biblically accurate fishman island, or at least that subplot
Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26 | Part 27 | Part 28 | Part 29 | Part 30 | Part 31 | Part 32 | Part 33 | Part 34 | Part 35 | Part 36 | Part 37 | Part 38 | Part 39 | Part 40 | Part 41 | Part 42 | Part 43 | Part 44 | Part 45 | Part 46 | Part 47 | Part 48 |
Part 49 | Part 50 | Part 51 | Part 52 | Part 53 | Part 54 | Part 55 | Part 56 | Part 57 | Part 58 | Part 59 | Part 60 | Part 61 | Part 62 | Part 63 | Part 64 | Part 65
In the Princess Luffy AU, why did Dragon lie to Crocodile and say that their child (Luffy) had died?
Dragon would have seen this as a necessary step. He wanted to ensure that Luffy was safe and didn’t have to worry that someone would use her as his weakness. Besides, Crocodile had plenty of enemies and wasn’t afraid to provoke them.
He also knew that Crocodile wouldn’t want to give her up. She was her mother.
So he had to do it for the sake of their daughter.
You should draw Dragon with his usual bitch face and then he sees Croc and starts looking like Luffy
omg!! havent checked tumblr in a few days and i had a lot of notifications, haha. sorry for the late response, thank you for the suggestion... here it is!!! wani-swaaan... (i didnt try much with this one haha...)(also i forgot crocodiles scar so had to edit the post... T_T)
The crocomom/crocodad phenomenon is something that could only happen in the one piece fandom and nowhere else and even if I am not as invested in it as others I really love it and it’s pretty fun. Like, only one piece fans could look at a theory like “ Crocodile is a trans man and he gave birth do Luffy “ and run with the idea so much for so long and make such cool content about it. It’s a wacky crazy idea with the potential for angst and drama and One Piece is a wacky crazy story that’s also filled with angst and drama.
Personally, I am totally into the idea of Crocodile being trans because a) the idea rocks and b) it makes sense considering his and Ivankov's whole deal
Steampunk is cool but i think just straight up punk would be cooler. I just think what they stand for lines up a lot better
Design notes:
I did some research and talked to a punk friend of mine for these as i am not a punk, myself, and I dont want to look like a poser. I think i did a really good job translating them and i want to explain my thoughts!
Sabo was first, of course.
I not only wanted to make the characters punk, but i also wanted to crank their designs up about 20 notches, so i gave Sabo’s scar one hell of an upgrade. In this version I tried to make it very clear that that cannon ball hit him head-on. I think it works really well with his punk vibes because under-cuts and shaved parts of the head in general are very popular in punk culture.
I largely tried to keep the silhouettes the same with this au, and It was really easy to keep it with Sabo because of the fact that he already has a lot of design elements that translate well to punk. His big pants into tall boots were perfect to translate, crust pants and steel toed boots fits him well. Trench coats arent a staple in Punk, but i couldnt take the coats away from him… him or Belo. They deserve it…
I threw away his cravat for a choker, i replaced his vest with a red tank top and his undershirt for fishnets, Patches up the wazoo, he looks very cool.
Belo Betty was next, she was super easy to translate. She’s already in the punk spirit with her tits out, we love to see it. Her hat was really difficult to translate, along with all the other hats, but a red knitted hat that has those two points cuz it’s essentially a scarf sewed together looks nice on her.
My punk friend suggested i give her a bunch of nets and harnesses and i really agreed that was her style, so i gave her red tie to Morley, slapped some harnesses on her and just overall just turned her sexy up like 50 notches. I think i was clever how i adapted her striped stockings here with how they have runs in them.
Karasu is almost the exact same. I just threw out his dinky little cravat and gave him a bandana and harness. I also gave him piercings. That’s the only difference. In the words of my Punk friend “hes naked and wearing a spiked mask, He can hang”
Speaking of what my punk friend said, he said that Lindbergh would get “demolished” in the pit, and that he looks like he’s scared of bees. The consensus was that he couldn’t hang. But also i still had to make him punk, so then he suggested CBGB punks:
Redneck, bluegrass, southern american punks. I was really in a rut with his design, I didn’t know what to do to keep the silhouette of his backpack. But everything changed when I chance got the idea of a guitar. And then everything flowed from there
Morley was really really fun. Punk friend suggested i make her Pop Punk, inspired by this pic
Mainly Lindsey way with this plaid skirt and tie
She was so so fun to draw, i love her fucked up eyes.
For dragon, i didnt change much at all, even though it’s only his bust that’s shown. Imagine everything is the same, except now he has piercings. Dragon isnt concerned with the punk fashion, but the punk cause.
For Luffy, I wasnt trying to make him punk, but he felt a bit plain looking like base Luffy next to punk Sabo, so i just did the “turn design up 20 notches”, and just gave him a more visibly tattered hat, bangles and waist beads.
That’s about it! Ive been getting a lot of comments and asks lately saying that you guys like when i go on my design explanations, and i realized that i didnt do that for the last few AU’s, so i thought id type this up :)
Long Forgotten Fairytale Ch. 15 (Soft Yan Shamrock x Reader, NSFW, angst and fluff, canon divergent / adjacent, WIP)
18+ MDNI | on Ao3 | the other chapters
Shamrock POV
“Clover, it’s only an hour a day –”
“No.”
“He can’t touch you in any way without your permission. It’s only talking –”
“No.”
“Shamrock is the only Celestial Dragon of his level who has ever defected. The amount of information he knows is unparalleled –”
“No.”
“But you don’t have to do anything, just talk with him for an hour a day –”
“No! You said it yourself, he’s a Celestial Dragon –”
“Former Celestial Dragon,” Dragon interjected with a raised finger.
“ – and you heard what he said! He wants to collect me and take me back to Marie Geoise as his slave! I can’t believe you of all people want to subject me to that,” you hissed, spinning around on your heel to leave. Dragon sputtered, his hands up in supplication to you.
“Clover, wait! That’s not true! Tell her Shamrock, that’s not what he meant! I’ll…I’ll get you an assistant for your work! He hasn’t even told me your connection, maybe he wasn’t your master. You won’t know unless you talk to him,” Dragon pleaded, physically cutting you off from your escape route to the door. You narrowed your eyes at him and crossed your arms over your chest.
“I am not a bargaining chip for you to use! I will be no one's pawn!” you exclaimed, blowing hair out of your face.
“Clover, listen–” Dragon began another renewed effort at getting you to agree to the deal he’d struck with Shamrock.
In retrospect, telling you he was going to collect you wasn’t Shamrock’s finest line. He had imagined your reunion so many times, but hadn’t actually thought through what he was going to say. Everything in his mind had gone blank upon seeing you again, your beauty and charms disarming him more than ever. He had said the first thing that came to mind and it had upset you. Which, he understood. He’d apologize to you at a time when you were receptive to hearing it. Still, Shamrock would let Dragon deal with the fall out. He wasn’t in the habit of begging, and he wasn’t going to start in front of Dragon.
It was strange to have to introduce himself and have you so opposed to spending time with him. The person you were before would have already been tucked under his arm, hanging on his every microexpression. But you had changed in your time apart from him, and there was no way of undoing that. Shamrock wasn’t sure he would want to change you back – you were so alive right now, a person in your own right rather than an extension of himself.
Your reunion was one of his recurring fantasies, and in his deepest desires you would recognize him and fold yourself into his arms. However, he knew this was not a likely outcome. Beyond the fact that you didn’t know who he was, you had led separate lives many years by this point. Shamrock had no interest in forcing your compliance – he wanted you just as enthusiastic and sweet as you had been all those years ago. For that, he was willing to wait and reintroduce himself to you. He wasn’t the same as Shanks – heavens forbid – but he and his brother shared a certain magnetism that he was sure would win you over. He’d waited for so long to see you again, he would wait until you were willing to come to him.
For that reason, Shamrock merely crossed his legs, idly petting Titus as he watched the scene play out in front of him. He knew you’d come around eventually and agree to talk to him for an hour a day. The deal was heavily in Dragon’s favor – Shamrock would spend time with you, and in return share the secrets of Marie Geoise and the Holy Knights. Dragon would do anything ensure your compliance, so in the meantime he enjoyed seeing your newfound fiery personality. He supposed it was an inevitable outcome from living in the Lower World, and he found it rather attractive. You were no longer the meek slave of all those years before, but now a passionate woman. You were standing your ground against one of the strongest men in the world, and seemingly winning.
Shamrock had also enjoyed your jab at his brother’s facial hair, your barb hitting home. Shanks adamantly denied it but he had styled his goatee after seeing Shamrock’s. Despite being identical, Shamrock felt it didn’t suit his younger brother and had already told him as such. He was glad to see he wasn’t alone. Frankly, it was his look and he didn’t want his brother copying him.
Dragon turned serious as you tried to duck under his arm, putting his hand on your shoulder. He donned an expression that Shamrock wasn’t quite sure how to place. It was like one Beckman sometimes gave Shanks, but softer and kinder. It was paternal, Shamrock realized, something akin to worry and concern. Despite having a parent of his own, Shamrock had never seen that look on Father or anyone else he knew.
“Clover. Shamrock isn’t taking you to Marie Geoise. You are a member of the Revolutionary Army. He can’t return there without facing certain death. You have my word that you will remain here with us as long as you wish. Do you have faith in the Revolutionary Army?” he asked, looking you in the eyes. You pursed your lips and nodded, still wary.
“We all need to make sacrifices to bring down the World Government. Many have sacrificed their lives for our mission. All I am asking is for you to spend an hour in his company every day. He cannot touch you, much less hurt you. In exchange, Shamrock will share information the likes of which we could have never hoped to gain. It will save countless lives, and impact millions of others. Can I have your word that you will spend an hour with Shamrock every day?” Dragon asked, laying the manipulation on thick. Shamrock could spot it a mile away, but you perhaps were more susceptible to it since you hadn’t encountered much manipulation. Not that you could remember, anyway. It was silent for a few moments as you weighed your options.
“Alright. I’ll meet with him for an hour,” you finally said, looking up at Dragon.
“In the afternoons or evenings only,” Shamrock butted in to stipulate. You sputtered, finally looking directly at him. Shamrock raised an eyebrow even as he wanted to preen for you like an awkward teenager.
“You are not a morning person. I would rather enjoy your sharp mind at its full potential,” he said as Titus rolled over in his lap, revealing his belly. Shamrock gave you an expectant look as he rubbed his fingers in Titus’ softest fur. Your mouth fell open in outrage and you looked up at Dragon to say something. He beseeched you, raising his eyebrows in an unspoken plea.
“Fine. In the afternoons or evenings,” you gritted out.
“And again, he can’t touch you unless you permit it,” Dragon continued, removing his hand from your shoulder. Your mouth was set and your shoulders back like Dragon had sentenced you to torture.
“Very well,” you hissed, ducking under Dragon’s arm and storming out the door.
As the heavy door slammed shut with a resounding bang, Shamrock smiled.
Your POV
Maybe there was a devil fruit out there that let you explode people with your mind. Because if there was, you were going to find it and eat it so you could explode Shamrock.
And maybe Shanks too just for the hell of it.
You’d never met someone so irritatingly collected as Shamrock. It seemed like there wasn’t anything that you could do or say that would upset him. Like you had agreed, you met up with Shamrock in the afternoon. For the location you chose the small flower garden since it was one of your favorite spots on the island. Despite having only exchanged three sentences with him, you were already cross with Shamrock.
You plopped yourself down on the stone bench in the shade and remained completely silent as you watched the Celestial Dragon enter the small garden. Shamrock took a seat on the bench opposing yours and watched you calmly, a small smile on his lips. You glared back. Titus, ever the traitor, was there as well. He had stayed with Shamrock the entire afternoon and was now napping in a patch of sunlight.
It didn’t take Vegapunk to put everything together – Shamrock was a defected Celestial Dragon who wanted to spend time with you and you were a former slave from Marie Geoise. Clearly there was some kind of relationship between you that he wanted to rekindle. You snorted out loud – that wouldn’t be happening. You’d sit with him, sure. Dragon had made it clear that Shamrock was helping the RA in ways that no one ever had before. But there wouldn’t be anything between you.
Ever.
The two of you sat in silence for nearly the whole hour as you glowered at him from about ten feet away. You had no interest in conversing with him, and Shamrock evidently did not wish to begin either. You felt like each minute was an eternity, lasting longer and longer with the deafening silence.
Bored out of your mind, you ran your eyes over Shamrock. What people wore and how they carried themselves revealed a lot so you were trying to discreetly gather as much information as you could. It wasn’t a trick, you thought, Shamrock definitely belonged to the noble class. Shamrock noticed immediately, his smirk growing as he caught you looking at him. You huffed and averted your gaze, looking instead at the flowers blooming behind him. Eventually, Shamrock stood up gracefully and walked the perimeter of the garden, stopping a few feet away from you to inspect a blood red rose.
True to his word, Shamrock had not made any moves to touch you. In fact, he hadn’t even spoken a single word to you. Why was he waiting for you to break the silence? Celestial Dragons cared for nothing and no one and were revered as gods. He should want to pontificate and bloviate endlessly. His divergence from what you expected only irritated you more – you didn’t want any part in the strange games he was playing. Your blood boiled – how dare he toy with you?
But what bothered you the most was that he looked so goddamn pretty. In fact, you were not proud to admit you found him downright gorgeous. Shamrock was literally the man of your fantasies, there was no doubt about it. But it was more than that. Whereas Shanks was carefree charisma, Shamrock was smoldering heat. His hair flowed in waves down his back, his well manicured hands elegant in every movement he made. And did the wind have to blow his cloak just so to reveal his open chest? How did he make being single handed look so sexy? Shamrock looked the part of a despotic noble, but damn if he didn’t make it look good.
You hadn’t forgotten the singular memory that you’d retained from your time together, how he’d cradled you against him in the afterglow of tender, passionate lovemaking. Your mind railed against you – he’d probably coerced you or forced you to be with him, you thought. Though, from what you could remember of that night, you had been as fervent in your desires as he was in his. You narrowed your eyes at him once more, certain that he had played some kind of disgusting trick to make you act that way.
Shamrock removed a chrysanthemum from the bush behind you, extending it to you in a mute offering. You scoffed and ignored him, your fingers gripping your thighs a little harder. One of your hands roved higher, pulling at the emerald around your neck. There were only a few minutes left of the hour since you’d spent most of your time scowling at him. Shamrock pushed his stupidly beautiful hair behind his neck and continued watching you as if he had all the time in the world. This was too much for you – your anger boiled over and you had to say something.
“Just because you’ve commandeered my time doesn’t mean I enjoy spending time with you. In fact, I despise you. I’m only doing this for the sake of the Revolutionary Army. If I want to ignore you every single day, I shall,” you said petulantly. You were being bratty, but you didn’t care. He deserved everything you said to him and worse. Yet you weren’t being nearly as nasty as you should be, something in you stopping you from flowing with hate.
“I do not mind. We have spent innumerable hours in companionable silence together,” Shamrock replied easily, twirling the stem between his fingers before smelling it. You felt like hissing at him but you merely sniffed. You loved the chrysanthemums dearly, and had always wanted to take one to bring back to your room. But ultimately you thought it would be too selfish to deprive everyone else of its beauty. Clearly, Shamrock did not feel the same way. How typical of a Noble, you thought.
“And you do not despise me. Perhaps you wish you did, but you do not. I know you well. You are curious,” he said, now smelling the flower. Your face burned hot with his assessment – you were curious about your past but you’d never admit he was right.
“I am not!” you retorted, turning to face him. “I do hate you! I could only feel hatred towards someone who has directly contributed to the suffering – probably has ordered the suffering –”
“You fidget with your necklace when you are curious or distressed. I do not sense you are distressed. Incensed perhaps, but not distressed,” he supplied. You flushed even further as he read you like an open book. It was beyond humiliating to be completely understood by someone you had no memories of. Or at least, only one memory.
“You do not wish to know anything about your past?” he asked softly, the corner of his mouth quirking upwards slightly. You again wished to be able to explode this man as he lured you into talking to him against your desires.
“Of course I do. Do you know what happened to my memories?” you asked, despite already knowing the answer. He wouldn’t have demanded your time unless he knew about your past. And yes, you hated him and everything he stood for, but he likely was the only way you’d find out what had happened to you prior to Kuraigana. Once he revealed what had happened you could go back to sulking endlessly until this stupid deal was over.
“Indeed. I know everything about you. Your past, how you came to be literate, how you got your peculiar slave mark, the chain about your neck, about Titus. I know it all,” he said languidly, taking a few steps towards you. You shut your mouth and weighed your options. On one hand, you didn’t want to talk to Shamrock any more than you had to. On the other hand, he might be the sole person who could give you the answers you had been seeking for years.
“And I will tell you anything you wish you know,” he said, taking the final step that brought him next to you. You looked up at him, swallowing thickly. He couldn’t touch you per Dragon’s rules but that didn’t stop the wind from carrying a very familiar scent to your nose. Shamrock’s scent was similar to Shanks – notes of orange with a hint of cinnamon – but his also had a touch of cloves and tobacco. The scent scratched an itch you didn’t know you had, like your brain was trying to conjure memories but coming up short.
“You will?” you asked distractedly, momentarily caught off guard by his smell.
“Of course. If you answer mine, that is. We can go question for question,” he suggested, his cloak gently flapping in the wind. You were about to answer when he sighed and gave you a soft smile.
“But you’ll have to wait. Our time is up. Until tomorrow,” Shamrock said breezily, setting the flower down beside you. Before you could think of a retort for him, Shamrock had sauntered away, with Titus following in tow. Even without the exact resemblance, he was absolutely Shanks’ twin brother. You seethed in anger, your hands balling into fists on your legs. You threw the flower to the other side of the garden, the bloom landing in the soft grass.
Shamrock was trying to use this deal against you, you knew that. He wanted something from you, and you were going to fight him tooth and nail to prevent him from getting it.
Even so, you gently picked up the flower as you stomped off out of the garden. Shamrock had already picked it, there was no use in letting it go to waste. And he was gone, he wouldn’t know if you took it or not. You’d put it in a vase in your room, where he’d never see it.
Your next mission after finding out about your past was looking for that fruit.
Shanks POV
Shanks watched as Shamrock meandered through the main street, a grin on his face. For as prissy and annoying as his brother was, Shanks was glad to see that the reunion between you had gone well. Shanks hadn’t been joking when Shamrock first joined the crew. He strongly felt that without you, Shamrock would become a complete maniac with nothing left to lose. Shanks shuddered at the thought – he was strong, and Shamrock was too. For as much as his brother annoyed him, he didn’t want to fight him to the death. Not that he’d lose, of course, but still. And really, Dragon had enough problems right now. He didn’t need his island split apart by some brotherly bickering.
For that reason alone, Shanks was happy that it had gone well. Well, that was Shamrock’s estimation of events. Shanks was curious about your perspective on the meeting, though even he knew better than to go find you right now. Shanks would gather his information the normal way – through Ginny and Iva after they’d been drinking. Shanks and his crew were holed up under the shade of a large tree near the center of the main campus, enjoying alcohol that their friends in the Revolutionary Army provided.
“He’s smiling,” Yasopp said, pausing his drinking to watch Shamrock amble by. Everyone was trying to surreptitiously watch over the rims of their glasses.
“He’s strolling,” Limejuice said, his mouth hanging open.
“I haven’t seen him crack a smile outside of when he beats you in drinking contests,” Rockstar said, watching Shamrock reach into his breast pocket for his flask.
“Which he never has,” Shanks said amicably as Shamrock continued walking, that fucking horse-cat following him like a shadow. It was actually annoying how good looking Shamrock was. Yes, he was identical to Shanks but Shamrock somehow seemed more debonair and suave. Shanks thought he’d be the clear winner in the looks department, but it wasn’t so. Maybe it was that mysterious nature of his, Shanks thought, pulling on his goatee. You and Shamrock were wrong, Mihawk was going to love it.
“I heard she ripped him a new one,” Beckman said, lighting another cigarette. Beckman was noticeably more relaxed than he had been during docking. Shanks was happy he’d found some way or other to chill out.
“How’d you hear that?” Shanks said, facing his first mate.
“Iva,” Beckman said, putting out his match.
“She doesn’t give information without pay. Whadya give her?” Lucky asked. Beckman smirked and raised an eyebrow.
“Somethin’ she’s been wantin’,” he said, exhaling smoke out his nose. Shanks gave him a wicked grin.
“Clover tore into him and he likes it? I told him his hair was tangled one time and he drew his sword,” Hongo complained.
“I think she could rip off his other arm, beat him with it, and he’d thank her,” Shanks grumbled. If he was being honest, he was glad for a break from his brother. Shamrock wasn’t exactly what Shanks had been expecting, but he certainly wasn’t a pirate either. Shanks had been the primary target for his brother’s anger throughout their journey together. Though the more Shamrock revealed about his life in Marie Geoise, the more Shanks understood the deep seated rage and suspicion that clouded Shamrock’s decisions.
“He’s not gonna, like, hurt her or try or make her a slave again. Right?” Bonk said, coming back to their spot with another round of ale. You had wormed your way into their hearts despite your outwardly indifferent demeanor towards them on Kuraigana. In fact, their estimation of you was similar to that of Mihawk’s. Yours was actually higher thanks to the biscotti you had baked for them. Well, not for them, but they’d eaten their fair share.
“Nah,” Shanks said simply. He had worried about the same thing initially and had spoken to Shamrock a few times about it. It had made Shanks feel a little better to hear that he wanted to get to know you, to slowly reintroduce himself and try to make you fall in love with him again. Shanks wasn’t sure that was possible, but Shamrock didn’t seem to have the same doubts.
Frankly, Shanks felt sorry for Shamrock in a lot of ways. He couldn’t imagine a better way to grow up than on the Oro, with Roger and Rayleigh and Gaban and Buggy. It was adventure and fun and love and incredible experiences all rolled into one. And based on what Shamrock had revealed, Shanks couldn’t imagine a worse way to grow up than with their father and the other God’s Knights.
Shamrock had to sacrifice everything in order to keep the only person who had ever shown him human kindness safe. His love for you was considered a weakness, an aberration, and based on what he had said, you would have been swiftly killed if not for Shamrock. Shamrock had never revealed to him the entire story of what had happened that resulted in your memory loss, but it must have hurt him immensely to say goodbye to the only person he’d ever loved and return to Marie Geoise.
“I can hear you, you chittering hens,” Shamrock said, pausing in his tracks. Shanks’ eyebrows raised on his forehead. Holy fuck Shamrock was in a good mood, he hadn’t even threatened bodily harm to anyone on the crew.
“Come drink with us,” Shanks urged, grabbing a tankard of ale. Shamrock considered the idea for a moment, tilting his head slightly to the side. Shanks was proud of himself – he’d been working on Shamrock for weeks on end trying to make him more social and amicable. He had been met with a lot of resistance at first, but had made admirable progress if he did say so himself. Shamrock retained his haughty and condescending nature, but at times he could be nearly pleasant. Shamrock turned around and ambled towards Shanks, his mood apparently still on record high.
“Very well. Only one round. I must make preparations for tomorrow.”
Notes:
Shanks is catching strays bc I think it’s funny. You can’t be annoying all the time and expect people not to be annoyed.
Shanks’ flower as listed in his Vivre Card is the Japanese Toad Lily, so I took notes from that to give Shamrock his scent. I've never smelled it myself (I think?) so I hope it matches.
