#no wonder there isn't an existing tag for that

[twoflowers]

Sentimentality - Sanji x Reader

Read on AO3

Description: The newest addition to the Straw Hat crew grapples with their easy affection, and especially with the attention from their doting cook.

Tags: SFW, character study, slight slash, scientist reader, no use of Y/N, female reader. First impressions, nakamaship.

Word count: 1418

Special thanks to @mere-mortifer for the encouragement to post my Sanji fics. I love your Sanji very much.

This one isn't very slash-y and honestly feels a bit incomplete to me, but I'm obsessed with this man in a psychological way and need to post at least something, even if it captures only an ounce of my insanity about him and the crew.

Also: thinking about making this into more of a series (as the reader is kind of based on an OC of mine...!). Please, please, Sanji fans: give me any and every prompt you can imagine.

__

Sentimentality

Every morning you settle into the golden-glowing comfort of the breakfast table: the press of arms against arms, the jostling of bodies to the time of the waves, the hard wooden bench softened despite it all. 

The captain is not at all what you expected. He’s a kid, and a downright grabby one at that. You have to slap his rubbery hands away from your plate at every meal, and if you don’t catch him, Nami always does.

You sit next to Chopper, whose tiny, furry body is so very warm. He likes to plan the day over breakfast, still thrilled to have another scientist on board. You watch him nibble at pancakes with his blocky teeth (it really is hard not to coo over him, but he has his dignity to uphold, so you restrain yourself!) and sip his milk and grin, white mustache and all. Robin leans over with a napkin to clean Chopper’s mouth, and he fusses, but concedes. Some of his drawings hang on the fridge, secured by magnets. You think of siblings with a pang in your chest every time you see them.

Roronoa Zoro is inexplicably softer than you imagined. There’s something about the curve of his cheeks, the careless sprawling stance, the way his nose whistles lightly while he sleeps. He barks laughter at Luffy, leans on his swords like they’re children, even smells better than Nami likes to say.

Robin terrified you at first, but you quickly became a sucker for her mellow gaze and old book smell. Besides, educated women are always of interest to you. Nami and Robin are incredible, always encouraging: proof that somehow, someway, a woman who has been chased out of her old life and hunted by the darkest parts of herself can uncurl and be seen. The first few sleepless nights aboard the Going Merry, you stared at the ceiling, heart pounding at the vulnerability of sharing a room. 

You are a scientist. You’ve long denounced the need for sentimentality, though Luffy manages to wring some spare drops out of you every day. How could you have accounted for the love that permeates every board of this ship? How have you gone your entire life wondering if belonging like this could exist, only to find it among a notorious pirate crew- a crew who, really, is more bumbling than you could have imagined? How can Luffy stroll into any place- town, restaurant, heart- and break down every wall without a second thought?

And the chef… 

You have to look away from him sometimes. The first time he made a meal for you, he sank to a kneel to present it, like he was a servant and you were a queen who could take his head at any moment, and have it willingly! You took it with shaking hands and nodded a thank you. When he stood back up, there was a bit of dust on the knee of his fine-pressed pants. You kept your eyes on it as he fluttered around, crooning to the women and brusquely serving the men. What were you supposed to make of that?

Sanji squeezes your heart like it’s an old rag. The way he remembers your favored flavor profiles makes your toes curl. You’re not even sure you’ve managed to smile at him yet, even a month after joining the crew, because he throws you so off-balance you’re left feeling like you’ve been thrust into a hurricane without any solid structure to grip onto.

His… whatever it is- admiration, loyalty, devotion, all of the above and more- has only gotten stronger in the past month. He floats into the lab as if on a cloud to tell you he made you a snack and left it outside, mindful of the potential for contamination. He tells you how lovely your eyes look that day, and every day, that you are the most beautiful woman he has ever seen and that he lives to serve you.

“A snack for you is outside, miss,” he says today, looking like he’s itching to bow. “I prepared a carrot cake and a spiced milk for you, with turmeric, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Let me know if anything is not to your liking.”

You side-eye him from your bench, pipette paused in midair. Miss, miss, miss. Every time he says it you’re left breathless. As usual, you nod and mutter a thank you, still focusing on your work, lest you do something stupid like offering him your hand to kiss or backing him into the wall to taste his neck.

He usually leaves right away, but you don’t hear the door close today. When you look back at Sanji, he’s beaming, eyes practically heart-shaped. 

“May I make anything else for you?”

“No. That will suffice.” Something in your chest is shouting at you for being so formal with him. 

“I like carrot cake,” you add.

Sanji’s smile turns tremulous and melty. A hand moves to cover his heart. “I will keep that in mind. And I don’t wish to disturb you- your work is very important- but it will be best eaten soon, while it’s still warm.”

You surprise yourself by setting down your pipette and moving to the sink to wash your hands. Sanji is still lingering at the door as you scrub between your fingers and under your nails, similar to the way he washes his after handling raw meat. You take extra time drying off, the feeling of him behind you prickling at your neck. 

In the hallway, the cake and milk are placed carefully on a table. The mug is to the top right of the plate, handle tilted at the perfect angle for you to grab. A dainty dessert fork is flipped upside down, leaning on the plate. Two sprigs of mint form a heart on top of the cake.

“I almost don’t want to eat it,” you say. “It looks so perfect.”

“I can make you as many as you’d like, all with love. Please. It’s my pleasure.”

You lift the fork, and Sanji leans forward with the eagerness of a child witnessing a magic trick. When you take a bite of the cake, his visible eye widens.

“It’s delicious. Thank you, Sanji.”

Sanji lets out a shaky breath. “Of course, miss. I can make you anything your heart desires, provided I have the ingredients. And if I don’t, I will make sure to procure as soon as we make landfall.” 

Why does the man have such puppy-dog eyes? You know with certainty that he would do anything you asked of him, or else die trying, and you’ve hardly spoken to him. There’s a string of tension in his body when he’s around you, loosened slightly now that you’ve complimented his food. Is he just that eager to please?

You have met many men happy to go through the motions of wooing you for one reason alone, but something about Sanji tells you that he would be at your beck and call for the rest of your life, even if you never said “thank you” again.

You nod, moving to try the spiced milk, which is, of course, perfect. 

“I noticed that you like cinnamon, so I tweaked the recipe to add more.” He sounds hopeful. “I hope that you don’t find the turmeric overpowering.”

“No, no,” you shake your head, lowering the drink. “It’s good. You’re very… perceptive.”

“Of course! I pay special attention to my lovely ladies.”

You’re included in this group, somehow. Why does that make you want to push and prod at him, despite the measured indifference you’ve culminated? “Sanji,” you say, and he snaps to attention.

“Yes?”

“Could I have some marmalade with this?”

This is the first time you’ve requested anything from him, and a broad smile spreads across his face. 

“Right away.” He falls into a bow before walking down the hallway. When he’s out of view, you hear him begin to run, legs pounding the wooden floor strong enough to rattle the pictures frames on the walls. 

You pluck a sprig of mint from the cake, grinding it between your teeth. It’s refreshing, new, with a bit of a kick. You smile to yourself, thinking of Sanji in the kitchen, carefully scooping marmalade into a dainty dish, heart thrumming from receiving an order from his newest object of affection.

[dieuecaflip2004]

I'm so glad I grew up with Ōban Star-Racers instead of whatever the fuck america is/was doing. i distinctly remember going on a holiday to visit a friend in the states and crying when she tried to make me watch that shit

[fiapple]

i'm getting towards the end of the skypeia arc, & i'd like to say just how much i adore the way the female strawhats have been treated.

just... every aspect of how the way their characters have been previously contextualized influences the story-line is treated with a masterful amount of consideration. we're given so many layers to both of them that enrich not only their characters specifically, but the arc, and the one piece world as a whole. without nami & robin having their specific skills, and their specific values, without those being built upon, the story would have come to a halt.

you could not have skypeia without nami & robin being who they are as individuals. not just because they never would've gotten there without nami, but also because the way these women think is itself foundational to the machinations of the arc as a whole.

to be totally upfront, if you think any other strawhats were more central to the skypeia arc than nami & robin were you are full-on fucking lying to yourself.

[hermes-helpol]

Sitting outside during a storm, watching, listening; enjoying the rain and the lightning and the thunder and thinking of Lord Zeus.

Thinking about his stories; what I know and how much I know I'm oblivious to. Wondering what I can learn from him. Reminding myself to research him later.

Thanking him for the storm. For every drop, every flash; every rumble.

Thunderstorms are something we have always adored both collectively with my system and together with our family/mother. But this one was truly magical because I got to experience it with Lord Zeus in mind.

I love religion 💜.

[charlies-crushes]

(first image is her in MP100, second image is her in OPM)

Maya Reigen the daughter of Arataka Reigen and the wife of Saitama. In this AU OPM and MP100 share a universe and the events of MP100 take place when Saitama is in highschool.

Before the events of Mob Psycho 100 when Maya was just a baby she was left on the doorstep of the Spirits and Such Consultation Offices and while Reigen had absolutely no idea what to do with a baby girl but he also didn't know any adoption centres and so decided to raise her by himself to the best of his abilities. I image he named her Maya so that her name would be easy to write and he kept her hair short so it would be easier for him to maintain it. That all being said however he did grow to truly love her as even if he often felt unfulfilled and directionless at least he had someone to work towards making happy. As she got older she'd also help him with his work by servicing as their marketing department using social media to (unsuccessfully) help her dad's business. He's also very protective of her which leads us onto...

Maya meets Saitama during their first year of high school when she protects him from delinquents trying to get his lunch money. Since then they'd often hang out together much to Reigen's chagrin as in some ways he viewed Saitama as actually being too similar to a younger version of himself with how they're both kinda directionless and lazy. That being said he also can see that Saitama does care about Maya so even if he wouldn't admit to it he does silently give them their blessing as they become adults together.

Now as they are adults they get married a little after she finishes culinary school and just before he saves the grandchild of Agoni after unsuccessful job interviews. During the events of OPM they are a pretty soft and gentle married couple, when not at work they just like to laze about the house watching stupid TV Shows and anime and eat junkfood. Yet they also often work together as her skills with the blade when it comes to cooking have also transferred to her skills with the blade when it comes to fighting.

(Tag list: @peacesmith, @everynya)

[northern-passage]

very interested to know if anyone would ever leave a review like this on a game that had all cishet characters... is that pandering to the "cisgender" narrative? or is it only pandering when it's the "transgenders"? 🤔 what makes it pandering? just because it's for an audience that's not you? because it's for a group of people you don't personally like? what makes you so special that only your stories are the ones you deem worthy of being told?

[madwheelerz]

Okay, like, what is up with y'all these days. Why are you going after the literal backbones of the fandom right now? The artists and the writers are what are holding it together and you decide it's a good idea to harrass them?

Over what a haircut? A story that doesn't suit your tastes? Newsflash move on. You don't have to look, you don't have to read. Go be miserable by yourself.

All the complaints about a "dead tag" lmao, you're about to see what a real "dead tag" looks like if you aren't nicer, tf.

[charliespringverse]

anyways i'm enjoying the pjo series but i do think that the god of war & his children should be built less like dehydrated marvel muscle shows and more like contestants in a strongman competition . be nice to see some fat people on my screen once in a while idk

[headphonemouse]

I left a comment on a fic then checked out the author's account only to realize that I've already read all their other works and also left comments there god I hope they don't recognize me

[bi-moonlight]

.

[hauntingblue]

Happy memory flashbacks we are so over....

[omarwolaeth]

I've listened to Yuto's Passionate Soul x ətˈæk 0N tάɪtn so often that, whilst vibing along, I got the melody completely wrong half-way through actual Yuto's Passionate Soul.

[infiniteglitterfall]

Yes! Don't believe all the bullshit stories about mass rapes.

Just because some of the survivors SAY they witnessed repeated gang rapes by Hamas doesn't mean it's true.

I'm sure this woman's family would know whether she was raped! It's not like they're going to cover that up to protect her or something. She's already dead!

That NY Times article doesn't even seem like it talked to her family. No quotes from them. All it has is quotes from total strangers claiming Hamas raped people.

Like "Four witnesses described in graphic detail seeing women raped and killed at two different places along Route 232, the same highway where Ms. Abdush’s half-naked body was found sprawled on the road at a third location.

"And The Times interviewed several soldiers and volunteer medics who together described finding more than 30 bodies of women and girls in and around the rave site and in two kibbutzim in a similar state as Ms. Abdush’s — legs spread, clothes torn off, signs of abuse in their genital areas."

I mean, what kind of proof is that? And then they talk about "one woman’s corpse that emergency responders discovered in the rubble of a besieged kibbutz with dozens of nails driven into her thighs and groin" and "two dead Israeli soldiers at a base near Gaza who appeared to have been shot directly in their vaginas."

Were any of those women Gal Abdush? OBVIOUSLY NOT, so why even mention them?

The Times really went out of their way to fill that column space with extraneous nonsense. They even interview some random accountant who talks about "seeing groups of heavily armed gunmen rape and kill at least five women."

She says "she then watched another woman 'shredded into pieces.' While one terrorist raped her, she said, another pulled out a box cutter and sliced off her breast. 'One continues to rape her, and the other throws her breast to someone else, and they play with it, throw it, and it falls on the road.'

"She said the men sliced her face and then the woman fell out of view. Around the same time, she said, she saw three other women raped and terrorists carrying the severed heads of three more women."

Come on. Do you even know how hard it is to cut off someone's head?! IT'S REALLY HARD. I haven't done it, but one time I had to finish beheading a chicken, and that was tough enough!

And THEN they talk to Raz Cohen, who has been doing interviews since early October talking about all these gang rapes he supposedly saw! So then HE tells them about seeing five men passing a screaming naked woman around, taking turns raping her before one knifes her to death.

And his "fashion designer" "friend" who was hiding with him at the music festival says he saw it too, and talks about the five guys laughing and chatting and giggling about it.

The article just goes on and on and on and on! All these first responders and coroners and whatever, talking about how they found dead women with their vaginas cut open, dead women with bloody crotches whose fingernails had been torn out, dead teen girls with semen on their bodies.... It's like, okay, we get it already! You don't have any proof that Gal Abdush was raped! 🙄

https://mondoweiss.net/2024/01/family-of-key-case-in-new-york-times-october-7-sexual-violence-report-renounces-story-says-reporters-manipulated-them/

[2lizard2sister]

hey what's up everyone it's Alice lizardsister I guess ive finally officially become a trans woman given that @staff nuked my blog WITH no warning! no email explanation! nothing! aside from the crime of existing as a trans woman on this site

anyone another big reminder that despite all their claims otherwise @staff really seems continued to be dedicated to singling out trans women while doing absolutely nothing about the rampant transmisogyny on here. this is on top of the racism present & @staff's deletion of black users on here & cleansing of different tags like the Ferguson one that goes back years before any of this as well - something that isn't personally targeted at me as a white woman, but something that i wouldn't feel right not mentioning as well

we'll see if i actually dedicate myself to rebuilding on this new blog / if i ever want to continue being on this website anymore, but i at least wanted to get the word out that @staff is still very much up to their bullshit. i would like to emphasize again that this came with absolutely zero prior warnings, zero email explanation on what i even did, and several hours later no response from staff when i sent into an inquiry on where my blog went

i'd like to say for any mutuals/friends on here who have worried that im doing okay and honestly am currently seeing the humor in the situation in just how blatant this shit is, and I appreciate everyone who's been wondering about me 💚

[roastedoatmilk]

Lunch Box Scandal

Kento Nanami x Gn! Reader

Summary: Someone seems to be packing Nanami’s lunch for him and Gojo is determined to figure out who it is.

Word Count: 1.2k

Tags: the most tooth rotting fluff, mentions of satosugu, gojo needs a hug he's also a little shit in this, nanami being insanely whipped for his partner

This is also on ao3 !!

Little Things Masterlist here

Kento Nanami sighs as he walks into the faculty room, lunch box in hand, Gojo had been on his nerves all day pestering him over the smallest things. Sitting down at the farthest table from the door Kento sets his lunch box onto the table wondering what you had prepared for him for his lunch that day. Unlatching the buckle holding the tin box closed Kento hears the door to the room open and then quickly close again, he inwardly groans knowing exactly who had just entered the room.

“Nanamin!” Gojo cheered, “not having lunch by yourself, are you?” Making his way over to the table that the blond man was at and plopping down into the seat closest to him.

Kento tries his hardest to ignore the 6 '3 man child and opens the lid to his lunch box finally getting a view of what you had packed for him that morning. A small smile comes to the man’s face when he sees the effort you put into his lunch. The rice balls molded to be shaped like penguins each one having a different little face, the sausages cut to be shaped like octopuses, the eggs made out to be a duck with little faces, and a star shaped carrot placed over his peas. Taped to the lid of the box is a little note in your handwriting that says “You’re my Honey Bee” with a tiny drawing of two bees underneath it. As he was reading the note he could feel the gaze of a certain blindfolded man on him.

Sighing, Kento turns to the white haired man and asks, “Yes Satoru?” trying his hardest to make it look like your note didn’t affect him.

Gojo didn’t buy it for one second, a wicked grin on his face. Snatching the note from the top of the lunch box before he could say anything, Gojo brings the note closer to him and reads it before laughing, Kento just groans knowing what’s coming next.

“Awwww Nanami I didn’t realize you were the type to like being called such sweet pet names, I always took you for the type to hate them.” Gojo commented before continuing with “Maybe I should start calling you Honey Bun.”

Kento glared at the white haired man while he angrily munched on one of the rice balls that you had packed him, it was delicious as usual. You always insisted on waking up early to pack his lunch for him even though he has told you countless times that it isn't necessary. Gojo eyes the food curiously taking in the presentation of it.

“Hold on now Nanamin, who exactly packed this lunch for you?” The white haired man questions noticing how much effort was put into the lunch.

Gojo likes to think that he knows Nanami well enough at this point and he is certain that the stoic man wouldn’t put this much effort into his own lunch instead opting to buy a sandwich from a local convenience store and call it a day. Kento sighs not really wanting to tell Gojo about you, not because he was ashamed of you, that's not the case at all. Instead, it’s because he knew that the second the special grade sorcerer knew of your existence, he would never hear the end of it. Popping one of the sausages in his mouth the blond chews as slow as he possibly could to avoid answering the question.

Gojo groans at this before chirping “Come on now Nanami you can tell me anything.” to prove his point Gojo props up his head with the palms of his hands to signal that he’s paying attention.

Kento exhaled heavily before wiping his mouth with a spare napkin, turning his head away from Gojo he finally mumbles “Mypartnermakesmylunchforme.” saying it so quietly that Gojo wasn’t able to catch it.

“Nanamiiiii speak up. I may have six eyes, but my hearing isn't the best in my old age.” Gojo retorts, chuckling at his own joke.

Kento turns his head to face the lanky white haired man, a bright red painting his freckled face and his ears. Taking a deep breath the blond finally says, “My partner makes my lunch for me, now that’s quite enough Satoru I’d like to finish my lunch in peace.”

The second Gojo hears the word partner he perks up immediately, questions racing through his head. He takes in the look on his junior’s face, the red painting his cheeks and ears, the look in his eye as he reads the note you left him over again. In all of his years knowing the man, not once had Gojo seen him look like this. Instead of teasing the blond Gojo nods his head in understanding.

“They must be a really great person to have you looking like this.” Gojo says softly remembering the only person to ever make him look like the blond did now, causing Kento to look up at him.

“They’re the best person I know, they make me a better man.” Kento stated as if it was a fact, the love the man had for you was obvious.

Kento reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, opening it up and turning it towards the special grade sorcerer. Inside one of the main parts was a photo of a person looking directly into the camera, a bright smile lighting up their face. Flour covering their entire being smeared all across their face and clothes, some of it even making it into their hair. Kento smiles fondly at the photo remembering how you both had attempted to try a new recipe which ended in the both of you covered in the ingredients barely any of it making it into the bowl. The blond takes the photo out of the wallet and hands it to Gojo.

“This was the result of the first and last time the two of us tried to bake something together,” Kento explained “We came to realize that we don’t make a good team in the kitchen, more flour ended up on us than in the bowl.” The smile on his freckled face grew the longer he looked at the photo.

Gojo could feel the beginnings of tears welling up in his eyes, thankfully hidden behind his blindfold. The white haired man felt so happy that his junior had found his person, thinking about when he lost his own person all those years ago. Clearing his throat Gojo composes himself and says to the man next to him “Your secret is safe with me, don’t worry.”

Hearing the man say this briefly shocked Kento before he nods his head in thanks, placing the photo of you back in its rightful place in his wallet. Reaching for one of the rice balls he breaks it in half and gives a piece to Gojo, not saying a word as he does so. The two men sit in silence as they eat, a mutual understanding between them.

When Kento returns home that night he asks if it would be too much trouble for you to pack a sweet in his lunch for the future. You nod with a small smile on your face knowing that your lover isn’t a sweets fan but that a certain white haired sorcerer is.

A/N hiya !!! this is part one of a mini series that i’m working on i hope y’all enjoy :3 reader will be having a bigger appearance in the later parts !!!

[thebibliosphere]

In case you were wondering how deep down the Batfam fixation hole I am, it's something I've actually been talking about in therapy a lot.

Not like, in a worried way, more just when my therapist asks me what I'm doing in my downtime, my answer always used to be either "sleeping" or "I don't have downtime. I have too much work to do."

Now my answer is "playing my Batman game" or "watching Batman show/reading comics/writing unhinged Batman x Muppet fanfic."

And my therapist is delighted. She's fucking ecstatic. She's like, "You have interests again!" and I'm like !!!! Because here's the thing.

Almost dying in 2019 kinda irrevocably fucked up my brain, like, a lot. Like a lot, a lot. And I've been grieving over that for the last few years as well as recovering from the physical aspects of it. And to cope with it, I threw myself into work even though I wasn't physically or mentally well enough, and that made everything worse, and well, if you've been here, you know.

My brain has not been kind to me for a long time. It still isn't. But I do the work. I do multiple types of therapy a week. I piece myself back together on the daily and try to remember what it means to be human and not just this numb static void that sometimes sounds like shrieking if you listen too closely.

And then randomly, a few months ago a friend bought me Gotham Knights on Steam, and it was like a light turned back on. The engine that'd been refusing to turn over for years suddenly sputtered back to life, and something in my brain went, "Hey, I remember this... this is fun?"

And then I started tentatively searching the tags here on Tumblr, and yeah, actually. I remember this. I remember enjoying this. I can dip my toes into this. This is safe. This is a childhood interest from Before the almost-dying-trauma. And besides, it won't get in the way of my work. This isn't going to consume me. Nothing consumes me like it used to. I'm too broken for that.

Except, haha, jokes on me because, for some fucking reason, Brucie fucking Wayne and his gaggle of chaotic crime-fighting children is what reached into my brain, picked up my trauma, and started shaking it loose like a category 7 earthquake.

I actually laughed about that with my therapist a few weeks ago. Of all characters, of all pieces of media, it's Batman that's helping me process a significant chunk of my emotional trauma in a healthy way.

The most emotionally constipated vigilante in superhero existence, and I'm weeping like a child every time I get an achievement in Gotham Knights, and it says some bullshit like this:

ID: a purple steam achievement icon that says: He'd Be So Proud Of You. Reach the maximum level as any member of the Batman Family. 6.3% of players have this achievement. /end ID.

(for context, Batman is dead in this game, and you are playing as his emotionally devastated children trying to keep it together. Wailing, gnashing, crying, throwing up etc, etc.)

And my therapist, who has sat with me through EMDR sessions and a multitude of other shit designed to rewire your brain, just shrugs and says, "Sometimes we need to externalize our emotions through safe media. For you, right now, that safety is Batman having a relationship with the Muppets."

And like... okay, yeah. I'll take the win on that one.