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doctenwho · 4 years

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A Name For Kitty (NACP-pt2)

You asked, so you’ll recieve! I’ll be honest here though, I didn’t put a name on the cat in the first part because I had no clue what to name him-- picking names is definitely not my strong suit. So names I’ve put in this fic are from random naming site, names I stole from my friends cats and cats I know in real life.

If your cat is named one of the names in the fic, I mean no harm! They’re all cute names in their own way, I just needed to fill in the blanks!

Warning: None.

Word Count: 3,858

Summary: Check out the prompt!

(Not my gif, credit to the creator!)

“So,” you drew in the Doctor’s attention as you walked into the console room. As usual, the man’s eyes instantly fell from his control panel and landed on you for a brief second before he returned his attention. He was flying the TARDIS, so he really couldn’t take his attention away for too long.

“Yes?” he drawled, eyes back on the TARDIS controls. His tone was light, as it usually was whenever you’d surface from your room in the TARDIS.

“Kitty still needs a name,” you explained easily, flopping onto the seat in the console room. At hearing the nickname you’d stuck the cat with over the past few days, the cat let out a soft purr noise and hopped down from where he’d been sitting beside the Doctor on the console.

You smiled lightly as the cat jumped up on the chair beside you, and head butted your arm for attention, which you gladly gave him. The Doctor took a moment to pout at the loss of his friend beside him, but it didn’t last long, “a name? I thought you’d given him one?” The man glanced back at you, only to frown at your confused expression, “Kitty?”

“No,” you shook your head, “that’s just a nickname since he doesn’t have a name yet. He can’t be called kitty. That’s dumb. It’s like calling you Time-Lordy, or me humany. Besides the name Kitty for a cat is way overused, we should be more creative, don’t you think? He will be a space traveler too now.”

“Never call me Time-Lordy again,” the Doctor huffed, throwing a glare over his shoulder, “and while you’re at it, never call you, or any other human humany again.”

“Yeah, yeah,” you laughed, “it was just an example, they’re both dumb names no one would use to talk about us.”

“Uh huh,” the Doctor shook his head, “but I do see your point. So, what did you want to name him then? What will (Y/N)’s new feline companion be called?”

“He’s not just mine,” you frowned, petting the cat’s ears and listening to his calming purrs, “he’s both of ours. And it’s not fair that I’d get to name him. We should both agree on a name, and not you just agreeing because I like it. You’ve gotta like it too.”

“Really?” the Doctor perked up a little, “we’re both naming him? Like anything?”

“Well, yeah,” you smiled, “so long as we both agree. He does live here with the both of us. He already loves us both—he's definitely a joint cat. So, we’ll pick a name together.”

“I’ll need a bit to think about it,” the Doctor decided, turning his attention to you for just a second before he was back to controlling the TARDIS, “this is a lot of pressure. Any names you fancy currently?”

“Well,” you gave a small smile, “maybe Boots?”

“Boots?” the Doctor repeated with a raised eyebrow, “you want to name him Boots?”

“Yeah,” you frowned, “look at his little feet, they’re all white. He’s black, but all his feet are white. He’s almost wearing little boots.”

“Boots.” The Doctor repeated once more, trying the name out, “noh, I don’t like it.”

The man made a face like he’d bitten a lemon, “and isn’t that a bit like the name Kitty? Wouldn't that be like naming you shoes, or me fashionable coat based on what we were wearing?”

“Oh,” you huffed, “yeah, maybe... I guess so.”

“Besides,” the Doctor continued, “Boots doesn’t suit him. He’s a smart looking cat, he needs a smart name—something like... Pluto! Exemplary for a tiny space traveler, don’t you think?”

“No,” you laughed. The Doctor’s attention shot to you, eyebrows furrowed in offense, “you’re not naming our cat after a planet, Spaceman. Besides, Pluto isn’t even a planet anymore--”

“Pluto certainly is a planet,” the Doctor interrupted, crossing his arms across his chest, “I’ve been there. Definitely a planet, no matter what you humans like to think.”

“Fine, it’s not defined as a planet on earth anymore at least,” you relented, raising your hands in mock surrender, “anyways, we should think about his heritage on earth, right? He’s an earth cat, he should have an earth name—or maybe not something related directly to space.”

“Fine, fine,” the Doctor huffed, “not directly related, but I’ll still be looking for something that hints at space. He will be a space traveler, don’t forget. Earth heritage, but currently in space.”

“I won’t forget,” you laughed, scratching under the cat’s chin, which resulted in his purrs growing louder. The Doctor turned his attention back once more to smile fondly at the cat, “he’s our precious little space traveler.”

“Indeed he is. A fine little space traveler if I do say so myself,” the Doctor agreed, strutting towards the two of you to pet the cat’s head, pushing his ears back. “And I can say so.”

----

You sighed as you rested your back against the wall. Your hand was raised, cuffed to a bar that was slightly above you in the room-like cell you’d been put in. You were sitting on the floor, not really afraid, or put out by this hostage situation. You were inconvenienced if anything.

The Doctor hadn’t been the least bit nervous when the two of you had been cuffed and led along down separate hallways. This planet didn’t like the Doctor much apparently, so as soon as he’d been spotted both he, and you by default for accompanying him, had been taken into this planet’s custody.

You could only assume this hadn’t been a first, and that the Doctor had something planned to bust the two of you out, so all that you could do was wait.

So, you waited like the good little prisoner you were. You’d wait until an opportunity to escape arose, or until the Doctor opened the door to your little cell and sonic screwdriver-ed you from the cuffs.

You listened intently to everything happening on the other side of the door. Not a lot, but a couple bangs and a door closing drew in your attention. Then, it was silent once more.

“What do you think of the name Talis?”

You jumped in surprise at the voice. It carried through the walls, probably right on the other side of the wall you were leaning against. You didn’t want to admit how much that had scared you.

“Doctor?” you asked hesitantly, since you couldn’t really make out what the voce had said. It was more of a mumble. You’d gotten bits and pieces of it, but the majority was a muffle of sounds.

“(Y/N)?” The Doctor repeated, and even through the wall you could hear the sarcasm the man usually had—he was kidding around with you, “of course it’s me, this is like the most peaceful planet you’ll find. I doubt those living here even know war exists. We’re like the only being they’ve taken into custody in years—since... well, since my last visit here at least.”

“There’s no need to make fun of me when I’m held captive,” you rolled your eyes at him, but you were sure your voice was conveying the humor of the situation. “Now, what did you say before?”

“I asked you what you think of the name Talis?”

“Talis for what--” you paused, thought it over before your face scrunched up with astonishment mixed with irritation, “are you seriously suggesting cat names while we’re both held captive on this planet?”

“Well,” the Doctor paused, and you could almost imagine the impassive grin on his face, “well, that’s if you really consider us held captive. It’s very accommodating, wouldn’t you say?”

There was a moment’s pause before you heard his voice continue, “but yes, yes I am.”

You couldn’t really argue with that though—you were basically locked in a bedroom. There was even a small bathroom leading off from the side of the room. Compared to jail cells on earth, this was practically a hotel room. “I’m still cuffed to a bar,” you mumbled in reply.

“Right,” the Doctor’s voice continued, “well, you won’t be for much longer. I’ve straightened everything out; we’re just waiting for an okay to be released. All a misunderstanding. Now, what do you think of the name Talis for Kitty?”

“Why Talis?” you asked easily, stretching out as far as you could considering you were cuffed, before letting your head fall back against the wall.

“Well, it’s a common name on this side of the universe, this planet included. Kitty looks like a Talis, doesn’t he? It would suit him, I think.”

“Let me get this straight,” you turned to look back at the wall, knowing that you couldn’t actually see the Doctor. You liked to hope he got the sentiment of it anyways, even though he couldn’t see you either, “you wanna name our kitty after the people who imprisoned us at first glance?”

“To be fair, I did technically have a criminal record here,” you opened your mouth to question that, but the Doctor’s voice continued before you could, “and before you even ask, it was all a misunderstanding. They’re actually incredibly nice here.”

“We’re locked in cells, Doctor.” You reminded. “It doesn’t matter how friendly they are when we’re locked in rooms and cuffed to metal bars.”

“Right, fine,” the man sighed on the other side of the wall, “I’ll take that as a no then.”

“Keep thinking,” you relaxed back against the wall, “we’ll find a name for him sooner or later.”

----

As it turned out, cats went through food and litter remarkably fast. Only a week after getting the first bag of cat food, and a box of litter is seemed that you guys were out of it. So Kitty eats and poops a lot-- like every other cat on the planet.

It wasn’t that upsetting though, since you had an excuse to go in and look at cat toys and other play things, since Kitty had started sharpening his claws on the TARDIS furniture (which the time and space machine, and the alien owning it, were upset about).

He’d need a cat tree, and a scratching post if he was going to be spending all his time on the TARDIS. Plus, the cat had been playing with the Doctor’s shoelaces—while they were still on the Doctor’s feet—which included pulling them untied and then walking away leaving the Doctor to unknowingly trip over his laces.

As humorous as that was, you were afraid that the Time-Lord was going to break something, so Kitty really needed toys.

Besides, the Doctor didn’t even really mind going to the pet story for Kitty’s sake. Not since he’d gotten attached to the feline just days after meeting him.

The two of you had decided to leave kitty in the TARDIS, even though he technically could come into the pet shop with you. You didn’t want to stress him out though, and he was perfectly content just snoozing on the TARDIS console like he usually did.

Shopping for cat stuff was a lot more fun that shopping for things for yourself, and it was almost as fun as shopping at alien shops on different planets. The Doctor always seemed endlessly amused when looking around human shops down on earth.

Today though, as the two of you grabbed different cat items, you bickered back and forth. You’d still not made any progress on picking a name for the poor cat. Names you liked the Doctor did not, and names he picked out you weren’t fond of.

Who’d’ve thought that this would be so hard?

“Murphey’s a cute name,” you frowned, “it’s different, but it’s not that different.”

“It’s so weird,” the Doctor scrunched his nose us, “it... it’s just a weird name. I don’t even know what to say about it.”

“What,” you turned to look at the Doctor as you grabbed a bag of dry cat food, “Murphey’s weird but Garrus isn’t?”

“Garrus is a sophisticated name,” the Doctor snarked, “it’s way better than Murphey.”

“It is not,” you rolled your eyes, “I’ve never even heard of the name Garrus--”

“And I’ve never heard of Murphey!”

“Is there anything I can help the two of you with?” And employee asked, looking between the two of you awkwardly. It was only then that you noticed the two of you were bickering rather loudly. “Oh, uh no,” you said.

But at the same time as you the Doctor responded with a bold, “yes!”

“Okay,” the employee frowned, looking at you for a moment before glancing at the Doctor and asking a shy, “what can I help you with?”

“We’ve just rescued a cat,” you explained, to which the employee nodded thoughtfully. “He still needs a name. But we haven’t been able to agree on one.”

“I see,” the employee gave another nod, “what names are you guys going between?”

“We still aren’t sure, but the ones we’re thinking about right now are Murphey and--”

“Garrus,” the Doctor added quickly, looking at the employee expectantly. “Which one do you like more?”

The employee suddenly looked put on the spot, and you felt bad. They looked hurriedly between the two of you before finally speaking, “Garrus is... uhm, cute,” they said slowly. The Doctor turned to grin at you, but the employee continued speaking, “but I’d have to go with Murphey.”

“You earth people are all the same,” the Doctor scowled, which looked more like a pout. “Earth’s loss that they don’t have good names like Garrus.”

“Thank you,” you told the employee while ignoring the Doctor completely. The employee gave the Doctor a nervous glance before giving you a respectful nod and quickly moving away to assist another customer.

“You’re pouting,” you mumbled to the Doctor when the employee was gone.

“Am not,” the man pouted, tossing a catnip mouse into the basket you were holding, “earth people have no taste in good cat names.”

“Neither do aliens from Gallifrey,” you snorted. “We don’t have to name him Garrus or Murphey. Some name will come along that we’ll both like, right?”

“I’m not sure anymore,” the Doctor groaned, “we can’t agree on anything.”

----

“We’re not naming him Jax!” The Doctor groaned as the two of you ran. There were at least seven armed and armored guards after the two of you after you’d snuck into some building. You weren’t even sure what you were doing here, but the Doctor had led you along like he always did.

You really hadn’t meant to say the name out loud—not when the two of you were literally sneaking around. It had just... kinda come out. You hadn’t even whispered. It was like you had a hurrah moment of thinking of the name and needed to share it instantly without even taking a second to remember where you were.

Attention had been drawn to the two of you almost instantaneously. There’d been a sharp moment of silence while the guards looked amongst each other to see who’d said a random word, until their attention landed on you and the Doctor. And from there, the Doctor was ushering you along and the troops were running after you.

“Why not?” you whined as the Doctor snagged your hand and made a sharp turn down a hallway, dragging you along in tow.

“What kind of a name even is Jax?” the Doctor hissed, pulling you along, “we’ll talk more about that monstrosity in the TARDIS later.”

“Yeah, alright,” you laughed as he dragged you along.

----

You’d never liked when the TARDIS would randomly land on other people’s ships. It felt rude to you, and it was certainly weird when others found you and the Doctor on their ship. In space. Without docking anywhere or have teleportation.

The looks on people’s faces were hilarious.

But, of course, most people instantly thought the two of you were a threat—especially when you happened to land in human-earth space ships.

“Who the hell are you?” the captain of the spaceship (you assumed) demanded, pointing a gun at the Doctor. One of the crewmates was holding onto you, keeping your hands behind your back. “How the hell’d you get here?”

“I’m the Doctor,” the man introduced with his usual flare, “and this is my companion, (Y/N). Say hello, (Y/N).”

“Hi,” you huffed from where you were being held in place.

“How’d you get here?” the captain asked sternly, not looking satisfied with the Doctor’s answers in the slightest.

“In a spaceship, of course,” the Doctor shrugged, earning a scowl from the captain. You wanted to wince and remind the Doctor that hostile humans weren’t usually ones for jokes or sarcasm—especially when they had guns. “We are in space, aren’t we?”

“Let me rephrase,” the captain growl, “how’d you get in here.”

“We landed in one of your storage cupboards,” the Doctor continued on, frowning at the captain in apology, “and sorry ‘bout that, sometime you just can’t get the landing right.”

“You landed in our storage?”

“Yeah, accident. Sorry. We really didn’t mean to, but well, when you land, you’ve gotta explore. If you just let us go we can get back to my ship and we’ll leave.”

“You want us to let you go?” the captain raised an eyebrow, “after we caught you trespassing on a ship that’s orbiting space?”

“Uh, essentially, yes. We’d very much appreciate that--” the Doctor’s attention turned to you suddenly, “Cyprus?”

You instantly knew what he was talking about. It was a stupid name for the cat. He’d just blurted a name for your rescue cat while the two of you were actually in danger of being shot.

However, the others in the room did not know the Doctor was talking about your cat. They exchanged harsh glances before everyone tightened their stances as if the Doctor was about to lash out. You mouthed a very annunciated ‘no’ at the Doctor to which he pouted again, furrowing his eyebrows.

“What does that mean?” the captain snarled, “some kind of secret code? Tell us what it means.”

“It’s a cat name!” You panicked, seeing as the captain cocked the gun towards the Doctor’s head, “it’s a cat name, he wants to name our cat that! Don’t shoot him!”

“Really?” the captain grimaced, looking around the room at the crew’s matching disapproving expressions. The captain lowered the gun “that’s a stupid name for a cat.”

“Oh for the love of all things holy,” the Doctor huffed in irritation, “it’s a good name! You humans just have horrid taste in names!”

“Ignore him,” you huffed, “that’s honestly one of the better names he’s suggested.”

“Don’t let him name a cat Cyprus,” the captain frowned.

“Aye!” the Doctor scowled, glaring around the room—which included glaring at you.

“Oh, I won’t,” you promised with a sigh.

“Let her go,” the captain gave a dismissing wave of their hand and you were instantly let go. “Him too, I guess. Take your ship and leave, y’hear?”

“Loud and clear,” the Doctor pouted. “And I’ll name him Cyprus if I want.”

The Doctor turned on his heels and marched out of the room, leaving you to whisper a ‘no he won’t.’ just loud enough for the captain to hear before you were following behind the Doctor.

----

It was a quiet night in when the two of you finally agreed on a name for the little tuxedo cat you’d rescued from the streets.

The Doctor and you were sat in the chair in the console room side by side, arms pushed against each other as you squeezed on the chair together. The cat was sprawled against both your laps, head and front paws almost curled into the Doctor’s abdomen, while his bottom half and fluffy tail were spread along your lap.

He really was the cutest thing.

His purrs filled the room, soft and calming. It added nicely to the usual buzz of the TARDIS, which you’d gotten used to and barely even noticed now.

The Doctor had stabilized the TARDIS in space for the night, like he usually did unless he was on a planet he trusted (like earth).

It was that calm time before you’d head off to bed and the Doctor was do whatever it was that he did before going to bed. The cat usually followed you to bed and cuddled with you until you fell asleep, which was when he’d leave to join the Doctor wherever he was. You always woke up to the cat in your bed with you though, cuddled right into your side and purring happily in his sleep.

“What do you think about Calcifer?”

You opened your mouth to refute it—like you had for all the other of the Doctor’s strange suggestions, but you snapped you mouth closed before you said anything. It actually had a nice ring to it—unique but not way out of your world unique.

The Doctor turned his attention away from the cat to look over at you with a soft, fond look.

“Why Calcifer?” You asked quietly as you had before. You liked to hear his reasonings, to hear his thought process when suggesting a name—even if the name wasn’t very... normal?

“Well,” the man looked back at the cat, carefully dragging his fingers through the cat’s soft fur, biting his bottom lip, “it’s a bit of a fairytale from my home planet."

“What kind of fairytale?” you asked intrigued, leaning a bit into the Doctor.

“As the story goes, Calcifer was a falling star who fell to Gallifrey. He was caught before he could fall to the ground and extinguish. This falling star was very powerful and he offered the one to save him a deal... but, I can’t really remember the rest of it. I think Calcifer really suits kitty.”

“Calcifer,” you tested the name, “we could call him Cal for short.”

“Cal,” the Doctor repeats. “I like it.”

“I do to,” you agreed with a smile. “I told you we’d find a name we’d both like.”

“It’s perfect for a space traveler too,” the Doctor gave an affirming nod, “a fallen star.”

“And we can take him to the vets on earth without getting strange looks for his name.”

“Yeah, that too,” the Doctor gave a laugh.

With that, you looked down at the cat in the Doctor’s lap, “whaddya think kitty? You like the name Calcifer?” The cat gave a positive purr sound, which he was notorious for, before he stretched across the both of your laps and cupped his little paws around his own face as he stretched.

“He likes it,” the Doctor translated jokingly with a snort.

“Calcifer the cat.” You returned the laugh, smiling brightly at the Doctor.

“Perfect,” the Doctor gave a matching grin, “now all we have to do is put that on the front of his tag and he’ll be set. Glad we settled on a name finally, that was starting to get embarrassing.”

“It really was,” you groaned letting your head fall onto the Doctor’s shoulder. It was quiet for a second before you were laughing to yourself. “We’re never naming anything else. Cal’s it.”

“Agreed.”

<><><><>

Thanks once more for reading, and for the prompt! I love fulfilling people’s requests! Not sure if this was funny or boring or even what you were looking for, but I tried! Feel free to prompt me again if it’s not what you wanted!

Just as a bit of backstory this whole cat in general is based off my baby boy Murphey-- which I was going to make the endgame name until I thought of Calcifer. I needed something in between alien and also kinda earth sounding. Shout out to those who know Howl’s Moving Castle (even though I switched it up a bit) and get the name reference :D

#10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #tardis #tenth doctor #tenth doctor x you #tenth doctor x reader #TARDIS

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buccigang-headcanons · 3 years

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La Squadra Backstories!!!! Stream of consciousnesss style!

So literally I just sat down and wrote down exactly what I thought. I have not edited these at all lmaooo. But I made long drawn out backstories for our underrated assassins so enjoy!!

T/W + C/W - idk I talk about people dying in a lot of ways. Child abuse, drugs, severe illness, dead cats. This stuff is a mess I really didn’t censor it. But nothing is described in detail cuz I’m too lazy for that.

————

Prosciutto cuz he’s at the top of my mind. Mmkay he and Pesci are brothers but not by blood. Pro was an orphan, I still wanna make him Russian, and pesci’s extremely kind and gentle family adopted him when he was like 7. They were like literally a garden catalogue family. Perfection. The parents died when pro was like 15, Pesci was 13?? Idk the age difference I’m just making shit up now. And Pesci had no fucking idea what to do, they didn’t have any other family, and pro was like “I’m still basically a hardened criminal from living on the streets of russia most of my childhood, so joining the local mafia should be a piece of cake”. It was.

Risotto..... fuck it. Polpo is risottos dad. I’ve seen that so much and fuck it I’m here for it now. Idk how I feel about the whole Mariah from part 3 being his mom that seems too coincidental. But either way, he is half Spanish. I don’t think he’s ever been in touch with his Spanish roots at all, but that’s what he is. Polpo had too much fun on vacay in Spain. But it was a once night stand and polpo, a skinny king back in the mid 70s, fucked off to do mafia stuff and didn’t know about this kid. Risotto never knew his father. Time goes by, about the time he’s 10, rizzo’s mom moves to Italy to find the man she once loved. Since the 70s, she has been married and divorced 4 times, disowned by her entire family, and she speaks only of Polpo, the man who swept her off her feet and then disappeared into the night. Leaving only this child with his matching eyes. So they live in Italy, risotto is about 13 now and his mom has been searching seriously for polpo for about 3 years. One day, she gets too close, mafia takes her out. Risotto is all alone in a country he has lived in for less than 3 years. So he decides to take revenge against the mafia. He goes to hunt them down. (I’m too lazy to write out how. Gets a gun. Basically the scene in part 5 where the kid is like “you killed my father and now I’m gonna kill you!!” But he chickens out???) yeah except rizzo didn’t chicken out, he stood firm and killed 2 of them. The other 2 surrendered, and immediately asked rizzo to take polpos test. He did. And he unknowingly met his father, the man his mother had died looking for. He stared into his fathers eyes, black sclera reflecting each other, and passed his test with ease.

Wowwwwwwwww alrighty then that was something. Let’s shake out those jitters because fuck that was intense and let’s move onto some happy shit.

Melone!! Always a bottle of joy. He was a phenomenal student, a perfect child. Perfect grades, perfect attitude, perfect looks. Onlyyyy tiny thing is he murdered cats and buried their heads in the back yard. But that was his only flaw. Aaaaaaaand mayyybe trying to use his extensive knowledge of molecular biology and genetics (even at as young as 11) to asexually breed said cats.

But, apart from that, absolutely perfect specimen of a young boy. And he kept that up until college. Until the rape accusation. Melone had no interest in having sex with her, he swore under oath in open court, he only wanted to “extract her essence” in the hopes of making her amazing genetics stay pure for centuries.

Due to his previously amazing school record, he was allowed to plead not guilty by reason of insanity (because the justice system is bullshit) and was released to his parents. During this whole process, Melone’s mother had begun to grow suspicious of her son, wondering if there was something wrong with him. This led her to explore the crawl space under the garage, more commonly known as “Melone’s childhood laboratory”. The cat skulls alone were enough to set her off. They allowed him into their home long enough to fool the court, but parole officers don’t pay attention, and they kicked him to the curb a month later. Broke, alone, and with no real skills other than his genius mind and gorgeous body, he became a prostitute. It was only a few months before he wandered up to a gigantic white haired man with angry eyes and asked if he wanted a date. Instead of declining, our good ol rizzo just knocked him out cold and brought him home. The rest is history. Literally because I can’t think of what would happen between that and Melone joining the mafia. I assume he was just their house pet for a little while before he decided he wanted a stand too.

Oh good lord these are getting insane. Better keep going. Okay I have no idea what’s about to come out of my head for ghia but oh Lordy. Might as well start. Ghiaccio wasn’t always quite as angry, but it’s actually gonna be a sweet story. Kinda. He used to act perfect, even tho he always felt the anger inside. He was forced to bottle it up and put on a happy exterior always. His mother was Belgian. (From experience, Belgian mothers (Flemish in particular) will beat you until your ass is raw if you talk back). Italian father, they lived in italy. He had 4 sisters, he was the middle child of 5. Around high school, he started acting out. Of course this was due to all of his bottled up anger from the past 15 years. 4 shattered sinks, 16 holes in the drywall, and one classroom fire later, Ghiaccio was expelled from school. His parents were too busy brimming with joy about the success of all his sisters that they didn’t take much notice to him. “If you’re going to behave in such a manner you might as well leave” his mother said. She was past the point of caring enough to beat him. So he left. 16 and with no where to go, he wandered the streets. After a year or so, Ghia had gotten used to that life, and was angry at everyone, sometimes when he wasn’t even angry. Anger had become his coping mechanism. Screaming was easier than talking. Until one day, he screamed at a blonde man in an intersection. Prosciutto was driving back to the squads hang out, boxes of takeout in the back seat of the car. He had chosen to not stop at the red light, just for fun, and nearly ran into our blue haired teenager. Ghia proceeded to cuss him out for a good 4 minutes in the middle of this intersection before pro cut him off. “Get in the back. “ he said, with his own special brand of brotherly love. “I know how you can put that anger to good use”. Ghiaccio, having no real reason to object, got in the back seat. Prosciutto was silent the rest of the drive and Ghiaccio yelled about all the take out food, now splattered on the backs of the seats due to the sudden slam on the brakes.

Y’all I don’t even remember the other la squadra members. Let’s do sorbet/gelato because they have zero backstory or personality so I can just ramble. *Clears throat* let’s begin. These fuckers. Friends since birth. Grew up together, always really close. They were both dirt poor, but because the only school nearby was a decent public school, when were able to slightly experience middle class living. They liked it. They wanted to see upper class, and once they did, they wanted to be there. These two were money grubbing bffs, I’m talking josuke and okuyasu, but like waaaaay more intense and also violent. They both left home around 14, together of course. Gelatos father had left them a few years prior, and his family were on the brink of starvation. Figuring they didn’t need another mouth to feed (and completely abandoning his post as family patriarch lol) he left with sorbet, who’s family had all died in various ways over the years. Most recently, his older sister being taken by some illness that was probably easily treatable, but with no means for a doctor, she died in days. The boys left home and school, and made a living by pickpocketing tourists and occasionally launching into larger heists. They made a decent living for themselves, but eventually started spending their money on drugs. It’s was sorbet first, heroin was really good to him for awhile. Gelato was against it, knowing it was the reason sorbets family had been so poor to begin with. His father was an addict, and despite holding down a job fairly well, spent all his earnings on drugs. Eventually he became too dependent, lost his job, and OD’d. But around this same time, when the boys were 16/17, they were starting to realize their feelings for each other. Confused teenaged minds full of budding love led to Gelato giving in, and soon their days were filled with heroin fueled ecstatic sex. They lived like this for awhile, existing in half reality, until one day they chose to set their pickpocketing targets on a short man with close cropped gray hair. The plan was perfect, sorbet bumped into the man and gelato passed by to grab his wallet, and suddenly they were the size of mere ants. In an instant, they were returned to size, left to wonder if it was real or just a hallucination from long term drug use. But they didn’t run. Formaggio introduced himself, with a loose handshake and a pause to spit out some tobacco, and promptly invited them to a “party”. Although, Formaggio was honest in his promise, this party did have drugs.

Cheese boys turn!! Seriously who am I forgetting??? Illuso my mirror man! Am I forgetting someone else too?? Idk. But shut up Kel it’s cheese boys turn.

So. Formaggio. Probably the most chill childhood. Lower middle class, pretty average, but he was quite gifted with sports. Soccer was his main, and also a fantastic competitive swimmer. (Okay I have a separate hc that Bruno is really good at soccer so hol horse up a moment so I can imagine those 2 playing soccer together in friendly competition. In my lil au where Bruno is in la squadra because I say BruPro exes rights please and thanks.) but anyway, he got really good at soccer and was offered a scholarship to play at a fancy pants private high school when he was 14. Of course his parents made him go, this has been the family’s dream for years, and formaggio’s as well. So high school is amazing, he’s starting to attract attention from universities even tho he’s barely in grade 11 by this point. And it’s all really amazing until he realizes. This isn’t what he wants. And it’s just that. He doesn’t want to play soccer anymore, he doesn’t want to potentially be famous. He just wants to be a kid. So he leaves school, he leaves home, he wants to start over. And he wanders into a diner and sees this small group of weirdly dressed men. At this point, it’s rizzo, pro, Pesci, and ghia. And he’s staring at them because they’re dressed like circus clowns but their aura is so murderous. And then the one who looks like a giant pineapple starts staring back. Pesci gets up and walks over to Formaggio. “I know you! You’re that amazing kid soccer player!!” And he just goes on and on about shit he read in the news (70% of it was false) until pro comes over and yanks his idiot brother away. Pro starts asking Formaggio questions, thinking he could be a good target. Stupid little rich kid. But to prosciuttos surpise, Formaggio is just a down to earth kid with no more money to his name than he needs to pay for this meal. Prosciutto takes him home after that. He doesn’t really offer any explanation.

(The rambling at the beginning of this paragraph actually happened lol so I paused for like 4 hrs oops)

Alright we are back. Had to leave to go to therapy and then scream at my mother and cry to my boyfriend but we are ready to go! Illuso and I really hope he’s the last one and I’m not forgetting one. Illuso was raised in an orphanage from infancy. No idea who his parents could even be. Fun fact: one of the nuns at the orphanage (cuz it’s an orphanage in Italy in 1980, they’re catholic.) nicknamed him Illuso because he was always pointing at things that weren’t there. As a tiny baby and a child, he would always be looking at things no one else can see (yes illuso is a natural stand user fight me). The nuns called him illuso as an insult, hoping to shame him into stopping. He never did. When he outgrew the orphanage, he decided to join the priesthood. He was 19, a priest in training, when the mafia came to the orphanage. They were collecting, and illuso knew they didn’t have the money this month. He tried to talk the mobsters down, but that went about as well as planned. 4 bullets to the chest, 3 open heart surgeries, and half a dozen resuscitations later, Illuso was released from the hospital. The orphanage had been shut down, and no one knew what had happened to the children or the nuns. With no where to go, illuso knew of one place that could use talents like his. The talents of steadily stealing money from the starving children of the church for a decade. It was during polpos test that illuso’s stand manifested. Not due to the arrow, but to protect its user from the other stand. Illuso was able to avoid Black Sabbath by hiding in his newfound mirror world until it was time to return the lighter to polpo (kinda cowardly but whatever.) he was assigned to risottos group by chance and was the last to join excluding Melone. But they loved him as if they had found him themselves.

#jojo's bizarre adventure #vento aureo #golden wind #la squadra #Melone #ghiaccio #Formaggio #illuso #sorbet #gelato #risotto Nero #prosciutto #Pesci #jojo part 5 #jjba

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miracle-in-the-eye-of-the-storm · 4 years

Text

“You Killed Me”

@angelofthequeers

“Does Ladybug know you’re here?” Papillon’s voice is carefully nonchalant. “Or that fossil of yours, pretending to be a hero?” Ragdoll drops into the seat across from him with a grunt. It lounges, eyeing Papillon with undisguised, amused contempt. “Does your son?” His business-shark smile drops into a dark scowl. “Yeah. The only two parties privy to this meeting are you and me ― unless you have your little sidekick skulking around somewhere?” Ragdoll casts its gaze about, as if the peahen will peek out from behind the rows of potted flowers, and casually pops one of the pristine pastries laid out on the table in its mouth. Good lordy, that’s sweet. (Of course the “neutral ground” Papillon chose is a fancy-ass restaurant. Kotii knew they were right about whoever it is under the mask being a rich asshole. Of course, he could have just chosen at random, but considering the emptiness of the place and the server hovering off to the side with a calm expression, Kotii’s non-existent money is on a hefty bribe instead of a threat. Hefty bribes are usually hard to come by unless you’re a rich asshole. Ah, does Kotii love being right. Kotii does not, however, love whoever designed this place. Geez, it’s almost like they were hoping for some magically powered, moth-themed super villain to reserve the place as a meeting ground. The tiles are checkerboard purple and blue, the walls are painted in metallic grey and black diamonds, and the plants are all various shades of blue, purple, red, and white. They like that the lights don’t /quite/ cover their side of the table, though. Atmosphere is important. And at least the tables themselves are all black and pale blue. Kotii kind of wants to steal one of the chairs; black and plaid? It’s two of their favorite things combined, how could they not want one? Mr. Flutterbutt can have the rest of the place, they don’t care.) It barks out a delighted laugh when the peahen does, in fact, step out from behind the pot of roses closest to the door, like she was waiting for her cue. “I was kidding,” it says, lips peeled back in a feral grin. “Mayura,” Papillon says, steadfastly ignoring Ragdoll. “That will be all, thank you.” The peahen eyes Ragdoll warily ― who does its best not to mockingly echo Flutterbutt, smiles brightly, and wiggles its fingers at her in greeting ― but bows to Papillon silently and leaves. Unfortunately, she doesn’t let go of her transformation while she’s still in sight or earshot. This would be one of the few days one of the idiot Miraculous holders actually uses the single brain cell between them. (Oh well; the both of them’ve lost that braincell plenty of times in the past, and Mayura just used it ― not like Mr. Flutterbutt over here is going to be able to grow a new one by the time this meeting is over.) While Ragdoll and Papillon are waiting for Mayura to be completely out of the picture, they sit in silence. Ragdoll isn’t sure when the waiter ― server, whatever ― left, but he did at some point. He’s probably hanging around in the background somewhere. Ragdoll is just about to wonder if it can get up to look for him when Papillon breaks the silence. “Unless you’re here to offer your Miraculous to me, I think we have nothing more to discuss.” Ragdoll snorts ― nothing more? Dude, the only other thing discussed was who knows who’s where; what happened to it “learning the proper respect”? ― and extends its hands. The ring is hidden, of course, under the fabric of Ragdoll’s gloves, and by the three other rings on that hand as well as the two on the other. “Try it.” Its eyes glitter. “Go ahead; I dare you.” A long, tense moment drags out. It can see the gears turning above his head, something crazed starting to light his eyes. He doesn’t try. Ragdoll reclines back in the chair ― and man, it is really comfy, actually ― with a sigh. “Wimp.” One of Flutterbutt’s hands curls into a loose fist. “Well, back to business ― I really only accepted your ever-so-gracious invitation for a chat because I have a question for you.” It stills suddenly, looks at him. In the shadows thrown over its chair, its eyes glow softly. “Why are you Papillon?” He blinks. “What?” “Why are you Papillon?” Ragdoll asks again. “It’s a simple question, old man. I just wanna know what motivates you to terrorize Paris on a weekly basis.” It tilts its head. “Hmm. Maybe a better question would be ― what do you want to wish for?” He leans forward eagerly. “So the wish will work?” It gives him a look of disgust. You did all this without actually knowing if it would work or not? It wants to ask. It doesn’t. “I asked first, buddy.” He sits back, suddenly, almost a business man again. The manic light in his eyes has dimmed, but it’s definitely still there. “Of course,” he says politely. “I think you’ll agree that my motives are a bit more noble than the common criminal, once you’ve heard them.” The only thing Ragdoll does to betray its spike of incredulity is a raised eyebrow. He continues when it’s clear Ragdoll isn’t going to say anything in response. “Three years ago, my wife and I came across a pair of animal-themed jewelry in Tibet. I thought they were fakes, given the shady booth-runner trying to sell them, but my wife’s always had an eye for that sort of thing, and she was convinced they were real gems. And she so loved birds ― she just had to have the pin, and they came as a set. So we bought them. “At the time, we believed them to be just that ― a brooch and a pin. So you can imagine our surprise when as soon as she put the pin on, a small creature emerged from it!” He laughs a little, lost in the memory. Then his face darkens. “Of course, how were we to know that the Miraculous was damaged?” His eyes glaze over and his voice gets quieter. “How could we have known, when he didn’t even know himself?” “Your wife was effected by whatever damage was done to the Peacock Miraculous,” Ragdoll guesses bluntly. He nods, gaze still distant. “I was . . . out of sorts, for quite a long while. I couldn’t bring myself to try the Miraculous on, either one of them.” The manic light, almost entirely faded away at this point, comes back full force. “But then, when I finally had the strength to try, the moth Kwami told me of the Wish, the absolute power, granted to whoever wields both the Black Cat and the Ladybug Miraculous.” He eyes Ragdoll’s hands hungrily, though clearly frustrated that he doesn’t know which ring it is, or which hand it’s on. “With that Wish, I could bring my wife back,” he murmurs, almost hypnotic in his cadence. “With that Wish, my son would have his mother back. My family would finally be whole again. If I could just . . .” He starts reaching out, fingers twitching minutely. “Uh huh,” Ragdoll says, raising an eyebrow again and crossing its arms. Papillon blinks, whatever spell he’d put himself under broken. “Cool motive, still murder.” He scowls again. “I haven’t killed anyone.” Ragdoll laughs in his face. “Oh, honey,” it says with mock sympathy. “Something tells me you actually believe that.” “And what is that supposed to mean?” Papillon asks sharply. Ragdoll’s smile, devoid of any humor in the first place, slips into something dangerous. “Don’t tell me you don’t remember dear Syren.” The scowl stays fixed on his face. “No? Then surely Gigantitan? Gorizilla? Frozer, even?” “What,” he bites out, “are you talking about.” It makes its smile wider. “My dear Papillon, at this point you’re being deliberately obtuse. I know you can figure out what happens when an upset person of giant proportions rampages through the city. You would have seen the damage through both pairs of eyes. And it was a lovely day before everything went frigid; people like to swim on lovely days in the summer.” It watches him for a long moment. His face is rapidly paling. “And when the entire city was flooded . . . well. “Do you know what it’s like to drown, Papillon?” He pales further. “No,” he whispers. “Yes,” Ragdoll snaps. He flinches at the sudden rise in volume. “It hurts. At first, you think maybe it won’t be so bad; you’ve been out of breath before, and neither of the heroes would let this go on long enough for it to feel any worse than that. But then it keeps going. It keeps going, and your throat starts to burn, and your chest feels like one good poke, one good shove, one good push will burst it wide open. So you let go of all that air you’re holding onto, in the hopes that that will somehow make it better. Except now ― well, now you’re just as stuck as you were before, your foot trapped in that stupid crack in the sidewalk. No more air left in your lungs, and no way to get more air into them. Your brain doesn’t really know that, though. At that point, your brain is just desperate to get one last good lungful of oxygen, so instinct takes over and you try to breathe.” It inhales, as if to demonstrate. “Of course it doesn’t work. The only thing that fills your mouth is that cold, brackish, uncaring water. And when the black starts crawling in at the edges of your vision, you don’t even have enough energy left to feel relief. You just let it happen.” It snorts. “As much as you can let anything happen at that point, anyway.” “That,” Papillon whispers, then shakes his head. Ragdoll ― Kotii ― is amused, for a moment, how a teenager is the one unsettling the adult instead of the other way around. “That wasn’t my fault,” he says, stronger. “I’m not the one who flooded the city.” “Oh, so there’s some other guy out there who can turn people into fuckin’ mermaids?” It laughs ― snarls ― at him. “Sure.” “It was not my fault,” he insists, eyes flashing. “I only want my wife back! All these Akumas are merely a means to an end, and once my Emilie is returned to me―” Ragdoll lunges across the table and yanks him closer by the collar, bringing his face very close to its open, snarling mouth. Its teeth sharpen, get longer, its ears pin themselves flat against its head, and its eyes glow neon blue. They hover there for a long moment, the only sound Ragdoll’s growling. Then it takes a deep breath, forcefully calming itself down, and lets go of him. “How about this,” it says, voice bright with menacing cheer. “Why don’t I use a metaphor? Everyone likes metaphors, especially pretentious assholes like you.” Papillon, massaging his throat, glares but doesn’t say anything. Ragdoll smiles, baring its still-too-sharp teeth. “Yeah. So, let’s say, in this hypothetical scenario, that the Akumas are a bunch of people looking for guns. Shot guns, hunting rifles, pistols, whatever. Any gun will do for what they have in mind, which is either revenge or causing as much damage as possible. Thing is, all the legal gun stores aren’t selling the right sorts of guns, or the guns they do sell aren’t working right. That leaves the illegal route. Which in this case, is you.” “I am not an illegal gun seller―” Papillon starts to protest. “I’m not done,” Ragdoll says, glaring at him. He presses his lips together, obviously displeased, but quiets down again anyway. Ragdoll spreads its hands. “Right. They all flock to you, because your shit’s actually working. So.” It leans forward, eyes glowing again. “You might not have been the one to pull the trigger when I died, but you’re damn well responsible for the gun. Deny it all you want, Mr. Agreste, but I died because of you. “You killed me.”

#miraculous ladybug #miloe writes #CW: death mention #CW: drowning mention #yeah so i'm just tagging a bunch of content warnings in case #and YES i am AWARE there are other things i need to finish writing #. . . . but you get this first #also! in case the pronoun changes are confusing #kotii is 'they/them' and ragdoll is 'it/its'

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