I spoke LIES.
Aug. 27th, 2006 01:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chibi_trillianI meant to do drabbles this weekend. I wound up writing one thing that's like, uh, eight and a quarter drabbles long. Sorry. ;_;
Title: Drawing Out
Series: One Piece.
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13 for implications.
Summary: Sanji and Zoro: Study of a Dysfunctional Relationship, by Great Artist Usopp. Crossposted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
onepieceyaoi.
Sharp lines, acute angles.
The two of them have been fighting since Sanji set foot on board. The manly men, throwing steel-edged words at each other so fast that the emotional sparks fall like rain. Usopp watches them sparring and twisting and spitting at each other, fingers moving over the sketchpad nearly as fast as whirling blades and flying feet, soft scrape of pencil underlining the noisy combat.
Light and shadow, chiaroscuro on the page.
Sanji’s hair shines in the sun as he shouts, his face flushed and twisted. Too far, too far this time, vitriolic invective finding chinks in thick testosterone armor, and darkness covers rich verdancy and the snowy hilt of Zoro’s favorite blade slips between his teeth. Usopp knows he should break it up, that this time means business, but he’s afraid to reach in and try to snap the razor-wire threads that bind them together. He screams for Luffy instead, dropping his half-finished study of a swordsman at rest.
Void space, delineating and vast.
Something happened last night. The two of them are carefully maintaining their respective kinespheres, the thousand casual violations of personal space that they regularly engage in abolished under some new law between them. Sanji’s shoulders are tense as he cuts vegetables, and Zoro’s movements as he washes dishes are hesitant and uncertain. The space between them is heavy and dark, filled with something unspoken and slick with blood and tears. Usopp’s fingers tighten around the graphite stick, and he quickly turns the page, not wanting to capture this moment but finding his fingers tracing the hard lines of both of their backs all over again.
Splashes of paint, scarlet and ebony, green and gold, splattering angrily and disruptively across the canvas of their daily lives.
It’s been a week, and the unbearable tension has yet to ease. Nami’d said something about intervening in this mess yesterday, her mouth a thin slash of worried carmine, and Luffy had nodded in uncharacteristic silence, straightened his hat, and ambled off to go have a chat with his uncommunicative first mate.
Now it’s someone’s turn to talk to Sanji. Something in Usopp’s gut tells the sniper that this is the one time when having the girls talk to Sanji might be a bad idea.
The cook is denned in his lair, and the hero trembles as he steps in. He does not fear for himself, though—he fears accidentally tearing open whatever injury the chef has curled himself around, dark blood of a mortal wound staining his hands. Maybe Chopper should have done this.
No. Chopper is kind and sympathetic and gentle, but there’s such a thing as being too empathetic, and words are Usopp’s chosen forte anyway. Usopp steps into the dim galley, staring at his outline sketched large and dark on the wooden floor.
Smudge stick, blurring edges and softening hardness.
Sanji’s finally calming down, face dry, words coherent once again. His voice is a throaty rasp, worn to a dull nub but still scratching out words. The chef hasn’t provided more than a light sketch of what happened, but underpainting and guide lines are enough for Usopp.
Sanji chokes out that he hates Zoro, but scribbled around that is the silent admission that he’s angrier with himself.
At last, Sanji falls silent, slumping forward, arms wrapped around his stomach, dejection and self-loathing in black and gold and blue.
Usopp wants to erase that sad profile, go back and retell the story so that it has a happy ending. But he knows that on the great canvas of time, everything is written and drawn in indelible ink.
All he can do is reach out with his hands and his words and try to put things in a different color, soft strokes of watercolor sympathy, smudges of warm pastel encouragement, daubs of friendship and nakama-love, and the sharply drawn black ink of truth, the truth that Luffy spent hours coaxing from Zoro’s weeklong dead silence yesterday, because the chef needs to hear it. Most of it is Zoro’s to say, will have to come from Zoro’s lips eventually, but Sanji has to be willing to listen first.
Finally, the thin-drawn mouth relaxes, and the painful curves of the blond’s shoulders and spine straighten to their usual proud lines.
Usopp stands and smiles at him, and goes out to fetch Zoro. There will be the fight to end all fights in the galley tonight, but it’s Sanji and Zoro. They always fight; they exist in a world of overlapping dynamic angles and swift smears of brilliantly flaring emotion.
That, after this, their lines may sometimes tangle together and merge and their emotions may occasionally blaze the same color doesn’t bother Usopp. He curls up against the mast, next to Luffy. He gives his captain an optimistic grin, managing to only flinch slightly as the bellows and the sound of clashing bodies start echoing from behind the closed door.
Same elements, new composition.
Title: Drawing Out
Series: One Piece.
One Piece: Not mine.
Rating: PG-13 for implications.
Summary: Sanji and Zoro: Study of a Dysfunctional Relationship, by Great Artist Usopp. Crossposted to
onepieceyaoi.Sharp lines, acute angles.
The two of them have been fighting since Sanji set foot on board. The manly men, throwing steel-edged words at each other so fast that the emotional sparks fall like rain. Usopp watches them sparring and twisting and spitting at each other, fingers moving over the sketchpad nearly as fast as whirling blades and flying feet, soft scrape of pencil underlining the noisy combat.
Light and shadow, chiaroscuro on the page.
Sanji’s hair shines in the sun as he shouts, his face flushed and twisted. Too far, too far this time, vitriolic invective finding chinks in thick testosterone armor, and darkness covers rich verdancy and the snowy hilt of Zoro’s favorite blade slips between his teeth. Usopp knows he should break it up, that this time means business, but he’s afraid to reach in and try to snap the razor-wire threads that bind them together. He screams for Luffy instead, dropping his half-finished study of a swordsman at rest.
Void space, delineating and vast.
Something happened last night. The two of them are carefully maintaining their respective kinespheres, the thousand casual violations of personal space that they regularly engage in abolished under some new law between them. Sanji’s shoulders are tense as he cuts vegetables, and Zoro’s movements as he washes dishes are hesitant and uncertain. The space between them is heavy and dark, filled with something unspoken and slick with blood and tears. Usopp’s fingers tighten around the graphite stick, and he quickly turns the page, not wanting to capture this moment but finding his fingers tracing the hard lines of both of their backs all over again.
Splashes of paint, scarlet and ebony, green and gold, splattering angrily and disruptively across the canvas of their daily lives.
It’s been a week, and the unbearable tension has yet to ease. Nami’d said something about intervening in this mess yesterday, her mouth a thin slash of worried carmine, and Luffy had nodded in uncharacteristic silence, straightened his hat, and ambled off to go have a chat with his uncommunicative first mate.
Now it’s someone’s turn to talk to Sanji. Something in Usopp’s gut tells the sniper that this is the one time when having the girls talk to Sanji might be a bad idea.
The cook is denned in his lair, and the hero trembles as he steps in. He does not fear for himself, though—he fears accidentally tearing open whatever injury the chef has curled himself around, dark blood of a mortal wound staining his hands. Maybe Chopper should have done this.
No. Chopper is kind and sympathetic and gentle, but there’s such a thing as being too empathetic, and words are Usopp’s chosen forte anyway. Usopp steps into the dim galley, staring at his outline sketched large and dark on the wooden floor.
Smudge stick, blurring edges and softening hardness.
Sanji’s finally calming down, face dry, words coherent once again. His voice is a throaty rasp, worn to a dull nub but still scratching out words. The chef hasn’t provided more than a light sketch of what happened, but underpainting and guide lines are enough for Usopp.
Sanji chokes out that he hates Zoro, but scribbled around that is the silent admission that he’s angrier with himself.
At last, Sanji falls silent, slumping forward, arms wrapped around his stomach, dejection and self-loathing in black and gold and blue.
Usopp wants to erase that sad profile, go back and retell the story so that it has a happy ending. But he knows that on the great canvas of time, everything is written and drawn in indelible ink.
All he can do is reach out with his hands and his words and try to put things in a different color, soft strokes of watercolor sympathy, smudges of warm pastel encouragement, daubs of friendship and nakama-love, and the sharply drawn black ink of truth, the truth that Luffy spent hours coaxing from Zoro’s weeklong dead silence yesterday, because the chef needs to hear it. Most of it is Zoro’s to say, will have to come from Zoro’s lips eventually, but Sanji has to be willing to listen first.
Finally, the thin-drawn mouth relaxes, and the painful curves of the blond’s shoulders and spine straighten to their usual proud lines.
Usopp stands and smiles at him, and goes out to fetch Zoro. There will be the fight to end all fights in the galley tonight, but it’s Sanji and Zoro. They always fight; they exist in a world of overlapping dynamic angles and swift smears of brilliantly flaring emotion.
That, after this, their lines may sometimes tangle together and merge and their emotions may occasionally blaze the same color doesn’t bother Usopp. He curls up against the mast, next to Luffy. He gives his captain an optimistic grin, managing to only flinch slightly as the bellows and the sound of clashing bodies start echoing from behind the closed door.
Same elements, new composition.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
WOW
Date: 2006-08-27 05:44 pm (UTC)Re: WOW
Date: 2006-08-27 05:51 pm (UTC)critiquewrite. XDRe: WOW
Date: 2006-08-27 06:02 pm (UTC)Re: WOW
Date: 2006-08-27 06:12 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-27 07:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-27 09:03 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-27 07:19 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-27 10:47 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-27 07:42 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-27 10:49 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-27 08:23 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-28 02:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-27 09:32 pm (UTC)the subleties were beautiful too.
favourite words:
kinespheres
worried carmine
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-28 02:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-27 09:44 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-28 02:12 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-27 10:00 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-28 02:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-28 01:24 am (UTC)His voice is a throaty rasp, worn to a dull nub but still scratching out words.
Shit, I mean, with words like these, and then the whole thing, the way you reference their every action and word to different mediums and strokes and everything. Arrrrrrrgh. T_________T bbb
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-28 02:01 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-28 04:07 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-29 03:08 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-28 06:14 am (UTC)(Is it just me or what? I'm kind of thinking this has something to do with the previous ZoSan fics...are they finally working this out? )*waits in excitement*:D
(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-29 03:09 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-28 05:52 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-08-29 03:13 am (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-03 02:53 pm (UTC)And the last line's perfect. So very true. Trust me, when I read it, I literally went 'WOW'. XDDD
(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-04 11:21 pm (UTC)(no subject)
Date: 2006-09-04 11:21 pm (UTC)