The Pink Thread of Fate
A fun [OOC] drabble, because evidently spending 3 hours editing Kakashi/Iruka fandom makes One Piece dance around my brainmeats. /shakes head
I like to think that Sanji is a very cerebral person (when he's not busy dying from lust). I like this couple when they're violent and noble. Dunno how "fluff" came out of me.
I'm adding a small disclaimer to this. I really, genuinely, love One Piece, and I find any [serious] pairings immediately abhorrent. However, I think that many good stories have been told with a Zoro/Sanji theme, and my fangirly heart has been beating me into reading them (resist though I might). So I give in, because I find it enjoyable, but I do not believe that any character in the show should actually be with any other. One Piece (for me) is not about romance (unless you're talking about bromance, perhaps, or "a man's romance" in relation to fighting and striving and dying and whatnot), One Piece is about nakamaship.
The Pink String
They say--and, of course, when I say, ‘they’ I’m referring to the enigmatic presences which infiltrate and saturate the world in which I dwell--that we are connected to our destined lover by a thin red string. This string is thin but stretches wide and cannot be cut by any normal means despite it being a fragile-looking binding.
Over the years it has come to my attention that while humans are startlingly compatible with many people, and while they can live out their lives with various loves, the red string is not what is destined, but--rather--what has been created.
That is to say, since I do not believe in Destiny, I do not believe in True Loves, Destined Ones, or Soul Mates, but I do believe that the one who you cherish and who you fill the corners of your life with is, perhaps, your True Love by what you’ve made of your time with them.
Having said this, it is embarrassing to admit that I did not realize who my "True Love" was until I had already filled my life with him. Slowly, painfully slowly, I began to realize that besides my day-to-day routine, besides the big moments, besides the small ones, besides all the extra space in my head, my heart had filled with him.
Perhaps my head hadn’t noticed that he had taken up permanent residence in my heart because I always expected that couch to be filled with the delicate beauty of a woman, or perhaps I didn’t notice because he was quietly napping rather than making himself known.
Regardless, there he is, and there he’s determined to stay.
~-~
I like the color red. Red is the color of my captain’s coat, red is the color of ripe strawberries, red is the color of my alla pizzaiola, red is what I used to see when my soul mate and I argued.
Red is also the color of blood, which for this crew is a color filled with determination. We are all connected by the blood bonds of those who enter battle and live to tell the tale.
I am bound by strong red strings to all of my nakama. I would die for them, they would die for me, and we support each other as we all strive for our dreams.
So being connected by a red thread is a very important, but not a very unique thing.
But when I sit, one foot on the grass and another through the fence surrounding the upper deck, lounging with the warm weight of my destined one meditating against my side (if he were sleeping he’d be snoring), I know that we have created a bond between us that others might think was destiny from the very beginning.
That’d be cheating though, that’d be ignoring all the hard work that went into making this relationship what it is. And it was a lot of hard work.
No, despite how ridiculous it is, despite the fact that we are both men and neither of us is feminine (thank all the little islands in the Grand Line for that), I’ve decided that the thread that connects our hearts is pale red.
You see, pink is the only common shade of a color which is considered a color all on its own. And between the blushes, the pink-frosted birthday cupcakes, and the quiet sun rises... We’re surrounded by a lighter red than blood, something much sillier, brighter, soft, but no less serious.
Magenta perhaps. Because, really, ‘pink’ sounds altogether too gay.