Summary: ‘’There is blood on Giotto’s hands; The type you can’t scrub off.
The first had gone down with a thud. The second with a howl. He didn’t keep count after the third. Giotto hates himself; The ease with which he ended lives makes him sick to his stomach.
(He had been in a haze while killing, but he’s certain: He intended to do it)’’
Giotto’s life: A tale of loss, love, religion, betrayal and learning to love yourself.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
FF.net | AO3 | Tumblr: 1, 2, 3, 4
My fic master list here.
‘’The road to Hell is paved with good intentions.’’
- Proverb
Chapter 1: Sunday Child
Giotto is born with a smile on his face, his wails joyous instead of upset. His aunt laughs and claps in her hands. ‘’Maria, hear, hear! He’s not even Christened yet and already singing hallelujah!’’
His mother strokes his nose and sighs happily. ‘’A blessed Sunday child, don’t you think?’’
They walk to the church singing, the baby nestled in the crook of Maria’s arms.
‘’Monday's child is fair of face,
Tuesday's child is full of grace,
Wednesday's child is full of woe,
Thursday's child has far to go,
Friday's child is loving and giving,
Saturday's child works hard for a living,
And the child born on the Sabbath day
Is bonny and blithe and good and gay.’’¹
Their small, seaside town is not a kind one. They live on crime-riddled streets and poverty is a disease no-one can cure. Maria manages to feed her son, and while not necessarily becoming a beacon of strength, the boy grows willowy and hardy.
They need the money, so Giotto begins to work the minute he can, just like the other children his age. His hands become rough and his skin darkens in the sun, but his wild hair doesn’t lose its shine. Nor do his eyes, and his mouth always has a smile left to give. He’s a pretty boy, a dangerous thing to be in the darkest corners of the streets. But sunlight is free and even the sea becomes a black hole at night, only to sparkle when dawn breaks once again. Giotto doesn’t mind. Pretty boys learn to punch twice as hard, as far as he is concerned, so it evens out.
Maria watches with uneasy eyes, but he knows what he’s doing. ‘’Don’t worry, mama! I only fight in defence! I won’t shame the Lord’s teachings of love!’’
His eyes sing hallelujah.
Maria lets him go with a heavy heart, watching her son run off again. He uses violence as a means, but only when there is no other way. He is kind, generous, not afraid to defend others as readily as he defends himself.
He is good, there is no question about it, but Maria remembers being good doesn’t come without a price. She’s afraid of the day it will cost his smile.
It arrives when he fifteen.
He’s out with that gang of his, a red-head on either side and their comrades in arms behind them. He comes home with blood on his hands and hollow eyes. But still, hoarsely it falls from his lips: ‘’Hallelujah, mama. Hallelujah.’’
It scares her witless and she stares at the scratched kitchen table for a long, long time. The clock ticks on the wall, as a shadow falls upon her heart.
Where has her Sunday child gone?
Giotto is thirteen when he meets Cozart. He likes him. He’s steadfast, calm and confident, a mischievous smile in the shadow of his black cap. His hair is fiery red and his passion is just as great.
They team up, together with Giotto’s best friend G, to help out the people in their neighbourhood.
They’re fourteen when it isn’t enough anymore. The crime is not just stolen goods now. The outlaws are hurting people and the police are no help at all. Giotto is afraid that if they don’t do something, there will be no one left to save.
Then Franco is beaten up in front of their eyes and Giotto can’t take it anymore. ‘’I refuse to sit around quietly, watching as they take our town!’’
It happens in the middle of a bustling street.
Cozart is the one who voices their thoughts. ‘’We could be vigilantes.’’
Giotto clenches his fists and nods. ‘’If no one else will help us, then we’ve got to defend the town ourselves. However, governing that kind of group will require great leadership. And rain, nor storm, nor sun will be able to keep us away, once we have that. Just like the sky.’’
The group shuffles around, silent, shooting each other unsure looks until Cozart speaks up again. ‘’Giotto, there’s no one but you.’’
Giotto swallows. He doesn’t condone violence, but there’s a fire burning in him, so he straightens his shoulder and meets Cozart’s gaze. ‘’All right,’’ he says, ‘’All right.’’
With those words, he creates the Vongola, Cozart the first to trust Giotto with his life. Responsibility has never felt heavier.
They fight the monsters on the streets, darkness cloaking their youthful features. They’re only fifteen, but rule a reign of terror. They steal their enemies’ supplies, knocking them out before they know what’s happening. Their invisibility creates a bloodcurdling reputation.
After their latest raid, they sleep in a warehouse. Giotto wakes up with the smell of smoke invading his nose, Cozart, warm beside him, still asleep. Flames lick at the door opening, the heat unbearable. The air is thin and the world is spinning.
He shakes Cozart and G. ‘’Wake up!’’
‘’Wazzit- Fire?!’’
Giotto’s eyes dart around. Where is the exit? No, they’ll have to take the window.
The three boys have to crawl, but they get there. Giotto swings his legs over the ledge. The ground is awfully far away. He swallows, eyes darting from the splintered frame beneath his hands to the street stones far below. But G and Cozart already jumped and a broken leg is nothing next to dying. He takes the leap.
They watch the house go up in flames, G holding Giotto up. His ankle is swollen. The bad landing got him good. It hurts, but it’s nothing he hasn’t dealt with before.
The roof collapses and G shakes his head. ‘’It wasn’t an accident,’’
Cozart swears.
Giotto clenches his fists. The fire had spread too fast for a building made of stone. They should’ve known.
The worst thing is that Giovanni can’t miss this warehouse. He tries to support the Vongola however he can, but letting them sleep there was risky already. Now all his wares have gone up in flames. It’s cruel, but then again, that’s the reason the Vongola exists in the first place.
Protecting the town from the outlaws is a- Giotto’s eyes widen.
‘’Giovanni is in danger!’’ He wasn’t sure if the enemy was aware of their identities. But they knew Giovanni was their supporter if the fire was any indication.
Giotto’s gut burns as they run towards Giovanni’s house, his ankle throbbing. The shouts are already audible.
There is a body on the pavement. Its stomach is torn open, still bleeding, the face turned away. It’s Giovanni. Could he still- the glassy eyes take all hope away. It’s a corpse.
G bows over it. ‘’Looks like it was his liver.’’
Giotto closes his eyes. A painful death. Giovanni must have lain there for at least twenty minutes before he succumbed. Stomach wounds are always nasty. The deeper cuts leave the victim unable to walk; The few minutes they have left are spent under their attacker’s mercy².
‘’Any other obvious wounds?’’
‘’Broken fingers. Looks like they kicked him while he was down.’’
Giotto wants to scream, the smell of gunpowder in the air. He is furious, has never felt so much resolve to stop this madness before. It burns his veins, travelling towards his hands and head, where it makes its presence known.
Giovanni’s wife and daughter are nowhere to be seen, but little Rosina’s doll is still lying next to her father. They were taken.
His dying will bursts free.
He bursts through the door, fire blazing. His nerves are tingling, but his ankle doesn’t feature. It isn’t numb; He just doesn’t feel it.
He’s completely zoomed in on his goal, hyper-aware.
The air smells like dirt and he is only keeping the cold at bay with the flames burning on his hands and forehead. A little girl is screaming.
He sees Lucia first. She’s covering her daughter with her body, snapping at the cutthroats cornering them. Her upper lip lifts into an animalistic snarl, but her limbs are shaking.
Of the two parties, only one has a knife. It’s not Lucia.
Giotto moves.
It’s impossible to keep his identity secret after rescuing Rosina and Lucia. Lucia doesn’t talk, silent as the grave, but Rosina is too small to understand and before the morning sun rises, everyone knows.
He walks the street and they sing Hallelujah. His name is on the lips of everyone in town.
Their eyes follow him. ‘’Vongola’s leader.’’
He passes the bakery, but all he can smell is the dock’s rotting fish.
There is blood on his hands, the type you can’t scrub off.
The first had gone down with a thud. The second with a howl. He didn’t keep count after the third. Giotto hates himself; The ease with which he ended lives makes him sick to his stomach. His footsteps echo.
(He had been in a haze while killing, but he’s certain: He intended to do it)
They put a mantle on his shoulders, crowning him like a King, just as Cozart did when he laid down his life in Giotto’s hands.
He manages to make it home before puking on the dirt floor, orange meeting brown. It’s disgusting and the world spins. The flames were orange too.
He grabs his hair and pulls, but the sour taste doesn’t go away, and neither does the memory of Lucia’s shrill voice after he slit her attackers’ throats.
There was fear in her eyes.
Is this what he’s become?
G sighs when he discovers Giotto on the floor.
‘’C’mon,’’ He hauls his friend up and drags him to bed.
Giotto nuzzles the pillow. G pulls up the sheets and tucks him in. It’s all no-nonsense, routine, but the hand on the brunet’s forehead isn’t.
“A fever. Figures.”
Giotto peers at him from underneath the blanket.
‘’I wouldn’t know what to do without you.’’
‘’Yeah, you would be pretty lost.’’
This is who they are, friends looking out for each other.
‘’We have to talk about the flames.’’ It’s been four days, and G is done avoiding the subject.
Giotto’s mouth is dry. Cozart is silent beside him, melting into the shadows of the rocks along the coast. There’s sand in his hair and Giotto’s hands twitch. He wants for nothing more than to reach out and brush through Cozart’s red strands. The butterflies in his stomach would distract him from the conversation.
He bites his lip; It tastes like salt. He doesn’t want to talk about this. Doesn’t want to face his screaming nightmares of fearful eyes and flames. Flames everywhere. He snorts. His feelings for Cozart are the least of his problems now.
A seagull cries in the distance.
G clicks his tongue. ‘’Do you think you could use them again?’’
Giotto stiffens. ‘’You don’t mean that.’’
‘’We need that power, Giotto. This is a war we can’t win. We’re three boys with what? Ten other men backing us? We should be thanking our goddamn lucky stars that Giovanni’s the only corpse among us yet!’’
Giotto turns to the other redhead. ‘’Cozart?’’
‘’We’re out in the open now, Gio. My aunt’s been getting threats and I bet your family received a fair share of their own.’’
He closes his eyes. This can’t be what the Lord meant the world to be when He created it. The Lord has plans divine; Giotto doesn’t know if he’s included in them, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do something about it. He has killed, he doesn’t have the privileges of the innocent anymore.
‘’Giotto, there’s no one but you.’’
He clenches his fists and squares his shoulders. ‘’If I try hard enough, I may be able to produce more.’’
They call them Sky flames, and rain, nor storm, nor the sun can keep the Vongola away.
Their enemies call them the demons and cross themselves to ban out evil. But the Vongola do not dissolve for they are no devils.
Angels, the people call them, Guardian Angels. Heavenly fire blesses them, flame burning on the forehead and on the hands, occasionally even on the feet. A cross.
‘’In the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit.’’
It feels wrong when people say so. Giotto knows he is doing the right thing by protecting them, but he is a murderer. He has killed and for all the forgiveness the Lord may be willing to grant, he cannot forgive himself.
Cozart has to go back to his parents every spring but often returns to them in winter³. Years glide by and the Vongola grows. Knuckle, a learned man who was once a priest and Asari, a foreign nobleman looking to acquire a trading route, join the upper ranks. They are even assisted by another group once in a while, led by a tall, blond Frenchman.
They discover there is more than one flame. A range of colours emerge, but Giotto is the only one who bears the Sky flame. They call them after weather phenomena, whatever suits the flame the best. G has a red variant, which disintegrates everything it touches.
‘’You don’t need a flame for that,’’ Giotto grins one evening in front of the fireplace. ‘’Your raised eyebrow alone makes your subordinates wither.’’
G snorts and pulls his beer closer, tapping the moisture-mark covered table. ‘’If only it would pulverize that ego of yours.’’
Cozart bites his lip and turns away, but his shoulders are shaking with laughter. His cheeks apple and Giotto is drunk on his wine eyes.
Warmth spreads from his gut and Giotto’s face burns, tingly all over. But in the corner of his eye, he sees a mess of dark hair and flinches.
(He remembers them being dragged away; men kissing men⁴. To jail, some said. To be butchered, others whispered. Disgusting, some screamed.
The pavement colouring red.
He’d been small, then, but the half-moon scars of nails digging into his palms remain an everlasting reminder)
Hiding it from Knuckle was no use. Knuckle is a holy man, one who serves God. And Giotto… Giotto loves Cozart, with his wide jaw, red hair, narrow hips and chapped lips. A man. Sometimes he thinks Cozart might love him too, but that can’t be.
Especially not when Knuckle meets him in the chapel the next day and says: ‘’Man shall not lay with man as he does with woman⁵.’’
Sunlight streams through the stained-glass windows and colour pools through the room.
It strikes Giotto to the heart. His love for Cozart goes against the word of the Lord and Giotto feels so terribly guilty for betraying Him, even if only in thought. But he never apologizes, because it’s love, the most beautiful thing in the world, and he won’t deny it.
He understands why, but some part of him still feels betrayed, abandoned and hurt at the thought of his friend forsaking him for something so natural and good as love.
He opens his mouth, ready to defend himself, fists clenched, but Knuckle holds up a hand. ‘’It means either must be equal. Man cannot be woman, woman cannot be man. Love is what the Lord lives for, his ultimate goal.’’
He rests easier that night.
A young noblewoman comes to him, bringing her lover with her. They don’t fit in and that is why they suit the Vongola. By now Giotto has figured out nobody fits in with the Vongola because they’re too diverse and unique. He likes it that way. Elena and Daemon do too.
Elena is optimistic but sly. Her partner might be a cynic, but he is also cunning and believes in the Vongola with his whole heart, complimenting her as always. Daemon doesn’t look at Elena with moon eyes, but only because it’s obvious to him that she must’ve hung it in the sky.
Giotto can’t help but smile at them.
‘’What are they?’’
The blue haired woman laughed. ‘’A present. Or maybe a curse. It will depend on what you will do with it. I can see the future, but the future depends on choices. I trust you to make the right ones, Vongola!’’
Giotto swallows, looking down at the ring on his hand. No, he wants to say, I can’t carry this, but as always, he hesitates too long. When he lifts his head, she’s gone.
She’s a strange woman, Shaman Sepira.
They’ve been training their men for a long time, each of the inner circle having their own division, though everyone ultimately answers to Giotto. They’re good men, but the Vongola grows and grows and grows until one day, Giotto looks at his division and thinks: I don’t know that face. I don’t know her name.
I don’t know my men.
…
Are they good men, these strangers?
Dear Cozart,
Are you well?
I have
I am
The other day
I’m not.
He tries to reach out, but the words don’t come. A thousand crossed out notes, but all the same heading. And eventually, when the words do flow, he stares at the finished letter.
It contains: I love you, I need you, helpmeIamsoafraid.
He’s never told Cozart his awkward manners melt his insides, that his sleeping face ties his tongue and that the way he puts his thumbs in his pockets makes Giotto ache with desire to kiss his broad lips.
He sits down and rests his forehead on the table, arms next to it, dread heavy in his stomach. God, he is a coward.
He never sends the letter.
Giotto walks in on the incident in the middle of the street in broad daylight. They’re holding a little boy up in the air, laughing, taunting him. ‘’Ready to give us your money, kid? Wouldn’t want anything to happen to your little brother, would you?’’
The older boy, held back by two thugs, struggles, elbowing backwards. He hits the shoulder joint. The captor on the right recoils and the boy jerks arm free, punching the man still holding on to him. The left captor doesn’t let go, but his face contorts in anger. ‘’You’ll regret that, pal.’’
It happens in a flash.
The thug has flames on his hands, dying will flames, but he loses control and the red, red, red Storm flames eat the boy like acid.
Giotto burns, is there before he knows it, and throws the man off the teen. The boy’s face has melted, his arms and ribs eaten away. The smell of burning flesh is spreading, but so are the storm flames and it might be too late for the older brother, but the younger is still alive. Giotto snatches the crying boy up, but the flames are everywhere and he has nowhere to go and- The ring unlocks and Giotto finds the power to stop it all.
Afterwards, when the danger is gone, Giotto stares down at his hands again, bile rising up in his throat.
The rings are weapons.
He doesn’t have time to dwell on it. The boy is still there, his bottom lip trembling and his wide, brown eyes brimming with tears and something Giotto recognizes, but can’t name. He needs comfort. Someone to still his shaking limbs.
‘’The bad men are gone now.’’ Giotto reaches out, but a woman in the crowd snatches the boy away, protectively hiding him behind her.
Her eyes narrow, ‘’No they aren’t. You are still here, Lucifer.’’
The crowd gasps and cross themselves, but no one protests.
Giotto frowns, eyes darting around. What- oh. The dying will flames. The knowledge had leaked to some criminal families and Giotto had assumed… But no.
The men he’d just defeated? Those were from his own godforsaken division and he hadn’t even noticed until she spat it in his face.
In a daze, Giotto turns around and walks home, hand touching his throat, eyes unseeing. His bedroom door falls closed with a thud. His hand slides down to his chest, and his fingers splay over his breastbone.
Lucifer was an angel before he fell, but he became the devil nonetheless.
His nails dig into his skin.
He remembers now. The boy’s eyes reflected Lucia’s, as they were all those years ago. Fear. He had become someone to be feared.
Giotto’s mind and heart tear.
(Nobody hears his screams that night because Giotto has lost the ability to release those long ago. He is utterly silent as he falls apart. It’s terrifying, in the way of a soundless newborn. And isn’t it? The Vongola ended an innocent life. How can he live with himself?
He cries himself to sleep)
‘’The future depends on choices. I trust you to make the right ones, Vongola!’’
When he wakes, he knows.
‘’I’m disbanding our military forces.’’
He seals the rings.
Footnotes
1. Monday’s Child is a popular nursery rhyme, I did not write it myself. You can find more information on it here.
2. On the liver: this is factually correct, as far as I could find.
3. ‘’Cozart has to go back to his parents every spring but often returns to them in winter.’’ In chapter 308 of the manga, we see a flashback in which Giotto and Cozart meet for the first time. Cozart mentions that he is in Giotto’s town because he is visiting his grandfather. I took this to mean that he had family there, which he usually visited for a few months, before going back home to his parents.
4. ‘’He remembers them being dragged away; men kissing men. To jail, some said. To be butchered, others whispered. Disgusting, some screamed.’’
From what I could find, Italy in the 1800’s had a relatively friendly attitude towards homosexuality, but for the sake of the story, and the fact that I wanted Giotto to confront the fact that his society does not accept his sexuality (as many queer people face today), I chose to dismiss this.
5. On the ‘’Man shall not lay with man as he lays with woman’’ conversation between Knuckle and Giotto: this is a sentence in the Bible, which has MUCH discussion about it on its actual meaning and the exact translation. What Knuckle says about it is not entirely correct (or, at least, a really REALLY shortened version of one of the explanations).
You can find some more information on it here: 1, 2.
To see more perspectives, you can simply search for the sentence on google.
Author’s Note
For anyone wondering when this story is set: I put Giotto’s lifetime somewhere around 1800. Most of my research for this fic was specifically set to this era. It is, however, hard to find information sometimes, never mind double checking them, so please keep in mind that not everything will be factually correct. Most of the biggest artistic licenses I knowingly took I will address in my author’s notes.
I’m planning on weekly updates for this story. There are four chapters in total!
I want to thank @i-w-p-chan for being here with me from the beginning, @operaeagleicelynlacelett for reading and commenting on my work, as well @ladyhallen , for reading and commenting, as well helping me with the quotes for each chapter! Next to that, I want to thank the Meet Me in the Pit Crew as a whole for their endless support and love!
Also, @operaeagleicelynlacelett wrote a poem based on this story (but with a different ending) and it is INCREDIBLE. Please go read it! You can find it here!
Summary: Trip to Japan! Of course nobody took Giotto’s Bigger-Than-His-Head-AND-Ego crush on Cozart into account… Also known as: How to plan your wedding while still in denial.
Warnings: De Nile is not just a river in Egypt and Giotto’s outrageous crush
Disclaimer: I don’t own Katekyo Hitman Reborn.
Post with links to AO3 & FF.net: here.
Throwing the panels to the side with less care than advised, Giotto flung himself into the main room.
‘’Do not fear, for I am here!’’ Pose one, pose two aaaaaand supermegafoxyawesomehot ending pose!
Dayum! The last pose’s awesomeness materialized out of nowhere like a ninja in the night! Except ninja weren’t supposed to appear, they should be invisible and weren’t even half as fabulous and- Giotto would contemplate this when he wasn’t waiting for the applause. His arm was starting to burn.
No standing ovation yet. Didn’t they know it was okay to clap? Waving to prompt them, he opened his eyes.
G sighed, Asari blinked, Alaude took a sip of his tea, Knuckle frowned, Lampo didn’t lift his head from the floor and Daemon just raised an eyebrow. Elena…
Elena was muffling laughter.
Slumping, Giotto pouted. ‘’When Cozart walks in, everybody shouts ‘Simon-san!’. Why can’t you do that for the resident sugarplum too?’’
Daemon inclined his head, stroking the cat on his lap. ‘’We’re sorry. Try again.’’
His guardians were the best! Beaming, Giotto hurried outside, closed the door, and threw it open again with one grand, sweeping gesture.
‘’Do not fear, for I am here!’’ And… Pose! Wink, wink!
‘’Simon-san!’’
Giotto hid his cheeks in his hands- oh god, he felt so loved! Even Alaude and Lampo had sounded enthusiastic, and they even managed to do it in unison! Oh, how great to hear his nam-
Wait a minute.
Giotto’s hands fell as he straightened up, jutting out his chest. ‘’I have never been this insulted in my-oh.’’
They had called him Simon-san. As in Cozart Simon. As in Mr. Cozart Simon, happily married on his way to happily ever after with his beloved. As in, the guy Giotto might have a teeny, tiny crush on, which was totally not taking his life over, no matter what G said!
‘’Never mind. I’m perfectly happy being called Simon-san. Joyous, even!’’
Giddily, he floated out of the room. He had a letter to write! All those kisses at the end of his latest heart-covered letter weren’t going to add themselves!
As the door slid shut behind him, Lampo gagged. ‘’Kill me now.’’
‘’Agreed.’’
Aww, they had the talking in unison down! Cozart would not believe how cute his future step-children were!
I had this silly idea for the Vongola’s True History (or Giotto’s Adventures In Failure) series, wrote it down quickly, and went out of the door. I come back, start up my laptop, search the document and find: KHR LOVETRUCK GIOTTO. Best typo ever!
I’ll post it later today!
Edit: It’s posted here on Tumblr!
Also on FF.net and AO3
And the series it belongs to: Vongola’s True History (or Giotto’s Adventures In Failure)
Deny it all the way you species want, but the truth is, the human body has a limit. Cross that limit and you will die.
Literally, bluntly, no ambivalence, no hidden meanings. You will die.
Why do you think Signore Vongola is only allowed to use one stone, even though his flame can, in theory, "harmonize" and activate all the other stones?
The human body has a limit, and when exposed to Trinisette, that limit is immediately exceeded.
For creatures of the Sky Flame spectrum, when exposed to Trinisette's energy source, their energy will immediately receive a huge source of external force, and that external force will quickly fuse with their own energy source. The shortest recorded time to complete the fusion was 5 seconds and 12 ticks.
Imagine you pour a pot of boiling water into a glass of cold water - the cold water will also quickly boil and destroy the glass..."
"Please..."
"I'm listening."
"D... Don't let anyone... see..."
"I have to decline your request. It is Segreti's mission to document. Additionally, you are the first Earth spectrum creature to be affected by Trinisette energy in this way. I don't know how long it will be before another Earth creature, in the parlance of your species, "recklessly" approached Trinisette as directly as you. Thus, I have to record how the energy transformed and destroyed you from the inside."
"..."
"..."
"..."
“However, since you are a very rare subject, according to the rules of human decency, I should express my gratitude.
Records of your death will be kept confidential.
Now think about that statement when I say it out loud, you'll think I'm doing this to protect Trinisette. Since I belong to the same species as Kawahira and Sepira di Giglo Nero, you would think it was natural for me to keep the secret of the Trinisette energy hidden.
Your thinking is completely reasonable.
So, to express my gratitude, I will try to clean up your body - it will be a difficult task, but you will look like you are sleeping. No one will know anything.
Of course there will be doubts as to why your body stopped working so abruptly, but please rest assured.
I swear on Segreti's name that no one will know about your last moments, Simon Primo.
Therefore...
Rest in peace, foster father."
***
A conversation between Segreti Secondo Achlys Segreti and Simon Cozart, before Cozart died from direct exposure to Trinisette energy. (Which later in the Future arc is called "Trinisette Radiation", used by Byakuran to kill the Arcobaleno.
Basically, in the sense of "radiation", when exposed, the flame in the body will destabilize and divide continuously, leading to a huge source of flame being generated in the body while the body cannot adapt in time with this change, resulting in the body being destroyed by the flame from the inside)
What are your thoughts on Giotto and his guardians? Do you have any headcanons for them? (Also this is completely unrelated to khr but do you like boku no hero academia/my hero academia?)
and from a separate anon
i rly love all ur khr stuff like i can’t scream enough about them (so good and perfect and give me life), i was wondering what are ur thoughts concerning the simon or daemon?
i didn’t want to answer the daemon one in two separate asks 8′)
simon: precious and should be protected at all costs. stop julie’s everything, keep daemon out. simon family protection squad 2k16.
giotto
not a dictator
not militaristic
calmly assertive, takes initiative in very deliberate ways
does not like when his plans go awry
tries to fix his mistakes, but is not enough of a perfectionist that he’d keep beating a dead horse, so to speak.
does things in moderation and knows when to Stop.
loyal to his friends
responsible, but a dork
probably changed his name to giotto to herald the coming of his own legacy
giotto means ‘peaceful ruler’
which is funny because being a vigilante leader is not at all ‘ruling’, but he may have ended up in that position after enlisting / having so many people join vongola
really thought his angry cousin/whatever was going to be a good fit for vongola, lots of passion, much energy. giotto’s getting on in years (for the time they’re in). needs someone young and virile at the helm.
too bad ricardo was probably just too angry and too passionate and did nothing with moderation
G
putting the ‘.’ after the letter feels really pretentious
like, did he think of that or is it a fandom thing?
did the rest of the guardians go ‘well, it can’t be JUST a letter, he has to be an initial, so let’s add the dot
g: no stop
them: well is your name ‘gee’ or ‘gi’ or ‘gie’??? no?? then no.
giotto: it’s gregorio
g: NO IT”S NOT
giotto: it’s not gregorio
giotto: it’s gregorovich
g: you just changed my entire ethnicity
giotto: call him greg
why does he have pink hair
bad dye / bleach job
if he’s SUPPOSED to be somehow linked/related to gokudera then he might also possible have multiple flames
headcanon that the flame tattoos are actually scars / done to cover up the scars from having conflicting flames….
deserves a medal for putting up with giotto tbh
knuckle
excuse me, do you have a moment to hear the word of vongola, your lord and savior?
what kind of name is knuckle and what is an english-like name doing in italy that far back in the past
i mean not saying it couldn’t HAPPEN, but
was probably involved in underground boxing gambling rigs
meaning, outlawed and a Crime
no boxing gloves. hands are probably all messed up.
full of achey parts due to boxing stint
celibate
prays for the guardians daily and hopes they don’t manage to kill each other today
would like to marry one of the guardians to their spouse at SOME point, come ON daemon hurry the FUCK UP we can all see you smooching elena get on with it, vongola’s church has been ready for AGES
probably did not get to baptize giotto’s kids in japan, but he got to hold them and he is So Proud. he didn’t even really do anything to help he’s just so proud to see them
if he’d kept up his boxing thing he’d probably have killed more people or died and then he’d never see these precious vigilante beebins
tiny bit hesitant to hold them because he killed a man with his bare hands
giotto just stares. look. we’ve killed a lot of people. you are going to hold the tiny. you will hold him and you will feel good and wholesome.
never thought he was gonna be the next Godfather
alaude
comes and goes all the damn time
more of a cat than hibari ever was, by virtue of actually HAVING a proper secret intelligence occupation.
stronk, will kick your ass
thinks his hairstyle is cool and mysterious
it kinda is, but that isn’t the point
his name is pronounced ‘araudi’ in japanese but it’s really ‘alod / alood’, esp if it’s actually french, which the japanese version SHOULD be ‘aroudo’ and it distresses me that araudi is used instead
that’s not really headcanon i just wanted to say it distresses me
probably picks up a lot of stray kids while on the road and drops them off at vongola hq whenever he comes by.
a stork, basically
his secret intelligence agency is constantly pissed that he keeps coming and going whenever he wants. look. this is SECRET INTELLIGENCE!!
he’s too good at what he does. also he is the boss.
you’d think the corporation / government he works for would be bothered by this though
all the kids’ favorite uncle
ugetsu
knows approximately what he’s doing
very nice, very kind, likes music you can’t hate someone who likes music
constantly dragged away from busking on the streets of italy he is not POOR anymore, stop that
says he’ll give the money back to the community somehow. giotto just says stop taking the money to begin with
they literally throw money onto his lap even if he’s got a sign up, what’s he supposed to do about it
crafty
could commit murder with a flute, but that would make it messy, so he won’t
learned how to juggle his shortswords
ancestors, rolling in their cremation pots
EVENTUALLY was convinced to wear Modern Clothes, but everyone said he just looked really weird and out of place so he changed back
also could no longer hide kittens in his massively roomy clothing, so that was another reason
headcanon that he is actually already yakuza and always has been yakuza, just kind of Rejected The Lifestyle while busking in japan
tattooed as fuq
looks kinda badass when all those tattoos are peeking out whenever he wears a normal dress shirt
kids keep asking about them
tells everyone all the creepy as fuq japanese tales
never ask him for a bedtime story,,
a friend.
probably suffered a lot after returning to japan for being associated with a ‘gaijin / foreigner’, because japan can be so intensely condescending and xenophobic sometimes.
daemon
head of the ‘meant well, fucked everything up’ campaign
not sure if i like the headcanon that he’s ‘damaged’ in fics where he teams up with tsuna
probably based on the fact that he’s lacking a real body, seeing as he lived about 100 years before current timeline
STILL……
i mean, this is prevalent in all of like two fics and one author, and the fics are good, i just don’t really. eeehhhh.
sorta-living proof that you can serve more than one Sky in your lifetime
stop with the ‘only one sky always forever’ nonsense i don’t care if ~harmonization~ is involved, esp if you write canon fic… it’s canon that you can serve two….
‘but serving and harmonizing are two different things!!’
harmonization isn’t even canon, stop it
is so in love, so caring, so respectful of elena and her opinions okay he listened to her
proof that love makes you do crazy things
like turn your girlfriend’s favorite vigilante organization into a criminal powerhouse in the process of just trying to help it be Powerful in general
wonderful motive, still diabolically life-ruining.
aristocrat. used to aristocrat things.
disappointed by lack of party tricks. did them himself with illusions.
occasionally gets vindictive whenever someone Wrongs elena in some way
she doesn’t even try to stop him
they are wonderful and lovely and also probably just as awful as the other.
bonnie and clyde, but less robbing and murder. well, maybe not less murder. also richer.
likely disowned by family for taking a lot of money out to help fund vongola. vigilantes aren’t always seen positively and also daemon spade is not an italian name, his country would like him to stop using money in foreign places
would be worse if he actually had kids
no one’s really sure why they kept putting off marriage, but no one’s questioning it either?
except knuckle. his job involves marrying people. LET HIM MARRY YOU TWO.
lampo
cow brat ver. 1.2
okay but honestly. everyone talks about how giotto ‘made’ him fight, but does anyone recall that you can’t really.. force.. someone.. to become a guardian..??
like, lampo had to have agreed to it. he joined this. you can’t just drag someone into a vigilante organization, that’s Effort and a waste of it if they don’t wanna do anything
LAMPO JOINED, AND NOW HE’S BEIN LAZY
literally the opposite of lambo who is spoiled by also wants to prove himself and do everything, and who is also 5
lampo is not 5, he should not act 5, he needs to grow up
why is his shield a wok?? or wok-like?! amano please
I’m not sure if this is an AU but I’ll submit it anyway. So. The 10th Gen are the reincarnation of 1st Gen. Well Chrome might have been Elena in her past life or not. Idk. They all have their memories from that time. Everyone except Tsuna. So just imagine poor Tsuna trying to find out why he’s being called Giotto.
“Heeeiiiii! Hibari-san! Why are you calling me that?!?!”
“Stupid Giotto. Have you forgotten your name?”
“Maa maa, I think we can help him. Maybe some of my music will help?”
“Yamamoto! Not you too?!?!”
“Primo! As your right hand man, I have failed you!”
