I recommend not reading this without watching the anime to the end or reading antile chapter 333 , thare will be spoiler for the manga so proceed with caution .
my oc name is is not dessert yet i will love you sagestions on it
but for now we'll call him by his nickname panboo
and his Alias / Code Name is panboo ( pronoun - panbu )
military code name and his childhoode name that was made with a group of friends on a mincraft server (made from the word panda and bamboo)
Explore detailed character designs, future story plans, in-depth lore, and explanations about various elements and original characters (OCs).
link - hxh fanfic & oc : bamboo x panda : informtion Chapter 1 : the waves of fate
the prolog
Chapter 1 : the waves of fateThe world was a blur of salt and pain. Water—biting, relentless—flooded her senses as she struggled to stay afloat. Her limbs, heavy and uncoordinated, seemed to betray her with every movement. The sharp sting of rock or metal punctured her side, but it didn't matter. She was alive. Barely.
Her mind, clouded by exhaustion, clung to a singular thought: she had to survive.
Her body, bruised and battered by the unforgiving sea, dragged itself onto a foreign shore. The sand beneath her was coarse and unfamiliar, but it felt solid beneath her weary form. She had reached the edge of some unknown land. The heat of the sun, now unrelenting, made the air thick with suffocating warmth.
She stumbled, each step a battle against her broken body, but her resolve never wavered. The King. She had to give birth to the King. She needed a kingdom, a purpose.
But the sun was too much. The heat was searing. Her frail form, worn from the saltwater and the long journey, began to fail under the relentless rays. The scorching sun bore down on her, cruel and unforgiving, pushing her to the brink of collapse.
She staggered towards a cave in the distance, her body lurching forward like a dying animal seeking refuge from the heat. The coolness of the cave's shadow was a relief, its dark interior offering shelter from the burning sun. As she entered, the weight of the world seemed to press against her, and her legs gave out.
The cave's stone walls seemed to close in around her as she lay on the cold ground. Her breath was shallow, her energy spent. She could feel her body failing her, but the hunger—the desperate, gnawing hunger to create, to give life—kept her from succumbing to the darkness.
But there was something else—something unfamiliar. A pang of fear. For the first time in her life, she wasn't certain she would survive. She was the Queen, the foundation of her species' future, but now she could barely move.
She needed help.
The thought was foreign to her. She had never needed anyone. She had never been weak. But now, in the cold, dark cave, with the sun beating outside, she understood the truth. If she could not find strength, if she could not push through this, her dream would never come to pass. The King would never be born. Her colony, her legacy—gone.
She clicked her mandibles weakly, eyes barely open. "I need help… Someone, please…"
The words hung in the air like an unanswered plea, swallowed by the stillness of the cave. For the first time, the Queen realized the vast weight of her responsibility, and how, in the end, survival was not a battle she could win alone.
The sea was calm, too calm. Panboo leaned over the edge of the military ship, the dark waters reflecting a cloud-covered sky. He hated the quiet. The endless horizon only deepened the emptiness inside of him. His fingers gripped the railing as if it could anchor him to something, anything, that made sense.
He wasn't here out of a sense of duty or pride. He wasn't here to fight for any cause. He was here because, in this chaos, maybe—just maybe—he could find a way to die without having to make the decision himself. The army, the war, the never-ending storm of violence—it was all just a path to an end.
But even then, his thoughts were murky, clouded by the fog that was his depression. He couldn't focus. He couldn't breathe. He didn't care about the mission or the soldiers around him, each of them busy in their own way, preparing for the next phase of whatever pointless conflict they were engaged in.
Just get through the day, Panboo. Just get through it.
The thought barely registered before the ship shuddered violently beneath him. The world tilted as he stumbled, slamming into the cold metal deck. The sound of gunfire erupted from above, echoing through the ship like a thunderclap, but it wasn't thunder. It was real. Explosions rocked the vessel, throwing men to the ground, their screams mingling with the sound of the ship groaning under pressure.
Panic spread like wildfire. Soldiers scrambled, shouting orders, running toward the deck, fighting to maintain control. But Panboo? He just stood there, staring at the chaos around him, distant as always. His heart beat heavily in his chest, but it wasn't fear. No, not fear. It was something colder. An acceptance. Whatever was coming, whatever hell had just been unleashed, it was just another step toward the end.
Another explosion. This one closer. The ship groaned again, and then—splash. The next moment, the floor beneath him cracked open, and water poured in, flooding the hallway. He didn't have time to react. The force of the blast sent him tumbling, sliding across the wet metal. The last thing he saw before everything went dark was the flash of lights as the ship began to list, sinking into the sea.
Just let it end…
end of chapter next time panboo meets a chimera ant queen what will be his reaction
what do you think
if you an artist thare is a descrption of panboo
and his style , will love to see youre drawings .
if any one want to post it in youtube or anywhere
msg me on discord - ign - im_panboo
Explore detailed character designs, future story plans, in-depth lore, and explanations about various elements and original characters (OCs).
link - hxh fanfic & oc : bamboo x panda : informtion
Physical Appearance as a human
Panboo is a young man in his early twenties, with a lean but sturdy build shaped by years of rigorous military training. His height is average, around 5'10", but his slightly hunched posture gives the impression of someone weighed down by unseen burdens. His complexion is pale, almost sickly, a result of countless sleepless nights and a perpetual sense of detachment from the world around him.
His face is sharp and angular, with prominent cheekbones and a jawline that might have been striking if not for the gauntness that frames it. Dark circles shadow his deep-set hazel eyes, which shimmer with an otherworldly golden hue when his Hexagonal Nen Eyes are activated. His gaze is often vacant, as though he's staring through the world rather than at it.
Panboo's messy, unkempt black hair falls just above his shoulders, streaked with a faint silver sheen near the temples—possibly from stress, or perhaps a strange side effect of his rare Nen ability. His eyebrows are thick and expressive, often furrowed in thought or melancholy, giving him an air of constant introspection.
Clothing
In the army, Panboo wears a standard military uniform: a fitted dark green jacket, reinforced with protective patches at the shoulders and elbows, paired with durable cargo pants and sturdy combat boots scuffed from years of wear. The uniform bears no insignias or marks of pride—he makes no effort to maintain its appearance, letting it reflect the chaos of his inner world.
Off duty, Panboo opts for simple, muted clothing: plain T-shirts, worn jeans, and a battered brown jacket that once belonged to his grandfather. Around his neck, he wears a thin silver chain, hidden beneath his shirt. It carries a small charm engraved with a symbol of hope, a gift from his older brother's daughter—the one connection he still cherishes.
Notable Features
Scars: His arms and hands bear small, jagged scars from years of combat, though none are as noticeable as the deep gash that runs diagonally across his left forearm—a reminder of a mission gone wrong.
Body Language: Panboo's movements are deliberate and subdued, almost as if he's conserving energy or trying to make himself invisible. He rarely stands tall, and his hands are often stuffed in his pockets or fidgeting with loose threads on his clothing.
Voice: His voice is quiet and slightly raspy, with a detached tone that makes it hard to discern his emotions. However, there's an underlying warmth that sometimes peeks through, revealing the emotional depth he tries to keep hidden.