From Sacred and Profane:
Genre Prompt
Write at least five drabbles based off of different genres from whatever you like for whatever character/pairing you like.
Hrm - crack open the bubbly, madness shall ensue! Meet KalifaxKumadori and CrocodilexKeimi!
Horror:
"H-how could such a horrible place exist?"
Keimi shivered in fear and revulsion at the gigantic expanse of burning sand that stretched before her for hundreds of miles. She instinctively stepped back into the relatively cool shadow of her new owner and master.
She would cry, but she had a hunch that tears were very precious and scarce in this arid country.
A large, dry, itchy hand fell on her shoulders. If it was supposed to be reassuring, her owner had failed miserably. Since her owner was Crocodile, the former Shichibukai and ex-leader of the secret society, Baroque Works, it was more likely meant to scare her out of her few remaining wits.
His scratchy voice, like an annoying itch under her back scales after lounging on a beach (this is no beach! Beaches have water!) made her want to scream again and again and again and again and-
"Drink."
The canteen was presented before her face, dangling from the cruelly sharp tip of his notorious hook. Oh God. She hated hooks.
[~]
Keimi woke up with terror closing her throat, madness skirting around the edges of her mind. Suddenly uncomfortable, she twisted and turned frantically until she could use her nails on her back.
She bit her lip till her teeth pierced the soft flesh. The strange, irritating sand on her fingers was stained pink with her blood.
[~]
As he shaded the sobbing, screaming mermaid in his cape, Crocodile wondered again what Doflamingo meant by giving her to him as a 'reward' for helping Straw-hat Luffy escape.
He also wondered if mermaid flesh really granted immortality...
[~]
Crocodile woke up languorously, still shackled and chained in his cell on Level 6.
He smiled cruelly as a new flavor burst onto his lips.
[~~~]
Romantic comedy:
She was the executive assistant and paralegal for one of the most ruthless corporate lawyer in an illustrious law firm in the city.
He was a down-and-out Broadway actor sleeping at the YMCA and working part-time jobs to survive.
How the heck did this happen?
[~]
Kalifa blinked at the roguish fellow with the ridiculously light blonde/pink hair swept back in a high ponytail. Why, the hair was longer and broader than the athletically-inclined bike messenger dripping all over her doormat and looking at her with adoration in his eyes-
"Under Penal Code -"
Kumadori was startled to learn how many things could be considered inappropriate acts bordering on felonious sexual harassment when his lecturer was standing in her doorway dressed in a towel.
He would forever feel guilty for not letting her know that the towel was slipping a little further down every time she futilely stabbed a perfectly-manicured finger into his chest...
[~]
Kalifa had no idea why she'd taken the imbecile's tickets to such a ratty looking off-Broadway show.
"Yoyoi! Let me bare my throat to your cruel intentions as a token of apology~!"
The paralegal massaged her temples. Ah, yes, now she remembered why - so the bumbling moron wouldn't kill himself on her doorstep with his fake rubber sword. Bloody hell, it'd only been a light scolding! No need for the theatrics!
"So why the hell am I here?" she asked herself in annoyance as she gingerly sat down on the shabby, sticky theater seat.
"Kalifa, go on a date with Jyabura, get him liquored, and get him talking. Tonight."
Ah, yes, indeed. She was here because she felt dirty and used after following Lucci's instructions and dealing with the ill-disguised wolf in human flesh, Jyabura of Cock's Crow Productions. She couldn't get any drunker and she'd almost scrubbed her skin off under the hotel's shower, thanking all known and unknown entities that she'd gotten the slobbering lecher to pass out before he could get it in. The only thing she wanted to do right now was drown in bad acting instead of her sorrows.
[~]
How the heck had this happened?
Kalifa laid awake in the embrace of toned arms and flowing pink hair. Her cheeks were damp, still damp from Kumadori's performance. Without leaving her seat, she had been transported to the stage next to him, twirling, dipping, and leaping in synchronized effort. His singing left her mind clean, empty, and revitalized, driving away every thought and implanting the emotion he wanted her - and the audience - to feel. She had no concrete thought in her mind when she went backstage in the ramshackle building, but he'd taken one look at her, hugged her, and took her to bed in his nearby cot.
All with both of their clothes on. He hadn't even attempted to feel her up or make her go down on him. This was something different, but what, exactly, she couldn't say.
[~~~]
Western:
She was, quite frankly, dying.
Staked out in the desert, naked, her life ruined and burned beside her. Whoever told them to let these marauding white people into their lands deserved to be here.
Not her.
The Mermaid camp was nothing more than ash on the ground - gutted by hires of the railroad company. The nearby river - the only source of water for miles in any direction - was thoroughly polluted by the bodies of the fishmen that had died trying to protect their home.
She wished her betrothed had been able to slit her throat completely before she was effectively crucified as a warning to other Mermaids. Of course, he'd been dying, wilting on her bosom as his blood pooled onto her.
The others had taken the hint, skirting the area as her lips and scale tattoos cracked and bled under the heat.
[~]
Three days later, she was alive enough to see the speck on the horizon grow 2, then 4, then 6 legs. She passed out the next day.
[~]
Crocodile chewed his cigar thoughtfully. His horse stomped at a lizard, but was otherwise still.
The tattered, inked Redskin woman groaned. The horse whinnied nervously.
"I'm a damn fool for even tryin' this," Crocodile concluded as he wearily slid off of the horse, his knife already out of his scabbard, his hook tidying away the reins.
But he sure as hell hated his own cooking.
[~]
She had changed in his company. Despite any heat in the desert, they were both cold and scaly, like lizards.
Mermaids that knew her from before cursed her name, calling her a ghoul that survived when she should not have. White people cursed her name as a black-hearted, traitorous Injun scout, too good at what she did to be killed, but quick to abandon her clients if they didn't listen to her - usually to their detriment (and death).
Both spoke of her uncanny ability to talk to animals - birds, fish, snakes, even locust;her strange way of knowing north without the compass. Her ability to find water anywhere.
They mainly complained about her ability to rule over the orneriest outlaw on the Frontier.
They still talk in hushed tones about the Railroad Company Massacre and the hook marks left in the president.
[~~~]
Musical Comedy
"No, sir, I do not dance."
Kumadori blinked in amazement at the prim, proper governess Kalifa. Her half-glasses and hat were positioned perfectly on her head, down to the last degree. Her whalebone corset was a tad too tight for his liking, but her bustle was quite shapely indeed...
The chimney sweep brought his ash-covered face closer to inspect her. He seemed to be oblivious to her scowl.
"Yoyoi? Why not?" he inquired, cocking his head to one side.
Kalifa pointedly scowled again and stepped back, thinking of God and her Queen, Victoria, instead of the shape of his jawline. The church had instructed her quite well on her duties as a good, upper middle-class lady.
"Dancing is licentious when done impulsively, and only leads to trouble for young women."
Kumadori gasped in horror, twirling away with a flourish before laying his spiky furnace brush across his shoulders.
"Trouble? Trouble? Like seas in autumn; stormy, dreary; the whales sing! Yoyoi! You don't know the half!"
The chimney sweep imperiously took hold of her soft, lilac-scented hand (Ah, how often she must bathe!) and tugged lightly. Kalifa gasped as she stumbled into his broad chest (Thank goodness he changed clothes!) and raised her head to glower up at him as he began to sway, forcing her body to move against - no, with - his own. With no more than one hand, he twirled them around the dusk-shrouded park, flitting her between light and shadows so quickly that she feared she had fallen into a fairy mound. He sang as they danced, his hair whipping her lightly as it wrapped now around her neck, then her wrist, then her shoulder. Her bellows of anger had become breathless gasps of laughter as he launched her into the air, twirling on tiptoes before catching her safely again.
All with one hand. She wondered what would happen if he danced with her with his arms free.
Kumadori smirked slightly as the blush crawled from under Kalifa's prudent, stiffly starched lace collar, rising like the tide over her cheeks. Dancing was dangerous? Oh, she didn't know the half!
[~~~]
Reality Show:
"Yoyoi! As spring bursts forth; dancing with love; let the laughter flow!"
Loud cheers filled the studio as Kumadori, neatly dressed in a black tuxedo, jogged and cart-wheeled out onto the stage. He bowed low to further applause.
"Yoyoi! Thank you for joining us once again on The Pirate Bachelor: Desert Edition. I am your host, Kuma~dori, and this is my assistant, Keimi!"
Keimi skipped in from the other side of the stage to even louder applause, her short dress miraculously failing to expose more of her long legs - they were hidden under thigh-high boots. Kumadori gave her a warm hug and a kiss before they took their seats - two black barstools in the center of the stage.
"Thanks for coming, Keimi! I'm sure you remember our last meeting with Crocodile."
"Oh indeed! Last week's show was a real heavy-hitter with Kalifa's surprise exit, Kumadori!"
"That's right, Keimi, yoyoi! For those of you at home who may have missed the show last week, let's take a quick look!"
[~]
"Crocodile. I have something to tell you."
Crocodile barely looked up from his newspaper to regard the tall, icy blonde next to him.
"Speak."
She cleared her throat and pulled out a small notepad.
"Crocodile. Over the past few weeks, I have observed that you are distant, paranoid, manipulative, vicious, abusive, mentally unstable, and devious. As perfect as that would normally make you in my eyes, I am forced to confess that I cannot feel more than grudging respect for you."
The blonde replaced the notepad, having accurately guessed that she now held his full attention. It was much like being watched by a ravenous animal in hiding.
She sighed, wondering briefly if she was passing on the right thing. Never mind. Her determination kicked her swiftly in the ass.
"Crocodile, I'm in love with someone else. I wish you greater success with my replacement."
The blonde bent over to place a chaste, barely noticeable kiss on the smooth, dry jawline before walking out of Crocodile's den without looking back.
[~]
"Wow! How moving!" Keimi cried loudly from her perch next to Kumadori.
"Yoyoi, like the rays of summer! Faced with this new development, our producers have been frantically look for a replacement. Luckily, we managed to find the right type of woman before tonight's show."
A drumroll filled the air.
"Oh, who could it be?" Keimi inquired innocently, her eyes wide and luminous.
"Why don't we let Crocodile tell us? Crocodile, come on in!"
Crocodile sauntered through the audience entrance and the crowd went wild. Women trampled each other to touch him and beg him to take them on the show. The rugged oil pirate ignored their bleating and headed directly to the stage, only stopping long enough to speak with Keimi.
"I want you, Keimi."
The co-host gaped like a small fish under his gaze, then stammered something that vaguely resembled the phrase, "pardon please?" Crocodile pulled the woman to her feet and against his chest.
"I want you, Keimi. Don't make me repeat myself, or I'll make you fish for your own bananadile-skin bags."
The stricken Keimi was swiftly escorted off-stage, where cameras followed the couple as they entered a limousine and returned to the mansion where the show was being shot. Kumadori whistled lowly.
"Ah~! Such forcefulness! Come all, let's wish Keimi the best!"
After a long round of applause and a commercial break, Kumadori was back.
"And now, yoyoi, let's speak with the corporate accountant from San Francisco, California, about her surprise exit last week. Please welcome Kalifa!"
Kalifa strode in purposefully, her black stilettoes clicking sharply on the stage. She nodded at the studio audience once before taking a seat on the barstool that Keimi had vacated.
"Thank you, one and all."
"We're glad to have you back!" Kumadori began with a brilliant smile. "Now tell us, if you don't mind, who is the lucky man that you've fallen for?"
Kalifa eyed Kumadori critically, then shrugged and gave a soft smile, as if she were privy to a great secret.
"For starters, he has pink hair..."
[~~~]
Author says:
Am I crazy? Yes, I am. XD