#Geppetto you're next...

[lilac-cat-draws]

How I feel after the DLC without context

[nocchiopuppet]

Pinocchio × Puppet!Reader - Headcanons

- The first moment he met you, he'd try to fight.

- After noticing you're self-conscious and have free will just like him, he'd definitely give you a chance to prove you're not like the others.

- A lot of silence, a lot of talking, it's 50/50. You both would go out in missions and return without speaking a single word, but the moment he felt comfortable enough, he'd talk about everything, everything his dad doesn't talk to him, everything he notices around and has no one to share it with, but now, this person is you. This young puppet is also a very good listener, paying attention to every comment you'd bring up.

- Every kind of interaction he learned about humans, he would try to remake to you. Giving flowers? Yes. Doing small favors whenever? Yes. Complimenting you every time you wear something new? Yes. It makes him feel human more than anything.

- Pino wouldn't be overprotective on you in battles, he knows very well you're strong, skilled, and can take care of yourself by your own. He would disappear for a few minutes and come back with useful stuff he found on the streets. Since you're a puppet too, being seriously injured wouldn't scare him, after all, Eugenie, Venigni or Geppetto can fix you later.

- Your P organ. Everything said before is not considered here, it's all fine until you get damaged next to your heart. He'd be desperate and do anything he can to protect you while you're not in safety. Pino will protect your P organ like it is his own on. Gettingg your heart destroyed means getting his partner away from forever.

***NSFW***

- Haha, funny, you're both puppets, you just don't.

ty for reading <33

[milk-is-stable]

For the Family-Ch.1

Grandmother's Gift

Next Chapter

Summary: Maria Clarissio has a secret: the women in her family have always had a gift, and her grandmother made her promise to use that gift to protect their family, no matter the cost. And the cost is certainly high, as Maria's life is thrown into disarray again and again. Will she have the strength to do what needs to be done to keep her family together?

Word Count: 1,704

Read on AO3: HERE

CW: Minor Character Death

— — —

When Maria Clarissio is ten years old, her grandmother falls ill and summons her to her room. The late afternoon sun pokes through a gap in the curtains, casting a golden beam of light across the room and throwing the old woman's face into shadow as Maria cautiously approaches the bedside. 

"Ahhhh, Maria," she says, her voice raspy and weak from her latest coughing fit. "Come in, come and sit beside me. I have something to discuss with you." 

Maria pulls up a stool next to the bed and her grandmother looks her up and down, a calculating glint in her eye.

"What is it you want to tell me, ava?" Maria asks, and her grandmother takes her hand in hers.

"The women in our family have a gift, mia nipote," she says. "And it is time that I passed the knowledge of this on to you."

"A gift? What kind of gift?" 

Her grandmother reaches up with her other hand and taps Maria on the forehead, right between the eyes.

"The gift of Sight, child. We can see things other humans cannot see. Beyond this simple, material plane lies other realms: the realm of the mind, the realm of the spirit, the realm of the fate...we can see past the mortal veil and harness what lies beyond."

Maria frowns, and her grandmother chuckles. 

"I see in your eyes that you do not believe me. Perhaps you think me a rambling old fool, addled by age or by fever? No, mia nipote. Close your eyes, and I will show you." 

Maria obeys, and as her eyelids flutter shut she feels a warmth spread from their joined hands and through her entire body. Her grandmother does not speak aloud, but somehow Maria still hears her voice in her mind, as though she is speaking directly into her thoughts.

"Look, Maria. Look deep into the void and tell me what you see." 

At first there is nothing but darkness behind her eyes, but as she casts her mind outward, shapes begin to materialize, blurry and indistinct and yet instantly familiar to her. 

"I see...I see Mamma and Papá," Maria says, and she feels a pulse of positive emotion from her grandmother. 

"Good. And where are they? What are they doing?" 

Maria focuses, and the blurry figures become clearer, their forms more precise and their voices audible. 

"Papá is in his workshop," Maria says, tilting her head as she listens. "Mamma has just come in from the vineyard...she is teasing him for spending all his time cooped up inside...Papá is showing her the dolly that he is carving and she is smiling at it and he is smiling at her." 

Maria gasps and her eyes fly open, and her grandmother nods in approval. 

"You see now?" she says. "My mother had the Sight, and her mother before her, and her mother before her."

"And I have it now too?" asks Maria. 

"Sì, mia nipote. You know I have no daughters of my own, only sons. At first I thought that my piece of the power would die with me, but when your mother gave birth to you and my Geppetto placed you in my arms, I could sense that you also had the gift." 

"So it's like magic? What else does it do? Can it–"

"This is serious, Maria Clarissio!" her grandmother snaps, and her grip on Maria's hand turns vice-like as she glares at the girl. "This is not some frivolous thing to be used for cheap tricks or idle fancies. We live in a world full of darkness, and it is our responsibility to use this gift to protect the family from malevolent forces!" 

"Mi dispiace, ava," Maria says, tears welling in her eyes. "Mi dispiace...please let me go, you're hurting me!"

Her grandmother sighs and releases her grip, and Maria pulls her hand away, trembling slightly.

"Listen, Maria," her grandmother says. "Ordinarily, I would not tell you of this now; you are still far too young. I myself did not begin to train until I was sixteen. It takes a strong mind to hone this power and use it wisely. However, my time on this earth is drawing near its end, so the knowledge must be passed on now, before I am gone." 

"What do you mean?" Maria asks, her eyes widening. "Papá says that you will be better soon..."

Her grandmother chuckles, and shakes her head.

"Your papá is a good man, but he is also a fool," she says. "He thinks that by sparing you the truth, he is protecting you from the harshness of this world. But in doing so, he is leaving you unprepared for what is to come. Besides, he cannot see what I can see."

"What...what you can see?" Maria repeats in a shaky voice.

"The Sight comes differently to each of us," her grandmother says. "You can train to see more clearly, the way you can learn to make a better minestra di pane by practicing over and over, but a part of the power will always come naturally to you, the way some are born with a beautiful voice to sing. And the thing that I have always been able to see most clearly is time, Maria. I do not have long left with you, and so you must begin to develop your Sight now. Soon it will be your responsibility to protect the family." 

"Protect it from what, ava?" Maria asks, and her grandmother reaches forward and cups her face. 

Her hands are thin and bony, but there is still strength behind them, despite her age and illness. Maria can feel the years full of labor and hardship the woman has lived in the roughness of her skin as she strokes her cheek.

"From the world, mia nipote. Protect them from the world."

Every day from that moment onward, her grandmother trains her to use her Sight. Maria spends hours sitting beside her and clasping her hand, opening her mind to the power she carries within. She learns to let her awareness of the physical world fall away and to look with her mind's eye at the unseen world beyond the veil. Sometimes her grandmother guides her, but most of the time she acts only as an anchor and leaves Maria to navigate the visions alone. 

"I will not always be here to help you, mia nipote. You must learn to do this on your own, you understand?" 

It is on one of her unguided attempts that Maria first sees her. 

At first she cannot tell that it is a “her” at all, she merely senses a presence that she's never felt before. She focuses on the presence the way her grandmother has taught her, trying to see the shape of it, but the vision does not appear fully formed the way that people in the present or moments from the past do. It is more like the one time her grandmother showed her how to look into the future: vague flashes of sensation and vision all fighting for dominance in her mind's eye.  

The first thing she sees is just color, an impression in her mind of blues and silvers twisting and blending together. Then, out of that swirl of color and light she catches a glimpse of a delicate crown, a curled lock of hair, a gossamer wing like that of a dragonfly. She hears a laugh floating in the air, then feels a cool touch against her cheek. 

"Go back, little one. You are not ready." 

Maria gasps and opens her eyes, dropping her grandmother's hands. 

"Why did you stop?" her grandmother asks sharply.

Maria describes as best she can the unfamiliar presence, and her grandmother leans back against her pillows, stapling her fingers together. 

"Ahhh...you have seen into the realm of the fate. It could be that this is what your Sight is most inclined to show you."

"Why did the voice say I wasn't ready?" Maria asks. 

"The realm of the fate is not like that of the mind or the spirit," her grandmother says. "While most people do not realize it, humanity is still intrinsically tied to those realms. However, the realm of the fate is something else entirely, and what beings you see there have a power far greater than our own. They can be very dangerous, and must be dealt with delicately. You should not attempt to go there again for now."

"But if this is the realm my Sight is trying to show me–" 

"You need more practice, mia nipote. I will hear no more of this. Come now, close your eyes and tell me what your father is doing right now."

Maria sighs but obeys, closing her eyes and clearing her mind. 

"He is with Mamma in the vineyard," she says after a moment. "They are talking about..." she pauses, and feels her grandmother's grip on her hand tighten.

"Go on," the old woman says, and Maria swallows.

"They...they are talking about how I spend so much time here with you these days. Mamma is worried, she says that it is not good for me to be cooped up inside all day without any other children to play with, but Papá says...Papá says that you just want to spend time with me before the end." 

When Maria Clarissio is ten years old, her grandmother dies in the middle of the night and she is the first to know. She bolts awake with a headache so intense that for a moment she cannot even see, and then she feels the absence. A presence that had once been an ever-present cocoon around her is gone, forever out of her reach. She runs to her grandmother’s room, and even though she knows what she will find, her screams still wake the whole house. 

When Maria Clarissio is ten years old, her grandmother is buried under the fig tree at the edge of their vineyard. She clutches her papá's hand and stands at the freshly dug mound of earth, a tear sliding down her cheek as she reads the words on the gravestone. 

A benevolent soul in a malevolent world.

— — —

AN: This started as a concept for something post Grape Depression, but then I got way too into Maria's backstory and character and now it's a full character study of pre, during, AND post Grape Depression, whoops. I promise we'll get to the original point after a few chapters, haha.

Next Chapter

[aphelys]

One headcanon of our cute Pinocchio....

(how beautiful is this cute little thing playing with the kitten)

_he's just a little puppet who doesn't know what feelings mean, so you can expect him to get lost in cute and romantic moments, but have a little patience with him

_Pinocchio would definitely be afraid of hurting you, as he has the strength to dismember a títere and he's even felt the sensation of flesh tearing and bones breaking in his hands, and he doesn't want that at all, so every touch of his is careful and worried.

_He's very polite and kind, and a true knight, so expect kisses on the backs of your hands, him bowing slightly to you, and even him pulling you into a dance when he puts on a record.

_Definitely nicknames, like my little doll, my butterfly, my beauty, etc. (Aw what a cute little thing!).

_When he comes back all hurt and broken, from his battles, he runs into your lap, he can be very strong and agile but at that time he just wants to be your fragile and crying doll, thinking I think he would lie just so you could take care of him longer.

_He loves it when you choose his clothes, or do his hair, when his hair grows, you can wait, him sitting on the floor in front of you while you're sitting on the couch, just for you do a hairstyle on it

_Kisses, oh well, kisses on the cheek, forehead and nose, and all the time, he always looks so embarrassed when you give him a surprise kiss

_When he arrives at the hotel and you are already asleep, he will lie down next to you and put his head under your chest or rest his head on your belly.

_He loves hugging you, he feels a warmth in his chest, you can expect him walking behind you wanting attention

_In the choice that Geppetto gives him to give him his heart or not, he would certainly deny it, thinking that he wouldn't want to abandon you, and that if he accepted you would be alone.

[naivesilver]

Literally no explanation as to why I woke up so early this morning thinking about them, but the idea wouldn't leave me alone, so... enjoy?

⁓⁓⁓⁓⁓

Gina cracks an eye open and immediately notices two things: one, it's very much night-time still, and two, there's a suspiciously Pinocchio-shaped and not-sleeping lump under the blanket.

She resists the need to sigh - growing ducks should have plenty of sleep for their peace of mind, and that's simply not possible when there's a boy writhing like an eel in the bed with them - and stands up, waddling over and burrowing under the covers herself. "What are you doing?"

Pinocchio has the grace to look a little guilty when he notices her, at least, or maybe it's just that it's kind of dark in there, and Gina's eyes are still droopy and tired. They get to have a nightlight now, along with the faint glow coming in from the window, but neither of those can do much with layers of wool and fabric in the way. "Just thinking."

"Well, whatever you're thinking about- can't it wait? You've got school in the morning."

Instead of saying she's right, which would be the wise thing to do, Pinocchio makes an odd face, all scrunched up and thoughtful. "I was thinking about school."

"Really?" Gina struggles to believe it, but then again, the nose didn't grow, so maybe she's about to be surprised.

"I was thinking- most people at school have a mom and a dad, right? Or at least one of those. Or something like that."

"That's how the world works, Pinocchio. Lots of people we met had a mom and a dad."

"But I don't have any of that. Is that weird?"

"We're both weird already, it's not a new thing." The duck yawns - she's really not in the mood for deep thoughts, especially not way after their bedtime. "And you had old Geppetto, anyway."

She probably shouldn't have mentioned that, because he goes very still for a moment, looking away from her. Neither of them really regrets staying in Storybrooke, but it remains a difficult thing to talk about, even after so long. "Yeah, but he was old," the boy mutters, muffled against the bedsheets. "Old like a grandfather. Like Mr. Marco. He didn't count."

Gina hums distractedly, not knowing what to say next. She's not quite sure there is anything she can say that would make things better - Pinocchio didn't lie this time, either. She was right the first time: this is simply how the world works, and they couldn't change it even if they tried.

Perhaps there was no need to say more, though, because after a moment Pinocchio speaks up again, even quieter this time: "D'you think August would want to be my dad?"

To her credit, Gina does consider it intently, tired or not. "Maybe. He locks your window and comes to pick you up from school. You should ask him."

"What?" The puppet scoffs, like he does every time he thinks she's said something ridiculous. "No. That'd be stupid. I always get in the way. I bet he doesn't want me around more."

He rolls onto his side, then, stifling a yawn of his own and rubbing at his eyes. "Maybe I'll ask him when I become real. Maybe he'll say yes, if I'm not a puppet anymore."

The logic is far from sound, but by now they're both too drowsy to care, so Gina only nods, padding closer to him and curling up again under his chin. "Maybe. But it's late now. We'll think about it in the morning, okay?"

"Uh-uh," Pinocchio mumbles, not sounding like he's paying attention at all. "Goodnight, Gina."

"Goodnight, Pinocchio," she says, and closes her eyes, ready to drift back to sleep-

-even as she distantly hears the bedroom door click, as though it had been left ajar before and someone had just bothered to close it.

[lopposting]

So, I have some mixed feelings about the Rise ending. I don't know, it's complicated. At the centre of the game seems to lie a father-son relationship and the lengths of approval. You are "punished", in a sense, if you decide to hand your heart to your father. But it does still technically "reward" you with approval in the good ending with his acknowledgement. I thought it would've been really interesting if Geppetto says the exact same thing as the Free from the puppet string ending ("I knew it, you're just a useless puppet") in the Rise ending, but in a different tone.

[I know this is a complicated subject, and I'm sure that many people may have some personal perspectives on this, but I hope people get what I'm trying to get at]

But after some time, I think that the apology is not really for the audience, it's for P. The apology is a worthy inclusion, not because Geppetto needs to be redeemed, but because without it, the only "wrong" option is to seek his approval. Maybe his acceptance isn't the "right" thing to want, or what we "should" want [I don't mean in a moral way] - but Pino isn't wrong for wanting it.

Or maybe he is, I don't know. But I think, despite everything - it's still what Pino wanted. and I think it does provide him with a bit more closure and peace than something else. (And it can do this while also not portraying it as the "healthiest" thing to want.)

And I think that's what they're showing us with the extra shot of him looking over the balcony. There's no other purpose of this scene [I mean other than establishing the next scene for the audience], and In his reality, it would've been completely silent. He's just looking at the view. Not even listening to music. And then he finally goes to sleep.

[hopefulvittori]

Kindled emotions

Pinocchio (Lies of P) x OC/Reader

Angst/Fluff

So this is my very first fanfiction... To be honest, I was kinda afraid to post it at first, but every starts are always the hardest. Sorry about my english in advance, I'm not a native speaker. I only created this blog as a placeholder because AO3 has a pretty long inv queue nowadays. As soon as I have an account, I'll post my upcoming fics here and there. :)

As his journey goes on, the puppet of Geppetto starts to experience fear and doubts about his circumstances. Luckily, a certain helpful falcon helps to take that despair away.

──────────

Pain wasn't foreign for the puppet of Geppetto. At least not anymore. He noticed a few changes ever since he started his journey. It hurt him when the frenzied puppets hit him with a candle holder or a shovel. Or when the monster-turned infectees latched themselves onto him. 

Yet, this kind of pain was different. It came from his chest area. It was suffocating. 

Ever since he dealt with the Black Rabbit Brotherhood and saw that painting, he's been thinking a lot. Every time he was close to shutting down, the woman in blue always stayed time's hand from claiming him. And despite his struggles, he always saw his father - his creator - watching that portrait with melancholic fondness. Oh, how he wished that his only family would've looked at him with similar tenderness...

He started to feel fear. Fear from the uncertainties of his time-manipulating circumstances. What if the next of his perilous endeavours will be the last? What would his father think of him then? Will he be sad? Disappointed, maybe both? Questions, yet no answers.

"Are you okay, pal? You've been spacing out a lot lately." Gemini asked him with a worried tone. His green light flickered in the dark streets of Rose Isabelle.

It was all true. He has been extra cautious when it comes to his stalking. Krat was certainly a dangerous place to live by, especially with these frenzying puppets and monsters around. Despite that, although slightly, his non-legion hand was shaking. He couldn't feel the sword in his hand the way he held it before. His cerulean gaze was glued to the ground. 

He felt cold...

"H-hey! Watch where you're going or else we'll be--!" Even though the puppet guide in the lamp tried to warn him, the encounter was inevitable. A large number of frenzied puppets fell from a storeyed house. Screaming like wild animals, they were lunging themselves towards the puppet of Geppetto. He reacted as quickly as he could and turned his back on his desired destination. Although he avoided getting clobbered by the puppets, he couldn't stop one of them latching itself onto his leg. Trashing against his captor, the boy managed to get himself free and cut it down with a single powerful strike. Then he ran away with the feeling of hopelessness and confusion.

He didn't even notice that lack of the lantern's green glimmer. The hostile puppet managed to grab Gemini and drop it to the ground. It couldn't see where the puppet boy ran off to nor warn its partner in crime as the impact managed to turn it off.

───── ⋆ ─────

The Falcon felt quite tired after spending the night on the streets of Krat, getting rid of the maddened puppets. With each strike, her indigo dress was painted with oil. She felt the taste of iron in her mouth. It sickened her. 

Separating her lance into two blades, she finished her work on the last two or three automatons. Electric sparks lightened the darkness as her enemies lifelessly fell into the cold stones. She sighed in relief while sheathed her swords. She saw no other puppets on the streets. None, except one. The Falcon noticed a familiar lanter lying on the ground. Its side was kinda battered.

"Cricky? What happened?" She asked as she picked up the lantern. No response. The lack of his peculiar green light worried her. Then she suddenly remembered how its owner turned it on and off. She looked for a button on its side. With a "click" and its signature green spark, the lantern turned on. 

"T-t-tori?" Though her distorted voice surprised the stalker, she was more annoyed about calling her that silly nickname.

"What happened to you?" She asked. 

"I-i don't know. There were... so many puppets and... and..." He said with fearful hesitation.

The Falcon looked around, searching for the signs of Gemini's owner. Did the puppets get him? He was pretty much inseparable from his lantern. Something bad must've happened.

"Where is Speckles?" She asked slowly. 

"I'm... n-not sure. One of the puppets grabbed me a-and... and..." Even though it felt kinda impossible, Gemini sounded like it was in despair. Its entire purpose was to guide its owner. Without him, no wonder it sounded so lost.

The Falcon grabbed the lantern and strapped it on her belt. Her hand rested on its form as some comfort of sorts. She didn't say anything but started her search for the puppet of Geppetto. She knew his nature. He was pretty much an Ergo-harvesting automaton. She always felt the sweet scent of life on him. It was both of her blessing and curse to being attuned to those souls, feeling their desires as her own. She followed that odor of the puppet's Ergo. She always found his scent quite nostalgic. Like settling around a fireplace after getting away from the cold rain or snow. It was warm. 

She stalked around Rose Isabelle streets for almost an hour. Luckily, she felt it. The scent of Ergo got a lot stronger inside of an abandoned storeyed house. She was careful though. Her steps were light as a feather when she started searching through the home. There she heard it: a quiet but hasty heaving. It came from a bedroom. The Falcon doubled her steps, carefully opening the door. Then she slightly gasped at the sight that awaited her. 

The puppet of Geppetto sat before a bed. His frozen expression was lightened in the fireplace's gentle gleam. It was subtle, but his eyes were staring forward in shock. Lips parted and gasped for air. 

It seemed that he was searching for some sort of solace. To remind himself of the comfort of his home. Yet despite his endeavors, he clearly failed to calm his nerves. 

"Speckles? What are you doing here?" The Falcon asked gently. She hoped for a response, yet the boy couldn't even look at her. The woman got closer and crouched before him. Even like that, the puppet failed to notice her presence.

Judging by his body language, he had a panic attack. The stalker didn't know that this was even possible. He was a puppet after all. Yet even though she had questions, she needed to wait for answers. 

"P?" The woman tried to call out for the boy once again. Only this time, her hand found its way to the puppet's human one. To the Falcon's surprise, it felt wet. His hand was drenched in sweat. She placed her other hand on his freckled cheek, forcing him to look at her. Despite tilting his head towards the woman, his eyes were unfocusing. 

"It's alright, P. It will pass." She said gently, stroking his cheek. "I'll stay with you until this is over."

Then she felt it. His human hand gently squeezed hers. He showed her appreciation in a way he could in this situation. She warmly smiled and sat beside him. She petted his fluffy chestnut brown hair while holding his hand.

"Try to control your breathing. It will help you calm down." She continued on as she showed it to him. "Take a big breath... keep it in for a bit... then breathe out."

She kept doing it until the puppet of Geppetto tried to do something similar. Even though he couldn't look at her, he tried to do his best to calm his breathing. His shoulders rose and fell in a more rhythmic manner.

"That's it, P. You're getting better at this. You're going to be alright." The Falcon said in an encouraging way.

His chest heaved less and his eyes became more focused. He needed a few minutes before he could finally look at her. He tilted his head a bit slightly to the right, eyebrows raised in a questioning manner. 

The Falcon smiled at him, unstrapping Gemini from her belt in the meanwhile. The boy was surprised to see his puppet guide in the hands of the stalker woman. 

"Some puppet must've snatched it. I found it after you hid here." She explained quietly, handing over the small puppet to its owner. The boy gave her a small smile as his appreciation. 

"What happened?" As she asked, his simper disappeared. He tried to avoid her stare, but the Falcon searched his gaze curiously. 

"I..." His lips were parting slowly, but no more words came out. She knew now: these feelings were beyond his comprehension. He wasn't ready yet.

The Falcon shifted and sat before the puppet boy. She grabbed his automaton arm and gently squeezed both of his hands.  

"I see now. You can't tell me, can you?" She asked quietly. 

The boy nodded curtly. 

"...Because it's something you can't exactly explain." She continued. 

He blinked a bit before nodding again. The woman averted her gaze and looked at the fireplace. 

"The flames partake in such warmth. To wash away the pain."

The puppet raised an eyebrow curiously. 

"Oh, just a phrase someone I knew used a lot..." She said with a tint of melancholy. The Falcon shook her head. "Anyway... if you have any doubts, you don't need to be afraid. I know how these new feelings and doubts can burden one's heart. But..." She gave him an encouraging look. "When you're ready to tell me about them... you know where you can find me. You can always partake in this warmth." 

This woman - this girl - intrigued him to no end. Sometimes she was witty, yet showed kindness to others. Even strangers. She was willing to sit with him, helping to understand these new emotions without asking anything in return. His doubts were washed away in those sea of flames she spoke of. As he held onto her hands, clutching them like small, fragile things, he felt... safe. Like a warm blanket, this new feeling covered his entire being.

He felt warmth...

Without hesitation, he leant towards the Falcon and gently pressed his forehead to hers. Her breath hitched as her entire body froze. His human hand shifted to stroke her long ashen brown hair. His eyes were closed as he tried to express the gratitude he had felt. Then a small smile appeared on his lips as he felt her being relaxed in his grasp. Her hand found its way to his arm as a way of support. This situation was also new to the stalker. Her kindness was appreciated. Her words didn't fall on deaf ears.

It wasn't in vain.

Realizing this, she gave out a sigh of bliss. The Falcon felt a bit light-headed from the content she had felt... or maybe from the tiredness. Her head slowly slipped from the boy's forehead onto his left shoulder. He gave her a mild puzzled look as his arms encircled around her form. Each time she sighed, her shoulders were rising. The puppet of Geppetto could've sworn he heard her snoring. He felt his gears moving a bit faster as he looked at her peaceful form. The Falcon completely tired herself out, yet she found the strength to help him. He carefully scooped her up and laid her down onto the bed. He watched her serene face as a content smile appeared on her lips.

"Geez, she is completely tired herself out. Just to look out for you." It was a genuine surprise how long Gemini has been quiet. Its voice was kinda raspy from the damage it sustained, but it survived worse situations than this. The boy was fully convinced that it was fine when the puppet guide suggested to draw a mustache and a monocle on her face. With a deadpan face, he reached for his lantern.

"Imagine her reaction, that would be price... Wait wait! I was kidd--" With a loud "click", Gemini was turned off. The puppet of Geppetto quietly sighed as he sat down next to Falcon's resting form.

Morning wasn't coming any time soon. He could wait until down to make sure she gets some rest. As he watched her defenseless form, his hand reached for hers. He gave her a last squeeze before standing up and reaching for the door.

"Sweet dreams."

──────────

In the original storybook, the Falcon was a minor character. It was the Blue Fairy's helper who rescued Pinocchio from hanging. I thought it would be a neat idea to put P in a similar but symbolic situation. He was literally suffocating from his fears and doubts until the Falcon tried to make those feelings go away. :) Btw my OC just loves giving nicknames yet she hates being called Tori (her real name is Vittori, her nickname means "bird" in japanese).

Once again, sorry for any grammatical errors. I hope you enjoyed this story filled with angst and fluff!

[the-damnable-fool]

I love Lies of P, but the story really could've stood to have a bit more discipline in terms of its writing. I'm really sick of games establishing a really interesting antagonist (the puppet frenzy/geppetto) only to throw it out in the final half so they can bring out a hitherto unknown secret twist villain and completely fuck up the themes that the game has been building up the whole time. The Evil Within 2 did this too, and I wasn't a fan of it then, either. Basically what I'm saying is that Simon Manus didn't need to exist. He's a weak villain with uninteresting motivations. The entire game would've had a much stronger story if Simon, the Petrification disease monsters, and the alchemists had been thrown out. I would've given anything for a more satisfying exploration of the puppet frenzy instead of Simon's weak ass "I'm gonna make a world with no lies" shtick. Give me more awakened puppet characters. Give me better exploration of Geppetto's motivations and more foreshadowing of him as a villain. Give me more background on the MC and the King of Puppets. Explore the actual relationship between puppets and humans before the collapse and the abuses they suffered. Don't just throw all of that away so that you can have a crummy twist villain. The worst part about it is that you can already tell that a lot of things had to be cut from the story. A lot of Gemini's lines insinuate that he's got lost memories, but that never gets resolved. The Legendary Stalker is name dropped a couple times, but I don't know if they ever have any impact or are given any background. Eugenie's memory loss is completely unexplained, if I'm not mistaken. The Black Cat and Red Fox seem like they could've used a lot more exploration as characters, because the writers seem to think you're way more invested in them as characters by the end than I actually was. Lastly and most egregiously, I don't think they ever really explain why the puppet frenzy happened or why Geppetto lost control of it, and it pisses me off. I know that soulsbornes are known for their vague storytelling, but the entire inciting incident of the story you're trying to tell is something that begs explanation. I'm really hoping that the game gets the sequel that it teased in the end cutscene, and I'm really hoping they have the time, budget, and discipline to create a more focused narrative next time.

[larz-barz]

Shrek:

"Once upon a time, there was a lovely princess. But she had an enchantment upon her of a fearful sort, which could only be broken by love's first kiss. She was locked away in a castle, guarded by a terrible fire-breathing dragon. Many brave knights had attempted to free her from the dreadful prison, but none prevailed. She waited in the dragon's keep, in the highest room of the tallest tower, for her true love and true love's first kiss." [Laughing] Like that's ever gonna happen.

[Paper Rustling, Toilet Flushes]

Shrek:

What a load of--

[Toilet Door slams]

Shrek hops out his outhouse and his routine like taking a mud shower and farting in his pool.

[♪ All-Star By Smash Mouth Playing]

Steve Harwell:

♪ Somebody once told me the world is gonna roll me, I ain't the sharpest tool in the shed. She was lookin' kind of dumb with her finger and her thumb in the shape of an "L" on her forehead. The years start comin', and they don't stop comin', fed to the rules and I hit the ground runnin', didn't make sense not to live for fun. Your brain gets smart but your head gets dumb. So much to do, so much to see, so what's wrong with takin' the backstreets. You'll never know if you don't go, you'll never shine if you don't glow. Hey, now, you're an all-star. Get your game on, go play. Hey, now, you're a rock star. Get the show on, get paid. And all that glitters is gold, only shootin' stars break the mold. It's a cool place, and they say it gets colder, you're bundled up now, but wait till you get older. But the meteor men beg to differ judging by the hole in the satellite picture. The ice we skate is gettin' pretty thin, the water's getting warm so you might as well swim. My world's on fire, how 'bout yours? That's the way I like it and I'll never get bored. Hey, now, you're an all-star. ♪

[Shouting]

Steve Harwell:

♪ Get your game on, go play. Hey, now, you're a rock star. Get the show on, get paid. And all that glitters is gold, only shootin' stars break the mold. ♪

[Belches]

Villagers:

Go! Go!

[Record Scrating]

Steve Harwell:

♪ Go. Go. Go. Hey, now, you're an all-star. Get your game on, go play. Hey, now, you're a rock star, get the show on, get paid. And all that glitters is gold, only shootin' stars break the mold. ♪

Villagers:

Think it's in there? All right! Let's get it!

Villager 1:

Whoa. Hold on. Do you know what that thing could do to you?

Villager 2:

Yeah, it'll grind your bones for its bread.

Shrek:

[Laughs] Yes, well, actually, that would be a giant. Now, ogres-- they're much worse. They'll make a suit from your freshly peeled skin.

Villager 3:

No!

Shrek:

They'll shave your liver. Squeeze the jelly from your eyes! Actually, it's quite good on toast.

Villager 3:

Back! Back, beast! Back! I warn ya!

[Gasping]

Villager 3:

Right.

[Roaring]

[Shouting]

[Roaring]

[Roaring Continues]

[Shouting Continues]

Shrek:

[Whispers] This is the part where you run away.

[Gasping]

Shrek:

[Laughs] [Laughing] And stay out! "Wanted. Fairy tale creatures." [Sighs]

Guard 1:

All right. This one's full. Take it away!

[Gasps]

Guard 2:

Move it along. Come on. Get up!

Captain of the Guards: Next!

Guard 3:

Give me that! Your flying days are over.

Captain of the Guards: That's 20 pieces of silver for the witch. Next.

Guard 4:

Get up!

Captain of the Guards: Twenty pieces.

Guard 5:

Come on!

[Thudding]

Guard 6:

Sit down there! Keep quiet!

Bear:

[Crying] This cage is too small.

Donkey:

Please, don't turn me in. I'll never be stubborn again. I can change. Please! Give me another chance!

Old Lady:

Oh, shut up!

Donkey:

Oh!

Captain of the Guards: Next! What have you got?

Geppetto:

This little wooden puppet.

Pinocchio:

I'm not a puppet. I'm a real boy.

Captain of the Guards: Five shillings for the possessed toy. Take it away.

Pinocchio:

Father, please! Don't let them do this!

Captain of the Guards: Next.

Pinocchio:

Help me!

Captain of the Guards: What have you got?

Old Lady:

Well, I've got a talking donkey.

[Grunts]

Captain of the Guards: Right. Well, that's good for ten shillings, if you can prove it.

Old Lady:

Oh, go ahead, little fella.

Captain of the Guards: Well?

Old Lady:

Oh, oh, he's just-- He's just a little nervous. He's really quite a chatterbox. Talk, you boneheaded dolt--

Captain of the Guards: That's it. I've heard enough. Guards!

Old Lady:

No, no, he talks! He does. [Moves Donkey’s lips] I can talk. I love to talk. I'm the talkingest damn thing you ever saw.

Captain of the Guards: Get her out of my sight.

Old Lady:

No, no! I swear. Oh! He can talk!

Donkey:

[Gasps] Hey, I can fly!

Peter Pan:

He can fly!

Pigs:

He can fly!

Captain of the Guards: He can talk!

Donkey:

Ha, ha! That's right, fool! Now I'm a flying, talking, donkey. You might have seen a housefly, maybe even a superfly, but I bet you ain't n

hehe >:3

love shrek frfr😌

[turnupswritessometimes]

Ricordami - Lies of P - P/Romeo - Ch2

A03 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56555755/chapters/143738143

Summary: P decides to repair the king of puppets. It sends him on a journey to discover what happened to Carlo and Romeo - and to discover whether puppets can love, after all.

Previous (First) | Next

2

"You're distracted."

It was Geppetto, who said it. His father. The one who created him. P blinked. He sat in the chair, in his father's rooms, very still; he always had to sit very still, in this chair. His chest was open, as his organs were repaired. Upgraded. It reminded him of what he was.

"I was thinking," he said. He was now – about what Romeo had told him. About what he had been made for.

His Father made a sound in the back of his throat, like he was amused. P looked at him, careful not to twitch.

"What were you thinking about?" Geppetto asked, as though he was indulging a small child; as though P couldn’t really think.

P kept his gaze steady. It was a dangerous admission, but he wanted to see any change to his father's expression, no matter how small, when he said, "The king of puppets."

And there it was. A twitch. Just a twitch of Geppetto's mouth.

"And what about the King of Puppets?" he asked, as though they were discussing the weather.

P listened to the ticking of his inner workings, for a moment. He could not say the full truth, and luckily, he didn’t have to. But he also didn’t want to return to Romeo with no new information, and he wanted to tell him something. Something useful.

"There was another puppet inside."

Geppetto stopped. Just for a moment. Then he reached for another tool, as though that had always been his plan. P felt the click as his insides were adjusted.

"It was human," he continued. “Human-shaped.”

"I see," Geppetto said. "A human puppet within the king of puppets."

As though he didn't know anything at all. He finished his repairs, and closed P's chest cavity. His palm stayed pressed there, and his father seemed to be in deep thought too.

"Do you know who he was?" P pressed.

"Just another aspect of the King of Puppets," Geppetto said.

"But he was..." P looked up, meeting his father's eyes, and the word almost faded. He finished, "Different."

"How was he different?" Geppetto brushed the hair back from P's face, almost absentmindedly. He didn't like the movement; it felt too intimate; too much like he was a pampered child. Had Carlo felt the same way? Was he feeling Carlo’s feelings?

P looked over his father's shoulder. "He was like me."

Geppetto paused.

"Well," he said. "You don't need to worry about that, any longer, now that he's been destroyed."

Now that P had destroyed him.

And repaired him.

P forced himself to ask, before he lost his nerve. "Did you build him?”

"The King of Puppets was a special case. It had to be. It was a king, after all. It needed a suit to appear as one."

P wondered if he should say the name. If he should say the King of Puppets was a he and he was called Romeo. But, he hesitated. He didn't know how his father would react, though he had a suspicion it would not be well. He needed to make sure it was the right time, to reveal what he knew.

"But that doesn't matter now." His father cupped his chin, and tilted P's head up. He didn’t resist, but he was finding that he didn’t like that, either. "He's destroyed. You destroyed him, son."

It was said gently, but it felt like an accusation. Yes, P had destroyed him. He'd killed Romeo.

And that had been what his father had wanted.

So, he tried Venigni, instead. Waited until his legion arm was stuck in the great clamp, and Venigni was improving it for him.  

"There was another puppet, inside the King of Puppets," he said, and watched Venigni's face closely; just as closely as he’d watched his father.

He raised an eyebrow, glancing up at P. Vaguely interested, but nothing more. "Is that so?"

"Do you know anything about that?"

"I'm afraid not, mi compange. I designed the King of puppets, but I am not cut out for the building."

P stayed silent. He looked down at his legion arm, in the clamp. It was held so tightly that he couldn’t move it at all. He wondered, again, why his arm was a weapon. Why, if he was Carlo, his father had not made him perfect.

"I did not design it with another puppet inside," Venigni said. "Though, I suppose that is clever. It would put less strain on this big joints if there was a heart controlling it. If that puppet got damaged, it would be simple to switch it out."

Switch it out. Puppets were disposable parts. He'd seen that, at the factory. Reams and reams of blank puppets. That was him, too.

Venigni must have seen something on his face, because he said: "Of course, you are different, my friend. You're unique."

P nodded. It was truer than Venigni knew. He was unique, because he carried Carlo's Ergo inside him. But he was still a puppet. If his father had used Carlo's ergo like this once – would he do it again?

And wasn’t Romeo unique too? Wasn’t every puppet unique, if they all had their own individual Ergo?

Venigni patted his shoulder. P nodded again, and tried to smile. It felt forced, and awkward, and yet, Venigni smiled back as though nothing was wrong.

He supposed that was what puppets were made for.

*

There was nowhere private to talk to Sophia. He had the nagging thought that no one else could see her. He wasn’t sure when that had started, or when he had really thought that, but he thought it, now. He'd never seen her speak to the other members of the hotel. He’d never heard them mention her. She was another one of his secrets.

"Who was the King of Puppets?" he asked. She stood at the gramophone, but for once P didn't want to listen to it.

"What do you mean?" Sophia asked.

"There was a puppet inside. He had the necklace."

The necklace that had made his hair change. That had made him look so ill and pale, according to Sophia. That had sent that spear of heavy, horrible feeling all the way through to his core. He watched her face closely. She frowned, seeming just as perplexed.

"That necklace belonged to one of the boys, at the Monad Charity House. I remember that much," she said. Carefully. As though he would break if he learnt too much at once. "But that boy had nothing to do with the King of Puppets."

But he did. That boy had been within the King of Puppets. It was clear that Sophia didn't know that. Still P nodded, as though his question had been answered. But she was still watching him. She raised her fingers, and brushed his hair. Not like his father had. As though he was made of glass, and her touch would break him, but she still couldn’t help herself.

"You changed, after that fight."

P nodded. "I'm still trying to understand why."

Though he thought he was putting the pieces together. At least some of them. He held Carlo's ergo in him. Romeo had meant a lot to Carlo. That piece of him had remembered. That had been why he’d felt that rush of grief – that rush of horror, at what he’d done. What he didn’t even know he’d done.

He knew that part, now, but what had happened before? How had Carlo and Romeo's story ended?

Sophia smiled at him. "I support you, whatever you decide to do, my clever one."

It should have felt reassuring; it usually did. But he wondered, this time, if it was really true. If she knew that he'd repaired Romeo, would she still support his choices?

That was it. The only people he could reliably ask about the past. P wasn't sure where else he could turn, and he didn't want to come back to Romeo empty-handed. Not again. He stared out of the windows of the hotel, and tried to remember.

He didn't know how to remember.

It was Gemini who said, "Didn't we see flyers about the Monad Charity House? Did you keep them, pal?"

He did. He kept everything that he found. It felt like a hunger; a need to know what Krat was like before he'd awoken. To piece together the parts of the broken city. He'd brought them back, and smuggled them in the unused room he’d claimed for himself. It was his treasure trove of the past.

P found the papers. Found a poster for a performance, with scribbles on it. He looked at it again. 'R.'

Then there was the notice. That the house was shutting, because of the petrification disease. It had reached them.

P brought both papers to Romeo, that night. "No one could tell me anything useful."

Romeo sighed. He looked at the poster first. He almost smiled; it seemed like he was trying to remember how to.

"I do remember this," he said, shaking his head. His hair was spun gold in the candlelight. "They were desperate for Carlo to advertise the house with me – they said we made the perfect advertisement. He really didn’t want to do it. I don't think anyone's got a good picture of him."

Romeo had written that he looked like a donkey.

P didn't say anything. He watched Romeo; it was easier to watch Romeo than look at the boy on the flyer; the boy he was made to be. Who looked back up, and studied his face. Closely. They sat so close, on the chairs of the audience, that P could hear his red eye click in its socket.

"You really do look just like him," he said. "Apart from—"

He reached forward, and lifted a lock of P's hair.

"It happened when I found your necklace," he said.

Romeo dropped the hair. He frowned. "So you do remember. A part of you, at least." "I can’t control it," P replied. "I would if I could."

"Would you?" Romeo leant forward. He was still taller than him, and for once, that bothered P. It made him feel defensive; he shifted back in his seat. "Why? Because I told you to? Do you do whatever you’re told?” "I don't," P said. Argued. "I repaired you. I wasn’t told to do that."

"But you don't want to remember. You said that."

"I will,” P said, and hadn’t realised he’d felt that way, until he said it. He continued, “If it helps you."

"Why?"

P blinked. He didn't know how to describe it; this pull in his chest. "You're my friend."

Romeo stared at him. He looked disappointed. He stood, and turned away, nudging the chair out of his way. The light cast a halo in his hair. He looked like an angel, P thought; the kind of angel in the stained glass of the cathedral. An angel in an old school uniform.

"The petrification disease reached the charity house," P said, to Romeo's back.

"We don't know when I left. When – Carlo left." Romeo shook his head. "I refuse to believe Geppetto would leave him there. Even he wasn't that cruel."

But he was cruel enough to make Romeo the King of Puppets, it seemed. To send P to destroy him. He didn't say that. It wouldn't be fair. It would lead to more arguments, and he didn’t want to argue.

He sat, tentatively, whilst Romeo examined the papers he'd brought. His gaze seemed distant, and it was as though he had a great weight on his shoulders. P didn't say anything. There didn't seem much to say. Romeo didn't tell him to leave, either, and he didn’t want to. He kept watching him.

When he finally did need to leave – when they heard the clock chiming the hour, Romeo caught his wrist. "You don't have to do this. I can try and remember, myself."

"I want to remember," P said. "I want to know what happened."

Romeo blinked. His hazel eye examined him.

"I want to know who I was built to be." He wondered, if he was human, if his voice would crack. It didn't, this time. “Even if I’m not him.”

Romeo almost smiled, and it worked better this time. His eyes seemed warmer than before.

"Well," he said. "Good for you, puppet."

"P."

"P," Romeo echoed. He leant forward, again, and, lingered, smelling of smoke and oil. He kissed P’s cheek.

And he felt his Ergo spark.

*

P wasn’t sure how the thought came to him. He didn’t even know how he did it. Not exactly. It started with the hard crystals of Ergo he sometimes found. He’d always released them; they crushed easily enough in the fist of his legion hand. It gave him strength; it released Ergo; made him feel a rush of relief, as the blue light flowed away. When he had told Sophia, she had said it was a good thing.

“You’re helping,” she’d said. “You’re helping Krat.”

But then he’d started – listening, when he crushed it. The Ergo seemed to whisper to him, as it was released. For just a second, he could hear something, within it. If he closed his eyes, he could catch a glimpse. It started as a flash; a bedroom, with rich curtains and shining oak furniture; a different bedroom, a dormitory, with rows of iron bedframes and no fire.

The glimpses developed into something more. Turned into flashes of sound; of music, a line from a play, the sound of puppets talking. The sound of a voice, laughing. Romeo’s voice. He knew it was Romeo.

He tried more. Hungrily hunted for larger chunks of Ergo, so that he could stop still, and feel them smash in his palm. To get a glimpse of this other life. It felt like pressing himself against a mirror, just able to see someone else on the other side.

His life. Carlo’s life.

“Monad Charity House,” he told Romeo, the next time they were sat inside the opera house. Romeo rolled his good eye. The other clicked.

“We already knew that. I could have tome you that.”

“You’d have lessons,” P continued, undeterred. “Arithmetic, writing. Fencing. You were learning to be stalkers.”

“That’s also nothing new to me,” Romeo said. He leant against the stage, his elbows resting on it, as though he was bored.

“Fencing lessons would be out in the courtyard,” P said. “Even in the winter. Even when there was frost. The wooden sticks would sting your knuckles for a long time, if you accidentally got hit. They’d go crimson.”

Romeo looked at him properly, then. He stepped forward, his hand on the back of one of the ornate chairs. His shoulders were straight, and he stood tall. P thought he looked like a prince; he moved like a prince, and he was as handsome as one. Only  the red eye, which exposed his puppet wiring.

“That’s right,” Romeo said. Slowly.

“The arithmetic room was always dark. It smelt, of tallow candles. The teacher; he was old, and spat when he talked.”

This time, Romeo smiled. Just a little. Then, he turned away, letting his hair fall in front of his expression. “You’re remembering.”

“A little. I can’t piece everything together,” P said. He paused, behind his own chair. “Are you?”

“It’s coming together very slowly,” Romeo replied. “But nothing that I need to remember. I need to remember what happened to him. What happened to me.”

There was pain, creeping into his voice. It seemed to defy his puppet voice, and defy P’s workings too, because he felt something stir in his chest. A something that made him push his chair aside, and cross to Romeo’s. To reach for his hand. He grazed their fingers together. Romeo’s twitched, on the chair back.

He took it in his own. It felt awkward. He didn’t know how to be careful, or gentle.

“I’ll remember for you,” he said.

Romeo stiffened. He didn’t look up. “But you don’t want to.”

P shook his head. His hair twitched with the movement. “I said I would. For you.”

Romeo did pull his hand away, then, and sharply. There was a clink at the contact. He held it to his chest, as though he had been burnt. “Just because I was Carlo’s friend?”

Because he always helped the people who needed it. Because he just knew that he needed to help Romeo. P’s hand hovered over the wood of the chair. He didn’t know what to do with it, now. His fingers twitched, but he kept staring at Romeo. At the golden sweep of his hair, where it hovered just by his chin. It swept, like a comet, as he turned back to meet P’s eyes.

“Or is it because you don’t know who you are?”

“Who I am doesn’t matter,” P said, slowly. It was true. He was a weapon. A tool. Something Geppetto built to save Krat. Something he built to house Carlo's Ergo; to keep it safe. “I’m a puppet.”

Romeo pushed the chair aside. It toppled, and crashed, clattering on the wooden floor. P looked at it, because it was easier than meeting Romeo’s mismatched eyes. It was easier to stare at the abandoned chair, and the shattered tile beneath it. They had shattered that, during their fight. It didn’t matter; his cheeks were caught by Romeo’s hands. It was Romeo who tilted his face up, determinedly. His red eye gleamed; his hazel one soft. There were flecks of green and gold that caught the light.

“You’re not,” he said. “You’re not just a puppet.”

P didn’t move. Didn’t twitch a muscle. This was different, from when Geppetto touched him – from when Venigni touched him. It made his Ergo stir. It felt close to the surface. “You only think that because I have Carlo’s Ergo.”

“I don’t.” Romeo stepped closer. He was only an inch away from P, almost curving into him. If they were human, he’d probably feel the warmth from him. His blond hair fell forward, grazing P’s cheeks. “You forget that I’m a puppet too. I know how it feels. I know how they all feel. I was their king, remember? They’re not just puppets.”

P felt his springs whirring. He felt hot. Really warm. He couldn’t look away from Romeo. For a moment, he caught a flash, of the boy he’d once been. The real boy. How his hazel eyes had shone, especially in the candlelight. How he’d smiled at Carlo, when they stayed up late talking. The starlight would make his teeth flash; would make his eyes twinkle. His voice would be soft, and his words would come out in a rush, as though they were running out of time.

His hand moved. Very slowly. He felt every spring tick with the movement. Until his fingers; his legion arm; grazed Romeo’s cheek. He brushed the hair back, behind Romeo’s ear. He couldn’t feel it, not with that arm, but perhaps that was good. He was feeling too much already, and he didn’t have any words for what he was feeling.

“Lampwick,” he murmured. He knew that name.

Romeo breathed a sigh. He closed the distance between them. Their chests and hips bumped together, hard. One of his hands slipped round to the back of P’s neck, and he smiled, softly.

“That’s right.”

He held his breath. He thought Romeo was doing the same. He’d never been this close to anyone before. Had only ever had Romeo look at him so softly – as though he was more than a weapon.

Romeo kissed him, just once, once again. As though he could be human.

And P almost believed it wasn’t just because of Carlo.

*

It was kissing Romeo, that third time, that gave him the idea. If crushing Ergo by himself helped him to access the memories locked deep inside his own chest – then what would happen if they crushed it together?

So, he brought a large chunk of Ergo, one he’d found whilst fighting his way back to the hotel from the theatre. It glittered and shone, and he struggled to keep it hidden in his satchel as he smuggled it back.

Romeo raised his eyebrows, when P brought it out. The blue light shone on Romeo’s cheeks, catching in his dark eye.

“I’ve been – considering,” P said. They knelt on the floor of the stage, and he cradled the Ergo crystal in his palms, as though he was holding a baby bird. “And I do want to know. I want to know why my father built me. Why I look like…”

“Carlo,” Romeo finished.

“I want to know about who he was.” He paused. “Who you were.”

Because Romeo kept kissing P, and he hadn’t stopped him, yet. He didn’t mind. It felt – good. The touch. For someone to want him. Not because of weapons, or legion arms, or even to play the piano for them, but just because he was him.

Even if he was only interested in him because of Carlo.

Romeo nodded. He smiled, briefly. “Thank you.”

Then he put his hands over the Ergo chunk too. They held it, together. P closed his eyes. He felt Romeo took a deep breath, too.

They crushed the Ergo.

And they were in the front room. The front room of the Monad Charity House. It was summer. A hot, sweltering summer. P – Carlo – sat in a large armchair, near the window, and Romeo sat on the windowsill, half-hidden by the lacy curtain. The sun caught his hair, and turned it into a blazing halo. The lace made him look like a saint.

And yet, he looked tired. He pressed his temple against the glass, staring out at the street. It was deserted. White flags hung from the windows opposite them. There was no wind to flutter them.

“Your father’s coming,” Romeo said. His voice was low, and tired, but still surprised.

“I don’t care,” Carlo scoffed.

Romeo didn’t move. He watched a fat fly, as it bumped against the glass, again and again, desperate to escape. A record played, quietly, in the corner, crackling more than it made any music, and there was a smell. A damp, dank smell.

“He’ll take you away from here,” Romeo said.

“It’s too late for that,” Carlo replied. “If he wanted to keep me safe, he would have come sooner.”

Romeo didn’t reply.

Carlo didn’t move to look through the window. He stayed sat. Coughs came from upstairs. The sound of wailing.

“And I’m not leaving you,” Carlo said.

“You have to.” Romeo looked at him, then.

“Well, I’m not.”

There was a knock at the front door. A brisk, business-like knock. Neither boy moved. They sat, listening; to the sound of footsteps on the stairs; the door opening. The sound of Geppetto’s voice as he gave his orders, and – Carlo knew – pushed past matron despite her protests. Listened to the sound of his cane in the hall; for effect over really needing it. He opened the door to the front room.

“Carlo!”

Carlo’s gaze felt lazy. He looked over, baking in his uniform, sweat trickling down his shirt collar.

“Thank the Lord – you’re alright.” Geppetto crossed to him. His scarf was pulled up, over his mouth and nose.

Carlo didn’t twitch. “Why are you here?”

“I heard the petrification disease had spread. I’m taking you away from here, out of the city, where it’s safe.”

Carlo shook his head, slowly. Determinedly.

“You should go,” Romeo said, softly. He still hadn’t twitched. That was different, Carlo remembered. Romeo always had impeccable manners. He always stood to greet adult visitors; always smiled and shook their hand.

“No,” Carlo said. “You can’t disappear for months and then suddenly decide you want to play saviour.”

“I’ve been very busy,” Geppetto replied. Reasonable, but defensive. “My work – we’ve been very busy. I got here as soon as I could.”

“Well, you’re too late.” Carlo stood. Heavily, using the arms of the chair for leverage. His body felt heavy; as heavy as lead. “The disease is here. In the house.”

That’s what the coughing upstairs was. The crying. The discovery of dry skin becoming scales; of lungs turning to stone. He watched the fear on his father’s face, as he realised the truth of it. The look of horror and panic. He stepped forward, and Carlo didn’t move, when he took hold of his wrist. He let his father pull up his sleeves, let him look at his face and neck.

There were no scales. No sign of the petrification disease.

“There’s no time to delay,” Geppetto continued. He tugged Carlo’s wrist.

He dug his heels into the carpet. He was still stronger than Geppetto. For now, at least. He shook his head.

“Not without Lampwick.”

“Lampwick,” Geppetto repeated, with a hint of annoyance. He looked to the boy at the window. “Fine. Very well.”

“No,” Romeo said. “Thank you, sir, but I can’t come with you.”

There was a silence – a silence that was horrifying to Carlo. His stomach lurched, and he tugged his hand free from his father’s grip.

“Don’t,” he said. Don’t show him, he thought. It would ruin everything.

Romeo didn’t listen – of course he didn’t. He did turn. And when he did, it was obvious. The skin at his temple had hardened. It mottled over his brow like dragon scales, the eye underneath milky white.

Romeo had the petrification disease. It was advanced. There was no hope.

Carlo looked at him. His Lampwick; his Romeo; dying.

“I won’t go,” he said. His voice was a soft, cracked thing.

“You have to,” Romeo replied.

*

And then P awoke. It felt like that. It was just like waking up, although he never slept as a puppet. He became aware again, of the wooden floor underneath him, of the crackle of the gas-lamps, the cool of the air. It was not summer. Not anymore.

He opened his eyes.

Romeo stared back at him.

They didn’t speak. The fragments of Ergo still swirled cobalt around them, disappearing into the air. There seemed little need to discuss what they had seen. They had both caught the petrification disease, whilst they were still at the Charity House. Romeo had it worse, it seemed. He’d had the scales. Carlo had not.

There were still a lot of questions. But that was a start.

Romeo traced the tips of his fingers over P’s palms. “We worked there, for a while, after we graduated. You don’t walk into Stalker work easily. Becoming a bastard, sure, but not a stalker.”

P nodded. He watched their hands. “Why did he arrive too late?”

Romeo shook his head. He smiled, sadly. He continued tracing circles on P’s palms, rhythmically. “He always did. Geppetto was a busy man, and his choice was always his work over his son.”

P watched Romeo’s expression. “But he loved Carlo.”

Romeo’s smile widened, a little further. “He loved the idea of a son.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I know. I don’t, either.”

Romeo stopped, then. His fingers paused, in their exploration of P’s hands. He looked up, his crimson eye piercing.

"Can you feel anything? I can’t feel."

"A little,” P admitted. It was true. “Not at first, but – the more I lie…the more I feel.”

Romeo tilted his head to one side. “Have you lied to me?”

P should have. He lied to everyone else. But, no, he realised, not to Romeo. And the way he asked it; as though it would’ve been bad to; made him rethink everything. He twisted their fingers together, marvelling in the way their fingers fitted together. Like a machine.

“I was told lying is the way to humanity,” P said.

“Perhaps.” Romeo squeezed their fingers together. “I can see how you would think that. Puppets can’t lie. But being truthful – being able to have trust that someone will tell you the truth – that’s human too. It’s – complicated.”

He sighed. He looked beautiful, P thought. A human, from one side, and a puppet from the other.

“Being human is complicated,” P said.

Maybe one day, Romeo would be. Again. Maybe whatever was happening to P could happen to him too. Perhaps they would both become human. Once more.

He didn’t know if he wanted that.

If they did, then would P become Carlo? Would he lose all sense of himself? Or would he lose Carlo forever? If that happened, then would Romeo want to stay with him? He cared about that. He didn’t want to lose Romeo, not now. Not when he was the only one who understood him.

Not when he looked at P, as though he was more than just a puppet.

[paranoiaarctic]

YOOO, since Lies of P announced that the game is officially complete and ready for release, I wanted to share some of my favorite little details and theories from the demo. (Note, if you have not played the demo, I will try to keep this as spoiler free as possible, but proceed with caution.)

-After you get downed by an enemy (Particularly a fable attack), P will struggle to get up, which is great for making the game more realistic but terrible if you're trying to roll away as fast as possible.

-In the library-like area next to the piano, Gemini will comment on how someone really liked the tale of Pinocchio and that he can't quite remember their name (Interesting)

-Adding onto the above detail, The infected lady (I can't remember her name) will also comment once P changes into the boarding school clothing that he looks like someone that she also knew.

-I don't know who's idea it was to create the scrapped watch guard (Or the Parade Master), but that s##t isn't safe for kids. Whoever thought these 2 should be mascots needs to recheck their life decisions. (You can find their lore when picking up the news articles around the city)

-P's reaction after murdering the Mad Donkey and then watching Geppetto step out of the car like nothing happened accurately describes how I reacted too

-P twitching every 5 seconds when standing compared to the other characters that we've met thus far, which is such a small but lovable detail

-Geppetto talking about how much he loves his son and then sending him into a doll factory to look for a missing friend is such an oxymoron, which makes me think that as we become more capable of making decisions throughout the game, one of the endings may be us killing Geppetto. I know that's extreme, but it's not out of the realm of possibility. (This man is sus)

-I hope P has more snarky dialogue options as the game progresses based on the dialogue options given when you present the doll to the lady in the window-well.

That's all I have for you :3 You bet your arses I'm getting this game when it comes out!

[biganimal92]

geppetto is so unserious he fucking sits there and says "always remember you're precious to me, even when i ask you to do something dangerous" and then immediately tells you just how dangerous and life-threatening the next location he wants you to go to is while giving you a pretty flimsy reason as to why he wants you to go there. then he tells you about your Pee Organ

[gemscales-and-tea]

"You can't do it again if you can't move."

That was the reason for getting rid of Romeo's legs... and his arms would follow if needed. The puppet scowls to himself as he walks, stewing in anger that is fresh and bubbling. It would keep him motivated to get things taken care of, to remove the so called Creator.

Eliminate him? Something in him feels wrong at that.

On some level... he had seen the man as a father, to a degree. But all of this? This was too much. This was wrong on far too many levels. The goal would be to keep Geppetto from learning that he has the King of Puppets and is bringing him back.

Gemini chirrups from his hip.

"Heyyyy! I get it! You're going to take him to Venigni, aren't you! If anyone can be trusted to make another body and not slip the Covenant in, it's him!"

That was true, Venigni DID still owe him for saving both his life and his butler. The man had said so.

But it's Romeo's question on what he gains that gets a jerk from the puppet, his head tilting back to look up at the King.

His eyes are brown again.

"Don't be stupid, Romeo. ... I get my best friend back."

Carlo had forced his way through one more time, despite how much energy it costed him to do so. What kind of dumb question even was that? What did he gain? He gained his friend... and he granted the older true freedom; a body no longer bound by the Covenant. And in the next second, Pinocchio is back in control and walking, soon reaching the nearest Stargazer.

"And no... I'm not going to 'eliminate' him. I don't know if I can bring myself to."

With that, he shifts his 'guest' to one hand and holds the other out to the Stargazer.

Time to go back.

Romeo's head twitched, as if the fellow puppet's words couldn't be comprehended. There was no doubt that Geppetto had a hand in this. Yet, this choice, this expression of free will- This was unlike anything the King had seen. A puppet... not bound by the Grand Covenant? Completely? While there were puppets with Awakened Egos, but then there was also...

He couldn't even get that out of his own thoughts. It was a showcase of dominance of the Creator himself. No matter how much control Romeo thought he had, it wasn't complete. It was never meant to be. He was reborn a puppet, and he was going to perish like one as well. No way would he die as a human, as Romeo passed off that chance once. (And that proved to be the biggest mistake of his life.)

"B̷u̷t̷ w̷h̷a̷t̷ i̷f̷ I̷ t̷r̷y̷ t̷o̷ d̷o̷ i̷t̷ a̷g̷a̷i̷n̷?̷ W̷h̷a̷t̷ d̷o̷ y̷o̷u̷ h̷a̷v̷e̷ t̷o̷ g̷a̷i̷n̷ f̷r̷o̷m̷ t̷h̷i̷s̷?̷" There was a high chance of Romeo acting upon orders again. So badly did he want the puppet and Carlo to get it- to understand why the puppets acted the way they did.

Is he... Is he going to face him? Common sense-wise, this sounded like a good thing. But as someone who was subservient to the Creator, Romeo could only "feel" along the lines of panic and distress. Somehow, the well-being of the puppet-master was of utmost concern for the King of Puppets as well.

"Y̷o̷u̷'̷r̷e̷ n̷o̷t̷ g̷o̷i̷n̷g̷ t̷o̷.̷.̷.̷ e̷l̷i̷m̷i̷n̷a̷t̷e̷ h̷i̷m̷,̷ r̷i̷g̷h̷t̷?̷ C̷a̷r̷l̷o̷,̷ d̷o̷n̷'̷t̷ l̷e̷t̷ h̷i̷m̷ d̷o̷ t̷h̷i̷s̷.̷"

[deepwhisperchaos]

No one asked, but as a crazy fanfiction-nerd and romantic at heart I couldn't miss an opportunity to write some fluff relationships headcanons with male adults of the film, including two sweethearts and one asshole. Frankly speaking, I've never written hcs before, so I hope that in spite of possible mistakes and a bit of ooc it turns out to be fine.

Sebastian J. Cricket

Sebastian notices how charming and friendly you are and tries to make the best impression on you, behaving like the most sophisticated and educated bug in the world (he definitely is).

His manners are impeccable and various scientific facts and philosophical theories he tells you are no doubt interesting. But all of this can't be compared to the very first moment he has made you laugh like a child. It's time when both of you realize, that it's just the beginning of your story.

Each day spent together you enjoy the warm mutual feeling of both peace and euphoria and your bond is getting stronger and stronger. Soon you move in with him, which makes you and Sebastian (and Pinocchio by the way, who already considers you a member of his family) even happier.

Your pastime usually includes tea-parties, poetry, singing, chess, as you share his fascination of literature and music. He even plays the violin in order to help you fall asleep and have the sweetest dreams.

Sebastian is a clingy little guy. He uses his four arms for big hugs and tickles you with his moustache and antennas to hear you laugh. However, such method can easily be used against him and in this case you'll never see a cricket faster than him, as he runs away from your tickling with the speed of a lightning.

The cricket tells you a lot about his adventures in faraway lands. You're amazed by the stories of mountains of Peru, voodoo magic of New Orlean, colour festivals of India and temples of Tokyo and Sebastian dreams about taking you with him next time.

In spite of how many books he has read, sometimes he may have troubles finding the right words to express everything he feels about you. But the way he writes his memoirs, saying that he's very grateful for having you in his life, is one of the most conclusive proofs of his affection.

Geppetto

The woodcarver had no idea, that he would find love again so many years after he had lost his wife. Nevertheless, he has no right and honestly no desire to grumble when he gets to know you.

You're kind and patient and such features are appreciated by someone like Geppetto. The way you treat him with all care and gentleness simply melts his old heart. By the way, you love watching him work, observing how pieces of wood turn into something delicate in his hands. This pushes him to give you some carving lessons. At first, it goes slowly and you may feel a bit clumsy, but his encouragement and your efforts lead to one of the most memorable pastimes ever.

When it comes to wooing, Geppetto is adorable. He carves small cute things for you, like a little ring with a bright pattern or a jewelry box. He also brings you wildlife flowers as often as possible and makes delicious meals (the best stews, soups and pies) before you show up. Moreover, it's not obvious at the first sight, but the old man is shy as if he is a 17-year-old boy on a date. He may even blush a little, when you give him a hug or a kiss on the cheek.

You take long strolls around town and its neighbourhood, chatting about everything that can come to mind. Geppetto is not only a great storyteller but also a good listener, who is always very attentive to every single detail you mention. However, it's likewise relevant, that you feel absolutely comfortable when you don't talk. The moments of sitting on a hill in complete silence and watching the sky or standing at Carlo's grave, leaning on each other and holding hands are cherished the most.

Due to some age difference Geppetto may be a bit grumpy and act parentally at times. However, the relationships with his sons have taught him that the happiness of his loved ones has to be in the first place and your own opinion and choices are highly respected by him.

Geppetto is very touched, seeing how easily you get on with Pinocchio with all his endless energy and curiosity (little boy is eager to know, for example, when you and his papa are going to get married). You're very pleased to spend time around Pinocchio, treating him like your own child, which convinces Gepetto once again that he has made the right choice.

Count Volpe

Volpe isn't used to having a regular partner, one-night stands are quite sufficient for him. But your case is some kind of exception. He is enamoured by your beauty and wit and initially tries everything to make you a part of his lovers' "collection". He hardly knew, that the whole process would be much more fascinating than the result.

Volpe amuses himself like a king and he doesn't mind sharing the delights of his life with you. Whenever he shows up in public, you're always by his side. As a man of culture he often takes you to the opera house and theatre to enjoy not only arts, but also the intimate atmosphere, when he sits in a box next to you. He ends the day with going to the most exclusive restaurant and taking you on a night ride in his silver-blue Bugatti.

With you Volpe is very courteous and ready to fulfil all your wishes. He sends you numerous bunches of roses, camellias, irises and peonies, spoils you with gifts like boutique clothes, books, perfume and all kinds of delicatessen.

As time passes, Volpe realizes that he actually likes you. It doesn't mean that he will give up flirting with other boys and girls. He just genuinely enjoys your company and doesn't become less interested in you, when he gets what he has wished for.

He uses words more often, than deeds to show that you're dear to him. For example, he comes up with a lot of pet names: sunshine, mon trésor, mon bonbon, chaton, honey...

Volpe is very tactile and touch-starved, he express his affection both in private and public: a little pat on a shoulder, a slight thigh stroke, a kiss on the ear. Dancing is another way to stay closer to you, whether it's a passionate tango or a slow-dance to soft songs on the records. By the way, you're the only one, who is allowed to play with his hair, even when he's asleep.

When he loses almost all of his fortune, you have to cope with his fits of anger and despair that end up with arguments. Anyways, you support him, trying to find a solution. Volpe refuses to take you with him in carnival tours, explaining that he will find you when the things get better. The letters you send frequently is the only way to maintain contact. He rereads every single one, keeping them in a special box which even Spazzatura isn't able to find.

[naivesilver]

GOOD EVENING!!!!

👀😊😊 perhaps 'are you still mad at me' or ' will you please tell me what happened?' for something court related? (Maybe Lampwick or pinocchio, of you're after something more specific?)

HELLO GOOD EVENING AND THANK YOU this is an excellent way to start this ask spree, considering that I can check at least ONE plot bunny off my mental list - we were talking about AUs of AUs, weren't we? 😏

Angsty Question Prompts

"Will you please tell me what happened?"

It is an average, unremarkable day in her house, which is why Leona is hardly surprised when her eldest child bursts in, holding his brother by the hand and yelling "Mama, Pinocchio fell!"

Leona sighs and sets down her needlework, turning to face the boys. It's a rather urgent order, the one she's supposed to be finishing, but of course she'd never be able to focus on her sewing with a sniveling child in the room. "Come here, honey, let me see."

Pinocchio complies haltingly, crawling in her arms and onto her lap as he rubs at his eyes. It took her falling in love and becoming a mother to realize that two boys of seven and six-going-on-seven respectively could be this different - Pierrot would be howling and clamoring for attention in this situation, but Pinocchio is quiet and subdued, crying silently and curling against her chest like a sullen little hedgehog.

At least he doesn't appear to be too injured: he has scrapes on the palms of his hands and on his knees, yes, but it's nothing that Leona doesn't already see about twice a week - she wets the corner of a rag and cleans it all nevertheless, albeit turning to Pierrot for questions. "Will you please tell me what happened, dear? Where did he fall from?"

She gets no response; instead, the boys share a quick glance, silent and not at all subtle. Of course. They might not be brothers by blood, this loud urchin she picked off the streets and the son of the man she is to marry, but they're thick as thieves all the same - chances are they were doing something she disapproves of, though nothing too dangerous, knowing them. It's almost a pity Geppetto is off delivering a table he's done fixing, otherwise he'd probably find their blatantly guilty looks very amusing. 

"He just stumbled," Pierrot finally says, sounding almost dubious. "He didn't fall from very high up."

"Well, that's a relief." If it's true at all, that is. She presses a kiss to Pinocchio's forehead and lets him slide off her lap, though the boy remains stubbornly pressed against her side, and pats the workbench at her other flank with a small, inviting smile. 

"Maybe it's better if you take a little rest, mh? I need to finish this dress for Goodwife Thompson, but you can stay here and keep me company. No more tumbling around, you understand?"

"Yes, Mama," Pierrot replies, because he is an obedient boy deep down, and climbs up to sit next to her with considerable cheer, leaning forward to rest his chin on her sewing table. "I want to put the thread in the needle, though. It's fun."

"I wanna do it," Pinocchio mumbles out of the blue, catching them both off guard. "You're too rough, you always miss the eye of the needle."

"Do not! Shut up!"

"Do too."

Leona sighs, heavy with fond weariness. "You can both take turns doing it, alright? You know how much thread I go through with every commission."

It is a challenge, to work on anything with two boys hovering over her and bickering over nothing of use, but she wouldn't have it any other way, truth be told. She'd rather they pester her every day for the rest of her life than living through the alternative - this way, at least, she knows they aren't afraid to come to her for comfort, aware that she'll kiss their scrapes better rather than scolding them for customary children's roughhousing. This way she feels love, and loved in turn, by these silly, precious boys she's raising by choice. 

She just hopes she'll manage to prevent them from stabbing themselves with a needle before Geppetto comes home, is all. 

[mindmeltonabun-blog]

Doom At Your Service: Analysis & Theories for EPs 9-10

Anyone mentally exhausted from watching DAYS? Well, you’ve come to the right place where I do the thinking for you, so you don’t have to! As always, if you have any questions, feel free to click on the ask question button! Happy Readings !

The Contract Revisited

While reviewing the contract, I realized there was something major that I had completely missed! Anyways let’s go over the contract again to clear up some confusion.

The Contract is as follows:

1) Dong Kyung must ask for Myul Mang to destroy the world before she dies (It could be rephrased as Dong Kyung must ask for Myul Mang to destroy the world before her tentative expiration date)

2) During Dong Kyung’s last 100 days, Myul Mang will prevent her from feeling any pain

3) Myul Mang has to grant her one real wish

4) If Dong Kyung breaks the contract (does not wish for the world to be destroyed) then the person she loves the most will die

If Dong Kyung does not violate the contract as in she wishes for the world to be destroyed, the person she loves dies anyways because you know.... the world is non existent. If Dong Kyung does violate the contract, meaning she does not wish for the world to be destroyed, the person she loves dies too because her doom is transferred to them. Some have also wondered whether she can has to ask for the world to be destroyed in order to get her one real wish to be granted. In my opinion, I don't think so. I think she can still get her one real wish to be granted regardless of whether she wishes for doom upon the world or not. Other things to note is that nothing will happen to Myul Mang if he does not stick to the terms of the contract (i.e keeps Dong Kyung pain free and granting her one real wish) because as Dong Kyung said "If I violate" not "If either you or I violate".

Now something to pay close attention to is #4. In Ep 2, Myul Mang had said he would take Dong Kyung’s doom (brain cancer) and transfer it to someone she loves. This is the part I missed! I’d thought that all Myul Mang was doing was transferring the death that was meant for her, not that he was actually removing her source of death which was her brain cancer. Therefore, if Dong Kyung breaks the contract, she will live because her brain cancer is removed and is subsequently transferred into the person she loves, causing them to die instead. I feel incredibly stupid for missing this important piece of info. In light of this new info, I will therefore retract my previous theory that Dong Kyung’s one wish will be to cure her brain cancer.

For those who were confused by that scene of Dong Kyung going to the beach and staying away from everyone, here are my thoughts on that. Dong Kyung was trying to find a loophole. The loophole was that she was planning on violating the contract while protecting the people she loves. This means that Dong Kyung was planning on ending herself at the beach (you can't wish for doom upon the world if you're already dead) and accepting her doom (her doom can't be transferred to anyone else because she accepts it in herself).

Who’s Going to Get Dong Kyung’s Brain Cancer and Die?

I recently had a eureka moment a few days ago before Eps 9-10 aired that led me to formulating a new theory -- it's actually Dora who will inherit Dong Kyung’s brain cancer and die. Let’s think through some things first, “the person you love the most will die”. The most obvious choice is Myul Mang. However, if you think about that statement in a more abstract way, you can see that if Dong Kyung loves her life, then the person who will die is Dora. Remember that Dora is basically the personification of life.

To further add evidence that supports this theory, I present to you Exhibit A, Dora’s massive nosebleed. We know Dong Kyung has a rare type of brain cancer and it’s located in her frontal lobe. As days pass, the brain tumor is growing or metastasizing. In theory, the tumor could grow into nearby areas such as her nasal cavity and cause Dong Kyung to have nose bleeds (FYI: In real life, I’m a scientist with experience in the field of oncology and most of the time brain tumors don’t grow outside of the brain. It can happen, but it is very rare!). Now, think about the events that occurred before Dora's nose bleed. For example, Dong Kyung was out and about enjoying her time with Myul Mang and her family and friends. Essentially, Dong Kyung was beginning to love her life. This causes Dora to suffer because she is taking in Dong Kyung's illness into herself. Subsequently, this leads to Dora experiencing some of the symptoms of Dong Kyung's brain cancer (e.g nose bleed). Thus, as Dong Kyung is beginning to live, Dora is beginning to die.

Exhibit B: Adventures of Pinocchio. At the end of the story, the Fairy (Dora) heals an ailing Geppetto (Dong Kyung) as a reward for Pinocchio (Myul Mang) becoming a good boy. Following this, we don’t hear much about what happens to the Fairy except that she’s in laying in a hospital on the verge of death. It is implied that in order to heal Geppetto, the Fairy had to take his illness into herself. Afterall, nothing is without consequences, someone must pay so that others can be happy. Much like the story of Pinocchio, Dora is doing the same thing as the Fairy. Dora is taking in Dong Kyung’s illness so that Dong Kyung can freely love her son, Myul Mang, without consequences (e.g Myul Mang dying).

Exhibit C: Dong Kyung walking around like she didn’t have brain cancer while in seclusion. You would think that since she didn’t see Myul Mang to recharge, she would be experiencing some severe symptoms, but nope she was walking around as if she was cured! I wonder where her cancer went.......DORA!

Exhibit D: Dora telling Dong Kyung to be madly in love and live. Basically Dora saying, "Love my son and live, don't worry about your brain cancer or him dying because I'm taking care of it."

Why Dora Didn't Want Myul Mang To See Her

For those wondering why Dora didn’t want Myul Mang to see her, here are my two cents. One explanation is that Dora probably didn’t want him to figure out that she was inheriting Dong Kyung’s brain cancer. It would’ve made him feel guilty to see that his mother was willing to take on even more pain just so he could be happy. Another explanation is that Myul Mang still has a lot of growing up to do (to become human). Dora didn’t want him to get the idea that he’s out of the clear just yet. Meaning if Myul Mang had found out that Dora was doing this for him then he would’ve thought life was a breeze now and have no further motivations to want to grow, thus ruining Dora’s plan for him (to grow up to become a good human). There’s no better motivation to make someone grow than the thought of their love ones dying.

Final Theory on Dong Kyung’s Wish

In my previous post, I had discussed that without knowing the limits of what one could or could not wish for, it was difficult for me to accurately predict what Dong Kyung’s wish would be. However, in this week’s episode, I was finally given the limits: the wish must be a wish that is doom in nature. I thought to myself, what could be a good thing to end? Oh, that’s right, Myul Mang’s immorality. Dong Kyung must say “I wish for your immortal life to end” or something along those lines. The combination of Dong Kyung’s wish + Myul Mang’s willingness to sacrifice himself for her + Dora’s plant = the rebirth of Myul Mang into a real boy....oops I mean real hu-man.

The Ending of DAYS

So, what kind of ending will DAYS have? Prepare yourselves. I think it’s going to be a bittersweet ending because it goes with the one of the main themes DAYS which is dualism. I think Myul Mang will be reborn as a human, but still have his doom responsibilities (so more like a fake human). He will probably end up becoming like Dora in the sense that he gets to experience the cycle of life and death over an infinite amount of time. Dong Kyung won’t be reborn in his next life cycle (remember Myul Mang tells that crazy lady there’s no afterlife; humans only have this one life). I guess the notion that the love he and Dong Kyung share will always be with him and forever serve as a shining beacon even in his loneliest days is sweet, but still I want a happy ending!!!

Now excuse my language, but to hell with dualism and what is logical! I want a happy ending where Myul Mang becomes human, lives with Dong Kyung, and when he dies that’s it. No coming back to doing his doom job in a different life. Dora can create another herald of doom. Dora did it once before and she could do it again lol. Or if Myul Mang must come back in a different life, at least allow Dong Kyung to be reborn at the same time. I mean you can grow the same plant again…. EVER HEARD OF PROPROGATION DORA?!! Metaphorically speaking, if Dong Kyung is a sunflower, then wait until she dies, harvest her seeds and grow her again…. it’s that simple Dora!!!

Some Thoughts on the Writer of DAYS

The writer (Im Meari) of DAYS is at best, pretentious and at worst, derivative. She’s more or less just rehashing the works of other great philosophers (Nietzsche, Schopenhauer, Deleuze, etc). She presents DAYS as a collection of major philosophical concepts with the intention to differentiate herself from that of other kdramas writers. She goes onto placing great stress on the idea that in order to innovate or bring about a new beginning, one must deviate from the norm, yet she herself does not diverge from the ideas of other philosophers. She does not present any philosophy of her own. In this aspect, she is a hypocrite to the very ideas she tries to preach. Oh well, to each their own. Who knows, maybe my opinion of Im Meari will change by the end of the series. Anyways, I’m still here for the romance between the actors and actresses and solving mysteries!

Ep 11 Preview Predictions

Here are my predictions for Ep 11 based off of the preview, they may or may not be correct !

Dong Kyung takes back the bracelet from Myul Mang after their conversation on the beach. Honestly, I’m growing tired of this whole giving/taking the bracelet type situation lol.

Dong Kyung enjoys a nice vacation with Myul Mang on Jeju island.

Dong Kyung returns from the vacation because she finds out that her aunt is sick (probably from worrying about Dong Kyung). Dong Kyung beats herself up about it.

Dong Kyung is sick again (probably from hating life...remember that I had theorized that the more Dong Kyung loves her life, the sicker Dora will be become) and Myul Mang in his desperation pleads with Dora to help him, but Dora’s version of helping him is to …. surprise surprise… teach him another lesson. The lesson is that the grass isn’t always greener on the other side and that Myul Mang and Dong Kyung complete each other for the better. Dora shows Myul Mang what their lives would've been like if they had never existed in each other’s lives.

Dong Kyung having never experience any kind of suffering would live a healthy life but become the most unappreciative and spoiled person ever. She may go on to finding that life was pretty meaningless and would want to put an end to it all. And Myul Mang having never met Dong Kyung wouldn't have any motivation or desire to grow as a person and so he would remain stagnant. And who knows… maybe at some point, that Myul would’ve became so angry with humans that he would personally go around killing every last one of them.