Fic post: Footholds
Sep. 5th, 2010 07:04 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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onepiece_300Title: Footholds
Rating: G
Media: fic
Word Count: 300
Character: Sanji
Pairing: slightly Sanji->Nami; more gen than not, though
Prompt: Smooth
Flavour: Backstory angst
Author's Notes: Nitpicks and other constructive criticism highly encouraged, even if a re-writing would put this over the word limit - if so, I could always leave the fic unchanged here and post a rewrite on my journal.
Whenever the ship makes anchor near land, Sanji has a habit of loking at the nearby rocks. If they are sharp, craggly things that seem easy to climb, he feels relieved and reassured; if they're all smooth, he'll get just a little anxious, though he knows it's irrational and they'll be just fine.
It's no mystery to him. Back then, that one tiny rock of an island had sides that were all smooth, offering not the tiniest hint of a foothold. The waters had fish in them, but as the shitty old man had said, there was no use in jumping in when there was no way to climb up.
He'd stared down into those waters for such a long, long time, seeing tantalising glimpses of seaweed, of shoals of fish passing by. But the rock was even, smooth, implacable.
If you jump in, you will never get out. And somehow, despite the pain and terror of those far-too-many-days, despite all the hallucinations, he'd never quite gotten bad enough to forget that and dive in.
The Sunny is a strong, hardy ship, made of Adam's wood and sandpapered smooth to perfection. But Franky made sure to put in helpful decorations, window-frames, and other tiny bits of unevenness - enough for a good climber to use, particularly after he's just dived in after his idiot captain.
*
Sanji loves the perfect, soft smoothness of a pretty woman's skin; he strives to protect all the ladies of his heart from anything that could blemish them.
And yet... sometimes, when he watches the (barely visible) scars on Nami's left hand and shoulder, there's a part of him that feels almost grateful for them. As if they were tiny footholds.
He should probably feel ashamed over that. But somehow, he can't quite bring himself to.
Rating: G
Media: fic
Word Count: 300
Character: Sanji
Pairing: slightly Sanji->Nami; more gen than not, though
Prompt: Smooth
Flavour: Backstory angst
Author's Notes: Nitpicks and other constructive criticism highly encouraged, even if a re-writing would put this over the word limit - if so, I could always leave the fic unchanged here and post a rewrite on my journal.
Whenever the ship makes anchor near land, Sanji has a habit of loking at the nearby rocks. If they are sharp, craggly things that seem easy to climb, he feels relieved and reassured; if they're all smooth, he'll get just a little anxious, though he knows it's irrational and they'll be just fine.
It's no mystery to him. Back then, that one tiny rock of an island had sides that were all smooth, offering not the tiniest hint of a foothold. The waters had fish in them, but as the shitty old man had said, there was no use in jumping in when there was no way to climb up.
He'd stared down into those waters for such a long, long time, seeing tantalising glimpses of seaweed, of shoals of fish passing by. But the rock was even, smooth, implacable.
If you jump in, you will never get out. And somehow, despite the pain and terror of those far-too-many-days, despite all the hallucinations, he'd never quite gotten bad enough to forget that and dive in.
The Sunny is a strong, hardy ship, made of Adam's wood and sandpapered smooth to perfection. But Franky made sure to put in helpful decorations, window-frames, and other tiny bits of unevenness - enough for a good climber to use, particularly after he's just dived in after his idiot captain.
*
Sanji loves the perfect, soft smoothness of a pretty woman's skin; he strives to protect all the ladies of his heart from anything that could blemish them.
And yet... sometimes, when he watches the (barely visible) scars on Nami's left hand and shoulder, there's a part of him that feels almost grateful for them. As if they were tiny footholds.
He should probably feel ashamed over that. But somehow, he can't quite bring himself to.
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