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serenit-teas · 7 months

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This is the product of too much brainrot and an almost concerning level of needing to ramble.

Major spoilers for Lies of P under the cut!!

Okay but just imagine, someway somehow being young friends with Carlo, sweet and darling childhood friends. Being his partner in crime, an unwilling (so you say) accomplice to any mischievous schemes he's cooked up. Racing about the streets of Krat, dodging this way and that, weaving through the alleyways and corners with a second natured ease due to each and every prior antic you two have had.

I imagine that only after narrowly dodging the poor soul who gave chase to you both has finally given up, does Carlo turn to you, a cheeky but rosy grin thrown your way. You can only huff and turn your head, complaining at once again being dragged into another one of his hair brained plots. 'This is the final straw', you think to yourself, 'no more of these chases'. Always the voice of reason you called yourself, the only one who cares enough to keep the two of you out of scuffles and minimizing consequences. The other half of your duo would simply angle his brows, matched with a boyish smile, brown eyes warm, a teasing call of, 'Worry wart', aimed your way.

You'd stay firm in your silence.

Seconds of the silent treatment turns to minutes, and you truly could have lasted longer, but the floor is uncomfortable and your legs are going numb, and it certainly doesn't help that Carlo keeps shuffling around in the already cramped space. You know what he's doing, trying to goad you into breaking your 'punishment' and demanding he knock it off. It takes all you have not to heave a sigh. It truly makes you wonder how you've both become such good friends.

Finally having enough of your hiding spot and the scuffing of Carlo's shoes, you turn your head, relenting. And he's close. Far to close. Clearly he's never once heard of personal space, face in your personal bubble. A startled yelp is ripped from your lips and you scramble back, knocking your back into the wall.

He doesn't have the decency to even attempt to hide his snort of laughter.

A menace to the core, mischievous Carlo.

You want to be peeved, annoyed at his inability to take anything seriously. But you see the joy in his smile and hear the way his laugh rings loud and true, gaze fond and sweet directed your way and soon enough you're laughing as well, giggling and smiling. Stomach aching, 'It hurts' , echoing somewhere in your head. It doesn't matter though, not when your head feels light and your cheeks warm. Tears welling at the corners of your eyes as you gasp for breath.

It's a simple and sweet bond, crafted out of trust and comfort, familiarity and warmth.

The news of his death rattles something terrible in you. A hollow, numbing feeling pools, spreading like tar, thick and heavy in your body. Fog building in your head, an anchor on your tongue. He's died, and with that has taken something of yours with him. They call it 'mourning', you've learned, something people do when a great loss is suffered. Meant to process grief and what was taken far too early. To cope, live on despite.

Whispers of sympathy and prayers permeate the streets, details of the accident are few and talk of honoring his life are fewer. Carlo and his fate hang over the city of Krat.

Haunts you.

Far too young are you to feel such a cruel twist of fate, the unsettling truth of what happens to everyone and everything. Something changes, curdles in your chest when made way to grieve. He's left you behind with the knowledge of the irrefutable.

Hours turn to days which bleed into weeks, and soon tragedy is washed away with the rainstorms that berate the city. Between the haze in your mind and the bustling murmur of the crowded streets, it's a miracle that you hear the call of your name.

He approaches you in the streets little more than a month after the news broke out, a light spring in his step. For a corpse, he seems plenty lively. Bright grin plain as day on his face, freckled cheeks scrunching with that familiar mischief swimming in his blue eyes.

But Carlo is gone. Cold and dead, mourned and missed, and you don't know who this is. You look a little harder, gaze sharper.

Blue. Wrong. Fake.

Get away.

You reel back with your heart thumping wild, ignoring the confusion that shows on his face, tears forming with a barbed response on the tip of your tongue and an awful ringing buzzes in your ears. What a sick joke.

Eyes still glued to the stranger, you step back. Slow at first, timid and careful, all before bolting away, ears picking up on the squawk of surprise sounding behind you.

You don't know where you're going. There's no plan in escape, you just have to get away from whatever that was. You barely have it in you to call out apologies for the people you nearly bump into. Your legs carry you between tall buildings and hidden corners of the streets, ducking and weaving, narrowly avoiding clipping your shoulder on the hard stone and splintering wood. Before you know it, you recognize the similar darkened streets that you had used in your own escapes with Carlo so many times before.

This part of the city was always dim, secluded and safe, street lights had not yet been installed around these areas, much to the frustration of those who lived in these parts. It never took long for a blanket of darkness to fall over the buildings and homes when the sun began it's descent and shadows would set just right.

Heartbeat drumming in your ears and chest aching, you reach blindly, feeling for a wall to lean your weight on. Panting, hunched over and gulping air down like a fish desperate for water. Head numb and mind humming with exhaustion.

'What was that? Some elaborate scheme? A prank?'

Any further thoughts are halted when you notice the pounding of footsteps behind you. Calculated and heavy, he, it, knows where you are. Probably followed you the whole time.

It's close, and with dread making it's home in your veins do you realize that you've nowhere left to go, you've lead yourself to a complete dead end. That fake will round the corner any minute and you'll be a sitting duck.

The sound of footfalls slows the closer it gets, you'd almost call it hesitant if you weren't scared out of your wits. Steps echo between the corridor walls, that awful, full body shake inducing panic shoots through you once more, an ice cold fear nestling deep in your bones.

'Leave me alone. He's gone. Please stop.' Stress plucks at your fears like an instrument, each strum yanks at your heart, leaves you anxious and paralyzed.

Had your heart not been hammering in your chest and pulse thrumming in your fingertips, you'd probably feel much more self conscious about the whimper that leaves your lips, weak and pitiful. Loud. Palms fly to your mouth, your hands clamping tight with a sting. Eyes screwing shut in fear.

The steps halt altogether, the only sounds you can register is the beat of your heart and the shallow, rapid breaths leaving your lips. It's cramped and cold where you are, jagged stone digging into your back.

A few feet away you hear a breath catch in someone's throat, and like earlier, a call of your name, only this time it's said with as much tenderness as a lullaby. Gentle. Soothing. Your eyes twitch just for a moment. It's unfair, using Carlo's voice like that. You know if you look there will be no going back, no denying what's happening.

You hear the call of your name ring out one more time, small and fragile, and you open your eyes.

There he stands, confusion clear on his face, brows loosely raised and lips set into a small frown. Taking your subtle acknowledgment as encouragement it looks as if he intends to close the distance between you, though the hope is quickly dashed when he sees you scramble at his advance, pushing yourself as far as you can go into the corner furthest away from him. You remind him of a wounded animal, an uncomfortable feeling clambers in his chest at the thought and his frown deepens.

A different approach is what he goes for this time, slowly, at a snail's pace, does he reach his arm out. Even in your manic state you still manage to toss an incredulous look his way, taking every bit of his common sense and resolve to not laugh at the expression. He'll gladly take whatever he can get, he'd do anything to prevent that fearful gleam in your eyes, squash any chance of being the cause of it himself.

You both stay in this standstill for what feels to be an eternity, eyes locked and unwavering, waiting to see who will crack first. A genuine gasp leaves his lips when he sees you reach out, shaking fingertips lightly brushing against his own. This is your call, he will follow your lead in this dance.

Finally, you stand to your full height and at a much slower pace does he do the same, and then you're back to staring at him, eyes flicking about his person this way and that, analysing everything. Normally he'd say you're overreacting, call you a 'worrier ' and be done with it, but he knows better. You've changed, something has happened to you in his month's absence and he doesn't like it one bit, you stare at him like he's a stranger, ran as if he'd flashed a weapon from underneath his sleeve.

So wrapped up in his own thoughts, he barely catches what you've said to him, mind struggling to put the puzzle pieces together. Ever the merciful out of your duo, you repeat yourself,

"What are you?".

'Huh.'

(Basically!!!! What if Carlo still perished, and P was still built to replace him, and Geppetto, in a frantic and guilt ridden haze builds a new son at an astounding speed, and with using such a, uh, 'fresh' Ergo leads to P 'waking up' nearly instantaneously. So rather than being a puppet becoming human, P is a 'human' coming to terms with what he actually is.

This is all over the place, but I imagine Geppetto would keep P's interactions with others to a definitive minimum, if P ever asked about it Geppetto would chalk it all up to his son being weakened so severely by his accident that he would need near constant supervision to maintain his health. Tells P that Ergo is what is keeping him alive, it's why his eyes are now blue and how he can wield the weighty legion arm with such ease.

Only a trusted few are allowed to know of his existence. I mean? The entire city mourned his son, he can't exactly have an almost carbon copy strolling about the streets. Reader is probs not at the top of Geppetto's 'can tell list' lol. I'm fully leaning into the idea that Carlo/P snuck out and went absolutely wild looking their bud lmao. Poor fella doesn't know that visiting reader is gonna come with a side of confusion and an unwanted existential crisis/soul searching😔

And final thing! I have not finished Lies of P, nor have I even reached a single ending (but I'm making progress every day! <:) ), so I apologize if any details are choppy, confusing, or don't align with what is canon! I don't know how Carlo died, and I do not wish to be spoiled, this was just a fun sort of AU(?) thought that just kept snowballing ^^; Thank you everyone for your time, I sincerely hope this wasn't too much of a mess, and that it was at least an entertaining read! <:) )

#lies of p carlo #lies of p pinocchio #lies of p x reader #pinocchio x reader #writing post #augh goodness im so so scared to post this ^^;#i havent written in months and this is the most substantial thing ive posted on tumblr in YEARS #I need to steel myself ive been working on this thing since 2:06 pm yesterday and it is currently!!!! 4:56 am!!! girl get help!!!#writers i lomf yall so much how?? do you bring your thoughts and feelings and ideas into cohesive words i am asking for a friend #chels mumbles #chels writes #😳

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