#auricdirge

There had been a lingering thought within the man’s head ever since the events of the Fantasia War months ago. A thought as to who exactly the young man sitting in front of him truly was. He supposed that the young man had the same sort of thought as well in regards to him. After all, no one who claims to simply be a businessman, albeit a very tall and muscular one, should exude the same sort of penchant for violence he had displayed when fighting off against his Mist-Reaper.

And don’t even get me started on what he did during that so-called raid.

He knew for a fact there was plenty to hide on his part. After all, he was a notorious crime lord who had been making attempts to hide in plain sight—slowly laying out the groundwork for his second run at trying to rebuild his gang. As for the young man in front of him, well.. he really couldn’t say. But that’s exactly why this little meeting of theirs was even taking place to begin with. A chance to get to know one another on a far more personal basis.

“ Hmm. Guess I should’ve really start off with a reintroduction. ”

“ Evening, Giorno. It’s real nice to meet’cha properly this time. I know I’ve introduced myself as Victor Dumont before, but if ya don’t mind doing so you’re free t’ use my real name. You can just call me The Boss. ”

There’s... Something off about Spirale. For Risotto, it was his own hell having to now dwell about his mistakes the led up to his death, but seeing those who have killed his Team show up here? He had theories. Spirale was it’s own purgatory and those who end up here were just knocking on death’s door. He had no reason for it to be false, but he just got here. Just observing would be enough, but that took it’s own time.

Then there’s the newbie from Bucciarati’s Team. They had never met, but he’d seen him before. Through pictures, updates from the aftermath of La Squadra Esecuzioni. Risotto had a vast memory. It’s why he had been very successful up until...

Abbacchio wanders along Pearl Street in the Golden Ward, casting passing, disinterested glances into the windows of various shops. The meager allowance that came with his arrival in this city wouldn’t stretch far--and he’s here to see the city more than he is to buy. He’s still struggling to wrap his head around this place, and how it is that he appears so alive. Maybe the trick is to stop thinking so hard about it… 

His gaze returns to the path in front of him and-- Oh. No fucking way. Who doth cross his path but a lowly little brat--it’s an automatic, half-hearted thought.

Send “📂“ For A Headcanon!

Jolyne had a horse girl phase when she was about 12, and while it only lasted for about 2 years, it was intense. Horse dolls. Horse posters. Horse books. She begged her mom to take her to go horseback riding and she loved it all the while. She will now vehemently deny to having had any kind of horse girl phase, but really, it’s just dormant… Waiting for the right horse to come along and unleash 12 year old Jolyne once more…

there are kind of two approaches to this: how the flames inform the character, and how the character informs the flames.

i believe that the reason gokudera has access to so many flames is because he has so much unmet potential. he only finds out about his multiple flame types because his future self has already found them-- he had to give them to himself, rather than someone else going “oh hey, you have other flames, that’s wild,” just like every other growth he has had it came from himself only. but that little Gokudera Constant aside,

gokudera! is! well-rounded! his main flame is storm because destruction is at his core, namely self-destruction. he lashes out and when he doesn’t wanna lash out he hurts himself, he hates himself and is all too willing to sacrifice himself and destruction became a core piece of him, leading storm to overpower the other flames. but, maybe because he has only seen neglect and hatred and destruction, because he is such a terribly soft person underneath all that gunpowder, he craves being understood. and with his flames, he can instead reach out and understand.

for his rain, he can clear the accounts and wash away the blood, he doesn’t want the other vongola to face murder if they don’t have to, ideally he’ll take that burden on himself and clean up before anyone can see the mess. and with yamamoto, there was an instant connection of depression and hating themselves and feeling inadequate no matter how hard they worked.

for lightning, he’ll gladly act as the lightning rod for the family; because he’s been through so much more of this, he can take more, the way he sees it. he has withstood literal torture for the vongola and he’d do it again in a heartbeat, would put himself through hell to make sure no one else got hurt. lambo has a neglectful mafia family (bovino, not vongola) that doesn’t seem to care whether he lives or dies, and he’s just a kid forced around violence every day of his life, and gokudera understands that aaaall too well.

i think the sun’s activation comes through most in his role as right hand with the other guardians (and ofc as with others, attacking the enemy with his body, look at him blowing himself up as his main fighting style before getting his arm cannon), tsuna’s harmony is effective on the guardians but gokudera has the potential to really bring them closer together. tyl ryohei taught him some serious shit too and was, appropriately, the catalyst for gokudera’s fighting style becoming the mix of tactical and all out assault that storms are known for.

cloud!!!! gokudera is always fucking isolating himself. it’s hard to see, but in battle gokudera will provide support whenever he can, but when it’s his time to shine... he still has a hard time accepting help in return. and while it’s mostly because he was given shit-ass mentors (shamal and bianchi, the two people who have treated him worst in life?? thanks reborn), he has always isolated himself to improve. he wants to always give and never receive, because ultimately, he is still isolated on some level, and he protects the family from that level. and with hibari, well, he’s working on it. but even if hibari pisses him off, they have from the very beginning had an understanding: ‘i’m only helping you because i owed you. now we’re even.’ in an eternal circle to the point that there’s no way they’re actually keeping track. they wanna help, so they do, and then they brush it off. clouds, amiright?

HAPPY LAMBABY’S LAMBIRTH!!

+“I promised you candy when we first met, I’m sorry it took a while for me to get it to you. Try not to eat it all at once, we don’t want you getting a stomach ache.” That part is zipped back up once Lambo has had an eyeful; then the main compartment is opened revealing other gifts. “I noticed you liked to color, so I got you a few coloring books and a set of crayons. A toy cow is in here as well, I saw him and thought you might enjoy a soft friend. Also, a few new outfits.” Just simple things, a couple of pairs of dungarees hopefully sturdy enough to keep up with how active Lambo tends to be and a few cow patterned t-shirts. “I hope you enjoy the gifts, Lambo. They’re the least that you deserve, but I tried my best to get you things you’d like.”

another year passes. he is outgrowing his onesie, adopting new words, making more memories. candle number eight just happens to be in spiriale, a wide but definitive cage without nana’s cake or kisses. with consideration to his birthdays spent in italy, these conditions are nothing new. lambo will survive.

the problem is that he cannot go back. he has let himself spoil, grow accustomed to love; and though the date celebrates him in theory, it punishes him just as readily, creating a vacuum for eager heartache to rush in. lambo sits on the ground now, legs idly splayed out. he stares at his toes as if counting all ten would somehow break the spell and whisk him home.

tolerance will only get him so far. afterimages of nana plague his headspace again; he wants to see her yet cannot. lambo hugs his scrawny knees to his chest, knowing that even if he closes his eyes and pretends, they will never be able to substitute for a person. loneliness creeps from the shadows, spins him into its web; and right when he is about to succumb, he hears light shuffling beside him.

“giogio!” lambo receives him with gusto, springing off his rear in record time. cow print feet waddle closer, tiny fingers latching onto a random pinch of giorno’s clothing. the tame habit is one of many accumulated in their time together―for there is warmth in the way giorno allows him his idle touches; whether lambo is crawling onto his lap, nudging beneath an arm, or even stashing jelly bean offerings in his hair donut holes quizzically holding giorno’s ear in (chimerical) quiescence. already he is flashing a dimpled grin. “fratellone is real smart, yeah! it’s lambo-san’s birthday! it’s big, big news!” he collects all of himself, then, to reignite that utterly lambo spirit. it is a tall order, but he is invincible after all. on top of that, giorno’s company always makes the rebound easier.

which only doubles when giorno reveals a birthday gift—gifts. his generosity did not stop at the backpack. from the treats to the clothes and everything in between, every detail perfectly tailors lambo’s niche. the multifaceted surprise has been built on keen observation; kind, deliberate observation he is so rarely subject to. its sentiment shoots above and beyond in a way that cannot be lost, not even on lambo. giorno fires his elaborations one by one, and the stars spin lambo into a near tizzy. stark disbelief contorts his face then, hedged by a cage match between hesitation and hope. for once lambo has no heart to help himself, nor snatch his things with greedy paws. he shrinks on the spot. “all of it’s for lambo?” because, he reasons, it is too good to be true. because, he reasons, he deserves far less. the quiver of his lower lip is nothing if not mousy. it accompanies his breathy peep: “it’s really okay?”

and the breaks of time crank back. he is nestled in nana’s arms, gawking at his first birthday cake, holding his first teddy bear as he hears his first birthday song―warmth swathes him in its cloud, nearly carrying him away into a life beyond the mafia. then he blinks his eyes again to dearest giorno, patient giorno, whose radiant image begins to blur before him.

it’s time, he realizes, to stop calling spiriale a dream. because what lambo has found here is far more than that. a tremor wobbles his knees, sudden awareness suspending him in silence. but this calm only forebodes something greater, and lambo feels it in his bones. his legendary ego crumbles, melts, threatens to spill over before he can tell himself to tolerate. this time he can’t.

“waaah, giogioooo!!” so he leaps. lambo leaps into him, giorno’s chest, body weight trivial but flung with abandon. the dam bursts―it never had hope to begin with―and he cries, and cries, and cries. lambo’s sobs are off-kilter, heavy into giorno’s shirt as he hugs tight, doting, and above all grateful. that day he discovers the disparity (a bizarre one, he feels) between tears of anguish and tears of joy. island aside, home aside, it seems that he still has many more firsts to reap in life. giorno is wrong―this is more than enough. giorno himself is more than enough.

mafia buddyyyy!! gokudera respects giorno a lot as a fellow mafioso who has some decency but also like, gets it. honestly gets it in a way that even most of gokudera’s own family doesn’t! it’s refreshing and familiar-unfamiliar, like the kind of mutual understanding gokudera craves: the mafia can be good, and it can be ugly, and those two can go hand in hand.

when gokudera eventually learns that giorno is a boss, his instincts will say “treat him as a superior” etc., but in the end giorno will probably end up occupying the same space in gokudera’s respect-o-sphere as dino: he knows giorno is technically ‘above’ him in rank, and can act accordingly, but won’t feel like he can’t speak out of turn etc. like he might feel with his own boss.

will protect in case of an attack without question 10/10 good vibes off this good mafia boy (but doesn’t fret over giorno like he does others he instinctively wants to protect)

The quantity of the gifts he receives isn’t what’s important here. What truly matters the most to the Boss is that sheer fact that Giorno had thought of him. That action alone is what winds up making the man smile. Although the gifts themselves are definitely an added bonus.

Oh he can already see himself using the mug on a constant basis here at the office. The ties were definitely going to be worn at one point or another, and as for the wine, that’ll be shared with his apparent lover. Gift card was a nice touch. Can’t go wrong with one of those.

“ Bah, don’t say that. It’s plenty for me. And I mean come on, Giorno, you were thoughtful about it. That’s like a guarantee to warm this old bastard’s heart, hehehe. ”