#it's keeping me accountable. I go 'am I going to draft this one with one really simple image? ' 'no I'll just look for the id or id it'

[gachaparadise]

ahhh the Penacony leaks are really coming in now.

*chuckles* I'm in danger.

[fastfists]

Just putting this here for anyone new to this blog, I try not to ignore partners or such...but sometimes my brain latches on to specific things it wants to answer or such, that and I can be a bit slow to respond to things. This doesn't mean however I do not wish to write with you...I just am like a snail in molasses caught in a tar pit type slow. You are always and I mean always welcome to send in asks or respond to open post or even just tag me in shit. I love that. I wanna write with you all so much. Love you guys ;3

[holdingcaulfields]

not to ventpost or anything but

[princesspeach5]

made a blog to put posts into instead of drafting them and it's working great so far

[chaepink]

(re-sent) hello dear! i just found your account and i adore your content, i don't usually bump into writers with preferences for femdom!readers and i'm here for it! keep it up ‹3

could i bother you requesting a drabble/oneshot for fem!softdom!reader x sub!tenya iida? in which reader decides to go to tenya's dorm just to find him enjoying some alone time (since he missed reader so much), he thinks they're going to get intimate, but reader tells him to continue as she watches (ocassionaly kissing his cheeks/earlobe and marking his neck). iida might get a little too desperate for touch so he starts begging for a hand or two for help, he can't do it without her. (reader calls tenya: "baby", "hun", "iida". tenya calls reader "baby", "darling") plus: he's a soft moaner ‹3

i hope this isn't too much! no hurries in writting this, i hope you have a nice day/night! —♡ (i made a few subtle changes, i hope you don't mind!)

Your Own Private Show | sub!iida tenya

wc: 740+ words | masterlist

dom!reader, fem!reader, consensual voyeurism, masturbation, begging, pet names, marking

note : i am SO sorry that this took so long, it got lost in my drafts 😭

"ah!- f-fuck.. [name] please!" You and your hand hovering over the doorknob freezes. Is iida?...

Your heartbeat quickens as the noises keep flooding your ears from iida's room. Whines, sobs, pleas. He adds your name to each and every single one of them. He's begging for you.

With bated breath, you quietly and slowly open the door and holy shit was you not ready for the view on the other side of the door. As if he is posing for a portrait, his head is thrown back, his cheeks are flushed, and his body is exposed as he sits on the bed. His legs are spread almost as if he was used to it. And well, he rather is.

He looks absolutely breathtaking.

And well, the thing that takes your breath away the most is the thing right between his legs.

His cock was red and there was a little pre-cum on the tip. Iida's hand was rapidly stroking it and it looked absolutely sinful.

You can't help but walk in, attracting your boyfriend's attention. He whines as you continue to stare at him, his hand stopping.

"p-please..." You raise an eyebrow.

"Please what? Please help you with your little problem?" He whimpers at you. "Aw," you say with a feign pout, "is my iida all hard and horny?"

Iida shivers at how possessive you sound as you say the word 'my'. He nods as he looks up at you with pleading eyes, silently begging you to help him.

You walk over to him, making sure to take your very time. You stop right in front of him, eyeing him up and him. Iida's breath hitches as you duck down towards his ear. Your hot breath makes him shiver and he lets out another whine.

"How about you put on a little show for me first, baby?"

Iida's freezes and as realization dawns on him that you won't be touching him anytime soon, he pouts at you. He reaches to try to grab your hand but you manage to dodge his grasp. He lets out a yearning whine.

You shush him with a finger to his mouth, silencing him. He stares at you with pleading eyes, his hand still wrapped around his dick.

You lean towards his neck, slowly biting and sucking on it. Iida lets out a soft moan when you bite down rather harshly, making sure it'll bruise for a few days.

His body trembles as you continue to suck and lick his neck, leaving a trail of marks.

With a hand placed on his hips, you begin touching his body all over but making sure to avoid his dick and other sensitive parts.

"Go on, Iida. Touch yourself." Iida hesitates a little but starts to slowly touch his dick. Even though he's embarrassed to do this in front of you, the pleasure pushes away that thought and he begins to shamelessly bucking his hips into his hand.

Little 'ah's and 'please's fill the room along with his whines and pleas for you to touch him.

"T-Touch me, darling. P-Please!" You chuckle a little.

"But i'm already touching you, darling. Or is it here you want me to touch?" You raise an eyebrow at him as you point towards his aching dick. He nods frantically at you and you coo at him. He continues fucking into his fist but you start to see tears well up in his eyes.

One of your hands goes to touch his dick and Iida lets out a whine. It doesn't take long until iida is begging you to cum with moans and whines that follow after. Your hand replaces his hand on his dick as Iida's hips begin to jerk into your hand, desperate to chase after his release.

After a while without you, he feels as if his orgasm is coming quicker than usual and before he could warn you, he cums all over his chest and your hand.

Eyes wide and chest heaving, iida flushes red at how quick he came but when you continue to pump his dick, he gasps.

"Baby w-wait." His shaky hands try to push your hand off his dick but it doesn't budge. Rather, you just speed up your movements.

"You wanted me to touch you, right?" You give him a grin that makes Iida's dick twitch and a whimper to leave him. "Well be a good boy and sit still for me, I'm not done yet."

ty for reading to the end! ❤ - chaepink

╰┈➤ masterlist | rules

[tinydefector]

TINY-DEFECTOR WORK MASTERLIST

RULES BELOW ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

REQUEST & ASK OPEN

Please feed me request they are keeping me sane.

information

1. I WRITE M/M GENDER NEUTRAL READERS OR CANON CHARACTERS I WILL WRITE TRANS MALE.

I am not a Fem writer

2. have the right to not do request if I don't want to.

3. I get a large number of requests, and sometimes they get lost in my inbox.

4. Every three months I will do an inbox clear out. And will save what I'm working on into my drafts.

5. I write as a hobby to keep myself busy.

Fandoms I write:

Transformers

Batfamily DC

it's been a long while since i've written on tumblr. I lost my last account, but I'm hoping to get back into writing fics or oneshots again. Mainly going to be Writing Transformers.

What I write for:

Transformers - Bumblebee

Transformers- ROTB

Transformers Prime

Transformers Gen 1

Transformers Mtmte, IDW

Transformers Skybound

Transformers Earthspark

Transformers One

Character list and links below ⬇️⬇️⬇️⬇️

Requests & ask Rules:

I don't tend to close my request unless I get over 30+ of them.

- 1 character per request if you want a longish one shot fic.

- you can make requests for multiples with scenarios but but I tend to keep them short with a few headcannons added in.

- Specify if you want a continuation of a previous fic.

- I will do both human and Cybertronian and occasionally Experimental monster readers.

-if requesting Cybertronian for smut, they have both a valve and spike as I write all Cybertronians with both parts, all cybertronian characters I write have both parts. (I will accept request with the fem bots, I just don't write Fem readers)

- your more than welcome to ask for NSFW, SFW, Angst, fluff and all sorts. I'm pretty chill. All Smut and NSFW content is marked with #valveplug

I write: gender neutral, or Male characters, (I'm not good nor do I like writing fem character, I'm a guy, if I do get fem readers I'm going to write them as gender neutral)

I will do:

- Scenarios

- Yandere and possessive.

- family content

-disabilities (to the best of my knowledge)

- Fluff/Angst

- fearplay, mouthplay

-Vore: soft vore/ light vore (may experiment, but very light)

- NSFW, kink:

and Dub-con/ consensual Non-con

size kink 

skin fetish 

hair pulling 

Scent/ smell/ pheromones

Sex pollen/perfume.

silk and ribbon play

cum inflation 

breeding

pet play

Predator/prey

(On occasions will write Alpha/Omega/Beta, I write it rather differently to the classic AOB. But I will only write it on very rare occasions)

vore

fluid play and consumption (paint, energon, oil, cum, spit, lubricant,)

spiking warming

Heart and spark syncing 

new spike and Valve modifications to test on their human lover

(Just ask pretty much)

-Pregnancy

- death request are alright just keep it civil I won't go into details on the deaths.

- The AUs:

First Contact PotatooftheLand

Tasty AU of @callsign-relic

Energy fluid AU - (my silly energy drink transfluid ones)

Human effects series - (either characters for the main storyline or smut request spin off's just be specified)

Sparkeater AU

Human pet

Merformers

Wings of Primus AU

Domestic Cybertron AU

I will NOT do:

-Incest

-Pedophilia

- Self harm

-Minors (exceptions if they are children of the Bots and reader but only exception)

- Don't get angry if I'm not willing to write fem characters, I'm a guy, and I tend to stick with trans content, M/M, or gender neutral, but I'm leanent but respect my boundaries.

Slightly iffy:

- death of parents (I recently lost my mother in an accident so please be aware I that things one's sometimes I won't do due to my own feelings on these fics, while other time I may because it gives me comfort)

I enjoy making silly little one shots or even just sweet little things. I will eventually do up a master list for links once I make more stuff. (Pretty much anything you can think of up that alley I'm more than happy to do)

If you want a request of one who's not on the list, please submit it. These are just all the ones I can remember off the top of my head, people enjoy.

Ps I love writing silly little things too outside of the fics and even enjoy making art to go along with them when I feel up to drawing.

So nothing is too silly ask away over all the strange little things you want to know.

_________

DC masterlist

__________

All my art so far:

Tiny art dump

Art dump 2

My little spot for art

Art others have made off fics

_________

Works series

Marine Centre- Merformers Au

Human effects list

Transfluid headcannon

human and Cybertronian biology works

Rut cycle Masterlist

Kinktober 2024

______________________

Character list and links:

Arcee

Beachcomber

Blaster

Blurr

Brainstorm

Breakdown

Bumblebee

Bulkhead

Cyclonus

Drift

First aid

Ironhide

Jazz

Knockout

Megatron

Mirage

Optimus Prime

Perceptor

Pharma

Prowl

Ratchet

Rodimus

Rung

Starscream

Skyfire

Skywarp

Skids

Swerve

Soundwave

Shockwave

Swindle

Tailgate

Tarn

Tarantulas

Thundercracker

Ultra Magnus

Whirl

[toxicanonymity]

For context, a tumblr account has been posting anon hate for the past week or so, mostly toward writers. A parasocial hater of mine discovered the account and has been going to town. I posted this after they invoked Israel as an analogy. Yes really.

Obviously I am disgusted by what I just read, and floored that anyone would post such a deranged analogy in the interest of stirring up fandom drama. I'm very sorry to everyone who has been attacked and everyone who has witnessed all this. Others have posted about the situation as a whole, and I'm not sure what I could add. But I want you to know many of these "confessions" are from one individual who has been fixated on me (and probably others) for weeks if not months. I already had the following in my drafts:

warning: please don't read this if you're sensitive to hate or could be triggered by the trivialization of real abuse. (edit: they went on to trivialize genocide too but they'll pretend to be different people). there's also a really gross anatomical reference.

the screenshots are all after I blocked them.

I normally don't address things like this, but that's because I'm trying to keep it off your dash and off my blog (for several reasons including not wanting to give the hate a larger audience for their message). Normally I block/delete. But thanks to a blog dedicated to posting anon hate, some of this is already on the dash, and I thought some additional context could be illuminating.

a couple weeks ago, this person chimed in on my non-fandom post, and their comment made me uncomfortable. I checked to see if they followed me and they didn't, plus their blog tagline was antagonistic. I was confident they weren't being earnest. I replied, pointing out my issue with their comment and asking them to keep their thoughts to themselves rather than coming at me from a sideblog. I thought they must have followed me from a main account since they somehow found an untagged, unreblogged post without following me. But I now realize they were simply hate checking my blog.

(Blocked the burner too)

They were saying this last bit preemptively - I've never talked about stalkers here. I didn't include all their anons, just enough to show they clearly out themselves as being the same person. In other "confessions," they make repeated references to a former fandom writer they idolize (not me) who they also posted about on their blog.

I won't be dropping this creep's url in this post, but I had never heard of them. This week they have repeatedly changed their url, display name, and blog appearance. Their writing is recognizable and I believe they are responsible for the unhinged asks preceding katy's departure from tumblr. They also made a rude comment on her post.

This may only aggravate them. I expect them to hurl any lies and accusations they can think of toward me. They will act like they're laughing and amused, too. You may recognize their tone. I want to trust this fandom not to believe and repeat anything they hear, but unfortunately my experience in this fandom leaves me pessimistic.

I can only hope people use common sense at this point.

Note - I know I'm normally really private about everything, but you're welcome to share this. Their lies are already out there anyway. Also feel free to DM me and I will tell you what you want to know.

Update: the anon-hate account referred to above has deactivated. It was named pedgeconfessions. It wasn't the first to pop up this summer and may not be the last.

[sweatervest-obsessed]

Spencer Blurb!

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

WC: 500

A/N: I am in the trenches with finals rn so I needed something positive to think about as well as a distraction from what I should be doing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m starting to realize why people commit murder.” You grumbled to yourself. 

Honestly, you were a sight to see. You had claimed the living room of your apartment with Spencer and books were everywhere. Your laptop was front and center and papers were scattered about as if a storm had come through. 

Spencer peeked his head out of your bedroom, eyebrows furrowed. “I’m sorry, what.” 

The frustrated sigh that left your lips almost knocked the curiosity right out of him. 

“It’s just…” 

Spencer had met you in the Boston Public Library, where you had been writing a paper for one of your classes, and you couldn’t find the statistics you needed. Enter Lover Boy with all your answers. He was only nineteen, completing his third Bachelors over at MIT and you were a sophomore over at Harvard, studying psychology. You were slated to graduate a whole year early, but it wasn’t your intellect that drew Spencer to you, it was your charm, the way you spoke your mind. 

You said anything and everything to him, and he wanted to listen to every single thing you said. You started dating six months later. You ended up following him down to DC a little while after that, and supported him while he completed his first Doctorate. You loved living with him, even when his life got hectic, even when he decided he wanted to go fight crime for a living. 

So when six years later, you’re working on your Ph.D at Georgetown, and you said you understood why people murdered others, Spencer wasn’t sure he wanted to keep listening. 

“Just what.” He walked over and sat down next to you, taking into account the four cups of coffee, three mugs of tea, a banana, two empty Panera bags, and a myriad of gum wrappers. “When’s the last time you left the apartment?” 

“Like a week ago, when I wasn’t trying to finish my fucking draft of my dissertation. I don’t know how the fuck you did this Spence.” 

Spencer kissed your head and took your hand. “Why don’t you go to the library or something. Get out of here for a bit. Go on a walk.” 

“I’d go to the library if you came with me.” You smirked a little bit as you fixed his tie, causing his cheeks to blush at the memories you were reminding him off. 

“Thats–that’s not what I meant.” 

“That’s why I suggested it.” You kissed his cheek, and looked back at your laptop, the moment of joy on your face disappearing. “Can’t you take the day off Spence?” 

He started to shake his head, but then saw just how exhausted and overworked you were. “I—give me a minute.” 

Spencer kissed your head and went into the bedroom, where you heard him make a call to Hotch, claiming he needed the sick day. 

You smiled and started to clean up your space, excited to spend the day away from your work, and with your favorite person.

[anemoiashifts]

2025 shifting & general pick an object reading.

────୨ৎ────

regarding those of you who are seeing this on tiktok, this will possibly be one of my last posts / readings on this account considering tiktok is going away in my country on the nineteenth of january. tiktok won’t just go poof overnight so ill still be active for a little while in the form of replying to comments / interacting. i can’t say with certainty that you’ll see any posts from me anymore. i do have some drafted, but no promises that they’ll be completed in time. so, thank you thank you thank you for the support ive received over the past year & a half. this platform is a privilege that i am forever grateful for. im so grateful to be entrusted with a sliver of your shifting journey — something so sacred & personal — & i only wish all of you (tiktok or tumblr) success. i will always be your digital cheerleader to anyone who may need one, even if you don’t see me. i hold this part of my life close to my heart & want to restate how grateful i am. again, thank you. goodbye. this is going yo be really embarrassing if tiktok doesn’t go away but i still stand by it whatever the outcome may be.

i do have a instagram, tumblr & youtube all by the same name if you’d like to continue to see shifting content from me.

disclaimer !! if someone doesn’t resonate, please please don’t change yourself or alter yourself to fit a description. i do tons of shifting readings — at the top of every month — & you’ll have another shot at finding something that resonates. ✧˖°.

hope everyone is having a nice first day of the new year ! this reading is a little different from my others considering i laid it out differently then my others. maybe ill keep it ? maybe i won’t ? tell me what you think please. okay ! here’s the reading :)

ring. 𖢻

— welcome ring people !

ferris wheel, velvet curtains, cracked cd / jewel cases, a house in nebraska by ethel cain.

❥ self & shifting.

i will briefly allude to this below & maybe it will provide some more content, but you seem to be shifting out of hate for this reality then anything else. maybe it’s not even complete total hatred, but when you are stressed or going through a tough situation you often find yourself saying “I want to shift”. you may be experiencing a lack of motivation for anything at the moment & i do see that improving if the first few steps to achieve your goals are taken. if you struggle to put moisturizer on before bed, leave some on your beside table. in subtle ways this year, you can start to find that “spark” again if you put your mind to it. the second half of twenty twenty five will be where you start to see progress, if you put in the hard work. let yourself see parts of yourself that you previously hid away from yourself, even if uncomfortable.

❥ difficulties.

you want to change, but don’t know where to start. you’ve gotten yourself in a hole far to deep to climb out of, you tell yourself. there’s this nagging voice in your head that keeps dragging you back into your comfort zone. while you are acknowledging that this isn’t the way you’d like to live anymore, this mental place feels like all you know. you could struggle with chronic pessimism / negative thinking patterns & don’t believe that you are capable of achieving possible goals you’ve thought about setting for yourself. but you’re wrong & you are. you cling so desperately to what you feel is a little bit of hope that you can turn things around & you more then can. please be mindful of your thoughts & give yourself some grace. it may seem easier to continue like this, but does it do more harm then good ?

flowers. ❀

— hello flower pile.

peppermint ice cream, black door knobs, the personality type istp, water sign energy.

❥ self & shifting.

as you step into the new year, you may notice your opinions are changing. it could be as simple as preferring silver jewelry over a lifetime of being committed to only wearing gold. in different case, it could be related to your desired reality. maybe you’ve been a walking dead shifters for five years & you’ve fallen out of love with it. now, you’ve discovered narnia & are fully committed to it & no longer feel a connection with your hypothetical walking dead dr. & that’s okay ! there will be a lot of changes for you this upcoming year & embrace them. not all changes are bad & scary & will lead you to bigger & better things. allow yourself to not be bound to one idea too tightly.

❥ difficulties.

you may be someone who doesn’t have a lot of friends but craves community even if the thought terrifies you. you’re used to being alone & independent, i get it. you’re allowed to ask for help & will need to at some point. you can’t do everything all by yourself. yes, you may struggle to communicate with others & are feared of being judged but your voice is important. you’re someone who isn’t follower & embraces that you’re someone who is different from others. that’s something not everyone can do. you should be proud that you have that strength to not give into various pressures ! i promise, you’ll find your people. you may just not be looking in the right place. no more of watching life from the sidelines. you deserve better then that. your sensitivity is not a weakness but a strength.

butterfly. 𐦍

— happy new year butterfly pile.

paper airplanes, witchy style brooms, lemonade, april 20th.

❥ self & shifting.

you’re going to be so successful this year. like wow. im picking up on financial successes specifically, but really its in all forms of successes. perhaps a new job or some sort of inheritance ? or you could maybe be shifting to a place with money involved like a fame or nepo baby dr ?

whatever the case may be, your goals will be met. i could see you wanting to get more into healing work. going (back) to therapy or learning to become more aware of what is the source of your emotions when in high stress situations. also being more in control of your emotions. you could find yourself getting more into meditation or even something like yoga, maybe.

❥ difficulties.

you do have some growing up to do. you hold a very hyper independent, mature side & at the same time there’s a very child-like aspect to you. that itself isn’t an a bad thing but you find yourself constantly feeling behind your peers due to how childish (in terms of interests & lack of experiences) you think you are. you feel unaccomplished, pathetic even. you have a mindset of “i am great or nothing at all”. which isn’t true. despite flickers & bursts of motivation, you often give up on projects half way through because you don’t think they can compare to the people around you. the hardest part will be picking yourself back up & pushing past those thoughts despite wanting to give up. you are not behind. perhaps your parents could’ve sheltered you a little too much, but know everyone moves at a different pace.

[discotitsposts]

my little secret

reader x mgg

she/her pronouns used (but you can imagine whatever you want)

reader has a secret tumblr account where she writes fanfiction about her husband

mature themes.

Matthew Gray Gubler walks around his house. Looking for his wife. She was nowhere to be found. He knocks on her office door. He knows she may not hear because sometimes she plays music loudly in her headphones so he opens the door and steps in. He sees her bopping her head to whatever song she may be playing and typing rapidly. He smiles at the sight.

Since the door to the office was behind her, she doesn’t see him creep up behind her. Perfect opportunity for a spooky scare. He’s about to scare her when he notices what she’s doing on her computer.

She’s on Tumblr. Typing up what looks to be a long story? He knows she’s an author but wow. Her fingers move extra fast over the keyboard and he senses inspiration was hitting her over and over.

Then he sees what she’s writing. A few lines stick out to him.

“He slipped his length inside of her slowly.”

“Her dripping heat.”

“She moans out, ‘Spencer�� and grips the blankets.”

She’s writing a smut story on Tumblr with a character named Spencer? Out of the ordinary. He thinks. She’s stopped typing to think for a second. Now or never. He thinks.

“Boo!” He yells and touches her shoulders. She screams so loud and frantically tries to hide what she was writing. She clicks save on the draft and closes the page.

“Whatcha writing.” He smirks knowing full well what she was doing.

“What..N..Nothing.” She stammers and stands up. “I’m gonna get a snack. Want anything.”

Matthew looks at the empty chair and sits down and opens Tumblr to see what she had written.

She screams, “NOO!! Don’t look at that.”

He laughs while going onto her blog. It’s a Spencer Reid fan account. She had revealed little details like her name and favorite music, but hadn’t notified her followers of her marriage to a certain man. She had also written fanfiction about Spencer that was, accurate, in terms of the size of a certain body part.

He clicks on a post with his name in it. It reads, Do you guys think Matthew Gray Gubler brushes his teeth in the shower?

“Hey, that was ONE time!” He says out loud.

She scoffs, “Twice, actually.”

Another one, a photo of his lap zoomed in on the crotch with the caption, “His wife must be happy.”

“She is.” He says out loud. She is absolutely mortified at his findings.

He keeps reading. Spencer, Spencer, Himself, Spencer.

“So you love Spencer more than you love me?” He jokingly pouts.

“Yeah I’m planning on leaving you for Spencer Reid. We’re running away together tonight.” She jokes back.

“I won’t let you!” He dramatically stands up and grabs her. They both hear a loud cry from upstairs.

“Someone’s hungry.” She says and leaves to the kitchen to get her baby’s bottle. Matthew goes upstairs to comfort their daughter. When his wife comes upstairs, the sight is so beautiful it should be framed.

Matthew’s in the rocking chair in the nursery holding his daughter and gently cradling her while she’s fussing. He’s whispering a poem to her. He sees his wife walk in and she hands him the bottle.

“There you go baby, see, you were just hungry sweetie.” He speaks in a voice sweeter than honey. He smiles down at her. When she falls asleep in his arms he brings her back to the crib and lays her down. Meanwhile, his wife puts on a relaxation cd that has lullabies, soft sounds and ocean waves. They exit the room quietly.

“Back to Tumblr I presume.” He smiles. “I thought you were supposed to be working on your next book.”

“I am, it’s just something on the side to keep my skills fresh.” She replies.

“Does the publishing company know about this ‘extracurricular activity’ of yours?” He takes her arm and they walk back to the office together.

“No, like I said it’s just something fun. Testing the waters.” She slips back into her chair and opens Tumblr again.

Matthew comes up right behind her and whispers in her ear. “I’m never letting you live this down.” He runs away but she grabs the water gun on her desk and chases him with it.

the end (they lived happily ever after)

just a silly little story

this man deserves a child i had to include him w a baby

@whoisspence this is one of the fics i was talking abt

[kaelie-quill]

Writeblr Intro

This feels super awkward to do but I'm putting myself out there for better or worse, so! I go by Kaelie on here, I am 22, Queer, and go by she/her pronouns. I've been on writeblr on and off since I was maybe fifteen but haven't touched it in four years. I am now 22 and for most of those four years I have been plagued by my current WIP, currently called Project Genesis. I've only just recently forced myself to really sit and try to get it out of my head.

I'm kind of ashamed to admit that the only book I ever finished was a warrior cats fan fiction I wrote when I was twelve (It was like forty chapters, I wrote it by hand in a notebook and I let someone take it home and read it one time and it haunts me) Everything since then has either been abandoned and never even made it out of the planning stage.

For the last four years I've been super stressed and in a super bad mental state and had no time to truly sit and try to write anything and if I did I thought it was absolute trash and it kinda made me hate writing. I even stopped reading despite being obsessed with books from the moment I could read, but in the last year and a half I have rediscovered my love for reading and now I want to try writing again.

Project Genesis is meant to be a multi-book high fantasy series with horror elements (maybe, I've not read many horror books and have little experience writing it. Any tips on writing horror, or good horror books to read would be much appreciated) It's got alternating POVs, basically everybody is queer, lots of religious imagery (maybe only if you squint, but I swear sometimes I feel like I'm just ripping off the Bible)

Despite existing for almost for almost four years its hard to describe what it's actually about? The first book at least is a dual POV about one character denying and running from their destiny to avoid becoming a sacrificial lamb, and another character trying to carve out a destiny for himself when he's not meant to have one (not in a 'he's supposed to be dead' way but in a 'you're life isn't supposed to have any affect on the world' kinda way)

It is currently in early planning stages, I'm working on a zero draft and outline before really hunkering down to try a first draft. I don't know how this is gonna go as far as like updates? I'm really just kinda using this as motivation, like if I talk about and say I'm doing it I can keep myself accountable and not just drift away from this like so many others. I expect it to all be horrible but so long as it's something I can go back and make it better. Thanks for reading! 👋🏻

[solarpunkani]

hi would like to make this clear that this is gonna be an unhinged rant about my college classes.

For context, one of my classes is a semester-long group project (hell) and I pitched the idea of solar powered community fridges to my group and we rolled with it. Here's a post i made on it previously. We don't have to make the fridges themselves, basically just talk about the problem our concept addresses (food insecurity in this case) and how we think this concept would work and how, in a hypothetical reality where we made it real, we would test to see if it worked.

Anyways we had to post the rough draft of our presentations so people in other groups could see what we were doing and comment on them with their thoughts and all. Yknow. Classic 'college class discussion board have to reply to at least one project with quality feedback' stuff. And

Man.

I am so frustrated.

Highlights:

My group keeps insisting that we should have an app for the solar fridges. I don't know why they think app design needs to fit into community fridges but they put it into the draft posted to the forum.

In this case they proposed the app would be kinda like Instacart? Where people who want to donate to the fridges but don't have groceries on them and don't feel like going to get groceries can put in money and then people will then go buy the groceries to put in the fridge. Or use the funds to help with fridge maintenance. And the fridges would have 'QR codes, links, etc. to connect community members for the common cause of helping tackle food insecurity in the community.'

Lots of the comments were pretty good! People liked the idea. There were some concerns about insulation and keeping things cool with low energy cost (the program is online but the college itself is in Georgia USA so many people are in Georgia) but yknow.

But the frustrating part to me I guess is that a lot of people seem convinced that people would use the fridges 'unfairly' and that we'd need to find a way to restrict how much food people can take out or how many times they can use it or something. Which frankly in my opinion defeats the purpose of it being a community fridge. Here are some examples of things people have said so far (comments are due tomorrow evening but I'm mad now so I'm venting now):

One student said "How will you know if the pantry is being utilized fairly?" and "How will the app work? In a dream world, this might be a way to help with tracking and accountability. (Just a thought…) Maybe folks would need to sign up on the app, they get a code… and the fridge acts as a sort of vending machine to deliver what they need. This would give you data to measure success. :)"

Which. I just. This feels completely antithetical to the purpose of a community fridge??? Or a community anything???? Little free pantries and little free libraries don't operate on a 'you get a code to access it once' vending machine basis?? We even mentioned community farm stalls/community pantries in the draft write up! And showed examples!

Another student said "Great thoughts. I am concerned about one person taking all the food for themselves. It might be a great idea to have them in an enclosed area with access control through the app that would log and lock out people who are overusing the resource. Perhaps a barcode could be added to Apple Wallet to track each individual's arrival? Possibly having a mechanized lock and opening mechanism that would only allow each fridge to be open for a specific time before automatically closing and locking? Each scan would only allow access once each 24-48 hour period, preventing "password sharing.""

I cannot emphasize enough that this is the comment that has brought me here today because with all due respect what the flying fuck do you think is the point of a community fridge! I'm already prickly about the idea of limiting access to the fridge itself to only people with cellphones, but to this degree?! Like maybe its because I'm the one who came up with the concept and I care about terms like 'mutual aid' and 'community building' and 'judgement free accessibility to food' but have these people not heard of the concept of helping people?!?! With no strings attached?!? If someone takes all the contents of a community fridge or pantry--which, seriously, how likely is that--they're probably hungry and need it! The concept of putting community resources behind a lock and limiting accessibility is just repulsive to me???

Like someone else commented with this excellent point--"As several have addressed above, I am also wondering how would you monitor use? If you use the simplicity of the honor system, it could easily be taken advantage of. However, I feel like if you were to create some sort of access code, how is it to say that they people needing the use of the fridge will have access to the necessary technology to get the code? It's a tricky situation to think about." For the purposes of this hypothetical assignment where we'd need to track how many people are using the fridges? Yeah I guess we'd need to be able to track how many people use it and when. But in reality??? In real life reality where people are living and struggling and hungry??? I just don't really give a shit!! Helping five people is better than helping none, and locking access behind technology everyone pretends is universal but really isn't is not the way to help!

And of course one of my groupmates is already commenting on all these posts like 'oh! I really like the idea of restricting access to a code! :)' even when someone said 'hey my family struggled with food insecurity when I was a kid and I think this would be helpful but not if you could only access it with an app some of the most vulnerable citizens wouldn't be able to access it I wouldn't have been able to access it' my groupmate was still like 'oh but that wouldn't be a problem today now would it? :) Maybe we should make a way to get a code without downloading the app :)' like maybe there shouldn't be an access code in the first place?!?!

Like am I crazy or like. What the fuck. Again I am here so I don't blow up on a bunch of masters students in a discussion post but like UGH

"you gotta be able to gague if the people who're using it are the people who actually need it" food insecurity can look so many different ways for so many different reasons and you can't always judge by appearances and income levels who is struggling to feed themselves or their families!! There are people who have nice jobs who are struggling because they're caring for sick family members or kids or dealing with student loans or ANYTHING! There are people with nice clothes who are trying to decide between buying groceries and paying rent! There are people living in their cars or couch surfing looking for jobs who also happen to own an XBox or a Laptop!!! "Sorry you can't access the community fridge because you don't look poor and needy enough to me. but if you do, good news--you can only use it once every 48 hours so make it last!" Bullshit utter bullshit.

I talk to people in my life about things like community fridges and little free pantries and mutual aid and the like and people are always like 'ok but theres gotta be strings attatched' BUT ACTUALLY NO THERE DON'T GOTTA!!! Maybe we could change how we view our fellow human beings and stop assuming that everyone around you are greedy little demons looking to ruin everything good and that you are the only holy and righteous saint on the streets who understands the concept of 'community resources' and 'sharing' maybe??? It's like that post about community fruit trees where people are like 'oh but what if people steal all the fruit' like HELLO? how do you STEAL a PUBLICALLY ACCESSIBLE RESOURCE

I'm tired of this goddamn class I'm tired of this goddamn group project if anyone actually has the ability to make a solar powered community fridge you have to promise to keep it accessible and not put it behind locks and QR codes and limited access and facial tracking BS promise me promise me promise me

[ultralightpoe]

Tiktok Trouble 3 - Jake Seresin

Authors Note: This had been sitting in my drafts for wayyyyy loo long and now that's it's out I feel terrible.

Word Count: 2742

Warnings: Hints at some steamy stuff but just fun other than that.

My MAIN Masterlist

Part One - - Part Two

(Thank you for the gif @unicornships )

Enjoy!

The first clip posted to his new tiktok account was an accident, one that remained nonetheless. 

It starts with the camera swinging back and forth, picking up a conversation being had behind it as whoever was holding the phone swung their hands out to walk. Jakes voice rings out “I’ll have you know-“ before the clip ends and the next starts. 

This time the camera is facing them and Jake is staring at the screen with narrowed eyes as Bob Floyd tries to explain it all. 

“So I press this button?” 

“Yes but it’s already recording.”

“How do you know it’s already recording?” 

“Because the ring around the button?” 

“What ring?” 

“Oh. My. God.” Natasha laughs off camera. “You are so losing to your wife. Can I get her in the divorce? Honest question.” 

“There will be no divorce!” Jake announces. “This park war ends in bloodshed.” 

“You been watching that Viking show again?” Rooster asks, coming into view with a disappointed look as Jake shrugs. 

“……yeah.” 

-  —-

COMMENTS:

“So pretty and still not a thought between those eyes.” 

“I’m on moms side in the divorce.” 

“You think he’s top or bottom?” 

“bottom fs”

-

You were in your shared bedroom, reading some book you had gotten today as Jake works around the kitchen, not really knowing what to do with himself on his day off. 

Then, like the genius he is, he realizes this would be the perfect time to prank you. So he starts setting up. 

First he hides his phone on the glass cabinet, giving it a wink before connecting his iPad to the speaker and hiding the speaker in a cupboard. 

He keeps the iPad close, beginning to peel potatoes before he yells loudly “Bubs! Can I get a hand?” 

And though you don’t yell back he hears your feet pad along the floors until you hit the stairs and come rushing to him. 

“Yeah?” You ask, moving to hug him from behind and kiss between his shoulder blades. 

“Can you start prepping the steaks? I got the marinade ready, I just need you to prep em.” He hears you hum and give his back one more kiss before moving to the cupboard to grab the larger plates. 

He quickly shoots out and hits play on the video he had pulled up. 

The second you open the cupboard door a horrific scream rings out like a demon and you jump back quickly, screaming yourself as you dash to hide beside him. 

Unable to help it he cackles, doubling over the counter at your scared face as you slowly piece together what just happened. 

“No way.” You gasp. 

“Uh huh. Got ya.” He smiles from ear to ear, winking. 

“You’re dead Seresin.” 

“Right back at ya, Seresin.” 

- 

COMMENTS:

“The way she runs to his side has me WEAK!” 

“the kiss between his shoulder blades??? SHAHNDJTN

“Aw! Look who learned how to use a phone!” 

-

Your retaliation comes 2 days later, at 3 am in the morning of course. 

You had been tossing and turning all night when you got the idea, slipping from the bed to grab your phone and bringing it with you as you shuffle to Jakes side of the bed. 

He was out, sleeping like the dead with his face shoved into the pillow and one arm tucked under it to keep it close while his other arm is spread to your side of the bed as if he was reaching for you even in sleep. The muscled expanse of his back is exposed, and the camera gets it all on flash as you lean forward to tap his skin softly and wake him up. 

“Bubs. Bubs.” You whisper, sounding panicked which makes him blink groggily. “The laundry bird came and took the goat.” 

“What?” He slurs, blinking so slowly you’re sure he’s going back to sleep. 

“Bubs come on. The grim reaper broke the washer.” 

“Fuck. Why?” He sounds so upset by the washer, even half asleep, you do your best to contain your laugh. 

“The ladybugs are meeting and we gotta go greet them.” 

“Okay..,.,” he moans, sitting up slightly, swiping at his face like he was actually getting ready to get up. “Okay.” 

“We gotta hurry before the balloon hits the ocean floor.” 

“Okay.” He sounds more determined now, sitting up. “Let’s go.” 

Then, ever the loving wife you switch up quickly. “Why are you up? Go to sleep.” 

“W-what?” He blinks, eyes half closed. 

“You were sleep talking. Go back to bed.” You mutter, and he blinks before nodding. 

“I’m sorry. Come lay with me.” 

-

COMMENTS:

“He was so confused lmao.” 

“Mans was fighting for his life in those blinks.” 

“The switch up has me dead.” 

“Aw. He said sorry to you like it was his fault.” 

-

It was rare that Jake ate McDonald’s, he was raised southern charm style and his mother hated the company. Homemade meals and southern drawls were the way to go. 

That being said there were days like today, both of you sweaty and irritated, and the only choice was McDonald’s. You both had been helping your parents move, which was stressful enough before you added the drama all your siblings brought to the table. 

And though Jake never wanted to talk crap about your family today he was extremely frustrated with them, mostly how they all seemed to be treating you like dirt and he could see you beginning to crumble which always upset him. 

He decided that you both needed a break as your brother began biting about an antique watch your father was trying to sell, claiming it should be his, and somehow someway it became your fault and a huge fight. 

So Jake took you out of the house, planning on getting you both food before you got too hangry, only to get more frustrated by the fact that the only non expensive restaurant in the area was McDonalds. And neither of you were dressed, nor had time for the other places. 

So you sat in silence while you ate and he could feel the anxiety and anger easing out of both of you, and when you went to the bathroom he figured it was time to lift the mood fully. 

He took the lid off your cup, stabbing the straw into the sauce cups lid and shoving it all in your drink before making sure your lid was back to normal. 

He filmed the process of course, and when you come back he claims to be checking emails from work as he films you hum softly before taking a big swig of your drink only to gag. 

A small laigh breaks out as you laugh yourself, panicking a bit as another gag takes over. 

“Don’t puke.” He laughs, and you cover your face before taking your napkin and sliding it along your tongue. 

“Absolutely not. What was that?” 

“No clue.” He laughs, and you roll your eyes but the smile on your face was ear to ear. 

“That was disgusting.” 

- 

COMMENTS:

“The way he laughs while she gags out a lung has me cackling!” 

“Not the Micky ds drink. Those are god tier.” 

“He’s kind of impressing me with the pranks.” 

-

Monday night is spent waiting for him to come home, still cranky with your weekend with your siblings and parents, sore and just not into life in general. 

You tried reading through some of the comments on your guys’ videos but those didn’t seem to help, you tried reading but the book you were reading was at a standstill and when you tried to clean the bathroom the bleach made you nauseated. 

Truth be told all you wanted was Jake. 

But you were his wife, which meant it was your actual job to torture him. And today you decided you would be torturing him. 

You hear his truck, filming yourself filling a spoon with salt and dipping it into the soup. 

When he comes in you smile. “Come taste this!” 

“How about I taste you….” He growls. 

“No bubs. I’m making dinner.” You huff, and he smiles before slurping the entire spoon into his mouth. 

He tries, he really does, blinking slowly before his face pinches up and he gags. He practically wretches, another gag falling from his lips as he leans over the sink to try and spit it out. Running the faucet and washing his mouth out the best he can. “Oh my god bubs,”

“It was that bad?” You ask, watching him. 

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to gag. I’m sorry bubs. I’m sorry.” He gags again, gulping down more water. 

You start laughing then, practically keeling over as he keeps washing his mouth out. 

“This…. This was a prank?” He sounds so betrayed that you feel a little bad laughing. “I….”

Then his face breaks into one of pure humor as he wheezes, laughing just as hard and moving closer to you until you are both wheezing in each other's faces. Just pure amusement. 

“I can’t br…eathe!” You laugh and he presses his forehead to your shoulder as he holds his ribs. 

- - - - 

COMMENTS:

“Just two people wheezing in eachothers faces lmao.”

“I want what they have.”

“Is no one gonna talk about him eating her comment???? Srsly?!”

- 

“Okay, so there is this couple on here right….” You start, staring at him. He keeps casting nervous looks to where your phone is set up to record you both. Like he was waiting for the prank. 

“Yeah?”

“And they basically dressed up as eachother for this song. Like he wore her clothes and she wore his and-”

“I’m in.” 

“Really? No arguing?” 

“No. You’ve got that excited look in your eye and I cannot refuse.” He laughs and you can’t help but clap your hands and jump up to dash upstairs which makes him laugh and snatch the phone. 

30 minutes later you both are trying to concentrate on making the video, Jake dressed in one of your dresses and barely managing to walk in the heels. 

He is bent over, his hand on his knees as he laughs, the dress groaning at each movement. “I can’t…. Shit-“ 

You are no better, dressed in his military uniform as you try to keep standing, barely breathing as you laugh. “Who….. who said marriage would be boring?” 

“My mother. On our wedding day. When she tried convince us not to get married!” He laughs at the memory, hand shooting out to catch you when you keel over from laughing. 

“Okay. Okay let’s do this.” He clears his throat and stands straight. You both film the video and while you post it you begin compiling the behind the scenes which does indeed have a clip of him bending over and the dress completely ripping down the middle. 

- - - - 

COMMENTS:

“Great googly moogly.” 

“His mom said what?????? Need a story time.” 

“How many times did I watch this? Yes.” 

- - - - - - 

It’s during a shopping day when he gets the idea, after being dragged from store to store over and over again. 

It was in the middle of a target when he decides to give you absolute hell, irritated by the fact that you were paying more attention to their lame bedding collections than him. 

“Hey…. I’m gonna go…. Look at something.” He mutters, kissing your cheek and walking away as you hum out. 

At first he shuffles through the men’s clothing section, getting nervous when a woman in lulu lemons gives him a wink as she shops for what he assumes is her husband. He dashes to the candles after that, sniffing at all of them before texting you “there’s a girl hitting on me in the candle section”. 

He takes a screenshot of it for tiktok before setting up his phone to film, waiting patiently. 

It takes you less than a minute, out of breath as you swing around the corner with a wild look. “Where?” 

“She went that way?” He lies, pointing.

“I'm gonna kill her.” You snap, fixing your hair. “And why are you just standing in the candle section? This is where single men stand to get laid, slut.”

“What, back track-“ 

“It’s like the most basic rule of target.” 

“There are dating rules for TARGET?!” He laughs. 

“You really need to get with the program.” You laugh, smacking his butt before waltzing off. 

He merely blinks at the camera in pure shock. 

- - - 

COMMENTS:

“Bahahahaha. I love her.” 

“She came ready for a fight.” 

“It is the most basic rule.” 

“Girl was so stressed she didn’t even bother to smell a candle.” 

- - - - 

“Hey Jake?” You call, standing in the bathroom as the phone records from the counter a little hidden from sight. You keep your voice on the closer end of panicked. 

You hear his phone shut off as he gets off the bed before he comes into sight with worried eyes. “What’s wrong Darlin?” He asks, reaching to rub your forehead in concern. 

“I can’t get my tampon.” You mumble. 

“Sorry?” 

“I can’t get find my tampon.” 

“What’s that mean?” 

“It’s stuck.” 

“Then pull it out.” 

“I’ve tried.” 

“Darlin’, doesn’t it have that like…. String?” 

“It broke off. I need help.” His eyes widen, eyebrows shooting up quickly and his face going red as he blushes. 

“O….okay.” He nods, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Yeah? You can help?”

“Anythin’ you need darlin’….” He mumbles, slapping his hands together. “Let’s do this.” 

“You sure?” 

“Y-yeah.” He nods. “I….. let’s do this.” 

“Okay…. Good because this was a prank.” You laugh which makes him splutter. 

“Oh thank Jesus, I was gettin’ panicked there. Not because it would be gross- but like- well I don’t know what the problem would be cause it’s not like we haven’ had period sex hundreds of times but- darlin’-“ 

“Jake Seresin is not a feminist everyone.” You laugh to the camera as he groans out. 

- -  - - 

COMMENTS:

“He would do it. He would kill for her.” 

“The way the southern accent comes out when he panics, lmao.” 

- - - - 

“Hey bubs! C’mere!” Jake calls, unscrewing the panel to the light from his spot on the step stool. 

His phone was set up to film him as you come into the room yawning, loudly as you swipe your eyes. “Hey bubs. I just need you to grab-“ 

He shakes his body, making it look like he got electrocuted as you scream out, rushing forward to grab at his thighs and try to help. 

“JAKE!” You scream, trying to pull him down. He starts laughing, hands covering his face as you breathe out. 

“Oh. That was so…. Oh my god.” 

“Oh bubs, you should have seen your face-“ 

“You’re sleeping on the couch tonight.” You snap, swiping the tears off your cheeks. “Wake me up from a nap just for that you son of a b-“ 

“Oh darlin’ no. I’m sorry.” He sighs. 

“I hate you!” 

- - - - 

COMMENTS:

“Oh that one hurt me-“ 

“Someone is not getting laid tonight…. Or any night.” 

- - - -

COMMENTS:

“Omg. Where did they go?” 

“Did they die? Why haven’t they posted?” 

“I misssss them!” 

“Mom…. Dad…… where are you?” 

“It’s been like 3 months. Come on.” 

“She probably killed him after the electric prank.” 

- - - - 

After 3 months of not posting you both return with a video. 

Life had been busy, with both of you moving because of his deployment and you having to find another job in the new space. 

But things have settled a bit, now back with his “Top Gun” crew and the house almost completely unpacked. 

You had been visiting his parents, and that’s where the video takes place. 

His mom and dad both had headphones over their ears blasting music, and the game is to guess what Jake is saying as you record. 

“You.” Jake says, laughing a bit. 

“TO!” His dad guesses. 

“You.” 

“TOO!” 

“You.” 

“YOU!” He yells and Jake nods. 

“Are going.” 

“Are going!” 

“To be.” 

“TOBY!” 

“To be.” 

“TOGA!” 

“To be.” 

“TO BE!” 

“Grandparents.” 

“Gray PARROTS!” 

“Grandparents.” 

“PIRATES?” 

“Parents” 

“You are going to be grandparents.” 

“You are going to be godparents?” 

“Oh Jesus Paul!” His mom snaps, pulling the headphones off quickly with tears in her eyes as she dashes to hug you. 

“Oh!” His dad smiles. “OH MY GOD! WERE GOING TO BE GRANDPARENTS!” 

When he rushes to hug you both the headphones get caught and he trips up before landing in the group hug. 

- - - - 

COMMENTS:

“No. Freaking. Way!” 

“Ugh.” 

“I’m so happy for you guys!” 

“Mom and dad fr fr.”

- - - - - 

TAGLIST::::::

@the-romanian-is-bae @mshistorylover @boringusername3 @dingochef @quillsandtypos @sunnysidesidra @eddiemunsonreader @sinners-98-world @rhirhikingston @imaginecrushes @80pairsofcrocs @themusingofagothicsoul @mshistorylover @quillsandtypos @mallerz @dtownclown93

@f1oralf1owers @salgachode @fox-bee926 @iamthebeth @anxious-alto @tsnelf7 @dumb-fawkin-bitch @gojos-bizarre-adventure @dreamsofouterspace @xcastawayherosx @chaoticassidy @eugene-emt-roe @iamaslytherin0 @the-romanian-is-bae @lets-turn-and-burn

[soft-pine]

okay so @monstermoviedean is watching s14 rn and her takes are god tier!!! and you should all go read her blog please!

but it just makes me want to talk about lebanon/14.13 so much! like it really is one of my favorite episodes of spn. which is crazy i know because i truly hate john with every fiber of my being but i think this episode reveals so much about him & dean's relationship with him with delicious subtly!

and i've yapped at random on twitter about this but i want to gather all my thoughts in one place.

dean's relationship with john is The most important relationship in spn that i'm interested in unpacking. (i am normal and fine and this has nothing to do with my own issues)

i think for some people who understand john as abusive, it is frustrating and jarring to see him come back after so many years and just be kinda nice. especially given that dean has just finally started to talk to his family about some of the bad things john did.

i maintain that dean has been pretty clear with cas and like random strangers that his dad was shitty. but in 14.11, he tells mary the winchester surprise story. while he doesn't frame the story as truly a critique of john, it is a contrast to his quiet silence and pained expression after newly-resurrected mary says john was a good father in 12.02. in 14.12, dean opens up to sam about how when john was pissed off at dean, he would send him away. this is a stark new light on dean's comments from 7.14 where he apologizes to sam for sometimes "ditching him" when they were kids. sam quickly shuts down dean's apology in 14.12 and subsequent discussion about dean's regrets and feelings about john. but since sam's shift in his opinion about john in 2.02, dean pretty consistently keeps his criticism to himself in front of sam so this is a marked change. and the very next episode script draft includes the infamous "probably pulled the wide-eye hitchhiker routine. dad made me do it all the time on hunts. as bait." so, given the episodes and revelations that bookend 14.13, it's understandable how hard it is to see john and dean interact at all.

but i think it's perfect! because it so clearly shows every truth of their relationship.

firstly, we can look at who john apologizes to. in 1.16, 1.20, and 14.13 john is reunited with sam & dean after time apart. and in all three episodes, he apologizes and/or works to make amends with sam for their fractured relationship. in fact, in 14.13, it's a mention of the winchester surprise that triggers john's apology to sam.

in contrast, the only time john apologizes to dean for his childhood is 2.01 when he says sorry for making dean always have to look after him and sam. and then promptly asks him to kill sam if he has to.

it's crushing to me that at no point does john see the way he treated dean as anything to make amends for. instead, in 1.21 and 14.13, he frames dean not "having a home" or "having a family," "a normal life" as circumstances outside his control or as somehow dean's choice. and yet, john is entirely responsible. he is the one moving dean from school to school, getting him into credit card fraud, taking him on hunts. in 12.09 it's established that dean has as long arrest/warrant record which includes things we never see him getting arrested for in canonical spn. he is the one who always said hunting was temporary (6.02) and yet never allowed for a way out. so even though john's affect is kinder, we know he isn't meaningfully taking accountability for a huge amount of his actions.

it's the reason for the kinder affect we can look at next. because what is one of the most common indicators of abusive dynamics? treating people differently in public vs private. and critically for almost all of 14.13, mary is observing john. and we know that despite their marital problems (5.16), she considered him a good father. he doesn't know that the life he forced sam and dean into is the very worst thing she could have imagined for her children (4.03), but we can tell from his apologies to sam that john is at least aware of things he did which he regrets.

before mary arrives, he is giving sam and dean orders, "You boys better tell me what the hell is going on right now." i recognize he's very disoriented but this affect disappears entirely after mary shows up. i cannot overstate how much i love how not stern and harsh john is here because it shows that he could have always chosen to be like that. but there weren't negative consequences (a wife who might be angry with him) to face.

i've said before that i think one of the reasons that john kept sam & dean away from hunter gatherings and meeting other hunters (2.03, 12.06) is because hunters they met might have acted exactly how dean acts to krissy's dad in 7.11 and told him to quit. the hunters/community john did maintain relationships with were sometimes kinda shitty people - Deacon (2.19), Travis (4.04), Martin (8.09). not that Bobby, Caleb, Pastor Jim, Bill Harvell, Daniel Elkin were necessarily like that but I do think its worth looking at who John's friends who he didn't have a falling-out with were. Like Fred Jones who gave Sam & Dean their first beers when they weren't even 10 (8.08).

some other details about that first reunion kitchen conversation that always stick out to me are john finishing the drink dean pours for him while dean & sam barely touch theirs. it's also significant to me that dean tells mary in 12.01 that john died to save him. but here, he tells john that he died taking out yellow-eyes (which is literally not what happened. like specifically he died by making a deal with azazel). dean, always working to deescalate and maintain the peace, instantly clocks which thing they will each find more soothing to hear.

one thing that i see people often critique is the idea that john coming back is somehow the thing dean wished for the most. but what dean actually says is that this is something he's wanted since he was four years old. so it's really not about john back at all. john died when dean was 27. but mary died when dean was four. and that cause nearly every hard, traumatic, awful thing in dean's life. to some extent, i think it was about wanting john to have mary back. throughout dean's entire life, john used the loss of mary as an excuse for how he acted and what he made dean & sam do. so of course what dean wants most is... for that not to have happened.

and this brings my to my second favorite part of the episode. but you'll only catch if you're paying attention. dean says he's thrilled to have john back and yet at every chance he gets, he leaves the room john's in. he leaves the kitchen when john reunites with mary. dean gets the grocery list from mary while john has a tearful apology with sam. dean talks to john again only because he has to tell him about the pearl but then leaves to help cook. after dinner, he goes to do the dishes. dean really is not actually trying to spend time with john - even when they get a deadline for when their time with him is over, dean is not trying to make the most of it. and god i love him for that.

i sympathize with people who are frustrated to see dean fall back into the role of caretaker for john's emotions and wellbeing. and i agree but i appreciate that it is very clear that's what's happening. he's performing the role he's always been forced to perform. he may be more aware of it as a performance this time. he may be taking more steps to remove himself from having to interact with john. but i would almost feel worse if he wasn't getting john a drink, doing what he said, going on little errands, cooking, cleaning up. john says "You want to give your mom a hand?" and of course he goes.

i think dean always has held both deep hurt from and empathy for john and this episode is full of both of them. and while i think it's always hard to hear dean slip back into those moments of empathy (8.12 is always rough for me), it's so real that's where he would be sometimes. so much of being a child who's made responsible for your parent's emotions means that there is such a deep part of you that wants to protect them from harm.

i personally think the song "til it shines" by bob seger is an insane choice to play over their dinner scene. because, though that's not the part of the song that plays, the lines "Take the chip off of my shoulder. Smooth out all the lines. Take me out among the rustling pines, till it shines, ah, till it shines" always strike me as trying to see something through rose-tinted glasses in a way. or maybe acknowledging the performative, white-washing that's being done?

anyway, i understand why people want dean to have a cathartic yelling session with john. but honestly im not sure that would ever sit right with me. i think honestly 14.13 is kind of perfect. john comes back and it proves everything. john could always be kind (he took you to a freaking baseball game (4.19)). he could always apologize. he always did say he wanted the boys to get out of hunting but never even tried to make it happen.

and that brings me to my favorite part of the episode. my darling. my baby. my treasure. dean says, "i have a family." and what that means to him is his own. he gets to keep it. he gets to mean it without john's scrutiny. without him tearing it apart. the conversation sam & dean have over dishes is another deeply meaningful part. dean specifically rejects the idea of telling john the truth about any of it - even if it would change things. because he's good with who he is. "Cause our lives – they’re ours."

this matters so much to me because i don't think dean's healing can ever be contingent on john - not on his reaction, not on finally telling him the truth, not on john getting comeuppance for all the shit he did, not even on changing the past so john has more information because the critical thing that 14.13 and 4.19 show is that john literally did not do the best he could. so what could change that?

in the kitchen, dean tells sam that he blamed john for "the longest time". do you understand how much it means to me to hear him say that?! because i think of course blaming john is the first step! dean was hurt and he was angry about that and he should be!

but dean's healing can't just stop there. while i know there will be moments as he heals where he's angry with john again, the beautiful core of dean's healing i see in 14.13 is him being clear on where the boundary of him and his wants, goals, needs, and priorities are vs john's. i think a lot of dean's young relationship with john was him being forced to keep parts of himself (the parts that didn't like to hunt for example) secret out of shame and necessity. but here, i don't think dean is carrying that shame anymore. he is very clear on how what he wants from his life differs from what john would want but dean sticks to his own values. he has a family. he's good with who he is. it's just none of john's goddamn business.

anyway, as always mitski says it best....

plus we get two of THE MOST shots of dean's face of all time for me!!! like my god stabbing me would hurt less!!!

plus! PLUS!! CHERRY ON TOP!!! LOOK AT THESE NOOOOOODLES

in conclusion. your honor, i love her.

[paperultra]

le festin.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 3,842 words Warnings: Swearing, alcohol use, toxic family [A/N: yes this is partially inspired by ratatouille. inspiration comes from many places and i am not one to question it. happy new year <3]

cingulomania (noun): a strong desire to hold a person in your arms nemesism (noun): frustration, anger or aggression directed inward, toward oneself and one's way of living

Thunk.

Thunk.

Thunk.

“Murfus.”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Get me more darts.”

Murfus wrings his hands, glancing between you and the wall a few feet away. “I … I’m afraid I can’t get you more darts,” he replies tentatively, “on account of us being out at sea, Miss.”

“Then fetch the ones I’ve already thrown,” you snap, pointing at said darts. “Idiot.”

“Of course. So sorry, Miss.”

He scampers over to the wall and hurriedly pulls each dart out of it, rushing back to you with sweat on his brow. You snatch them out of his white-gloved palms.

Pinching the blue dart between your fingers, you hold it up to your eye and aim. With a sharp snap of your wrist, the dart flies forward and into the paper tacked onto the wood panel.

Murfus winces.

Crumpled, smudged, and pitted with pin-sized holes, one would have a hard time reading the article on the wall. But you know what it says. You’ve memorized its structure, can land a dart onto each line mentioning that damned restaurant by name. And you do.

“Murfus.”

“Yes, Miss?”

“Read the menu to me again.”

“Of course, Miss.” You hear the crinkle of paper and the sound of him clearing his throat. “The appetizers are as follows …”

You only half-listen as the man continues, the other half occupied by the wall in front of you and the starting paragraph steadily being destroyed by your hand. Your tongue draws across your teeth.

“In all our years as food critics, scouring the East Blue for any semblance of palatable cuisine in a region brimming with endless possibilities, no other restaurant has come as close to unlocking the flavor of the seas as the Baratie.”

—

You had, by all accounts, a privileged upbringing.

The Nouveau Blue Guide is not royalty, nobility, or military – but it is an empire in its own right, a name that’s afforded you many opportunities and comforts since you were young: a fine education, luxurious business trips, a roof over your head and plenty of food to eat. Your family’s reputation as food critics, built by your great-grandfather and painstakingly maintained up to this very day, is unmatched in the East Blue.

Such is your birthright. A birthright that, despite your toil and travels and countless, countless hours spent writing reviews, your parents say you do not deserve.

“You call this an article?” Your mother brandishes the draft you’d submitted in hopes of some constructive criticism, her voice climbing high. “It’s a mess!”

“I haven’t polished it up yet –”

“There’s nothing worth polishing. Frankly, it’s embarrassing that a child of mine has written something like this.” She passes the article over to your father. “Darling, throw this away. I’m already stressed as it is.”

Your father takes it. Gives it a cursory once-over. Your tentative anticipation dissolves in the pit of your stomach when he sighs, shaking his head at you. “You’re not cut out for this career, dear,” he tells you, folding your article in half and then quarters and dropping it into the bin by your mother’s desk. “Claudie is already taking over the Guide. Your time is better spent improving your etiquette.”

You breathe in. Keep your hands relaxed, square your shoulders. Nod obediently with clenched teeth.

“I’m sorry for wasting your time.”

You know that your family means well. They want you to live a successful life, find a successful spouse, and raise successful children. They don’t want you to waste your time because your time is valuable.

Well, today, you’re going to prove that you are not wasting anything.

“We’re ready to disembark, Miss.”

“Good.”

Standing up, you put on your gloves and hat, picking your notebook and pen up from the table before walking with Murfus down to the dock.

He accompanies you to the entrance of the Baratie, then falls back so you may walk in alone. The maître d’hôtel welcomes you and promptly gets you seated at a booth on the ground floor, not too close to the stairs to distract you from the ambience of the restaurant and not too close to the kitchen to hear the ruckus of the cooks.

In the brief space of time before your waiter arrives, you take everything in. Dim, cozy lighting. High ceiling. Few windows. Sitting in the Baratie is like sitting in the belly of a whale. Perhaps you can make a point about it being a bit too enclosed, but given that its main customers are seafarers looking for reprieve from the elements, you don’t think many would find that damning.

You make a few half-hearted but detailed notes.

“Hello, madam.” A voice from above interrupts your writing.

You look up, irritated.

The waiter before you is a handsome man, blond-haired and broad-shouldered. He flashes you a charming smile upon meeting your eyes as he sets a plate of bread rolls down, standing close enough that you can smell cigarette smoke mixed with spices and just the barest remnants of cologne.

You recognize him immediately.

“My name is Sanji, and I have the immense pleasure of being your waiter this evening. Shall we start with drinks?”

Stifling your confusion with a sneer, you place your pen down.

“Is the Baratie so short-staffed that they have their sous chef waiting tables?”

Sanji’s smile freezes for just a moment. He seems to recover quickly, though, shaking his head and chuckling at your query.

“I’m flattered you recognize me!” he replies. “No, I occasionally wait tables when the owner requests it, that’s all.”

You do not buy it.

“Then, Sanji, I will have a glass of Ithürzburger Stein to start,” you say.

He nods. “Excellent choice. I will get that for you straight away.”

His eyes dart shamelessly to your open notebook before settling back on your face. To your utter surprise and dismay, he winks at you before heading off.

Your cheeks warm without warning.

Nobody, let alone a waiter (even if he really is the sous chef), has ever winked at you before. They had the good sense not to. It’s incredibly crude, and surely, you’re more offended than anything else – handsome or not, such behavior deserves a scathing call-out –

But … what if you’re overthinking things? What if it isn’t a big deal because it doesn’t affect the quality of the food? Your parents always take context into consideration – the Baratie is beloved for its rough-and-tumble personality under the guise of upscale dining, so perhaps this is part of the experience. He may not have even winked at you at all.

“Tch.”

You release the tablecloth from your grip, grabbing a bread roll instead and sinking your teeth into it. It’s light, sweet, and perfect. You chew quickly and swallow hard.

The sous chef comes back soon after, your requested bottle of wine in one hand and a polished glass in the other.

“Your Ithürzburger Stein, madam,” he says, opening the bottle and pouring you a glass with practiced ease.

He watches intently as you pick the glass up and bring it to your lips. The aroma reaches your nose, and it takes an immense effort not to wrinkle it as you take a sip. You’ve never particularly liked alcohol. This one is sour and dry.

“It’s alright,” you say, wishing you could rinse the taste out with juice. “I’m ready to order my appetizers and entrées.”

“Of course.”

You rattle off a few items, having memorized the menu after listening to Murfus read it so many times. For the appetizers, wakame salad with sesame-ginger dressing, Sea King croquettes, and grilled plums with goat cheese. For the entrees, Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon with roasted potatoes and chickpea stew. They’re nothing particularly unique or outstanding, but you feel that they are worth evaluating.

Sanji takes your order and leaves you with another dazzling smile, and you make the excuse of drinking more of the wine to avoid it. Maybe you will be a better writer drunk than sober.

Probably not.

Alone once again, you occupy yourself by exploring different ways to describe the wine, the bread, and the atmosphere. When you tire of that, you eavesdrop on the booth next to yours. It seems to be occupied by a group of marines, each attempting to one-up the others in the world’s shortest dick-measuring contest. You tire of that much more quickly.

When your appetizers arrive, you’re examining the arrangement of the silverware and the quality of their polish.

“Is the table set to your liking?” Sanji asks while lining up the plates. He takes more time doing so than is necessary, in your opinion.

“How it’s set doesn’t matter as much as whether it’s clean and accessible,” you reply, eyeing the croquettes with interest. “Tell me, where do you get your Sea King meat?”

“The Gourmet Hunter Guild supplies us with most of the rarer meats we serve here. The Sea King meat in your croquettes was just delivered this morning, so I’d say you’re quite lucky, madam.”

“What species is it?”

“Baron of the Tides.”

“Barons of the Tides tend to have a strong taste and tough flesh. Not many people are fond of it.”

Sanji’s eye glints as he rests a hand on the table, leaning in. “You know your food,” he says. “I expected no less from the Nouveau Blue Guide, and yet I’m still impressed.”

“It must not take much to impress you, then.”

“It takes a lot, actually.” He winks at you, and this time, you’re sure of it – and it’s strange because you don’t feel leered at, not at all, and your cheeks warm yet again. “Regarding the meat, no matter what it is, a good chef can make anything into a delicious meal. You won’t be disappointed.”

“I’ll be the judge of that.”

“Of course, madam. You’re the expert, after all.”

You are glad when he finally leaves, if only because you have no idea what to make of him. It’s difficult to tell if he’s being patronizing, and you can usually tell.

You sweep your gaze over your appetizers and take a deep breath.

Starting with the wakame salad, you inspect its presentation – a round pile of rich green seaweed in a smooth black bowl – and take a small portion to chew on.

The seaweed strikes a perfect balance between tender and firm, and the seasoning is perfect.

Fine. Whatever.

Next, the grilled plums with goat cheese. You take one bite; the creamy earthiness of the cheese complements the tender sweetness of the plums, and the caramelization is obnoxiously fantastic. You eat an entire half to make sure.

It looks like your last hope for this round is the Sea King croquettes.

Plucking one up with your fingers, you cut your teeth through the crispy, golden breading. The meaty interior strikes your tongue and your intake of breath is sudden, your free hand curling into a tight fist underneath the table.

It tastes good.

All three of them are really good.

This is horrible.

When Sanji drops off your entrées, you hardly realize that he’s there, too engrossed in the scent and the sight and the taste of the food.

“I hope the appetizers were to your liking?”

Sanji somehow gets the hint when you stab your fork into the Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon. He clears his throat and leaves you to your own devices.

You eat, and with each bite, your frustration mounts.

The Sambasian crab-stuffed salmon is flaky and succulent, the potatoes roasted to crisp skin and creamy flesh. The chickpea stew sits hot in your mouth and fills your nose with a parade of fragrant spices. It tastes amazing soaked into the bread rolls. Nothing is undercooked, or overcooked, or sloppily presented. Everything is just right. Just perfect.

You spend what feels like hours in the mouth of the booth, tasting, writing, crossing out, agonizing. The sounds of the Baratie die out until all you can hear is the scratching of pen against paper and your own breathing and pulse.

No, no, no, no.

It’s … it’s impossible. Any complaint you have is simply an expression of your own personal preferences, and your personal preferences don’t mean shit.

Your writing utensil is nearly buckling under the pressure by the time Sanji comes around for the nth time, and you’re just about ready to skewer him with it along with whoever else has the luck to wander too close.

“Are you interested in dessert, madam?”

“Of course I am,” you grit out.

All you’re met with is that damned smile of his. “Wonderful. Here’s our dessert menu.” He holds it out and you snatch it from him. “Someone with such a sweet face deserves something just as sweet.”

You snap the menu shut.

“Surprise me.”

Sanji blinks while you glare up at him, handing the menu back.

“… Pardon, madam?”

“I want the famed sous chef of the Baratie to prepare a dessert for me,” you say evenly. “I don’t care what it is or how long it takes. Surprise me.”

“I … of course.” He straightens up, the most serious you’ve ever seen him this entire evening. “Whatever you want.”

—

You wait.

The sous chef returns, not even an hour later, with a white ceramic bowl in hand and none other than the owner of the Baratie stomping after him.

“Your dessert, madam,” Sanji says, though a bit hurriedly. “Rice pudding with mango –”

He’s interrupted by Zeff, who grabs him by the back of his collar much like one would do to an errant cat. You raise your eyebrows, watching Sanji’s expression immediately wrinkle into one of annoyance.

“Little eggplant, you stop and listen when I’m talking to you.”

“Are you serious, old man? I’m in the middle of –”

“I told you that you’re off the line. No customer can change that, no matter who they are.” Zeff casts you a wayward glance and frowns before dragging Sanji back towards the kitchen. “We’re gonna have a little chat, you and me.”

Despite his bitter protesting, Sanji leaves your table with Zeff, and you’re left with your final course and the curious eyes of several diners.

“What are you looking at?” you bark at them, and they quickly go back to their meals.

You look down at your dessert. There’s a sprinkling of cinnamon on the surface, and it’s crowned with bright, paper-thin slices of mango, but rice pudding is so … simple. You’re almost insulted. But you are also surprised, and that is what you asked for.

Scooping up a bit of the pudding, you place it into your mouth, closing your eyes.

Two seconds later, you slam your spoon onto the table and stand up.

You can feel the sturdiness of the kitchen’s doors when you fling them open, your gaze immediately falling upon a mop of blond hair in the corner.

Heading straight towards him, you seize the front of Sanji’s well-pressed shirt and drag his face close to yours.

“What did you put in it?!”

Your shriek explodes through the noise of the kitchen staff. Sanji stares at you with wide eyes and oddly reddening cheeks.

“In the pudding?” he asks, bewildered. “Not much, really. Glutinous rice, coconut milk, salt –”

“Goddammit.” You shove him away and dig your nails into the back of your neck, chest and throat tightening. You can feel your breaths beginning to quicken and your eyes starting to sting. “Shit. Shit.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa”—Sanji puts a hand on your shoulder and it burns—“sweetheart, what’s wrong –”

“Where does that back door lead to?”

“Er, a dock? We take smoke breaks –”

“Excuse me.”

Shaking him off and pushing past him, you head straight to the door, open it, and close it behind you.

And then you scream.

Gods, you’re fucking ruined. You’re a fucking failure. Your parents were right, Claudie was right, you can’t do this and you could never do this and now you’re at the back of the East Blue’s only five-fucking-star restaurant having an emotional breakdown over eating food.

You scream until your voice breaks, until you’re left kneeling and gasping for breath on the filthy, wet dock.

You cough. Cinnamon lingers in the back of your throat, and you start crying.

Behind you, the door creaks open.

"[Y/n]?"

“Please don’t let my family hear about this,” you burst out without even turning to look at Sanji. “I’ll pay whatever amount you want.”

“Nobody’s going to be saying anything.” You feel him approaching, and then he drops down to sit next to you. “However, I’m very concerned about you. What’s got you so upset?”

“Why do you care?”

“A lovely lady such as yourself shouldn’t have to suffer alone.”

“Oh, please.” You hug your knees to your chest. But Sanji doesn’t leave, and after a few minutes, the words fall unbidden from your mouth, having nowhere else to go. “… I wasn’t assigned to come here.”

“Hm?”

“My family”—you swallow the lump in your throat—“they don’t know I’m here. I came here to write a review on the Baratie and get a … get a star taken away.”

Gods. That sounds so fucking stupid now. What is wrong with you?

“You did?” Sanji sounds baffled. “How come?”

A wet laugh crawls out between your teeth. “You’re the only restaurant my parents have ever given five stars to, you know that, right? So I figured – I-I figured if I could find out something wrong with the Baratie, they’d realize how good I can be at this job. I’m good at finding flaws. I’m good at details. This should’ve been … I should’ve found something.” You glare down at your lap. “But I couldn’t. Not even in the stupid dessert you made.”

“Oh.” A moment of silence occurs in which you can practically hear him gather his thoughts. “… I suppose I can take that as a compliment,” he says slowly, crossing his legs. “But is that really how you see food? Something to find fault in?”

“It’s something to evaluate. I’m a critic. It’s what I’ve always wanted to be.”

“But do you enjoy it?”

You frown, sniffling. Your brow furrows.

You want to tell him that it’s a stupid question. Why would you need to enjoy food? It’s work. You feel accomplished after finding the right words for a dish’s unique flavor, feel determined when you comb through the items on a menu. You feel delighted when you find something wrong with it.

But you …

“No,” you realize. “I … don’t.”

“I see. Well, I’m not one to tell you how to think,” Sanji says, “but as a cook, I believe that food’s one of the pleasures and privileges of being alive. As a critic, why deny yourself of its full potential?”

“I … I don’t know,” you whisper.

And the thought occurs to you, like a bottle that had been floating out at sea for years finally washing ashore, that you hate what your life has become.

“I don’t know.”

You can’t help it. You let out a loud sob, your head hanging down and bumping against Sanji’s arm. He doesn’t hesitate to wrap you in a tight hug.

It’s the first hug you’ve had in a very, very long time.

“I’m so sick of this,” you croak, face hot with shame and humiliation. “I’ll never be good enough for them. Ever.”

“They don’t deserve you.”

“But they’re my family.”

He rests his chin on your head. “A family who hurts you this much isn’t much of a family at all,” he murmurs.

His words are like a hot knife to the throat. What follows is cold, awful, bitter relief.

You force your eyes shut. Your arms tighten desperately around him, and you curl up, a pathetic excuse of a person in a crumpled heap on a dirty dock.

So this is you, you think. A purposeless silver spoon, miserable and starved for affection, clinging to a complete stranger outside the best restaurant in the East Blue.

It feels better to lay everything bare, actually.

“I can’t go back,” you tell him hoarsely.

“We won’t let anything get out.”

“The staff won’t, but you can’t do anything about the customers.” Reluctantly, you pull away, taking a deep breath and wiping your eyes. Clarity comes with it, hard and heavy. “But you know what? I don’t care anymore. I quit.”

“Quit?”

“Yeah.”

Reaching up, you close your hand around the small family crest resting just below your collarbone. You hesitate for just a moment, then tug sharply, and the thin chain around your neck snaps. Beads of gold glint in the sunlight as you look at it.

Yeah. Fuck it.

Winding your arm up, you fling the necklace as far as you can into the dark sea. It barely makes a splash as it hits the surface and disappears from sight.

“Good throw,” Sanji compliments.

“Thank you.”

He grins at you crookedly, and you finally return it, the last of your tears squeezing out from the motion and dripping down your cheeks.

Gentle fingers touch your chin. You let Sanji turn your face towards him, and the corner of his mouth tilts up as he takes a handkerchief out of his pocket and wipes the rest of the wetness from your cheeks and nose.

“There,” he says once he’s finished. “Now I can see your pretty face better.”

(You wonder how the world ever produced someone so kind.)

“I’m sorry, Sanji,” you say, “for being such an ass to you earlier.”

“Please don’t worry about it. It was my pleasure to serve you.”

“No, really. I grabbed you. I’ve never done anything like that before, and I feel awful about it.”

“I really didn’t –”

“Please,” you plead.

Sanji bites his lip, holding your gaze for a moment, then sighs. “All right. If it’ll make you feel better, I accept your apology,” he acquiesces. His expression softens. “And if you really have nowhere to go,” he offers more quietly, “the Baratie will gladly welcome you.”

Your lungs feel a bit emptier than usual.

“Thank you,” you somehow manage to say. “I’ll consider your offer.”

Your sudden formality seems to amuse him. He raises an eyebrow. “Oh, consider it? Anything I can do to sweeten the deal?”

His voice dips at the end, a sort of low and raspy thing, and you learn that it is much, much worse than being winked at.

You swallow and turn your head away. “T-Tell me the rest of the ingredients for your rice pudding,” you mutter.

“Join the Baratie and I’ll show you how to make it.”

“What? You’re turning it around on me.”

Sanji merely laughs in response, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Despite your embarrassment, you eventually find yourself chuckling along, and the sounds bloom together, so different yet so complementary. It’s nice, laughing with someone. You enjoy it.

Perhaps this is what food is supposed to bring, you think, this same, small, strange moment of peace and satisfaction.

You hope so.

[like-rain-or-confetti]

Long time lurker first time ask haha

But if you still write for batman villains and are currently taking requests, how would the main 5 + Bane and whoever you'd like react to having an S/O who is constantly stealing things from their closet, like a shirt or a sweater.

Also thank for even reading this your wonderful and I am obsessed with how you write all of them! I hope your having a good day :)

Honey? Where's my supersuit!?

Oh hi lingering time lurker it's so nice to see you!🥰

Scarecrow: The change in weather was coming so Jonathan could resort to his thicker woollen sweater vests. He reached for it in his drawer only to find it wasn't there. That's odd. It should have been there. It's the right colour for his jacket too. Where could it have gone? Then he sighed to himself and pulled out his phone from his pocket. He checked your social media. Your recent picture showed you wearing the very sweater vest he was looking for. He sighed. "Fine. I suppose the other one will do." He gave in trying to stop you ages ago.

The Riddler: If you ever had a reason to steal his clothes, it was because the weather was getting colder. So you stole his sweatshirt. However, what was better was that he probably wouldn't notice because it was an old one. It was almost like a game actually. It'll be amusing to see how long it actually takes for him to notice. Turns out it took 4 hours. You also speculated he was hacking your social media accounts. You took a picture and left it in the drafts. Only to find it posted a few hours later with the caption. "I steal my boyfriends sweaters."

Two-Face: He was passing by when he did a double-take on (Y/N). "...(Y/N)?" "Hm?" You looked up from your phone on the couch. "I might be imagining things but...are you wearing my boxers?" Harvey asked. You chuckled sheepishly. "They're comfy." "That's really hot." Harv' blurted out. You snickered as Harvey looked disappointed in his alter. "He has no filter around you, I swear." He sighed. "Please just keep in mind I only have so many and you don't always do the laundry when you plan to." Harvey then teased.

Black Mask: When you walked into the room, he noticed immediately. "Well, look at you, you suit my shirt, gorgeous." He eyed his black shirt on you. His eyes roamed up and down. "Smell like me too. It just gets better and better." He looked smug, like the sight alone had put him into a good mood. "Good morning to me." He chuckled to himself.

Mad Hatter: He went to deal with his usual crimes and hallucinations when he halted mid stride. "I knew something was wrong." Jervis said as he looked at his hands. His bare pale hands. His black leather gloves weren't on his hands. "Oh dearie me, this isn't good. Not one, not one bit, no siree!" (Y/N) turned the corner. "Huh?" "I lost my gloves! My hands are bare! Oh, how I despair!" He yelled. He showed his hands, limp wrists infront of him like he was imitating a T-Rex. "What do I do with my hands now!?" "Jervis, honey..." (Y/N) replied. "I borrowed them, let me go get them." "Oh? Oh...that's a relief." He exhaled.

Bane: "Is that my belt!?" He huffed. "Yeah, I needed to borrow it." You replied. "Don't tell me you don't own a belt now?" He groaned. "I don't actually." You replied. "So buy yourself one." Bane countered. "Why would I when I can use yours?" "For the exact reason that it's mine!" Bane groaned loudly. You stared at him for a moment. "You haven't needed to use a belt in years." You said with exasperation. Bane paused. You had him there. "Oh fine!" He huffed.