@onceabluemoonwrites / onceabluemoonwrites.tumblr.com
ask meme: next
For Three Mantles and a Fedora: aka, the Reborn Origin and Life fic.
‘’He puts all the furniture two centimeters to the left. Timoteo’s stumbling is delightful for as long as it lasts, but Daniela falls for it too, which means Renato spends two weeks having his homework ’eaten by the dog’ because his zia is petty as hell.
He likes her style. ‘’
A gift for @i-w-p-chan. We got to discussing favorite characters, and she mentioned how there isn’t enough Ricardo content out there. So I offered to generate some. Sadly it ended up growing when I wasn’t looking, so it’s a bit longer than originally planned.
0-0-0-0-0-0
“You sealed him?!”
Daniela’s got the right tone of voice going on, her Flames flickering erratically on her forehead in her anger. Ricardo doesn’t know why she’s so upset; her son’s been pulling stupid decisions out of his ass since birth.
“It was the right choice to make,” Timoteo says, firm even in the direct line of his mother’s wrath. Foolish, given Daniela’s struck down men bigger and meaner than him even at her weakest. “If his Flame had burned brighter–”
“So what?” Daniela demands venomously. “So what if a boy with Giotto’s blood in his veins had usurped our own line? He is still Vongola, still one of us. How many times did I tell you growing up that no matter what happens, we are always one. We stand as one, we fall as one, and nobody is left behind, not even the dead. You’ve destroyed that boy over pride, and it’s not you that’s going to be dealing with the consequences, you idiot!”
She’s halfway out of her chair now, looking more than ready to leap the remaining distance and strangle her son. Timoteo continues to look stubborn and unrepentant throughout it all, which isn’t helping his case one bit. In the end, Settimo coaxes his daughter down, even as he shakes his head over Timoteo’s foolishness. Even the weakest of their lot would never seal a child.
“A child,” Ricardo says, and Timoteo stiffens. The old man has always feared him, him and his Wrath. “You truly have no boundaries.” He unfolds himself from his own chair like a great stork, and sighs as he feels every ounce of his age come back to him. “Giotto, I’m going.”
“You don’t have to–” Daniela starts.
“Yes, I do,” Ricardo interrupts. “Because your idiot boy refuses to learn, refuses to listen and refuses to fix his own fucking mistakes. So I’m going to fix them for him, starting with his seal and ending with his ignorance.” He looks over his shoulder. “By the time that boy shows up on your doorstep, you’ll wish he hadn’t.”
Timoteo’s lips gain a pinched look, but he says nothing. As always.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Namimori is a quaint little town that reminds Ricardo a lot of Portofino. It’s quiet and homely, with pockets of activity here and there, but the same steady pace no matter where he goes. Granted they don’t live alongside the ocean and have fishing as a main export, but still the basic idea stands.
He finds the boy easily enough; allowing his Flames to uncurl like a great sleeping dragon and seek out the baby Flames shrieking in agony. He finds him in a hospital (a wise choice) in a bed, burning with fever and thrashing about as he sleeps. He only looks to be six or so, and that only increases the disgust he feels over Timoteo’s actions even more. On a seat next to the bed is a young woman, sound asleep, tear tracks on her face. The mother, most likely.
He peels off one of the black gloves he wears, and lays time-scarred skin against the boy’s forehead. He can feel the Flames there below the seal, still fighting to get out. If the seal is allowed to stay, eventually the Flames will stop fighting, and whenever they come out - whether by choice or chance - they will sear him with the force of his own Flame. He can’t have that.
He wraps the boy in his own Flames like a blanket to shield him, and then jams a ‘needle’ of Flame under the seal and pushes.
The seal is strong, but Ricardo Mantione di Vongola hasn’t spent his life building an empire simply to be thwarted by a mere seal. So he digs deeper, the great redwood shifting its roots, and pushes harder.
And eventually, the seal yields.
It pops off, and immediately the boy’s Flames try to burn him. The wall Ricardo’s put between the Flames and the boy prevent that, the sensation not unlike stinging nettles to the face. He bears it, and begins to wrap a portion of his Flames around the boy’s to soothe them back down to their proper manifestation.
All told, it takes him two hours when he looks at the clock again. The woman is waking, and the sun is setting. The boy - Tsunayoshi - is quiet, his leftover fever breaking even as Ricardo stands there. Their last heir remains alive, at least for now.
Ricardo draws his hand back, and sits in the second chair across from the bed. He feels tired; it’s been a long while since he’s had to go up against something that requires so much effort. And being a dead man doesn’t prevent him feeling tired, not when he’s outside the Ring.
He expects this will be the end of the troubles for a time, and prepares to dissipate back into the Ring.
Except.
Except the woman on the other side of the bed can apparently see him, and feel the weight of Flames, or at least what he’s done to Tsunayoshi. She’s staring at him, wide-eyed in wonderment. “What did you do to my son?”
“You can see me?” he demands.
“He doesn’t feel– sick anymore, he doesn’t– what did you–”
That’s as far as she gets, unfortunately, because Ricardo whips himself back into the Ring in the next moment, leaving her with her son.
“It’s done,” he says as he takes his seat again. Jabs a finger at Timoteo. “Don’t ever fucking do that again, or you won’t have to worry about old age because you won’t live to see your next birthday.”
Timoteo flinches from that, but nobody contradicts him. Ricardo settles back for a long nap, content that he’s done his part for now.
0-0-0-0-0-0
Of course, even with the seal off, there are still chances of complications. Complications like the baby Sky launching into an early puberty as a result, and his Flames starting to call for Guardians long before his body is actually ready for such a thing. Ricardo groans when he hears about it from Giotto, and ressolves next time to just keep his damn help to himself.
“Fuck,” he swears as he stares down at a similar sight. Tsunayoshi in his own bed, writhing and sweating like mad, but this time his Flames are calling out, trying to coax viable Flame candidates closer. Ricardo bats them aside when they turn their attention towards him, and tugs his glove off again.
Unfortunately, there is no ‘quick fix’ for this kind of behavior. Timoteo’s choice to seal Tsunayoshi’s Flames, even temporarily, has left a lot of damage and fucked up a lot of shit that should have been on a set timer. If that seal hadn’t made contact, the baby Sky wouldn’t have started looking for Guardians until he hit fifteen or sixteen, and even then he would have only been expressing interest. The actual courting measures wouldn’t have started until he got up a little in age where consent was no longer an issue, and if he chose to shore up a bond through use of copious amounts of sex, nobody would bat an eye.
But now that timer has been demolished, and if the baby Sky doesn’t at least have a single Guardian attach soon, it’ll likely kill him, or at least leave him tired, achy and on a single-minded search for something he doesn’t actually know exists yet. He won’t know what he needs, just that he needs it. It’ll drive him crazy, and he likely won’t find it until much later, by which point his Flames could start tearing themselves apart.
Fucking Timoteo and his goddamned pride.
He rips the other glove off, and calls up his Wrath. Immediately the baby Sky Flames start reaching for him, but he bats them aside again, and then pins them for good measure. He doesn’t need the brat’s help here. He pulls threats of Storm from the Sky, just enough to create a Guardian bond with. If there comes a better candidate down the line, he’ll gladly step aside, but for now he needs to be here at least to hold the kid down and prevent him going mad.
He weaves it loose, making sure to pour as many parental feelings into it as possible. It isn’t hard to think of Tsunayoshi like his youngest; and Tsunayoshi’s father seems more content to spend his time overseas than with his actual family. So they’ll both be getting something out of this, even if the start of it certainly isn’t either of their ideas of fun.
Slowly, the Sky Flames settle, content with the new bond. For a second, it’s like being back home and realizing he’d just arrived in time to hold the newest son his wife had given him. That moment when the little baby’s Flames had reached out to his, and Ricardo had realized just how small and fragile they were, how easily he could be harmed.
He sighs, and smooths a hand through Tsuna’s sweaty locks. “You and me, kid,” he murmurs. “I’ll show you how we survive.”
And if Tsuna’s Flames burrow a little bit closer to his as he speaks, it’s probably just his nostalgia talking.
(He’s going to be in so much trouble with Giotto after this, he just knows it.)
BLESS HRAAP
KHR headcanon that Gokudera spends the entire manga cursing vividly and fluidly in Italian and the others learn by exposure, like, they have no idea what the words mean, but they know it’s bad. Just imagine Tsuna losing his patience with Iemitsu/Nono/9th gen and just launching into a long tirade of the most colorful, filthiest expletives Gokudera has ever said in his hearing, all while wearing the most innocent smile he can muster up. Or Yamamoto cheerfully cursing at his opponents and laughing as they fall in fits of apoplectic rage, imagine Squalo’s reaction when Yamamoto answers his cursing with even worse words.
Timoteo/Gran Torino? *cackles*
Unholy Inspiration dropped by my inbox and their name is Blue
I’m honestly torn between ‘C: Not a bad ship‘ and ‘D: I’m neutral on it‘ because you just made this up to see what I’ll do with it, huh?
YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID?
now I have IDEAS for little details, like dramatic, forbidden love affairs (a mafia boss and a pro hero) and Enrico calling Gran Torino ‘father’
and shenanigans because of Gran Torino’s hero name
Guilty as charged and that is now claimed as my Title Royale.
Also, I LOVE the ideas!
kingsman fusion - tsuna doesn’t remember his childhood, grew up accepting that he probably never will and often wonders how the hell his mum and himself even have so much money lying around , only to get bombarded by a traumatising memory when he met a secret service agent sent by his ‘grandfather’
Oh my GOd. I am HERE for this! And your tags! AAAAAAAAAAAAAAh!
Painted Blind
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Summary: Timoteo dies young and Iemitsu becomes Vongola Nono.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Follow my writing progress here.
Chapter 1
Drip-drop, drip-drop, drip.
Night falls and Nana’s world grows wide, her mind expanding in the darkness. When illuminated, she can see the walls, feel the walls, but where there is no light there is no wall to be seen. There could be a cliff in front of her and she’d walk off and fall, fall, fall into the abyss. None the wiser.
It’s like space, the terrifying idea of there being no limit, before realizing that there being a limit might even be scarier. The universe in a box. The thought makes her claustrophobic. But a box one can open. A coffin? No can do.
And just like that, Nana thinks when night falls.
Of the woman lying next to her, of the child in the nursery down the hall, of the lightning crackling outside her window, and that she does not need eyes to love.
Love is blind and only in darkness, she discovered why.
Timoteo di Vongola was careful, but never quite cautious enough. His mother has known this since his birth and curses it even beyond his death. Daniela di Vongola, vibrant, stark and alive even in mourning garb. It’s a suit, immaculate as always. Crisp white against pitch black, rain dripping off her nose- or tears perhaps? - as she sets her son’s pyre alight.
The boat holding his body floats out into the open sea. Bowing over, she places her foot in the hook and straightens her leg. The pier creaks as she raises the crossbow, feeding it flames. The crackling is deafening in the silence.
She lets go. The burning quarrel hits it’s mark like a dream- or no, a nightmare- flames spreading.
He was an idiot, her boy. An idiot who drank too much and got shot in the head like the fool he was. By his date, of course. Who else? The Vongola like the taste of power rooted in fatality, their love a flower in a sea of fire. Timoteo was no different.
Her boy, gone like that.
As the funeral attendees avert their gazes from Ottavo’s visage, Daniela’s face turns to stone. She needs to be strong. For her famiglia, if nothing else.
The flames dance like a wildfire, reducing her son’s corpse to ashes. Their message is loud and clear:
The Vongola is heirless.
The shadows open their gaping maws and sharpen their fangs.
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Summary: Timoteo dies young and Iemitsu becomes Vongola Nono.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Follow my writing progress here.
My fic master list here.
Chapter 1
Drip-drop, drip-drop, drip.
Night falls and Nana’s world grows wide, her mind expanding in the darkness. When illuminated, she can see the walls, feel the walls, but where there is no light there is no wall to be seen. There could be a cliff in front of her and she’d walk off and fall, fall, fall into the abyss. None the wiser.
It’s like space, the terrifying idea of there being no limit, before realizing that there being a limit might even be scarier. The universe in a box. The thought makes her claustrophobic. But a box one can open. A coffin? No can do.
And just like that, Nana thinks when night falls.
Of the woman lying next to her, of the child in the nursery down the hall, of the lightning crackling outside her window, and that she does not need eyes to love.
Love is blind and only in darkness, she discovered why.
Timoteo di Vongola was careful, but never quite cautious enough. His mother has known this since his birth and curses it even beyond his death. Daniela di Vongola, vibrant, stark and alive even in mourning garb. It’s a suit, immaculate as always. Crisp white against pitch black, rain dripping off her nose- or tears perhaps? - as she sets her son’s pyre alight.
The boat holding his body floats out into the open sea. Bowing over, she places her foot in the hook and straightens her leg. The pier creaks as she raises the crossbow, feeding it flames. The crackling is deafening in the silence.
She lets go. The burning quarrel hits it’s mark like a dream- or no, a nightmare- flames spreading.
He was an idiot, her boy. An idiot who drank too much and got shot in the head like the fool he was. By his date, of course. Who else? The Vongola like the taste of power rooted in fatality, their love a flower in a sea of fire. Timoteo was no different.
Her boy, gone like that.
As the funeral attendees avert their gazes from Ottavo’s visage, Daniela’s face turns to stone. She needs to be strong. For her famiglia, if nothing else.
The flames dance like a wildfire, reducing her son’s corpse to ashes. Their message is loud and clear:
The Vongola is heirless.
The shadows open their gaping maws and sharpen their fangs.
someone has the guts to ask xanxus if he ever had good memories of the ninth and he just takes out a photo album
but its filled w pictures of him and gola mosca at the playground, getting ice cream, and gola mosca pushing him on the swing
your comments,,,,,thank you sm........I was so apathetic™ when I got outta bed anD NOW I'M ALIVE AND READY TO FACE THE WORLD!!11! I'm,,,wasdfrgt... so grateful,,,,*insert more incoherent babbling*
I’m glad I could cheer you up! The fic was absolutely amazing!
Psst, everyone! @otaku-alert wrote a Xanxus Tsuna swap fic and it’s amazing!
Title: I’ll Be Decimo
Author: @otaku-alert (Booksindalibrary)
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pairing: None (yet)
Summary: ‘’Xanxus is fourteen years old and the wannabe banchou of Namimori Middle. A baby home tutor shows up at his doorstep, and wait - he’s to be a mafia boss?! That sounds fun.
Tsunayoshi is the bastard son of Timoteo, boss of Varia - and he wants to be Decimo.
*An AU where Xanxus and Tsuna have switched places but all else holds true (within their character limitations).*’’
My personal summary of the fic: Better than canon, crazy (and super fun and interesting) Tsuna and Xanxus is pretty much: “Fuck everyone and everything except my mom.” (NANA is Xanxus mother, people. It is Amazing™ )
I'm not good at coming up with titles T^T but... KHR, 'Three Jackets and a Hat'?
For this ask prompt
This is KHR, so ‘’Hat’’ automatically became ‘’Fedora’’ in my head, and then the jackets followed suit, so I know you were probably expecting 001827 (Which could’ve been a fun fic with Reborn causing chaos and Broad, Cherry-Blossom-chan and Tuna trying to get their quality time- total fluff), but I’m giving you something else instead.
Jackets became ‘’Mantles’’.
Yes. I went there. ‘’Three Mantles and a Fedora’’, Rebirth as described by Reborn. You made me write fic. You made me headcanon. So now Skies steal people off the streets to adopt, and of course, Daniela snatches small Renato right out of the hands of his flame-active Mist of a father (Renato decided to follow Miss Orange Sundown himself, thank you very much). Somehow this ends up with seven-year-old Renato at university, getting a math degree, and calculating the angles it would take to let his paper plane land exactly in the right place to cockblock his zia’s annoying son Timoteo (the horny bastard).
I’ve planned some stuff out already, even written the beginning, but you know how I work- I have no idea if it’s gonna be angst-deeper-than-my-grandma’s-closet or so self-indulgent I’m gonna make you cry from laughter (hopefully ;P)
So here, to end this chaotic post: the timeline!
Fandom: Katekyo Hitman Reborn
Pairings: 0027, sibling!Bianchi&Tsuna
Summary: ‘’They task Bianchi with his fucking assassination training.’’ Poison burns when it goes down the throat.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Warnings: Poison.
Part of the 0027 Population Project.
They task Bianchi with his fucking assassination training.
‘’…How many times a day will I have to check my food for poison?’’
‘’None.’’
‘’You’re just saying that to catch me off-guard.’’
She smiles over her shoulder. It should be simple, should be quick, but something lingering in her gaze doesn’t sit well with him. Her chin is tucked close to her neck, her hair falling around her like a waterfall.
White teeth, strawberry lips. At the curl of the mouth, Tsuna inches away.
She’s not the sisterly figure she’s become to him in the last few months anymore. He knew it was there all along, that it crawled underneath her olive skin, but seeing the scorpion emerge from the shifting sands makes him laugh nervously. It’s loud, too loud, and it echoes in the room until it falls dead in silence.
She doesn’t say a thing.
He swallows, his pulse racing.
Everything about her screams danger.
‘’…I don’t want to learn how to kill people, Bianchi.’’ He cuts to the chase. Trying to distract her isn’t going to help him. And right now? He’d give anything to get her soft, sweet eyes back, instead of this eerie gaze. Her green eyes glow in the late afternoon sun.
He is terrified, but at least he knows this danger.
She chuckles, low and humorless. ‘’You’ll have to, darling.’’
‘’…And what if I still refuse?’’ She’s going to hit him. He knows for sure. It’s what Reborn always does in this kind of situation, after all. And there is no one Bianchi idolizes more than the World’s Greatest Hitman.
She sits down on his table, raining her nails down on the surface. The tapping is strangely relaxing. ‘’Then you’ll die.’’
He freezes. There’s a lump in his throat. ‘’You’d go that far?’’
She tilts her head to the side, tresses of hair sliding off her shoulders. A yawn. Her hand covers her mouth in a delicate gesture. ‘’I wouldn’t have to.’’
Tsuna’s brows draw together. ‘’What…’’
She sighs deeply, jerks her finger to make her command known. He shuffles closer cautiously.
‘’I could teach you everything from how to shoot a man from a hundred feet away, to slipping poison into his food so it will go undetected. I could tell you that you have to become Decimo. That you have to learn how to kill, that the Cosa Nostra will force you. But in the end, it won’t change your mind.’’
He nods shakily, but certain.
She lifts his chin, fingers digging into his jaw, and whispers, cat eyes glowing: ‘’Then you’ll agree, little brother, to learn.’’
His reply is breathless. ‘’Why?’’
‘’Because you’ll need it. As of now, you’re powerless. Defeated the man who took over the world, but powerless none the less. You don’t know how to play their game. You don’t know how to stop them. They’ll force you and you won’t be able to do a damn thing about it.
What I think of it doesn’t matter. If you become Decimo, you’ll need to know exactly how to kill the right way, and all the specific kind of murder needed for specific occasions. If you don’t become Decimo, you’ll need to stop them with your own hands.’’
She gives him a bit room. ‘’Now I ask you, are you willing to learn?’’
He bites his lip, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath.
Exhale.
‘’Teach me.’’
There’s not a single tremble.
(He’ll burn the world down if he has to)
Nine months later, Timoteo Vongola dies in his sleep. It was peaceful, his guardians say, a merciful death for a mafioso.
Nobody detects a trace of poison, except for the wine from last night, but Nonno’s adopted grandson brought the wine in with a cheerful smile. It was safe, all agree.
(That said grandson lost nearly everything at the age of four at Timoteo’s hand through the means of a flame, a seal, and abandonment… Nonno buried his secrets deep. It’s just that his secrets buried him deeper)
Documents proving Xanxus di Vongola’s pure, Vongolean ancestry turn up on Oregano’s desk. She knows better than to ask questions.
Iemitsu retired last week and his son is not the one she nominates for Decimo.
The former Decimo candidate sits in the pews, surrounded by his guardians, beaming and clapping as Timoteo’s youngest son is inaugurated.
At the banquet afterward, some ask what he is planning to do now he is not becoming Boss.
Sawada Tsunayoshi glows. ‘’I was planning to help Enma restore his ancestral home,’’ He gestures to the man holding his hand.
His date.
The bosses recoil.
My God, how didn’t they notice him before?
The man is tall, taller than Decimo by far, has shoulders broader than their wives’ closets, eyes like the setting sun and hair redder than a fire engine. By all means, he should have been the first person they spotted when entering the building.
His sheer lack of presence is uncanny, like the ladder in front of the door you’ve ducked around so many times that it has become invisible, only to shock you when someone else points it out. They shiver.
‘’Something wrong, gentlemen?’’ Not-Decimo’s cloyingly sweet smile has gained fangs in the meantime and the bosses can’t scramble away quickly enough.
In their wake, they hear his voice. ‘’Aww, I wanted to tell them about my apprenticeship with Bianchi-nee!’’
The quiet chuckle of his companion does nothing to reassure them.
Behind his wine, Tsuna smiles. Excellent year, glides over the tongue. So fruity, honeyed, you’d never guess the toxic nature of alcohol alone, even without anything else interesting mixed in.
Poison burns when it goes down the throat.
Nobody tells Tsuna what to do.
Coward’s weapon, it might be, but dead men tell no tales.
‘’Everywhere the devil spits, poison ivy grows.’’’
-Alan Chadwick.
