♥︎
Welcome to the redhead blog! Where everything here now apparently revolves around two redheads.
Owner and Mod of the first (and currently only) Shanks and Shamrock OP RP blogs.
ᴘғᴘ ᴀʀᴛ ʙʏ ᴋɪᴋᴏʀᴀɴɢɪ
Extra: vic cries = sad stuff, scottward mentioned is my friend Scotty, lovely moots 💕 = anything mutual related, vic answers for answering asks, holly berry = my hg, and this list will likely grow.
. . . . creds to uzmacchiato for the dividers! . . . strawpage!
I could so easily see crocodile with a gun like maybe it just his mob boss style (most likely) but I could so see him having a gun on him for pure shits and giggles having a whole collection even. Maybe even one in his office desk drawer or something. He uses his fucking Russian nesting doll of a hook most of the time (mfer has a poison hook under a sheath and a knife he had three whole layers and still got his ass beat by a stinky 17 year old. ANYWAYS) but the gun is for anybody he doesnt think is worth dealing with just "Mhm mhm yes yes" as he is reaching into his desk drawer or just cause he wants to use it. He has it on his nightstand even though his hook is also on his nightstand even if he is sleeping with his hook. He genuinely has it for purely laughs and his enjoyment to catch people off guard and simply the love of the game.
I once tried writing a fictional fantasy novels when was a teen and I was busy with it throughout high school until I couldn't do it. I hope to revisit it in the near future.
closest I can get
I really need to take better care of my hair, oh and I code once in a blue moon
@licoriceisback @cocoacactus12 @funnyguy2612 @failedtomakeaname @celinaprm + open
Fun fact about me? Ig like, the most interesting one is probably that there were two tiny little holes in my heart that gave me a murmur in my heartbeat until a couple years ago
This is as close as I could get, My hair also has blue underneath at the back but I couldn’t do that so yahh
uhh idk if this counts as a fun fact but doing this had me questioning if I was gender fluid
anyway actual fun fact, I’m iron deficient so I have the worst balance known to man, like corazon type shit and I always almost fall over but I’ve gotten pretty good at catching myself
@punkcorazon @schwazombie @abouttocommitarson @skydaddyzeus @potingus573 +anyone else who sees this like anyone idk
im assumig how i look irl cos i cant make my sona ssooo,,,,,
yyawnnn!! i actually have a very similar choker to this one irl lol,,,,
uuhhh,h,,,,,, hmm,m,,,, iiii,,,,,,,am not interesting hold on let me think,,,,oohhh,,, this one is funnn!!!!!! my ex is trying to get back in contact w me <3333 heheehehehehe yayayyyyy!!!!!!!!/s
edit bcs fml i forgot tags
MY WIFEY YOU ARE DOING THIS EVEN IF YOU CANT @ ANYBODY @gigisplode
@saph-the-queer @punkv1ct0r1a >:]
uuhh,,, who else likes participating in these,,,, @potingus573 and ykw.... you too @yourfeatheredfriend . yeah. uhhh,,,h,h,h,h,hh,, ,,, , , , , , , , , , ,, ,iinddujnnooooo,,,,
I’m naturally loud? Also pretty emotionally aware and smart I’d like to think. I lieiiekrndfncn I’m uh I like I don’t know I can make clicker noises from tlou
sorry I suck at the facts
tags @dantes-paradiso and @kikorangis-artblog and anyone else who wants to add on!
Lucci couldn't figure out why, but he was obsessed with you. So, like any sane person, decides to stalk you for a bit to figure out his feelings.
Lucci was not a man who was really in tune with his emotions or concupiscence, to say the least. He was a soldier, after all, an assassin. The best of the best, even. So, a living weapon like him didn't need or even wish to deal with something as unimportant as feelings, be it others or his own.
It would only drag down his efficiency at work, after all, and what was he if not the best killing machine in all of the Blues?
The very few that have become second nature to him would be his bloodlust, his enthusiasm for violence, and his never-ending sadism, which were nurtured by the World Government itself in the first place.
Other than that?
Nothing.
So, when he started to feel this...affection... for you, it was both a surprise and definitely something uncalled for. He had not even thought that he was capable of feeling something like this, and, worst of all, he seemed to be unable to stop it.
This was the worst part, he thought, that he was craving something without being able to put an end to it, that it was something out of his control. What even was the point of all of this?
It was quite unsettling, too.
Not that he would ever admit it out loud, not even to himself.
It made him feel like a common man, too weak to his own vices, letting his most basic urges control his thoughts and actions, but what else could he do? He had already tried to ignore this...itch, went out of his way to avoid you, hoping it would quiet down after some time. However, as if under some kind of spell, he still craved it.
He wanted to feel how his heart ached when he saw you from a distance.
He wanted to experience that little thud when your eyes met for a second, making him jump with excitement.
He wanted to feel how his throat closed up again when you came to take his order and smiled at him, all your attention on him even if it only lasted for less than a minute or two.
It was an unusual feeling, to say the least, and quite unique, too. It made him feel like a man dying of thirst. He couldn't compare it to anything that he had ever felt before. If he had to describe it, however, well...it was like a wound that sent delicious goosebumps all across his body whenever he dug his fingers in it, he supposed.
It was bleeding, and, in a way, it hurt, but it still felt so good he couldn't help but pick at it.
It was shameful, it hurt his pride in ways that he didn't think were possible, but no matter how much his mind told him to stop his nonsense or else, his gaze always found its way back to you.
You were nothing special, either. Average height, average built, average face, average voice, average life... A typical civilian he had seen many times during his mission, and sometimes, even died during crossfire.
Usually, he never even bothered to look at those small obstacles when he was fighting.
So what was different this time..?
....
....
....
It was probably your eyes, he supposed, some odd shine that kept pulling him towards you.
He didn't say anything about this to anyone, of course, not even his associates. The thought of someone discovering these feelings of his made him feel...exposed, as if caught naked in his own place when he thought he was alone, and made him unmeasurably angry.
Despite this, even when Iceburg noticed that he was taking more breaks than usual when he rarely left his station before, he still visited your workplace regularly.
Every week, a different day and a different hour, but still often enough to make you see him as a "regular."
He hadn't spoken to you directly once, only through Hattori to give you his order, and you never made small talk past "How is your day?", either, and never made more than ten seconds of eye contact before looking away —yes, he did count it every time— yet even then, you still remembered the way he liked his coffee, that he wasn't particularly a fan of sweets but enjoyed red meat the most, and that he prefered to sit near the window and away from loud groups.
You even talked to the manager about not making a problem about Hattori getting into the diner because "the bird was clearly a service animal and, as a business operating at Water 7, they were legally prohibited from denying entry or refusing service to individuals accompanied by trained service animals under the People with Disabilities Act, and were obligated to accommodate both of them if they didn't want to get fined."
Yes, you were a feisty little thing, but only sometimes. Maybe that was one of your charms.
This routine of his was pretty straightforward. Leave Galley-La and, either during his break or after his shift, go to the diner you worked at and sit in his usual spot. On every third day, he came before his shift started and ate breakfast, too, just to give some sense of irregularity. You didn't work on Thursdays and Fridays, so he didn't bother to eat anything on those days at all, but did pick a drink to make sure no one would question his routine and be able to pinpoint that the difference was caused by you, of all things.
As far as anyone could tell, he just enjoyed the meals at that little place more than the other restaurants near Dock 1, even if it was a little bit further away.
Sometimes his coworkers even accompanied him, too, to his annoyance, of course, but it did help with his cover.
He was fairly certain his associates —the ones from CP0, of course, the other sawyers wouldn't even know what was happening even if he spelled it out for them— had picked up on his fairly new habit, but neither of the three had yet to comment on it.
And they wouldn't, if they knew what was good for them.
He followed this routine for weeks, until he did...something else. Maybe he felt that it was not enough anymore, or perhaps he wanted to see more of your life outside of work, he wasn't sure of it, either, but he did something that was far outside of what an assassin working undercover for years should have risked when he was this close to getting the Pluton blueprints.
He followed you home.
You lived in a small apartment in a five-story building. The residents were mostly on the older side; you and a couple with five kids were the youngest. Your place was on the second floor, too.
Easy to climb in and out.
He didn't do that.
At least, not at first.
He looked around the area and noted that this place would be among the first structures to drown when the next Aqua Laguna hit within the next ten years. Not ideal. Rent was probably cheap.
There were two rooms and one living room. You used one as an office/crafts room. You wrote. You liked to draw and paint. You had lots of books packed on top of each other until it almost reached your own height. Clearly, you were messy.
Your bedroom faced the other building's balcony. Not ideal, but he could work through it. There was also a desk with so much stuff on it he could not see the surface anymore.
He followed you after work a couple of times after that. You could say this little venture of his made him bold enough to actually stalk you. Not that he needed much of that. He did this for a living, after all, and going after a citizen with no prior training was far easier than any mission he had ever done, to say the least.
Though this made his heart pound in ways none of his previous targets ever did.
Really, what was this feeling even called?
You didn't have many friends, he realized after a few months. Only three. Your coworkers didn't count, of course. These ones were from back when you were still a student, too. One was working on Main Street, the other at the Blue Station, and the third was planning on leaving Water 7 for a bit to see if they could find a better job with better pay at the Drum Kingdom.
All of you were planning a farewell party for that one. It could take years before the next time you all get to be together again, after all.
You didn't like to drink much. He wondered if this was a personal choice or something that was pushed by your past.
You didn't smoke either, though you did try a few times. You said the nasty taste and the possibility of getting lung cancer were not worth the price.
You usually took the same route every day and visited the same four stores to get your groceries. You also ate the same chocolate bar during your lunch break.
You usually bought something to read rather than clothes. Your friends gave you slack for waiting until your wardrobe was empty before you went shopping.
You didn't like much jewelry, but you did have a few necklaces and bracelets that were gifted to you. You looked uncomfortable wearing them after a few hours, however.
Your mother was on a different Island, staying with relatives, while your dad, who was much older, had died three years prior.
It looked like you were still grieving that from time to time.
You did not like to cry in front of others, either.
And then, as he was hiding on the roof as he did for seemingly the last couple of weeks, watching you cook and sing along to a tune on the radio he did not recognize, Lucci realized that he actually enjoyed, yes, truly enjoyed, watching you go through your domestic life.
He wondered, then, if he could be a part of this, too. If he would actually enjoy living in a peaceful home, going through the notion and enduring the mundane, just like a normal man, and find genuine gratification in it.
He was not normal, though, was he?
Well, whatever the case was, his stay here was temporary anyway. So, perhaps, approaching you, experiencing that peaceful household, the regular person's life through you, with you, until his mission ended and he was sent to the next would not be the worst idea.
