Thank you @howdidyouallgetinmyroom for these glorious tags because "nowadays we can't do photos without shaving bits off of people but this painter in 1941 painted ALL of this lady by hand stroke by stroke every glorious bit and i'm so overjoyed" FUCK YES
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SUMMARY: Sanji is disillusioned about your lack of interest in him. Someone like you could pick and choose among princes, kings and emperors. What's a measly cook to you? Nevertheless, his lovesick heart continuously rejoices when you choose him to waste time with.
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Part 2 -> "Maelstrom"
Sanji has never believed in ghouls, witches, faeries and the like. However, when he met you his belief began to shatter:
Like a dark sorceress covering the whole world with a curse, you lured all the influential, important men like fire does moths. At first, Sanji fooled himself that all those generals, merchants and noblemen only wanted something pretty to hang onto their shoulders but reality destroyed his comforting illusion when the said men offered riches most people couldn’t even fathom. If you asked them for an armada to sail to the Grand Line, they’d only ask what type of wood you’d prefer. Despite something akin to world domination lying at your fingertips, you always laughed those offers off, telling your powerful suitors that you would think about their words and get back to them.
Sanji once asked whether you’re truly considering marrying one of the generals or kings. Some more naive part of him hoped you’d say no. Alas, the truth, once again, was his adversary:
“Obviously!” you giggled at his silly question. “But I won’t marry the first one that offers me wealth and whatnot. First, I’d like to see all of my options and the world…” your voice trailed away as you vaguely pointed around the two of you. “Well, it’s a big place. Many more kingdoms to visit.”
But to his own demise, the cook was a fool unlike any other. He had no chance at winning your heart, no matter how much he’d try. Still, his untamable desire egged him on, whispering sweet songs of your grace. Even if he could taste your lips only in his imagination, he could do his best for you to have a reason to keep him around like a dog that begs for scraps at his master’s table.
Sanji knows he’s only hurting himself, only furthering his desperation when he makes you smile or earns a speck of your affection. Every dawn, he promises to free himself from your sorcery but when dusk comes and his left with the Moon, his only confidant, he realizes that he could never possess enough power to cut himself free from you. You’ve pierced his heart right through and if he pulls your knife out of his chest, he’s bound to bleed out and die. It’s better if he lets you have complete control over his mind and soul - it’s the only way he will make it out alive.
He’s left cold and lonely on that night. Soft, silver moonlight washes over him through the small porthole in the wall of his room. The sea is almost black at this hour of the night but it becomes a mystical sapphire when the Moon’s glow washes over the lazy waves making them glisten like pure diamonds.
Diamonds… maybe if he had diamonds, you’d see him as a man and not just a shipmate.
Quiet knocking on his door wakes Sanji up from his thoughts. Before he has a chance to get up and open the door or tell the guest to come in, the mysterious visitor enters out of their own volition.
Your tired face makes Sanji think about painting in museums - the ones all connoisseurs consider “classics” and “timeless”. The silk shirt you’re wearing looks not only awfully expensive but, which is much worse, to be a men’s size. Its hem ends right underneath your buttcheeks, threatening to expose your body should you lift your hands. In the darkness of his cabin, you appear as nothing beyond a phantom, a hallucination born out of desperation. And just like a ghost, you’ve come to haunt and torment him in the sweetest of ways; in a way only you can.
“What’s wrong, love?” he asks in a raspy voice. Sanji is doing a great job at appearing unaffected by your rather scantily clad form.
Carefully, you close the door behind you and walk towards him. Your skin glows when you step into the rays of soft moonlight pouring in through the porthole. Dishevelled hair, half-closed eyes and a slightly puffy face - Sanji has imagined you this way countless times but never actually seen. He can feel his body burning up, telling him to seize the opportunity, to wash you in the most charming and suave words he can think of.
“Nami kicks while sleeping,” you say quietly. “I swear to god my whole side is bruised at this point. Can I sleep with you?”
Sanji has to remind himself to breathe and to do so calmly. He’s cool, completely in control of himself. His mouth feels unbearably dry.
“‘Course you can,” he answers casually. With a swift move of his arm, he lifts the duvet. “Come on in.”
The pure bliss that suddenly appears on your face forces Sanji to take in a sharp, ragged breath. It’s an expression he also imagined one too many times when his desperation poisons his mind - not that he’s willing to admit it even to himself. He knows it’s wrong to even entertain a scenario in which you would grace him with such an enraptured face. Still, his will is not as strong as he often makes it out to be.
“Sanji, you are my salvation,” you tell him while getting under the covers with him.
“I know, love.”
It’s both strange and natural, the way your body fits his. As though the two of you have done it so much the memory of your muscles twists and turns your limbs to rest in the most comfortable and intimate way. The odd familiarity makes Sanji think that maybe in another lifetime this is how he always sleeps. He wishes he could find himself in that reality even for a second. Alas, it’s too far out of his reach.
“Damn, you’re really comfortable,” you mumble against his chest. Your hot breath makes him shiver. “And warm. I don’t think I’ll be going back to my bed.” A small grin of cosiness appears on your face - one that Sanji will never forget.
His broad chest and strong arm normally go unnoticed by you but now they’re like a fortress. And just like high stone walls are an unspoken promise of security and happiness, his firm hold on your body is a silent oath of a good night's sleep.
“Stay as long as you want,” he whispers back to you.
Maybe if you weren’t so exhausted, you’d notice that his words aren’t a statement but a plea. They’re the last thing you remember before drifting off to a restful slumber.
Your breathing slows down and gains a steady, shallow rhythm. Keeping you close to his chest, Sanji allows his hands to gently brush against your arm and back. His movements are feathery, almost fearful. He wouldn’t want you to wake up and change your mind about spending the night beside him - he can indulge in his heart’s desire but he must do so carefully.
“If you only gave me a chance,” he whispers into the night.
Knowing you’re asleep and bound to remain ignorant of his affections, Sanji kisses the top of your head. His lips linger against your hair while he takes in the scent that haunts him day and night. Unknowingly, his grip around your body tightens at that moment as though he has suddenly grown most terrified of having you disappear. Too many nights he’s dreamed of this exact scenario only to wake up to a cold, empty bed.
When the dawn arrives and you leave his arms, this little moment of affection won't mean anything to you. It means nothing now. Sanji knows this very well. He doesn't try to lie to himself that maybe you'll wake up a changed person and finally see him as more than a friendly comrade. Although tonight means nothing to you, it holds an unspeakable weight to Sanji, who will forever gloat about the fact that when you needed help, it was him you turned to. It was his arms that guarded your sleep for a few hours.
Fighting off sleep until he collapses, Sanji revels in the feeling of you against his body and pretends, even if for one night, that you’re his the same way he will always be yours. Watching you sleep cuddled into him, he swears he could die happy now.
Some ideas for projects that Avatar Studios can do to expand the Avatar universe:
1) Earth Avatar series that’s 1980s/1990s-themed (Aang’s world was early Industrial Revolution, Korra was the 1920s).
2) Fire Avatar series that’s cyberpunk/futuristic-themed (if the previous series was set in the 1980s/1990s, the next Avatar would be in the future).
3) Zaheer, R-rated spinoff series. Something along the lines of Netflix’s “The Punisher”.
4) Sokka and Suki spin-off series, but set when they’re in their 40s (so about two decades after the main series ended). For their show, I was thinking a spy/political thriller in which they’re trying to stop a conspiracy to destroy the Southern Water Tribe. Something like “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” or “The Bourne Identity”.
5) The Forgotten Avatar/The Avatar Who Must Not Be Named. Set long before Avatar Yangchen’s time, the series follows an Avatar who abused their powers to the point that they’ve been erased from the history books.
6) The Dark Avatar. Taking place simultaneously as the Earth Avatar series, this series focuses on Vaatu’s return and the start of the Dark Avatar lineage.
7) Series about an Earth Kingdom spy sent to infiltrate the Fire Nation royal court in order to assassinate the Fire Lord. This show is set during the middle of the Hundred Year War (literally, 50 years after it started).
8) The First Avatar. An expansion on Avatar Wan’s life, going beyond what we saw in Korra. Something like how the “Andor” show expanded on “Rogue One”.
9) Series centered around a Fire Nation unit during the Hundred Year War. The point of the show isn’t to justify the Fire Nation’s side, but to humanize the soldiers.
10) June the Bounty Hunter movie in which she accepts a job to capture a high-profile Fire Nation general for the Earth Kingdom. For the feel of the movie, think “Atomic Blonde” or “John Wick”.
11) Young Iroh series that features Lu Ten as the deuteragonist.
12) Toph Bei Fong series about her founding the Metalbending Police Force, as well as how she met Lin and Suyin’s fathers.
13) General Iroh II spin-off series.
14) Agents of Republic City series. Centered on a group of agents trying to prevent the four nations from going to war with each other. Think of this show as the Avatar version of “24” or “Homeland”.
15) Young Gran Gran series, showing her life in the Northern Water Tribe and how she fled to the South. Also features young Master Pakku.
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You gotta create replacement activities man. We can't just phase out all the church attendance and all the usamerican social holidays cold turkey in the middle of a loneliness epidemic bro like yeah fuck church fuck thanksgiving and FUCK the 4th of July but like what's the long-term plan. People need holidays and repetitive social rituals or they go crazy. Like are we inventing new ones or ....?
Actually I'll never forgive Punk Rave and Killstar and fast fashion brands for tricking people into thinking that being goth or punk or emo is expensive. Babygirl the only goth brand names you need to know are Rit, Good Will, Etsy, and Studs and Spikes, we used to shove safety pins through our ears and then they started selling earrings that look like safety pins for 15.99. We used to dye thrifted wedding dresses black and they started selling gothic gowns for 300 bucks. We used to put studs on boots we found in the back of the good will and they started making Demonias. DIY or die wasn't perfect it can be exclusionary to disabled people but whatever the fuck we've got going on right now is so much worse. It's not any more inclusive to the disabled and it is exclusionary to the people who made punk, to the people who made goth, to the people who made emo. If you've got the funds and you don't want to do diy pay someone else to do it for you but please let it be a small artist or a friend not some guy in a suit who's made it his business to gentrify punk. You can turn flats into platforms with flipflops, hotglue and gumption don't let anyone tell you different.
I would like to add, for anyone who does not already know, that using a 2:1 ratio of black-to-dark/navy blue dye will give you a richer/darker black than black dye alone.
Yes, it’s getting more and more difficult to find interesting things at thrift stores, and it’s even worse if you’re plus sized. The other thing goths did Back In The Day was keep an eye on what was in the mainstream stores, then snapped up anything remotely gothy when things went on clearance. And then DIY-ed the hell out of whatever we’d found.
Some possibly helpful DIY links:
Original Dark and Gothic fashion DIY projects and articles.
Gothy DIY Tools – the Essentials! | Gothic Charm School
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TIL there are only around 120 anonymous Michelin restaurant inspectors in the world. They spend 3 out of every 4 weeks on the road, and must vacate a region for 10 years if they think a restaurant suspects their identity.
Better yet imagine a real spy getting in trouble and mistaking a restaurant critic for a fellow agent. But the critic takes their job very seriously and won’t reveal themselves and so gets pulled into some kind of huge dangerous conspiracy whilst continuing to take notes on the quality of every restaurant they almost get shot in.
honestly fucking fascinating that people will pretty universally understand that thin people can be naturally predisposed to thinness regardless of what they eat or their activity level, but that so many of the same people cannot possibly fathom that fat people could have similar dispositions or that there could be any factors more complex than a "lack of self control."
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