Sasuke is actually eighteen the first time he looks at Sakura and realises abruptly that he wants her. (In which being close friends with Sakura actually frightens Sasuke a lot less than being physically attracted to her.)

“You’re not like any kind of demon I’ve heard of.” Law said. “I was expecting a lot more of a ‘fiery hellbeast’ look.” “Nah, those’re my brothers.”

Sanji thinks he's got Zoro's number from day one, and there's not a thing about the swordsman that doesn't look monstrous. Then Sanji runs into the Vinsmokes again and is reminded what real monsters are like.

“Torao says a lot of stupid things,” Luffy informed him, deadpan, and Law huffed a laugh and kissed him again—longer, this time, like he was trying to say everything he couldn’t manage aloud. Like doing this right was the only thing that mattered, now. Monet watched the star-lines drift past in the viewport, shimmering as they sped across the black.

there is blood under his fingernails and all of it is his; he doesn't clean it out, just looks at the dark lines while the water runs, thinks about the scrape of his nails over stone while he writhed at joker's feet, tearing the skin from his fingers, unfeeling in the face of other agony.

If he lives you’ll kill him yourself, for being so recklessly good-hearted, for being such a fool.

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