#all this time away and i come back and

[shotmrmiller]

ghost getting himself a cute, soft girl he doesn't talk about much but is clearly obsessed with and price just thinks it's nice he's finally settled down, approves of the home he's made for himself, definitely approves of the one he's taken for himself.

soap asks kyle if he's seen you and he says, "yep. lovely bird he's got tucked away in her little dollhouse. makes great food, too." soap swears there's a subtle shift in his tone when he says "lovely", a hint of something deeper that flickers in his eyes for just a moment. soap simply sucks on his teeth, letting it slide. (although he knows that kyle's always been one to appreciate the good things in life.)

interest gnaws at him, a persistent itch he can't scratch. price likes you just fine, as does kyle. well what about him? he decides to bite the bullet and goes to simon with a knot between his brows, the corners of his lips tugged downwards. they've shared clothes, bullets, beds. if the other two got to meet you, why can't he?

"ya can come over for dinner on tonight. she'd 'ave my neck if she didn't formally meet ya anyway."

soap then asks, out of genuine curiosity more than anything else, if simon would have kept you in the dark from him hadn't he brought you up himself.

"ya meet 'er when i want ya to, boy, and not a moment before." the tone he takes is unmistakeable. his words are a command, not a suggestion, and soap instantly knows to not push further.

soap nods. "ah'll be there."

"course ya will. she'd be terribly disappointed otherwise."

yeah, he'd hate to have that.

soap sits in the living room, the soft glow of the lamp casting a warm light over the cozy place. with a full stomach and an unfastened belt, nursing a glass of kentucky. he can't remember the last time he ate that well or that much.

maybe it's the alcohol that loosens his tongue, or the fact that he wishes he also had a sweet little thing to keep at his side just like simon's doing with you now, but the thoughts he's been mulling over all evening since he first saw you tumble out of his mouth.

"while ah can attest to yer taste in sweethearts, can't say much about your alcohol. bourbon, LT?" he says, chest warm.

simon's arm tightens around your hips, fingers splayed possessively over your thigh. he shrugs, completely unbothered by the backhanded compliment. "can't be perfect in everythin', can we, sergeant?"

soap's cheeks burn furiously hot when you come to his defense with a smack of your palm onto simon's chest. "be nice to johnny. he's got a face that make up for some of his other flaws."

the teasing lilt in your voice unashamedly gets his southern blood pumping. he can't help it if certain things stir when someone as pretty as you look at him like that. soap swirls the amber liquid gently in the glass while keeping his limpid eyes on you, not even trying to hide the fact that his gaze hasn't wavered since your cheeky little comment.

you then whisper something in simon's ear, your cupped hand not even half the size of his head and soap has to rearrange himself from the outside when your teeth catch your bottom lip. simon looks up at you then, eyes heavy and half lidded, and a smirk plays at the corners of his mouth.

"'m not sure, love. you'll just 'ave to ask 'im yourself. go on."

you open that sweet mouth of yours, but simon cuts you off with a decisive wave of his hand. "no. you know how to ask for things."

your reaction to that is visceral, and you're on your knees faster than his alcohol-muddled brain can comprehend. don't look down 'er shirt, don't look down 'er shirt, don't-

"johnny, will you touch my pussy?"

he splutters at your question, completely taken aback, but it seems you're not done just yet.

"hands to yourself, sergeant. tha' not all."

you pout at simon, one that earns you a look that promises consequence, but do as he says.

"will you touch my pussy, johnny? pretty please?"

[undertheredhood]

the rest of the justice league: hey man, we get that he’s your son and all, but shouldn’t you do something about him?

bruce ‘that’s my precious baby boy’ wayne: i’m sorry, did you have to hold your son as he was dying in your arms? did you almost k*ll yourself trying to follow him to the afterlife? i don’t think so.

[starry-bi-sky]

on a completely separate note; shizun luo binghe with a disciple shen yuan who fell into the abyss??? *thinks about LBH canonically stealing SQQ's corpse for 5 years* he'd hallucinate i think. like, like visual and audial hallucinations.

Keeps thinking he's seeing SQQ in the corner of his eyes, or wandering between the trees, amongst a group of disciples. Thinks he hears him calling for him, but its just the wind or another disciple.

Gets Xiu Ya reforged but patently fucking refuses to make a sword mound. Because his disciple Is Not Dead :))) There was No Body. He's Not Dead. And If You keep Insisting That He Is, He's Gonna Skewer You :). He's holding onto Xiu Ya so he can return his most favored disciple's sword when he returns. It's on his hip right next to Zheng Yang where it's supposed to be.

Also this motherfucker?? does not sleep btw. He has the image of SQQ, wide eyed and hysterical and standing at the mouth of the abyss burned into his fucking eyelids. Can't use the dreamscape to escape it either because he keeps trying to save him and either he does and it's an incredibly cruel trick to wake up to, or he doesn't and he gets his heart broken in several different pieces again.

There is no convincing this man that Shen Qingqiu is dead. Absolutely nothing at all. He is buried so deep in denial that moles would be jealous of how deep he is. He keeps making tea for two in the bamboo house only to remember that it's just him. SQQ's fans are hiding everywhere, little reminders of his presence. He goes to wake up SQQ on the mornings he sleeps in-- only to find the room empty.

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Burning Rotten Bridges

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[humming-fly]

I only just now realized what a shame it is we never got to see Al and Greedling really interacting

[somerandomcockroach]

And coloring based on @thegunnsara 's sketch

[hedgehog-moss]

Look, friends.

Do you think this is a post about my adorable baby succulents? No. Look harder.

It's about the GIANT HOLE IN MY FENCE that I had to patch up with cardboard.

I can't blame Pampérigouste for this one; the brutish nature of the damage is not consistent with her usual modus operandi. Pampe outsmarts locks like Arsène Lupin; she doesn't charge at fences like a bull who saw a red cloth. This is Pampe Pondering A Fence Problem:

No, the damage to my fence looked a lot more mindless this time. Boorish. Boar-ish. I'm blaming a boar. A deer would have destroyed the whole thing rather than just the lower half. Note that there is not a single tuft of llama wool on the damaged wire mesh.

(Note no.2: the boar's smile was originally meant to be a tusk but it really just looks like a sardonic smile)

I brought some chicken wire to patch up the hole—but there wasn't enough of it. Then it started raining and I felt persecuted and decided to just cover the hole with cardboard and go have my morning coffee and get back to this later.

This is not an Innocent Pampe post; there is no such thing. My temporary cardboard solution lasted 8 to 10 minutes. I'm not sure exactly when she got out, but by the time I went back outside to repair the fence there was a Pampe-shaped hole in the cardboard.

(Not really; she just kind of lifted or ate a corner then wormed her way through the very small opening. I think.) (See, this is how you recognise a Pampe escape: you're not entirely clear on what went down, you just know there was a llama inside and now there is a llama outside.)

It was still raining and I didn't feel like going after her, plus it felt pointless to bring her back in her pasture before the fence was repaired, so I went in the barn to look for my tools and rummage through leftover pieces of previously-destroyed fences, hoping to find something the right size.

Then I heard Pampelune's hyena shriek, aka the llama alarm call. It was followed by:

horrified chicken screams and frantic feather noises; the soundtrack of a violent fox attack

infuriated barking from Pandolf

very loud panicked braying from Pirlouit

basically, chaos.

I ran outside just in time to see Pampe emerging from the woods at a full gallop, pursued by a bear. I didn't immediately identify the animal that was chasing her as the giant dog that he was, because he was running with a weird gait, with his legs going everywhere like he was frolicking at top speed (I now know that this dog is a puppy that has learnt to run just a few months ago, but that didn't occur to me at the time because this puppy is the size of a calf.)

Pampe was running towards the cardboard through which she had escaped and she managed to squeeze through her small corner hole again (I assume—there were trees blocking my line of sight and I only saw her again once she was in the pasture, running for her life along with the other 2 llamas + donkey.) Meanwhile, the dog didn't see the corner hole and tried to power through the cardboard much like a boar, or was carried away by his momentum and didn't brake in time; I don't know. In any case, when I reached him, he was stuck.

My large piece of cardboard was tied to the fence posts and still holding strong, but the middle was a bit soggy with rain and not too solid, so the dog's head went right through it. The rest of his body didn't.

He could have probably finished breaking the cardboard quite easily, but for some reason he instantly gave up. On life. By the time I got there the dog was half-in and half-out of the pasture and he looked defeated. Which made my piece of cardboard look like a mediaeval beheading apparatus with just a hole for the head.

I went to lock an angry Pandolf in the barn and checked on the chickens along the way (ruffled & offended but fine); I was hoping the dog would figure out how to extricate his head from the cardboard in the meantime. He did not. I tried to call him in a friendly tone (from behind) to encourage him to free his head by stepping back, but the concept of taking a couple of steps backwards in order to extract his head from the hole might as well have been advanced engineering. He clearly had no idea where his head was, where his body was, how to make the two a coherent whole again, and he started whining pitifully.

I untied the rope I had used to attach the cardboard to the fence posts, then wriggled the piece of cardboard a bit to try and free the dog's head. The dog was alarmed by the wriggling and took several steps back—but I didn't manage to hold on to the cardboard so it just moved with the dog. He clumsily ran away, taking the cardboard with him, wearing it around his neck like the world's largest cone of shame.

He immediately got stuck between two trees.

I was starting to find the situation hilarious, but the poor dog did not—he lay down and started making sad broken noises like a malfunctioning dog-robot. He didn't look very threatening but he was still a very big (and stressed) dog so I felt a bit wary of touching his head to help him, and decided to run home to get a box cutter. I figured I could easily rid him of most of the cardboard and leave him with just a soggy cardboard collar that would soon fall apart. I heard my landline phone ringing from afar and ran faster, and it was one of my nearest neighbours, the retired lady who lives on the plateau.

"I've been trying to reach you!! I saw your llama in my garden earlier, I was going to give her a little treat—" (she loves Pampe, for some reason) "—but then my dog saw her too."

I know this woman's dog—he's a tiny thing with fragile nerves who thinks the whole world is out to get him, so I asked anxiously, "Did Pampe scare your dog?" and she said "Oh no! Domino is here with me; but I have a new dog. His name is Texas."

I thought of the gigantic puppy currently sobbing in my woods, held prisoner by two trees, a self-inflicted cone of shame and his total lack of reasoning skills.

"Yes", I said. "I've met Texas."

The old lady asked worriedly if he'd scared Pampe ("Il est un peu zinzin" she said—he's a bit crazy. "I wanted to call him Rex, but then I met him and thought—Texas!!") I told her I was pleased with her dog for scaring Pampe, because she needs to learn that her pasture is her only hope for safety in this cold uncaring world and as soon as she steps out of it she returns to her lowly status as a prey animal. Then I ended the phone call because I was worried both about Texas and about the large hole in my fence. Thankfully all my animals were still terrified and hiding far, far away from Texas.

Texas actually managed to free himself before I attempted to cut the cardboard, but he still thought of me as his saviour and was very happy to follow me through the woods back to his owner's place. Before we left I propped up the cardboard against the damaged fence, and despite the hole in the middle no llamas escaped in my absence; I think the whole area still smelled like Texas and fear.

I'll admit I was initially tempted to leave Texas with his head stuck in the cardboard in a more permanent capacity in order to patch the hole in my fence with this amazing anti-Pampe Cerberus. Like this

(I know this artistic rendering makes my llamas look like frightened carrots and my donkey like a bunny but I will not be taking constructive criticism at this time)

[tee-dohrnii]

This line is just so silly

---

Silly Gale doodle to make me feel better about my art :")

[ef-1]

to the holes in my butterfly wings

[saetoshis]

꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹ WHY SO STUBBORN? | shinazugawa sanemi

⋆୨୧˚ SUMMARY: being stubborn against sanemi doesn't always work!

⋆୨୧˚ MATURE CONTENT WARNINGS:

fem!reader, dom!sanemi, teasing, light degradation, bit of cunnilingus, pet name [baby - once], nipple play, creampie

he knows what he’s doing is working, and that’s what bothers you the most about it.

his nose nestles against your panties eagerly, then hesitantly, all for the satisfaction of your thighs squirming around his head in jagged rhythms. he finds every twitch and every shiver of your cadence to be beyond exciting, especially when he knows you're trying to resist it.

"don't act like you don't like this," sanemi murmurs with his face pressed against your now-wet panties. his voice carries a gruffness and ambition underneath its tone, while yours is shackled and constricted.

"you- hah, can't act like you can just snap your fingers whenever you want," you murmur between ragged breaths, voice strained from how hard you're trying not to show a weak spot - too much power would go to his egotistic head. "i'm not a toy..."

"no, you're not," sanemi grunts out the words between fervent licks and drags of his nose along your clit. he readjusts to kneel, gripping your hips in each hand and pulling your body down to meet flush with his. his broad torso curls over you, calloused hands dragging up towards your shoulders as he whispers, "unless you wanted to be treated like one."

"cut it out," you mumble weakly between panted heaves, and he knows you're just one step closer to snapping. your thighs shudder in place, fingers quivering against the sheets as he presses slow, dreadfully warm kisses along your neckline. your voice comes out almost as a whisper, "you know what you're doing..."

"that's right," sanemi leers with a sly smile, letting his tongue drag lines and circles along your skin. you can feel the tiniest, slowest ruts of his pants against you and it feels like you're about to burst completely. each tedious second passes and knocks at your strength like cracks in a stone wall. his voice drops low right against your ear, "tryin' so hard to keep it up, aren't you? what, you don't wanna feel good? c'mon, just give up... lemme help you, yeah?"

you shake your head, unable to speak, tension building up in your bloodstream like a balloon ready to pop.

"tch, gonna be stubborn, huh?" sanemi gives you an unruly, almost irritated expression. with his demeanor now, you can tell - he's got a lot of tension to release with you. he slinks your shirt up a bit, fingertips dragging against your stomach and up to your chest. he lets out a smug sneer as his thumbs catch your nipples, flicking and circling them enough to where you're shuddering and holding in gasps. "c'mon... you know you want it."

sanemi keeps one thumb attending to your nipple, the other adjusting his clothed cock to lay heavy against your clit as he slowly ruts back and forth. it's unbearable - your chest rises and falls in jagged manners, hips rocking instinctively with sanemi's. "c-can't..."

"can't what, huh? can't... take it anymore?" sanemi jeers, curling down over you to press dizzying kisses against your lips. his movements never stop, all with the intention to send you reeling over the edge. "you don't even have to say it, m'kay? just gimme a nod..."

you hesitate, eyes shut tightly before your head bobs in a desperate nod - it feels like you can finally breathe as you release all the tension in your body and refuse to fight the sensations.

“so good, aren’t you?” sanemi murmurs in a low rasp as he pulls and pushes away all of the fabrics separating his cock from your bare hips. with a fist around his shaft, he runs along the slick mess coating your folds with a sneer, “is this what you wanted? yeah, i know it is.”

only a whine falls from your lips at the moment he presses his heavy cock up into the hilt of your cunt, ragged breaths exchanged between the two of you in place of words. quiet, muttered ‘fuck’s leave your mouth as you let the jolting feeling of him sunken inside of you settle on your nerves.

“wanted me that bad, huh?” sanemi leers, breaths raspy and hot against your cheek as he lets his hips move in rhythmic, slow drags. he lets out little grunts each time he pushes, finding each enclosing tense of your cunt around him absolutely divine. “fuck, that’s it… just like that, yeah?”

you nod fervently, unable to make a coherent statement with the way your brain is boggling inside your head. each forward rut of his hips gets a bit faster, a bit rougher, a bit needier - all until he’s gripping your waist to hold you stable as he fucks into you with wet smacks. all you can mutter is a breathy, “f-fuck, fuck, fuck…”

“ohh, i know…” sanemi’s voice comes out in a rough chuckle, his eyes peering over your body and how it responds so enticingly to him. your thighs shudder, fingers quiver, eyebrows furrow with each jolting grind. his abs shudder and flex intensely with each heavy, wet rut and he feels like he’s about to explode. “i got you, lemme see that clit…”

sanemi’s tongue sticks out ever so slightly as he focuses his thumb on your swollen nerves, letting it match in time with his rough movements. each circle of his digit makes you shudder, thighs squeezing around his hips desperately. “g-god… gonna make me cu-“

a voice cracking whine leaves your lips as your head lolls back, eyes following suit as you shudder and pant shallowly. sanemi is enticed, watching every movement and noise you make with lusting eyes and an unforgiving throb in his cock. “that’s it, give it to me. cum, cum, cum…”

sanemi’s jeers egg you on until your head spins and your whole frame jolts and shudders with ecstasy around his cock. the lewd sounds of his ruts get wetter, heavier, faster. sanemi’s abs glisten with flecks of your mess, and he groans between heavy pants at the sight of it. “so nasty, aren’t you? yeah? you liked that, i know…”

you mumble incoherently, feeling twitches in your thighs as he grips them tight and fucks into you like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. his grunts get raspy and hitched in his chest, his muscles starting to jolt in desperation. sanemi’s hair falls messily as he leans over and leverages even more strength to fuck you with. “god, you’re so tight- fuck, baby, i’m gonna cum so hard- hah…”

you mutter slews of ‘yes, yes, yes’ as you shudder and furrow your eyebrows, bodies radiating heat with each panted exhale. you can practically feel the twinge in his cock with each desperate slap of his hips against yours, and with a few rough grunts and hitched moans, he bottoms out and cusses under his breath. heat spreads throughout you as you feel ropes of white spilling between your walls, and you heave out with a dizzied sigh, “so good…”

“yeah it was,” sanemi leers between slowing exhales, curling over you to cradle your face and press juxtaposingly gentle kisses along your lips. you can hear each other’s racing heartbeats with each connection of your mouths, and it feels like heaven. sanemi lets out a little soft chuckle as he pulls away to admire the flushed expression on your face, “see? not so bad to give in, huh? stubbornness would’ve gotten you nowhere.”

“yeah, yeah,” you laugh out softly, refusing to indulge his ego too much. “whatever you say.”

SAETOSHIS 2024. please do not copy/repost.

[deoidesign]

Wearing your boyfriend's jacket

[shotmrmiller]

pretend boyfriend but it's in a time where roads are nothing more than muddy tracks, making travel slow and cumbersome. the town's buildings are a mix of weathered wood and crumbling brick, faded paint peeling off their facades. wanted posters, yellow and tattered, are plastered on every available surface, faces of outlaws and fugitives who roam the countryside depicted in greyish ink.

the townsfolk go about their lives with a wary eye, and you go about yours with a sharp one, in search of opportunity: a cowboy too drunk off his wits to know his right from his left. the humble borough of blackthorn doesn't need any more working girls, no more ladies with hair down to their corseted waists beautifying the arms of both bounty hunters and farm hands alike.

that's fine, you reckon. you've always had a knack for survival. your deft fingers have made a living out of slipping into pockets and relieving men of their hard earned coin pouches when they lose themselves in drink and laughter. its not an easier life than that of the ladies in the saloon but it's yours, and you've learned to navigate it with equal cunning and charm.

but as people say, anything that can go wrong, will and tonight nothing seems to go right for you. just as you'd been slipping the stolen bills from your latest mark in between the swell of your breasts, he stirs from his drunken sleep, bedsheet tangled in his spurs as he struggles to rise onto unsteady feet. his movements are sluggish, muddy brown eyes blinking against the dim light of the quaint room.

you don't wait for him to ask any inane questions, you know when you've been caught with your hand in the cookie jar. you run out the door on bare feet, fisting the rough fabric of your dress to lift it above your ankles as you barrel down the stairs.

your shoulders ache from bumping into patrons as you try to quickly weave your way toward the door, your breath coming in ragged, panicked gasps. the saloon is a blur or faces and noise, the jaunty tune coming from the piano as fast paced as the galloping of your heart.

just as you reach the swinging doors, you glance outside through the dusty window panes and see someone right across the street in the patio of the drugstore.

the star on his chest gleaming even in the flickering light of the shop is distinctive. your heart sinks like a stone dropped into a well, the weight of the situation leaden over your puffed shoulders.

but you haven't made it this far while skirting around law and order without a sharp mind. your thoughts swirl in your mind as you run through options. a horse loosely tied to the hitching post out front, sleeping roll behind the saddle. you could take it but risk getting roped off by someone. slipping out the windows would draw too much attention. using the back door near the kitchen would have the owner on your arse.

shit. shit-

then you spot him. sitting alone at a table is a hulking, beast of a man. (his broad shoulders and burly frame makes him resemble more mountain than man tbh.) a small shot glass rests on the scratched surface before him, the only delicate item in his vicinity. the wide-brimmed hat he wears casts a shadow over his face but the glint in his eyes is unmistakable. maybe that's why even the other patrons have given him a wide berth. (the knotted scar that runs from the corner of his cheek pulling his lips into a permanent, twisted sneer makes the hair on the nape of your neck stand on end.)

desperation fuels your next move.

your hand trembles when you place it on the the exposed skin of his forearm that's covered in a fine layer of grime, as does your voice when you speak.

"hey-" you don't get to finish your sentence, feeling the words crumble into ash on your tongue when you realize you're out of time. the drunken idiot from upstairs is storming straight towards you, his nostrils flared, white etched on his knuckles. panic surges through you and so you move.

coming to stand behind the seated stranger, your arms cradle his large head, clammy palms flat on the sweat stained fabric of his union shirt. his body tenses under your touch, muscles cooling like a spring, but you muster all the bravado you can.

"if ya got a problem with me," your voice is steady despite the fear that's settled at the base of your spine, "take it up with my husband."

the drunk comes to an abrupt halt, his anger momentarily replaced by confusion, uncertainty, as he glances between you and the human(?) shield you're clinging to.

the room has fallen silent, all eyes on the unfolding drama. they watch with bated breaths, even the bartender had paused mid-polish, his hand frozen on the glass.

the man wavers, his resolve crumbling like freshly tilled dirt before you. but the final nail in the coffin is when your 'husband' grabs onto your arm and leads you to sit onto his lap, both your legs fitting on top of his one, feeling the tarnished buckle of his leather belt even through the couple of layers of your dress on your arsecheek, his arm cinching tightly around your waist.

his skin feels rough, scarred, yet warm, beneath your hand. (embarrassing that this surprises you.)

you can feel his voice vibrate from his chest and sink into your bones when he aids you in this mess you've created. "ya 'eard m'wife. piss off 'fore i make you."

his mouth twists into an ugly line but concedes defeat, telling your 'husband' to "keep his wh-wife on a tighter leash unless she's keen on ending up on a missing poster alongside the wanted ones."

when you turn in his lap to look outside the window, watching the drunk unsteadily get on his horse and leave, you give the man you're on a muted thanks and move to get up only-

the arm around your waist feels more like an iron band. you're can't get up. you can't leave. your feet don't even touch the wooden floorboards of the saloon. you turn your wide eyes toward him, lips parted in surprise.

he doesn't seem as surprised as you.

"wha'? thought you could jus' up and go 'bout your way?"

you open your mouth wider, to scream maybe, you aren't sure but he cuts you off with a sharp suck of his teeth.

"make trouble and there will be trouble. i'll drag your pretty arse to the sheriffs office by the hair."

the realization of what he is keeps you utterly frozen in place, any fight you'd had bleeding out of you.

a bloody bounty hunter. no wonder everyone had kept their distance.

"i'm gonna be finishin' this bottle and you'll be a good wife and draw me a bath in our hotel room."

(he plucks the dirty money from where you'd kept it and tosses it on the bar top, carrying you straight to where he'd hitched his horse and plops you in front, your back to his barrel of a chest. "youll bathe with me, gotta have you clean for our consummation.")

[mulderscully]

alex leaving / alex coming back ♡

[equill]

Reuniting with a distorted past.

Extra:(New personality tested gone wrong)

wanted to play with rin living in the aftermath aus aswell and had these drawings laying around to share so yay

Panel 1: Was buried alive.

Comic 1: Who are you supposed to be?

new friends

Comic 2: Misguided protection.

obito still sensing the warning signs of rin losing her temper. anyways they proceeded to be dragged into the ocean by rin like some sea monster

Comic 3: Finding out (Now what will you do?)

obito is harshly brought back from his delusions because now its not just kushina but rin too who he needs to ripped out the tail beast from

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

Daddy, don't go.

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[sanjiaftersex]

Favourite pre-timeskip Sanji moments

These are a few of my favourite pre ts sanji moments

(1) Baratie arc when sanji served fresh food for don krieg despite everyone telling him that krieg was notorious for betraying people. Sanji still served the food because of his value of "feeding the hungry no matter what"

(2) Sweet sanji preparing bentos for Luffy vivi and a special drink for Vivi's duck karoo so they can go explore the little garden island. Also packing and tying the lunches for the kids (luffy and karoo) by himself

(3) water 7 Sanji following his principle of "never waste food" while fighting CP7's ramen guy wanze (who had a full ramen armour and sanji cut his armour up and served the ramens all in different plates around the kitchen)

(4) thriller bark Sanji holding an unconscious nami up so she won't get injured while he takes all the hits from Absalom He's not just a simp, he genuinely cares for nami

(5) water 7 Sanji smoking a cigarette while spying and finding out sensitive government information

(6) Post enies lobby filler sanji crying throwing up stressing over finding out the right spices of a fried rice. He is a true chef at heart and has so much love for his craft

(7) post skypiea filler G-8 arc sanji when someone says he is better than all of the navy chefs and sanji cutely offers to give his recipes to them. He is so cute kind and humble

(8) sabaody sanji kicking the Celestial dragon knowing what'll happen and not giving a fuck anyway

(9) skypiea sanji being all big smiles and happy while showing conis the bento he has arranged for her and telling them how arranging food is an art (look at the little winged angel he put there as a representation for conis who has wings)

(10) Sanji leaving a message for nami in water 7, even in the dire situation they were in (usopp left, robin was abducted, they were all accused of murder) sanji being his usual cute loser self