#you childish cretin

[teyamskxawng]

The Fight [I]

Neteyam Sully x Fem!Omatikaya!Reader

Next Part Here

The rundown: The beach fight scene but make it Reader vs Aonung and he gets his ass beat LMAO. Ft. jealous, possessive (and lowkey oblivious) Neteyam having a crisis over the reader.

Warnings: language, bullying, slight violence, brief mention of the reader's deceased parents, Aonung bashing (but only for the purposes of this fic!! i fr trust Aonung's character arc), characters are aged up

WC: 8.8k

A/N: Don't even ask lol, I just wanted reader to be a badass. Second half of the fic delves into Neteyam's feelings and such. I'll prob finish this in like 1 or 2 more parts, so stay tuned for that! :)

Kiri was sprawled out on her stomach in a shallow area of the beach, her face entirely submerged in the crisp, clear water. Intently, she observed a tiny hole dug into the sand, a hub of activity for little critters periodically scurrying in and out.

Meanwhile, you sat beside her, equally entranced by the little wonder of nature the two of you had chanced upon during your mid-afternoon beach excursion.

Just as you lifted your head out of the water to catch your breath and stretch your neck, you felt vibrations from approaching footsteps and hushed voices carried by the sea breeze. Recognizing the voices, you quickly realized that it was Aonung and his band of goons lurking by the shore.

One of the guys pointed a webbed finger at you and Kiri, making it blatantly obvious that you two were the center of their group's conversation.

With a sly smirk and an obnoxiously loud voice, the boy asked his friends, "What are they doing?"

A chorus of laughter erupted among the group, immediately setting off alarms in your mind. You staunchly stood by Kiri, prepared to defend your friend against any potential ridicule or harm.

Meanwhile, Kiri remained blissfully unaware of all that was transpiring above water. Her head still submerged beneath gentle waves, she continued to marvel at the underwater world without a clue about the brewing laughter above.

Aonung scratched his head in mock confusion before turning to his friends and sarcastically asking, "Is she some kind of…freak?"

This wisecrack immediately set you on edge.

You gently shook Kiri's shoulder, calling out her name in a bid to get her attention but not startle her. Dazed and still somewhat out of the loop, Kiri lifted her head out of the water. Blinking the sea from her eyes, she groggily replied, "Huh? What did you say?"

The guys around you couldn't contain their childish amusement, snickering as they watched the scenario unfold.

Kiri's puzzled gaze finally fell upon the boisterous crowd surrounding them. "Oh." She replied, her entire demeanor deflating.

One of the guys chimed in condescendingly as if addressing a toddler trying to understand a grown-up conversation. "He asked if you were a freak," he smirked.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes in disdain, doing your best to suppress the growing urge to smack that smug grin off the little cretin's face. He looked like he belonged in a cage.

"Kiri, let's get out of here. These fish fuckers actually think that they're funny." You threw a venomous glare at the boys, allowing your piercing stare to linger just a fraction longer on Aonung–the one you least expected this behavior from.

As the son of the Metkayina chief, you assumed he would be different, a sharper contrast to his counterparts. You couldn't help comparing Aonung unfavorably to Neteyam, whose father was the late Omatikayan chief.

Neteyam carried himself with poise and grace far removed from Aonung's immature antics. Further adding salt to Aonung's proverbial wound was how unlike his little sister Tsireya he seemed to be. Although she was young, Tsireya radiated kindness and welcomed you and the Sully kids with open arms from the first day you arrived.

Aonung shot you a smug, sly smirk, allowing his eyes to flit up and down your figure, causing an uneasy sensation to skitter across your skin like an unwanted insect.

With sudden haste, fueled by the desire to escape, your hand shot out and latched onto Kiri's arm–maybe gripping with a bit too much force–as you seized the opportunity to depart from the presence of the immature boys.

Dragging Kiri out of the water with determination, you guided her toward the safety and solitude of the shoreline. To your dismay, though, the boys were not so easily deterred.

They pursued you and Kiri with dogged persistence; their snickers echoed through the air like a pack of viperwolves as they threw snide remarks targeted at your departing backs, whispering just loud enough for you and Kiri to overhear.

"Look at their tails,"

"Aww, baby tail!"

You gritted your teeth, willing yourself to maintain control despite your growing anger. You had hoped that your unspoken plea for serenity would be granted—that you could slip away unnoticed and go about your day. But clearly, Eywa had other plans.

Your breaking point presented itself when Aonung couldn't resist taking his antics a step further, reaching out and brazenly yanking Kiri's tail—probably thinking he was the height of hilarity.

That was the final straw for you; any iota of self-control you'd managed to cling to all this while suddenly snapped like a fragile twig underfoot.

You swiftly tucked Kiri protectively behind your body, baring your fangs with ferocious intensity at Aonung. With a menacing hiss, you attempted to warn him off.

However, Aonung was unfazed by your display; instead, he only widened his smirk and put his hands up theatrically in a gesture of mock surrender. Chuckling derisively, his eyes darted toward his friends for approval.

His cronies wasted no time in offering their reaction, joining in on the laugh track and seemingly growing bolder by the second as they encircled you and Kiri with an unnerving persistence.

"Why so strung up, y/n? I know you're a forest girl and all, but there's no need to go full tribal warrior on us. You're not a freak like Kiri," Aonung teased as he approached you while confidently throwing aside any semblance of personal space or respect.

He reached out and boldly clasped one of your hands as if you were old friends catching up over lunch. Looming over your figure like an unwelcome raincloud, Aonung brandished your hand in front of everyone, showing off the distinct three fingers that set you apart from your friends Kiri and Lo'ak, both of whom inherited their father's four fingers.

"I gotta say," he said while flashing an exaggerated grin at you, "I really don't mind these little hands at all."

With each word, Aonung's grin grew further on his face, as if daring anyone to challenge him.

As he continued to violate your personal space and dignity, you could feel the bubbling cauldron of rage within you reaching its tipping point.

Aonung just stood there on the shore with an infuriating, cocky smirk plastered on his face. His eyes seemed to dig into you as if attempting to burrow inside your head. There was something spectral about his gaze, something that roused an uncontrollable rage within you.

In a quickly unfolding series of events, you yanked your hand away from Aonung's iron grip.

Your blood was boiling at that point, and you immediately raised your fists in a fighter's stance that you learned from Jake, barely containing the volcanic fury surging through your veins.

With admittedly impressive speed and precision, you unleashed a brutal punch that connected with Aonung's cheekbone.

Caught off guard, he stumbled back, visibly dazed from the sudden, forceful attack.

However, you weren't anywhere close to being done with him. The torrential outburst had clouded your perception of time; the seconds stretched and warped until you found yourself throwing not one but two more punches straight into Aonung's disoriented face.

Finally succumbing to the unanticipated onslaught, Aonung faltered under the weight of it all, stumbling and falling on his dumb blue ass with an unceremonious thud.

He looked utterly ridiculous, sprawled across the beach like a fish out of water, his eyes wider than saucers and his mouth agape in sheer bewilderment.

You were so caught up in your victory and the satisfying adrenaline rush that you didn't even register Kiri's voice from behind you, urgently shouting, "Come on, that's enough!"

You had somehow slipped into your own world, built upon cathartic violence, utterly oblivious to the outside stimuli.

Further down the shoreline, the figures of Lo'ak and Neteyam were barely visible as they sprinted toward the scene of the skirmish. But once again, you remained unaffected by their presence and continued to stand your ground, reveling in your well-deserved triumph over Aonung and his ugly arrogance.

With fury still surging through your body, you leaped onto Aonung, who remained rooted to the spot and utterly petrified by the suddenness of your attack.

In one swift motion, you seized hold of his queue with a forceful grip, the fingers of your other hand coiling into a fist as you readied yourself to pummel him once more. A sense of sadistic humor coursed through your veins as you imagined the damage you could inflict.

However, just as your fist was about to make contact, you felt a strong set of hands grabbing onto your arms.

With surprising ease, you were lifted up and away from Aonung's body, leaving you momentarily disoriented.

As your vision cleared, you came to the realization that it was none other than Neteyam who had thwarted your assault and, with his characteristic swiftness, managed to usher you back onto your feet.

However, as far as you were concerned, the fight was not over; if anything, being interrupted had only stoked the flames of your anger toward that insufferable little skxawng even further.

You struggled in Neteyam's unyielding grasp, unleashing a fierce snarl as you reached out helplessly toward Aonung again.

"Just ten more seconds," you thought to yourself.

That's how little time it would take for you to mete out the sweet vengeance you so desperately craved.

Amidst this struggle, a trickle of laughter began bubbling up within you. You couldn't quite pinpoint if it was due to the absurdity of the entire situation, suddenly bordering on comedic, or simply because you knew what would happen if you managed to break free from Neteyam's hold.

But alas, Neteyam showed little inclination to release his irritated captive as he attempted to prevent an all-out brawl.

"Mawey, y/n. Mawey," Neteyam pleaded softly in your ear, altering his grip from your flailing arms to around your waist, essentially hoisting you off your feet and dragging you away from the bruised and battered boy that you remained intent on hurting.

"I will kill him," you hissed menacingly.

Neteyam's grip instantly tightened–he seemed determined to restrain you and prevent any further chaos.

In a low, soothing voice into your ear, he retorted, "No, you won't."

Under normal circumstances, if you had not been quite so consumed by seething rage, you might've noticed the flutters of excitement in the pit of your stomach as Neteyam's velvety voice caressed your ear, sending the heat of his breath tingling down your neck. Alas, you were consumed by unbridled fury.

Meanwhile, back at the center of the conflict, Lo'ak was engaged in a heated exchange with one of Aonung's friends. With an aggressive shove to the chest, Lo'ak sent the kid stumbling backward.

Naturally, this act of provocation led to a retaliatory shove from the offending boy. The tension in the air thickened as another fight seemed imminent.

However, as though summoned by divine intervention (or just sheer nosiness), Jake and Tonowari burst onto the scene from where they had been residing further down the shore. They hastily made their way over to the contentious group–eager to discover what upheaval you all had gotten up to.

You muttered a curse under your breath, knowing that you really stepped in it this time.

Jake had explicitly instructed you and his children to steer clear of trouble, particularly any sort of mischief that might land them all in hot water.

Yet there you were, having done the complete opposite—you'd gone and beat the living daylight out of the chief's son.

Neteyam, well aware of your obvious distress, gently squeezed your waist in a reassuring manner. He looked at you with an air of confidence that somehow assured you everything would be okay. "I'll take care of it," he boldly declared.

As he finally released his reassuring grip on your middle, you couldn't deny how much you immediately missed the warmth and comfort it provided. The sudden void left by the absence of contact struck you like a bucket of cold water on a chilly morning. Shaking your head, you attempted to dismiss those inconvenient thoughts from your mind.

"No," you began with a sigh, exasperation creeping into your tone. "You didn't even do anything."

It was practically Neteyam's full-time job–swooping in like a hero to rescue anyone and everyone, whether it was his brother or his sisters or yourself.

It was as if he just couldn't help himself; he had to take the bullet every single time (yikes). It was both endearing and frustrating in equal measure.

His behavior had to stem from some kind of savior complex—you swore you could see through it all.

You knew the reason behind his rescue missions was simply the immense pressure his father put on him. Being the eldest child in the family, Neteyam bore the weight of his father's expectations on his shoulders every single day.

"It doesn't matter," Neteyam murmured dismissively, cutting off any further attempts at discussion. He slipped in front of you and made his way toward the unfolding scene with determination written all over his face.

Left behind, standing helplessly amidst dust motes that swirled where he once stood mere seconds ago, and your words still trapped halfway up your throat, you couldn't do anything but blink at his retreating back.

Upon returning to the Sully family's marui pod, you, Neteyam, and Lo'ak stood apprehensively as Jake began to furiously pace in front of you.

Lo'ak was clearly pissed off. He clutched his arm with a vice-like grip, attempting to appear wounded.

You nearly rolled your eyes at the sight. With a grin threatening to break across your face, you had to avert your gaze from the boy to avoid making an untimely scene.

You knew that he wasn't injured in the slightest. One of Aonung's friends had barely shoved him moments earlier.

You suspected he was just putting on a show to earn some sympathy from his father and possibly receive a lighter scolding.

In all honesty, Jake shouldn't have had to yell at anyone but you. If Jake were to hold anyone accountable for the recent chaos, it should have been you. After all, you were the one who threw the first punch, dishing out a humble thrashing to Aonung that would undoubtedly give him pause before stirring up trouble again.

Jake continued his relentless pacing back and forth like a caged animal. It was making you dizzy.

The atmosphere in the marui pod was thick with tension as each step echoed ominously throughout the room. Finally, Jake could contain his frustration no longer.

"What was the one thing I asked? The one thing?!" He stopped abruptly and turned to face the trio of teenagers, awaiting a response like a teacher expecting students to provide an answer to their query.

"Stay out of trouble," Lo'ak muttered with an air of resignation. He barely managed to finish uttering those words before Jake was upon you all again with all the vigor and authority of a seasoned marine.

"Stay out of trouble," he repeated mockingly. "Right."

Amidst the palpable tension in the room, Neteyam bravely took a step forward with his hands raised, eager to defuse the situation like the textbook definition of the golden child that he was.

Clearing his throat, he began, "It was my fault—" But Jake was unyielding. He was not having any of that bullshit.

Infuriated by the mere thought of Neteyam trying to shoulder the blame when it clearly wasn't his mess to carry, Jake cut him off with a fiery glare.

"Oh, I don't think so," Jake chided, pointing a finger at Neteyam.

The sudden shift in energy made Neteyam visibly gulp. He sucked in his cheeks and averted his gaze, quickly realizing that retreat was his best course of action.

"You gotta stop taking the heat for these knuckleheads!" Jake continued. With that said, he pointed his accusatory finger at you and Lo'ak.

Lo'ak's eyebrows shot up and furrowed, causing deep creases between them, as his mouth hung open in disbelief at being pigeonholed as the troublemaker.

He was fully aware that he hadn't been the one behind the afternoon's events–not this time around anyway, as surprising as it may have seemed.

You, too, were fully aware that Lo'ak didn't instigate the fight. You weren't about to let him take the heat for your own misbehavior.

You quickly extended a protective hand in front of Lo'ak, meeting his eye before turning back to face Jake.

"No, Lo'ak had nothing to do with this. It was my fault, seriously. I started it." You admitted.

Jake's eyes shut tight upon hearing your confession, and he expelled an exasperated sigh, heavy with frustration. Deep down, you knew that you were about to get it.

"y/n," he began, finally opening his eyes and turning his full attention towards you with an air of bewilderment. "You got some good hits in, I'll give you that," He paused momentarily before continuing with a mixture of astonishment and disappointment in his voice, "But the chief's son? Do you have any idea what Tonowari could've done to us? What the hell were you thinking, kid?"

You visibly winced as Jake's words hit you like a ton of bricks. He definitely had a valid point there.

The truth was that you hadn't been thinking—not one bit.

All you could recall was Aonung taunting Kiri without an ounce of remorse and then getting all up in your personal space like he had the right to. That was enough for you to see nothing but red.

In that heated moment, the thought of potential consequences flew right over your head. It was as though any semblance of logic had temporarily eluded you.

As you mentally retraced the earlier events that had unfolded before your eyes, you finally dwelled on the severity of the situation.

You didn't consider how your reckless actions could have jeopardized not only your own safety but also that of the Sullys, potentially resulting in their sudden eviction from their newfound home—a home they had fought so hard to earn a place in.

The full gravity of your reckless act hung heavily on your shoulders, like an enormous boulder strapped to your back.

"I'm really sorry, sir," you uttered with undeniable sincerity in your tone.

You tried to maintain eye contact with Jake, but the guilt in your stomach compelled you to anxiously dart your gaze away. The overwhelming shame gnawed at your conscience relentlessly.

Jake, sensing your unease, heaved a heavy sigh once again.

It wasn't lost on you that Jake was treating you far more gently than he would have treated either of his own sons had they been in this situation. This realization only doubled the weight on your shoulders.

At that moment, you felt like an unwanted appendix to their family unit—a burden they never should have taken in.

They didn't have to offer you a place in their home after your parents' deaths, nor did they have to take you with them while they sought uturu with the Metkayina. And yet, they did. And how did you repay their boundless generosity? With this…shitshow.

You found yourself longing for Jake's anger and reprimand instead of the current watered-down scolding he was dishing you. But Jake, obstinately persistent as ever, didn't indulge your desire for absolution through shouting.

As if trying to reach out into your thoughts, he leaned down in an attempt to align his gaze with your line of vision. His hope was to establish eye contact and facilitate a genuine conversation.

His attempts proved futile, though, as he failed to catch your darting eyes. Jake's face scrunched with genuine concern.

Delving further into the matter at hand, he gently inquired, "Why'd you hit him, y/n? Did he do something to you?" His brows knitted into a look of utmost concern, clearly desperate for an explanation that could offer a semblance of understanding as to why you went crazy on the chief's son.

The mere thought of the incident was enough to make your blood surge with fury again.

It occurred to you that you hadn't actually filled Neteyam or Lo'ak in on the details of what had transpired before your little scuffle. The three of you had been too busy being unceremoniously dragged back to the marui pod with your tails between your legs.

With clenched fists, you looked down to see your knuckles–red and battered–for the first time since the confrontation.

The visualized memory of your punches landing on Aonung's face brought you a mix of satisfaction and disgust.

"Aonung wouldn't leave Kiri alone," you spat out, a hint of bitter resentment in your tone. "He kept picking on her and called her a freak."

A brief pause allowed another wave of anger to wash over you.

"And then he started being all gross towards me," you continued. "He grabbed my hand, and I just…reflexed... I guess."

Despite the gravity of the situation, Lo'ak snickered at your choice of words, clearly amused by how casually you downplayed the severity with which you'd beat the actual shit out of Aonung.

Lo'ak's joy was short-lived due to the sudden and simultaneous glare from both Jake and Neteyam that pierced straight through his amusement like a sharp spear.

Jake slowly directed his attention back towards you, lowering his tall frame to match your height.

It was a comical sight as he contorted himself into a near-squatting pose. You hesitantly lifted your eyes to meet Jake's, and to your surprise, you found a warm, gentle smile gracing his stern features.

His eyes held pools of gratitude as he gently placed a reassuring hand on your shoulder, providing a solid anchor to steady your quivering soul.

"Thank you," Jake said softly, his voice laced with sincere gratitude.

You stared at him in confusion.

Why the hell was Jake thanking you when you almost got them all booted off the island like unwanted baggage?

Searching for an explanation, you let out an involuntary, bewildered "huh?" that accurately represented your current state of mind.

The sheer candidness of your reaction brought forth a chuckle that Jake tried hard to suppress. He seemed bemused by your baffled demeanor and swiftly decided to put an end to the suspense.

"For standing up for my daughter," Jake explained, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief. "And for putting that little rascal in his rightful place," he added with a smug expression.

Listening to Jake's heartfelt acknowledgment warmed your soul.

Your lips parted as they inched from ear to ear in sync with Jake's own radiant grin, happy that you had stood up for what mattered when it counted the most.

As his words washed over you like a soothing balm, an immaterial weight had seemingly lifted from your chest–one that you hadn't even known had been weighing down on you so heavily until that very moment.

Jake stretched to his full height, puffing out his chest as he authoritatively placed his hands on his hips. He fixed his gaze on his two sons, who exchanged wary glances with each other.

He took a deep breath before delivering his unexpected command.

"Go make peace with Aonung," he said to his boys, nodding firmly as if trying to convince himself of the wisdom of his decision.

Lo'ak's jaw dropped. "What?" he blurted out, his head lurching forward in disbelief.

Jake scowled at Lo'ak's unrestrained backtalk.

You shifted uncomfortably beside Lo'ak, feeling an inexplicable sense of camaraderie. Why should they go make peace with the enemy?

Exasperation danced across Jake's face as he ran a weary hand over it, trying to collect himself for the explanation that was unnecessarily demanded.

"Listen," he began, sounding more than a bit frustrated. "I don't care how you do it. Just go make sure y/n doesn't have to beat up any more of those guys."

Jake did a terrible job of disguising the wide grin that threatened to split his face in half as he glanced back toward you.

You could already tell that you would never live this down.

Neteyam, with a determined expression on his face, nodded firmly at his father's request. "Yes, sir," he replied dutifully.

Lo'ak, however, couldn't have been more displeased, and his disapproval was all too apparent. Neteyam took hold of Lo'ak's arm and practically had to drag him out of the pod.

Jake watched his eldest son in approval, grateful that at least one of his boys was on the same wavelength as him.

With a look of satisfaction, he turned back to you and jerked his head in the direction his two sons had disappeared. "You should go find Kiri," he suggested. "She's by the shore with Neytiri."

You nodded obediently and spun around to exit the pod yourself. But before you managed to get very far, Jake called out to you with a severity that betrayed how truly important he saw your errand.

His facial expression shifted into solemn seriousness. "I mean it, y/n," he insisted. "I appreciate you standing up for my baby girl."

A sad smile played across Jake's features as he added, "She's… she hasn't been having the easiest time adjusting to our new life here."

That fact was not lost on you.

You'd spent countless hours listening attentively to Kiri's impassioned rants about how much she despised their new reef home–a place that just made her feel even more alienated than she did back in the forest.

"Of course," you replied hesitantly, not entirely sure of what else to say in the situation.

It was obvious to anyone who knew you well that you'd risk your life for Kiri's sake in a heartbeat. After all, the minor danger you faced today was absolutely insignificant compared to what you'd do for your friend.

Jake's smile never wavered. He playfully ruffled your hair as if you were a little kid needing reassurance, causing you to let out an exasperated groan. He was such a dad.

"Alright, get outta here," Jake ordered as laughter danced within his voice, his demeanor that of a caring father.

You didn't need to be told twice. You hastily exited the pod while simultaneously trying your best to tame your tousled hair, which now resembled a bird's nest caught in a storm.

Immediately after stepping outside the pod, you noticed Neteyam and Lo'ak still lingering nearby, definitely not 'making peace' with Aonung.

Lo'ak was leaning against the marui pod, wearing an expression that screamed boredom, while Neteyam appeared quite preoccupied.

He practically had the entire side of his head glued to the pod as he clearly tried to eavesdrop on your conversation with Jake.

With a shake of your head, you faced the brothers directly, amusement twinkling in your eyes.

You cleared your throat and shot a sort of 'what the hell?' look at Neteyam, who was quick to whip his head toward you. He backed away from the pod, feigning ignorance.

You narrowed your eyes at him, demanding an explanation with a simple "Um?"

As if on cue, Lo'ak decided that this would be the perfect time to point out the painfully obvious.

"He was trying to listen in on your conversation," he declared as if the revelation would be of immense assistance.

The unwelcome input earned him a fierce glare from Neteyam, who was not at all pleased with his brother's willingness to rat him out.

You couldn't help but roll your eyes in exasperation as you regarded the two siblings.

"No shit, Lo'ak." you retorted bitingly, your voice dripping with sarcasm. "But why?" This time, your probing inquiry was directed squarely at Neteyam as you sought to get to the bottom of his mysterious behavior.

Despite his earlier nonchalance, Neteyam hesitantly stepped forward with newfound concern etched into his expression.

"You said that Aonung grabbed your hand?" He inquired, his eyes a concoction of fury and worry.

You stared at Neteyam because, yes, you had said that already, and he clearly heard you.

"Yes," you replied, your voice flat and unamused.

Neteyam narrowed his eyes and cautiously stepped closer, tilting his head down to lock gazes with you before forging ahead. "And you said he was being gross? Like… he was trying to come onto you?"

The mere memory of Aonung's behavior sent shivers down your spine.

It wasn't the first time that you had been on the receiving end of Aonung's unwelcome advances since arriving on the island, but you could cope with that. The real issue arose when Aonung decided to mess with someone dear to you—someone like Kiri.

A new wave of hatred washed over you at the memory of your encounter.

Despite the brewing storm within your soul, you attempted to shake off Neteyam's concern. You really didn't want to keep thinking about Aonung's sorry fish ass.

"Yes, Neteyam, that's what I said. But it's not a big deal. I was more concerned about Kiri. And I'm actually supposed to be checking on her right now, so…" You widened your eyes, shooting Neteyam a somewhat comical, unimpressed look before attempting to step around him and head off towards the shoreline.

Just as you were about to make your way past him, you felt a hand on your arm, halting your escape. You followed the blue-striped appendage upwards, your eyes finally meeting Neteyam's sheepish expression.

He appeared mortified by his own actions and quickly released his grip on your arm as though he had just touched a burning hot flame.

"S-Sorry," he stammered awkwardly. "I shouldn't have grabbed you like that after… he… agh!… Sorry."

He was quick to apologize, wincing at his misstep, and the regret in his voice was palpable. He stumbled over his words like someone trudging through the densest of forests.

You rolled your eyes at Neteyam's sudden hesitance to lay a finger on you—he was never weary about touching you.

It was evident that he was attempting to be considerate after you had just given Aonung a thorough beating for having the audacity to grab your hand. Nonetheless, in your perspective, there was a world of difference between Aonung's intrusive touch and Neteyam's gentle one.

Feeling the need to clarify the situation, you addressed Neteyam and reassured him with a lighthearted tone, "You're allowed to touch me, 'Teyam."

Observing his reaction, you grinned at the burst of relief that spread across his face. He let out a hasty exhale that almost sounded like a muted sigh, lively nodding along to your comforting words.

Beside him, Lo'ak, who had still been casually leaning against the side of the hut, let out a snort that echoed through the air.

"Gross," he scoffed with an exaggerated grimace on his face.

Pushing off the hut, he strode towards Neteyam, the mischievous glint in his eyes combined with his devilish grin betraying his intentions.

"You're allowed to touch me whenever you want, 'Teyam," Lo'ak teased in a ridiculous falsetto as he approached Neteyam from behind.

With an exaggerated flair, he reached out and squeezed his brother's arms in a sarcastic display of affection. His lips formed an overly dramatic pout as he pushed them in Neteyam's direction.

The moment barely lasted before Lo'ak folded over in a fit of laughter, clearly amused by his own antics. His cheeky grin spread from ear to ear as he struggled to catch his breath between guffaws.

Neteyam was not as amused.

With narrowed eyes and a sour expression, he tried not to relent to Lo'ak's antics. His patience wore thin until he finally let out an irritated hiss directly at Lo'ak, who was still bent over laughing.

In an attempt to regain some dignity and escape Lo'ak's relentless teasing, Neteyam shoved him away, sending him stumbling several feet back in the process.

As Neteyam struggled to compose himself after being put on display for your amusement due to the constant tormenting of his mischief mongerer of a brother, a deep shade of purple bloomed across his cheeks–evidence of his mixed feelings of embarrassment and annoyance.

It was obvious that he was trying hard not to lose his composure over the incident.

To avoid any further humiliation from the spectacle, Neteyam shook his head and directed his gaze away from you–seeking solace in staring intently at anything else but you.

A blush crept up your face, the hue coordinating with Neteyam's purpling cheeks.

You did not sound like that.

Desperate to distract yourself from the situation, you decided to change your focus to the little jokester, who was still laughing at his brother. You feigned an abrupt lunge toward him.

Lo'ak, completely caught off guard, flinched embarrassingly hard and muttered a terrified 'shit' under his breath.

You shook your head at his overreaction, pushing past the suddenly skittish Lo'ak, who swiftly hid behind his brother in fear.

Ignoring the commotion behind you, you focused on moving toward the shore to find Kiri.

As you made your way towards the water's edge, you called over your shoulder with a cunning grin, "Let me know if Aonung has one, or two black eyes." You teased with a smirk playing at your lips, the playful taunt drifting off into the air as you walked away.

Lo'ak shook his head incredulously at your retreating figure before turning back to Neteyam, who was still sporting a deep blush from ear to ear.

Lo'ak just couldn't help himself.

"Bro. Your girlfriend is scary as fuck." Lo'ak said with a shudder, nudging Neteyam in the ribs as if to underscore his point. Despite the teasing tone, there was a hint of genuine fright in his voice.

Neteyam started to form a reply, "She's not—," but he caught himself, letting out an exasperated groan instead.

Thoroughly annoyed by his brother's relentless poking into his… whatever it was he had with you, he decided it was time for a little distance. With a quick shove to get Lo'ak off him, Neteyam moved away with purpose, intent on finding Aonung and getting the whole thing over with.

Naturally, Lo'ak was not one to accept defeat so easily. Hastily regaining his balance, he broke into a light jog and quickly caught up to Neteyam's side.

The playful smirk on Lo'ak's face betrayed the fact that he wasn't quite ready to let the situation go.

"She's not what?" Lo'ak inquired, feigning innocence but definitely not done being a little shit. "Not your girlfriend, or not scary? 'Cause I'm pretty sure she's at least one of those."

The corners of Neteyam's mouth threatened to betray a grin at the absurdity of the conversation.

Instead of acknowledgment, though, he fixed a determined glare at Lo'ak, hoping that if he couldn't escape through physical distance, maybe stony silence would do the trick.

Despite his seemingly relaxed demeanor, Neteyam found himself battling an internal storm as he recalled the day's events.

Before his awkward fumble with you, he had been trying to decipher what had transpired between you and Aonung on the beach. He wanted to know what could have provoked you enough to attack Aonung the way you did.

As you recounted the events to him earlier, you confessed that Aonung had invaded your personal space, said gross things to you, and even gone as far as grabbing your hand unprovoked.

The mere thought of that skxawng purposefully making you uncomfortable boiled Neteyam's blood. He felt the rage surge within him.

On the outside looking in, it was plain as day that you and Neteyam shared a close bond–you were best friends through and through.

And yet, that knowledge did little to quell the overpowering sense of possessiveness that engulfed Neteyam at the thought of another guy trying to woo you.

Undoubtedly, you were remarkably beautiful; anyone with eyes could see that.

Neteyam was allowed to think of his best friend as beautiful.

It was more than just your physical allure, though. You were so passionate about everything you held dear. Your closest friends, the group of orphaned children that you looked after back in the forest–you cared for them all with burning intensity.

Your dedication to your warrior training was unmatched, even by Neteyam himself. You strived fiercely to master every skill and overcome each challenge in your path. Even your penchant for engaging in spirited conversations about the most random, mundane day-to-day things–you were an enigma that never ceased to captivate.

Coupled with a genuinely warm heart and a razor-sharp wit, you instantaneously charmed anyone in your presence. Your fiery temperament often erupted when things heated up, making it clear that you were never one to back down from a challenge–an attribute Neteyam secretly cherished.

If anything, you seemed too cool for someone like him. And yet, he couldn't help but find himself utterly enamored with every aspect of your character.

There wasn't a thing that he disliked about you.

However, all those emotions were normal because you and he were friends. It was only natural for him to appreciate the characteristics that made you who you were.

And, of course, others admired those same traits in you too, which was exactly why you had such a large circle of friends. Even other guy-friends.

Like his brother, for example.

It was okay that Neteyam felt a little more than just a twinge of jealousy when he’d notice Lo'ak being extra touchy with you. When he'd grab your wrist and go all mushy trying to convince you to re-braid his hair or re-shave the side of his head, knowing that you'd be gentler while doing so than Neytiri typically was.

Or when Lo'ak would virtually throw himself on top of you, insisting on sharing a hammock just because you managed to snatch the last vacant one.

And you would give in to him every single time, despite your feigned annoyance, because you were just that kind of person.

Though Neteyam gritted his teeth at you two in silent disapproval, he repeatedly convinced himself that it was entirely within the bounds of how two friends were allowed to act. You choosing to share a hammock with Lo'ak was just a good-natured deed from someone who looked out for the best interests of their friends. Nothing more than innocent camaraderie.

His blood boiled on another level when he heard that Aonung had laid a hand on you.

But surely, he thought, that feeling of burning rage encapsulating his heart was nothing more than the completely wholesome, totally platonic loyalty and devotion one naturally felt for their best friend.

That was what normal platonic friendships were all about, right?

With a sudden, fluid motion, Lo'ak interrupted Neteyam's mental meanderings by waving a hand in front of his face.

Lo'ak couldn't help but chuckle at the bizarre sight before him. It looked like Neteyam was trying to mentally communicate with an invisible force.

Addressing his brother with a bemused look, Lo'ak asked, "Bro, are you good? You looked like you were having a stroke or something."

Neteyam blinked a few times before the reality of the situation dawned on him.

In truth, Neteyam thought that no, he probably wasn't anywhere close to being okay. He was probably definitely teetering on the edge of an existential crisis centered around his best friend.

Due to the current turmoil raging in his mind, speech was an almost impossible feat for Neteyam to achieve; instead, a cascade of words just kind of tumbled out without any consultation from his overwhelmed brain.

"What do you…I mean, y/n? How do you see her?" stammered Neteyam, catching Lo'ak completely off guard.

Well, maybe not completely.

Lo'ak wasn't surprised to find that Neteyam was thinking about you. There was seemingly no waking moment where you weren't occupying some corner of his thoughts.

Despite this knowledge, it still struck Lo'ak as strange that Neteyam would suddenly ask him about you as if they regularly talked about stuff like girls together.

Lo'ak's eyebrow arched upward in an unmistakable display of confusion. "What do you mean, how do I see y/n?" He asked, genuinely baffled by the seemingly random question.

Neteyam, typically stoic and composed, responded with an unceremonious shrug.

It was an odd departure from his usual tall stance and confident posture–a constant reminder to all that he was the epitome of the perfect warrior son.

But this time, Neteyam couldn't quite meet Lo'ak's gaze directly. Instead of meeting Lo'ak with his usual steadfastness, Neteyam's eyes wandered down toward the ground between them as though the answer to his question was lying somewhere in the dusty sand.

Grumbling under his breath, Neteyam muttered, "I mean. Do you see her as a sister, or just a friend, or…. something more, I guess?" His words trailed off, uncertainty permeating every syllable.

Momentarily taken aback by the probing question, Lo'ak fell silent for a few seconds as he mulled over the implications of Neteyam's question.

Sure, Lo'ak thought you were cool–no dispute there–and you and he were definitely friends. Maybe not as tightly knit as you were with Neteyam or Kiri, but you and Lo'ak still shared a fair share of bonding moments.

You would often join Lo'ak and Spider on their daring expeditions into the heart of the forest–a pastime you all knew would've been strictly forbidden if Neteyam had ever found out.

There was no denying that Lo'ak definitely cared about you; maybe it wasn't the same affection one might have for a sister (he'd be lying to himself if he said that he didn't think y/n was attractive). Still, it wasn't exactly in the realm of romance either.

Lo'ak knew all too well that Neteyam would skin him alive if he even thought about liking you in that way.

The mental image of Neteyam's incensed reaction brought forth an involuntary snicker from Lo'ak.

Neteyam noticed his brother's amusement and responded with a furrowed brow, clearly unimpressed by whatever had caused Lo'ak to laugh. His expression was stern and moody, prompting Lo'ak to quickly alleviate any suspicions Neteyam might have formed.

"y/n is my friend. You already know that." He reassured his older brother, "She grew up with us."

Neteyam slowly nodded his head, not entirely convinced but willing to let the matter slide for now. However, his gaze seemed distant and preoccupied, as if there were thoughts weighing heavily on his mind.

His eyes glazed over ever so slightly as he retreated further into his own mind, leaving an eerie silence hanging between them.

After the silence stretched between them for a few tense seconds too long, it became apparent that Neteyam wouldn't divulge whatever was troubling him without some prodding on Lo'ak's part.

With an exaggerated sigh for dramatic effect and a hint of mischievous humor twinkling in his eyes, Lo'ak decided to press further.

"Alright then," he began nonchalantly, "since we're already on the subject… how do you see y/n?" He couldn't resist adding a teasing tone as he posed the question.

Upon hearing the question, Neteyam instantly stiffened, his head tilting downward in a reflexive motion that allowed his braids to form a protective curtain over his face.

That particular mannerism was all too familiar to Lo'ak, who had observed his brother resort to the same tactic countless times as a defensive response.

With a quick shrug, Neteyam muttered out a barely audible and very unconvincing, "I don't know."

Lo'ak narrowed his eyes at his brother's feeble attempt at nonchalance, not buying into the performance at all. He'd known for a while about the depth of Neteyam's feelings towards you–clearly way more than just friendly affection.

The truth grew glaringly obvious with each passing day; however, Lo'ak had been aware of the emotional connection for years.

"Yeah, that's bullshit," Lo'ak responded, shaking his head at his brother's clear dodge. "You wouldn't have asked me if you didn't know."

Neteyam released a frustrated sigh tinged with annoyance at how effortlessly his brother could read him.

Their mother often warned Neteyam that he wore his heart on his sleeve and couldn't mask his emotions if he tried. She knew this because Neteyam was like a carbon copy of herself. Those words had always frightened him—being exposed like that—but deep down, he knew she was right.

Neteyam had a conflicted look on his face as he hesitantly shared his thoughts with his brother.

"I think I see y/n differently," Neteyam confessed, his words shrouded in ambiguity.

Lo'ak, despite the vagueness of the statement, nodded slowly, urging his brother to elaborate.

Neteyam somehow found the courage to continue. "I probably think about her too much to say I see her as just a friend. Definitely not like a sister either," he added with a grimace, visibly repulsed by the thought as he shook his head.

Lo'ak laughed at Neteyam's reaction, provoking a playful, yet forceful shove from his brother.

Regaining his balance after the mild assault, Lo'ak clasped a hand onto Neteyam's shoulder with a lighthearted grin.

"You should really tell her, bro," he suggested earnestly.

Neteyam's eyes widened in alarm at the proposal, and he instinctively whirled his head in his brother's direction.

In doing so, his braids followed suit with their own whipping motion.

Lo'ak narrowly dodged the unexpected barrage of hair, squinting his eyes and leaning away just in time.

"Or not…" he mumbled, lowering his voice as he witnessed the sheer panic etched across Neteyam's face.

Neteyam shook his head vehemently, unable to understand how Lo'ak could actually propose such an insane idea.

"No way. Y/n doesn't think of me like that," he adamantly stated.

And really, how could you? The bond between you and Neteyam stretched back as far as either of you could remember—inseparable partners in mischief and life.

You grew up side by side, practically joined at the hip; you were a constant presence in his life. You'd seen each other through thick and thin, weathered all of life's storms together. You'd stood by him through every uneven haircut and awkward phase he went through, a true testament to your unwavering friendship.

He vividly remembered how when he was thirteen, you were the shoulder he leaned on after receiving a particularly harsh scolding from his father. You'd enfolded him in your arms, even as hot tears trailed down his cheeks and onto your hair. The sheer agony and embarrassment of it all seemed insurmountable at the time, but somehow your reassuring embrace made it bearable.

In recent times, you had borne witness to Neteyam's continual fumbles in your presence.

More often than not, they ended with him stumbling over his words around you, or being caught staring at you, or going all flustered when you'd make eye contact with him.

It was genuinely sad.

But above all else, Neteyam didn't even have the title of future olo'eyktan anymore since their move to the reef. Now he was just Neteyam.

Nothing more. Nothing special. With so many other potential suitors living on Pandora, all eager to win your favor and heart, why would you settle for him?

Lo'ak stared at his brother with a deadpan expression, evenly poised between amusement and annoyance. "I really can't tell if you're just trying to be humble or if you're actually that stupid," he said, his voice genuine.

He paused for a moment, taking in the affronted expression on Neteyam's face, before continuing. "I mean, come on! You're obviously in love with y/n, and y/n is obviously in love with you, so… what's the big issue here?"

Neteyam's eyes narrowed in disbelief as he prepared to assure Lo'ak that you were definitely not in love with him, but before he could get a word out of his dumbstruck mouth, the sound of rustling leaves and light footsteps interrupted their conversation.

Both brothers froze, ears perking up in attention as they caught the unmistakable chime of a familiar giggle.

Out from the protective confines of a low-hanging bunch of leaves came their little sister, a mischievous grin plastered on her tiny face.

"I knew it!" sang Tuk in a teasing melody as she skipped towards Neteyam and grasped his arm with a vice-like grip.

Jumping up and down with seemingly boundless energy, she reveled in her newly discovered knowledge.

Neteyam's heart dropped like a stone when he realized the situation he had gotten himself into. His little sister was about as adept at keeping secrets as he was. Which wasn't good at all. Which meant that Neteyam was screwed.

He frantically attempted to shake his head 'no,' engaging in a futile bid to persuade his already-convinced sister of his supposed indifference towards you.

Overwhelmed by desperation, Neteyam tried to stifle Tuk's excitement by shushing her vigorously. "No, no, no. It's not like that, Tuk," he pleaded.

Neteyam gently placed his hand on Tuk's head, trying to still her bounciness.

She reluctantly stopped bouncing but couldn't wipe the enormous grin off her face, as if she had just discovered the world's biggest secret.

"Lo'ak is right!" Tuk exclaimed with glee. "You need to tell y/n that you're in love with her! Then you both can become mated, just like mom and dad! And after that, you can have a whole bunch of little kids like they did with us! You can name one of them after me!"

Lo'ak, who was standing nearby, stifled a snort at how eagerly and confidently Tuk had outlined Neteyam's entire life trajectory in a matter of seconds. He smirked as he watched Neteyam's reaction to their sister's wild imagination.

In stark contrast to Tuk's excitement, Neteyam's face glowed in embarrassment, caught completely off guard by the talk about him mating and having kids with you.

Determined to regain control of the conversation, Neteyam firmly placed his other hand on Tuk's shoulder and bent down a little so that he could look directly into her eyes.

Addressing her in the most serious tone he could muster, he stated: "Tuk, listen closely—I never said I was in love with y/n."

However, Tuk was unfazed by his denial and abruptly interrupted him.

With all the assertiveness a tiny eight-year-old could muster, she poked her small finger firmly into Neteyam's chest. Her eyes gleaming with mischief and a cheeky smile plastered on her face, she said slowly and with complete certainty, "But you are in love with her."

Letting out a long, exasperated sigh, Neteyam found he lacked the energy to even dispute Tuk's assertion. He'd never been much of a convincing liar anyway.

Instead, he decided to go for a different tactic by gently placing both of his hands on her shoulders and adopting a serious expression.

"You are not going to tell anyone about any of what you think you heard."

He put particular emphasis on the word 'think,' giving his sister a significant nod as though that would somehow engrain the words into her stubborn little mind.

"And especially not y/n," he quickly added, feeling his heart beat just a little faster at the thought of you discovering the alleged secret in such an embarrassingly unfortunate way.

Tuk dramatically rolled her eyes, evidently disgruntled by the unfair reality that she'd be unable to freely broadcast each and every one of her thoughts to anyone within earshot.

Still, she begrudgingly muttered her acquiescence with an insincere "Fine."

Yet, it was clear that she was still unhappy with the deal when she pointedly avoided meeting Neteyam's gaze while uttering her reluctant agreement.

Neteyam refused to take any chances with his sister.

He recognized the profound influence he had on Tuk as a sort of second father figure, but this only seemed to take effect when he adopted a grave demeanor.

Looking into her eyes with an air of utmost sincerity, he raised a finger and pointed it to her chest. His voice took on a more commanding tone, though only marginally harsher.

"I mean it, Tuk. Do you swear?" he inquired, extending his smallest finger in their customary gesture signifying an unbreakable promise.

The ritual dated back to their childhood days and had been passed down by their father.

For siblings Neteyam and Tuk, it symbolized the sacred bond between them. Tuk knew all too well that once she linked fingers with her brother, backing down was out of the question.

Upon seeing Neteyam's extended digit, she furrowed her brow in consternation.

She couldn't shake the memory of her other brother's vivid warning: Lo'ak had once gravely warned her that hundreds of little bugs would crawl into her ears in her sleep if a pinky promise were ever broken.

Sighing with visible reluctance, she hooked her small finger around Neteyam's larger one and mumbled an almost inaudible "I swear."

Neteyam's face immediately broke into a beaming smile upon hearing those decisive words. Breathing a sigh of relief as if he'd just prevented an impending catastrophe, he affectionately patted his sister on the head before straightening up to his full height, standing tall like a proud winner.

Crisis averted, he thought, though his mind continually strayed back to thoughts of you.

Deep down, he knew that the situation he found himself in was anything but over.

Next Part Here

[shortstrawberry]

I know, I know. It was Bela's b'day yesterday and I didn't post anything. However, I'm finally free now!

So here's a small sneak peak from my upcoming long oneshot. Bela has her heart back and she is trying to woo the dumbass oblivious MC.

Things have been quite... same ever since the whole debacle with Headmistress and the whole "get Bela's heart back" passed. Not that you were expecting anything earth shattering different to happen. Bela Dimitrescu is still the same draconian workaholic Student Council President who somehow manages to be a straight A grade student. You are still her Vice President, buried under the tons and tons of paperwork that gets passed along your way.

However, since past four months, from the day Bela received her heart back and fainted whispering "You have pretty eyes", certain events have happened that you cannot explain.

Exhibit A: Student Council President fussing after your sick self

"Acchhoooo!"

You loudly sneeze against the tissue paper, trying in vain to contain the droplets inside it. You are normally a shameless cretin who wouldn't hide your sneezing with tissue when alone, sick and dying in your room. But that's the thing. You are very much not alone.

A gorgeous blonde head popped out of your small kitchenette, looking at you with a reprimanding glare.

You shyly hide yourself underneath the blanket, knowing what your president is about to ask you.

"Did you use the nasal spray I brought you?"

You did not answer, still remaining hidden underneath your weighted blanket. You heard a soft beautiful sigh accompanied by approaching footsteps, and you just couldn't help but wonder how can a girl make sighing sound pretty.

The bedsheets were ripped off from you, and you found your answer to your question as you met the intense gaze of one Bela Dimitrescu.

Of course, if anyone can make breathing beautiful, it is this gorgeous blonde. You swear the song "Gorgeous" by Taylor Swift was written for her.

"cor meum, how will you become better if you don't take care of yourself?"

You gave your council president a petulant look, your mouth pouting against your will. You know you are being childish right now against someone who is only trying to take care of you. The said someone has taken out time from their packed schedule to cook some stew for you. But you are sick with fever and cold and you have a feeling the council president will give you a pass this one time.

"That spray stings my nose! I don't wanna use it!"

Bela's eyes immediately softened at your pouty voice, her eyebrows drawing close in focused attention. She tilted her head just slightly to the right, her pale pink lips rising in a amused and affectionate (?) smile.

"cor meum, you haven't taken your inhaler, have you? It will clear up your nose, and you will be able to breathe freely."

Of course you know all of that, but you choose to ignore it. Bela is being uncharacteristically lenient right now, even if she has been soft these days ever since she got her heart back. But today's Bela is still the softest you have ever witnessed.

For starters, she dragged you home from Council work and declared you are on leave until you get better. Then she made you take medicines and sleep while she worked besides you on her laptop. When you woke up, you had lunch waiting for you.

And now it is dinner time and Bela is still here. Not that you want her to go away. Your sleepy sick mind even wanted her to stay forever. Something your usual self won't even dream of.

Taking advantage of the boldness or rather foolishness your fever is giving you, you go ahead and ask what has forever been nagging you. Since the day certain someone got her heart back and started to look at you with strange, different emotion.

"You keep calling me that. What does it mean? What language is it even? Latin?"

The beautiful blonde looked at you carefully, before answering you back in a even more amused voice.

"Yes, and it means 'stupid heart'. Because you have a silly, moronic heart that makes you do careless things like walking back to your home when its raining a storm."

You pout, defending yourself immediately. Even if you remember that incident fondly.

"I had only one umbrella and you were staying back to work! What if you had to go back under rain? So I left the umbrella for you!"

Bela in answer looked away, a hint of pink creeping up her cheeks. She hurriedly draped the blanket on top of you, before settling down besides you and flicking your forehead.

It was a soft flick, clearly a affectionate gesture. Something Bela has been doing a lot lately. You stay up too late working? Sending you away to sleep and flick against forehead. You forget to eat breakfast? A croissant and flick against your forehead. You forget to text her that you have reached home? She will come to your home and flick your forehead.

Strangely enough, you have come to crave these flicks to your forehead. It shows that the once heartless girl...now cares for you.

Well, she had cared for you even when without a heart, as a similiar scene played from your memories. The scowling Student Council President demanding you have her homemade soup.

Now the only difference is that Bela is looking at you with the purest look of concern and offering to apply nasal spray on you herself.

"Here, give me the spray. I will do it myself because someone has become a helpless child."

You only grin cheekily, but let Bela do what she wants. You have troubled the poor blonde enough. And you have a feeling the dinner Bela is making will start burning soon if you keep her any longer.

With two whiffs of spray you were out like a light, sleep coming to you in minutes, You mumble a soft yes when Bela tucks you in, telling you that she would wake you up in time of dinner.

Unbeknownst to your peaceful sleeping self, the eldest Dimitrescu sister stayed besides you for few long minutes, gazing at you with the softest expression.

A soft, feathery kiss was laid on your forehead. Right where she flicks you all the time.

"It means my heart. You are my cor meum."

Cor meum means "my heart" in Latin according to Google Translate.

[jokenotfunny]

Orphic - Prologue

1.8k words

The Twins Are Born

10,173 , EVERALD PALACE ,

A Thunderous Evening

It was nearing midnight on Agarre-Venuse. The townspeople and villagers all across the planet were readying for the next day. Whether they had crops to plant and grow, families to take care of or businesses to run.

However in Castle Everald...

Midwives and handmaidens scurried around the corridors in stress and worry, preparing towels and food for the queen.

"Grandmother, do you think she'll be alright?" Jerrica, the eldest daughter of the Lavenza-Venuse bloodline, asked worriedly, as she paced around the corridors before the castle's birthing room. The same room where the Queen, Elizabetha could be heard groaning and complaining.

"Stop your prancing. Your mother is Bene Gesserit, she's been through much worse pain than this." The Reverend Mother Gaius, said calmly to the 9 year old in front of her.

"Besides she's already had four of you." She says mentally. sharply eyeing the other three children surrounding her.

"Yes, but it's twins, surely that must be painful." Jerrica replies, grimacing as if she'd heard the woman's thoughts, before taking the seat next to her grandmother.

Before the reverend mother could respond however, the sound of something falling to the ground followed by a mischievous giggle, jostled their silent conversation.

"Mother's giving birth and you two decide that now is the best time to fool around." Jerrica snaps at the two roughousing boys, Izaac and Xyon messing around with wooden swords.

"Father gave us these swords for a reason!" Izaac snapped back, glaring at his older sister, while Xyon shrunk away from the impending argument with an apology towards his big sister, deciding to sit next to the slumbering youngest child, Cherise.

"There's a time and place for everything, and now isn't it!" Jerrica glared.

"Well you aren't the boss of me and you'll never be so now what!" Izaac pushed, lunging for his sister.

"Here we go." Xyon whispered, rolling his eyes.

Before the Reverend Mother could interfere in the childish fighting, Jerrica interjected in a way she didn't expect.

"Get off of me, you little cretin!" She demanded, using the voice on her younger brother.

"A formidable child, indeed." The Reverend Mother thought, watching the girl. While The queen of Agarre-Venuse may have done everything against the Bene Gesserit order, she still proves to be one of her most famed students if she was able to have her 9-year-old daughter be completely capable of using the voice effectively.

She couldn't help but wonder what else the little girl could be capable of under her own teachings. But that's be a matter to discuss at a later date.

"You're such a coward!" Izaac growled at the girl. "You can't use the voice for everything, why don't you actually fight me, if you're so brave."

And then there's Izaac. A very bold and brave young man. Braver than most 7 year olds would be at least. He'd been initiated into CHOAM's Mentat program only a week prior, having passed all of his tests. However, he'd not yet been sent to the Order House due to the impending birth of his new siblings, and his demand to meet them.

Before the two young Lavenza-Venuse children could begin fighting, the sound of childish screaming that only a newborn could create, bled out into the hallway where they occupied. And lo and behold, out ran their father, Dracule, with an excited expression on his face.

"They're here! they've been born!" He exclaimed excitedly. "Come meet them children."

At this point all the tensions had left the dimly lit hall, and they had turned their attention to their mother and two new sisters, excitedly. Young Xyon becoming more excited at the sight of his aunt Margot in the corner as well, before scurrying over to her.

In the birthing room, their mother lied in the bed holding one, and cooing at her while the girl shrieked and cried, while Dracule stood holding the other, smiling brightly at her as she simply stared at him silently.

"What's their names?" The four-year-old Cherise asked trying to rub the sleep from her eyes, as she sidled up beside her mother.

"Well this is Chevre." She whispered quietly, showing her children, the now calm baby that she was holding.

"And this is Y/N" Dracule said, letting his other children get a good look at her.

"And you can meet them properly in the morning but now it's time for bed." The Reverend Mother who had been watching from the corner of the room, stated. She and Elizabeth's "sister" Margot, who'd also assisted in the birthing, had been silently watching the family interact and it never failed to surprise her, how much they all love and cared for each other.

"But Grandmo-" The various complaints came flooding throughout the room.

"She's right." Dracule said, surprising the Older woman. "You kids can meet them properly in the morning but for now you all need to rest." He said, leaving no room for questioning.

"I'll be right behind you, now go." He said softly to the children as they all exited the room grumbling, except for Cherise, who lingered in the doorway waiting to be carried back to her room by her father.

He walked over to the hardened woman, gently gesturing for her to take his newborn, which she did reluctantly.

"I've come to be able to tell when you're ready to use the voice and I'd appreciate it if you didn't use it on my children if unneccesary." He whispered playfully to her, before walking over and kissing his wife on the forehead before gathering Cherise in his arms and leaving the room.

"You've done adequately, once again." The Reverend Mother looked at the child in her arms, now sleeping.

"Most people would say 'Congratulations' mother." Your mother, softly joked rocking the baby in her hands and cooing to her, in an attempt to once again calm her.

"She must want to be with her sister" Margot, smiled.

"I don't believe this one shares the same sentiment." The Reverend Mother, monotonously joked.

In the mere minutes since birthed, the second Chevre was separated from you she began sniffling with the occasional outraged cry leaving her tiny lips. However, as you'd been passed from your mother, to your father, to your grandmother, you'd yet to make a sound other than the occasional cooing. Before anything else could be said between the two Bene Gesserit witches, two midwives came in to retrieve the both of you to be cleaned and clothed.

Once they left the room, Elizabeth sat up slightly becoming more serious as she regarded her mother.

"You wish to speak to me about something, what is it?" She sighed.

"Your oldest possesses The Voice. I wasn't aware." She said, making your mother groan in annoyance, throwing her hands up exasperatedly, as Margot just raised her eyebrows in "faux" surprise at the "new information".

"And you weren't supposed to be. Exactly how did you find this out?" She said, crossing her arms.

"Because she just utilized it against Izaac in the hall."

"Oh that, girl!" She frustratedly sighed. "I tell her to not be so reckless." She pondered, dreading the punishment she'd have to give the girl for that in the near future. 'Perhaps an extra hour of schooling down in Romaniq Village's primary school.' She thought to herself.

"You're missing my point Elizabeth." She sighed, still not completely used to the... Quirkiness of her adopted daughter. "How were you able to conduct such training?"

"The same way you did with me." She said simply, smiling softly as her personal handmaiden entered the room, bringing Elizabeth her robes and helping her from the birthing bed, leading her to her chair in the corner of the room next to Margot, so that she could strip and change the sheets.

"Please get to your point mother, I know you aren't bothered by me teaching my children the way of the Bene Gesserit." Your mother rolled her eyes,

"Quite the contrary, child." She turned to face the women, with a look on her face that even Elizabeth could shudder at. Hell, any girl that grew up under the watchful eye of The Reverend Mother, Helena Gaius Mohaim would be scared to see a smile, of all things, on her face.

"The Gom Jabbar will be brought for Jerrica come next month." She stated.

"Absolutely not!" Your mother said with a finality that had her handmaiden freezing in her steps, hints of The Voice peeking out of the outburst.

"Reverend Mother.." Margot said warily, taking the hand of her sister to calm her.

"How dare you suggest such a thing against my child?" Elizabeth's voice began to grow in volume, ignoring the soothing touch of Margot's hand caressing her arm.

"Not just her. I'll be returning to do the same for Cherise, Chevre, and Y/N when they reach that age as well.

"Do you wish to kill my children?" She said with a tone that she's never taken against her mother before. Only those whose lives she's claimed back in her assassin days had ever heard such venom come from the woman's lips.

"You don't believe they'll pass?"

"My children are already not human to begin with, and you know this."

"It's not necessarily to see if they're human-"

"But to see if their awareness is stronger than their instincts." Margot finished, looking down, as Elizabeth glared at her loosening her hand from hers.

"You're siding with her on this?" Elizabeth asked incredulously.

"I.. I don't believe it's a matter of sides, Elizabeth.' She began cautiously. "But perhaps this will play a role into them becoming truly powerful beings.

"They will be powerful, because I am their mother." She breathed out calmly but sternly before releasing Margot's hand and folding them on her lap.

"I wish for both of you to depart from my home and this planet. While you may bring your Gom Jabbar, it will be on Jerrica's terms. Until then, I have no desire to see either of you.

After a tense, silent moment of glaring between Elizabeth and the Reverend Mother, the latter scoffed, straightening her back.

"As you wish, daughter." she said, her tone betraying no hint of emotion. With a look to Margot, she turned and swept out of the room, her robes traipsing behind her like the remnants of a passing storm.

However Margot hesitated, standing up but not leaving the room. Out of all of the sisters, Margot was the closest to Elizabeth, seeing her as her real sister and to leave her like this could mean the end to their close relationship.

"Elizabeth, please. I don't wish to leave you like thi-"

"Get out!" The woman commanded, her voice resonating throughout the room with the power of The Voice, compelling Margot to straighten up and leave the room without another word.

As her handmaiden closed the door behind them, Elizabeth let out a heavy sigh, her shoulders slumping with not only the exhaustion of having just birthed twins, but also her decision. She knew that some way and somehow her actions would have consequences, both within her family and perhaps even the Bene Gesserit. But in that moment, she was unwavering in her resolve to protect her children, no matter the cost.

_________________________________________

taglist :

@cauliflowercounty @avidreader73

[konigsblog]

That mlmxreader blog also keeps claiming that you're sending your followers to go attack them and send death threats. They do a lot of arguing that your dark fic is not real dark fic and that you're purposely trying to trigger and retraumatise them - is what I gathered looking at a couple posts...

I think that for one, there are definitely writers who do romanticise some topics unhealthily with things such as rape/assault/torture, but I don't think you're one of those people? Like you frequently tag and keep stating that what you're writing is fiction, it's fantasy.

On that note, they keep trying to argue that CNC is the more "moral" kink to be writing vs. rape. I honestly think that rape fantasy is something people do fantasize about and can sometimes just not be CNC (bc they keep trying to pin it back to that kink). It's the fact that there's no established relationship and discussion like in most BDSM pairings where they talk about rape play. At the end of the day, you tag your works properly. I don't see much issue with writing what you want when you make sure to tag (which you do!) and are aware the subject you're writing about and its usual connotations (which you're also aware!). People can be mad and uncomfortable, but at the end of the day it's them who chose to keep talking about it. I think people need to get used to being uncomfortable on the internet. This is not a new concept and nobody here is a "hero" for anything.

Sorry I just paraphased some posts and asks with some of my own thoughts on it!

i mean, my content is supposed to be dark, it's dark content for a reason, and i'm not describing these characters to be standard; i'm writing them manipulative, vindictive, depraved, ect. i do appreciate you, anon, as you weren't rude, and instead polite. i appreciate it, my dear! 💗

i don't really care about this whole thing, but something i have never said was to send death threats. now, we don't know if they're lying – they could be – but, if they aren't, stop. i didn't tell anyone to send death threats, because i don't condone that. aside from death threats and mocking someone's trauma, i seriously don't care what you want to do. whether you don't block them, block them, whatever, they've made multiple posts directly insulting me in weird ass ways, so i couldn't really care about their immature opinion.

i'd like to point out something they said though, kinda funny, considering they've mentioned me multiple times outside of their callout post. they said they made ONE post about me with examples, that would be their callout post. but, they're not counting how they're talking about me in response to anons, or how they're mentioning me in their hashtags. it's childish. yes, you 100% have the right to not enjoy a certain kink/coping mechanism (because funnily enough, people use different ways to copes) but it's immature to name people, talk about how what i'm doing is "disgusting" or how i'm a "vile cretin" (like what lmfao 😭)

here's some screenshots of what i'm talking about when i say they've even insulted me, or made comments. this is 4/11 screenshots.

and comparing my supporters to an iof soldier... 😬 wtf is wrong with you? that's disgusting.

now, if anyone sends this to @mlmxreader, go ahead and let them know that they're not the centre of the world, them multiple posts taking about me and insulting me is immature on their end.

[moonflower91]

Battles Not Fought With Steel

summary: After years apart, Saerah meets her nephews again in the same training yard she once beat Jacerys with a wooden sword

It was just as she remembered it. Years before, she had once sat with her father and his Hand, Lord Strong, here at the balcony that overlooked the training grounds.

She'd been a girl then, eagerly licking up whatever attention Viserys deigned to give her. She pitied the girl she'd been, and in a way, was thankful that she saw her sire clearly now.

Slow and weak and blind to all but his own hopes and pride.

Father had often enjoyed watching his sons and grandsons train together, feeding into his own delusion that they would grow up as close, trusted companions, never seeing the tension growing steadily between them.

Part of his foolishness, part of his arrogance, to think that just because he was king and head of their family, that he could force goodwill to blossom between them.

Truth be told, Saerah had somewhat believed those delusions herself, if only to appease her father. Aegon's vicious laughter with Rhaenyra's sons had been rationalized as boyhood blusters. Saerah stealing and secretly destroying the Strong boys' most precious toys had been a childish cruelty, little else than the actions of a mean little girl. The Strong bastards’ taunting of their true born uncle had been brushed off with sneers that to make it heavier than teasing, was to be soft and weak.

Every act of animosity exchanged had been the things of childhood, though Saerah had never counted her nephews as friends for what they'd put Aemond through.

Even her elder brother Aegon, who had so often banded together with the Strong bastards in their endeavours to humiliate Aemond, grew rageful when one of them bested either he or Aemond on the training grounds. Jacerys and Lucerys might be his play things, his hooting shadows that laughed with him when Aemond was teased, but they were still bastards. To best a prince of trueborn blood was something even a fool such as Aegon could not abide.

Then, that night at Driftmark had divided House Targaryen in half. Childhood had died that night and none of the adults present had attempted to soothe the wounds. Instead, they'd severed the mangled bonds entirely.

Where once Saerah thought Lucerys loosing his eye would have been a fair justice, her own exile made her hate the little cretin that coward behind his whore mother, and an eye became too small a price to pay.

As a girl, she'd spent as much time with her father as she was allowed, glowing each time his affection turned to her, even for a brief moment.

Now, she stood at the wall alone, watching her nephews as they practiced their swordsmanship. It was the first she'd seen them in years, but she could recognize them in an instant.

She’d arrived on dragonback a few days prior, and had asked the servants where the unwelcomed host of pretend Valaeryons had wandered off to.

She noted the colors they wore--black and red, Targaryen colors, although they held the name Valaeryion. The two little idiots might as well confirm the rumor that the only royal blood they had came from their Targaryen mother, while the rest of them hailed from the smoking ruins of Harrenhal.

It was a while before Jacerys noticed her, when his eye caught hers as he murmured lowly to his younger brother. He’d a fine face, she had to admit. Harwin Strong had been fine too, before he was melted at Harrenhall.

It would only be proper to greet them. Perhaps it would add a bit more humiliation if she bid them welcome here in the filthy training yard than at the castle gates.

She turned and made her way down the stairs, her slippered feet grazing softly over the stone, heralding her descent with softness.

“Nephews.” She called softly once she reached the boys. Her eyes flashed towards little Luke and her grin widened to see how terrified she looked.

“Aunt.” Jacerys returned, his voice taught. “We missed you this morning.” He challenged.

“Ah, yes, I had other engagements. Helaena’s little ones are just darling, I could not pull myself away from them.”

“I assume you are making up for lost time after your years in Riverrun.”

“Highgarden, actually.”

“Have you found any willing suitors then, at Highgarden?”

Saerah’s brows furrowed. What did he care if she’d had any suitors? “A handful. But I set my sights closer to myself. And from the rumours I hear, one of Daemon’s ilk are like as not to be your bride, whenever your mother decides to cut the cord.”

The tips of his ears reddened and his jaw worked.

“My affairs are not your concern.”

Her mouth hardened. “And my marriage prospects are none of yours.”

“I will one day be king, of course they are of concern to me.”

“Do you honestly care who I take into my bed, Jacerys?” She asked, tilting her head. Then, a wicked thought occurred to her, and she stepped closer. “Is that what you imagine? Me naked, in my bed, contorting my body in all kinds of sinful ways, shaking, crying out with pleasure?”

Jace’s jaw clenched again. “Your attempts to goad me into some kind of argument are falling on disinterested ears, aunt.”

“Oh if I really wanted to provoke you, nephew, I’d take up a practice sword and throttle you once more.” Beside him, little Luke stepped back, but Jacerys, hardheaded and stubborn and proud as ever, refused to back away. Instead, he stared hard into Saerah’s lilac eyes, daring her to do just that. “But fear not. There’s no practice sword in sights. Your face is safe from my wrath. “

"That was years ago, aunt." Jace replied lowly, ears colouring red at the memory of when he'd been throttled by a little girl.  

"I am sure the embarrassment still burns the same."

"As do your hands. Grandfather told me he had your hands lashed for the offence."

"Yes." She replied, biting her cheek as she cast her eyes towards the maid servants flittering about the edges of the yard.  It was the one part of the memory that darkened her mood. "A fair exchange, I would say. My hands healed, your pride may not. Afterall, what future king wants the shame of being bested by a girl over his head.”  

[spitdrunken]

notes: unhealthy relationship, could be read as yandere

rollo is insistent about the fact that he’s not a jealous partner. he would call himself lenient, even. 

because he knows that those friends of yours are filthy cretins, and yet he allows them to spend time around you. though he knows their mere presence could corrupt you, he cares about you, and wants to see you happy. he will begrudgingly admit that they, even though it’s not as large as a part as he contributes, add to your happiness. he will tolerate it.

because rollo knows he’s a good boyfriend, one who would never stoop to a childish emotion such as jealousy, would never stoop to something borne out of insecurity. (he has nothing to be insecure about. you are his, and he is yours. that is all that matters.) no, these feelings do not stem from a feeling of jealousy, but rather a desire to keep you safe. in a world so drenched by magic, everyone is corrupted. rollo himself is no different- but at least he is aware of it, and can put a damper on his urges. 

because rollo is nothing but diligent in anything he puts his mind to, it does not take him long to unearth your friend’s dirty secrets, one after the other. and though he would not try to taint you himself by trying to change your behaviour, others are not nearly as lucky. he will hold anything he finds over their heads, anything for them to leave you alone, and for them to push you closer ot himself.

because, after all, who would believe that the stern, but ultimately kind, president would have any reason to do such a thing?

[lovedbydottore]

Our Oath Under The Stars - Zandik

tw/cw: almost none lmao ig it's just fluff, also this is like....akademiya dottore so he's still "Zandik" goofy voice man here or smth anyways have fun ig, gn!reader hairful reader 😱😱 /j, friends 2 lovers trope my love ❤️ been obsessed with stars lately so I wrote this don't mind the fact that it's kinda idk sloppy

"Archons, why does this brat need me at this hour of the night?" You grumbled, as you hiked up the mountain in a gingerly manner. Just a few hours ago you had received a letter from a certain person who you had known for quite some time, Zandik. Zandik has always been the type to push away almost anyone who would interact with him, except if it's needed for a task to be done. You were one of the only people who could stomach his childish complaints. And here you were, also stomaching your friend's request which required you to get out of bed in the middle of the night.

You sighed, looking around the mountain. The luminous flowers glowed under the moonlight, the grass waved and danced with the warm howling breeze of the night. It was silent, the crooning of a nearby lake lulled the gentle sway of the night. The moon who governed the night, peeked through the curtain of leaves as it glowed throughout the night sky, almost making the stars look invisible. Your hair danced with the gentle dance of the wind, almost as if it was leading you to the summit of the mountain.

You stopped by a lake, it's pristine waters reflecting the moonlit night, fireflies danced, glowing so brightly you could mistake them as the shining stars. You chuckled, dipping your fingers gently in the waters, feeling its sway and flow. The lotuses rippled from the light waves caused by the sudden impact of the connection of your hand and water. You smiled, parting your submerged fingers from the water and stood up, but then suddenly a voice rang from behind a veil of leaves.

"Damn imbecile, how long will it take for (Y/N) to get here?!" The voice exclaimed, a slight rasp to the tone. It was pitchy and funny sounding, enough to make you recognize who's voice this was. You laughed silently and parted the veil of leaves slowly, revealing yourself to the familiar voice, Zandik. "The "imbecile" is already here, cretin." You spoke monotonously, emphasizing that last word with a vague smirk creeping on your lips. He turned around hurriedly, his red eyes shooting towards you. His mint hair was ruffled, his eyebags were much more emphasized by the dim lighting, and that scarf..you gave him that scarf which flowed ever so lightly in the wind. He actually kept it? Your face felt warm from the thought that he actually kept that gift you gave him, it just felt quite out of character for him, almost unexpected to the point where it caught you off guard. And not just that, his beauty under the moonlight was envy worthy, you've heard whispers from women in the Akademiya that he was handsome, but you just shrugged it off and never noticed how right they were despite spending so much more time with Zandik than those women, were you that focused on your work?

"AHEM! You're staring (Y/N)." He scoffed, crossing his arms and snapping you back to reality. You instantly fixed your composure and chuckled awkwardly, avoiding his sharp gaze. He raised one of his eyebrows and stared you down, from head to toe. You felt a bead of sweat drop from your face, grumbling a few words before finally turning to Zandik. "So, why did you call me here?" You queried, your gaze focused at his eyes. You noticed his expression soften, becoming gentle. His eyes kept wandering elsewhere which made you slightly tilt your head in confusion. He sighed loudly, making you jump a little bit from the sudden loudness which didn't go well with the silent ambience.

"Come." He mumbled, gesturing you to follow him. He walked calmly as you tread right behind him, admiring the flowers as you pass by. The night fell silent, both your footsteps being the only sounds heard throughout the night. His hands brushed yours, you hummed looking at him who seemed to be avoiding your gaze. You wanted to talk yet you stayed silent. The silence was almost suffocating. He stopped in his tracks, he had led you to a clearing where you could see all of the night sky. The stars twinkled, the moon hung low in the dark skies. You could see the slumbering city just right below you. His silhouette illuminated in the moonlight, his back turned to you. He was fidgeting with his hands for a while until, finally he turned to you with a stoic impression.

His cheeks flushed a slight tint of pink before grumbling and walking close. "(Y/N).." he whispered, taking your hands and enclosing it with his cold ones. You gasped lightly, heat crawling up your face. He pressed his lips together, looking down at both of yours and his hands before reeling them close to him, pulling you along. "You..what have you done to me?" He silently spoke, his breathe tickling your ears. "You, you have captured me in your embrace, making me fragile, vulnerable. You weaken me (Y/N), you break me into tiny pieces. What have you done? What have you done to me..please, I beg you, tell me." His grip held you close, his hair hung, covering the moonlight from reaching his eyes. His tone was desperate, but you had no idea how to respond, what did you do to him exactly?

You could recall moments of him acting peculiar around your presence. Sometimes avoiding you, sometimes clinging onto you like a lost, helpless child. You do well in your studies you admit yet, you couldn't find an answer for his question, not even a single word came to your thought, not even a mutter of an answer was spoken, just pure silence of confusion and desperation. The question rang in your ears loudly like a mantra.

What have you done to me?

What have you done to me?

What have you done to me?

"Zandik, tell me, why ask someone who does not have a single idea nor answer for such queries?" You muttered, caressing his cold, rough hands before turning your gaze to him, even a passerby could confuse you two as lovers from such a stance.

Lovers, love, in love?

Was Zandik, in love with you? Your eyes slightly widened at the sudden opening. A sensation of butterflies swarmed your stomach, so much that it almost felt sickly. You muttered something incoherent, something even you couldn't understand. He stood there silent, awaiting for an answer despite what you said just a few moments ago, desperation was truly powerful.

"Zandik, are you in love with me?"

He raised his eyebrows, his grip tightened on yours. Love? Did he love you? Even a scholar such as him couldn't understand. How come he had never thought of such a phenomenon? Had he been too naive, short on knowledge or had he been blinded? The signs were so clear yet he never considered them, it all felt so far and vague yet it was all so close and clear. He was in love with you, (Y/N). So, so in love with you to the point where it blinded him from seeing it. His mouth slightly hung open, staring onto your features.

"I do, yes I do love you. Words such a these can never express how much I love you (Y/N)." He blurted, leaning close to you, his forehead bumping into yours softly. "Do you love me? Do you truly love me too (Y/N)?" He asked, looking deeply into your eyes which could rival the beauty of the night sky. "I.." you softened your gaze. "Yes!" You smiled pulling your hands from his grip and wrapping it around his neck, pulling him down almost making the both of you fall onto the grass. His hands crept to rest on your waist, pulling you close.

"Can I kiss yo-" before he could finish it, you connected your lips with his, connecting like puzzle pieces. He swiftly placed a hand behind your neck and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss. He sighed in satisfaction and smiled, leaning into you, tilting your head slightly to get a better angle. You chuckled and pulled him into your warmth, breathing heavily. After at least a minute, you pulled away for air. He frowned slightly as you both catched your breathe. "It would've been quite romantic to die of suffocation from your kiss." He laughed throughout each inhale and exhale. You grinned widely, chasing your breathe before fixing your posture and looking at him with sheer admiration. You smiled, caressing his cheek with your hand and placing a little kiss on his nose. "May we never forsaken eachother.." you whispered, leaning onto his chest, listening to the whispers of his heartbeat. He smiled placing a hand on your head and ruffling your hair slowly.

"Our oath under the stars"

[tiredpandaportfolio]

Hey-ho, go on and tell us about how much everyone in DMC swears and do include your characters!!

Oh bless you for asking me an easy one on a Monday evening lmao. I do have thoughts a-plenty.

---

Let's start with the least sweary of the bunch and work our way up.

Vergil is almost as obsessed with dignity and an honorable appearance as he is (or was) with power. Swearing is uncouth and very un-Sparda-like, in his opinion. The worst you'll get out of him is a highly threatning "You..." with a full gamut of implied swearing. Or something like "buffoon" or "cretin". He's entirely capable of digging through a thesaurus for obscure ways to insult people.

On the other hand, V will say "shit" when things truly are as dismal as they can get. Quietly, under his breath, but with pathos. Griffon does 90% of the swearing for him. And if we believe Griffon, Shadow does about 9% of the rest but he refuses to repeat what she says, claiming it's too vile. But it's Griffon, who buys it, right?

Now, Kyrie, sweet and lovely Kyrie is a master of the Precision F-Strike. She has the patience of the saints and she's raising three boys and a whole-ass adult child who swears like a sailor. So her moments of dropping F-Bombs are very rare, but always editorial. Kyrie however has the amazing ability to be insanely passive-aggressive when annoyed, all while being incredinbly pleasant... and capable of making "thank you" sound like "fuck you, you soulless bitch".

Roy, Tess' elderly, sweet familiar, has a patience threshold that reaches beyond the moon. He is the epitome of the unflappable, stiff-upper-lip Brit without being British. It takes a lot to motivate him to swearing, but get him there, and he swears quite heartily like a Scottish sailor... and not above employing long-dead languages. But do expect you to insult you on the sly or call you a "silly cabbage" which is somehow more insulting that being called, say, "fuckface", coming from a being as old as he is.

Contrary to his image, Dante swears surprisingly little. He needs to be made really, really mad to start dropping F-Bombs and again, his threshold is pretty high. Childish insults don't count, which is why he'll happily call some hapless demon "buckethead" and shit all over their skills in battle without swearing.

On the other end, Trish will swear only when inconvenienced, and mostly under her breath. She learned swearing from Dante and has become aware that a lot of Dante's swearing is incredibly childish and infantile and therefore cringe. Her association with Lady is definitely helping. She's more likely to laugh at someone than call their mother something unpleasant.

Lady swears when particularly frustrated, which is rather often. And much of the source of her frustration is Dante. Or demons. Or shenanigans that cost her money. Or hijinks that damage her equipment, which costs her money. The woman has many reasons to let it rip and she does. She's very fond of rude gestures.

Nero is the problem child, this kid will start swearing loudly and heartily at the slightest provocation and loves pissing people off by insulting their mothers. He's not very creative about it... yet... but he's getting there as he hangs out with people who know more swear words than he does. He's very good at stealth insults.

As angry and sweary as he is though, there is yet another level he can only aspire to achieve... and he pays attention.

The sweariest and most vehemently offensive of the bunch is Tess who makes up for her small stature and unassuming looks with a wellspring of vulgarity and cursing that is as deep as outer space. Piss her off enough and her speech becomes a constant, uninterrupted stream of vile swearing that can go on without repetition for 5 or 6 minutes in about 4 different languages. Nero is in awe of this woman and Dante winces when she suddenly goes off like a grenade. He is wholly convinced this is a matter of stature-- "She's tiny, so all her rage and spite and swearing gets super concentrated."

[kylewalker-peters]

Baldiola you useless cretin waste of oxygen freak of a man what is your purpose if you can’t use your £50 billion defence to stop mr muppet scoring???? Childish antics you’re wasting my time

[mrmarakov]

¿What is Crazy Dave like in my AU?

His name is David, although this is not his real name, he prefers to be called that because his real name is too ridiculous for him.

He is the type of person that everyone considers "perfect." He is someone intelligent but at the same time someone outgoing, who has a lot of experience in various things and is attractive, a good combination of being handsome and intelligent, don't you think?.

David is not someone who has had a bad life or some trauma, he is just an ordinary man who seeks to survive in a zombie apocalypse.

He likes:

• The Rock And Roll

• The Spaghetti

• Read Comics

• Playing Videogames

• Create the craziest things that anyone has ever imagined in their lives.

• Cooking (Although he is not good at cooking and his food almost always ends up burnt).

• He likes women and men equally, when asked why he likes them he only says "because I'm one of those who eats everything."

He doesn't like:

• Anything that contains peanuts (he is allergic to peanuts, once when he was 11 years old he had a strong allergic reaction because he ate a cookie that was peanuts without knowing it).

• Fight (when an idiot wants problems with David, the aforementioned will try to resolve things the right way, although if the person continues to be stupid and hits him, he will get very angry and hit him back but harder).

• Cretin and ignorant people (if they hear any sexist, homophobic and racist comments, they will not hesitate to defend the person who is being discriminated against).

• Zombies (he never liked movies, series, comics that had "that" as a theme and considers that some are too unnecessarily violent).

Personality:

He is very childish (for some), and he is also flirtatious when he sees a pretty boy or girl he will not hesitate to try to win him/her over.

This all about (for the moment) of my silly version of Crazy Dave, what do you think? Is it very basic?, Him information seems written by a 12-year-old boy? Let me know your opinion in the comments, without anything else to say, I say goodbye, goodbye, have a nice day!.

[tonberry-yoda]

YOO, i saw one punch man x reader and i immediately got my ass here, I've been looking for a opm matchup since ages.

Romantic matchup for OPM (obv)

I don't have a preference, but both is fine if possible. He/they

What i want out of a relationship:

is well something simple. A nice relationship, one where i can spoil my partner a lot, since i genuinely love doing that. I like giving headpats so yeah I'm just an overly affectionate person in a relationship, i will respect their boundaries if they do not like pda, i would mostly like one where my partner is like me in someway, as in like same type of personality or the polar opposite either way I'll still give them affection! However if they something like "don't" and actually mean "do it" I'll be in a lost cause so i end up just... Not giving affection. I'm quite oblivious and dumb as it is.

Personality:

I am very crabby, moody and hotheaded. I spend a lot of my time insulting and ranting about shit i find hilarious or interesting, often times rambling or complaining. I'm extremely short-tempered and will become enraged with anything although sometimes i can be comical and childish at random times.

I am one foul mouthed motherfucker, i have a habit of cursing, either regular swear words or the most absurd sounding swear words come out of my mouth. (E.G. : “you blithering feculent shithole” “primitive fuckjam” “putrid shitsmoking cretins” “you dickreeking undulating fuckass” “fucksquatting pain in the waste chute” “heinous ravaging trash" “reprehensible sanctimonious jitterfuckery.”) I am completely incapable of uttering a single word without fucking cursing.

I also tend to be very loud, i have a hard time being aware of my volume and adjusting it. I also go on heavy romcom binges, my favorite one to binge is 50 First Dates.

I am often screaming, pounding my fists against inanimate objects out of sheer fucking anger, or generally raging when talking to anyone. I'm not particularly patient when explaining myself, most of my advices seem to be just a massive wave of random insults along with sarcasm and heavy emphasis on it.

Despite my nubby asshat demeanor, i care deeply for my friends' well being, i will genuinely cry if something happened to them. I do litsen to their problems and comfort them in my own way and attempt to keep everyone safe. And despite my rash behavior, i do have a sense of morality and will occasionally do the right thing any normal person would do.

I also have a knightly persona despite my constant use of profanity, any chance i get to act like a knight I'll take it. In a relationship i would literally just obey my partners orders like an actual knight to his queen/king. I would also kiss their knuckles while kneeling down, i study arachnology and carcinology.

I'm also a huge fan of Shakespeare, I'll occasionally use it in a comical sense or when acting as a knight.

Myself fashion-wise: straight up metalhead fashion, i dress intimidatingly and also to add the fact that I'm tall (like 6'5) except i have no makeup or piercings, and instead wear glasses. I for my look i keep my hair messy or well try to, since my hair is curly and already looks about as messy as a fucking bird nest built by a living tumor.

My type: i don't know yet, all i can tell you right now is that i like men and women.

MUSIC TASTE: It honestly varies. Mostly deathcore or black metal, or just sad break up songs. Then there's songs in my native language. Angsty songs about inferiority complex, corny romantic songs and UHM... CupcakKe, Sabrina Claudio and Ginuwine... 😭💀 i am on the ace/asexual spectrum but i just find their music interesting, Pony and All into You slaps tbh i litsen to them at like any time of the day, my playlist varies from angry metal to sad to angst to brazilian music to straight up horny music. It's basically a mess.

Love language: all the motherfucking affection, cuddling (I'm the little spoon btw) words of affirmation, quality time, acts of service and affectionate teasing; with this i basically talk to my partner like how cat owners talk to their cats in that exact same baby voice saying the stupidest but yet endearing bullshit. Basically complimenting with teasing.

- god this is probably so long, and i apologize for that. - 🗡️ anon

I HAVE THE PERFECT PERSON FOR YOU! i read through this- oh also, real fast welcome to the party 🗡️ anon! it's super nice to meet you! :) ANYWAY BACK TO BUSINESS! I read through this and one person popped in my mind, who I adore and I hope you adore as well!

the person I chose for you is...

KING!

like in my head, y'all would literally be PERFECT together

you both have this metal head vibe, but softies deep down and AHH IM OBSESSED

he is big enough to hold you while cuddling and he would literally bury his face in the crook of your neck and it is so cute

he gets all flustered when you spoil him lol

he is just as affectionate as you, so yall are again, literally perfect

he definitely has the same music taste, like i just see it

Y'ALL LOOK SO INTIMIDATING OUT IN PUBLIC LMAOOO

like even if he is hugging onto your arm and giving you a ton of love, you guys will walk into a building and no one I MEAN NO ONE will mess with you

and seriously, you guys have so much in common

if you hear that something happened to him and it breaks your heart you will listen and cry, and he will do the exact same for you

LIKE THIS IS SO PERFECT! (look at me go lol)

he loves you to death and get's flustered when you show that love back because he's a cutie

also, if you're down, he'll play video games with you for hours and if not, you'll listen to music while he's just playin in the background

"I love you so much, King." You squished both of King's bright red cheeks and talked to him in a baby voice.

"N-No I'm not!" He got all flustered and tried to pull away from you, but immediately melted to your touch as you moved your fingers to his head, massaging his scalp.

"Yes you are." You smiled and pulled him close, pressed a kiss onto his lips. "I love you."

He opened one of his eyes and giggled. "I love you too." He pulled you into his giant arms and slammed the two of you on the couch. It quickly became a game of who could cuddle who, but eventually he won, making the two of you fall asleep softly, you pressed against his big chest and one of his large hands on your back.

[sovamurka]

Balor: Your... Our body is failing. If it continues to be so...

Yana: ...then we will die. Maybe it’s for the best.

Satan: That’s better. I suppose, nightmare, that you and I can make a deal without any of those childish tantrums. Maybe I can find a common language with the puppeteer instead of his puppet.

Balor: Ha. HAHAHAHA! What a great strategist you are, cretin! Now I know how the greatest of angels became just a reflection in this sharpener! Idiot! You still haven't figured it out, have you?! This body is dying because of me! I am the poison! And the only thing keeping this body intact is her! Her power of will!

Yana: You... Came here for me?..

Balor: Not much of a choice. It’s either saving you or staying and listening to that horned cretin.

[titoist]

kole — Today at 5:58 PM it's like reaching out to someone who in one's mind constitutes a subjective truth that they are everything, that you wish to understand more than anything. in other words, you are by their side but they do not particularly care for if you are by their side, & you feel silly & childish & below them for living in completely different realities. in other words, complete desire for another person enters irreconcilable tension with the fact that that person in question simply makes no room internally for the possibility of complete desire - even if they might care, it is beyond them. & somehow that hurts even worse than a hypothetical, cruel, inhumane rejection where they call you a cretin. you might start to feel like you are a horrible human being for perceiving it as 'rejection'. you might start to feel like it's similar to how the antithesis to moral good isn't moral evil, but total indifference to the categories of "good" & "evil" [C] — Today at 6:27 PM Yeah They just, like, can't kole — Today at 6:30 PM you are looking for something that they cannot give you. physically, it is not within their possession

[piduai]

honestly my only complaints about the gk ending are and will always be tsurumi and tsukishima surviving, first one was unnecessary second one was plain weird and character assassination. but like whatever nothing is perfect, everything else was too good to focus that much on what wasn't. i'm still baffled with how vocal and negative people seemed to be about the ending otherwise though, particularly with the main characters & the ainu question, because not only i can't imagine more fitting endings for any of them, all of that has been... extensively foreshadowed during the whole course of the manga.

sugimoto's survival was a make it or break it situation, while i *personally* would have preferred him to die because i'm a sucker for classic sad endings and stories culminating in tragedy, golden kamuy was obviously trying to ultimately be an uplifting, optimistic story, so the main character making it through is only natural. like it's about preference, from a technical and creative pov there's no reproach here, acting like keeping sugimoto alive was "bad writing" or "unrealistic" or what have you is simply ludicrous. shiraishi's ending was also perfectly fitting, his whole deal is that he's never been sedentary and kept chasing a hilarious dream his whole life, jumping from prison to prison; of course he wouldn't settle with his two friends after all is said and done like in your stupid infantile found family fanfiction or whatever. like why would he. why would he. that guy is a fucking gambler, although a bad one when it comes to racing horses.

asirpa is the most severe case with how much cretinism she ended up stirring. like you really have to lack a sense of foresight entirely to not figure that that's where her character has been going from the very beginning. she meets sugimoto and she says that she doesn't want to see people die, much less see them die for her goals. asirpa's story arc is accepting her father's legacy, respecting it, accepting her father's at times questionable actions because she loved him, but doing things her own way because she's not her father. she meets people she grows to love and she loses them in pursue of her father's dream - which he ultimately also chased because he wanted asirpa to be strong and happy and for her people to prosper. she prioritizes her own values because she's her own person. it's the pursuit of the golden ratio, of the middle ground, which is how most things in life are reasonably resolved. this "all or nothing" mentality that people seemed to force on her is just so very childish, especially for *asirpa* who has always been defined by rationality, frugality, and diplomacy.

but no because the story didn't go the alternative history approach with a full-blown revolutionary movement it's suddenly bad for western liberals. and asirpa is a shit character for having her own values and priorities and seeking to resolve conflict in a way pertinent to her consistent characterization. like you guys always are the first ones to raise the question of cultural sensitivity, but it somehow went out of the window immediately in the end. because clearly the historical revisionism and bizarre revenge fantasy fulfillment would have been so much better than respecting a culture's actual history lol

[jklovu]

I would like a matchup for Homestuck if it's open.

I'm 6'5 and i dress in a very dark way [metalhead fashion] or in a horror like way, wearing mostly all black with spikes and chains etc, i also have a scar on my left eye. I have curly black hair that's extremely fluffy and light red circles underneath my eyes. It makes me look sickly, but it has always been there like genetics or some fucking chitinous clustergarbage.

----

I am very crabby, moody and hotheaded. I spend a lot of my time insulting and ranting about shit i find hilarious or interesting, often times rambling or complaining. I'm extremely short-tempered and will become enraged with anything although sometimes i can be comical and childish.

I am one foul mouthed motherfucker, i have a habit of cursing, either regular swear words or the most absurd sounding swear words come out of my mouth. (E.G. : “you blithering feculent shithole” “primitive fuckjam” “putrid shitsmoking cretins” “you dickreeking undulating fuckass” “fucksquatting pain in the waste chute” “heinous ravaging trash" “reprehensible sanctimonious jitterfuckery.”) I am completely incapable of uttering a single word without fucking cursing.

I also tend to be very loud, i have a hard time being aware of my volume or adjusting it. I also go on heavy romcom binges, my favorite one to binge is 50 First Dates, Of course there are others i like to binge.

I am often screaming, pounding my fists against inanimate objects out of sheer fucking anger, or generally raging when talking to anyone. I'm not particularly patient when explaining myself, most of my advices seem to be just a massive wave of random insults along with sarcasm and heavy emphasis on it.

Despite my nubby asshat demeanor, i care deeply for my friends' well being, i will genuinely cry if something happened to them. I do litsen to their problems and comfort them in my own way and attempt to keep everyone safe. And despite my rash behavior, i do have a sense of morality and will occasionally do the right thing any normal person would do.

I also have a knightly persona despite my constant use of profanity, any chance i get to act like a knight I'll take it. In a relationship i would literally just obey my partners orders like an actual knight to his queen/king. I would also kiss their knuckles while kneeling down, i study arachnology and carcinology.

I'm also a huge fan of Shakespeare, I'll occasionally use it in a comical sense or when acting as a knight.

i match you with....

Karkat Vantas!!

(icon from pesterquest-sprites on tumblr)

loves getting you little accessories for your fits <33

tbh he probably backs you when you insult someone

"and dont you dare forget i what i told you greasy dickwind."

"YEAH. WHAT S/O SAID YOU ARROGANT SHITSTAIN"

you and him cuddled up together in the middle of the....night?.....day? idk... but you and him cuddled up watchin romcoms ughhh

acts all annoyed about you (hes is down HORRENDUS)

kiss his knuckles and he might just pass out.

[anemcia]

@saiyanandproud​ asked: The gift? It's a frog. Just... a frog-shaped toy. Rather childish looking, even. She would have gone for something even more mocking given her passionate dislike for the guy, but she held herself back only for Cyto's sake.

CELL’S BIRTHDAY - February 16th (Belated replies lol)

“I expected nothing from you, and I’m still disappointed.”

What was he to do with this thing? Clearly it’s part of a larger inside joke she started seemingly out of thin air, quick to worm her way under his skin. The temptation to smash the tiny plastic frog against her skull was at a near boiling point before recalling his son’s unusual attachment to this inbred cretin. Nothing short of a miracle, she is allowed to breathe until Cyto inevitably grows bored with her. Or perhaps he’ll find a suitable excuse to kill her soon enough.

“...Look, how about you give this to Cyto instead. If you insist on me keeping the frog, I’ll be sure to ram it through that hollow skull of yours.“