#houdini x crocodile

[cyber-nya]

little princess

while in alabasta, houdini wakes up as a child without any memories of her adult life. crocodile now has a little princess to take care of. a/n: yeah this is just crack. one of many kid fics. likely ooc for crocodile but i think he just has such a soft spot for houdini in this au that it's fine.

Crocodile frowned. Houdini was supposed to meet him for coffee this morning - yet it was twenty minutes past their scheduled time and she still hadn’t shown up. It wasn’t like her, not when she was so excited to try this new coffee shop he’d funded. He checked his watch one last time before heading towards her bedroom. Perhaps she’d just overslept? If anything, she probably got into another book from the library, and stayed up all night reading..

When Crocodile approached the door, he froze. He heard something - someone - sniffling inside. It didn’t sound like Houdini - gods above he knows what that sounds like. It sounds younger, afraid. Had she found someone in the morning and taken them in? Crocodile knocked with his hook, gently tapping the door, before the sobbing picked up.

A chill settled at the back of his neck as he shoved the door open.

In Houdini’s bed sat a small child wrapped in a blanket, eyes wide and sobbing.

“Houdini?” he called out, wondering if she’d simply stepped to the bathroom. He looked around for her, stepping towards the en-suite. Lights are off…

“H-How do you know m-my n-name?” the small child hiccuped, peering from the blanket. The cigar fell from Crocodile’s mouth as he tentatively stepped forward. She sniffled, her whole body trembling. It’s then that he noticed the color of her hair, the shape of her face; the freckles that dot the bridge of her nose and her cheeks. “W-Who are you?”

“Oh, Princess..” He murmured, leaving the forgotten cigar to smolder on the tile floor. Something inside his heart stirred; she looked so afraid, so alone this small. It felt… wrong.

“You - hic - know me? W-Where am I?” Houdini whimpered, shying away from Crocodile as he neared the edge of the bed. “P-Please don’ ‘urt me.” More tears spilled down her face as he reached out to her with his good hand. She backed away, trying to press herself into the pillows behind her.

He paused when he saw her flinch. Princess wasn’t just her nickname - he knew it was her actual title. A title she discarded when she ran away from a wedding she didn’t want, from a family who was selling her off for nothing more than land and power.

Given the way the small version of Houdini was reacting, her life was far worse before she clawed her way to Alabasta. Now was not the time to be proud of how strong the woman he … cared for… was.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said softly, unsure what would earn her trust in this state. Crocodile assumed he was dealing with a Houdini who could be no more than six years old, based on how she looked.

“I told Papa I would be good…” she said softly, shaking her head. Her small hands grip the blanket tightly and Crocodile snarls. It causes the small girl to whimper, and he immediately regrets his lapse in restraint. He’s not soft, but to see such a small child instinctively react like this? (This certainly explained a lot of Houdini’s current behaviors… and it also reminds him a little of Miss All-Sunday’s past.)

“Your Papa isn’t here,” Crocodile said sharply, running his hand through his hair. He knelt at the side of the bed, keeping his distance as Houdini exhaled sharply. “It’s just you an’ me, Princess.”

She sniffled, wiping her still-falling tears from her face. “I’m scared.”

Crocodile took a deep breath. He’d work out the logistics of this later, when he could light up a fresh cigar and think. But for now, he had to prioritize Houdini. “Don’t be,” he muttered, beckoning her closer. “I’ll take care of you.”

Houdini stared, hesitant to move closer. The man at the edge of the bed was massive, and while he was a complete stranger… he wasn’t. Something told her it was okay. She kept the blanket tight in her grip as she shuffled forward on the bed, swallowed whole by the nightgown she woke up in.

“That’s my girl,” Crocodile whispered, offering his hand out to her. He watched as she stared - and he stared in turn, too. She was small, so small as she tentatively grabbed his fingers. Probably barely came up to his thigh if they were both standing. His heart did something funny in his chest and he ignored it; later, later.

“Are - hic - are you sure Papa —“ Houdini stammered, trying to hold back more tears. “Papa isn’t here? I promise I’ll be good, p-please mister…” His size was overwhelming as she got closer, nervously eyeing his hook.

He bit back a snarl at her fear, making a mental note to perhaps threaten her father himself. “Princess, you are far away from your Papa. Far. Away,” he all but spat, trying to maintain his tone. “I promise.”

Another sniffle, followed by a hiccup as Houdini nodded wordlessly. The man’s hand was warm. Safe, even.

“Let’s go get you a new dress. This one is too big for you,” Crocodile said, gently scooping her into his arms, resting in the crook of his elbow. He idly wondered if she could perch on his shoulder in this form, so small against him.

“Can I take a bubble bath…?” Houdini asked so quietly Crocodile almost missed it. She wiped her tears, fingers now tracing the ridges on the gold hook. It felt like an odd request, but then — “If Papa’s far away, can I? He says they’re messy and un.. Uh, un-princess-like. A waste of things, like money.”

The commentary caught Crocodile off guard - he simply nodded. How poorly had she been treated at home as a child? He understood transactional needs and the value of resources, especially out in Alabasta, but…

“Please?”

“I’ll get one of the maids to help you.” He didn’t dare look down at how wide Houdini’s eyes were, or the toothy smile that bloomed.

His cold heart couldn't take it.

[restlesslegs-uselesseggs]

PCOS HUH? Not so bad is it?

Monday nights just don’t seem to be my nights. Once again wide awake at dawns early light nursing a toothache (this thing really must come out soon) and left knee which feels like someone kicked me hard in the side of it. 

Anyhow, for todays topic. 

Part two of my triple score ailments. I don’t honestly believe PCOS to be perceived as “that bad” by the masses. Well I’m here to enlighten. 

As previous posts have mentioned, I became a mother at a relatively young age. The pregnancy started well but ended in Symphysis Pubis Dysfunction, Pre-eclampsia, a good 24hours empty labour after being (oh what’s that word....INDUCED, that’s the one) and then being set up on an epidural along with crocodile clips up the woohoo to be attached to the baby’s head and then rushed into an emergency C-section after the little bundle of joy decided he was going to try and strangle himself with his umbilical cord. I must admit I look back on that experience of the caesarean with some humour. Being drugged up to the eyeballs and chatting up the Dr floating around my head while the others cut open my stomach behind a blue fabric surgical screen that was backlit (by accident or design I don’t know) creating a shadow puppet show worthy of Tim Burton to be frank. As readers of my last posts also know, I was at this time, a single mother to be with my sister as my birthing partner. She was also unofficially my birthing videographer (luckily not at the actual moments of birth, but everything else around it including my dopiness after the epidural is lovingly caught on camera by my big sis) 

I didn’t want it to happen but I started mother hood unbonded with my baby boy. He refused to latch on to allow for breastfeeding and breast pumped into bottles at all hours for a good few weeks. I then unfortunately fell to the curse of postnatal depression and went on a rebellion which lasted around 6 months before the maternal instincts kicked in. During those first 6 months, my mother looked after her grandson, knowing I would come back in time. It was during this time that I met and fell for my current husband and who will always be known as my sons father, has loved him like his own all his life and no one would ever dare tell either one of them any different (The biological donor did a marvellous impression of the great Houdini and that will be the last you hear about him). It was also during this time I decided to have the implant inserted and at the time the one that contained hormones was recommended. it was only after setting up a home and becoming engaged within the following 6 months (I know what your thinking but considering we’re still here after 14years, there may be something to say about whirlwind romances) that we decided to try for our own addition to the clan and the implant was removed.

The rest you already know as such in terms of my last menstrual cycle being just around the time I had an x-ray on my legs at the start of my fibro journey around 13 years ago. 

We continued to try and try and try to conceive. I had blood tests upon blood tests and scans and all sorts, which is honestly quite blurry to recollect but I do remember my ultrasound scan coming back with showing cysts on my ovaries that my Dr said were not that big and could easily be ovaries of someone who hasn’t got PCOS. Not very clear you will admit. So we carried on trying. Hand on heart it was only around 2 or 3 years ago that we actually decided to stop hoping and left it at that. We love our boy to the moon and back but I had always wanted a large-ish family and to finally accept that that would never happen was more painful than I can explain, for both of us.

The above may not tell you all of the affects of PCOS and trust me there are more but may enlighten to one of the hardest to stomach, infertility. Its a soul crusher and I am lucky enough to have been able to go through the experience of pregnancy and birth myself, my husband however never has and unless decides he wants to try somewhere else, never will. This you can imagine opens my mind up to intense emotions of guilt, believing I had ruined his life by not giving him the chance to experience such things.  

There are several more symptoms of this syndrome which I am privy to including hair loss, excess weight around the middle that is a bloody bugger to try and shift and therefore give up in the end, excess facial hair (this one is a doozy for self confidence) and more. All of which we will look into in future posts but for now I need to take some more paracetamol, curl up with my new weighted blanket (another subject for future reference) and try to sleep for perhaps an hour or so before making sure the boy gets up for school and then nap again before my Art History Zoom lesson for college. 

Speak soon peeps 

[cyber-nya]

Delirium // Sandman

Alabasta's sun is not kind to Houdini. Fandom and Pairings: One Piece - Crocodile/Houdini (OFC) Whumptober Prompt: Sunburn / Heat Stroke Tags: Whumptober, Heat Stroke, Sunburn, Vomiting

A/N: Whumptober is here!! I have a bunch of things brainstormed but not written yet. I'll post them as it comes! Here's a version of Houdini and Crocodile meeting for the first time. AO3 link.

Alabasta’s sun is not kind.

The heat radiates off the ground in waves, the sand scorching as Houdini drags her feet. She’s willing herself to keep moving at this point, having underestimated the sheer strength of the sun and the desert’s heat on her journey to Alubarna.

—  

Someone had almost recognized her in Nanohana, or so she tells herself. An innate sense of paranoia flooded her system as she escaped the city, not considering the danger of her journey. Houdini simply wished to hide from the scrutinizing eyes of the port town, as if someone was watching her every move.

And perhaps, in a way, she was right. 

Someone was watching her every move. 

But not someone who wanted to collect on her bounty.

—

Houdini wipes her brow with the back of her hand as she struggles to stand upright. It comes away drenched, beads of sweat clinging to her hairline. Her head is spinning as she tries to keep pushing; she’d finished her water hours ago. No refill station or even building was on her path so far, and it didn’t look like the upcoming distance had anything promising to offer. Just sand, sand, and more sand.

She pauses for a moment, bending over by a rock formation. She feels light-headed, but attempts to shake it off. Just a little longer, Houdini tells herself. But the words don’t fall from her lips; she blinks, confused as the horizon tilts. A shadow lingers in the distance, but it moves too quickly for her to focus on it.

Instead, Houdini struggles to keep the little water in her system, retching as her hand cradles her stomach. She wills her body to stop, because she doesn’t have much left.

The heat is dangerous, and it may take her before anyone else has a chance to.

She whimpers, her shaking hand reaching for the rock formation in an effort to stabilize herself. Houdini barely holds herself upright as the sun beats down on her, sweat staining her clothes. She stops retching for a moment, only briefly, before she collapses to the ground.

The clouds spin as she blinks up, eyes unfocused. There’s a rustling sound she hears approaching - like a sandstorm, drawing closer - before her spotty vision turns to black.

—

Her head spins as she comes to, eyes heavy with exhaustion as she tries to open them.

Houdini realizes she’s not under the blistering sun anymore. The bed is vaguely soft, though the thin sheets are too warm.  She squints, taking in the sterile lighting of the room. A hospital room, perhaps, but something tells her it’s not quite that simple. She relaxes for a moment before realizing this was dangerous - where was she? What face had she been wearing in the desert? She gasps for a breath, finally seeing the IV line connected to her as panic bubbles violently in her chest.

“Breathe,” a deep voice commands her, and she does; Houdini takes a sharp, shallow breath before turning her attention to the voice.

“Wh —“ she starts, eyes frantic as she takes in the massive figure in the doorway.

The look in the man’s eyes is cold and calculating. His appearance is punctuated with a lit cigar - which, isn’t smoking banned? Houdni’s mind races as she looks down at the IV line. Her skin is angry and red, sunburned from her journey.

How much of her was sunburned? That thought superseded her concern regarding the face she’s currently wearing, only to be pulled from it by the man’s throat clearing.

“You must be pretty stupid,” he laughs, exhaling smoke, “or desperate, to travel from Nanohana without proper supplies.”

Houdini bites the inside of her cheek, aware of her mistake. “Or both.”

“Interesting,” the man hums, and it’s then that she realizes one of his hands is a hook.

She frowns slightly as she turns her gaze back to him, trying to remember what had happened before everything went dark. Why was this man smiling at her as if she were a meal? And how did she end up —

“You’ll need several days to recover,” he hummed, staring down at Houdini. “But after that, I’d like to discuss a few things with you.”

Houdini opens her mouth to object, fearing the lingering threat before he is gone. 

The very same sound she heard before passing out from heat stroke - that of an impending sandstorm - can be heard from the hallway.