#very mixed feeling about dutch

[arthurmorganapologist]

dutch van der linde when i catch you dutch van der linde

[urfavleo777]

Warnings: SMUT18+, high sex, oral (m receiving), hair pulling, strong language.

A successful concert was the perfect reason to plonk down on the couch and smoke a joint. That was the first thing Joost did when he opened the door to his living room, holding you continuously in his arms. He gently placed you on the soft cushions, a satisfied smile playing on his lips as he settled beside you, taking a slow drag from the joint between his fingers. The first tendrils of smoke curled between you, filling the air with a musky, herbal scent.

“I can feel you lookin at me, y’know,” you giggled with eyes closed, a sweet moan escaped your lips as he sat you on his lap, not shying away from the physical contact.

“Can you blame me?” He asked softly, his breath warm on your skin as his lips ghosted over your shoulder. “I was up there on stage, and all I could think about was you.” He took another deep inhale, the smoke settling in his lungs before he exhaled it slowly, the plume of grey fog swirling and dancing around you. “God, I needed that,” he sighed, his shoulders relaxing as he slouched back against the couch. His head turned to face you, his gaze lazily roaming over your body. “You wanna try?” he offered, his hand finding its way to your thigh, gently stroking it.

You nodded, your eyes tracking the way his lips wrapped around the joint, taking another slow draw. Joost held the smoke in his lungs for a moment, and then leaned towards you, his lips hovering close to yours. “Open.”

You opened your mouth slightly, curiosity mixing with a hint of nervousness as his head dipped lower. Joost exhaled slowly, and you felt the warm, spicy smoke fill your mouth as his lips pressed against yours in a soft, languid kiss. He pulled away slowly, eyes watching as you exhaled the smoke in a thin, curling stream, your heartbeat picking up speed in your chest. You hadn't mentioned it to him before, but it was the first time you had been exposed to any kind of stimulants, although it was rather obvious from your sour face, which you were clumsily trying to hide. Joost couldn't help but chuckle at the contorted expression, his hand gently tilting your chin up so that you looked at him. “You’re cute when you’re stoned,” he teased, his finger tracing the contour of your face. “Your eyes get all lazy and heavy-lidded.”

You stumbled slightly, the room spinning a bit as the weed took effect. Joost steadied you with a firm grip on your hips, his fingers digging into your skin slightly. “Careful,” he murmured, his lips close to your ear. “Don’t want you falling off my lap just yet.”

“It's just... getting very hot here.” You managed to mumble, rubbing against his crotch. Joost let out a soft gasp, his eyebrows shooting up in surprise. He turned to place the joint on the coffee table, needing two free hands to take care of you properly. Your actions had caught him off guard, and his hand tightened on your thigh, his fingers digging into your flesh.

“Jesus, you're not wasting any time,” he muttered, his gaze darkening as he looked down at you. He moved suddenly, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you onto his lap so that you were straddling him. His hands slid up your sides slowly, his palms splaying against your bare skin as he pushed your shirt up, exposing your midriff. “Much better,” he murmured, his eyes sweeping over your bare torso appreciatively. “I like having you like this, on my lap. You look good on me, you know that?”

“I want you,” you moaned, moving your mouth to his ear. “I want you so bad it's driving me crazy.” A low groan escaped Joost's lips as your words hit his ears, his fingers flexing against your hips. As you moved again on his lap, you felt a bulge forming beneath you, giving you goosebumps.

“Undo my belt, schatje,” you were a little surprised by the harshness in his voice, but the use of the dutch pet name sent a shiver down your spine, making your heart flutter in your chest. You reached up, your fingers trembling slightly as you fumbled with the buckle of his belt. When you finally undid it, Joost's hand captured your wrist, holding it firmly. “Just keep them there,” he whispered, his voice low and commanding.

You swallowed hard, your heart beating faster in your chest as you nodded. Joost's gaze held yours for a moment, his eyes flickering with a combination of desire and something darker, more intense.

Then, he let go of your wrist, his hands moving to his jeans.

He quickly unbuttoned them, the sound loud in the silence of the room. The zip was undone next, and then he pushed them down, kicking them off. Your eyes dropped to his lap instinctively, and you had to bite your lip to keep from moaning. Joost chuckled softly, noticing the direction of your gaze. “See something you like?” he teased, voice low and velvety.

At this point you couldn't wait any longer. In the blink of an eye, you found yourself on the floor, kneeling in front of him. He looked down at you, a smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth, his gaze roaming over your face, taking in your flushed cheeks and parted lips.

Joost was a different person when he was under the influence; he was more calm, but the way he fucked you made you think you did something wrong to him.

“Go ahead.” He encouraged, “I hope you’re better at this than you are at smoking a joint.”

Otherwise, this comment would make you feel offended, but not then. You nodded obediently, taking him into your mouth eagerly. He moaned when he felt your tongue swirling circles over his tip and his eyes flutter closed. Meanwhile, he took one last drag on the joint, tilting his head back. “That’s it, pretty girl.”

Your pace quickened, sucking and stroking him with a new hunger, pulling off of him to spit on his tip before taking him back into your mouth. Joost's hands tangled themselves in your hair, pulling softly on the strands as he lost himself in the rhythm. You wanted to take your time with him at first, but Joost was not a patient man; he grabbed your head and held it into place before he began to fuck your mouth. “Fuck, look a’ you. Takin’ me so fuckin well.” He continued to praise you as your mouth worked him up, moaning into the darkness of his living room. The more you heard his pretty voice and his sincere compliments, the more you wanted to please him.

Joost studied your face for a moment, a mixture of amusement and desire in his eyes. “Such a good-fucking-girl. Fuck, baby, I'm so close.”

His hips stuttered and his thighs shook slightly on either side of you, waves of pleasure rolling through his body and he finally released thick, white strands of cum onto your tongue. Joost swore he was on fire and was melting beneath you.

You coughed a bit, regaining a bit of composure before Joost grabbed a handful of your hair and brought you into a kiss.

The kiss was hungry, almost desperate, as if he was drinking you in, devouring you. He gently tugged on your hair, sitting you back on his lap. His tongue teased against your lips, silently demanding entrance, and he groaned softly as you granted it, his hand tightening in your hair. He pulled you against him, impossibly close, his body a firm press of warm, hard muscle and coiled tension. “My baby, you have no idea how much I couldn’t wait to get off that stage,” he murmured against your skin, his soothing tone almost making you cry. “I wanted you in my arms, where you belong.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Breakfast VI

Ellie Carpenter x Daniëlle van de Donk x Child!Reader

Summary: You and Ellie fight

Mamma is standing at your door, arms crossed and you know you're in trouble.

She's giving you a look that she usually doesn't give.

Mamma is not a very angry person. She's not mean and she doesn't yell or lecture like the parents of some of your school friends. Mamma doesn't cross her arms over her chest or ordinarily look at you like she's looking at you now.

But right now she is and that's a bit scary.

"You know," She says, stepping inside and shutting your bedroom door behind her," I thought that you two would be okay with each other while I was out."

You remain silent.

"Imagine my surprise when I get a call from Ellie in tears over your behaviour."

"Ellie's pathetic," You mutter.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, Mamma."

Daan sits on the edge of your bed. "Talk to me. What happened?"

You stubbornly huff. "Ellie tried to kill me!"

Daan sighs. "She didn't try to kill-"

"She fed me pear!" You insist," Mumma, I'm not lying! It's true!"

"It was an accide-"

"It was pear! I could have died!"

It had happened a few days ago when you and Ellie had already been butting heads over everything.

You wanted a new toy at the store. Ellie didn't let you.

You didn't want to go to the kid's club at the gym. Ellie made you.

You didn't want to wash your hair after coming home. Ellie didn't take no for an answer.

Then she made lunch, some weird fruit salad thing and you had nearly eaten a chunk of pear.

You'd blown up at her, all of your built up annoyance at her bubbling up into pure rage as you screamed and cried and sobbed over the piece of pear still stuck on your fork.

You'd said some pretty hurtful things. Like how Ellie didn't deserve Mumma and how you didn't want her as your Mum and you wished Ellie would just go back to Australia and never come back.

You knew they were hurtful and mean but she hadn't been listening to you and your feelings all day and you wanted her to feel like how she'd been making you feel.

You hadn't known you'd made Ellie cry though.

Grown ups like Ellie weren't meant to cry.

"But it was still an accident," Daan tells you, cutting off anything else you were going to say," Ellie told me she mixed up your pear-free bowl with hers. She's sorry."

You look away even as Daan softly cards a hand through your hair. You purse your lips. "Ellie didn't listen to me all day. Even before the pears."

"And I'll talk to Ellie about her behaviour like how I'm talking to you about yours. Now, I want you to think about your actions and how you could have reacted differently. You're free to stay in your room until dinner but if you come out before then, you need to apologise to Ellie, okay?"

"Okay, Mumma."

"Good girl." She presses a kiss to the side of your head. "I don't like coming home to find out my girls are arguing."

"I'm sorry, Mumma."

"Don't apologise to me. Apologise to Ellie."

You stubbornly stay in your room for as long as you think Mumma will need to talk to Ellie before venturing out.

You can hear Mumma in her room unpacking her suitcase from her trip and you can also hear the tv going in English so you know that Ellie's watching it.

Mumma likes watching tv in Dutch and then French when she thinks she needs to practice but Ellie hates it so if it's in English then you know Ellie's in control of it.

"Ellie," You say and she jumps out of her skin, her head whipping around to face you.

"Hey, Pipsqueak." She gives you an awkward little smile and you shuffle a bit closer. "What's up?"

"I..." You look away, unwilling to look her in the eye. "I'm sorry for what I said. You do deserve Mumma, I do want you as my mum and I don't want you to leave to Australia." You nod once you've recited everything. "Sorry."

"I'm sorry to," She says," For not listening to your feelings all day and for giving you pear."

You both stand awkwardly in front of each other and you finally raise your gaze to meet hers.

There's something twinkling in her eyes and you stick your tongue out.

"I'm not hugging you if that's what you're waiting for!"

She laughs, ruffling your hair as you try to duck away. "It's great that you're back to normal!"

Her fingers dig into your armpits and you shriek as you try to squirm away.

Daan walks in to see Ellie trying to tie you up in a blanket while you try to smother her with a pillow.

Right back to the normal.

[zae-heeyyy]

Recalcitrance

Summary: You and Ms. Grimshaw just can't get along. Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Female!Reader Word Count: 1,763 Tags: fluff, kissing, high honor Arthur Warnings: camp violence, angry Arthur, suggestive themes

a/n: I have mixed feelings about Grimshaw. I think she's a very enigmatic character. Still, based on interactions I've seen with her, I feel this isn't too far off. These always end up super long for some reason. Idk how that keeps happening. Anyway, I hope you enjoy; thanks for reading!

recalcitrance: resistance to authority or guidance, often characterized by defiance or disobedience. It implies a refusal to comply with rules or expectations, despite attempts to persuade or control.

You and Abigail Roberts went way, way back. Working girls stuck to a code; part of that code was looking out for each other and ensuring you returned after one of your "shifts." Abigail ran away for a while, leaving you to assume she'd met a rich man and settled down.

When you met her again, she introduced you to Dutch Van Der Linde and company; you fell in with them shortly after. Since then, you constantly scrubbed blood from clothes, slept on the ground, and ate whatever game Pearson could find for the stew. Many girls you knew would never trade that life for this one, but you had a family to return to, even if they weren't the most conventional. And amidst it all, you'd found something you didn't think possible for you. 

You were drawn to Arthur Morgan instantly. The little things spoke volumes for you—how he checked on you in passing, the moments spent playing dominos together, and his overall politeness towards you. The bar was in hell, but he treated you so differently than any man ever had. Arthur's dumb cowboy act didn't fool you for a second, and you were captivated by him.

After one too many inadvertent shoulder grazes and incidental hand touches, the chemistry between you had become undeniable. Following a game of dominos he let you win, the stocky man asked you to take a walk with him. You weren't too far away from camp before you found yourself pressed against a tree by him in a heated kiss. So many thoughts swirled around your head. You were in the middle of nowhere; it was pitch black, and you were being hunted by the law, yet there against that tree was the safest you'd felt in a long time. 

Then, on another fateful night, you were alone with him at the campfire while everybody else had settled down. A sly smirk crossed his face, and he scooted closer to you, grabbing and kissing your hand. You giggled, maintaining eye contact as he kissed up your arm, gradually, a low groan escaping him. One thing led to another, and he guided you into his tent. You let him have you, and you, him. 

It was then, when you were on the brink of your climax, half-lidded eyes staring upward into his, that you finally understood what people meant by lovemaking. When it was all over, you got up to leave out of habit, but he drew you back into his arms and asked you to stay.

Since then, you've been his girl, and he made sure everybody knew, always kissing you before he left for a job, settling you into his lap at the poker table, or sneaking you away from your chores to spend time with him. You saw each other for what you were, not the labels that had been applied to you. And you loved him so much.

For the first time in a long time, your life was good. Well, mostly, except you hadn't quite mastered the life of navigating Ms. Grimshaw. Over the almost year you'd known her, she was rarely nice to you. She seemed more tame when Arthur was around, but he wasn't today.

By noon, you had gotten sick of hearing her voice, and she seemed more ornery than usual. The nagging was constant: do this, don't do that, do this faster, do this slower. You wished she'd shut the hell up and leave you alone. Just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, you saw her speed-walking towards you.

You were sitting, about to light a cigarette, when she approached, red-faced, huffing, and talking fast, "There you are," she started, putting a finger in your face. "Sitting around like always. I have had it with you!" You stood quickly out of instinct and opened your mouth to speak, but she cut you off. "You're useless around here, so why don't you go into town and start selling yourself again. At least then you'd finally be carrying your weight!" 

Her words stung like branding, making your heart race and your eyes sting. The few people left at camp had gone quiet. Mary-Beth looked on nervously while Karen was glaring at the older woman. Your heart pounded in your ears, and you spoke faster than your brain could process.

"All you're good for is being an ugly, hateful bitch." As soon as the words left your mouth, she swung on you. It was a backhanded slap that stung and broke the barrier that was holding back your tears. You recoiled, holding your stinging face.

"Know your place, girl, before you end up somewhere worse than on your back. Now get!" She pointed towards the edge of camp.

"Screw you," you said, quickly wiping away a falling tear, "I'd rather fuck every man in town before I keep letting myself be treated like this." You stepped up to her, " Want me to leave? Well, I'm goin."

And you did. You collected what little belongings you had into a bag and charged out of camp, eyes forward and your head held high. Tilly and Mary-Beth tried to stop you, but you marched down the dirt path until they couldn't see you anymore.

"Look what you gone and did you old hag," Karen spat, "Oh, just wait til Mr. Morgan gets back. Bet you won't be so high and mighty then." 

Arthur didn't ride in until sunset; he searched for you before even getting off his horse. His face fell confused by your absence, and just as he was about to inquire, Mary-Beth and Tilly approached. He knew instantly that something was wrong.

"What, what is it?" His eyes searched theirs. They looked at each other, silently debating who'd break the news to him. It was Tilly who stepped forward, putting a calming hand on Arthur's arm. She talked low and cautious, "Arthur, she—her and Ms. Grimshaw—they—" She was cut off by Karen and Ms. Grimshaw beelining towards them.

Karen's voice boomed, speech slurred. "Go ahead, tell 'em." She waved her beer-clutching hand between Arthur and Ms. Grimshaw, defiantly meeting Susan's gaze before tearing her eyes away to meet Arthur's. "That wench Grimshaw smacked her across the face and ran her out!"

Clenching his fist involuntarily, he leaned into Karen, talking low and steady. "The hell are you talking 'bout?" His chest was rising and falling quickly now.

Ms. Grimshaw stood resolute and waved him off. "This doesn't concern you, Mr. Morgan. This is my camp, and these are my girls and my rules," she finished, arms crossed, staring at Arthur.

Stepping close, he imposed his broad figure on Ms. Grimshaw, flashing a smile that was anything but inviting. He took on a tone he rarely used with the women.

"Oh, Susan, that's where me and you disagree. This may very well be your camp, and you can make up all the rules you want, but she's my girl." His face had straightened into a scowl by the time he finished.

"Well, I'll—" she began incredulously, hands still on her hips, but Arthur threw up a halting finger.

"Look, Ms. Grimshaw, I respect how you run this camp, but that girl, she's off limits. Now, I'm gonna find her and bring her back, and you can raise all the hell you want, but if you lay a finger on her again—" 

"Arthur..." Tilly cut in warningly. He squeezed his eyes shut and turned away, ending his conversation with Susan. "Where'd she go?" he asked no one and everyone at the same time, speed walking to his horse.

"She took off down the road," Mary-Beth called out, but his horse was already kicking up dirt. Riding as fast as he could, he reached the nearest town at record speed. He hitched the horse outside the train station, forcing the doors open with his shoulder. The place went quiet, everybody focusing on the sudden disturbance. Arthur ignored the looks he was getting, scanning faces for yours. Spotting you took no time, and you stood as soon as you recognized him. He rushed to you, taking your hands in his; concern riddled his face— a rare sight. Guilt washed over you as you looked up into his eyes; you opened your mouth to speak, but he started before you.

"You alright?" he asked, looking you up and down. Dirt had stained the hem of your skirt, and your eyes were tired; his frown grew as he looked you over. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your head to his chest and nodding.

"Wasn't gonna go, just needed to get away for a while," you murmured into his chest. Rubbing your back soothingly, he exhaled with soft, relieved laughter. One arm still around you, he gently tilted your head to meet his gaze with his free one.

"Don't you go walking out on us. Least without tellin' me first."

You agreed with a quick bob of your head, and he pulled your chin in towards his, kissing you on the mouth. He withdrew and gestured to the bench you'd risen from earlier; you both sat. Arthur wrapped a big arm around you, and you buried your face into his shoulder.

"That woman hates me," you grumbled with a pout. Arthur squeezed you closer, and a faint grin formed on his lips.

"Nah, she never liked any girl I brought around. Give her more time." He scratched his chin thoughtfully. "It's all outta love, I think," he concluded. You huffed at that, disbelieving.

"She got a funny way of showing it."

"Sure," he chuckled again. He sat for another minute before gently nudging you off his shoulder. Grabbing your bag and standing, he asked, "So you gonna come back with me?"

You tried to sulk but couldn't when he was standing there waiting patiently with his hand out. You finally relented. 

"Fine, but I ain't just gonna take it next time," you declared, taking his hand. A big smile stretched across his face. 

"You ain't gotta do nothing you don't wanna. If any of those fools have a problem with it, send 'em to me." You made your way out of the train station, hand in hand. You paused, gazing at him with a quirked eyebrow.

"I can handle myself just fine, Arthur Morgan." Another chuckle built up in him as he threw your bag on the horse. He turned to kiss the top of your head before grabbing you by the waist and lifting you up on the horse.

"I know, darlin'."

[adventuringblind]

Cutting Tensions

Daniel Ricciardo x Reader x Max Verstappen x Lando Norris

Dialouge prompt: "The deal was that if I won, you'd all have your way with me."

Genre: SMUT

Summary: Reader wins a bet and spicy things ensue

Warnings: Filthy, PinV sex, implied anal, oral, fingering, thigh riding, degradation, praise, under negotiated BDSM, dom/sub,

Notes: I'm back from the dead! Finished my bachelor's degree today and move on to my masters in January! How do we celebrate? Smut. This is filthy and part of my 1000 follower event. Requests will close at the beginning of January. If you'd like to participate, click on the link :)

Masterlist

Minors DNI please

She's more observant than the boys give her credit for. They aren't being subtle or even smooth, for that matter.

Daniel flirts openly with her every chance he gets. Max is always trying to spend time with her both inside and outside the paddock. Lando is very handsy at the most inconvenient times. While they are busy oggling at her, they have failed to notice the longing looks that pass between the three of them. She's getting sick of it, really. Macho men who are fighting over her don't have the balls to admit they are also trying to show off to each other.

She's hit the breaking point and has decided to do something about it. And, if everything goes according to plan, they will have a lovely night and hopefully some realization of feelings while they're at it.

She'd managed to place the car on pole for the race tomorrow. Her odds of actually turning it into a win look good so far. She takes her phone out and sends a quick message to the boys.

'If any of you three win tomorrow, I'll spend the night with you. But if I win the you three take me at the same time. Deal?'

A course of enthusiastic replies cause her phone to explode. They really are the most oblivious boys she knows at times.

Just as she'd hoped, she stands on the top step of the podium. Drenched in champaign with adrenaline coursing through her veins. Max is a step below looking at her knowingly.

The anticipation builds over the course of debriefs and media work. The interviews take hours and she want to throw the microphone at the journalists who constantly ask her about being a female in formula 1. The same question they have asked over the entire course of her career.

She runs into the three boys looking at each other awkwardly. Max flashes the keys to his car and she feels her shoulders intense knowing escape is near.

"Your hotel room I'm assuming?" Daniel throes her a playful smile.

"Well, unlike the three of you, I'm pretty sure I cleaned before I left." She throws as they walk towards Max's car.

The rest of the trip back is filled with playful and teasing Comments. Daniel is the least petrified of the three boys and even leaves a few lingering touches along her thighs.

They toss their stuff into random corners of the room. It's not like it's massive, but she knows they'll find a way to make it work. Unless they decided to stare at her all night instead of doing anything.

She faces them and huffs. Daniel looking a little more amused then the other two at it.

"The deal was-" She puts her hands on her hips. "-That if I won, you'd all have your way with me."

Daniel finally takes the initiative and slams his lips onto hers. It's wet and hot. She can't help but moan into his mouth at the sensation. His fingers hook into the belt loop of her jeans to pull her closer. "You mean like this, darlin?" She just moans back in agreement.

Daniel pulls back, leaving her to whine in anticipation. He yanks on Max's wrist to pull him into the mix. The Dutch looks both helpless and surprised, and his lips land on Daniel's. The Australian slides Max into his place. He looks sufficiently warmed up now and in his element.

He places kisses everywhere along her neck and jaw line. His hands wrestle with her clothes until she's exposed and the feeling of the duvet is beneath her; flush against her skin.

She feels small beneath him. Max's hands groping at her like she'll fly away. Her hips already blossoming with dark marks.

His lips leave her for a second as he throws his shirt off. Her hands fly to belt around his waist. It's messy, but he's left in his boxers eventually.

On the other side of the bed, Lando was clueless. Despite his show of confidence, he was prepared for it to either be just him or not at all. Not to say that he doubted her skills. No, he doubts himself. Didn't mentally prepare for this outcome.

Daniel takes the initiative with him just like he'd done Max. Daniel curls his fingers around Lando's waist and hesitantly leans closer. It's enough that Lando has time to back out if he wants, but he doesn't. He hates admitting it; that he wants this desperately. He also just wants to be good, and that usually comes with experience. Something he doesn't have in this scenario.

His thoughts come to a screeching halt when Daniel's lips land on his. It's much softer than he'd seen with the other two.

It lasts for a measly minute until Lando's body is being manhandled onto the bed. Litgerally thrown onto it like he weighs nothing more than a sack of potatoes. He doesn't do any of the work aside from lay there in sheer cluelessness.

Everyone if fumbling out of their clothes. It's frantic and animalistic now, but he's definitely turned on at the sight of it. Yeah... this is definitely what he wanted.

She is going to explode. Max's tongue has found her ripples, and his hands are pressed into her back to keep her close. His thigh sits between her legs up against her core. She grinds her lower half against Max's skin. Her moans come out as high-pitched whine as the stimulates become too much.

Max releases his tongue from her and takes over, moving her hips for her. "You like that baby? You're leaking all over my thigh, so you must."

She's about to hit that point when Max throws her off him. He loses his boxers in record time and slips on one of the many condoms sitting on the bedside table.

Her and Lando lay in opposite directions. Enough for her to land her lips on his and her hands to make contact with his skin. The Brit is whining loudly at something. The beginnings of tears prick at his eyes. Daniel is running hands up and down Lando's sides, occasionally brusing against her own.

It feels like seconds of peace before Max is slamming into her. He throws her leg over his shoulder and hits the same place every time. Hips snaping so hard the sound echoes in the room. Her hands immediately find some kind of hold on his arms. Behind her, Daniel is praising both of them. "You two look so good. Look at how she's falling apart underneath you, Maxy."

Lando's cries and incoherent babbling are also increasing. It's messy and the heat of the room is already causing her skin to become slick with sweat.

"Can you two manage coming at the same time? Can you do that for us?" She's pretty sure she could come undone any second now. Max's pace hasn't faltered. If he continues, she's going to combust.

Max is whispering praises in her ear. Landos hand grips whatever it can of her body. Frantic moans and flailing limbs come with crashes of endorphins. It's blissful. Max draws it out until he finishes and collapses on top of her.

There is no reprieve for her and Lando. Daniel is a puppet master and both of them are merely on strings being moved to his will.

She ends up on top of him. Neither she nor Lando move. Their skin is plastered together as she buries her nose in the crook of his neck.

Daniel is moving her up and down in rough motions. His grip is changing in strength every few seconds as Max is somewhere out of sight sucking off the Australian.

He's directing Lando on where he wants the Brits hands on her. Eventually coming to the point he isn't holding onto her at all. It's Lando guiding her body. His hips buck into her, but it isn't like Max. Lando tries different things. Enough to startle her into a second orgasm when he begins to hammer up into her relentlessly. He has her begging for it this time.

Daniel and Max find both them at the top of the bed. They whisper things at them. Max is praising on one side while Daniel degrads on the other.

She is putty in their hands. Molded to their will. Swimming in the bliss of their attention.

"My turn." Daniel growls at her. He moves them all again. Her body is swiftly turned to where she can clearly see Daniel's eyes wide with something primal. "Need your mouth baby. Are you okay with that? Can I fuck your throat?" She responds by simply throwing her mouth open and sticking out her tongue. "Dirty."

The smirk on his lips disappears as his cock slides down the back of her throat. She can helpless to do anything except let her mouth be used.

Max is back between her thighs. This time with a tongue on her clit and three fingers moving inside her in such a way that she sees white. Occasionally she hears Max pull away to praise Lando who is out of her sight. Whatever he's doing is working as Max's movments begin to randomly falter.

Daniel is wiping away the stray tears that are sliding down her cheeks. She's coughing and gagging but the ecstasy is to overpowering for her to think to much about it. "Such a good girl." He coos after a particularly nasty cough.

He warns her about five seconds before he finishes. On last slam into her mouth and he's spilling into her throat. Far enough back that it hardly touches her tongue.

He holds her there as Max brings her over the edge again. His hands pin her wrists as she frantically tries to pull him closer or push him away, she's not sure which is happening.

She's still riding the high, Daniel barely out of her mouth when Lando pops back onto the bed sputtering and wiping his mouth. "That - was amazing." His chest falls heavily as he regains his breath.

Her body won't move. It's exhausted. Every last ounce of energy spent. Everything feels sticky. Lingering electric pulses stem from the soft touchs of Daniel and Max.

"You did so good, loves." Plural, meaning with her and Lando. She's curious what she'd missed while wrapped up in her own pleasure.

"Cuddles?" Lando squeaks.

There are a few chuckles and a denial. "Bath and water first."

It's much softer then she'd anticipated. Max and Daniel don't get in the bath with her and Lando, but the sit on the edge and keep them company. Just chatting like this is a normal Sunday nightm

The bed is really to small for four people, but they make it work. They fall asleep tangled together. Limbs tossed in all sorts of directions and phones still on silent.

She wakes up first and orders breakfast. Foods that she knows are trainer approved across the board.

She's lost in her own thoughts. So much so that she doesn't notice the three boys beginning to wake. Not until a set of arms wraps around her waist.

"How long did you know for?" Asks Daniel from right behind her. The other two boys still wrapped in each other but eyeing her intently.

"A year now."

Lando sits upright "You set us up?!"

"The way I see it, we all got a good fuck out of this and feeling have come to light." She shrugs.

"So-" Max sounds unsure of himself. The anxiety seeping through just the tiniest bit. "-Are we going to keep doing this?"

"I was thinking a proper date might be next up." Lando nods in agreement at her proposal.

Daniel's gein is magnificent. He scans the three of them, pondering what to say next. "Alright, a date it is then."

[volkswagonblues]

a bibliography for us Daniel Malloy freaks

(a loosely pulled-together reading list about print journalism, New York, the 1970s & 80's, and the AIDS Crisis. Most of the credit goes to @islandbetweenrivers who started this)

On Daniel Molloy, California Boy

The show never explicitly states if Daniel went to college, but since college students were exempt from the Vietnam draft, which ended officially in 1973, it could be interesting to imagine Daniel in Berkeley.

Slouching Toward Bethlehem by Joan Didion

The White Album by Joan Didion

Berkeley Barb archives (link) -- weekly underground newspaper that ran in Berkeley between '65 to '80

The Daily Cal First 150 Years (link) -- student newspaper at Berkeley

On Journalism

Iphigenia in Forest Hills by Janet Malcolm

From her reporter's seat, Malcolm observes that a trial is merely "a contest between competing narratives". (Guardian review)

The Journalist and the Murderer by Janet Malcolm

“"Every journalist who is not too stupid or too full of himself to notice what is going on knows that what he does is morally indefensible," wrote Malcolm in an opening sentence that caused a sensation in the tiny, self-referential world of posh American journalism.” (Guardian review)

The Freaks Came Out to Write: The Definitive History of the Village Voice by Trisha Romano

“The Voice’s origins were proudly amateurish. One early contributor was a homeless man recruited from a local street; equipment consisted of two battered typewriters, an ink-splattering mimeograph machine and a waste paper basket for rejected submissions. Morale spiked when a staff member discovered that dried pods used in fancy flower arrangements contained opium, which was boiled up in the office when the time came for a coffee break.” (Guardian review)

Note: The Village Voice was THE alt-weekly newspaper and it was run out of Greenwich Village in NYC. Lots of incredible writers start there and then move onto the Times, Vanity Fair, etc. Very much the sort of crowd a young Daniel would be mixed in circa 70's and 80's.

The Night of the Gun, by David Carr

David Carr redefines memoir with the revelatory story of his years as an addict and chronicles his journey from crack-house regular to regular columnist for The New York Times. Built on sixty videotaped interviews, legal and medical records, and three years of reporting, The Night of the Gun is a ferocious tale that uses the tools of journalism to fact-check the past. (amazing rec from @archive-z)

Note: imagine if Daniel did this and then fact-checked his way into remembering that vampires existed

Rogues: True Stories of Grifters, Killers, Rebels and Crooks by Patrick Radden Keefe

Keefe can paint complicated portraits of victims and vigilantes alike while covering their lonely pursuit of justice. He intuits why a Dutch woman who has exposed the crimes of her gangster brother might lie about her present whereabouts. He understands why a man who lost his brother in an aeroplane bombing might spend the rest of his life trying to find the culprit. Again and again, Keefe surmises that even the most detailed of investigations can only speculate about human motives. (Guardian review)

Note: the sort of deeply human longform profiles that feels like the sort of writing Daniel does, based on his masterclass clip and what he reveals in his interactions with Louis

On New York, New York (in the 70s)

Notes from Underground, by Eric Bogosian + Perforated Heart, by Eric Bogosian

In four billion years the sun will explode. But before that we'll run out of fresh water and before that we'll all die of some mutation of AIDS that's spread by coughing. It's not my fault anyway. I can't think about this any more today. I'm going to masturbate.

Note: The OG. What else is there to say.

Ladies and Gentleman, the Bronx is Burning: 1977, Baseball, Politics, and the Battle for the Soul of a City by Jonathan Mahler

In the long sweep of American history, of course, 1977 is not exactly 1865, 1941, 1968 or 2001. Yet from porn shops to gay bathhouses, from Yankee Stadium to City Hall, from the blackout to Son of Sam, from Rupert Murdoch's New York Post to the rise of SoHo and Studio 54, the city was living through what Mahler convincingly calls "a transformative moment . . . a time of decay but of rehabilitation as well.” (New York Times review)

Remain in Love: Talking Heads, Tom Tom Club, Tina, by Chris Franz (2020)

Frantz’s account of the early days, when the Heads lived in the pre-gentrified Lower East Side of New York, an almost literal war zone. While searching for a loft to live in, they viewed one building that was on fire. One spring afternoon, Frantz walked over to the now-legendary club CBGB to ask for a gig. The place smelt of “beer, roach spray, dog doo [the owner, Hilly Kristal, had a free-roaming saluki] and Chanel No 5”.

Winter’s Journal, by Paul Auster

Note: To me, Auster is one of the closest real-life Daniel Malloy analogues: born around 1950, literary career in NYC, moved to Paris in the 1970s for a few years, troubled middle-class background. Novelist though, not a journalist. There’s an anecdote in this book about a car crash that feels like a deadass Devil’s Minion fever dream. Crazy stuff. One of my personal favourites

On the AIDS Crisis

And the Band Played On, by Randy Shilts

The book chronicles the discovery and spread of the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV) and acquired immune deficiency syndrome (AIDS) with a special emphasis on government indifference and political infighting—specifically in the United States—to what was then perceived as a specifically gay disease

The Journalist of Castro Street: The Life of Randy Shilts, by Andrew E. Stoner

Biography of Randy Shilts that’s very helpful for imagining Daniel in the early 1980s newsrooms covering Karposi’s sarcoma

How to Survive a Plague: The Story of How Activists and Scientists Tamed AIDS by David France (2017)

It’s not easy to balance solid journalism with intimate understanding of a subject, and even harder to write eloquently about a disease that’s killing your friends and loved ones. France pulls it off, in his own words (his description of finding a college roommate’s panel in the AIDS Memorial Quilt is heartbreaking) and in letting his articulate sources speak for themselves. (SF Gate review)

Timeline of AIDS (link)

Overview of HIV (link)

And some films, just for fun

The Panic in Needle Park (1971): Drama film directed by Jerry Schatzberg. Al Pacino is a heroin addict and small-time dealer in Manhattan who falls in love with another addict.

Serpico (1973): biographical crime drama film directed by Sidney Lumet. Al Pacino is a hippie cop (yes, I know, its part of the plot) with one foot in the 1970s bohemian art scene

American Graffiti (1973): teen movie set in 1973 Modesto ("I'm just a shitty kid from Modesto"--Danny Malloy)

The Taking of Pelham 123 (1974): More grimy 1970s NYC stuff

All the President’s Men (1976): THE ABSOLUTE JOURNALISM MOVIE??

Star Wars: A New Hope (1977)

Cruising (1980): 1980 crime thriller written and directed by William Friedkin. Al Pacino is a cop (again) but this time he goes undercover in NYC gay leather clubs

Almost Famous (2000): Set in 1973, it chronicles the funny and often poignant coming of age of 15-year-old William, an unabashed music fan who gets the chance to write for Rolling Stone

Spotlight (2015): More journalism movies! The true story of how the Boston Globe uncovered the massive scandal of child molestation and cover-up within the local Catholic Archdiocese

everyone say thank you to @islandbetweenrivers for starting this, I just polished up our google docs and posted it on tumblr.

Also if anyone has something to add please let me know!

[redcrescentmoons]

Only You In The Room

Daniel Ricciardo x male!rockstar! reader

Summary: Everyone knows Daniel loves music. What they don’t know is his (slight) crush on the bassist from one of his favorite bands.

AN: Happy Daniel birthday gang! Legit celebrating this harder than my own birthday. Sorry for the lack of posts, I’ve been fighting some hardcore writers block and don’t have any original ideas, but i wanted to do smth for Daniels bday anyway. Hope you like it!

AN2: This is purely self indulgent im sorry

AN3: (after completion) lowkey thinking of turning this into a series, what do you think?

It was a well-known fact around the paddock that Daniel loved music. Scratch that; not just the paddock knew, anyone that knew anything about the driver knew about his passion.

While Daniel often put forward his love of country music, another genre he strongly appreciated, although not quite as much as country, was rock.

So when he found a small pop-punk band through social media, he immediately followed them, hooked from the first note.

Soon, he had every song committed to memory, and started mentioning them more around his friends.

Max quickly caught on to Daniel’s new find, and as he always did when the Aussie got excited about a new artist, he asked the older man to tell him about the band.

As Daniel spoke, Max quickly caught on to the fact one was being mentioned slightly more than his band mates.

"And what’s so great about that bassist, huh mate?" the Dutch questioned "What do you mean?" replied Daniel, a slightly confused look on his face. "C’mon man, you keep on talking about him. So why?"

Daniel’s face immediately grew red as he denied the accusation, and changed the subject quickly, which didn’t go unnoticed by Max.

Daniel had only known the band for a few months, but had the pleasure to have seen them grow considerably. He followed them throughout their first out-of-city gig, to their first show in another country, to their first tour. And in a weird way, he couldn’t have felt prouder of the group of boys.

As the london-based band announced their first european tour, Daniel felt overjoyed once he came upon the realization that with his race calendar, he would be in Europe at the same time as the band would.

He bought himself a ticket for their first show of the tour, in London, the very moment he realized it was a mere 2 days after Silverstone.

The Aussie couldn’t wait for Silverstone; despite passing it off as excitement for the race, it was clearly more.

By the time the race arrived, it had completely fled his mind, leaving him to focus solely on the concert.

His outfit was planned out, his ticket was ready, including the bonus one he bought for Max, and the anticipation was coursing through his veins.

He didn’t even take the time to properly enjoy Silverstone, just counting down the time until he saw the band he had loved since he first heard them.

When the day finally arrived, he felt so excited but there was just a little bit of nervousness mixed in there. He told himself it was nothing, but the Dutchman beside him had already figured out the cause of his anxiety.

The show was being held inside a small venue, also containing a bar. Daniel immediately downed an alcoholic drink in the hopes of calming himself down. Feeling it’s effect on his body already, he dragged his friend up to the front, where they managed to get to the edge of the stage.

As the opening band went on, Daniel found himself to quite enjoy them, but grew impatient by the end of their set.

When the lights came back on and the opener left, a couple stage hands walked out to switch out the stage. Daniel found himself blushing as he stared at the man setting up the bass; it was you.

As the people around him went to get drinks between the bands, the Aussie went in a trance watching you set up your bass pedals, chatting with the stagehands, oblivious to his watchful gaze.

As Daniel’s admiration for you grew at the way you refused to let someone else set your things up for you, he suddenly snapped out of it as Max waved his hand in front of his face, a small smirk hiding at the corner of the Dutchman’s lips.

Before Daniel had the time to question it, the lights dimmed once again and the band members walked out on the stage under colored lights.

As the applause roared surprisingly loud for the small crowd, Daniel found himself cheering particularly loud, and a large smile grew on his face as he made eye contact with you, noticing the slight blush that developed on your face.

You winked at him and looked away, turning to your band mate to get the show started. You leant into the singer’s microphone, yelling "Hello everybody! We’re Nervous Breakdown! This one’s called ‘Insomnia’ and we hope you love it!" You finished your tirade with your signature smile, a contagious cross between a grin and a smirk.

Daniel screamed some more, belting out the lyrics as they came.

As the night went on, Daniel found himself having the absolute time of his life. Even Max noticed how his smiley friend was even happier than usual.

In between songs, you would use your band mates microphone to joke around and speak to the audience, your high energy and excitement contagious, spreading around the crowd like wildfire. Not that Daniel needed it.

When you announced your last song of the night, Daniel found his happiness met with a sudden wave of sadness.

That sadness was, however, diminished when your lead guitarist announced you all would be outside after the show, if anyone wanted to stick around. Of course, everyone cheered, and you went on with your final song of the night.

Once you all had bowed, and waved, and walked off the stage, people started flooding out of the room, a certain amount waiting outside until you all came out.

Despite not seeing the band exit the venue, he could tell exactly when you and the boys walked out, as a loud wave of cheers erupted from the group of people.

Daniel sat patiently at the back, waiting to meet you, his ticket and a sharpie in hand, already rehearsing what he would say to you.

When the crowd started thinning, and you were finally visible, hair disheveled from jumping around, bass on your back, tired smile on your face, Daniel’s breath was taken away.

Max, feeling his companions nervousness, planted a comforting hand the on the Aussie’s shoulder, pulling him slightly closer.

"It feels weird when it’s the other way around don’t you think? Us waiting to get something signed?" Daniel chuckled at his remark, the Dutchman having succeeded in keeping his anxiety at bay.

When he finally got to you, he was the last one there. He had to admit, he admired you for staying throughout the whole group of people, knowing firsthand what that felt like, especially after a tiring concert.

When his eyes landed on you, the whole script he had prepared in his head disappeared completely.

As much as Daniel wanted to greet the band as a whole, he just couldn’t take his eyes off the young man in front of him, extending a slightly shaky arm towards you.

"Hi, I’m Daniel. Huge fan"

Part 2?

[pinescent-and-gingerbread]

˗ˏˋ Arthur Morgan Modern!AU Headcanons ´ˎ˗

To answer this ask from the lovely @crystalofmoon19 , I got to think a bit more deeply about what a modern!AU Arthur could be. This absolutely stunning Arthur pic is from @arthurmorgan-vp!

JOB ´ˎ˗

Has a job that means a lot to him and is totally dedicated when doing it.

Arthur flourishes when helping others. I saw a Chartur fanart that portrayed him as a nurse and god I love this idea. He's emotionally VERY tough, making him efficient even in difficult and stressful times when a patient's life is in his hands. He's also a practical person who needs to have a concrete, manual aspect in his work. On top of that, we have the whole "service to society" aspect.

Police officer could also fit this dynamic. (I know it's pretty ironic considering he's a criminal in the canon but it's one of these jobs where he could put his strength into action to help others).

Also, without the need to survive and do criminal acts, with a caring family who could push him in the right ways, he also could have a job in arts. Arthur canonically is a curious and inventive person, he draws every little thing he finds interesting around him and cares for places, characters and events most people wouldn’t. I could picture him as an illustrator/concept artist. Or tattoo artist too? Why not.

HOBBIES ´ˎ˗

Sooooo artsy.

If he works at the hospital, he needs to have a sketchbook to just write and draw like in the canon. With other mediums being way more accessible nowadays, I think he could also paint and even sculpt from time to time.

Art helps him to get dark thoughts out of his head and focus on something when life gets hard.

However, if he already works in an artsy field, I think he would need to get up and move after a whole day sitting and would love to just go jogging, hiking, and taking long walks in nature. A combat sport could also do the work, as Arthur has an important code of honor: a discipline like Judo or Wrestling could help him get all his pent-up energy out while respecting his opponent; boxing could work too.

100% have a Polaroid and takes pictures of good times and his close ones every chance he gets. His bedroom/apartment is full of objects that carry an emotional value to him.

MODERN THINGS HE LIKES ´ˎ˗

Barbecues.

Would wear the ugliest apron and cap while doing them btw. And doesn't see what the problem is.

Classical rock music and vinyl. Thinking about Led Zepplin, The Stones, The Doors. Vintage music all the way. Has a secret soft spot for Lady Gaga though. Don't tell John. And (not-so) hot take, it's Hosea who introduces him to his old blues and rock records (Dutch prefers Jazz music.)

Camping and long hiking trips. Trekking when he feels really adventurous.

Going to the cinema. (100% eats salty popcorn and messes with John during the film if it's a family outing.)

In modern days Arthur would have been born in 1988. This means he was a '90s kid: he fondly remembers VHS tapes, baggy jeans, his old PlayStation One, maybe watching the first episodes of Pokémon, too. He's canonically such a nostalgic.

Would 100% make his own mix on cassette tapes btw

Flannels. I picture him with comfy rather than fancy clothes. He would also have a big leather jacket or vintage bomber for winter. And a leather bag like this one where important work papers are mixed with random trinkets found on his hikes.

RANDOM LITTLE FACTS ´ˎ˗

Arthur is so messy (I mean look at his tent). His car (Hosea's old one) is also a complete mess, cups, leftovers from meals, CDs, work stuff and random objects cover every possible inch of it.

Talking about it, looooves to drive. Totally do it with one hand on the wheel. And with good music ofc. (He would put his other hand on your thigh)

Has a dog. Or wants one deeply. A big one. And he definitely wants a lot of animals once he has a bigger house with you.

I said he could be a tattoo artist. I think he would have a tattoo, of an animal. Of course, we as a fandom thinks of the deer, but it has to be something meaningful to him. Maybe the animal who inspires him the most, or one they have seen in the wild with John during a walk in the woods.

Arthur is not a good cook. Buys a lot of food telling himself this time, he will succeed at making this damn dish. Biggest mess ever, ingredients everywhere on the floor, the walls, his body and hair. Pure chaos. Everything burns. Kitchen ends up on fire. Uses the internet as last hope, tries to watch as many tutorials as possible but it doesn't help+his phone ends up covered in egg white, flour, and wet ingredients. Throws away the food and gives up, orders a pizza.

Repeat previous paragraph every time he wants to try a new dish he saw somewhere.

(The phone is okay because he has the strongest and largest phone case ever. The kind of enormous one made to protect phones in building zones, for his hikes. It's pitch black.)

Overall I'd say a Modern!AU Arthur would probably be a bit happier even though still very nostalgic and melancholic at times (without the constant need to run away and kill people, his mental health would be much better.)

Important disclaimer: these are my personal thoughts, they could totally be shitty, I'm not at all claiming this is the absolute truth about him. A character is always subject to a personal interpretation, therefore anyone could picture him differently! Btw, I would love to hear your thoughts about it!

Thanks for reading! I hope you liked my silly little ideas.

I'm thinking about doing a part.2 where we could dive into his habits, his relationships with family, friends and s/o and other little fun facts. Let me know if I should! -Pine 🌱

[bloodykora]

Thonking hard about Buggy and long haired Buggy especially. Like I don’t mind the stylistic choice in the LA but maaaaan, maaaaaaaan. There’s the obvious stuff like playing with his long hair and braiding it but my mind keeps going back to Head!Buggy and you and it’s just a bit of time to kill before you get anywhere and you were honestly just supposed to watch him so he doesn’t get snatched up by a seagull and something and you both agree this doesn’t mean ANYTHING (he’s gonna develop a soft spot for you and ONLY you out of all the straw hats immediatly), but it’s so damn boring out here and you have some hairties you found somewhere and just… You using Buggy’s head like a hairstyling toy and just braiding it for him or putting it into little buns, clipping it out of his face so it doesn’t get into his eyes etc.

Sanji passes you once and is about to say something but Buggy just gives him a glare that’s all „Got something funny to say punk?“ and he just shakes his head and moves on.

(You forget one tie in there before he reuinites with his body. A simple little thing with two skull beads. He initially keeps it because he actually feels it suites his style but he developes a fondness for this little thing in particular that he doesn’t allow himself to think about for to long)

This is so much longer then I thought it would be so I'm putting it under read more but like yes.

- No cause I absolutely agree, love his long gorgeous hair. I like to think his hair isn’t thin either, its a good mix of thickness but not to the point of curly. He’s got the nice ‘wave’ going. Did you know that in his hat, there are small braids in the hair coming out of it in the LA.

- It didn’t take long for Buggy to start complaining about the heat and it didn’t take you long to get fed up with his complaints

- You kept looking at how his blue hair kept draping over the side of the barrel he was on, and how his bandana has not moved a inch since he was taken out of the bag on the ship

- "Let me do your hair." "No." "Let’s continue then to sit in almost complete silence, would you like to play cards? Oh, wait. You have no hands. What about I Spy? I spy something blue."

- Just making fun of the his situation until he caves in to let you, he says to stop your whining but in reality he could really use the scalp massage

- Putting a crate behind the barrel or something so you can sit and do it. It’s softer than you had thought it would be, and you could see small braids near his bottom layers.

- "Did you do these?" "Huh? I can’t really see the back of my head, you gotta be more descriptive." Holding one of them out for him to see. "Oh yeah, adds a nice touch to the hat when I’m performing!"

- The shed though, his hair would shed so much. You’d be pulling blue hair strands out of your clothes for the rest of time. And they’d get everywhere on the ship too.

- You could hear him sigh in relief when you first start brushing through it, and you felt relieved knowing those knots have been eradicated.

- First thing you do is just a little bun so his neck could get some fresh air for once and then it evolves into the craziness.

- Buns, pigtails, high and low ponys, 1 braid, 2 braids, fishtails, french, dutch, braiding 2 pieces and then wrapping it around his forehead like a crown. Favourite would be doing 2 french braids at the top of his head til it's the bottom and then putting the hair tie there so it becomes a fancy low pigtail.

- "I can't believe how pretty you are with your hair, not very fair to the rest of us good sir." You joke out, meaning it though. "I've always been pretty!" You snort at his reply not knowing how warm his face had started feeling.

- Every pirate has a niche collection, yours? Your hair pin collection. To die for. You have been collecting hair clips and such for this exact occasion. Butterflies, wooden, yellow, purple, bobby pins, bows, ribbons, flowers. The whole works.

- Buggy even thinks about asking you to join his crew just for your hair decoration skills.

- One time you even trim his dead ends for him, and some of his front pieces to frame his face more.

- He got so used to it that if you didn’t approach him with a brush in hand first thing in the morning that he would start asking for you saying how he needed his royal brushing. (He’s totally not worried at all sometimes when you take too long, ha that would be. Ahem.)

- Sometimes he’d even doze off, but would swear he was just resting his eyes.

- A few times someone would stop to glance at you two but never intervene, except Luffy. He was always in awe. Sanji had voiced his concerns for you but never says anything in front of Buggy, you could never see but the two men were death staring each other every time they passed.

- Word spreads through the crew and even though none of them had long enough hair to do or in Usopp’s case, has been doing it himself this whole time. They do come to ask for little clips here and there, Luffy wanting one for the string on his hat so he has something to fidget with, (Nami wanting some to wear with her different outfits later on), Usopp wondering where you got heart ones so he could get one for Kaya, even Zoro wondering if you had one he could wear for Kuina’s memory on special occasions.

-You knew you were nearing Coco village, you had overheard Buggy talking to Usopp about it. How they should be there within the day. You settle for a low bun that curls up right beneath his cap.

- "No beads today?" "Well there is some on the tie but you can’t see it, I was thinking that it would be a more relaxed day. I got some stuff to do around the ship."

- Everyone is so caught up in Nami that by the time things have cooled down you realize he’s gone, no more blue hair to twirl around your fingers.

- The clown realizes too, fiddling with the tie in his hands. Burying the longing deep down, hoping he never sees you again but praying he might get a glance of you once more. He takes it out if he knows he’s about to raid somewhere to avoid breaking it.

- Tears apart his quarters if he misplaces it, someone has almost lost a hand because it fell off a table. 

[meazalykov]

baby pink

esmee brugts x reader

one part to the baby pink series

you never thought you’d muster the courage to invite esmee over, especially given how shy the both of you are. yet, here you are, standing in the kitchen of your apartment, waiting for her to arrive. 

ever since you both joined barcelona femení back in august, you’ve had a special bond. this didn’t happen overnight, due to her shy nature. you gave her a comfortable space to open up to you and eventually, she started to consider you her #1 on the team. 

slowly but surely, you opened up to each other, finding comfort in your shared shyness and love for football. to the team, it's clear that you guys have a crush on each other. the small touches and hidden jokes don't go unnoticed by the close team– but you guys just want to go with the flow. 

as you pull out the flour and sat it on your kitchen island beside the brown sugar– the doorbell rings. you look towards the foyer, where you can see the door, and take a deep breath. 

when you open the door, esmee is standing there in jeans with a nice yellow shirt on with a black puffer jacker. the dutch displayed her typical shy smile, her hands tucked into her coat pockets due to the chilly hallways.

“hey come in, you can put your jacket on the hooks and your shoes on the bench here” you say, stepping aside to let her in. you nodded your head towards the polished white bench where some of your shoes sit, including running shoes and some cleats. 

“hi and thank you” she replies, her voice soft but warm. she steps inside and you close the door behind her, waiting for her to get situated before you lead her into your kitchen.

as she walks further into your apartment, her eyes widen in surprise.

all of the kitchen utensils on the kitchen island are pink, complimenting your white counters. as she looks forward into the living room— she sees your beige colored couch with pink pillows and a pink throw covering it. 

she continues to look around as you finish setting up to bake cookies and brownies with her. esmee sees the pink colored tulips on your coffee table beside a pink book– and a regular mirror up on your wall. 

“everything is so… pink,” she says, a hint of amusement in her voice. the dutch girl looks at you and noticed that you’re wearing pink pajamas. it is the late evening time so she doesn’t mind it, shes glad you’re comfortable around her. 

esmee smiles at you as you put your hair back into a bun, chuckling at what she said to you.

“yeah, i guess i should’ve told you about all of this. pink is my favorite color.” you say as you pull out chocolate chips and brownie mix from a brown grocery bag. 

to be fair– you thought everyone would’ve noticed that pink was your favorite color. you wear baby pink cleats (that adidas gifted to you)  all of the time during barcelona matches, your hair ties are always pink, your gym bag is pink, and you wear blush all of the time. 

some of your teammates are observant and already know about it, some did not– including your crush. 

“i can tell,” she responds with a smile, her eyes scanning the pink kitchenware again, and even the pink accents in the bathroom visible from down the hallway to your bedroom. 

“It’s adorable don’t worry. its very you.”

you feel your cheeks warm at her compliment. the heat was on in your apartment but you still blame it on the chilly air from outside. 

“thank you.” 

reaching into one of your cabinets by esmee’s legs– you chuckle before you hand her a pink apron. “ha– here, you can wear this. it’s my favorite.”

esmee takes it with a grin. the apron was clean and smelled like vanilla as she placed it over her head. “thank you.” 

an hour passes and the both of you talk as you wait for the cookies and brownies to finish in your oven. 

“i’m starting to get comfortable here– finally. it was a huge adjustment from washington.” you tell esmee, as you both talked about your ex-clubs before coming to barcelona. you picked at your nails as you remember the first few months at barcelona. 

the team loved you right away– but moving to a new country in a new continent was hard. luckily, the team made an effort to spend time with you so you never felt alone. esmee hanging out with you is an example on how the team wanted you to feel loved with them. 

“i get it. i’ve came here as a child to see barcelona play so i’m kind of got used to it faster.” esmee says, crossing her heads on your bar stool to get more comfortable. 

“you got to see messi in his prime, i’m jealous.” you joked. esmee laughed before taking a sip of the ice water you gave her– inside of a pink tinted glass cup. 

“yeah– but ronaldinho is my idol. i wish i got to see him play.” esmee comments, you nodded your head as you looked at her. 

the love in your eyes couldn’t be more obvious. there is some space between esmee and you, but you wanted to close it. she looked so pretty and all you wanted to do was tell her– but you held back each time. 

“i understand, but now you get to see me play.” you both burst in laughter at your joke. you’re oblivious to the love in the dutch girl’s eyes too. 

“you’re so funny. you’re lucky I love yo–” esmee stops. your heart drops to your stomach, wondering why esmee had to cut herself off. 

“love what?” you frown. in your mind, you hope that esmee was going to say what you thought. 

“you’re lucky i love your jokes.” esmee says casually. you would’ve believed her lie, until she quickly reached her hands for the glass of water again. you put your hands– with the nails painted with baby pink polish– together. 

“esmee?” 

“yeah?” 

“i feel like you’re lying.” you say. trusting your intuition, you know you had to confront her on her slip up.   

“um-” esmee rubs her hands onto her jeans as she looks away from you– at your pink colored clock in your living room.

“esmee.” you repeat. this time, you walk closer to her and sit down on the barstool beside her. you took her hands off of her legs and held them with yours. 

esmee swallowed in nervousness as she felt your soft hands holding hers. seeing the pink beaded bracelets on your wrists, with one of them being the colors of the lesbian flag, she takes a deep breath and looks at you finally. 

“do you love me?” you breathe out, as if someone could’ve eavesdropped on your conversation. 

the dutch girl didn’t respond right away, which didn’t make your nerves feel better. however, you rubbed her hands in comfort– hoping that she does love you the same way you love her. 

“i do. i do love you.” esmee mumbled as she looked down towards your legs. 

she was preparing for rejection, but she wouldn’t get it. 

you took your hands away from hers and placed your right hand on her neck. 

the two of you leaned in and your lips made contact. the sync of your lips lasted a few seconds before you pulled away– scared of overwhelming the left-back on your team. 

“i love you too esmee— so much.” 

— 

it's been two weeks since you guys confessed your love for eachother, but nothing much has happened since.

its two days after christmas, and you just dropped your sisters off at the airport so they could go back home to the states.  all you could think about was esmee. 

since no games are happening until the new year, you chilled at home watching scream 1. you didn’t mind watching a halloween centered movie around christmas so much since you were bored. 

you didn’t want to bother alexia, ingrid, mapi, patri, salma, or ona since they’re spending time with their families. the next time you’ll see them is at the new years party mapi and ingrid are hosting. 

you couldn’t text esmee either– not due to the confession from a few weeks ago– but you assumed that she was in the netherlands with her family as well. 

as you finished your fruit salad and placed the empty plastic bowl on the coffee table– planning on throwing it away after the movie ends– you hear your doorbell. odd. 

the only people you knew in barcelona were your teammates, and you already did a gift exchange with them after the game against rosengard, so you slowly walked to your door in curiosity. 

your heart stopped when you recognized the braids from the peephole of your door. you quickly unlocked your door and opened it to see esmee holding a big baby pink bag with another small pink box. 

“oh my goodness hey– come in–  i thought you went home for the holidays!” you gently pulled esmee inside your apartment by her puffer jacket arm. she giggles as you lock your door take the closed gifts out of her hands, so she could take her warm jacket off. 

“i did, i just got here this morning.” she says as she slips her adidas slides off of her feet. you smiled at her before leading her onto your beige colored couch. 

“wait right here!” you say and place the pink bag and box beside her. she watched you run down the other hallways into your bedroom, where you came back out with 3 boxes wrapped in blue wrapping– blue is esmee’s favorite color. 

as you handed the blue boxes to her, her jaw dropped slightly– happy that you thought about getting her presents as much as she was looking forward to getting you stuff for christmas. 

“i hope you liked what i got you!” you say as esmee starts to open up her presents first– both of you ignoring the tv in front of you both. 

for christmas, you got two pairs of sneakers along with a pair of blue nike cleats for esmee. in november, you saw a tiktok repost from esmee about two pairs of nikes that she wanted so badly– so you decided to get her those. 

“i’m so happy, thank you thank you.” esmee launched her body on top of yours on the couch. you kissed the top of her forehead before she sits back up. 

“you’re welcome. i’m happy you love them.” you say. 

“here– now open up your presents!” esmee excitedly hands you the baby pink bag. you smile brightly seeing her happy. 

removing the paper in the bag, you first pulled out a miffy plushie. you jaw drops and you lightly squealed at the sight of the soft thing. in your head, you’re glad its just esmee and you because some of the team would complain that you already owned enough miffys. 

“i love this!” you say. you gently placed the plushie on the couch beside you before you pulled out the next thing in the bag, which was an adidas box. 

“esmee- no you didn’t!” you say as your eyes widen at the box. 

“yes I did!” 

you opened up the box to reveal a pair of cleats. the cleat is mainly white with hints of pink throughout the laces. 

“these are so gorgeous!” you take the paper out of the cleat, which kept it shape, and quickly place one of the cleats on your left foot. 

the cleats are gorgeous. in your mind, you knew that the cleat would look great with the third cyan jersey at barca. 

“thank you so much for the gifts, i love them just as much as i love you.” you say five minutes later, after opening everything esmee got you. besides the miffy and cleats, she got you some pink colored candles and a nice pink colored sweatshirt. 

you felt her body tense a tiny bit as you hugged her, before she hugged you back. 

“i love you too.” she relaxed into your body as her arms wrapped around your lower back. 

“esmee.” you say. 

“yes love.” she responded. your heart melts at her name for you, deep down you want her to say it again. you held her tightly in response to that. 

“what are we?” you ask. you were nervous but that quickly went away as you felt the dutch girl scratch your back slowly. 

“will you be my girlfriend?” esmee asks straight away. you smile on her shoulder at this– grateful that this moment is happening. 

“yes. can you be my girlfriend?” you ask. 

“absolutely.” esmee says before pulling you into a soft kiss– on your glossy pink lips. 

<3

[alicent-vi-britannia]

Lelouch's relentless search for purpose in life

I've previously talked to you about Lelouch's trauma through the enneagram to explain why Lelouch refuses to open up and trust others and insists on doing everything alone to feel self-sufficient and strong. I've also used the enneagram to explain that Lelouch has locked himself into a protective shell and is uncomfortable feeling vulnerable because of his trauma and his upbringing in Darwinian values ​​in Britannia. However, I haven't talked to you directly about one thing that is very important and perhaps because it is so obvious I have overlooked it until I stumbled upon a small thread on Twitter.

In the last conversation Lelouch has with his father, Charles nullifies the meaning and value of his existence by telling him: "But you're dead. You've always been dead, from the moment you were born. Who gave you the fine clothes you wear, a comfortable home, the food you eat, and your own life? I gave you all of that. You are nothing to me because you have never existed." At that moment, Charles kills Lelouch in symbolic terms, causing him enormous psychological and emotional damage from which he never recovers.

We have this flashback in episode 7 of the first season and later Lelouch threatens CC with suicide if she does not let him go to face his sister, Cornelia: "Until I met you, I was dead. A corpse that existed behind a false appearance of life, a life in which I did nothing real. I experienced the emotions of living day to day as if I were a zombie, with the feeling that I was dying little by little. And if I have to go back to that, then I prefer… [And he places his finger on the trigger of the gun]." The series connects those two scenes through a Dutch shot focused on Lelouch's gaze. The Dutch shot is a steep horizontal tilt shot that is used to indicate instability or danger or that something is not right. In this case, it warns us, on a superficial level, that Lelouch has felt dead since his last meeting with his father and that he has been fighting against that (unfounded) belief and these negative feelings and, on a deeper level, that this is a wrong and harmful belief of Lelouch's that has been poisoning his mental health ever since.

(It's sad to compare the two shots. Little Lelouch's eyes show deep pain. As the Bart and Lisa Simpson meme says: it's the exact frame in which his heart broke. Teenage Lelouch's eyes, on the other hand, are empty. A dead look.)

There are several moments in the story that give us an idea of ​​the young prince's struggle. For example, in the first Audio Drama, "The Uninvited Prince," a young Suzaku rescues Lelouch from some children who are beating him and reproaches him for not standing up for himself and disregarding the hospitality his home provides him and his sister, to which the child Lelouch replies, "I am here and I will live. If I live by my own strength, then I will never be dead again." Little Suzaku, of course, finds Lelouch's statement absurd and just thinks he is a strange child. But this response reflects the boy's insane desire to be self-sufficient (to the point of rejecting the help of others) in order to feel that he is alive (remember that Charles told him that he is alive because he has given him everything he has).

We also have a Picture Drama (I'm sorry I don't remember or have the exact number of the PD, but if it's part of the alternate universe, we can ignore it because they are different universes that shouldn't be mixed) with a monologue by a teenage Lelouch: "I've made a vow to use the strength I have to save Nunnally. That will be the proof that I exist in this world."

These words evoke in me a part of Lelouch's song "Back to Zero" (for the fantastic Code Black album in Ashford) in which our hero sings: "Oh! Can you hear me? This fight is how I know I'm alive."

That is, Lelouch tries to prove his father wrong by looking for a purpose to live that reaffirms his existence and, in principle, Lelouch finds it in Zero and the rebellion since they are the means he has to destroy Britannia and create a kind world for Nunnally. And that's why later on he abandons Ashford Academy, the Zero mask and his friends and gives in to depression (in the future, I'll talk about this moment in more depth in another analysis). Then his goals change and his motivations are reconsidered for a series of reasons and events that I won't stop to explain here, but I will point out that I find it interesting and moving how Lelouch goes from clinging to a purpose in life to giving up on it and dying, in order to fulfill his new goals, obtain results and atone for his sins (the magic of a powerful script and a narrative arc, Larry).

Also, all of this explains why Lelouch lost his temper in the season 1 finale when Suzaku yelled at him that his existence was a mistake and that he needed to be wiped off the face of the Earth. Not only did it bring back memories of Vietnam for Lelouch, it was another important person to him who was denying his existence. Suzaku's words hurt him because, as President Snow said in the Hunger Games trilogy, "the people we love the most are the ones who destroy us." I'm not sure if Suzaku knew what Charles told his friend since Lelouch never reveals his secrets to anyone (people around him, including his loved ones, find out on their own), but Suzaku certainly hit a sensitive button that mentally unsettled Lelouch.

Poor Lelouch. He just wanted his existence validated.

[jflemings]

Hello , thanks for the hcs... There is so much potential to piper storyline...will you be willing to share anymore cute piper with Arsenal teammates...

Love your writing very much

🍫 and 💐 for the fics ... thank you so much for so many amazing fics

— awfc and piper headcanons!

piper’s world

୧ ‧₊˚ 🫀 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

- lotte is a big help when piper is learning to read

- piper gets emily to do her hair a lot after the first time she does it

- when alessia first moved to arsenal, piper mistook her for leah since they’ve both got blonde hair and wear it in a ponytail. she grabbed onto lessi’s legs and held on until she realised she wasn’t leah

piper ran off in embarrassment and wouldn’t look lessi in the eye for ages

- vic and viv teach piper bits of dutch

- leah was never able to get piper to wear an england jersey but after the world cup, piper outright refuses

- piper tried to convince beth and viv to bring myle to training even though she knows they can’t

“pip you know she can’t come”

“they’ll never know!!!!”

- piper had the hardest time understanding katie and codi’s accents

- cloe, stina & kyra’s chants are piper’s favourites

- manu likes to carry piper on her shoulders

- lia is piper’s most trusted secret keeper

- sometimes piper will follow kim around like a baby duck

- after amanda announced her pregnancy, piper started saying hi to both her and the unborn baby.

“hi mandy, hi baby”

- caitlin thinks it’s funny that piper has a mix of an australian, canadian and british accent, especially when she can’t decide how to pronounce a word

- frida, viv, lia & lotte being so calmly spoken really helps with piper’s nerves whenever she’s in an unfamiliar situation

- piper calls sabs smiley

- before jen left she’d hold piper in the air like an airplane and run around making engine noises

- piper’s plane and bus buddy is usually you, for obvious reasons, but she does also gravitate towards kyra

- cloe was a little awkward around piper for a little while but piper didn’t mind. she thought it was funny

- katie gave piper an ireland jersey and was painfully reminded of went down during the world cup game against aus

piper kept bringing up her vs raso and giggling about it

- for piper’s 3rd birthday the girls organised a big picnic at the park

- piper always convinces teyah to fork out cash for vending machine snacks and drinks

- after winning the conti cup, katie cleaned the trophy out and then filled it with apple juice so piper could feel included in the celebrations

[bellewintersroe]

Daniel Ricciardo x HornerDaughter! Reader.

Part 6 omggg! Not really too much to warn about in this chapter, mentions of smut and appearance from Max Verstappen who’s innocent asf. Only a short chapter, I’m going to have to wait to upload the rest of the parts when the Hungarian GP is over and done with this weekend so apologies for the small break! I’ll throw in another smut chapter just whilst you all wait <3

@benbarneslut @dinodumbass @ricci-ardo @allabouthappiness After sharing a bed for the past 2 nights, Daniel and y/n fear they’ve been caught out by a fellow Red Bull driver. Daniel jets off to Italy to the AlphaTauri headquarters, leaving them both feeling oddly sad at the parting.

“But you’re excited to be going back?” She smiled, pulling her vest stop back on, “yeah, I can’t wait.” Daniel responded. The pair had been talking away, like always, about Daniels return to F1. “Excited to go to Italy too.” He added on.

“Looks pretty.” The HQ for AlphaTauri was there, so he’d be flying away until he got back to Hungary for the Grand Prix. She couldn’t like she was somewhat saddened that their two day romp had ended. They’d spent the past two nights together. “You ever been?”

“Hm?” She perked, stepping back into her jeans. “Have you ever been to Italy?”

“No, that’s the one place I’m literally desperate to go, every time there’s been a race I’ve some how missed it.” We’ll have to go, Daniel thought a little too quickly.

“Whattt, you’ve never been?!” She smiled at his dorky response. “Never.”

“You’re missing out.” He sat up from the messy bed where they had practically lived the past 48 hours. The bedsheets were dishevelled as he climbed out, grabbing a discarded shirt off the floor. It was 4pm and they’d been in bed, all day. “I know… I gotta go so bad.” She clipped her hair back, revealing the purple and red bruises Daniel had sucked into her neck.

“You’re gonna wanna hide those…” he sheepishly pointed out. As amusing as it was, he also was proud of his markings, very immature, he knew, but it reminded him of the endless pleasure the two brought one another.

“Oh, fuck you, Ricciardo…” ———————————————-

The group of them all sat around in the hotel lobby, relaxing as they waited on their transfer to the airport. It was all civilised conversations until Christian and Geri took the younger three kids to get food whilst y/n chilled with the rest of the people, stretched out on the plush couch. “So, you had a girl round last night?” Max questioned Daniel, nudging his side as both Daniel and y/n felt like they could choke on their own spit. “Huh?” Daniel coyly spoke, whilst she just remained eyeing them both up.

“I heard it all.” Max shrugged, holding up his hands. Daniels face flushed as he couldn’t hold back a laugh, rubbing over his forehead. “Not that was doing that on purpose.” Max grimaced as she pursed her lips, finding the situation all too amusing.

“I mean she seemed to be enjoying herself, so go you.” The Dutch man continued as she couldn’t help but snort out a laugh. “Sorry, I just… I overheard that’s all.” Daniel shot her an amused smile whilst half his face was hid. The eyes she gave him back, mixed with that pretty little smirk was filthy. Daniel wondered if she was glad Max heard, he had no idea that it was her.

When the transfer came, she felt a little disappointed at the small hug she gave Daniel. She’d wished for a kiss or some kinda kind words, but that would’ve been way too obvious. “Have a safe trip.” He muttered to her, hand purposefully giving her back a squeeze, desperate to give her a proper goodbye. He knew he was in way too deep, the fact he felt down about parting from her for a mere week? Worst of all, he’d text her, saying he wished he could give her a real goodbye, something that made her smile to herself and her father to question who was making her giggle like that. “Nobody.” She’d replied, fingers pressing into her keys below. You gave me the best goodbye in the hotel room so idk what you’re talking about Daniel, too, found himself smiling to his phone like a teenager. When his eyes rested on her small picture set to her icon, he felt his heart soften, the smell of her perfume still clinging to his top she’d worn only hours prior. He wore it purposefully.

“Messaging ya girlfriend?” The chaperone cheeked as he glanced up to the Frenchman ahead of him.

“Ah, someone like that…”

[sgiandubh]

For no particular reason: Lola's homemade chocolate

Today is Lola the Corgi's presumed birthday. We chose it approximately, while at the vet's, because Lola's story is nothing short of a canine miracle. She jumped in my cab, somewhere in the humble outskirts of Bucharest, on Saint Nicholas' Day. The driver asked, absurdly, if that was 'my dog' and I simply answered 'well, now it is'.

Little did we know the shaking, stone cold and scared to death puppy was a very rare Cardigan Corgi - this came later, when a British friend was amazed at the recovery and pointed it out adamantly. She could have been stolen or simply lost, but we will never know and we never looked back.

All our dogs had Spanish names (except for cats, always boys and always Pasha, namesakes of a beloved Shipper Mom's childhood pet), simply because they are easy to learn and remember. In her case, Lola is for...

for well... for obvious locomotion reasons 🤣 #LolaFlores. Twelve years with a supremely intelligent and empathic friend deserved a batch of my homemade chocolate, don't you think?

Too bad she can't try it. But enough babbling, here goes.

You will need: 2 cups/ 250 grams milk powder - I recommend Nestlé's Carnation, if you can't get hold of Rarăul, the obscure, Communist local brand (so damn good); 2 sticks/200 grams full fat butter (I recommend Irish butter, always with excellent results), at room temperature, cubed; 7 Tablespoons/50 grams cocoa (Dutch, if you can, but I prefer either Ghirardelli or the Greek Ion brand, which I think are the best on this planet); 2½ cups/ 500 grams Demerara sugar (or caster sugar). A dash of instant coffee, for decorating. You can replace sugar by stevia sweetener (measure accordingly - I used this, because I was also cooking for a severe diabetic who can't control herself), with very good results. Optional: crushed tea biscuits or cookies in the US/chopped hazelnuts/pine nuts/walnuts/peanut butter (in swirls) - sky is the limit. For the adult version, feel free to add a hefty swig of brandy/rhum/whisky/bourbon/vodka/limoncello or hey, let's be totally dirty (sssh!), Bailey's.

In a nonstick pan, gently simmer 3/4 cup or 170 ml cold water with ALL the sugar. Stir nonstop (only with wooden spoon or silicone spatula, never metal - it lends a foul taste!) until you get a sort of thin syrup - basically the sugar should dissolve, nothing more. 2 to 3 minutes should be enough.

Add the cubed butter, stir gently until it melts and incorporates completely. 10 minutes max, but never stop stirring!

Take the pan off the heat. Gently pour dry milk in small batches, stirring and incorporating continuously. It should immediately thicken, sticky fudge consistency.

Gently mix the cocoa, with slow, ample bottom/top movements (you don't want it anywhere else but in that pan, for sure). Right consistency should be a thick ribbon, pouring from the spoon.

Back to the heat for about 30 to 45 seconds, stirring all the time. I have no idea why, but my grandma always insisted it was very important, go figure. Take off the heat and immediately add the nuts and (if you choose) the alcohol, mixing vigorously.

Pour into a well buttered loaf tin. Dust with instant coffee. Let cool, put into fridge for 6 hours minimum (overnight is better). Only cut with a wet knife. Devour and don't think about the damn calories.

I am sorry for the very, very old pic (2010, I think). Tonight, it was impossible to take a proper one 😱.

This is what we do call 'homemade chocolate' all over Eastern Europe, but to be honest, it's rather some very, very good fudge. The dry milk is a dead giveaway of the real age of the recipe, which is around 1945 - postwar rationing, of course.

You are welcome. You won't regret the 45 minutes you're likely to spend making it.

[dashuri5432]

what I realistically think op characters ethnicities are

-Luffy: indigenous Brazilian (with a slight Portuguese and African mix in there)

-nami: Saami (native people of northern Scandinavia) this makes a lot of sense to me since many Sami people were tragically murdered (like namis parents) and had there children taken away. to put this into simple terms, namis parents were killed and then nami became and orphan and grew up on an Aegean island (agriculture similar to cocoyasi village)

zoro: Mongolian (got really lost as a child and ended up in Japan)

usopp: south Sudanese but grew up in South Africa(because there’s a lot of Dutch settlers there due to colonization and there were a lot of white people in syrup village)

sanji: half german half Syrian, Germa was based off Germany but sanji does use arabic words and makes “simsim cream” (sims in means sesame in Arabic) he was born in Germany but ran away and ended up in northern France (in my heart he’s 100% Albanian but this is supposed to be realistic not hcs)

Robin: native Siberian specifically nenet, similar to what I said about the Sami and nami earlier, many siberians went though genocide just like in robins backstory and how all her people were whipped out. (Robins also has a very Siberian/turkic look in my opinion coming from a 🇰🇿 girl)

Franky: Dominican that grew up in north eastern America

brook: African American from Louisiana (I can’t really explain this one it just feels right) (also brooks love for music and a lot of music types came from black Americans)

Jinbe: Indian Fijian (this one is also hard to explain it just feels so right)

extra ->

law: Sinti Romani (a big group of Romanis mainly located in Germany) btw this one is mainly due to looks bcz there’s no way in hell law is a white German lmaoo that boy is BROWN

[variabels]

Some Blue Lock beta designs part 1

Take the notes with a grain of salt cuz I'm translating from a translation and despite having lived most of my life in French-speaking countries, going to French school and speaking French most of my life, my French is still ass. Please let me know if there are any mistakes.

Don't repost without credit.

Part 2 tomorrow cuz Imma watch football now (I'm one of those rare fans on tumblr who actually watch it).

Feminine face.

Fast player

Fastest peak speed without the ball.

Bad at everything else.

His only quality is his speed.

Frail build

Not very fierce/wild despite his appearance (T/N: a bit confused about this one tbh)

Hides his emotions

His mother coddles him. His feelings towards her are ambiguous. He would like to be independent.

It's why he doesn't want to go back home. He's happy to have met many different players. He doesn't want to be his mother's toy anymore.

Kind-hearted and passionate

His way of thinking is very similar to bushido (T/N: bushido translates to "way of the warrior", it was the code of conduct of the samurai/bushi class of feudal Japan, it values being loyal and obedient to a master while valuing honor over life)

In general, he looks like a good guy, but he can be a bit dry towards others.

He's intelligent and brilliant, but he's not a prodigy. It's because of his awareness of that fact that he's looking for a way to surpass geniuses.

Cunning and sharp speaker.

He plays football for the money.

Mixed Dutch-Japanese (T/N: explains all the orange)

Physical player

Boor with iron muscles.

Savage player lacking technique.

Pretty boy full of freshness and a bit mischievous.

A bit like Mr Imamura (T/N: not sure which Imamura he's referring to here)

He only thinks about pleasing and going out with pretty girls.

He likes flirting with tourist guides.

He appreciates everything that's fun, loves girls and brags about being the man capable of putting in the most effort in the world to get what he wants. (He's a hardcore flirter)

Extremely jaded.

Striker good at scoring while putting in the least amount of effort.

He's perceptive and knows how to surprise his opponents.

He'll stop at nothing to win and hates Japanese football.

Individualist striker.

Extremely sadistic genius midfielder. He's looking for a striker that's at least as creative as him.