#implied assault

The background creepiness of Bad pirate crews, which are most of them, how they tend to not have any female crew members at all, how they beckon any pretty young woman around to come play with them and join them. It's real bad. It's also like, a totally 2 dimensional portrayal of evil that is reserved for the most background of background characters.

However I think their ubiquity says a lot about how piracy is meant to be perceived by the public in One Piece, and is one of the strongest indicators of how prevalent misogyny is in-world.

It's very normal in One Piece for regular island inhabitants to have never met a Different class of pirate in their life. There's no reason for them to withhold judgement that maybe these pirates won't be like every crew that attacked before, and to wait and judge them by their actions. I mean frankly that would be irrationally weak self-preservation.

There are people who live peacefully under the flags of Yonkos who protect them, and feel loyalty and gratitude to them for it, but that seems to only be thing with very big name pirates. The East Blue, being the weakest and least populated, has no such plethora of powerful people and resulting turf wars.

So. Nami. Is very clearly implied to have never met any Different pirates before. I'm thinking about what that means. About how every group of pirates she stole from were creepy, dangerous men. How she started going out stealing when she was still a young child. How she didn't have a mother anymore to guide her or comfort her. How Arlong would grab her chin inappropriately, talk about her as a "human female", as property, and god knows what else.

How all the men in Arlong's crew treated her patronizingly, pretending they're all friends, teasing her and playing at respect when really not a single one of them ever stuck up for her or hesitated to accuse her of betrayal. Who were always ready to kill her if she refused to cooperate. Who grabbed her and intimidated her when they felt like it.

That's what she had to come back to after a close call with stealing from other predatory men, instead of the relief of home there was a dark, cramped room filled with endless hours of misery and isolation and blood. Where any one of her captors could barge in and demand new maps, work faster, where did you go, you took too long again this time. Endless threats and incursions.

I'm thinking about that her fight scene in Alabasta, where she tumbles and rips off her cape and uses it to catch her enemy's spikes, before leaping to her feet and running out the back door, all in one moment. How it makes her enemy reconsider her and think, "so the girl's not a total novice at fighting after all." What that implies about her experiences as a young thief. The times she wasn't fast or clever enough and had to fight and claw her way out. Why she always carried a staff and a knife. Why she was the only one before Chopper who had any medical knowledge or experience.

You know she was stitching herself up. And the weapons, how do you think she learned to use those? If any of the Arlong Pirates helped her it wasn't out of kindness and it wasn't gentle.

Then I think about Nojiko, and Bellemere's memory, and the only softness in a hard life. How easily Nami connects to every young woman experiencing hardship that she meets. How completely she dismisses the struggles of men unless they mean something to her and are going through something terrible. The way that Nami only has sympathy for women and children is easily noticeable in-text, but it's also something confirmed in those words by the author. And it's clearly because of the life she lived, the men who had all the power and only abused it, who saw her as nothing but a girl to take advantage of, without anyone aside from her sister clearly knowing and caring about any of it.

Nami clearly isn't bitter, she doesn't think the world owes her recompense, on the contrary she knows she is far from the only person in the world to suffer the things she has suffered. She is endlessly reaching out and kind, but only to those that she isn't sure would get help without her. Certainly, before Luffy, Usopp, and Zoro, no man ever reached out a hand to her without an ulterior motive.

Guard Dog - Obsessive!Yandere!Gladiator!Choso Kamo x Medic!F!Sweet!Reader:

#Tags: Obsessiveness, possessiveness, obsession at first sight, stalking, minor cursing, implied assault, madness, he's a gladiator, Ancient Rome AU, you're his medic, he saves you(?), lying, jealousy, he's crazy for you, follows you around, golden retriever energy for you(?), smitten

Dividers by @uzmacchiato !

Jujutsu Kaisen:

Ancient Roman Terminology guide:

Medicus - Medic/doctor

Mea Vita - My Life

Meum Mel - My Honey

Valetudinaria - Infirmary

Lanista - New Gladiators-in-training

Lora - A beverage resembling wine, made from crushed grapes and water

Saturnalia - A festival of celebration for the Roman God Saturn in December

Your hands shivered with nervousness as you inhaled deeply. The gladiators would return any minute now. Or rather, the gladiator. It was a given by now. The blood hound, Choso Kamo. The only one who returned from the sea of gladiators every time they gathered at the colosseum for the pleasure of nobility. The one you've heard of frequently. The Greek prisoner of war. Now, as the new medicus, you have to treat him.

"Medicus Y/n, be on standby!"

You straightened up, fixing your tunic as you quickly grabbed the bottle of vinegar to disinfect the wounds. Please, let there be very minimal injuries sustained by the gladiators! You hated seeing people in pain. Perhaps, that's why you chose to be a medicus. So you could help people overcome that pain. You can do it—

"Everyone, restrain him!"

Your eyes flicked to the commotion ensuing at the gates of the infirmary. And then, you gasped. There, stood a bloodied man. Buff, brooding, tall and strong, with a sculpted physique and shoulder-length black hair. His eyes were like pools of hot chocolate, his pupils narrowed into slits as he struggled against the guards restraining him, growling.

"Let go of me!"

"We need back-up, call the other soldi—"

"Oh, my! You're so bloodied!" You gasped, rushing over to this mysterious troublemaker. And then, his eyes met yours, feral and wild. A flicker of something unreadable flashed in them as they roved over your features with unabashed intensity, his tongue flicking over his split lower lip. Mnn. What a fucking vision you were. So beautiful. So ethereal that it was making him angry.

A snarl twisted his lips, "who the fuck are you?"

"I'm Y/n. I'm the new medicus of the gladiators," you quickly introduced yourself, making space to evade if he hit you.

"Don't fret. I do not hit women." Not this beautiful woman, at least such beauty should be displayed in a museum..

You let out a sigh of relief as you noticed this man settle down on the low bench, his frame out of place in the room.

"Well? Work your magic."

You grabbed the vinegar, quickly pouring it over his arm. He winced a little, his face contorting in pain before becoming his usual brooding self.

"You new here?"

"Yes."

"I see. I've never seen you around before," his eyes locked onto yours, "so I figured that much."

"..."

"..."

"So, tell me about yourself!" You brightly smiled at him oh fuck., reaching for the cloth bandages.

"There's nothing to tell. Just been a gladiator for months now. Been the last one standing each time," he scoffed, glaring at you, "what about you? Some pretty princess hired to be eye candy for us all? Or you got actual skills too?"

A fierce blush covered your cheeks as you gasped in indignation, "excuse me? I'll let you know, I was chosen among one hundred and fifty other highly skilled medics! I'm qualified for my job."

"We'll see about that later, Mea vita," a rumbly chuckle escaped him for the first time since he came into the room.

God. You hated how irritatingly good he sounded. His voice was like the finest grape juice in the entirety of Rome, squeezed from the ripest fruit and imbued with a hint of timber. It was delicious. Wait, Y/n! You're not supposed to be fantasizing about some brutal warrior. Focus on your work!

As you bent to retrieve some more cloth bandages, you felt Choso's eyes burn holes into your back, examining your rear with intense focus it's so round and soft.. A grunt of approval exited his lips as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, his eyes dark and secretive.

"Why're you looking at me like that?" You sighed, standing up straight. "It's giving me the chills."

"Like what?" Choso leaned back, his arms flexing from the movement yes. Notice him more..

"Like you want to eat me alive," you scoff, grabbing his unnecessarily firm arm to bandage it again your hands are so soft. How does god create a woman so beautiful?.

"Venus. Have you seen her statues?"

"Who hasn't? She's the goddess of love and beauty. Of course, her statues decorate every corn—"

"You look like her,"

"Yeah, and— wait. What? No way," a flush bloomed on your cheeks as you looked away, "you're just flattering me."

An incredulous scoff exited his lips as he stood up, towering over you. His eyes intensely fixated on you, his voice a low growl. "Flattery? Do I look like a man who flatters for no reason? You look good and that's that."

"Still, Venus is Venus and I'm just me!" You reasoned, cleaning your hands with a wet cloth as you meandered away from his bench. Your tunic draped behind you as you arranged the remaining bottles of vinegar in their place, only to feel your tunic be used as leverage to pull you back with physical force.

"Don't face away from me," Choso growled, his eyes fierce, "did no one teach you survival skills?"

"Oh, please! What are you, a wild animal?" You scoffed, maintaining eye contact as you freed your tunic from his savage touch. "Plus, your treatment is done! Go to the barracks."

"It's done already?" A flicker of panic passed through his brown eyes as he clumsily stood up, moving closer. "There's still stuff you need to do, right? It can't possibly be over. No way."

"It's done. It was just a little wound. Nothing too serious, thankfully," you tried to push him towards the exit, but he didn't budge.

"Then— Then you need something done? Some delivery to make or something you need to do?" His scorching eyes searched yours. Why was he making excuses to stay longer he'd stay here his entire life. !?

"No! Like I said, nothing is needed. Just go and rest. You've had a tiring day," you sighed in exasperation, noticing him perk up like an obedient pup.

"Fine," hesitantly, he turned away, exiting the room. Not before giving you one last glance.

For some reason, you couldn't help but think that this wasn't the last time you'd see him.

And you were so right.

Ever since then, he's been following you around like a dog. Quite literally, so. Every morning, after sunrise, he's at it. Freshened and ready for his training. Yet, he never arrives at the grounds. Where he does arrive, though? Your little valetudinaria. Every. single. day.

He tries to hide his broad form behind the pillars, but fails miserably. You always notice him. Such was the case today. Just like usual, you were cleaning your vials when you flinched at the feel of a gaze fixating at your back with intensity that resembled the concentrated rays of the sun through a magnification glass. Of course. None other than Choso did this gaze belong to.

"I know you're there. Please, come out," you sighed, bracing your hands at your hips as you turned to face him.

"I was just. I was— I was just walking by," Choso scoffed, avoiding your gaze, "fine. Do you need anything? Anything at all?"

"Actually, you know what? Yeah. I need to send this package of medicine to the lanista. Can y—"

Before you could even complete that sentence, your hands were freed of the load as Choso literally snatched it from you, nodding before running off with surprising agility. He was actually... reliable?

No way in hell was this package going to some random man. You packaged it with such care and effort. Choso doesn't want anyone else to receive your attention. So, no. He's obviously not going to be delivering this to anyone. It's all an excuse to see you again.

Under ten minutes, the gladiator was back. You brightly smiled at him it's so blinding. "Thank you! You're so reliable. Here, some handmade Lora. I crushed the grapes myself! It's a token my of appreciation."

In an instant, the drink was in his hands as he chugged it down, never breaking eye contact. One gulp. Two gulps. Three gulps. Four gulps. Removing the vessel from his mouth, he licked the residue from his lips, a faint smirk pulling onto his face.

"Delicious."

A blush squirmed its way onto your cheeks as you looked away, huffing. Damn your stupid heart. "Reminds me, Choso! Will you be coming to Saturnalia?"

"No."

"Why? It's so much fun! There are drinks, food, dancing, so many things! You should come," you smiled brightly, "enjoy yourself a little."

"Are you going?" He grumbled, leaning against the pillar again.

"Ye—"

"I'm also going, then."

"Why're you tying the festival to my arrival alone?" You let out an incredulous laugh, shaking your head softly. The movement made a few hair strands escape the loose braid you had made of your hair, framing your face prettily. Fuck. He's addicted.

"Since it's the only thing worth coming for,' Choso immediately blurted out, unabashed. His eyes took in the sight of your now flushed face, basking in its beauty. You're so beautiful.

God. Suddenly, Saturnalia can't come soon enough.

The strong fragrance of grape wine hung in the air as you made your way past the stalls and dancers in the street. Saturnalia was so worth the wait! Playing with the long sleeves of the new dress you wore for the festival, paired with the flower crown you crafted yourself, you were a vision! A vision Choso just happened to stumble upon he followed you..

Tailing your radiant form from afar, his brooding form pushed past the swooning ladies, parting them like the Red sea. His eyes were fixed solely on you as they had been all this time, pure limerence reflected in them..

So, why was it so that another man had dared to look at you for so long? He's asking for death. Holding his breath, Choso examined his body language. And then, the final chord of control within him snapped.

The man had dragged you into an alleyway, his intentions clear. The gladiator saw red. With a roar of fury, he launched himself at the man, plummeting his face with sickening punches.

"I'll fucking gouge your eyes out, you sick bastard!"

Just as he was about to sink his nails into his eyeballs, your soft voice broke through his red haze.

"Choso! Please, stop!" You cried out, only to be dragged behind his broad form by your hand.

"Shh. You don't need to look at anything, Meum Mel. Just leave it to me—"

"I don't want to see another person get hurt because of me any further," you sniffled. The sound of your quivering voice only fueled his anger.

"He deserves every single thing I'm doing to him," with a snarl, he threw the man back, turning to you. Brushing a strand of your hair behind your ear, his firm arms wrapped around your form in a protective embrace. "Shhhh. I'm here now."

"I was so scared," you sniffled, clutching his tunic. The sight of you in tears broke his heart apart.

"I'm here now. Don't cry, Mea Vita, don't cry," Choso's voice trembled with the sheer force of his emotions, his arms tightening around your form, "just rely on me from now on. After all, I'm devoted to you and you alone."

And the most dangerous part? It's that your heart didn't protest against this connection. Perhaps, this is what you needed. A guard dog of a man to call your own. And Choso oh-so happened to be that man for you oh, what would you do if you found out that he had organized it all to become your hero to begin with? The only difference between a hero and a villain is about who narrates the tale..

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed it. Choso sends you some grapes 🍇 Do send requests for more! 🤍

The lore, so you don't have to fight the end of the video:

Drema Songbird, the Flight Champion of the Valley of Triumph, held her title steady despite the countless challenges. This frustrated Leon, who wanted her title more than anything. One day, he resorted to violence to try and take Drema out so he could finally win.

Thinking about pierce again

Did you know he knows about costume construction

That's interesting

And kind of sad that since almost no one knows so no one talks about it 😔

Anyways i kind of just wanted to show some old stuff i never posted because , the internet is scary and mean

But no one looks at my Tumblr so 👍 (does this count as vent art i don't know)

Imagine a world where i knew how to write and tried to look into how Chester's jokes might go a little too far sometimes because of the gems messing up his brain

Alright next one

This might be out of character , but have you ever thought about how pierce saw how someone almost went through something similar to what he went through, i did , i'm losing my damn mind

And that's all i have

I love pierce and his lore crumbs 🥹

—TW in tags—

There are just some parts of childhood Wylan Van Eck doesn’t remember.

Lost to time and pain.

Lost to rage and broken glass.

Lost to tutors who saw a bruised boy and never spoke a word in his defense.

Lost to staff paid too well to speak up, choosing mindless gossip over the safety of the gentle boy they watched grow up.

Lost to waiting and waiting and waiting for the love of a father that would never come. Something about as difficult as looking for a shooting star.

There was so much space in his childhood home; space that never felt like his.

So many rooms he was never allowed to roam. So many truths hidden in the walls, never to be let out less outsiders discover the truth.

The truth of the unfit heir, too stupid to read or write. Now he’s too stupid to remember what went on in his father’s office, or the quiet room his tutor led him into.

So, as he walks through the halls of his childhood home, an ache fills his chest. He’s memorized every terrible thing Jan called him, every slur thrown his way, every bruising grip on his wrist.

Yet there are some rooms that tighten his throat and grip at his heart with no clear memory attached.

And he knows, he knows something happened. He just can’t figure out what.

He could dig his heels into the gravel, he could etch his name across the walls, and there would be no proof that he was ever there—No soft piano that filled the empty spaces. No art across the walls. No sign of childhood.

Wylan Van Eck lived, he’s sure of it.