Recent Chapter ficlet
Apr. 11th, 2012 07:31 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dethoratsTitle: Someone Else's Shoes...More or Less
Rating: G
Pairing: None/gen
Word Count: 1626
A/N: Spoilers through One Piece chapter 661
Prompt Courtesy Of:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
drcalvin FINALLY getting to these!
He's fast, really fast, and running on two legs suddenly feels smooth and natural and effortless. Chopper notices that first, along with the remarkable sense of balance. He's used to being top-heavy, to maneuvering his head with the weight and width of antlers. But at the moment his body feels comfortable and at ease despite the headlong pace, as if it knows exactly where every last inch of itself exists in time and space.
The tightness in his lungs and the unfamiliar taste at the back of his tongue assert themselves next, along with the unexpected curtain of blond hair over one keen eye and a sudden loss of all the scent data he usually finds around him. He can smell his nakama, but only barely - just Nami's perfume and Franky's oiled gears and the musky damp smell of his own fur. None of the subtle odors he's used to, that he finds comforting, and his chest constricts and, while it really isn't very hard, the air doesn't come into his lungs as easily as it should.
Chopper glances down the line of body much taller than he usually is and far leaner, feels coiled strength and well-toned muscle and the building toll that years of smoking are already making. This is Sanji's body and it's in pretty good shape but when they get out of here, he's going to have a long talk with the chef about the dangers of cigarettes. In the meantime, he has a feeling the moves he developed for kung-fu point are going to work just as well with Sanji's body. He makes another mental note to be careful of the hands.
The ground is unaccountably close and he's light, so light and free, actually bounding as he runs. There are rich smells all around, tempting him, almost overwhelming actually, because Franky hasn't smelled properly in over a decade, not since he tested his strength against the Sea Train and lost. There's so much sensory input, from each strand of fur waving in the wind to the individual heartbeats of his nakama that he can hear, and it's no wonder the little guy became a doctor. He's a natural, body tailor-made for picking up on the nuanced clues the human form can leave for illness; a design out of nature that Franky really couldn't improve upon.
It's pretty SUPER to be in Chopper's body, the one that's so different from his own. He can feel inherent strength and a strange prickling at the back of his neck, a tickle low in his belly. Is this what it feels like to have a devil's fruit? To be able to transform at will without the aid of machinery and clever tricks? He wants to try, to put Chopper's body through its paces just like the way the doctor couldn't resist testing out different drinks on him even though they were in the midst of Enies Lobby. Danger isn't exactly a brake for people like him and the doctor, too curious for their own good sometimes.
There's one danger Franky's not stupid enough to risk, though, and he makes a point of reminding himself to stay away from water. Reindeer-bro can't swim and at the moment that means HE can't swim. In the meantime, he lets out a loud whoop, the words his own but the voice totally high and cute, and leaps into the air because he can, because he feels free of the gravity that tends to keep him so close to the ground. Cotton candy, the freedom of clouds, sounds good about now and he finally gets why his nakama likes it so much. Once he's back in his own body, he'll have to give it a go.
She's tall and abruptly heavy, almost ponderous. Nami is suddenly aware of her body in a way that's not normal, not natural at all. She can actually feel the rush of blood in her veins and it's fizzing, bubbling. That's freaky and weird and maybe even inhuman and she bites back a shout, her teeth far too strong against a too-thin lip and the well of sound in her throat far too deep. The air is cold against her skin but not as cold as she's expecting, but the wind brushes against her legs in a way that it shouldn't. There's more, cool air blowing across too much sensitive skin for THAT particular area, and Nami does gasp, finally, and can literally feel the breath being forced - bellows-like - from her lungs.
It's Franky's body, she realizes, as she looks down at bare feet and a massive chest, feels the force of each step digging into the ground. Her bodily spatial awareness is so much wider and so much of this form seems too apparent, too directly present in her mind. It's a disturbing realization and a little hand pops out of the big one before she really knows what she's doing, reaches up to touch a face. She's conscious of the hand on a cheek, can feel it like she would in her own body, but the hand…the hand is different. There's the texture of skin and the scrape of stubble, the sensation of pressure, and a hint of temperature, but the hand isn't telling her brain the same things the cheek is.
How, she wonders, does Franky live like this? Nami already feels overwhelmed, swamped in data, and finally she takes a deep breath, decides to treat this body like a storm front, let her instincts take over. She's got good intuition and Franky is a walking one-man army. If she has to fight, at least she's in a body made out of metal. But if she's in Franky, who's in her body, she has to wonder, letting her mind slip free so that Franky's frame stops fighting her and reacts instead to the simple electric impulse commands from her hindbrain, running and surviving. She can hear the word "SUPER!" in Chopper's high voice, locating the man whose body she's now occupying. And then Sanji, on her other side, is making those crazy noises and swiping with his arms as he runs, which is what the reindeer was doing when fighting earlier. Which means that Sanji must be...!
His footing is off, ever so slightly, and that doesn't make sense since he's trained hard to have perfect balance, the muscle control necessary to fight the way he does. Even though he feels a bit unsteady, the sensation is not entirely unfamiliar and he can almost feel the memory rising, an unwanted intrusion of nightmare into an already unusual dream. It's high heels, that's what it is, this wobbly sensation like his ankles don't have enough support and so much pressure on his toes. He's running in high heels and he managed to endure that only twice during his entire time in the Kamabakka Kingdom for good reason. Those things are killer on the feet. But if he's wearing high heels...
Sanji looks down, has to do a double take. Because yes, he's wearing heels and a bikini top and decidedly feminine jeans and that's long hair cascading over his shoulders but, most importantly, that's LEGITIMATE cleavage he's gazing into. His mind floods with hearts and he chokes out a "mellorine" in dulcet tones and the body he's in somehow successfully resists the nosebleed he senses should be gushing from perfect nostrils. Somehow, probably thanks to the strong will, to the strength that's a little surprising except not really that he can feel coursing through the limbs he controls but doesn't own, he manages to stay conscious, upright, and with all the blood safely inside. This is NAMI-SWAN's body and he's in it!
The idea is enough to nearly make him swoon again and the start of a lecherous smile curls full lips before Sanji manages to get hold of himself. It is Nami-swan's body and he IS in it. Which means it's his responsibility to do whatever he can to protect it, keep it safe until Nami's entirely back inside of it and he's in some other body and can keep performing the same role. Except, Nami-swan is his delicate flower (never mind that he can feel the trained power in the limbs as he runs - wearing heels no less - and the surprising stability of the core muscles beneath sleek skin) and she shouldn't fight but if he gets cornered, he can't let Nami-swan's body get injured either...
"Sanji-kun!" Franky calls out, and the incongruity makes him tilt his head, the gorgeous fall of tangerine hair distracting as it swishes over bare flesh. "I expect everything to be just as I left it when I get back there, you understand?!" And it registers that Nami-swan is in Franky's abnormal cyborg body and Sanji's just the tiniest bit disappointed his mellorine wasn't ensconced in something a little nicer, like the fine figure of a chef running between them. But he's got his orders now and he replies back with a "Yes, Nami-swan!" in the his beloved navigator's own voice.
Sanji takes a deep breath and a tiny fraction of a moment to appreciate the heave of those bosoms from his new perspective as he keeps on running. Zeff always said there was no point in inviting trouble and he'll face those issues if and when he has to. In the meantime, he needs to get Nami-swan AND her body to safety. The four of them need to sort out what to do next, how to deal with whatever's happened. They'll manage, somehow, because the Strawhats always do, and once this adventure's over, Sanji's going to have an even better appreciation for his mellorine. He just knows it.
Rating: G
Pairing: None/gen
Word Count: 1626
A/N: Spoilers through One Piece chapter 661
Prompt Courtesy Of:
drcalvin FINALLY getting to these!He's fast, really fast, and running on two legs suddenly feels smooth and natural and effortless. Chopper notices that first, along with the remarkable sense of balance. He's used to being top-heavy, to maneuvering his head with the weight and width of antlers. But at the moment his body feels comfortable and at ease despite the headlong pace, as if it knows exactly where every last inch of itself exists in time and space.
The tightness in his lungs and the unfamiliar taste at the back of his tongue assert themselves next, along with the unexpected curtain of blond hair over one keen eye and a sudden loss of all the scent data he usually finds around him. He can smell his nakama, but only barely - just Nami's perfume and Franky's oiled gears and the musky damp smell of his own fur. None of the subtle odors he's used to, that he finds comforting, and his chest constricts and, while it really isn't very hard, the air doesn't come into his lungs as easily as it should.
Chopper glances down the line of body much taller than he usually is and far leaner, feels coiled strength and well-toned muscle and the building toll that years of smoking are already making. This is Sanji's body and it's in pretty good shape but when they get out of here, he's going to have a long talk with the chef about the dangers of cigarettes. In the meantime, he has a feeling the moves he developed for kung-fu point are going to work just as well with Sanji's body. He makes another mental note to be careful of the hands.
The ground is unaccountably close and he's light, so light and free, actually bounding as he runs. There are rich smells all around, tempting him, almost overwhelming actually, because Franky hasn't smelled properly in over a decade, not since he tested his strength against the Sea Train and lost. There's so much sensory input, from each strand of fur waving in the wind to the individual heartbeats of his nakama that he can hear, and it's no wonder the little guy became a doctor. He's a natural, body tailor-made for picking up on the nuanced clues the human form can leave for illness; a design out of nature that Franky really couldn't improve upon.
It's pretty SUPER to be in Chopper's body, the one that's so different from his own. He can feel inherent strength and a strange prickling at the back of his neck, a tickle low in his belly. Is this what it feels like to have a devil's fruit? To be able to transform at will without the aid of machinery and clever tricks? He wants to try, to put Chopper's body through its paces just like the way the doctor couldn't resist testing out different drinks on him even though they were in the midst of Enies Lobby. Danger isn't exactly a brake for people like him and the doctor, too curious for their own good sometimes.
There's one danger Franky's not stupid enough to risk, though, and he makes a point of reminding himself to stay away from water. Reindeer-bro can't swim and at the moment that means HE can't swim. In the meantime, he lets out a loud whoop, the words his own but the voice totally high and cute, and leaps into the air because he can, because he feels free of the gravity that tends to keep him so close to the ground. Cotton candy, the freedom of clouds, sounds good about now and he finally gets why his nakama likes it so much. Once he's back in his own body, he'll have to give it a go.
She's tall and abruptly heavy, almost ponderous. Nami is suddenly aware of her body in a way that's not normal, not natural at all. She can actually feel the rush of blood in her veins and it's fizzing, bubbling. That's freaky and weird and maybe even inhuman and she bites back a shout, her teeth far too strong against a too-thin lip and the well of sound in her throat far too deep. The air is cold against her skin but not as cold as she's expecting, but the wind brushes against her legs in a way that it shouldn't. There's more, cool air blowing across too much sensitive skin for THAT particular area, and Nami does gasp, finally, and can literally feel the breath being forced - bellows-like - from her lungs.
It's Franky's body, she realizes, as she looks down at bare feet and a massive chest, feels the force of each step digging into the ground. Her bodily spatial awareness is so much wider and so much of this form seems too apparent, too directly present in her mind. It's a disturbing realization and a little hand pops out of the big one before she really knows what she's doing, reaches up to touch a face. She's conscious of the hand on a cheek, can feel it like she would in her own body, but the hand…the hand is different. There's the texture of skin and the scrape of stubble, the sensation of pressure, and a hint of temperature, but the hand isn't telling her brain the same things the cheek is.
How, she wonders, does Franky live like this? Nami already feels overwhelmed, swamped in data, and finally she takes a deep breath, decides to treat this body like a storm front, let her instincts take over. She's got good intuition and Franky is a walking one-man army. If she has to fight, at least she's in a body made out of metal. But if she's in Franky, who's in her body, she has to wonder, letting her mind slip free so that Franky's frame stops fighting her and reacts instead to the simple electric impulse commands from her hindbrain, running and surviving. She can hear the word "SUPER!" in Chopper's high voice, locating the man whose body she's now occupying. And then Sanji, on her other side, is making those crazy noises and swiping with his arms as he runs, which is what the reindeer was doing when fighting earlier. Which means that Sanji must be...!
His footing is off, ever so slightly, and that doesn't make sense since he's trained hard to have perfect balance, the muscle control necessary to fight the way he does. Even though he feels a bit unsteady, the sensation is not entirely unfamiliar and he can almost feel the memory rising, an unwanted intrusion of nightmare into an already unusual dream. It's high heels, that's what it is, this wobbly sensation like his ankles don't have enough support and so much pressure on his toes. He's running in high heels and he managed to endure that only twice during his entire time in the Kamabakka Kingdom for good reason. Those things are killer on the feet. But if he's wearing high heels...
Sanji looks down, has to do a double take. Because yes, he's wearing heels and a bikini top and decidedly feminine jeans and that's long hair cascading over his shoulders but, most importantly, that's LEGITIMATE cleavage he's gazing into. His mind floods with hearts and he chokes out a "mellorine" in dulcet tones and the body he's in somehow successfully resists the nosebleed he senses should be gushing from perfect nostrils. Somehow, probably thanks to the strong will, to the strength that's a little surprising except not really that he can feel coursing through the limbs he controls but doesn't own, he manages to stay conscious, upright, and with all the blood safely inside. This is NAMI-SWAN's body and he's in it!
The idea is enough to nearly make him swoon again and the start of a lecherous smile curls full lips before Sanji manages to get hold of himself. It is Nami-swan's body and he IS in it. Which means it's his responsibility to do whatever he can to protect it, keep it safe until Nami's entirely back inside of it and he's in some other body and can keep performing the same role. Except, Nami-swan is his delicate flower (never mind that he can feel the trained power in the limbs as he runs - wearing heels no less - and the surprising stability of the core muscles beneath sleek skin) and she shouldn't fight but if he gets cornered, he can't let Nami-swan's body get injured either...
"Sanji-kun!" Franky calls out, and the incongruity makes him tilt his head, the gorgeous fall of tangerine hair distracting as it swishes over bare flesh. "I expect everything to be just as I left it when I get back there, you understand?!" And it registers that Nami-swan is in Franky's abnormal cyborg body and Sanji's just the tiniest bit disappointed his mellorine wasn't ensconced in something a little nicer, like the fine figure of a chef running between them. But he's got his orders now and he replies back with a "Yes, Nami-swan!" in the his beloved navigator's own voice.
Sanji takes a deep breath and a tiny fraction of a moment to appreciate the heave of those bosoms from his new perspective as he keeps on running. Zeff always said there was no point in inviting trouble and he'll face those issues if and when he has to. In the meantime, he needs to get Nami-swan AND her body to safety. The four of them need to sort out what to do next, how to deal with whatever's happened. They'll manage, somehow, because the Strawhats always do, and once this adventure's over, Sanji's going to have an even better appreciation for his mellorine. He just knows it.
