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iamasaddie · 8 months

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my heart keeps beating like a hammer

PIMP!JOEL part 1, part 2, masterlist paring: Joel Miller x fem!afab!Reader rating: explicit word count: 4.8k summary: You and Joel experience somthing new, but when your experience is connected to sex, his novelty is purely mental. // Joel Miller is still a pimp and you still need money, that's it. warnings (for the chapter): changing POV (Joel and Reader); implied male masturbation, reader is getting more experience, discussion of period, spitting (x1); blow job, praise kink, dirty talk a/n: thank you to my soul @bearsbeetsbeskar as usual for being my lifeline and my biggest fan, and to @patti7dc for being PIMP's biggest fan. ILY <3 (also, not heavily beta-ed, all mistakes are my own) ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴏꜰ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ. ᴘʟᴇᴀꜱᴇ, ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ꜰᴏʀɢᴇᴛ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ɪꜱ ᴀ ᴡᴀʏ ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀʟɪɴɢ ᴀɴᴅ ᴘʀᴏᴄᴇꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀᴜᴍᴀ ꜰᴏʀ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴇᴏᴘʟᴇ, ᴀɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴄᴀɴɴᴏᴛ ᴅɪᴄᴛᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴘᴏʟɪᴄᴇ ʜᴏᴡ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴅᴏ ɪᴛ ᴀɴᴅ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴛʏᴘᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ᴛʜᴇʏ ᴄʜᴏᴏꜱᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛᴇ ᴀɴᴅ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴜᴍᴇ. ꜱᴛᴀʏ ꜱᴀꜰᴇ, ᴘʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴄᴇ ᴄᴏɴꜱᴇɴꜱᴜᴀʟ ꜱᴇx ᴀɴᴅ ꜱᴘʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴏᴠᴇ.

Fuck, you smelled good. Good enough to eat.

As Joel laid in his bed, his right hand still a little sticky with your arousal and drenched with your smell, he couldn't stop replaying the moment you two just shared. Well, it was nothing special, or at least it was what he tried to tell himself. He watched you masturbate and then fingered you, a little. It was just a teaching moment, he had those before, multiple of them. And yet none of them had this peculiar mix of confidence and naiveté, like a spicy candy.

You looked beautiful as hell, too, and that didn't fucking help. Fresh after a shower, your clean skin that became dirty so quickly. The lower lip that you kept biting, he thought you'd draw blood. He'd lick the blood off you. Fuck, where did that come from?

No, it was just the heat of the moment. You were gorgeous, with your angles and your eyes, that didn't match your face neither in age nor experience. How can someone so old be so young? Joel felt like he was born old, he couldn't even remember himself young. But you... He brought his hand to run through his hair and here it was again, the overwhelming smell of you. He'd been hard for longer than it was healthy, that was for sure. Good thing he didn't cum in his fucking pants, that’d be just peaches.

Again, his mind came back to you, the way you fought your body for something so primal, that should be given to you so easily. And yet you struggled. He felt a weird sense of pride swelling along with his cock when he heard the way you sang for him as soon as his fingers touched your heated flesh. It was so soft, it called for him to get closer, to have a taste. Joel was just a fucking man with a fucking cock, and that cock got him in a lot of trouble before.

He said his thanks to all of the deities above - if there were any - for the way your eyes closed and brows furrowed, so you couldn't see him biting and licking his own lips, centimeters away from your oasis that he wanted to drink up, more than a glass of whiskey after the hardest day. He couldn't keep his eyes from the arousal glistening on your wet cunt, practically begging for him to dive in. Yet, he resisted. It would not do either of you any good.

Joel was brought to reality as he jerked in his bed when he heard soft whimpers coming from behind his closed door. There was no mistaking the sound, he almost anticipated it. Once you found the pleasures your body could give, it was hard to stop yourself from getting them.

Judging by the muffled sounds, you tried your best to keep your little night activity hidden from him, if not successfully.

"Fucking hell," he moaned to himself. His cock that started to soften a little came back to life in an instant, lifting up the simple cotton sheet he slept naked under. He shouldn't do it, not now, not like that. And yet his right hand - the hand claimed by you - lifted to his mouth unconsciously. "I am so fucked." His whisper was addressed to nobody, and he licked his palm with a stiffed moan as your taste claimed his tongue as well.

Surprisingly, the next day you weren't woken up by Joel. When your stomach pinched with cramps you already knew what was going to happen. It was early in the morning and you tried to be as quiet as you could paddling your bare feet to the bathroom. Yup, you looked down your cotton panties that already dried when you put them back on in the middle of the night, your period came. An ugly red stain looked back at you mockingly from the center of the gusset.

It wasn't a usual occurrence, malnourished as you were, so you couldn't keep track of when would be the next time you'd start bleeding. It was always a surprise, and always an unpleasant one.

"Fuck, you are so stupid sometimes," you muttered to your pussy, crouching down on the toilet and inhaling deeply to try and lessen the pain in your lower abdomen. You wondered what could be the reason for it, you'd only started eating more a day ago, so it shouldn't have been the case. Maybe…?

When Joel left you on the couch yesterday, your body continued to buzz with pleasure, and not long after you tried to make good of his lesson, abusing your pussy with your fingers orgasm after orgasm, not being able to stop once you got your first. His words, his praise, stuck to your brain like honey stains on the table.

"Good girl" - orgasm, "beautiful pussy" - orgasm, "listen to her", that was when you almost cried both with the strength of light exploding in you and the soreness of your clit. You didn't know if you fell asleep or just blacked out.

Yeah, that must've been it. "Yeah, I'm stupid, too," you muttered to yourself and looked around to find something that could substitute a pad of some sort so you don't bleed all over his sterile bathroom.

Of course, Joel wouldn't have anything in his place. Even though his current life was surrounded by women, it looked like no one with a pussy set a foot in this place, at least not on a regular basis. You sighed, and looked down on the t-shirt you wore to bed. Your t-shirt, the only one you owned.

You were sipping your second glass of water when Joel finally emerged from his room. His face wore that sleepy expression you grew accustomed to pretty quickly. Familiar sound of his bare feet paddling on the wooden floor disturbed the silence. He scratched his jaw with his left hand yawning soundly as he entered the kitchen.

"What the hell happened to your t-shirt?"

You shifted on your seat and looked at what's left of your t-shirt, you had to cut the bottom half off to make something resembling a pad. You wore sweatpants Joel gave you before going to sleep since your jeans were still wet. Your stomach was on display and you tried to pull the ripped material a little bit lower to hide your belly-button.

"Umm..." Telling him that you decided to try a new look, more appropriate for the stereotypical worker of a brothel, would only make you look more stupid, so you decided to go for the truth. "I'm on my period."

You were never fazed by talking about the natural processes your body had been going through, you just didn't understand what could be so embarrassing about the way your body worked. Not like you could change it. Joel seemed to share your views as he didn't even raise an eyebrow to your admittance. He seemed more confused about the thought process that lead from your getting your period to you having only a half of your shirt on.

"And that explains why half of your t-shirt's gone?"

"Well, I couldn’t go around bleeding on shit, could I?" You were snappy as it was, but when period came, even though it wasn't such a frequent occurrence, you'd noticed yourself being a next level bitch. You inhaled deeply to calm yourself down and continued in a calmer tone. "You don't have any cotton in your bathroom."

Joel, unfazed by your temporary lash out, just hummed to himself and nodded, circling you around and rummaging his cupboard for a clean cup.

"I’ll ask my girls and bring you some tampons tonight." You snapped your head around. Tampons were fucking rare. Not only were they expensive as fuck, but you'd also have to ask for them every single day during the whole month in hopes to get them first. Sometimes you had to go without. Well, you had to go without most of the time, but whenever you could get a tampon or two you were very grateful for not having to wash your clothes from blood stains every day. Joel turned his head slightly, taking in your hopeful expression. "You know how to use those?"

"Yes, I know how to use fucking tampons." You huffed, annoyance claiming you quicker than you managed to tame it. But then something else settled in your brain, "you're going out?"

"Sure am," Joel nodded, moving around the kitchen and preparing everything so you two could have a breakfast - some boiled eggs, bread and your usual cup of black coffee. "Can't spend my days bottled up here, no matter the company. Birds need their daddy to take care of them." He let out a small laugh that sounded almost affectionate.

"Ew," you wrinkled your nose in a fake disgust, even though hearing that word did something to your insides. "What the fuck, they call you daddy?"

"Some do." Joel shrugged his shoulders like it was the most normal thing in the world and you were the real weirdo. You decided to change the subject to something that was nagging you from the inside.

"Do I need to leave?"

"And where'd you go?"

"I dunno, out."

"Bleedin'?"

The stupid back and forth got on your nerves. The man was like a fucking riddle, whenever you thought you had the right answer turned out you read the instructions backwards. You pinched the bridge of your nose, closing your eyes and exhaling louder than needed.

"Can you just say yes or no, or do I need to call you daddy for you to talk to me like a normal person?"

"Not sure you deserve to call me that yet, rabbit." He scratched his beard and chuckled, Mr. fucking Funny in all his glory. "You can stay, I told ya as long as we have an agreement, you can live here, I ain't kicking you out."

"And you're okay with just leaving me here alone?" You furrowed your brows at this. He was ready to leave almost a complete stranger in his apartment? Alone? Where were the trust issues in this man? What was wrong with him? Either he was unbelievably cocky, or dumb as a rock.

"Should I not be?" His gaze stuck to your face like glue, brown eyes following every twitch and wrinkle on your face as you tried to scold it in the trustworthy expression. There was no use in him thinking you were a criminal of some sort, especially now.

"No, I'm just..."

"Do you want to rob me and run away? I can tell you where I keep my stash," his right hand gestured vaguely somewhere, and you didn't need to see that to know he was pointing towards his room. "So you don't trash the place when I'm gone."

"I'm not going to rob you." You were a lot of things: hungry, desperate, lost, but you were not going to steal. Not from him, or not now, at least.

"I thought so." He placed two plates on the table, you didn't even notice him finishing making the food. "Dig in."

When the door closed behind Joel you waited exactly five obligatory minutes before going to his room. You went through three stages of excuses:

1. If you were staying with him, if you were to trust him with your body, you should really know something about him. He might have sawed body parts buried in his drawers. And it's not like the man ever told you anything about himself besides the information you already knew through street gossip. It was a matter of your safety.

2. If he didn't want you to snoop, he'd close the fucking door. Or he'd at least tell you not to go there. You knew it was a weak fucking point, it was common sense to not snoop when you're at someone else's place. But, you know... See #1 for better reasons.

3. Fuck it, you're gonna be quick and it's not like you wanna steal from him.

His room was less spacious than you expected it to be. The walls were painted yellow, or maybe they were once white, and lacking any form of personality. There was a simple bed in the middle of the room, big enough for two normal people or one Joel, covered in simple grey sheets. He only had one wardrobe and one desk. The desk was cluttered with a filled ashtray, some papers, and a couple of dirty glasses. Not so clean after all, you snickered to yourself. Overall the room was fucking boring and didn't give you any answers as to who Joel was at all.

You went to his wardrobe, the wooden thing being the only place where the secrets could be kept, and were disappointed almost instantly. The first shelf carried his boxers and socks, almost all of them black. You rummaged carefully through them hoping to find a hidden section, but to no avail. You sighed and pushed it back. The second drawer was filled with his clothes, not a lot of it, a couple of t-shirts, a pair of sweatpants, and a few warm-looking plaid shirts.

"Fuckin' hell, man, could you be less pimp-ish?"

You were almost disappointed in him. As you lifted each item of his clothing, trying to see the bottom of the shelf, your eyes caught something. You snaked your hand under the soft green flannel and tugged on the thing. It was a watch. Nothing special, just a big, military-looking wrist watch. Your finger traced the ridged side of it, nail scratching the cold metal as one little thing looking right at you somehow made the watch different. It was busted. The hands didn't move and the glass was cracked. Why would he keep a busted watch in his drawer?

There was no other explanation for it but having an emotional value to him. You didn't have stuff like that, but you knew other people did. Some of them were weak because of it, some were strong. It was always a Russian roulette to meet someone that had lost something, they were either broken, or ready to break.

You stuffed the watch back and your fingers grazed something else, it was almost indistinguishable from the smooth board under your fingertips, so you had to look carefully before pulling it out. A folded piece of paper appeared between your fingers. It looked very old, the map of creases telling you that it had been folded and unfolded multiple times, and even with the care put into such a simple action it was almost torn apart. The edges were ripped, the yellow spots either from time or something spilled on the paper were staining the once white sheet. You hesitated before unfolding it. If it was a love letter, or something of the sort, you'd feel really shitty for seeing it. Clenching your jaw, you weighed your options: you could put it back, close the door and let curiosity eat you alive, or you could look and just live with shame. Shame wasn't new. You could do shame.

You carefully opened the fragile piece of paper, holding your breath and thinking of the multiple variants of what it may contain. Your exhale was so loud and strong, the sheet in your hands trembled.

Not a diary page, not a love letter, not even a suicide not, just a... Drawing?

It was hard to tell, really, most of the paper was covered in colorful splotches, not actually resembling anything. There was a giant pink splotch that had some form right in the middle, and you stretched your hand back a little to understand what it was.

A butterfly. A giant pink butterfly surrounded by multiple other little butterfly splotches in orange, purple, green. The giant butterfly was faded, her wings streaked with something, almost transparent where the paper folded.

There was something written on the bottom of the drawing, an ugly black smudge already unrecognizable. You wondered what happened to this part, did someone spill water, or…

You weren't allowed to let your mind wander as you heard the key turning in the front door. You tried to shove the picture back as carefully as you could, and sprinted out of Joel's room, dropping on the couch. You just hoped he didn't have a photographic memory of how everything was placed.

"Here you go." Joel threw a light, half filled box at you, skipping the pleasantries when he found you on the couch, wrapped in a blanket like a potato in foil. You didn't catch it, and, ricocheting from you, it fell on the floor with a 'thump'. You groaned a little, cramps didn't bother you but there was an unpleasant tightness to your muscles, as you stretched out and picked it up from the floor checking the contents under Joel's curious eyes. There were only six simple white tampons inside but you’d managed with far less before. You looked up from the box, meeting his gaze.

"So?"

"Thanks," you muttered, scurrying to the bathroom, clutching the priceless box to your chest.

When you came out of the bathroom, a pleasant feeling of being clean and staying clean no matter how you moved uplifted your previously dire mood. You found Joel sitting on the couch, his thick, denim-covered thighs spread in a dominating move as he sipped on something - whiskey, you supposed - in his clear glass. Memories of the night you had spent washed over you, bringing back the tightness and slight awkwardness. You felt uneasy, not able to find a place. You weren't there to just chill with him on the couch sipping whatever. You weren't friends, probably wouldn't ever be. But he did treat you decently, as far as decency went in this world. There was no way you could continue your lessons tonight, though, not with the bloodbath that still happened in your panties. And he must have been oblivious judging by his calmness.

"Sorry." You came closer to the couch, hands twitching in an attempt to crack a bone. Joel finally looked at you, his face was nothing but confused.

"What exactly are you sorry about?"

Oh fuck, you really didn't think you'd have to explain that, surely he wasn't expecting you to… He himself wouldn't find it normal to…

"Well, I'm on my period, so it's not like we can have another... lesson." You cringed as you said it, wrinkling your nose.

"A true warrior…" he laughed to himself.

"What?"

"Nothin, rabbit." He shook his head, finishing his drink in one go and placing an empty glass on a tiny unsteady-looking table next to the couch. "But you're wrong, there’s a lot of things we can do without having sex sex."

"I don't think I need another lesson on how to get myself off. I am okay with it." Remembering last night, you should've said you were way more than okay with it. Having one orgasm by your hand made you go crazy, you kept rubbing one after the other until your clit physically ached and your head was delirious with all the pleasure.

Joel gave you a once-over, wiping his mouth with his hand and looking into your eyes.

"Today you're gonna learn how to suck good cock."

You choked on your saliva. Not that the idea was unknown to you, but still for some reason you didn't expect him to say it like that even taking into consideration the nature of your relationship.

"What?"

"You heard me." He nodded, proceeding to justify the topic of today's lesson. "That’s a popular one, so you need to know how to do that. Some men don’t have enough cash to go all in, so they settle for a blowjob. That’s why you need to know how to give a good one, and what better way to learn than to start practicing right away."

If there was one thing Joel Miller didn't lack in, it was logic. Whatever topic he was on, not only did he manage to come out a winner, but he also made it sound like it was the only reasonable thing. You found it hard to resist his arguments, and you didn't feel like you were in the place to do so.

"I haven’t…" You stammered, but then looked him straight in the eyes, almost with a challenge. "I know what it is, I just never actually did it."

"Yeah, yeah, my innocent rabbit, I understand that." Joel didn't wait long before unbuttoning his jeans and dragging the zipper down, the sound louder than the blood pumping in your ears. "Lucky for you, cocks are simple, don't worry. Just come here," he spread his legs wider after dragging his jeans half down, "and get on your knees for me, pretty."

As you stared at the meaty shaft that you felt like stared back at you, you found a second thing Joel Miller didn't lack in - cock. You didn't have a big frame of reference, but you felt like in any world - old or new - Joel was a generously gifted man. His cock was pleasant to look at, which surprised you. It had a nice, almost tanned pink color to it, the head looked darker and a little bit more tense, shining with something. He was girthier than your hand could circle, you could tell that without even having him in your hand, so putting him in your mouth felt intimidating to say the least. ‘The Cock’ - you pictured it starting with a capital letter in your head - was curved to the right just the slightest bit, and if you came closer you could see a vein running from the base and to the almost angry top.

"If you stare at the cock for so long, a man's gonna think there's something wrong with it." He chuckled, and gripped the base of his cock with a thumb and two fingers. "Come on, baby, open your pretty mouth for me. It's time to learn a thing or two."

You did follow his instruction, opening your mouth wide and waiting for him to shove his dick right into your glands. But he didn't hurry.

"Now, stick your tongue out a little, baby, feel the weight of my cock, get a taste." You again did as he told, feeling awkward with your tongue out, but that feeling went away as he placed the hot, heavy head of his cock right on your tastebuds. He moved a little, getting a tiny bit more of him further in your mouth and exhaled through his flaring nostrils as your lips reflectively closed around his tip.

Yeah, it was big, as big as you thought it'd feel. But it wasn't unpleasant. The skin of the head was smooth and soft and your tongue started wandering, swirling around it. The tip of your tongue found his slit and the salty taste of him filled your senses.

"Oh-f-fuck, baby, you're not bad, not bad at all."

You knew you would smile if your mouth wasn't full of his cock and your brows weren't furrowed in concentration. "Relax your tongue, rabbit. You can let it go, tease me a little, kiss the shaft and do as you feel, y'know."

His voice was strained, like he was in pain, but the blown out darkness in his eyes, the deadly grip that he had on the couch's pillow, told you that he might feel something else. Something that you were feeling yesterday.

You let his cock out, a string of saliva that was pooling in your mouth still connected you as you started peppering his shaft with open mouthed kisses and licks. He was like warm steel under your lips, and you smelled something else besides whiskey and his pine soap. Salty sweat and something else, something you'd never smelled before but it was growing its roots in your senses, making your ministrations almost hungry. You felt him twitch and pulse under you, his breathing sound and feeling like the highest praise. You went lower, and lower, sliding your nose along his shaft as you got to the heavy sack of his balls, round and as big as everything else. You lifted uncertain eyes, Joel above you but with the most submissive look across his face that he tried to scold unsuccessfully.

"Go on, baby, you're doing perfect. You can give ‘em a kiss too." And you did. Your lips and tongue caressing the soft skin covered in coarse hairs. That's when you heard it, Joel moaned. The sound sent shivers down your spine, a gush of wetness that you knew wasn't all you period, started leaking out of you. You continued licking at his balls, lightly nipping on soft flesh, trying to get them inside your mouth but afraid to hurt him with your teeth.

"Th- that's enough teasing, baby, or I'll cum in your fucking hair." He stuttered a little and you gave his balls a final wet kiss, your cheeks heating up as you saw them shining covered in your saliva. You looked back at Joel, taking in his red, sweaty face and the clenched fist too close to his face, like he was biting it. Without waiting for the next instructions, you licked a fat stripe across his cock, taking the head back in your mouth. He was right, cocks were pretty easy.

You knew there was no way you could take all of him in, you weren’t even sure it was physically possible, so you hugged what didn't fit in your mouth with your hand trying to mimic little bobs you did with your head.

"You need to wet it first, rabbit, so it slides easier." He reached for your hand, his cock still half buried in your mouth. You gave it to him freely, shocked, but not repulsed when he slouched a spat in your mouth. "Go on, baby, you gotta make me feel good."

Your hand was wet, but not as wet as your panties. He was right once again, your spit-slicked hand moved easily around his shaft, the wet heat of your mouth complementing the soft motions of your hand.

"Tighter, baby, close your lips and your hand tighter. Yeah, just like that, f-fuck. You're good. Good girl."

Your left hand gripped at your thigh, nails digging in your skin through the sweatpants as you tried to contain a whimper begging to leave your mouth. You lifted your eyes giving his cock a stronger suck and met with dark pools of his staring back at you intently. You couldn't describe the gaze as anything but a painful hunger. You saw it a hundred times in the mirror, you just didn't know you'd see it staring back at you as you sucked somebody's cock. You hurried to close your eyes, somehow it felt too intimate, too close, your movements became a little faster as you got a grip, your thumb pressing into the underside of his cock, where a thick vein pulsed stronger and stronger with the more of Joel that you swallowed.

Your cheeks hollowed in a sucking motion and you felt Joel placing a gentle hand on your hair and yanking at it softly, making you return the eye contact as he started to speak through gritted teeth.

"I'm going to cum in your mouth now, you don't have to swallow, baby, you can spit it out, it's fine."

Still remembering the unique taste of his precum that you came to enjoy, you didn't even think about spitting whatever he gave you now. For some reason, you felt like owning a part of him deep inside you would make you more equal to him. Not that he ever treated you like anything less. Like you'd know a part of him that he didn't share before. His loud groan was the only warning you got before the hot spurts of his seed hit the back of your throat, you started swallowing, trying to taste him on the roof of your tongue as your soft flesh continued milking him until he was spent. You kept his cock buried in your mouth, still lightly caressing the flesh that couldn't fit with your right hand.

"Fucking hell, rabbit, you're gonna make me pay for our lessons if you keep acting like this."

You let his cock out with a wet pop, wiping saliva from your lips and kissing the shaft as you let it go and unable to say what made you do so.

"You already pay," you said mundanely, "you let me stay here, and you feed me."

"Right." For the split second that you swallowed his seed, your eyes blown out with desire, his brain short circuited and he forgot the kind of situation you were in. "Well, good then, we're even."

__________

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#iamasaddie fic #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller smut #joel miller x y/n #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x female reader #HTBS #pimp!joel

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solunstell · 5 months

Text

List of bsd headcanons

Dazai:

Has bpd. A lot of his traits remind me of my friends with it

He some kind of trans. Nonbinary. Transfem. Transmasc. Idk he's megender lmao

He's described as appearing very youthful in the first two light novels. I imagine that once the events of the main timeline start picking up though, with all the time stopping or slowing abilities that *dont affect him*, he actually ages faster than the other characters. I draw current dazai with small wrinkles, which also hints at stress and stuff

Also, I imagine current dazai getting tanner as he works in the light, as well as getting more prominent freckles.

Round/doe eyes because that is part of his appearance in my opinion. Seeming unsuspecting and innocent, especially during his mafia days

Bad eyesight in his right eye from being under the bandages for so long. Saw this headcanon and loved it

Similarly, beastzai has bad vision in general

I always call No Longer Human an anti-ability in my head, fun fact

He loves to touch other people. Not a fan of being touched by others unless asked

I draw him with red eyes in color, and usually black eyes in ink (inconsistent artstyle my beloved)

Aroace spectrum

heavy sleeper. Very

Chuuya

FRECKLES and tan from sheep days

He likes to be close to other people more than actually touching. Presence over contact

That shade of eyes that changes colors in the light (but I use a grey base lol)

Also some sort of trans, but in a different way than dazai

Brownish red hair. Not blazing, not just brown

That man is AUTISTIC

One time instinctively kicked a friend with his ability active, expecting them to dodge cuz he's used to dazai easily dodging. They did, but they were SO CLOSE to getting hit. Imagine a confused face like wtf why you try to kick me

Light sleeper, but every now and then sleeps like he just learned how to close his eyes

A lot of his jokes go over people's heads because they expect him to be serious and his voice just doesn't change between serious and not serious

Ranpo

Autism plus adhd ftw

Aroace spectrum

Poe

He/they vibes

Anxiety

Gay af

I can 100% see him being into knitting. Imagine the guide plus ranpo all in matching sweaters

Loves baking. Sooooo bad at it

Lucy

Bi (with a lean towards girlies) she/it

VERY good at baking

But she won't share :(

Atsushi

Anxiety, so much anxiety

Aroace spectrum vibes

Very easily idolizes people and then gets surprised when they actually like being around him

Akutagawa

Aroace spectrum

Autism cuz he is so mecore sometimes

Very trans vibes from me

(I like to imagine him having tourettes cuz I have tourettes and I am Not projecting)

Atsushi (special kitty hearing) and jouno being the only ones who can hear some of his tics. He will be horrified that anyone notices them

Wait no actually I'm gonna incorporate that into my belief system. That's canon now

Mori

Genuinely cares about a lot of his workers, but not all of them

He gives great bonuses for birthdays

He absolutely loves vtubers if bsd were in a modern setting. Rip mori. He'd have also loved vocaloid lmao

Ozaki

Masc energy. Fem energy. Ooh I can see ozaki with any pronouns and identity

Kinda person to accidently either overpack or underpack. Always has painkillers, never has a pen

Ridiculous memory. Incredible gift giver. Would get someone something months or years after overhearing them say they wanted something once

"Whyd you get me a hairdryer?"

"You said you needed one. I saw it and thought of you."

"...that was months ago. I got a hairdryer already."

"..." *takes hairdryer back* "sorry wrong person. I don't have my contacts in my bad"

She has perfect vision

Kunikida

Trans vibes. In any and every direction

Adhd af

Will always conveniently have room in his schedule when Aya wants to go do something and needs someone to go with her. No, he's TOTALLY not frantically writing and erasing things, get your glasses updated

You can usually count on him to continue the bit cuz he won't realize there is a bit occurring

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randompajamaalt · 8 months

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I'm deeply invested in your Gerry headcannons

Care to share some more? :D

absolutely!! I love gerry so much I have so many hcs for him so I hope you don’t mind if I just.. pour em all out for a second

He makes friends with crows as much as he physically can. Whenever he spots crows in the wild he feeds them and makes friends with them so he’s constantly getting new shiny little trinkets. If he has stuff that he doesn’t want anymore he’ll give it to his favorite crow of the week. And yes, he’s named them, and yes, he can tell all of them apart.

he has heterochromia! one of his eyes is green and the other is a mix of blue and brown. He wears dark brown contacts to cover them because he was kind of convinced they were a weird ugly flaw from a young age and never really got over it. He used to have two blue eyes, only the right one having brown in it, but over time his right eye(the pure blue one) slowly got greener as his connection to The Eye got stronger. It was almost fully green by the time he got his tattoos.

he would totally have fun in the sky vast

his familial trauma from being abused probably got him into the habit of walking silently, and that only got better with the whole hunt thing, so now he can creep up on anyone without making a single sound. He usually does it on accident

Whenever he’s in a particularly bad situation or a super bad mood the temperature around him goes down. and like- gets chilly. It’s not usually noticeable but sometimes it’s super strong

SO YOU KNOW HOW HE HAS EYE TATTOOS ON EVERY JOINT. I personally hc they’re all around the same size- kind of small-ish. And if they’re on every joint that means they’re on his knuckles, wrists, elbows, shoulders, hips, knees, ankles, toes, and UP HIS ENTIRE SPINE. UP TO WHERE HIS HAIR ENDS. but hear me out- the jaw is also a joint. WHAT IF. He had eyes on both sides of his jaw.

He pronounces “Chamomile” like “Sha-momma-lay” and nobody has ever bothered to correct him. Gertrude caught it on tape once

I don’t actually think he has a whole lot of piercings. Maybe his earlobes but tbh not much else? Idk why but he just seems like he would prefer tattoos and then just wear fake piercings everywhere else. Like he just doesn’t see the point of going through the whole process of trying to keep the piercings clean when he can just wear cool fake ones.

He likes drawing all over himself. One time Gertrude yelled at him abt it because he was using sharpie.

He loves stickers!! Sometimes he sticks them on books, sometimes on himself, and sometimes just anywhere he can reach. Whenever he passes a craft store he can’t help but buy a bunch of stickers.

He knows a tiny bit about sewing because of all the times he’s had to repair his clothes and sew on patches. He did make a skirt by himself once! Maybe I’ll draw it sometime :D

and yeah that’s all I can think of for now! that uh. was longer than expected. But it was fun!! Tysm for asking I love sharing my hcs :D

#tma #the magnus archives #gerry keay #tma gerry #gerry delano #gerard keay #gerard delano #wooo #i love gerry #maybe I’ll do Michael hcs next?#or the skirt #idk. maybe I’ll have a poll

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lorkai · 4 months

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.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: Wrote this for my secret santa friend, hopefully he'll love it as much as I did writing this. I really like Pomefiore and Ignyhide chapters a lot, but Diasomnia, bro, Diasomnia has my heart, ngl. I don't even have words to describe everything it's making me feel so far. Although something I know for sure is that chapter 7 made me fall in love with Diafamily even more than before. (Also tagging you @hanafubukki I feel you're gonna like this)

“Papa, can you read to me?” A familiar little voice caught the attention of the fae who was lost in his own thoughts, tired eyes looking at his son with interest as he patted the seat next to him, small smile on his lips.

The boy took his place next to his father on the sofa, bringing with him a large book of fables and myths, and birds that rested on the open window, singing. Normally Lilia would read to him right before putting him to sleep but Silver needed to distract him from whatever was troubling his old man right now. His father did that sometimes, staring at the horizon without saying anything as if he was recalling precious but painful memories. Despite his young age, Silver could detect conflicting feelings in his father's eyes.

But it was okay, Silver was there to hold his father's hand and kiss his wounds just like his father did for him.

“What story do you want me to read, Silver?” His father asked, letting the boy lay his head on his lap like he always did. A hand automatically came down to play with the silver strands of his hair, twirling the strands and massaging his scalp with slow movements.

Silver thought for a while. For the past few days he had heard Little Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, Snow White and several other funny stories. But he had his favorite. It was a story he really liked but he didn't know how to put into words why yet, maybe in the future he would come to understand that it was because of the message behind the story.

“Goldilocks!” He responded promptly.

Lilia let out a nasal laugh, already preparing to tell that story for the tenth time that week. Despite wanting to share tales of Little Thumb, The Match Girl, and Hansel and Gretel with Silver, Lilia couldn't resist giving in to Silver's request once again. His eyes lit up each time he read to him, as bright as two diamonds reflecting the excitement the young boy felt.

Lilia prepared, using his best storyteller voice. "Once upon a time, there was a beautiful bear family living in a distant forest."

He turned the book to show the illustration of three brown bears for Silver to see, and even though the boy had seen that drawing a million times, he smiled widely and touched each of them with his finger. For a moment, he wished to meet a bear and become friends, as he was already capable of befriending other animals.

They do look cozy, Silver thought with a smile, imagining how comforting it would be to snuggle with a bear to sleep.

"[before lunch...]. The wise mama bear already set the table before leaving, so they could eat as soon as they returned from their walk." Silver wondered what kind of food bears ate and shivered. He hoped it was better than his father's food.

The story continued smoothly with Silver laughing at Goldilocks' antics, but what he was really paying attention to was his father's face. Lilia was now visibly calmer and relaxed, no longer sad in his thoughts, no longer lost in his memories. And that made Silver smile. He didn't like it when his father was sad.

And he imagined that no other child liked it either.

"Finally, she tasted the soup in the smallest bowl, and it was warm and delicious–"

His eyelids were getting heavier as Silver relaxed, listening to his father's voice trailing off until it disappeared. Imagining being friends with bears and eating alongside them, Silver let himself be lulled by the affection offered and the comfort he felt, his eyes closing completely. Everything was okay now; his father was smiling again.

Lilia leaned in and gently kissed his son's forehead, looking at him lovingly.

Humans grow so fast, the fae thought.

It's not like he didn't know this fact; it was clear that he knew, and he was reminded of it every day. Every second spent with his son was more precious than the previous one. Still, five years passed quickly, five long years where his heart was filling with the purest kind of love. The love of a father for a son, the same love he felt when Malleus's egg hatched, and he could see his beloved sister's child.

It was a difficult feeling to put into words. But he knew instantly when he held Silver in his arms for the first time that his little world would change and change for the better. His bloody days turned into joyful days spent with his son, filled with small joys and simple actions that touched his heart more than he could realize.

The fae let the book rest on the couch, standing up with his son in his arms to put him to bed.

He could always tell another story to Silver when he woke up.

#disney twisted wonderland #disney twist #twst silver #twst lilia #twst lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland #silver #lilia vanrouge #twisted wonderland lilia #twisted wonderland silver #twisted wonderland lilia vanrouge #lorkai imagine

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cryogenically-frozen · 8 months

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Kiyotaka Week Prompt 6: Future

I decided instead of doing a drawing of him as an adult (I think he would become a teacher if you're curious), I would draw what I thought he was like just before the killing game started. So, basically, two years older than what we see in-game.

Yes I am aware we see him helping set up the school in the anime for lockdown and he looks exactly the same but I reject that reality and replace it with my own for the sake of this post and Kiyotaka week funsies.

Also, you can't tell me that they didn't change appearance at all in the two years they went to school at Hope's Peak.

I think Mondo would have told him something along the line of "you would look super cool with long hair" not thinking anything of it so he started growing it out. He was about to cut it short again because he wasn't sure if he likes it being longer and it had just gotten to that awful length where he can't tie it up but it also is constantly in his face.

When the school went into lockdown he decided to let it grow out until they could leave the school again. To help, Mondo gave him the headband he uses to keep the hair out of his face when he takes his make-up off.

His hair is also going lighter at the roots. His dad had told him he had gone grey at a very early age but Taka hadn't quite realised just how young his father had been talking about. He'd talk to him about it if he weren't locked in the school for the foreseeable future.

Mondo convinced him to try eyeliner. He says he isn't sure about it but still lets him do the eyeliner for him everyday. He's offered to teach him how to do it himself but, in a move suspiciously out of character, he decided he'd rather not learn and let Mondo do it.

He can't learn because he already knows. He watched very intently as Mondo did it whenever they had sleepovers.

Also, Leon pierced his ears. It was Taka's idea because he liked Leon's earrings but now he's doubting the decision. He's dreading his dad seeing because "I know he won't care but what if he does?!" If the killing game hadn't happened he would have grown to love his new studs but, for now, he's fighting the urge to pull them out and let them heal up because he doesn't want them to get them infected. Two years have not done anything for his overthinking.

#kiyotaka ishimaru #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #kiyotakaweek2023 #ishimondo #i feel like everything becomes a bit of an essay when i start making head cannons

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writingmaidenwarrior · 5 months

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Sin Eaters Part 7

As promised @cljordan-imperium a new chapter just for you, right before the holidays.

Warnings: talks about sex, mentions of death

After the almost interrogation by Melleis Talindra was happy to have a moment on her own at the border between the backyards and just watch the people come and go while sitting on the stone fence. At least she was a bit wiser now about how to deal with the situation at hand regarding what the higher ups expect of them after hearing how others do it. Still, she had no real idea what the deal with the horns was because Melleis just grinned and stated she will learn fast enough since she was a horned one herself. Her inkling that full grown horns become more sensitive than those stumps she had all her life became bigger and she started to get tempted to test it with Wynthan.

“What are you thinking about with this wicked smile, my little devil?”

Wynthan stepped next to her, a step behind her still, with laughter in his voice. She craned her neck to see him and let out a small, surprised squeal. If Wynthan was already good looking with the long hair tight up in his neck, the short hair with a wild long streak framing his face on the right side he was now handsome as fuck.

“Going through all the things Mel and I discussed, but damn you look good.”

A bit sheepish he pushed the longer part of hair behind his ear, or at least tried it because it was too short. Kimesnin clearly just left it long enough to frame his face and give him a little rebellious air, emphasizing his clear-cut cheek bones but not long enough to make it a hassle. Talindra snickered and reached out to let her hand wander through the short hair. He stopped her midair.

“I don’t think we are at this level of our relationship yet”, he joked.

“But you wanted to do something earlier.”

“I think pulling a prank is a different thing than letting your fingers run through a person’s hair, don’t you think?”

She crunched her face but yielded.

“Yeah, I give up.”

Slowly Wynthan put her hand down and leaned in to press a kiss on her forehead. She just sat there and blinked at him in response. His smile drew her in, and she slowly turned around to face him completely.

“What was that?”

“I just… felt like doing it…”

The smile flickered as a wave of confusion washed over his face. Talindra put her hands on his shoulders and tilted her head slightly. His hands came to rest on her hips, his thumbs pressing slightly into it and made her feel hot and cold at the same time.

“You are acting on an impulse? I thought you were too controlled for this.”

The smile came back full force. Slightly he leaned in again until only half a hand width was between their faces.

“I am less controlled sometimes than you might get the impression the last twenty-four hours. I just like to stay alive.”

“I copy this. I am slightly clingy when it comes to staying alive”, Talindra joked.

“Good, because I am afraid mom will rip my head off if something happens to you. She took a liking to you even faster than she did to Mel or anyone else.”

“Anyone else?”

“You didn’t consider I have more siblings than Gil?”

“I was busy with a nosy Sin Eater.”

“Apology accepted”, he snickered and closed the last distance.

Almost instantly Talindra wrapped her legs around his and took a deep, relaxed breath.

“Gil gave me an idea what this connection is between the two of us.”

“So?”

“We need to ask one of the elders, but if I remember right the bits and pieces it explains why we trust each other and why we sense each other but not the rest.”

“You mean the attraction.”

“Yes.”

She felt his hands moving from her hips to her back. His thumbs started drawing circled over her shirt that ignited something in her blood she hasn’t sensed in ages. Her body reacted with running hot in the most literal way. Wynthan’s snicker relaxed her.

“You are literal a little devil. Keeping secrets still from me.”

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“You also have fire, don’t you?”, he breathed into her ear.

“Only a little. I can’t really control it. Just enough to not burn me.”

One of his hands moved higher where her spine laid closer under the surface close to the neck and softly pressed a finger onto it. She yelped, jolted into him, and felt something surging through her hot and fierce that was clearly no arousal.

A second later Talindra breathed a deep breath of freedom. In a strange way it felt as shackles had been taken from her chest and she could breathe freely for the first time.

“What did you do?”

Her voice still shaky she tried to look at him, but Wynthan held her in his embrace.

“Helping you with your magic. Your fire was blocked because you are a horned one trying to pass as human.”

He stopped to nestle his face into her shoulder and sigh.

“That was this relieving sensation…”

“Just breath and sit for a moment. You might feel dizzy for the next hour.”

“How did you know what to do?”

His laughter vibrated in her body in a good way.

“Funny thing about our kind. Our magic sometimes gets blocked like muscles get cramped. Knowing where to press for each kind of magic is basic knowledge for all of us. Fire is up here. Earth down here…”, Wynthan pressed gently on the small of her back right above her ass and moved to the middle of her back right underneath the level of her ribs, “Here is the area for water, and air user get really funny.”

“Funny?”, Talindra repeated.

A moment later she felt his thumb on the base of her head, gently tapping the spot. She felt her magic immediately reacting to it with a soft wave inside her body. With a smirk she lowered her arms and wrapped them as good as possible around his waist.

“That means, I need to remember to massage your back well.”

A soft hum was the answer. She felt him smiling and anticipated him to pull another silly thing.

“You know, I might haven an idea where the attraction part comes from.”

“You do?”

Wynthan lifted his head from her shoulder what made her whimper subconsciously. He simply raised his eyebrow at her but kept his remark to him.

“We both have fire. No one knows why but those with fire magic are always more likely to be drawn to each other.”

Talindra started to get where his thoughts were going.

“The weird connection and us both having fire is what this is all about?”

“This is the current working theory. We can’t say for sure until we met with an elder and until then..”

She squinted at him not amused.

“I am afraid I know what you want to say now.”

“What do you think?”, he teased her with another kiss on her forehead.

“Not going further like this here until we talked to an elder.”

“That’s my smart little devil.”

“I hate you.”

“I hope you don’t.”

“Why?”

The spark of mischief in his eyes gave Talindra goosebumps in anticipation. He brushed his nose over hers.

“You know waiting makes things more exciting.”

“And?”

“And you forget the Festival of the Eternals is soon. We should sort it all out until then.”

“What is so special about it? It’s boring”, Talindra lamented.

“Maybe on the human side of the city but not in hell. We celebrate it with stories, good food and drinks, little games, and I am sure you will be especially fond of the nights.”

“Color me intrigued.”

“There are always houses and apartments empty and prepared for Sin Eaters during the festival. The nights are for the adventurous singles.”

The way he smirked and played with his eyebrows as he stated this gave Talindra the feeling it was meant exactly the way she understood it.

“It’s an adults only event at night.”

“It is. With special performances and many things, I don’t want to tell you beforehand.”

Leaning back to get some space between them Talindra tried to remember when the festival would be. Wynthan waited patiently for her to come up with it.

“Three weeks?”

“More or less, yes”, he confirmed, “But this gives us a lot of time to get to know each other and sort things out.”

“I have the feeling you have a plan beyond this.”

The grin on his face was beyond naughty and Talindra was baffled it was even there after all. From what she had noticed so far, she thought he would stall everything physical.

“I do, but I don’t want to spoil the surprise.”

“What changed?”

This sudden change made her skeptical and the fact he nodded and licked his lips before answering told her there was some recent event that changed his careful approach to this straightforward one.

“I had a longer talk with mom and Gil while she cut my hair. You probably got told from Mel how she and Gil are as couple?”

With a small nod Talindra confirmed it and nudged him to continue.

“It appears I might have been a bit too careful. With you being on the same page as me and us clicking right away like to cogs meant to work together we still need to watch out of course, but not as much. The higher-ups care for only one thing: children. If they get them from us because we are actually in love, or just have sex like some crazy rabbits or if I would force you as I got trained to, they don’t care.”

Her gaze dropped down to her lap. The deep breath she took went through her whole body before she nodded.

“I see. No walking on eggshells.”

“No walking on eggshells. No game of hiding. It is not uncommon for horned ones to take their partners to the festival on our side. Many children happen to come into this world like this.”

Both snickered about this because it was obvious with the horned one version of festival being a celebration of life like that. A moment later Talindra frowned.

“I need to ask your mother something.”

Gently she pushed him away and jumped down the fence. Kimesnin stood on the stove stirring something that looked like a sauce when Talindra entered.

“Kimesnin, how long are horned one pregnancies?”

“Hello and welcome back. Why do you want to know this now?”, Kimesnin replied without looking up from the pot in front of her.

“Nat and I talked about the festival and how it differs from the human version, and I think I might be one of the children that got created during one of the festivals.”

This got Kimesnin to look up and stare at Talindra in confusion.

“If the horned one is female and got pregnant from a human it is usually around eleven months of pregnancy, but since we know your father must have been part horned one already it is possible that it was shorter, around nine to ten months.”

“My birthday was two months ago. That means technically I could be a child from a festival.”

“Mom?”, Wynthan asked behind her with a weird tone.

Kimesnin, Gilmyrn and Wynthan shared a strange look until Melleis burst out laughing.

“You didn’t tell her?”

“Tell me what?”

“That should have been one of the surprises”, Wynthan sighed with a snicker.

With a waiting position Talindra looked at Melleis who looked at Wynthan with a silent “She is your partner” in her gaze.

“Part of the nightly potion of the festival is burning certain herbs that make you more relaxed and more likely to engage in sex. It is not uncommon for orgies to happen because of this.”

Talindra sucked in her lower lip to stop herself from laughing.

“In other words, there is a chance the human partner of my mother isn’t my father but a horned one?”

“Or another human with more horned one blood in him”, Kimesnin added, “Once we get you to an elder, we can get that sorted out as well. We have ways and methods humans never learned to trace bloodlines. Until then you might want to find your birth notification and your parents Sin Eater logs. If things haven’t changed in those last thirty years, you still might get access to the archives.”

Gilmyrn nodded from the side and waved with the kitchen knife in his hand.

“She is right. We have the highest security level a soldier outside the higher ups got. And yes, we still get access. One from our unit used it two years ago to find family after her parents died. In some way it is a thing most Sin Eaters do at one point.”

With the try to not laugh at the absurd picture of Gilmyrn with the kitchen knife, Talindra turned to Wynthan with a sweet smile.

“Sounds like we will spend our time getting to know each other over dusty logs.”

“I can imagine worse”, Wynthan joked and went to take the knife from Gilmyrn.

“Before anyone imagines anything far into the future, why don’t you start setting up everything outside.”

Kimesnin nodded towards the backyard with a motherly smile.

“Setting up?”

Talindra watched how Melleis and Gilmyrn went outside and pulled her with her.

“Just come with us. I guess Kimesnin wants to talk to him alone.”

“Why this?”

The face Melleis made put more question marks in Talindra’s head. Gilmyrn sighed and gently pushed her down the next chair. A quick glance inside later he took a seat opposite of her.

“Besides Nat and me, there are three more of us. One brother and two sisters, and one of the sisters had no horns”, he explained in a low voice.

A grim smile on her lips she huffed.

“She could have said something to me.”

“You have to understand this isn’t easy”, Melleis stepped in, “It is unusual that the horned one can raise their children. With their fifty years as Sin Eaters, they usually have to serve all of their children are taken away and put into the care of family. You probably noticed the amount of older folks with young kids when you went through the streets.”

With Melleis pointing it out like this Talindra realized there were mostly older folks with the children. Gilmyrn snickered as he saw her realization.

“You don’t need to feel bad. You probably thought it’s nice the grandparents spend time with their grandchildren.”

“Yeah, I did”, Talindra admitted sheepishly, “What happened that Kimesnin could raise you?”

“Nat was barely a year old when she and our father got dispatched for a double A monster with some others. Half the unit got killed. Our father was one of them, mom came back with half her bones broken and more dead than alive. She got retired because she never healed completely. With weather like today it isn’t noticeable but once it gets rainy she is in a lot of pain.”

Melleis sighed and looked towards the house.

“She probably is every day. Nonetheless she fought to be able to raise them. Stubborn like a rock this woman, and her son’s as well.”

“I have no idea what you mean, love.”

“Of course, you don’t.”

With a snicker Melleis pressed a quick peck on Gilmyrn’s cheek but Talindra’s mind was too occupied by the new information. That explained a lot of the strange questions Kimesnin asked about how Talindra grew up and how she dealt with her horns and all those things. A growing suspicion Kimesnin was afraid her allegedly human daughter was like Talindra started to grow.

“Natty was right.”

Gilmyrn’s voice pulled her out of her thoughts. His amused smirk looked a lot like Wynthan. For a moment Talindra wondered if they got it from their father.

“Right? With what?”

“You are smart. I can see in your gaze you got the right idea what mom probably will ask him to do when you go to the archive.”

“This is all rotten from the top to the core”, Talindra growled, “I need to make a list of things I want to ask the elders if they want to see me. If they have answers to my questions.”

“You won’t change it, Talindra”, Kimesnin’s voice waved over soft and defeated.

The look in her eyes told of too many fights she already fought against the system just for her children.

“I know but hopefully I won’t. You can’t tell me I am the only one who thinks this. Things will get into motion once my secret gets revealed. Even if I am safe, they will hunt down every civilian who pass as human but is a horned one. I just realized it. If I let them grow as planned, I will put a target on everyone like me and that means either I will stay in hiding or we use it as a start signal to push for changes.”

All eyes went from her to Wynthan who bit his lips with a smirk and looked at Kimesnin with a gaze that held something along the lines of “I told you she would go there” and something Talindra deciphered as proud.

A deep breath later Kimesnin smiled.

“The triumvirates have no idea what they did when they matched you two. They won’t see it coming until it’s too late.”

“Wouldn’t be fun otherwise.”

Melleis and Wynthan snickered at Talindra’s remark, but Gilmyrn groaned almost unisono with his mother.

“Eternals watch over us. We will either go down in flames or finally be free.”

#writblr #writing #wynne writes #sin eaters #part 7 #sin eaters wip #fantasy #adult audience #post apocalyptic

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saradrewitt · 1 year

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SARAH JACKALOPE I DESPERATELY NEED YOUR HELP WITH LEARNING HOW TO DRAW A TERZO EMERITUS PLEASE GET BACK TO ME

Hi! I’m so sorry this took a bit to answer!

FULL DISCLOSURE I am literally the worst person to ask because the way I do it always changes but I appreciate your trust in my inconstancy! I also have a hard time drawing him or the other papas for that matter without a reference. I can try to help the best way I can. here we go, I really hope this helps!

So the number don represent the order but just what I'll explain. First always consider the shape of the face I know this is just the sketch but we always start somewhere.

(1) Take a look at the basic jaw structure my style always make it longer than it should be but in this case I'm taking in the fact that while I made this tutorial I was looking at a photo reference. (2) Then the ears. (3) The basic middle line mark. (4) Two lines are of course for the eyes and you must realize that our eye level matches the tip of the ears show in the picture for remember that. (5) What I personally do when I draw noses it just help with a realistic measurement of the brows and the nose size. if we’re looking at this through a stylized realism way, remember that the distance between the eyes is matched by the size of the nose. this is not the case for some people but look at refs of people’s noses and see that the size of the eyes is the same size of the nose.(6) The first initial circle is the base, but remember that that won’t be the size of a head. so expand it a little bit so there is extra room to get that hairline and detail when we get to that part (I ended up not paying attention and ngl Terzo ended up with a big ass head but shhhhh I warned you)....

I went ahead and did some detail work but this is what we’ll be seeing when I draw them. from pictures you can see the age lines and it’s really just a matter if you want the detail or not, done people can do that with little detail and make it look good but my style is in constant crises all the time so this is how I do it. you can also why I have the base sketch on top of my “lineart”.

So Terzo’s hair specifically is weird in my opinion. I normally have a part I go off from when I draw hair but his just has to be weird. Either way, when I draw his I go down from the middle and just make it both have that volume and fluff he normally has. (Agin in the end result I polished it up so his part is that square like formation seen in pictures).

Okay now the fun part, the papal makeup! The deep pink lines are the base sketch I usually draw up so when I color and shade it can be adjusted if needed. It also helps me know that proportions are somewhat realistic but with a small hint of my style as well. Idk I'm still in a style crisis as we speak and it’s gotten a lot worse since I've joined this fandom.

When I think everything looks good I work with the black and color it. I normally like using our black when I work with lineart to give it that ink look. I called this blunt lineart (and shading cuz like I said my style is very inconsistent). Now if you’re working digitally I do this type of coloring on a layer on top of this sketch so when I low the opacity I can see if my placement is correct (again just of needed). if I think I got most of it correct that’s where I go I with my next step.

Wow, it’s looking like Terzo now, look at our sweet boy with the rbf, Blessimo!

So in these next few steps I just add the white and added purple wrinkle likes that were cover by the blunt lineart. You can make those line grey or white depending on your style but I like adding his colors when I draw him digitally so that’s an option. Once I have everything done I just against as needed then move on.

Lastly I finish up the lineart, work on some shadow work and add color, for sketched I don’t really do that but in this case I placed a color pallet I usually work with (it’s still gonna be inconsistent as I go) but this is usually what I do when I draw him. honestly to god my methods and process changes but I at least hope this was a helpful guide.

#ghost band #ghost #ghost ghouls #papa terzo #papa iii #papa emeritus iii #answered asks #sara jackalope’s art #sara drewitt’s art

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n3on-graveston3s-calling · 4 months

Text

The Fall of the House of C: A History of Sir Crocodile

Part I: Death of a Child

Rating: M

Word Count: 11,842

Warnings: Destruction of a kingdom, Murder, If you think that the World Government wouldn't do that…yes they would, pre-transition Crocodile, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence

Characters: Sir Crocodile, Donquioxte Doflamingo, Donquioxte Homing's Wife, Monkey D. Dragon, OCs

Author's Notes: Hello hello! If you're reading this, welcome! This is a very big, very loved project in which I decide to take on the task of creating my version of Crocodile's history, since Oda still hasn't revealed it. This is a monster of a fic; the first chapter is 11k words, the second chapter will be just as long- if not longer. This will be a two-parter, I'll finish the second half up when I'm able to (hopefully within the next week or so).

Now, the details you need to know before going into this story:

-Jun'Ichi is an OC of mine; he works as Crocodile's essential Guard Dog, has been loyal to him for twelve long years and will continue to be loyal to him.

-Milorad is an OC that has intimate connections with Crocodile, as well as a few other characters. They run a Brothel and own an entire island of which is only for… Pleasure.

-Every character you meet in Crocodile's history is an OC, but they all play vital roles.

This is purely work of my own creation; I think Crocodile is an interesting character and the concept of Kingdoms existing in each region of Blue is something that just scratches my little brain so well. ( history nerd ).

Without further ado, please do enjoy the first part of The Fall of the House of C. [ You can also read it on ao3, here. ]

The room was quiet, unlike the cacophony of sounds coming from downstairs in the parlor. Slow footsteps drew across the floor of the lavish rooms, drawing the attention of the man sitting by the window, though he didn’t look up. His gaze was trained on the crowd below, searching for any sight of white and blue uniforms. “They will not find you here, Crocodile.” They murmured, hand coming to rest upon his shoulder gently. Their nails pressed into the fabric of the coat gently as they squeezed. He glanced over, studying their hand for a long moment. Nails- fake, no doubt acrylic with how they were filed into sharp points- painted a vibrant shade of red that would catch the eye regardless of how they held their hand. Said hand was attached to an arm, intricately tattooed with blue linework that should have been at home on an expensive tea set and yet instead had been placed upon a body.

“You sound certain.” Crocodile murmured, gaze lifting to study Milorad’s face curiously. They hadn’t aged in the years he’d known them; hair such a stark silver it almost appeared white, falling in silk layers to their hips. They had offered him a place to lay low after the Impel Down escape- and the subsequent war that occurred afterwards.

They sighed, shifting away, the lavish gown they wore dusting against the floor. A silk the color of emerald with black feathers along the hemlines and cuffs with a plunging neckline, showing the flat chest and even more intricate tattoo work. Milorad had once been a pirate that sailed with the infamous Fujihara Pirates, a group that had once been a terror on the Grand Line- until they met their unfortunate end at the hand of their own children. Before that, he wasn’t sure what Milorad had done; they never did give solid answers. This and that, that and this- and now they own the island that had been dubbed Pirate’s Paradise. Brothels run in a manner of which Crocodile wished all were run, with respect to the workers and strict rules that must be followed, unless you wanted to end up with a bullet between your eyes.

The bathroom door opened, spilling out steam and the scent of whiskey and vanilla musk. Jun’Ichi stepped out, towel around his shoulders, dressed aside from a shirt. His long, black hair was still wet, dripping until he brought the towel around the ends, squeezing gently. “Thank you for allowing us to use your room,” Jun’Ichi spoke, lips curving into a small, if not crooked, smile- due to the scar that trailed up from one corner of his lips. A partial Dahlia. He’d had it when he appeared in Alabasta twelve years ago, begging for a job.

He was still here.

“Of course, darling,” Milorad purred, crossing over to take over, drying Jun’s hair for him with gentle caresses. “Any member of Crocodile’s crew is always welcome upon my Island. Did you enjoy your shower?”

“I wish we had something like that on the ship!” He joked lightly, though his gaze was wary, watching Crocodile watch him.

A knock sounded on the door, drawing all attention over as Daz opened it, poking his head in. “Coast’s all clear.”

“Good. Go grab some supplies.” Crocodile sighed, dragging a hand through his still slightly damp hair.

Milorad’s hand reached out, fingers curving around the edge of the door. “I need to make my rounds. Do be sure to grab something to eat, it will be on the house, Elio.” With that, they slipped out, the scent of their rose parfum escaping with them. Jun’Ichi plopped down onto the bed, his gaze still lingering on the door.

“Milorad is to you as a mongoose is to a cobra. They will eat you alive and keep your corpse around for fun.” Crocodile warned as he opened the case on the small table, pulling free a cigar.

Jun’Ichi hummed as he looked away. That wasn’t why he had been staring. Sure, Milorad was a stunning individual with a voice that sent chills across his skin, but the name… Elio. Did it mean something in their mother tongue?

“Gods, I can hear the gears turning in your head from here.” Crocodile muttered, rubbing a hand over his eyes as smoke spilled from his lips. His fingers idly tapped the cigar against the ashtray. “Ask.”

“What does Elio mean?”

“Not what, who.”

“Pardon?”

“Jun’Ichi, are you stupid? Were you dropped on your head as a child, perhaps?” He taunted as the cigar returned to his lips, his gaze sliding slowly over to Jun’Ichi as the scent of cloves began to linger in the air.

He bristled, jaw clenching. That was bait. “No- then who does it refer to?”

An exhale; a cloud of smoke billowing into the air. “Myself.”

“Elio is your true… Surname?”

“Given name. Conti is the surname.”

“Elio Conti.” The pause that settles in the air grows pregnant. “From… From the House of Conti?”

“The one and only.”

“Is that why you don’t talk about your past?”

“One of the reasons.”

“Is that the secret that Ivankov has?”

“No.” He watched in amusement as Jun’Ichi’s features twisted themselves into a confused mess. Nose scrunched up, brows furrowing in. Even after twelve years, the man knew so very little. And truthfully, Crocodile preferred to keep it that way- but it didn’t seem as if it would be staying as such. Kicking his feet up on the arm of the chair across from him, he settled in, eyes closing. “It’s a long story. I suppose you deserve to know at least some of it, yes?” He had been loyal for over a decade, had stood by his side even when Nico Robin had abandoned him for her lies, for her own agenda.

“It all began on an island in the South Blue…” ───

Forty-five Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

“How is she?” Gian Carlo Conti, Lord of the House of Conti, asks the doctor as he steps out, wiping his hands clean of blood. “My wife, how is she?”

“She is well. Congratulations, my lord- you have a daughter.” The Doctor, a peculiar man with the most intense blue eyes Gian Carlo had ever seen, smiles at him. “You can go in and see them both.”

Pushing past the doctor, he throws the doors open, lips curling into a bright smile at the sight of his wife and newborn daughter. “Oh, amore mio!” He cried, rushing to her side to wrap an arm around Francesca, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Look at you! Look at her!” Cooing as he drew back, studying his daughter. He reached up, brushing a finger against her rosy cheek. “She looks like you.”

“Good, she should, after what she just put me through,” Francesca groaned as she settled back against the pillows, her brows furrowing in discomfort. “She is a big baby, she takes after your side for that.” Teasing gently, she gazed up at her husband, lavender meeting emerald. “We have a daughter.”

“I am so happy,” he whispered, tears welling up in his gaze. “I did not think we would ever see this day! A daughter…”

“... I had hoped for a son,” Francesca admitted softly, shaking her head as she gazed down at the girl. “But I will love her regardless, for she is ours, and she is our future.”

“The future of the House of Conti.”

“Welcome to the world, Eli.”

Little Eli cooed, not yet aware of the dangers that lay ahead for her. No, all she was aware of was how warm the blanket that she was wrapped up in was, the faint hunger she felt in her little tummy, and the soft voices that spoke overhead. She couldn’t see, not yet; couldn’t understand them, either, but she felt warm, and safe, and happy.

Lady Eli Conti, the only child born to Gian Carlo and Francesca Conti, was born on the fifth of September in the early morning hours. The first and only child born to the Lord and Lady of the House of Conti, and who would grow to be the only remaining child of the House of Conti. The House itself would be left to ruin, the family no longer living. But how does this happen? How does a family that had once considered itself to be one of the largest royalties in the South Blue simply fall to ruin over the span of a decade?

Well, darling, isn’t that the question.

It all begins with a man- as most tales do, unfortunately. ───

“Wait, hold on.” Jun’Ichi interrupted, waving his hand in the air.

Crocodile sighed, head lolling to the side to stare at his underling. “What?” He snapped, annoyed at having been stopped from his story.

“Did you have a sister? Like, an older sister?”

“... No.”

“Then who the fuck is Eli?”

A slow smile spread across his lips as he laughed, shaking his head. “You’ll figure it out soon enough. Ne, call down to the kitchen and have them send us up something. Daz is taking too long.”

“Probably got distracted by that pretty waiter he couldn’t stop staring at earlier,” Jun muttered as he leaned over, taking hold of the Denden. ───

40 Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

“Elia Luna Conti, get back here!” Came the voice of the mean tutor. Eli didn’t listen, running as fast as her two legs could carry her through the grand halls of the manor. Step after step, she ran, turning this way then that.

‘He doesn’t know these halls like I do,’ she thought as she ran, breaths puffing out of her. She turned the next corner and came skidding to a halt, very nearly toppling into the back of the legs of a very tall man. He turned, staring down at her with obvious amusement. His beard was long, as was his mustache- and the hair on his head. Why did he have so much hair?

“Eli!” Momma hissed, and Eli turned, eyes widening further at the sight of her mother dressed all formal. She was wearing the pink gown, the one with the white lace that felt scratchy against her hands and arms when Momma held her. “I’m so sorry, you must forgive my daughter-”

“Such is the delights of children.” The funny looking one with the hair spoke, and when he spoke, his long mustache bobbed with the movement.

Momma came to her, sweeping her up in her arms to hold her close. “Eli, why aren’t you in your lessons?” Her voice was soft, but not sweet. Why was she not being sweet with her? She didn’t understand why she was being scolded. She was tired of her lessons, she’d been in there for what felt like ages. “Momma and Poppa are in a very important meeting-”

“She may remain.” The one without hair spoke, his face stern and mean and it reminded her of her tutor. “We are almost finished here.”

“Of course.” Poppa nodded. Momma settled her on her lap, even as the lace scratched against her arms. She didn’t wiggle free, though, not now. This was a serious thing, even though the words didn’t make much sense.

“You understand why we must be made clear of the nature of this… Issue, yes?” Baldy asked Poppa, who nodded. The curls he had bobbed with the movement. She wondered if her hair would ever curl like his. She had Momma’s hair, straight and thick, but it wasn’t blonde like hers. “If this proceeds, and you continue to bleed into the red, we will be forced to intervene.” She had Poppa’s color, down to how her skin tanned in the sun during the warm months. “I understand that those who target you are skilled, but you have an army at your disposal.”

“We have no Navy,” Poppa’s voice was tense. Was he angry? He looked more scared than angry. Why was he scared? Why were Momma’s hands shaking? She didn’t understand.

“You have canons. You have ground artillery. You have the means to protect yourself.”

“Not if the World Government pulls away from our shores!”

“That is simply not up to you to decide.” Mister Mustache sighed, shaking his head. She wanted to reach out and touch his hair. It looked soft. Did he brush it one hundred times, like Momma did with her hair every night? “There have been other issues popping up in the East Blue. You’ve heard of them, no?”

“The Dark King and Roger, no?”

“And Whitebeard.”

“Whitebeard is in the North Blue?” Momma asked, her head tilting. It made her earrings jingle; she reached up to play with them, though Momma moved her hands away. She pouted. “Or has he moved out?”

“He’s made his move to the Grand Line.”

“But that is not our topic of discussion. You know your time limit. You know what must be done. If you do not succeed-”

“Will you send Cipher Pol to our doorstep, then?” Poppa asked, rising to his feet. The other men rose quickly. Was Poppa going to fight? She hoped he would. The last time he fought, he won, and then they celebrated! But that was on the back of one of their horses, and he was wearing a suit of armor. This didn’t look like that kind of fight. What was Cipher Pol? That was a funny name. Were they entertainers? She looked up to Momma, watching the way her eyes flickered between the three men.

“We will do what we must.”

“As will we.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It is a promise.”

Eli stopped paying attention, then. She was focused on Momma’s necklace; enlaid with so many diamonds, she couldn’t even begin to try to count them. Diamonds and emeralds, those were her jewels, Momma said. The same way that gold and emerald were Eli’s. The men were leaving, Eli noticed, watching as they walked out. The one with the beard gave her a little wave, and she waved back. Momma was talking quietly to Poppa, whispering.

“Eli…” Poppa sighed as she turned to face him, reaching over for him to take her. “Eli, you need to go back to your studies, okay? Just for a little bit.”

“I do not want to.” Eli huffed, flopping forward against her father, who made a funny little ‘oof’ sound. “He smells of fish and talks weird.”

“Well, he is part fishman.” Momma sighed, reaching over to brush her fingers through her hair. “... Perhaps we can take a break today, no? I believe we could use some time in the gardens.”

“Yes!” Eli cheered, sitting back up. Poppa smiled, though it didn’t reach his eyes. His eyes were sad. She reached up, patting at his cheeks. “Do not be sad! Happy. Happy Poppa!”

“I am happy, mio angelo.”

She didn’t believe him, but the gardens were calling for her. “Garden! Can we have a picnic?”

“Well,” Momma glanced at the big granddaddy clock, studying the time. “I don’t see why not? A picnic lunch in the garden would be wonderful. Come, Gianny.”

“You have to use the nickname,” Poppa leaned over, giving Momma a kiss to her cheek that had Eli giggling, “Call for the kitchen to prepare us something light. I do not wish to spoil dinner.”

“Ovviamente.” Momma left, her skirts swirling about her legs.

Poppa carried her out of the house. As they passed the room her tutor was in, she stuck her tongue out at him. He did not laugh. He adjusted his funny little glasses and gathered up his boring schoolbooks. Good, Eli thought. He could leave and never come back! She didn’t need him. She could learn from Poppa and Momma.

He set her down, watching as she bolted down the marble steps and into the rose garden, giggling up a storm. “What are we going to do?” Gian murmured as Frencesca settled in at his side, her arm curling around his own.

She didn’t answer him at first, her lips pursed into a small frown. ‘She’s going to get her dress dirtied again.’ She thought, before considering her husband’s question. “... Perhaps we should contact a shipbuilder? We could have at least one ship fit for fighting off those damned pirates.”

“I’m worried, ‘Cesa.”

“I know, Gianny. I know. But… Let’s worry another day, yes? Not now. Look at our daughter! Look at how she’s having fun. I think…” She reached down, tugging off the heels that had been hurting her feet all morning. “I’m going to join her!” With that, Francesca gathered her skirts and ran down the stairs, listening to the way Gian laughed behind her. Eli squealed as she scooped her up, spinning her around and around.

Elia Luna Conti is five years old. She is happy. She is loved. She is safe. ───

Thirty Nine Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

“I don’t WANNA!” Eli yelled, struggling to sit still in the chair. “Why do I have to keep my hair long?”

“Because it’s proper for a young lady,” Miss Katherine sighed as she brushed out Eli’s mane that she called hair. First, it was the struggle with the bath. Then, the struggle to wear a dress rather than trousers. Now, a struggle with the hair. “Sit still.”

“I’ll cut it all off!”

“If you do, your mother will weep.”

“It’s not her hair!”

“Why do you have such a problem with having your hair long?”

Eli went quiet. She didn’t like the way she looked with such long hair. It was too thick, for one, and for two, she didn’t like how hot it made her. Or the silly hairstyles Miss Katherine would do. Or the way her mother’s nails would snag in her hair on a tangle. She didn’t like wearing the dresses either. They felt weird on her body, like they were made for someone else, not for her.

… They made climbing trees difficult, too. And running. Kicking balls.

“Dunno,” she answered after a while. Miss Katherine sighed and settled simply on braiding her hair. “Sometimes, I wish I was born a boy, so I wouldn’t have to sit here and do all this junk.”

“Don’t we all, Miss Conti, don’t we all.”

No, Eli thought. No, we don’t all think that. She stared at herself in the mirror with a frown. She wondered if she could convince her mother to let her wear the trousers and blouse today, instead of the stuffy green dress with scratchy lace. It wasn’t even one of her favorite dresses; the green was too light, the lace wasn’t detailed! “Why is this dinner so important?” She asked, kicking her feet in the chair as Miss Katherine stepped around to the front of her. Her eyes were blue, and her hair was gray, and she had wrinkles. A lot of them, Elio noticed. Elio. That’s what she had started referring to herself as. It sounded better than Eli, which grated on her ears, or Elia, which didn’t even sound like her name. No, she much preferred Elio. Elio Luna Conti; that was a strong sounding name for a strong… Girl.

“It simply is.” Miss Katherine hummed as she fixed the small hairs around her forehead. “... Do you really wish to not wear this dress?”

“No. I feel like a fat frog in it.”

Miss Katherine sighed; she had lost this battle, it seemed. “Very well. Go change into your trousers and pick out a shirt.”

Elio beamed as she shuffled out of the chair before bolting to her bedroom. Her heart raced in her chest as she approached her closet, throwing open the doors to stare at the many dresses that hung. Shoving them aside, she grabbed for the deep green blouse that made her think of pirates, with its poofy sleeves and ruffled collar. They wanted her to wear green, so she would wear green. But not that ugly dress with the cheap, scratchy lace. No. This was better. More comfortable than that stupid old dress. Where had it even come from? She wasn’t sure, really. Certainly not from their tailor, not something that her mother would have had made. Perhaps it was a gift? That's more likely, she decided as she tugged the shirt over her head. Better.

Much better.

The next task at hand was to find a pair of trousers that would match what she wore. Would brown be a good idea? Or perhaps black, considering how rich the green of the fabric was. Certainly not something light colored, especially for dinner. That was asking for a mistake, for her to drop some sort of sauce on her trousers. No, she would need to find something dark.

“Perhaps a skirt?” Miss Katherine asked as she entered the bedroom, closing the door behind herself. She paused, looking at the girl- at the way she had somehow managed to mess up all her hard work with her hair. They were simply out of time for her to try and fix it, now. Grumbling under her breath, she shuffled over to the closer and began rummaging around. “But you would prefer to wear trousers, wouldn’t you?”

“Trousers, please!” Elio agreed, clambering atop her bed with a grin. She faced the mirror beside her bed, reaching up to undo the annoying little pins that Miss Katherine had placed in her hair, tugging them out. “Can you just… tie my hair back low? Like Poppa’s?”

“Yes, I suppose I can.”

And that was how Lady Elio Conti made her way down to dinner, dressed in a richly green silk shirt, dark brown trousers, a pair of heeled boots that Katherine was almost certain were her riding boots, and her hair tied back- just like her Poppa’s. Momma sighed when she saw her, shaking her head in amused frustration. Of course Elio wouldn’t wear a dress; she detested those things, now.

“There she is!” Francesca cooed, leaning down to scoop up her daughter into her arms. The dress she wore was complimentary; a rich emerald dinner gown that had black velvet embroidery work sewn into the fabric along the body of the dress. “There’s someone for you to meet, Elio!”

“Who?” It was rare for other children to visit the House of Conti. She leaned around her mother’s shoulder, catching sight of an odd looking woman who wore the strangest clothes- and a bundle of fabric that wriggled in her arms. A fat little arm struck out, reaching up to the woman’s face. She had light blonde hair, lighter than Momma’s own. “What’s that?”

“That,” Francesca whispered as she stepped closer, “Is a baby.”

“It looks funny.”

“Well, yes, so did you as a baby!”

“What’s it’s name?” Elio asked the woman, watching the way she looked up. She looked tired, she noted; the same way Momma does after a long day. Maybe they had to travel a long way to get here? That would make sense; they don’t live on this island.

“His name is Doflamingo.”

“Like the bird?”

“Yes,” the woman laughed at that, nodding her head. “Just like the bird.” ───

“Wait, so you met Doflamingo when he was a baby?” Jun’Ichi asked as Crocodile stretched; the sun having set over the horizon. The sounds of muffled pleasure drifted through the crack under the door. The brothel was certainly in full swing tonight, it seemed.

Crocodile’s gaze swept across the room, studying the little trinkets that Milorad kept. “Yes. Of course, I wouldn't put two and two together until much later in life, after he’d made a name for himself.”

“Does he know?”

“Doubtful. That was the one and only time that the Donquioxte family visited, as far as I know.”

“Huh…” Jun shifted, rolling over in the bed to stretch out his limbs. “You’re six years old, at a formal dinner.”

“The dinner isn’t important. What happens after is what’s important.” ───

Thirty Nine Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

The voices were hushed in the hallway. Elio paused as she cracked her door open; she needed to potty, but something told her to wait. To stand here and listen. What that was, she isn’t quite sure; perhaps a sixth sense, perhaps a ghost of family members long since passed. Either way, she pressed her little body against the wall beside her door, leaned her head as close as she could to the crack, and strained to listen.

“She’s just a child, Gian!” Momma hissed; she sounded angry, angry enough that it made Elio wonder if something had happened. “You can’t seriously be considering this!”

“I don’t think we have much a choice!” Poppa replied, sighing heavily. “I know the Marine; he’s a good man. And he has a son a few years older than her. If we are able to enter into a talk of some sort, we could promise her to him, and then we would be fine. Safe. She would have a place to go!”

“But marriage?”

Marriage? For who? Elio frowned at that. One of the serving girls? But why would they be talking of marrying a serving girl off? That made no sense. They couldn’t be talking of her, could they? She was only six! She didn’t even know how to play the viola yet! ( Her lessons were going good, though; she was a natural, according to her tutor. Almost as good as she was at playing the piano, but she liked the viola more. It was prettier, easier for her fingers to reach, even if it made her arms sore after playing for longer than ten minutes. )

“Monkey D. Garp is legendary and has climbed the ranks of the Marines quickly,” Gian Carlo explained, gaze trained on the fire that crackled low, slowly dying in the late night. Francesca huffed, pacing across the rug in front of the window that offered a lovely view of the lower garden, where they grew their produce. “And his son is showing promise.”

“You mean Monkey D. Dragon?”

“Yes.”

“You want to marry our daughter to someone who has the Will of D?”

Elio fell still; it felt as if someone had doused her in ice water. Marry her? But she was just a kid! She couldn’t get married! She leaned closer, straining to hear her parents.

“I want to arrange a marriage of politics to ensure that we will not be slaughtered like cattle in four years, Francesca!” Gian’s voice rose sharply, echoing against the walls in the reading room. He turned to face his spouse, his chest rising and falling quickly. His gaze was wide, frantic; fearful. “After what we have learned tonight-”

“We haven’t had anything confirmed. You know how the Donquioxte family is; they’ve always been filled with paranoia and power.” Francesca countered, attempting to ease her own anxiety. “Remember what they used to say when we were young? Every time a Donquixote is born, the Gods hold their breath and flip a coin!”

“Have you forgotten the threat that we already received?” Gian’s voice had a nearly hysterical tone to it now, pitched upwards in a way that made Elio’s skin crawl, had her arms wrapping around herself. “I will NOT sit here and watch the minutes tick by as we do nothing!”

“Do NOT raise your voice at your wife!”

“I WILL DO AS I PLEASE!”

The next sound was one Elio hadn’t heard before. It was sharp, sudden; echoing across the halls, bouncing round the corners. It felt as if the house itself had stopped in that moment, ceasing all activity. Mice had gone still, the clocks ceased to tick. “Do not. Ever. Speak to me in such a manner again, Gian Carlo Conti, or I will be the reason you fear the night. Do you understand me?” Francesca spoke in a clear, even tone, her chin raised high, lavender gaze sparkling with anger no longer subdued. “Go to one of the guest rooms. We will not be sharing our bed until you have the balls you claim to possess to apologize to me.”

Poppa didn’t respond, even as Momma walked away. Elio shrunk back from the door, hands damp and cold and shaking, pressing to her cheeks as she tried to quiet her breathing. She made her way back to her bed, climbing back up and under the blankets. Her parents had been fighting- over her. Over marrying her. She didn’t want to be married. She was only a kid, she didn’t want some icky husband, especially one with the name like Monkey D. Dragon. Who names their child after two animals?

… She didn’t want to marry. She didn’t want to wear a white dress. She didn’t want to be a wife.

Elio curled over on her side, pulled her blankets up higher, and fell back to sleep with newfound worries plaguing her young mind. ───

Thirty Eight Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

Breathe in, breathe out. Chin level, gaze settled on the target in front of her. She drew the bowstring back, taught in her hand, leveled the arrow, and released it with her breath. The arrow loosed from the notch, screaming softly through the air with a sound akin to a bird’s cry, and struck home in the center of the target’s big, red bull’s eye. Behind her, her father applauded her. “Well done, mio caro!”

“Do you think we could move it farther back next time?” Elio asked, glancing up towards her archery instructor, who nodded.

Penelope was a strong woman; a short giantess of nearly four hundred and twenty six centimeters in height. Her hair was stark white, cut short around her chin. Poppa had hired her after the fight last year to train her in different forms of combat. She was excelling in archery; proficient in hand to hand combat ( for a seven year old ). She would be trained in sword fighting next. “We could, yes. Do you think you’re ready for that?”

“I am.” Elio nodded, turning away to hand off her bow to the waiting serving girl. “Poppa, I’m hungry!” Her stomach growled as if to solidify her sentiments. A glance towards the top of the hill confirmed her assumptions: Momma was nowhere to be seen. Her lips twitched in mild irritation as she climbed up the grassy knoll, listening the birds sing their cheery little songs overhead. “Can we eat now?” Mumbled into the wind, she reached out to take Poppa’s hand, giving it a squeeze as they walked along the path towards the house.

The house wasn’t the castle. The castle was back towards the coast, in town. This was a house, something small that they came to when it came time to practice this. Three rooms, a kitchen, and a sitting parlor. “Is Momma alright?” She asked curiously as Penelope stepped up behind them. Penelope leaned down to scoop her up, carrying her upon her shoulders, much to her delight. Elio squealed, holding onto Penelope’s head- careful not to pull her hair, that would hurt, and she doesn’t want to hurt Penelope.

“Momma needed to go lay down. She was feeling faint again.” Poppa answered with a shake of his head. Momma had gotten sick four months ago, and it refused to let go of her. Her lungs wheezed with breaths at times; others, she could barely leave the bed. “But she’ll be joining us for lunch.”

“Good!” Slumping forward, Elio rested her chin upon Penelope’s head, watching as the house came into view. Yet, something had caught her attention: a twig snapping to their left. She sat up slowly, head swiveling to the left to study the woods.

The birds had stopped singing.

“Poppa?” She whispered, drawing her father’s attention. He, along with the two guards that followed his every step ( Viper and Scorpion, who had been by his side for well over two decades. They were uncles to her; brothers to him not in blood, but in spirit. ), stilled. “Someone’s there.”

“Penelope-” Poppa didn’t get to finish his sentence as an arrow flew out; wide, a shitty shot. Penelope leaned down in one fell swoop, dropping her down into Gian’s awaiting arms, who then passed her over to Scorpion. “Run! Quickly, now!”

“Yes, sir!” Scorpion took off in a sprint; Elio clung to him, arms wrapped around his shoulders, legs around his ways. They had practiced this since she had been old enough to talk. He kept one arm wrapped around her middle, holding her close as the sounds of fighting ensued behind them. “What do you see, little Croc?” Croc- Crocodile, her favorite reptile- that was his nickname for her. What they all called her when they needed to use code names. She was Crocodile, Momma was Swan, and Poppa was King Snake.

“Men!” Elio gasped out, breath getting jostled out of her with each hard footfall from Scorpion. He was a big man- tall and broad and fast. “I think four? Penelope is grabbing Poppa and pushing him back!”

“What do the men look like?” Scorpion urged as he neared the house, gaze raking over the door. It hadn’t been busted down, hadn't been opened. The house was calm. Quiet.

“I think they’re pirates!”

“Pirates?” Scorpion set Elio down, blocking her view with his body as he turned to watch.

Penelope grabbed one of the men- certainly a pirate, given their mangy appearance and cutlasses and barbaric yells- and slammed him over her knee He could hear the way his spine broke from here, could hear the strangled, gurgle of a scream that bubbled free from his lips as she tossed him aside.

An arrow shot free from the trees. Another? Their archer! The arrow flew strong and true, sinking into the tender flesh of Penelope’s thigh. She screamed as she reached down, grabbing it. Viper covered her, striking down another man as Gian Carlo continued to hold off two on his own.

“Inside, quickly now!” Scorpion reached over, grabbing hold of the handle of the door, pushing it open to shove her inside. “Go to you mother!”

“Save Poppa!” Elio cried as Scorpion closed the door on her. She could hear his heavy footsteps as he retreated, leaving her in the quiet. She turned away from the door, looking around before spotting the cracked open door of her mother’s room. “Momma! Momma!” She yelled, running in, the door swinging wide to clang against the wall.

“What on Earth are you doing?!” Momma gasped, reaching out to grab hold of her child. “What is wrong?!”

“Pirates, Momma!”

“Pirates?” Francesca looked up, gaze locked on the door. “Where’s your father?”

“With Viper and Scorpion and Penelope! They’re fighting them!”

“Quickly, come with me!” Francesca pulled Elio close, her arms winding around her child. “We need to hide!” With a flurry of movement, skirts swirling in the afternoon light, she pulled open the wardrobe, parting the clothing, fingers brushing against the back. Oh, where was it?

Elio watched as Francesca reached inside. What was she doing? They didn’t need clothes! She was about to protest before she watched as the back swung open, revealing a hidden room. “Come, inside!” Francesca climbed in first, dragging Elio in behind her. She pushed Elio into the secret room as she closed the wardrobe behind her. Elio stumbled in the dark, falling to her hands and knees with a muffled hiss of pain as her skin scrapes against the rough concrete. She turns, watching as the last sliver of light is shut out as Francesca closes the door, trapping them in this odd, hidden room. Sh can hear her mother more than see her as she moves through the darkness, before the distinct sound of a match striking fills the silence.

Oil lamp.

“What is this place?” Elio asks in childish bewilderment, her gaze drifting across the room. It’s bigger than she thought; was this what was behind the hallway? She looked down; the floor dipped into a gradual slope. A secret tunnel?! “Momma?”

“This is a tunnel that my father built when I was just a girl.” Momma explained as she hung the lamp for a moment. She took the ribbon from her hair and reached down, gathering her skirts up in a manner Elio had never seen before. “He built this tunnel in case something ever happened and we needed to escape.” She pulled them between her legs, creating makeshift trousers, to which she then tied the excess fabric together at her side. Reaching over, she took hold of the lamp once more and reached a hand out, grasping Elio’s much smaller- and now slightly bloodied- hand. “We must hurry, now.”

“But what about Poppa?” Her mind flashed to the fight, to the sound of swords clashing, of muffled yells.

Francesca shook her head. “He knows where we’ll be.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, bambina.” She tugged. And Elio had no choice but to follow.

They walked for what felt like hours, but really couldn’t have been longer than perhaps one hour, given how the sun hadn’t moved much in the sky. The floor had dipped low before rising back up into an incline as they breached the surface. It took all of Francesca’s strength to push the hidden cellar door open, and when she did, she waited a moment, listening intently before climbing out. “Gian?”

“Cesca?” Came Gian Carlo’s voice through the woods. Francesca ran to her husband, throwing her arms around his shoulders as a sob escaped her.

Hands reached down, picking Elio up out of the dark tunnel and into the light once more. Penelope, with a weary, tired smile and dirt smeared across her face. Viper and Scorpion stood off to the side, just as weary from their fight- and then the walk to find this. “There we are, poppet,” Penelope murmured, brushing Elio’s hair back from her face. “I bet you’re tired.”

“Very. Can we go home?” Elio asked as she leaned her head forward, resting it against Penelope’s shoulder. “I wanna go home.”

“Yes, mio angelo, we’re going home.” Poppa sighed as he walked over, reaching up to brush his fingers against her leg. He had blood smeared across his face, Elio noticed. Blood on his hands, too.

It would not be the first time she would see blood on her father’s face. ───

The door opened as Daz slipped in, arms laden down with bags of supplies.

“Good,” Crocodile sighed as he rose from his chair. “Milorad is having dinner sent up here for us.”

“How are you feeling?” Jun’Ich asked Daz, watching the way the man grimaced. “You should rest, now.”

“I will, soon.”

Crocodile idly looked through the bags, studying the medical supplies. Good; they’d certainly needed those. “Any questions before I continue?” He asks, glancing over his shoulder at Jun’Ichi. He’d begun brushing out his hair, which had finally dried. Crocodile’s fingers twitched; the memory of silken strands wrapped around his fist rushing to the surface briefly.

“You were going to be pledged to Monkey D. Dragon?”

Daz snorted, shaking his head as he moved towards the bathroom. “I’m taking a shower. You’re telling him the story?”

“He deserves to know. Milorad can’t keep their mouth shut.” Turning, he faced one of the most loyal members of his crew. “You have known me for over a decade, now. I fear this truth would have gotten out regardless.”

Jun shifted to sit back against the headboard, his arms looping behind his head. “Okay. Go on.”

“Is that an order?” Sir Crocodile mused, head tilting, a dangerous glint within his gaze that had Jun’Ichi snorting.

“No, sir.”

“Very well.” ───

Thirty Six Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

She shifted, turning this way then that, admiring her reflection. The waistcoat fit better than her dresses did; with the archery, the sword training, the lessons with her viola, her shoulders were growing broader. She didn’t fit into most of her gowns from her youth due to this growth spurt, something Elio was secretly happy with. Dresses felt strange on her form. Uncomfortable. As if they were meant for someone else, not for her.

No, suits were better.

“What’s on the schedule for today?” Mother asked, her head tilting as she watched Elio model the newly tailored suit. The waistcoat was modeled after the ones she wore when riding her horse; the trousers were modified mens’ trousers, and the blouse was one she already had in her closet.

“I have to attend my afternoon lessons,” Elio answered, turning away from her reflection to study her mother. Francesca had grown pale over the past two years; still struggling with her health in the aftermath of the mysterious sickness that had struck her. She was starting to go prematurely grey at her temples, as well, though in Elio’s opinion, it made her look more dignified.

“Which lessons?” Francesca pressed, her gaze drifting down to the journal she had balanced in her lap. She was writing something down; what it was, Elio wasn’t sure. “Lets see, today is Wednesday, so that means-”

“A History of the World Government, Mathematics, and the Sciences of the New World.” Elio answered, hopping down from the platform to wander over to her mother, flopping against the armchair she reclined in. “I heard something earlier from one of the servants.”

Francesca hummed curiously, a fine, thin eyebrow raising to show her curiosity.

“That there’s a new group of pirates terrorizing the Seas. They’re calling themselves the Roger Pirates, after their Captain.” Elio sighed in an almost dream-like fashion. Ever since having the run in with the rogue pirates two years prior, her head had been filled with fantasies of adventuring across the seas, of finding treasure, of becoming a captain of a fierce crew.

“The Roger Pirates have been around for a few years, now.” Francesca closed her journal, her brows furrowing inward, creasing in the middle in a new wrinkle she hadn’t had the year prior. “They’re led by a man named Gol D. Roger and the Dark King, Silvers Rayleigh.”

“You’ve heard of them?” Elio gasped, eyes widening in surprise as she turned, nearly falling over herself in her haste. “Mother, tell me more!”

“Ask your tutor, he’ll know more than I.” Francesca tutted softly, rising with a swirl of her skirts. “I have to attend tea with some of the ladies of the minor nobility.”

“Gross. All you do is sit and sip tea and gossip,” Elio stuck her tongue out as Francesca smoothed a hand over her head. She was growing taller; she’d be taking after her father’s height.

Francesca laughed softly, shaking her head as her daughter walked ahead of her, arms swinging at her sides. She truly was her father’s daughter, she thought to herself. Bold, brave, levelheaded. She would make a wonderful Lady one day. As they walked through the halls, Francesca’s mind wandered. They had less than a year before the World Government would be at their door, but no more word had been sent, had been heard since that day upon the arrival of those men. Teeth worried the inside of her cheek, biting upon the flesh tenderly. They had threatened then and there to procure a Buster Call, to wipe any and all trace of them, of the island, of their bloodline- all because of a money discrepancy. It wasn’t as if they were going to bleed their citizens dry! That was simply preposterous, though she knew better. That wasn’t the real reason.

No. She herself was the reason. Daughter of a Celestial Dragon, whose bloodline goes back as far as the beginning of the Void Century, and her refusal to admit that she knew where the plans were for that weapon. Fingers clutched the journal tight enough that the leather creaked.

“Have fun at your gossipy tea drinking time!” Elio teased as she flounced into the library, leaving Francesca standing in the hall to watch. It would all be fine. Nothing would happen.

She would make sure of it. Even if it cost her everything.

“I have a question!” Elio exclaimed in lieu of a greeting.

Her tutor- an older gentleman with white hair and crow’s feet at the corners of his eyes- looked up from his lesson plan. A smile curved his lips as he watched her approach with all the confidence of a grown adult. “What would your question be?” Caleb questioned, closing his lesson plan for the moment.

“What do you know of Whitebeard? And the Roger Pirates?” She questioned, settling down in a chair at the table.

Caleb paused, appearing almost flabbergasted at the question before sighing. “Well… I really only know some of the basic information.”

“Well, tell me what you know.”

“Why the interest in those two?”

“Its an interest in pirates in general.”

“Planning on running off to be a pirate?” He teased, watching the way her cheeks heated up. She shrugged, and he decided in that moment that his lesson plans could wait for another day. “Very well. Tell you what- how about we take a field trip?”

“You mean it?” She perked up, already rising to her feet. “Please?”

“Come along. Sometimes, it’s easier to explain with something other than books and maps.” Walking to the large doors that lead out to the garden, Caleb waved down one of the serving boys. “Tell His Majesty that I am taking Her Royal Highness to the beach for a lesson on history and science.”

“I- yes, sir.”

“Wonderful.” He opened the door, ushering her outside into the warm spring air. Caleb offered her his arm, to which she took in order to keep up with him better. He was much taller and had weirdly long legs, in her opinion. “So, our lesson today will be on pirates.”

“How do you become a pirate?” Elio asked, her head tilting, causing her braid to sway with the movement. “I know you aren’t born into piracy like you’re born into royalty, right?”

“Yes- and no. Pirates have children who take up piracy the same way that royals have children who become royals themselves. Or others opt not to, like how your uncle chose to become a Marine rather than pursue the crown.”

Her lips pursed as she thought that over. How strange it must be to be born into piracy. “So, how do you become a pirate?” She pressed once more as the paved walkway turned to cobblestone beneath their feet.

“You choose.”

“You choose?”

“Yes. Most pirates do not simply start up on their own and suddenly decide that they’ll have a crew and a ship. Piracy is as much a business as opting to become a merchant or a Marine.” Caleb gestured towards the town to their left, then the port in front of them. “There is business in piracy. You must decide if you wish to start off on your own- and if you do that, you must purchase a boat. If you don’t know how to navigate, then you’ll need to find a Navigator, at the very least.”

“Like, someone who reads a map?”

“Or someone who can track your course by the stars.”

Her eyes widened as she stopped, staring up at Caleb in obvious surprise. “You can do that?!” She whispered, fingers clutching to his coat. “Caleb, can you teach me how to do that?!”

“I- Miss Conti, I’m no Navigator-”

“But you taught me the constellations! And you know how to read maps! You were once a merchant, you must know some things, no?”

Caleb’s gut twisted; he was certainly a merchant, once. Even though his roots were far deeper than mere mercantilism. “I… I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to teach you that, as well.” She would need to know, one day. Even if what the rumors whispered proved to be false, it would never hurt for her to know. “Now, pirates. You wished to know of Roger and Whitebeard, yes?”

Her head bobbed as they continued their walk, cobblestone slowly giving way to sand. “Gol D. Roger has been around for quite some years, now; he isn’t a young upstart, but he is impressive from what I have learned.” And so began the story of Gol D. Roger, the Dark King Rayleigh Silvers, and how the two joined forces to create the slowly growing to be infamous Roger Pirates.

Elio drank in all of the information, her mind running a mile a minute. Such magnificent stories of heroism, of fighting the World Government, of exploration. It sparked a fire that would never go out, not after this. Once they returned from their beach visit, she pulled out maps of the South Blue and begged Caleb to teach her how to read it.

And he did. Where the island she resided on was, how the currents directed the flow of merchant ships from island to island, how in turn she would need to go if she wanted to visit another portion of the South Blue.

Little did Caleb know that this information would save her life within the following year.

Over the course of six months, Elio was taught how to navigate by the position of the stars, how to read and create her own maps, how to read a compass, and what a log pose is. By the time late summer rolled around, Caleb was taking Elio out on the lake with the Conti family’s small ship. It was fit for two people; one to steer, and one to man the masts. Elio had found a new love for the water, one that thrilled Gian Carlo and worried Francesca.

Often, Penelope would sit on the shore and keep watch, for in the shadows, movement was stirring.

“I don’t understand,” Francesca sighed as she powdered her face, preparing for an evening out. “What is this fascination with the water?”

“It’s freeing!” Elio spoke around a mouthful of pins, having taken to doing her own hair. “I’m able to steer the ship where I wish for it to go, and it will go! It’s like a horse, but even more powerful and open. I want to go out to the ports one day, when I’m older, and take a ship out onto the ocean.”

“Why on earth would you want that?” Francesca whined; where had the daughter who loved to paint her nails and have tea parties gone?

Gian chuckled as he entered the powder room, pausing to press a kiss to the top of his wife’s head. “I think it’s a wonderful thing that you’ve taken an interest in. It can never hurt to know how to sail in this day and age.”

“See?” Elio stuck her tongue out before bursting into a fit of laughter as Gian copied her in the mirror.

Shaking her head, Francesca set down her powder puff and reached for her lipstick. “I think it’s a rather dangerous sport, is all.” She sniffed before opening her mouth, carefully gliding the red across her lips.

The shade reminded Elio of blood; bright and bold and eye-catching. She turned around and hopped down from the stool she stood on, hearing her mother gasp in a moment of fear. Her lips curved into a grin as she spun, her dress fanning around around her legs. She’d agreed to wear a dress tonight due to the event: the Opera. A traveling group of entertainers had come to their island, and the royal family of Conti had been invited as guests of honor to witness their performance.

“Is Caleb coming?” Elio questioned as she stepped one foot in front of the other, counting how many steps it would take to get from the door to the window on the other side of the room. Seven, eight, nine…

“Yes, he is, as is Penelope, and Scorpion, and Viper.” Poppa answered as he tied his tie, a fancy black silk with golden thread woven through it, catching the light like the scales of a dark reptile.

Seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty paces! “I’ve never been to an Opera before.”

“It will be long, and you must remain quiet.” Francesca rose to her feet, brushing her hand over her dressing gown. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Mother.” Elio rolled her eyes as she walked out of the powder room and into her parents bedroom. It was twice as big as her own, meaning it was quite massive. She could run from one end to the other and be out of breath! “Are you wearing the red gown tonight?”

“I am!”

“Is that why I’m wearing the gold?”

“Exactly, piccolo gnocco!” Mother walked to the closet, disappearing inside. “Go downstairs! We’ll be there shortly!”

“I’m gonna find a peach to eat!” Elio called back as she escaped, running through the hall towards the stairs. A grin curled her lips as she raced down two at a time, feeling as if she Cinderella running from the Prince. Except in her story, the Prince would never find her, and she would escape her evil step mother and evil step sisters to become a pirate and sail the oceans!

Penelope was in the kitchen when she came skidding in, very nearly running into the wall. “Careful!” Penelope chided, shaking her head. “Are you here to snack?”

“Do we have any peaches?”

“You’re in luck, I just finished peeling one.” Penelope grinned as she offered the bowl of peeled peach for Elio, who accepted with a squeal of delight. “You look pretty tonight.”

“Than’ oo.” Elio replied around a mouthful of peaches. She took a moment to swallow before continuing. “You aren’t wearing a dress?”

“Easier to hide my blades on me like this.”

“Oh! Oh, that’s smart!” She hadn’t considered that. Penelope wore a full suit, and even with the suit, she couldn’t see where she would have hidden any of her blades. “You’re so smart, Penny.”

“I’m aware.”

“There we are!” Gian Carlo smiled as he walked in, Francesca following behind. Both were fully dressed, Elio noted. They looked good; father in a suit of black and gold, mother in a gown of red with a necklace of gold and ruby, and herself in her golden dress with gold sparkles in her hair. She was their gold, their treasure, and she certainly looked the part. “Shall we?”

“To the Opera!” ───

“It was the first time I had been in a theater,” Crocodile murmured, watching as Jun’Ichi cut a peach carefully. It was well ripened, the juices spilling over his fingers.

“Did you enjoy it?” He asked as he cut a piece, holding it out for his boss.

Lips curved into a smile as he reached over, taking hold of the slice before bringing it to his mouth. “I did. The theater house was the pride of the city. It was three stories high, built of marble and gold, intricate details of filigree everywhere you looked. We had world class acts come to perform yearly. This Opera would be the final one to grace the theater house, however.”

“Oh,” Jun frowned at that, gaze lowering to the peach, cutting a piece for Daz, who had stretched out across the large bed. “That’s unfortunate.”

“Quite.”

“Do you recall what the opera was?” Daz asked, taking the piece of peach.

He had to think for a moment, mind reaching back, back, back into the recesses of his memory. “I can’t recall the name, but it was a tragedy from the North Blue. I remember my mother crying over it; a tale of two lovers torn apart by a warring family.”

“How tragic.”

“It was.” A yawn pulled free from him; he was tired, but still far too awake to even consider sleeping, just yet. The first night away from that living hell known as Impel Down. His fingers drummed on the arm of the chair he’d sunken into as memories of lavish gowns and sparkling champagne danced within his memory. “That’s the final good memory I have of that island.”

“Well, it has been nearly thirty five years since then.”

“It certainly has.” ───

Thirty Five Years Ago Isole del Carrozze, South Blue The House of Conti

Snow had blanketed the island; winter had come, and with a vengeance rarely seen. The castle was cold, even with the fires roaring within. Elio, age ten, curled up into a ball in a large arm chair, a book balanced upon their lap. At their feet, their cousin Olivia lay, asleep. She was their uncle’s daughter, a child of a Marine. She was four years older than them, but somehow shorter, with round cheeks and big green eyes. She took after her mother, not her father.

The Yule feast had ended an hour ago, but no one had gone to their rooms yet. The longest night of the year was meant to be spent together with the ones you loved, celebrating and chasing the shadows away. The people within the city had built bonfires to celebrate; normally, they would all be down there celebrating with them, but it was simply too cold this year. Ice had formed a layer over the snow that had fallen, making leaving dangerous.

The book had been a gift from Caleb; a book of maps. Maps of the South and West Blues, with detailed ley lines and island postings, as well as which direction the log pose would rest should you come to one. It was everything that they could have ever wanted. Father had gifted them new boots, leather and insulated. Good for riding horseback. Mother had gifted them a new quiver for their arrows, as well as a new pair of golden earrings.

Olivia stirred, sitting up and blinking in the light of the fire. “Ell,” she murmured, brows furrowing. “What time is it?”

“Just past nine, You’ve only been asleep for thirty minutes.” They answered, not looking up from their book. “Everyone else is still in the formal dining room.”

“Oh.” She shifted, tugging the fur blanket closer to herself as she rose to her feet. She walked to the window, staring out at the dark night. “It’s a new moon tonight. Look, you can’t even see the stars.”

“You can see the stars; we can’t see them from here because of the city’s lights.”

“Oh.” A pause as she worried her cheek. “I’m gonna go get some food. I’m hungry, still. Do you want anything?”

“No, thank you.” El shook their head, glancing up from the book at long last to watch as Olivia slipped out of the library and into the hall. The sound of laughter echoed distantly, the adults still awake and joking. They huffed softly and readjusted, gaze returning to the book of maps, trying to memorize as much as they could. Caleb would quiz them on this, no doubt. No rest for the weary- whatever that meant. They’d heard their mother say it more than once.

It felt applicable.

The fire crackled in the fireplace; the warmth was comforting, lulling. Their eyes felt heavy. Perhaps a small nap would be nice? Their head bobbed once, twice, three times before sleep pulled them under. It wasn’t the first time they had fallen asleep here, nor would it be the last, they reasoned. After all, it was warm, it was quiet, and their tummy was full of meat and bread. All was good, all was quiet.

They aren’t sure what woke them.

The fire had nearly burnt itself out, embers glowing dimly in the dark of the library. They shifted, their book nearly slipping off their lap before they caught it. No sound of laughter could be heard from the kitchen. How late was it? A glance towards the grandfather clock at the far end revealed it was well past midnight, nearly one in the morning. Quietly, they rose to their feet, shuffling forward while rubbing at their eyes. Had mother and father already retired for the evening? Where was everyone? Why did no one wake them?

The sound of snow crunching outside had their steps pausing. They aren’t sure why, not really, but for some reason, their hair stood on end. Something whispered for them to step back into the shadows, out of the light, and they do, quickly and quietly hiding in the corner of the room, out of sight of the large windows.

Men. Men in black suits. Were they more visitors? It was late, certainly they weren’t here on business! They went to step forward before something caught their attention-

Blood.

Blood on the white undershirts they wore. Blood? Oh, Gods, had something happened? They watched the men walk across the back porch, their footsteps crunching in the ice covered snow. Only when they were out of sight did they move, breath coming in soft, short pants, feet nearly silent upon the floor as they slipped out of the library and into the hall.

The power was out. It was cold. It was silent. It was dark, so very dark. They pressed their back to the wall as they slid forward slowly, quietly, a hand over their mouth and nose to muffle the sound of their breath. Something was wrong, something was terribly, horribly wrong. They reached the end of the hall where the large mahogany doors that led to the dining hall stood partially open. They slowly scooted forward, careful not to touch the doors for they would creak if any pressure was placed upon them. It was hard to see with the lack of light; they went to step forward, only for their toes to touch something… Wet.

Wet. And red.

Wine? Had wine been spilled? They followed the barely visible puddle forward. A hand.

Blood.

Blood was on the floor. They had stepped in blood. A soft gasp escaped, and they jerked back, nearly falling in their haste as they spun around. Someone was hurt, someone had been hurt! Where was mother? Father? Where were they? They ran through the halls, bare feet slapping against the floor, the sound ricocheting off the walls as they turned, only to run face first into the chest of-

Scorpion. Scorpion, who grabbed them tight and pulled them close and placed a hand over their mouth to muffle their scream. Scorpion, who pushed them into his own room and quietly closed the door. “Elio,” he breathed, kneeling down in front of them. He reached up, cupping their cheek, brushing their hair back from their face. “Elio, listen to me. Do you remember that hidden passage in the kitchen?”

“Yes, but- what’s going on? Someone’s hurt in the dining-”

“Your parents have been killed.”

“What?” Tears pricked at their eyes as they shook their head once, twice. “No- no, you’re lying, and this is an awful joke to play on Yule!”

He hissed, his hand coming back over their mouth. “Keep your voice down!” He glances towards the window, watches as shadows lurk past. “Listen to me, Elio. Viper is waiting in the stable. You need to run. We were looking for you, they are looking for you, do you understand?”

“No!” El whispers back, tears rolling over their cheeks. “No, I don’t!”

Scorpion sighs as he pulls them into a tight embrace, hand smoothing over their back. “Someday, you will. Someday, you will understand the World Government is never to be trusted. There is a bag that Viper has packed. It is in the kitchen, by the potatoes. Grab it. And take that hidden passage out to the stable. I need you to do that, okay?”

“But-”

“I will follow. There’s- there’s no one left. Everyone who was here has- they… They aren’t here anymore, El.”

Their mind raced as they scrabbled to understand what was happening. The World Government came and killed their parents? Why? What had they done? They were good people, they were kind and loving and good! “I don’t understand!” They whimpered, bottom lip trembling as they tried to hold back their tears.

“You will, one day. But I need you to go. I’ll distract them, but you need to go, now. Here, put on your boots,” he took hold of the leather booths he’d grabbed for them, having carried them with him for when he found them. Once on, he reached up to cup their cheeks, wiping away their tears. “You need to run now.”

“Okay.”

“On three. One…” He opened the door, ushered them into the hall. “Two,” he gave them one last hug, one last kiss on the head, “do not look at the bodies. Just run.” They nodded and began backing away before turning and sprinting. “Three!” He whispered, turning to run the other direction, making as much noise as possible to draw attention to himself.

His lips pressed tightly together as he ran. Survive, little crocodile. Survive for me. For your parents. For this entire island. Survive for your people, for we will not survive this night. This is the culling, our final rights have been read, and we will no longer live to see the light of day.

And run, they did. Throwing open the mahogany doors, nearly slipping in the pool of blood that came from a body that was missing a head. As they looked down at the ground rather than at the table, where the bodies of their uncle, their aunt, Penelope all sat, lifeless and bludgeoned. They pushed into the kitchen, the door swinging behind them. Potatoes, potatoes… Potatoes! Grabbing hold of the sack beside it, they turned, shimmying between the freezer and the wall, a space just big enough for a small man to get through but perfect for a child. The old servant’s passage that led from the stables to the kitchen below the ground.

Their steps echoed as they ran, breath puffing out in harsh pants. Everyone was dead. The World Government had killed them. They didn’t know why, but the World Government was now the enemy. They burst out of the hidden passage and nearly fell over Viper, who let out a surprised yell. “Viper!”

“There we are!” Viper pulled them in close, smoothing hands over their hair. “Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, but-”

“I know. I know, we need to go. I need to get you to the coast.”

“Why? Am I leaving?”

“Yes, you are. There’s a ship waiting for you.” Viper picked them up and placed them on the back of their horse- no, not their horse, their father’s stallion. A big, black stallion whose name was Hades, after the God of the Underworld. “You’re going to go, and you’re going to board, and you are going to never come back.”

“Never come back?!”

“Listen to me, Elio. You’re a smart kid. You’ll do fine out there. You’ll survive. But you can never return here. They’ve called a Buster Call on this island, and it won’t exist by the time the sun rises.”

A Buster Call?! Caleb had just taught them about that last week! “But- but what about you? And Scorpion? And all of the citizens- we have to warn them!”

“There’s no time!” Viper yelled, smacking the back of Hades’ rump, spurring him into a gallop. “Live! Live for all of us! Survive, Elio!” Viper cried out as Hades escaped the coral by leaping over the fence. Tears spilled over Viper’s cheeks as he watched them disappear into the forest. His ribs ached from where he’d been stabbed; his leg was on fire from the gunshot. He coughed once, twice, as blood filled his mouth.

It has been an honor serving the Great House of Conti. May its future flourish with you, Elio. May you survive and do great things. It’s what your father would have wanted.

“Slow down!” El yelled at Hades, who did not listen. The horse plowed through the woods until they came onto the trail that led to the public docs, not the private ones. He whinnied, tossing his head as he ran. “You stupid horse, we need to go back!” They cried, tears spilling over their cheeks. But the horse never stopped, not until they were trotting down the wooden docks, as if it knew.

And Elio believes that he did know. He knew where to take them, for there was a small vessel waiting. “There you are,” an old woman sighed as she stepped onto the deck, arms crossed over her chest. “Yer father’s told me everything. Let’s go, before it’s too late.”

“Who are you?”

“My name doesn’t matter. Come on, your highness.” She took their bag as they clambered down from Hades, who snorted and butted his head against their cheek.

“I love you.” El whispered through their tears, reaching up to cup his snout, brushing their fingers against his soft coat. “I love you all. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry I have to leave you. I’m so sorry.”

“Highness,” the woman urged softly; her own heart ached for this child, for this island. “We have to leave.”

“I know.” They pressed a kiss to Hades’ nose before pulling back. “You were a good horse.” With that, they turned and stepped down into the boat. It wasn’t anything impressive, not by a long shot. Their chest heaved with sobs as they collapsed onto the deck, as the boat began to leave port quietly. As the old woman draped a blanket over their shoulders.

As the first sounds of canonfire began, echoing through the night, through the snowfall. The woman sat with them, cradling them gently in her arms as the screams of fear, of desperation, began to join the chorus of a slaughter that would never be known to the history books. ───

Tears spilled over scarred cheeks as silence settled over the room. Jun’Ichi sat across from him, eyes wide, a hand over his mouth as realization settled in. “Everything in the history books about the Isole del Carrozze is a lie,” Crocodile sighed, reaching up to wipe idly at his damp cheeks. “There was no civil war. There was no pirate attack. There was no slaughter of Marines. They killed my parents, they killed the servants, they killed the civilians. I don’t know if anyone had been able to escape; I’ve never met anyone from there in the years since.”

“I’m… So sorry,” Jun’Ichi whispered, looking over as Daz held out tissues for both men. “I had no idea.”

“Not many do know.”

“Who was the woman?”

“An old crone whose name I never learned. She was old, she was kind, and she got me to another island, where I would spend the next six years working. I worked in a shop as an accountant; I was good with math, I was literate, and I had a good memory. I saved over five thousand berries by the time I left there.” His lips twitched into a humorless smile. “That’s when Dragon found me.”

“Dragon?! Garp’s son, Monkey D. Dragon?”

“The one and only.”

#one piece #sir crocodile #daz bones #sir crocodile fanfiction #trans crocodile #the fall of the house of c #oc tag: fujihara jun'ichi #this is my pride & joy currently im ngl #im so proud of this piece #please read it oh my god

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uselessalexis165 · 1 year

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Doing some TTTE headcanons for my humanized designs

I did Sparks and her crew first to get them out of the way 🚂

•Sparks Robinson•

Race: Filipina-American

Sexuality: Lesbian

Pronouns: She/her

Age: 20yrs old

Likes: Sweets, drawing, singing/music, quiet time to recharge, Tristin and Ricky.

Dislikes: Vegetables, people who are rude to her or her friends, and people who disturb her quiet time.

Personality: At first appearance, she’s quiet and usually keeps to herself. But there are times when she will speak her mind to those who belittle her, or those she cares for. She can’t put up a fight physically, but she will use her words to hit a person’s nerves.

Sparks isn’t actually her birth name.

It was a nickname given to her by her colleges back on her old railway in the U.S.

The nickname was given to her because the others would say when she talks, she would always have a “spark” in her look.

The nickname was also used in a derogatory sense, due to how she would “talk back” to others.

Robinson also isn’t her actual last name. She just gave herself a last name to try and complete her name.

•Tristin Dimalanta•

Race: Filipino

Sexuality: Gay

Pronouns: They/them

Age: 22yrs old

Likes: Photography, reading, pastries, Ricky and Sparks.

Dislikes: Loud noises, cramped/crowed spaces, and people who are rude to them or their friends.

Personality: They’re the most calm and collected of the trio. They’re considered the strongest of the trio, not tiring easily. They try not to start confrontation and if they somehow get dragged into it, they will speak as calmly and politely as possible. They usually let Ricky or Sparks handle the more dramatic confrontations, standing close to keep their loved ones protected.

•Ricky Pearson•

Race: Half black, half white (American)

Sexuality: Gay

Pronouns: He/him

Age: 22yrs old

Likes: Music, guitar playing, dyeing/styling his hair, Tristin and Sparks.

Dislikes: Cold weather, waiting for long periods of time, not knowing want to do, and people who rude to him and his friends.

Personality: He’s considered the more energetic of the trio. He isn’t afraid to comment or put his input on something. If the trio have to wait for something, he will be the one to say: “How long is this gonna take?”, “We’ve been waiting forever!”, How much longer do we have to wait?”, etc. He’s only patient with Tristin and Sparks. If the situation doesn’t involve them, then he won’t be as patient.

•Tristin and Ricky wear an earring and that makes up a pair. Tristin has the earring on their left ear and Ricky has it on his right ear.

•The two of them have been dating for four years now. They’ve known each other longer before they’ve met Sparks.

•They all met on their old railway in the U.S.

•When Sparks was told she was going to work again by moving to Sodor, Tristin and Ricky were able to come with her.

#i might do more headcanon stuff for the ocs #my art #traditional art #thomas the tank engine #thomas and friends #trainsona #sparks the little shunting engine #tristin the driver #ricky the fireman #ttte humanized

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deejadabbles · 11 months

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So, @blueink-bluesoul had me thinking about my clone wars OCs for the first time in years, I now have the mighty urge to make that everyone else's problem by ranting about them. I love OCs so feel free to get revenge by ranting about your own OCs to me!

Also if...if anyone out there likes these characters and wants to request headcanons on them as if they're canon characters...I would not mind that at all....

Please excuse my attempts at art, I've very out of practice with drawing 😞 Here's the picrews I used for the lightsaber and clone armor if you're interested

Mayreen Torrez

Hashtag your mom friend. She's between Anakin and Obi-wan in age. Auburn hair that she keeps long for the first half of the war, but, while saving her men from an explosion, she gets badly burned across her arms and face, also charring the ends of her hair. After that she keeps it short and has the faint scars of a burn mark on the left side of her face. (my current pfp is a picrew I made of her)

As stated above she's the doting mom friend. Holds to the belief that friendships and other relationships does not automatically = unhealthy attachment. So she's not afraid to make deep connections with others, especially other Jedi and her troops, she believes that balancing those relationships with healthy mindsets is the true test of a jedi.

One of those Jedi who's extremely vocal of her criticisms of the republic, considering the politicians are using the Jedi and clones as unwilling pawns in their war. There were a....few incidents during the war where she "bent" direct orders when she thought they might result in too high casualty rates or prioritized other things over civilian lives.

She's in love with her Commander, but she's determined to take those feelings to her grave- not because she thinks love is wrong, but because the idea of unintentionally abusing her rank over him makes her sick to her stomach.

Commander Zedge

Might as well be called Commander Dad. Keeps the sides of his hair shaved and long on top, secures it back with a ponytail. Has two long scars along the corner of his mouth and one over his eyebrow. There's a small tattoo over his left temple, the symbol is an ancient ward to protect those under your command.

Zedge cares about one thing: protecting innocent people, including his brothers. He only sees the war as a way to do that, especially once he sees how the separatist droids treat those on their occupied worlds. He is not one to spare criticism for the republic either, especially when Mayreen is the same way. He's aware that him and his brothers had no choice in this fight, even if most of them believe in the cause, and will help his General bend rules if it means protecting his brothers.

Speaking of, he was very skeptical of the Jedi leading the clones, and was convinced that they wouldn't care about clone casualties. Thankfully, just a few days with his new general made his worries fade pretty quickly. Especially when Mayreen showed respect for his tactical knowledge and combat skills. He firmly believes they're the best Jedi general/clone commander duo in the GAR given their perfectly aligned values. His opinion of the Jedi in general does a harsh 180 quick, and comes to respect the way they value life, and realizes that they also had no choice in this war.

Eventually this man comes to the mind-crashing realization that he's in love with his General. Has no idea the feelings are mutual and thinks he's the worst comrade ever for "disrespecting" her with his feelings. Every one in the battalion knows they're in love and thinks they're idiots.

Dott (the medic)

Precious, precious boy. Has a pretty standard haircut but keeps the front a little longer so he can spike them up. Has a tattoo of the medical symbol on his neck and a prominent smattering of shrapnel scars down his right arm, which he got while pulling Fixit away from a grenade that went off before they were a safe distance.

Total nerd, thinks laughter is good medicine and is ALWAYS telling bad dad jokes, no matter how many times they tell him to stop (Mayreen's the only one who laughs at them). "If you don't wanna hear my jokes Stop getting sent to my med bay!"

Is always researching stuff on the holonet, but becomes completely invested in research involving mental health. Makes it his personal mission to become the battalion's therapist as well as medic. Always sending tips on improving ones mental health to everyone's datapads, checking in for signs of PTSD after every rough mission, big advocate for talking out feelings rather than stamping them out. Meditates with Mayreen and Fixit and encourages everyone to join in. Long story short if you need to talk about anything please go to him <3

He's also a big animal lover and takes holopics of the wildlife on every planet they visit. Has been known nurse an injured animal back to health when stationed on a planet for awhile. Would probably sneak a bogling or tooka back to the ship if he thought he could get away with it.

Bravo (the pilot)

Chaotic little brother. One of those clones with the genetic anomaly of blonde hair, which he is very proud of. Constantly says his sweeping blonde curls are his best feature and likes being annoying about it. Has his battalion number tattooed on one forearm and a silhouette of his star fighter on the other.

Incredibly skilled pilot, he often offers air support for the ground squad. Known for his high risk=high reward maneuvers but is constantly in the med bay as a result. Jokes that him and Dott are besties now because of how much time they spend together <3

Loves being the center of attention and will get it even if it means being obnoxious. This goes double when they're on shore leaving and he always wants someone to have fun with. He's not really into commitment tho, at first he didn't realize that was something he should be upfront about when picking up dates, so after a few tearful Holo calls from previous lovers he's much more transparent about his wants now.

He's also the only OC who I know dies during the war. He sacrifices himself to save a refugee transport. He wasn't ordered to, he just knew the only way to save the civilians was to crash his fighter into the Separatist warship and he didn't even have to give it another thought. If his squad has taught him anything its that innocent lives always come first. Okay I'm gonna cry now

Fixit (the mechanic)

Shy baby. Keeps his hair just a little long and tied back at the nape of his neck. Has a scar across the back of his left hand and both hands are always scraped up and covered in grease.

Fixit got his name because of his genius skills in mechanics. Loves droids and is always keeping the ones on the ship shinny and up to date, which often results in said droids following him like baby ducks. The astromech Bravo flies with is constantly around Fixit cos of all the times Bravo's stunts have set him on fire.

Easily flustered, which makes him an easy target for brotherly teasing, this is where all the "droids are better than people" jokes come from. He takes an active interest in the way the Jedi calm their minds through meditation and asks Mayreen to teach him, they have regular sessions between missions. He also really appreciates all the confidence building advice that Dott and Mayreen give him.

Has been known to improve standard issue equipment, usually focusing on devices that can better protect him and his brothers. He's also constantly improving his oldest friend, Whisper's, rifle since he's the only person Whisper trusts with his gun.

Whisper (the sharpshooter)

It's always the quiet ones. He keeps his hair long and dyes the ends of it whenever he can, doesn't matter what color he just wants them dyed. Has lines tattooed around his eyes and mouth, then later on gets some blackout stripe tattoos down both of his arms. He also purposefully scared up his helmet to match his tattoos.

Got his name because he doesn't talk much and when he does, he's very soft spoken (he could make bank if he did ASMR recordings of his voice lmao). He's also the best shot in the battalion and is the best man to cover you on the battle field.

Him and Fixit were actually squad-mates back on Kamino and have been with each other since the beginning. They're best friends and you can usually find Whisper cleaning his rifle while Fixit rambles on beside him, tuning up the droids.

Whisper isn't really "shy" per se, he just prefers to sit by and watch, listen. This gives him an excellent insight into body language and can clock someone's intentions very quickly. Also don't fist fight him, he can predict your moves before you even know what you're doing based on your body position.

He may look intimidating but he's actually very sweet and gentle, just...don't insult one of his brothers or disrespect his General. He doesn't care what the punishment is, he will teach someone respect if they run their mouth in front of him.

I'm sorry these are all so long I just!!! I love my squad so much! They're a tight knit family unit and would literally do anything for each other 😭

#clone wars ocs #clone ocs #jedi ocs #star wars ocs #deeja doodles #oc: mayreen #oc: zedge #oc: dott #oc: bravo #oc: fix it #oc: whisper #my ocs

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bonesandthebees · 1 year

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While I’m here, have some incoherent glass thoughts, cuz I just cannot do a proper analysis. So I’m just going to point out things I noticed.

First some chapter 14 things I’m not sure I pointed out. Tommy is fine with Wilbur touching him, but he flinches when Phil or Techno does it. That’s gotta sting for them. Also, Wilbur got goosebumps when walking past Kristin’s statue. Though make that always happens. I do feel like that’s a sign that she’s watching him.

Then chapter 15. So in my head, the cafeteria was a lot bigger than it probably is. Either that or they were a lot closer to the wall. For context in my head Niki and Jack were in the middle of the room. In reality, they were apparently very close to a wall. Rip Wilbur. Thought it was possible it was the momentum of the push. Either way, very unfortunate, but probably the best outcome for Tommy and Jack’s relationship since Tommy didn’t stab anyone. So Wilbur accomplished his mission at the cost of a head wound and blood loss.

It’s also important to point out that neither Jack nor Niki seem to have beef with Wilbur. In chapter 14 we saw that Niki and Wilbur are similar in their devotion to their friendship. So Niki and Jack do seem to understand that Wil is just siding with Tommy because it’s Tommy. Though Niki seems to be dead said on ignoring Wilbur’s existence until he gets hurt. Then she wants to make sure he’s alright. So I’ll take my rainduo crumbs when I get them.

I do think this will make sure that next time Wilbur steps in between Tommy and Jack, no one pushes him. Which doesn’t mean that no one else will try to get him away for his own safety. It is interesting how we do continue to get characters hurting each other without actually meaning any harm. Tommy kidnaps Wilbur but doesn’t actually want to hurt him. Wilbur tries to kill Tommy because he had a vision even though he doesn’t actually want him dead. Tommy pushes Jack of a roof with the intend to kill him because in his mind that’s better then death by the cops. Jack accidentally get Wilbur a head wound by pushing him away to get to Tommy.

A lot of actions and varying different consequences. As in. Tommy pushing Jack is kind of the only action to get proper consequences. Like Wilbur being kidnapped still has consequences, a lot of them, you could argue that everything that happens after is a consequence of the kidnapping. Wilbur trying to kill Tommy gets Tommy better lungs (at least Sam is working on it). Then Tommy pushing Jack sort of directly resulted in Jack pushing Wilbur, which then results in the hair washing scene and wilbur letting Tommy see his face and telling him he’s 22.

Speaking of which. HE’S 22?!? I knew you afed him down, but for some reason I thought he’d just been the Pythia for longer. But nope. He’s just 22. No longer 24. That’s only 4 years older than Tommy. And so much younger than everyone else thinks him to be. And Wilbur is right, for him and Tommy a 4 year age difference is a lot, but for someone like Phil who probably in his thirties, both of them are very young. I do also wonder how Phil is going to react to Wilbur’s injury.

-🌲

Tommy doesn't normally flinch when Phil or Techno touch him, but he's just very jumpy after everything and since Wilbur immediately showed him nothing but worry and care he's the one person he knows he can trust right now :(

yeah the cafeteria has this very specific layout in my head that's really hard to put into words?? but there's kind of two halves to the room, with tubbo and ranboo and aimsey usually sitting near the left wall when you walk in, and jack and niki sitting near the right wall, with an open path in the middle for people to walk down to get their food. I could draw out a blueprint at some point if it would help lol but yeah jack and niki were near the wall

unfortunately yes the best outcome to that entire situation was wilbur getting knocked in the head instead of either jack or tommy getting injured bc that would've just made things way worse.

exactly! niki and jack don't have beef with wilbur. jack didn't want to hurt wilbur and was horrified by what happened. niki was scared for wilbur's safety and wanted to make sure he was okay. they're on opposing sides, but wilbur himself did nothing to wrong them. niki understands why he's standing by tommy, but unfortunately that puts them at odds.

actions have consequences :) even if you don't mean harm, that doesn't negate the hurt you did to someone

well, I wanna point something out. sure, the only proper consequences, as in a punishment, happened to tommy after he pushed jack. but I'd argue the entire development of crimeboys relationship is a consequence. sure, it doesn't seem like a negative thing, and in a lot of ways it's helping wilbur. but at the same time, they are already extremely attached to one another and it's only growing stronger. codependence isn't healthy. I think it's an interesting dynamic to explore, but it's not the healthy direction for either wilbur or tommy to take. so many actions have had consequences of pushing their relationship further in this direction. so yeah, the only thing that got a proper punishment was tommy pushing jack. but there are consequences to what's been happening. just less obvious ones.

lmao yup he's only 22. tbh I was debating heavily between 22 and 23 but I ultimately decided to make him 22 more so for tommy's perspective than anything to do with wilbur because there isn't a huge difference between being 22 and 23. the difference lies in how tommy perceives wilbur. to an 18 year old, a single year DOES make a difference. they're only 4 years apart. to tommy, that puts him on a much closer level with wilbur than if he was, say, 24.

meanwhile for phil who is in his late thirties/early forties (haven't decided specifically but leaning towards forties), and for techno who is in his early to mid thirties, 22 and 18 are definitely young.

#ask #spruce anon #through a glass divine

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quibbs126 · 1 year

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I’ve been drawing more of my North and South Dragons these past couple days

I tell you, for some reason it’s been really hard for me to make a full sketch page like I used to. I think it’s because my brain now thinks it needs every sketch to be connected with one another in terms of characters and things I’m going for, when before that wasn’t really the case. But whatever, I’ll figure that out

So first up I had some normal Cookie disguises for Choco and Milk Creme, in which they go by their actual names, just omitting the Dragon bit, mostly because most Cookies don’t actually know their real names and it’s just easier. I based Choco off the physicians and Milk the warriors just because I wanted to base them off other NPCs in the kingdom, and doing different roles seemed more interesting. Another design idea was making them look more like some of the villagers we see, like Milk Creme looking like one of the Milk Tribe, but I just went with this instead. Maybe those are other disguises they use when they feel like it

With their colors, I wanted to make them look more like Dark Cacao, giving them purplish eyes (though they’re more of a pink), and I gave them somewhat similar dough colors, with Choco Creme’s being darker and Milk Creme’s being lighter. They’re also supposed to have long hair (though probably not as long as his), they just keep it tied up

So since I based them on Cookies in the Citadel, I decided that these guys actually show up in the Citadel. Every couple decades, they disguise themselves as members of the Citadel, Choco Creme a physician and Milk Creme a soldier, and spend a few days there, just to see how things are going with Dark Cacao and his kingdom. The other people of the Citadel know they’re odd, as they mysteriously show up one day and mysteriously leave shortly after, and no one has seen them outside of those days, not to mention there are those who have been there long enough to see them more than once and know they haven’t aged since last time, but at this point they’ve been showing up for longer than anyone but Dark Cacao knows, and he seems to be fine with them, so they’re just something people accept. Many suspect that they’re the Twin Dragons, but no one knows for sure. During one of these, they’ve met Dark Choco Cookie (though they likely first met him as a freshly baked Cookie), when he was a child. They probably told him who they are, but he’s meant to keep it a secret, which he does. Not sure if they know what happened to him though

Anyways, then I wanted to draw the two and Dark Cacao as smalls, with younger versions of their designs. To be honest, not sure I’m satisfied with these designs; I know I had a lot of trouble with the hair and I ended up just giving up, and it was a similar story with their outfits. I tried to base them off of Dark Cacao’s new flashback outfit, because I’m imagining that he would have gotten it from them. I also wanted to give them identical outfits, since they were a lot more attached to each other when younger. Over time they grew to individualize themselves more rather than just being a pair, but this was before then. For Dark Cacao I redesigned that young look I gave him before, making it have darker colors. I think I like this one better, I feel like it looks more like him? Also I’m aware that the fabric is facing the wrong way on his outfit, that was supposed to be intentional

To be honest, now that I’ve finished Episode 14, I feel like changing my personal headcanon for Dark Cacao’s backstory, but I was already making this before doing that, so I’ll just do that later. But some things I plan on keeping is that as a young child he ended up lost and alone in the mountains, the dragons find him and take him in, he grows up essentially a loner of the wilds, who goes around helping other Cookies, he meets the Ancient Cookies and we know the rest from there. Which I now realize is essentially the backstory I already gave him, but in my head there are more differences, like the dragons’ age when they meet him and stuff like that. And I might just throw it all out and start fresh. I dunno I’ll work on it

And the last one I did mostly just to fill up space, but it’s supposed to be one of them finding him and bringing him back with them. I like to imagine they’re big enough to hold him in one hand. Also it’s supposed to be like that ferret thing, but maybe I’ll draw that more clearly later. But they do pick him up in one hand and throw him around like a rag doll.

Also the dialogue is in parentheses because they’re supposed to be talking in the Dragon language, but I don’t know what that would look like, so just assume it’s in another language but being translated

Anyways yeah, dragons

#I think maybe the difficult thing with their hair is the fact that I made most of their heads bare #I dunno not sure if it looks right #also I don’t know where the two are taking Dark Cacao in the second drawing #but it’s either home something they want to show him #or they just like to walk around together in a little chain #with him in the middle #actually I think that was what I was originally going for #also I didn’t draw their markings on their heads bc I just couldn’t get it to look right with their eyes #but assume it’s face paint and they just start putting it on later #I think that was it #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #cookie run oc #black dragon of the north #white dragon of the south #choco creme dragon cookie #milk creme dragon cookie #dark cacao cookie #my ocs #my art

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mccall-muffin · 2 years

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Better late than never - Part 1 // Joe Liebgott x Reader

Summary: You were born and raised in Aldbourne when the American paratroopers came to your village. Naturally your friends are incredibly excited, but you can't share this excitement because you already have a soldier in your life - but somehow not everything is as it seems and eventually you realise that you are not so averse to a handsome young paratrooper.

Warnings: Language, Fluffy Fluff, Cheating, War wounds, light violence

A/N: Just a little story out of boredom. Gosh, Joe is a little softie in this one. Hope you enjoy it anyway! - There will be a part 2, because it got longer than expected...

Aldbourne, England - September 25, 1943

"Now that would be something, wouldn't it? A handsome soldier to take you out and dance with you," your friend Sally gushes and you roll your eyes. "Why would I want that?" you ask back and Sally hooks up with you. "Come on, don't tell me you're still lusting after that Edward guy?" "What do you mean lusting after? He's a gentleman and he'll be back soon," you say, convinced of your own words.

When you and Sally enter the pub it is already full of soldiers. Especially American soldiers, which makes Sally all the more excited. You don't care. You have Edward. At one of the tables you quickly find your friends Dot and Maggy. You greet each other with a peck on the cheek and then sit down with them. "It's pretty crowded in here, isn't it?" asks Maggy, wiggling her eyebrows. She seems to feel the same as Sally. She is pleased to see her local pub overflowing with strangers.

"What do you want to drink Sally? I'll get us something," you say then slowly stand up. "Cider please," she says and you nod. You walk over to the bar and stand, where you wait for Harry, the bartender, to take your order.

"Hello," you hear a voice beside you and you look up. A young soldier with dark brown eyes and fluffy brown hair is standing next to you leaning against the bar. For whatever reason, his eyes draw you right in. "Hi," you return, forcing yourself to face forward again. "Can I buy you a drink?" he asks further, and you look back at him briefly. He's quite handsome, you have to give him that, but there's also Edward. "No, thank you," you say kindly, and then Harry comes up to you.

"Y/N, love. I haven't seen you for ages. How's the family?" he asks and I try to ignore the soldier next to me as best I can. "Oh quite well, thank you Harry," you reply. "What can I get you?" "Will you get me and Sally a cider please?" "Certainly, love." "It's on me," the soldier next to me interferes, holding out the money to Harry. "There's really no need," I say immediately, but he just winks at me. "Just accept it, Miss," he says gallantly and Harry searches your gaze for a moment. You take a deep breath and press your lips together. "Thank you," you say therefore, and Harry accepts his money before handing you the two ciders.

You go back to your seat and your friends are already whispering. You put the two ciders down and sit down as Maggy turns directly to you. "Who was that cute soldier at the bar?" she asks. Your girlfriends are really unbelievable sometimes. They only have boys on their minds and since the war started, it's mostly soldiers. "How should I know?" you ask, looking at her confused. "You were talking to him, weren't you," Dot continues to tease. "Yes, because he wanted to buy me a drink, but I declined." Maggy, Dot and Sally roll their eyes. Then Dot turns to Sally. "Really now? Still that stuck-up Eddie?" Sally nods and now you roll your eyes. "His name is Edward Dot, not Eddie. And he's not stuck-up either." "That's what you say."

"He's totally boring," Maggy now interjects again. "I really don't see how you can keep going out with him." "I like him, okay?" "If I were you, I'd cut me a slice of that cream puff that's still checking you out, Y/N." You look up and quickly realise that the soldier from earlier keeps looking at you. Then you roll your eyes and turn back to your friends. "Go ahead. Have fun with it," you say, and Maggy actually stands up. "Don't mind if I do." She walks over to the soldier and his friends and starts talking to them.

You take another sip of your cider and look at Dot and Sally. "It's your own fault, Y/N. You had your chance." "And who said I wanted one? Why can't you guys just accept that I'm happy with Edward?" Sally and Dot shoot each other a look. Sally reaches out and puts her hand on mine. "Because we all think you deserve better than this wimp." "Oh yeah? And the first thing you guys think of is a bloody yank?"

Before they can say anything back, Maggy comes back to the table and to your annoyance, with the American soldiers in tow. They each take a chair and sit down between you. You look urgently at Maggy, but she just shrugs her shoulders. "Hello ladies," says one of the soldiers with a big grin. He is very handsome, but you can already tell he is a womaniser. "I'm Floyd Talbert. Pleased to meet you," he introduces himself and shakes our hands. "And this here is Skinny Sisk, Mo Alley and Joe Liebgott," he introduces the others as well. Your eyes go straight to this Joe Liebgott who bought you the drinks earlier. He smiles mischievously at you and you twitch your eyes briefly. There's something bold in his gaze.

"This here is Sally Porter, Dot Maguire and Y/N Y/L/N," Maggy introduces you all and you give a quick wave of one hand.

It isn't long before each of your friends is engaged in conversation with one of the soldiers. Except you and Joe sit rather silently. "So..." he begins. "You're from around here?" he then asks, making small talk I guess. "Mhm," you nod in reply. "Born and raised." You look at him very briefly, but quickly avert your eyes again. Joe keeps trying to strike up a conversation with you, but to no avail.

When your cider is empty, you make an effort to get up. "I'm going home," you announce, and your friends look at you disappointedly. "Stay a bit longer Y/N," Dot pleads, but you shake your head. "No, I'm really tired. But enjoy your evening, will you?" you say, and are about to leave when Joe also gets up. "I could walk you home. With a village full of soldiers and in the dark, a lady shouldn't be out alone," he says quickly and you pause. "No, that's really not necessary," you say, but Maggy interrupts you immediately. "That would really be extremely kind of you Joe." You look angrily at Maggy before admitting defeat. "All right, then. Come on then," you say annoyed and leave the pub.

For a while the two of you walk silently side by side. The streets are still pretty crowded and probably it really wouldn't have been the best idea to go home alone, but you didn't want to sit uncomfortably at the table any longer while your friends were flirting.

Suddenly Joe clears his throat. "Could it be that you don't like me?" he then asks directly and you look at him in surprise. "What makes you think that?" "Well, you barely speak to me, let alone look at me properly. Your friends don't seem to mind our presence, but you..." You sigh and look at him from the side. "It's not you. It's just... I'm seeing someone at the moment, and I don't think he'd be too pleased if he knew I was seeing Yank soldiers." Joe thinks for a moment. "Then why isn't he here?" "Well, as I'm sure you can guess, he's on duty. He was stationed here when I met him, but he is currently in London." Joe says nothing more to this and the two of you walk the rest of the way silently side by side.

When you arrive at your front door, you stop short. "This is where I live. Thank you for walking me. That's really nice of you," you say honestly and smile at Joe. "Oh, don't mention it. Someone with decency doesn't let a lady walk home alone." You smirk. "Well then... See you around," you say, unlocking the door. Joe nods and then walks away.

Since Joe brought you home, your relationship has improved a lot. You've met a few more times in the pub, as it seems things are more serious between Mo and Dot. Somehow it has relieved you that he knows about Edward and you no longer feel like he is trying to ensnare you. You've found that you actually really like him. As a friend, of course.

Aldbourne, England - October 27, 1943

Four weeks later:

Edward has been back in Aldbourne for two days and you couldn't be happier. You've told him about the Yanks and also about Dot going out with one. Edward doesn't seem to pay much attention to that, though. Sure he brought you flowers and took you out when he arrived, but that night you're supposed to be helping your grandmother peel potatoes and instead of offering to help too, he's decided to go to the pub with some friends.

"What's troubling you love?" your grandmother asks you as you blearily peel the potatoes. "Oh nothing, Grandma," you return, but the old lady gives you a penetrating look. "Y/N Y/L/N, don't you dare lie to me, you understand?" You stop and put the peeler down for a moment. "All right. All my friends are at the pub and Edward's finally back and he's at the pub too and actually I wanted to be there too, but of course I want to help you too and..." "Stop, stop," your grandmother interrupts you. " Love, do you really think I don't know what it's like to be young?" You look at her for a moment. "Go on, get out of here," she then says and you look at her with wide eyes. "Excuse me?" "I said get out Y/N. I can still manage here on my own." Full of joy, you jump up and give her a big hug. "Thank you grandmother!" "Y/N, it's okay."

When you arrive at the pub half an hour later, you see Maggy standing outside with Tab. "Y/N?" she asks, surprised. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming tonight." "Change of plans," you return with a grin. "Hey Tab," you greet the yank before pushing open the door. "Y/N wait!" you hear Maggy call after you, but you are already inside. And what you see there leaves you speechless. Maggy rushes in behind you, but she immediately runs into you.

You immediately spot Edward at a table next to the bar. But he is not alone. A young woman sits on his lap and sticks her tongue down his throat. You feel tears stinging your eyes. "Y/N!", Maggy says again, but all you see is the bastard. At the bar, Skinny, Joe, Dot, Sally and Mo have now spotted you. Only Skinny, Joe and Mo don't know who Edward is. So they only see you, fuming, heading for a British soldier.

You tap Edward on the shoulder and then cross your arms. Disturbed, he looks up, but when he recognises you, he immediately jumps up. "Y/N?! What are you doing here ? I thought...", he immediately begins to stammer. With trembling lips you give him a resounding slap, which gets you all the attention of the pub, but you don't really care. "Are you serious? Are you fucking serious?! I'm not here one day and what do you do? Here you are snogging the first best thing that comes your way!" "Y/N I'm so sorry. I just... I don't know what came over me," Edward tries to talk his way out of it, but you're not really listening to him. "You know what? I don't care. Do what you want Edward!" With these words you storm out of the pub.

As soon as you get some fresh air, you can't hold back the tears. Quickly you want to go home, but then someone holds you back by the arm. "Y/N, wait a minute. Hey!" says the person. You have your hands in front of your face and you can hardly see anything because of the tears as you continue to cry leaning against a hard chest. "Hey, come on. It's going to be okay, all right? He's an idiot." Two strong arms wrap around you and Joe squeezes you a little closer. You can breathe in his scent and somehow it seems to calm you.

Joe comforts you for a while and when you have calmed down a little, you gently squeeze away from him. "Come," he says quietly, and leads you to a park bench. As you sit down, he holds out a handkerchief and you accept it gratefully. "Thank you Joe. That's really... Sweet of you." "Stop thanking me all the time. I don't mind doing that." "I... I don't know how I could have missed that..." "How could you? He's a dick. I'm sorry he did that to you, Y/N. You didn't deserve that." "I just think about it all the time.... If he's already doing it here, where I live and my friends are, what has he done in places I haven't been?"

"I wouldn't even think too much about it Y/N. He's an idiot." Joe brushes a strand of hair from your tear-stained face. "How can he not be, I mean.... If he lets a woman like you go, then he must be an idiot." For a moment you both look at each other and Joe smiles encouragingly at you. You wipe the tears from your cheeks and then avert your eyes before shuddering. Joe notices and takes off his jacket to put it around your shoulders. "Thank you," you breathe, and he just shakes his head in amusement.

The night you caught Edward with the other woman, Joe was still walking you home. Of course you continued to cry and it hurt. Your friends didn't get off scot-free either, as they knew but didn't say anything. "If we had told you, you wouldn't have believed us anyway!", Sally justified herself, and maybe she's even right, but nonetheless it would have been her obligation to tell you.

Aldbourne, England - January 25, 1944

3 months later

You still spend a lot of time with Joe. You and he have become real friends and you feel comfortable with him. He was the one who made you laugh in the early days after Edward and got you out of the house before anyone else.

Even now you are standing with him at the bar and are about to order a drink when a familiar voice addresses you. It's Edward. You haven't seen him since he cheated on you and you also think you've made it clear enough that you don't want to see him any more.

"Y/N?" he asks and you turn to him. You try to look at him as dismissively as possible, even though that is so not in your nature. "Hey, Buddy. Step back!", Joe immediately interferes, pushing Edward backwards. "Stay out of this, Yank. This has nothing to do with you!", Edward sneers at Joe. "Y/N please, can I talk to you for a minute?" You look briefly at Joe and then nod, barely noticeably, causing Joe to take a step back. "I don't know what else you would have to say to me, but please..."

"I want you back Y/N. I'm so incredibly sorry for what happened and it will never happen again, I promise you! But I love you and without you, I'm just lost!" he says desperately and you listen to all his apologies and promises until he finishes. "Do you forgive me?" he then asks.

You think about it for a moment. "Fine," you say indifferently, and Edward's face is already hinting at a glow. "You know Edward. I couldn't care less about you, which is why you're not even worth holding a grudge against." Edward looks like you punched him in the face. Behind you, Joe grins smugly to himself. "You don't mean that..." "Yes Edward I do. I'm over you. I've got someone new," you then say, though it's not true. "You do?" says Edward, sounding like he doesn't believe you. "Yeah." "And who?"

You look to Joe. "Him." Edward looks back and forth between you and Joe. "A bloody yank? You serious?" "Yeah, I'm serious. And Joe is a thousand times more man than you ever were." "I don't believe you Y/N. You just say that now so I'll leave you alone." Again you look to Joe. "You want proof?" Without thinking much further, you stand on your tiptoes and kiss Joe. You put your hands on the back of his neck and pull him down to you.

Joe doesn't seem to mind any of this, because he kisses you back and pulls you even closer to him by the waist. His dominant side comes out immediately and you are slightly surprised when you feel his tongue in your mouth. However, you join in and kiss him passionately before you separate after what feels like an eternity.

For a moment you look into each other's eyes. Your heart beats faster, your breath has quickened and a swarm of butterflies has awakened in your stomach. You bite your lip for a moment, but you don't take your eyes off Joe. Next to you, you hear Edward swear and leave the pub in a huff.

Embarrassed, you turn away from Joe and clear your throat. "Uh, I'm sorry... I uh... don't know what...", you stammer, but Joe takes your face in his hands and kisses you again. A little surprised at first, you let him and then put your arms around his neck to pull him closer. "Finally!" someone calls behind you and you break away from each other. Behind you are your friends, cheering you on. "About time," Sally grins, winking at you.

Joe takes you by the hand. "Come on," he whispers in your ear and leads you outside. Hand in hand you walk through Aldbourne. Again and again you try to pluck up the courage to say something, but you cannot. "You know, I've been wanting to do this for a long time," he breaks the silence. "What do you mean?" you ask dumbly and he smiles at you. "Well, kiss you." Flattered, you smile. "But you were always going on about this Edward guy and I didn't know.... Well." "And what are your excuses for the last three months?" you ask, smiling. Joe smiles gently at you. "I didn't mean to push you."

"Okay, that one's on you. But my fault was that I didn't realise what was right infront of me!", you say and put your arms around his neck. "Better late, than never", he replies and kisses you.

Aldbourne, England - May 15, 1944

You and Joe have been inseparable since the night you first kissed. He took you out, took you dancing and you fell in love. You can't say it any other way, but you fell in love with Joe Liebgott. An American soldier.

Today is Joe's birthday, which is why you're meeting him. He is already waiting for you outside the pub when you run up to him and jump into his arms. "Happy birthday my love," you say and kiss him passionately. As he sets you back on your feet, you quickly realise that something is wrong. "What's wrong?" you ask anxiously. Joe hangs his head. "We're being moved," he then says, and you widen your eyes. " Excuse me? Where to?" Sadness rises in you. "To Upottery. It looks like we'll be effectively going to war soon."

Tears well up in your eyes. "Hey sweetheart," Joe says gently and puts a hand to your cheek where he wipes the tear away with his thumb. "Don't cry please." Then he takes you in his arms. "Let's still enjoy the time we have." You give him a hug. "And how long is that? A few days? A few weeks?" you ask desperately. Joe hangs his head sadly. "A few days, I'm afraid." You begin to sob.

As Joe put it, you enjoy the few days you have left together. The night before they are moved, you meet up with Joe again. You enjoy a nice last evening together. As you lie together on a picnic blanket and look up at the sky, he gently strokes your Y/H/C hair. "I'll come back to you Y/N. I promise you that," he whispers and you snuggle closer to him. "And I'll be here waiting for you."

Full of anticipation, Joe gets off the train. At last he sees you again. You've given him strength for the last month. Strength to survive and when the news came that they were coming back to Aldbourne, he would have wanted to jump for joy.

Aldbourne, England - June 30, 1944

Joe's POV:

As they get out of the trucks, a few people are already standing there to greet them. Joe spots Dot, your friend, who immediately throws herself into Alley's arms. But he can't see you anywhere. Strange. "She's not here," Joe hears a voice and turns around. In front of him is Sally, your other friend, who looks at Joe slightly pityingly. "What do you mean?" asks Joe, confused. "Where's Y/N?" Sally takes a deep breath. "She volunteered to help as a nurse. After you guys jumped into Normandy, they put out calls that any helping hands were needed. Y/N's mother was also a nurse, which is why she felt obliged."

Joe looks at Sally in disbelief. This can't be fucking happening. A fucking month he's been waiting to finally be back in your arms and now you're not here.

#Band of Brothers #Band of Brothers x Reader #Joe Liebgott #Joe Liebgott x Reader #bob #Joe Liebgott is a softie (well in this story he is)#OneShot but in 2 Parts #bobedit #joe liebgott #Ross McCall #He's just so hot - sorry #sorry not sorry

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