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Entry tags:
A Mixed Bag of Tricks
Theme: Custom/Tradition - #34
Rating: G
Pairing: ZoSopp
Word Count: 663
Every day – come rain or wind or snow or brutal heat or the kind of weather that made the world seem just a little more wonderful – Zoro could be found on the aft deck up until lunch time. The swordsman had a strange tendency to get up almost as early as the chef, strange because if the green-haired pirate loved anything besides his blades it was surely sleep, and make his way across the still-cool wood to the rear of the ship. He always stretched before breakfast, limbering exercises that only Robin’s omnipresent eyes had ever seen, cerulean irises darkening in rare indulgent speculation that often led to a rather insistently pleasant wake-up for the navigator. And he would perform a series of balancing skills and poses, movements related to the flowing grace of the flag over his head rippling in the breeze.
After breakfast came still more training. Enormous weights that could – and had – been used as emergency anchors clunked with the solid sound of dense metal on metal as he swung, the muscles in his arms from biceps and triceps down through his forearms rippling and straining in stark relief. It was all about control, keeping the movements steady and unwavering; moving with the same refined speed while his body memorized the feeling, the motion. And, once he had lost his shirt and thrown in several thousand push-ups and crunches, the blades came out. Kata, different ones, so many variations mixed in with the two-dozen or so constants, that swept him across the length and breadth of the small space and attracted still more eyes. Finally, just like every other time, those precious extensions of himself were tended to, even before he saw to his body’s needs.
Like everyone else, Usopp found himself watching the swordsman practice his craft from time to time. There was no shame in admitting that Zoro’s movements were beautiful, made all the more so for the concentration, restraint, and implied violence that lay behind them. The lines he made, he and his shadow, made the sharpshooter’s fingers twitch and some nights he dreamt of sword dances and woke with the urgent need for paper and ink. But it was the aftermath, the quiet cleaning and honing of the blades that worked even more firmly into his own day.
He never asked, because the questions one was allowed to ask on the Going Merry had to be either utterly profound or profoundly stupid, but he could see and hear. Zoro’s eyes would close as he worked, hands falling into a gentle, steady rhythm, and it felt like waves of calm radiated from him as he dealt with the familiar, almost homey task. It was the centered, collected feeling that brought Usopp ever closer. The swordsman didn’t give off an air of peace but there was something relaxing about him, different from the lazy warmth his sleeping form projected. There was confidence in it, strength and belief, and the sniper treasured the feeling and soaked it in to try and bolster his own dodgy courage.
A habit that had formed almost from the very beginning, by the time the Straw Hats were on the Grand Line, Usopp could nearly always be found near Zoro when Sanji came to kick and cuss them in for lunch. They never spoke of it and the younger pirate eventually concluded that Zoro couldn’t mind since he hadn’t commented. As for the swordsman, as wrapped up as he was in the bright spirits of his swords, he didn’t fail to notice the other presence slowly increasing in strength and clarity. And when it began to lean towards his, flickering and lapping like the waves’ tentative caress of the shore at low tide, he didn’t pull back in on himself. It too became routine, comforting, and whenever Luffy managed to coax or yank Usopp away to play before that wondrous time of day known as lunch, Zoro put away his swords a little earlier.
Title: Vice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Hina/Tashigi
Word Count: 211
Theme: Addiction
No one was perfect but Hina liked to pretend she came pretty damn close. She only had three vices and only two she would admit to openly. Her cigarettes for one, and her need for amusement the other. She liked to be entertained, whether by her admittedly unusual choice of lieutenants, her detached harassment of one Captain Smoker, or by continuing with her eccentric speech pattern – the effects of which she often observed with secret glee. As for the third, she had no trouble acknowledging it to herself but confessing it aloud would never happen.
She made the most delicious noises, sounds Hina drank in like the finest confiscated wine. They were luxurious, silken when they weren’t soft and warm, a delectable mingling of innocence and carnality that could be spiced with slightly abashed debauchery when they were both allowed to indulge in darker things. Always pliant and so ready-to-please, trusting but not with military mindlessness. Tashigi could drive Hina to distraction and so she turned the tables and flustered her instead. It was sweet torture that they were so often oceans apart but Hina was occasionally grateful for the separate postings. If she could feed her cravings more regularly, she had a feeling the need would only grow ever stronger.
Rating: G
Pairing: ZoSopp
Word Count: 663
Every day – come rain or wind or snow or brutal heat or the kind of weather that made the world seem just a little more wonderful – Zoro could be found on the aft deck up until lunch time. The swordsman had a strange tendency to get up almost as early as the chef, strange because if the green-haired pirate loved anything besides his blades it was surely sleep, and make his way across the still-cool wood to the rear of the ship. He always stretched before breakfast, limbering exercises that only Robin’s omnipresent eyes had ever seen, cerulean irises darkening in rare indulgent speculation that often led to a rather insistently pleasant wake-up for the navigator. And he would perform a series of balancing skills and poses, movements related to the flowing grace of the flag over his head rippling in the breeze.
After breakfast came still more training. Enormous weights that could – and had – been used as emergency anchors clunked with the solid sound of dense metal on metal as he swung, the muscles in his arms from biceps and triceps down through his forearms rippling and straining in stark relief. It was all about control, keeping the movements steady and unwavering; moving with the same refined speed while his body memorized the feeling, the motion. And, once he had lost his shirt and thrown in several thousand push-ups and crunches, the blades came out. Kata, different ones, so many variations mixed in with the two-dozen or so constants, that swept him across the length and breadth of the small space and attracted still more eyes. Finally, just like every other time, those precious extensions of himself were tended to, even before he saw to his body’s needs.
Like everyone else, Usopp found himself watching the swordsman practice his craft from time to time. There was no shame in admitting that Zoro’s movements were beautiful, made all the more so for the concentration, restraint, and implied violence that lay behind them. The lines he made, he and his shadow, made the sharpshooter’s fingers twitch and some nights he dreamt of sword dances and woke with the urgent need for paper and ink. But it was the aftermath, the quiet cleaning and honing of the blades that worked even more firmly into his own day.
He never asked, because the questions one was allowed to ask on the Going Merry had to be either utterly profound or profoundly stupid, but he could see and hear. Zoro’s eyes would close as he worked, hands falling into a gentle, steady rhythm, and it felt like waves of calm radiated from him as he dealt with the familiar, almost homey task. It was the centered, collected feeling that brought Usopp ever closer. The swordsman didn’t give off an air of peace but there was something relaxing about him, different from the lazy warmth his sleeping form projected. There was confidence in it, strength and belief, and the sniper treasured the feeling and soaked it in to try and bolster his own dodgy courage.
A habit that had formed almost from the very beginning, by the time the Straw Hats were on the Grand Line, Usopp could nearly always be found near Zoro when Sanji came to kick and cuss them in for lunch. They never spoke of it and the younger pirate eventually concluded that Zoro couldn’t mind since he hadn’t commented. As for the swordsman, as wrapped up as he was in the bright spirits of his swords, he didn’t fail to notice the other presence slowly increasing in strength and clarity. And when it began to lean towards his, flickering and lapping like the waves’ tentative caress of the shore at low tide, he didn’t pull back in on himself. It too became routine, comforting, and whenever Luffy managed to coax or yank Usopp away to play before that wondrous time of day known as lunch, Zoro put away his swords a little earlier.
Title: Vice
Rating: PG
Pairing: Hina/Tashigi
Word Count: 211
Theme: Addiction
No one was perfect but Hina liked to pretend she came pretty damn close. She only had three vices and only two she would admit to openly. Her cigarettes for one, and her need for amusement the other. She liked to be entertained, whether by her admittedly unusual choice of lieutenants, her detached harassment of one Captain Smoker, or by continuing with her eccentric speech pattern – the effects of which she often observed with secret glee. As for the third, she had no trouble acknowledging it to herself but confessing it aloud would never happen.
She made the most delicious noises, sounds Hina drank in like the finest confiscated wine. They were luxurious, silken when they weren’t soft and warm, a delectable mingling of innocence and carnality that could be spiced with slightly abashed debauchery when they were both allowed to indulge in darker things. Always pliant and so ready-to-please, trusting but not with military mindlessness. Tashigi could drive Hina to distraction and so she turned the tables and flustered her instead. It was sweet torture that they were so often oceans apart but Hina was occasionally grateful for the separate postings. If she could feed her cravings more regularly, she had a feeling the need would only grow ever stronger.
no subject
As for the second. MMMM. I..I.. Well just MMMM.
no subject
I love your way with words and how you convey clear images by your lovely and almost poetic descriptions of the surroundings, characters and their behaviour.
All and all... I loved it and you are crazy for calling it crap you sillyhead!
no subject
He never asked, because the questions one was allowed to ask on the Going Merry had to be either utterly profound or profoundly stupid
because it does fit the crew so well. XD