#what the hay diddle diddle

[ppushable]

of course we'll be okay

jean kirschtein x fem reader / longfic / chapter wc: 11.1k

6 - knight in shining armour

masterlist

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more gore this chapter - zombie crushing, if ur into that

cringe warning too. but you guys are used to it. onward...

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“Should we wake them up?”

“Yeah. Hey, wake up.”

A familiar ceiling hangs above me. 

“Are you… awake?” The mattress jolts as something hard lands beside me.

“Gah!” Jean shrieks into my ear. 

Levi was right. Hange was right. Miche was right. Why the hell did I do this to myself? 

“What the hell, Yay-gurr?”

Yaygurr? Oh, is that Jaeger? Jaeger, now where have I seen that word before?

“Rise and shine, Kirschtein.”

“I hate you so fucking much give me—” Jean’s voice muffles— “five more minutes leave me alone.” I couldn’t have said it better myself. 

“That’s not yours, Kirschtein.”

“Ossie, get up. Jean’s drooling all over your pillow.”

Are they talking to me? 

“Eren, what do we do?”

“Maybe we should leave them. Levi can come to wake them up.”

“Three minutes,” my pillow says, making a funny vibration. I didn’t know it could do that. It feels smoother than usual, and… fluffy. Fluffy like hay-coloured hair. Funny…  

My eyes peel open on their own. 

Fluffy, hay-coloured hair. Eyes screwed shut. 

That’s… the head of Jean. That’s my hand in it. My hand comes off. His eyes slide open. 

Stupidly, I sit up quick and face the blood-draining repercussion. “What time is it?” I seethe through clenched teeth as the world goes darker than it already is and my brain melts into a dark sludge. 

“Like, five-o-five. Dirk is gonna start wondering if you guys don’t get up.” 

Five?!

“Fuuuuck this,” Jean mutters behind me. “Ugh.” He shifts and his knee hits mine. “Uuuugh.” He sucks in a deep breath. “This pillow fucking stinks.”

“Hey!” I fumble for the pillow and seize the soft cloth before swiping it out from underneath him. “That’s mine!”

He doesn’t move as his head smacks the mattress. 

“He’s always like this,” Mikasa calls, already halfway down the ladder. “Let’s just go, he’ll catch up.”

“Sweet dreams, Kirschtein,” Eren smirks. “Let’s go, Ossie.”

His dim, static form disappears from view as I descend the ladder after Eren. 

Lucky bastard. 

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It’s a little cool outside and the sun’s only starting to come out, dark blues and whites smudging with red in the way it does in the sky. The air is still crisp and damp from the night, battered between the downy wings of mourning doves that coo in solemnity from the dewey rooftops and shifting branches. They don’t dare land on the ground, where the slog toils.  

The four of us stand in a line, Eren, Mikasa, Jean, and I, watching the man in front of us squat and diddle with the dirt. If you can call trying not to fall over “standing.” I shift my weight of the soft and damp soil that won’t stop shifting like a tempest beneath my feet and it strikes me that this is the man from earlier that was yelling and stomping his feet at Shadis. How brave. An inspiration. Truly. 

“Uh. Mr. Dirk?” Eren ventures, nearly drowned out by a sudden flock of small birds that buffet the air above us. “We’re here.”

When he doesn’t respond, Jean speaks up. “Mr. Dirk!”

“Eh?” He raises his head, obscuring brushed-back brown hair under a green sun hat (worn for decorative purposes, apparently), and looks around in every direction before looking behind him. “Oh, you guys the helpers? Geez, you look like hell.”

Four pairs of eyes land on me at once.

Jean clears his throat. “Yeah—”

“Is that all Levi sent?” he continues, blatantly cutting Jean off. “I got more last time…”

Eren squinches his eyes. “He’ll probably—” Dirk sniffles and wipes his nose with a gloved hand, getting dirt on his upper lip— “send in more later.”

“Alright. Well, you guys can get started on, uh. That.” He waves offhandedly at a pile of fence boards, the thin mucous line on his finger gleaming in the weak rays. “Just build it up. Tell the others to, uh, weed the dirt over there if they come.” He sniffs again and spends a few seconds wiggling his nose and baring his teeth. “Yeah, thanks.”

Jean scowls, mirroring Eren’s expression. I meet Mikasa’s eyes. “Okay,” she says, and with that the four of us make our way to the pile of wood. 

“Dirk didn’t lie.” Eren matches my pace, long legs making slower footsteps. “Did you get any sleep last night?” 

“I just had a rough time falling asleep.”

He nods. “Yeah, I get it.” He raises his voice in a let’s-get-to-business way. “Anyways. Dirk doesn’t like to explain things. He probably wants us to build another garden bed with these boards.” In a neat row up ahead are the other garden beds, large, rectangular boxes that hold dirt in them like haphazard planters. “Most of the time we guess what he wants and it’s good enough.”

“It’s easy,” Mikasa adds quietly behind her (dry) scarf, and I gingerly lean forward to hear her better. “You put in the stakes at each corner and take the flat boards.” Her voice is so soft. “You nail in the boards to the stakes.”

“Oh, okay.” Yeah, I definitely got all of that. 

“Easy,” Jean snorts. “Makes you wonder why the guy doesn’t do it himself. Or just plant them in the ground.” 

“Don’t let him hear you,” Eren says, “he’ll throw another temper tantrum.” 

This makes Jean scoff as he grabs the damp-darkened end of a board. Eren takes the other end and together they line it up with the garden bed already built before dropping it to get another. Mikasa beckons and I watch as she takes a long, wooden stake and a sledgehammer and lines up the tapered end near the far end of the board the boys just put down. 

In an easy movement her sledgehammer is raised above her head and swings down right on top of the pole to drill it into the ground. Again. The vibrations land in my feet and stop when only around three-quarters of the stake is left visible. “Hoo.” She turns and wipes off her forehead, signature forehead hair strand springing back into position when her hand moves away. “Try it. There’s another hammer there.” 

Me? Bad idea. By now the rest of the boards have been set up in a neat rectangular shape on the ground like a chalk outline and the boys both have their own stakes to hammer in. “Okay.” 

The closest stake lies in a red-blue puddle. No point in trying to keep my hands clean, I guess. The ice-hot water ripples when my fingertips break the surface, distorting the sky behind the image of my reflection. Funny. I find the hammer Mikasa was referring to leaning against a finished garden bed, its handle just as damp and slightly gritty, and just like her, I line up the sharp edge of the stake with the last available corner. 

Line it up, raise… my first swing clips off the edge. The second lands. The third… it’s getting harder to lift up. Whack — my hand slips a little down the handle with every jolt, but the stake is smooth and splinter-free — whack. A crisp, hollow crack. 

I step back to admire my work. The stake sticks up at a slight angle and when I push it straight it slops back down again. 

“All done?” Eren had snuck up behind me. “Good, now we can get the wall boards on. Here.” He holds out a fist. Raising an eyebrow, I bump it, and he shakes it. “No, like here. I’m gonna give you something.”

“Oh.” I jut my hand underneath and he drops in a few mildly rusty nails. I’ll take that killer bee sting now. I close my eyes for a few seconds: a mockery of true slumber. Wish I was sleeping. 

“Uh, look what Mikasa and Jean are doing.” Begrudgingly, I peel my eyes open to Eren’s voice. “They’re nailing in the boards to the stakes. The walls have to be three boards high. Can you do it?”

Can I do it. “Sure, Eren.”

He nods and briefly returns my smile before ducking down to one of the stakes. “Line the other end up, and we can nail them in.”

I nod and drop to my knees a little too hard, moisture seeping through the cloth of my pants. Is this really the same boy that vowed to destroy all of the zombies? When the wood is pressed flush against the stakes he purses his lips as he aligns a nail and bends sideways to carefully tap it in until the tip is embedded far enough for the nail to stick out on its own. He shifts back, nearly falls over, regains his balance, and continues to hit it. Crazy how those two scenarios can fit into the same body. Maybe he has a split personality, because now he doesn’t look like that spitting psychopath anymore. Just… normal. 

“So, uh, Mikasa,” Jean’s saying as I hurry up to put in some nails (Eren’s already on his second). “You got any pla— ahuhm. You wanna do something later?” He sticks his forearm up weirdly against the top of a stake as if to lean on it but it just looks uncomfortable. “I found a pretty cool spot.”

“The basement isn’t cool.” Jean’s face falls at her answer. She didn’t even look up at him. 

“No— this time it’s really— nice. It’s nice.”

Mikasa’s weary eyes meet my own. “Let’s switch spots.”

I blink dumbly as Jean struggles to unstick a fiber from his sleeve from the jagged wood edge of the stake. “Wait, hold on…” She ignores him.

“Sure, if that’s… okay…” I look at Eren and he shrugs. 

Mikasa steps in between us and when I stand she puts her steely hands on my shoulders and gets close, not letting me inch away. “Don’t let him…” her brow furrows and she bites her lip in an image of fleeting frustration, “compliment your hair.”

“Oh,” I say, neck sticking back at a weird angle. Is that supposed to be a hidden message? I don’t get her at all. “Okay.” Is she trying to warn me because she’s being nice? Is she over the scarf thing? “Sure.” 

She pushes me back a little before letting go. “Now go.”

Yeah, she’s not over the scarf thing. I mutter an “okay” before taking myself to the side of the garden bed with Jean in it. He’s wrapping the unravelled string hanging from his arm around his knuckles and snaps it off with a small grunt. “Jaeger,” he starts. 

“Back to work,” the boy responds over the sounds of mine and Mikasa’s hammers. “I’m not switching with you.”

Jean doesn’t say anything and I almost stop to look up. I don’t know enough around here to not look stupid all the time. Can’t wait for the day to be over. 

Eren starts hammering, and eventually Jean. Unlike with Eren, I can feel every strike of his hammer to the bone whenever I happen to have my fingers on the board. Wham, wham, wham. He’s doing it way too hard; every contact makes my head want to explode. 

The funny part is how Eren seems to be hammering harder, too.

“Are you done yet?” Jean snaps, his words more jarring than any hammer strike. 

My pulse meets my throat; the nails in my hand fall to the dirt. “What?” Fuck, that scared me. He’s right behind me. 

“Of course.”

I blink, sticky-eyed, and pull myself up. His sour look doesn’t falter until I push the metal head of my hammer hard into his chest, hard enough to satisfy a little part of me, hard enough to make him step back. “Leave me alone. I’m tired.”

“You’re tired?” he grunts. “We just started, how could you be tired?”

“What are you, my boss?” Chunks of dirt push under my fingernails.  

“Huh?”

Well, fuck, he called it now. “You’re not my boss—” the hammer nearly crushes our feet when it falls out of my hands — oops — “so leave me alone.” 

“What? What the hell are you on about?” Not this again. I don’t want him to talk again. I don’t want to do it again. “This is about—”

“Just!” Too loud. “Honestly, Jean, I don’t care anymore. Please don’t bother me until the week is over. We agreed on it. I really don’t wanna talk to you until then.”

Jean perks up with a new vigour. “And—”

“One—” I jut a finger between his eyebrows and he shrinks back— “week. We agreed, didn’t we, but you’re still here bugging me. What is wrong with you?” Eren and Mikasa are not hammering anymore and I feel the heat rising. “What’s wrong with him? Did he get dropped as a baby? Is that why his head’s like that?”

They stare over the half-finished wall like meerkats. “Yeah,” Eren grins, “probably.”

“I can’t believe I got stuck with you again. How does anyone even stand you? You’re arrogant and thoughtless and your breath stinks and your voice is too loud and your hair is dumb—”

Like reflex Jean’s hand flies into the bed of hay glued to his reddening head. “My hair is not dumb! And you know what, I may be all those things, but at— at least I have some value!”

“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I swipe the hammer off the ground and when I get back up the ground tilts. “Wh— why don’t you man up—” I point the hammer at the dark smudge on his chest from last time and it begins to sag under the weight of itself— “and say what you mean?”

He hesitates, then, “no.” Smirks. “You’re sad. I’d break your poor little heart. You might forget everything again.”

“Then I’ll be happy until I have the displeasure of meeting you again.” 

The hammer slips out of my hand again and this time Jean suddenly yelps and doubles down. 

Oops. 

“What’s wrong?” I cover my mouth so Eren and Mikasa can’t see and I can feel my pulse through my hand and in my brain, synchronized, accelerating. “Why don’t you get to work? Kirschtein?” I clamp down on my tongue. “Tired already?”

“Jesus, Ossie,” Eren says. 

I poke his head. “Come on, Kirschtein. What are you, a burden? Can you even run a mile?”

“Go fuck yourself.” 

“Nothing else to say?”

“Shut up.”

I straighten. “I guess I have to do this board all by myself.” I wrap my fingers around a cold slice of wood and shove it toward the half-finished bed. “Hey, your body’s in the way. Better get up.”

He shoots me a glare that might kill a small woodland creature before unfolding to his full height, limp-stepping to the other side of the board, and taking the other end. Together, we push it against the stakes. I grab my hammer and we get to work. 

Wham, crack, wham…

The repetitive movement, that chorus of strikes rippling through my body. The rhythm loses me in its meaningless comfort, cool sweat on my brow. It fades. 

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“Hello, everyone!”

I know that voice. Looks like Jean does, too, the way he suddenly stiffens. Like a deer in the headlights. Like something’s wrong. 

“Oh, hi, Ms. Kirschtein,” Eren says to the distance behind me. I push my hammer’s head against the soil as I turn to look. 

And here she is, dirt-smudged (already?) and coming at us with a basket that she holds against the side of her tan, long apron-skirt with a plaid pink frill. Wonderful. We meet eyes — eye contact is strange, if you think about it — and she hits me with that joyous quirk of the mouth.  

“Hi, Ms. Kirshtein,” Mikasa echoes. 

“Hi.” I smile back. “Ms. Kirschtein.” I’m abusing your son. And then the guilt rolls in. 

He’s going to tell her. He’s going to tell her I dropped a hammer on his foot and she’s gonna hate me forever oh stupid why did I do that why did I let my temper go I should’ve controlled—

“How is everyone this morning?” 

Mikasa stands. “We’re good.” 

“I just wanted to stop by to drop off some of…” she bats aside the lid of her basket with the back of her hand, wicker scraping as it lifts, and dives in, “these.” Like a magician she brandishes a small, apple-coloured ball. Shaped like an apple, too. 

Eren perks up at the sight. “Woah, is that an apple?”

Well. 

Mirabel sports a chillingly familiar half-smirk at the reaction and hands it off to Eren as he approaches. 

“Wow,” Mikasa breathes. Even Jean spares a glance over his shoulder. Just barely, but he does. 

“Ms. Kirschtein…” Eren walks over to her and is handed one of the round fruits. He cups it in both hands and stand around it like it’s made of gold. “How— thank you.”

She chuckles. “You’re welcome, dear.” Mirabel sticks her hand in the basket again and starts walking over this way, stained white shoes peeking out from underneath her dress every few steps. “I brought enough for everyone to have one.” She stops and holds one out in front of me. It’s shiny. On its crown, underneath the dead-black leaf perched on its stem, is a small bruise. The whole thing is covered in tiny black speckles like ducks or geese or something against a gradient red-yellow sky. It’s not very impressive, but… it’s for me. You really shouldn’t have done that. I’m being an asshole to your son. 

“For you, Mikasa…” 

I should’ve wiped my hands or something. Now there’s worm poop on it. It’s okay, though, Mirabel might slap it out of my hands. 

“And here’s one for you, Jean-bo.”

Ever so carefully, I curl the fruit into my sweater pocket. It bulges out. 

Finally Jean speaks. “What are you doing here?” 

I look up. He’s joking, right? That’s no way to talk to your mother. 

“Well, I just wanted to drop these off. And I know how much you love apples, Jean…”

The growing storm on his face must have caused her to trail off like that. “Yeah, well I don’t want them!” He goes to push away her offering, but too quickly; it tumbles and falls in an arc out of her grip. 

Did he just—

“Whoops!” It lands on the ground somewhere near me. 

I know he’s an asshole. Yes. But to do that to his mother, Mirabel fucking Kirschtein, the sweetest woman I know, the woman that treats me with nothing but kindness. Is there something I’m missing? Is she beating him in secret or something? Or do I need to drop another hammer on his foot, except on his head?

“What the hell,” Eren grumbles next to me before scooping it up. His eyes blaze with an emerging glint of light as the sun drags up. “What was that for?”

Jean’s hand is still outstretched from when he — I’m assuming — knocked the fruit out of Mirabel’s hand. His mother’s hand. Without a morsel of remorse on his face. “Whatever. It was an accident.”

“Accident my ass.” Eren either doesn't see or doesn’t notice Jean rolling his eyes. “Are you okay, Ms. Kirschtein?”

“Nothing to worry about,” she says a little too brightly, quickly, before putting her hand over Eren’s that holds the extra apple. “Please make sure this gets to Jean-bo.”

“Uh. Yeah.” He’s biting his tongue. “Of course.”

“Thank you, everyone, for being friends with—”

Jean clenches his hair. “Just get out of here!”

Marco, why?

“Everyone, I hope you have a good day.” The words almost spill out on top of each other and it’s just sad now as Mirabel pays us each her goodbye — a pat on the arm for Mikasa, a shoulder tap for Eren, a hand on the head for me. “I—” she stops in front of Jean. “I’ll see everyone later.” She slips away. 

Eren, apples still in hand, hovers over Jean. “Mind telling us, once again, what the hell is wrong with you?” he snaps as soon as she’s gone. “She’s your mom, for Christs’ sake!”

“Mind your own business, would you?”

“Wh—” 

“Shut up, okay?” Jean rises to his feet and throws his hands up, suddenly appearing much larger. “Are we gonna do this thing—” he waves at the nearly-finished bed— “or not?”

“Jean.” Though quiet, Mikasa’s voice commands the confrontation. “Don’t you know how lucky you are?”

That makes him stop. It all goes flat — like Jean really is lucky. Like Eren and Mikasa don’t have what he has. I guess I don’t, either. 

“Whatever,” he finally blurts, ducking down to the ground. “She’s gone anyways. Doesn’t matter.” 

“Stand up, Kirschtein.” Eren speaks in a gravelly low, peals of danger squeezing through his teeth. 

Freezing in mid-squat, Jean snaps, “what’s your problem?”

Eren looks around, then back at me. “Here.” He shoves both apples in my direction and my hands grab them quickly because it looks like his patience is running terribly thin. He doesn’t stop; in one smooth movement he grasps the front of Jean’s shirt. His fist is soon covered by Jean’s as he snaps to attention and my organs sink through each other. 

“Get your dirty little—”

“I said stand up!” Eren shoves his opponent onto his feet, voice carrying throughout the garden, shoes skidding on dirt. My feet freeze to the dirt and mud, my blood coagulating into something similar, piling in my head, pulse. His fingers flex where his hand rests near his thigh, ready to swing. “You bastard!”

Jean’s eyebrows go sad but his face stays wired in a snarl. Eren suddenly stumbles back as if pushed. 

Something flat touches my shoulder, pumping my veins with more lead, but it’s just Mikasa. She pulls me back to face her. “You should stay back.”

“Auch!” Jean yelps. “Fucker! Ah!”

Bodies tumble to the ground behind me but I’m fixed standing here, staring at Mikasa. 

“Stop smiling at me like that.” 

Oh. I stop smiling. It makes my face feel better, at least. “Do they,” I point at the writhing duo just as Jean buries his fist in Eren’s stomach, “do they do that a lot?”

“Yes.” She takes her hand off my shoulder and looks around. “Don’t worry. It always ends before Eren gets hurt. Just wait it out.”

Okay, Mikasa. Reassuring. 

“I’ll— fucking— kill…”

Eren finds some kind of leverage and slams Jean between the ground and the newly-finished garden bed. It rattles under their weight. We built it pretty strong! “You really don’t know how lucky you are, do you?!”

“Get off my dick for once!” Jean heaves, pulling them both off of the planks and onto the ground. Both grunt. “You just can’t keep to yourself, can you?” He bares his teeth, painting a harrowing portrait of a horse. “You piss me off!”

Eren graces his statement with a loud throat noise and smashes his head against Jean’s. Both detach from themselves and splay on the ground. 

Mikasa dashes forward, an uttered “Eren?” her only warning before hooking her hands underneath his armpits and damn near lifting him to her height. “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

“If you’d let go of me—” 

“Eren, how many fingers am I holding— how many fingers is she holding up?” She swivels on the spot, pointing the dazed gladiator in my direction. “Hold up your fingers!”

“Uh.” I put up three fingers on one of my hands, though he probably can’t see it behind the apple I’m still holding. 

“I don’t have a concussion, let me go.”

By the time I figure out that I can turn my hand around so my fingers are in front of the fruit, Eren’s already freed himself from Mikasa’s grip. “I’m fine,” he says, rubbing the crown of his head under mousy hair. “Can’t say the same for horseface over there.”

‘Horseface over there’ is on his hands and knees. Mikasa seems far too occupied with Eren to care, and Eren just doesn’t. 

I don’t really want to, either. My teeth pinch the inside of my mouth and I have to stop myself from biting. This is for Mirabel. This is for Marco. This is not for Jean. 

I put the boys’ apples in my pocket and take the apple Mikasa dropped on the ground before preparing myself. 

“Jean?” Silence. “Jean, are you…” I try to siphon a smidge of sympathy into my tone as I inch toward him, “okay?” 

“Fuck off.”

“Okay.” I tried. If he’s suffering, he can do it alone. 

“Stop— stop that! Leave me alone. Mikasa.”

“Eren, how old are you?”

“Stop it, okay?” Eren stomps next to me. “Let’s go finish the job, Ossie.” Then, venomously, “Don’t bother with him.” There’s a tender, red spot blooming on the right side of his face. “What?” 

I shake my head and walk back to avoid his scathing gaze. Maybe I should give him the hammer next. 

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“Hiii. Ossie. Wake up.”

My feet are covered in mud.

“Open up, okay? Sleepy Joee… Here comes the choo-choo…”

Sasha. You’re a gift. Even at this table full of people you still concern yourself with me. I shut my eyes. 

“Oye!” Someone smacks my back and I recoil like a loaded spring, unsticking my head from the cafeteria table. “Huh!”

“Connie, what is wrong with you?” Sasha tuts. “Come on, eat this soup so we’ll be nice and full of nutrients! Eh? Aaaa.”

I open my mouth but take the spoon as she dips it in. “Mmph.”

“Good?”

I shoot her a thumbs-up and pry the utensil out of my mouth. Our apples are long gone, and they were delicious. Sasha ate hers before meeting with the rest of us, core and all. God only knows where Mirabel got a hold of them, because from what I’m told, most fruits are more or less nonexistent. 

It’s a real shame that Jean’s too much of a mule to take his. I turn the last apple remaining around in my pocket, polish it. He’s sulking, food untouched, holding up his head in a way that covers the big red spot on his forehead and looking at everything except the people sitting around the table. 

Beside him Marco sports this crooked grin as he swallows some of his own nondescript slop. “Hey, you got a mark on your forehead.” He runs a finger in a crisscross pattern across his own, spoon dangling from hand. 

Sure enough, I can feel the grooves when I touch it — it’s from the table. “Oh.” 

“You look like a roast chicken, Ossie.”

“Thanks, Sasha.” 

“These tables are killers, man,” Connie groans, lifting his arms to reveal the crisscross pattern beneath. “I got my fingers stuck once.”

I don’t let my grin get too big. “Really?” 

“I remember that!” Marco covers his mouth as he swallows. “I had to pull your hand out for you.”

The buzzcut cradles his knuckles. “Damn near pulled my fingers off, too.” 

“You need to be a special kind of idiot to do something like that,” Sasha scoffs. 

“I was a victim, okay?” Connie cries. “I wasn’t trying to get stuck.”

“Hey, remember that, Jean?” Marco nudges his friend with his shoulder. “When you had to pour baby oil all over Connie’s hand?”

He rolls his eyes, muttering a quiet “don’t remind me.”

“And we had class next, so we had to run.” Marco leans forward on his arms and turns to Jean again. “Man, isn’t that what we have next now?”

He nods. 

How does one like Jean even befriend Marco, let alone be best friends? They’re immensely different. Marco has feelings. 

“I wonder what he’s gonna yap about today,” Connie sighs. “Oh, did we tell you yet, Ossie? We still have to do school and stuff. Even though there’s a literal zombie apocalypse. Isn’t that bullshit?”

“Education is important, Connie,” Marco sighs, running his palm on top of his head. 

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“Attention!” 

The classroom clamour simmers to a hush as the teacher announces his entry and carries his bald head to the whiteboard. A familiar bald head. A spine-chilling bald. 

“It’s Shadis?” I hiss to Sasha sitting beside me, idly sipping a Five Alive juice box. 

She looks up through her lashes, a fleeting image of innocence. “Huh? Oh.” The juice straw is revealed to be completely chewed up when she unlocks her jaw and pulls it out of her grinning mouth. “Yeah, apparently he’s, like, a certified elementary teacher.”

Shadis? Certified to teach some fourth graders algebra, no less? “You’re kidding.”

Lips pursed, she shrugs exaggeratedly. “I’ve never seen him around kids—”

“Braus! Anything to share?”

“No sir!”

Shadis — Shadis! — clears his throat. “Today, class,” he begins in a stiff, teacherly tone, turning his back to write on the board, “we will be learning about causes of the first world war. Before we start.” He looks back at us, grouped around the same kind of folding tables Hange had in their room. On each one is a large sheet of chart paper and a marker. Ours is dark blue and scented. “Does anyone have any questions?”

If I squint, I can see a classroom in here: big windows facing the outside with abstract sticker decals, hanging fluorescents (switched off, of course), walls painted light blue. But it’s too empty, too formal, to be anything normal. Too sleek. There’s not enough furniture. Not enough grease. 

Connie stifles a giggle across from me for god knows what reason this time. 

“Something to add, Springer!” Shadis yells at Connie’s back. 

“No sir!” he calls back without turning. 

“Okay, then.” He points at the word on the board — MAIN. “Now.” There’s a thin, telltale waver in his voice.

“Hey, Ossie, look.” Connie grins and slips a little square piece of origami at me. Folded frog. He pushes down on its worn-down back end and slips his finger off, making it spring through the air before landing on its feet near Marco’s end of the table, directly left of me. He quickly cups his hand over it so Shadis won’t see, smacking his ring loudly against the table in the process. Connie giggles, prompting another scathing over-the-shoulder glance.

“Something to share, Springer?” 

This time he turns around, putting both hands on the back of the padded metal chair. “It was him!” 

“I don’t want to hear any more from you.”

“But—”

“Springer! Face the front.”

Now it’s Sasha’s turn to chortle and bump into me as her best friend grumbles, turning his seat so his back is to us. 

“Now, does anyone know what the M stands for? Christa?”

Connie’s chair clashes with the one beside him — the one Jean sits on. He clicks his tongue, but keeps drawing in his sketchpad. What is he drawing?

“Militarism.”

“Very good!”

Chewing on his lip, Jean darts a quick look across the room, back at his notebook, and then back at the same spot behind me. Then he looks at me. 

“Militarism or the arms race was a very big contributor to the rising tensions between the countries of Europe.” Chalk clicks against the board. “The competition to have the best army escalated the situation…” something small drops near the front “… greatly.”

I narrow my eyes. Who’s he looking at? I twist in my chair. There’s Eren, Armin… Mikasa? When I look back he has that killer glare on. 

“How about the A? Any idea what that stands for?”

Jean snaps his sketchpad shut. It’s small enough for him to fit in his front pants pocket, but he has to lean back and sort of shimmy it in. 

“Anyone other than Christa?”

Marco puts the frog in his fist before raising it. 

“Yes, Marco.”

“Is it…” his Adam’s apple bobs up. “Aggression?”

“No, but good guess. Anyone else?” 

He pouts and gives me a small shrug before tossing the frog in front of me. It’s a cute little thing with drawn-on googly eyes. Wonder who made it. I put its worn paper rump under my finger and flip it just like Connie did, landing it near Jean, who narrows his eyes at me. My growing smile fades. He jerks his head at Marco.

Huh?

Seemingly frustrated, he waves me off. 

“A. It stands for alliances. The forming of alliances like the Triple Entente and the Triple Alliance increased tensions. It meant that a fight could quickly escalate into a big war.”

Jean leans back in his chair and mutters something to Connie. A moment later, the bald boy puffs in failed subtlety and stares at me before Jean swats him. 

I take back the frog. Something’s happening.

“Next? Anyone?”

Jean’s eyes wander back to the table of three. 

Mikasa raises her hand. 

“Ackerman.”

“Can I go to the bathroom?”

“Yes,” he sighs. “Anyone else? Christa.”

I watch Jean’s eyes trail to the door like a lost puppy and flip the frog. 

Shadis sighs. “Imperialism. Colonization was happening everywhere. This is important because it puts a strain on resources and influence.”

The frog lands upside down on Marco’s leg. I can get it if I reach under his arm, but he starts bouncing his leg and the frog hops and slides down the slippery denim slope. No! 

Just in time, I trap the frog against the side of Marco’s thigh by smacking it. 

“Uh?” The shaking stops. 

The inside. The inside of his thigh. 

“Uh, Ossie?” 

My neck dampens. You fucking idiot! Move!

In an unceremonious motion I swipe the frog and dump it onto the table. Wow, I wonder what Shadis is teaching us? World War I? Fascinating! I’ve never been so interested! He’s a natural teacher! Fuck me! I just can’t seem to take my eyes off of him! Neither can Jean, it seems, from me! What’s his problem now?

The table wobbles and jitters for a moment, then stops, the source of the movement coming from under Marco’s spot. 

“Lastly, there’s nationalism. Everyone thought they were the best.” Shadis sniffs. “I want you all in groups. Upup!” he yells when chairs start squeaking. “I’m choosing them. Not you. Sit down.”

Chairs screech again as their owners rescind their actions. 

“Now.” He sifts through a binder on the table, finds a page, looks at us, then back at the page. Scribbles something. “I’m calling the groups out, so find yourselves and sit together. Jaeger, Armin, Springer.”

Uh oh. Connie and Sasha groan. 

“Ymir, Christa, Hoover.”

Who? I still have a chance with Sasha, right? Or Marco? No, wait, I don’t want that. Do I?

“Annie, Braun, Braus.”

Oh fuck. 

“Marco, Kirschtein—” and I swear to god he pauses— “Ostrich.”

Sasha and Connie leave to find their respective groups, dropping the temperature at our table by a few degrees. Oh, Shadis.

He suddenly looks up behind us. “Oh, Ackerman, you’re back.”

A door shuts. 

“Just join Marco’s group. Actually.” As he thinks, he stands perfectly still. “Partner up with Marco. I don’t want a group of four.”

“Okay,” Mikasa says. “Let’s sit over there.” 

“Uh, sure.” Marco shoots us a final apologetic look before leaving. 

Well, there’s fifty percent of the problem.

“I’m giving you one of the four points in MAIN. In your groups, you need to expand on your point with regards to important figures, events, agreements, anything, in bullet-point fashion.”

Tentatively, I look at my partner. He’s twirling the thick marker in his fingers. 

“There’s books up here and paper on your desks. I’ll tell you your topic when you get up here. Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir!” 

Jean puts the marker down and levels me with his eyes. “I’ll get the book.”

I nod. This is going to go great, I can smell it. I run my hands along the cool chart paper. No, this will go fine. Am I leaving sweat marks on the paper? I rub my hands on my knees. Why am I like this?

“We have nationalism.” The table rattles as Jean tosses on a textbook. “Do you have good handwriting?”

It could be worse. It could be someone I don’t know. “Uh… I don’t know.”

He frowns. “How… nevermind. Just try writing something and we’ll see.”

Write? “Write what?” 

The marker comes skittering toward me and I catch it against my stomach just before it falls off the ledge of the table. “Just write something. Don’t tell me you’re illiterate.”

I guess that was a stupid question. So I pop off the cap (blueberry scented, not bad), adjust my grip, and swipe the surprisingly intact tip on the paper without thinking much of it. Just muscle memory. 

Don't tell me you’re illiterate. 

The swoops and edges of the letters flutter like flags on the sheet. Since when was that my writing? I’ve never seen it before. Are you sure that’s your handwriting, Ostrich Jarman?

“Well, that’s better than mine,” Jean grunts. “You gonna help me or what?”

Whatever. I sidle out of my chair and place myself in Connie’s still-warn one next to him after turning it to face the table, away from Shadis. 

“Nationalism,” he mutters. He flips through the pages a few at a time, stopping every once in a while to mouth the words he’s reading. Yeah, sure glad I can help, Jean. 

On the table in front of us are Marco and Mikasa, heads together over the book as they read. Every once in a while Marco nods and reaches out to jot something down. They work so synchronously together. Well, it is Marco, after all — anyone who can deal with a guy as difficult as Jean probably knows how to work with people. Kids, too.

“Earth to Ostrich.” Jean’s hand waves past my head, its owner sporting a somehow bored yet annoyed look. “You gonna help or just stare at Marco the whole time?”

“I’m not staring at him,” I say, a little too quick, a little too harsh. 

“Yeah, can you write this down?”

His dry-looking finger ends on a wall of text with the heading Country Pride. “That’s an entire paragraph.”

“That’s crazy!” Connie yells for whatever reason from across the room. 

Jean shrugs. I sigh. “Alright.” Guess he’s done enough for today. I can get the main points out of this while he goes and jacks himself off or something. I’ll start with the definition and work from there. 

Blueberries and alcohol fill my nose, navy strokes on white dizzying my head. Copy, copy, paraphrase. What does this mean? What are its effects to society? How?

When I pull myself out, Jean is in his own daze, staring half-asleep across the room. 

“And I’m the one staring at Marco.”

He jumps a little, as if startled, and rolls his eyes. I hope they fall out. “I was just zoning out.”

“Do you have a crush on him?”

“Huh?!”

I shrug, scanning my handiwork. I don’t know a thing about Jean, but it seems possible for him. 

“No. No, I don’t. Don’t even bring that up again.”

I smile. “How come you keep looking over there?”

My question is met only with a scoff. Now Marco’s bent over the table to reach the farther parts of the paper. Reaching further, straining… He stands up to reach further. 

“If anything, it’s you that’s obsessed with him.”

The blood in my chest warms. “No way.” 

“I see the way you look at him.”

“Like a friend? Well, I guess you wouldn’t know.”

He frowns. “Very funny.” 

I follow his gaze back to Marco’s table. He wasn’t lying to me, was he? What a ridiculous question. He would tell me that he was my secret half-brother for a potato chip. Maybe he really is into Marco, from the way he bugged us back when Marco was gun training me. But Jean’s always like that, even when we were doing the garden beds with Eren and Mikasa. 

Mikasa?

Oh. 

Oh!

I’m pretty stupid! 

“Why are you smiling like that?” 

I cover my grin. This is so immature. “Are you in love with Mikasa?”

Immediately after the words hit a bloom of red erupts under his cheeks like he was hit by a paintball and he sits up as if electrically shocked. “No!” Then, carefully, “stop asking me dumbass questions.”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell.”

“I’m not—”

“I promise you I won’t tell.”

“There’s nothing to tell.” A piece of chart paper crumples under his palm. “Except maybe your lust for Marco.”

“Lust?” If only I could laugh away embarrassment. “Really? Because you’re so innocent about Mikasa.”

“You didn’t deny it.”

“Neither did you.”

In a stunning act of brilliance, we shut each other up. I try to say something. 

“Two minutes!” calls Shadis, ghosted by a trace of his usual bellow. 

Jean plays with his jaw. “How’s the thing going?” 

“I think it should be okay, I got almost everything on the page…” Is it worth the effort to argue with Jean about my perceived feelings right now? “How strict is Shadis?”

He scans the page: the word NATIONALISM in all caps at the top, assorted bullet points going down the page in two rows. “He’s fine. I think. Well, we’re done.”

What was that? Oh, you’re very welcome! Thanks for being such a supportive group member. Now we can simmer in silence as I flip through the waxy pages of this lobotomy-inducingly boring history textbook and you stare at your impossible love. 

It’s hard to explain, but the thought of those two together makes my skin crawl. Jean’s probably thinking the same thing about me and Marco. Jokes on him. 

“Kay.” Shadis claps once, one of those dry, airy claps you get by cupping your hands in a certain way. “Wrap it up. I want everyone’s papers up front. Return the textbooks, too.” 

“Right.” Jean’s voice is small amidst the sound of scraping chairs. “I got the paper.”

I nod and take the textbook, and we both get out of our seats. The front of the room is mostly obscured by a crowd; Jean rolls ahead as I linger. Did everyone come up here at once? Bum, bum, bum, goes my fingertips against the cover of the book, a tiny horse galloping its pitted and barren terrain. All alone, tiny horse. 

“Uhm.”

The voice slinks through my spine, electrifying the skin laid above; the spit I’m swallowing comes back up and touches the dry parts. Poorly suppressing a cough, I look up behind me. 

“Oh. Hey, sorry.” Bertholdt tries to chuckle. He really does look bad. “I didn’t mean to scare you. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m—” I cough again, damn it, he didn’t give me a lot of room to recover— “I’m fine. Sorry. Just surprised me.” I smile. 

“Right, um.” He purses his lips and stares at something behind me. “I just wanted to say— apologize. I wanted to apologize. If I was being pretty weird back then.” His eyes don’t stop for a minute. “Back when we first met, technically, for you at least. Uhm.” He clears his throat. “So, sorry. I was just pretty tired, that’s all.” The statement ends with a small rolling chuckle, which I return.

“No, it’s fine, we were all— I mean, I don’t really think about it. Not that you’re not, uh…” Oh god, what have I set myself up for? “Not that you’re unimportant or anything. It’s just that I don’t care.” Jesus. “I mean, I don’t not care about you. I just don’t care if you acted weird.” My smile turns pleading. “If that makes sense—”

“No, no, I definitely get it. Thanks.” He clears his throat again. 

I nod. “Okay, I’m gonna.” I motion to the book, which was thankfully locked in my arms or else I would’ve dropped it when Bertholdt spoke in my ear. His voice is so quiet, so he has to. 

“Oh, right. Yeah.” The smile he bears is too wide for the occasion. “See ya.”

I think that took years off my lifespan. Even worse, I have to walk into that crowd. Sasha, Connie, where are you? Even Jean will suffice, I’m not too scared of him anymore. I search heads and walk further. Are my steps too far apart? Am I slouching? Am I breathing weird? Where…?

A hand lands on my shoulder and the warmth is so familiar I almost don’t jump. “You lost there?” Marco! 

“No.” I straighten. “Well. Where do I put this?” 

Marco looks at the hardcover, smiles, and pries it from my grip. His hand comes closer; he just has that big grin on as he inches the book toward me and slots it somewhere right beside my head, big arm blocking out the light, pinning me, face to face. “Right there.”

Right there? Have we ever been this close together before? Have his eyes always looked at me like that?

A breathy “thank you” breaks out of me, but it’s not me talking. Marco almost beams, and it lasts forever, right here, in this little space. 

But then he puts his body away and we’re just people again, standing in a crowd of teenagers doing some shitty history assignment. Jean catches my eye from somewhere and I can’t even look away, because he’s right. 

He is so violently right that it makes me want to tear my skin into little strips and hurl them at him. 

I do like Marco. I want his strong arms and his kindness and his rough hands and warmth and the funny way he laughs. I like his hair and how he pays attention to me and his crooked teeth and the freckles on his face like little stars, so many little stars. I want to hold him in my arms with his head tucked in the crook of my neck so his pretty black hair tickles my face and tell him it’ll be okay forever and shield him from the world. Oh, god fuck. Fuck!

Please, where did all this come from?

“Well.” He inhales. “Better get back to our groups.”

“Yeah.” That’s really my voice? It’s never sounded so detached before. 

So I watch the backs of his feet and somehow find myself back in the cold chair beside Jean. Today’s face is: disgusted?

“You really are head over heels for him, huh?”

“Whatever. Jean.” What kind of name even is that. Who carries a kid in their womb for nine months to call it Jean. “Go ahead and tell everyone if it makes you feel better.”

Shadis starts talking about something in the distance. I let his words slip through me like an eel down an oil pipe. 

“Ostrich.”

What does he want now? I side-eye him. Today’s look is: well, that’s strange, there must be a malfunction in the system. He looks determined. Inspired, daresay. Leaning forward, elbows on his knees. 

“How about a deal?”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

I should know better than to wager with the devil. 

It’s bullshit. This double wingman plot of his is destined to end in disaster. It’s in the stars. 

“Help me get closer with Mikasa, and I’ll help you with Marco.” Sure, man. Then both of us will end up unhappy. 

But then again, there’s a chance, right?

No!

It’s a rigged game. Jean is much closer to Marco than I am to Mikasa, so I have to put in more work to get closer to her. 

But I’m a lot closer to Marco than he is to Mikasa, so doesn’t that even it out? Maybe he’s just that desperate? I mean, who goes to me for help? There’s better people he could ask, right? Besides, I don’t necessarily need to get close to her to get her with Jean. 

No, think about this rationally. Even if I do have feelings for Marco (ha!) I don’t need Jean to get with him. If I even want to. 

Being with Marco…?

No! No. I can’t think with my heart. That’s bad. 

“Back out if you want to. It’s not a contract deal…”

I mean…

“You know I’m risking just as much as you are, yeah? Even if I did say anything, you could do the same! Hey, are you even listening?”

What’s the worst that could happen? He outs me, I out him? No, the worst that could happen is him actually ending up with Mikasa. Poor girl. Well, if Marco likes him enough, he can’t be that bad. 

Am I rationalizing? No. Right? If I wanted to rationalize, I would. 

What’s the worst that could happen, really?

“Oi. Ossie.”

“Yes, Connie?”

“You’re staring at me weird.” 

So I am. “Sorry.” I tear my eyes down to the table. I’m here again. Mmm, canned something for dinner. Good thing it’s almost too dim to make out the details of it now because I might lose my appetite. “Just zoned out.”

“I’m just glad the day’s over,” Reiner groans. “Today’s load was rough. Just shovels and shovels of dirt.”

He looks rough, too, smudged brown everywhere, eyes turned down as if looking up would take too much effort, voice gravelly. Bertholdt looks much the same beside him, except it's harder to see the dirt pieces in his hair. That has to be uncomfortable. 

“Can’t you guys clean yourselves?” Reiner points his hollow-looking eyes at me and I flush, clutching the metal bench somewhere they won’t see. “I mean, I’m not saying you should in a rude way, I’m just wondering… if it’s possible for you to shower.” That really came out wrong. The anticipated embarrassment never comes — I’m just getting tired of this. “Because it looks really uncomfortable, and it’s… sorry.”

“No.” Reiner closes them. “No— it’s okay. I get it. But we don’t get to that often— he pinches the bridge of his nose and rubs— “unless it rains or something and we get some.”

“We can’t go near the rivers, because that’s where the zombies like to go,” Bertholdt adds quietly, like an echo. 

“Doesn’t it suck?” Connie releases an exaggerated sigh, yanking the somber mood from the conversation. “Now the room’s gonna stank.”

“Oh, shut up. We don’t like it, either.”

“Hey, you guys,” rings a familiar, warm voice, and I find myself turning like a flower faces the sun. Marco! “Why are you sitting here?”

“We’re just waiting on Sash,” Connie says. “She got distracted by a bug and lost her spot in the food line.”

Jean emerges from behind Marco. “Let’s sit down.” He puts down his food before taking the spot next to Bertholdt, making Marco sit next to me. That definitely wasn’t on purpose.

“Soo,” Jean begins. “Aren’t you going out tomorrow, Marco? Who’s in your squad again?”

“I am.” His ring flashes as he brings his hand up to his mouth. “It’s me and the girls, I think. Mikasa, Sasha, Annie. And Ossie!” He suddenly turns to me.

“Oh!” Is it obvious I’ve been staring? “That’s… cool.”

“It’s your first time going out, isn’t it?” Jean cocks his head, innocently, tauntingly. “Ossie.” The way he says it, drops the word like a bomb. 

“H’o yeah?” Reiner grunts. 

“Levi’s letting you out already?” Squeezing his fingers through the table holes, Connie bursts, “that’s so soon!”

So reassuring, Connie. “I’m sure he… has his reasons.” 

“It’s alright,” the hay devil pipes up again. “She’s with Marco, after all.”

The aforementioned snorts. “Don’t be like that, Jean. We’ll all look out after each other.” He rests his hands on the table, one near my arm, and I get a good look at it. “Besides, it’s a good beginner's mission. I can see his reasoning.”

Jean only shrugs. “You know how many things can go wrong.”

What is he getting at? Marco makes some sort of agreeable noise in his throat. Is he trying to make him worry? He’s only making me worry. And everyone else miserable. 

“Finally,” Connie says, breaking the silence. “Sash!”

I can’t see her at first behind a pillar, but she’s coming. 

Shimmying his fingers out of the table, Connie stands. “Let’s bounce.”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

“What was that all about?”

Jean and I trail the group as we make our way to the fire exit. Guess they like to eat there. It’s getting darker, reflections on the tile fading with the sunlight. Less people walk the halls now.

“What was what about?”

You know what I’m talking about, I would say, if not for the fact I’m not one hundred percent sure he does. I cut into his path so we’re almost touching as we walk. “The things you said back there.”

He keeps staring forward. “I’m just acting on our deal.”

I strain to both keep my voice down and project enough so he can hear me. “The deal I never agreed to?”

“It was just a preview.” Now he leans down. “I’m showing you what I’m made of, Ostrich. I’ve known Marco my entire life. I’m your best bet.”

The silhouettes in front of us are unyielding. Just how much do I know about Marco? Pretty much nothing, right? Actually, I know as much about him as I know about everyone else.

“You’re thinking about it, right?” He smiles. “How about this? We just give it a try for now.”

I slow my pace and he does the same. “No commitment?” What am I doing?

“No commitment.”

“I can back out if I want to.”

“Anytime.”

Okay, well, if it’s just a preview, if anything goes wrong, nothing happens. Yeah. 

“But,” says Jean, “if I show you what I got, you have to do the same.”

That makes sense. 

“How about this? As soon as we get to the fire exit — right now, Mikasa’s on watch with Christa — try to separate her from Eren. Just one time.”

“How do you know she’s with Eren?”

Exhaling, he returns to his full height. “She always is.”

This is crazy. Please, please realize this is crazy, Ostrich, you don’t even know these people! “So.” Jean looks down as I speak, hands shoved into pockets. So the ‘big secret’ is out, huh? Just like that? “Since we’re being transparent with each other. Is Eren your… competit—”

“Pshhhh. No way. Suicidal bastard. No.”

“Sounds like you’re in denial.”

“Look. If you’re gonna be doing this thing with me, we have to be on the same page. You get it?”

I scoff. “Weren’t you the one that said I’m a burden and a leech and that you didn’t care if I died at all just yesterday?”

He opens his mouth, closes it, and tries again. “That was before I realized your worth.”

“My worth as your pawn?”

“As a… business partner.”

You’re insane, boy. “No, you’re right. We should be on equal footing.”

“Exactly.”

“Apologize to me.”

“Huhp?” he huffs shortly, like a hiccup. I keep scanning his face. His jaw moves as if chewing, but there’s no gum. Then he shoots a quick glance at the group. Weighing the options in his head. “Sorry.”

“Huh?”

Forget daggers, he stares guided missiles at me. “I’m sorry, okay? For calling you worthless.”

“And…?”

He does the chewing thing again. Does it feel good to eat your words? “Everything else.”

“Deal’s off.”

“Fuck else do you want me to say?” he hisses. “I’m sorry I’m an asshole? I only told you the truth.” The last few words come out in his normal tone; he ducks down and lowers his voice. “You wanna get with Marco or what?”

“You’re not very good at this.” 

He rolls his eyes. Not even a week in and I’m already up to schemes with arguably the sketchiest, least bearable personality in the whole group over the feelings of another personality I’ve known for an entire… what, three days? 

“We’ll see.”

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

“Sit here. Sit!” Sasha smacks her hand against the grate stair, making it rattle. I wait until she stops before sitting, making sure the bottom part of my sweater covers my ass before doing so. She immediately looks overhead. “Connie!”

I didn’t notice it before, but the fire exit actually has stairs going down. It was too dark to see back then. There’s a really nice view from here, sandwiched between Sasha and Jean, if I sit sort of sideways with my back to the wall. Not a cloud is suspended in the sky; just a huge block of violet slowly fading into gray and orange and blazing into a warm heat just before above the horizon, a perfect and immiscible gradient. 

The stairs rattle as Connie stomps down to sit on the other side of Sasha. Huh. How safe is this thing, really? When’s the last time it’s been maintained? What’s the maximum weight this thing can hold before its rusty bolts come loose and we all go tumbling?

“Enjoying the sunset?” grunts Jean, who probably has to lean down in a funny way to get this close to me. 

“How far down does it go?”

He smacks his lips. “Huh?”

“The ground.” My eyes start to burn from looking at the sun so I crane my head up until the edge of the building looms over the top part of my vision. “How far away is the ground?”

“Uh, what? Like, three, four stories.”

A cold sweat condenses onto my neck. 

“What’s wrong?” He shuffles around, rattling the grill, a fragile little thing made of thin metal. 

“Stop.” It’s a wonder I can get that word out at all; every muscle is suddenly locked into place. 

He sighs. “You can’t keep staring at the sky. You need to look down at some point.”

“You’re so right,” I say to the top edge of the building.

“We’re not gonna fall.”

My throat is almost too dry to talk. “Yeah.”

“You do realize you need to look down if you wanna walk on this thing, right?”

My eyes seem to cool down a bit when I close them. “Is it high up?”

“Yeah.”

My nails scratch against the brick behind me. “I’m not gonna fall?”

“Dude, no. Just get it over with.” He gets closer again. “You have a mission, remember? You can’t back out now.”

Deep breath. Just a quick look, and we’ll be okay. One quick look—

don’t fucking move. 

“You’re fine, Ostrich. This thing’s bolted to the wall.”

“Fantastic, Jean, thanks,” I rasp, clutching the wall harder. We’re really high up. I can’t distinguish the little green dots on the ground as the emerging weeds they’re supposed to be through the grate. Guess I will seconds before my head meets the ground and my bones crush under their own weight. What’s Sasha doing? Her back is completely turned. Everyone else is on the main balcony part. What’s Marco doing? My limbs feel strained, as if they’ve been wrung out over and over again like dirty rags stuck to my frame. 

“Will you just relax?”

Can someone make him shut up? I can’t keep doing this. I’m getting nowhere. I need to move. Stand up. Stand up. 

“You’re not really helping your image here.”

I wish I can physically slap him with just a look. “Help me, then.”

He lets his neck slack, making his head drop forward a bit. “What, you want me to hold your hand, or something?”

“Just stay still.” I grab his scalp — closest to me — and straighten my legs to stand.

“Ow— hey!”

“Please stop moving.”

“What are you…”

Behind me, Sasha suddenly pffts. “What are you guys doing?”

Jean turns his head toward her, further tangling his stands in my fingers. “Damned if I know!” Tears prick the corner of his eyes. 

“Jean’s… helping me stand up.” 

He cries out. 

She quirks her eyebrow. “Ask me next time.”

Shit, did I offend her? “Sorry, Sasha.” I smile. “Can you still… help me?”

“Nah, this is funnier.” My smile drops. “Look, Cons!” She twists in place to tap his shoulder or something but ends up knocking over her fruit cup, which rolls over to the edge of the balcony. Nobody really moves as it slips underneath the railing and disappears. As it falls it slowly rotates until its abrupt demise, sugary contents spattering on the ground in a dark stain. “Aww…”

That’s going to be me. 

“Owowow!” Jean grasps my fingers. “Let go!” He’s loud enough now to be heard by the others on the main balcony. Even now some peer over the railing.

Mikasa’s looking, too. Just a passing glance, delicate like a crisp petal ready to fall at the slightest breeze. A fleeting chance. 

“Look,” I say lowly, bringing my head closer to Jean’s. I guess I kind of pulled him, too. “Mikasa's watching.”

“Ugh, so? Ow!”

“So?” This can work. This can work! “I don’t need to get closer to Mikasa.”

“If this is your way of saying— ow!”

“Shut up and listen, okay?” I glance at Sasha and Connie, who stare at us like meerkats, then back at my captive. “Look, I…” Say it. “Like an act. I can play the damsel in distress, and you play the… the knight in shining armour. Do you get it? All we have to do is convince Mikasa that you’re a decent guy.” And not the brat that you are. I grit my teeth and try to emphasize my words the same way you talk to a toddler. “And she might fall for you.”

The attack on my fingers stop; in a few seconds Jean takes his hands out of his hair entirely. He sneaks another glance at the balcony. “How? She’s not even looking anymore.”

Just think, man. “Uh.” Metal, holes, railing, stairs, beautiful sunset. “I’ll go up and say I’m going to the bathroom or something, right? And when I come back down, I’ll trip, and you catch me.”

He shakes his head even before I finish. “That’s gotta be the dumbest thing to come out of your mouth so far, and that’s saying something.”

“Do you have any better ideas, Jean? You want me to waltz up to her and hand her a business card with your name on it?”

Scoff, eye roll. Real classy. 

“Or I could not help you at all.”

“Fine!” He holds out both hands. “Fine. But if it doesn’t turn out we’re never doing your dumbshit idea again.”

Ungrateful bastard. On the bright side, I’m too pissed off to be worried about dying as I pound up the stairs, hand scraping on the dry metal railing. So what, he wants my help, but he doesn’t want to follow through on any of my plans? What, is he too good for me? What an ass. Maybe I should sabotage him so Mikasa won’t fall for him. Well, it’s not like she would do something like that anyways, right? I feel a little bad now. 

“You good there, Ossie?” Reiner calls. I’m on the main platform now and he sits with his back against the banister, away from the sun, with a root beer or something in a can which is nearly totally engulfed in his large hand. Bertholdt is beside him as always, legs pulled up to his chest as he watches the ground keenly. “Jean wasn’t bugging you, was he?”

Huh? My temper melts through the metal gauze. “No, I’m alright.”

“He’s a rascal, that one,” Reiner grunts. Disturbed of his observations, Bertholdt covers his mouth and looks the other way. Yeah, he’s a rascal, for sure. 

“Yeah. Well, I’m just gonna go in for a while.”

Reiner shrugs. 

“For— okay.” I swing through the door. Guess I don’t need that excuse anymore. Halfway through the darkened corridor the door slams shut behind me, and the air goes still, willing me to go go still, too. No matter what time of day it is, it’s always pitch dark in here. Always the same sound of a distant waterfall, the same dusty smell. Makes me want to lose my feet and melt into it. Disappear. Just a vapour among vapours. I don’t really want to die. I’d just like to become a part of this corridor. 

The inner door clicks, the sound echoing off the painted concrete walls like a scream, and the solace rips away. A sliver of light breaches the ground and walls as my heart nearly tears out of its vessels. 

Shit. 

The person doesn’t stop approaching and soon the inner door clicks shut. Guess they didn’t see me. Say something. It’s too dark to see and too narrow to avoid them. 

Something blocks my voice from coming out and the panic swirls up inside with no way of escape. Say something. Say somethi—

The fateful moment of impact. The person is big and wears something soft but not soft enough to cushion their greater momentum against me. 

“Ah!” I’m pushed back but compose myself with a few skittering steps. 

“Oh!”

Marco paces back. “Holy— is that you, Ossie? Are you okay?”

“Marco.” Thank god it’s him. That could have been anyone and it’s Marco. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

“What are you doing, standing in the dark like that?”

Pretending I’m dead? His voice rings until it fades. “I was just… thinking. Sorry. You wanted to get through?”

“Yeah, just going out… you okay in here?”

“Yeah.” I just said I was. “Uh, actually, I’ll head out, too.”

“After you.”

Right. The thought of Marco’s body against my own suddenly plagues me. No. Behave. We walk silently and the hall is once again disturbed by light as I push open the outer door, holding it open for Marco. He smiles and nods before passing through and somehow that’s even better than a thank-you. I grin at the back of his red sweater. 

“Oh.” Reiner points. “Don’t forget the stick.”

Riiight. I tear away from his trail to put the stick in its rightful spot before following Marco back to mine, now a ways behind, iron grip on the handrail. 

From the stairs, Jean meets my eye, and I nod. Two more steps and I have to fall. Now that it’s come to this, how confident should I be that Jean will actually catch me? I descend another step. Fuck, I have to do this now. Yet again I don’t think about the consequences until it’s time to do it. He’s expecting it, bristling, bunching up his legs. Cool. 

It’s either this or I back down, right? There’s no contract. I don’t really have to do it. It’s such an idiot move, anyway, even if it means admitting that he was right this whole time. It’s only gonna make me look stupid. 

I hook one heavy foot behind the other and yelp at the metal grate hurtling toward me and brace for an impact that never comes. My face ends up buried in soft, red cloth. 

Wait, red? Isn’t Jean wearing black today?

“Ossie? You sure you’re okay?” asks Marco. 

Jean is standing behind my benefactor and stares stupefied over his shoulder at me, arms spread wide, braced to catch an object vaguely shaped like me, one step off. Too slow. 

Fuck. 

⊹˚₊‧ ───────── ☾ ────────── ‧₊˚⊹

jesus christ the number of timeskips i use. maybe 10k words was a bad idea for a single chapter. too late

its annoying because google docs can be set to american or british english. and i use canadian english which is like a malformed and neglected child of both. so its a lose/lose no matter what i use. "colourized" how do you like that huh. its okay though because i usually know what i'm talking about.

final notes: thanks for reading as usual <33

masterlist 5 - invert umbrella

[red-high-tops]

So I was going through the wiki looking for a specific piece of info on bakugou’s page and

aND-

HELLO??? BRO??? WHAT HAPPENED WHILE I WAS GONE. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED. EVERY TIME I LEAVE I STG-

Please someone tell me this is an accident. Please someone tell me there wasn’t a leak that made it seem like crusty musty dusty man just might’ve killed him. Pls no. I’m afraid for my heart and also everyone in a 5-mile radius when midoriya shows up.

[onenicebugperday]

@thechillsquid submitted: I have no clue what the hay-diddle-diddle this lil thing was but I accidentally set a book on it, so lowkey it was dying in this photo :( but it was still a very fascinating little creature  (Found in [removed], please remove location, thank you)

Oh no! Poor little fellow. RIP. Based on general body shape and wing venation, looks like one of the weirdo robber flies in Leptogastrinae! Cool find.......very sorry they were mangled :(

[rpausandwhatifs]

There’s This Guy|| Elliot Drabble

@danhowell-rp

@felixpierp

@shanedawson-rp

Elliot had been fighting it for so long, that it was causing him to lose sleep. He didn’t want to bring it up in family therapy because maybe he could learn how to work through his problems without a trained mental health professional in the room. It wasn’t the best decision, but he had walked himself out of his room and down the stairs. Making sure on the way down that the girl was still outside.

Persi had been doing this futile assignment her therapist gave to her to read a book about personality disorders and anxiety to help her answer her questions and move along in her sessions to a point where she wouldn’t need to take them. They were visiting in London with Bryony, but the three parents had stepped out for a little while and trusted that the two were old enough to look after themselves. A beautiful day, she had her hair out of her ponytail, allowing herself to relax in order to get settled into the book. Criss-cross applesauced under the tree, she viewed the pages and started to fill her head with the words, her long orange locks blowing in the wind. It was a rare and gentle moment for her. 

Elliot watches from the sliding door and begins to think about what he’s about to do. He’s basically giving her (and Persephone) cannon fodder, and he has a hard enough time as it is trying to figure out all of this out. Who knows? It might even be a passing thing but he wanted to test it on someone other than his parents, who he felt like would be uncomfortable at best, and probably disgusted worst-case scenario. Plus, Persi is gay(?), right? It won’t feel weird if he is, but it might be the person; you can’t help who you love, right?

The boy was so tangled in his thoughts that his saunter through the grass made him trip on his own awkward feet, exclaiming before tumbling in front of her. He sighed and stared at the sky a little longer on his back, his entire train of thought derailed.

Look, Elliot! It’s your cousin Harlan!

Baby cousin! Gimme a hug!

...

H-heyy Harlan...coming to babysit?

Yeah, but first I gotta finish my homework, your parents aren’t leaving for a little while...c’mere I’m not a stranger gimme a hug, cuz!

...

Ugh! Your sister snuck out again *sighs*...

*shrugs* You can call Papa and Otosan, and then come back, we can play a game- Oooo! Dibs on the good controller!

Du är så lat! Just go upstairs and get the other on.

The-then I’ll lose...

Then wrestle me for it! Show me how strong you are!

Y-You’re so big! I hate wrestling...

Why do you hate wrestling?

Because Persi is too big and she hurts my arm...

Do you like..wrestle with other boys?

Ew, no...why would I do that?

Cus sometimes boys wrestle! I wrestle with Reiner and stuff.

Again. Not me. Also huge. And ew. 

Okej! Jag fattar!..And stop saying “ew.”

Stop talking other than English.

Make me...*looks at him, raises brows* Jag slår vad om att du inte kommer

Ha-harlan..

Tell me why it’s gross to wrestle boys.

...

“Ellie,” Persi said, “Yo, why are you being weird?...Helllooo!” 

Elliot snapped out of it and turned his head to look at his sister, “Huh?”

“The fuck?!”

“Papa told us not to curse,” he replied, turning his head toward her.

“I don’t care. You came out here, ate shit on my patch of grass, then stared at the clouds...*sighs* What do you want?”

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

“*scoffs* Oh that’s easy! You were born. Next question.”

“Noo! Persi...I-I-I’m...I think I’m a bigot.”

“Bigot? Do you even know what that word means?”

“I don’t like people...right?”

“No, dumbass-”

“I’m serious, Persi! Stop! I think I have a problem with sombeody...”

“Oh! Is someone picking on you?” she finally caught on, straightening and narrowing her eyes.

“Well...It’s hard to explain...”

“Is it a teacher? Another kid at school?..School bus?” she asked sitting up, feeling her chest drop that someone might be bullying her baby brother.

“He’s older than you...” he says sheephisly.

“Ew! Did you say something to Dad or Dan?”

“N-No...” he feels like the world is closing in on him.

“Some fucking perv is diddling you and I have to say something. Ellie this is serious shit, how long has this been going on? Do you know where he lives?”

“N-No! I-I-It’s something wrong with me...” he timidly tries to explain, finally sitting up and leaning over and points to his chest, urging his sister to keep her voice down.

“There’s nothing wrong with you. What he’s doing is wrong and that fucko is about to go to jail!” Persi exclaimed, shutting her book and starting to stand up when Elliot grabbed her arm in attempt to get her to sit back down, then jerking away from him, “NO ONE FUCKS WITH MY BABY BROTHER! Come on, we’re telling Dad.”

“STOP!” he yelled, his voice cracked, “It’s not like that! I don’t think I like...act like a normal boy, or I don’t think I like boys like Harlan or if I’m supposed to grow up like...I WANNA WRESTLE WITH HIM AND I DON’T KNOW HOW!”

“...W-...Is Harlan diddling you?” Persi whipped around to face her brother, the disgust on her face, “Wait, what? I dunno what you’re trying to say...Is he making you uncomfortable or touching you in the no-no zone?”

“N-No, no! Nothing like that! I just...I guess...can you like teach me how to wrestle with Harlan?”

Persi was completely perplexed by her brother's request, "Huh? What? Why? And why Harlan specifically?"

"Well if you were here that one time he was babysitting me he wanted to wrestle and I said ew and he told me it was bad to say ew to wrestling with other boys."

"Wait, like how him and Reiner wrestle? Like how boys just kinda roughhouse? Why do you say ew? That's weird."

"'Cus it's the first thing I say when he says it, but it's not how I felt. I dunno why I said it, and that's why I said that something is wrong with me and one of my friends called me a bigot because I don't like touching boys, but I like touching boys, I just don't know how."

Persi sat back down slowly and attempted to digest what her brother was explaining. She watched him try to use as much as his sixth grade vocabulary can muster. It made sense enough that his friends weren't helping him much, but the whole thing with Harlan wasn't clicking for her. Her eyes looked to the sky as she pushed her hair back and sighed, "You...Do you think you're not tough enough?" she asked.

"That's, like, part of it, but my friends don't wrestle, and I don't hang out with like big boys like Reiner or Harlan."

"So you want to learn how to wrestle because you want to wrestle with Harlan to be tougher?" she asked carefully.

"Kinda. I wanna learn how to wrestle so that I can only wrestle with Harlan," he admits with confidence.

"So the word you were looking for is probably homophobe. Just thought I let you know. However, if I think you're saying what I think you're saying then I really think you need to talk to Dad or Dan."

"I don't think they would understand-OWwwwwah!"

"Fucking idiot! Our parents are gay grown up boys! Gay means you like boys!" she bursted, extending a leg out to kick his, "You're not a bigot, though, and you're not a homophobe. Thank God."

"So you're calling me gay?" he asked, sitting up on his elbows.

"No. I'm calling the feeling you have towards Harlan gay...do you like girls?" she corrected him then asked swiftly as to not cause any awkward tension.

"I mean yeah, who doesn't?"

"Bigots and gay boys."

"So I'm a bigot," he nods and offers his answer, causing the girl to throw her foot down into his chest and knocking him back, "OWwwah! Get your dirty foot off me! This is my Versace shirt Otosan bought me!"

"How dumb are you?" she asked with a bite.

"Dumb enough to lay in the grass and think your foot is dirtier than the actual dirt I'm sitting in."

"Maybe you are a bigot," she scoffed, but trying not to be too mean on her innocent sibling.

"Seriously, Persi! What do I do?" Elliot whined, "Tell meeee!.."

"Alright, alright! Stop crying...Well. Do you wanna wrestle for real or do you wanna like they do on TV?" she asked.

"There's a difference?"

"Oh my god- yes! Absolutely!" she exclaimed.

"What's the difference? D-Don't show me!.."

"Uh, Reiner did competition wrestling for a while...And that's like sumo where you're trying to make him tap out or go outside the circle. The one on TV, which is fake, by the way, is a lot more slamming and jump moves and got some interesting drama," she said with a smile.

"Who's cuter?" Elliot asked innocently.

"What's your thing? Like why do you wanna wrestle Harlan?"

"He's..big..?"

"Not enough! I like Reiner and he's big. Do you like being held or do you like bonding with him or something like that? You understand that these are contact sports, right?" she folded her arms.

"Oh...ew."

"Why ew?"

"Because my friends and I don't play contact sports."

"Well then you're just gonna have to be different. Teach them and see if they like it."

"Again, I only wanna do it with Harlan."

"Stop dancing around why you like Harlan so much and just tell me."

"Uhh...cus..I-I'm not supposed to. He's our cousin. You can't have a crush on family."

"He's not our family technically...not blood anyway."

"What?"

"That's why I'm not completely grossed out. See, you're old enough now so I can tell you."

"What? That I'm adopted?"

"Harlan is, actually..."

"Wait...really?"

"Well, technically. Harlan has a mommy, but she couldn't take care of him, so Uncle Felix and Uncle Shane adopted him."

"Whoaa...but is it still wrong?"

"Yes, because he's too old. He's got 10 years on you, easily."

"Well can I still tell him how I feel?"

"Absolutely! He’ll still probably answer more of your questions, too."

Elliot was finally able to relax, pushing his hair back from his forehead and let it flop back down. Persi started to pick up her book and opened it to try and find where she left off. He watched her, sucking his teeth, causing her to flip the book and inhale sharply, widening her eyes at him. "Teach me to wrestle!" he whined, "And stop hurting my arm! C'mon! We fly back to the states tomorrow and I wanna try it with him."

"Ugh! Fine!" Persi said, moving her book and getting on her knees, "Get up, just like this." 

Elliot moves as his sister puts her hair in a ponytail, "Alright! What do I do?" he asks, taking a heavy huff to prepare himself.

"Mentally prepare yourself to be grabbed...Physics dictates that your lower torso is the center of gravity so he's gonna grab your torso to get you off your feet and knock you on your ass."

"Ew-OWwwaah!" he exclaimed at Persi slamming her palm into his forehead, followed by her bonking him on the top.

"Stop. Saying. Ew. Open your knees and brace yourself," Persi said.

"H-How else do I prepare?" he asked, his shoulders still wound up. She puts her hands on his shoulders, trying to roll them.

"You've gotta loosen up. You can think clearer if your muscles aren't tense...What did it for you? With Harlan?" she asked, showing him to shake out his nerves.

"Arms...I-wow!...I like-yeah- I like his arms,” Elliot surprised himself with how automatic the response flew from his lips, then realizing how his heart felt to say it. 

“That’s normal. And yeah he’s got nice arms, makes his hugs feel like you can trust him,” Persi said. 

“When do you not trust a hug?” Elliot asked with a raised eyebrow.

“If you’ve been heartbroken, you’re me, or their energy is wayy off. Now, when I approach you I’ll try and go easy but I want you to try push back and pin me to the ground,” Persi explained, making sure to lock eyes with her brother, and get herself in position to tackle him with a small expectation he’d go down like he always does, “Ready? It’s gonna happen fast.” She recieves a nod, but just before he pushes her shoulders a little.

“Hey..uhh Persi?” he asked nervously.

“Hm? What?” she asked, popping her head up.

“I’d trust a hug from you, Persephone, too! Also, uh, thanks for not being whole jerk...” he admitted with a little smile. 

Persephone looked at the boy and grimaced, but Persi felt like she might well up with tears because she really didn’t think she was a good sister, let alone he could trust with Persephone and everything, but she figures they should since their circumstances are unique.

[One Week Later]

“So...how was England?” Harlan asked, sitting on the couch, leaning back and flipping through something to watch as he settled into the easiest $200 he’s ever made. Persi had to go to work for the night and since her parents didn’t know when she’d be back (or if she was coming back that night), Harlan could use the down time and the money for when he went back to school after summer break.

“It was cool as usual, my mom, dad, and Otosan went out more by themselves so Persi and I got to hang out,” he started, watching the other’s sweatshirt-clad arms rest by his head, while he chose something to watch, settling by adjusting his hips into the couch. For the first time, Elliot was sweating, and not because it was too hot or because he rarely got in trouble, but because of the boy’s dark brown hair lazily gelled on top into a neat quiff, the soft curve of his body molded into the couch, making his sweatshirt ride up a little, “Uhh...how’s college?”

“UHm...I’m really busy. Was doing a lot of work and then I had a few projects. I like the library up there. The events are pretty fun. I was a little surprised freshman year but they don’t..do much for sophomores,” he said, looking at him with a sigh then furrowed his brows when he saw Elliot, “You okay? You feeling alright?”

“I think I like boys...” Elliot says, not realizing how quickly he jumped into the topic, “But I-I’m new a-and...Persi said for me to ask you for some advice.”

Harlan tried to understand what he was saying and sat up a little more, “Elliot...you know I’m too old for you, right?...I didn’t mean to make you feel nervous or uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, I know...but uhh..you made me realize it, so in a way you’re responsible  for making me like this,” Elliot started, getting a little more comfortable and uncrossing his arms, slinking into the couch with him.

“Oh, am I really?..What’d I do?” Harlan chuckled lightly, tilting his head up and shaking his head a little in disbelief.

“I learned how to wrestle because I wanted to wrestle with you. Also, I sorta learned how homophobic it was to say ew all the time.”

“Ahh...so your sister is a good influence on you...” he said with a nod, smiling still to keep from spilling over with a giggle, he wiped his mouth and scratched his little hairs growing along his jawline just clustered enough to say he was trying to grow a beard. 

“Yeah well, sometimes she’s good. I just wish sometimes was a little more often, but she’s still my sister and I love’r!” Elliot says pridefully, then backing up a little when Harlan looks at him, “Uhh..uhm yeah, she said this means I’m starting to go through puberty, but I gotta ask my dads about it.”

“Well I’ll tell you right now, it sucks, like pojke gör det jävla suger...enjoy being young, Elliot. Revel in that innocence for as long as you can...but if I heard you correctly, you said you wanted to wrestle me?” Harlan caught him before he wavered off and downplayed his gesture. 

“Uhh y-yeah, but I just wanted to learn because I like how...uhh..strong you are~ and uhh it feels really nice to get hugs from you,” Elliot continued, not expecting him to pick up on it, his sweat getting a little worse as he struggled to look the boy in the eye that was staring him down. 

“Bluush! Är du inte en söt?~..There’s nothing good on anyway..so get up, lemme see what you got! I’ll go easy on you as long as you’re not weird about it, okay?” Harlan mentioned as he sat up, slapping the boy’s knee as he got up.

“Uhh I’ll-I’ll try..maybe we should have a code word for if it’s too much?” Elliot asked, slowly getting up as he felt like he was about to throw up, but he could practically imagine living in the boy’s arms. Harlan rolling his sleeves up and standing over him just caused his knees to weaken just a little more. He didn’t remember him being this big, or brawny, or smelling so good.

“HOw aboouutt...hm..what’s your favourite colour?” he asked, taking in the boy’s obvious hesitation at approaching him.

“Black,” he answered quickly.

Harlan rolled his eyes at his selection and shook his head, then asking again, “What’s your second favourite colour?”

“Why doesn’t black work?” he quickly asked back.

“Too many hard consonants. If you can’t breathe, you can’t get your lips together to create blah noise and the ack is just gonna sound like you straining against me. Pick another colour,” he quickly explained as he tried to fashion a ring out of some pillows and throws.

“Oh. Orange then. I like how it sounds! OORRaannnggggEEE....”Elliot added, which made Harlan giggle and nod, shuffling over towards the circle in the middle of the room, “Oh hey can you just talk to me about how this whole puberty thing goes? I really don’t feel all that jazzed about asking my parents..I’m their baby and all..”

“Maybe later, cus I wanna talk to them first to make sure it’s okay. Especially since you have this little crush on me, men jag berättar inte för dem om det...” Harlan said shaking out his limbs and getting on his knees while he rolled his neck, “That’ll be just between us boys.”

Elliot got a wave of excitement and anxiety, a little frustrated that he spoke in Swedish over whatever the last part of the sentence was, but he thinks he’s not gonna tell his parents. It made him wonder, but it also made him worry. Was he just not going to tell them right away? Was Persi onto something about Harlan being a perv? His head was swirling and he was both scared and confused, which Persi told him he needed to clear his head before he engaged in a fight or any sort of activity like this. “Yeah..uhh yeah..sure..” He awkwardly gets on his knees and stares at Harlan before thinking of something that might calm him down, “H-Hey, Harlan?”

“Yeah? What’s up?”

“Uhh before we start..c-c..would it be too much to ask for a hug?” he asked, shy and timid and feeling the full weight of his question despite what he’d just explained. 

“Sure. Anytime. Never saw harm in a hug,” he says brightly and pulls his forearms in as he embraces him. It was so surreal to think that Elliot looked to him as such an influence. Elliot squeezed against the boy and sighed a huge deep sigh, allowing his body to relax into his. Harlan rubbed his back a little, feeling him relax, giving him a soft kiss on the top of his head before giving him a playful shove, “Alright, now come on, cuz! Ge mig allt du har!“

[branching-paths]

Of Eggs, Fireworks and, Mud

AN; Ok, this is in the drafts/queue thing 1/6, It’s set to post next week at this time, I hope it works, if it does I’ll delete this AN, this is really just for me

 Thorin wasn't kidding when he said first light. Someone kicked my leg, flinging my eyes open. I shot my hand out from under my torso and pulled who ever kicked me off their feet. Of course, this all happened at once, before the poor soul had even pulled away his toes, wait.... Toes?     "Sorry Bilbo," I said as he hit the ground. I sat up and blinked sleep out of my eyes. It took a moment for the hobbit to respond.     "How in the Shire did you do that," He asked. He sat up holding his head. I shrugged.     "Reflexes, by Durin, is it even dawn yet?!"     "Barely-"     "Stop chatting you two," Thorin yelled from behind the fire, where he was destroying breakfast. That's when I sprang to my feet and stalked over to Thorin.     "What are you doing," I asked. He frowned up at me, his mouth half open.     "Making food, what else would I be doing, burning the hobbit's foot hair?!" Bilbo looked at his feet then back at Thorin, a hint of bemusement in his eyes. Thorin pointed a spatula at me, wagging it slightly. "You two are going to saddle the ponies." I laughed, and wiped a fake tear from my eye.     "Wake someone else Hobbit, I must save the food," I said, getting ready to take the spatula from Thorin. Bilbo glanced around the camp, then walked towards Bofur. Thorin frowned at me and drew the spatula back towards the pan he held over the fire.     "I can cook," He growled, a smirk playing at the corner of his lips. I snorted and crouched next to him, my hand extended.

    "No you can't, now give it here," I said, giving him a look. He ignored me, and that's when I pounced, quite literally. Thorin dropped the spatula and frying pan over the coals and grabbed my stomach, throwing me over him. I landed on my back and growled as Thorin gave a triumphant smirk, returning to the frying pan. I punched his arm and he dropped the frying pan back onto the coals. I shoved him over and grabbed the pan, flipping the eggs that Thorin had yet to burn.     "Oi, give that back," Thorin said, grabbing for the pan with a smile on his face. I turned my back to him, holding the pan in front of me so he couldn't grab it.     "No way, these will be too burned to do anything if I let you cook!" I elbowed him in the chest, shoving him away. Thorin chuckled and grabbed my shoulder, turning me around and grabbed the pan again. "NO I WON'T SUFFER ANOTHER BURNT EGG!"     "I don't burn them, I make them brown on the edges!" I put my foot on his chest and shoved him away, holding the pan away from him again. He reached, a big, un-kingly grin on his face, a chuckle deep in his throat. Gandalf cleared his throat, and our head turned towards the company, who were looking at us with bemused looks. I lowered my foot as Thorin lowered his hands and moved back towards the coals. Fili looked at me, then at Thorin, blinking a few times as his eyes moved between us.     "Who are you and what have you done with Thorin," He asked at last. I chuckled as I removed an egg from the pan. Thorin shook his head and stood up, brushing himself off. Thorin turned to me and gave me a half smirk half frown.     "I do not burn anything," He said as he walked past. I snorted and dumped another egg into the frying pan. How Bombur had managed to keep over four dozen eggs from breaking for four days was beyond me. Kili sat down next to me, smirking. Crap...     "Good morning," He said. He sighed and looked over a stick that was obviously bare. He poked the coals with it until it was charred, then he twirled it in his hands. "Is it always going to be like that," He asked as he twirled the stick. I looked sideways at him, then back to the pan where I was scrapping a piece of egg off.     "Is what going to be like what," I asked. Kili grunted and looked at his stick again.     "You and Thorin always fighting like that," He said. I turned to him and held the hot spatula not even an inch in front of his nose. Kili's fingers fumbled and he dropped the stick as he stared at the spatula.     "First off, that will never happen, and even if it does, it won't be like that," I growled at him. I lowered the spatula and he slumped as he let out the breath he was holding. A few minuets later, I picked up the last egg and wondered if there were any other eggs in there. I peered into the bag and smiled. At the bottom were some fireworks, pretty big fireworks. I cracked the last egg and pulled out the fireworks, making sure nobody saw me switch them from one bag to the other. Everyone else was saddling their ponies, so nobody saw me. I shoved the fireworks into my sack and returned to the fire just as everyone came back from saddling their ponies. Fili, Kili and Bilbo were deep in conversation, laughing every so often. I knew instantly that nothing good could come out of it. Everyone grabbed an egg and slurped it down, Bombur taking the one that I just set on the plate, so he ate with much yelling, we ate with much choking. We set out the fire and mounted our steeds and rode east again. Around noon, when we were walking to give the ponies a break, Fili and Kili burst into song, one that they made when they were little.          "We're off to ride the dragon, the great big dragon named Smag," They shouted. "Because, because, because, BEECAAAUSSSEE, we want to know what it's like to fly! DA-DEE-DA-DEE-DUM-DEE-DA! WE'RE OFF TO RIDE THE DRAGON, THE GREAT BIG DRAGON NAMED SMAG!"     "I think you mean slay," Thorin yelled when they finished. Fili and Kili looked at each other, shrugged and started up again.     "We're off to slay the dragon, the evil big dragon named Smag, because, because, because, because, BEECAAUSSEE! HE STOLE ALL OF UNCLE'S GOLD! DA-DEE-DA-DEE-DUM-DEE-DA! WE'RE OFF TO SLAY THE DRAGON, THE EVIL BIG DRAGON NAMED SMAG!" The laughter I had been holding back was out now, and I wasn't the only one.     "A wonderful presentation boys," Gandalf said. "But I believe that you are mispronouncing the name-"     "It's meant to be mispronounced, wizard," I shouted. "When they first found out about it, neither of them-" Fili and Kili had walked beside me and clamped their hands over my mouth.     "Don't pay her any mind," Kili said.     "Taking care of Thorin and Oin the past few days has made her brain a bit befuddled," Fili added. Thorin rolled his eyes and turned his head so he could look at the company. Fili's eyes widened and he let go of my mouth. He ran ahead to cover Thorin's but he said it first.     "They couldn't pronounce anything when they were little, and it's another mockery towards him, so we didn't press."     "We could pronounce things, couldn't we Fee," Kili yelled, removing his hands from my mouth. Fili bit his lips and looked sheepishly at his younger brother. Kili frowned and waited until Fili was next to him again. "We could, right?"     "Not exactly," Fili said at last. I gave a big cheeky grin and took a deep breath.     "Hey Thorin, do you remember when they mispronounced Nork's name, and he turned purple," I yelled. Everyone laughed, making Fili and Kili bury their reddening faces in their pony's manes.     "No need to embarrass them further, Myrin," Thorin yelled back, a smirk on his face. My grin widened.     "What about you, may I embarrass you," I asked, trying not to laugh. I saw Thorin stiffen, turn around, his teeth grinding.     "No you may not," He growled. Of course you can, is what I heard. I clapped my hands together and rubbed them.     "Alrighty then," I said. Thorin turned back around and settled back into marching next to his pony. "Once upon a time, deep in the heart of Erebor, there were four terrible dwarflings! Their names were Thorin, the crown prince, Frerin, his younger brother, Dis, the most lovely, and Myrin, the second worst, only to Thorin!"     "Myrin, knock it off, or so help me," Thorin yelled. I paid him no mind.     "Lets see now, what story should I tell..."     "Amad was a trouble maker," Kili asked.     "Must be where you get it from," Fili said.     "I know," I shouted. "One little Myrin's sixth birthday, she had to sing a song. Now, I know a few of you think that the birthday person should be sung to, but she had to sing to everyone else. So she sang the one song she knew, the Man in the Moon." Everyone took a collective gasp.     "You sang what," Bofur shouted.     "That's not a song that a small lady dwarfling should ever sing," Gloin added.     "What's Man in the Moon," Bilbo asked. Bofur and I took a deep breath and sang.     "Theeerrrreeee'sss aaaann, inn. There's an inn, there's a merry old inn," Bofur shouted.     "Beneath an old gray hill," I added.     "And there they brew a beer so brown that the man in the moon HIMSELF came down, one night to drink his fill," We finished together. As we caught our breath to sing the second verse, everyone shouted threats.     "If you sing another sentence, I'll skin you alive," Dori shouted, which was the most threatening thing I had ever heard him say. Ori looked at his older brother shocked.     "The ostler has a tipsy cat," Bofur continued.     "That plays a five-string-fiddle," I added again.     "And up and down he saws his bow."     "Now squeaking HIGH!"     "Now purring low.... Now sawing in the middle! Now the cat with the fiddle played 'Hay diddle, diddle' a jig that will wake the dead! He squeaked and he sawed and he quickened the tune, while the land-lord shook the man in the moon."     "IT'S AFTER THREE HE SAID!" I ducked as someone threw a pine-cone at me. Bofur took a deep breath to add a third verse, but Gandalf shouted.     "Master Dwarf, if I hear another verse, so help me I'll turn you into a mouse!" That shut Bofur up with a very mouse like squeak. Kili frowned at me.     "That wasn't very embarrassing, Myrin," He said, rubbing his stubble. I smiled again as I held up my hands.     "Oh I haven't even gotten to the best part," I shouted. "Thorin taught me the song!" Another collective gasp, and all eyes moved to Thorin, who was trying to scowl at me, but it wasn't quite working with a smile taking over his face.     "First off, I was only nine," He defended. "So don't go pinning this on me!"     "Who taught it to you," Dori shouted. Thorin opened his mouth, then shut it back up. "Come one, give us a name!" Thorin shook his head.     "Doesn't matter who taught it to me," He said with a snort.     "But you taught it to me, and that's what matters," I shouted. Thorin attempted to glare at me again. His face was so funny, half scowl and half smirk, that I had to lean on Lakita to stay walking. The glare from his face disappeared, replaced by an evil smirk.     "Better then the dress," He snarled. My laughter disappeared as my head snapped up.     "What was that," I asked, wiping my eye.     "My tenth birthday, the one you weren't supposed to go to, but we smuggled you in-"     "DON'T TELL THEM!" Fili looked at me, Kili cocked his head to the left. Bilbo lifted his brow.     "Tell us what," Bilbo asked. Thorin grinned at me, looking positively evil at this point.     "Myrin hated dresses when she was little, so to sneak her into my birthday party, we shoved her into a huge, puffy, pink dress that she simply wanted to-ACK!" I bowled into Thorin, covering his mouth with my hand.     "You. Will. Not. TELL THEM!" Thorin narrowed his eyes at me, and too late did I realize what he was doing. He launched his hands to my sides and started to tickle me. I shooed away his arms and backed up.     "I believe that Lori drew a picture of you, actually," Thorin said. Ori perked up and walked around his pony.     "So that's who that was," He shouted. He pulled out a notebook and flipped through the pages. I ran towards Ori, grabbing for the notebook, but Nori snatched it out of his brother's hand, and threw it towards Bofur, who was at the back of the line. I ran towards him, only to get there the same second he threw it at Fili, who threw it to Thorin. I'm not sure what my face looked like, but I think it was like a look of pure terrorized embarrassment. Thorin flipped through the pages and smiled softly.     "I forgot how much of an adorable little imp you were," He cooed. He handed the notebook to Dwalin, who smirked at it, then smirked evilly at me. He handed it to Balin as I pulled  my hood up. I was going to kill Thorin, embarrassing me like this. This wasn't nearly as bad as what I did to him, it was worse... The notebook went through the entire company, Fili and Kili sent out an "AWE!" in unison, then handed it to Bilbo. He smiled and handed it to the next member of the company, sending me a look of pity. Was it really that bad? At last, the notebook made it's way to me, and I peered at the portrait in horror. The picture was of me sleeping at a table, my head gently resting on it. I was in the horrid dress. Four tears with ruffles made up from my hips to the floor, or in this case just past my toes that almost reached the floor from my spot on the chair. From my hips to my shoulders was skin tight, that I remember. I had complained that I would die if I had to last another hour in it. It had sparkles all over it, and my arms were covered in a satin-like fabric, a band of ribbon in the middle of my upper arm, and the middle of my forearm. I had a little play tiara that had fallen off into my piece of cake, where my face was resting. My hair, that had been in a bun, had fallen out and was also in the cake.The boots that I had worn had fallen off, and were piled under my feet. But that wasn't it, oh no. In the back of the picture, all three Durins were looking at me, and a little caption above them said, "Should we let her sleep?" I smiled at it and shut it gently. The horrified expression that was on my face had faded into a smile. I tied the knot and gave it back to Ori, who smiled at me.     "I still hate that dress," I said. Everyone laughed.

    "I think I'll take a walk about," I said, standing up. We had stopped at dusk, and I had just finished another bowl of potato stew. I grabbed my satchel, where the fireworks were held, and sighed.     "Would you like some company," Bilbo asked, setting down his bowl. I squinted at him as I shook my head.     "I'ld like some.... uh.....girl time, please," I said. One second, all eyes were on me, the next they all were clearing their throats, and avoiding my gaze. The male spices, I have found, is weird. I shrugged and walked into the forest. The second I was out of eyesight, I opened up my satchel and peered at the explosives I had hidden. There were a few little ones, and one that was about as big around as my forearm. That, I decided, would be the grand finale. I climbed the tree that was closest to me and jumped back, from tree to tree, to the camp. I perched right above Dwalin's sitting spot and got ready with my flint. I pulled out the smallest and inched out along the branch, so I was right above Dwalin now. Hugging the branch with my legs, I set the firework in the fork of the branch and struck my flint. The wick caught and zoomed out into the middle of the camp, going off with a loud whistle. I pulled out the next one as everyone ducked for cover.     "What in Durin's name was that," Dwalin bellowed. I set the firework in the fork again and struck the flint. It zoomed off again, sending a bright butterfly over the fire.     "Are those fireworks," Bilbo hollered from behind his log with Fili and Kili. I pulled out the next one and shoved it into the fork.     "Someone stole my fireworks," Gandalf shouted. I hesitated as I struck the flint. No wonder these were well hidden!     "NORI," Everyone shouted.     "I didn't steal nothin'," Nori shouted. He poked out from behind a tree. "Besides, how can I be down 'ere, when ther goin' off up ther'!" I struck the flint, and the firework caught, but it didn't zoom out, like it normally would. I lifted myself up and pushed the firework out of the tree. It exploded under me, a bright shower of blue, green and red sparkles, all over Dwalin's seat. I pulled out the last of the fireworks and set it in the smoldering fork of the tree. It teetered a little, so I had to set another branch on it. Ori crawled out from behind Bombur, who had a pot on his head.     "Is it over," He asked quietly.     "NOOOO!" I shouted, lowering my voice. I lit the last firework and scurried back to the tree trunk. It zoomed out, leaving a huge smoke plume in it's wake. The force of it knocked me back against the tree further. I didn't see how the firework exploded, but I saw what it was. A horse pranced out of the plume of showers and danced around before exploding in blue showers. I grabbed my satchel and jumped back to the tree I had climbed up. I climbed down and walked back into the camp, where everyone was emerging from their hiding places. Thorin sheathed his sword, and glared at me. I frowned at him as I cocked my head.     "What," I asked.     "You set those off," He growled.     "Set what off?" I walked over to Lakita, who was cowering with her paws over her eyes. I set my sack down next to her and rubbed her head.     "The fireworks," Dwalin growled. I turned around and frowned at him.     "No I didn't," I growled back.     "Then tell me, why are you covered in ash and soot," Gandalf asked. I looked myself over, and sure enough, I was covered in soot. I snorted, then laughed. I leaned on my knees, unable to stand I was laughing so hard. When I righted myself again, Thorin was frowning at me, his arms folded across his chest. He looked down right angry.     "Did you like the fireworks display," I asked.     "No, you scared us half to death," Dori shouted. Nori and Ori shared a look, then nodded their heads. Dori looked at them, completely shocked. Bombur, Bofur and Bifur were smiling, in fact, I believe everyone was smiling. Everyone but Dwalin, Dori, Thorin and Gandalf. Thorin and I had a little stare down, both of us had our arms across our chest, a defiant smirk across my face, an angry scowl across Thorin's. He shifted on his feet, then shook his head.     "That was spectacular," He said at last. I smiled, a great big toothy grin that I was sure looked completely white against my soot covered skin, not that they weren't white or anything. "But don't do that again!"     "I can't make any promises," I said, shrugging. Thorin looked at me, lowering his head slightly.     "No more fireworks until......I say so, yes," Thorin asked. I stuck my chin out.     "No more fireworks until I say so, yes." I plopped down next to Lakita, who had turned on her side and was peacefully snoozing. Thorin growled and ran a hand over his face. He stomped, yes stomped, back to his bed roll and sat down, bundling himself up in blankets.     "You get first watch then," He shouted over his shoulder.     "Dangitt." Fili and Kili walked over to me, and sat down, one on either side of me.     "Is this your plan, blowing things up," Kili asked. I shook my head and lowered my voice a little more.     "Blowing things up was just a phase," I said.     "What phase was it," Fili asked.     "Three I think," I said, counting fingers. Pancakes, tea, embarrassment, fireworks. "That was phase four, actually. Two more to go!"     "Two more what," Bilbo asked. I flashed him a toothy grin as he sat down.     "Two more attempts to get Thorin to smile," Kili said. Bilbo frowned and rubbed his chin.     "But he has smiled," Bilbo argued. Fili, Kili and I shook our heads.     "Not a real smile, not yet," Fili said, looking at Thorin. Kili looked up and smiled evilly at Bilbo, who inched away from him. "We need your help hobbit."     "Help with what,"  The hobbit asked. I smiled like a Warg.

    (Myrin's POV)

    I really hoped that this would work, it all depended on if the hobbit didn't chicken out. And if Thorin didn't find out. I yawned as I fell into step with Thorin. We were giving the ponies another day without riders, thankfully that didn't interfere with my plan. Thorin glanced sideways at me.     "Someone's a little tired," He said. I shrugged. "Did you go scouting early this morning or something?" I nodded with another yawn. Bilbo walked along behind me, just where he was meant to be. Kili and Fili were walked next to him, just in case something went wrong. I smiled and looked sideways at Thorin.     "You okay," He asked. I nodded, still smiling. Thorin wasn't convinced. "Maybe I should rephrase that, what are you up to?" Thorin turned his Head to look directly at me, trying to glare but with me being a half inch shorter then him, it didn't really work. I smiled brighter and yawned again.     "I'm not up to anything," I lied. I looked at the surroundings, looking for a particular one.     "Did you loose something," He asked, taking a look around. I yawned again.     "Nope." I sighed and drew my cloak around my shoulders tighter. I really wasn't going to like this, but it would be worth it. I finally spied the landmark a few minuets later. It looked like a tree, but it was made of stone. I grabbed Thorin's shoulder, leaned in close, until my head was right next to his head and pointed at the stone tree.     "Isn't that weird," I asked. Thorin looked sideways at me again, rolled his eyes and gently shoved me away.     "Yes, are you sure you're not up to anything?" I shrugged, still holding onto Thorin's shoulder, and tapped the toe of my boot behind me twice. Bilbo grumbled under his breath and gave a little shriek. He fell next to me, just barely touching my feet, but just enough to make my tripping seem real. I tightened my grip on Thorin's shoulder and fell, the great warrior landing next to me with an "Umph!" As I had fallen, I threw all my strength into my shoulder that would touch the ground first, and I felt the ground give a little. Before I could even release the breath I had taken, the ground fell out from under me, literally, and I fell into the mud pit I had found whilst flying late last afternoon. I hit the wet, cold, slimy mud, back first and plunged deep into it, deeper then I thought it was. I reached the bottom after what I thought was two minuets. I stood up and burst through the surface, but I didn't take a deep breath. I wiped the mud from my eyes and nose, then took a deep breath as I opened my eyes. The first thing that I saw was the dip in the side of the hill that I had hollowed out early this morning, my reason for yawning so much. Ten feet above, the entire company was gathered at the edge of the hill, including Thorin. The Great King was red faced, barely able to keep from laughing. Fili, and Kili were chuckling nervously, and Bilbo was crouched down on the edge, staring right at me. I frowned, stuck my chin out and folded my arms.     "Dangitt," I yelled. That did it for Thorin. He buckled over, his deep laughter filling the surrounding valley. The ground he was standing on fell out, and he fell in, not before grabbing Kili's leg, Kili grabbing Fili, who kicked Bilbo into the mud. They all landed with a loud pop like sound, and I took the moment to buckle over laughing. Bilbo stood up first, taking a deep breath, only to cough and sputter as he spat mud out of his mouth.     "I thought you said this would work," Kili yelled behind Bilbo. He wiped his hand across his mouth and eyes as Fili and Thorin resurfaced. Everyone was covered in tawny brown mud, swirled with white, deeper browns and the occasional leaf that strayed by in the breeze. Thorin wiped his mouth and eyes, then looked at me.     "It did work Kili," I yelled back.     "Myrin, think fast," Thorin bellowed. I turned just in time to get a mud ball to the face. I heard everyone take a collective gasp as I wiped the mud from my eyes again. I glared at Thorin, who was beaming like an idiot, trying to look Innocent. It didn't really help that everyone was staring at him. I bent down, picked up a handful of mud in each hand and threw it back at Thorin, who promptly ducked. The mud ball hit Kili, who landed back first in the mud again. I glanced up at the new cliff, and found everyone to be laughing their hearts out, even Gandalf and Dwalin. I ducked as Thorin threw another mud-ball at me, then launched one back at him. Square in the chest, and the force of it made him stagger. Something hit me in the back, forcing me to the ground. I looked behind me with a shake of my head. To my surprise, the hobbit had thrown the mud ball at me. I felt my mouth go agape as he leaned down to get another.     "That's for getting me into this mess," He yelled, trying to sound mean but the humor in his face betrayed him. He threw the next one, hitting the back of my head. "That's for getting mud in my lasts pair of dry clothes!"     "This is for getting mud in my HAIR," I yelled back. I picked up another mud ball, this one having a dirt clot in it, and threw it at the hobbit, laughing like a maniac as I did so. Bilbo rolled out of the way, just as Fili walked into the line of fire. It hit him in the ear, probably sending mud clear into his brain. I cringed as he teetered sideways, then looked at me. I planted my face in the mud, knowing fully well who was behind me, and that I was thankfully covered in mud, so he couldn't see me very well. Then again, this was Fili we're talking about. I left my ears above the surface so I could hear was was going on.     "You shall pay for that Kili," Fili shouted. Oops, I thought it was Thorin behind me. I heard the mud ball wiz over me, so I sat up and rolled away from the mud covered princes. Thorin and Bilbo were having a mud slaughter, and they didn't even invite me! I picked up a mud ball and quietly tip toed over to Thorin, who had his back to me. I lifted up his collar and dumped the mud down the back of his shirt. I saw him stiffen, Bilbo's hand flew to his mouth, and the spots of skin I could see on his face turned a lovely shade of red. Thorin turned around and glared at me.     "I'm gonna skin you Myrin," Thorin bellowed, squeezing the mud out of his back. That had to be the most funny thing I had seen in my life. Thorin Oakenshield, supposedly the fearless king under the mountain, with mud stuck in his beard, hair, and everywhere else, saying he was going to skin me while he was squeezing mud from his clothing. My hand covered my mouth, I pointed at my long time friend, and laughed harder then I had in what seemed like forever.     "How can you skin me when you can't even reached the middle of your back," I coughed, once I could speak through my laughter. Thorin glared at me as he stood up.     "I can too, how would you like mud in your boots," He growled. As he stood there, glaring at me, most likely thinking how he would skin me, I blinked at Bilbo, who was sneaking up behind Thorin, getting ready to shove him into the mud. He nodded and jumped forwards, shoving Thorin into the mud with all his small might. With a surprised yelp, Thorin fell face first into the mud. Everyone's laughter could be heard beyond Bree, I suspected. Something grabbed my foot and pulled me into the mud. Guess who? Thorin! We had the great mud wars for a while longer, until the sun was about a hand's width away from the horizon, around seven o'clock I should think. That's when Dwalin and Balin came and got us, both snickering at me.     "I remember a little lass that wouldn't get out of any type of dirt," Balin recalled, rubbing his fork at the end of his beard. "What happened to her?" I laughed and stepped out of the pit.     "She learned that some dwarrow wouldn't take 'no' for an answer," I shouted, nearly slapping Balin on the back. I remembered just in time that I had mud on me. I remembered that there was a lake nearby, so I started walking. Everyone walked towards the lake as well, whether it was them following me or walking to the camp, I couldn't tell. As I found out a few minuets later, the company had camped a few meters away from the edge of the lake. I jumped right into the lake, not bothering to take off my boots or anything. I would of had to wash them anyways before I could of worn them again. Those who were in the mud pit with me did likewise, so the mud war became a water war. Once every speck of mud was gone from hair, clothes, boots and beards, we returned to land, and were forced to sit right next to the fire.     "You will not get sick again Thorin," Oin growled. He turned to Kili and I, wagging a finger at us. "And you two were bad enough when you were younger, I don't want to deal with you now when you're stronger!" Bilbo gave us a quizzical look, but I waved him off. The night was hot, just like it should be for almost being June. Wait a second........ I pulled Kili close and leaned in close to his ear.     "What day is it," I growled. His eyebrow raised as he leaned away from me.     "May 31st, why," He asked. Realization came to his eyes, and his mouth morphed into a silent 'oh'. We gave Thorin a glance, then frowned at each other. Bilbo noticed this and inched closer to Kili.     "Do I want to know," He asked. I ringed my hair out a little more, letting the water sizzle on the rocks surrounding the fire.     "We've got a problem Myrin," Fili said, sitting next to Bilbo, completing the little circle. I nodded and glanced over at Thorin again, who was looking at our little circle, a bemused look on his face.     "I know, I'll think of something- Can I help you Mr Mud-King," I asked as Thorin walked over from the other side of the fire.     "Last time you four got together I ended up with mud down my shirt," He said as he sat down.     "This one's for our benefit, thank you very much," I said, nodding slightly. Thorin snorted.     "Your benefit, hum? Does it involve sticking herbs in my things, drenching my cloak in pepper, or attempting to get me into a sticky situation?" We all frowned at him, then shook our heads. Thorin frowned, then he must have decided that we were telling the truth, not that we weren't, because he returned to his spot on the other side of the fire. I leaned in closer to Kili.     "Any ideas," I asked, because I had just ran out. Kili stroked his stubble, staring at Thorin, who was staring back. I noticed all the company was staring at our little circle, all wearing bemused looks.     "We could give him a day of peace," Fili said quietly, so quietly that I could barely hear it over the sound of the fire. "Tell him we have everything taken care of for him-"     "Who are you talking about," Bilbo asked. I threw my thumb in Thorin's general direction, and Bilbo glanced at him.     "That could work," I said, equally as quiet. "Let him sleep, but he never sleeps past dawn... I could give him a sleeping drought..."     "Are you nuts," Kili asked. "The second he finds out, he'll get grumpy again." I growled.     "Okay, then we four need to take the watch tonight."     "Make that three, I need my sleep," Bilbo said. With that, he rolled out his bed roll and curled down in the blankets. I bounced my Head back and forth, weighing options.     "I'll take first watch," Kili shouted. Everyone looked up, and got suspicious.     "Why do you want to take first watch," Dwalin asked.     " 'Cause I don't want to get my bed roll wet," Kili said, lifting up his hair, which was nearly dry, but Dwalin couldn't tell. I sighed and got out my own bed roll.     "Make sure that you wake one of us up," I told Kili, pointing to Fili and myself. I sat down, burrowed underneath, and fell asleep instantly.

[coconut-oyl]

Dans mes Rêveries

The wavering light of the moon blinked into its fullness and bathed the landscape. In the centre of a full and bursting field of grains was Marc, who lay there peacefully. It seemed as if he was floating on the ocean with the way the stalks swayed in the breeze. Was the moon pulling them, the same way it tugged back and forth with the ocean? And then he was there; the ocean was vast and powerful and the moon willed it on as it shoved him around. From beneath him he felt something stir. A cold hand of the water brushed the underside of his foot. And then the salty water in front of him pulsed and pushed above the surface. Some terrible creature was birthed in front of him and he pulled his hands to his eyes. Harsh moonlight stabbed through the gaps between his hands. "Mortal," an otherworldly voice boomed from the same direction of the shining anomaly. "Ye who quivers in my presence, let your cowardice sink to the depths and look upon me, for I have a task to bestow." Marc cautiously lowered his hands, and tried to control his breathing that shot pain through his chest with every heavy gulp of air. The creature was revealed to him. Its massive muscled girth stood five heads taller than himself and should have left him draped in shadows, however, the beast emitted a light of its own. Its eyes shone as vividly as the moon itself, and Marc squinted, struggling to look upon its grandeur. Looking past its bewitching eyes, the beast itself was a deep blue-black draft horse with the sky's ever-changing constellations tattooed into its skin. The beast reared its head, "Ye have drunk in my presence for long enough, mortal." Its mouth opened as it spoke and the shrill cry of a horse pierced Marc's eardrums. "After this, ye must go out to where the cattle beg for better every day of their short lives. Ye must take every sack of grain and bale of hay that ye have taken from the weary earth. Ye must feed every piece of it to these starving creatures. Do this and ye will be saved from the grasp of winter." The light grew brighter before he could ask anything and Marc squeezed his eyes shut to protect himself from being blinded. ~~~ Marc is jolted from his rest, swimming in his own cold sweat. The eyes burned their image into his memory and its orders were ringing in his ears. It was just a dream, he reminded himself as he flopped back down onto his pillow. His mind eventually stopped racing and his eyelids slammed him back into an uneasy slumber. ~~~     "Fool! How dare ye ignore my orders!" Marc sprung out of his bed and tripped over himself as he clumsily tried to go to the window and see what the source of the voice was. He pulled the curtains back with dread stirring the contents of his stomach. There was the beast; huge and imposing in the centre of his yard. Its massive head was lowered at him and its nostrils flared with anger. "I curse thy mind to wander and for all senses to leave thee for eternity! Anyone who tries to help thee will be subjected to the same fate." The beast's horrible moony eyes opened to their widest and caught Marc’s entire being in their circumference.

Then it all turned to vapour; everything was coming in and out of existence. Did he even exist anymore? Where was he? Where was anything? Voices. The voices of all the people he knew. And others. Who were they? He could only hear voices and some distant rumbling thunder. The storm closed in on him and he could only hear voices and - cows? Hey, diddle, diddle, his cows really were jumping over the moon. The moon! Its eye stared mockingly, laughing at him. It was an honest mistake; those who believe in dreams are insane! Why should he risk everything just for a dream? He could be dreaming right now for all he knew! Who was he? All he knew was the 'moo, moo, moos' and 'cluck, clucks' that bounced around constantly in his mind? He was surrounded by the animals. They waved their feed buckets hungrily at him. Over and over and over and over. A chicken clucked at him, "food! Food! Food! Feed us!" He had made a grave mistake! Oh, why did he not listen? Why did he not listen? The animals pressed closer to him. They wanted more. He screamed and ran, they were coming for him! They wanted his grains and probably more if they couldn't get what they wanted. Everything was a blur. He continued to run. His body slammed into so many things and bruised his muscles. He would not stop - he had to get away! He hit something in front of him and fell against it. His sight came to him momentarily and it was a woman. "Help me! I need -- please help-- stop them, they're coming for me, stop them!" He screamed in the woman's face and she paled. Her eyes rolled back and then it was there, the moon stared at him again. "No! No, no, no, no, not you again! Leave me alone!" He shoved her aside and fell to the dirt, suddenly unbalanced by this act. The animals swarmed around him once again, bringing their needy cries with them. The moon had reflected his frantic eyes, setting his mind alight again. A chicken pecked at him from behind and he turned to face it. He turned to come face to face with his very own likeness - on the body of the chicken. Oh! What a monstrosity, this abomination should not exist; none of this should exist. He did not want to exist anymore. His eyes caught the moon's haunting gaze again. He squeezed his eyes shut until his brain hurt more than this insanity already did. His hands and fingers pinched at his face trying to squish it into something smaller, maybe scrunch up his existence into a crumpled ball. He curled inwards trying to disappear. He returned to the voices and let them take him for eternity.

[termints]

36 day uh ooh ahah thank your mother for the rabbit 36 day adder adder way thank ya mother for the rabbits rabbit stew ewww Nah um diddle dee dee yum rabbit pie oh absolutely to die for no chore lean gamee diliziosa buuueefool mate haha 36 day ferriirts lol Ferrets are very sociable animals and can make wonderful pets, especially if handled and socialized well from an early age. They are inquisitive and playful animals with characteristics similar to those of dogs as well as cats, and can be easily trained to use a litter box. Ahh yes yee Kr Acker cracker crackdown a (disclaimer) my poor lovely young mum 2 boys under 5 lolz hmmm precocious yep uh yep little we Coote little bugger (Gunno) bad robot 🤖 naughty robot 🤖 ouch someone stepped on my grave Wiley coyote tehe 🤣🙀😿🦊🐨🐭🐰🙊🦝🦦🥀🥀🥀☄️🎄🐶👼🏼👼🏼👼🏼👣🗣👶🏻👶🏻🙀anyhoo mummy got her hands full not halter hafar tarme BATH 🛀 time time for young BB’s bath little por res nah poobees nice and clean 🧼 nice and clean humf shh time go exploring Nah body watching off we go nobody knows precocious off like a brides nighty down into the backyard wow farthest down don’t make a sound what’s that what that’s are the cage oooh the cage precocious open tryin oooh almost almost gotten it got OPEN hhmmm warm lots of hay hayride in here oh oh oh allo allo allo what wut we have here FERRITs it’s nice in here pat pat patted nice ferrits nice nicely niceee peat et pet pet pat ferret nininite nininite 😂 nininite 😼😾😿😽😺🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼alas after much concern mummy found precocious he had got out of the walked down the back yard got open the ferrit cage got did not get harmed by the ferrits but smelled HORRIBLE huuufiiccckk hahaha😷😷😷🤐🤐🤐🤗🤗🤫🤫🤫🤭🤭🤭🤭 🙄🙄🙄🙄🤩🤪😍🥰@termints #ferrets #pets #writing #creatives #victoriapolice (at Ferret's Flat) https://www.instagram.com/p/CDhVA76J26D/?igshid=r5ixvg7g9p0w

[satireknight]

TMNT S01E04 - Hot Rodding Teenagers from Dimension X

AND... just like that, the titles started getting silly.

So the Turtles are planning to turn Baxter’s van into a mobile tracking station, using the equipment in Baxter’s lab. Is this legal? This doesn’t seem legal. I know technically they’re vigilantes, but this seems a little thefty.

So they do what anyone would do: they push the entire van up the stairs, and then Donatello rips the entire side of the van off like he was peeling an orange. Explain to me again why Michelangelo couldn’t get out of ropes in the last episode.

It also turns out that Baxter’s been arrested offscreen because “the authorities didn’t appreciate it when he tried to take over the city with his Mouser robots.” Well, that happens when you print your name on your murderous metallic T-rexes. Wait, take over the city? They didn’t do that! They just tried to kill Splinter and ate an apartment building!

Since Donatello is modifying an entire van all by himself while everyone else stands around chatting, he inevitably starts asking why THEY have to do ALL the work of stopping Shredder. I’d be asking why I have to do all the technical stuff, since presumably one of the others can work a wrench.

How has the Technodrome not completely hollowed out the area under New York, causing a catastrophic collapse?

Krang has finally had enough and is refusing to give Shredder any more new toys until Shredder ponies up a pair of opposable thumbs. Shredder acts high and mighty by saying that the body is just one of several experiments he’s doing... which includes more mutants.

I can see the benefits of a bat, since they presumably would have sonar or something like that. But why a lizard? Or a mole? How are those better than the ones you already have?

Shredder then remembers that oh yeah, Krang is from another dimension, and since that dimension is full of nonstop war, he can just get weapons from THAT place. Of course, since Krang also has an army sitting on the other side, he might end up with angry soldiers ripping his face off. Krang is somehow horrified by the idea of what might come through the portal.

In “Donatello is underappreciated” news, Donatello has just managed to whip up a personalized, highly-decorated, weaponized vehicle in mere hours. How do his bros respond to this? They want more shit like higher ceilings and pizza ovens so they can mess around while driving. Amazingly he doesn’t kill them all with his wrench set, and they careen down the stairs and straight into a fire hydrant. 

Shredder is apparently expecting to just open the portal right into an armory, but instead two flying cars come zooming through. These are the Neutrinos.

And I don’t know if people will agree or not, but I’ve always hated the Neutrinos, the futuristic alien elf people, even when I was a little kid. Part of it was their voices; they always sounded like they had a sore throat. Another was the antiquated slang that they used, which... I never understood the reasons for and is kinda cringey.

But the most glaring reason for me was that they never felt like complete characters. Think about it: when you strip away the weird way they talk, what are you left with? Who are they? What shapes them as people? Answer: we don’t know, because they’re not really developed. They are all basically the same bland empty character. Kala is particularly bad, because her only narrative function is for Michelangelo to occasionally crush on her. She’s not a real character on her own.

Let’s just say I prefer the Neutrinos in the IDW comic, where they actually have some character and function instead of “we’re fun-loving teenagers and the grown-ups oppress us!”

sigh

So they’re chased by a pair of rock warriors in a flying tank, and that sounded so much more metal in my head.

Rocksteady and Bebop blow up the tank, and a firefight breaks out as the Neutrinos escape. The Rock soldiers encounter Krang, who is upset that they’re seeing him naked.... and by naked, I mean just a brain on a little wheelie stand. Apparently he “lost” his body when he was banished to Earth... although I’m not sure how or why.

And then the awkward writing kicks in: Krang and the warriors talk with horror about how the Neutrinos hate war, won’t fight, and “encourage people to have fun.” Perish the thought. Oh Lord, the heavy-handedness is making my brain hurt.

Oh hai World Trade Center. You’re making me feel awkward and a little depressed.

So the Neutrinos drive right out of a subway entrance, and the Turtles immediately start chasing them, ultimately leaping right into their cars and forcing them to land. But then they find out that the Neutrinos have no idea who Shredder is, and are just a group of shrill-voiced tiny elves who unironically use terms like “daddio.”

So the Turtles do what any person would do with alien visitors: they take ‘em to... an arcade. Why? I have no idea. 

April sparks off a conversation about Dimension X, and another silly “all the grown-ups don’t want young kids like us to have fun!” conversation takes place. Look, is there any child with six brain cells who won’t feel pandered to by that sort of thing? Especially with idiotic ideas like them being chased because they trespassed on a battlefield.... um, getting onto a battlefield is its own punishment, because... you are going to die. Nobody’s going to stop fighting just to kill YOU.

Just then the Rock Warriors torpedo the building and put the scene out of my misery. By coincidence, all the humans in the building suddenly evaporate... so I’m going to assume they’re dead.

So the Neutrinos finally do something useful and start firing at the Rock Warriors, and Leonardo manages to wreck their vehicle with his amazing insta-growing sword.

That’s easily twelve feet long.

Just then the explosions, energy blasts and probable deaths of multiple people cause the police to show up. I wonder why.

Just then Leonardo mentions how weird it is that Shredder is able to connect to a different dimension.... NOW? YOU’RE GOING TO ASK THAT NOW? Shouldn’t you have asked that back before you were playing pinball and listening to the Neutrinos bitch about how mommy and daddy won’t let them zoom around in circles being obnoxious?

So yes, the Turtles finally break out of their “fun” brainfog and realize that they could be facing a global invasion, which is kind of important. It’s about time that tenuous plot finally reared its head.

“This is my Magic 8 Ball!” 

No, it’s actually a weather-making device. And then they’re attacked by the NYPD, who must be really fucking jaded if they don’t react to a couple of guys apparently made out of rock.

The Neutrinos tell the Turtles and Splinter about Krang, which explains the whole talking brain thing that came up in the last episode. Wow, that might have been good information to get from them BEFORE YOU WENT TO A FUCKING ARCADE. Sorry, these characters really piss me off.

Oh, and Michelangelo is crushing in Kala. Why? Dunno, because they’ve barely interacted at ALL, so I’m going to assume it’s because she’s the only girl he’s ever encountered who isn’t way taller than him. Also, her only defining trait is that she cries.

Wait, since when did they have a hydraulic platform inside a phone booth?! How do you even instal that without people noticing?

So the Technodrome that they previously spent hours or days searching for is now something they can just drive up to, and they are able to fly those flying cars right inside with no resistance whatsoever. Of course, while Donatello is diddling with the portal, the mook squad comes in and causes trouble for them, while the other Turtles encounter Shredder, Krang and the Rock Warriors.

I have no idea why Krang is bouncing with joy. It seems premature.

Also the Technodrome has a giant floor section with vanishing panels. Why? 

Finally the dimensional portal opens, which means the Neutrinos and their bad writing are going as well.

“There’s a barrel of silicone lubricant over there!” How did you know that? And why do I not want to know WHY it’s there?

“We want to stay with you, and have FUN!” Can you see why I hate this character with a passion?

The Neutrino with the gray hair says that they have to keep fighting Krang in Dimension X... which seems to go against two things we’ve been told. One is that Krang hasn’t been involved in the fighting since being banished, and the other is that the Neutrinos just mess around and don’t participate in any kind of conflict because it isn’t fuuuuuuuuuun.

So they zoom through the portal, and Michelangelo gets teary-eyed over the departure of someone he’s exchanged maybe ten words with over the span of a single day. I care sooooo much right now.

But unfortunately the weather-maker is still causing sufficiently bad weather that the ground is actually shaking. Right now there’s a friggin’ tornado in the streets.Leonardo handles it the way you’d expect - he leaps out of a flying car and almost dies so he can slice the thing in half.

And having pussed out epicly during the fight, Shredder finally throws a fit and declares that he’ll make Krang’s new body for him if Krang kills the Turtles.

And back in the Turtles’ lair, for some reason they’re back to sleeping in a quadruple bunk, while April reads them the same children’s story over and over again.

VERDICT:

This story is a big step down from the previous three, partly because it feels so schizophrenic. Parts of it, like that bedtime-story ending and the Neutrinos whining, feel incredibly juvenile and pandering to the child audience. But the other half is an actual threat of alien invasion and a dangerous weapon. 

And the two don’t mesh very well, which often makes it feel like the important plot is being sidelined for kiddie antics. It really just sticks out, especially since the characters we’ve been shown are not really the kind to respond to serious new developments by just kicking back in an arcade.

I already ranted about the Neutrinos and what shallow half-characters they are, but I gotta say again, they don’t really add much of anything to the story beyond a shallow insta-crush, infodumpage and some aerial action scenes. 

One thing that was much better in this episode is the animation, which has stepped back up from the last episode. And it has some nice moments like the police and military taking on the Rock Warriors, which gave us some good conflict and a sense that the world outside is bigger than just the Turtles and their issues.

Speaking of their issues, despite my bitching it was kinda fun to see the origins of their van, even if poor Donatello remains horribly underappreciated. He’s the kind of guy who could build a particle accelerator out of toaster parts, and people would complain because it doesn’t have an embedded clock.

Grade: C-

[pop-peroni]

MA can not only be Marshmallow Anon, but Mom Anon, too. What the hay diddle diddle is up? And who do I need to frickin destroy? -MA

/:3c i guess it could work

[alexandra-amaria]

THIS IS BETTER THAN ANY FIC ANY OF YOU WILL EVER WRITE SO READ IT.

Role playing done by ME, @haidenschreave and @princess-eloise-schreave

This fic is done because Alexandra has the same B-day as Naomi. 

“Hey, It's my birthday but no one remembered so I wanna get drunk, you guys in? I brought wines for haiden and for Eloise, chocolate and some alcoholic hot chocolate, and some vodka for myself.

or not, I mean you guys do you. I was only here for Eloise though so like if you wanna leave Haiden, that's cool too.” I muttered as I walked into Eloise’s room where haiden (or as he will later be referred to D-Den ) was sitting painfully awkward as he sat on the foot of Eloise’s bed. Maybe it was painful because I mean damn Eloise is just like freaking painfully hot, or because D-den is painfully annoying, or because I am already 6ft drunk and hit my head against the wall coming up here, either way, PAIN.

“Haiden don't leave, please stay here.” Eloise whimpered with a small sob as she gazed up at her brother. THE DRAMA. I suppose they were already getting turnt too, WELL MORE ALCOHOL.

“Why you scared I'll be too hot for you

I already drank some.” I flirted as I shook my caboose over to my gay queen (Aka princess Elo-please-get-in-my-panties)

“Hi.” Haiden flomped.

“Wines?” I offered throwing them onto the bed, hoping they would break on Eloise so she would have to get nakey-wakey eggs and baconey.

“Plural?” Eloise Wadonked.

“Yes, many. Too many for your small (hot) body to consume.” I beyelled only mumtering the words of her sexy hottness.

“Eloise, you don't need to hang out with this girl.” D-den defended his little one with the eagerness of a fallen guard trying to regain his honor. But still D-den’s getting turnt off my wines. WINES.

“Rude

Yes she does

She needs my mentoring” I sassased with my arms crocrossed, like a crocodile.

“Mentoring on what?” Eloise asked with the innocent sound of a young snow white in her pleasant not yet lesbian voice.

“Lets be real, I’m already corrupted by YOU.” Eloise replied with all of the sass of 20 old women.

“Please don't corrupt my sister.” D-den pleaded.

“on how to appropriately apply highlighter, and how to get turnt. Would you rather I corrupt you???” I asked hoping he would surrender his sister to save himself.

“Better me tahn her.” D-den slurred.

“wow so noble not sacrificing her to save yourself. And sure I'll teach you how to apply highlighter haiden

hai-hai

den

D-den

D-den it is.” I thought aloud coming up with his swaggity swag new nickname.

“Um.” D-den awkwarded

“We should our makeup on my brother.” Eloise screamed ecstatically.

“Yes

good

smart

small one.” I approved and supported my youngling.

“I don't know if I'd look good with makeup.” Haiden shyed.

“You'd look good if I put it on you.” I flattered myself.

“Everyone looks good with makeup.” Though you look sexy without my dear dear dearling

“I'm the exception I'm sure.” D-den grumbled.

“Here Eloise, you do his concealer and I'll feed you chocolates while you do.” GAY i offered in a very lesbian way.

“Smooth.” D-den flattered me so goodly.

Eloise began doing the makeup stuff

I began feeding my lesbian dearly her chocolate.

“This seems gay

I'm not gonna say anything.” Bitch you just did.

“correction, Lesbian.” I sass a frassed.

“Lesbian, sorry.” D-den corrected.

“I'm gonna play some music and drink some wines.” I excused as I went to the music TV.

“Anyway you're here r can't be gay

Or lesbian.” She defended.

“I want some wines.” D-den complained.

“Or whatever

WINES!” Eloise squacked.

“I'll like dump it on you and you can catch what you can with your mouth. And Eloise I'll get you a straw and hold your drink.” I suggested. I am the servant of my LESBIAN QUEEnnnn.

“Should I leave?” D-den offered politely. Yes D-DEn let me be with my Ass Queen- I mean Lesbian Queen.

“NOOOOOOOO!” Eloise yelled.

“Nah, we need you for makeup.” I said holding him down in a chair.

“DTAY BROTHER BROTHER BROTHER OF MINE.” Eloise pleaded to her non-insestual sun.

“Here is a non-red wine, D-den, and Eloise here is a red wine, red like a passion I feel for you.” I lamented.

“What do I get?” D-den asked.

“non-red wine

it looks like not red

and wine

Here.” I explained.

“Red like your blood when I slit your throat.” Eloise threatened as she stared at the smiling crooked man.

“Eloise...

I thought we got past this point in your life.” D-den gasped.

“Take me...In both ways.” I begged.

“Murder, murder and homicide.” Eloise chanted.

“sex, sex and sex

and making out

and wines.” I chanted.

“WINES!!!” Eloise yelled.

“get turnt cause its my flippn birtday.” I flippdazzled.

“Can you girls just do my makeup?.” D-den sighed.

“can we dye your hair, D-den?” I asked.

“Murder.” Eloise whispered to herself.

“Been there, done that.” D-den.

“the cat?

did you murder the cat

who did you kill D-den.” I interrogated.

“I-I mean the hair dye.” He stuttered.

“woops

how about NEON PINK

im sure the girls would love it.” I pressured.

“I'd rather not.” He dismissed.

“ here have an apple juice. It suits your bravery

Childlike.” I insulted.

“Eloise I'll dye your hair. I think like a hot pink steak would look sexy

I mean streak.” I suggested and began doing the magical pink sprinkle waters on her head.

“No

Not happening.” D-den controlled.

“stake is good too

Lets go jump off the roof

sky diving

with ropes.” I suggested as I finished the dying.

“YES

LETS JUMP OFF THE ROOF.” Eloise frantically screamed and rose to the heavens.

“YES!” I screamed and threw my arms up.

“COME ON HAIDEN

ITLL BE FUN!” Eloise peer pressured. Or sibling pressured. One of the two.

“HAIDEN YOU'VE DONE IT ONCE NOW

WITH THAT DRESS BITCH

I MEAN CRESS

Show us your ways D-den.” I begged in a whisper trying to be Seduuuuctibe

“I shouldn't.” D-den destroyed our dreams.

“Yeah haiden, your ways with women.” Eloise sass a diddle danged.

“Why do you want to know those? So you can use them on me?” I flitered with a flutter of the winking eye.

“I don't see you getting laid, Eloise, so shush.” D-den attempted to wrECK. Only giving me an opportunity.

“Hey Eloise, wanna fix that?

with me?” I offered.

“NO I WANNA JUMP OFF THE ROOF!

COME ON HAIDEN

LETS GO JUMP OFF THE ROOF!” Eloise pleaded.

“Hey, Alexandra, wanna put your money where your mouth is?” D-den burned.

“Does that mean pay to suck some D or V

is so hell yeah

Eloise how much you charging?” I asked.

“Nothing. She is not a prostitute.” D-D-DEN defended.

“NO IM GOING TO GO JUMP OFF THE ROOF

BYE!” Eloise ditched.

“I should go, except I have unfinished contour.” D-den whined.

“Alright D-den, this contour is chocolate scented

And has low-key glitter

it's all done now.” I completed.

“I want more glitter.” D-den bitched.

THE NEXT DAY.

Haiden and Alexandra awoke with a headache, Eloise was found on the roof with a pink streak and vomiting off the side.

[bernadetttuskes-blog]

Pizza Hut

A Pizza Hut (make a square in the air) A Pizza Hut Kentucky Fried Chicken (flap your arms like you're doing the chicken dance) And a Pizza Hut A Pizza Hut A Pizza Hut, Kentucky Fried Chicken  And a Pizza Hut

McDonalds McDonalds (use two hands-make an "M" in the air, starting in the middle) Kentucky Fried Chicken  And a Pizza Hut Mc Donald's, Mc Donald's, Kentucky Fried Chicken  And a Pizza Hut

Row, row, row your boat Gently Down the stream. Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily, Life is but a dream.  Row, row, row your boat Gently down the stream. If you see a crocodile, Don't forget to scream. Argh!

 Way up in the sky The little birds fly While down in their nest The baby birds rest With a wing on the left, And a wing on the right The sweet little birdies sleep all through the night. Sh-h-h they’re sleeping! The bright sun comes up, The dew falls away, “Good morning, good morning!” the little birds say.

  Jack and Jill went up the hill

Jack and Jill went up the hill To fetch a pail of water. Jack fell down and broke his crown, And Jill came tumbling after.

Up Jack got, and home did trot, As fast as he could caper, He went to bed to mend his head, With vinegar and brown paper.

 My Bonnie is over the ocean

My Bonnie is over the sea

My Bonnie is over the ocean?

Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me

Bring back, bring back

Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me, to me!

Bring back, bring back

Oh, bring back my Bonnie to me

Johnny works with one hammer, One hammer, 1 hammer, Johnny works with 1 hammer, Then he works with two. (Hammer one fist lightly on leg)

2. . . . Two hammers (Hammer both fists on legs)

3. . . . Three hammers (Hammer both fists on legs and one foot on the floor)

4. . . . Four hammers (Hammer both fists on legs and both feet on the floor)

 Little Miss Muffet

Little miss Muffet she sat on her tuffet, eating her curds eating and whey  Along came a spider who sat down beside her And frightened miss Muffet away

Little miss Muffet she sat on her tuffet, eating her curds eating and whey  Along came a spider who sat down beside her And frightened miss Muffet away

  Mix a Pancake

Mix a pancake, Stir a pancake, Pop it in the pan; Fry the pancake, Toss the pancake, Catch it if you can.

 Incy Wincy spider

Incy Wincy spider climbing up the spout

Down came the rain and washed the spider out

Out came the sunshine and dried up all the rain

And Incy Wincy spider climbed up the spout again

 Teapot song

I'm a little teapot Short and stout Here is my handle (one hand on hip)  Here is my spout (other arm out straight)  When I get all steamed up Hear me shout "Tip me over and pour me out!" (lean over toward spout)  I'm a clever teapot, Yes it's true Here let me show you What I can do I can change my handle And my spout (switch arm positions)  Just tip me over and pour me out! 

Hickory Dickory dock, The mouse ran up the clock, The clock struck one The mouse ran down, Hickory Dickory dock. Hickory Dickory dock, The mouse ran up the clock, The clock struck two And down he flew, Hickory Dickory dock."

Happy birthday

Happy Birthday to You You live in a zoo You look like a monkey And you smell like one too.

 Humpty Dumpty

Humpty Dumpty sat on the wall,

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall.

All the king's horses

And all the king's men

Couldn't put Humpty Dumpty

Together again.

  London's burning

London's burning, London's burning.

Fetch the engines, fetch the engines.

Fire fire, Fire Fire!

Pour on water, pour on water.

 Roly poly

Roly poly, roly poly, roly poly,

up, up, up (hands up)

Roly poly, roly poly, roly poly,

down, down, down (hands down)

Roly poly, roly poly, roly poly,

clap, clap, clap (clap hands)

Roly poly, roly poly, roly poly,

hands behind your back (hands behind your back)

"Roses Are Red"

Roses are red and

Violets are blue

Honey is sweet, but not as sweet as you

Hey Diddle Diddle

Hey Diddle Diddle

The Cat And The Fiddle

The Cow Jumped Over The Moon

The Little Dog Laughed To See Such Sport

And The Dish Ran Away With The Spoon!

One, two, three, four, five,

Once I caught a fish alive,

Six, seven, eight, nine, ten,

Then I let it go again.

Why did you let it go?

Because it bit my finger so.

Which finger did it bite?

This little finger on my right

Old MacDonald

Old MACDONALD had a farm E-I-E-I-O And on his farm he had a cow E-I-E-I-O With a moo moo here And a moo moo there Here a moo, there a moo Everywhere a moo moo Old MacDonald had a farm E-I-E-I-O Old MACDONALD had a farm E-I-E-I-O And on his farm he had a pig E-I-E-I-O With a oink oink here And a oink oink there Here a oink, there a oink Everywhere a oink oink Old MacDonald had a farm E-I-E-I-O Old MACDONALD had a farm E-I-E-I-O And on his farm he had a duck E-I-E-I-O With a quack quack here And a quack quack there Here a quack, there a quack Everywhere a quack quack Old MacDonald had a farm E-I-E-I-O…..

 What Shall We Do with a Drunken Sailor?

What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor? What will we do with a drunken sailor? Early in the morning

Way hay and up she rises Way hay and up she rises Way hay and up she rises Early in the morning

Potatoes

1 potato, 2 potatoes, 3 potatoes 4

5 potatoes, 6 potatoes, 7 potatoes more.

 Bananas

Pick bananas, Pick-pick bananas! Pick bananas,  Pick-pick Bananas! Peel bananas,  Peel-peel bananas!  Peel bananas,  Peel-peel bananas!  Slice bananas,  Slice-slice bananas!  Slice bananas,  Slice-slice bananas!  Smash bananas,  Smash-smash bananas!  Smash bananas,  Smash-smash bananas!  Eat bananas,  Eat-eat bananas!  Eat bananas,  Eat-eat bananas!  GO BANANAS!  GO-GO BANANAS!  GO BANANAS!  GO-GO BANANAS! 

Princess Pat

The princess pat, (the princess pat) Lived in a tree, (lived in a tree) She sailed across, (she sailed across) The seven Seas, (the seven seas) She sailed across, (she sailed across) The channel two, (the channel two) And she took with her, (and she took with her) A rick-a-bamboo, (a rick-a-bamboo) A rick-a-bamboo, (a rick-a-bamboo) Now what is that? (now what is that?) Its something made, (its something made) By the princess pat, (by the princess pat) Its red and gold, (its red and gold) And purple too, (and purple too) Thats why its called, (thats why its called) A rick-a-bamboo, (a rick-a-bamboo) A rick-a-bamboo, (a rick-a-bamboo)

Twinkle twinkle little star

Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are. Up above the world so high, Like a diamond in the sky. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are! (When the blazing sun is gone, When he nothing shines upon. Then you show your little light, Twinkle, twinkle, all the night. Twinkle, twinkle, little star, How I wonder what you are!)

 Jingle bells

Oh, jingle bells, jingle bells Jingle all the way Oh, what fun it is to ride In a one horse open sleigh Jingle bells, jingle bells Jingle all the way Oh, what fun it is to ride In a one horse open sleigh

 Rudolf, the Red-Nosed Reindeer

Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer Had a very shiny nose And if you ever saw it You would even say it glows

All of the other reindeer Used to laugh and call him names They never let poor Rudolph Join in any reindeer games Me, Myself and I

Me, myself and I.

We went tot he kitchen and ate a pie.

Then my mother came in,

And chased us out with a rolling pin.

 Diddle Diddle Dumpling

Diddle diddle dumpling,

My son John,

Went to bed with his trousers on.

One shoe off and one shoe on.

Diddle diddle dumpling,

My son John.

 One arm goes up

One arm goes up,

one arm goes down.

one arm goes up and down.

two arms go up

two arms go down

two arms go up and down.

one leg goes up

one leg goes down

one leg goes up and down.

two legs go up

two legs go down

two legs go up and down.

two arms and two legs go up

two arms and two legs go down

two arms and two legs go up and down.

  Apple tree

way up high in the apple tree

I saw an apple smiling at me

I shook that tree as hard as I could

And down came the apple,

mmm good.

  1, 2, 3

one, two, three

tickle your knee

four five six

pick up sticks.

Seven eight nine

You’re all mine!

There was a little mouse

There was a little mouse

looking for his house

not here

not there

but here, here here!

Busy ants

Busy ants are everywhere

up the tree,

and down the stairs.

Hiding in the garden hose,

And even biting at my toes!

[sarahalexanderhistory]

Ypres 29th May 1916

My dear Mother

It is just a week since I last wrote to you from Folkestone. Since then I have hardly had a minute to spend until now, because whenever I was not doing anything on duty I was snatching a few minutes rest or sleep. I told you where I was going and it was quite right. I had a very good voyage across and was not sick. I was left the town where we landed that evening and got to a town not far behind us at about 2.30 am I managed to get a bunk and slept until 9 o’ clock. Then I boarded a motor lorry and came up as far as they are allowed. Then I managed to get in a sidecar of a bike belonging to an intelligence officer, and it brought me right up here. Since then I have been on the go until now.

I got a mail this morning and it is just lovely to read and read. You wrote then at Easter time when you went out to Gaywood to “make hay”. What cheek of the Nels to ask British people to a rebel wedding. I am jolly glad the Pennington’s are joining at last. I expect the Archdeacon’s sermons will be very different now. He is a good old chap but he couldn’t talk of the war before could he? He wrote me a letter the other day when he was down with his leg. I have sent him a postcard but have not written yet. I got a letter from Betty by this morning’s post I will write to her too.

Yesterday morning, Capt. Holland and I left here at dawn (3 ‘o clock) to hunt round the country for good O.P’s. (operational positions) It was misty on the ground and so we could walk about within 600 yards of the Bosch trench in the open. We were in the open only while it was very misty and quiet. We climbed about ruins and ledges and when the mist cleared often had to crawl flat down to get to places. In one place I  had to climb up behind an old chimney and look over and between the broken bricks. I was very careful in case of snipers but only showed one eye and was wearing my steel helmet. We always wear them. In another place a machine gun was chucking bullets around, but we got past safely in the mist. At last we found a suitable place in an old disused trench about 900 yards back and then came home. We got back at 11 o’ clock after having been out for exactly eight hours. I got about 2 ½ hours sleep in the afternoon and this morning again got up at 2.30 to go to the O.P.. We now have two shifts during the day now – from 3 am until 1 pm and from 1 pm until 8 pm. – that is why I am back this afternoon.

This morning I saw a very beautiful sight and yet very fearful. Two Fokkers were flying about just too high for anti-aircraft guns, and then one of our inferior machines came along. It was smaller than the Fokker but attacked one like a bee after a hornet. After a short manoevre they both fired at one another at the same time. I was watching and heard the rattle of both machine guns. Then our machine made a slight turn and nosedived to earth. I could not see the ground where it fell but it must have come a fearful crash from about 5000 – 6000 feet up. The Fokker went on its way for about a mile and then nose dived and in a few seconds was a mass of flames and fell in the Bosch lines. They had blotted one another out. It was very plucky of the little chap to attack the monster but he paid the price. At any rate he rid us of the brute that was spotting the batteries. The other Fokker flew Northwards and we heard at lunch time that he was hit 10 minutes after by one of our anti aircraft guns and cut in half. His remains fell in the British lines.

Half an hour later two more of our machines went over the Bosch lines with shrapnel bursting all round them. They zigzagged about, always managing to just diddle the gunners. It was daring Providence but they flew about for nearly an hour trying to spot and daring more Fokkers to come and also showing that they despised the Huns. Then five more came over flying straight thro’ the shells and dropped bombs on a village behind the German lines and came back. These 7 machines must have had about 2 or 3 hundred shells fired at them in two hours. They all returned safely. As they flew over the trenches the German infantry opened fire with rifles and machine guns, so I fired our battery scattering shrapnel over their trenches and they shut up like a Jack-in-a-Box. It was too funny; they stopped on the instant and didn’t do it again.

Goodbye, I must stop now. Love to all.

Your loving son

Norman