Chapters: 1/28 Fandom: One Piece (Anime & Manga) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence,

6. Lipstick

Kidd - 11 | Killer - 15 | Victoria - 15 almost 16

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Killer in dresses and makeup

Teenagers doing teenager things

Victoria is a mill girl

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Victoria had been a mill girl since she was 10, a doffer for the older women in the textile mill, and earning herself a bed at the Women's Boarding House, tucked away on the city side of the mill complex, blocking the city's view of the textile manufacturing building and the waste it dumped freely out into the Heaps. She was well aware of the good fortune she'd fallen into, having seen the conditions other girls and boys her age outside of the walls lived in. She was almost 16 now, and still sleeping in the same bed night after night.

The years of being underpaid and overworked left her with a roof over her head, three square meals a day, and never having to worry about the things that go bump in the night.

Never had to worry about the unwanted attention of the older boys as not a one of them yet able to sneak past the Widow Matron of her building.

 That wasn't to say Victoria had not been sneaking a certain younger boy in for a couple of years now.

Three years actually - right under the nose of the adults - with the exception of one of the nurses who'd taught Victoria herself the tricks on a night the young woman preferred not to remember. It was a good thing Killer made a convincing girl, prettier hair than her own, and a wore her dresses and heels as naturally as she did. She just had to make sure he was out by curfew or someone was bound to notice the extra girl at head count.

Once, on one of her free weekends, her dress had torn along the back when it got caught on a nail or something. Instead of going home - and possibly be misunderstood as forfeiting her remaining free time - she'd convinced Killer (and Kidd because she'd forgotten to lock the door) to follow her into a shop's bathroom and put her dress on so she could sew it back up as properly as one could on the fly.

While using him as a dress form - she wasn't particular well devolved and he was about as wide chested as she was and it fit him well enough for the task - Kidd had asked the two if that meant Killer was a girl.

Killer had looked upset, it was too close to the ugly things the other boys called him and while she knew Kidd didn't know any better, it was still bordering on hurtful.

"What's wrong with being a girl?" she had demanded of him. Kidd looked surprised, before slouching against the main door, looking properly told off, muttering "Nuthin'."

With a frown, she'd turned back to her stitching, when Killer spoke up, his voice timid in a way she wasn't used to, "Victoria wears pants most of the time, does that make her a boy?" he asked Kidd.

"…no?"

"You're wearing one of her old shirts right now - does that made you a girl?"

The boy shook his head no.

"It's just clothes and stuff."

"Okay." Kidd agreed, sounding like right now he just want the conversation to end.

But Victoria had looked at Killer in her favorite yellow dress - it was the wrong colour for him, but made a cute silhouette.

She'd brought him an older blue one of hers a few weeks later. They'd snuck into the bathroom again, and she'd dressed him up and it looked so much better than the yellow one had.

And then they'd waltzed right in though the front doors of her boarding house, only barely keeping composed long enough to shut themselves away in her currently empty dorm room before they were laughing wildly, clutching at each other to keep from falling over.

"I can't believe that worked!" Killer was cackling, and neither could Victoria, and the thrill of getting such a big one over on the Widow Matron was a high she'd not been expecting.

Most of the time, Victoria was more than happy to hang out with both of the boys, but there was something exhilarating in sneaking Killer away from both his childminder duties and past the women of the boarding house. She was pretty sure some of the other girls had suspected something was up seeing as Killer - who had the audacity to introduce himself as Killer still - could never be found at meals or at bed check.

So far though, the only thing anyone had actually said was when Nicolette had still been in the room getting ready when Victoria and Killer slipped in one afternoon. Killer had quickly looked away from the half-dressed woman, blushing, and Victoria had felt a little offended he'd never reacted to her that way. Nicolette had frowned at the interruption but otherwise ignored them, at least until she was putting her things away. She held a little tube up thoughtfully, before tossing it to Victoria. Even surprised, she'd caught it with ease, looking confused.

"Killer'd look good in purple, I think." was all Nicolette said, before heading out for her own night on the town.

It was a tube of lipstick. Victoria and Killer looked at it thoughtfully.

Nicolette was right. Killer did look good in purple. It was a soft lilac colour that worked well with his straw yellow hair and ice blue eyes. Victoria found she liked painting him up in it, some times adding a touch of purple powder that she'd later pick up to the creases of his eyelids.

Sometimes, after he was all dolled up, they'd hit the town together. Other days they spend in her dorm room. "Just don't mess up your lipstick" was her only rule.

And then he'd either escort her back to the doors just before 10, or would be sneaking out the back, headed back to the Heaps. He had a small collection of makeup that was just his that he hid in one of his caches, along with the dress. The other clothes he would bring back to Kidd, who was more than happy to wear even the ugliest prints if not for anything more than the fact they'd never belonged to anyone else before him.

Kidd would watch him those nights, carefully washing the makeup off under the flickering of lamp light.

"You don't have to wash it off…" Kidd had said finally, "If you don't want to. I don't care if you like to look pretty."

Killer had smiled up at him, head tilted so his bangs fell away from his face for once, and he studied his younger friend, "You think I look pretty?"

Day 14 : Anthropomorphic

Day late getting the colour done XD

Personally i think Kidd is closer to a boar, but oda says fighting bull so i wanted to play with that. Then, I went more local to me- Kidd as an American Bison and Killer as the largest n.american weasel- the wolverine (albino version)

Original Prompt list by gratefulcheeses

Read on A03 or under the Read More..

Kidd & Killer (and Heat & Wire) in SPACE!

Notes:

Wrote over the summer, i just really wanted some claustrophobic space stuff. Not sure how to expand it into anything larger, but the sandbox is open if anyone else wants to play

"Wire to KiKi?"

The radio called out a third time, only dead air in response back.

Stationed outside of the asteroid field, the Victoria Zeta drifted. She was on a skeleton crew for this run - the task retrieving lost cargo instead of their usual mining operations.

As the oldest of the four, Wire & Heat remained behind as their captain and his vice had gone to man the grappler. Wire was more than comfortable piloting V.Zeta when needed, even if he and Heat were technically maintenance crew. Captain was also navigator in times of trouble, able to recalculate paths as fast if not faster than the computer - a skill leading itself beautifully to the shifting fields of debris and stone. Killer was their first mate and lead pilot, but he excelled in the smaller craft the way few physically could, both with the fast chaotic spins she was known for and the small spaces he found more home than claustrophobic.

Right now, Kidd and Killer were out on their own in the smallest of their Victoria collective - the Victoria Punk - a small grappler pod more storage then crew space. There was a second more battle ready grappler - the Victoria Gibson - for outright dog fights. Both were designed for a crew of two, but Kidd was capable of soloing the Gibson as a tank if Killer needed to stay with the Punk to fly quick maneuvers - running distractions rather than outright fighting. The Punk was small but fast - and Kidd had taken advantage of Killer's smaller form to refit the ship to give himself more maneuverability in the arms.

<><>

"Wi.... Ki"

Lost among the screaming alarms was the tiny voice of the comm as Killer took to desperate measures to escape his tail. He'd been behind Kidd in the swivel trying to adjust a loose connection when the attack had thrust them off the face of the asteroid they'd been docked at - free spiraling into space; and he'd only not been thrown against the control panel by Kidd's quick response and holding in him place as they were knocked loose.

He'd slid into the cocoon of the pilot controls of the Punk and was trying to fly and battle alarms simultaneously when Kidd removed his helmet and pulled himself from the gun seat to hang off the shoulder of Killer's station.

"Just fly" he'd ordered - before all the sound fell away when Kidd's headset settled over Killer's ears. Kidd had disconnected the input, leaving Killer to the silence of space and dealt with the plethora of system warnings himself.

Killer knew the Punk by vibrations alone and instinctively continued and adjusted as his displays went in and out. Kidd- the only one who might know the Punk better than Killer - began triage on his ship.

"WiHe to - "

"Zeta - this is Punk. Head's up. We're being ambushed!"

Wire's voice paused. "You need Heat in Gibson?"

"Negative - just stay alert and be ready to grab us when we get to you. We don't have time for a dock at this point."

"Copy Captain"

<><>

Kidd eyed the next set of alarms worried. Killer was doing well in avoiding further damage but the Punk was starting to strain under his hair pin flying.

Killer was also without his helmet - the blue striped plating audibly clattering around the guts of Punk's arms right now.

Executive decision made - Kidd detached his left arm from the Punk's system, and tucked himself in fully behind Killer's station.

"Kidd?" Killer spared him a glace before unclipping the shoulder of his harness. He handed the right shoulder back blindly, trusting Kidd would take it.

"Wrap it behind you and I'll clip you in at the hip." It was an awkward moment of contorting, Kidd twisting himself full circle in the tiny cavity and handing the clip back on Killer's left. There was no room left for Kidd to try and twist to get the left shoulder in as Killer replaced the strap with the one now behind Kidd - the left strap retracting uselessly into the seat.

Kidd patted his partner's shoulder reassuringly, before hitting the seal between the pilot and gunner pods. Maybe before the modifications, this could have been comfortable, but those days where long past them. Really, Kidd was fine just as long as he didn't inhale too deep. He was still too tall for the area, knees bent to each side awkwardly, but when the inevitable leak happened, they would be on the same side of the door no matter the outcome.

And then it came - an explosive shudder as the hull of the Punk was breached and they were set spinning once again. Kidd wrapped an arm over Killer's torso to hold him when the tumbling sent them ass over heels and Killer left only restrained by the hip belt.

Kidd felt his vision hazing as Killer focused on missing the rocks over steadying the spin and he braved one moment to pat Kidd's arm reassuringly before every light in the cocoon turned red and every siren cut off all in one go.

There was an explosion behind them - something big - and then Kidd came back to himself as they drifted in silence. Killer was panting like he'd run a marathon, blond hair slipping from under his suit hood to plaster itself to his sweaty face. His focus was still solely on his flying, but it seemed to Kidd he'd not only shaken their tail but dealt with it permanently.

"KiKi to WiHe - do you copy?" Kidd asked as the alarm lights flickered out as he let go of Killer to begin dismissing them one by one.

"WiHe to KiKi - we copy."

Kidd squeezed Killer's shoulder as he relaxed, a half hearted massage just as much to calm him as to reassure Killer. "We're not going to be able to dock but we're on our way for a pick up."

"Grap and Go, or cargo bay?"

"Grab and go for now. We might have more friends lurking."

Killer would get them to Victoria Zeta - Kidd had no doubts. If they had a grabbler after that was anyone's guess.

<><><>

The Punks gunner segment was gone. Killer had managed to taunt their tail close enough they couldn't evade the mass when Killer'd forced it to detach.

"I'm sorry - " he's started, only for Kidd to press a kiss to his temple as they sat waiting. Heat had used Victoria Gibson to grab the pilot capsule of Punk, and the two remained clutched in Grison's grip as the other grappler remained docked. And they would remain there until the commanders had piloted Victoria Zeta back into the safety of deep space.

"I'll get you a new helmet, don't worry about it."

Killer scowled, "That wasn't what I meant."

Kidd dug his chin into Killer's left shoulder, eliciting a different angry noise, "I said what I said. We still have the Gibson. We'll figure things out. We always do."

The real question was why had they been baited to the run? Were they always the target or just the first unlucky saps to get there first?

Hell - were they even first? How many others had come out here only to meet their ends?

Kidd hated open questions.

Oh ABSOLUTELY yes

Day 12 : Modern AU

Closed for Lunch

Oda once said that if Kidd & Killer were in our world, Kidd would be an Arms Dealer, and Killer would be making pasta.

Kidd owns a firearms store, and Killer has his own restaurant near by. Every day, Killer brings Kidd fresh noodles for lunch

Original Prompt list by gratefulcheeses

30. Tears

Kidd - 17 | Victoria 22

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Victoria's death

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

He knows her.

Well.. he knew her.

Kidd stares at the body, still partially buried in garbage.

Hip and Hop are quiet behind him, solemn and still.

Its bad enough someone murdered this woman. Then they brought her out to his turf and threw her away.

Like trash.

Before Kidd took over, bodies got dumps in the Heaps all the time. He'd put a stop to that years ago.

But then someone decided that they could waltz in and do as they liked. Very few had the egos for it. Only one group on the island still  willing to openly disrespect him like this.

It wasn't just that it was a body. It wasn't just some poor soul that was discarded to prove a point.

But that was Victoria.

It had been four years. Last time he'd seen her she'd been so upset she'd left crying, and never looked back.

He'd never shed a tear for her leaving.

He's shedding them now.

Compo had gently taken his elbow, as if to lead him away. He jerks himself free, stumbling closer to the body.

They brutalized her, her face bloody, body broken. Her neck is broken, deep dark marks, a solid thick line left by a belt. Burned her and cut her and broke her. Stripped her bare and threw her away.

He's struggling out of his coat, tries to cover her, give her some dignity back.

"Boss," Boogie is murmuring at his side - no ... above him... as Kidd sinks to his knees. He doesn't know what to do; He can't do anything. She's already dead.

Kidd looks over the scrapyard, the Heaps, His Realm. His Domain. And none of that mattered, because Victoria is dead and nothing he's accomplished stopped it from happening. Nothing he's done will keep the next person from being thrown away by Kutsukku's undercity.

He looks to the city, taunting him, just as tall and imposing as it's been his whole life. Mocking him with things he's never allowed to have. Things it's gladly ripped away from even it own people - not because they've done something wrong - but that they've gotten in the way of the boss' games.

Kidd's going to burn it to the ground.

for those interested in making their own, the pattern is available for free on stitch-fiddle

please note the above was made with sewing thread, not dmc floss so yours may look different. please feel free to use your own gold or red shade if you feel you like something better

Badge from RWBY’s Beacon Academy 3 colours. 32 canvas. used extra sewing thread instead of DMC floss In progress post on DA  or Newgrounds 

23. Morning

Kidd - 6 | Killer - 10?

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Kidd gets named

Killer gets a birthday

more scottish holidays I'm trying to twist to fit into one piece

holidays would be the most reliable way for a bunch of homeless kids to keep track of time

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Besides counting the fourteen days between dock pays, Killer also carefully counted quarter days. He had no paper contracts - he wouldn't be able to read them anyway - but its when pay ledgers would be checked, and extra hands would be let go. Leases would be up and one either paid for the next few months or made sure to be out the door before the landlords caught on you'd been squatting there in the first place.

It was also a chance to get hired again and get steady work. And Killer put his best face forward every Martinmas; winter was the most important time to get work. Work meant pay, sure. But good work also meant being warm in the day, sometimes a meal at lunch, and if really lucky, a safe hidy-hole to sleep after dark.

Killer, who was good with numbers and likes sussing out the patterns they made, loved this time of year. Martinmas started on 11/11 and lasted 2 months and 22 days ending on 2/2 on Candlemas, and Killer had always felt that must mean it a lucky time of year. Last year had been hard - the docks were still recovering from the fire and the only people with extra coin for the season hadn't wanted two little boys on staff.

32 days after First-Foot and 23 days after he'd given the last of their coins to the kid, Killer had taken the tiny stub of their last candle and boldly joined the woman who marched to Februa. He's watch them march every year to get their candle's blessed, and Killer needed all the blessings he could get, even if it just meant a candle he'd hope would last a little longer.

The women around him would point and whisper at him as he walked with them, but when his bravado started to fail him, he was saved by the kid who'd gotten bored begging at his assigned corner and left to find him. He was munching on an already partially eaten sandwich, before offering it to Killer. Killer - who was indeed hungry - took a bite before giving it back.

The whispers started up again, and Killer wished he hadn't taken the bite, it knotting up in his gut.

"Whose children are these?" One woman asked finally, addressing the others.

He just wanted his candle blessed. Now he was pretty sure he'd messed up somewhere. Thankfully, the kid didn't seem to notice the unease and stayed focused on his meal.

At least until the woman grabbed his arm, and he dropped the coveted food when she practically lifted the little boy off the ground - "Whose kid is this!"

Killer could have bitten her, and certainly would if she carried on like that, "Hey! Hey, he's mine, let him go!"

She frowned at him, expression unhappy still, "Excuse me?"

"He's mine!"

"Where's your mother?" one woman asked; Killer had no answer to that. "What do you mean he's yours?" asked another, and Killer wasn't sure how to answer that either.

"Is this your bother?" the woman ask the kid instead. He looked just as unsure how to answer as Killer.

"He's my kid! Give him back!" Killer declared, both boys starting to get upset.

One of the women took pity on them it seemed, and she stepped up to whisper something to get first woman to let go of the kid. Killer grabbed his hand and meant to run away, but the woman who's asked about their mothers knelt down to block their way.

"Hi, Kidd, I'm so sorry about your sandwich. But I saw you come over to share it with.. uh…"

"This is Killer." he said it without hesitation, clinging to Killer. He was more upset by Killer being upset at the moment, the whole ordeal making little sense to him.

"I saw you share it with Killer while he waited in line with us. That was very thoughtful of you."

He grinned, and Killer relaxed just a fraction.

She pulled out beri note, and put it into Kidd's free left hand, "Hey, Kidd, why don't you go and get you and Killer a new one?"

Both the boys face dropped in surprise at the paper bill. Kidd practically shoved it in Killer's face, with an awed 'look!'

Beri was off island money; it was worth a lot to the right people. Worth more then the numbers printed on it.

"It's too much…" he didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out before Killer could stop them. Kidd looked at him curiously.

The woman's smile is still kind but incredibly sad. "Is it just the two of you then? Or are there others?"

"Just us," Kidd pipped up, the beri note having been folded up and put in the little drawstring bag his birthday coins has been in.

"Wh.." she pursed her lips, tilting her head and tried again, "Do you understand what the march to Februa is for?"

"Killer's getting our candle blessed."

Killer showed her their candle stub.

"It's just the two of you?" she asks again, and Kidd nods before Killer can tell him to stop, starting to feel nervous.

But she looks thoughtful, "Is this the first year it's just been the two of you then?"

"The kid's been mine since the coup."

"Okay," she smiles, and when she stands, she ushers Killer in front of her with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

A few of the women had hung back waiting for her as the rest had marched on. "This is Kidd," she says, touching Kidd's red hair first, "and this is Killer," she said, her hand going from his shoulder to his hair too. "This is the first year Killer has had Kidd, and he's going to get get their last candle blessed."

He was still doing it wrong, Killer realized, but the laughs were kind, their smiles no longer mocking but sweet. The woman's hand was warm and soothing where it lingered on his head. They looked at him like people looked at Kidd when he did something cute. The beri woman kept a hand on them the whole way, and no one asked again why they were there. When it was Killer's turn, words where exchanged in advanced, and a confused man said a prayer on his candle.

It would several year later before Kidd would sit up suddenly one night, hours after they should have both been sleeping. Killer bolted upright the moment he did - a light sleeper to the point to of detriment - but also something that had saved their asses many a times. "What it is?!" he whispered harshly when he couldn't figure out what woke Kidd up.

Kidd looked at him accusingly in the low light, "When is your fucking birthday?"

"Wha… what?"

"How do I not know this? How have we never celebrated your birthday?!"

Exhausted, Killer plopped back down, arm slung over his face. "Go the fuck back to sleep."

"No, seriously," Kidd shoved his shoulder, and when that didn't work, pulled Killer's arm down, "When the fuck is your birthday?"

"Who knows," Killer answered, pulling his arm free and rolling away from Kidd to try and go back to sleep.

Unfortunately for him, it was never going to happen as long as Kidd was staring at him; some part of his brain refusing to let him ignore the fact someone was looking at him.

"Candlemas." he said finally, the first day to come to mind, "last term day of winter."

Kidd was whispering under his breath, trying to remember if he knew anything relevant about the day.

"Second of February." Killer supplied, tired of listening to the gears grinding uselessly in Kidd's head.

"Oh…"

"Will you go back to sleep now?"

17. Sacrifice

Kidd - 18 | Killer - 22 | Heat - 23

Tags specifically for this chapter:

Food Issues coming up again

yeah, all these assholes had some kind of eating disorder at one point

vague references to starvation, overeating, and eating rotten food

Killer struggles to throw rotten food out

Kidd does too but actually manages to go through with it

Read at A03 linked above or here below cut

Drabbles from Pocket Jack's KiKi-tober Prompt list

Kidd had slept though breakfast - which was not unusual for him - and had wandered down to the galley to pilfer a snack as Pomp & UK cleaned up after the meal. And if Killer was not to busy prepping for lunch, to get the man to make him something personally.

And he planned it perfectly it seemed, because Killer was indeed standing causally at the kitchen counter. He had his notebook out; Killer had his own means of how his thought a kitchen should be run, but so far there's been no real complaints and everyone been well fed. Killer's seasoning work was hit or miss, seeing as he wanted to try every mix or herb or spice with very little experience to back it up.

But it had flavour, and the flavour wasn't penicillin.

At the moment, Killer was repeatedly tapping the pen against the counter in his right, studying something in his left.

"What's up?"

"Its gone bad..."

Kidd paused, looking at his first mate in confusion. He thought Killer was doing meal planning, or inventory or something. That 'gone bad' was a problem, but Killer's voice was distant and almost a little lost.

"How bad?"

Killer's head turned slightly, and he lifted his hand up enough for Kidd to see he was holding a jar of something. He was unreadable behind the mask for most, but Kidd could tell it was worse then the normal stoicism he like to pretend he had once it was on... This was a different quiet - like he was stuck.

Kidd came over to peer into the jar, Killer tilted it to him to see. It was a jar of fruit preserves, still about a third full. The jam itself looked fine, but the sides had begun to grow over with soft wispy mold.

"Do we have more?"

"Different fruit, but yeah."

"The other one still good?"

"Still sealed, so it should be fine."

Kidd made an executive decision then, and took the jar and table knife from Killer.

Killer handed both other with no hesitation.

Kidd left the galley.

Every part of him was trying to get him to turn back around - they could spoon out the bottom still, that was at least four more sandwiches at the bottom. Six if they were for some of the smaller members of the crew. And they had a big crew right now - nearly thirty strong and almost all of them having run with at least one of the four commanders back on the island.

Thirty mouths, at least three times a day. Figuring in the night squad, Killer was feeding a platoon of people four times a day, a meal of some kind on the table every 6 hours. UK had been stepping up and assisting him so the man didn't burn out, familiar enough with Killer to navigate his idiosyncrasies without stepping on any toes. And House, Mosh, Pomp, and Disc J had stepped up from the other gangs to form the Punks' mess hall squad. But it was still thirty people.

It didn't matter how well stocked they were, there was always that fear that the next time they turned around, the pantry would be empty. They'd all grown up with it, all of them living through days of not being sure where the next meal was coming from. Years of getting their hands on just enough food to make it to the next day but never enough to stop feeling hungry.

Kidd contemplated the jar again once he stepped out on deck, an uncertain shadow named Killer trailing behind him. They'd all made themselves to sick in those early days, dropping obscene amounts of money at taverns in those first few ports. They had no idea what shit was worth once off the island, nor had they cared, eating themselves well past the point of sick. It had taken them all the way to Reverse Mountain to finally start to get a handle on things and Heat had worked with Killer, the two making remarkable progress getting everyone on responsible eating habitats.

Still didn't mean there wasn't severe hang ups lurking under the surface.

Heat had been making his way the crow's nest for his shift, and paused to watch the two of them. Watched the jittery way Killer followed. Watched the jar in Captain's hand.

Kidd stood at the railing, touching the 'good' jam at the bottom with the table knife. Six people! his head was screaming, and he was surprised how hard to was to finally stir it up, loosening the jam and mold both, mixing them. Inseparable. Before he could think about it, he upended the glass, shaking it until the jam fell loose and into the sea.

He could feel Killer tensing up even without looking at him. He did met Heat's gaze though, the man doing his best to look nonchalant to hid his interest.

He continued to hold Heat's gaze as he handed the empty jar back to Killer. "We don't do that no more. As long as I'm Captain, we will never go back to that."

He looked at Killer then, "If in doubt, throw it out. You don't serve rotten food to my crew," His voice softened, "and you don't eat anything that's gone off ever again. You hear me?"

"Aye Captain." Killer murmured, taking the jar, shoulder's slumping as he lost tension; The responsibility of the choice taken from him.

reblogged here since i no longer use that account

Same game as the hat - not as proud of this one - can definitely see where to make some more colour adjustments. Honestly, it looked great until the last colour *head desk*

again, size 16 canvas.