#they use their first names

[oobbbear]

I want to post this here too because I’ve seen it happen a few times

Please understand that there are cultural differences and language differences, if you see this happening let the person clarify what they meant, that person might just not be familiar with words the western side of the internet use

[muffinlance]

Hi ! prompt idea : What if Zuko was armed during the first episode and was stranded with the water tribe while the avatar left with Katara and Sokka, Iroh on his trail for white lotus reasons.

Oh we are going to have us some FUN with "stranded with the water tribe", say no more.

---

Zuko was dripping, and steaming, and staring down two dozen women and their gaggle of small children, plus that old not-the-Avatar crone from earlier. They were all cowering away from him. Which was--

Good. It was good. If they were cowering, then they hadn’t noticed how steam was not flames. He wasn’t sure he could make flames, not after the arctic water he’d landed in, with that last sight of the Avatar glowing; not after surfacing under the ice pack, after swimming, after kicking slamming breaking through and his ship was gone and there was only ocean all around and

and he’d made it back to this pathetic little camp of the Southern Water Tribe, because that was the only place he knew for sure would have shelter, and he wasn’t going to die just because they were all staring at him, even if felt like he would.

Even if the old not-the-Avatar woman could probably take him, right now. But she didn’t know that.

Zuko pulled himself up, taller than her by at least a few inches, and blew steam from his nose.

“I am commandeering one of your huts,” he said. And added, because Uncle said even a prince should be gracious: “You may choose which one.”

---

She choose her own.

...The only one without children that flames might scar, or younger women to catch a soldier’s interests.

Zuko sat by her fire and determinedly started struggling out of his wet clothes and she was still in here with him--

Zuko pulled one of her animal pelts over himself, and finished fighting off his clothes. When he stuck his head back out, cheeks still reddened from what was obviously the cold, she dropped a parka on his head.

“Dry clothes, Your Highness,” she said.

The parka was much bigger than he was. He fell asleep hoping that the camp’s men were on a long, long hunting trip.

---

He woke up again. Kanna tucked her favorite ulu knife away, newly sharpened, and stopped contemplating the alternative.

---

“I am commandeering a ship,” he said.

The crone led him across the village, all twenty paces of it, to a row of canoes.

“Take whichever one you want,” she said. “Will you need help getting it to the water?”

Zuko looked at the canoes. Looked at the ocean. Watched a leopard seal, easily the size of the largest canoe, dozing just past the ice his own ship had broken through the day before. It was frozen again, a great icy arrow pointing from the waves to the village, snow already starting to cover it over.

Beyond was blue sky and gray ocean and white ice, floating in blocks like stepping stones, like boulders, like cliffsides.

There wasn’t even a hint of gray steel, or smoke. Or any land, besides what they were standing on.

He looked down at the canoes again. Somehow, they seemed even smaller.

“I, uh,” Zuko cleared his throat. “I’ll require supplies. Before I go.”

---

They... did not have supplies. Not extra ones. This didn’t stop them from trying to give him supplies, food and blankets and anything else he could think to ask for. But each blanket was a pelt hunted by someone’s grandfather, had been inked with images and stories by someone’s mother, was the favorite of someone’s husband or brother or uncle or cousin--

They couldn’t go to the nearest market to replace things, here.

And when they talked about food, about what they could spare, they kept sneaking glances to their children, who were sneaking glances at Zuko from the huts, sticking their heads just over the snowy ledges like their fur-trimmed hoods would hide them. Their mothers and aunts shooed them away, and they crept back, like barnacle-crabs. Zuko glared, and they disappeared.

“When are your men coming back?” he asked. “They’re hunting, aren’t they?”

Oh. So that was what they looked like, when they weren’t trying to hide their hate.

---

Zuko wrapped himself up in the same blanket that night. It was printed inside with fine lines and images, telling a story he didn’t know. He wondered whose favorite it was.

---

Kanna wondered how quickly he’d wake—if he’d wake—if she built the fire up with wet driftwood and tundra grass, if she had one of the younger girls boost up a child to plug the air hole, if she let the smoke draw its own blanket down over this fire child.

---

It was hard to know when to wake up, because the sun never set. So everyone was up before him, and they all had spears and clubs and—and nets, and trap lines, and snow googles with their single slat to protect the eyes from snow blindness. Zuko had seen those once, at the Ember Island Museum of Ethnography, where they’d gone when it was too rainy for anything more exciting.

Oh. They were going hunting.

“Give me that,” Zuko said, and took a spear.

The women looked at him. One of them adjusted her googles.

“I can hunt,” he scowled.

He did not, in fact, know how to hunt.

---

“Give me that,” the Fire Prince said, and Kanna almost, almost gave him her ulu. Humans, like most animals, had an artery in their legs that would bleed them quick enough.

She kept skinning the rabbit-mink one of the women had snared.

“I can help,” he said, with less grace than most of their toddlers. Likely with the skinning skills of a toddler, too. She wasn’t going to let their unwanted visitor ruin a perfectly good pelt.

“Chop the meat,” she said, and gave him a different knife. “It’s dinner.”

“...This is really sharp,” he said a moment later, looking at the knife with some surprise.

“Is it,” said Kanna.

---

Things the Fire Prince was convinced he could do: hunt (until he realized he couldn’t tell the tracks of a rabbit-mink from a leopard-rabbit apart); spear fish (at least he could dry himself); pack snow for an igloo (frustrated princes ran hot); ice fish (the prince was a problem that kept coming close to solving itself).

Things the Fire Prince could actually do: mince meat, increasingly finely; gather berries and herbs, once he stopped trying to crush them; dig roots, under toddler supervision; mend nets, after the intermediary step of learning to braid hair loopies.

“Can’t I take him ice fishing again?” asked one of the women, as she watched Prince Zuko put as much apparent concentration into braiding her daughter’s hair as his people had into exterminating hers.

“Wait,” said another woman, sitting up straight. “Wait wait wait. I just had an idea.”

---

Three words: Infinite. Hot. Water.

---

Summer was coming to an end. The sun actually set, now, and the night was getting longer, and colder. The salmon-otter nets were mended and ready. The smoking racks were still full of cod-lemmings. The children were all a little older, the women all a little more used to doing both halves of their tribes’ chores; a little more used to not watching the horizon, waiting for help to come.

The Fire Prince was staring at the canoes again.

“Are you actually going to try leaving in one of those?” Kanna asked.

“...No.”

“Come on, then; someone needs to watch the kids while the women are hunting.”

She didn’t leave him alone with them, of course. But she could have.

---

Elsewhere, the war continued.

The moon turned red, for a moment none could sleep through; they did not learn why.

The comet came and went, leaving their castaway prince laying on the beach, his breath fogging up into the night sky above him, as the energy crashed from his system as quickly as it had come. Above, lights began to dance in the sky; Zuko pulled his hood up, so none of those spirits—children, dead too soon—got any ideas about kicking his head off to be their ball.

The war had ended. The world didn’t feel any different; no one in the south would know until spring came again.

---

Suffice it to say, Sokka and Katara were not prepared for this particular homecoming.

[simonbrain]

you rarely call price by his first name. it's usually just a very cheery cap! or a stoic price when you need to remind him of the objective, but whenever you do call him john—you tried jonathan once as a joke, and the piercing stare he gave you made that the first and last time—it's warm, earnest. you almost seem shy uttering it, judging by the softness of your voice, but he calms your nerves with a fond look and an affectionate squeeze on the back of your neck.

getting the privilege of calling soap by his first name, let alone johnny, was an accomplishment in itself. you noticed how ghost was the only one who called him johnny, and so you took that as a sign to never refer to him as anything other than his ridiculous callsign and occasionally an incredulous bloody hell, mactavish, whenever he says something outrageous.

until you did slip up one night, but soap didn't seem to mind too much. he quite liked how his first name sounded in your voice, and when he offered you to call him johnny instead, which you mumbled under your breath to test it out, his surprised expression morphed into a genuine smile, one so pretty a rush of energy zipped through you. now, he won't let you call him anything except johnny—pretty much threatens you.

gaz was the first one on the team who allowed you to call him by his first name. hearing you mumble a tired morning, kyle or a warning but unserious kylie... when he's being a little shit makes his day a little brighter. you'd think the two of you were good mates with many years of friendship under your belts with the way you mock and poke at each other—especially when he lets you get away with calling him the most ridiculous pet names, like pookie, of all things.

while you seem to maintain good relations with your team, close ones even, there's just one person who stumps you. one big, enigmatic bastard who gives you creepy looks and speaks in nothing but cryptic language.

it honestly feels like your lieutenant dislikes you; no wonder you're still stuck with calling him by his callsign.

(poor ghost has been waiting for weeks for those plush lips of yours to utter his name. not ghost, not lieutenant or sir, but simon.

it's getting painful how oblivious you are to his attempts at giving you the green light to use his first name; the hard stare he gives you after hearing yet another formal greeting fall from your lips only seems to make you straighten up even more, and the annoyance radiating off of him every time you call him ghost scares you further away from him.

you're so formal with him, and he doesn't know what else to do—he just wants to be called a cute stupid nickname, too.)

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

The indescribable tension between an overworked and underpaid smut writer, and his biggest fan hater.

(for @frummpets)

[bloobydabloob]

maybe a rq- have you ever drawn terezi? would love to see hir in your style

Nyeeeesss I have, but only every once in a while and all of the ones I have are very old and not very good at all. Have these quick things

[charlietheepicwriter7]

It was easy to lure the newest Titan away from the rest, back the boy into a corner. He was the weakest link, the newest hero, the easiest to manipulate-

Then, the ghost child transformed, glowing rings passing over his body to reveal a familiar black-haired boy. "Uncle Slade, what the fuck are you doing?"

[basslinegrave]

pin-up

b&w originals

[ravenpureforever]

On one hand, Young Justice is kind of neglected by the actual superheroes that should be looking out for them in a lot of crucial ways and very much failed by the adults around them

But on the other hand Red Tornado straight up hosts a parent-teacher conference where their respective legal guardians all show up, barring Batman who’s in traffic so Nightwing fills in instead because Robin’s dad does not know he’s a vigilante which is objectively hilarious

[lurking-loaf]

It's essential to teach them color theory when they're young so they understand how to mix colors. How else will you get art that's good enough for the fridge?

Day 6 of DCA Promptober - hues plus bonus animation of Sun imitating the Mac's wait cursor aka the Spinning Beach Ball of Doom

[milkcioccolato]

First names are something to be used sparingly and on special occasions😌

[whathorselegs]

All the names Chuuya and Dazai call each other in the Fifteen light novel

Note: This is not every time they insult/make fun of each other. For example Dazai tends to say things like he'll put a curse on Chuuya to remain short whilst he grows tall, more than name calling. However this list is only name calling.

Dazai about Chuuya:

Kid

Pip-squeak (Uses more than once)

Little fairy

A child

Schoolboy (Uses more than once)

Little man

Filthy dog

Chuuya - He calls Chuuya by his name for the first time in the arcade, Chuuya then tells him not to use his name. After this Dazai repeatedly says his name over using nicknames.

Chuuya about Dazai:

Kid

Surprisingly gutsy kid

Little shit

Little punk

Dumbass

Lil twig

Mummy boy (Uses more than once)

Little wimp

Bandages

Idiot

Twisted freak

Little suicide-obsessed- (he's cut off before he finishes this one)

Sly dirtbag

Slimeball (Uses more than once)

Crafty son of a bitch

Sly bastard

Demon

Weasel

Dazai - He calls Dazai by his name for the first time during their fight with Rimbaud when they agree to work together to defeat him. However, he still mixes in name calling along with using Dazai's name.

BONUS - Names Chuuya uses for other people:

Old man - Hirotsu

Old fart - Hirotsu and the Old Boss

Doc - Mori

Bastard - Mori

Piece of shit - Mori

Damn octopus - Mori

Gramps - Random GSS member

Dumbass - Shirase

Ma'am (Ane-san) - Kouyou. (She also calls Chuuya 'Young man' just before this. They both disapprove of being called these.)

Boss - Mori

Randou - Rimbaud (as far as I could see Chuuya mostly used his name, though I may have missed a nickname)

A thing I noticed with Dazai is that he generally calls people by their names. He calls Hirotsu, Mori and Kouyou all by name. With Mori it sometimes feels like that's the insult, he knows he can get away with disrespecting him this way, so he doesn't call Mori his Boss. Similarly he only starts calling Chuuya by name after he's told not to. He also prefers coming up with imaginative insults/scenarios rather than name calling, though he's not above it, so his list is a lot shorter than Chuuya's.

Chuuya however, uses nicknames for practically everyone, they just get more polite the more he respects them. Mori goes from 'Bastard' and 'Octopus' to 'Boss', once he gains Chuuya's respect. Rimbaud felt like the exception because Chuuya kept calling him Randou during their fight.

I also think it's interesting that Chuuya calls most adults something to do with being old/older. I don't know whether it was intentional or not, but to me, this emphasizes how Chuuya is used to being solely around other children. Even Kouyou who is only nineteen, is labeled as older to Chuuya, probably because there were no Sheep her age. In both the anime and the manga they are all depicted as younger teens around the same age as Chuuya.

Ane-san is also a mafia title, so it could just be that, but I do think Chuuya is genuinely not used to being around adults and that not meaning danger.

[umblrspectrum]

hi heres art so you pay attention to me now go read the tags

[potato-lord-but-not]

cope 😔

[charlie-artlie]

needed to get this out of my system. dont come for me abt the timeline. its true in my heart

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Lan Wangji goes to Lotus Pier (No relation to the AU of the same name)

[First] Prev <–-> Next

[ejsuperstar]

Imagine you live in pelican town. The new farmer has been here a couple weeks now and seems to be settling in, except... He's picking the weirdest friend choices. Like sure it's not weird to befriend the local fisherman, especially when he has an interest in fishing himself, but you're pretty sure you've seen him rooting through the Saloon's garbage with the local homeless man. As well, he keeps harassing the poor guy who works at Joja even though you KNOW he doesn't want to be friends with him.

And since you're on the topic of weirdness, isn't it odd he seemingly runs everywhere at a full sprint? Or just... Eats entire raw fish while fishing for "energy reasons"...

...

Despite all that, it's too early to call him off putting or anything... He has been engaging in town traditions, and he's started helping out with the old community centre. He's probably like the rest of you. Someone with a few quirks, that will fit in with the valley great!

Surely he can't get any weirder... Right?