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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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redditnosleep · 6 years

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The Lake In The Woods

by coffinstuffer

This is a story about my sisters. Juniper and Marigold. June and Mary. Twins born on the first day of September. Two and a half years older than me.

We lived in rural Wisconsin. Our father was a long haul trucker and our mother waited tables at the Denny’s. Mary, June and I were great explorers, charting the woods behind our modest home with construction paper and dulled crayons. We spent most of our time playing outside, sun, rain or snow.

There was safety in numbers. We were always back in time for dinner. In retrospect, I’m not even certain our mother knew just how far from home we strayed.

This is a story about a lake we found, a couple of miles into the wilderness. It was a Saturday in early February. We were bundled up in puffy jackets and snow pants. When we first came across the clearing, it was striking. The most beautiful thing my young eyes had ever seen.

Crisp white snow, sprawling flat as far as the eye could see. There wasn’t so much as a twig or a paw print to interrupt the pristine blanket of powder.

It was Mary who realized there was water beneath. She pointed out the reed stalks that speckled the perimeter. Even approached what must have been the edge, crouched down and brushed away the snow to reveal ice. She was always very science minded. Even with her mere twelve years of experience on the planet, she was one of the smartest people I knew.

So of course, she was the first to ask why we’d never seen this lake before. In all our years of wandering, we must have come this way at least a dozen times. I had no answers. I simply shrugged and pulled my hat down tighter around my ears to stave off the cold.

June was silent. Staring out into the vast expanse of white.

Other people had trouble telling my sisters apart, but I never did. They had the same wavy chestnut hair, grey eyes, and angular jaws. They had the bones of birds, thin and fragile. But June was softer. Quieter. She had more freckles sprinkled across her cheeks. Mary questioned and June listened. That was the way it had always been.

“Do you hear that?” She almost whispered, gaze glued to the horizon.

“What?” I asked, somehow feeling I should be just as quiet.

“The crying… someone is crying.”

“Junie, what are you talking about?” Mary straightened up, dusting the snow off her gloves.

June raised a finger to her lips, requesting silence.

I didn’t hear anything. No birds. No rustling trees. I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced a deeper or more unsettling quiet.

If there’s one skill Mary never quite developed, it was keeping her mouth shut. It only added to the gravity of the situation when her eyes widened in sudden comprehension and a full minute passed before she said anything.

“Where is it coming from?” She wheeled around, staring at the frozen lake, just like June was.

June took a few steps closer to the edge of the lake. There was an odd look in her eye. One I’ve never seen before or since. She looked empty. Like an upright shell with nothing inside it. Her face was devoid of any expression.

Mary, on the other hand, was growing more agitated by the moment.

“We have to look for help!” She blubbered. “There–was a hunting cabin a little ways back, wasn’t there? The Darby boys have a hut out here–we’ll go get them.”

June didn’t give any indication of agreement or dissent. Mary grabbed my shoulder and squeezed it.

“Ryan. You and June stay put. Stay right here and I’ll be back.”

I nodded, confused, more than a little afraid. I still didn’t hear anything. I accepted it all. Because the prospect of both my sisters going insane at the same time seemed less plausible than my just not being able to pick up on what they were hearing.

Mary bounded off, leaving boot-prints in the snow. I watched her run until she disappeared between the trees. When I turned around, June was already a few feet out onto the lake.

I called to her, asking what she was doing. No response.

I yelled that it could be dangerous and that she should turn around. She ignored me.

I started crying. At first they were crocodile tears. The kind a little brother can usually muster when he’s trying to get pity or attention from his older sisters. But it turned all too real when the resounding crack echoed through the air. June sunk below the ice instantly.

My cowardice is probably the thing that saved me. I was paralyzed. Shocked and terrified. There was a gaping hole where my sister had been. No matter how much I wanted to move, to run to her, to save her, I couldn’t do it. I just stood there as the seconds ticked by into minutes and she was surely dead.

Time is a funny thing to pin down. I couldn’t honestly tell you how long it was before Mary showed up, with two of the Darby boys in tow, and I tearfully choked out what had happened.

The Darby boys looked at me in utter bewilderment. Mary frowned with concern.

“Ry… June is right over there.”.

Mary pointed. I turned to look. There was no hole in the ice. June was standing a ways off, next to the edge of the pond, still staring at some undefined point in the distance.

Apparently, whatever sound Mary heard had stopped. The Darby boys rolled their eyes and grumbled about what wild imagainations my sisters had. But they walked us back towards a more clearly marked trail, and said we shouldn’t wander off so far.

June didn’t say a word the whole walk home. The hairs on the back of my neck kept prickling, like someone was staring at me. But any time I glanced over, June was looking straight ahead.

Maybe I imagined it. But I could have sworn there were droplets of water clinging to her eyelashes.

This is a story about how my sister started to change.

I was still a little young to understand the finer points of puberty. But June’s came early. We were sitting on the couch together when she bled through her soft, pink sweatpants.

She didn’t stand up right away. In fact, she probably noticed long before I did.

“Huh. Guess I’m a woman now. Fucking fantastic.”

She started shaving her legs and wearing tighter clothes. She’d put on makeup in the girl’s bathroom at school. She used to have lunch with Mary and I. But with the change in appearance, people started to notice her. It wasn’t long before she sat at the same table as the girls who had money. The girls who lived in big houses, and carried around real leather purses, and drank pilfered strawberry vodka when they had sleepovers. It wasn’t long before June started talking to boys and twirling locks of hair around her index finger as she giggled at jokes that weren’t funny.

June used to come into my room late at night and sit on the edge of the bed.

Sometimes she’d talk to me. Sometimes she would just stare. Either way it seemed threatening in a manner that was hard to place. I would pretend to be asleep if it was late enough. But we both knew I wasn’t.

Sometimes I would cry.

“You watched me die, Ryan.” She would say, in that soft, eerie calm voice. “You didn’t even try to save me.”

“I’m sorry.” Pressing my face into the pillow didn’t hide the tears. But I didn’t know what else to do.

“You don’t love me.”

“I do, June. I’m sorry. I–I was scared–”

“You have no idea what it’s like to drown. All that stuff about it being peaceful is bullshit. It hurts, Ryan. It feels like barbed wire wrapping around your lungs. It’s like being trapped in a tiny box, that keeps getting smaller and smaller until you’re completely crushed.”

She would lean down to whisper right in my ear. Her hand on the back of my neck, squeezing just a little too hard, was icy as the first snow.

During the day, she’d carry around those little chemical hand warmers that skiers put in their gloves. But she wanted me to feel the cold, because it was my fault.

“Say you love me, Ryan.”

“I–I love you, June.”

“Good boy.”

Frank Darby went missing. I was probably the last person to see him alive. Or well, the second to last.

I saw him climbing out of June’s bedroom window a little after sunset, while I was raking leaves. It wasn’t a secret what they’d been doing. I’d gone outside because I could hear the slick sounds and creaking mattress springs through the thin walls.

June climbed out after him, smiling much too wide. Her hair was messy, and her face was flushed. The two of them got into the branches of the tall maple tree that grew beside our house, and shimmied down it.

They walked towards the woods, holding hands.

Just as they were about to disappear into the trees, June looked over her shoulder and winked at me.

The park rangers found Frank about a week later. I didn’t see the body, only heard stories. It’s hard to say what was embellished and warped in the game of telephone that spread through town. But the most common details are that Frank’s throat was ripped out, and his ribs had been cracked open. Whatever killed him took his heart.

My mother fell ill. Stage three breast cancer. I was twelve. June and Mary had recently turned fifteen.

Mary cried a lot. June spent most of her time at the hospital, stroking mom’s hair and feeding her soup.

Sometimes I wonder if her hands were cold. I wonder what my mother thought about that in the fading twilight.

Mom died in the middle of the night in early spring. June was the only one in the room with her.

Joe Darby met a similar fate to his older brother, for a slightly different reason.

Joe asked Mary to the homecoming dance.

At that point, Mary was wearing glasses. We didn’t have much money, so her dress was from the thrift store—several decades out of fashion.

She and Joe swayed back and forth at arm’s length. Smiling awkwardly. Or that’s how I imagine it happened. I wasn’t there.

I was there for the shouting match in our backyard. When June called Mary a cunt and they pulled each other’s hair and fingernails broke skin as they tumbled on the ground together.

Joe went missing shortly after that. Mary spent a lot of time searching the woods for him. After June apologized, they went together. They disappeared into the trees, holding hands, and a pile of bricks settled at the pit of my stomach.

Mary came back with damp hair and stopped wearing her glasses.

A few days later, the police found the shredded remains of Joe Darby. Once again, missing his heart.

This is a story about a lake in the middle of the woods, and how my sisters tried to drown me in it.

It was a foggy winter morning. My sisters kept throwing each other meaningful looks across the breakfast table, communicating in that way twins will. Having a conversation I could never hope to understand.

I was fourteen, and afraid of them both. When they asked if I wanted to go on a hike, I said no. They didn’t insist. They didn’t have to. Mary had made breakfast. The sleeping pills were already in my system.

When the drowsiness hit, I tried to make myself throw up, but it was too late.

They put me on a sled and dragged me out into the forest. I was unconscious for most of it. Just little flashes of trees and sky.

They waited for me to wake up. They were standing over me, completely naked, smiling wider than a human mouth should be able to stretch. They didn’t seem uncomfortable, despite the frigid wind whipping through their hair, and the snow between their bare toes.

“Can you hear it yet, Ryan?” June laughed.

“I’m sure you will soon. You’ll join them. All of them, at the bottom of the lake.”

“Screaming for help.”

“Begging for mercy.”

“It’s a little pathetic, really.”

I wanted to believe I was dreaming. But I knew I wasn’t. In a dream, my sisters would have shifted into something monstrous. Their hands would have become talons. Their teeth would have morphed into fangs around a forked tongue. But they looked the same as they ever had. Identical except for the freckles.

They each grabbed one of my arms and lifted me to my feet with a surprising strength. They stepped in tandem, slowly towards the edge of the lake in a grim procession. I was the star of it all.

My survival instincts must have kicked in about halfway to the ice. I began to struggle and scream, sure that nobody was listening. What is there to do when faced with imminent death but shriek at the heavens for mercy?

As I screamed, there was a swelling chorus of tortured cries. It sounded as if the ground hand opened up beneath me to unleash the anguish of the damned. The deafening noise echoed all around us. Centering on the lake. The lake that was no longer frozen over, but frothing and steaming like the surface of a cauldron.

My sisters held my shoulders firmly and lowered me into the water. Feet first. It was blistering. Painful beyond the point where I could distinguish heat or cold. It burned. That was all I knew.

Perhaps it’s poetic that a Darby saved me.

Perhaps it was divine intervention.

I tend to think it was nothing but dumb luck. It’s hard for me to believe in God anymore. Or at least, I can’t believe in a God that is fair and merciful. The only thing I know for sure is that evil exists. Something dark and twisted claimed both of my sisters, and will never give them back.

But a gunshot rang through the air, just when the water was lapping at my knees.

June released her grip on me suddenly. My center of gravity shifted backwards. It was enough time for me to wrench out of Mary’s grasp and crawl back up the snowy bank of the lake. I couldn’t stand. But I kept pulling myself along, farther and farther away from the water.

Two more shots in rapid succession cracked through the air above me. I saw the eighty-year-old grandmother Helen Darby, with a floral handkerchief tied around her head, holding a double barrel shotgun. Aiming it at the lake.

I didn’t turn around until long after she rushed past me. June’s naked body lay prone on the lake’s shore, bullet wound in her back leaking blood into the ground. Steam floating into the air from her torn flesh.

Mary was nowhere to be seen. I didn’t hear any more gunshots. Helen Darby circled around after a while. She put me back on the sled and dragged me to the hunting hut, where the rangers came to get me.

I lost three of my toes to frostbite. I considered myself lucky.

After my sisters disappeared, Helen Darby effectively adopted me. Whenever my father wasn’t home, she’d make a point to stop by. She’d teach me how to cook, help me figure out how to run the washing machine, knit while I did my homework or watched TV. Most importantly, she’d sit in the living room with the shotgun, long into the night. Making sure whatever had gotten a taste of me didn’t come back for another bite.

When I was old enough, or rather on my fifteenth birthday, Helen gave me a gun of my own and taught me how to use it.

Part of me knew it was all a little bizarre. But I could pretend it was about the grandsons she’d lost. She was just treating me as their replacement. We only talked about what happened at the lake once, and never again after that.

It was a cold night in December. We were sitting by the fireplace, listening to a radio broadcast of A Christmas Carol. Helen had been drinking gin straight from the bottle for a couple of hours. She often got sad when she drank. Her baggy, wrinkled eyes shone with a hint of tears, and the corners of her mouth sagged downwards.

“There’s something wrong out in the woods.” She said suddenly. Unspoken context looming over us. “It takes the little girls and kills the men. It’s been there longer than this town. Folks just stopped believing in it.”

I had so many questions but couldn’t voice any of them. I just stared at her wide eyes.

“It still talks to me. Always talks to me. It tried to make me kill my brother. My husband. My sons… but I’m too old for it now. It can’t do much besides talk. I’ve tried avoiding it but look what that did. No. Somebody has to stay out there.”

She took another long swig from her bottle.

“You know, I’m not going to live forever, Ryan.”

I nodded, solemn. Life already a tangled mess of grief. What better cause could I pursue than wardenship?

“You know what has to be done when I’m gone.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. A sigh of relief.

This is a story about how I moved into a small cabin in the middle of the woods. I hunt and fish, and sell lumber to whoever needs it.

I don’t hear the voices or the screams. But some moonlit nights there’s a rapping on my window. I see the silhouette of a shriveled, naked woman with matted chestnut hair.

One day, she will probably finish what she started. Until then, I will keep watch, and do my best to pass along the story.

The worst things happen when we try to forget the warnings of a different time. Don’t wander in the woods. Don’t stray off the path. Something evil might get you. Just like it got to me.

#creepy #horror story #lakes #water #woods #author: coffinstuffer

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