[FIC] [OP; Sanji/?] Paradise; [OP; Jango] Mind Games

May 09, 2005 18:52

Fandom: One Piece
Title: Paradise
Copyright: One Piece and its characters © Eiichiro Oda. Quotation © Wordsworth
Pairing: Sanji/?
Genre: Angst-lite
Rating: [teens] for implications
Wordcount: 113
Spoilers: n/a
Warnings: Possible slash, possible het, egads
Notes: Because Mr. Oda refuses to let me leave OP fandom, and bless him for it.
Summary: When everything you thought you wanted wasn't everything it cracked up to be.



A dancing shape, an image gay,
To haunt, to startle, to waylay.
-- William Wordsworth, Perfect Woman

It was a rotten imitation of paradise.

Paradise, as he had thought of it in the past, was made of warm beaches, sunny days and starry nights, with good food to eat, someone to hold, and a neverending supply of cigarettes.

The paradise he'd awakened to seemed to be comprised of slivers of sunlight, sheets that were too warm in all the wrong places, and a faint smell of something unpleasant hanging in the air like smoke.

Sanji didn't turn over. Ignored the aches, tried to drown out the soft snoring beside him. His fingers already itched to be doing something, holding a cigarette.

This must have been somebody else's idea of paradise.

End.

Fandom: One Piece
Title: Mind Games
Copyright: One Piece and its characters © Eiichiro Oda. Quotation © Milton
Pairing: n/a
Genre: Gen, character study
Rating: [most audiences] for general theme
Wordcount: 134
Spoilers: n/a
Warnings: None, though the theme's a bit dark
Notes: No exact timeline, but probably set before One Piece starts
Summary: You had to be an artist to do this kind of thing.



Fill the fixed mind with all your toys.
-- John Milton, Il Penseroso

It was all about playing with their heads.

Paint a scene in someone's mind, pretty as you please, anything you like. The gentle sway of grass and wildflowers on softly rolling hills, or a few acres of hell full aflame and wildly glinting eyes in the darkness.

You could give them paradise or their very own personal bogeyman. A body could be made or broken, with just a little razzle dazzle and the sound of a syrup-mellow voice to lull him either way.

All up to your whim. That is power. A man could get drunk real easy on power like that. You have to know when too much is too much; you have to have style.

You had to be an artist to do this kind of thing.

And Jango was an artist.

End.

fanfic, fanfic: one piece, fandom: one piece

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