assault on the boy and you glanced at him to see him far paler and more lifeless than he had been when you’d seen him. He was still alive however and you were rushing to grab the supplies from your bag when you noticed the horror on the boys faces, eyes over your shoulder.

You froze up but before you could turn to see what they were seeing, a shot was ringing out close to your ear and you were completely disoriented for a few seconds.

It took awhile to process what had happened, turning your body in a panic to see a fourth man laying in the doorway of the house. His knife was still rattling against the floor from where he’d dropped it and you saw the exit wound coming out from the backside of his head. You spun back around and your heart crumbled when you saw who it was that had killed the man, saving your life by taking another’s.

Riki was holding the gun in shaky hands, barely able to keep it steady and his eyes were wide in shock and horror, keeping it pointed in your direction despite the threat being gone now.

“Riki.” You were saying softly, still frozen but raising your hands in surrender and taking a small step towards him. You didn’t necessarily think he would hurt you but he clearly wasn’t thinking straight and his fingers were still dangerously tight around the trigger. “Riki, it’s okay. You got him, he’s dead.”

His eyes shot to yours at the words and his face softened slightly, letting you approach and take the gun from his rigid hands.

He was dropping his shoulders in relief once the metal was out of his hands, shocking you by pulling you in for a tight hug that knocked the air out of your lungs. You returned it after a few seconds, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and squeezing him tightly with your eyes shut. You could hear the others moving around, untying Heeseung and greeting the others.

After Riki let you go and went to sit down in the corner and calm down, you quickly administered the medication into Sunghoon’s veins and sighed softly at the heavy breath he took at the feeling of it entering his system. You pushed his damp hair off his sweaty forehead and smiled softly at him even though he couldn’t see it, happy he had managed to fight for this long.

You were standing up again and immediately bumping into another frame, pausing until you realized it was Heeseung.

His hands were coming up to cup your face and you smiled at him in relief despite the cuts on his face and the noticeable black eye that you imagined had come from the struggle with the looters that had led to him being the only one tied up. “You gave them hell didn’t you.”

He laughed softly at your words and nodded his head, eyes gentle as he looked down at you and you felt your heart clench uncomfortably at both his expression and how much you had missed him.

You thought this about them all as the night continued on, telling them how your run had gone and listening to them laugh and tell funny stories that you didn’t fully understand but you still felt a lightness in your heart just from how excited they sounded about remembering the smallest details of things that had happened to them together in the old world.

Riki was still a but subdued after what had happened, not speaking much and staying in the corner as you all ate dinner and took sips from the liquor bottle the three of you had found on the trip. He seemed a bit out of it and your heart felt heavy after Jungwon had leaned in to whisper and explain to you that he had never killed somebody before.

You felt guilty that he had done something like that to save you, your own mistake for not assuming there was another person still outside or checking the tracks more carefully because you were too worried about them and too focus on getting inside as soon as possible. Your care was making you stupid and making you weak, leaving the youngest to lose a piece of himself to fix your mistake.

It was this that made up your mind for you, solidifying that you couldn’t stay here with them any longer or else things like this would keep happening. You’d have to continue to risk yourself for them and vice versa, you couldn’t take watching them hurt themselves in the name of saving you or each other and you knew now that they were always going to put the others and you over themselves individually.

You kept reminding yourself this as you silently packed your bag, waiting for the others to fall asleep and leave you on watch duty before you were preparing to slip out.

You’d stay in the woods outside the camp for the night and make sure nothing hurt them during your watch cycle and then you were going to disappear into the dark cover of the trees once the next person on the rotation woke up and found you missing. You left them all of the medication and food, taking nothing but your change of clothes and your knives.

The crickets were extra loud as you made your way outside, having carefully stepped over the sleeping boys and left a note with detailed instructions on which medications to give to Sunghoon and when. You included a small goodbye sentence just so they knew you hadn’t been taken and didn’t get hurt trying to find you, although you had a feeling they’d try anyways.

You were barely off the porch, your foot hitting the dirt softly and feeling the cold chill of the night when a voice behind you was causing you to jump and spin around.

“So that’s it then?” You whipped around with wide eyes but your face crumbled when you realized who it was, seeing Heeseung come out of the shadows with a hurt expression and hooded eyes. “You’re not even going to say goodbye?”

You froze as you looked at him, words falling short as your mouth open and closed in silence. He scoffed as he looked at you, turning his head away as his eyes teared up slightly but he shook his head in anger before taking a few steps in your direction with a raised accusatory finger.

“You’re just going to leave after all this?” He was spitting out at you and the tone of his voice, the disgust lacing his words, made your heart drop into your stomach with a crushing weight.

“I have to.” You replied back with desperation, your face curling up in anguish and you tried to get him to understand even slightly what your reasoning was. “Sunghoon almost died Heeseung, and Riki he… these things will keep happening.”

“He didn’t die.” He was almost yelling now and you flinched back at the volume of his voice, having half a mind to shush him softly and watching the way his face curled up in anger at the sound slipping through your lips. “He didn’t die Y/N, and you were the one who made sure of that. You care about us, I know you do.”

You didn’t know how to reply to that, not wanting to correct him especially when he wasn’t wrong.

You did care about them and it was making your skin crawl every time you found yourself smiling affectionately at one of their offhanded jokes or paying extra attention to their wounds and bruises. Even more so with the boy in front of you with the gentle way he touched you to make sure you weren’t injured, when his face was lit up by campfires or his determination to lead a group of boys through a world he himself didn’t understand.

“I can’t watch it happen.” Your voice was breaking and your shoulders sagged in upset, exhaustion wracking through you both emotionally and physically. “And it always happens, Hee.”

“It won’t happen this time.” He was taking more steps towards you and his hands were shakily coming up to hold your face, staring down at you with his own sense of determination to try and help you see his side of things. “Why didn’t you say bye to me?”

He was asking but you knew he already knew your answer and you tried to pull out of his touch to avoid answering, stopping when his thumb was gently rubbing your cheek and shaking his head to try and stop you.

“Because you wouldn’t be able to leave.” He was answering for you, filling in the blank and giving you a soft sad smile that made you break into a sob, your first time allowing yourself to cry for as long as you could remember. “Right? Tell me I’m right.”

You didn’t say anything but you didn’t need to, feeling him pull you in tightly against his chest as you fully let yourself feel the wave of your emotions, restricting them for so long in the name of survival and fighting to make it through the day.

Heeseung was keeping you in his embrace even when your legs were giving out and you were sinking to the floor in his arms, your hands hitting the dirt and feeling it mold between your fingers. You hooked your head over his shoulder and shut your eyes tight when your gaze fell on the body of the man you’d killed so easily earlier.

You let him hold you like that until your sobs were slowing down and the blood was drying in the grass.

You stayed like that far longer than you’d realized, sitting still and frozen until your cries slowed down and his blood had fully dried in the grass.

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daisyrb-gvf · 2 months

Text

Cruising Into Love

d.r.w. x f!reader

My first post on tumblr, but definitely not my first fic. Danny's cruise picture had this story pouring out of me, so I hope you all like it! I thought this first chapter would be longer than it is, but the next part of the story deserves its' own chapter.

Words: 3.2k

Summary: After 3 mundane months of working on a cruise ship, you're met with the most gorgeous man you've ever seen.

Warnings: plenty of swooning, language and brief mentions of f masturbation.

You sigh as you zip up the back of your fitted black dress. Another night, another performance. You love being an entertainer, and sitting behind the keys is as close to home as you can get on this ship, but after 3 months of your 8 month stretch, it is starting to feel so redundant, and there are only so many songs that are approved to perform at the piano bar. The boss wasn’t too pleased with your medley of LL Cool J songs with an audience consisting of mainly 50-80 year olds. Tight ass.

“Just three more nights and you get a break,” you reassure yourself as you touch up your makeup in the pathetically tiny mirror that looks huge in this shoebox of a bathroom.

“Alright girl, I’m off,” you say to your slightly-less-than-pleasant bunk mate. It could be worse, but it would have been nice to bunk with someone who actually seemed to give even half a fuck about you. At least she wasn’t mean. Just…distant.

“Kay,” she replied with enthusiasm akin to a corpse, not bothering to look up from the sketch she was working on. You sighed again, feeling like you’ll never be able to chip away at that wall. You didn’t come here to make friends, but damn, a little human connection would be nice sometimes.

– – –

Your body shuddered as you threw back a shot of tequila at the bar. “Thanks, Chris,” you said to the bartender-one of the few people who will have an actual conversation with you. He winked before flicking his eyes over to a young, classically hot dude. Boyish features, blue eyes, sandy blonde hair…you get it, but definitely not your type.

“Down boy,” you say with a chuckle as you wink back at him.

Settling down at the keys, the audience gives you a small applause as the chatting dies down.

“How’s everyone feeling tonight?” you ask the small crowd, mustering up as much enthusiasm as you can. You get a small cheer, and a few whoops from the more inebriated folks. “You mind if I play a few songs for you?” A louder cheer encourages you as your hands start to dance across the ivory keys.

Ooh you can dance

You can jive

Having the time of your life

Ooh, see that girl

Watch that scene

Digging the dancing queen

The crowd sings along with you-definitely one of the more tone-deaf groups you’ve played for, but at least they seem to be having fun. Dancing Queen is always a good opener, and one of your favorites, so you prefer to start the shows this way.

The crowd cheers as you segue into your next number. People are getting tipsier with each song, and you have to admit, it is pretty entertaining. Drunk crowds are typically great audiences unless they get belligerent.

“Alright, it’s been a blast playing for you all tonight,” you say as you start the intro to your final song.

I needed the shelter of someone’s arms

And there you were

I needed someone to understand my ups and downs

And there you were

WIth sweet love and devotion–

Holy shit. Who is that guy? A tall, dark, and handsome man emerged into your view after an elderly couple left the table in front of his. You miss a note and snap back into focus through the chorus. What the hell? Why is some random-admittedly gorgeous-dude throwing you off? That’s new. You make it through the second verse, but after that it’s impossible to not steal another glance. Your knees get a little shaky as you drink him in, thankfully keeping your shit together in your performance. You watch him sing along as he drums his fingers on the little bistro table. You realize you glanced a little too long once he smirks at you, locking eyes. You blush red and avoid the entire corner of the room where he is sitting for the rest of the song. Oh God, how embarrassing.

The crowd cheers as the song ends and you take a bow before immediately walking back over to the bar…which, unfortunately, is far too near the gorgeous man in the corner.

“One more tequila, please, Chris,” you say anxiously as he chuckles.

“Little flustered there, aren’t you? Wouldn’t have anything to do with that yummy Greek statue of a man there in the corner would it?”

“Shut up, Chris,” you whisper, your face turning redder by the second.

“Mmhmm, okay. Whatever you say,” he says with a smirk before walking to the other end of the bar serving the influx of post-performance guests.

Walking out of the room, you make it maybe ten feet before realizing you left your phone behind the bar.

“Shit,” you mutter to yourself, debating on walking back now or waiting until the crowd clears in hopes of avoiding the gorgeous creature who made you pathetically weak in the knees.

“Oh, come on, he is just a man. Get the fuck over it,” you mutter again, rolling your eyes at yourself. You turn around and make it one step before slamming straight into someone.

“I’m so sorry!” you both say in unison as large, warm hands wrap around your shoulders, steadying you. Of-fucking-course.

“Oh, no worries!” the insanely beautiful man replies, dropping his hands from your shoulders. The summer breeze feels colder than it had before as your whole body flushes.

“Oh-um-yeah, okay,” you sputter out with a nervous smile. Good God, get your shit together.

He chuckles, “Your performance was great. We loved it,” he says warmly as a beautiful, tall, brunette woman walks up next to him. Of course. There’s no way this man could be single. It only makes sense that he would have one of the most staggeringly gorgeous women on his arm.

“Yes, it was lovely!” she chimes in, hooking her arm through his as she reaches out a hand to shake yours.

“Oh, thank you!” trying to stay as cool as possible and not show your disappointment, you shake her hand and flash a smile.

“I’m Josie, and this is my brother, Danny,” she introduces.

Oh. Brother. He’s her brother. The relief you feel is embarrassing and you hope it doesn’t show on your face. You sense it does, based on the tiny smirk Josie is clearly trying to hold back.

“Nice to run into you,” Danny says with a chuckle, reaching his hand out to shake yours as well. He holds your gaze for just a moment longer than you expected. Just long enough for your breath to catch as you get lost in his dark hazel eyes…flecks of gold, brown, and green-the warmest eyes you’ve ever seen. He flashes a bright white smile that makes your chest tighten.

“Yeah, uh, you too,” you reply with a nervous giggle, your voice barely shaky. Oh my God, you are so fucking embarrassing.

“Come on, Dan. We’re late meeting mom and dad,” Josie says, leading Danny down the hallway. “Nice meeting you!”

“Yeah, you too!” You stay glued in place for a moment, watching them walk away. Damn, the back looks just as good as the front. Danny turns around at that moment, catching you staring. He smirks and winks before turning back around, disappearing as they turn a corner.

“Real smooth, you idiot,” you sigh, tossing your head back before walking back into the bar.

– – –

You got almost no sleep that night, and it infuriated you. Losing sleep over a man you barely met. Get a grip…but, those eyes-such a warm hue, long lashes, smooth, tan skin, he had a little dusting of freckles on his cheeks and angular, almost avian, nose. His features were masculine and sharp, with a jaw that could probably cut glass, but his kind eyes and heart-melting smile made him seem so…soft. You could tell he was a man who wasn’t afraid to do some grooming and pampering. With skin like that and shiny, dark brown, perfect ringlets of hair long enough to barely brush his shoulders…yeah, he put some effort into his appearance. His demeanor didn’t seem cocky or vain, though. Confident, sure, but not full of himself. Ugh, and then that body.

“Oh, come on,” you say exasperatedly to yourself as you roll over for what was probably the 20th time, trying to relax. “You’re not 13 years old. For God’s sake, you are 25. Act like it.”

You take a deep breath and relax one muscle at a time, feeling the gentle rocking of the ship lulling you to sleep. You start to drift off and the image of Danny turning around to wink at you jolts you awake again.

“What the hell? May as well just stop fighting it,” you say defeatedly, letting your mind drift off to Danny with no resistance. You close your eyes again as you try to remember every detail. His sun-kissed skin, broad shoulders, slender hips and legs, but you could definitely see the muscle definition under those tight black jeans. You let out a little giggle as you remember the cheesy little shark tooth necklace dangling on his collarbone, just above a small patch of black hair dusted on his sternum. His short-sleeved top was unbuttoned just below his pecs, leaving the rest of his torso up to your imagination. You find yourself imagining how it would feel to run your hands over his warm, undoubtedly hard, stomach before smoothing them around to his back, running up to his sturdy, broad shoulders. You know what would help you sleep, but even alone in your bunk, you’re embarrassed that seeing this man for a few moments would cause you to slip your hand into your shorts. You wonder if you had met him earlier in the day it would have given you time to shake it off. Maybe take a run around the 7th floor track that wraps around the ship on the deck. But for now, you need sleep, so you do what needs to be done. Thank God your bunkmate is working the overnight shift. It only takes a few minutes before you finish with a soft sigh, drifting off to sleep seconds later.

– – –

Hard as you tried, you can’t help but feel a slight pang of disappointment when Danny doesn’t show up at the next night’s performance, and you feel pathetic for that. This is a huge ship. It’s impossible to do even half of the activities offered, so why would he come to the same show twice? To see you? Come on, girl. Get real. The self-loathing is bubbling up inside you as you attempt to exhaust yourself by running seven miles. Does it work? Absolutely not. You’ve never felt so electric and energized. Any other time you would have been grateful, but not now. Not when, despite your exhaustive efforts, you still find yourself relieving that ache in your core before drifting off to sleep.

Rolling out of bed the next morning, you feel a bit better. The exhaustion from your run the day before caught up to you, and your legs feel like they are on fire. Thank God. Despite the pain, you brush your teeth, throw your hair in a bun, and slip on a tank top, shorts and running shoes, making your way to the 7th floor. Maybe after today’s run you won’t even think about him when you fall into bed tonight.

A small smile forms on your face as you close your eyes, feeling the sea breeze enveloping you as you step through the double glass doors onto the deck. Most people you know prefer to run out on forest trails, feeling the crunch of leaves and soft dirt under their feet, seeing the sun filter through quaking aspens, hearing songs from morning birds harmonizing together. You love it too, but the power and energy that the ocean offers can’t be beat. You start off with a slow jog, warming up your aching muscles, before finding your stride. You feel as if the ocean is running alongside you, the waves matching your pace. You finally start to feel like you’ve found your footing again-literally and figuratively. After your first lap you see a few more people making their way onto the deck. Most come out for a nice walk, just enjoying the view they don’t get to see often. You see a sweet old couple, moseying along hand-in-hand. Just walking silently. Comfortably together. This is a common sight around here, but you feel a bittersweet sort of heartache for just a moment before someone whizzes right past you.

Long legs, narrow hips, mess of dark chocolate curls tickling those broad, tanned shoulders with each step, the navy blue muscle tee giving you a much better view of those shoulders as they flex and move in tandem with his strong, lean legs. Legs that he clearly enjoys showing off based on the yellow shortie-shorts he’s sporting. You increase your pace with a surge of adrenaline, but also so you can get as close as you can to the view. As he reaches the curve of the track at the front of the ship, he looks over his shoulder at you, grinning before picking up his pace. Is he…challenging you? Oh, it is so on. You weren’t an all-state track star for nothing. You grin and take a deep breath, pushing yourself faster, the excitement dulling the burning pain in your thighs. Danny hears you round the corner as you catch up to him, chuckling through his steady, heavy breaths. You’re not letting those long, sculpted legs have an advantage over you. Ignoring the burn in your chest, you surge forward faster, eventually passing him. Looking over your shoulder you catch him staring at your ass. He quickly looks away and out at the ocean. If you weren’t puffing and panting so hard, you’d probably giggle, but it’s all you can do to stay focused and not let him catch up to you. You both run another lap, taking turns being in the lead before you both give up and just run at a steady pace next to one another.

“Okay, I give up,” he says, holding his hands up in surrender. “You’re good! How long were you running before I came out?” You couldn’t help but shiver slightly hearing the deep timbre of his voice between his panting breaths.

“Oh, just barely over a lap,” you reply, doing your best to not sound like you’re dying, and failing miserably.

“Safe to say this is something you do often?” He runs the back of his hand down his neck, wiping off a bead of sweat that rolled from his chin down over his prominent Adam’s apple.

Taking a big gulp of air that had nothing to do with your exhaustive run, you wipe sweat from your brow and try not to stare at his neck and shoulders glistening in the sunlight. “No, this is my first time,” you say as seriously as you can manage.

“Are you joking?!” he asks incredulously.

A laugh bubbles up at the sight of his adorably confused and surprised expression. “Absolutely. I’ve been running basically my whole life.” Your breathing is finally starting to slow along with his, the rise and fall of his chest and shoulders still exaggerated, but not as fast.

“Oh, thank God,” he replied, flashing that bright smile, your breathing picking up again ever so slightly.

“Bit competitive, huh?” You walk over and grab a couple of towels and water bottles from the recently restocked shelf.

He chuckles, “Yeah, I guess you could say that.” You hand him a towel and bottle and he immediately chugs half of the water, a tiny bit of it running down his chin, the small stream of cool liquid mixing with the sweat on his neck, traveling down his protruding Adam’s apple again. “Thank you,” he says, wiping his brow with the slightly scratchy fabric of the generic beach towel.

“Oh, yeah..uh, you’re welcome,” you awkwardly sputter, yet again embarrassed by the reaction this man is getting from you for basically just existing.

He drops his head, clearly trying to be a gentleman and hide his knowing smirk. After a brief awkward moment he looks out at the water. “Bet this never gets old, does it-getting to run with the waves every day?”

“Never,” you reply, with a contented sigh. “The ocean is the best running buddy I’ve ever had, no offense,” you giggle.

He chuckles back at you, “None taken. I totally understand. I wish I could do this every day.”

You both saunter over to the railing and lazily lean over the smooth, wooden bar.

“Well, they’re basically always hiring here. Want a job?” you ask with a chuckle.

“Don’t tempt me,” he replies, his large hands gripping the rail as he leans back slightly, enjoying the breeze. His damp curls already drying from the salty air.

“This sea breeze is really the only thing that could do any tempting. Cruise life behind the scenes isn’t very glamorous. I’m sure whatever you’re doing now is better than this.”

“Maybe so. Depends on the day.”

“So, what do you do?” you ask, turning around to lean your back against the railing as you take another sip of water.

“Danny! I thought you said you were going to wait for me?” Josie bursts through the glass doors, looking irritated. “Oh hi!” she says, flashing a bright smile-very similar to her brother’s-at you. “It’s good to see you again. You want to join us on our jog?”

Josie is so bubbly and bright. She has that magnetic energy that people are just naturally drawn to. Matched with her staggering beauty (that clearly runs in the family), you imagine that there are plenty of unsuspecting people out there who have been left in a haze by her presence. You find yourself just a bit jealous of whatever genes run in that family.

“Oh, thank you for asking, but I actually just finished up here. I don’t think I have another lap left in me,” you chuckle, finishing off what’s left of your water. “Not after kicking this guy’s butt,” you giggle nodding your head in Danny’s direction.

“Excuse me?” he retorts, “I do believe that it was a tie,” he laughs. My God, he has the most adorable laugh you’ve ever heard-kinda dorky, actually, and you are so glad this Greecian god has been humanized a bit, even if it did make your heart ache more for him.

“I believe you,” Josie loudly whispered to you with a wink, “and thank you for tiring him out a bit. Now I can outrun him,” she laughed before bolting down the track.

“Oh come on, sis! That’s not fair!” he called out, running after her. After a few strides he slowed down and turned around, running backward, “It was good to see you again!”

You watched him run down the track, frozen in place again, until he turned the corner.

“Guess I’ll be losing more sleep tonight,” you mutter with a sigh before walking inside to take an ice cold shower.

LOTS more Danny in the next chapter, I promise. I'm a slow-burner.

Go to Chapter 2

@spark-my-nature

#danny wagner #daniel wagner #danny wagner gvf #daniel wagner gvf #danny wagner fic #danny gvf #greta van fleet #greta van fic #greta van fleet fic #Spotify

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merlyn-bane · 3 months

Note

hi hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii if you're still doing foelu prompts i would love to see cody and helix and the baby just being soft dads <3333

or really anything helix-centric tbh

So uh,,,,this one got a little tiny bit out of hand and is much longer than the other fills have been, whoops 😅😅 I hope this is Helix-centric enough for you, my love<3 There's a little bit of everything, from fluff to humor to spice!

Without further adieu, I present to you Baby Part Two: Electric Boogaloo.

[Requests for Foelu missing scenes, future snippets, and extra vignettes are STILL OPEN. Please submit any requests you might have to my ask box. They will all eventually be cross posted on AO3 as well 🥰🥰]

~~~~~~~~

By the time Obi-Wan brings up the possibility of having another child, they’ve all pretty much accepted that it likely wasn’t going to happen. It’s not something they’d ever really discussed, after all, and none of them had really wanted to be the ones to bring it up for fear that Obi-Wan might feel in any way obligated to carry again just to give them another child. Especially given that—regardless of the fact that he’s made it very clear that he has no regrets about it now—the first pregnancy wasn’t exactly his choice to begin with and had been fairly traumatic from start to finish to say the very least. Helix had frankly assumed that Obi-Wan would want nothing to do with gestation ever again as long as he lived, and personally thought that would be more than fair.

Besides, just him and Kai-Tal are—so much more than enough. More than any of them ever thought they’d have.

He thinks it must have been either Waxer or Rex that had held out hope the longest, but after a decade passes with the Jedi giving no indication of even considering having another ik’aad, it becomes a little difficult even for them to think that he might change his mind eventually.

But then one day, he just…does. Helix couldn’t even say what could have possibly prompted it. They’re all just…settling in for bed one night, following a day just like any other, and then Obi-Wan’s sitting up and folding his hands in his lap all prim and then asking them if they might, perhaps, be interested in having another child. If they might like, even, to get a child on him themselves, in the standard natborn way.

Cody recovers enough to actually respond first, even if he’s still slack-jawed. “We’re—the Kaminoans made us sterile, cyare,” he murmurs, and it sounds like it breaks his heart to do so. It probably does. Who among them hasn’t thought of what that might be like, to have a child that’s part them and part Obi-Wan? “You know that.”

Obi-Wan considers Cody seriously, clearly taking the time to carefully mull over what he wants to say next. “Do we know that for certain,” he asks finally, “or is that just what you all were told?”

The five of them glance at each other with wide eyes. “I don’t think anyone’s ever checked,” Helix allows finally, the words sounding halting even to his own ears, “but I can’t imagine why they would lie to us about something like that.”

“Not lie,” Obi-Wan corrects, his brows furrowed thoughtfully. He strokes absently at his beard and Helix finds himself—rather surprisingly—having to work to suppress a small fond smile at the tic. “It is not a large leap, I feel, to think that Jango Fett himself might have been sterile, given the trouble he went to himself in order to have a son, and it’s feasible that the scientists didn’t think to ensure that you all would be, too.”

“But we’re…clones of him, mesh’la,” Waxer frowns, “isn’t that the sort of thing that usually gets passed down?”

Obi-Wan grins, suddenly, looking oddly conspiratorial. “Not if he became so as the result of an accident or illness rather than genetics.”

“Prime had spmumps as a youngling,” Helix whispers, feeling his own eyes widen a fraction further. “I saw it in his medical file. He—it’s—not impossible. In theory. It might…actually be worth looking into.”

The Jedi’s grin broadens. “Excellent,” he says. “And after that, we can have my contraceptive implant removed, and you all can come inside me one after another until it takes.”

“I vote we start practicing right now,” Boil growls playfully, yanking Obi-Wan into his lap by his hips and kissing his laughing mouth.

~~~

They aren’t…they aren’t sterile.

Every single vod in their polycule gets tested, and then a few of the others that they're closer to across different batches just for a larger sample size. There is some variation in their counts and other factors which doesn’t actually surprise him—even cloning to the sort of strict perimeters adhered to by the Kaminoans, some variability is inevitable—but it’s all consistent enough that Helix feels comfortable putting word out to the Vode at large.

It’s only then that Helix comes to his next concern.

Obi-Wan had not exactly been young when he’d carried the first time, not by natborn humanoid standards, and that had been a little over a decade ago. Helix by this point has done a fair amount of study and penned no small amount of papers on reproductive biology in a frankly somewhat surprising and entirely inadvertent specialization—has somehow become known as one of the foremost experts on the subject regarding the Stewjoni people within the Republic, much to Eil-Idh’s seemingly unending amusement, even—and is very much aware of the increased risks that come with pregnancy as a being gets older. Things like gestational diabetes or preeclampsia, not even to touch on the risks to the potential child themselves.

So Helix sets up a conference call with himself and Vokara with Eil-Idh to determine if such a pregnancy would even be truly feasible—because Helix isn't willing to risk Obi-Wan’s health, and he knows the others won't be either—and tries not to feel too much like he's been caught in a time loop.

The first words of of Eil-Idh’s mouth are “What has that damned fool managed te get himself into now?”, which Helix finds much funnier than he probably should and which garners snorts from him and Vokara both.

“That is about what I was wondering as well,” Vokara says dryly, raising a brow at Helix, and Helix sighs before scrubbing a hand down his face.

“Obi-Wan is thinking about carrying again.”

Eil-Idh blinks at him. “Aye? That's a surprise. I half figured the lad had mind te have his womb removed entirely by the end of the first one. How is yer wee one, anyhow? She was quite a precocious lass, last I heard.”

“Let’s just say that I'm glad we have so much help,” Helix replies wryly, smiling fondly despite that. “And that's about what I'd thought, too. He caught us all of guard when he brought it up, especially since it's been so long.”

“Aye, he's certainly nae spring nuna.” Eil-Idh drums her fingers on her desktop. “But then, I'll wager that's exactly what ye're calling me about. He's approaching fifty now, isn't he?” The midwife shakes he head, pursing her lips. “I've little doubt he could do it, stubborn and hardy as he is, and it wouldnae be te first I've seen, but it wouldnae be my preference.”

“I think this is where I come in,” Vokara grins, sitting forward and folding her hands together. “As Jedi, our relationship with the Force affects the impact that the passage of time has upon our physical bodies. As younglings we age on par with our Force-null peers because that relationship is still new, but the longer we have communed with the Force, the more that aging slows. Many Jedi that are not lost in the field live much longer lives than even other members of their own species.” Vokara turns an even more excited grin onto Helix. “And our observations over the last ten or so years have suggested that that effect may even be seen by those nulls that do spend enough time in proximity to us.”

Well that would explain a lot, Helix thinks. Even with the gene therapy that's long since been rolled out to them all to address their advanced aging, he's pretty sure his back should bother him a lot worse than it does. “So you don't have any concerns?”

“About his age? No. I wouldn't recommend that you go for a third, probably, but especially with Obi-Wan spending so much more time in the Temple now with access to the full breadth of our medical resources and what we learned from his first pregnancy, his age isn't what I'm worried about.” Vokara tilts her head a little. “I would be more worried about the potential of the advanced aging gene being passed down. It's dominant, isn't it?”

“It is.” Helix swallows. “You're worried it would double the rate of gestational development and put it past what his body could support.”

Vokara nods seriously before glancing over at the midwife. “What do you think, Eil-Idh?”

“I think I'd rather not find out,” she replies, blunt as ever. “How sure are ye that's how it would work?”

“Not very,” Helix answers truthfully. “That hasn't been my area of focus. But I can touch base with Kamino and see what they know; Bones is still out there last I heard.”

“Do that,” Vokara says. “We'll go from there.”

~~~

“Don't tell me our Jedi's gone and fuckin’ sprouted again,” Bones answers without preamble once the comm. connects, glancing up from a datapad. The other medic seems to be in the temporary office he's held for ten years, which reassures Helix that he's probably not interrupting anything critical.

“What, no ‘Hello, Helix, how are you’?” Helix mocks, “No ‘Been a while, vod, I'm surprised your sanity's still kicking’? ‘How's your ad'ika’? You're just going to jump straight in to asking me if we're having another one?”

“My bedside manner will improve when yours does,” Bones drawls. “You don't make social calls, Helix, you send me a text comm. every quarter and ask if my riduur has finally had enough of my attitude and fed me to the strill yet.”

“And I am continually disappointed.” Bones's Mandalorian wife seems to actually like him for some reason, despite his perpetual grouch and the fact that they're still on Kamino when Helix is near certain they'd been supposed to have a successful curry shop in Little Keldabe by now. Helix squints at him. “Obi-Wan wants to have another baby,” he tells the other man bluntly, “but he wants to do it the standard natborn way this time. I'm concerned about how our advanced aging would affect a pregnancy.”

Bones snorts. “We're just going to ignore the other glaring issue with this plan?”

“I've already run that part by Che,” he says irritably. “That's not what I asked you.”

“You didn't actually ask me anything,” the other medic points out. He folds his arms over his chest and leans back, raising an eyebrow. “Do you really think that over the span of a decade, none of our siblings have managed to knock up a natborn, Helix? Really.”

“Then how come this is the first I'm hearing about it?” he snaps. “We all still thought we were sterile until Obi-Wan made the suggestion that we check.”

“Well I suppose they must have wanted their privacy. You know we don't publish that shit publicly because the Republic media likes to turn any developments with the Vode since the war ended into a shitstorm of feel-good porn to soothe their own guilty consciences.” His brow raises a notch higher. “And I'm a little busy advancing our scope of knowledge to notify you personally. It's all on our private medical servers if you'd thought to look.”

Helix ignores the dig. Bones isn't actually wrong. “So it can work, then? Obi-Wan could carry our biological children safely?”

“Safely? If Che's comfortable with him gestating at all at his age, sure.” Bones taps his fingers against his bicep where his arms are still folded. “Comfortably? That's subjective. It's only the one molecule that actually causes the development rate to double; with the kid getting one modified gene from you and a standard one from the other parent, the development rate lands somewhere in the middle. From what I've seen gestation will probably last about seven and a half months and he'll feel more or less like he's carrying twins. His symptoms'll be worse and you'll want to monitor everything more closely but if you're asking if I think it'll seriously jeopardize him, then no. And since I know this'll be the next question: the kid would be able to receive the same gene therapy the rest of us did once they're born. We even already have the dosages figured out. They just can't receive it in utero.”

Helix frowns, mulling that over. It's beginning to sound doable, at least, but Helix would really prefer for his partner to not have to be miserable for seven and a half months if it can be avoided—even though he knows that such a thing would never be enough of a deterrent for Obi-Wan. Maybe even more so because of that. “What about IVF? Then we could edit the genes in the embryo stage like you all did for that first round of tubies after you got the gene therapy figured out. Get rid of the advanced aging factor altogether ahead of implantation.”

“Sure,” Bones agrees jovially, “if you think you can get Obi-Wan Kenobi to agree to leave the Temple for three weeks to undergo a series of medical procedures here on Kamino when his other option is getting fucked in his own bed.”

Helix groans, burying his face in his hands while Bones laughs at him. “I hate it when you're right,” he grumbles. “Genuinely.”

~~~

Helix lays all of this information out in front of the other members of the polycule once he has it so that they can make a decision together, because that's how they do things, and he'd been pretty sure going into it that he'd already known the answer, but Obi-Wan of course manages to catch him off guard regardless.

“So, you're telling me that if just have you all get me pregnant the old fashioned way, the baby's advanced aging can still be treated postpartum and I only have to be pregnant for seven and a half months?”

“Why are you saying that like it's a benefit?” Helix stares at the fucking madman he'd somehow managed to fall ass over bucket for, aghast.

For his part, Obi-Wan only shrugs placidly. “It certainly sounds like one to me.”

“Di'kut, did you miss the part where I also told you that your symptoms are going to be worse? It's going to feel like you're carrying twins, Obi-Wan.”

“Well Padmé managed it well enough,” the Jedi sniffs. “And I get to evict them a month and a half early. I'm failing to see the downside here, darling.”

Helix groans and buries his palms in his eye sockets, long-suffering. Cody pats him on the shoulder. The others just chuckle. “Why do I bother,” he mutters.

Obi-Wan grins, unrepentant. “Would you like to go first?”

~~~

Not all of the research that Helix does in the lead-up to Obi-Wan’s second pregnancy is quite so serious or unpleasant.

In fact, the fruits of some of it turn out to be quite fun.

For instance, Helix has read extensively about the ideal conditions for conception. The best diet for his partner in the lead-up, the most opportune timing, the optimal positions, et cetera. There's little truely empirical evidence for most of it, but if it might help and there aren't any major drawbacks that he can see? Helix sees no reason not to give it a shot.

There's also the fact that Obi-Wan has left the planning of all of these details in the conception of their second child in Helix's hands. He has allowed the careful scheduling, allowed Helix to direct things more in the bedroom (despite some mild teasing from the others, who have seemed happy enough to play along regardless), has even allowed Helix to plan out the majority of his meals for him—all with a considering gaze and a barely-there quirk to his mouth, as though the Jedi knows that some part of Helix is enjoying all of it more than he'd maybe expected. That he's getting off on the control and the willing submission of a man that Helix knows is one of the most stubborn motherfuckers in the galaxy when he wants to be. It's... heady. Very heady.

That man's head is in his lap right now, a pillow under his hips to support the angle they've been propped up into and Helix's fingers carding through the sweaty strands of his hair in an almost parody of a soothing touch while Cody feverishly ruts into his cunt—the cunt where Helix has already left his own spend. “Been a while since we've just run a train on you, hasn't it, Obi-Wan?” Helix croons, smirking at the hazy blue eyes that flicker up to his face when he speaks but don't quite focus. “You've gotten a little too used to just getting everything you want all at once, I think. Just look at you, ner jetii, you've only taken two of us and you're already out of your poor little head. Cody hasn't even come yet, you've still got four more loads to go.”

Obi-Wan chokes on a moan and the former commander swears viciously, readjusting his hold and shifting his knees a little and then picking up the pace even more, somehow. “Kriff,” Cody growls through bared teeth, a sentiment that seems to be echoed by the rest of them—Waxer, Boil, and Rex all staring slack-jawed at the sight that they must make. Rex in particular looks like he's just barely reigning himself in until it's his turn; but then, Helix wouldn't expect much else from the vod that frequently enjoys licking his own come out of the Jedi's hole only to fuck more into him in an endless cycle until Obi-Wan cries from the overstimulation.

Not that any of them had really been less affected when their partner confirmed that he'd had his birth control implant removed.

They all fuck him one after another until the Jedi's poor cunt is puffy and red and overflowing and then they leave him like that, with his hips propped up and laying back against Helix barely conscious and grinning like a dolt while they give their seed its best chance to take.

And then they do it all again the next night, just in case.

~~~

Helix is hovering.

Just a little bit—or maybe a lot, possibly. He knows he is. But with his partner approaching the halfway mark of his shortened pregnancy and every bit as miserable as Helix had feared, it's hard not to. He hasn't developed any signs of complications or any serious conditions, mercifully, but Helix is poised to catch it immediately if that changes.

“I hardly need an escort to the ‘fresher, darling,” Obi-Wan grits through his teeth as though he is not actively using Helix's arm to hold himself steady, clearly making an attempt to modulate his tone into something less biting but not quite managing. Helix barely notices at this point; the Jedi's hormones have been downright torrential, and the physical discomfort has been no help to his moods. If he is not waspish, he is weepy, and if he is not weepy, he is horny enough that Helix isn't certain they could've handled it with any less than the five of them they have.

He'd all but cried all over Kai-Tal when she'd earned the first bead of her padawan braid, and then again when she'd earned the second.

They are all managing as best they can.

“I don't want to see you fall over again, Obi-Wan,” Helix argues, though he's careful not to let the words sound accusatory. Obi-Wan scoffs anyway.

“You take one little tumble—”

“Your entire center of gravity is off and you know it,” Helix reminds him firmly. “Worse than the first time. I told you—”

“And I stand by my decision,” Obi-Wan snips, scowling. “Now would you very much mind either shutting up or fucking me?”

Helix snorts softly. “Yeah, alright, Master Kenobi. ‘Fresher first, then maybe we'll talk about it.”

~~~

Helix gets to be the one to deliver their son.

Obi-Wan’s labor goes much, much smoother the second time around—the exact way he’d wanted it to back then, even. The contractions begin in the morning just after firstmeal, and they all have plenty of time to reschedule any obligations they may have or delegate any responsibilities that can’t wait before things progress enough for them to walk down to the Halls of Healing, where they are met by Vokara and Bant.

If anything, with the absence of the stress and adrenaline that had kickstarted Kai-Tal’s delivery, Obi-Wan’s labor this time is slower than the Jedi would like. He spends a fair amount of time bouncing on an exercise ball and harassing his créchemate before things really start to kick off, and by then, Bant is more than ready to give him his epidural.

They all remember his feelings on that matter.

It’s Cody that Obi-Wan holds onto for support once it’s decided that it’s time for him to start getting into position, gripping his hands as he squats down. Assuming that Bant will be the one handling the delivery, Helix stands off to the side with the others and tries to fight the urge to pace until the Mon Calamari healer snorts at him and tilts her head.

“What are you doing over there?” she asks him, her voice all gentle teasing as she folds her arms across her chest. “You’re a medic too and it’s your baby.”

Helix swallows. “I—are you sure?”

“Oh for Force’s sake,” Obi-Wan snaps, pulling his head back from where he’d been pressing his forehead against Cody’s just enough to glare up at them. “Get down here. Bant and Vokara will be here to assist if needed but you are perfectly capable of catching our son, Helix.”

Helix will deny the goofy smile that takes over his face as long as he lives but is totally unable to help it as he moves into position, kissing Obi-Wan’s cheek along the way. “Alright, Obi-Wan,” he murmurs. “We’ve got you.”

“I know,” the Jedi grunts in response. The pushing starts not long after, and the next two hours pass in a blur of everybody working to help support Obi-Wan through the process in any way they can.

Helix has never been more in awe of their Jedi. It had been one thing to know, in theory, what he had gone through to bring Kai-Tal into the world. It is another thing entirely to actually watch him go through the process now and know that this time he’s doing it in a proper medical facility with the support of his partners and access to painkillers he hadn’t had then.

Their son comes into the world at seven pounds and eleven ounces just in time for latemeal at seven and a half months on the dot, screaming his fury at them all for the egregious crime of removing him from the quiet warmth of his father’s body and already looking…just like his buir’e. There’s a little bit of Obi-Wan in the shape of his eyes and chin, but other than that…

“You were right,” Helix tells his partner once they all finally have a moment to breathe, his voice unmistakably hoarse and wobbly as he stares down into their son’s perfect face. “Someone’s going to think you kidnapped him, one of these days.”

“It’ll serve me right, I suppose,” Obi-Wan snorts, looking tired but happy in the biobed he’d been helped into as he holds his arms out for the boy. Helix lays the baby on his chest—only a tiny bit hesitant to relinquish him—and Obi-Wan hums quietly as he smiles down at the boy before glancing back up at his partners, the five of them all crowded close. “We are still calling him Keeli, I presume?”All eyes go to Rex, who hasn’t bothered to wipe any of the moisture from his face as he stares down at their son. Keeli had been his batchmate, after all; Obi-Wan had insisted that they chose the child’s name this time since he’d chosen Kai-Tal’s, and they’d all been at a loss until Rex had quietly asked if they could name him after his vod that hadn’t lived to see the end of the war. None of them had had the heart to tell him ‘no’, and besides, there were much worse names in the galaxy than Keeli Kenobi. “Yeah,” Rex whispers, reaching down to stroke his thumb through the baby’s thatch of dark curls. “Keeli Kenobi.”

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