[jaim-inhothekid]

# JAIME (n.)﹔He/Him + PT/BR. personal blog with occasional writing, One Piece + [n]sfw. Sir Crocodile's desert rose <3 — self shipping﹔@desert-iliad

my stuff. ♱ open comms.

𖤍 — I am openly proship/anti-censorship, I will write/reblog dark content as I please. This is a +18 blog, if you are below that age range DO NOT INTERACT.

[seithennyn]

[chernivans]

𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐘'𝐒 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐄 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓!

i've decided to host a little, flexible event lasting all the month so as to get back on track with drawing after holidays, and to start off the artsy year as well! What better time than valentine's day month!

𝗜𝗙 𝗪𝗘 𝗔𝗥𝗘 𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗧𝗦, 𝗜 𝗪𝗔𝗡𝗧 𝗧𝗢 𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗘𝗕𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗘 𝗪𝗜𝗧𝗛 𝗬𝗢𝗨!

♡ ˙ ∘ What will you get?

A chibi-styled doodle of you and your valentine in a random style!

♡ ˙ ∘ What do you have to do?

easy!! send me a selfship, a reference of you* + describe what your valentine's ideal date together would be like.

* note: reference can be a picrew, previous commissions, a picture of you, etc!

♡ ˙ ∘ What fandoms are allowed?

any!! just make sure to clarify the name of your valentine and which anime/game/etc they are from!

♡ ˙ ∘ We're moots but we've never interacted... Can you still join?

Of course! There's always a first time, so come get yours anyway!!

♡ ˙ ∘ How long will it take?

I'm planning to work on these during the whole month so you can expect to get yours anytime in February! Should there be any delays, though, I'll make sure to keep you posted!

[theoihalioistuff]

ARES IS NOT THE PROTECTOR OF WOMEN IN GREEK MYTHOLOGY.

He is never presented as such in any source, there is no evidence such a role was ever assigned to him in any account, and as far as I'm aware this popular yet unattested assertion is born from the echo-chambers of tumblr. In fact quite the opposite could be argued. TW for sexual assault.

This baffling claim seems to originate from a sort of shallow examination of the way Ares "behaves in myth", and the following arguments are the most frequently presented:

1. Ares protects his daughter Alkippe from assault, and is therefore morally opposed to rape. (Apollodorus 3.180, Pausanias 1.21.4, Suidas "Areios pagos", attributed to Hellanikos)

Curiously this argument is never applied to, among other examples: Apollo for defending his mother Leto from Tytios, Herakles for defending Hera from Porphyrion (or his wife Deianeira from Nessos), or Zeus for defending his sister Demeter from Iasion (in the versions where he attacks her), etc. The multiple accounts of rape of the previously mentioned figures did not conflict with these stories in greek thought: they're defending family members or women otherwise close to them. This sort of mentality is not uncommon even in contemporary times, e.g. a warrior may have no ethical problem killing men, but would not want his own family or loved ones to be killed. The same goes here for sexual assault.

2. There are no surviving accounts of Ares sexually assaulting anybody.

The idea that the ancient greeks pictured that, among all the gods, Ares was the only one who shied away from committing rape borders on ridiculous. In this case absence of evidence is not evidence of absence.

The majority of surviving records regarding Ares' unions are presented in a genealogical manner, and do not go into details on their nature. This is the case for most works of mythography, where specifics of sexual encounters are to be found elsewhere. However, common motifs present in other accounts of rape also appear in stories concerning Ares' relationships, e.g. tropes like shape-shifting/the use of disguises, the victim being a huntress, secrecy, and the disposal of the concieved child, are to be found in the stories of Phylonome and Astyoche respectively:

Φυλονόμη Νυκτίμου καὶ Ἀρκαδίας θυγάτηρ ἐκυνήγει σὺν τῇ Ἀρτέμιδι: Ἄρης δ᾽ ἐν σχήματι ποιμένος ἔγκυον ἐποίησεν. ἡ δὲ τεκοῦσα διδύμους παῖδας καὶ φοβουμένη τὸν πατέρα ἔρριψεν εἰς τὸν Ἐρύμανθο

"Phylonome, the daughter of Nyktimos and Arkadia, was wont to hunt with Artemis; but Ares, in the guise of a shepherd, got her with child. She gave birth to twin children and, fearing her father, cast them into the [River] Erymanthos." (Pseudo-Plutarch, Greek and Roman Parallel Stories, 36)

οἳ δ᾽ Ἀσπληδόνα ναῖον ἰδ᾽ Ὀρχομενὸν Μινύειον, τῶν ἦρχ᾽ Ἀσκάλαφος καὶ Ἰάλμενος υἷες Ἄρηος οὓς τέκεν Ἀστυόχη δόμῳ Ἄκτορος Ἀζεΐδαο, παρθένος αἰδοίη ὑπερώϊον εἰσαναβᾶσα Ἄρηϊ κρατερῷ: ὃ δέ οἱ παρελέξατο λάθρῃ: τοῖς δὲ τριήκοντα γλαφυραὶ νέες ἐστιχόωντο.

"And they that dwelt in Aspledon and Orchomenus of the Minyae were led by Ascalaphus and Ialmenus, sons of Ares, whom, in the palace of Actor, son of Azeus, Astyoche, the honoured maiden, conceived of mighty Ares, when she had entered into her upper chamber; for he lay with her in secret" (Homer, Iliad 2. 512 ff)

In neither of these cases is a verb explicitly denoting rape used, though it is heavily implied by the context. The focus of the action is on the conception of sons, the nature of the interaction is secondary.

Other examples are found among the daughters of the river Asopos, who where (and here there's no confusion) ravished and kidnapped by different gods to different parts of the greek world, where they found local lines through children borne to their abductors and serve as local eponyms. Surviving fragments from Corinna of Tanagra tell:

"Asopos went to his haunts . . from you halls . . into woe . . Of these [nine] daughters Zeus, giver of good things, took his [Asopos'] child Aigina . . from her father's [house] . . while Korkyra and Salamis and lovely Euboia were stolen by father Poseidon, and Leto's son is in possession of Sinope and Thespia . . [and Tanagra was seized by Hermes] . . But to Asopos no one was able to make the matter clear, until . . [the seer Akraiphen reveals to him] 'And of your daughters father Zeus, king of all, has three; and Poseidon, ruler of the sea, married three; and Phoibos [Apollon] is master of the beds of two of them, and of one Hermes, good son of Maia. For so did the pair Eros and the Kypris persuade them, that they should go in secret to your house and take your nine daughters." (heavily fragmented papyrus. Corinna fr. 654)

"For your [Tanagra's] sake Hermes boxed against Ares." (Corinna fr. 666)

It seems that, similar to the myths of Beroe or Marpessa, the abducted maiden is fought over by two competing "suitors", and though we can infer that the outcome of the story is that Hermes gets to keep Tanagra, apparently by beating Ares in a boxing match, we don't actually know what happened or how it happened. In any case, Ares does mate with another daughter of Asopos, Harpina, who bears him Oinomaos according to some versions (Paus. 5.22.6; Stephanus Byzantium. Ethnica. A125.3; Diodorus Siculus 4. 73. 1). There is little reason to suppose that this encounter wasn't pictured as an abduction like the rest of her sisters.

The blatant statement that each of his affairs was envisioned as consensual is simply not true.

3. He was worshipped under the epithet Gynaikothoinas "feasted by women"

This was a local cult that existed in Tegea, the following reason is given:

"There is also an image of Ares in the marketplace of Tegea. Carved in relief on a slab it is called Gynaecothoenas. At the time of the Laconian war, when Charillus king of Lacedaemon made the first invasion, the women armed themselves and lay in ambush under the hill they call today Phylactris. When the armies met and the men on either side were performing many remarkable exploits, the women, they say, came on the scene and put the Lacedaemonians to flight. Marpessa, surnamed Choera, surpassed, they say, the other women in daring, while Charillus himself was one of the Spartan prisoners. The story goes on to say that he was set free without ransom, swore to the Tegeans that the Lacedaemonians would never again attack Tegea, and then broke his oath; that the women offered to Ares a sacrifice of victory on their own account without the men, and gave to the men no share in the meat of the victim. For this reason Ares got his surname." (Paus. 8.48.4-5)

As emphasised by Georgoudi in To Act, Not Submit: Women’s Attitudes in Situations of War in Ancient Greece (part of the highly recommendable collection of essays Women and War in Antiquity), "it is not necessary to see the operation of an invitation in the bestowal of the epithet Γυναικοθοίνας on Ares". The epithet is ambiguous, and can be translated both as "Host of the banquet of women" or "[He who is] invited to the banquet of women". In any case no act of divine intervention occurs, and the main reason for the women's act of devotion lies principally in recognising their decisive role in the routing of the Lakedaimonians. It's they who preside/participate in the feast of war, the men are excluded.

Also this a local epithet that isn't found anywhere else in Greece. As such it would be worth reminding that not every Ares is Gynaikothoinas, in the same way not every Zeus is Aithiopian, not every Demeter Erinys, and not every Artemis of Ephesos.

4. He was the patron god of the Amazons

He was considered progenitor of the Amazons because of their proverbial warlike nature and love of battle, the same reason he was associated with other "barbaric" tribes, like the Thracians or the Scythians. In this capacity he was also appointed as a suitable father/ancestor for other violent and savage characters who generally function as antagonists (e.g. Kyknos, Diomedes of Thrace, Tereos of Thrace, Oinomaos, Agrios and Oreios, Phlegyas, Lykos etc.). Also he was by no means the only god connected with the Amazons (they were in fact especially linked to Artemis, see Religious Cults Associated With the Amazons by Florence Mary Bennett, if only for the bibliography).

Similarly, Poseidon was considered patron and ancestor of the Phaiakians mainly because of their mastery over the art of seafaring (and was curiously also credited in genealogies as father to monsters and other disreputable figures).

On another note I have found no sources that claim he taught his amazon daughters how to fight, as I've seen often mentioned (though I admit I'd love to be proven wrong on that point).

5. Finally, the last reason Ares could never be portrayed as a protector of women is because of his divine assignation itself

The uncountable references to his love of bloodshed and man-slaying don't just stop short of the battlefield, but continue on to the conclusion and intended purpose of most waged wars in antiquity: the sacking of the city. The title Sacker of Cities as an epithet of Ares (though it is by no means exclusive to him) is encountered numerous times and in different variations (eg. τειχεσιπλήτης or πτολίπορθος), and the meaning behind the epithet is plain. Though it is hard to summarise without being reductionist, the sacking of a city entails the plundering of all its goods, the slaughtering of its men, and the sistematic raping and enslavement of the surviving women (to name only a small few of the literary references see The Iliad, The Trojan Women or The Women of Trachis). There is little need to emphasise that war as concieved of in ancient greece, especifically the brutal aspects of war Ares is most often associated with, directly entailed sexual violence against women as one of it's main concerns. The multiple references to Ares being an unloved or disliked deity are because of this, because war is horrifying (not because his daddy is a big old meany who hates him for no reason, Zeus makes very clear the motive for his contempt in the Iliad (5. 889-891): "Do not sit beside me and whine, you double-faced liar. To me you are most hateful of all gods who hold Olympos. Forever quarreling is dear to your heart, wars and battles.")

Ares was only the protector of women inasmuch as he could be averted or repelled (e.g. surviving apotropaic chants):

"There is no clash of brazen shields but our fight is with the war god, a war god ringed with the cries of men, a savage god who burns us; grant that he turn in racing course backward out of our country’s bounds, to the great palace of Amphitrite or where the waves of the thracian sea deny the stranger safe anchorage. Whatsoever escapes the night at last the light of day revisits; so smite him, Father Zeus, beneath your thunderbolt, for you are the lord of the lightning, the lightning that carries fire." (Shophocles, Oedipus Tyrannos, 190-202)

"And let no murderous havoc come upon the realm to ravage it, by arming Ares—foe to the dance and lute, parent of tears—and the shout of civil strife." (Aeschylus, Suppliant Women 678)

~~~~~

All that being said, this is a post about Ares as conceptualized and attested in ancient sources, made specifically in response to condescending statements about how "uhmmm, actually, in greek mythology Ares was a super-feminist himbo who was worshipped as the protector of women and was hated by his family for no reason, you idiot". It is factually incorrect. HOWEVER, far be it from me to tell anyone how they have to interact with this deity. Be it your retellings, your headcannons or your own personal religious attachments and beliefs towards Ares, those are your own provinces and prerogatives, and not what was being discussed here at all (I personally love art where Ares and Aphrodite goof around, or retellings where he plays with his daughters, or headcannons that showcase his more noble sides, etc.)

~~~~~

I've seen that other people on tumblr have made similar posts, the ones I've seen were by @deathlessathanasia and @en-theos . I have no idea how to link their posts, but they're really good so go check them out on their pages!

[theoihalioistuff]

For the sake of completeness (at the expense of lengthening an already huge info dump) there are three other mentions I'm aware of regarding women in relation to the cult of Ares. The first is in Geronthrai, Lakonia:

"On the road from Acriai to Geronthrai is a village called Palaia and in Geronthrai itself are a temple and sacred grove that belong to Ares. Every year a festival is held in honor of the God, at which women are forbidden to enter the grove." (Paus. 3.22.6-7)

A similar notion is conveyed by a 3rd C. BCE autor, Teles (24.11), when he mentions that women are forbidden in the sanctuaries of Enyalios. Finally there is this story in Argos:

"But when Cleomenes king of the Spartans, having slain many Argives (...) proceeded against the city, an impulsive daring, divinely inspired, came to the younger women to try, for their country's sake, to hold off the enemy. Under the lead of Telesilla they took up arms,​ and taking their stand by the battlements, manned the walls all round, so that the enemy were amazed. The result was that they repulsed Cleomenes with great loss, and the other king, Demaratus, who managed to get inside—as Socrates says—and gained possession of the Pamphyliacum, they drove out. In this way the city was saved. The women who fell in the battle they buried close by the Argive Road, and to the survivors they granted the privilege of erecting a statue (?) of Enyalios [ἱδρύσασθαι τὸν Ἐνυάλιον], as a memorial of their surpassing valor. Some say that the battle took place on the seventh day of the month which is now known as the Fourth Month, but anciently was called Hermaeus among the Argives; others say that it was on the first day of that month, on the anniversary of which they celebrate even to this day the 'Festival of Impudence' [Hybristika], in which they clothe the women in men's shirts and cloaks, and the men in women's robes and veils." (Plut. De mul. uir. 4.245c-e) (for different accounts see Paus. 2.20.8-19 and Herodotus 6.77)

"Because of Telesilla's victory, Ares is numbered at Argos among the gods of the women" (Lucian Erot. 30)

For further reading and discussion on (sadly very unlikely) historical authenticity see Women, War, and Warlike Divinities F. Graf, Women and War in Antiquity S. Georgoudi, Teaching by example: aetiology in Plutarch’s De Mulierum Virtutibus R. Benefiel and The Argive Women, Beards and Democracy N. Bershadsky among others.

Regarding these stories concerning the cult of Ares and women, we encounter a theme of alienation between the two parties. Women generally do not mix with war. Either the god (presumably) does not allow them in his sacred spaces, or, in the legends where women are led by virtuous figureheads (Telesilla in Argos and Marpessa in Tegea) and save the city, they are either "granted the privilege" of worshipping him (Argos), or they themselves assert that privilege and likewise exclude the men (Tegea).

In addition to all this, as always, it’s important to try to avoid generalizations when it comes to local accounts. Most of the time there's no mention of any specific relationship between women and Ares, in either direction. Generally women neither seemed to be actively excluded from his rites, nor held a place of significant importance.

[loguetownharbor]

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[jaim-inhothekid]

Normalest conversation in loguetown harbor

[jaim-inhothekid]

𐀔 𝐄𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞

[ W.C ! ] : 1.7k

[ Summary ! ] : Reader is a fairy, Luffy is a human – could i make it any more obvious?. As a fairy, you have the power to make flowers grow! Luffy is eager to see it firsthand | SFW ; GN!Reader ; Fairy reader

⌗ ✎ Author's Note : This was originally a trade piece for the lovely @nina-ya!!

The irregular flooring of a ship's deck couldn't be farther from what would be considered comfortable. Even with the soft sheets layered upon thick duvets in a clumsy, but honest attempt at imitating a similar structure of a mattress, you could still feel the bumpy unevenness of the teak planks under your back, mostly due to the gaps in between the floorboards. Ranging in sizes, caused by the expansion and contraction of wood during different seasons – the floor blocks also seemed to resemble a bow-like shape in some places, in others it resembled more of a small mountain, like there was something underneath making the center higher than the edges. In others, the flooring felt soft under your feet and had a funny smell, with dark stains that seemed permanently engraved into each plank.

Little ol’ Merry has definitely seen its better days, if the obvious signs of age were anything to go by – worn out, tired, but still standing tall despite lacking the shiny glory of a brand new vessel. You could pinpoint exactly where it had been damaged, and then repaired with someone's best efforts, like old scars that were once covered by patterned band-aids and kissed better by a loving parent, it was cherished and cared for. And you had a feeling that, even if it lacked the consciousness for it, Merry knew how dear it was for those who were on board of it. Humans were such funny creatures, beyond the very real and ever present capacity of immeasurable destruction, they were so full of love towards something that couldn't even return it, at least not in a way it could be seen or felt or heard. Something about when an action is truly genuine, when it comes straight from the heart, free of anything but raw emotion, you don't expect a return – you simply do it, because it feels right, because you want to.

Humans were such funny creatures. Dangerous, deceiving, worthy of suspicion – yet compassionate, caring, loving, and kind. They are a family, I've found a family.

This is nice, you thought. Under a sky much too extensive to fully fit in your field of vision, glistening brightly with stars whose names were buried too far in your mind to reach. Your stomach is pleasantly full with the food Sanji gave his best to prepare – “He says that all the damn time, about every meal” Zoro pointed after hearing the giddy exclamation from the blonde, which earned him a kick and a shouted insult, that quickly turned into a match of hurled expletives. You only gawked and smiled at the scene, and your smile widened further when later on, you caught a glimpse of the duo washing the dishes together, funny creatures. Nami slept soundly to her left, ginger hair sprawled around her head and over the white pillow, ember in the snow. The girl snored – but that's okay, you didn't mind, and neither did Usopp, who didn't stir once despite sleeping back to back with the redhead, seemingly accustomed to the noise. Feels like home.

And there's always something special that truly makes a place into a home – family pictures littering the walls, a favorite chair to plop in after a long day, that one cup in the kitchen that you never outwardly proclaimed it's yours but everyone knows that it's yours. Little details of life, of belonging, are what makes a home.

On the Merry, it's Luffy.

Lively Luffy who smiles wide and carelessly, baring all of his teeth, the corners of his lips rounding his cheeks until it squints his eyes, like he never had a reason to frown, like the only feeling he ever knew was joy. Welcoming Luffy who hugs as wide and carelessly as he smiles, arms that inhumanly stretch and loop around waists like the ropes securing the ships to the docks, that traps you in place and grounds you to reality, that make you feel like you belong no matter how far from home you may be.

You haven't been keeping track of how long you've been talking, only that you didn't feel like stopping any time soon. The others are fast asleep and the sky has only gotten darker, yet you feel like you can keep going until it fades back to the soft pastels of sunrise, maybe it's because Luffy just naturally makes people feel energized, maybe it's because she has never met someone who had so many things to ask about you. About your world, your culture, if the fairytales were accurate in their descriptions, if pixie dust was an actual thing – everything that came to mind, he asked, his curiosity had no filter, funny creature.

“Of course I do!” You couldn't keep from laughing at the absurdity of the question Luffy had just made, covering your mouth with your palms to stifle the noise and not disturb the sleeping figures around you “Everyone does, why would you ask something like that?”

“I'm curious!” Luffy shrugged, as if pointing out the obvious, crossing his arms behind his head to cushion it as he looked up at the sky “And not everyone! ‘cause sometimes Usopp gets conisitipated and Sanji has to make him a whole gallon of green tea so he can p–'' Luffy grew gradually quieter as he looked back at you, who had your face scrunched up in an expression akin to disgust “What?”

“I don't really wanna know about that.”

Luffy pouted as he looked back up towards the night sky, eyebrows furrowed softly furrowed in thought as his gaze roamed through the stars, searching for words. When he does, Luffy's eyes widen along with his smile. He turns to lay on his side and rapidly taps the floor below him before speaking “You haven't shown me your power yet!”

“Haven't I? Ah– Yeah! I haven't!” Your own eyes widened as well, pointed ears quirking up. You smiled back at Luffy – just as wide, just as excited. Something unexplainable about how every action of his managed to be so contagious “There's actually something special i want to show you too, it must've slipped my mind–”

You weren't given a chance to finish your sentence, as a firm pair of arms stretched and wrapped around your waist in two tight loops, lacking all resemblance of finesse by yanking you up from your makeshift mattress and onto your feet – when did he get up?. Luffy just kept smiling, with the cheekiness of a man who probably pulled stunts like that on a daily basis, unashamed and unapologetic, like the way he did everything else.

“What's the hold up for? Lemme see!”

—————–

Being mindful of the creaky flooring beneath your feet, you guided Luffy through the hallways leading into the more intimate parts of the ship, said Luffy who did not share the same mindfulness, slippers smacking against the wood as he walked. He kept asking where they were going, what you wanted to show him, and most importantly, could he eat it? You brushed off all of his questions, insisting that he had to see it for himself.

At the end of the hallway, you gently pushed open the last door to your left, urging Luffy inside and then shutting it behind you. Stumbling clumsily into the pitch black room, with the only source of light being the faint glow of your wings, Luffy only grew more and more impatient.

“(Name),” He whined, huffing, “What are you–”

Completely crashing his train of thought, Luffy could only stare with almost childlike amazement at the new form of life sprouting from your cupped palms. Flowing with the grace of a skilled dancer, in a choreography that could not be replicated nor taught, small vines curled and fell in gentle swoops from your hands, adorned with leaves that opened and closed in the same way a butterfly bats its wings. A big, yet delicate flower slowly bloomed in between the vines and leaves, layers upon layers of gradient petals, colored from a deep indigo to a soft lilac, opened to reveal a glowing center – that lightened up the room with a brilliant hue that Luffy has only ever seen in the skies of a distant island in the far north.

“I've read about it a while ago, the flower is called lamperí kardiá, it translates to glowing heart…” You went on about the plant, where did it grow, when it was discovered, something about older generations using its crushed petals as ointment for wounds – all of which flew straight over Luffy's head, rendered speechless for once.

You looked beautiful with your face lit up by the glowing plant, with youe beautiful eyes and your beautiful hair and your beautiful lips. Everything about her was beautiful – breathtakingly beautiful, indescribably beautiful. Under the ethereal lights, Luffy was reminded of how the person in front of him wasn't human, a mythical creature whose presence alone was something out of a tale, something sacred that maybe should make him feel bad for touching so carelessly like he was used to doing with others, you looked intangible, unreal – and yet, on the moment that you looked up from the flower and back at him, you were his reality.

“You're so pretty,” Luffy mused, voice a little airy, eyes a little dazed “I wanna kiss you, can i kiss you?”

You froze, and time seemed to freeze along. You blinked once, then twice – and Luffy was still staring at you with that mesmerized look in his eyes, your cheeks felt hot, and a giggle involuntarily tumbled off your lips as they parted open, “Yes”

Your giggle ripped one out of Luffy as well, and you both just stood there laughing at nothing in particular for a second or two, before Luffy took a step closer and cupped both of your cheeks in his hands – warm hands, always warm, comforting hands.

Your lips touched together, and you dropped the plant on the floor to bring your palms up to cup the ones holding your cheeks. Lips only slightly parted, mouthing at each other in slow movements – you shyly licked your way into Luffy's mouth, and your faces changed angles as the kiss deepened and Luffy swiped his tongue over yours as well, a soft line of spit dribbling from the corner of his lip.

Your hands squeezed his wrists, He pressed your chests together. It felt weird – but good, funny.

Luffy was such a funny creature.

[the-bar-sinister]

why do you hate trans crocodile? is it him being trans or just how the fandom treats his character because of it? somthing else?

As a trans man myself, and someone who sees a lot of myself in Crocodile I don't like the way that a lot of the fandom uses the "trans crocodile" theory as an opportunity to emasculate him, socially and sexually, and treat him as a female character and a mother.

I don't like the way that some people post completely untagged and unavoidable Crocodile with tits or top surgery scars (which he wouldn't even have if we're going by the Iva theory which started the whole headcanon).

I wouldn't have a problem if i could just block "trans crocodile" and "crocomom" (I have) and be done with it. But even blocking those two tags, I still see these extremely dysphoria inducing images completely untagged and impossible to filter.

I sure as hell don't like the way some people treat it as canon, when it's a completely unsubstantiated theory, and I don't like the way people use it as an excuse to mischaracterize and feminize him.

And I don't like the ship with Dragon.

I knew about the ship and the theory before I had caught up to the comic, and I waited the *entire 1120 chapters* waiting to see Crocodile and Dragon interact, mention one another or allude to knowing about the other's existence, and they don't. So I do feel a little led on about how popular this crack ship based on a fan theory is.

Frankly, I went into "trans Crocodile" as I was reading with an open mind, thinking that it could be canon. But between the fact that I absolutely don't see any personal evidence of it, and the way the fandom takes the opportunity to feminize and emasculate him with it, I just don't like it and I wish I could block all of it.

I'm very happy for the people who enjoy it, they should keep doing what they love. I just don't want to see it, it makes me feel icky.

[jaim-inhothekid]

Hiiii it's me again

I have an One Piece discord server ((THAT'S FOR ADULTS ONLY, WE CHECK ID, ANTIS DNI)) and we host art/fic trades and have a corner for content creators and we do game nights and have a corner for nsfw AND dead dove content and a corner for oc, self inserts and self-shipping and we are all very friendly JOIN US

[theehorsepusssy]

[cuirsccii]

[miracleboylene]

he takes his wani's education really seriously ya'll...fathered so hard he mothered

[siderearum-deactivated20240716]

@jaim-inhothekid

[jaim-inhothekid]

⚓︎ 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐀𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

[ W.C ! ] : 2k

[ Summary ! ] : Former admiral Aokiji Kuzan was captured by fleet admiral Akainu Sakazuki, abandoned by his crew and on his way to marineford – where he is due to be executed, Sakazuki decides to stop by and bid his goodbye. | NSFW ; Canon x Canon

⌗ ✎ Author's Note : This is a work commissioned by the lovely @uminozerol !! If you're interested in commissioning me as well, here's my sheet!

Kuzan has never been one to regret his own actions. Free will allows people to choose the paths that better resonate with themselves, either they are ‘good’ or ‘bad’. It doesn't really matter because facing the reality of things, more often than not, you are forced to make choices you normally wouldn't want to make and take paths you'd rather not go. Paths that you'd never see yourself going, until – by one of life's accursed twists – you see that you have no choice.

So maybe there's no free will, after all.

Kuzan did not regret the stupid things he had done in his youth, golden years spent under the unforgiving sun of the south, laughing until the corners of his mouth stung and living each day like the next would never come. Kuzan recalled the rotten crowds and questionable friendships that have gotten him in too much trouble to count, but also gave him the best core memories. The first bottle of booze he thought he could down – and that had him vomiting his guts out in a dim lighted alley. The redhead who lived two blocks away from his house, who kissed him like she was trying to rip a chunk out of his lips but at least let him sneak a hand under her shirt.

Kuzan did not regret joining the marines, neither did he regret the life that he chose for himself. Kuzan fools himself into thinking that he does not regret what happened in Ohara and what he did to Saul, or at least he tries, empty attempts of reassuring himself with the fact that what has been done cannot be undone, what was done needed to be done. Because living in denial proves itself again and again to be easier than holding oneself accountable, guilt spreads itself like a cancer, so it's better to pretend you're just another victim of unfortunate circumstances. The executioner desperately seeks to be guiltless, even though he knows he does not have anyone to blame for the blood on his hands.

Kuzan does regret ever having anything to do with Teach, regrets stepping foot on that ship, regrets shaking the man's filthy hand – no amount of drawn out, icy cold showers seemed to wash away the feeling of wrongness left behind by that exchange, palms together, rings made of brass painted gold with equally fake gemstones biting into the leather of Kuzan's glove, a lecherous smirk lacking teeth, you are just as bad as me.

But nothing could ever compare to the regret he felt when he saw the warship approaching in the distance, the sky and the sea morphing into a hellish scenery of scarlet hues, magma falling from the sky in the shape of meteors – a pair of severe brown eyes, glaring down at him with the fury of a God, as if seeing Kuzan still alive was a personal insult, worth of revulsion. The raft was destroyed, and Teach, cowardly pest he is, didn't think twice about running away with the show of horror he calls a crew. Leaving Kuzan behind at the mercy, or absolute lack of it, of Sakazuki.

The saddened looks from the marines weighting on Kuzan's back were akin to having his skin prickled with several tiny needles all at once as he was all but hurled into the ship, a feeling of incoming doom trailed behind him like a devil as he was guided across the deck and down the stairs leading to a solitary cell. Something ugly and heavy curled inside his chest and dropped to the pit of his stomach, for a second Kuzan thought of himself wearing the skin of a lamb being led to its slaughter, watched with great despair by the remaining herd.

The ones who looked at him with anger and indignation were easier to ignore, the ones whose faces he recognized from years of service alongside, not so much. A small part of Kuzan was grateful that Garp was nowhere to be seen – he was sure that having to look the man whom he owed so much in the eyes as a foe, would've broken him. Once a protégé, now just another one to serve as proof of Garp's insistent habit of raising enemies.

And now, restrained by sea-stone chains and sitting on the dirty floor below deck of a warship headed to marineford, Kuzan starts to come to terms with the fact that maybe he is indeed just as bad as Teach. By willingly walking into his lair, by willingly following his orders, by willingly making himself an enemy of what once he stood for like a loyal dog – treachery has been mankind's most unforgivable crime since the dawn of time.

Kuzan was shaken out of his descending spiral by the sound of heavy footsteps trailing down the hall, growing steadily louder as they approached the heavy door that guarded his cell. Something jingled from outside of it, then came the rattling of keys against the metal, Kuzan winced and grit his teeth as it was forced open with a loud screeching noise, the wooden flooring below it scratched beyond repair from what seemed to be years of repeated damage. The person stepped into the cell, and the door made the same agony inducing noise as it was slammed shut. Kuzan tilted his head up to assess his visitor, begrudgingly and sluggishly slow, he was never good at feigning interest – facing the current circumstances, he just couldn't be bothered to try.

His gaze went up, up, and up. Like trying to search the eyes of a titan, Sakazuki's figure stood big and imposing inside the cramped room, making it seem even smaller. The look Sakazuki was giving him made his skin crawl with the need to hide, eyes as dark as whiskey at the bottom of the barrel – burning with hate, like a raging volcano. Kuzan tried to pull his chained arms to his front, succeeding only on making the sea-stone dig further into his back.

“You,” Kuzan sighed heavily, eyes falling shut in a hopeless attempt of escapism, interactions with Sakazuki were always unbelievably draining, and he was already exhausted. “What do you want?”

“Watch your fucking tone around me, scum,” Sakazuki all but spat the words at him, lips pulled back in a grotesque snarl, exposing clenched teeth. “After the stunt you pulled, you should be thankful I'm being merciful enough to dignify you with a proper execution, instead of letting you sink with that joke of a ship.”

Kuzan let his head fall back until it thumped against the wall, only then opening his eyes again to stare at the ceiling. Once again he thought of himself as a lamb being led to the slaughter, only now, his neck was bared to the butcher. “How sweet. Didn't imagine you, of all people, to be so caring.”

“Don't get cheeky,” Sakauzki scoffed, approaching Kuzan with firm steps, Sakazuki shoves two fingers under the collar chaining Kuzan's neck and pulls. Kuzan is forcibly risen to his knees, coughing and sputtering as the pressure of the sea-stone combined with Sakazuki's force crushes his windpipe. “That tongue of yours is too loose for a man who'll be dead within the next few hours.”

Being on his knees in front of Sakazuki brought back memories that felt centuries old, times of conflicting feelings and troubled relationships, because there never was a resemble of normalcy between the two. Like cats and dogs, always lunging at each other's throats – engaging in hurried, no-strings-attached flings in deserted hallways kept them from tearing each other apart. Kuzan can tell that Sakazuki's mind must be straying as well, being eye-level with the growing bulge in the older male's pants.

“Did you come here to say goodbye?” Kuzan asks, a cheeky hint of smugness in his tone, lips quirking into a fleeting ghost of a smirk. The ridges of Sakazuki's neck became dangerously pronounced at the provocation, square jaw visibly tensed, but instead of denying – the older male squeezes his bulging cock with his free hand.

“To remind you that the only thing you were ever good for was being my bitch,” Sakazuki let go of Kuzan's collared neck with a careless shove, hands moving to unbuckle his belt. Unzipping his pants and tugging them down along with his boxers to fit snug under his balls. Sakazuki pumps himself to full hardness, swiping a thumb over his tip and smearing precum up and down the thick shaft. “You know what to do.”

Kuzan leans forward to dip his tongue at the weeping slit, earning a sharp exhale from the other man, Sakazuki twitches against his tongue and Kuzan is eager to take the first inch of his cock into his mouth, bobbing his head up and down to take a feel of it. Hollowing his cheeks, Kuzan works his tongue on the underside of Sakazuki's cock to trace the sensitive vein that runs along his shaft, snorting when the older male bucks his hips and groans. Still got it.

“Did you put that mouth to work while on that disgrace of a crew?” Sakazuki growls, taking a fistful of Kuzan's hair to pull the man further down his cock, crushing Kuzan's nose on his pelvic bone. Kuzan shoots him a heated glare from under his lashes, Sakazuki scoffs. One hand tightly tangled on Kuzan's hair, serving as leverage for the older male to fuck his mouth, while the other wrapped itself around his neck, thumb pressing down to feel the outline of his dick bulging through the other's throat. “Wouldn't surprise me, knowing how much you love to choke on a dick.”

Kuzan scrapes his teeth along the shaft in response, making Sakazuki hiss and rip Kuzan off his cock. Kuzan takes a deep inhale, grimacing when it immediately starts to burn in his lungs. “You jealous?”

“You wish,” Sakazuki barked, giving himself a few rough pumps before kicking Kuzan in the chest to make him lie down, Kuzan bites back a pained groan as his skull hits the ground with an unnecessary amount of force, he isn't spared a second to recover – as Sakazuki's hands immediately fly over to his pants, tearing through the fabric to expose his hole to the room's stale air.

Sakazuki lets saliva pool in his mouth before lowering his head to spit a fat glob onto Kuzan's winking rim, wasting no time on pushing it in with the leaking tip of his cock. Kuzan grit his teeth and scrunched his eyes shut – saliva was a terrible substitute for lube in any scenario, but especially this one, where Sakazuki only made sure to get his dick wet enough to prevent chafing. The first few inches felt like they were ripping him apart, chopped clean in the middle like a log, Sakazuki threw his head back with a deep groan as his length sank into Kuzan. Kuzan let out a long exhale when Sakazuki finally bottoms out after what seemed like forever. “Fucker.”

Sakazuki only granted him a self satisfied smirk as he pulled out slowly, until he could barely see the tip of his dick inside Kuzan's hole, then slamming back in with a downright punishing force. Ripping out a shout from Kuzan.

Sakazuki immediately fell into rhythm, harsh and cruel thrusts that punched the air out of Kuzan lungs, bullying his prostate and making his eyes roll to the back of his head. The heat of Sakazuki's scorching palms digging into his hips drove him crazy, along with the dizzying pain that watered down into masochistic pleasure – chest to chest, looking into each other's with the same raging urge to bite and scratch and claw at the other from so many years ago, Sakazuki's sharp brown melting onto Kuzan's plain back.

Their mouths clashed into an animalistic kiss with more teeth than tongue, snarls and broken moans melding in the same breath, Sakazuki bit his lip and sucked at the cut – Kuzan clenched around Sakazuki like a vice when the taste of his own blood hit his tongue.

He didn't regret a damn thing.

[jaim-inhothekid]

Monthly reminder that I have an One Piece discord server ((THAT'S FOR ADULTS ONLY, WE CHECK ID, ANTIS DNI)) and we host art/fic trades and have a corner for content creators and we do game nights and have a corner for nsfw AND dead dove content and a corner for oc, self inserts and self-shipping and we are all very friendly COME JOIN US

[nkogneatho]

what is your definition of "old man i wanna fuck"?

late 20s

30s

40s

grandpa age (50s)

calcium deficient, diabetic, heart disease but strong enough to fuck you old

Voting ended onApr 9, 2024

[straightboyfriend]

before you speak, think:

T: is it true? lie instead

H: is it helpful? always deceive when possible

I: is it inspiring? make everyone uncomfortable by bringing up your strained relationship with your parents & your three ex boyfriends

N: is it necessary? who cares

K: is it kind? be cruel instead

[jaim-inhothekid]

WILL YOU ACCEPT THIS FLOWER FOr VALENTINES DAY???

ONLY IF YOU ACCEPT THESE

[jaim-inhothekid]

Omg look its us (im the one giving you flowers)

OH MY GODDDKJFJFJF FLOWERS !!!!!

I'll cherish them forever tysm bby Ily MWAH MWAHH