#loganwritesocs

[loganwritesprobably]

Marsh: What do you need? Buggy: Just a very small favour, I promise Marsh: The last time you said that, I had to yell at red haired Shanks Buggy, sweating, thinking about Mihawk and Crocodile: This favour is scarier than Shanks..

[loganwritesprobably]

Marsh: Buggy, Cap, Dude, I'm fine

Buggy: I mean I would believe you but you have a knife sticking out of your leg so

[loganwritesprobably]

Sleepy Girl

I am obsessed with my friend's OCs at the minute so take some platonic fluff between my OC Marsh and @bloglophop's Mila!

Content/Warnings: Marsh & Mila, sibling-like relationship, sleepover, exhaustion, mention of bad family relationships, discussion of poor mental health/injuries, angst, fluff

Mila was a woman who often worked herself down to the damn bone. Rarely took a break, was always working so hard for the sake of her image, safety, and a family that didn’t fucking deserve it. It drove Marsh insane. He was no stranger to working hard, no fool to believe that anyone could take it easy when they worked with such big players the way Mila did - it was just that she had nothing to show for it that bothered him. She set zero boundaries, and had no concept of when she had reached her limit.

So, when she arrived on the Sun Serpent, swaying on her feet with a letter from home for Nimue, Marsh scooped her up into his arms no matter how much she yelled and hit his back. “You’re exhausted, kit, it’s time for bed.” It was midday, but that didn’t matter to Marsh. He was absolutely sure she hadn’t slept in at least a day if not longer, and there was no way he’d let her go without getting at least five hours of sleep, absolute minimum. Mila’s protests slowly faded away, too tired to argue, and Marsh was wearing a particularly soft sweater that day, so he was quite comfortable.

By the time Marsh reached his bed, Mila had fallen asleep on his shoulder. The next time he saw Law, Marsh was giving the doctor a piece of his mind - he seriously needed to talk to her about doing things like this. If he knew, that was, but surely there was no way he didn’t. Slowly, gently, Marsh set her down in his bed, pulled off her shoes and the warmers she wore on her legs, setting the shoes down under the bed and the warmers he folded and set on top of his dresser. Then came her skirt, leaving her shorts on underneath because he was no pervert, and then her sweater, both of which he also folded and set aside. He ummed and ahhed for a minute over whether to take off her bra because he was aware how uncomfortable the things could be, then settled on removing it without removing her shirt, again because he’s not a fucking pervert. He removed her hat last, setting that on the top of the pile of her clothes, and then brushed all her hair from her face. The fact that she’d remained asleep through the entire process was a testament to how tired she was, and the fact that he was exactly right - it was nap time. He tucked her gently into bed and kissed her forehead before slipping away to let her rest.

Gwen and Nimue fussed on the deck, not quite reassured by Marsh that she really was okay, but he promised they could both see her once she was awake - nobody was to disturb her and he was firm on that. Corwin stood from his seat beside Atley at the map table on deck, and made direct eye contact with Marsh for a very long minute. Marsh did not stand down. “Leave the girl be.” Corwin confirmed, and that was conversation over.

Marsh sat with Calder and Lance to discuss her being there - the entire crew knew Mila by now, but Marsh had undermined Calder’s authority by simply deciding she would stay. The meeting was a short ten minutes, but they decided Mila was always welcome aboard the Sun Serpent, and so there was no issue with her resting on board. They all sat together for dinner, and Ellery set aside a portion of cold food for Mila in case she woke.

She didn’t. Mila arrived at roughly midday, and didn’t wake until morning the next day. Marsh was concerned for a short while that something was wrong, but Gwen had assured him that she was just resting, catching up on sleep she was missing, and her body was allowing her to rest because she felt safe. Gwen also healed all of her minor wounds, and a fractured wrist that Marsh would be very sternly discussing with her when she woke up.

By the time Mila did wake, Marsh was sitting in the bed beside her, her head in his lap while he read a book. She woke slowly, blinking awake confused and disoriented. But, when she processed who was above her, a broad smile broke out over her face.

“Good morning, sleepy kit.” Marsh greeted, slipping a bookmark into his book and setting it aside to focus on his friend in his lap.

“How long have I been asleep?” She asked, voice still rough from sleep, a soft yawn escaping her. “Just short of twenty hours.” Marsh replied, a small smirk on his face. Mila startled and went to sit up, but a hand on her shoulder prevented her.

“Slow down, baby hare. It’s fine. Nobody minds, and you definitely needed that sleep.” Marsh assured her gently, carding his fingers through her hair to keep her calm. “Who undressed me?” She asked, relaxing under his ministrations. “I did. Just down to what was appropriate, I wanted you to be comfortable.” He replied, and she just nodded, settling in his lap. There was a brief silence where they simply lay there, comfortable in bed and together, before Mila spoke. “Read to me for a while?” And Marsh couldn’t deny her.

They emerged from the room an hour and a half later, Mila wearing her safety shorts and one of Marsh’s shirts like a dress, only to be immediately swarmed by Nimue. She lifted up Mila and chatted away to her, and Mila let it happen, happy to be lifted up onto the fish woman’s shoulders while she fussed like the mother hen she was. Marsh headed through to the kitchen to find Ellery and collect a late breakfast, giving his friend a quick side hug as thanks, then narrowly avoided being hit with his cane like a professional. He deposited the two plates on the table where Nimue had sat herself and Mila, and seamlessly inserted himself into their conversation. “You know you’re always welcome here, sugardrop, but you really do need to be taking better care of yourself, we all worry about you.” Nimue worried, and Mila just pushed her breakfast around her plate, a little embarrassed about passing out like she had. “Speaking of worrying about you - Gwen had to repair a fractured wrist.” Marsh commented easily, which only made Nimue begin a new tirade. Marsh and Mila made eye contact, which if he were a lesser man would’ve made Marsh crumble. Instead, he stuck out his tongue at her and continued eating his breakfast. 

“Okay momma, we got it.” Marsh said eventually, reaching out a hand to rest on Nimue’s shoulder, finally giving Mila a break. Satisfied that she’d gotten her point across, Nimue reached around and pulled Mila close for a hug. “It’s always wonderful to see you. Maybe next time it’ll be in better health.” She said, then left Marsh and Mila alone to enjoy their breakfast. A long, slightly tense silence followed. They both knew what conversation was coming next, but neither was quite ready to have it.

“You passed out.” Marsh said eventually, having pushed his plate away, a mug of coffee keeping his hands warm. “I know.” “Out of exhaustion.” “I know.” “How many days was it since you last slept?” There was a brief pause in which Mila’s face tinted pink. “Two.” She admitted in a whisper. “Kit,” Marsh said, turning to her with a concerned expression, “that’s not healthy.” “Yeah. I know.” Mila said, a little more harsh this time. He wasn’t telling her anything new. Another pause followed. “I worry about you. A lot.” Marsh said softly, reaching out to take Mila’s hand in his.

“I know. I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry. Never be sorry that people care about you, kit. That’s our job, we’re your friends. Your family.” He assured her. Marsh set down his mug and scooped Mila up into his arms, pressing her close against his chest, allowing her to sit comfortably in his lap. “I don’t want anyone to worry about me.” “That’s my job. You’re like a little sister to me, Mila, and I’ve never had that before. I’d burn down the world around us before I let anyone hurt you. I worry so much. Mostly, because you remind me of me.” Mila stiffened slightly at the word sister, and Marsh figured they could circle back to that. “What do you mean?” “I used to do this. Staying awake for days on end, not eating right, not drinking enough water. Couldn’t sleep for.. A lot of reasons, even after I got away from Chester. It’s so hard sometimes - but you have people who love you Mila, people who will do anything to keep you safe. You are safe.” Marsh said, speaking mostly into her hair, keeping her close both to comfort her and himself. “I didn’t know that. You always kind of.. Seem like you have it together.” “I didn’t always. Still don’t, not really. Every day is a day we can choose to get better. It’s not always easy, but you have to make that choice sometimes. Choose to do better for yourself, and for the people around you.” He whispered, carding his fingers through her hair once again. If his shirt became a little damp just where Mila’s head was resting, neither of them acknowledged it out loud.

“You really see me like a sister?” She asked in a whisper, voice thick with tears she was trying to hold back, not daring to look up at Marsh, hoping she could avoid showing just how emotional her words had made him. “Yeah. If that’s alright with you. I know you have a lot of brothers already, and I have some.. Strong opinions about them, but I hope you’ll let me look after you the way they should’ve.” He told her, gently pushing Mila to sit back so he could wipe at her face with his sleeves, brushing away snot and tears. “Yeah. I.. I’d like that.” She agreed, giving Marsh a watery smile, and the two just laughed, unable to do anything else. “I’ve got you, Mila Box. Me, and Law, and the rest of this crew. You always have a safe place with us.” Marsh promised, hooking his pinkie finger with hers.

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[loganwritesprobably]

Marsh: It's pride month Buggy, you know what that means

Buggy: What? Do you want us to do the circus gayer?

[loganwritesprobably]

I generally don't reblog art on this account anymore but I just had to share this wonderful piece of my OC Atley! He's one of my many one piece OCs and this absolutely stunning artist whipped this up for me - my first piece of Atley too!!

Definitely go give them a follow if you're someone that enjoys content about other people's OCs, and so you can enjoy their art!

° ✨️🌠✨️

for you: @loganwritesprobably

Thank you so much for the opportunity to work with your character 👉👈💕

[loganwritesprobably]

A Thin Line

Just a little smutty angsty stuff with my OC Corwin and @categoryace's OC Evanthe

Content/Warnings: smut, toxic relationship, angst, ending of a sexual relationship, one sided feelings, hurt/no comfort, piss kink, snail sex, masturbation, degradation, animalistic zoan traits, first (real) kiss, physical fight

There is a very thin line between hate, and love, or so people say. Corwin has become familiar with that more intimately than he ever would’ve guessed, or would dare to admit.

Evanthe was everything Corwin hated in one body. He was loud, annoying, narcissistic, and unfortunately he was also hot. He didn’t even remember how it had happened the first time, but they’d fallen into bed together and every time they encountered each other it seemed to happen again. Then Corwin gave him his personal snail number. It was a rookie error really, he was getting in too deep, and he’d been here before and gotten hurt but this time it was different because he wanted nothing more than to bash Evanthe’s skull in.

Until it wasn’t different at all.

“I hate you.” He’d growled down the snail, listening as Evanthe fucked himself with a dildo, one Corwin had personally sent to him, a mold of his own, he listened until the pathetic slut came over his perfect silken sheets untouched as he had a dozen times before. He found himself feeling glad that the other man was too deep in his own pleasure to notice that for the first time, his words were a lie. He didn’t call Evanthe for three weeks after that. It wasn’t that they had a schedule of any kind, but generally speaking the calls came at least once a fortnight. Corwin couldn’t bear to call again, to hear Evanthe moaning for him and to know he couldn’t really have it. He knew himself well, and he knew what he could handle, and he knew what he felt. He felt too much for Crisanto Evanthe. Any amount of genuine feelings for that buffoon was too much, but he was far too deep. The fact that there was even a general schedule for how often they called and that showed that he was in too deep. So he went cold turkey.

The next time he got any hint of Evanthe was on an island - in person, which was the worst kind of way to be with Evanthe, especially after so long separated. He had wanted to remain strong, to keep himself away, and behave. He just needed to behave. But of course, nothing ever went Corwin’s way. Instead, he bumped into Evanthe in a bar and had to pull him outside and around the back of the place, shoving the man to his knees on the ground. He’d not so much as said a word until the slut was kneeling before him, looking as if he was ready to worship. “You’re so pathetic. I bet you’ve not been able to stop thinking about me, I bet your pretty little hole is fucking begging to be filled by me.” He spat, unbuttoning and unzipping his trousers while he spoke. Despite how he protested and denied his own queerness, Evanthe looked eager - ready to suck on Corwin’s dick because he was exactly the whore the marine knew he was. Then, rather than allowing that to happen, Corwin took his dick in hand and let go, releasing himself all over the man below him. For a moment, Evanthe looked confused, then shocked, and then he settled into arousal, a tent quickly pitching in his trousers, leaning forward into the warm stream, eager to be marked.

“You’re a fucking animal, aren’t you? So needy to be marked. Owned.” Corwin said, and though his voice came out strong and harsh, he felt as if the words had hurt to get out, stuck momentarily in his throat and making his heart clench. Oh to own him. Evanthe only whined, unable or unwilling to speak, and Corwin didn’t have it in him to comment. He finished his business and tucked himself away, then for good measure leaned over slightly to spit down on the pirate, before turning and walking away to leave him in a puddle of piss.

He couldn’t get any more attached than he already was, and yet they seemed to be pulled together like opposite poles, drawn to each other again and again, their lives irrevocably changed by the other. Or maybe it was just Corwin that felt like that. Perhaps Evanthe didn’t wake up thinking of Corwin, he didn’t wonder what it would be like to wake up together, to share a meal, to terrorise each other through their days but still come together at the end of it to be just that, together. Was it truly so much to ask that Corwin might just once fall for someone who had the ability to love him in return, someone who would return his dedication and loyalty, someone who would give as well as take? In another life, maybe, he would get that chance. In another life he might find a lover willing to burn the world for him like he was willing to do for them, his other half who would complete and protect him as much as he would do for them. Not in this life, he supposed. No, in this life, he was doomed to suffer the same fate over and over, never learning his lesson. Fate was a cruel mistress, after all.

“Where’d you go doll?” Evanthe teased over the snail, and Corwin could picture the shit eating grin on his face. “Thinking about anyone but you.” Corwin snipped, and he was glad that he was always so short with Evanthe, otherwise he’d have been caught there. He knew he sounded different to usual, his hatred turned to a personal sort of venom. “I know you’re not. You can’t resist me. You’re probably imagining you were here right now, inside me instead of this replica, because nothing can compare to the real thing. I just can’t fuck myself the way you fuck me…” Evanthe teased, and Corwin growled, teeth elongating in his mouth as the fight began to contain himself. “Pathetic.” He slurred around his canines, still fighting to contain the beast inside him. He preferred to be at least somewhat civilised thank you. “Struggling to contain yourself, lieutenant?” Evanthe mocked, though a moan escaped him not a moment after. “Maybe I should stop, and next time I’ll fuck you with a dick almost twice the size of normal. Then nobody else will ever be able to fuck you like I can.”

He was avoiding Evanthe again, naturally. Of course, that also means that Evanthe has to show up where Corwin had docked to relax, and let him men recuperate. Which also meant he was alone when he was approached. “Lieutenant.” The smug bastard greeted, slinking up behind Corwin shamelessly, wrapping arms around the man’s larger body. “Get off,” Corwin demanded roughly, shoving the pirate away, “we’re in fucking public. Maniac.” He stepped away from the blonde and turned to face him, fire burning hot in his eyes. He had no reason to feel quite this angry, it wasn’t entirely fair. Though, when had Evanthe ever cared about fair? “Who got your panties in a twist?” The pirate teased with glee, taking a slow, mischievous step forward, closer to Corwin. “I’m seriously not in the mood today.” Corwin said, and he should’ve known that wouldn’t work as a refusal considering that was what their entire dynamic was built upon. “I’m sure I can.. Persuade you..”

Corwin had hit him before he’d realised what he was doing. Square in the jaw. “What the fuck!” Evanthe yelled, his playful temperament having disappeared. “I told you - I’m not in the mood.” Corwin replied, but instead of angry he just sounded resigned. “Oh, did your little girlfriend break up with you? Don’t take that shit out on me!” Evanthe replied, pulling himself back up to his feet, irate. He had been hit, and there was no real reason for it. “Don’t do this, Crisanto.” Corwin said, voice low, the threat clear. He clenched his teeth, closing his eyes for a moment to keep the monster crawling beneath his skin at bay. “Do I make you angry, lieutenant? Are you going to hit me again?” Evanthe taunted, and Corwin grunted, eyes opening to reveal something far more animal than man inside him. “Don’t.” He said again, and this time it was far closer to a beg. Please, do not do this. That was what his body wanted him to say, but he couldn’t allow himself. “Seas, you really are fucked up.” Evanthe said flippantly, raising his brows as he looked Corwin up and down, a truly judgemental look in his eye. Corwin opened his mouth to make space for his elongated canines, flexing his fingers as they slowly began to grow in size. 

The pair remained silent as Corwin finally caved and let the transformation overcome him, it was always easier when he welcomed the change. He sighed and tossed his ruined uniform aside, sitting down beside the bench he’d sat on before. Evanthe remained there, marvelling at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” Corwin said, unable to even tack on a comment about him looking pathetic. “Like what?” Evanthe asked, turning his nose up - literally - at the marine. “Like you want to worship me.” “I don’t.” “No. You don’t.” Corwin agreed, looking down at his large, dark palms in his lap. Evanthe didn’t want to worship him, it was true, and that was the entire issue.

“What? Nothing snarky or witty to say?” “Not this time.” His words were hollow. Empty rather than unfeeling. “Ew. I don’t like you like this.” Evanthe grumbled, and his feelings more than showed on his face. Corwin didn’t much like himself like this either.

“Just go.” Corwin told him, still not looking up. He couldn’t bear it. How could he have let this happen? Why did he always insist on getting himself hurt? “I’m not going to ask you what’s wrong.” Evanthe said. “I know.” “I don’t care what’s wrong.” “I know.” “I only even see you for the sex.” “I fucking know, Evanthe!” Corwin wasn’t sure he’d said the man’s name before now. “This is about me, isn’t it?” Evanthe ventured, and Corwin took a deep breath to calm himself, not wanting to lose his control any more than he already had. It wasn’t worth it. He didn’t want to kill the guy. “It is,” Evanthe said, gleeful all over again, “don’t tell me you’ve gone and gotten yourself all worked up over little old me? Could you truly not resist my endless charms, baby doll? I know I’m gorgeous, but I thought better of you.”

In a split second, Corwin was a man again, and naked as the day he was born. He took Evanthe by the neck and lifted him from the ground, eyes wide with fury. “Shut your mouth.” He hissed. “Did I hit a nerve?” Evanthe teased, and Corwin couldn’t resist it anymore. Instead of putting him down, instead of walking away, instead of using the handcuffs he’d thrown on the ground somewhere, he pulled the pirate close to his body and kissed him. 

They’d kissed countless times before, of course, in the throes of passion, but it was always so sexual. Not this kiss. This kiss burned with a different kind of need and passion, something that Corwin could never dream of expressing in words because seas forbid he expressed feelings. As long as his thoughts remained non-verbal, he could remain in denial outwardly.

He released Evanthe and let him fall the rest of the way to the ground, grabbing what he could salvage of his uniform for the sake of his modesty. “You really have, haven’t you?” Evanthe asked from where had fell to the ground, on his knees staring at Corwin. “Goodbye, Crisanto. Lose my number.” Corwin said, trying his jacket around his waist to cover his junk and hold up what remained of his trousers.

“Why? Afraid you’ll fall completely and irrevocably in love with me?” The pirate taunted, and Corwin didn’t feel the need to speak again, he simply turned back to face Evanthe for a long moment, eyes sad, face flat, and then continued his walk away, intending to return to the ship for a change of clothes.

“I miss you.” Evanthe whispered into the snail phone, needy and missing the arrangement he’d had with Corwin. He was sitting on the dildo he’d been gifted, and had been teasing himself for an hour, working up the courage to dial the number. “I told you to lose my number.” Corwin simply said, hating the way his dick hardened, reacting to Evanthe’s words. “I have it memorised, not so easy to lose.” “You won’t manipulate me, Crisanto. I know your games too well.” There was a pause.

“This is it? Really? You’re getting scared and running away? What happened to owning me?” “I don’t own you though, do I? No matter how many of your firsts I got, there will always be a woman in your bed whenever I’m not there. You aren’t mine, you never were, and you never will be. That’s not how you work. You can’t give your whole self to someone.” Corwin paused, his eldest brother’s words ringing clear in his ears. “I deserve someone who will give me all of them.”

“How pathetic.” Evanthe muttered, and Corwin just sighed. “Goodbye, Evanthe. I’m sure you can find another man to bend you over every surface he deems worthy. If you ever decide to admit you enjoy that sort of thing, that is.”

Ka-chick. Corwin ended the call.

Tags: @claryeverlarkf @uselessboots @cainnoable

[loganwritesprobably]

Marsh Linwood

TW: Slave treatment, abuse, sexual implications toward minor

The triggering content is marked before and after, so you can read around it

"ᴋɴᴏᴡʟᴇᴅɢᴇ ɪꜱ ᴛʜᴇ ᴋᴇʏ ᴛᴏ ꜰʀᴇᴇᴅᴏᴍ."

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ʙᴀꜱɪᴄ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ

ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Marsh Linwood

ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ: N/A

ᴀɢᴇ: 29

ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ: Cis male

ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ: He/him

ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Bisexual (male lean)

ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ: September 3rd

ᴢᴏᴅɪᴀᴄ ꜱɪɢɴ: Virgo

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ: 6'3"

ꜱᴋɪɴ ᴛᴏɴᴇ: Fair

ʜᴀɪʀ: Mousy brown

ᴇʏᴇꜱ: Green

ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ: Various scars on his body, all covered by his shirt

ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴍᴏᴅꜱ: N/A

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄��┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

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╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ʙᴀᴄᴋꜱᴛᴏʀʏ

Marsh grew up in a small village on a small island in the East Blue. He'd always had a love for learning, and was lucky enough to learn about Devil Fruits from an older man who lived on the outskirts of the town before he died. Everyone had believed the man was insane, that he was little more than a crazed old man telling fairy tales. His village had never seen a Devil Fruit, and so didn't believe in them. But Marsh believed.

His mother had died in birth, so for the first ten or so years of his life he was the son of a single father. Until his father died. When he died, there were marines on the island and one of them had found him crying in the small island graveyard. The marine had seemed kind, gentle even, and offered to take Marsh with them. The idea of leaving his closed minded town appealed, so he agreed. What a mistake he'd made.

TW: Slave treatment, abuse, sexual implications toward minor

"Scrub the floors, until your knees are black; clean these clothes by hand, until your hands are raw; make these beds perfectly, or you'll be strung up in the yard; clean my boots with your tongue.." Marsh paused then to breathe deeply and swallow, "you don't get to eat, you don't deserve it; I'll keep you awake all night, so you understand how hard my work is; I'll trade you to pirates to be their slave, they won't be as kind as me; maybe I'll give you to the new recruits, they've got far filthier minds than I have, I wonder what they'd come up with."

╰──── TW Over ────╯

The Marine that took Marsh in was a very cruel man, who'd treated him like dirt. The fact that he ever managed to get away was frankly a miracle.

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

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❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ᴄᴀʀᴇᴇʀ

Marsh isn't technically employed. His work is a passion project and he doesn't get paid for it, which does tend to make his life quite hard.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇꜱ

Marsh is very lucky in the sense that is hobby technically is his career. He does have other things that he enjoys, such as reading outside his research area and he's stronger than he looks, despite not being as active as one might expect. He enjoys jogging, it helps him to think, and he's surprisingly good in hand to hand combat.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ

☾ Milky coffee

☾ Reading

☾ Cheese

☾ Learning

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴅɪꜱʟɪᴋᴇꜱ

☽ Marines/WG

☽ Tea

☽ His father

☽ Alcohol

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴀꜱᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

Having grown up in a small town on a small island where people were so ignorant of the world around him, Marsh wants to bring knowledge. His biggest dream is to create a Devil Fruit encyclopaedia that isn't only available to the elites, and he wants it to be as detailed as possible, even if he has to risk his life to achieve it.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ꜰᴇᴀʀꜱ

Marsh doesn't particularly fear anything. He has his issues, sure, but fear? Not really for him.

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ

➼ Edmund Linwood

➼ Deceased

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ

➼ Clarise Linwood

➼ Deceased

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

"ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ"

➼ Chester Houghton

➼ Living

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

_ _

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

Marsh's physical health is generally good. He enjoys exercise, though he doesn't do it often. Though, he's sure there's likely to be lasting damage from his treatment by his marine 'father'.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

"The only thing that was guaranteed, was ale at the end of the night. A cigarette on a good day."

Marsh's mental health is.. fragile, perhaps is the best word to describe it. He lives because he wants to spite the man who took advantage of him for so many years, but he knows that he has issues that he should probably work harder to overcome. His relationship with alcohol and cigarettes is complicated.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ

Marsh's relationship with food is complicated, and he tends toward hoarding when he does have the money to buy food supplies. He eats in small portions, just in case - he wants to savour what he has and make sure he doesn't run out.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ

Marsh wishes his memory was worse. That he found it easier to forget. Though, it's what makes him such a good scholar.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ

Marsh is prone to sleeping poorly, after the way he was treated. He struggles to fall asleep, and then wakes up frequently in the night, though he's more than used to exhaustion.

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

[loganwritesprobably]

One Piece OC #1 - Crocodile's Mother

All the art I originally used for these characters, which is more true to them, was AI art that I found on pinterest and didn't initially realise was AI. I won't share those, but I'll add a picrew to try to get the vibe across

TW: Brief mentions of previous miscarriages + mentions of abuse by partner and to child (all under the cut)

Annalise Griffiths Crocodile

Cis female, she/her, straight Partner: Oliver Griffiths Child: Crocodile

Annalise was 66 when she died, standing at a massive ten feet and four inches tall, though her body was slender. Her father was Italian, with a Swedish mother, and they moved to a new island where she met her husband when Annalise was sixteen. Annalise was fluent in Italian, which she taught to her only son. She called him polpettino, translating to little meatball.

Crocodile wasn't the only child that she became pregnant with, but due to mistreatment by her husband, he was the only child that survived to term. Her little miracle, her rainbow baby.

Oliver began beating Annalise after a few years of being married, when she'd not managed to conceive yet and he was getting deeper into his family's criminal business. At first she defended it - he was stressed, and he was always so sorry. She lost a total of five babies before she gave birth to Crocodile, and the only reason he survived is because Oliver often disappeared for long periods of time for his work - and he was gone for the entirety of her pregnancy.

She hoped that he would stop after Crocodile was born, because now he had a child - a little girl, who looked so much like him - maybe this would be a turning point.

It wasn't.

Annalise spent the next sixteen years of her life taking beatings to prevent her child from sustaining them. But Crocodile was brilliant, and good to her, and so smart. She wasn't foolish enough to think he didn't know what was happening, he'd known for a long time.

While she'd been struggling for cash, Crocodile had been helping around the neighbourhood doing any jobs that needed doing. It was a town with an aging population, so often the jobs were manual labour, and he took anything he could get. Crocodile grew to tower over both his mother and father, and became quite muscular from years of work.

The last time Oliver came home, Crocodile was the one to answer the door, and he beat his father senseless. When Annalise came home, having been out baby sitting as she often was, she found her son on the living room floor, bleeding sluggishly from his wrist, where his hand used to be. She blamed herself for that until the day she died.

In order to earn money, both so she and Crocodile could survive and also so that she could give money to Oliver when he came home demanding it, Annalise worked as a baby sitter. There were a few young couples in their town, amongst the elderly, and Annalise babysat any child that needed to be babysat. It didn't pay amazingly, but it was enough until Crocodile turned thirteen and began helping.

One of the children she babysat was called Venus, and she was somewhat of a sister to Crocodile. They grew up together, with her just two years older than him, and when she stopped needing to be babysat at age fourteen, she continued to be a presence in Annalise and Crocodile's lives.

She was left in their little village alone after Crocodile left to become a pirate, but he'd done so with her blessing. Venus had left after marrying a shipwright - and Annalise had suspected that she was already pregnant. She died in that little village, hoping her son would make something of himself.

[loganwritesprobably]

𝙲𝚘𝚛𝚠𝚒𝚗 𝚂𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚏𝚘𝚛𝚍

In honour of me starting my Smoker/OC fic, here's the bio for Corwin

"ᴡᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴡʜᴏ ᴡᴇ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜʀꜱᴇʟᴠᴇꜱ."

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ʙᴀꜱɪᴄ ᴅᴇᴛᴀɪʟꜱ

ɴᴀᴍᴇ: Corwin Stanford ɴɪᴄᴋɴᴀᴍᴇꜱ: N/A ᴀɢᴇ: 35 ɢᴇɴᴅᴇʀ: Cis male ᴘʀᴏɴᴏᴜɴꜱ: He/him ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ: Gay ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ: December 29th ᴢᴏᴅɪᴀᴄ ꜱɪɢɴ: Capricorn

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʜᴇɪɢʜᴛ: 6'6" ꜱᴋɪɴ ᴛᴏɴᴇ: Fair ʜᴀɪʀ: Black ᴇʏᴇꜱ: Hazel ᴅᴇᴠɪʟ ꜰʀᴜɪᴛ: Saru Saru no Mi/Ape Ape fruit: Model Chimpanzee ꜱᴄᴀʀꜱ: N/A ʙᴏᴅʏ ᴍᴏᴅꜱ: Corwin has tattoos on both his arms, a tattoo for each of his siblings, they all have these matching, plus some others that he's gathered over the years.

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ʙᴀᴄᴋꜱᴛᴏʀʏ Corwin grew up in a family with severe parents and his siblings, all older than him, were expected to fall into line - and they did. Each of them was perfect, Corwin included. Perfect little soldiers to do their parents bidding. Every one of his siblings, and himself, became marines as adults. Though, despite being the youngest, Corwin has risen the furthest through the ranks.

•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛꜱ Corwin's biggest secret is this: he hates the marines, and the government. If he thought he could leave without losing his siblings, and ending up alone, he'd do it in a heartbeat.

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ᴄᴀʀᴇᴇʀ Corwin is a lieutenant in the marines. He worked hard to get to his position because it was all he knew how to do. He'd been taught from a young age that he'd always be a marine, taught exactly how to do so and trained, and taught how to work hard in order to keep progressing.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇꜱ Corwin isn't particularly someone who engages in hobbies - he's a busy guy, and he didn't have a lot of room for deciding what hobbies he enjoyed as a child. He does, however, enjoy reading. As a kid he'd not had much room to read fiction books, it was mostly non-fiction, but he'd occasionally managed a romance or fantasy novel and he reads them to this day.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ☾ Romance and fantasy books ☾ His siblings ☾ Green tea ☾ Sushi

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴅɪꜱʟɪᴋᴇꜱ ☽ Insubordianate behaviour ☽ Stupid people ☽ His parents

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴀꜱᴘɪʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ More than anything, Corwin wants to get to a place in his life where he finally feels like he can completely cut ties with his past and leave the marines. He doesn't know what that would involve - maybe finding his soulmate - but that's the goal, above all else.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ꜰᴇᴀʀꜱ Corwin has two fears.

The first is that he'll never manage to leave the marines, and instead be stuck in a job that he hates for the rest of his life. The other is that one day, he'll stop hating it, and have lost his morals.

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ

ꜰᴀᴛʜᴇʀ ➼ Julien Stanford ➼ Living, estranged

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴍᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ➼ Gabriella Stanford ➼ Living, estranged

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ➼ Harlan Stanford ➼ Living 46

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ➼ Aston Stanford ➼ Living 43

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ꜱɪꜱᴛᴇʀ ➼ Avery Stanford ➼ Living 40

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ʙʀᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ➼ Kelton Stanford ➼ Living 38

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

╭──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╮

ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ

ᴘʜʏꜱɪᴄᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ Corwin is the peak of physical health, as he was taught to be. He exercises regularly, and eats perfectly balanced meals. It wouldn't do for him to be anything other than perfect, because that could risk himself and his unit of men. Pirates can cause trouble at any time, and so you need to always be ready.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴍᴇɴᴛᴀʟ ʜᴇᴀʟᴛʜ Mentally, Corwin certainly isn't doing as well as he is physically. He struggles. Having the ability to call one of his siblings on the den den if he needs them is about the only thing that keeps him going sometimes.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅���⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ Corwin enjoys eating, and the cook they have onboard his ship cooks well so he has no complaints. He eats three meals per day, and often a smaller evening meal, since he doesn't sleep as much as he maybe should. He makes sure that the food is balanced, and the cook has those instructions particular for him.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ᴍᴇᴍᴏʀʏ Corwin's memory is upsettingly accurate sometimes. He can remember things that he doesn't want to, in particular about his childhood, and he wishes that he could forget it. However, he doesn't take particular interest in remembering the names of those who work for him.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

ꜱʟᴇᴇᴘɪɴɢ Corwin doesn't sleep as much as he potentially should. He often sleeps just five or six hours, waking up early and often going to bed late. He has no particular reason for it, it's just something that he's used to. A habit he can't seem to break.

╰──── ⋅𖥔⋅ ────╯

❀⊱┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄┄⊰❀

[loganwritesprobably]

I am so looking forward to working on this now

This is gonna be the good timeline for Corwin, where he got out of the marines early

[loganwritesprobably]

One Piece OC #3 - Mihawk's Mother

All the art I originally used for these characters, which is more true to them, was AI art that I found on pinterest and didn't initially realise was AI. I won't share those, but I'll add a picrew to try to get the vibe across

TW for character death, no gore or description

Dracule Viviana

Cis female, she/her, straight-ish Partner: Dracule Aureliano Child: Dracule Mihawk

Viviana died when Mihawk was still young, post time-skip she would've been 66. She stood at a reasonable five feet and seven inches. Viviana grew up speaking Romanian, but moved to a Spanish speaking island where she met her husband, and that's what Mihawk grew up speaking.

Unlike the Crocodile/Griffiths family, the Dracule family was happy. Viviana and Aureliano couldn't have been more in love, and their devotion was clear to anyone who could see them. They were considered to be a little unusual in their smaller village, but were well liked. It was hard not to like a young couple so caught up in each other, a sign that there was such a think as real love.

Then Mihawk came along, just when they thought they couldn't love any more than they already did, and he was their whole world. Viviana taught him to dance, because as much as she loved her husband he had two left feet. Not Mihawk. By the time he was twelve he was gliding around the floor with his mother, and they grinned the entire time.

Viviana died far younger than her husband, when Mihawk was about fourteen. Marines arrived in their village, and while out on her errands Viviana had foolishly greeted them. They'd killed her, because she was 'annoying' and 'in their way'. Aureliano was never quite the same after that, and her death was what led to Mihawk becoming the marine hunter he was known as before becoming the world's greatest swordsman.

[loganwritesprobably]

I won the battle

Here is my boy Marsh, as drawn by my sibling

I now owe them 'something witchy', which I call a fair trade

The picrew I'd been using just DID NOT do him any justice - he is NOT that happy

[loganwritesprobably]

One Piece OC #2 - Crocodile's Father

All the art I originally used for these characters, which is more true to them, was AI art that I found on pinterest and didn't initially realise was AI. I won't share those, but I'll add a picrew to try to get the vibe across

TW: Brief mentions of previous miscarriages + mentions of abuse by partner and to child + implied transphobia (all under the cut)

Oliver Griffiths

Cis male, he/him, straight Partner: Annalise Crocodile Child: Sir Crocodile

Oliver, Crocodile's father, is still alive at age 68. He stands at just seven feet and four inches, shorter than both his wife and son, which he makes up for in sheer size. His chest and shoulders are huge, and over the years he has amassed a large amount of muscle from his various jobs. Oliver is middle eastern, born and raised in Alabasta until his father died and his older brothers whisked him away elsewhere, where he met his wife.

Oliver was only ever kind to Annalise because it got him what he wanted. She was sweet and naïve and thought that he was a good man. When he began to beat her, he knew he'd done well up until that point because she never left, justifying his actions. He was not a good man, and he never would be. He engaged in crime from an early age, the family business, with his three older brothers. They sailed around, robbing, killing and gambling away their money, then he'd return to his wife for the money they needed to keep doing the same.

He'd wanted a son, someone to continue the family business with, but Annalise was utterly useless. She just couldn't get pregnant, and when she finally did the first time, he just knew it was a girl. Then again, and again. He couldn't allow that. He needed a strong son he could train the right way. Then he was gone for just a little too long, and came home to a daughter. Pathetic. He'd considered accusing Annalise of infidelity, but the kid looked just like him and nobody else in the small town looked like him, so it'd never work. So, he simply beat her harder.

He'd kill the kid, but then she'd really leave him. He tried again after that, but he supposed he must have beaten her too hard, because she never managed to get pregnant again. It was fine, his brothers had a few bastards they'd probably be able to recruit.

When the kid was sixteen, with delusions of who she was and who she could become, she attacked him. She only won because she'd caught him off guard, but he'd gotten her back. "I'm going to take this, when you're ready for a real fight, I'll be out there waiting." He'd told her as he'd walked away, leaving her bleeding on the ground. He didn't think she'd ever come to find him, so what did it matter? He never returned to the town, counting the both of them as a lost cause.

[loganwritesprobably]

About Me

Logan | 21 | he/him | GMT

AuDHD | Disabled | Queer

Writing | Musical Theatre | Fandom

Sideblog @loganchatsshit

AO3 | Fic Masterlist | Request Rules | WIPs | Recommendations

My Kofi

Fandoms

One Piece

Teen Wolf

That Time I Got Reincarnated As A Slime

Aphmau

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BBC Sherlock

Criminal Minds

Self ships list here

Important Tags

#loganchatsshit - my thoughts dumped on your dash

#loganwritesanswers - answering any asks

#loganwritesfanfics - a tag added to all posts of my own fics

#loganwritesficlets - a tag for all my ficlets (works less than 500 words ish)

#loganwritesheadcanons - all my headcanon posts

#loganwritesrequests - any fics I've written that were requests

#loganwritescharacters - character sheets for fandom characters

#loganwritesocs - stuff about my OCs

#loganrewrites - all posts about rewrites of various fandoms

#loganwriteshales - all my posts about my original Hale family

[loganwritesprobably]

Uh ello

I don't have an about me post.. huh Well, here's that!

About Me

Name: Logan Pronouns: He/him Age: 21 Birthday: 18/03 Zodiac: Pisces Autism/ADHD Disabled

This is NOT a SFW blog!

Fanfic Masterlist Post

Fic Requests are open!

Fandoms

One Piece

Teen Wolf

Aphmau

Starkid

Gotham

MCU

BBC Sherlock

Criminal Minds

Interests

Writing

Acting/musical theatre

Editing (sometimes)

Roleplay

Video games (easy ones)

Important Tags

#loganwritesfanfics - a tag added to all posts of my own fics #loganwritesheadcanons - all my headcanon posts #loganwritescharacters - character sheets for fandom characters #loganrewrites - all posts about rewrites of various fandoms #loganwriteshales - all my posts about my original Hale family #loganchatsshit - my thoughts dumped on your dash #loganwritesocs - stuff about my OCs

No DNIs, but know I'm incredibly liberal with the block button, but also very tolerant (insert shrug emoji here, I'm on desktop)

[loganwritesprobably]

This is Crocodile's honorary sister Venus!

She's so totally awesome, and annoys the shit out of her little brother! Though, they've not spoken in years, as a result of various happenings in the world around them

And this is his nephew Janus, who wears one of Crocodile's oldest jackets that he gave to Venus before he left home as a pirate, and she kept for all these years, though she had to make it a whole lot smaller for her son

He's also Crocodile's godson - not that Crocodile is aware of that..

They don't have enough specific lore for their own post, they don't even have a surname, so I'm adding them onto the end here

One Piece OC #1 - Crocodile's Mother

All the art I originally used for these characters, which is more true to them, was AI art that I found on pinterest and didn't initially realise was AI. I won't share those, but I'll add a picrew to try to get the vibe across

TW: Brief mentions of previous miscarriages + mentions of abuse by partner and to child (all under the cut)

Annalise Griffiths Crocodile

Cis female, she/her, straight Partner: Oliver Griffiths Child: Crocodile

Annalise was 66 when she died, standing at a massive ten feet and four inches tall, though her body was slender. Her father was Italian, with a Swedish mother, and they moved to a new island where she met her husband when Annalise was sixteen. Annalise was fluent in Italian, which she taught to her only son. She called him polpettino, translating to little meatball.

Crocodile wasn't the only child that she became pregnant with, but due to mistreatment by her husband, he was the only child that survived to term. Her little miracle, her rainbow baby.

Oliver began beating Annalise after a few years of being married, when she'd not managed to conceive yet and he was getting deeper into his family's criminal business. At first she defended it - he was stressed, and he was always so sorry. She lost a total of five babies before she gave birth to Crocodile, and the only reason he survived is because Oliver often disappeared for long periods of time for his work - and he was gone for the entirety of her pregnancy.

She hoped that he would stop after Crocodile was born, because now he had a child - a little girl, who looked so much like him - maybe this would be a turning point.

It wasn't.

Annalise spent the next sixteen years of her life taking beatings to prevent her child from sustaining them. But Crocodile was brilliant, and good to her, and so smart. She wasn't foolish enough to think he didn't know what was happening, he'd known for a long time.

While she'd been struggling for cash, Crocodile had been helping around the neighbourhood doing any jobs that needed doing. It was a town with an aging population, so often the jobs were manual labour, and he took anything he could get. Crocodile grew to tower over both his mother and father, and became quite muscular from years of work.

The last time Oliver came home, Crocodile was the one to answer the door, and he beat his father senseless. When Annalise came home, having been out baby sitting as she often was, she found her son on the living room floor, bleeding sluggishly from his wrist, where his hand used to be. She blamed herself for that until the day she died.

In order to earn money, both so she and Crocodile could survive and also so that she could give money to Oliver when he came home demanding it, Annalise worked as a baby sitter. There were a few young couples in their town, amongst the elderly, and Annalise babysat any child that needed to be babysat. It didn't pay amazingly, but it was enough until Crocodile turned thirteen and began helping.

One of the children she babysat was called Venus, and she was somewhat of a sister to Crocodile. They grew up together, with her just two years older than him, and when she stopped needing to be babysat at age fourteen, she continued to be a presence in Annalise and Crocodile's lives.

She was left in their little village alone after Crocodile left to become a pirate, but he'd done so with her blessing. Venus had left after marrying a shipwright - and Annalise had suspected that she was already pregnant. She died in that little village, hoping her son would make something of himself.