(no subject)
Mmnnnn. Feeling quite a bit better; say, 80-85% or so. Just in time to go to work. Blergh. Anyway, back to MM tomorrow, so I can maybe catch up on everything I've missed. And Onemanga. And fics. And I think I missed Smoker's birthday, so oops.
Although I managed to add twenty-two words to Sven and hosio's Disco-Smoker fic, so I think it's thoroughly finished, and I probably can't edit it any more. I re-read it, thought, 'Holy crap. It's so obvious I was starting to feel ill when I wrote this', and decided, 'Screw it. Let's post!'
Title: Commodore Smoker ~ Disco King!
"No," said Smoker, who was promptly ignored.
"Hina is glad Smoker-kun is so happy to assist," the Captain announced breezily, adding another layer of varnish to an elegantly-formed nail. "Hina will provide Smoker-kun's costume, as Hina frankly doesn't trust Smoker-kun to take this seriously."
"No," said Smoker, once more.
-
"No," said Smoker, as he was half-dragged into the ballroom, which was extravagantly decorated with… with things that Marines should have no part of, in his (naturally correct) view. Strobe lights. Balloons. Disco-balls. Banners proclaiming the '15th Annual Marine Disco Competition'.
He wanted to run, but the black bands and seastone cuff were slightly restricting his movement. It had nothing, of course, to do with the sheer terror he was currently undergoing.
Good God. It was disco music.
This was Injustice.
"Stop," he said, just for the variety.
Hina smiled. Sweetly. The air around them chilled, several of the others in the room edging away from the pair, eyes wary. "Smoker-kun obviously doesn't understand how important this is to Hina." She moved forwards, pressing herself up against the man, eyes narrowing to vicious slits of womanly EVIL.
"For four years now, Hina has come second - second - in the Annual Marine Disco Competition. Hina has never, ever been voted Queen of Disco."
Smoker had no idea why this was a bad thing, but she was bending his fingers back at an angle they shouldn’t be able to manage, so he stayed quiet.
"This year, Hina's usual partner abandoned her," the woman breathed softly, her voice dripping with the promise of pain and humiliation for any who might dare stand in her way. "Abandoned her, Smoker-kun. To take up waltzing. Jorobu-traitor said Hina wouldn’t 'hold him back' there. Does Smoker-kun understand the depths Hina is willing to sink to, to gain a competent partner? To take the crown that. Is. Rightfully. Hina's?"
"Erk," Smoker managed. Hina smiled once more, eyes and lips curving innocently, before letting go of Smoker's hand.
"Smoker-kun is going to dance. Smoker-kun is going to dance well, and win. Smoker-kun and Hina are going to be King and Queen of Disco, or Hina is going to be very, very unhappy."
The Commodore stared at her, face paler than usual. His eyes flickered around the room, lingering for the barest instants on the other competitors, obvious by the numbered papers pinned to their backs. Most he didn’t know, but some... was that really Vice-Admiral Garp and Admiral Aokiji going over dance steps? And those new, unfortunate underlings of the formers, Goby and Helmet, or whatever their names were? The number 13 pair, with their eyes latched onto Hina - wasn't that the pair of morons who were usually babbling around her?
"Yeeesssss," Hina hissed, glare latching onto the pair. "Jango and Fullbody. They may well be the greatest threat we will face, Smoker-kun, in our quest to snatch the crown - for those pitiful fools rule the throne we wish to usurp."
Closing his eyes as a migraine started to develop (oddly, not caused by the flashing disco lights or the thirty-year old music), Smoker tried to make sense of this. "Two men are King and Queen of Disco?"
"Equal opportunities, Smoker-kun," his 'partner' sniffed, waving the comment away with a languid hand. "Besides, Hina already complained to the judges the first time she entered, when two women won. They wouldn't disallow it then, so Hina doubts they will now. Smoker-kun and Hina will have to dance their way to victory through sheer skill. Or possibly through the snipers Hina has ready as a back-up plan."
'Run! Run!' wailed the faint remnants of Smoker's survival instincts, hammering at his sanity as it cried for attention. But alas! Commodore Smoker was a Marine Officer, and was too well-trained in automatically ignoring whatever his survival instincts wanted.
The Captain glanced at the sparkling, glittering clock set high on one wall, and smirked. "Ten minutes until the first round, Smoker-kun," she anticipated. "Hina will go powder her nose - go fetch numbers for us, hm? And don't try to run, Smoker-kun... because if Hina has to lose the crown for a fifth time..."
Smoker nodded, because he was all too happy to listen to his Survival Instincts: Subsection - Dealing With Hina. They prevented cherry-red claws from gouging his eyes out when it was her time of the month, and stopped him from making sarcastic comments about her soap-operas. Actually, the former would probably be the result of the latter, but still.
While she strode off to the bathroom, somehow managing a predatory stalk while in six-inch-platform boots, Smoker cast one last, horrified gaze around the room, worried that this insanity might rub off on him. He wasn't certain if insane people flocked together, or if it was the act of staying around madmen that drove one insane yourself, but he wasn't planning on finding out.
Still... it was Captain Hina. A woman who was, apparently, even more of a psycho than he'd previously thought, and Smoker had no intention of antagonising her any more by escaping.
Shoving his way through the crowd of chattering nitwits, he made his way to the organisers to get a number assigned.
-
He'd just had the paper with 26 printed on it pinned to the back of his suit (white, pointed lapels, open at the chest, matched with a pair of white, flared trousers, it was hideous, run, run) and had spun around to give the idiot a piece of his mind for jabbing him with the pin, when a hand rested on his back, above the paper.
Smoker turned again, to snap at Hina, Garp, or whatever other moron had decided to piss him off by recognising him, when his jaw dropped and no sound came out.
"Hi!" Ace grinned. He was sure it was Portgas D. Idiot, because of the face, eyes, and permanent stupid expression - they varied in exactly what emotion they were showing, but they were all stupid. As a cunning disguise, however, Firefist Ace was currently dressed in a long, blonde wig. Blonde. Because he was also wearing heeled boots, an orange nylon dress with (hopefully) fake breasts, and a black choker.
"Oh thank God," Smoker allowed. "It's all just an incredibly bad nightmare."
Ace pouted. It was made more obvious by the lipstick, which was surprisingly-well put on. "You're a meany. And I came all this way to see you, too."
"This is a room - a building - full of high-ranking Marines!" Smoker bit out as quietly as he could while expressing the full extent of his fury, which was quite a bit. "What the fuck are you doing here, Por- moron?"
The pirate fluttered his eyelashes and pouted further. "I heard you were signing up for a shot at King of Disco, so I figured you’d need a Queen."
Grind, grind, grind, went the Marine’s teeth. "The only reason I'm going through this Hell," he spat, "is because that woman is making me. While I'm sure you make an excellent Queen - you're certainly doing a good job of it right now - I'm forced to dance with Hina, so I suggest you leave right the fuck now, before some idiot recognises you." If there was a riot and the disco was called off, Smoker was quite sure Hina would find a way to blame it on him, after all. Also, it would probably be bad if his lov- fuck-buddy were arrested. Not that he'd care, or anything. Yeah. Damn pirates. Cheh.
The retarded grin returned. "Oh, but Smokey, Hina won't be joining us tonight," Ace informed him, stepping closer and pressing his body, fake breasts and all, against Smoker's. His arms wrapped around the Marine. "She had an unfortunate little accident in the bathroom, and won't be waking up for a while. Tomorrow morning, I'd say."
Smoker froze. "We’re dead. You’ve killed us both."
"The competition's about to start, and you're lucky I remembered not to wear the moustache this time," Ace said, matter-of-factly. "Now shut up and make me your Queen."
"Dead," whispered Smoker in shock, as the pirate pulled him onto the dance-floor with the other couples. "Doomed."
-
"Hina is very upset."
"Hn."
"Hina is very upset with Smoker-kun. Smoker-kun agreed to make Hina his Queen, and he didn't."
"... Hn."
"Hina is very, very upset with Smoker-kun. Does Smoker-kun know why? No? Hina will explain. Hina is upset because when she woke up yesterday morning - in the roof-space above the women's toilets - she found that the Disco Competition was over."
"Hnnn."
"She also found that Smoker-kun had carried on dancing without her. With some random slut he'd managed to pick up."
Narrowed eyes. "Hhhn."
Narrowed eyes back. "Smoker-kun became King of Disco. But Hina is still not Queen."
A deep breath out, blowing thick smoke rings. "I can get a divorce and remarry."
"THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS!"
"Hina," Smoker snapped, eyes giving a quick roll as he clipped another cigar, "It was a fucking disco competition. One I had no intention of entering in the first place. You only have yourself to blame for... falling asleep in the bathroom."
"Falling asleep? And sleep-climbing to the roof-space? Pulling the tiles back in place behind Hina? With a tranquiliser-dart in Hina's ass?!"
"... Hhhhhnn."
"Smoker. Kun. Is going. To be. Very. Sorry."
"The question, Captain," the Commodore smirked, remembering the feel of one Portgas D. Ace, Disco Queen, in his arms, "is whether the King of Disco is going to be sorry."
"CURSE YOU, DISCO KING! We'll battle once more - on the DANCEFLOOR!"
And thus, did the Great Disco War begin. But next year's competition, gentle reader, is another trauma tale.
Bed now. Bed. Must. Have. Bed. *dead again*
I had a reminder letter from the Royal Navy today, as well, so I'm now considering whether I should finally get laser-eye surgery and follow my dreeaammms. I applied to join the army first, but I've been annoyed with them lately so... hn. Oh well. Just saying. Maybe I will, maybe I won't.
To bed!
Although I managed to add twenty-two words to Sven and hosio's Disco-Smoker fic, so I think it's thoroughly finished, and I probably can't edit it any more. I re-read it, thought, 'Holy crap. It's so obvious I was starting to feel ill when I wrote this', and decided, 'Screw it. Let's post!'
Title: Commodore Smoker ~ Disco King!
"No," said Smoker, who was promptly ignored.
"Hina is glad Smoker-kun is so happy to assist," the Captain announced breezily, adding another layer of varnish to an elegantly-formed nail. "Hina will provide Smoker-kun's costume, as Hina frankly doesn't trust Smoker-kun to take this seriously."
"No," said Smoker, once more.
-
"No," said Smoker, as he was half-dragged into the ballroom, which was extravagantly decorated with… with things that Marines should have no part of, in his (naturally correct) view. Strobe lights. Balloons. Disco-balls. Banners proclaiming the '15th Annual Marine Disco Competition'.
He wanted to run, but the black bands and seastone cuff were slightly restricting his movement. It had nothing, of course, to do with the sheer terror he was currently undergoing.
Good God. It was disco music.
This was Injustice.
"Stop," he said, just for the variety.
Hina smiled. Sweetly. The air around them chilled, several of the others in the room edging away from the pair, eyes wary. "Smoker-kun obviously doesn't understand how important this is to Hina." She moved forwards, pressing herself up against the man, eyes narrowing to vicious slits of womanly EVIL.
"For four years now, Hina has come second - second - in the Annual Marine Disco Competition. Hina has never, ever been voted Queen of Disco."
Smoker had no idea why this was a bad thing, but she was bending his fingers back at an angle they shouldn’t be able to manage, so he stayed quiet.
"This year, Hina's usual partner abandoned her," the woman breathed softly, her voice dripping with the promise of pain and humiliation for any who might dare stand in her way. "Abandoned her, Smoker-kun. To take up waltzing. Jorobu-traitor said Hina wouldn’t 'hold him back' there. Does Smoker-kun understand the depths Hina is willing to sink to, to gain a competent partner? To take the crown that. Is. Rightfully. Hina's?"
"Erk," Smoker managed. Hina smiled once more, eyes and lips curving innocently, before letting go of Smoker's hand.
"Smoker-kun is going to dance. Smoker-kun is going to dance well, and win. Smoker-kun and Hina are going to be King and Queen of Disco, or Hina is going to be very, very unhappy."
The Commodore stared at her, face paler than usual. His eyes flickered around the room, lingering for the barest instants on the other competitors, obvious by the numbered papers pinned to their backs. Most he didn’t know, but some... was that really Vice-Admiral Garp and Admiral Aokiji going over dance steps? And those new, unfortunate underlings of the formers, Goby and Helmet, or whatever their names were? The number 13 pair, with their eyes latched onto Hina - wasn't that the pair of morons who were usually babbling around her?
"Yeeesssss," Hina hissed, glare latching onto the pair. "Jango and Fullbody. They may well be the greatest threat we will face, Smoker-kun, in our quest to snatch the crown - for those pitiful fools rule the throne we wish to usurp."
Closing his eyes as a migraine started to develop (oddly, not caused by the flashing disco lights or the thirty-year old music), Smoker tried to make sense of this. "Two men are King and Queen of Disco?"
"Equal opportunities, Smoker-kun," his 'partner' sniffed, waving the comment away with a languid hand. "Besides, Hina already complained to the judges the first time she entered, when two women won. They wouldn't disallow it then, so Hina doubts they will now. Smoker-kun and Hina will have to dance their way to victory through sheer skill. Or possibly through the snipers Hina has ready as a back-up plan."
'Run! Run!' wailed the faint remnants of Smoker's survival instincts, hammering at his sanity as it cried for attention. But alas! Commodore Smoker was a Marine Officer, and was too well-trained in automatically ignoring whatever his survival instincts wanted.
The Captain glanced at the sparkling, glittering clock set high on one wall, and smirked. "Ten minutes until the first round, Smoker-kun," she anticipated. "Hina will go powder her nose - go fetch numbers for us, hm? And don't try to run, Smoker-kun... because if Hina has to lose the crown for a fifth time..."
Smoker nodded, because he was all too happy to listen to his Survival Instincts: Subsection - Dealing With Hina. They prevented cherry-red claws from gouging his eyes out when it was her time of the month, and stopped him from making sarcastic comments about her soap-operas. Actually, the former would probably be the result of the latter, but still.
While she strode off to the bathroom, somehow managing a predatory stalk while in six-inch-platform boots, Smoker cast one last, horrified gaze around the room, worried that this insanity might rub off on him. He wasn't certain if insane people flocked together, or if it was the act of staying around madmen that drove one insane yourself, but he wasn't planning on finding out.
Still... it was Captain Hina. A woman who was, apparently, even more of a psycho than he'd previously thought, and Smoker had no intention of antagonising her any more by escaping.
Shoving his way through the crowd of chattering nitwits, he made his way to the organisers to get a number assigned.
-
He'd just had the paper with 26 printed on it pinned to the back of his suit (white, pointed lapels, open at the chest, matched with a pair of white, flared trousers, it was hideous, run, run) and had spun around to give the idiot a piece of his mind for jabbing him with the pin, when a hand rested on his back, above the paper.
Smoker turned again, to snap at Hina, Garp, or whatever other moron had decided to piss him off by recognising him, when his jaw dropped and no sound came out.
"Hi!" Ace grinned. He was sure it was Portgas D. Idiot, because of the face, eyes, and permanent stupid expression - they varied in exactly what emotion they were showing, but they were all stupid. As a cunning disguise, however, Firefist Ace was currently dressed in a long, blonde wig. Blonde. Because he was also wearing heeled boots, an orange nylon dress with (hopefully) fake breasts, and a black choker.
"Oh thank God," Smoker allowed. "It's all just an incredibly bad nightmare."
Ace pouted. It was made more obvious by the lipstick, which was surprisingly-well put on. "You're a meany. And I came all this way to see you, too."
"This is a room - a building - full of high-ranking Marines!" Smoker bit out as quietly as he could while expressing the full extent of his fury, which was quite a bit. "What the fuck are you doing here, Por- moron?"
The pirate fluttered his eyelashes and pouted further. "I heard you were signing up for a shot at King of Disco, so I figured you’d need a Queen."
Grind, grind, grind, went the Marine’s teeth. "The only reason I'm going through this Hell," he spat, "is because that woman is making me. While I'm sure you make an excellent Queen - you're certainly doing a good job of it right now - I'm forced to dance with Hina, so I suggest you leave right the fuck now, before some idiot recognises you." If there was a riot and the disco was called off, Smoker was quite sure Hina would find a way to blame it on him, after all. Also, it would probably be bad if his lov- fuck-buddy were arrested. Not that he'd care, or anything. Yeah. Damn pirates. Cheh.
The retarded grin returned. "Oh, but Smokey, Hina won't be joining us tonight," Ace informed him, stepping closer and pressing his body, fake breasts and all, against Smoker's. His arms wrapped around the Marine. "She had an unfortunate little accident in the bathroom, and won't be waking up for a while. Tomorrow morning, I'd say."
Smoker froze. "We’re dead. You’ve killed us both."
"The competition's about to start, and you're lucky I remembered not to wear the moustache this time," Ace said, matter-of-factly. "Now shut up and make me your Queen."
"Dead," whispered Smoker in shock, as the pirate pulled him onto the dance-floor with the other couples. "Doomed."
-
"Hina is very upset."
"Hn."
"Hina is very upset with Smoker-kun. Smoker-kun agreed to make Hina his Queen, and he didn't."
"... Hn."
"Hina is very, very upset with Smoker-kun. Does Smoker-kun know why? No? Hina will explain. Hina is upset because when she woke up yesterday morning - in the roof-space above the women's toilets - she found that the Disco Competition was over."
"Hnnn."
"She also found that Smoker-kun had carried on dancing without her. With some random slut he'd managed to pick up."
Narrowed eyes. "Hhhn."
Narrowed eyes back. "Smoker-kun became King of Disco. But Hina is still not Queen."
A deep breath out, blowing thick smoke rings. "I can get a divorce and remarry."
"THAT IS NOT HOW IT WORKS!"
"Hina," Smoker snapped, eyes giving a quick roll as he clipped another cigar, "It was a fucking disco competition. One I had no intention of entering in the first place. You only have yourself to blame for... falling asleep in the bathroom."
"Falling asleep? And sleep-climbing to the roof-space? Pulling the tiles back in place behind Hina? With a tranquiliser-dart in Hina's ass?!"
"... Hhhhhnn."
"Smoker. Kun. Is going. To be. Very. Sorry."
"The question, Captain," the Commodore smirked, remembering the feel of one Portgas D. Ace, Disco Queen, in his arms, "is whether the King of Disco is going to be sorry."
"CURSE YOU, DISCO KING! We'll battle once more - on the DANCEFLOOR!"
And thus, did the Great Disco War begin. But next year's competition, gentle reader, is another trauma tale.
Bed now. Bed. Must. Have. Bed. *dead again*
I had a reminder letter from the Royal Navy today, as well, so I'm now considering whether I should finally get laser-eye surgery and follow my dreeaammms. I applied to join the army first, but I've been annoyed with them lately so... hn. Oh well. Just saying. Maybe I will, maybe I won't.
To bed!