#opla future spoilers

[catherine-sketches]

The great thing about Taz and Iñaki’s friendship is that, besides the Sanji x Luffy realness, the Whole Cake Island Arc is going to hurt like a motherfucker

[hylianane]

And when OPLA calls back to Zeff telling the crew to read stories to Zoro so he can hear their voices and recover faster, by having Sanji sit by his bedside on Thriller Bark and read him a book about the All Blue. What will you do then?

[onlytibki]

yelling about OPLA into the void

Zoro was in Goa Kingdom.

ABSOLUTE PEAK SHIT: Zoro's hightailing it out of Goa, getting lost in the forests surrounding the city, and he and Luffy end up nearly bumping into each other every step of the way.

But every time, just before the interaction, something happens to send one or the other in a different direction--Looney Tunes shit like Luffy falling into one of his/his brothers' old pit traps.

Zoro saying "okay so it's north from this waterfall" and consulting his compass and immediately heading up the mountain (which is Absolutely Not North)

Luffy sees some weird stranger in the distance and is about to go say hi when a boar takes offence at his presence and Luffy forgets everything else in the name of lunch.

Zoro sees some weird stranger in the distance and decides to go and... well, make sure THEY know the way to Goa, HE'S not lost, after all. But some of the trees moved, I guess? He coulda sworn the guy was like fifteen feet away but he just went around a tree (pulled a full u-turn, in reality) and lost him. Oh well.

[renareadsonepiece]

They really stayed true to the sanji-Zeff backstory

my heart breaks once again for them

[revasserium]

hiii i'm a new follower and i love your writing so much

ik u said no requests in ur bio but i just finished reading ur sanji fic.. so even if ur still not taking requests i'd just like to throw in an idea that u may or may not feel like using in the future, up to you (i'm requesting this with opla sanji in mind but if u wanna use it for zoro that's cool too)

k so imagine reader being invited to a friend's wedding, & being excited to go until they find out their ex is coming too (with their partner of some amt of yrs). so now reader is pressured to bring someone w/ them & ends up asking their best friend sanji bc they don't want others thinking they're still hung up on the past.

wedding dress

opla!sanji; 6,544 words, pining with a happy ending, fluff and a tad of angst, flirting, lovesick!sanji, whipped!!!!sanji, no "y/n", zeff is a whole mood, confessions, sanji-appropriate nickname usage, modern!au?

summary: you invite sanji to be your plus 1 at a wedding

a/n: im so sorry this took so long. but. better late than? never? also, there is a tiny bit of rehashing for ep 6 of the live action for sanji and zeff's relationship so... spoilers?

It’s a chilly, overcast kind of day when the call comes in. And in retrospect, Sanji thinks he should’ve known better when he’d seen your name on the caller ID. He’d hesitated, because by god if it wasn’t his New Year's Resolution to get the hell over you this year, but it’s almost December again and he still can’t help the way his heart races at the sound of your voice.

“Hey sweetheart — long time no talk!” he answers after a brief moment of contemplating his entire life, dusting his flour-covered hands on his apron.

“Hey! Sorry for calling so… out of the blue…” your voice is still as sweet as ever, and the way his stomach twists at the tinkle of your nervous laughter makes him want to kick himself. Still, he forces himself to stay calm, clearing his throat as he checks the oven — it’s almost done pre-heating.

“Now you know what I said about actin’ a stranger — just because you moved halfway across the entire world doesn’t mean we ain’t best friends anymore, right?”

It’s what you’d said when he’d been standing at the airport, three seconds from dropping to his knees and begging you not to go. But he hadn’t, because he knew how hard you’d worked for this — for this opportunity abroad, to study art in the birthplace of the Renaissance itself, in the heart of Italy.

“And… you might be able to come visit me, right?” you’d said, rocking on the balls of your feet, your eyes full of what Sanji could only call false hope — which is always, always the worst and most painful kind.

Sanji had swallowed and nodded and said something or other about Europe and fine dining, but there’s a terrible, prickling heat eating up the back of his neck and a voice that’s screaming at him to pull you to him and kiss you. He doesn’t. And he regrets it to this day.

“Ah — right… I’m actually calling because… I’ll be in the area in about a week and…”

Your voice pulls him out of his reverie and he clears his throat, hitches a smile to his face that he knows you can’t see but he’s sure you can hear.

“Oh! That’s great, darling! You’ve gotta come for a drink, I’ll whip up all your favorites — we can make a night —”

“It’s actually for a wedding.”

There are a few moments in everyone’s lives when they learn the true meaning of a thing for the very first time — elation, pride, stomach-twisting guilt, and… fear. True fear, the kind of fear that shakes the muscle from your bones and sends them tingling, threatens to overwhelm you with numbness. Fear, that pushes adrenaline through you like a drug, forces the world into a terrifying, all-consuming focus.

Sanji feels the fear coursing through him, wild and contentious at your words.

A wedding.

Your wedding? Perhaps?

He can’t bear to think of it; he’s so terrified he can barely breathe.

Then comes the moment after, the wave of everything else that the fear had washed away — confusion, anger, guilt (always guilt, for some reason), because isn’t he supposed to be happy for you? For you, the person he loves most in this entire world, to find love, to know happiness. He should. He should.

“Oh.”

Sanji sags back against the hard, metal counter. Almost mindlessly, he reaches into his pockets with shaking hands, digging around for a smoke.

Your breath is soft in his ear, too far across the phone line and a thousand miles of ocean.

“I originally wasn’t even planning on going — she’s not a very close friend — we had like one class together but —”

And within the span of a minute, Sanji also learns relief. The kind that melts the world around you into sizzling butter and champagne bubbles. The kind that makes you want to lie down on the ground and scream.

“— it was so close to your restaurant so I said yes but I didn’t know he was gonna be there and —”

You’re still talking, rambling like you do. And it takes nearly everything inside Sanji to pull himself back to the conversation.

“Sorry, love, who did you say was gonna be there?”

“My ex — you know the one —”

Sanji grimaces, flicking on his lighter with still-shaking fingers.

“Mm, yeah I do. The tall, dark-haired bastard who —”

“Yeah well — he’s gonna be there too and I just —” he hears you swallow hard and take a long, steadying breath. An unnameable something is calcifying in the depths of his stomach as he waits for you to collect yourself.

Curiosity? Why had you called like this, so suddenly, about a wedding where your ex was going to be? Concern? Were you thinking of going back to him?

But slowly, as you stutter through your next few words, the unnameable thing obtains a name — dread.

“— I just don’t think I could do it myself, y’know? And — and you were the one who got me out of it wh-when I decided to break it off with him so…”

Sanji takes a long drag of his cigarette and casts his eyes up at the high, white-slabbed ceiling of the kitchen, scored with long strips of bright, fluorescent lighting that floods the entire room in a direct, unforgiving glow.

He closes his eyes and counts to three.

“Course I’ll come with you, darlin’. It —” he wets his lips, taps off a bit of ash from his cigarette, and sucks in through his nose, clearing his throat of the words still lodged there, “— it’d be my honor.”

Relief — he hears it in your voice, and by gods he can almost see it — the way your whole face would light up, washed as if by the setting sun, your eyes wide and dark, your cheeks flushing his favorite fucking shade of pink and —

“Thank you, thank you, thank you! I really owe you for this one —”

Sanji makes a valiant effort at a nonchalant chuckle; it comes out sounding like a dog with a bit of bone stuck in its throat instead.

“Nonsense — what are best friends for, anyway?”

There’s a tiny pause where Sanji can feel the words best friend scraping along the insides of his mouth, barbed and harsh, leaving his tongue feeling raw and metallic.

“You really are the best friend anyone could ask for,” your voice is soft and honest and Sanji wants nothing more than to chuck his phone into the industrial blender.

You tell him that you’ll send him the details, that you can’t wait to see him soon, that you’ve got a world and a half of catching up to do, that you’ll buy him so, so many drinks, and that you’ll come bearing presents. He laughs at the right times, makes soft noises of consent and agreement, and when finally, finally you tell him goodbye, he clicks off the phone and takes another long drag of his smoke.

And then, he whips his hand back and throws the cigarette butt into the large sink, where it tinks against the metal and sizzles sadly in the murky dishwater.

“Real sucker for punishment, aren’tcha, lil’ eggplant?”

Sanji groans, turning around to find Zeff with his arms folded, the hip to his bad leg propped against a counter.

“Will you fuck kindly off — can’t you see I’m going through a thing here?”

Zeff snorts, clunking unevenly towards him.

“You been going through that thing for the last year and a half since you chickened outta askin’ her to stay so —”

“I didn’t chicken out — I — it was her dream to go to Florence and study —”

“And what was your dream then, ey?”

Sanji bangs his palm against the counter and sighs, “It’s not like I could leave you here with —”

“With what? A thriving restaurant business that I started? A guest list out the door and round the corner —”

“I — I helped!”

Zeff rolls his eyes, “Ah sure ya did, but I never asked you to, did I?”

Sanji huffs, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth to stop the torrent of horrible, sad, acrid things he could say and could never mean, so he swallows them back down. When he looks up next, Zeff is still standing there, but there’s a softness around his eyes.

He opens his mouth a few times, but eventually, all he says is, “The oven’s over heatin’.”

Sanji swears and jumps up to tug open the oven door. A wave of hot air whooshes out and nearly catches him in the face. Behind him, he can hear Zeff’s dark, gravelly chuckle, and the dull clunk of his wooden leg.

“You burn the kitchen down, you pay for it.”

And then he’s gone again, leaving the door swinging behind him, and Sanji very much alone with the too-hot oven and a counter full of things he can’t really remember the recipes for anymore.

Nearly a week later, Sanji finds himself standing at the airport, rocking on the balls of his feet, nearly in the exact same place as he’d been a year and a half prior. Except this time, you’re not walking away from him. You’re walking back towards him. He wonders if there’s a name for deja-vu in reverse and comes to the realization that that’s just called… a memory.

And memory seems to work in strange ways now, images superimposing themselves on top of one another — the flicker of a film lens, the bat of an eyelash, the shadow of a smile crimping the corner of your lips. All of this, he sees in the here and now, but he sees it in the air around you too, shimmering and mirage-like — all his memories and dreams of you layered over the shape of you. Your memory like a ghost of itself, trailing behind you as you walk towards him, a shy smile on your face, your cheeks flushed from travel and the cold and —

He doesn’t let himself hope. Not this time.

“Hey!” your voice is just as bell-like as he remembers it, pitched a little higher than it usually is, probably out of nervousness. But it still feels like a kick to the guts. Sanji forces himself to smile.

“Hi, love,” he says, leaning down as you reach him, but the motion aborts halfway because — is it still appropriate to hug you like he’d always done? To press his lips to your cheek or your hairline and revel in the bright citrus of your shampoo, to soak in the butter and cream of your skin like he used to?

There’s an awkward half-second pause before you’re standing up on tip-toe and Sanji’s heart nearly drops out of his ass as you lean in. But then — your lips skim by his cheek and your arms are around him, and stupid, stupid, stupid heart — thundering in his chest like horses or hooves or fists or thumping rabbit’s feet — leaping into his throat and pattering against the base of his tongue as he wraps his arms around you and holds you close. But it’s not close enough. It’s never close enough.

He breathes and distantly, a part of him notes that you still use the same shampoo.

“Hi…” your voice is warm by his ear, a bit muffled, but he can’t help the way it makes him shiver, “It’s… so good to see you.”

He nods, not trusting his own voice to do the normal thing and, oh, you know — work.

“I’ve — I’ve missed you.”

He makes a noise somewhere between a laugh and a cough as he nods again. He feels your arms slackening around him and a fierce, terrifying thing is flapping its wings in his stomach, screeching at him not to let you go. But he does — like he did before.

“I — I missed you too,” he says, though his voice sounds flat and scratchy and he clears his throat again.

A dozen different expressions flicker across the lovely planes of your face and finally, it settles on endeared exasperation.

“Please don’t tell me you still work through like three packs of smokes a day.”

Sanji laughs then, shaking his head as he reaches over for your luggage, “Nah — well, maybe not three but —”

You whack him softly on the arm.

“I actually tried to quit right after you left.”

“You did?”

Sanji shrugs as the pair of you start to make for the exit. He feels your gaze go slanted and shrewd.

“How long’d that last?”

He smirks, “Few hours.”

You whack him again and this time, he dodges out of the way just to bask in the bright spark of your laughter as you chase after him.

“Seriously though, you know how terrible they are for you!”

“Sure do,” he says, tugging one out of his pocket as soon as he clears the airport doors, pivoting left towards the parking garage. You have to jog to keep up with his longer strides, your breaths misting the air between you in silvery puffs.

He makes no move to light it as he helps toss your luggage into the trunk of his car, sliding into the driver’s seat. You huff as you wiggle into the passenger’s side.

“Then why —”

Sanji waits patiently for you to buckle your seatbelt before pulling out of the parking space, one hand on the steering wheel, the other resting soft against the middle console. He slates you a glance.

“Cause,” he says, fixing his eyes back on the road, an easy smirk twisting his lips, “it’s a metaphor.”

You groan, sinking into the seat, “Just because you read John Green one time —”

“Oi, I’ll have you know I read his entire bibliography after you showed him to me.”

“Ugh, whatever you manic-pixie-dreamgirl-loving ass.”

“Yeah, whatever — you actual manic pixie dreamgirl.”

You smile and Sanji allows himself the brief and aching delusion that the past year and a half didn’t happen, that you never left, and that you’d never leave. That you’d always be here, warm and laughing and just within reach.

The rest of the car ride is spent in mundane conversation, in how was your flight and tell me about Florence and how’s Zeff doing these days and I wanna know about your latest dish. It’s light and easy, and Sanji lets it warm the air around him. By the time he pulls into the front of your hotel, all the unsaid words from the past year and a half have soaked through his socks and into his shoes. It sloshes out onto the pale pavement as he opens the car door.

He helps you roll your luggage up into the lobby and tells you he’ll be here at 3PM to pick you up tomorrow. The venue’s just three blocks away.

“Yeah, I’ll see you then,” you say, pursing your lips, waving as he backpedals towards the automatic doors.

“You’ve still gotta send me pictures of the dress you’re wearing — I gotta find a matching tie.”

You laugh, a bit embarrassed, “Right — and here I thought I might surprise you.”

Sanji freezes, eyes wide.

“O-oh! Er — well, you can just — just tell me what color or —” he waves vaguely, “send a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against —”

You nod, eyes glittering, eager once more, “Oh! That’s a good idea — I’ll do that.”

“Great,” Sanji says.

“Great!” you echo, perhaps a bit too chipper.

He gives you one last smile before turning and striding from the hotel, firing up the engine as calmly as he can, forcing himself not to turn and check if you’re still watching him through the brightly lit, sliding glass doors. He allows himself a glance through the rear-view mirror as he pulls away from the drive and his heart skips a beat when he realizes you’re still standing there, right in the middle of the lobby, fingers wrapped around the handle of your suitcase, your eyes fixed on the shadow of his retreating car.

He lights the smoke the second he turns the corner, your shadow no longer in his rear-view mirror.

That night, Sanji dreams in fits and leaps, flashing images and long, sticky streams of could-have-beens —

He dreams of your laughter in a white-tiled kitchen, of powdered sugar and eggshells cracked and leaking on an exposed wood counter, chopsticks clinking against a thick glass mixing bowl. He dreams of your voice echoing off the shower tiles as you sing off-key, the way you used to when you’d sneak into his college dorm for movie night and a midnight snack. He dreams of coffee mugs and errant rose petals and dandelion seeds blowing in the wind. He dreams of dancing with you in his arms in a darkened dorm room that morphs into a bigger room with a softer carpet, one that he’d never seen before but he knows implicitly (like bodies know) is his home — it has pictures on the walls, trinkets lining the far bookshelf, your favorite scarf draped over the back of the well-worn sofa.

In the dream, you pull your head back from where it's pillowed against his shoulder and smile up at him. He leans down to kiss you, his lips hovering half an inch from yours.

Sanji jerks awake to the sound of his alarm, fingers fumbling for his phone, groaning as he smashes the orange snooze button and flips over to bury his face back into his lumpy pillow.

“Ah… fuck.”

It’s not the first time he’s had that dream, and he knows it won’t be the last. But it’d been so real that night, real enough to make him wonder if it just might come true.

He rubs at his sleep-crusted eyes and peers blearily at all the notifications on his screen. There’s a text from you with a picture attached. He clicks it open to find a short message attached to the picture — I really did want to surprise you…

He blinks for three seconds at what looks like a blurry picture of studded black silk before he remembers —

“Send me a picture of a corner of the dress — just so I have something to color match against.”

He allows himself a laugh, swinging his feet out of bed even as he types back — you coulda just told me it was black…

He watches the three little dots appear and disappear a few times, chewing on his bottom lip, before the text appears — well there are different shades of black, right???

Sanji laughs, shaking his head.

sure there are.

A string of tongue-out emojis, followed by an equally long string of middle-finger emojis.

He spends the rest of the morning fussing over which specific black tie to wear before settling on one that he’s quite sure is the exact same shade of black as your dress (and yes, he does have quite the collection of black ties), before tugging his best suit out to press.

It shouldn’t feel so easy, slipping back into the rhythm of things, of texting and smiling and hearing your voice in his head when he reads your texts. It shouldn’t feel so easy to forget the months of radio silence and guilt, the oppressive, resonant weight of what might have been if either of you had done a single thing different that day at the airport — he wonders if he should’ve reached for your hand, he wonders if you’d ever looked back.

He hadn’t. He couldn’t let himself.

He is waiting for you in the lobby at 2:45, wearing a hole into the plush Persian carpet, collecting strained looks from the concierge who had assured him three times in the last four minutes that he’d already rung up to your room and that you’d said you were on your way.

“Wow, you’re early — sorry I took a while — I couldn’t figure out what to do with my hair and —“

Sanji lifts his head and thinks distantly that all those rom-com cliches of a guy looking up, time itself slackening, the room smearing sideways around him, the music going slow, the lighting soft — all of it is painfully, startlingly true after all.

Because there you are, walking towards him, still saying something, but he can’t make out the words anymore because time isn’t really a thing anymore, is it? He can’t focus on that and also the dark glimmer of your dress, the way the neckline skates just beneath your collarbones, barely skimming the skin there before it slips down along the slope of your shoulders in a way that makes his breath unspool inside his chest like loose threads.

And in the slanted, ethereal light of the winter afternoon, your dress looks like it’s cut from a swath of darkest midnight, moonless and scattered with stars.

You blush as Sanji attempts to pick his jaw up off the floor and hitch his lips into something resembling a smile.

“W-wow… you look…”

Your smile is shy as you press your palms against the dress, looking down, “Thanks… you don’t think it’s… too much?”

Sanji shakes his head, feeling dazed.

“No! I mean — it’s —“ his mouth is dry, drier than he ever remembers it being, and suddenly it’s very hard to swallow and Sanji isn’t even sure the muscles in his neck know how to perform the action, let alone force words out alongside it. He struggles for another few seconds, his jaw working furiously as his eyes skitter down and back up the shape of you.

“You look… perfect,” he says, finally, because the word has been ricocheting around his chest like a stray bullet and he had to let it out somehow.

“Thanks — you don’t look so bad yourself,” you say, your voice breathy in a way that makes Sanji’s stomach squeeze.

He offers you his arm, and you glide forward to take it.

He drives the three blocks to the wedding venue in a daze, his mind spinning slow and off-axis, tilted so by the gentle waft of your perfume, the lullaby of your voice as you chatter nervously about this and that and the weather, I mean, can you believe it’s gonna be an outdoor wedding in the winter? He wonders briefly why you’re so nervous, and then he’s reminded of the reason he’s even here at all — your ex will be here. Ah. Right.

“Ready?” he asks, offering you his arm again as the both of you follow the meandering stream of arriving guests toward the paved outdoor garden area where the ceremony is due to take place.

“No, but… you’re here so…” you let out a breath and for a second, Sanji almost thinks he hears the hint of an ache in your voice. An ache like an old scab picked at too many times, like unrequited love, perhaps. It’s an ache with which Sanji is so intimately familiar that he immediately tamps it down and vows not to think about it again for the rest of the night.

There are stiff-backed waiters wandering around with plates of hors d’oeuvres and thin flutes of bubbling pink champagne.

Sanji grabs two glasses and hands you one.

“Cheers, then.”

“Bottoms up,” you say, tossing back the entire flute in one.

Sanji cocks his eyebrows, grinning as he follows suit, smacking his lips.

“Alright then, I guess if that’s how you’re playin’ —”

Your laughter is light, if a little strained, but he remembers how quickly bubbly drinks tend to go to your head and makes a concerted effort to slow down. You make it all the way through the actual ceremony without bumping into your ex, though you do lean over and grab Sanji’s hand as the bride and groom exchange vows — something about love being a choice, one that they promise to make every morning of every day for the rest of their lives — and he looks over to find you misty-eyed, bottom lip caught beneath your teeth.

“Sap,” he whispers, leaning over. It earns him a choked laugh and a half-hearted elbow in the ribs, but it’s worth it to see the tension melt from your shoulders.

Sanji turns back towards the bride and groom, exchanging rings now, and unbidden comes the images of you and him standing where they are — you in a dazzling white gown, him still in a dark suit, but one perhaps of more expensive material and much better tailoring. He thinks about all the things he might promise you, wonders at what you might promise him in return —

“I promise to love and cherish you —” you might say.

“I promise to make all your favorite foods,” he might say.

“I promise not to touch your emotional support le creuset pans.”

“I promise not to make you taste all my experimental dishes —”

“Okay, but what if I want to —”

He imagines the way the crowd would titter, how the officiator would affectionately clear his throat. He imagines Zeff’s warm, well-worn laughter, rough and a little torn at the edges because he’s just as sentimental as the next guy behind all the beard and gruffness. He imagines the crowd smiling up at the pair of you, the way you’d squeeze his hands to get the both of you back on track —

He jerks out of his reverie as you tug your hand away from his to clap, and it takes him a beat to realize that everyone else is clapping and cheering too. He blinks — the bride and groom are kissing, pulling apart as the music swells around them and they link hands to walk back down the aisle.

Sanji clears his throat and hurriedly gets up to clap as well, his eyes trailing the radiant smiles on both the newlyweds’ faces. Another sharp ache sings through him but he feels your hand in his again and he can’t tell if he wants to grip you tighter or pull away. They’d both hurt just as much, wouldn’t they?

“C’mon, let’s get inside — I wanna judge the catering with you,” you whisper, your breath tickling his cheek, and he knows without having to look that you’re standing on your tiptoes, your chin almost propped on his shoulder.

He fights down a bout of shivers and smiles, “My favorite part of any formal event, honestly.”

You laugh, “I know — me too.”

So you spend the entire dinner service whispering to each other about the food —

“God, this steak is so well done I think it just might dislocate my jaw —”

“What’s in this sauce?”

Sanji chews thoughtfully before making a face, “Dunno, but it’s got oregano.”

“Oh the cake looks good though.”

“Yeah, but we both know how much sugar and butter goes into that right?”

You nudge him with an elbow, “Weird, cause I’m pretty sure happiness is also made of sugar and butter.”

“Well for me, it’s always been…” but Sanji trails off, biting his tongue. No. He can’t say that — not now. Not here.

Because for him, happiness has always just been you.

So instead, he swallows passed his own mouthful of regrets and attempts a lopsided grin. And thankfully, your attention is drawn elsewhere by a loud peal of laughter before he has to make a shitty joke about happiness being a well-lit kitchen and a gas-lit stove.

You’re both at least a bottle of champagne deep when it finally happens, inevitable as a summer storm — your ex saunters up to you on the dance floor, sporting a grease-slick grin, eyeing you up and down like a piece of well-cut meat. Sanji is at the bar, grabbing more drinks and you’re catching a breath of fresh air just outside the dance hall.

“Well, well, well — look who it is.”

Sanji turns sharply at the sound of the voice, his eyes narrowing — Asshat. Fantastic. The bartender is putting the finishing touches on two custom cocktails but blinks, confused, as Sanji swipes both drinks out from the bar and casts him a hurried grin.

“Thanks mate, these look great,” Sanji raises the cocktail glasses at the bewildered bartender before hurrying off, slowing ever so slightly as he reaches you, straightening his spine and smoothing out his shoulders.

“Here, got them special-made for you,” he says, pressing the cocktail into your hand, cutting into something that Asshat is saying.

“Oh! Thanks — oh wow, this looks so good!” you beam up at him, taking a sip.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you were still hangin’ out with this guy,” Asshat says, hooking his thumbs into his belt-hoops and jutting out his chin.

You frown, pressing your lips, “Excuse me?”

Asshat scoffs, posturing, “I mean, when we broke up, it was cause o’him right? So I just thought you might’ve realized what a mistake that was and —”

Sanji barely has the time to feel offended before Asshat is gasping and stumbling back. You’d tossed the remainder of your drink straight into his face.

“What the —” Asshat sputters, his fists clenching, but quick as anything, Sanji swipes out a leg that catches him right in the shins and makes him stumble. In one fluid movement, Sanji pushes his own drink into your hand before reaching out the other arm to steady the now flailing Asshat, catching him around the shoulders.

“Whoa there! Seems like you’ve had a bit too much to drink, my friend!” he says, loud enough for the people around you to hear. He thumps Asshat on the back in a would-be kind gesture before tugging him close, still coughing, and hissing in his ear —

“Listen here, you asswipe — you’re gonna turn around and walk away and stay the fuck away from us for the rest of this wedding, you understand? I’ve got plenty more o’this for ya if you don’t, got it?”

Sanji scuffs his foot along the gravel-covered ground in a motion that could easily be mistaken as fidgeting, but you know better. And so, it seems, does Asshat, who scoffs and shoves Sanji off him with a glare, but after another second, straightens his drink-soaked jacket, turns, and stalks away.

You let out a long breath, swallowing hard.

“Hey darlin’… you alright?” Sanji turns and bends down to level his eyes with yours.

“Y-yeah — thanks — you didn’t need to —”

“Nah. Course I did — it’s why you invited me, right?” he allows himself a lopsided grin that borders on self-deprecating and you look up, eyes wide.

“No! I — that’s not —”

“It’s okay, love — I promise I’m not offended —” Sanji’s babbling, he knows he is — but he has to, because the alternative of letting you speak, of letting you confirm what he already knows to be true (that you’ve only ever seen him as a best friend, that you love him in all the ways except for the one way he wants you to, in the one way he loves you) is too much. He tucks his hands in his pockets and shrugs up his shoulders, pulling them up towards his ears like armor.

And then you lean in and kiss him, and every single word he’s ever thought of saying just to fill the silence turns to mist and mornings on his tongue. His mind turns blissfully blank and when he regains consciousness (or has he? Because isn’t this the dream he’s dreamt every waking moment of his life for the past… however many years?), he thanks every god he can name that he feels his fingers in your hair, his other hand cupping the soft curve of your jaw. He tastes your uncertainty against his lips and presses in, hoping, praying that if he just kissed you hard enough you might understand.

When you pull away, he can’t help the satisfied purr that curls up his chest at the pinkness in your cheeks and the slightly glazed-over look in your eyes.

“O-oh — sorry I —”

Sanji shakes his head, leaning in to push his forehead against yours.

“Nah, nah, nah — if you tell me that was a mistake now I might just turn around and never speak to you ever again — because don’t you dare —”

You let out a helpless laugh, shaking your head as you reach up to cover his hands with yours. It’s only then that he realizes they’d been shaking. He swallows and he thinks he can taste every single morning after for the rest of his goddamn life in the whisper of your breath.

“It — it’s not, I wasn’t —” you close your eyes and Sanji holds you still, foreheads still pressed. Distantly, Sanji is aware that people are cheering, that more drinks are being poured, that the dance floor is probably a mess. But he doesn’t care. He doesn’t think he’ll care about anything else ever again — why would he? Now that he’s got you.

“Shh… take your time, love… we’ve got all the time in the world.”

He feels the relief take you, and then you’re falling into him, burying your face in the lapel of his suit jacket, probably smearing it with your foundation. Vaguely, Sanji considers framing it when he gets home.

“I’m… I’m sorry it took so long — I’m sorry I didn’t — that I wasn’t…” you curl your fist into the material of his shirt and thump him lightly on the chest, even as he laughs and wraps his arms around you.

“I know, darlin’… I know.” Sanji presses his lips into your hair and can’t help a smile.

Finally. Finally.

Your hair smells like citrus shampoo.

Finally.

“I thought about you every single day,” you admit, your voice small when you finally pull back to look at him again. He thinks there might be tears in your eyes, or maybe it’s just the starlight caught in the thick night sky of your lashes.

“Did you now?” he asks, fumbling for some semblance of normalcy amidst this night of revelations.

You nod, fervently, and god he wants to kiss you again. Briefly, he wonders if he should, if he’s allowed to now. Instead, he smiles and cocks his head.

“So? What changed?” and he can’t help the tiny note of hurt out of his voice, the slightest shiver of disbelief. After all, cynicism is a hard habit to break.

Especially after so many years of practice.

You shrug, sighing, “Nothing — everything. I mean — I’d always… but then I thought — you had your career as a chef and I didn’t even know what I wanted to do with my life. But it —” you lick your lips, and Sanji nearly breaks when you tear your eyes away from his. He wants to force you back, to soak in the dark and bright of your gaze till he can see the world exactly as you see it.

“It’s always been you…” you say.

At this, Sanji does break. He tips your face towards him with a thumb and a forefinger and leans in, waiting for you to pull back, bracing for it. But you don’t — instead, you press in and close the space between you again, and again, and then again.

He wants to tell you — he needs to tell you that it’s always been you too, that there’s never been anyone else. From the moment he first laid eyes on you, he’s known, even though both of you were children back then, and neither of you had any idea what “love” actually meant. He knew then, too.

“Love…” his voice trails off, but you smile, and he knows you know, knows that you can hear it in the rawness behind his voice, in the softness of his breath, in the way it shakes.

You make to kiss him again. But your lips hover half an inch from his and you stop. Sanji sighs.

“What — why’d you stop?”

Your smile is sweet and sharp, honey glinting on a razor’s edge, and he knows that he has you. And maybe that he’s always had you and was just too blind, too terrified, to see it.

“Haven’t you heard? It’s a metaphor.”

Sanji groans, “Fuck your metaphors.”

You bat your lashes, pulling an expression of mock affront onto your face.

“Well at least wine me and dine me first —”

Sanji licks his lips, “What’dyou think I’ve been trying to do for the last ten years?”

Your breath catches.

“Oh.”

Sanji smirks and kisses you again, slowly this time, languid and deep. Unhurried. He luxuriates in the way you go soft in his arms, in the way he can feel the gentle hitch of your breath as he runs his tongue along the edges of your teeth, coaxing you towards him, closer and closer and closer.

The hardest, angriest part of him wants to swallow you whole, bite down just to hear you hiss, to taste your blood on his tongue. To make you feel even a sliver of the pain he’d felt. He tamps it back down — there’s time for that later.

Instead, he forces himself to pull back and allows himself the satisfaction of watching you chase him, pursing your own lips with a bashful look away, your cheeks dark.

“So,” Sanji takes half a step back, puffing out his chest in the best imitation of a fuckboy at a wedding party, “wanna get outta here?”

You let out a helpless laugh, falling into his side. He lets the sound ring through him like so many silver bells.

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

He chuckles, looping an arm around your middle and leaning towards your ear.

“Your place, or mine?”

You roll your eyes, “I’m pretty sure I still have a toothbrush at your place.”

Sanji hums, “You still have a whole drawer at my place.”

You smile up at him, open and happy and sincere, “Then… I guess that’s your answer then.”

[i-am-vita]

Ghost Rose musings: Loves and Friends

Some shorter Headcanons for OcReader because I have too many ideas to concentrate in my actual WIPs. And I still have to finish her bio and family. And her Phantom Pirates crew because stupid overachieving brain has to create full Ocs and lore. I swear I worked on this a normal amount of time.

Based on my first OPLA older menxfemreader headcanons

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👉 Masterlist

Phantom Pirates Crew already.

Soon the Strawhats.

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Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Mihawk, Bogard, Garp, Buggy, Zeff, Kuro, Crocodile, Do Flamingo, Big Mom.

Warnings: Swearing, back at excessive and unnecesary use of the word Fuck. Suggestive themes. Some spoiler of future OP (for the just OPLA readers).

Expect: Use of You, not y/n. Still bad english. These are not the Consistent Time Tenses you are looking for. I wrote half of this instead of working.

Still not beta'd because I exist in the void.

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Redhead "I Ran Away with Him not Abducted by" Shanks

Bestie (with benefits most of the time). The person you trust most in the world. Always there when you need him, somehow. You love him to death, as a friend because man’s anti commitment in the best of days and you know it.

He is NOT jealous that Mihawk is interested in you and you reciprocate enough to have ended his benefits indefinitely. Not at all... Of course you deserve someone who loves and cherish only you as the treasure you are, to wake with you in his arm for the rest of his life... Fuck.

Fave of your Captain Erik. He still believes he can convince Shanks to settle down with you. Maybe he should arrange more jobs where you end up stranded somewhere and Shanks has to pick you up.

Benn "Hang in There, Old Man" Beckman

Just marry his Captain already so he has another babysitter that's not him, damn it! Give a man a break. May teams up with Eriksson to rid Shanks of his libertine ways.

Totally not getting Shanks all riled up by wondering out loud if Mihawk would actually propose to you. Should he tell him about the Bathhouse incident?

Dracule "I'm not Falling for Him" Mihawk

Woman, you stole from him, cinderella-ed him and he keeps looking for you. Get your shit together and fuck him already instead of running away after smooch him and heavy making out with him every time he finds you. It's not like you're falling in love with him. Nop... Fuck.

He is absolutely not so head over heels about you that has started to name your future child. Damn, you want to bring over your redhead plaything idiot from time to time? Go ahead. That Marine fucker better keep away from you. No, he’s not drunk in your favorite sweet red berries juice wine that he despises but still drinks because it reminds him of The Day You Met and the taste of your lips… Maybe.

Fave of your captain's wife. Full going for he's-the-catch-of-the-season victorian-matchmaker mode. May be arranging an unusual amount of balls and inviting him. Has the wedding planned already.

Bogard "It Would Never Have Worked" Rick

We don't talk about Bogard. Too sad and guilty for leaving him hanging in your youth. You can't help but still care for him. Maybe still love him. A little. Let's not think about him.

He's not dying inside to have discovered you're the Ghost Rose and you may be in love with Mihawk. Absolutely no... Fuck.

Wait until he finds out about Shanks.

Monkey D. "My Son is the Most Wanted Man in the World" Garp

He is all for Bogard to "go fight for her, you idiot". Actually likes you and your boss.

If the Duchess arranges a ball, he's sending Bogard undercover to inform him if he notices some "suspicious activity". Bogard isn't getting it, would just byronicly sulk in the noir corners, doing his job and longing for you from afar.

"And why didn't you dance with her, moron? yOu WeRe DoInG yOuR jOb... I didn't get married and had a son by staying away just doing my job." Wait, was he married to the mother of his son? "Am I a barbarian like Roger? Of course I am married to the mother of my son." Wait, is she still around? "Like alive? Of course. She left and hates the guts of me for being absent all the time and driving our son away to an anti-government life but... still!" Hence...

Neither of you knows what is your bosses deal or history but Garp may be the only Marine in the world who knows that Duke Shostakovich Eriksson is the Phantom Captain. And gives no shit because he's a pal.

Who else is going to snitch all the gossip from his son's whereabouts and the marine highest ranks info they try to hide to him? All those jobs of sneaking in Marine Bases to get intel? They didn't come from him. Not at all... Oh.

Buggy "It was Just One Time" the Clown

You were wasted-drunk and freshly dumped Kuro!!! Not happening again because STANDARDS. Just don't let him sweet talk you and look at his pretty blue puppy eyes at the same time. DO. NOT. LOOK.

Somehow, your captain adores him, thinks he has potential. For what? You have no idea. Outdo him in extravagance?

Buggy kisses the ground your captain walks on. Even when he already told him that Roger never confessed to him about the One Piece. Doesn’t matter. Eriksson rocks. Yes, he knows his identity as does Shanks since he was besties with their captain. Never telling, clown’s promise!

Your crewmates Raoul and Carlotta may or may not have a crush on him. They can have all his chop-chop parts for all you care.

Red "I Ate my" Leg "to Save This Little Flirty Gremlin" Zeff

Eriksson's old bestie. Worked together for a while to seek information about the All Blue. They just talk in insults to each other.

They were supposed to meet that time his ship was wrecked and looked for him for months until your crew found him in that rock with his new kid. "And why the fuck did you tough it was a great idea to raid a ship in the middle of a storm, you mangy landlubber?" “There was something suspicious! Germa 66 was in the area some weeks ago, gossip said they may have planted something important there, you hornswogglin' son of a biscuit eater!” *Kid looks around pretending not being there*. "And that's why the intel dealer is me, not you, scurvy-ridden old sea rat!" *Eriksson looks pointly at kid while Zeff isn't looking*.

Helped him to retire and open his restaurant. His kid may have had a massive crush on you.

Not-friends/Hated

Kuro "Fuck That Guy and His Fucking Plans"

Except you did. Literal and metaphorical. And then dumped him for being a piece of shit. But the guy dared to threaten your niece and spat your identity in front of Bogard. Now they can truthfully give him up for death.

Sir "I Hate that Guy" Crocodile

He DARED to mistake you for an escort and groped you when he went to try to make a deal with Eriksson (as the Duke, not the Phantom Captain, he’s unaware of his alter ego). You almost beat the shit out of him (Gara vs Rock Lee style, see: Naruto) but ended up very even at the time.

(Doesn't look like I thought about this obsessively.)

After that, he actually respected you but still ogles you shamelessly. Not forgetting it for the rest of your life. It goes without saying he never got a deal from the Duke.

It would be a shame if in the future it reaches the ears of a certain Best Swordsman to whom Croc is allied.

Don Quixote "That Fucking Bastard" Do Flamingo

Your captain despises him. They have history. Say no more, for you that's enough.

Charlotte "Big Souless Ugly $%&! Bitch Mom" Linn Linn

Hate her with all your being. No more comments or you may stab someone.

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[cozage]

I finished OPLA and here are my thoughts.

There will be a time and place for criticism, but now is not that time. Now is a time for celebration. Of the greatest Live Action anime adaption to be created.

There’s gonna be very light spoilers in this, so read on if you’d like.

I think my favorite part of it all is that you can tell just how much care went into this show. This production team was truly made by fans, for fans. The little nods towards things in the future really made me keep my eyes peeled and had me freaking out over the littlest moments. Things like Binks no Sake playing in the bar, and Nami reading Nolan the Liar were my favorite. I’m sure there were hundreds of other moments, but those were the two that had my feet kicking and giggling like a maniac.

Am i blinded by biasness and clouded with my love for One Piece? Yes. I’m aware of that. But I went into this show knowing it was a new, different adventure than the one I was familiar with. It’s not perfect to the manga, and they’ve said from the beginning it wouldn’t be. I think that’s the hardest part for people: not understanding why “pointless” changes were made (there were only two changes that kind of bothered me, but we can talk about those later). Most of the changes that occurred still felt fluid and natural, giving a lot more screen time to beloved characters who we normally don’t see for hundreds of chapters. I liked that aspect. Not everyone will. But keep an open mind.

Just like when I watched the anime, I found myself smiling and laughing the whole time. Joyboy is still very alive and apparent in this live action. As an anime and manga fan, i loved this new aspect of their journey and this new medium to watch. It kept me intrigued, surprised, and so invested in my crew. Just like when I watched the anime, I had a very difficult time picking who was my “favorite”, because they’re all so enjoyable and quirky in their own way.

Are there things to improve? Absolutely. There always is. All I can hope is that it gets enough love and attention that Netflix will renew it for a season 2, and we’ll all get to explore the Grand Line and Alabasta together.

If you’re on the fence, or didn’t like the first episode and decided to drop it, I implore you to keep going. I think it gets better by the episode. And so much happens, I was never really bored. Please watch it, even if you just have it on in the background. This show is so special to so many people, and the next season cant get better if we don’t give it the chance.

[amethysttribble]

Funny that in the flashback they’re calling Luffy an urchin and implying he lives in a boathouse (?). We don’t know the details of his living situation prior to Dadan, but he certainly was living /somewhere/ with /someone/

Personally, I think it was the mayor. Maybe Makino.

He’s Monkey D. Luffy! No way he’s just living on his own, Windmill is providing for Garp’s grandson in some way

Roger’s shit eating grin is perfect

[momonyu]

───ロマンス ドーン !

helloo! you can call me cee — welcome to my one piece writing blog ♡ i don't write too often anymore, but i hope you enjoy whatever you find here ଘ(੭ˊᵕˋ)੭

» coloring credit: @missgoldnweek / divider credit: @saradika-graphics

✧.*･｡ﾟ— DAWN. she/they pronouns, late-20s, asian canadian. cat mom, stardew farmer, supporter of public libraries. previously wanosuns + loguetowns.

✧.*･｡ﾟ— DAYLIGHT. opla enjoyer + manga reader exclusively but i'm only caught up to ch 1049 (no spoilers please!). the east blue crew hold a precious place in my heart, romance dawn 'til the day i die ♡

✧.*･｡ﾟ— DUSK. i'm a really inconsistent writer but when i do, it's sfw! i may venture into 18+ content in the future, and if i do then i ask that minors dni.

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RECENT UPDATES (10/09)

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[theteapotofdoom]

Just seen your post about being interested in SanjixEveryone, idk if you are watching the LAOP only, but may I introduce you to Sanji/Ace? 👀👀👀 Ace being Sanji's bisexual awakening/panic the best HC ever istg

OKAY OKAY OKAY

So technically I’m OPLA only because it was basically my introduction to the story (other than fandom osmosis) and I’ve barely started reading the manga.

BUT if there’s two things that you need to know about me is 1) I usually don’t care about spoilers, especially for long running series 2) when the the hyperfixation kicks in, I go on a full deep dive for weeks in the tumblr tags and in the wiki.

So basically, I know about Ace and the Sanji x Ace ship, specifically because I love Sanji and went through a deep dive in the Sanji tag and now I’m aware of almost all the Sanji ships. And I must say that Ace x Sanji is definitely one of my favorite so far

I don’t know a whole lot about him yet (although I got spoiled about what happens to him) but he has huge himbo energy and it’s absolutely hilarious to pair him with Sanji, the supreme malewife. I also really love the idea of Ace being his bisexual awakening because when a hot guy walks around your ship with his tiddies out and lights your cigarette with his sexy fire power, it will definitely make you reconsider your preferences.

Basically, Ace x Sanji is a 10/10 ship in my book and I’m very excited to see more of them in the future 👌

[jteditanime]

A little announcement

Hello, later this week I want to begin a reread of One Piece (I am caught up, but I've read it just once) and I will be posting some notes (chapter by chapter) on my second blog. I'm mostly doing this for myself since the first time around I have finished it in a month, but now I feel like diving in it once again and going slow. So if you want to check it out or share your own thoughts feel free to do that, but beware that there might be spoilers for future chapters. Btw I am not a native speaker so don't expect super detailed analysis and perfect grammar, just personal observations of a fan I guess.

Anyway I'm still watching the anime (finished Arlong Park Arc) and will be posting gifs as usual + I've watched a couple of One Piece films (one of them is an OVA from a different studio I think) so I will post something from those too. And then I plan to watch OPLA again while the anime and manga are fresh in my mind. So there should be some fun content to make from the Live Action too while we wait for the second season.

[sanjispudding]

OPLA thoughts

I decided I wanted to sit down and pour out my thoughts on Netflix’s Live Action One Piece. I’m going to start by saying this: It was a beautiful adaptation. You could feel the love from everyone involved in every single scene. 

Before we fully dive into this, I want to make a mini disclaimer that, yes, there will most likely be spoilers.

Let’s start with an easy one, the soundtrack. One of the things I love about the anime is the music and I can say the same about the live action as well. Sonya Belousova and Giona Ostinelli knocked it straight out of the park with every track. The sound that left me when I heard Bink’s Brew in the background could only be described as a surprised squeak. And then, in episode 4, when our crew gets the Going Merry…I teared up. We Are?! In the live action?? Absolutely brilliant. But let’s talk a bit about some of the original tracks. “Chop Chop Cannon” might be my favorite. I can’t explain why, I just love the circus music. Arlong’s theme went so hard I don’t even know where to start. Belousova herself stated that “Wealth, Fame, Power” is a combination of Luffy and Roger’s themes, and that Roger’s theme is Luffy’s in reverse. If that doesn’t clue you in on how fantastic this soundtrack is, I’m not sure what will. So, if you get a chance, I highly recommend simply listening to the soundtrack. I can’t lie, that’s what I’m doing as I type this out.

Another easy bit to talk about: the cast. Everyone, from our main crew to the villains and even the side characters were perfectly cast. 

The Strawhats especially had me smiling from ear to ear. Iñaki Godoy’s performance as Luffy has a special place in my heart. He embodies the purehearted energy that Luffy is full of so well. I’ve seen little complaints here and there about certain scenes of him “refusing food” but you need to see the context of when he does and why. For example, one of those scenes happens when Zoro is hurt. Luffy wouldn’t sit there and have a feast when his friend is hurt. That’s not our captain. I could probably write a paragraph on each actor and their performance…But that would turn this into an essay and I don’t think anyone wants that. 

Initially, when the trailer first dropped, I was unsure of Arlong and the Fishmen. But after seeing the episodes, they were so well done. Arlong was just as threatening and scary as he was supposed to be. The use of prosthetics instead of CGI was a wonderful choice and only added to the beauty of the show. It gives me a lot of hope for how they could handle Chopper in the future as well.

I said this before, but I love the fact that things are different in the live action. You get to experience these characters and story beats again in a way that feels so new it’s almost like you’re seeing it for the first time again. I constantly wish I could go into One Piece blind again, and this adaptation sort of allows me to do just that. Things I thought wouldn’t make me cry again, definitely did. Two of the biggest examples being Sanji's goodbye to Zeff and the Baratie, and Nami asking for help. 

There are also SO many Easter Eggs for fans to find. I won’t point them all out, that would turn this into a longer thing than necessary, but it adds so much to the series. Things as small as known characters wanted posters to things as obvious as Nami reading the story of Nolan to Zoro.

Now, this isn’t to say that this adaptation is without faults. Nothing is perfect. One of the bigger complaints I’ve seen and have to agree with, is that Usopp and Sanji should have been more present in their respective arcs. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we get a season 2 and we get to flesh out their characters more. It’s what they/we deserve. I don’t fully get why we introduced Garp so early either, or kept Koby and Helmeppo around for so long. I don’t think it was a bad choice per se, just an odd one. It does have me wondering about the next meeting, if the live action gets there that is. Hopefully it does, the War arc would be fantastic in the live action.

It has been an absolute joy to see people who have never given One Piece a chance before, watch it now. Oda created something special and it’s amazing to see new fans of all ages come out of this adaptation. These new fans are in for a wild ride, especially if we get more. With Loguetown and Alabasta set up as our next arcs, the future of this series is looking bright. If they thought the reception of these 8 episodes was great, just wait until they introduce us to Chopper and Robin. Crocodile remains one of my favorite One Piece villains and seeing him in live action would be a dream come true.

[zonaenthusiast]

do robin x zoro have more significant interactions than nami x zoro in manga and anime?

i'm new to this fandom since i have only seen the live action and i noticed that a lot of people call nami x zoro siblings while shipping robin x zoro, so what's this about?

i'm loving nami x zoro in opla so far and am excited for robin's future appearance but i dread other shippers hating on zoro/nami!

Uh, well, hello and welcome to the fandom!

Disclaimer: this will have my personal and subjective interpretations of some ships but you are free to think what you like, of course! No ship is bad! (unless it's problematic, then it's bad).

I will try to be a little bit vague because I don't want to give you many spoilers, but the thing about Zoro and Robin is that they had a very peculiar relationship when she first joined the crew. Let's just say that Zoro didn't trust her at all and that lasted for a while but, despite that, he was always willing to protect her if necessary like she was any other of his nakamas (and she was). Besides, she made a few efforts to get close to him and even teased him sometimes.

I think people really digged that dynamic of I don't trust you but I guess we have to work together. This is actually funny because it's actually very similar to Zoro's dynamic with Nami at the beginning, it's just that with Robin he was much more obvious because he had legitimate reasons to distrust her.

That lasted for a couple of sagas and they had a handful of moments together that are pretty interesting (one of my favorite parts of the Skypiea arc is a scene of them) but then, after she managed to gain his trust, they didn't have much more moments together (they have one ocasionally but they are rare). The thing about Zoro and Robin is that they are the most introverted of the crew, so they barely talk to each other because they aren't usually the first ones to start a conversation. You will see them together and they will be confortable with each other, but most of the time they don't talk to each other.

I get the appeal of this ship, but I don't really enjoy it because Robin has... peculiar tastes, to say the least, and Zoro doesn't fit in them. I don't know if you know who the other main ship for Robin is but in the last few years I would say they have become more popular than Zoro/Robin, especially after Dressrosa.

About Zoro and Nami... it's a hated ship internationally, yes, and we are constantly in the trenches for liking them as a couple, but the funny thing is that it's a pretty well loved ship in Japan. Internationally, people tend to see them as siblings but it never happened to me (examples of a sibling relationship for me are Nami and Usopp or Zoro and Chopper, but not them). Besides, the headcanon of a huge part of the international fandom is that Zoro is gay (Zoro's main ship is Sanji) and Nami is lesbian (my headcanon is that both of them are bisexuals).

It doesn't help that interactions between Zoro and Nami have also decreased in recent years, to be honest, but we've been on a roll recently and not just because of the live action. In my humble opinion, Zoro and Nami's interactions are more significant that Zoro and Robin's, if only because they've been together from the very beginning.

Some people think that the scenes between Zoro and Nami were weird in the live action but I promise you, and this doesn't have to do anything with them a a ship, just as a duo: if you've really paid attention to the dynamic that Zoro and Nami have maintained since the beginning of the manga (something I've been doing since I was twelve), you know the only thing the live action has done is make it more explicit. Oda is much more subtle when it comes to establishing relationships between characters but the live action doesn't have the time for that, so they've had to make everything much more obvious, more in your face. But the essence of everything is there and I assure you, the essence of Zoro and Nami is there. If someone wants to ship them or not, it's up to them and their own interpretations.

[ninhaoma-ya]

I.. have strong positive feelings about the One Piece Live Action. I will probably (re)blog more than is healthy in the foreseeable future.

Things I'll tag so you can block as needed:

#opla

#opla spoilers

#in the flesh

Also, there will be

#general screaming pertaining to that particular episode/character/interaction

...but that I can't do much about, sorry about that.

[melonteee]

yeah, Nostalgia played big part in me enjoying the OPLA show tbh. After all the hype left my body I rewatched it and I feel a lot of stuff missing. (spoiler for next few episodes) Like there is some essence of what makes One Piece great in that show but they took so much time to give exposition to this B plot that we don't even have proper motivation for Usopp or Sanji to join the crew--and as a fellow Snooj enjoyer I knew youll be disappointed by it :((

Ahhh, I can't say anything on the future eps ofc, but even the first ep seemed to have manga shots just for novelty's sake lmao. The more I think about it, the more I'm like ...why was Zoro even tied up in this version, he was only there for ten minutes and nothing was gained from it? LMAO. I really do think the actors are so charming but this script has a lot of...super odd points with no rhyme nor reason from what I've seen

[onepiece-oc-archives]

Hello everyone!

I've decided to make another little announcement - a very happy one this time! Or a reminder? Both? Both is good.

First of all, thank you so much to all the people who have been sending me asks these past few days. It's been a blast to answer them, to think about different aspects of the One Piece world, and to hear about the amazing ideas for OCs that people have. I feel extremely proud and grateful to get to be the one you come to with those questions and I hope my answers help even just a bit.

In tune with that, friendly reminder that I'd love to see what OCs you create! I encourage you to either tag this blog - @onepiece-oc-archives - or my main blog, which is @auxiliarydetective. I'll reblog your posts on my main blog, so don't be surprised if you see a purple unicorn in your notifications. Speaking of my main blog, I've gone back in my archive until October to spoiler-tag everything that happens after OPLA S1, and will continue to spoiler tag posts like that in the future. The spoiler tag for that is the same as on this blog, so if you have that tag blocked, you'll be completely safe there.

And if you want to share your OC with the world, you don't have to rely on being found in the main OC tag or on me and my little circle of mutuals. If you want, you can also tag your post with "#fyeahonepieceocs" to make sure it gets reblogged by @fyeahonepieceocs. It's a group blog dedicated to One Piece OCs, both animanga and live action, and I'm one of the mods there. We regularly check the tag and reblog all new posts there, so if you want to share your OC with more people, feel free to put our tag on your posts. Don't be shy! The community is very friendly ^^

Well, that's it from me for now! I hope you're having a lovely day/night!