#so my brain has no distinction between doing something TO someone or FOR someone
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alright note to self if I ever get a chance to go back in time and re-learn all my languages I should learn the language with the most cases first 💯
#having to distinguish between accusative and dative in german is killing me#bc i learned it in spanish first#which sort of lost its cases#so my brain has no distinction between doing something TO someone or FOR someone#bc theyre the same to me (grammatically)
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Too Sweet
A/N: Hi friends. I haven't written anything in a while, as I've been tussling with my mental health and raging SAD from the weather near me. Please accept this Mandalorian drabble? Rambling? Takes place between the end of season two and Din's appearance in the Book of Boba Fett. Tags: The Mandalorian, Mandalorian x Reader, Din Djarin x Reader, Mandalorian x F!Reader, Apostate!Din WARNINGS: None Summary: You've been a safe place for Din Djarin for years. He comes to you at his most vulnerable, but always has to leave before you're ready. Title inspired by the Hozier song of the same name.
Word count: 1.6k+
Hours later, you’re still in shock.
Din Djarin is in bed next to you, sans helmet.
It wasn’t unusual for him to be in your home- hell, it would be more unusual for him not to be there between jobs. Your Mandalorian had spent years visiting, hovering somewhere in between a lover and a partner. He shows up in the afternoon one day, and is gone early in the morning before you wake. When he returns, beaten and bruised, you chastise him for leaving without saying goodbye. The routine was comfortable. Familiar.
Except every other time he had been there, you had never seen his face.
It feels like a dance each time he comes. You tend to his wounds quickly but gently, lathering cuts and bruises in bacta before wrapping bandages or slings where necessary to let the medication heal. Once you’ve played nurse, Din secludes himself to your study to eat dinner. And each time, without fail, he leads you to the bedroom to extinguish the fireplace and blow out your candles. His hands find your body, and he ravishes you in the darkness.
Key word being darkness.
Today was the same song and dance. He’d limped into your cabin without greeting, shaking snow from his armored body and settling himself into a kitchen chair while you fussed. A tube of bacta and half a roll of bandages later, he silently trudged away to eat in the study. There was a distinct lack of little green child with him today, which was a major concern after the past year. You suspected it had something to do with the oppressive sense of sorrow following him through the house. So you carried on with your usual routine, asking little to no questions. It wasn’t until he’d crowded you up against the sink, bowl still in your grip as you rinsed it, that he spoke.
“Mesh’la.”
Strong arms wrapped themselves around your waist, and you leaned back into an unarmored chest. In hindsight, you chastised yourself for not noticing the words lacked the electrical buzz of a vocoder.
“Din.” You returned.
He only grunts, right hand gliding up your side. It grips your shoulder, and presses until you turn to face him, bowl still gripped in your damp fingers.
“You know, words are- Din!”
The porcelain bowl shattered as it collided with the kitchen floor. You’d dropped it out of pure instinct, hands flying up to cover your eyes. As much as you’d tried to forget what you saw, it was burned into your brain. Wavy hair, long nose with a scar crossing the bridge of it. Big, brown eyes that couldn’t possibly belong to someone so stern and ruthless. It flashes across your mind, and you almost tear up at the thought of Din breaking his Creed after all these years.
But he’d pulled your hands away and explained - while your eyes are still pinched closed- that he was an apostate. The Child was returned to his own people, but at the cost of Din’s Creed. It had taken minutes of coaxing and reassurance, but you’d opened your eyes and cursed the universe for being so cruel as to hide such a face. From the set of his brow to the nervous biting of his lip, you basked in seeing so much bare skin. It took less time for him to attach his lips to yours and lead you out of the kitchen.
He’d taken you to bed, and now here you sit.
Your room isn’t anything special. Quaint and cozy if nothing else, with two small windows that face out over the mountain’s edge. A fireplace flickers opposite the bed, its warmth trickling out to the sheets and heating your toes. Two bookshelves border either side of your headboard, with a nightstand tucked on Din’s side of the bed. On it, the usually extinguished candles burn bright.
The firelight flickers against Din’s tan skin, highlighting each bead of sweat and curled tendril of hair where it sticks to his forehead. He’s naked, back propped against the headboard and covered in a maroon sheet from the waist down. You’ve donned a short silk robe, black and bordered with lace where it plunges between your breasts. You lay between his legs above the sheets, head on his chest. One of his large hands caresses your scalp and trails to the ends of your hair. The other hand is occupied by a half-full glass of old Corellian whiskey.
You trace a line of yellow bruises on his hip where they extend below the sheet on his lap.
“What happened to you?”
His chest rumbles. “I fought an Imperial Moff. And Imperial battle droids.”
Your eyes widen, and you sit up. Din’s hand leaves your hair to grasp at your waist, pulling you to face him.
“Stars, Din.” You reach out to touch a patch of black and blue skin over his collarbone. “No wonder you’re so beat up. I’ll get you some more bacta before we go to sleep.”
He lifts your fingers from his collarbone to his mouth, kissing each fingertip. “You’re too good to me, cyar’ika.”
“You deserve it.” Is your instant reply.
If there was anything you knew about Din, it was that he never quite comprehended the good he brought to the world.
The Mandalorian brings the whiskey to his lips and takes a swig. You opt to push an errant curl behind his ear.
“I’m not a good man,” Your name falls off his tongue like honey. “Spent my whole life as kyramud.”
You tilt your head at the Mando’a. He’d called you some pet names for years- mesh’la, cyar’ika. But this… kyramud was new. Without his helmet, hearing anything out of his mouth was like a drug. But Mando’a warmed you to the core, building off Din’s comfort and fondness when he spoke the ancient tongue. You yearned to know more.
“Teach me Mando’a.” You kiss him gently, tasting the whiskey where it lingers on his lips. “So I can tell you why you deserve every bit of kindness.”
Din adjusts your legs so you’re sitting square between his, rear end on the bed and calves straddling his waist. He props you up with the ridiculous amount of pillows lying around.
“I’ll teach you anything you want.” Din strokes your knee. “Where do I start?”
You chew on your bottom lip. “What am I to you?”
“Ner cyare.” He pauses, debating. The whiskey makes another appearance, and you’re distracted by his Adam's apple bobbing deliciously in the column of his throat. “Naysol uj par ni. Each day I see you is aay’han.”
“What does that mean?”
Din tilts your chin up. “My beloved. Too sweet for me.”
You blush. “What about the end? Ay-hen?”
“Aay’han. Mourning and joy. At the same time.” He finishes the whiskey. “I mourn when I leave you here.”
Much to your annoyance, tears prick your eyes at the reminder that when you closed them, he would be gone before you woke. “Don’t remind me. Please.”
Din leans forward to capture your lips with his. The sensation only serves to make the stinging behind your eyes worse, and a single tear drips down your cheek. He’s quick to kiss it away, large hand curling into your hair. You climb all the way into his lap, suddenly desperate for closeness. His skin is hot and damp, and you’ve never felt anything better.
“Ni ceta. I never meant to hurt you.”
You sniffle against his neck. “Just promise me you’ll say goodbye from now on.”
He wets two fingers with his tongue and extinguishes the candles before cradling you in strong arms. Two words are murmured into your hair, quiet but sound.
“I promise.”
You grip him tighter than ever, warmth sadly fading as the dread of morning envelopes you.
*
The reflection of daylight off snow-covered ground wakes you.
It bounces in your windows, bathing the room in cool white light. You blink slowly, a heaviness settled on all of your limbs. It’s a familiar soreness that aches from your shoulders to between your legs, dredging up memories of the night before. Din’s bare face, and all the sweet words in Mando’a that he tried to teach you before you remembered he can never stay as long as you’d like. You sigh, letting one of your arms dangle off the edge of the bed. The thought of turning over and seeing the candles, thinking about him blowing them out on each visit was too fresh. It’s easier to lay and stew in your sadness, watching fluffy flakes of snow fall. The clock on your wall reads ‘1457’, another unintentional reminder of your late-night escapades.
You hate to admit that the feeling makes you tear up again. So you lay in bed, curled beneath a thick comforter while the fireplace crackles its last few breaths towards your feet. It’s easier to stare at the snow than it is to close your eyes and think about Din.
“Damn it.” You breathe.
“What are you damning?”
You swear that you stop breathing for a moment. Despite the fact that he had already spoken, you ask aloud, “Din?”
The sounds of bare feet padding across the floor nears, and the Mandalorian appears in your vision. Barefoot and clad only in a pair of loose gray lounge pants that tighten at his ankles. His abdomen is without cover, displaying an array of healing bruises and deep scars. You sit up, letting your feet hang off the bed.
“You’re still here?” You look at the clock again. “At 1500?”
Din smiles, kneeling in front of you. He presses a mug of steaming Caf into your hands and a kiss to your forehead.
“If it’s alright with you… I might be for a while.”
It’s your turn to smile as he smoothes away your bedhead.
“No arguments.” You sip at the warm mug. “I’ll keep taking my Caf in bed, though.”
___________________________________________________
As always, if you enjoy please like/reblog and check out my links for more :)
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#The Mandalorian#Mandalorian x Reader#Din Djarin x Reader#Mandalorian x F!Reader#Apostate!Din#grogu#baby yoda#mando'a#mando x reader#mando x you#din djarin x you#din djarin#too sweet#hozier#din likes his whiskey neat#and his coffee black
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Ranking Malleus's Valentines Messages from 2021-2024🔥
People finally got the 2024 ones so I decided to make a list like this. Mostly based off which ones have both the most interesting contents and which ones are the sweetest(?) in a sense to Yuu lol. Terminal Malleyuu brain + and I mean they are Valentines cards after all.
Going from least to most personally favored:
4th: 2023
Text: "To my dear friend-
Thank you. Never did I envision someone presenting me with the gift of sweet treats. It would be a shame for me to eat them all by myself. I think I'll share them with you. Would you be willing to provide the tea to go with them?"
Very broadly friendly and nice I guess, but the message of the text is basic and the design of the letter card is also kinda basic🥀 like tbh if you changed the color of this card you could mistake this for something Riddle wrote instead. The ones for this year really just felt like they ran out of ideas and gave up, this is the only one on this list I can say I definitely don't really like that much
3rd: 2022
Text: "To my good friend-
A gift? For me, of all people? Your tastes are...distinctive, I must say. Worry not, though- I enjoyed it, of course. What would you like in return, I wonder? I shall take great pleasure in speculating the answer to that question."
Definitely more interesting than the 2023 one and his personality really comes out in the writing here. Though because of how his closeness to Yuu is characterized here I now feel like it would make more sense if this was the first card and the 2021 was the second one, since if you take the cards to be written in a chronological timeline it kinda feels like Malleus's closeness to Yuu regressed out of nowhere
Not saying people can't change or grow apart later on, but here it kinda has the vibe that he straight up hasn't met them much yet so its as if this was earlier into their relationship. Basically feels if Book 3-4 Malleus got the gift, while 2021 is like Book 6 and onwards Malleus getting the gift.
I really like this one both for the yuu crumbs and it's characterization of Malleus himself, but it's number 3 simply by default of me personally liking the next two more. The gap between it and 2023 is huge😭
2nd: 2024
Text: "To my good friend-
Thank you for your gift. Hmm... This fragrance is meant for pleasure and relaxation? What a tasteful choice. I rather like it; perhaps I shall take more of an interest in these things. You would be welcome to pay me a visit, by the way, should you feel so inclined. I would enjoy sharing an old tale or two."
These are probably the most fun design for the letter cards so far. I think after last year (the 2023 one) they realized they really did run out of ideas for box shaped letters lol.
In general I just like the very sweet and casual friendship implied in this card. As usual he is doing everything in his power to invite Yuu to his place at any given opportunity. Cute how when they hang out they'll tell each other chismis stories, and that Malleus is gonna commit to getting into something just because Yuu gifted it to him. TLDR he's very comfortable around Yuu here that's awesome
1st: 2021
Text: "Dearest,
My thanks for such a truly wonderful present. It is only fitting that I should give you something in return. How about the gift of beauty? Perhaps the gift of song? Or... Well, never mind. Just a joke based on the legends, you know. I shall give you something I picked out myself."
I don't really think anything will ever fully top this one tbh. The greeting just being "Dearest" was so powerful they had to pull bro to the side and tell him to tone it down for the next 3 years🥀
The "gift of beauty song or..." lines can be taken as just him being 3 seconds away from jumping to smooch Yuu (given in the movie the last gift was true loves kiss related after maleficent cursed the baby) which is honestly kinda funny. Down bad /j
Ok back to the main point and minus speculations. This is tied with the 2024 one with showing how close and comfortable (shown by how forward and playful he is here no concern of maintaing image or such) this point of his relationship with Yuu is. This is also the card where he feels the most excited and energetic I guess which is why it's still my overall favorite. Displex had no choice contain the raw Malleyuu power in this one to avoid bias accusations idk
If you want to read into it more I think it's also kinda funny that this could lowkey be taken as him saying we suck at singing/look ugly. And the reason he stopped before revealing the last line is because he realize the joke had already come off as insulting to a human not familiar with the Briar Valley even if his intention was just to be playful as friends do.
Although that would be consistent with the characterization of Malleus as being honest if anyone's performance in something (even Yuu from what we see in voicelines) is lackluster.
He is constructive tho. In these same voicelines usually offers to help teach them to get better and acknowledging it as a feat/compliment itself when they slightly improve, instead of the fanon characterization (usually for masterchef comics) that once he finds out Yuu is behind something he will autonomatically just see it as good quality already.
So yeah idk that's nice and awesome
↑ Drive compiling of the rest of the 2024 Valentines letter pics I found on twitter. There's still some characters missing + trying to look for a clearer picture of the Malleus one lol
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The Other Half of the Social Model of Disability
Lots of people in fandom are aware of the Social Model of Disability, which is a direct contrast to the Medical Model of Disability. Problem is, most of those people only understand half of the Social Model.
If you don't know what I'm talking about, the "in a nutshell" version is that the medical model views disability as something that is broken and which needs to be fixed, and little or no consideration is given beyond trying to cure it (and little or no consideration is given to the needs and wishes of the person who has it). The social model of disability, on the other hand, says that the thing that disables a person is the way society treats them. So, for example, if someone is paralyzed and can't walk, what disables them from going places is buildings that are not wheelchair accessible. (Or possibly not being able to afford the right type of wheelchair.) Inaccessible spaces and support equipment you can't afford are choices society makes, not a problem with the disabled person.
People then take this to mean that the only problem with disability is the society that surrounds it, and therefore in some utopian future where capitalism is no more and neither is ableism or any other form of bigotry, all problems disabled people have will be solved.
Except that what I've just described is not actually what the social model of disability says. Or, rather, it's only half of what the social model of disability says.
The actual social model of disability begins with a distinction between impairments and disabilities. Impairments are parts of the body/brain that are nonstandard: for example, ears that do not hear (deafness), organs that don't work right (e.g. diabetes), limbs that don't work (paralysis), brain chemistry that causes distress (e.g. anxiety, depression), the list goes on. The impairment may or may not cause distress to the person who has it, depending on the type of impairment (how much pain it causes, etc.) and whether it's a lifelong thing they accept as part of themselves or something newly acquired that radically changes their life and prevents them from doing things they want to do.
And then you have the things that disable us, which are the social factors like "is there an accessible entrance," as described above.
If we ever do get a utopian world where everyone with a disability gets the support they need and all of society is designed to include people with disabilities, that doesn't mean the impairments go away. Life would be so much better for people with impairments, and it's worth working towards, but some impairments simply suck and would continue to suck no matter what.
Take my autism. A world where autism was accepted and supported would make my life so much easier ... and yet even then, my trouble sleeping and my tendency to hyperfixate on things that trigger my anxiety would still make my life worse. I don't want to be cured of my autism! That would change who I am on a fundamental level, and I like myself. My dream is not of a world where I am not autistic, but a world in which I am not penalized for being autistic and have the help I need. And even in that world, my autism will still sometimes cause me distress.
There are some impairments--conditions that come with chronic pain, chronic fatigue, etc.--where pretty much everyone with that impairment agrees that the ultimate goal is a cure. But nobody knows how long a cure will take to find (years? decades? centuries?), whereas focusing on the social things disabling you can lead to improvement in your daily life right now.
In conclusion: the social model of disability is very valuable, and much superior to the medical model on a number of levels. But: please don't forget that the social model makes a distinction between disability and impairments, and even if we reach every goal and get rid of all the social factors that disable people, some impairments will be fine and cause no distress to the people who have them, some will be a mixed bag, and some will still be major problems for the people who have them.
Also on Dreamwidth
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may i request getting stuck in an elevator with early season Spence after hours at the BAU and the lights go out and obviously him being terrified of the dark he starts panicking and reader has to comfort him until he eventually explains his fear of the dark in relation to something happening in his childhood. just some angst and hurt/comfort ig? I live and breathe your content <3
malfunction [ s.r ]
Summary:
You and Spencer end up staying late to finish some paperwork after a case, when you finally vacate into the elevator to leave it breaks down, revealing some secrets harboured by both of you and strengthening your relationship in the process.
WARNINGS: claustrophobia, nyctophobia, arachnophobia, mentions of spencer’s bullying
pairing: s1!spencer x gn!reader
genre: hurt/comfort
wc: 3.2k
masterlist!!
a/n: glad i’ve curated an audience of angst and hurt/comfort enjoyers <33
It was late.
12:06AM to be exact.
Silence riddled the bullpen, making the usually bustling office stand completely still.
You might’ve found it a little disturbing if not for Spencer sat a few desks down from you, his mere presence stopping your mind from running rampant with irrational fears of ghosts or demons that might lurk in the dark corners of the room.
It was a little stupid sure, your lanky book-genius of a coworker held no chance of being able to physically protect you from whatever your brain could conjure up, but the mind works in wonderous ways, and he offered you an unintentional blanket of security nonetheless.
You could hear the loose papers of his files rustle as he closed the manilla folder, rubbing his eyes underneath his glasses with a sigh.
Looks like Spencer was done for the night. And by that logic, so were you.
You mirror Spencer as you shut your file, packing it away in your messenger bag and tucking your chair under your desk as you stand, the two of you silently acknowledging each other’s presence as you reach the elevator.
You could practically feel the fatigue surrounding the both of you as you stepped inside, your tiredness bouncing off each other and making you more desperate to crawl into bed and knock out for the night.
It didn’t last for very long.
A loud clunking sound echoed through the metal walls of the elevator, followed by it jolting to a stop, and you had to grip onto the metal bar lining the wall so you didn’t lose your balance.
Your eyes turn first to the small screen above the door, flickering between the numbers 2 and 3 as if it can’t decide what floor you’re currently on.
Then they turn to Spencer.
Spencer's breathing is uneven and his body tense, eyes darting around the tiny enclosed space with a distinct air of panic.
“Reid? Are you alright?” You raise an eyebrow at him, your expression a mix of curiosity and concern.
"N-No, no! I am not alright! This is my worst nightmare come to life." Spencer presses himself against the far wall, as if plastering himself to it will make him part of the elevator and therefore unable to be injured if something goes wrong.
“You do know how unlikely it is to actually get any sort of injury from an elevator accident right?”
"One out of ten point five million. I know that. But this isn't about logic this is about fear." He turns away as he speaks, taking a few breaths in an attempt to calm himself down. "I'm-I'm claustrophobic. And this is not helping."
“Okay- okay- let’s just calm down for a second,” You hold up a hand in Spencer’s direction. You never took him as somebody to have irrational fears like this. You always figured that he’d just use his knowledge to rationalise what was happening and move on. Apparently not.
Spencer looks back at you and nods, taking in another deep breath.
“I'm trying. It's just-“ The elevator makes a rumbling sound that elicits what you can only classify as a whimper to leave his throat. “I can't do this. I can't be stuck in this tiny space for an unknown amount of time. I can't. I just can't. Please. Please, someone. Someone has to know we're in here. They have to.”
“Reid- Calm down.”
You let go of the bar you were holding onto to walk over to Spencer, placing your hands cautiously on his shoulders.
"I-I'm trying. I'm trying."
But he doesn't actually seem to be any better than he was before. His body is shaking, his breaths shaking and uneven.
He's getting very close to having a full blown panic attack.
“Sit down,” You push gently against his shoulders to encourage him to sit, following after him yourself to sit in front of him with your legs crossed underneath you.
Spencer lets out a trembling breath. "What if we die in here? What if no one comes? What if something goes wrong?"
“We’re going to be fine,”
You hold out a hand palm up in your lap as open invitation for him to take it if he needs to.“just take slow breaths Reid,”
"I-I'm trying." He looks down at your hand and almost reaches out for you, but hesitates before yanking his hand back.
He looks away and forces his breath to slow down again. "What if we're in here for hours?"
“Elevators have failsafes Reid, it’ll sort itself out don’t worry,”
Spencer takes a shuddered breath in through his nose, closing his eyes as he repeats your words in his head.
It’ll sort itself out. He doesn’t need to worry.
He meets your eyes with a small nod and you sigh, giving him a sympathetic smile that reassures him he’s going to be fine.
Unfortunately, all of your efforts to calm him down are quickly reversed as the lights cut out, sending the elevator into complete darkness.
His sudden blindness brings a startled cry from Spencer, his body instinctively trying to protect himself and in that split second of shock he grabs your hand.
He clutches at it tightly, eyes squeezed shut.
“Everything’s fine-“ You return his startled grip with a light squeeze of your own.
The grip around your hand feels firm and shaky but the contact helps to ground him, bringing some of his panic down a notch or two.
“It's not f-fine. It's dark. I don’t like the dark . I hate it.”
“You’re scared of the dark?” You sound more surprised than you mean to, and although you can’t pinpoint all of his features in the shadows, you’re sure you can see his eyebrows knit together.
“11% of the US adult population is afraid of the dark.” His tone carries an air of defensiveness through his fear, although he doesn’t seem offended enough at your comment to sacrifice the physical comfort that your hand is offering in his.
“Oh- no- I didn’t mean it as a bad thing-“ You shake your head despite the fact that he can’t see you, tightening your hold on his hand as an offer of reassurance. “I just- didn’t see you as somebody to have a fear of the dark is all-“
“What’s that supposed to mean?” You can hear the slight waver in his voice as he speaks, clearly trying to distract himself in your questions so he doesn’t have to think about his current situation.
You’d also wager he has his eyes shut, as ironic as it is.
“I just meant- you know- your brain rationalises everything so quickly that I figured you just wouldn’t have fears like this?”
He chuckles nervously, the sound echoing in the darkness. "Well, even the most rational minds have their quirks, I suppose. Fear doesn't always follow logic." The tension in his voice begins to ease, and he opens up a bit more.
“Is there a reason you have a fear of the dark?” You could understand his claustrophobia to a certain level, but nyctophobia wasn’t something very common in adults, especially ones who work as field agents for the FBI.
“I uh- it was just something that happened when I was younger, it’s stupid really-” Spencer skirts your question with a half-truth, not divulging any details of his seemingly irrational fear of the dark.
He shifts slightly, adjusting to find a more comfortable position on the floor, his hand tugging yours and in the process forcing you to change your seating position as well.
You squeeze his hand gently. "Do you wanna talk about it? People usually find it easier to rationalise their fears if they voice them to another person,” You use Spencer’s own intelligence against him in the hope that it’ll get him to open up.
As much as you had learned about him in the past two years, you still knew surprisingly little about Dr. Spencer Reid and his life outside of the office.
You knew all about his academics, how he liked his coffee with as much sugar as humanely possible, how under normal circumstances he would rather lick a toilet seat than shake someone’s hand.
But you didn’t really know him; And you figured this might be a good place to start.
“I… It’s not something I like to dwell on,” He tries to shut down your questioning once more, clearing his throat to try and rid of the lump that forms when he thinks back to the origins of his fears. “It’s not exactly a nice thing to remember,”
“I get that, some of my childhood memories aren’t the best either,” You let out a breath that could almost constitute as a laugh of exasperation. “But it might help, and i’m sure that just getting it off your chest will give you piece of mind nonetheless,”
You can hear Spencer take in a breath through his nose, and through the small adaptation your eyes had made to the darkness you could just barely see his lips purse into a line, debating whether or not to divulge his childhood to you.
It’s not like he didn’t trust you with it. Quite the opposite. He’d come to enjoy your presence over the time you’d spent working together.
You didn’t judge his intelligence, nor did you reduce him to it. You just saw him as another person and it was something that he was incredibly grateful for.
He knew you wouldn’t make fun of him if he told you, but he wasn’t worried about that. He was worried that you’d pity him.
That you’d treat him like some fragile object that would break if you spoke too loudly in its presence.
That’s something that he’d never want.
“I- don’t want you to think of me differently…” His voice was still laced with fear as he spoke, but this time it wasn’t a fear of the dark metal box he was trapped in; It was a fear of how your view of him would change.
“Reid…”
“I don’t want to be pitied or have people walk on eggshells for the sake of hurting my feelings…” You can practically feel his apprehension through the way his hand tenses in yours.
“Reid-“
“I’ve just managed to get people to treat me normally and I don’t want all of that to go down the drain-“
“Spencer.”
You can see his eyes snap upwards towards yours as you raise your voice, and you pull his left hand into your own to hold both of them in your lap, eyes chasing his in the darkness to maintain eye contact. “You’re human. Humans have fears and they have bad memories, and it’s not going to change anything about how I treat you.”
“Tell you what,” You give his hands a squeeze, leaning forwards slightly towards him to try and get a better look at his face. “I’ll tell you one of my childhood tragedies if you tell me yours, deal?”
He goes silent as he ponders your offer, ending with a small nod that you can only half see. “Okay…”
“Okay,” You return his nod with your own, running your thumbs over the backs of his hands. “So, i’ll go first,”
“When I was eight, my cousin thought it’d be a good idea to let his pet tarantula crawl all over my face whilst I was sleeping, and I woke up with it half in my mouth,” You practically shudder at the memory. “Needless to say I developed arachnophobia after that,”
You laugh breathily, shaking your head slightly. “It was not very fun,”
“Why would he do that?”
You shrug slightly, arms moving enough that he can feel it where your fingers connect. “He was a bit of a bully if i’m honest, but he’s matured since then thank god,”
“Are you- still afraid of spiders?” Spencer’s eyes practically shine in the darkness, big, round and glistening with curiosity as they scan your face from beneath his glasses.
“Promise not to make fun of me?” Your question is answer enough, but he still nods softly nonetheless. “I think they’re terrifying,”
“Almost 20% of the US population has arachnophobia, it’s a very common fear to have,”
“So is a fear of the dark,” You bring the conversation back to Spencer’s fear once more. “Willing to tell me its origin story yet?”
Spencer sighs, his shoulders slumping and his head leaning back against the wall of the elevator. “It’s-“ He exhales through his nose, his eyes diverting from yours to stare at your interconnected hands.
“When I was in school I was bullied a lot…” He purses his lips and you nod. As sad as it is you’re not exactly surprised.
Someone as insanely intelligent as him was unfortunately bound to be tormented by those who were academically inferior to him, it’s a by-product of jealousy.
“They uh… stripped me down and tied me to a goal post, and- then they just left me there-“ Spencer’s throat catches as he speaks, and you can see through the way his eyes flicker around that he’s replaying the memory in his head.
“I- managed to untie myself after a while, but I spent over an hour searching for all of my clothes and ended up walking home in the dark half dressed…” Spencer’s lip quivers as he reaches the end of his explanation.
“I don’t think i’ve ever been more scared in my life…”
“I’m so sorry they did that to you…” Your eyebrows furrow with sympathy, and you shift your hold on his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. “Nobody should have to experience that…”
Spencer exhales, and you can hear the shake in his breath. “I thought if I just buried it that i’d forget, but I still remember it like it happened yesterday…”
The curse of an eidetic memory you suppose. Destined to remember every detail of the worst experiences you’d ever had.
Although you’re sure that Spencer wouldn’t need an eidetic memory to have what happened to him burned into his brain.
“Spencer…”
“I’m sorry-“ Spencer shakes his head, attempting to pull his hands out of yours. “I told you it was stupid-“
“Hey. No.” You close your hands around his to stop him from pulling away. “That is in no way stupid at all.”
“You went through something awful and developed a fear because of it. That is the furthest thing from stupid Reid,”
“I just-”
You cut off Spencer’s attempt at a rebuttal with a pull of your hands in his, separating them only to wrap your arms around him in a hug. “No excuses.”
Spencer is stiff in your embrace, unsure of what exactly he should be doing. Should he hug you back? Should he pull away to regain his personal space?
He wasn’t exactly sure. He did however, feel like he was going to cry.
He could feel the tears welling up behind his eyelids, squeezing his eyes shut to stop them from falling down his face and hiding his face against the curve of your shoulder so that you wouldn’t be able to see the shadow of his expression.
God he was pathetic.
Sat in his coworkers embrace because he was scared of the goddamn dark.
On the verge of tears because of something that happened twelve years ago.
A twenty four year old man. A fully grown adult.
His shoulders begin to tremble as he thinks about it, and you can feel the way his breath catches in his throat as you bring your hand to the back of his head to hold him closer to you.
“This is pathetic i’m sorry…” He shakes his head against your shoulder, hindered slightly by the way his glasses sit on the bridge of his nose.
“Shhh,” You shake your head in tandem with his, leaning your cheek against the side of his head as you rub your hand over his back. “Don’t be silly,”
"You're not pathetic, Spencer," You reassure him, your voice gentle. "Everyone has their own fears and struggles. It takes strength to open up about them."
He takes a deep, shaky breath, trying to compose himself. "I just never thought I'd be so affected by it for this long."
"Trauma doesn't have a set expiration date," you say softly. "It's okay to still be working through things. And you don't have to face it alone."
Spencer finally relaxes a bit in your embrace, allowing himself to accept the comfort you're offering. "Thank you," he mumbles, his voice barely audible against the fabric of your shirt.
“No problem-“ You don’t finish your sentence before the lights come back on, causing you to squint from the sudden brightness.
The sudden light flooding the elevator exposes the position the two of you had found yourself in, your legs tangled together as Spencer sits in your embrace with your arms around his torso and his hands resting limply by your waist.
“See?” You pull his face away from your shoulder gently, leaning back to finally get a fully clear view of his face. “Nothing to worry about,”
“Yeah…” He nods softly, eyes still a little red from holding back his tears, and he sniffles as he pulls away from you properly when the elevator starts moving downwards again.
“Do you want a ride home?” Your invitation is obvious as you two of you pick yourselves up from the floor, your eyes silently encouraging him to accept your proposal.
“I-“ The elevator came to another halt, this time thankfully opening its doors on the ground for the two of you to leave.
He had his train ticket in his pocket, but he was willing to forget it for now.
“That would be great, thank you…”
“No problem Spencer, let’s get outta here,”
He tries to brush aside the way he feels when you call him by his first name, nodding softly with pursed lips.
“Yeah, let’s get out of here…”
#criminal minds#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#criminal minds x reader#mgg#criminal minds angst#spencer reid angst#asks 🫶
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Halfas and Fear Gas
Ive seen a lot of "fear gas makes danny high." Its hilarious and i love it. Other variations i recall seeing are: fear is not as potent, complete immunity, 'food supplement' fear gas, and the boring 'effects him like normal.'
BUT.
I haven't really seen anyone treat effect effect on the brain and core as separate processes. In other words, humans get affected one way, ghosts get affected another way, and halfas get blasted by both.
We already know how normal humans are affected, so we dont really need to go over that. Ghosts, however, are free reign. (Unless there's a canon incident where a ghost like boston brand or gentleman ghost are exposed to a fear gas attack? Any DC canon nerds out there that know of something like that?)
The options I've seen or thought up so far:
Complete immunity - ectoplasm just doesn't react to physical matter in a way that impacts the ghost. Fear gas, as in the chemical itself, has no effect whatsoever.
Effects ghosts like humans. Straight forward, it's a bit weird if you think about it, but eh.
Fear gas, as in the chemical itself, is like ghost weed, or perhaps something stronger. Might be hallucinogenic, but in a bad trip sort of way rather than a worst fear sort of way
Fear gas, as in the chemical itself, is accidentally a super effective health suppliment for ghosts
If emotions are food to ghosts, fear gassed humans can span the range between 'delectable snack sprinkled with extra sugar' to 'weird chemical food that isnt healthy but will still sustain you' to 'supercharged health snack completely saturated by nutrients'
Fear gas, either the chemical itself or the people affected by it, has a distinct smell. It could be good, bad, or neutral, possibly related to how it affects the ghost. (Or deceptive, for humor and/or angst.)
Fear gas is outright toxic to ghosts. Perhaps the chemical itself is similar to, but just left of, ectoplasm. Like many artificial chemicals that can substitute various nutrients / usurp metabolic pathways in humans, it could have any number of mild to debilitating, short to long term effects on ghosts.
(If anyone has another idea, feel free to add)
Now we get to halfas, who have both a human brain and a ghost core. Dany has a human body and brain that are affected normally by the fear gas: hallucinations, panic attack, adrenaline response, etc etc. Someone better at biology can describe the actual biochemical processes going on.
But the ghost core? Added on top of All That? Can be excessively angsty, somewhat mitigating, or outright hilarious.
Going through the list of options:
Complete immunity.
This sounds boring, but its actually my favorite. Why? Because danny is getting conflicting signals. His brain is compromised and in full panic, but his core is telling him that he's completely safe. As a hybrid, Danny could be capable of having critical thought with both organs. If he's clever enough to recognize the seperation between the two, he can exploit it as a sort of anchor (I'm imagining it somewhat like how a multitasker can do different things with different senses, like listening to an audio book while solving a jigsaw puzzle - the book is auditory, the puzzle is visual and tactile, neither interfere with the other.)
Danny, in this scenario, is definitely in an altered state of consciousness, seeing things that aren't there and right on the cusp of panicking or defending himself. But if he can recognize that his core is unaffected, he can focus on the sensory input that his core is processing, and the whole situation might be somewhat equivalent to becoming lucid in the middle of a nightmare - its terrifying, but just the recognition that it isn't real takes the edge off. To him, it's now like being stuck in a VR horror game and being unable to take the headset off, flinching at all the jumpscares but recognizing that his body isn't actually being attacked or injured.
Affects ghost like humans
Danny could either be affected exactly the same as anyone else or effectively double-dosed as both brain and core fight entirely different hallucinations. Maybe if danny is lucky, he'll just black out from the sensory overload.
Ghost weed
This could make what was initially designed to be a really bad trip into something catastrophic... or mellow it out. Idk. I've never done recreational drugs. Both the brain and core are cut off from reality. The brain is terrified, and the core is tripping out. If his core naturally reacts to his emotional state, it's gonna amplify the effects, which is Really Bad. If the core is compromised to a point where it can't really process anything, then Danny is still trapped in a nightmare state, just more loopy and otherwise no worse than any human.
Health supplement and/or literal food
This one is confusing. Brain is terrified, core is satiated? Energized? A boost to his powers is gonna make him much more difficult to contain and treat. When he comes out of it, there's real potential for angst from danny worrying that the conflicting emotions of absolute terror and hunger satiation are a sign that he's turning evil. Especially if his core was instinctually feeding off of the fear of nearby civilians who were also gassed during the trip. That undercurrent of predatory satisfaction is gonna leave him awake at night for a few weeks.
On the plus side, feeding his ghost core might help it clear out the toxin faster, so the trip is much shorter. Maybe he even pulls out of it before he accidentally causes any damage with his powers.
Smelly
Pretty straightforward. If it smells bad, Danny is automatically gonna hold his breath, limiting his exposure. If it smells good, he might take a good few wiffs before realizing what's up and holding his breath, or just keeps dosing himself more and more as that effects, good or bad to the core and definitely bad to the brain, settle in.
Toxic
Has the potential to be much more long-term and insidious. You can run the full gamut here. Does he need to be restrained and taken to the far frozen for days or even weeks of treatment? Does the ectoplasm incorporate the drug, and Danny has to suffer weeks or months of microdosing until it's used up, turning him into a paranoid schizophrenic during that time? Is it blood blossoms 2.0? Does it have no mental effects but screws with his powers? Does it influence his emotional self-control? Does he grow the ghost equivalent of a tumor that encapsulates the toxin and has to be surgically removed? Does he need supplemental ecto to remain healthy, temporarily, or permanently? Does it affect his ectosignature or peak power level? Injure his core? Lower his healing factor?
All of this is on top of the initial fear gas trip, which he may have never even fully pulled out of. The angst possibilities are endless.
Then, there are liminals who have the potential to be affected like halfas or in an entirely different way. Does your headcanon give them proto-cores or baby ghost cores, or are they just severely ectoconaminated? How would that change their symptoms?
Anyways, just some ideas for people to use. My favorite idea so far, that I'd love to see someone use, is that Danny has learned to use his separate brain and core as insurance against mind control and mind-altering drugs. The freakshow incident was a sort of catalyst that helped him recognize the differences between his brain and core, and he taught himself how to lean into one or the other for various advantages in different situations. (Sort of like how a person can lean on either logic or intuition to make different types of choices.)
There's a lot of interesting potential here. Essentially, Danny could teach himself to be immune to mind-control and greatly resistant to drugs, as he can evaluate his surroundings with both organs and identify differences. Mind control wouldn't work unless it targeted BOTH brain and core, as he could shift to the uncontrolled one to break away. Any drug designed to knock out or roofie a human is countered by the fact that danny's core still remains conscious of his surroundings, and creative use of ghost powers counters the accompanying paralysis.
If ghosts dont sleep, one could argue that Danny's core is in a meditative state when his brain rests, which is why his ghost sense can wake him up from a dead sleep - he's never fully unconscious. Workoholic danny could find a way to get homework or paperwork done, or solve a problem, or design a piece of tech, or even play a videogame, while 'sleeping,' even using ectokinesis to move stuff while his body is sleep-paralyzed. Sleep-deprived danny is still functional because his core isn't affected by his brain's lapses in consciousness from micro-naps. (He is a lot moodier, though. His core is more emotion-focused while his brain is more logic-focused, on top of the normal mood-swings from sleep deprivation.)
This version of danny, after being fear-gassed, immediately recognizes that his brain and core are suddenly experiencing two different realities. He would be able to talk himself down from a panic attack and slowly find his way to safety. He probably wouldn't trust himself to hold back if he got in a scuffle, but he would be coherent enough to vaguely understand his surroundings to avoid danger.
And lastly, something I dont recall seeing in any fics - if the bats encountered fear-gassed Danny, and he's aware enough to refuse an antidote, I dont think the bats would push it. Yeah, forcing more medical trauma on our favorite blorbo is all good and fun, but he clearly has an altered metabolism that was affected differently by the fear gas than normal, so there's a heightened risk that the antidote would also have an altered affect, for the reward of removing the effects of fear-toxin (which is no longer guaranteed), which danny is already showing he's capable of working through.
On top of that, medical professionals are not allowed to force treatment if the patient refuses them and can walk it off. (If they are unconscious or can't get up on their own, they can intervene.) Medical conditions and allergies are a thing too, and its the priority of the patient to inform the medical worker as soon as possible to prevent complications. Jazz may have coached Danny about "in a medical emergency, declare closet-meta status with highly modified metabolism and unknown reactions to most drugs."
I see the conversation going something like:
"If you can hear me, im going to administer an antidote."
"Dont. Give it to someone who actually needs it."
And then the bat treats everyone else before approaching danny again to ask how they can help. They would be trained to take all of this into account:
Human male, visibly uninjured (unless the fic writer has different ideas) experiencing non-standard reaction to fear toxin. Probable indication of meta or enhanced status.
Victim is cognizent, replied to verbal communication, denied treatment. Appears to be managing the effects of the fear toxin. Not currently a danger to themselves or others.
Nonstandard reaction to fear-toxin implies potential non-standard reaction to antidote. Victim may be aware of medical condition that could complicate treatment, and is reasonably stable at the moment. Further questioning needed.
There are other victims in the area that are less cognizent, they become higher priority. Approach victim again when all other victims are cleared out, (in case of uncontrolled meta powers, to avoid further casualties), ask more questions and ascertain situation.
Once questioned further, danny drops the memorized line about altered metabolism and unknown effects, and giving Danny the antidote basically immediately becomes a non-viable option. They will probably argue Danny into being taken to Leslie's clinic, as he'll refuse a hospital (probably quite hysterically, given the fear toxin), which i'd imagine is the bat's normal protocol for closet-metas.
At least, that's how I imagine the situation panning out. Danny noping out before the bats return to him or during mid-interrogation is also extremely likely, which is gonna put the bats in panic mode for the next several hours. (Going to *any* secondary location with the bats is a non-option to Danny, for many potential reasons.) Danny is definitely going on a watch list (as in, possible meta with unknown powers, keep an eye out in case he gets caught up in another rogue scheme, need more information).
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you'd never guess (i'd never know)
synopsis: the only thing eddie roundtree likes about billy dunne is his younger sister.
warnings: smut, dirty talk, swearing, unprotected sex (reader is on the pill, but it's never mentioned)
a/n: the lack of eddie smut on here is appalling
♡
“Where are you going?”
Frozen in your tracks, you slowly turn around and meet Eddie’s still sleepy but inquisitive gaze, and as his eyes look you over from head to toe, it morphs into a distinctive shade of lustful. You allow yourself the liberty to admire him as he does the same to you - unguarded and vulnerable in his half-awake state, the nest of tangled light brown hair on top of his head, his naked body painted with love bites underneath the white hotel sheets.
You want to kiss him.
“Sweetheart, c’mon. Come ‘ere.” He tries coaxing you, but you know the rules by now. No matter how sweet the temptation is, no matter the things his deep, husky morning voice does to your insides, no matter the way your heart threatens to beat out of your chest everytime you lay eyes on him, you need to be unfailingly secretive about this, whatever it is, between you two. Otherwise the deadly tornado of a man your brother Billy is will turn it into ruin with a single flick of his hand.
Even still, it seems that you’re the only one rightfully worried.
"Eds, I have to leave, you know this.”
Something hardens in his gaze for a moment, but it quickly slips away. It pains you to watch it. You lean down to kiss his cheek in an attempt to make him feel better, but he turns his head around, capturing your lips with his. You gasp and instinctively fist your hands into his hair as he rearranges you to sit on his lap. There’s something desperate about the way he holds you and kisses you this particular morning and it sets everything in you on fire. You moan into his kiss despite your brain screaming at you to get the fuck up and leave before anybody finds out you’re not in your room. Eddie seems to sense your overthinking, as he usually does, and slips his cold hands underneath your blouse, letting his long fingers trace your spine, trying to soothe you.
"Focus on me. Don’t think about anything else.” Eddie instructs and you suddenly feel lighter.
You kiss him again, a silent thanks for bringing you back to the present, and it’s his turn to moan as he presses you down on his hard-on.
"A couple of kisses and I’m already rock hard like a fuckin’ teenager. Jesus, the things you do to me.” He mutters, more to himself than you, but the words still manage to leave their impact on your nether regions.
“Eddie, Eddie…” you pant as his mouth begins to place greedy kisses down your neck. “We’re…we’re going to be late for breakfast.”
He laughs against your skin and you swear you’ve never felt something so good.
“I’m already having my breakfast, sweetheart, and it’s much better than the shit they serve down there.”
Fuck.
---
“Anyone got any idea where Eddie and my sister are?” Graham asks his friends, in the midst of swallowing his piece of omelet.
Warren shrugs.
“Eddie’s probably still sleeping. I mean, when has he ever shown up for breakfast on time? Let the guy get some sleep, man.”
Graham nods a couple of times, deeming the explanation logical. It doesn't stop him from thinking about the person left out from it.
"Yeah, sure," he starts "but my sister always shows up. I...I don't know, maybe she slept in this time, but maybe I should go up and check."
Karen suddenly pipes in from her place next to Graham, putting her hand on his thigh.
"Don't. For we all know, she's just sleeping in." She says, looking at Warren from across the table pointedly, who takes the hint and nods reassuringly at Graham. "And you know how she gets when someone wakes her up. Let her rest."
"But what if she's hungry when she wakes up?"
Karen sighs, closing her eyes for a couple of seconds. Warren inhales sharply, a tell-tale sign of him holding in his laughter.
"Graham. She isn't an infant. I'm sure your sister is fully capable of getting breakfast for herself." She says, but he still doesn't look entirely convinced.
"Yeah, but I don't want her to be alone." Graham pauses. "I don't want her to feel lonely, y'know."
"Hey, chill man. She and Eddie wake up around the same time anyway, they usually get breakfast together, don't they? I really don't think there's anything to worry about." Warren adds, as he takes the last bite of his P&J sandwich.
Graham silently leans back in his chair and Karen takes the opportunity to change the subject.
"Anyway, uh, how's Lisa, Warren?"
KAREN SIRKO: I knew she and Eddie were fucking from the moment I saw them together.
WARREN ROJAS: For the record, I had no idea they were fucking.
GRAHAM DUNNE: [sighs] Can we not talk about this, please?
---
"Yeah, just like that. Fuck, you look so good bouncing on my cock like that."
You don't know how long you two have been going at it. What you do know, however, is that Eddie Roundtree, the insatiable sex maniac, has already put you through five different positions and this is the sixth one.
"Eddie, I…I don't think I can..." You start saying as you feel your strength leaving your body, but he knows. He always knows.
He tightens his hold on your hips and drags you up and down his cock and you have to physically put a hand over your mouth when he hits that spot inside of you.
"Found it, huh?" He comments, with that goddamn cocky glint in his eye and you would have normally rolled your eyes at him if it weren't for the fact that they were already rolling towards the back of your head.
"Shut...up!" You pant, and he smirks. As soon as you see that smirk, you involuntarily tighten around him. Eddie groans when he feels it and you lean down to kiss his Adam's apple, and then - him. He cups the back of your neck with one large hand and you shiver.
"I'm, I'm close. Eddie, fuck!" You barely manage to stutter out and he goes even faster, the sounds of skin slapping against skin echoing throughout the room. He presses a sweet kiss to your collarbone and immediately goes back to whispering filthy things into your ear.
"Cum for me, love. Cum on my cock." He urges, breathless, something swimming in his eyes you've never seen before, and you do just that.
You think you might have screamed. You don't know. All you remember is Eddie.
You hide your face in his shoulder, sensitive and exhausted - he cums shortly after, your name on his lips like a prayer. You sigh when you feel him soften inside of you. He falls back on the pillows and you fall along with him, head on his chest and his hand playing with your hair.
It's comfortably silent after that, so silent in fact, that for a second you think Eddie might have fallen asleep. You tilt your head upwards to place a kiss on his jawline, but you find him already staring back at you, an uncharacteristically contemplative look on his gorgeous face.
"What?" You question, growing increasingly worried.
This is it, you think, this is when he ends things.
My worst fear is coming true.
EDDIE ROUNDTREE: Y'know, I've played in front of hundreds of thousands of people. I know what anxiety feels like. But laying in that bed with her, looking at her, was the most nervous I'd ever felt in my entire life.
"I…" He begins and closes his mouth, as if carefully choosing his words, but doing nothing to ease the pit in your stomach. "Well..."
You stand up upright, a typical "Dunne frown", as he liked calling it, on your face.
He should look me in the eyes, at the very fucking least.
"Oh, is this what you're doing now? Fucking me one last time before you reject me? You've had your fun, is that it?"
Y/N ROUNDTREE: I do admit that I... misjudged the situation. But when you've been with assholes in the past, sometimes you come to conclusions a bit too quickly.
Eddie's face scrunches up into a mixture of shock, confusion and slight sadness.
"What?" He asks so loudly that it makes you feel embarrassed. "What in the actual fuck are you on about? Why would you even think that? Sweetheart, I was going to say I love you."
EDDIE ROUNDTREE: I'll never forget the look on her face, swear to God. [laughs]
"What?" You parrot back, just as loudly. It takes a beat or two for the words to sink in. When they do, you start laughing like you've never heard anything funnier.
Eddie simply looks at you like you've grown two heads.
"Oh, Eds. Please don't lie to me like this." You cover your face with your hands.
Suddenly, your hands are being gently pulled away - he's staring at you so softly you think you might die. You might have actually died and this is your heaven. It certainly feels like it.
He whispers your name and you whisper his back.
"I love you." He says, cupping your cheeks, and keeps repeating it as if trying to get it through your head.
"Eddie…" you breathe against his lips. He pulls your bottom lip down with his thumb, pupils dilated like you're his new favorite drug. You might actually be. "Eddie, I lo-"
"SOUNDCHECK IS IN 30 MINUTES, ROUNDTREE, GET YOUR ASS OUT OF THE DAMN BED!"
Fuck.
---
EDDIE ROUNDTREE: She might not have told me she loved me that day, but - [shows wedding ring] - I know. I know.
♡
#daisy jones and the six#daisy jones & the six#eddie roundtree x reader#eddie roundtree fanfic#karen sirko#graham dunne#warren rojas#eddie roundtree#eddie roundtree smut#I AM IN LOVE WITH HIM YOUR HONOUR!!!!!#not an eddie apologist because he's done nothing wrong ever#josh whitehouse#djats fic#djats tv#eddie loving
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just came across a fic where aithusia is still a dragon but is disguised? can shapeshift? into a human form (smol child) with merlin as her father and now i’m obsessed with the idea of this dynamic, so consider:
- dragonlords all have dragon forms. merlin has a dragon form
- dragons all have human forms. kilgharrah as a man, bitter and cryptic and scarred from the purge, angry for being chained. aithusia, a young child, bone-white hair flowing long over her shoulders. her arms bend wrongly at the joints and tiny, paper-thin scars cover her body, from her time with the sarrum of amata
- there’s a distinction between the magic of dragons and the magic of dragonlords. the markings of dragons are different. their eyes in human form are all amber-gold, something in their teeth not-quite human. dragonlords are the natural leaders of the dragons, often more powerful in certain magics, especially in human form.
- in books of magical creatures and sorcery, dragons and dragonlords are put side by side, but categorised separately, for the difference in their appearance and abilities in magic. the sketches all show men with a beastly shadow, enormous and scaled and expressions set equally angry.
- the dragons are all kin, so culturally they all have a responsibility over the young. this counts doubly for dragonlords, protectors of the dragons. this makes merlin the natural guardian of aithusia.
- merlin, after rescuing her from the sarrum, returns to camelot with a tiny, fragile girl in his arms, bundled in rough blankets. the only explanation he gives is my daughter before he’s pushing past arthur to take her to gaius, get her injuries seen
- alternatively, merlin approaches arthur asking for time off to go retrieve his daughter, the same way he asked it for his mother. he’s pale and shaken but there’s a steel in his expression that arthur doesn’t know what to do with
- also, merlin sired a child. his manservant.
- there’s about a million different magic reveals in this. too many to list, but the ideas are exploding in my brain. arthur, clocking on to the fact that aithusia is so obviously a magical child. arthur, heartbroken that merlin didn’t trust him. arthur, initially scared of what he sees as a beast. arthur, in awe of the dragon form, realising the power merlin has.
- the angst of merlin trying to hide her magic in camelot when she’s such a powerful child. the angst of him bringing her to camelot and revealing her existence to arthur only to immediately make plans to send her away to someone trusted, maybe hunith, and arthur doesn’t understand what he means by ‘she’s not safe in camelot’ until he does.
- gwen being so gentle with her. arthur being scared to break her. leon picking her up and letting her curl into the crook of his neck as he carries her back from somewhere she’s wandered off to.
- all the knights being doting uncles (most especially gwaine)
- arthur learning of what the sarrum did to her and why, and rethinking his stance on magic. arthur thinking of all the magical children killed too young, first tortured or persecuted. thinks of all the fear and grief they did not deserve to carry.
- merlin educating arthur on magic after the reveal. taking him to lessons with aithusia to teach her control of her magic, the pair of them watching her fly free in her natural form in the woods for a while. her injuries are healing, slowly, with the help of gaius and merlin’s magic.
- mordred, despite merlin’s suspicions, working hard towards earning trust he isn’t sure how he lost, and starting with proving he can be trusted with aithusia. he is, admittedly, really good with her and she loves him, so merlin can’t completely begrudge it. it leads to conversations that change all their fates.
- aithusia’s first language being the tongue of the old religion. the language of spells. she knows not to speak to avoid getting caught (merrlin tried his best to explain) but once, she slipped up around arthur. all of them freezing, even though arthur knows. the guilt he feels at her terror.
- kilgharrah’s anger at camelot manifesting again somehow. an attack of some kind. arthur being confronted with the question of the magic ban repeal and how to balance keeping his people safe from magic and reparations for decades of the oppression of magic users.
the fic that fuelled this is called The Darkest Dawn by spacegirl7 and quite a lot of the above takes elements directly from the fic, so definitely go read and check it out, it’s so good. i have been thinking about it and its premise for days.
#bbc merlin#merlin#dragonlord merlin#the last dragonlord#merlin headcanon#merlin headcanons#aithusa#kilgharrah#dragons have human form au#arthur pendragon#guinevere#gaius#fanfic#fanfiction#ao3#the darkest dawn by stargirl7#merlin fic rec#merlin fic recs#merlin fanfic#merlin fic#merlin fanfiction ideas#accidental baby acquisition#merlin is a father#merlin bbc
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my suffering is profound and legitimate, yours is frivolous nonsense
Just reading a blogger I like but I had to laugh because she was talking about how beauty practices are bad for women's mental health, and she left a note saying "unlike gender affirming care! gender affirming care improves people's mental health and it's nothing at all like cosmetic practices."
TIL, when an older woman gets botox to remove her wrinkles and avoid facing the inevitability of decline and death, her problem is spiritual/structural and she needs to Do The Work to deprogram her ageism, unlike people with dysphoria, who of course have legitimate claims to cosmetic alteration.
And it is cosmetic - no part of the body that is altered by HRT or SRS or any of the feminization/masculinization surgeries is failing to function or functioning poorly. The problem is with the brain, which perceives the body parts as foreign or undesirable. We may sympathize with someone struggling with such a condition, but that does not change that the body parts being altered were already healthy and the alterations are cosmetic, and the relief being brought about is mental.
But plenty of trans people openly admit that separating body dysmorphia and gender dysphoria is a losing game. Contrapoints's video on "Beauty" (transcript) has the observation that she feels least dysphoric when she is meeting feminine beauty norms:
But I also think that trans people often talk like gender dysphoria is this intrinsic, personal experience that's always 100% valid and never has anything at all to do with the external pressure of beauty standards. But in fact, gender dysphoria is not sealed away in a vacuum away from the influence of societal ideals and norms. [...] When I try to psychoanalyze myself, I find that my desires to look female, to look feminine, and to look beautiful are not exactly the same, but they're woven together so tightly that it's kind of difficult to untangle them. And the opposite is also true, that for me feeling mannish or dysphoric usually goes along with feeling ugly. I don't have a lot of days where I walk out the house thinking "well, I'm giving femme queen realness, but apart from that I look like absolute shit".
Max Robinson's book "Detransition," from an FTM perspective, points out how the prospective trans man views his suffering as unique from and distinct from women's, even as the surgeries they seek are not especially different:
The stereotypical cosmetic surgery patient is seeking to become closer to being perfectly feminine - she wants to be beautiful. Transitional cosmetic surgery, on the other hand, is widely understood to mark the patient as ex-female and therefore unfemale; this is part of the meaning FTMs seek to create through surgery. FTM desire for cosmetic surgery is positioned as something totally different than the stereotype of a woman who 'merely' seeks beauty at her frivolous leisure. FTMs are deemed to have a rare affliction that needs urgent, life-saving treatment. Conversely, there is nothing more common than for a woman to become obsessed with her socially-deemed 'unsatisfactory' looks and desperately seek to change them, believing that such a change is the only thing that can restore her quality of life. This comparison will feel like an insult to the FTM. It will feel that way because we believe other women's suffering doesn't matter, and recognize how much ours does. Women's suffering is ordinary but ours is extraordinary. For us to matter, we must be differentiated from the silly little woman who wants to be pretty so badly she'll pay thousands of dollars (now billable to credit cards and loan programs designed to pay for elective surgeries!) to risk her life and health. These women don't need to be fixed; we do. FTMs know that we don't deserve a woman's fate but have not yet realized that no woman does.
I have more to write on the topic of the relationship between gender identity and beauty culture, but I'll end this one here. It makes sense that somebody who is identified with the opposite sex would also be affected by the standards of beauty expected of that sex. (Non-binary identification is more complicated and requires separate treatment.)
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Harry Du Bois, the skills + DID/OSDD coding
a compilation of most of my thoughts on harry as a system (note: i am system im not just like. pulling stuff out my ass)
1. Structural Dissociation Theory crash course
so for this point i'm going to give you a crash course structural dissociation theory (do not use me as a source for ur knowledge on it this is very like. base level and just to establish context)
structural dissociation states that we all start as multiple different facets, and that as we grow up, these facets all fuse into a cohesive personality. however, in DID/OSDD, ongoing trauma proves it safer to NOT fuse these facets and instead develop dissociative and amnestic barriers between them to varying degrees. these facets cope by developing into individual personalities, and if traumatic events persist, the brain may split more personalities to try and cope with this. this gives us two bits of information that i'm going to use throughout this
1. there is no "original", just alters that host for long periods of time and/or identify with the body the most
2. amnestic & dissociative barriers are fluid. in times of rest, these barriers may start to come down between some alters, but not necessarily all.
**NOTE: these are not hard and fast rules and vary from system to system. it's also vastly different if you have Polyfrag DID or Complex DID. since I don't hc Harry as polyfrag or complex tho, i'm not gonna get into that
2. Harry (the system)
so it's pretty easy to establish that harry has a good handful of childhood trauma. being born in a military hospital + town and growing up there means he probably saw and/or heard a lot of death and sickness. we also know his father left based on the logic passive in the measurehead conversation
we also know from the reaction speed passive when you find out your name that harry was born in a time all these were concerns. most likely, hunger, considering how through the game hunger + eating is an undertone w/ harry
we also have the klaasje half-light passive implying that harry's been raped (might not have occurred during childhood, but still a contributing factor to trauma)
my point being bro has enough childhood trauma and then some to create a system.
we also see a LOT of amnestic barriers between harry and the rest of the skills. besides the obvious not remembering anything, we see the skills remembering things that harry doesn't.
for example, EChem remembers that harry took speed some point recently, while harry himself doesn't
we also see that the skills have distinct personalities and opinions separate from each other. shit we've got a communist (rhetoric) and a fascist (endurance) living in the same fucking body. half light is immediately suspicious of everyone and everything while empathy tries to understand everyone even to their own detriment. and volition and echem need a whole post of their own. thats some pretty strong dissociative barriers
3. Harry (the alter)
to be quite honest with you i think harry as we, the audience, know him is a brand new split, an introject* of an old host that has either fused with another alter or gone dormant. he's trying to fill a different harry du bois's shoes- someone he is fundamentally similar to, but is, at his core, not
*Definition from did-research.org: Introjects are alters that are based off of an outside person or figure. Introjects may or may not see themselves as the individual that they represent.
knowing nothing about yourself, even what you look like, is a common feeling for new splits (in our experience). with the high amnestic barriers separating harry from the rest of the system, it makes sense that the first time he is conscious he is totally lost about his own identity, where he lives, or what his occupation even is.
losing facts about basic reality is probably a dissociative response. things the brain knows (see encyclopedia filling in gaps once given a prompt about something like Fillipe the Conquerer) but doesn't want the new host to know for fear of not being able to function.
4. Certain Alters with Functions
some of the skills fall into alter "archetypes" (not all alters will, even in like. real life systems) and im just gonna list them out here:
ones with subtextual backing:
Volition: Caretaker + Apparent Normal Part
Half-Light: trauma holder
Electro-Chemistry: symptom + trauma holder
Authority: protector
Logic: apparent normal part
ones that are just my headcanons:
Interfacing: little
Endurance: ex-persecutor
Inland Empire: ex-caretaker
here ends my post of articulate thoughts, if u have any like. follow up questions feel free to shoot me an ask. might take me a minute tho
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my brain is rotting out of my s kull boys
anyway heres from my au, pomni and ragatha talking about just trying to tell caine life in the circus sucks and they all want things to change sdfdfs
ANYWAY I BLACKED OUT AND ENDED UP WRITING A THREE PAGE SHORT FANFIC ABOUT THIS SCENE SO.... here goes ugh
Everything was quiet out there, in the big room scattered with blocks and suspended domes of darkened skyboxes. Pomni stood on the balcony. She stared up, along the spirals and ledges, into the Circus’ simulation of nighttime. She didn’t know what made her leave her room and come out there, but she did know she didn’t care for more nightmares like the ones last night brought. Then again, after everything that day—the funeral—she did doubt the likelihood of anything similar to that coming true. She hoped it wouldn’t, anyway.
“Can’t sleep?”
Pomni startled at the sound, whirled around. “Ragatha! Ah… w-why? Should we not… be out here at night?”
Ragatha chuckled, coming closer. “Oh, no, you’re good! Don’t worry about that.” She came to a stop beside Pomni, a few feet away. Her one vaguely humanoid eye glanced up into the night sky. “I just heard your door—I have trouble sleeping too, even after all this time, so I was awake—and I thought you might want someone to talk to. Only if you want, of course!”
“Oh. Okay.”
An awkward pause stretched between them. “Do you… want to talk, or…? I know you had a big day, with that NPC and whatnot, so…”
The shapes of the Circus floor sparkled like a deathly burst of confetti in Pomni’s mind for just a second. She squeezed her eyes shut. “No. No thanks. I just…”
Ragatha’s hands rose to try to comfort Pomni, but hesitated before they actually got close enough. Instead, she clasped them together in front of her. “That’s okay. It’s not easy to get used to. I can go.”
“No, it’s fine. I just—” It was rare that Pomni ever felt choked up. At least, she felt in her subconscious that it was—not that she remembered anything distinct about life before… this. For some reason, though, everything was washing over her right then. Maybe it was Ragatha trying to get her to talk that was drawing it out of her, or maybe it had just finally all caught up to her. Either way, her gloved hands clenched into fists and she held her breath. She wasn’t sure if she even could cry, but she didn’t want to. Not to someone who was basically still a stranger. Albeit a nice one.
It had been a long time since Ragatha had seen anyone but Gangle on the brink of tears. She almost didn’t know what to do—almost. She sat down on the checkered floor, patted the ground by Pomni’s feet. She smiled up at her. Pomni stood still for a moment, unsure, before she finally sank down.
“Don’t worry about talking, if you don’t want to!” Ragatha said.
But words were already tumbling out of Pomni’s mouth, strangled against her tense vocal chords. “I just don’t understand why,” she said. “Why am I here? Why are any of us here? Why did they do this to us, what- what could any of us have done to deserve being- trapped? Controlled? Why…” She shook her head, eyes towards the ceiling and skies again. She let her back meet the floor. “Why?”
Ragatha started to say something, but stopped herself and thought it over. Trying to act like there was any answer to that wasn’t helpful. She knew that by then. After a second, she laid down too. “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m sorry, Pomni. It’s just the way things are—how Caine runs them. There’s nothing any of us can do.”
“Why not?!” Pomni’s voice broke a little. She took a breath, calmed herself. “There has to be something. It can’t… it can’t be impossible to leave. It can’t!”
“I’m sorry,” Ragatha said again. “Believe me, if any real ‘exit’ existed, we’d probably have found it by now. The only way to change anything here is through Caine, and… well…”
Pomni inhaled. “Well what?”
“Well… letting us go isn’t in his program. Making us ‘happy’ is. That’s it. There’s no changing him.”
Pomni’s hands rose to her face. For a moment, she just stayed like that. Then something came to her. “But he’s not making us happy.”
“Yeah…”
Pomni’s head rose. “Does he know that?”
Something between surprise and confusion filled Ragatha’s face. “I… don’t know. He keeps trying the same stuff again and again, so… probably no.”
Things began to click into place in Pomni’s mind. “Then… then maybe we could tell him! Get him to change things! Let us have more say and… and maybe, eventually, leave. If he is made to make us happy, then he’ll listen if we all say we really, sincerely aren’t. Right?”
Ragatha thought about her words. “I mean,” she began, “I don’t remember anyone really trying anything like that in the time I’ve been here—not like what you’re saying, anyway. Maybe… maybe.”
“Then we have to. We have to try.”
Ragatha looked over at Pomni. The desperation she heard in her voice made her nervous, but the hope that came with it was swaying her. “Well… it could be worth a shot!” Pomni looked back at her, the simulated moonlight flickering in her red and blue eyes. The hope in them was growing stronger. It lifted Ragatha in a way she hadn’t been lifted in a long time and crushed her all at once; a wave of guilt came with the joy. Pomni would be disappointed, and Ragatha knew it. Trying to mitigate her optimism, she added, “I mean… it’s not like things can get much worse.”
Pomni’s eyes flicked back upwards. Disappointment, to a smaller degree, had already pricked her with just those doubtful words. “Right.”
Even more guilt filled Ragatha. “I can help bring it up to everyone else tomorrow,” she offered. “I really do think it’s something to try. I’ll stand by you on it!”
Pomni took a deep breath. Her voice was stable again, her breathing steadied by the hands she rested on her stomach. It was worth trying. Anything was worth trying at that point. Like Ragatha said, what could get worse? She shoved the doubts away, to the back of her mind—still very much there, but hidden behind determination. “Okay. Tomorrow.”
Ragatha smiled a little. Pomni didn’t. She just stared up. Silence hung between them again, though it wasn’t awkward anymore; it was tense, filled with fragile hopes, fluffy clouds drifting and evaporating in the sky. Yet, somehow, they both felt a kind of security in it. Security in chance.
“I really, really hope this works,” Pomni said.
“It… probably won’t, if I’m being honest,” Ragatha couldn’t help but say, a nervous chuckle punctuating her words.
“I-I know. Still.”
Something twinged in Ragatha’s chest that made her smile all the more sincerely. Some kind of familiarity maybe, or care, or… maybe a bit of her own hope, awoken after so long. “Well… that’s sure a breath of fresh air around here.” She closed her eye. “I like that about you, Pomni.”
Pomni glanced at Ragatha for a second, but she heard right. Maybe she did have a friend in the Circus after all. Maybe what she guessed after the funeral earlier was right. Maybe, even if whatever happened tomorrow didn’t go as planned, everything would be okay. Somehow.
#tadc#the amazing digital circus#pomni#ragatha#tadc au#au#fanfic#tadc fanfiction#art#ragapom#sneaking that one in there hehaaa#yes theres gay subtext. of course#pomoderator
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Health and Hybrids (VIII)👽👻💚
[I can't remember the original prompt posters for the life of me but here's a mashup between a cryptid!Danny, presumed-alien!Danny, dp x dc, and whatever prompt made the one body horror meat grinder fic.]
PART ONE is here PART TWOis here PART THREEis here PART FOUR is here and PART FIVE is here PART SIX is here and PART SEVEN is here and this is part 8 💚 Ao3 Is here for all parts
Where we last left off... Everybody got lunch! Not Danny, though. :) He was taking a nap. And Wonder Woman
Trigger warnings for this story: body horror | gore | post-dissection fic | dehumanization (probably) | my awful attempts at following DC canon. On with the show.
💚👻👽👻💚
Danny only doesn’t throw something because he already knew someone was on their way. The alien told him so. It’s not a surprise.
There’s someone new here. In his room. At the edge of his curtain. Too close to his bed. Danny doesn’t like it. He doesn’t hiss, because that’s Rude, but he does push his shadow to be bigger. Longer. Darker.
The human just waves. Waits. Holds something out in its hand. Danny doesn’t care. He can’t see it and he’s not going to go over there.
The human makes more words Danny can’t hear. Blech. He wonders what everyone knows here that he doesn’t. Is it French? Is it German? Jazz—
Thinking about Jazz makes his heart hurt.
Danny curls up further into the dark spots on his bed.
The human steps past Danny’s curtain. Danny does hiss, now, something long and low and halfway out of a human hearing range.
The human pauses. Its black haired-head tilts. It says—something else. Its tone is still gentle.
Danny doesn’t trust it. But it doesn’t get any closer, either. It only…holds out a hand.
There’s something in that hand.
It’s a trap, it has to be. But—
The alien said that they had friends in this tower. That the humans here are…safe. Danny doesn’t believe it. Danny is afraid to believe it.
But one of them gave him food.
…And the younger ones feed him all the time.
So maybe. Danny. Maybe he can. He flinches and he leans forward.
Danny can. He can’t see most things. But something aches in his skull where he is meant to see color and shape and familiarity, and something in his melted brain whispers wait, watch.
Danny’s back arches.
He waits. He watches.
…The object doesn’t do anything. The human simply sets it on Danny’s side table, and then it’s an object. A mostly white, somewhat red object. The other colors might be blue, or gray; they’re not distinct enough to be distinguishable in Danny’s mostly mush eyes. It’s oblong, and sort of round and—
Danny jerks upright. He snatches the item off of the table as quickly as he can, brings it as close to his eyes as he can— IT’S A ROCKET!!!! It is!!!! With fuel thrusters and everything!! If Danny had his whole brain he thinks that he could even recognize which one!!
He purrs, and he purrs, and he purrs, and he takes his pillow and he settles the hard plastic into his kind-of-damp (but mostly dry!) pillows and leans into it, happy to have this thing he likes and can recognize!!
Fine. Danny can like this human. When it comes back with little pills in a paper cup, it bravely gets closer, so Danny can see black hair pulled back, a tail swinging behind her, a tinge of red under a mostly-opaque white medical gown, and gold bracelets on her arms.
…Danny touches the bracelets to investigate before he can even be scared. They shiver with energy. Danny’s fragile form shivers back.
The human spends a lot of time with words Danny can’t hear on the paper cup, and she pulls out each little pill inside so that she can say more things, show him what it looks like, let him smell each capsule and tablet.
When the buzzing human comes back with a vibrato of joycurio/us!/joy in its wake, eager to see Danny as he is relieved to see it, Danny shows him the little paper cup.
The buzzing human trills with relief! Relief! Relief!
…That’s got to be safe enough, right? …Right?
Danny…
It’s been a while since he tried to dry-swallow medicine down his torn esophagus, but everyone’s immediate rush to find him water makes the swallow easier than Danny might have thought.
Some of the medicine is going to make him sleepy. Danny remembers enough about medicine to remember that. The thought of being vulnerable and not able to wake up is scary; but if Danny is going to get better, he’s going to have to trust that not every human wants to make sample slides out of his organs and jam needle-long electrodes into his brain, and he will have to fall asleep and not cry about it.
The cup of water the quickquickquick human gets him is so nice. His claws clink against the ceramic of the mug. Most of the liquid actually makes it into his mouth, and some of it even into his throat.
Danny lays down, pulls the rocket ship closer to his fragile form, and purrs. The fastquick human takes Danny’s hand so that he’s not alone.
At some point, his paper eyelids shut.
#medical proceeds to LOSE THEIR MIND that Danny actually takes his antibiotics and iron tablets#Diana: he's...small :( I want to hold him. (Is wrapped in like 30 layers of medical safety gear)#Diana pitstopped at the air and space museum in DC to get Danny something nice#dp x dc#dpxdc#health and hybrids#faer fic#dcu crossover#tw medical#tw gore#tw body horror#kinda#cryptid!au#lying and scheming#danny phantom#spooky lad roaming a space station
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☆ — SONG TITLE: I know what you tell your friends (it's casual)
☆ — PAIRING: mermaid!Kokomi x artist!Reader
☆ — TYPE: SFW, bittersweet angst? I honest to god don't know
☆ — CONTENT WARNINGS: POTENTIALLY OOC for the purpose of the character......mostly, light depictions of blood, drowning
☆ — NOTES: HI ALL I DIED BUT WHO'S SHOCKED LMAO 😜😜 this is for @edgeray's Halloween event, though it's a bit late bc I was ill at the last week of it and I'm lazy😭 GO CHECK OUT EVERYONE ELSE'S STUFF HOLY HELL. Also, my interp of a mermaid is moreso leaning towards what people nowadays THINK sirens are. I js couldn't bear to USE 'siren' bc of how they're acc supposed to be like. Winged creatures, not fish people
☆ — WORD COUNT: 2,801 words
It was often said that one must not go into the beach all alone.
Naturally, people would often tell you of sensible reasons such as possibly having your fragile items like your phone being dropped into the sand or, god forbid, the water or losing said belongings if you were to ever leave them somehow.
However, the most notably repetitive reasoning came out to be the possibility of being missing.. or ‘taken by the sea’, as everyone else would say.
It was a lot easier to just say that someone was lost or missing, but there was a certain reason why most have opted to disregard practicality for the sake of glamorisation—where you live, there has been a concerning surplus of missing persons cases with their last-seen location all being the beach, the seaside, the shore, all the same thing. And no matter how much the police had tried to investigate it (and it’s crazy that they actually did try, though that might be due to government concern), they found nothing conclusive about how the victims disappeared.
Perhaps it was because of the tides washing any sort of evidence away, though such an assumption led to the cases all collectively being dismissed as a suicide because.. well, really, they had to put some sort of conclusion to the case when they couldn’t really find any other possible outcomes without it sounding like more of a conspiracy than it already was.
(Fat lot that did anyway, because you can’t even put nightwatch on post there without them getting taken too.)
..So to a normal person, being at the beach all alone with nothing but a phone and a sketchbook in hand in the middle of the night would equate to one of the dumbest things you can do out here.
It wasn’t like you didn’t care about what would happen to you, or that you were experiencing that particular phase where you went against what was advised of you just because you wanted to be cool or popular or something (you weren’t a child, you were a grown adult with a life, for god’s sake), but oftentimes people like you all had one common flaw: artists were all dedicated to their craft, suffocatingly so.
And you were no exception, even if it had been too long since you drew with any sort of creative inspiration.
You remember when you walked back from god knows where and witnessing the way the moonlight hit the water, its gentle glow reflecting on the tide like fluid glass.
You remember that sweet dulcet tone stopping you in your tracks in the midst of your misery once your headphones lost power, the singing voice holding a certain alluring cadence that rooted you to the spot.
You remember the sight of dark crimson on shimmering claws and scales of blue, pink and purple, the palette much too distinct to be considered ‘natural’.
You remember the brief contact of eyes between your own and a set of glowing orbs that were no less striking than the tail that flapped behind the entity once it turned to have its body be entirely consumed by the ocean’s depths.
As an artist, you knew you had to immortalise the vision seared into your brain. And so, the day after that fateful encounter and consecutive days after that, you visited the beach at the exact time you remembered from before, picked up a pencil and opened your sketchbook to sketch like a madman possessed.
But of course as time passed, so did the freshness of your memory and your recollection of the details that had you entranced in the moment. The background itself? You had no problem. The issue was the oceanic figure; what details were you missing? What was its scale pattern? Was the red meant to mesh with the purple? What was it doing there?
Eventually you convinced yourself that maybe you were seeing things, and the messy scribbles of faint recollections were erased and drawn over with lines that connected the ever-flowing sea. Even when artists were seen as delusional, prone to confuse one thing with another—perhaps that thing was just a trick of the light, or maybe you’re starting to go insane, whichever tickled your fancy—you knew where to stop and come back to reality.
..Still doesn’t mean you had to keep coming back to the spot at the same time over and over again but alas, you couldn’t help it when you woke up at the dead of night just for your legs to lead you to the exact same spot you remember being at that very night.
Despite the constant warnings against the act of going to the beach all by yourself, nothing had happened to you or interrupted your creative flow despite being completely alone so the nights you spent on that exact spot were often peaceful, if a bit devoid of life. That was fine for you though, it meant less distractions from finally finishing this piece and moving on with your--
(You feel warm breath against your skin before you hear--)
“What are you doing?”
You startle, the pencil losing its gentle stability and creating an atrocious line across the page, and for a moment the irritation actually takes over any form of self-preservation you have.
So you start to complain, “I was drawing until you scared me—” then you turn to look at her, "—and made me ruin my own--"
...
Shimmering blue.
"..work."
Your speech fell flat the minute your gaze clocked onto those glaringly familiar set of eyes that pulled you in as if it were the ocean's depths itself. Its highlights were some sort of pearly pink, a soft contrast to the deep dark unknown.
And no pupils.
Maybe a trick of the light again, maybe you're hallucinating. Though you guessed even some of the best painters were kinda crazy back then.
"I apologise for disturbing you but, ah.. I don't suppose you can stop staring now?" And the mystery woman giggles lightly, her hand—a normal human hand, although her nails were manicured sharp and painted a glittering blue—moving to hover over her mouth as if to cover it politely, "I don't think I have anything of interest on my person to give you for.. emotional compensation?"
You blink, and you are drawn back to reality, "Physical, actually. You ruined my work."
"Even worse."
"You don't seem all that apologetic."
"But I am... Can't you tell?"
"It's dark, and our only light source right now are some busted tungsen street lamps." You sighed, putting your sketchbook and pencil down beside you, "Whatever, did you need something? No one's supposed to be out at the beach this late."
"Why not?"
"..Are you a tourist? Actually, no, if you were a tourist, you'd have to be real ignorant to not know... Though I've never actually seen you before."
You weren't sure if you lied just now or not. In fact, you're pretty sure you told the truth, but...
You see her stare at you, and you're unsure of what to do with the quiet.. until she shrugs, "I've been curious of what you were doing all alone at night. No one else seems to come outside."
"Don't you think that's any sort of indication to maybe mind your own business?"
"Forgive my curiosity."
You almost do, and you know not of why.
(Her gentle voice, a soothing lullaby, putting your safety to sleep.)
Instead, you relent, "People have gone missing after giving this place a visit all alone in the dead of night. Nobody really wants to die, so mornings and afternoons are when the people crowd here."
And you tear your gaze away from the stranger to look at the ever-expanding sea, "Come midnight, you won't see a single soul standing on the sand."
"But you're here," she says. "Why?"
"If I tell you, you'll think I'm crazy."
"I don't think I will."
"I doubt that—I don't even know your name."
"Kokomi."
You look back at her, brows raised slightly, "What?"
"My name is Kokomi. Yours?"
...
You tell her your name and state your purpose for coming here every single night. And from then on, the two of you talk until the sun comes up, sketchbook forgotten.
She asks you if you're going to come back now that your drawing's been ruined. You tell her that you don't know, considering your current lack of purpose, but then she says that she'll sit with you as you recreate your ruined art as if that's going to make up for the ruined days—weeks, even—of meticulously-sketched pencil art.
..For some reason, you were compelled to agree.
(Maybe it was the voice, maybe it was the eyes.)
(Maybe it was the feeling of unsettling familiarity that drew you in, or that strange feeling of fight-or-flight.)
And so you continue to go down to the beach at night despite everyone's constant warnings, putting pencil to a new page in your sketchbook after having taken out and thrown away your previous attempt. Though even then, while there are still all sorts of warnings, people have noticed that there have been less and less people going missing from the shore. Can't help but think 'no wonder', considering how you haven't been killed or kidnapped after continuously coming here for so long.
Either way, nothing much has changed in your schedule.. save for a brand new companion appearing at night, her pink hair flowing behind you before going to sit beside you and observe.
Sometimes the two of you sit in comfortable silence, other times one of you talks of whatever comes to mind and it turns into some sort of winding discussion that ends with your sketchbook completely forgotten until you need to leave.
"..If you have something to say, you may as well spit it out."
"Hm?"
"I can feel your eyes burning holes into my skull. You may as well."
"Ah, I hadn't realised that I was staring so hard!" You feel her body draw back from originally leaning onto you and you suppress the urge to pull her back next to you as she continues, "I'm just wondering... Was no one particularly interested in coming outside with you?"
You put your pencil down on the page and look at her with a raised brow, "Are you calling me lonely?"
"No? ..Well, perhaps a little, I admit. I don't ever see you outside with anyone else."
"Oh, so you've been watching me. A bit creepy, no?"
She shook her head, "The observation merely struck me just now. I haven't seen you with anyone else at night, apart from me."
Instead of giving the curious girl an answer, you look down on the pencilled page. There wasn't much that you could really say beyond the fact that everyone else was asleep at this time.. and...
"I like being alone at the end of the day."
"Mmm. Me too."
"..That so."
No one points out the fact that neither of you are alone right now.
Nothing else is said, and you continue on sketching.
Oftentimes, that's what usually happens.
And it's.. nice, being able to just sit there with soothing company—she isn't overwhelming, nor is she insufferably awkward or borderline unbearable. She was like a smooth current, her voice akin to the sound of gentle water and her touch against your skin as she leaned into you cool and refreshing.
Not like you'd admit it.
(You wouldn't because saying that to a stranger's face is, quite frankly, really lame.. though you couldn't help but touch upon the water's detailing a lot more delicately in your sketches.)
(Or think about drawing her as your muse under the moonlight instead.)
One certain topic she was particularly interested in was the iridescent visage you witnessed all those nights ago—anyone would be, of course, in an 'entertaining-the-schizo' sort of way, not.. not her way. Not with genuine curiosity laced with something much more hidden, inquisitive.
"What would you do if that thing came back?"
"Like, to do what?"
"Who knows." Kokomi wore a soft, jesting smile, "Eat you, perhaps?"
"Would you be there with me?"
"Let's start with a 'no'."
"Probably sit there."
"Really?"
As you muse on the question, you take the cap off your water bottle, "May as well die finishing this rather than live with it gnawing on my mind."
"You have no self-preservation, do you?"
"Would it be edgy if I said it was overrated?"
"Perhaps," she shrugged, letting her hair shift and cascade from her shoulders and her arms down to her back. "What would you do if I was there, then?"
You took a sip, "..Say thank you, maybe."
"Oh? Why?"
"For keeping me company? I guess? Dunno, I just feel like I should thank you if I died on this beach with you."
You turn to look at her, and before you could say anything more, you notice the look on her face; it's indecipherable, blank, as if she were sizing you up and profiling you within her mind palace.. but what for?
Her eyes are unsettling—a touch of hunger glimmers in the ocean depths—as they stare at you (and has she ever even blinked once?) but then the moment you blink, her light expression is back as if it was never taken off.
"Let's hope that neither of us die, haha."
"Right..."
You also can't help but notice the way that you are reminded of said visage whenever you look at her, especially when she's by the water.
"Join me?"
"Why should I?"
"Perhaps you need a change of pace," she says as she takes off her lavender jacket and leaves her slippers off the sand. "I get the feeling, but you've been concentrating on your work for a while now."
"I don't swim."
"Don't? Or can't? I can teach you."
"Why?"
"Perhaps being in the water may help you gain a bit more perspective with your art."
"But I only need one perspective. Plus the water would be cold."
Kokomi stares at you with a slightly tilted head, and you can't help but notice her unusual eyes softly glowing but you do nothing but dismiss it, and then ends up shrugging, "Alright. I won't force you, of course. Just..."
She turns her head, "You never know, maybe getting into the water will turn out to be your final step."
..And as she walks off into the ocean, you don't even notice yourself taking off your shoes and chasing her after a beat until--
"Wait!"
She turns around, an eyebrow raised and a gentle half smile on her lips, "Yes?"
You stop just short of her, "Fine, I'll.. I'll go. With you. But you're not letting me go. I know how to swim but it's dark. So."
"Of course not," she reassures you, "I sought you out, after all."
"Huh?"
You don't get a chance to react, not when she takes your hand in hers and leads you to the water.
You don't get a chance to react, not when the both of you submerge yourselves and you are thrown back to that very night at the sight of clustered scales on pale skin.
..Or maybe you can't react at all, not when water starts clogging up your lungs and your consciousness sung to sleep.
...
You woke up coughing your lungs out, sore and very much still full of saltwater.
You woke up alone on the shore, probably for the first time since Kokomi had decided to come up and startle you enough to ruin your focus.
And you got up and ran.
You don't tell anyone, because the only person who would have ever believed you turned out to be someone you wish you hallucinated.
(Never felt so lonely like this in so long, like you don't have a purpose--)
You don't visit the beach for a while. And when you do, you wish you hadn't.
Not when you see a crumpled piece of paper—your scrapped mistake—on the spot the both of you had always occupied at night.
Not when you see the scribbled-out 'thank you' on the back of the page.
Not when you spot that same visage at night all over again, yet with the tainted memory of your near-death and of the brief company that you kept.
And certainly not when she looked at you with those shimmering blue eyes, her claws clear of any sort of metallic red, before she looked away and disappeared into the ocean depths.
(Though you end up finishing what could have been your magnum opus forged from looking at death in the eye all those many nights, you voluntarily put a line across the page and close your sketchbook.)
(You don't end up opening it anymore, not when you feel disjointed.)
(Incomplete.)
#hazy songs!#hazy features!#the ending sucks i gave up on it i fear :(#SIGH did anyone get my casual ref though i beg#sangonomiya kokomi#kokomi x reader#genshin kokomi x reader#sangonomiya kokomi x reader#genshin impact x reader#genshin impact imagines#genshin x reader#genshin imagines#genshin women x reader#genshin women imagines
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Lies of P fan theories - a retrospective (1st anniversary special)
It's been one year now since Lies of P's release, and as someone who has been part of the community since 2022 (joining after the Gamescom trailer absolutely swept me off my feet), it's been amazing to see how invested people were in Lies of P from the get-go, and how much creativity the game has inspired in fans. From the start, we had amazing creations such as fanart, fanfics, and cosplays - and of course, a whole lot of fan theories.
While, naturally, a lot of fan theories people had before the release are debunked right now, I think it'd be fun to take a look back at what people were expecting the story to be like, and how those theories from back then compare to the final game. For that purpose, I will share my own theories that I had pre-release, as well as some from various other people (unfortunately, I lack the sources in most cases, but I’ll do my best to provide credit where they’re from). So, strap in and get ready for a special trip down memory lane! :-)
[Lies of P spoilers!]
Ergo and the Petrification Disease
One big mystery that was set up as early as the first gameplay footage was the nature of Ergo - all we knew from tool tips people painstakingly picked out (kudos to you, btw <3) was that it was some sort of power crystal that was used as an energy source for puppets and responsible for Krat's wealth, but that also brought a curse with it. People on the official Lies of P Discord server were puzzling over what exactly Ergo is, when I came up with a somewhat eccentric theory: that Ergo is crystallized life force itself.
My basis for this theory was essentially the movie “Atlantis: The Lost Empire” (which I’m a big fan of).
[Fair warning, I'm gonna spoil the main plot right here.]
The movie also features a huge, cyan blue crystal (originally a fragment of a comet) that is located in the lost city of Atlantis and believed to be an energy source by a team of explorers. However, as it turns out, it's much more than that: It is the literal life force of the Atlantean people, and if it's taken away from the city, it would mean certain death for all of them. (Which doesn't stop some of the money greedy explorers from trying to do it anyway.) Furthermore, after I became familiar with gestalt consciousnesses, I realized that the crystal possesses a few characteristics of those as well: The crystal has a mind of its own, and right before Kida merges with it in the movie, she whispers “mother” in Atlantean, suggesting she felt her dead mother's presence when the crystal chose her. This could be because her mother merged with the crystal completely (Kida eventually returns with her bracelet, after all), but since the King of Atlantis does say “the crystal thrives on the collected emotions of all who came before us”, it’s highly likely that it is, in fact, a human gestalt intelligence of their deceased ancestors.
[spoilers end]
So when I heard about Ergo being an energy crystal, this was my first idea as well: pure, crystallized life force of dead people. (Also, when I saw the blue color, my brain just went like “Ergo = Atlantis crystal”. xD)
When I shared this theory on the LoP server, one person in particular - named Oxwutex, if I remember correctly (greetings to you if you ever read this ;-) ) - took a liking to it, and together, we spun this theory a little further. They said they could imagine that people tried to refine the Ergo further, which is where the corruption waste in the factory comes from - however, refining something like a life force crystal which is already perfect could have disastrous consequences. I followed this up with my own theory, surmising that if this were the case, the corruption waste and the purified Ergo might represent two sides of the human soul: the vices and the virtues. (A lot of my early theories were based on this dualism, since the distinction between “good” and “evil” actions in the original fairy tale of Pinocchio is pretty prominent.)
Since there were hints that Ergo was responsible for the Petrification Disease early on, I had come up with the idea that the disease was the result of people coming into contact with pure Ergo, leading to a sort of “overpurification”, while I assumed that corrupted/impure Ergo caused the Puppet Frenzy/violent behavior. For me, this was very appealing on a thematic level as well, since it would've symbolized that both vices and virtues are present in every human being. If it was just the vices, we'd turn into feral monsters, but if a person only had virtues, when flaws are the very sign of life... well, you could question whether they are even alive anymore. Metaphorically speaking, they would be made of stone. (It’s interesting to note, however, that the disease was supposed to be spread by magical rats in the beginning; at least that’s what the announcement trailer seems to suggest.)
Back when the demo dropped, the confirmation that Ergo spores were the cause of Petrification Disease made me even more confident in my thesis, as did the “Ergo is Life” pamphlets. When I started streaming Lies of P (my first commented playthrough ever ^^’), I even commented on this, saying:
“Maybe even that this crystal [Ergo] contains the life force of dead people - that's what my speculation was back then.” (My commentary is in German, but here's the video if anyone is interested; the part where I discuss it starts at 26:25.)
Oh boy… I had no idea this was about to age like the finest wine in existence.
About 40 hours of gameplay later, I almost couldn’t believe my ears when Simon confirmed I was dead on target:
“The disease does not signify death. It's the process of purifying a person's essence. A purified human who overcomes the Petrification Disease will gain a strengthened body and a mind free of lies. The essence is Ergo. Yes, the Ergo you use as your power was once a human being.”
When Sophia explained that the Petrification Disease, Puppet Frenzy, and carcass monsters are all linked to Ergo shortly afterwards and literally spelled it out that Ergo is a person’s “essence of life”, I was so flabbergasted that my fan theories were essentially right that I was struck speechless. (You can see my live reaction to the conversations with Simon and Sophia in this video, at 20:08 and 49:56; I think you can tell how gobsmacked I am from just my tone, especially in the conversation with Sophia.) Since I had shared these theories on the official Lies of P server back in the day, some part of my brain even wondered if one of the devs saw it and thought it was so good that they went like “Write that down, write that down!” xD (Though realistically, I don’t think that’s very likely; still, it’s funny to imagine one of the devs reading through the chat, seeing this, and going like “How did they figure this out so fast?!?” xD)
On a more serious note, I didn’t really expect any of my preliminary fan theories to be true at all, but I must say, I’m pretty proud that I essentially hit the mark in this case - not only in regards to Ergo being crystallized life essence, but also the Petrification Disease resulting from “overpurification”.
Another thing I noticed is that Ergo shares not only similarities with the Atlantis crystal, but also with the Protomolecule from The Expanse (I don’t wanna spoil too much of the series’ plot here, but scientists conducting immoral experiments with something they don’t really understand is also a pretty big topic). In addition, a commonality between the crystal and the Protomolecule is that they both came from outer space - and, since there is talk about a “star that answered humans and descended to Earth” in one document, chances are the origin of Ergo is also extraterrestrial.
However, as we know, Ergo wasn’t the actual cause of the Puppet Frenzy - both Sophia’s comment from above and the report from the factory are essentially a “ruse” on the story’s part, supposed to lead you on the wrong track. In truth, it’s Geppetto who overrode the Grand Covenant’s commands and was responsible for the Frenzy.
Still, perhaps the impure Ergo supplies were actually meant to facilitate Geppetto’s plan (the Mad Donkey did say Geppetto and the Alchemists were scheming together, after all) - maybe the more impure the Ergo of a puppet is, the easier it becomes to control them. In contrast, when a person’s Ergo is undiluted and their personality remains largely intact, that might give them more autonomy and make them harder to manipulate. (I think this is what happened with Romeo, who could still give commands to the other puppets despite the zeroth law.)
The backstory of Krat
Speaking of the frenzy, I also had my theories about the potential backstory of it: Lies of P actually motivated me to do some research about real-life automata and their history (people familiar with my LoP posts might be aware of this), and one thing running through it like a common thread from the Middle Ages to the Age of Enlightenment is that automata were always representative of a conflict of rich vs poor.
In fact, during the French Revolution, this was a source of mockery against the country’s nobles, who were compared to their automated toys - pretty and pristine to look at, but soulless on the inside. Meanwhile, it was argued that the poorly paid artisans who built them should be the actual rulers of society, since their minds were clearly superior if they were able to come up with such ingenuity.
For that reason, I was playing around with the idea that there may have been a conflict between the wealthy upper class and the working class prior to the Puppet Frenzy. The competition between the Bastards and the Sweepers seemed to hint at something like this as well, and since the Alchemists were already teased as the enigmatic masterminds early on, I suspected they might have exploited this struggle, releasing the Puppet Frenzy to effectively eliminate both parties and seize power themselves. (Since there was a gameplay tip about the puppets gaining awareness by themselves, I even assumed they might have become self-aware right before the frenzy; in hindsight though, I think this was meant to refer to the old selves of some puppets awakening due to Ergo.)
As of the June 2023 demo, however, these theories were effectively debunked: We learned that the Puppet Frenzy occurred independently of any public uprisings, and that another wave of Petrification Disease had plagued the city at almost the same time - note the word “another”, implying this wasn’t the first time this disease had spread in Krat. Also, I frankly didn’t connect the dots correctly that Bastards and Sweepers were both part of the Stalkers - while Stalkers and Bastards/Sweepers were mentioned in the same gameplay tip, it didn’t specify that the latter were subgroups of one and the same organization. (I wasn’t the only one to interpret this wrong either, since other people assumed the Stalkers to be puppets or even cyborgs.)
Still, it does appear there were some class struggles in the history of Krat: We hear about how the old, privileged families of Krat “struggled for power with new forces such as the Workshop and the Alchemists, who brought about the golden era of Krat”, although that conflict seems to have taken place a long time ago. Also, according to the description of the Krat Police Baton, there was a “violent protest with the factory labor union” once.
Although this isn’t much and doesn’t tell us anything about the background of the protest or the exact circumstances of it, I have been wondering whether it might have been due to low payment and factory laborers being replaced by puppets. Although this may sound very modern, protests against mechanization due to workers losing their jobs and the creation of inhumane working conditions go back as far as the Swing Riots in 1830. It should be said that the riots were less due to technophobia of the workers and more due to the endangerment of their economic and social status in the face of rapid technological advancement, and given that the rise of puppets in Krat happened very fast, the ordinary workers would definitely have been on the losing side.
I don’t know if this is ever going to be explored further at any point, but I would certainly be interested in hearing more about it - or more about the history of Krat in general, if only to clear up some details and make the timeline less confusing.
Pinocchio and Gemini
Let’s talk a bit about our protagonist and his sidekick: Pinocchio and Gemini. Like many other fans, I also had the theory early on that Pino was modeled after Geppetto’s dead son (I think this theory was based on some item description, but I can’t remember which). People on the server speculated that Geppetto’s son died in a violent accident that cost him his arm, and I even took things a step further by suggesting that Pino might literally be wearing his son’s skin (more on this “freak theory” of mine here).
Furthermore, I was quite partial to the idea that Gemini was essentially the soul of Geppetto’s deceased son. I didn’t really have anything to back this up aside from Gemini’s name meaning “twin”, so I never shared it publicly on the LoP server. (Also, Gemini is essentially just a corruption of Jiminy, the name that Disney came up with for the cricket; in the fairy tale itself, the cricket is not named.) Still, I found the concept of Pino essentially being the “body” and Gemini the “soul” very appealing - they may have been split from each other, but they are inseparable all the same. It also goes a bit into Descartes’ mind-body dualism, which is a popular theme in sci-fi stories about robots and cyborgs.
It led me to some fun speculations regarding the story: Assuming that, perhaps, Geppetto’s son died due to an incident on his way to the school he went to (since Pinocchio also goes to school in the novel), and further assuming that this happened a relatively short time ago, maybe some of his son’s former classmates are still alive, and Pinocchio would cross paths with them at some point. They assume him to be Geppetto’s son, asking where he’s been all this time and why he suddenly has a metal arm. Pinocchio then has the option to answer “yes, I am that boy” and come up with some plausible explanation, or to tell them “no, you’re mistaken” which would make things… somewhat more complicated.
I imagined that if Pino went with the first option, Gemini would chime in and provide advice at times to help him navigate interactions with the other boys. My assumption was that while Pino may look identical to Geppetto’s son, he possesses none of his memories; meanwhile, Gemini can still remember his past lifetime, despite being unaware that these memories actually belong to him. (His amnesia was hinted at in the demo as well.) Essentially, he would give Pino brief summaries of past events and tips how to behave in certain situations, and Pino would say “Thanks. Where do you know all of this from?” And Gemini would go like “...Sorry, no idea, buddy.” (You can tell I really wanted them to do something with Gemini.)
Due to the description of the Last Resort, there was also the theory going around there might have been multiple iterations of Pino - in fact, since the text said that the old man feared “his son failing to awaken properly and going into a frenzy”, some people assumed that Pino might have been the original catalyst of the frenzy. After the encounter with Mad Donkey in the demo, the theory that Pino was not the first of his kind seemed all the more likely, since he has definitely met him before and said “This time it's destroyed for sure. Devil's puppet no more, eh?” if you died.*
*I actually do not know if this line is in the final game as well, since I didn’t die to him during my two playthroughs (yes, really).
While it’s entirely possible - but not confirmed - that Pino had predecessor models (I theorized the Broken Puppet in the swamp might be one of those), the remark about the frenzy is more likely referring to Geppetto not being entirely sure whether the override of the laws he himself caused would affect Pino as well (which may be one of the reasons he didn’t bind him to the Covenant). As for the circumstances of Pino and the Mad Donkey’s previous meeting, those are a little more obscure - it appears that Pino wasn’t even able to wake up without Sophia’s help, so the only possible explanation is that the Mad Donkey fought one of his predecessors. (The Nameless Puppet probably also existed back then, but Carlo’s corpse - ironically - has next to no similarity with Pino, so it’s unlikely the Mad Donkey would’ve recognized them as the same.)
Someone on Tumblr even had a completely different theory about Geppetto's presumed son: After the official release month trailer dropped (the release being later moved to September), they commented on the facial similarities between Pino and Simon, proposing that Simon might actually be Geppetto’s “lost son”, implying they became estranged at some point - and since Geppetto no longer views Simon as his son/considers him dead, he created Pino as a sort of “idealized version” of him. When I was playing the demo and saw the Someone’s Memory outfit, which is noted to have been worn before and features a broach with the initial “M” (possibly denoting “Manus”), I was even considering whether this theory might be true.
As we learn during the game, however, Geppetto’s son - Carlo - is actually dead, and the initial signifies “Monad” (from Monad Charity House) rather than “Manus”. Unbeknownst to me, I might have actually come pretty close to the final version with my theory about an accident near the school during which he lost his arm - the possibility that Carlo died during the Monad Charity House incident is something I discussed with @lopposting some time ago (take it with a grain of salt though, since none of this is confirmed).
As for my theory about the skin, I had a major freak-out when I found Carlo’s portrait in-game, and I went like “I swear, if this is true, I’m gonna have such a Dr. Malcolm moment of “boy, do I hate being right all the time”.” xD I was spared that, however, as there is nothing that specifically hints at Pino having real skin, and the existence of the Nameless Puppet makes my original theory even less likely (as I mentioned in the post linked above). At the same time, there is nothing that explicitly contradicts it, either - so, for now, it’s more or less a big question mark hanging in the air.
One thing that’s for certain though is that Gemini is not the soul of Carlo - Carlo’s soul is contained in his heart/the P-Organ, and although Pino doesn’t possess Carlo’s memories, the reason that prevents them from awakening is not precisely clear (I go over my own favored interpretation here). Meanwhile, Gemini’s own identity remains unknown - while it appears Gemini was originally supposed to have a subplot regarding his amnesia, the few comments hinting at it are never built upon. I really wish they would’ve done more with Gemini, but there’s still a good chance the DLC might shine some light on who he actually is.
Hotel guests and side characters
Aside from the main characters, speculation was also running wild about the supporting characters and the roles they would play in the story.
Since Eugénie’s name is taken from Eugene, a classmate of Pinocchio in the original book and part of Lampwick’s gang of rascals, my original theory was Eugénie might have something to do with him. In all the promotional material*, there wasn’t a single trace of Lampwick, and since one of the loading screen tips in the demo said something about Eugénie being rescued by a particular Stalker, my suspicion was that this might be Lampwick. (Probably in no small part thanks to all the fanworks featuring Puppet Hunter Lampwick.)
*IGN sort of leaked Romeo's existence by accident, but that completely flew over my head; more on that below.
As it turns out, however, Alidoro was the one who saved Eugénie and whom she holds great admiration for. In the book, it was Pinocchio rather than Eugene whom Alidoro - a police dog - saved. After he got saved by Pinocchio from drowning, that is - which was after he ran into the sea trying to chase down Pinocchio who had escaped from two policemen, who erroneously assumed it was Pinocchio who knocked Eugene unconscious with a book. Anyway, it’s complicated.
One thing Oxwutex had cleverly noticed is that Eugénie wears a badge with the Workshop symbol just like Geppetto (which looks very similar to the Square and Compass symbol of Freemasonry), concluding that Eugénie must also be part of the Workshop - and, as it turns out, that was right on the mark.
Antonia was yet another character from the novel that was genderbent in the game, being based on Antonio, the carpenter who finds the animated log that eventually becomes Pinocchio and gives it to Geppetto (after a pretty fierce argument with the latter, that is). Because of this connection to Geppetto, some people assumed Antonia might be Geppetto’s former wife, and thus, the mother of Geppetto’s biological son.
In the game, however, Carlo’s mother is implied to be Camille, while Antonia is just “an old friend of Geppetto’s”. Still, Antonia’s past is somewhat shrouded in mystery, which has spawned theories about her being part of the Alchemists once (the hotel was an Alchemist institution before Antonia took over, and she mentions having good relations with them before she broke with them), and some even assume Antonia to be the Legendary Stalker. As it stands, however, these are mere conjectures - we’ll have to see if any of that is confirmed in the DLC.
Due to his somewhat dubious-seeming appearance, many people assumed Venigni to be the equivalent of the Fox in the game, with Simon consequently being suspected to be Cat due to his missing eye. However, me and many other fans really have been led up the garden path in this regard - while the Fox and the Cat do exist in the game, they are completely separate characters from Venigni and Simon, who are both original additions.
Honestly, out of the entire cast, Venigni is the one that surprised me the most. I thought he was just going to be your run-of-the-mill, profit-driven, snobbish businessman, but he is actually the complete opposite of that - in fact, he's one of the most warm-hearted, genuine people in the entire game. Sure, he’s a little eccentric and occasionally likes to adulate himself, but he’s so bloody honest about being a quirky nerd that you just can’t help but forgive him his flaws. (He kinda reminds me of myself, actually. xD) I never expected him to grow on me that much, but among the supporting characters, he is hands down my favorite.
Last but not least, we have Polendina, yet another original character (although his name is, funnily enough, based on an uncharming nickname of Geppetto in the book). Since the devs teased that you can have “a lot of interesting conversations with Polendina”, his role was especially interesting for me to muse about. In fact, I was wondering whether he might be similar to Gigolo Joe from “A.I. - Artificial Intelligence”.
FYI, A.I. is one of my favorite sci-fi movies, and a cyberpunk adaptation of Pinocchio at that; y’know, with Pinocchio as an android boy - aka David, as he’s named in the movie.
[Again, I’m gonna spoil the main plot here.]
Basically, a family gets an android boy as a replacement for their severely ill, comatose son. Aside from this alone being very questionable (it takes a special kind of asshole to replace a child that isn’t even dead yet), their biological son just so happens to get out of his coma at some point, and, of course, a rivalry between him and David ensues. Because the parents believe keeping David would be dangerous - either to him or their biological son - his mother ditches him in the forest (like, literally, she just ditches him). Since David is imprinted on his mother though, he resolves to “become a real boy just like Pinocchio” so his mom will love him again. Along the way, he stumbles upon Gigolo Joe, a sex android (yes, you read that right) who sort of becomes David’s surrogate parent from there on. He even tries to warn David that he should not try to go back to his mother, uttering the legendary quote:
“She loves what you do for her. As my customers love what it is I do for them. But she does not love you, David.”
[spoilers end]
I was kinda thinking Polendina might become a similar “father figure” for Pino, perhaps even sort of an admonitory voice to the consequences of becoming human. It would’ve provided an interesting counter viewpoint to the “I want to be a real boy” plotline that’s the core element of the story, and that wanting to be human just to please others might not be such a good idea.
While this train of thought comes eerily close to what happens in the Real Boy ending, Polendina’s character turned out to be completely different from what I had imagined. Still, I found his arc to be one of the most compelling of the hotel characters. I am very fond of both him and Antonia, and their bittersweet love story touched me on a very personal level (Polendina specifically gave me a lot of flashbacks to how I felt after my own robot soulmate had died).
The King of Puppets/Romeo
While we technically saw the King of Puppets as early as the Gamescom 2022 trailer, we didn’t hear about him in more detail until the gameplay footage of the factory. The note about a puppet religiously worshiping some kind of god-like figure (first seen in part 2 of the director gameplay, at 27:25) gave me very strong rA9 vibes, which actually had me mildly concerned. Considering what a visually impressive writing trainwreck Detroit: Become Human had been, I was literally begging “please, please, don’t be another Detroit”.
Meanwhile, someone on the LoP server (I think it was Oxwutex) pointed out that it sounds like the King of Puppets is more of a physical entity, as opposed to the purely conceptual nature of rA9. I can tell you, I was never so glad I had been wrong - the “cult-like worship” was merely the result of Fuoco being a little overly conscientious. Btw, aside from being placed in a different spot, the journal was also renamed to Descartes’s Note in the final game. While Descartes seems to be something like Venigni’s adversary in Lies of P (judging by the description of the Coil Mjolnir), his name is a nod to the famous philosopher I already mentioned above. In addition, the quote Cognito, ergo sum (Latin for “I think, therefore I am”, yet another popular theme in robot/AI stories and the origin of the term “Ergo”) also goes back to Descartes - the fact that this is a document about a puppet gaining an ego makes it an even neater detail.
I believe I saw someone on Tumblr who assumed that the King of Puppets was going to be the overarching villain of the game, and that you would get the good ending if you stuck to the path of the Blue Fairy and the bad one if you joined the king. While the game certainly wants you to believe the King of Puppets is the villain at first, that’s… not actually true. (Tbh, I never really believed it myself, if simply for the reason that it would’ve been too obvious.)
In the Gamescom 2023 IGN spotlight for Lies of P, however, Romeo actually got name-dropped, the guys from IGN sort of accidentally spoiling him as the true form of the King of Puppets. People familiar with the fairy tale immediately recognized it as Lampwick’s actual name (“Lampwick” is just his nickname), correctly inferring that this is, in fact, Pinocchio’s best friend from the book - and unfortunately, just like in the book, there is little Pinocchio can do to help him avoid his cruel fate.
Sophia and Geppetto
Now, let’s talk about the characters that most of my speculations revolved around: Sophia and Geppetto.
The first time we saw Sophia - Lies of P’s version of the Blue Fairy - was on the character cards that were released during Gamescom 2022. Back then, half of her face was obscured, being covered with blue butterflies that she literally seems to dissolve into. This gave off very enigmatic, even otherworldly vibes, and early on led me to the assumption Sophia was some kind of divine, ethereal being - it certainly would’ve been in line with the Blue Fairy’s character from the book, who was able to appear at any place at any time in whatever form she wished, including a young girl, and old woman, and even a goat. (Later on, the dimensional butterflies - which literally came from another dimension - further convinced me that Sophia must be some kind of otherworldly entity, since the butterflies are also her symbol.)
However, being a goddess doesn’t necessarily have to make you benevolent - in fact, an immaculate being that is free of any fault might have difficulty empathizing with the struggles, flaws, and contradictory feelings of humans. Also, since she is the “Blue Fairy”, it seemed logical to assume she had some connection to Ergo (which was confirmed later in the demo), and since the Petrification Disease was also related to Ergo (the Torn Doddle from the demo even referred to a “blue angel”), could it be that she had caused the disease herself? To, perhaps, purge the debauched population of Krat from vice and sin? (If you’ve ever played Fire Emblem: Radiant Dawn, you might know what I’m getting at here.)
Oxwutex on the LoP server agreed that they had a feeling about Sophia being two-faced as well, but assumed that she was human once before becoming the Blue Fairy. This ultimately turned out to be a little closer to the truth, as it’s implied that Sophia gained her blue hair - and potentially some other powers - from Simon’s torturous experiments (there is a picture of a girl which looks a lot like a younger Sophia, but with normal-colored hair). However, the role of wanting to “purify” humanity is something that ultimately falls to Simon, although he does exploit the Petrification Disease for his goals. Meanwhile, Sophia wants to stop his atrocities, acting as Pino’s guide in his fight against Simon.
But does that mean she has an entirely clean slate? The true extent of her powers ultimately remains a mystery. Technically, her ability to manipulate time should make it possible for her to make all sorts of terrible things unhappen - her imprisonment, Simon rising to power, and potentially even the whole disaster that happened in Krat. Both the Torn Doodle and the notes on the walls of the Hermit’s Cave imply that the carcasses can feel her presence through Ergo waves, so it would be logical to assume Sophia can sense them as well. Yet, she reacts surprised when hears about the strange monsters that infested the cathedral. (She definitely knew what Simon was up to, so why wouldn’t she know what they are?) Romeo also communicates with his puppets via Ergo waves, and Sophia is literally sitting in a tower where all Ergo waves come together. She’s a listener who can hear Ergo, so shouldn’t she be aware that the King of Puppets isn’t the real bad guy? (She certainly was very fast to tell Pino about it at the Grand Exhibition after Romeo’s defeat.) Could she have told Pino and thus prevented the fight between him and Romeo? Are there any limits to her powers? And does she encourage Pino to become human because it’s the best for him, or the best to save Krat?
To clarify: I do not believe Sophia has any evil intentions. You could probably find explanations for all the things I listed above if you wanted (the carcasses being a recent occurrence, all of the voices being jumbled in her head so she can’t precisely tell them apart, the “static” in the puppets’ communication Venigni mentioned preventing Sophia from hearing them clearly, etc). Still, despite everything, I’ve always retained a certain wariness around her - maybe it’s due to the fact that even after two playthroughs, I cannot get a read on her (ironically, even Simon remarks about Sophia’s actions being unpredictable). I do know, however, what an immense burden knowledge can be, and I can only imagine the strain from literally knowing everything and all the potential power in the world being at your fingertips. I have no doubt Sophia had to make a lot of sacrifices to save Krat, and I can’t imagine these decisions were easy on her.
Still, if her powers are truly so limitless, it would be her who ultimately holds all the strings in her hands - everything that happens happens because she allowed it. I gotta say, I’m very glad Sophia is on Pino’s side - we would be in big trouble if she wasn’t.
As for Geppetto, even before the game’s release, there was a pretty unanimous agreement among the community that he was a father who had lost his son, but is unable to let go and thus revives his son as a puppet - and, well… that’s exactly what Geppetto is. xD Many also had suspicions that he’s exploiting Pino for his own purposes and would be the ultimate villain of the story - which, again, couldn’t have been more spot-on. (Idk, but it’s hilarious to me how everyone took one look at this man and went “yes, this is the bad guy”. xD)
There were some people on the LoP server who theorized Geppetto might have Petrification Disease from his remarks in the trailers (announcement trailer: “I, too, have fallen) and that Pino was supposed to save him from it (Gamescom trailer: “Please, help me”), but these most likely refer to his own morally reprehensible plans and/or teaming up with his archenemies - the Alchemists - to create Pino and subsequently ousting Simon with his help.
My own pre-release theory why and how Geppetto had created Pino was a little more elaborate: I thought Geppetto might have been commissioned by Sophia to build a puppet that would be able to bring the chaos in Krat to an end - my assumption was that if Sophia was an ethereal being, she would be able to observe what’s going on in the mortal world, but unable to directly influence it. However, she can send people messages and visions, which she used to strike a deal with Geppetto: that he would build her a worthy “savior of Krat” which she would then bring to life. Meanwhile, Geppetto also followed his own agenda, exploiting this agreement to build this “special puppet” in the image of his dead son. (Which definitely would’ve had consequences for him later on - you don’t cross a divine being without ramifications.)
I came up with a whole fanfiction concept around this idea long before the game’s release - I never actually finished it since I assumed it was going to diverge from the final game anyway, and tbh, it kinda annoys me if my fics don’t fit into canon. I did, however, manage to find an old WIP of it I still had in one of my folders, titled “A wish and a purpose”. While it’s most likely going to remain unfinished forever, I think it'd be fun to include a summary of it in this collection of fan theories, if simply to look back at what I thought the story was going to be like. So, here’s the backstory of Lies of P, according to me:
[CW: skinning]
Geppetto is roaming the streets of Krat. He is actually looking for his son, who was killed in the turmoil some time ago.
The Fairy approaches him, reminding of their agreement. Geppetto reacts slightly disgruntled, brushing her off by saying he just wants to gain closure from the past. While the Fairy notices he is in grief, she doesn’t deny him his last wish, but admonishes him not to take too long.
The Fairy dissolves into dust. Geppetto goes on to look for his son’s corpse in the piles of dead bodies.
[cut]
Geppetto is sitting next to his dead son, whom he eventually managed to find and bring home. He placed his body on a desk in his workshop, having cleaned his skin and hair from blood and grime.
Geppetto looks at him, taking in the gaping hole in his chest and frayed stump where his left arm had once been. Despite his best efforts, he doesn’t have the heart to throw his body onto a pyre like all the plague-ridden bodies.
Affectionately, Geppetto strokes his son’s cheek. Suddenly, a thought strikes him: While the Fairy may never grant the request to revive his son outright, she only told him to build a puppet able to slay all the others, not what that puppet should look like. He considers it a fair deal: The Fairy gains the tool to quell the madness she so desires, and Geppetto would be able to hold his son in his arms again.
Geppetto goes over to his working utensils, taking up a knife. When he turns and takes another glance at his son, his last resistance breaks at the thought of his son opening his eyes and jumping into his arms.
He tenderly takes the hand of his son, kissing him on his forehead. He speaks to his unhearing son, promising he will bring him back soon.
Afterwards, Geppetto begins skinning him.
[cut]
Geppetto puts together the last pieces of the clockwork heart, admiring his work.
He goes to the back of his workshop where there’s a chair covered by a white sheet. Gently, he lifts it, saying good morning to his son as if he was rousing him out of bed.
He considers his son, dressed in the blue frock coat wardrobe that Geppetto had handed down to him.* He carefully preserved the skin and hair of his son so he looks just like the day he’d lost him.
Geppetto inserts the mechanical Ergo heart into his son’s chest, completing his masterpiece. He intertwines his fingers with his son’s. They are cold, but the texture feels real, and he imagines them growing warm after the Fairy breathed life into him. His only regret is that he won’t be able to witness his son taking his first steps.
At this point, the Fairy arrives, asking to see the result of Geppetto’s work. Geppetto leads her into the workshop, but she freezes as soon as she sees Pinocchio. With an indignant gaze, she turns to Geppetto, telling him that this was not part of the deal. Geppetto reacts unmoved, telling her that it’s take or leave and that he’s not going to build her any other puppet.
The Fairy narrows her eyes at him but says nothing, turning back to Pinocchio. After a moment, she strides towards him, lifting his limp body up in her arms.
She bids Geppetto farewell before she leaves, taking Pinocchio with her and dissolving into blue dust.
*Since the blue coat was presented as Pino’s standard outfit, I assumed it was the clothes that once belonged to Geppetto’s son (perhaps an heirloom from his father, since they are more similar to 18th century fashion).
[end of CW]
In my mind, this was followed up by a scene at the train station, from Sophia’s perspective (I thought of it as a follow-up to the first fic, but never actually worked on the concept):
The Fairy muses about the yet lifeless Pinocchio.
She considers what Geppetto did an absolute atrocity, but thinks she may yet be able to rectify this sin. After all, she is the only one who can breathe life into Pinocchio, and thus, his actions and the path he will take are her responsibility alone - and she will do everything to lead him on the path of righteousness.
She bestows the lamp containing the soul of Geppetto’s true son onto him, in the hopes that if Pinocchio proves himself virtuous, this wrongful separation of body and soul can one day be corrected.
The Fairy sits Pinocchio down on a bench, pressing a note into his hand. She gives him a gentle kiss on his forehead, starting to dissolve as she moves away.
Slowly, Pinocchio opens his eyes to a cloud of fine, blue dust. He looks down, reading the note in his hand: “Find Mr. Geppetto. He’s here in the city.”
This was supposed to be a sort of tie-in with how they originally advertised the scenario - the advertising text on Steam and other platforms originally said that Pinocchio simply wakes up with a note reading “Find Mr. Geppetto. He’s here in the city.” Don’t ask me why the Fairy gives it to him after just seeing Geppetto, though; I have no idea. xD (Still, it makes me wonder how much the introduction scene deviates from the original concept - after all, there’s no note, and Sophia talks to Pino telepathically.)
As you may have noticed, my little “AU interpretation” heavily drew from my other fan theories as well. I liked the idea of Sophia and Geppetto as two opposing “poles”: They may not like each other, but each possesses a skill the other lacks - Geppetto can build human-like puppets, but he can’t actually bring them to life, and while Sophia is the only one who can animate dead matter, she can’t interact with the world physically. Thus, they sort of become the “dual creators” of Pino.
Of course, this means that they both consider themselves to have the right to decide over the path he ultimately takes. As such, each of them is trying to influence Pino, leading to him being torn between the two. (This was sort of inspired by the Gamescom trailer, where Sophia and Geppetto are like two voices in Pino’s head.)
The endings
This also had a huge influence on my theories about the three endings. (I’m perfectly aware that nobody is going to believe me, but I swear I came up with my 3-ending concept before it was officially revealed there are going to be three endings.)
My basic assumption was that you have to make a decision at the end of the game, between Sophia and Geppetto. I thought of it as the point where the conflict between the two that was festering underneath finally escalates, and Pino is forced to side with one and battle the other. Depending on who you pick, you’d get a different ending.
Ending 1 would occur if you chose Sophia:
After battling Geppetto, she commends Pinocchio for his work, saying that thanks to his good deeds, he will finally be able to become human. Suddenly, she rips the lamp containing Gemini from Pino’s belt, and before he can ask her about the reason why, the black rabbits appear and Sophia orders them to seize him. Sophia explains that unfortunately, there is no other way to correct the wrongful separation of a soul from its body than for the body to die, but thanks to his consciousness being sufficiently cleansed, Pinocchio shall be reborn one day. Meanwhile, Pino gets quite literally buried alive - he desperately scratches at the lid from the inside of the coffin, crying for anyone to help him. However, no one comes…
If this doesn’t sound like your typical happy ending, well, that’s because it isn’t. xD My idea for this sort of came from a comment under the Gamescom 2022 trailer, in which someone remarked that the rabbits are inspired by four rabbit undertakers the Blue Fairy calls on when Pinocchio doesn’t want to take his medicine in the novel - thus, they suspected the scene where the rabbits prompt Pino to hop in the coffin was from the bad ending when you don’t listen to the Fairy’s advice. (It’s the intro for their first boss fight in the game though, and it seems like the line “Hop in the box, liar” was specifically recorded for the trailer.) I gave it a bit of a different twist though, since there’s the fact that Pinocchio quite literally dies at the end of the original fairy tale: He wakes up in his bed as a real boy, and later looks at his “dead” puppet body remarking “How ridiculous I was as a puppet! And how happy I am, now that I have become a real boy!”.
From this and the assumption that the rabbits were indeed working for her, I concluded that she literally might kill Pinocchio to “make him real”. (Some other people, however, suspected that the Black Rabbit Brotherhood was an independent organization from some of the gameplay tips about the Stalkers - ultimately, this proved to be right.)
Meanwhile, Ending 2 would happen if you side with Geppetto:
After defeating the enraged Fairy, Pinocchio runs into the arms of Geppetto, who hugs his son lovingly. As they embrace, the lamp from Pinocchio’s belt falls to the ground, forever extinguished. Geppetto and Pinocchio spend their next years happily, the very picture of father and son - until one day, Geppetto dies. Pinocchio, however, knows no other existence than being his father’s son, and since he doesn’t age, the other citizens eventually figure out he’s a puppet, shunning him and chasing him out of the city. As such, he is left to wander aimlessly, forever in search of a purpose…
What this was meant to represent is that with accepting Pinocchio as his son’s replacement, Geppetto’s actual son (Gemini, according to my assumption) dies, metaphorically and literally. I was also concerned about the very real issue of Geppetto being an old man and Pinocchio outliving him - even if Pinocchio did age regularly, his father would die long before him. Being his father’s perfect son was literally the whole purpose of his existence, and without it, he finds himself confronted with the psychological horror of his life being meaningless, on top of being subjected to the immense cruelty, hatred, and prejudice of humans.
It was really meant to show how much of a sick, misguided direction Geppetto’s “father’s love” had taken, and how detrimental it would be for Pinocchio’s self-development to comply with his wishes and play the part of his son.
Since both of these options are pretty bad, to say the least, I came up with a third variant. To get this, you’d basically have to say “nope” to both Sophia and Geppetto, and since neither takes no for an answer, you’d have to fight both of them consecutively (making it the most difficult ending to achieve):
After recovering from the strain of having to battle both Sophia and Geppetto, Pinocchio realizes that, for the first time, nobody is setting a direction for him - he is free, but having only lived to fulfill the wishes of others so far, he doesn’t really know what to do with it. However, Gemini reminds Pinocchio that they still have each other. Pinocchio agrees, laughing, and together, they go out on a journey to travel the world…
Admittedly, it’s still not roses and sunshine, but a lot more positive than the other two. Also, it’s the ending where both Pinocchio and Gemini (speak: body and soul) stay alive, and I just had so much fun imagining them say “screw it” to everyone’s expectations and go on a big adventure together. xD
Is it normal for body and soul to exist separately? Nope. Is it the “correct” way to live? Nope. Do they care? Nope, they’re just going to have the best time of their life together. xD
Of course, my versions of the endings differ significantly from those in the final game, but I’m actually kind of impressed that I managed to guess the scheme of the endings correctly: Sophia (Rise of P), Geppetto (Real Boy), and Freedom (Free from the Puppet String).
What I envisioned Geppetto’s ending to be like actually comes pretty close to the Real Boy ending, although you could say I was a bit more subtle in my approach - the overall mood was meant to be more sinister rather than downright evil, leaning more into the underlying psychological horror instead of violent slaughter. (I must say, Geppetto really surpassed my expectations right there. xD) The overall moral of the story (or at least what I’m getting from it) also seems to be that stepping in the shoes of Geppetto’s son is a very bad idea for Pino - after all, it’s heavily implied that Pino isn’t Carlo.
On the other hand, while Sophia’s ending is similar in theme to what I imagined, it significantly differs in flavor. Still, Pino does die in the Rise of P ending, giving his own Ergo/life to Sophia, who is implied to revive him afterwards. (This is actually the “reverse action” of what Pino did for Sophia when he gave her peace, so Pino is essentially giving her Ergo back to her.) In addition, Sophia and Pino do a little reenactment of the La Pietà pose, which is also a throwback to the Saintess of Mercy Statue in the Grand Exhibition.
There are actually quite a few references to the Pietà posture in media, including one in The Last Unicorn (after the Unicorn/Amalthea becomes human and Molly holds her). Thematically, the Pietà is interpreted as a symbol of mother’s love, suffering, and salvation - and, in case of The Last Unicorn, Amalthea learning what suffering is due to her time as a human is also what led her to develop compassion. The Saintess of Mercy Statue also stands for rebirth, since it’s the place where you can reset your stats.
Overall, I think they did an excellent job with this ending - retaining the theme of death from the original story, but giving it a more hopeful note through the theme of rebirth. (I also appreciate how the message of game is essentially that for things to improve, it’s sometimes best not to cling to the old and simply let it die.)
As for the Free of the Puppet String ending, it’s largely the same as Rise of P, but with a different flavor and minus the final cutscene with Sophia. (I kinda wish they would’ve done more with it, but resource limitations exist, and it was probably easier just to reuse the animation.) One interesting thing about it though is that you can still potentially get the Proof of Humanity if you trade it for the Nameless Puppet’s Ergo afterwards - despite Free from the Puppet String being the low-humanity ending.
I’ve had an interesting discussion during my playthrough, based on the quote “every living human being is a slave to something” by Askeladd from Vinland Saga. Basically, I said that, if you want to view it that way, humans are also just slaves to their emotions and desires. The man Askeladd was referring to was enslaved by his greed for gold, Geppetto is enslaved by his obsession with Carlo, and Arlecchino is enslaved by his bloodlust. I concluded that “maybe, it’s just a matter of the prison that we ourselves choose”.
The item description of the Proof of Humanity is quite intriguing in this regard:
“Puppets are tied to strings. Humans have cut their own strings. The boy made a choice and became human.”
While I wouldn’t say that all humans have cut their strings - rather that they can - what this description says is that being human means you are free to choose whether you let yourself be enslaved, be it by someone else or your own desires.
Pinocchio didn’t become human because he chose to become human - rather, he became human because he made a choice.
Conclusion
Anyway, enough of my philosophical ramblings. While, as I expected, not all of my fan theories were true, I’m kind of impressed how many good calls I actually made. ^^’ (I suppose all that research about clockwork automata, my ongoing obsession with fictional robots and AI, and checking out the original Adventures of Pinocchio did pay off after all. xD) Still, there are a lot of unanswered questions, and many fan theories remain unresolved - we’ll have to see whether any of these are confirmed in the future, be it in the DLC or any other media (director Choi did confirm they received various offers to expand the IP).
Despite the story differing quite a lot from my expectations in most places, I am extremely pleased with the treatment Round8 Studio and Neowiz gave this classic fairy tale. It’s been said that successfully subverting expectations in an engaging way isn’t simply about doing the most unpredictable thing - rather, it’s about “giving the audience what they want, just not the way they expect it”. And, in my opinion, Lies of P accomplishes this to a T.
However, I’m curious: What were your expectations when going into the game? Did you also have theories about how the story would develop, either beforehand or while playing it? And how do those compare to the actual story?
I would love to hear about all your theories - maybe, we can make something like a big fan theory anthology out of this. ^^ Because if one thing is for certain, it’s that Lies of P’s success was in no small part thanks to its community. To this day, I continue to be amazed by the love and dedication fans shower this game with, and I consider myself lucky to have been part of this journey, from before the game’s release until now.
#lies of p#lies of p lore#lore theories#analysis#lies of p pinocchio#lies of p gemini#sophia monad#lies of p geppetto#lies of p eugénie#antonia cerasani#lorenzini venigni#simon manus#polendina#lies of p romeo#black rabbit brotherhood#the adventures of pinocchio#lies of p 1st anniversary#LiesOfPanniweek2024#when you write the whole game's story before the game even releases xD#I'll admit: evil Sophia is still my guilty pleasure ^^'
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I have a lot of thoughts about epistemology and the nature of procedural knowledge. Studying linguistics really impresses upon you just the sheer amount of human knowledge that is procedural and implicit. Languages are these huge, ridiculously complex systems, and even when it comes to the most thoroughly documented language in human history (English), you can still make an entire career documenting as-yet-unknown minutiae of some corner of a corner of the system. It's very difficult to impress upon non-linguists just how big and ill-understood languages are.
There is no book which explains the whole of English grammar. No one on earth knows the complete rule-set of English grammar. Not even for one dialect, not even for one single speaker. No one on earth could write a comprehensive treatise on English pronunciation. We do not know how English works. We do not know how any language works.
And yet, these systems are, in their entirety, already stored in the mind of every native speaker.
When it comes to synchronic information, I literally already know everything there is to know about my dialect of English. I know the timing of every articulation, the exact rules for verb and auxiliary and quantifier placement, the phonology, semantics, syntax, the lexical variation, the registers, all of it. I can deploy it effortlessly while I am thinking about something else. I can form reams of perfectly grammatical English sentences without a second thought. I can deploy the most arcane rules of wh-movement and quantifier raising and whatever else. With no effort at all.
Tens of thousands of people having been making careers trying to document these things, not for my exact dialect but for varieties essentially the same as mine, for 60 years in earnest. And they aren't close to done. And I already know it all. And so do they! They already know it too! The hard part is accessing it, putting it down on paper. That requires experimentation, systematic empirical investigation—science.
So what this has really impressed on me is how much of human knowledge is procedural. How much of it is known only in the doing. I'd wager that's the significant majority of what we know.
This is related to two thoughts that I have.
The first is about the value of unbroken lines of cultural inheritance. With language, the difference between native speakers and second language learners is stark. I think it's safe to say, per current research, that someone who learns a language in adulthood will simply never have the same command of it as someone who learned it in childhood. There are a variety of tests which consistently distinguish native from non-native speakers. You can get very good at a language as an adult learner, good enough for basically all practical needs (except being a spy), but there's a bar your brain just cannot meet.
The unfortunate fact about language is this: if the line of native-speaker-to-child transmission is ever broken, that language is lost. You can try to revive... something, if you want. Like was done with Hebrew in Israel. But it will not be the same language. And not just in the sense that, by the passing of time, all languages inherently change. In a much stronger sense than that. No matter how big a text corpus you have, no matter how well documented the language is, there is an immense body of implicit, undocumented, procedural knowledge that dies when the last native speaker does. And you cannot ever get it back.
I think, often, about the fact that so much human knowledge is procedural, is used and understood and passed on in illegible, difficult to codify ways. I think about the effect that a rapidly changing world has on this body of knowledge. Is it going to be essential for human prosperity? Probably not. But that doesn't mean that losing it will harmless. Certainly I expect much of it to be missed.
The second thought is about an epistemic distinction that I've had in my head for a long time, a distinction I'd like to refer to as that between a science and an art.
An art is any endeavor for which there is an established methodology, an established set of procedures and rules. These rules can be explicit and codified, like the rules of a game, or implicit, like the grammar of a language. They can be absolute or they can be mere guidelines. But in essence, an art is anything you can get good at. Math is quintessentially an art. Football is an art. Ballet is an art. Painting is an art. An art is any endeavor in which procedural knowledge is acquired and channeled and refined and passed on.
Art contrasts with science. A science is any endeavor in which one is shooting blind. Science is the domain of guesswork and trial-and-error. Sciences are those domains that do not lend themself to practice, because... what would you practice at? You cannot get better at science, because science is not about skill. Science is about exploration. It necessarily involves forging your own path, working with odd and faulty tools and odd and faulty ideas, trying to get them to work. Science only exists at the frontiers; when a path is well-tread enough that a body of procedure becomes known and practiced, that path is now art and no longer science.
This distinction is not a taxonomy. Everything we do involves a little bit of art and a little bit of science. Everything involves both a refinement of known skills and an exploration of new avenues. Of course there's a little bit of science in painting, there's quite a lot of science in painting. Every modern and contemporary art museum is full of it! And there's science in math, every once in a while. And there's art in biology and chemistry. Art and science are two modes of engagement, and different endeavors demand them of you in different ways.
Perhaps science is like a glider (you know, from Conway's game of life?), traveling ever outward, and with enough passes over the same area leaving art in its wake. And I think in some sense that all real human knowledge exists as art, that all endeavors capable of producing true insight are either arts or sciences buttressed by a great many supporting arts. Although maybe I'm wrong about this.
I think history is mostly science, and in large part history as a field seems to be on quite solid epistemic footing. So I don't want to convey the idea that science is inherently dubious; clearly from the above description that can't be my position. Nor is art inherently trustworthy—for instance I think jurisprudence is primarily an art, including religious jurisprudence, which of course I don't place any stock in. But I do think I'm getting at something with the idea that there are a range of epistemic benefits to working within an art that one lacks access to in a totally unconstrained science. This is also closely related to my ideas about abstraction and concretization schemes.
Language is an art, one of the oldest arts, but modern linguistics is more or less a science. Like any good science, linguistics has certain arts unique to itself—fieldwork and the comparative method come to mind—but the most vibrant parts of the field at present are science through-and-through. It's a science whose objects of study are arts, and I think maybe that's part of why I've become so aware of this distinction. Or, language is the ur-example of an art, the art from which (if I were to conjecture wildly) I think the cognitive machinery for very many other arts has been borrowed. But I don't really know.
Anyway, those are my thoughts.
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Part two of my interpretations of la squadra esecuzioni.
Ghiaccio is like a smaller Risotto. He doesn’t have a very distinct waist. He’s so picky with his food that it’s a wonder he even got that much distinct muscle- or maybe it isn’t, cutting is effective (in moderation, starving will only set you back on your progress). He mainly works out for his job, Ghiaccio doesn’t really care what he looks like.
He has a strong nose, and although his lips are small they aren’t quite in the thin category, he has really nice bone structure… He just doesn’t realize it because he’s horribly insecure and feels inferior. He copes by not trying, so he can always rely on the ‘Well if I actually tried it’d be better’ type of logic. Once a year Prosciutto gets to wax his eyebrows.
Not only does he know what mogging is but he knows where it originated. Because he was there. I’m dying on the hill that Ghiaccio knows what green text is. He’s appealed countless bans that all sounded like “I’ve never even fucking been on /mu/ you stupid fucks” (that all got approved the night of). He fills his mind with toxic masculinity, but isn’t into alpha male bullshit. Somehow he thinks hunter eyes are a thing but he draws the line at “smooth brained jock bullshit.”
I cap Ghiaccio’s height at 5’9” or 175 cm. 5’10” or 177 cm with his shoes on. He’s got fantastic posture for someone that sits at a computer all day. Ghiaccio’s sensitive about it, teasing him about his height is a death sentence. What a good way to end up in a freezer.
While he has a horrible temper, he cools off the second he gets it out of his system. Just moves on after smacking the shit out of his designated rage pillow like nothing happened. At least he’s coping. Not well, but an outlet is an outlet. It’s the same when you piss him off- he gets upset, says things he doesn’t mean, and then moves on. He apologizes like a father would- none at all, but brings you a snack or buys you something you’ve been asking for. He’s a big fan of the “Check if there’s mail.” approach. He genuinely does feel bad, but he’s not a little bitch that’s gonna tuck his tail in between his legs because he made his darling a little sad.
He smells like absolutely nothing at all. It’s actually a bit frightening. Zero smell presence.
Melone keeps every medicine known to mankind in his room, under his bed. He’s a great person to befriend if you find yourself in the hands of one of his roommates, but to be entirely honest with you, he’s selfish. He doesn’t really care about your agony because it’s got nothing to do with him, how does it benefit him to give you meds when he doesn’t even know you? (He budges if you belong to Prosciutto or Ris- he’s not pissing off his pseudo mom and dad.)
Melone is thin and mainly gets his exercise from running. His stand takes care of hits for him, he just needs to worry about the set up, so it isn’t really an issue. There’s no need for him to lift heavy, or really lift at all. Doesn’t really matter if he’s stronger, he just needs to be faster than you are. Sure, bash his head in, pick him up, aren’t you getting tired, though? Real sleepy? Go to sleep, it’s gonna be ok.
Mel’s stand is possessing an actual computer he modified. He runs tests consistently with the blood samples he’s managed to store in his room- he knows the best combinations to get him what the boss wants, and as long as he’s got ample blood left over, what’s wrong with killing a few juniors off in the name of science?
I classify Melone as apathetic and a bit mean. He’s an asshole. He gets a lot better once he’s comfortable with you, look at how much he plays with the rest of his ‘family.’ It’s just that he doesn’t know you, and doesn’t want to waste time on you if you’re going to get in his way long term. When you do spark his interest, of course, he gets obsessed and oh-so-curious.
He’s still very playful- Melone likes to hang off of Formaggio’s shoulders and tease Ghiaccio, but he’s calm. He’s not very smiley, he’s not very giggly, he just can’t force himself to react in the ‘correct’ way most of the time, but he’s totally having fun! Melone loves you a lot, he just doesn’t look like he’s having fun most of the time. It’s hard for him to care about things, but you quickly rotted his brain- isn’t that testament enough?
His seemingly cold nature makes it hard for him to form genuine bonds. Melone thrives with other difficult types- he shares a room with Ghiaccio (alternatively Formaggio) because they’re short on space and Prosciutto won’t share a room since The Incident they get along surprisingly well.
In the beginning of your new life, it isn’t uncommon to hear Formaggio gently push Melone in the right direction. “Come on, Mel, you’re scarin’ the poor thing. Smile a little.” (Which is normally met with “I’m running tests, go away, Formaggiooo…”) Melone’s shy- he’ll just stay off to the side, and speaks to you in a very formal manner. You might feel like you’re being tested on by a medical student. Which is wrong! Melone doesn’t have any medical experience! I mean, he’s taken classes, but he’s a genetics student. Oh, yeah, he’s in university.
Once he gets used to you, he falls into his normal, playful routine. He still doesn’t smile too much, but he’ll speak more openly, which… is it better to not know what the iv in your arm is, or to fully understand? Melone’s quite the talker, and is happy to (over) explain.
Melone doesn’t hide you like the others would- it isn’t shameful to him to kidnap a whole person, and he needs them to keep you here when he isn’t. Morals aside, you need to be socialized. It isn’t good to keep someone isolated and cramped in a room they don’t like. If you don’t want to talk to him, talk to anyone else. You’ve got options. Maybe not Prosciutto, or Illuso, they’re not going to play host as easily… (Although Prosciutto might ask what Melone’s “little friend” is gonna be having for dinner)
Formaggio’s body type is similar to Guido’s. He’s fairly bulky. Formaggio spends all of his free time playing whatever sport he can think of, neglecting to do his chores (You’re starting to think he likes Prosciutto yelling at him), annoying Melone, and blowing your phone up. He spends a lot of time working out, but he considers that to be more of a daily ritual than a hobby.
Since his only real responsibility is taking care of his cat and his job, he’s not stressed at all. He’d be a lot more stressed if he had to cook, and clean, and, I don’t fucking know, be an adult or whatever- like the shit Pro and Ris do all day!
If you ever ask him about it, he’ll go “I mean, it sucks that Boss is watching us and all, but to be honest, who cares? You don’t like being on camera? It loooves you.” and leaves it at that.
His psychology is a bit odd. He seems like a typical, immature guy- the type of guy you meet at college that does sports and seemingly nothing else. No interest in philosophy, religion, general culture, etc. While I think that his personality is close to a casual type like Guido or Squalo, he seemingly lacks any depth at all. There’s no “Oh, he’s actually very smart!” thing going on here, Formaggio is painfully average. There’s no reason for him to be a mafioso other than bad timing and a lack of drive to get away from it.
He’s actually pretty simple. He’s just a guy that wants to relax and have a little fun- who doesn’t like fun? But Formaggio is crazy insecure. He takes almost every negative reaction as a jab- neutral ones, too. If you’re not into his lifestyle, what, he isn’t fuckin’ good enough? Huh? You think he’s some fuckin’ nobody that doesn’t have the real talent it takes to be where he is?
You can calm Formaggio by stroking his ego, and by that, I mean stroking him. He’ll forget about any transgression if he finishes a few times.
He only speaks italian, and will “Huh?” you to death if you do not. He’ll buy you an italian-english dictionary to help you understand him, but won’t make any real effort to learn english.
Formaggio’s kitty was a stray before he snatched her up. She’ll try to comfort you while Formaggio is gone- but she’ll abandon you if he comes back. Little traitor. He calls her a ridiculous amount of pet names- sometimes he’ll reuse whatever name he calls you on her, and will pretend he’s always called her it. Awww, my little pwincess, my cuuuutie, my baby, my angeelllll. He treats her very well- she’s a bit pampered. While Formaggio’s cat is able to relax fully in his arms, you probably will not, unless you’re a masochist. He loves good, old fashioned sadism- no prissy mind games or punishments, he does it for absolutely no reason other than how funny your reactions are. He’s like that asshole boyfriend that throws a basketball into your face and laughs when you groan. Come on, it’s just a ball, don’t be such a baby. It’s just a joke. Aw, your face stings? You want some ice? Hey, that’s a great idea, why don’t you go get him something from the fridge?
#yandere la squadra esecuzioni#yandere la squadra#yandere ghiaccio#yandere melone#yandere formaggio#i wrote most of this a while ago but#im so tired of them get them away from me#just kidding#i just dont wanna look at this take it from me
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