Lights Part 4

Why'd You Only Call Me When You're High?

In the warmth and safety of your bed you tried to ignore the way your phone was buzzing lost in the sheets. You had decided to stay home for once instead of letting your friends rope you into going to some party you didn’t want to be miserable at. Instead you’d enjoyed some alone time and crawled into bed as it had grown darker outside. Being home, on Earth, was still a surreal experience for you. But after the destruction of Alternia and the mass exodus of trolls fleeing the carnage you had slowly tried to come to terms with it. Which all yet again led to your predicament. Again your phone buzzed and giving into demands you picked it up and checked your messages. 

Most of them were pictures of the party you had declined to go to, all from Cirava. Scrolling mindlessly through them you paused on his last few texts. 

‘Where are you lmao’

‘Thought I saw you sneak out carrying your shoes’

‘I still need those back btw lol’

Sighing heavily you already knew the guy was higher than a damn kite. He usually was when he deigned to go to parties and if you weren’t with him he had a tendency to pull shit like this. Another message pinged through.

‘Must have been dreaming of bumping into you or something lmao’

It could have been a sweet compliment. Unfortunately things were never that simple. Letting the phone slip out of your grasp and back onto the bed you rolled over and tried to get some sleep. You’d managed to doze for a short bit before your phone began to buzz more insistently. Groaning in frustration you snatched it from your side and squinted angrily at the photoshopped image of Cirava on a moisturewave background. Rolling your eyes you hit decline on the call. Just as soon as you had done so the phone lit up again with his caller ID. Hitting decline again you checked the time and felt another swell of annoyance. 

‘Its 3 AM Cirava’

‘I’m tryna change your mind lmao’

‘Why’d you only call me when you’re high?’ 

Letting the phone fall onto your chest you tried to take a deep breath. He was just high and lonely. You didn’t want to be cruel but it was truthful, he really only called you when he was high. Always trying to talk you into something or another but tonight you were going to stay home and ignore it. You could apologize in the morning but not now, not tonight. Again your phone rang and in a fit of frustration you finally answered it, cutting Cirava off mid greeting. 

“Hi.” You replied flatly, “Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” 

“Lemme get somewhere darker.” He shouted over the music in the background, you knew he was only going to talk the same shit he always did. “I need a partner.” 

You sighed, doubting he could hear it over the noise. 

“Well, are you out tonight?” He continued. 

“Cirava its getting harder and harder to get you to listen, you know that right?” 

“What?” He shouted clearly not having heard you. 

“You’re incapable of making alright decisions, always having bad ideas.” 

“Its only three in the morning,” He scoffed, “and I’m tryin’ to change your mind.” 

You stayed silent. Frustration was back along with old hurt. 

“I left you multiple missed calls-,”

Unable to stand it anymore you cut him off.

“Why’d you only call me when you’re high?” You asked. Maybe it was the hurt talking or maybe you still wanted a genuine answer. Either way you knew you wouldn’t get one. For a moment the other side of the line was silent and you wondered if he’d hung up on you. 

“I can’t see you here.” He spoke, voice surprisingly subdued, “ Wonderin’ where I am.” 

What was that supposed to mean? Did he like jerking you around for his own amusement?

“It sort of feels like I’m runnin’ out of time.” He sighed, you could hear the rustle of fabric and realized abruptly that it was silent on the other side, “I haven’t found all I was hoping to find.” 

“Cirava-,”

“I know you said you gotta be up early in the morning, ‘gotta have an early night’, but I’m worried I’m startin’ to bore you, baby.” The use of the human pet name had you on edge. Cirava rarely bothered to use it. 

“Then call me when you’re no longer high.” You replied softer than you’d like. 

You knew he wouldn’t. 

He only called you when he was high. 

Together

Despite the fact the two of you were of a completely different species, you could safely say that you and Polypa had one of the closest relationships you possibly could have. It was why she had followed you across the vacuum of space and time, through countless realities, and had somehow yet again found you. She was someone you treasured above all. In this reality, where cultures mixed and divided and fought, you tried your best to do what she needed. There were times as a moirail you felt quite helpless- and others you felt at your element. Gathering every pillow, blanket, and sheet in your house as you headed towards your room was one of those ‘in your element’ days. Tossing the blankets onto the floor you stripped your bed and proceeded to empty out the floor of your closet. After years of doing all this your closet floor was decidedly bare- a few shoes and boxes and some clothes that had slipped off their hangers. Polypa wouldn’t care about the mess stacked next to your bed- what would matter would be the inside of the closet. A warm enclosed space filled with the scent of you. The first layer was the fitted sheets, pinning them to the floor so they stretched out, this was important for the mess you’d both make later. The second layer was the couch cushions and then the thin sheets. An elevated platform so you weren’t sleeping on the literal floor. You’d learned the hard way that it would hurt your back to continuously do that. From there you draped the duvets over the entire mound before putting the more comfortable pillows down. By the time the entire thing was done it looked like a nest. Perhaps the closest thing you could create to a feels jam pile. Wiping off your hands you gave it one more look over before leaving your bedroom. She had said she’d be there soon- which for Polypa was as vague as either an hour or five minutes. Passing by the thermostat you turned the heat up slightly before continuing to the kitchen. Tossing the popcorn into the microwave you rooted around in the fridge for some sodas.

“What movies are we watching tonight?”

“Jesus!”

You jumped whipping around to find Polypa sitting on your counter. Giving you a mischievous grin she continued to wind her usual bandages around one of her legs.

“Well?” She asked after you had calmed down.

“We’re watching The Notebook and Where The Lovely Indigo Attempts To Start A Matespritship With A Cavalreaper Unaware That They Are The Moirail To Their Kismesis Who Wishes To Pursue A Red Relationship With Them.” You personally hated how long troll movie names were, always a mouthful that was more the synopsis of the movie than leaving anything to surprise. Then again you appreciated they were up front about the plot. Humming appreciatively Polypa tucked the remaining bandage away and hopped off the counter.

“Subbed or dubbed?”

“There’s options for both.”

“Good.”

“We’re watching The Notebook first.”

“Why?”

“Because your movie is four hours long.” You deadpanned earning an unrepentant grin.

“Well if that’s the case then we’re watching Alternian anime tonight too.”

“Troll Naruto?”

“Troll Guren Laagan.”

“I hate you.”

“Pale for you too.” She looked entirely too smug as she grabbed the popcorn, dumping it into the large olive green bowl you had out. She knew that the show always made you cry- even worse than the human Guren Laagan did. Following behind her with your drinks you couldn’t help but smile despite that. You’d both be crying by the time the credits rolled but at least you’d be enjoying the time spent together.

Just like you always did.

Hey just checking that youre ok!

I'm doing well! Just been busy with my job and real life in general. Haven't had as much time to write as I'd like but at least I'm making some money lol

Hey! Your writing was awesome! I've just discovered Marvus and his clowny glory a little but ago. So I've been binging his tags. Can I get a thing about his makeup? Kinda like Clowndaydreams' post about it if you want some direction! Thank youuuu! (O3<)~♡

Babe, you have no idea the power you just handed me. Like. Words cannot express the unholy glee that currently possesses me. I am gonna assume you want headcanons instead of an actual fic but if you wanted an actual fic feel free to send in another ask. Thank you so much for the compliment by the way! I’m glad people are enjoying my writing! I’m also gonna apologise because I wasn’t exactly sure what all you wanted me to cover and couldn’t really find the post mentioned (tumblr likes to test me some days I swear) so if I missed something or didn’t get it right just pop up in my inbox again no sweat! 

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Okay so to start this off:

- Clowns get personal when it comes to the paint. It's a huge part of their identity and while things about the paint can change with time- it's all extremely well thought out. 

- Marvus is not an exception to this. Every part of his persona lends to his paint and vise versa. 

- Clowns, as a virtue, are rarely ever barefaced. If you manage to see one without their makeup then you’re both in it for the long haul. 

- Marvus is a little more touchy about the paint than others would assume. There are a lot of people who want to know what he looks like underneath and so he’s extremely hesitant to get anywhere near close enough to someone for something like that. He’s extremely wary when it starts getting to that point and has crashed and burned some of his own relationships out of fear that they’re just gonna snap some pictures and run for the hills.  

- You will know when he’s getting to that point because your man is suddenly showing the worse of himself in the days coming up to it. He’s putting you through the gauntlet just to make absolutely sure you’re as committed as he is in this relationship. 

- One would assume that he’d take it off to sleep and to a point- yes. He does. Usually. But Marvus isn’t about to risk it with a quad. There’s gonna be a lot of sleeping separately when he’s truly, honestly, sleeping. Naps can be had together as he’s naturally prone to wake up at the slightest hint of a disturbance. But just sleeping together where he’s down and out for the count? Nope. Which brings me to another point.

- Marvus putting you through the gauntlet (which is almost like he’s suddenly flipping quads on you- he isn’t but it feels like it) is also him sleeping over a lot more. He stays up until you fall asleep though. Its his contemplation time which is really just him overthinking lol. 

-When he does show you what his bare face looks like you’re gonna notice a sudden flip back to being the dumbass you know and love complete with an apology. He’s gonna go back to being sweet for a while. When you’re settling back in is when he’s gonna pull this off. He asks to spend the night which isn’t unusual anymore and when you go to bed he’ll wait a moment before washing off the paint and joining you. You might not notice until morning when he’s in the bathroom putting it back on again. 

- How you react is how well this is gonna go over. Try not to make a big deal out of it as you being calm will keep Marvus calmed. Make no mistake, he looks nonchalant about this but its a huge thing for him and if you act like its a big deal he’s gonna get a little shy about it. Cringing away from it all until he gets used to it. You being calm, however, means that he’s gonna settle into this quicker. 

- I kind of derailed for a moment so whoops. Let me rectify that!

-I headcanon clown face ‘paint’ as being a pretty wide variety of things. Like most clowns use greasepaint but there's more than just that. There’s powder-based, regular face paint like the type you’d get at a fair, airbrush styled, and more. It just depends on the troll. 

- Marvus does not use greasepaint. He uses either the powder-based stuff which is a lot like human makeup and less lightly to get runny or melt when he’s performing or the airbrushed type. Both are extremely resilient and damn near impossible to smudge. Which is perfect for him even if it means a little extra scrubbing to remove it. 

- For clowns putting on the paint is fairly ritualistic. There’s no damn way you’re gonna be allowed to put it on them for them. Though Marvus may be convinced to let you watch and/or hand him the things he needs. Even that much is considered pushing it but Marvus is noticeably more relaxed than others if you manage to get to that point. 

- However, if you ever reach up and smooth out a little uneven line? Marvus is probably gonna look at you like you’re his entire world. Which at that point you pretty much are. 

- As far as makeup goes its a fairly universal thing in Alternian culture. At least in more modern times. Its like how makeup is on earth though clowns put a more personal take on it. 

- He’s not gonna bat an eye at your own makeup if you have it. Hell, he’s gonna wanna tag along to see what you like and where you go to get it. He’s also gonna know what makeup you use the most of and will be keeping it stocked in his hive and also with him on tour on the off chance you happen to drop in. He’s got you in this regard. 

- I should mention that if you were to turn this into a two way street, Marvus is gonna get real emotional real quick. Its a culture difference thing. For clowns keeping another’s paint- especially the exact type the other uses for them?- is a way of saying you’re in this forever. Now, Marvus isn’t gonna assume things with this because he knows the other castes don’t have such a heavy emphasis on this shit and assumes its a similar thing with humans. Its gonna lead to a pretty long discussion and probably one of the few times he’s gonna be serious. He may even drop the quirk just to make sure the point gets across. 

- If you still insist though? Good luck ever getting rid of him. Or rather, you’re gonna have to hold him back from trying to get at anyone- and I do mean anyone- trying at the quad you share with him. He also extends this same violence to others that think they can jeopardize his quad by flirting and getting handsy with him. Marvus may be the alpha fuckboi amongst the fuckbrothers of the fuckboi fraternity but at this point? He is certainly not as lackadaisical about people coming onto him as he used to be. There is now a hard limit set in place and people better respect it. He’s gonna be a little more violence-prone until everything settles and he feels secure in the relationship again. You might have to bodily get between him and a few people (looking at Zebruh as the only fool stupid enough to push his luck) but the violence is pretty easy to distract from. 

Lights Part 3

There’s a pleasant warmth curled around you and the heaviness of the comforter that’s got you feeling like a very loved burrito makes it hard to open your eyes. You’re struggling to not keep blinking continuously but its a difficult task, you’re warm, you’re comfortable, and you’ve got no where to be. The arm wrapped around your stomach drags you closer as your eyes sag closed-

You’re wide awake in an instant. Heart hammering and lungs seizing as you go absolutely rigid. You don’t invite people into your house anymore, especially not into your bed, those are your sacred little spaces that you crawl into to feel secure. But you can feel the person- sleep heavy- curled along your back in an awkward spooning position with an arm and leg thrown over you. Warm breath tickling the back of your neck that suddenly feels too exposed. You’re too exposed and there is someone in your bed and you can’t breathe and-

The leg that was thrown over you is removed and there are hands dragging you upright and a vaguely familiar voice murmuring something close enough to your face you can feel the puffs of air each word makes. It’s not until hands are cupping your jaw and the words level out into a constant soothing hush of consolation that you finally realize who’s kneeling over your lap and looking lost and upset. Polypa’s eyes are wide with worry as her voice seizes up and relaxes against the chattering cicada noise that wants to come out. She settles for a stream of constant shushing noises that buzz just a bit the closer to panic she comes. She’s never seen you like this. Never seen or realized exactly how messed up Alternia had left you. It claws at her mind and whispers the horrible thought of failing as a moirail that she never noticed. That she never pried even when you seemed just fine. She should have. She should know exactly what’s keeping you up at night and what sends you into a blind panic. Polypa should have known where you lived too. As a moirail these were basic things that helped build the foundation of a stable diamond. The fact she didn’t have the faintest clue about any of it was enough for olive tinted tears to well up in the corners of her eyes. After everything you had simply fallen off the map, complete radio silence, Polypa had looked everywhere for you. The mall was the last place she ever thought to bump into you and the elation she had felt had been short lived at the absolutely shattered look in your eyes. The way you had simply crumbled at the slightest gentle touch had felt like a sucker punch to the gut. 

“It’s alright, it’s going to be alright, just breathe for me.” You took in a stuttering breath following along to the gentle breathing that Polypa was trying to coach you into. You were safe, you were home, you were in bed, and Polypa had spent the night after the most intense and dissociative feelings jam of your life. It was fine. Slowly you began to calm down. The two of you would need to have that talk you’d been dreading. The one where you had to tell her everything and wait for her to decide whether she was going to sign up for dealing with your bullshit or throw herself out the window to get as far away from your flaming dumpster fire as she could. For a moment you debated lying out your ass and saying you’ve just been having a horrible week and leaving it at that. The thought was abandoned as quickly as it formed. Polypa’s eyes were earnest and bordering desperate. She wanted- and by extension needed- to hear the truth. No matter how much it’d feel like pulling teeth. 

“We need to talk.” You finally sighed out, shoulders slumping as the fight left you. She tensed and you realized how bad that probably sounded. “It- Its- Hey, Polypa, its not... Well okay its bad but- just let me explain?” Preferably in the kitchen where you could sit at the table and talk this out like rational adults. Even if you felt like a frightened preteen about to spill their guts for the first time. It took a few more reassurances that you were more or less okay and that you weren’t about to kick her out to get her to let you up. From there you grabbed some drinks from your fridge and took a seat at the little kitchen table you had set up. Polypa drummed her claws along the can of soda you’d handed her- a nervous tick you’d adopted from her long ago. You weren’t sure where to even start with this. A confession of how pale you still were for her? Word vomit about the time just before landing on Alternia? Or straight to the chase? Running a hand through your hair as your foot bounced nervously you took a deep breath. 

“When...” You had to clear your throat past the lump in it, “When I first landed on Alternia... I-,” A shuddering breath left you and you had to close your eyes for a moment to keep from bursting into tears. To keep from becoming an incoherent babbling mess. It took Polypa’s hand covering one of your own to get back what little composure you had. 

“You don’t have to tell me everything now.” She offered in the silence as you tried to collect your words again. Tempted as you were to take her up on that you knew she deserved to know. 

“When I first landed on Alternia there was something wrong with me. I knew something was wrong but for the life of me couldn’t figure out what it might be. So I pushed it aside for the thrill of making friends. Of meeting new people. It wasn’t until I left that I finally realized what happened. What was wrong...” She was staring at you with such rapt attention you felt like a bug pinned to a cork board. “I was... It- I- shit... Everything that happened on Alternia felt fake, like I was some chess piece on a board waiting for someone to make a move. A pawn. And I... I was. I was a pawn. The man... The-,” Your fists clenched at the memory, “Doc fucking Scratch.” You barked out venomously teeth grinding with the force of it. It was the first time you’d allowed yourself to say his name. To speak it into existence. For once you weren’t afraid it’d bring him down upon you like a swarm of locusts. No, for once you wanted to wrap your hands around that puppet’s felt fucking neck and squeeze. Sucking in a deep breath you continued on. “He fucked with my mind Polypa. I was a backseat passenger to a shit show I had no control over. Everything I ever did was mapped out and if I made a wrong choice? I wound up in a groundhog style remake of that moment until I made the correct decision. I died Polypa, I remember every death- every bad ending- every time I had to stare down at one of my friends and know that I killed them! And then I’d blink and I’d be back where I started staring down at the choices I was allowed to make and praying I’d get it right this time. He took all my words and twisted them to fit his narrative. I was there to make the right friends and then be tossed aside when there was no use for me. And when he plucked me out of the narrative again and gave me back my at least some of my mind I fucking spiraled. I went about making more friends because I couldn’t do anything else. Because that fucker took my memories from me so that I would continue in a loop until it killed me. And when I finally snapped out of it I tore everything to shreds to get to him. I destroyed entire timelines just so I could burn everything that pompous bastard held dear to the ground. And I succeeded. At least partially... The next time I woke up I was sleeping in a motel room in some place I’d never even heard of. I found a job and I scraped up enough to get a decent place, I knew that everyone was still out there. I did. I just couldn’t bring myself to play the game again. Even if it was all in my head.” Tears were dripping off the tip of your nose as you stared down at your fist and Polypa’s hand still placed over yours. It took her choking out your name for you to finally look her in the face. Olive tears were streaming down her cheeks and she looked miserable. Like you had ripped the heart from her chest and stomped it into the dirt. 

“Everything you did was against your will?” Her voice was so small and for a moment you almost agreed. But that wasn’t what she was really asking. Reaching out you took her hands in yours and squeezed as tightly as you could. 

“The time we spent together was the closest I ever got to being myself. If it’s one thing I’d do over and over and over again it would be becoming your moirail. Never doubt that Polypa. Never.” A small keen left her lips and then you suddenly found yourself with a lap full of blubbering troll. Her claws were digging through the shirt you wore as her arms squeezed you like a vice. Words practically unintelligible and at least mostly in Alternian bubbled out of her in a tormented jumble. More tears gathered in your eyes as you cradled her close and started crying in earnest. You had your moirail back, of her own choice, and the dam you’d kept everything behind finally burst. 

A pair of captors for 22:22 2/22/22! Happy twosday!

hi idk if you like to hear other peoples headcanons so if you dont pls ignore but i want to talk to SOMEONE about my silly purpleblood headcanon

-

alright so; face paint. i dont particularly like the "every purpleblood is a clown" thing (but if you do then hell yeah go off love is real) as it kinda limits the character variety of that caste, but i DO like the face paint as a detail so ive settled with this: i headcanon that the face paint purples are prone to wear is not a Clown thing nor a Cult thing, but a cultural thing. all (or most) purplebloods wear a coat of face paint to symbolically conceal themselves. showing your bare face to someone youre not close/in a quadrant with is seen as a taboo in purpleblood cultures. additionally, letting a quadantmate/close friend see ones face is probably the biggest sign of trust a purple can do (depending on how they feel about the tradition). and having them HELP WASH IT OFF??? ough, now thats /tender/.

I need you to understand that I am ABSOLUTELY FERAL over this idea and it goes perfect with an older headcanon thing I did a while back

Here: https://www.tumblr.com/morsartis/639719797773549568/hey-your-writing-was-awesome-ive-just?source=share

AND LISTEN- LISTEN-

NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR SENDING ME YOUR OWN HEADCANONS I LOVE THAT SHIT.

God okay but like, the TENDERNESS??? Of washing off your big purples paint??? The damn SWEETNESS and TRUST of being allowed to help them apply it in the mornings???

NO ONE TOUCH ME IM NOT OKAY

EDIT: YES! Yes I love talking about other peoples headcanons! TALK TO ME ABOUT THE HEAD CANONS-

I'm glad you liked it so much! The sailor moon gif made my day. Again I'm terribly sorry it took me so long! But please feel free to request more if you'd like!

Nightmares Marvus x Reader

Heart trying to escape out of your throat you sat up in your bed breathing hard. For a moment you could still hear the sounds of the alarms on your little rocket ship blaring in alert as you crashed into Alternia’s surface. But as you began to wake more you realized you were safe- Alternia long behind you. Trembling from adrenaline you shakily threw off your blankets and slipped out of bed. Your legs felt weak, fawn-like as you wandered out of Marvus’ guest room. For the life of you, you couldn’t figure out what had triggered the nightmare. It had been years since that night, you weren’t even on Alternia anymore. Trying to calm yourself you stumbled into the kitchen and took a seat at the island. It was nothing. Nothing at all. You had experienced much worse than the shuttle crash since then and came out on the other side. Out of all the nightmares you had had since then it baffled and frustrated you that the crash was the most frequent of all. Behind you was the shuffle of feet and you nearly jumped out of your skin as you turned to find Marvus shuffling into the kitchen.

“Hey lil buddy was up?” He asked tiredly, voice gravelly from sleep. Guilt over waking him nearly choked you. 

“I didn’t mean to wake you.” You spoke softly.

“Nah, don’ worry bout it. What’s wrong? Y’look like you seen some shit.” 

“It was just an old nightmare. Nothing I can’t handle.”

That just made Marvus frown as he came to sit beside you, dragging his stool close enough your knees brushed. 

“Wanna talk bout it?”

“Not… Not really.”

Marvus sighed, reaching out to lay his hand on your leg in a soothing gesture. His thumb rubbed at the exposed skin, his cold hands remarkably grounding as you fought down the shivers of phantom panic. 

“I know I ain’t yo diamond or nothin’ but you do be knowin’ I still care bout you right?”

“Of course.” 

“But you still don’ wanna talk bout it.” 

“Its an old nightmare Marvus, comes back up every once in awhile. But its over now. That’s what matters.” 

“Still hurtin’ you somethin’ fierce though.” 

“Marvus.” You sighed. He glanced away with a clear scowl before shaking his head. 

“I don’ like seein’ you this worked up. ‘Specially when there ain’t a damn thing to do bout it.”

“I know. I’m sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t.” He spoke voice surprisingly firm, you glanced up at him to find him staring at you intently, almost angrily, “Don’t apologize. I don like the thought of you jus’ hidin’ away til your thinkpan’s on straight. Ain’t right.” 

“People have nightmares all the time.”

“Yeah? Well you ain’t jus’ people to me.”

You could feel the tears burning at your eyes, the stress of your nightmare rearing its ugly head. For a brief moment it was as if the deafening screech of metal was all around you again. Taking a deep breath you placed your hand on top of his. 

“Thanks Marvus.” 

His other hand came up to carefully wipe the tears from your eyes. Movements gentle as his thumb caressed your cheek. 

“What can I do?” He asked after a moment when the tears just kept coming. 

“I don’t…” More tears welled in your eyes blurring his face, “I don’t know.”

What a terrifying thought. The realization you didn’t know what would make you feel better at all. His hand brushed across your cheek again, then past it until he was carefully cupping the back of your head. He tilted you forwards as he leaned down until your foreheads were touching.

“That’s okay. Lemme jus’ take care of ya.” He spoke, voice soft. He tilted away from you to place a kiss to your scalp. “Don’ worry bout nothin’.” 

A shuddering breath left you as he deftly moved to lift you into his arms, wrapping your arms around his neck you buried your head in his shoulder. Tears were burning at your eyes, trailing down your cheeks more insistent than before as you wrapped your legs around his legs. 

“I’ve got you. Ain’t nothin’ gon’ get you tonight, babe.” Claws rubbing soothingly up and down your back you allowed yourself to cry openly. Sobbing without restraint into his shoulder as he carried you back to bed. He wouldn’t shush you, the comfort he offered was different than what Polypa offered as your moirail. But it was more than you expected to receive and genuine. So very genuine. You knew he’d cleave the world in two if you asked and it terrified you as much as it soothed you. 

But tonight you could admit that it was what you needed. To know you were safe, to know you were loved, it was enough.

Gay month is GO

Modern Fantasy Headcanons #1

While its more common in wealthier private schools, children can choose to take a nonhuman language. In recent years some forms of elvish are slowly being introduced into public education as an elective and most students can choose to take nonhuman history if they wish to learn more about other creatures beyond The Fae Wars. 

However, mixed schools have shown that a surprising number of children will pick up on each others languages and learn them that way. This has caused quite a few calls home when a student uses a bit of slang that a teacher is not familiar with and is assumed to be something insulting (this- rather interestingly- only seems to be the case in a half of the situations). In some cases children, especially younger ones, have no idea they are learning a different language at all. 

Some schools with a student mentor program find putting two different races together leads to the older teaching the younger their language for easier communication. A desertion piece by Dr. Lightfoot called ‘Why Your Children Talk The Way They Do’ goes further in depth on the subject of shared languages amongst children and teens. 

When asked why the children started learning a nonhuman language the answers ranged from ‘to communicate more fluidly’ to ‘enjoying the sound of it’.