#they're just funny little critters

[ministarfruit]

best friends

#ace attorney #simon blackquill #and taka! #still no taka tag. I didn't think I would be drawing him so much lmao #sorry it's the animal liker jumping out #I just love those little creatures and critters #all these simon lines are taken and/or inspired from my good friend mel #whose simon characterization makes me lose my mind. #they're just SO FUNNY and brighten up my entire life. love u mel

[wandering-aloneo-o]

filled with horror and fear and dread <- me when someone interacts with two or more of my blogs unprompted

#like what do you mean you found 2/? of my blogs in this webbed site of bajillions of blogs #its only happened a select few times but every time is has i instantly worry that person knows they're both me #while realistically theres pretty much no way they'd be able to tell they're all me unless i explicitly say so #it still fills me with so much dread that they Might know its me #you cant just go around uncovering a critters stuff like that. really not good for the enrichment of their environment #but actually it is pretty funny to see someone randomly find more of my stuff without knowing theyre all me #i feel like a little spy holding so many little secrets #and its also cool to see that 'oh! you like all these little things too! cool!'

[dragontummy]

So basically if you make most creatures a size they're usually not it is wrong in some way. A kobold or maybe even a funny doggy the size a building is just too much. Sure there are instances of it happening but it's rare and a source of much wonder confusion for how that happened. Now a dragon. You can basically make a dragon any size you want and it still makes sense. Is it 1 building big? That's normal. Bigger than a small moon? That's nature baby. A mere 3 grapes tall? Well that little critter makes an awful lot of sense now doesn't it? This is because basically dragons are like fish. you wouldn't dare tell a fish what it can and cant do,that would be absurd. the fish woudlnt even hear you because it is too busy chowing down on an delectable detritus it found. and dont even think of saying that to the dragon cause baby, the dragon is the fish's diner buddy and it's chewing louder than a lawn mower caught over a rock! you really should join in you know,its rude to stare

#can you tell im sleep deprived?

[trumpkinhotboy]

Little critters

Pairing: paul lahote x fem!reader

Type: requested

Warnings: nothing, pure fluff!!

Word count: approx 800

Requests: open! for twilight wolfpack, narnia and heartstopper

A/n: loved loved this request it's so cute and I think the vibes are adorable hehe seeing sam being so soft for emily🥺 so thank you again for this nice request I always love writing for you guys

"Aren't you the most adorable little creatures I have ever seen?" "You're so cute. I want to keep you forever!"

Passersby probably took Emily and you for some deranged ladies when they saw you crouched in an alley, apparently talking to the ground.

But they couldn't see the adorable little balls of fur meowing back at you with impressive intelligence lighting their eyes. You were leaving the grocery store when you had heard plaintiff meowing sounds and discovered kittens shivering in an old cardboard box.

There was two of them, a fiery black one, who hissed when you first came close, and a grey one who immediately approached you, looking for pets. It had been 10 minutes, and since then, you had dug in your bags to give them water and food. By the way they devoured the bit of ham you gave them, you knew they had been there for a while.

"We can't leave them here," sighed Emily as she petted the black cat on her thighs. The grumpy cat had seemed to take a liking to her incredibly quickly.

"But where can we bring them? I'm scared if we leave them at the pound, they'll be forgotten," you pondered while delicately petting the gray head of the little critter bundled up in your lap.

As if you had just communicated telepathically, you and Emily looked up with a knowing light in your eyes.

Without having a plan, you brought the kittens back to Emily's to give them proper shelter and a long-awaited bath.

The four of you were now on the couch, extenuated after this eventful day. Junior and Paulie, the names you had settled on because of their resemblances with your boyfriends, were sprawled before the fire.

You had just started preparing dinner when you heard familiar howls from the forest. Seconds later, the seven members of the pack entered the cabin. Distracted by the smell of food, they didn't seem to notice the new presence of the two fur balls. Sam immediately headed for Emily to hug her and kiss her cheek. You smiled at the happy couple as you felt a pair of warm hands grab your hips. You smiled and melted into the muscular arms wrapped around your figure.

"Hey, you." "Hey," you answered, a smile in your voice. "What have you been up to?" he sweetly asked.

You tensed at his question, your eyes immediately finding Emily's. Through all your excitement, you didn't have a plan on how to tell seven werewolves you were planning on keeping two kittens.

"Well, actually, it's pretty funny," you started as you turned to face your boyfriend's suspicious expression. You tried delaying your explanation when you heard Seth's excited scream.

"Oh my god! Where do those kittens come from?! They're so adorable!!" he cooed before dropping on his tummy to try and pet them.

"Kittens?!" exclaimed Sam with a questioning look at Emily.

The pack gathered in the living room, observing the two cats, unbothered as ever, lying in front of the fire.

"We found them across the grocery store. We couldn't leave them there to fend for themselves!" explained Emily as she walked to little Sam Junior. The antisocial cat lifted a heavy eyelid at the disruption of his nap, only to meow and lift his head in search of pets when he noticed who it was. She grabbed the kitten in her hands, bringing him close to her chest with an adoring smile. The little beast softly purred in her arms. It was impossible to deny the special bond they already shared.

You looked at Sam with a glimmer of hope. The look he gave Emily as he saw how happy she was told you everything you needed to know.

"What's his name?" he asked with a defeated sigh as he neared the pair. The little kitten carefully sniffed his hand before allowing him to scratch his head.

"Actually," Emily looked at you with a conniving smile. "With his black fur and protective instinct, he made me think of you, I thought we could call him Sam Junior."

Your little crowd chuckled at the name and the resemblance between the two.

"Junior, eh? Sounds about right." He smiled softly. Whenever Emily was concerned, Sam was as docile as the cat in her arms.

Suddenly, a soft nudge on your shins surprised you. You looked down to realize it was the gray kitten. You felt your heart melt at the display of affection and lifted him carefully from the floor.

"Oh, don't even think about it," uttered Paul as he noticed how you looked at each other.

You pouted your lower lip, bringing the little kitten next to your cheek. "Please, please, please, please," you pleaded. "His name's Paulie," you added with a cheeky smile.

Your boyfriend looked at you with incredulous eyes.

"I see it, Paul. He looks like you," added Sam with a teasing grin and a lift of his shoulders, as if to say 'You know they've already won bud'

He stayed silent, observing your pouty face and the sleepy kitten in your arms. Before finally saying, "Werewolves with kittens?"

You gave him a little nod. "Yeah, I guess that can work," he conceded with a grin.

#ilya writes #twilight wolfpack #twilight wolfpack request #paul lahote x reader #paul lahote #twilight wolfpack x reader #sam uley #emily young #jacob black #quil ateara #embry call #seth clearwater #leah clearwater #twilight wolfpack fluff #twilight

[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

#teyamskawng #teyamskxawng’s fics #neteyam x reader #neteyam x y/n #neteyam x you #neteyam fic #avatar #avatar james cameron #avatar the way of water #neteyam #atwow #avatar fic #avatar 2022 #neteyam sully #neteyam fanfiction

[weirdmarioenemies]

Name: Bulbie

Debut: Pikmin

Pikmin 4 has a doggone good time being as doggy of a game as it can! I'm sure you are well aware by now of the new Funny Weird Dogs!

And I love these weird dogs! They are wonderful. I'm glad they are so important and beloved. But I would like to focus on a different dog, the very first Pikmin Dog, who we have known about since the very first game! Olimar's dog, Bulbie!

With this, I have shown you both official images of Bulbie that exist. I wish there were more! Bulbie is a dog even weirder than Oatchi and Moss, a whole different kind of critter that also happens to get called a dog. Isn't that great? These people have the concept of "dog", and so far we've only seen it used to refer to these funny bipeds! Olimar has no problem referring to both Bulbie and Moss as dogs, so I am led to believe that "dog" is more of a category of creature to these people, rather than a distinct species. Like how "mole" is a category of creature to us!

We know a precious little bit of Bulbie Lore. He is lazy, and able to sleep anywhere. He loves carrots. He farts a lot. That's about all we know. Awesome! Sure sounds like a Dog to me! And of course, Olimar loves Bulbie very much. Just like he loves his whole family! He is a Family Guy, complete with Funny Dog!

You may already know, or you may have noticed yourself, but Bulbie looks quite like a Bulborb. This is because Olimar named these creatures after Bulbie, due to their resemblance! It is also for this reason that they are members of the Grub-Dog Family. You see? Bulborb is just like a dog! While it is sweet of Olimar to name the species after Bulbie, it must also make his encounters with them even more disturbing. Not only is this a (comparatively) massive, hostile beast that could easily eat him whole, but it looks like his beloved little friend! That's like a nightmare! Especially with other, scarier Bulborb variants! I am happy to know that his Bulborb experiences do not affect his love for Bulbie one bit.

As much as I love and talk about invertebrates and funny fish, dogs have always been among my favorite animals, and always will be! They're an extremely conventional animal to love, and for very good reason. They're wonderful! And on this post about Weird Dogs, I would like to talk about how dogs are, in fact, weird in their own ways.

They're always sniffing with their wet noses, which they keep wet to smell even better. They love to lick, and lick to show love. And that love is such an important thing! Dogs are creatures of love! It is our love for dogs that shaped them into what they are today! It is what drove us to shape this single subspecies into countless distinct caricatures of its noble ancestors. All still members of the very same species! The amount of dog customization that has occurred is ridiculous. Need a better way to hunt badgers? Make a Long Dog. Yeah sure! Why not!

Obviously, most dachshund owners today aren't interested in hunting badgers. They are interested in having a Pet. And a Pet Dog is such a truly incredible thing! There are not many animals that should be kept in a house around humans, but then there is Dog, literally born to be among humans. Born to be loved, and born to love! If you don't think that's one of the most wonderful things ever then get outta here!

This is an animal that runs around and spins in circles because it sees an ape that it loves so much. An animal that ends up learning snippets of human language, because those are the snippets that make it happy. An animal that gleefully exposes its vulnerable underside, because it trusts a member of a different species to rub it in just the right way that feels so nice.

Even with the general consensus on dogs being pretty dang favorable, I feel that it's easy to take a lot of their behavior and history for granted, to see them as the "default animal", when they SO aren't. The default animal would be a parasitoid wasp, silly!

If I was not able to convince you that dogs are weird, then just look up canine transmissible venereal tumor, obviously using your own discretion, because there will be graphic photos. If you ask me, this one medical anomaly easily makes dogs a contender for one of the weirdest animals EVER! Bet you didn't know dogs could be contagious!

I like funny dog Bulbie

#bulbie #pikmin #bulborb #dogs #not mario #funky friday #mod chikako

[ghouljams]

Crybaby Rating: Mature (for horror not smut) Word Count: 7440 Tags: psychological horror, gaslighting, manipulation, monsters, body horror, gore, murder, blood, OC x OC (Threat x Crybaby), bad end, dead dove do not eat, please let me know if I missed anything but please heed the tages Summary: A few weeks ago you met someone at a bar and offered them a couch to crash on. You don't know why you did that, but you can't take it back now.

 "Then what did you do?" You ask, hugging a pillow to your chest. You're sitting cross legged on the couch having what your couch surfer has dubbed "slut talk." It's your favorite part of the morning. Somehow despite the late nights your half-invited guest is always awake when you are. You hardly turn the coffee pot off when they wander into the kitchen with messy hair and a yawn.

They hum, "Grabbed a bite and left, same as always." It's a disappointing end to all their stories, you sort of wish there was something exciting to end their nights with. Instead of the usual fuck, eat, leave.

"Do you think people notice when you raid their fridge?" You lean to grab your mug off the coffee table.

"You don't notice when I raid your fridge," they shrug. You roll your eyes.

"Ok, well, you're allowed to raid the fridge, you're sort of living here." You tell them. They shake their head with a smile, lean against the arm of the couch to kick their feet up onto your lap.

"A fact I greatly appreciate and plan on repaying." You nearly choke on your coffee, and wave your hands to dismiss the thought entirely.

"Oh, no, no it's fun having you around. I just wish I had a better bed to offer you."

"I don't mind the couch, but if you wanna cuddle I'm all for it." They wiggle their brows, it's enough to tell you they're only teasing you.

"Funny," you grin, "you're funny." 

You check your phone, and unceremoniously shove their feet off you. You've gotta get going if you want to shower before work. It's fun having a couch surfer living with you, but it's definitely tightening your schedule talking to them so much.

-

You feel eyes on your back as you walk across campus to the metal studio. There’s a new missing poster tacked to the board outside the art building.

-

This is your least favorite part of your art hobby. Gathering material. You usually only do it once or twice a month, and even that feels too often. If your flat had any sort of garden or nearby trees you could manage, but no you wanted to live in the city. Really it wouldn’t be such a bad trip if the forest didn’t whisper to you, didn’t seem to sink deeper and darker when you stared into it.

You crouch at the edge of the forest picking up pine cones and helicopter seeds. You carefully place them in the appropriate bags to keep them separated while you look for the twigs you like. Thin, but not too thin, with good knotting. You hum quietly to yourself, mostly for the noise of it, and pluck a few of the freshly fallen leaves off the ground. Everything is inspected and saved, or discarded, as you move. It’s a good day for the woods.

They’re quiet. The usual woodland critters sing their song, but otherwise? No voices, no shifting shadows, no spooky shit. You can almost ignore the watched feeling, the tug to go deeper into the trees’ embrace. There’s nothing good in the woods. You’ve known that since you were a child. Wandering too far off your path has always made your stomach squirm. 

Which is fine. You’re not adventurous, you have no desire to get lost in the forest. Just like you have no desire to jump out windows or sleep with someone new every night. You wince a little at your own mental tone. You shouldn’t think of your couch surfer like that, they’re perfectly nice and you can’t judge other people’s lifestyles when your own is so sheltered.

You shiver, bunch your shoulders up close to your ears. You can feel eyes on you, but you know better than to look for them. Looking for them just makes the whispers start. 

You finish your collection quickly and start back towards civilization. 

-

"You smell good," their voice is in your ear. You nearly jump out of your chair, you hadn't heard them come in. Maybe you'd been too focused on your work, sueding twigs to wax and vice versa. You push your needlepoint glasses up to look at your guest.

"What?"

"You smell good," they repeat. You learned early on in their stay that your guest is a little off. Not just in their sexual escapades but in every way: the way you never see them eat, the way they never seem to sleep, and especially in how they don't seem to have any shame in their compliments.

"I smell like pine cones, I was out in the woods today." You flip your glasses down and go back to your wax work.

"That makes sense," they pick through the other wax figures you've made, shuffling them to the side as they search. "Where's the deer-fly?"

"What deer-fly?" You ask, because you don't want to admit you might believe in monsters to your not-roommate who --despite all signs against it-- seems pretty together mentally.

"You had a cute little deer with helicopter seed wings, I remember you working on it," they pick through your figures again.

"Oh, uh, I cast it." You lie.

"Oh," that's the other thing about your guest, "Ok," they believe you when you lie.

-

You fidget with your guest’s rings, twisting the gold around their fingers as they lay on their side next to you. You like how intricate they are. You trace your fingers over the thick band around their middle finger. The gnarled gold, like roots, is warm from their skin and dotted with red chip rubies. Their eyes rest on your hands, their cheek resting against their closed fist. You’re not really sure how you both ended up on your bed, but it’s comfortable.

“You sure you don’t wanna come out with me? You’d be good bait.” You snort, and roll your eyes.

“Clubs aren’t really my scene.” You move on to the interlocking rings on their pointer finger. You twist them off and watch the thin bands fall apart. It’s easier to talk when you don’t have to look at people, when you can keep your hands busy. “Besides, I’m horrible bait. People don’t talk to me.”

“I talk to you,” You can hear the smile in their voice. You shrug, twisting one of the bands onto another and pinching it to keep it together as you work on the rest.

“You don’t count.” They hum.

“Yeah, suppose I don’t really.” They take the ring from you as you struggle fitting the pieces together, their long fingers elegantly turning each piece with practiced motions. It’s strange watching them do it one handed, each finger working nimbly in a way you’re not used to, before the ring slides back onto their finger. “Person is a loose word. We’re not looking for people, we’re looking for meat.” They settle their hand back in yours and you tip your head to look at them. They raise their brows.

“Would love it if you could say dick like a normal person,” You tell them. They laugh and tug their hand from your grip to flick your forehead. Something warm pools in you, and you smile. “I really like having you around.”

“I like being around,” Their voice is a little softer, fingers brushing stray hairs from your face. “I should’ve gotten a roommate ages ago,” You sigh looking back at the ceiling. Their fingers stall, just a fraction of a second before they continue their sweep. “I’ve never been good with empty houses. Makes me a little-” You grimace, trying to think of a word other than paranoid, spooked, or crazy. Your crash-roommate pats your cheek and pushes themselves to sit up.

“Well, you got me around now. I’m way worse than any ghost could be.” You grin at your empty ceiling and sit up to watch them shrug their jacket on.

“Because you’re so scary,” You laugh at them.

“You know me,” They flash you a smile with all their teeth, “I always have to be the biggest threat in a room.” It’s a trick of the light that they look sharp for the briefest moment. Your fingers shake, your smile falling a little. They’re gone by the time you can get your nerves under control.

-

You carefully pen your letter, a short single sentence. You only do this when your sort-of-not-really-roommate is gone. They’d make fun of you, they already notice when your statues are missing. You fold the tea dyed paper carefully. The sides in, the bottom two thirds folded up, top folded down to slide the bottom in and close it. You run your fingers over your army of wax and pluck one of the fairies from the middle. 

One for the window, and the rest to cast.

You tug the window open in your craft room and tug your crucible free from its fire safe home.

-

You scrub at your arm with your hand, it feels like you just walked through a spiderweb. You hope not. You always worry that means the spider is on you now, a rather unpleasant thought. The flat  is dark, well, dim. There’s a blue glow from the living room, a gentle static of televised voices, as you make your way from your room to the bathroom. You think it’s maybe three in the morning? You didn’t check.

The TV is still talking when you finish your business, your couch surfer must be home. You’ll get a glass of water from the kitchen and make sure they’re not sleeping with the TV on. You’re less jumpy with someone else living in the house. The shadows don’t scare you the same way, still, there’s a growing sense of unease as you make your way down the dark hall to your living room. You don’t like being awake at this time. Three am is when horror movie bullshit happens. 

You squeeze your hands into fists, feel your nails dig into your palms. It grounds you enough to keep you walking as you actually get into the open living room. It’s empty. On the television an infomercial is walking through all the great deals you could be getting on a 15 piece cookware set. You power through the living room to the kitchen.

Light from the streetlamps slants across your floor from your street facing window. The scattered letters and your half closed laptop on the kitchen table under it, just barely illuminated. It’s enough to keep you from bumping into the chairs. You know your kitchen well enough to navigate it in the dark. You repeat your “I’m not scared, definitely not scared, monsters aren’t real and the dark is safe” mantra as you fish a glass out of the cupboard next to the sink.

The tap squeaks as you twist the cold water on and hold the glass under it. This is totally fine. You’ll turn off the TV after you get your water, and go right back to bed. You’re so proud of yourself for braving the safety of your empty flat. Real powerful stuff.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, a full body shiver goes through you. You turn from watching your glass fill up to look towards the living room. Your guest, or something with a similar shape, stands in the shifting technicolor light of your old television. The long night shadows of the room and the moving light make them hard to discern, make you think you can see long jointed limbs protruding from their back. Their hands hang by their sides, fingers long and sharp, dripping with a viscous fluid you think shines red as it falls on your floor. They stand unnaturally still, waiting for you to make a move, waiting for you to blink.

You can’t even breathe.

One of the long limbs behind them moves, directs itself towards the ceiling, the rest of them following. Your guest pulls themselves like a spider back towards the shadows as your breath starts again just in time for you to start hyperventilating. You can hear the rapid insectoid clicking over the rush of water from the sink.

Water pours over your hand and your attention is sucked back to your overflowing glass. You swear and turn the tap off quickly, setting your glass in the sink to grab a towel for your hand. The front door of your flat rattles, the lock turning. You can hear your guest humming as they open the door to come in. You turn to look at them quickly. They look the same as always, a little more disheveled than when they left you suppose, but otherwise perfectly normal. You try to calm down your heartbeat as they toe their shoes off. It was just your imagination, your paranoia working overtime at this late hour.

“Oh shit, did I wake you up?” Your guest whispers. You shake your head, swallow and go back to your cup. You pour some of the water off and decide you should start keeping a water bottle in your room. 

“No, uh, just- just had a bad dream, I guess,” You tell them, sticking close to the wall as you make your way out of the kitchen towards your room. You’re sure it’s blatantly obvious you’re avoiding something. “Did you turn on the TV before you left?”

“I thought you’d appreciate the noise,” They half follow you, going over to the couch and grabbing the remote, “It didn’t freak you out, did it?”

“Nope,” You lie. 

“Good,” They smile, “Wouldn’t wanna scare ya’.”

-

You chalk up your late night scare to being half asleep and an overactive imagination. Nothing to be worried about. You scroll through your local paranormal site and update them on your recently disappearing statues. You chew your nails as you watch the comments pop up on your post, the message board discussing whether it's human or monstrous intervention. You sigh and close your phone. Maybe your therapist was right and you are giving in to your delusions to an unhealthy degree. It seems crazy to think that some unseen monster is following you just because you're an artist, more so that the little statues you've been leaving out on your windowsill aren't just being taken by some random human.

You haven't been looking over your shoulder as often since they started disappearing but that could very well be a placebo effect. None of the folks in your class have been missing either, a few have even come back. There’s nothing to be worried about. Nothing waiting to eat you alive for… what? The sin of being creative? 

You stare at your bedroom ceiling. You should get some work done today, finish casting some statues. You push yourself up and out of bed, grabbing a sweater and your slippers to get some coffee before you shower. Maybe you should leave the house, it’s been a while since you went anywhere that wasn’t your workshop or class.

The lump on your couch hardly stirs when you wander past, their shoulders rising and falling with their breaths. You try not to stare, try not to slot your guest into last night’s nightmare. You do a pretty good job. You make yourself busy in the kitchen getting grounds in the coffee maker and rummaging through your pantry for something to eat. 

You can feel dread creeping just at the edges of your mind, stiffening your spine, eating at the end of your sanity. You thought when you finally lost your mind it would be a sudden thing, not this slow descent. You itch at your arm, at the invisible spider thread feeling, and grab a granola bar. 

“You’re so cute in the morning,” Your not-roommate says behind you. You just about jump out of your skin, turning to face them with your heart hammering in your chest. “So jumpy,” They smile over their coffee cup, bounce their shoulders to mimic your fright. 

“You’re up,” Look at you pointing out the obvious, they raise their brows, duh. You don’t know how to explain your unease around them this morning. You can’t reasonably tell them you had a weird semi-lucid nightmare hallucination and now their smile makes you think of their head spinning like the exorcist. 

“Call the media,” They joke, grabbing your mug and holding it out to you. You force yourself forward through the anxiety to take your coffee. It’s easy. Their hands are both occupied, and there’s no reason to think they’d hurt you. Still, you approach the gesture with the tremor of a bomb defusal technician rapidly running out of fingers. 

They transfer the mug to your hands without a second thought, dropping their hand to their side as soon as it’s done supporting the coffee’s weight. You feel the tightness in your chest unspool, your shoulders drop, the tension leaves you like it was never there in the first place. “Seriously what’s with you this morning, look like you saw a ghost.” Their voice is almost concerned. Not quite, it’s a play at concern, a child acting out what they think it should sound like. It twists your stomach into knots.

“Guess I’m still thinking about that dream,” You breathe.

“Nightmares are a bitch, huh.” Their concern drips with amusement. You knew it would be silly to bring up. They’re never concerned by the things that scare you. You don’t think your guest is scared of anything, least of all bad dreams. You brush past them to go sit on the couch, pulling your legs up to your chest as you click the TV on. 

“-recent string of deaths has been linked to a potential black market organ ring-” the television buzzes in the background, your guest falls hard on the couch next to you.

“You wanna do slut talk, or…?” You shake your head, they shrug. “Whatever, mind if we watch something else?” You offer them the remote silently, you don’t like watching the news anyway. Too much bad is happening in the world, you don’t need the added anxiety.

“-say citizens should be on the lookout for-” Your guest punches in a new channel number and the anchors are replaced by a pair of far too large men discussing statistics of some sort. The camera cuts to a caged octagon. Oh, fighting. You tune it out and try to start hyping yourself up to leave the house.

-

“Have you been taking your medication?” Your therapist asks. You pick at her couch, fingernails scratching at the felt balls that pop up on well worn knits. You don’t like that way she says it, like you’re crazy for bringing up an issue she asked about. Then again anyone would think you were crazy talking about the- the thing you saw in your house. Or didn’t see. Thought you saw.

“Every day,” You assure her, “it doesn’t feel like they’re helping anymore.”

Your therapist thinks for a minute. You like her, she’s kind, and most days helpful. She lets you talk without making you feel like you’re losing your mind, at least.

“Your sculptures, are they still disappearing?” She starts, and you desperately want to know where she’s going with it. You nod, and she nods as well. “How’s the ventilation in your craft room?”

You wince. “Not great, but I open the windows when I’m die casting.” She nods again, slower, heavier.

“Do you think you might be exposed to any toxic fumes that could be interfering with your meds? Hallucinations, memory gaps, lost items, it could be caused by that.” You hate to think she’s right, but the alternative is you being right. You suppose a carbon monoxide or noxious fume issue is more plausible than monsters being real(and out to get you). Your therapist takes your silence as agreement and pushes on. “Maybe you should try a less… fume-y hobby for a while, see if that clears up any of the symptoms.”

“And if it doesn’t?” You ask.

She sighs, leans back in her chair, “Then we might need to start entertaining the possibility that this isn’t just anxiety.”

“I’ll figure something out.” Whatever tests she’s thinking of, you’d like to avoid for the moment. It’s probably the fumes. It has to be the fumes. 

“Find a stopping point for your sculptures, and let me know next week what you want to try.” Your therapist scribbles something on their notepad. You suppose it’s good they know you well enough to know you won’t quit your art just for your health.

You’ll use up the rest of your supplies and find something easy to do.

-

You’re almost completely over the nightmare incident by the end of the week. Your guest is as friendly as ever, unbothered by any of the anxieties that plague you. You leave your offering for whatever is taking your sculptures, ask it to stay out of your house while it’s kept away. You figure that must be what it was. If it was anything at all.

You shove laundry into your washer, dropping in clothes from your hamper as you scroll on your phone. You should grab some of your guest’s washing too, that’s the nice thing to do, and they’ve been staying with you long enough. You grab your empty hamper to go snag their pile from the living room.

Come to think of it, how long have they been staying with you? You feel like it’s been a while now. You can’t really put your finger on when you offered them your couch. You think a month? Maybe? But, that doesn’t feel right. The thought rubs against your brain the wrong way. You shove their spare shirts into your basket. You’re not great with dates but you know you’re better than this. Forgetful but not enough to forget when you opened your home to a stranger. Wasn’t this supposed to be temporary? Why does it feel like they’ve moved in?

You wince, feeling the sharp stab of a stress headache forming. You try to keep your focus on the clothes you feed to the washer, stopping to check the tag on one of their flannels. You check the little symbols against your cheat sheet on the wall and stop. 

You rub your finger over the hard crust on the collar of their shirt. It makes your lip curl in disgust, it doesn’t feel like dirt. You glance down to see if you need to pre-treat the stain, scratch at one of the brown droplets. It looks like a nasty stain, already soaked into the fibers of the shirt. You frown, it looks like blood. But on their collar like this you would’ve seen a cut on their face by now. Besides this was at the bottom of their pile, and you haven’t seen them wear it in a few days. Plenty of time to notice a new bandage or scar. Which makes you think it isn’t their blood.

You dig your nail into the stain, feel it crush under your finger. There isn’t any reason to think it’s blood. No reason to think it isn’t your friend’s blood. Really this whole blood stain business is a bad faith line of thinking. Except you know blood when you see it.

With shaking hands you set the flannel on the table and go to grab the lemon juice. At least you can clean it up. You can get the blood out of your house and then it won’t be blood anymore. No more blood in your house. You swallow your fear, set the lemon juice next to the shirt. You think of the red that had dripped off your nightmare’s hands as they stood in your living room.

You leave the laundry and go to the living room. You’re going to convince yourself that this is silly. You’re being ridiculous. You settle on your knees in front of the TV, and inspect the floor. Your flat isn’t exactly the most up to date, your wood floors have seen better days. If there was blood -there wasn’t- then there should still be some between the floorboards. You run your fingers over the dips between the wood, looking for any disturbance in the lacquer. 

There’s nothing, not even a speck of dirt.

You exhale, shaky, and stand again. Good. Good, you knew there wouldn’t be anything. You clean up well. 

You go back to the kitchen to finish getting your friend’s mystery stain out of their shirt. 

-

You drum your fingers against your work table, staring down your army of silver statues. Their delicately sculpted features don’t help you make up your mind. In fact they almost coax you away from your prescribed course of action. You’re good at this. You don’t want to be bad at something new.

Either way you need supplies.

You grab your usual bag and grip the canvas tight. It’ll be fine. You can be bad at something. You just can’t keep living like this. You lock your front door tightly behind you and start down the street towards your favorite craft store.

The streets are cold. The wind at your back makes you shiver, and the watched feeling... Fumes, you tell yourself. You’d rushed to get everything cast and now you’re paying the price. You hook a right towards the tube station and make your way down the steps. People walk past you on the other side, swipe their card after you, wait around you for the train. It’s normal. It’s suffocating. You squeeze your hands around the straps of your bag, nails digging into your palms. It’s only one stop, but you rush to get off the train and back up into fresh air. You bump into someone and give a hasty “excuse me.”

Halfway down the street someone grabs your arm. You tense and they drop their grip immediately.

“Yer bag’s leakin’.” A low voice informs you. You tug your bag to check it and groan. There’s a tear on the corner that a pound is nearly tumbling out of. You feel your shoulders drop, that’s just fabulous. You suppose the canvas has taken a beating over the years, it must have caught on something when you were leaving the house. “Aw, dinnae cry bonnie, s’alrigh’.” You glance up at the man, he holds up a handful of pencils and coins, “I caught yer trail.”

You find yourself sitting on a bench sniffling while a stranger sews the hole in your bag closed. His stitches are neat, clinically precise. He doesn’t take long, just like he promised, and knots the dark thread with careful fingers when he’s finished. You wipe your eyes, cursing your bad luck and anything else you can think of. Your life feels like it’s been falling apart recently. First you lose your mind, now you’re losing your favorite tote.

“Good as new,” the man gives the mended corner a tug and starts grabbing your supplies to drop back into it. He hums, the tune is familiar but you can’t put your finger on it. “Ya done with yer tears yet, bon?” He settles your tote between the two of you, an illusion of space. You nod, even though he reaches to scrub a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb. 

You give a half annoyed hum, and feel the rays of his smile. You glance at him, and realize you hadn’t actually looked at him until now. It feels rude to not even have spared him a glance. Except that he feels completely overwhelming as soon as you look at him. His eyes are so blue they burn, every piece of him slotting uncomfortably close to human. You flinch as pain strikes through your head.

His brows draw together, and he tips his head forward, leaning closer to get a better look at you. He mumbles something and reaches to press his fingers against your forehead. His skin is so warm it’s almost alien. His nails scratch bluntly at your skin before catching on something.

It’s like he’s pulling a nail from your skull, the pressure gone as soon as he rolls his fingers together to dust off the hair. You blink, your head feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Better?” He asks. You rub your forehead.

“Yeah, thanks, um-”

“Soap,” He supplies, pushing off the bench to stand.

“Soap,” You smile, it’s silly but you suppose you’ve heard worse. He offers you a hand to pull you to your feet. His fingers wrap around yours, warm, calloused, big. You try not to focus on them too much as they tug you up. He leans around you to grab your bag and hold it out to you.

“Where’re ya off ta?” Soap asks.

“Craft store, I’m-” You sigh, you shouldn’t tell a stranger your therapist is mandating a hobby change, “I’m looking for a new hobby.”

Soap tips his head to the side, thinking --you think. He rattles off a few potential options, paper crafts, fiber arts, clay sculpting, good old fashioned pencils on paper. You hardly hear a word he says, too busy feeling your heart jump into your throat. From this angle you’d almost swear he had a second set of teeth.

-

You press against your front door when you get home, fingers shaky as you click the deadbolt into place. Soap had been perfectly polite and cordial to you, and yet you felt unnerved. You were seeing things you couldn’t get out of your brain and it was making it hard to focus on pretending you’re normal. He’d even walked you home, his eyes lingering on your window. You have unfounded suspicions.

“Wow you’re home late,” Your guest calls from the kitchen. They wander into the living room and stop dead when they spot you. Their nose wrinkles when they frown. 

You run a hand over your hair, close your eyes and try to focus on the time. Your stomach rumbles. You hadn’t grabbed dinner, despite Soap’s offer. You’ll eat leftovers, or throw something together. It's no problem.

“You ok?” You jerk back against the door. Your friend hovers too close. Their eyes are wide and searching, darting over you with a strange intensity you’ve never seen before. 

“Fine, I just had a long day.” You tell them, brushing past to head for the fridge. They follow close behind, almost clingy.

“You sure? Maybe I should stay home tonight, take care of you.” They offer. You sigh and tug the fridge door open, leaning to check what you have. Your not-roommate’s hands pluck at your sweater, reach around you to grab food when your eyes settle on it too long.

“Don’t let me ruin your fun,” You let them tug you away from the fridge, and you hop up to sit on the counter. Pasta is dumped into a bowl and shoved in the microwave. 

“I can skip going out,” They stare down the microwave timer, fingers tapping the counter.

“I’m really-”

“Did you meet anyone interesting while you were out?” They cut you off. You blink. That’s a weird question. You don’t know how to respond. Their gaze is so sharp you almost don’t want to tell them the truth. You swallow.

“What?”

“Do you think you’re getting sick?” They repeat, “It’s getting colder out, you might’ve caught something you shouldn’t have.” There’s a ringing in your ears, you shake your head to dislodge it. Maybe you are coming down with something.

“Just more reasons for you to go out, I don’t wanna get you sick.” You press the back of your hand to your forehead, you should find your thermometer. Your guest hums in annoyance.

“Alright, but think about staying home this week.” You nod, you weren’t planning on heading out again except for groceries, but you can always order in. “Don’t wait up,” They tell you, reaching to flick your forehead as soon as you drop your hand.

-

“I thought you were going out tonight?” You freeze in the hallway, staring at your still home roommate. They look up from the couch, a beer dangling from their fingers.

“Decided to stay in,” They tip their head back to finish the can. You don’t watch the bob of their throat as they swallow. You do rub your eyes in the glare of the television. “Hey, you mind if I sneak in with you tonight?” They ask. The question slides over you like water.

You hum, and nod before you can actually think about what they asked. You turn back down the hall and pad to the bathroom. You hear the TV click off and figure they’re heading to your room. Which is weird. 

When you head back to bed your roommate has already made themselves comfortable. They have one of your stuffed animals on their chest, their hands flopping the bunny ears back and forth while they wait for you. You open your mouth to say something, but nothing comes out.

Having them in here makes you- but you can’t-

You climb into bed on the other side of them and click the light off.

-

You jerk awake. Something physically pulls you awake.

You stare, frozen, into the darkness. The darkness is otherwise occupied, it’s spindling limbs cracking and clicking as they reach with odd angles for your ceiling. They lodge themselves in the corners of your room, eating the shadows cast by the streetlights outside your window. You’re powerless to stop it as it drags threads from your cracked chest. The strings throb, glowing an angry red as the dark monstrous mass that’s haunted your shadow for weeks drags clawed fingers over them. The light catches on the silver of spiderwebs. Lace draped all over your room like a nest. You wish you couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel the air of the room on your lungs. You wish it felt wetter, not this horrible wash of dryness.

Long delicate claws piece out your threads, nudge your lungs to the side and you feel your muscles tense. Your fingers retract, clawing at the sheets, gouging into the soft cotton. Fingers slip against your heart, drawing it from your chest in a mess of veins and tethers. Your stomach rolls, watching the shadows inspect the organ. You’ve never felt your pulse in such a sick way, never been so conscious of your blood or the ways it’s distributed through your body. The wetness of your heart drips onto your lungs.

It’s a short nightmare that seems to last forever before your heart is settled neatly back into place. Your ribs are pressed back into place, skin knit together like it never was moved to begin with. Then the claws reach for your face, palm pressing tight over your eyes and pushing you down deep into sleep.

-

It’s strange how well you sleep with your guest sharing your bed. You always wake up cuddled close, their arms around you as they snore softly. You’re used to being the first one awake. Even without them going out, you find they’re slow to wake up. It’s sort of cute. People seem much less cool and untouchable when their face is smushed in a pillow and their hair is all over the place.

You brush your teeth and wince. You must’ve slept wrong. Your neck is killing you.

Your eyes slide off the mirror, unable or unwilling to hold onto your reflection. You grab some painkillers and make your way to the kitchen to start on coffee.

-

You gasp, coming to on your couch like you’ve pulled yourself out of the sea. 

The news drones on about a festival happening this weekend. Weekend? What day is it? You can’t remember. You frown, check your phone. It’s dead, despite being plugged into its charger. You tug at the cord and it pulls up into your hand without resistance, unplugged from its little cube. Ok, so no sense checking that. You plug the cord back in and watch the little light turn on before getting up.

You can check your craft room. You have a general idea of timing on your projects, you just need to check how far you’ve gotten on- on- 

What are you working on right now?

You stop in the doorway, staring down your neat work desk. Someone cleaned up in here(was it you?) and you haven’t had time to dirty it up yet. There are no scraps of fabric, no balls of yarn, no picked apart pine cones or snapped twigs. You move towards a pile of freshly folded fleece, picking at the soft fabric. You almost remember buying this, that must’ve been at least a week ago. Last weekend, maybe. 

You pick it up to check you didn’t set it on top of any ongoing projects and spot the orange flipper of your duck buried deep in the basket. With a frown you tug it free, the cool fabric making your frown deepen.

When’s the last time you left an offering on your windowsill?

You glance out the window, it looks just past sunset. The house is quiet. Your roommate must have gone out already. You take the duck with you back to the couch and grab the remote. You’ll find something interesting to watch while you wait for your phone to charge.

“-of local nightclubs,” The newscaster drones, their even tone hardly relaying the gravity of their report, “you may be in danger. New police reports indicate that these bars may be the hunting grounds for the trafficking ring that police now believe may be a single disturbed individual-”

You lower the remote, sitting forward to listen with growing unease as the newscaster describes murders you should have heard about by now. Murders that have been going on for weeks. Missing organs. They recount the investigation’s process. The first instinct towards organ trafficking, and the growing evidence towards one organized individual and not an organization. Eye witnesses that can’t remember who the victims left with. Precise injuries and surgical precision, their throats torn out like an animal had attacked them.

There’s something itching at your brain, something familiar. Something you can’t touch. You’re not supposed to touch. You stroke your fingers over the handmade plush in your arms, something warm and stick clinging to them as you self soothe. It dislodges your nerves, shakes them free, snakes through the fog over your brain. 

You tug the blanket off the back of the couch and drag it over your lap. You press yourself back into the corner of the couch, small and safe. It’s your paranoia.

Have you been taking your medicine?

-

You wake up to the front door closing. You must have turned the TV off at some point. You rub your eyes and go to check on your guest.

You flick on the kitchen light and see your roommate roll their shoulders back with a click. They tip their head one way then the other, stretching with an unnatural length to their movements. The shadow they cast skewers the corners of the room. When they turn to look over their shoulder at you, their eyes are almost black, all four of them blink. You press yourself back against the wall. When you blink they’ve turned towards you.

Blood drips down their chest, stains their lips and traces down their throat. Their hands hang by their sides, nails stained with grit. Their tongue darts out and along their lips, cleaning some of the red off.

“You’re-’ You don’t know what to say, feel frozen by your own fear.

“I thought we’d settled this,” They sigh, wipe their throat with their hand and inspect the blood. The level of casualty they display strikes you more than words ever could. 

“Blood, that’s blood,” You stammer out. They shrug sucking on their fingers.

“O negative if you wanna be specific,” Their voice is thick as they swallow, “Organ donor too, since you were so picky about that last time.”

Last time? What are they talking about?

Blood rushes in your ears, your heart pounding so loud you can hardly hear them over the noise. Your hands shake, tug at your shirt. Suddenly you can feel the cloth against your skin, can feel your muscles sliding against your bones, a nauseating sensation you can’t seem to get rid of. The way they talk about this, like it’s something you’ve discussed, something you could be OK with if you just had guidelines set up. You can’t imagine ever being alright with whatever is happening.

Something clicks into place in your mind. The string of murders on the news, missing organs, strange lacerations, drained of blood. Was it them? Your guest holds their chin, cracking their neck as you try not to hyperventilate.

“You’re the one from the news,” You whisper. They hum, and smile at you.

“Fun right? I’ve never been famous before,” They laugh like this is some sort of game. You feel your stomach roll.

“You’re killing people.”

You watch as their usual gentle smile falls, as their entire face seems to fall away into a blank unfeeling parody of the person who's been crashing on your couch.

"So we’re doing this again." The start, picking one of your kitchen knives out of the block on your counter, "What’s the line? I'm not killing people, I'm killing men? Although," They laugh, it’s a hollow cold thing, “I’m really not that picky with my prey.”

Your eyes dart towards the door, you take a half step back. "Don't run," they warn you, condescending as you've never heard them before, "I won't be able to help myself if you run." You don't know what else you could possibly do in this situation. You can't stay, there's no way they let you live now that you know they're a murderer. You have to run.

With a burst of energy you bolt from the kitchen for your front door. You hear a snarl behind you, a “you always do this,” as you flip the deadbolt and rip the door open. You nearly tumble down your front step, but it hardly slows you down. You know better than to look back when you can hear the crashing, feel the strike of claws through the air behind you. How do you combat a murderer? You can feel tears starting to blur your vision, and for once in your life you hope they fall just to clear your eyes. 

How many times have you run to the local police station? The monster behind you had said you’d done this before? Would they think you were crying wolf? Would they put you back in the house with this person? Would you forget again?

You’re caught around the middle and lifted. You scream and kick, push at your captor’s face and claw at their arms. You hardly seem to make a dent in them, all hard muscle and low grunts of pain.

“Calm down lass,” Soap orders, voice dropping with your panic. You dig your nails into his arms, sob and scream for him to help you. He grabs your chin and tips your head to the side. “Christ, bonnie, what happened to ya?” He grits, his fingers skating over your neck. You jerk away from the pain that his touch rolls through you.

You freeze, your breath heaving as you stare down your unwanted guest. They haunt the end of the street like a nightmare, their sticky shadows dripping in the midnight moonlight, streaking to cling to the walls and fall to the cobblestone street. Soap hums behind you. No. Humming is too human a description. He growls. The sound low and vibrating, like a dog warning of its impending bite.

You’re struck by another bout of blind panic. For whatever reason your guest has kept you alive, but Soap is a different story. You can’t be a party to this man’s murder. You renew your desperation as you push at his hold.

“We have to go,” You tell him desperately, watching your guest stalk closer, “they’ll kill us, we have to go.”

“That’s mine,” Your guest growls, the sound whispering through the shadows and making your head pound. You squeeze your eyes shut, press back into Soap’s relative safety.

“That’s too bad,” Soap growls, amusement clear where you’d expect fear, “been feeding me for weeks.”

Your eyes snap open, glancing up at your newest monster. He smiles down at you with too many teeth.

“What-”

“Somethin’ much worse than your little spider,” He tells you, holding up a finger, “boop.” He taps your forehead and everything goes black.

#x reader #x oc #oc x oc #oc: threat #oc: crybaby #johnny soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x oc #johnny soap mactavish x reader #john mactavish x reader #1fae1 #tw gore #tw blood #tw gaslighting #tw body horror #tw manipulation #tw psychological horror #threat doing fucked up shit to keep their girlfriend from leaving #dead dove do not eat

[hiwelcometothemonstersancturary]

Listing a few funny things that happened when Angel had to deal with the media, post rescuing everyone from Playtime Co:

Angel, still shaking from spending one week inside the factory and with dried blood still glued to their hair, smelling like hell, politely answering some questions while in the hospital while waiting for Dogday's emergency surgery to finish.

The media being obsessed with calling Angel, whose actual name is Raphael Taylor de Oliveira, "Angel" the moment they hear one of the toys referring to them as that.

Combine the religious imagery with Angel's poor little meow meow wet kitten born in a cardboard box with every disease face and we have a very, very easy way for making the narrative out to be "a kind ex-worker at Playtime Co. discovers that children were used as experiments inside the factory and risks their own life in order to save them".

Angel is instant-loved by Brazil the moment the first news start to arrive, which is something they're very proud of.

Angel having to hold Catnap and Mommy Long Legs by their hands while giving out an interview in their home, so neither one of them would be too mean to the poor reporters. Angel still has to tell them to be nicer though.

The cops and investigators having to explain why they didn't figure out there was something wrong with the factory when all Angel had to do was walk inside and say hello to the Huggy Wuggy statue.

A reporter explaining the horrific events while in the background Huggy stares at her like "smoll person :0}" and boops her. Cue to Angel saying sorry and anxiously guiding him away.

"What did you have to eat while trapped down there?", someone asks, and the toys all go "oh hahahaha. uhm. rats. and the bodies of our friends WHEN THEY INEVITABLY DIED FROM A DISEASE. we didnt hunt each other dw dw hahahahahaha".

Angel a few months later, after buying the farm, giving a "house tour" so people will know the kids are doing okay and stop pestering them about house-related questions. Angel is very excitedly telling the reporter about how much more space they have now while Catnap is eyeing a bird in the background. "Theo don't you think about that, you have food right there".

One of the mini critters listing all the toys that were gifted for them and saying "it's very nice, very chewable", I like how it tastes" and Angel looks at them like "so it's YOU who has been chewing the toys??????", with the reply being "and the doors as well!"

Catnap going from referring to Angel as "our savior" to simply "our mother" during any interviews or news reports where he somehow talks.

Everyone wanting to interview Dogday because he does, indeed, have a radiant and happy energy and audiences love him.

Angel saying "and the hut is the house of 1006, the first one to ever happen, but he would prefer if we just left him alone".

Poppy being someone who's always SUPER pleasant to work with, and excitedly telling the reporters everything they have been doing around the farm.

Angel sighing after finding out Prototype is Elliot Ludwig, KNOWING they'll have to tell the authorities so they can have license money and control over the Playtime Co. brand.

Angel turning to the family's lawyer like "you won't believe what I just found out", the lawyer saying "oh, this won't be the most absurd thing you told me yet", then after hearing Angel tell her about it going "oh, you are always full of surprises, uh. Uhm. Now that makes things complicated", and Angel laughing to the point of tears after that.

ALL the news reports during the trial against Playtime Co.'s higher ups and the negligent authorities. Kickin keeps a collection of the "best moments", which include Angel beating the ever living shit out of a higher up after he refers to the toys as "things" and "collateral damage" instead of "victims of human experimentation".

The news about the fact that apparently Elliot Ludwig became the first PlayCo. experiment ever, and Angel + Poppy having to deal with THAT.

Prototype's single public apparition, around 4/5 years post-rescue, because he had to go to court as well so Angel would have a chance of getting the rights to PlayCo. and all of its properties back to them.

The news when Dogday and Catnap get married, a whole decade post-rescue.

Angel just dropping the most cryptid information ever in social media or during one of the rare interviews they're willing to give after the initial years post-rescue. They tweet things like "I saw some people asking if any of the toys ever attacked me during the week I stayed at PlayCo, and I want everyone to know that all of them at some point did. But don't worry, I bit them back, we're all good now" and one time say "my husband and I like to grow tomatoes like this, but one of our daughters has been trying another way" and that's how everyone finds out Angel and Prototype are a Thing.

Craftycorn happily blogging her life as an artist and featuring all of the other toys during her videos, while Poppy does makeup and sewing tutorials, and the two of them doing collabs and livestreams often. During one of the streams Angel screams "THEODORE GRAMBELL LUDWIG OLIVEIRA DID YOU JUST HUNT A COYOTE AGAIN", and that's how Crafty and Poppy's fans discover everyone decided to add Ludwig Oliveira to their names.

I would say more but honestly this post has been getting pretty long so rip

#poppy playtime #poppy worldwide #save everyone au #catnap #dogday #experiment 1006 #poppy playtime poppy #craftycorn #the angel

[lowkeyrobin]

Can i have mcyt + cellbit with a reader who has lots of pets like reptiles, birds and mice and stuff?

ooooo okay!! I don't know too much about little rodent pets (/lh) so I had to do some research, bare w me if anything is weird or wrong lmaooo

MCYT ; animal sanctuary

includes ; tommyinnit, tubbo, ranboo, badlinu, nihachu, quackity, & cellbit

warnings ; language, talk of harm towards animals

masterlist

TOMMYINNIT

"Holy shit, what is this? an animal sanctuary? this is your house???"

he loves all ur animals dw

he's afraid of the little parakeets though

he mistakes them for pigeons at first 💀💀

"WHY ARE THERE SPY BIRDS IN YOUR HOUSE???"

"what⁉️⁉️"

he's jittery around the mice and rats but he comes to love them

if you have a lizard/salamander that likes to be heald/climb all over ppl, you know damn well he's allowing it to crawl all over him

so many selfies and pictures of the little critters all over his insta, tik tok and even twitter

he makes a whole segment in his show to talk about your animals 😭😭

"the first time I ever went to y/n's house, I actually almost pissed myself" cue pictures of your little critters on the screen behind him "these fuckers are so terrifying. you see that bird right there? he mocks me everytime I speak! hashtag ban rodents 2024"

TUBBO

"Oh my god."

one how do you afford taking care of all these animals, two, why???

"these are my lizards. they've all been rescued from abusive households where parents gave their kids an animal and didn't care afterwards. most of them had limbs cut off but they've just about all regrown by now"

"Holy shit?.."

he loves the fuzzy critters like the mice, rats, guinea pigs, hamsters etc

not the biggest fan of reptiles or amphibians, they look cool but no touching for him

you guys turn the lights off, and ur led lights on and have a little concert with the animals and stream it (the music isn't super loud dw)

if any of the critters like climbing around on people, he'll always record or take pictures of them doing so

"mothball was climbing all over me today" and below is a video of a little mouse making a home in his hair 😭😭

"I think I need to rename them to Remy because you might be the next Alfredo Linguine"

if he's over at yours while recording a video or streaming, he always gets distracted by the birds and has to say hi and show them off

God forbid you own a parrot for some reason, it's his whole personality now

lovesss talking to the birds that talk back to him LMAOO

RANBOO

absolutely loves the reptiles and fuzzy critters

always taking pictures of them

you two do this fun thing by inspiring outfits around your different animals

like one day it'll be a certain salamander and another it'll be one of your birds

loves handfeeding the critters

loves posting their goodnight pics with one of your critters in hand/climbing on them

you guys go to animal shelters if you wanna find a new pet or buddy for a critter of course

yall always get the ones with the saddest backstories and shit

ranboo gets an axolotl

they're obsessed with her, and is so good at raising the fishy lizard 🫶

you bring a salamander over to meet the fish and they have a connection istg

ranboo takes a pic and posts it to Twitter; "two best friends in two different worlds"

is probably slightly afraid of the birds at first, they're scared of being bit

uses funny pictures of your animals as reaction memes

FREDDIE BADLINU

absolutely loves all your little critters

loves all the colors of them as well, especially the reptiles and birds

if you have a snake, he's terrified to get near it but will always take pictures of it climbing all over you

"You feed him spiders?? 😨😨😨"

he's the bird master

birds all over him all the time, he's a walking bird nest

always taking pics of/with your animals

if you have hamsters, good lord he's paying more attention to them than you 😭😭

"hiiiii, how are you today?"

"why do you actually care about my mice more than me"

also loves taking to the birds that talk back

has genuine conversations with them too

you do a cooking stream and he HIDES A RAT IN HIS HAIR FOR TEN MINUTES

"what the fuck"

"BAHAHAHHAA"

NIKI NIHACHU

absolutely adores all your little creatures

always has to show them off online

and always telling stories on stream

"y/n has this one salamander and she likes to nibble fingers, and one time-"

always taking cute pics with the pets that like to be heald/like to climb on people

she's literally an animal godess I swear

she's a critter whisperer sorry not sorry

always taking videos of funny moments / when you're giving all them time outside the cage

there's always birds on her shoulder, sleeping beauty ass 😭🙏

literally becomes a photographer for ur pets, she takes the best pictures ever

she makes them little hats and accessories 😭😭😭

always buying them toys as well

in the middle of the night you'll be awoken with the RMRMRMRMRMRM of the hamster wheel she got the hamsters

ALEX QUACKITY

"HOLY SHIT WHY DO YOU HAVE SO MANY FUCKING ANIMALS?"

literally has to make a note on his phone to keep track of all the names

he is not touching no damn reptile

always posting pics online

you guys start fostering critters as well

turns on loud meme music and has a concert with the mice

he knows how to call the birds like he's fucking sleeping beauty

"how tf did you just do that???"

"magic"

"okay then 🤨"

you foster a duck together that had her wings clipped

you name her together (it's named daisyhq I can't even make this up. you did the hq btw)

mice and rats all over him and his desk 24/7

and he'll gladly show them off on stream

"can we get a parrot?"

"my brother in christ we already have two birds?"

CELLBIT

also lovessss your critters

he genuinley has conversations with the birds

so many pictures of your animals on his social media LMAO

he names the new ones (you left it all up to him) the most random things

always asking you about toys before he buys them because he feels bad because what if they're lonely and sad but he doesn't wanna potentially hurt them either

always fucking around with the birds when they're hyper

also plays tag with the mice/rats

also loves showing them off on stream and ranting about them for a solid ten minutes

he finds a rat on the qsmp and names it after one of your rats

walks back in the house one day with a rat like "I found a friend! :D"

"Holy shit bro"

selfies with critters in his hair >>>>

alright this is all I got this took me way too long...

#lowkeyrobin #mcyt x reader #mcyt preferences #mcyt oneshot #tommyinnit x reader #ranboo x reader #quackity x reader #badlinu x reader #freddie badlinu x reader #niki nihachu x reader #nihachu x reader #alex quackity x reader #quackityhq x reader #tubbo x reader #cellbit x reader

[frenchfry99]

Moo?✿

Welcome the neighborhood's friendliest flower shop keeper :]

Some Magnolia info below ✿

• being almost as an older sister to Barnaby, she moved to the neighborhood together with him. Starting from when he was just a little pup, Barnaby gave them a nickname 'Lia (short from Magnolia) , which some other neighbors picked up later too.

• pronounces their name as Moognolia Moonroe sometimes not purposely and sometimes purposely to joke around.

• loves puns and jokes, would do them quite often, but you wouldn't really call them much a talkative person. They'd rather listen to others more than speak herself. Magnolia is always glad to hear you tell her about how your day went while she's watering flowers, sorting out pots, and other gardening things at her flower shop.

• she's autistic and semi-verbal, meaning that if she gets overwhelmed/stressed or due to bunch of other reasons (depending on situation) she goes mute. May communicate in little moo's when this happens, but also does it sometimes because she considers it funny.

• 'Lia is a bisexual polyamorous demigirl.

• her and Poppy are like mother figures to my oc Lilly and her siblings (and could be for other neighbors too if they see them as such! :] ).

• she's rather a fluffy than a fuzzy puppet, like REALLY fluffy (inspired by fluffy cows breed) and pretty tall, being almost the same height as Barnaby.

• cows are really social animals, so she'd rather stay in company of her friends rather than being alone.

• has a lazy eye & heterochromia.

• Lia is very attentive and caring about their flowers and all other kinds of plants in her garden, if one of them "gets sick" she invites Julie to talk to it. They jokingly call Julie a "translator from plantish/flowerish", but no matter how funny this all sounds, she really helps! :]

• they're pretty much okay with all the little critters that come to hang out in her flower garden and calls them "her little friends", being not afraid of them unlike her little tailor friend Sunny.

#welcome home #welcome home puppet show #welcome home arg #welcome home oc #original character #puppet oc #Magnolia Monroe #Magnolia Monroe wh #my comfort oc ever #her design is a bit inspired by Miss Piggy #(eyes and muzzle specifically hehuehsh)

[factual-fantasy]

26 ASKS! THANKS EVERYONE! 🥰✨

Me too man. But my mental and physical health is kind'a tanking atm. I just don't have the energy to pick up a passion project of that scale right now..

If you're patient and stick around though, we're bound to see more of my FNAF security breach AU someday.. Once I can get on top of all this crap I'm dealing with-

I AM restingggg 😫 I haven't left my home for any significant amount of time for like 3 weeks- I cant rest any harder! XD

@beryl-shade

Google seems to suggest that an oreo cookie character already exists. "Prime Oreo Cookie" I believe..? :0

@solst1ce-sketches (In response to this post(?))

:DD Thank you! I'm glad you like him!! :}}

:}

(First repair guy) (Second repair guy)

They are different repair guys, and they both do not have a name.. 😔

@lobitowhiteeliaz

Not quite sure what you're asking.. so I'll just answer in multiple ways!

My favorite movies of all time are Pixars cars 1 and 3. I cannot watch either without crying 😭 they are my absolute favorites and I hold them very close to my soul 💖

Still to this day, even after all this time, Gravity Falls is my top favorite show. Despite all the cringe I made for it back in the day- it still holds up as my most beloved show I've ever drawn about.

As for fandom, like the people? I thiiiink the FNAF fandom was my favorite to interact with..? I remember a lot of interaction with the fans in general, which meant a lot to me :)

Bibi and Cici are just odd little critters XD though Bibi is very cat-like in nature and Cici is based on a mouse :0

I'm not sure how they feel about being dolls. I'd assume they don't really mind it! XD

Not sure what you mean but I assume you're right XDD

@something3706

Thank you! Though I don't take requests, sorry!

She is indeed a kid, but that's becuase all I had to go off of was her info picture and fanart I saw of her. For some reason a lot of art I saw of Sally depicted her as this total gremlin character that's always getting into trouble.

So I thought hey! Why not make it so she fell to "Earth" as a little tot and was raised by Poppy? In present day she could be like 13-15 and her chaotic energy would make sense and be fun to mess with!

Though after watching GTlive do a vid on the Halloween update, I realize that I wrote her personality completely wrong. Sooo I miiight need to rework her entire story and character- whoops! <XDD

Considering Sally is gonna need some restructuring, I'm not sure where Poppy stands atm-- <:DD

@fawncr33k

I saw your comment on a post that shows you now know the answer to this- but just to clarify it for everyone else!-

Octo and Seafoam are not gay, nor a couple. Seafoam's heart belongs to Blue Beauty! Him and Octo are just friends/brothers.

Also thank you! :DD I'm honored!

@neo-metalscottic (Post in question)

AAAA Thank you!! :DD I've very glad you like them! :D And I'm not sure how a meeting with the pirates and cowboys would go.. its funny though becuase a lot of Canned Tuna's design was copied from Canned Beans cookie. Even the name! So if they ever met maybe they'd have a stand off XDD

I haven't thought much about how the Captain would react.. maybe the Vegimals are something he just cant wrap his head around and chooses not to talk about it XDD

BUT CALICO JACK!! SEEING VEGIMALS BEFORE?? WHY HAVEN'T I THOUGHT OF THAT!! The Vegimals could be these huge fish creatures when they grow old! And Jack could have SEEN ONE/HEARD OF THEM BEFORE!! Why didn't I think of that?? XDD I'll have to draw something like that sometime!!

@yourstrulylightstar283

Thank you so much!! :D My favorite Donkey Kong game has to be the only one I've ever played, the original Donkey Kong Country!

I also loved Diddy Kong racing, though I see that it doesn't count <XD

@astaherussy

I've heard of Hazbin Hotel, and Helluva boss. I saw the Hazbin pilot ages ago and have seen some episodes of Helluva.. Though they're not really my taste.. <:/

@badlyblurry (Post in question)

:D Thank you! Now I didn't really do any proper research after the fact so I hope the Octonauts info is accurate! <XDD

THANK YOU!!! :DDD

@djh4l0v3rv3r

I think Poppy Playtime it pretty neat! Though I haven't seen a playthrough of chapter 3 yet so I haven't formed an opinion on the smiling critters. :0 Other than their smiles are WAY too big and creepy XDDD

Holy cow.. what a crazy read! I'm not much of a gamer myself but I have GOT to watch somebody play this! :00 Thank you for the info! :D

@raptor1312

WAIT THIS GAME WAS ON THE WII?? I was thinking it was a fangame made for PC??? Like on steam?? ITS A LEGIT RELEASE?? WHAT???

(Post in question)

It was sooooo much tedious coloringggg... 💀💀 Worth it tho XDD

(Post in question)

AAAA IM GLAD YOU NOTICED!! :DD

@shaziztrazh

AWWWW!! HOW COOL!! I love the mermaid approach!! :DD SO PREBBY!!! ✨🤩✨🥥✨

Also thank you so much!! :DDD

(Post in question)

XDD Turns out ditto is my spirit Pokémon-

@nunyabusiness459

AAAA I'm so glad you're interested in him! Uuuunfortunately,, looking back it seems the only artwork I have of Melvin is just a bunch of strange angst for no good reason-

So I'm afraid I don't really have any artwork to share,, and most of the story has already been told.. but this ask makes me want to come back to Melvin sometime! Maybe expand on his story more, or just draw him again in general!

So thank you for the ask/interest, perhaps we'll see more of Melvin someday! :D

#my response #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run ocs #my ocs #factual fam #ocotnauts #fnaf security breach #welcome home #minecraft #minecraft ocs

[quitealotofsodapop]

I want to ask what the Monkie Kid crew relationship with animals is? I know Sandy loves/is loved by cats, and there is a funny theory that I seen that Wukong is just an animal magnet. But what are your thoughts on this?

Wukong has Disney Princess-level animal magnetism. But especially towards Horses. Sun Wukong is barred from most derbies/tracks cus if he walks in, all the race horses will immediately trot over happily cus "The Bimawen is here!!" And he'll happily jump the fence to give every horse a petting. And yeah almost all wild animals (save apex predators) just feel happy around him.

("Havok in Heaven" 1961)

Macaque, despite his foreboding aura, often ends up swarmed by younger/baby animals. He pretends not to know why. It's cause he has shameless mom instincts. Even if he was considered an Outsider to the original Monkey demon troop, he was adored by the infants he cared for. Those said infants are now grown immortal monkeys who see him as their many-times great-grandmother. If Sun Wukong is the honorary "Grandfather/Yeye/Waigong Sun" (as said in JttW) to all monkey demons, then Macaque is "Grandmother/Nainai/Zumu Liu'er". A similar effect occurs in rabbits (decendants of the wild moon rabbits he knew when he lived with Chang'e).

Sandy ofc loves cats and has similar Disney Princess-energy towards wild animals as seen in "To Catch a Leaf". Also tarantulas - you know why.

Pigsy claims to hate animals, but he folds if a cat or dog even headbutts him. Makes a million excuses why he doesnt run off the alley cats the hang out outside the restaurant. ("They're good for pest control.", "Leftovers gotta go somewhere.", "Tang you're petting one right now." Etc).

Tang loves animals like cats, but its a 50/50 if they'll even indulge him. I hc that he's a little scared of dogs and large birds (cicada instincts), but will pet a friendly good boi if they make a good first impression. Thinks pet bugs are really neat and underrated (Pigsy has banned him from getting any).

MK loves dogs. He is pure dog loving energy. Will look at an immortal celestial warhound and ask "Who's a good boy?" and he'll most likely get a tail wagging. Also thinks turtles are mega cool.

Mei I hc wasn't allowed pets in the Long/Dragon household, so she can be over-enthusiastic when meeting new critters, and gets sad when they scurry off startled. Wukong has been teaching her some of his old Bimawen tactics though, since she really loves horses (literal horse girl energy) and was def the little girl who asked for a pony every birthday.

Red Son is def a lizard/bird parent. I love the hc that his fave animals are chickens, and could def see him having a loose hen in the palace (wearing hygenic birdy pants ofc). He also seems like he'd vibe with desert/hot climate reptiles who see him as a heat lamp. Towards cattle and big farm animals tho? His territorial bull instincts flare up and starts picking fights.

Nezha likes snakes. Don't look too deep into it. (They remind him of Ao Bing). Thinks cats and dogs are overrated.

Bai He. Cats cats cats! She loves them in all their forms. Big, small, fluffy, sphinx! Like Mei she can be over-enthusiastic, and often gets scratched/bitten by street animals she tries to befriend. Big cats seem to like her for some reason.

+Bonus au character: Chenxiang loves birds. Especially water birds. They remind him of his very early childhood when ducks, geese, and crane would follow him and his mother while lotus harvesting. Will not stand for goose slander. Will get swarmed by flocks of birds if left alone in a public park.

#lego monkie kid #lmk #lmk hcs #the monkey king and the infant #the monkey king and the infant au #gif warning #sun wukong #liu er mihou #six eared macaque #qi xiaotian #lmk sandy #lmk pigsy #lmk tang #long xiaojiao #lmk mei #lmk red son #lmk nezha #lmk bai he #lmk lbd's host #lmk liu chenxiang #liu chenxiang #liu chen xiang

[monsoon-of-art]

Hhhhh I know that sea creechurs and birbs are completely different, but I love seeing the instincts you give the merfolk in your Pokemon Mer AU.

The need to protect, the drive to hunt, the emphasis on community (staying in a pack or pod), and all that. It's so much fun to see whenever a writer includes stuff like that in their works.

As for the birbs I mentioned, I keep chickens, and they are. very fascinating little organisms. I've seen people with wing aus incorporate things like dust bathing and brooding and even feather-plucking and molting, and it's just... I've observed those things (except for feather-plucking, which doesn't seem to be common in chooks as it is in birds like cockatoos and parrots) and it's so cool to see in other fics.

And you! The way you put in things like grouping together and teaching the young ones how to hunt is so cool! Again, the two groups of critters I'm talking about are very, very different, but it's really cool to see how many creatures share instincts like these, and then to see it applied to people!

Your au is just. Very brainrot. It rots my brain every couple of months and I can't stop thinking about it, and it makes me want to critterfy characters myself.

Also, I found you for the Mer stuff, but I really like your OCs, too! They're really cool, please feed Hayday, I'm begging you, he's so skinny and stressed I want to give him a meal. :<

This is... very rambly, sorry (I should be asleep, but no). But! I hope that you have a good, blessed day, and a good night's rest!

With my mer stuff its kinda funny, I made the 'basis' for them years and years ago for a different fandom, and I actually lessened the 'critter-fication' of them lmao (or its there I just havent talked about them)

But! It might be the neurodivergent part of my brain, it may be the dormant furry in me, but I love critter-fying things. It's so fun. Bc they're not human, they'd have their own quirks and society and culture! And thats fun to think about!

Thank you for this ask, it was so nice to read and reread ;w;

#pkm mer au #as for hayday: no 😈 #some of the behaviors I removed were burying pups in sand for safe keeping and not knowing human languages #it would've made things tricky #I do worry bc I absolutely don't want to paint these behaviors as negative!!!

[deadbydangit]

I've been loving your "reader brings an animal home" posts. When you get a chance, can you please write the same for Nurse, Pig, and Plague? Very interested to see what animals you'll pick! Thank you!

Absolutely! These are all loosely based on animals I would bring home. Please enjoy. Sorry if this one wasn't as good. I had it written out and then it was all deleted.

With a reader who brings an animal home

Nurse, Pig, Plauge

Pig

A pig?

Really?

"Cute. Real cute."

Yeah because she's a pig and you brought home a pig.

Haha, very funny.

She's more annoyed than anything.

This is the kind of joke someone like Ghostface would make.

She doesn't expect that kind of childish behavior from you.

Whatever.

It's yours to take care of, she wants nothing to do with it.

Until you hear a training one day.

"What? Pigs are like, really smart. He needs mental stimulation."

"Well, it's not like you're training him or anything."

And now Amanda is training your pig to find materials for making traps.

She's completely taking over the role of caretaker now.

On her rare lazy days, you'll see Amanda sleeping with her piggy.

You can bring it up to her, telling her about a time when she really didn't want the pet.

"Yeah, Yeah. You can rub that in my face all you want."

She's willing to admit she was wrong about that.

Nurse

Believe it or not, Sally would absolutely be the one to bring an animal home.

She has an affinity for cute fluffy little critters.

So coming home and finding her cradling a ferret shouldn't come as that much of a surprise.

"But I found him all alone in the cold."

"You would make me put him back would you?"

"All by himself where a big mean animal could eat him?"

She's not trying to gaslight you.

Okay, she's absolutely trying to gaslight you.

But Sally looks so happy.

How could you take that away from her?

You just can't.

Soon she'll be knitting little outfits for her new pet.

Oh, and there will be a stroller for it.

"Aw, he's just a baby, see?"

Even if it's a full-grown ferret.

She's a bleeding heart for cute little things.

Don't be shocked when you walk in and see four more ferrets.

"What? He needs a family. Just like us."

And then more of the: "You won't make me put them back, right?"

But, in all honesty, she does take very good care of them.

They're her children.

They are your family.

Plague

You brought a goat home.

A goat.

You don't even have to ask her.

Because the moment she saw the goat, she was groveling at its feet.

Remember, her god?

The sea goat?

Yeah.

She's already dashing around the house finding expensive foods and fine clothes to give to this goat.

"It's a descendant of the sea god!"

"We are being blessed s/o!"

Yes, the goat is sleeping in the bed.

No, you can not get mad if the goat eats the sheets.

First person to eat during breakfast?

The goat, obviously.

She might be getting a little too hyped up about it.

This animal is like a spoiled rotten puppy.

And it knows it.

Adris let's get away with way too much.

So much so that she might scold you for scolding it.

But you can't deny that she's not happy.

Seeing her snuggle up with a little goat makes her seem so much more alive.

She had it rough enough in her life, let her have this little sliver of happiness.

#dbd imagines #dbd ask blog #dbd x reader #dbd killer #dbd nurse #dbd plague #dbd pig

[realizinau]

I love your art style, it's so unique! 🤍

I was wondering, are the critters kids or adults in your au?

Thank you!!! 💜💜💜

That's funny you ask that since I just specified in my pinned post, same braincell :)

They're children! They're a little older than what the orphan children tend to be in Playcare since they've been there a minute, but the oldest of the group is like 12 so, still little guys for sure!

#mod answers #realizin' au

[boyfleshripper]

Now I want to ramble abt my favorite enemies. Gr. I could talk all day abt how much I enjoy masks dude. While I don't really find them scary I always feel slight dread when I'm on my own and hear footsteps and no talking to go along with them. Hearing them giggle or sob while they walk around is also just so.

Coilheads are also fun because I never process them fast enough when I'm on my own but I still process ENOUGH to get an Oh no! Kind of reaction out.. Process too slow to turn around but process fast enough to be like WAIITT! As the pitter patters rapidly approach . I love their weird little slappy feet and how they go doiiingg ! As much as I get mildly annoyed when they show up at inconvenient times I really enjoy their designs in like. All aspects. I love how they're a weeping angel you can actually hear, and also how fucked up they look . Along with how they kill people and the fact that their bestiary says they're mannequins. Do you think they make people look like them because they aren't supposed to look like that? Like. Maybe they were normal mannequins at some point. Idk.

Skipping rambling about the jester because I will actually be here all fucking night typing .

Brackens are so fun because they have the most personality methinks and also they can. Really put you on edge. Or they used to put me on edge before I saw them in the same light as like a weird lost cat. Lol. I love how even from a far distance you can make them out cuz of their little eyes and the slight horrified feeling when you were just with a friend and turn around and they're gone with nothing left but a blood trail. So fun!!! They always appear with coilheads for me and I find it fun figuring out how to manage both .. Even though it usually ends in me dying to one or the other. I love brackens stupid little crawl too ah. My favorite. I always try to catch them crawling cuz its so cute. They are so cute!! Their stupid little growl and their leaf shake . I HAAVE to pet one . My god.

Nutcrackers finally my beloved. I love how silly they ar. Theyre the least scary things on the planet dude . They're just so funny in all aspects like how they can just walk straight past you and also how they kick players. So in love with em. I love how they sound as I mentioned previously as well. Love their stompies and their music . Both jester and nutcracker have music I like to sit and listen to like. So much so I forget I have to live sometimes. Nutcrackers so cute I want to hug them I do not care if they kick me so hard every bone in my body shatters. They ar. Heart emoji.

Thank you all for listening to my dumb rambles . My lethal fixation is so strong I could actually talk nonstop abt these critters for hours but I chose not to for the sake of everyones sanity. Like I'm so insane even my parents have vague lethal knowledge . My mom apparently likes the bracken and my aunt likes nutcracker . I was going to draw nutcracker for her but I cannot be normal about that thing . Ok sorry end of ramble . Thank you tumblr for being like a diary its the best thing ever . Post textpos