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Some more drabbles
More song inspired drabbles. Have at.
Title: My Kind of Man
Rating: PG for language
Pairing: ZoSan
Word Count: 300
“Hurry up, love-blinded idiot!” Zoro thumped his fist once more on the bathroom door, rattled the knob for good measure. “You’ve been in there for twenty minutes already and I gotta take a piss.”
The swordsman couldn’t hear any water running and he knew that Sanji had scouted a proper restaurant for that evening. Something with more than three utensils and actual linen on the tables. A place where they only served wine and that cheap bubbly excuse for alcohol that called itself champagne. The chef had proffered flowers, white iris for Robin and tiger lillies for the witch, bending so low afterwards over their hands as he babbled out his invitation that Zoro couldn’t help but have his attention captured.
His remarks – anything with a name containing more vowels and silent letters than good, solid consonants had to be of the sissy sort – were met with a sneer and several disparagements of his upbringing. It was enough to bring him to his feet, fists balled and ready, but the damn love cook sidestepped the issue and told him wasn’t invited anyway. Zoro almost felt sorry for Usopp. Almost. But if it got him out of a tie and watching the blond bastard simpering all night, then babysitting Luffy and Chopper was a cheap price to pay for a night of freedom from curly-eyebrowed morons. If only the pansy would hurry up and leave already…
His bladder was going to burst and Zoro raised a hand to hammer on the door again when it swung open and he nearly caught the chef in the face. It was the reek of cologne, he told the captain later, that let Sanji neatly clip him in the ribs with a well-polished heel and had absolutely nothing to do with form-fitting red silk shirts.
Inspired by No Doubt's Bathwater
You and your museum of lovers
The precious collection you’ve housed in your covers
My simpleness threatened by my own admission
And the bags are much too heavy
In my insecure condition
My pregnant mind is fat full with envy again
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I can’t help it…you’re my kind of man
Wanted and adored by attractive women
Bountiful selection at your discretion
I know I’m diving into my own destruction
So why do we choose the boys that are naughty?
I don’t fit in so why do you want me?
And I know I can’t tame you…but I just keep trying
‘Cause I love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I’m on you list with all your other women
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
You make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it…you’re my kind of man
Why do the good girls always want the bad boys?
So I pacify problems with kisses and cuddles
Diligently doubtful through all kinds of trouble
Then I find myself choking on all my contradictions
‘Cause I love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
Share a toothbrush…you’re my kind of man
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it…you’re my kind of man
No I can’t help myself
I can’t help myself
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Title: Every Morning
Rating: G
Pairing: Shanks and Ben
Word Count: 324
Sunrise again. It was always sunrise with them. Shanks muttered the last sentence of an already forgotten conversation into the skin-warm pillow beneath his cheek. The dream was gone, lost to a muzzy wakefulness, and he kept his eyes closed and groped across the mattress after Ben’s retreating form. Calloused fingers caught and clung for a moment on well-worn flannel, closed ineffectually on only themselves when the older man reached the edge of the bed and swung his legs out from under the blanket. A thread of cold air wound through the heated cavern of the covers, tickled his thighs and made him grunt and bury his head under his arm. He stayed hidden, ostrich-like in his stubborn resistance, until he heard the familiar click of the lighter striking and caught the first whiff of tobacco.
The mattress flattened as Ben stood, rocked him just a little, and Shanks sighed against his bicep and kicked his way free before the other pirate decided to leave without him. It was chilly outside the coccoon of the bed and the redhead danced from foot to foot, hopping awkwardly across the cabin to where his robe and cloak were tossed over a chair. Grumbling about crazy insomniacs who would sleep better and not drag their captains out of bed if they would just take up nudity earned him a quiet snort and an extra layer as the first mate snagged the quilt off the end of the bed.
Dawn crested the waves, the sun burnishing the tips of the waves and the sweep of high clouds, and Shanks leaned into the warmth of the body at his side and smiled. Ben often told him he didn’t have to watch but he was always restless in the suddenly too-large bed. Going along meant Ben came back faster and, really, it was impossible to go to back to sleep unhappy after sharing the daily miracle of sunrise at sea.
Inspired by L'Arc en Ciel's The Fourth Avenue Cafe
I have the lyrics but honestly I didn't pay any attention to them. I don't speak nearly enough Japanese to be able to understand this song and it's just the MOOD of it that has always always made me think of them.
Title: Future to Past
Rating: G
Pairing: Mihawk/Zoro
Word Count: 300
Out of a dozen fateful meetings, one hundred, a thousand, maybe more or maybe less because they blurred together in an endless highway of ocean, steel, and blood, that one stuck with him. It haunted his waking hours, dogged his dreams, and he picked every detail apart until it was threadbare and he had to spin it whole again. Brash and bold and young – though not the youngest, no – and full of promise. Of promises as it turned out, to the dead and to the living and to the in-between body holding his own soul. In spite of the endless blue around them, over and under, and of the crimson that had stained his life since his hand first closed around the black blade of his heart, it was the gold and the green that he remembered.
Gold glinted, reflections mirrored between the cross on his chest, the drops that hung like tears from the boy’s ears, his own tawny name-giving eyes. The steel caught it too, the white blade alone able to hold, turn it into streaks of sunfire his own sword drank in and swallowed. And his hair…as green as the stubborn clinging moss that grew ancient and slow on the peaks where he’d learned his trade. The eyes too, but they had a fire all their own, shimmering with an inner light that was more than just determination.
He’d offered a chance, one of so few that he could count the others on his fingers, and left it up to the boy. And he hadn’t been disappointed. Roronoa Zoro had lived, was keeping all of his promises and blazing down the Grand Line with a speed that left him breathless. Soon they would meet again and this time he did not know who would be the winner.
Inspired by Dream Theater's Pull Me Under
Lost in the sky
Clouds roll by
and I roll with them
Arrows fly
Seas increase
and then fall again
This world is spinning around me
This world is spinning without me
Every day send future to past
Every breath leaves me one less
to my last
Watch the sparrow falling
Gives new meaning to it all
If not today nor yet tomorrow
then some other day
I'll take seven lives for one
And then my only father's son
As sure as I did ever love him
I am not afraid
This world is spinning around me
The whole world keeps
spinning around me
All life is future to past
Every breath leaves me one less
to my last
Pull me under Pull me under
Pull me under I'm not afraid
All that I feel is honor and spite
All I can do is set it right
Dust fills my eyes
Clouds roll by
and I roll with them
Centuries cry
Orders fly
and I fall again
This world is spinning inside me
The whole world is
spinning inside of me
Every day sends future to past
Every step brings me closer
to my last
Pull me under Pull me under
Pull me under I'm not afraid
Living my life too much in
the sun
Only until your will is done
Title: Past to Future
Rating: G
Pairing: Zoro/Mihawk
Word Count: 300
Water fell, cool and clean as if even the heavens wept at the sight. The din had quieted; the clash of weapons changed to muted murmurs of thanks and disbelief. There in the alley, with his nakama around him, he sank down to rest on damp cobblestones. His swords he kept in the crook of his arm in spite of how heavy they suddenly seemed. Weariness bore down, crushing with its promise of sleep, but his mind was not quite able to rest.
He had done it, achieved the sword that cut nothing, and broke an entire man made of hard-forged steel edges as a result. Victory should have made him happy but all he could think about, all he could see when he stopped fighting the weight of his eyelids, was the fall of a black blade surrounded by sparks of gold. His chest ached, blood falling freely to mingle with the rainwater, but it wasn’t the open wounds that hurt. The scar that marked where the world’s greatest swordsman had nearly split him in two throbbed in time with his heartbeat, pulsed to the breath of the world that had entered him when her blade succeeded in not cutting the leaf. Was it possible the other listened to that sound even now, had heard the impossilbly loud clamor of steel against unmarked foliage and the whisper of sword splitting sword?
Sitting there soaking up rain like a growing thing, the idea sparked an ember of warmth and pride in his chest. He was getting stronger. He was winning. He was keeping his promises. Waiting somewhere was the man with golden hawk eyes and a sword that had meant death and granted life instead. It was only a matter of time and he fell asleep cradled in that knowledge.
Inspired by Masterplan's Wounds
I have walked this road before
So hard to find unopened doors
Lost my way but i have to stay for a while
I'll be searching for more
And my wounds are real
I must rise from the sorrow
And find my way out of the dark
I've cried my tears from pain
There's a new day tomorrow
I'll turn the hourglass again
Feel and trust your inner voice
Chase your dream with desire
Show the scars you've been hiding deep inside
And reveal who you are
Cause your wounds are real
You must rise from the sorrow
And find your way out of the dark
Cry your tears from pain
Face a new day tomorrow
And turn the hourglass again... yeah
And my wounds are real
I must rise from the sorrow
And find my way out of the dark
I've cried my tears from pain
There's a new day tomorrow
I'll turn the hourglass again
Cry your tears from pain
Face a new day tomorrow
We'll turn the hourglass again
Title: Being There
Rating: G
Pairing: Pure Nakamaship
Word Count: 141
Together, a team even when there were merely words and not everything that always followed after to bind them. Rubber fists, gleaming steel, swirling weather, speeding bullets, flying feet, tossing horns, and a garden of limbs all moved in tandem, sent tyranny and oppression flying and left joy and peace in their wake. A navel base, a town, a small island, a country, a whole realm, maybe someday the entire world, all changed for the better when they left. The bounty sheets, the flag, the name, everything pointed at Luffy and indeed he was the heart of it all. But the captain of the Straw Hat pirates would have been the very first to say his victories were all thanks to his nakama even while pointing fingers and knowing eyes and laughing voices placed the blame squarely back on his shoulders.
Inspired by Megadeth's I'll Be There
I heard the voice of redemption
For me there is no exemption
I started praying
I heard the voice of satisfaction
Needing me for benefaction
I started pleading
I heard the bells begin to chime
Warning me oh lord
Don't let this be my time
Don't let this be my time
I'll be there for you, when you walk through the fire
I'll be there for you, when the flames get higher
When nothing fits and nothing seems right
Till the very last breath of my life, I'll be there for you
You saw me slide, you saw me fall
We kept our pride through it all
We started screaming
When skies are dark, no sun shines through
I know I see the light in you
We stopped dreaming and started believing
I'll be there for you, when you walk through the fire
I'll be there for you, when the flames get higher
When nothing fits and nothing seems right
Till the very last breath of my life, I'll be there for you
I'll be there
In my hour of need
You were there always
Now it's time for me to be there for you too
Always
I'll be there for you
Title: My Kind of Man
Rating: PG for language
Pairing: ZoSan
Word Count: 300
“Hurry up, love-blinded idiot!” Zoro thumped his fist once more on the bathroom door, rattled the knob for good measure. “You’ve been in there for twenty minutes already and I gotta take a piss.”
The swordsman couldn’t hear any water running and he knew that Sanji had scouted a proper restaurant for that evening. Something with more than three utensils and actual linen on the tables. A place where they only served wine and that cheap bubbly excuse for alcohol that called itself champagne. The chef had proffered flowers, white iris for Robin and tiger lillies for the witch, bending so low afterwards over their hands as he babbled out his invitation that Zoro couldn’t help but have his attention captured.
His remarks – anything with a name containing more vowels and silent letters than good, solid consonants had to be of the sissy sort – were met with a sneer and several disparagements of his upbringing. It was enough to bring him to his feet, fists balled and ready, but the damn love cook sidestepped the issue and told him wasn’t invited anyway. Zoro almost felt sorry for Usopp. Almost. But if it got him out of a tie and watching the blond bastard simpering all night, then babysitting Luffy and Chopper was a cheap price to pay for a night of freedom from curly-eyebrowed morons. If only the pansy would hurry up and leave already…
His bladder was going to burst and Zoro raised a hand to hammer on the door again when it swung open and he nearly caught the chef in the face. It was the reek of cologne, he told the captain later, that let Sanji neatly clip him in the ribs with a well-polished heel and had absolutely nothing to do with form-fitting red silk shirts.
Inspired by No Doubt's Bathwater
You and your museum of lovers
The precious collection you’ve housed in your covers
My simpleness threatened by my own admission
And the bags are much too heavy
In my insecure condition
My pregnant mind is fat full with envy again
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I can’t help it…you’re my kind of man
Wanted and adored by attractive women
Bountiful selection at your discretion
I know I’m diving into my own destruction
So why do we choose the boys that are naughty?
I don’t fit in so why do you want me?
And I know I can’t tame you…but I just keep trying
‘Cause I love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
I’m on you list with all your other women
But I still love to wash in your old bathwater
You make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it…you’re my kind of man
Why do the good girls always want the bad boys?
So I pacify problems with kisses and cuddles
Diligently doubtful through all kinds of trouble
Then I find myself choking on all my contradictions
‘Cause I love to wash in your old bathwater
Love to think that you couldn’t love another
Share a toothbrush…you’re my kind of man
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Make me feel like I couldn’t love another
I can’t help it…you’re my kind of man
No I can’t help myself
I can’t help myself
I still love to wash in your old bathwater
Title: Every Morning
Rating: G
Pairing: Shanks and Ben
Word Count: 324
Sunrise again. It was always sunrise with them. Shanks muttered the last sentence of an already forgotten conversation into the skin-warm pillow beneath his cheek. The dream was gone, lost to a muzzy wakefulness, and he kept his eyes closed and groped across the mattress after Ben’s retreating form. Calloused fingers caught and clung for a moment on well-worn flannel, closed ineffectually on only themselves when the older man reached the edge of the bed and swung his legs out from under the blanket. A thread of cold air wound through the heated cavern of the covers, tickled his thighs and made him grunt and bury his head under his arm. He stayed hidden, ostrich-like in his stubborn resistance, until he heard the familiar click of the lighter striking and caught the first whiff of tobacco.
The mattress flattened as Ben stood, rocked him just a little, and Shanks sighed against his bicep and kicked his way free before the other pirate decided to leave without him. It was chilly outside the coccoon of the bed and the redhead danced from foot to foot, hopping awkwardly across the cabin to where his robe and cloak were tossed over a chair. Grumbling about crazy insomniacs who would sleep better and not drag their captains out of bed if they would just take up nudity earned him a quiet snort and an extra layer as the first mate snagged the quilt off the end of the bed.
Dawn crested the waves, the sun burnishing the tips of the waves and the sweep of high clouds, and Shanks leaned into the warmth of the body at his side and smiled. Ben often told him he didn’t have to watch but he was always restless in the suddenly too-large bed. Going along meant Ben came back faster and, really, it was impossible to go to back to sleep unhappy after sharing the daily miracle of sunrise at sea.
Inspired by L'Arc en Ciel's The Fourth Avenue Cafe
I have the lyrics but honestly I didn't pay any attention to them. I don't speak nearly enough Japanese to be able to understand this song and it's just the MOOD of it that has always always made me think of them.
Title: Future to Past
Rating: G
Pairing: Mihawk/Zoro
Word Count: 300
Out of a dozen fateful meetings, one hundred, a thousand, maybe more or maybe less because they blurred together in an endless highway of ocean, steel, and blood, that one stuck with him. It haunted his waking hours, dogged his dreams, and he picked every detail apart until it was threadbare and he had to spin it whole again. Brash and bold and young – though not the youngest, no – and full of promise. Of promises as it turned out, to the dead and to the living and to the in-between body holding his own soul. In spite of the endless blue around them, over and under, and of the crimson that had stained his life since his hand first closed around the black blade of his heart, it was the gold and the green that he remembered.
Gold glinted, reflections mirrored between the cross on his chest, the drops that hung like tears from the boy’s ears, his own tawny name-giving eyes. The steel caught it too, the white blade alone able to hold, turn it into streaks of sunfire his own sword drank in and swallowed. And his hair…as green as the stubborn clinging moss that grew ancient and slow on the peaks where he’d learned his trade. The eyes too, but they had a fire all their own, shimmering with an inner light that was more than just determination.
He’d offered a chance, one of so few that he could count the others on his fingers, and left it up to the boy. And he hadn’t been disappointed. Roronoa Zoro had lived, was keeping all of his promises and blazing down the Grand Line with a speed that left him breathless. Soon they would meet again and this time he did not know who would be the winner.
Inspired by Dream Theater's Pull Me Under
Lost in the sky
Clouds roll by
and I roll with them
Arrows fly
Seas increase
and then fall again
This world is spinning around me
This world is spinning without me
Every day send future to past
Every breath leaves me one less
to my last
Watch the sparrow falling
Gives new meaning to it all
If not today nor yet tomorrow
then some other day
I'll take seven lives for one
And then my only father's son
As sure as I did ever love him
I am not afraid
This world is spinning around me
The whole world keeps
spinning around me
All life is future to past
Every breath leaves me one less
to my last
Pull me under Pull me under
Pull me under I'm not afraid
All that I feel is honor and spite
All I can do is set it right
Dust fills my eyes
Clouds roll by
and I roll with them
Centuries cry
Orders fly
and I fall again
This world is spinning inside me
The whole world is
spinning inside of me
Every day sends future to past
Every step brings me closer
to my last
Pull me under Pull me under
Pull me under I'm not afraid
Living my life too much in
the sun
Only until your will is done
Title: Past to Future
Rating: G
Pairing: Zoro/Mihawk
Word Count: 300
Water fell, cool and clean as if even the heavens wept at the sight. The din had quieted; the clash of weapons changed to muted murmurs of thanks and disbelief. There in the alley, with his nakama around him, he sank down to rest on damp cobblestones. His swords he kept in the crook of his arm in spite of how heavy they suddenly seemed. Weariness bore down, crushing with its promise of sleep, but his mind was not quite able to rest.
He had done it, achieved the sword that cut nothing, and broke an entire man made of hard-forged steel edges as a result. Victory should have made him happy but all he could think about, all he could see when he stopped fighting the weight of his eyelids, was the fall of a black blade surrounded by sparks of gold. His chest ached, blood falling freely to mingle with the rainwater, but it wasn’t the open wounds that hurt. The scar that marked where the world’s greatest swordsman had nearly split him in two throbbed in time with his heartbeat, pulsed to the breath of the world that had entered him when her blade succeeded in not cutting the leaf. Was it possible the other listened to that sound even now, had heard the impossilbly loud clamor of steel against unmarked foliage and the whisper of sword splitting sword?
Sitting there soaking up rain like a growing thing, the idea sparked an ember of warmth and pride in his chest. He was getting stronger. He was winning. He was keeping his promises. Waiting somewhere was the man with golden hawk eyes and a sword that had meant death and granted life instead. It was only a matter of time and he fell asleep cradled in that knowledge.
Inspired by Masterplan's Wounds
I have walked this road before
So hard to find unopened doors
Lost my way but i have to stay for a while
I'll be searching for more
And my wounds are real
I must rise from the sorrow
And find my way out of the dark
I've cried my tears from pain
There's a new day tomorrow
I'll turn the hourglass again
Feel and trust your inner voice
Chase your dream with desire
Show the scars you've been hiding deep inside
And reveal who you are
Cause your wounds are real
You must rise from the sorrow
And find your way out of the dark
Cry your tears from pain
Face a new day tomorrow
And turn the hourglass again... yeah
And my wounds are real
I must rise from the sorrow
And find my way out of the dark
I've cried my tears from pain
There's a new day tomorrow
I'll turn the hourglass again
Cry your tears from pain
Face a new day tomorrow
We'll turn the hourglass again
Title: Being There
Rating: G
Pairing: Pure Nakamaship
Word Count: 141
Together, a team even when there were merely words and not everything that always followed after to bind them. Rubber fists, gleaming steel, swirling weather, speeding bullets, flying feet, tossing horns, and a garden of limbs all moved in tandem, sent tyranny and oppression flying and left joy and peace in their wake. A navel base, a town, a small island, a country, a whole realm, maybe someday the entire world, all changed for the better when they left. The bounty sheets, the flag, the name, everything pointed at Luffy and indeed he was the heart of it all. But the captain of the Straw Hat pirates would have been the very first to say his victories were all thanks to his nakama even while pointing fingers and knowing eyes and laughing voices placed the blame squarely back on his shoulders.
Inspired by Megadeth's I'll Be There
I heard the voice of redemption
For me there is no exemption
I started praying
I heard the voice of satisfaction
Needing me for benefaction
I started pleading
I heard the bells begin to chime
Warning me oh lord
Don't let this be my time
Don't let this be my time
I'll be there for you, when you walk through the fire
I'll be there for you, when the flames get higher
When nothing fits and nothing seems right
Till the very last breath of my life, I'll be there for you
You saw me slide, you saw me fall
We kept our pride through it all
We started screaming
When skies are dark, no sun shines through
I know I see the light in you
We stopped dreaming and started believing
I'll be there for you, when you walk through the fire
I'll be there for you, when the flames get higher
When nothing fits and nothing seems right
Till the very last breath of my life, I'll be there for you
I'll be there
In my hour of need
You were there always
Now it's time for me to be there for you too
Always
I'll be there for you
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...so much for being unproductive YOU LYING WHORE. ;__;no subject
I've been making noncommittal noises too many times on too many posts today.These were all so awesome wtf hate. T__T; I liked the Ben/Shanks one and I don't even like that pairing. And haha it's so true about what you say. I have a bunch of jap songs on my playlist and I've no idea what the hell they're saying but the mood. I could just listen to the mood and rhythm and the foreign tongue all day. Somehow it's just so much better that you don't understand the lyrics because then the song speaks for itself. ♥Also, the second Zoro/Mihawk one? MADE ME MELT. *puddles* Arghargh the introspection is so lovely. Sitting there soaking up rain like a growing thing, the idea sparked an ember of warmth and pride in his chest. He was getting stronger. Lovely.
Although growing thing initially made me think of those cheap vending machine toy things where you soak them in water and they swell like mothers. XD;;; ......AND THE LAST ONE WINS SO VERY MUCH. ;______________; THE LAST LINE. HRRRRRRNGH. ♥ ♥ ♥ ♥
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End of message