Medieval Insults Novels & Stories

“Watch how you speak. You’re talking to a woman.” Pierre’s head snapped toward me, and he narrowed his eyes. His gaze locked onto mine with the fierce, unblinking focus of a tiger ready to lunge. He took a slow breath. “How dare you insult her—” “No, I’m not,” he snapped back. “I’m just telling the truth. But what about you?” His voice sharpened, irritation leaking through every syllable. “Weren’t the ridiculous things you said to her also a form of insult? You praised her too much. Those honeyed words... those are insults.”

“What’s your problem, commoner?” Kilvic heard the tone in which he’d said the last word. His grandmother in one of her lessons on human interaction had taught him to look for such tones. It was regarded to infuse disgust in whatever word it was applied to; to turn it into an insult and invoke inferiority in its target. Nevertheless, Kilvic couldn’t see how the word ‘commoner’ was an insult. “Unhand me, you peasant,” the boy hissed, going a step further. This was the insult Kilvic could tell. Calling one by a station obviously below one’s own was inaccurate and disrespectful. Even greater demons took insult at such insinuations, and they weren’t intelligent enough to know enough.

An old lady walked up to her and cursed, “This is adulterous. You would have been sentenced to death if you were in the Medieval Period! Ptui!” A thick sputum was spit on her, like a knife scraping a piece of flesh off her body. Crack! Jean felt a pain on her forehead, and then egg liquid flowed down her face. After the first person started it, the rest of the people followed suit. Eggs, rotten vegetables, and smelly fish rained down on her. Some even came up and splashed paint on her. She buried her head in her hands, but did not cry. She told herself that she would not admit defeat until she achieved her goal.

Empty words, baseless insults, and half-hearted arguing. With me, always there was an undertone, a tension. Like we were fighting stupidly because what we were really mad about wasn’t something we could admit to one another. Our insults were designed to make us unaware of each other's feelings, but here, listening to them, it's more like scoring brownie points.

Dante couldn't resist puffing out his chest with self-importance. However, Rosalie wasn't about to let his arrogance slide. "Oh please, a rich kid? That's nothing to brag about. You're nowhere near Sebastian's level. And you think you can give dating advice? Take a good look in the mirror first! You're like a toad!" Her retort was laced with scorn. Dante immediately exploded at her words, shouting, "What the hell did you just say, you crazy broad? Calling me a toad?" When was the last time Dante had been insulted like this? And by a woman, no less! It ignited a fury within him.

And just like that, he turns and climbs up the stairs to the hall. Only one with higher power can silence a lecturer this way. I gulp. ... Words/phrases and their meaning: * Na over-familiarity dey bring insult — over-familiarity breeds contempt * Just say it pain you — just say my comeback hurt you

She would not let him play the innocent. "You should have let me know you were sterile, you old fox." The cruelty of her words permeated into Mr. Borodin's bones and marrow. The accusation was one thing, causing a deep, lasting hurt that he will carry with him, but the insult - 'old fox' - didn't just shock him momentarily, it seeped into his very being, cut far deeper.

ucking believe a slut like you.  You would be sued for defamation of Laura’s character and I hope she makes sure you rot in fuc.king jail where you fuc.king belong like a disgusting flea you  Bit.c.h  Sl.ut  W.h.ore ‘Her use of this much language is hurting my already tired brain cells. Can’t she type on sentence without the F or B words?’ I sighed as she rained colourful insults on me one after the other. Again, I was reminded that sometimes demons can look innocent and harmless, like Laura.

I’m a Summers witty comebacks are in my DNA. “You really can’t think of a better insult. I told you before, true or false being a lesbian isn’t an insult. Even if I did swing that way, I told you I wouldn’t touch you with a ten-foot pole. So why are you and your gaggle of plastic cunts giddy this early in the morning?” I arched my brow, eyeing each of them.

"Well. See this young man?" "This one greatly insulted me, the Queen of the B Empire so I was enraged and wanted to exact punishment on him for Lèse majesté." The middle-aged man who arrived furrowed his brows and tightened his grip on his gardening tool. Hearing the explanation of the Blood Countess, he glared at her and said, "Are you kidding me?" "Why would I? I swear in my name as Bathory Erzebeth that all that I have said is true and can be found scoured in the history of this place."