#puppet documentation

[astxriai-png]

Puppet Pop-Thrus

[preservationofnormalcy]

ITEM FILE #2213

ITEM: "Glycon's Grove"

ITEM HISTORY: Broadcast from 1987-1996, Glycon's Grove was a children's puppet show that debuted on public television stations accessible in Nebraska, Kansas, Missouri, and Iowa. After three episodes, the anomalous properties of the show were confirmed, and access to public television wavelengths was restricted. An agreement with Glycon's Grove production team (Oddy See) and the Office was reached wherein Oddy See would receive funding and distribution through OPN-approved channels, while all scripts, dialogue, and visuals were sent to the Parafiction Department for approval and study. After a brief interruption, Glycon's Grove was then broadcast nationwide (and in Canada and Mexico through agreement with RCOE and SER) on thaumic wavelengths decryptable by "analog augury"-compatible television sets, cable TV packages catering to the extranormal community, and distributed via VHS consumer hardware.

Glycon's Grove centered around the adventures of the titular Glycon, referred to as a "snake" despite his crude sock-puppet appearance. Glycon, often the energetic but patient voice of reason, would counsel his friends during common children's show storylines of the time, teaching lessons such as manners, the importance of reading and creativity, and honesty. The idea of snakes as "important, friendly creatures" was a common recurring topic. The show took place in the Grove of Olympus, with the rest of the cast being more typically-constructed puppets of a minotaur, hydra, cyclops, aquatic creatures, and in later seasons, a large "Cerebus" requiring multiple puppeteers to operate. Every few episodes, one of "the gods" (played by one of the human puppeteers in costume) would enter the Grove and provide the cast with that episode's challenge or conundrum. "Dio" was portrayed by actor Kenneth Young as a "surfer dude" always holding a family-friendly can of grape soda. "Heff" (Baker) often cajoled the cast into trying his new inventions, while "Arty" (Brown) asked for help in locating her lost pets.

Numerous interviews and investigations conducted by the Office concluded that while each other puppet in the cast (a list in the image above) was credited to and clearly played and voiced by a human puppeteer, Glycon's puppeteer, if they existed, was never credited or seen at any point. When interviewed, other members of Oddy See insisted that Glycon was "just Glycon" and did not acknowledge any puppeteer. During studio tours, Glycon was observed to move around the studio in ways that would be challenging for a human-puppeted character, EG, in one room and suddenly another, manifesting on multiple parts of a sound stage in rapid succession, always behind a barrier that could have reasonably obscured a human puppeteer from any Office observer. Attempts to isolate all visual angles in a given room often failed, resulting in Glycon appearing from a loose ceiling panel or other improbable locations.

Glycon "himself" always agreed to interviews, providing they could be done on Oddy See studio property, citing his "bum leg" as an inability to leave the property. He was at once forthcoming and evasive, simply repeating that he was "a puppet" when asked about his state, and that he "needed a new gig" as one of the reasons he started Glycon's Grove. Interviewers commonly reported Glycon as "charming" or "funny".

Parafictional research into Glycon's Grove and similarities to a mytho-folkloric figure of the same name are ongoing to this day.

[blu3-j]

Welcome...Home..?

Overworked! Reader x Welcome Home Crew

Chapter 4

TW: Small breakdown (hinted at), character going nonverbal

I sincerely apologize for the delay of this chapter, fellow strangers! This chapter went through a lot of writing, revisions, edits, more writing, and more edits before finally making it here. But I finally have it done! I sincerely hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it! (Side note; I love the idea of all the characters giving the reader a nickname at some point that relates to them and how they see them in some form. It’s too adorable. I can’t resist it. I can now see Howdy calling the reader a nymph. It’s another name for larvae! Yes. Yes, I will now write Howdy calling the reader in any stories he’s in.)

Last we left off, Y/N had just gotten home from a busy day, and after a lot of emotions and events, began a trusting relationship with the crew of Welcome Home. One hurdle has been conquered, but there are still plenty more before our journey comes to a close.

Chapter 1 l Chapter 2 l Chapter 3 l Chapter 4

Groaning, you rose up from your spot. As you did so, your arm jolted forward to catch the warm blanket that fell from its precarious position on you. At first, the blanket wasn’t familiar. This isn’t the blanket you keep on your bed. Curiously, you looked up to find an unfamiliar sight waiting for you. The birds outside chirped their worries away as the sun began to rise and paint everything in a golden glow. The house was peaceful and still, like an old grainy photo hanging in an equally old and yellowed window. And sat in the middle of the living room was you.

Why were you sleeping in the living room? 

The events from the day previous flooded your memories. Your head darted around, desperate to see if maybe it had all been a dream. It must've been...right? You wanted to believe it had all been a dream, that you wouldn't have to worry about any of the problems that came with this. That maybe that night you fell asleep watching that show you just dreamed it all---and maybe hallucinated the small yellow puppet talking to you from just being that exhausted.

But in the end, you couldn't deny what was in front of you.

There the puppet cast was---sprawled along various places in the room. Across the ground, in chairs, and even on the couch next to you. Some even piled on top of each other, even when there was space for them all to have their own spots. All fast asleep.

Confetti was strewn across the floor and on furniture, paper straps and ribbons to games you had long since forgotten the rules of lay wherever there was room, and fake swords and feathers you had never got to see used rested haphazardly on the nearby coffee table. Looking back up, you saw the banners and balloons still hung from the ceiling. To you, it was quite a sight to behold. And even more strange and unfamiliar when you haven't had a mess like this since your high school graduation party all those years ago. Or had anyone else in your house like this since your moving in celebration, which ended up in a sleepover with your friends. You had almost forgotten what it was like to have company around.

Coming back to the present, it occurred to you just how cartoon-like and comically this cast was. Barnaby and Julie snored louder than a whale, and Wally....could you even call that snoring? You watched him as he lay curled up on Barnaby's chest, his face buried in the blue spotted fur, mumbling away a mantra over and over and over again.

"I'm sleeping...I'm sleeping...I'm sleeping..."

It was a wonder how the others slept with the noise, and even more of a wonder how you slept with all the noise. You were usually a light sleeper due to your schedule, but unlike then, this time appeared to be an exception. You didn't even wake up to your alarm. Wait...what happened to your alarm? Did you sleep in?

...

Sleep in?! Your hand desperately searched around for your phone. When you didn't feel that familiar rectangular gadget by your side, you jolted up from your spot. Finally turning back to the spot you were previously sleeping, your body froze. Now with a better view of where you slept, you realized who you had been sleeping on. Originally unbeknownst to you, you had been curled up in Howdy's arms as he laid against the arm of the couch, the both of you dozing away without a care in the world. As it turned out, he was the comfy cushion you had passed out on.

He groaned as he began to stir from the sudden jerky movement, and he opened his eyes. His drowsy gaze met yours, and for a moment the two of you just stared at each other. You, with no clue as to how to react, and him…most probably still registering what’s going on. Outside, the birds continued chirping away their cheery song. A small lazy grin crept onto his face.

"Howdy, there. How'd you sleep, kiddo? You passed out during Sally's play last night." He adjusted himself to sit up more as he spoke in a hushed voice. "You looked so peaceful and I know how busy you are, I just couldn't bring myself to wake ya up." Your voice was caught in your mouth. You're talking to a puppet. Again. It's actually real. A living---maybe not so much breathing---but living puppet. And you just woke up from sleeping wrapped up in his arms, no less. He was still a complete stranger to you, and acting so casual with him despite the recent events was something you could not handle.

Still, you couldn’t ignore his expectant stare. It came out small and late, but he remained quiet for your answer. "...It was..okay." Your hands absentmindedly fiddled with each other, and you turned your gaze away as you corrected yourself. "Actually, it was the best sleep I've had in a long while. Too long." A chuckle slipped its way past your lips.

Your breath hitched. "Oh, no!" Adrenaline shot through you. Howdy flinched at your shrill exclamation—as did you, and the two of you froze. A loud snore from Julie echoed throughout the room, and you recalled how comically loud a few of your other “guests” were. If they could sleep through that, then they could sleep through just about anything. The two of you let out a relieved breath.

"I gotta find my phone! What time is it?! How long did I sleep in? What day is it?!" You rambled incoherently—your voice much more soft than before—as you searched the couch more thoroughly for that little precious device of yours. The green caterpillar snorted, bringing one hand up to his head and another to his mouth to stifle his giddy giggles.

After he managed to hold his laughter at bay, he talked once more. "It's Wednesday. Don't worry, kiddo. According to your calendar over there---" He pointed to the familiar paper calendar hung on the wall. "You don't have to worry about work today. Or any of your classes." A green hand patted onto your shoulder. "You have the day off!"

Another hand dug into one of the pockets of his apron and out he pulled your phone. He held it awkwardly in his hand in an attempt to mimic how he had seen you hold the device. It looked tiny caressed in his hand compared to how it looked in yours.

"It took a while of trying to figure out how to use this silly thing, but I turned off that doggoned alarm. Every busy bee needs their sleep every once and a while, after all!" His smile twitched to a frown as he stared deeply at it. "What is it, anyway? I never did ask. Is it some futuristic alarm clock or something? Why do you take it with you everywhere you go? And where are all the buttons? Shouldn't something like this need a buncha buttons? How did you make it so it works with just touching the glass here?" He tapped the phone and the screen came to life.

You were forced back to your nostalgic memories upon seeing the lockscreen. Displayed was an old memory of you and your friends not too long after your high school graduation. All of you were grouped together in a booth, laughing the night away at a karaoke restaurant. Things were so much more simple then. And a lot less lonely.

Above it was the clock, harshly contrasting in color to the photo. It read 8:23 AM. Below it sat a single unbothered notification.

"Day off!!" It read. He was right. You let out an exasperated sigh as your body eased and—without realizing just how relieving this knowledge was to you—plopped down harshly on the couch next to him. He softly chuckled as one arm of his leaned back on the arm of the couch.

"I know that look!" The tall puppet ruffled your hair. "Before I owned the Bugdega, I used to work a lot at a job I hated. Extreme word, but it’s true! You should take this day to just cool that jet of yours. You'll break down if you overwork yourself, nymph!" His eye caught yours, and the two of you shared a small smile in the peaceful moment. Before any more conversation could be had, however, a small movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention. Wally was now wide awake and peacefully watching the two of you talk.

Howdy waved and quietly called out to the little yellow puppet. "Howdy, shrimp!" The blue haired puppet remained quiet, only widening his permanent smile and waving back for a moment before shuffling himself off of the large sleeping dog. Mesmerized by his form, you watched as he moved and carefully made his way over to the two of you. Carefully, he tip-toed in between each colorful member of the cast on the floor, only stopping by Julie for a moment to dodge her arm she roughly threw to the side as she dozed away.

It was simple movements, and exactly like a regular human's, but something about it was...off. Perhaps it was just the knowledge of knowing he's a puppet and shouldn't be moving at all, but something about him felt....unnerving, in a way. You brushed the thought to the side. Maybe that's a thought for another time.

Wally crawled up on the couch next to you and into your lap. As always. But you didn’t push him away. In a strange way, it comforted you. The tension that had slowly been digging itself deep into your core melted away like snow on a warm sunny day. Your inner child pleaded to hold him dear, but you refused. It was a hard fight, but you managed to resist the urge.

Howdy watched the two of you, a gentle grin on his face, before he lifted himself up from his seat and walked around the couch. You glimpsed at him and jumped when you saw him looking and motioning you to follow. You glanced between the two puppets, unsure, before quickly picking Wally up like he was a toddler and carrying him with you and obeying the insect puppet’s wishes.

Wally, of course, quickly fell limp in your arms. You recalled his attempt to comfort you last night, and it occurred to you that this was most probably another thing he didn’t know how to really…react to. One awkward pause later, he leaned against your shoulder and buried his face in the crook of your neck. Instinctively, you gave in to that inner child that pleaded for a connection, and nudged your head against his.

Howdy led you to the kitchen where he began rummaging through the cabinets. Now away from the rest of the colorful puppets sleeping away, his voice became a lot louder and clearer from his previous mumbling."This is a nice place you got, nymph." He bent down to a cabinet and began shuffling through it, only finding pots and his laughter echoing back to him. "I'm still having trouble finding everything, though! Where do you keep your pans? This place is like a maze!"

The two of you talked the morning away as you directed him to the right cabinets for everything he needed. Slowly, one by one, the other puppets awoke and walked in, each joining your conversation. Some chose to seat themselves at the table while others opted in aiding Howdy in cooking breakfast.

Sally was the first to walk in. She was cheery and energetic, and each step of hers had a bounce in it. For a moment, you almost thought she was quite literally glowing. But the allusion dashed away as soon and fast as it had made itself evident. The little starlet chose to occasionally aid Howdy when requested while she recited and re-enacted scenes to numerous plays she had starred in. Most of it was nothing more than dramatic improvisation, but you couldn’t resist applauding her and watching her eyes light up every time you did.

Barnaby and Poppy were the next ones to walk in. Both were generally drowsy and calm, quietly jabbering away as they walked in. Poppy clamored if everything was okay from all the racket she had heard, but Barnaby assured her and joked about how loud Sally was being. After her worries had been quelled, Poppy stationed herself next to Howdy to converse and help cook when she wasn’t too scared to do so. Meanwhile, Barnaby gladly seated himself next to you and Wally at the table.

Finally, Julie skipped into the kitchen, holding the hand of a drowsy Frank holding the hand of an upbeat Eddie. The trio questioned the commotion, but quickly seated themselves at the table and joined in the ever growing conversation upon seeing the six of you joyfully conversing.

For a while, you all acted as though there was nothing wrong. Like you had all known each other for months and everything had already been resolved. But tension remained. And finally, when the conversation died down and came to a pause, Poppy spoke up.

"So..." She hesitated, glancing to you for help. The large bird curled a little in on herself and hid herself with her wings. "What do we do now?" The others murmured. The tension was much thicker than before. You furrowed your brows and looked down. Wally was still in your lap. His expression remained the same, but he was silent. His gaze followed the others to you.

Over the past two days, you noticed something about the puppets. Something so extremely small, but made a mountain of a difference in the way you saw the colorful cast.

When looking at something, the puppets' pupils never twitched back and forth like humans'. Theirs never moved subconsciously to take in as much information they could like yours. This was the first time you noticed Wally's was.

A small part of you wanted to panic and run away again. A large part, actually. You had as much of a clue of what to do as they did. But just as you almost gave in, bright pink fabric in the corner of your eye caught your attention. The fabric of her dress.

"Then I'll be brave with you."

You promised.

You're going to be brave.

You swallowed the urge down as far as you could. "I'm...not sure," You started. "I mean, we all already established you'll be living here until you can find a way to...." Your voice drifted off.

Eddie piped up. "Home."

"Home, right." You turned your attention to a topic a little less stressful, opting for casual conversation to stall you time to think. "Wait, is that what you call that place? It's just...Home?" Julie jumped up, her expression relaxing a moment.

"Yeah! Oh, that's right. You haven't met Home yet."

Watching your eyebrow furrow, Sally joined in. "Home's a living house! That's where Wally lives." She hummed to herself. "I wonder why Home isn't here. Are they still in the neighborhood?" Her gaze wandered to a few of the others, each shrugging in response. Frank stepped forward as he adjusted his bright yellow bowtie. You quickly turned your attention back to him after brushing off seeing the bowtie flutter in a strange movement. That’s a thought for later.

"I've been doing research on this strange world," Frank began. His unibrow furrowed further as he slowly spoke, his tone growing in intensity with every word. "...And so far..I have no idea how we could've gotten here. There's no record of these things happening before!” His hands curled into fists. He stammered further and further with every sentence, his pupils twitching back and forth towards nowhere in particular. “Which..is preposterous! We couldn't have been the first instance of this happening!" He stomped his foot down as his face grew red, and much to your surprise, his head spun. Spinning…spinning..and stopping when Eddie lightly grasped onto it and held it in place. Frank sighed and glanced at the mailman before continuing. "I'm sorry, Dear, it's just---" His brow furrowed as his face grew red again. "I just don't get it! How could we be the only ones for this to happen to?! I-I don't---" he paused again as his glare turned towards the ground. His voice turned quiet as a few strands of hair drooped in his face. The harsh shadows kept you from seeing his face. "I don't understand. I don't know how to get us back to Home." Things were quiet as Eddie turned him around and hugged him close. Frank didn't hug him back. Just kept silent.

Glancing at the others, you found one by one, they all looked back to you. There were no more smiles. No more laughter.

You couldn't tell what they were thinking by looking in their eyes. But you could tell they were lost. Lost and scared.

…Just as much as you.

So you inhaled a sharp breath, and pulled yourself together. "Alright," You started. Peering over to the bright-eyed girl, you watched a small glimmer return to her eyes. "I don't know what to do either." Your gaze connected with each puppets' as it wandered over the group. "But that doesn't mean we can't throw ideas until one sticks!" A small twinge began to form in your stomach, but you continued. "We're all lost…a-and confused, and scared. But we're not alone." Finally, you looked back to Wally. "We're in this together." Determination inflamed you. "And if there's anything I know, it's that if there's a way something can happen, then darn it, there's a way to undo it! I don't know how...but I'll help you find a way home."

"To Home." Frank mumbled into Eddie's shoulder. Your mouth twitched up at his response.

"That's the spirit!" A small round of chuckles came around the group of puppets. “We’ll start throwing ideas and making investigations soon, but first, we need to take some time to get ourselves calmed down. A panicking mind isn’t the best for getting out of bad situations.”

A clacking sound caught your attention. Eggs and hashbrowns---organized in a way the eggs formed eyes and the hashbrowns a smile. Peering back up, you saw Howdy.

"You sure know how to bring people up, kiddo." He ruffled your hair before turning to the rest of the puppets. "I've got breakfast fixed up for you all, so you better come get your fixing before it gets cold! Like Y/N said, we'll get this figured out, but first we have to take care of ourselves!" The cast cheered and grouped around the counter Howdy had set with various cooked foods. You watched them with curiosity as they gabbed away and piled food on their plates.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar blue hair strand, and looked down. Wally hadn't moved from his spot. Rather, he watched the crew with you. "Are you going to get some?" You questioned him. His eyes met yours, half-lidded as always, and his stare unchanging and unmoving. It was quiet as you waited for his response. Distantly, a small tik-tik-tik was heard.

"Okay." He hopped off your lap and walked over. The others quickly noticed him and helped him grab a plate.

Things were back to how they were before the topic changed. And once again as you watched the group, you felt a small pang.

You were so different. And in those differences, alone. Just like always. You decided to push that feeling down.

Now's not the time.

You sighed as you turned back to your plate.

Now...how in the world were you going to get them back to Home?

[xbraveheartx]

Just full of ✨ Thoughts ✨ over the development and progress from when you start the game to when you finish on how P/Carlo just evolves, and kinda just thinking on some internal stuff on how I would like to write him.

How you start and he's just P, he doesn't know his purpose, he just knows he's being called somewhere. Lost, alone, faced with peril and made to fight when he hasn't even stepped out of his "birth place". He wakes up and he's just handed a sword. And he fights. At the start he's very much this empty slate; A newborn stumbling through Krat, and despite the man who calls himself himself father saying stuff like "Krat isn't how you remember it--" He really doesn't 'remember' anything at all. What is there to 'remember', he wonders?

And then he starts to get the memories-- they're not his but also... they are? They feel so close and yet so far away; Foreign and yet familiar. And then he hears a name whispered: Carlo-- and his whole world shifts right from under him. He feels sick, the name makes his head spin. The voice to have said it makes his head spin all the more. And bit by bit. He remembers. Not all of it, but... he remembers enough.

And he's hurt by what he remembers.

But by the end of it, after he claims his own freedom, after everything is resolved, and he returns to the hotel, he doesn't feel fully like Carlo-- doesn't feel at all like "P", either. He woke up not too long ago, and suddenly his life is flipped in its entirety. He's neither, and yet he's both. He doesn't know who he is anymore, but the name sticks. It's all he has left, even if a part of him feels some strange form of imposter syndrome, somewhere deep down... But he doesn't like being referred to as Geppetto's Puppet, either. He's not a puppet, not anymore. He's human, albeit, a different kind of human.

So just Carlo, is fine with him, even if he's changed far beyond of who-- and what-- Carlo was.

'--an Ergo puppet can have a second life and become another kind of human--' He just needed now to decide just what that second life meant for him, now.

[ardenwritesegos]

Starlight

Warning: Verbal abuse

Another day, another bout of chaos. Dark should know to expect nothing less from the Ipliers. All the more reason for a daily evaluation. If he didn’t, the mansion would likely burst into flames. Hell, it nearly did at one point. Damn Wilford and his ability to summon flame throwers at will. No matter. There were far more important things to dwell on. Or rather, far more important people. 

The being continued through the halls of the manor, entering room after room. The Googles were searching their online systems for useful information. Dr. Iplier was organizing yet another stack of files detailing the egos’ medical accidents. Everything seemed to be in order. At least, for the time being. 

The creature was soon finished with his inspection, moseying down the hall to his office. As they did, however, one of the doors opened. Someone exited from it in a rush. Eric Derekson. The shy Iplier held a stack of paper tightly in his arms, muttering something to himself. In his hurry, Eric practically rammed into Dark. The documents flew out of his hold, scattering in different directions. As Derekson looked up, the being could see the terror in his face.

“I’m-I’m sorry!” Eric stuttered quickly. 

“I was trying to memorize my script for today, and–” 

“Stop,” Dark interrupted, attempting to be as calm as possible.

Typically, the being would have no issue striking fear into the egos to keep them in line. This one, however, wasn’t like the others. 

Derekson did not contain the outward confidence or fearlessness of an Iplier. He was fragile as an egg, flinching at the slightest sound. The ego could barely speak without questioning every word. It was almost a saddening sight. Almost. “No harm has been done,” the being reassured Eric. The mist of their aura picked up Eric’s papers, handing the stack to Derekson. “You should find them in order,” Dark explained as the other checked his documents. The shy Iplier looked on in confusion, not seeming to expect the kindness. Dark couldn’t blame him. Not with the demon’s reputation in the manor. 

“Th-Thank you,” Eric said quietly, a bit calmer. 

“You’re welcome,” the creature responded. “Now, go. Derek is surely waiting for you.”

“Yeah...right,” Derekson ran along to his errand. Dark couldn’t help but notice an extra shakiness from Eric at the mention of his father. Something about that was all too familiar to the being.

My Starlight

They shook it off, returning to his room. It wasn’t their problem to solve.

[Meanwhile]

The creature sat at their desk, sorting another week’s worth of incidents from Dr. Iplier. As usual, it was a mountainous pile. However, Dark didn’t find it to be too much. He could get through papers like this rather quickly, after all. Before Dark could continue, he was interrupted by yelling that boomed from across the hall. The being knew all too well where it was coming from. They made their way across the hall, stopping midway at a door. On it was a poorly-constructed sign, reading Derekson Studio. Screaming continued from behind the door. Dark focused, until they could see the inside.

“I don’t get what’s so hard about this!” Derek boomed at the timid ego. 

“All ya gotta do is say some lines for stuff that practically sells itself,” he said matter-of-factly, as if it were that simple for everyone. 

“What dontcha understand?!”

“I-I-I,” Eric stuttered, shaking harder than a leaf. “M-Maybe I’m just not-just not cut out for this,” he began to fidget with the orange towel in his hand. Derekson always seemed to have that cloth near him. None of the others ever knew why, nor did they care enough to ask. “ If you asked my brothers, they-they’d say the same thing,” Eric added. “Merrick would–”

“You think I don’t know that?!” Derek interrupted, instantly silencing his son. “You think I wouldn’t rather have Merrick do this?!” he boomed. “But he ain’t here, so you’re the only option I got!” Eric cowered more with each word. “So just get up there and get it together!” At those words, Dark was sent into one of the soul’s memories. 

A little boy was with his father, practicing for a speech, his first as class president. Like Eric, the child struggled to get the words out. For every mistake, his dad forced him to start over. The father quickly became more aggravated with each stutter or lengthy pause. 

“Get it together, boy!” the parent barked. “How are you going to be a politician if you can’t speak to a crowd?!” the boy had previously voiced his desire to be a leader of some kind. He wanted to help people in any way he could. In his mind, politics seemed like the best way to do that. At the time, however, he felt as if he wasn’t cut out for it. 

“B-but, everyone will be staring at me,” the child stammered, hands restless in their folded position. 

“That’s the point!” the man’s voice could be heard throughout the house. Maybe even the neighborhood. Regardless, the boy knew nobody would say a word. The man of the house had to keep order, after all. “What about that do you not understand?!”

“I understand, but–” the child mumbled, on the verge of tears. 

“Then act like it and say the damned words!” the father swore.

With a shake of their head, Dark was brought back to reality. Noise like that could not be tolerated. It was a distraction that could lead the entire manor off-track. He opened the door, immediately silencing Derek. The man may have been too stubborn for his own good, but he wasn’t stupid. He knew very well that this being was not to be messed with. 

“Hello, Derekson,” Dark greeted the father with his usual cold indifference. 

“Uh…hello there, boss,” one could practically see the sweat dripping off the salesman. 

“What brings you here?” 

“You have caused a bit of noise, Derek,” the creature folded their arms behind their back. 

“S-so sorry, sir,” the father apologized. “I was just,uh, trying to motivate my son, here,” he put an arm on Eric’s shoulder, causing the boy to flinch.

“I highly doubt that shouting is adequate motivation,” they said, matter-of-factly. 

“Well actually, it works quite well for–”

“Could you leave the room for a moment?” Dark asked, interrupting Derek.

“What?” Derek responded, face freezing in confusion. 

“I would like to speak with Eric, alone,” the being ordered calmly, yet somehow also firmly.

“But sir, he doesn’t do good on his own,” Derek protested, clearly trying hard not to burst out in anger. 

“He will not be by himself, Derek,” Dark reassured, voice still emotionless. “Now, run along,” the creature ordered. “A new shipment was warped in for you.” 

“Uh…Yes sir,” the father said after several moments of hesitation. As the door clicked shut, Dark made their way towards the boy. He remained in front of the green screen, shaking like a leaf, sure that he was in trouble. The being stopped in front of him. 

“You are not in trouble, Eric,” the creature reassured, able to hear Derekson’s thoughts. 

“I’m-I’m not?” he asked, as if he wasn’t used to such a statement. Dark feels a tugging in his chest at that.

“Derek was the cause of that...noise, not you,” they sighed, careful with their choice of words. The boy was already overwhelmed. He didn’t need to magnify the situation.

“But…he did that because of me,” Eric looked down in shame, hands repeatedly wringing around his orange cloth. Dark could see tears starting to form in the boy’s eyes. “If I hadn’t m-messed up my lines, he would-wouldn’t have had to–”

“You didn’t make him do anything,” the being blurted out, no control over their words. They wanted to move away, but found their aura keeping them in place. While they couldn’t see the color of it, they could tell which one it was. Dammit! Fully under the blue soul’s control, the being put their arms around Derekson. The blue soul then pushed a calming aura into Eric. All at once, the boy’s tension disappeared. His muscles eased. The mental swarming in his head went silent, allowing him to, for once in his life, think clearly. Eric returned the hug, wrapping the creature in a nearly choking embrace. He looked up at Dark.

“Why…” Derekson paused, sniffling away the remains of his tears. “Why does he hate me?” The blue soul remembered asking that exact question. 

A young boy clings to his mother, crying his little eyes out. Father is not around, so he can do so without getting disciplined. 

“Mother, why does he hate me?!” the child choked out. 

“Because he is a fool, starlight,” the woman, the boy’s mother, replied softly. “Anyone would be well-off knowing you,” she rubbed soothing circles into the boy's back. 

“But…he says I cry too much,” the boy weakly argued.

“Because he has the emotions of a doll,” the mother scoffed. Her warm gaze remained directly on her son. “You, my dear, are a wonder.” 

“Because he has the empathy of a mannequin,” the being responded, answer still out of his control.  

“It’s-it’s not his fault, though,” Eric stumbled out. “I mean, everyone else died-”

“That is no excuse for a man to treat his child like that,” the blue soul interrupted. The blue in his aura grew brighter with every second of rage. “His only remaining child, no less…” the soul took a calming breath, trying again to keep his composure in front of the already overwhelmed boy. Eventually, his light was no longer blinding. Regardless, it remained lit like a halo; a comforting, guiding light. Eric couldn’t help but stare. In that gaze, the soul saw the innocence of his past. The kindness. The plea for someone to listen. 

The weakness. 

The soul’s control was ripped from him in an instant. Dark blinked hard, blue outline once again blending with red and gray. The creature quickly but gently removed their arms from Eric, moving them behind their back.

“I will speak to Derek about his…” Dark paused, searching for a careful word. 

“Behavior. Mistreatment of employees, related or otherwise, will not be tolerated in this manor,” The being walked towards the door, but stopped before turning the knob. 

“And Eric,” Dark turns slightly to look at Derekson. 

“Yeah?” Eric forced the word out of his mouth. This Dark was drastically different from the Dark of moments ago. 

“If you should need advice on public speech, I have prior experience that could be to your benefit,” Dark suggested. 

“But be sure to advise me beforehand.” 

“Really? Uh, thanks,” Eric wrung the fabric in his hand like he was getting water out. This time, however, it wasn’t completely out of nerves. With that, the creature exited, on his way to have a few choice words with Derek. 

[glitteringcrab]

It's secrets

...What kind of secrets?

If those documents were describing how Evil Morty was puppeteering e.g. the head of the Citadel's Police department (and other random Ricks) I'd understand why Campaign Manager Morty didn't go to the authorities, but...

Why did neither Trenchcoat Rick nor Campaign Manager Morty at least try to distribute fliers with these incriminating photos...? I mean, printing copies of the photo of Candidate Morty wearing an eyepatch next to a brain-surgery-ed Rick (along maybe with some tidbit of information) and scattering them in Morty Town would result in Mortys lynching the candidate of their own party. Problem solved.

Yet neither Trenchcoat Rick nor Campaign Manager Morty tried to do that. Why? What was in those documents...?

Well, if the theory of the existence (and survival) of Puppetmaster Rick is true, I can think of a possible explanation:

Another fan very cleverly suggested that, in order to escape Puppetmaster Rick, Evil Morty "arranged an accident involving a portal gun, since we know that Morty is able to fuck with portal guns settings and hack them, but what also is really important, Citadel Guard Ricks appear when a portal gun owned by a Rick who got it from the Citadel gets damaged".

And I absolutely love this theory. Because it would mean that Citadel Ricks sentenced him to a Citadel punishment, which could be the Machine Of Unspeakable Doom:

(also, every ten seconds it stabs your balls)

(which serves him RIGHT)

However, sadly, I feel it is unlikely that Citadel Ricks would sentence Puppetmaster Rick AT ALL for committing crimes against Mortys. Or Beths... Or Summers, or the multiverse, or anything at all, except other Ricks.

After all, Citadel Rick treat Mortys like cattle...

We've witnessed Evil Morty kidnapping roughly ONE THOUSAND MORTYS (I counted them) to use as human shields but it was the death of 27 Ricks that ruffled the Citadel Ricks' feathers.

Similarly, it was Rick C-137 getting captured by the Federation and risking Citadel secrets falling into the Federation's hands that convinced Ricks to interfere.

CITADEL RICKS SEEM TO TAKE ACTION ONLY WHEN CITADEL RICKS ARE IN TROUBLE.

...Would they really help Evil Morty if they popped up in time to witness what Puppetmaster Rick had been doing to him?

And, more importantly (because e.g. Doofus Rick would totally help Evil Morty), would Evil Morty believe they'd help him, interfere for his sake? Is his behavior afterwards indication that any Rick ever genuinely and reliably took his side?

Would Evil Morty really chose to rely on the goodwill of the random Citadel Rick who would pop at his doorstep?

...So WHAT IF:

1. While he was still trapped, Evil Morty lured another Rick in Puppetmaster Rick's lair, and half-operated on him, like... leaving his skull open and cables visible, before calling for the Citadel Guards by e.g. smashing a portal gun, making it look like Puppetmaster Rick had been preying on Ricks, effectively framing Puppetmaster Rick for a crime he didn't commit. Who then tried the "My Morty Did It" defense, which of course didn't sell lol.

2. Citadel Ricks promptly arrested Puppetmaster Rick and Evil Morty was FINALLY free. Puppetmaster Rick got sentenced in the Machine of Unspeakable Doom, and spent the whole first season there (yayyy).

Evil Morty went on to be abused and neglected by more Ricks until he snapped and began puppeteering Evil Rick in a long-term attempt to bring the Central Finite Curve down, which failed.

3. When the Citadel Guards discovered Evil Rick had been puppeteered by someone, they temporarily extracted Puppetmaster Rick from the DoUM to drill him about who else could be using his tech.

4. Puppetmaster Rick insisted that IT WAS THE MORTY YOU IDIOTS! LOOK FOR THE MORTY!

Which the Citadel Ricks of course ignored and threw him back in the MoUD.

5. ...However, understanding that this might be his only chance for freedom, before getting back in the MoUD, Puppetmaster Rick requested for and hired a private investigator (who also looked the part lol)...

...offering him large amounts of money flurbos if he found the puppeteered Rick's Morty: the Morty with the eyepatch who vanished in the crowd.

6. I have NO IDEA how Trenchcoat Rick managed to successfully make the connection between the Eyepatch Morty accompanying the puppeteered Rick and the Candidate Morty trying to get elected, but apparently he did:

Was it by accident? Did he achieve it by brute force, i.e. tracking down each and every one of the thousand Mortys involved in "Close Rick-counters of the Rick Kind"? Did he get suspicious of the ambitious Candidate Morty who stood out from the crowd? Did he use some intel, some information granted to him by Puppetmaster Rick? Was it something else entirely?

7. And here's the thing: however Trenchcoat Rick managed it, what do the incriminating photos he acquired prove?

Sure, they connect Candidate Morty to the Eyepatched Morty who accompanied Evil Rick, therefore directly proving him responsible for all the crimes Evil Rick had committed while puppeteered...

...But they also directly connect Candidate Morty to Puppetmaster Rick, proving that, in fact, it is possible for A Morty To Do It.

Those documents could be digging really deep into Evil Morty's past (seeecrets)

Handing those documents over to the authorities would equate Puppetmaster Rick (who, if my theory is right, is a freaking rapist), getting freed.

8. While the Ricks running the Citadel are definitely heartless bastards, we've been shown various random Ricks (such as Cop Rick and Doofus Rick) being decent. Even if Trenchcoat Rick didn't know exactly what Puppetmaster Rick had been doing to his Morty, he might have realized that his client had been puppeteering people in general. It's possible Trenchcoat Rick had become disgusted with his client and wanted out. (It's also possible he suspected what had really happened to Eyepatch Morty and pitied him... but not enough to actually take his side. He may not have had it in himself to personally and directly cause further harm to this one extremely traumatized Morty, but at the same time he couldn't be bothered to exert enough effort to try to meaningfully resolve this, to offer Eyepatch Morty actual protection, an actual feasible way out of the systemic abuse)

He knew Candidate Morty was dangerous and definitely needed to be stopped... but he also absolutely did not want to hand his client his "Get Out of Jail Free" card (nor to get his own hands dirty nor to do the very hard thing of actually, meaningfully reaching out to Eyepatch Morty, to be there for a kid whom every other Rick had failed).

9. So Trenchcoat Rick takes the path of least resistance and washes his hands of this problem by passing the burden on to someone else: to the Campaign Manager Morty who Candidate Morty oh-so-conveniently fired out of the blue, giving the kid an extra reason to despise his old boss...

It's even possible he privately contacted Candidate Morty and theatened him to drop out of the race, or else. But Candidate Morty would not stop (and probably got from the fact that he got warned that whoever was spying on him was for whatever reason reluctant for the truth to come out).

(...And I'm gonna say here that --if EM realized that T.R. had figured out what he had been through-- it must have been a pretty significant blow to Eyepatch Morty to have someone know the full extent of what he had been through... but unlike Ricks (who got to enjoy their Mortys' empathy) this knowledge not granting him any companionship, understanding, comfort nor forgiveness.)

10. Who is then faced with the exact same dilemma.

As far as he is concerned, Candidate Morty and Puppetmaster Rick are an equally horrible duo, with one being sentenced equating the freedom of the other, and the reverse (I really doubt he could guess what had happened to Candidate Morty, and I'd bet he just thought both he and his old Rick were monstrous).

How does decent, brave, honest Campaign Manager Morty solve this conundrum?

Why, he decides to deal with Evil Morty himself. (Sure doesn't have a Rick's experience, equipment or skills but he'll try his best. He'll find a way to deal with this, and fast.)

...Thus playing right into Evil Morty's hands.

ONLY when he has no other choice does Campaign Manager Morty come forward with why exactly Candidate Morty is dangerous, so he can save everyone from a very horrible fate...

(...too late)

[carnivalcarriondiscarded]

sat down to think about the Light's Out au and actually. yk. plan it out since i have Affection for it and Interest in it. and then my brain went "what about the aftermath though. why don't we meticulously plan that out" I'VE BEEN TYPING IN THIS DOCUMENT FOR FIVE HOURS straight GAY

[outwalkingthelocales]

Just a little exciting message for the memories!!!

I think it's going to be a beautiful year for many artists and creators with new media entering the public domain...not only that, but for me as well!! Since Welcome Home has let me be myself more, I've been creating my own projects! Organizing my files, creating a portfolio, posting more often, organizing my life in so many ways! I've learned a lot about how things work since then. I know what to do now and what my real goals are! I'm so happy! It's been very rough for me recently and on my break I've grown to be at peace once more......I love Welcome Home so incredibly much for being there during those hard times and being there while they persisted. I want to explore welcome home more as I privately would, share my secrets, talk more!(because I am quite talkative!) and be even happier now that I've found myself. It's going to be a good year!

[hydr0phius-art]

Sageza sketches.

Going to redraw her later, but this is her og portrait if anyone wants to see.

Here's a link to the fic as well, I suppose. It hasn't been updated since 2021 though and I'm going to rewrite it when exams are done and I've written some of my other WIPs (you know how it is with old writing).

[astxriai-png]

Puppet Progress - Turnarounds and Documentation

[vibeless15]

Meet Tether, latest member to the Whinchest crew!

[anotherincorrectquotesblog]

A: I don’t think I would ever do that, but like, the feeling of it would be like holy shit, I just fucking stabbed that guy! B: I don’t think you should say that on camera, man!

[sevyspams]

i would’ve stayed on my knees, and i am damn sure i never would’ve danced with that devil.

The members of the family stood with splendor matching their last name in exquisiteness. Like the matriarch Raiden Ei, they are all resolute and forthright. In the presence of a second harbinger, Dottore, she stood by their side.

A homewrecker, the man who sought to tear this impenetrable family apart. The man, who was so keen to try new things, also tested what would happen if he divided up this family. A family started by a puppet as well.

‘What a blessing it would be to have a family of one's own—a loving family like this.’ "Take my Electro Gnosis with you," Seree remained at the back of the group. Ei shoved her aside. She stayed holding the Dendro, Electro, and Anemo Gnosis close to her. "Get the other four.”

“Where shall I go?” she asked, her hazy eyes gazing up at the Archon with a gaping posture. The Archon did not respond as she turned away from her and returned to tend to her family. The puppet was left there by herself, her head bowed. ‘Ah. I only need the Gnoses. Nothing more.’

Inwardly nodding, Seree drew the three Gnosis closer to her bruised and frail frame. Her eyes were shut in suffering as she painstakingly limped away from the scene of the turmoil, leaving the area where the chaos occurred.

But after taking a false turn, she staggered and dropped the three Gnosis in front of her. Her eyes widened as she crawled to approach the formidable, deadly relics of this realm. She drew the three of them closer to her as she curled up next to a waterbank.

Due to the Gnoses' adverse effects, her hands became crisp and pallid. It was trembling from the pain and the cold. Her grayish-charcoal hands were scarred with writhing, bleeding, withered, scorched, and further lesions. The synthetic skin covering it is hardly visible.

The Puppet was already exhausted, beaten, and damaged, but it seemed as though her body was designed to move. She was never intended to stop, so the only thing she could do was keep going without turning around.

Seree took a quick look at the glowing objects in her palms. Her lungs produced a brief but sharp cough as she wiped away the blood that it carried. The Puppet knew immediately that the end was imminent. She shouldn't let the world's material possessions and emotive entities limit her.

She wouldn't even remain long in this place. All she could do was return to her feet and focus on finding the other Gnosis. “Right. I shouldn’t stop.”

Because she will only be able to stop once she is dead.

disclaimers; this was inspired by a roleplay me and my moots did at our discord server. so if the lore doesn't align with the original genshin lore—it's because it really isn't the genshin lore.

[gotasked4theurlsoigaveitawaylmao]

I'm going to throttle you.

alas you'd have to get in line 😞

[dawnled]

tag post #2 ( character tags ) !

[kykyonthemoon]

Rain On The Way Home

Zayne takes you home after an argument between the two of you.

ಇ. Zayne x Reader/MC

ಇ. Tags & warnings: since there's a bit spicy at the end I shall put 16+, MDNI here, fluff, short and sweet, kiss and make up, making out, argument, hurt/comfort, established relationship, character might be a bit ooc idk.

ಇ. Word count: ~1k9

ಇ. Based on a request by YNhi.

ಇ. Masterlist ♡ Request a fic

Your lips were pursed tightly. Hands placed on your thighs were clenched so tightly that you could feel the nails digging into your skin. You did your hardest to keep back the tears that threatened to fall, but failed. Warm drops dripped on the back of your hands, and you brushed them away as soon as you noticed a familiar figure approaching from afar.

Zayne opened the car door and sat in the driver's seat. He did not glance at you or say anything. You turned entirely to face the window, observing the soft drizzle fall outside. All you wanted to do was kick the car door open, run out into the rain and scream your lungs out.

The atmosphere between the two of you had never been this stuffy. You could have left alone, but because your body was injured and your emotions were all over the place, you lacked the strength to oppose Zayne's decision. So you let him do anything he wanted. Perhaps that was best for both.

Just a second ago, you fought to reject him and ended up sitting here with bitterness in your heart, allowing him to take you home, allowing him to control you like a puppet again.

The third time you had been hospitalized in one short month, you had also reached Zayne's limit.

People at the hospital claimed that when Dr. Zayne was upset, he became quite frightening. They thought he would explode and anyone unlucky enough to get in his way would suffer. On the contrary, Zayne's rage was like a blizzard on the horizon. You might believe it would not find you, but when it did, no matter where you hid, you would never be secure. 

And that day, for the first time ever, Doctor Zayne was seen losing his usual composure.

His lengthy and fast steps resembled racing through long and busy corridors. The hospital room door opened in such a way that it was about to come off its hinges. Zayne's face solidified. Without a word, he confiscated your medical documents and commanded everyone to go, in such a frightening manner that the nurse caring for you had to shiver from the cold after leaving.

Zayne looked at the documents and then at the wound on your shoulder. It was treated in time but remained painful. The injury had left you quite weak, but after nearly a day of medical care, what distressed you the most was Zayne's attitude.

Before he could say anything, you spoke up and explained:

“It was just an incident… It wasn't like I took the initiative to accept this mission. It's just that there were no other Hunters closer to the attack area than I was…”

“That's why, despite the fact that you hadn't completely recovered and were resting, you hurried to the scene, dismissing your prior injuries. Dismissing your doctor's orders?"

One corner of the file in Zayne's hand was so tight that it became wrinkled when he let go and threw it hard on the nearby table. He turned his back on you and looked out the window. One hand on his hip, the other hand to bury his face. He acted as if he was trying his best to retain the last bit of composure. 

"I'm fine." You said. "I honestly felt no discomfort. I have been able to move properly for a week now. Staying at home constantly is boring. I needed to stretch a little so I could get back to work quickly."

Zayne slowly turned around to look at you. He was still standing in the corner of the room, and you noticed the window glass behind him starting to freeze. 

“You were bored? If you feel bored, call your friends. If you feel bored, go shopping or hang out where you like to go. You were bored so you decided to jump right into a group of Wanderers?"

“Zayne…” You grimaced. “I don't like you this way… You… are acting so strange…”

“Do you think I'd like to see you lying here? Do you think I'd like to see you being carried to the hospital?"

"I'm sorry…" You murmured. You knew it was you to blame for not listening to him and instead running to the scene of the attack. But you were conscious of your own strength and wanted to fulfill the commitment you made when you decided to become a Hunter.

"You've said sorry for the third time this month." Zayne responded. His face was rigid, yet his fists were clasped firmly. "I've heard enough."

"Oh, just quit it!" You abruptly raised your voice. "I told you I didn't like you acting this way. As a Hunter, it's normal for me to get hurt!"

Zayne opened his eyes wide. He was astonished by your response. He stayed silent so you could pour out your feelings.

“I am capable of taking care of myself! I don't like being told what to eat or drink. I don't like being told what time I must  go to bed. Or being compelled to stay at home even though I have completely recovered and ready to battle! I'm not a child for you to order around, or tell me to do this and that!”

“You're saying, I'm too controlling over you?”

“I…” You halted. It seemed that was true. Even while you knew Zayne had good intentions and genuinely cared for you, you were unable to avoid feeling as if he was in charge of every part of your life, controlling every meal and sleep. 

"Understood."

Silence permeated the hospital room for a long moment. Zayne gazed at you as if he was considering something, then he started to pack up your clothes and belongings that remained in the room.

“What are you doing?” 

Zayne responded: “I don't want to be the one who controls you. You will be discharged from the hospital and free to do as you please.”

“What do you mean by that?” Free? It sounded like he did not care about you anymore. It sounded like he was going to give you your freedom back by not getting involved in anything related to you anymore.

“I will not force you to stay here. No one can do that. In roughly ten minutes, someone will come and take you to my car. I only ask you to do this for me once more.”

Having said that, Zayne turned and left. The door closed behind his broad back and you swore you were about to cry right from that moment.

The nurse came to inform you that Dr. Zayne had directly requested your discharge from the hospital. They let you go since your situation was not too serious and they believed Zayne would care for you discreetly at home. Zayne waited for you in the parking lot. He unlocked the door for you to enter first and returned to fetch a few more medical supplies before driving you home.  

All along the way, you kept wondering if you had made a big mistake. You were exceptionally disrespectful and became frustrated with Zayne for no reason. However, he did not give in to you as he always did. Confused, you simply wanted to lie down on your pleasant mattress at home and weep loudly. However, as the car came to a halt in front of your flat, Zayne refused to let you get out.

You turned to look at him. He looked exhausted and miserable. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, then your eyes met for a moment. You were the first to break that connection.

"I'm home now. Can I leave yet? Or do I still have to wait for your permission?"

"Just stay a little more." Zayne's deep voice rang out. He was considerably more relaxed now than he had been previously. "I'm sorry…"

That was the first time you had heard an apology from him. How strange! Usually, you were the one making trouble, and Zayne was the one who looked after you. You were the one who said sorry. Hearing those words coming out of his mouth made you feel so odd.

“I'm sorry if I become too controlling and that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

You were astonished for a second. You still wanted to weep, but your emotions had settled down considerably.

Zayne slipped his hand down from the steering wheel to seize yours and turned it over. He said:

“When I saw you almost unconscious from the poison, being carried into the hospital room, my heart seemed to stop beating. That is not something I want to see at all.”

Zayne's eyes were quite sorrowful. You subconsciously imagined that if you switched roles and the injured person was him, you definitely would not be able to remain calm in such a situation.

“I know you can take care of yourself,” Zayne continued. “But I still want to help you do that and protect you. In my own way.”

After he finished speaking, there was a moment of calmness. The street lights were illuminated, and the rain stopped pouring. You softly clutched his hand.

“I'm sorry too, because what I said was not true… I didn't mean to call you a dictator who controls this relationship…”

You smiled at him. The corners of Zayne's lips also loosened somewhat. He took your hand and tenderly pressed a kiss on.

“I'm really okay.” You added. “The doctor also said that the poison from the Wanderers had been purified. I don't feel too much pain anymore."

Zayne gave a slight nod. He understood this from the moment he read your record. That was why he boldly asked for you to be discharged from the hospital. Even though he was upset, your safety would come first in any case.

"You said you were fine?" Zayne inquired out of the blue. "How do you prove it then?"

You exhaled. After all, he still had reservations about your ability to care for yourself. You leaned in to offer him a passionate kiss. The resentment in your heart melted away in his warmth.

As your lips withdrew from Zayne's, he whispered:

"Good enough. However, in the future, if there is an issue between us, or if you are dissatisfied with something I do,... can I trust you to talk to me directly about it?"

You gave a modest nod. Zayne kissed you, deep. He caressed you but only so gently, as if afraid that you would melt into rain bubbles if he became too greedy. A while later, perhaps since your head was hazy from the injury, you had no clue how you ended up sitting on top of Zayne in the driver's seat, your lips locked with him while your hands constantly touching his flesh underneath the shirt. His delicate but searing kisses fell on your shoulder, around the bandaged area that had just been revealed to his sight as he pulled your shirt down. He kissed your wounds, new and old. He asked softly, would you feel pain if he touched them? And you replied that there was only pain if he did not do so.

Rain began pouring again; it might last all night long. How convenient, since he did not intend to let you get out of the car in such a condition.