I should probably apologize for these in advance.
I've been struggling with Writer's Block recently, so I figured I'd take a break from the angsty stuff I was working on and cleanse my soul with some refreshing crack.
So I wrote a bunch of really stupid fics.
Title: Twins
Rating: PG-13 (really it's pretty much G with some swearing)
Characters: Ganauche III and Coyote Nougat
Notes/Warnings: Spoilers for the newest arc, I guess? Also warning for general stupidity.
Summary: It's not that the Nonos are completely useless; it's just that they don't really give a damn.
The phone rang just as Ganauche III was stepping out of the shower, wringing the excess water from his sexy mop of hair with a towel, his body freshly reinvigorated with the scent of Swagger by Old Spice. Wrapping another towel around his waist, he stepped into the bedroom and picked up the receiver. “Hello?”
“Ganauche?” the old-man voice on the other end rasped.
“Coyote? Wow, long time no hear. What’s up, Big Guy?” He always called Coyote ‘Big Guy’ even though Coyote was not in fact abnormally large (though he was at least a guy). He did this out of a deep-seated belief that any man with a gray shoulder-length mullet who went around with a name like Coyote Nougat ought to be referred to by some sort of nickname just on principle. And since Ganauche was not particularly good at coming up with nicknames (his specialties lay more along the areas of, I don’t know, kicking ass), there it was.
“Bad news, I’m afraid,” Big Guy said, sounding grim. Ganauche waited, expecting to hear something along the lines of ‘my cane broke again.’ Or some other old person problem.
“The boss has been kidnapped,” Coyote said instead, and Ganauche had to admit, he was kind of taken by surprise.
Really taken by surprise, actually. “What?” he asked as he wrenched his towel back up to his waist from where it had gradually been sliding down to rest enticingly on his hips.
“I said, someone kidnapped the boss,” Coyote repeated. “Xanxus, I think it was. And the Varia. Those fuckers.”
“When was this?”
“Um. Like... a few days ago, I guess?”
“--And you guys just let it happen?!”
“Hey! In case you forgot, we’re retired now, brat!”
“I would think something like the boss getting fucking kidnapped would warrant coming out of retirement for a few days!”
“Well, we would have, if someone had actually bothered to tell us about it before now!”
Suddenly Ganauche had the stark, deer-in-headlights sensation that he’d just walked into a trap.
“Which brings me to the other reason I called. Ganauche... why the hell weren’t you there?!”
“Uh.” He swallowed. “I was on vacation.”
“On vacation.”
“Yeah.”
“In Tijuana.”
How did he know--but wait, if he had called here, then of course he must have figured it out. “Yeah.”
“Why?”
“...Because that’s how I roll?”
“And who the hell was supposed to be protecting the Ninth while you were off perving on drunken college girls in fucking Tijuana?!”
“What, do you expect me to think through the potential consequences of all of my actions every single time?” Ganauche sputtered, aghast.
“When you’re the one who’s supposed to be guarding our precious boss, yes!”
“Well, what about the other guardians?” Ganauche tried, feeling that he was being unfairly saddled with more than his fair share of the blame here.
“What about them?”
“They exist!”
“...Yes,” Coyote acknowledged after a minute, somewhat reluctantly.
“So why aren’t you yelling at them for not doing a better job?”
Coyote’s only answer was a silence that said perfectly well that they both knew the other guardians did not count and people hardly even knew their fucking names so don’t even try it.
“Fine,” Ganauche acquiesced after a long pause. “...So, uh. Is he, you know... okay?”
“...Yeah, apparently the Decimo and his friends rescued him.”
“Oh, those kids?” Ganauche perked up.
“Yeah, the ones from Japan.”
“All right, awesome! So why are you even calling me, then?”
“What do you mean, why--”
“Dude, I’ve got a date with twins in like an hour.” He checked his watch. “--Forty-five minutes, actually. So if that’s it and everything’s fine, then I gotta go.”
“Ganauche--!”
“Say hi to the boss for me, tell him my bad. Won’t happen again. Hope he feels better.”
“You little shit, if you even think about hanging up--!!”
Ganauche plunked the receiver back down, humming brightly as he cut the Big Guy off. Sure, Coyote might be a little pissed off now, but no harm done; teachable moment and all that. He’d calm down as soon as he found himself a crossword puzzle or some prune juice or something.
Besides, right now, Ganauche III had more important things to worry about. Like motherfucking twins.
Oh yeah, baby.
It’s on.
Title: Mi Casa es Su Casa
Rating: PG-13 (again, for language only)
Characters: Primos!
Notes/Warnings: Spoilers through chapter 299, as well as for the Primo Arc in the anime. Further warnings for "god why would someone write this."
Summary: After spoilers happen, Primo and several of his guardians find themselves temporarily homeless.
“You guys, it’s really cramped in here,” Ugetsu de gozarued unhappily.
“Well, you should have thought of that before your ring didn’t get smashed to pieces like all the rest of ours,” G sulked.
In truth, he wasn’t any more pleased with the situation than the Rain Guardian was. It was, in fact, cramped, and it didn’t help that that fucker D. Spade was beaming lecherously at them all from off in the corner, and it also didn’t help that it was starting to get really hot in here too. This last part was mostly because there were six fully grown men all cramped inside one small metaphysical place, but part of G secretly suspected it was also because one of those men still insisted on having a live flame burning on his forehead.
“Boss,” he tried delicately, “have you, uh, considered turning that off? You know, just until we all get out of here?”
“No,” said Giotto, and G sighed. He resigned himself to the fact that no amount of pleading or logic would convince his best friend to stop being on fire.
“Ah, well. We’ll all just have to suck it up to the extreme,” said Knuckle.
“I rather like it, actually,” Spade smiled.
G fought the kneejerk urge to pump a round of bullets into that annoying expression. “I still don’t get why he has to be here,” he complained.
“He’s a guardian too, G,” his boss pointed out. “Or was, anyway.”
“You can at least go make him stay at Lampo’s instead.”
“Lampo already refused to take him, and I won’t force him against his will.”
“Perhaps you should go stay with Lampo instead, if my presence disturbs you so much,” suggested Spade.
“I don’t want to stay at Lampo’s place,” pouted G. “It smells like bubblegum,” he added under his breath.
“It does...” Knuckle agreed thoughtfully.
“Does anyone else want to go stay with Lampo?” Ugetsu asked, looking around. When his query was met with a defeating silence, he signed and began to play a mournful tune on his flute.
“No music,” broke in Alaude with a sharp glance. “It’s bad enough that I already have to put up with this crowd.” He said this in spite of the fact that he had already managed to establish a personal space bubble that far exceeded any of theirs, with the exception of Spade, who also had some three or four feet of clearance on either side of him that the others had given him voluntarily. (He had Mist Cooties.)
“It’s my ring,” Ugetsu said reasonably, “and I will play music if I want to.” But he did, after a moment, slide another two feet away from Alaude’s murderous glare, even though this put him far too close to G’s buzz-off-sword-freak-you’re-too-close elbow. And do you think G used that elbow on him for all it was worth? You bet he did, and with no regrets, either.
“Violence isn’t the answer, G,” Knuckle admonished.
“Like hell it isn’t,” muttered G.
“I agree,” said Alaude, and abruptly he stood up, whipping out his handcuffs and starting forward.
“You wanna go?” G asked, reaching into his pocket for his gun.
Spade laughed, apparently enjoying the show, and both G and Alaude turned and redirected their glares at him. Spade only grinned and leaned back, beckoning them lazily, inviting them to fight.
“Guys, it’s only been like fifteen minutes, you cannot possibly be resorting to a brawl already,” Ugetsu whined. When none of the three acknowledged him, he turned plaintively to Giotto. “Boss, please put a stop to this.”
“Gentlemen,” said Primo, and then all three did pause for a moment to look over. “Not inside Ugetsu’s home.”
“Giotto, come on,” G protested. “We don’t need either of these guys here, they only make trouble.”
“And you can’t order me around, I’m afraid,” Spade said with polite scorn.
Alaude said nothing at all, but merely turned his attention back to Spade a moment later, ignoring Giotto entirely.
Giotto blinked. Then he turned to look at Ugetsu. Ugetsu looked at him.
“You know, I think I’ll go to Lampo’s place after all,” Knuckle said apropos of nothing, and a moment later he vanished.
Then a loud crash sounded in the brawling corner, and the three fighters disappeared into a cloud of smoke, from which the occasional grunt and curse could be heard.
Giotto and Ugetsu watched for a moment, and then Giotto shrugged. “Well, I tried.”
Ugetsu closed his eyes and brought his flute to his lips.
The brawl continued on as the hollowly cheerful notes of a particularly melancholy version of ‘Skip to My Lou’ filled the air, and the first generation of the Vongola family settled in to wait for their homes to be repaired by an old guy and a jar of blood.
(For some reason, I picture the inside of the Vongola rings being like the bottle the girl lived inside of in I Dream of Jeannie.)
Title: Tornado Punch
Rating: PG
Characters: Gokudera and Yamamoto
Notes/Warnings: May contain some butchering of your childhood.
Summary: In which Gokudera and Yamamoto have a Pokemon battle, because they can.
“Jirou! I choose you!” The Akita Inu appeared in a flash of blue light.
“Go! Uri!!” Uri burst into existence and immediately tried to claw Gokudera’s face off. Caught somewhere between exasperation and embarrassment, Gokudera made a sort of hissing noise and pried the cat back off. “No, Uri, him, attack him!”
Yamamoto laughed. “Jirou, use Water Gun!”
“Jirou!” cried Jirou as little blasts of water jetted out in Uri’s direction. “Jirou!”
“Ha! Like such a pathetic attack could take us out!” mocked Gokudera, looking as self-satisfied as you’ve ever seen him. “Uri! Let’s show them what we’re made of! Flamethrower!”
“Uri!” meowed Uri, opening his mouth (yeah, Uri’s a dude in this fic, what) and spewing out molten jets of flame.
“Whoa! Look out, Jirou!” Yamamoto called, and Jirou dodged obediently. “Good job!” said Yamamoto, pumping his fist. “Okay, let’s hit them back! Use Surf!”
“Jirouuuu!” Jirou growled as a giant tidal wave appeared behind him somehow and then barreled past without hitting him because of course it was aimed at Uri, and it would just be silly if Jirou got hit by his own attack. It’s not like he was Confused or something.
“Uri!” cried Gokudera as the little cat was tossed asunder. “Shit...” he muttered, a drop of sweat appearing on his brow. “I forgot, Fire types are weak against Water!”
“You forgot?” Yamamoto chuckled with one arm behind his head, looking all, ‘lol, what?’
“Shut up! Uri... you fought well, but it just wasn’t enough after all. Looks like I’ll have to swap you out. Return!” He held out his box, and Uri vanished in a beam of light. Then Gokudera reached for his belt and selected another box.
“Garyuu! Go!” he shouted, and an eager-looking kangaroo appeared, ready to do battle.
“Does Ryohei know you borrowed that?” Yamamoto asked.
“He won’t miss it,” Gokudera said evasively before assuming one of those gung-ho POINTING STANCES that are so popular in Pokemon and also Phoenix Wright. A spotlight fell on him. “NOW!” he shouted. “Garyuu! TORNADO PUNCH!”
“Tornado Punch?” Yamamoto mused.
“That’s an attack, isn’t it?”
“Maybe...”
“Well, whatever, it is now. Get him, Garyuu! Tornado Punch!!”
“GARYUU!” screamed Garyuu with the fire of combat burning in his eyes. “GA...” He leaned back, raising his fist. “...RYUU!!!” With a mighty swing, he shifted forward and nailed Jirou right in the snout.
“Jirou!” cried Yamamoto, lunging forward to catch his faithful friend as he sailed through the air. “Damn... okay, you’ve done enough! Return!” A moment later, Jirou was gone, and Yamamoto’s ring clicked into another box. “Go! Kojirou!”
Kojirou appeared and did a little show-offy barrel roll in the air to demonstrate that he was ready to rock and roll.
“Looking good, Kojirou!” Yamamoto said. “Okay...” A glint of steely determination set in his eyes. “Let’s finish this... Waterfall!”
A huge crest of water rose up and roared toward poor Garyuu.
“Evade, Garyuu!” Gokudera called. “Use Agility!”
Garyuu randomly began to zigzag in all directions like a pinball, successfully avoiding the wave.
“Don’t give up, Kojirou!” Yamamoto shouted. “One last try! Ice Beam!”
“How the hell does your stupid swallow know Ice Beam?” Gokudera demanded, flipping rapidly through the strategy guide to see if Kojirous can indeed acquire that technique (they can!). “Damn it!”
“Kojirou!” Kojirou chirped as a ray of pure white light charged in his beak. “KOJIROUUUUU!” The light shot forward, a frigid blast.
“Dodge it, Garyuu!” Gokudera called desperately, but alas, the poor kangaroo was hit dead-on in mid-evasive leap and plummeted back to the ground, where he stood there frozen in place as a sparkling new Garyuusicle.
“Nooo!” cried Gokudera, throwing up his hands dramatically and dropping to his knees in despair.
“Haha! You did it, Kojirou! Way to go, buddy!” Yamamoto held out his hand and the little swallow fluttered to it in triumph as the theme from the Rocky films played in the background.
“Next time...” said Gokudera, glaring at the innocent ground and clenching a trembling fist. “We’ll definitely do it next time, guys!”
“Garyuu...” murmured Garyuu from within his block of ice.
“Heh, we’ll look forward to it!” said Yamamoto brightly. He returned Kojirou to his box, and when Gokudera had done the same with Garyuu, slung a cheerful arm around the Storm Guardian. “Anyway, so I guess that means you owe me a Coke, Gokudera!”
Grumbling under his breath, Gokudera began fishing around in his pockets for change, and together, the two of them walked off into the sunset.
YOU MAY COMMENCE LOSING ANY RESPECT YOU MIGHT HAVE ONCE HAD FOR ME.