Concrete jungle, glad I got my mates with me - 1.7 k words
During yet another extremely painful vist to the Capo Passione gave control of their area, tensions rise amoung the grunts and as Tesoro tries to protect Muro, he observes & reflects on how despite being willing to use people like Muro as pawns, they exclude them from the supposed "family" while opening their arms to people like Tesoro to take advantage of racim to pit people like them against each other for the people in powers own benifit.
Once they escape and are driving back home, Muro slowly relaxes and admits that his and Tesoros alliance for safety has turned into genuine friendship and the two share some sweet moments as Tesoro plants the seed that maybe they could try and rise in the ranks to avoid futher humiliation for Muro and others.
This is part of my attempt to figure out how organised crime in Naples transitioned from ethnically Italian organised crime groups in the form of the various Camorra clans to Passione in 2001 where they seemingly don't care
I've tried my best with reaserch and have drawn heavily from my own experiences seeing people use racist & xenophobic divisions to sow dissent including in communities like Muro & Tesoros but if you have any critiques of how I handle it please feel free to let me know
one day i will create a character that has a moral alignment of good that doesn't have a massive exception for shitty rich people but i was raised on folk ballads about hanging the rich fucks and songs where grief went hand and hand with anger and righteous violence and i can get in the head of a character that is evil and manipulative but i cant get in the head of one that isn't down to do some noble murder. hes a country boy with a heart of gold but he knew why his people were starving and he knows why the money is tight and there's being Good and there's being good and bless their greedy hearts to the damn grave, but they have the money to keep from the grave, money taken form people who they push closer every day.
Hehe ffxiv worship trap card activated!!! Tysm, this is for this wip name ask game
Lucia is a reoccurring minor character in ffxiv who I love dearly, she's the second in command to one of your main allys in hevansward and takes over his job of effectively leading the military when he's put in charge of the country. I won't spoil her arc but she stands out visually if your aware of what the human equivalents models hight ranges are and comes up again to lead a mission in endwalker, where something happens during the into the cold questline that makes my player charecter/WoL Arakow feel extremely vunerable.
Arakow stumbles into the building Lucias set up in and literally collapses onto Lucia and so the fic focuses on Lucia taking of Arakows Dark Knight armour she donned bc she was scared while thinking about what having Arakow so vunerable in front of her makes her feel given how closed off Arakow can be & Not thinking about them having sex right before everything when to shit.
Its actually finished just needs many editing drafts and given the wolship nature it's a pretty neish thing but I do love it and should at least tidy it up for when I want to reread it and cry about them.
"Lucia… I'm so fucking tired…" Arakows voice trailed off and she fell to her knees, decades of reflex training enabling Lucia to get her arms under Arakows and bring the other woman into her embrace. The yet biting cold of her armour from outsides chill couldnt be comfortable for how Arakows face was bowed into it, her slicked back hair flopping forwards, making Lucias heart ache as it made her look all the younger, evoking the woman she first met what felt like so long ago now in another land cursed with ice. Still, the warmth of their previous private meeting tugged her mind in directions unfit for what was happening, her mind replaying overheard snippets of "jokes" about how nice it would be to have the warrior of light on her knees for them. She would be lying by saying she didn't like the honour of having Arakow feel able to bend and break in font of her… but it weighed heavy on her, these sides of Arakow that she was learning just how few people saw and how rarely. This was no lovers rendezvous but a solider at the end of her rope desperately searching for someone who can carry even a fraction of the weight on her shoulders… The weight of not just her peers trust, but whole nations, nay a whole star, and if what she had heard was true… things even greater than that.
Post Stormblood, post the vault[iykyk], spoilers for the end of Heavensward [Patch 3.0] no major warnings apply, 2,256 words
FFXIV!Cecio meets my WoL Arakow<3
Cecio was 10 when the cold descended and his hair started turning white, he was 15 when the dragons descended on Ishguard, his home was destroyed and the last of his roots went white. A week later he stood in front of Count Fortemps and claimed him as his father so his mother would have somewhere to live. Now he is a knight who lives in the shadow of his silver haired older half brother, their close appearance haunting him.
One secret trip to Providence Point finds him encountering the Warrior of Light, the woman he had tried so hard to avoid lest his appearance cruelly reopen her wounds. Cecio ponders how he got there, family and the weight of grief as he learns that maybe he should have trusted the Warrior more, and maybe just maybe they can help each other. Even a paladin needs protection, as his brother well knew, and adventuring seems like an interesting way of life.
Opening under the read more<3 Read the whole thing here!
Cecio stiffened as he registered someone right behind him, usually he noticed visitors long before they were in sight but today he must have been more distracted-
The person come into view, and his head keeps moving up til his neck hurt from the cold metal digging into his skin and even only then can he just about see short strands of blue hair and deep gray skin.
The Warrior of Light, Ser Star-sailer. No wonder he didn't notice her approach, though now he can hear the crunch of snow as her Ishgardian black chocobo squats behind them both, evidently no longer caring for stealth.
She lowers herself, shining gold armour folding until she's sat arse down in the snow with her legs also near buried in white powder, her shield on her back and her swords blue glow just faintly visible from where it was now buried.
He looks at her face, now easily within his view, and gets a first look at her many gray hairs. When they liberated Ala Mhigo they weren't there- yet. Likely the roots had turned and it took the aftermath for them to grow out. It made her look distinguished, she had enough lines on her face, both from smiles and frowns, for it to look mature rather than strange.
From the furrow above her eyes as they looked at his own silver locks, from her view likely near blending in with the blinding snow that surrounded them, it was clear she didn't think he pulled it of the same way, on him the full head of gray hairs a sign of going through too much too young.
When he had ventured to his mothers homeland, the last remaining bits of brown hair still lingered even as they strands grew out white, Now? Now there was nothing left but silvery white. Once again, Ishguard took and took from his mother. At least his so called father was yet to gray, so instead it just tied him tighter to his silver haired older brother.
Characters: Tesoro, Elena
Words: 1,432
No warnings apply
Elena gets a call from Tesoro, and while she's expecting a heart to heart over his recent breakup with Conficcare, she's not expecting the thought she coaxes out of her best freind to be "What if I wasn't a man" Still, she will do anything for her oldest freind, including walking them through their thoughts and doubts and counteracting each of them, hoping that Tesoro can finally stop holding their breath, stop hiding themselves, and relax, like the rest of them have been learning to do.
[Edited] Exert:
Tesoro's voice cut through her thoughts, his usually bright greeting heavy with exhaustion and edged in worry.
“Talk to me Tesoro.”
“Don’t worry, ‘Lena I’m– just–” his sigh echoed down the line, his next words muffled, “–it's just– just thoughts, I’m physically safe– as I ever can be,”
It wasn't the fault of the phone lines that his laugh was hollow, hollow in a way that reached out and carved a hole in her own heart.
“Thoughts can be plenty dangerous, we both know that well enough,”
“Yeah, these ones are… Fuck, Elena, I’m too old for this,”
Refusing to engage Tesoros dreams of dying young and escaping self growth- mid thirties was still perfectly young for people who didn't live like him- Elena pressed further.
“Tell me, you can always tell me,”
“What if I wasn't a man,” Tesoro whispered to her, like if he said it out loud something would strike him down.
Hopefully ill have the spoons to edit this soon but have something from the end of my Lucia/Arakow post into the cold oneshot<3 a little sweetness then the reveal of just how Arakows echo works...
Finally, she could gently guide Arakow to lie down on the bed, pulling her up towards the headboard.
Looking at her lying there finally stripped of her armour made Lucias breath hitch in her throat, unusually exposed even as she was covered from neck to toe.
How like Arakow, to be showing such rare vulnerability while still so covered up.
Today wasnt the time to go unwrapping the layers of Arakow even futher, so instead she diligently layered together the many blankets, avoiding Arakows gaze that seemed to want to expose the blush on her cheeks.
Finally she lays the the pile on Arakow, but her hand is caught before she can remove it.
"Stay. Come in."
And who is she to deny Arakow?
Turning to remove her own armour she catches Arakows smile, and once again has to hide her face.
[...]
Arakow… Adventurers and especially The Warrior Of Light were sent to deaths door often, but as many a healer would loudly point out, that wasnt death, just close, and there was no ally to "resurrect" Arakow during her desperate rush back towards camp-
"Ever wonder how I always win?"
Arakows voice was the coldest thing Lucia had ever experienced, deep blueblack eyes growing closer as her stare drilled into Lucias soul, chilling her to the core-
"I dont. I die. Over and over and over and fucking over and each time I snap back to whenever the stupid fucking echo decides is "safe" and use what I learned from experiencing all that agony to make it that much futher the next go."
Fuck.
"I thought the Echo wouldnt transfer with me, the strength certainly didnt, but of course that damn part did…"
Arakows voice trailed off into uncertainty, and the rigidity she held herself with collapsed.
"I'm so fucking tired, lets just sleep."
Despite everything she had revealed, exaustion took Arakow not long after.
Lucia on the other hand intimatly learned every mark on the ceiling.
5, How did you choose their name and why? Was it simply based on vibes or is there any specific meaning behind the name? Are the reasons behind their name different in- and out of universe?
Muro is Italian for wall. In universe it starts as a nickname, a shortening of Elenas repeated statement about how Muro stubbornly runs headfirst into brick walls. Muro picks it as its something he wants to project, being a wall who can protect people and stop attacks. Its also picked up by people around him who nickname him Muro Tombale [Wall[ed] tomb] because of how his mothers [perceived] death affected him as well as the deaths of those around him. Later it gained the more widely known meaning of a walled tomb being what any room him and his enemies are in becomes for the latter, referencing when in a meeting with his at the time Capo he was attacked causing Human Algebra to protect him- and everyone else getting hit with the deflected bullets. Out of universe i wanted to get meaningful with it, and was unintentionally referencing the concept of the coffin in revolutionary girl utena which the persona of Muro was initially much more of a difference and act from who he had been before.
His name after arriving in Italy, Celia, is from a name rooted in Latin beloved to mean heaven- an out of universe nod to his decent from Dio. Paula picked it [along with Paula for her] as a name that would fit in better in Italy to try and avoid discrimination. D'Oro meaning of gold was another of Paulas picks for the same reason.
His birth name is still undecided- I still need to do more research into Nubian names, but he does eventually pick out a new name with his aunt- his father's sister- but it is rarely used as its too meaningful to him to let slip.
10, What is their main character arc in the story? Where do they start and how do they develop? Do they get a happy ending or is their story a tragic one?
Muros mains charecter arc is learning to balance his desire for justice and a better world and the safety of his loved ones against each other, mainly prioritizing protecting those he loves but still trying his best to help others even in the face of an enemy he can't defeat. He doesn't start as naive, he was never given that luxury, but when he's young he believes fighting for what's right is always worth it, where as the story develops he realizes thats the fastest way to end up dead and has to be very careful in how he tries to help people. Despite that, he holds onto that desire to help people and its what keeps drawing people to him and inspire such strong loyalty, and its so so important that he bends but doesn't break and even when everything is against him he still wants to and tries to be kind.
His ending is... bittersweet. Him and the people he cares about most are alive which is more than many can say, but after everything he only played a tiny part in overthrowing the Boss and now faces the people who replaced him and their lack of understanding of why he did what he did. Still, he eventually largely retires, and New Passione may disagree with him but they arent trying to control him the same extend as the boss.
17, Are there any motifs or symbols associated with the character? How are they represented, in their design, personality or in some other way?
Gold and arrows are the most common, many of Muros outfits incorporating them, from his belt to the golden arrows on his trousers to them being all over his stand Human Algebra. Arrows are interesting because Muros biggest issues is he is threatened into non action, but even then he wants to move, to apply force and affect the world, ideally for the better. He picked arrows as a kid to decorate his clothing because of that ideal, and its interesting to me how it unintentionally ties in with the idea of Gravity in jojos as well as the Connections between stand users that draw them together. Gold is both malleable and durable, something he aspires to be- strong yet flexible in his ideals- as well as is associated with wealth, something he aspires to, and in a way hes reclaiming it much like his suits.
20, Bonus question: share any additional thoughts, art, favourite scenes, anything you've been waiting for a chance to ramble about
Muros Rudeboy phase<3 Two Tone the music genre has been such a key inspiration for gold & silver and holds both in and out of universe relevance. Muros stand is named after the album and song Human Algebra, and many others stands are named after songs from the genre. The Selecter especially inspired so much, most of the names as well as the stories and Muros biracial Black [and Arab] identity, and Paulas Italian name to name a few. The politics of the genre, especially the focus on multiculturalism, anti-racism and working class pride, are the bedrock of the story as well very important to me in my own life. The running themes of decrying violence, both on the streets and against other countries by armys and the failures of the government as well as my childhood in Hackeny inspired the multicultural community gold & silver is set in, and its mishmash of Naples and Hackney
In universe Muro is a massive rudeboy [an originally Jamaican subculture that got a revival to the uk with the windrush generation and came to mean a fan of two tone and ska, charecterised by wearing suits and other symbols associated with the upper class while being dirt poor] and so is Russo. He stumbled across some two tone records and the rest is history, Muro feeling a strong connection to the Black british experience as well as really enjoying the very political but upbeat and danceable songs. He dresses the part from 16 to around his mid 20s, wearing baggy oversized suits inspired by Zoot Suits [While Russo favors the skinny slacks and blazers- the only thing straight about her is her trousers] Even when he switches to his bright top and trousers he uses his rudeboy look as a semi disguise because of the difference in aesthetics. The politics are very imporant to him as well, even as hes aware hes at many points the person the songs are decrying.
Muros charisma is also heavily based of the performance and mic work of Gaps Hendrickson & Pauline Black, the two frontpeople for the Selecter, though sadly Gaps passed last year. Like them he can hold a room of people in the palm of his hand with a few words and inspire them so strongly as well as making them feel connected to him [Here is The Selecter live at the Roundhouse in 2017 if you want an idea] In at least one world hes fronting a ska cover band and doing a fantastic fucking job
Theres an irony to it all that Muro- and especially the others- are often the people being decried in the very songs that inspired them, just as much as they are also the victims. Human Algebra, a song about knife crime and the grief and tragedy it causes both applies to attacks on Muro and other people as well as his own actions. Songs from other adjacent genres that are integral also are singing against exactly what they are doing. Having those songs be not only inspirations out of universe but known by the characters highlights their hypocrisy. Muro can sing along to celebrate the bullet- an anti violence song- but hes still killing people for his own needs. Dont even mention Cherry vs the song her stand is named after, Bombscare. I do enjoy the hypocrisy though, they know what they are doing is wrong and they either twist themselves up trying to justify it or accept it- or a mix of both.
Hehe that's so perfect for Muro/Elena tyyyy [from this ask game]
11, when one stops the kiss to whisper “I’m sorry, are you sure you-” and they answer by kissing them more
Pretty early after the two have met again, Muro still very uncertain about himself and Elena unable to contain her affection for him. ft proud father uncle caretaker Muro wanting Elena & Rametta to meet
It had been a long afternoon, late lunch at one of Muros favourite cafés, run by an old acquaintance- of both of them in fact- who respected Muros wish for discretion and privacy, turned lengthy discussions of Elenas life, with him occasionally contributing what little of his life remained unrelated to what Elena left to escape.
Rametta and Cecio mainly, his pride in his they grew up, in how they have defied the misguided lessons they were taught.
"I think you two would get on,"
Elena hummed in curiosity, fingers intertwined with his on the table, thumb gently rubbing the back of his own, her sharp eyes having figured out what few areas of skin on his hands still had sensation, and smirking in delight every time he noticed again, cheeks ever so subtly darkening, but his eyes darting away much more obvious in how she affects him.
"There's a lot you could discuss, i think it would be good for her to talk to someone-"
"Talk woman to woman?" The arch of Elenas eyebrow indicated he should chose his words carefully.
"You both had to fight to be women, fight to be feminine in the way you wanted to be, it's different, but I think it would be nice for her to know she's not the only one taking on that fight- God knows my experiences can't help in that regard,"
An affirmative hum is his answer, one hes more than happy with-
"You really care about her, don't you?"
He can feel his forehead creasing, "Of course I do, shes a great kid-"
Elenas laugh is filled with joy and fondness, the sharp edges on everything she used to do now worn away.
"You haven't fucking changed, have you? Not in any way that matters, you still have that big heart and all that love you barely know what to do with,"
Before Muro can insist on all the ways he has changed, for the worse, insist on all the ways he's so far from who he used to be, Elenas brown eyes are suddenly right in font of him, suddenly closing, dark lashes fanned against her cheeks-
His own eyes stay open as their lips touch, heart racing in panic, he needs her to know what a mistake she's making-
He takes a few seconds of shock but finally manages to pull back.
“I’m sorry, are you sure you-”
Elena leans in again to peck him on the lips, thumb still rubbing circles on his own. Her eyes are filled with sorrow, but quickly replaced with determination.
"I didn't realise you were still so affected by me,"
"This isn't something to laugh at, 'Lena, you left for a reason,"
The corners of her eyes crinkled, overwhelming fondness clear on her face, but how could it be for him?
"I came back for one to, my lovely idiota, and I'm wise enough to know how to navigate here without falling into those old traps, what, you think I haven't found dangerous things to do besides you?"
His cheeks burn at that last turn of phrase, greeted with a smirk, 'Lena knowing exactly what words she picked.
"I don't mind taking it slow Muro, you know this place and it's pitfalls better than me, but I'm tired of giving up the people I love to stay safe, what's a little trip to this side of town every now and again going to do to me really?"
Midnight phone calls from scared women he occasionally interacted with, repeating demands from his enemies at gunpoint filled his ears, Cecios tearstained face as he revealed that the scholarship was a trap from Passione, Conficcare with a black eye because someone knew enough that Muro cared about him, but not enough that he was dangerous too, and so many other images flooded his minds eye.
"More than you could know, the stakes have changed,"
"I trust you to keep me safe Muro, and I can hold my own, I even have my own enemies I'll need to protect you from,"
He finally pulls his hand away, untangling it from hers, eyes staring anywhere but at her.
"Slow, very slow- places that keep quiet, places without ears and records-"
Lips quicky brush against his forehead, dragging his eyes back to her-
"Sounds perfect,"
He slumps against the table, a large sigh turning to chuckles.
"You haven't- god I love you-"
He scrambles back into hight alert, wishing he could claw back those words-
"Love you to, idiota, I love you too,"
Maybe it will work out, certainly if Elena gets any say in the matter.
He can't hide the fondness in his voice, not sure why he ever tried, "I missed you,"
