Seen people share their headcanons of what would Luffy call Crocodile if Crocodad was Real, and it did get me wondering
Like on one hand, Luffy has a perfect track-record with respecting trans people and not misgendering anyone, so if Crocodad Real, Luffy wouldn't misgender him
But also, Luffy has two braincells, and having two people to call "dad" would probably be confusing for him. And Luffy doesn't seem like the type of guy who'd either of his parents "Father" either. Canonically Luffy tends to use more affectionate terms for his family, including Dragon despite never having ever met him ("tou-chan", "ji-chan" for Garp, "nii-chan" for Ace. Note the lack of the polite "o" at the begining, and the use of "chan" instead of "san". The take-away here is that he's basically being a bit familiar and kind of affectionate)
And let us not forget, how Luffy loves giving nicknames to people
So it would be perfectly on-brand for Luffy to come up with a new nickname for Crocodile, if only to help differentiate The Dads
(Like yes, Luffy does technically have a nickname for Crocodile already ("wani", lit. "crocodile"), but it's not really an affectionate nickname (or a particularly disrespectful one either, kind of neutral (though calling someone you're not friends with by a nickname is kind of rude)). And while Luffy can and does drop the funny nicknames for people if he decides he likes them enough (see Hammock turning into Hancock, or Luffy learning Bonney's name and using it because he felt bad for her), if Luffy did learn about Crocodile being his other dad and wanted to treat him as such (which he also might not, to be fair)... yeah he could come up with a new nickname)
Now the question just is... what kind of a nickname would Luffy then come up with?
And because I'm a fucking loser with a passion for translation and localization, I'm almost specifically interested in what kind of a nickname Luffy would come up with in Japanese. And partially because, depending on the nickname, it could just be the exact same nickname in English too.
Like Luffy's "Yama-o" got localized as "Yamabro" because the "o" (written as 男, lit. "man") needed to be translated and localized for the nickname to hit the same in English. Same for shit like "split head" for Foxy or "giant shallot" for Moria, or "wani" getting localized as "gator" because Luffy calling Crocodile a "crocodile" as a nickname would not make any sense in English lmao
So... a cute nickname that makes it easy for Luffy to call Crocodile his "dad" without it getting confusing with calling Dragon "dad". Maybe something that ties to his name already and preferably rolls off the tongue easily in Japanese...
Like we have our Crocodads and Dadodiles but these nicknames are based in English, so they don't roll off the tongue nicely -> Can't imagine Luffy saying either. But... I think the fans are onto something there... There must be a variation of this nickname that would work well in Japanese...
Papadile.
I could see Luffy coming up with a nickname like that. It would roll off the tongue pretty easily. The only counter argument against it I can think of would be that Luffy does not seem like the kind of guy who would call anyone "papa". Like that word does not fit in his mouth.
...Anything else?
Well. I guess there is the third, forbidden option of Luffy calling him "oyaji" ("pops"), much like Whitebeard's crew called their captain too.
But that just leads us to an interesting thought; what the fuck would Crocodile prefer Luffy call him?
I mean this is Sir "Call me what you will" Crocodile, who generally does not seem to care that much about what people call him.
Like we could take that and just assume Crocodile would not give a fuck about what Luffy called him, but it's also possible this could be like The One Exception to The Rule. And there's many potential reasons why too
Like there's the practical side of things where it could be a pain in Crocodile's ass if the world found out the two were related, because it'd mean anything bad happening to either one could be used against the other. Someone targetting Luffy could be then used intentionally to target Crocodile and viceversa. As Dragon said, a child is a parent's weak spot after all. So it could still be in Crocodile's self-interest to keep their blood relation a secret.
But also; Crocodile had to leave his child behind. Much like how Olvia felt like she had no right to call herself Robin's mom, it'd make sense to me if Crocodile felt kind of the same. That regardless of their blood connection, he had no right to call himself Luffy's father, let alone deserve to be called that after what he'd done to Luffy.
So maybe Crocodile would prefer to be just called by his name. Maybe he'd be satisfied with that.
Perhaps being called "pops" would lowkey annoy the shit out of him because it would just remind him of That Asshole Who Took His Hand and beat his ass. Which, y'know, fair.
Perhaps "Papadile" would be just a bit too ridiculous and cutesy for him tolerate.
And perhaps Luffy calling him "dad" (or "father", or any variation of it) would be a lot more emotionally compromising to Crocodile than he'd like to admit, especially if he believed he would never be called that
But knowing Luffy, if he knows being called "dad" made Crocodile happy (even if he didn't want to admit it), and if Luffy did decide he liked Crocodile/accepted him as his other dad... He'd probably keep on calling Crocodile some variation of "dad", even if he insisted that "Crocodile was fine"
Also worth noting that according to this SBS, if Croc did raise a child that child would use 父上 ("chichiue"), which is quite a formal way to call someone Father
So that would be Crocodile's canon preferred term but god knows there'd be no way in hell he'd be able to convince Luffy to call him that, shit's way too formal for Luffy
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Under pressure and request from both Osiris and Shin Malphur, Drifter seeks out the Young Wolf early in their exile. He's not sure he'd say it went well, but it certainly could've gone much, much worse. And hey; Shin was right, new friends are new friends.
Alternatively: Two rogue Guardians play horse plinko with each other before agreeing to an exchange of favors.
I finally did it- A Questionably Fortunate Encounter's rewrite. I have no idea how I got the motivation to finish this, it wasn't even half done when I picked it back up, but here it is in time for TFE's (concept's) 2nd birthday! I am significantly happier with this than the original, you have no idea. It wasn't even a thousand words and now it's like 20 words from being 2k, and overall? Everything just has more character + an extra page of interaction and the end note being from Ghost instead of Drifter. and being accurate to more story details! I kept a lot of the parts i thought were funny tho, if moved them around-
[old ver. ao3] --- [new ver. ao3]
-
The Sundial. A ballsy idea from a mad warlock.
Knocking a few times on the side, he can’t help the chills down his spine at the whispers ringing in his ears. “If you short-circuit the universe, you’re on your own.” He snips, his already uneasy grin wavering.
“If I make a mistake here, you might cease to exist,” the old Warlock says simply, though there’s a questioning edge to it.
Drifter only shrugs. “Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad.”
Osiris squints at him as Drifter moves around the machine, checking the stability. “We haven’t talked about payment.”
Drifter’s grin smooths out some, sly now. “If you live through this little experiment, you can be sure I’ll be back to collect.”
A simple ‘hm’ is the only response he gets for a few seconds, before Osiris starts again.
“There’s a Guardian you should meet.”
“Yeah, yeah, so I’ve heard. Some bigshot—Can’t wait.”
"Drifter."
—
The Warlock and that old Hunter had their points—The Young Wolf needed people on their side, and it's not like Drifter couldn't use the opportunity. He figured, if worst comes to worst, just say Osiris sent him. It seemed the best bet; he heard the two of them had been on good terms, and Osiris wouldn’t have sent him without reason.
This was, regardless, a horrible idea.
Which was very quickly weighing him down as he waited just inside their most recent hideout; a willing, sitting duck in the path of a hellhound. Then again, Shin would be waiting for him, just the same, to see if he really went through with it. A rock and a hard place, if both were unmovable walls.
—
Eventually, the Kingbreaker did show up—and they looked pissed—but they didn't seem to quite notice him, yet.
Their Ghost, on the other hand, had stopped at the door, and was switching between glaring at him, and watching its Guardian. It was a bare hope, but he almost prayed for the Little Light to let the Guardian notice him by themself—for what good it would do.
Drifter had to admit, though, they looked like Hell—In both the shit way and the eternal punishment way—And he'd quite like to keep them from being his punishment, thanks.
They were never in the same place for long, constantly tapping their fingers or wringing their hands. He'd almost call it a nervous habit; if the jerky, almost corpse-twitching movements didn't make him feel like they'd pounce on him at any given moment. It gave the distinct impression of a Taken, a fact he took no comfort in. He had told Shin they would be unpredictable, but recordings didn’t capture just how much.
The Guardian’s posture was rather slumped, in spite of their twitchiness, but he was rather certain he was a pinch taller than them; though it could be their hunch. That dead-eyed and bone-deep tiredness that seeped off of them… The Guardian stumbled whenever they walked, off-balance. Injured, maybe.
They looked as unstable on their feet as he imagined they were mentally.
He rapped his fingers on the tabletop he was leaning against, a slight knot in his stomach building on the question of ‘How to get their attention without getting pinned as a threat?’
Questionably fortunate enough, and probably should’ve been expected; the tapping made them pause, and he'd almost compare the frozen movement to their namesake freezing to listen. They nearly looked like they'd been caught doing something they shouldn't be, or as if a sudden red dot (or dozen) had appeared on their chest.
The Young Wolf then snapped to look at him, eyes narrowed and hand beginning to raise to their sword. Their Ghost noticed, and took it as a sign to speak up; "What do you think you’re doing here? Who are you?" For being the Ghost of an exile, its voice was strikingly uptight. Drifter had expected an edge to the voice, but not for it to be pedant.
"Mind your business, Ghost," he drawled. Their head jolted up a fraction. "Just want a talk with your Guardian, is all-"
Their Ghost flicked back a bit, only to be replaced by its Guardian stepping up close to him. Well… he got their attention, at least.
His gut twisted in knots as the seconds passed like that—far, far too close for comfort. "How about we just… back up for a moment, yeah? Think this all through?" Like he hadn’t. He should have told that Warlock and Shin to shove their requests back down their throats.
The Guardian tilted their head, the action more unnerving than anything else, reminding Drifter of a certain other Hunter, and he was unsure if it was an acknowledgement or a threat. They refused to look anywhere but his eyes, and he swore they leaned a bit closer.
He raises his hands to push them back a bit, but thinks better of touching them. He opts to just slide back a bit, instead– except they match his step. He does not take another one. That definitely wasn't good.
"I'll ask again: Who are you?" The Ghost hovers over its Guardian’s shoulder as they tilt their head to allow it to take the center of Drifter’s vision. Their dynamic is clear, but he tries to focus on them.
"Your old man Osiris didn't mention me?” Drifter tries to say, “I’m hurt–”
"You will be hurt–" the Ghost starts, just as the Guardian grips his collar. There’s a moment the Drifter is almost certain they were going to slam him into the wall.
"Alright, alright—” he tries to interrupt, “Just back up.”
It takes them a moment, and a couple glances between him and the Ghost, but they do back up, if not letting go of his collar. He tries to quietly let out the breath he’d been holding, nerves a bit strung. Their emotions are as on-a-dime as he thought. Damn this plan. The Ghost eyes him expectantly.
"You can call me Drifter; I run a little… operation outta the Tower." Their face somehow pulls even further in a grimace. “Now, I know how that sounds, but I’m not working with the Vanguard—Trust. Wouldn’t be here if I was: Heard about your… dislike of ‘em.”
He gives them a grin when they don’t make another move, though not optimistic. Watching every little change in their expression doesn’t give him much hope, either, given the hard line in their brow now.
"That old Phoenix of yours pointed me your way, and I figured we both could make use of the others'... skills. I've got the connections, and you've guts enough to attack your own–”
The Drifter hardly has time to blink before his back is against the wall again, this time with a knife to his throat, sharp eyes glaring down at him—So it's like that. Osiris might've downplayed the sore spot; Drifter can’t even get away with a tease. He’s good at pushing buttons, but their reservations broke immediately.
He counts by the seconds as the Young Wolf silently dares him to say it again.
While he decidedly opts not to and tries to think of a way to de-escalate his mistake, he has… an inane thought: They’re taller than him… Not by too much, but the thought gives him an idea potentially worse than even the meeting itself was; something mischievous glinting in his eye and, as an added bonus, giving the Guardian pause.
"...Kinky." Feeling their hold loosen somewhat and seeing their brow twitch, Drifter pushes the joke with a sly grin and a cant to the side. “I didn’t realize you swung like that, Killer…”
Drifter’s eyes flick towards the Ghost at the undoubtably horrified, near-static chiming it makes as it rapidly recoils. “Are you… trying to flirt your way out of this–”
The Guardian’s expression seems of someone entirely bewildered by a puzzle in front of them. As they loosened their hold in what he could only assume was disbelief, Drifter had to stop himself from laughing—in relief, at the absurdity, or at their reaction.
“Nahh… Just seizing an opportunity, you’d understand,” he says, as nonchalantly as he can manage. There’s a moment of silence, the Guardian and their Ghost both searching his face, and it's everything he can do not to break—Either into a sweat or into a fit of laughter.
"...what the hell is wrong with you?" is the only response he got from the Ghost, the top fold of its shell covering half its eye. Drifter can only assume it's meant to be a mimicry of a dead-stare.
"Many things!” He gives a toothy grin that splits his face as he chuckles, “Next question."
The Ghost makes a show of rolling its eye, while the Guardian still looks like their mind has shattered, eyes seeming to search the wall through him for answers. The Ghost seems to take notice of its Guardian’s… inoperable state, and pipes up again, terse, “So what do you want?”
He’s really going to have to cut a deal with the Ghost, instead, isn’t he? As Drifter slowly tugs the Guardian’s hand from his collar—which they thankfully do not resist—he gives the Ghost the greasiest side-eye he can manage. “Well, as I was saying before your Guardian interrupted me,” it mimics narrowing its eye as he speaks. “I hear you two need friends, and, well, I’m always looking for more of those.”
“Just get to the point,” the Ghost pushes, tone flat. The Guardian seems to only vaguely be paying attention.
“Them and I could both use the support, so I suggest an… exchange.”
“An exchange? What is that– You mean, glimmer?” The Ghost interrupts itself with flicking its shell around itself and letting out a short chirr. “Information? We have nothing you’d want in that.”
“Nah, I don’t want any of that. If anything, I’m offering—You two just gotta do some favors for me in return. How’s that sound?” At the mention of favors, the Guardian refocuses; eyes widening some before narrowing and scanning him in search of some catch. “Just a job or two; you scratch my back, I scratch yours, yeah? Nothing you wouldn’t already do, of course.”
At the skeptical, almost blank looks from both of them, Drifter’s grin tightens some. “Favor for favor make sense to you?” He’s tempted to ask if they’ve got cotton in their ears. The pair take a long glance at each other, and he can only see the slight twitching in both’s expressions.
“...And how do we know we can trust you?” Finally comes an answer, again from the Ghost, but one that’s more assuring than it probably should be.
“Your old man asked me here, didn’t I say? I wouldn't risk this without a good word.” That, or without Shin over his shoulder. He turns his eye back to its Guardian and offers them a hand, “So, whaddya say? Give it a shot, hotshot?”
The Ghost trills in some semblance of worry as the Guardian cautiously eyes him and his hand, body canted away from him, before hesitantly taking his hand. Their hold is slight and feels like they would rather writhe away from him, but they hold just long enough to shake his hand.
“Heyy, don’t be like that, now. Friends take care of friends, yeah? Trust.” The Guardian grimaces at his words. Maybe that odd adage of insects had a bit more truth to it than he realized.
They’re more scared of you than you are of them?
—
Hours later, the Drifter far gone, and his Guardian was still kind of distracted. Honestly, Ghost would be lying if he said he wasn’t mind-broke by that as well. Who, in any sane state of mind, would do any of that? Sneak into an ill exile’s hideout, startle and piss them off, and then try to make a deal?
And why did it… actually work?
Ghost must be losing it.
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