#this is a list no one asked for it's ok

[aethersflood]

i think i've probably already posted about this but if i listen to the waloed theme music when i'm feeling a little more tender than usual it makes me a lil teary

[malenjoyer]

Good morning 🙏🏼

I want to thank everyone their support with reblogging my stuff over the years and reblogging some of the context of the situation.

Tumblr and Instagram is filled with the most supportive people I’ve ever had the chance of meeting. The last time something like this happened, I didn’t have much support, not even from people I thought were close to me. It took me a year or two to be okay with being perceived again in fandoms. So I’m very grateful for everything.

I just wanted to post that I appreciate all of the asks and I’ve been reading all of them. I actually get anxious I’m spamming everyone too much so I probably won’t reply to everything. Please don’t feel pressured to support me financially, there’s is a free option on patreon to follow. I’ll post future project plans and occasional updates because I still love comics and I still love DC/Marvel. I do enjoy having people following along for my art/reading journey so I would always be okay with people just following for free. My brain is telling me this post is too long now so I will go 🙏🏼😭

[satangcrush]

not the same anon as before but am also searching for om fanfic scraps

please drop some more author recs 🥹🥹🥹

hi nonnie!!! here are some more (i got tired of typing like half way through so some of them are short in description but i truly recc all of these authors okay!!!! also all sfw unless stated otherwise) <3

@aspiringtrashpanda : my recent discovery and love love her writing so much. do check out her obey me month, as well as her masterlist here

@devildom-dedicated-daydreams : suggestive content; this is just a blog dedicated to one fanfic but i highly recommend if you're into like those manhuas/manhwas with secondary character who gets revenge with a system in place. (brain kinda stopped so just check out their work on tumblr or AO3.)

@leviathans-watching : they have a variety of fandoms, so if ure multifandom, u can check out their pinned post for more. if you're only interested in obey me, you can check out their masterlist!

@demonfamilytherapist : i actually got recommended this account from a reblog on the previous ask but i havent had the time to go through their works. but here is their masterlist for reference <3

@shabootldoo : they write for a multitude of fandoms which you can check out in their pinned post, but if you're only interested in obey me, they specialise in writing for character/character (e.g. Solotan, SoloSim, etc etc)

@once-in-a-blood-moon : love jo's brain and im always having fun reading her thoughts (especially as a solomon enjoyer) and you can check out her sfw masterlist here and nsfw masterlist here

@obeythebutler : rosh has many many works for you to check out from one-shots to headcannons to series! you're in for a ride <3 this is their masterlists here (do note that there is nsfw work here so DNI if ure a minor, thank u)

@eraofkalki : vee doesnt have a masterlist yet but im tagging her works here for you to have easy access - young master, solomon's paradox, cor meum

@elsecrytt (NSFW): they havent written for the obey me fandom in a hot minute but i do come back to their masterlist from time to time to READ

@three-realms-archive : one of the first few blogs that i followed when i made mine <3 they do a variety of content too from oneshots, short snippets, hcs and series! they have quite a bit of work so you'll def have fun checking out their masterlist

@books-and-catears : another one that was recommended in a previous reblog on the last ask. i also havent had much of a chance to check them out but this is their masterlist for reference!

@obae-me : they have some nsfw works but they are tagged as such! they do both HCs as well as longer works here. have fun checking out their works hehehe

@meggs-wonderland : they have a mixture of both NSFW and SFW, so do check it out at your discretion :> this is their masterlist , they also do self-ships if ure interested to check it out!

@zephyrchama : if you love writers who specialises in comedy, they're the one for you. their writing always gets a chuckle out of me and i also want to applaud their effort for revamping their masterlist because theres so many works that they have written so far

@mochatsin : this was also another creator that was recommended in the previous ask and i also havent had the chance to check out their works but this is their masterlist

@denpa-dere : was recommended by @/zephyrchama in the replies, do note that they do both NSFW & SFW content! just binged their house arrest series (NSFW!) in the morning lol. (great read, 10/10 recc) this is their masterlist for reference

@thebellearchives : also recc by @/once-in-a-blood-moon!! this is their masterlist for reference, they have a mix of NSFW and SFW as well as write for JJK and Trigun if you are interested in these fandoms as well :>

here are a variety of other accounts that dont really write fics but i enjoy reading/browsing as well <3

@akuzonprime : the blurbs are very cute and i hope u take the chance to go through their account!

@obeymeinfo : they post character (outfit?) sprites of the characters and its a great place to look at, if you are looking for a particular outfit hehe

@devildom-fashion-week : they archive the character battle outfits and voicelines hehe, if ure ever looking for a particular outfit (to write or draw), highly recommend checking them out

@sheepthatgobaa : highly entertaining art. 10/10 recommend. also your token luke fan. (Familial btw. Do not Perceive Kelo Wrongly.) anyways she does a lot of requests too for fanart and it’s always so funny ehheheheh

@enoe-of-noen : they have a variety of content on their blog, from art, to fic, to hcs to, whatever you are looking for, they most probably have it HAHAH you can check out their pinned post here

@featheredcrowbones : love vy's art so im adding them in too lol but do check out their art tag!!!!!

@marsvlog : so actually im also a fan of mystic messenger and seeing their pinned post of belphie and saeran artwork (made me a little feral but i digress) so if ure a fan of both fandoms, ure in for a treat hehe

@dailyraphael : my daily serotonin for fanart of raphael + bonus of cute artstyle yes

@devildomwriter : theyre a great account to check out, they do quotes, lesson summaries, writing, and a plethora of other things!!! i especially love the obey me cast as cats series that they currently have going on.

@solomams : if youre looking for someone who's dedicated to their ocs + solomon & mammon, look no further because lupe is here to save the day

@yoyvmii : also does fanart for multiple fandoms but her mammon in boothill’s outfit artwork lives in my head rent free yes

@nevvn : was recommended by @/once-in-a-blood-moon in the reblog! love love love their solomon drawings, this is my personal fav from them

@solomiracle : was also rec by @/once-in-a-blood-moon! how could i have forgotten abt this, It's one of the staples of the solomon lover community! also what I love abt them is that they consistently reblog old artworks/works of obey me and its always pleasant seeing these artworks floating around again~

@starry-miki : recc by @/once-in-a-blood-moon!!! i did a customary scroll through the account and omg the marketable plushies artwork is so cute LOL, I also love this solomon artwork of theirs, its so pink and he's so cute lol

@sane-omblog : recc by @/in-the-bushes-miki! another one that I forgot to include lol. anyways love their art style, its so cute and whimsical!! (sidenote, i was rooting for teenage satan to win the poll but the art of baby satan was so cute that I was like yeah nvm)

@susujelly : another one recc by @/in-the-bushes-miki! its my first time seeing the account but the pinned post of solomon as the cat made me lol'ed so hard

@afraidofbee : also recc by @/in-the-bushes-miki! also another one that I forgot to include again lol, love seeing their posts of sheep!MC just absolutely getting up to mischief. and the artstyle is super endearing and this is one of my recent favs from them

+ some others i want to recc but I forgot in my initial post so im adding them as I go (im def forgetting people again lol): @bearakero : only posts about thirteen!! love love seeing fanarts of thirteen and this is my personal fav, just think that u do so much justice to her!

guys my brain died btw

Edit #1: guys wait let me self promo also lol hahahahah um my writing blog is @satanghulu if u wanna check me out 💖 okay fr bye

edit #2: this is the previous post if you are still looking for more writers in the fandom!

[espighty]

All of this could have been avoided if Narinder could just say “Morning.” like a normal person.

[alien-bluez]

if you draw ships then how about swiftli?

he fell asleep watching the garfield movie of all things-

[wallbeatjournal]

Are true riverdale fans of the opinion it is a very good and nearly flawless show or does being a true riverdale fan mean being able to mock writing choices

it's long-running serial television plotted a season/half at a time so definitely not even "nearly" flawless.

BUT. i'm not doing combat with the writing team. i'm not actively reading against the text the way i have to in order to enjoy something like supernatural or the 90s robin comics or the fucking sopranos, which are patriarchal christiancore copworld rapeworld white supremacist horrorshows that hate their minority audiences, with like 2 good creatives involved and martyring themselves to fight the good fight on sparse rare installments if you try to approach them sincerely.

riverdale writing staff are like a favorite smart problematic tumblr mutual to me. I don't always like what's on their blog or who they're referencing. but we're in the same community and i'm interested and inspired and i trust their agenda overall, even when i see shit i wouldn't have fucking posted. but bc i'm not being condescended to or actively spited i'm not gonna condescend to or spite them, you know?

i expect rvd to age like twin peaks (another very uneven, highly referential serial juggling a couple of intensely cool metanarratives on top of its core story). and twin peaks fandom mocks twin peaks all the time. twin peaks includes some CLUNKY shit. it's kitsch. it's camp. it has a second season that is largely ASS. james is there. and on top of that it also includes some genuinely offputting-to-me stuff that just bothers me to sit through, even though i feel like i understand and respect what they're going for with it. i just don't want to watch someone sweep the fucking bar for minutes and minutes as entertainment. OK!!?

...so yeah. mock riverdale but in the right spirit. is that an answer? do i sound like i'm chugging the flavoraid koolaid fresh-aid? probably.

[chloesimaginationthings]

Sorry if you’ve already put this somewhere and I didn’t see, but what’re your favourite ships?? :3

Women

[lynzishell]

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Asher: Is that everything? Atlas: Yeah, I think so.

Alexander: Lex, it’s good to see you. Lex: Hey pops, how are you? Alexander: I’m good, good. How are you? Lex: Oh, I’m fantastic. Where’s your son at? I need to— Aha, there he is!  

Lex: ASH!!! Asher: Holy shit, look at you!! Lex: Me? Look at you!! Asher: Ahh

Julian: Hey kid, I’m told we’re supposed to start heading outside. Phoenix: Okay, we’re just about ready. Thank you so much for doing this for us. Julian: Oh, I’m honored. I’m so happy for you two.  

Iris: Dawn? Just wanted to let you know, the guests have all arrived and are taking their seats outside. We’ll be ready to start soon. Dawn: Oh goodness. Okay, thank you. Megan: I better head down. Unless you want me to stay. Dawn: No, no, I’m good. Will you tell Atlas to wait for me? Megan: Of course.

[jessicas-pi]

it has occurred to me that it is truly preposterous that I, the Maker Of A Ridiculous Number Of AUs, have never yet played that ask game that's like "send me an ask with a character pairing and an AU and I'll write 3 sentences"

anyway, send me an ask with a character pairing (or just some characters) and an AU and I'll write probably way more than 3 sentences

[lunearobservatory]

@hibiscuslynx YES HE HAS TATTOOS!!!!!!

here's the full ref sheet from. originally an au that's. erm. it's not dead i have reference sheets so it's clearly. alive.

i've posted the ur gay sketch before for sure 100% here it is again oops sorry

anyway, this has turned into my standard florida design :) this boy fuct up with ink!!! good for him

[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.

[scootarooni]

i took a nap, woke up and knocked this out in one sitting guys i think im invincible < -- guy who is five minutes away from passing out

vv still image under the cut! vv

[spacebubblehomebase]

Your art looks so yummy and soft it tastes like soft ice-scream with different flavours for each character. GIVE ME MOREEEEEEEEEE

THIS MAKES ME SO HAPPYYY!!! 💙💙💙💙💙

HOW'D YOU KNOW!!!? No one has ever connected those dots for YEARS!!! 👀 See my headline? "With Love Of Every Flavor..." That's something I wrote in my adolescence which I just never bothered to change. It pertains to my posts and how I make them with love (you can cringe), but I also purposely used it to allude to- you literally guessed it- ICE CREAM!!! Which, according to my family, I was infamously obsessed with. STILL super obsessed with actually! (Tho in my defense, the Philippines is hotter than HELL rn.) So yes! I do see my own art as scoops of ice cream. Have been for- again -YEARS! Besides a "space bubble" for introverts -and people who simply love in a different flavor- to feel safe in, that's EXACTLY what I wanted my art to be seen as!!! Which is why I mostly draw sweet things. (Key word: Mostly.) I wanted to convey the giddiness I feel whenever I eat ice cream with my art. So hearing you say that, tho I know naming the taste of an artist's work isn't all that new, really feels like an achievement! THANK YOU!!! ...Okay. Now that you made it this far through my sappy sugar rush induced writing, I know I went off on a tangent, but since ya'll have been really hyping me up lately, how about an update? On my AU? Just a short and sweet reward? Nothing big. Not much lore, but let's saaaaay... it'll beeeee... today? 🫣 Hehe. More, indeed. ^v^ Stay Tuned~! -Bubbly💙

[dyketennant]

oh i can already tell i’m about to have some really unpopular opinions about the edge of sleep tv show

[albonium]

wild to me that it takes hours for people in the usa to vote. it's never taken me more than 10 minutes and that's including the inevitable chit chat with the people there because they're either my parents' neighbours or the parents of people i went to school with.