#these are just fun snippets really

[artmunstudios]

Your springs are reacting. You feel...embarassed.

I don't have the time to draw this out in a complete comic like I'd like to, so enjoy the drabble below in its stead! I was inspired from this scene from Hellboy. Also...a mild excuse just to write these two idiots at their peak dynamic. (to sum up: Pinocchio, a good influence on P? Questionable. A good brother from another reality? Perhaps. The Lampwick they are discussing is not the canon one, but @/wildartsstuff’s)

"Alright, let's see it," Pinocchio waved a hand out as he stepped into the room. "It is nothing," Pino had insisted yet again. His springs reacted to the lie, he thinks, but he was too distracted by the approaching puppet. “It is just a record.” “Nothing, huh?” Pinocchio pressed. “Yes. I enjoy listening to them?” “Yeah—and you always listen to them downstairs in the lobby, not in one of the furthest rooms away from where everyone else sleeps. You don’t even have Gemini on your belt.” “He is resting.” “Right.”

A long silence passed between them.

Wood was lighter than metal—that was just a simple fact. While Pino had become very light on his feet, the weight difference could not be ignored as he tried to keep the record album cover out of reach. Standing up only helped so much, despite the height difference. Instead, Pinocchio simply jumped on the bed, and without hesitation snatched the record album cover from Pino’s hand.

“…’Love Sonnets of Krat”…?” Pinocchio squinted as he read the title out loud. The two puppets exchanged looks. “Oh…buddy…” his brows raised as Pino shrunk back a little. “…don’t tell me this is about Lampwick.” At that, Pino finally slumped back to sit on the bed again. Pinocchio plopped down beside him. “He…makes me feel. He has been kind…and he teaches me things I never thought I would learn.” “You really need to get out more,” Pinocchio sighed as he lounged back. He grimaced. “Oh…fuck me, I’m starting to talk like Anthony.” He hung his head back with a groan. “Great…” Something about the look Pinocchio gave him made his springs and gears tighten. He assumed this was…irritation? “I really care about him.” They stared at each other. Pinocchio nodded, sympathetically. He pushed himself off the bed, and Pino watched the puppet rummage through the drawers and cupboards of the extravagant room. He made a satisfied sound at some point, pulling out a bottle of…if he recalled, the old woman by Venigni’s factory called it a ‘tipple’…?

He heard a popping sound, and Pinocchio walked back to sit beside him again.

“You’re in love,” Pinocchio concurred, and he held the bottle in his direction. “—have a drink.” Pino shook his head. “Can you drink?” “Yes—I can drink things, it’s the eating that I can’t really do.” “Do you wanna try?” His gaze shifted. “…I don’t think Father would approve,” “You have to go anywhere?” “Well…no, Venigni has to decode a—” “Just take a swig.”

He took the bottle, looking over the label before hesitantly raising the bottle to his lips. The flavor was strong, strong enough to make his joints jolt. He looked at the label again, quietly feeling a warmth fill his stomach. It felt somewhat similar to the warmth that would come when his springs would react to a lie, but…something told him this was different. “Good, yeah?” He stared at the bottle in wonder. “An old woman asked me to bring her some, once,” “She said that it was important for her to have.” Pinocchio snorted. “Oh yeah? “…Why not talk to your Geppetto about…what you’re feeling?” “…I…do not think Father would approve…” “Yeah? That a fact…” Pinocchio watched as he took another sip from the bottle before scooting back to lean against the pillows. Pino mimicked him, and the two sat side by side. “…Which song was it?” “The last one, I think.” Pinocchio flipped the album cover over in his hands, looking through the lists of songs. He looked up at Pino as though he were a sodding wet puppy lost in the storm that currently raged outside the hotel. “…’Aimer’…?” When he got a nod for an answer, Pinocchio heaved a long sigh. “Yeap, I’m gonna need a drink, too.” “It’s a nice song,” Pino insisted as he watched Pinocchio stand and walk over to the record player to place the needle at the beginning again. “I like it a lot.” “Ain’t that just the way,” Pinocchio sighed. “What way?” “It’s a metaphor, kid. Grimme that bottle.” Pino silently handed the bottle over to Pinocchio as he plopped back down on the bed. It surprised him, a little, that he could handle such a thing so palatable despite being a puppet. Wasn’t the feeling overwhelming?

The two sat in silence for a while, listening to the music that played while passing the bottle between each other.

By halfway through the second listen-through of the album, only a little less than a third was left. “Have you ever been in love…?” “Oh yeah,” Pinocchio scoffed loudly. “Lots’a times.” He took a long drink. “Fuckin’…fuckin’ sucks,” he said as he passed the bottle. “What did it feel like, for you?” “Like…like…you’re gonna throw up your insides,” Pinocchio gestured vaguely. “Your insides an’ butterflies an’ flowers…get all…warm ‘n fuzzy—just wanna curl in their arms all the time, feelin’ safe ‘n warm…” Pino was thoroughly confused, and he frowned. “But that doesn’t sound bad at all…” “You ever throw up before?” “No…I don’t think so,” Pinocchio was insulted. “Oh—oh he jus’ keeps on winnin, don’tcha?!” He said, snatching the bottle when it was held out to him. He glared into it. “Get to look all…human on the outside, like a…perfect pretty-boy,” he turned the bottle end upright when he drank. “—even the  people tryin’a kill you think yer…all hot, an’ now he’s sayin’ he never even…puked on the sidewalk,” he slumped back in a huff, and considered. “Well…just wait ‘till mornin’—you’ll change your tune then. Probably, if you actually can,” Pinocchio grumbled, absently tugging at the necklace under his shirt. “‘Ssat…?” Pino asked, gingerly taking back the bottle. “Whus what?” “Ssat—“ Pino poked at Pinocchio’s chest. “Keep my ‘gagement ring on a necklace,” Pinocchio said, pulling on the chain to hold up the plain gold ring attached to it. “Lose it if I didn’t—doin all…flips an’ stuff fightin…” “Who is she?” Pinocchio snorted. “His name is Razel. Think you’re the only gay…puppet twink?” He waved Pino over. “Gimme that, ‘m gettin ‘nother sip,” Pino pouted as he handed Pinocchio the bottle. “Don’t gimme that look,” “You…don’t like me, do you.” It came out more like a statement than a question. And for what it was worth, it did catch Pinocchio off guard. He stared at the automation for a long while. Eventually, he sighed. “No, I…didn’ ever say that—I don’t…not like you?” “You get angry at me all the time…and…everything about my…being, seems to upset you,” Pinocchio hung his head with an even longer sigh. “No, I…fuck, okay, look,” he pacifyingly handed the wine to Pino. “—allathat…it’s…that all ‘cause’of my own problems, got nothing to do with you,” he watched as Pino took a tentative sip before glancing away. “Ah…I dunno…jus’…jealous of you, guess...even if it’s all gone to hell here, you’ve still got it somehow made here!” He gestured widely. “You live in this fancy five-star hotel, you’ve…got friends, and actually manage to keep ‘em, your papa actually seems to like you…you didn’t even really have to learn to fight, allathat came natural!” He grimaced at the ceiling. “Then…there’s me—stuck in this…block’a wood, just about every friend I came across as a kid pretty much died…an’…papa…my papa’s…gone. Not that he liked me much, anyway…” Pino looked around the extravagant bedroom, his gaze settling on the window. He stared quietly at the raindrops that slid down the glass. “…You…can feel things,” Pino said, his voice quiet. “You always could have…you never needed to learn. You…can get angry, frown, and smile,” “You can do that too, though,” “Not smile. Smiling is…difficult. It looks…’uncanny’, that’s what I heard.” Pino looked down at his legion arm, flexing his fingers. “Appearances only go so far…when people hear my gears…they usually turn. I’m…not a who—I’m a what.” "'...s'all stuff you can learn, though..." "You can cry." "Can't you?" "I don't think so—I don't think I have tear ducts." They looked at each other, something in that silence making the two sober up a little. Pinocchio glanced away. “Right…guess…there’s always gotta be somethin’,” he mumbled. “I don’t like killing things, all the time…” “Preachin’ to the choir,” Pinocchio said. “What do I do after this is done…?” “Fuck if I know that answer—I barely knew what I was doing when I was actually a human.” They both grew silent again, somehow feeling drunker in those few minutes than when they had gotten halfway through the wine bottle.

“Bah, that’s it—sober moment over. Where…where is your lover-boat, anyways?” Pinocchio snuck in an extra sip before Pino had clumsily taken the bottle. “He…he’s…he…” Pino struggled to finish the thought. “Treasure.” He decided on. Pinocchio hummed. “Right, yeah…s’a…thing here, yeah…” Pino peeked into the bottle, fascinated by the way the red liquid rolled inside. He swayed side to side. He looked at Pinocchio as though he had suddenly sprouted butterfly wings from his ears. “…Huh?” “I said—” Pinocchio stopped, briefly forgetting just what he had said. “I said—what kind of market does this place even have?” “Oh, it’s…it’s…it’s…” Pino’s brows furled as he absently drank from the bottle. He had downed half of what was left without even realizing he had done it, for he was too focused on thinking. “Hey, hey—” Pinocchio swatted at his hands, managing to pry the bottle away when they became unsteady. “—you gotta…gotta take it easy, you can’t jus’ go an’—” “…s’like…jus’ one…” Pinocchio squinted at Pino as if he had suddenly sprouted the ears of a jackass. “Huh?” “Only…really…see one…” Pino motioned vaguely. “’ryone’s…i’side—inside…houses,” he made a box shaped gesture. “Windows’all…shut…’cept for…sometimes,” “Like tipple lady,” Pinocchio concluded. “Yes,” “Yeah,” “Mmhm.” “Got it.” Pinocchio took a sip, and then another. “Okay so…treasure…guy…” “Lam’wick,” “Yeah, that guy,” Pinocchio passed the bottle back, and heaved a deep sigh. “I wish Anthony were here…he’d know what to do—what to tell ya. He’s’a cricket, so ya know he’s real smart an'all, an’ gives good advice an’ stuff…” “Cricket…” Pino said, moodily staring down the bottle. “…Glow.” “Nope, not mine,” “No glow?” “No glow. He’s…” Pinocchio gestured high above his head. “..s’all tall an’…an’ he’s a doctor, he's…doctor, so all extra-smart…” They both grew quiet. “…I don’t…think he’d…like me,” “Wick,” “Mm-mm. Doesn’t like…puppets. Calls Father an me…devil,” Pino frowned. “’M notta devil, m' a…puppet,” “Preachin’ to the choir,” Pinocchio chorused. “Cross a bingo, take a shot—nobody ever likes us wherever we are,” Pino turned the empty bottle upside down. “Fox…an’ cat,” “Oh you got a pair too, huh,” “Cat…called me…dumbass,” “���bout right.” “Wick wouldn’…want a dumbass,” “Fuck that cat,” Pinocchio slurred aggressively. “You’re not—you’re…smarter n’…probably any version of us out there,” he shook Pino, drawing his attention away when the automation tried to use the wine bottle like a telescope. “’Sides, bein’…bein’ kinda a dumbass is our personal brand’a specialty. If Wick don’t want that then…then…he can…stick…” he squinted, trying to concentrate. “…’m too drunk to think of a insult, but…but that’s what you should think if that’s how he gets,” Pinocchio concluded as he flopped onto his back. He waved a finger in the air, mumbling something, but Pino was having a hard time concentrating on much else, at this point. He blew into the bottle, the loud sound coming from it startling him.

Polendina knocked before entering the room, Gemini in hand. “Excuse me, but your lantern keeps requesting to be with you, and it is important to not leave your items unattended…” he stopped short, watching the pair of raven-haired puppets snooze away while slumped over one another. “What the heck happened here?!” Gemini cried as Polendina stepped around to get a closer look. “Ah.” He picked up the empty bottle, having long since been abandoned at the bedside. “Ohh, I don’t think Geppetto would like this one bit,” Gemini said. “There is no need to say anything,” Polendina concluded. He set the empty bottle on the dresser, and placed Gemini at the bedside table. “After all, there are seldom moments of rest.” “True…I’ll keep an eye on them, regardless.” “I shall come by later to check in.” Polendina said, leaving for the door. He stopped, thinking for a moment before closing it.

Perhaps he should prepare some hot towels for when they wake.

[northern-passage]

[the-broken-pen]

love your writing yo can I ask for a little hurt-comfort mlm

“Oh. Oh. That’s—that’s a lot of blood,” the voice above him sounded strangled, like they were choking on every word.

The hero cracked an eye open, dizzy and cold and tired, and hummed something that could have been an agreement.

“Hey,” he said, voice raw, and his friend stifled a sob as they collapsed onto their knees at his side.

Their hands pressed hesitantly against the wound, and they were trembling. His hands were slick with blood. It took everything in them to drag them, shaking, to rest on top of his friends, and press down hard.

The pained noise he made caught in the back of his throat. Just barely.

“You have to press harder,” he managed. The pain had swelled to something almost unbearable. He was drowning in it, to the point where it was almost the kind of pain where it became something wretched, something else that swallowed you whole. “The bleeding, it—“ he had to stop, gasping for a breath.

His friend had started crying, but they pressed harder, dutifully. He loved them for it.

“I don’t know what to do,” they sobbed. “You don’t do hospitals. What do I do.”

He let go of his friends hand, digging for his pocket. His grip slipped the first two times; he managed it on the third, sliding his phone onto his stomach.

“Speed dial,” he offered, and closed his eyes before the look on his friend’s face made him vomit.

“Speed dial? Speed dial. Okay. Okay,” his friend said. “It’s fine. Everything is fine.” He was certain his friend wasn’t saying it to him. Their free hand scrambled for his phone.

By the time they managed to get it to ring, the world around him had turned into something muffled and cotton around him.

“You? You’re his speed dial—don’t…I don’t know what….bleeding…not responding…please, just….”

A crack cleaved the air, the smell of ozone suddenly stronger than the smell of his own suffering, and then a hand was replacing his friend’s. The other found the side of his face, thumb curving under his jaw.

“Hey,” and oh, he knew that voice—something raw in his chest eased. “Can you open your eyes for me?”

He managed, just barely, and the villain peered down at him.

“Hey,” he croaked.

“You’re bleeding out,” the villain said, and it was the softest he’d ever heard him. “You need care, or you’re going to die. Can I move you?”

Do you trust me?

“Always,” he tried, but it came out weak and desperate.

The villain pressed harder, and he keened high and pained in the back of his throat. On instinct, his hand darted up to the villain’s wrist, latching on too tight for anyone without superpowers to handle. The villain didn’t flinch.

“You’re okay,” the villain murmured. His thumb brushed over the hero’s jaw, soothing.

There was something the hero was forgetting—

“My friend,” he choked out. “Where—are they—where—“ he struggled to sit up, and the villain simply guided him back down.

“They’re fine,” the villain promised. “I sent them home. Maybe a little traumatized, but they’re okay.”

“Okay.” The hero nodded to himself, or he tried, or he didn’t. “Okay. They’re okay, okay, I’m—“

“Okay,” the villain finished for him, and even half sick in pain the hero could tell he was intentionally keeping his voice easy. “You’re okay. You’re going to be just fine, I promise.”

His hand shifted underneath the hero’s back.

“Breathe for me?” The hero tried, and managed a half wheeze. The villain just nodded. “Good. This is gonna suck.”

His other hand wormed its way underneath the hero’s knees. He blinked, trying to clear his blurry vision, and the villain stared at him. Barely disguised concern was written into every inch of him, like the only thing his bones could remember was panic. For him.

The villain was scared for him.

That was bad.

“What’s going to suck—“

The villain hauled him upwards, and his vision went white.

He woke up some time later, chest heavy and head floating somewhere above his body.

He hummed something that might have been a question, and the villain was above him in an instant.

“Are you in pain?”

The hero blinked at him for a moment. Mostly because he couldn’t really remember how to do anything else. The world felt sluggish. A second delayed behind normal. Which should have been concerning, panic worth and world ending, but it simply just…was.

“No,” he said finally, and his voice sounded weird. His throat ached, separated from him by a wall of warmth. “I was screaming?”

The villain swallowed, hard, and the hero managed to drag his gaze down to the needle and thread clutched in the villain’s hand.

“Yeah.” The villain sounded like he was choking on the words. “You were screaming.”

He opened his eyes whendidheclosethem and peered upwards again. He was on a couch. Or a bed? Bed, he decided a second later. The villain was kneeling next to him, and there was something soft tucked around his legs. He went to sit up, look down at his stomach; the villain’s hand came up to rest on his forehead, gently keeping him down. He must have made some noise of displeasure, because a moment later, the villain’s hand carded through his hair.

“Easy,” he murmured, focusing back onto the hero’s side. He heard the snip of thread; the sound of the villain throwing something onto a side table without care.

“What did you give me?” The hero’s tongue felt thick in his mouth.

“Lots,” the villain said.

“Lots,” he said back, managing to sound more incredulous than he actually cared to feel at the moment, and the villain snorted. “Haven’t heard of that one before.”

“Had to make something special for the boy wonder,” the villain smoothed a hand down his side, and the hero half leaned into it. Mostly he managed to sink further into the mattress. “You burn through shit fast, you know?”

The hero did know. He knew very well, unfortunately.

“Thanks,” he managed. His head lolled to the side without his permission, resting against the villain’s arm.

“You’re going to pass out again,” the villain informed him. He made a noise in the back of his throat that could have meant anything. The villain seemed to understand regardless.

Am not, he tried to say.

The haze of medication and blood loss stole him first.

The next time he woke, he was half sprawled against the villain’s side. Something cold was set onto his cheek, and he reached up to remove it, hand clumsy. The villain caught it before he managed to remove anything.

“You spiked a fever,” he said quietly. “I just got it back down. That’s probably why you woke up. How are you feeling?”

That was…a lot.

“No pain,” he said eventually. He thought he felt the villain give a heavy sigh of relief.

The world was clearing itself up bit by bit, settling the furniture back into the correct places until it no longer felt like things were sliding around him.

The villain’s hand was back into his hair again.

“Good,” the villain said, but the hero wasn’t really sure it was meant for him.

Something in his chest loosened.

“I thought I was going to die,” he admitted, and he wished his tongue was still numb, because the villain stilled, hand curled in his hair.

“That’s not what you told your friend.”

And yeah, the hero half remembered the pieces of that. A promise he was okay. Everything would be fine. He was always fine, wasn’t he? How strongly do you have to will to will someone to stay. Exactly how many pounds of force does it take to stop someone from bleeding out—

There was a chill curling itself around his ribs.

“I thought I was going to die,” his voice was raw. It wasn’t because of his throat. He sounded afraid, even to himself.

“I would never have let you do that,” he managed a moment later. His hand resumed in his hair.

And somehow, despite the knowledge of how hard it truly was to save someone, how long it took to learn that kind of information, the knowing of exactly what was survivable and what couldn’t be escaped, how strong you had to be to shift through rubble—the hero believed him.

“I know,” he said, because the villain had to know. That he believed him. That he would always believe him.

He melted into the villain’s side.

I trust you, I trust you, I trust you

The villain hummed, in that way of his that told him he understood exactly what the hero couldn’t vocalize.

“I’m your #1 speed dial?” He questioned after a moment.

The hero huffed a laugh.

“You’re my only speed dial.”

The villain froze.

And then he was shifting, pulling the hero closed to him. The villain tucked him close, chin settling onto the top of his head. The hero pressed his face into the hollow of the villain’s neck.

“I will always come,” he said, and this time, his voice was the one that was raw. “You call, and I will be there.”

He said it like it was easy. Like it was that simple.

Maybe it was.

Maybe for them it always had been.

A fondness he couldn’t put words too settled onto his shoulders.

He simply breathed into the villain’s neck, and the villain’s arms looped around him a bit tighter.

“You’re okay,” the villain said into his hair. Like he was confirming it.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re lucky you have super healing.”

“I’m lucky I have you.”

The villain laughed softly.

“Suck up.”

“And what? You gonna stop me?”

He could practically feel the eye roll. “Been trying for years. Hasn’t stuck.”

“Well, you had the perfect opportunity—“

The villain hushed him.

“Just. Shhh for a bit,” he said softly.

The hero, obediently, shhh’ed.

The villain’s hand ran through his hair again, and his eyes shuttered closed, settling further against the villain’s chest.

“Cheater,” he murmured, and the villain huffed a laugh, but didn’t deign a response.

And together, comfortably, curled around one another like two halves of a whole, they just breathed.

[cherryapplefish]

Summer Thoughts

Caleb x Reader

Rated: E for everyone

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: yah you call Caleb ge/gege in here. no, it's honorifics because your character starts off as 8! view this in the way you guys read about girls calling older guys "oppa" please. it's not meant to be anything more than that. caleb and mc are written as children here half the time. hope this helps.

You never actually learn how to ride a bike. 

And you don’t figure this out till you’re 13. 

At this point in your life, you’ve only gone bike riding with Caleb. He was the one who taught you so of course he’s the one who takes you.

“Why do you need to learn,” he asks, brows furrowing together half in confusion and half in annoyance. You huff and stomp your foot. You’re eight and all the other kids in the neighborhood know how to ride a bike but you’re still sitting on the back of Caleb’s. 

“You can just ride with me. I’ll take you wherever you need to go,” he continues. You roll your eyes, crossing your arms as you try to seem serious. Like a grown up. 

Caleb just stifles a laugh as he tries not to look away but you can see the mirth sparkling in his eyes and it makes you want to reach out and smack him for being so mean to you. You want to be taken seriously and: 

“The other kids left me because they didn’t have a seat for me and I didn’t know how to take yours. Teach me, gege.”

You whine, switching up tactics and latching your arms around his in an attempt to act cute. Caleb usually always gives in if you’re cute enough and when he doesn’t react, you press your cheek to his arm, squirming against him like the child you are. 

“Please. Please. Please.” 

Caleb sighs before a soft smile spreads across his face. He reaches out, fingers ruffling your hair before agreeing. 

That had been then. 

Now, you’re thirteen and stomping back inside with scraped knees and tears tracking down your cheeks. You purse your lips to keep them from quivering and head straight for Caleb. 

He pokes his head out of the kitchen when he hears the door slam and alert him of your presence, his eyes bright. 

“Hey pipsqueak- woah, what happened to you,” he says, setting down the wooden spoon he’d been using to stir the pot of braised pork he’d been making for dinner. He can see the way your cheek is redder on one side compared to the other and immediately makes his way over to you. 

You meet him halfway there and before he can get another word out, you sock him in the arm. You barely leave a mark but Caleb hisses in surprise, rubbing the spot. 

“Hey! What was that for? What happened,” he asks. There’s concern in his gaze as he reaches out to pull a leaf out of your hair. It’s clear you’ve taken a pretty bad tumble and for some reason, it’s his fault. 

“You’ve been using your evol on me when we ride bikes haven’t you,” you ask and he freezes. You can see the guilt flash across his face before he schools it into a practiced smile. The jerk! That was confession enough! 

“You caught me,” he answers, a cheeky grin on his face. He anticipates your movements before you do, fingers wrapping around your wrist that threaten to punch him once more. His grip is tight but not bruising and you huff as you try to pull away but he doesn’t let go and so instead you try the other one. 

Caleb knows you inside and out so he stops that arm too and now, the both of you are standing in the middle of the living room. You, huffing with anger and embarrassment, and Caleb, guiltily smiling with both of your hands in his. 

“Caleb! Do you know how embarrassing it was? I fell. As soon as I got on and tried to push, I fell because you didn’t bother to teach me properly,” you argue and you see the guilty look on Caleb’s face before he pulls you into his chest. He wraps his arms around you, patting the back of your head. 

“Aw, I’m sorry pips,” he says but you can tell he’s trying not to laugh. “I just got scared every time I saw you leaning to one side so I used my evol. I didn’t think you actually couldn’t ride a bike without my help.” 

It’s a half truth, he thinks as he bites back a laugh when you begin to hit his back. It’s fine. He’ll let you get out all your anger as long as you rely on him for help. 

“It was so embarrassing, ge,” you complain before slowly you fist your fingers into his shirt. “I scraped my knees and fell on my face. It hurt a lot.” 

Caleb knows. He’d seen it all when you came in and pursing his lips together, he pulls back to examine you properly. Normally, he’d cup your face and get a good look but he doesn’t want to risk hurting you more than you already feel. 

With a soft sigh, he strokes your cheek. 

“I’m sorry pipsqueak. I really am. I’ll make it up to you and actually teach you how to ride a bike okay?” 

You look away when he pulls back, fingers still fisted in his shirt but you nod anyways. 

As long as he actually taught you. 

-

Caleb is a liar. 

He still never actually taught you how to ride a bike and now, you’re 22 and staring Caleb down as he pats the backseat of his bike with a grin. 

“Jump on, pips,” he tells you and you cross your arms, huffing as you turn your nose up. 

You think back to thirteen and scraped knees and immediately get mad at him. 

“Don’t wanna,” you argue and Caleb laughs. You’re tugged in by nothing but you’ve been around Caleb long enough now that you know he’s using his evol to pull you closer. You don’t even yelp as you’re lifted onto the seat but you do look away as you cross your legs. 

It has Caleb laughing even more. He took pleasure in watching you be an absolute brat. 

“You’re not still mad I never taught you how to ride a bike are you,” he asks and there’s that same sparkle in his eyes from all those years ago. 

After he had promised, he had made excuses. 

He was too busy to teach you. He was too tired to go outside and they could build models instead. He would just take you on the back of his to save time. 

It’d been excuse after excuse and before you knew it, Caleb had gone off to Skyhaven for college and you still hadn’t learned how to ride a bike. 

Could you have learned on your own? Yes but…but it was scary when you didn’t have Caleb around to catch you. And so you’d never learned. 

Now, that unfulfilled promise comes back to mind when Caleb suggests a bike ride along the river. 

When you huff in response, his grin widens. 

“I’ll teach you next time,” he promises and you glare at him and he loves it because at least your gaze is back on him once more. 

“You said that last time!” 

“I mean it this time,” he replies, his grin wide and full of delight. You have to look away in case you melt and agree like you always do. 

He leans over then, one arm wrapped around your waist to steady you as he presses a kiss to your temple. 

“Promise,” he whispers softly into your skin. 

You smack him away, a complaint on the tip of your tongue but you hold back and instead, your fingers curl into his shirt. 

“Just pedal,” you grumble, forcing him to face forward as you press a burning cheek to his back. Your eyes glance over the glimmering river as the last of the sun's rays sparkle across it but you’re too focused on how warm Caleb’s back feels, the sound of his laughter vibrating in his chest. 

You press closer, hold him tighter just as he had wanted, and inhale. 

Somehow, even after all these years, Caleb still smells like home. 

i don't know how to ride a bike and if caleb were real, this is exactly how i imagine caleb would react lmaooo

"You don't need to learn. Just ride with me."

excuses because he wants you to hug his waist hahahahah

[irisfixation]

putting a major character into a story where everyone has unique superpowers or magic or whatever. establishing, on their introductory scene, that this particular character has mind control powers.

and then having that character.... sit there, among the ensemble cast, through pages and episodes and films and years. with that one fundamental fact of their introduction still known and understood: this character can dominate the minds of others.

and yet - never betraying their friends, never scheming or being shown keeping secrets or manipulating others, not even by the narrative framing. no veiled hints to latch onto. they have this power. it does not matter. the story continues until it does not, until its conclusion has been reached.

and time carries on and lets the unspoken question of the narrative's trustworthiness gnaw through the audience like a parasite.

[little-mouse-adventures]

Currently thinking about Artemis's will in the code at the bottom of TLG and how it really kinda shows how strained his relationship with his dad still is. Everyone else gets something they're interested in or that Arty thinks they'd like (sound system for Juliet, frozen chicken for Mulch, ethical investments for his mother, etc) and yet for his father he leaves only bearer bonds, despite Artemis I trying to move away from a money-focused enterprise and lifestyle as of TEC. Not to mention it's Butler who would know how to disengage all the booby traps protecting said bearer bonds, further highlighting the difference in trust & familiarity Artemis has with everyone but his father.

[jjcocker]

[alackofghosts]

vierapril day 15 - alternate universe

[wikiangela]

tease tidbit tuesday

it's Tuesday somewhere so starting it off early lol

after 7x09 I had like 4 new ideas (plus maaaany more non-episode related ideas, istg lately there's so many, I don't know what to focus on lol my brain feels loud, and I feel like I'm writing a hundred things at once, I've been a chaotic mess this month istg) but for now im trying to focus on this one fic, and trying to finish whatever this is before the next episode

for now, here's a bit of bucktommy at the medal ceremony after the encounter with gerrard

___

He could punch Gerrard in the face. He really wants to, and if it was a couple years ago, he probably would – but he’s at a work event, the guy is a Captain, unfortunately, and Buck just got a medal, he’s not risking his job right now. He’s not the same impulsive kid he was seven years ago. He’s heard enough stories from Chimney and Hen, and recently some vague ones from Tommy, to know that he hates their old Cap. Tommy seems to want to open up to Buck, to let Buck truly know him, but talking about that past, about himself back then, about the whole environment is not easy, and Buck gets that. They have time to get to know each other, neither of them is going anywhere. Buck’s certainly not planning to, and when Tommy says he isn’t, either, Buck finds himself trusting him, which is very new but so exciting.

“It’s- well, it was to be expected.” Tommy shrugs, his face a careful, neutral mask that Buck’s just starting to learn to see past, then sits down when they approach the table, putting his plate down – they’re sharing it with Eddie, Marisol and Christopher, but the three of them are still at the buffet getting food. Buck takes a seat next to him, then scoots his chair closer – close enough that their knees touch, but far enough that they still appear professional. “It just threw me off. Actually, threw me twenty years back for a moment.” he huffs an unamused, bitter laugh.

___

no pressure tags: @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @watchyourbuck @loserdiaz @ladydorian05 @diazpatcher @monsterrae1 @weewootruck @spagheddiediaz @rainbow-nerdss @epicbuddieficrecs @pirrusstuff @nmcggg @rogerzsteven @bidisasterevankinard @giddyupbuck @sunshinediaz @honestlydarkprincess @911-on-abc @jesuisici33 @steadfastsaturnsrings @buddieswhvre @fortheloveofbuddie @daffi-990 @hoodie-buck @aroeddiediaz @thewolvesof1998 @exhuastedpigeon @underwaterninja13 @spotsandsocks @hippolotamus @your-catfish-friend @dangerpronebuddie @neverevan @loveyouanyway @tizniz @theotherbuckley @diazsdimples

[wackywatchdotcom]

Rewatching episode one, I noticed that when Ragatha and Jax are talking to each other about Jax having a key, Pomni flinches away from, and lifts her arms to protect her face and head, when Jax toys with the key and catches it near her.

I wonder if she is that jumpy around others normally or if it's just when she's in a stressful situation (like suddenly being trapped in the circus) what do you think?

OK. ok. you mention this. and ive never said anything about it but i have genuinely noticed this almost every time ive seen that scene. i think about it a LOT but i havent been able to figure out my thoughts on it. but i think about it genuinely a LOT...

(i went on a huge tangent abt her thats like. only sporadically related to this specific moment SORRY. it was hard to address this moment without discussing a LOT about her i feel)

for the sake of clarity in the event someone reading this is unfamiliar, what this ask is referring to is this:

with the way that she so quickly dissociates and HARD (not that most people Never experience dissociation or smth, but its the intensity of it and how quick into this situation she starts dissociating is like. it makes it seem like its smth her body and mind are Used To Doing) she REALLY gives off the feeling that she had pre-existing mental health problems (i struggle to place anything TOO specific with the limited information we have but i feel like theres definitely a few things she has going on) before she even got to the circus, and like she COULD just be a naturally jumpy person, but with the dissociation thing and general distrust towards others, it feels like her jumpiness is also related to these issues

while her being naturally nervous is sort of implied and clear (though i think the extent of it is exaggerated by the circumstances of the pilot in particular) there ARE a few other examples that stand out to me

i THINK this can largely be passed off as her just being on edge from the horror adventure, but i this is IS notable that she reacts genuinely pretty strongly to what is a relatively minor 'jumpscare.' it happens later too w kinger pressing the tape recorder

in general she seems VERY easily startled by people, and frankly it reads a lot like it stems more from people being near her than just things happening abruptly. she notably doesnt jump hard when the angel arrives- she DOES get scared, but she isnt necessarily startled. she DOES react very strongly to ghostly, but i think its notable that she seems to find his visual appearance frightening and debatably not necessarily startling, but thats not really 100%. the times she reacts the strongest have to do with people, which imo ties HARD into her not trusting people

episode 2 breaks down her distrust of people well, and i dont think its a self consciousness thing. it seems more that she just doesnt tend to find people trustworthy- if something bad was happening to her, she would sooner assume theyd let it happen rather than help her. it could be argued that its partially a guilt or projection thing with ragatha, but im not actually so sure. pomni seems to be ashamed of leaving her behind, but particularly through ep 2 she doesnt seemed Plagued With Guilt by the way she acts towards ragatha, which implies that the dream didnt have to do with her projecting that shame in a way shed assume ragatha would turn back on her, too

it instead seems to be that she doesnt trust ragatha just... in general. the 'im not a child' thing, while a legitimate problem for pomni to have with ragatha (i love ragatha, and from my place in the audience i know her concern is genuine, and that she truly wants to encourage pomni, and is trying, but from the perspective of people around ragatha, its not an unreasonable assumption that shes JUST being infantilizing and belittling), does illuminate how pomni is seeing ragathas attempts at cheering her up- that it comes from a place of seeing pomni as immature or generally unstable. that pomni is incapable of managing herself and needs to be coaxed. it implies pomni doesnt see ragathas attempts at help as genuine. combined with her dream, that ragatha would allow the worst to happen to her even when she was asking for help, makes it very clear that, even with the 'nicest' person in the circus, pomni just... doesnt really trust her

(it is worth noting that pomni DOES seem to genuinely want to help ragatha in the pilot. she DID try to find caine. but she bolts at the first opportunity. she does care about people, but when stressed, she operates on keeping herself safe first and foremost, that she needs to do anything to get out of a bad situation even if that means leaving someone behind- and with her dream, it does seem that she generally assumes other people operate similarly, or otherwise in their own best interest)

this does, of course, improve by the end of eps 2 and 3. the funeral, and ragatha offering to include her, and how the others talk about abstracted players (combined with her conversation with gummigoo, someone who she has to assure has genuine friendships with those around him despite the lack of a true reality for them to be based upon), are able to convey that oh, these people do actually care about the people around them. theyre being genuine. they arent just looking out for themselves and thats it- they care when bad things happen to each other. and theres no true reason for me to be an exception. which is ALSO why i dont think its a self consciousness thing, she seems able to reason that shes not an exception to the intents of others, so much that when she cant assure herself that others' intents hold her safety as any sort of priority as well, any trust goes out the window. she WANTS to help if she can, but esp in the pilot, as far as shes concerned, its everyone for themself when shit gets bad, including herself

ep 3, she seems more trusting of ragatha- she has neutral and positive interactions w her, rather than assuming a lack of sincerity in it. but its not just ragatha, actually, because even before her talk with him, you can see it in how she interacts with kinger as well

she initially tries to help him run, which isnt too out there- with how she genuinely DID initially try to help ragatha, it doesnt require her to go out of her way to grab him and RUN. she can run AND take him with her. she can help without putting herself in extra danger. but then she DOES go back, which is one of my favorite and imo underrated pomni moments. because THIS is what i think actually highlights an improvement in how she sees the others before her apologizing to ragatha or taking kingers hand. because she puts herself BACK into (percieved, since its not actual sure WHAT the angels intentions were her) danger in order to get kinger away too

(theres probably a case to be made that ragatha didnt seem to be in immediate danger- she was in pain, that much was clear, but kaufmo had ran away by then. but even still, pomni couldnt have known kaufmo would shift gears and start chasing her instead of ragatha that first time. and i dont know if she actually knew death wasnt possible here yet. which isnt very flattering for pomni but also people do not act in flattering ways under extreme stress, esp given a predisposition to not trusting others, which ill elaborate more on in a second here- not that pomnis abandonment was ok OR that it was like evil of her or smth. shes just a person. there is no way she was prepared to know how to act correctly in this situation, and she didnt)

theres also this

which is SUBTLE but highlights a genuine increase in trust even before their heart to heart. now that she knows the cast (save for jax, who she seems to react to the harshest, which is worth noting imo) are not acting solely in their own best interest, that they WILL consider the wellbeing of those around them including her, that their concern for one another is genuine (which is concerning that she even assumes that to begin with, which ill circle back to momentarily), she very clearly has way more faith in them and the idea that she should stick around the others for safety

and of course, ive said it before, but her taking kingers hand has little to do with her enjoying holding hands. its her knowing that, if kingers wrong, this is going to end very, very badly. if holding their breath isnt the solution theyre BOTH going to get possessed, and who knows how theyd get out of that situation. but she decides in that moment that her trust in the others isnt ONLY about looking out for them and believing that theyre sincere in their concern for her. but that she is willing to let the others put her at a potential massive risk. getting possessed was a blatantly immediately traumatic experience- and she lets kinger put her at risk of it happening again. THATS why she holds his hand, at least symbolically. she doesnt like contact. but she can brave something that she doesnt like, she can let him lead her into and through something potentially horrific, because shes deciding to trust him and the others, that theyre not just people she can interact with without fear of ill intentions, but that theyre people who she is going to coexist with. the best thing she can do for herself and the others is trust them and work with them actively

anyway that got off-track, the point being that her having to have these ideas instilled in her at all through shared experiences and trauma implies that, while these issues with distrust may have been exacerbated by the stress of everything, they didnt come from nowhere. these are problems she likely already had to some degree. its great that theres been improvement but that improvement directly implies thesse were improvements that needed to be made to begin with. and the fact that the person she gets repeatedly most startled by is jax. who, even with episode 2, she explicitly doesnt trust. in the pilot, at least, her distrust is more vague (i think the dream sequence in ep 2 IS what highlights it best) so her flinching from jax can be passed off as related to a general lack of adjustment to the new environment and situation shes in. but it happens again with jax in episode 3 (and, notably, she pauses afterwards but it takes a moment for her to relax even knowing its just jax), after shes adjusted somewhat, and after shes gained some trust with everyone except for jax (given his absence from the scene at the end of ep 2). it also happens when barons voice plays abruptly next to her

point being that imo, she IS naturally jumpy. she says herself that she doesnt handle jumpscares well, which somewhat implies this even outside of the circumstances of the circus. but with how she reacts to things, it feels like her general jumpiness is far, far worse when it comes to people she doesnt trust (be it because jax is Like That, or because shes not familiar with baron). the way i see it, then, her distrust extends to perceiving physical threats easily around people she hasnt ensured are safe to be around. she IS able to gain this trust in people, but she seems to automatically place the intents of others as being Potentially Unsafe from the jump, especially under stress. she can jump back from it fairly quickly for what its worth, but to be honest, it seems more like she operates on some general, everpresent level of hypervigilance thats just sometimes worse based on the situation

and frankly i dont think we know enough about her as of ep 4 to fully determine if there IS a reason for this. because someone can have a reason to be this jumpy around others, or they can just... be nervous and dislike people moving suddenly near them. combined with the dissociation thing, though, im inclined to think the circus did not cause this, just made it more extreme with more unpleasant stakes. there is hardly any time between her entering the circus and this happening. she hadnt even seen kaufmo yet in that very first example, but she was already on alert for a physical threat, and i just. i think about it all the time...

i think the main takeaway from all of this is that i think she isnt necessarily jumpy like that all the time, but i think trust is not a given with pomni, and her jumpiness massively depends on how much she trusts people near her and the situation shes in to not be a physical threat to her. its definitely worse in the circus, but i think it was probably still something present in a different context in the real world, too

[5-turtleducks-in-a-trenchcoat]

I just started another relisten of rqg and I thought it would be fun to animate that moment from episode 4 when Bertie drops a piano on a guy.

The audio of the piano falling down is piano crash.wav by CGEffex on freesound.org because apparently I'm not allowed to throw my mom's piano out of the window.

I also put just the backround under the cut because I do kinda like it.

[tracle0]

Snippet Sunday VIII

I think it's the eighth Sunday...? Maybe maybe! Here's some prophet story I wrote freshly for you (yes, you!)

A hand raised to his chest, trying to find the mutilation that had forced his ribs to poke out like ageing farmhouse fencing. His skin was sealed, unblemished under his fingers; sticky from his blood, but otherwise untouched. An identical inspection around his throat found the same. No hole for pathetic, fleshy pleas to wheeze through. All fixed. All perfect.

“You saved me,” he finally whispered, eyes wide and awed. “You – you didn’t have to, but you…?”

The Blight – previously quiet, considerate, letting him get to terms with the gift of his life – curled in his head, content. You’ve done me well, it said simply. I don’t want to lose you yet.

He probed carefully at his skull, hair sliding between his fingers. He could see where shards of his skull had been ejected, pick them up and inspect them, but he found no hollows in his head, no blemishes. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I… thank you.”

Your brother is almost here.

Cain blinked, the brief memory of something – a squirrel? – flashing through his mind, before he shook it away, focused. “We should go, then,” he said, starting to stand. The ground glimmered. His surroundings groaned and sobbed, the forgotten guards whimpering and wheezing, the fury surrendering them to shock and agony. “To Body?”

It hesitated. As he started to walk past a pair of guards, one pinned down by the other, bloodied and bruised, it drew his attention down to the ground, to a discarded knife next to the freed, fighting pair. See if you can slow him down, it suggested idly.

[northern-passage]

[redo-rewind-if]

Spoiler Alert: It's a gun. 🔫(。・ω・。)

[aces-to-apples]

I'm gonna be real, so little of previous games have actually mattered in any way beyond flavor text that I literally could not give less of a shit about this whole debacle. Like it's such a non-issue to me. Idk what games y'all have been playing for 15 years but truly this is the norm. Barely anything carried over from Origins to Hawke and all pretty minor shit, and I genuinely cannot think of anything beyond flavor text carrying over to Inquisition. Oh you could customize Hawke and they can answer a few vague questions with vague bullshit? Cool, presumably that's what the Inquisitor will give us. Like idk guys but I think maybe building up your expectations for a decade has had a detrimental effect on what should be reasonable expectations for a video game that's truly been in development hell for like eight years and wants to be functionably playable to brand new players without alienating them.

[tunastime]

CLASSIFIED

HASA Interspace Investigation Coalition Investigator Reassessment Team

For: the Mission Critical Event Occurring on Stardate 2104.119

Stardate: 2104.123, Location: HCS Influence

Responses recorded using the Automated Question and Answer System (AQNA) aboard the HCS Influence.

Recorded responses enclosed.

Begin transcribed data.

Interview for: IIC Employee #7717

Stated Name: Hels

SESSION BEGIN

AQNA [Generated Text Question]: Please explain the events of [stardate 2104.119]. Subject (Hels) [Recorded Verbal Response]: Well that’s an easy question. We got ambushed, that's what f—ing happened. It was supposed to be a standard datum extraction from a site that was supposed to be abandoned, because nobody decided it would be a good idea to check again. So we got ambushed mid-mission. That's what happened. AQNA: Can you elaborate on the event that triggered the call-back sequence? Hels: What, you want me to draw you a diagram? [No AQNA Text Question Generated] Hels: So no diagram? [No AQNA Text Question Generated] Hels: The drop-squad successfully made ground contact after about half an hour of survey on our end. We assumed based off of initial information and our scans, that the site was uninhabited. I mean—it’s a decommissioned testing facility for something way more boring than what we’re usually sent for. Why the f— would there be… things living there. Things. They weren’t human. They weren’t me either. We triggered the call-back sequence because I watched everything go white so fast I thought I was seeing the inside of my skull. Ex is the only reason I got out alive. I’m sure he’s… thrilled. AQNA: Were you unable to retrieve the body and equipment of [#7716]? Hels: I didn’t see him. On account of the pulse grenade. Did you watch the footage, or should I be playing narrator? [No AQNA Text Question Generated] Hels: I don’t know where he is. I don’t know what they did to him. We lost all his vitals when the pulse fried our equipment at the site.  Interviewer: Can you elaborate on the status of [#7716]? Hels: What do you mean elaborate? What—he’s probably dead. Is that what you want to hear? He’s f—ing dead. He’s dead, you piece of shit machine. Go ask somebody else what they think. [No AQNA Text Question Generated] Interviewer: Can you speak to [#6763]’s competence as potential squadron leader? [No verbal recorded response available]

SESSION END

Interview for: IIC Employee #6763

Stated Name: Exania

SESSION BEGIN

AQNA [Generated Text Question]:  Please explain the events of [stardate 2104.119]. Subject (Exania) [Recorded Verbal Response]: We failed to complete our extraction procedure. I was able to reach the data site within an hour of touchdown, alongside the rest of the team. We successfully retrieved the abandoned facility data within our allotted time frame, but on the way back to extraction, we were ambushed and caught in the line of fire of the inhabitants that had taken over the facility. I was able to successfully extract the bridge crew and one other member of the drop-squad. AQNA: Can you elaborate on the events that triggered the call-back sequence? Exania: We were attacked? Someone started shooting. Someone threw a magnetizer and a pulse grenade. The two other drop-squad members took a majority of the flash, but it was bright. Everywhere was... painfully bright. I don't have much more to say on that. I just acted in the best interest of the team as second in command. AQNA: Were you unable to retrieve the body and equipment of [#7716]? Exania: He’s dead. What did you want us to do? Retrieve a handful of charred up equipment? I don’t think so. AQNA: Can you elaborate on the status of [#7716]? Exania: He’s dead. That’s it. AQNA: Can you speak to [#7717]’s competence as potential squadron leader? Exania: #7717? I can't.  AQNA: Can you elaborate? Exania: I can't. AQNA: Can't? Or won't? Exania: Does it matter? [No AQNA Text Question Generated] AQNA: Please elaborate on your specific involvement with the events of [stardate 2104.119]. Exania: I successfully extracted information from the facility on [REDACTED]. I successfully extracted my drop member #7717, Hels. We were unsuccessful at a full extraction of the entire crew. Look, did I not just say all of this? What's not clicking for you? I know you're just recording this answer looking for keywords. I'm not daft. I think we’re done. AQNA: You're excused. Exania: Thank you.

SESSION END

Interview for: IIC Employee #7716

Given Name: Wels

SESSION BEGIN

AQNA [Generated Text Question]: Please explain the events of [stardate 2104.119]. [No verbal recorded response available] [No AQNA Text Question Generated]

END SESSION