#i am aware they are dangerous and named after killed women

[transassdemon]

I saw this dog on tiktok a few times and smh every time i am like. Imagine Ramsay's dogs are like this. Like, when they are not currently chasing you, he points at them like "look at my loyal hounds, these bloodthirsty killers", and ofc they are, but you just see a dog called Jenny who looks at you with this awkward smile.

[lamentingmidna]

i love meruem because of feminism

gonna yap about meruem and how his character comments on a nontraditional portrayal of masculinity.

im doing this for me after seeing these election results

because yeah, he's a shounen protagonist (yes! protagonist! but thats a different yap sesh for another day), he's big and strong and the GOAT or whatever. but consider the key values togashi writes him to have specifically in his relationship with komugi

togashi is has written lust before (leorio trick tower, hisoka...all the time...etc.) , so why doesn't he include that here in the ant arc, something already filled to the brim with a sort of psychosexual horror? i think its a fundamental exclusion to learning about women as people.

(also. how fucking lame that would it be if meruem was just horny instead of being down horrendous)

this near godlike creature is born to kill everyone who tells him no, doesnt see anyone as equals, sees human beings as objects/subjects (contradictory). QUICKLY he switches up when he meets komugi, who he values as an EQUAL because she humbles his ass.

okay, yeah. he does try to kill her. but why? because shes a woman? because shes disabled? because she told him no?

its because shes better than him and he knows it!!!!!

AND THEN all thoughts of killing her are squashed when he understands what her being in danger actually looks like and how that makes him feel. He realizes he doesnt want to live in a world where she and other people like her are not protected! When he realizes he owes her an apology he rips off his own fuckin . ARM. for her!!!!

and i am well aware it is bare minimum to say that he understands she is a person with thoughts, a personality, and feelings, but him asking her name, and Pouf was shocked he even bothered to learn it?!!!! because understanding her as someone who is just as complex as he is is the first fuckin step.

anyway

[mischiefmaker615]

Hard to Get

Promp: He longed for her and was going to find her if it was the last thing he was going to do.

Requester: @catwoman8565

Rating: R *Warning dark*

Loki's POV

The pain in my fingertips remind me I need to ease up clutching Asgard’s balcony as I gaze down at the festivities. It is of nothing new, nor of real importance. It’s a celebration gathering that happens nearly every night after a successful kill or battle than most likely was easily accomplished but most people snag an easy excuse to drink. Not me, there were more important matters to focus on..

Finding her.

My eyes raise and fall closed slowly at the mere thought of her and I could almost smell her perfume. If she were kidnapped, it would have made it all the more easier to locate her and much fun bringing an end to those who thought they could take what is mine.. but she seemed to have fled on her over volition.

I know she is merely in denial of her own feelings towards me, most women tend to play hard to get, in Midgardian terms. I’m fully aware that she misses her home there, but what better place to live than the one you are suppose to be with?

PAST

“you cant just send spies! I can handle myself-‘’

‘’darling.’’ I cut her off, knowing she was going to bring up the fact that she used to be an Avenger- a name that leaves distaste in my mouth as I gaze down before her. Her shorter height was an advantage to take things in control when I speak but often it feels like I was speaking to a child as she looked up at me with stubborn eyes.

‘’you are new to this realm, you could get hurt or lost or worse.. they are there to protect you, given the same duties as they would protecting the royals.’’ I indicate myself as she looks away from me, clutching the balcony’s edge as I look at her while her back faces me. I would admit that my eyes took the chance to travel down but I focus my words on the conversation at hand as I clear my throat. ‘’I don’t like being under protection either, but I serve an important part to Asgard. Some things we just have to accept-‘’

She turned around as her fingers clutched her dress at her sides, not knowing fully what to do with her dainty hands as she took a deep breath to calm herself. Her attitude makes me stiffen as I stay quiet. For now.

‘’I’ve been on Asgard for a month! I have memorized the palace and know the borders of the city, the creatures that would hurt me and the curfew you apparently set up for me to be back in our room.’’ Sarcasm hinted in her voice as she stiffened as well, glancing behind me at the curtains that moved with the gentle breeze of this night in Asgard. ‘’I can take care of myself and the fact that you want me watched, back at a certain time and to report my actions of the day every day is highly unnecessary..’’

At this point I have already made my way over to her while she spoke, her words fading off as her hands grip the balcony edge behind her while I stop just before our shoes could touch. Why couldn’t she understand that I am only trying to protect her.. my hand raises slowly, caressing her cheek but to my dismay, she didn’t return my affections through her eyes.. as if I were touching stone.

‘’I’m doing this for your own good Y/N, you’ve put yourself through danger countless times on Midgard- and you’ve only been here a month, how can I believe you’ll be safer in a place you’ve been in a short amount of time compared to the dangerous place you call home?’’ my words seemed to sting, but it was true.. but her moving her head away from my hand made my body tense.

‘’then why don’t you return me home?’’ she snaps. ‘’if I’m safer in a place I’ve been in longer compared to here, then why did you bring me here if all you’re going to do is fuss over my safety all the time??”

My eyes sharpen at her tone. She could be so ungrateful at times.. but her fire is what I first noticed about her, and I felt myself growing hard even by her words towards me as I shift in place. Yet by my silence, she looks at me and understand,.. understands the fact I’ve been trying to avoid verbally for a long time.

‘’you’re not letting me go back.. are you?’’ she asks in disbelief, her voice just above a whisper as I take a deep breath as my hand raises to caress her cheek once more.

‘’this is your home now Y/N, where we can be together forever.. they won’t let me go back, it’s the only logical explanation as to bring you back here-‘’

‘’and those spies and strict regulations.. aren’t just to keep me safe but to prevent me from.. going home?’’ she whispered and I see her body beginning to tense, her finger tips gripping the edge as her back digs into it but I stand my ground as I cup her cheeks.

‘’for your safety-‘’

‘’its not just about that! I’m basically a prisoner here! you can’t just- force someone to stay, I made the choice to come here but with the option to go back and forth- my family! Friends-‘’she was raging now, I’m not exactly sure why but as she shoved my hands away from her, my jaw tightened.

‘’you were taken for granted, brushed aside, people didn’t see your true worth or appreciate you fully over there love. Here you are loved, appreciated, trusted-‘’

‘’trusted?’’ she scoffed and shoved me, though I take a step back I stare at her in honest disbelief. ‘’you claim to trust me but send spies day in and out? Trust comes with love!’’ she shouted and shoves past me as I turn to watch her walk back into the bedroom. Our bedroom.

My heart was beating fast, my muscles tense and a rage rang in my ears as I followed her, my cape giving a little bit of weight behind me as it flowed but I had no issue keeping up with her as she went through her wardrobe.

‘’what are you doing?’’ I ask, irritation failing to hide itself in my voice as I join her side. She doesn’t even give me the light of day as she pulls out her night cloak.

‘’I need some air.’’

‘’we have the balcony.’’

‘’I need some time alone.’’

My words fell silent. I would have suggested I could take some time in my study just a room away to let her have her time.. but I had a terrible feeling she would be gone longer than I would be comfortable with.. especially when I have another issue at hard as I feel strain in my pants and as I push down my irritation towards this whole conversation, she seems to be more and more beautiful by the minute as she bends down in front of me and change her shoes, her perfect ass that stayed hidden by her silky dress almost teasing me as she turns for better balance and her cleavage was next to be shown. I swallowed thickly, the tips of my fingers tingling before I couldn’t help myself-

It all happened so fast..

The struggle.. the way she bounced on the bed as I pushed her back.. the heat of her underneath me as I lay on top.. her silky skin brushing against mine everywhere it could as I hike up her dress.. my lips on her neck and jawline as her head shook from side to side, her soft hair brushing against my face and her perfume consuming my nostrils.. her words.. I couldn’t hear them.. not a single word.. not while she was so tight around me.. milking my cock as I plunge in and out of her.. she was so beautiful.. so beautiful.. all mine..

By the time I had woken up that morning, she was gone. Gone and without a word or sign of her whereabouts.. I had servants and soldiers searching every day, everywhere, I even had to reveal some of my secret exits out of Asgard just to be sure of her whereabouts.. but as each day passed, the answer was the same.

She was gone.

PRESENT

It was getting close to being an entire week without her and the more I thought, the more I panicked.

‘stay in control’ I told myself, although I knew there was gossip throughout the palace over the whole thing. I had to find her.. I needed too.. my whole world seemed to have shattered and there didn’t seem to be a single thing that mattered anymore except to find her.

I have thought about the fact that perhaps.. if not dead, she had ventured back to Midgard, but even Heimdal brought himself to tell me that he didn’t open the Bifrost within the past week and a half, and do to her disappearance and timing, I believed him.

My lust made me blind, which is why the last night we had together.. my body seemed to take over.. I needed more.. the very thought of her made me calm myself before I took a deep breath and left the balcony finally. Even after al this time, her clothes were just where they were left.. pieces scattered on the bed and floor but I dare not touch them. I would soon smell her wardrobe than cradle the last memories at where she lay last, although I still resume my place at night on the other side of the bed.

I made my way down the halls, my mind visiting the memories we shared from each place I passed. the garden.. the halls in which I loved to chase her.. the dining hall where I took her once when we actually had a meal to ourselves.. the library.. I smiled at the memory how I loved to try to make her squirm and moan in a place in which needed to remain quiet.

I’m hard again. By norms what does she do to me..

I finally reach the cell room, straightening my posture in which that alone had the guards bow and open the doors for me. My shoes echo in a mild pace as I keep my head high, my peripherals taking note of new prisoners and old, each either shying away or cussing in another language, but I ignore the scum. They brought it upon themselves to end up here, it was for the best..

My shoes stop at the last cell, very few guards scattered at each corner but each not daring to stop me. Royals had that privilege and although I’ve done particular things on Midgard that had me returned here permanently, my position in the palace did not change.

With the press of my hand, the shield door vanished enough for me to step inside before it fell back up. Perfume immediately filled my lungs as my body shuddered with pleasure while I stepped slowly to the prisoner who immediately stood to back themselves up to the wall.

‘’shy little thing, how long must it be before you are finally admitting that you love me still?’’ I cooed, hoping my voice would ease things a bit as I take up the remaining space between us to raise my hand and caress the soft cheek that remained like stone.

‘’oh my dearest Y/N.. I’ve searched for your old self every day out there.. but the parts that I did manage to receive still hate me right here..’’ I smile practically to myself as she gripped the sides of her dress, perhaps to prevent herself from striking me like she had once before and her mouth remained close. Perhaps she is finally realizing how her words of negativity won’t help her situation here..

‘’every place I visit, I am reminded of you.. the fond memories and how I long to have them physically put back in a person again.. you..’’ I reminisce as I cup both her cheeks now, feeling her shiver but I just tell myself perhaps she is cold; ill have to bring her more blankets..

‘’perhaps if you’re behavior continues to improve, we can see about having things back to the way they used to be..’’

Theres that look, the hope in her eyes I loved so much that shows me she’s almost ready to be good again.. I tilt her head down and bring my lips to kiss her forehead, my cock straining again as I bring her close into me, folding her as my arms fold around her. She hugs back but not nearly as tightly as she used to grip me.. I’ll have to bring a bit more food then to help regain her strength..

‘’you’re still not missing Midgard darling?’’ I ask, pulling away just enough to see her slowly shake her head, making me smile.

Progress..

‘’I’m glad love, Asgard has always been your home, with me..’’ I whisper, having turned our bodies around before I suddenly shove her away, earning a small gasp from her beautiful lips before she falls back onto the bed behind her, my knee already on the mattress as I begin to crawl towards her frame.

‘’and I will continue to make sure you don’t forget that..’’

[lilydrafts]

Free Palestine

Free Palestine does not imply that I favor Palestine; in fact, I do not support anyone, but I am against the injustice that the people of Palestine are experiencing, and that innocent people are losing their lives. In today's world, there are humans who are living, but the humanity in them is dead. Only a few people have humanity remaining, and it will soon become extinct because of how our society is changing around us. Breaking hearts, watching others suffering, desiring vengeance, betrayal, fake people, violence, and so on are becoming more widespread in our lives, which is dangerous. I don't understand after covid, it appears like all humans humanity has been stripped away since after covid, everyone seems so fake and heartless, which is not healthy for anyone. The war between Israel and Palestine has been going on for days. Children, men, women, and the elderly are all suffering in Palestine. I don't understand why they are even suffering. What did they do to deserve this kind of cruel life they are living now? All they want is a peaceful life. We want money and beauty, but they want safety, which no one can provide. No human being can be denied their rights for safety, but what about them? They are all innocent individuals who are suffering. Every time I browse social media, I come across videos of them pleading with us for donations. However, I am not in a position to make financial contributions, so all I can do is raise awareness. I hope that someone will read this and decide to reblog it, raise awareness, or even give them some money. Whatever you decide to do, God will definitely bless you if you at least try to help them. Note that this is not about countries, religions, territory, etc., it is about us, the humans, who are killing one other in the name of random stuff. Do not forget that you are killing your own sisters and brothers!

[pinkeoni]

Will Byers, Coming of Age, Transformations, Predators, Queerness & Teen Wolf

There’s one part of the “leaks” that sappicjopper put out that really caught my attention—

And as to not look naïve, yes I am highly aware that these “leaks” are likely fake. However, disregarding the legitimacy of this as a “leak,” it is in itself a compelling idea that does have some legs to stand on as a theory.

So awhile ago I made a post about Will’s coming of age story and how that fits into the horror genre, and how exploring coming of age and sexual awakening through the supernatural is a popular trope.

I wanna point out three films I use in my analysis, Ginger Snaps, Jennifer’s Body, and Black Swan. These films have a lot of things in common, but one aspect I want to point out is there use of physical transformation.

These transformations covers an umbrella of different themes depending on the character, but something that all three of them have in common is sexuality. As all of these women become more sexually liberated, and thereby seen as dangerous by those around them, they fall deeper into these physical transformations. (IE Jennifer and Ginger both eating men after they have sex with them)

In my original post I also discuss how this fear of sexuality, or view of sexuality as something monstrous and predatory, is related to queerness. Both Jennifer Check and Nina Sayers are visibly queer characters in both their respective films.

So what? All of this is very speculative, how do I know that Will is going to go through a similar arc, just because I can relate him to a few movies that I like personally? How do I know that the Duffer’s are going to do something similar? Is there reference to a movie within in the show, that features transformation as an allegory for coming of age and queerness?

Actually, there is.

All credits goes to @chirpsythismorning for their deep dive post into the shows use of the film Teen Wolf, which appears in the show as one of Rick Conroy’s recent rentals as well as the poster in the background of a few shots.

(screenshot credits to @chirpsythismorning)

The Freddy Krueger standee, the character who kills people in their dreams whose actor makes a cameo in the show, positioned right over Max’s shoulder should be enough to say that the film references in the background are a lot more than just meaningless references.

Teen Wolf is a 1985 supernatural coming of age movie about a teen named Scott who learns that he is a werewolf.

Within s4 we actually get some parallels between the film and Lucas’ arc— Scott is a basketball player who seeks popularity before embracing who he is and what he really wants. However, I think it’s possible that the film could also be a piece of foreshadowing for Will’s arc in s5.

While Scott is not an explicitly queer character, there is some coding within the film that correlates his lycanthropy with queerness. Remember this is a mainstream teen movie from the 1980’s, if there’s going to be any queerness it’s gonna have to come from subtext, although it is pretty unsubtle.

There’s this very heavy handed scene where Scott confesses to Stiles that he’s a werewolf, and Stiles believes that Scott is coming out to him initially.

There’s also this conversation Scott has with his father that can be read as queer coded.

Or essentially saying, being queer isn’t easy, but it’s not bad either. And then Scott equating his queerness with being a predator, and expects to be hunted as such.

When Scott goes through his first full transformation, it’s right after he played a game of two minutes in heaven with his childhood friend Boof, equating sexuality with his beastlihood.

In s4, there’s a big emphasis on the word predator.

Will’s queerness is an open secret in a town that believed he was “killed by some other queer” and that a group of satanic sodomizers are responsible for murder. I’m willing to bet that that predator label is going to be put onto Will, especially as he begins to come more into his own sexuality.

What would be a literal way to portray this predator title? By having him transform into a predatory creature, just as everyone sees him.

Am I saying Will is going to become a werewolf? Well no, that wouldn’t really make sense with the show. But there is something that may have even been foreshadowed in the show.

How would this transformation even happen? Well, as our “leaker,” or rather, enthusiastic theorist suggests, it has something to do with his connection to the Upside Down, which is progressively leaking more and more into Hawkins. So not a literal zombie, but maybe a zombie like creature that could survive in the Upside Down.

When Vecna was sent through the gate to the UD we saw him go through a physical transformation as he adapted to his environment. This would he a like a speedrun version of that amplified by Will’s own personal connection to the UD (which I believe predates his kidnapping)

It would also serve as a way to highlight the parallels between Vecna and Will, what by having Will physically become similar to him. What better way to show the Vecna/Will mirrors by having Will look in the mirror and see the spitting image of Vecna staring back at him.

Bonus: Scott in Teen Wolf in played by Michael J. Fox, and which character was dressed similarly to a popular Michael J. Fox character in season one?

[junebugwriter]

Trans Awareness, Remembrance, and the Dangers of Existing 

For those who still yet live. 

(Image from GLAAD.)

November 13th – 19th was the annual Transgender Awareness Week, a week that ends in Transgender Day of Remembrance. The Day of Remembrance is a day that is solemn, tragic, and rather sobering. It’s the day we take to remember our transgender siblings who were killed in acts of transphobic hate. It is a day of mourning, of gravity, and many, many tears, because of how truly painful it can be. For me, a newly self-realized trans woman, it’s even more sobering. 

Rewind to about a year ago. I was beginning to acknowledge the enormity of my gender dysphoria after 35 years of denial. It was something I was desperate to avoid at the beginning because I knew. I knew how much the world hates trans people for existing. How dangerous it is to step outside of the boundaries of the fragile social structure that we have encoded into our lives. How brittle and unsafe it can all be for someone who does not conform to the gender that we were assigned at birth.  

I wanted to look away for so very, very long. To not admit the truth of my nature. But the funny thing about the truth is that it just stays there, even if you don’t believe it. And my truth was that I was trans. My new reality was that no matter how far I go in the journey, no matter how well I might “pass” (even though passing isn’t the goal, it’s being authentic to myself), there will always be people who hate me for existing.  

I was unable to write this yesterday, due to obligations, but I wanted to write about it, nonetheless. Some friends of mine were able to hold a ceremony for the lives of our trans siblings who were taken this year. They got to say their names. They got to hold a candle for these brothers and sisters, dear people whose lives ended because someone decided that they shouldn’t exist.  

These are their names. * 

London Price. 

Lisa Love. 

A’nee Johnson. 

Chyna Long. 

YOKO. 

Sherlyn Marjorie.  

Kylie Monali. 

Luis Angel Diaz Castro. 

Thomas “Tom-Tom” Robertson. 

De’Vonnie J’Rae Johnson. 

Jacob Williamson. 

Chanell Perez Ortiz. 

Ashia Davis. 

Banko Brown. 

Rasheeda “Koko Da Doll” Williams. 

Ashley Burton. 

Tasiyah “Siyah” Woodland. 

Tortuguita. 

Cashay B. Henderson. 

Imanitwitaho Zachee. 

Maria Fer. 

Jasmine “Star” Mack. 

Unique Banks. 

Say these names in your heart. Know that theirs was a life that was beautiful and should not have been taken away by a person with hate in their heart and fear in their mind. Recognize the fact that the largest percentage of these victims were black women by far. The oldest one of them was only 41 years old, 5 years older than me. Most were in their twenties. Some were in their teens. All were beautiful. All were born with innate divinity, the same innate divinity that dwells in each of us, the same image of the transcendent God that created all of us.  

Remember them. Feel the weight of them. It’s a heavy load to bear, and much more than the community can stand. We are in an era of rapidly increasing transphobia. There is a concerted effort to mandate us out of existence legally. I honestly am somewhat afraid of coming home for Christmas this year because of my running into the wrong person while trying to spend time with my loved ones. (Then I remember it will be in Austin, and that’s probably as safe as it gets for gender-nonconforming individuals, and I relax, but it’s still by a slim margin.) 

Before the day of remembrance is Trans Awareness Week. What's funny is before the past couple of years, I would rate everyone’s awareness of transgender people as relatively low, until certain lawmakers decided to make it an enormous issue. The truth of it is that trans people have always existed. We’ve always been there. Going back thousands of years, in cultures all over the globe, you will find trans people in history, if you look for them. Even going back, a couple of decades, yeah, things weren’t great for trans people, but mostly it was because people didn’t know what we were. People lived entire lives, not being free to be themselves. Now, we have people trying to educate people so that kids like me might understand more about themselves, and in response to simply new, better information about transgender identities, people react with hatred.  

The thing about transgender people that I’m learning every day is that they are some of the bravest people I know. It takes bravery to ask yourself the hard questions about your identity. It takes bravery to live authentically as you are meant to be.  

I was afraid that I didn’t have it in me to be brave enough to be trans. 

But it doesn’t matter if I’m brave. It matters that I live. It matters that I exist. I’m extremely lucky, and privileged, to be where I am. To have lived the life I have lived is an extraordinary blessing. To have a family that still loves me and supports me is a blessing beyond measure. To have a partner who is willing to support me is an even greater blessing. So many trans kids and adults don’t have that. So many are turned out into a cold world that doesn’t want to make space for them. So many people would rather we did not exist. 

The truth is, we do exist. And no matter how much they can try to legislate us out of existence, there will always be trans people. That’s the truth that cannot be erased or ignored. Just like I couldn’t ignore the truth about my gender identity, we as a people can’t ignore the hatred and violence that is done to trans people all the time. We cannot ignore the concerted effort by a few hateful individuals whose world is so small they cannot appreciate the infinite amount of beauty that trans people give to the world just by our existence.  

I’m writing this because I want to make sure at the very least that I remember my siblings who have gone before me—those who face hatred and violence because of the small-minded hatred of bigots. Our world is so much more beautiful for us living in it.  

May we one day live in a world where we no longer need to remember the lives of those killed because of anti-transgender hatred.  

_________________________________________________ 

*Names retrieved from https://glaad.org/tdor-memoriam/. 

[papihomo]

I fucking wish I never has to write this, I wish that I never had to even feel this way to begin with but I know for a fact that I will NEVER be the same.

My name's Lucifer, I also go by Emmanuel, and I go by any & all pronouns.

I am 16 years old, and at the risk of sounding over the top, honestly, I dont even care anymore at this point. Everything feels like a never ending nightmare since October.

I am a Rwby & Madoka fan. These shows were responsible for helping me find my voice, to break away from cycles of abuse and become the strong individual I am today.

The reason why I bring this up, is how I specifically as a Jew, who has friends in Israel, Lebanon & Palestine WHO JUST WANT TO FUCKING LIVE has been alienated, pushed aside and harassed in the very communities that I took refuge in.

This is a problem.

I remember the myriad of "friends" I had, who showered me with love and affection that all meant nothing in the end

I exactly remember back when I asked them what their thoughts on me cosplaying Cinder Fall would be around mid-October, and I had hoped that they would be who they were before.

But all I got, was animosity

They called me a "Satan Worshipper", "A Baby Killer", they accused me of being sensitive when I told them that what they were doing was antisemitism right after they threw the k slur at me.

Then, they blocked me, the fucking icing on the cake.

More and more friends, dropping like flies each and every day

All for a government that I have no control over.

They called themselves anti racists, and yet they called me slurs and spread blood libel about me.

How is this normal? HOW IS THIS FUCKING NORMAL!?

I had this fucking belief that without my so called friends I'd be nothing but at this point whats there to lose?

As one of my friends fled to a shelter and I lost sleep for him in fears that he might die, they, my so called "mutuals" cheered for his demise because he was Israeli, and then they cheered for mine.

I was later accused of double loyalty, of being a spy, a spy when I am just a mere student who cannot even drive yet let alone doesnt even have a credit card or bank account who wishes they didnt have to write some of their fucking experiences down on a website that used to bring them immense comfort!

This all brings me back, back to when the boys in my 8th grade class jokingly said I'd commit pearl harbor on a building downtown

When I was asked about Nanking for days

When they said the concentration camps were justified

And now that I, have gotten "worse" for converting to Judaism because now I am not just a "Evil Japanese Imperialist Sellout" but now I am also a "Cold hearted murderous child killing animal"

I am well aware that I sound already all over the place, but tell me

How does it feel after making little headcanons about characters being Jewish, posting about punching nazis, talking about J.K flopling's antisemitic blood libel game

Only to propagate these exact same things! You can criticize Israel's government without being a racist POS AND IT ISNT THAT HARD.

How does it feel after watching Kimetsu No Yaiba, listening to Vocaloid and playing Animal Crossing?

Only for you to go up to random Japanese people asking them, "What do you think about Nanking/Comfort Women?" Or "The bombs were necessary", claiming any song with Shinto or strong cultural undertones "Supporting Japanese Imperialism" and claiming that every aspect of Japanese culture is "stolen" despite that being untrue and that the reason why Japanese media is so popular is to "distract from war crimes"? You sound just like the people who stuck us in the camps after Pearl Harbor and suspected we "conspired with the government", you know that, right?

How will I ever feel going to a convention in 2024 and beyond? Will they shout at me, claiming me to be a threat? An animal? A danger to society?

How did it go from my friends going: "You look like Cinder Fall. You totally should cosplay as her" to legit spouting immature, hateful shit that would practically sound like "You disgusting putrid whore, how dare you even THINK about cosplaying such a character? She would NEVER be one of your impure, hideous, wretched, accursed kind. The fandom needs less of you, and yes my bestie is Jewish so I can call you every single slur and accuse you of blood libel too XO XO UwU Cinder can't be like you, because I said so, live laugh love bitch teehee"

Because now it feels like the place where I thought I belonged, stabbed me in the back

The people I thought I could trust turned on me as I mourned and spouted hatred my way.

I could go on and on on what else I had endured but that would leave this post longer than it was in the first place.

Think critically, love yourselves, just try and make the world less hateful instead of propagating it, and maybe you should learn that people aren't their governments.

[killed-by-choice]

“Katherine Roe” of Dartmouth, 38 (UK 1968)

The UK passed the Abortion Act in 1967 and it came fully into effect on April 27, 1968. This had catastrophic consequences for unborn children and their mothers. Doctors slammed the act, warning people that the public was not fully informed of the danger of legal abortion and that the Act was poorly worded and allowed for very loose interpretation of the circumstances outlined.

Sure enough, women were killed by the newly available abortions. Research showed that the Act did not reduce maternal mortality or the abortion rate. The British Medical Journal soon documented the deaths of a 38-year-old woman and her baby. No name was listed for the woman, so I am calling her Katherine Roe.

Katherine was 38 and married. She was a homemaker living in Dartmouth, Kent. Just after the Abortion Act came into full effect, she underwent an abortion that she was told would be “safe and legal”. The fatal abortion would not have happened without the Act.

Katherine had already had two babies and had gained weight since her last delivery. She was obese when she spoke to her general practitioner, Dr. James Morris, to request an abortion. “Mental health” and “social reasons” had been cited as the reason for the abortion request, although abortion is linked to worse mental health outcomes than live birth. The vague definitions included in the Act apparently approved these excuses as a legally valid reason for an abortion. Katherine was directed to a consultant obstetrician, A.W. Chester, whose assistant was the abortionist.

At about 18 weeks pregnant, Katherine underwent the abortion at West Hill Hospital in Dartmouth. She died around the same time as her baby.

Dr. James Cameron, senior lecturer in forensic medicine at the London Hospital Medical College, performed an autopsy on Katherine’s body and identified an embolism as the cause of death.

An inquest was held on June 21, 1968 and the coroner agreed with Katherine’s doctor that “the Act was not easy to interpret and the public was not aware of the risk involved in such an operation.” He criticized the Act for “placing difficulties in the way of the medical profession.”

It was ruled that there had been no breach of the law and that the abortion “had been conducted in a thoroughly competent manner.” But even with competence, abortion was still dangerous and killed clients even when done according to legal standards. The ruling was likely not much comfort for Katherine’s widower and two surviving children.

[bagilgulhaze]

No lmao. Hamas IS targeting civilians. Plain and simple. Which is arguably a valid form of resistance when your civilians keep dying anyway, for decades, and attacking military bases is not an option.

But Hamas is targeting civilians, as a tactic, always had, and now succeeds. I am more extremist inclined, apparently, than most of my surroundings right now, as I don't see it as my place as an oppressor to condemn Hammas behavior as if it is my resistance to condemn, as if we didn't torture, abuse, abduct and kill in cruel manners, in my name, in needless ways. But do not pretend it is not what's happening, because children women and men, not as collateral damage, but direct targets, are being raped, mutilated, killed in their homes, abducted. 3 yo 12 yo 70 yo, teens, young adults, no limits. This is a direct attack on civilians it is just the facts.

Now I do not want to describe with horrifying details what is done to innocent civilians, and maybe this is our curse, that after years of occupation we should all be damned to this fear and horror that was imposed in our names on an entire population, I wish it wasn't but nobody's asking me. Just don't lie about it, I refrain from elaborating, as I hate that when people demand that I condemn hammas as a radical leftist they start detailing all the horribly cruel violence that is imposed on my people as if I am not aware of it, as if being leftist makes me any less related to them, any less in danger or any less able to feel their pain. I emphasize palestinian pain because it is silenced. Doing this to me about my people is unnecessary.

But it seems you don't know, and honestly as someone that continues to hold radical opinions as women's bodies are paraded naked in the streets finding out I am alone and people change their perspective when such horrors happen, when I always knew this is a likely outcome of stopping the Israeli occupation now after decades and disbanding the army and still held this opinions, makes me feel even more alone when you lie about this in order to continue and hold radical left opinions.

This is the truth, which does not surprise me. and it is a very, very dark hour, regardless of outcomes, as innocent people (not settlers or soldiers) are hurt badly in the hundreds. So please don't lie, you can continue standing with palestinian resistance and talk about the context which brought us to this state, the years of oppression and occupation with no way out- without dismissing the horrors.

[coochiequeens]

“Remember my face,” Sii-am Hamilton told the crowd gathered on Finnieston Street near the high fencing that surrounds the Cop26 summit on Tuesday morning. “Remember because it’s not if, it’s when you will go missing, if you are involved in land rights.”

The rally for murdered and missing indigenous women, girls and two-spirit people heard a painful litany of lost loved ones from witnesses from Alaska to the Amazon, and the legacy of their absence for families and communities.

“Say their names,” said Delee Nikal, a Wet’suwet’en activist. “Do not forgot our sisters who have been stolen.” Like her fellow speakers, she was explicit: “The femicide is directly linked to the ecocide … there needs to be more awareness that these extractive industries, all that is affecting our climate and destroying our territories, is intertwined with violence against our women and girls.”

In Canada, Indigenous women and girls are targeted for violence more than any other group, and are 12 times more likely to go missing or be killed. In the US, the justice department found that Native American women faced murder rates more than 10 times the national average.

But this abuse does not happen free of context: in 2019, Canada’s national inquiry into missing and murdered Indigenous women and girls accepted the link between “boomtown” and “man camp” environments that emerged around resource extraction projects and violence against Indigenous women and girls, as well as increased sex industry activities in those areas.

And still this has yet to translate into genuine recognition by the leaders at the UN summit or indeed the wider environmental movement, Hamilton, from British Columbia, said after the rally. “At larger international events like this one and even at home, I don’t think that people understand just how dangerous the lives of Indigenous women have gotten. Our conversations shift towards catchy phrases like ‘net zero’ or ‘1.5’, which don’t represent just how violent the experience of growing up in an extractive world has become.”

The fear Hamilton expressed at the rally was, she said, “really natural”. Over the past year she has been involved in direct activism at Fairy Creek, protesting against the logging of old-growth forest in southern Vancouver Island. “And this year alone I’ve watched so much violence, towards specifically young Indigenous women and girls, at the hands of the police. I’ve watched so many people have their bones broken, their hair ripped out, their eyes gouged.”

She said articulating and sharing these struggles with women from different countries and communities could be at once reassuring and devastating. “It makes you feel less isolated when you’re meeting so many other people who are experiencing similar forms of violence. No matter what kind of extractive industry is attacking a community, it has same rippling effect on women.”

She added: “It makes you feel less lonely, but at the same time it creates this different type of rage that I really can’t describe – knowing that there are so many women missing, it’s not just in Canada, and it’s not just in Mexico, it’s all over the world. Wherever you find people that are struggling for the land, you will find missing women.”

[thesolferino]

Blood Red

⤷ knight!dream x assassin!fem!reader.

— summary: technoblade hires you to kill sir dream at king george’s ball while he’s off duty; sir dream wants a dance with the peculiar lady wearing a peculiar gown.

A red gown flashes past the sea of white and baby pink ones in a dazzling fashion, one of a Duchess or a Countess, surely not of a simple lady, but it flies by quick, so quick that you simply don’t get to catch the face that matches it. Quick enough that it leaves you stunned, slow enough for a knight’s eagle eye to spot.

The red is dark, darker than the simple scarlet red that the women wore on top of their buns or at the ends of their braids in the form of carefully tied bows. It’s dark, a dark maroon red, walking the line between uncomfortably red and obviously brown finely, careful not to cross each side. It’s an unsettling red, which makes it even more intriguing, especially to a knight - a knight who dances, off-duty, but fails to keep his eyes on the Dame in front of him, and he’s sure it might’ve gotten him in trouble if the porcelain mask hadn’t stayed stapled on his face, shielding his eyes from betraying him.

The red is outstanding, eccentric amongst all the pale, and the knight isn’t the only one who steals a look - the red was noteworthy, among the rest, and wasn’t that what a killer like yourself was made to avoid? Getting seen, getting noticed? Being the center of attention was for the masterminds, after all, not the ones who get their hands dirty; somebody might catch them staining.

It was a bad idea, the ones in charge had said many times before, but you always wore red to the job. They always dumbly ask why, you always repeat the answer. The blood would become invisible, you said. It was as if nothing had happened, at all.

That’s why your maroon flashed amongst the sea of ivory and lavender unapologetically, beautifully shining against the blush pink tiles, matching red heels clacking in obedience with your footsteps, feet moving lightly, gracefully, as if made for such a setting.

And when the song decrescendoed into silence and the violins started moving in a different pattern, the knight callously let go of the Dame’s hand and his feet carried him to where his eyes remained fastened on for hours, pale hand outstretching to your own, finally getting to see your face for the first time in the evening.

The red was too much for a Lady, and that’s why he knew exactly who you were. Maybe not by name, or by age, but profession and motivation were a strong guess. He’d been waiting for this moment - might as well make the most of it.

“May I have this dance, miss?” He spoke, hand still hovering in the air calmly, as she stared dead into the mask, right where she could imagine his eyes were. The stare gave him the answer to an already solved question - your gaze gave away absolutely nothing, and that’s what made him sure of it all. You’re good at your job, he supposes.

Beats of silence pass as couples sway behind you, some more gracefully so than others. You set your hand in his, lightly, carefully, so timidly it almost made him rethink it all. How could such a hand commit such vile things?

“Alright.” You spoke in return, placing your hand behind his shoulder, touch still as soft as before before slipping your other hand in his, not letting your fingers intertwine the way he may have wanted them to. He placed his arm on your back, just below your armpit, beginning to dance and move towards the center of the ballroom.

“From what I’ve observed, you seem to be a good dancer.” He mused, stretching his hand to let you spin, gown flapping around as you did, and he could’ve sworn it might’ve left trails of stardust on the floor everywhere you stepped. You smiled, in a way that screamed at him to escape, but his hand stayed glued to yours, moving further.

“I know a couple of things here and there.”

“How come? Excuse me if I am being intrusive, but I have not seen you at many balls. At least not the ones I attend.” He knew exactly why this specific ball was the one she attended, and the whole conversation inevitably leads to the answer he’s already aware of - he just wants to see how good of a liar you are, though.

“This is my first time here. I’m not a woman of some importance.” You replied, charm beaming off you like rays of light off the sun, and Dream could almost feel his legs tripping after the very hem of your dress. He’s playing with fire, and he knows it, but he just can’t help himself and pour heaps of gasoline. He’s always been like that, and perhaps George hates him for it, but George doesn’t matter anymore - he doesn’t exist as long as he doesn’t look at him. He’s off duty, and if he wants to play with the fire that lights just to burn him, then he shall do exactly that.

��Oh, believe me, you are of utmost importance if I’ve ever seen some.” He says, and you reply with nothing, simply spinning another time under his arm that holds yours firmly. He takes it as an invitation to spark some panic in you.

“Besides, the color of your dress would suggest otherwise. How come a simple lady’s wearing such kitsch cloth?” Dream points out when the two of you move a bit farther back, led by you, and he’s just about impressed at how well you are at suppressing all of this, especially when you let out a perfectly timed, airy chuckle in response, not a single flash of fear or danger in your eyes. It’s the first time that night that he’s actually felt like prey. Techno taught you well, didn’t he?

“I don’t think you’re one to speak on that, Sir Dream.” you respond, eyes flashing from the collar of his basil green suit to the nicely paired olive points of his shoes, back to the hollow eyes of the mask with a mischievous glint in your eye. He exhales a laugh.

“The color is pretty, isn’t it? Aren’t simple ladies allowed to feel like Duchesses every once in a while?” you continue, pulling the two of you mere centimeters closer, enough for any of the passing guests not to spare a single look, and enough for him to notice what you’re doing. He can almost feel a bead of sweat breaking out on the back of his neck. Maybe he’s more scared of death than he thought.

“I don’t think you’re a simple lady.” He professed, following your lead. You were pulling him dangerously close to the south side, where the balcony stood. You were impressingly good at this. “Simple ladies don’t have knives strapped to their thigh.”

He waited for a slip up, and he got none. Not a single hitch in your breathing, a stutter of your tongue - your lips, marked with a red lipstick that suddenly looked a lot like smeared blood even though it wasn’t, simply stretched into another coy smile. You say nothing, simply keep dancing, feet moving in a little bit of a different direction now, as to delay the operation, and he likes to think that’s enough of a slip up.

“Are you scared of death, Sir Dream?” Violins stammer in staccatos behind him, an awful representation of the tension he knows both of you feel, yet not a single other soul in the room can behold. The back of his neck grows warmer, and maybe it’s fondness, maybe lust, or maybe danger and that known feeling of being the prey in this situation, that he taps in with one foot, the other safely yet artificially placed on predator territory, because he refuses to admit he’s no longer the one with the upper hand, and his leg has lifted off predator land long, long ago.

“My death will be nothing more than a false victory to you.” He offers instead of an answer, hips swaying to the music and steals a glance at the rest of the couples dancing. It’s such an airy atmosphere, so calm, casual yet fancy, elegant. Gowns fly around and snake around naked ankles, but none of them are as pretty as yours. Dream refuses to think about the way his blood would look soaking it, and that’s when it clicks. You’re not so dumb, after all.

“I suppose it will, but your murder will be a true one.” you say, and your feet are tapping on the tiles a few feet too close to the balcony. Dream feels crazy, still dancing like this. He feels crazy, and maybe he should ask for help, scream, but he doesn’t. He dances on, dancing until either the stars or you take him.

“Will you feel alive if I take it off? Will he be more satisfied?” His head moves comically, just to bring attention to the mask that feels so unbelievably tight and suffocating, the strings pressing to the back of his head, threatening to snap. He wants them to snap so badly.

“It’s too late for me to feel alive now. I’ve been dead for years, and I’ll stay that way. Whatever you want, though, honey.” Your voice feels more like music than the actual musing of the fuse of piano and strings in his ears, and he still feels crazy. He feels high on something he’s never known. You haven’t killed him yet - maybe you’re high as well.

“I can bring people back to life.” He replies simply, six simple words that are nothing more than conversation fuel, but they hold so much meaning that he can’t miss the glint in your eyes. Your step falters for a second, but the knight’s eagle eye never misses.

“You don’t want me alive, you want yourself alive.” You whisper, heels clacking louder and louder now. Dream is convinced he’s going insane, but his feet move at their own accord, of their own body and soul.

“I want both of us.”

“Only one gets to stay.” You say, and it doesn’t make his blood go cold like he expects it to. It’s sort of depressing to know that his heart accepted his morality so quickly, much quicker than his stubborn brain.

“I don’t think you want me to go, though.” It’s one hell of a ballsy move, but when you press your lips together, he knows he’s done it. Unsure how, but happy he did, nonetheless.

“I’m quite unsure of what I want, I must say. Sir Technoblade does, though.” You spit his name out, and it forces an unwilling laugh out of Dream.

“Be careful, it’s death you’re dancing with.” You say, gaze as fiery as ever, reflecting the blood of your dress and the blinding lights of the chandelier that light your eyes on fire. He returns the gaze just the same.

“May I get one last dance with Death, then, before she makes up her mind?” The knight cheekily smiles, even though you can’t see it, but he’s sure you feel it. Your hand manages to go warmer in his own when you grip it tighter, and he thinks he’s got his answer.

“You know what? Death’s a pretty good dancer, but so are you. She’ll allow it.”

[waynedunlaptheorgandonor]

watched s11ep1

i will provide you with a quick review before i disappear back into the ether of twd avoidance

lots of spoilers under the cut. also i wrote way too much and i worked all night and haven’t slept so i didn’t bother to reread literally any of it, so it might be completely nonsensical, tho if you don’t expect that from me by this point idk whose blog you’ve been reading

enjoy:

hokay, first off, i’ll start by saying that i enjoyed it more than i expected to. i’ve been avoiding any sort of discussion about stuff, but my google algorithm is so fucked at this point that i still get recommended articles and stuff every now and then, so i was already pretty aware of what i was walking into, and was expecting it to be eh, but actually i prob enjoyed it more than i enjoyed the finale

(don’t get too excited tho, the finale was rly boring lmfao)

anyway

episode starts off with a tense scouting mission

it takes .005 seconds into the episode for caryl to exchange a look of longing, establishing that they are still having weird conflict and are both too fucking stubborn to do anything about it even tho they hate it desperately

i imagine that will continue for a while

rosita, kelly, carol, maggie, what’s her face with the bad hair, and lydia (i think that’s everyone?) lower down to some army bunker or something, where a bunch of walkers are taking a snooze, and the girls are very respectful of walker naptime, and do their best not to wake them up

obviously they eventually wake up, but i’ll get to that in a sec

as they’re tiptoeing through the walker tulips, there’s this split second where carol spots a machine gun, and looks at maggie with a face like, “can i plzzzz, i am mad horny for that machine gun,” but maggie tells her no. (i 110% expected her to defy orders and accidentally wake up all the walkers, but she actually behaved herself for once. well. mostly)

never fear, tho, after the girl gang collects a bunch of MREs they go back to wait for the dudes waiting up top to pull them up, and bc men ruin everything, one of the ropes break, and daryl catches it before it falls, but then a slow motion drop of blood falls on a walker’s face, and just like that, walker naptime is over, and carol uses her bow and arrow for two seconds before she is like “fuck this” and whips out the machine gun

yes, she is super hot using it

yes, daryl watches her do it

anyway, all the other girls get rescued, and carol is about to be pulled up, but bc she is a #girlboss, she first makes a beeline for one more crate full of MREs. daryl covers her while she gets the loot, and when she gets back up top they have another charged moment as carol hands him back his knife

just fuck already, jfc

titles!

cut to alexandria where everything is still not smilestimes

BUT, we do get to see uncle daryl run and hug rj and judith (and dog), and FUCKING HERSHEL JR, LIGHT OF MY LIFE is also there

istg, they could not have casted a better child, i a d o r e him

oh, and some friends of maggie’s show up too, idk

cut to a staff meeting where everyone is like, whomp whomp, we’re all gonna starve to death unless we figure out something quick

cue maggie going, “oh, i know where food is, but it requires me to tell you my tragic backstory, in case anyone didn’t watch my bottle episode”

she tells her dramatic backstory about all her friends getting slaughtered by the reapers for no apparent reason, and then she’s like “anyway, let’s go back there!”

no one thinks it’s a great idea, but a group of people decide to go anyway, including daryl and gabriel. rosita is super pissed that gabriel is going, and carol doesn’t go, probably partly bc it’s a shitty fucking idea, and also bc they have to keep caryl apart bc otherwise they’ll fix their problems ahead of schedule and they won’t be able to drag out the needless angst

daryl looks kind of annoyed that carol doesn’t volunteer to go 

bitch, i thought you wanted her to stop putting herself in the line of fire! make up your damn mind!

moving on

cut to a thunderstorm, where, if you look closely, you’ll notice daryl is wearing the STUPIDEST hat i’ve ever seen. just get an umbrella, jfc

for some reason negan is with them, bc ig he knows his way around washington dc, and no one in six years has bothered to figure out how to get around the city and/or get a map, and he is like “hey guys, maybe we shouldn’t try to walk in this fucking hurricane,” and everyone is like “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” 

this will be a common occurrence 

but eventually daryl is even like “actually, it’s rly unpleasant out here, and my hat is mad stupid, can we go inside plz?”

so they go inside an old metro station, which is actually a rly cool cinematic choice. i rly like the idea, and they executed it rly well

speaking of executions

there are some fucking RULL CREEPY walkers. idk why they bothered me so badly, but they were what they at first assumed were corpses wrapped up in tarps, but turns out none of them had been properly put down, so they go through killing these rotted bodies that had supposedly been there since The Fall, and it’s very gross and cool

this entire time, btw, negan is like “hey, i know i’m a shitty person, but i have some rational arguments about why we shouldn’t be doing this right now,” and everyone is like, “FUCK YOU NEGAN, YOU’RE NOT THE BOSS OF US!!!” and he’s just like “god fucking damnit”

(i forgot to mention that at one point, when they’re headed into the metro station, negan is trying to warn ppl of the potential danger, and everyone is ignoring him, and he tries to talk to daryl, and daryl is like “fuck you, you think we’re BUDDIES?” and negan is like “oh, ok, so you’re gonna be like that too? fanfreakingtastic” and it’s very funny)

anyway. a fat monster zombie escapes its tarp at one point, and tries to eat some npc, and negan saves him, again is like “hey, anyone else realize that this is a FUCKING BAD PLAN?”, and everyone is like “we don’t care, you’re still shitty and we’re not listening to you, and you don’t actually care about random npc i would literally not be able to pick out in a lineup bc his face is so generic, you’re not the boss of us!!!”

it’s at this point that negan finally is like, “why am i even here? bc i know how to get around washington dc? do none of you have a map?” and i was like, “right?! that’s what i said!” 

it’s then revealed that maggie only brought negan along to murder him under the guise of “oops, he got hurt in the line of duty, it wasn’t my fault,” and daryl has this look on his face that says, “i seriously need to stop hanging out with lethal women bent on revenge bc it’s gonna give me high blood pressure,” and maggie has a badass moment where she points a gun she has for some reason at negan and is like “i have like, one shred of human compassion left inside of me, and if you keep pushing me i will fucking kill you without a second thought, so shut the hell up”

(in her defense, negan had just dropped glenn’s name to purposely antagonize her, which was rude as hell)

(for the record, i’m completely on maggie’s side here, but negan still is right that trapping themselves in a metro station is a bad call)

anyway, moving away from that briefly

i think this jump cut happens sooner, i don’t actually remember, but whatever who cares, point is, we get to the part of the show that actually matters, and that’s anything involving my love, juanita “princess” sanchez

and also eugene, yumiko, and ezekiel

they are being asked increasingly invasive questions by commonwealth ppl, some of which i wish they actually would of answered (what do they use to wipe their asses with?? surely toilet paper has long since become extinct)

zeke, who is so much more tolerable as a character now that he’s not larping as a king, has this incredibly weird and sort of sexually charged moment with a dude in an orange stormtrooper costume, where he’s like, “i bet you were an asshole cop back before The Fall, you stupid fascist, #fuckthepolice, mb literally? idk, this moment has a lot of pent up aggression that could easily translate to hate sex, it might just be the intense eye contact, but w/e, let’s just move along,” and then he has a coughing fit to remind the audience that he’s currently dying of cancer, and orange stormtrooper is like “lolz, loser, drink some water you dumb piece of shit”

cut to the wholesome foursome sitting at a picnic table in a guarded courtyard eating gruel, and yumkio, who finally has a personality, and princess are like “hey, this place fucking sucks, can we leave?” and zeke is like, “yeah, i met this orange stormtrooper who i think might be dtf and/or murder, so we should probably bounce”

but eugene is like, “but i want some hot stephanie ass, and also some bullshit excuse about how mb commonewealth will save alexandria” which, they left before things went super downhill, right? idr. it was after hilltop fell, but they don’t know alexandria got fucked either, if i recall? w/e, not important

two seconds after he says this, they talk to some people who are like “we’ve been here for four months, or maybe it’s been nine, i don’t actually remember, i’ve stopped processing the passage of time,” and the wholesome foursome takes this as a bad sign, tho that’s just the life i’ve lived as a night worker during a pandemic, so i was like #mood

but then they watch some guy get dragged away screaming to get “reprocessed” and eugene is like “ok, nvm, let’s bounce”

(my theory on what “reprocessing” is, is that they’re stuck in a room and have to watch hours and hours of customer service training videos on vhs from the 90s)

i definitely got my jump cut scenes mixed up bc i think the negan accusing maggie of a murder plot thing happened in between this scene and then the next commonwealth scene, but w/e, i’ll just finish what happens in the commonwealth arch

the wholesome foursome are trying to hatch a plan to escape, except princess, my love, is distracted watching some stormtroopers flirt, and the other three are like “wtf, dude, how can you even tell any of them apart?” and princess then tells them every stormtroopers backstory bc she is brilliant and pays rly close attention to shit, and the other three are like, “this is useful information, thank you for being an insane person”

their plan involves yumiko and eugene dressing up as stormtroopers and leading princess and zeke out of the place, which works fine actually, except on their way out they come across the Depressing Wall of Probably Mostly Dead Missing Loved Ones

they’re about to leave, when princess is like, “wait, yumiko, you’re on here, that’s weird huh?”

sure enough, yumiko  is on the wall, with a note from ig her sister 

the scene ends with yumiko going, “guys...i can’t leave...i have tragic backstory to unveil”

tragic backstory to be continued ig

back in murder metro town, npc and some other npc have stolen all the supplies, there’s a train blocking the track, and a horde of walkers are coming towards them, so things are not going fantastic

they horde is too big to take down, so they start to climb on top of the train car to get away

but dog runs away!

and daryl, being every pet owner ever, is like “gotta go get my dog, guys, try not to get killed while i’m gone, c u soon!” and he ducks under the train and disappears

#priorities

the episode ends with maggie climbing up the train car but getting grabbed by a walker and dangling off the edge, and negan is there and they have a lion king moment where maggie is like, “scar! help me!” and negan is like “long live the king, bitch” and walks away into the shadows, leaving maggie to a potential death

which, while i know isn’t actually going to happen, would be a really fucking funny move on the writers’ part

like, “look, lauren’s back! and now she’s dead, bet you didn’t expect that!”

anyway

my assumption is negan will actually end up helping her up or something, continuing his ambiguous morality bullshit that actually isn’t ambiguous bc he BEAT GLENN TO DEATH WITH A FUCKING BAT WRAPPED IN BARBED WIRE IN FRONT OF HIS PREGNANT WIFE

the maggie/negan arch is kind of dumb, but whatevs, i’ll tolerate it, as long as my boy glenn gets justice in the end

anyway, cue credits!

final assessment: good episode. i’m much more interested in commonwealth than the reapers, tho i am hoping that daryl’s personality-less ex turns out to be a monster killing machine with no conscience, that’ll be fun. princess is a gift from god. hershel jr needs his own tv show. needs more carol (and caryl)

the end! going back into my walking dead free chamber! see you next episode!

-diz

[sserpente]

A/N: Geralt smut was requested numerous times, so here we are! What would Halloween time be without Vampire Imagines, after all?

Words: 2562 Warnings: smut, vampire!Reader, prostitute!Reader

“Geralt of Rivia! I haven’t seen you in a while.”

The Witcher hummed with pursed lips. Julius was almost as bad as Jaskier in terms of liveliness and discretion. He had certainly not wanted the entire brothel to know he was here. Several pairs of curious eyes were resting on him now.

He shook his head in disbelief before he strutted towards the counter like he owned the place and handed a terrified young boy—a new waiter, he presumed, he was not familiar with his face—his swords. He only trusted Julius with storing away his weapons safely for the duration of his… stay.

“The usual I presume?” Julius barked in a loud voice. Geralt resisted the urge to roll his eyes. “Danica is sick, I’m afraid. Nothing too serious, the healers say she’ll get through it.”

Couldn’t‘ve told me that earlier, he thought. He nodded when the young waiter offered him a mug of ale.

“Look, before you say anything—I know you only come here for Danica. But I have a new girl. Young, beautiful, cocky. You’ll like her. Her beauty is… elf-like, almost. Wouldn’t tell me where she’s from or who her parents are but she’s of age and she’s experienced. Interested?”

Geralt was about to say no. Quenching his thirst with the ale, he took a few greedy gulps when the creaking wooden door which led to a dark staircase into some more private rooms on the first floor revealed a clearly flustered man in his late thirties, maybe early forties—and one of the most beautiful women he had ever had the honour to lay his eyes upon.

Enamoured, he followed every single one of your movements. He could not deny that there was something about you that was not quite… human. You moved with too much grace, too much felicity and the way your dark red dress wrapped around your near-perfect curves and brought out your eye-colour was almost unnatural to look at.

With a cheeky smile, you waved your most recent customer goodbye who left weaving out of the brothel a little as if he was drunk. At least, the guests’ attention had now found another victim.

Your head spun around when Julius called your name. There was a strange man sitting at the bar. A man with blonde, almost white hair, a handsome face and mesmerising yellow eyes. You recognised him at once.

Julius took a deep breath. “This is…”

“Geralt of Rivia,” You completed, eyebrows raised in awe. “The infamous White Wolf. Danica told me a lot about you… and your adventures.”

Your eye-colour was unnatural too, he noticed up close. You were about as human as he was. Julius, on the other hand, had no clue who he had welcomed into his brothel, so it seemed.

“She’s not here today, I’m afraid.” Tilting your head in an innocent manner, you gave Julius a knowing look. Geralt hummed once more.

“I’ll be upstairs in a minute.” He said, directing his attention towards his beer again. A triumphant smile spread on your lips as you turned on your heel and headed back upstairs into your room.

The Witcher kept his promise. You had long lost your dark red dress when he entered after you. You glanced at him across your shoulder, giving him a mischievous smile and letting him take in your bare behind. Men liked your arse, of course but they liked your back too. Their lustful stares stirred the hot embers inside of you, making the experience about as pleasurable for you as it was for them.

“What are you waiting for, White Wolf? Take off your clothes.” You demanded with a soft voice, steering towards the bed with languid steps. You sprawled out on the mattress then, fully aware of how his yellow eyes followed you with an intimidating hunger in them. You suppressed a chuckle. He might have been a Witcher… but in the end he was just a man too.

Leaning back, you arched your back a little and watched him take off his armour. Piece by piece, the heavy metal and the dark leather came off his body, revealing a handsome, muscly young man covered in dozens of battle scars. They made him all the more beautiful and unique, his signature necklace shimmering in the candle light.

You were surprised he had not yet asked about the curtains being closed but then again, you were not wearing any clothes.

Geralt was already semi-hard when he peeled himself from his trousers—a bold reminder your naked body had the desired effect on him. Once he had ridded himself of his boots as well, he approached the bed so slowly you feared he’d get stuck. Curious, you watched him climb on the mattress until he hovered above you like a wolf about to devour its prey. You purred. He appeared to live up to his name.

Licking your lips, you brought your hands up to stroke his chest. His muscles danced underneath your fingertips, his necklace hanging down in an almost trance-inducing manner. Geralt leaned down to bury his face in your neck when all of a sudden, the heavy metal grazed your skin and a sharp burning sensation rippled through you. An ear-piercing scream escaped your lips, your eyes turning blood-red at once. You felt your fangs press against your gums, willing to grow for you to defend yourself against the pain.

“I fucking knew it…” Geralt mumbled alarmed. His white hair tickled your skin when he moved away, his hands wrapping around your throat, sensing the imminent danger you were radiating. Blinking rapidly, you tried your best to make those terrifying red eyes disappear—even if every fibre of your being screamed to taste him. A Witcher’s blood was sweet and empowering they said… what would it be like if you sank your fangs into his warm skin?

“What are you?” He spat. You lifted your chin as best as you could in your current position, responding to him with a frightful hiss revealing your fangs to him.

Great, Geralt thought. A vampire… just what I needed. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes and instead forced himself to let go of your throat for you to breathe but kept his hands on your throat.

“You’re not afraid, are you?” You choked out, cracking a scornful smile. Geralt bared his teeth.

“What are you doing here? Seducing men to feed on them?”

“No,” You spat, glaring at him, “I do no such thing.” Tapping his strong hands with your own, it took him another moment to finally let go. You gasped. “The man you saw leaving earlier. He had no bite marks on him now, had he?”

The Witcher cocked his head. “Does Julius know?”

“Does Julius know?”

“No, Julius doesn’t know and it’ll stay that way, do you hear me?”

“Are you threatening me?” Geralt frowned, the dark tone in his voice not to be underestimated. Strangely, it sent a shiver through your entire body.

“Do you think me stupid enough to threaten a Witcher? No. Consider this a gentle warning.” You gave him a bitter-sweet smile. Once it faded from your face, you looked up at him with cold eyes.

“I don’t feed from anyone here.” It was only then the White Wolf finally relaxed. Sighing, albeit still cautious, he sank into the cushions to your left.

“Then what is a vampire doing in a brothel?”

“I could use the money and I like sex.”

Geralt raised his eyebrows in a seemingly unimpressed manner. “Who doesn’t…?” He mumbled.

“Exactly,” You shrugged your shoulders, “you’re not gonna kill me, are you?”

“No. I kill monsters.”

Amused, you raised an eyebrow and propped yourself on one elbow to look him in the eye, hoping that your irises had returned to their normal colour by now. “Am I not a monster?” You teased.

His smirk surprised you. “I have a feeling I will find out.”

“Well then, White Wolf… what is it you are going to do?” Geralt sat up straight, capturing your body with his. He had already paid Julius. Vampire or not, you were beautiful and willing. What more could he want after endless and boring days of travelling?

“Just make sure those fangs stay where they are.” He murmured darkly into your ear. You flinched yet again when his silver necklace came in contact with your bare skin.

“You should take it off.” You suggested.

Geralt shook his head. “I don’t take it off. Ever.”

“Fine,” you growled, “then let me get on top.” You did not leave him enough time to protest but rolled you both over so you came to straddle him.

“Have you been with a vampire before?” You asked, genuine curiosity swinging in your voice as you ran your fingers over his chest, careful not to touch his necklace again. His semi-hard manhood grazed against your pubic bone, making him groan when you rubbed against him and watched him grow fully hard before your eyes. You licked your lower lips. You would be wet in no time with this strong and handsome man underneath you—as long as you could ignore the urge to bite him that was.

“No…” He growled.

Fuck… who were you kidding? You were wet already. Humming contended, you positioned yourself above his length, standing proud now, and slowly—painfully slow—lowered yourself onto him. Inch by antagonising inch, you sheathed him inside of you, smiling at him digging his strong fingers into your hips to urge you on.

Geralt threw his head back in pleasure, revealing his neck to you. He realised his mistake only the fraction of a second after, his yellow eyes quickly fixating on your elegant and naked form above him again. Lust was sparkling in his bright irises when you began moving on top of him, your breasts bouncing with every time he bucked his hips to thrust up into you.

Circling your hips in a downright skilled manner, you held onto his muscly thighs for balance, riding him faster and faster. Leaning back like this, it would be nearly impossible for you to come as well but well—Julius paid well and having a man like Geralt of Rivia inside of you more than made up for your lack of orgasms at work.

His grunts fuelled your own desire for him to the point you longed for him to flip you over and rut into you from behind. Sweat was glistening on his forehead and his upper body in the flickering candle light, his chest heaving with every single breath and the room slowly filling with the smell of sex.

Geralt’s growl was animalistic when he emptied himself inside of you, his cock twitching against your walls as it coated them with his warm seed. With a smug expression, you let him ride out his orgasm before you let him slide out of you, lying down next to his exhausted body and feeling his sperm run down your inner thighs and stain the white bedsheets. Good thing it was impossible for a vampire to get pregnant.

Just one bite, a malicious voice in your head whispered. Just a few drops… You blinked. No. Geralt was a Witcher. Unlike your other clients, he would have overpowered you within the blinking of an eye. Sighing, you tore your gaze away from his neck, away from the delicious vein pulsating under his skin and instead stared at the dark ceiling, resting your forehead against his shoulder.

You were not as talkative as Danica after sex. He liked that. This was going to be a both satisfying and peaceful night. All the more surprised was he when, after what seemed like an eternity, you rose up from the bed and moved to put on your dress.

“What are you doing?”

“Come now,” you responded both mockingly and softly at the same time. “Are you that cuddly after sex? I stayed with you long enough, Julius must be waiting for me already. Go get your pants back on, White Wolf.” Geralt frowned.

“I paid Julius for the whole night.”

Your eyes widened. “Excuse me? I do not work at night, I have told him that. I go hunting at night.” You added sheepishly.

“Hmm…” Suspicious, he narrowed his eyes at you. “Hunting where?”

“Downtown. Don’t look at me like that! I don’t kill, not anymore. They usually don’t remember that I fed on them.”

“So you weaken them.” He concluded.

“I have to stay alive somehow, Witcher. What do you expect me to do? Hunt animals?”

“Does the village know there’s a vampire living among them then?”

“They have their suspicions. But I am smart about it. No one would ever expect it to be me.” You shrugged, ignoring his scrutinising gaze. Of course he was not okay with you feeding on humans, you should have expected it. Witcher or not, he had no right to keep you here just because he paid for you.

“There is nothing you can do to stop me, Witcher. I need sustenance just like you… unless you will let me feed on you?” You tilted your head in a provocative manner. “Your blood would keep me nurtured for a long time, I’m sure.”

Unbeknownst to you, Geralt actually considered it for a moment. Stopping you for a whole night from harming innocent humans in return for more sex with you… there was worse. The bite of a ghoul for example or that of a werewolf. Oddly enough, he actually trusted you when you said you had no desire to kill your victims.

“Get back on the bed.” He demanded surprisingly soft, offering you his wrist in the process. Your lips parted, mouth watering. Was he being serious?

Excited, you abandoned your dress and jumped back on the mattress, straddling him once more. He moaned when you sank your fangs into his flesh, tasting his blood. It was even better than you had imagined and certainly, you had never been naked while feeding on someone before. You wondered…

A pleasant shiver went up and down your spine when he cupped one of your breasts with his hands, kneading it pleasurably and playing with your nipple until it hardened under his touch. Hungrily, you rubbed your crotch against his stomach, your clit throbbing and screaming for more attention as you spread your wetness all over him. Geralt did not seem to mind.

He pulled you away from his wrists the moment you came undone, hot bliss surging through your body like liquid fire. The taste of the White Wolf’s blood on your tongue along with the friction to your most intimate parts was too much to bear even for a vampire. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you let your pleasure consume you, noticing only in a deep haze that Geralt had grown hard again.

His wrist looked nice with your bite mark on it. You longed to give him more.

“Thank you…” You murmured when he flipped you both around so you came to lie on your back. Geralt was kneeling before you, between your legs, ready to take you once more. And you had a feeling that this would not have been the last time you would be sharing a bed with the White Wolf.

-

A/N: If you enjoyed this story, I would appreciate it so much if you considered supporting me on Kofi! It’s either for caffeine or red wine, I’ll take both. ko-fi.com/sserpente ♥

[the-hopeless-haze]

Oh, My Precious Whore

A/N: didn’t really think I’d ever be posting fic on here again… but I am tired and need a distraction so… have this as a treat

Pairing: Claire Underwood x f!reader, implied Duncan Shepherd x f!reader

CW: derogatory pet names, implied smut (will not occur in full until the next part)

Description: idk this is just pure filth bc there’s a severe lack of f!reader fic and… Robin Wright is hot af. Also had to throw in some Duncan in there bc I love Cody Fern

Maybe you should feel worse right now about what you’re doing, but you don’t.

You, at the very least, should feel scared. The Underwoods, or well, Underwood... she was a powerful woman and if you stepped a millimeter out of place your life was likely in danger. Or so they said. Your in-laws were wary of her, you know, but she was wary of them, too. You think. She’s a difficult woman to read.

The rumors concerning the crimes her late husband supposedly committed are lengthy and convoluted, but you suspect they hold some truth to them. Most rumors usually aren’t based totally in fiction. Her husband was truly a ruthless motherfucker. Claire... Claire doesn’t seem to be ruthless. Nor does she seem to be what you would describe as a motherfucker.

No, she’s a cold hearted bitch. A bitter, sociopathic cunt.

But you never wanted what was good for you.

Sometimes, you swear you love Duncan and you wish it was easier to convince yourself. He a good husband, all things considered. Perhaps a little too focused on work, but... he treats you well to make up for it. He is loyal to a fault, if anyone ever was. You met him through a friend, and though it makes you feel guilty you used him in a vain attempt to get closer to Annette.

But Annette didn’t swing your way, as she told you in not so many words. Or, rather, she said, “Just be a good pet and marry my son. You on his arm will do well for everyone all around. Your dalliances on the side are no one’s business as long as you keep them secret enough that not even Duncan finds out.”

So you agreed, and accepted his proposal you figured she no doubt hounded him into. It’s not so much that you don’t like men, you do, and Duncan is such an attractive man, and he’s a thorough lover... it’s just you suppose you have a preference for women. Older women. You used to joke in high school that you wanted to be a high-end escort for rich older women getting away from their CEO husbands for the weekend.

But your parents would have never approved of that plan. So you went to law school instead. Which was fine. You make decent money without Duncan, but with him you’re somewhat of a young, hot power couple. You’re not really interested in policy the way his family is - you just like ingratiating yourself amongst these people with influence. You get off on brushing shoulders with the powerful. Parties don’t mean much to you. Everyone is truly an evil son of a bitch, no matter what they say when the cameras are on. No one cares about progress, not unless it’s self-serving.

The first time you met Claire, you thought you might die. She barely gave Duncan a second glance but you? She stood and chatted with you about your latest case your firm had taken - how she knew about it among all the other things on her mind, you don’t know - but it was a pleasant conversation, all things considered. You know her and Annette used to be close. You wonder how much Claire does know about you.

You know you can’t trust her. At all.

But after that incident, Duncan grinned and shook his head. “Wouldn’t want to give credence to those rumors. She might have it out for you.”

“Rumors?” You asked, panicking already. Did he know?

“That Claire is a lesbian. It’s been floating around some circles, that that’s why she wasn’t truly upset at her husband’s death, that that’s why she’s pushing so hard for female rights. It’s interesting. It is the first time I met her, but having done so it wouldn’t entirely surprise me.”

You can tell. That woman probably isn’t a lesbian, or if she is, she’s very good at utilizing her charm to make it seem as though she’s not. If anything, you’d peg her as asexual. She uses sex as a weapon. Fair enough. You’ve seen even weaker women feel the need to use it.

You wonder if she’s ever had sex purely for herself and not for manipulation purposes.

You wonder if she could even do that. You reckon you don’t really care if you found out the hard way.

It’s a few weeks later that you receive a message stating the President required your audience. And you know you should tell Annette, or Duncan at the very least, but you don’t. You know you shouldn’t show up at all. But Annette said to keep your dalliances secret. So secret they will stay.

“How loyal are you to the Shepherds?” Claire asks when you arrive. Straight to the point. Good.

“As loyal as I have to appear,” you tell her.

Claire smiles a little. “Why did you marry Duncan? He doesn’t seem quite your type.”

“And what do you presume my type is?”

“Perhaps more feminine. Older.”

“Mm. And what is your type, Ms President?”

“Why did you marry him? Did Annette threaten to out you?” she repeats.

“Not in so many words,” you say.

“Hmm. Interesting. He has no idea, I presume?”

“Why did you call me here?” you ask, your anxiety getting the better of you.

“I need information on the Shepherds. And I believe I have something you’d want in return.”

Your head starts spinning, but no, spinning is an understatement. It’s fucking doing somersaults. You cannot believe what she’s proposing.

“You want to prostitute yourself to me for information?”

And Claire does the last thing you ever expected the bitch to do. She walks across the room and slaps you across the face. Hard enough to sting, but not as hard as you bet she could. You feel the cold metal of her wedding ring press against your cheek as she grabs your chin, her cold blue eyes piercing through to your soul. “Don’t you dare fucking accuse the president of the United States of debasement, and don’t ever assume you have the upper hand.”

“Claire—“

“Are we on first name basis, slut?” she asks, her hand slithering down to your throat. Holy shit, you think. This bitch might actually fucking kill me. You think you’d care more if this wasn’t possibly the hottest thing that ever happened to you. “I didn’t think so. Now. What are your loyalties? Who are you closest to?”

“Duncan, obviously. Annette lets her guard down around me because she likes that I think she’s hot, but she still doesn’t like me. Bill and I don’t get along.”

“Interesting. How much does Duncan know?”

“I know more than Duncan.”

“Really, now? Are you just saying that? Because if you don’t prove to be useful...”

“What? You’ll kill me?”

Claire laughs. “No, you’re much more fun to me alive. But tell me… do you know where Duncan came from?”

“I mean, I truly don’t know how Annette’s cunt could birth anything, given how much of a bitch she is, but…”

Claire smiles. “Yes. Much more fun alive. Duncan is not her child.”

“Well, that’s a relief I don’t have any chance of keeping the Shepherd bloodline alive,” you snicker. “Where did he come from, then?”

“I’ll tell you… in time. But you have to tell him, too. In front of Annette and Bill. I want them all to know.”

“They’ll skin me alive if they knew I was here.”

“Do you want to fuck me or not? These are my terms.”

“So that is why I’m here?”

She only smirks at you, the wrinkles around her blue eyes crinkling as she does. “Your attraction to me is far more interesting than... well, men are pigs, right? I’m sure you are well aware. But you, you look at me like you want to fuck me, sure, but you also know your place. You respect me, even if you try to talk back. Men don’t know any better.”

“Have you ever slept with a woman before?”

She only smiles. “Does it matter?”

“Just wanted to know if there was credence to the rumors.”

“Rumors? You’re quite bold. I’m the one with my hand...wrapped around your throat.”

“It’d be pretty messy for you if you killed me right now,” you retort, wincing and rubbing your legs together as she increases the pressure on your neck.

“You’ll learn not to talk back, whore. To think you’re a married woman...”

“Yeah? Did you hold your marriage sacrosanct?”

There’s that smile again. She’s beautiful, ethereal, but there’s something so inhumane about the way her lips move upward to smirk at you. Maybe you should learn to shut your mouth, but you always were a brat. Besides, it’s more fun this way.

“I did.”

“Liar,” you accuse, smirking at her as you do, and she lets go of your throat and before you can miss the feeling too much she slaps your face again, the right cheek this time, much harder than the first time. You let out a startled, strangled moan on impulse, stumbling back a little against the wall.

“Oh, did that hurt?” she coos at you condescendingly, fixing a piece of your hair that fell out of place as you stand back up, pressing your back flat against the wall for stability. Claire crosses her arms and stands directly in front of you.

“I can take it. I can take more than that,” you say boldly.

“Oh? What else do you like, slut?”

“You name it, I’m game.”

“Anything? Handcuffs? Whips? Knives?”

You nod at everything she comes up with. Jesus, you would let this woman carve out your heart if she wanted it.

“If I make you bleed?”

“Better.”

“Interesting. Does Duncan play these little games with you?”

You laugh. “No.”

“You only want a woman to do these things to you?”

“Precisely. Are you kinky, Madam President?”

“Whatever my partner requires... I make certain I provide.”

“But what do you want?”

“I’m a hard woman to please.”

“Oh. Is that the kind way of saying Frank wasn’t good in bed?” you ask, feigning sympathy. She only smirks again. “I’m surprised you didn’t slap me for that. He must have really been awful.”

“You think you could do better?”

“Women do everything better,” you laugh, earning perhaps the only genuine smile you’ve gotten from this woman the whole time. “That’s why I wanted to know if you’ve been with a woman...”

“No. But I’ve thought about it. Never had a woman as interested as you.”

“I find that very hard to believe. Maybe you just never noticed. What gave it away?” You’re aching for her to touch you again, give you anything, even pain, but she stands still in front of you.

“I can just tell. Besides, I was interested to meet you. You’re the Shepherd’s weak link. I knew Annette didn’t vet you carefully enough.”

“Are you saying me being gay is an issue?”

“Are you so naive to think it wouldn’t be, given the state of this country?” she retorts. “But that’s not all. I can tell you don’t like them. I could tell you were easy... on more than one account.”

You roll your eyes. “I fucking hate Bill. I mean it’s awful to say, he’s not doing well physically, but he’s just made life a living hell for me.”

“Why?” she asks, tilting her head to the side.

“I don’t know. Maybe he hates gay people. Maybe he hates women. Both. Don’t know.”

“So everyone knows but Duncan? Funny how he’s kept out of all the good family secrets that concern him.”

You sigh. “See, sexuality’s a funny thing. I like Duncan. I do. And sometimes sex with him is good if not great. He’s a good partner. But I just prefer women.”

“Must be nice to have it figured out. Your generation did have it easier.”

You look at her questioningly. You never thought someone like her was human enough to struggle with such a thing, but perhaps that’s an unfair assessment.

Or she’s playing you.

Still. She’d have to be quite a good player - not that you should underestimate her skill - to talk about something as personal as her struggles with sexuality. Straight people just don’t get it. Would she really be this easily well versed if it was a game?

“There’s still a long ways to go,” you say.

“I intend to rectify that.”

“Of course you do.”

Her eyes narrow at you and she tilts her head. “Do you think I should be doing better?”

“Yeah. Come out, for starters.”

“Says the woman in a sham marriage.”

“It’s not a sham. I love Duncan,” you protest.

“Then why are you here, selling out his family just for a chance to fuck me? You’re not much better than I am.”

“I don’t think I’ve told you anything yet. Besides. It’s not his real family… as you say.”

“No. You haven’t told me anything I didn’t already know. But I haven’t fucked you yet either, have I?”

“Touché.”

“Come over here,” she beckons, leaning against the desk and once again it strikes you where you are - the fucking Oval Office. Are you seriously going to have sex in the Oval Office? Conservatives would be disgusted by this (although it wouldn’t be the first time this office was defiled). “Don’t look so scared now. You can’t back out at this point.”

You nod, trying not to look as nervous as you feel and walk the few steps over to her, your legs inches from hers. God, you’re practically dying from the anticipation alone.

“Does Duncan ever tell you how beautiful you are?” She asks. You’re absolutely shellshocked. There’s no trace of sarcasm in her voice.

“Sometimes,” you murmur.

“Just like men to not appreciate what they have.”

“Mm. Frank didn’t appreciate you, Claire? Didn’t make you feel good? I would. If you were my wife I’d make you come every fucking day,” you say, and boldly you decide to punctuate that statement by pressing your lips to hers.

Mistake. Or maybe not, you don’t know.

Her hands tangle in your hair and you feel her stand up, press against you firmly before backing you into the desk, pushing you onto it until your back is flat on the wood, and she’s hovering over you, her lips ghosting yours.

“I’m a hard woman to please,” she reiterates and you realize she never fucking lost her breath while you feel like the wind was knocked out of you. “I’m ambivalent about attention in general. But look at you, whore. You crave it, don’t you? Just want someone to tell you that you’re a good girl... oh, look at you squeeze your thighs together. Are you wet for me, slut?”

“Why don’t you see for yourself?” You ask, spreading your legs slightly for her.

She shakes her head, her straight platinum locks shifting as she does so, brushing against your face. “See? You’re not a good girl. You’re a dirty filthy whore and you just don’t know when to shut that whore mouth or close your fucking legs.”

You stay silent - you’re not sure what to do now. Do you antagonize her, push her further, see if it will rile her up again? Or do you try and kiss her again?

Claire has other ideas. “Beg,” she hisses in your ear. “Get down on your knees and beg for me.”

—- and I am evil and ending it there! Plz let me know if I should continue this!

[ficsilike-reblogged]

Glass Swords

Summary:  Tovar knew he had bad luck–it came with the curse the witch gave him on his thirteenth birthday. Trapped in a contract by a band of bloodthirsty noblemen who use Tovar for his skill with a sword, he has all but resigned himself to a life of servitude. But then a job shoves him into the path of a princess who almost makes him smile. (Cinderella!AU)

Pairing: Pero Tovar/F!Reader

Warnings: None really. I make an allusion to the events of the movie but you don’t have to have seen it to understand this. 

Word Count: 4.8k

(Banner by my darling @starlight-starwrites​)

Or you can read on Ao3!

Once upon a time, there was a boy who seemed to have remarkably good luck. He was born to a wealthy, aristocratic family, and being the firstborn and a son guaranteed him a title of his own. His horse always came first in races, his opponents were always making simple mistakes in duels. He always had the keen eye to find a forgotten bit of coin on the ground. His first shot always hit its make when he was hunting.

Yes, Pero Tovar was lucky.

Until his luck soured at the hands of a woods witch.

On his thirteenth birthday, on a hunt with his band of friends and loyal servants, he darted into the forest to call for the hunting dog that had gone after gods-knows-what instead of the fowl they’d been hoping for when they set out. Again and again he called for the hound with no luck.

“Your dog has ruined my garden,” came a sudden voice behind him.

Pero turned to see a woman, old and shrouded in tattered grey robes, emerging from the forest shadows. An answering howl soon followed and a muddied hound bounded up to him, remnants of flowers and trampled vegetables hanging from his panting mouth.

And Pero laughed. What else was he supposed to do?

“For too long I have been held at the whim of your family. They have forgotten the treaty they signed when they came here, building your castle on my land and promising that you would provide. That you would never forget. But you have. And then you laugh when my little source of happiness was trampled by a hound.” Words tumbled from her chapped lips in a language he did not recognize and soon felt as if a bucket of icy river water had been dropped over his head.

“What did you do?” He hissed, feeling himself shake like a scared deer.

“I have made sure the world treats you as it treats me.” Her weathered mouth stretched into a smile he could see beneath the cowl. “But I am not cruel. I only want you to learn a lesson. But your lot seem stubborn so I would not be surprised if it took you the rest of your life.” She stepped forward and pulled a blade from the folds of her robes and Pero took an instinctive step back.

Almost instantly, his heel caught on a root and he tumbled to the moss-covered ground, pain zig-zagging up his spine as he landed.

The witch only laughed and continued forward. She twisted the blade in her hand and she held it out to him. And it was not as if he could say no. Not now. The short sword was clear—like glass. As soon as his hand wrapped around the handle, he felt the cold stone form to his grip, imprinting itself to his touch.

“When you’ve pierced the heart of a princess with your glass sword, then and only then will the curse lift.”

“A-a-a princess?” Pero parroted, feeling his stomach drop.

But the witch was gone and all he had was the glass sword.

His bad luck made itself known when he collided with his sister as they both rounded corners and she tumbled down the stone stairs of their home. Sancha was fine, thankfully but Pero would never forget how the blood pooled around her head or the scream she let out as she fell.

That was his fault. He knew it would only get worse as time progressed. He would not endanger his family. And so, Pero left a short note for his mother and father, telling them that he would return once he’d earned his honor on his own. The note he left for his sister told the truth, apologize for her injuring asking for her forgiveness even though he knew he already had it. Sancha was too pure of heart to ever hold any anger.

He set out. At first, trying to find another witch to counteract the curse. Then, to healers who promised anything and everything for the right price. And then, little by little, his hope faded. For a moment, he did consider driving the short blade through the heart of a princess—any princess—to just be rid of the curse. So he could see his family again. So he could live without worrying about bridges, loose bricks, or roots—or the millions of other things that the witch had made unlucky.

But he couldn’t. And in desperation to stay fed, he took up work as a mercenary. Another unlucky decision. It had led him to far flung lands that would have been an adventure to rival any explorer—he had fought creatures from another world!—but he did not enjoy any of it (aside from a few fleeting moments). And he could kill people who were trying to kill him all the time. Pero was good at it, he found. But it did not necessarily give him much opportunity to even know any princesses or be able to pick them out of a crowd so he could…stab them.

His bad luck continued.

When he failed to return to his employers, a group of nefarious noblemen from some country he didn’t care to remember, with the Black Powder they had requested, there were consequences. And now he was stuck in a contract, unable to leave his ‘employment’ because a bottle of ink had spilled across the contract and blotted out a very telling bit of information. He could not leave unless they were all dead. And if he broke that contract, his life would be forfeit.

He never would have signed—obviously—if he had been able to read that line.

But it was done. He was trapped. His bad luck mostly did not endanger his life—and he was sure the witch made sure of that. It would be no fun if it killed him and he was able to rest in death. The closest he had come to death because of his luck was when an ornamental sword fell from its hold on the wall and nearly took his eye.

One of the noblemen who benefitted from his terrible contract said the scar made him look fearsome. But he said it with a curdled milk smirk that rolled Pero’s stomach. It wasn’t a compliment, he knew.

And now he was called in by his ‘employers’ to settle another job. He vaguely listened—something about needing the little kingdom’s valuable port for some trivial reason and the easiest way to acquire the port was for Pero to kill at least the king and his eldest son so the second-born son could become king. Apparently, the noblemen who were employing him had an agreement with the power hungry prince. Pero was sure there were more details but he did not care to commit them to memory. He knew how to kill and his timeline.

That was all that really mattered.

But first, he needed to scout through the dense forest surrounding the castle to find a way in.

He weaved between trees as he started toward the castle. The outer perimeter walls had been easily climbed without drawing attention and while the surrounding grounds were vast, they were not heavily patrolled. As he continued to close the distance to the dark stone of the castle, Pero started to believe that this might the easiest job his contract had ever permitted him. The one solace he had was still being able to learn languages easily so he was able to learn of this mostly-unattended part of the perimeter wall by listening at the nearest market.

The sound of a horse’s hooves on the drying leaves drew his attention, his head whipping to the side, to one of the few bits of sunlight that slipped through the thick trees overhead.

It was a woman—one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen, if he was being truthful—sitting atop a horse. She was smiling up at the birds as they sang in the branches. She was dressed in a simple smock and her horse was unsaddled. She was probably a maid from the castle.

But that did not detract from how his throat tightened as he looked at her. She was, after all, beautiful. It was almost embarrassing how he didn’t even realize she had spotted him until it was too late.

“Hello, sir.” Her voice was kind on his ears and he was instantly wondering if she would speak again.

“Hello, my lady.”

“Are you lost? It is not often I see strangers in the kingswood.” She nudged her horse toward him, uncaring of the danger strangers often present. Or maybe she was unknowing. There was a certain sweetness to her that Pero knew could not be feigned.

“I am hunting, my lady. I hope I did not disturb you.”

She shook her head. “I was not aware the king was having a hunting party today. I hope I did not scare away your prey.”

“No, my lady. I have just lost the rest of our party. Do you work at the castle?”

“Yes.” Her smile seemed to be hiding something but Pero thought little of it, instead focusing on how the light made her eyes sparkle.

“Do they treat you well? I am sure I could put in a good word for you,” he said, knowing his roguish smile was starting to cut across his face. He might have the worst luck but he still knew how to make a pretty woman smile.

And it worked because she demurely averted her eyes before biting her lip for a moment. “They treat me much better than they should,” she said with a shake of her head. “But I thank you for the offer.” She cleared her throat before looking at him again. “I can fetch you a bit of water or ale from the kitchens, if you would like? You must be parched.”

“No, no, my lady. But you are kind to offer.”

The sound of someone calling out in the distance had her turning her head with a frown. “I’ve lost track of the hour. I must go.”

And then her dark horse was setting off, galloping between the black-barked trees, and disappearing from sight before he could even ask for her name.

Pero did not find a way into the castle that day. He could have, but he didn’t. His employers allowed him another day of scouting in the woods and he happily took advantage of it and hoped his curse would subside just for a day, or even a few hours, so he might happen upon the maid again.

And his silent plea was heard as he found her at the base of a large tree, a well-worn book settled on her lap.

“Hello again,” she said as she spotted him.

“Hello, my lady.”

She patted the bit of grass beside her and Pero wavered for a moment before taking the offered seat. “Hunting again today?”

“No. I must confess that I was hoping to see you.”

Her answering giggle had something squeezing in the deep recesses of his chest. “Well, you have found me.” She closed the book carefully and turned to face him a little more. “What is your name? I have tried to guess it but I do not think any name I might have conjured would suit you.”

He could have told her his true name. It was not as if she would be able to stop him in his quest. But he knew to never think he could outsmart his curse. “I am Tovar.” And then he quickly added his title that he had not used in decades: “Marquess Tovar.” As if that would somehow make his lie about hunting with the royals more believable.

She gave him her name in return and then started to gently, simply pull him into conversation about anything and everything—from the animals he was unfamiliar with in the forest, to learning how the she grew up inside the castle and still got lost in its twisting, turning halls and rooms.

He knew he should be committing the hints she was giving to him about the castle’s layout to memory but didn’t want to. He only want to continue to hear her speak. She would ask him questions too, about how he was finding her homeland and if he still “did not require a bit of drink to slake his thirst from the kitchens.”

She was…sunlight. And such a sharp contrast to the darkness of the kingdom she resided in with its masses of dark stone, fog, and black wood trees. She did not deserve such darkness. Sunlight. She should have been bathed in sunlight, in warmth, in all things light and lovely. Not here. Not in the dark and cold. Even if it was her home—even if she called it home with a tilt of her beautiful lips.

“Tell me, Tovar. Are you coming to the Masque tomorrow night? I would like to see you again.”

“There is a Masque tomorrow?”

She nodded with another smile and stood, brushing the moss and dirt from her little dress and apron. “The King is celebrating his birthday and his daughter has finally returned from her time abroad.”

“A princess?”

She laughed and held out a hand toward him, helping him to his feet. “Yes. I thought the king would have told you about her when you were hunting.”

“I’ve only heard of his sons,” he said, not entirely lying.

“Either way, will you come to the Masque tomorrow?” She looked so hopeful, so happy. He could not tell her no. And it was with a soft kiss to his cheek that she bid him goodbye and he was left in the dark of the forest, watching her disappear again.

A Royal Masque. And a princess. Perhaps his luck was turning on its own.

This would provide the perfect opportunity for him—kill the princess and be able to dance with the woman whose lips pleasantly burned his skin.

**

It had been easy to procure an invitation to the Masque. It had been harder to find an outfit that would not gain him unwanted attention. The shops were nearly all too busy or too empty but he did eventually find a decent enough ensemble and matching mask without emptying his coffers too much. His employers had been pleased to know he had found a way into the castle without too much fanfare and seemed to approve of his plan to carry out their plot at the masque. (And if another royal died that night, who would think that it was not part of a larger plan instead of a desperate man trying to break a curse?)

Pero handed over his invitation to the major-domo standing in front of the black and gold doors and was finally ushered inside—even after a few of the knights eyed the short sword sheathed at his hip. The halls were filled with more shining dark stone and gilded suits of armor from centuries past. Paintings and tapestries were hung along the walls, depicting the kingdom’s fabled rise to power. Blooms of white flowers were littered about, a sharp contrast to the darkness that seemed to permeate each corner of this little kingdom.

No couples had already to the floor to dance yet but he did spot a few practicing an almost-familiar set of measured steps away from onlookers. The raised dais filled with a few ornately carved chairs—thrones, he supposed—was empty. His targets were not here yet.

But perhaps she was.

He scanned the crowd but did not spot her—even with everyone wearing masks, he was sure he would recognize her from leagues away.

Music suddenly blared, announcing the arrival of someone important. He turned with the rest of the crowd and listened as the royals were announced. There was the youngest son, the next, and then the eldest. The king was escorted by his daughter, but the answering applause and cheer drowned out her name and Pero could only crane his neck too much to try and get a look before he started to look suspicious.

The first official song was called and the heir apparent took the dance with his betrothed before other couples were allowed to join them on the gleaming wooden floor.

Pero continued to scan the crowd, briefly touching the small vials he’d hidden within his doublet, and found the servant in charge of bringing goblets of wine to the king without much trouble.

It was easy.

But then a woman dressed in fine clothes of the kingdom’s sigil was striding toward him, uncaring of the masses of people bowing and curtseying in her wake and she only slowed to a stop when she was right in front of him. This must be the princess. A mask of gold covered most of her features but her eyes sparkled in such a way that Pero could have sworn he had seen them before. They were alight with recognition and mischief.

“Dance with me,” she whispered.

“Your highness, I-”

The princess tilted her mask up and…

And that was when he realized, the girl from the forest and the princess…were the same person.

His fleeting moment of happiness had actually been another stroke of bad luck. How cruel.

She looked just as beautiful in her finery and jewels as she did in the smock she had donned in the forest. Her grip was gentle as she carefully started to lead him in the dance and didn’t laugh when he stumbled over her gilded shoes. Eventually, thankfully, he righted himself and was able to properly dance with her, letting the music guide his steps with her gentle corrections whenever he missed one or two.

“You’re a princess,” he said, hating the moment they left his lips.

“I am. Very astute of you, Tovar.” She laughed and stepped back from him as the song ended with a flourish and clapped for the minstrels. But then she turned back to him “Come with me,” she murmured, just low enough for him to hear. The princess didn’t wait for his answer and grasped his hands, quickly leading him through the crowd, some of whom tried to stop them, asking for his name, for a moment of the princess’ time, on and on it went. But she did not falter. Her grip did not loosen.

Not until they were out of the humid air of the ballroom and in the beautiful, cooled night air did she finally stop. Her smile was still wide and his face hurt as he felt himself trying to, unconsciously, mirror her expression. His face was not used to the movement. “What are you up to, princess?”

“I have something to show you.” She squeezed his hands once. “Do you have somewhere else you’d rather be? I don’t mean to steal you away if you have someone else waiting for you.”

Pero shook his head. “No. No, princess. I am happy to know you want my time as much as I desire yours.”

She bit her lip with a soft giggle. “Well, I do hope you like it.” She stepped back to link her arm through his, and continued to guide him down the shining palace steps and into the lush, green gardens. It was as easy for her to pull little bits of information from him as she tossed her golden mask into a bush without a care.

“Tell me of your homeland.”

“It is beautiful, your highness. Filled with sunlight and…” he drifted off, finally allowing himself to think of his home and family for the first time in years. “I miss it very much.”

She was quiet as he thought and did not seem to mind as he came back to himself—a familiar, gentle smile on her lips as she looked at him. “You do not strike me as a man who would leave someone or someplace you love so fiercely without cause. What pushed you to do so, if I may be so bold?”

“Bad luck,” he answered simply. “But tell me, why were you in the forest? Not once, but twice and without an escort or lady’s maid.”

Her face twisted into a pout for a moment. “I must admit that I do not care for every bit of royal life. It can all be so…tedious.”

“So, you snuck away?”

She nodded. “Donned my maid’s dress and took my horse from the stables while the hand was busy tending to my brother’s mare. It took hours for them to even notice I’d missed luncheon.”

“Did you not just return from abroad? I would have assumed that they would scarcely let you out of their sights.”

She shook her head with a laugh as they slowed to a stop in front of rusted gate she opened and waved him through. A secret garden greeted them, filled with all the color that the rest of the kingdom seemed to lack. Even in the moonlight, he could see the vibrant yellow, pink, red, and orange hues of the flowers that were growing haphazardly and unkempt by practiced hands. It reminded him, achingly, of the gardens his mother and Sancha would tend to on their own at home. They had always liked the free-roaming blooms over the careful structure of the manicured grounds.

“They like having me close, true. But underfoot is nothing but annoyance for everyone involved.”

“What is this place?” He asked, letting her pull him onto a simply carved bench in the center of the garden.

She turned to him with another smile—she seemed so fond of smiling. “This was my mother’s secret place. Free from the confines of my father’s kingdom and his advisor’s disapproving eyes. She would bring me here when I was little and teach me the names of all the flowers and how to care for them.”

It did not take long for Tovar to recognize the hurt in her tone.

He wondered if she heard it in his voice when he spoke of home. Of his beautiful family in Spain. Perhaps that was why he rarely spoke of them. But he wanted to tell her. Wanted to tell her everything. So, he tried. He told her of the gardens his mother grew and refused to let their servants touch. Told her of how the fields around his home smelled sweet in the spring. Told her of all the colors he had seen on his adventures—even if he had to omit some bits of information to not reveal his true profession. And she listened keenly, asking questions and always seeming to think whatever he had said was interesting. In turn, she told him of her brief time in her mother’s ancestral kingdom, learning all she could and feeling torn when she knew she had to return to her home kingdom.

He was hardly aware of time passing, or how close they had grown on the bench until he heard a crier announcing the time—it was nearing midnight. He turned at the sudden noise and his hand slid across the bench—and quickly earned himself a handful of thorns to the webbing between his fingers. He hissed but hurriedly stopped himself as her gentle, soft hands cradled his and started to remove the thorns one by one. “Bad luck indeed,” she said, teasing. “I had trimmed those blooms back.”

Bad luck.

Bad luck.

Bad luck.

The sword at his hip grew heavier.

He could do it. He could run the blade through her chest and pierce her heart and be done with this wretched curse. But her eyes were shining in the moonlight and she smiled at him and he…couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Seeming to sense his distress, her smile faded. “Tovar? What ails you?” She reached out toward him and the moment her soft hand touched his cheek…he fled.

Decades of running toward dangers left him in an instant and he ran like a coward. Out of the garden, through the crowded ballroom where people shouted for him to stop, and out into the courtyard.

He fled. He ran until his legs gave out.

And it was only then that he noticed his sword was missing.

**

Hiding in the woods was not the most comfortable of living quarters but it was not the worst he had used since he had run from home.

He would not face his employers’ wrath. Another job left unfinished would cost him his head, he knew it. To survive, he hunted and forged, only moving into the outskirts of the market when he truly needed to buy something—like healing herbs for when he cut open his arm on a low hanging branch, or new boots after his toe caught on a sharp stone and tore the sole clean off.

Perhaps it was his need to survive and not be noticed, but it took Pero weeks to realize that the kingdom was in a tizzy.

The King had nearly been murdered as the masque and his second son was implicated in the plot. A band of foreign nobles had been arrested and their heads now sat on spikes outside the castle.

But that was not all.

Apparently, the princess had been scouring the kingdom looking for the man she had danced with at the masque—who had left behind a very peculiar short sword; its handle seeming to fit only one man’s hand.

It felt silly to let himself hope.

Could he? Should he let her find him? The curse still loomed. He would not subject her to the danger that seemed to follow him. He could not-

“There you are.”

Apparently he had been ruminating too long and had not noticed the small band of people approaching him at the edge of the market. The princess—and he was loathed to admit that he had momentarily let himself refer to her as His Princess—was standing in front of him with her familiar, beautiful smile on her lips and his sword in her hand. She turned it over, holding the hilt toward him as he hastily bowed.

“This is yours, yes?”

He nodded and reached out for it, feeling the familiar hand fit into his hand like it had for decades. But soon a gentle warmth bloomed up his hand until he could feel it burrowing in his chest. Something had changed.

**

When the king learned of Tovar’s true identity, he was able to grant his daughter’s wish of allowing their betrothal. A son of duke of a wealthy kingdom was a worthy match—and the king liked to make his daughter smile, too, even if it was at the side of a foreign duke who came into palace looking slovenly.

But Pero was still nervous. Even if he no longer tripped on stairs, bricks did not fall and nearly crush his skull, animals did not dart in front of his feet. He wanted to be sure—after all, he had not delivered a heart to the woods witch.

But, on the eve of their wedding, as Pero paced in his ornate and comfortable bedchamber, a sudden blast of cold air had him turning. In front of him stood a familiar woman. Her robes were still tattered but she was…glowing. Near ethereal. The woods witch had come again.

“I could feel your worries from leagues away, little duke.” Her smile was all teeth and he knew to keep quiet. “While I would have preferred the actual heart of that beautiful princess, the curse has been lifted. That little glass sword led her heart to you. You are free. I promise you that.”

“I am sorry,” Pero said, feeling the words rush out as he looked at her. “I am so sorry, my lady.”

“I know,” she hummed before she glanced around the room. “She will like Spain more, little duke. I promise you that.”

Before Pero could ask for specifics, the witch was gone in another gust of cold wind.

**

Pero watched his wife’s smile grow broader and broader as their carriage drew closer to his castle.

The sun was shining. The air was sweet with the scent of springtime flowers and green grasses. It was filled with the colors he had promised her that night in the garden.

His family greeted them warmly and his sweet mother and sister cried in joy at finally having him back home while his father did look quiet near tears, too. Pero just watched it all with a smile on his face, so large and persistent it hurt his face.

“It is beautiful here,” she whispered to him that night in their bedchamber. “But, of course, I would expect nothing more from the land who gave me you.”

Pero kissed her, smiling against her mouth.

His glass sword was forgotten on their bedside table.

He had all he needed, all the good luck in the world, right here in his arms.

And they lived happily ever after.

The end.

A/N: please let me know what you think! 

[kaizokuou-ni-naru]

The Voyage So Far: Wano (Part Two)

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

okay so the wano flashback is possibly my favorite in the whole series for a whole bunch of different reasons, and oden as a character is a big part of why. honestly, i think he’s great. he’s wildly entertaining and ridiculously likable, just like a folk hero should be.

i care about oden and the akazaya nine a lot. they have one of my favorite found family dynamics in the whole series, up there with the strawhats themselves- a bunch of thugs and castoffs who wound up gathering around this one wildly charismatic moron and deciding to be stronger and better for him. 

i think they really feel like a family, in these little moments we get of them just interacting and messing around, and it only makes later events- oden’s death, the twenty-year separation, kanjurou’s betrayal- hurt all the worse.

on god it is the funniest thing on earth to me that this is how oden and izou wound up on whitebeard’s ship. 

the roger pirates!! i really really like the roger pirates!! i love that there’s this entire predecessor crew who are both absolutely fucking fascinating from a lore perspective and who are just all individually really good characters with really fun relationships. the dynamics we get to see just in this brief part of the flashback are absolutely delightful. i think the fact that i would read a whole series just about the roger pirates is a testament to oda’s character writing. 

there’s a specific sort of tragedy to the roger pirates, and i think it really hits home in their last few pages in this flashback. by all appearances, they were a crew just as close-knit as the strawhats are. they cared about each other a lot- that ship was their home.

and then their captain died, and they just- fell apart. 

awhile back, in my sabaody post, i talked about how we get to know roger first as a story and then as a character by getting to meet characters who knew him personally. to the rest of the world, roger is a story, a name to curse or a height to aspire to. but for shanks and rayleigh and crocus and buggy and all the rest of the roger pirates, he was their captain. 

the whole wano flashback, possibly more than any of the others in the series, really feels to me like a story being told, a folk tale being passed down, which makes sense, since it’s canonically framed as oden’s diary entries. and i think that framing device just adds so much to the atmosphere of this entire section of story, the feeling of myth and legend to it. 

i honestly really like how oden’s death is handled. i have trouble articulating it, but it’s so much, so over the top, so heavily set up and foreshadowed- a legendary death for a legendary man, if that makes sense.

toki’s prophecy is one of my favorite motifs in this whole arc. wano is all about a country that’s been trapped and dying for years and years, holding out desperate hope for salvation. toki is the one who gave them that hope. she doesn’t try to tell them that everything will be okay, she says it will be dark and the darkness will be long, but the dawn will come, and even though she gave her life to do that, she did it smiling. 

without toki, the wano arc never would have happened, because there would be no future to fight for. 

this panel is the header on my favorite op discord server and sometimes i just scroll up and stare at it. it’s so good. 

this entire sequence, starting from luffy law and kidd’s entrance, is probably my favorite in wano arc. it’s the turning of the sides, the daybreak after the darkest hour- these three show up, and then jinbe, and denjirou reveals his true colors and it’s revealed all the rest of the samurai left before orochi blew the bridges, and it turns out they haven’t lost a single step to kanjurou’s treachery. it just feels so good to read, after the prior hopelessness of the akazaya and the tragedy of the flashback.

i really like how the akazaya nine are absolutely ready to roast each other at any and all times. that’s how you know they’re best friends. 

i think i mentioned it back in fishman island, but one of my favorite things is the strawhats just being absolutely cheerfully, chaotically destructive. every time we get to see them wreck havoc while nonchalantly bickering with each other it puts a huge smile on my face.

i think ulti and page one are very very funny and i like their dynamic a lot, it’s a laugh riot. i also like that oda lets luffy seriously fight a woman here!! i’m serious, we don’t see enough no-holds-barred fights between men and women (conventionally attractive women, specifically) in this series, so i’m pleasantly surprised when it does happen. 

i do appreciate wano’s ability to continuously raise the “holy shit!” quotient without it ever really feeling like a twist just for the sake of the audience. like, i don’t know that anybody saw kaidou killing orochi coming, but at the same time, it feels like it does make sense, given what we know about kaidou, for him to do this.

my heart goes out to momo, honestly. he’s only eight, and in that time he’s lost his home and family and his whole world when he was thrown twenty years into the future, and he has the weight of his whole country resting on his shoulders. he’s borne up admirably under that stress, starting from zou and building up to this point.

i LOVE kin’emon’s speech to kaidou about luffy SO much. kin’emon’s come a long way from being a mostly comedy relief character in punk hazard to here, where he’s shouting down an emperor. i really like this progression- kin’emon doesn’t change, exactly, but the side of his character that is revealed in wano is very likable and admirable. it goes back to something i’ve mentioned before, about how one piece’s characters are very rarely one-dimensional.

kaidou’s dragon form is extremely cool, and so are most of the panels where it appears- it’s extremely striking, especially in panels like this, where he’s silhouetted against the moon.

i love... the ripple effects of luffy just being himself that spread throughout the world of one piece, and i think this is one of the best examples. luffy befriended coby all the way back in chapter two, mostly by accident, and now, nine hundred and some chapters later, that’s what leads to drake joining the strawhats’ side. because drake is friends with coby who says luffy is trustworthy, so when drake is stuck with nobody else to turn to, he turns to luffy. 

moments like this really reinforce just how much the world and story of one piece is built on relationships between people, and i really like that. i like that instead of necessarily being built around abstract ideals or morals, characters’ actions are, more often than not, motivated by either specific personal goals or by their relationships with other characters. it feels much more true to life.

i like the loss of kiku’s arm, because it showcases exactly how serious the fight is on both sides. it both shows that kaidou is fighting to maim and kill and do whatever it takes to win, and that the akazaya are fully prepared to take whatever he throws at them. kiku gets back up smiling after losing her arm. neither side in this fight is even close to backing down, now or ever. 

i genuinely can’t believe how long it took me to talk about yamato, so let me just say: i love him so much. part of this, i’m sure, is my personal bias towards any and all kickass queer characters, but part of it is just- he’s so cool. he’s ten feet tall and carries a club about as big as he is and tanks explosions like they’re nothing while also bickering with luffy and falling out of ceilings and generally being like... stupidly lovable. 

i just like yamato a lot. 

a thousand chapters in, and every strawhat but robin has had a moment where they declare luffy is going to be the king of the pirates, but honestly, i think nami’s might be my favorite yet. nami has always been a person who acts at a distance, not one inclined to direct confrontation and putting herself in danger-

and yet, when it comes down to it, when faced with a choice between death and disavowing her captain’s dream, even when assured by usopp that she would be fully justified in lying for her life, nami chooses luffy. even in the most dire of circumstances, all of the strawhats know luffy is going to be the king of the pirates, and none of them would ever deny it.

i kind of alluded to this back in my dressrosa post, but i really like the development of law’s new dream being discovering the meaning of the will of d. it just feels like a very good and natural progression for his character, given he’s the only holder of the will of d who we’ve been shown is consciously aware of it and what it might mean. and in general, i like seeing him having something else to work towards after doflamingo’s defeat.

i’ll end this by just saying i am so desperately curious to know what is in that book, and what yamato knows about the will of d, about the dawn of the world, about laugh tale. 

guess we’ll find out, huh?

thanks for reading through to the end!! i had a lot of fun putting these posts together, and writing them up was a really cool way to be able to compile my thoughts headed into chapter 1000 and beyond. i can’t wait to see where oda takes us next.