#theme: kiku

[koushirouizumi]

{H.O.L.I.C R.E.I} + WATANUKI & HARUKA ~ N e w Y e a r s {& Sept. 9th} (of L u n a r) / Lunisolar Calenders

+ Jinjitsu; + Chōyō (Kiku no Sekku)

{Cap by Me} (Please ASK to Use)

[beaulesbian]

Kikunojo of the Fallen Snow || episode 948 // chapter 948

also from wikia about kiku being trans:

[stirringwinds]

very messy thoughts, but i personally think there's a lot of historical potential in framing yong-soo and kiku in a senior/younger apprentice or mentor/protege dynamic too. no more 15 year old yong soo. he is like 2000 years old. the wikipedia page on korean influences on japanese culture is long as hell. i don't mean it in a "whoa korea is responsible for everything way", like absolutely not: japanese culture is its own thing, has its own indigenous traits and there is much to study about how any society actively synthesises and syncretises foreign influences the way japan did. but it's a fact that korea was the conduit for many mainland asian influences on japanese culture (including those from china) and that's something i would think should be mapped onto yong-soo and kiku's relationship. long before post-isolationist japan modelled itself on the dutch and british navies— there were the korean shipbuilders and mariners they looked to.

because when there's that longer timeframe used to imagine their dynamics, this is the modern era: 'i taught you to master the sea and much else—and you think you know better now? how dare you disrespect your teacher.' and 'yes, you may have—but alas history doesn't stand still, and others have taught me better now.'

the upending of the confucian hierarchy in the meiji era onwards isn't just between japan and china—but more than that. you really can't fully capture meiji japan without thinking about korea, when korea was one of first steps on the route of how meiji japan sought to prove it could join the (western) imperial club.

[my-plastic-life]

New doll diorama is up! This one took a while because there are lots of props, plus I had to decide on the perfect design. :D

Have you ever been to a themed cafe? They're very common in Japan, ranging from anime to video games to role play. Some are permanent, others are pop up (temporary). The interiors are always completely decorated in the theme, and the food is also designed in accordance with the theme. Most of these places also have gift shops where you can purchase exclusive items ranging from stationary to clothes to figures to plushies, all revolving around the cafe's theme. So fun!

I tend to always do things in themes, so this was right up my alley. I just knew I wanted to make my own Japanese themed cafe diorama. There is no shortage of options, but I decided on a Gudetama cafe. Gudetama is a Sanrio character, and his name literally means "lazy egg." This adorable little egg can be seen in a variety of scenarios, usually being prodded to not be lazy. It's quite amusing! I looked up actual Gudetama cafes so I could make my design as authentic as possible. Almost all of them featured bright yellow walls in a variety of patterns with huge wall decals of the star character on them. Smaller wall art was also common, and the wood floors even had a yellowish hue to them to finish off the look. Statues and figures were also prominent, so I placed a white cube shelf in the scene to hold some of my mini Gudetama items I've had for a long time (didn't even have to buy new stuff for this scene!), as well as the menus and place mats that I made. I also painted all the chairs yellow (they were originally purple) and painted the table base white (they were pink). The booth is borrowed from the Licca-chan revolving sushi set.

So here we have a group of dolls enjoying the themed goodies! All the food items are from Re-Ment, and the sets included a lot more - I just couldn't fit any more dolls in there LOL. And of course, this being Japanese themed, I had to use my Azone dolls. They're a better fit for these chairs and tables anyway since they're not as tall as Barbie, so they fit her size furniture better than she does LOL. Plus - interchangeable hands! YES!

Overview of the diorama showing all the wall art and designs:

Left plate: Curry. Right plate: Ramen.

Curry:

Ramen:

Of course ani-ME is on the dessert :D

Left plate: Cake & ice cream. Right plate: Parfait.

Cake & ice cream:

Parfait:

Left plate: Hot cakes (aka pancakes). Right plate: Kanitama (crab omelet).

Hot cakes (aka pancakes):

Kanitama (crab omelet):

Left plate: Ramen, fried egg, & salad. Right plate: Butatamadon (pork rice bowl).

Butatamadon (pork rice bowl):

Ramen, fried egg, & salad:

Cube with various Gudetama figures/merchandise, plus the menus and place mats I made:

Menu (two-sided) Fun fact: Every single item on the menu is a genuine Re-Ment Gudetama product. I don't have every set, but I included them on the menu anyway:

[franceanon]

Audio-grabbed + Clip’d by Me.

{DO NOT REPOST} {PLEASE ASK TO USE}

[aukmodu]

Kiku shares her passion for voyaging the seas.

[hauntingblue]

ACT 2 OVER LETSGOOOO

[leviathanmirror]

Dragged my feet finishing this up with Kiku. Can't wait to get hit with an ability called Nostalgia again!

[evan-collins90]

AMC Studio 30 Theatre - Houston, TX (1997)

"What the design attempts to do in the 110,000 sq. ft. space is simulate a movie studio backlot and the soundstage where guests become part of the action, and the experience "rekindles the magic and memory of movie going."

Elements from sound stages and studio road cases make up the central lobby space along with a guest service desk. Images of Hollywood's glamorous stars of the past add enchantment to the balcony walls. The space is divided into three themed areas that "transport guests into fantastic worlds of Animation, Action/Adventure and Cyberspace." The food concession stands within each area carries through the theme; "Fizz, Sizzle, Pop"; Wildebeest Feast"; and "Quantum Bits." The 30 auditoria are located off the soundstage lobby and within the various themed areas.

The architecture seems to come alive in the Animation area. The space is designed to resemble an animation cel: "flat, two-dimensional, cartoon-like graphics are outlined with black lines, filled with color and applied on an exaggerated scale." The Fizz, Sizzle, Pop concession's identity and blimp directional signs seem to float in a blue sky with flat, cut-out clouds. The setting for Action/ Adventure recalls a rainforest with heavy hanging leaves, bamboo and rock "carved" directional signs. The custom wall covering features petroglyphs of cave people carrying popcorn, megaphones and movie cameras. The fiber optic eyes peering from behind the leaves in the Wildebeest Feast stand change color. They also appear above rock outcroppings down the corridor. Patrons are invited to explore an abstract, futuristic world in Cyberspace where the floor and ceiling are the same color and brushed aluminum columns rise partway to the ceiling. To create the illusion of "endless space." custom light fixtures project beams of light along the walls and backlit graphic images have neon edges. Various colored lights and a high-tech fluorescent green/orange acrylic sign help to define the Quantum Bits concession area in Cyberspace."

Designed by Kiku Obata & Co.

Scanned from the book, Entertainment Destinations by Martin Pegler (2000)

[tanuki-kimono]

Comfy seasonal outfit, pairing a quiet two-toned kimono with a modern Christmas-themed obi.

The main focal is the haori with very classy kikkô (stylized turtle shell) pattern, the bigger shells inlaid with kiku (chrysanthemum).

[crimson-kisses]

彼岸花

Characters/fandoms/pairings: Yandere! Honda Kiku || Japan [Hetalia] x F! Reader.

Warning: This story will contain explicit yandere themes, proceed with caution [includes mentions of graphic violence and implied stalking]

Author's note: this idea for a short drabble had been on my mind for days after seeing this yandere japan fanart by @purplemistbutterfly and I just had to write it. Wc- 4, 557.

Also, remember that lot has been going around the world lately, try to educate yourself and contribute as much as you can.

The glow of neon lights wrapped around you like a comforting embrace as you lounged on a plush sofa, the strains of your own recordings playing softly in the background. Each note echoed through the modest bar, creating a dreamy atmosphere that felt almost otherworldly. The chandelier flickered, casting delicate colors across the room, and for a moment, you felt suspended in a haze, as if the world around you had faded away.

In the background, the clinking of glasses and the soft murmur of conversation filled the air. A waitress, young and diligent, bustled about, balancing trays of drinks with practiced grace, exchanging light banter with the bartender, who was busy mixing cocktails. Their laughter mingled with the music, a gentle reminder of the life that pulsed through the club as it prepared for the evening rush.

With a soft sigh, you swung your legs off the sofa, the hem of your dress swirling around you for an instant. The sharp click of your heels against the floor grounded you, pulling you back into the moment.

You absentmindedly twirled a strand of your hair around your fingers, a pang of longing washing over you. How you wished you could sing forever—such a melodramatic thought, you mused.

Just then, a waitress removed the ashtray from the coffee table, her movements graceful. She caught your eye and offered a warm smile, one that reflected the admiration so many in this lively city had for you. Young yet industrious, she, like others, found joy in your performances, and their support felt like a quiet reminder of your modest fame.

It was the perfect balance—enough recognition to feel appreciated, yet not so much that it became overwhelming. You cherished this intimate space, where your talent was seen and valued, untainted by the harsh demands of larger stages.

With a roll of your shoulders, you decided to freshen up. You applied a light layer of makeup, your dress—a flowing creation with delicate crow motifs—draped around your legs. The fabric shifted with each subtle movement, catching the light in a way that made the motifs seem alive.

You slipped on your heels and styled your hair with careful hands, confident in your skill, the way you always did before a performance. After sending away the helpful crew who insisted on doing it for you, you prepared to step into the night, ready to captivate once more.

The stage shimmered like a midnight sky, lit with soft, silvery lights that twinkled like distant stars. You felt like a solitary bird, singing a lullaby that might go unheard by the vastness of the world, yet here, every note held significance. The melody flowed from your lips, soft and effortless, as your body swayed gently to the rhythm.

The rest of the world faded away, leaving just you, the music, and the connection with those who listened. It was ironic, really—this was when most eyes were on you, and yet you felt as though you were suspended in a private world of your own making.

The audience was a mix of familiar faces and newcomers, all drawn in by the magic you created on stage. Among them were well-dressed gentlemen, some leaning back with arms crossed, others inching forward, their eyes following your every move with intrigued intensity. Nearby, women whispered excitedly, their giggles escaping as they listened. Business elites, seeking respite from the fast-paced world outside, sat quietly, their faces softening as they allowed themselves to relax, appreciating the intimacy of this setting over the grandeur of larger performances.

At other tables, university students exchanged glances between sips of their drinks, entranced by your voice, some even whispering your name as though they’d stumbled upon a secret treasure. Local workers, still in their uniforms, unwound from their long shifts, leaning back in their chairs with drinks in hand, their faces softened with quiet smiles as your melody soothed their weary souls.

In the background, the diligent staff moved seamlessly through the space, balancing trays of drinks, refilling glasses, and clearing tables. The bartender, a seasoned expert with quick hands, mixed cocktails with the precision of an artist, casting the occasional glance toward the stage, a faint smile always tugging at his lips. The waitstaff worked with a rhythm of their own, exchanging light banter with regulars and newcomers alike.

They were your quiet champions, always turning down the big offers from record companies that sought to pull you into the commercialized world of fame. They knew, as you did, that this setting was where you truly wished to be.

Your performance was more than just a routine; it was an extension of yourself, a moment of vulnerability wrapped in music. The spotlight gently framed your figure, casting a soft glow that danced with the notes as they escaped your lips. Your hands lifted, almost as if guiding the melody itself, and for those moments on stage, nothing else mattered.

The sway of your dress, adorned with delicate crow motifs, moved like shadows across the floor, adding an air of mystery to your presence.

And though you weren’t chasing the grandeur of fame, there was a certain power in these performances. The connection you felt with the audience—each gaze, each whisper of your name—made you feel seen in ways that the glare of the public eye never could.

You weren’t a star striving to shine in the vastness of the sky; you were the moon casting light over an enchanted crowd, and in this bar, in this moment, that was enough.

What you didn’t notice was the quiet presence lingering at the edge of the room, like a shadow among the warm glow of lights. Hidden in the dim corners, a pair of dark, inscrutable eyes watched you—deep and unfathomable, reminiscent of still waters reflecting a moonlit sky.

His gaze followed your every movement, simmering with an adoration that burned slowly, as insidious as poison, blending seamlessly with the night. And just before you left the stage, he muttered softly to himself, barely audible over the music,

“カラスは…これから来るものの前兆だ��”

His lips curled into a subtle, unsettling smile, as though the omen had already taken root.

“ダーリン。”

════════════════════════════

It was a spur-of-the-moment decision when Feliciano had eagerly dragged Kiku out of the house, his voice embarrassingly loud in front of everyone. With excitement gleaming in his eyes, he insisted that Kiku join him at a nearby bar, one he claimed had a cozy atmosphere. 

He went on about the drinks, the people, and especially the woman there whose voice he described as angelic, able to make anyone forget their troubles. Kiku raised an eyebrow—he knew Feliciano, and any woman could be deemed an angel in his eyes, so he wasn’t sure whether anyone could truly live up to that praise.

Despite his reluctance, Kiku followed, feeling a mixture of resignation and annoyance. The last thing he wanted was to be dragged out like this, especially for something so undignified. He could already imagine the kind of chaos Feliciano would create in such a quiet setting.

As they entered the bar, Kiku sighed. The warm lighting and low hum of conversation created a peaceful atmosphere, but he wasn’t impressed. His eyes scanned the room, seeking something of interest to distract himself. That’s when he spotted Ludwig across the room.

Ludwig was seated at a table, his gaze fixed intently on a brunette in a maid outfit who was laughing with a group of friends. Kiku noted how serious Ludwig appeared, his focus unwavering as he studied her every move with an almost unsettling intensity. When their eyes met, Ludwig gave him a brief nod, which Kiku returned with a slight bow. It was typical of Ludwig to maintain such seriousness, even in a casual setting.

Next to Ludwig sat Francis, effortlessly charming a group of businesswomen with his smooth foreign accent. His laughter filled the air easily, a stark contrast to Ludwig’s quiet intensity. Kiku watched the scene with mild amusement. It was familiar, but somehow still entertaining to see Francis working his charm.

Feliciano, oblivious to the dynamics of the group, continued to rave about the bar’s ambiance. Kiku couldn’t decide whether to laugh or sigh. Maybe there was something to enjoy in this unexpected gathering of familiar faces, but he wasn’t convinced.

Then the music began.

A soft, haunting melody slowly rose, weaving through the air like a gentle current, filling the space around them. Kiku, sinking into his seat in one of the private booths, instinctively turned his focus toward the sound. The bar was cozy, the conversation still flowing around him, but it was the music that truly drew him in.

He glanced toward Ludwig again, who seemed to have relaxed a little, a few drinks in, with the brunette now sitting on his lap. Despite the change in posture, the intensity in Ludwig’s gaze remained. Kiku shifted his focus back to the music, feeling the soft notes caress the air. Despite their slow pace, they held power, quieting the noise in his mind.

The voice that accompanied the melody was captivating—rich, smooth, hypnotic. It settled into Kiku’s chest, making his thoughts slow and his senses sharpen. The world around him dimmed as he focused only on the sound, letting the voice wrap around him like a spell. For a brief moment, he forgot where he was, lost to the music.

As the notes filled him, something shifted inside, like a spark igniting in the stillness of his chest. An unfamiliar hunger stirred—dangerous, intoxicating. The voice, the melody—it awoke something deep within him, something he hadn’t been prepared to feel.

Kiku found himself utterly fixated. His usual caution and restraint were slipping away as the voice continued to draw him in. He couldn’t tear his attention away, lost in the depth of it, as if everything else faded into the background.

From that night on, he couldn’t stop thinking about you. He watched you from afar, noting the softness in your manner, the strength in your resolve. You were kind, diligent, and full of quiet grace, drawing him in further with each passing day.

Kiku, always careful, had never allowed himself to indulge in such obsession, but now, something darker began to take hold. He hired someone to hack into your devices, learning your secrets, uncovering the hidden corners of your life. Each discovery only deepened his infatuation.

You lived simply, but there was an undeniable elegance in everything you did. Each morning, you made matcha tea, savoring it slowly as you tended to your modest garden. Cherry blossoms swayed gently in the breeze, chrysanthemums bloomed in vibrant bursts, and bonsai trees stood carefully pruned, each one a testament to your patience.

You had a quiet generosity too—leaving bowls of rice or fish out for the stray cats that wandered into your yard, a small act of kindness that you believed brought good fortune. He watched, fascinated by the peace you found in these little rituals.

In the afternoons, you volunteered at the local community center, helping the elderly with their daily tasks. You prepared sweet treats like mochi and dorayaki, listening to their stories, sharing in their wisdom. You were always engaged, always giving, connecting deeply with the community around you.

And when the seasonal festivals came around, you danced with your neighbors, laughed with friends, and participated in the celebrations that honored yourself. The kindness you spread was subtle but powerful, a thread that tied you to the people around you. To him.

Kiku couldn't stop watching, couldn't stop learning more about you. You were everywhere he looked—your life, your kindness, your quiet grace—it all consumed him, filling the space in his mind, until it became impossible to ignore.

════════════════════════════

"生一緒にいたい"

He repeated it over and over, the words slipping past his lips like a prayer, each time more fervently, each time more desperate. The phrase carved itself into his soul, filling the hollow space within him.

"私のもの…"

His eyes never strayed from you, not once. Always from the shadows, always watching. You didn’t notice him—never did. But he noticed everything. Every little movement you made. Every soft laugh that danced in the air. Each smile was like a dagger of desire. You were his. Only his.

"全てが私のものになる…"

He knew everything about you. The way your hair curled just right, the way your fingers brushed your lips in that nervous habit. The smallest details—details only he could see. He whispered your name to himself, savoring it, imagining the life you would share together, locked away from the world. Just the two of you.

"絶対に、君を失わない…"

Kiku's gaze was unwavering. You were everywhere. In the streets you walked, in the quiet little coffee shop you adored, in the park where you sat with that innocent, too-perfect smile. Everything was etched in his memory. Every single place, every single moment. He would wait. He would wait until you understood—until you realized that the only place you could ever belong was with him. Alone. Together.

“永遠に”

He loved you. More than love—it had become an obsession. A consuming, all-encompassing thing. Each little piece of your life, each small revelation only fanned the flames. How could someone so perfect exist? So effortlessly beautiful, so kind? You were everything he had longed for, everything he needed, and the thought of losing you was unbearable. His thoughts of you filled his every moment, his longing growing, desperate, never-ending.

He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect.

He loved you. He couldn’t lose you. You were perfect. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect.

He loved you. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect. He loved you. You were perfect.

He couldn’t lose you. No. He wouldn’t lose you. Yes. He shouldn’t lose you. You were one of a kind.

Each day passed as if he were observing a film he had forgotten to look over from long ago.

Kiku had fallen deep in love with you. Everything he did was for you. In his mind, there was no difference between love and possession. You were the one thing he could never let go, the one thing that would make him whole.

And when that moment came—he would make sure there was no escape.

════════════════════════════

He had been attending every one of your performances, without fail. No matter the venue—whether it was an intimate gathering or an art house event tucked away from prying eyes—he always found his way there. He relished the exclusivity, the idea that only a select few could appreciate your art. To him, it was magnificent, and every second spent watching you felt sacred.

Soon, your shows became the highlight of his life. He rescheduled meetings, canceled national duties, all to linger in the shadows of your presence. Even during the most critical discussions, his mind often wandered. Politically important matters, ceremonies, decisions—they all paled compared to thoughts of you. Your voice, the arch of your hands, the grace you exuded—it consumed him.

The first time he approached you, you blushed under his gaze, avoiding his eyes as if overwhelmed. That small flicker of vulnerability stayed with him, replaying in his mind, each time more vivid than the last.

Watching you became a ritual, a sacred act. He sent small, thoughtful gifts—flowers from distant lands, hand-written letters, packages left at your door. He wanted you to feel seen, cherished, even if his gestures sometimes unsettled you. He even started bringing trusted officials and friends to witness your art. He wanted to show you off, to see their awe, as they recognized what he had come to adore.

But the closer he tried to get, the more distant you became. You had gently expressed discomfort with his gifts and appearances. His heart sank. That quiet rejection cut deeper than he’d anticipated. He called to you, begged you to reconsider, but you never wavered. Slowly, imperceptibly, you slipped from his grasp.

With every step you took away, his longing grew. Each polite refusal, each avoidance felt like a door closing. He told himself it was just a phase, that you would understand eventually. But time passed, and that hope began to fade, replaced by an aching frustration. How could you pull away from something so sincere? How could you not see how deeply he adored you? Did you truly believe you could escape?

“いや…いや...いや...いや...

いや! いや! いや!, いや!”

════════════════════════════

When he learned you’d be performing for a private group of university graduates, a spark of jealousy ignited deep within him. His jaw clenched as he imagined those men—laughing, cheering, acting as if they truly understood the value of what you offered.

How could they? They weren’t worthy of sharing the same room with you, let alone witnessing you in such an intimate setting. The thought of it, the idea of them being so close, felt like an intrusion into the sanctity he had carefully built around you.

He couldn't let it go. He had to be there. No matter what, nothing could stop him.

He slipped into the crowd unnoticed, taking refuge in a shadowed corner. His eyes never left you. Every movement you made, every gesture, was recorded in his mind. The group of graduates, so self-assured and too eager, didn’t know their place. They had no right to be near you.

He observed them as they settled, talking amongst themselves, casting glances in your direction. Their words grew louder, and Kiku’s grip on his calm began to slip. One man leaned over to his friend with a grin, eyes scanning you up and down. “I bet she’s just as beautiful up close, don’t you think?”

The other chuckled, clearly amused. “I wouldn’t mind finding out.”

The laughter that followed made Kiku’s chest tighten. They were nothing but animals, trying to mark their territory, and you were the prize they sought. But it didn’t stop there. As the evening went on, the men grew bolder. One of them, emboldened by a drink, approached you during a brief break in the performance. He placed his hand on your shoulder with too much familiarity, leaning in too close.

“Such a shame," he said, eyes glinting. "A woman with so much talent, and yet so few people to truly appreciate it." He let his hand linger just a moment too long, his thumb brushing against the back of your neck.

You recoiled slightly, discomfort flashing across your face, but you smiled politely. "Please, I'm fine," you said, your tone steady though Kiku could see the slight tension in your shoulders. "Please refrain."

The man smirked, taking your response as an invitation to press further. “You sure? You’re not one of those shy types, are you?”

You took a step back, holding your composure, but it was too much for Kiku. His pulse quickened. The tightness in his chest grew unbearable. He watched as the others, noticing the scene, began to snicker, sharing looks that made his blood boil. These men didn’t just admire you—they were treating you like an object, their entitled hands and crude remarks making his skin burn.

Kiku’s fists clenched, his breath shallow. His eyes locked onto the man’s hand, still resting on you, his touch inappropriate, invasive. A surge of fury coursed through him. How dare they think they could touch you? How dare they think they had any right to make you feel uncomfortable in any way?

The night had begun to unravel, and so had his patience.

The laughter continued to echo in his ears, mingling with the murmur of the crowd. But Kiku’s gaze remained steady, fixed on the men who dared to ruin this moment. He would let them think they were in control, that this was their night. But they had no idea what they had provoked.

He leaned slightly forward, lips curving into a cold smile. There were consequences. And they didn't even see it coming.

Not like he could help it. The thread had snapped, like the final stroke of a katana slicing through the air, severing the restraint he had so carefully maintained. The fire surged through his veins, fierce and unrelenting, as if Kagutsuchi, the god of flames himself, had set his soul alight. It consumed him—body, mind, and spirit—filling every corner of his being with an overwhelming heat, a rage that pulsed with ancient power.

His hand found the knife on the nearby table. The cold steel felt almost... familiar, as though it had been waiting for him, as if it were an extension of his own will. He raised the blade, the glint of metal flashing like the edge of a sword under moonlight, reflecting the fire now burning in his eyes. With each step toward them, he moved like a shadow, swift and decisive.

At this moment, nothing else mattered.

The first slash was quick, clean, and almost too easy. Blood splattered, painting the floor in red streaks, but Kiku didn’t care. The crimson stain of their lives was nothing compared to the purity of his desire. The warm, thick liquid sprayed across the room like the petals of a sakura in full bloom—scattered and gone in an instant, yet forever marking the earth beneath.

The thought of their hands on you, those impure hands, tainted him to his core. Their very existence had defiled something sacred. His heart thudded in his chest, a rhythmic pulse amid the chaos, his breath quick and uneven. How dare they even think of you like that?

Five of them. Five arrogant, filthy students, too blind to realize their actions, would cost them everything. He couldn’t let them live. Not after what they had tried to do.

“許せない、許せない、どうして…どうして君に触れた?”

The second slash came faster than the first, cutting down one of them as he collapsed to the floor, lifeless. Blood sprayed in a violent arc, mingling with their screams and desperate pleas. Kiku’s rage burned hotter, unstoppable now. They scrambled to escape, but it was too late. Another slash. Another life snuffed out in an instant.

He moved through them like a shadow, his strikes swift and merciless, as precise as death itself. They couldn’t escape. They shouldn’t have touched you. Their blood splattered across the floor, and it felt almost... cathartic.

The fourth one—a desperate, shaking figure—reached for the door in vain. Kiku closed in, catching him in an iron grip. A swift slash across the throat, and he crumpled to the ground, lifeless, joining the others.

And then there was just one. The last student. Kiku walked toward him slowly, savoring the terror in his eyes, the hopelessness settling in as he realized there was no escape. His apologies fell on deaf ears; his words were useless. They meant nothing now—not when they had tormented so many others before they tried to harm you.

The final slash was quick, precise, and the last of the five fell without a sound. Kiku stood amidst the carnage, breathing heavily, the knife still dripping with their blood. Silence enveloped the room, broken only by the steady drip of blood hitting the floor.

He didn’t care about the consequences, didn’t care that he had taken their lives with his own hands. What mattered now was that they would never touch you again.

You were his. And no one, not a single soul, could take that away from him.

════════════════════════════

The knife slipped from Kiku’s fingers, clattering to the floor with a metallic thud, but he hardly noticed. His chest rose and fell, breath coming faster, as his gaze found you.

You.

Your figure trembled in the dim light, and in his eyes, you were like a spider lily in full bloom, a beautiful apparition drenched in red. Crimson painted you in streaks, trails of black running down your cheeks as you watched him, wide-eyed and tear-streaked, a delicate petal shaken by the storm.

Kiku’s breathing stopped, his heart halting in his chest as his world narrowed to you, only you. He was so close, close enough to catch the faint shiver in your frame, close enough to see the tears glistening in your eyes. It was intoxicating, a sight more beautiful than anything he had ever witnessed in his endless lifetime.

His fingers twitched, aching to reach for you, to trace those stains of red like brushstrokes on silk. You, trembling before him, so perfect, so untouched by anyone else’s taint—now his. His alone.

A slow, almost reverent exhale escaped his lips. No other nation, no other woman had ever sparked this feeling in him. In centuries of existence, through wars and alliances, through lifetimes of encounters, he had never felt this pull, this ache, until you.

The feeling was ancient, relentless, filling the depths of his soul like the tides. He had wanted many things, fought for many things, but this… this was different. A possession he had claimed, yet one he longed to cherish, to hold, to keep forever close.

He took a step forward, then another, as if entranced, his heartbeat finally catching up to the flood of emotions overwhelming him. You were his. And no one—no force, no man, no fate— would or could take that away.

His fingers brushed against the red phone in his pocket, pulling it out with a deliberate slowness. A dark smile curled on his lips as he held it up, his gaze never leaving you. His eyes traced every inch of your form, as if committing you to memory. His black suit was stained with crimson, the blood that had spilled from the chaos now forgotten, its significance drowned in the quiet tension between you.

The phone’s screen lit up, and with it, the soft click of the camera captured the moment. Another flash. The light illuminated your face, your trembling form, and your wide, fearful eyes. Kiku could almost taste the fear in the air, and he relished it, savoring every second.

You lay there, weak and trembling, your body unwilling to move but your mind screaming for escape. The dress you wore—delicate, lace-trimmed, a soft shade of pale pink—clung to your form, stained now with the same blood that marked his hands. It was a stark contrast to the nightmare unfolding around you.

Kiku’s smile remained serene, calm in a way that made your heart race, as if nothing were wrong. He stepped closer, each movement deliberate, slow, savoring the moment. The room was heavy with silence, your breathing the only sound filling the space. The blood spattered across his face, and yet his expression remained as composed as ever, as if this was some twisted art he was admiring.

"言ってみろ。もう二度と逃げないと言いな,"

Kiku whispered softly, his voice smooth, almost tender, but laced with an authority, a threat, a plea, a promise.

Say it. Say you'll never run away again.

You couldn’t speak. You couldn’t even move. Fear had paralyzed you, and his gaze held you captive, making it impossible to tear your eyes away. Every instinct screamed for you to fight, to flee, but there was no escape. You were trapped in his world.

Kiku’s fingers pressed down on the phone’s screen one last time. Another flash. The light lingered, and in that brief moment, you saw the truth: he had captured you. Not just your image, but something deeper, something irreversible. You could never escape now. You were his.

And in that flash, it was sealed.

Forever.

[eand47]

The Legend of the Seven Seas | Masterlist

Started: 29.12.2024 Finished: Last Update: 29.12.2024

Summary: The Book of Peace - an ancient book which protects the twelve cities. Stored in the highest tower in the city of Syracuse, the book stands untouched as Prince Sabo brought it home. The prosperity it brings to humanity made it a target to the Goddess of discord Eris, who intends to bring chaos to the people of the twelve cities by making a deal with the famous pirate Portgas D Ace to steal it.

“You're not thinking big enough, Ace. Steal the book for ransom and you can be rich enough to lounge on the beach of a tropical island. Steal it for me, and you can buy the beach. And the island. And the world.” Said Eris, her voice sultry as she passed by Ace, fingers brushing his face.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female) & Eris - Goddess of Discord

Supporting characters: Luffy, Sabo, Marco, Thatch, Izo, Kiku, Whitebeard

Description: This story is entirely based on 'Sinbad: The Legend of the Seven Seas'! Of course I will add my own touch to it and things that are not part of the film, but still it will be following the animation storyline. A lot of lines that I liked from the movie will be included in the dialogue as well.

WARNINGS: explicit language, descriptions of violence, 18+ only, contains explicit sexual themes and content, use of alcohol, implied injury, slow burn, illegal activities, conflicted feelings, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, jealousy, suggestive themes, violence, mentions of monsters. (+ every chapter has it own warnings)

Chapter I | A word of a Goddess

Chapter II | coming soon…

writing, format, header & dividers © eand47 ©eand47, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[hwsing]

overstimulation

notes: 18+, reader is afab and gender neutral. includes: germany (ludwig beilschmidt), japan (kiku honda). as always, reblogs are appreciated!

cw: dom/sub themes; vibrator (ludwig); bondage (ludwig); electrodes (ludwig); wax play (kiku)

☆ ludwig

in what ways would ludwig not overstimulate you? to say he has a curious mind is an understatement — he has thought about so many scenarios, all of which end up with you practically brain dead — albeit hesitant and even shy, he would never have a shortage of methods on how to overwhelm you.

he can feel his palms sweat as he spreads your thighs — his eyes trail up your body, watching intently as the pads of the electrodes send shocks against your nipples. quiet, pitchy whines catch in your throat every time, and it catches his attention; his gaze meets yours, and he swallows thickly at the sight. your brows are pinched and you look like you’re trying — and failing — to stay quiet, to stay composed. he wants nothing more than to see you lose yourself.

“relax, liebling.” he says compellingly. despite his soft tone, there is an underlying of sternness — it was a command. his hands, stronger than you could ever begin to imagine, move your knees to rest on his shoulders as he looks down at your fluttering cunt. you were tied by your wrists attached to the bedposts. and, you were already nearly soaked to the bone; he would never dare underprep you. he knew the stretch of his cock was enough to have you gasping and digging your nails down the line of his spine. he already spent what felt like a century with a vibrator against your clit, and it was for that reason he was able to push into you with such ease, gripping your hips as your needy pussy sucks him in; you moan loudly, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. you look at him, and even now as he controls the pace, his reddened face betrayed him — his expression wouldn’t say so, but he could feel how he struggled, just as you do.

as much as ludwig was a man who preached patience, it wasn’t long before his hips slammed against yours, feeling overwhelmed at how overwhelmed you were. you looked pathetic beneath him, left only with the option to submit to the feeling of his cock plumping relentlessly into you and the literal shocks zapping against your chest. his cock twitched inside you, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to last long as you fought against your binds and cried, back arching almost impossibly into him. he’d take care of you — of course he would; his attention and devotion was completely forfeited to you as you allowed him to fuck you like this.

☆ kiku

he has experience in the human body’s limits — just not as personal, or intimate, as this calls for. still, kiku can’t help but wonder how you would handle scenarios that would test you; and, as the pathetic loser he is, he has seen his fair share of porn and has likely tried this before. still, he wants to see you, and your skin — and how the both of you handle things.

he kindly let you relax, sitting between your legs; he told you to stay as still as you could, and you agreed — but now, as you watched him angle the candle above you, you weren’t so sure you could. his other hand was busy inside you, softly rubbing against your velvety walls with precision while his thumb worked circles against your clit. he had already made you cum twice — he wanted for the wax to almost startle your dazed body. you already imagined how it might feel — and when it finally came, you couldn’t help but involuntarily flinch. the wax was almost painfully hot against your bare skin, and you took a shallow breath.

“did that hurt?” he asks, almost plainly as his dark eyes flickered up to look at you; you swallow and you hesitate on what to say. his fingers never stop, even as he stares. the heat of the wax came again, seeming even hotter this time, and you shook your head no as you did you best not to squirm. all kiku did was hum quietly in acknowledgment, looking to the wax now littering your skin. your soft moans at the contact had him feeling rock solid in his pants, but that wasn’t really on his mind now — he only focused on you.

you tilt your head back, panting through quieted moans as the wax continues to drip onto your pliable skin. your brain felt foggy as a knot tangled in your lower stomach — the burn of the wax had distracted you from what was, up until now, dull pleasure building inside you. ever observant, kiku’s thumb pressed firmer against your clit, and your legs nearly kicked out. your hole clenched around his fingers, and soon enough another orgasm was rippling through you — it lasted longer than usual as he worked you through it, a satisfied smile tugged at his lips. that didn’t mean he was done, though — no, no. he only just brought the wax out, after all!

[stirringwinds]

are there certain visual themes or imagery you yourself particularly associate with yao as an artist or writer? i'm trying to visualize the nations better...

hmmm, interesting question. i like incorporating nature imagery into the hetalias, especially old nations like yao. there's something mythical and compelling about the sense of age and vastness that evokes. these are some (non-exhaustive) thoughts i've had:

a. i always associate yao with rivers and water; the Yellow River in particular, which is often seen as the "cradle" of Chinese civilisation (but of course, there's also the Yangtze, and the Pearl River too). rivers are life-giving but also untameable, powerful and dangerous—the Yellow River's fertile silt birthed agriculture and civilisation, but its destructive floods have claimed uncounted lives over the millennia of Chinese history. and...that's kind of how yao is, as a nation and an empire, towards others of their kind. the source of cultural and artistic innovations, but also death. water can be fluid, life-giving and nurturing, but also as treacherous as a torrential flood sweeping everything away, no?

like the Yellow River's relationship with humanity, yao's impact on world history feels to me like this duality of life and death; peace and warfare; mentor, empire, conqueror... it's like, yao's been a teacher to many others but...i don't think their predominant image of him is as a warm and nurturing figure. maybe more so with his own people, but less so with other nations. being the old warlord he is, he'd say certain things very matter-of-factly (especially to yong-soo and kiku), about how power is the only language their kind universally understands, or about history being written by the victors (when we consider how the only surviving written sources about certain periods of asian history are only chinese ones...), inasmuch he'd talk about the importance of confucian virtue, integrity and humility on other occasions.

b. for obvious reasons; dragons—they and rivers both have that overlapping association of being serpentine, powerful and untameable. in contrast to how european dragons often took on villainous roles and were harbingers of disaster, it's important to note chinese dragons usually have far more positive cultural connotations. they symbolise prosperity, fortune and are guardians; often associated with power over water (so again; Yao and rivers and water.) many dragons are associated with a particular river or sea. they're also believed to have powers over the weather and were often prayed to. after all, the capriciousness of the rains ruled people's lives so much through natural disasters or made a difference between a bountiful harvest and a famine. so, i think at various points in history his people might also have understood him as a literal dragon (spirit/deity) walking around in a human guise. dragons are also a visual staple of chinese culture, from statues to jewellery. at the same time: while they're auspicious symbols—dragons can of course have aggressive and far less benign connotations if we consider how they became symbols of the emperor—and thus chinese imperial power and dominion over others. he evokes majesty, but also dread from that perspective.

c. plum blossoms: much like the sakura in japanese culture, plum blossoms are one beloved motif you'll see showing up in chinese art and literature throughout history. they're elegant and ethereal, also a symbol of both transience and renewal in a way, i'd say—their blossoms wither and die, but they come back each year. there's also that saying about how without a bitter cold, you won't have the sweet fragrance of plum blossoms, because they start blooming in winter. that's...very yao to me. china, as an idea, makes me think of a lot of elegant and refined traditional culture (like poetry or paintings) which plum blossoms recall—but i also think of humbler themes—the simpler idea of someone and something who is enduring, adaptable and resilient. who endures the harshest weather time and time again until spring arrives, the way my (peasant) ancestors probably did, carving their way through all the hardships of chinese history. yao might appear refined in an indulgent, wealthy way when he's dressed in his finest silk hanfu or a smart western suit in the modern day—but if you shake his hand, his palms are always callused and you can just see the weight (and hard-won experience) of centuries in his gaze.

[crowdusk]

One Piece Chapter 1132: Adventure in Elbaph (thoughts & predictions for the arc)

Part 1 here.

Lessons in strength  

I also think strength is going to be one of the biggest themes in this arc. We’re in the final saga, and although we know Oda’s not interested in writing a typical shonen with a lot of fighting, it’s sort of inevitable that the final war will be, well, a war. The Strawhats are going to be up against some formidable enemies – from the Marines to the Elders and the Holy Knights – so it only makes sense that they need to be able to hold their own in battle. We’ve just had an arc where we saw them struggle against the Five Elders, even with DorryBrogy and their crew’s help, so I expect there will be some growth necessary before those final showdowns. Of course they get stronger every arc, but I think this one will make that quite explicit. And where better to develop strength than the ancient island of Elbaph, and a country of proud fighters that, as Loki said, once lived and breathed warfare? 

More specifically, though, I think this arc will look at definitions of strength. What does strength mean? How do we define it? What is it important for? One piece and the Strawhats have already answered these questions, but I believe Elbaph will take it further. In light of Gear 5, we see that the true definition of Luffy’s strength is not simply physical, but creative – how much can he break free of expectations, play, and imagine? Gear 5 Luffy does not follow the rules of reality, and this is crucial. The reality of the One Piece world is dire, as it is – people oppressed by the power-hungry and so-called gods, isolated from one another by geography, targeted by bigotry. The task is to refuse this reality, and break it to make a new one. 

Like many readers, I’ve been waiting to see a lot of growth from Usopp in particular, during this arc. Of course that’s because his dream is so tied to Elbaph, but let's get into more detail. Usopp is never going to be an inhumanely strong fighter like Zoro (no matter what the powerscalers say and expect). He isn’t supposed to be! That isn’t his strength! That’s not why we and his crew love him. Usopp’s strength is in bravely facing down his fears every single day, as a normal guy who doesn’t have extraordinary physical prowess. Usopp’s strength is that he believes, and he tries, and he fights with his whole heart for what he cares about. He inspires other people with his stories, and his words are powerful. As we know, stories are so important in the One Piece world (Skypiea was a whole arc related to a story most famous for being a huge lie!). I could say a lot more about Usopp but I won’t here because this is already long enough, but he is first and foremost human, compassionate, creative, and imaginative. He keeps trying for himself and his friends, regardless of not having the lofty dreams of some of his crewmates. That’s why Luffy liked him and recruited him. It would go against his whole character for him to have some kind of sudden wild power-up like I’ve seen people expect. 

Rather, his journey is about him reckoning with himself around what it truly means to be a brave warrior of the sea, because ultimately only he can define that for himself. I think he was first inspired by Dorry and Brogy, but that he might well find that he can’t simply follow the Elbaph codes to the book to achieve his dream. In Wano, we saw that Usopp was particularly upset with the samurai’s values when Kin’emon and Kiku were prepared to die in Onigashima because he strongly disagreed that it was right for them to “take responsibility” by throwing their lives away, proclaiming that he would rather “cling to life with snot running from [his] nose.” I don’t expect the dynamic to be the same in Elbaph, since of course he deeply idolises the giants and has a much different relationship with them. However, I think his path this arc is going to be one of taking what works for him in terms of being courageous and confident in his abilities, while also realising that he already is brave and can be strong on his own terms using his specific skills (long-distance precision sniping, surprise attacks, storytelling and playing with reality using his intelligence as we saw in Thriller Bark). He’ll develop his fighting abilities (observation haki, maybe get some cool new plants from the Elbaph jungle) but most importantly develop confidence, and understand the power of his words in battle (see: becoming God Usopp in Dressrosa). Incidentally, I fully believe we will see him leading 8,000 men some day – not because he’s some overpowered fighter, but because people are drawn to his speaking. 

On the opposite end of things, I think we’re also going to see Zoro go through an important learning curve. Clearly, the swordsman is not in a great headspace. He literally saw Death in Wano and it freaked him out despite him always proclaiming he has no fear. He was then off his game in Egghead, leading to him clearly repressing his feelings of fear and guilt afterwards (see: him calling Luffy pathetic for being upset they lost Stella). Something’s off with him and he’s trying to hold it together, but I’m hoping Elbaph might just burst his dam of inner anxiety. As we know, Zoro’s whole thing is strength – being strong enough to become the best swordsman in the world, being strong enough to protect his crewmates and make Luffy the Pirate King. He takes that responsibility incredibly seriously, to the point of being much too hard on himself and his body. 

Zoro needs to learn a parallel lesson to Usopp – that the expectations he places on himself as a fighter and protector cannot be too rigid and extreme, or they become self-destructive. Prioritising the values of honour and strength can help you grow, but they can just as easily become chains holding you back. We know that’s not what Luffy wants or expects – the Pirate King’s crew should be free! That’s why I really think we need to see Zoro cut himself some slack and remember to rely on others. Being obsessed with individual strength is unhealthy, and may well cause more damage than good in the end. Mihawk is a good example of that – he’s the strongest swordsman in the world, but he’s completely alone. What did he sacrifice for his throne, and was it worth it? 

I would love to see Zoro in Elbaph finally allow himself some vulnerability, ask for help, stop repressing his emotions and work with others instead of fixating on simply training to an extreme level. I want to see him get over his ego a little (or a lot). Unfortunately, knowing how stubborn he is, this lesson may need to be learned through some kind of painful experience. Don’t get me wrong, I say this from a place of so much love for Zoro. It’s difficult to see him be so closed off and hard on himself, as much as I understand where it comes from. So if events on Elbaph lead him to have to face all the fear and emotions he’s not dealing with, I think it will only make him a stronger and more resilient fighter. This could very well be Zoro having to deal with the promise he made to Sanji and realising he can’t take on that responsibility alone, nor would the other crewmembers want him to. Or, maybe that impossible choice would help him understand that he isn’t just an emotionless fighting machine – that what powers his strength is his dedication and love for his friends in the way that it is for all the Strawhats.  

What I would also really like to see out of Zoro’s development is more teamwork with Sanji, since they mirror each other’s growth (with Sanji currently going through his own mutation-related changes) and need to work together as the wings of the Pirate King. Of course that doesn’t mean they’re always going to fight as a team, but I can imagine that they might need to against particularly tough enemies. I do think whatever happens with the promise, they will come out of it stronger (if maybe traumatised) somehow. Oda’s cheesy – he loves demonstrating the power of friendship and deep love. We saw that in Egghead with Kuma protecting Bonney against all odds. Kuma, like Nika and Joyboy, essentially broke reality and science because he loved his daughter so much. One Piece is just that kind of story. Plus, the whole point of Sanji and Zoro being Luffy’s wings is that they reflect each other perfectly, and they are at their most powerful when they work in sync, balancing out each other’s strengths and weaknesses. Sanji is too driven by emotion, with that balance currently changing slightly with the Raid Suit mutations. Zoro, on the other hand, isn’t connected enough to his emotions, and I think something needs to happen (potentially in this arc) to move him towards being more driven by them. I love the symmetry of it all. They can then balance each other out with even greater coherence, which will translate into battle.

Elbaph technology, ancient technology

I can’t wait to learn more about the painters (sunstones) that have been introduced to us in this arc. They’re incredibly reminiscent of Skypiea’s dials, with a hint of sun-based technology that makes me think of Vegapunk’s research and his dreams. Now, Oda could just very well never explain what they really are, or where they come from – we never got answers about the dials. However, given that we’re much further along in the story, I’m hoping we will get more information. My suspicion regarding the dial technology is that it came from the moon with the sky people who became the Skypieans, Shandorans, Birkans and Lunarians. Alternatively, it might have been developed by the Ancient Kingdom. 

The painters of Elbaph could be a technology of similarly ancient origin (there may be more kinds of painters that serve different purposes, like the dials). Given we’re likely to start getting more information about the Ancient Kingdom and the Void Century if Robin visits Saul and his library, it would make sense for Oda to start bringing together the threads of these ‘otherworldly’ technologies. On top of that, Egghead very much highlighted technology as critically important – something that can cause immense harm, as well as bring immense relief and ease to people’s lives. We know that the Ancient Kingdom had incredibly advanced and sophisticated technology, and it seems like too much of a coincidence to me that islands and societies with strong historical links to that kingdom would also happen to have sustainable technologies that haven’t been shared with the world at large. 

Speaking of Egghead technology, I’m curious to see if we get more information about why Elbaph has island clouds. We know from Egghead that they’re formed when pyrobloin (also found in seastone) meets water vapour after being ejected in volcanic eruptions – and that Vegapunk managed to create them and maintain them artificially. It makes sense that Elbaph’s Sun World is high enough in altitude for island clouds to exist stably there, but does that mean there are also volcanoes around there? Were they created a long time in the past when there were volcanoes there? Same question goes for Skypiea. Can the giants work with and manipulate island cloud in the way the Skypieans did, too? Regardless, they’re going to become invaluable given Vegapunk’s global flood prediction. Scientists like Haredas and the remaining Punk satellites’ knowledge of how to create them might become essential to saving people’s lives, as hinted during Egghead. And again, I sense connections to the Ancient Kingdom’s technological prowess that I believe we’ll start to get more and more pieces of as the story progresses in Elbaph.I’m sure the connection to seastone and Wano is important – even the idea of bringing together the elements of earth, water and air/sky (which happen to be linked to each of the ancient weapons) as well as fire/the sun and the Motherflame?? Oda’s cooking something, I know it. 

With all of that said, I'm very excited to see what Nami might learn and do this arc – we've already seen her invoke "divine retribution", and I wouldn't be surprised if we see some more of her skills in a setting as nature and environment-based as this. On top of that, she's one of the scientists of their crew. She's a genius when it comes to weather science and technology, so who knows what she'll be able to do with painters and other weather-related technology on Elbaph, or even knowledge from Saul's library.

One of the biggest challenges in the One Piece world and one of the reasons that the world government is able to maintain dominance to some extent is its literal geography. It’s a world mostly covered by sea, with the only large land mass being the Red Line where the World Government's leadership is based. Parts of the sea cannot be crossed unless you have specific technology (Calm Belts) and on top of the usual difficulties and dangers of maritime travel, the Grand Line harbours extremely erratic and dangerous weather phenomena. This disconnection of people across the world serves to break up collective power, connection and communication, which is part of the reason why the Great Pirate Age was so threatening to the World Government. Normal people basically can’t travel long distances because they lack the resources and technology to do so safely. 

As we’ve seen, technology is a double-edged sword – in the hands of those in power, it can easily become a tool of dominance and destruction, as with the Motherflame. However, if distributed amongst the people for the purposes of bringing better quality of life, it is also invaluable (as we’ve seen with the dials and painters so far). I believe we’ll see more examples of this emerge from this arc, potentially even including tools from the Ancient Kingdom itself. I imagine that part of the downfall of that advanced civilisation might have been their resources and technology. Perhaps they themselves took things too far, or maybe some other group wanted control of what they had, leading to war. 

The return of the princess

One thing that did surprise me slightly in this chapter is the reunion of the Strawhats, because I genuinely thought Oda was going to keep them split up. My reasoning was that he would keep the Alabasta crew and older crew apart, to make it impossible for the message from Vivi to get to the relevant crewmembers. This makes me sound like I don’t want Vivi back ASAP and I promise, I do! For clarity, I think Vivi is (already) the last Strawhat and will join the crew on the Sunny sooner or later. Something that supports the idea of her meeting them on Elbaph is that we’re of course getting a lot of parallels and throwbacks to Little Garden (DorryBro, the giant animals, themes of strength) and who was with them on that island? None other than our beloved princess. Oda loves doing things like that. 

To be honest, I thought he would want to draw it out for longer, just to tease us. Of course, just because the crew is back together for now doesn’t mean that a) they’ll stay together for long (although I would love for that to be the case) or b) the Strawhats who saw the newspaper will bring it up to the others. I’m sure Robin will want to see Saul as soon as possible after the welcome feast (maybe even immediately if he’s unwell), and they might not all go with her. Plus, there’s no guarantee that any of the crew who did read the newspaper would think to mention it to the others (since only Robin picked up on the mark). It’s not like they got new bounties after Egghead. On the other hand, someone could just produce a copy at the feast as an update, and someone like Nami picks it up – it wouldn’t be that clunky for Oda to do. 

Initially upon reading it felt to me like the Vivi thing was going to be forgotten and left for a while, especially if the crew got split up. Thinking about it now, I really don’t know what kind of timeframe we’ll get. There are just too many possibilities to guess. He could have it be something that gets relatively resolved quickly and they send a message to Vivi early in the arc (I’m sure they can send a letter to the WEJ) so she can start heading over (again, don’t know how long that would take), or it could be something that’s left aside for a while. I have no idea. Also, very smart of Oda to put her on an airship that could just, directly land on the Sun level of a certain giant tree. Hmmmmmm. 

We also know Sabo needs to talk to her and Luffy, so I’m anticipating (praying) we might see him meet up with them towards the end of Elbaph, or shortly after. No, I’m not being delusional just because I want to see him...

Brag Men, fictional romance and Shadow the Hedgehog

Lastly, I wanted to talk about the very ominous ending of this chapter, which of course will have caught everyone’s attention. If you remembered Louis Arnot and Brag Men, big kudos to you. I will own up and say I remembered Louis Arnot vaguely being mentioned in relation to Little Garden, but not much else. 

It feels obvious to state, but the first thing that jumps to mind for me is that Oda is once again making the parallels between Little Garden and Elbaph extremely clear. He is also showing us that Brag Men and this Louis Arnot character are important in the One Piece world, which was previously hinted at. Specifically, it ties into Montblanc Noland’s story and the Skypiea arc, and further strengthens the key theme of stories in Elbaph. Both Brag Men and Noland’s story are considered fictional or even lies by most people. However, we know that Noland’s story turned out to be completely true, including the fact that the sky islands do exist and can be reached, and likewise with Louis Arnot’s account of Little Garden. It seems very clear that Elbaph is going to explore ideas around fantasy vs reality, truth vs lies, fact vs fiction, myths and storytelling, and the nature of what’s possible in the world of One Piece. I think Oda will get a little meta, and I love it. 

On the topic of the actual Louis Arnot quote, two things jump out at me. Firstly, the emphasis once again on Warland being a part of Elbaph, which I discussed earlier. This raises the question of when people started predominantly calling it Elbaph, and why? What changed, or was erased, on the island? Secondly, Arnot’s warning that travellers should not regret their “lost time” or overstay their welcome. I’ve touched on ideas around this earlier as well, but I think there are many options as to why this might be. It could be a question of time passing strangely (like on Little Garden), danger (whether from the environment or the inhabitants), or something else. My guess right now is a combination of those. Since before the arrival on Elbaph, the giants have been associated with a stretching out and lengthening of time, as well as a detachment from reality itself (e.g. the Green Fairy alcohol and hallucinations, the idea of drinking and feasting for days). It makes me think of entering a fae realm where time passes differently, and it’s all too easy to never return to the real world, or maybe even become trapped. I also think there may well be threats to humans especially due to internal conflict, secrets kept well-hidden on the island, and/or hostility from certain inhabitants. It feels too early to say much else.

What was particularly interesting to me, though, is the choice of visuals Oda paired with the Arnot quote. In the panel where we see a natural jungle landscape, with a huge bear right in the middle of it, there is a tiny mysterious silhouette. It is wearing what looks in shape like a Wano-style straw hat, and seems to have a distinctive spiky hairstyle or coat. Of course not that much can be deduced from this one panel, but this figure does look very similar to the seated one we saw after Egghead, who was drinking from a bottle and saying “come on…”. The hat is the same, and if you zoom in, it looks like they are holding something to their mouth (a bottle?). I’m putting my money on it being the same person, and I also think it may well be the same mystery character from the cover story of Chapter 631, where we see Crocus drinking with someone who’s back is turned. They are wearing the same Wano-style amigasa and have spiky hair. Crocus seems happy and relaxed, so they probably know each other and are quite close. Obviously we know absolutely nothing about this character apart from a vague silhouette and maybe their hair and hat, but I will put on my clown makeup and say I think it’s Scopper Gaban. 

Why? Because I want it to be. This theorising about the silhouette is the part I’m fully just including for fun, because we have so little to go on but. He would be friends with Crocus since they were both on Roger’s crew, he has spiky hair which might now be white from age, he’s been to Wano, it would make sense for Oda to make him cross paths with the Strawhats, and he’s strong – which he would need to be to get from Twin Cape to the New World alone, and to survive in the wilderness of Elbaph. Also, I just think it’s interesting that we haven’t yet heard anything about someone who was clearly extremely strong in Roger’s crew (unconfirmed but likely Roger’s #3 after Rayleigh). I have no other evidence, but that’s my theory. The timeline of Louis Arnot’s activity would actually also fit with someone from the Roger Pirates (pen name, maybe?) but I feel like that’s stretching it. I will be a clown if it turns out to be someone we’ve never met before, or even just Louis Arnot himself (real not pen name), but that’s fine. I’m manifesting. 

The last thing I’ll say about the last page of the chapter is that the last panel, with the pitch-black background, very much reminds me of the ‘blackout’ panels we saw during the Lego world adventure a few chapters ago. It could of course just be a coincidence, and Oda’s using the background for pure dramatic effect. But, and again I am in a full face of clown makeup, something else could be going on… [insert DOOM! panel]

[franceanon]

Audio-grabbed + Clip’d by Me.

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