#seeking revenge

[annestie]

Revenge

Summary: Ao'nung offers his help along with an apology. Neteyam takes the opportunity for his own revenge

Pairing: Pre-relationship Ao'nung x Neteyam

Word Count: 757

Notes: For Day 12: Malice of @bellakotzent Valentine's Week Challenge.

I got the idea of Neteyam seeking revenge but in a way that wouldn't get him in trouble and just ran with it. This is probably one of my favorite ones I've written for this challenge. Also woo! Finally one where I didn't age-up the characters lmao.

Neteyam looks to Ao’nung, a confused expression falling over his face. “You want what?” he questions.

“I want to apologize. I spoke with your siblings and what I did was not right. I am sorry,” Ao’nung says, sounding genuine.

“Why should I believe any word you say?” Neteyam asks in return, crossing his arms.

“Lo’ak said we were even, and we talked. I promise. He also called me ‘bro’.”

“And that should make me believe you?”

“Well, talk with them if you wish. I have a reason for coming to you.”

“Which is?”

“Is there anything I could repay you with for what I have done?”

“Anything?” Neteyam confirms, ideas already forming in his head as he looks at Ao’nung.

The first thing that Neteyam thinks of is, of course, lessons and chores he either needs help with or must be done soon. But then, the idea of some harmless revenge gets into his head. He’s not a revenge seeking person, especially at those who could compromise the safety of his family, though the idea of getting back at Ao’nung without any consequences makes him giddy.

Which is why Neteyam is now waiting for Ao’nung to show up beside the forest. Not only were they to spend the day climbing trees, they’re starting early in the morning. Just after the eclipse ends, the sun not even lighting up the sky yet.

Ao’nung shows up soon after. He groggy and half-awake, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. “So what did you need with?” Ao’nung asks through a yawn.

“I need help with collecting some fruit,” Neteyam explains, trying to act as unsuspecting as possible.

“Seems easy enough. I see you already have a basket, so where do we begin?” Ao’nung asks. He glances around the outside of the forest.

“Actually, the fruit I need only grows at the top of the trees,” Neteyam says, pointing to the treetops of the mangroves.

If Ao’nung wasn’t awake, he was now. His eyes practically bulge out of his head and it takes everything in Neteyam not to start laughing at his expression. “What? That tree?!” Ao’nung says, looking up in horror at said tree.

“Not that specific one but one like it, yes.”

A beat passes between the two of them before Ao’nung slowly turns to Neteyam, defeated. “Alright,” he says resigned. “Which one?”

Neteyam immediately leads Ao’nung into the forest. He looks around, searching for the right one as he hadn’t the chance to really choose one yet. Though, he’s surrounded by them so it’s not hard.

He ends up choosing a tree after a few minutes of walking. The tree is tall, obviously; is an easy climb for Neteyam, but not easy enough that Ao’nung could do it effortlessly; and has no fruit on it. Plus, the ground is cushioned with other plants to break any falls. It’s perfect.

“This one,” Neteyam announces, already hooking his basket onto his arm and beginning to pull himself up one of the roots.

“This one?” Ao’nung questions. “Really?”

“Yes,” Neteyam says. “Now come, we do not have all day.”

The climb isn’t hard but the way Ao’nung goes about it doesn’t makes it look so. His posture is wrong and only makes everything more difficult, not that Neteyam tells him that. And the way he goes about traversing between branches makes Neteyam want to cringe.

Surprisingly, Ao’nung only falls five times in total. All in the beginning and all cushioned by the soft foliage below as Neteyam had predicted.

After many hours, they finally reach the top. Neteyam’s sure he could have done it in much less time if he hadn’t needed to wait for Ao’nung. At the top, as expected, there is nothing besides a good view of the ocean.

“Where is the fruit?” Ao’nung questions, looking around. He grips tightly to the branches around him.

“I guess this tree does not fruit in this season,” Neteyam responds, glancing over to Ao’nung.

“So we spent the entire day climbing for nothing?” Ao’nung says, sweat dripping down his face as he pants.

“Not for nothing. I thought watching you fall was amusing,” Neteyam replies.

The realization on Ao’nung’s face is instant. “You…” he beings, but his words fall short.

“You said anything,” Neteyam replies with a smirk.

“You knew? It is past midday already! I could have died!”

“I would not have let you die. Besides, you almost got Lo’ak killed.”

“Is this your idea of revenge?”

“Pretty much.”

“I would have preferred you just punching me in the face!”

[coolgirl4eva]

I used to have this playlist this beautiful, fucking playlist, called Feeling alt and it was just as beautiful combination of Indie hits in pop melodies like I was totally living in a fucking Renaissance a dream I didn’t even realize until it was gone. It was taken from me by the fucking APPLE DEMONS. and I honestly haven’t listened to music the same since, I haven’t studied the same since, I haven’t LIVED the same since. Like that playlist was like a every day moment for me that is just GONE now.

R.I.P feeling alt ~ gone, but never forgotten. I miss you every day. Thinking about you constantly.🤧



[autobot2001]

Testing His Pain Tolerance

Author: Autobot2001 Genre: Fanfiction Fandom: Transformers Rating: E Warnings: None Pairing: Drift X Jamie (OC) Description: While injured, Crosshairs worries about Jamie. Especially since she wants to deal with the soldiers who hurt him. He struggles with the pain from his injury. contained from day 6.

@marchofpain day 8; broken

Crosshairs and Drift ask Lightning to bring Jamie to the medbay. The terror twins go with them. With the strong pain medicine, Crosshairs lets Jamie on the bed, and he hugs her. “I’ll be ok. You know what Optimus would say,” Crosshairs tells Jamie. Jamie is not pleased that she’s told to not deal with the soldiers. The others wonder how Crosshairs will deal with the long recovery. Sideswipe keeps Jamie’s visit short. He takes Jamie to play video games. “You are encouraging her,” Crosshairs accuses Sunstreaker. “No, I said nothing. She came to me. I told her no.” “She’s mad about what happened,” Drift adds, “like Sunstreaker, she thinks dealing with the afts is necessary.” “I’m worried her anger will continue as you recover.” “We need to deal with that,” Lightning adds. “I can keep her busy,” Sunstreaker assures the other three. “I think she should stay with me,” Crosshairs adds, “I know seeing me hurt angers her, but I think she’ll want to be with me.” The three talk about how to deal with Jamie’s anger.

Ratchet discharges Crosshairs from the medbay in time for dinner. Despite the pain medication remaining in his system for another two hours, Crosshairs is advised to exercise caution. He’s happy the cafeteria doesn’t use benches. The chair feels comfortable on his broken ribs. Drift insists on getting his dinner for him. Jamie sits next to Crosshairs, searching for the soldiers who hurt him. “We’ll deal with them,” Optimus tells Jamie, “they committed a crime. How are you doing, Crosshairs?” “Ok, for now.” Optimus nods and walks away. A few minutes pass before Drift, Lightning, and the twins return to the table. Drift has Crosshairs and Jamie’s dinners. The friends had already made plans for tonight. There is a slight change to their routine, as Crosshairs wants to see if a bath will help with the pain, and Drift would rather be around in case Crosshairs needs help.

Crosshairs slowly gets in the tub, immediately feeling relief. He took a pitcher from the kitchen to wash his hair. He got the soap to wash his body, aware it might be pointless while in a tub of water. Drift had offered to help since Ratchet said Crosshairs would feel pain while raising his arms, but Crosshairs can do it himself with the pain killers working.

Pain intensifies as Crosshairs exits the tub. Even wrapping a towel around his waist hurts. Drift notices as Crosshairs walks out of the bathroom. Drift helps him to the couch. Uncertain if Crosshairs could make it to his bed. “Frag, this fragging hurts,” Crosshairs pants. He’s not getting dressed, even if I help him. Drift believes. Drift gets the pain relief from Crosshairs’ nightstand and fills Crosshairs’ water bottle. Crosshairs takes the pills, but he knows he cannot move for a while. “It’s only eight; I doubt Jamie will be back soon,” Drift says. “Good.” Drift sits next to Crosshairs and turns on the TV. He still can’t believe soldiers attacked Crosshairs. Crosshairs listens to what’s on the TV. Drift gets a towel to dry Crosshairs rather than leave him soaking wet.

Thirty minutes pass before Crosshairs can move. He smirks at Drift, covering his eyes as he gets dressed. Crosshairs picks comfortable clothes, deciding not to worry about getting dressed tomorrow. “You going to avoid getting changed until your ribs heal?” “That’ll be at least six weeks, so no. The bath helped, but I stayed in there too long and forgot to take my pain relief on time.” Crosshairs moves to his bed, Seeing Drift already prepared his bed to sleep with the broken ribs. He hopes the additional pillows don’t make it hard to sleep. He is unsure of what to do, as he was instructed not to watch TV or read.

An hour passes before Lightning and Jamie walk into the room. Crosshairs tells them he’s fine. Lightning only stays for a short time. He ices one last time before going to bed. Crosshairs said nothing to Drift, but he’s worried about Jamie sneaking out to find the soldiers, who he’s certain have been arrested by now. Not being used to sleeping only on his back, Crosshairs struggles to fall asleep. He’s already not looking forward to the next six weeks.

[thatsbelievable]

[pluvionpc]

anidala as…

Homecoming by Hans Adolf Bühler, 1939

(disclaimer: not meant to reference or support original artist’s views or intent)

“‘No.’ He laid a gentle finger on her lips, smiling down at her. ‘No buts. No worries. You worry too much as is.’

‘I have to,’ she said, smiling through the tears in her eyes. ‘Because you never worry at all.’”

— Matthew Stover, Revenge of the Sith Novelization

[ original + rambles under the cut ]

sometimes i think about the realness of anidala’s stories. boys much too young sent off to war; their lovers taking on the emotional burden of being their relief. i think about how padmé, as a senator, would have her own struggles and worries to face alongside stressing that her teenage husband wasn’t going to return from the frontlines. i wonder if she was able to talk about it when they met up, the same way we see her constantly listening to his ongoing turmoil— especially during the latter half of the war. or, maybe, they just sat together. two people charging head-first into different types of battles because they felt they had no other options. i have to do this.

[letsduneit]

thinking about paul saying "we're harkonnens. so this is how we'll survive. by being harkonnens" and about jessica saying "your father didn't believe in revenge" and paul replying "yeah well i do" and how things can die even as they continue to draw breath and how the harkonnens really did kill off all three of the atreides that night not just leto

[drenched-in-sunlight]

this is how they are in my head

[viv-url]

[sparkles-rule-4eva]

SHADOW'S GENUINE, EARNEST SMILE.

[demilypyro]

hey supergiant. where's zagreus

[harriertail]

exile

[deunmiu-dessie]

𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐦 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧.

( unedited ) john price soothes you.

the human mind is truly remarkable.

thick, dark blood stains your soft hands carmine, sullies your face in dotted speckles, and dribbles from the knife in languid rivulets that bead on your thighs. at the sound of his heavy booted footfalls, you gaze up at john with wide terrified eyes, the kitchen blade slipping from your slick clasp and clattering onto the tiled floor. your mouth is parted to take in slow, shallow metallic tasting breaths, body shivering in the cold pool of blood you sit in. “no, no i–”

your eyes settle back onto the lifeless body at your bare feet and tears burn behind your eyes as bile attempts to crawl its acidic form from the depths of your throat. your lashes flutter wildly, eyes darting from the body and then down to your bloodied palms, which you futilely attempt to cleanse on the smooth fabric of your silk nightgown, only succeeding in spreading the crimson stains further up your arms.

john casts a fleeting look over his shoulder at his men briefly, a silent signal of reassurance before he gradually lowers his weapon and advances towards you. your frightened eyes dart to him, and he watches as you hastily retreat, knees slipping in the blood and body pressing against the cold wall as you shrink into yourself. "i didn't, h-he tried to⎯ no, i didn't do it, s-swear," you stammer softly, voice quivering with desperation as you attempt to explain yourself; eyes fixed upon the body just a few meters away.

it saves itself, blurring, altering, and blocking traumatic events. psychological repression.

disregarding the body, john descends into a squatting position, placing his firearm on the floor, a gesture intended to instill a sense of security within you. then he starts a slow trek forward, his hands extended in front of him, reminiscent of someone approaching a frightened animal. "s'alright, i believe you. we're not here to hurt you," however, wide, fearful, innocent eyes look doubtful, distrusting, and glassy.

he continues his slow advance as you continuously attempt to explain the lifeless body of your employer. "and i— i tried to p-push him away, b-but he was too strong," john emits soft, barely audible hums, he hears you, he’s listening. but they needed to go, and now; it wasn't safe for you anymore. as he approaches, he finally reaches a point where he can delicately cradle your blood-splattered face in his glove-covered hands, waiting patiently until your wild eyes meet his understanding gaze. because he understands.

the tears you had so desperately tried to hold in spill down your cheeks hotly. a faint whisper escapes your lips, “i didn't do it.” but you did, he knew you did. laswell knew, his team knew. the men on their way to kill you, knew. he gave you a reassuring smile, small and intimate. “i know.” the day's events finally catch up with you, and you collapse into his embrace, succumbing to unconsciousness.

often without the individual even realizing it.

[mrtequilasunset]

Highkey so sad to see Kim's character get butchered by people who see Harry as whichever addict wronged them in their life.

[prettyboyarts]

sometimes i get really sad thinking about mia and how short her life got cut. like. she was 27 but still had so much ahead of her. she was going to avenge and find her mom and her boyfriend was comatose and she waited every single day for him to wake up because she loved him and she still had maya and pearl to care for and protect from their aunt and she had phoenix to watch grow and develop as a lawyer. and all of that was taken away because some corrupt capitalist with horrible fashion sense didn’t want his reputation ruined.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

VINCENT PRICE as Dr. Phibes --

The ABOMINABLE DR. PHIBES (1971) dir. Robert Fuest

[mia-nina-lilly]

I firmly believe that Jurdan parenting is basically the bad cop/good cop dynamic when your baby does something wrong. You agree with me so much that I don't even need to tell you who would be the bad, nor who would be the good.