#Gyro is confusing me again | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jojolymes · 2 years ago

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𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐒𝐓 𝐏𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐎; thirty-four

࿔*:･ﾟ xxxiv.

next: ࿔*:･ﾟ xxxv. | table of contents

GYRO WASN'T SURE about how things had gotten to this point... Well, he did know a few things: he knew that he had been irked when you stepped out of your tent that morning, mid-conversation with Johnny. He knew that he found it odd that you were holding onto your side like your life depended on it compared to the days prior. He also knew that his heart dropped a little when he saw you struggling to get your stuff together but he tried to forget about that part.

He knew a lot of things really, like how erratic your behavior was as the three of you made your way to Hutchinson. When you weren't clutching your side, you were keeping your eyes glued to the reins in your hands. If he didn't already know any better... in all honesty, he did know you were ignoring him and Johnny. And he was somewhat ashamed to say he knew why (not that he would ever admit that).

"Johnny, you think something's up with Speedwagon?"

Johnny gave him a raised brow.

"Don't look at me like that, Johnny."

"Sorry, just surprised I'm supposed to care."

Gyro grimaced.

"Yeah, okay, but just look at... her," Gyro sighed while Johnny rolled his eyes. Gyro looked over his shoulder, followed by Johnny, both of them watching as your chest heaved up and down, then fluttered somewhere in between for a moment. Johnny winced, his brow furrowing as he watched you tighten your grip on your side. He turned back to face Gyro, a slight frown on his lips.

"Alright, there's something up for sure... but what are we even supposed to do?" Johnny asked, looking back over his shoulder as you looked up at him and Gyro. Gyro wasn't a stranger to pain— he was a doctor after all— and he knew an abdominal injury when he saw one. He could tell from a mile away. And though you weren't a mile away, your eyes said it all. He knew that in the end, all he could do (and had done) was look away.

Gyro knew a lot more, like how your face contorted into one of confusion when Johnny answered you about the cow that hung in front of you all; or how you hadn't expected Gyro to call your name and hand you a piece of beef. He knew his heart had thumped a bit louder when you looked at him with wide eyes, eyes that had been absent of pain for but a brief moment. Still, his mouth moved faster than his heart did.

"Don't worry, I didn't give you as much as I gave myself. You don't want to gain more weight, right?"

Gyro knew that what he said was probably the worst thing he could've said. Back in Italy, he was a womanizer: he could have every woman he wanted. He knew how to make any woman fall for him with a simple breath, a smile, and one look. There had to be something wrong with him because when it came to winning you over, you pushed away. And that was more than infuriating. There had to be something wrong with him— but he opted to think that it was you that was off.

Gyro convinced himself that something was wrong with you when you gave the beef to Johnny, insulting him as you did so. Gyro ignored Johnny's glowering and watched as you walked away, glued to your figure. It was then that he noticed Hot Pants, and before he knew it, three ropes were swinging in front of him. He hadn't noticed that he and Johnny had made their way beside you until he could see the side of your face, that same look of fear that he had hoped he would never see again glistening in your eyes.

Things only went downhill from there. Gyro knew he had messed up when he saw how distraught you looked after he insisted that Johnny shoot, unaware that you were in Johnny's nail bullets' range. He knew he shouldn't have let his emotions get the best of him after Hot Pants had let you all go, using words that were too similar to what he had thought about you at some point. "Liar"— there were so many other words he could have used to describe Hot Pants instead of calling him a liar after looking at you.

Gyro had hoped that you hadn't misunderstood but when he had seen your face, he knew you definitely had. His brain screamed to forget it, that it was your fault for misunderstanding, but his heart said otherwise. All his mouth would do was talk and talk about the corpse part, his eyes half-glued to you the whole time. But you seemed anything but interested and he wished he could unfurl the fists that you had made around Thunder's reins.

"I'm leaving."

Gyro's heart sank.

"You guys are... fed up with me, I can tell. I'm sorry but I think it's just for the best if I go. I think I'm just going to... I'm going to go with Hot Pants. He seems nice enough."

Johnny spoke up first, but Gyro drowned it out.

"Yeah, that's... it."

Gyro scoffed, too shocked to make sense of what he decided to say next.

"Go ahead then! Go have fun with that asshole!" Gyro didn't want to dwell too much on why he had said what he had said. As you turned away, heading in the same direction Hot Pants had prior, all he could do was badmouth you to Johnny. Gyro didn't register much of what Johnny would say in response. All that he could think of was what the two of them would do now without you.

It wouldn't be long until you appeared in front of them again, staring in shock from between the trees. Gyro's heart was overshadowed by his brain for what must have been the millionth time and in the end, all he could do was shoot glares at you and Hot Pants. He ignored Hot Pants' questions, too focused on your wide eyes, one of your hands still pressed to your side.

From there, Gyro knew that things weren't going to get better. He knew he was blindsided by the sudden closeness between you and Hot Pants. He knew he should be more rational and try to get you back with him and Johnny. He knew so much but he couldn't help it. The constant look of fear and shock on your face combined with your hand that just wouldn't leave your side drove him insane. So when Gaucho appeared, things were sure to worsen.

That look of fear in your eyes was horrible. That look was bludgeoned into the forefront of his thoughts, growing worse when those gunshots left Gaucho dead on the ground. He knew that look from the start of the race with the horse tramplings and the wasps and the men and just everything around you. But those gunshots shook you to your core. He could tell by the way your fingers dug far past the fabric of your shirt, almost as if you were trying to rip something out of there.

Then came the confrontation— Hot Pants' had come up with the plan after they had gotten stuck in that damn orchard, making paranoia-inducing loops through the trees that would never lead anywhere. Gyro had almost spoken up to tell you to stay with Hot Pants, but the selfish part of him wanted to keep you two away from each other. So he said nothing and let the bullshit Ringo Roadagain was spouting continue until the bullet hit his chest.

"Gyro!"

Then the bullet was gone and six seconds rewinded into a time when you hadn't screamed out Gyro's name. He was thankful really— the visceral reaction that had coursed through every millimeter of his being was gone. He hoped he would never have to hear you scream like that again. It was tormenting even. Of course, fate had other plans.

"You will never be able to escape unless you kill me!"

Ringo didn'tgive any of you a second to process his words before he drew his pistol from the holster on his hip and shot at the hand that had been his six seconds prior. Hot Pants' detached hand was shot clean through, the wound leaving a gaping hole that was gushing blood. Gyro barely registered Hot Pants' scream, too busy watching as you stared at the bullet that was smoking on the ground under Hot Pants' wounded hand. When both of you turned around, you could only watch blood shoot out of Hot Pants' disfigured arm, almost geyser-like.

"H-Hot Pants!" you yelped, just happening to face the gun pointed at you when you turned. The first shot was loud, terribly, uncomfortably loud as it traversed through the air and hit your left shoulder. While the pistol visibly recoiled in Ringo's hand, your shoulder recoiled with the impact, going numb. Gyro stared in absolute shock as you lurched back on your saddle, unable to catch yourself. Before Gyro could understand what had happened to you, another shot rang out in the once-calm air.

You were screaming now too, loud enough to drown out the scene around you. When you hit the ground, Gyro could practically feel the air in your lungs escape you, your eyes blown wide with brutal agony smeared across the parts of your face he could still see. He felt his lips open but they let no sound escape, torturing him with his own silence as your blood seeped into the dirt. What was wrong with him? Why was he not allowing himself to come to your rescue like you had done for him many times before?

Gyro's eyes drifted over to Johnny, whose eyes contained a hidden fire within them, a fire Gyro knew he should have been able to show as well. He watched as Johnny's hands reflected the night sky, stars making constellations atop his knuckles, fingers, and palms. Those fingers were pointed at Ringo, with nails that spun into blurs of painted blue. Johnny shot at Ringo with three nails, but Ringo only needed one bullet to get the job done. Gyro heard the crack of the small horseshoe Johnny hung from his hat and the breath he took as he fell back from his saddle.

"Wha...t?"

Two more gunshots and Johnny was on the ground, limp and lifeless beside your writhing body. You were crying out for more than just your wounds now, screaming Johnny's name with a voice that didn't even sound like yours. He heard every crack and strain of your raw throat, screeching for Johnny to wake up and he couldn't do a damn thing. This wasn't happening. He wasn't looking at the corpse of his friend and he wasn't hearing the bone-chilling screams of the girl he had been horrible to. Johnny wasn't dead. You weren't dying. And Hot Pants-

Gyro whipped around just in time to catch a glimpse of Hot Pants flying back into the railing of Ringo's deck. The wood splintered, shattering as Hot Pants landed on top of it. He looked back over to Ringo who lowered his gun slowly, letting the blood from his wounds drip down his arm and off his fingers. You were crying now and the faintest mirage of Iron Maiden had appeared beside you. But even Iron Maiden was too late, fading away instantly when Ringo shot one last bullet into your chest.

"No... No way!" Gyro mustered out, sliding off Valkyrie's saddle, stumbling when his feet hit the ground. This wasn't happening. He could feel Ringo's cold, calculating eyes on him, waiting for his next move. Gyro knew there was only one option, and that was to kill this man with his own two hands.

"(y/nnnnnnnnn)!"

Gyro's hands were on his steel ball in the blink of an eye, its cool metal beckoning him to throw it already. So he did, adding more spin than he normally did. Four bullets flew towards him but only one stuck, straight under his ribs. He felt the air leave his lungs as he sunk to the ground, eyes barely capturing the sight of Ringo falling to his knees, his cabin's support beam crumbling down along with the overhang of his roof. Yet, the echoes of the crash weren't satisfying enough as Gyro watched Ringo steady himself back on his feet.

The pain of the bullet was nothing as Gyro lay there, watching you and Johnny's bodies continue to bleed out. His hand put more pressure on his wound, gritting his teeth as he turned his head to assess the damage. It was bleeding, sure, but it wasn't horrible. In fact, it was more a flesh wound than a deep wound. Still, it was deep enough for blood to dribble down his chin as he tried to catch a glimpse of you and Johnny through the strips in his hat.

"As I thought... you... Gyro Zeppeli..." Ringo drew his gun once more, stepping closer to Gyro as he spoke, "You are a mere conformist! You threw those weapons, even when you were out of range! You threw them out of rage for losing your friends. Disgusting! You will never be able to kill me with something like that!" Gyro grimaced, straining himself to look past Ringo and at you and Johnny instead. If he could just look at you both, he'd be able to fight once more. He just needed the strength.

"(y-y/n)... Jo...Johnny..."

"I still have one shot left in this revolver but I am inclined to kill those that desire to kill me, with that all-encompassing dark intention," Ringo glowered, standing between you and Johnny, "there is no need for me to waste my time in finishing you off. Get out. I will release you from these orchards." Ringo reached down to grab your arm and then followed by grabbing Johnny's leg— Gyro felt himself seethe, reaching for his other steel ball. But it wasn't there. Gyro fisted at the dirt, staring Ringo down as he stopped to address Gyro from over his shoulder.

"My only objective is in my training; to become a human worthy of being useful to this world and to the man who valued my stand ability... to the man who sent me here, I am indebted," Ringo stated before starting to drag you and Johnny away. Gyro's fingers dug deeper into the dirt, even deeper than that when your hat tumbled off, tumbling away into the dirt until it lay still. "The corpse part that this Johnny Joestar has in his left arm... I will take it and return it to him. Since he said (y/n) Speedwagon knows of the corpse heart, she must come with me as well. For that, I thank you."

Ringo bowed as Gyro stared, a million thoughts racing through his mind. Who was he? Who the hell was coming after the three of you? But what really made no sense was how you were involved. The corpse heart? As far as he knew, you didn't have the corpse heart, let alone take an interest in the corpse besides helping Johnny with finding it. So why the hell was Ringo making you out to be someone who was just as interested in finding the corpse parts as Johnny was? Gyro knew better than that. He knew that all you wanted was to win and the corpse part search just happened to be a part of the journey.

Gyro sat up, his head spinning from a combination of blood loss and confusion. None of it made any sense. None of it was making sense. Gyro slowly looked up, scanning his surroundings as his thoughts strangled his mind. He saw you and Johnny's blood staining the ground amidst the dirt and rocks. He saw Hot Pants still lying in the pile of fractured wood that had once been the deck railing. He saw the crumbling overhang that was still letting debris fall in front of the cabin door little by little. Why wasn't anything making sense?!

"AAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

Gyro's throat pleaded for mercy as he screamed into the blue sky, allowing his voice to crack and splinter like the cabin he had partly destroyed. More blood dribbled onto his chin as the wound on his abdomen did the same, leaving behind dark marks on his purple shirt. His scream died into a hoarse breath, ragged as tears welled in his eyes. The last thing he wanted was for them to fall as he sat there, sitting limply with no idea of what to do next. He knew he had to do something, but what?

The telltale sound of his steel ball caught his attention as it rolled from the pile of debris and across the bloodied dirt into Gyro's hand. He could hear its dull sound as it rolled, counted the duration in his head— still, it wasn't right. For the gun to have killed you, Johnny, or Hot Pants, the duration of the steel ball rolling over to him should have been shorter. There was no way you or Johnny or Hot Pants were dead. It was impossible.

"That guy...that bastard...was this...did he do it on purpose?! Or was it a coincidence?" Gyro seethed as he tightened and loosened his fingers back and forth around his steel ball, "That gun was an 1874 Colt. Its firing range was the distance that this ball rolled which is a step farther than (y/n) and Johnny." Gyro brought up one knee and shakily pushed himself up using it, glaring hard at the partially destroyed cabin that he would destroy completely soon if it meant seeing you and Johnny alive.

"They're still alive. They must be. (y/n) was too far away for the bullet to have lodged itself far enough into her chest to kill her. The force from the bullet probably knocked her out after losing so much blood," Gyro muttered to himself, steadying himself, "Johnny's brain should still be intact too. The bullet should have stopped when the bullet hit that horseshoe. It's probably lodged in his skull."

Gyro could feel his entire body grow hot, so hot that he could feel the sweat beading atop his skin, cooling him down at the same rate. Perhaps that was what Johnny had felt when he had that fire in his eyes. Gyro wasn't sure. All he knew was that he was going to get you two back and apologize to you until he could make everything right. If he could do anything it would be that— all pride aside.

A gentle breeze made the dirt around him rise slightly whilst the horses ate away at the sparse grass as though their owners weren't dying. Gyro looked at Thunderstruck from his peripherals, noticing the way she paced around, and let out short huffs. It was as though she knew too that her rider was on the brink of death. Just as Gyro finally got on his feet, he fell back to the ground, his wound spilling blood freely onto the ground. He hit the dirt, unaware that he had even fallen back down for a moment as the whispers of a horribly familiar voice pierced his ears.

"You can't be heading back towards that cabin, are you son? To save (y/n) Speedwagon and Johnny Joestar...?"

Gyro sat up straight, whipping his head around to search for that voice. The voice that hat haunted his dreams and nightmares. He gritted his teeth when he couldn't find the source, bringing a hand up to his head when it started to spin from his frantic searching. Gyro sighed— he must have just been imagining it. It was common for that to happen when people lost too much blood. He really had to finish the fight so he could finally heal himself up.

"Gyro, do not go back to the cabin. If you go, you will lose. This should be something you've realized by now."

That voice again. Gyro didn't need to look around to know it was his father's voice. But his father was back in Italy, a million miles away. Still, it was his father's monotone voice, still cold as ever, even to his own son. That he knew for certain. How sad that even when his father wasn't around, Gyro could still find ways for his father to be disappointed with him. As Gyro stared at the cabin, he could sense his father standing behind him like he had when he was really there back in Italy. He didn't want to turn and face him now, saying the words he didn't want to hear.

"YOU CANNOT WIN."

#palominosbr #steel ball run #sbr #jjba x reader #johnny joestar x reader #gyro zeppeli x reader #hot pants x reader #diego brando x reader

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retlasute · 8 months ago

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॰ In The Rich Man's World ॰

Word count: 8000

☆ Table of contents

Previous Chapter

Chapter 22 - No Moon At All

You sat on the porch steps feeling pleasantly exhausted. After five days of grueling work, you had collected the new residents and set up half the accommodation for them. Johnny had rented a wagon to transport everything possible, including you. You'd been indoors for so long that Margaret would soon mistake you for one of the ornamental vases in the living room; Johnny was also disturbed by the fact that the sunlight hadn't touched you for three days and practically demanded that you help him and Gyro bring in the animals they had bought from the city.

Satisfied, you looked around in the direction of the meadow beyond Stephen Steel's small stable. The new residents were all camped there temporarily: two mules, two cows, eight pigs, and God knows how many chickens.

You wrote down all the names except the chickens on a list and kept it folded and crumpled in the pocket of the new dress Lucy insisted you buy. There were several other lists in there too, annotated, crossed out and corrected to the point where they had become illegible. You felt like a walking Number Book. You also felt like smoking a cigarette.

Luckily, this seemed to be available: young Peter, lost in the new tasks that the new animals had brought, had returned from work and was sitting on the grass behind the fence. You thought about having a coffee first, then asking for a cigarette. So you did, heading back inside.

''Are they ready to go?'' A muffled voice asked Vionnet from somewhere in the house.

''Yes, I think so, ma'am.'' Vionnet said, greeting you with a distracted nod and then returning to dusting the books in the living room.

''Will they use the wagon?'' Louise suddenly emerged from under the kitchen counter with a large burlap sack in her hands. It was probably full of potatoes. ''If so, ask them to bring some corn.''

''Leave the corn for tomorrow.'' Suddenly, Gyro burst through the kitchen door, frantically searching for his hat. ''I can't stand riding around in that old wagon like a damn rancher anymore, I want to take my Valkyrie to see the city.''

''Oh, and why don't you get her to pull the wagon?'' Louise asked and, before poor Johnny could enter the kitchen, she threw the sack of potatoes into his arms. ''Put them in the crate, please.''

Johnny, without much choice, nodded and went back the way he came, his confused face hidden by the potatoes. Without wasting any time, Louise was already chopping a dozen onions.

''It's easier for me to make you pull a wagon, carota, than my beloved Valkyrie.''

''What did you say?'' Her voice had been slightly muffled by the sound of potatoes being dumped into the wooden crate outside.

''I said it's easier...''

''I know what you said, you idiot.'' She interrupted him, not bothering to look at him. ''I'm talking about what you called me. Don't call me that again.''

''What? Carota?''

''Yes, exactly.''

At this point, curious, Gyro had forgotten about the previous task of looking for his hat, although Vionnet had taken it upon herself to do it for him.

''Do you know what it means?''

''Yes, and I don't want you to call me that again.''

''What's the matter, carota?'' He continued, amused. ''It's just a name, there's no big deal about it.''

''I don't care, just don't call me that again.''

Sensing the unusual apathy in her voice, the golden smile immediately disappeared and, somewhat embarrassed, he sought refuge in Johnny, who had just left the burlap sack neatly folded on the sink.

''Right, if you say so... Are you ready, Johnny? Let's go early, so we can get back early... Damn, where's my hat?''

''It's here, Mister Zeppeli!'' The small, helpful creature with the chubby cheeks appeared behind him with the hat in her hands, her eyes reaching halfway down his back.

Startled, Gyro turned around, but was soon reassured when he looked down.

''Ah, thank you, bella.'' He said, picking up his hat and briefly stroking Vionnet's shoulder. ''Johnny, let's go! The horses are already saddled!''

''Right, I'm coming!'' Johnny said, then gave Louise's shoulder a couple of pats and whispered ''How much corn do you need?''

''One sack is fine.'' She replied, smiling, and then said goodbye to him.

The chaos almost immediately left along with Johnny and Gyro, who had undoubtedly gone to cause chaos elsewhere.

Louise, having dated a chef, naturally had a culinary talent almost as good as Margaret's, but she had one peculiarity: she was incapable of carrying out any task in the kitchen if someone else was nearby or trying to help. You've learned the hard way that if Louise is in the kitchen, then get the hell out of her way.

Vionnet also learned this when, accustomed to always doing this when Margaret was in the kitchen, she tried to sweep the floor while Louise hung the caraway branches to dry in the window. The poor girl was thrown out and spent the day cleaning only the upstairs, afraid to go downstairs.

The living room was clean and quiet, with particular golden dust glittering in the air that stirred through the open doors and windows. A wagon, a carriage and an elegant two-wheeled cabriolet lay on the hay-covered floor, like huge, placid beasts. You looked at Louise, who was staring at you with her lips half-circled after long hours in the kitchen.

''Are you drinking already?'' She nodded at the glass of whisky in your hands.

''It was already here, I won't waste it.'' You said. ''Would you like some?''

''No, thanks.'' She said politely, but in a tired tone. ''Where did you get that notebook?''

You took a long, delicious sip of the whisky Stephen had left there, feeling the drink warm your throat and curl up in your chest like a purring cat. This time, Louise nodded in the direction of the other open object in your hands.

''Johnny gave it to me when I went into town with him.''

''Oh, how nice. And what are you writing on it?''

It would be easier to say what you weren't writing on it. You didn't answer, you just flicked through the little notebook for a few seconds, thinking.

''About the Devil's Palm?'' She asked again.

''Also.''

''And did you find out anything?''

''I don't know.''

''Do you think we can get home without the corpse?''

She stared at you, her green eyes waiting.

You took a deep breath. Only Louise, you thought wryly, would go straight to the elephant in the room and grab it by the trunk.

''No, I don't think so.''

She compressed her lips, giving a brief sign of frustration followed by compliance. Then she picked up a comb from the coffee table, sat down and started combing her hair, watching you write. There was nothing to hide from her there, and nothing she would understand by reading it herself. Just recaps, notes, lists, hypotheses... a complete mess. But now, on that particular page, you were trying to recover your memory from before and during your time at the Devil's Palm.

You were more drunk, so you didn't remember very well. But Louise remembered. It was very noticeable when she woke up from nightmares, her eyes wide, staring into the void, unable to describe her dream. Thank God, it didn't happen often.

You yourself would break out in a cold sweat whenever you remembered the Devil's Palm. For God's sake, there was no name for what you and she felt and still feel, because the human race as a whole has not suffered this experience. It was nowhere near anything that could be compared to it.

None of the senses worked there. In sleep, it felt like death. But at the same time, they all worked, in such a state of hypersensitivity that you would die from it if it lasted a little longer. An immense void in which the sound seemed to beat you, pulsing through your body, trying to separate every cell. Absolute blindness, the blindness of looking directly at the sun. And the impact of... bodies? Ghosts? Invisible people who brushed against you like moth wings or seemed to run into you and through you, like a collision of shuffling bones. A permanent sensation of screaming. Bones. Shuffling bones.

Was there a smell? You stopped to think, frowning, trying to remember. Yes, of course there was. And, strange as it may seem, a perfectly describable smell: the smell of air burnt by lightning. Ozone.

It smells strongly of ozone, you wrote, feeling relieved to have at least this small point of reference with the normal world.

That relief disappeared in the next instant, as you returned to the mental effort of remembering.

It felt as if nothing, apart from your willpower, kept you and the people of that time, like Gyro and Johnny, together, nothing but the absolute determination to survive. However, going back to the past and still not knowing what awaits you didn't help one bit. It was different - and much worse than anything you had ever felt before.

Was there a sound? Yes, of course, but it was disturbingly human, the same sound you were hearing now. Louise hummed Dem Dry Bones almost religiously every time she got distracted, and that's what she was doing now. Yes, that was the sound of your passage in particular, that song that sounded more disturbing in your mind every day. You already knew by heart the order in which Ezekiel collected the damn bones.

Then you thought back to the not-so-distant past. The list of fatalities from the Steel Ball Run. The names underlined, because you heard them before or during your stay at the Steel's house. Mountain Tim, Sandman, Hot Pants... Hot pants. A curious name, yet you were sure that Johnny and Gyro referred to this person as if they were still alive; but why was this name on the list of fatalities? Was this person using a new identity?

You know you shouldn't look at them, the ghosts or whatever they were. “Look” wasn't the right word... pay attention? Once again, there was no right word, and you sighed, exasperated.

''Dem bones, dem bones gonna...''

''Walk around.'' You sang softly, in chorus with Louise. ''Dem bones, dem bones gonna walk around...''

''Now hear the word of the Lord.''

You drummed your pen on the paper for a moment, thinking, then shook your head and leaned over the page again, but you couldn't bring yourself to write about anything now. Later. Instead, you turned the pages back to the rough sketch you had made at the beginning.

Time travel: cause and cure

Physical phenomena

Known locations (ancient routes?)

Religious nature

Mortality

The influence and properties of Ecclesiastes

Powers?

You were about to cross out the last item, but hesitated. Did you have to write down everything you knew, believed or suspected? You thought the idea of acquiring cursed abilities was silly, a pagan superstition with no real validity. You could have been right. After all, you were the scientist. But you have a disturbing memory of the night you saw Johnny shoot his own nails.

Long blond hair fluttering in the icy, rising wind, the fluttering locks silhouetted for an instant against the window. The nauseating smell of mold and alcohol. It was too far away.

Fairy tales. Stories of people who became serial killers, driven mad by the spirits of the place. That's how such stories were always told.

Reluctantly, you slowly wrote the word powers again, adding parentheses (stand abilities??), but nothing underneath. Not now; later.

''What's that?'' She asked, pointing to a paragraph that was exceptionally long and cohesive compared to the other notes. She quickly picked up the notepad to read it better. ''Jeez, where did you get that from?''

''What?''

''We dangle over an abyss and common sense tells us that our existence is no more than a brief crack of light between two eternities of darkness.'' She read aloud, resting on the Bergere armchair.

''Ah, that... Nothing much, just a reverie of mine. Not everything I write there has anything to do with the plan.''

''Hm, I didn't even know we could call it a plan. What do you mean two eternities?''

''What do you think?''

''Are you going to ask for my interpretation? Are you sure?'' Louise said with a soft, restrained laugh, leaning her elbows on her knees, interested. She thought for a while, maybe thirty seconds, which she thought was enough. ''If so, I believe you're talking about life and death, aren't you?''

''Yes, too. But there is something before life, an abyss as deep as death.''

''Is there? Ah, the conversation is getting too intellectual. Why did you think of that, anyway?''

''Nothing, I guess. I'm talking about the abyss from before birth.'' You answered simply, abandoning the glass of whisky.

''But comparing that state to death is a bit... exaggerated, don't you think?''

''These two abysses are identical twins. But we, as a rule, see the pre-natal abyss more calmly than the one we're heading for.''

''Ha! You've reminded me of something funny...'' Louise laughed, leaning back in her armchair more relaxed and looking around to make sure there was no one who could hear. ''You're right, but I know a friend who panicked when he found out his parents had made a tape of his... conception, I think that shocked him more than the idea of death.''

''Hm, you may be right, but what if his panic is more complex?''

Louise raised her eyebrows, the two orange lines so arched that they almost framed her eyes. What could be more complex than the contemporary terror of being able to watch your own conception?

''What do you suggest?''

''I don't know, I imagine you know your friends much better than I do.'' You stopped to think for a moment, undeniably amused by the sudden discussion. ''What if he's just a chronophobe?''

''Chronophobe?''

''He's afraid of the passage of time and how it works. What if, suddenly, seeing a world practically unchanged; the same house, the same people he sees every day... he then realized that he didn't exist there at all and that no one regretted his absence?''

''Hm, I think you're overthinking this... he just got scared watching his parents screwing.'' She said. ''You now, choking and pounding. That's terrifying.''

''Ah...'' You laughed. ''Maybe you're right. I'm thinking too much.''

You then began to deduce, with the unreliable hypotheses of your mind, what would be on the sex tape of the poor man's parents. These fantasies are no stranger to young people. Or, to put it another way, the first and last things in life tend to have an adolescent tone - unless, perhaps, they are directed by a venerable and rigid religion.

But the first conception sounds as immature and adolescent as the loss of virginity, just as a last date sounds as melodramatic as the last breath. Nature expects a grown man to accept the two black voids, before and after, as impassively as he accepts the exceptional visions between them.

''What about Gyro and Johnny?'' She asked, with a curious tone. ''How would they react if they heard a story like that?''

''If they found out that in the future we could watch our parents' sex tapes?''

''Yes. How would they feel about that?''

''That sounds like pure horror. Let's spare them.''

''Oh, right.'' She nodded, somewhat disappointed.

You can understand the frustration, it would be very funny and it's not out of the question yet, but she'd better leave it for another day.

''I need some fresh air.'' You said, less apathetically than usual.

''Alright.'' Louise replied as she combed her hair, more apathetically than usual.

You didn't ask or say anything. You just stood up with your notepad and fountain pen - which, by God, you still didn't know how to use properly - and excused yourself to the agitated Vionnet after she bumped into you, blinded by her accumulated tasks. You didn't mind, you were thinking of Louise. In a few days, she suddenly seemed apathetic; she didn't talk, she didn't look you in the eye. You could only remember Creed, and think that she also shared these thoughts.

But more painful than her apathy was her sudden joy. You'd expect that tomorrow morning she'd be back to “normal”, chatting to everyone and searching endlessly for something to do, with a frightening smile on her face. This phase of non-prolonged mania was disturbing, as if someone else had taken control of her body; although they still spoke, acted and thought like Louise, both parts. ''Louise'' no longer seemed like a person, but a kind of unity - or the opposite of unity.

Sister, you should put me on a firing squad, I have no words to describe how I failed you.

You didn't know where you'd heard it and you had no desire to remember it, but it seemed a very appropriate quote for your current situation, you thought as you watched the horizon. It wasn't a productive afternoon, nor was it a productive day, but your body was still crying out for cigarettes. You thought again that perhaps young Peter could help you with that, but you feared that he had already left to pick Stephen up from his work.

Outside, a carpet of clouds illuminated by the sunset greeted the night's arrival with anticipation. You closed your eyes, in a state of suspended vigilance. Back in the twentieth century, Thomas and the police were looking for you and Louise. Up ahead, on Staten Island, Gyro and Johnny were looking for the corpse - or at least information about it - and here, now, you and Louise were looking for a way out. You smiled slightly as you walked, feeling the wooden surface of the fence, on the lookout for splinters. Louise was your best friend; probably the only person close to you who really understood what you were doing and why. And then you took a deep breath. Maybe you didn't want to leave just then.

On this side, in the past, everything was silent, beautiful and serene, in marked contrast to the turmoil of your other life. You had the strange sensation of being suspended in the air, motionless, isolated in solitude, even young Peter's heavy breathing, now ahead, being just part of the white noise that makes up the silence, a silence that includes the warm hum of the wind and the snorting of the draft horses, ready to serve honorably in the task of bringing Stephen Steel home in time for dinner.

You felt a light breeze in your hair and a strand brushed against your cheek, as light as a lover's touch. Surely it was the air mass that the afternoon brought to the coast and your imagination which, underlying the stale smells of grass and cigarettes, suddenly made you smell the scents of bleach and Thomas.

''Do you need anything, lady?'' The young man asked, having just finished harnessing the two big, fat horses, one gray with white spots and the other white with gray spots. They weren't stains like the meshes of a cow, but as if someone had sprayed permanent paint on them, like painting two Dalmatians. ''I'll be picking up Mister Steel soon, would you like me to bring something from the town?''

''Actually, yes.'' You said it bluntly, your abstinent brain couldn't work well in the field of social relations. ''Cigarettes. How much are they?''

''They're not that expensive, lady, I can pay for you.'' With a yellowish smile - and incredibly more hygienic than Gyro's - he nodded chivalrously. ''Which cigarettes do you need?''

''Any that burns.'' You said, trying to sound relaxed. ''Do you have any for me until you get back from town?''

''Of course, miss.''

And then he reached into the pocket of his baggy trousers, pulling out an almost perfect pack of a brand you already knew. Instead of just giving you a cigarette, he respectfully handed the pack to you and you took it with curiosity.

Lucky Strike. You didn't know it was such an old brand, and it wasn't your favorite either, but anything would do now. You opened it and...

There you go, a brave little army. A platoon of twenty cigarettes, brave souls standing in salute, ready to burn for you, lady...

''Thank you.'' You said, taking one and handing the rest back to Peter, who politely declined.

''Don't worry, miss, I'll buy another one in town, you can keep this one.'' He said, still smiling. ''I've never met a woman who liked that kind of cigarette.''

''Oh, I'm not very demanding, you know...''

Polite and helpful, you thought dryly when, the moment you put the cigarette in your mouth, Young Peter was already lighting a match for you. You tilted your head forward, accepting the gesture with pleasure.

''Mister Steel had already told me about Mister Zeppeli and Mister Joestar once. But he never mentioned you and Miss Duncan.''

A thick, hot smoke is sucked into your lungs. Immediately you feel a tender nostalgia fill your head, body and soul. A nostalgia for yourself, the woman you used to be. The long, elegant nails, red like those of a Messalina. Red like the soles of your heels. Red like your lingerie. Red like the filters on your cigarettes. Head of archaeological research. Doctor-researcher (Y/N) is back, and she's the coolest one who's ever stepped foot in this building.

''I thought they'd told you something about us.''

Peter looked at you from the other side of the fence you were leaning on, curious. His greasy hair stuck to his shiny, sweaty forehead.

''Should I have heard something?''

''I don't know.'' You paused to take a deep drag from your cigarette. ''Should they have told you something?''

''People say a lot of things around here, and few of them are reliable.'' He concluded. ''I imagined you were their wives, but I don't see any rings on your fingers.''

''Hm, good to know you're out there looking for rings on our fingers.'' You scoffed, the nicotine bringing your good mood back to the same industrially deregulated levels.

''Oh, I'm sorry, miss, it's not at all what you think!'' He defensively corrected himself. ''I assure you it's nothing inappropriate, just curiosity.''

''It's okay, silly.'' You laughed. ''It's a more delicate choice than asking like most people do. I'm not married, and Miss Duncan is a widow. We're two intellectuals, personal friends of Gyro and Johnny. As good friends as Lucy, I guess. That's why we're here.''

''That's... vague, but good. Well, it's not my job to investigate your lives, but I'm glad you told me.'' And there it was, the yellowish smile back on his dirty face. ''And speaking of work, it's time for me to go. Enjoy your cigarettes, lady.''

''I will. Thank you.''

Yes, you will. You and your notepad. You and your brain. You and... maybe your lungs don't like the party very much, but they're the losing vote. There wasn't much left for you to do but wait on the porch.

And it happened, not only that they approached, gliding, those two familiar smiles; not only did the night return, bringing with it the newspapers, two bags of corn and a basket of sandwiches and fruit, with those bright red strawberries, so beautiful, large, well-bred, clearly begging to be bitten; not only did all this return with Gyro and Johnny, old Stephen in his green autumnal haze also returned, as did young Peter, exercising his extra occupation of private driver.

When the carriage arrives, the sky begins to darken. You look up at the low, black clouds and smell the rain, thinking of the rains of the past, the rains of childhood and wondering: what is my mother doing now? Is she watching my disappearance on television?

You miss your mother and, as Freud would say, why do we become childish in difficult times? They say that on the frontlines of wars, soldiers call out for their mothers during the fighting. The lightning flashes and then explodes in the distant sky, drowning out the voices of your friends, drowning out those beats in your heart, which you feel beating in your throat like a drum; and a chill runs through your skin, making you long for childhood colds.

''Is everything alright, (Y/N)?'' You hear Johnny ask, and you could swear he was still about twenty meters away, taking the sack of corn off his horse.

''Ah!'' you exclaimed in surprise as the voice came from behind you and the two bags of corn had already been placed on the porch. How hard can you get distracted? ''Oh, Johnny. Yes, of course. I'm fine.''

A blond eyebrow rose.

''Are you sure? You look pale. Are you sick?''

''No, I'm fine.'' You assured him. ''How was the town?''

''Same as always. It seems they're organizing the church for some local event.''

''Or a baptism.''

''Baptism?'' Confused, Johnny leaned next to you. ''How do you know?''

''I don't know. But Lucy told me that her friend is pregnant, about to have a baby. She's the closest neighbor we have.'' You explained. ''Madam Argentine, I don't know.''

''Argentan?''

''Yeah, that's it.'' You said, laughing a little at your confusion. ''Do you know her?''

''No, but the name doesn't sound strange, Stephen seems to like her husband.''

''Hm, I heard Lucy saying that they're going to invite the Argentans here for lunch. Do you think it's safe?''

''If Stephen approves of the visit, I don't see why you should worry.'' He said, glancing at the notebook in your hands. ''Have you used up half the pages? I've never met anyone who reads and writes as much as you do. ''

''Ha, that's all I know how to do, Johnny.''

''Are you religious, (Y/N)?''

The question, although simple, took you by surprise. So you faced him.

''What?''

''Sorry, I was just curious. Your friend said she plans to go into town at least once a week to visit the church, I think she's going with Lucy. But what about you? I've never seen you talk about it.''

''It's because I'm not very attached to religion.'' Curricular atheism, that's what you called it. ''Actually, it's funny you asked me that. Did you know that I did an entire seminar accusing the corpses of saints of being a hoax?''

''Really? How... ironic.''

''Yes, ironic and cruel.''

''What's a seminar?''

''Ah... it's a kind of work you do to prove to your college that you're competent.'' You explained, stubbing out your third cigarette on the porch fence and disposing of the butt in a glass of water that you had improvised as an ashtray. ''It was this work that got me a place at the Speedwagon Foundation.''

''I see... so you don't believe the corpse is that of a saint?'' Johnny asked, frowning, clearly puzzled. At this point, not believing was stupid.

You shrugged, feeling the weight of the question.

''It's not that simple. Science can explain a lot, but what we're facing now... is different.''

Johnny nodded slowly, as if processing your words.

''I see. I guess everyone has their own ways of dealing with... well, all of it.''

''Exactly. I just think that questioning things is part of the process. But that doesn't mean that I don't respect what others believe or that... I don't believe it myself.''

The silence that followed was comfortable, almost reassuring. Despite the differences in beliefs, there seemed to be a mutual understanding, a tacit acceptance. There was still enough light for you to see a mocking expression cross Johnny's face. Having never discussed matters of faith with people who weren't academics, you were more than cautious in these matters, but at least you were familiar with the general concept of each other's beliefs.

''You're an interesting person, (Y/N).'' Johnny finally said, with a small smile. ''I think this house needs a more thinking person than the rest.''

''Thanks, I guess.'' You gave a slight smile back.

''It's getting cold and I'm sure it's going to rain.'' He said, putting his hand over his eyes as if to protect them from the sun that had already set, watching the distant lightning. ''How about we go inside?''

''I just need one more cigarette.'' The answer came in a hoarse squawk. You sniffed and tried again. ''Just one more. Dinner can wait a bit. You can stay if you like. If you're not starving...''

He was. He hadn't stopped for lunch in town and his stomach was empty, but it didn't matter.

''I'm fine. It's a nice evening.''

He pulled you gently, making you move again.

You crossed the outdoor area through the garden and headed for the stable, walking to the short path that led to the pasture behind the house. Peter had already cleaned up the two cows he had bought, Blossom and Daisy, and they had settled down for the night, big dark figures on the grass, ruminating.

''You said you did a work accusing holy corpses of being fake... are there more corpses?''

''Oh, yes. We call them incorrupt bodies, and they're everywhere. This practice will be more common in the next century, so it makes sense that you don't know many incorrupt bodies.''

''Practice?''

''Yes, practice.'' You took another cigarette out of the pack. ''The practice of hiring thanatopraxists to inject formaldehyde into the dried arteries of a dead person and then guarantee millions and millions of dollars for the pockets of the Catholic Church.''

Johnny frowned, processing what you had just said.

''So, they keep these bodies 'uncorrupted' as a way of fooling people?''

You lit your cigarette and took a deep drag before answering.

''Basically. The idea is that the body of a saint doesn't decompose like an ordinary body, as a divine sign. But the truth is that a lot goes on behind the scenes to make these bodies seem miraculous. And it's not just faith that's involved; it's a lot of money too.''

''I never imagined something like this could exist. It seems... absurd.'' Johnny shook his head thoughtfully. Then almost immediately took some matches out of his pocket for you, ready to light your cigarette.

''It is absurd..'' you agreed, letting out a puff of smoke. ''But it's reality. When you start to see the world without the lenses of blind faith, you realize that not everything is what it seems.''

The cows, already settled for the night, continued to ruminate, oblivious to the conversation. The surroundings were quiet, just the gentle sound of the wind rustling through the trees and the occasional movement of the animals in the barn.

Johnny remained motionless, the night wind carrying the damp smell of the earth and the distant sound of rain. What you had just said seemed to have diverted something inside him, something fragile, something he perhaps didn't even know was still there.

''So, in the end, what's left for people who believe?'' Johnny muttered, almost to himself. His voice was a low, trembling note. He had taken that information too personally. ''If faith can be bought and tampered with. What's left?''

You watched the cigarette butt glow in the darkness, like a lone star burning its last vestige of light. You didn't quite know how to answer this question; you didn't even expect Johnny to develop a decent line of thought on the subject.

''I don't know, Johnny, I'm not a theologian. In the end, the only thing I can cling to, if not God, is the time I have left.''

''But you don't count. I'm talking about ordinary people, they need to believe in something, don't they? Without that, without some kind of faith, what's to stop them from just giving up?''

You let go of the smoke, which dissipated into the cold air, like thoughts that never materialize, mere specters of possibilities.

''Nothing stops them. Some give up. Others... cling to anything that seems true, even if it's a lie, because the emptiness is unbearable. Because emptiness, Johnny, is the closest thing to the truth.'' You sighed, feeling ridiculous. You were beginning to sound like your boss. ''Look, let's talk about something else''.

''But what about the corpse?'' Johnny asked, interested in your opinion. ''You don't believe in God, but you witnessed the corpse's powers.''

''I didn't say I don't believe in God.''

''But you sound like someone who doesn't.'' He retorted, and that comment made you especially uncomfortable. He wasn't trying to be inconvenient, let alone offensive. He was just curious. Then you began to think that perhaps you shouldn't see Johnny as a mere specimen of something different; as a Neanderthal from whom concise reasoning is not expected.

''I don't know, Johnny. I just don't believe in the things they attribute to God. Like incorruptibility, predestination, salvation and all that stuff.''

His blue eyes opened wider in understanding.

''They say that's what God is, as well as many other things. Isn't that the same as not believing in him?''

You tried to explain your idea in simple terms, such as your disbelief in predestination. Predestination, in this case, was not just an inevitable destiny ordained by God or the notion that God had already planned everyone's life in detail before they were born - although not a few Presbyterians saw it exactly that way. It had to do with salvation and the idea that God chose a path that led to that salvation.

Johnny squeezed his eyes shut, as if to block out the growing darkness around him.

''For some people.'' He said. ''And then He curses the rest?''

Johnny seemed to believe that. A lot of people believed it too, and it took better minds than yours to dispute that impression.

''There are whole books written about it, but there is also the basic idea that salvation doesn't just depend on our choice. God acts first. By extending the invitation and giving us an opportunity to accept. But we still have free will. And yet, how can we recognize this invitation? And what about those who don't receive it? I, for example, will enter hell through the front door, welcome banner and all. Why would they waste their time inviting me to salvation?''

You looked at him, your eyes meeting his, tired but still shining with a spark of something indescribable, something primal. At this point, you were just babbling and he was too hungry for that.

''You don't seem like a bad person.'' He said after a while in silence. ''You're just confused.''

His eyes darted back to the house and he frowned. He faced it a second later, swallowing and looking a little paler.

''Stephen is watching us.'' He said

You felt the tension that had dominated you for the last 24 hours increase. You had a feeling you were being watched in that house from the moment you set foot in it. You weren't going crazy, then. You didn't think to look back, you just pretended to ignore his comment.

''You must be hungry, you should go back inside and have dinner.''

''Yeah, I'm starving. But aren't you coming?''

''No. I just need to finish this cigarette.''

''Haven't you finished?''

''I need one more.''

''Why?''

''I don't know.''

''It's about to rain, you shouldn't stay out here.''

''I'm fine. If it rains, I'll go inside. I like it here, it's cooler.''

''If you say so... just be careful, okay?''

You nodded without looking at him. You stood outside, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warm bustle emanating from inside the house. The crackle of the cigarette between your fingers was a subtle, almost meditative sound that blended in with the muffled murmur of conversations that filtered through the walls.

The warmth of the cigarette flame briefly illuminated your face, casting shadows that danced across the lines of your cheeks. The smoke drifted slowly, forming ethereal patterns that dissipated into the cool night air. Each puff seemed to take away a fragment of the tensions accumulated throughout the day.

How long had passed? An hour? Two hours? You knew that this was the fifth cigarette since Johnny had come back inside. The voices were quieter and one of the upstairs windows, which you imagined belonged to Gyro and Johnny's room, was lit. You could practically see the movement of the house, you already knew by heart what had happened.

By now, Vionnet must have cleared the table and Louise insisted on helping to clean the kitchen. Johnny had gone to bed, as he always does after nine - which is why the light in his room was on - and Stephen was preparing his daily idiosyncrasy of smoking cigarillos with cognac while talking to Gyro, who seemed to be the only one who could stand all that smoke.

This routine, every predictable movement and every repeated word, seemed to weave a cloak of monotony over you. It felt like being trapped inside an old clock, where the hands turned incessantly, marking time with merciless precision. The routine setting, with its whispers and laughter, only amplified your sense of alienation. It was an endless dance, where you were condemned to observe, but never really participate. None of the things you watched happening in that house really counted on your presence.

Then the sound of firm footsteps on the ground outside cut through your thoughts. Gyro appeared in your vision, his silhouette emerging from the darkness with a look of indifference on his face. He approached, and you could see that he was hesitating, looking at your silhouette in the darkness with a little more focus to make sure it was you and not a pile of hay.

''Are you alright?'' Gyro was calmer than usual, but there was a note of concern in his voice that didn't go unnoticed. He seemed almost uncomfortable, as if your presence was at odds with what was going on around him, an unwelcome guest in the serenity of the night.

''Yeah.'' You sighed, caught between the desire to run away and the curiosity to know what he wanted. ''Just thinking.''

''Thinking?''

''Yes, thinking.'' You prepared to scoff. ''You're not used to doing that, are you?''

''Seeing you thinking? Nyo-ho... it's not very common.'' He scoffed back. ''Louise is worried about you. She said you were acting strange.''

''Oh, and you've come to see if I'm okay? How kind.''

''I said you always look strange. But she asked me to check on you.'' He replied, ''Are you sure it's all right?''

His intention was to be gentle, despite everything. Very gentle. Like cleaning a floor full of shards of glass. You could sense that he had planned this carefully, worrying every step of the short way back to the porch of the house, from which you agreed to follow him. He saw you like that; a mess of shards of glass. You were in pieces, and he would need to be astute, not in a hurry. Be careful to glue your shattered parts back together.

But he would soon discover that you wanted no part in that depressing delicacy, that court. You were a person who dealt with everything directly. Short and violent. If you were shattered, you would cut him with your sharp edges, as carelessly as a drunk with a broken bottle.

If it was Johnny, you'd understand. You could talk to him. But this was Gyro, and there was something different; something primitive, a simian feeling of mutual distrust between you and him.

''Come on, what's wrong with you, woman?'' He asked, sitting down next to you, too close due to the little space you both had on the steps and the fact that Gyro was unable to sit with his legs closed. ''Every time I look at you, you look like you've just been hit on the head. It takes you five minutes to answer simple things, as if you were deaf. But at the same time you're so chatty that I refuse to believe that there's really nothing going on in your head, no matter how much it seems like it from time to time.''

''What's wrong with me? If you like, I could write a very long list of things that are wrong with me. Starting, not by chance, with the fact that I don't belong here in any way.''

''You don't belong, but you're here, aren't you?'' He retorted. ''I don't belong here either, my home is on the other side of the ocean and I won't be able to go back there as long as I live. Perhaps not even my corpse can be buried there. I don't belong here, just like you, but we're here and we need to accept that.''

''Speak for yourself. I don't know what the hell happened for you to be exiled, I don't know what kind of serial killer or wanted politician you are, but I can go home, I just need to think.''

''And you're not thinking too much? Why don't you try to take advantage of the time you have to rest, like your friend is doing?''

''She deserves to rest, not me.'' You grunted. ''I need to find a way to track down the Devil's Palm or, if my theories are right, form it nearby.''

''Form it?'' He asked, but quickly dismissed it, not wanting to make you delve into the subject. ''You don't need to think about that now, we don't even have the corpse.''

''As soon as we get the corpse, I can't waste time, I...''

''Are you that desperate to get back?''

''I can't leave Louise...''

''Louise doesn't seem desperate, nor as crazy as you seem.'' He interrupted you. ''I'm asking about you.''

You shook your head, snorted for the tenth time, and then stood up. Gyro had the honorable ability to shatter any and all remnants of peace that solitude could offer you; the silence was interrupted with the same violence as a bellbird squawking directly in your ear. And the space, by God, you were on the verge of collapse. Why did he think it would be a good idea to sit next to you on that narrow stair in the dark? If it had been in any other situation, with any other man, talking about anything else, it would have seemed comfortably romantic. But you didn't know if it was Gyro or absolutely everything that made you want to scream until your throat bled.

''Hey!'' He called out to you when he saw you walking to the paddock again, getting up and walking right behind you.

''For God's sake, what do you want?'' You stopped yourself from turning to him abruptly, because you knew you'd burst into tears the moment he saw your face. ''Why don't you go and bother Johnny, Lucy or anyone else?!''

''What the hell are you talking about?'' He looked confused, even scared. His expression would crumble into two eyes pathetically bulging with astonishment.

''You always have some stupid comment, something to annoy me. When you don't complain that I'm talking too much, you complain that I don't talk to anyone. You complain when I read too much, when I think too much, when I exist too much. Why did you come here anyway? To call me crazy and nothing else? Tell me something fucking new! Tell me something new!'' You had already lost control, and you no longer realized how loud you were shouting. ''You're not the first motherfucker to call me crazy, and you won't be the last! They paid me to go crazy in their place, they paid me to get sick in their place, and the only way I found to get rid of these motherfuckers was to get cursed! I'm cursed! I'm cursed, in cursed times, with cursed people, and you say it's time to rest?! With all the fucking resources it took me months to find the Devil's Palm and now that it's the only way home I have nothing! I have no trackers, I have no corpse, I have nothing!''

It was then that he fell silent for too long. Long enough for you to turn around to make sure he hadn't left; ignoring the fact that he would see that you were crying. But there was Gyro's face, pale and shocked.

You were tired, to say the least. You've seen it all and you could safely say that you were about to go through it all. You've seen your entire career and life goals shattered, you've felt the guilt of having ruined the lives of people who didn't deserve it, you've seen a near and bright future become distant and unreachable. You've seen your own cowardice. You have seen with your own eyes that the universe does have its hospice and you are in it. You've seen it, and now you know what's not waiting for you. There are no holidays, no promotions, no million-dollar deals, no Chandom, no compensation for lost sanity.

There's no car waiting for you, no table reserved for you. Just another man calling you crazy. The little you had - a little wine that doesn't taste of vinegar, good music and a little money every end of the month - has been lost and there is no prospect of gain. There's no prospect of anything. If everything suddenly turned out to be a lie, if nothing was real, you wouldn't care. Actually, you would feel relieved.

''Dear God, you could have just sent me to hell.'' He said, with no intention of scolding you.

''Then go to hell, Gyro.'' You replied, crossing your arms after your futile effort to get rid of the tears. ''Go to hell and let me go crazy in peace, I don't need you reminding me all the time.''

''Look...'' He began, a little embarrassed, but not wanting to apologize. ''I was just thinking that you might want to do something different tomorrow.''

''Too late.'' You said, rudely. ''Johnny already tried to take me into town. It was fun, but you can see it wasn't much help.''

''I'm not looking for a solution to your problem, I'm just offering a distraction.'' He replied. ''So you don't spend the whole day thinking about how to get home. Thinking about the corpse and the Devil's Palm.''

''And how else am I supposed to find my way home? By going to London and entering a blue telephone box?''

''You're calming down, I can see that.'' He said, almost as if he thought it was funny. ''When you start saying things I don't understand, it's usually because you're well.''

''What do you want, Gyro?'' You rushed him to conclude the offer.

''Johnny said your friend convinced Lucy to raise chickens and we need a coop.'' He explained. ''Have you ever built anything before, mandorlina?''

''You already know the answer. ''

He chuckled.

''Yes, I do. Don't worry, I'll help you. Would you like to hold some nails and hand me some tools?''

For a moment, you thought how ironic that was. In your job, it was people who passed you tools and held things for you.

''Fine.'' You took a deep breath. Do you even have a choice?

''Perfect. Then let's go inside, it's getting cold.''

#steel ball run #gyro x reader #jjba part 7 #jojos bizzare adventure #johnny joestar #diego brando #diego brando x reader #ao3fic #gyro zeppeli #johnny x reader

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queer-in-a-cornfield · 2 years ago

Text

As per @shychick-52 ‘s request of

Sick Day (578 words)

Gyro woke up to the sound of his alarm, grumbling. While he was never a morning person, today felt… worse than normal.

But no matter! He trudged into his small kitchen, willfully ignoring how out of it he felt.

“Good morning, Doctor Gearloose!”

Gyro’s eyes widened in surprise and he let out a startled squawk.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” Boyd apologized as he made his way over to where Gyro stood. “Are you alright?”

As 2-BO- no, wait, Boyd. As Boyd walked over and began to scan him up and down, Gyro fought off the fogginess in his head and eventually remembered “That’s right, I just got custody of him from the Drakes yesterday.”

“You have a fever, Doctor Gearloose.”

“What?!” He exclaims.

“You have a fever. 110 Fahrenheit.” Boyd repeats.

“No, no- I heard you the first time. Ugh, that’s gonna make work a lot harder today.” Gyro mutters to himself.

“Work? It’s best for your health to stay home and rest to allow your body to better fight off the illness.” Boyd explains, confused.

“While that is true, I have too much to do at work for that to be a feasible option.”

“Surely Mr. McDuck would allow you at least a day to recuperate. After all, he let you and Fenton fly to Tolkyolk for me with no notice at all.” Boyd argues back.

Seeing just how determined the boy seemed to be and feeling his symptoms more and more as he woke up, Gyro gives in.

“All right, I’ll call in sick.”

“Great choice!” Boyd exclaims with a small fist pump. Had Gyro been well, he would’ve asked why Boyd was so happy about that, but he was too busy trying to not cough up a lung while leaving his message.

As he hung up the phone, he turns and sees Boyd standing and staring at him expectantly.

“Do you… need something?” Gyro asks as he pockets his phone again.

Boyd grins and replies, “Do you want to watch a movie? You can relax and we can hang out at the same time!”

Taken by surprise, Gyro stutters, “Oh, uh, I don’t-“

Boyd deflates some at the lackluster reaction and Gyro makes up his mind.

“Oh, why not?”

Boyd instantly brightens again and exclaims “Great!” before dashing over to the couch.

Gyro follows much more slowly behind him, grabbing some blankets and laying down on one end of the couch, making sure to still leave enough room for Boyd, who was waiting on Gyro’s old TV to turn on.

When it finally does, Boyd happily asks, “Whaddaya want to watch?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t kept up with what’s on TV in a long time. So, whatever you’d like.”

“Ooh, how about Amphibia? Huey was telling me he and his brothers really liked it.”

“Sure, sounds good enough.” Gyro agrees.

As the pair spent their day together in front of the TV, Gyro thought it was funny how fatherly he was acting. Despite being initially uninterested, he kept watching the show anyway so Boyd could talk about it with him. He had allowed him to sit much closer to him than planned. He had even made them both lunch partway through. He rarely even made himself lunch!

It was weird, but also nice. He’d have to make some time to hang out with Boyd again. Though preferably without being sick. That still wasn’t fun, even with Boyd making him rest.

#hope you like it #oneshot #unedited #i’ll do that later #ducktales #ducktales 2017 #ducktales fanfiction #my writing #gyro gearloose #boyd gearloose

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dandyfelines · 2 years ago

Text

Donro University AU (wip)

A late submission for Day 6: AU of @donro-week

It's only half-finished and not beta-read but, well, it's a University AU with a little bit of a spin on Donald and Gyro's personalities.

Gyro Gearloose prided himself on his ability to solve nearly any problem. He was the self-proclaimed inventor of almost anything. Throughout school, he made little gadgets for his classmates; some of his favourites were a device that perfectly steadied a compass, a machine that restored soggy lunchbox food to a fresh state, and a hyper-accurate paper ball flinger to get back at an irritating bully. In academia, he excelled, and people came to him for help working out a puzzling formula.

In his pursuit of heightening the limits of his inventions, he found an enriching opportunity in engineering research at Duckburg University. Prominent minds such as Professor Ludwig von Drake would be amongst his co-workers if he researched there, so in a short matter of time he created a research proposal that they couldn't refuse.

Under one condition. He had to teach a class.

He had never taught before, but he was good at helping people. Surely, teaching was simply an extended version of that. He would craft the parts and tinker with the variables necessary to create a functional, informative curriculum.

He covered every detail the textbook required of him, and more. He stayed up watching the lectures of Professor Ludwig von Drake and took notes on how to improve upon his lessons.

Yet, in spite of overwhelming evidence, a good scientist knew to qualify his statements carefully: Gyro Gearloose, the inventor of almost anything.

He read the emails from his students and, he wouldn’t admit it, a review on an anonymous professor rating website. They could be summarised into two types of feedback:

“Lectures confusing” “Professor Gearloose is a brilliant inventor, but cannot teach to save his life.”

Gyro Gearloose’s tall, lanky figure slunk into his chair. His body sagged down like a sack of potatoes.

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

"... So if you just report the results of your test in this format, you can use the data to formulate your own hypothesis."

The young moorhen sitting across from him stroked her red beak. "Oh, I see now. I guess I misunderstood the instructions. But… how do I know which theories to apply?"

"You have to think about it on your own! If you run the tests again, it will make sense."

"Hm, alright. I have to go, Professor. Thanks for your time."

"Of course, if you need help again, just use my office hours." Gyro sighed. Milly was a hard-worker who did well in most courses, but she was the worst performing student in his class. Her understanding of math wasn't bad, so Gyro did not know how to help her. All of his students had potential to be clever thinkers, but they were befuddled in his classroom.

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

Gyro’s mind worked at high speed. They possessed his hands. Out tumbled the numbers and theorems through furious scratching of chalk. The board was all his to fill.

Knock-knock.

The chalk came to a halt. A synapse was snapped. Gyro bemoaned the lost train of thought, but he hollered, “Come in!”

“Sorry, is now a good time?” That voice belonged to the receptionist of student services.

“What do you need?” Gyro set down the chalk.

A familiar duck’s face peered through the crack of the door. He had white fluffy feathers, and stray ones curled on his forehead and tail. He wore his usual outfit, a sweater vest and a puffy red bowtie. Donald stepped into his room, slow and deliberate.

"Well, I have another request from one of your students. They said this new lecture covered content not in the textbook, so they want you to share some additional reading on that topic."

"Yeah, I received about twenty emails this morning telling me the same." Gyro sighed.

"Right. And I wanted to ask for your permission to form an official study support session for your class. If that's ok, I'll go ahead and organise it."

Gyro clutched onto the edge of the desk and frowned. Then, he took a deep breath. "No. That's not quite what I had in mind. No, I ought to be in charge of this problem." He tapped a finger on his chin. "I know they find it confusing, but it's my job as their professor to guide them. Maybe I just need to invent a device that simplifies my speech, or I could make a script generator that factors in what students need in a lesson… "

Donald stepped backwards. He took out a notebook from his pocket and flipped through a few pages. "Well… if you're sure you can help them before midterm, I suppose..."

Gyro nodded. "I'm sure I can solve this. You'll see."

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

Two weeks later, time allocated to his office hours dwarfed his research progress. A barrage of emails from confused students flooded his inbox. The negative reviews on that website only increased.

"I just don't understand. I tried to use a script with simplified language instead of improvising on the spot, but they are still confused." Gyro bit into his sandwich.

Sitting across from him, Ludwig von Drake scratched his head. "Hm, sounds like a tricky class. Have you tried to give quizzes? See what they do and don't know."

"Of course I have, and I reviewed the problem areas they had trouble with. But then when it comes to new content, the problem arises again! I just can't figure out what is causing it. It takes too much time away from my research to create a new review session every week."

"Well, perhaps you could get some advice from my nephew. You know, he could probably find you since good resources."

Gyro blinked. "Nephew? How can he help?"

"Why, he's a whiz at finding information on just about any topic. You've seen it for yourself, surely."

"Just to be clear, your nephew is–"

“Oh, hiya Gyro! And Uncle Ludwig!” Donald pranced over to their table, using a single hand to carry a tray above his head.

Gyro grimaced as some soup splashed on his wrist when Donald slammed the tray down.

"Ah, there he is!" Ludwig beamed at Donald, who was now scraping a nearby chair across the floor to make a table for three.

"Hope it's fine if I join you!" Donald picked up a spoon.

"You've already made yourself welcome," Gyro commented.

Ludwig turned to his nephew and directed his attention to Gyro with a flat palm. "Say, Donald. Gyro here has a problem with making clear lectures. Do you know of anything he can use to improve?"

He tapped his beak with the spoon. "Well, there's a website I like to refer to for teaching methods. And I must have an old textbook in my office on basic pedagogy." Donald looked at Gyro. "What are you teaching right now?"

“Newtonian mechanics!” Gyro grumbled. “The textbook teaches it even though it is an outdated system!”

Donald hummed. “Well… most subjects are like that. The introductory level is simplified for a reason, you know.”

Gyro shook his head. “But I’m sure these students will be able to learn much better if they start with the concepts that account for our modern understanding the best.”

“Surely that's not how you started learning engineering?”

"I didn't need the school system to teach me that."

"I see… well, in any case I can find a resource to help you teach. If you apply these concepts to your class, I'm sure their testing scores will improve."

"Oh, that's not necessary."

Donald held up a hand to silence him. "I insist! My main work is student support, but I've been known to help staff too."

Gyro tapped his fingers against the table. "You don't understand. I'm trying to set these students up to have an investigative approach to inventing. Build important research skills, figure out how systems interact through observation. I don't need help teaching the material or upping test scores. It's about getting them to think more critically."

Donald shrunk into the seat. "I can still send you some resources."

Ludwig looked between the two of them. "Goodness, I’ll leave you two to sort this out.”

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

Gyro looked at the results of the tests. They were lower than he expected, and the most commonly missed questions were from material he had covered in his lectures twice. Then he came across Milly’s test. Apprehensively, he graded it, checking through the questions. There was a marked increase in depth and comprehension to her short form responses. She had compared the similarities and overlap between two different principles and speculated on the potential ways these could be applied in practice. Pleased, Gyro wrote her grade down. It still wasn't at the level he'd expect, but for this student, it was a great improvement.

Though, as one who made a living of research and experiments, a question tugged at his curiosity. Why did she perform well on this test? He hadn’t changed anything in his teaching for the previous lectures. The test itself was formatted and questions selected exactly as the mock exam was, so it couldn't be that, either.

Gyro decided to ask her. He could use that knowledge to help the other students succeed.

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

“Professor, thanks again for explaining this to me.” Milly slid the textbook in her backpack.

“Of course. Seems like you’re getting a better grasp of things!”

“I figured out a study method that works for me,” she said.

This was what he wanted to know. “Could you tell me what you changed in your studying approach?”

Milly zipped her bag as she spoke, “It wasn’t really me, but I went to the student support services and they showed me different studying tips and methods.”

That had his attention. “...I see. Well, it seems to be working for you, so you’re on the right path. I’ll see you next week.”

“See you, Professor.” She exited his office.

Gyro turned around to his computer and stared at the emails from Donald he had left unopened.

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

What was Donald doing right that he couldn’t grasp? The thought drove him mad. It also drove him to be sitting as an observer for “Research Literacy,” watching Donald Duck give a presentation.

“Good afternoon! Now, raise your hand if you’ve written an essay with sources mostly taken from Wikipedia’s citations…”

The workshop had him floored. He was drawn in by Donald’s simple, yet engaging language. Gyro knew how to research, he had made a living of it, after all, but Donald managed to keep his interest throughout the entire workshop with a unique analogy or a silly joke.

Plus, it was just as interactive as he’d like to make his classes. Donald had asked the students to form groups and put the concepts to practice by giving them a random topic that they had to find five sources for. They were presented hypothetical, believable problems of when the literature for a topic was lacking or when a potential source was inaccessible, and he had guided the students to their own original solutions. Gyro was merely an observer, but he wished he could have partaken in the class activities and discussions. He was confined to the back, but he imagined the responses he would give in the group discussions, and the personal experiences he could share.

What wealth of knowledge did that duck have? He knew now that this was an opportunity he had once made the mistake of rejecting. When the students chattering faded dispersed from the class and joined the hallway, he made his move. Donald was still unplugging his laptop from the socket.

Gyro bolted towards Donald with a wild urgency. “You!"

"Me!" Donald exclaimed, pointing at himself.

Why didn’t you tell me before?!” he gasped between pants.

Donald tilted his head ever so slightly. “Tell you what?”

Gyro frowned. Did he have to spell it out to him? “You are good at teaching! Tell me your ways!”

At that, Donald’s bubbly demeanor dropped into something more serious. “Look, Gyro… I’m not a teacher. And the kind of content you teach in your lectures is leagues beyond what I can help you with.”

“B-but– I..”

With a guarded attitude, Donald picked up his planner and leafed through a few pages. “I’m sure there’s a workshop I can find for you to help you with your problem,” he spoke with an unusual air of distant professionalism.

"No, can't you see? It has to be you," Gyro said desperately. “I… am sorry for ignoring your advice earlier.”

Donald was moved by that. "You're sure you want me?"

Gyro nodded fiercely.

"Well, okay. Fine. Let's meet during lunch?"

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

Amidst the cafeteria’s droning conversations composed of students and staff alike, Gyro and his coach sat in a high-seated table for two by the windows across the salad bar.

Donald was reading his lecture notes in silence. With nothing else to do, Gyro noticed how the dust particles floating in the air took up the appearance of sparkles in the sunlight. They drifted around Donald, whose feathers shone a golden trim around his silhouette. It was because of the waterproof oil, he knew, but the sight was serene.

Then, their gazes connected. Gyro inhaled sharply, and he thought he saw Donald’s eyes widen. In a blink, the lecture papers were returned to his possession.

“The first thing that stood out to me is the timing of these activities. I’m not sure they will be finished as quickly as you think.”

“But I need them. If I lengthened one, there wouldn’t be enough time for the others,” Gyro argued.

Donald crossed his arms. “Right, ok. Do you need to cover all this material?”

“Of course I do. I am not cutting anything out.”

He sighed. “Then, we still need to make modifications. Let’s go back to the basics. What do you want your students to accomplish by the end of the lecture? It’s really important to set a learning objective.”

“On that thought, I should have the students write down these learning objectives at the end of my presentation.” Gyro noted his idea down, then he addressed him. “I see your point. Instead of disparate activities on each individual concept, perhaps I can have them analyse an experiment through guided discussions. This allows them to see it in application and discover them independently.”

“It’s not a bad idea, actually. That’s an inductive learning approach.” Donald looked him up and down. “Now that I think about it, it really suits your style.”

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

The second time they met, they shared lunch in Gyro's office.

Gyro paced back and forth, hand on his forehead. “I've tried everything I thought of! Prepared notes, giving examples, slowing my pace… but they still think my lectures are confusing.”

Donald, who had been eating and watching him pace, set down his sandwich. “I watched your lecture recordings last night. Here's what I think. First, you are trying to define an inertial frame using concepts they don’t understand yet. They don’t need to know about how it relates to absolute space-time and the Theory of Relativity at this stage. This is an introductory level class.”

“Right… so you're saying I should simplify even more. But how?” He pulled out the chair and sat down.

“Let me try. This is on Newtonian mechanics?” Donald cleared his throat. “Newtonian mechanics applies Newton’s Laws of Motion to a system of objects. Raise your hand if you know of Newton’s Laws of Motion.”

Gyro reluctantly raised his hand after a long stare from Donald.

“Good! Now, does anybody remember the three laws?” He paused, then spoke in a more casual voice, “Then you go through them, one by one. Including the formulae.”

He mimed a screen projector by outlining a rectangle in the air and pointed at imaginary examples within it. Continuing the demonstration, his voice picked up in volume and authority once again. “Let’s look at the formulae. As long as no force is acting on it, what do you notice about the velocity?”

“And here, you use the formulae to show that velocity is absolute, just as the law of inertia states. The students should be able to work it out themselves without you telling them directly. Then, ta-da! This is called an inertial frame of reference.”

“After that, you define ‘frame of reference,’” Donald spoke in his normal voice. “You can use an example, such as… if you’re standing on a high-speed train, then from your frame of reference, you aren’t moving. But to someone on the ground, you are moving quite fast,” he said. “Something like that. My high school physics knowledge is failing me right now.”

Gyro stared at him in awe. “That was… simple. It's exactly what I need.”

Donald combed a hand through his head feathers, tickled pink by the praise. "It's about accommodating for your audience," he said, "Not everyone thinks the same way. Some people have a harder time understanding complex, abstract concepts, so they need a more concrete base to work from."

Gyro nodded, and scribbled his words into a notepad.

Donald pointed a finger at him. "You are the expert. It's your job to know how to simplify it for these beginners."

"I thought I was simplifying. But I never thought to do it this way." He looked at Donald. “I never had an interest in teaching, I suppose. Did you take it as a degree?”

"Well, I've never completed university myself."

That grabbed Gyro's attention. "You didn't? Then how do you know about teaching?"

Donald shifted in his seat. "Ah, well. It was one of the many odd jobs I took back then. Tutor, substitute teacher, that thing."

"And you just picked all of this up from experience?"

Donald shrugged. "Mostly. I studied a little bit, but that kind of stuff is not my strong suit."

Gyro looked at him with surprise. "Then, perhaps, we have more in common than I thought."

#donro #kimowrites #donald duck #yeah that's the all the tags this first draft wip is getting.

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discoveriesoftheself · 2 years ago

Text

Curious Calico

Summary: Della gives Gyro a gift.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Word Count: 2,145

Also Available On AO3 !!!

"Della you know I hate-"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, glasses. Whatever. Just trust me for once, Gearloose."

Gyro and Della were… an odd friendship to say the least. Constantly going against each other, fighting almost daily, in all honesty, most people had assumed they hated each other. But if someone said something bad about one? The other would make sure you wouldn't be saying anything to anyone for a few days.

Della was… energetic. Sometimes too much so. At times when she was too hyper to really think through her decisions, Gyro would be able to calm her down. No one knew why, but hey, anything to stop Della from skydiving off the roof of the money bin.

The pair also shared an interest in science. More specifically, Gyro needed test subjects and Della was reckless. So at every mention of testing a new ray gun or appearance altering chemical, Della would be there without hesitation. This constantly had Gyro scared of hurting her, though he'd never admit he actually cared about her wellbeing, insisting he was only worried about getting fired.

And that dynamic was part of how they worked even now, as Della dragged Gyro (who couldn't see a thing, thanks to Della snatching his glasses) across the street.

"Trust has nothing to do with it! We're next to the highway, I could die! And don't pretend Mr. McDuck would appreciate having to replace another lab employee after last month's incident." He rambled on, frantically trying to see ahead of him, barely avoiding tripping on the curb.

"Oh please. Uncle Scrooge didn’t even like that guy. But I guess you're right," She started, no longer running. She placed Gyro's glasses back onto his face, letting go of his hand as he went to adjust them. "We're here anyways."

Fixing his glasses, Gyro shook his head, dizzy. Once his vision returned, he looked up, only to turn back towards Della, confused and annoyed.

"Della… Is there a reason we're at my apartment? You know I have plans that need to be finished, if this is another one of your 'self-care' attempts I'm going to-" He was cut off by Della slapping her hand over his beak.

"Oh shut it, G. It's only half a self-care attempt. I got you something. And before you start whining again, I already got Scrooge's permission to drag you away from your precious robots."

"I will have you know that those 'robots' are built to take care of smaller tasks around the lab and the bin, replacing the need for hired help. They'll save Mr. McDuck millions-"

"We get it. My best friend's a genius. Just go inside." She pushed him towards the door, grinning at the way he got visibly awkward when she called him 'her best friend'. She watched as he rolled his eyes and walked up to the door, making another teasing comment as he pulled out his keys. "But you know… If you actually took those self-care days maybe I wouldn't be so uhm… What was that word you used?"

"Adamant." Gyro sighed.

"Yeah, that! Wouldn't be so adamant about it. I know you always say you're the smart one but I don’t think I get enough credit for what I-" She was cut off by Gyro, sounding panicked.

"Why is this door unlocked?! I could've sworn I locked it this morning. No, I know I did-"

"Calm down, I probably just forgot to lock it."

"What do you mean you forgot to lock it, you haven't been over in more than a week. This could be a break-in!"

"Nah," She shrugged. "I was here this morning looking for something."

"I was in the lab last night, you wouldn't have been able to get in-"

"I picked the lock." She said, casually.

"You what?!" Gyro squawked.

Della just laughed, pushing past him and opening the door, walking into the apartment. "See? No one here. Just me, you're fine." She walked over and grabbed Gyro's hand again, pulling him in with her. As they entered, Gyro yanked his hand back, scoffing.

"You think you can just causally talk after admitting to breaking into my apartment?!"

"Yes?" She answered, laughing. "What are you gonna do? Call the cops? They barely trust you as is after that ray gun went off in the park. You know you really shouldn't test weapons near kids." Gyro rolled his eyes at the reprimanding, laughing quietly.

"Well, that kid was at least 8. Should've known not to touch the giant laser gun. Natural selection in my opinion." He started, smirking. "Wait, no! You can't pretend you didn't break into-"

"I'll pay you back! Jeez, calm down. Just go sit over there. I brought snacks." Della pushed him over to the couch before walking towards the kitchen. Gyro called after her.

"By 'brought' you mean 'left them here when you broke into my home this morning, right?"

"Yep!" She pushed things aside in the cabinets, pulling out the container she'd hid there earlier.

She walked back into the living room, ignoring the glare she felt in the back of her head. She slid the container onto the coffee table, then looked at her friend, expectantly.

Gyro opened the box and pulled out a cookie, looking at it hesitantly. "…Are they gluten free?"

"Well I wouldn’t try to kill you, would I?"

He stared at her silently, eyebrows raised.

"Okay, point taken. Yes, they are." Della insisted, putting her hands up and walking back to the kitchen. "Cherry blossom tea?"

"Yes, thank you." He sighed, accepting that, once again, the girl who barely understood basic algebra had managed to trick him. (Really, how did she keep doing that?)

The sizzling of the kettle on the stove mixed with the lack of sleep let the fog in his head get heavier, and he looked around the room tiredly.

His eyes settled on the closet door down the hall next to him, and he frowned. In that closet were the scrapbooks and cameras filled with memories from his childhood. Journals documenting his time in Tokyolk. He'd tossed them into boxes the second he got the offer to come work for the McDucks.

He never ended up unpacking them.

"Gearloose?"

"Hm?"

"Gyro!" Della waved a hand in front of his face, and Gyro startled, sitting up straight.

"Sorry, sorry. How long was I out?"

"Just a few minutes, how long have you been up?" She asked with false casualty.

Narrowing his eyes, Gyro sipped his tea, placing it down on the table before answering. "28 hours."

"Yeah, uh huh. Try again, Gearloose." She dropped the casualty, scoffing when she found Gyro pretending to be checking his texts. Snatching the phone from his hand, she dropped herself onto the couch next to him, ignoring his protests.

"Okay! 4 days or so, it's not so bad." He rolled his eyes, swatting away her hand that was reaching to mess up his hair.

"I'd normally lecture you-" Della started, before she was promptly cut off.

"I am well aware of the consequences-"

"But," She continued, shoving the mug of tea back into Gyro's hands to keep him quiet. "I know you don't want to hear it, and I kind of want you to be in a good mood for this, so…" She trailed off, standing and walking over to the hallway.

Gyro stood to follow her, eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Good mood for what? Where do you think you're going?" He heard the bathroom door open around the corner, and Della shouted back from down the hall.

"Stay in there! I got you a present!" She said excitedly, and the chicken frowned.

"Della, you know I'm not comfortable-"

"Don't worry! It wasn't expensive, not even by your standards, so it's not a handout, and you can take it guilt free!"

He didn't answer that, simply sighing and sitting back down. When Della didn’t come back for a minute, then five, and he became self aware of his hand tapping the arm of the couch, he called out to her again.

"Della what are you doing in there?"

"Hold on! Almost got it…" A clatter of something falling over had Gyro standing again. "Got it! Okay wait in there! And close your eyes!"

"This is ridiculous…" He muttered, but closed his eyes nonetheless. As he stood there, he heard Della rush into the room, and a heavy thud as she placed something on the table.

"Okay, I'm gonna just grab your hands, watch your step," She pulled him over to the table. "And just sit on the floor here."

She let go of his hands, and he knelt down. "Della if something explodes in my face I will personally make sure you never know another day of peace in your life."

"You and I both know that I have never known peace ever. Now shut up and open your eyes!"

…

"Della…"

"Don't you love it?!"

"This is a cat."

An answering high-pitched meow came from the crate on the table.

"I know! You're gonna love her I just know it! Come on, let her out!"

"What, is she rabid or something?"

"You really just have no faith in me, do you?"

Rolling her eyes, Della reached to the crate, unlatching the door and picking up the kitten with both of her hands.

It was a calico, no more than three weeks old, patches of brown and orange, a spot of white on its left ear.

"Come on, just hold her!" She put the kitten on Gyro's lap, moving his hands behind and over it, stopping it from jumping off.

Despite his comments, Gyro picked the cat up, cradling her in his hands and lifting her up to look at her.

"She's just like you, G. She can barely see, either!" Della laughed, trailing off when she didn't get an annoyed scoff or needlessly wordy joke in response.

"…Gyro? You good?"

He was holding the cat up to his chest as she stood up on her back legs, resting her front paws on his face.

"Well aren't you just a curious thing…" He muttered. "Della?"

"Yeah?"

"Why?"

"Well I figured you had to talk to someone and ya keep ignoring my offers to set you up with a therapist. Plus you mentioned a few months ago that you had a cat growing up so I figured you'd probably want one of those over a dog. But anyways I cleared some paperwork and if you're not doing anything crazy dangerous for once she can come into the lab to keep you from getting overwhelmed and stuff, Uncle Scrooge is fine with it."

She smiled widely, watching her best friend's face morph as she spoke, from confusion to shock to (though he'd never admit it) a sort of sad smile.

"You broke into my apartment…"

"Yes."

"Tore me away from my projects…"

"Yep."

"For a cat."

"For you." She insisted. "So hurry up and say something so I know whether I should hug you or start running."

She watched only slightly anxiously as Gyro stared at her for another moment before bursting out laughing. His hands shot up to cover his mouth as he laughed, leaving the cat on his lap to jump onto the coffee table. She lied down on the table, tilting her head at the chicken curiously.

"You-" Gyro spoke through his laughs, finally calming his breathing. "You're insane, you know that?" He sighed.

"Thank you, Della."

"I'm sorry? Did I just get the first ever 'thank you' out of the Gyro Gearloose?"

"I take it back." He said, completely deadpan.

"Okay, okay. You're welcome nerd."

He smiled again, watching as the cat curled up back in his lap now that he'd calmed down.

"Where did you find her?"

"Gladstone's cat had kittens, this one ended up stowing away in my bag. You tend to not question anything that happens at Gladstone's place."

"Makes sense, I suppose." He hummed.

"Anyway…" Della sang, "Mochi here is gonna watch over you and keep you sane when I'm not there to do it for her."

"Watch your- wait what did you call her?" He squawked, looking at her with something akin to disappointment.

"Mochi!" She laughed. "You know, since you… lived in Japan…" She trailed off, pouting. "You never like my jokes."

"You're terrible." Gyro said, hiding (and failing) to hide his laugh.

"Aw, you love me!" She threw herself into his side, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him. She laughed out an apology as Mochi jumped onto the arm of the couch to avoid her arms.

"Get off of me, Della, you're crushing me!" He complained, but hugged her back anyway, not bothering to hide his smile anymore.

Mochi looked at them from the arm of the couch, and tilted her head again.

They really were an odd friendship, weren't they?

#Ducktales #Ducktales DOTS #Gyro Gearloose #Della Duck #DOTS Fics #DOTS AU #This has not been edited in over 2 years but I wanted to give you guys something after disappearing #More kids character intros coming tomorrow probably

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quantumlogician · 21 days ago

Note

And lo and behold, Starscream is in Shockblast's personal space yet again. He carefully balances an egg on his helm. "Earth holidays confuse me, so now I must confound you."

" Here I thought Megatron lost his good nut and here you are following in this pedesteps. "

The egg will balance because his damn helm is flat and his gyros are top tier, but what the fuck.

Gearing up the egg he received previous, he readied his aim, " I'm gonna' shove this into your mouth. Hold still. "

#✧ ic — shockblast #✧ ask #sparktookflight

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theboysfromaustin · 1 year ago

Text

June 3, 2010

Gav and Kazuo were awakened by the unpleasant sensation of something hot and wet hitting them.

That, and a choking, groaning sound.

Gav sat up, confused. Kazuo, having been a bartender, immediately knew what it was, and shook himself off like a dog, spattering everything around him, “Ian?” “What is this?” Gav sniffed at a spot on his shoulder, then immediately started retching. “Uh-uh, no. Gav, bathroom. It's vomit, and we don't need to add to it. Go hose yourself off. Ian?”

From the bathroom, a hideous, guttural noise. “Well, he's down.” “Ew, ew, ew!” Gav rushed into the bathroom, skidding on vomit with a screech, “HOLY JESUS, IT'S EVERYWHERE.” Kazuo sighed, attaching his leg, and began to strip the bed while Ian and Gav were preoccupied, “Hey, Ian? Do you know why you're sick? I have an idea…”

Ian responded by continuing to uneat. Kazuo stuffed everything haphazardly into the laundry hamper as Gav gagged in the shower. Ian had his head planted firming in the toilet, body heaving. Kazuo grabbed a towel, wiping himself off, “Heeeeyyy, Ian, how ya doin?” “HUARGH.” “Alright, understandable. Maybe you could have tried to get out of bed.” “UWAAAAAAAARGH.”

Kazuo nodded, “Mmm, yeah. Uh, so, I have a pretty good idea why you're puking.” Ian raised his head, voice hoarse and shaky, “Don't say it.” “I'm gonna say it.” “Don't wanna hear it…” “Well, you're immobilized, so….maybe you made a mistake with your food earlier.” “....You guys aren't sick…” Gav exited the shower, toweling off, retching at the lingering smell, “Dude, we didn't drop our fucking gyros.”

“....Didn't wanna walk all the way back to the cart….hurk….” “You ate street meat.” “You're the only one among us with a degree, you're the smart one.” “Urk….” His body heaved again, Kazuo grimacing and reaching over to flush. Gav leaned down, “You empty?” “I've thrown up things I haven't even eaten yet…”

“Are you going to eat food that you've dropped on Sixth Street again?” “Noooo. Ugh, my gut….” “Yeah, you're gonna hurt,” Gav wiped Ian's face, “C'mon, let's get you back to bed, it's, uh….” “9 AM, you're a vomit alarm clock.” “Nnnh…” Ian shakily got to his feet, Kazuo leading him to the bare bed. “Where…?” “You puked on the linens. And everything else. Gav, grab blankets.”

Ian flopped into bed, shivering, “I'm hot.” “I know, that's part of why I'm so attracted to you. Also, you probably have a fever.” Gav draped a blanket over him, “You need to stay in bed until your body expels the evil.” “What the fuck germs did I pick up?” “It was Sixth Street, you don't want to think about it.”

Gav retrieved the bucket from under the sink and dropped it next to Ian, “This is your best friend for however long this takes.” Ian stared at it, bleary-eyed, drew his head back, and missed the bucket. “.....Man, there aren't even any sheets to pull up.” “Okay,” Kazuo sighed, “You are a fucking nightmare. Gav, get him into Anders’ old bed with the bucket. I will clean this.”

“Thaaaaank….” Ian stumbled after Gav. “Dude, we're running out of beds, and we can't put you on the couch, because if it absorbs any more filth, it's gonna become sentient.” Ian crawled into the bed and immediately passed out, exhausted by vomiting. Gav tucked him in and went back to Kazuo, “Alright, this is grosser than the colonoscopy prep.” “Oh, I know. But this is part of relationships. Sickness and in health, even if your partner did something moronic.”

“How long’s this take?” “Few days? A week?” “I don't know if I can handle a week of this.” “We gotta,” Kazuo shrugged, “I mean, he took care of me when I had over 200 stitches, when I couldn't walk unassisted. This is nothing.” The dulcet sounds of vomiting were heard from the other room. “Almost nothing. And maybe he'll learn not to add Sixth Street flavor to his meals,” Kazuo threw the rags in the hamper, and started kicking it down the hall. “I can take -” “Nah,” Kazuo booted the basket down the stairs, where it dumped soiled linens, “Huh, not what I wanted.”

“Are you going to cause problems while he's down?” “Yup,” Kazuo made it to the bottom, kicking things towards the laundry room, “Alright, gonna need some badass music to clean to.” “You'd better not be -” Kazuo entered the kitchen and hopped on the countertop, climbing on the window to grope around on top of the cabinets. He grinned, snagging an album.

“No.” “Yes,” Kazuo threw it on the turntable, the saccharine strings of My Heart Will Go On playing. “He should have destroyed it.” “He's not evil, and I am, so laundry time!” Upstairs, Ian had a Pavlovian response to hearing Celine Dion and vomited. So, this is how it would be -

Everyone would suffer until this was over.

#oc #original character #tw vomit #vomit tw

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nifuunbakufuun · 1 year ago

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002 - Varied Movesets

>> translator's note: 'bakphoon' is sinnohian for 'typhlosion'.

This is only my second one? I could have sworn... ah, well. There will be more to come as I go. Unfortunately, I will not be able to pick up the Rowlet until much later tonight... but that is alright. More time to finish this.

Note that this will likely receive a major update in the future! A certain photographer has offered to capture images of Nifūn demonstrating his attacks.

Additionally, this is simply my regurgitating raw data. There's no point or lesson I'm trying to make with this.

Currently, the most up-to-date set of naturally learnable moves by standard-breed Bakphoon consists of, primarily:

Fire attacks (Ember, Flame Wheel, Flame Charge, Lava Plume, Flame Thrower, Inferno, Overheat, Eruption)

Normal moves (Tackle, Leer, Smoke Screen, Quick Attack, Defense Curl, Swift, Double-Edge)

Additionally, the current primary lineage* learns Gyro Ball (Steel) and Rollout (Rock).

Currently my own Pokemon, Nifūn, is settled at the estimated battle-level of 75, meaning that any new innate Move discovery is unlikely to happen. I would love to see what it would be if he did, though...

Prior to Evolution, he knew the moves: Tackle, Leer, Smoke Screen, Ember, Quick Attack, Flame Wheel, Defense Curl, and Swift.

Through the course of his training after his Evolution, he learned 6 moves**:

Hex (Ghost) immediately upon Evolution***

Flame Charge (Fire)

Flame Thrower (Fire)

Hyakki Yakō (Ghost) also known as Infernal Parade

Shadow Ball (Ghost)

Overheat (Fire)

Notably, he did not gain the innate knowledge to use Double-Edge; and the move Hyakki Yakō is (by all accounts) entirely unique to the Hisuian Bakphoon lineage. If I can remember which sketchbook I included it in, I would attach a drawing I made of it... it is quite the interesting move to observe, though! He appears to summon spirits to attack the opposing Pokemon; quite unlike Shadow Ball, which is a simple gather and release of energy.

I am still researching the significance of this. However, considering I only have one Bakphoon, additional research subjects are required.

Finally, PokeCenter scanning revealed his ability to utilize several more unique moves, if taught by a TM or special tutor. Specifically, moves it can learn that standard Bakphoon cannot. TM Moves of note include:

Mystical Fire, Ominous Wind, Confuse Ray, Night Shade, Spite, Poltergeist, Calm Mind, Iron Tail, and Drain Punch.

Interestingly, there are moves that standard Bakphoon has that it does not have access to! What stood out to me specifically were Rock Tomb, Fling, and Throat Chop.

Again, please see the link above if you or somebody you know has a Hisuian Bakphoon! There's only so much I can do limited to just my starter Pokemon.

*Data pulled comes from the most common/primary lineage of raised Starter Bakphoon and only moves they learn naturally. Certain behaviors, for example, were not classified as proper Moves until modern times.

**He also knows the move Iron Tail. However, that was specifically taught, not a naturally-learned ability.

***He then promptly mistakenly used it on me, sending me to very awkwardly explain things to my doctor.

#((OOC note: I'm using a mix of LA and SCVI for Hisuian data))#ishii's research logs

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citadelofmythoughts · 1 year ago

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I lied. I'm reblogging one more time with an excerpt because this scene is important to me and I'm proud of it, dammit!

“Okay.” she whispered. “We need to be super quiet. Just follow me and stay low. This late in the day there aren’t many people around so we should be okay.”

“This isn’t gonna get us expelled is it? That’d be embarrassing to tell my folks.”

She grabbed my hand and smiled lovingly at me. “You definitely worry too much. Now come on.”

Shortly we reached our goal, one of the Atlesian-model six-person shuttles. “In here.” She whispered as she opened the hatch. Once inside she spoke normally. “Okay, almost done. Get comfy while I practice my acting skills.”

“You are a really strange girl. You know that, don’t you?”

“You wouldn’t have me any other way and you know it. Now hush.”

She sat in the pilot’s seat and picked up the radio handset. “Beacon Control, this is Shuttle B-niner, requesting permission for a flight test. Need to test the gyros.”

“Shuttle B-9 this is Beacon Control. I need your course and flight duration.”

Erica read off some coordinates that I couldn’t follow and then there was a slight pause before the controller spoke again. “Roger, B-niner. Permission granted. Have a good flight.”

As the engines hummed to life and the shuttle headed toward the hangar exit. I felt I had to bring up an important point. “Um, Erica?”

“Yesss?” she said sweetly.

“We’re not supposed to leave the campus.”

“We’re not. Just relax.”

“We’re in a shuttle and going upwards.You must have a very different definition of ‘leaving’ than I do.”

“Beacon airspace is still considered to be part of the campus, Sandy.” she said as she flicked a couple of switches. “There, the autopilot is on. We’re just going to keep circling until I turn it off.”

“You’re cute when you’re devious.” I said with a laugh that was interrupted by her pouncing on me and kissing me roughly. “I take that back.” I said as I took a quick breath. “You’re hot!”

Erica held on to my shoulders as she looked into my eyes adoringly. “You mean it, don’t you?”

I kissed her this time. Not as forcefully as she did with me but gently. Letting her know exactly how attractive I thought she was. “Of course I mean it. You’re incredible.” I said softly.

I saw a shadow pass across her eyes. “What is it?”

She smiled and shook her head. “It’s nothing. Or at least nothing that I want to talk about right now. For now, I just want to spend time with you. Just us. No training, no teammates, no danger.”

I found the latch to lower the back of the seat down and pulled her on top of me as the seat reclined. “I love that idea.” and I let myself get serious for a moment. “But you’re not getting up until you tell me what’s wrong. Didn’t we promise ‘no secrets’?”

She sighed and didn’t even try to pull away as she relaxed on top of me. “It’s no secret. I’m just worried. Worried that we’re too different.”

I was really confused by her words but only for a second. “Oh…is this about..?”

She rested her head on my chest. “Yeah…I know you keep saying it doesn’t matter but how can it not?”

I kissed the top of her head and gently caressed her back. “Babe, it doesn’t matter. I swear it doesn’t. You’re a girl, you’re *my* girl and anyone who says otherwise doesn’t know what they’re talking about.”

I could feel a dampness on my shirt and realized that she was crying. “I…I believe you.”

I lifted her head up so I could look into her dazzling green eyes. “Do you trust me though?”

She smiled through her tears. “With my heart and with my life.”

We kissed again and then we cuddled as much as the shuttle’s seat would allow. “I love you, Erica. Now want to tell me what brought all this up?”

There was an awkward silence before she started talking. “Well, I suppose you were wondering how I know how to fly one of these things.”

I blushed. “Um…sure, I’ve been pondering the possibilities this whole time.”

“You didn’t even think about it until now did you?”

“Nope.”

She laughed. “I know how because my family had something similar and my father started training me on how to fly it. He told me that it was important for his…son to know how all the machines on the ranch worked.” I felt her body shudder at the memory. “I was thirteen when I told my parents.”

I took her hand in mine. “I’m guessing it didn’t go well.”

“That’s…an understatement. They had a grand vision of me being the heir to all their hopes and dreams. But those dreams didn’t involve a daughter.”

“That’s horrible, I can’t believe parents would do that to their child.”

She smiled fondly at me and touched my cheek. “That’s because your parents are amazing, loving people. Just the brief amount of time I spent with your mom was more love and affection than I ever got from my folks.”

“Mom likes you, Ma does too. In fact, they tease me about you, even more than they teased Rose about Ori.”

She looked away from me, blushing. “It’s nice to know that I have their approval.” Then she sighed. “Dammit, this is not how I planned things to happen, I’m sorry.”

“You wanted us to spend some time alone together and we are. I think it was a great plan.”

“Even if I’ve spent most of it crying in your arms? I was trying to get your mind off of things for a while.”

I pulled her closer to me. “And you did. You matter to me. Erica. You matter a *lot* and I want to know everything you’re willing to share with me. Honestly, I’m amazed at how strong you are, to go through all of that and still be as kind as you are.”

“I’m..not as strong as you think I am.” she said bitterly. “I hate them…I hate my family. I know I should be better than that but they were perfectly happy to ruin my life in order to have their pathetic little legacy.”

“I can’t pretend to know how you’re feeling but I don’t think anyone, least of all me, would blame you for that. I’m so angry on your behalf but…”

“But?”

“You have a new family here with us. I know things started a little rough with the team, well with Nori specifically, but I know they’d do anything for you. Rose and Ori too and my parents.”

I felt her lay her head on my shoulder. “And you?”

There was a lump in my throat as I answered that simple question. “I love you, I love you more than I thought I could love anyone. As crazy as things have gotten, you’ve been my rock, the one absolute certainty in my life.”

Erica’s eyes widened at my candor. “I’m not used to you being this serious but I feel the same way. There isn’t a doubt in my mind that I’m in love with you, Sandy Xiao Long.”

This time when we kissed there was an undercurrent that wasn’t there before. Something had changed, something important. It was still loving and playful but it was also more. It was a promise.

Suddenly we were shocked out of our embrace by the Beacon flight controller coming through on the radio. “Shuttle B-9. You’ve been in flight for half an hour. Everything okay up there?”

Erica scrambled out of my arms and into the pilot’s seat. “Uh…Roger Beacon. The tests took longer than anticipated.” she glanced shyly at me. “But everything checks out. Heading back to the barn.”

As she disconnected I gripped her hand. “This was the best thing you could have done for me, you know. I didn’t worry about what Nori and Kenzie were up to for almost thirty minutes.”

She laughed as she disengaged the autopilot and headed back to the hangar. “Let’s hope they don’t give you new reasons to worry.”

This isn't something I usually do but I made some changes to Chapter 9. I decided I didn't want a sparring match between SREN and ORCD and instead expanded the chapter and gave Erica and Sandy some time alone.

#my writing #SREN #rwby #bumbleby

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goatpaste · 3 years ago

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Scuss me pardon me having a lil crazy moment where i think about Diego Brando in my rewrite ideas too hard...

specifically on the idea of, even tho im hard sold on base world Diego's stand just being Scary Monsters,,, I do love the idea of a bit of the world being dormant in there. Not to a point that Diego can control it or possess it as his stand, as Scary Monsters is HIS stand. But these weird high stress moments he finds himself in frozen time with nothing but adrenaline run instinct to do what he needs to do in 5 seconds.

throwing the rest of the notes on this lil comic idea and sorta rewrite thoughts under the cut <3

But generally the idea of Lucy is traveling with Diego and HP to keep her safe from the presidents goons and whatever. Then one finds out that Lucy has been harboring the heart of the holy corpse (without anyone fully realizing it quite yet) and are making an approach to get her. This isn't the first or last time to happen on their trip, so HP and Diego have ultimately decided to pass Lucy off to Johnny and Gyro hoping to throw people off their trail.

However their exchange is interrupted by the most recent stand user set to get them. The fight nearly ends with Johnny and Lucy's death, but something in Diego snaps. He hasn't felt this panic of seeing an oncoming death he cannot stop since his mothers death. Oh god if only he was closer, just give him a few more seconds and he can get to them. she doesn't have to die please just a few more seconds. Not even know why he wishes for time to freeze, a oddly specific thought. Yet there he stood in frozen time, not all of his control. this isnt a skill from his Scary Monsters he has to assume, but it does feel like its something from inside of him... A growing ache, a need he's never known before blooming inside, and it has a 5 second timer.

Diego can never explain what happened, and as confusing as it was i dont think he ever would. there a chance it wont ever happen again. it might've been his power, but it wasnt. not truly. not in this lifetime...

But it doesn't matter because Lucy is safe. This a moment of growth to move away from the selfish behavior he has formed over the years. Digging deep into something untouched within him just to save her.

just mmm thinkin about Diego who is learning to care about others and his power growing and developing on the fact that he wants to use control not just for himself, but for those around him. he wants to keep the people he cares about safe, because he finally has people he cares about again.

#comics #steel ball run #jjba au #jojo #jjba #diego brando #lucy steel #johnny joestar #hot pants #sbr rewrite

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crying-fantasies · 2 years ago

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You and Me in a different way (pt. 7-8)

Synopsis: Stands are the reflection of your soul, they show want you try to hide or feel, how do their Stands react to you or your own Stand? How would they react to your child, the combination of your bodies and souls?

Warnings: implied childbirth, parenthood and some problems that come with it, self doubt, very old music, some fluff.

Johnny Joestar

Johnny: Tusk

You: Ghost Riders in the sky

Result: Love is Strange

Many were quite surprised when the only remaining son of the Joestar household returned to the state on his own feet, with his former fiance at his side and the tittle of being one of winners of the race.

Being totally honest, the moment when you kissed Johnny you really believed that that was it, you were going to die and it was just going to be the end of it all.

But Johnny returned for you, helping you at the last second when a bullet almost ended with you.

And now here you are, next to him, making vows in a church in order to have him inherit the money from his father.

Johnny promised a portion to you, what his father did to your family was wrong and that money belonged to you, you two were supposed to get a divorce shortly after all the process ended and the two of you got your respective money.

"So you two are only doing such a sacred vows in front of god to have money" Gyro, even with so many wounds, laughed in your face, "of course you two would do that"

"Well, that was the plan, but now..."

"What? After so long you two finally ignited the fire of love-?"

"I'm possibly... You know"

"What do you mean that I know? Wait, do you mean that 'you know'?!"

What were the odds that now you two were expecting a child? That was the exact reason why you and Johnny were in the same hospital where Gyro was, only to be totally clear about it.

Of course, you two knew the whole process of making a baby, you two made it after all, at least the first night because it was customary and you two needed to show proof of the consumption of the marriage.

But, yet again, who could have thought that you two only needed to do it once to get a baby when other couples keep struggling for years only for a bit of hope.

Who knows? But it was innegable, the changes, even your stand started to change.

Before Johnny saw in multiple occasions how your whole body was consumed by flames, almost all your meat gone, and now you couldn't use your stand, not matter what happened.

"Watch out!" Johnny put his arm in front of you in a protective response after seeing how some bandits stole from a young couple, he looked at you fast, fearing that in your state your stand would appear to kill and eat the souls of those bastards.

"What?" You asked at his horrified face, there were no changes in your body or expression.

"I mean, are you okay?"

"Why shouldn't I?"

It was a great change, one that really surprised him, because the normal you, after awakening your stand, would be running like a mad demon after them to eat their souls.

But now you just looked at him with confusion.

Ghost Riders in the Sky stopped working for the first time since you got it.

Johnny thought that you were sick or something but the doctor found nothing strange on you and there was only one person who knew about stands that you both knew.

"Johnny, I'm not a fucking doctor"

"Gyro, this is serious, what if it is something bad?"

"You're telling me that this pause of the bloody massacre is something bad?"

Apparently it was only temporary because a few months later you attacked a burglar that entered your house, Johnny was shocked to wake up to some horrified screams and a familiar roar just to almost have a heart attack when he noticed that you weren't on your side of the bed.

He was running as fast as he could only to find you with a happy face and an unknown man dead on the floor next to you, your usual form in fire was different, you were still on fire of course but he could see through you, he could see your bones, your beating heart.

He could see your child, growing.

For a moment Johnny thought that he was going crazy, but he felt as you were the most beautiful living being, blood and infernal fire be damned.

In that very same moment, he realized that he just wanted to be there for you, not only for the kid, so when you noticed Johnny near you believed that he was going to scold you for this but he took your face on his hands before kissing you deeply.

The previous plan be damned, you two weren't going to get a divorce.

Ghost Riders in the Sky was a three entity stand, all of them showing big fangs in their skulls, all of them menacing with only their presence.

Johnny would lie if he said that your stand didn't scare him even now if he found them in the middle of the night.

But at least now he kept his screaming in his head, because it was now normal to find Ghost Riders in the Sky near the crib of the baby like some kind of guardian dogs.

The first time that he found your stand there he screamed, the baby screamed, and your stand roared.

Tusk, for another part, didn't show a lot, most for the fact that Johnny still felt that it could be dangerous, what if his baby touched Tusk and resulted injured?

"That's bullshit and you know it"

"But it could happen!"

"Johnny, for the Corpse's sake, the baby is totally fine with a three presence murderous and horrible stand, what could Tusk possible do when all it say is 'chumimin'?!"

Johnny let's Tusk near the baby after that, but the stand only watched how the baby tried to touch it, apparently the little human being could see it and after many tries it also got to touch it without problem.

You two were quite sure that something strange was lurking in the baby's nursery, but none of you could see it just yet.

"Tusk, What you got there?"

"Chumimin"

And then one day Tusk appeared in the living room with a pink thing with wings and holding it like a cat, then holding it high to all to see.

Your kid looked a lot like Johnny, and their stand looked a lot like Tusk when it was only a little thick like thing.

You weren't sure if you wanted to laugh or to cry, especially with the face of your husband when Tusk left the little stand with him, just in his arms, a face quite similar to when Johnny first saw Tusk on his first form.

You ended up doing both while your poor baby in your lap didn't understood why you were laughing so hard or why their father had that face.

"I mean, it will change like you, right?" Johnny was looking at his stand, hope in his eyes, only to have Tusk looking to other place that wasn't him, "right?"

"There is no stand that is exactly like the other" you told him when your laughter finally ended.

Having a kid with a stand was an interesting topic of talk between you two.

No one was sure with what it could come tomorrow, all that it did so far was moving from one place to another with the little wings that it got, going to it's limits when your kid decided to run and the poor stand needed to go after them.

It couldn't make things spin like Tusk on it's first stages, and it was obvious that it couldn't lit fire on the owner's body, much to Johnny's relief.

So, what it could do was still a mystery.

That was before your kid's 6th birthday.

And the little thing also changed, or, how to say it? It did kind of matured.

It was bigger now, it was still pink with some stars here and there and black details, it could also use those now big wings to move around without problem.

It started to look a lot more humanoid too, to which Johnny was relieved to some point even if he never got to say it out loud.

You two just let your kid choose what kind of path they would take, be it with their personal life or how they handled their stand.

Ironically they took it to another degree.

Your kid would just let their stand be, and Love is Strange had an interesting way of solving things if it got too difficult between people.

"You two said that I could do whatever I wanted with my stand"

"When we told you that we never thought that you would make people fall in love with random people" Maybe your kid and it's stand had a twisted way of seeing romance, because it wasn't normal for a woman on her twenties to kiss a cat or to have an old couple want to divorce after a simple argument.

"We were just trying to help!"

Love is Strange had the unusual ability to make people show their inner feeling and emotions, and things without filter didn't end well, since a boy declaring his undying love for his childhood friend to a girl telling her supposed best friend how much she hated her.

It always ended in trouble.

But your kid saw all of that like romantic love or pure hate, there was no gray area, is you liked something then it was love, is you had a little disappointing feeling then it was hate.

"In what problem did the two of us landed on?"

"Talk for yourself, Joestar, you were the one that said to just let them be"

"How could I have predict this to happen?!"

It would take time and also multiple examples to show how relationship worked to your kid, but hey! Not everything was lost, they were still young so there couldn't be so many problems, right?

"Now everybody loves me!" Shouted your kid on top of two big men's shoulders with a big group of people behind them.

"Wait a second! This isn't what we talked before!"

While Johnny tried to stop your infant child you only took place next to Over the Rainbow, your horse, trying to look at the sunset near the stables while hearing your husband and kid shouting.

Oh well, they were still young, they would learn, with time.

Josuke Higashikata (Gappy)

Josuke: Soft & Wet

You: Stairway to Heaven

Result: Poison

Let's be honest, this only happened because Josuke wanted to make you happy, like he was in debt with you.

Because after so many years he still felt that strange force, something that was calling him to be near you, to took your hand on his and hug you forever.

Yoshikage Kira was a crazy bastard that was obsessed with you, that was in love with you, and apparently that rubbed on the guy.

Josuke even got as far to follow you to the Marine Corp HQ, leaving his adoptive family and his little town.

"I need the money to help Holly-san" that was his answer after you asked him what he was doing there.

You just let him be, doing your usual chores, having to take care of the newbie that wanted your help specifically.

"I'm starting to believe that this is strange, a lot"

And you tried to put a lot of space between you two, a lot, some other officers would make fun of you two, especially when Josuke spent his free time after you, but you would resist this, it was just so strange, you just kept doing your usual business while holding the green pendant, remembering once again that even when Yoshi wasn't there anymore you didn't wanted anything to do with other man so soon.

That's exactly what you told Josuke, so he waited, and waited, he even saw how you got many other romantic relationships that ended with you still looking for that special someone.

But your special someone was already 3 feet under ground.

"Officer!" oh, and some pieces of that said man were still following you around.

Maybe it was his persistence, his hard as rock head that didn't get the message even when you told him several times to go home.

Josuke didn't hear any of that, and it showed it's results when he kissed you, finally, and also when you received a ring on your finger.

"I saw this coming a mile away"

"I was expecting it to take longer!"

"More than 8 years?"

Your fellow comrades laughed at you two, specially when both required a temporary leave from the force.

Josuke was happy and he knew that you could also feel the same feelings even when you tried to hide them in the deepest parts of you.

His family was kind of exalted when he finally showed you to them, not believing that the sweet and kind Josuke got engaged to such a war dog as you, but they welcomed you with open arms either way.

The process was smooth, maybe too much, and in place of made you remember of Yoshikage you just saw the man in front of you that go on with his life calling himself Josuke.

And that same Josuke asked you to marry him even when he was still struggling with the whole concept.

"Are you really sure?" Maybe it was a hypocrisy to ask him that now when you already accepted the ring and everything, but Josuke was like that, many years would go by and he still acted like the world and every meaning were a new thing.

"Of course!" He had that decision in his strange looking eyes, you were in the bed, just looking at the ring on your hand before he took place next to you, his face on the crook of your neck, leaving a kiss there that made you look at him in surprise, he had moments like that and it always got that response from you, "it means that we both are going to be together forever, right?"

Together till one gets killed in action or by some other thing, or maybe a divorce, but you weren't going to tell him that.

You told that to Soft & Wet and the stand would only look at you, you didn't know why it started to look at you so much in the recent years, it made you remember of Killer Queen, it also did the same back in the day, could it be that Soft & Wet also got something from Killer Queen? And of all things it was that intense gaze over you? Oh well, at least Soft & Wet eyes were less creepy than the other stand.

Josuke looked at his stand trying to interact with you, or only looking at you like you were some kind of art, and he also wanted to have that.

"It's a bad idea"

"I just want to try"

Stairway to Heaven wasn't the most good looking stand or the less threatening in appearance, but you couldn't say if S&W showed any emotion, it was a robot after all, but it didn't show any adversity even when STH growled at it.

Ironic how life is and goes because there comes the moment when you had to sit with Josuke to explain him what a baby is, because apparently he knew all about the whole process but no one in the Higashikata family ever talked to him about parenthood.

"They told me that I needed to be careful, that after getting married it was fine to have sex and that it's good for a happy marriage"

"..."

"But they told me that they would talk about babies later"

"..."

You looked at the Higashikata men with your worst intentions, apparently they forgot about that tiny and insignificant detail, but well, it already happened.

Josuke would really be that kind of father in training that is continuously asking other father's experience while taking notes, and he hears something that repeats a lot.

"Babies with stands are difficult"

"What were you expecting?"

Ironic, once again, how Josuke's words ended up being your reality when the kid was finally born, it was like any other, and it only showed that you two would never be ready for a kid.

Many discussions referring to the child, not in a bad tone, more like...

"Go to sleep, you need it more..."

"No, I'll stay with them till they sleep, you go rest"

"Okay, I'll..."

"... I can't believe that you really just decided to go!"

"You told me to do it!"

Something like that.

It got worse when Josuke noticed a little needle in the floor while he got his child with him to the living room, maybe you started to use it for something? He wasn't sure so he just took it to prevent any accident.

His legs didn't respond to him and if he didn't use a big bubble he would have fallen to the floor with his child in arms, you found him later in that very same position.

"I'm home"

"Welcome back, okaa-san"

"Josuke, I've already told you that it isn't necessary to call me- Are you okay?!" You tried to run to him, not putting on your indoors shoes and accidentally stepping on another needle, you fell next to him in another bubble.

What a great way to discover your kid's stand, isn't it?

Not any bubble or explosion, no fire or steel, your kid's stand, which you still have yet to see, left little black poisoned needles around the house.

Delightful.

You are about to really freak out, but Josuke is totally fine with that.

"Okay"

"Okay? What do you mean by okay?!"

"That it's fine"

"?!"

Josuke really is the kind of father that approves any shit that the his kid does.

That would explain, in part, why your kid, now a teenager, ended up like in that way.

"Why are you so late?" You catched your child coming in the middle of the night back home, after hours of waiting for them and overstressing yourself.

"I just got caught in some business" they were obviously lying, looking anywhere for their father to come and save them from your rage.

"Ha, now it's called business"

"Okaa-san, that's enough" oh good, now Josuke was there, your child eyes looked at him like he was their salvation.

"Father!"

"Don't meddle in this, Josuke"

"What an interesting thing to say, you did the very same thing when younger"

"?!"

Of course, Josuke always talks about how much your child resembles you, saying that he loves that so much.

If someone get to say that his child looks a lot like him then he would say that that's wrong and that they resembled you more, he really believes it even when everyone looks at him like he is blind.

He even says that Poison, your kid's stand, looks exactly like Stairway to Heaven, and well, that's true.

"I love so much that you and your okaa-san are so similar"

"We don't!" of course you both responded at the same time in the same way, and that is enough to make him happy for the rest of the afternoon.

Overall, Josuke would be the kind of cool dad, one that just loves to see similitudes in you and your kid, making him feel like he is ready for another one, he might ask you so that very same moment, not caring who is near to hear.

"Okaa-san"

"What is it, Josuke?" Now you just let him call you like he wanted.

"Can we have another baby?"

"Dad, so gross!"

Oh dear, maybe it was time to tell his blessing how babies were made.

#reader insert #x reader #joestar family #jojo x reader #josuke x reader #jjba sbr #jojo gappy #jojo johnny #jjba jojolion #gappy higashikata #gappy x reader #johnny joestar #jjba gappy

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shychick-52 · 2 years ago

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Ok so SO much of that came flooding back from when you told me ages ago XD I am absolutely LOVING THIS. EEEE, it's so FUN that Mads has his own Fenton now! LOVE IT. XD

I do have some more questions, and I can't remember if I asked you them before?

So, Mads and Fenton pretty much went from fighting to wanting to have sex pretty much right away?? XD At first, was it just them being horny for each other? (I can't remember, is Mads demisexual/romantic?) How long did it take for them to actually get to know each other and care about each other on a deeper level?

How did Mads feel about his feelings for NFenton after loving (to the point where he was downright obsessed with) and needing Gyro for so long? Conflicted, terrified relieved (relieved in the sense that now there was less a chance of him selfishly- even tho accidentally, as always- hurting Gyro again)? So much of Mads' existence, motivations, and goals were defined by Gyro himself- which is tragically ironic, because even tho Mads prided himself on being his own person- so even tho it didn't change one bit how much he still *cared* about Gyro and wanted the world for him, how would you say it still changed his feelings for Gyro, how he saw him, and their relationship Did it make things between them even more complicated (because a lot of Mads' frustration comes from him trying to figure out their complicated relationship, including the guilt for how much he's hurt Gyro and can't seem to stop when he knows he loves him and wants him to be happy, is that correct???) or did it clear up a lot of that confusion and frustration?

How did Gyro (and Fenton) feel about it? Happy, I imagine, that Gyro found someone else to love (for his sake as much as their own peace of mind XD)? I think you also mentioned that Gyro was maybe feeling a little worried about him (being hurt, maybe?) And how does he (and Fenton, for that matter) feel knowing that Mads is so into somebody who has no qualms about causing suffering to others?

What does Gyro think of NFenton, and vice-versa?

How do Gyro and Fenton feel about their Negaverse counterparts ad vice-versa?

How do Gyro and Fenton (especially Gyro) feel about and interact with Blue? ALSO, how does Gyro feel when he found out his Negaverse self actually had all the clones killed off (I mean, Gyro felt guilty when he realized in MDT that he was wrong to not care enough about his clones to make more time for searching for them, so did it make him reflect back on that guilt for whatever reason? Mind you, I know he wouldn't have been "Wow, I wasn't so bad then", because Gyro probably knew his own attitude was still wrong)?

Does Mads become extremely fond of and protective of Blue- not only because they're his Negaverse self, but because they've suffered as much as he has (and who does he think has suffered more?)?

How does Mads stop NFenton from being cruel to Blue (I mean, Mads' is powerless against this evil version of Gizmoduck)? And does NFenton listen... and if so, why? Does he ever think Mads is pathetic for caring about Blue? At what point in their relationship did he start listening? And why would he want anything to do with NFenton if he's such a cruel jerk to Blue?

What exactly made Mads fall for NFenton (both sexually and emotionally?) OH, and even when he had feelings for him sexually *before* they developed into something more, did that make him feel guilty and confused in regards to his own feelings for Gyro... like, even though he ofc didn't just want Gyro sexually, did it still make him feel guilty and conflicted? And what made NFenton fall for Mads- just attracted his crazy, chaotic energy, which is so reminiscent of the people from the Negaverse? OH, and how did he feel about Mads' backstory (and I imagine Mads didn't tell him the details until well into their relationship when he knew he could trust him? ALSO, who was it easier talking to about more personal stuff- Gyro, who he always trusted, or NFenton? Could the difference be that Mads maybe always wondered if he'd be bothering/burdening Gyro if he talked to him about stuff, so maybe that's why he didn't often?

You implied there was a lot of sexual energy between them right from the start, that they likely knew about deep down but denied/ignored... so during the whole 'enemies' phase, where did that 'hatred' for each other come from?

Would NFenton ever hurt the ones Mads cares about, like Gyro, Fenton, Archimede, or even Boyd? I mean, obviously, there's no way NFenton would let him, but how would he stop him from doing that?

Mads isn't a bad guy, in the sense that he would hurt just anyone- even though he doesn't have much regard for others in general, he DOES still have morals and standards- so, how does he feel about NFenton helping Scrooge to hurt others and making them suffer? Does he have a problem with it? How exactly does it affect their relationship or how he feels about NFenton? And- even though he would happily join NFenton in causing chaos and mayhem in general- would he ever stop NFenton from actually hurting anyone?

How does Mads feel about NScrooge?

How does Mads feel about NGyro and vice-versa?

OOOOH, that IS fun!! You could do so much with that!! I love that!!!

AH, FUN!! When Mads tells him his version of how everything went down, I wonder what NFenton's going to say when he's mentioning Gyro every two seconds (because SO MUCH OF IT, nearly everything, was directly tied to or motivated by Gyro). Also, how will NFenton feel when he learns about his feelings for Gyro (weirded out? Jealous?), and how would he react hearing about how much guilt and remorse Mads feels for everything he did to Gyro (disgusted with how 'weak' he might see that or understanding/sympathetic?)

What is F.O.W.L.'s goal in the Negaverse? I'm guessing their purpose and S.H.U.S.H.'s purpose have switched in the Nverse? XD How is Scrooge and both organizations associated in the Negaverse?

What are Gandra and Archie like in this world?

Main Negaverse AU. Refresh my memory. World, characters, dynamics, everything. Go! (I only remember the basics). :D

LETS GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

You asked for this ;)

SO! Dunno much about the actual Negaverse from the dwd series so things may change if I ever decide to actually watch an episode about it but for now we have this (gonna focus more on the team science aspect of this because that's what most of the stories are about ssldfjdlkj). Oh gosh I've gotta go digging into ye old docs from 2020 help meeee-

So far we've got Scrooge as the evil crime boss overlord over Duckburg. He does whatever the heck he wants and essentially just regularly pillages the city for whatever he wants. He doesn't actually rule anything, he just wreaks havoc and hardly any force is organized against him because everyone's too busy trying to put their lives back together. Gizmoduck acts as his enforcer and is the one who does most of the pillaging, along with being the one who's sent out to squash whatever kind of rebellions come up against that. Gyro is his evil scientist, he makes things that to his vast frustration regularly turn out good and try to rebel against Gyro and Scrooge. He's the most two-faced person ever, he acts like the sweetest person you'll ever meet but then will absolutely stab someone in the back. Said it before but I'm really just going off of this because I absolutely love this idea. Boyd (here called 2-BO still) is so far one of the only inventions that he's managed to keep 'evil', he acts as Gyro's bodyguard and if Gyro ever needs any shady things done and Gizmoduck isn't available, he'll have 2-BO do it. Despite relationships being different in this universe he does still have some genuine affection for 2-BO in there somewhere. Gyro and Fenton just kind of tolerate each other, Fenton's been around long enough to know all about Gyro's nice outward appearance, while also being wholly familiar with the darker side of him. So Gyro doesn't usually bother with being nice to him anymore, and Fenton is just his usual mean and pessimistic self right back at him. I wouldn't call them friends, at least, not on a surface level, but they've known each other long enough that they know each other well and can work well together.

I think I said it in their post but Blue again was one of the Moonvasion clones of course, brought down by one of the Moonlanders (Lunaris was just trying to free Duckburg and the rest of the world from Scrooge's evil-ness). Something about what happened to them acted as a wake-up call, they were able to see how terrible Scrooge (and therefore everyone else who worked with/for him) really was from the outside. When they found out that the rest of the clones had been killed for being excess weight, that finally drove them to do something about all of this. But because the clones were killed, they're terrified of being discovered as one so they do whatever they can not to meet face-to-face with pretty much anyone in their universe. They're afraid of confrontation anyway too, so they do most of their opposing as just quietly sneaking around. They're terrified of Fenton, and he gets a special kind of delight out of messing with them. They've never actually fainted around him (yet), but it isn't for a lack of him trying. They can't stand how fake Gyro comes off most of the time, but they know firsthand how ruthless he can be so they stay well away from him whenever possible. And tbh it's really fun to think about my stories switched over to the Negaverse, because like any wholesome moment or happy ending is the opposite. Mads and Fenton bleeding out in the snow and having a nice heart-to-heart before being saved? Could that be changed to Fenton trying to kill Blue before they managed to get back at him in self-defense, and when Gyro went to get Fenton he left Blue there to die? Gyro being kidnapped by F.O.W.L. and Mads and Fenton going to rescue him? Or Fenton forcing Blue to tell him where Gyro is and making them be his hostage?? And angst would be the opposite here too- switching Here's My Day so Far so it's Blue staying with F.O.W.L. for a few months before Fenton comes and kidnaps them and holds them hostage at his house, before making them come along to rescue Gyro from F.O.W.L. (and possibly hurt their F.O.W.L. agent friends- wait maybe in this universe Bradford's death was on accident??? 👀) too. Anyway. It's fun.

Story starts when Scrooge tells Gyro and Fenton to go ask the Negaverse people (who they know about somehow... haven't worked that out yet) for help defeating F.O.W.L.. NScrooge says he'll help, but only if they pick someone for a fight against his champion. His only condition is that whoever they pick, their weapons have to be homemade. Because the armor was largely made by Gyro, they go ask Mads, who made the weapons in his hand himself. When they head back to the Negaverse with him they discover that NScrooge's champion is NGizmoduck, and the two have a very intense and also very sexually charged fight, where Mads wins (but it's implied that NFenton let him win 'cause someonessssssss catching feelings already ;)). And I was originally thinking from there that they just kind of immediately fall for each other, but lately I’ve been thinking it would be really fun if they had some sort of enemies-to-lovers things going on where they take turns kidnapping each other, and it's left unspoken but they both know that for the most part this is just a game. Eventually they do confess and after that their relationship is mostly just little dates in each of their universes, telling each other how different things went down and how their respective universe even works (never resolved the 'negaverse people are now fighting F.O.W.L. too' thing here because LISTEN this was just an elaborate scheme to get these two together slsdjflsdjflsj). I haven't worked out how Mads met Blue yet, don't know if he went looking for them on purpose or somehow they just ran into each other. Blue is scared of Mads and his universe at first- because everyone there knows that Mads (and therefore Blue) is a clone of Gyro, and they're afraid that someone is going to tell someone in their universe about that too. Blue does eventually warm up to Mads (and Mads really tries to be their friend), though they are very distrusting of Gyro and Fenton because no matter how nice they are to them they'll always have that first impression of NGyro and NFenton.

I’m thinking that the relationship between NFenton and Blue does get better while Mads is there, he’s close with both of them and isn’t gonna tolerate NFenton harassing them at all. That being said!!! (This is where it gets tricky because I don’t know all about how it worked in dwd but this is how I’ve chosen to interpret the basic stuff ik sldlflfm) Their universes do run parallel to each other so if something happens in one, then some kind of version of that happens in another. Now if Mads and Fenton do ever have a major interaction in their universe then some kind of likely negative version happens between NFenton and Blue (and that was actually something really fun I messed around with in one of my stories, someone dies in the Negaverse and now they’ve got to figure out if they can prevent their death in the normal universe, if that’s even possible).

So yeah I think that’s most of what I’ve figured out so far lmk if there’s more you wanna know about 👀

#SORRY FOR ALL THE QUESTIONS XD

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