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@yakiire
GENTLY kicks him. wake up.
... ... ... his body stays still.
then, SLOWLY, one eye opens and briefly flicks from the tip of the cook's shoe up to his curled brow. he offers a quiet grunt ... before letting his eye drift back shut. you're gonna have to do worse than that.
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KICKS HIS DOOR DOWN.
rudely interrupted; he SLICES the door that comes crashing his way with one knee-jerk swing of his sword. ( it takes a long pause and the sound of several wooden pieces hitting the floor before his mind catches up ).
"... you ... !! knock !!"
nami to chopper, probably: yea just cut the entire arm actually. make sure to sterilize it. it has touched things.
(@ law so about those limb replacements ........)
" there's nothing to think about with shit like that. " and when he thought things couldn't get any more abysmal between the two of them, he found himself once again surprised by the other man's confidence in his own words. " you don't even own four swords. "
"not yet," he says with a confidence that doesn't quite match his private misgivings. there aren't a whole lot of swords that manage to outlast their battles—let alone match his other swords' temperaments. still: "maybe y'could lend me one of your 'doctor knives' for now."
She found a venomous caterpillar lurking around in her bedroom.
Anyway, she's moving out, now.
drawn in by shrieks, he's spotted the creature ( armless; unable to wield a sword. no point in attempting to indoctrinate it alongside the swordfish currently inhabiting their large fish tank on the lower decks ) without much difficulty. he picks it up by its ... tail? promptly suffers a bite, or a sting, or whatever it is that this thing considers a measure of self-defense—but naturally chooses to ignore the slight itch right underneath his skin.
"y'should have knocked, idiot." or so he tells the caterpillar, ( as if a bug had much interest in following social protocols at all ); carries it out of the room, and sends it flying overboard.
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I didn’t miss that social cue I just thought it was stupid
reasons zo*ro will judge you:
complete lack of discipline (and god forbid you're whining about not reaching your goals on top of it all)
for some ungodly reason you don't think swords are cool
disliking simple foods
underestimating women (physically, intellectually, etc.)
lacking proper names for your finisher moves
dying from blood loss (what's wrong with you)
using more swords than he does
trying to have him stay in bed after he got utterly rekt. what do you think he is. weak??
hating kids for no good reason
* 400 RANDOM DIALOGUE PROMPTS (READ MORE) ,
"i never noticed your eyes were this pretty."
"i'll stay in tonight, thanks."
"i can't even trust myself anymore."
"anything to eat around here?"
"i hope to repay your kindness someday."
"you're a terrible flirt you know."
"the only time you talk to me is when you need something."
"how did you find me?"
"how can i possibly trust you? after all you've done."
"i take orders from your father, not you."
"you're not a very convincing liar."
"i thought i'd never see you again."
"why can't i come with you?"
"it was my fault. it was all my fault."
"all this anger and hate, it's not good for you."
"this is the part where you apologize."
"is being drunk an excuse?"
"let me out of here! let me go!"
"aren't we in a good mood today?"
"i was making sure you weren't dead, since you never called."
"there's nothing left for me here."
"i know i lied to you. you can hate me and it's all right."
"i've been waiting for you for a long time."
"what happened? i heard a crash."
"was it you? did you do all this?"
"don't come any closer!"
"looking for something?"
"you're too scared to do it, aren't you?"
"i thought you'd like this."
"you came back!"
"i like seeing you smile."
"i must warn you, i won't go easy on you this time."
"it's better to expect disappointment."
"sorry to put you through that. i guess i owe you one now."
"no way, i'm not doing that."
"it's you! you came for me."
"could you be happy here with me?"
"let me buy you another drink."
"why should i trust you?"
"he's only mostly dead."
"knowledge is power."
"i screwed up. i know."
"we're going to have to stay here tonight."
"help me choose something to wear?"
"i do care."
"i'm sorry, i'm not what you think i am."
"how many more people need to die before you're satisfied?"
"you scared me."
"just try to hang on."
"i risked my life for you!"
"two years later and you haven't changed."
"we're not so different after all."
"i need you to trust me."
"why are you being so stubborn?"
"you don't scare me."
"i'm scared of what you're becoming."
"you look like you just saw a ghost."
"that's quite a scratch you've got there."
"i've always hated it."
"this is the part where you leave."
"don't treat me like a child."
"you were talking in your sleep."
"what are you doing out here by yourself?"
"wait. i've heard that sound before."
"would it be alright if i borrowed this?"
"i think i have a bit more experience with this thing than you do."
"it's not stealing if it was mine to begin with."
"it's nothing personal."
"you were going to leave without saying goodbye?"
"i'll still be here when you wake up."
"don't you fucking dare!"
"you're lucky you're cute."
"it's too dark, i can't see anything."
"i swear it wasn't me."
"that is not an appropriate question to ask a lady you've just met."
"i've got your back, okay?"
"how long have i been asleep?"
"just who do you think you are?"
"i think i might've broken something..."
"i wish you'd take better care of yourself."
"is this what you wanted?"
"what do you want in exchange for it?"
"did you miss me?"
"i'm trying my best and it's not good enough."
"it's not safe for people to see us together."
"don't lie to me."
"i see a lot of myself in you."
"take a seat, we're gonna be here a while."
"i won't hate you. i know you think that's what you deserve but it's not."
"who do you fight for?"
"it's rare to see your kind around here."
"walk with me?"
"i know you better than you think."
"why did you bring me here?"
"what did you want to tell me?"
"you don't even know my name."
"it's nothing, i'm just tired."
"of course i care. you're my family."
"i didn't tell you because i was afraid... of losing you."
"where is my candy, you son of a bitch?"
"you want me to punch him in the face?"
"please... say something."
"who the hell invited you?"
"we need to be careful."
"i just wanted to say i'm sorry."
"we're locked in!"
"don't be naked. i'm coming in."
"do you ever get afraid?"
"you wouldn't understand."
"promise you'll say something if you need help?"
"where have you been?"
"there was blood everywhere."
"i just need to step away for a bit, get some fresh air."
"we're safe, aren't we?"
"how about a little midnight snack?"
"how many people have you killed? how many?"
"whatever you're going to ask, the answer is no."
"you look... amazing."
Crackpot theory:
Zoro keeps getting lost because he's instinctively walking towards the One Piece without realizing it.
Put him in a bubble, place him under an illusion of some place, and set him loose while the bubble is contained and you'll eventually find the One Piece.
sorry i’ve been thinking about this ask for months. not directionally challenged he’s just always chasing the bag
^ guy who'd split the seas with a slice of his sword so his captain can walk thru, unbothered.
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lays her head on his arm and leans back, to look at the stars.
his head turns barely at the touch; he'd anticipated her via the sound of heels on wooden deck. expected to be reprimanded for being out and about, if anything, what with half his torso still wrapped in thick layers of gauze that their conscientious young doctor had secured with a surplus of tape on top—just in case. but the cabin ceiling makes for a boring sight; his crewmate has the right idea. he ceases staring at the waves for the moment and takes to the stars by her side where clear skies were flaunting their glowing bodies with casual arrogance. where the motion of water ripples had taken his mind off of could-have-beens, he finds that this new view to be calming in a different way. ( how many nights had he spent thwacking wooden dummies in an effort to outdo the entire world one day? he'd never had the patience for games of observation back then. )
"... i'm not moving," he says eventually; defensively, as if still suspecting a catch of sorts to the quietude she'd brought along with her. true to his words, he's not moved an inch since her arrival save for inevitable motion called forth by the act of breathing. ( surely that much is allowed. ) granted, he's not keen on being a perfect patient; he simply doesn't want to ruin her enjoyment of a sight that must be doubly gratifying when one understood its various arrangements. "so ... ... don't sell me out." voice comes out low; too rough to be a plea and too unassuming to be a demand. a pinky promise proposal in the middle of the night to escape a reindeer's judgment.
❛ why were they coming after you? ❜
"hell if i know." it's easy to sympathize with mankind's desire to see that their dead remain unbothered in their burial place. perhaps the townspeople were right to chase after him when he'd left nothing but a trail of bones and skulls on their graveyard and most of its adjacent roads. on the other hand, it's hardly his fault that those lunatic skeletons had come reaching for his ankles straight out of the soil beneath him while he was minding his goddamn business. even now, he senses a vague motion by the soles of his feet; sidesteps yet another bone-y hand. steps on it, actually. stiff fingers shatter beneath his heel. a gratifying sound. "—picking a fight over nothing."
“yeah, yeah.” neither does he; truthfully. yet here they both are, lost. and if he’s lost, he can’t imagine it getting any better for the directionally challenged. for good measure; with the help of his free hand and his teeth, the vine is tied and secured around his own wrist. free hands and a sure way that it won’t slip through his fingers if the bull tries to charge without warning. speaking of. . .where the hell is he going.
“where the hell are you going?”
he at least has some vague idea of where they should be heading, if memory serves him right; there is some helpful plants and herbs that he could use to treat their wounds with in the very opposite direction. important, if they don’t want to end up slowly bleeding out and traveling in anymore discomfort..possible infections, even. here’s hoping it doesn’t get to that point. sanji tugs on the vine, lifts his finger to point out the way, before turning his head back over to zoro “let’s go that way instead...” who suddenly seemed to be falling. “you-! ogh?!”
the sudden jerk sets him off balance before he could think, body slamming into blood-stained dirt. the force and weight of the swordsman pulls him along. “idiot!” he shouts, strained, whilst hands try to grab onto anything that will save them. twigs, grass, and finally a tree branch that hung low. a crack. sanji takes a deep breath, exhales slow. looks down and sees just what awaits him, again. another goddamn hill. and zoro, hanging there. another crack. his attention turns back on his only hope, eyes widened. “hurry up and grab onto something too, you bastard, before this ” crack ! the branch snaps; sending them down with no hope of stopping this time. he braces himself as best as he can, shielding the back of his head with his arms.
it happened fast, bouncing off odd rocks and, luckily, mainly grass. not that it stopped the pain that shot through his body with each hit but it was better than last time. actually, the landing felt a little different too he shot up quick, despite his body protesting. oops. that’s what broke his fall. "zoro..!"
inquiries meet deaf ears already by virtue of the loudly rustling leaves alone that seem to swallow up the green of his hair as he moves ahead. needless to say, the brief blackout of his mind doesn't help. nor does the several meter tumble down a very bumpy and root-riddled cliff. only very distantly does he hear the cook's ... strong suggestion to find a hold somewhere. it still reaches his synapses—familiar voice that it is—and his digits stretch out for the next-best solid piece of environment in his vicinity.
... only for it to break down easily under the force of his grip.
"..." frankly, he wouldn't even bother contemplating the consequences of his actions. his back hits the ground next thing he knows. his ears are ringing as though he'd gathered handfuls of minuscule pebbles inside of them en route down the hill. guided by instinct he sluggishly turns his head to the side, hoping to remedy the noise. ... nothing changes. a deep crease forms on his forehead; he tries the other side. the ringing continues. at long last, a strange, curly shape flashing up within the field of his vision draws his attention. the frown deepens. "... huh?" whether it's because he doesn't trust his own ability to stand upright just yet, or because he cannot quite tell what sort of trouble they're in NOW from the other man's flabbergasted look alone, he remains relatively motionless in the patch of grass that their tumbling bodies seem to have chosen as adequate landing spot. "——you say somethin'?"
water is wet but zo*ro's love language to me definitely is acts of service. he may seem uninvolved in other people's troubles at times but really he can be quite perceptive and considerate of his comrades' needs and will generally go out his way quietly to somehow improve their days. you won't see him make a fuss over it. you'll just see the results; your fav trinket that you thought got lost on the last island/in the ocean back on your nightstand, your fav book with a torn page suddenly fixed bc someone asked the resident archaeologist if she knew a way to mend it, you getting skipped over during night watch hours because he saw you yawning the whole day and is fine with a double shift. the list goes on.
this character trait expands to self-sacrificial dimensions during battle and he won't even think much of it. sometimes caring means taking several hits for others because of how aware you are that your body can endure more than most. love is proportional to the pain you can weather.
@chatcambrioleur what nami can look like after training with zoro :)
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wandering about with nami's scarf decorating his midriff in lieu of the usual bellyband.
he's messing with him, he has to be. " i think the booze has finally pickled your brain. "
that's not a no. "think it over." still, it's not like he's planning for appendage additions anytime soon. or limb losses, for that matter. as long as self-improvement remains tangible, his ribs may stay in place. "s'pose i'll do fine with three for the time being."
