#everyone's a little bit gay for bucciarati | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

the-lavender-room · 1 year

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Bucci gang headcannons because I want to keep them somewhere

Cw: gets sad

Giorno

Giorno used to find dead animals and just kinda poke at them (usually with a stick), sometimes he would leave them behind his house or buried in the yard and come back for the bones after bugs had picked the meat off (most of the time another animal would have taken it)

He stole the photo of Dio from his mom. Sometimes at night he looks and thinks what he would have been like or if he would have liked him (polnareff doesn’t have the heart to tell him that Dio was probably too much of a selfish bastard to care)

He asked requiem what they did to Diavolo, he never got an answer and is horrified from thinking about it. Sometimes he wonders if his punishment was too much.

Had his stand as a kid, though he (golden experience) was small and looked like a ladybug larva and could only make pre-existing plants grow more.

Abbacchio

Abbacchio was raised by a single mother and when he came out (trans and gay) she was fully supportive. They did lose touch when everything happened but once he met Bucciarati and started getting better; he got beck in contact with her and introduced her to Bucciarati and Fugo. Her and Bucciarati got along well, but Fugo…he wasn’t ready to get an “new grandma”

He has heterochromia (right eye gold/yellow, left eye purple)

Abbacchio and his old partner were actually childhood friends

Narancia

He was hoping to get a “study partner” when met Giorno, and maybe Fugo would have gone easier on him in front of someone new and proper looking.

He also likes the way Giorno’s hair smells (probably like strawberrys)

He didn’t know or feel when he died. He just woke at a table with Abbacchio and another guy. He jumped into his(Abbacchio) arms thinking he was alive again.

After the funeral, he wasn’t buried; instead Giorno turned his body into an orange tree in his garden, Fugo visits every day; sometimes to take or cry, and sometimes he reads out loud under the tree.

Bucciarati

He has a half-sister, he didn’t meet her until he was 19 and found her lost in a grocery store and helped her find her(their) mom.

He and Abbacchio (legally) adopted Fugo as soon as they got married (illegally)

He knows how to sew and helped make the rest of the teams outfits.

He used to experiments with Sticky Fingers to see what could unzip before breaking it.

He has licked everyone on the team at least once

Was glad he quickly lost feeling, he didn’t want to feel his body rot out of himself

Fugo

He got very attached to Bucciarati right away. To the point of getting jealous if someone else was talking to Bucciarati for too long.

He thought he was straight until he saw Giorno writhing on the ground in pain after stabbing himself with a snake (Abbacchio and Mista laughed at him of that being his awakening)

The old grannies of Naples though of him as a little ducklings following Bucciarati around.

After PH:F has been letting his stand out casually more, give him a chance to bond with it.

Mista

Likes his hat and sweater but only wore the leather tiger prints because he thought he needed to “fit in” more.

Was initially disappointed that his stand is just a bunch screaming children and not a badass humanoid or creature. But now he won’t trade them for the world.

Sometimes Giorno would make jokes about his childhood and he’d get a bit mortified and concerned by it.

He blamed himself for Bucciarati’s death, and even after learning about the zombie thing he still things he could have done more to help.

He felt really guilty about about what he did at the beginning of PH:F. He didn’t want the last thing he did to Fugo was being a jerk and threaten to kill him. When Fugo came back alive, he (Mista) spent over 30 minutes hugging and apologizing to him. He didn’t want another friend to die because of him.

Trish

carries a photo of her mom with her.

Buys stuffed animals for Giorno’s birthday every year.

Whenever she’s on tour, she calls the boys at least once a day. She likes knowing if they are ok.

She also wonders what happened to Diavolo.

Sometimes she wonders what her life would have been like if her dad was in it. And sometimes wonders if the man her mom fell in love with was Diavolo or Doppio or if her mom knew about both of them.

#not art #headcanon #jojo bizarre adventure #jjba #jjba vento auero #giorno giovanna #leone abbacchio #bruno bucciarati #guido mista #narancia ghirga #pannacotta fugo #trish una #fugio #bruabba #golden wind

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sims2bellaswan · 3 years

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pas de deux VI [Bruno Bucciarati x Reader | Risotto Nero x Reader]

[SFW]

AO3 VERSION

PREVIOUS CHAPTER | NEXT CHAPTER

You’ve worked your whole life to earn a place in the Rome ballet company, yet everyone seems to work against you.

Between the stress of working to match the other dancers to unforeseen romantic issues, problems just seem to pile up.

Trish’s cigarette hung from her lip as she listened to the other dancers gossip. Her appearance greatly contrasted that at the party the night before; her face showed signs of exhaustion and a hangover. Ballerinas were not permitted to smoke, but that hadn’t stopped any of the girls from doing so on their lunch break.

They spoke, quickly, about many topics. Some pointed out news articles to their wiry, little friends, while others simply gossiped by word of mouth. Trish did not take part in this ritual, too stubborn to engage and far too disillusioned to care. Though, her ears would pick up words of interest when necessary. She was much like her father in that sense.

This afternoon, the girls prattled on about how a famous ballerino’s daughter was put in jail two days ago, how those two dancers from Japan were to get married soon, and how one of the newer company dancers was supposedly sleeping with the ballet master.

That was a word of interest, yes. Trish took the cigarette from her lips, keeping it at knee level between her pointer and middle finger. “What was that?” Her brows creased the middle of her forehead.

“I’m sorry?” The dancer that had mentioned it was bewildered that she was even showing an interest in gossip. The younger prima hardly spoke if it wasn’t a necessity.

“What did you say?” Trish spoke slightly firmer, making it a point that she wanted to hear gossip. Both wildly out of character and not her cup of tea, the other ballerinas paused their conversations to hear the news as well.

“Oh,” The woman laughed, breathlessly and awkwardly, “I had just heard one of the newer members was sleeping with the ballet master.” She croaked like a frog under Trish’s scrutinizing gaze. “I don’t know who, though, no one seems to know which one it is anymore.”

“I hope it isn’t one of the boys.” Another ballerina added, sighing into her palm. “Master Nero is kind of cute, I’d be heartbroken if he were gay or something.” Her friend slapped her arm, then they both laughed.

Trish found this information odd. The conversation continued around her, girls chatting now about which person they found most attractive in the company. Yet, she could only consider how Risotto Nero wouldn’t do something as stupid as that. She had known Signore Nero when he was still a dancer and she was still a child; he worked with, then under, her father for a very long time. He wasn’t the type to seduce a dancer into ruining her career like that.

Evening settled onto the world like a warm blanket. Trish extinguished her cigarette, dropping it in a cup on the windowsill and spitting out the window. Light slowly brightened the city from windows and streetlamps, bouncing off the stone streets and shimmering to the naked eye. The wind slowed down from that afternoon and while it was said that there would be rain, couples still walked hand-in-hand down the street.

Evening for you, however, meant the start of a tumultuous night spent working. You couldn’t go home, eat dinner, and spend the rest of the night lounging about on the couch in your apartment. You had to go dance more than you already have. With a man that you’re certain despises you.

The doors to the company looked more decrepit at night. This was a fact you thought you'd understand, yet as you stood before the large wooden doors, you found yourself shivering. Maybe it was the cooler night air, but something was wrong right now. The vibes felt off. With a start, you pushed them open.

The lights were still on inside. As you walked, you found dancers strewn about the place like dolls. Some slept on their friends’ shoulder, others were arguing over phones or looking up Uber prices. You supposed some dancers stayed later than others. You kept your distance.

Fearful like being caught for a crime you didn't commit, you quietly made your way to the studio room. You opened the door to find your ballet master, mid stretch, in front of the mirror. His form was almost godlike, his flexibility hardly fading with age or lack of practice. You admired in awe for a moment, then cleared your throat. Your phone said 7:02. You hoped you weren’t too late.

He sat up, giving you a quick glance over. You hadn’t kept your leotard on, you thought leggings and a tank top would work fine. He said nothing but his expression wasn’t one you liked. You’d have to get used to it. He stood, clearing the floor so you could change your shoes.

“Wear your pointe shoes. You’ll be en pointe for this.” He stated, his back to you. You were not in the mood to be en pointe, but in this room, whatever the ballet master says, goes. You slid on your shoes, quickly tying the ribbon.

Even without his civilian shoes, Risotto stood at least a head over you. You felt like a child next to him, which was probably how he felt as well, considering how lowly he thought of you. You stood at the ready, in first position, for him to begin his instructions.

“You will be learning the pas de deux from act two of Giselle, understand?” He finally turns to you, watching as you find the center of the studio floor. He finds a similar position behind you.

He says a form, you take it. En pointe, you take little steps backwards, as per his instructions. You knew the Giselle pas de deux, not well but it’s more than nothing. It’s an intimate dance, with lots of lifting and touching your partner. Normally, you’d love to dance the technically difficult piece but with him? You tried to determine his level of seriousness as you finished the move in his arms, hands wrapped at your waist.

You catch the two of you in the mirror, his expression matches yours in it’s solemn nature. You lose sight of yourself as you lift your leg and arms, once again per his instructions. Risotto is quiet for a moment as he spins you, softly. Your head turned away from both him and the mirror, you can’t see his expression anymore, cant check if it's morphed from the sadness he showed to disdain for you. It made you nervous.

“Good,” is the only thing he has said so far, beyond choreography. It imbues something in your chest, whether that be spite or pride is hard to tell anymore. Risotto pushed your torso down, now level with your hips. “Lift your leg higher, straighter.” His voice is quiet. The room is so serene.

You rise back up, your extended leg wraps around his hips and your head falls into the crook of his neck. His firm hand stays at your waist as he flourishes with his free one. You open your eyes again to catch another glimpse in the mirror. He looks so professional, his brows scrunched in the anguish Albrecht felt, lips parted slightly in a frown.

You move away from his chest, extending your leg further. Both his hands on your waist, you move your leg for a moment then return to the ground.

“Ready?” He asks, again, so quietly. You nod, not leaving your position. You know what comes next, you have to nail several lifts, returning to arabesque everytime he sets you down.

Risotto lifts you like you weigh nothing, as you mime a grand jete. He lifts you again, this time completely over his head and you bend your back as much as humanly possible to get your legs as straight as humanly possible. You land in an arabesque.

“Stop.” He lets your waist go. If it weren’t for the balance you spent years perfecting, you would’ve fallen on your ass.

You huffed, slightly, “What was wrong with that? That was the best lift I’ve ever done!”

“No, it was sloppy.” He stands in front of you, between yourself and the mirror. Risotto sighs, he’s tired. “You were so focused on your legs, you forgot every other part of your body.” His tone grew more frustrated as he continued. “Your arms were all over the place. Your bend was too far.” You had to hold back something in you that wanted to punch him.

“So? You can't see my hands and back on the stage, but my legs are on full view.” Your hands flew to your hips. Your own tone suddenly took a frustrated note as well.

He stepped closer to you, emphasizing his words. “So, it’s not correct.”

You bit at the raw flesh of your inner cheek. You were no longer sure if you felt more of a need to storm out or cry. “It was never a problem before.” Your voice firm, your resolve steeled, you felt a wave of confidence flood over you as the words simply left your mouth.

Risotto closed his eyes, “It is now.” Oh, look, there went your confidence, right out the door. He moved back to the center of the floor. “Again. From the top.” You, dejectedly, return to your position and begin again.

He had you do the entire first quarter of the Giselle Act II pas de deux seventeen times. The two minute section felt longer every time you did it. But, each time you did it, he found something different to critique. You think it was the 6th repeat that you caught his eye in the mirror and he had looked away quickly. You were sure you had caught him looking for things to scrutinize.

As even he began to feel tired, the night slowed down. He slowly stopped barking orders at you and actually started to show you what to do. You would stand at the barre, him behind you, and his hands would adjust you slightly.

Finally, the session ended around 11pm. You never wanted to have to do that again, yet somehow you don’t think you’ll get a choice.

You collapsed on to your bed, almost too tired to turn your alarm on early so you could shower in the morning. Sweat could definitely wait for every muscle in your body to stop aching.

The stars shone through the curtain, wind softly touching them and causing a billow across your room. Had you been awake, you would’ve remarked how as a kid you would’ve thought it looked like a dancer’s skirt. It would have been a very creative and astute observation. But, you slept soundly, seeing neither the stars nor the bubbling curtains.

#bruno buccerati #risotto nero #reader insert #female reader #sfw #bruno bucciarati x reader #risotto nero x reader #jjba #jjba au #ballet au #pas de deux ao3 #my writing

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c-c-cherry · 4 years

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Bucci Gang Headcanons!!!

I’m not really one to usually post this kind of stuff, but these are some lil headcanons my pal @jjadegreen and I have come up with while stuck in the same house during the quarantine!!

These literally range from *probably would happen* to *fucking crack* so y’all have been warned...

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Giorno is one of those people that has a secret sweet-tooth. Like. An insane one where if he actually decides to indulge in it he cannot fucking stop.

When he does go overboard, it’s usually because Bruno got his favourite ice cream flavour from the store and it’s always at some ungodly hour of the night.

He usually blames it on Mista somehow. Accidentally ate the entire tub of ice cream at 3am? No biggie. Just put the spoon on Mista’s bedside table while he’s asleep!

Everyone blames Mista for it EVERY TIME and now he’s not allowed to eat any ice cream when they buy it. Mista thinks it’s the Sex Pistols because he swears he doesn’t remember doing it.

Giorno just sits there like *sweats* “yeah uh no it had to be Mista, right? There’s definitely no one else it could be, right? Right??”

One time Abbacchio caught him in the act at like 4am and they have yet to bring it up.

He would spill Giorno’s big secret, but he really likes to see Mista suffer.

Narancia wears skirts sometimes and it’s not a big deal. He vibes, they all just vibe. No toxic masculinity here.

Narancia is genuinely afraid of those “IF YOU DO NOT SEND TO 10 PEOPLE THIS WILL APPEAR AT THE END OF YOUR BED AT 3AM” emails.

One time he couldn’t do it because Bruno took his phone away and he sat in bed all night fucking trembling in fear of what chain mail monster would eat his face off this time.

Abbacchio hates geese. No one knows why. Not even Bruno.

Narancia’s real stand name IS Aerosmith, but he’s dead set on calling it Lil’ Bomber because “that’s his rapper name.”

Mista is lactose intolerant but he doesn’t know because he just thinks it’s normal to feel excruciating pain when you eat ice cream.

“Like how pineapples hurt your mouth when you eat them.” -Mista probably

Bruno literally had to take him to the hospital one night because he inhaled too much ice cream and would not stop throwing up and Mista was like “wait this doesn’t happen to you??”

Trish hates butterflies because *fun fact!* butterflies often feed on not only nectar and fruit, but DECAYING CORPSES of animals!

When she was a kid, she was walking in some alleyway and ran into a dead animal covered in butterflies. One landed on her arm and she fucking screamed. She will never look at them the same ever again...

Giorno loves to make things into butterflies when they all spend time together, and Trish literally has to suppress a shudder every time one goes near her.

Fugo is one of those people that is basically not afraid of anything, but when a fucking bee comes near him he will LOSE IT. He’s one of those people that will have to get up and run away from a bee when it flies near him.

If you tell him that it will leave him alone if he stops moving, he will punch you.

Giorno likes to make shit into bees sometimes just to fuck with him

Bruno does not like dogs. It probably stems from some childhood experience that went sour, but he does not care. He will be stone-faced during any mission or situation, but if a dog tries to jump up and greet him he will freak. The fuck. Out.

One time Narancia and Mista brought home a dog from the streets and mama Bruno was like “NOPE” and zipped himself out of existence.

Abbacchio found him locked in the closet under the stairs when he got home and made them get rid of it.

Leone was more of a cat person anyway.

Abbacchio eats raw pasta.

Fugo plays chess with himself. When Giorno joins the team he’s like “ugh finally an intellectual” but Giorno has literally never seen a fucking chess board in his life and is too scared to tell Fugo so he just keeps making up excuses as to why he doesn’t “have time” to play chess with him today.

Mista doesn’t shower but he has a BOMB-ass face-care routine. Even Trish is jealous. His face? Baby soft? Ten out of ten. The rest of him? Axe body spray out of ten.

Narancia went through a goth phase pre-canon. Abbacchio was not happy because Bruno kept referring to him as “little Abba” but he let Narancia use his good lipstick anyway.

Mista found his special hat in a street gutter on a rainy day and it matched his sweater so he decided to just keep it. Abbacchio does Trish’s makeup. They go to Sephora together. I don’t make the rules.

Giorno never really told anyone (besides Bruno) that he got his stand naturally so they all assume he got it from Polpo’s lighter and when he mentioned something off-hand about “when I was a kid Gold and I…” everyone’s just like “bitch hold up-”

Abbacchio wears coloured contacts and his ass literally cannot see without them.

Yes they are expensive as fuck. He blows half his pay-check on them every month.

One time he lost them right before a mission so he had to pull out his heavy prescription glasses from like 8th grade. They literally looked like this.

I think you can imagine the outcome

Growing up, Giorno only listened to three songs.

The only reason he had access to these songs was because he found a really old Walkman on the side of the road when he was wandering around once. The tape only had three songs on it; Dancing Queen, It's Raining Men, and some song by Mozart. These were the three songs of Giorno’s childhood.

He still has it and likes to listen to the tape when he gets sad

Narancia doesn’t know what a period is. Neither does Mista.

Bruno forces everyone into the living room after overhearing this and makes them all watch one of those really awkward sex-ed videos from the 90s (you know the ones)

It was one of the worst days of their lives

They still have the tape and Narancia sometimes slips it in the VHS player when they all least expect it just to fuck with everyone

Bruno once held a capo meeting at their house (biggest mistake of his life) and all you could heard blasting through the walls of the other room was “YoUr bOdy MiGht Be gOiNg tHrOuGh sOmE cHaNgEs, fOr eXaMpLe yOuR P-”

On that note, Giorno was definitely that one kid who took notes during Sex-Ed

Abbacchio listens to Avril Lavigne

Giorno shaves his arms. It kind of started by accident but now he literally cannot stop or else his arms will look completely fucked up

Bruno has sensitive teeth. He can’t drink water that’s too cold cause it hurts his mouth. Abbacchio makes him tea :)

Fugo plays piano to help him with his anger. He would say that he plays saxophone too, but it’s more like violently screeching into the mouthpiece instead of actually playing it.

Narancia thinks that lesbian is a nationality

Even though Giorno lived in Japan for just a couple years, he’s still pretty fluent in the language because his mother would only speak Japanese to him growing up

The gang has no idea that Giorno is Japanese and when a foreigner is struggling Giorno just swoops in with perfect Japanese and they’re all just really confused.

Giorno doesn’t cry during movies or TV shows, but he’s one of those people who fucking BAWLS during video game credits

Mista and Narancia beat Ocarina of Time together and Giorno was watching from the sidelines and AS SOON as the credits started rolling there were tears.

When KK Slider starts to sing in Animal Crossing New Horizons and your character is brought into a music void and the credits start rolling he tears up just a little bit

Mista is squeamish around dead bugs. Not live ones. Dead ones and solely dead ones

Mista and Trish go thrifting. Mista goes to check the pockets of clothes for spare cash (cause he’s a broke bitch) and Trish goes to buy clothes

Everyone thinks that Mista doesn’t change his clothes but he actually just buys like 7 of the same outfit

Mista sneezes like a white sports dad. You know the sneeze.

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Bonus Bruabba shit because Jade and I always go fucking HARD when talking about our local mafia dads:

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Bruno ties up the little strings on Abbacchio’s tiddy shirt every morning.

They got promise rings. Leone’s trying to find a nice time to actually propose but the gang keeps fucking it up every time they try to go on a nice date together

Bruno and Leone watch thunderstorms together

-The rest of the bucci gang stay inside and play monopoly or something when’s its stormy but these two bring out blankets and sit on the front porch and just be all soft and shit watching the lightning light up the sky and listening to the rain on the roof above them.

Bucciarati and Abbacchio have been mistaken as the following:

Bruno as a woman and Abbacchio as a man. Abbacchio as a woman and Bruno as a man. Two lesbians. But never an actual gay couple.

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Yeah so I have no idea what that was. These were taken from a google doc we have together that’s just all these jumbled, crack-filled headcanons just for fun. I’m sure you can sense the pure chaos in this.

Go give my dude @jjadegreen a hello, sis made most of these!

uhhh let us know if you want any more from any other parts. Cause y’all know we probably got some. <3

#jjba #jojo's bizarre adventure #headcanons #headcanon #crack #jojo's bizzare adventure golden wind #bucci gang #bruabba

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