Turnabout Whatnow? Celestia? Isn’t she that queen horse from My Little Pony?I’m afraid my household was more of a Power Rangers place growing up.
In all seriousness, no, I will not accept crossovers outside PLvsPWAA. I also don’t really want to do headcanons based on fanworks either. I mean, I don’t accept AAI2 headcanons because it has no official English translation, only a fan translation.
So, when you submit your headcanons just consider this: Is this based on an easily accessible, official piece of the Ace Attorney franchise. If the answer is no, then I will delete it or maybe reference it here in my Mod Notes (at best).
But, just this once, here ya go:
Enjoy it. This is the first and last Turnabout Storm headcanon I’ll be doing.
In all honesty, I have been unwell, busy with university and changed computers more times than I care to count. I lost a lot on the way too. I’ve even had to give up my cute trillbys and fedroas because all my original sprites have gone cahpoot! It’s a tragedy.
I’m trying to ease my way into things again, though.
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I still have nightmares.
You can do your own art if you want, but it’s not at all necessary. Most people just submit their headcanon and I club something together using official artwork.
So, feel free to just submit your headcanons and I’ll take it from there.
PURPLE = I don’t talk to you but I really love your blog.CINNAMON = You’re a really cool person and admire you from afar. MAUVE = You are really talented INDIGO = I’ve been following you for a long timeRAZZMATAZZ = I would share my favorite food with youBURGUNDY = I get excited when I see posts from you
"Don’t listen to them. Don’t you EVER listen to them." - SanjixNami ? please
Title: A simple beliefSummary: shaken beliefs and a conversation outside of a pub.Word count: 763A/N: bet you thought i forgot about this, didn’t you. Well JOKE’S ON YOU BECAUSE NOW YOU GET THIS TERRIBLE THING. HA.@ FF
She said, “don’t listen to them. Don’t you ever listen to them.” Her eyes were a blazing amber, and she gripped his chin hard enough to bruise. Sanji looked at her and saw determination and confidence, saw kindness and a love so bright he nearly wanted to cry. She was perfect, and he didn’t know why she tried to help him so much but she did.
He held her gaze for a moment before pulling away. He had never been the brave type. But she stood in front of him still, staring at him through the dimming light of dusk with an expression that twisted her lips downward. He looked at her and thought of mornings and evenings when she was silhouetted by the breaching light, hair mussed and with bags under her eyes after a long fight against the sea’s storms. He thought of her in a torn wedding dress, with blood splatters on the hem and a snarl on her features as she summoned lightning to her will. He thought of late nights when he would stop by her room with a cup of tea, only to find that she had fallen asleep on her map, ink stains on her fingers and smearing across her cheek. He looked at her and thought: she’s beautiful.
He thought: she’s beautiful, and couldn’t bring himself to look back up.
“Sanji.”
He closed his eyes briefly, tried to breathe evenly through the thick haze of alcohol and cigarette smoke painted against the brick walls of the island’s main pub. Raucous laughter echoed from the beneath the backdoor, and he barely noticed the way his nails bit into his palm, barely noticed the way his throat closed up, too intent on the grating sound of that fucker’s voice. Blood, red hot and searing, dripped from his clenched fists. He should have broken that fucker’s neck. He could have, easily. But he hesitated because-
-he believed him. He believed him even though he knew it wasn’t true, he didn’t come all this way to be wrong, he couldn’t be wrong, he wasn’t allowed to be wrong, but he could be and he had believed him if only for a second but it was a second that lasted eighty-five days and a thousand stuttering heartbeats, a second that lasted almost a decade and cost a leg and a dream and a debt that could never be repaid and-
A shaky inhale.
He said, “I’m fine, Nami.”
He wasn’t terribly surprised to find his cheek burning with the imprint of her hand.
“You’re an idiot, Sanji.”
He said nothing.
“You’re an idiot.” Her voice was shaky now, quieter, filled with a sadness that reminded him of a brand in the guise of a tattoo, and he felt his heart break for her. He opened his mouth to apologize, to brush off the entire incident as another stupid fight, to laugh and tell her she was right before offering to escort her back to the inn where they were staying. Instead, he felt the gentle brush of fingers over his cheek, making him snap his mouth shut, almost jerking away in shock.
She said, “you’re an idiot, Sanji. But you’re not an idiot for believing in your dream.”
He thought of her kneeling in the dirt, tears mixed with anger and despair and teetering at the edge of hopelessness, a knife clutched in her blood slicked fingers as if they could save her. He thought of her looking up at them, a plea she so desperately wanted to say long ago finally slipping past her lips. He thought about how close she was to losing her dream, to losing freedom and the wide open spaces the world had to offer because she had almost forgotten to believe. He reached up to clasp his hand over hers, cherishing the warmth from her fingers against his skin.
A steady exhale.
He said, “You’re right, Nami.” and believed it. She gave him one of her more affectionate smiles, and he thought again of mornings and evenings and late nights filled with tea.
“You know my world map isn’t going to be complete without the All Blue, right? So you better find it soon.” She flicked his nose gently, a teasing smirk on her lips. And instead of all the usual things he could have responded with, he looked at her and said, “thank you,” squeezing her hand one more time in gratitude before letting go.
He watched her walk ahead of him, hair swaying gently with the evening breeze, and thought: she’s beautiful.
