#Gyro be pulling up with a chair

[yanapaniyanapani]

Steel Ball Run lore

Has somebody done this ☠️

[daniiye]

The Blueprint?

pairing ; kwon ji yong x reader  ─  genre ; romance  warnings ; fluff and maybe mild smut? note ;  around 1.3k words! i loved übermensch album! gyro-drop would definitely be my favorite!!

It was just a few days before Ji Yong’s long-awaited album release—the first in seven years. After such a long hiatus, this comeback was monumental for him, and naturally, you wanted to support him in every way possible.

However, Ji Yong had been unusually secretive about the album, keeping it under wraps not just from his fans but from you as well. No matter how much you pestered him for a sneak peek, he would only smirk and brush you off with a teasing, “You’ll hear it when everyone else does.”

It drove you insane.

You tried everything—subtle persuasion, playful bribes, even pouting dramatically—but nothing worked. Ji Yong remained tight-lipped, clearly enjoying how much it frustrated you.

Today, you were sprawled out on the sofa, lazily scrolling through your phone, lost in the endless cycle of social media. The afternoon was quiet, uneventful—until your phone buzzed with an incoming call.

Ji Yong.

You hesitated for a moment, glancing at the time. He was usually holed up in the studio around now, completely immersed in work. It wasn’t like him to call during his creative hours. A small part of you wondered if something had happened, but you picked up anyway.

"Jagi, how are youuuu~?" His playful tone came through the speaker, stretching the last word dramatically. You scoffed, rolling your eyes at his exaggerated sweetness. He’s up to something.

"Ji, I’m fine," you groaned, stretching out on the couch. “Shouldn’t you be busy right now?"

"I should be," he admitted with a chuckle. "But I’d rather be with you."

Your brows furrowed. That was suspicious. He had been practically glued to his work for months, barely taking breaks, yet now he was suddenly calling you in the middle of the day, sounding way too smug for his own good.

"Ji, what are you up to?" you asked, narrowing your eyes.

There was a brief pause before he spoke again, this time slower, more deliberate. "Come to my studio."

You sat up straighter. "What? Why?"

Another pause. Then, just as you opened your mouth to question him again—Click. Your screen had flashed, signaling the call had ended. 

Your mouth fell open. 

He just hung up on you?!

"Ji Yong—!" you huffed, staring at your phone in disbelief. He didn’t even give you a chance to refuse, to question him, to prepare.

You groaned, running a hand over your face. You knew he was doing this on purpose. Ji Yong loved keeping you on edge, loved seeing you squirm with curiosity and now, he had completely won. There was no way you were just going to sit here and ignore him after that.

Grabbing your coat, you rushed to the door, heart racing. Whatever he was planning, you were about to find out.

You walked into the studio, one hand carrying a matcha drink you’d picked up on the way, the other clutching your coat. Ji Yong was nowhere in sight, but you made yourself comfortable anyway, settling into a chair and taking a sip of your drink as you waited.

Moments later, the door creaked open, and Ji Yong stepped inside, his brows furrowing the moment he saw you.

“Ah, why didn’t you call me?” he asked, a hint of a pout in his voice as he walked over.

You turned your chair to face him just as he leaned in close, eyes flicking down to the drink in your hand.

“That looks tasty,” he murmured before stealing a sip for himself.

“Hey!” you yelped, lips parting in protest as he pulled away with a smug grin.

Ji Yong only chuckled, plopping into his chair with a satisfied hum, clearly unfazed by your pout.

“Why’d you call me in here anyway, Ji?” you asked, glancing at him as he focused on the computer screen.

He smirked, fingers tapping against the desk. “You know how you’ve been asking to listen to my album?”

Your breath hitched as he dragged out the words, teasing you with the suspense.

“Well…”

“Really?!” you practically beamed, excitement bubbling over.

Ji Yong chuckled at your reaction, nodding in confirmation, clearly pleased with himself.

He stood up from his seat, walking over to you with a pair of headphones in hand. Gently, he placed them over your ears, the music already playing as you settled in, sipping your drink with a content smile.

Ji Yong remained by your side, one arm draped casually around the back of your chair, watching you closely. His gaze flickered between your expression and the screen, anticipation evident in his posture as he waited for your reaction.

“Oh hey… I like this,” you said, glancing up at him with a smile.

Ji Yong’s lips curled into a grin, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “Yeah?” he asked, leaning in just a little, as if trying to catch every nuance of your reaction.

As the songs shifted, the lyrics grew more suggestive—sultry melodies laced with teasing words that sent a shiver down your spine. Your grip on your drink tightened, the straw caught between your teeth as your ears burned with heat.

Ji Yong, still standing beside you, noticed immediately. His gaze flicked to your face, amusement dancing in his eyes as he took in the way your cheeks had flushed a soft pink.

By the time the last song faded out, Ji Yong reached over and gently slipped the headphones off your head, setting them aside. His full attention was on you now, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Sooo… what do you think?” he asked, dragging out the words with an exaggerated tone.

You blinked, still processing, your fingers gripping your drink as you muttered, “This… this is for everyone to hear?”

His lips curled into a sly smile as he leaned down again, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “Of course,” he murmured, casually twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “I have to let my fans know how my mystery lover makes me feel.”

You froze.

“Wait… it’s about me?”

“Jagi, I don’t think I’d be writing about someone else pleasurin—”

Your eyes widened in horror, and before he could finish, you slapped a hand over his mouth.

“I-I get it!” you squeaked, your face now practically on fire.

Ji Yong gently pried your hands away, his grip firm yet teasing. “Do you not like it?” he asked, tilting his head, amusement still lacing his tone.

You avoided his gaze, grabbing your coat and standing up abruptly. “I—I’m going home,” you mumbled, flustered beyond belief.

Before you could react, Ji Yong had already wrapped his arms around you from behind, pulling you flush against him. His chin rested lightly on your shoulder, his voice a low murmur against your ear.

“You want me to show you the meaning of these songs?” he teased, his grin evident in his tone. “Especially the ones about..you?”

Your breath hitched, your hands gripping your coat tightly as if it were your last line of defense.

“I don’t have work,” he added, his voice dripping with suggestion.

You swore your entire body heated up at his words. “Ji Yon..—”

“Hmm?” he hummed, his grip tightening ever so slightly.

You could practically hear the smirk in his voice.

“Alright, alright,” Ji Yong chuckled, pressing playful kisses along your cheek and jaw, making you squirm in his hold.

“Ji—!” you tried to protest, but your words dissolved into a flustered laugh as he smothered you with affection.

“I’ll go with you,” he finally said, releasing you with a grin. “Wait for me.”

You watched as he turned back to shut down the computer and switch off the lights, his movements unhurried, as if he wasn’t the reason your heart was still racing.

You huffed, crossing your arms. 

Ji Yong only smirked over his shoulder. “Hey i can’t help it. You’re cute when you’re flustered.”

[wrxangel]

Johnny Joestar crushing on Reader at first sight

a/n: Johnny is so sos o sos o soso soooo cuuuteeee <33 my cutiepatootie my lil gumdrop, my lil sad blue Kentuckian 🥺

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Johnny had been staring at you from a distance, like a moth drawn to a flame, since the very moment he laid eyes on you before the Steel Ball Run began. He couldn't quite explain it, but there was something about you that stirred something deep inside him, like the first taste of sweet tea on a hot summer's day.

The Steel Ball Run was about to kick off, and while Johnny's focus was on the race, he couldn't help but keep an eye on you. Your presence seemed to shine brighter than the desert sun. He saw you laughing with friends, your smile as warm as a southern sunrise. It was a sight he couldn’t shake from his mind.

As the race progressed, Johnny’s heart skipped a beat every time he spotted you by chance. He had a rough exterior and nerves of steel when it came to the competition, but when it came to you, he felt like a schoolboy with a crush, unsteady and unsure.

Despite the numerous women he had bedded in his prime, the feelings he had for you were new, pure, and most of all, terrifying.

You were beautiful, and even with your dusty riding gear and dirt-smudged face, he couldn't help but freeze at the thought of going up to you.

He didn't deserve you. He was so sure of that.

But he wanted to, though. So badly.

The day of the next stage, he found himself at a dusty tavern, nursing a drink and trying to calm the jitters that had taken up residence in his chest. Gyro, the charismatic person that he is, was chatting animatedly with some locals. Johnny, however, was distracted, his gaze frequently darting toward the door.

And then, as if the universe had heard his silent wish, you walked into the tavern. Johnny’s heart leapt. He watched you with wide eyes, his mouth slightly agape. Gyro noticed and nudged him with a knowing grin.

“Nyoho! Looks like you got yourself a little something on your mind, Johnny,” Gyro teased.

Johnny flushed and shoved Gyro, praying the bastard wouldn't do something to make him look a fool.

"Shut it, Gyro. And don't you dare do somethin' stupid!" Johnny hissed, balling up his fist and trying to look small in his wheelchair to avoid your potential gaze, no matter how much his heart was begging for your eyes to land on his own baby blues.

"Johnny-boy, you wound me! I'd never do such a thing." Gyro snickered, slumping in his chair to show that he was harmless.

The blue-eyed blonde rolled his eyes, feeling wary of Gyro's habit to cause trouble. But the Italian had a point, his mind had been stuck on you ever since he saw you. That bright smile of yours lifted his mood like no other whenever he thought about it, and the small glimpses he caught of you whenever you crossed paths on the trek of the past stage made his body tingle and his face warm.

If his legs still worked, he was sure he'd still end up in a wheelchair with the way you made him feel weak.

Johnny suddenly felt the weight of his insecurities. His legs—lame and useless—seemed heavier than ever. He was convinced that someone like you could never be interested in him. But he couldn’t deny the pull he felt.

He glanced over to you, spotting you just a few feet away waiting on some refreshments you ordered at the bar. The bar wasn't too tall, either. You were at the perfect height to talk face-to-face if he was sitting next to you.

Next to you...

Johnny entertained the thought, imagining the two of you laughing together, talking about how you both got halfway across the country for the chance to win a grand prize of $50 million dollars.

He'd gaze at your lips, wondering how even in the western heat can they look so glossy and kissable.

"Guh!" Johnny covered his face with one hand, feeling his cheeks burn.

He hated feeling like this, like some inexperienced teenage boy at the thought of just staring at your lips.

And with the impulse of a teenage boy, he figured that to remedy these pesky feelings, he should just get it over with.

Gathering his courage, Johnny puffed up his chest and approached you. He suddenly felt a little awkward, his hands trembling slightly as he wheeled himself over to you.

“Uh, hey there. I, uh, noticed you around and thought you might like a drink. It’s on me,” he said softer than he had intended, his voice carrying the faintest hint of a Kentucky drawl.

You looked up at him with a curious smile, your eyes sparkling like stars in the night sky. Johnny felt like he might faint right then and there. His mind raced with self-doubt. Why would you want to talk to him? He felt so small and unworthy.

"How kind of you. Joestar, right?" You smiled.

And he melted.

"I- uh, yes! Joestar, my last name. You- you've kept an eye on me, or somethin'?" He fumbled, face warming at his bumbling demeanor.

This was not going the way he had planned.

"Mm, somethin' of the sorts," you mumbled with a shy look in your eyes.

You seemed so docile now that he was talking to you. But he could appreciate that. Made it easier to talk when he knew you were feeling just as nervous. Or at least, you seemed that way.

"Well, go ahead then. Whatever you want, it's on me," he gently urged, taking your responses as an invitation to sit next to you as he wheeled in closer to the bar.

"I'll let you know; real sweet, that's how I like my drinks." You ordered the sweetest damn thing on the menu, and he wasn't surprised. Your tastes matched your looks.

The two of you chatted in the bustling atmosphere of the tavern. Getting to know each other, hearing about how the last stage went for each of you. And he liked it, talking to you. It was easy, and it was as refreshing as the drink you were sipping on.

Johnny glanced over at Gyro, who was still engrossed in conversation with the locals, but occasionally shot Johnny a glance and a thumbs-up, clearly pleased with how things were going. Johnny shook his head slightly, amused by the gesture.

“So,” you said, your voice softening, “you’re really set on winning this race, huh?”

Johnny nodded, his expression growing a bit more serious. “Yeah. It’s not just about the money, though that sure would be nice. It’s... it’s about proving something. To myself, more than anything.”

You tilted your head slightly, your gaze searching his. “Proving what?”

He hesitated, then sighed. “That I’m still worth something. That even with everything that’s happened, I can still... I don’t know. Make something of myself.”

Your expression softened, and Johnny felt a pang of vulnerability as he looked into your eyes. He was afraid that you’d pity him, that you’d see him as just another broken man trying to piece together the remnants of a shattered life. But there was no pity in your gaze, only understanding.

“You’re worth more than you think, Johnny,” you said quietly, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re out here, giving it everything you’ve got. That’s more than a lot of people can say.”

Johnny swallowed, his throat tight. He wanted to believe you, wanted to hold on to those words and let them seep into the cracks of his self-doubt. But it was hard. He’d spent so long feeling like a shadow of his former self, like he was less than what he used to be. But here you were, seeing something in him that he couldn’t quite see in himself.

Before he could respond, you leaned in closer, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “And for the record, I think you’re cute. I’d love to see you again in the next stage.”

Johnny’s breath hitched, and his heart felt like it might burst out of his chest. He was stunned, his mind scrambling to process what you had just said. Cute. You thought he was cute. The words played over and over in his mind, each repetition making his heart swell a little more.

He turned to face you, his blue eyes wide with a mix of surprise and something that felt dangerously close to hope. “You... you really mean that?”

You pulled back slightly, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “I do. So, what do you say? Think we can catch up again after the next stage?”

Johnny nodded, a slow, genuine smile spreading across his face. “Yeah, I’d like that. A lot.”

As the two of you continued talking, the rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in that little corner of the tavern.

And when the time came to part ways, Johnny felt a warmth in his chest that hadn’t been there before. He watched you leave, his heart lighter than it had been in years. As he wheeled back over to Gyro, the older man gave him a knowing grin.

“Well, Johnny-boy, looks like you’ve got yourself a date for the next stage.”

Johnny couldn’t help but chuckle, his eyes still lingering on the door where you’d just exited. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

For once, the race didn’t seem so daunting. The road ahead might be long and grueling, but now, Johnny had something more to look forward to.

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[thezoe611]

"Nega-Scrooge looked at the little mouse with confusion, not understanding what he wanted to get to… …But it all made sense when Timothy pulled out a pink bow, worn with time… The old duck felt that he lost his speech when he saw that treasure that he thought he had lost. -… I'm sorry… You told me that if I stole again, they would beat the scientist… but I couldn't help it… - Timothy confessed, with his ears down-… I'm so sorry…- he apologized, holding the cloth object closer. Nega-Scrooge looked at him with shining eyes, unable to control his emotions when he saw his treasure again. With trembling hands, the old man held up the faded pink bow, while his mind was invaded by little Webby's memories of him. The girl always smiled mischievously, with her black bear teddy in her arms, as she ran alongside the triplets, wanting to participate in some training, to which Donald scolded them, saying they weren't ready, watched by Launchpad, Fenton, Gyro and several members of the clan… … Oh… His family… The old duck clung to the pink bow as if his life depended on it, eyes squeezed shut, unable to hold back the tears, overwhelmed with pain… and relief… …He didn’t lose his last treasure… Gosalyn looked at the mobster from where she was… The old duck who always watched with a smirk as Nega-Launchpad hit her, now cried like a heartbroken old man… … She was never going to forgive him for everything that Nega-Scrooge put her through… but… but she couldn't help but feel sorry for that poor old man… The young woman looked at Negaduck, who was staring at his enemy, serious. She took his hand, which he immediately clung to, not looking at her. -I-I'm sorry… Don't cry… I know you're mean… but don't cry…- Timothy asked, moving closer to the wheelchair. -Oh… Timothy Cratchit…- Nega-Scrooge looked at the little boy, smiling despite the tears running down his cheeks- What you have done… has been cruelty- -Eh?! B-But…!- the kid was confused, but the old man chuckled, tired. -As I told you before… You have great potential, lad… You could become a fearsome villain when you grow up- Nega-Scrooge told him, stroking his head, making Timothy blink-… But also so much empathy… That's what makes children so wonderful… They never cease to amaze you… - he assured, lowering his arm, and looking at his counterpart, who had approached, placing his hand on Timothy's shoulder. -… You don't deserve any empathy for what you did, and you know it…- the billionaire told him- But you have my understanding… If that can be worth anything…- -… Stingy… - the mobster smiled tiredly, leaning his back on the chair…"

Okay, this week marks 3 years since Unstoppable! I still have a lot of love for that project… even though I almost went crazy translating everything to English (and I know there are still spelling mistakes, I still apologize for that^^') (I guess that has put me behind with the "The Beauty and the Beast" project. I know I'll suffer when I finish and have to translate, but I'm not giving up yet!)

The thing is, I wanted to draw one of my favorite scenes, when Nega-Scrooge gets back the only thing he has left of his little Webby. I find his situation so profound and tragic. Yes, he should never have used Gosalyn to hurt Negaduck, and he was the one who tricked the villain in the past and tried to kill him… but losing practically his entire clan… The loss of the triplets, Webby, Donald, Gyro… It hurt him too much, and it gave him a great desire for revenge.

And Timothy appears. A child who, didn't change the mind of Mafia Boss McDuck, but made him remember how wonderful and mischievous children can be… opening once again the horrible wound of loss.

And although in the story Negaduck confesses [SPOILER] that he didn't kill the kids, that it was an accident caused by them, that would not have changed Nega-Scrooge. He would still blame Negaduck, he would still want revenge on him, and he would use the most precious thing for the villain for it: his love for Gosalyn, the closest thing he has to a daughter.

So yes, a rather complex character, one that I would have liked to write more about, I don't deny it.

I thank @rebellingstagnationblog again for allowing me to write this story. And also for the entire Geronimo Saga. Those stories helped me in a very stressful moment, to the point that this tumblr page is dedicated only to drawing random things from the story^^'

So that's it, three years since such a project in English. Thanks for reading^^!

[moonbeamwritings]

adventures in braiding

wc: 1.6k

pairing: gyro x gn!reader (and i guess gyro x johnny x reader if you squint)

warnings: none

“It’s so hot out,” Gyro complains, wiping sweat from his brow. “Are you guys not hot?”

“It’s hot as hell, Gyro. Stop complaining,” Johnny chimes in, tugging his hat from his head and tucking it into his saddle bag. “You’re not the only one sweating your ass off.”

Gyro slows Valkyrie to a stop and groans. “I need to take a break.”

He bonelessly slides off his horse and as soon as his feet hit the sand, he takes a long swig from his canteen. You watch as sweat glistens on his brow, water tipping past his lips and sliding down his chin and along his neck. More than just the sun heats the surface of your cheeks, and you find yourself following a rivulet of water as it creeps down the column of his throat and beneath the collar of his shirt.

Seemingly dissatisfied with how the water cools him off, Gyro moves to duck under a nearby rock ledge for some shade, and judging by the way he grimaces, the rocks do little to shield him from the heat.

“We can’t stay long,” you warn him. “If we want to make it to the checkpoint by tomorrow afternoon, we’re gonna have to keep moving.”

Gyro waves his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Just-” Gyro takes another huge gulp from his canteen and sighs. “Give me a minute.”

You watch as he pulls his hat from his head to fan his face, and annoyance washes over his features when it doesn’t immediately work to cool him down. Disgruntled, he tosses it onto the sand and then moves to pull at his hair, lifting it up and down to fan it over the back of his neck.

The movement gives you an idea. Digging through your saddle bag, you find a length of hot pink ribbon you’d taken from the last checkpoint. You don’t remember what compelled you to keep it, but you’re glad to have it now — if only to quell Gyro’s complaints.

You dismount, and join Gyro under his little rock awning. 

“I have an idea that might help. Do you mind if I try it?”

“God, I’d do anything.”

You crowd the space beside him and force him to turn away from you with firm hands on his shoulders, and when his back is to you, you set to work combing your fingers through his hair to ease some of the tangles. When you’re satisfied with how silky it is, you separate it into three sections. Delicately, you weave the hair together into a neat braid, and for the first time all afternoon, Gyro falls silent. As the braid comes to an end you pull the ribbon out to secure it in place, finally moving it over his shoulder and off the back of his neck. 

With his hair out of the way, Gyro lets out a long, pleased sigh as if you’ve just relieved him of a heavy burden. “What would I do without you?”

Emerging from the rocks with renewed spirits, Gyro bends to pick up his hat and straightens his back with a proud hand on his hip. Before mounting his horse again, he fixes his hat into place and fiddles with the ends of his hair, a smug smile tugging at his lips. Squinting in the sun, he asks, “How do I look?”

His cheek is sticky and warm beneath your palm when you move to pat it. You don’t miss the way he leans further into your touch. “You look very pretty, Gyro. Now, are you ready to go?”

“Mhm.”

“Finally,” Johnny groans from behind you, snapping Gyro out of his revelry.

“Do you have to complain about everything?”

“Me?”

The bickering doesn’t stop until well after the sun goes down.

You’ve created a monster.

In the days after, Gyro seems hellbent on incorporating the hairstyle into his daily routine. Every morning, after he’s washed up a little and brushed his teeth, Gyro drags the ribbon between his fingertips and fixes you with this sheepish, almost shy look, so unlike him you can’t help but laugh.

“You want me to fix your hair again?”

He presses the ribbon into your palm then, splaying his hair along his shoulders and dropping into a chair or onto the ground, waiting expectantly for you to braid his hair. And every time, you click your tongue and scoff good-naturedly, teasing him for being so high maintenance, even as you begin to comb your fingers through his pretty blond hair.

Sometimes in the afternoon when you stop to eat, he’ll ask you to tie it again. It needs to stay out of his face when he eats, you know. And you’re more than happy to oblige, setting your silverware aside to collect his hair in your hands. You’ll braid it, or tie it up in a ponytail, sometimes even twisting it into a low bun before digging into your food.

Johnny rolls his eyes more than once at the obvious (but apparently not so obvious to the two of you) display of affection, grumbling under his breath about you two needing to get a room already.

Gyro’s smile is smug when he tells Johnny, “You’re just jealous you don’t have a pretty thing like this playing with your hair.”

It’s a comment meant to get under the other man’s skin, and it does... every time, but you can’t help the way your cheeks light up with its implications. There’s a reason you’re so quick to fix Gyro’s hair, to do anything he asks really, and you suspect it has something to do with the handsome way Gyro smiles or the soft sparkle in his eyes when he’s pleased with the way his hair looks.

The air between you starts to change one night, now weeks after the first braiding incident. Weeks spent playing with Gyro’s hair or sitting close to him at meals or resting on his shoulder during downtime. Johnny had turned in an hour earlier, you and Gyro opting to stay up and savor the dwindling embers of the fire, enjoying the comfortable silence settling between you. The moon hangs high in the sky and a chill works its way through the air, cooling your overheated skin. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Gyro pick at the skin of his fingers.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

His fingers stop, a sheepish smile overtaking his features. “I was just thinking...”

“About?” You press, nudging your shoulder into his.

“Well, I was wondering,” he scoffs like even the thought of the words leaving his mouth is silly, “if you could teach me how to braid. I always get so happy when you do it for me, and I just...” He fixes you with a soft gaze, his expression bathed in moonlight. “I want to return the favor.”

“I-” you can’t even get your words out without smiling, the tips of your ears growing warm as you think it over. “I would like that.”

“Well, you’re the expert.” He unties the ribbon from his own hair and gently holds it in the space between you. “Teach me your ways.”

Just as you had done all those weeks ago, and just as you instruct, Gyro crowds the space behind you; his long legs sitting on either side of your hips. You walk him through the process: separate the hair into three even sections, cross an outside section over the middle and let it sit, repeat it on the opposite side, and keep going until you reach the ends.

He mumbles the steps to himself over and over again as he goes, and you smile to yourself as you imagine his brow furrowed in concentration, lip jutted out into a pout as he thinks.

The braid isn’t perfect, not by any means, and by the time he’s done (after starting and restarting more than once), the fire has long since burnt out. The moon acts as the only light to guide him as he ties the ribbon around the ends of your hair.

“I- It’s done,” he pauses, running his fingers over the braid. “I think, anyway.”

You reach behind you to feel it, and find that it’s a little bumpy, a little imperfect, but you adore it all the same. He’d tried, and that’s what matters. The thought makes your heart feel fuzzy in your chest.

“I love it. Thank you.”

“You can’t even see it.” He argues, a pout on his lips.

You turn to look at him and cup his cheek. “I can just tell it’s beautiful, and besides,” you pinch the apple of it as you assure him, “practice makes perfect, right?”

You catch moonlight and adoration in the green hues of his eyes, and as silence falls between you, you find yourself twisting so you can lean closer. You’re just about there, your lips almost on his, when Johnny pipes in, sleep evident in his annoyed tone. “Are you done? Can you please go to bed now?”

With the moment entirely shattered, Gyro affectionately rolls his eyes and pecks your cheek, fingers running over the end of your braid before he moves to stand. “Goodnight, sweets.”

He smirks, and on his way back to his bed roll, kneels down to plant a wet smack against Johnny’s cheek. Tone dripping with a teasing singsong, he says,  “Goodnight Johnny.”

Johnny grumbles an “I hate you” as he rolls over and tucks himself further into his blanket.

These two, you think as you settle under your own blankets. That night, you fall asleep with a braid in your hair and a smile on your face.

[teas-tavern]

The Trash Diver

Tea growled in frustration, tossing the fractured cylinder over their shoulder as they kept digging, tail lashing back and forth with frustration. Using their large claws to peel apart the rusted metal to pick apart the leg mechanisms of the destroyed mech. A smaller one, one that might finally have the part they needed.

They paused in their salvaging to wipe an irritating insect off their neck, smearing it with the oil and grease that clung to their forearms and hands. Looking around they let out out a huff of annoyance as they eye the pair of bipedal mechs slowly making their way through the scrap heap, lazily walking along in Tea's general direction. They hunker down for a second and analyze the situation. They could leave now and avoid the pair, It didn't seem like the smaller mechs noticed them yet, but then they would be abandoning the one chance they have had in a month to get this part.

Growling softly to themselves they bury back into the leg, swearing ill fate on the corps that designed their mechs with proprietary screws. Finally prying out the intact hydraulic cylinder they sat up triumphantly and cautiously rose to their feet, tucking the large part under one arm as they eyed the mechs getting closer.

Too close to get away unnoticed, Tea turned tail and ran, pumping their digitigrade legs under them as they barreled towards the hole in the fence they had wormed their way through to get in here. The thunderous boom of the mechs heavy foot falls were growing closer behind them as well as the shouts of the pilots for Tea to stop.

With a grunt they threw the cylinder through the hole in the fence before diving after it, narrowly pulling their tail through it before a heavy metallic hand slammed into the ground where they once stood. They managed a elated yelp before turning and running face first into another metallic hand which promptly closed around them, pinning their arms to their side and effortlessly lifting them off the ground eye level with the pilot who looked at them from behind a reinforced glass pane.

"Almost little rat~" The pilot teased. "Told you last time that you were not going to get away from me again."

"Fuck you!" Tea snarled back, "You guys are just destroying perfectly good pieces! Why cant I have a few?"

"Corp policy" The pilot shrugged, "I'm just paid to enforce the policy kid"

Tea squirmed and struggled resorting to biting at the metallic fingers that held them in captivity at least once.

"Caught the rat," the pilot stated into their radio, "whatcha want me to do with it?"

A moment of silence as the pilot listened to the response squawk back

The pilot leaned back in their chair and eyed Tea who was trying to bite the exposed hydraulic lines in the mechs knuckles.

"Hey kid, what do you need these parts for anyways?" The pilot finally asked. "All the mechs in here are decommissioned and outdated, nobody has sold these models for a decade."

Tea growled and with a violent shake of their head ripped a hole in the hose, splattering hydraulic fluid in their face and causing one of the fingers to slightly loosen its hold. "I'm building my own!"

"Uh huh." The pilot flipped a switch, silencing a low pressure notice "You. Are building a mech. The heavy duty machine that is powered with a nuclear reactor. Where does a child acquire a nuclear reactor?"

"Not your bees wax!" Tea snapped back eyeing the next hydraulic line

"Kid please stop eating my hydraulics"

The other two mechs that had originally chased Tea came running up from along the fence, having run around through the gate. Both pilots eyeing the savage oil covered beast biting at the hand that held it.

"Finally you two catch up." The pilot snapped.

"Sorry boss, Mike's mech fell again." the pilot in the lead answered.

They both turned to look at the other mech that had its front covered in mud save a patch that had been wiped clean that Mike peered through.

"Sorry boss, gyros out of tune again." Mike apologized.

"Eh whatever, I want you two to meet the newest member of our team." The pilot held up Tea who froze, ears perked, halfway through biting through another hydraulic line.

Both of the henchmen were silent for a long time before busting up laughing, Mike jostling his controls and abruptly slamming his mech onto its back. Tea looked at the pilot who held them, confused.

"What do you say huh kid? Policy is against stealing parts, part of our contract gives us free pickings from the pile. Its a win win." The pilot tilted their controls, gently loosening their hold on Tea and holding the hand flat so they can stand freely, clutching the cylinder to their chest with their tail wrapped around their ankles.

"Oh shit you are serious" The other pilot interjected. "Boss you cant be serious. We are not a daycare!"

"I accept." Tea stated flatly.

"Great! Ill see you tomorrow at first light Rat~" The pilot gently set Tea on the ground before turning to the other two, cutting off a heated response from the other pilots with a single hand raise.

"Trust me guys. The kids gonna get us places."

[another-random-object-show]

Another Random Object Show: SEASON 1

EPISODE 18: Come Here Often?

“FINALLY! That.. CREATURE we dare even call a person is GONE!” House proclaims. “Ughhh, this just— god, I haven't even START anything, but it's already just.. SO MUCH BETTER WITHOUT HIM HERE!” House tells Penta. “It really is. Lunartic was just.. god awful. Honestly deserves to burn in hell.” Penta agreed. “Anyways, what's Cuby and GyroGyro up to?” House said. “...think they're forming a trio with David?” Penta replied.

David nodded, agreeing to join Cuby. GyroGyro tried to show the two his ideas for the next challenge, but it was all in Japanese. Meanwhile, Question Mark was playing with Sunny, who asked— “...Ms. Mark? Why do you ask alotta questions??” He asks. “Oh, well besides being my job as a Detective Journalist, I’m just naturally curious and skeptical, I guess!” She scratched the back of her head. “So… I should ask alotta questions so I can find things out..?” He asked. “Yeah, go ahead!” Question Mark says, with Sunny cheering.

“Okay, okay, uhmmm… MOONY!! Where did I come from?” Sunny asks. “...I.. don't know, I’m sorry Sunny.” Moony sighs. “Oh, okay.. uhm… GOURDY!! WHAT’S THE NEXT CHALLENGE?? :Dl Sunny now asks. “..I should've said that.” Question Mark adds.

“..OH! I FINISHED IT A WHILE AGO! Hold on!” The Gourd now rushes to the Ballroom Building to prepare.

After cluttering around for a bit, summoning chairs and tables, a panicked The Gourd comes back out. “ALRIGHT …alright… alright, so..” He coughs, before fixing himself. “THE NEXT CHALLENGE!! Will be dating!” He says.

David Stix blinks, before signing something.

“Why yes David, there are… oh. Only 9 of you? Uhm…” The Gourd thinks, GyroGyro howls lowly, speaking to David.

“Alright, then you’ll be in groups of 3! You’ll pair up with two others, being either a Date Member or Third Wheel, and… if you fall into the group with the least enjoyment points, you’ll be up for elimination by the winners.. sound good?” The Gourd says.

The Contestants murmur and shrug, before being told to— “START!”

GyroGyro got assigned Sunny and House, to which he immediately stood. “...Sunny is 12.” House says. “I’m not about to go on a date with a 12-year-old.” House says. “How old are you?? :-)” Sunny asks House. “I was built in 1983, so… 34?” He says. “Oh… you're cool. :D” GyroGyro now went outside with the two, and sat. He then thought for a moment, before spotting Cuby and Mime inside.

GyroGyro went inside, and realized something— he began to switch the dates around. Cuby with David and House with Penta. He then looked, and took Mime with him.

“So, what’s this plan?!” Mime asks.

GyroGyro howls, and Mime frowns. “Sitting and getting eliminated doesn't sound like that good of a plan.” It stated. “Well yeah ! …but we don’t really have a date, now do we?” Sunny says. “..we have each other!” Mime proclaims.

“...oh, true ! Gyro, how about—” TIME!

“Now, let's see… Question Mark, Cuby and David got a… 6/10, but Penta, House, and Moony got a 10/10! Now, for… oh.” The Gourd looked around, before spotting the three. “...huh. You two are a…4/10. You guys didn't even wanna sit inside, did you.” The Gourd says. “No ^^!” Sunny says.

“I appreciate the honesty, but unfortunately, you, GyroGyro, and Mime are up for elimination.” The Gourd sighs.

“..well.. I wouldn't vote for you, y’know!” Moony says, trying to cheer Sunny up. “...huh? Oh! I’m not sad— I’m just not paying attention right now!” Sunny tells her, leading to a small “ohokay..” from her.

AT THE ELIMINATION CEREMONY…

“GyroGyro, Mime, and Sunny. You three were voted upon by both each other and the 6 Safe contestants. Let’s see who gets out.” He nods. He now pulls out the first card. “Sunny… you are… SAFE, as nobody voted for you.”

Sunny’s seat glew green now.

“As for Mime and GyroGyro, the votes have been cast.” He nods. “Firstly, David Stix and Sunny? Abstained from voting, and did NOT ballot a vote.” He shows a screen with the two, their icons crossed out. “Now, the first two votes are for.. Mime. Followed by 1 for GyroGyro, 1 for Mime, 1 for GyroGyro… but the final vote goes to…”

GyroGyro’s Seat glows red. “GyroGyro, with a vote against himself, is eliminated.” He snaps his fingers, nothing happens. “...uhm… you're— go away?” He snaps his fingers until GyroGyro SCREECHES, leading to him disappearing. “..okay, I’ll take that. Anyways, see you next time.. on ANOTHER RANDOM OBJECT SHOW!” The Gourds tells the viewers as the torches go out.

END.

AROS was written by TheWiseGuest.

FIN.

"私の愛は私のもの、全部私のものです。

私の愛、全部私のものです。

世界には私のものは何もありません。

でも私の愛は、全部私のものなんです。" Yamate recited, softly stroking his wife’s head.

[martialwriterr]

Where The Trains Go

I looked at myself in the mirror. Fixed my hair. It was short. Close to the scalp, and I let my side burns grow. I got closer to the mirror. Showed my teeth. Licked my teeth. Pulled my right cheek down with four of my fingers to see how white my eyeballs were. I'm not sure why I'm doing this. When do we ever see ourselves this close.

I stepped out from the bathroom holding on to one of the protruding cylinder rails that stick out from the walls of trains. The train rocks back and forth simultaneously violent and calm. I sit down, put my hood up, and stake my foot in the chair in front of me. I lay my head on the window watching the long messy lines of light and smeared faces.

Trains. They are somehow the most isolating, yet most public places. In fact I would say that all of public transportation gives off an isolating feeling. I believe the cause is because we are collectively, mutually, headed towards a destination yet we are all menacingly kept to ourselves. I see passengers  placing their bags on empty seats just to avoid contact from another human being. Are we all hunting for some solidarity?

LAST STOP. NEW YORK. ALL PASSENGERS OFF.

I let most of the passengers get off before me preferring to be one of the last ones. A couple of young adults that stunk of weed and alcohol walked passed. A pair of black men with sagging pants that also stunk of marijuana and a sweet vanilla scent. A homeless old man crawling on his feet. He smelled very bad. A bald man dressed very nicely. He smelled exquisite, fancy, and serious. A bunch more uninteresting passengers lead out. I dug my hands in my pockets. Kept my shoulders shrugged and walked out. The air outside was a comfortable kind of cold. Cigarettes butts, condom wrappers, torn pieces of newspaper.

I walked up the steps with my head down. Hands in my pocket. I am reminded of all the times we made trips to the city. And for a moment I smiled and lift my head up. But, she is not here. She is somewhere where we wonder of. Some call it heaven. Some call it the afterlife. Some call it total oblivion. I decide to keep my head up. That what she would've wanted. Fix your posture, she said, it makes you more handsome.

I remember holding hands with her coming out of the Penn station. I told her that when I was younger I was enamored by the city because the movies made it seem like this was the only place dreams come true. All the handsome men and beautiful women were here. They made movies out of this place, I told her, there is a spectacle on every corner of this city. Look over there, there's music being played, and over there is delicious food, and look at all these lights, I told her. She said you can make dreams come true anywhere.

Chinatown and it's soup dumplings. That’s where we liked to go. I get on the subway. A homeless man asked me for a dollar and I gave him five instead. I hoped that the five dollars would get him somewhere tonight. Maybe a bagel, or one of those gyros made by those nice middle eastern men. But most likely will get himself whatever kind of alcohol or a cozy cigarette anything to numb himself from this cold. I find myself on the train again but this certain demographic at this time of the hour is different. It's just people of New York, and you can tell that they're from New York by the way their faces looks. Anybody who's been in New York knows what I am talking about.

I step outside the train out into Manhattan. The cold hits my face a bit harder this time. Small coffee, please, I ask. I use this cup of coffee mainly to warm my hands. Time was moving too fast for me. Just an hour ago I was at my parent's house in New Jersey. I decide to sit down with my cup of coffee next to a black man playing the trump. Don’t you wish you were comfy in bed? There is soul in the way he plays his trumpet. His face contorted to the sound of his music. Good stuff, I think, I too once played an instrument. I throw a dollar in his trumpet case and he nods in appreciation. I close my eyes for a little while with the cups warmth radiates in my palms. I listen to the steps of hundreds and hundreds of human beings. I'm reverting back to old habits. The one where I stay and maintain in solitude. Like the cricket you hear on a summer night. But I fear this solitude is morphing into a sort of isolation. I said thank you to the black man playing the trumpet.

I spotted a young girl with a t shirt and fishnets. An asian man adding to the eerie vapor of Chinatown with his cigarette.  He had a thin jacket on and one of those restaurant hats that look dorky but are to be taken serious. I saw that young woman cross the street again with her fishnets and flimsy t-shirt. She looked to be about my age. 

I got to her favorite restaurant and immediately was greeted by a pimply asian woman about half my size. I'd like to order soup dumplings. No problem, she said. The door chimed as I let myself out to wait in the cold. Everywhere were the circular ember colored shapes at the tips of their mouths. And the way they sucked on their cigarette made it seem like their cigarette tasted toasty, and comforting like a warm cup of hot chocolate. I hid my chin underneath my coat. Laid my back up against the wall. Asked myself the question. Why am I here? The door chimed again and out came the little asian lady. Thank you, I said. I can smell the fat from the pork coming out of the bag. So steamy. Soup dumplings. They're these little balls filled with savory, fatty, juice but make any sudden move with them and the delicate doughy dress comes apart.

I think, for tonight, there is nothing else to live for other than these little soup dumplings, and the amount of faces I have seen in this city, and the music that I've witnessed, and this cold air. I'm reliving memories. This is all I can do for now. I head to the train station. I took a 15 minute nap on the stairs waiting for my train. Once on the train I ate the soup dumplings. Slowly. That's what she told me to do. Eat your food, slowly. As I ate I looked out the window. We went under the tunnel where you see the pitch blackness in motion. Then the silhouettes of tree branches and houses. Every now and then I saw a stray window with the light on. I wonder what the story was going on in there. Making love? Heartbreak? Maybe some drugs? Maybe incredibly sad? Or, maybe, simply, someone forgot to turn the light off. As the train got closer to home the night started to get lighter. The runes of Elizabeth and Newark. You can tell we get closer to nice towns by the looks of their houses. Enter suburbia. I was close to home now. Exhausted I felt. Somewhat heartbroken. We passed through a deer that laid out next to the tracks. I felt even more heartbroken. The train came to a halt. I saluted the conductor. Outside it was cloudy, the air smelled cleaner, and there was a light rain beginning. The drive back home was quiet. Not a single thought in my head.  I didn’t bother to turn on the wipers. The dogs came out to greet me. I gave them both a kiss, let them go outside, and ran back in. I took off my clothes, and invited the dogs to come sleep with my. They made their selves comfortable snuggling in between my covers. I closed my eyes, and tried to count the number of raindrops that hit my window.

[kylo-wrecked]

Ben's used to those fucking lights, these turning heads.

Oh-ho, and to suffer a small death. Terrible, and Ben's familiar, being a bit on the terrible side himself. Rolling black shoulders, letting his dark head spill back, allowing himself to look like he's been shot, silent throat bared. Mourning stillborn laughter, he says what he thinks. Famous last words.

"I think I know." His vague smile is like a wink. "I get the picture." Makes a box with his long, notched fingers. Sniffs. Width of his hands camera camera-heavy. "I can dig it."

Steven Grant in full color. Blue and lithographic, a ticking Escher. Ben turns his bad ear to the kitchen, filtering, focused. Knuckling graffiti rather than surveying.

His subject is Steven, who shows Ben another item he already knows: the turndown. Qin qin. Crack of ice. Ben's used to hearing 'no' these days, but 'not tonight...'

Uh-oh. Ben shifts, pulling his legs together and straightening. Draws toward Steven again, soft leather hanging in an easy hug around his back and arms' sudden poise. Not enough to turn more heads.

It's been forty-five minutes, and Ben's flat as a cup of cola. Flesh mask is neutral, colored with a trace of irony, and iron.  

"Tsk. Steven," Ben says, sucking his teeth. Dropping a hornblende gaze on him, a warning that glistens. "I've got a suspended license and a chaperone. Don't tempt me."

His lips, plumped anew by the water Steven'd implored him to drink, turn up at the corners. He shoots his driver a text under the fold of his jacket pocket. Draws back, pushing the kiddie chair out from under him, rising. Ben Solo pushing through ants, patting Steven's arm like they've just met, which, they have. Holds his eyes a moment and rambles on. ('Soldier' doesn't make it onto film.)

Then he's on the corner of ninth, alone under a no-moon sky with a gyro bag crunched in his hand, old street globes glowing white and hazy through false acacia, and a thin shawl of clouds the color of fishbone. Grinding his teeth away. Waiting.

There's considerable consolation for a guy like Ben. He leaves knowing he could witness Steven's laughter on reel a thousand times, no breaks, and that he'll give him a project, and when his night ends, Ben will topple through the door with Steven Grant's laugh in his pocket like a golden ticket, remorse-free for as long as it takes to sign a check or fall asleep with his shoes on.

@silverjetsystm

How terrible, to kill another by eyes, by hands on tie, pulling it just so. All the signs of little death. Heat neither pooling nor cooling. Driven up walls himself. Almost another laugh. Tooth digs into the inside of his lip. For a joke… “You don’t know how true that is,” Steven allows, head motioning, smiling for the both of them, white dress shirt forearms resting on scuffed, off-white vinyl table. Self-Winding Grant, no crank required.

Watching Ben, black clothes absorbing late night light. Watching Ben watching Steven, Ben flipping through cultivated idle to guarded flesh mask. Watching late night take out. Polo perking up. A glint in Steven’s eye, coiled tension between his shoulder blades, palms becoming fists. Analyzing. Watching Soldier handle Ralph Lauren with a stern look, swell of driver’s suit muscle shoulders. Producer behind the camera.

Deliberately, he surveys the graffiti on the table, clearing his throat. Ballpoint initials. Scrawled phone numbers. Bite of now cold fry. Soothing Not Himself for he doesn’t need to be soothed on this. Why they have Soldier. Then he’s alone together, absence of the emotions onslaught leaving him breathless and drained. Blinking away floaters, grease fingers rubbing mild headache with a hiss.

Diegetic sounds. Kitchen’s playlist. Kitchen’s sounds of cooking. Those fucking lights. Ben’s coolness. Further turning of heads. Whatever invisibility they momentarily had was shattered. Grant doesn’t turn back. Grant is slumped, poking the fries with another fry, alternating gazing up towards Ben sipping water. Teeth dig into cheek to continue the feigned privacy. Ice crack.

"If not business, then..." Chair screeches as Steven sits up, adjusting his sleeves, brushing off crumbs. Chancing a long look over black hole bulk, tracing lips, meeting eyes. Steven’s lips slightly parted.

"Not tonight. We penciled in business and should pause at pleasant.” Gulps his own water with a sudden ferocity. Like the kiss that didn't happen, the event that shouldn’t.

Cup empty, Steven adjusts silk. Hastily, he adds, "Soldier can drop you off wherever you want, if you would like." Procrastination wrapped up in a sensible? offer.

@kylo-wrecked

[onlymingyus]

Enough for today...

pairing; jeon wonwoo x gn reader

genre; fluff

warnings; mentions food, stress

request; no

a/n; written for my wifey @multi-kpop-fanfics, love you bb

Your hands pull through your hair as you lean over your desk, Wonwoo could almost feel the stress radiating off of you. He knew how hard you had been working every day, but especially today. He had done his best to just let you do what you needed to do but every once in a while you glanced up and saw him beside you when a new glass of water or a snack would be placed next to your work. 

Now Wonwoo leaned against the door frame as he looked over your slumped shoulders, the tension evident in your posture. Moving over to you, he leaned down making you gasp into a small sigh when he pressed a kiss to your temple. “It’s late.” You hum out a sound of acknowledgement to his words but you make no attempt to move or to put down your pen. Wonwoo smiles against your skin rolling his eyes before he reaches to take it out of your hand gently making you groan. 

“Wonwoo…I have so much to do.” You look up at him as he shakes his head when he turns your chair before reaching up to take your chin in his thumb and forefinger running them along your soft skin. “No, you are done for the day. You can start again tomorrow but you’ve done enough today. I’m tired of watching your back all day long, I want to look at your pretty face.” 

You roll your eyes making Wonwoo laugh as he brushes his finger along your cheek. “That was cheesy.” He smiles and shrugs before moving a hand to take yours tugging you up from the chair so he can pull you into his arms wrapping one around your waist so he can guide you towards the couch. “Mm, speaking of cheese. I ordered food and I have a movie for us to watch.” 

Narrowing your eyes you let him release you as you plop down on the couch as he moves towards the kitchen only to come back with take out boxes opening them up to show you lamb gyros, covered in feta and tzatziki sauce. “Did I do good?” You can’t help but to smile and give him a small shoulder shrug as he puts the boxes on the table and moves to sit beside you pulling you closer as he turns on the tv starting a movie. 

The smell of the food, his gentle hold on you, and the soft sounds of a movie all comforting you making you forget, at least for now, the stress of your day. Wonwoo glances at you and grins when he finds you looking at him before he leans to kiss you softly. “I love you.” Your words mutter against his lips, Wonwoo’s fingers hold at your side as he hums against your lips before nodding. “I love you too baby.” 

——————————————————

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please note that I am doing my best to tag all of you who have filled out the tag list form but tumblr won’t let me tag some of you. I think that is because either you have tags turned off or possibly a blank tumblr page. consider reblogging some of the fics you like from me or other writers. ♥

© onlymingyus - all rights reserved. Reposting/modifying of any fic, or pieces of original writings posted on this blog is not allowed. Translations not allowed.  

[cockneydio]

Jojos Rated By How Likely They Are to Stay Locked in Eye Contact With the Dental Hygienist During a Cleaning

having almost nothing to do with the 60 excruciating minutes I just spent in the dentist's chair

Jonathan Joestar - 0/10 - a good boy, would follow social norms, but existed before the age of modern dentistry and thus knows only the man who comes round to pull rotten teeth and nightly gargling with bicarbonate of soda. incisors are comprised of whale bone and asbestos

Joseph Joestar - 2/10 (would consist of periodic winking) - by the time you get him into the chair after he's chased every nurse in the building and started a full fledged tongue depressor war with the orthodontist (so many splinters, RIP), the staff just gives Granny Erina the free toothbrush kit that my current dentist has literally never once given me and tells them they're on their fucking own

Jotaro Kujo - 10/10* - does not trust strangers in general, let alone ones who are gonna fuck around in his mouth by choice?? like. who chooses that as a profession. *the caveat is joot has never actually been seen by a dentist in his life, bc eye contact begins well before the exam even starts and the doctor just nopes tf out of the entire city

Josuke Higashikata - 6/10 (mostly nervous glances) - precious son is terrified of the dentist, tf is all that drilling noise you can hear from the waiting room anyway, why would they need nitrous oxide, why would anyone need to be sedated just to get their damn teeth brushed...😬(except with a pompadour)... so his hot mom has to bribe him with a video game literally every checkup. his teeth are always rife with cavities, but grandpa would take him to those appointments and josuke would actually be super brave on those ones. in theory Tonio could fix any new dental issues, but Tonio refuses to ever use his stand on Josuke out of sheer pettiness

Giorno Giovanna - 10/10 - he's a weird kid

Jolyne Cujoh - 7/10 - child support did not cover dental benefits so JoJoh has a whole backlog of government-funded visits ahead of her at Green Dauphin State Penn. when you don't go to the dentist for a while your cleanings consist of a process called scaling, which is just...multiple sessions of scraping and it sucks. she is highly likely to keep an eye on the almost certainly volunteer hygienist doing all this work on her.

Johnny Joestar - 3/10 - he goes to Gyro's grill man who ordinarily he'd want to watch bc would you trust or feel comfortable closing your eyes for an extended period of time around a dude who created All That? but cowboy dentist uses cowboy methods which in this case involve getting shit ass drunk with everybody beforehand so Johnny is passed out cold during the cleaning and wakes up with clean teeth actually but also a tattoo on his ass that says AQUA FRESH on either cheek

Gappy Higashikata - 5/10 - correct me if I'm wrong but I believe this young man is a sailor so he practices the seafaring dental hygiene traditions of consuming lemon rinds to ward off scurvy. is therefore suspicious of anyone who comes near his mouth with sharp instruments, but when they explain they're there to fix the acid erosion that's caused his teeth to wear down to mere nubs, he acquiesces

[land-of-birds-and-comics]

so about four years ago i wanted to spend twelve years torturing scrooge (in a funny way, probably) about that one time donald disappeared. since it's just a series of vignettes i will try and see how far i get :) hopefully not in real time.

part 1 is here

part 3:

The triplets hesitate before knocking on the door to Gyro’s workshop. It still feels weird not to barge inside, charge straight at the shiniest inventions and make a mess of his workspace in the name of keeping him company, but it feels even weirder to think that they ever did that. That everyone used to do that!

He won’t put up with it anymore, anyway. The door’s locked. The sign says “IF URGENT, PLEASE KNOCK”. Nothing else for it.

It only takes a few moments for him to peek outside. “Boys,” comes the voice, muffled. “I don’t really need your help today. I’ll call you the second anything comes up, I promise.”

“It’s not that,” Huey says. “We just thought you might be lonely.”

Gyro has both hands on the door, hiding most of his body behind it. “Lonely? That’s what I have my little helper for, isn’t it?”

“We just feel bad that you’ve been…”

“...locked up in there for weeks…”

“...working all the time.”

It takes him a moment. “No, no. That’s… I just need to focus, that’s all.” He gives them a thumbs up and a desperate grin. “Not much longer now, though! I can feel the approach of a premonition of a breakthrough.” 

“We brought some cookies from Grandma,” Huey tries, raising the plastic container. “She said everyone needs to take a break sometimes.”

Gyro’s eyes look incredibly sad, which hadn't been the intended effect of the gift. Just as Huey starts to worry, he steps away, finally opening the door. “Alright, boys,” he says. “Come on in.”

The place is in complete chaos, which is comforting in its familiarity. Schematics are scattered across the floor and pinned to the walls, though they’re even more inscrutable than they usually are. If they depict any machines, the triplets can’t make heads or tails of them. Little Helper waves at them from the desk, in the middle of extending the bizarrely looping lines of discarded graphs into colourful abstract art with a set of crayons. 

Huey pushes Dewey up onto the workbench, then Dewey pulls them up behind him, and when they're all settled in, Louie pops the container open before holding out one of the cookies. “They’re white chocolate and cranberry,” he announces.

“Thank you, Louie.” Gyro reaches out to pick it up, then examines it for longer than it could really be all that interesting for. “Let Elvira know I’m… Well, just tell her thanks.”

Louie nods. Then he nods at his brothers. They all nod at each other in silence. They’re doing well, they think. This is a very adult conversation. 

Gyro plops down on his office chair, backwards. "This machine," he finally says, gesturing towards it with his cookie, "doesn't really manipulate time, you know. It manipulates matter, which means…"

He stalls in his explanation, lost in thought as he looks at the thing. "Do you know those little… pop-up toys made of rubber? You push them in and they store kinetic energy…"

Huey scoffs, holding his head up high. "You don't have to talk about toys, Gyro."

"Yeah! We know all about physics. We've got a dozen different badges in it."

"We can build a trebuchet, calculate the right angle for a zipline, and illustrate the difference between string and loop theory using a length of rope and some simple knots."

Gyro smirks, tapping the cookie against his beak. It crumbles all over the place. “I don’t mean to talk down to you. It’s just a good analogy.” He folds his arms over the back of the chair. “I don’t come up with those often, right? Let me have this.”

Huey nods. “Well, if it’ll make you feel better.”

"Thanks." He starts spinning the cookie between his fingers. “The universe is like that toy. Everything above the outer ring is the... physical world we can access. And that machine just… pushed your uncle in. He absolutely has to pop back up. We just don’t know when.”

It isn’t particularly new information, but talking these things through has helped him before. Some part of them can’t help anticipating that he’ll jump up and run to correct the sign on some value somewhere, shout “Eureka!” and set everything right again.

“I can control it now, by the way. The duration of the effect- Do you want to see me travel a minute into the future?”

“No!” the triplets shout, scrambling from the bench, crowding around Gyro before he does anything stupid. “Not at all!”

He awkwardly, almost defensively raises his arms. “It’s safe,” he says, quickly. “I’ve done it before! I had to know- The process is totally safe.”

They look up at him, more upset than they’d like to be. Dewey’s still tugging at the bottom of his jacket. Gyro realises that he’s dropped his cookie to the ground.

“But it’s, uh- It’s not that exciting to watch, anyway. Time just… passes.” He sighs deeply. “It just passes no matter what.”

They all draw away simultaneously, crossing their arms behind their backs. It’s one of those moments where they all know what the others are thinking, but they’re still waiting for one of them to act on it. Little Helper attempts to clear up the cookie-related debris with the world’s tiniest dustpan.

“It wasn’t your fault,” Dewey finally says. “Unca Donald always had some kind of button-pushing compulsion.” 

“Yeah! The less he’s supposed to do it, the more he wants to.”

“No force on earth that could stop him. And we’ve tried!”

Gyro slowly looks up at them. “A button...” His mouth hangs open with a word that never makes it out of there. Instead, all worry is suddenly wiped from the lower half of his face. It remains conspicuously present in the upper half. “Yes, certainly he did!” he exclaims, eyes shifting away from them. “Does! Certainly he does. That’s exactly what happened.” He taps a quick rhythm on his knee. “Can’t keep his hands off those buttons, that… that Donald Duck. Doesn’t even need a reason.”

The triplets regard each other with suspicion. Before they can say anything, Gyro pushes off of his chair, nearly gets one foot caught on it, and starts herding them towards the door.

“Listen- I should really get back to work- Give Grandma my best- And I promise it won’t be much longer, alright? The next time I call you, it’ll be good news. I promise I can fix this.”

“Well, sure,” Louie says, uncertain. “If anyone can do it-”

“No problem too big for a professional genius! None at all.” He almost pats Louie on the back, then seems to think better of it, shooing them off, instead. “Now run along and, uh, don't worry about a thing.” 

The ducklings flinch as the door slams shut. 

---------------------------------------------------------------------

part 4

[jojoboisimagines]

Jojos (1-7) with their S/O Serenading Them

Jonathan

Jonathan was wondering why you were lugging a piano all the way into the living room where you had told him to wait there for a second

He knew you had been taking lessons for quite a while but didn’t wanna make you nervous by sitting in on one of your sessions (though sometimes he’d stand outside the door while you were practicing)

Your boyfriend looks so mesmerized while you enjoy singing and playing for him, there are practically sparkles in his eyes

When you’re done, he nearly knocks the piano over to give you a hug and kiss

“That was beautiful, love. I really didn’t deserve this..”

Joseph

After a great meal at a restaurant he’d been begging you to go to with him, the two of you went to the park to sit by the lake

Your boyfriend had kept asking you why you brought your guitar with you and you were finally about to show him

When you start, he has the biggest grin on his face. He’s never actually seen you play before and he’s been excited to hear it since he found out you played

He claps along to your singing (even if its not meant to have a beat but he’s trying)

After you’re done, you have to keep him from pouncing on you, him forgetting just how big he is in the moment

“You little scamp! You planned this! And I thought I was the romantic one!”

Jotaro

You asked him to sit with you on the school fountain after finishing band practice. He didn’t have much to do that day so he obliged without complaints

You pulled out your ukelele and told him that you wanted to hear his opinion on a song you’ve been preparing to perform

He taps his foot along, until he stops, realizing the way you’re looking at him while you’re singing

This couldn’t be a song for him, could it?

You lean in closer and closer to him while you play and sing, making him tip his hat over his blushing cheeks

When its over, he isn’t sure how to react

He puts his hand at the back of your head and brings you into a forehead kiss, saying that it was good with a smile

Josuke

You show up to his house around 8pm and text him to open his window, He raises an eyebrow at that since you two hadn’t planned anything prior, but does so

Before he could say anything, you started singing an acapella version of one of his favorite songs

He’s a bit confused at first but then realizes whats happening

You’re literally singing a love song to him

legit tears up a bit, he’s always wanted something this corny to happen to him

After you’re done, Josuke rushes to the front door and meets you outside to give you a giant hug

If you try to serenade him again he might ruin your solo by singing along though

Giorno

he’ll admit, this was a surprise. He had never even thought about askng you to sing for him before

Instead of telling him beforehand, you just dramatically walked in his office and started to sing

This brings a smile to Giorno’s face, and he gets up from his chair to walk up to you

This only eggs you on further, as you grab his hands in yours, and starts slow dancing with him as you sing

When you’re done, the two of you share a sweet embrace, before kissing

“Bella, you’re so perfect. I adore your voice.”

Johnny

While the campfire was still lit, you saw the perfect opportunity to sit on a log across from your boyfriend and ask him if he could listen to a song you’d been practicing on

He agreed of course (’as long as its better than Gyro’s’, he adds), and you started to pat your legs in order to make a beat to start off of

At first he just thinks it some cheesy love song you heard somewhere, until you starts naming traits thats he has

Johnny’s so flustered he can’t even look you in the eye while you sing, so you cup his cheek in your hand

He’s practically on fire at this point

After you’re done, he smiles and touches your foreheads together

“Thanks, darlin’..”

[babyboydbaby]

certifiedwerewolf asked:

One day in mid-February, Huey and Boyd (and other people, but mainly those two) got texts inviting them to Pietro's private lab in East Mantle- a small facility he'd been working out of since the fall of Amity had left him without his state of the art lab and equipment for almost a year. He had something he wanted them to see, he explained, and he would not explain further.

So, a day was set for the meeting, and everyone arrived at the facility- a small clinic with an old, worn sign reading "Polendina Labs" over the door. Inside was a tiny waiting room with about a dozen chairs facing a reception desk, where a slip of a white and gold rooster in a close-fitting jacket was waiting to meet them.

"Dr. Polendina is in lab two," the rooster said. "He said to go on back. Second door on your left."

"So what is this place?" Mercury asked as the group headed down the hall as directed. "Polendina Labs?"

"It's Dr. Polendina's personal facility," Ruby explained, taking the lead as she obviously knew her way around. "He mostly uses it as a clinic since some of his patients live in Mantle and it's harder to get all the way up to Amity for appointments, so he comes down here about twice a week, but since Amity fell he's been doing his research out of it."

The first door they passed, Lab 1, was open, and the room beyond looked like a simple exam room. The next one, Lab 2, looked more like a smaller, less advanced version of Pietro's lab back at Amity. James and Pietro were waiting for them inside, along with Penny; once everyone had filed in, the rooster from reception bringing up the rear on a pair of forearm crutches, it was standing room only.

“Perhaps I should’ve stayed back at the bin,” Fenton observed thoughtfully, with a sweeping glance around at the room’s occupants.

“Don’t be stupid,” Gyro said. “You’re a scientist too, aren’t you?”

“Still, it is a bit crowded,” Boyd agreed, before an idea occurred. “Oh, wait-!”

Using his rockets, he elevated himself up closer to the ceiling so there was a bit more room. “There! Does that help at all?”

“A bit,” May said. “Although...”

After some pause, she pulled on Gyro’s sleeve to get his attention and gestured for him to crouch down to her. Raising an eyebrow, he carefully did as she requested and was silent as she whispered something to him.

After further pause, his expression shifted into something more knowing and he nodded. “Yes, that certainly would clear up more space, wouldn’t it?”

Before anyone had a chance to question what either of them meant, May was soon situated atop Gyro’s shoulders. “There! Now we should have even more room!” she said with a pleased smile.

[honeybeekao]

No Lonesome With You

2137 words

Johnny Joestar/Gyro Zeppeli

fluff, slow dancer's a cat, modern setting

Summary: Johnny turned to Gyro, his eyebrow raised. "You didn't think to tell me ya got a cat then."

"Technically I didn't, she just walked in here yesterday and I haven't kicked her out." Without a moment to spare, Gyro skittered past Johnny and pulled Dancer into his arms, swift as lightning. She immediately climbed her way on to his shoulder, staring at the newcomer.

Wanting to get a closer look, Johnny rolled as far forward as the space allowed.

The atmosphere was desolate as it was quiet—far too quiet to possibly believe there were even other human beings on Earth. The shine radiating off his laptop was blinding - he never did opt to turning the brightness down, perhaps that contributed to the abundance of headaches. No matter, he wouldn't do anything about it—he'd just continue to sit, staring at a mindless article that he'd far off forgotten he was gonna read.

The time in the corner of the screen was small but at the same time so utterly bold as it quickly switched to the new hour.

1:00 AM.. His therapist had recommended he try melatonin to try and get a grip on his sleep schedule, but he'd already know it wouldn't work. Maybe the meds would, but the whole "getting more sleep" never did seem to be Johnny's thing. It didn't matter how much sleep he got - albeit it did if he had to wake up early, but that was the thing. Here, with a freelance job in digital painting and illustrations; he didn't need a specific wake-up time. It was all a way for him to revert to lackadaisical routine, but that couldn't hurt him. It got him through life, yeah it was lonely most of the time—but he'd survived hadn't he? It was okay because he was stable.. At least, financially, and the privacy he'd never gotten growing up was all around.

A curious notification popping up at the top of the screen caught his attention, straining his eyes to read the text he found it was from his friend Gyro. Of course it was Gyro, Johnny didn't talk to anyone else who'd even be awake at this hour. Diego was too ambitious to let his proper schedule be fucked up, and HP just didn't talk much when it came to online.

"yoyo do you wanna come over and taste test some things??" The message read, followed by a slightly blurry photo of a kitchen counter that looked like a tornado had blown clear through it—why was every capsule of food coloring basically empty? Aren't you supposed to use like two drops of that shit?

Are you /srs or /j Johnny typed quickly, thankfully noticing his typo of "/h" before sending it which.. what even would that mean? He was grateful for the vehement need to meticulously go over any message he sent.

"100% serious, I may have gone a bit overboard," Gyro said after around 20 seconds. Probably wasn't paying too much attention to their chat if he was baking.

I'll head over :)✌ he replied, closing his laptop and finding its case somewhere on his bed. How that somehow ended up under his blankets despite him not remembering putting it there- he'd never know. The fact it was 1 AM probably didn't make that matter any better.

When he finally stopped staring off into the darkness—how poetic— no, but it was a little concerning how much he spaced out — Johnny pushed himself into his chair. Ready to make the totally strenuous journey to Gyro's apartment.

After closing the door behind him, keys in his pocket and the bulky laptop under his arm, he wheeled down the hall. No one was out at this hour thank God, and the air was quite pleasant actually. It could be classified in the ever-popular Goldie Locks zone - not too cold, not too hot, perfect for going outside in the dead of night! Er.. morning? Both, neither.

After turning one corner, Johnny got to the door with a decorative cowboy hat hung up on the frame—yeah Gyro didn't actually live that far and it was a wonder that the two didn't just resort to sharing an apartment given how often they were at eachother's respectively. Johnny knocked on the door, then continued to let his mind wander.

Was it a twist of fate that Gyro had sent such a message at what seemed like the perfect time? If it had been any longer with him dwelling in the mental mindfield he called his brain, he may have sunk into the clutches of those damnable thoughts. The ones that veered their claws at random moments and whisked themselves away in the shadows when others were near. Usually, he could ignore it - but Johnny was finding it more and more difficult to as the demons got bigger, more effective. Some nights they ate him up inside like he was nothing but a cored apple, easy to rot. Oh Gyro, you've no idea how much I don't wanna be alone tonight.

The click of the lock, and the sudden appearance of his closest friend brought him out of his haze, knocking off the blank stare he surely had settled into. The man had a funny apron on, he really did have a certain charm tied in every aspect of his life, was that a pin of Link from Zelda?

"What's up Johnny Boy! Up at the dead of night I see?" Gyro said in a surprised voice, raising his eyebrows.

"I'm always up this late‐ and you knew I'd show up." Johnny replied with a snort. "Am I welcome?"

"Always—even if I don't expect it," Gyro answered with a wink, the implications of his statement flying right over Johnny's head as he wheeled into the apartment. A strong scent of cinnamon, vanilla, a hint of chocolate maybe? permeated the air like the morning of Christmas, and Johnny couldn't help but scrunch his nose at just how vibrant the smell was. It didn't overwhelm him per se, but it was far stronger than any bakery he'd ever had the pleasure to be in. How many things did Gyro make?

"I kinda got carried away by looking at recipes and couldn't pick only one, so by midnight I had like 3 mini cakes baked!" Gyro rattled off his tale like it was just some regular evening occurrence. Which in all fairness it kinda was. This wasn't the first time Gyro had made an entire weeks- maybe two weeks worth of something because he couldn't just pick one idea to test out; he was really a man of his craft.

"Did you use every spice in that cabinet?" Johnny joked, eyeing obvious colors of unknown dusts on Gyro's face. He watched as Gyro closed the door, then gave a grimace as the man shook his head like a dog who'd freshly exited the depths of a lake—there was stuff in his hair too?? How'd he manage that?

"What, why're you judging me," Gyro's voice came off offended, he had the gall to move closer to Johnny which prompty earned him the palms of 2 nimble hands half a foot from his face.

"Do you want me to have a sneezing fit, Jesus Gyro," Johnny wiggled his hands as if to say "shoo!" He wasn't really irked—and he was probably being a tad overdramatic—but what could he say? He couldn't stand sneezing over cinnamon and sugar.

Gyro huffed, then switched his gaze to the hall. "I was thinking I'd deliver them to whoever's in my contacts, maybe spin a wheel to see who gets the one loaded in food dye, but I was sooo lonely without my best friend Johnny! Thought it was worth having ya' around." He talked with such a large grin on his face you'd think he was telling his life's story. Not once had Johnny ever bothered bringing up what went on in his own head, but it seemed Gyro wore his heart directly on his sleeve - as prominent as his golden grills. If he needed company, he'd seek it rather than let the alternative swallow him whole. Admirable; how did he do that?

"Well you're in luck I wasn't busy." Never am, not at night at least. Johnny dropped his hands back to his lap and tilted his head ever so slightly. "Sooo you wanted me to taste test or something?"

"Yepyep! Since I dunno if it's even any good," Gyro looked off sheepishly while tapping his hand on the wall behind him.

"You're a professional chef, I doubt it sucks." Johnny smiled in weak amusement, pushing himself to leave the front-door area to reach the kitchen. Which, it shouldn't have been surprising that the scents of delectable sweets was only more ambrosial the closer he got to them.

"Is... is that.." The young man gawked upon entering the brightly lit room. His eyes were wide in awe at the spectacle of a little gray creature perched upon the top section of the mahogany bookshelf. It made neon eye contact with Johnny, its tail swishing around as the two were at a standstill.

"Pspspsps—" Gyro's call to the fluffy feline wooshed through the air and hit all 4 ears "—Daaancer!"

Johnny turned to Gyro, his eyebrow raised. "You didn't think to tell me ya got a cat then."

"Technically I didn't, she just walked in here yesterday and I haven't kicked her out." Without a moment to spare, Gyro skittered past Johnny and pulled Dancer into his arms, swift as lightning. She immediately climbed her way on to his shoulder, staring at the newcomer.

Wanting to get a closer look, Johnny rolled as far forward as the space allowed. "You seem friendly.." Illegal how tall Gyro stood when he wasn't slouching.

"She's not chipped so.."

Johnny stuck his hand out, slow and far away enough for Dancer's choice to get closer. He could feel air from her nose as she conducted her character analysis, his breath paused in slight worry. What he was worried about, no fucking clue but being rejected by animals has got to be the lowest of lows that ever could low. "She's got gorgeous ey—"

The man's words were snipped short as the weight of 4 paws landed on his lap, the fluffiness of a face pressing his stomach like he was some sort of pillow. What the hell what the fuck, oh my God. Johnny's face rattled in mortification, jaw dropped and eyes unmoving, but soon endearment tinged the water in his heart and his hand went to pet the kitty's head.

Gyro's grin couldn't possibly get any wider, the man's eyes shining glee and THEY WERE ABSOLUTELY PERFECT. "She picked you!"

"Shh go away I have a new best friend," Johnny could barely control the warmth in his voice, which was a feat given how rare that was. Wasn't his thing, some people speak in winter and some speak in Summer— it all depends on their nature. Diego definitely spoke in autumn.

Bright as hell, with Johnny's glare to match, Gyro's eyes glanced around his camera to give him a 'it was necessary you can't be mad at me' face. The polaroid printed, and the pretty picture began to appear in front of him. A mirror to the real thing.

"So since she's your best friend now you can just show up to see her whenever ya want." A statement of calm and welcoming words reached Johnny's ears a moment later as he held the polaroid between his fingers. He hadn't seen a photo of himself smiling so genuinely in.. in like ever. Something about it made him want the tears to fall—but God he couldn't cry over a cat. And he especially couldn't cry about a cat in front of his other best friend—why was it complicated like that?

Gyro returned to his habitat of cooking utensils and baked goods, some already put into containers and others stuck on the cooling rack that'd probably been long over its use many minutes before. He let the cats bond as he made small slices of the different desserts, transporting the dense feathers of pure sugar to a plate of graphic roses. This was also the only plate that adorned this pattern, Gyro'd been searching to find a set to match - perhaps that goal would never be achieved. Nevertheless, he set the plate on the table, opting to just leave it there for the two to snack on at any point. And he'd get to actually reducing the mess to wash-cloths and Clorox later. Not TOO much later, but an hour wouldn't hurt the counter surely.

"Where'd the name Dancer come from," Johnny spoke up. The creature really had chosen him, her purring resembling that of a running engine. A cuddle machine of a cat and a boy who'd never known the pure joy of it.

"Oh I dunno, the way she jumped seemed kinda like dancin'—" Gyro led his own way, hair flowing behind him towards the CD player that set closer to the couch in his cozy living room. "A bit simple but I like it."

"Me too," Johnny mumbled a bit, "my best friend Dancer."

[wizardbronla]

Fenro week 2022! Here’s the first chapter!

“10-4 to Gizmoduck, there is a bank robbery in progress, over.”

The crackly voice from the radio on Fenton’s desk cut through the still summer air like a hot knife through butter.

Fenton looked apologetically at Gyro. “I’m so sorry, Carino, but I have to take this.”

Gyro sighed. Of course someone would rob a bank right before their dinner date. “I know Fen. Just please be careful.”

Fenton nodded once, and then said, “Blathering Blatherskite!”

He flew out the window, and just like that, he was gone.

Gyro watched the empty space for a few moments, sighed, and went back to his blueprints. It was going to be a long night.

—-

He wasn’t quite sure what time it was when the call came through. All he knew was that it was a quiet, clear, starry night outside, and then all hell broke loose.

“Hello? Is this Dr. Gyro Gearloose?” A nasal female voice said.

“Yes?” He said distractedly. Fenton should have been back any second.

“Hello sir. I’m Brenda from Duckburg Municipal Hospital. It says here that you’re the emergency contact for Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera?” She said.

Gyro felt his blood turn to ice. “Y-yes? What happened to Fenton? Is he okay?”

“We’re not sure yet, sir. He’s still in surgery at the moment. Would you mind coming down to the hospital?” She asked, her tone unchanging.

Gyro didn’t hesitate to grab his keys and coat and head to the elevator. “I’ll be there in 5 minutes.”

Gyro definitely kept his promise (even if it came with a few tickets for running red lights) and was there in less than 5 minutes.

He ran up to the check-in desk. “I’mheretoseeFentonCrackshellCabreraplease.” He said breathlessly.

The nurse looked at him with mild alarm, but she checked a few pages and said, “Oh, you must be Gyro Gearloose. He’s in room 246. That’s up the stairs-“

She was cut off by Gyro already leaving and saying, “I’ll find it, thanks.”

He sprinted up the stairs as fast as his long legs would carry him, though when he was walking through the hallway he tried to keep his panic to himself out of respect.

When he finally reached Fenton’s room, however, he hesitated for just a second before knocking.

What if he saw something he didn’t want to see?

He decided it didn’t matter, and knocked on the door softly just in case his partner was sleeping.

It opened almost instantly, to reveal a small parakeet with a name tag that read ‘Nurse Juline.’

“Oh, hello there! Are you Gyro Gearloose?” She asked kindly.

“Yes. Is Fenton okay?” He asked without hesitation.

Nurse Juline smiled and said, “He’s gonna be just fine. He’s sleeping off the anesthesia at the moment, but he should be awake within the hour. Would you like to come in and wait?”

Gyro sighed with relief, and said, “Yes, please.”

Juline led him to a chair next to Fenton’s bed. “I’ll be back soon with some paperwork and some coffee.”

Once she left, Gyro finally took a good look at his boyfriend.

Fenton was sleeping peacefully, his left eye had a large purple splotch around it, and there was a bandage around his head.

Gyro sighed again in relief, and internally thanked whatever deity was truly out there that his love was still alive.

—-

It only took 25 minutes for Fenton to groggily open his eyes and say, “G-gyro?”

Gyro snapped up instantly and said, “Hey Fen. How are you feeling?”

“Ugh…like I got hit by a bus.” He replied, attempting to sit up.

“A semi-truck, actually.” Gyro responded pointedly.

Fenton looked confused, so Gyro pulled out his waddlephone and showed Fenton a video clip. It depicted Gizmoduck being hit at 80 miles an hour and the hero falling down a cliff out of sight.

Fenton looked sheepish at his mistake and said, “I’m sorry, Carino, I-”

“Sorry?! I’m just thanking my lucky stars that you’re okay! I could’ve lost you, Fen.” Gyro said, sounding close to tears.

“I-I know Carino. I just wasn’t thinking about myself. I thought the armor would protect me…” Fenton trailed off.

Gyro scoffed. “The armor did protect you. If you hadn’t been wearing it…well, I don’t really like thinking about that. You’re lucky you only had a bit of internal bleeding and a concussion.”

At this point, Fenton had succeeded at sitting up. “I know, mi amor, and I’m grateful that you’re worried about me, but I think you worry a bit too much.”

Gyro sat next to Fenton on the uncomfortable hospital bed. “Fenton, you’re my boyfriend. I’m never going to stop worrying about you. And…I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Fenton grabbed Gyro’s hand. “Carino, even if something happened to me, you would still have Boyd. And the McDucks.”

Gyro rolled his eyes. “Boyd couldn’t live without you either. He looks at you like a second parent, you know. And the McDucks…they just don’t get it.”

Fenton opened his mouth to speak again, but Gyro put a finger on his beak to silence him.

“Fenton, listen to me. I know you love being Gizmoduck, and I love supporting you, but if you can’t start taking care of yourself too, I don’t think I can do it anymore.” Gyro said.

Fenton stayed silent for a few moments, before saying, “Okay.”

Gyro cocked his head in confusion. “…okay what?”

Fenton started speaking in his rapid-fire tone. “I’ll give up being Gizmoduck. I’ll do it for you Gyro. And Boyd. You can destroy the Gizmosuit, and I-“

Gyro cut him off with a laugh. “Yeah right. That’s just the pain meds talking.” He checked his watch. “It’s three in the morning. Go back to sleep, and we’ll see how you’re feeling in the morning, okay?”

Fenton nodded, already drifting back to sleep. “G-goodnight Carino.”

Fenton was asleep within seconds, but Gyro still said, “Good night, Fen.”

—-

Gyro didn’t sleep that night. He kept watch over his love, just to make sure nothing else happened.

Because after all, he was nothing without his family.