#anyways. [unintelligible gibberish]

[krytus]

a week ago i was ready to give up on kings blood and today i just finished outlining each new chapter of the restructuring/rewrite im doing 😌.....

[mellifluouaamor]

Kissing Mashle boys before running hc?

MASH BURNEDEAD, FINN AMES, LANCE CROWN, DOT BARRETT, RAYNE AMES, ABEL WALKER, ABYSS RAZOR, WIRTH MADL, CARPACCIO LUO-YANG, ORTER MADL, KALDO GEHENNA (SEPARATE) ⍣ GENDER-NEUTRAL READER

synopsis. the boys' reactions to you kissing them and then running away.

author's note. that one panel where orter tells cell to bend over has never left my mind and i may have brought it over to these headcanons i'm (not) sorry. orter can bend me over anytime- AHEM ANYWAY LIVE LAUGH LOVE WIRTH HAHAHA

you, running away from MASH? given his inhuman speed and reflexes, that'll be impossible. even if your action is as harmless as a kiss to his cheek, the first-year would reflexively grab your wrist and pull you flush against his chest before you can take a step away from him.

you'd be subjected under his signature blank stare for a few seconds as he tries to process what just happened, and when he finally registers the feeling of your soft lips on his cheek, he tilts his head to the side in an adorable manner.

"can you do that again?" he asks, surprising you. mash can't explain it - but he likes the warm and fuzzy feeling that would bloom inside his chest when you kiss his cheek. your kiss feels like... a bed of cream puffs. (don't question his analogy)

oh, sweet summer child FINN. if you kiss him right on his freckles in front of his friends, he'd combust on the spot as a string of unintelligible words streams out of his mouth. a flush of embarrassment would rise to his cheeks and when he turns around to tell you off, you're already running away, leaving him to think of how he should get back at you.

he'd spend the entire afternoon attempting and failing to ambush you, with you giggling gleefully as you skip out of his reach. argh, why do you have to be so hard to catch?!

when supper rolls around, you sit next to a defeated looking finn with your tray of food. as you're eating, he points out that you've got some sauce around your mouth and before you can wipe it off, finn has already leaned over and licks the corner of your lips (with his cheeks burning). you drop your spoon in shock while dot gags loudly in the background.

"oh," is all LANCE says when your lips land on the corner of his mouth. his fingertips brush against the spot you shyly kissed and when he turns to face you, you're already gone. figuring that the embarrassment must have gotten to you, he presses a loose fist against his lips as he chuckles softly.

the following hours would be lance contributing further to that embarrassment. he'd kiss your cheek when you're in the middle of a conversation with your friends, and he makes sure that you won't be able to pull away by gripping your jaw. the kiss would last longer than necessary, causing an awkward silence to fall on the group.

if you confront him about it, he'd simply squish your cheeks in his palm as he taunts you for being unable to do anything. try to talk back, and he'll silence you with his lips.

DOT would short-circuit the second your lips make contact with his cheek, his face flushing as red as his hair. as you run away from him laughing, he'd hold his face like he just got slapped, gibberish spilling over his lips and unable to think straight. mash and finn would have to hold him up to stop him from collapsing.

once dot recomposes himself, he'd chase you in the hallways and it immediately becomes a game of tag... with him almost crashing into the walls as you deftly dodge his lunges.

when he finally catches you, there's no escaping from his onslaught of kisses as he wounds his arms around you tightly. your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, your neck - he leaves no area untouched. when dot returns a favour, he returns it tenfold.

RAYNE would turn his head the moment he registers the lack of space between your bodies - and that unexpected action causes his lips to meet yours in a kiss. you immediately pull away from him with a loud gasp, and the perpetual frown on his countenance prompts you to run for the hills.

touching his lips, he'd wonder why you ran away after boldly kissing him, unaware that you weren't supposed to do that and that you had only intended to ask him about homework. it wouldn't take long for him to chase you as if you're a little rabbit being preyed on by the wolf of adler dorm. (finn watches with a slack jaw as his older brother terrorises your poor soul)

the moment rayne catches up to you, he'd cage you against the nearest wall with his arms on either side of your cowering form. he's at a loss to know how to respond to your profuse apologies, only wanting you to kiss him properly after that accidental kiss earlier. he eventually manages to silence you by gingerly planting his lips on the tip of your nose.

ABEL doesn't express much emotion in the first place, so it's no surprise that he didn't give much of a reaction to your kiss on his forehead. when you did it in the middle of his conversation with the magia lupus, he stops talking abruptly while the other members gawk at your boldness. with a quiet "teehee", you prance out of the room as he touches his forehead.

in class, in the hallway, in the cafeteria - abel would stare at you from afar like you've committed the highest degree of crimes. you think that you may have offended him by pulling what you did in front of the magia lupus, but that's not the case as you would come to find out later.

in the evening, abyss brings you to abel's room by the scruff of your shirt. you're wondering why the hell you got dragged out of bed, and it isn't until you noticed abel staring at you expectantly did you realise he wants you to give him a good night kiss like a mother would to her child.

ABYSS, who had never received physical affection from anyone before in his entire life, would be so flustered that his mind becomes a jumbled mess. he doesn't even realise that you've already fled from the scene by the time he can think coherently again (and he's disappointed).

the kiss you gave him would linger on his mind for hours, and he'd throw subtle glances at you - specifically your lips. the warmth that spread from the spot you kissed on his forehead is... comforting, reassuring even, and he doesn't think he can continue his day without getting another one from you.

eventually, abyss would work up the courage to approach you. when he shyly tugs your sleeve with his gaze averted, you immediately understand what he wants and lean in to plant a sweet kiss over his evil eye, causing red to dust his cheeks. he'd hug you on impulse, wanting to be as close to you as possible.

WIRTH doesn't appreciate having his study time interrupted, so if you try to break his concentration by kissing the side of his neck, he wouldn't give you the chance to run away by trapping your feet in mud. he'd then drag you over to sit on his lap, where you'll be forced to stay until he's done studying.

it doesn't matter if you're in the library or the common room, you'll just have to endure the embarrassment of being sandwiched between his body and the table. he doesn't even hide the fact that he's enjoying the way you're squirming uncomfortably on his lap - that's what you get for trying to distract him.

he'd pinch your side if your squirming starts to get annoying, and if you try to protest, he'd immediately shut you up with a kiss - with every contact between your lips lasting longer than the previous one. it eventually reaches the point where you're left breathless after his kisses, and he smirks at the debauched look he's able to paint on your countenance.

CARPACCIO would stare at your fleeing figure with the same stiff expression he wears every day; he'd internally question why you would run off after kissing him when he has no intentions of harming you.

since he can't feel pain, your affectionate gestures are the only other external stimuli he can feel. he registers the pleasant feeling in his chest when you first kissed him, and has become addicted to the feeling since then. so really, he'd just accept your surprise kisses.

although he won't go after you when you run away, he'd actively seek you out and splay himself across your lap like a cat. when that happens, it's your cue to shower him with the kisses he has grown to like. this frequently happens since he tends to stay up all night for his research, and the warm feeling of your lips helps him fall asleep.

ORTER won't admit it, but your kisses are capable of breaking his composure; so when your lips suddenly press against his jaw, he'd freeze up on the spot, giving you the opportunity to book it before he can catch you. once you're well out of his sight, he'd push his glasses up the bridge of his nose with the faintest hint of blush on his cheeks.

of course, no actions go without consequences - and you are no exception. to punish you for your little misdeed, orter would call your unsuspecting self into his office before bending you over his desk when you least expected it. he'd relish in your shocked expression and proceeds to intimidate you into submission, only stopping once he spots the teary beads in the corners of your eyes.

orter is not a cruel man. gently cupping your jaw, he presses a long kiss on your temple as a silent apology before letting you go.

another one who you won't have a chance to run from. KALDO can tell when you're about to attack him with a kiss and would pretend to be oblivious until you make a move. the moment you lean into his face, he quickly turns his head and places a hand at the back of your head to push your lips against his.

you're helpless in his grasp as he wraps an arm around your waist to press you against his body. if you just had a sweet snack, he would deepen the kiss and literally devour your lips, wanting to taste what you ate. when he finally pulls away, he'll try to guess the name of the snack while playfully smiling at your embarrassed expression.

kaldo treats it like a little game. if he can catch you before you kiss him and he happens to have some honey on hand, he gets your honey-flavoured lips as a reward and you'll be in for a long night.

[arlertaddict]

Boys who...

Boys who you tie up, use multiple sex toys on, and are overstimulated until they're crying and begging.

🔞 NSFW 🔞 MINORS DO NOT INTERACT 🔞 AGELESS BLOGS DNI 🔞 18+ 🔞 SMUT 🔞 ADULT CONTENT 🔞

Warnings: nsfw, gender neutral reader, dom reader, multifandom, multicharacter, sub characters, bondage, anal play & fingering, sex toys, prostate massager, wand vibrator, crying, dacryphilia, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, fucked dumb, precum, slight spit/drool, they cum in your mouth, this could possibly be considered dubcon.

Boys who let you tie them tight to te bed frame, not worried in the slightest because they're sure you'll be nice.

Boys who are just a little hesitant when you lube up a finger and circle it around the rim of his hole because he's still getting used to the sensation, but are quickly squirming and crying for you to please just put it in already.

Boys who try to stay quiet but can't help but whimper and whine as your fingers continually prob and rub at his prostate as you thrust them in and out.

Boys who were oh so confident at first and are now pathetically and uncontrollably bucking and swivelling their hips into nothing.

Boys who thought having something stuffed into his hole wouldn't affect him too much, but are proven wrong when you push a prostate massager into him and he feels a pleasure like an electric currently buzz through his body.

Boys who have never used toys before realising what they were missing out on.

Boys whose cocks leak a steady drool of precum onto their bellies when you graze a wand style vibrator over his balls and down his taint.

Boys who can't help but unsuccessfully try to thrash around when you turn on another wand vibrator, this time, one that has an attached sleeve to go around his pretty cock that you use to jerk him off to add to the sensation of the vibration, the rumbles of which he can feel in his tummy like butterflies.

Boys who are close to cumming within only a few minutes of having three toys used on him at the same time, but who can blame him?

Boys who are close but not quite at the edge yet suddenly thrown off it when you lean down to lick and suckle at the wet tip of his cock.

Boys who can't fathom the fact that even with his cum on your tongue and dripping down your chin, you haven't moved to turn a single toy off.

Boys who whine that it's too much and beg you to please turn it off, it hurts even if his cock is still hard, the tip still flushed red, his balls somehow still full.

Boys who have tears running down their face and drool dripping down their chin when they cum for the second time in a row.

Boys who cry out in both pleasure and pain when you still don't let up and only move to lightly pinch his nipples as you leave the toys to continue bzzz bzzz bzzz-ing.

Boys who lose all control of their bodies as they clench their jaw, their thighs tremble, legs thrash, hips jump, and hands clench around nothing, knuckles white at the headboard he's still tied to.

Boys who are so overstimulated that their begging cries of please, please, please! are unintelligible gibberish to your ears.

Boys who have become so dumb that they have no choice but to submit to your every whim and want, now simply your plaything to do with what you wish.

Boys who, despite the crying and begging for that to be the end, wouldn't choose to stop you if given the option anyway.

Boys.

—

My Hero Academia: Hawks, Shouto, Denki, Shigiraki, Bakugou, Iida, Kirishima, Aizawa, Shinsou.

Attack on Titan: Eren, Reiner, Jean, Armin.

Blue Lock: Chigiri, Bachira, Nagi, Reo.

Jujutsu Kaisen: Gojo, Yuuji, Yuuta.

Your Turn to Die: Joe, Alice, Kai.

Tokyo Revengers: Sanzu, Baji, Mikey, Draken, Chifuyu, Inui, Rindou, Kokonoi.

Bungou Stray Dogs: Ranpo, Dazai, Chuuya, Akutagawa, Atsushi.

Tokyo Ghoul: Hide, Haise, Juuzo, Naki.

Chainsaw Man: Denji.

Death Note: Matt, Mello, L.

Buddy Daddies: Rei, Kazuki.

Black Clover: Yuno, Magna, Finral, Klaus.

Fruits Basket: Haru, Yuki, Kyo, Shigure.

Danganronpa: Hajime, Nagito, Kazuichi, Gundham, Leon, Mondo, Taka, Fuyuhiko.

Sk8 the Infinity: Reki, Joe, Cherry.

Demon Slayer: Inosuke, Obanai, Douma.

Or your fave!

Hope you enjoyed this lil thing, it's nothing special but I had fun writing it!!

Follow for more, I'm busy but working on ✨️ things ✨️

[milfclaren]

oh how i miss daniel and lando’s conversations being recorded because that level of idiot4idiot communication was always unintelligible to the rest of us anyways. it was all delightful animated gibberish and putting each other into fits of laughter. or they were speaking through inside jokes and weird half sentences and they talked over each other but ended up saying the same thing anyways or they were walking a fine line btwn negging and flirting….sigh <3

[vegetableharvester]

The Deceitful world through the Glass.

---

"Purest state of the stone, then be refined by chisels and hammer."

"Gemstones holds more importance than it's luster under the moonlight, may be hold it's beauty yet the pure yet weaker magic stemmed within—are more to us, Alchemist."

Glistening red with it's shadows dancing under the light, a trail of crimson trace from it's prism amid the dark and silent room. Gentle fingers caresses it's edges, sharp yet dull, the woman gaze beyond it's facade with interest piqued and voicing her wonders, lured the young and bright mind in the same space.

"Mama, how did you do that?" Inquired by the girl whose eyes be brimming with pure curiosity upon the matter. Dainty finger pointed at the glowing stone, words be rambling as she says, "The stone is glowing! Like a sun! Teach me ma! Teach me!"

Witnessing her inquisitive of great interest upon the same subject, rather a study. When the child mutter words in gibberish manner, though may be within their piqued attention and desire to know as to quench the thirst, Ruby talks like there's no another tomorrow and the mother was surprised of her sudden change of mood.

Perhaps, she must've wanted to be like her...

"I have my learnings... Therefore I know what must be done and how must be done." Uttered with a faint sigh of wistful from the past, the mother leaned back to her chair and set the stone down at the desk, then glance over her rambunctious daughter whose smile be wide enough to gobble the entire apple.

She smiled from her face, then she said; "If you desire to be taught, then it'll take years to master such."

"Yeah! I wanna be the bestest Alchemist!" Happily declared by Ruby with great enthusiasm from his gleeful words and joyful voice, followed by the ramblings words of prattling voice along with unintelligible meanings of her rants as she continues.

The mother could only chuckled of her declaration, felt the pride of having such daughter who desires to follow and a joy to share her knowledge, the mother heartily embraced her daughter with her jovial voice and confident words; "I'm sure you'll be."

"Because you're my daughter." Said by the mother, a single and gentle poke to her nose.

"Mhm! I have a bestest teacher."

---

Through the bustling village of the idyllic town and people flocks when the merchants docked, to the port where it'll be always kissed by the breeze of the sea and be gaze by the horizon.

Be it day and night.

Gulls cries as it flies, to some perch with kibbles in it's beak, bread or a piece of other meal. Theirs gawking cries met with the chattering and overlapping noises coming from the population, stocks of vendor stall filled to the brim as the baskets nor baggages be full of rations.

"Ms. Vermillion—Oh, it's Ruby!" Exclaimed by the vendor with her eyes widen slight in surprised, then contorted into a smile as she crouched down and met with the girl's eyes. "Running an errands I assume?" Inquired, then Ruby nodded under her flustered face as clenching down at the small note amid her fingers.

"Well, you're certainly growing up as the good child aren't you?" Lively voices spoke of certain words, the vendor ruffles her golden locks with giddiness as she chuckled from mischief in her smile. For few minutes passed, the vendor calmed her self as putting her hands away from Ruby's head, that resulted of Ruby's hair be messed and braids were no longer neatly tied, that comes along with her sheepish face and fidgeting fingers. To the wrinkled note cramped in-between her hands, the vendor then inquired; "Anyways, what can I get for you?"

"I-uh, was looking for... Erm," Ruby muttered while trying to find words to convey, eyes glancing everywhere with her stuttering voice. Then, she unfolded the note and squinted her eyes before reading it; "Th-thymine, and... Uh, Paprika..."

"P-pepper... Mince—?" Unsure of what it says, the vendor felt impatient as she snatched the note from her fidgeting fingers. "Give me that." She said, then perplexed with staggered expression on her face, unintelligible writings that is similar to just wavy lines with hasty movement of the writer's finger, "Oh dear..." She muttered.

"Ms. Vermillion's handwriting looks like a piece of crap."

"No! My mother's handwriting is beautiful!" Interject by the girl's protest with her brows frowning upon the comment and a huff of annoyance she exhaled. From her sudden change of reaction, the vendor could only laugh as she giggles shortly, then she said after; "Okay okay. Let me ask my brother about this, alright?"

The girl nodded in agreement.

---

"Asparagus, Basil Leaves and..." Mumbled as Ruby peering through her basket, filled with herbs and greens then to the wrinkled note in her hand.

"Vanilla Herb, Rosemary..." Continues to mumble her words and her eyes clocking in the items she bought, alone in the bench amid the bustling plaza. Unperturbed when the festive comes near, joviality of expectations blinds their sight of the rising predicament when the hooded figures rushing through the shadows with blades they hold shines under the dark.

"Purest state of the stone, then be refined by chisels and hammer."

Coal fills the hearth, oil tracing for the fire.

"Young lady, may I sit here?" Asked by the old, startled the young girl with immediate glance over the stranger. Then she nodded as she budge aside and averted her gaze back to her groceries, attention all focused on what's on her hand.

"... Thymine and uh... Pepper, and Paprika..."

"Young lady..."

"And then, and then... Fern and uh..." The old calls yet no response, Ruby continue to mumble as she peers through the items within her basket, unbothered for questions and not heeding for any unnecessary in her surroundings.

"Young lady..." A second time the old called with heavy voice imprinted with impatience filled their veins when they slammed their cane to the ground—startling the girl when her eyes swiftly trailed to the person beside, felt agitated with her uttered response stuttered; "Y-yes?"

"Would you like some candy?"

"Rugged..."

"Chipped..."

"Refined..."

Sudden question was asked when the old extended their wrinkled hand with candy in their palm, perplexed as Ruby gazed at the old and she then, thoughtlessly, accepted the candy. The old was harmless for they held the blunt blade, yet the foreboding terrors rising slowly yet hidden below the ground and the ignorance of the passerbys floats above the waters; a beauty before the curtain fleets to the sky, transient...

When the leaves will wilt as the petals fall, roots may grow old and weaken as the life will be called.

To the bustling village full of flocking people when the merchants docked with pile of treasures from their vault, jovial town decored with colors and flowers for the festival to come as the embellished trees surrounds the crowding plaza. Unperturbed with nativity, yet be in joy before the blues and black shroud with misery.

"Look! That's the latest trend, wanna try it out?"

"Wanna have some refreshing and different beverage? Try this one out!"

"Man, look at this fit! Will she like me more?"

"The jewels! They're shining!"

Flocking smiles from people amassing to everywhere from anywhere, laughter and chatters overlaps with brimming bright of jolly as they walk and passing by. Bags be filled with treasures they bought and gifts they chose, head of ebullience laced with their voices and words—be it the rich or poor, the wise or the fool, the sailors and residents, swarming together within this island, to where the light shines against the dark of the night.

"Dust..."

"Ashes... Ashes... Fire oiled by blood... Remnants be gone to time."

---

To the shadows where the hooded figures clashes with bloods are drawn and tainted the ground, remnants of battles engraved to the trees and the corpses littered the meadows amid the forest, lifeless be stomped by the ruthless.

The crushed leaves and the twigs snapped from the small hill nearby lure their attention, eyes gazed over the family woman in white clad. Her golden locks swayed to the wind's wisps as it whispers through the silent forest, and the green eyes glared with scorn and frown in her face.

"Ms. Vermillion, we've come to get you." Said when the hooded figure voice in his enthusiasm, hands extended to the Great Alchemist—the invitation with temptation, knew her desires yet the Great Alchemist sigh exasperatedly.

"To whom it may concern, tell me a reason why should I go back to the organization that long abandoned me and my studies?" Inquired by the mother of Ruby, a twinge of shock the hooded figures felt when the dimming blue light emits from ground they stood upon. "And who sent you here?" Another question she asked, glaring of red in her mind.

"To whom it may CONCERN, there's no room for interrogation or negotiation." They said, not any words to answer as that one hooded figure swiftly avoided her question, irked the Great Alchemist.

"Are you mocking me?"

"Yes, I'm mocking you..."

"Then—" "But I am not here to mock for joy, old friend." Interjected by his sudden response, words that piqued her curiosity, her irritation dissipated when her mind asks for more—to gain the knowledge, against the regarding risks, then be swallowed by temptation; the woman asked, "What are you here for?"

"Lend me an ear!" Exclaimed by the hooded figure with his arms spread around to the air, his rousing words of theatric act with his smile widen in enthusiasm as he gazed at the Great Alchemist.

"Then tell me your proposal." She snarled with an exasperated sigh by his action as she crossed her arms, yet ignored when he continued his bidding in his exaggerations of flowery words and movement like a hummingbird.

"The Order will be of need your talent..."

A treasured knowledge that forbids by man, by religion and beliefs.

"Oh dear Great Alchemist... Lend us your brilliance."

---

"Mama is late..." Muttered when the child pouted in disappointment as she hugged the basket and glancing anywhere to see a familiar woman, yet she has not arrived even the sun has gone and the jolly lights bringing the night away, then the amassing builders and helpers with tools and supplies, passing by while the young girl waits for her mother to come.

"Viridity blinds the visages from the truth..."

"Only death knows the truth...."

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

Icy Kisses

I wrote so much today, holy shit. I think that's the most words I've ever written in less than ten hours. I feel great, might write a lot tomorrow too cause I'm on fire and still have a lot of motivation and inspiration. Anyways, going back to my roots with some Sapphire and Raven angst (with fluff at the end, because I'm nice). i used the prompt "i thought I lost you kiss" one of my favorite tropes ever, from this prompt list. *evil cackle* enjoy, suckers. Also this takes place during book 8 in the series.

Wordcount: 1668

Warnings: angst galore but there’s fluff at the end, panic, the dangers of thousands of tons of snow up in the mountains

FSF Taglist: @rose-bookblood @chalcid @evethenovicewriter @writing-is-a-martial-art @thatprolificauthor @mjjune @wip-nook @fiercely-raging-writer

General Taglist: @enchanted-lightning-aes @/thatprolificauthor

~~~❄️~~~

Tiny snowflakes whipped through the air like little knives, slicing at any and all exposed skin. There were barely even any trees this high on the peak, just blinding white snow and jagged black rocks. 

The cold was almost unbearable, and the wind wasn’t helping a bit. Raven would’ve frozen solid if not for the fur coat secured around his shoulders. The mountain trolls and enormous snow cats with the large saber teeth protruding out of their jaws were clearly faring much better, unbothered by the cold.

He’d forgotten how much he hated wind. It was loud, scratched and clawed at his exposed skin- and the worst part was no matter how much he tied his hair back, the wind kept ripping it out and whipping it right in his face. The wind was so loud and grating on his senses he wanted to tear the wind right out of the sky and chop it into little pieces.

Another snow cat lunged at him, and he swiftly swung his sword in a bloody arc of death- chopping the mountain cat’s head clean off.

On her horse behind him, Snow was firing well aimed arrows at the trolls’ eyes and noses, where they were most sensitive. Lady- along with the other horses- was able to walk on the snow without much of a struggle thanks to Triveya’s spell that kept her hooves mostly on top of the soft white powder, only sinking through about halfway up the hoof. However the spell was due to wear off soon, so they had to finish the fight as soon as possible.

Snow shouted something to him, but even without the wind it sounded like gibberish. He asked her to repeat, and she moved her horse closer. “If you’re done with the cats I could use your help with these trolls!”

Finally understanding, Raven heaved himself up into Dante’s saddle, sword out. That was when he realized Sapphire wasn’t next to him, she usually hopped up right behind him or in front since she was terrible with horses.

He looked over his shoulder, steering Dante around, scanning the area for her. With the red hair, bright pink coat, and loud yelling that always accompanied her fighting, she couldn’t be that hard to spot in the blinding white.

Finally, a little farther down the mountain behind him, he spotted her throwing rocks at the trolls with enough accuracy to nail them in the face and daze them. She was angrily screaming something about how it was not nice to throw people, which made a smile tug at the corner of his mouth. Little Stripe was scampering across her shoulders, shrieking and chattering unintelligibly. Tris and Cass were in front of her, using their swords while Lan and Max backed them up from behind.

Raven tried not to worry too much about her. She could clearly handle this and keep herself relatively out of danger for now. Though he couldn’t help risking a glance over his shoulder to check that the trolls and mountain cats weren’t getting too close for comfort.

While Hestia and Monty were keeping the cats busy, he went to help Snow with the trolls.

Things were going fine. Snow was taking down trolls while he, Kaye, and Indigo got up close to distract them, most of the mountain cats were dead or had run off by now, and there were little to no injuries in their little group so far. Every time he risked a glance down the mountain, Sapphire was doing fine and as out of danger as she could be in these conditions.

Then it went horribly wrong.

One of the trolls had the unfortunately smart idea to chuck a giant boulder up at the slope above them- causing the snow to come crashing down with a thundering rumble.

Snow grabbed all of the group that was up there with her to the side, behind the safety of a large ledge overhead. Raven thought he could beat the snow down the mountain, but Snow stopped him.

“I have to get down there,” he said, hoping to the gods he didn’t sound as scared as he was.

“It’s too dangerous,” Snow told him, “You’ll be buried alive before you can scream.”

“I don’t care!”

Snow kept a firm grip on his arm, keeping him under the ledge. “We’ll get down there the second that the avalanche stops moving, alright?”

He started to protest again, but Snow kept a firm grip on his arm. “Lan is with them and he knows about avalanches like I do. He probably pulled them to safety just like I did with you and the others.”

Reluctantly, Raven took a step back, and leaned heavily against Dante. The horse wasn’t doing so great, as he was used to much warmer temperatures down in Greyvenhill, even with two horse blankets secured on his back. Raven would have to make sure that his horse got plenty of time to warm up by the fire tonight.

The loud roar of the snow and blinding white was making it hard to think on top of the panicked whirlwind of thoughts in his head. He started braiding Dante’s hair, which helped him a little bit to at least not freak out and go barrelling down the mountain. Next to his neat and straight braids in his horse’s mane were messy and uneven ones- but Raven didn’t even think about touching those, she’d worked hard on them. She was getting better, and it seemed to help when there wasn’t much options to move around and she was restless.

After what felt like an infinite amount of time, the mountainside finally stopped moving.

Raven barely gave Snow a second to give the go ahead before he hopped on Dante and started down the mountainside as fast as Dante would go. Indigo was right behind him, and quickly passed him and went ahead. Because the fresh power was quickly settling and becoming almost as hard and heavy as stone, Dante couldn’t move very quickly in the deep snow, especially with Raven riding him- the horse was built for speed, not strength.

The pace made his heart pound faster and harder as it felt like his throat was closing. Most of what he remembered about Snow, Lan, Tris, and Kayes’ advice on avalanches was what to do if you or someone else got buried in the snow- if they were buried more than a foot under, the victim had minutes to live before dying from lack of air.

When he finally arrived at the flatter, much wider slope where the others had been, he couldn’t wait anymore and hopped off.

The area was filled with huge clumps and ridges of settling snow. He’d already spotted some of the others leaving the ridge of jagged black rocks they’d hidden behind.

There was one person missing now.

Raven looked around frantically, scanning the area for anything red, orange, or pink. He was pretty sure he’d stopped breathing minutes ago as his mind continued to race faster and faster.

Snow and the others came over.

“Hey, hey,” Tris held out her hands, “Relax alright? We’ll find her, it’ll take just a minute to search the area-”

“We don’t have minutes!” Raven cried. One hand was gripping the hilt of his sword at his side so tight the knuckles turned white.

Little Stripe came skittering across the top of the snow, and screeched to a halt at his feet. “It’s S-s-s-sapphire.”

Raven immediately snatched up the tiny chipmunk and demanded. “What? Where?”

“She’s- she’s- sh-sh-she’s trapped under- trapped under the snow! I managed- I managed- to d-d-dig a hole for air and sssslip out but the sssnow is crushing th-th-the air out- the air out- offfff her lungs-”

The cold mountain air froze in his chest. “Take me there,” He choked out, “Now.”

Little Stripe leaped out of his hand and dashed across the white expanse, kicking up snow in her wake. Everyone rushed after her, Raven at the front.

Snow and Tris pulled ahead. At the spot where the chipmunk stopped, they started to dig, and soon red hair and a pink sleeve appeared. Once deep enough, both girls grabbed one of Sapphire’s arms, and yanked her out.

She collapsed to the snow clutching a snowy mitten to her chest as she gasped for air. Ice crystals clung to her cloak, dress, and hair, and her nose and cheeks were bright red from the cold.

Darting across the deep snow as fast as his boots would allow, Raven sprinted over to Sapphire and pulled her into a bone crushing hug. She hugged him back just as tight as he buried his face in her hair.

He finally opened his eyes, and their chapped and cold lips locked and he kissed her like there was no tomorrow. She kissed him back just as hard, cupping his face with mittens covered in ice crystals that stung his face with cold- he could barely find it in himself to notice much less care.

Another avalanche could’ve happened right there and buried them- and neither would’ve noticed, nor cared.

When the need for air beat them both, they finally broke the kiss, but didn’t loosen the embrace. He gently cupped her face and said in a shaky voice, “Don’t you ever, ever scare me like that again.” He pressed his forehead against hers, tears leaking out and immediately hardening in the freezing air. “I thought I was going to lose you again…” He whispered, his voice cracking at the last word. 

He added, attempting to be stern. “One of these days you’re going to scare me so bad it’ll be the death of me. Don’t do that!”

She nuzzled her head into the crook of his neck. “I don’t plan on it.”

And then they and the others found a stable and sheltered ridge farther down the mountain with enough room for the giant tent, and set up camp for the night.

[happi-speech]

What does gibberish and funny sounds sound like in your language?

In Amerikan english, gibberish looks like long vowels, glottal noises, and uncommon consonant clusters like "gloop" and "fagglewang", and "clushtz". I think we also tend to make syllable number part of the gibberish, with long words being extra gibberish, along with the unusual and absurd mix of morphemes, like "exconfuckable" (im crying 😂). Syntax is usually all fucked up since english in general has a pretty strict SVO structure and is less reliant on grammatical cues for words' role, so saying "big the for pickle taste I ate" to say "I ate the big pickle for taste" is complete nonsense, and saying it like "biggle thuh frummer pickledickle tastie eye-why atebate" is complete gibberish. Its english-like, but ultimately unintelligible.

Funny sounds to us seem to take on short and low vowels with harsh consonants in words like "fickle" and "fucker". But also reduplication and certain syllable structures with "funny" vowels like "dangalang" and "doodoo" (this shouldnt be this amusing 🤣). Clitics are used a lot too emphasize the funny and vowels may be changed in words ("da" instead of the, "päper" instead of "paper").

Um anyway so what sounds in ur language constitute "gibberish" and typically structure "funny" words and sounds in ur language? Im so extremely curious. The distinction between gibberish, nonsense, and language is so interesting to me!

[fiendfriend]

Thoughts on Kafka’s Metamorphosis (ballet) but if you're looking for something eloquent and well thought out, y'ain't gonna find it in here!

I finally decided to track down the royal ballet’s production of the metamorphosis after spending some time with a friend, mutually hating on that one atrocious Goodreads review of the novel itself. You know the one. Being generally ill and having had it impact my ability to work/”be productive” as well as my relationship with my family and to a certain extent my friends, I care quite a bit about the original text. I bought a copy from Border's in the 8th grade, read the majority of it sitting cross-legged on the floor of the aisle, and begged my dad to “loan me” the $12 to get it. No one really talked to me about this book and probed deeper into my investment in it until I was in a high school remedial English class. (It was jokingly called the burnout convention by students. Our teacher did not enjoy this in the slightest.) I think that was the first time I had a conversation like that with anyone beyond surface-level close reading that they teach you how to do throughout most middle to high school English classes. The kind that people get mad at on the internet. “Sometimes the curtains are just blue!” You know. I liked those activities and thought they were really fun, and wanted to learn how to do them at a more complex (?) level for all of the things I liked. Which, if I talk to you a lot, is probably pretty obvious. 

Anyway. The ballet. I wasn't sure what to expect. I’d only seen still images and avoided the trailers and official clips because I wanted to be surprised, but I knew it was going to be visceral, mostly because I don't think it’s possible for the metamorphosis not to be? But I don't really know how to interact with ballet aside from just sitting back and allowing it to happen. No idea where to start with breaking down any of the resulting interpretations or feelings afterward. 

The set is split equally into two rooms – Gregor’s bedroom, and the main room of the Samsa apartment. Everything is bright white and gradually becomes dirtied by a dark oil or grease that gradually gets spread around by Gregor himself while he writhes and contorts around alone in his room. 

I think what most surprised me, out of everything, was the I guess obfuscation of dialogue. Dialogue isn't exactly a thing in most (all?) ballet, so as far as I know with a half-assed Google search, this is an unconventional decision. My knowledge is limited. I’ve seen The Nutcracker like once, and half of Swan Lake. 

Grete, Mr. and Mrs. Samsa, the housecleaner, and the bearded men all speak at one point or another, but it’s completely unintelligible thanks to the backing score. Could be gibberish and I wouldn't know a thing! I enjoy this aspect quite a bit. Gregor Samsa is the protagonist here, and when your family is reacting to your existence with anger, disgust, and fear, I don't think the exact words matter at all. When your father is screaming and throwing apples at you, or the housecleaner is loudly and angrily shouting at you over a mess you cannot in any possible way clean yourself, the message is pretty clear. I keep thinking about it. I’ve been there, where I know for a fact somebody is angry at me in the other room, and they’re shouting or slamming things around, but I can't make out what they’re saying. It’s terrifying. It makes you feel like shit. The muffling of clear dialogue perfectly captures the fear and shame that come with anger and resentment. Grete at first continues to be warm toward Gregor, but she too comes to resent him when he becomes inconvenient. She goes from lying by his closed door and playing music to screaming at him within the span of twenty or so minutes. It’s easier for her to love him when he remains unseen in his room. Her quick turnaround seems to coincide with the three dark figures who appear in Gregor’s room at night. This is an aspect unique to the ballet. After some thought, I think these figures can be representative of the last affectionate tie Gregor had with other humans being in the process of severing. I’m taking the three dark figures to be Gregor’s “chaos”, opposite of the “order” represented by the three bearded men. They mark Gregor as being one of them with additional grease, as excreted by Gregor’s insect body. The room becomes gradually filthier as Gregor is neglected and negativity toward him builds up within the family.

Obviously, the section in which the bearded men appear is condensed quite a bit compared to the novel. The “order” of the bearded men and the main room of the Samsa apartment and the “chaos” of Gregor’s bedroom and Gregor himself meet within the span of one song, more or less, while the family dances with the bearded men. Gregor quickly escapes his room and spreads the dark oil/grease coating his body to the bright white of the kitchen, setting off the outburst from his father. In the novella, the apple becomes lodged in his back. He is still their family. There is no reason why he should not be included, save for the revulsion and resentment of others. He can’t be included, because the only way for his family to enjoy the order of the bearded men is through Gregor’s absence. 

I’m not familiar with dance as an art form at all. I fully trust that these professionally trained dancers are aware of the limitations of their bodies. Still, watching Edward Watson contort and writhe is painful at times. His body becomes foreign and upsetting and alien, easily invoking the mental image of a bug stuck on its back by splaying his fingers and toes and twisting his limbs, and it’s perfect. I found myself wincing in sympathy at any particular awkward movement that I know I’d hurt myself attempting. Fittingly, while he hurts to look at, and is covered in the dark grease of his perceived lack of humanity, his eyes are always perfectly visible and perfectly human. I’m so grateful that this was filmed the way it was. I really don’t think I would have come away with the same level of… whatever I feel about it if I hadn’t been able to see his eyes. 

There’s much more that’s stuck with me that I can’t exactly detangle this soon after watching, or only after watching it once. I may sit down and spend some more time with it in a little while, maybe a few days. There’s a lot I haven't touched on at all, like the score being filled with things like alarm clocks and train whistles and the way it seamlessly flows from beautiful to minimalistic to terrifying. Until I sort all that out, here are some photos of the production. First row of three by Alastair Muir, second row of three by Tristram Kenton.

[soysaucevictim]

I just watched/listened to Daniel Thrasher's "Igowallah". (Otherwise titled, "How rap sounds to non-english speakers".)

It got me thinking about music and linguistics shit.

On the one hand - this kinda makes me think of Adriano Celentano's "Prisencolinensinainciusol" and Neil Cicierega's "Word Disassociation" in that it's meant to be gibberish. Tho I think the fact Celentano had a bit more of "a point" since he was Italian (presumably ESL), making a song blending phonemes in how he crafted that song. Just to grab this blurb from the wiki article:

The song is intended to sound to its Italian audience as if it is sung in English spoken with an American accent, however the lyrics are deliberately unintelligible gibberish with the exception of the words "all right".[8][9]... Celentano's intention with the song was not to create a humorous novelty song but to explore communication barriers. The intent was to demonstrate how English sounds to people who do not understand the language proficiently. "Ever since I started singing, I was very influenced by American music and everything Americans did. So at a certain point, because I like American slang—which, for a singer, is much easier to sing than Italian—I thought that I would write a song which would only have as its theme the inability to communicate. And to do this, I had to write a song where the lyrics didn't mean anything."[6]

And Neil's song also has a lovely, vaguely "fluent aphasia" sort of feeling. But like. Some of the strange couplings of the nonsense strings of actual words conjure surreal as hell imagery. Like what the hell even is, "My elusive hula yellow sketching creamy helium gentlemanly communique"?? ?

I don't really know what was like, the artistic intent behind Thrasher's song here - besides some kinda of parody of rap. Which I guess is fine? It is kinda of interesting - in comparing it w/ Adriano and Neil.

I'm just kinda iffy about some folks just being snobs about rap in the comments of it, man. It feels like this veers a bit dangerously close to how White people can mock Chinese (and Cino-adjacent) speech. Just because of the, well, distinctly Black American roots hip hop has.

As someone who probably has mild language processing issues with lyrical content anyways (so i typically first pay attention to instrumental/production elements), but also enjoys hip hop regardless... people just going off abt how that's just what rap sounds like to English speakers. Just gives me a bit of the ick? (Especially with me realizing that maybe, just maybe, hating on disco being popular was at least partially fueled on by antiblack attitudes... sooo...)

Can't really glean or comment on intent here (not really that familiar w/ Thrasher as an entertainer, so I'm trying to be charitable) - just commenting on some of the feedback I've seen there. Also also, just as a bit of writing care (like in art, not like casual txt conversation) - it's worthwhile to check if a key-smash bit of gibberish isn't some kind of obscure slur in a different language, just as a show of good faith. Because man, this song almost sounded like it was at least flirting with that mistake. (Just an experience I've seen from the larger writing community on world-building stuff.)

Basically there are things I do legitimately enjoy about this song that I got recc'd. There's some fascinating linguistics and art philosophy conversations to be had here. But there's also a just some background reservations I just wanted to ramble about.

Idk if any of this makes much sense. But. Yeah. :,D

[krytus]

writing foreshadowing is so fun its just like. hehheehehe innocuous detail. but inside you are.

[heliads]

The Natural Way of Things

Based on this request: "I was wondering if you could do a hiccup x goddess reader who control nature and I was wondering if you could set in httyd 2 where the reader uses her titan to fight drago and the alpha but she sacrifice her life for berk as she freezes to death (like nari from trollshunters)"

i have not actually seen trollhunters so i hope i still managed to do this request justice <3 it was so good (and i would never pass up an opportunity to do angst!)

masterlist

Hiccup is wasting his time. He’s avoiding his father’s call to come help with chieftain duties yet again, which means that Hiccup is searching for any and all excuses to stay hidden. Right now, he’s sifting through old chests buried deep in the recesses of his family’s house. Some of this stuff hasn’t been found in years, which is exactly the energy Hiccup is trying to channel at the moment.

Perusing the stacks of generations-old note keeping, he’s struck by one chest in the back. Judging by the style of inlaid designs, it’s among the oldest here. Spiderwebs practically tie the thing down, and there’s enough dust coating the top that it appears to have undergone a recent snowfall.

Curious, Hiccup reaches for the iron lock securing the lid in place. It has garnered enough rust over the past couple hundred years that it twists off in his hands, whoops. He carefully places it aside, promising himself that he’ll look into getting that fixed even though he knows full well that he won’t.

Hiccup lifts the top of the chest, leaning it back against the wall. There isn’t much inside, a few old spearheads and archaic treasures that every chieftain keeps around in the hopes of inspiring some kind of story. Hiccup’s about to declare the whole venture worthless when his eyes catch on a handmade leather satchel at the very back.

Great pains have been taken to keep the thing closed, with a significant number of cumbersome stitches lacing the opening shut. However, time and age have conspired to make the thread weaken, and the leather has gaped open just enough so that Hiccup can see a scrap of paper tucked away inside. He can make out some kind of writing scrawled onto the page, but in the mere half-light of the torch glowing in the brazier beside him, he can’t tell what it says.

Hiccup considers the fact that he probably shouldn’t be opening this, just going off of the efforts his ancestors have gone to in order to keep the thing shut, then decides to open it anyway. Ancient traditions are no match for teenage boredom.

The years have weakened the threads enough that Hiccup can open the leather pouch with ease, and seconds later he pulls out the paper and unfolds it in his hands. The words detailed on the page are in his language, but they seem antiquated, and describe some sort of process that has long gone out of fashion, if it was ever in fashion at all.

Hiccup stands up, walking closer to his torch so more light can fall on the aged paper. Brow furrowed, he starts to read aloud, although what he’s saying seems more like meaningless gibberish than anything else.

Towards the end of his unintelligible sermon, Hiccup realizes that he recognizes the syllables his mouth is shaping. A long time ago, he and a couple of friends had stumbled upon ancient texts in what served as the Berk record keeping area. His father had been furious when he discovered the kids paging through what Hiccup later found out were pagan spells, the stuff of nightmares.

This writing looks exactly like those spells, and as Hiccup keeps going, he feels something change in the air, as if the ground is no longer as solid beneath his feet. A sudden wind comes, despite the fact that he is indoors, and scatters the dust on the multitude of chests still littering the room. Hiccup blinks to ward off the sudden change in pressure, and when he opens his eyes again, he is no longer alone.

Hiccup stumbles back in surprise. There’s a young woman standing before him, and although she appears to be about his age, Hiccup has long since learned that you can never trust your eyes on matters like this.

He regards her cautiously, still unwilling to recover the distance he lost. “Who are you, and why are you here?”

The woman laughs, and the sound reminds Hiccup of wind moving through trees, the deep rustle of leaves against branches. “Why am I here? I assumed you would know, you’re the one who summoned me.”

“I summoned you?” Hiccup asks. He feels that he should be more aware of that. Shouldn’t someone know if they were summoning people?

The woman nods, like he’s an idiot. “Yeah, you read the summoning spell. What do you people need now? If you say a miracle, you’ll have to be more specific. I think I’m going to start performing random miracles if I get asked that one more time. Maybe I’ll grant your enemies unlimited harvests or something.”

Hiccup is feeling more confused by the second. “You can grant miracles?”

The woman spreads her hands. “Well, among other things, yeah.” She takes in the bewildered look on his face and sighs. “You don’t know who I am, do you?”

Hiccup winces. “Not at all, sorry. I just found that spell, but I don’t know what it does.”

The woman considers him a moment longer, then shrugs. “Cool. Less work for me, at any rate. I’m Y/N, by the way.”

Hiccup nearly chokes. “Like the nature goddess?”

She flashes him a grin, bright as the flame of a torch. “Exactly like the nature goddess. Your ancestors must have had a summoning spell and never talked about it. I can’t blame them, I’m contractually obligated to answer at least one request and I could do anything from promising you that you’ll never face a drought to smiting your foes.”

Y/N smiles, as if this casual smiting offer is nothing to worry about. Hiccup’s fairly sure that it is, though.

“Uh, I don’t need anything right now, I think. I’m sure some of the other people in the village might need you, though, maybe with their harvests or something.”

Y/N looks intrigued by this. “I think you’re the first person to think about someone else when offered a godly favor.”

Hiccup swallows hard. “What does that mean?”

She grins again. “It means I like you more than the rest, obviously. Now, I could technically go back to Asgard, but it has been a little boring of late, and I wouldn’t mind the distraction. Do you mind if I walk around your village for a while? I’d love to see what humanity is up to from your point of view.”

Hiccup nods a little too quickly. “Yeah, no problem.”

He’s now got a friendly goddess just casually strolling around beside him. No problem at all, right?

Wrong. He is so afraid of doing something to make her angry and risk the incurrent smiting of his village that Hiccup can barely think straight. Eventually, she takes pity on him, and tells him straight up to start stressing so much.

“I’m not going to kill you, or anybody you know. I swear it. Now, can you please stop panicking? Your pacing is freaking out the birds.”

Hiccup freezes mid-pace. “Uh, sorry. I just don’t know how to deal with this, I guess. I’ve never met a goddess before.”

Y/N leans against a nearby tree and considers this. “Most people don’t. The gods like to stay up in their respective domains or Odin’s palace. I suppose I’m the exception. I think you guys are fun.”

Hiccup lifts a brow. “Thanks, I think. If you had the chance, though, why would you choose to walk with mortals if you could go live with the gods forever? I figure we’d be way more of a mess.”

Y/N points a finger at him. “See, that’s exactly why I don’t want to be with the gods. So many of us get distracted with immortality that they’re a dreadful waste of company. Most of the time, we don’t die, but some of the gods spend so many years trying to avoid a potential fate that they don’t actually live. They’ll stay up there forever, not any different from when they were first born. Humans change so fast, but the gods linger on forever.”

Hiccup blows out a slow breath as he thinks about this. “Isn’t it terribly boring, then? To go so long and be the same person forever?”

Y/N nods. “Exactly. That’s why we do things like cause human wars or visit human villages. It never lasts long, but it does break the monotony.”

Hiccup taps a hand absentmindedly against his leg. “If you’re here to break the monotony, can I ask that you stick to the ‘visiting human villages’ part and not start wars? We’re not really in a position for that.”

This is quite true- thanks to all the dragons, Berk is in a bit of a precarious position, and not just because one poorly timed blast of fire could send the entire town plummeting into the sea. Hiccup really doesn’t think he could take a war right now, not since he’s trying to figure out how to be a chieftain due to the possibility that his dad is going to retire over the course of the next couple of years.

Y/N smirks. “I’ll do my best. Besides, I don’t really want to cause a war. I just want to go around, hearing what the earth has to say and maybe fixing a few things along the way. Some of your cliffs need maintenance, and having so many fire breathing dragons smoking up the place really isn’t great for your air quality.”

Hiccup shrugs. “Stay as long as you like. I wouldn’t mind the company.”

He probably shouldn’t be so forward with a goddess, but the words are already out there, so it’s not like he can really do anything about it. Besides, Y/N smiles at him so brightly the second he says it that Hiccup doesn’t mind his lack of a filter.

As it turns out, having Y/N stay in Berk is absolutely amazing. At first, Hiccup didn’t really know what to do, whether or not he’s supposed to treat her like the divinity that she is or just as he would another mortal. In the end, Hiccup decides to act as if she’s a friend, and soon enough, that is exactly what she becomes. Being near her lets him look at the world through the eyes of someone who’s been around for quite a long time, and Hiccup develops a better appreciation for all of the small quirks that make Berk what it is.

Even his father’s obvious hints that Hiccup will one day take up the mantle of village chieftain don’t seem so bad. It’s what would always happen, that much is clear, but talking to Y/N made him realize that he doesn’t have to fear the passage of time. The years will come, they always do, but the best way to live is to face everything head-on. That’s how you make the memories that matter most, after all.

Hiccup thought he could handle everything that would come his way. He was sure of it, in fact, after a couple months went by and he still doesn’t have to face a world without Y/N there beside him.

Yet why is it that he stands alone now, watching a funeral barge burst into flames? Hiccup believed that he was ready to face everything the world could throw at him, but it turns out that he was very, very wrong. There is one thing that he cannot bear, and that is the death of his father. His mother is now here, somewhere in the background behind him, but Hiccup can’t just switch out one parent for the next and pretend that everything is the same.

This hurt cuts like a blade, and there is no way to escape its dull agony. The loss pierces every aspect of Hiccup’s life, even in the ways he didn’t expect. Adjusting the sword at his belt, Hiccup remembers the first time his dad taught him how to handle a weapon. Staring out at the ocean, Hiccup pictures memories of himself when he was little, learning how to swim or sail a boat or anything that Stoick could teach him. All of that is gone now, except for the pictures in his head.

He will have his revenge, of that there is no question. Hiccup forms a band of soldiers willing to fight. Among them are his childhood friends, now grown into warriors of their own right, his newly rediscovered mother, and Y/N. Hiccup got the initial sense that she didn’t want to take part in the conflicts of mortals, but she refused to leave his side if it meant getting payback for the death of his father. Now, she’s dressed in a god’s battle armor, and he doesn’t think there has ever been a better sight.

Drago doesn’t know what’s coming for him, that much is certain. Hiccup’s party touches down on the battlefield, swords drawn and battle cries howling from throats. Hiccup feels a rush of adrenaline unlike anything he’s ever known before, and it is utterly fantastic. In the past, he’s worried about not becoming a great warrior like his father, but he changes that tide of history today. Right now, Hiccup is deadly, he is bloodthirsty, he is ready. He is his father’s son.

That isn’t to say that the fight isn’t difficult, though, far from it. Hiccup manages to break Toothless from Drago’s dragon’s hypnosis, but the larger dragon is still out and killing swathes of fighters at a time. Something has to be done about it, but Hiccup has no idea how to take on the dragon and its master while they’re still rampaging like the gods themselves.

Someone moves beside him, and Hiccup turns to see Y/N walking up, her eyes fixed on the scene ahead.

“We have to take out the dragon. After that, we can kill Drago, no problem.” She says, and Hiccup nods in agreement.

“The only problem is that I don’t know how. Toothless barely survived the hypnosis, I don’t know if he can take another strong fight.”

Y/N considers this, then turns to him. “I know how.”

Hiccup cocks his head to the side, trying to figure out why she looks so sad all of a sudden. “What do you mean?”

She smiles, and Hiccup doesn’t think he’s ever seen a happy expression look so utterly tragic. “You’ll see in a moment. It’s just- you’ve made this all worth it, you know? All of it. Thanks for giving me a chance to live.”

Y/N reaches out to squeeze his hand once, and then she turns and runs, sprinting down towards the battlefield until she can reach Drago and his dragon face to face. She spreads her arms, and the very earth itself shakes and cracks, rising suddenly until it seems taller than a mountain. It moves with her every command, stalking almost like an animal towards the enemy dragon.

The dragon snarls a blast of sheer ice towards Y/N’s earthen creation, which falters but continues on. The soil around her seems damaged, though, something Drago notices with a delighted cackle. Seconds later, the enemy dragon shoots ice again, this time not directed at Y/N’s natural challenger but at her. She stumbles, the entire ground shaking for miles around, and almost falls.

Hiccup thinks he screams, but he can’t tell. Someone’s holding him back, and no matter how hard he tries, he cannot run to her. The ice was too strong, while she was expending too much energy trying to maintain her creation. It’s killing her, he can tell that much, but even as the ice climbs slowly and resolutely towards her, she forces her creature forward. It slams into the dragon, shoving a spear of rock down its throat.

The dragon chokes on it, spitting out soil, but it’s too late, and it curls in on itself and moves no more. Y/N, though, is lost as well. The ice reaches her now, crawling up her vines and stones until it touches her hands. From there, it spreads in seconds, hardening the very heart that Hiccup has grown to admire. She has time to look back at him just the once, so Hiccup has the perfect view as the ice fully encases her. Seconds later, it shatters, and Hiccup is left with nothing to remember her by but his memories yet again.

From there, it is easy to kill Drago. Down his primary dragon, Drago is just a man, and Hiccup is filled with enough wrath to throttle a thousand warriors. Once it’s done, and once the dragons have been freed, it still isn’t enough. Hiccup is consumed by grief. Losing his father should have killed him, but losing Y/N? It wasn’t even a possibility that he could consider.

Hiccup doesn’t entirely remember how he got back to Berk. Maybe someone got him onto his dragon so Toothless could fly him home, but he has no recollection of the journey. Hiccup wakes up potentially days later, although he wishes he could go to sleep for another couple of years. Maybe when he finally forces himself out of unconsciousness in a decade or so, he’ll finally be ready to face the immense loss he feels right now.

Turning over onto his side in an attempt to block out the light peeking in through his windows, Hiccup’s gaze catches on something folded neatly on a table near his bed. Sitting up, he reaches for it, and realizes that it’s a letter. He opens it, and what is written inside makes the tears course even more readily than before.

Dear Hiccup,

If you’re reading this note, it means I wasn’t able to retrieve it, and I’m probably dead. I thought something like this would happen; I have never been one for combat, but I think you knew that. Gods cause wars, they don’t fight in them. I wasn’t ready for this, but if it meant protecting you and your village, I would die a hundred times over again. I have made my peace with this, and so must you.

I’m sorry to leave you after yet another loss, but it must happen. The earth will keep on surviving even if I’m gone, don’t worry about that, but it still needs people to look after it. Plant a tree or something for me, will you? Anything to make sure it stays around.

I have to go now, you’re calling for me and I want to be ready with my answer. Don’t let yourself be dragged down by this, Hiccup, I have always liked your smile too much for that.

I just realized that you first met me with a letter, and now I’m saying goodbye with one too. I suppose Fate has a sense of humor when it comes to its favorite characters. You were mine, if it means anything.

Y/N L/N

It takes Hiccup a long time to stop clutching the paper, even after his tears mar the paper and smudge her scrawled handwriting. He’s already broken her wish to keep his chin up, but he can hardly help that, can he?

At some point, he forces himself to put the letter down and step outside his cabin. He isn’t strong enough to see people yet, especially because he knows that they’ll try to talk to him about this, so he disappears into the woods instead. He moves blindly at first, not really caring about where he’s going or what he’s doing, but eventually he stops in a clearing, and looks around.

It’s beautiful here, he can admit that. The morning sun is shining through the trees, and birds call out greetings from their hidden vistas in branches and on top of cliffs. If he tries, he thinks he can sense her here, somewhere, in this place that was her home. The earth is hers, all of nature is hers, and now here he is, trying to find her again. Hiccup closes his eyes, and when a breeze ripples through the glen, he swears that he can almost feel a hand in his.

Perhaps he isn’t so alone after all.

requested by @chocotacobread, thank you for your patience in my getting this out!

disney tag list: @rogueanschel, @lovesanimals0000, @thatfangirl42, @amortensie, @avadakadabra93

[blzzrdstryr]

Reveries of the Past. Yandere!Childe x Fatui!gn!reader

Wordcount: 3875

CW: Dissociation, graphic depiction of violence, hallucinations, unhealthy relationship and unhealthy power dynamics.

A.N.: I used a lot of my experience with dissociations in this and if it makes you uncomfortable, I would advice not to read it. I also plan on writing continuation for this, as it’s set before the Rite of Descension. P.s. I am not a native English speaker, so could you notify me if there’s awkward wording.

[Next chapter]

There are plenty of times you find yourself reminiscing about the past and now, your mind slips back to your memories, as you look at the horribly mangled body of the treasure hoarder. The stench of blood stuffs up your nose, it’s sickly sweet metallic odor making your gut clench and nausea rise, as your limbs grow heavier and numb. You don’t feel  like you belong in your skin and bones and blood anymore - it’s cold, so cold, yet you don’t feel any of it. You are an outsider, an unwanted intruder in the house that is your body, an indifferent observer looking at the world through the thick glass.

The world around disfigures, shapes and colors changing in the constant whirlwind - they jump and dance around, small becoming large and large shrinking so much it’s barely visible, green shifts to red to blue and to yellow and to million of other colors, and sounds suddenly become muffled, losing their sharpness, but you don’t care about it: the part that is “you” fled to the daydreams of your childhood moments ago, leaving a clinically observing, yet unfeeling being behind. 

Adults would describe you as a perfect child: quiet, obedient and dutiful, you were a stark contrast to the other louder and more free spirited kids. You studied hard, cleaned the house, helped with dishes and cooking and never talked back. 

I can't upset mom and dad because they work so much. I can't play with other kids because if I do, they will make fun of me, I have to study hard and get good grades, because mom said I will have a good job and become rich and help them. 

These particular memories don't feel good to you: they're bleak and boring, yet full of silent shame - they make your throat clog and eyes water, as something burning starts to bloom deep underneath your skin. 

Childe stops beating the still alive treasure hoarder, a blood smeared on the cheek and a dangerous glint in his eyes, and turns his head to you. 

"Hey, how about lending me a helping hand?", there’s a hunger in his voice you recognize, he wants to teach a lesson to the debtors, then. You walk towards him, feeling your knees get weaker and weaker with each step for some reason. A dagger made of ice shines in your hand with cold light. 

"It's no wonder [First] received a vision! My [First] is always so good and smart, there are no children better" the exact words your mother says, as she brags to her friends, showing them the vision you were bestowed with. You left it to her, not caring what will happen to it - despite all the child's wonder you felt before receiving it, the glowing orb doesn’t look so amazing to you now. It feels foreign and ugly, a reminder of what happened seconds before you gained it. 

“You know, when I was a child”, he takes the weapon and focuses on the treasure hoarder’s leader again, “we made a special kind of promise”. It’s tip travels to the hoarder’s hand. “You make a pinkie promise, you keep it all your life”

The sweet voice he uses and the fact that you  know the nursery rhyme too would make you sick in the stomach the other day, but not now. 

You don’t exactly remember how you joined the Fatui - it happened shortly after you gained a vision, when you were still too numb and cold to the outside world after the Event. 

Mom will hate me, dad will hate me too. I can’t let them know.

Your parents say that officials just knocked on the front door one day and offered you an entry into the Fatui and a monthly salary, big enough to stop your parents from overworking themselves. You were terrified back then, Fatuis despite being known as a diplomatic organization are still a mystery to the ordinary Shezhnayan and a direct servants to Her will. The thought of disappointing Tsaritsa or letting down Snezhnaya was enough to paralyze you, but seeing the smiles on your parents faces was enough to make you swear to yourself, that you will work there no matter how scary it seems.

“You break a pinkie promise, I throw you on the ice.” The blade stops between phalanges of the little finger: “The cold will kill the pinkie that once betrayed your friend", he presses it, strong enough to detach the limb from the rest of the body in one swift slash. Treasure hoarder starts to cry and scream from the sudden pain, yet quickly chokes on it as Childe hits him in the solar plexus. The crack of bones feels deafening among the sea of muffled sounds.

Training was rigorous to say the least, you came back to your dorm room absolutely exhausted and after you fell on the bed you were practically dead to the world. Turns out, having a vision wasn’t enough to make you a fighter - you needed to know how to climb, swim, run with a weight to lift and wield a weapon. There were other children and teens with you, they eyed your vision with a mix of adoration and envy, you pretended not to catch it in turn.

“The frost will freeze your tongue off so you never lie again”, harbinger forces the victim's jaw apart by squeezing it with one hand, the other rapidly forcing a dagger inside the mouth. Treasure hoarder gasps and mumbles, fat tears forming in his eyes. A part of you expects a sound of parting flesh, but none comes: Tartaglia stands up and removes the blade, leaving a shivering and terrified man laying on the ground.

“Well,” Childe shrugs, as if he didn’t just dismember a person, voice back to his cheery tone : “You didn’t actually make a pinkie promise, so consider it a small mercy”. The treasure hoarder cowers even more, snuggling the injured hand close to the bruised chest. “But if you fail to repay your debt I will oversee that the frost”, he points in your direction, a treasure hoarder’s eyes going wide as he notices your vision, “will actually freeze your lying tongue off”, his voice descends again, back to it’s dangerous half-whisper.

You meet Ajax during the winter, he’s close to you in age and just arrived into Fatui grounds. He boasts and shows off to all of you, and you desperately want to retort something acidic to shut him up and rip off that arrogant bravado, yet say nothing, picturing how the tomorrow training session will have him laying flat on his back, too hurt and too tired to move even a single finger. 

He defeats the trainer in less than a minute.

Now, that the treasure hoarder fled, still snuggling disfigured limb, Childe turns attention back to you. “You seem a little bit disinterested here”, his hand on your cheek is so foreign, it’s burning and freezing at the same time, the shock from the unwanted touch almost strong enough to pull you back into reality. He notices your unintentional flinching and unfocused eyes “Ah, you hurt my feelings, [First]! And I thought we already became friends”. 

You say nothing, cold and unmoving, blind and deaf to the outside world, his words register a second too late, and there’s no cliche phrase for you to reply with. He looks a bit baffled and deflated for a second, but shrugs it off, just like he did during teen years, when you deliberately ignored all his attempts at catching your attention.

“Huh, even if you are so cold to me, I still forgive you”, he takes your hand, his touch still too overwhelming for you to process and pulls you back to Liyue harbor, your legs barely bending as you walk after him, like an obedient dog trailing it’s master.

“You know [First], I can beat you up so badly, that you will barely walk”, you put feather aside, stopping writing the letter to your parents as you glare at Ajax with barely masked indignation. He grins, satisfied to finally catch your attention after the whole day of pestering you. “I am aware of that” you reply in an absolutely flat tone, holding yourself from pouncing on him and trying to break the teeth out of that smug smile. He beams even wider, as if sensing your not-so-good intentions, revealing even more pearly whites as if taunting you.

“But I won’t, count yourself lucky”. And he leaves, this short interaction filling you with so much rage that you shake, handwritten letters noticeably becoming sharper and faster, your thoughts clouding around the idea of acquating his face with your boots. 

 Nonetheless, you indeed count yourself fortunate enough, when you see Ajax defeating grown men with bare hands. When you two, the only vision holders among your peers have to spar, he always goes easy on you, prefering to immobilize you rather than beating, making your defeat less painful yet even more humiliating. 

Almost at the end of your trail he suddenly stops and says something, but you don't catch it, words turning into separate vowels and then fusing together into one unintelligible gibberish mess. He leans in, close enough for his breath to burn your neck, and he continues to get closer, until his empty eyes look into yours glazed ones. He seems disappointed for a second and backs down, his breathing no longer fanning your skin. 

Distantly you think that you somehow angered him and he will slap you for it, and do nothing to dodge the hit - you barely feel pain in this condition anyway, but he doesn’t. The road to the Northland Bank is completed in absolute silence, Childe no longer trying to grab your attention, only when you enter Liyue Harbor does he whisper, that you two must look like a pair with all that hand holding. Judging by the volume and tone of his voice he says it more to himself than to you.

***

You come back to yourself in the safety of your room on the third room of the Northland bank. It feels like a rush of sensation, as everything becomes sharper and clearer again, like you just swam to the surface of water from the very depths of it. An invisible bubble around your head pops in one moment, and the world becomes real again, mind and body connecting for once more.

Eyes and ears focused you take in surroundings: the room is neat and lifelessly empty - just a bed and a working desk with a stack of written but unsent letters, along with a small bookcase near, no figurines, pictures or even plants to decorate living place, as you see no reason to adorn the area you use for sleeping only. Indiscernible wallpapers and a small window close to the middle of the bed finish the picture of austerity.

 Once, your memory catches up to you, you can't help groan from the shame and irritation, hiding your face in both hands. Afterwards  always feels both like a disgraceful escape and a warm blanket during the stormy night, a duality that you accepted long ago after joining the Fatui and today is no exception. You curse Harbinger when you remember why exactly you had an episode, and get up from the bed you threw yourself on minutes ago. You come to the desk, taking a clean form of a relocation request from the drawer and writing materials. 

Filling in the blank feels like commiting a felony to you for some reason - you stop several times when you hear footsteps in the corridor, focusing on the door,ready to hide the half written form and say some lie as an excuse. You don't list the Childe-related reasons, knowing that there's nothing that could make any of the Harbingers face the consequence for their actions, and instead you write completely normal and fake causes: health concerns, family matters and so on. Part of you doubts that this will work and you will have the fortune to get away from a certain harbinger as far as possible. Trying and failing is better than never attempting, you think, quickly writing the paper.

Once you finish it, you almost rush to Ekaterina, praying that you won't run into a certain ginger on the way. Sometime ago you caught Tartaglia checking your letters, for a secrecy he said back then, we can’t let anyone know about the coming operation. Childe then instilled that every sent and received letter should be checked, lest Qixing and other Liyuens learned what Fatui had in plan. It sounded logical and sensible, but the paranoid thought that he enforced this policy just to have a glimpse at your feelings never stopped eating at you. From that day on you sent your family the most basic and vague letters, just stating that you’re in good health and mind, still missing them and Snezhnaya, leaving the ones with more private sentiments in your room. 

Her eyes are completely obscured by the mask, but even with that you can’t miss the pointed glare she sends your way - Tartaglia never shied away from showing off, be it his strength, money or his twisted obsession that he calls love. With the amount of time and finances he spends on you and the way he acts like a kicked lovesick puppy in your vicinity, you are pretty sure that at least half of the bank workers see you as a cunning and cruel seducer, so keen and devious in the art of temptation that you managed to lure in Eleventh Harbinger.

As if archons decided to laugh at you, Childe descends from the second floor too, catching the sight of you near the receptionist. He looks unusually somber for a moment, but then he sees you, a smile appearing on his face as he takes the form from Ekaterina's hands. You can just feel how Ekaterina rolls her eyes under the mask, as if muttering complaints about the lovers’ spat and insubordination, having been working with her for some time, enough to have a clue of the inner workings of her mind.

You have to give him that he plays the confusion and regret very persuasively. He asks how he can fix this, says what a valuable team member you are to him and how much you are needed in the Northland bank. You agree to his suggestion - if years of training with Ajax and then work with Childe taught you anything, it is that Ajax is the chaos incarnate and Tartaglia is Ajax’s less tolerable and more unpredictable version, so it’s better not to anger him.

***

In the end he invites you to dine with him at Wanmin restaurant, a place Childe heard from some “xiansheng” as he called them. A bustling Liyue street is open before you two, tall midday sun painting the whole street into bright orange, so unlike the pristine white landscapes of Snezhnaya. He orders two Black Back Perch Stews on the chef's recommendations, and hands a bouquet of local flowers in a parody of a normal boyfriend. Any random observer would really see it as a date.

You take the flowers, pretending to pay more attention to  them than to a man sitting near you. Tartaglia is an unpredictability wrapped in human skin, there’s no privilege as being lax and carefree near him, as even Tsaritsa has no idea what he will do next. 

To your mutual confusion Xiangling presents the meal with two pairs of chopsticks. Utensils feel foreign in your palm, you having no idea how to handle them and Childe, by the looks of it too. Tartaglia specifically asks the chef for spoons, while you observe the other clients, noting how they use theirs. Holding one stick like a pen and then placing the bottom one in a fixed position under the thumb you manage to grasp the fish from the soup, albeit clumsily. You consider it a small win. 

The image of a mighty Harbinger struggling in a failing battle with chopsticks would look funny to you, if it wasn’t for the whole "date" you were having. After putting them aside, and seemingly admitting defeat, Childe starts from afar: "You know [First], you changed a lot since I first met you" .

You raise an eyebrow at the starter, it's vague and innocent enough, but experience tells you that he will or at least try to stir the conversation into your relationship with him again. Straightening a bit and finally turning your eyes to him, you pause for a second, picking the least offensive reply you can muster - there’s a swarm of insults buzzing at the tip of your tongue prepared just for him, growing and sprouting since your pubescent years.

“Yes, I got taller”, he laughs it off, like you said some funny joke, his giggles not stopping for some time. "No, I mean as a person. Remember how you used to glare at me for joking? And now you act so unfazed ”

Joking. Is this what he calls it? Shivers creep up your spine when your memory oh so conveniently conjures the images of the aftermath of his jokes.

“Your jokes weren’t funny to anyone but you”. Breathe, you think, there’s no need to anger him. There are pictures of broken bones and bruised bodies and a cacophony of somebody else’s pained screams flashing and rattling in your head, Adults never did anything. Why would they? They had a golden boy Ajax, why would they help the others when they had him? Why would they help you? Bitterness and anger you thought you swallowed long ago rise up to the surface again, and you decide to bite down on the stew - Tartaglia always found a way to turn your words against you and hurt you, no need to give him more weapons now.

“I changed a lot too. I know I was insufferable as a teen”, he must have taken your silence as a free pass to continue whatever nonsense he’s sprouting, “I am sorry”.

The last three words catch you off guard, a piece of fish almost stuck in the throat from the jolt. Ajax takes you by surprise once again, for him to finally acknowledge and apologize for all the pain he caused and years he tormented you?

You blink and look at him intently, his facial expression changing into an unusually somber one. It seems authentic enough.

“Let’s start from the scratch?

You contemplate unsure what to say.

Was he lying?

Looking back, you in a sense are luckier than most of Childe's victims, witnessing his youth, familiarizing and distinguishing the tells of him lying and scheming, observing the way he bloomed into the manipulator he is today firsthand. You see a familiarity in his face and voice, something that helps you from falling to his charms. There's also the added fact that you were and still are an involuntary witness to the way how carnal and bloodthirsty usually friendly Ajax can become. 

When did you catch his attention?

You remember his smile when he first approached you, less teeth and more sincerity that is thereafter,a hand outstretched to you. It happens on the next day after his arrival, almost as cold and unpleasant as the previous one. You brush the limb away like a noisy fly, secretly angry at his arrogant attitude and how effortlessly he endured training. His smiling doesn’t stop, yet you feel a sudden change in the air around you.

Would your fate be different if you took his hand?

You can't forget how your mind disconnected from your body for the second time. It was Ajax again vying for your attention akin to a spoiled child, and like one he threw a tantrum when you refused to give him any. The poor recruit you were talking with was hospitalized the same day, as you helplessly watched the carnage before you. You didn't fight, you didn’t flee, you just froze, like a scared animal, paralyzed by fear, yet somehow too detached from feelings. That day was bizarre: once you felt reality, it was solid and undeniable and then you didn't. The realness of the current diffused, slipped through the fingers like sand, leaving nothing but unreliable and delusive reveries behind.

Will he let you go? 

“People do change and I see that you changed too. I don’t think of you as a teen you were” you carefully pick the words, Tartaglia visibly blooms, thinking that his apology worked, yet your next words snuff out his triumph: “but my memories stay the same. I don’t think we can start from scratch”

You bite the tongue, the second part still coming out too harsh for your liking. The moment of sincerity is interrupted, you see him, changing the masks, unsure what to do. It seems for the first time it was you who caught him off guard. You guess which one of the two standard facades he will decide to show to you, having spent years by his side to observe him masterfully wielding both, the friendly one with a vacant smile that never reaches his dead, dead eyes or the calculating one, distant and devoid of humanity?

In the end he uses none, a hurt still evident, dripping in his tone, face and moves - is it another mask you never got to see or is it real? - “So that is your answer”, he leans in closer, dull cerulean eyes looking right into yours.

You hold his stare, nodding, instead of saying anything and he hums, sitting back and wearing the cold mask, reserved for his enemies: “Just wanted to remind you that I am the Harbinger and you are just a position higher than an ordinary agent”. Despite seeing it so many times, it’s the first time he directs it at you and you have to suppress the shiver. The unsaid threat hangs heavy in the air, suffocating you.

You two are no longer solemn [First] and annoying Ajax, who trails your steps behind like a puppy, no, you are a special agent [Last] and Eleventh Fatui Harbinger Tartaglia, to whom you are personally assigned by Tsaritsa herself. Even possessing vision and delusion yourself you can’t match Childe’s power, and your loss would be easy to overlook if your harbinger wished for it. Honestly speaking, there are a lot of things he could do to you without anyone questioning it, the Harbingers being the second most powerful figures in the organization, right after Tsaritsa herself. You heard the stories of Krupp and other assistants who got missing under Il Dottore, you heard of horrible accidents happening to the people Scaramouche dislikes, you heard about the injuries Signora inflicts on the unfortunate recruits when she is in foul mood, yet you never thought that Tartaglia will abuse his power in the same way.

“Don’t worry” he seems to have taken mercy on you, “I won’t use my position like that, it’s cheating and I like to play the fair game”, despite the seemingly reassuring words , you don’t let yourself relax, knowing him for years.

“Don’t think I will back down though, I am not the type to give up”

[flecks-of-stardust]

hey, i was looking through your bug fables liveblog playthrough, and i had tried my hardest to figure this out for a good while but i have a question;

what is the explanation behind the leafbug portrayals in the game being racist? i’ve tried to figure it out for the sake of awareness, but i couldn’t find any sources. don’t feel obligated to explain if you don’t want to, feel free to delete this ask for your comfort.

its racist but possibly a better way to put it is that it plays into a lot of anti-indigenous tropes. for the record, i am not indigenous, so my insight on this front may be somewhat limited, but ill explain as best as i can.

the first time you hear of the leafbug tribe is when youre going into an area that is, directly stated or otherwise, not part of bugaria. theyre Outsiders that do not understand the culture of bugarian bugs. they also have their own language that is 'gibberish' that, funnily enough (/s), no one ever attempts to understand. this sort of othering is already a red flag, because its not portrayed in good faith. add that to the fact that you have to fight them for... no real reason in the game, and its really not painting a good picture.

im pretty sure the leafbug tribe is also explicitly described as primitive, somewhere? which is a very common and egregious anti-indigenous sentiment. theyre different, theyre not knowledgeable in science or whatever the fuck, they have their own brutal customs, theyre just unintelligent beasts that are obstacles in our path, and to get through we just have to kill them. do you see any parallels here?

one of my biggest issues with how the leafbug tribe is portrayed is that, again, there is never any attempt on any of the bugarian characters' part to properly communicate with them. for gameplay reasons they're 'just enemies,' sure, but why? why did the devs make the choice to paint a whole enemy tribe in this light? and also, why does the leafbug tribe have to fight the protagonists anyway? even if they're protecting their territory, why would they feel the need to protect it if they didnt have outsiders who never explain what theyre doing here traipsing on their lands?

one of the worst instances for me would be the team maki side quest where yin becomes an adult moth. maybe im just confused at where exactly the leafbugs live, but that section of the map is in the far grasslands, in wasp kingdom territory. the swamplands are connected to the grasslands, but the specific area yin metamorphoses in is not near it? but then surprise! you have to fight the leafbug tribe! because... idk, theyre convenient antagonists. shrug, its a video game. except its really not just a video game.

fundamentally, the portrayal of the leafbug tribe plays into a lot of anti-indigenous tropes, and everything about them is done in bad faith. the writing of bug fables already has other flaws, and there is another instance of racism in the bug fables universe—cough cough, elizant the second with ladybugs—and also given what ive heard of the devs im just. very wary, and very tired. to be fair i dont think they intended to native code the leafbug tribe, but these sorts of biases are very ingrained in popular culture and media, and just because its common doesnt make it less hurtful. especially not when its this blatant.

im not sure how clear this explanation and analysis is, but its as good as i can muster. other folks with more personal experience/knowledge may be able to contribute more. either way, i resent how the leafbug tribe was depicted.

[bubbelpop2]

Oooooo [Phone] with Gross!Spammy

i got so many asks for phone sex with gross. unsurprising, and yet still definitely pleasing. so i made a fic.

voice headcanon for your imagination: usually nasally, unstable. cracks and stutters often, a lot like teddy hyde, jack stauber, or lemon demon's sort of unstable singing- but occasionally slips into a soft, masculine and entirely human voice, and then other times he has a reverberating snarling voice that sounds booming; laced with unintelligible gibberish in the background that vibrates in your head and chest and makes your brain hurt

"YOU [Soft, comfortable mattresses], DOLL?" He asks, huffing as he settles down into his chair at home. You know exactly how he's sitting, his legs are so long that the only way he gets comfortable in that chair is by sitting in it sideways, with his legs dangling off the side.

"Yeah," You say, repositioning yourself on the inn bed. "Or as comfortable as I can be, anyways."

A funny thought passes through your mind of him back in his old form in that chair. It'd probably look like he's sitting in a large beanbag. You suppress a huff of laughter, passing it off as a sigh.

"Just.. miss you." You say, flushing. It's not a lie, technically. You do miss him. You needed to stay a ways away from home for work related reasons that you don't really want to think about.

"YEAH? POOR THING, MISSING YOUR OL PAL SPAMTON BY YOUR SIDE. MY HUGS ARE [patented guaranteed to make your day so much easier!] AREN'T THEY?"

You sigh, genuinely this time. You gaze up at the ceiling longingly. "Yeah. Could really use your arms around me right around now."

And something else. Man, you never know how good you have it till it's gone. You could also use that gorgeous tongue of his in you right about now.

"WHY DON'T YOU [Grab Em Now Before They're Gone!] A PILLOW FOR ME?" He asks, and you wait in questioning for him to elaborate. "GIVE IT A GOOD SQUEEZE. PRETEND IT'S ME WITH YOU."

Your face reddens again, and you're glad he's not there to see it. He always gets this overly smug look.

You obey, hugging a pillow to your chest. He hears your shuffling around, and assumes as much.

"THERE.. ISN'T THAT NICE?"

You hum the affirmative, burying your face in it, but keeping the phone to your ear. You mumble into it.

"HM? WHAT WAS THAT?" he asks.

"Your hugs are always nice, Spam." You say, shifting your thighs together. "Ha.. but, uh.. what i could really use right now is your mouth on me."

"... oh." He says, softly, and smugly. You can practically hear his grin widening as he shuffles again into another, more comfortable position.

"[Need a pick-me-up?], DOLL?"

You laugh airily, "Hah- yeah, uh," You squeeze your thigh. "That would be great." You can't hide the way your voice warbles as you answer.

Spamton snarls a laugh, deep and glitchy. You feel a heavy, sinking sensation in your chest, making its way down into your abdomen and sitting there. You whimper, and he growls in satisfaction at the sound.

"STRIP." He orders.

[sketchingtons]

On a happier note, I planned out a whole alternate ending to the Timber date night if the chaos monster hadn’t shown up!

It got kind of long, so more under the cut!

It goes great! Tim and Bernard talk, catch up on each other’s lives, eat a delicious dinner, and order a couple of desserts to share because everything sounded delicious and they were indecisive-the restaurants deserts are to die for according to Bernard, and Tim doesn’t mind splurging a bit. Tim pays for it all, despite Bernard’s protests that he’d been joking earlier and trying to pay for his half, and Tim offers to take/walk Bernard home. (Because he’s not ready for the night to end just yet)

Now we have a couple different cute options here since we don’t actually know how each of them got to the restaurant (public transport? Walking? Driving? Did Tim grapple there??)-one is that Tim physically walks Bernard home (since I feel like you don’t really walk alone at night in Gotham, always in pairs or groups 👏) , with them maybe taking some public transit-allowing them to talk a bit more and enjoy each others company (their shoulders brushing as they walk, maybe their hands too? and maybe some yearning for hand holding?? I eat that stuff up ok, it would be really cute 🥺)

The other option I thought of was that Tim took his motorcycle to the restaurant and offers Bernard a ride home on that-which also opens some great options for all the fluffy feelings that riding on a motorcycle with your crush can create ✨ I think when Tim offers Bernard a ride home, Bernard thinks he’s talking about a car-and when he sees Tim’s motorcycle he’s like?? Wtf you ride a motorcycle?? And thinks it’s awesome and fawns over how cool the bike is lol (“still defying categorization, huh Drake?”) and then Tim is of course very flustered when Bernard holds onto him on the ride 👀 less taking in this option but! More introspection on Tim’s part about his feelings on Bernard so that would also be very good 👌

Anyway, they make it back to Bernard’s place and Tim walks him to the door. Bernard says he had a great time, and “can we meet up again soon? I’ve really missed you, man.” And Tim is like! “Yeah! of course!! I’ve really missed you too, we should definitely do something soon!” And they’re both just kind of looking at each other and smiling, the energy feeling charged and suspended at the same time. And riffing off what I talked about in my post here, Tim has had the inkling of an idea to kiss Bernard before the night is over, and this seems like the perfect time right? So he grabs him by the shoulders, determined and nervous, and leans in…but Tim’s big beautiful brain is always running at 100mph so he’s struggling with the execution here, but it’s ok! Because Bernard grabs his jacket and helps with the follow through 💕

So they kiss, and Tim’s higher brain functions kind of cease at this point akshsj but it’s fine because despite how suave and cool Bernard tries to act, he’s also struggling to function after that kiss (“…and you’re a good kisser?? Is there anything you’re bad at Tim, cause you’re gunna give me a complex at this point”) and so they kind of just stare at each other like love sick idiots until Bernard is like “so we’re definitely doing this again right?” And Tim manages an “uh…yeah…again is good” in response, which is probably all he’s able to produce at this point lol

Bernard quirks a smile and gives Tim’s cheek a quick peck before stepping away and unlocking his door to head inside, telling Tim to call him as he heads in, very “cool guy” like-Tim responds with probably unintelligible gibberish and a wave as his brain continues to reboot. Tim makes it about to the end of the sidewalk in a daze before everything catches up with him, at which point he lets out another string of unintelligible noise, covers his face, and crouches on the sidewalk with a giant smile on his face. And, unbeknownst to him, after Bernard made his “cool” exit while telling Tim to call him, he fist pumps the air and did a little victory dance in the entry way of his apartment before also collapsing onto the floor with a giant smile.

Long story short, they’re idiot boys in love and I crave seeing them act like awkward lovesick disasters about each other 🥺

[tundrainafrica]

Title: Copycat

Summary:  

""Shitty four eyes and clean freak? Would you know what those words mean?" The teacher asked.

Hange and Levi exchanged knowing glances. A parent teacher conference wasn't at all the right place to explain nicknames. Really though, when would it ever be the appropriate time to explain them?"

Levi and Hange learn the hard way that children like to imitate.

Link: AO3

Notes: This has been on my WIPs for a while and I have a few other prompts for domestic verse pieces so will probably focus on them first hehe. Anyway, feedback is very much appreciated!

“Levi Ackerman and Hange Zoe…”

The teacher was looking through what could have been the class list. No, it definitely was a class list. They were in a parent teacher meeting, what else could it be.

With the way she was holding it though, it was difficult for Levi to sneak a peek at its contents. Eventually, he gave up and let his mind wander, his eyes soon followed. He spared a glance at Hange to see she had cocked her head just a little bit to the side. She was definitely as curious if not more curious about the contents of the piles of paper.

The teacher, Ms. Wilde had a smile on her face and it had been that way since Luke had started school. Her expression then wasn't too far from her usual smile but her eyes were too wide, her mouth too flat of a line especially when she bit her lips. And when she ran her eyes over documents, she seemed…. Stiff.

Uncomfortable? DIsturbed maybe? Levi was expecting the worst.

“Commander Hange Zoe and Retired Captain Levi Ackerman…” Ms. Wilde corrected, clearing her throat.

“No need for any formalities. I mean you have been taking care of our son…” Hange held one hand out for a hand shake, obviously trying to ease the tension in the room.

“Yes, he’s a pleasant kid,” Ms. Wilde added, nodding her head. The discomfort on her face still did not waver.

He is a pleasant kid. Levi was with that kid 24/7. He brought the kid to school and back home, he cooked breakfast, lunch and dinner and he taught him all chores possible at the ripe age of two. Levi was almost certain that along with it, he had taught the kid basic manners.

Levi had to admit though, he himself wasn’t the most diplomatic either. The kid though was glaringly much nicer than Levi was and on top of that, he had picked up some of his other quirks from Hange. The boy didn’t have to be exceptional though. At the least, Luke should have been a functioning member of the kindergarten.

Not enough to make a teacher squirm as she spoke about him. Right?

Most days… And as Levi reflected on it, he started to dig deeper into the past few years, the almost negligible cracks in between their routine. Was there anything he failed to teach Luke? Hange could have been asking the same thing, she looked at Levi questioningly.

Ms. Wilde cleared her throat and in her own way, she had broken some of the residual tension. “Apologies… I’ve been stalling.” She turned to Hange. “Commander Zoe…”

“Retired… Commander Zoe,” Hange corrected.

Was Hange stalling? Or just deliberately looking for a way to alleviate whatever tension had blanketed the room. Hange’s own corrections though were only delaying the inevitable, stretching the tension for longer than necessary.

“I wanted to talk to you about your son," Ms. Wilde started.

No shit. “Go on….” Levi said softly, not loud enough for her maybe. He subtly moved his hands in some signal to continue, as if that could have been communication enough.

Ms. Wilde stared for a bit longer and when Levi squinted, focusing on the paper underneath, he could tell it was a drawing, the crayon ink, visible from just behind the paper. She then put that same crayon art on the top of that stack of papers. “Shitty four eyes… and Clean freak?”

The words sounded strange from anybody else’s mouth, particularly a teacher who had attempted to say it with so professional of a tone and with emphasis on syllables and on words which made it sound unintelligible to anyone less familiar.

“Excuse me?” Hange asked. She had said those words a little too fast. With Levi thinking the same thing though, it had sounded clear enough.

Ms. Wilde flipped the paper open and down on the table.

There were two stick drawings, one with glasses and brown hair, definitely Hange and one with an apron and a bandana over his head and an unimpressed look on his face. That second one was definitely Levi.

Just below it, a caption which Levi had to squint twice to read

Shut tea for ice clean freek. It was straight out gibberish.

Ms. Wilde preempted it. “Would you know what this means?” She looked back up at them expectantly. “Your son… he tried to explain it to me and he said, you two would say… Shut tea for ice and clean freek.” She had said it with unexpected emphasis on some syllables and it was starting to sound like a glaringly familiar cluster of phrases.

Enough for Levi to freeze in his seat and start to dig for some sense in his speculations.

“Don’t get me wrong… Your child being able to spell at this age… It’s admirable, remarkable really,” Ms. Wilde continued. Was she consoling them or admiring them? With that soft and gentle of a voice, it was difficult to tell.

If Levi hadn’t been too busy trying to make sense of that last phrase maybe he would have at least attempted to read through her body language. The teacher had already presented a problem though and naturally, he found himself attempting to get to the bottom of that initial issue.

Luke had Hange’s brain. With Levi on top of that child most of the day, he was perfectly aware of what Luke would usually be playing with. He had gifted Luke letter tiles and had played with him multiple times, at Hange's suggestion of 'something more educational.'

He could have sworn the other times Hange had gotten off work and had played with those tiles with him before dinner, she had been teaching him herself. Although, some words were strange and unfamiliar, she never thought him any of those words. Never.

Levi looked back up at the teacher, forcing himself to meet her eyes. What was the best thing to say?

These are our nicknames. Nope. Should they be divulging something so personal in a professional meeting?

Maybe he could break that awkwardness by complimenting Luke’s work. For a three year old, Luke did a good job with the coloring. Or maybe Levi was just hyperaware about his dad status and somehow everything their little human made seemed almost surreal, almost beautiful even if it was just a bunch of stick figures.

Hange held the drawing between her fingers, her eyes wide with what looked to be the same wonder Levi was holding in. “We’ve been teaching him how to read,” Hange said. “Read and write.”

“But, would you know what ‘shut tea for ice’ means?” The teacher asked.

“Levi here… He really likes tea,” Hange said calmly. “And he likes it with ice.”

“What about clean freak?”

“He cleans with me a lot…” Levi said.

The teacher sighed. “Apologies for the misunderstanding but those words…” She leaned over, cupping her mouth, to soften to a whisper just for the three of them. “It sounds pretty vulgar to me. If you could talk to your son about it, so he could stop calling the other kids names… That would be very much appreciated.”

“Wait, our son, he’s calling people names?”

The teacher shrugged. “I heard him talking to one of the kids just recently… He kept calling her ‘shut tea for eyes.’ and just the other day, when we were cleaning up the locker… then he called her a cleen freek.” She sighed. “It might be just my imagination but it sounds to me like bullying if you know what I mean?”

“Bullying? How?” Hange asked. The knowing look in her face betrayed such a question.

“Well you see, Sarah wears glasses and she likes keeping her cubbyhole neat so… I can’t help but think he might actually be saying….”

“Shitty four eyes?” Levi repeated it again, with a familiar manner, all the emphasis on the right tones. He could almost taste the sweet venom that laced it every other time he said it before.

“And clean freak?” Hange repeated.

The teacher put her hands up in defense. “But that might just be my wild imagination. If ‘shut tea for ice’ is really code in your family, maybe you could spend some time explaining to your son what it actually sounds like?”

***

Shut tea for ice.

Levi could have been in denial. The first plan of action as soon as he got home was to open and close the cupboard a few times over and stare at the box of tea bags every single time. He was deep in thought, still trying to come up with any other reason for those words to roll so easily out of his son’s mouth.

“You want me to make dinner?” Hange called out from the living room.

Levi instinctively turned behind him and towards the voice, craning his neck to look past the kitchen counter. Hange was sitting cross legged on the floor, a toddler Luke right next to her.

The letter tiles Hange had scattered on the floor were an eye sore.

An eyesore which Levi tolerated. After all, Hange had done amazingly at making Luke one of the smarter toddlers in his class.

Experiment… Titan… Omnivore...Carnivore… Whether the child needed to know how to spell those words at that young of an age, Levi wasn’t too certain. At least if ever the classes shifted to topics on history or science, Luke would have the upper hand.

Or so, that was what Levi consoled himself with as he looked back at the cupboard, trying to erase that picture of a mess in the living room. His own experiences with playing with those blocks had been teaching Luke words like clean, broom, breakfast, lunch, dinner. For a second, he wondered which Luke enjoyed more.

“I’ll make it,” Levi said. “You’re at work most days. I’d rather you spent your free time bonding with Luke.”

Hange didn’t respond and the next few minutes passed with the clacking of the wooden letter tiles on the floor. And then an exchange which Levi felt almost compelled to insert himself in.

“When the creature eats both vegetables and meat…” Hange started.

“Omnivore,” Luke answered.

“And meat only?”

“Carnivore.” He had learned to repeat those words clearly very quickly. Levi had to note as he tipped the tea, Luke had always learned to pronounce the more complex words within a few repeats.

The inquisitiveness and the natural genius came from Hange for sure. And Hange was only nurturing them. Soon, the conversation shifted to animals, and then to titans and why the fuck was she talking about her goddamn experiments?

Even when half listening, Levi never understood what the hell that one experiment after capturing the titan and burning through its hair actually did but Hange was suddenly talking about follicles, roots and some catalytic reaction.

Would Luke know what a catalytic reaction is? Levi attempted to answer it for himself by first asking, what the hell a catalytic reaction was. Whatever slate that had appeared in his mind remained blank and he asked another question. Should a child really be learning those words?

“And you know what a dinosaur looks like?” Hange asked.

“Dinosaur!”

A rustle of papers. Hange muttered something about a pencil.

Found one! Then the sound of scribbling on paper.

Levi was only starting to boil the soup, when whatever conversation on whether dinosaurs were omnivores or carnivores slipped one ear and out the other.

The padding of socks on the carpeted floor, Hange’s hums and just Luke’s high pitched voice lisping at some words, saying lines which could have started with Rs or Ws were faint and Levi found himself passing the time just listening to them as he stirred the soup.

He bent over, pulling out the tray of baked chicken from the oven. “Hange,” he called out.

Hange took a second longer than necessary to respond. “Hm?”

“Set the table,” Levi said. “It’s almost dinner time.”

No response. No clicking of plates, no slamming of utensils on the table.

“Hange?” Levi asked.

“Wait, just this last page,’ Hange said louder.

Levi closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Hange was murmuring, words Levi couldn’t make sense of. And the lisping words, the mispronounced Rs and Ws and garbled syllables were telling. Luke was reading something out loud.

“That’s right! So, the plants eat through photosynthesis," Hange said.

“Hange, set the table,” Levi said.

Hange sighed in response. There were footsteps then the clack of plates.

Levi soon confirmed for himself that Hange had stood up, tiptoed and pulled a serving plate and a bowl from the upper cupboard. He transferred the roast chicken and the soup onto the plates. While it cooled, he took the bread basket and dropped it on the table, raising one eye at the view in front of him.

“Hange,” Levi said, louder this time.

Hange was back in the living room, cross legged once again, an open picture book in front of her. Luke had shifted to half lying down position, stomach down on the floor, propped up by the elbows.

“Are dinosaurs real?” Lukei asked.

Hange nodded. “They were alive a long time ago,” she said.

“Hey, you two. I said, let’s eat.” Levi found himself looking away as he noticed Luke’s mouth twist into a pout.

Hange sighed in disappointment. “Alright Luke, let’s stand up.” She carefully pulled her son up and guided him back to the table. She moved sluggishly towards the dining room table and it looked very much like Levi had virtually twisted her arm just to get her up.

To make things clear though, he didn’t. There were more pressing things at that moment than making sure the food he worked so hard on was eaten. Levi stared at them then back at the scattered letter tiles on the floor. Then back at Hange again.

The years might have just made it easier for Hange to pick up the silent question just with a few glances. “We’re gonna go back after we eat,” she answered,

“And you’re fine leaving a mess like that there,” Levi said. “What if someone trips on that?”

“Well, we won’t. Luke and I know that it’s there and you can just watch where you’re going right?”

“It’s still a hazard,” Levi argued.

“A negligible hazard.”

“Can’t you just clean it up then bring it out again later?”

“It takes time,” Hange answered nonchalantly as she walked past Levi.

For a retired commander with a full-time job rebuilding Paradis, time felt like a luxury more than disposable income did and Levi had only ever silently acknowledged that. The moment he looked back, he realized there wasn’t much he could have argued about. Hange guided Luke to his chair, and she started to pour the soup into his bowl.

Levi sat next to Hange and served Hange first then himself, a pressing distraction, long enough for Levi to need not look back at the mess on the floor.

“Luke, chickens look a little bit like dinosaurs,” Hange said.

Levi rolled his eyes. Most of their meals usually ended up as a science lesson.

Luke seemed to be enjoying it though. He clapped his hands excitedly. “We’re eating dinosaurs?”

In response to that, Levi shoveled more of the soup into his mouth, enough to give any excuse not to speak up. That wasn’t his conversation. It was Hange’s and Luke’s.

“Technically yes,” Hange said.

What the fuck is she researching this time? Hange did too many jobs at once that Levi never could catch up to her theory or vernacular wise.

“Like the book! The dinosaur looked like the book!” Luke said excitedly.

“Yes! You remember!” Hange mirrored that same excitement.

“Are dinosaurs like titans?”

“Technically no… They can be the same size... “

“Are titans omnivores?”

Hange hummed. She dropped her spoon and put one finger to her chin, a very climactic sequence of motions that could have meant she had something interesting to say. To the disappointment of everyone in the family, she returned the question with one word. “Maybe.”

They don’t eat. Levi added to himself silently.

“Do titans poo?” Luke pressed.

Hange opened her mouth to speak. “They don’t…”

And Levi only had a split second to note the glimmer in her eyes, then the wonder that could have come from reminiscing nights worth of experiments. Then the familiar excitement and passion he had seen so many times before in the barracks over tea.

Oh no. He looked back at the soup, a mixture of beans and tomatoes, the green of the vegetables sticking out at very strategic places.

What the fuck.

And Hange’s tirade only continued, and naturally Levi’s mind made sense of the words having had too many direct experiences with titans to last a lifetime. If he looked at his own soup from the right angle, with the right vegetable bits in the right places and the right lighting from just above them, he realized it looked just like vomit.

He was in a frustrating position, hungry but with no more appetite. He pushed himself up. “You two just keep talking. I’m gonna clean up.”

Hange stood up. “Wait, Levi where you going?”

Everything was just suddenly pissing Levi off at that moment. “I’m cleaning up your fucking mess.”

“That’s not a mess!” Hange retorted, an incredulous look on her face.

“I told you, just bring it out after if you wanna play again!” Levi bent over, and started to mix the blocks amongst one another. Words like carnivore, omnivore, photosynthesis, follicle suddenly mixed among one another. The tiles were suddenly gibberish, letter soup. And the more he mixed, the worse it became.

It became easier to put them into the basket.

“We were planning to go back to it after dinner. You didn’t have to clean it up,” Hange chided.

“Well, you two might step on it,” Levi said.

“Really?” Hange raised one eyebrow. “You can’t watch where you’re going?”

“Listen Hange, I’m the one who cleans this house ninety percent--- hell, a hundred percent of the time. I decide what messes we can leave around.”

“Well, it takes a kid a while to pick up the words, we were supposed to practice reading.”

“Hange a three year old does not need to know what photosynthesis means.”

“Three and a half,” Hange clarified. “A child his age does not need to live in an immaculate environment.” Clean. Hange definitely meant clean. The way she had said the word ‘immaculate,' the fact that she had chosen such a heavenly word, an almost self righteous sounding word felt almost mocking. “Why do you have to be such a clean freak about this?”

“Why do you have to be such a nerd about this. He’ll learn how to read big words at his own fucking time,” Levi said. He noted the way Hange had put one hand to her chest, seeming scandalized at whatever insinuation Levi had brought up.

When he was dealing with the someone who couldn’t bat an eye at hygiene and clutter, who suddenly thought the pursuit of knowledge was a must have for a poor four year old, Levi wasn’t feeling too guilty at offending her, at least not too much. He opened his mouth, only intending to let it out as a release born from quiet anger. And during moments of heightened emotions, sometimes he lost a little control, and sometimes, he’d fall back to very familiar habits.

Shitty four eyes.

Hange could have heard it, but they had said it so many times before, that she didn’t open her mouth to speak. He couldn’t be too sure either that he had said it out loud.

“Daddy? You want tea with ice?”

Levi only realized then, when the silence broke and a young Luke went in between them a mug in hand.

No hot water, no tea bag. A look of confusion on Luke’s face. ‘Daddy, shut tea for ice?” The words were stilted, the syllables garbled against one another.

Levi and Hange had both looked at Luke with the same surprised look, surprised but very very understanding of the current situation.

***

Shitty four eyes.

Luke didn’t have a potty mouth. Or at least, he wasn’t supposed to.

Levi was with Luke the most among everyone. The heavy responsibility of 'main provider' on his back, he found himself thinking back to every single ‘alone time,’ the two of them had since Luke had been old enough to talk. It had been a year at least since Luke had started to seem more like a companion than a responsibility. When Levi looked back at it though, he thought the moments to be countless and consequently, he had found it difficult to point out the exact point in time where Luke had thought it a good idea to blurt out the words ‘shitty four eyes.’

Coming up with no conclusion, he desperately grasped for a glimmer of an explanation. “Luke’s a nice kid, he wouldn’t call people names,”

“I don’t doubt that,” Hange responded, seeming not at all bothered by the chain of events.

“Hey, we’re still gonna have to explain that to Luke?”

“You tried a while ago, right?” Hange asked “What did Luke say?”

“He just kept repeating it… Shut tea for ice. Shut tea for ice.” Levi whispered in response, letting it get softer and softer on his tongue. It had been just an hour before they had put their son to bed. The conference, the incident just a while ago suddenly had self conscious about how loud they were talking and how close the bedroom door was to the living room. He turned to the sofa and sat a few more feet away from the door, as if that could have done anything to make their conversation more private.

“So Levi, what do you think that means?” Hange asked. She had moved next to him, as if she understood Levi’s intention with switching seats.

“He didn’t seem hostile,” Levi said.

“So he doesn’t think what he’s saying is bad right?”

“He called you shitty four eyes too.” Levi turned to Hange.

“And shitty four eyes has never been an insult to me. You’ve been calling him that since before,” Hange said.

“So what do you suggest?” Levi asked.

Hange was in deep thought for a second, one hand to her chin. She turned to the phone on the kitchen counter. “Calling someone more experienced maybe.”

***

Historia had a child, a good few years past the terrible twos and threes. Naturally, she seemed almost nonchalant about that problem.

“Imitation,” Hange said so confidently, yet so abruptly that morning as she sipped her coffee. She turned to Levi and grinned in the same exact way she would have dropped a research-backed theory many years ago when she was still a titan researcher.

“Titans used to imitate right?” Levi said. Mentioning the magic word ‘titans’ could be enough to pull any good ideas out of her.

“Yes, I know,” Hange said matter-of-factly. “And titans and humans are a little different… It would be easier to have a peaceful conversation with titans. Luke understands me almost perfectly. And you too. I think we can talk to him first about why using nicknames is bad.”

“You think a three year old can understand a convoluted explanation by Hange Zoe?”

“Three and a half,” Hange clarified again. If he can tell omnivores and carnivores apart, I’m sure he can tell the difference between calling people names and respecting people right?” She propped her mug on the dining room table and looked expectantly at Levi.

Levi averted his gaze. “Hange, do you think a three and a half year old will get it?” He dropped the tea bag into the mug and watched as the darker liquid consumed the water, touching the rims of the mug. He walked back to the dining table, settling himself on the chair right in front of Hange.

Hange chuckled. “Worth a try right?”

“Daddy! Shoes!” Luke was painfully demanding. And of all moments, it had been then that Levi noticed that Luke had picked up some of their attitude.

Right. Although Luke could easily get ready for school himself, tying shoes was still something Levi had been in the process of teaching him. “I’ll just help him tie his shoes first.”

“I’ll go ahead.” Hange gulped the last few drops of coffee. “Gonna be late for work. You think you can handle this?”

“Talk to Luke right?” Levi asked. “About the importance of respect?” He had put emphasis on those last three words, as if to hint to Hange that introducing such an abstract idea to a three year old seemed like not so good of an idea.

“Worth a try right?” Hange responded as she stood up and slung her back over her shoulder.

“And if it doesn’t work?” Levi pressed.

By then, Hange was already closer to the door than the dining table, far from hearing range of Levi’s naturally soft voice. Levi felt it pointless to say it louder, especially since by then, Hange had already slammed the door behind her.

And he had bigger fish to deal with, like a frustrated son, who had knotted the laces of his shoes enough times that Levi struggled to find the tips. “Luke… Why… Did you do it like this?” Levi had to resist the sweet temptation of inserting a ‘fuck’ somewhere on that question. After all, it wasn’t Luke’s fault he was just a three year old who was still learning the ropes.

The process of unknotting a very tight knot though was painful, frustrating enough for Levi to sit down crosslegged in front of his son. It was taking longer than a few seconds, enough to have a conversation.

“Luke… The school told me about ‘shut tea for ice’”Levi started and when he started to pull at the top most knot, he felt some sort of release with it, some extra reserves of patience he could easily tap at.

“Shitty four eyes! Clean Freak!” Luke responded happily.

When Levi looked up and met his son’s eyes, he couldn’t help but be somewhat bothered by the knowing and confident look. “You shouldn’t call people names Luke.” He put one finger right in front of Luke’s face.

Was that how to tell a kid off? Levi had been working with Luke long enough though to know, Luke didn’t understand what he was saying. Or maybe he didn’t understand what Levi meant.

What would Hange say? When Levi reflected on that though, the only thing he could salvage were her rants on photosynthesis and titan experiments. If their son understood those, he should understand a lecture on respect right?

“No.” One word Levi had learned as a parent. “No calling people names,” he added, his voice softer that time.

Luke pouted.

Levi had a soft spot for his son’s pout and consequently, he did what any sane parent would have done in that situation. He stared at the clock. Fifteen minutes before class starts. He stood up and took his son by the hand. “Come on Luke, let’s go to school.”

On the way to school, he allowed himself another session for self reflection. Imitation huh? Levi thought to himself. He had to admit, he may have called Hange ‘shitty four eyes’ more often than not and in return, he may have brushed off a few ‘clean freaks’ from Hange as well.

They could try to wean Luke out of it right or at least find out why Luke had been using it at school? He could leave that to Hange though, and maybe consult a bit with their teacher.

Levi took a deep breath, a loud one, particularly when they passed through one of the less saturated parts of town on the way to school. He was sure he had enough reserves at his already scarce social battery to deal with asking advice from teachers.

***

Same advice as Historia.

Children were master imitators. And whether a three year old (or a three and a half year old according to Hange) would understand such an abstract concept as respect, that was one thing they weren’t sure of.

So when dealing with a toddler, play with their imitator side, not this belief that they might actually understand an abstract concept.

Levi had repeated those same words to Hange. By that evening though, he had forgotten half of it, and he had hoped that was the message she got.

“So, we should change how we talk to each other then…” Hange leaned back on the sofa. “But when do you think Luke heard us say it?”

Levi shrugged. “When do you say it?”

In return, Hange shrugged and let out a short laugh. “To be honest, I don’t remember calling you a clean freak either.”

“When we fight?” Levi suggested.

“Or when we don’t?” Hange put her hands up. “Anyway, the important thing is, he hears us say it. That kid won’t get shitty four eyes or clean freak out of anywhere. So we watch ourselves okay? No using bad words in front of our son.”

“That’s easy.” Levi narrowed his eyes at Hange and sat back on the sofa. “I’ve been doing that ever since Luke was born.”

***

With a little more self-introspection and blatant awareness of his surroundings, Levi started to realize it wasn’t as easy as he had expected it to be. He had stopped himself enough times that his throat had been sore from the many times he concealed his own penchant for vulgarity with a dry cough.

“Luke, make sure to put your bag back in the room,” Levi said from the kitchen as he pulled an apple from the fruit basket. It was just like every other day before, pick Luke up, prepare an afternoon snack. Very routine, very predictable and the only thing that made it a challenge had been the heavy awareness that Levi did curse on a regular basis.

Or maybe just the fact that he had to watch himself, had him very very heavy, as if every move had to be cold and calculated.H e was a little more careful than usual with cutting the apple. And he was terribly terribly slow. By the time, he turned back to the kitchen counter, sliced apples arranged neatly on the plate, Luke had already settled on the seat in front of him, looking expectantly at the plate on Levi’s hands.

How long he had been there? Levi didn’t want to ask. “Are you hungry?” he asked instead.

Luke nodded. It was a stupid question, but at least his son was too young to judge his ineloquence.

He dropped the pile of apples in front of him and made himself comfortable on the seat next to his son. “After this, you wanna play with the tiles?” Levi offered.

But never freak. Levi told himself as even the prospect of teaching his kid was starting to weigh on him.

“Let’s play with the tiles!” Luke clapped one hand on the table, and he shoved one of the apples into his mouth.

“Okay, I’ll bring it out later,” Levi said. He took one apple from the plate and started to munch on it, only interrupted by the sound of the phone ringing a few seconds later.

Most days, the phone ringing was a nuisance, peppered with conversations with salesmen, customer service. Having grown up with a place with no phone, but too many scams, it was only natural that Levi would detect the opportunity for scams in that new fangled piece of technology.

There was one voice which always made the process of using the phone though, bearable, if not pleasurable.

“Levi! What’s for dinner tonight?”

“Four eyes, you’re out from work early.”

There was a pause, a pregnant and awkward pause. Then Hange spoke up. “Is Luke with you?”

The silence and that one question spoke for him. Levi spun around to see Luke, staring right at him. “Four eyes… Shitty...Four eyes?” The young boy repeated. It sounded rehearsed the first time around, then confident the second time.

There was a lot he had to teach the kid.

“Just take out food for dinner. Luke and I will have a long talk,” Levi said.

***

Levi’s mind was a blank slate. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing though.

Whatever he was supposed to say to lecture Luke on proper respect lasted at the most, a few seconds in his muddled brain. It went into one ear and quickly out the other.

Somewhere along the way, Levi had given up. He had mentioned words like ‘respect,’ ‘not nice.’ When he didn’t even believe half of what he had spewing out of his mouth, he ended up unable to blame Luke for wearing such a blank expression.

Would Hange have done a better job at teaching Luke? Maybe.

Levi had never been the most diplomatic person, having sat at the sidelines every time Hange had been negotiating trade contracts and war treaties. Besides, he didn’t believe it completely necessary either to teach children not to curse.

There were bigger fish to fry, like rebuilding a war torn country, eradicating poverty and starvation, income inequality and terrorism.

Having lived like a soldier his whole life, dealing with something so mundane as a teacher’s request to teach his child not to curse, seemed almost mundanely unnecessary.

When his son was insulting other children, when a teacher was telling his son off for it, Levi didn’t necessarily find it horrifying. School rules were school rules though and their new society made compliance for three year olds a big issue. Maybe he could leave that educating to Hange though, and just focus maybe on teaching the young boy how to read.

He rearranged the letters and a few times, he gave free rein to his son to form words himself.

There were easy words like ‘dog,’ ‘cat,’ and ‘cow.’ Although Levi had been surprised that Luke had independently put together more complex words like ‘broom’ and ‘clean,’ he started to accept anyway, that it was only natural that the young boy would know them. After all, Hange had been teaching him more complex words like ‘photosynthesis,’ ‘omnivore’ and ‘carnivore.’

Luke had been spelling all those words on his own while Levi watched silently. And when Levi started to scramble the pieces again, just to watch what his son would create, he started to notice some pattern.

Shut

“Shut!” Luke screamed. He didn’t completely open his mouth though, and it started to sound more like another cursed word. Levi wasn’t going to mention that though.

“Shut…” Levi explained. Like ‘Shut up.’ ‘Shut up’ wasn’t the most diplomatic expression and it was probably better not to teach his son that at such a young age. “Like shut the door,” Levi added a second later. He mimed the act of slamming a door closed, suddenly self conscious of how rude it probably would be to slam a door. Was Luke going to start slamming doors if he made his movements too forceful?

Ice

“Ice!” Luke read aloud.

“Ice…” Levi paused for a second, racking his brain for the best way to explain it without having to go for the refrigerator and risk making a mess on their matted living room floor. “The cold thing…”

Four

“Four!”

“The number,” Technically there were two words ‘four’ and ‘for.’ What do you call those filler words? How do you define the word for? Levi realized then, there were only too many ways he could explain what words like ‘for,’ ‘to,’ were used for. He could just leave that to the school to explain.

Tea

“Tea!”

“Te---”

“Daddy likes tea!” Luke started. His face fell. “Right?”

In shock, Levi didn’t even notice he had frozen still, his hand dropping the tile. He nodded. “Yeah I like tea.” He allowed himself a tight lipped grin as he adjusted the letters just to make his son’s final product a little neater. “I really like tea.”

“Shitty four eyes?” His son said again, his excitable tone from a while ago unwavering.

That’s a bad word. Levi wanted to say. That’s disrespectful. He couldn’t bring himself to say anything else though. After all, his son was a bundle of innocence, a bundle of excitement. Did Luke even know what the hell he had been saying?

Levi was pathetic. He was weakshit. And he couldn’t even bring himself to disciplining his child on something he personally didn’t even believe in. He continued to reflect on it as he rearranged the letters again. Then he further wallowed in whatever guilt settled in him as he stood up and walked towards the kitchen. As he prepared dinner, then washed the dishes.

When Hange came home, he at least had been ready enough to speak. “I think he’s too young to understand,” Levi said.

“Well a three and a half year old would have a hard time understanding abstract ideas right?”

“Says the parent who’s teaching a three year old science.”

Hange pouted. “Science is not an abstract concept.”

“That’s not the point,” Levi said firmly. He knew if he didn’t interrupt Hange there, she probably would have gone on another tirade. “Do you have any ideas? On how to deal with this?”

“I have one,” Hange said. “I was talking to Historia just today, and some other parents…” She propped her chin on the palm of her hand. “Have you considered… Aside from just laying off, the shitty four eyes first? And I’ll lay off the clean freak? I mean, the kids apparently, at this age, they like to imitate and if we just be more careful about what we’re saying and try to say something nicer, more positive as nicknames. He should stop right?”

“We’ve been calling each other for years,” Levi commented.

“But, not in public right?” Hange said. “You never really said it during meetings.”

“Well those were meetings.”

“Think of this as a meeting, except this time, our son is probably listening to us every single time.” She frowned, wrinkled her nose and looked behind her. Just on the other side of the wall was Luke’s bedroom. It was late at night and he probably was asleep.

But with their conversations and Luke's tendency to pick things up, it only proved that the walls may have been too thin and their son may have been very observant.

Levi raised his eyebrows. “So you’re saying…”

Hange nodded. No clean freak. No shitty four eyes. AT ALL. She spelled out those nicknames slowly and carefully, just so their son wouldn't’ pick the words up, taking in the small possibility that he was awake.

Levi sighed. “Fine.” He wasn’t fine. Their home was supposed to be their private space. Luke would be a sponge for information but a stranger to logic and abstract concepts for the next two years.

Letting go of such an intimate habit born through years in the survey corps just to please the teachers and to make it easier for their son fit in, seemed almost unfair. He sought solace at least in Hange’s forced grin. She didn’t want to do it either.

We suffer together. Levi thought to himself. With a quick glance at her, Levi was sure Hange understood. Making it an issue of pride and misery made it all together a more bearable challenge.

***

It was bearable at least. And it took a little more careful introspection to pick up those few moments he had called Hange 'shitty four eyes' or ‘four eyes’ and he started to realize, it had been more difficult to point out than his own abrasive choice of words and his own vulgarity.

Shitty four eyes after all, never seemed like a string of curse words or insults. It was a pet name, so invisibly embedded in conversations that Levi felt strangely incomplete not peppering his dialogue with it.

Hange seemed to struggle as well. Clean freak. She used to say. She had started to replace it with something more diplomatic. “You really like cleaning huh?” A few syllables longer but it felt terribly, terribly unnatural. And Hange always accompanied it with the widest and most cringe inducing grin.

Every single time, Levi would look away, to stop himself from laughing or grimacing, one of those. Hange must have been doing the same though.

Shitty four eyes.

He had replaced ‘shitty four eyes’ with the closest thing he could come up with. It had taken some strict observation from other couples to pick up the best one. “Yes honey, I really love cleaning,” Levi admitted. He put enough emphasis on the pet name, hoping that would at least teach their child about proper pet naming conventions, the importance of ‘not cursing’ and just conventional diplomacy.

Hange was only making it harder to take the challenge seriously, a sardonic grin constantly plastered on her face. Every single time, he had called her honey, she looked away and cleared her throat, or let out a wracked cough, a good disguise for what he guessed had been a laugh.

A shoddy disguise but somehow, it seemed to work. Luke would watch them every time, his stare far from blank. He had on the same face he made every single time he would form those words with the blocks. Luke was deep in thought. “Shitty four eyes! Clean freak!” He said a second later.

Luke would then repeat that many few times over dinner or breakfast.

Imitation. Levi would tell himself, will himself to ignore Luke’s words. As painfully uncharacteristic as it was. Levi would trod on with his mission. “Honey, you want more bread?” Levi tried to make that one word seem as sweet as it sounded. He never got the practice though, so he wondered if he ever had the innate ability to make any words sound sweet.

“Thank you honey,” Hange responded, her grin much wider. A split second later, she looked away, seeming ashamed with herself.

Levi couldn’t blame Hange. It was a painful rendition, her tone seemed very much rehearsed. And when it was common knowledge between them that she was naturally more eloquent than he was, Levi found himself wondering how bad he sounded.

As long as Luke learns. Levi willed himself to swallow whatever embarrassment and stifling sensation came with the slow and excruciating weaning process from very intimate habits.

Luke eventually picked it up. “Ho...ney?” he repeated as his eyes darted between his two parents.

Yes. Honey. Levi nodded.

Luke’s face fell, his expression shifted from something curious, then something confused. Ending with something that could have been a hint of crestfallenness.

Levi couldn’t be too sure though. The boy looked down at his food and Levi couldn’t bring himself to crane his neck and sneak a glance to confirm it. The drooping shoulders of his son was enough to get his stomach turning though.

How long would it take for him to get used to it? Three weeks? Months? Eventually Luke should get used to it… Right?

It was one of those rare days where Hange had decided to work from home. Her piles of paperwork took up more than half their dining table and food would seem more like a hazard than a necessity.

When Hange was only present during weekends, Levi at the least, tolerated it.

On one condition, he was allowed to straighten out the almost two foot tall pile everytime he passed by the dining room in between household chores. When Hange was deep into hundreds of pages worth of reports though, she didn’t look like she minded Levi’s silent interruptions.

“What time are you picking Luke up from school?” Hange asked.

Levi looked at the clock. “He gets out of school at two today,” he answered. It was eleven, and half his mind was already looking into planning lunch.

“Okay,” Hange said, her focus fell back to the paperwork.

It wasn’t anything new, even on weekends or any other day Hange was home, Levi did most of the cooking and cleaning. Hange’s presence did manage to take some of the load off household management off of his shoulders.

Answering the phone was no exception.

Most days, Levi was capable of doing it on his own. When the vegetables were boiling on a pot, the pasta heating in the oven just below it, Hange offered to answer the phone.

“Zoe residence… Speaking…” Hange had always been better at answering the phone anyway. “Luke?”

Levi’s ears perked up at that. He lowered the heat of the stove, as if that would have done anything to make the conversation clear.

“What? Why? No… We’re not.” Hange’s voice was racked with surprise. “....You’re right. We’ll get there soon… We can leave now… We’re not too busy….”

Hange? Not busy? Levi had turned off the stove. Lunch never was the most urgent thing. “You’re going to school?”

“It’s about Luke.”

No shit. “I can tell that much from the conversation,” Levi said. “What happened?”

“He just started crying apparently…” Hange said.

Levi sensed the urgency in the speed at which she pulled her coat over her and retied her hair. “Crying over?” Levi pressed. Luke rarely cried and just that thought had Levi’s heart pounding.

“When the teachers were explaining… Luke was crying about… his parents… About us?”

“Your son said, you two ‘’didn’t love each other anymore’” the headmaster explained. It had been just them in the office but with the way the headmaster had explained it, it looked like she could have been quoting Luke word per word.

Levi surreptitiously flashed Hange a look of confusion, a glance just to see if she knew anything.

She seemed as lost as he was. “Can we talk to our son?” Hange asked.

“Before that, I just wanted to discuss the family situation first… See if we could do anything to support Luke through this?”

“Through what?”

“Through your ‘separation?’”

Levi turned to Hange, his eyes wide. We’re separating?

Hange furrowed her brows at him, an incredulous look. She turned abruptly back at the principal. “Who told you we’re separating?”

“Your son said you two have been fighting a lot. And he seemed very affected...”

“Fighting?” Levi asked. Are we?

No we aren’t. Hange’s expression said it all. “If there’s any misunderstanding, we can explain it to Luke ourselves.”

“You have to understand. We have our students welfare in mind. If we believe that your son is being raised in an unsuitable environment…”

“Excuse me?” Hange put one hand to her chest. Her tone was slipping to something with more emotion than any attempt at compromise.

“Just let us talk to our son,” Levi said. The echo of his own voice sounded unfamiliar in that small voice, especially since Hange had done the talking the whole time.

“We’ve been hearing as well about the vulgarities your son has been spouting...” the headmaster said.

“Yes, we’ve been working on it,” Levi said firmly, with every intention to interrupt the old lady.

“I’d like first some verbal commitment from both of you at least to work on this? We treat every child here like part of the family. With the case on Luke’s word usage and his suddenly bursting into tears in school… It looks like his home environment might not be ideal.”

“Can you let us talk to our son please?” Levi said. He turned to Hange. The brunette had fallen silent yet she seemed very much deep in thought.

“Could you please explain though from your end the debacle about the ‘shitty four eyes’ and the ‘clean freak?”

“We’re working on it,” Levi repeated. Somehow, it was getting harder and harder to sit still.

The condescending look in the woman’s face, the accusing glare wasn’t making it any easier. “But have you been working hard on it? Can I ask what is causing you to employ such vulgarity in your own home, in an environment for children?”

Since when did schools in Paradis get this vigilant about children’s home lives? It was a welcome change at least but Levi was in no mood to ponder the benefits of such an arrangement. “With all due respect ma’am, that’s none of your goddamn business.”

Levi could have just made it worse. And Hange said so herself, in between a stifled grin and a stifled chuckle.

If his own treatment of the very snobby principal could have done anything to convince the whole school that they were shitty parents. He was confident at least, Luke would defend them.

I mean a three year old should be capable of defending their parents right?

A three and a half year old. Hange’s words echoed in his head. If the ‘half year’ of living did anything to make Luke anymore aware of what exactly was going on, he prayed it did work.

Whether it was because he was three and a half or he was merely three, he seemed to have understood. A flash of recognition as they locked eyes along the hallways, Luke still let go of the Ms. Wilde's hand and ran towards them.

By some instinctive need to prove something maybe, Levi clutched Hange’s hand. She gripped back.

Luke seemed to have noticed it. “No fighting?”

“Fighting? Who said we’re fighting?” Hange bent down and patted her son on the head with her free hand.

A wide grin on his face, Luke turned to Hange. “Shitty four eyes.” Then to Levi. “Clean freak.”

Levi bent down, right next to Hange. “Yes, this is my shitty four eyes,” Levi said as he put one hand on Hange’s head, pulling her close.

“And this is my clean freak,” Hange pointed a finger to her left, towards Levi.

Something felt natural and intimate and something tasted sweeter than honey when he was saying those words again, words he had kept nill for months.

The grin in Luke’s face only made the release all the sweeter. “Shitty four eyes and clean freak!” Soon, he was running back to the teacher that had called out to him. He still had a few more hours of school.

“I guess we’ve been pretty careless about the nicknames huh?” Hange whispered wryly. “He’s probably just too young to understand what ‘shitty’ or what ‘freak’ could imply in any other situation.”

Levi stared ahead, at the young boy who was talking to the teacher in whatever childish babble the three year old could manage. “You know, the nicknames never felt like an insult to me.”

“I mean, we have been using them since we’ve met right? It just slips off our tongue every now and then,” Hange said as she let out a soft chuckle.

Every now and then. No a lot more often, than every now and then. To the point that Levi never felt it when it happened. Yet the absence of such words were painfully glaring.

“What are we going to do now about Luke’s language?” Levi averted his gaze, perfectly aware that if Luke had learned anything, it had probably been from his father.

“Have you ever taught him what the words ‘shitty’ or ‘freak’ meant?”

“Never,” Levi said.

“Then maybe we don’t have to think too much about it?” Hange suggested.

But it continued to nag. After all, the teachers continued to stare, probably whispering. Levi and Hange spent the last few hours before school ended just sitting by the courtyard of the school and they had more than enough evidence by then to be sure, teachers were talking.

When the bell rang, they found themselves attempting to brush away whispers and glares from the teacher, instead focusing on the hallways which were starting to fill with toddlers and kids.

And eventually, they found Luke, next to him a young girl in pig tails, with glasses. She wore a blouse and a skirt without a single crease on them. “This is my shitty four eyes… And my Clean freak!” Luke said. The girl next to him waved her hand, a wide grin on her face, not at all fazed by the words ‘shitty’ or ‘freak.’

Levi exchanged a knowing glance with Hange. No other words were shared between them but somehow they both understood. Maybe adults were just overthinking that very simple thing called language.