#I love craftsmen

[bjurnberg]

My work boots are the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned.

Also the most comfortable. I chose them after trying on several different brands and comparing lifespan vs usage vs comfort - I needed them for a physically demanding job, not the weekend hiking trails. I could have easily chosen cheaper boots that would have lasted long enough to be worth their low price, but I know the Sam Vimes Boot Theory and knew weaker, less comfortable boots would make my life harder in the long run.

So when the outside edge of the heel started wearing down after three years of heavy use I went to the shop I got them from and said “hey this is a common problem for me with how I walk but now it’s affecting my ankles and knees and I don’t wanna have to buy a new pair, is there a way to fix this?”

The salesman at this very fancy upscale boot store said “oh yeah, there’s a shoe repair place that can give you some heel guards - it’ll keep the rubber from wearing out.”

So at 8am this morning right after my 9hr shift ends I went to the shoe repair shop and it is the most hole-in-the-wall, is-this-a-real-business-or-a-mafia-front, am-I-gonna-get-shot tiny cinder block cube I’ve ever seen in my life. I grew up plenty poor and love me a good hole-in-the-wall business, but going from upscale store to this cash-only repair shop gave me whiplash. Wasn’t expecting this when a guy who wears three piece suits to sell boots said it’s the best place to go.

The skinny kid behind the counter looks somehow 16 and 25 at the same time, but when I tell him this place was recommended he smiles and says to hand over my boots. I hand him the vaguely warm foot-smelling boots, and stand in my socks in the 3’ square entryway surrounded by every color leather polish you could buy and watch as he turns my boots around in his hands, sizes up a crescent moon bits of plastic, and unceremoniously hammers tiny nails through them before handing them back.

The heels are perfectly level again. I can walk without almost rolling my ankles. They don’t clack loudly on the pavement or feel different. This is gonna fix my knee pain. It cost $10.

This kid had every tool he needed within arms reach, worked fast and smoothly, I was in and out the door in less than 8 minutes, and it only cost $10.

I didn’t think anything could cost only $10 anymore. I’m so used to hyperinflation prices I was spiritually thrown back to the 1400’s visiting the cobbler in town square. This kid might have been that cobbler and just decided to never die.

I’m still reeling from the whiplash, and gobsmacked at the price, and thrilled I didn’t have to go buy new, worse work boots (cuz I don’t have that kind of money for a second pair, I’m expecting these ones to last a decade) and it feels like I just experienced one of the rare little chunks of magic that floats around our world.

[bolithesenate]

BOLI

do you like hair sticks?

If so, what's your favorite one?

I feel like Sifo would use the crescent moon ones

I DO!!!

hairsticks are apart from big clasps the only thing that can reliably hold my mass of hair together so i wear them quite often!

though i only have three, two wooden ones and one carved from bone

the wooden ones both look the same and originally had charms as the one in the pic attached at the end, but they both got loose and fell off 😅 i might try to fix it at some point but tbh the dangly bits always got caught in my hair so this is more practical

the bone one is so nice tho because its very long and holds really well

technically, i also have a metal one that looks like asword, but it is too short and slippery for me to actually use in daily business. I only bought it as a holy symbol prop for my dnd Cleric XD

so yeah, pro tip: you want your hairpins to be made from a porous material like wood, bone or amber, those have more grip

bonus thing:

hairpins are really hard to get where i am so the wooden ones are from the thrift and the other two from renfaires, but my ultimative dream would be to find a nice jade hairpin someday because THE CUNTICITY IS OFF THE CHARTS

[fragmentedblade]

I'm playing Bailu's sidequest again and, well, same story

[teaboot]

Yo, no hate, I totally get the confusion!

From the perspective of someone who isn't in the arts, this would seem pretty dumb, yeah? Offering someone money for work they already did, on a picture I already have access to, thay I could just ask someone to do on me for free, right?

Well, there are a few reasons:

As an artist myself, I know how hard it is to make a career out of art. Nobody wants to hire you, those who DO don't want to pay you, and it's so, so easy to have your ideas ripped off or stolen. I believe that by giving money to artists I appreciate, I can help them continue to exist and continue creating more.

I'm benefiting from their work. I love their art, and I want it on my body, and they put work into creating it, so shouldn't I compensate them? It'd be kind of unfair for them to put blood sweat and tears into a piece on for me to walk in and go, "mine now", right? If I hired the tattoo artist to design something for me, it would cost money. So why is it fair to rob the tattoo artist AND the original artist so I can save a buck? I've just cheated two different professionals.

By asking the original artist if it's okay to get their work, and if they'd like to charge for it, I'm giving them control over their own creations. Maybe it's a personal piece. Maybe it was a commission for someone else who doesn't want matching tattoos with an internet stranger. I'm letting them choose to say what happens to the art that they've made, and in an era of the internet and pinterest and AI theft, that's not something we all get to have anymore.

TL/DR: Asking permission and offering payment is a gesture of appreciation and respect that grants an artist the dignity and bargaining power they need to survive in an increasingly hostile environment.

Or,

Failing to adequately compensate individual artists and craftsmen for their labour has directly to the death of art and craft at large.

[togenabi]

things I won't tell you

vinsmoke sanji (opla) x princess!reader

♡—the new royal chef doesn't seem to recognize you without your crown. who's going to tell him? . . . certainly not you.

word count♡— 7.3k (cries)

genre♡— fluff, royal chef x princess au

content notes♡— opla sanji, afab!reader is a princess, reader wears dresses, reader has siblings (oc's), sanji made me google fancy food, mentions of zeff, sanji gets jealous if you squint, no use of y/n, proofread (but only a little)

also on♡— ao3

author's note♡— this is detached from any canon, its basically just a big chunk of sanji fluff. please enjoy!

You've never really dreamed for yourself. You had always just let life fall into place around you.

The kingdom is prospering, entering a new age of commerce. Artists, craftsmen, and inventors sail seas just to be part of it.

Your sister Chrysanth is a wise queen, as you always knew she would be. She’s fair and just, always knowing what’s best for her people.

On the other hand, your brother August is Captain of the Royal Guard. He’s an excellent swordsman, who has yet to be beaten ever since he took command.

As for you, the youngest of the three, you have no idea what you’re doing.

The most likely outcome would be for you to be married off to settle some political arrangement. Unpleasant as it sounds, you would have agreed to it for the sake of the kingdom.

But the moment you said so, Chrysanth gave you a look unbecoming of a queen and immediately shut it down.

“Look,” She gestured to the view outside. “Does that seem like a kingdom who needs help to you? I work my butt off precisely so that we won’t have to depend on anyone else.”

“Besides,” She adds, “if anyone wants your hand, they should fight to the death for it.”

And so, for now, you work for your sister. Helping manage general affairs and the kingdom’s business agreements—even though she could easily hire someone else.

“I love that you insist on working,” Your brother told you once. “You could have been a socialite, but you’re here with us, serving the people.”

Of course you are. Because even though you didn’t necessarily plan it, you are proud and committed to your work. You’re happy with your own, mundane accomplishments.

Or at least that’s what you try to remember when you glance at the tall pile of documents on your desk. You’ll relish the satisfaction that will come when it’s gone.

The candle beside you burns low, flame becoming dimmer and dimmer as the hour grows late. You should probably replace that. Pulling open your drawer, your eyes scan its contents for a candle.

You’re fresh out of the tall ones that fit in the candleholder, but you have one sculpted like a cinnamon bun—a gift from August a few birthdays ago. It’s not exactly the best for illuminating your work, but something makes you strike a match and light it still.

It smells like freshly baked cinnamon rolls, you can’t help but inhale the decadent scent deeply.

The aroma triggers an embarrassing grumble from your stomach. You feel your ears burn despite the fact that no one else is around to have heard it. Perhaps a midnight snack is in order.

Unexpectedly, light seeps through the gap beneath the large wooden double doors to the kitchen. In all your years, you’ve never encountered anyone in the kitchen at two in the morning.

Normally, you wouldn’t want to disturb them. Knowing the chefs, they would likely fuss over you and put whatever they were doing on hold.

But you fear that your stomach will disagree with that, so you decide to knock and enter the kitchen anyway.

There’s only one chef inside—a tall, blond man with his back to you. You don’t think you recognize him. He must be one of the new hires.

When he hears your footsteps on the stone tiles, he turns around.

His expression, at first, is curious. But after a beat, his mouth curves into a charming grin that catches you completely off guard.

“Hello there, miss.” He nods in greeting, eyes alight with a look that no one usually dares when it comes to you.

“I’d be happy to fix up something for you if there’s anything you’re… craving.”

When you expected the chef to fuss over you, this isn’t what you meant.

Your first instinct is to look at his surroundings for alcohol. Perhaps he’s intoxicated and not in his right mind?

But the (sober) chef seems to have mistaken your silence for bashfulness, because he presses you further, “Trust me. I may be new around here, but I know my stuff.”

Unsure how to respond to his blatant (or insolent, your sister would say) behavior, you try to gently decline his offer.

“It’s alright,” You say, still uncertain about him. “I was only going to make a sandwich and be on my way.”

“Nonsense!” He insists. “If you’re hungry at this hour, it means you’ve been busy working too hard.”

He approaches the pantry, retrieving one too many things for a mere sandwich. Your concern grows when he grabs garlic, several leafy vegetables, and a lemon.

“You, my dear,” He points at you with, is that a cucumber? “—deserve a proper treat.”

You sigh, it looks like he doesn’t intend to back down. Maybe you should just let him do what he wants and see if he can back up all the talk. Pulling one of the chairs from beneath the kitchen island, you take a seat as you observe the flirtatious chef.

At least he seems to be enjoying himself. His hands work with the kind of precision that only comes from years of experience; and he smiles proudly when he sees you watching.

“I meant what I said, I’m a damn good cook.” He’s begun chopping the vegetables. “My name’s Sanji, by the way.”

The question now is whether or not you properly introduce yourself. It's difficult to deny that you enjoy his attention. The casual and relaxed manner he addresses you with is… a nice kind of different. When else are you going to experience that if you let this go?

Alright. For tonight, you're not a princess. You're someone who stumbled upon a chef—a handsome one, it dawns on you. This is a chance encounter in the palace kitchens. And, you glance over at the dressing and ingredients he prepared, why should you turn down good food?

You decide to only give him your name. It feels strange introducing yourself without your title, but you don't tell him that.

“It makes sense that your name is as captivating as you are.” Sanji's voice is smooth, easygoing as he moves around the kitchen.

Nothing about his demeanor changes. Either he really doesn't know anything about this country's royalty, or he's skillfully controlled his reaction and is hiding that he knows.

There's also a third possibility: that you look so haggard and tired that you simply do not appear royal anymore.

Subconsciously, you look at your typical office clothes… Maybe you should go on that fitting the royal stylist has been pestering you about.

On the topic of style, however, your companion has unusual attire for a chef. He’s wearing a buttoned shirt with a necktie. His black slacks match the suit jacket draped over one of the chairs.

Your attention is diverted when Sanji begins rolling up his sleeves. He juices the lemon he had sliced in half, arms flexing as he twists the fruit.

Clearing your throat, you ask him a question to distract yourself. “What are you making?”

He smiles as if he’s glad you asked. “A dish that suits a beauty like you, of course.”

Several minutes later, he presents you with a sandwich. The slices of bread are whole wheat; the layers of ingredients between them are all in varying shades of green.

“A green goddess sandwich, made with care for the goddess in front of me.” Sanji pushes the plate towards you. 

It's easy to stay composed despite the flattery because your hunger makes you focus on the food. “It really does look excellent.” You compliment earnestly.

He gestures to the plate before placing his hands in his pockets. “Tastes excellent too, try it.” Shaking your head at how confident he’s being, you pick up the sandwich.

It might just be the best sandwich you’ve ever had in your life. The flavors are fresh, and you catch the hints of lemon blending with the dressing. The bread is soft, contrasting with the crunch of the cucumbers and sprouts.

You're completely surprised, and it must be obvious based on how Sanji reacts. He lets out an adorable, pleased laugh that makes you want to hear it again.

“I knew you’d like it, ma chèrie.” Sanji reaches a hand towards your face. Your heart just about stops when he brushes his thumb to wipe at the corner of your mouth. His eyes look so intense, like you'll drown in them if you stare too much. 

It feels as if your face could burst into flames at any second, so you turn away to hide your flush.

As Sanji grabs you a glass of water, you ask him if he’s eaten. “I did, but it’s nice that you’re worried about me.” He answers. You almost choke on your drink.

Once you've finished your meal, you stand then grab your empty plate and glass. But Sanji mirrors you, blocking the way to the sink. Why must a chef have such broad shoulders?

He shakes his head, trying to get the dishes from you. “Can’t let you do that, love.”

“Why not?” You frown, pulling your arms back so he doesn’t reach them.

“It’s late. You shouldn’t be working any more—”

“But you’re allowed to?” You look up at him defiantly.

Sanji stares at you. You stare back. There's a few seconds of silence before you sprint the other way, running around the kitchen island to get to a different sink.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Sanji yells after you.

You’re almost there, but Sanji catches up to you easily. Before you know it, he’s blocking the way again and you curse, remembering his long legs.

“Sanji, let me do the dishes.” You plead, but he’s as stubborn as it gets.

“The knives I used need to be washed anyway, and I’m not about to let your pretty hands do that.” Sanji winks, and you give up. He pries the dishes from your hands.

Seeing your shoulders slump disappointedly, he offers you a compromise. “If you really want, you could throw the rubbish in the bin and wipe down the counters.” Okay, you can do that.

“Are you sure this is the only way I can repay you?” You ask, grabbing a washcloth to begin cleaning up.

“That’s plenty of help, my dear.” Sanji answers.

But after a moment, he seems to have gotten an idea. Your brows raise in curiosity as you question him, “What?”

“...I was just wondering,” He begins, looking at you with that flirtatious glint in his eye. “Since we had such a wonderful time tonight, would you be willing to join me again?”

“That depends,” You press your lips together to suppress the smile blooming on your lips. “Will you cook for me again?”

Sanji laughs, throwing his head back. “Darling, that’s a given.”

He gazes at you while he dries his hands. There’s a grin on his face as he asks, like he already knows your answer. He probably does. He’s probably right.

“Same time tomorrow?”

Even though you got back to your chambers at an ungodly hour in the morning, you woke up feeling the most refreshed you’ve ever been. There’s a spring in your step as you get ready for the day, and you pick clothes that are slightly more dressy than your usual attire. Sanji shouldn’t be able to notice that you dressed up for him, right?

But your sister does. 

Seated at the head of the table, Chrysanth stops eating to analyze your clothes the instant you show up to the dining hall for breakfast.

You could practically hear the gears in her head turning. Avoiding her gaze, you bow to greet her before taking your seat, “Good morning.”

The queen only smiles at you knowingly, eyes still flickering over you with enraptured excitement. Very much unlike a queen, however, she kicks your shin underneath the table.

“Ow!” You yelp.

“So…” She lets the syllable drag on. “Who’s the guy?”

You focus on piling food onto your plate, choosing to ignore her. “What guy?”

“Your guy.” She says, giddy. “Is he your guy yet?”

“Hm?” Is your only response. Breakfast looks lovely. Should you ask for coffee or tea today?

Chrysanth kicks you again.

“Hey!” You rub the skin to dull the pain. “Stop that!”

“Stop avoiding the question!” She persists, waving a hand to gesture at your clothes. “You only wear that skirt when you want to impress someone.”

Mentally cursing her for knowing you too well, you continue to act nonchalant.

“Really, it’s nothing.” You try to clarify. “I just thought that it would be a nice change.”

She doesn't believe it. Not one bit of it. Thankfully though, she drops the topic. Your shoulders relax as the discussion switches to work-related ones. She’s telling you about her plans to approve a restaurant in the museum when your brother joins you for breakfast.

Once he’s seated, August takes one look at you before tilting his head. “Who’s the guy?”

Chrysanth looks far too smug and triumphant than you’d like. You bury your face in your hands. Would Sanji also tease you if he knew?

The rest of the day is uneventful, the only change to your typical work day being that you avoid your siblings like the plague. You have lunch brought to your office and skip on dinner.

Sanji had already started cooking by the time you got to the kitchen. “I hope you don’t mind,” He says. Of course you don’t, whatever it is smells amazing. “I thought I’d start early so you wouldn’t have to wait too long.”

“Thank you for going through the trouble.” You say, glancing at the ingredients he had laid out: there are crushed tomatoes on the counter. Pasta simmers in a pot on the stove. You recognize the tubed shapes with ridges surrounding them.

“Rigatoni?” You ask, turning to the chef.

Sanji nods, “With a simple, creamy tomato sauce. Nothing too extravagant, but still specially made for you.” 

He puts the pasta into two bowls, grating parmesan cheese on top. Your mouth waters.

“Here you are, darling.” It pleases you more than you thought it would when Sanji sits across from you to eat as well.

There’s something homey and yet luscious about the taste. He really outdid himself. “It’s delicious, Sanji.”

“I live to please.” Sanji says before standing to retrieve two wine glasses and a bottle of red. “Zweigelt.” He says as he pours for you both. “Juicy and fresh, with just the right amount of acidity.”

You almost swoon at the rasp in his voice. You never realized someone could be so attractive when talking about wine.

As he clinks his glass with yours, you think to yourself that this might be your favorite dish from him. However, true to his word, he surpasses your expectations every time.

After a few weeks, on your sixth (or is it seventh?) time meeting Sanji past midnight, you've reached the point where you're able to open up to each other beyond the pleasantries that come with the food.

He tells you about his dream of traveling the seas in search for the best ingredients the world has to offer. You admit how you sometimes feel like life is just taking you along with the current—that you’ve never had a burning, passionate dream to aspire to.

“I don’t think that’s a bad thing,” Sanji hums contemplatively. “There aren’t any deadlines when it comes to finding dreams.”

“I do worry that you’re working yourself to the bone, though.” He adds, and for once, his smile looks different somehow. It’s a fond, gentle smile that’s sweeter than the macarons he made for you.

“What do you mean?” You take a sip of water.

“While I'm flattered you enjoy my food so well, do you eat properly? Shouldn't the palace be treating you better?” This time, you actually choke on your drink.

Could it get more embarrassing than this? Your ears burn as you cough, trying to clear your throat and settle your heart.

“Breathe, love." Sanji, ever the gentleman, is next to you in a flash of a second. He pats your back gently and supportively. “I'm sorry if I startled you.”

“It's alright—and, I do eat,” Your voice comes out raspy. “It's just that I don't usually have an appetite for dinner.”

“But that leaves you hungry for a midnight snack?” Sanji asks, a knowing expression on his face as he refills your glass.

“Exactly.” You smile. Thankfully, your throat has calmed down. Picking up a vanilla-flavored macaron, you savor the taste that melts sweetly on your tongue. Returning to his chair across from you, Sanji watches you eat happily. 

“I take pride in my desserts, but that chocolatier in Belltower street… The sweets are just—out of this world, I tell you.” He looks so excited as he talks, eyes aglow and gestures animated. “The chocolates are handmade and everything. I'm sure you've heard of it?”

“Um…” Hesitating, you certainly remember issuing a business permit for a chocolatier; but you can’t say you’ve gone there yourself.

Sanji’s eyes widen in disbelief. “Surely you’re pulling my leg. You haven’t been?”

“...”

He observes you quietly, like he's considering what to do next. There have been instances when Sanji stays quiet, doesn't eat, and only watches you chew. The times where he insists that he's content with seeing you eating well. Those were awkward at first, but you learned that was just part of spending time with him. Your reaction was a reward on its own.

But this isn't like that. Something feels oddly different in the way he seems to be gathering his composure. The silence almost worries you, but thankfully he breaks it first.

“You’ve saved me the trouble of thinking of a place to take you to.” Laughing, Sanji practically glows in elation. “You’ll love it, I promise.”

You had a peculiar sense that you would’ve loved going anywhere, as long as you were with him. 

Feeling bold, you suggest, “I’m free this Saturday if that’s good for you?”

He gives you that soft, enamoured look again. Something makes you hold your breath, your fingers tingle and the entire rest of the world slows down. You’re almost certain you’re giving him the same look.

“Even if I wasn’t, love, I would have gone to you anyway.”

The next day, a Thursday, your brother unexpectedly knocks on your office door.

“Hey,” You smile. “Is something wrong?” 

It’s rare for August to look for you in the middle of the day. If either of you need to speak, it’s usually you who heads into the training grounds to talk to him. The other way around occurring is curious.

“I wanted to invite you to watch the knights train this Saturday.” He says coolly. “It would boost their morale if you spoke a few words.”

The commander goes on to speak, not catching that you’ve short circuited somewhat, trying to rack your brain for a valid excuse to decline him.

“And maybe, you could pick out a personal knight like I’ve been telling you.” August prompts. “You really should—”

When he pauses, squinting his eyes at you suspiciously, you suddenly recall why you stopped trying to hide anything from him. 

“You already have plans.” He says, face carefully blank.

“Yes.” Thank goodness he understood. But wait, his eyes are widening. Why is he making that face? Why is he looking at you like he just figured out—

“You have a date.” Darn it all.

August is bewildered, not knowing what to do with the information he put together. He awkwardly brushes his fingers through his hair.

“...Is he a good guy, at least?” He settles with, asking carefully in that concerned way he does when he looks out for you.

Biting your lip, you nod. “He seems to be, so far.”

“Okay.” August responds. “Does Chrysanth know?”

“It’s nothing serious.” Yet. Yet? Do you want it to be? “You’re the first I’ve told.”

A worrying thought suddenly pops in your mind. Your turn to him, distressed. “Please don’t tell her yet, August.”

“Why?” His frown deepens, like he’s about to ask more questions. Unfortunately for him, you decide you’ve had enough talking about Sanji to your brother for today.

“Aren’t you busy?” You grab his arm, guiding him out of your office. “Don’t you have training to get to?”

“I do, but—why can't Chrysanth know?” You open the door for him and try to push him out, but August plants his feet; still trying to figure you out. He doesn’t budge an inch.

But then he makes that face again. That annoying ‘aha!’ face.

“You really need to go, good luck with training! Tell the knights I said hi—” You manage to shove him out with all your strength, but at the last second before you close the door, August turns around again.

“He’s a commoner, isn’t he?” You slam the door at his face. 

It doesn't matter. Sanji's status will never matter to you. Not when he's holding your hand so sweetly while he guides you through the winding streets of the city. You recognize some shops by name, knowing who owns what and when they established their business. But Sanji knows these streets, and he's more than happy to show you.

“Ah, one moment, my dear.” Sanji pulls you towards a quaint little cart overflowing with flowers. He flicks a coin to the vendor, eyes scanning all the vibrant colors and bursting petals. 

Somehow, without you needing to tell him, he picks one in your favorite color. You're starting to feel like that's just part of being with Sanji—that he knows what you want, and knows what you need before you do.

The flower is soon tucked into your hair, behind your ear. His fingers linger on the side of your face—and normally, you'd break eye contact and shy away. Maybe let out a halfhearted excuse that you should continue on your way. But you don't.

You smile back at him, not bothering to hide the genuine happiness you feel. And when Sanji pulls back, you're already holding out your hand before he reaches for it. There’s something in his eyes. Something that makes you feel like you're walking on air when he tugs you along again.

As planned, Sanji takes you to the chocolatier he told you about. The building is small, tucked between larger shops in the middle of a busy street, but there’s no doubting the quality of their confections.

The elderly chef behind the counter greets Sanji like a grandson she hasn’t seen in forever. She ushers him in, enthusiastically pointing to this and that, saying she moved some furniture around as he suggested.

“It looks perfect, grand-mère.” Sanji smiles, taking in the beautiful glass display. Chocolates of every flavor cover the shelves from end to end.

Grand-mère’s eyes light up when she sees you. She casts an approving look at Sanji, “I like this one. She might even be too good for you.”

“That’s because she is.” Sanji laughs, and you pretend to browse the menu while they talk.

“No need for that, ma chèrie.” The menu is plucked from your hands. Sanji sets it aside, pointing instead to where grand-mère is behind the counter. She's wrapping up a box of chocolates that she hands to you.

“No need to pay, dear.” She smiles, patting your hand. “If he ever gives you trouble, let me know.”

Sanji whisks you away through the streets again. You've never been this far into the city before. Looking back at the path you've taken and not recognizing any of it, you know you’d be absolutely lost without Sanji by your side.

“Almost there.” He tells you, pointing to a cobbled path that inclines upwards. 

What meets you at the top of the path is a small clearing. A stunning tree with blossoms on its branches stands at the center. Flowers and petals flutter away and fall onto the iron bench beneath it.

“Sanji, this is lovely...” You trail off, letting go of his hand to catch a flower into your palms. The flower twirls delicately between your fingers before you turn back to Sanji, tucking the blossom into the pocket of his suit.

Sanji takes your hand before you can pull away, bending down to press a kiss to your knuckles. 

“Not nearly as lovely as you.”

The two of you spent hours under that tree, sharing chocolates and stories—feeling like this is how things are supposed to be. Not necessarily the flowers, or the chocolates, or even the sun setting beautifully in so many warm colors.

Just Sanji. With you, next to you. 

All at once, it sinks in that he could be the dream you've been waiting for. But you don't tell him that.

Being enlightened on your feelings for Sanji becomes a second thought, however, when you’re swamped with work the following week.

“Don’t these people ever get tired?” Chrysanth groans, leaning back on her chair. “Why is planning a festival so hard?”

You approach her desk and place another stack of documents onto it. The numerous piles are getting concerning.

She scowls at the papers, then scowls at you. “Don’t you ever get tired?”

“Of course I do.” You tap a stack of documents to her left. “The guest list for the ball needs to be approved by tonight so we can send invitations out.” She groans again, but picks up the list anyway.

You’re unable to see Sanji as often as you’d like, but you both promised to meet once a week. Even if it’s only for a few short heartbeats together.

You dearly miss him. You think about him as you hand Chrysanth menu plans for the ball. If he saw it, he’d say that he could come up with something better.

She glances at the menu, studying it. Or at least, that’s what you thought she was doing—until her next words proved you wrong.

“So, how are you and that chef doing?”

Your heart isn’t in your chest anymore. It sank down, deep into the depths of the earth. It also must have taken all the air in the room along with it. How did she—

“August?” You blurt out.

Chrysanth shakes her head, “Zeff.” Oh no. Sanji’s boss knows? Does Sanji know that you’re—

“According to Zeff,” She proceeds, cutting off your thoughts. “One of his subordinates has been cooking a lot of personal meals over the last few weeks.”

“I can explain—” But your sister holds up a hand. Your mouth snaps shut.

She calls your name, and then you realize how serious her tone is. “Are you familiar with the kitchen’s rules when it comes to using ingredients and supplies for personal use?”

“...I’m afraid I'm not.” You didn’t know the kitchen had any such rules… but surely Sanji does. Your voice stutters, “I, did—is he in trouble?”

“He isn’t.” She answers, though her expression is still grave. “But I think that you should be aware of how much he’s doing for you.”

Chrysanth opens a drawer to retrieve a list of kitchen rules. Reading it over, everything is standard and straight to the point. You find the answer to your confusion towards the end, a small, nondescript bullet that reads:

All staff must reimburse the cost of all ingredients used for any reason outside of official duties.

“He must know who I am, then.” You say, feeling relieved that he didn’t break some sort of impossible rule. “He wouldn’t have done so much for me if he didn’t.”

Your sister purses her lips, letting the silence linger for a second before responding, “He doesn’t know, love.” She hands you another document. “He’s been paying back every cent out of pocket.”

Tracing over the timestamps and the different ingredients listed, you stare at an outline of your time with Sanji. It’s nice to reminisce, but you can’t help but wince whenever you spot something particularly pricey. What on earth are you to do with this man?

“Zeff recognized your name when he asked Sanji who he was cooking for.” Chrysanth explains. “He didn’t tell him, but he came to me and requested for Sanji to be repaid.”

“Since anything served to me counts as official duties of a royal chef.” You piece together. 

“Exactly.” Chrysanth nods. “However, doing that would expose your title to him. Which is why I wanted to speak to you about this first… You should tell him.”

“I know.” Letting out a deep sigh, you agree. Sanji deserves to know more than anything. Nevertheless, the thought of him changing how he treats you—or worse, leaving—because of your status, frightens you to your core. 

“I’ll talk to him tonight.” You say, but your sister’s expression slowly changes. What did she plan this time?

“Or maybe, you could put the kitchen dates on pause and tell him in a few weeks.” Surprisingly, she hands you an invitation to the ball.

“I can’t bring Sanji as my date.” No matter how much you wish you could.

“Are you sure about that?” Chrysanth is unable to contain her grin. “Open it!”

‘…you are cordially invited to the spring masquerade ball.’

You gasp, “You turned it into a masquerade?”

“Yes, I did. You won’t believe how much convincing it took for the ministers to agree.” She rolls her eyes, but then her smile returns. “Don’t waste my hard work and have fun with your man, littlest sister.”

You laugh, not expecting this outcome after all that. “I love you, even if you made me go through so much emotional turmoil for fun.” She cackles.

“Of course I had to make you sweat after what you put me through.” Chrysanth scoffs, “I can’t believe I had to hear about your love life from Zeff, of all people.”

“Ah,” She says, remembering something. “Speaking of, why’d you guess August first earlier?”

“...”

“...Did you tell him before me?” She gasps. “How could you! Give that invite back!”

“I didn’t think you’d approve.” You admit shyly. “He’s a commoner.”

“If he treats you well—which, he obviously does—I could care less about all that.” Chrysanth reaches for your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “Only those stuck up ministers will react negatively, I’m sure. We can deal with them easily enough.”

When she lets you go, she abruptly adds, “He better be cute though.”

That sends you laughing again. “Oh, Chrysanth, he’s the cutest!”

He certainly is. Especially when he sees you and grins, opening his arms wide in expectation. You fall into his embrace when you’re near enough.

Sanji takes your hand and places it on his arm, leading you away from the kitchens.

“Some of the others are still in there planning for the ball.” He explains. “It seems preparations are keeping us both busy.”

Sanji takes you to the greenhouse, which you’ve never seen at night before. Various patches of vegetables and shrubs line the space. There are trees and flowers towards the back too. It feels like a secret hideout, being here with Sanji. 

“I miss spending more time with you, love.” He whispers.

“Me too.” Your heart melts thinking about how much he gave for you. You wish you had the courage to tell him the truth now, while he’s looking at you like you put up the stars in the sky, but you can’t. You’re not ready yet.

Reaching your hands up, you caress his face gently, brushing your thumb across his cheek. He places his hands over yours, keeping them there. 

Sanji closes his eyes to savor the moment, and you let him. You two stay like that, your hands becoming enveloped in so much of Sanji you feel like you could recognize him with your eyes closed, with a single touch.

There’s a certain familiarity to him at this point. You would probably have some difficulty adjusting back to life without him in it. He’s so familiar that you could probably draw him. He makes you want to try.

“...I was just wondering,” You say with a knowing glint in your eye. Does he remember those words when he said them to you that first night? “We’ve been working hard for this ball, wouldn’t it be a shame not to enjoy it together?”

You give him the invitation, and he throws his head back laughing. You send him a confused look, but it all becomes clear when he pulls out an identical invitation from his jacket.

“Ah, how brilliant you are, mamour.” Sanji embraces you again, and you bask in how perfect it feels to tuck your head into the curve of his neck.

“It will be easy to find you even with a mask.” You murmur into his skin. He shivers. “You’re so goddamn tall it’s not fair.”

“I’m not too worried about you finding you, either.” Sanji begins to sway slowly with you still in his arms. It makes your heart skip a beat. You can’t wait to dance with him.

“Are you confident you’ll find me first, then?” You ask, adjusting your hold around his middle to snuggle in better.

“I’m not sure about being first,” He ponders. “But I’ll be sure it’s you when I find you.”

The greenhouse became your new meeting place while the palace was buzzing to prepare for the ball. You could only meet for a few minutes, but you treasured the time you shared just the same. 

Once, Sanji tried to feed you one of the expensive fruits growing there, but you declined, making up an excuse that you were allergic. He had looked at you strangely, but didn’t press you further.

You couldn’t find the time to see Sanji the week of the ball at all. Your time was spent welcoming foreign dignitaries, discussing business and trade. You and your sister had a marvelous time shutting down a marriage proposal from some duke from the north.

It amazes you how much you’ve changed since meeting Sanji. Had the duke asked before you met him, you probably would have considered it seriously. Whereas now, your standard is far too high. The man you choose must be able to get to your heart by cooking you the best food in the kingdom and all the seas. 

You’re glowing by the time you finish getting ready for the masquerade. The dress you chose is in your favorite color, with the skirt twirling dreamily when you turn. 

Chrysanth permitted you to enter the ballroom a few minutes late to avoid a royal entrance. You use the time to compose what you want to say to Sanji when you tell him the truth.

‘I’m a princess, and I think I might love you’, is that a lot to say? You sigh, smoothing your hands over your dress.

The clock on the wall chimes. It’s been fifteen minutes since the ball officially started. You put on your mask, tying the ribbon behind your head to secure it.

After one last glance at yourself in the mirror, you head to the ballroom—looking much more collected than you actually feel.

Maybe you shouldn’t have bragged to Sanji that you would find him easily, because you don’t.

You were mistaken when you thought all you’d had to do was look for a tall, blond man with a blue mask. (Sanji’s mask is surely going to be blue. He wouldn’t consider any other color. You bet your foot on it.) It’s unnerving how many people fit that description tonight.

You even find your brother before you find Sanji. August is dressed in surprisingly simple, all black attire. He looks more like a gentleman than a commander, lacking all those sparkly medals he’s usually required to wear at events.

“Where’s your date?” August asks, ducking his head slightly so that you can hear him over the crowd. “Chrysanth bragged about setting you two up.”

“I haven’t found him yet.” You answer dispiritedly. “I thought it would be easy.” 

August looks around, and you know that if he knew what Sanji looked like, he would be able to track him down in a flash. You’re about to ask what you should do when August suddenly bows, extending a hand to you.

“May I have this dance, fair lady?” He asks in a fake pretentious accent that instantly makes you laugh.

It would be nice to say yes, but you desperately want Sanji to be your first dance. August would understand. 

But you aren’t able to decline, someone else beats you to it.

“I’m afraid her first dance is spoken for.” Sanji’s voice reaches your ears and suddenly the room is brighter than it was.

You almost gasp, elated that he found you. Were it not for that frown on his face, you would have voiced out your joy.

August and Sanji stare each other down. Neither of them say anything, but it’s clear that their first impressions of each other aren’t the most pleasant. Not liking the hostility you’re sensing is building, you tug at Sanji’s hand. 

Your brother’s eyes soften at that, and he bows again, this time to say goodbye. “I’ll see you later then.”

You watch August go, and Sanji grumbles something you don’t catch under his breath. You'll have to properly introduce them at some point, but worrying about their relationship can wait. You really must cheer up this grump who thought he was going to miss your first dance.

“Dance with me, stranger?” Intertwining your fingers together, you smile and take in how handsome he looks. His suit is still black, but there are several accents in dark blue—the same color as his mask.

The deep navy color makes his eyes look almost crystalline, and you recognize why you love him so immensely when he smiles.

“I would be honored.”

Sanji is more graceful than you expected. His movements are controlled and precise, never moving too fast and always making sure you’re falling into step beside him.

He’s proven, once again, that he can surpass your every expectation. Sanji spins you around, catching you by your waist and grinning before sweeping you off your feet again.

By the end of it, you’re left breathless due to far too many reasons, and they all involve him.

You had tried bringing Sanji to a romantic spot; maybe a balcony, or somewhere by a fountain in the gardens—but it seems that a lot of other people had the same idea.

Everywhere was crowded, but you suppose where you ended up is romantic in its own way. With the sky being cloudless tonight, you could see every star twinkling away through the greenhouse’s glass roof. 

Let the stars bear witness to you pouring out your heart to this man.

“Sanji…” You start, mentally preparing yourself.

“Yes, ma chèrie?” Sanji tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear, you have his complete attention.

“There are things I must tell you.” You swallow the lump in your throat, not brave enough to look him in the eye yet; though you grip his hands tightly in yours.

Sanji waits. He doesn’t complain that you might be holding onto him too tightly, or nag at you for taking too long to put your words together.

When you finally look up to meet his eyes, you find the strength to breathe it out, “...I’m a princess.”

There’s this moment again, when you hold your breath and wait for his reaction; like when you first told him your name. Suddenly, it feels like you’re in the kitchen eating sandwiches with him again.

And, just as it did back then, his reaction surprises you.

His expression barely changes, the only difference being the barely-there furrow of his brows in concern. 

“I know, love.” He says.

“What?!” You drop his hands in shock. “Since when?”

Sanji blinks. “Since the moment we met.”

“But, I—why did you pay everything back? Why didn’t you ever mention it?”

His eyes widen, “Ah, is that why you wouldn’t eat anything from me these past few weeks? I knew you couldn’t be allergic to pineberries.” 

“Sanji, answer the question.” You pout, and he rubs your arms in an attempt to soothe you.

It’s Sanji’s turn to compose himself, you notice. He looks like he wants for your time together to stay lighthearted, when the thoughts in his mind are far from it.

“You didn’t want to talk about your duties, so I never asked.” Sanji shrugs, but you can see him getting nervous. 

“As for reimbursing the ingredients, I suppose I was worried that… you wouldn’t think of our time together dearly if I was just another chef on your staff.” 

Your heart shudders when he lets out a shaky breath. Oh Sanji.

“But that’s the truth isn’t it? I am, and yet I—” He pauses, eyes searching yours desperately. “If I didn’t pay for it, I would be admitting that a chef was all I’d ever be to you.”

You open your mouth to speak, but he cuts you off. “I don’t regret it. I would make the same choice if I had to.” Through the mask, you can see his resolve, but his hands shake as he holds you.

“I didn’t expect to feel this strongly about you.” Sanji continues, “You’re just so lovely, making me feel like I could take on the world for you.”

With your hands quivering the slightest bit, you pull at the ribbon behind your head. Your mask clatters to the floor. Raising your hands towards him, you push his mask up until it’s off, revealing the face of the man who has completely enamoured you; body and soul and all.

You think back to how the colors lit him up beautifully, that one sunset you shared under that blossoming tree. And now, he’s still just as beautiful, in this greenhouse under the moon and the stars. 

You love him all the same as you did then and every moment before. With the weight from keeping secrets gone from your chest, you finally let yourself admit it out loud.

“I love you, Sanji.” You confess. “I’ll go with you, if you’ll take on the world.” You try to say it calmly, but tears build up in your eyes. “You mean so much to me. You’re my dream.”

Sanji inches you closer, wrapping one arm around your waist while his other hand cradles the back of your head. “I love you too. More than you could possibly imagine.”

You quip back at him while wrapping your arms around his neck, “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

Sanji leans in the same moment you do, lips meeting in a passionate kiss that sends sparks running through every inch of your being. He pulls you impossibly tighter against him, strong hands caressing your back and holding firm at your waist. Your fingers rake through his hair, touching him to make sure he’s real. He’s here. He loves you. He knew. He always knew.

That night, you realized that your favorite taste from Sanji is his lips on yours. But, once again, he won’t hear you tell him that.

…

Sanji first saw you when a ceremony was held to welcome the new palace staff.

Everyone’s attention had been on your sister, the queen. Understandably so, but his eyes always strayed back to you. You looked gorgeous, wearing a stunning dress perfect for a princess as yourself. A cape draped tastefully down your back. And your crown sparkled brightly under the sun; but try as it might, it couldn’t be as dazzling as you.

Sanji was drawn to you instantly, and he thought he would go on with his life never understanding why.

That is, until you walked into the kitchen at two in the morning to make a sandwich.

It would have been impossible for him to not recognize you. Regular office clothes or not, something was different in the way you carried yourself. It was difficult to miss.

Other people would have thought you appeared mundane. And yet, Sanji found you the most beautiful then.

Because you let yourself smile more when you don't wear your crown. 

But he won’t tell you that.

© togenabi 2023 | see here to be added to my taglist ♡

tags: @songsofadelaide-archive @amitydoodlez @sweetexistentialism @writingmysanity @hotchocolattee @dimplewonie @hearts4zoro @kenkenmaaa @ay0nha @watercolorskyy @holymusicalmothman @appalost

author's note (yes, again)♡— sooo, what do we think about sworn knight!zoro x princess!reader ? 👀

[freaktwinsoftheconcrete]

New covers for the light novels, each made look like the cover of Sportiva.

Translation of the quotes / headlines:

Kageyama 1:

“The Monsters of Spring High”

Shoyo Hinata/Korai Hoshiumi [Little giant's genes]

Kotaro Bokuto/Kyoomi Sakusaya[Memory of the legendary five days]

Inarizaki High School V Karasuno High School [Giant Killing of the Century]

Hinata 1:

BRAZIL [Close coverage of the sand ninja] Shoyo Hinata

ARGENTINA [Why did you go to the other side of the world] Tooru Oikawa

Tsukishima:

Climb up, adventurer. - V1 league promotion survival

A generation of monsters aiming to rise to the top

[Sendai Frogs] Tsukishima/Koganekawa [Tamaman Elephants] Kindaichi/Onagata [Nichikyaku Automobile Lions] Yamagata

Hoshiumi:

Small and strong is cool

Super minionism.

[Opening interview] “Those who challenge height”

"Small Soldiers Who Challenge the World" Hinata/ Yaku

Sakusa

Pursue “the ideal end”

[Ultimate all-rounder] Kiyoomi Sakusa

Ushijima:

Be strong, be right, and follow your own path!

[Japan's main gun Ushiwaka] Wakatoshi Ushijima

Kenma

"I'm not interested in winning or losing. Is it fun or boring?"

Is it Kodzuken? [E-sports special issue]

[Let's talk about Kodzuken!] Lev Haiba (Model) /Tetsuro Kuroo (Japan Volleyball Association member)

Yaku:

The patron saint arrives

``How many times have they saved the team?

Libero Special Feature [From Europe with love] Yaku

[Learn from the craftsmen!] Komori/Inunaki/Heiwajima

Hinata 2:

For the sake of my friends, the sun will rise again.

[Will he be the savior of Japan?] - Shoyo Hinata

Miya:

"I don't care whether it's praise or insults." Challenger style

[Compete against the world with three swords]

Bokuto:

I am an ordinary ace

If you have the energy, you can do the opening interview.

[Japan's spirited spirit] Kotaro Bokuto

[Talk about old and new teammates]

Kageyama 2:

Thorough debate! Who is Japan's command tower?

[Control the monsters] - Kageyama Tobio

[What's wrong with being super aggressive]

[Strength that accepts weakness]

Oikawa:

Insignificant Pride Theory

[World-class control tower from Miyagi] Toru Oikawa “Adversity is my true strength”

[Mentor speaks] Jose Blanco “People are defeated when they set their limits.”

[Testimony of an old friend] Hajime Iwaizumi (Japanese Team Athletic Trainer “Proud partner + big idiot”)

[flanaganfilm]

Do you have any “don’t meet your heroes” stories from working in Hollywood?

Absolutely. Hollywood really is a place like no other. If you grow up loving cinema, certain people can take on mythic status in your imagination. Actors, filmmakers; they are larger than life. They become idols in the truest sense - an image that is actually worshipped. But Hollywood is actually full of very weird human beings who have been lucky enough to make their living in a world of make-believe. A huge percentage of the people who work in this industry are strange birds, unsuited for working anywhere else.

Some of our biggest stars wouldn't last ten minutes working a real job; some of our most exalted filmmakers collapse inward if they're in a crowded room. They can have unusual talents, or beauty, or unique perspectives and abilities that have propelled them to various levels of success, or even stardom, but they're just normal, neurotic people.

And success, fame, and money can really twist people. It can be like radiation. They can go full Gollum from it.

But most people who work in Hollywood are not stars at all. The vast majority of people who work here are not rich, not famous. Most are hardworking craftsmen and craftswomen who are fighting every day to make a living, scraping by the best they can in an industry that is brutal, impersonal, and impenetrable. But every single person in this business - whether they are superstars or not - are just ordinary people. They're insecure, anxious, and prone to all of the failings we mortals are prone to. Some of them are awesome; some of them are assholes. But most of the people here (even the superstars) quietly feel like they don't belong, or that they don't deserve it, or that their sheer ordinariness will be discovered any minute. In fact, it's the people who seem to feel the opposite - those rare people who feel that they DO belong here, and deserve the lifestyle this industry can afford, who are inevitably the least likable ones I've met.

As I've been lucky enough to keep working in this business, I've met a lot of the people who I idolized along the way. Filmmakers and actors who I admire so much, whose work has shaped the trajectory of my life without them knowing it. I've been starstruck every time, and I am still am - I stammer, I freeze, and I kick myself for what I say, or don't say, or how I said it. I'm not good at it. I have acute social anxiety, and when you throw me at someone I admire, I turn into a blubbering idiot. They say "don't meet your heroes" because you may (likely will) be disappointed by just how ordinary they truly are. Or worse, they may even turn out to be people you wouldn't want to interact with in normal circumstances - your heroes might be people you wouldn't want to invite to coffee. The persona you have admired is a product in itself, something you bought, something you have taken home and displayed proudly in your imagination... but the human being behind that persona is full of all the ordinary failings. That can be really hard to reconcile. So yeah, a long-winded way of saying that I've had the experience of meeting people I admired a great deal only to be disappointed, or worse. I've got some nightmare stories in there where the actual person violently shattered the idol I'd built in my imagination. I won't share those stories, there's little point in that, but instead I'll talk about the rare exceptions - the few heroes I've met who were every bit as awesome as I'd hoped they'd be. They may say "never meet your heroes," but they haven't met Mark Hamill. I worked with Mark on The Fall of the House of Usher, and he is one of my favorite people. Kind, generous, humble, and so, so funny. I was nervous and excited to meet Mark for the obvious reasons, because of the hero he was in my imagination - but I got to meet Mark the actor, the father, the husband, the humanitarian, and the friend. Guillermo Del Toro - one of my biggest heroes, his work has meant so much to me. And I was terrified to meet him. But he is one of the most joyful, honest, sweet-natured people I've met in the business, and his love for movies is infectious. For me, the man himself exceeded the myth.

I've been lucky to meet other exceptions to this rule, heroes of mine who exceeded my expectations - Ewan McGregor, Mick Garris, Brian Henson, Heather Langenkamp, Henry Thomas - and yeah, I've had the other experience too. But I try to focus on the exceptions. It can be unhealthy to idolize people - unhealthy for you, and unhealthy for them. But it's truly awesome when someone is even more amazing than you imagined.

[sunshineandrosesnoraincamemyway]

thinking today about how much I love literally all fiber arts. I am hopeless at almost every other kind of art, but as soon as there is thread, yarn, or string I can figure it out fairly quickly.

I learned how to knit when i was eight, started sewing at nine, my dad taught me rock climbing knots around that age, I figured out from a book how to make friendship bracelets, I've made my own drop spindle to make yarn with, and more recently I've picked up visible mending. I've learned embroidery through fixing my overalls, and this year I've learned how to darn and how to do sashiko (which I did for the first time today). After years of being unable to crochet I finally figured it out last night and made seven granny squares in just a few hours.

I want to learn every fiber art that I can. I want to quilt, I want to use a spinning wheel, I want to weave, I want to learn tatting, I want to learn how to weave a basket, I want to learn them all. If I could travel through time and meet anyone in the Bible, high on my list are the craftsmen who made the Tabernacle.

I want to travel the world and learn the fiber arts of every culture, from the gorgeous Mayan weaving in Guatemala, to the stunning batik of Java, to Kente in Ghana. I want to sit at the feet of experienced men and women and watch them do their craft expertly and learn from them.

Of every art form I've seen, it's fiber arts that tug most at my heartstrings.

[s0fter-sin]

prince!ghost and lord in waiting!soap

ghost is a warrior prince, next in line after king price and it’s always been accepted he would be the lone ruler; never one for entertaining the courts or indulging foreign rulers trying to consolidate their power. he hardly acts like a prince at all, in name only when he spends more time as a pseudo captain of the guard. price has never begrudged him that, not when he himself has been a lone king since his inauguration

though he’s a warrior prince, he’s never lost the favour of the people; many see him as a guardian even if he doesn’t interact with the people as much as benevolent and stalwart king price. who he does interact with is the kingdom’s children; always ready to bend a knee and listen to bright voices, to praise stick swords and shields or hear the plight of a struggling family. it was a common belief that if he wasn’t out protecting, then he was with the protected; face covered, blonde curls shining in the sun

soap’s always loved ghost. as his lord in waiting, it’s been his job to attend him since they were young and even as a child, he’d idolised him; his skills in battle, his surety. he thought his life would be nothing but service, clothing a brat prince and making sure his shoes shined. but ghost has proven more than that; he treats him as an equal, consults him on strategy and court politics and over time that idolisation turned into love

and ghost has always felt the same. he’d begrudged the idea of a lord in waiting, not wanting someone always in his business but then came this spitfire who never missed an opportunity to push back on him; to make him dig deeper. johnny is more than some mere servant; he’s his confidant, his best friend, his… everything. he could be simon with him, not prince ghost

but simon figures that out too late

king price gets word from king shepherd, a kingdom they’ve only recently stopped feuding with and he’s offering up his son, prince graves, as a way to bond their kingdoms together and firmly put war behind them. price is ready to deny him, he doesn’t fear war from shepherd, when he sends some ancient laws that leave him unable to refuse. he hates it, hates that he’s ruining ghost’s happiness and feels like he’s betraying his adopted son but there’s nothing he can do

graves comes to their kingdom within the month and it’s clear from the moment he walks through their gates that he’s the opposite of ghost; arrogant and conceited, his ceremonial armour glossy and untouched by battle. he’s dismissive of their servants, of their ways, of their people and ghost hates him

graves insists that the wedding happen as soon as possible, pushing the craftsmen and cooks beyond their limits to prepare and every moment ghost spends with him, the more he dreads his wedding day. every evening he retreats to his room, exhausted, and it’s all johnny can do to keep him afloat; trying to keep him positive as ghost falls away and simon breaks in his arms. he wants to whisk him away like the old tales, the pain his oldest friend and love is in making his heart ache but all he can do is promise to be there with him

but it seems graves wants to take even him away

“soap’s been my lord in waiting since we were children,” ghost protests, voice barely clinging to civility. “i wouldn’t want to lose such a valuable worker.”

“there are plenty of decent servants in our kingdom; you’ll forget this one soon enough,” graves waves away, carding a possessive hand over his curls and it’s only bc he’s looking for it that soap sees ghost’s jaw twitch beneath his neck gaiter. “it’s custom for one marrying into our kingdom to embrace all that it has to offer, leaving who they were behind to become someone better. you’re entering a new life with me; you don’t need the baggage of this dreary place.”

soap feels sick as he walks behind them, his blank expression hiding all sign of his breaking heart.

“soap is beholden to me,” ghost declares. “we were sworn together by the old laws. i’m afraid a custom isn’t enough for me to break a vow to the gods.”

graves lets out a disgruntled noise, tugging harshly at one of ghost’s curls with only a thin veil of fondness; his conceding smile not reaching his eyes.

“i never made a vow to the gods,” johnny points out later. “price gave me to you because he was sick of me setting fire to the kitchens.”

simon hums and sets his freshly cleaned armour aside, turning to him with a twinkle in his eyes he’s barely seen since sheperd’s missive. “you pinkie swore that you would never leave me; that’s more powerful than any promise to the gods,” he says and soap’s thrown back fifteen years, to a willow tree big enough to touch the sky; to two boys from different stations who didn’t care that one was dressed in silk and the other in scraps.

johnny feels a lightness he hasn’t in a month as simon winks at him. “besides, do you really think graves is smart enough to figure it out?”

the days pass quickly, graves’ veneer of affection growing ever thinner, and before either of them are ready, it’s the eve of ghost’s wedding.

he’s said nothing, done nothing but stare at the wedding robes graves had tailored for him in the fashion of his kingdom and johnny doesn’t know how to break the silence. he draws out each second as he fusses with the cape piece and ensures the shoes shine in the fire light until he has no more excuses.

he sighs as he straightens up, brushing off polish onto his pants. “i suppose this is where i leave you,” he says with a weak smile but it quickly dies when simon still doesn’t look at him. “i’ll be here in the morning to help you get ready… good night, simon.”

johnny bows and makes for the door, trying to convince himself he didn’t just say goodbye.

but he’s stopped by simon’s hand loosely wrapping around his wrist.

he looks back as simon finally tears his eyes away from the robes, looking at him with such clear longing it almost brings him to his knees.

“i don’t want graves to be the first man to touch me, johnny,” he confesses and johnny’s breath hitches. “i don’t want to be married to another… not when the one i’m set to wed isn’t you. but if i have to do this… please let me feel loved one final time.”

simon’s thumb brushes the back of his hand; their kingdom’s greatest warrior caressing him with a touch light as silk. he doesn’t pull johnny in, doesn’t need to; johnny’s already sinking into his touch.

desperation and love tinge every movement; johnny dancing his fingers over simon’s neck gaiter until he all too happily removes it, baring his scarred cheeks and lips. johnny kisses each one, willing his love and his touch to linger above all others as they move together; sharing breath, sharing body, sharing soul the way they wish they always have.

when ghost makes his way down the aisle, it’s not in the fine embroidered robes graves had laid out for him. he’s in his battle armour; dark and weathered, the sign of the ghost, the warrior prince, going to battle. the only thing missing is his helm, tucked under his arm.

showing his hair; curls gone and shaved tight to his skin.

a thing done only in a time of great mourning.

graves looks irate and it’s the only spark of joy ghost feels as he stops before the altar; set beneath the willow tree where johnny promised himself to him. one final insult.

ghost is silent throughout the ceremony and in spirit and in grief, so is the entire gathered kingdom until the priestess reaches the final vows and suddenly, a great roar rises above the crowd as seemingly every child in the kingdom swarms the altar.

ghost is too shocked to do anything but let them push him away from graves, bullying their way between them like they’re preparing to protect him just as he’s always protected them.

graves is furious but the children stand firm in the face of his threats until he moves to strike one-

and freezes as soap’s blade finds his throat.

“you would dare hurt these children?” he growls, sword following graves as he stumbles back. “you’ve kept up your charade the entire time and here is where you show your true colours. i think it’s time i show mine.”

graves splutters as johnny turns to the priestess and king price, falling to one knee and offering up his blade. “your grace, i wish to challenge prince graves for the hand of prince simon!”

his voice rings clear and he feels the eyes of every person in the kingdom.

but he only cares for one man.

who is watching him with more love than he’s ever felt.

“who are you to challenge me?” graves sneers. “you’re nothing more than a servant; no better than the dirt on my boots.”

johnny doesn’t bother to look at him, too caught in the love in simon’s eyes and the grateful look on king price’s face. “then you should have nothing to worry about. you’ve been crowing your accolades from the rooftops since you got here; let’s see if you live up to the hype.”

because simon only ever introduced him as his lord in waiting.

never as sir soap- his second in command and one of the greatest swordsmen their kingdom has ever seen.

[snailygoon]

I was recently reading a post about the skull of a young ancient greek girl that was found buried with a sculpted clay wreath of fruits and myrtle flowers still on her head. The post spoke about how luxurious funerary wreathes of gold made by extraordinary craftsmen were a common practice in the Hellenistic period, and were a Luxury reserved for the wealthy and esteemed. But this was the burial of a commoner. An ordinary girl that someone loved so much that they hand sculpted and painted her a wreath of flowers that would never die.

Grand artifacts and elaborate tombs are cool, but there’s just something far more moving about seeing the more intimate moments of love and humanity being preserved like a time capsule. Whether it be through ancient toys, letters, household items, etc. love persevering through time

Anyways, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it and wishing I could know more about her, so I wanted to make something in her honor 🌼

[whiteheartlight]

I love that the Toa Metru has so many career nerds in it. like yes sprinkle some dark academia into this fantasy sci fi world with robot cops and elemental magic. just get it all in there. those last Toa we talked about? warriors so connected to their elements their favorite thing to do was, for example, digging or swimming. these new Toa? arguing over the subjective cultural importance of past recollection versus future planning. studying the stars for prophecies while making fun of weirdos who have visions. probably reflecting on how they would get the others in line if they were a particularly unruly group of students expected to pass exams in about three weeks. several PhDs and top-of-the-field craftsmen present in the room and all of them are about to learn they're really good at smashing things

on the other side, Matau knows he's really good at smashing things but will pretend he has a PhD in whatever is most convenient for him as soon as he becomes a Turaga (don't tell anyone his degree is actually in engineering. not just anyone gets to smash-drive new vehicles on Metru Nui). these are the greats

[tossawary]

Regarding "The Hobbit" film trilogy, even if I ended up personally disliking and resenting how much time and focus the elf characters (and others) ended up taking away from the dwarves whom I think deserved more focus as rich internal characters (I know that studio pressures are a factor in that terrible love triangle and so on), I still... vaguely appreciate the effort to create and include named female characters like Tauriel, when the book is sadly lacking in them. I think she's fine, actually. Comparatively, there are many other elements in these adaptations that I think are much, MUCH worse.

But still, if you want to add female characters to this story, the obvious answer to me seems to be to just make half the Company into dwarf women? (With similarly fancy beards and other facial hair! Because I think that's fun.) It's just... so much easier?

Do NOT come at me with that "dwarf women are rare" bullshit. Unreliable narration. Logistically unlikely. Also, if you believe that "men are the warriors and craftsmen, the women stay at home" is how dwarf society strictly functions (boring, honestly, on top of being incredibly sexist), I could argue that the Battle of Azanulbizar and other struggles probably left a significant dent in this dwarf group's male population, leaving behind many widows and mothers without children to pick up the work. The battlefields have come to and TAKEN both Erebor and Moria from the dwarves. I see no good reason why dwarf women would not have equal investment in reclaiming their home and the gold. Many of the Company are not presented to be formally trained warriors, anyway.

Now, ideally, we could do way queerer stuff in terms of both romance and gender here, but we know cowards with veto powers would not let this happen. Still, I feel like basic genderbending would have been a very doable move and is, actually, a very reasonable ask of an adaptation that would have added some depth to the story even if you didn't acknowledge the change at all.

Like, preferably, this would be an adaptational change that would be directly addressed. Maybe all of the Company appear male at first due to traveling that way (and assumptions made by humans and hobbits), then Bilbo might learn that some of the Company are dwarf women when he becomes closer to all of them. We could have a brief scene acknowledging that dwarf women are fighting these battles for their pasts and their futures too. It doesn't have to be a big thing! They can just be there. Existing. Participating.

I even think it would be fun if two of the dwarves were actually an older married couple traveling together, instead of brothers or cousins, because loving married bickering and battle couples are fun. You can have running jokes in the background about how Smaug's invasion ruined their wedding day, and going back and forth with "you never take me anywhere nice" @ each other whenever they're stuck in Goblintown or the Mirkwood dungeons. (I like seeing good marriages & partnerships in fiction and established couples going on fantasy quests together. I just think it's neat.)

But another (sillier) direction is that you could just cast some actresses in beards to play some of the dwarves, then leave the fact that some of these characters are probably dwarf women (traveling as men) as a fun detail for the audience. Bilbo is either too oblivious to notice or much too polite to bring it up at all. It's canonically compliant to the text this way!

Now, obviously some few people would have complained that Tolkien's work was being ruined by "political correctness", but they complained anyway about Tauriel (when there are MANY other bad choices in these movies), and what worthwhile arguments could they have possibly made against genderbending some of the THIRTEEN dwarves? Like, most casual fans I know cannot NAME the entire Company, who get so little character development in the book that the films had to come up with unique designs and backgrounds for most of them anyway. Bro (directed towards someone objecting to the idea of including female dwarves), be real, there's no way that you honestly cared this much about "Nori the Dwarf" before right now.

[its-not-a-pen]

—Terracotta—

Ok so I visited xi'an during my trip back to china (3 months ago?), and this idea popped into my head during the 9h train ride back to shangdong. I am of course 100% projecting my own love of the terracotta army onto Qin Shi Huang, in reality he did not care for this pit of mud statues depicting lowly commoners. In fact, no one ever bothered to write about it and they were lost to history until 1974 when some farmers digging a well stumbled upon them. But it's exactly the reason I'm so fascinated by them. QSH's tomb has not been excavated, and although I have a running joke about cracking it open--mercury vapors be damned--none of the riches inside will ever enchant me as much as the chance to see the face of a person who lived during this time.

Notes under the cut:

#1

the title Qin Shi Huangdi means "First Emperor of Qin" and was given to QSH by later historians. He actually called himself the Shi Huangdi, "First Emperor", and that is the title I've gone with here.

in English the other kingdoms are translated as "states" (i guess to avoid confusion?) but in chinese they are very much kingdoms.

The terracotta warriors used thousands of craftsmen, many of whom were slaves from conquered kingdoms. From a storytelling perspective I thought it would be more streamlined if there were two main artisans who reported directly to QSH.

QSH's clothes are based on the overly complicated courtly regalia. which has 12 symbols that only the emperor is allowed to wear

Notice how this hat is ROUND at the front??? Well I CERTAINLY DIDN'T. HAD TO REDRAW IT!!!!!

the stripped shirt is based on this Chu woman figurine. Clothes were fairly unisex during this time and I thought it was a nice fit.

#2

Paperwork: writing was done on books made of bamboo slips. Anecdotally, QSH had an impressive work ethic and would read 100 bills every night.

Bronze Goose lamp: ok this is actually a Han dynasty lamp pls forgive me. I saw this bad boy at the xi'an history museum and it's bewitched me body and soul. The goose neck is hollow and connects to a reservoir of water in the belly, which minimizes smoke and cools the lamp.

QSH is remembered as a brutal tyrant and brilliant statesman, but I wanted to present a more human version of him here. Bored, tired and drowning in work he refuses to delegate. His new empire is balanced as precariously as everything else on his desk.

#3

The attendants standing behind him are holding little wood tablets called hu for taking notes. Their brushes are tucked into their hats/hair, inspired by Han dynasty custom. (You'll see me using Han stuff a lot. Their cultures were very similar to Qin, since it was only a few hundred years apart).

So I had a slight breakdown trying to find the correct hats for the eunuchs, and ended up redrawing everything the night I was due to publish. Closest thing I could come up with was a reference to a round-style Han Dynasty hat which evolved into this square Jin hat. Yes, this is a cry for help .

#4

the wheeled platform is 100% made up, I tried to come up with a plausible way of getting a bunch of figurines into the palace.

#5 & #6

Painted terracotta soldier

How were the terracotta warriors made

The General: Fun fact, I got to see this guy in person!

#7

The Epic Wide Shot was inspired by some Tang Dynasty terracotta figures I saw at the xi'an museum!

#8

THIS KNEELING ARCHER. ARGGGGG. He use to be my favourite guy. I even went into the pit and drew him IN PERSON. the archers inexplicably have their hair buns on the OPPOSITE SIDE OF THE HEAD. So because of him, I DREW ALL THE HAIR BUNS WRONG!!!! REDRAW!!!! PAIN AND SUFFERING!!!!

#10

Qin was famous for it's very long, thin swords. They were more useful as status symbols than actual weapons, as QSH knows from personal experience…

#11

QSH'S Tomb hasn't been excavated yet, but high levels of mercury have been detected in the soil, making the historical accounts of quite plausible.

[despazito]

leftism without economic theory is painful to watch like it is nuts that women are now fantasizing of becoming stay at home housewives again as a solution to the current state of “work”. or people imagining utopias where work doesn’t exist at all, im sorry that’s just completely unrealistic regardless of how much we can automate

i think that a deep drive to pursue goals is an intrinsic part of the human condition. we like to work, we feel good when we solve something complicated or finish a task, our brain gives us good chemicals in return. even those of us with disabilities who can struggle to work still want to do something. the issue is how labour gets treated and which labour is rewarded by society.

our current system values antisocial leadership practices that will do anything to improve capital, and creates bullshit jobs nobody likes for the sole purpose of extracting the most capital possible. it’s no surprise people feel alienated from such employment especially if your job is scamming people with a few extra steps. i think the disappearance of family trades run by dedicated craftsmen who owned their own means of production has also hurt. instead it’s been emotionally sterilized through college courses and employment by faceless corporations who kindly let you use their equipment in return for a fraction of your labour’s actual value.

jobs like teaching and nursing are the backbone of society but instead their labour is deemed worthless, so even folks performing these important meaningful roles want to quit because financially the world is telling them to go fuck themselves.

it doesn’t help that the new consumerist class has been groomed to feel entitled to everything and anything, combined with the aggravated political polarization its just a molotov cocktail for any potential social interaction with a stranger to become a nightmare. i don’t blame people who want to lay flat and check out of this environment, but in the long term removing yourself entirely from the labour force and removing yourself physically from everybody you may not like or want to be around won’t fix any of these community problems!!

imagine a society instead where jobs were created out of social need and valued by how they can improve life both physically and spiritually. personally the stuff i wanna do most falls squarely under ‘volunteer’ work in this current system. i’d love to donate my time to wildlife rehab and animal shelters, hell i’d gladly pick up trash from parks all day and clean up the environment if i got a living wage. because i know i’m doing something of value instead of making my boss richer.

there’s a reason women fought so hard for equal opportunities in the work force. we wanted to find societal roles and value beyond those ascribed to us from birth. i’m not gonna let tiktokers girlboss our way back into tradlife!! (not to mention the setup of supporting an entire family on a single income was very much a heterosexual white middle class concept, many poor and nonwhite women couldn’t be stay at home moms even if they wanted to!)

[octuscle]

So I know we can make some pretty hot guys with this app but I was wondering is it’s possible to make a bear into an innocent twink or something to ruin

(Doesn’t have to be a twink just a term for example)

I love these "I'm only asking for a friend" requests. Hermano, if you want to know what it's like to be in someone other than that hot Latino muscle body, just ask:

When you're working out, you notice that somehow you're not as fit as usual. But even worse, you don't feel like doing free weights. The fellows there stink, talk like craftsmen on the construction site. Disgusting. So you switch to the cross trainer for the time being. The lads working out there look a little irritated. Fellows like you actually detest cardio training. But you want to work on your fitness a little. And then you go to the machines. You start with kickbacks. Your butt should be crisp. The hair on your chest gets thinner, gets less, until you have a smooth soft chest. Your armpits are epilated. Your tattoos disappear.

So slowly you should stop here with your training. The belly-legs-bottom class is about to start. All the girls are already here. As usual, they giggle a bit when you come to class. You are the only man here. But the other fellows don't know what's good either. The one hour here makes a fantastic six pack. And a great ass to fuck. Shit, did you really think that right now? You have to giggle. But then you concentrate on the course.

That was really exhausting again. First you all applaud your success, then you do high fives with the girls. And now all you really want to do is take a shower. Wash off the sweat, put conditioner in your blond hair, body lotion… The usual routine after the gym…. But then you see your crush in the locker room. A dream DILF. Probably already 35, but a real man…

Oops! You must have dropped an airpod. You get down on your knees to look for it. The bulge of your crush firmly in the view. He comes towards you with his legs broadly apart. Probably he wants to help you look for it…

Pics found @xdriip and @guesswho334455667788

[pls-hold-me-im-justa-weeb]

Hello love 💗 I hope you’re doing well! Are your requests open? If so I was wondering if I could request how the Strawhats react to you having to sit on their laps. Mostly looking for Zoro’s reaction 😭😭 he’s my currently fixation and I had a dream last night that he let me sit on his lap so I’m just obsessed. But if you plan on doing headcanons then maybe you can include Luffy and Sanji as well? Or whoever else you’d like to write for ☺️.

Perhaps they’re in an awkward/cramped situation and they have nowhere to go other than on his lap. And reader can be in a relationship with him or not yet. That’s up to you :D I hope this makes sense and thank you in advance if you’re able to write this! If not, then no worries ☺️ have a lovely day!

Omg I love this so much. And yes! my requests are currently open! (also I love Zoro too and i'm so jealous of your dream). Thank you for your request :) It ended up not being exactly your request because it ended up being confession scenarios when you're on their lap, and I'm sorry about that and I hope you still enjoy what I wrote. I tried to make it up with the amount I wrote lol.

I made this pretty fluffy, because I wasn't sure you'd be comfortable with anything spicy. Reader/character do end up kissing though. . Also I headcanon that Zoro would be so soft at first with his S/O because he might not have the confidence in emotions like that.

I am so whipped for Ace and I wanted to write him for so long but didn't know how to start so thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to.

Warnings: Small spaces, kissing, confessions, swearing (Ace part - suggestive, angst if you squint)

Monster Trio's + Ace's reaction to their crush confessing while sitting on their laps

Soft!Zoro, Luffy being Luffy idk what to say, Smooth!Sanji, Flirty!Ace

Running from the marines was exhausting, you had to admit. Ducking into alleys, climbing over walls and gates, knocking over crates and barrels, and zig zagging to avoid gunfire was more exercise than you ever wanted in your life. Yet, here you were, running for your life from the marines. Again. You glanced to your side, looking at the cause of the chaos. Even though you had a huge, fat crush on him, that didn't stop him from being a pain in the ass in moments like this. You opened your mouth to scold him, but fresh blasts of gunfire from behind you lead to him looping an arm around your waist and hauling you suddenly to the side, down a skinny alley. It was a dead end- or at least looked like it.

"Now what-" you broke off your hissed annoyance with a quiet yelp of surprise as he yanked you down another smaller alley, hidden around an unnoticeable corner at the end of the previous alley. A small, ornate wooden door was hauled open by your crush's hand before you even noticed it. He shoved the both of you inside and slammed shut the door. You ignored the musty damp smell of your surroundings as you tried to catch your breath in the dark, tiny closet.

You heard boots echo down the first alley you went down. You readied yourself to fight as you heard slow steps approaching the door that was nearly pressed to your nose. You felt your partner in crime shift behind you, readying to fight as well. You held your breath, lungs burning from the effort as a hand on the outside jiggled the handle. You heard the distinct clang of metal breaking. Your heart dropped into your stomach. Did that marine really just break the door? How is that even possible? How the hell can we get out?

You barely registered the marine reporting that he didn't find you two as he walked off. You felt your crush release a breath at the retreat of the Marines.

"He broke the door" you muttered to yourself. You ran your fingers over the door, finding no latch or handle on the inside.

"Why did we have to get locked in a closet on the one island with weird fucking doors? Those damn local craftsmen are too good" you groaned. You heard shuffling behind you, and suddenly a light from a small lantern exposed your surroundings- a tiny forgotten utility closet. You glanced behind you at your crush. He held the lantern up, and looked at the door that was nearly pressing into your nose.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Zoro

"I hate you so much right now" you hissed as you let your head thud against the door.

"Not my fault. Now open the door" he said with a shrug you felt on your back. Seething, you glared at him over your shoulder before running your fingers over what could be the latch. As you suspected, it was broken. You weren't getting out of here unless someone came and saved you from the outside. You huffed a sigh.

"I can't. The marine broke it"

"What do you mean the marine broke it? If the door's broken, you should be able to open it!"

"Do I look like an expert in fucking doors? You know this island has incredible craftsmen. It doesn't even have an obvious lock!"

"Don't yell at me, it's not my fault the doors are so weird in this place!"

You took a deep breath. Bickering wouldn't get you anywhere.

"Would you be able to cut through the door?" you asked hopefully. Zoro shook his head.

"If it were just me in here, yeah. But with you here as well, I can't even draw my sword fully without cutting both of us." You nodded, understanding, but disappointed.

"Do you have the baby den-den mushi?"

He nodded, and his chest pressed heavily against you as he rummaged around. You breathed a sigh of relief as he produced it. You quickly called the Sunny, reporting the situation to Robin, who had just gotten back from exploring the town. She said she would send a clone to start looking for you, but it would be best to report it to Luffy. You thanked her, hung up, and called Luffy. You reported the situation, and Zoro had to yell at him to shut up to get him to stop laughing. He hung up with the promise of searching for you, though he didn't ask where you were. Not that you would've been able to tell him when Zoro was leading the way.

You groaned, letting your head thud against the door.

"Tired?" the swordsman asked. You nodded, shifting your legs slightly. They ached from sprinting and dodging bullets, and there was nowhere to sit. Zoro cleared his throat and shifted an overturned bucket behind him with his foot.

"You... you can sit on my lap" he suggested. His face was flushed in the lantern light, and it was unusual for him to stutter over his words. His reaction and his words made your heart skip a beat.

"Uh.. sure" you said shyly. He pulled you to his chest and sat on the bucket. You shifted your legs so your ass was on one of his thick thighs and your thighs draped over his other thigh. He seemed unsure where to put his hands. You snorted, grabbing one and winding it around your back, and guided the other to rest in your lap. You could feel the heat of his flushed face, and could smell the faint sweet freshness of sake and tang of metal. You relaxed into his embrace, leaning your shoulder on his chest and letting yourself imagine for a second that maybe, he liked you too. You felt him shift a little.

"You okay?" you asked. You looked at his face, and he almost looked like he was scowling, lost in thought.

"Yeah... just..." he trailed off. Thinking he was uncomfortable, you went to stand again. His hands tightened on your waist, holding you close. You looked at him questioningly. You almost felt like his heart was being faster against your arm

"Just?" you prodded. He looked away, and swore under his breath.

"Just... this is nicer than I thought it would be" he admitted quietly.

"Yeah, it is"

You both froze at your unconscious agreement. He looked at you, blush still tinging his cheeks red. You babbled on nervously, your face heating.

"I-I-I mean... without being locked in a tiny closet or uh... the weird old smell in here... not that you don't smell good... you do! Like sake and metal and that's hot... I mean hot like... people could be attracted to it! Heh. I mean you're really attractive and a great man so you could get anyone you wanted... but yeah I guess sitting on your lap is nice? Not in a sexual way though... just being close to you... right? Being close to people you like is gr-"

You were cut off by heavily calloused fingers guiding your chin so slightly chapped lips could close over yours. It took you a moment to be able to relax into the kiss, letting him set the pace and guide your movements. Eventually, once air became a necessity, you broke apart.

"I like you too" he said gruffly, as if the words had never left his lips before. You stared at him, meeting his serious gaze.

"Be mine." It was a demand and a question.

You nodded, so incredibly glad you ended up locked in a forgotten, tiny room with him, sitting on his lap, and sharing kisses and jokes.

Or at least, until Luffy managed to bust down the door with his sandaled foot. Zoro protected your body with his own, easily flipping you so you were under him.

"Luffy! Be fucking careful!" Zoro snapped at his captain. Luffy waved him off, questioning you about whether or not you were hungry. You giggled, nodding. As the three of you walked back to the Sunny, Luffy noticed something strange.

"Hey, Zoro. How come you said you couldn't get out? You easily could've broken that door down with your bare hands."

Zoro's responding blush had you snorting and giggling, and he playfully gently shoved you away.

"Shut up Luffy!"

"Huuuhh? What did I do? You could've easily broke it down!"

You broke into loud laughter at this, responding before your new boyfriend combusted from embarrassment.

"He wanted to spend extra time with me, Luffy"

"OH! I didn't know you two were such good friends!"

"We're more than friends now. He's my boyfriend" you announced. Luffy stopped and blinked at the two of you before a wide grin split his face.

"Okay! If you're with him all the time maybe he won't get lost as much. Now lets go! I'm hungry!"

You grabbed Zoro's hand and chased after the captain's sprinting figure, a grin plastered on your face.

Luffy

"Are you going to open the door?" Luffy asked. You let your head thud against the wood.

"I can't. The marine broke it." you replied despondently. You heard Luffy hum.

"Lemme try!"

You felt his stretchy arms slither beside you. He felt around on the door, but suddenly slumped forward against your back.

"What's wrong?!"

"Sea prism stone" he slurred, head tucked on your shoulder. Your heart thudded as you felt his breath whisper on your neck, but dragged your focus back to the issue.

"Sea prism stone?! In a door to a storage room?!"

You felt him nodding against your back. You sighed. Damn it.

"Okay. Sit down. Let me see if I can take a better look at it"

You helped him slide off your back, ignoring the electrifying feeling of his skin against yours. I really have it bad for this man. He clumsily sat down on an overturned bucket behind him, but his knees knocked into the back of yours, sending you falling backwards onto his lap. His arms wrapped around your waist, catching you against his chest.

You froze at the contact. You could feel the heat of his bare chest and stomach through your shirt, and you really wanted to blame that on the heat that flooded to your cheeks. But you knew better.

"S-sorry" you stuttered out. You felt Luffy shrug behind you before holding you closer.

"It's fine. Now we get to cuddle!"

You giggled nervously.

"You cuddle with everyone on the crew?" you asked lightly, turning your attention back to the door in front of you. The space was so small that your shoulder was still resting against the captain as your fingers brushed over the door when your arm was held out in front of you.

"Not really, I mean I'll hug them, but I like you so I want to cuddle with you."

Your gaze snapped back to the captain, who was already looking at you with a soft smile. You couldn't believe it, so you tried again.

"You like the rest of our crew though" you said softly.

"Yeah, but not like I like you. I feel funny when you're around. Like my stomach drops like I'm falling when you touch me, or laugh at my jokes. I want to hold you and kiss you, if you'll let me".

You blinked at him, a happy smile curving your lips.

"I'll let you do that, Luffy. I like you more tha-"

He cut you off with a sudden bruising kiss. It was a messy clash of lips and tongues and teeth. It was too wet and messy. But it was perfect, because it was Luffy. He was messy and chaotic, but at the same time, a ball of calm sunshine. He broke the kiss, breath quickened.

"This means you're mine now" he murmured, running his hand over your hair. You smiled.

"It also mean that you're mine" you parroted teasingly. He grinned at you, chuckling. You pressed a palm against the side of his face, thumb brushing gently over the scar under his eye.

"But that doesn't solve how we're going to get out of here" you muttered. He hummed.

"Let's call the Sunny, see who can come get us" he said, producing the baby den-den mushi after some rummaging and shifting.

The two of you called, and Sanji picked up. Luffy reported the general situation, and you filled in important details.

"Oh! Also, the two of us are dating now!" Luffy proudly proclaimed. You lightly smacked him upside the head.

"Ask me before telling everyone that!" you chided. Sanji started nagging him too about asking your partner before doing some things. Luffy sulked, and you couldn't stand those puppy dog eyes. You sighed.

"Fine, fine. You can tell the crew".

His answering grin made you blush and giggle. Sanji sighed at the captain's antics, but offered his sincere congratulations, muttering something about how it was damn time. Bringing the conversation back to the issue at hand, he promised to call Robin to help search for you, but he didn't know how long it would take. He was watching the ship while the others went out, but he would notify them as well. You were about to thank him when you were interrupted.

"Oi. Curly Brow. Is that you?" came a deep voice through the door. Your new boyfriend perked up.

"Ooohh! Zoroooo!! You found us!"

"Luffy?!"

"Zoro! We're locked in! Can you cut the door open? There's not much room in here, so be careful! Oh and there's sea prism stone somewhere in the door" you called. Sanji sighed on the den-den mushi, grumbling about how Zoro's ability to get lost finally came in handy for once. You thanked Sanji and quickly hung up. With a warning to stay back, Zoro sliced easily through the door.

"How in the hell did you get stuck in there?" the swordsman demanded. Luffy poked his head over your shoulder, grinning.

"We were chased by marines and then one of them accidentally broke the door, but the inside of the door had sea prism stone or somethin'" he recounted.

"What the hell kind of door is that?"

You shrugged, stretching upwards as you freed yourself from the cramped space.

"I dunno. It was stupid. But at least I got to confess and we kissed!" Luffy added on excitedly. Your face heated with a blush, and you hid a grin. Zoro laughed, smacking your new boyfriend on his shoulder.

"See? I told you just to do it!"

"You knew?!" you exclaimed. Zoro smirked at you.

"Everyone but you knew. He's not exactly subtle."

You groaned, shoving your face in your hands. Apparently, you had some things to catch up on.

Sanji

He looked at you, his visible blue eye shining with regret.

"I'm sorry I handled you so rough back there" he muttered, breath whispering against your cheek. You swore you saw tears of regret brimming in his eyes. Your heart skipped a beat.

"Hey hey, it's okay. You saved me from the marines. I probably would've gotten shot and captured if you hadn't done that" you soothed. He scowled at the idea of you getting captured. You smiled at him, hoping the dim light didn't expose your darkened cheeks.

"C'mon. See if you can get this door open. I didn't have any luck" you muttered. You shifted to the side, trying to get him to pass by you, but the space was too small. You ended up chest to chest. Warmth bled through his buttoned shirt, jacket left unbuttoned for once. You cleared your throat, sure you were going to combust from embarrassment. You smelled the cloying smoky sweetness from his preferred cigarettes, the fresh scent of his cologne, and hints of what he cooked for breakfast. You looked to the back of the closet, away from his gaze, willing your heart to stop beating so fast against his obviously chiseled chest.

"S-sorry. Can you get it like this?" you muttered. The vibration of his considering hum echoed through your chest. Were you breathing? Oh god why did he smell so good? He's so warm.

"My fingers may be skilled, but I can't get it. The only way to open the door now would be to break it down from the outside, seeing as there's no room for me to kick it open"

Your face was flaming, and you stopped listening after the first sentence. You'd dreamed about what those fingers could do, and he just unknowingly admitted to it.

"Are you okay? You feel warm" he said, raising the hand opposite the door to your forehead. You squeaked at the touch.

"If you're claustrophobic, I'm sure I can find some way out of here quickly."

"No, that's not it" you admitted quietly.

"No? Look at me" he said. He sounded worried. You held back an embarrassed groan and tilted your head to look at him.

"What's wrong? Did you get hit? Are you in pain? Those damn marines-"

"Sanji. I'm fine" you finally interrupted. You felt the hand he used to feel your forehead nudged your shoulder slightly so you could stand in front of him again. You followed the silent request, and he kept you facing him. You let his gaze roam over your form, resolutely looking away towards the door over your shoulder as if you were studying the mechanism.

"You're not bleeding" he observed. You snorted.

"Yeah, I'm fine, just a little tired" you said with a small smile, finally gaining the confidence to look back at his face. His worry disappeared with a relieved smile.

"Sit on my lap then. There's a bucket I can sit on behind me" he suggested. His cheeks became rosy, but you brushed off the reaction. It would be a cold day in hell before you passed up such an opportunity, so you nodded shyly. He wrapped you in his arms and spun you around, guiding you in what felt like a short dance as he took a seat. You shifted until you were comfortable on his lap. His legs were pure, solid muscle, you noticed quite happily.

"Better? We did run quite far from the marines." His breath tickled your ear, and you nearly choked on your spit at the intimacy of the position.

"Y-y-yeah"

"Your heart is still pounding and your face is red. You sure you're okay?"

This time you let out a groan, and his arms tightened around you.

"I'm fine, Sanji! I just have feelings!" you blurted. You slapped a hand over your mouth immediately.

"Feelings?" he echoed. Oh no why did I say that? He doesn't feel that way about me. Just look how he is with Nami and Robin!

"Romantic feelings? For me?" he asked. You were too focused on your internal panic to register the shocked excitement in his voice. You groaned, hiding your face in your hands as you nodded. Too late to back out now. One of his hands gently removed yours and tilted your chin so you were looking at him.

"Mon amour. I'm yours for as long as you'll have me. How can I say no to perfection, to the one I've loved since I first saw you?"

"...what?" you squeaked. This was insane. He... He liked you... like that? Like you liked him? Loved you? He smiled broadly at you, his cheeks tinging pink.

"I wish you had let me confess in a more romantic setting, but anywhere with you is paradise"

That was all the confirmation you needed. You slowly leaned towards him, your gaze flicking between his lips and his visible eye. He looked surprised, but met you halfway. He let you guide the pace, keeping the kiss chaste and loving. You broke away eventually, needing air. Your eyes slipped back open.

"Sanji. Your nose is bleeding."

"Ahn~~~ I just can't help it! You're so amazing!"

You giggled. This was the Sanji you knew - hearts in his eyes and his fawning words. You hugged him, planting a kiss on his cheek. He swooned.

"So... maybe, do you want to go on a date later?" you asked in his ear. His nose bled more, and you started laughing.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now give me the baby den-den mushi so I can call the Sunny so someone can come get us out of here. I'm getting kind of hungry."

That snapped him back to his senses.

"You're hungry? My love, I will make you only the best food!"

"Thanks babe but we need to get out of here first"

"Of course! Anything for you! Hold onto my neck" he instructed, holding your body bridal style. He stood, and your arms wrapped around his neck. You felt his balance shift, before a vicious kick to the door sent it flying off its hinges and crashing into the far wall of the slim alley.

You looked at the door in shock before looking at him. He shrugged, a blush coloring his cheeks.

"It was a good excuse to spend time with you"

You laughed loudly, hiding your face in his chest.

"Lets go back to the Sunny, lover boy" you teased. He looked like he was desperately concentrating on not getting a nose bleed, and managed to smirk at you instead.

"Of course, my love"

Ace (slightly suggestive, angst if you squint)

"You have got to be fucking kidding me" you hissed, letting your head thud against the door.

"In my defense, he left his plate unsupervised"

"It was a REAR ADMIRAL! You and your stupid shirtless torso got us in trouble AGAIN!"

"Hey! I'm proud to wear the old man's jolly roger!"

"I am too, Ace! But sometimes we need to be subtle around Marines!"

Ace sighed heavily.

"You like that I'm shirtless though" he teased. You stubbornly kept your gaze on the door, fiddling with the broken mechanism as your blush ran wild.

"Shut up and see if you can open the damn door" you muttered. He reached around your waist, but immediately retracted his fingers once he brushed against it.

"Sea prism stone" he hissed. You thudded your forehead harshly against the door. Why the hell is sea prism stone in a storage room door??

"Once we get out of here, you're fucking dead" you hissed.

"I'd prefer if I was just fucking" he joked. You glared at him, reigning in your indecent thoughts. You sighed heavily.

"Yeah, well, me too. Now call for help on the baby den-den mushi. Hopefully someone can find us before you get too hungry again" you ordered. He quickly dug it out and reported the situation, along with a rough set of directions. You turned to face him, studying him. You knew now why he was the second division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates- he quickly could take stock of a situation, plan, and escape or fight. He recognized his surroundings and could communicate them to others, but was also incredibly strong and a great fighter. You didn't realize you were staring until he met your gaze after ending the call.

"What? Like what you see?" he said with a smirk. You shrugged.

"I think there's a lot to you that you don't show people. You're lighthearted and funny, but you have a lot of... hmmm... depth? Yeah. I was completely lost following you around, but you got the general location, and reported all the necessary details, including the sea prism stone. You're kinda impressive"

He blinked at you, a blush tinging his tanned cheeks red as you talked, and a humble smile curving his lips.

"Thanks. I guess" he mumbled. You nodded. He shuffled his feet a little, and jolted when his boot kicked an overturned bucket. He ran a hand through his black hair.

"Mind if I sit down?" he asked. You shook your head, knowing he could fall asleep at any given moment, and you really didn't want him to fall on you. He took a seat on the bucket, but his knees knocked into yours, and you pitched forward with a small yelp. Warm hands caught you easily around your waist.

"Whoops" he said, grinning. Your breath hitched. The two of you were nearly nose to nose... if you just...

"Looks like you'll have to sit in my lap." He maneuvered your body so you were sitting sideways in his lap, his knees spread so you were balanced perfectly.

"T-thanks" you stuttered. He hummed an affirmative.

"Ace?"

He looked at you, a smile playing at his lips.

"I... I understand why you're the second division commander. And... I'm happy you are"

He tilted his head curiously.

"Where's this coming from?"

"I... I dunno. I just feel like you need to hear it sometimes."

You felt him stiffen at your words before he relaxed with a chuckle and held you closer in a hug.

"'s why I like you, ya know"

Your heart thudded, and your breath hitched. For a second, it sounded like he was saying he liked you. Romantically. But you shook your head. The two of you were friends, and that's probably all he would see you as.

"You like a lot of people" you said, shrugging as if your own words didn't make your heart clench with loneliness.

"Sure. But..." he sighed, and you could feel tension seeping into his body again. He felt warmer, as if he was trying not to catch on fire.

"I don't like them the same way I like you..." he muttered quietly. He started nervously babbling as you stared at him, incredulous.

"I know you won't ever see me the same way, but for our friendship, you know... it's only fair that I tell you so I can get over these feelings. But god. Fuck. You're just so... amazing. Strong. You make me laugh, and make me fucking weak. I love you, more than a friend. I'm made of fire but damn if you don't ignite something in me. I love you in a way I've never experienced before and it's so scary because I know there's no hope but-"

You cut him off with a hand tilting his head towards you, and swiftly covering his lips with yours. He tasted like the smell of heat, his lips were chapped, and he didn't kiss you back. But you knew why. You pulled back with a smirk, sliding your hand back to tangle your fingers in his black locks. You couldn't help the giggle at his blank, shocked expression.

"Kiss me back, firefly. I love you too."

This time, at the pull of your hand, he met you halfway. He took control of the kiss, kissing you desperately like he was making up for lost time. His large, warm hand cradled your jaw. You broke the kiss eventually when you started laughing giddily. He started peppering tiny kisses all over your face and down your neck.

"Remember earlier how I said you'd be fucking dead once we got out of here?"

"Mmmhmm"

"Do you remember what you said in reply?"

"...huh? Oh. Yeah"

"Well, once we get out of here, you can show me what you can do, cowboy"

He gazed at you, eyes wide with wonder. Without another word, he picked you up bridal style, and launched a vicious kick at the door. It went flying into the far side of the wall of the alley, and he staggered a little from the sea prism stone, but quickly darted out of the closet. He quickly put you down and then picked you up so you were on his back. He sprinted past part of the crew that was obviously on their way to find you, shouting quickly over his shoulder that you were both fine now.

You could only wave and laugh at their bewildered looks as he carried you away.