#Gandor brothers

[niintendoqs]

Baccano! But if they all had iPhones

[empiriical]

added tick jefferson for the sole purpose of writing a flower shop / tattoo shop / coffee shop au with @closedcoffins && @c4rdsharp

[closedcoffins]

something something something, meta about how claire has always felt separate from his brothers despite them acknowledging him as a brother, and that's why he uses a separate last name and ran away once their father died.

he will call himself their brother without a problem, but the gandors also tend to refer to firo as a brother, so claire sort of has this mental block about it. while they very much probably regard him as if he were their flesh-and-blood brother, claire doesn't feel as though he has the right to regard himself that way, considering himself a welcome member of the household but an intrusion on their family. if he did, he probably wouldn't have left, and he probably would have taken up the name gandor.

ultimately, this comes down to a communications issue. claire never complained about this and the brothers never knew it was something claire thought, and he left without it ever being addressed.

[drfeelgreed]

Slowly, Jorgi picked up the revolver, brought it to his temple, and---

"------!"

Suddenly, he thrust the gun out in front of him and squeezed the trigger. Straight at the three brothers, his own bosses, across from him.

He pulled the trigger once...twice...three times, four, five, six......

Click

Click Click

Click-click-click

No fire erupted.

All that echoed through the quiet basement was the metallic sound of the hammer striking. It blended in with the jazz that filtered down from the floor above, creating an odd ensemble that lingered in Jorgi's ears.

"... That's very unfortunate, Jorgi."

Luck spoke sadly. Unusually for him, his eyes really did appear sad.

"Take a good look... Those're all blanks."

Berga spoke dispassionately, his face expressionless.

Jorgi was stunned; he had no idea what had happened. Luck handed down the verdict:

"... Listen, Jorgi. The three of us were grateful for all the work you'd done for us. We talked it over and came to a decision. If you'd steeled yourself and pulled the trigger yourself, we'd let you leave the group without a word. If you cried and begged for your life, we'd beat you half to death and let you leave. If you denied everything to the end, we'd cut your tongue out and let you leave. And...you chose the very worst outcome. I can't tell you how unhappy I am about that."

At that point, Luck shook his head and said nothing more.

This time, Jorgi really did despair and regret what he'd done. If he'd at least begged for his life...

Even now, it might not be too late. Just as he opened his mouth to speak---

A gigantic shoe was shoved into it.

Berga had suddenly jumped up onto the table and kicked Jorgi's face the way a kid would kick a ball.

"... Don't you make my brothers any sadder."

Eyebrows drawn together in a scowl, he looked down on the degenerate who lay on the floor. The lightbulb that hung right beside Berga's head was swinging violently.

Several of Jorgi's teeth had left his mouth, and the whites of his eyes showed under slightly opened eyelids. Apparently the attack had knocked him out cold.

Seeing this, several of the men who had been watching the poker match began to move. They picked up Jorgi's body and stuffed it into a gunnysack. Then two of them lifted the sack...and climbed the stairs to the ground floor.

After this, the gunnysack would be driven outside the city and taken to a place with a view of the ocean.

Jorgi was unconscious now, but he would probably never wake up again.

The man who knew his fate quietly stirred the vocal chords he almost never used.

"...... Damn fool..."

The only ones who heard Keith's soft murmur were his two younger brothers.

Baccano! 1930 "The Rolling Bootlegs". Chapter One, "Day One".

[gunmeister]

as a matter of fact you probably would not know what scene i was talking about even if you did rewatch because it was not included in the anime hope this helps!

we as a society can actually never forgive the baccano anime for not including the scene where luck stabs a man with his own severed hand

[houjicha]

This is my little contribution to Baccanovember, for the prompt Isolation/Family. This is actually a WIP of the first chapter for a much longer fic that I've been working on for a while, but it also works as a short story~

December 1920

The Gandors' apartment

Firo was lying in a tiny bed, holding his hands over his mouth and struggling to keep his breath steady.

Breathe in, breathe out.

His eyes were starting to burn, and he found a crack in the wall to focus on. The shadow of it seemed to reach across the wall like an ugly, misshapen finger. The wall was ugly, too.

Everything was ugly. Home was even uglier, but at least it was home.

Except he might not be going home anymore.

Breathe in—  There was a hitch. Not a big one, but in the quiet room it was agonizingly loud.

Claire and Berga were arguing, and it didn’t sound like one of their silly fights that ended in a bonk on their heads and unrepentant laughter. They were angry, and it had sent a spike of fear through him. 

I’m old enough to take care of myself, Claire had said.

No kid brother of mine is gonna run away with a buncha clowns, Berga had retorted.

They said I’m good at it, Claire had said, and Pa Gandor ain’t around no more.

Goddammit, Claire, I’m just lookin’ out for ya!

Yeah, but you ain’t my dad, and you can’t tell me what to do! You’re only fifteen. I just turned ten, and that’s more’n old enough to have a job!

Firo was going to be nine. He’d never had a job. He didn’t work because Ma had said to stay in school, stay out of trouble, and let her work, and he did until he got too stupid to concentrate and too angry to keep from fighting with other boys. And now she couldn’t work anyway, and she was probably going to die, and it was like everything had become impossible overnight, and his world just continued to break and break and break.

Claire was leaving, and he was leaving because he was old enough to take care of himself, which meant Firo was going to be too but he didn’t want to, he didn’t want to because he was the youngest and the weakest and he needed to grow up like everybody else but instead all he wanted to do was lie here and cry like a little girl. 

“Doesn’t mean you gotta run off!” Berga was saying now. “Don’t you care at all about this family?”

“Yeah, stupid, that’s why I’m leavin’!”

“Who’re you callin’ stupid? C’mere, you little—!” Berga’s yell was cut off by a grunt of pain.

Firo listened for the fight to begin in earnest, but there was only silence.

A few moments later, Berga yelled, “Hey, we’re not finished!” just as the bedroom door suddenly banged open.

“Keith says to go pack so I’m goin’!!” Claire yelled before slamming the door shut again.

Firo waited for Berga to come barging in next, but instead he just heard the distinctive low notes of Keith’s voice rumbling through the walls, and then Berga’s heavy footsteps heading out the front door and down the stairs. Whatever he’d broken his silence to say, the fight was over for now.

Meanwhile, there was a scrape of a drawer and the rustle of Claire’s shirts and trousers hitting the floor. Firo squeezed his eyes shut, and a couple of drops slid down his cheeks. He tried to wipe them off with the back of his hand without making the motion too obvious, but his chest betrayed him with a sudden hiccup.

"Firo?" Claire’s voice dropped to a whisper. “Did I wake you up?”

Firo tried to stay very still. If he had to cry, he at least didn’t want to do it in front of Claire.

"Heeeey." There was a poke in his back. "You okay?"

Firo tried to will his throat to relax before he spoke. "...Yeah." It still came out raspy.

"Nuh-uh." Another poke. "Are you crying?"

"N—" The word cut off as he sensed another hitch in his breath coming. "No." 

"Liar." The mattress shook as Claire climbed onto it, and then there was a weight on his side. He could feel Claire's breath near his face. This time, there was another poke, this time on his cheek.

"Get off!" Firo almost yelled, flinging his arm up hard enough to roll the rest of his body over onto his back. 

As Claire stared back at him, Firo immediately felt his face heating up, and he rolled back over to face the wall again. "Just leave me alone."

Silence.

"Is it your ma?"

"I said leave me alone."

"This is my bed."

Firo crossed his arms, still lying on his side. "Well, maybe I'll sleep on the floor, then."

"Nuh-uh. It's my bed which means my rules which means—" A much heavier weight on his shoulder again, and then Claire's face, upside down. "You gotta feel better."

Firo didn't want to feel better; he wanted his mom to feel better and everyone to come home. He wanted everything to be better. And if the world had to be horrible, then he at least wanted to be sad about it where no one could see.

He rolled until Claire's face disappeared and the other boy's weight was across his back like a heavy blanket. "No," he mumbled into the mattress.

"Why don't you wanna feel better?" 

"...'Cause it won't fix anything." 

"Huh? Why?" 

"'Cause shut up and leave me alone!"

Firo regretted it the instant he said it, and the weight left his back. 

“...Sorry,” he mumbled. He turned his face to the side and looked up from the mattress guiltily.

Firo didn’t want to snap at Claire so much. But he kinda did, too, and he didn’t know why. Because he was stupid, probably. 

Claire sat back with his legs criss-cross and shoved his hands into the open space in the middle. “Nah.”

“No, you were being nice.” Firo sat up and crossed his ankles, too, mirroring Claire’s posture in a hunched sort of way. “...They said she’s gonna die. My ma. I dunno if I’m gonna see her again.”

It was the first time Firo had said that part out loud.

He knew the word “quarantine,” which was a fancy way of saying someone was going to die all alone, as far as he could tell. It made adults scared, and as soon as he said it to Keith, he’d been ushered inside for dinner. But Firo couldn’t eat, so he’d just tried to sleep instead, only to learn he was losing Claire, too. It was more than he could take.

"And Pa Gandor died last year and now you’re g-gonna leave—"

As the words spilled out, there was no stopping it now. His breath was shaky, his nose was all stuffy and gross, and he was making a big mess of everything. 

"And I'm just a crybaby—"

"No, you're not." Claire said, tilting his head. “You’re my friend.”

Firo raised his head slightly. “Wh-what’s that gotta do with it?” he protested, but he already knew he was going to lose this battle. Claire’s pale-brown eyes had that look in them they sometimes got. Like all he had to do was say something, and that made it true.

“You’re my friend,” Claire repeated, “so you're part of my world. That’s not gonna change.”

One time, when Firo was five, he had gone out to play in the snow, and one of the older, bigger kids in the neighborhood had stolen his scarf. Firo had played outside anyway, even taking off his gloves to make better snowballs. When he came home, his mother had taken one look at his bright red face and hands and rushed to heat some water. She’d kept the bath warm and not too hot, but on his frostbitten skin, it had burned.

Sometimes, the things Claire said made him feel like that.

“I am a crybaby, though.” Firo shook his head. “...I’m scared.”

“That means you’re brave,” Claire said. “I heard Pa Gandor say bein’ scared makes you brave, or somethin’.” He pouted a little and crossed his arms. “Then I asked him what if you’re never scared, and he said nobody’s never scared and I said well I am and then he said maybe I should be and then I’d stop jumping off the damn roof.”

Firo laughed a little, and a smile rose to his lips and then fell. “...I don't want you to leave,” he said quietly.

Claire pouted. “C’mon, you too? I told ya, I'm good at it—”

“I know you are,” Firo said with a hiccup. “You’re gonna be the best one in the whole circus. I bet you'll be so good at it you’ll n-never come back.”

Claire paused then. “Nah, I’m comin’ back. I’m gonna go lots of places, but I’m comin’ back.”

“How do you know—”

Claire grabbed his shoulders. “You think I don’t wanna see you again or somethin’? You’re my family.”

Firo swiped at his eyes. Just cause Claire wanted to come back didn’t mean he would. Ma wanted to come back. Pa Gandor probably would if he could, so—

"Argh, listen up!" Claire got to his feet on the mattress and pointed at Firo. "You know what I think? I think you're gonna be fine. You got me and Keith and Berga and Luck and me, and—"

"—You said 'me' twice—" 

"—and I say we’ll always be here for ya!"

With that, Claire crossed his arms and plopped back down onto the bed with enough finality to make the frame screech and scrape loudly across the floor. There was a muffled yell and a couple of loud thumps from below. 

A moment passed in silence.

"Well…what about when you die. You gotta die someday," Firo muttered, a bit petulantly. 

"Aw, c’mon! That’s not gonna be for a hundred years at least.” Claire tilted his head. “But then what happens to everybody else? Does my world just disappear?"

Firo almost started to argue—Claire had been talking a lot lately about dreams or something—but he didn’t want to, really. Right now, he couldn’t imagine the world without Claire, either.

So as Claire swayed from side to side like a wind-up toy in a shop window, Firo just twisted his fingers together in his lap. "You promise?”

Claire snapped out of his reverie. “Yeah! I wanna see all the flying cars and stuff.”

“What if you had a flying car, too?” Firo wondered. “Then you could go all over and come back, easy.”

“All the way to California! Or Italy! Or, um…the North Pole!”

Firo wrinkled his nose. “Santa’s not even real.”

”C’mon, what about the reindeer?”

“There’s no reindeer, either,” Firo retorted with authority. “’Cause the polar bears would eat ’em.”

“Nuh-uh! You’re makin’ that up!”

“No, I’m not! I heard it!”

“Yeah, well, you know what I heard?” Claire said, and hit him with a pillow.

Firo was stunned for a moment, but instead of grabbing a pillow of his own, he viciously yanked Claire’s out of his hands and tried to whack him on the head as hard as he could. It felt good. He wanted to hit him over and over. 

But of course, Claire wasn’t about to take that lying down—figuratively speaking. He leaned back and caught Firo’s hit with his foot, then rolled over to Luck’s bed and snatched up the pillow, and then the fight began in earnest.

With each hit dealt and received, Firo felt his emotions calming a little. Being mad at Claire felt better than being sad, but once he was done being mad, it felt like any other pillow fight with his best friend, and pillow fights were fun.

Finally, he pulled both hands back to just throw his weapon at Claire and call an end to it—but of course, Claire batted it out of the air just in time for the door to open.

And that was how Luck Gandor took a pillow to the face. 

Claire giggled, while Firo pressed his lips together to keep from smiling. “Sorry, Luck.”

Luck glared at Claire, then snatched the pillow off the floor and hurled it back at him. To Firo, he said, “Keith’s heating the soup again, Firo. He thinks if you’re gonna be awake, you should eat something.”

Firo met Luck’s eyes, and wondered how he felt about all this. He seemed to be okay, but Firo could never quite tell with Luck.

“Glad you’re feeling better,” was all Luck said, and Firo realized that he was feeling better, just a little. And Keith was right; he was getting hungry.

As Firo climbed out of bed, Claire did, too. “You think I can have more, too?”

“You have to ask him,” Luck said, “but probably.”

“Wait, Claire, don’t you gotta get ready?” Firo asked, just as Claire’s arm fell across his shoulders.

“Eh, later,” Claire said, already dragging Firo towards the door.

“Wait—”

Firo barely kept from tripping over the half-packed pile of clothes spilling out of Claire’s drawer, and the ghost of tomorrow brushed against the back of his mind. The knot in his stomach wasn’t gone, and neither was the ache in his chest.

But the weight of the arm around his shoulders was here, too, and Firo let it stay.

[chancellorxofxtrash]

i'm still salty about Mother's Basement video where he shittalked Durarara's first OP like tell me you didn't understand anything about Durarara without telling me you didn't understand anything about Durarara

"We don't find out ANYTHING about these characters from the OP" because it's a big theme of Durarara that. People you cross the street. Are not always what they first seem like. That people like Seiji who seems normal, is anything but. People like Shizuo, who seems terrifying and dangerous and angry all the time, there are more to him than that.

"main characters" about the Raira Trio are you HIGH. Did you miss the POINT. Mikado is nOT the main character. It's an understandable mistake to make, as he is our initial POV character whose eyes we study Ikebukuro through for the initial leg of the story but jesus christ the entire point of Mikado is that he Wants to be the main character, but Isn't. Celty is the driving point of the show. You could even make the argument that Ikebukuro itself is, although Narita considers Celty to be the main character

And his bitching that Anri cuts the scene for "no reason" just because Chané cut it in Baccano... have you even WATCHED Durarara, Geoff. Because I don't think you did. Anri has a really fucking OBVIOUS reason for cutting the scene and guess fucking what it's fucking FORESHADOWING OH MY GOD you complain so much about the Durarara OP not doing enough foreshadowing for you but you dismiss the most blatant one

AND YOU WERE EVEN WEIRD ABOUT BACCANO like literally where the fuck did you get the idea that the Martillos are connected to the Gandors via money. Literally where. They are completely separate crime families, linked together via ACTUAL FUCKING FRIENDSHIP??? LIKE???? THEY SPELL IT OUT AT THE END OF THE SHOW? EVEN IN THE BEGINNING OF THE SHOW IT'S OBVIOUS LUCK AND FIRO ARE FRIENDS? THE MARTILLOS ACCEPT THE GANDOR BROTHERS AS GUESTS FOR FIRO'S SAKE. IT'S NOT A BUSINESS-RELATIONSHIP.

Also you missed the literal "Ennis is a human in a bottle" shot in the OP good fucking job Geoff

[abyssalplein]

I was cleaning out my files and found this Gandor brothers series(?) that I did. How did I forget about this? These are from 2 years ago???

[strawberrisoulmate]

psst. you should share the wedding reception dance scenario :3c

wahhhhhh, you're really gonna make me type all that out, huh >///< (this ended up being super long, so i'll put it under a cut)

so basically... i had been thinking a bit about how both luck and hanna would be at yours and claire's wedding. obviously.

claire grew up with the gandors and is considered their adopted brother, so of course they'd be there to support him on his wedding day. hell, i could maybe even see the gandor brothers (+ firo) being his groomsmen with luck potentially even being his best man. regardless, they'd definitely be there. and, since the two of our inserts are such good friends, she would absolutely be there as a guest to the bride (you! uwu)

with all of that said, i can imagine a scenario where our inserts are chatting together and enjoying the wedding reception. there's music pouring out from the stage where the band that claire absolutely hired with his assassin money is and everyone is having a great time drinking and dancing and laughing together.

across the room, luck is observing the party from a distance, sipping his glass of champagne as he watches his brothers dance with their wives from the sidelines. isaac and miria are drinking and laughing loudly with a few of the other guests while firo practically trips over his own feet trying to ask ennis to dance. it's all good fun. he's never been one for dancing himself, but he's perfectly happy to enjoy the atmosphere where everyone else is having a great time around him. it isn't until a flash of red hair and a bright, coy smile comes into view that luck's attention is pulled from the center of the room, followed quickly by an arm being thrown over his shoulder before he has a chance to dodge it.

"luck! whatcha doin' all the way over here? there's a party going on, ya know, and you're over here brooding and drinking all by yourself?"

"i'm not brooding. just enjoying the music from a distance, is all."

"oh, come on! let loose once in a while, will ya? keith and berga both brought their wives along and you didn't even bother to bring a plus one? it's my wedding, remember? you should get out there and dance with someone at least!"

"you know i don't dance. and i don't need a plus one. i'm perfectly content to be here on my own. shouldn't you be with your wife right now?"

"yeah, i'm about to go find her. but still, just do me this one favor. grab yourself a doll to dance just one song with and i'll die a happy man. well, i won't die, but you get the picture. look, there's a cute one right over there. bet she wouldn't turn ya down if you asked her."

"i told you, i don't need to—"

"whoops, gotta go. i think i hear my wife callin' me~"

and with that, he spins on his heel and rushes off back into the crowd.

cut back to our inserts talking before we are promptly interrupted by claire. "pardon the interruption, miss, but i'm gonna be stealin' her away for a little while," he says before taking your hand and practically sweeping you off your feet with a twirl. as he's whisking you away, he sends a glance over his shoulder and is like “oh, and i’ve already taken care of payin’ you back for the advice ya gave me a while back. you can thank me later 👋” and then pulls you along to dance.

for a moment, hanna is confused and just standing there with a blank expression. paying her back? what did he mean by that? she wonders to herself before her thoughts are sharply cut off by the silhouette of a figure coming into view. she looks up at the person with curiosity before her eyes meet those of luck gandor. a man she'd met on occasion and had spoken to once or twice, but they hadn't had many opportunities to converse all that deeply. before she can ask him if he needs anything from her, he speaks up and asks her if she would like to dance.

huh? a dance? with me?

immediately, her cheeks begin to heat up and she pauses, stunned silent for a couple of seconds before she fumbles out a modest — and slightly awkward — "s-sure. i'd be honored" before reaching out and taking his hand.

as they make their way towards the dance floor, hanna looks around the room, catching your eye as you dance with your new husband and gives you a confused look, only to be met with a surprised grin back. luck's feet stop, making hanna stumble a bit behind him, before he turns back to her. the hand that had been in hers moved to her waist, resting against her lower back and the girl could feel her face heating up even warmer than before. for a moment, she hesitates, but ultimately follows his lead and steps closer, moving one hand to land daintily on his shoulder while the other gently rests in his free hand.

as they begin to move, stepping and swaying to the music, hanna's eyes fall to the floor, watching her feet in an attempt to both make sure she doesn't accidentally step on his as well as to avoid the piercing gaze that she could feel staring holes into her. she'd never danced with anyone, and much less been this close to any man before, so she was sure that her nerves were very clearly shining through.

"you know, i think you're supposed to look at the person you're dancing with."

"a-ah… i'm sorry."

"you seem nervous."

"well, i've never… i mean, nobody has ever asked me to dance before."

he chuckles softly.

"well, i've never asked anyone to dance before, so i suppose there's a first for everything."

the girl quietly squeaks with embarrassment, but something about hearing that makes her incredibly happy. she forces her eyes to look up at him and he's gazing back down at her with a charming smile that made her heart harshly skip a beat.

"i suppose i'll follow your lead then, mr. luck."

a nervous giggle escapes her as she quickly corrects herself.

"excuse me— i mean mr. gandor."

"hm, luck is fine. you can drop the "mister", too. makes me feel old."

"a-alright…"

and that's pretty much it.

they continue to dance until the song ends and then part ways, but oh man, does hanna now have some feelings to sort through ahah.

she spends the entire rest of the evening in a daze as she replays it over and over in her head and continues to find herself daydreaming about his pretty eyes and his charming smile and the way he held her as they danced and the tingling feeling left on her fingers from how they felt against his hand.

she was already a hopeless romantic before, but now she's absolutely down bad 😂

[boundlss]

@futurecomposed ( luck gandor ) / starter call ( melvi dormentaire ).

For all that Melvi is capable of impeccable composition on a good day, his faux-polite demeanor is only barely kept under wraps around most people. Luck, ever the exception, hasn't had the pleasure of bringing Melvi's public facade into the privacy of their apartment in quite a long time, but there are still things Melvi doesn't tell him right away even now.

For reasons other than politeness, Melvi can't help but worry over the thoughts that threaten to consume him. They aren't particularly bad, this time, though he does also generally struggle to tell Luck the difficult thoughts. They're nerve-wracking for a different reason.

Chiefly, the reason is that Melvi specifically remembers Luck admitting that he didn't particularly care for marriage.

Melvi hadn't cared for it either until recently, although looking back on it he supposes it had probably only been because marriage wasn't something he could even apply to himself and Luck until recently. He'd never been envious of Luck's brothers and the formal, official nature of their relationships---a tall feat, considering the ease with which Melvi experiences envy.

But now the idea of it isn't quite impossible anymore, and Melvi can't stop thinking about it.

It's the cause of some strange, pensive silence that follows Melvi---an unusual occurance even on his best days, so Luck is probably at least a little grateful for the small reprieve from Melvi's usual needling. Unfortunately, Melvi intends to break the silence to let some of his thoughts escape him.

"Luck," he calls, glancing over to the kitchen where Luck is just wrapping up his attempt at an easy recipe Berga had sent to him. "Is there a particular reason you don't put much stock in marriage?"

[kitsune528]

A Scene in the Light Novel that I wish was in the anime but I know it wasn't because it was cut for time but god damn it's just such a fun scene: The Poker game between the Gandor Brothers and Jorgi

[starrymused]

Luck Gandor is one of the heads of the Gandor Family mafia alongside his older brothers Keith and Berga. He and his brothers become complete immortals in November 1930 after unwittingly consuming the Cure-All Elixir at the Martillo Family's promotion party for Firo Prochainezo.

Luck conducts himself with practiced composure, usually suave and courteous even when that courtesy is not sincerely meant. Such conduct befits the role of a quintessential mafioso, a role Luck wants to, is expected to, and must fill as a Gandor boss; as neither he nor those close to him are fully convinced he is suited to be mafia, he constantly, consciously emulates the qualities he 'ought' to have, including ruthlessness and shrewd civility.

While Luck is not 'cut out' for the mafia, he has proven himself more than competent and capable in acting like one to the point where some like Firo Prochainezo will call him the "perfect mafioso" he strives to be. Furthermore, underneath Luck's calm veneer lies turbulent emotion—up to 1930—including that of passionate violent intent when his family, friends, or men have been killed or harmed in some way. His vengeful ire can be genuinely murderous in such situations, though he possesses enough self-awareness and self-control to recognize such feelings and actively try to manage them.

As honed as Luck's sangfroid is, it is not ironclad. The fury that he suppresses when his men are murdered in 1930 boils when he is confronted with their murderers, and he instinctively shoots Dallas Genoard in the head when that fury bubbles over. Meanwhile, there is no similar scale when it comes to forgiveness: he cannot and will not forgive those who have done harm to those he cares about or is responsible for. The pain he feels for those killed under his watch or wronged is long-lasting and sharp, and not easily forgotten.

Unbridled anger is not the only emotion that has cracked Luck's mask of composure; when talking to Maria Barcelito, whom he finds hard to manage, he has on more than one occasion let his exasperation and irritation get the better of him—much to his men's amusement, and to his lack thereof. He is also surprised and chagrined at himself when he realizes how bluntly he is speaking to Eve Genoard in 1932, more affected by their personal situation than he should have been as a mafia boss.

Luck's need to prove himself is as much for his brothers as it is for his men, other Families, and himself. As the youngest brother, he strove to act mature and be taken seriously (when he was often not due to his age) even in adolescence, and his admiration for his brothers' more natural gangster mien—coupled with envy—continues on through 1935. His brothers are the only people with whom he drops his mask of calm, and even then only in private.

As someone introspective and prone to overthinking, Luck is conscious of how immortality has affected him and his brothers, and believes himself to have changed for the worse. In becoming immortal, he no longer fears death like he did when mortal; in becoming immortal he has become apathetic, his emotions no longer as fierce and violent as they were before. This troubles him to no small degree, as especially does the possibility he may never again possess such passion, and he admits to feeling jealous when he recognizes such passion and life-risking determination in others.

[c4rdsharp]

why him?

It was question Luck knew was coming ; it was the question on everyone’s lips whenever they learned about his relationship with Melvi. Why him.

It was a good question, he won’t deny. As tired as he was of hearing it, it wasn’t as if Luck didn’t know where their concerns & criticisms came from. It was a question he’s been asking himself, and it was always one he came up rather empty for.

No, not empty . . . because there was a reason for why Melvi. There were several, in fact, but to concisely put that all into words, those feelings . . . it would be hard to understand. Not in any real complicated way, but just as to why Melvi was so special to gain the privileges so many people have sought – to knows the ins - and - outs of Luck’s mind & heart without having to dig, the ability to have him, ALL of him, to be in front of them. To know that the person they were liking at is real & true, not some proximity of living. To know why Melvi of all people got that, and not even his brothers to some extent . . . Luck couldn’t say.

He could, of course, voice his theories, but that’s all they were : theories. Speculation. That doesn’t make them anymore real than Berga’s anger. A heavy pause fell over the room, as Luck gripped his other arm with a light squeeze. His brown eyes grew distant, as if looking past Berga and into the room beyond him, beyond the wall. For a second or two, it didn’t seem as if Luck would answer, but then he drew in a sharp breath before letting it go, all the tension pent up in his body.

“ . . . i don’t know, “ he breathed, as if in confession, “ i’ve been asking myself that too. i could very well tell you my guesses, if you’d prefer, but i sincerely doubt anything i say will satisfy your anger. i think you’d rather hear the truth than for me to tell you comforting lies. “ Not that what Luck had to say about Melvi were lies, but he knew Berga wouldn’t be thinking so objectively at this current moment to accept them as truths. Ever since Luck had opened the door for Melvi to become one of their own, it seemed as if Berga had no intention of changing his previous opinion on the man – not that Luck could blame him, of course, but to give any sort of answer in this scenario that would convince Berga to let it live . . . it was practically its own obstacle.

“ if i told you what i think, you wouldn’t grasp what makes Melvi so different from everyone else – i don’t either, but that doesn’t change the course of how i feel about him. you should know better than anyone that feelings don’t always have a logic to them. “ It was why Luck never enjoyed talking about his – they defied all sense of reason & to put them into a box, to make a long line of trajectory like a line of dominoes, only gave cause for more of them to escape & rebel. He didn’t like thinking on them, or pinning down any sort of reason to their existence, so perhaps his answer was simply less critical than Berga would allow. However, what was the point if all the lines came to the same conclusion?

“ . . . it is because i see myself in him, and he sees himself in me. in that way, i am known, without having to translate unto others the burdens that i bear. i am not required to be anyone but myself around him, whatever that self might be. “ Luck didn’t know what self he could possibly have outside the Gandor family, but that was a matter for another time. He has barely accepted his faults outside what he has entangled about his immortality. “ so . . . i s’ppose, in a rather ironic twist of fate, i trust him. deeply & implicitly. “

There. That was it. The whole thing : he trusted Melvi. And that was the part nobody, not even him, understood. “ if i could tell you why or how that came to be, i would, but as it stands, i’m not even sure how to explain myself without sounding mad. i am aware, more than anyone, about Melvi’s previous transgressions – he has made an attempt on my life once before, and perhaps it is foolish to assume he wouldn’t do that again, but . . . “ this is so awfully damn confusing. “ that’s always a risk i was going to take with any man i have chosen to court. “ Trailing off here, his eyes came back into focus on Berga’s presence, sharpening with a cutting question like he was issuing forth an unspoken challenge : is that to your satisfaction?

the last thing he wants is to let his still-simmering temper bleed onto luck. berga's been careful his whole life to never turn his anger on his brothers, even by accident. he hadn't been so aware of his own strength as a child, but he learned quickly, && ever since, it's the one thing he's tried to be conscious of.

at the moment, he doesn't really trust himself not to snap, so he keeps his distance, turning his palms down && instead digging his nails into his thighs. the fabric of his pants bunches up in his fingers, but he pays the added wrinkles no mind.

it does annoy him that luck seems to be trying to be evasive — something berga is used to with both of his brothers, && something that bothers him to no end.

"he didn't have to," berga says grimly, shaking his head, which is technically true, even though the answer is yes. there's a lot that goes over berga's head — his brothers' feelings are not one of them. "...i wanted to hear it from you, though."

frankly, he's hurt. but that's less important. he does, actually, understand why luck waited, even before his explanation, which is honestly fair. what's really getting under his skin, what he just cannot wrap his mind around is —

"why him?"

[closedcoffins]

@ruenoirs likes this post for an assigned baccano fave!

i'm going to be honest when i say that i definitely did have a character who popped into my head as an active first choice, but she requires some explaining before i tell you about her.

since the one muse i know you write is poe, this recommendation is based largely on that. she's not a character featured in the anime and because she's not in many of the books i've come prepared with a backup recommendation that IS featured in more relevant plotlines.

that said, my initial recommendation for you is monica campanella. both she and poe focus heavily on their relationships with and feeling towards others in their respective narratives, and as a result the people who consume those narratives tend to reduce their characters down to just the love interest for the more popular character.

monica herself is a nervous wreck. she's also a calculating and cold killer. both of these things are true depending on who she's around. she's someone who grew up hating the world and faking all of her smiles until someone came into her life who interested her enough for her to feel something for them. i won't spoil her story as it spoils most of the plot of the 1700s novels, but she gains notoriety initially as a serial killer called the "mask maker".

that said, i mentioned a backup choice, and that backup choice is luck gandor.

aside from the fact that luck is a canon fan of poe's works, which maybe influenced my decision-making here a little, luck is also the sort of person who seems a little more amiable than he actually is at first glance. he's the youngest brother of three and one of the leaders of a mafia family, and though his general demeanor suggests ruthlessness and a determination to do whatever is necessary for his family, one of his biggest weaknesses is his tendency to give people fair chances when he shouldn't.

runner-ups: roy maddock, begg garrott, mark wilmens, huey laforet.

[drfeelgreed]

tag drop 004.

the youngest brother isn't in high spirits. / luck gandor. no rest for the agents. / edward noah. no one picks up the nobody when he gets out of jail. / nader schasschule. the girl in black regrets nothing. / chané laforet. there's no other way to live. / dune.

the quiet man doesn't lose his cool. / keith gandor.

dance with the stray rabbits. / pamela mccall. run like a bunny. / lana sutton. bunny hasty. / juliano barsotti. bunny tasty. / gabriel barsotti.

things don't go as planned. / donatello abbate. they don't go back on their word. / eve genoard. they can't avoid getting involved. / charon walken. quiet mornings don't suit us. / berga gandor. there's no way we won't be interrupted. / tim. there's no tomorrow for us. / kate gandor. communication is no longer possible. / connor torra.

[gunmeister]

i actually genuinely consider baccano to be a masterclass when it comes to compelling relationship characters and i mean this in the romantic platonic and familial way. it's one of the only pieces of media where i've genuinely enjoyed the majority of the canon ships. it has realistic healthy AND unhealthy sibling dynamics (maiza & gretto and the gandor brothers are genuinely some of the best siblings i have encountered. in media). when two characters are friends (chane & jacuzzi, chris & ricardo, maiza & begg) i genuinely do believe and understand them being close to eachother and getting along.