#we do everything to be safe for visitors and staff

[yuurei20]

Updated Vil Facts Part 4: Fame (pt1)

Vil says that he would often be hounded by the press just outside of his home, but rather than try to slip away without their noticing he would stay inside. Vil says that, at age 10, he built a “secret base” where he knew he would be safe no matter what, as there was always the risk of intruders.

Jack guesses that Vil must have people screaming his name every time he goes outside, but Vil says they usually ask for his autograph, or to shake hands. Jack says it is an incredible story and Vil responds, “Of course it is; I lead an incredible life. I'm no common spudling, as you well know.”

Azul explains that Vil is “a highly popular figure who does everything from modeling for fashion magazines to acting in movies. When Fashion Week kicks off, he's flooded with offers from big-name brands. He held the record for runway appearances in last year's fall and winter seasons. Plus he's a Magicammer with over five million followers. All this while still a student! They say whenever he plugs a piece of merchandise, it flies off every store shelf,” which Vil dismisses as “basic information hardly worth calling attention to.”

Azul later says that Vil’s quality “exceeds all expectations,” and “They'd draw enough of a crowd to fill this place even if the NRC Tribe was the only act here.”

Silver mentions that whenever the school was open to the public, “Vil always drew enormous crowds of people,” and Sebek says that “it was serious enough that we had extra security in place due to Vil and Neige LeBlanche performing there” during the VDC.

Staff at a store in the Fairest City faint after seeing Vil dressed for a film premier. The designer explains, “It often happens when Mr. Schoenheit is here.”

Jamil observes, “A reminder of the true power an internationally renowned celebrity like Vil wields…”

The Tapis Rouge group meets with the head designer of a world-famous brand and Ace comments on how casually Vil speaks with him. Jamil again comments, “You can tell they really respect each other, seeing as they're both at the top of their individual fields...”

When the group leaves the store the entire staff line up to see them off, which Jamil guesses is something they only do for Vil.

On Azul’s recommendation (and with Vil’s permission), Vil’s group for Port Fest utilizes his fame to attract visitors to their food stall. 

In Fleur City, Epel sees a makeup shop covered in posters of Vil.

During Halloween Jamil says that NRC has been attracting more visitors in recent years due to people coming specifically to see Vil.

[prof-peach]

what is the weirdest enrichment you do thats normal for the pokemon? i have a dreepy who likes to launch herself out of a modified tennis launcher. worst thing that happened is that she phased through a few house

Mud rolling for phanphy that never got that opportunity. As in, theyre nervous around their own species because of isolation, and so YOU THE PROFESSOR have to get in the mud and teach them how to phanphy. Messy but fun, no one else likes to do it weirdly, I always rather enjoyed it.

furret tube enrichment. Grey sets up a bunch of pipes all connected in weird and wild ways like a janky jungle gym, we put small treats in there, and tie "prey" ie, toys, to strings and pull them at speed through the maze to get the furrets to chase and learn that behaviour if they never got to prior.

Murkrow are VERY smart, and we have a lot of them, so theres regular scavenger hunts (with a few rules to save guests grief) that we hold for them specifically. everyone gets participation rewards, but also its a great chance for them to sharpen their problem solving skills individually and as a group.

Tug of war with guests. we got this set up that lets the bigger mons hold one end, and visitors or other pokemon are encouraged to engage with the game and try to out pull the island residents. sometimes the little pokemon all join in, but we originally set it up for the bigger ones.

Theres a couple of Tauros and girafarig that like to roll own hills with the wooloo and odd mareep, we've set up sturdier wire nets for this now the heavy mons like to partake too, to catch them all safely so they can run back up and do it again. You can imagine the chaos we had when they started doing this and didnt have that net in place, mons rolling too far towards sea cliffs.

Slugma races. This needs no explination. The staff love this one.

Movie nights, sport teams, dance sessions, story time, arts and crafts, and even band practice are clubs we hold, be it a professor or another group of staff, and many mons can come and go as they see fit, theyre all optional but we try to encourage each resident to find the thing that makes them tick, and so trying out a bunch of things is there for all. Some may not like team sport with the staff so I also offer just gym time, a personal best system in place more than a group effort and score.

It really varies from one to the next. some big mons like dainty hobbies, some of the little ones are brawlers, and everything in between. We just have to cater to it!

A nice example is a Hitmonchan that came in a while back missing a leg, they fight with me and others in the gym of course, but they also partake in a tea and stories night, a couple dozen pokemon, a few staff all cosying up in one of the event barns with readings from books, and plenty of snacks. its a firm favorite as autumn creeps in, numbers spike.

Pokemon can be complex, so offering lots is alwasy the best choice when you can, never know what they'll like until they try it!

[sweetmisschesire]

Spoilers for Poppy playtime chapter 4

OK, so it’s confirmed that the prototype does not care about any of the children who have been turned into toys at all

Like mommy catnap the doctor (not a toy but still) were means to an end it seems

Not sure what he’s going to do with their bodies given that he took away at least mommy’s and catnap’s

The orphans are alive, the hour of joy only killed the staff(if I’m understanding that videotape correctly, the visitors were killed at a different time)

Poppy is definitely not wholly good and isnt telling us everything

Not to mention why does prototype want her in that case so bad?

Ollie never existed or did a long time ago

Maybe that’s who prototype was before he was prototype

Doey oh man doey

Three bodies three minds trapped in one Play-Doh contraption, in constant pain and with one of those minds being quick to anger and violent outbursts

It’s why he keeps talking to himself, he’s literally arguing with the other two minds in the body

They really gave us a safe haven and hope that we could save some of the kids/toys there

Only for the prototype to trick us and move the explosives into the safe haven, killing everyone

Huggy is alive, and is gonna a massive problem in chapter 5

Also fuck the staff

Not counting the ones upstairs that likely had no idea what was going on, I do not feel any remorse for them in the hour of joy

None

As for catnap and yarnaby, the doctor and staff purposely picking two troubled kids with behavioral issues so they could be more easily manipulated, with prototype doing the same to catnap/theo after he was turned into a bigger body

Holy shit that’s awful

[plainwafercookie]

Flavourless,Chapter 4: A Familiar Face

Everything ached, her mind felt numb as she finally came too, still laying against the dusty floor of her bedroom floor. “..ugh second time today, that’s a record..”. She’d raise up into a sitting position slowly and bring her knees forward to hug them, her journal falling to the side of her.

Just what was going on..? She’d only been gone a few hours at best, how could a war happen and do this much damage?. Everything was so peaceful.

Rubbing her eyes with her sleeves for a moment then looking down to herself. She was in quite a state, her new robes torn with a bit of jam around the knee area from her escape though the window, plus all the dust and dirt that latched onto her. 

The gift from her parents was already ruined, the thought making tears well up again in her eyes but she quickly rubbed them away.

She had to collect herself a bit, nothing comes from sitting and crying as her Papa told her, even if she did have trouble controlling it, she really had to stay calm and think of what to do next.

Her thoughts were soon broken by the sound of footsteps as she crawled to her window to peek out just slightly, had the invaders finally followed her?

It wasn't the same Cookies she’d seen but was looking very similar, wearing purplish back and seemingly missing an arm.

The cookie looked up as their gazes met suddenly,she’d gasped and scrambled back from the window, her first thought being to hide, as she grabbed her staff and scrambled to duck under her bed without a second thought.

What she did not see through, was a few more cookies appearing just behind seconds later.

Hugging herself into a small ball as she covered her mouth beneath the bed, she could hear a lot more footsteps coming, had more appeared? This was not good, if there are more of them, no way could she fight that many!.

She could hear voices but it was too muffled to make out but seemed to be coming closer to her door which she’d let open.

Cursing herself lightly for not closing it before her scramble to her bed but quickly stiffened as she could see the shadow of cookies entering now and the voices a lot clearer and some footsteps seeming a lot more heavier with clanks, was one wearing armor? This is even worse, no way could she fight someone in full armor!?.

“She was in here, the crows confirmed it and I saw it with my own eyes.., they seemed startled” said a monotone feminine voice.

A gruffer, stricter voice came in “If it is one of Dark Enchantress cookies minions, we should deal with them immediately, capture them and interrogate them for information!”

Then a more cheerful boisterous feminine voice perked up “Dark Cacao! Calm yourself, not everything is solved by being intimidating, what if it is just a visitor from the Crème republic that stowed away on Clotted Cream Cookie’s ship, though it seems unlikely with how guarded the ship is, the villager cookies did say they looked Vanilla like..”

Dark Enchantress Cookie?, Creme Republic? None of those words were familiar to her at all as she wrecked her brain in confusion, but a more familiar gentle voice spoke up entering the room, breaking her from her current thoughts.

“My friends, I do not think that is the case, I appreciate you accompanying me but please allow me to deal with this, there is no other way out of this house so they must still be here, I'm sure they must be scared if they have chosen to hide..”

That voice, it couldn't be and on instinct she squeaked out a “Your Majesty?”

All the voices in the room seemed to stop as she covered her mouth, now she’d done it!, all the shadows turning towards the bed and one getting ever so close as she could make out the bottom of white robes that knelt down slowly.

She braced herself, shaking a little as the sheets were lifted, light hitting her face causing her to wince and hug her staff even closer, no escape now.

“Oh there you are, it’s alright, you can come out now, I promise it’s safe, no one will hurt you.” the gentle and familiar voice said as she slowly opened her eyes to see the one person she looked up to, giving her a warm smile and opening forward his hand, It really was Pure Vanilla Cookie, his Majesty, he was here.

Not being able to hold it back, the sense of relief of a familiar face, she launched herself forward with a cry “Your Majesty!”, knocking him back and she hugged him tightly, sniffling into his chest.

If this was any other moment she’d be very embarrassed with herself for such an act but his arm seemed too wrapped around to hold her close, while the other patted her hair with a quiet “Oh my, this is a bit unexpected..” having shocked him a little at the affection.

Her gaze eventually looked up to him, as she gave a small sniffling hiccup, he was still the same as she’d seen him yesterday as he gave her a comforting smile.

She’d now turn to look at the other cookies, finally seeing them fully as she gasped a little. She recognised two of them from the stained sugar windows and the many lessons from the Academy.

Two of the Ancient cookies, Dark Cacao and Hollyberry, she still had no idea who the third was though but recognised the crow on her shoulder as the birds that spooked her before.

Confusion showed across her face as well as shock of actually getting to meet two other ancient cookies, but this was no time to be some sort of fangirl!.

She felt a hand on her head again but lightly touching one of her hairclips but her attention went to the monotone cookie picking out her journal as she raised arm out to call out “ h-hey that’s mine!”

The cookie was holding it now, raising an eyebrow, “This is yours?” quickly looking at it then shaking her head “I don’t think that’s possible..”

Blinking, not possible? Are they accusing her of lying as she was about to speak up in resort but Pure Vanilla seemed too first with a light pat to her back. “Hollyberry, would you mind comforting her, and Black Raisin Cookie, may I have a look at that please?”

She felt herself being helped up before she even had a say as she peered up to Hollyberry in a bit of awe, she was so big and strong, just like the books had said.

Receiving a comforting smile from her as she seemed to inspect her. “What a small cookie you are, you seem to have been through a lot, you need a nice clean with rest and oh dear your poor little knee’s, let's get them checked soon, thankfully we have the best mender in Earthbread here.” giving out a joyful chuckle that did make her feel a little better.

At the mention of her knee's she’d peer down, she had completely forgotten about them and the area was sticky with a bit of jam and she could feel the slight sting now.

Looking back to his Majesty direction as he took the offered journal, holding it up close with a squint and putting his staff closer to read. Usually she'd be so embarrassed, especially since she wrote about him but something seemed off as his eyes opening a little as he turned some pages, his expression saddening a little before turning slightly to look at Plain Wafer Cookie.

“Small one, are you, Plain Wafer Cookie?” she gave a small nod in response as he looked confused.

“But that's..” his voice cutting off in uncertainty as Dark Cacao spoke up “What is it Pure Vanilla cookie, did you figure something out?, just who is this cookie?”

He closed the journal in his hand as he took a breath. “She is not a foe, she is a citizen of this kingdom, her name is Plain Wafer Cookie, daughter of Heavy Cream Cookie, one of my many former guardsmen, these journal entries confirm it, especially the last one since i was present for it but...” the next words leaving his mouth causing her eyes to widen and feeling like her world had just shattered to pieces. “..She suddenly vanished many decades ago..” the word fading out as her vision went dark, feeling herself falling, her staff clanking to the floor and the muffled cries of those around her as everything went black.

{Previous} {Next:}

(So glad to finally finish this chapter, i did my best to write the Ancients how they are portrayed, hopefully i got it right and i went over it almost four times. and i think the record just got set to three.) (This visual art was a bit harder, drawing cookie side wards.) (Please let me know how your enjoying the story so far, and a small part 2 to this chapter will be posted soon, its not very long but it's in PVC POV.)

[but-the-library-of-alexandria]

fantasy writers: on what an archive/archivist is -

An archive is a collection of primary historical or legacy records.

An archive is not:

a library (ie. not a collection of published secondary sources like books or academic papers)

a research institute (in the same way a grocery store is not a kitchen; an archive is where you find source material for research)

a place where records are created (documents come to the archives AFTER they've been created and are no longer in use)

a museum/item collection (archives are for recorded history, usually written documents on paper or parchment - or in more modern settings, photographs and audiovisual recordings - but not antique objects or archaeological finds)

An archivist is someone who:

takes care of records in an archive so they survive for posterity; primary sources are usually unique and irreplacaeble, so security is tigher than for library books, and they must be preserved more carefully to prevent decay over time

gathers or collects existing, primary records of the past (ie. letters or diaries, not published books or ancient swords); this can be the recent past as well as the distant past, eg. last year's diaries

catalogues or lists and ideally indexes the contents of the archive so that people know what records exist and can easily find them

helps advise researchers etc. where they might find the information they're looking for

fetch and hand out requested records to visitors, supervise their use, and put them away in the correct place when they're finished with; unlike library books, archive documents are usually stored in private back rooms, and visitors must request documents to be fetched for them.

Archivists generally do NOT:

create records themselves: someone who is, for example, in the corner of a courtroom writing down everything that happens is not an archivist, they're a scribe or a clerk. those documents will likely not come into the hands of an archivst for several years.

do research: that's what a historian does. a good archivist has a functional knowledge of relevant history and knows roughly what their documents contain/mean, but archivists are there to help the people doing the research to find the information they need, and they're supposed to remain neutral on what the records may imply.

read archive documents in detail: again, that's the job of the researcher. it would be impossible for most archivists to read and memorise every document handed to them; they'd read just enough to list what the record is (eg. letters written by [person] from [place] in [year] discussing [subject]) so that someone interested in [person] or [place] can see it listed and ask to read it.

It helps to think of information like a product, and an archive like a store: the product is not created at the store by the store staff, and the store staff don't use the product - they are the middle man keeping it safe and distributing it to those who want to use it. Specifically, it works like a warehouse store, where a customer consults a catalogue, then orders what they want from staff, who then go into the back and bring it out for them.

Final tip: archive and archivist are pronounced differently! the i in archive is pronounced as in 'dive', but both the 'i's in archivist are prounounced as in 'give' - for some reason, we don't pronounce it 'archive-ist'.

[saphig-iawn]

Feel My Words!

I am opening commissions for short stories!

I have 5 slots open for now to see how things work out on my end with it.

I've received a lot of love for my writing, and it is something I adore doing. I love writing about the sessions and I will keep doing so and putting them here, but after writing more fiction on Cohost (Rest in power, sweet eggbug), I think this is something I would love to do more of.

The commission is live on Ko-fi, but please only purchase once you've filled out this form.

If you've read this far, then please enjoy a piece I wrote for Cohost. It is about working behind the scenes at theme park where you find yourself becoming far more involved than you thought. It is called:

Behind the Scenes

CW: noncon transformation

The keycard swipe took a few attempts before the device fixed to the wall chirped in affirmation. It was almost too hard to hear over the roar of the crowds and rides, but her new colleague's beaming grin was enough of a sign that ingress into the behind the scenes of the theme park was successful.

"Eee I just love showing new folk around! 'Specially the behind the scenes, heheheee~!" Norene squealed- wait was it Norene? Naomi? She was so excited to be lifting the veil on the magic of the park that it was very hard to see her name badge.

You had already been shown around some of the staff areas- oh, not staff, you were a Showhand, gotta keep up the act in front of the all the park visitors- but this was your first time being shown behind the scenes of a ride. It was bittersweet, because the ride was one of your favourites, was being a keyword because it got changed in the time between your last visit and getting a job here. Some of the characters were a touch dated so a big facelift and rebranding was ordered and their hard work swept away the memories and tucked them behind the wall in vacuum sealed bags. Bags that you were now looking at.

"Gawsh I miss these little guys too" 'Norene' said from behind you, "But all the new stuff is gonna make new happy memories for the kids queuing up today!" She patted you on the back, and it felt far more assuring than you expected. You hated the whole "We're a family" corporate message, but you can tell 'Norene' really cared.

Skipping from scene to scene, diorama to diorama, 'Norene' ran through the checks needed to ensure a safe ride. It being a small dark ride made these checks quite quick as everything was pretty condensed in the space, the focus was largely on the scenes the cars would pass through.

"Now, everythin' good so far?" 'Norene' wheeled on her heel to catch your eyes, her playfulness retreated behind a stern look. You nodded in agreement. Her face lit back up again. "Great! Now, we got ourselves a special item added to our checks today, one of the characters missed a beat on her performance so when she spun around for the big ol' long note, the servos in her arm ripped up her costume something good, so we gotta replace it."

A little chill shocked you as the realisation of your responsibility set in. Even on this small ride, there were just so many moving parts, so many points of potential failure. If one things goes awry then the whole experience is changed.

"Oooh yup, I had that too!" You felt 'Norene' wrap you in a deep hug, then a pat on the shoulder. "You don't got to worry though, we're both in charge o' this ride, it'll all go like clockwork!"

You soften in her support, the chill around your chest ablating in her warmth.

She directs you to where all manner of spare things are kept for the ride, including costumes for the humanoid animatronic characters.

The rebrand was a strange thing to explore from this perspective. Not quite uncanny, but everything you saw brought up feelings of familiarity and other. The ride before and after were 'period settings' according to official documentation, so there was a lot that got reused and recycled. You felt like you were in one of those hidden secrets videos where a chipper host guides you through the hidden details and traces of previous rides.

The rebrand was of a typical diamond-in-the-rough story, a bright woman with big ideas gets overlooked, patriarchal systems punch her when she's down, but a sudden beautification has the world finally see her. It was… meh. What wasn't lacklustre was the quality of the costumes. Even the saccharine sweet pink dress that the main character ends up in was incredibly well made. That was until the animatronic tore streaks through it.

As you unpacked the new costume from its protective sleeves, it amazed you. For a garment that would never be worn by a person, there were so many parts to it. Petticoats, a corset, stockings, garter belts, bloomers, suspenders, the lot. You suppose that, if this character is whirling and twirling, then you got to treat them a like a real dancer and not have too many points where a gap in the outfit might spoil the show.

The dress itself was a statement in pink satin. A skirt, that almost looked caged, but your keen eyes spotted how the tiers were actually built on small pulley systems so the animatronic beneath could send the right parts of the fabric in a spin or a flurry. The bodice pulled right in at the waist, with proud pink bows adorning the bustle and bust. Long bishop sleeves billowed out into pristine frilled cuffs. The collar sat high, with plenty of room for the deep emerald green choker.

"Like God made it herself, huh?" sighed 'Norene'. You could almost taste her admiration in the air. She walked around the table you had laid it out on, gently running her hands over the fabric like she was greeting friendly koi at a pond. Her face was aglow, but that was largely because of the light reflecting from the dress. You melt a little in yourself, seeing 'Norene' so happy. "It was Norene!" you shouted triumphantly in your head. She was finally stood still long enough to read her name tag properly.

"Whenever I ran tests on this ride, I loved watching her dance in this dress." Norene said, dreamily. "Gawsh I just wanna scoop it up off the table an' wear it myself."

There's a tone to her voice, you recognised it; thinly veiled yearning. You had been there too, watching princesses in films when you were younger and wanting to be them with every fibre of your being.

"While it makes the kids happy an' all, something like this is a little wasted on silicone and servos." Norene's pleasantness gave way a little. Barbs of envy stood a little too proud in her words. The smile on the corners of her mouth faded.

"Besides, I'm too small for the costume. While I love everythin' here, they never quite cater to everyone in all their splendors." There was a bitterness. "Its always the same kinda shapes, and the same sorta looks. And when they finally have the ba-" She stops herself, her cheeks flushed with equal parts injustice and embarrassment.

She looks up to you, almost pleadingly. You return a soft smile, but before you can offer words of support her face snaps back to jollity, like a bulb in her mind had just flashed with inspiration.

Without breaking eye contact, Norene grabs the dress by its shoulders and drapes it over your front.

"Oh… mygod…" she just about manages. Her eyes are wide and epiphanic. She suddenly retreats into herself, bunching the dress up at her chest, like a small child aware of their timidity and hiding behind a pillow. She looks at the clock, and scans the room for cameras unbeknownst to you.

"Wouldja wanna… uh.. try it on?" she trembled.

Like the Showhands who don costumes and personalities, you suddenly felt like you were being greeted by a character's biggest fan, and about to make a dream come true. You nod silently, a smile on your face.

Norene squeals with excitement, some of it tapping into the part of her brain that confuses cuteness with aggression. The dress felt this emotion the most, but she gasped as she realised that was causing the garment distress.

Like a character from one of the films, Norene danced and pranced around, guiding you to a chair and sitting you down. It felt really strange having parts of the costume being put on over your uniform, but you guessed this impromptu cosplay wouldn't be on for long so the discomfort was bearable. Despite your cargo pants, the stockings hugged your legs well. The garter sitting neatly over the frilled panties. You felt so relieved that Norene couldn't see your face because having a fairly new acquiantance be so much in your personal space had your cheeks ablaze.

Dissociating in that moment to not focus on what was happening meant Norene yanking you to your feet snapped you back. It felt so odd to be stood fully clothed with period lingerie on top. You almost felt a bit vulnerable, like you should be covering up. Norene whipped about you with the character's corset. Surprisingly, the garment needed very little adjusting. Your polo shirt was not the appropriate accompaniment to its finery.

Norene brings the dress over and holds it open for you to push your arms through and in. The inside felt amazing. The lining glided over your skin. The dress hugged and accentuated in the just the right places. If you stood still in the right place, you almost stopped feeling your stuffy polo shirt and cargo pants.

There it was. Giddiness. A bubble. Right in the chest. You felt yourself smiling.

"AaaaAAaah! Look at you darlin'!" Norene's praise was almost a shriek. You felt her tighting and adjusting, zhuzhing and tweaking. "Aaaaah its time for tha finishin' tooouuuch!"

The way the light catches the green ribbon of the choker stuns you for a moment. It felt like peering into another world, its sky alight with an aurora; its broach framing this world like a painting.

Norene brings it up to your neck, and walks around you to fasten it.

You felt… complete? A rare feeling, but you felt satisfied. Like wearing this costume was right.

"Gawsh have I waited so long for this." Norene purrs. "So. Long."

Wait. There it was again. Those barbs of envy, but this time they felt more severe. Like fangs. The hairs on your neck pricked with apprehension, a slight panic set in. Maybe it was time to take this off-

An arm barred across your shoulders as a hand clamped on your mouth.

Your gasp was caught by the hand and forced back in as you went to struggle.

"No! Nonono, don't ruin this sweetie, I've waited- uhn- so long" Norene spat.

You tried to move towards an exit of any kind, hoping you could get out, even if Norene was dragged with you. No one would care about you being in the costume, if they saw Norene trying to attack you, right?

But your feet didn't respond.

You heaved forward, almost lifiting Norene off her feet, in attempt to shift your weight but your feet would not budge.

"Darlin' it'll be so much easi- hey! nonono- so much easier if you just let it happen!"

Like the dimming lights of a rolling blackout, your legs began to seize up and cease moving. Your breath was quickening, the panic was birthing screams that Norene's hand kept denying.

"Oh come on! Gunna have to adjust your feet now, this is not a- whoa!- not a cute pose!"

Pose? What the fuck was she talking about?

Your fingers find purchase between her arm and your shoulders, the sleeves being the biggest obstacle in trying to find a point of grip. You try hard to pull her arm away, but the rising immobility made things difficult.

Your core muscles stopped responding.

The strength in your arms was beginning to wane.

"That's it darlin', there we go." Norene cooed. It was chilling, you felt like a prey caught in a trap, being soothed by your captor. How could she be like this while attacking you? "Just a lil' more, just a lil' more!"

Your arms have almost locked in place.

You deploy a last resort.

You feel your teeth sink into Norene's palm.

"Ah ya lil' rat! Stop biting!"

Like it was willed by her words, your next bite was softer. And softer.

"Aaahh… there we go…" Norene sighed, releasing her grip on your frozen lips.

You try to look at your captor but your head won't move.

Norene walks into your vision.

"God you're beautiful. The pose, I can work on, but you look so perfect hun."

You so wished your eyes could inflict pain on her but despite staring harder than you've ever stared, Norene was uneffected.

Norene ducks below your eyeline. The sound of snipping scratches through the air. You feel something shifting and brushing on your skin. You tried so, so, hard to do anything but you remained frozen and reluctantly posed in your final moment of struggle.

A hand holding butchered cargo pants enters your eyeline.

"Won't be needing these anymore!" said the hand, before it drops them like a discarded wrapper.

You feel the dress and bodice press into your form even more, as Norene reappears, holding shreds of your polo shirt.

"There we go, darlin'. Can't have the kids seeing anything outta place. Besides, princesses don't wear polos."

Your mind was racing with anger and frustration. Was this it? Being held captive as Norene's own doll?

As that thought finished in your trapped mind, Norene began to pose you. The way your vision changed would be nauseating but whatever form you were in now didn't allow you that privilege.

"You see," Norene said from behind you, adjusting your legs and hips., "it wasn't just the costume that bit the dust, it was the whole character! But now, with you here an' dressed perfectly, they're gonna find the character's been fixed and that I did it and my perfect record of maintaining this ride will be maintained! Oh and they'll be none the wiser of course, hehe!"

You wanted to frown and spit at her glee, but your face remained stubbornly serene, now framed by your gloves

"Can't have folk goin' 'round asking questions either, so I'll make sure to work a lil' magic on those who jam their noses in where they shouldn't belong." She positions herself in front of you, admiring her work, running her hands up and down your frame and curves. "Not like what I worked on you, hun. No no, you're special darlin'. It was so fortuitious that ya landed in my care on a day like today." She adjusted the skirt of your dress. "I'll take care of ya darlin', thass a good girl."

She reached above her head at a dangling control and pressed a chunky button.

Your mind filled with music. Your inner voice erupting into song. Your ears heard no sound yet your body began to move and dance like a band was playing your theme. You wanted to revolt, to fudge the moves and break your voice, but you continued, like you were made for this.

Norene smiled.

[welcome-back-to-hoimycraf]

SO EXCITED TO BE POSTING THIS EEEEEEEEEE

this is my gift for @bigb-enthusiast for the @mcyt-yaoi-exchange! i know there's not enough skizzb in the world so i decided to deliver >:) based on my friend's fic, the boogey!! it's SO good, go check it out, but doesn't have to be read to read this fic! (it helps and gives context, but other than that this can totally be standalone!) thank you to rain @deityoftherain, kai @kaihuntrr, and kai @kaije224 from the yaoi event server for betaing! ALSO. I FUCKING GOT HIT BY THE AO3 WRITER'S CURSE. A FUCKING ONCE IN A LIFETIME HURRICANE DEVASTATED MY STATE WHILE WRITING THIS????? EVEN AS I'M WRITING THIS AUTHOR'S NOTE, I DON'T HAVE ELECTRICITY OR AC LMAOOOO BUT WE STAY SILLY!!!!! THE YAOI GRIND STOPS FOR NOTHING, NOT EVEN A HISTORICALLY DAMAGING HURRICANE

BigB sat at his desk, numbly staring at the unmoving red dot on his computer- the dot that represented Skizz. 

Skizz had sacrificed himself- gotten attacked by that thing that had been downing heroes left and right. It wasn’t safe to be patrolling right now, not with the Boogey on the loose. The thing, that mass of purple goop that’d been causing so many missing people and infection cases, was still roaming the city. No one knew what it was, where it came from, or what it could do. He’d told Skizz not to go on this mission! He slammed his fist down on the table, ripping off the headset that still had Phoenix's panicked voice coming through. It was of no use to him anymore. Skizz was unconscious. Skizz had tranquilized himself…. 

And now there was no telling what would happen to his husband. 

B slumped back into his uncomfortable swivel chair, rubbing his hands too harshly into his eyes to stop the tears from spilling. Vague, muffled shouting leaked from the headphone’s speakers that BigB couldn’t exactly make out. He knew Phoenix was trying to talk to him, to get him to help, but the words were all jumbled together. Everything felt floaty. B could barely think through the fog plaguing his mind.   

This wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be real. 

…What was he supposed to do now?

—----

BigB had rushed to the hospital as soon as he was told where Skizz had been admitted. The nurse at the front desk had notified him of Skizz’s condition. Her words still echoed in his mind.

“Comatose,” she’d said. Medically induced. It was the best way to deal with the Boogey’s infected patients that had been admitted, she explained. There was no cure. B had known that long before this. Something in him had still hoped that fact would have changed in the half-hour drive to the hospital. He still felt the numbness washing over him as he was informed.

On top of that, he wasn’t even allowed to see his husband. The nurse had told him that no one was to enter infected patients’ rooms besides permitted staff. That the risk of contagion was too great for visitors. That didn’t make him want to bust down the door to Skizz’s room any less. 

The best solution he could come up with was throwing himself into his work. At least working at the Traffic City Hero Agency gave him a way to actually help Skizz. He couldn’t imagine being a civilian who’d lost a loved one to the infection, unable to do anything useful- or even know what happened to them. B was never more grateful to be privy to top secret information than he was now.  

His workload was mentally exhausting, but that was preferred. Anything to keep his thoughts from straying to Skizz…. 

It mostly consisted of desperate research. Double and triple-checking databases of wanted criminals, missing persons’ reports, and infection cases. Something had to lead him to the Boogey. If not… he wasn’t sure what he would do with himself. 

The smaller portion of his work was helping Lizzie. 

Her and Joel had recently lost their spouse, Etho, to the Boogey as well- which B could grimly relate to. Joel channeled his grief into anger, taking any excuse he could find for field work. Any excuse to get his fists dirty and feel something- even if that usually translated into the sting of wounds and the metallic taste of blood on his tongue. While his methods seemed extreme, it was clear that Lizzie was taking the loss harder. 

Etho had been defending her when they were downed. They’d lost themself to the infection for her. B remembered the aftermath, when she had returned from the mission essentially hysterical. He couldn’t blame her.

Etho’s spouses didn’t even have the comfort of knowing they were safe in a hospital bed, asleep and blissfully unaware. They were still out there, somewhere. No one knew if they were hurt- or hurting someone through the influence of the Boogey.

Skizz was out of B’s expertise, but Etho was out of his grasp completely. It wasn’t like he- or the agency, even- could do much to help them. Even if they did somehow find and incapacitate them, what was the point? It’d prevent further harm, yes, but they’d still be infected. B couldn’t do anything to save either of them.

BigB did his best to lighten the burden on Lizzie’s shoulders, but there was only so much he could do. He didn’t do field work like her, which only left the half of her job she did at the agency- and even then, she didn’t let him take on too much. 

Lizzie insisted he was working himself to the bone, that Skizz would want him to take breaks. 

BigB told her she should worry more about her bloodied and battered husband and her missing spouse than her overburdened coworker. He only half regretted it. 

—----

Life was hard, without Skizz. 

BigB wasn’t aware of how much Skizz’s ever-cheerful energy truly got him through each and every day. Each evening when he arrived home, the house felt… cold. Empty. There was no life behind the front door. Not anymore. 

Everything felt broken. 

B fell into the familiar motions of making dinner. Pasta. Skizz’s favorite. He always loved alfredo- loves alfredo. 

He made enough for the both of them, purely on instinct. He used to make them at least one meal every day. 

The familiarity was nice. 

Skizz would always mention loving coming home to the smell of something delicious cooking, and B was happy to give him that. Cooking was a big thing in his family, a show of love and care for those closest to you, and he’d always be more than glad that Skizz loved what he made. The man did his fair share, though, chopping vegetables and washing dishes with nothing but a content smile.

He didn’t realize when his tears sizzled into the pan where the garlic was sauteing. 

Skizz’s arms never wrap around his waist. Skizz’s cheek never rubs up against BigB’s neck to tease him with his stubble. Skizz’s mischievous fingers never pluck a noodle straight from the pot for “testing”. 

BigB’s dinner tasted rancid on his tongue.

—----

Two weeks in, B had given up breaks. 

B’s eyes burned from both the restless nights of sleep and the too-bright screen of the laptop he’d been staring at for far too long. The all-too-familiar ache in his back had returned with a fierce passion because of his near-constant hunch over his keyboard. The dull pain was a welcome change from the numbness.

He couldn’t remember Lizzie coming in, but the sandwich sitting on his desk proved his memory wrong. A turkey club. From his favorite café. B didn’t have to wonder how she knew that information for long- it was the last thing he’d eaten with Skizz.

His husband had barged into the meeting room with a dopey smile on his face, holding a paper bag above his head triumphantly. Skizz’s expression had quickly transformed from accomplished to sheepish when he noticed the debriefing he’d clearly interrupted. Lizzie had giggled at Skizz’s attempt at a peace offering, which consisted of handing BigB one of the contents from the bag.

They had ended up pausing the meeting for a lunch break. Skizz chatted with Lizzie and Zomblaze about their favorite restaurants. B could still see the way Skizz’s eyes lit up when given the opportunity to talk about his husband’s interests. He still remembered the feeling of Skizz’s lips pressed to his temple as he said his goodbyes.  

And he still remembered Skizz wearing his hero outfit when he left the conference room- a nasty gash on the pleasant memory, reminding BigB of what would happen next.

The sandwich still sat on his desk, untouched. It had long gone stale at this point. He wasn’t hungry, anyway. He hadn’t been for days.

—----

Lizzie asked him, unprompted , if he was alright when he entered the agency that morning, stopping him in his tracks. It took B a moment to process her question, and even longer to notice her furrowed brow. He followed her gaze to the long scratch along his bicep, dried blood flaking across his skin and closing the wound. B had completely forgotten about it.

He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten it exactly. His memory from last night was hazy, blurry. All he could remember was the scarlet running down his arm and dripping onto the white tiles of the bathroom floor. A clumsy injury while cleaning, perhaps?

He had never ended up bandaging it, too tired to even give it a second glance. 

Lizzie snapped BigB out of his thoughts as she took his hand, gently turning his arm over for a better look and taking in the streaks running down it. There were dried drips on his pants. He supposed he hadn’t bothered to change before heading to bed last night- or leaving the house that morning. 

“This isn’t healthy , B,” she whispered out. He could hear the way her voice trembled. 

He didn't have the strength to meet her eyes. 

“...What’s new?” He couldn’t help but scoff. 

B was glad they were alone in the small breakroom, he did not want to have this conversation in front of their coworkers. 

Lizzie’s pinched expression quickly transformed from worried to determined. “You can’t work in this state, BigB,” she sighed. “I’m taking you home to patch you up, and then you’re resting- whether you like it or not!”

The man barely had time to open his mouth in protest before being literally dragged back out the door. His objections fell on deaf ears, though he didn’t know what else he expected. He knew Lizzie well enough to know that once she was set on a goal, she’d never stop until it was achieved. 

Her and her spouses’ home wasn’t far, it was much closer than his and Skizz’s. B vaguely remembered overhearing a conversation in the break room a few years ago- something about when the Honeybees were buying their first home together. It’d been not long after the three got married, if he recalled correctly. They’d picked the house for its proximity to the Agency, apparently. 

…He couldn’t remember where he was going with that.

Their house was almost as suffocatingly empty as his, now, though. Lizzie had lost Joel as well, almost a week after B had lost Skizz, and about two weeks after Etho. Heroes were dropping like flies all around the city due to the Boogey. No progress had been made to find them. 

He felt bad, of course, but it wasn’t like there was much he could even do. He didn’t do field work, and Lizzie’s spouses’ trackers had been destroyed soon after they’d gotten infected. They’d left little to no evidence as to their current location.

He couldn’t help them- just like how he couldn’t help Skizz...

Lizzie led BigB up the stairs, mentioning something about a med kit. He didn’t hear it over the anger bubbling in his ears. 

He couldn’t save any of them.

Of course he couldn’t.

"I don't need your help, Lizzie," he couldn't keep from sneering out, ripping his hand from her grasp. Latent rage boiled in his chest. He was a grown man, he could handle himself! He didn’t need Lizzie to take him home and clean him up like she was his mother!

She gripped the bannister, turning to face him with the same stubborn expression he'd seen on her countless times in front of her spouses. "Yes, you do need my help, BigB." He could feel her eyes falling to the long cut along his arm. He quickly moved to cover it. "We both need help. We need all the help we can get." 

B suddenly found the stairs beneath his feet extremely interesting. 

Lizzie sighed, her tone softening. "...Listen," she stepped down to his level, gently taking his hands in hers. He still couldn’t meet her eye. He didn’t want to. "We're both going through a hard time right now. It’s not good for us to push people away in our states- especially each other.” B’s heart broke slightly at the small crack in her usually strong, if a little uncertain, voice.

He surprised himself when a watery laugh escaped his lips. "You may be right, but that doesn't mean I like to admit it." 

“I’m usually right.” 

B could hear the weak grin in her tone.

The rest of the walk to the bathroom was draped in a slightly awkward silence, neither one able to look the other in the face. B couldn’t think of anything to say. What exactly would he say? ‘Yeah, sorry about your spouses possibly being gone forever- my husband is, too!’

That didn’t seem like a good conversation starter, did it?

“...Do you want to talk about it?” Lizzie asked quietly as she bandaged his wound. He couldn’t remember sitting on the toilet lid, nor his coworker pulling out the medical supplies. The world had started to blur out a long, long time ago. 

“No.” Even though BigB knew she would understand, he couldn't. He couldn't talk about it without breaking down. He had a mask to hold up, even if she'd already seen it crack. 

He wasn’t sure he’d be able to put it back up if it came down. 

She seemed to let the subject drop. 

Lizzie ended up leading him to her room and forcing him to sit on her bed once he was all bandaged up, demanding he finally get some sleep. He was too mentally weak to protest. 

She turned to leave the room when given no response, but was stopped by a hand grabbing her arm. She struggled to slip out, but B’s grip on her elbow didn't waver, though he did loosen it so as to not hurt. "If I’ve gotta take a sick day, you do too," he grumbled, and Lizzie could already see his eyes drooping. 

Her eyebrows furrowed together. He’d seen that too many times today. "No, B, I can't. I've got to make progress on this case, I-" Before she could let out another half-baked, hypocritical excuse, Lizzie was dragged forward onto her own sheets. 

"Nope!" 

She sat up quickly, her fists balled into the honeybee-embroidered blankets. “If I find this monster, I can bring our spouses back-“ 

BigB finally sighed, looking her in the eye for the first time since that morning. Her rambling, uncontrolled train of thought was way too similar to his own. He’d spent days convincing himself that he should give up his needs in favor of doing anything he could to help Skizz, but he knew it wasn’t good for him. He knew, yet he couldn’t gather the courage to stop. At least, not on his own. “We can’t help them if we’re exhausted… no matter how much I don't like to admit it... we've gotta take breaks, Liz." 

She giggled wetly after a moment, relaxing back into the pillows. "Are we gonna ignore this advice and go right back to the unhealthy habits once we wake up?" 

BigB's smile was strained as he responded. "I expect nothing less."

—----

B jumped at the loud bang sounding throughout the empty conference room. His head shot up to find Lizzie standing across the large table from him. She’d dropped a large stack of papers on the wood, looking pretty proud of herself. 

It was pretty weird that he hadn’t noticed her come in- he must’ve been caught up in his work. Where the heck did she come from?

“This is all the info I’ve found on the Boogey so far,” she explained, rolling a chair back and plopping down. The hero kicked her feet up on the table confidently, which put a slight smile on B’s face. He didn’t realize how much he missed Lizzie’s big ego. 

“Seems like a good place to start,” he hummed, leaning over to drag the pile to his side. “Though, most of this will probably be stuff I’ve already looked over- no offense,” he sighed, twirling the end of his pen between his teeth in concentration.

Lizzie shrugged. “None taken. You’re probably the nicest supervisor I’ve ever had,” she snickered. 

BigB let out a bit of a half-laugh to let her know he’d heard her quip, though most of his attention was absorbed by the information he’d been given. He was right about it being a good chunk of stuff he’d already seen, either from looking over other people’s research or from doing his own. One did catch his eye, though.

“There’s been more sightings?” B raised an eyebrow at the police report detailing some civilian’s story about purple sludge and a suspicious figure. Seemed to be in some part of town that had been abandoned a long time ago. If he remembered correctly, it had been evacuated due to a gas leak and never fully recovered. Most of the buildings had been left to rot.

Lizzie nodded vigorously. “I’ve been triangulating sightings to try and pin down a possible headquarters of the Boogey- or wherever it may have come from. If it’s a lab experiment like some are theorizing, it could be returning to where it was made after its prowls!” 

B’s eyebrows raised. “I… never thought of doing it that way before….” Gears were already turning in his head, half-formed ideas of how to use this information surfacing in his mind. He tapped his pen against the table rapidly with his success. “Lizzie, you’re a genius!”

The hero grinned with a faux confidence, though he found a hint of genuine pride in herself at his words. “You know me- genius of the agency!” She giggled. 

He stood up quickly, shutting his laptop and grabbing the documents he needed. “Do you mind if I take some of these?” He looked back up to his coworker, holding up a few of the papers he planned on snatching. 

Lizzie shook her head, though her eyes were slightly wide. “Take all you need.”

“Thanks-” B barely got the word out between his racing thoughts. He gathered all of his items and headed out the door, making a beeline straight to his office. This could be a breakthrough.  

—----

He woke up in the hero agency. 

It was way too warm in the small, cramped room he was given years ago. Something about a "promotion" that gave him no better pay and a shit load more to add to his plate. Light streamed in between the closed blinds from the sole, tiny window at just the right angle to hit his eyes. 

B didn't remember falling asleep. 

His laptop had been closed at some point, which he assumed was done by someone else. His suspicions were confirmed when he spotted a water bottle left on his desk. The sticky note on it read, ‘Hydrate or Diedrate! -Z’ 

B wiped a bit of drool from the corner of his mouth, a smile creeping across his lips. Zomblaze must’ve stopped by after he’d fallen asleep. She didn’t like to admit it, but she cared about the people at the agency- Well, some people at the agency. BigB supposed he’d been added to their list. 

He ran his fingers along the fabric falling from his sides. That was new. 

A blanket had been draped over his shoulders while he slept. It was covered in embroidered honeybees.

—----

BigB’s heart was beating out of his chest.

His leg bounced up and down furiously with his pent up anxiety. Lizzie, Zomblaze, and that vigilante, Phoenix, they’d recruited had just left the conference room- leaving him with the biggest breakthrough of his career.

They’d identified the Boogey. A young girl named Gem, the profile had said. She was, quite possibly- very possibly, his way of getting Skizz cured. 

The idea seemed too good to be true. 

Zomblaze and Lizzie had gone out to track down Gem’s brother, Scott, and get any information they could about helping her. From what the trio had recounted, it sounded like she had been infected herself rather than being the cause of the infection. 

B’s mind was racing with possibilities.

Having Skizz back might be closer than he thought. 

—----

Zomblaze had burst into the conference room, making BigB shoot up from his chair. “Do you have any information?” He couldn’t help but shout. Volume control was the last thing on his mind at this point. 

She nodded quickly. “I have terms for a compromise.”

B’s memories blurred after that. 

He’d agreed to Scott’s terms with barely a second thought. They seemed reasonable enough, and he was desperate- anything to see Skizz again- hell, he’d probably risk his own life if that meant Skizz would be safe. His thoughts were racing. He hadn’t been this close to having his husband back in weeks- he’d begun to lose hope. 

Hours of paperwork, discussions, and frantic texts with Zomblaze turned into one big blend of moments BigB had already started to forget while he was experiencing them. Only one thing remained a constant in his thoughts. 

Skizz.

He drove to the hospital Gem had been admitted to the next day (Was it the next day? He wasn’t sure anymore). B was sure that driving in his weird, trance-like state definitely wasn’t safe, but he ignored it. Skizz was so, so close- He couldn’t give up now. 

Flashes of front desk nurses and sterile, white walls swam through his head before finally becoming a clear image of the door to the room Skizz was being kept in. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for the handle, hesitating for a brief moment as it hovered over the doorknob. Why was he nervous? Scratch that- he knew exactly why he was nervous. 

What if they couldn’t cure him?

What if they couldn’t save him?

What if he–

Gem being admitted to help with the infection came with no guarantee that any of her victims could be saved. That any of them could survive. There was always the possibility that attempting to cure them could just as well kill them. It was all up in the air. 

B took a deep breath, the nurse’s gaze on his back burning into his very being, and opened the door. 

The room was dim, barely any light besides the faint blinking and screens of machinery. The distinct rumble of a ventilator filled the room, accompanied by the rhythmic beeping of a heart monitor. 

And there, in the middle of it all, laid his husband. 

It was hard to recognize him beneath the large amount of purple goop pulsing over his skin, but it was definitely Skizz. BigB could recognize that tousled hair and unkempt beard anywhere. The familiarity almost buckled his knees, but he held strong. He had to be strong. 

He wasn’t sure what else he could be.

—----

It had taken a few hours for news to arrive, but B had never been more relieved.

Gem had been brought to a stable enough condition to start ridding patients of infection. The nurse had said that they were prioritizing healing heroes first, and B almost cried with the weight that lifted itself from his chest. 

Skizz would be okay. Just a bit longer. 

BigB got his first look at Gem besides her outdated profile when she entered the room. She looked awful, which he couldn’t blame her for. Being the main infected for so long had practically turned her into a walking corpse. Her cheeks were pale and sullen, and her orange hair was so brittle it looked like it could be snapped in half. B’s heart went out to the poor girl. 

Skizz’s healing process was… horrific. But when it was over… there he was. His husband, conscious and breathing and alive, sat right in front of him. It took everything in B’s power to keep himself from trembling with relief in front of the love of his life. 

He was able to keep his mask intact when Skizz panicked over the IV, his fear of needles kicking in as strong as ever- even after almost dying. He was able to keep his mask intact when the two were left to reunite and just be together after so long. He was able to keep his mask intact when they picked up their usual banter on the way to the parking lot only an hour and a half later, thanks to Skizz’s inhumanly-fast immune system. 

He had to stay strong for Skizz. 

Skizz was the one who had gone through this, not him. If anyone should break down, it would be his husband. He had to be there to support him if needed. 

They kept up idle conversation on the drive home, B catching Skizz up on all he missed while hospitalized. It was so familiar, yet so unfamiliar all the same. Skizz’s crooked smile, the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed, even the stupid, loveable way he talked- it was all too much. The moment didn’t seem real. The casual domesticity he’d missed so much had just been… returned to him so nonchalantly. 

He almost expected the universe to be pulling a trick on him- that he’d look to his right and find Skizz gone again. 

But he was right there with him the whole drive home.

—----

Skizz was still there when he woke up in the morning. 

Having him back was... weird. 

BigB hated to admit to himself how used to living without his second half he’d gotten. Waking up every day to an empty bed and a cold home became his new normal, after a while. 

Skizz did his best to hide how he felt, but BigB could always see right through him. Skizz felt guilty. Guilty for leaving his husband behind to pick up the pieces. Guilty for not being there when B needed him most. He'd always put too much on himself, his heart too big for his own good. 

B could tell that Skizz was still tired, despite what he said about his powers making it better. He'd been home for a few days, and his recovery was still in the early stages. He couldn’t walk long distances, and manual labor was out of the question. Skizz insisted he was fine, but the deep eyebags he fostered said otherwise. 

B didn’t blame him for being practically bed-ridden, but something in him was… resentful. He longed for normalcy. He wasn’t bitter at Skizz, gods no, just at their situation. He prayed for his husband to have a fast recovery.

—----

The sweet, chocolatey scent of BigB’s favorite cookies, a fragrance he could always pinpoint, was a nice surprise when he walked in the door after a long day at the agency. Something seemed… off about it, though. Almost… sour? He quickly shrugged his shoes off by the door, padding over to the kitchen to peak inside.

Skizz sat on a bar stool in front of the counter, facing away from the doorway. He was hunched over something B couldn’t quite make out, muttering to himself. Both he and the kitchen were dusted in a thin layer of debris from what BigB assumed was a baking fiasco. A tray of misshapen, over-cooked “cookies” sat on a tray atop the oven, still steaming (or smoking, rather).

“Skizz?” B asked softly.

The man in question jumped, swearing in shock, and turned to face his husband. “B- Boppers! When’d you get here? I didn’t hear you come in,” Skizz rambled out, frozen like a deer in headlights. It was obvious he’d been trying to surprise B with his favorite cookies, but it hadn’t worked out. He found it strange, though. Skizz had perfected that recipe years ago, hadn’t he?

BigB made his way over, placing a hand on Skizz’s shoulder to rub circles into the skin there. “Just got home,” he hummed, twitching the corners of his lips up into a soft, if not tired, smile. “Whatcha makin’?”

At his question, Skizz visibly deflated. “Well, I tried to do something nice for you and make your favorite cookies,” he nodded toward the open cookbook he’d been scanning. “Thought I couldn’t screw it up,” he sighed, rubbing a hand across his face, “but it all fell through,” Skizz admitted in a mutter, hanging his head. “Had to resort to pulling out the recipe book to remember how to do it right. Turns out I just made you charcoal!” 

B got a good chuckle out of that remark, at least. “I don’t mind, hun,” he promised, running his fingers through Skizz’s untamed, wild mess of hair. “We can just make more- together this time.” 

“Back hurts,” his husband whined, pressing his head into BigB’s chest. 

B’s eyebrows furrowed. “When did that start?” This was new- part of Skizz’s recovery journey after being comatose for so long. It was concerning to say the least, considering Skizz’s powers, but neither of them had yet to bring up their worries. 

“After I’d been in here cooking for an hour,” Skizz mumbled, letting out a mirthless chuckle. “M’ back and feet still hurt, even after I sat down.”

“That's okay, baby, the thought was enough.” BigB leaned down to press a kiss against Skizz’s crown, smoothing out his flyaway hairs. “How about we just get cleaned up, yeah? I’ll deal with the kitchen, you go take a shower.”

Skizz hesitated for a moment. “I-....” He paused, sighing. “I took my ring off to bake, but I can’t find it anymore,” he admitted. It sounded like he was almost worried, as if BigB would be mad at him for losing his ring. 

That was concerning. 

B hummed to himself for a moment. “That’s alright- wanna look for it while I start cleaning up?”

With Skizz’s nod as confirmation, the two split to do their parts. BigB took to dumping the unsalvageable lumps of borderline ash that were supposed to be cookies. He was tempted to make a joke about the state of them, but decided now wasn’t the time. Skizz was obviously upset, and there was no need to make it worse. 

He’d just started to get the water going for doing the dishes when Skizz’s frustrated muttering emanated from the other side of the kitchen. B glanced over to his husband. “You alright?”

The man groaned in annoyance. “I can’t find this stupid thing!” He stood up from his hunched position where he’d been checking under the counters, throwing his hands up in the air in exasperation. 

B set the dirty mixing bowl in the sink, turning off the water. “Want me to help look for it? You can go-”

“I don't need help- I can do this myself, I'm not an idiot!" Skizz snapped, his hands splayed against his face in the way that told BigB that the situation had really upset him. 

Almost as soon as the words had come out of his mouth, his husband was already apologizing. “...I’m sorry, B, I didn’t mean to yell at you.” Through his shame, Skizz made his way over so he could wrap his arms around his partner’s waist and bury his head into the nape of B’s neck. 

BigB squeezed Skizz tight around the shoulders, making sure not to touch him with his hands, still dirty from the dishes, and rest his chin atop Skizz’s head. “It’s alright, baby, you’re frustrated. You’ve been upset with your recovery, you’re not used to it. I understand.”

Skizz took a deep breath, pulling back to look BigB in the eye, even through the tears he was trying to blink away. “I…” His words faltered for a moment before he took a deep breath and picked back up where he’d left off. “I felt bad for not even being able to do something simple for my husband after all you’d done for me. I know this recipe is important to you, and I wanted to make it as… as an apology for being gone.” 

A silence settled over the kitchen with the admittance. If B’s heart hadn’t shattered before, it definitely had now. 

BigB blinked away tears of his own. He cupped Skizz’s face, ignoring his dirty, wet hands, and pulled the man into a fierce kiss he hoped conveyed all the reassurances he could muster. It was sweet and chaste, and when he pulled back he ran his thumb along Skizz’s cheekbone. “You’re too sweet,” B whispered, a watery laugh escaping his lips. “Now, let’s go start that bath, ‘kay?”

—----

Their bed had never been more comfortable. Something about not noticing things until they were gone, something BigB was far too bad at poetry to explain. He didn’t need poetry to simply bask in the love spilling from every part of his being, though. 

He and Skizz were sat up beneath the covers, B rubbing his husband’s shoulders. Skizz had mentioned something about them being sore from his cooking earlier as they crawled into bed, and BigB happily suggested to help. Skizz had always said he gave the best massages, anyway. 

“...I missed this,” he murmured, half asleep, into the back of Skizz’s neck. He hadn’t even realized he’d started talking before the words came out of his mouth. 

Skizz was silent for a moment, probably expecting that B would continue, but decided that wasn’t the case. “Wanna elaborate, hun?” He asked, and BigB could hear the smile in his tone. 

B hummed to himself for a second, trying to form his words in his foggy, sleep-clouded brain. “I… I missed just this- this domesticity,” he sighed, struggling to come up with the right phrasing. “Something simple, like this quiet night where we’re just… together.”

Skizz shifted to face him, taking BigB’s hands from his shoulders to hold in his own. “Aw, I missed you too, sweetheart,” he cooed, cupping B’s face and pressing their foreheads together. His tone was light, yet his words brought a heaviness to the air that hadn’t been present before. A heaviness that held all the unspoken apologies, explanations, and conversations too hard to bring up between them. 

Now that the topic had been broached, BigB was urged to keep going. There was an opening he could finally fill.  "I-I missed hearing your voice... it would get so lonely hearing nothing but my own lungs-" His voice wavered, and he could feel Skizz’s arms moving to embrace him in one of his signature bone-crushing hugs. “You weren’t there to- to pick me up after bad days, or make me smile. Everything was so empty without you- Just- gods, I missed you so much, Skizz.” B surged forward, wrapping Skizz as tight as he could around his middle, almost as if he was scared of losing him again. He couldn’t lose him again- he couldn’t, he couldn't, he couldn’t- 

A moment of heavy silence passed between them before Skizz spoke again, "...I may have been the one infected, sweetheart, but you were the one who had to live with it. Your suffering isn’t negated because I'm struggling too.” 

Something in BigB broke at that, the tears finally flowing freely. Years worth of effort to build up a perfect mask of calm collectedness, broken with just a few kind phrases. Was it unfair, or had it been a long time coming?

“This isn’t my battle to fight, Skizz,” he choked out in reply, pulling back and taking in the man’s concerned expression. “You were the one who was injured, not me. You were the one affected by this. You still are.”

Skizz reached a hand up to wipe away some of the wetness from B’s face, blinking rapidly himself. “That’s not true.” His usually strong voice came out a whisper. “I was asleep the whole time, for goodness sake. If anyone’s taken this hard, it’s been you, B. I may be dealing with the after-effects, but you had to deal with the grief.”

B couldn’t even respond, his ability for speech taken over by heavy sobs. Skizz was right, though, wasn’t he? BigB had been denying himself the ability to grieve through his belief of not deserving it- all of his pent up emotions finally breaking through his carefully crafted dam. 

Skizz took his heaving as an acceptance, running a careful hand through BigB’s hair. “It'll be difficult, Boppers, I know it is, but I love you and I’m here for you. We can heal from this trauma together, okay love?" 

Together. 

They were together.

After all this time, maybe, maybe things would be alright. 

They had to be alright, after all.

They had each other.

And that’s all they needed.

[nia1sworld]

RTV AU: THE RTV!PUZZLEVISION TOUR [Part 3.5] (RTV! Nia’s POV)

@rtv-puzzlevision-studios

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

‘Oh hell…this is so messed up!’ I thought to myself, there was mad chaos in the studio!

I jump and summon my wings (Yes my RTV sona has demon wings) flew, everybody start hearing rumbling noise. there where a lot of people!

“What are YOU doing here?!” Said the Meme Gaurdian

Grinnames (@grinnames) was standing next to me and Lilith (@liliththequeenofdemon) turned into a huge dragon in front of .. 'Woah…she’s huge’ I thought to myself.

“LEAVE!” he said

The Meme Guardian is surrounded by everyone! Magic, Weapons, everything and the security blocked to door exit, I hold my Pink and Grey axe.

“You don’t understand, I’m not the bad guy!!!” SMG4 said getting chocked…SO HARD. “Listen, if you just let me expl-”

SMG4 got….PUNCHED SO HARD!!! I was terrified, but then I noticed that Rekkit was coughing (@untitled14360), I flew her in my towards my arms and I landed her safely!

“You okay?” I said, Rekkit nodded her head and said yes, we run fast to catch up with the others.

(Okay basically a meanwhile but…y'know)

“I see you’re still showing up in places you clearly shouldn’t be.” Lucian said, while holding a gun “Hands up.”

When 4 was gonna do it, several participants are standing forward next to the meme guardian and the Puzzlevision staff.

Some people wanted to protect Four from getting arrested by the staff.

“They aren’t going to budge, Lucian.” Animsay FINALLY said “Take a look around, are you really going to fight all of them?” She continued.

Lucian looked around the room, he is ready…for a fight, but not these kind of fights

Looking at tack of Swag and Chris who looked similarly clueless on the situation Lucian sighs loudly

“Stay down.” He told Swag and Chris. “You can’t be serious!”, Swag exclaimed, Chris told Lucian it’s not their job but then Lucian pauses at him saying it’s his job, but not to hurt us…the tour participants.

“Are we just going to let him walk? He just fried our boss!” Swag said.

Lucian tells the whole group to calm down for a second “First of all, I need someone to check on the boss. Don’t touch his head, just make sure he hasn’t kicked the bucket yet.”

“Nira! Where is Nira? Please, get over to Puzzles.” Said Lucian. Nira (@niranutcake) goes and checks on Puzzles to see if he’s alright, I’m very worried about all of this.

'Oh..god, oh god, oh god’ I thought to myself freaking out. Rekkit puts her hand on my shoulder, I said thanks to her but…I turned to Puzzles worried. The intercom is crackled on and the new voice sounded through the building.

“Dear employees and visitors, we are currently facing a vermin problem. Until the issue is resolved, the whole building will be going on lockdown starting now.”

“Wait…what does he mean by that?” I said..out loud. The echoing sound of things shutting and locking down told the group that the rest of the studio.

I soured to the ceiling and flew down at the door, I tried to open it…but it’s locked………

'We’re trapped’ I thought with a fear expression, as I backed up and turned around with a fear expression and yelling at the top of my lungs at the ceiling “LIFT THE LOCK DOWN ALREADY!!!”

Then, a twist of faith everyone and everybody, an AI (Without supervision) knocks the living Christ out of me..cold..I got hurt….very bad

“I object, partner.”

'Ngh' everyone turned around shocked in terror Hayley (@entityarts) and Messy (@messydoodlesyt) run towards me picked me up.

'Oh My gosh are you okay?!' Said BunnyBot (@selfshippinglover) I nodded and said yes. The screen flicked and there is a before is a showcase a turquoise silhouette a white line one there face...this man, is reveal..to be none other than Wr3n. RTV Disallowed Wr3n to show himself by his avatar to everyone and everybody.

Hell...I was schocked to see him…just like..this

‘Holy Shit!!! SHIT!!!’ I thought and swear to myself

“If you want me to lift the lockdown, you have a choice.”

An arrow points at the screen

“Option 1: You take out 4 over there and I will give you a free pass! Tour is over, the problem solved, you all can go home!”

'Free pass? Going home? Why?’ I questioning myself, but..going home?

“Option 2: You wake up the big boss and he can decide what to do with you.”

'Helping…Puzzles…’ That might be a good thing…but…I wanna know what the 3rd option is

“Option 3: You outlaws do neither of those and we can enjoy playing a game of tag. I’m sure I can take care of this whole issue myself within the hour! So, choose wisely. Happy trails!”

Wr3n said as the screen turns back to the Puzzlevision logo.

'Playing….TAG?! He can’t be serious’ Playing tag…was not my thing at all!

Lucian had eyes in shocked, but..he turned around to the group. He explains that we had differences and without Puzzles….the security system may see us as an actual danger. I was terrified and totaly scared.

“I will leave the choice on what to do up for you to decide. We need to work together here not against.” Lucian said, we have 3 options Arrest SMG4 after all, get Puzzles to the Health Department, try to reach security or make our best run to the exit.

But…..Do I really have a choice? I…guess I do

GAAAAAAAAHHHHH, I'm such a mess up for making this, I'm SUPER SORRY FORGIVE ME, I'LL MAKE A THOUSAND CHANGES

[morningstar-and-eve]

MEMO FROM MORNINGSTAR & EVE

LEAD STAFF OF THE MORNINGSTAR MOTEL*

*Technically, the Morningstar Motel is just a hotel. However, Charlie insisted on calling it a motel because it “appeals to the masses” and also “sounds better.” —Vaggie

Welcome, dear visitor, to the Morningstar Motel! As the hostess and founder of the finest venue in Pentagram City, I am honored to welcome you to my hotel. Still, the Morningstar Motel is not a mere hotel. It also serves as my personal project, where I invite sinners such as yourself to abandon your sinful ways in the hopes of redeeming yourselves in order to ascend to Heaven. I, as well as my fellow staff members, are excited to see what progress you make at our establishment. We at the Morningstar Motel wish all the best for you and your redemption! Sincerely, Charlotte Morningstar, Princess of Hell & Founder of the Morningstar Motel

Look, I get it. I wasn't exactly happy to turn up here, either. But Hell is no bed of roses. If you're looking for a safe place to spend your days before the next Extermination, the Morningstar Motel is probably the best place you can go. As for redemption...well. I can't say that's something you want. I don't know if that's even possible. (Don't tell Charlie that I told you that). But becoming a better person can definitely help you out in the long run. I know there's a lot I have to improve. Best wishes, Vagatha Eve, assistant manager of the Morningstar Motel

(ooc faq below the cut!)

Q: What is "Morningstar & Eve"?

A: "Morningstar & Eve" is a blog I (@rebelcracker-s) put together to collect various thoughts and creative works corresponding to a Hazbin Hotel rewrite/AU that I've been working on as of late.

Q: What is the plot of "Morningstar & Eve"?

A: "Morningstar & Eve" follows Charlie, the ambitious princess of Hell who hopes to redeem sinners in order to gain a ticket to Heaven, and Vaggie, a fallen angel who has to aid Charlie in her plan while keeping her identity as a former Exorcist a secret. While the two originally butt heads, the two eventually bond as they learn that their beliefs about Heaven may not be true. In the meantime, new threats abound in Hell—threats that may hurt everything that Charlie and Vaggie hold dear.

Q: How will the story unfold?

A: Currently I have a couple of drawings made for the AU & a lore document I'm hesitant to share. In the future, the story of the AU may be conveyed through art, fanfiction, comics, etc.

Q: Is this AU supposed to be an improvement on the original show?

A: NO.

Q: Why is [X] different in this AU compared to canon?

A: "Morningstar & Eve" is an entirely self-indulgent AU, so a lot of character details, personalities, motivations, etc. have been drastically changed from the original. Again, this isn't meant to improve on the original show; instead, it's meant to be a fun way for me to play around with the source material.

Q: How do you answer other questions about the AU?

A: My ask box is always open, so you're welcome to ask anything you want about characters, lore, etc.!

[halos-top-alien-model]

Sangheili Bracket Finals

Special propaganda below:

Thel's mind was still on the textual transmission sent to him when a sudden visitor broke his train of thought. It was one of his staff, letting him know that Admiral Lord Hood was making a sudden call request. Already suspecting what brought that on, he gave his approval. Only a few moments later, he was connected to Lord Hood via small holographic messaging - and couldn't even get a greeting out.

"I sincerely apologize for the overreach in boundaries that intern caused. I swear, the unauthorized decision to send that does not reflect at all what the UNSC stands for, and we greatly respect our alliance with the Sangheili."

Thel raised a hand. "I can perfectly see that, Lord Hood. For what other reason would your people be holding an... 'popularity tournament', if not out of respect?"

The grim line Lord Hood's mouth formed suggested there were other reasons, but Thel chose not to pry. Although, admittedly, it did make him curious on just how somehow could intend disrespect over a popularity contest. Perhaps because the nature of only one winner could be seen as an insult to all the losers? Even if most Sangheili did not particularly care about humans' opinions on themselves - either as a species or as individuals - it was probably safe to keep this secret, just to be safe.

"Civilians can take matters down... interesting routes, on social media," Lord Hood continued. "It was already a trend to run these contests over everything imaginable. When someone got the idea to do this with all the known Sangheili individuals, it was decided to hold off on addressing it. No need to bring further attention to it.

"But no one could've imagined someone trying to actively bring it to your attention."

He was clearly mortified. A bit embarrassed, too. And while Thel would love to throw him a bone and allow him to quickly put it out of mind, there was a thought he just couldn't leave unspoken. It was all that had been on his mind in between receiving the "tip" on the contest and Lord Hood's call.

"I see it as a compliment, that so much of your population can see me - and others of my people - so positively, in spite of how young our alliance is. There is one piece of feedback, though, that you could perhaps forward to... 'social media', on my behalf."

Thel could almost swear the shading of Lord Hood's holographic face got brighter, lighter in color. "I can try and pull some strings. Depending on the message."

Leaning closer on his desk, resting his elbows on the surface and interlocking his hands, Thel began, "I can understand why so many humans would vote for me in the case of a popularity poll. I am the one with the closest relationship to your kind, with the most cases of notable - peaceful - interactions, outside of my Covenant career. I am possibly the only Sangheili much of your kind even recognizes on an individual-level.

"But I must make a case for my opponent, Rtas 'Vadum. His leadership and diplomatic abilities surpass my own. He has a way of connecting with those hostile to him in ways I have yet to replicate - the Prelate that initially sought personal vengeance being one such example. It is the reason I trust him so much with the task of searching for the lost San'Shyuum - he is perhaps the only one capable. Capable in finding them and capable in forging peace. And while I am sure his crew are loyal to the Swords of Sanghelios, if they ever had to choose between myself and their shipmaster, I am also sure what their choice would be. And he has earned that loyalty.

"I also must point out his accomplishments - which hold less awkwardness than my own, particularly in the context of relations with humanity. He is the reason the Flood did not infect my fleet at the first discovered Halo, emerging the sole survivor of a perilous situation. His actions at the second Halo, I truly believe, ensured the strength of the Separatists that went on to aid humanity. It was him that did a lot of the rallying, it was him that claimed the crucial Shadow of Intent, and it was him that held our forces together in my absence. Again, his ability with words were valuable in maintaining morale, during the final hours of the Covenant. And his tactical mind, in emerging victorious when the odds were 3-1 against him.

"In conclusion... I feel the victor in this little contest should be him. Not me."

As Thel had explained his reasoning, Lord Hood had crossed his arms, eyes intently focusing. Maybe not necessarily on the Arbiter. When he finally had the opening to speak again, it seemed that he had become the one who couldn't help but let a pressing thought out.

"Really? Him? You're arguing he is the better leader, military man, diplomat - than you? And humanity should recognize that?" His arms uncrossed and went to his sides. "Do you know that to some, laying even a finger on Earth is more egregious than glassing dozens of colonies - even glassing Reach?"

"That is why I said less awkward." He should have braced for this skepticism, especially from Lord Hood. After all, he and Rtas did have a verbal spat that one time. Perhaps Lord Hood could never forgive Thel, but he certainly could maintain peace around him. There were valid reasons - not related to duty - as to why those two's paths never crossed again. Surely, Rtas would feel a bit of the same - he was not apologetic for Africa's partial glassing back then, he certainly wouldn't hold any regrets now. Not with anything related to the Flood.

"Although..." He sighed. "I can see why having a Sangheili other than you receive positive recognition is diplomatically valuable. If the peace between our species is centered solely on you, then it risks falling apart as soon as you're gone."

"Yes... there is also that angle to this."

"I will forward your argument to my colleagues and leave the choice up to them. They're the ones who deal with civilian matters more, anyway."

A funny thing about jointly occupied territory, is that it sometimes meant alien access to humanity's Waypoint - the interstellar network where the current iterations of social media called home. Such access would mean becoming aware of discussions of aliens online - including a certain popularity contest. And such awareness might warrant, to some, the passing of knowledge via word of mouth or transmissions. Even if no one directly told the Arbiter about the contest, it would have reached his ears eventually.

Just like with the Arbiter, there were those curious as to what Rtas' reaction would be like, and it thus reached him, too.

"Of course the Arbiter would win their approval," he said. "He deserves it. His higher reputation amongst humanity aside, he deserves it. He is the Arbiter, the one who freed our people from the Covenant's lies, the one who resurrected the Swords of Sanghelios, the one who proposed the Concert of Worlds. There is nothing I could do that he could not do better.

"Why is this even a contest? Amongst humans, no less? It was his word that kept me from glassing their entire planet, just to stop a Flood outbreak. It was his word back then that caused many Sangheili to ally with humanity, rather than fight both the Covenant and humans. It is his word now that continues to keep many Sangheili from seeking another war. Because he has proven his wisdom, and he has proven his honor. Those who continue to doubt either are fools that hold our people back. And their leaders cannot even match him."

"Well, hold it right there," Stolt, one of his most prominent subordinates despite being an Unggoy, cut in. "Have you seen the rest of this? The Arbiter is trying to convince these humans to vote for you."

Admittedly, he barely even started. When he saw it was nothing but a meaningless popularity poll human civilians were running, he stopped giving it much thought. Partially, it was due to already being convinced of the outcome - that the Arbiter would reign supreme and he would hardly been given notice. The only reason he wasn't questioning the fact that he was even named in this poll in the first place was due to there not being very many notable Sangheili in the human public eye, as far as he could tell. But he and the Shadow of Intent had played an important role in the end of the war, after the alliance had been forged. It wasn't completely out of the question that he garnered a bit of human attention over that - and not just from ONI spies.

It also wasn't out of the question that the Arbiter would speak of him around humans and make them more aware of his existence... such as now. He skimmed through what had been sent until he reached that part, quickly absorbing it.

Then he shook his head. "He is far too humble. A good chunk of this is mere exaggeration. How he even got the impression I was this grand, I have no idea. I am only doing what he asks of me to the best of my abilities. He deserves no less than that, and that does not make me superior. He would excel at all the same tasks had he the time to do them - it is only I who succeeded, because someone had to in his place.

"Besides, he is forgetting some of his own accomplishments that have nothing to do with humans. When he first became Arbiter, he passed his first mission with flying colors. I honestly did not expect him to even survive, pulling off the stunt he did - selflessly cutting the safety cables of that mining facility to draw out his target, while allowing all my men to retreat to safety. He did that knowing I would not come back for an Arbiter - he did it unaware that anyone would."

"Ah, but that was a mission to kill 'Heretics', right?" Stolt said again. "I'm sure the bitterness of knowing they were right all along and didn't need to be killed is why he would never even think that a merit."

"The target is irrelevant. The sentiment of his actions is what matters." Leaning back into his shipmaster's chair, he continued with a softer voice, "And he is wrong. About his talent for speech. And Infinite Succor... The fact I was the only survivor should say enough regarding my leadership in that moment. And the fact I was able to go back into the field, to command troops again... should say enough regarding his ability to speak to those under him. He has earned more loyal soldiers than I - and not entirely because he meets more people than I."

Clearing his throat, his voice hardened again. "Take the colony of Om'a'Varo, for instance. Those who settled on Rak. I believe it is not just him being humble that he's selling himself short - he takes the cases where his words are not enough to be a failing on his part, and not the failing of the other's mind. There are some who will just not listen. But he has gotten many to do so."

"So what I'm hearing is... we need to send in our own message to the humans to counter his?"

Rtas huffed. "That will not be necessary. Even with his endorsement, the humans will still choose him. I am certain of that. In the time we could draft a pointless transmission, we could be using our time and systems for more important tasks. This conversation, too, holds little worth - the only value being a stronger reiteration of what is already known."

With that, Rtas was finished with the subject. Well, almost, maybe. It crossed his mind to maybe, instead of sending his passionate argument to the humans, sneak a bit of the sentiment in his next report. Not obvious enough to distract from the report's actual content, but subtle enough to let the Arbiter know fully well that Rtas had heard him - and strongly disagreed.

[adventures-on-foster-island]

Summer Camp Guidelines

Hello staff and campers! It is a beautiful day to be welcoming so many visitors to the island, and I hope you all enjoy your stay here. There are a few things to keep in mind over the next two weeks:

Foster Island has a tropical climate, meaning that the temperature and humidity will be very high. Remember to keep yourself and your team hydrated, apply sunscreen regularly, and take breaks indoors or in the shade as needed. Bring NeverMeltIce for your ice-type and other cold climate dwelling partners.

The caves and sandbar are off limits, except by guided tour with a staff member for your own safety. Rising tides flood the lower cave levels and swallow the sandbar every day. Please do not let your recklessness ruin everyone else's time.

There is a loose curfew of 11 pm. All guests should be indoors, or settled into a campsite, by this time to avoid late night accidents. This allows our staff to take necessary breaks and be rested to help you during the day.

Food is served in the cafeteria from 6am to 11pm, with breakfast and dinner services from 7-9am and 6-8pm respectively. If you have allergies or other dietary restrictions, simply ask a staff member! If you happen to miss the open hours of the cafeteria all together, there are vending machines and microwaves in the common rooms of the main and housing buildings, and all fruit in the orchard and gardens are free to harvest and enjoy.

Worried about getting around the terrain? Ask about our available ride Pokémon and other mobility aids! All elevators, hallways, and rooms are designed to be accessible, however some of the outdoor features may be difficult for those with mobility issues, which is what our ride Pokémon and carts are available for.

Forgot something, or need other assistance? Visit the welcome center and let a staff member know. We will do everything we can to help you have a safe and enjoyable stay.

With your participation, we can make this week safe and fun for everyone! Thank you all for your cooperation!

[monsterliker]

I would say that this takes place after BOTW but before TOTK. Hopefully this is good, give me your thoughts and suggestions^^

The defeat of Ganon brought a new hope for the future of hyrule. The townspeople celebrated the demise of the one who had tortured them for a hundred years. However, not all was well.

Zelda, having faced the hero of hyrule, needed to find her other hero. The one she had cherished as much if not more than her knight.

Before the calamity, and before Link, Zelda had a close companion. Her name was (y/n). They had been childhood best friends, and as the two grew older they became closer than friends. Lovers some may say. But they kept everything behind closed doors because of Zelda’s father.

Every distraction Zelda’s goal of awakening her powers was taken from her. And she feared that her beloved would be taken from her too.

So every night (y/n) found their way into the castle, managing to hide from the guards and staff. Every night the two would spend as much time as they could together.

Now that Hyrule was safe, it was time for Zelda to find her beloved (y/n). Luckily Link, the only person to know of their romance, had briefly run into (y/n) during his quest. He however only briefly remembered her. The amnesia caused him to only know that Zelda was very close to the now aged woman.

“You saw (y/n)? Tell me where she is! Now! Please!” Zelda begged. Link was hesitant though. Knowing that (y/n)’s final days are close, and how it would break Zelda’s heart to see her lover now grown old and weak.

After some convincing (more begging), Link told her that (y/n) now resided in her home town of Kakariko Village. Before Link could warn her she was already running to grab her trusty steed. Knowing that nothing would stop her, he wordlessly followed.

Once they reached the village, Link lead the way to the house (y/n) had resided in for the years since Zelda went to fight Ganon.

Opening the door, the house is cluttered with the teeth of slain enemies, swords, bows, and piles and piles of drawings. Sketches of what seem to be Zelda.

Continuing to walk through the house, Link stands in front of a door. He seems hesitant to open it. Keeping his hand on the doorknob, he wonders what he should do. Should they both go in? Should only he go in to tell of Zelda’s return?

Before he could make his choice Zelda pushed him out of the way and slammed open the door.

There, she was brought to tears with the sight. Laying on the bed was (y/n). Her hair had grown white, her smile lines more defined. Everything about her had shown her age, but also her strength. While she was now frail, barely heaving her chest up and down as she breathed, she was also decorated with scaring. Scars from her battles trying to help save Hyrule.

The noise of the door bursting open had woken (y/n), and she slowly opened her eyes to see who her visitor was.

(Y/n) hesitated, choosing their words carefully. Zelda and Link both stood as still as statues, not sure what they are waiting for.

“I never thought I’d see you again, my love. You look more beautiful than I could remember,” she spoke slowly, having to a straining sound to her voice.

“It’s been so long, I’ve forgotten your face, no matter how hard I try to remember it… and I am not a great enough artist to capture your likeness onto paper.”

Tears began to run down Zelda’s face. “But I am here now! I will never leave you again! I promise you we can finally be together,” she cried out.

(Y/n) smiled and motioned for Zelda to come sit on the bed. Which she did. Grabbing each other's hands they sit in silence, basking in each other's presences.

After a while of comfortable silence, (y/n)’s weak grip strengthened a tiny bit. “We all know my days are numbered. I’m just happy that I got to see you one last time…” she said with a weak smile. Even after a hundred years they had the same smile.

“N-no! There’s got to be something we can do! Purah can do something! Right, Link?” Zelda turned to Link who has been patiently standing in the doorway.

His expression fell as he shrugged. The reverse aging had worked on her, but who’s to say it’ll work on (y/n)? That’s even if they get to the lab in time. Long travel would be hard on the aged (y/n), so they would have to go slow. And with her days as numbered as they are, nothing is guaranteed.

“Just spend what time I have left with me, my princess,” (y/n) said, bringing the attention back to her. “Please, my love. I’ll always be here in spirit. You have so much more to do. More important things. Build a better Hyrule in my memory.”

Zelda started to cry again, throwing herself onto (y/n) and sobbing into their chest. “But I need you! I wanted to rebuild with you by my side!” She cried out.

All (Y/n) was able to do was rub her back in an attempt to comfort her. “I will love you, always and forever. No matter where my soul may be.”

(Y/n) lived for couple days. Their days of life filled with happy memories that will be cherished for the rest of Zelda’s life.

She told stories about her battle with Ganon’s minions, and the Yiga clan. (Y/n) was not a soldier or knight by any means. But she still tried her best, and made as big of an impact as she could. She was well respected and taught what she could, always having hope that Ganon would be defeated and she would be reunited with her princess.

These stories would be retold by a tearful Zelda at (y/n)’s funeral. And every chance she got she would put a silent princess at the grave where (y/n)’s body would rest. Forever in the field of Central Hyrule.

Her grave doubled as a memorial site not only for herself, but for all those who were lost trying to rebuild after the calamity.

Zelda would one day be buried next to that memorial, next to her lover. The two lover’s souls finally back together, for the rest of eternity. Never to be separated again.

[dreamerswriter]

Playful Land: A Ferris Wheel of Concerns and Questions

Are we just in the parks in California, USA? This is definitely not Florida.... That is a good thing at the moment...

What?.....

Oh.... no..... No.... Those are children.... those donkeys are kids.... This is the carriage that takes Pinicchio to the park..... No....

I really wish it was you during your war days.... I don't feel safe now....

I really don't like any of this.....

...... Do not come near me.... I really don't like this....

Oh, so we have a phone plan? How do we have that? Who is paying for that? This... raises a lot of questions....

I honestly love the ferris wheel. I always love riding it with my partner and friends. It is such the sweetest and funniest ride for me. Yes, I am a wimp when it comes to roller costers, but that should be obvious since I love Idia.

Well..... You're not bothering me, so that's ok!

Ok, that's actually kind of cool to name this after the stars that Pinicchio and Gepptoo wanted to wish on and achieve their dreams with.

Well, at least we can see everything. Hey! it is California! Well, I am going to Nintendo World. See ya guys. This is what you get for following a stranger. If the cat doesn't follow me, then you can look after him.

I am grateful that this is Geppetto and not Moby Dick... I don't know why since either would be interesting in this situation.

I imagine the puppet is an Ortho situation to them. I don't know why they are so confused about this.

That's kind of wild. I know Idia's homeland exist, but does this mean this technology is just out there for others to use? I don't know how you can get this....

This feels like Splash Mountain..... I don't like this..... Also, again, Sora and Riku fighting the whale...... I miss Kingdom Hearts....

He started a fire and then coughed them up! An important detail! At least, that's what I think.

Yep.... You would do that.....

Well, I am not doing it, so you're going on it for the both of us.

I am actually a fan of gravity.

Well, fastpasses are a thing. That's fine, but this is a thing at the park. Sometimes the staff will let certain visitors go in first or have special seatings. It is a thing.

I...... Never mind... Forget what I said.... Ya'll don't have a moral compass at all.....

Ok, so I am not worried for the former war general and Ace. I will not last and neither will the cat. I have some hopes for Trey and Cater. Trey used to do with his siblings while Cater is Cater who would do it for the meme.

[ciaossu-imagines]

Could you write something, you’re allowed to choose the format, of Namba going through a zombie apocalypse?

C

Of course I can! Thank you for sending this in, since I mentioned having a lot of ideas for this that I never thought I'd get the chance to rant about and now I can! I hope you'll all enjoy the ranting!

So, the zombie apocalypse comes to Nanba Prison. There's a couple ways I could see it happening. One way it could go is that a visitor, or even one of the prison staff or guards, could unknowingly have gotten infected on the mainland. Maybe they had a random and bizarre experience with someone already zombified and they blamed the encounter on someone just being high on bath salts. Maybe the food they ate carried the virus needed to create zombies. Whatever way it happened, they unwittingly got exposed to whatever makes people turn into zombies and then, when they did get onto the island, the virus really took hold and they went full zombie and started attacking. While that initial zombie was probably put down and put down relatively quickly, they managed to do some damage and spread the virus to at least a couple more people, who then spread it to a couple more before they could be killed and so on and so forth until it's getting more and more difficult to keep up with putting them out of their misery.

Another way it could happen? It could definitely be an experiment the Otogi's were working on together that went terribly, terribly wrong. I think I prefer the first one a little better, just because in this kind of scenario, the Otogi's would either become some of the first to go zombie or just straight up get killed and that really puts Nanba in a real tight spot as to whether anyone survives because they really need their healers and researchers.

Now, in a way, Nanba is the perfect place for the zombie apocalypse to really break out. It's not only inescapable but it's pretty impenetrable, not only with the high walls and security feature but by the simple fact that it is an island. There's only one way on, one way off really. I think that's something that was banked upon during the first initial outbreak, when things were getting bad but still seemed to be under control. Momo ordered all forms of transportation to the island to cease temporarily but overall, the guards figured their strength and diligence alone could prevent it from spreading.

When things started to spin and the zombies started getting more plentiful in number, too much to easily control and take down, Nanba goes into full lockdown mode. Each building is quarantined, much like how we saw Building 5 during the Enki arc. Travel between different buildings is forbidden and the guards are given the orders. Squash this zombie uprising, protect your prisoners, and prevent any prisoners from trying to escape.

In headquarters, Momoko is in charge, overseeing everything, and really tries to keep a handle on the situation. She plans and oversees this as the commanding chief of an army would and believe me, she puts her army to good use.

Of course, she's only able to do that because Mitsuru is also locked safely in headquarters with her. If it wasn't for Mitsuru's communications and technological skills keeping all the different buildings connected and updates kept coming at hourly intervals, Nanba would likely have fallen completely.

Of course, the Otogi's and KAGU-8 are also within headquarters, commanding their teams in a joint effort operation to figure out what the hell is causing all this, to find a cure for it, and to figure the best way to get that cure out to everyone who might need it.

KAGU-8 actually comes in incredibly useful as well because, as a robot, she is immune to becoming a zombie. She goes out of the building whenever it's deemed safe (as in, she won't let anything in and they know she can't transmit the virus back to them as it's not anything skin to skin contact), acting in a variety of manners. Not only can she give them a better view of the actual situation outside of their building, but she can act as a go-between and aid various buildings in need of support.

Because animals also seem to be completely immune to being turned zombie, Kyakuya, Hiiragi, Tsubaki, Sazanka, and Kikiyou also help KAGU-8 in those kind of roles and they're also a valuable source of intel for Building 4.

And Building 4? It makes itself useful. Not only is Yozakura exceptionally strong and more than capable of taking down a single zombie, but he is a very smart man and knows how to research and investigate. Musashi actually is allowed out of his cell, though he must still be closely supervised every minute, under the orders of the Warden, to help as that is something Musashi excels at as well. Building 4 really dedicates itself to helping Headquarters' research and investigation team as much as they possibly can. Even though Hitoshi isn't really the most skilled at research, they help by taking care of the others, rationing out food while still making sure everyone is fed, and really taking over the supervising of the other guards and the overseeing of the prisoners.

Speaking of food, it becomes clear after the first week or so that travel must be established between the different buildings so that rations and provisions can be shared. Not only that, but after the first building or two fell due to zombies, it became apparent that staff needed to have a way for backup to reach them in case things did start to go bad inside a building.

While Momoko and Hajime will definitely need to have a meeting after this whole thing is over, it's really Building 13's time to shine when it comes to finding ways for the Buildings to safely travel between each other. While Jyugo and the others normally keep their travelling within Building 13, Jyugo has probably snuck around to other buildings without Hajime or the boys noticing, just because he could. And with the inmates of Building 13 really being given a little leniency, and the blueprints to Nanba, it's a walk in the park for them to figure out, test, and secure safe passage between the various buildings. Anyone going between the buildings must be accompanied by a Guard, and honestly Building 13's supervisors and guards have the best reputation and everyone wants them to accompany them. The pure amount of just stupid levels of strength and combat that both Yamato and Hajime have make them more than capable of taking on any zombies that come their way. Seitarou and Tsukumo, meanwhile, actually have really fast reflexes and a kind of stealth that makes them really talented at going safely in between the different buildings and at leading groups between buildings.

Building 3 finds their purpose during the apocalypse in several ways. Not only do Honey and Trois team up but they also team up with Ruka under the supervision of Kiji and start to produce various weapons and battle plans and tactics. Honey often collaborates with Building 4, Uno, and even the Warden herself on one occasion when it comes to tactics and plans. But they also do something else that proves useful as the apocalypse wears on. The communications channel gets turned over to Building 3 once a day, where Kiji or other staff from Building 3 just spread positivity, remind everyone of why they're fighting, assure them that things will return to normal, and remind everyone that they also need to take care of themselves. Shower as often as you can, make sure you get your beauty rest, don't forget good skin-care and little mindfulness breaks, just to keep yourself looking and feeling the best you can. After all, if you look and feel good, you can conquer anything, even a horde of zombies.

Building 5 tends to be the building most everyone counts on to actually go out and put those plans and tactics into action. They're really the front-line soldiers of this battle and not without very good reason. Not only are the guards of Building 5 exceptionally physically and mentally strong, but it's inmates are normally quite physically strong and talented fighters in their own rights. Even Qi gets drafted, becoming a sort of combat medic and he's the one to test the zombie antidote, each time the Research Team thinks they have perfected it, out in the field. Other inmates and guards from different buildings do back them up whenever possible, but they are really the ones in charge down on the ground.

[newtafterdark]

Please release the black mold theory

I'll do my very best to keep this as short and as coheerend as possible - which will be a feat because Dan & I came up with the details of it throughout hours of going through the "Welcome Home" site.

The "Black Mold Theory" focuses on the black-ish growth that is both visible and referenced in one way or the other on several main- and hidden pages... and how it is a harmful entity towards everyone in the Restoration Project, the puppets & everyone who is interacting with "Welcome Home" in-universe, even just the smallest amount.

Now, why do I call it "black mold" specifically? Well, it looks, behaves and causes harm similarly to black mold in real life.

But with a conscious entity behind it.

The current events start with the WHRP crew receiving items that were part of the production of "Welcome Home" - with the first person to handle them remarking that everything "feels wet".

This continues as more people get brought in to help restore or simply file away art, photos, writing, merch, vinyl records... with now even a proper rule being put in place to "not touch any item with bare hands".

While that is a common rule for handling any old and damaged thing you're trying to restore... it is worrysome that the WHRP are very instant on that rule, as it is something the restoration folks would do so anyway.

Then... look at how the exibition looks like on the "Staff Only" page.

(Please go look through it yourself, it is so well-made! https://www.clownillustration.com/staff-only)

The walls are overgrown with a dark substance, looking either red or blue but mostly black, with clear hand prints on the walls and splatters of it on items & WHRP folks' notes-

It's on so many things, even seemingly pouring out of the safe from the inside. A safe that is seemingly holding old production items that were supposed to be given out as random prizes to the exhibition visiors.

And then there's the entity on the ceiling. You know, the blue-ish black mass clinging to the pipes and more notes by the crew, its fuzzy tendrils reaching out to hold itself in place on said pipes.

To observe? To watch as visitors touch the items that looked so prestine in the daylight, only to be shown to be contaminated with something when the lights are off? To now know that people are carrying parts of it our into the real world and into their own homes through having had hands-on contact with all the items present?

That is horrible enough for the people who touched it in real life - but... what if I told you that we have seen this thing in Home as well? Or more like... under Home?

When the "Welcome Home" site first went online, the mass on the Characters Page below Home looked like this. Something in the depths barely aware of the attention on it as we look into the dark abyss it's in.

Now, after the most recent update? Oh, the abyss is looking right back at us. And the black mass around it is growing as well.

The mold is actively spreading from under Wally's house, leaving him to deal with the brunt of its influence on the world he lives in.

Just how it is in the Real World, it is in the World of Welcome Home. As above... so below. Like the spiral imagery both Wally and the WHRP crew keep sketching on little notes.

Now... here is the part where I explain in detail why I call this thing "black mold" -

I've had to deal with the influence of black mold on the human body personally... and too much of this haunting entity reminds me of it.

The way black mold grows out in webs and clusters... how it thrives in wet and dark places - something that 100% happened to the items that the WHRP crew got their hands on, because old things rarely get stored in a way that keeps them from receiving lasting damage, especially water damage-

-and what it does to the human brain. Auditory halucinations (the phone ringing to one of the WHRP folks), visual halucinations & nightmares (perhaps the same member recalling a nightmare (?) of them seeing Wally sit at the end of their bed with a phone that kept ringing), sneezing (it's what the moldy bolders of the "Staff Only" page are named too), coughing, nausea, migraines, troubles with breathing, flat-out fainting... and heavy memory issues.

Everything we have seen the WHRP crew deal with... or, at least the person who is writing the newsletter, who also seems to be the person who opened the parcel that started all this - is not just happening in the Real World either. It is happening in Home too.

Memory issues are something Wally himself is dealing with as well, as we can see from the Guest Book sketches he left us so far. He can't seem to remember his past with everyone else in Home, but at least he still remembers that he loves all of his friends dearly & thinks about them a lot, even if he can't reach them right now.

We can hear the difference in Wally's voice recordings as well. To me, there is such a noticable difference to how he sounds in the actual show recordings (when things were still okay™) compared to the soundbits we have gotten through the bugs.

In those, he sounds like breathing is hard for him and like his focus isn't entirely there. Which is something that can happen if you're spending too much time in an area with high humidity, even without mold. It's exhausting to deal with and I feel so sorry for Wally, because he can't physically leave Home right now.

... now, we could leave the horror at that. This is already a dire situation for everyone in-universe.

But... what if this has happened before? What if the mold has spread so far throughout the country (or even other parts of the world) by speading itself through merchandise? And, remember - handling just a bit of something infected with it makes you forget so much already... would forgetting the entire show existed be so out of place now?

It got so much attention and so much of itself out there in the few years so much merch was produced by the Marlow company...

And look at what we're doing now. The WHRP is powered by people with their hands stained with the mold... and we keep spreading it further and further.

With every sticker we get told on the homepage to put on our own homepages, with every fanart, with every type of creative project related that we share online in so many places...

Meanwhile, Wally and his friend have no control over any of it. What can a being made of fabric, locked away in a dark moldy place do? There is no sunshine to dry the mold out. All they can do is yearn to be let out into the light as they try living and surving as the mold is trying to fully taking hold of them.

(It also is interesting how the Sally's house in Home is the only one with lights still on inside too, while everyone else's is dark. Is symbolism of light enough to keep the mold away at least in the world of Welcome Home?)

In my & Dan's opinion, the black mold is using Wally and the others like the puppets they are, Wally especially, because he is the face of the whole project after all.

Perhaps it is even taking advantage of now unfortunately ongoing thing with "mascot horror" on the internet, by focusing so much on him, but that is admittedly a reach on my part.

A last fun thing (genuinely, I'm having so much fun with these horror theories) to think about in combination with this theory that it is mold that wants to spread through merchendise-

Well, the new Makeship plush would be quite the addition to the storytelling of this, wouldn't you think? :)

This is the best way I can explain Dan's and my theory, though I am sure I might've forgotten smaller bits that lead to us crafting this theory. I don't think I will talk more about it because I rather observe than make up things for "Welcome Home", but theorizing with friends is always fun!

Again, this theory is based only on a few things we have gotten shown through the site so far, there is still so much Clown and their team want to show us, so please do not take this theory too seriously!

I for one will be genuinely excited if I have to throw this theory out the window after the next update! I am simply here to enjoy a beautiful and haunting story made by so many skilled folks! :>

[freakscircus]

got my trip film back this morning - i shot an entire roll at weston hospital, formerly known as the trans-allegheny lunatic asylum in weston, west virginia. weston hospital is no longer a functioning hospital and hasn't been since the 1990s. weston was bought by a wealthy family in the area for the purposes of turning it into a location that could be open to the public. the owners tore down any condemned outbuildings or wings of the hospital that could not be repaired. everything else was fixed up to the point where the hospital looks abandoned, but there is no debris or danger and it is safe enough for visitors. they offer multiple tours - my partner and i opted for the longest tour, which was about 90 minutes of basic history about the hospital and access to all open floors.

i have mixed feelings about TALA/weston. there is a small town built around the hospital, and clearly the town was at its peak when the hospital was still in use. tourism is clearly the main driver to the town now, supported by the asylum tours. the tour we took was okay... the tour guides are quite knowledgeable but they are open that they are not historians or experts on the asylum, and honestly with what they are paid they should not be expected to be. the history tours are sparse - the main draw are paranormal tours, halloween parties, and to my horror there are karaoke parties held in a large room that used to be a communal women's bedroom, similar to photos you may have seen of dozens of women crammed into a space filled with single cot beds.

i understand that it would be highly unrealistic to expect this space to become solely a landmark dedicated to remembering ableism or psychiatric abuse inflicted for over a hundred years. undertaking research done by trained historians is not sustainable and employees with that training would not do minimum wage tour work. the hospital is expensive to maintain and constantly falling apart which requires employing a full time maintenance staff. the big draw is booking the space for events or having people flock to pay for ghost tours. i also understand that not many people are interested in an academic style tour that breaks down the history of the hospital from a disability studies perspective. i understand all of that. but it just feels so wrong to hear a harrowing story about the lobotomies performed here and then in the next breath hear about the parties that corporations throw at the asylum for the spooky novelty. maybe i'm a giant hypocrite myself being icked out then photographing these spaces to post online. i don't really know what the answer is. i suppose i'd rather have this space saved but exploited as opposed to being completely torn down.

i guess my one wish would be more academic work surrounding the hospital. i looked up weston/TALA through my university's academic journal page and there is not one in depth scholarly article about it. there are, however, many ghost story and paranormal books and chapters on the hospital written by laypeople. if i wasn't exhausted trying to write an entire book-length dissertation on a completely different topic, maybe i would try to undertake it myself. there is fascinating disability studies/disability history work being done in canada on lakeshore psychiatric, which was the largest psychiatric hospital in the country. i wish the same would be done for some of the asylums that dot the south. i don't know.