HC Humanformers/Humanerror designs yipeee
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HC Humanformers/Humanerror designs yipeee
i love to make them hopelessly in love
human error designs! I always felt like their canon looks didn't do their actual characters justice.
design lore under the cut! if you're into that
edit: my highly requested butch ratchet design
Go my gijinka
I made a bunch of them in gacha studio in 2023 for a bnha/utmv au (lmao) but they were kind of ugly. So i've now made them not ugly.
Title: Human Error
Pairing: Crocodile x fem!reader
Word Count: 635
Summary: At the end of it all, he's simply a man who must face the consequences of his actions.
Note: I really enjoyed writing this! I like humanizing Crocodile a little.
Crocodile must have been standing behind the old wooden door for at least twenty minutes. The hallway was dark and he was happy to be swallowed in it. It’s much easier to hide in the shadows than face your fears, but it is also the philosophy of a coward. The right thing to do was enter, that he knew, yet his feet refused to move. He wasn’t ready. And he wasn’t sure if he ever would be.
He had lied to you.
You had spent the last two years under the impression that your husband was fatally wounded at Marineford. And he allowed this belief. He had his reasons, of course. He did not want you so at risk while he himself was exceptionally vulnerable.
Until this point, it all seemed like a decent idea. You were safe, he worked on establishing the Cross Guild, he’d return to you, and all would be well. Of course, he expected lividity, maybe you would speak of divorce at first, but he would talk you down from that ledge until you both resume where you left off.
What he did not expect were the stories he heard from several former Baroque Work employees who stayed behind with you. They spoke of how gaunt you became, how you only spoke lowly and never a decibel higher. They could hear you some mornings, cursing your husband’s name for leaving you alone while furniture slammed into walls. You even refused to move away from a safe house on the outskirts of Alabasta, desiring to remain close to your husband’s body, wherever that may have been.
Crocodile’s heart ached when the employees spoke of nightly wailing. Lasted for three months, they’d said, and mixed with your refusal to eat, they had broken into your room one night when your crying stopped because they feared the worst. It was then Crocodile realized his error in judgement.
All of this is what brought him to your bedroom door. Forced to confront what might have been his gravest sin.
Despite knowing it was what must be done, he could not bring himself to knock on your door. Maybe if he stood there forever, he could relish in the closeness of you without having to face the anguish that comes alongside it. The potential of you not forgiving him, of leaving him wholly and entirely.
“Who’s there?”
Your voice startled him.
So much so, he let out a sharp inhale through the nose that he attempted to quiet, but you heard anyway.
He did not answer.
It had been so long since hearing you speak that he chose to savor the sound instead.
“I said, who’s there?”
Your voice was firmer this time. Crocodile heard a lamp being flicked on and suddenly, yellow light was spilling from the crack at the bottom of the door.
He knew if he responded, you may not open the door. There was a chance you would conclude the whole thing a hallucination and go back to bed.
His heart rammed against his ribcage as he heard shuffling followed by footsteps inching toward the door.
There were shadows impeding the light below the door. Legs, Crocodile realized, as his throat went dry.
He could leave, a small part of him thought. Your forgiveness would still be possible, but so would your anger. If the door remained closed, he would never have to find out which one awaited him on the other side.
The doorknob began to turn.
It was in that moment, the universe presented Crocodile a choice. He could face the wife he had broken, or he could run before she told him exactly what he deserved to hear.
The decision was made then.
The door creaked open,
and there you were.
A grieving widow peering into an empty hallway.
Messing around with a Human error design
Might change it still, but I’m pretty happy with it for now
EoT Freshs creations
Sound from "Mr Peabody and Sherman"
About to out myself so bad but I gotta live my truth.
I'm a huge fucking freak for Ratchet.
Human Error art below
Cropped, because most of it is embarrassing self-ship art.