#aac language

[autisticdreamdrop]

no Bug do not have to use full proper grammar to use AAC. AAC communication should be considered an other language?? maybe. Bug think the way they communicate with AAC and TTS is Modified English. just like how in our system we use modified ASL to communicate as well. so what if bug say: "hungry. food. please?" instead of "hey i am hungry. can you make me food please?" there's nothing wrong with speaking with less words!! no AAC user should have to bend to neurotypicals that want AAC users to use full long sentences.. it dumb!!

[tontoemojis]

some ASL that I did recently !!! .

[k9emote]

FRISK ASL EMOTES

Someone needs to remind me to upload these on Tumblr and not just my discord server

"Hi"

"Bye"

"I"

"Me"

"My"

"You"

"Your"

"You're"

Flapping Stim (neutral)

Flapping Stim (smiling)

[forest-dwelling-abomination]

You know, wild thought, I don’t think that people with speech/communication based disabilities should have to *pay* to make themselves understood. I don’t think that you should be able to charge people 100 dollars for something they *require* to communicate with people and make themselves heard. That’s some bullshit.

Matter of fact, I don’t think anyone should have to pay to exist just because they’re disabled. To go *even* further, I don’t think anyone in general should have to pay to exist. Clean water, food, and shelter should be a right and not a privilege.

Also, sign language should be taught in school. I feel it would do us a lot more good that a couple years of spanish, that you then promptly forget, ever will.

[measlyfurball13]

I'm Still Here

Summary: Curly is rescued. He is given a voice. Supposedly.

---

It’s all a blur. Men in suits with helmets. Men in suits without. Any memories Curly might have of the rescue and its aftermath are blurred around the edges. He’s sure he drooled and screamed all through the process.

Funny. He doesn’t remember the pain. It’s as if his mind has painted over it in an easier color on the eyes. 

(He remembers her saying the same thing happens after childbirth-)

It’s only a few hours after the IV is jammed into his arm that reality crisps up again. He’s staring into the face of a nurse. The nurse is a he, and a different skin tone (than him) and utterly unrecognizable. That’s the first clue.

The second is the woman in the crisp suit. A lawyer, supposedly. Civil servant. Looking over him and sighing. Another woman enters and they discuss conservatorship. Curly doesn’t know what this means. He’s never had to worry about it. He grunts, even tries to form his lips into the shape of something, but nothing makes them turn to him and clue him in on anything. 

Next comes someone dressed in a slouched sweater pulling a cart. They’re setting up some sort of device around him. It takes several days though, and in the moments between the lawyer comes back, mutters a few things about an accident investigation, then disappears again.

The nurse usually doesn’t talk when he visits but one time he sits down in the chair across the room and solemnly says that both of Curly’s parents died in the time it took for the rescue team to find him and that his next of kin is a cousin. Cousin Sue, Curly guesses. She lived all the way in New York. 

The machine is completed. A screen hangs above his hospital bed. The person in the slouched sweater instructs him to look at the twenty-six letters on the screen, focus on the one he wants, and blink to select it. 

It takes him three hours to first produce the word “HELLO.” 

“Practice and you’ll get the hang of it.” Slouched sweater says.

Slouched sweater leaves. The nurse comes in. Moves the screen. Changes his bandages. Sets up the screen again. Leaves just before Curly can type “HELLO” to him. 

(A single word. A single word. He would have given anything for just a single word to her.)

Now the lawyer drags the chair beside his bed and sits down. She’s holding a notepad and a pen. 

“Tell me,” she says, slowly, “what happened aboard the Tulpar.” 

He forgets to breathe. 

“What,” she says, “caused,” she says, “the accident?” 

Words pierce his brain like knives, his eye darts around the keyboard and his eyelid can’t keep up and it blinks without his command. Letters spill across the screen and he’s having to backspace them and-

The lawyer has put down the notepad and has opened her phone. She’s texting someone else. Then she takes a call. Then she answers some emails. 

-Curly finally blinks ‘send’ on the console, and a tinny voice reads out “JIMMY.” 

“Hmm?” The lawyer looks up from her phone. “Jimmy? As in, your co-pilot?” 

“Y” Curly sends, hoping that the lawyer can at least wrap her head around something as simple as that.

“Go on.” The lawyer urges.

Curly exhales against his bandages, and types “E” and “S”. 

“What about him?” 

“K”. Then “I”. “L” and “L”, the lawyer is pulling out her phone again. His eye hurts, it’s refusing to move at all now and this dumb bitch isn’t-

He flinches. God, he’s so sorry. He’s so sorry and she deserved none of this and maybe if he’d been a better man and not a goddamned coward and taken some responsibility then maybe she’d be listening to him right now instead.

The lawyer glances up from her phone. “Yes, Jimmy was found deceased. Your cryo pod was the only one functioning. It seems he gave up his spot for you. My condolences for your loss.” 

Something more burning than the fire rips through his stomach and he forces his eye back onto the screen. “E” and “D”, then space, then “E”, then “V”, “E” and “R”, “Y”, his vision is wavering, “O”, “N”, he can practically feel his non-existent hand tapping on the screen to finish the job, “E”. . .

His eyelid slams shut. He can tell, vaguely, that his cheek bandages are damp but whether that’s normal or from anything spilling out of his eye is beyond him. His neck twitches from the strain. 

He coughs. Forces his eye open. The lawyer looks at the screen. Looks back down at her phone. Looks at the screen again. Her eyebrows raise. 

“Are you sure?” She asks.

Of course I’m fucking sure! he could shout and shake her shoulders. 

“This was not the fault of Pony Express or its parent corporation?” 

“N”, then “O”, and now she’s actually paying attention. Something hungry lights up in her eyes, and she takes a picture of the screen and then starts furiously scribbling on her notepad. 

—

“-in this room right here, ma’am.” The nurse opens the door.

Curly looks over. Following the nurse is Cousin Sue, her blond locks he remembers now turned more platinum. She stops in the doorway and covers her mouth with her hands. 

“Were you not warned?” The nurse asks her.

She ignores him, running over by the bedside. “Oh you poor thing!” 

Curly tries to flick his eyes towards the screen, only for liquid lightning to pour into all his senses when she grabs the stump of his left arm. He chokes on air. The burning sensation lingers even as she jerks her hand away. 

“Take it easy, ma’am.” The nurse says.

“Why was it wet?” She mutters and shakes out her hand.

“Some leakage from blisters beneath the bandages. He’s okay. Try to be gentle.” 

“God. It’s horrific. I can hardly. . .”

The nurse drags her over a chair as if she might collapse any minute. Curly’s nerve endings are still on fire. She still hasn’t made eye contact with him. 

“H”, he types. “I”. Blinks to send. “HI.” 

“Hi.” She echoes. “He said hi.”

“The law firm hooked him up. That’s how we know the full story.”

It wasn’t the full story. It was the story told in simple enough words that the lawyer would stay awake while he typed. 

“God. What happened was. . . so terrible.” Sue covers her mouth. “I’m sure he did everything he could.” 

“I’ll leave you two alone now.” The nurse steps back.

The door clicks shut. Sue’s watery eyes rake up and down his frame. 

“It’s all that bastard’s fault, isn’t it? And to think you even invited him to a family reunion or two. I remember that.” 

Curly looks to the “N”. Blinks. Looks to the “O���. Blinks. Erases both. Blinks an “M”. Then a “Y”. Space. “F”. “A-”

“Disgusting man. Letting you get like this. I’m sorry about the rest of the crew as well, of course. At least they got the easy way out of things. . .” 

Curly stares at the wall behind the screen. Something inside his throat trembles. 

“What’s going on? Do you need something? Water? Water perhaps?” 

Sue looks around her before spotting the sink across the room. She grabs a cup from the nearby dispenser and fills it. Then she returns to his bedside, standing over him and then there’s his fingers on his chin opening his mouth and-

He gags. He sobs. Something wet splashes against the inside of his mouth (it’s blood it’s blood it’s blood) and nausea plays a soaring note above the chorus. 

He becomes nothing but a shivering pile of meat for a little. It’s more comfortable that way rather than trying to think. And when he opens his eyes again, Sue is gone. 

—

Curly knows there isn’t much time left. When Sue came back she talked about a private care home, and if there’s even a chance of the screen not coming with then he can’t risk it. He’s started typing only when there’s no one around to read it. It’s easier that way.

Sue and the nurse come in. They’re discussing something but Curly can hardly hear them until the nurse puts his hand on the swivel holding up the screen. Curly’s pulse lights up, and before anyone else can even breathe he blinks “send” on the console. 

The tinny voice reads each syllable as if it were reporting the weather. 

“I’M SORRY SWANSEA.”

“I’M SORRY DAISUKE.”

“ANYA. I’M SORRY. MY FAULT.” 

“I SHOULD HAVE LISTENED. DEAD PIXEL. INSTEAD OF THE BIG PICTURE.” 

Curly lets his eye droop down from the screen. 

“. . . what was all that?” Sue asks. 

The nurse comes over to his bedside. “Are you feeling alright?”

Curly doesn’t look at him. Doesn’t need to. 

All the words he could possibly offer are jammed. Like logs against the rocks beneath the water of the river he grew up by as a kid. Or traffic in the big city he moved to after moving out. Or a key in the wrong keyhole. (Or pills in his throat.)

All of these pictures he could paint. The only people who would find it worth the wait are all dead. Somehow Jimmy is among them. 

Damn it all. Curly stares at the ceiling. The nurse takes down the screen and then manhandles him into a wheelchair.

[spooksforsammy]

Once again. AAC not the answer to every communication problem. It doesn’t work for everybody!

Not everyone has functional communication. They can’t say their needs. Their wants. What’s wrong. If hurt or sick or feeling certain way. Not everyone can communicate.

Not everyone understands they can Have a voice. That people will care. That’s there’s a way. They don’t understand the people around them are real. That there’s other actual people around. Not everyone can communicate.

Still give them the tools! Still give them speech generated device or text to speech or picture cards or yes/no board. Still give them the option! But also understand.

Not everyone can communicate

[cripplecharacters]

I have a character in a non-Earth fantasy setting who's is a ball jointed doll made living, but not human, so she didn't get magic'd new organs and stuff. The character can communicate intelligently but does not have human bodily functions, like breathing, eating, and more relevantly the ability to produce sound (since she doesn't have a voice box to begin with). I was considering she communicate in a type of sign language (I'm still deciding on what), but the character does not have a tongue and I'm concerned if it's essential for mouthing. Within the "rules" of her animation, she can flex her fingers, move wrists, and shape her mouth, but it's just the tongue (or the lack of it) that I'm worried could be a problem.

I know that no two sign languages are exactly the same, so I'm aware the rules can be different between languages. Since I haven't decided on the sign language she speaks, I'm open to hear y'all guys' thoughts and others'.

Hello,

So, having a tongue is not essential to mouthing a word, but lip-reading is barely a viable form of communication. Even people who are good at reading lips can only accurately figure out what's being said around seventy percent of the time. Sure, it's better than nothing if she absolutely needs to, but it's probably one of the hardest options she has for communicating.

Sign language would be great. You can choose whatever one you want, or you can give her some alien sign language, or she could use home sign, which is sign language created by those who can't speak for whatever reason but who also haven't been able to learn an official sign language for whatever reason. It would be effective, though she may encounter people who don't understand sign language.

Then there's the option of her using some sort of text-to-speech or augmentative and alternative communication. Those take a little longer as she needs to type out her thoughts, but they're also viable options to help her communicate with others, especially if your setting is some kind of science fiction.

I don't know how you would describe someone reading her lips unless it was from her perspective, but sign language and text-to-speech or augmentative and alternative communication can be written almost as dialogue. Here are a few examples.

"Excuse me?" Character's hands moved harshly and fast, her fury obvious.

Character's face lit up with an idea and she looked down at her tablet, plastic fingers clicking on the screen as the others waited for her to finish. "I have an idea, I think I know how to fix this."

She can also have someone translating for her sign language, in which case; "I'm not a decoration, you know," Other Character said, making sure to verbalize the sarcastic drawl in Character's signs. "I do occasionally have a good idea. Maybe even a great one."

I think the concept of her sounds pretty cool, by the way.

Mod Aaron

[meeb-motes]

Póg Mo Thóin emojis

Póg Mo Thóin = Kiss my ass in Irish Gaelic

requests are open !!!

-F2/🍁

[themogaidragon]

Verbal Stance And Disability Pride Flags

PT: Verbal Stance And Disability Pride Flags /end PT

Nonverbal

PT: Nonverbal /end PT

Nonverbal: extremely severely to profoundly struggling to verbalise, total inability to use verbalization, ever, or nearly total inability to verbalise, inability to verbalise more than a few utterances, words, part of phrases, etc. Might entirely rely on AAC.

Original nonverbal flag by @pupyzu. Original post here (link).

Semiverbal

PT: Semiverbal /end PT

Semiverbal: moderately to severely struggling to or being hardly able to verbalise most to all of the time. This includes frequently or consistently: taking awhile to formulate verbalization, having a restricted, limited verbalization, etc. Only verbalising in specific circumstances, familiar situations, about familiar topics or for specific purposes, etc. Being mostly/fully able to verbalise but struggling significantly to do so, etc. Having shortened, partial, repetitive, misplaced, forgotten, garbled, incorrect, mashed-up, inintelligible, made-up verbalization, etc. Might predominately to drastically rely on AAC.

Original semiverbal flag by @pupyzu. Original post here (link).

Hemiverbalflux

PT: Hemiverbalflux /end PT

Hemiverbalflux: variably struggling to verbalise, from mildly, moderately to severely. Verbalization fluctuating in intensity but always within the borders of semiverbal and demiverbal. Struggles with verbalization vary in intensity, sometimes severe, unable to form coherent verbalization or to verbalise without extreme difficulty for weeks to sometimes mild, able to verbalise well, reliably for a few days, etc. Verbalization loss vary in length, frequency, sometimes being a few times a month or week, to every day. Lasting for a few minutes or hours, to days, happening often or over long periods. Fluctuations can be random or have causes. Hemiverbal can also be used on its own as a separate term to mean bordering/being somewhere between semiverbal and demiverbal. Might regularly to mostly rely on AAC.

Original hemiverbalflux term and flag by @jet-voidrock. Original post here (link).

Demiverbal

PT: Demiverbal /end PT

Demiverbal: mildly struggling to verbalise, half of the time, most of the time, to all of the time. Verbalization loss might happen anywhere from a multiple times a day, to a few times a month. Possibly for no apparent reason, a mix of reasons or a variety of reasons. May experience slight difficulty only a little of the time, half of the time, to all of the time with speaking, articulating, complex language usage, forming concepts, etc. Might mildly to regularly rely on AAC.

Original demiverbal flag by @lilqu33rboi. Original post here (link).

Verbalflux

PT: Verbalflux /end PT

Verbalflux: variably struggling to verbalise. Being able to verbalise, fluctuating at any intensity, difficulty, length, frequency and at any given time. Struggles and inability to use verbalization vary in intensity, length and frequency. Fluctuations can be random or have causes and can happen often or over long periods of time. Might periodically rely on AAC.

Original verbalflux flag by @pupyzu. Original post here (link).

Choiceverbal

PT: Choiceverbal /end PT

Choiceverbal: willingly not using verbalization, being able to verbalise (fullverbal, demiverbal, semiverbal, majorityverbal...), but choosing not to verbalise much or at all. Can be for any reason, including but not limited to: Being uncomfortable or disliking verbalising, being verbal-adverse, lack of understanding of social cues, etc. Might partially or entirely use intentionally AAC.

Term coined by @schizophrenicbulbasaur in this post (link). Original choiceverbal flag by @lilqu33rboi. Original post here (link).

Fullverbal

PT: Fullverbal /end PT

Fullverbal: being fully able to verbalise fluently and effectively, across a wide range of contexts. Having the ability to construct complete, grammatically correct verbalization, engage in complex conversations about various topics, etc. Demonstrating good control over vocabulary, tone, speech, pace and conversational nuances, permitting to express a broad spectrum of thoughts, emotions, and ideas. Might hardly ever rely on AAC.

Original verbal flag by @pupyzu. Original post here (link).

Hyperverbal

PT: Hyperverbal /end PT

Hyperverbal: being fully able to verbalise and, whether by choice or on accident, exhibiting an excessive or unusually high level of verbalization. Verbalising at length and with great detail about various topics, often dominating conversations. This can include rapid verbalization, above average verbal capacities, advanced vocabulary, logorrhea, frequent interruptions, an overwhelming amount of information shared, etc. Might have the ability to engage in discussions on multiple subjects, but communication can sometimes be overwhelming for others and may lack focus or relevance to the ongoing conversation. Might hardly ever rely on AAC.

Original hyperverbal flag by @pupyzu. Original post here (link).

Additional Informations

PT: Additional Informations /end PT

Verbal stances are descriptive of everyday reality, they shouldn't be used to describe verbality during brief, unusual circumstances (ex: short-lived shutdown, panic attack, aphasia, etc). Refering a small verbal loss episode as going nonverbal, refering a transient aphasia as going semiverbal, and similar misusage, is improper and incorrect. Verbality can change during a lifetime for a lot of reasons but is qualifying long-term, long lasting verbality. If verbalization fluctuates a lot, verbalflux might be used.

Plenty of terms can be used to refer to shutdowns and similar experiences. Losing words, losing speech, speech loss, speech loss episode, verbal shutdown, verbal crash...

Selective/situational mutism is often used interchangeably with shutdown, which is an incorrect usage. SM is a diagnosable anxiety disorder which causes the person an inability to speak in specific social situations, specific places, or to specific people if a certain condition is triggered.

I've made the definitions by combining multiple definitions I've seen over internet since I struggle to formulate working on my own. They aren't carved in stone, just an attempt to define those. Even though AAC usage and verbality usually coincide, it's not always the case, ence why I've putted 'might' use AAC.

Most people don't make the distinction between -verbal and -speaking stances while some might make a distinction. In that particular case, -verbal would describe language ability, while -speaking would describe speech abiliy. For example, nonverbal would mean not having language whereas nonspeaking would refer to the inability to use speech to communicate. Considering that an overwhelming majority of people don't make distinctions and that terms exist to describe the verbality components distinctively, I've chosen not to do such distinctions in this post and use the broad term of verbality.

Descriptives of verbality components:

-lexic refers to the ability to use, comprehend, process language (link), while -speaking refers to the usage of speech and -vocal refers to a system's headmate verbality (link), whereas -scribal refer to the ability to produce written or typed language, whilst -communicative refers to the ability to communicate.

It's up to the individual (or close relatives when the individual isn't able to do that by themselves) to choose how they wish to identify, according to their preferences, what fits the best, what is more practical, etc. It is a personal preference.

I've made these flags since the original designs all have a solid white infinity symbol on them, which problematic since it's already a the recognised symbol for Métis (link) and also confusing since these terms aren't exclusive to neurodivergent people.

[d3lusi0nal-d33r]

i love everyone who has difficulty speaking

people who stutter, who need extra patience when gathering their thoughts

people who have low verbality and use minimal words.

people who's voice comes from AAC, sign or any other forms of communication

i love u all, and u deserve care and patience 💚

[spectrumgarden]

Laying in bed sick thinking about how theres a learning curve in interacting with me, even just communication. And how because I mainly interact with my caretaker, who's my mother, and then other people in my family like my sister and her husband, or maybe my therapist, I dont really experience this learning curve a lot usually. Because they all got used to it long ago.

They know that when I'm pointing to something after a question it's likely to answer it, even if the connection isnt immediately obvious. "Do you want to eat?" If I point to the clock. It means more time, it means later. They understand this. Others dont. That when I'm pointing to something without you asking a question, it's to get your attention on something that needs an action from you, or asking if it needs an action on my side (generally). No, I'm not pointing at the window to show u something going on outside like that cloud or that bird, I'm pointing at the window to ask if it's okay to leave open. Etc.

I not only point, I also gesture, a lot. Other people understand my gestures for maybe, for here, for there, but the rest? Not usually. I stand in the room and gesture the movement scissors make with my fingers. I'm asking where the scissors are. Ask if I want to eat, and I tap my wrist twice on the outside. It means later, because that's where people wear wristwatches, and it means time, it means later. They dont understand it, my mother does.

That when I communicate in one word "sentences", I cant ask questions the normal way. I cant say "how long?" "Whats wrong?" Etc Because that's two words. Now if I only do the question word (how, what, when, ...) then my question will literally not make sense. How what ? So I have to simply say "long". And you have to understand that this is me asking a question, even if my tone might not be the best. I say "long" and I'm asking, how long does this food take until it's done? I'm not randomly saying a word. It means something.

It's all very context heavy communication in ways that average communication isnt, so people arent used to it. They're not used to piecing together gestures and one word sentences and their environment and their own previous statements. They can learn how to do it, usually... but it takes time.

And it's hard to describe how incredibly frustrating it is as a disabled person with communication difficulties to go from a environment of people who mostly understand your style of communication to one where people dont, and being forced to use AAC constantly despite it being incredibly exhausting mentally and taking long as fuck, just to be understood at a baseline level.

[positivelyqueer]

Language, understanding and use of, very complicated and multifaceted. Some people know complicated words and jargon, struggle with sentence structure and grammar. Some people few spoken vocabulary words, abundant AAC language. Some people speak very fluently, struggle with writing and reading. Some people limited words and memory, new words have to replace old words. Some people can communicate on par with others but it takes more effort or concentration. Some people variable language understanding and use. Some people no language at all, only pictures and ideas. All good and important. Not all people have language skills as you expect them. Be kind to yourself :)

[pixierainbows]

Pixie have question for all people what use any kind of AAC since childhood .

want to know if used AAC to “babble “ , Like babies do . if it help to play with AAC device, if help with learning to communicate . or , If use for stimming .

and if persons think any of That help with learning to communicate with AAC device later .

Pixie say thank you to everybody what answer or reblog very appreciate !

[k9emote]

question!! i see you mentioning AAC on a few posts, what does that mean? is it a form of communication?

HELLO ! SO GLAD YOU ASKED

TERM: AAC stands for Augmentative & Alternative Communication. This terms includes ANY form of communication that isn't simple verbal speaking

FORMS: Some use devices where they press buttons or type something out and it says it out loud for them, some write on paper, and some use sign language (Us!!!)

these ^^^ are only a few examples !

Most commonly the people who use AAC are those who struggle with any form of expression or speaking. This could be medically mute, selectively mute, autistic, overstimulated individuals, anyone ! AAC is for anybody who wants/needs a different form of communication. 🤍

[perplexingluciddreams]

Recently it occurred to me that when I want to show Mum something, I can take a video on my phone and send it!

Ever since I had the realisation that I can use WhatsApp or text messages to tell Mum things, I have been able to say so much more to her. And now I can add videos to the collection of communication options!

Of course it still does not always occur to me that I have the opportunity to communicate, at all. Some days I forget I can reach other people at all. I am so far deep in my own world that I don't have this awareness. And I most often simply don't have the words, therefore can't say anything at all even if I want to.

But I am so proud of the improvement I have made! My new AAC also helps a lot, very much. And thank goodness for WhatsApp existence!!

Words never stop being hard - it is a constant fight to get anything out, and an uphill battle to hold onto the skills I have in this area, to not lose it to regression. But I fight and fight and fight. And keep on fighting.

[25centsoda]

DinLuke Fic in honor of AO3 Down

Chapter 1 of my five-chapter wip (currently getting my ass kicked by chapter 3) to feed the starving masses on this terrible day of AO3 Down. Fic and summary subject to change by the time I finish, edit, and finally post it. Fair warning this chap is 9 pages on my google doc.

Summary: After rescuing Grogu, Din retired to a quiet life as a lighthouse keeper with his son. Unfortunately, his life is determined to be anything but quiet.

Tags: Mermaid au, DinLuke, Din Djarin, Grogu, Luke Skywalker, Cara Dune, Moff Gideon, Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine, Little Mermaid-ish, fantasy au, modern au, AAC, autistic Grogu, nonspeaking Grogu, Din was a hitman

EDIT: AUGH apparently AO3 came back up while I was posting. Was supposed to be down for 3 more hours...smh. Anyways, enjoy ig!

There was a merman lying on the rocky beach, above the tidal line, not twenty feet away.

Din rubbed his eyes. Blinked. The merman was still there.

He turned around.

Turned back.

Still there.

His gaze drifted up to the clouds as he thought, mind churning like stormy waves. Had he had breakfast that morning? Or water? Dehydration did things to the brain, right? Maybe the kid had kept him up too late and he was dreaming…

A rock landed very near his foot. He looked down.

The merman was waving to him. Propped up on one pale arm, with blue…gills? Fins? Waving merrily just behind his ears. There were more fins along the back of each arm. He was smiling and mouthing something, but no sound was coming out.

Din better not be hallucinating.

He picked his way across the rocks and stopped in front of the…fish. Man. Gods above, there were scales on this man’s bare stomach, and just below his belly button the skin faded entirely into blue scales, and his lower half was…

The merman flapped his tail, silently laughing. It slapped the ground with a wet sound.

Din could only stare.

The merman waved his hand, bringing Din’s attention back to his face, which was unfairly beautiful, a fact that Din elected to ignore. He began signing animatedly and mouthing something, but it wasn’t any sign language Din knew, and he’d never been great at reading lips.

Din shook his head. “Sorry, I don’t understand.”

The merman stopped signing with a huff. He bit his lip, looking around. There wasn’t much to see. This beach was isolated—that’s why Din had chosen it. There was nothing around except for chunks of pale rocks in varying sizes, the water, and, distantly, grassy dunes. And the lighthouse Din was paid to keep.

“Hold on,” Din said. He got several steps away before another thrown rock reminded him to say, “I’ll be right back. I’m going to get something that will help.”

It was a long walk back to the lighthouse, but it was a walk he made every other day, to ensure that nothing weird or dangerous had washed up. And it was a good thing, too, because evidently something had washed up. Or…someone? Din wasn’t really sure how to refer to a literal merman. He still wasn’t convinced that he hadn’t hallucinated the whole thing.

Grogu was waiting at the door for him, one little hand holding the doorframe as he leaned out of it, waving his device. “Ba!” he shouted. His black hair fell into his face—Din needed to cut it soon—as he looked down to make selections. As Din neared, the device read out, “Dad where go? Why back soon?”

Din tousled his son’s hair. “Just came back to grab something real quick, buddy. I’ve gotta go out again.”

Grogu tilted his head in question.

Din passed him, entering the kitchen. “I don’t know what I’ve found. Somebody that needs help, I think.”

.

.

.

Din made his way back to the beach. The merman was still there. Din wished he had thought to grab himself a bottle of water, or a snack or something, but the fact that the man was still there boded well for Din’s mental faculties, if not for the logic of the universe.

“Can you read English? D’you even know English? Do you know what I’m saying?”

Din felt stupid, talking to some hallucination-man-fish-thing, but the man nodded, so Din took that as a yes.

“Okay. Uh, well I have this.” He held out the communication board that he had brought. It was laminated—they all were, so that they would last longer—so it wouldn’t be bothered by the fact that the man reaching out a hand to take it was still dripping wet. Din had grabbed the hospital board rather than any of the core boards or fringe vocabularies, thinking that it would be the most useful. It wasn’t like Grogu already had a single-page board for mermaid trapped on the beach, and Din figured that the man was likely to be injured or hurting in some way, being so far up on the rocks. “Point to whatever you want to say.”

The merman examined the green board with interest, front and back. He seemed to read every icon carefully. The back had the alphabet and “YES”/”NO” along the bottom, a section labeled “I WANT”, a section labeled “I AM”, “I WANT TO SEE”, and a section containing icons for yes, no, thank you, stop, pen/paper. The front had pictures of a blank, uncolored body showing the front and back view with a pain scale in the middle, and icons describing different types of pain like itches, stings, can’t move. Along the sides of the front were requests for items, bathroom, and like that, don’t like, repeat that, speak louder.

After a while, Din said, “Well? Are you, uh, injured, or anything?”

The man scanned the board again, and finally pointed to the image of a glass labeled Water. As he did so, Din noticed that his fingers were webbed halfway together, with shimmering blue, nearly-transparent webbing. He looked up at Din.

“Right. Right.” Din found himself swinging his arms as he looked around the beach. He forced himself to stop. “I can. Uh.” How heavy could a fish-man be? Probably very heavy. Still—“I can bring you back to the ocean?”

The merman shook his head vehemently, eyes wide. Din noticed for the first time that they were blue, like the man’s fins. The man pointed to the red icon labeled NO over and over.

Din held up a placating hand. “Okay, okay. No ocean. Got it.” He didn’t understand in the slightest, but the message was clear. “What if I bring up a bucket?”

The man nodded.

Din…didn’t have a bucket on him. Luckily, there was a storage shed not too far from here—there was a dock about half a mile back. Once he had a bucket and filled it with water, he hesitated.

“Do you want me to just—” Din made a motion like he was going to throw the water on him.

The man gestured for the bucket. Din handed it over. The man dipped his hand in and splashed the water on the fins sticking out of his head.

Huh. Maybe those were his gills, or…something. Din didn’t exactly know that much about fish biology. Mostly what he knew about was killing. And, slowly, how to care for a nonspeaking toddler.

“Are you lost? Are you, uh, hungry?”

The man pointed to Thank you. 

Din was suddenly seized with the urge to know—”What’s your name? If—if you can spell it.” If a merman knew English, he could spell his name in English, right? Or would it be all clicks and whistles, like a dolphin?

He watched as the man spelled L—U—K—E.

“Luke.”

A nod and a smile.

“Luke,” Din said again, and wasn’t it enough that the man had an unfairly attractive face and, if he was already admitting things to himself anyway, body? Did he have to have a name that moved in Din’s mouth like that?

N—A—M—E—?

“What?”

Luke spelled it out again.

“Oh, my name.” Gods, Din was an idiot. “It’s Din. Din Djarin.”

Din. Luke mouthed the name, smiling. Din felt like he was going to combust.

“Uh, if you’re not going to go back in the ocean…” Din paused again. Luke shook his head wildly, almost unbalancing himself. Din forged on. “...would you like to come to my house? I have a bathtub I can fill with salt water for you; it’s probably more comfortable than these rocks.”

Luke pointed to Yes.

“Okay, great.”

It was quite the job getting Luke to his house. He’d thought he was pretty strong, but they had to take several breaks for Din to catch his breath. The merman was slimy in his arms, his scales rough. Luke held on to the (emptied) bucket and the hospital communication board. By the time they got back to the house, the sun was beginning to set, Din’s arms and shirt were rubbed raw, and Grogu was angry—at least, he was until he saw what Din had in his arms.

Grogu squealed. His device read out, “Mermaid! Mermaid! Mermaid!” He did a little dance, flapping his arms and twirling excitedly in the doorway.

“Move, kid,” Din grit out, muscles shaking. Luke waved from his arms.

Grogu got out of the way and Din made it all the way into the bathroom before he had to set Luke down again lest he drop him. Luke shivered on the cold tile. Din had to reach over him to turn on the tap. Grogu waited in the doorway, watching.

“Oh—sorry, do you need salt water?”

Luke pointed to Yes, his hands shaking. His golden-blond hair was drying now, into thick waves around his gills. Some of the blue spots on his skin were turning colorless, as well, which probably wasn’t great.

“Kid, stay with him a minute, I’m gonna get salt water.” Din pulled the drain open and stood, shaking off the water.

More buckets. More trips back and forth to the shore. It took more than Din had thought to fill up the bathtub. Luke splashed himself every so often as he waited. Grogu had brought in the whole folder of laminated communication boards, and pulled down the laminated booklet on a hook from the bathtub, and he and Luke were engaged in a vibrant conversation that meant that Din had to watch where he stepped lest he slip.

Finally, the tub was full, and Din hauled Luke up one last time, and into the water. Luke slapped his tail excitedly, splashing water everywhere. Grogu squealed, raising his little hands up to the sky. Din was entranced by the water shining off Luke’s blue scales, the almost translucent…skin?...on the bottom fin, the rigid, darker blue spines that held it together.

An alarm shook Din out of his thoughts.

He stood. “I’ve got to make dinner and get everything set up for the night. Are you two good here?”

Luke held up a beach vocabulary board and pointed to Yes. Grogu squealed again, nodding vigorously.

“Try not to make too much of a mess,” Din said. He put two towels on the floor in front of the tub, which soaked up some of the water. He held back a sigh. Fighting mold was a constant battle, in a building so close to the ocean. Hopefully any mold-related damages wouldn’t get taken out of his paycheck, even if they were in the bathroom and therefore probably his fault.

Attending to his regular duties kept Din’s mind off the merman in his bathroom for a while. He stood outside long enough to get a sense of the weather, and reported it on the radio, then listened to the airwaves for a while to see if there were any nearby boaters that needed rescuing—an über-rare occurrence, on this island. He briefly entertained the idea of radioing in his “rescue” of Luke, but what would he say? “I found a merman”? Saying that would be a one-way ticket to a psych eval if not a hospital stay - in other words, losing this safe haven where he and his son lived. Besides, without the merman in front of him, the whole thing felt like a dream. A dream that left raw skin on his chest and arms. A dream he wouldn’t breathe a word about.

He walked around the perimeter of the lighthouse and the station house, noting down any damages that would need repair or repainting soon. Took inventory of foodstuffs—they were starting to run low, but a supply was due in a week, and they had the garden, as long as a storm didn’t take it out. Tended the garden—ripped out some kudzu that kept somehow finding its way onto this isolated island, squirted bugs off the rosemary with one of Grogu’s little water guns. Checked on the water filters, generators, and radio antenna. Luckily everything was in decent order in spite of a day of neglect.

The sun was well and truly set by the time that Din went back inside the station house and started making dinner—chicken fingers, Grogu’s favorite. After some hesitation, he threw some frozen fish sticks on the baking tray as well. Maybe Luke would eat them. Din hadn’t gone fishing in a few weeks; Grogu had had him working their way through a craft book Cara had brought them at the last supply drop, which didn’t leave a lot of time for much beyond his daily duties, time consuming as they were. If Luke wanted fresh fish, Din could go fishing tomorrow.

He stacked up three plates on his arms and brought them into the bathroom. Not a large bathroom to begin with, it was a crowded space between the adult, the kid, and the mermaid. Setting his own on the white marbled sink countertop, he handed a plate of chicken fingers and broccoli to Grogu and a plate of fish sticks to Luke.

“It’s fish,” he explained. “With breadcrumbs.” At Luke’s blank look, Din hastily explained, “Bread is, uh, it comes from grain, wheat, and so it’s kind of…like…well, it’s a carbohydrate. I dunno if you have those in…the ocean. Try it, and tell me if you can eat it, or if you need something else.” He sorted through Grogu’s communication boards scattered on the tile floor, and found one with ocean creatures, which he set on the rim of the bathtub.

Grogu turned his nose up at the broccoli with a huff.

“Come on, kid, you’ve gotta have vegetables.” Din was too tired to really argue the point tonight, but Grogu didn’t need to know that.

Luke reached one dripping hand out of the tub and pointed to the broccoli on Grogu’s plate, with an encouraging sort of Go on expression, nodding. The broccoli got a little damp at the touch of his pale finger. Din grimaced, sure that the salt water would ruin whatever little chance there was of getting the kid to eat his vegetables.

Grogu surprised him by digging in.

Din blinked.

Alright then. He’d keep slightly soggy in mind, on his list of ‘things that get Grogu to eat.’ Kids were mysterious creatures sometimes.

Din ate his own plate of chicken fingers and broccoli sitting on the closed toilet seat, watching the two of them interact. It was, of course, mostly silent, occasionally interspersed with one of Grogu’s noises like “ba!” Luke picked at his fishsticks (after scraping off the breading), Grogu picked at his chicken fingers. Their hands were pretty occupied with the boards. At this angle, he couldn’t see all that they pointed to, but he saw the fairytale board, ocean, and mythology. And home.

.

.

.

After they finished eating, Din cleared the plates, and let Grogu and Luke talk for another hour while he cleaned up and checked the weather again.

“Alright kid, bedtime.”

“Ba!” Grogu said angrily, his little face scrunched up. Din’s heart melted in spite of himself. 

“No, come on, it’s time for bed.”

Luke waved his hand for Grogu’s attention. Once he had it, he exaggeratedly stretched and yawned, then put his hands together and leaned his head against them, breathing big in, and out. If he was underwater, Din was sure that there would be enormous bubbles coming out of his mouth, adding to the effect.

Grogu giggled. Luke peeked with one eye and smiled, then went right back to it.

Din gathered up all the communication boards and knocked them up on the counter, making them into a neat stack. He grabbed Grogu’s hand.

“Come on, I’ll sing to you.”

Luke broke out of his acting and waved goodbye, flapping his hand.

“I’ll check on you before I go to bed,” Din promised over his shoulder. He left the door open a crack, so that Luke could hear them move around and know that he hadn’t been left in the house alone.

Luckily Grogu’s room had a bathroom attached to it, so he could still have a quick bath—the salt water he and Luke had been splashing in all evening didn’t count—and brush his teeth before bed. Din brushed his teeth beside Grogu, glad for once that he still kept his toothbrush on his nightstand instead of in the main bathroom, an old habit from more chaotic days.

Finally, Din got Grogu clean, dry, in pajamas, and tucked into bed with his favorite frog plushie.

Din knelt beside his bed with a groan, cursing old injuries and unstretched muscles. “Alright, kid, what do you want me to sing?”

Grogu made grabby hands for his device. Din pulled it off the charger and handed it over. Grogu navigated through the pages swiftly, before finally selecting, “Sun.”

“Alright.” Din cleared his throat, and began to sing. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine. You make me hap-py, when skies are gray.”

Grogu snuggled down in his blankets, clutching his favorite Froggie close to his chest, watching Din with absolute love and trust in his eyes. It made Din’s heart clench. Stars, he loved this kid. He would move heaven and earth for him. He had, when he’d rescued him. Although really, it was Din that had been rescued that day.

He reached a hand out and caressed the soft brown hair atop Grogu’s head. “You’ll never know, dear, how much I love you. Please don’t take, my sun-shine a-way.” He kissed his son’s forehead. “You all ready for sleep, big guy?”

Grogu squealed softly.

“Alright.” Din pressed his forehead to Grogu’s one last time as he took his device and set it on the bedside table, and turned out the light. “If you need anything, just yell.”

He closed the door softly, leaving just a crack to let light through.

Luke was waiting in the bathroom, arms folded on the rim of the bathtub, his head resting on top. He perked up when Din came in, but not much.

“How’s your, uh, oxygen?”

Luke gave a thumbs up.

“Tired?”

Luke nodded.

“Yeah, me too.” His muscles were certainly sore from lugging all that water and the merperson. He needed to work out more, probably. As busy as this job kept him, it didn’t maintain his physical fitness the way he used to. He’d let himself get…soft, as Grogu’s dad.

“You good for the night? Need any fresh water?”

Luke shook his head. Thankfully. Din didn’t particularly want to go out in the pitch dark. It would be hard to hold a flashlight and a full bucket at the same time.

“Can you write?” At Luke’s nod, Din took out a weather resistant notepad and pen and set them on the rim of the bathtub beside Luke’s head. “We’re expecting a supply run in a day or so. If you need anything, or want anything, I can radio shore and have it delivered then.”

The merman perked up. Thank you!!! he wrote, with three exclamation marks. Din huffed a laugh.

Luke wrote, head bowed, for a while. Din watched his golden hair, long dried except around his…gills, bounce softly, reflecting the overhead light. It was mesmerizing, like watching light bounce off of water.

When Luke held up the notepad again, Din had to shake himself a little to refocus.

Salmon

Oysters

Something soft to lay on the side

Something I can help you with, as payment for taking me in

Din blinked. “I don’t need you to help me with anything.”

Luke’s gaze was pleading. No: Begging.

Din shook his head. “Really. Most of my job you can’t help me with anyway; unless you can repaint the lighthouse or pull weeds.”

Luke frowned, his lip stuck out. Din couldn’t help having a little thrill at the sight. It was adorable.

“Really! I guess I could…” He really thought about it. He supposed…that the counter could use a little basket for his keys. One of Grogu’s favorites from the craft book was basket-weaving. He could show Luke how to do it, and thus keep them both occupied, and Luke could feel useful. “Do you know how to weave baskets?”

Luke nodded eagerly.

“I’ll collect some materials for you from the wildflower garden tomorrow. Grogu can help.” Din broke off with a yawn. “I’ll tell our supplier to get the rest of it. Sleep well.”

Luke pointed at Din and mimed sleeping, with his head on his hands, then nodded as if to say You too.

Din smiled and turned to go. He paused in the doorway with his hand on the light switch.

“On or off?”

Luke tilted his head, brow furrowed. To demonstrate, Din flicked the lights off, then back on. Then again, saying out loud which was which.

“Thumbs up, on. Thumbs down, off.” He showed how to do it as he spoke. Luke gave a thumbs down. “Lights off it is,” he said, turning them off. “Goodnight. See you in the morning.”

He left the door cracked open again and made his way up the stairs, stifling a yawn.

He wouldn’t be surprised if the bathroom was empty in the morning. Weirder things had happened.

Although, if he was honest with himself—no, weirder things hadn’t happened. Sure, he’d had some odd jobs in his old life, but none of it had involved the supernatural. No, it was all kingpins and businessmen and whistleblowers, hackers, grifters, thieves, and the occasional unopened suitcase. Once, on his last job, a child. Never a merman.

Well, this made two that he’d kept instead of killed. Two that he’d saved.

He’d definitely gone soft.

But he found…he didn't mind it.