#Vision is OP is this one

[vulpeculaque]

WOAH! asexual boa hancock be upon ye!!

[astriaels]

some crocos

[kalofi]

boys who snork mimimi vs girls who honk shoo

[sualne]

"You know damn well this isn't how mimics looks."

"His face is wrong!"

[surven-snacks]

This one tag: *lives in my head rent-free until I draw it*

Me: *draws it*

He's rocking it though,

(Pats the top of his head ) This boy is so handsome he can fit so many traumatic memories looks on him

[nedseii]

I looooove your Tyrells so much 🥺🥺 the designs are great and they are SO pretty in your art style!!! 💖💖 hope you might draw them again in the future……..or if you’d be willing to oblige my wish to see you draw robbaery it would make my year shdhdh

Thx for giving me an excuse to draw them 👉👈

[kookoofufu]

[mandiemegatron]

ᴸᵃʷ ᶜᵃⁿ'ᵗ ᶠⁱⁿᵈ ᵗʰᵉ ʷᵒʳᵈˢ, ᵇᵘᵗ ˡᵘᶜᵏⁱˡʸ, ˢᵒᵐᵉʰᵒʷ, ʸᵒᵘ ᵉⁿᵈ ᵘᵖ ᶠⁱⁿᵈⁱⁿᵍ ᵗʰᵉᵐ. ᴿᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ ᵘˢᵉˢ ˢʰᵉ/ʰᵉʳ ᵖʳᵒⁿᵒᵘⁿˢ.

ᴿᵃᵗᵉᵈ ; ᴳ.

ᴹᴰᴺᴵ ʷⁱᵗʰ ᵃⁿʸᵗʰⁱⁿᵍ ˡᵃᵇᵉˡᵉᵈ ¹⁸+, ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ᵇᵉ ᵇˡᵒᶜᵏᵉᵈ ᵒⁿ ˢⁱᵍʰᵗ.

ʲᵘˢᵗ ˢᵃʸ ʸᵒᵘ ʷⁱˡˡ ˡᵒᵛᵉ ᵐᵉ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵈᵃʸ, ᵃⁿᵈ ᴵ ʷⁱˡˡ ʷᵃⁱᵗ, ᴵ ʷⁱˡˡ ʷᵃⁱᵗ, ᵗᵒ ᵍᵉᵗ ʸᵒᵘʳ ˡᵒᵛⁱⁿᵍ ᵒⁿᵉ ᵈᵃʸ...

It was always at night, Law noticed, when you'd find the solace in the silence of the Tang as she swam through the darkened depths.

With the majority of the crew either sleeping or busy with keeping the Tang a well-oiled machine, you'd be here, and unbeknownst to you, so would he.

The sound was soft, like a gentle whisper on the breeze, that barely echoed in the small kitchen area as you tidied up and finished off the dinner dishes. Your voice chimed along with your baby den den radio, the same sang playing over and over though Law found himself captivated how you'd change harmonies every time it played.

He lost track of time of how long he'd stood off to the side, simply watching you in silence with his arms crossed comfortably over his chest as he leaned on the wall. His heart lurched and clenched as you hit a particularly high note, the sound crawling over his skin like a tingly and warm blanket. He'd never understand why you wouldn't sing in front of the crew, knowing they would lose their minds over having a crewmate that could actually carry a note.

"... some say you will love me one day, and I will wait, I will wait to get your loving one day..." The words tumbled from your lips almost absent-mindedly as you finished washing the dishes and moved onto drying and putting them away.

"Just say you will love me one day, and I will wait, I will wait to get your loving one day... and I will wait, I will wait..."

A small smile ticks up at the corner of Law's lips as he finally pulls himself away from watching your form sway slightly with the music, burning this image of you into his mind before taking that final step and quietly walking out from the kitchen area. The sound of his footsteps retreating pulls you from your mind, and you turn to see Law take the corner, hands in his pockets as he softly begins to whistle the same tune that played next to you.

Your cheeks burned bright red as you realize he must have been standing there, waiting to speak with you, only for you to be locked in your head. You shook your head with an embarrassed huff before going back to the dishes, turning the music up just enough to overtake the sound of your heart pounding in your ears.

As Law comes up to his office, he bumps into a yawning Shachi, who gives his best friend and Captain a pointed look as he quietly asks, "Did you talk to her?"

Law presses his lips into a fine line, almost frowning as he shakes his head. Shachi claps a heavy hand on Law's shoulder and grins before the orca hatted man adds, "There's always tomorrow."

The sound of your voice is barely a whisper by his office but Law turns either way, an almost lost look on his face as he gives a sigh. "... perhaps."

Shachi gives Law's shoulder a gentle squeeze before he makes off for his shared room with Penguin. Law barely registers his friend and crewman walking away, too absorbed by his thoughts until the sound of Shachi's door closing pulls him out of it.

Pulling himself into his office, he keeps the door cracked just enough that he can hear the murmur of your voice dancing off the metal walls.

"... There's... always tomorrow..." He repeats to himself as he sits at his desk, sighing heavily as he stares down at his unfinished paperwork.

"... just say you will love me one day, and I will wait..."

Another near nonexistent smile tugs at his lips and he picks up his pen with a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly again as he finally settles in.

Just wait for me... he thinks to himself, sparing a glance at his office door. Just a little longer...

[faroutsol]

[inoreuct]

thinking about zosan where zoro still calls sanji cook, but it rankles him to no end because (no offence to cooks, now) he is a chef. he has sweat, bled and cried for the right to call himself that. he has the burns and the scars and the skills to prove it.

but eventually he gets used to it; after a while it wears like a well-used sweater. it’s just another annoying name in the arsenal zoro has for him.

and then. one day, after they’ve been sailing together for a while, they’re in the galley and sanji absentmindedly asks zoro to do something and he answers with a “yes, chef” and sanji freezes.

he straightens. turns around. stares at zoro until the swordsman feels it and looks back, and sanji blinks. “you called me chef.”

and zoro, the bastard, has the audacity to shrug like it’s no big deal. “you are a chef. what’s the problem?”

“there’s—” sanji pauses. takes a fortifying breath and tries to stomp down on the bloom of warmth beneath his sternum. “—no problem. there’s no problem. i want those onions in rings in two minutes.”

“yes, chef,” zoro repeats teasingly, flipping the knife in his hand and getting to work, and sanji stares into the pot he’s stirring on the stove for longer that he’d like to admit.

zoro’s so blasé about the whole thing, he wonders if he’s being fucked with— but the strangely affectionate hip check he gets says otherwise, as do the knuckles scrubbed into the top of his head as they finish up dinner.

from then on, he’s chef.

(but would sanji be insane if he said that he missed being called cook?)

[mega-ringsandthings-world]

I know I've talked about how Mihawk sews and embroiders, and probably was already making/embellishing his clothes since his first appearance, (roger's execution pink tulip patches my belove-eds) but I'd like to emphasize that this man is 100% his own combination tailor/milliner/cobbler. He sews his clothes and makes his hats and there's whole 50s housewife-esque sewing room in his castle. Those v-notch-waistband pants are a perfected pattern and you know it. Whenever he meets up with Shanks he spends 30% of their time together fighting and the other 70% darning Shanks' shirts. He handmade Perona's glow-up fit because nothing hit right for her at the local op hot topic. Definitely monograms his towels. Gets bored in the Cross Guild one day and spends the better part of a week hemming Crocodile's pants and letting out his waistcoats. Keeps a needle and thread pinned inside his coat. Bills the WG for "upkeep expenses" when he decides to go ham on the latest silk exports.

[teazingsassy]

I had a vision

[mintypsii]

touch starved

continuation of this (alt version under the cut)

version where sanji doesn't look like he's gonna burst into tears

[lonelysatoru]

[polappi-draws]

Crochawk Shrek au that’s been rattling around in my head for weeks

[demonzoro]

[fic] to eat well.

pairing: roronoa zoro/sanji rating: gen word count: 4.6k

“Two years is a long time, Zoro. Too long to have your effort thrown back in your face. Even if it’s the same words and the same old argument, the stakes have changed.” Or: The crew reunite after 2 years, and Zoro reassesses the weight of his words against his regard for Sanji.

read on ao3.