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00fairylights00 · 4 months

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I Guess You Just Don’t Love Me Anymore

GIF from @glowing-starlight on Tumblr

I was so taken by @ash-arts-but-sinful's post which mentions P being jealous of the cat and @oldworldghost’s post which contains the idea of him becoming more mischievous and sassy as he becomes human that I just had to write a little something, I hope it’s alright that I drew on your thoughts for some inspiration!

As a disclaimer, I haven’t finished my first play-through yet so this is more of a character study based off of what I’ve experienced in-game and what I’ve been seeing on Tumblr instead of delving heavily into the world-building and established story that exists within the game. So hopefully no spoilers and it’s very likely that this won’t at all line up with the in-game timeline.

Big thanks to @cupidsredcollar beloved for proofreading <3

For as long you had known Pinocchio you had never known him to be a jealous individual, in fact, when you’d first met that bleak, overcast morning in Hotel Krat you had been almost unsettled by his uncanny nature.

His features were perfectly human, aside from the metal prosthetic he’d been fitted with. He had freckles and soft hair, a face that looked fashioned from a real person instead of the smiling caricatures Krat’s puppets were usually fitted with.

But despite his boyish features, his face barely moved, he nodded along to Sophia as she gave him the task of locating his father, Mr. Geppetto, and tilted his head in question as Lady Antonia explained the concept of lying but his brows didn’t so much as pinch, his lips didn’t quirk and his eyes looked straight through you as you had wished him safety on his travels.

So watching in real time as he came into his own was something you cherished greatly, you continued to watch him grow and change, become something new. Pinocchio chose to spend a lot of his down time with you, he said he found you interesting, that you had a way of explaining humanity that made sense to him and over the last couple of weeks something had started to shift in him.

No, Pinocchio had never been a jealous individual, for as long as you’d known him.

Until today.

Your morning had started normally, woken up by the cool feeling of P’s lips against your forehead, human hand smoothing back your hair. He mumbled something about needing to go out, you tried to convince him to come back to bed, he tried to convince you to get up (he always wins).

P drags you down to the kitchen, you eat and he watches, something that was initially a little awkward but you’ve come to really look forward to, then you farewell each other at the rear entrance of the hotel.

He holds you close to his chest, resting his lips to your hairline and making you promise to look after yourself and your companions while he’s away, you make him promise to be careful though you know he’s not always able to, often catching glimpses of Sophia muttering blessings and incantations under her breath in the foyer.

“It’s just Ergo hunting today, I’ll be more than careful.” He whispers, human arm winding around your shoulder. You breathe him in, hands to his chest feeling the odd sensation of his heart, not quite a tick but not quite a beat.

You lean up to kiss against the slant of his jaw, his mechanical pulse jumping in response. He looks down at you, you catch the fondness in his blue eyes without mistake, he captures your lips in his, holding on for a second longer than he knows is necessary (it’s not like you mind though).

Lounging against the doorway, watching him walk towards the entrance of Elysion Boulevard, he turns and gives a last longing look over his shoulder before stepping through the wrought iron gates and disappearing from view.

You sigh, making your way back inside to start on your usual round of chores, helping where you could to take the load off of Polendina who needed more time to focus on Lady Antonia and her illness. You had just returned to the puppet butler for more tasks when you noticed movement on the top of the shelf behind the front desk.

Sitting tall and proud was Hotel Krat’s resident sweetheart, Spring, tail swishing steadily as she kept watch of the foyer from her perch. The white and orange cat jumped down to the desk as she noticed you, laying down across the dark wood and turning over in gesture for belly rubs; which you gave happily.

“She’s been very noisy today,” Polendina explained, stroking the cat, “I wonder what she’s trying to tell us?”

“Probably trying to manipulate us into giving her more treats, isn’t that right?” You accused lightly, you were sure that if he could, Polendina would be smiling.

“There is another load of laundry that needs folding, could I have a hand?” He asked politely.

“Of course Polendina.”

And it seemed you had found yourself a shadow, Spring making an unreasonable amount of noise as she followed you and Polendina around the hotel. She wound between your legs, chirruped in response to your voices and bumped her head against whatever part of your bodies were within her reach.

It was no surprise that Spring was loved by the inhabitants of the hotel, and it was very apparent that she loved them back, well everyone except for P. Not for lack of trying of course, he followed your advice of trying to build trust between him and the animal but she wouldn’t so much as let P touch her, hissing her disapproval for all to hear.

You’d often watch as P would recoil from Spring, the feline swiping and spitting at the puppet. You couldn’t tell from his expressions if the cat’s dislike for him bummed him out but sometimes as he lay next to you in bed he would lament quietly that Spring hated him, which would award him a sound of humoured pity and a kiss for the cheek.

It wasn’t clear what it was about P that set Spring off so aggressively. In all the time you had spent at Hotel Krat she’d never behaved in such an unfriendly way, even complete strangers who would seek refuge for short periods of time were welcome to interact with Spring freely.

She would bask in the attention. You hoped that she would eventually come around to the puppet, given it looked like he would be around for the long haul and you just knew the two would be the best of friends if she would stop being so nasty.

But P was patient, far more patient than you were and it showed as you folded and unfolded the same piece of linen for the third time without realising, Polendina placed a gloved hand over your own, silently relieving you of duty.

“Apologies, my mind seems to be elsewhere Polendina.”

“You worry for the boy, it’s only natural that your mind wanders.” You sometimes forget how long Polendina has been around, having been a close companion of Lady Antonia’s for decades. You had a feeling he knew more about human emotions than he let on, somehow he always knew what to say when it came to your thoughts surrounding Geppetto’s Puppet.

“I just can’t help it, and with him figuring out who he is, I fear he’ll get himself hurt by being too kind.” You wring your hands in your lap, focusing hard on the lines in your skin as you try to keep yourself from thinking of anything too awful.

“He has met humans who have given him trouble before and he has a good head on his shoulders. I would wager that you have nothing to worry about, but I understand that may not put your mind at ease.”

“It doesn’t but thank you.” Your hand went to Polendina’s shoulder with a smile. “I think I’m going to find something else to do, try and get my mind off of things.”

Polendina nodded once, going back to folding the linens, “I’ll send the boy your way when he returns.”

You smiled in earnest, appreciative of Polendina’s knowing kindness.

Spring, who had been lounging between you and Polendina, got up, stretching herself out and scampering over to your side. She meowed frantically to grasp your attention.

Her interruptions continued as you made your way around the kitchen. It wasn’t particularly dirty given how little it was being used now, however, the repetitive action of wiping down the countertops and sweeping the floor were just the distraction you were looking for.

Your ears perked up at the heavy steps of boots on marble floors, the jingle of P’s belt was something you could identify in your sleep. He stood tall in the doorway, all sweet smiles and fidgeting hands. Happy to see you, always happy to see you.

He was shockingly clean as he approached, resting his forehead to yours as his hands found their place on your waist, all the scolding about tracking oil and muck through the hotel was finally paying off.

You ran your hands over the intricate designs embossed onto the lapel of his coat, smoothing the fabric down before hooking your hands behind his neck.

“Welcome home, pretty boy.” You cooed, brushing your nose against his.

He liked the small intimacies you shared, bunny kisses you’d come to find were a favourite of his.

“You can go and relax if you want, I’m just cleaning.” You offered, but he shook his head.

Spring had also gotten bored of waiting on you, brushing up against your legs. So there you stood, sandwiched between your two favourite beings.

And two shadows wouldn’t be so bad if they would stop getting under foot, you laughed as Spring and P fought for your attention while you made your way around the kitchen.

P hovered close, slinging his arm around your waist as you tried to pass him. You stopped short as he pressed his face into your neck, leaning back against his chest and resting your hands over his wrist. You could feel him smile against your skin, a careful, small smile that only he could manage.

At that moment Spring took it upon herself to jump up onto the counter in front of you, hissing and swiping at P, he scowled and pulled you closer.

“Beast,” he scowled, you gaped at P, smacking the back of your hand at his chest.

“Don’t be horrible, she’s just protecting her territory,” you chided,

“I haven’t done anything to her, yet she spits at me.” He complained, you thought your ears might be playing tricks on you at the distinct sound of a whine in his tone.

“You love her.” You reminded smugly, a truth he was unable to escape.

“Yeah, unfortunately,” he mumbled, you pushed against his hold, trying to signal your want to move and he hesitantly loosened his grip. Hand ghosting over your waist as he watched you go, you threw a smile over your shoulder which he returned in kind.

You gave Spring a kiss on the head, letting her nuzzle her face against yours before scooping her up and putting her down on the floor where she went back to curling around your legs.

“Ah, so the cat gets a kiss but I don’t?” P asked. You snorted, flinging the rag you’d been using to polish the countertops over your shoulder.

You lent your hip against the counter and crossed your arms over your chest, “you never asked for a kiss, how was I supposed to know that’s what you wanted?”

“I feel like it was obvious.” He placed both of his hands on the counter, stretching his arms out straight as he pushed against the granite.

You rolled your eyes in jest, unable to keep the fond smile from creeping onto your face, playfully exasperated you closed the short distance between the two of you. Lifting up on your tip-toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, he was quick to move his head once you’d pulled back. Hands to your waist and pulling you against him, sealing his lips to yours so quickly it pulled a sound of shock from your throat.

“What’s up with you today, you’ve been awfully touchy.” You teased, twisting the ends of his hair between your fingers. “Not that I’m complaining of course.”

“Missed you,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your forehead tenderly.

“I missed you too, always miss you when you’re gone.” You placed a hand on his cheek, thumb rubbing gently under his eye.

He pulled the rag from your shoulder and threw it behind you unceremoniously, taking your hand from his cheek to drag you out of the kitchen, a laugh bubbled out of your throat that P was happy to mischievously return.

He led you to the library, seating you at the piano and turning away to rifle through the sheet music stacked in a crate on the floor. He’d been getting better day by day.

His body wasn’t exactly built to do delicate actions but that never seemed to stop him, in fact, he was inexplicably drawn to all the soft parts of being human even if initially he was afraid to get it wrong. The last thing he’d ever want to do is hurt anyone close to him and for that reason he was acutely aware of the raw strength he possessed.

Though his conscious effort to be gentle made all the difference.

Spring decided she’d had enough of being ignored, jumping up onto the piano bench and brushing up against you, pressing close and then curling down next to you. P turned around, the particular book of sheet music he was searching for held up in his hand, his expression dropped almost comically as he noticed Spring’s position next to you, taking up what was going to be his spot.

“Move her,” he says simply, you throw your head back with a hearty laugh but P’s serious expression doesn’t change.

“No,” you start with a laugh, “Spring got here first, you’ll have to pull up a chair.”

P continued to stand his ground, you wondered if he hoped his very presence would annoy Spring enough that she’d disappear of her own accord, but the cat only opened one eye. She regarded P from her curled up position before nestling her chin back down into her tail.

It was like Spring knew she was in his spot and was smugly showing off to him, purring loudly.

“P, I’m not moving the cat. Just come and sit on the other side of me.” You insisted, watching as his unappreciated love for the animal won out and he stalked off to get a chair. You chuckled under your breath and passed your fingers through Spring’s soft fur.

“You are so mean to him, you know? He’s quite fond of you and I think you two would be very good friends if you gave him the chance.” You whispered to the cat who ignored you, continuing to purr unabashedly.

Unbeknownst to you, P watched your interaction with the feline from the doorway, his chest feeling warm in a way he wasn’t quite used to yet. Touched by your words that you thought were falling on deaf ears.

He gave in to your fondness for the cat, pulling his chair up next to you, fingers gently flitting across the keys as you hummed softly, head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He decided he didn’t mind this so much.

Late in the evening, however, he decided he did mind.

You were curled up in your bed a book in hand and Spring dozing lazily in your lap, he entered the room and his shoulders physically dropped.

“What’s the matter?” You asked, thumb placed between the pages of your book as a makeshift bookmark.

“Nothing,” he mumbled, sitting down unceremoniously on the edge of your bed to take off his shoes.

You placed the now forgotten book on your bedside cabinet, the act of sitting up a little difficult with the cat in your lap. You reached for his shoulder but he shrugged off your hand, trying to hide the action by stripping off his coat.

He stood and draped the coat over the back of your desk chair and moved to unbutton his waistcoat, all while staring down Spring with a scowl.

It clicked.

“Are you jealous of the cat?” You wanted deeply to believe that your Pinocchio was not jealous of a cat, but you couldn’t come up with a more sound explanation.

“I don’t know what that word means.” He lied, avoiding your gaze entirely, unbuckling his belt and dumping it on the desk, Gemini didn’t say anything so you assumed he mustn’t be awake.

“Yes you do,” you rolled your eyes, “I remember very clearly the conversation we had about it.”

He didn’t respond, turning his back to you and focusing his attention on rifling through the dresser drawer full of his clothes. The sleep clothes he was looking for were folded at the end of the bed.

“It’s okay that you’re jealous of-”

“I am not jealous.” Quick, concise and with no room for argument, he spun back on you. His snapping didn’t phase you.

“Uh huh,” you teased with a smirk, turning all your attention back to Spring who’d been ignoring your exchange.

Perhaps what you were doing was a little mean, given that before you hadn’t been ignoring him on purpose, but it was too fun an opportunity to pass up. P let out a disgruntled huff, shuffling around in your peripheral.

“I guess you just don’t love me anymore.” He offered with his arms crossed over his chest, your jaw dropped and a shocked laugh fell out of your open mouth.

“You take that back, immediately!” You snapped playfully, sitting up fully and annoying the cat enough for her to get up and move.

“Make me.” The challenge he’d levied would mean conceding to his childish behaviour but after all he’d been through, you thought it only fair.

You pulled the sheets back and stood from the bed, crossing the room to him. He tried to act as though he was uninterested, tried to pretend that your hands on his chest didn’t affect him, tried to ignore the speed of his heart as it hammered under your palm.

Your hands travelled the beaten path they always did, from his chest to his collarbone, then hooking behind his neck. Trying to pull him down was useless, like trying to topple a brick wall with bare hands, but you caught him staring out of the corner of his eye.

“Look at me.” Your whisper was a command, and he had always been faithful to a fault. “I love you.”

He tried to hide the oncoming smile, dropping his chin to his chest, but you were quick to guide his gaze back to yours. There was no way you’d be missing that careful grin. His eyes were soft and gentle when they met your own, there was hesitance in them that you didn’t want to see, so you kissed him.

He melted against you, arms winding around your back and pulling you against his chest, you hummed and he couldn’t stop the full blown grin from forming on his lips; breaking away to look at you like a giddy school boy.

“Are you going to take it back?” You asked, brushing your nose against his in a bunny kiss.

“Will I still get to kiss you if I do?” He joked, you rolled your eyes albeit in good nature, hands cradling his cheeks as he continued to smile.

“I think that can be arranged,” you mused, leaning in to kiss him again, the two of you falling into familiar rhythm with one another.

Spring slinked out of the partially open door, tail held high, she had seen more than enough.

#I started writing this in October when I had barely scratched the surface of the game #Still have not finished it though lmao #Also sorry for all the @’s I just wanted everyone to be properly credited and what not if that’s annoying lemme know and I’ll make sure it’#Do I know anything about anything? No #Also P talks a lot in this one #Controversial I know :o #I’m kidding #I realised after writing all of this out that the game takes place over like 3 days #So just suspend reality for me if you would #I am no stranger to lengthening the timeline to fit my selfish needs I will do it again in fact #And you will not complain because I wrote the puppet boy kissing YOU 🫵🏻#pushing my bunny kisses agenda once again #Lies of P x Reader #Pinocchio x Reader #Lies of P #Don’t ask me where the puppet is on the humanity scale because I do not know #jan 2024 #Pretty Boy series #🦋 let your conscience be your guide

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jacarandaaaas · 6 months

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I’m telling u this is her thing

#mirabel must raise arms to the sky whilst singing her heart out madrigal everyone #hey disney maybe if u made an encanto series we get to see other madrigals being dramatic theatre kids?#also kinda funny how both songs are about wishing on something #I just know that song hit her in the feels #this is the kinda silly stuff I post instead of getting art done #encanto #encanto disney #mirabel madrigal #disneys encanto #mirabel encanto #disney once upon a studio

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scribbling-dragon · 1 year

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until i wrap myself inside your arms, i cannot rest

summary:

Some of the dirt shifts, the sound of something metal sinking into the dirt. It breaks through the veil of silence he had draped over himself, the sound rooting him back in reality. It drags him back so harshly that he’s left disorientated and dizzy.

The sound comes again, and more of the soil caves inwards.

(ao3 link)

(2,270 words)

He’d managed to slip away from Joel five minutes into their small chase, ducking behind a bush and watching the other rush past, eyes gleaming red and still hunting, following the path Scott had abandoned as soon as he could.

He can feel his heart racing in his chest still, beating hard and fast, almost enough to make him light-headed. His racing heart refuses to slow, even with the walls on each side of him, enclosing him safely inside the bunker he’d dug for himself, as soon as he was sure he wasn't being followed. He doesn't know what’s happening, his comm silenced as soon as it became clear that the hunt wasn't over when he managed to slip away- any tiny sound, some other person dying, would be all it took to give him away.

He hasn't been able to bring himself to check it again, certain that the moment he takes his eyes off the closed entrance, even just to glance away, will be the moment someone bursts through and sticks a sword through his chest.

His chest tightens at the thought, the scarred remains of his death at Martyn’s hands aching with the reminder. He curls a little tighter on himself, shivering as the cold rock continues to leech heat from him. He didn't have much to begin with, but now his hands are losing feeling, fingers turning more and more numb the longer he sits here, watching the entrance, waiting for when someone begins to dig through the hastily packed dirt, suspicious of how fresh it probably looks from outside.

The ceiling trembles above him and he stiffens, tucking his limbs a little closer to himself, curling up smaller as though that would hide his presence if someone were to find his hidey hole. He hates this- hates the feeling of cowering in a corner, but he hadn't been able to think of any other solution. He can't take on the entire server, not when he doesn't know where his ally is- doesn't know where Martyn is, doesn't even know how he is.

Some dirt loosens from the ceiling, pattering quietly onto the ground in front of him. It spills in a small pile. He swallows, heart beginning to race even faster, heart thumping uncomfortably loud in his ears- he wouldn't be able to hear voices even if he strained his ears, wouldn't be able to hear anything, nothing at all, over the thumping, thrumming of blood in his ears.

He grips his sword, wraps a hand around the hilt, but doesn't pull it from where it rests. If he drags it, the sound will alert the person outside. The grinding of the sword against stone would be loud enough for many people to hear. Except for Scott, because Scott can't hear anything, nothing, over the roaring of blood in his ears. Nothing over the rushing of air in his lungs- not enough, not enough, never enough. He feels as though he’s drowning, but even that’s impossible now. He can't drown anymore, can't drown at all, not even if he tried.

But he still feels like he’s drowning on land, air rushing in and out of his lungs uselessly. He abandons the grip on his sword, clenching his hand into a fist in an effort to stop its shaking. He clamps his hand over his mouth next. His breathing is too loud, echoing in his ears. Echoing around the hidey hole, bouncing off the walls and practically screaming out his location to whoever’s prowling around outside.

He clamps his hand harder over his mouth, hoping that the person outside moves past, moves away. He doesn't want to be seen like this. Doesn't want to be seen huddled in a corner and panicking over the slightest of sounds, unable to even lift a weapon to defend himself- he should be fighting, should be lunging for his attacker first, striking first and striking hard. Hitting hard enough that they don't get the opportunity to strike back.

He doesn't. He sits and shakes, watching the entrance with poorly controlled breaths and the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

The sound comes again, and more of the soil caves inwards.

It’s enough motivation to pull himself back together, surging to his feet and grabbing his sword from the ground. It scrapes along the rock with a loud sound, like a whetstone against a blade, sharpening it for battle. He grips the hilt of it until his knuckles turn white, raising it in front of him.

More soil shifts, more soil is removed. He can hear it thumping onto the ground as it is tossed aside, shovelled away from his hastily blocked entrance and exit- he should have made a second exit, should have dug further into the earth and escaped underground.

He waits, holds his breath, counts. Listens.

The shovel sinks into the soil again. Soil cascades inwards, spilling over the roughly hewn floor. Scott doesn't stop to stare at it, doesn't wait to see if it falls in a pattern, doesn't wait to see how it gathers.

He lunges through the entrance it creates, shoving at his assailant with his full body weight behind it, sending them both toppling to the ground. His assailant grunts at the impact, stilling beneath him as Scott presses his sword to their throat, leaning close enough so they can see his face when he kills them.

It’s dark, darker than he thought it would be. Even in the darkness, his eyes adjust, the shadows form shapes that are more familiar to him- skeletal trees grasping at the sky and shrubbery clinging to the thin soil.

Martyn’s eyes flash in the light too, catching a small glimpse of moonlight before it fades away again. Scott lurches backwards with a gasp, dropping his sword as he scrambles backwards and away.

Martyn’s on his feet a moment later, leaning over him, worry painting his features as he grips Scott’s shoulders. He shudders at the contact, head dropping as he exhales completely, breath gusting out of him in one go, until he’s light-headed, everything spinning around them.

He slumps, going boneless. If Martyn chooses, in this moment, to kill him, to take advantage of this weakness, Scott doesn't think he’ll be able to hold it against him- he’d rather it was Martyn. Would always rather it was Martyn than anyone else. For his time to be given to someone he trusts.

Martyn clears his throat, still gripping his shoulders. The sound is awkward, enough to make Scott look up at Martyn. “Did you want to go back inside?” Martyn asks. They stare at each other for a long moment. “Alright, let’s go inside.”

Martyn pulls him to his feet, hands cupped beneath his elbows. His legs don't seem willing to support his weight anymore and he stumbles, tripping over nothing but air and grass, stumbling into Martyn. And Martyn is warm. Far warmer than he is right now, heat practically exudes from the man- he’s like a furnace.

And Scott doesn't think he can be blamed for sinking into that warmth, for clinging closer to it. His fingers are numb, but he curls his hands into Martyn’s shirt anyway, leaning against him and soaking up the warmth that Martyn gives him.

“I thought you were dead.” He says, not thinking of his words before he speaks.

Martyn laughs, small and quiet. “I thought you were dead too, that it just hadn't shown up, for whatever reason.”

“Takes more than the whole server to kill me,” he jokes. His legs feel a little more cooperative than they were a few moments earlier. “Haven't you heard? I'm practically unkillable.”

“It’d take some serious dedication to kill you,” Martyn agrees. He steps backwards, carefully lifting his feet over the pile of dirt, pulling Scott along with him. The cave beyond is much smaller with two people occupying it, and the light of his singular torch, flickering miserably in one corner, looks wan and watery. It looks a little pathetic, and Scott can't help but be a bit embarrassed by the obvious desperation here.

Martyn shivers, pulling his shirt a little tighter around himself. Not that it does much in covering him up further. The buttons stop about halfway up the shirt- really, it’s not at all practical in staying warm. Or for anything at all, far too many floating edges to get caught.

Martyn starts to draw back, begins to pull away from him. Scott catches his shirt, clenches it tight in his hands, pulls Martyn closer. “Where are you going?” He asks, tilting his head to the side.

“Nowhere far,” Martyn says. He doesn't relax his grip on Martyn’s shirt, continuing to watch him.

“I thought you’d died,” he says, gaze dropping away from Martyn’s eyes for a moment, before darting back upwards. “I thought that I was being hunted, that every shadow was out to get me, that everyone was hiding, waiting for me to emerge.”

“But I was the one that found you.” Martyn breathes, leaning closer. He can feel the warmth of Martyn’s skin through his shirt- it really is too thin for there to be any benefit to wearing it. It’s completely see-through when wet and partly see-through the rest of the time. “That’s a good thing, isn't it?”

“Not if you're attempting to leave as soon as you can.”

“I wasn't going to leave,” Martyn’s hands drop to rest at his waist, the weight of his hands barely registering over the warmth seeping into his skin, brushing over his scales. He has to remember not to move his tail, still unused to the extra appendage. No point in giving himself away so easily, not when Martyn still watches him with some amusement, as though he can tell how much Scott wants to sway into him and his warmth.

“Then what were you going to do?” The entrance is still open, the dirt still spilling over the floor. He doesn't care anymore, the worries of someone stumbling across them dwindling to a whisper in the back of his mind. He can hardly think of anything other than Martyn and his warmth and his presence in the room as they stand, pressed close together.

“I was going to get a sleeping bag.” Martyn pulls back from him a little, though he doesn't go far. A warm hand presses against the side of Scott’s head and he tilts into it, leaning into Martyn. A thumb brushes beneath his eye, almost painfully gentle over his scales. “You look tired.”

Scott pulls back with a snort. “You really know how to make a man feel special.”

“I- Scott,” Martyn groans, dropping his hand. His face still feels warm, feels as though the path Martyn’s thumb traced over his cheek left flames in its wake. “I meant that you should sleep, not that-”

Martyn cuts himself off with another groan, leaning his forehead against Scott’s shoulder as he continues to laugh. The laughs are small and hiccuping, causing his shoulders to jump as he struggles to compose himself again, leaning against Martyn as much as Martyn leans against him.

“I wouldn't mind sleeping,” he manages, after several long moments of thinking he’s fine, that he’s composed himself to continue their conversation, only to start giggling again. “I am a little tired. Just what running for your life does to you, I guess.”

“C’mon,” Martyn tugs him over to the corner opposite the torch, letting go of him only briefly to pull the sleeping bag from his bag. It’s only big enough for one person. “I’ll keep watch,” Martyn explains, when Scott looks at him.

“And when do you get to sleep?”

“I can sleep whenever I want.” Martyn says. “I'm not the one being hunted.”

“They’ll know we’re together,” Scott says. “If you side with me, they’ll kill you too. Just because they haven't yet, doesn't mean they won't.”

“I can dream,” Martyn sits beside him as he wriggles his way into the sleeping bag. “Maybe we’ll both go to sleep, and when we wake up, there’s nothing there and everyone will be calm again.”

“Not happy?”

“Nah,” Martyn laughs. “That’s a bit too unrealistic, even for a dream.”

“Well, I can dream.” He says, parroting Martyn back to himself. Martyn hums in response, a fingers already tangling in Scott’s hair, brushing through it in repetitive, soothing motions. It’s enough to push him to the edge of sleep, nudging him closer and closer to the yawning abyss.

A thought trickles into his mind, just as he’s about to fall asleep completely. “Martyn?” He asks. Martyn hums, hand pausing the repetitive motions as he listens. “How did you find me?”

“I listened,” he can hear the smile in Martyn’s voice.

“But I didn't make a sound.” He says. He knows he didn't, even if he hadn't been able to hear anything over the rushing of blood in his ears- he’s quiet all the time, footsteps cushioned so he can find those making noise, descend on those that are sneaking about in places they shouldn't be. Joel still complains about it, sometimes.

“Sometimes you just need to know what to listen for.” Martyn says. He doesn't say anything for a while, but Scott doesn't feel on the precipice of falling asleep anymore. “Go to sleep, Scott.”

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zincbot · 8 months

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ngl i love the naruto fic trend of 'kakashi goes back in time and has to try to fix everything'

#it's so common but also 90% of those fics i've read have been SUPER good #i've seen so many different slight variations on this too #naruto #i really enjoy a hokage-era kakashi because he's the most put together and likely to actually fuck shit up and not worry as much about being #like. suspicious.#an early naruto kakashi might have more time being lost in his memories when surrounded by everyone he lost #i've seen ones where kakashi goes back alone. where he and obito both go. where some of the kids go with him #read one that killed me recently where a post-series hokage kakashi switches places entirely with his younger self #(though what his younger self is experiencing in the future is told entierly through him suddenly remembering things that never happened #as if they were long ago #and witnessing this altering of time and memory. kakashi in the past elects to not tell his team anything about the future #even when minato asks him directly #he takes it as torture and doesn't break.#i read one once where kakashi went back to his child body but the sharingan came with him #i've read one where in his attempt to fix things he gets himself kidnapped in rin's stead and becomes host to sanbi #i've never seen this trend be as common in any fandom as it is with naruto #i guess cause kakashi's past is a series of horrible events that. wouldn't you like the chance to fix them

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gayrogues · 10 months

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there is no fucking way that tom king's shitty oneshot, featuring the most out-of-character riddler known to man and a batman who breaks his no kill rule and waterboards people, got nominated for an eisner award...

#i hate the riddler issue of one bad day so much it's unreal #1. why write a riddler comic if you're gonna be like 'actually he HATES riddles and puzzles and won't be using them anymore'#now he's just some guy who kills people #2. i don't think i need to explain why i hate the concept of batman breaking the no kill rule or waterboarding people #3. trying to make the killing joke relevant again after 30 years? to say that ed was the mastermind behind it?#4. the plot is just. incredibly silly and not in a good way like you're telling me once the riddler stops using riddles he #becomes powerful enough to take over the entire city and batman can't do anything about it except kill him?#and i'm not talking taking over the city like in zero year where there was an actual plan #in one bad day everyone just gets sooo scared of him and his massive brain that they fall in line #5. that is not his fucking backstory #that's like. the complete opposite of it. keeping only the part about him having a shitty dad #he was never a prestigious prep school kid under immense pressure to be the smartest #he was just some kid who went unnoticed by everyone and that's why winning that puzzle contest was so important to him #and then his dad refused to believe he was smart enough to win the contest without cheating and you know the rest #he has a very ordinary backstory that explains a lot about him #meanwhile i feel like tom king was like 'oh shit this series is called one bad day'#'i need to give ed a pivotal moment in his life that made him fucked up and evil'#'how bout i write all this stuff leading up to him brutally killing his teacher at the age of like 15'#and it just sucked ass #i feel like there was more stuff i hated that i'm forgetting but i am not gonna re-read this comic to remember! at least the art was good #oopsie daisy these tags turned out to be much longer than i was expecting - i don't even care about the eisner awards i just saw the #category pop up on the library app that i use and i was like Why is This in here #ransom.txt

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breadbirdmp4 · 7 months

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im just rewatching a lot of stuff so hear me out

with the adventure 99 kids, the only way they know how to interact with digimon is if the world is at stake. there is a definite Divide of the human and digital world. the hikarigaoka and odaiba fog incident seals the deal with them. next time theyre called, diaboromon is rampaging the internet, and they can finally see their friends again. they had to part ways, and deal with growing without them first.

with the 02 cast, the worlds intertwine. they deal with enemies that interact with them in both worlds and have influence in both. by episode 50, the digimon being at home is a pretty open secret. they do everything together and in the 02 cast were a part of the incidents.

thats why kizuna was so jarring for them. at least taichi, yamato and sora. with the digimon now being more known, they could take them to class. they could have lunch out with them. however, there is definitely a cloud of 'I have only seen them in a life-threatening situation, what can I do with them' thoughts that's blocking them from having fun with them.

jou's arc in adventure especially speaks out to me. his issues are especially why he and gomamon are still together. its because of the issues at home. in the digital world, he learns the value of reliability in his own way. his own choice, as both a Chosen Child and as a person.

dealing with problems that relate to human social issues is hard for the 99 digidestined because all they know dealing with problems is to fight their way through it. it doesn't pass their thoughts that the digimon themselves are related to their own personal issues.

#digimon adventure #digimon 02 #meta #digimon kizuna #analysis #jyou kido #joe kido #digimon are our inner children #and this is why i have been saying i want a gomamon all week #im at the tri taichi stage of WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING AND WHAT DO I DO #I DONT WANT TO DO ANYTHING /WRONG/#so once i get up to 02 with one of my friends i will share this thought #fr growing up with digimon and especially as the older versions of the kids are already out shows a difference #everyone who watched while airing already experienced growing up #my version of growing up /is/ the digimon series #everything is on fire. heres some trauma. oh yea heres this big decision. the fate of how i interact with the world changes with what i do #also the dub line of 'because thats what im supposed to do' from episode 48 changed my brain function #pov the things you are expected to do can leave you with scars. you want to scream.

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lazaruspiss · 8 months

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yeah its kinda depressing that every fandom seems to have some anti shipper niche but its also so fuckin funny sometimes. like im just remembering that rick and morty exists and holy shit was that a show that contained Sensitive Subjects portrayed only for crass amusement and self gratification. and even that show has anti shippers. (adding a cut for those who dont wanna listen to my sleep deprived rambled retellings of my rick & morty memories)

hey do yall know what the pilot was about. bc the og r&m pilot was a back to the future parody where morty has to suck off rick in order for him to have big brain power. like the og r&m has uncensored underage incest blowjobs. also the actual final show has an episode where a character proposes a "multi generational sandwich" 3way. yeah yeah but portraying incest is problematic. do u hear urself. incest doesnt even make the top 10 as far as ricks crimes against humanity go. how do yall live like that

#OH AND SOUTH PARK ANTI SHIPPERS. LIKE HELLO?#what do u expect in fandoms for shows like that. offensive content in the offensive show fandom. fork spotted in the kitchen cmon now #dangan//ronpa is also a very funny fandom choice for antis #theres like a whole subcategory thats specifically against shipping characters who canonically killed the other #like hello. you collect teenagers underwear as part of the relationship mechanics #the game is all about kids being forced to kill each other #SORRY ITS LIKE 1AM FOR ME. my brain in silly mode rn #hifumi haters are so funny (derogatory) bc hes literally tsumugi but nicer and dumber. but they like her and not him bc shes hot anime girl #SORRY I THOUGHT I WAS OUT OF MY DR PHASE. BUT THAT SERIES SHAPED ME AS A TEEN </3 #once a makoto kinnie always a makoto kinnie smh #Hghhhh hifumi is so cute and underappreciated #i gotta find the spin off comic where makoto dresses as a maid to help hifumi sell his comics bc it was cute as hell #hifumi getting fandom stereotyped as a perv is so dumb. hes literally only into anime and also maybe makoto.#hes not a perv hes just a DWEEB get it right smh #everyone was always so mean 2 him and i was like. ok.#and then i actually read his stories and yeah hifumi haters lvl 0 reading comprehension #TOO MANY TAGS. im shutting up now.#sitting my tired ass down and trying to be normal #ramble tag

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selfproclaimedunicorn · 5 months

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Very fun thinking about the 2 modern AUs of my HOTD OC fic, because I can say whatever I want that makes the Royce siblings sound cool, but it will never erase the fact they are the nepo babies to end all nepo babies. Their old money mom is the head of a company that she inherited from her dad, their dad is the family burnout from a long line of politicians & he keeps getting jobs because his brother is the president/king/whatever Westeros has in this modern AU. Only Yorick would naturally have an employable skillset, & they all get well paying jobs/success. It is infinitely funny to me when I think about it in terms of the mechanics of how they all get where they're going

#personal #fic: sins of the father #Yorick majored in polysci & minored in english. he went to law school. he's friends with other nepo babies & loads of connections #ella got arrested for attempted arson once & consequently got kicked out of uni #this has not stopped her from having a successful fantasy book series about her incredibly elaborate self-insert #all her interviews are a nightmare #aemon literally just studied polysci bc yorick did & he was so had at it.#he did pro sports for 2 years before getting a cushy nepo job from either his mom or big brother #he got accused of doing manslaughter in the pit at a metal show & yorick got him out of it but even HE isn't sure if aemon is innocent #yorick & shireen try to keep their kids out of the limelight #& then rhaenyra leaked a photo of rhea biting her son to get pitty in the wake of some public scandal #meanwhile photos of ella on the beach with griffith like that photo of chris hemsworth & his son just ARE a meme #it leaks to the press aemon named his kid after his brother & everyone is just ''tf are those roycegaryen kids DOING???''

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synthville · 1 year

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so what im getting is that it was absolutely unnecessary to isolate raffi on gotham city in order for her story to go on.

a story that’s so halfhearted that five episodes in—halfway to the end. btw—her motivation is yet to be explained (why go back to this sector of intelligence work when teaching seemed to be fulfilling? was she made to do this?? did she volunteer because her son now lives on this planet now apparently?? was losing elnor cris and possibly seven so painful that burying herself in work seemed like a better option??? who knows! not me!!) and it’s definitely a retreat character-wise but the fact that they still haven’t laid the groundwork to make this stick is kind of amazing lol. it’s the way they’re not even pretending to give a fuck about her or any of the other women characters for me—they said you’re a womb or a subordinate ladies pick one and shut the hell up LMAO?

the fact that the ‘real plot’ is happening on that other ship while everything raffi does is basically an afterthought with backstory slipped in between the cracks like aged caulk is so disheartening and pathetic. star trek picard make an effort maybe. she’s a polarizing character that’s been stuck in impossible situations, weighed down with retractions and stereotypes (they thread the line but HM) because the narrative continually refuses to meaningfully engage with her and a lot of fans of the show wont examine their own biases to see why they have such a viscerally negative reaction to a complicated black woman character that’s good at what she does, knows it and refuses to kneel at the foot of their hero’s :)

and if it wasn’t for ms hurd elevating this performance with sheer will, massive talent and the whip of that (sexy) ponytail? shit would be so much worse. but it’s still bad! because instead of giving her a nuanced, thoughtful send off she’s once again being made to suffer for the nth time. because why? oh right so wise man worf can guide her to the light lol give me a fuckin break.

and it’s no accident that if you cut raffi out (which they literally did in ep4 miss musiker you WILL be avenged) the story could more or less proceed as usual. that’s by design.

because legacy characters or not, im simply not buying that the main white cast members (plus two interlopers idgaf about those new guys and they’re doing nothing to make me care either. pick a random channel and their stories are being told right now live and in color like don’t piss me off) just so happen to be on the ship with the lead yet the sole woc is sent away on some underbaked adventure because ‘reasons?’ please. this season literally could not be more transparent about the audience they’re catering to and who/whose stories are of importance and consideration.

and i knew this would probably happen once the premise for s3 was revealed but i still can’t get over how obvious it is that there really was no plan for raffi and that she only happened to bypass the cull of the la sirena crew because she was romantically linked with seven at the time. which is baffling considering how things are (not) going between them (#theyareMARRIEDletthemTALKandKISSandREST)

and it’s not just them like everything about this season is quite literally happening just because. every slightly interesting or fresh development (and character it’s true) from the previous seasons has been dismissed or diminished and for what? secret sons and man pain? ew lmao. no suspense no lingering threads just excessive shots of ships, an aggressive insistence on biological families and rampant, shameless references to past glory. a mess.

#doing everyone so dirty but it’s fine because ‘familiar faces’ yeah okay 👍🏾#like can we all be serious for one second lol #they’re not even trying.#at least if this season was good i would somewhat understand why they snapped my faves out of existence but it’s literally not #feels insane to see so many people praise this #is this really where we are as an audience? nostalgia = good? really?#and the new characters they chose to add? come on #no space for rios but yall had space for TWO random white guys?#a christmas miracle!#like the kid is one thing but captain crunch ? they’re playing in my FACE #like i don’t even have any firm feelings about him because he’s pretty much a giant bore but #seeing all these allowances being made for him because of what he looks like whilst raffi continues to get shit on irks me so bad #like i knew it would happen ive been alive in the world lol but still #unsurprising but irritating af that captain crunch can sulk around in all his dickheaded glory #and it’s fine because he’s gods most traumatized baby boy but let raffi lash out once and it’s questions about her competence #and calls to have her removed like oh what’s the difference i wonder #‘men can laugh while a woman can only chuckle’ -godforbid she be black and self assured- like that person was preaching i fear!#if this sounds bitter it’s because i am <3 #michelle hurd deserves so much better like someone pls get her a five season dramatic series on a prestige network asap!#looks at this dissertation i just wrote oops ain’t mean to rant like that but they forced my hand 😭#now to watch raffi’s spar scene on loop and forget about the show until thursday comes around and rattles my cage again lol #raffi musiker #.rfi #stpk

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