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Genuinely if you use AI as any type of creative medium, you're cringe as FUCK (Honestly just using gen AI in general is pathetic.)
I have now seen multiple people using AI for their OC's or images for their fics, and then being confused on why no one wants to read anything they write. If you aren't above using AI for images, people will never trust that you won't do the same for your fics too.
I will never in my goddamn life use AI, creatively or otherwise, if I can't do something with my goddamn hands/brain then I simply don't do it. It is an easy concept that people need to learn.
I make all my own dividers because, for one I don't wanna use other people's but also I am not gonna use AI to make character specific dividers for Kinktober, shit is not hard to do. AND once Kinktober is over, I will allow anyone to use the dividers I made for it.
major thought while reading Steel Ball Run: how many times do we have to witness Johnny and Gyro despairing over each other's potential demise!?
tell me some of you have had your heart broken during these scenes, i want to create an emotional peer support group:
the battle with soundman sandman was a foreshadow i guess
almost strangled johnny down here
but then turned around and wanted to ugly cry ... johnny, if it were another person you wouldn't have sacrificed ... but because it's gyro you did
and of course, there's the finale (which was very heartbreaking considering Johnny was so shaken he couldn’t even scream out Gyro’s name like the previous times)
i feel like Araki wanted to triple whatever CaeJose had with GyJo, because the pain was tripled in both frequency and intensity—but at least Johnny got to hear and see Gyro’s last moment, unlike Joseph
Hiiii I want to say thank you so much for writing so many lovely stuff for us I feel like we are being spoiled and I hope you don't push yourself too hard on writing a lot! I get really excited when HP is included in your writings ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
I do have a request if you're taking them, may I request part 7 characters reacting to reader asking "can I pet?" but everyone else assumes they meant their horses not themselves XD
✿˚｡⋆ can I pet? ⋆｡˚✿
♡‧₊˚✦ Pairing ✦˚₊‧♡: Johnny Joestar, Diego Brando, hot pants, mountain Tim x gn reader
A/n: LMAOO THIS IS ADORABLE EJJEEIEK YAAA ALSO UR THE SWEETEST EVER THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR THIS MESSAGE ITS ADORABLE
Johnny Joestar.
The afternoon sun was brutal, and the camp had finally quieted down. Johnny was sitting on a crate, meticulously checking Slow Dancer’s front hooves for any trapped stones.
He looked exhausted, his signature knit cap pushed back slightly on his forehead, a rare moment of stillness for him.
You walked up to him, hands tucked behind your back, shifting your weight from side to side. "Hey, Johnny?"
He didn’t look up immediately, gently patting Slow Dancer’s leg before finally glancing at you, blue eyes squinting against the glare. "Yeah? What's up?"
"I have a question," you started, giving him a soft, expectant look. "Can I pet?"
Johnny blinked, his expression instantly softening into something almost proud. He looked over at Slow Dancer, who let out a soft huff. "Oh. Yeah, sure. Just be gentle around her ears, she’s a bit finicky today because of the heat. Start with her muzzle so she knows you're-"
Before he could finish the sentence, you took a step forward, completely bypassing the massive appaloosa horse.
Instead, you reached out and placed your hand right on top of Johnny’s head, right over his star patterned cap, and gently ruffled his hair.
Johnny froze entirely, The words died in his throat. His hands, still holding a hoof pick, hovered in mid air.
He stared straight ahead at your midsection, his jaw slightly slack, trying to process the physical sensation of a hand petting his hair like he was a prize winning retriever.
"Uh" Johnny choked out, his face rapidly turning the color of a ripe tomato. He didn't pull away mostly because he was too stunned to move but his hands began to twitch awkwardly. "What... what are you doing?"
"Petting" you said simply, giving his hair one last affectionate stroke before pulling your hand back.
"I thought you meant the horse!" Johnny hissed, his voice cracking slightly as he pulled his cap down over his burning face, though his eyes were still glued to you in utter bewilderment.
"Why would you phrase it like that?! You can't just walk up to a guy and ask to pet him! My heart almost stopped!"
Slow Dancer let out a loud snort, almost as if she were laughing at him. Johnny glared at the horse, then back at you, muttering under his breath about "weird city folks" while secretly fixing his hair so it perfectly aligned with where your hand just was.
Diego was leaning against a wooden fence, watching Silver Bullet graze. He had an apple in his hand, slicing off small pieces with a pocketknife and flipping them into his mouth with practiced, lethal precision. He looked dangerous, sharp, and entirely unapproachable.
You approached him anyway. "Diego."
He shifted his gaze to you, his reptilian-blue eyes tracking your movement coldly. "What?"
"Can I pet?"
Diego’s eyes flicked over to Silver Bullet, then back to you. A smug arrogant smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
He figured you were just another person captivated by his equestrian prowess, trying to get close to his world.
"Fine" he sneered softly, slipping his knife away. "But keep it brief. Silver Bullet doesn't tolerate clumsy hands, and frankly, neither do I Don't make any sudden movements or he'll-"
You took a decisive step forward, reached up, and patted Diego right on his blue jockey cap.
When he didn't immediately strike you down, you slid your hand down slightly to scratch the back of his neck, right at the hairline.
Diego froze. The smug smirk vanished instantly. A low, involuntary sound almost like a sharp intake of breath, or a very faint, reptilian hiss escaped his throat.
His entire body went rigid, his pupils shrinking into tiny slits as his demeanor completely shattered into pure, unadulterated shock.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Diego growled, though the threat was completely ruined by the fact that he hadn't pulled away, his body seemingly paralyzed by the sheer audacity of the action.
"I asked if I could pet," you reminded him gently.
Diego’s face flushed a sharp, angry crimson. He finally snapped out of it, swatting your hand away, though his grip on your wrist was surprisingly careful.
"I thought you meant the horse, you idiot!" he hissed, his teeth bared in a defensive, embarrassed snarl. "You don't just... handle me like an animal! I am Diego Brando! I am not a-"
He broke off, looking away quickly as he wiped the back of his neck where your hand had just been, his chest heaving slightly.
He muttered something furious under his breath about "disrespectful peasants" but for the rest of the day, his eyes kept darting back to your hands wondering if you were going to try it again.
The campsite was quiet, save for the crackle of the dying fire. Hot Pants was seated on a log, meticulously cleaning her tack and checking the straps on her saddle.
She was as always a picture of intense focus rigid posture, sharp eyes, and an aura that practically screamed leave me alone.
You, however, ignored the warning signs and walked right up to her. "Hey, Hot Pants?"
She didn't stop wiping down the leather, only giving you a cool, sidelong glance from beneath her pink hood.
"If you're looking for Johnny or Gyro, they went to scout ahead. If you need something else, make it quick."
"Actually, I wanted to ask you something," you said, stepping a little closer. "Can I pet?"
Hot Pants paused her cloth. She looked over at her horse, resting quietly a few feet away, then back at you
A faint, almost imperceptible softening touched her features, replaced quickly by her usual stern expression. She let out a quiet sigh.
"I suppose" she murmured, turning back to her work. "She's had a long run today, so keep your movements slow. Don't startle her from behind. Just a few pats on the neck will do."
"Great, thanks," you said.
Instead of turning toward the horse, you took one final step toward Hot Pants. Before she could register your proximity
you reached out and placed your hand firmly on top of her head, right over the soft fabric of her pink hood. You gave her two neat, affectionate pats smoothing the fabric down.
Hot Pants went entirely structural. It was as if her spine had suddenly turned to solid marble.
The cloth slipped from her hand, falling into the dirt. Her eyes widened to the size of saucers, staring blankly at the horse saddle in front of her.
For a terrifying three seconds, she didn't even breathe. Her mind raced through a thousand worst case scenarios
"What..." Hot Pants started, her voice a strained, breathless whisper. She slowly looked up at you, her face rapidly flushing a deep, dramatic pink that perfectly matched her attire. "What are you doing? Move your hand."
You pulled your hand back, smiling innocently. "Just petting."
"I am not the horse!" she practically choked out, scrambling backward off the log so fast she nearly tripped over her own boots.
She clutched the front of her hood, pulling it down as far as it would go to hide the furious blush spreading down her neck. "Why would you why would anyone assume 'can I pet' applies to a human being?!"
"You said yes," you pointed out.
"To the animal! To the equine!" Hot Pants hissed, her usual cold composure completely shattered into panicked, embarrassed fluster. She looked around the camp frantically
as if praying Johnny and Gyro hadn't witnessed the utter undignified spectacle. She pointed a trembling, defensive finger at you. "Do not do that again. Ever. It is... highly inappropriate! And weird! Go pet a dog!"
She aggressively snatched her cleaning cloth out of the dirt and turned her back to you, scrubbing the saddle with ten times more force than necessary.
But beneath her hood, her ears were burning, and she couldn't stop the bizarre, fluttering confusion in her chest from a simple gentle touch she hadn't expected.
The evening wind was blowing softly across the plains, and Mountain Tim was leaning casually against a wooden post, looking like a painting of the perfect cowboy.
He was lazily twirling a piece of rope around his fingers, his eyes fixed on the horizon, his signature Stetson hat tilted just low enough to look effortlessly cool.
You walked over, the grass crunching beneath your boots. He noticed you immediately, shifting his weight and offering you a warm, slow, incredibly charming smile.
"Evening" Tim murmured, his deep voice smooth as molasses. "Beautiful night out here, isn't it? Something I can help you with?"
"Yeah, actually" you said, stepping right into his personal space. "Can I pet?"
Tim’s smile widened just a fraction, a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
He glanced over at his horse, Ghost Rider, who was tied up nearby. He figured you were just looking for a bit of comfort after a long day on the trail.
"Well now, you don't even have to ask," Tim said softly, tipping his hat up slightly with one finger. "Ghost Rider is a gentle soul. He likes a good scratch right behind the ears. Go on ahead, take your time."
"Thanks" you said.
You didn't look at Ghost Rider. You didn't even tilt your head toward the horse.
Instead, you reached up, completely bypassed the brim of Tim's Stetson, and placed your hand right on top of his head. Because of the hat, you ended up softly patting the crown of his cowboy hat, before sliding your hand down to gently ruffle the exposed hair at the back of his neck, giving him a few soft, affectionate strokes.
The rope in Tim's hands immediately went slack, slipping through his fingers and falling into the grass.
The smooth, charming cowboy completely evaporated. Tim froze, his eyes staring straight ahead, wide with absolute, unadulterated shock.
A bright, unmistakable crimson flush crept up from his collar, rushing all the way to the tips of his ears.
"I..." Tim choked out, his voice dropping its smooth cadence entirely and cracking on the vowel. He stood there, completely paralyzed by your hand in his hair, looking like a deer caught in the headlights of a train that hadn't even been invented yet.
"You're very soft," you remarked, pulling your hand back.
Tim clapped a hand over the back of his neck where your fingers had just been, his face burning hot.
He stumbled back half a step, completely losing his footing for a second before catching himself against the post. He looked at you, then at his horse, then back at you, his chest heaving as he tried to find his words.
"Ma'am uh, sir- friend-" Tim stuttered, his silver tongue completely failing him. He cleared his throat aggressively, trying to pull his cowboy composure back together like a man frantically gathering spilled playing cards. "I... I plum thought you meant the horse. A gentleman doesn't usually... folk don't just walk up and... and pet a lawman!"
"You said I didn't even have to ask," you reminded him with a grin.
Tim buried his face in his hands, letting out a long, defeated groan that sounded half like a laugh and half like pure embarrassment.
"Lord have mercy," he muttered into his palms, his shoulders shaking. "You're gonna be the death of me on this trail. If Johnny or Gyro saw that, I'd never hear the end of it."
He finally looked back up, pulling his hat down low over his eyes to hide his lingering blush, but he couldn't hide the helpless, flustered smile tugging at his lips.
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I often think about the moments where Johnny and Gyro were camping, not fighting anyone, just chilling by the campfire. I'd like to know if you have any headcanon about it, since we barely seen those
this is my headcanon
no but seriously uhh.. well, we know they play cards, cook together obviously, make coffee, get mad at each other… id like to think they probably look back over notes johnny made or recount weird encounters they had to write them down.
gyro probably has like.. ONE book he brought instead of leaving it in arizona (once again that initial travel time from italy is lowkey crazy), so maybe he reads it a few times until johnny gets curious, then johnny spends time reading it, then they talk about that. and then on the road they start making references to the book because its the only piece of media they share. like “oh this is JUST like when-“ “says the man who’s only read ONE book, ever.” “the fuck, man, you just said diego was like the guy from chapter 10.”
johnny does try to write down a score for the cheese song.
gyro probably has a habit of cutting his nails whenever they get annoying (nobody mention part 4 rn), which johnny finds annoying, until gyros like come on please do it you’ll stop tearing at your fingers, and johnnys like no i dont do that, and then they both look at his hands and theres at least 5 fingers which are totally shredded, and he finally cuts his nails and finds it to be a lot harder to do so, or a lot less satisfying. and gyros like yeah buddy i told you so.
johnny teaches gyro how to give a horse a leg massage and the best places to brush them, and gyro teaches johnny how to give a human a massage, and they help each other with knots in their backs.
sometimes they caramelize sugar.
gyro is absolutely mental about trying to find souvenirs for his siblings and johnny tells him to wait for new york, because there will be shops in the city and there’ll be time after the race. instead, johnny draws little cards of some of the landmarks they pass and tells gyro he can use those instead.
johnny buys from the catalogue a little booklet of edible plants of america and seeks them out to give them different flavors while he cooks. they come up with insane nicknames for the horses that just build and build on each other with the most random inflections.
ok… thats all i can think of rn!! hopefully these have some substance to them! thanks for this fun ask!! here’s the epilogue to that comic above lol:
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I swear I’m alive… haven’t ‘game over-ed’ myself yet
I’ll try to go back to writing slowly now that @adeadcreator has also a regular humane working schedule and we can chat and write doing a facetime on discord.
Life is a shitshow. I want to draw some vent art in order to get it out completely from my system and be a tad bit better. Heat is too much, but Spain is going to win The World Cup and my physio has been contacted, so life could be worth living again…
Also, STEEL BALL RUN CONFIRMED?!?
Can’t wait to see Johnny again on the screen, but I swear the changes from him being rounded face and next shot he has the thinnest jaw on Earth is frying me.
Things with boyfriend are better. Yesterday was the first time in over a month we were able to behave like a couple again and it was refreshing. He has a job again, and doesn’t have to be worrying about being able to pay rent since his aunt took him in, —his cousins threw him a Welcome party with a cake too. Adorable. He did get bit by a dog, though. His bad luck still persists, but oh well…
Back is killing me, legs give up on me as soon as I sit down for over 20-30 minutes (that course was TORTURE whenever we had to sit for 4h straight), and I’m full of scratches because of the kittens. But then, Nuca climbs up to my neck for a nap, y se me pasa… 🩵
Kittens are doing amazing, but they refuse to eat dry food that isn’t soft human-food sausages… and my heart breaks a little whenever my parents or siblings get frustrated with them because -literal babies still- and threaten with kicking them to the garden. Pretty sure they can tell whenever I’m shit, because they want —specially Nuca— to sleep on me while purring.
(yes, I lay on the floor to be with them to stop my legs from growing numb, and if I’m on my back, the pressure is sliiiiiiiiightly lower)
TL;DR: Kittens. Crappy nervous system. Need to get the fuck out of my house. But boyfriend is doing better and Spain is going to destroy Portugal today, so I’m happy (not really, but somewhat better)
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