#not directed at anyone i just have many thoughts

[maroonshirt81]

oooh for the carcar prompt maybe carlos can suddenly read minds?

Amazing request! Thank you! :D

carcar, 2,5k, rated m

_______________

It starts with a small electrocution.

There must be something wrong with the hotel room socket when Carlos goes to unplug his charging cable that morning. Maybe he just isn’t paying attention. There’s a fizzling sound, and then he jumps, quickly pulling back his fingers.

It’s not a huge shock. His hair isn’t standing on end, and his breathing is fine, but there’s a weird feeling afterward—like a colony of ants is living right underneath his skin. He shrugs it off, grabs his phone, checks his notifications, then goes to take a shower.

Everything is completely fine until he leaves his hotel room and runs into another guest in the elevator. It’s a young man whose eyes widen slightly when he looks at Carlos. He must be a ventriloquist or something because, without even opening his mouth, he says, “Holy shit! Is that Carlos Sainz?”

Carlos gives him an awkward wave, and the guy decides to go, “He’s smaller than I would have thought”, still without moving his lips. When the elevator stops, the guy gives him a tight smile, and walks out, leaving Carlos to wonder if he's just imagined this whole interaction. Clearly, there’s something wrong with that guy. Drugs, maybe? Or some sort of condition? Carlos hopes he doesn't run into him again.

He leaves the elevator, walking out into the hotel lobby. As usual, people’s heads turn in his direction, some eyes lighting up with recognition.

However. It turns out the elevator guy wasn’t weird at all.

It’s Carlos who’s weird.

****

So Carlos can hear people’s thoughts now.

It’s already fading. He’s sitting on the press conference couch alongside some other drivers, answering the same questions about the upcoming race as always. Concentrating is even harder than usual, with an onslaught of voices in his head now.

He hasn’t told anyone. He still isn’t quite sure if it’s real or if something is genuinely wrong with him. Besides, he can only hear thoughts that are directly about him, which hasn’t been all bad so far. Walking out into the lobby this morning, he was greeted with a cacophony of Damn, that’s Carlos Sainz! and He’s even more handsome than in the pictures. Over the course of the day, the voices have quieted a little. He can’t understand everyone’s thoughts anyway—most people in the paddock don’t think in English or Spanish, and when they do, it’s a weird mixture of English and their own language. And the ones he can understand mostly just have the same thoughts as the hotel guest in the elevator this morning.

Though, it’s quite nice for the ego to hear so many positive thoughts about himself. The worst thought he’s encountered so far was someone going, Oh, he has something green between his teeth. That’s not very sexy, after breakfast. And right now, someone is mentally giggling and thinking, Carlos is spacing out again.

He snaps back to reality, hoping no one has asked him a direct question. But no—on the other end of the couch, Lewis is talking, so it’s all fine. Carlos sits up straighter, runs his fingers through his hair.

And that’s when he hears it.

Huh. He’s kinda balding.

Carlos freezes, then quickly pulls back his fingers from his hair, eyes snapping up to stare into the gathered crowd of journalists.

Who the fuck? Carlos isn’t balding! There’s no way that thought just now was about him, right? He’s famous for his beautiful, thick hair!

But he can only hear thoughts that are about him, so someone here is clearly out of their mind. He scans every person in the room. The voice sounded familiar, but he can’t quite place it. None of the journalists seem to be looking at him, either. They’re all locked in on Lewis talking.

Carlos slowly sinks back into the couch again.

He probably misheard. The voices are already fading. There’s no way someone actually thought that about him. No way!

****

Half an hour later, he’s standing in front of a bathroom mirror, running his fingers through his hair and having a minor meltdown.

He is balding!

Nothing obvious yet, but when he looks closely, he can clearly see that his hair parts a little wider than before, the white of his scalp shining through more than it used to. His hair is still thick enough to cover it for now, but there’s no denying it. The decline has begun.

“Fuck!” he yells and bonks his thinning head of hair against the mirror.

Curse that damn voice that made him aware of this. He has a race to concentrate on and no time to think about how he would ever cover up a trip to Turkey. Maybe he should already start introducing the world to shorter hairstyles so it won’t come as such a shock. Maybe he should just own it?

There’s no time to think about it now. He has another media session in five minutes.

Hopefully, the annoying voice stays far away for the rest of the day.

****

It, of course, does not stay far away.

Carlos is in the middle of an interview when the strangely familiar voice is back, going, Damn, he looks like the interviewer just ran over his dog.

He stops mid-sentence, losing his train of thought. Unfortunately, there are a lot of people around since he’s in the media pen right outside the hospitality. Charles manages to pick up his abandoned sentence while Carlos scans the crowd for whoever keeps having these judgmental thoughts about him. Then he hears Charles talking to him in his head, as if he knows Carlos can hear it.

Carlos, help me out here, please!

So he turns back to the interviewers and smiles. Like he’s actually happy to be here.

****

The voice, apparently, follows him everywhere.

He’s on the fan stage, cracking a joke, when he notices the voice through a thousand other thoughts about him, all of which seem to be much farther away.

Someone should invent a drinking game where you have to take a shot every time he mentions smooth operator.

He’s entering his garage when the voice comes out of nowhere.

Red doesn’t look that good on him.

He’s in line for a pretzel when he hears it again.

Man, can’t escape Carlos today…

“I can’t escape you, stupid voice!” Carlos hisses under his breath. He looks around, but the paddock is bustling, and there’s no way to narrow it down to one single person.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spots a flash of bright orange.

Lando is on his way toward the McLaren hospitality. Carlos still hasn’t told anyone about the voices in his head. He still isn’t sure they’re entirely real.

Maybe he should put it to the test.

Giving up his place in the pretzel line, he scurries after Lando, managing to grab his arm and pull him into the narrow alley next to the hospitality just before he can go up the stairs.

He only realizes his mistake when "Lando" turns around to shoot him an offended look, and Carlos’s eyes land on the bunny teeth and round nose that belong to Oscar Piastri.

“Oh shit, I’m so—” Carlos starts to apologize, but he’s interrupted.

What the fuck is he doing? the voice wonders.

Carlos freezes for a moment, all the pieces falling into place to reveal the completed puzzle.

That goddamn judgmental voice was��

“You!” Carlos screeches, grabbing Oscar’s shoulders with both hands. He might be coming off as slightly deranged, which the voice immediately informs him of, but whatever— it might actually be true. Carlos feels like he’s been going crazy all day long, and Oscar fucking Piastri was the main reason, right after that malfunctioning socket.

“You have to be joking!” Carlos hears himself shout. “I’m balding? Your forehead looks like you could tattoo all the McLaren sponsor logos on it and still have space left! It looks like Sky Sports could broadcast the entire race on it!”

Wow. Cunt!

“When have I ever seen you smile in an interview?” Carlos rages on as Oscar just stares at him with wide eyes, the surprisingly colorful language inside his head never leaving his lips. “And when has a joke ever been more forcefully beaten to death than your collecting home races one?”

What the fuck is his problem anyway?

“What is your problem? I look amazing in red! Have you seen what you’re wearing?” Carlos continues, still shouting. Hopefully, the paddock is busy and loud enough to drown him out. Otherwise, this will make the news in five seconds flat.

Fuck, Oscar internally curses again. And then, during a small break in his rant to draw a breath, Carlos hears loud and clear, He’s kinda hot when he’s yelling.

The breath doesn’t leave his lips again. It gets stuck in his throat and turns into a cough—an embarrassing, choking one that turns his head crimson. Right now, he can admit, he probably doesn’t look that good in red.

Is he okay? Wait, do I care if he dies?

Carlos forcefully punches his own chest, forcing the cough to a stop. He must have misheard anyway. Oscar’s thoughts just now make that pretty clear.

“Alright?” Oscar asks when Carlos just glares at him through watery, red-rimmed eyes, waiting for another thought that will trigger his rage. Maybe that’s not the best way to go about this. Carlos still doesn’t know whether or not the voices inside his head are real.

“Would you even care if I died?” he asks, stupidly.

“Um…” Not really, go ahead. “Sure?”

Carlos wants to tear his hair out, but it’s already thinning, and he doesn’t want to give Oscar the satisfaction.

“I don’t believe you!”

Sherlock Sainz, I see…

“Are you dying?” Oscar asks out loud, still with that pointedly innocent look that doesn’t match the thoughts inside his head at all. If they’re even real.

“No.”

Pity.

“Are you having a stroke? Should I call someone?” Oscar asks, sounding genuinely concerned.

Carlos pauses, squints his eyes, and really thinks about it. Maybe he is having a stroke! It would certainly explain why Oscar’s thoughts and what he’s saying aren’t adding up at all.

Why the fuck are his lips so fucking kissable? That’s just unfair!

Carlos almost chokes again.

Okay, so he is definitely having a stroke.

“You want to kiss me?” he wonders out loud.

Oscar actually flushes red at that. He takes a step back and collides with the hospitality wall behind him.

The fuck? How does he know?

“The fuck? Why would you say that?” he says out loud.

Carlos squints again, stepping closer. He notices Oscar’s eyes flick down to his lips. Maybe he isn’t imagining things after all.

“So what, do you hate me, or do you want to kiss me?” he asks, frustrated.

Both.

“None!”

Well, this is futile. Apparently, Oscar is allergic to saying what he thinks. That leaves only one course of action. And if it’s the wrong one, Carlos can always claim he’s literally hearing voices that told him to do it. If he’s lucky, they’ll prescribe him a lobotomy afterward.

He casts a glance toward the paddock. Thanks to that step backward, they’re mostly hidden behind some weird metal crate now. Perfect.

He turns back to Oscar and kisses him on the lips.

Fuck! Can he read my mind or what?

Oscar readily opens his mouth and answers all the questions Carlos doesn’t dare ask.

Great! So Carlos actually can read minds. And he isn’t having a stroke, which is great news too. And he is—kissing Oscar Piastri in the middle of the paddock.

Tongue technique could use some work.

He’s kissing Oscar Piastri, who is having judgmental thoughts about his kissing technique!

Carlos cannot let this stand. He shoves Oscar back against the wall, tilts his head, licks inside his mouth, and that sure shuts him up.

Well, not literally, since his thoughts don’t need a mouth, but he’s going Fuck yes! inside his head now, so Carlos considers it a win.

Wish he’d grab my hair, Oscar thinks, and Carlos complies, listening to the colorful firework of curses going off in Oscar’s mind. Actually, this isn’t too bad. Carlos has never had such immediate and honest feedback on his kissing technique. He could use this. For strictly scientific reasons. Self-improvement stuff. That kind of thing.

He could. He could use it for self-improvement in even more interesting areas! Is it morally sound to have feedback sex if the other person doesn’t know about it?

Probably not…

He lightly tugs at Oscar’s hair, and that makes him mewl. No wonder the guy is going bald.

Can he lift me? No, wait. There’s no way, he’s not that—

Carlos reaches down to his thighs and lifts him up, pressing him even closer against the wall for leverage, and Oscar’s thoughts turn so filthy, Carlos might actually be blushing. He sure hopes Oscar can never read his mind in return because it’s embarrassing how much this turns him on. He’s never even thought about Oscar like that. Honestly, he’d believed Oscar was just some boring guy with a stick up his ass. Now he knows just how wrong he was.

He should fuck me like this.

Yep. Okay.

Carlos pulls back, breathing heavily, pressing his forehead against Oscar’s for just a moment before remembering that they are still in the middle of the paddock. Oscar has the same realization—they turn their heads toward the metal crate at the same time.

There’s no one there.

Their relieved breaths mingle, and Carlos lets Oscar slip back down to the ground, taking a step back to give him some space. They are quiet. With their words. Their thoughts are both going wild, but only Carlos knows about it.

Finally, Carlos asks, “Which hotel are you staying at?”

Oscar manages to keep his expression in check, but Carlos can hear every filthy detail he starts imagining upon the question.

“The Hilton.”

“Ah.” Carlos nods. Then says, “Be careful of the sockets. They are broken.”

And turns around. And walks away.

Well fuck, Oscar thinks. Guess he does look good in red.

Carlos gains a skip in his step and a grin on his face, though Oscar can only see the former.

Too bad the white pants are horrendous.

Carlos stops in his tracks. Turns back around. Fuck his morals. Oscar needs to be taught a lesson.

“What’s your room number?”

[moonydustx]

Hiiii!! I love your writing and was wondering if you’re still accepting requests? If so could I have one where reader is dressed in a similar outfit to Nami’s purple Zou outfit and there’s a big party happening and reader gets self conscious bc no ones talking to her during said party so she leaves to go back to her room that has a balcony and as she’s staring down at the party Law comes in to see why she left so she like tells him she feels ridiculous in her outfit and it turns out that Law was jealous that other people got to see her in such an outfit because he likes her so much that he was staring people down so no one would take her attention and he confesses how he feels under the stars on the balcony? and maybe there’s smut🤭🤭🤭 You can skip this request if you want!! I know i wrote a lot 😅

hello, anyone there?

Sorry for the delay in responding to your request and sort of answering your question, yes, I still accept requests, but I've been working kind of 10 hour days + responsibilities at home, which hasn't given me much time to write.

I made some small adjustments to your suggestion, I honestly hope you don't hate me.

•••

my reach

info: what sensations can a pirate life bring? After a victory, a celebration can mean many things.

warnings: text not proofread, will possibly have some errors as English isn't my first language. a kittle bit angst, F!reader have some insecurities, smut, doing in open skies, a little dirty talk.

For those who haven't reached Zou, this is the reference dress.

You didn't know what was echoing louder at that moment: the drunken voices, the singing or your thoughts. It was a party, you should have been happy or at least a little confident.

After so many fights and disputes, the alliance between the pirates had finally worked out and apparently you would finally have some time of peace. What didn't need many more reasons than this for Luffy, captain of one of the allied crews, to suggest a huge banquet, a party that would probably last for days and no one would question it. The good thing about having other crews together was that the reduced number of women - in the heart pirates it was the large number of two, you and Ikkaku - increased, even if not so radically, just enough to fill the fingers of one hand.

"You really didn't like it?" Nami turned you in front of a mirror, forcing you to look at yourself once more. "It suits you so much."

"I think it looks amazing." Robin added with a simple smile. "And it's a banquet between friends, there's nothing to worry about."

"I agree, but after being so stressed with so many events, I think we deserve a more dressed-up day." Nami added, adjusting one of the straps on your dress. "And also a little alcohol, a little flirting, seriously, being a pirate can't be just that and besides there are so many different people here."

"But don't you think it's a bit much?" Your voice wavered a little and you had to dodge the pillow Ikkaku threw in your direction.

"Don't listen to her. We've been underwater for so long and in our uniforms that I think she's lost her common sense."

"Don't talk nonsense." You shot back, laughing. "Okay, a little alcohol won't hurt." About the flirting part, you don't know how safe you would feel with that.

The main deck of the ship was something almost impossible to cross. Some people walked around each other, singing songs that were almost impossible to decipher, others toasted and competed over how many mugs they could down at once. You just went with the flow, keeping up with the others' hurried steps.

It wasn't long before a drink occupied your hand and you got lost in some almost frivolous conversations. The stress you had recently experienced seemed to prevent everyone from thinking about anything more serious and, to be honest, not even you wanted to get caught up in problems at that moment.

"Ladies." Sanji's voice came across the entire space, in his hand some appetizers and you tried hard to ignore the fact that he was almost drooling. "You are the most beautiful thing my eyes have ever seen, I would write poems about you..."

In a somewhat strange juggling act, you saw him try to balance the tray in one hand and, with the other, twist to alternate between your colleague's hands, placing a kiss on each of them. Except for you, to whom he just smiled in your direction and headed in the opposite direction. Even staring at the other women present, that seemed like a common situation so you allowed yourself to ignore it.

With an almost lame excuse, your feet took you to the other side of the ship, where you could see your captain's sullen face while being disturbed by other crewmates.

"A good victory." You raised your glass, toasting first to Shachi, then Penguin and finally Law, who seemed to be immersed in something inside his own mind.

"Look, I don't think we've ever seen you so..." Shachi couldn't finish speaking before getting elbowed by his crewmate.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Law asked as soon as the two left with some excuse that you didn't try to understand what it was about.

"Yes, as much as possible."

You even thought about commenting on how you had become an outcast, even though in the hours before you had been trying hard to achieve the exact opposite result. However, for a flash, you were sure that Law was analyzing you. From top to bottom, inch by inch.

"Is there a problem, Captain?" A smile filled your lips as you saw him startled as he was pulled out of his own mind.

"Dresses. You don't usually wear them." He seemed lost in his own words. "It looks..."

Beautiful? Interesting? God, the milliseconds of waiting before Law finished speaking seemed like a small infinity of possibilities in your mind. A place where he had a certain captive vacancy, but he wouldn't even dream of it.

"It looks different." He pointed out and you could only nod.

Different. Okay, it's not the worst answer but it's far from a good one. The relationship between the captain and the subordinate of the two of you was intrinsically... different. Strangely comfortable, uncomfortably distant. He would always prefer to discuss some decisions with you and to the jealousy filled with tantrums and laughter of some, he would insist that you were the best cook of the crew. On your side, you loved ask him for tips, from books to medicines, and whenever possible, you would insist on having him stitch you up after some battles. You hated scars and he was the only one who could prevent them. It was a different relationship, he occupied a somewhat different place in you, but that didn't need to be exposed.

Apparently, if the efforts to look even minimally pretty that night didn't affect him, it wouldn't make any difference anymore. With an almost invisible smile on your lips, you just nodded and left him there. You started talking to some, laughed with others, but it didn't seem to work. From the idea of ​​alcohol and flirting, apparently only the first part was working. Heavens, Brook hadn't even asked about the color of your panties.

Luckily, keeping the ships close to each other meant that it wasn't difficult for you to reach the empty deck of the Polar Tang. The sound of the party was getting a little more distant. The full moon illuminated the entire night and, in addition to reflecting on the sea, created an almost distorted shadow of your body. Was that what you were then? You let your hand run over your dress, analyzing every stitch. Nothing was out of place, nothing seemed wrong with the outfit. The problem must be you.

"I would invest a good amount of berries for your thoughts." Law's voice startled you, which made him laugh. "Did you need some time to breathe?"

"Yeah, I guess so." You leaned against the edge of the deck, drowning in your own frustrations.

"I still have some berries to invest." He tried to lighten the mood, leaning against your side. "I know my crew too well. What happened?"

"It's just... is that all there is to a pirate's life?" You turned around, frustrated. "Tonight I wanted to feel something different from all the stress we have. Something more interesting than the smell of gunpowder, than the sting of a blade."

"I think there's enough booze there for you to feel much more than that."

"It's not that, Law. Geez, I dressed in a way I've never dressed before. Makeup, heels, perfume and still, I'm an outcast." you said frustrated and saw a smirk escape his lips. "Man, this isn't funny. I mean, not even Brook cared about my panties?"

"About that..." he began, his fingers adjusting his hat that wasn't out of place, just like a nervous tic. "Maybe someone threatened to throw him into the sea before he could even speak."

"What do you mean?"

"And maybe I told Sanji that if he got close to you his balls would sink to the bottom of the sea too. And maybe I said something similar to Killer, but he's more rational so he didn't need that much of a threat. And I definitely punched Kid."

"You punched Kid?"

"He said some really disgusting things." Law spoke with a frighteningly ordinary naturalness.

However, for you none of that was ordinary. You just stood there, still, watching the little confessions that came out of Law's lips. So he had pushed you away from everyone? That wouldn't make any sense. Unless...

"Apparently I was brave enough to do all that, but I've been a coward in hiding what I feel. You don't look any different, you look beautiful and I can guarantee that I wasn't the only one who thought that."

"You just made sure I didn't know that, right?"

"Sorry." he commented still in a frustrated tone, but taking a few steps enough to stop in front of you. "I like you, I really do. It got to a point where I found myself reading more books just to know what to recommend to you, I found myself hating being a doctor because I have to stitch you up every time you get into a fight at the same time I wouldn't let anyone touch you for that." He sighed deeply. The short distance between the two of you made your fingers itch to hug him. "What you said makes sense, we're pirates, we shouldn't only feel war inside us."

"What else can we feel then?"

Your lips touched before his hands even reached your waist. It was hard to know what had given you goosebumps more: the cold wind against your bare skin, the way your body was leaning against the edge of the deck, making you imminent of falling, or the way he had advanced on you. Definitely the third option.

His tongue began to invade your space, tracing delicious routes through your mouth, a fight for space that you had no interest in winning. His hands traced your curves until they rested on your waist. Whoever invented the theory that two bodies occupied the same place would probably be a good spectator for the way the two of you snuggled together.

Law seemed to have no shortage of air since, when he gave you space to breathe, his lips simply slid to the hollow of your neck. Wet kisses mixed with small grunts that would be marked on your skin, drawn like a map just for him, just for Law.

His eyes met yours as his kisses continued towards the neckline of your dress. A loud request - but still silent - to explore you beyond where his lips could reach at that moment.

"We could go somewhere else." You suggested breathlessly and saw him bury his face in your breasts, sighing deeply. "I really don't plan on being naked here."

"Naked? Nah." Without even hesitating, he supported you on the edge of the deck, preventing you from falling towards the sea by slipping into the gap between your legs. "I've been looking at you in that dress for too long to want to see you without it now."

"You've been looking?"

"Tell me, wasn't that exactly why you put it on?" An involuntary sigh escaped your lips when one of his hands slid down the inside of your thigh. "You drive me insane normally, but this... do you want to know what I thought?"

The question was rhetorical since beyond the moonlight, lust illuminated the eyes of the man tied to you. A moan escaped your lips as his fingers trailed over the damp fabric between your legs.

"Shh, we need to be discreet, okay? Can you be a good girl and stay quiet?" His fingers intensified the pressure, small circles under the damp fabric sending your mind into a spiral. "I promise to take you inside, let you make all the noise you want. And then I'll leave you naked, have all my time just for you."

"What if I want to stay here?" The question sounded like a challenge and you could have sworn that behind the fabric of his pants something had pulsed. "You still haven't told me what you thought, about the dress."

"What I thought..." he gently pulled you down from the support and turned you back to him. Your body automatically leaned forward, seeking contact. "The first idea that came to mind was you like this, on my table. All beautiful ready for me."

His hands adjusted the fabric of your dress so that it was to the side. His nimble fingers traced an indecipherable pattern on the skin of your ass, outlining the thin fabric of your panties.

"May I..." He asked, still circling the piece and saw you nod. With a delicacy unfamiliar to you, you felt him pull the fabric aside.

"Fuck." The word came out of his lips involuntarily. The sight made him hungrier than any dish he had seen at the banquet.

"What else did you think?" You asked, hearing the sound of his zipper.

"You're smart, I believe you know very well what I thought."

Silent kisses ran down your exposed back. The cold night breeze made contact with your damp skin, causing shivers. The first touch of his cock against your pussy elicited a shy moan from you as his teeth scraped your skin, whispering a shh once more, even though thrusting inside you had forced him to press his face against the back of your neck. The almost inaudible sounds that escaped your lips were enough for Law to almost explode right there.

He should have stopped being a coward before. It was only the first time and he didn't know how he could consider staying without feeling you.

"I'm sorry." He said, moving slowly. "You deserved better than the deck of a submarine."

"We're under the stars. Do you want something even better?" You said breathlessly, stretching your hand to reach his dark strands of hair. Law practically put his head under your hand, sinking into your neck. "Law!"

"I told you princess, no noise." He thrust harder, watching you press your lips together and hold back another moan. "Such a good girl, my good girl."

"A p-princess, huh?"

"My princess, yes. All dressed up like that I couldn't think of anything better." You barely understood how he could form a coherent thought while he was thrusting torturously and deliciously inside you. "I could call it an angel too. The way this beautiful pussy is squeezing me is definitely divine." His laugh at your moan sounded almost devilish, however.

The thrusts began to intensify and you pulled his hand that was holding your torso to cover your mouth, vainly containing the moans that escaped. You could already be clawing at the stars when you felt him pulling out of you. An almost drastic fall from the sky you were in.

"I want to look at you, beautiful thing." He turned you around to face him, lifting you up again. "I want to see that beautiful face when you cum."

"Then come back here now." You locked your legs around him, feeling his delicious invasion of you.

His lips once again took yours, just as voracious - if not even more so - than the first time. His coming and going grew louder and louder as he felt your voice vibrate against his. Moans being censored by each other.

"Hold on to me." He pulled away just enough to ask and you readily complied.

The abyss was getting closer and closer, the knot in your belly getting tighter and tighter. You stuck your body to his at first for fear of falling, but each time it became even more of a need to merge. Your screams hid in the small gap between the two of you, your skin would surely be sore at the slightest since his teeth dug in there as he filled you with his seed.

"I think..." he supported you back, still holding your waist with one hand. With the other, he lifted the shirt he was wearing. Both your eyes and his were guided to where your bodies joined. "We made a bit of a mess."

"A bit?" Your finger caught some of your mixed cum, bringing it to your own lips. "Delicious mess."

"Keep it up and you won't be coming back to the party." A light laugh escaped him as he heard you grunt as he pulled out of you. "On second thought, we don't need to go back."

"Law, you're the captain of one of the crews that was more than essential to the conquest."

"Well, that's a good idea." He said as he adjusted his own clothes and then repeated the gesture with yours. "Some clueless people will be able to know that you are out of their reach."

"Am I?"

"If your captain says so, I believe you should agree." He pointed out.

Your hands comforted his cheeks, smoothing every inch you could touch. A calm, almost chaste kiss escaped you. Anyone who saw from afar would imagine it was just a simple kiss and would not even be able to consider what you were doing a short time ago.

"I - I mean, I really want to keep you out of their reach. Only within my reach." That was it, in so much time as captain and subordinate, you had never seen Law look so nervous.

"Sounds like a good plan to me, captain. However, I hope it is reciprocal." He nodded, stealing another kiss from you.

Going back to the party seemed different. As soon as Law led you back to the ship, you let go of each other's hands, a small agreement of secrecy silently negotiated between you. However, you could feel him in you, in unconventional - and delicious - ways. Occasionally, you could feel his gaze burning in your direction, with distant care.

"Can I talk to you?" Zoro's voice startled you before you even noticed his hand on your waist. "Would you like to have a drink somewhere more private?"

"I'm drinking..." You pointed to the mug in your hand, but it took you a few seconds to fully understand what he was saying. "Oh, no. I mean, thank you, but no. I'm accompanied."

"Accompanied? So your captain finally stopped being a wimp?" Zoro saw and glanced sideways, not surprised to see that whatever Robin was talking to Law about seemed like a distant subject. "Nami asked me to do this, to see if he would do something."

"Hey, swordsman." You could hear the irritation in Law's voice from afar and it was clear how unhappy he was at that moment. "Is there a problem with her?"

"No, Captain, everything's fine here." You smiled in his direction and waved at Zoro, who just ignored what Law had said and left.

"So..." You started, trying to give your best mischievous smile. Which was much easier after remembering everything. "My drink is gone and I think I'm tired. I'm thinking about going back to Polar Tang."

"Sure, I can accompany you." Law said in false modesty.

You could count on your fingers how many steps you took towards a more empty place before the starry night turned into a room you didn't usually visit. Your body soon found his bed, your dress turned into a pile of fabric on the floor. His kisses finally freed to explore every inch of your nudity.

"I think I need to make it even clearer that you're out of their reach."

[bluephoenixprincess]

Last part of this post before i probably make a whole new post to detail the Spicynoodles courting tournament fic i plan to write (if people are interested in hearing that and not just seeing it when i write it)

Whatever Scenario we go with, Mac is going through a rollercoaster of emotions when he learns about all the Courting Tournaments Wukong has been subjected to.

On the one hand his heart is Warmed as he reads between the lines and figures out, at least a little bit, just how commited Wukong was to not taking another Mate after him. (Tho he could also take it in the angsty direction of him feeling like he ruined Wukongs concept of romance and mates so badly the Monkey king couldnt bare the thought of opening himself up to anyone else romantically. Cause he is an angsty Emo monkey)

On the other he's internally raging at the realization of just How many Demons and Celestials dared to treat Wukong as a Prize to be won. And he's not just pissed cause of feeling possesive over his mate, his old instincts as Wukongs Warrior have been popping up more and hears about how much disrespect his King has endured in his absence has him seething.

Macaque also gains a fair bit of grudging respect for The Pilgrims when he learns of the lengths they went to to protect Wukongs heart and Honor.

How Zhu Bajie, despite is usually prickly Attitude toward Wukong, was the most steadfast in getting Suitors to back off whenever they tried to overstep the boundries set by the tournament, and took pride in parading any disqualified rule breakers who tried to breach the Monkey kings rooms.

How Sha Wujings used his Terrifying strength and quiet intimidation to send suitors running by the dozen. Often acting as the main guard for Wukong when he wanted some time alone.

How Ao Lies usual clumsy demeanor fell away to reveal a well of protective fury that became burned into history, unafraid to put his true form between Wukong and those who coveted him.

Even Tripitaka, tho unable to fight on Wukongs behalf, always remained by his Desciples side during the past tournaments, keeping Wukong calm with meditation, lessons and Tea so the Monkey king didnt take any potentially rash actions.

Much as he will always dislike them Macaque has to admit that they did care for Wukong when he could not.

Im thinking Mac finds himself split on what to do about the new tournament initially.

Part of him just wants to courtnap Wukong himself and be done with it, hoping that maybe he's reading between the lines right and wukong will accept him back, but another part of him feels he has no right to take such action.

So he decides to join the tournament and show all these lowlives how little of a chance they ever had at being Wukongs mate. Whether Wukong accepts him back or not.

Whether he disguises himself to enter the tournament or competes as himself, either way Mac is going to school all these losers in how to actually court the monkey king.

Final note i came up with another idea for a courting tournament event! Once the suitors have been whittled down to a managable number, more combat inclined demons might choose to have their suitors spar with them, not with the goal of either side being defeated, but to test compatibility. Yes like pacific rim. Its not a fight. Its a conversation.

Idea: Demon Courting Tournaments

So seeing so many Epic the musical Ithaca Saga AUs for Lego Monkie kid got me turning some thoughts in my head like fidget toys.

At this point i think most of the LMK fandom is familiar with courtnapping as a trope in some way and the afformentioned Ithaca sage aus, especially allthe ones based on The Challenge song, have given me thoughts.

So... what if.

COURTING TOURNAMENTS.

When especially powerful or desirable demons are being pursued by too many Suitors and theyre sick of having to deal with each one individually, a more organized solution is called for.

Ideally with the help of friends and family the sought after demon will call all their suitors together and set forth a series of challenges to win their hand.

Common challenges include things that show off a suitors strength and ability to provide, ya know fighting, races, hunting contests. But also more unexpected things like say, cooking competitions or Art and poetry or a judging of gifts, to determine which suitors actually know the interests or desires of the person theyre courting.

The challenges narrow down the pool of suitors until the final decision is made.

Buuuuuut

If the sought after demon doesnt wish to mate and marry, they can appoint a trusted friend or family member as their "Champion" in the tournament.

The Champion's job is to act according to the pursued demons' best interests, knocking out undesirable suitors, acting as the eyes and ears for them to see if any of the suitors might actually be compatible. Amd if it comes to it, winning the tournament themselves to assert the pursued demons right to remain single.

So where am i going with all this?

Well one i wanna write a Spicynoodles fic with this sort of premise but, while i was planning that i had MORE THOUGHTS.

Specifically thoughts about Wukong.

Sun Wukong returning home from his legendary journey now a god, a hero and, to his dismay ...

Single.

With Macaque's absence and presumed demise, Wukong finds himself with dubious honor of being perhaps the most eligible single demon in all of Asia, much to his chagrin.

Not only does he have no desire to find a new mate (he has... had a mate, his only mate, his dear lost Moonlight) The increasingly frequent attempted courtnappings are interfering with his efforts of rebuilding Flower Fruit Mountain (His Kingdom, His people all he has left except his pilgrim brothers).

Its pissing him off to say the least. And perhaps one or two especially powerful suitors wind up causing Wukong to make enough of a commotion that Heaven urges Wukong to find a more Orderly Solution.

A Courting Tournament.

Wukong is Annoyed but if this spectacle results in him finally getting some peace and quiet hell do it.

The Pilgrims are at his side through the whole fiasco.

And it works... for a time.

See the Handsome Monkey King, Great Sage Equal to Heaven, the Victorious Fighting Buddha, is just to tempting of a potential mate for all these demons to take the hint.

So in his long Life Wukong has to Suffer through multiple courting tournaments being held in his dubious honor so that all these randy demons will get the hell off his mountain.

At least 3 happen. One of Wukongs Pilgrim brothers acting as his Champion each time, all of them fighting increasingly fiercely to protect their Little Big Brother from the careless affections of his many suitors.

[pixiecactus]

himbo!gendry/dumb!gendry? i don't know him...

Look with your eyes, Arya wanted to shout at the men below. "Can't they see we're no lords or knights?" she whispered. "I don't think they care, Arry," Gendry whispered back. And she looked at Ser Amory's face, the way Syrio had taught her to look, and she saw that he was right.

.

The air was full of birds, crows mostly. From afar, they were no larger than flies as they wheeled and flapped above the thatched roofs. To the east, Gods Eye was a sheet of sun-hammered blue that filled half the world. Some days, as they made their slow way up the muddy shore (Gendry wanted no part of any roads, and even Hot Pie and Lommy saw the sense in that), Arya felt as though the lake were calling her. She wanted to leap into those placid blue waters, to feel clean again, to swim and splash and bask in the sun. But she dare not take off her clothes where the others could see, not even to wash them.

.

"If there's people, there's food," Hot Pie said, too loudly. Gendry was always telling him to be more quiet, but it never did any good. "Might be they'd give us some." "Might be they'd kill us too," Gendry said. "Not if we yielded," Hot Pie said hopefully.

.

Hot Pie agreed. "They told Yoren to open the gates, they told him in the king's name. You have to do what they tell you in the king's name. It was that stinky old man's fault. If he'd of yielded, they would have left us be." Gendry frowned. "Knights and lordlings, they take each other captive and pay ransoms, but they don't care if the likes of you yield or not." He turned to Arya. "What else did you see?"

.

Gendry squinted up at the sun. "Evenfall will be the best time to sneak in. I'll go scout come dark.""No, I'll go," Arya said. "You're too noisy."Gendry got that look on his face. "We'll both go." "Arry should go," said Lommy. "He's sneakier than you are."

.

"He's going to die, and the sooner he does it, the better for the rest of us. We should just leave him, like he says. If it was you or me hurt, you know he'd leave us." They scrambled down a steep cut and up the other side, using roots for handholds. "I'm sick of carrying him, and I'm sick of all his talk about yielding too. If he could stand up, I'd knock his teeth in. Lommy's no use to anyone. That crying girl's no use either." "You leave Weasel alone, she's just scared and hungry is all." Arya glanced back, but the girl was not following for once. Hot Pie must have grabbed her, like Gendry had told him. "She's no use," Gendry repeated stubbornly. "Her and Hot Pie and Lommy, they're slowing us down, and they're going to get us killed. You're the only one of the bunch who's good for anything. Even if you are a girl."

.

But Jaqen H'ghar still smiled. His garb was still ragged and filthy, but he had found time to wash and brush his hair. It streamed down across his shoulders, red and white and shiny, and Arya heard the girls giggling to each other in admiration. I should have let the fire have them. Gendry said to, I should have listened. If she hadn't thrown them that axe they'd all be dead. For a moment she was afraid, but they rode past her without a flicker of interest. Only Jaqen H'ghar so much as glanced in her direction, and his eyes passed right over her. He does not know me, she thought. Arry was a fierce little boy with a sword, and I'm just a grey mouse girl with a pail.

.

"Never mind about Ser Lyonel." He drew her aside by the arm. "Last night Hot Pie asked me if I heard you yell Winterfell back at the holdfast, when we were all fighting on the wall." "Everyone was yelling stuff," Arya said defensively. "Hot Pie yelled hot pie. He must have yelled it a hundred times." "It's what you yelled that matters. I told Hot Pie he should clean the wax out of his ears, that all you yelled was Go to hell! If he asks you, you better say the same."

.

"Maybe there won't be a lot of them.""If there's two, that's too many for you and me. You never learned nothing in that village, did you? You try this and Vargo Hoat will cut off your hands and feet, the way he does." Gendry took up the tongs again. "You're afraid."

.

She heard them coming long before she saw them. Hot Pie was breathing heavily, and once he stumbled in the dark, barked his shin, and cursed loud enough to wake half of Harrenhal. Gendry was quieter, but the swords he was carrying rang together as he moved. "Here I am." She stood. "Be quiet or they'll hear you." The boys picked their way toward her over tumbled stones. Gendry was wearing oiled chainmail under his cloak, she saw, and he had his blacksmith's hammer slung across his back. Hot Pie's red round face peered out from under a hood. He had a sack of bread dangling from his right hand and a big wheel of cheese under his left arm. "There's a guard on that postern," said Gendry quietly. "I told you there would be."

.

By midday Hot Pie had begun to complain. His arse was sore, he told them, and the saddle was rubbing him raw inside his legs, and besides he had to get some sleep. "I'm so tired I'm going to fall off the horse." Arya looked at Gendry. "If he falls off, who do you think will find him first, the wolves or the Mummers?" "The wolves," said Gendry. "Better noses."

.

Dusk was settling as they stopped to rest the horses once more and share another meal of bread and cheese. "I'm cold and wet," Hot Pie complained. "We're a long way from Harrenhal now, for sure. We could have us a fire—" "NO!" Arya and Gendry both said, at the exact same instant. Hot Pie quailed a little. Arya gave Gendry a sideways look. He said it with me, like Jon used to do, back in Winterfell. She missed Jon Snow the most of all her brothers.

.

"What about Hot Pie?" Gendry pointed. Hot Pie was already on the ground, curled up beneath his cloak on a bed of damp leaves and snoring softly. He had a big wedge of cheese in one fist, but it looked as though he had fallen asleep between bites. It was no good arguing, Arya realized; Gendry had the right of it. The Mummers will need to sleep too, she told herself, hoping it was true. She was so weary it was a struggle even to get down from the saddle, but she remembered to hobble her horse before finding a place beneath a beech tree. The ground was hard and damp. She wondered how long it would be before she slept in a bed again, with hot food and a fire to warm her.

.

"Aye, and good for you." The man smiled. "It's not every day I meet a lad with such a tasty name. And what would your friends be called, Mutton Chop and Squab?" Gendry scowled down from his saddle. "Why should I tell you my name? I haven't heard yours."

.

"Gendry," she called, her voice low and urgent. "They have a boat. We could sail the rest of the way up to Riverrun. It would be faster than riding, I think." He looked dubious. "Did you ever sail a boat?" "You put up the sail," she said, "and the wind pushes it." "What if the wind is blowing the wrong way?" "Then there's oars to row." "Against the current?" Gendry frowned. "Wouldn't that be slow? And what if the boat tips over and we fall into the water? It's not our boat anyway, it's the inn's."

.

honestly the fact that gendry is street smart and also happens to be very intelligent on his own, is hardworking and very loyal, has a quick wit, and has a good set of survival skills is why he really works well as arya's partner and most trusted friend. also he's not a pushover and i think that's very important as well.

(i'll be willing to argue that since he was an apprentice under tobho mott, he must know how to read and write some words, or at least know his numbers... not saying that he received the same level of education that arya did; that would be ridiculous, but i believe that he must have at least a little grasp of it)

[enquiringangel]

Statements like: ‘None of the Lost Boys like Star’ lack a firm basis in canon. Talking just movie canon here rather than novels, scripts, etc. which actually add a bit more nuance to the whole thing.

Star's place in the story is as Michael's comphet love interest and as window dressing, because all movies must include a hot chick(tm). She has very little agency or role in the plot other than to lure Michael into the vampires' world. The story could have easily worked without her with only a few minor changes.

But that's typical of the film industry doing lady characters the dirty. We all know this. And we all know that characters of her type are widely disliked across Fandom as a whole for a bunch of reasons, one of which is probably that those of us who identify as women became sick to death of being portrayed as objects without agency because it can hit too close to home. Let's not flog that dead horse anymore.

Back to her relationship with the boys: they don't share enough screen time for us to definitively say they feel any particular way about her. Aside from Paul briefly saying "Ah, chill out girl" when she tells them off for hazing Michael, the only one who interacts with her at all is David. And that is very limited too: after the two scenes where she gets on the back of his bike, he basically pays her no attention for the rest of the movie. Though it is implied that they have some conversations off screen (about making Michael her first kill, etc.) that we don't see .

The boys' focus moves to Michael, and on male-male bonding. (I am very straight-faced while typing this.) Star fades away into the shadows during Michael's initiation not only because she was unable to stop him from making her mistake, but because her presence is unwelcome. It would be like someone's girlfriend going along to a wild bachelor party: probably doesn't happen that often and likely to be uncomfortable as hell. It's a boys' night. She'd cramp their style.

Whatever the writers' intentions may have been, any attempt at creating a rivalry between David and Michael for Star's affection falls flat on its face because David simply does not care to play that role. He does not seem to give a damn that Michael is obviously lusting after her, and shows no signs of being bothered about them sleeping together. In my view the scene where he makes Star get on the back of his bike instead of Michael's has very little to do with Star - that triumphant smirk makes it clear he's trying to get a rise out of Michael.

From the little interaction David does have with Star, I get the impression that their relationship is one of ownership. He views her as belonging to him, but obviously he has no problem sharing her if it means he gets what he wants - Michael joining them. For her part she comes across as being a little afraid of him, which is understandable considering the boys are literally horror movie monsters who brutally murder people. (Contain yourselves you monsterfuckers, yes I know, we all love them because of, rather than in spite of this.) But the way she laughs while riding on the back of his bike, the sheer joy in her eyes, it makes me think that's not all there is to it. There is happiness in her time with them as well.

[iwanttobepersephone]

Rant about Harry Potter and JK Rowling, stick with me here

Ok, so, I hate JK Rowling. I feel like that's a given, right? Like, she's a transphobic homophobic bigot who hides behind feminism and routinely denies massive parts of the holocaust, and I despise her in ways that I don't think words can even express. I can't stand her, but y'know what I also can't stand?

When someone implies that my mother, who is one of the most supportive people I know, and a massive part of the founding, organization, and actions of a local group made specifically to fight Moms for Liberty and school boards in our area trying to harm trans and queer people, is transphobic because she likes Harry Potter

Wanna know why my mom likes Harry Potter? Because when she discovered the series at 12 years old, she quite literally lived in a cupboard under the stairs and was in an abusive household. The magic of the wizarding world or whatever was her escape, it's the reason she's still alive, and by extension, the reason I was ever alive.

But, sometimes, not even often, when I try to express even the most minimal amount of appreciation of that, someone says to me "but isn't JK Rowling transphobic? Why would you support someone like that? Are you transphobic?"

Which pisses me off beyond belief, as one might imagine

In this situation, "separate the art from the artist" isn't exactly a good phrase to use, given the fact that the goblins or whatever run the bank are Jewish stereotypes and the house elves generally being happy to work under their masters being a straight rip from the whole happy slave myth, and those are very very important things to recognize and understand, among others

I feel like it's a lot closer to "separate the hundreds if not thousands of lives she's helped from the hundreds if not thousands of lives she's ruined", or even better, understand that the good she's indirectly done for people makes all the bad that much more horrid

My mother is the closest thing to a hero in this entire world and I will not stand to hear one more person accuse her of being transphobic purely because she thinks fondly of a book series that saved her life. I will not stand for people saying she's just as bad as a holocaust denier because she owns every book in the series. I will not stand for anyone going entirely against their point of not judging a group as if it's monolithic by saying all Harry Potter fans are bad people, including my mother. And, once again, it's not often at all that this happens, but it happens and I'm pissed about it and needed to rant

Anyways rant over JK Rowling sucks don't believe a single thing she says and don't support her unless you wanna support someone actively trying to make the existence of queer people illegal

[jamiethebeeart]

Sketches

[bedforddanes75]

im curious whos everyones least fav member of 1d cos i HATED liam and idk why

[lionbearfox]

okay furina teaser how are we doing everyone

[helielune]

aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaauauuuuuuuuuuuuuuuhhgggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh

[monstermp3]

.

[daydreamerbunny]

Just getting something off of my chest before work.

Ever since I joined the Avatar writing fandom on Tumblr (back in January) I've noticed posts talking about Na'vi x human fan fics that called them gross or people didn't understand why they were written.

I'll be honest, these posts genuinely hurt my feelings, but I totally understand why people wouldn't want to read them hence why I label them as human reader fics.

It is so simple to scroll past someone's fic or to even block them if you do not want to see it. Now I am aware that some of these posts aren't fully serious, but I've just seen enough of them for them to bother me.

I just hate when human fics are treated like this totally outlandish idea, especially with Jake. Jake is an avatar. He was once human. ALSO, aren't we all humans thirsting after these mfs???

I don't know. I guess all I'm asking for is a bit of empathy when you make posts about people's work, especially when the fic is about two consenting adults. Now if you're looking to actually be rude and hateful just go ahead and block me lol

[ourceliumnetwork]

hey guess what my car trauma includes the *inside* of the car too apparently! :D :| idk i feel like getting made fun of for having to eat fast food in my car between work and school while my catalytic converter shat itself to the point that my back seat footwells were filled completely with various QSR trash maybe gave me some sort of complex. Just a hunch though, who knows.

[disorganised-bagel]

date idea: we sit down and you let me show you my collection of stickers that i keep in a random pencil case

[phagodyke]

wugh

[crossbackpoke-check]

Fixed point (mathematics) // The History of Perspective // "Point of Disappearance", Dennis Held // How the Hughes hockey family stays grounded // Fixed Point Photography-- // "Portrait of A.", Tung-Hui Hu // Mic'd Up | Hughes NHL 25 cover shoot // "Burnt Norton", T.S. Eliot // "Circuitry", Janine Joseph // Bruce Bennett // Nick Wass // from obedience [maybe one day, during a point in time], kari edwards // Bill Rapai // "Errand Upon Which We Came", Stephanie Strickland // Benchmark (surveying)

art kid luke hughes