#enemies to a secret third option

[laughtalelogs]

❄impossibilities - zoro x reader❄

❄ day 2 - little lie, trapped together in a snowstorm, “I thought you knew where you were going?!” ❄ fandom/character(s) - one piece - zoro x reader ❄ warnings - no beta reader, gn!reader, enemies to ???, forced proximity, implied sexual themes ❄ word count: 1.6k+ ❄ description - what happens when an unstoppable force, you, is crammed a tin can with an unmovable object, zoro? you both hate eachother's guts— that's what.

--

sorry this one is so late! today caught up with me bad. hope you enjoy, this one is actually complete this time too!

tomorrow is everyone's favorite lesbian, nami! I should have that one up timely, since it'll only be a small blurb.

check out the rest of the days here

The bitter cold was all consuming. The wind raged over the icy hills. Its whistling rang against the metal that shielded you from its burn. Snow pelted the foggy windshield in a thick layer of white, frost seeping into the cramped, humid caravan. You looked over at the man in front of you— well, what you could see, at least. 

Hunched over, his thick thighs squished against both walls. He made a poor attempt to find comfort as he spread his legs wide but preserved what distance he could from you.

Yet, your knees still knocked together. The polyester squeaked as you both tried to avoid contact. A green glow lit the dark silhouette of his brow bone and jaw. His scowl was clear, even in the dark. 

You rubbed your clammy, cold hands on your snowsuit. You weren't sure what made you more uncomfortable. It was a toss-up between the swordsman, your freezing feet, and the sweat rolling down your back, soaking your thin cotton shirt that insulated you like a sauna.  You didn’t know how long you could take this, and it seemed he was at his limit too.

“You do realize this is your fault?” His voice sliced through the stale, warm air, snapping his head up at you, voice leaking with annoyance. 

“I don’t control the weather, Zoro,” you bristle, avoiding his unwavering gaze.

You look behind at the console, the screen blinking an incessant warning on the panel: Warning, low temperatures detected. Return Brachio Mini to Franky immediately. 

"But you control this." He gestures at the broken panel.  “We could’ve been back by now.”

“I’m sorry I like to be thorough; you wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” You snapped back, but a small ounce of guilt bangs in your chest. As if you didn’t already know that, you thought. It didn’t stop you from holding on to your sliver of pride.

“When has Nami ever been wrong?” He tried to adjust for the hundredth time with no luck.

You sighed. How did he know how to get under your skin and fester there? “It was just sunny outside! You even took a swim earlier,"

“Now I’ve got a stalker?” His lips curl in cruel amusement, making your eye twitch with anger.  “That still doesn’t answer the question.”

“Fine, Nami was right. that's what you want to hear?” you hiss between tight lips. "And she’s going to kill us if we don’t freeze to death. Or maybe the lack of oxygen will come first.”

He tilted his head. “So Nami is right, and I’m not?”

“Glad to see you have your priorities straight.” You can’t help how naturally your eyes roll into your skull. He always brushed off the danger, like an annoying fly. It was a mere inconvenience to the brute. While he sat there, calm and unwavered, you were trying to quell your racing pulse, worry eating away at your patience.  

“I’m not dying here, and neither are you. I told you I could open the hatch." His voice was soft but determined. You feel your chest burn. 

“And lose the heat? Are you stupid?” you grumbled.

“You’re the one worried about the air.” He shrugged.

“Yeah, and I’m also worried about freezing to death too. Say, do you have anything between your ears, or is it just a stand for your sword?”

“Ha. Ha. Ha.” He claps, each echoing off the tinny walls. You sit in silence, trying to calm down. 

"I only agreed to come because I knew you'd get lost." You repeat, fiddling with the transponder snail. Still, no signal. 

And that was something Zoro couldn’t argue with. He slanted his eyes down at you as you turned back toward him, crossing your arms over your chest. Silence enveloped you once more, thick with tension and aggravation. 

You could see it so clearly 3 hours ago. Zoro went off by himself on the island. He either got into trouble or got lost, causing it. With limited options, you knew tagging along was the better one. He never tried to see it from your angle, no matter how hard you would persist. You used to feel envious of this, how his troubles would roll off his shoulders like a duck sheds water. Now, you realize he lacks the brain to see the issue. 

With a voice laced in anger, he broke the silence once more. “Anyone else would’ve gotten us back to this ship now,”

“Beggars can’t be choosers,” you shoot back. “And I’m not anyone else.”

“You got that right,” he muttered, shifting as your knees knocked together again. You ignore the swift blow to your ego, pestering further. 

“So you rather Sanji?” 

“Please, don’t say that name right now; my head hurts enough with just you here.” 

"Answer my question, swords." You point your finger at his chest. The heat of his body radiates into your finger. He swats your hand away, rubbing the spot like it burned. 

“Both of you are annoying. One of you is lucky they're—" He paused, catching himself, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. You tilt your head, leaning closer in curiosity. 

"Never mind, this shit is stupid.” He trailed off, voice low as he avoided your gaze. His face twists between disgust and something else you can’t quite label; his eyes flicker away.

“No, finish your thought. Lucky? Lucky for what? And who?”

“I’m not doing this with you right now.. You're impossible.” He groaned, rubbing his temples. “Let me try to fix it; we’re losing daylight.”

You stared at him. “And do what exactly? I don’t think you can slash yourself out of this one.”

He looked up at the ceiling, hands reflexively thumbing the swords jutting at his hip. “That’s not a bad idea, actually.” 

You scoffed. “You can’t be serious.” 

“As a heart attack. Move.” He grabbed your shoulder, standing up, hunched over with a hand gripping Wado. You dug your heels in and leaned back. 

“No.” You glare at him, ignoring how his frame folded over yours. You sink further into the chair to avoid his gaze. His legs slot into yours awkwardly. “I won't let you ruin our only way back.” 

“And I’m not going to listen to your constant whining anymore. Move.” He grips tighter on your shoulder, eyes boring into you, unreadable. “Now.” 

“I won’t, asshole!” you seethe, but you’re losing your bite as he dips his head down, slamming a hand down behind you in frustration.

“ I have had it up to here, with you. You can’t control everything.” He whispered tersely, eyes searching yours for the answer.

"I don’t,” you whispered back. 

“Then why have you insisted on doing everything? There’s no I in team.”

You try to deflect, picking at your sleeve. “I’m surprised you can spell."

He rumbled your name, and you looked at him, eyes serious. The green highlights his small, pouting mouth. It reflects pretty shimmers off his earrings, which sway with his movements.  His grip on your shoulder loosened as he loomed down, his face impossibly close to yours. You feel his breath feather against your cheeks, warming your windburned skin. 

“Trust me, dammit..” His voice was low, not commanding, but pleading- a small tinge of frustration laced within his voice that left you wondering ‘trust you with what?’ 

The weight of heady legs pressed closer into yours. You freeze.

 ...Was he?

 You watch his eyes soften as his eyes dart across your face. For a brief moment, he eyes your chapped lips, his own twitching into something too tender, too vulnerable to be meant for you. You were rendered silent, trying to steel your legs from squeezing his toned leg between them.  this must be some cruel dream you were conjuring for yourself. But no, you both were here, breathing in each other's air, staring into each other's eyes for what felt like eternity. You feel your body buzz with the palpable energy left suspended in the air. 

Before your brain can catch up with your thoughts, you exhale sharply, lips forming a soft ‘o’. You were unable to back further away, feeling yourself pulled in by his gravity. He couldn’t be... Could he? 

But then- 

Sharp metal and glass clash violently after Zoro swiftly unsheathes Wado, stabbing the panel behind you. You scream and jolt forward, tumbling into Zoro’s chest as he falls back, sparks whizzing in the air. The interior groans and spurts, before suddenly, the engines whirs with purpose. The lights of the cabin flicker on, and the power levels itself out again.

“What the hell was that?!” You jump out of Zoro’s arms, pushing away the arm he had wrapped around your waist. You can see the way his cheeks are dusted red, but he leaned back, sheathing the sword. 

“I fixed it. See what happens when we can trust each other,” He smiled.

You look at him incredulously. He was stupid, but not braindead.“That wasn’t trust! that was- you- you tricked-”

“What did you think was going to happen? I’m not that easy.” He smirked and you feel embarrassment eat away at whatever nerves you have left.  He did know what affect that had on you, and seemed to relish it. 

“I’ll kill you with my barehands,”

“Why don’t you just get us home instead?” He juts his chin to the panel.

You try to calm your shot nerves for a moment to think, reaching at whatever remnants of the panel to carry yourselves back home. You needed to be far away from him, as soon as possible. Your hands twitch as you try to retrace the land, snow melting slowly off the windshield. 

You worry on your bottom lip.  Great. 

“I... I think we’re lost.” You force the words out of your mouth, defeat weighing you down.

“I thought you knew where you were going?!” He yelled behind you in exsperation.

"Uh.. yeah, my bad."

Maybe you were a little impossible.

and legends say they are still in the snow, battling their sexual tension, frozen in time lol.

hope you enjoyed this! If you can't tell I like when zoro is mad at you lol. Sorry if the end is a bit rushed :')

ngl I highkey wouldn't mind making a pt.2 to this with MAYBE some smut- but forewarning, i’m rusty asf. if you would want one, let me know! this was definitely supposed to be longer, but I thought it'd be cute leaving it off here.

If you enjoy that, check out my other stuff (x)

[aimbutmiss]

I've said this a lot (a lot of people have actually) but I will say it again because we got two seconds of cross guild in the new opening and I can't stop thinking about them:

Cross guild is the funniest and most random dynamic to exist ever. How did Oda even come up with the idea like what was the thought process

"I bet you can't come up with the most ridiculous trio and make it work so hard that they become the most iconic trio to ever exist"

"alright bet"

[demonic-shadowlucifer]

im already tired of the 'man vs bear' debate. it went from actually meaningful discussion about sexual assault and how men need to do better to just purposefully ragebaiting incels and nothing of actual value. and that's not even getting into the fact that the discourse only focuses on survivors who are cis women, and less focus on trans survivors, enby survivors (and even male survivors for that matter). hell, transphobes have already started to invade the conversation. we need less rhetorical questions about abuse, and more actual uplifting of survivors and actual education about abuse (for all genders for that matter!)

the man vs bear topic has done nothing to help survivors, and i will die on this hill.

[secretsoftheuniverse1987]

Enemies to lovers can really go either way after the enemies become lovers and in my mind, they're always one of these two:

[mhaccunoval]

down with pachyderms, judith & the holocene, or a secret third option...

[potterpasta]

i think one of the major problems when it comes to hypothetical offspring for my ocs is the ones whom it would be most interesting for them to have kids are also the ones who under no circumstances could ever possibly be a parent, much less a good one

[bigcats-birds-and-books]

lovers of hardbacks, unite (or, more likely, divide)!

dear reader! hello! do you enjoy hardback books? do you love having opinions and pressing buttons on tumblr dot com?? then oh, boy, do i have just the poll for you!!

say you're reading a hardback book that comes with a dust jacket--a book you own, perhaps, or have borrowed from a loved one or lifelong rival or sworn enemy, or anywhere else besides the library (for the purposes of this poll, we must both Have and Be Able To Remove The Dust Jacket, i'm sorry, it's very important for Science™).

please answer for your IDEAL/MOST COMMON COURSE OF ACTION--weird exceptions need not apply (unless you want them to, or you want to holler about said exceptions in the tags/replies/reblogs. i don't know your lifestyle, but i DO want to know your polarizing opinions on the care and keeping of dust jackets) (you can also holler about why you chose what you did in general, even without weird exceptions. in fact, i look forward to reading this Discourse).

***this is SPECIFICALLY ABOUT HARDBACKS, please don't skew my science with paperback propaganda :( i myself tend toward a paperback way of being, but right now Inquiring Minds Need To Know About Dust Jackets and Dust Jackets Alone***

[simplyzeeka]

P Y R O

Pairing: Terry Richmond × Black OC (Ayesha) Mafia fic

Warnings: Minors DNI!! Threatening, break-ins, arson, violence, guns, knives, kidnap and hostage, Mentions of murder/attempted murdee, crime, Mentions of blood, use of the n-word, knife-play, creampie, unprotected sex, oral (f-receiving) smut...lots of it. Short enemies-to-lovers(?)

Summary: Terry Richmond tries to get revenge on the family that is said to kill his cousin Mike. After the first two failed attempts, Terry sought to finally succeed at the next attempt. After all, third time's the charm, right?

A/n: Please read the warnings!!!

The first time Terry Richmond broke into Ayesha’s home, he nearly burned it to the ground with her in it. The big-eared pyromaniac purposefully poured a trail of gasoline from the living room to Ayesha's bedroom and lit it all up with some matches.

She managed to leave through her bedroom window just in time to call the fire department. And they arrived just in time to salvage the majority of her important belongings, sadly, the same could not be said for the home. Renovations would've cost too much time for her and it wasn't considered safe anymore. That day, Terry Richmond did not only create a fire on the land that Ayesha owned but also sparked a flicker of rage within her.

The next best thing would be an apartment, Ayesha's social relations did not make going to the cops an option (even though most were in her pocket). Having a cartel leader of a father had its perks, unfortunately that came with a risk to her safety.

Despite the discretion that apartments offered, she believed that there was enough security that limited the possibility of unwarranted visits.

Until Terrence Richmond broke into her home for the second time. His dullard self didn't think to wait long enough until Ayesha’s defenses were lowered just enough for him to attack.

Her paranoia urged her to treat a knife like a secret lover as it laid comfortably in her bed just underneath the pillow, enclosed tightly in her hand. The second time Terrence Richmond broke into Ayesha’s home, he left with two stab wounds, one on his abdomen, the other on his leg.

That was also the day she got close enough to look him in the face, and at just the right moment, with just the right amount of light, Ayesha swore life looked back at you when her eyes met his, despite the deep mug that dug into his face. Earthy pools of green, blue and touches of brown are all she caught a quick glimpse of. That was the day Ayesha questioned a little too often, just who the fuck was disturbing her peace.

Weeks passed since Terry's second attempt, and while that should have settled Ayesha's heart, she knew better than to believe she was out of the man's radar.

That much was figured out at Terry’s third attempt, when he again, assumed that Ayesha would be sleeping away on her bed for long enough before he took her with a silencer.

But Ayesha was ten steps ahead, and with her obvious luck, Terry had run out of his. Ayesha had been preparing for her parents’ charity gala for the new year that night, yet her attention was grabbed at the soft sound of beeping from her phone. Seemed like the man who wanted her dead had triggered her sensors.

Ayesha had just enough time to turn off her bedroom light and hide in her closet before Terry stealthily walked into her room with a gun pointed straight ahead, Ayesha couldn't help but marvel at his skill, for a man so big he was soft on his feet.

She couldn't help but wish she had left the light on so she could spot the confusion in his eyes when he noticed the empty bed in the middle of her bedroom. She didn't dwell on that long enough though, she instead took that moment to pounce on him.

Gun pointed to the back of his head, Ayesha quickly cocked it back and took it off safety before going straight to giving orders. “Put the gun on safety and throw it on the bed.”

Terry followed instruction, obviously in a vulnerable position, he didn't dare do something that could jeopardize his life. “Leave your hands in the air too.”

Ayesha reached her fingertips beneath the wool of his black balaclava, pulling it off his head. In hurried steps, she walked around Terry, leaving enough distance between them so she could have enough time to shoot if he attacked.

“Shirt off.” Another instruction she gave, which Terry also obliged to, couldn't help but to smile slightly because what was her game plan?

The patch on his stomach confirmed that he was, indeed, the person who had been trying to kill her. The red stain in the middle of the gauze let her know that he didn't bother waiting to heal before attempting this third attack.

“Pants.” Ayesha pointed to his legs with her gun. Terry tilted his head with a vicious mug on his face, one that would've had her thighs clenched together if he wasn't trying to kill her. It didn't take good lighting for Ayesha to know the man was something dangerous in the looks department, his size did more than enough.

When she noticed his reluctance at following her instructions, Ayesha sighed. She ordered him to put his hands behind his head before walking closer. With her gun pointed right under his chin, she looked right into his soul-snatching eyes. “You try anythin’ funny, I'ma make a new chandelier with your brains. My trigger finger always happy, so don't test that.”

Her other hand busied itself with patting his waist down to check for weapons before it began unbuckling his belt. Terry couldn't help but smile down at her, her eye contact was heavy and persistent. “Tryna get blood all on your white ceiling?” Terry asked, boldly playful.

“I don't mind it, red's my favourite colour.” Ayesha smiled sarcastically before pulling his belt out the loops of his pants. Then she unbuttoned the pants, undid the zipper before the sound of fabric hit the floor.

Another gauze on his leg, at the exact spot she stabbed. Yeah this was definitely him.

She ordered him to grab her vanity chair and pull it into her closet before he sat. With only the closet light on now, Ayesha got a perfect view of his face. It was a struggle to tie him up while trying to ensure he doesn't attack her. Although Terry had many opportunities to attack her with the chances of success, he didn't attempt to, he only kept a cocky smile on his face like he knew something she didn't.

Terry could account for the comment about red being her favourite colour. Her lips were painted in cherry red lipstick that looked delectable against her brown skin. Dressed in a, once again, deep red bustier dress that had sleeves draping off her shoulder, exposing just the right amount of cleavage.

She tied some rope from her closet around the whole length of his body until Terry winced from the burning friction of the rope on his skin. “You into bondage?” he asked, the corner of his lips lifting in provocation.

“Only if you like it too.” Ayesha responded with a fake smile, pistol still pointing at his forehead. “Enough chitchat, nigga. Who the fuck are you, and what you want?”

Terry only shrugged, smile still yet to fall from his face. Ayesha tried not to let his nonchalance worry her, just who was she dealing with and was this a dance she wanted to partake in.

Just as she was about to continue her interrogation, her doorbell rang and echoed through the entire luxury apartment. With a pointed look, she tilted her head before putting her gun back on safety then slipped it between her breasts. “Well, looks like we gon’ have a sleepover today. I trust you'll behave?”

It was rhetorical, that much was obvious to Terry, but he couldn't help but turn it into banter. “Well you ain't been hospitable, so I can't make no promises.” He began with a smile as he watched her reach for a ball gag in a black box that sat isolated in the corner of her closet. “But then again, you got me tied up real good, can't say I'll be able to misbehave.”

Ayesha rolled her eyes before she tied the gag around him. “Can't be hospitable to unwarranted guests.” She murmured once the gag was secured. With a final look she backed up from the closet and offered a small smile. “Well, stay put. I'll be back before you know it.”

Ayesha closed her closet door behind her, she remembered to grab his gun on her bed with a towel and put it in her safe before leaving her apartment.

Out on the hallway, her driver waited patiently. “Sorry about that, Ray. Had to take care of a lil somethin’.”

“All good, miss, everything alright?” Ray asked with a pointed look, his dreads framing his face as he looked down at her.

“Just peachy, let's head out.”

Domén Nwa was an extravagant events hall. Owned and built by an influential black woman by the name of Dalan Moise, Freddy Stount couldn't have found a better venue to host his annual charity gala. Despite him being morally questionable, uplifting black owned businesses and black people in general had been his goals for many many years. He wore that badge proudly under the name Pro-Black.

“This looks so beautiful, My Love.” The voice of Ayesha's mother filled her ears as she walked closer to where her family stood. Picture perfect as others would see, but her family hid their wrong doing well, why else would her father be hosting this gala. Generous people were never suspects.

Anaya Stount, a woman who aged like fine wine and loved wholeheartedly. Ayesha never once wondered why her father worshipped the ground the woman walked on, the woman was deserving of many luxuries. She was the first woman that Freddy practiced his generosity on.

“It is, ain't it? Dalan did well.” Freddy responded as he looked around the hall filled with high-end people.

Classical music echoed through the hall as Ayesha reached her parents and greeted them both with tight hugs and cheek kisses. “Hey mommy. Dad, everything looks amazing.” Ayesha complimented the place as she looked around.

“It does, doesn't it? Ooh, there's Shay. That woman ain't bring back my Tupperware. I'll be right back, love.” Ayesha’s mom kissed her husband on the cheek before turning to her daughter. “We gon’ catch up later, Dolly. You look so pretty, baby.”

Ayesha and her father laughed at her mother, there's nothing that women held precious that her Tupperwares.

Freddy cleared his throat and turned to his daughter. “When were you gonna tell me your house was burned down?”

Ayesha sighed, not nearly as prepared for this conversation as she was before she came here. She knew it was only a matter of time before her dad found out about that. “I was gonna tell you today, dad.” She explained while she scratched the skin between her thumb and pointer finger.

“You were supposed to tell me the day it happened.” Freddy countered sternly. When the fire was broadcasted on the news, he identified Ayesha’s house straight away, and his worry peaked when she didn't answer his phone after a few tries.

“Well I made it out in time.” Ayesha smiled at people who were passing by, not wanting to seem suspicious to other guests from the tense conversation. “Besides, there's more that we need to talk about. After the party though. You know where Briana is? I need to talk to her.”

Freddy huffed at his daughter before telling her where her sister went. Ayesha followed his direction. Up the spiral stairs of the hall, Ayesha pattered her feet towards the smoking lounge.

The room smelled of weed, and Creed perfume. “Now you know daddy don't like you smokin’ that stuff.” Ayesha stated as she moved to stand a few feet away from the tall woman.

Briana Stount, a woman of grace and intention. Only rarely did she do something she did not want to. She always stood tall and poised, and the confidence of her footsteps clacking in heels always wavered the confidence of those around her.

“You of all people know I don’t really care what that man like or don’t like.” Briana countered after blowing out the smoke from her mouth. She turned around and smiled at her younger sister. “You look so pretty, Dolly.”

Ayesha cheesed at her sister and walked over to her to wrap her in a tight hug, not caring about the smell of weed anymore, she'd just drown herself in perfume again. “Thank you BriBri, you look the prettiest.”

Briana offered her gratitude for the compliment before they detached from their hug. Ayesha reached over for the blunt in her sister’s hand before ashing it out. “You and daddy still beefing? Thought y’all smashed that.”

Briana rolled her eyes before she shook her head. “Let’s not. Please and thanks.” Briana waved a dismissive hand before looking at her sister with a more stern look, “Let’s talk about the fact that somebody tried to kill you.”

Ayesha winced at the confrontation. “About that… I may or may have not caught and tied the nigga up in my closet.”

“Say what now? And he still alive?” Briana asked with a frown.

“Well, yes. We gotta find out why he tryna kill me, Bri. What if there’s a bounty on my head we don’t know about?”

“Ain't nobody stupid enough to mess with dad like that, this gotta be somethin’ personal. Have they said anything yet? Does dad know ‘bout this?” Briana began pacing, her fingers threading through the thick strands of her afro.

“No and no. Daddy is a kill now, ask never kind of man, I’m tryna get answers.” Ayesha countered before grabbing her phone in her purse. “Besides, I’ve got a surveillance system all over the apartment.”

“Even in your closet?” Briana frowned at Ayesha with a small smile.

“Yes, after the first attempt… I wanted to be safer.” Ayesha countered before opening her home security system, flicking through different rooms. “Now we can watch and make sure he’s-”

When her screen filled with an image of her closet, her heart sank to the floor. Right there where the chair was… where Terry was supposed to be, sat tangled red rope with no man in sight. She changed to check her bedroom’s camera, his clothes which she had left on her floor were nowhere in sight either, but what made her heart sink even lower was when she noticed her safe wide open, right where she locked his gun along with hers.

“Ayesha!” Briana shook her sister’s shoulder, shaking the woman out of her spiraling. “What’s wrong?”

“He’s not there… he was supposed to be right here. There on the chair… and he’s not. He took his gun.” Ayesha rambled on as she pointed at the screen where Terry was *supposed* to be. She was hyperventilating. If he knew the code to her safe that means he must know where she is now, where her family was.

“This is exactly why I don't want you wrapped up in Dad’s shit.” Briana cursed under her breath, “Okay, calm down. Let’s… let's get you outta here and get you somewhere safe, this will probably be the first place he comes to.”

Ayesha practises her breathing, long inhales and deep exhales to slow the pounding of her heart. Her hands trembled at her sides and for the first time, since Terry’s first break-in, she was actually scared. There was so much more to lose now, there was her entire family and their image at risk. Regardless, she nodded at her sister's words as the older woman ushered her out the empty room.

“You go find Dad or Ray, someone who’s got a gun on ‘em and stay there. I’ma get the car ready and text you to leave so we can get the fuck up out of here.” Briana urgently ordered once they've reached the hallway.

Ayesha nodded, the confidence she had when tying Terry up was now slightly cracked and shaky. Just who was this man? She watched as Briana hurried down the hallway before she disappeared out of sight. Ayesha took in another breath before she stalked down the empty hallway herself.

“You know, for somebody who claims to be into bondage. You are really bad at it.”

A baritone filled her ears, one that had Ayesha freeze in her steps. She turned behind her and there he stood. Tall, menacing with an abstract smile on his face. “It's okay though, there’s plenty of time to teach you.” Terry added, the top row of his teeth peaking out his lush upper lip.

“The fuck do you wa-” Ayesha began before she was interrupted by the sound of a cocking gun. One that looked too familiar, not because it was Terry’s gun… but because it was hers.

“Walk with me? Noticed a beautifully decorated balcony out there. Nice and private.”

The walk to the balcony wasn't long, but with every step, the hallways seemed to stretch longer and longer as Terry walked behind Ayesha with the gun pressed to her side.

He led her outside, hand gripped firmly at the back of her neck as her silk-pressed hair flew back with the gush of wind that hit her face.

The breeze should have helped cool her nerves, but her body burned as though the gun had already been shot and a bullet pierced skin.

Terry lowered his head, and he spoke a few words that rattled Ayesha's whole world.

“You gonna tell me everythin’ you know about Mike Simmons. Don't omit nothin’.”

Ayesha swallowed the lump in her throat before she straightened her posture, making sure to keep her breathing level. “How the fuck you know Mike?”

It was a messy question, one question that gave answers to many that weren't asked. Terry frowned at it because it seemed personal, too personal for a murderer.

“Don't get shit twisted, I'm the one askin’ the questions. Now,” Terry urged as he pressed the pistol deeper into her skin, causing Ayesha to wince slightly. “Answer me.”

Ayesha stayed silent. Although Freddy Stount was her father, he was a crime boss before that. He put every single family member, even his wife, under oath. You live by the gun, you die by his.

“Oh you don't wanna talk?” Terry walked around her, her neck replaced by her jaw as he gripped it tightly, forcing her gaze to meet his. “It ain't just your life at risk, baby. What, you thought I'd just let your sister go?” he threatened with heavy breaths.

Ayesha's heart thumped faster than when she first got into trouble with Briana. They had snuck out for a party during their teenage years which recklessly led to Ayesha being lost on some rich kid's private road. Briana spent the entire night looking for her and they both spent the entire morning getting lectured by their parents when they got back.

However, that predicament did not compare to this, one of them was actually in danger now, a situation of life and death and at that moment, Ayesha could give any less of a fuck of any damn oath.

“What you want to know?” Ayesha asked in a shaky breath, making a mental note to tell a lie as close to the truth as possible just to throw him off.

“You tell me. You're the one that killed him.” Terry spoke lowly, his eyebrows only digging deeper dents into his forehead like the ones his fingers were digging into her jaw. Veins popped from his neck as he struggled at controlling his breathing.

Just muttering those words sent his mind into a frenzy. Mike was still young, still had a lot of life to live, only for it to be taken by power-greedy capitalist criminals.

Terry was so into his head that he didn't even notice the way Ayesha frowned. Except this time it wasn't in pain, or even fear, but it was in confusion. As if Terry spoke of something taboo.

“K-killed?” She stuttered as Terry's hand unknowingly moved from her jaw to her neck. Her hand was wrapped tightly around his wrist. She tried to speak but her airways were cut by the taller man's strong grip.

It wasn't until a few seconds after that Terry let go of her that Ayesha sputtered gasps and coughed out, forcing oxygen back into her lungs. He kept a vigilant grip on the gun however, pointing it at a breathless Ayesha, urging her to speak.

Once she caught her breath, she spoke words that shook Terry's core.

“Mike isn't dead.”

Mike worked for Freddy Stount. And while Freddy wouldn't call Mike his right hand man, the older man didn't trust anyone else like he trusted Mike.

Like Ayesha, Mike's affiliation with the cartel leader meant his own life was at risk. Hence someone tried to kill him and pin it on none other than Freddy Stount.

When Ayesha told Terry that Mike wasn't dead, he didn't want to believe it until he saw his cousin with his own eyes. And when he did, nothing he believed made sense anymore.

They held a funeral for him, everybody back home believed Mike was dead. Gunned down doing Lord knows what in the middle of the night. Only for him to be alive, breathing and on the run from whoever was trying to kill him. Trying to beat the race of death.

Ayesha claimed to be trying to figure out who tried to kill him. Other than Briana, her father and now Terry, no one else knew that Mike was still alive.

Terry demanded to be a part of the investigations, and while Mike didn't want Terry to have parts in this, Terry told him to shove it.

And that's how Ayesha now lived with the man that tried to kill her, right there in one of her guest bedrooms, with his hands cuffed to the headboard for her safety.

The first few weeks of them trying to ‘crack the case’ was filled with tension in the apartment. Briana had to stop Ayesha and Terry from actually killing each other with how much they argued.

If Ayesha didn't have a knife to his neck, then Terry had a gun to her head. Ayesha's apartment had become a new safety hazard.

So much that Briana once left them mid-argument, having had enough of the whole cat and mouse game they played while risking each other's lives.

And despite all that, Ayesha does not know how she ended up in this position.

Back against the wall as she hung on his shoulders with his head between her legs. Terry had her dress bunched up around her waist as he became acquainted with the taste of her arousal.

She had just come back from a friend's birthday party. All hell broke loose when she saw a dirty bowl in the sink and used that as an excuse to decompress all her frustrations onto Terry.

One moment she was screaming in his face, and the next Terry was eating her out like he hasn't eaten in months.

“Oh my God.” She gasped in breaths as her hands held onto his head as he shook it from side to side.

Terry had his eyes on her while he ate away. Some of her juices ran down his chin and got caught onto the hairs of his goatee.

Ayesha nodded down at him, muttering chants of praise in small whispers. “Yes yes yes yess.”

And Terry's tongue wanted to do nothing but comply with her need to cum. That and the face that he wanted her to rain on him, shower him with all she had to give or whether the fuck SWV said.

He suckled her sensitive bud of nerves into his mouth. Switching between languid and intentional flicks of his tongue and smooth suction of his hollowing cheeks.

Terry Richmond was a giver, and with that came him being a sloppy eater. But contradictory to that, he didn't dare leave a trail of arousal from Ayesha. He made sure to slurp up everything that leaked from Ayesha.

“Fuck. I'm gonna cum, Terry. I'm gonna cum, I'm gonna cum.” Ayesha warned in hurried moans as she tapped his arms.

Terry hummed against her pussy, his grip on her waist tightening just enough for Ayesha not to fall off as she rode out the waves of her orgasm.

Ayesha’s pussy squelched as her juices leaked out of her and Terry mashed his tongue against her sopping mound.

Ayesha threw her head back as she chanted how much she adored his tongue, how great he was treating her. So on and so forth.

Terry landed soft kisses on her pussy and occasional licks that had Ayesha pushing his head back with a hiss. “Mm-mm. Can't.” Ayesha muttered.

Terry sent one last kiss before helping her off his shoulders. “Sweet ass pussy.” He grunted as he settled her onto the ground.

He looked down at Ayesha as she awkwardly looked around. “You good now?” He asked, still making sure that Ayesha was still backed up against the wall, forcing her to look up at him eventually. “Attitude gone?”

Ayesha couldn't help but look away after looking at him for too long. She slipped away from his proximity, her bottom lip stuck between her teeth. “I need to freshen up.” She murmured before disappearing into the hallway. “Wash your face, Terrence.”

After she cleaned herself up, showered and dressed in a nightgown, Ayesha was ready to retreat into her bed, call it a night and prepare herself for the dread she would feel the next day as the reality of what she let Terry do to her body crashed down on her.

Sat on her vanity chair, she did a portion of her skin care, too inebriated to do everything as she usually does.

Ayesha's calming thoughts were disrupted when her door clicked open and in walked Terry with his brooding and unavoidable presence. She sighed softly, put down her serum with a heavy huff as she looked at him through the mirror.

“Something wrong?” She asked with a raised brow.

Terry took slow, menacing steps towards her. Soft on his steps yet heavy in her mind, she couldn't shake him off even if she wanted to.

He had his bottom lip caught between his lips, shaking his head no at her question. “Mh mm.” He emphasized with a hum.

“Need something?” Another question, however, this time it was breathy because he was a few meters too close for Ayesha's resolve.

This time he nodded his head, the corners of his lush lips curved upwards. “Yes ma'am.”

“How can I be of assistance, Terrence?”

He was right behind her now. Bent his waist low enough where his nose grazed the skin of her neck as he kept his eyes on the mirror in front of them. “Could start with droppin’ the formality.”

“Can't do that.” Ayesha shuddered as she felt his breath on her neck. “Formal is the base of our-”

“Then follow with only speaking when asked a question.” Terry interrupted, landing a swift kiss on the hot skin between her shoulder and neck “Think you could do that?”

Ayesha frowned, she sobered up after her shower, but Terry's words were jumbled in her head, a long stream of disjointed letters that flowed too fast to create a sensible thought in her head. “W-what?”

“That's not an answer, Ayesha.” Terry urged, keeping his eyes on her through the mirror as his teeth nipped at the skin on her neck.

“Yes.” A simple answer that showed she understood, but it wasn't an answer that Terry was satisfied with. Ayesha could tell by how his lips detached from her. Her skin suddenly felt cold, and it froze when she noted the intensity of his stare.

“Yes, Sir.” She corrected.

That elicited a hum from Terry, his hands worked skillfully on her chest, massaging her full breasts, her nipples caught between his thumb and pointer. Terry occasionally applied pressure on the hardened peaks, earning a surprised gasp from Ayesha.

From her chest to her waist, then her thighs. Terry lifted her nightgown. Deep red sat beautifully on her skin, and he swore the colour had never looked better than it did when Ayesha wore it.

“This okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Want me to stop?”

“No, Sir.”

She had no panties on, because Terry’s fingers made contact with warm slick when he nudged his hand between her legs. Her thick thighs were perfect hand heaters.

“Mm, she was just hungry wasn't she?” He asked with a deep laugh, one that scratched Ayesha’s ears pefectly. “Got you screaming at everythin’ and everyone.”

His fingers rubbed slow, intentional circles on her hardened bud. Ayesha's hips bucked and she let out a broken whimper. More of her juices flowed out her already sopping pussy.

“Mhm, look at how she crying.” He slipped a single finger inside of her and began slow thrusts, curling his finger to find her spot. “It's okay, Daddy’s got you baby.”

Terry spoke to Ayesha’s pussy like it was an actual person, and it spoke back through the sound of squelching noises filling the room.

Ayesha threw her head back when he slipped in another finger and his speed quickened. With his free hand, he threw his fingers through her sweated-out silk press from her shower. “Keep your eyes on the mirror.” He ordered while Ayesha flooded his hands with her arousal.

Ayesha obeyed, looked at herself as her face contorted to an expression of pleasure. Brows drawn together and lips shaped into a small ‘o’. “Ooh shit shit shitttt.” She drew out as their eyes connected in the mirror.

“Pretty ain't you?” Terry teased, let out a soft laugh when Ayesha attempted at clenching her thighs together to deter his movements. “Mhm. Fucking pretty. The prettiest baby.”

They moved to her bed bench, right in front of her full body mirror. Ayesha was assured that Terry had a voyeurism kink, but she couldn't dwell on that thought with the way she was so full of his dick.

There he sat, legs spread with Ayesha sat between them. Her hands held onto his thighs as she rode him like her life depended on it. “Fuck. So big, so big, so big.” Ayesha whined as she struggled at focusing on the task at hand. Keeping her eyes on the mirror.

“I said sit on it, Ayesha. Sit on this dick.”

Terry wanted to fill her to the hilt. Which sounded impossible. He was already so deep, and the stretch was still taking some getting used to. She lifted herself off his lap to relieve herself of the heaviness of his dick.

But Terry wasn't taking that, his grip on her hips tightened as he helped her slowly impale herself on him. Her pussy tightened and she unwillingly threw her head back. “Fuck fuck fuckk. Wait.”

But Terry wasn't listening, especially not with the way she clenched around him. “Sidong pon it, all di way.” He coached, groaning when he felt her tighten even more around him. “Mek mi go in, Ayesha.”

“I can't-.”

“Yuh can.” Terry interrupted, as usual, before he sent kisses down the length of her back. His hips began bucking slowly, gathering her cream around its thickness, some of it connecting their bodies together every time she rose.

The way he spoke to her, accompanied by the accent and the way his tip kissed her cervix was more than enough to have her cumming. She couldn't muster up the

“I'm cumming. I'm cumming so much, oh my God.”

“Keep it comin’. That's it, pretty girl.” Terry coached her with practised ease, as if he has seen Ayesha in this position time and time again. Like watching himself rock up into her was a normalcy, like feeling her drown his dick was something she regularly did.

Ayesha clenched around him, her walls tightening enough that her pussy whispered at Terry, told him not to leave, to stay just where he was and continue delivering the precise and deliberate thrusts that helped her ride out her orgasm.

She spasmed, her thighs trembled as she tried to keep them closed. Ayesha gripped at Terry's muscular thighs as her head fell backwards, her hair flowing in Terry's face. Silk press now thoroughly sweated out by the roots.

She let out incoherent gibberish and let in heavy breaths to make sense of the way someone as random as Terry had managed to make her react this way to the way he touched. As if his dick siphoned something yet to be unleashed from her, along with the cum that dripped down both of their skin.

“Look at her. So pretty, creamin’ on this dick so good.” Terry grunted as he kept his eyes on where they connected.

Terry sent a much too audible smack to Ayesha's ass that had her recoiling from his touch. But she'd be lying if she said it didn't make her pussy leak with more need.

“Get your ass on the bed,” Terry began, lifting her off his dick, causing the both of them to wince slightly. “Gonna wear that ass out.”

And he couldn't have been more accurate. Terry held Ayesha up by her hair, his fingers threading tightly through the frizzing strands.

His eyes were stuck on her ass, watching waves ripple on the skin as his pelvis slapped against her supple flesh. Ayesha was thick… thick as fuck and Terry couldn't hide his admiration for her body.

But he had to focus, because Ayesha clearly didn't give a fuck about the knife Terry held to her neck with his other hand.

Turns out Ayesha hadn't stopped sleeping with the knife under her pillows after finding out Terry wasn't exactly an enemy. Terry found the knife under her pillows while he had her head pinned to the mattress as he plowed into her.

One thing led to another, and now the blade of the knife grazed the thin skin of her neck while he held her body up by her hair.

“Focus Ayesha. Keep your head up baby. Shittt, c'mon.” He moaned as he watched her throw her ass back on him, giving back the energy he gave a tenfold.

“I'm tryin’, I swear I- oh my fuckkk.” Ayesha cut herself off, tears streaming down her face as she let out quiet sobs. No dick should feel this good, fuck splitting her pussy open, Terry was damn near intruding her mind.

Would she be out of her mind if she told him she loved him? That didn't sound so bad with how fucked out she was, not with the way Terry's calculated thrusts made home in her soul. Put his initials on that shit and call it his. Had no value without his name on it.

“Try harder, do better Yesha. Or you want me to stop?” Terry slowed down his thrusts as he asked.

Ayesha immediately shook her head, waited until she could take in a heavy breath before splattering a bunch of senseless begging. “No please please please, I'ma do better.”

Terry smiled slyly at her mumbled moaning. He lifted the knife from her neck, replacing it with his hand. He pulled her up, had her back arching away from his torso, her head tilted backwards so they could make eye contact.

From her neck, the cold steel of the knife traveled down between the valley of her breasts while Terry kissed the side of her face, getting a whiff of the smell of her Jasmine perfume mixed with sweat.

“This dick feel good?” Terry whispered in her ear, his strokes so painfully slow Ayesha swore she could cry.

Ayesha nodded her head as best as she could. She kept her eyes on him, brows furrowed, jaw falling open with her lashes wet with fresh tears.

The sound of her squelching filled the room, which did little to settle the faucet between her legs.

Terry wasn't satisfied with her silent response. He clicked his tongue, angling his hips where he dug her out so perfectly it had Ayesha mewling. “Uh-uh, say Yes Terry.”

“Yes Terry.” Ayesha whined back immediately, would do anything if he kept fucking like he was now. Slow, long strokes that would have her cumming her claim on his dick. Signed, sealed and respectively hers.

“Mmh fuck yeah.” Terry moaned, and dropped his head on her shoulder, pace still slow and intense. “Now say Yes Daddy.”

“Yes Daddy, yes yes yess.”

“That’s what I'm fuckin’ talking ‘bout.” Terry kissed all the exposed skin his lips had the honor of meeting. “Now fuck Daddy back, put that ass to work.”

And Ayesha did as told, couldn't help but be such a good girl for him.

Terry threw the knife on the floor, reached his hand between Ayesha’s legs, his fingers finding her clit, covered in both of their mixed cum from their previous orgasms. He rolled perfect circles on the swollen ball while he sucked hickies on her sweat covered skin.

“You gon’ nut with Daddy?” His voice was the perfect scratch to her itch. Ayesha loved the way he talked her through everything. Nut after nut was filled with him whispering nothing but filth and praise into her ears. “Show his dick how much she love him?”

“Yes Daddy. Dick so fuckin’ good, so good. Fuck fuck fuck.” Ayesha stuttered, nails clawing at the skin of his thighs while his pace quickened.

The movement of his hips was very sloppy. He was close, but so was Ayesha. She was already dripping onto the sheets she was sure wouldn't be revived with a simple washing.

Terry saw white spots in his vision, his hand let go of Ayesha's neck. He watched her fall onto the bed, instantly gripping the sheets and sobbing into the mattress.

“Fuck I'm cumming.” Terry announced, both his hands gripping on Ayesha's hips, pulling her towards his dick as he fucked into her with precise intention, coaxing her realest put of her.

“Oh my God.” Ayesha gasped, her stomach twisted in a way she had never experienced before. She reached a hand behind her and attempted to push Terry away to deter his movement. “Fuck, hold on. I- shitt.”

Terry couldn't bother himself with listening, not with the way her pussy was milking him dry. He had his head thrown back, lower lip caught between his teeth as his brows furrowed. “Fuck yess, baby. Just like that.”

“Daddy's cumming.”

And Ayesha felt every single vein of his dick as he twitched inside of her. She felt the pulse of his thickness when he spilled inside her, painting her walls white with his nut and rutting his hips into her.

Ayesha squirted right around him too, her juices spraying around his pelvis and her ass. Their pleasures mixed inside Ayesha's hot mound while she sobbed into the sheets.

Their orgasms rode out as they both watched their breath. A pregnant silence fell in between them, Ayesha still clenching the sheets in her fingertips to ground herself.

Lrt out a soft wince followed by a whine when Terry slipped himself out of her, feeling overstimulated yet uncomfortably empty now.

It wasn't long until she melted into the lush sheets when she felt Terry's wet muscle in between her pussy lips. Slurping away at their mixed cum. “Oouu shit.” she hummed lowly, hand reaching under her to caress his head. The tips of her fingernails scratching against his scalp gently.

“Mhm. Pretty ass pussy.” Terry mumbled as he pulled away, licking his lips to catch the beautiful concoction of both their cum. His hand made a sharp contact with her pussy before flipping Ayesha over to lay on her stomach.

He fit his body between her thick thighs, planting short and deliberate kisses on her lips, hand cupping her jaw before he slid his tongue against hers. He sighed against her lips.

Ayesha hummed at the taste of them both landing sweetly on her tongue, their lips molded together as if it were one of reconciliation. It was sloppy and noisy, but importantly filled with a passion they were both too tired to defy.

After a few extra pecks, Terry lifted his head, pulling away slightly to catch some air. “You good?” Terry searches her eyes intently, eyes switching from eye to another.

Ayesha nodded her head with a small, serene smile. Her eyes low and her breathing still a little rapid.

Terry squeezed her hip in warning, his eyes cutting low into hers, coaxing Ayesha to fix her mistake. “What I say?” Terry began with a vicious frown that almost had Ayesha clenching her thighs with him between them. “Say Yes Terry.”

And immediately she knew where she went wrong without him having to say anything, still the correction made her chuckle lowly. “Yes, Terry.”

Terry hummed in approval, sending kisses along the length of her neck and massaging her thighs and waist. “I'm ready to get back up in there.” Terry’s words muffled against her sweaty skin. “Come sit on it again.”

Ayesha rolled her eyes, and shook her head at his damn near impossible request. It hadn't even gone past ten minutes and he already wanted to get back into it.

Ayesha didn't know how they got to this point, but she had a feeling this wouldn't be a one time thing. So much for trying to catch Mike's killer.

“No, I'm tired and sweaty and I need another bath.” Ayesha spoke, her fingers grazing the sides of his waist. Terry landed a few more kisses on her plump lips, not wanting to hear the rest of the sentence.

“Which is why I said sit, we not gonna do anything’ else.” Terry attempted to justify with a sly smile and a deep chuckle.

“I don't believe you.” Ayesha muttered, yet still she shimmied herself from under him, positioning his sticky tip at her entrance as she hovered over his sweat covered, chiseled body. Adonis-built motherfucker.

“I’m tryna fuck the attitude outta you.” Terry claimed, his brows sinking as Ayesha slid down on his dick. “Gahdamn, wet as fuck.”

“Mm shit.” Ayesha moaned, her hands landing on his chest to ground hold herself up. “You already did that.” she croaked at the stretch, “Fat fuckin’ dick. Oh my God.”

Terry hummed, watched her hover the few inches left. “Well this is the readjustment,” He stuttered before his hands naturally landed on her hips and ushered her further down his dick. “I said sit. No mek mi repeat miself.”

Ayesha was damn near sure that was his fourth attempt at killing her, except this time… he could actually succeed.

Taglist:

@blyffe @peachbutterfly-blog @browngirldominion @blackmoonchilee @megamindsecretlair @mogul93 @earthchica @nayaesworld @cdotmvkspaz @zillasvilla

A/n: this was fun and stressful to write, but we made it. Now I'm taking a break for real and trying to find inspo for Ruffian, and Something Seasonal.

Please comment and reblog, or send me asks about this or any other one of my fics. Hope you enjoyed this as much as I did, I enjoyed it too much.

[atomicjellyb3an]

i love Caitvi fics where Jinx and Caitlyn aren’t enemies but they’re definitely not friends and just a secret third option

basically getting along for Vi’s sake but they begrudgingly respect each other

[herbert-best]

What Agravaine and Dinadan have going on in Book 10 Chapter 25 of Malory is unparalleled— (the world's longest post oh my GOD it didn't look so long while I was writing it)

First off, consider that they are both: known for their witty rudeness, their poeticism and cutting jokes and quick tongues ¹, their perceived unknightly values ², their knowledge of the private business of their fellows (to the point of spying on them in secret) ³, and their conscious use of rumor and reputation to influence how others are seen⁴— only, Agravaine is censured for it, and Dinadan is universally beloved at court, except by Agravaine himself ⁵. The heel-turn that happens in Malory with Agravaine & Mordred being suddenly villains happens in one chapter while they’re interacting with Dinadan specifically. It highlights the extent to which your reputation— how the court perceives you— shapes reality for a knight. A knight is only as good as his reputation. The way people speak of a knight is the only reality about that knight… whether or not it’s true. The series of events here is wild imho. Subtler readings of Malory seem few and far between but listen.

The frame of context here needs to start a couple of chapters before, in Chapter 11— Dinadan is traveling with King Mark (reluctantly).

“Right as they stood thus talking together they saw come riding to them over a plain six knights of the court of King Arthur, well armed at all points. And there by their shields Sir Dinadan knew them well. The first was the good knight Sir Uwaine, the son of King Uriens, the second was the noble knight Sir Brandiles, the third was Ozana le Cure Hardy, the fourth was Uwaine les Aventurous, the fifth was Sir Agravaine, the sixth Sir Mordred, brother to Sir Gawaine. When Sir Dinadan had seen these six knights he thought in himself he would bring King Mark by some wile to joust with one of them.”

He pretends they’re enemies and charges toward them, lance out, so Mark will panic and flee, and then—

“So when Sir Dinadan saw King Mark was gone, he set the spear out of the rest, and threw his shield upon his back, and came, riding to the fellowship of the Table Round. And anon Sir Uwaine knew Sir Dinadan, and welcomed him, and so did all his fellowship.”

Absolutely no beef with Agravaine and Mordred here. In fact, as we roll into Chapter 12:

“Will ye do well? said Sir Dinadan: I have told the Cornish knight that here is Sir Launcelot, and the Cornish knight asked me what shield he bare. Truly, I told him that he bare the same shield that Sir Mordred beareth. Will ye do well? said Sir Mordred; I am hurt and may not well bear my shield nor harness, and therefore put my shield and my harness upon Sir Dagonet, and let him set upon the Cornish knight. That shall be done, said Sir Dagonet, by my faith. Then anon was Dagonet armed him in Mordred’s harness and his shield, and he was set on a great horse, and a spear in his hand. Now, said Dagonet, shew me the knight, and I trow I shall bear him down.”

(Mordred is half-dead for like 70% of Arthuriana, poor kid) So they’re friends! More or less, anyway. At the least, they have overlapping friend groups, and, knowing who his options are, Mordred is specifically the one Dinadan chooses to bring into the prank— he didn’t know Dagonet was around, and though he might have known Mordred was too injured to do it himself, the prank still relied on Mordred’s willingness to give up his arms to someone else for the express purpose of scaring King Mark shitless.

But by Chapter 25, though— their next appearance on the page— Dinadan wants nothing to do with them. This is, again, the wrestling heel turn wherein Agravaine and Mordred get the minor-key leitmotif etc, etc. They’re theoretically portrayed negatively here and hereafter, where before they were mostly… doing things like pranking King Mark. There’s a reason in the intervening chapters, but we’ll get to that. Here’s how the chapter opens:

“Now leave we of Sir Lamorak, and speak of Sir Gawaine's brethren, and specially of Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred. As they rode on their adventures they met with a knight fleeing, sore wounded; and they asked him what tidings. Fair knights, said he, here cometh a knight after me that will slay me. With that came Sir Dinadan riding to them by adventure, but he would promise them no help. But Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred promised him to rescue him.”

Now there’s an inauspicious start, if you want to say Agravaine and Mordred suck— a stranger, badly wounded, fleeing from someone who wants him dead, and Dinadan says it’s none of his business. The honorable, knightly task of protecting a wounded man asking for aid from a murderous pursuer is taken up by Agravaine and Mordred. Unfortunately for them, this is one of those Breuse Saunce Pité stories where he rides across the scene for no reason except to beat the ever-loving hell out of whatever knight of midrange skill happens to be center stage at the time, for no reason beyond devoted and passionate rat bastardry (Thomas Malory, a knight during the War of the Roses: “don’t you just hate it when that one guy shows up to just make everything suck in your entire province as much as possible with no higher motivation other than YORKISTS GO TO HELL? I know I do! Except when I am that guy, of course!” Thanks Tom.). So he yells his own name whilst obliterating Agravaine and Mordred with utterly unnecessary cruelty, to make sure they know who did it (gee, thanks).

Now, we don’t yet have any cause to think Dinadan and Agravaine & Mordred have had a major falling out— Dinadan has been previously established to not fight when the moon isn’t in the right lunar mansion to make him feel like it today, etc, and he’s abandoned people to handle things for him before without it stemming from ill will, but it does seem to take quite a bit to get him to concede to help— it seems like more than would usually be the case—

“And yet he rode over Agravaine five or six times. When Dinadan saw this, he must needs joust with him for shame.”

Agravaine is on the ground, being trampled over five or six times by a loudly gloating Breuse Saunce Pité, before Dinadan determines it will, in fact, reflect badly on him if he doesn’t do SOMETHING. He unseats Breuse successfully (“with pure strength” okay go off Dinadan. You could’ve lead with that tho.), who then grabs his horse again and skips town without pursuit. Breuse, as he leaves, is described as “a great destroyer of all good knights.” Paragraph end.

Now we get into the meat of this episode, starting with the immediate following sentence.

“Then rode Sir Dinadan unto Sir Mordred and unto Sir Agravaine. Sir knight, said they all, well have ye done, and well have ye revenged us, wherefore we pray you tell us your name. Fair sirs, ye ought to know my name, the which is called Sir Dinadan. When they understood that it was Dinadan they were more wroth than they were before, for they hated him out of measure because of Sir Lamorak. For Dinadan had such a custom that he loved all good knights that were valiant, and he hated all those that were destroyers of good knights. And there were none that hated Dinadan but those that ever were called murderers.”

At a glance, it scans as good sense. But then— why is it that Dinadan’s feelings about them aren’t mentioned, just theirs about him? It seems surprising that they hate him more than he hates them— and Breuse was JUST identified as meeting the precise description of what Dinadan hates, but Dinadan didn’t seem overenthused to act against him. And what’s up with the specific framing of “none that hated Dinadan but those that ever were called murderers”? Not ‘only murderers’? And, more importantly, didn’t this chapter start with “Now we leave of Sir Lamorak”??

Because, of course, Lamorak isn’t dead. He’s fine. The intervening chapters involved Gaheris’s killing of their mother in bed with Lamorak, Gaheris admitting that he and Gawain (specifically and exclusively— where was Agravaine, while we’re at it?) killed Pellinore to avenge their father, and telling Lamorak that it wouldn’t be right to kill him like this so just watch out but he’s not going to touch him right then but like watch out!! Gaheris has issues but that’s okay. Lamorak also threatened him right back with blood feuding, for his part, saying his own father’s death was as yet unavenged on the Orkney clan. (Never 4get that Malory’s Lamorak is offered a blood price by Arthur to mediate the feud and refuses it, saying he’s not done feuding yet. Play stupid games, my guy—)

But this leaves a big ol’ gap in the logic here. Agravaine and Mordred have never murdered anyone. Agravaine and Mordred have never destroyed any good knights. Why do they hate Dinadan so intensely on Lamorak’s account? They hated Lamorak the whole time, and Dinadan was clearly never on their side about it. Why does—

I would say again, “And there were none that hated Dinadan but those that ever were called murderers.” He’s known to be close only with good knights, and he’s befriended Lamorak. He’s known to hate people that act against good knights. And if you dislike him, it reflects badly on your reputation— maybe inherently (if you came into my house and said “hey I hate your cat” I would not like you ever, which is probably how Tristan at least feels) but this is also the guy who wrote that mean song about King Mark to ruin his reputation and humiliate him and had it taught to a bunch of people who were then sent out to perform it across Mark’s lands. With Arthur’s explicit approval, too— which makes it a political act of lowkey espionage, which is wild and very sexy of him (also one of the foundational elements of my ‘Geralt of Rivia is a purposeful adaptation Tristan’ rant but we don’t have time for that right now). He doesn’t have a reputation for gossip, but he’s very clearly not unaware of how influencing people’s reputations works. Everyone loves him, and anyone who hates him is publicly maligned in image as a murderer. Or do people only hate him if he’s maligned them that way? Is that something he does? It would explain why it doesn’t seem to apply to Agravaine and Mordred on a practical level, in spite of their explicit hatred of him.

But he was friends with them! Recently! And they haven’t killed anyone or been implicated in any deaths (Gaheris, as I mentioned, confessed that he and Gawain killed Pellinore to Lamorak, but Agravaine isn’t part of that, and Mordred was like 12 and per Malory in a fishing village in BFE presumably at the time). However— Gaheris certainly has. Lamorak has been telling everyone about Gaheris killing Morgause. Everyone is explicitly talking about it at court.

If Dinadan is prone to that sort of thing— leveraging his influence and significant skill with public opinion against those he thinks have done serious wrong— he’s likely been smearing Gaheris publicly in solidarity with Lamorak.

And, quite frankly, going after Agravaine and Mordred’s brother is the only thing that would make them madder than going after them.

But we left off mid-paragraph there, in fact:

“Then spake the hurt knight that Breuse Saunce Pité had chased, his name was Dalan, and said: If thou be Dinadan thou slewest my father. It may well be so, said Dinadan, but then it was in my defence and at his request. By my head, said Dalan, thou shalt die therefore, and therewith he dressed his spear and his shield. And to make the shorter tale, Sir Dinadan smote him down off his horse, that his neck was nigh broken. And in the same wise he smote Sir Mordred and Sir Agravaine. And after, in the quest of the Sangreal, cowardly and feloniously they slew Dinadan, the which was great damage, for he was a great bourder and a passing good knight.”

Holy shit. What the hell. For one thing that escalated extremely quickly. For another thing all three of these people are half-dead already Jesus Christ everyone chill. But also— The entire idea of Agravaine and Mordred being murderers ties into their blood feud to avenge their father. Malory doesn’t touch on Dinadan’s adjacency to it, but we know his brother Brunor (that Knight of the Hideously Cut Jacket, who I briefly imagine as David Byrne in a great helm whenever I think of him) for his sartorially-signified revenge quest— Dinadan’s father was murdered, which probably has something to do with his hatred of destroyers of good knights/murderers. So it’s wrongfully-slain fathers all the way down, and then this wounded knight— that Dinadan initially refused to aid in escaping being murdered by Breuse— suddenly interjects to accuse Dinadan himself of wrongfully slaying HIS father! We’ve never seen Dalan before and we never see him again, but I think this specific interjection can be read as doing some absolutely insane heavy-lifting for this scene.

It’s not uncommon in medieval writing for a sort of moral predestination to hang over everyone— saying that Agravaine and Mordred hate Dinadan, only murderers hate Dinadan, and then that they go on to murder Dinadan could all be viewed as a fulfillment of the middle statement— they ARE murderers, even if they hadn’t killed anyone yet, so the statement is true! Except for Dalan’s outburst. This guy was badly injured and fleeing from Breuse, knowing he wasn’t strong enough to face him. Dinadan unseated Breuse in front of Dalan, and the guy isn’t getting any less injured— and yet Dalan hates Dinadan so much and holds him so accountable for the same wrongdoing Dinadan himself hates that he challenges him anyway, in spite of being injured, in spite of Dinadan having defeated in a joust someone who had been strong enough to defeat Dalan in the first place. And avenging a wrongful death, as an act, isn’t inherently censured in Malory— Dinadan’s brother does so offscreen, but it’s acknowledged as a noble thing that he succeeds in his quest to avenge his father’s murder. If you challenge someone honestly, even being incorrect about your accusations towards them doesn’t make it dishonorable of you (that’s how half of these idiots make friends, after all). So whether or not he’s wrong in blaming Dinadan for it, he is HARDLY implied to be a murderer— which means that right in between ‘Only people who get called murderers hate Dinadan’ and ‘Agravaine and Mordred DO murder Dinadan later btw’— there’s a brief exchange that establishes that what the narration has presented as a fact— only people who are called murderers hate Dinadan— is NOT TRUE. Dalan hates Dinadan, and isn’t a murderer— in fact, he may think Dinadan is one. What’s been said about Agravaine and Mordred isn’t true— even if it becomes so, it didn’t have to. What does that mean for the rest of— well, the entire narrative? For one thing, we can to some degree tie this disproving back to the lead-in of Dinadan having this particular ‘custom’— it’s not an actual fact, it’s just something presented as fact, believed to be fact— something that affects the realities of a knight’s life and knighthood as if it were fact, even though it isn’t.

Whether or not you take it as authorial intention doesn’t really matter— Malory is SO interesting if you take your cue from this series of escalating sentence-by-sentence underminings (Dinadan won’t help a stranger but Agravaine & Mordred will— but they’re morally corrupt and he isn’t; Breuse is a renowned destroyer of good knights and was announcing his presence like a Pokémon— that’s the exact thing that Dinadan hates most which is the cause of his beef with Agravaine & Mordred, but he didn’t want to get involved in fighting the guy; everyone who hates Dinadan is a morally bad person— except this other guy who’s right here currently too). The narration is NOT objectively giving you the truth— the narration is giving you what is ACCEPTED AS TRUTH by the court, by society at large, what will be remembered, because a knight is only as good, only as strong, only as virtuous, only as accomplished, as the stories told of him— only guilty of the crimes people gossip on, but guilty of the ones believed, whether or not they’re true. The narrative is influenced by what is and isn’t known, by what’s hidden and revealed to the world. It makes for an incredibly fun and good reading of Malory throughout!

And there’s a lot of room to say, too, that it makes Agravaine and Dinadan insane narrative foils, because any which way you think to develop and expand on Agravaine’s motivations and desires in Malory, Dinadan is doing something similar to great affection, approval, and acclaim— where Agravaine receives disapproval, approbation, and… nothing else. Agravaine is “ever open-mouthed”, waiting “every night and day” to root out Lancelot’s secrets— when he succeeds, Arthur blames him after his death for what comes to pass, even though he was right and what he uncovered was true. It’s Dinadan’s “manner to be privy with all good knights”, so he reads Lancelot’s mail while he’s sleeping, and Lancelot is glad of it, and lets him help. Agravaine is manipulative, Dinadan has influence with his friends. Agravaine, who values his honor greatly, is dishonored for it as vengeful and jealous. Dinadan, who is careless of his own honor, never bruises it with anything he does. Agravaine is considered resentful and ungracious to others, Dinadan is a beloved jokester who harangues his friends with affectionate invective to cheer them up.ᵃ Dinadan is what Agravaine isn’t allowed to be— and yet he’s a version of it that Agravaine has no desire to be, someone who doesn’t fit in the knightly mold, who isn’t respected the way he wants to be respected, someone reliant on the aid and influence of friends, someone who laughs first at himself, at his own lack of honor. To be envied and yet also to be disdained, to Agravaine’s sensibilities, and to Dinadan’s there’s nothing that Agravaine would criticize he cares about.

And yet— they were friends, too. And what ruined that friendship may well have been the same desire that killed Agravaine in the end— the desire to see that a position of privilege at court didn’t protect a knight who’d done wrong from the truth being known, or from facing the repercussions of his guilt and shame— only it was Dinadan who was repeating the gossip, Dinadan exposing the wrong, and Dinadan died for it, too, just as much as Agravaine would later. And in both their cases, their claims were never fully proven, except in the acts of their own deaths.

But can you IMAGINE the incredible amount of dirt they must’ve dug up between the two of them, before they both got killed by their shared streak of weird, stubborn justice, one by the other’s hand? Can you imagine how utterly fatally they’d be capable of roasting you into a charcoal brick by their powers combined? Can you imagine how terminally nasty they’d be if they were fighting, and how annoying they’d be if they weren’t and they got in your business? What an insane combination, what a silhouette of deeper characterization in the negative space that isn’t addressed!!ᵇ It has so many potential implications for the narrative overall and their significance in it as arbiters of social thought and public opinion.

¹ ² ³ ⁴ ⁵

1.“no good qualities except his beauty, his chivalry, and his quick tongue”, as the Vulgate describes Agravaine (quotes that made my wife say out loud, “what else is there?!”), plus that one translator’s note about the idiomatic and metaphorical way he speaks— Dinadan is constantly described that way— “Right so came Dinadan, and mocked and japed with King Bagdemagus that all knights laughed at him, for he was a fine japer, and well loving all good knights.” etc etc. he’s a fucking bard who wrote the hardest diss track of all time (see footnote 4). Also sends his gay friend group™️ (Lancelot, Galehault, Dinadan, and Guinevere) into hysterics with his potshots at Lancelot and Galehault at a tournament dinner. More on that later.

2. Agravaine is known for being extremely jealous, petty, a bad sport and a gossip, dishonorable and vengeable— Dinadan ONLY fights when he feels like it… '

“And at the first recounter, said Sir Kay, he smote me down from my horse and hurt me passing sore; and when my fellow, Sir Dinadan, saw me smitten down and hurt he would not revenge me, but fled from me; and thus he departed.” (He’s literally present while Kay is saying this like 🤷‍♂️ ya)

“So on the morn Sir Dinadan rode unto the court of King Arthur; and by the way as he rode he saw where stood an errant knight, and made him ready for to joust. Not so, said Dinadan, for I have no will to joust. With me shall ye joust, said the knight, or that ye pass this way. Whether ask ye jousts, by love or by hate? The knight answered: Wit ye well I ask it for love, and not for hate. It may well be so, said Sir Dinadan, but ye proffer me hard love when ye will joust with me with a sharp spear. But, fair knight, said Sir Dinadan, sith ye will joust with me, meet with me in the court of King Arthur, and there shall I joust with you. Well, said the knight, sith ye will not joust with me, I pray you tell me your name. Sir knight, said he, my name is Sir Dinadan. Ah, said the knight, full well know I you for a good knight and a gentle, and wit you well I love you heartily. Then shall there be no jousts, said Dinadan, betwixt us.” (I just fucking love this exchange. He really said ��is your challenge from love or from hate? Oh from LOVE? Wow okay well that’s some kinda love coming at me with a LANCE :(‘ like babygirl why are you a knight.)

Also openly refuses to fight or runs away from combat when traveling with Tristan, when traveling with Mark, when traveling alone (the chapter in question, at first) when traveling with Tristan again, etc, and never denies this

Hates when knights fight for women and thinks it’s stupid. “For such a foolish knight as ye are, said Sir Dinadan, I saw but late this day lying by a well, and he fared as he slept; and there he lay like a fool grinning, and would not speak, and his shield lay by him, and his horse stood by him; and well I wot he was a lover. Ah, fair sir, said Sir Tristram are ye not a lover? Mary, fie on that craft! said Sir Dinadan. That is evil said, said Sir Tristram, for a knight may never be of prowess but if he be a lover. It is well said, said Sir Dinadan; now tell me your name, sith ye be a lover, or else I shall do battle with you.” Tristan promptly tells Isolde about this later and she gives him endless shit for it.

His exchange with Isolde abt it is very funny. He’s a fruitcake. “Now I pray you, said La Beale Isoud, tell me will you fight for my love with three knights that do me great wrong? and insomuch as ye be a knight of King Arthur's I require you to do battle for me. Then Sir Dinadan said: I shall say you ye be as fair a lady as ever I saw any, and much fairer than is my lady Queen Guenever, but wit ye well at one word, I will not fight for you with three knights, Jesu defend me. Then Isoud laughed, and had good game at him.” Y’know that song in the Oliver Twist musical where they’re trying to teach Oliver the concept of chivalry? That never happened for Dinadan and now he’s like this.

Lies all the time for no reason? Presumably it’s for The Bit™️ most times bc he LOVES jokes and pranks. Tristan ropes him into lying to Palamedes uhh hang on let me count in my head. Four? At least four times.

Basically Dinadan took a knightly oath the way other people agree to Terms & Conditions. He knows this abt himself. (See footnote 5)

3. Okay we know about Agravaine but UH “And so privily she sent the letter unto Sir Launcelot. And when he wist the intent of the letter he was so wroth that he laid him down on his bed to sleep, whereof Sir Dinadan was ware, for it was his manner to be privy with all good knights. And as Sir Launcelot slept he stole the letter out of his hand, and read it word by word.” DINADAN WHAT THE HELL? Agravaine and Dinadan were out here bumping into each other surveilling Lancelot’s fuckjgn bedroom I GUESS no wonder Agravaine killed Dinadan later awkwarddd

4. Agravaine is “ever open-mouthed” repeating gossip and spreading rumors to put pressure on Lancelot and Guinevere at court before he resorts to telling his uncle; Dinadan is imho implied by this chapter to be part of the reason Agravaine’s reputation fully tanks (also a gossip) but there’s also the lay he writes to humiliate King Mark and teaches to people to perform throughout Cornwall to ruin him: “And when Dinadan understood all, he said: This is my counsel: set you right nought by these threats, for King Mark is so villainous, that by fair speech shall never man get of him. But ye shall see what I shall do; I will make a lay for him, and when it is made I shall make an harper to sing it afore him. So anon he went and made it, and taught it an harper that hight Eliot. And when he could it, he taught it to many harpers. And so by the will of Sir Launcelot, and of Arthur, the harpers went straight into Wales, and into Cornwall, to sing the lay that Sir Dinadan made by King Mark, the which was the worst lay that ever harper sang with harp or with any other instruments.” (“And when Sir Tristram heard it, he said: O Lord Jesu, that Dinadan can make wonderly well and ill, thereas it shall be.”So true man. What a track.)

Also Dinadan once manipulatively provokes, mocks, belittles, and sneers at Tristan to get him really angry, because he’s letting someone else win a tournament and running support, basically— so Dinadan takes it upon himself to talk incredibly mad shit at him until he gets angry enough to stop being helpful and start fighting properly.

5. This is the chapter where we start to hear about the extent of Agravaine’s censure for his perceived dishonorable traits. As for Dinadan:

“and all the court was glad of Sir Dinadan, for he was gentle, wise, and courteous, and a good knight.”

“Sir, said Dinadan, wherefore be ye angry? discover your heart to me: forsooth ye wot well I owe you good will, howbeit I am a poor knight and a servitor unto you and to all good knights. For though I be not of worship myself I love all those that be of worship. It is truth, said Sir Launcelot, ye are a trusty knight, and for great trust I will shew you my counsel.” <— also this is when Lancelot just woke up from his angry nap and Dinadan is just. There. Having read his private secret letter from the Queen. But it’s fine for some reason I fucking guess!! Idk!! Starfucker extraordinaire Sir “Personal Key to Lancelot’s Bedroom” “Doesn’t Fight His Own Battles But His Friends Will For Him <3” Dinadan like. Agravaine experiencing heretofore unknown levels of gay homophobia. And he’s right.

a. Even adaptations love to make Agravaine Experience Homophobia™️ but rarely Dinadan, who habitually “lies with”, and “makes great joy of” in their beds overnight, his personal ranking of the top three strongest knights of the Round Table at any given time (“at any given time” meaning that he promptly does that to Palamedes as he takes spot #3 when Lamorak kicks it— presumably the secret reason he dies on the Grail Quest is bc he needs to get dick on the reg from the strongest knights in the world to survive and Galahad categorically does not fuck. RIP to a legend), loudly disdains romantic relationships with women, and is pranked on the page by Galehault and Lancelot for being unmanly or effete and afraid of women— by being knocked off his horse on the tourney field by Lancelot in a dress, carried off into the woods, stripped to his underoos, tussled into a dress himself, and paraded through the tourney field and then the hall at dinner in it (Always Sunny title card Lancelot Commits a Hate Crime. Wildass anecdote. Bet a night out on the town with Tom Malory was a HOOT. Guinevere canonically laughs so hard at this she falls over.)

b. Anyway this is why they’re an insane and compelling ship also. I rest my case. This is actually also the introductory post to a piece of fanfiction I’ll put somewhere later in which I used a shortened ballade form taking inspiration and structure from The Flyting of Dunbar and Kennedie to write Agravaine and Dinadan having a flyting competition. Y’know, real normal shit.

[omorithedreamermod]

FEBRUARY DEVLOG - 1

The third DEVLOG has arrived...this time spelled correctly! Lots of progress has been made since the last update!

IMPORTANT INFORMATION:

So, about saves! I don't know if people noticed the edited DEVLOG from last time, but...it seems that you WILL be able to use your demo saves for the prelude! Testing looks good so far, so hoping it stays this way. Thank goodness, because now all those watermelons you collected in HEADSPACE won't be for nothing! Why is that...? Well! Hehe...

PROGRESS:

Remember how last time I said majority of maps were completed? That was incorrect. NOW the majority are done and only a couple are left. I've made so many maps this week. Thumbs up (fades into dust)

NPCs got cooked up. Basically all are complete, unless a couple more are needed, but for now, basically a done task. Some character sprite art needs to be made still, but not a lot!

All battle art is complete, including enemies, and portraits. They have also been programmed in, so they are fully functional, and battles are a done task! Wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be, thankfully! Battlebacks still need to be made, but those are relatively quick.

OST...I said last time it was near complete. I was wrong. NOW it's near complete. At the moment, there are currently 44 tracks for the full dreamer prelude (including the demo tracks!). There's still a couple more to be made, but definitely mostly done ^^ It's going to be a LONG compilation video!

Writing was on the back-burner while I was focusing on creating assets. That doesn't mean there wasn't progress! Still, from this point on, writing and programming will be a main focus now that majority of assets are complete.

Portraits are not all complete. SUNNY needs more hospital portraits, and BASIL also needs new real world portraits! Those will take a bit...

Currently, all the mirror locations still need to be done, which means completing the battle-backs first. There is also a new title screen art that needs to be done. Along with that...a major, drawn cutscene, and another rougher cutscene...and maybe another short one, as well as art for the credits. A lot of art to do...

NOTES:

March is looking bright! Very bright! One part of the panic now comes from hoping I can program and write everything in a speedy manner, including NPC dialogue and miscellaneous stuff. Once again, a ton of the content is optional. But, like the DEMO, you are rewarded for you investment ^^ There's also a lot of secrets, so, good luck! Badges will be even more fun this time around!

Everyone really stepped up with the NPCs and I am very thankful for the sprite teams help! The OST is also coming along so well thanks to everyone. I've also appreciated the people who have taken the time to answer questions about programming and such that I have!

Still, the biggest point of stress is that I'm doing all the art, and I don't know how quickly I can do these cutscenes. One of them is very important to look clean and beautiful, and I have to do my best to stay very on style, which isn't as easy in cutscenes as it is with portraits. Along with that, real world portraits take longer than, say, STRANGER, who is monochrome. DREAMER was pretty time consuming, but I'm not as solid on real world portrait style yet. I'll figure it out, hopefully...

I'm also concerned once again about the trailer, and making art ahead of time for it for future events. I think it'll be okay, though? I usually pull through! And if need be, I can simplify the trailer a little.

CONCLUSION:

Currently, (along with completing the remaining assets) the goal is for me to complete all the writing/programming to start playtesting before March 1st, which means the PRELUDE will be completed and playable before March. This will NOT include the final art, such as cutscenes, and trailer art that aren't required for progression. So, while playtesting is happening, I will hopefully step back and really get all that art done so the mid-March release is possible!

There's still so much to do, but so much has been done, and I'm very proud of how things are going-to the point I even find the DEMO very lacking compared to the full PRELUDE! Please look forward to the coming release, and the next DEVLOG!

[biolumien]

HELLO!! i dont normally send requests (up to a year in tumblr, i have only sent.. 2. including this one.) but i was wondering if you write platonic stuff? :') im deadly inlove with your works, never fails to disappoint huhuu and i adore them, and if you do, do you mind writing a hoshina x younger sibling reader? maybe they have a bad relationship with him and tries to make it up by joining the third division so that they could get closer, but he's just giving the cold shoulder and ignoring them. in the end the reader gets injured - hopefully this isn't too detailed!! i was also wondering if you take anons.. if you do - could i be 🐾 anon? mentioning this again but i seriously do love your works they're all so well written 🥹

notes: aaaa?!?!? im really honored that you decided to request something from me;; fun fact im actually an only child (lol) so i hope this is something you were looking for!! (i am still a bit sick >_<...

siblings, siblings...

soshiro hoshina & sibling!reader general description of injury and blood on your end. word count: 899

you and soshiro were never really close. as the youngest of the hoshina family and with the best unleashed combat power in guns, you were often lauded as the family’s best chance in the defense force—which put you at odds with soshiro’s utter lack of combat power in the firearms department. you’d tried to reach out—to talk, to do anything—but soichiro and soshiro never had time for you. 

or well, it seemed as if soshiro considered you his number one enemy. the antithesis of his existence—that by the fact you existed, it seemed as if he would be utterly worthless after all. 

when you transferred to the third division, you received no acknowledgement from soichiro or soshiro. 

“i trust you will lay your life down for the cause as effectively as you have in other divisions,” mina said to you on the day you were sworn in, your brother at her side. 

he didn’t look at you. 

“you have quite the impressive resume,” mina had said. “second and first division positions. an easy shoo-in for division leader right after gen narumi. what made you decide to enter the third division?” 

you’d swallowed, watching soshiro very pointedly not looking at you. 

“i… no reasons, in particular,” you’d lied. “just… um… curious in expanding my options. is all.” 

soshiro’s eyes had been cold. 

it was clear where the two of you stood, and soshiro wanted nothing to do with you, even if you’d basically demoted yourself from a cushy spot in the first division for it. the two of you rarely spoke—and if he ever acknowledged you at all, it was with one word responses or an affirmative, very stiff nod, as if it killed him utterly and completely to acknowledge you. 

were the two of you sweet once? had you run around the hoshina estate giggling once? had that been you?

…

would it ever be you again, even if it had? 

(you remember the taste of konpeito that soshiro would sneak you from soichiro’s collection of sweets, and he would raise a finger to his lips, telling you it was a secret.)

(but then why did you remember the feeling of asphalt against your feet on the days where soshiro seemed to forget to train as he dragged you towards the grass to play chase?)

(then why did you remember the times where you’d have a bad nightmare, but never felt brave enough to go to soichiro, so you’d always gone to soshiro instead? he’d laughed, cocky and brilliant even late at night and told you not to worry because he’d cut up your bad dreams. and you believed him, because he was your big brother and he’d never been wrong, never been cruel the way soichiro was to you and soshiro.)

why did you have to remember all of that?

you cough out a mouthful of blood. 

of course you only remember all of that right now as you bleed out. 

your eyes feel heavy.

what had the attack been, again? a yoju? a honju? you could’ve taken it down on your own, right? did it matter? your gun didn’t do anything—it couldn’t, laying uselessly on the ground next to you as you felt another choking mouthful of blood cloying against your lips. 

you want to scream. 

what was the point, you wanted to ask. what was the point of transferring if your brother wouldn’t acknowledge you—even though all you wanted to do was speak to him again? 

“don’t close your eyes.”

thank god you still have enough energy for your eyes to fly open, staring up at soshiro, who leaned down to haul you to your feet—but really he was putting most of your weight on him, your feet barely scraping the floor. 

“soshiro,” you rasp. “why?” 

“that’s what i should be asking you,” soshiro’s voice was still cold. distant, as he began walking you back towards the other troops—carefully, so as to not upset your wounds. “why did you transfer out of the first division? from what i heard, you were making quite the name for yourself out there. needed to steal my spotlight that badly?” 

“that’s not it,” you snap, wincing in pain. “i just wanted my brother back. is that so much to ask for? i figure it is, because you just randomly stopped talking to me for no goddamn reason!” 

you feel soshiro freeze up. 

“you wouldn’t get it.”

he sounds resentful. 

“fuck no i wouldn’t!” you say. “i don’t know what’s going on because you won’t tell me! but the only thing i do know is that i want to be able to talk to at least one of my big brothers that doesn’t treat me like shit! because as it stands right now, both of you do!” 

you gasp out in pain, coughing up another mouthful of blood. 

soshiro’s body is still tense, his hand tightening where it’s wrapped around your arm. 

“i’m—” soshiro mutters. “sorry. i—i just.” he laughs. “i’m a sorry excuse for an older brother, huh?” 

“you are,” you retort, and soshiro laughs again, and he sounds almost like he did when the two of you were younger. 

“let’s go home,” soshiro says after a moment, his voice less resentful now. 

you feel almost like a kid again in that moment, leaning on soshiro after you’d fallen during tag, having scraped your knee. 

“okay,” you wheeze out. “okay.” 

[bebebelll]

does anyone know her dad? daniel ricciardo smau (part 2)

pairing: daniel ricciardo x toto's secret daugther!reader / daniel ricciardo x schumacher & wolff!reader warning: mention of slutshaming note: part one here, part three here, part four here

ynquads never drinking or letting 20+ men into my 2-bedroom place ever again. also yes danny slept on the floor but brought great wine.

liked by susie_wolff, danielricciardo, mercedesamgf1 and 1 834 273 others

maxverstappen1 who threw up in the hallway? because someone threw up on seven pairs of shoes

alex_albon lando. i saw him drunk dancing out there too landonorris OKAY

username ARE YOU NOT EVEN GOING TO ACKNOWLEDGE THE TOTO WOLFF THING

username they are absolutely fucking username the fuck are your sources bro?

georgerussell63 i would like to apologize for the vase that i broke

logansargeant i will add the sorry for chipping the countertop lewishamilton i took the dog toys for roscoe and i'm not sorry fernandoalo_official i didnt do anything but i would like the recipe for the soup

danielricciardo why would you post just that pic?? i found you sleeping on the kitchen floor in the morning you were not doing any better

ynquads lando stole the sofa, alex slept in the armchair, charles and max were passed out in the tub AND pierre, carlos and yuki were in the bed. i did not have other options at 5 am danielricciardo you shouldve come next to me. we could have cuddled ynquads baby i am literally in your arms right now danielricciardo and i want you with me all the time

username if austin has the whole grid + like four of the old guys get passed out drunk in one small apartment, i cannot wait to see what las vegas does to these men

danielricciardo love you and also am so scared of your dad. we won't need his permission to marry someday right?

tagged: ynquads

liked by ynquads, maxverstappen1 and 593 837 others

username i love the dichotomy of the pajama pics and the hot evening wear

ynquads get you a man who can do both

landonorris like how you're both ignoring sky news and twitter burning down with the rumours

ynquads so...you know how the world of motorsports is super small? you grow up with half the formula 1 grid and idolise the other half. sometimes you grow up being mortal enemies and you both get into f1. sometimes you win the title because your teammate dies. sometimes a 27-years-old toto wolff hooks up with michael schumacher's sister katarina. anyway! Lass uns diese Woche zum Essen gehen, Papa! Viel Glück für Onkel Lewis und George! (let's go out to dinner this week, dad! best of luck to uncle lewis and george!)

liked by danielricciardo, mercedesamgf1 and 1 837 364 others

susie_wolff your dad appreciates the first photo a lot! he didn't love the third though

mercedesamgf1 we'll always have a spot and cup of coffee just for you! no need to go to red bull, come home to us ❤️💪(also admin has known this since 2017 and could barely keep their mouth shut so thank you now i can comment)

ynquads mercedes admin really is gods strongest soldier danielricciardo please dont let mercedes just steal you. i need my good luck love charm and kisses ynquads dont worry dan we can romeo & juliet the shit out the red bull v mercedes feud susie_wolff your dad says NO and also do you want to eat salmon on tuesday?

username I FUCKING KNEW IT I CALLED IT I AM THE CONSPIRARY THEORY MASTER I AM GOD

redbullracing sweetheart you don't need to agree to anything. we have red bulls and cake in the hospitality 😅 please stay with us

ynquads what kind of daughter do you think i am? redbullracing we have daniel ynquads you know max and daniel have always been my favourites i could never leave red bull

username yn is 50% schumacher + 50% wolff and daniel 8 wins. imagine the kids they'll get

maxverstappen1 the kid's godfather is also going to have 3 championships danielricciardo 👍

@eternalharry

[mikufigureoftheday]

got my first miku today!!! i set her up with a friend :D

is he protecting her, or is she protecting him? we may never know.....

Or a secret third option......they have teamed up to create the ultimate card dueling musical group ever seen and feared by man w(°ｏ°)w

Why be enemy when can be friend?(´ ∀ ` *)

Very cute Miku too!! Thank you for sharing her with us

[bucketspammer4life]

what i think your favorite PO boxer says about you

based on my biases and a year of experience (if you get mad over how i talked about your fave im going to turn you into a can of spam)

first time ive ever maxed out the tags

if i missed your fav tell me ‼️

doc louis - you have good taste and are starving for content about him, you really are a survivor

little mac - you either project onto him or just like calling him your son

glass joe - you have a thing for pathetic men (understandable tbh) and like calling him a wet cat since he fits that desc well

von kaiser - same thing as joe but add a hint of "oh no hes hot"

disco kid - you literally have no enemies i love you so much its not even funny (platonic)

king hippo - my god you are good at making up lore, how the fuck do you make a solid personality for a character that only roars and grunts

piston hondo - im 100% youre a saint, no hondo fan i met has ever been unpleasant to talk with

bear hugger - you either see him as a father figure or just think hes hot or (secret third option) you like making jokes about him being a disney princess, either way youre cool

great tiger - oh you have been here for a long time, literally every great tiger fan i know has been in the fandom since 7.000 BC or something, also youre prob really good at art

don flamenco - you use the word "cunty" on a daily basis or just like making fun of his stupid bald head, also yes he has eyeliner on 100%

aran ryan - you'd overthrow a goverment for this greasy rat, youre extremely extremely gay and/or neurodivergent and thats very good for you, you also like making him say lad and have had to go ankle deep in irish slang when making him speak in fanfics

soda popinski - ive never seen someone have soda as their fav, hes always 2nd place somehow so im just gonna go take a shot in the dark and say you like the color pink (mental gymnastics who??)

bald bull - you are a mixed bag, i gen cant put a finger on what kind of personality bull stans have but i can say you either find him hot or like making fun of him, maybe both

super macho man - least serious people ever with some traumatizing lore for the boxers & their own ocs, you prob make him say bogus 88268292 times in a sentence and i can respect that

mr sandman - ive only seen 2 (two ) ppl who have him as their fav and its kinda sad, youre starving for content of him and i wish you the best

birdie mac - hes your son (im not elaborating)

gabby jay - same thing as joe but you went over the top with liking dilfs

narcis prince - gay. gay gay homosexual gay. you went for the self obsessed blonde twink and you thought it wasnt obvious?? you fucking homosexual

heike kagero - youre 1000% queer, sorry to be a broken record about the gay thing but ur fav is literally a man with long hair & makeup that has to be some flavor of queer

hoy quarlow - you are/were another ancient punch out fan, you def shitpost a lot

bruiser bros - where are you??? ive gen never met a bruiser bros fan and its concerning like dude where did u go

texas mac - im sorry but you dont exist, ive never ever seen a texas mac fan, not even someone who mentions him

mad clown - you foul clownfucker. you have weird taste in characters you find hot and tbh im all here for it

masked muscle - same thing as texas mac but theres a slight chance you exist, if you do please show yourself

dragon chan - another punch out ancient fan, you probably were most active in 2013-2019 and kinda miss old shitposts and have either moved on or dont participate much anymore

spo aran - (this is mostly for Charlie but i have hope that theres some other spo aran fans out there) youre probably looking for other spo aran fans, goodpeed soldier, goodpeed

mask x - you arent getting away with this fuck you

[redravenblogs]

☆ ★ Alastor Shipping Alignment Chart ★ ☆

Descriptions under the cut.

Wholesome alignments:

No one ♥ Sensible-Wholesome ♥ Ace Alastor. Affirming and objectively correct. It's canon, and you're sticking to it.

Charlastor ♥ Neutral-Wholesome ♥ Yin and yang, and maybe redemption. You want something that's good for both of them.

RadioDust ♥ Horny-Wholesome ♥ They're both fucked up in different ways, but maybe they can get less fucked up together. (With lots of fucking.)

Neutral alignments:

RadioRose ♥ Sensible-Neutral ♥ Friends-to lovers whose vintage aesthetic is a key component of their relationship. You know the type.

Selfship/OC Pairing ♥ True neutral ♥ Obviously. Does this need further explanation? This is the bingo free space.

RadioApple ♥ Horny-Neutral ♥ Why have conflict when you could have sexual tension instead? More "rivals-to-lovers" than "enemies-to-lovers," since they're technically on the same side (for now). But who's "Daddy?"

Fucked Up Alignments:

RadioHusk ♥ Sensible-Fucked Up ♥ They do have that whole soul-deal thing going on. Is it a kink? Is there resolution and forgiveness for it? Stockholm syndrome? DD:DNE? So many flavors to choose from. All of them angsty.

AlMimzy ♥ Neutral-Fucked Up ♥ Does Alastor finally reciprocate her unrequited crush? And who's the bad influence on whom?

RadioStatic ♥ Horny-Fucked Up ♥ True enemies to lovers. Or just hate fucking. (Or the secret third option: Vox being obsessed and Alastor fucking with him because he likes to make Vox suffer from how badly he wants Alastor - my favorite.)

☆ ★ ☆

(Please take all this in good fun. No judgment for any of these ships. ♥)