I just really enjoy the game and want the fandom to grow
-Requests are closed!-
And here are some reasons to convince you to read this book!
-These oneshots are gender neutral
-And even though the reader is in them there is no use of Y/n
-I try to...
ೃ⁀➷ This chapter contains spoilers for the Real Boy ending also credits to OhmygOth on Tumblr for today's prompt idea other than that enjoy :)
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The air within the room held a mixture of anticipation and trepidation as Pinocchio stood before Geppetto. The old man's words, laden with a sense of finality, hung in the stillness of the moment. The puppet's wooden eyes met Geppetto's gaze, reflecting a blend of gratitude and uncertainty.
Geppetto's decrepit hands, etched with the passage of time, moved with a certain grace as he gestured toward Pinocchio. The dim light cast shadows on the intricate patterns of the room's wallpaper, adding a touch of theatricality to the scene.
"You have been a brilliant and a good boy," Geppetto intoned, his voice carrying the weight of years spent in pursuit of creation and control. The words seemed to linger in the air, resonating with the history shared between creator and puppet.
The promise of transformation hung palpably in the atmosphere, a moment that could redefine Pinocchio's existence. Geppetto's offer, to turn the puppet into a real boy, held the allure of a dream deferred, now on the precipice of realization.
As Pinocchio processed the gravity of the old man's words, the room remained suspended in time-a cocoon of possibilities and uncertainties. The flickering light from an old lamp added a touch of theatricality to the scene, casting shadows that danced along the edges of the room.
In the stillness, Pinocchio stood poised at the threshold of a profound metamorphosis, his wooden form carrying the echoes of countless adventures and trials. The outcome of this momentous choice would shape not only the puppet's destiny but also the intricate tapestry of Geppetto's legacy within Hotel Krat.
The weight of Geppetto's demand hung heavily in the air, and Pinocchio found himself at a crossroads. The puppet's wooden heart, a symbol of his unique existence, was now the focal point of a crucial decision. Geppetto's voice, a blend of authority and familiarity, echoed through the room, creating an atmosphere fraught with tension.
"Give me your heart, son," Geppetto practically demanded, his words carrying the weight of both expectation and command. Pinocchio's gears whirred, processing the gravity of the situation. The puppet, with his wide eyes and trusting demeanor, still saw his creator as a true father figure.
In the stillness that followed, Pinocchio grappled with the decision before him. His internal mechanisms churned as he considered the implications of surrendering the very essence that defined him. The room, adorned with remnants of forgotten stories, witnessed the silent struggle within the puppet's artificial consciousness.
Despite the weight of the request, Pinocchio's trust in Geppetto remained unwavering. In a moment of unspoken allegiance, the puppet extended a hand, reaching toward the cavity where his wooden heart lay. It was a gesture of unquestioning faith, a poignant display of the bond between creator and creation.
