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  1. #21
    Brook




    "Don't count the days, make the days count"

  2. #22
    cant wait for sanjis masterplan reveal

    mr prince hype

  3. #23
    I would have preferred a glare of determination or a smirk from Sanji though. Maybe next chapter.




    "Don't count the days, make the days count"

  4. #24
    I thought jimbei was being pubished by big mom

  5. #25
    Quote Originally Posted by Pimp of Pimps View Post
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    I would have preferred a glare of determination or a smirk from Sanji though. Maybe next chapter.
    That would be an odd situation for him to smirk.

  6. #26
    Quote Originally Posted by Ava View Post
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    I thought jimbei was being pubished by big mom
    He probably was. We have yet to see what really happened. It'd be cool if he got lucky and didn't have to lose anything though.

  7. #27
    Nekomamushi's Avatar
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    Either he backed down or Big Mom did not give him too hard a punishment. He seems to be absolutely fine so i don't think anything serious happened. While backing down is unlike Jinbie it would make sense if the roulette gave a result that would endanger his life and he thought "no i can't die before i meet Luffy and co again" and asked BM if he could back out of it.







  8. #28
    Brook's resolution ain't bad at all.

    - - - Updated - - -

    If Sanji doesn't do something big whether he goes crazy or crafts a masterful plan. He's really fallen low.

  9. #29
    i c e's Avatar
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    Quote Originally Posted by Pimp of Pimps View Post
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    I would have preferred a glare of determination or a smirk from Sanji though. Maybe next chapter.
    Weak, I agree...his snot was coming out of his nose, makes me think he is a pussy

  10. #30
    Quote Originally Posted by i c e View Post
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    Weak, I agree...his snot was coming out of his nose, makes me think he is a pussy
    I ain't noticed the snot.

    That's just Oda. That dude can't resist drawing crying faces without the snot coming out

  11. #31
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    Quote Originally Posted by Marcelle View Post
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    I ain't noticed the snot.

    That's just Oda. That dude can't resist drawing crying faces without the snot coming out
    Page 9, last panel...there should have been an evil smirk in there.. would make for much better character development...

  12. #32
    Jinbei

    Brook is such a fucking badass for confronting Big Mom like that!



    People are so quick to judge sanji for showing his true emotions and not resorting to hatred.

    This guy has the heart of a whale. He can't rise more in my books. He's the truest form of a gentleman.

    You guys are gonna all eat your words when he goes Mr. Prince style and fucks Big Mom's wedding up like no tomorrow.


    People think it's the alone of being forever alone that hurts the most, but that's not true. Everybody's alone sometimes, whether for periods when they're not dating anyone or just for a weekend while their spouse is at a conference. Alone is part of the human condition. It's the forever that pulls down the corners of your mouth just a little bit when you give someone a smile meant to indicate that everything's okay with you even though you want to scream that nothing's okay and never will be. It's the forever that tastes bitter in the back of your throat when you see a happy couple walking in the park or laughing in a restaurant. It's the forever that has you wide awake staring at your ceiling into the wee hours of the morning.Forever alone.
    There's an ongoing half-serious claim in our culture that men think about sex all the time. Every 17 seconds or so. That may be true for some guys but not a forever alone. After awhile you stop being able to think about sex, at least the way other people do. You can think about it abstractly, or when watching other people perform a stylized version of it alone in your room while you use your hand to joylessly complete a sad shadow of the biological imperative, but you stop being able to imagine sex as something you could be a part of. You see a woman in the springtime, her midriff peeking out from between the soft cotton of a shirt and the rougher waist of a pair of jeans. You start to imagine her naked, constructing a fantasy in detail, the way her breasts would sit against her chest, the soft down or absence thereof on her pubic area, and then you try to insert yourself into her presence and the fantasy crumbles to dust under the weight of its own absurdity. You know there's no chain of events, no course of actions, that could lead to that ill defined imaginary room where the two of you would meet in an act of carnal congress. There's no way to there from where you are, it's not even an alternate universe, it's an inconceivable one. It's like trying to imagine a world where everything else is the same except elephants float around like helium balloons and have to be anchored by their trunks or they'll float away. An inherently absurd thought. That's the idea of you and her being intimate. So you look away from that tiny sliver of skin, trying to keep your face from contorting in pain and bitterness. Where other men might smile at her you don't, because your smile sucks, and you suck. Forever alone.
    Eventually you don't even bother to build the image only to have it blow it away like a sand painting in a tornado. You imagine lesser things. The brush of a cool, soft, feminine hand against yours. Mundane couple bullshit like eating pancakes on a Sunday morning or watching a movie or just sharing your day with someone who gives a fuck and is not your mother. The other party in these pathetic little domestic tableaus is ill defined in your mind, because if you imagined her clearly enough to make her realistic then you know she wouldn't want you. And even with this feminine blur, this placeholder, this blurry silhouette of nothingness you project your emotions onto, the person she's with isn't really you. It's a better version of you, a thinner less obnoxious version who will control his temper before saying something cutting, who doesn't geek out and talk too much, who is free from the flaws who make you who you are and assure that nobody else will ever want to share their life with that person. Then you realize that you're fantasizing about an Archie Comics version of yourself making tomato soup for an undefined feminine projection blob, and you realize that even the part of you that creates these images doesn't want to be with you and can't imagine anyone who might. Forever alone.
    Around you the world stays mostly the same. People fall in love, hit milestones, get married, have kids. You're even jealous of the divorcees because you know that this is just a bump in the road for them, part of their journey. You're still at the starting line watching them recede, wanting to chase them and catch up, knowing you never will. But while the world is almost static, you are aging. Moving through your life alone. You start to get bitter at the milestones you've missed and the chances you'll never have. You see the graying of your hair and the years piling on like rust eating at the hull of a decommissioned ship and you realize that your opportunity for young love is already past. Even if you got it together and got in the game you'd just have a shot at middle aged love. It doesn't matter if you think women age like a fine wine, what wine connoisseur wants to live his life without ever tasting the shocking astringency of the harsh tanins of youth. Even if that's not your thing you don't want to cut it off forever. But you have. You won't even have memories of those very good years, as the song says, to keep you warm as you slide towards your dotage. All you have is your bursting store room of regrets and bitterness, and you can always cram in more. And you know that that rusty battleship will some day have a hole in its hull and be fixable, good for nothing more than salvage scrap. You add up the time it would take to lose the weight, get your teeth fixed, figure out your professional career, the time until you can smile at that woman in the coffee shop with confidence rather than the stomach sickness of self hate, and you realize it all adds up to a very big number. Everyone thinks of themselves as eternally 22 but at some point you are forced to admit that you are 37 and half your life is over and the back nine of the remaining half is not a time when people finally get that whole dating thing right. If the window is not closed its halfway there and sliding fast. Forever alone.
    All this breeds desperation and depression so you shove it back because you need to function, you need to keep eating and staying warm, you can't just stop and feel. But your dam is fragile and it leaks. And when you see that girl whose hand you want to brush against, who could sit with you looking into your eyes through the steam coming off her coffee cup and just be, who could understand you (she probably couldn't, but this is something men like to project on to women) you feel the dam start to buckle and the river behind it start to surge and you don't want to break down crying in the coffee shop because that's not what people do and if you can't have love at least you can have dignity, or the appearance of dignity, or the delusion of the appearance of dignity, so you turn your face to the side, you hope and pray she doesn't try to draw your attention (generally safe on that count, old chum) and you put one fucking foot in front of the other and continue down your sad and barren blighted path. Forever alone.

  13. #33
    I was expecting anger too but crying? This is why this "lady love" gimmick needs to die. He gave up fighting for himself and his crew and relied on marrying Pudding who he had known a few hours at most and now he's crying because she isn't a perfect princess and instead an evil Big Mom pirate? Come on now. That was weak. Poor Sanji. His character just keeps getting wrecked.

    However, Brook's panel with Big Mom was absolutely gorgeous. The best thing this chapter. Jinbei's entrance was also pretty good. Though I absolutely hate the character, I can't deny that that entrance was great. I'm confused as to why he's not missing a body part though. Guess that'll be explained. Anyway.

  14. #34
    Quote Originally Posted by Pacifista View Post
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    I was expecting anger too but crying? This is why this "lady love" gimmick needs to die. He gave up fighting for himself and his crew and relied on marrying Pudding who he had known a few hours at most and now he's crying because she isn't a perfect princess and instead an evil Big Mom pirate? Come on now. That was weak. Poor Sanji. His character just keeps getting wrecked.

    You guys keep pointing this shit out, but you keep forgetting it's not a realistic scenario to beat Big Mom at this point in time.

    Why does everybody keep forgetting what happened to the Straw Hats at Shabaody Archipelago?

    Sanji He doesn't want his comrades to die, and doesn't want a repeat of that scenario again. Even IF they're much stronger than before.

    People are so quick to judge Sanji for his soft character and want him to 'MAN UP' whatever the fuck that is.

    It's what makes him a true gentleman, he's also a cook first and foremost, not a swordsman or a pirate captain.

    edit: Also he's not crying cause she's not a 'perfect' princess. He knew that was a true realistic scenario from the get go.

    It's just that he put all his money on this one in a millino chance that he could sacrifice himself and the rest would be fine. A bit like Robin.

    He's just despairing.

    So stop giving him so much trouble.
    Last edited by rub bear he reap one; 12-29-2016 at 07:45 PM.


    People think it's the alone of being forever alone that hurts the most, but that's not true. Everybody's alone sometimes, whether for periods when they're not dating anyone or just for a weekend while their spouse is at a conference. Alone is part of the human condition. It's the forever that pulls down the corners of your mouth just a little bit when you give someone a smile meant to indicate that everything's okay with you even though you want to scream that nothing's okay and never will be. It's the forever that tastes bitter in the back of your throat when you see a happy couple walking in the park or laughing in a restaurant. It's the forever that has you wide awake staring at your ceiling into the wee hours of the morning.Forever alone.
    There's an ongoing half-serious claim in our culture that men think about sex all the time. Every 17 seconds or so. That may be true for some guys but not a forever alone. After awhile you stop being able to think about sex, at least the way other people do. You can think about it abstractly, or when watching other people perform a stylized version of it alone in your room while you use your hand to joylessly complete a sad shadow of the biological imperative, but you stop being able to imagine sex as something you could be a part of. You see a woman in the springtime, her midriff peeking out from between the soft cotton of a shirt and the rougher waist of a pair of jeans. You start to imagine her naked, constructing a fantasy in detail, the way her breasts would sit against her chest, the soft down or absence thereof on her pubic area, and then you try to insert yourself into her presence and the fantasy crumbles to dust under the weight of its own absurdity. You know there's no chain of events, no course of actions, that could lead to that ill defined imaginary room where the two of you would meet in an act of carnal congress. There's no way to there from where you are, it's not even an alternate universe, it's an inconceivable one. It's like trying to imagine a world where everything else is the same except elephants float around like helium balloons and have to be anchored by their trunks or they'll float away. An inherently absurd thought. That's the idea of you and her being intimate. So you look away from that tiny sliver of skin, trying to keep your face from contorting in pain and bitterness. Where other men might smile at her you don't, because your smile sucks, and you suck. Forever alone.
    Eventually you don't even bother to build the image only to have it blow it away like a sand painting in a tornado. You imagine lesser things. The brush of a cool, soft, feminine hand against yours. Mundane couple bullshit like eating pancakes on a Sunday morning or watching a movie or just sharing your day with someone who gives a fuck and is not your mother. The other party in these pathetic little domestic tableaus is ill defined in your mind, because if you imagined her clearly enough to make her realistic then you know she wouldn't want you. And even with this feminine blur, this placeholder, this blurry silhouette of nothingness you project your emotions onto, the person she's with isn't really you. It's a better version of you, a thinner less obnoxious version who will control his temper before saying something cutting, who doesn't geek out and talk too much, who is free from the flaws who make you who you are and assure that nobody else will ever want to share their life with that person. Then you realize that you're fantasizing about an Archie Comics version of yourself making tomato soup for an undefined feminine projection blob, and you realize that even the part of you that creates these images doesn't want to be with you and can't imagine anyone who might. Forever alone.
    Around you the world stays mostly the same. People fall in love, hit milestones, get married, have kids. You're even jealous of the divorcees because you know that this is just a bump in the road for them, part of their journey. You're still at the starting line watching them recede, wanting to chase them and catch up, knowing you never will. But while the world is almost static, you are aging. Moving through your life alone. You start to get bitter at the milestones you've missed and the chances you'll never have. You see the graying of your hair and the years piling on like rust eating at the hull of a decommissioned ship and you realize that your opportunity for young love is already past. Even if you got it together and got in the game you'd just have a shot at middle aged love. It doesn't matter if you think women age like a fine wine, what wine connoisseur wants to live his life without ever tasting the shocking astringency of the harsh tanins of youth. Even if that's not your thing you don't want to cut it off forever. But you have. You won't even have memories of those very good years, as the song says, to keep you warm as you slide towards your dotage. All you have is your bursting store room of regrets and bitterness, and you can always cram in more. And you know that that rusty battleship will some day have a hole in its hull and be fixable, good for nothing more than salvage scrap. You add up the time it would take to lose the weight, get your teeth fixed, figure out your professional career, the time until you can smile at that woman in the coffee shop with confidence rather than the stomach sickness of self hate, and you realize it all adds up to a very big number. Everyone thinks of themselves as eternally 22 but at some point you are forced to admit that you are 37 and half your life is over and the back nine of the remaining half is not a time when people finally get that whole dating thing right. If the window is not closed its halfway there and sliding fast. Forever alone.
    All this breeds desperation and depression so you shove it back because you need to function, you need to keep eating and staying warm, you can't just stop and feel. But your dam is fragile and it leaks. And when you see that girl whose hand you want to brush against, who could sit with you looking into your eyes through the steam coming off her coffee cup and just be, who could understand you (she probably couldn't, but this is something men like to project on to women) you feel the dam start to buckle and the river behind it start to surge and you don't want to break down crying in the coffee shop because that's not what people do and if you can't have love at least you can have dignity, or the appearance of dignity, or the delusion of the appearance of dignity, so you turn your face to the side, you hope and pray she doesn't try to draw your attention (generally safe on that count, old chum) and you put one fucking foot in front of the other and continue down your sad and barren blighted path. Forever alone.

  15. #35
    Quote Originally Posted by Pacifista View Post
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    That was weak. Poor Sanji. His character just keeps getting wrecked.

  16. #36
    Quote Originally Posted by rub bear he reap one View Post
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    You guys keep pointing this shit out, but you keep forgetting it's not a realistic scenario to beat Big Mom at this point in time.
    .....um, who said anything about beating Big Mom?
    Why does everybody keep forgetting what happened to the Straw Hats at Shabaody Archipelago?
    ....um, how is that relevant to Sanji crying about a person from a shady background who he had known for a few hours? Yeah, it's other things that add on to that but still.
    Sanji He doesn't want his comrades to die, and doesn't want a repeat of that scenario again. Even IF they're much stronger than before.
    ....and this matters to him blubbering instead of thinking of a way to get his crew out of there and save Zeff becaaaauuuseee???
    People are so quick to judge Sanji for his soft character and want him to 'MAN UP' whatever the fuck that is.
    ....when in the name of Heaven and Earth did I EVER say "MAN UP" in over 10,000 posts on this forum? At this point, you're just venting at the collective, I know, but you quoted me. For me---Pacifista---this has nothing to do with that and everything to do with Sanji being the character that he has shown himself to be in the past.
    It's what makes him a true gentleman, he's also a cook first and foremost, not a swordsman or a pirate captain.
    ....um, no. In situations like these, Sanji thinks of a way to save his crew. Not once has he ever given up until now. Here, he sees no way out and thus gave up fighting and resigned himself to fate. Back in East Blue, he fought Gin even though he considered him a friend. Even when Zeff was put at risk with a gun to his head and Sanji stopped fighting---not once did you see him give up. His eyes were looking straight ahead. I could give an example nearly every arc.

    And don't give me that "he's not the captain" stuff. Yes, Luffy is the Captain but Sanji also has a powerful leadership position within the crew and will check even the Captain if need be in order to keep the integrity of the crew or even lead parts of them in the absence of the Captain.
    edit: Also he's not crying cause she's not a 'perfect' princess. He knew that was a true realistic scenario from the get go.
    Even more of a reason as to why this is so ridiculous. He put his hopes on a pipe dream for no reason. Pudding was his only hope? Why? Because she's a pretty woman? How shallow is that against everything he's stood for until now.
    It's just that he put all his money on this one in a millino chance that he could sacrifice himself and the rest would be fine. A bit like Robin.
    That's not enough. He just ignored the issues and focused on catering to Pudding. And a bit but not much.
    He's just despairing.

    So stop giving him so much trouble.
    Poster, it's ODA that's giving him trouble. Sanji is a fighter and always has been. To see him broken like this doesn't make any sense. Again, to see him broken like this is uncharacteristic and way too simple, especially at this point in the story.

  17. #37
    I don't see a problem with Sanji crying at all, for me it's the most realistic emotion he should be showing.

  18. #38
    Quote Originally Posted by Nekomamushi View Post
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    Either he backed down or Big Mom did not give him too hard a punishment. He seems to be absolutely fine so i don't think anything serious happened. While backing down is unlike Jinbie it would make sense if the roulette gave a result that would endanger his life and he thought "no i can't die before i meet Luffy and co again" and asked BM if he could back out of it.


    That's kind of the impression I got. Opera seemed too casual with him "Woah, you're not supposed to be in the castle ground at this moment" sounds more like Big Mom was mildly unsatisfied with him and gave him a timeout. If he actually left her crew and got his life cut I would expect Opera to be a bit more frantic and along the lines of "How did you get in here!? You turned your back on Big Mom and are no longer welcome among us!"

    I also noticed Opera's eyes weren't whited out in that last panel which makes me think he's likely to get back up.

  19. #39
    Quote Originally Posted by Albion View Post
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    I don't see a problem with Sanji crying at all, for me it's the most realistic emotion he should be showing.
    Yes, dear.

    But Sanji needs some redeeming moments to put his character into the clear.

  20. #40
    Quote Originally Posted by Vodka View Post
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    Yes, dear.

    But Sanji needs some redeeming moments to put his character into the clear.
    He'll get those moments. But this chapter was not the time to look for them.

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