#Urchin writes

[renegadeknucks]

The Burden I Bear | Knuxadow

If there's one thing that'll make you feel bad, its finding something small to push you over the edge when your day has already been rough. Knuckles finds a crack in the Master Emerald during a thunderstorm.

wrote this a couple months back, forgot I never posted it!

[crayonurchin]

The First Two Weeks

She was afraid.

She’d been afraid her entire life.

Over salty docks and down dirty streets she ran, dropped to all fours without a care who saw her. She could hear the various gasps and shrieks of humans unfortunate to be out this late, but she didn’t care.

Behind her was a prison.

And she needed to run.

Now.

___

She was cold.

She’d only ever been cold as punishment.

It was called rain. She’d learned that by listening to grumpy pedestrians whilst hidden in the shadows. Rain happened a lot on the surface. That was something else she’d learned. The prison had been underground, so the closest they ever got was a few dripping stalactites. 

Master let those stalactites drip onto her sometimes. He’d chain her in place, just enough room to stand up, and leave for… however long he felt she deserved.

The constant, freezing cold drip. 

Drip.

Drip.

It didn’t matter that her fur was thick, it always seeped to the skin eventually, and that’s when it started to make her bones ache. Relentless and agonising, nothing but the steady bullet fire of frozen water.

She was cold up here. So incredibly cold. It felt like her fur had never dried before the rain fell once again.

But she was free to move. Move around in the rain, out of the rain, into the rain. No chain could hold her down this time.

Dancing about in her hidden alleyway, she couldn’t help but laugh, marvelling in the music of the storm.

___

She hurt.

She constantly hurt.

These wounds were new. From an angry woman with a big knife. Her dialect was new to her, so she couldn’t understand why the woman was so furious, but the blade in her shoulder told her more than enough. She’d scrambled away, dropping the foraged scraps she’d taken from the womans’ bins and rushing into the night.

It throbbed. A dull, constant pulse of pain, radiating outwards and throughout her torso and bicep. But she knew it wasn’t bad. A bad wound would make it hard to breathe, stop other parts of her from moving, cloud her thoughts until she went deaf.

Sure, this hurt.

But it was nothing compared to the prison.

The pit was her second home. A dusty, iron scented hole where beasts and men and creatures were tossed to earn their right to live. Cheering faces screamed for the monster they’d bet on, hungry for money and bloodshed.

Every injury ever inflicted upon her was doubled by the killing blows she was famous for. Throats torn open with her teeth, intestines ripped out and used to strangle the owner to death, limbs slowly, cruelly torn off and tossed into a frothing crowd. 

She herself had her bones shattered, ears ripped, teeth broken and skin shredded time and time again in the pits. Infection and agony were cousins by now. But she still fought. Fought until her vision went black and then a little bit more.

Because a bear or barbarian was nothing compared to the pain her master would inflict if she lost.

Five nights later she’d timidly gone back to the womans’ bins- hoping to be unseen this time. Curiously, atop the metal lid was a small piece of red, chequered fabric, wrapped up like a parcel.

She was too enraptured by the cheese and meat inside to notice the woman peering from the curtains, eyebrows knitted in guilt as her eyes wandered to the red, angry wound in the girls shoulder.

__

She was hungry.

She got so anxious when she was hungry.

It’s so hard to curl into yourself when it feels like the pit inside you won’t stop pulling you in. You’re held in place by traitorous bone and flesh, all the while the sinkhole insists you curl up even tighter.

At some point she’d found a blanket. She couldn’t remember when. It was all that hid how she looked from the rest of the world. Nobody liked how she looked. They called her a monster, a beast, a fiend. They were probably right. But that didn’t stop her from sitting under her blanket at the edge of the markets, paws held out, desperately hoping someone would take pity.

Nobody had.

The sky was a beautiful thing and the air was sweet and moving, animals and insects walked freely and all this wonder seemed never ending. But she couldn’t enjoy it. Not when she was so hungry she wanted to cry. It hurt so much, in every fibre of her being, doubling over with each pang.

It probably sounded like she was sick from her audible panting. She might be for all she knew. But she’d just learned that when it got this bad, to breathe through her mouth. If she breathed through her nose, she’d smell the food in the market. The mere of it thought made saliva drip from her fangs.

Shaking her head, she dared a peek out at the passing feet. They all seemed to speed up when they got near her. Who could blame them? At least they weren’t actively doing this to make her mad.

From behind cell bars, she shook weakly. Four days. Four long days, inside her box, with water given once when she woke and once before she slept. The last time they came, she’d lunged, smelling flesh and seeing red, but as always the chain held her back. She hadn’t cared. She’d pulled at her restraint until she couldn’t breathe, reaching forward with claws bared, eyes dilated for want. Water in a cup, set on the floor, slid towards her. And then she was alone in her feral ravenousness. 

When the fifth day came, so did her master. She knew him by his scent. It was intoxicating. Her breathing, ragged, shuddering, desperate. Through the mouth, not the nose. It’s too painful through the nose.

He’d quietly undone her chain, placed the golden one around her neck, and led her to the ring. She never lunged, never ran, never fought. Every single step was a twist in her stomach, an itch under her teeth. When at last they reached those familiar doors, he reached up and ran a hand down her spine. He wanted it to protrude for fights like this. He wanted her to be an animal.

“You know your prize for winning, Mauler.”

She did.

She didn’t even look at her opponent before going for the throat.

When she woke up, the market was done, and night had fallen. Her hands remained as empty as her stomach, which only reminded her of the day count.

It made her anxious.

The surface had more than anything underground ever had- but getting it wasn’t always easy. At least- god, she hated admitting this part, but at LEAST in her cage, she knew the rules. You starved before a fight if the crowd wanted a beast. And if you won, you got rewarded. 

Stumbling back to the dark hidden corner of the alleyway, the memory of her ‘rewards’ made her swallow thickly, one hand gripping her midsection, the other on the wall for support.

She was getting to the clouded part. The period when hunger and food was all she could think about. It was so hard to ignore, like her entire body was infected with desire and stinging, aching need. She tried to focus on external distractions; on sounds, on sight, on smells-

The smell of meat was nearby.

Without thinking, she followed, the blanket fluttering behind her as she dropped low, walking on all fours, following the scent with a feverish focus. She was passing windows and doorways without a second thought of who could see her- none of that mattered. All that mattered was the scent. Follow the scent. Go for the kill. Go for the kill. Go for the kill go for the kill goforthekillgoforthekillgoforthek-

The kill was two tiefling boys. She’d learned they were called tieflings. One red. One purple. Both young, but in different ways. The red one was the tall kind of young, the purple the tiny kind of young. Red was holding Purple in his arm protectively, a cloth bag hanging from his shoulder.

That bag smelt more heavenly than all the milk and honey in Edan. 

It would be so easy to take. So unbelievably easy. These boys were small, weak and frail. Even now, after the starvation and beatings, she was strong. Stronger than anyone else in this town- where all the people were small and wiry and furless. It would be effortless. She could finally eat.

But she did not do that.

Not when she had a job to do.

The boys attacker was the young kind of old- when you’re done growing on the outside but not on the inside. He had them backed against the wall, twirling a blade with expert fingers, smirking down as the children could only cower.

“No sir- no I swear it’s the truth we don’t-”

“Ohhh and I so wanted this to go well. But you know what I say to people who don’t pay up? I say you need a hand-”

He yanked Red’s arm, gripping his wrist tightly and lifting him off the ground. Red screamed, kicking and flailing, still clutching Purple tight. Purple was frozen, mouth set in a line of terror, gripping his brother in a vice. The man grinned, lifting his knife up high, ready to swoop down and lop off Red’s hand.

Red dropped to the ground with a thud, enough to startle Purple out of fright and into the best flight a child can do- crying. Pushing himself up, Red glanced to see what had made the man change his mind.

The man was flat on the ground, a gurgling sound being pressed from his throat as she pinned him down with all her weight. The gold in her eyes was a sickly yellow in the moonlight, staring directly down at him, her fangs bared in a deep, dark snarl as saliva dripped onto his terrified face.

His mouth opened and closed as if to speak, but nothing came out. Her heckles rose as she watched his tongue flap uselessly. Such tender, succulent flesh. Nostrils flaring, she rose up, gums showing as her mouth opened wide and she struck.

A loud, monstrous roar left her chest, claws slamming down into the dirt besides his ears, every muscle tensed and screaming to pounce. The man screamed, cowering and holding up his tiny, puny hands as if that would do anything to save him. When she finished, she stepped back, and the man took no time in standing up and running. He fell twice and it looked as if he’d need new trousers, but within a few seconds, he was gone.

As soon as he was gone, her entire body deflated. Her fur settled, eyes softened and posture shrunk with sudden exhaustion. She ran her hands over her face, trying to push away the tiredness that was begging her to sleep, taking a long inhale through her nose.

The scent of meat.

Purple was still crying, and Red looked ready to faint dead away. They remained on the ground, backs to the wall, scarcely daring to breathe as they watched the monster who’d apparently appeared from the shadows themselves. The bag remained on Red’s shoulder.

It would be so, so easy to take. 

She was so, so hungry.

It made her so, so anxious.

As if he could read her mind, Red scrambled with the bag and held it out to her with a trembling hand. 

The hand that the man had threatened to cut off.

She wasn’t good at it yet, but she tried to smile gently, shaking her head no, and walking back to her spot for the night, leaving two extremely confused boys behind her.

Sure. She could take it, if she wanted. Because she was big and strong and scary. Those boys were not big and strong and scary. They weren’t as lucky as she was.

The rules on the surface were not clear, but one thing was. No matter how bad it got, she had a choice this time, and a chance to do better.

Even though the writhing hunger pains kept her awake for hours, she wasn’t as anxious this time.

___

She was lonely.

She’d not realised how lonely she’d always been.

Not until she’d watched the real world. 

Mothers and fathers held their children, friends ran and laughed, lovers held hands and strangers were kind to one another.

There was a new ache now, one that somehow hurt more than injury, sickness and starvation.

Longing.

And she missed the bliss of not knowing what longing was.

Sat in the shadows between buildings, tending to a cut on her leg that wouldn’t heal, making the remains of scavenged bones last as long as she could, there wasn’t much else to do but watch the world. 

A bird flew overhead and into a nest of squawking baby chicks, feeding them in that strange bird way. Even the animals had something to love.

Her master loved the money she could make. She was his Mauler. His golden ticket to fame, glory and status. But he didn’t love her. She had no disillusion of that. And she didn’t want his love. 

But love was still something she craved, and realistically, wouldn’t get.

There were tears on her cheeks but no sound. She’d been taught early on that crying was not acceptable for monsters. And she was the best monster in the ring.

…

But the ring was underground. And she was above ground.

Looking from side to side, she took a breath, and tried to cry with sound.

It sounded strange. A hushed, meek tone, more like a sigh. But one led to another. And another. Small little sighs and whimpers, all pressed into her paws as tears flowed like the rain still damp deep within her fur.

And she cried for an entire hour, without anyone but herself to listen.

When she was done, her head was throbbing, her eyes stung and there was a brand new exhaustion on top of all the other exhaustions. She hugged herself tight, breathing steady and deep. 

“I love you.”

“I love you so, so much.”

“I’m here.”

The monster known as Mauler sat in the dark, wasting and withering, smiling a toothy smile as she felt that longing grow smooth around its edges.

“Mauler is dead. I am… Molly.”

Molly said.

[padawansuggest]

Luke: *can see force signatures, looks between Grogu and Din who’s wearing non-Beskar coverings rn* Huh. I can see the resemblance between you two.

Grogu: Patu! ‘Thank you! Father and I have bonded very well to combine our force signatures and become a family. It was a tough bonding but it is Beskar strong.’

Din: …you… uh… are you fuckin with me?

Luke: No no, I’m serious, the resemblance is there, I can see it.

Din: …what the fuck…

[launa-moe-art]

can't wait to meet these two in Inkopolis Plaza :D

[detective-and-dreamer]

I did once see someone theorize that people who have died before have a harder time having kids, thus the seemingly low birth rate in FL, but who knows?

[thedarkcircuswritings]

request - street urchin cookie finds (& informally adopts/steals?) a child. that's it, that's the whole fic.

in other terms ; Street Urchin Cookie x child!nonbinary!reader (platonic, obviously!)

"Oi! Got someplace to go?" It all started one rainy night in the back alleys of the Town Square where Street Urchin had found you, all alone and wet, shivering from the cold. 'Course, this couldn't do, couldn't witness a child getting all soggy, so she made you hop onto her bike with her and she brought you back to her hideout with her other minions. She's tough with you at first, considering you're still a stranger and all that, but once she learns that you seriously have no home, no family, no nothing, she starts to feel a bit of sympathy for you. So, she recruits you as part of the gang, saying it's a way to repay back the debt for her letting you stick around. Overtime, you'll be her number-one squirt, more like a little sibling to her. Whoever messes with you messes with HER, and ain't nobody gonna take you away from her! You're all she has left of good memories of Town Square... And it's fitting that you'll help her take it down then.

[the-bar-sinister]

A Song for Ragpickers and Urchins (19168 words) by VickytheSnake, Dave Strider Chapters: 5/?

Summary: When a small-time band of young rogues and thieves take in a lost and lonely fallen noble their twisted star finally begins to rise. Urchins, vagabonds and slaves take up a scoundrel's life under a common banner— the jolly roger Donquixote— to claw their way to something like happiness in the miserable, cold-hearted factory towns of the North Blue.

catch up here

-

His father's empty apology rang hollow in Doflamingo's ears. He was sorry. He was sorry they had a father like him? He was sorry?

Doffy was the sorry one. Sorry he hadn't known what to do to protect himself and his brother sooner. Sorry he hadn't been able to save his mother. Sorry he'd had to feed Rosi filth because his father couldn't find a way to feed his children.

Rosi was still clutching at their father as Doffy aimed the gun at his head. 

His fingers were shaking. He'd never fired a gun before. He'd seen it done, in Mary Geoise. He'd seen death and justice come from the barrel. A swell of fear rose up in his belly like bile, along with his hatred. He had to do it now, before he lost his nerve. Before he let everyone down. Before he became a failure and a coward.

Trebol had told him he was a god, and Doffy needed to act like one.

He waved his hand and silvery threads pulled Rosi away– he didn't want to hit him.

He held the jumping, shaking gun and he pulled the trigger.

Hot blood covered Doffy's face, and he felt cold and empty.

That felt better than the gnawing anguished fear that had come before. He felt— not good, but satisfied. In control. Like he had been able to actually do something for once.

Then Rosi started screaming.

-

Vergo found Doffy, blood covered, stumbling down the road with a lantern in one hand. His handsome face was twisted with a mixture of what seemed to be fear and anger. He was limping and there was quite a lot of blood on one of his legs.

“Doffy!!” Vergo hurried forward to loop his arm around his shoulder to take the weight off his leg. “What happened? Y’alright?” 

Doffy winced as he rested his weight on Vergo's shoulders. 

"Rosi ran off. I- I was cutting fa– I was cutting the head off and he took off. I ran after him, but I slipped on a rock. I don't know where he went!"

Vergo looked out into the brush with a low hiss of breath. “...shit…he could have gone anywhere.” 

"Will you help me look for him?" Doffy asked plaintively.

Even people like them could get in trouble running around the woods at night. Kids at the orphanage had— Vergo thought he had better get Trebol and the others for this.

“Yeah, I’ll help” he said breathlessly. “But we gotta get the gang first. Trebol…Diamante…Pica they’ll help you too.” 

-

Diamante didn't like that Trebol had insisted on just giving Doffy the precious devil fruit. But he found he had trouble complaining, because Trebol was right. There was something kingly– no, something entirely unearthly– about Doflamingo. Beaten and starved and wounded, his grace and poise were unmatched and fierce and every time Diamante looked at him he felt like he'd rather be on the boy's side than against him.

He had rendered a hundred people unconscious with a thought. With his will. Without a devil fruit power. Diamante was not nearly as superstitious as Trebol but even he had to be impressed. Even he had to feel like that meant something. Maybe the boy really was destined for greatness.

Maybe that was why he forgave him when he and Vergo came back in a twist that same night, waking him out of the dead sleep of a catnap. Maybe that was why he let himself get caught up with it all, out in the dark with thieves lanterns, hunting for Doffy's brother who had gone haring off somewhere.

They never found him.

Not in hours of searching. Not in the woods. Thankfully, not in the town. They all knew they'd know if the townies had found the kid. None of them had forgotten about the mob.

The first grey fingers of dawn were peeking over the sea when Doffy finally burned through the last reserves of his fearsome energy, and Dia watched Trebol carry him into the shack, muttering promises that they'd keep searching when it was light, and they'd gotten some rest.

Dia got the feeling that they wouldn't see the kid's brother again, though. He figured if he wanted to be found, he would be.

Diamante sat outside the shack and lit a cigarette. He offered one over to Vergo, who was outside too. Darger was still fiercely tracking back and forth across the treeline– stubborn as ever.

Vergo took the cigarette without hesitation. It’d been one of the first vices he’d picked up, right next to the hunger for knowledge and violence. He lit up with a frown and took a long drag.

“...I should have gone in with him.”

"Gone with him?" Dia's brow furrowed. "I thought you did go with him. You lose track again?"

Vergo was smart. Dia knew he was smart because Trebol was teaching him to read, and more. His thoughts just got a little lost sometimes. Had to be redirected.

Vergo shook his head.

“No…no… all the way, to where he went to kill his old man.” He put the cigarette to his lips and took a long pull, eyes unreadable behind his glasses. “He wanted to do it alone… but I promised I’d be there waiting but I still somehow missed his brother.” 

Dia sucked on his own cigarette and shook his head. "And? So his brother took off in the other direction. Not something you could prevent you know. Besides…"

Vergo huffed quietly. “I could if my observation haki was better…besides what?” 

"I like Doffy," Diamante said, blowing a long stream of smoke out from his pursed lips. "And he seems to like us, yeah? He seems a lot like us. But I didn't exactly get that same feeling from his brother."

The night they'd pulled Doffy and his family down off the wall, the kid brother had seemed as afraid of them as he was of everything else. Not like Doffy at all.

“He was jittery.” Vergo’s eyes closed behind his glasses. “...he acted like we were monsters or somethin’.”

"Like a rabbit," Dia nodded. "So I ain't exactly surprised that he went haring off at the first sign of something hard. No constitution for it. Not like us."

“Not like us,” Vergo agreed with a nod. “and not like Doffy. He saw how hard that was gonna be and he did it anyway.”

"Damn right." The more Dia thought about it, the more he suspected that Trebol was right, on some level. "Probably gonna be a great man someday. And I'm sure he'd love to protect his brother. But there are some people you can't always protect."

“I wouldn’t know…you guys are the closest thing to anything I’ve ever had.” Vergo took a long pull off the cigarette. 

He sighed. "Yeah, me too, Corazon." 

Dia chuckled ruefully and shook his head. It sure wasn't what he pictured when he'd set out on his own.

“I’ll make sure I can always protect you guys, okay?” the young boy murmured around his cigarette.

"We take care of each other," Dia nodded. "That's the whole point, right?"

“That’s what a gang is…yeah?” Virgo looked up at him as if he legitimately forgot the definition. 

He put his arm around the kid's shoulders. "Yeah, that's what a gang is. Least that's what this gang is."

Vergo grinned widely with a nod “No matter what. Think Doffy’s gonna join us?” 

Dia glanced at the door. "I donno. Guess we're gonna find out."

-

Trebol dampened the cloth in the basin and wrung it out again before laying it once more gently over the forehead of the fitfully sleeping boy. Doffy's face was twisted with pain and sorrow even as he slept. 

He had used up every ounce of his fire and energy, and then some, blazing through the night trying to find his brother. And that was after he'd already killed his father. It was after a long and surely miserable day of hiding in the woods. Chronically starved. Still severely injured.

It was some kind of miracle that had kept the boy going like that. Truly, it could only be explained by the fury of a destined king– a god.

A poor, little lost god thrown out of heaven. A god who knew suffering like a man knew suffering. But still one who refused to bow.

How could Trebol not admire him? How could he not want to worship at his feet?

If Trebol had had half the regal fire in him that Doffy had at his age, he would never have been a slave so long. Never have had to cringe and cower and wait for his opportunity. He would have made one.

He imagined all the opportunities that Doffy could make, if he had someone to guide him. To show him his strength and opportunity. Doffy hadn't hesitated for one moment when Trebol had suggested he kill his father. He had simply done what needed to be done.

Trebol stroked his fingers over the sleeping boy's cheek as exhaustion started to overtake him too. It would be wonderful, a miracle, if Doffy could stay with them. But one couldn't ask a god to turn away from heaven. Trebol wasn't stupid. If there was a paradise waiting for him, he wouldn't linger on the filthy earth either.

-

Doffy didn't join them. Not right then, anyway. He stayed a few days with them, hoping for his brother to come back. But after it became clear it was hopeless? 

Doffy had already killed his father, and he said he wasn't' going to let that be for nothing. He'd go to Mary Geoise with the head and deliver the Celestial Dragons' justice. Regain his rightful place. He'd force a ship bearing celestial tribute to take him there.

He told him he'd be back– to find his brother, and to thank them.

 "I don't forget my friends."

Trebol of course had lavished him with praise over it, and he wasn't the only one. Pica had been difficult to disengage from the lingering hug, and Diamante had seen the way that Vergo looked at him.

Even Diamante had to admit that he didn't like saying goodbye. There was just something compelling about Doffy. Something that made you want to be near him.

Diamante hated to admit it but the longer the kid was gone, the more that Diamante missed him. It was ridiculous. He'd known him for what? A week?

But there was something unfinished between them. Like Trebol had said— a red string of fate.

Diamante wondered if Doffy had made it to the sacred land alright. He wondered if they would ever hear from him again. He knew that Trebol was delaying their departure from the island— moving from city to city and town to town instead— in the hope that Doffy or his messenger from heaven would be able to find them.

Diamante couldn't complain. He was hoping for that, too.

-

Unlike his trip from the North Blue to the Sacred Land— which had, thanks to his power impressing on the captain that he really was a Celestial Dragon, been a comfortable one as an honored guest— when Doffy fled Mary Geoise his trip began as a stow away. There had been no other option.

Only his haki and his devil fruit powers had allowed him to survive his flight from Mary Geoise. The blood drops along his strings, the way the guards fell to his waves of haki– he'd always remember those things. And every use of his powers sharpened them. He'd hidden on one of the huge tribute ships leaving the sacred land, and fled that ship too as soon as it had made landfall..

Running through the alleyways of the unfamiliar island he found himself on, Doflamingo knocked out some men, and stole the coin in their pockets. He spent it on a nervous meal, and passage on a merchant ship back to the North Blue.

There was nowhere else for him to go.

Doflamingo had stayed with Trebol, Diamante, Pica and Corazon for three days while they looked for his brother. Searching and waiting and hoping for his return. Even sick with worry for Rosi, those three days had been the happiest he remembered since being pulled from Mary Geoise. It wasn't only the good food, and the comfortable bed, and care for his wounds, though all of those would still have been enough to make it so.

It was the way they treated him; enjoyed his company, praised him, seemed to actually like having him around. After so long being told that everything he did was wrong– when he stole food for Rosi it was 'wrong to steal', when he tried to defend them it was 'wrong to hurt others'-- it was a sharp relief to feel understood. To feel accepted.

Bold, flamboyant Diamante talked to him like an adult and had shown him a better way to hold a knife. Friendly, forthright Corazon had shared his cigarettes– though Doffy quickly learned he didn't like the way too much made his head spin– and talked with him all the time. Quiet, determined Pica never stopped looking for Doffy's brother. And soft, crafty Trebol lavished him with attention and praise,listening to all his thoughts and troubles and giving his advice while brushing his hair, taking care of his wounds, even bathing him.

If Doffy could never go home– if he had lost everything, miserable, and cast out— he wanted to go back to that. He wanted to go back to them, where he was loved and accepted and treated like a person, instead of like a demon or a naughty child.

It was all he wanted, and the thought that he could have it— the hope that they would still be there when he arrived— was the first thing that sustained him from despair on his lonely voyage.

The second thing was his burning, ceaseless rage.

-

When Doflamingo returned it was in almost as shabby a state as Vergo had seen him depart. It certainly suited the place of their meeting. They were still on Downs, and operating for the moment out of a ramshackle series of rooms in the bad district, where Trebol was running a supposed 'scrivener's service' as front for their activities. 

Vergo had started coming into his own, he’d started to nail down the ability to read— he didn’t even forget it during his lapses in memory. He learned the art of blending in, of getting information without being noticed, and used it to further their criminal activities.

Theft. Ransom. The occasional bone-breaking violence. It was all part of their trade as they waited. It wasn’t the greatest place they had ever lived, but Vergo would have refused to leave even if he was asked.

He had to wait on a sign from the ‘holy land’ of Mary Jane, or whatever it was called. The home of the Celestial Dragons where Doffy had vanished to. He had to know he was at least alright, even if he wasn’t ever coming to the gang again.

He’d almost given up hope when he felt a sudden rush of it well up inside. 

It must have been his haki that told him– Vergo had just known to come outside. He'd urged the others to follow, and sure enough, there was Doffy, looking exhausted and windswept on their doorstep.

“...Doffy,” Vergo said, pushing up his glasses to make sure he was seeing it right. “You’re back.” 

Miserable and begraggled as he was, he still didn't look as bad as he had the last time they had seen one another. His wounds were healed; there were no more bandages. He was in a shirt and pants that were dirty and roughly worn but not torn to shreds. But, aside from the expression on his face, nothing about him looked like one of the rulers of the world.

He tilted his head up toward Vergo and the others.

"They tried to kill me." There was anger and resentment thick in his voice. "I brought them the head of my father, and they turned me away. They laughed at me."

Vergo felt a sick turn in his stomach as he frowned. “...they didn’t accept you, Doffy? Even after all that?”

He’d heard… some… about the way the Celestial Dragons had separated themselves from the ‘rabble’ of the world. Could it have been that they saw Doffy that way too? Rabble, to be discarded even after he did so much to be one of them again. 

"Even though you brought them your father's head?" Dia growled from behind him, as incredulous as Vergo.

"And they tried to kill you?" Trebol stepped forward. "It's a miracle that you're still alive."

"I don't know if I'd call it a miracle," Doffy said, taking a step toward them. "If it wasn't for my power– and the power that you gave me– I would have died. There were so many of them…"

"But you didn't die," Pica said quietly.

Vergo clasped his hand near his heart with a firm nod. “You survived. You fought back against the people everyone says are gods and you survived. I’m glad, Doffy. We were worried about you.”

"Terribly, terribly worried," Trebol murmured, putting a hand on Doffy's shoulder. "We were waiting to hear from you. We had no idea that it would be so dire."

"It looks like nobody wants me," Doflamingo's voice was cold and hard as he shrugged. "Not the Celestial Dragons. Not the people here. Not my brother."

Vergo hesitated only a moment before stepping forward. “...we’d like you, Doffy. Before you left , I’d hoped that you would stay.” 

Pica stepped forward too. "We all hoped."

Even Diamante stepped forward too. "It's true. You have something great in you, Doffy. Like the bearing of a king. If nobody else can see it, we can."

"Guys," Doflamingo murmured.He rubbed his cheek under his good eye. "Do you really mean that?"

Trebol squeezed his shoulder. "Of course, of course we mean it, Doffy. Hey, hey, stay with us, we'll support you! Help you become the great man you could be."

Doffy looked around at all of them through the dark lensed glasses. Even without seeing his eyes, Vergo understood his expression.

Vergo gave him his smile, reaching out his hand to him like he had months ago, this time without the armament in the way. “A gang looks out for one another, like a family. Heh…you’re gonna be a great man? Then we all wanna help you get there. I know I do.” 

Doffy took his hand, and a moment later, they all put their hands together. 

Years later it was easy to look back on that moment as if swearing fealty to a king– though Doflamingo's true kingship wouldn't come until much later. But there was a feeling in the air at that moment, and Vergo was sure the others had felt it too. Something had changed. Something important.

-

Doffy let them bring him into what Trebol called 'the offices', all fussing over him and asking about his journey. He was nervous to talk about it at first, but Diamante's (and the rest's!) excitement to hear him recount the bloodbath and escape in Mary Geoise pushed through his humiliation. For the first time since it had happened, he felt like a hero, a champion, instead of a coward and a fool on the run.

Diamante– Dia, they all called him, and Doffy was starting to think of him that way too— draped his coat over Doffy's shoulders and set him down at the table, fetching him something to eat and crowing about his success in escaping the sacred land.

"What can I say, Tre," Dia said, popping a bottle of wine and pouring it into thick metal cups. "You were right. Doffy's destined for greatness. How many of them did you say it was, again?"

"At least a dozen," Doffy repeated in all seriousness, taking the cup he was offered and taking a long drink. "A dozen guards in armor. They were ordered to kill me."

Pica stood at his shoulder looking at him with large eyes. "You said your string cut so far through one of their necks their head almost came off? I want to see you do that."

"I'll show you some time," Doffy promised, feeling a smile work its way to his lips. The blood and gore had made him sick at the time, but looking back on it— it had been cool, hadn't it? Something only someone powerful could do.

"You've already come so far with your power, young master," Trebol cooed. He wiped his face and hands with a handkerchief before sitting down beside him and petting his hair. "Hey, hey it's a pity we couldn't see you in action then, eh?"

“Maybe we’ll get lucky and someone’ll give us trouble and we’ll get to see it!” Corazon leaned on the table near Doffy with a wide grin. “You were like something out of the newspaper comics, Doffy! I bet you looked amazing.” 

Doffy preened a little. "I guess I'll have to show off a bit when I can," he said, smiling over at Corazon. "Did I miss anything around here?"

"Marines showed up a couple times," Dia said. "Damn strange, but they didn't make any trouble we noticed."

"What's it mean that the marines were here?" Doffy asked. He got the sense he wouldn't like the answer.

"Nothing good," Pica murmured.

"This island is unaffiliated with the world government," Trebol explained."So whatever the marines are here, is unofficial. They don't have authority, but that doesn't mean they don't have power." 

Corazon huffed.

“They got power wherever they go. I hear that if they don’t like an island they just blow it up with the push of a button.” He leaned closer to Doffy. “...honestly they’re probably just scoping out the locals for tributes or something.” 

Doffy leaned closer to him in return, their shoulders touching. Being around Corazon, Vergo, felt comforting. Familiar, even though they'd known one another for such a short time.

"Slaves, maybe, too," Diamante nodded. "Now that you're back, we're probably gonna be picking up from here fast and moving on just in case, right, Tre?"

"Right, right," Trebol murmured, still toying with Doffy's hair. "I'll get started disentangling us in the morning, and we can be on our merry way in less than a week. Sooner, if we happen to need to."

The idea of leaving tugged a question Doflamingo had been avoiding asking from his lips. "Rosi— you never found him, did you?"

"I kept looking, Doffy," Pica said quietly.

Corazon rested shoulder-to-shoulder with him, and huffed softly and sadly. “Pica was lookin’ every day…I helped look too. We never saw a trace of him. I’m sorry, Doffy.” 

"None of the locals saw him either," Diamante added, "I kept an ear out."

Doffy put on a brave face, fighting the urge to sink down in his chair. The truth was, he didn't even know if Rosi could have fed himself without him. The thought of his brother dying– alone and frightened without him— flashed through his mind and he fought down a whining noise. But rage followed despair like thunder follows lightning. If Rosi had died, it wasn't Doffy's fault. Doffy had done everything he could have for him.

Even his new friends had done everything they could, it seemed.

"It's alright," Doffy said, trying not to let his voice shake. "I lost my whole family, I guess. But I found all of you."

He looked around the table at them, remembering the warmth of their hands on his as they stood together outside.

Vergo’s hand patted against his back, and the young man was giving him his best smile , his glasses tipped down his nose. 

“I’m glad you did, Doffy. We never met someone half as amazin’ as you…I kept hopin’ we might see you again. Remember guys? I kept asking if he was gonna join the gang..”

"He did, he did," Trebol nodded. "And I would have never wished you bad luck on your journey but I'm glad you came back here, Doffy. You belong with us."

"Sure seems like," Diamante added. "Cheer up, Doffy. None of us here have anybody but each other. And you're an amazing addition to our 'family'."

"It's true," Pica said, softly.

Doflamingo smiled, basking in the attention, and the praise, and the feeling of warmth and acceptance. It was exactly what he'd been longing for on the endless nights on his flight from Mary Geoise.

"I'm glad then," Doffy said. He lifted his chin. "We can leave whenever it suits you all. There's no use waiting up for my brother any longer."

Vergo rubbed his back with a small nod. “Getting excited for our next destination? Next stop… wherever it is…we can pull a job together.” 

A flash of excitement shot through Doffy at the thought, eager to show the others what he could do since they'd seemed so impressed. And if they were criminals, and if he was becoming a criminal, so what?

Doflamingo's father had been wrong about everything he'd ever said, as far as Doffy was concerned. If he thought that criminals were the bad sort of people, Doffy thought that it was obvious that he was wrong about that, too.

He smiled brightly. "I can't wait!"

[normal-sea-urchin]

dudes i was told to write a (minimum) one page response to a passage about GMO foods for english class and i started out with talking about how i didn't know about gmo livestock and im now talking about the idea of animals that have been genetically modified to be soldiers in wars, i feel i may have lost the plot

[esteemed-excellency]

💫 :D

Some urchins elected Hiram's roof as their base, to snatch as many hats as possible from his guests. They don't trust him enough, as they don't trust any adult, and they would never accept an invitation, because the house is always so full of adults, but they sneak in sometimes when the place is not crawling with people. Coincidentally, they always seem to find a warm meal waiting for them. The house staff is always nice to them, and if they're lucky they'll find a spectacled captain or an old zailor willing to spin a yarn. The Precocious Tosher seems to like Hiram's company and the others agree he's fun to be around. Still, it's better not to get too involved with him, and better to avoid the place if there's no one inside. The mirrors hiss too much. They do appreciate the attic though, it's a bit creepy and full of interesting items, the best place to hang out and tell scary stories.

Hiram finds the hats thefts hilarious and he knows about the attic visits. He always keeps the most hazardous items in his rooms to avoid unpleasant accidents with his guests. He offered to adopt a particularly tempestuous girl once, but she couldn't accept the offer, and he doesn't mind her friends running around on his roof.

[renegadeknucks]

Roses, Sunflowers, and Lavender | Sonknuxadow

Days seem a little colder, and the sun seems to shine a little dimmer on Angel Island, even if little seemed to change for the rest of the world

Or...

Knuckles struggles with his immortality for one very specific reason.

Finally managed to write a fic after roughly a year of not doing so. Wanted to explore an idea I had.

[crayonurchin]

I will be selling my first novel at MCM ComicCon

Find me and my work at Soaps and Dragons for a signed copy, supplies are limited and online orders will be available at a future date!

The Goblin That Cured The King is aimed at a universal audience, whimsical for younger readers and thrilling for older ones!

This book is an absolute labour of love, and I'd be delighted to share it with you guys <3

[offstage-euthymia]

Citrus blues.

-------------

I climb mountains.

A resting place near a fountain

Under the willow tree.

Where you hear the shallow sea

Which scrubs the stony shore

Where sea urchins find home.

I have poppies around me

I snap their stalks and drink the milk.

The cobweb which is like the silk that stones me

Sometimes i have to.

Sometimes i don't.

But it's always there.

My flask with the teardrops for tomorrow. Sometimes worry, sometimes sorrow.

So may i borrow your time.

And put some lime in my eyes.

Until another day dies.

So I'm not saying goodbyes.

Im saying hello to your beautiful eyes.

And im asking for citrus blues.

Because i already have salt and tequila.

Hunches and cues with clues.

Left with tobacco crumbs and Shangri-La cruise.

-------

Poem by Marko Tivanovac

Background pic (pls if you know tell me)

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Has anyone made comments on the nickname that Floyd gave them? Even the teachers are called by nicknames, I think it's funny how everyone just casually accepts like it's a normal thing.

Yes, there have been instances of people commenting on Floyd's nicknames 😂 The main example I can think of is Grim in episode 4-24, but I'm sure there are also other times! (I believe Riddle in particular gets annoyed when Floyd refers to him as "Goldfishy".)

In 4, Grim is surprised by Floyd referring to him as "Baby Seal"; Floyd then explains the basis for the nickname (Grim is round and squishy like a baby seal!), and Jade elaborates that Floyd likes to give people sea creature nicknames. It's probably the case that everyone else has just accepted this quirk of Floyd's, and/or they've already had their nickname explained to them prior to Yuu showing up.

[leixo-demo]

normal about murch guy here..! i need to battle the abnormal about spyke guy because we are opposites and therefore clearly enemies

abnormal about spyke if youre reading this a battle is eminent. prepare yourself. me and my normalness about sea urchins are coming for u

Normal Murch guy and Abnormal Spyke fan got into an anime fight while these are in a promotion party,,,SMH!!

[citrine-elephant]

trying to not make a joke about whump being a fucked up form of self harm but here we are

... jokes aside, it's a good fucking pain outlet lol :'3c

[thedarkcircuswritings]

Teddy anon again with another request! And I got a whole well...set the scene part for ya! Got idea from seeing story in game lol! (Apologies for spoilers!)

Imagine the punks had accidently dropped a banana peel and while Street urchin cookie is making them say 'the town square belongs to everyone. We will not try to occupy the town square again...' They hear a yelp...

They turn and see a single banana peel...and y/n had slipped on it and did something like scrape their elbow...y/n starts to tear up from their injury.

(Bonus points if the punks recognize y/n as their idol's lover...their idol's very friendly, cuddly lover.

Bonus bonus points if the reader is autistic....sorry if I'm making ya write too many with this type of reader lmao! Just very relatable to me lol! Ya can ignore this Bonus bonus part if ya feel like it's too many lol!)

This, ladies and gentlemen, is why Street Urchin hates bananas. Trust me when I say it, she is pissed when she sees that somebody got hurt by the tiny spike gremlins, and even more so when her beloved Y/N is the victim! The punks already got in a panic seeing that Street Urchin's partner got caught in the crossfire, and now they panic more seeing that super-scary look on Street Urchin's face! After a lot of scolding, Street Urchin would bring the punks over to you and make them apologize to you before giving you some well-needed comfort and bandages. If the punks didn't learn before, they know now never to mess with Y/N cookie!