#but i feel like as one piece continues

[tinukis]

i always tell my friends i dont want to talk about marineford/post war but then i realized thats the arc i talked about most and im just oopsies !! anyway uhh

one piece post war spoilers !!! analyzing luffy's behavior in post war and it's a bit of a heavy topic (suicide implications)

i've said what i wanted to my friends but i wanna see if anyone else thought the same or im just insane

so... when luffy woke up in post war, he immediately ran for it and screamed and cried looking for ace. but he's being haunted by that traumatic moment, akainu's fist through ace's stomach... ace breaking his promise, ace's embrace, ace talking to luffy as much as he can- until his last breath... ace's blood on his hands- "STOP IT!!!!"

it kept flashing in his mind and he's trying his damndest to get it away. by punching or headbutting whatever he sees. jinbe asked law what would happen if they left luffy alone like that:

luffy would die if he was left alone. of course, with ace's request, he couldn't let that happen. so jinbe goes and sees luffy.

after tuckering himself out, luffy is aware that this is reality and not some hellish nightmare. (looking back on the panels hurt so much... it hurts to see our mc broken like this) he belittles himself, he says hes not fit to be pirate king, he's weak, he couldn't protect anyone. he couldn't save his friends and he couldn't save ace. his spirit is broken. he's alone in this world.

thats what he thought at the moment anyway... with nothing left, luffy continues hurting himself. bashing his head against the ground. maybe even until it cracks open because what the hell is luffy even good for now? might as well end it all because he's got no one and he's weak. there's no point in being pirate king if he can't protect the people he loves. and loneliness is so much worse than being in pain.

luffy would go an extra mile, push the limit, to save ace. ace gave him a place to belong when luffy literally had nowhere else to stay. he'd go so far to save his brother even if it meant his own life.

if he can't save ace, he'd want to die. but... ace couldn't let that happen. ace still had to save his little brother. despite going through literal levels of hell to save ace, it was all for nothing.

and god don't get me started how ecstatic luffy was when he set ace free. and that they fought together, back to back. but it all ended within moments.

whether or not he knew he'd die if he kept hurting himself like this, it's much preferable anyway. he wanted to die. he wished to be left alone but when jinbe wouldn't "it's my body!!! i can do what i like!!!" he was intentionally hurting himself. to get those thoughts away even if it meant killing himself.

but again, with ace's request, asking jinbe to look after luffy for him: he couldn't allow luffy to die. let alone kill himself like this. so jinbe had to help and 'repair' luffy's spirit. reminding him of what luffy still had.

after jinbe's speech, luffy began counting on his fingers that were once stained with his brother's blood... and started sobbing when he realized there was still people out there he loved, waiting for him. he wasn't alone in the world. they were still out there alive just like he was. likely in a safe place where no one would hurt them.

luffy remembers he still had his friends, who were also his family.

had ace not ask jinbe to look after luffy and had jinbe not obliging ace's last wish, luffy would have killed himself then. maybe law would have stepped in as he willingly saved his life (and needed him for future reference) but i dont think he'd have much impact as jinbe because jinbe was there imprisoned with ace, listening to his story and how dear luffy is to him.

[artkaninchenbau]

People keep on asking for more Baby Robin and Papadile so here is more Baby Robin and Papadile. Now never ask anything from me ever again

[elalalune]

Buggy in Wonderland AU

An AU where Buggy is Alice and Shanks is the Queen of Hearts/Red Queen

//yan!shanks

• when Buggy was younger he ends up in wonderland and befriends a red haired boy with a straw hat

• years later he thinks it was just his active imagination and forgets about those adventures

• but then he sees a rabbit running around wearing a familiar straw hat

• he follows it down a rabbit hole and ends up in wonderland

• after some adventures and meeting wonderland's residents, he reaches the queen's castle

• the ruler seems friendly but also feels familiar and Buggy isn't sure why

• he's very accomodating — always inviting Buggy to tea parties or extravagant balls, giving him a nice room w a large bed, sending him expensive jewelry and valuable gifts everyday, things like that

• but the more Buggy spends time with him, the more he realizes that Shanks seems intent on keeping him in this world

[otaku553]

Procrastination doodles of sabo for the king sabo au :)

[dittobooty]

Thinking a lot about how in One Piece there's a continuing theme of self sacrifice that often doesn't meet its end (I won't say always because there are some characters who have eaten shit for a cause). But I just think about how easy it would be to just accept their sacrifice but the narrative won't allow that. Robin, Zoro, Sanji, Jinbe, they've all tried to give their life for the sake of others but they can't because they really don't have to. I think about Robin's "I want to live" regularly. It's so easy to die for someone but it's so much harder to live for them. And living for them gives back so much more than dying for them does. Dying is just a moment but living lets you have more moments and more time to show how much you care and lets you do so much for others. I feel like a lot of other shonen show dying as one of the bravest things you can do but One Piece is so different because it shows you that living is actually the bravest thing.

[puppyeared]

Why are ppl scared to call it what it is and say we’re still going thru covid on top of seasonal illness. Like. That’s pretty important right. I was watching the news and they were like oh yeah we have an unprecedented number of flu cases “as well as other sicknesses” without actually saying Covid. No announcement abt vaccinations or masking or anything. Also if I hear someone joking abt “war flashbacks” for mentioning covid I fucking hate u

[humans-are-tasty]

[vellichorsdesire]

announcing you got into a relationship with romantic/queerplatonic f/o to your platonic f/os and they all look at each other before one (or more) sighs, pulls their wallet out of their pocket, and passes the money to another platonic f/o who is either trying so hard not to laugh or absolutely losing it

you just stare at them, dumbfounded.

“…did you just bet on my love life.”

[elv-arts]

(ID in alt text)

Just some doodles of an attempt at a gravity falls transformers au thing.

Notes from my notes app under the read more

Stan + Ford emerged on pre-war cybertron and were originally trained by mentor Fibrick and his assisstant + conjunx Caryn as merchants/factory workers?? Shermie was another trainee who was pretty close to them, but at a different point in training.

They were almost identical. Stanford was created with a "defective" protoform. As a result his hands each have 6 fingers. While they could be replaced, they are otherwise pretty good quality so it would have been a waste of resources.

While the Stan twins were young, they found an old crashed ship and dreamed of fixing it up and ditching their home planet to explore the galaxy.

Ford gets noticed by an actual prominent scientist, who might actually give him a chance to move up in the world if he pulls off his current project. We know how that works out.

Stan gets caught up in shady underground shit + off-world criminal circles trying to figure things out on his own. Once the war started, made enemies with rogue cons. Remained a "neutral" party - enough bots + cons wanted him dead already. Went through so many identities + alt modes.

Ford manages to squeeze his way into a not-so-prestigious school of sciences. He's hard headed and argued pretty well for the benefits of a specific course in his line of work. Meets Fiddleford, a scrap processing bot from off-world in a similar situation, pursuing engineering. Immediately become friends + have eachother's backs. Keep proving themselves again + again, climbing their way into areas of study they were told they'd never touch.

Fiddleford becomes a successful engineer and settles into his new role.

Ford continues his studies, but the war starts and things are really heating up. Eventually heads out to a distant planet with organic life and some weird phenomena to conduct research, and winds up in gravity falls. Fidds leaves his conjunx and apprentice to help Ford as soon as he calls. Understandably they're not pleased given the circumstances.

And the rest is history.

Dipper and Mabel are young and emerged on a recovering post-war cybertron(?). One of their supervisors was mentored by Shermie so heard about Stanford's upward success back in the day. Pulling old favours, sent them to "Stanford" on earth to learn from him for a short while. Thought it would also be a good opportunity for them to see more of the galaxy + gain experience while still having someone keep an eye on them.

[reineyday]

how cute is it that sanji's promo poster has him wearing a ring with zeff's cook pirates jolly roger logo? :') im so soft

[soleilnomoon]

hey miss kaia 😼 I wasn’t sure if I should message you or send it this way butttt I’d love a strawberry-mango mai tai (crocodile or shanks) w/ songs 12, 15, and 23 from the playlist 👩🏾‍💻

hiiiii bb 🥰️ ty for requesting! i am so so sorry this took so long, but it’s here at last. also this was my first time writing crocodile, so i was v excited and wrote more than necessary but lbr i’m a long-winded mfer ok, that’s just how it is there’s no cure unfortunately; anyway i like how it turned out and if i kept writing we’d be here forever ପ(๑•ᴗ•๑)ଓ ♡

2.1k words (don’t look at me), fem reader, nsfw, 18+ mdni; fluff if you count him not choking her as fluff & smut (and angst that u didn’t ask for but i gave it to u bc i’m unwell like that 😊; feat. post-time skip crocodile in denial (he’s king of it clearly), reader who is (rightfully) in her feelings abt everything, smoking, established relationship, exes 2 lovers bc that’s my jam, a lil bit of miscommunication, crocodile is bad at emotions and reader is too emotional — they’re perfect for each other obvy — rough sex, is it considered knife play if he has a hook (asking 4 a friend), a lot of kissing (hello romance), probably other stuff but idr. crocodile comes w. his own damn warning tbqh. reader sippin that clown girl juice like a champ, i’m proud <3

(if u see spelling/grammar mistakes no u didn’t 💕)

it’s late at night when he arrives at your doorstep; you’re in the middle of flipping through a magazine, the ceiling fan silent and slow, the heat a little more than tolerable as you sip a cool drink. you have no intention of entertaining anyone, but when you recognize the heaviness behind the loud knocks, you make an exception.

of course, you do, there’s no other choice but to do so.

sir crocodile is a man that takes, and takes, and takes without remorse; there’s an insatiable greed — hunger, rather — that he can’t seem to satisfy. or maybe it’s that he’s been denying himself for years and it’s finally become too much for him. a small, quiet buzz infiltrates your body when you yank open the door. you half expect to find someone else there, so you stare openly, disbelief and shock holding you in place.

he peers down at you when you stand there and don’t bother to invite him inside. he knows his presence is probably more than you can handle, but he’s a selfish man and his time is very limited right now. with a subtle nod of his head, almost as if he’s telling — no, commanding — you to let him in; he’s always been like that, wordless commands that he expects to be followed without question.

if you had more sense, you’d slam the door in his face. but sadly, you don’t.

you try not to appear too affected, but as crocodile walks inside, dark eyes taking a sweeping glance around your modest living space, you suddenly remember how to speak.

“h-how did you find me?” your voice is much too soft and timid, something he clicks his tongue at, annoyance slightly bubbling underneath his skin. maybe it’s because he hasn’t seen you in so long, or maybe it’s because he’s much too taken by your beauty — something he tried to forget but was wholly unsuccessful.

he doesn’t spare you another glance as he hangs up his coat, doesn’t bother asking for permission before he rummages through the cabinets in your kitchen to pour himself a drink, and doesn’t think anything of his overly familiar actions in a home that doesn’t belong to him when he makes himself comfortable on one of the plush armchairs in the living room.

you scurry after him, steps soft and hurried, the smoke from his cigar wafting towards you the closer you get. he tilts his head back and exhales deeply, eyes closed as he blows smoke above him — a heady, intoxicating scent that triggers memories of the nights you spent with him before.

not that it matters, but crocodile’s nerves got the best of him before he arrived; he hasn’t seen you in two and a half years, and he always wondered if someone finally snatched you up. he told himself, a long time ago, that he would wreck whatever relationship you found yourself in anyway, but the uncertainty still lingered.

do you still care for him like you claimed you always would?

it’s a question he refuses to ask you because he’s convinced that the answer will ruin his plans no matter what your response is.

when you finally snap out of that momentary stupor, you stand in front of him, eyes glossy, as if you’re holding back years’ worth of tears. but somehow, you both fall back into the same routine you swore you’d never go back to — you straddle his lap, shorts riding up your plush thighs, his golden hook cold as he uses it to lift your chin up.

you remind yourself to keep focused, to not fall for his charm again. you don’t tell him that you’ve stayed single this whole time, mostly because everyone who came into your life after him didn’t compare.

“i hate the smell of smoke,” you declare boldly, voice strained, and maybe a little needy — even though you closely press yourself to him, even though you’re shamelessly rubbing yourself against him with slow, deliberate rolls of your hips. an inescapable, irritating heat passes through him, threatening to burn him alive; already his cock gets stiff when you move on him like that. if he had a bit more sense in him, he’d just leave right now.

but old habits die hard, and for some reason, your presence alone throws him off completely.

in a good way. even though he claims otherwise.

he reminds himself that he’s only here to talk as he runs his large hand along your thigh, admiring the smoothness of your skin — the sensation oddly calming to him. the feel of his rings along the back of your thigh triggers a vivid memory that makes you inhale sharply — you remember that the last time you saw him, you were on your knees and gagging on his cock. that night he fucked you like he knew he’d never see you again; you remember how you felt like melting into him every time he buried his cock deeply in your cunt.

you want to hate him all over and never think about him again.

except you can’t, can you?

there’s a brief pause before he takes another drag from his cigar; and when he lets the silence hang for longer than necessary, you find it hard to breathe.

“and i hate liars,” crocodile says finally, conveniently forgetting that he’s a notorious liar himself. you blush and turn your face at the hidden meaning behind his words — a poor attempt to deny it — but when you look back at him, he blows smoke above your head and fixes you with a pointed look.

an absurd thought occurs, making you curl your fingers as you tug on his shirt and finally question his reappearance. jealousy coils itself tightly around your legs, making your movements sluggish and ineffective. unbecoming, utterly childish, and unavoidable — but you know he won’t listen to that sort of rhetoric. not after being away from you for so long.

you lick your lips and muster enough courage to say, “i wrote to you.” several times, in fact. you figured he was either dead or didn’t want to speak to you. a part of him wants to ask if you’re serious, but from your demure demeanor, he already knows the answer.

crocodile lets out a humorless, pitying laugh.

“it must be nice to live in delusion,” he says bitterly. you look at him, confusion evident in the way you press your lips together as your brows slope down slowly — so he just sighs, defeated by your genuine naivety that he finds terribly charming. when he drags the curve of his golden hook along your jaw, your starts beating faster than necessary, the noise so loud you can barely think straight.

he knows that when he talks to you, he has to… mind how he phrases things, and while it annoys him, he does it anyway. “do you think impel down just allows former warlords the luxury of personal mail?” it’s a rhetorical question, but you shake your head no anyway, teeth sinking into your bottom lip as you grab onto his shirt again.

guilt has a nasty habit of making him more considerate than he’d care to be, especially if that guilt comes from you. it has him putting out his cigar and tossing it onto the floor; he’s not sure who kisses who first, but his lips slant against yours and move with familiarity.

your soft whimpers are a honeyed, melodic experience; they wrap around him possessively, driving him to tear through your clothes with his hook, shredding the fabric into large, unusable pieces that languidly slide off your body. a flush settles on your skin, making you feel lightheaded — each kiss more electrifying than the last as he licks inside of your mouth, tongue stroking against yours hotly.

crocodile pulls away suddenly, already feeling like the control he’s kept is practically nonexistent because your mouth is much sweeter than he remembers. your fingers tremble slightly and a breathy moan tumbles out of you when he slaps your ass hard.

the impact is a surprise — one that has you whine pitifully, arousal dripping from your slit in a way that should be embarrassing, but you’re too far gone to care. a lust-induced haze circles around him, nearly clouding his vision as you unbutton his shirt, fingers roaming against his stomach, exploring the dips and grooves between his abs. your touch is much too gentle for a man like him; he knows you deserve better, but he’s too selfish to tell you that. his cock is stiff and heavy in his pants; you relieve that ache as soon as you tug his zipper down and wrap your soft hands around him.

he watches you, amused at your focus and determination when you stroke him faster; and while he’d like to take his time with you, he doesn’t have that luxury tonight. he grabs onto your wrist, halting your movements quickly before biting your lower lip and kissing you greedily; it’s all-consuming, scalding, and possessive.

you should ask him why he’s kissing you like that when he has no intention of staying, but you know it would be an unfair question given his circumstances.

still, your curiosity eats you alive, although not for long.

he lifts you with ease and you sink down onto his thick cock, pussy tight and warm. part of what kept him sane while he was in prison was thinking of you and how much he missed being with you like this — another truth he refuses to reveal, deciding to suffer through the consequences of another failed confession on his part.

you scratch at the skin on the back of his neck the moment he bucks his hips against yours, burying most of his cock inside of you. his thrusts are quick and brutal; you do your best to match his movements, moaning loudly as he wraps an arm around you. he kisses down the length of your neck, teeth grazing your skin roughly as he bites and sucks on your skin harshly. you know there’ll be bruises and marks in the morning, but you don’t care.

all you care about is enjoying this moment with him, one that you’ll commit to memory forever.

his name comes out of your mouth sweetly, like a rhythmic and lyrical poem you crafted for him specifically. he shouldn’t care about any of that, but he can’t stop himself; and maybe he’s just tired of denying it. he tells himself that when he fucks you harder, breasts bouncing and rubbing against his hard chest; he tells himself that when he angles his hips, thrusts frenzied and powerful.

sweat glides down your skin and the heat threatens to suffocate you, both of you are panting and moaning in between kisses. you doubt your poor little heart can take much more of this, but you power through anyway. and maybe it’s because you’re tugging on his hair roughly, almost impatiently, but he takes that as a challenge, holding you steady as his cock bullies into your wet cunt. between the lewd, squelching sounds coming from your pussy and the way he simply can’t stop kissing you — like there’s a thirst he can’t seem to quench, no matter how many times he fucks you — a warmth spreads through your chest.

unbeknownst to you, though, he’s going through something similar; he realizes, belatedly, that he might not be able to let you go after this. impossible thoughts pummel through his mind, ones that he desperately tries to shove aside. intimacy and vulnerability are deadly, in his opinion, but he decides to make an exception for you — and only you.

you cum unexpectedly, hips bucking against his wildly, pussy clenching around his thick girth without remorse. you actually feel your heart skip a beat, like you’re in some romance novel, when he calls out your name — his own orgasm finding him shortly after, thrusts slowing, his cum thick and hot as it spills inside of you.

your legs turn to jelly, making it impossible to move right away, so you slump against him weakly and take deep breaths to calm yourself. he closes his eyes briefly and runs his hand up and down your back; here’s another opportune moment to say something, to say anything, but he swallows back the words, instead opting to kiss your forehead softly.

“you’re an impossible man,” you say with a sigh, blinking as you look up at him; he raises a brow at that, but doesn’t offer a rebuttal. “don’t break my heart.” you jab a finger at his chest, but your features soften when he chuckles at your demand.

another long silence follows, before crocodile speaks again, voice low, but certain as he says, “alright, i won’t.”

[vanillaspicedcrow]

HE SHOULDA FLIPPED J OFF IN THE SHOW!!

[moonpaw]

Fighting DEMONS rn trying not to get invested in one piece to figure out wtf you're posting about!!!!

come here cyber.... we have this thang

‎

[piningpercussionist]

Oh! Fucking. Duh. Obvious Roxie post I can make today: here's an emote I made for the sp:te server! (With variants of different degrees of completion...)

I was gonna go back and shade the comic colors Roxie but. Just ended up going w the colors picked off the screenshot. This screenshot, specifically!

[legendary-guest]

Dr. D gets to dress-up as a cowboy, well, why not cousin Eddie? The look isn't original, he's dressed in Lemmy Kilmister's outfit from Motorhead's album Ace of Spades. Reference and discussion under the cut.

Lemmy is wearing belt and a bandolier, which is ridiculous and I found that challenging to incorporate into Motor Ed's proportions and the general KP style. I ended up omitting both and just stuck with the jacket, omitting tassels on the arm, and spade buttons. No signature KP-era Silver baggy pants as the band are basically wearing vacuum-sealed 70s jeans. The shine on the jacket is there to differentiate it from the rest of the outfit, since it's black on black on black - this took a good portion of my time. I had shine on Drakken's belt in his S1 model in-mind when doing the patterning. I am very lazy with colouring for fan art, so I just used the show's established black, colour-picked, of course. Same with the coloured portion of the line art.

The original sketch didn't have the tongue out with piercing, there was a stray line that looked like the start of something, so I went with it. I don't like this expression for him in his pose/scenario, so I stayed with the smirk. Built the rough clean body to try to figure out the shirt/jacket combination, since that would be very challenging with the layering and tassels.

[crownedwille]

I've come to the conclusion that loving young royals doesn't mean I can't be critical about it, maybe especially bc I love the show so much I have such strong feelings about it, good and bad and I can love parts of canon and agree with it and appreciate it but I don't have to love it all. I have accepted that it's okay if I don't accept the ending and I don't have to force myself to support it. It's okay to not agree with all of canon and it's okay to not side with all of the creators' intentions/views. Loving a show doesn't mean you have to take everything the writers say on face value and that's the only version that is allowed to exist. Canon isn't everything and fandom is about curating your own experience that makes you happy and not miserable. You don't have to dismiss canon in every aspect and ignore it entirely, that's certainly not what I want but there is a fine line between being canon respectful, allowing some parts to exist and sometimes, yes, you just have to say "fuck canon" and move on for your own sanity and wellbeing