Damn you, evil crackfic.
Nov. 19th, 2005 01:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
chibi_trillianchibi_trillian, beginning of November: "No, I can't do NaNoWriMo. I don't think I can write new stuff every single day."
chibi_trillian now: "Mmmm, this crow tastes delicious!"
My beta's out of town for the weekend. I'm usually pretty good about such things, but if anyone catches a careless mistake or typo, kindly say so so my dumb ass can fix it.
I swear, I'll get caught up on comments soon. I've been doing the thing that involves the flailing of the arms and the running around like a chicken with my head cut off. I'm glad I've had time to write, frankly. >_<
Sanji's Uke-Uke Fruit Adventure: Part the Fourth and One Half
Series = One Piece = not mine.
Sanji hummed absently to himself as he got ready for bed. His emotions today had gone up and down so many times and in so many directions that he was starting to feel extreme kinship to pizza dough, but, like the dough, it seemed he had finally reached a state of flat, thin, round calm and was just waiting to see what would become of him after he was topped.
Sanji’s stomach did a weird little flippity-flop at that particular mental phrasing, and he wondered idly what kind of toppings Zoro liked on his Sanj—er, pizza.
Arg. Bad thoughts. Unless Zoro submitted a specific request for pizza, Sanji should not give a shit what Zoro wanted on one. Bed now. Sleep would help him organize his muddled, mushy thoughts.
Sanji scrambled into his hammock, half-falling into it because it was now a couple of inches too high to be really convenient. Yet another thing he’d have to adjust. You never knew how good you had it being tall until you spent some quality time being short. He really, really missed those six inches of height. Maybe he should break down and ask Usopp to make him a stepstool before somebody else did it for him. And maybe he should give up, fling away the last shreds of his masculinity and heterosexuality, and go sleep with Zoro like his mind, body, and hormones kept telling him to.
Feh. Not bloody likely. Last time he’d checked, he’d still had a penis.
A horrible thought struck him, and he pulled out the waistband of his boxers. Whew. Still there and quite possibly the only part of his body that was still the same shape it had been this morning. Well, that was a relief. Even the Uke-Uke Fruit held some things sacred, apparently.
Sanji relaxed and curled up, waiting for sleep to claim him. God only knew he was tired enough. It was quiet and dark here in the kitchen, perfectly conducive to all kinds of snoozing from light naps to heavy, dreamless sleep.
Naturally, his brain would not fucking shut up long enough for him to doze off. It ruminated on his new freak-abilities and how they could maybe be used if he got some control over them. It wondered what Robin would come up with in the research that she had promised to do on the Uke-Uke Fruit. It went down the mental checklist for the kitchen, trying to figure out what he needed at the next island with a real market.
Most annoyingly, it kept coming back to dwell on Zoro, on the way the first mate kept leaping to his defense, on how Zoro had suddenly grown a sense of tact, on the way Zoro’s lips had felt pressed against his with one calloused hand brushing back his hair and his eyes promising all kinds of marvelous things and—
Sanji blew up the tracks beneath that train of thought because it was starting to sound like a crappy romance novel. Really, really crappy. The kind where the handsome first mate winds up fucking the ship’s cook into the wall while the cook screams, “Ooooh, take me now!” like a teenage girl.
Sanji sighed, buried his face in his blanket, and wondered what Zeff would think if he knew that his baby eggplant had turned into a fruit.
chibi_trillian now: "Mmmm, this crow tastes delicious!"
My beta's out of town for the weekend. I'm usually pretty good about such things, but if anyone catches a careless mistake or typo, kindly say so so my dumb ass can fix it.
I swear, I'll get caught up on comments soon. I've been doing the thing that involves the flailing of the arms and the running around like a chicken with my head cut off. I'm glad I've had time to write, frankly. >_<
Sanji's Uke-Uke Fruit Adventure: Part the Fourth and One Half
Series = One Piece = not mine.
Sanji hummed absently to himself as he got ready for bed. His emotions today had gone up and down so many times and in so many directions that he was starting to feel extreme kinship to pizza dough, but, like the dough, it seemed he had finally reached a state of flat, thin, round calm and was just waiting to see what would become of him after he was topped.
Sanji’s stomach did a weird little flippity-flop at that particular mental phrasing, and he wondered idly what kind of toppings Zoro liked on his Sanj—er, pizza.
Arg. Bad thoughts. Unless Zoro submitted a specific request for pizza, Sanji should not give a shit what Zoro wanted on one. Bed now. Sleep would help him organize his muddled, mushy thoughts.
Sanji scrambled into his hammock, half-falling into it because it was now a couple of inches too high to be really convenient. Yet another thing he’d have to adjust. You never knew how good you had it being tall until you spent some quality time being short. He really, really missed those six inches of height. Maybe he should break down and ask Usopp to make him a stepstool before somebody else did it for him. And maybe he should give up, fling away the last shreds of his masculinity and heterosexuality, and go sleep with Zoro like his mind, body, and hormones kept telling him to.
Feh. Not bloody likely. Last time he’d checked, he’d still had a penis.
A horrible thought struck him, and he pulled out the waistband of his boxers. Whew. Still there and quite possibly the only part of his body that was still the same shape it had been this morning. Well, that was a relief. Even the Uke-Uke Fruit held some things sacred, apparently.
Sanji relaxed and curled up, waiting for sleep to claim him. God only knew he was tired enough. It was quiet and dark here in the kitchen, perfectly conducive to all kinds of snoozing from light naps to heavy, dreamless sleep.
Naturally, his brain would not fucking shut up long enough for him to doze off. It ruminated on his new freak-abilities and how they could maybe be used if he got some control over them. It wondered what Robin would come up with in the research that she had promised to do on the Uke-Uke Fruit. It went down the mental checklist for the kitchen, trying to figure out what he needed at the next island with a real market.
Most annoyingly, it kept coming back to dwell on Zoro, on the way the first mate kept leaping to his defense, on how Zoro had suddenly grown a sense of tact, on the way Zoro’s lips had felt pressed against his with one calloused hand brushing back his hair and his eyes promising all kinds of marvelous things and—
Sanji blew up the tracks beneath that train of thought because it was starting to sound like a crappy romance novel. Really, really crappy. The kind where the handsome first mate winds up fucking the ship’s cook into the wall while the cook screams, “Ooooh, take me now!” like a teenage girl.
Sanji sighed, buried his face in his blanket, and wondered what Zeff would think if he knew that his baby eggplant had turned into a fruit.
