#no last name im still workshopping it

[mikaelsrose]

Ask Game: What is Niamh's favorite animal and what is Cal his favorite animal? And Xander? Do they have a pet or want to have a pet? Cat person or Dog person?

Ask Game: What is Jude's favorite animal and what is Tyril his favorite animal? Do they have a pet or want to have a pet? Cat person or Dog person?

I would love to get to know more about your characters. Also, sometimes I'm confused who Tyril is currently dating... Jude, right?

It's gonna be long, so I'll put it under the cut

Okay, so before the events of Nightbound, Niamh was more of a dog person, though she never had one. In Lamrian she got the Perrikin (that's what it's called, right?) so I'd say she converted into cats/supernatural animals 😂 in my fics she goes full on Daenerys and fosters some dragons. She hates snakes, that's for sure.

Cal on the other hand has quite a problem with animals, imo. Idk if that's canon, but I imagine he gets hissed at all the cats (like a witcher lmao) and dogs are very wary of him. I think living in the chaos of the bayou, he has no time or will to own any animals, but he does get along with the Perrikin!

Xander, just like Niamh, is very much a dragon person. He's the one who introduced her to dragons when she got to Crystaval, and he's one of those who care for them in the capital.

Jude and Tyril are very much against animals, haha. Jude is allergic basically to anything furry, and Tyril is too stuck up to care for anything other than himself 😂

The dating situation currently looks like this: before Tyril and Selene met, Tyril dated Jude in secret when they were 15/16, then he dated Adeline for 10 years. When he broke off the engagement he met Selene, they went on the trip, then they split (beginning of September) and that's when he went to Jude after a decade, and now we're here. In the second part there's a kind of time jump, Tyril goes to see Selene but it's months later. What I'm currently writing is the short period between September and May (if I remember correctly) when Tyril went back to Jude. It's complicated, I'm sorry, that's just how my brain works 😂😂😂

Honestly, all I can say is that Tyril is a slut (good for him) cause he's trying to juggle three people at the same time (Jude, Selene, and Adeline).

[aro-ortega]

josef, after being kissed by chen: yeah im probably gay but i have a corrupt government to topple and need to get the truth out there so i dont really have time for that right now

[bumpscosity]

I think whats worse is i have 3 build a bears that need new birth certificates and theres no way I can just walts in there with all 3 of them at once meaning I have to take at least 2 trips to a place I rarely go thats an hour away

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || hoody

SMUT. MINORS DNI. 18+. remember when i talked about this hoody fic 509 years ago? yeah here it is. also yeS i am aware masky & hoody belong to marble hornets this is the only time im going to address this💀 we are in 2024 in this fandom WE KNOW. anyways enjoy !! <3

If there was anything you could’ve changed about your life, you had a particular decision in mind.

Being a desperate college student for cash, babysitting and dog walking wasn’t paying the off the debt you were accumulating.

You had scoured Craigslist, confident that there would be an odd job you’d be able to accomplish for quick cash.

Looking back you wish you had known quick cash wouldn’t come easy.

A posting offering $5k a week fell into your lap about a week later. The details seemed easy enough. The ability to clean an older mansion, whilst keeping the identities of the multiple infamous residents that resided there a secret seemed like a piece of cake.

What the posting didn’t list, was that the infamous residents were unhinged killers. Some of which you couldn’t even categorize as human.

It also didn’t list that your position would be residing in the mansion, permanently.

Being a maid in the Slenderman mansion was, in lack of better words: fucking terrifying.

The residents operated at odd hours. No matter what time you cleaned, you always received the displeasure of running into someone.

The longer you stayed, the longer paranoia began to settle in. Ben Drowned, the poster of the Craigslist ad, was a perv. You learned to stray away from electronic devices he could peep his head through. Jeff the killer, one of the most unhinged, had a short temper. He was one of the first ones to opt out of having his room cleaned by you, a decision you silently praised after walking by and seeing how filthy it was.

The next to opt out with a demonic creature named Eyeless Jack, one who specifically requested you stay out of his medical lab. Given all of the blood and goop you had mopped up at this point, a fear of being eaten led you to offering to clean it regardless. EJ knew you wouldn’t be able to handle it, given his ‘hobbies’ were the most gore filled of the mansions residents. It didn’t surprise him when you left the lab green, puking immediately in a bucket he had placed beside the door for you.

The other members whose names you were obligated to memorize, Jane, Clockwork, Jason the something maker, all were rarely home. You learned to steer clear of Jason’s workshop, the dolls he made often speaking to you as if they had souls. The only three other residents who lived in the mansion full time (minus its owner), were what you learned to be proxies. These proxies, two of them at least, seemed to be human just like you.

Ticci Toby’s mortality was still up in the air for you. He once had tripped and fallen after you had mopped the floors, landing on the marble face first. He got up like nothing happened, giggling to himself about ‘how wet you made the floor’. After observing him throw axes in the training room, you decided to steer clear of him.

Masky seemed to be the trio’s leader, his face consistently hidden behind a doll resembling mask. He avoided you like the plague, skipping the formalities and acting as if you didn’t exist. You never asked questions, not knowing how long anyone had truly been here. But Masky in particular seemed a bit older than everyone, when you accidentally stumbled upon him coming home late one night from a mission. His nose was trailing blood, his mask broken in half. You ensured to avoid eye contact, but extended a wet washcloth to him so he could attend to his nose.

After that your dynamic remained the same for the most part. Except when both of you occupied a room together, neither of you made an effort to beeline to the door.

Hoody was the last proxy, the one that made you more at ease than the others. Hoody had spoken a grand total of maybe ten words to you, introducing himself and Masky before dashing out of the back door. The only time you really saw him was when you cleaned his room, the man doing a poor job of pretending to read magazines while you cleaned. Other than that, you only caught glimpses of the proxies when they came home in the late hours of the night from missions.

Most of the time they were soaked in blood. In a couple of odd occasions you had to assist them in carrying one another up to Eyeless Jack’s medical lab. You couldn’t figure out why the proxies were here, two humans not seeming to fit in with the rest of misfits that resided here. You had no idea soon enough you’d be up close and personal.

Late night was when you preferred to clean, most of the killers away from the mansion and out hunting. The existence of the residents here only existed because of their dedication to keep their identities a secret. Night time was the perfect cover, for them and for you. You were leaning over the kitchen sink, scrubbing at a particular stubborn pot when you heard the back door open. You tried very hard not to stare, not wanting to gain unwanted attention.

You glanced up briefly, catching a glance of Toby’s and Masky’s familiar figures as they trudged upstairs. “He cost us that fucking mission, Slender’s gonna be so pissed off,” Masky growled, rounding the corner of the kitchen. Toby trailed behind him, an axe dripping blood slung over his shoulder. “Y-yeah, what w-w-was he thinking?!” Toby exclaimed, his stuttering something you had grown accustomed to. You noted Hoody’s absence, your eyebrows raising as you returned your gaze to the pot.

The sound of doors slamming echoed through out the other wise quiet mansion, the silence fulfilling you with some sort of ease. It didn’t take long for the final proxy to stumble into frame, his hand cupping his face. You weren’t forbidden from interacting with the mansions residents, your urge to help sweeping over you. Hoody was awkwardly stumbling, immediately leaning onto you for support as you helped him stay standing.

“I got it,” He huffed. His usual ski mask was half raised, the bottom half of his face revealed to you for the first time. His chin and upper lip had surprisingly clean cut facial hair, kept to a minimum. You guided him around the counter, helping him sit onto the kitchen counter by the sink. Hastily he shoved his yellow hood off of his head, yanking the ski mask off with it. You were surprised a normal human being stared back at you, a large gash sliced across his cheek.

“Jesus Christ,” You muttered. You grabbed a clean wash cloth, running it under cold water. “Didnt ask for your commentary doll,” Hoody said dryly. You swallowed, wringing out the excess water. You could’ve done what you did with Masky, handing him the washcloth and wishing him a silent farewell. But instead you didn’t. “Sorry,” You mumbled. You craved human contact, any kind of human contact. Brushing off your skirt you stepped in between his legs, leaning forward.

You were careful to avoid eye contact, focusing on dabbing the wound. Hoody silently winched under the feeling, inhaling through his teeth. As gently as you could you dabbed away the blood. “Do you want me to get EJ?” You asked. Hoody’s face was stone cold, from what you could see out of the corner of your eye anyways. “Dont bother, i’m sure he’s sick of patching us up all the time,” He grumbled. The wound didn’t look deep, just very long. Thankfully most of the blood was gone, the rest of his face covered in specs of dry blood (that you presumed to not be his) and dirt.

Turning on the sink you washed out the washcloth, the crimson paint drifting off down the drain with the water. You then returned to Hoody, wiping off his face. You weren’t sure what compelled you to be so compassionate, Hoody’s eyes fluttering shut. He took a deep breath, his shoulders seemingly relaxing. You were gentle of course, not wanting to piss the killer in front of you off. But even Hoody knew your action wasn’t callous.

Once you were done you awkwardly stepped aside, putting the rag in the sink. “You want a cig?” Hoody asked. He dug in his jeans, pulling out a beat up cigarette box. “Is this your way of showing gratitude?” You asked. The man in front of you smiled, extending you the box. “This right here is the only kind of buzz you’re getting around here doll,” He explained, allowing himself to half smile. You had never smoked a cigarette before, nor had you really planned on it. Not like it mattered now.

You put one to your lips like people did in movies, watching Hoody do the same. He pulled out a lighter, flicking it and igniting the end of his cigarette. You leaned forward, watching Hoody attempt to flick the lighter again. The flame refused to ignite, the sight of small sparks making him sigh. “Masky always takes the good lighters,” He muttered. He inhaled his cigarette, blowing the smoke to the right. You found the gesture of attempting to not violate you with smoke a little sweet.

“Well I appreciate the offer. I’ve never smoked a cigarette anyways,” You admit. Hoody shook his head. “That just won’t do then. Put it to your lips and stay still,” He ordered. You did as instructed, watching him lean closer to you. His fingers went under your chin, keeping your head held high. You felt your face beginning to burn, the end of his cigarette lighting yours as you inhaled. You both avoided each others gazes, until the second he began to back away.

For a brief moment you shared eye contact, searching each other’s eyes. For what? You didn’t know. You properly inhaled, coughing immediately. “You guys like this stuff?” You asked in between coughs, continuing to choke. Hoody nonchalantly took another drag of his, watching you struggle. “It’ll grow on you, trust me. I didn’t like it at first either,” He confessed. Once you regained strength in your lungs you properly stood up. Hoody remained seated on the kitchen counter, with you standing beside him.

“How long have you been here?” You asked curiously. You were stepping over a hundred boundaries, ones you could die for if you stepped over the line too far. “A while,” Hoody answered honestly. You took another drag of your cigarette, the taste of tobacco growing on you. “How long are you going to be here?” Hoody countered. You exhaled, glancing back at the proxy. He had exhaled through his nose, boldly making eye contact with you.

“A while.”

You found the courage to turn around, facing him fully. “You aren’t lonely?” You asked. Hoody gave you a smile, tossing the bud of his cigarette into the nearby trashcan. “I am, are you?” He asked curiously. You followed his lead, tossing the bud of the cigarette into the trashcan. If it set the kitchen on fire, it wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen. “Yeah I am,” You admit. Hoody slid off of the counter, his tall height towering over you.

“Do you uh, wanna change that?” He asked. For a killer who had a victims blood splattered across his face moments ago, he seemed so awkward. You wondered how long it had been since he had been with a woman. How long would it be before you could be with a man again? “Please,” You sighed. Hoody kissed you just as rough as you expected, both of you melting into the other. Both of you were undeniably needy, touch depraved and lonely. You were sure this was forbidden for both of you but as his tongue slid into your mouth, you just couldn’t find it within yourself to care.

“Call me Brian but only when it’s us, okay? Thats not who I am anymore but that’s who I want to be with you, okay?” Hoody asked. You nodded, the normal name bringing your comfort. Brian’s hand snaked down your waist, squeezing and kneading at the flesh of your ass. You whimpered into his mouth, the sound only making him harder. There was no telling how much longer you’d be around, the residents of the mansion unhinged enough to snap at any moment.

You couldn’t fully undress here and going upstairs was out of the question. “This has to be quick, we can’t get caught,” You whispered. Brian nodded, slipping his hand up your skirt. He rubbed against your wet cunt, your panties preventing any further stimulation. Brian had zero control over his life but he did right here, right now. You had no control over yours either, the decision to fuck each other to release steam the only free will decision either of you could make. You palmed him through his jeans, his cock practically busting through the fabric.

He guided you to the counter, grabbing the sides of your panties and yanking them down to your ankles. He shoved them into his pocket for what you thought to be safe temporary keeping. But Brian had other ideas.

“Fuck, please, wanna feel you Brian,” You whispered, trying hard to not groan loudly. Brian quickly undid his belt bringing his lips back to yours. It had been so long since he had kissed anyone, your soft lips driving him mad. It wasn’t long before his cock was at your entrance, awkwardly shuffling with his jeans at his ankles. He fell a bit backwards, causing you to laugh. “Fucking hell, sorry-” He began apologizing. You giggled, hopping off of the counter.

You brought him fully to the ground, pushing his back against the oven. “This might work better,” You replied, lowering yourself down onto his cock. Brian’s cock felt like heaven, your mouth falling open. Both of you let out a sigh of relief. You had no way to masturbate, no way to possibly release the stressful tension building inside of you. As you pressed your forehead against Brian’s, you realized that this was what you got. This was your outlet.

Brian’s gloved hands met your waist, helping you roll your hips. You let out a loud groan, one of his hands flying to your mouth. “Shh, you can’t make any noise,” Brian warned, your inability to stay composed only making him more hot and bothered. He took control, guiding your hips to ride him at a pace that worked for both of you. You were as wet as a virgin, your body yearning for more as Brian abused your g spot. Your sinful moans were muffled by his gloved hand, his other attempting to guide you.

He brought himself close to your ear. “If you wanna get off, you’re gonna have to ride me by yourself mkay? Do that and i’ll play with that pretty clit of yours doll,” He huffed, trying to control his own noises. You nodded yes profusely, trying to concentrate on grinding your hips against his. With his spare hand he found your clit, drawing sloppy circles around it. For a brief moment he was worried about his ‘skills’ not having slept with a woman in years. Whether he was good or bad at it, you didn’t appear to give a shit. You were still a panting mess, your hair sticking to your forehead from sweat.

Your walls clenched tighter around Brian as you felt yourself closer to euphoria, your eyes fluttering shut. With your forehead pressed to his you pawed at his hoodie, grabbing handfuls as your orgasm washed over you. Your sinful noises were muted by Brian’s hand, the muffled sounds music to his ears that he had made you feel that good. Your walls fluttering around him triggered his own orgasm, his cum flooding inside of you. He dropped his hand from your mouth, both of you taking a moment to breathe.

In a moment of true loneliness you leaned against Brian’s shoulder, ignoring the faint smell of dried blood and sweat. Unsurely Brian stroked your hair, trying to remember if that was comforting or not. He licked his dry lips, a bold question on the tip of his tongue.

“You wanna share a cigarette again tomorrow?”

[dev1lm4n]

all glory

masterlist | kofi (support me here!)

pairing: joel miller x f!reader

summary: joel has been feeling insecure, finding it hard to come to terms that he's indeed aging. tommy suggests a clever solution: a post-apocalyptic glory hole

word count: 4.8k of pure filth

warnings: minors dni (18+), post-outbreak, joel is 56 here hehe hot old men, insecurities, glory hole, fingering, unsafe piv, slight breeding kink, no pregnancy stuff tho cuz im terrified of that, reader calls him sir, pet name (darling)

note: i decided to create a kofi bcs im a broke college student lol. anyways hope yall enjoy this, do COMMENT and REBLOG if you enjoyed this :)

Joel Miller had always been a man of confidence.

Being left as a single father for Sarah at an early age, he’s been through thick and thin, trying his best to make ends meet so that they wouldn’t have to end up in one of those run-down shelters. But never once did he question his ability to attract women. 

He’s always had it in him. With a mere glance from his expressive eyes, he can ensnare hearts and leave an everlasting impression on anyone fortunate enough to encounter him. Rugged masculinity and striking refinement; a deathly mix that kept girls swarming after him like bees. After the world descended into chaos, he’s not much different either. Perhaps the bone-deep trauma had left him looking eternally exhausted with sunken eyebags, or that gray filaments started becoming a welcomed addition to his beard, but all in all he’s still charming.

He didn’t have to seek, because people seek for him. Joel had plenty of erotic rendezvous in times where society crumbled and the rule of law eroded, more so now that everyday could be his last and he didn’t have the privilege to take it slow like a true Southern gentleman. He’s done it everywhere. Inside a stuffy closet while hiding from a clicking monstrosity, behind a thin wall while her husband sat cluelessly on the other side, and even taking sexual compensation for his little business. Joel Miller wasn’t a saint. Neither he one for God and he’d like to make it obvious.

Nowadays though, within the tall foreboding walls of Jackson City, that type of attention has faded away. He’s no longer getting those longing stares from across the floor, no longer being begged to corrupt just for some extra wad of cards, no longer being flirted and fawned over like a goddamn stud. Joel didn’t have any problem with it at first. He’s growing old. Instead of those naughty strands of white peeking out of his head, he’s now a complete mix of salt and pepper. Instead of just having a fun smile line, forehead rolls and crows’ feet are now imprinted deep into every crevice. Joel wasn’t the man he used to be. 

He’s weathered away, he thought, unsuited for fun and adventure.

Perhaps it had something to do with his daughter as well. Even when Ellie’s not from his actual blood, everyone in town viewed her that way. He’s her father. Thus, everyone seemed to perceive and treat him as merely a father and not as an actual person that has his own needs and wants. Joel loved his daughter. Terribly so in ways he couldn’t decipher. A part of him has made up his mind that this would be how he should spend the rest of his life: in celibacy. Though the retirement of his sexual and romantic life has slowly taken a toll towards his self-esteem. Tommy, who’s always known to be rather slow and imperceptive, was surprisingly the first one to take notice of his gradual change.

“Maria told me you might be here.”

Tommy’s gruff voice brought him out of his trance. Joel looked up, meeting the familiar figure crouch to get into his little workshop. It was his newfound hobby these days, becoming a hermit and isolating himself from the community. He’d craft a wooden figure or two each night while he relived each and every one of his memories. Good and bad. Of death and of birth. Then by the end of the night he’d feel mildly satisfied with a wooden sculpture shaped like memorabilia from the old world. Joel couldn’t admit it outloud, but insecurity had taken over him. It festered deep into his soul that he couldn’t even bear looking at himself in the mirror anymore or present himself to society.

“Yeah, just..” he paused to ponder on a better way to answer. “Just doin’ my own thing.”

“You skippin’ dinner again?” Tommy’s curiosity sounded oddly suspicious, enough that Joel already knew he’s about to say something obnoxious or entirely uncalled for. The older quirked his thick eyebrows in return.

“Made myself my own plate,” Joel cocked his head towards where a lone plate sat. Judging from the crimson stain smeared on top, it must’ve been one of those canned pastas that he picked out.

“Brother..” Tommy started out, visibly nervous of how his brother would take it. “Is there something wrong?”

“With me?”

“Yeah, with you.”

“No, not that I could think of,” Joel hummed. “I ain’t bitten or anythin’, why are ya asking such a dumb question anyway?”

“You’re just different these days,” Tommy reasoned with a small frown. “You barely come out of your house and if you do, you’re huddled up in this place, carving things for hours on end.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong with wanting to be alone. Is there?” he challenged.

“No, but you’re.. different. Almost like your mind’s troubled for once.”

“There’s nothin’ wrong, Tommy,” he insisted.

Joel was actively avoiding the accusations. He stood up from where he’s been perched upon for hours on end, bringing his half-carved wooden slab with him to set it on one of the displays he had. He’s grown quite the collection. It’s been going on far longer than he’d expected, the crippling fear of being undesirable and hideous, and it brought up an immense feeling of embarrassment. He couldn’t possibly admit such things to Tommy, could he? Tommy was different from him. His first child was on its way to be birthed, but girls still chatter about his charming smile and strong figure. They’d still gossip and make dirty guesses about his size. How long he endured such activities, the position he enjoyed best, and how sweet he was to his partner.

Tommy couldn’t possibly understand his fear.

“You can’t help me even if I told ya,” he grumbled.

“Put some trust in me, will ya?” Tommy chuckled as he spun around his seat to follow Joel’s every move. “Tell me what’s troublin’ you, big brother.”

“They don’t look at me the same way.”

“Who doesn’t?”

“The ladies,” Joel muttered.

His words were barely above a whisper. It almost seemed as if he saw the phenomenon as something humiliating, up to the point where he couldn’t even look Tommy in the eye in fear of having him laugh. He’s never talked about this with anyone else. It didn’t help that he truly didn’t have anyone to talk to in general aside from the few acquaintances his brother introduced him to and well.. Ellie. But none of them seem to be the right person to talk to regarding this. 

Regarding his failure in masculinity. His unspoken worries that he didn’t have any of the strong, chiseled jawline or any of the tightly packed abdomen with six separate squares to admire. He’s grown old and weak. Five years ago, he could’ve probably still sweet-talk his way into a woman's heart, but now he couldn’t even look one in the eye without the fear of being put to shame.

“They still do, Joel,” Tommy assured him. He’s telling the truth. Joel knew that Tommy didn’t have it in him to lie, he’d have sounded like a strangled bird or a squeaky dog’s toy if he did. But his mind couldn’t believe it one bit.

“I don’t know, Tommy..” he muttered. “They don’t look at me the same way. They don’t look at me at all even.. and I’m fine with that I 'spose. I ain’t a whorin’ bastard who couldn’t accept that he’s agin’..”

“But they do, Joel.”

“I’m old,” he sucked in the air. “Lately there are these moments where I.. where I’d look a girl in the eye and all I could feel was humiliation.”

“Humiliation?”

“Like they’re lookin’ at me as if I’m some.. some sort of repulsive creature,” he whispered. “I feel like I could hear ‘em gigglin’ with their girlfriends on how shameless I am.”

Tommy was deduced into silence. Time ticked by as he cranked up his brain to figure out the best way to aid his older brother out of his misery. It’s all in his head, Tommy knew that Joel knew that as well, but it’s easier patching up an oozing wound than a troubled mind. He brought his hand together on top of his jeans as he waited for the younger to make another comment, whether of comfort or of a harsh reality.

“I’ll offer you a solution,” Tommy spoke up. “But you gotta promise not to lose your head over it.”

“It ain’t drugs, is it?”

“No, no..” Tommy chuckled humorlessly.

“I’m open to anythin’” Joel dropped his arms to his side as he curiously eyed Tommy.

“Have you ever heard of a glory hole?”

Joel’s expression contorted in such a way that the younger Miller couldn’t possibly read what he’s thinking any longer.

“I ain’t goin’ outside those borders just to go to some sketchy brothel, Tommy. That’d be pathetic.”

“Well, the thing is this whole operation ain’t sketchy,” Tommy reasoned. “The girls were tested and approved by the local doctor before..”

“Local doctor? You tellin’ me this is happenin’ within Jackson?”

“I operate it, Joel,” he sighed, knowing he’s about to be bombarded with a handful of questions. “And before you ask, no this ain’t considered prostitution as there’s no material exchange.”

“You mean..”

“Yes. The girls do it for free. Volunteers. They do it for their own pleasure and I help make their dreams come true.”

Joel looked at his own brother as if he was a mad man. Who wouldn’t? When he’s just told him that they had an actual glory hole installed without most of the public knowing. Or perhaps they knew, they were just not talking about it in front of Joel.

“Ten to twelve. There’s a small house across the sheep field. One girl every Friday night.”

“Jesus Christ, Tommy. Maria knows about this?”

Tommy shifted uncomfortably on the stool.

“No, but it’s better off she doesn’t.”

Joel felt his morals set askew for a second. This sounded like a terrible idea, despite the fact that he’s confirmed it himself that it’d be the safest a glory hole could possibly be. He scratched his beard and took it into deep consideration.

In the quiet stillness of a winter’s night, the world was wrapped in a soft, white blanket of snow. The moon hung low in the dark sky - a beacon towards those who chose to travel in the deepest hours of nighttime. Joel blew puffs of warm air onto his gloved fingertips, hoping it’d satiate the coolness that made his joints ache and his skin itch. The air was crisp and biting, each breath producing a frosty cloud which quickly amalgamated into the air. He watched as gentle snowflakes, alike to elegant ballet dancers, fell from the heavens up above and twirled and swirled into an intricate pattern. He’s been waiting for way too long.

“So what are ya sayin’? Are you gonna let me take you tomorrow night?” Tommy broke the silence.

Tommy promised to meet him on the edge of the sheep field, where they’d herd livestocks all throughout the warmer times of the year, but he’s yet to see his tall nose and dark hair from any of the cardinal directions. He’s been waiting for too long to keep the same mindset Tommy’s trained him into, that this was simply a beneficial exchange for every party involved and that he shouldn’t feel shameful for something so instinctive. Waiting gave him time to weigh out the cons, how this was naturally an act of debauchery that wounded both his moral values and beliefs. He ain’t a God preacher, but he’s sure to keep some of those Southern manners.

Maybe this was a bad idea.

None of Tommy’s ideas are ever well thought out. Starting from his sudden gravitation towards the military, to his desires to hand over his entire life towards the Fireflies, and now this. He knew his younger brother wasn’t the brightest of men, but creating an entire glory hole to keep the town’s morale up might be the stupidest one he’s heard yet. Especially when Maria’s not aware of it. He feared for the day when the beans spilled out of its jar, but tonight wasn’t that day. During the time in which he contemplated his decisions, Joel didn’t notice the crunching of snow against thick boots. Tommy was here and he looked far too calm for a self-made procucer.

Tommy beckoned him to follow the path his boots had made. Joel sucked in some of that painfully cold air into his lungs, before he stuffed his hands in his pockets and started trailing along. There were a few street lamps across the field, a ruddy glow emanating from them as they were adorned with a light dusting of snow. He kept his guards up while he scanned through the whistling field of crop, that traumatized part of him always keeping in check of abrupt movements and unsettling sceneries. After a quiet walk for a good three minutes, they finally arrived. The house fronts looked dark enough, and the windows even darker, contrasting with the smooth white sheet of snow upon the roofs.

There was snow piling up outside as well, dirtier ones whose last deposit had been plowed up in deep furrows by the heavy wheels of carts and wagons. He scrutinized over the tracks, wondering if this was meant to be used as a makeshift grain tower. If it was, then Tommy must’ve been a great scheming asshole to turn such a place into his own little heaven. Not one soul was around, which confused Joel even more. Wasn’t this supposed to be a public glory hole? Weren’t it supposed to be disgustingly packed with sweating men, adorned with walls covered in left-over spurts of cum and other bodily fluids, and smelled like sex itself?

Joel continued to pursue Tommy even when he’s overly skeptical about this entirely new scene. His boots were scuffed as he was dragging his feet through the front door, a fight against his defense system that’s begging him to flee out the door at the unfamiliarity. The establishment consisted of a long narrow hallway that eventually led up to an imposing door. Wooden, large, and mysterious.

To his surprise, what was beyond that door wasn’t some tacky sex dungeon with rattling chains and leather whips, it was a modest looking box. Square, he’d assume one meter wide and half a meter tall. He took in the wood it was made from. His pointer finger slowly traced the circumference out of habit. Oak, he concluded, making it sturdy and cool even in the warmer weather. What he failed to notice from the get-go was a pair of legs that were stretched open, chained onto the wall from the considerably-sized gap. Joel’s heart dropped to his stomach, he forgot for an entire minute what he was planning to do, and he’s starting to get cold feet.

“Darlin’, I’ve got someone for you,” Tommy cooed.

“You do, Tommy?”

Normally, people acquire hobbies in order to soothe their brief but occasional boredom, though you have discovered a unique way to tackle long hours of the night. This brilliant discovery of yours was birthed from a fated moment. One where you accidentally stumble across the conversation Tommy had with one of his patrol friends. It began a fantasy in your head. One you didn’t believe could come true until you overheard a passionate storytelling session one of the barmaids gave their friend. Only then did you gather enough courage to talk to Tommy about it. Despite his initial disapproval, saying things like you look too good and gentle to be doing such things, you managed to convince him with a week's worth of nagging.

“Mhm, one of my good friends here,” he hummed. “You’ll let him use you like a good fucking girl, won’t you?”

Goosebumps trailed from your backbone down to where your legs spread wide. Your nervousness made you flinch, effectively causing your legs to rattle against the metal restraints.

“Yes, I will, Tommy.”

When did you get so.. obedient?

“Alright then. I’ll see you in um.. twenty?”

“Thirty,” the foreign voice spoke up, masculine with a twinge of accent.

“Thirty it is.”

The entire room went quiet for an entire minute, only then did you finally hear the door slammed back shut. You swallowed back the throbbing fear in your heart, pushing back those persistent thoughts constantly warning you of the dangers. Even if you trusted Tommy with all your life, you didn’t trust the random strangers Tommy’s picked out. How could you trust them when you didn’t know who they were for sure? They could’ve been someone you see on the daily. The friendly guards, the cafeteria guy who’d always beam a sweet smile your way and give out more bread than standard, or even.. Tommy’s hunk of a brother. The same one who wouldn’t even spare you a look when you’re obviously sending heart eyes his way.

“Darlin’ is your name, ain’t that right?”

There was something so.. alluring about his voice. The type that makes your knees buckle inevitably, despite your best efforts to push it apart.

“That’s right,” you squeaked out.

“Darlin’, it’s been a long long time since I’ve done this, so let me indulge in you alright?”

“Okay,” you breathed out unsurely.

Your eyes instinctively followed the direction of the hushed voice, but all you could see from the dim box was a piece of dark fabric that was hung from above the hole. It was to keep your identity a secret so that the patrons across from you could only see you from the belly button down. Though now you felt more inclined than ever to pull on the draping and meet this man’s eyes. Your thoughts soon diminished when you felt a large hand over your inner thighs. Nowhere dangerous, just resting below where your kneecaps sat. You closed your eyes to try and envision the kind of hands touching you.

Were they soft and unsullied like a baby’s bum? Or were they rough and ridged with years of work?

That large hand traveled down South, inching with an irritatingly slow pace down towards where you ached the most. He was a fair man. He treated both of your thighs in the same manner before the two gathered together in a v-shape over your cotton panties. You wondered if you should’ve worn something more enticing, something which suited a person like you - someone willing to spread their legs for a true stranger. But the man on the other side didn’t seem to have a problem. He didn’t seem like he was bothered by the simplicity of your presentation, instead he was keen on pressing his thumb down the center.

They were the latter. 

His fingers were textured and it felt too good to be true. At the briefest touch, you followed after his movement, hips reaching further up to chase after his departing touch. You whined. Frustrated that he’s cruel enough to press your sensitive clit and leave you all hot and bothered. He let out a deep chuckle, one that came out from the depth of his stomach as he placed his thumb back where it belonged. Your hole clenched and unclenched at the stimulating sensation. Your cotton panties seemed to be a great aid for your needy clit. It felt similar to grinding over a pillow, just this time, it felt a lot more real and animated.

“How long have you been doin’ this, darlin’?”

“Doin’ what, sir?”

So polite. It’s laughable the fact that you’re so soft spoken. Your lips spilled out a gentle moan as his thumb dug deeper into that sensitive spot.

“Lettin’ strangers fuck you,” he was frank with his words that’s for sure.

“This is my first time.. in the box that is,” your voice cracked almost immediately under pressure. “Been thinking of this for a long long time though.”

The gruff man hummed noncommittally as he continued to please you with his thumb. You used to be shy when it comes to being reactive during intercourse, but with the box, it almost felt like you could finally be your true primal self with your utmost carnal desires. He slowly eased your stained panties to the side once he saw an increasingly growing wetness, knowing that it’s time to move on to his next way of torture. Your pussy was exposed to the cool air immediately, it felt like the air was nipping at the sensitive skin all around. He took his two fingers - his middle and pointer finger being his favorite choice despite the controversy - and slowly dragged it atop the slick canal.

“A pretty girl like you gettin’ all wet from a little touchin’,” he chided. “You haven’t been fucked well or somethin’?”

What a considerate man. He called you pretty when he could barely tell what you look like.

“No, maybe, I-” you were flustered. You’ve never had to exchange proper talk when someone’s touching your dirty, wet cunt. “None of Jackson’s men did good. That’s why I hoped..”

Your voice trailed off into a garble of nonsense when he teased at your entrance, trying to decide whether you’re soaked enough to push a finger in comfortably. You whined, louder this time, as your legs fought against the uncomfortable metal cuffs wrapped around your ankle. He decided to play nice for once and made your dreams come true by inserting that thick finger of his. Fingering has never felt good for you, it always felt like an intrusion rather than a welcomed feeling, but he’s making it feel like heaven on earth.

“Hoped a stranger would fuck me well enough,” you took awhile to finish that statement.

He let out one of those noises of disapproval, at your skewed moral direction perhaps or at the tone of desperation your voice must’ve let out. You could only suck in a shallow breath when he started making proper, continuous motions with his finger. He pushed upwards to poke the tip of his finger onto that squishy part, playing around to find out where exactly made you react the most. You loved how he’s patient. You’re half-expecting the men to just stuff their cocks in you like you’re some sex doll instead of taking their time, which you don’t mind either. Half the pleasure was from being treated like nothing.

“Dirty gal,” he degraded, which you found both surprising and exciting. “Just wanted her pussy stuffed with any cock she could have, hm?”

Your hips thrusted up at a larger interruption. This time, the man managed to insert two of his thick fingers inside your eased cunt. He twisted it one-hundred-eighty degrees to the left, then back to the right, before he curled it in a come-here motion. The motion had left you dumb. A combination of ah ah ah’s and unfinished pleads for him to keep still. The man never once fully removed his fingers out of you. He’d slowly pull back to only have a single knuckle stuck inside before pushing it all the way in once more. For once, someone didn’t finger you like you’re a pizza dough waiting to be pounded.

“A-ah, sir. I really.. mmh- I really like that,” you moaned out shamelessly. “Feels really good in my.. in my pussy.”

“You like what, darlin’?”

“Like your fingers.. fingers in my ah- ah pussy!” you whined when he deepened his reach by rotating his wrist upwards. “Something- fuck- something’s coming! Please.. Please don’t sto-”

You warned him like a goddamn virgin and there it was, you couldn’t see it, but you could hear the way your pussy squelched around his finger at the new wave of sticky fluids. The noises were filthy and lewd that you were embarrassed for the first time that night. It coated your throbbing cunt and slowly ebbed out of your hole, dribbling down onto the wooden floor boards under. Strings of almost translucent thickness proof of his success. It’s pretty. The way you gaped around his fingers, tightened and relaxed at his fingers that still kept you full.

“Good girl,” he cooed.

He must be experienced, because he was quick to rub your clit precisely as you went through the throes of orgasm. His broad palm never missed where that bundle of nerves were, until you’re dripping all over the place. Only when you’re right towards the end did he land a small smack atop your pussy, keeping pressure where your womb is to maintain the pleasure for as long as you could. It felt like this wasn’t a shit place for once. It felt like this stranger could surely turn the flesh-eating monsters into a field of rainbows and flowers from how good he’s making you feel.

“You taste sweet,” he muttered. “Someone ever told you that?”

It took you a while to notice that his fingers weren’t there to stuff you full. He was busy tasting you. You could imagine him on the other side of the room, rough fingers deep in his mouth, drenched in your arousal. The thought made you squirm, growing wet once more. You shook your head as his hand slid back up. His fingers ran over your clit with one long stroke before they stayed there. His thumb sat right atop the throbbing spot, unmoving. 

"Perfect little thing, ain't ya?” he asked, and you nodded, your muscles tense as anticipation ran high. "Gonna fill you up real nice."

As soon as the dull tip of his cock prodded against your entrance, your whole body convulsed. Tears slowly crept into your eyes, frustrated, you might as well cry out a pathetic plea if he kept on stalling. Your palms banged flat against the side of the box. Overwhelmed and on the verge of tears when he purposefully missed your weeping hole. His length slid upwards, the warm tip rubbed against your clit from below before it shied away once more. Your toes curled and he must’ve taken the hint from behind the curtains.

The perfect stranger pushed himself up to where his mushroom-like tip ended, allowing you to adjust to the dimensions of his cock before he eased himself deeper.

You let out a strained moan. 

You almost bump the top of your head on the oak boards when he forced his way in. His cock was fully inside you at last. You were ecstatic. Eyes shut close as you bit into your bottom lip, flesh tearing beneath your canines. It was too much all of a sudden. Too good. Too large. Too full. You could hear the loud squelching noise your spongy hole made as he pulled back and stuffed himself back in.

“Fuck,” he groaned silently. “Don’t squeeze around me, darlin’. You're gonna get me in big trouble.”

He chuckled and fuck did it sound so hot.

You felt his fingers gently reach for the width of your hips. His grip was tight and harsh as he guided your every movement with them. He thrusted like a man on a shooting range, with much precision and prowess. You liked this. Liked feeling as if you’re just a doll for people to use and dump their loads in, especially when it's for someone like him. His cock made you writhe and fight against the metal cuffs holding your legs up. Eager to have him speed up to meet your desires yet he was persistent in keeping a stable speed. The sensation was growing. Slowly but surely.

“A-ah.. mmph.. oh God!”

“God ain’t here to save you, darlin’. It’s just this old man right here,” he cooed crudely. 

He made sure to keep you full at all times. Never once did his perfectly-sized cock leave your sloppy hole, it just kept on twitching and growing in size with the help of your warm embrace. “You like this, don’t ya?”

“Oh- oh yes. I like it. Love your..,” he stopped your lewd confession by placing his thumb back atop your once neglected clit, drawing lazily with what’s left of your wetness. You could feel him starting to seep. A tinge of his own arousal mixing in with yours. “Cock! Love your c- cock.”

His heavy pants started to intensify in volume, such a lovely melody when combined with your pathetic whimpers. He’s close.

“Gonna cum in you, darlin’” he muttered out breathlessly. “Gonna make sure you’re all fucked out with my cum.”

You couldn’t think straight. Not when you’re on a highway to heaven. Your little hole tightened, so eager to milk him dry.

“Yeah, you’d like that, won’t you?”

“O-oh.. oh yes. Please.. fuck,”

“Please?”

“Please fill me up.”

His tip started oozing out ribbons after ribbons of cum, quickly filling you up relentlessly. Though he hasn’t stopped bottoming himself up into you. His load sloshed around, coated his length a perfect milky shade, and dribbled down your rear deliciously. Did you really just let a complete stranger fill you up to the top? Did you truly just let him pour his seed up your needy hole?

Maybe you did.

And maybe it’s reckless.

But oddly enough, you don’t feel too bad about it.

[batfambrainrotbeloved]

Some Future WIP ideas (inspired by songs)

Fic summaries & Songs below <33 (or just go off name alone)

American Healthcare (Penelope Scott)- Jason Centric AU, He goes to Med school and becomes a doctor in Gotham working alongside Leslie (but still hiding the fact he is Jason, because im a sucker for identity shenanigans) and reconnects with his family via Leslies meddling and a Vigilantes tendency to get injured at least once a week

Little Lion Man (Mumford & Sons) +You're gonna go far kid (The Offspring)- Damian Centric AU, one by one his siblings go missing until its up to him as the last bat to take down the big bad and go back to save his family before it's too late. (Lots of scenes of Damian seeing visions/ghosts of his siblings- aka Black Phone vibes)

Eleanor Rigby(Cody Fry) + Providence (Poor Mans Posion)- No Centric, but lots of Tim & Duke focus, having lived in Gotham and fed up by the injustice the kids break from their fathers values and set out to do what Red Hood tried and failed to take as far as it needed to go. They will work together to unite their siblings to a new mission. Can batman really face against his own children?

Stalkers Tango (Autoheart)- + Bust Your Kneecaps (Pompaloose)- Tim centric because he is a creepy little shit and I appreciate unhinged batfam. But make it Timber and its the whole family just supporting their creepy little brother over his obsessive crush (and Bernard whose lowkey into it) (dont worry about the second song, bernard lives)

Kiss With a Fist (Florence + The Machine)- Enemies to Lovers but make it aged up (obvi) DamiJon. Like let Jon have a little temper and Damian have someone who can match his little shit tendencies. They get along like a house on fire (much to the horror of the rest of the hero community) but the chaos possibility is *chefs kiss*

[outletcrash]

My poison ivy! I'm extremely proud of this. backstory under the cut :)

its been in the back of my head that ivy is indian since forever. i literally have no clue why its just There. she's tamil specifically, because i have favoritism regarding the script its written with.. it tickles my brain...

anyways heres my Poison Ivy: Origins comic i made last night in like 3 hours.

(theres a section here on her early life and the backstory of her parents that im still workshopping. basically she was a bastard child that only her mom supported and they left for gotham)

Bhavani got a job as an accountant for a law firm on recommendation from an uncle who had a company that worked in Gotham (he was kinder to the pair). She was always gifted in math. Bhavani raised her daughter the best way she knew how, even without the support of her family. 

Pamela (now nicknamed Ivy due to multiple kids misreading her last name as Ivy. And she was very nature-focused even as a kid, digging in the dirt and identifying different kinds of trees using books she got at the Gotham Library with her mother) excelled in school, surpassing most of her peers. The pursuit of knowledge was the one thing she enjoyed. Her classmates were sticky and loud and irritating, and when she wasn’t ignoring them she was tying their shoelaces together as revenge for talking too loud during quiet time. She managed to make just enough casual friends to not worry her mother too deeply, but this was the start of a downward spiral.

She lost friends, and not many could take on the effort of befriending her. She lost herself in biology, the study of life. Especially plants and conservation. Plants were just so… simple, compared to human society. But their structures and functions and genetics were fascinating. She skipped grades to take higher-level classes on genetics. Her grades were phenomenal but her social skills were extremely underdeveloped. Not like Ivy cared. Humans were a plague on this earth, pumping the atmosphere with CO2 and poisoning rivers and cutting down forests. In her mind, they did nothing but harm the serenity of nature she so cherished. 

After graduating with a PHD and doctorate, she got a job as a genetic engineer. She studied alternative ways to help regrow ecosystems after deforestation. Her Gotham University coworkers were wary around Ivy. She was a woman none of them knew anything about, who would say ecoterrorist-aligned comments offhandedly the few times she ever spoke. 

Ivy was working on a genetically engineered plant on the day of the accident. It was designed to nurture plant species by sending chemical signals, and it took in energy through waste products left by deforestation and manufacturing. At least, in theory. 

Ivy was working all alone in the lab at 2am. She hadn’t slept for hours, she was so close to her breakthrough. She was so close to making those billionaire bastards pay for what they did to the earth. She wasn’t wearing proper safety equipment nor using proper containment procedures during the incident. And as such, she was infected. The plant didn’t just take in waste material, it took in living flesh. Ivy’s cells were transformed in a gruesome fashion, her entire genetic code was re-written as it spread through her body. Her skin was green and her lab coat was bloody. Her newly-red hair flowed behind her as she escaped the lab, running through university grounds. Each footstep brought grass and dandelions cracking through the concrete in full bloom. Trees and grass grew to get closer to her, reaching for her. 

Ivys powers were completely out of control. She was crying and hyperventilating as her mind was warped. It had given her a need for flesh. When she made it to Robinson park, she couldn’t overcome the primal instinct. Plants still crawling at her ankles, and she killed a squirrel with her bare hands and ate it raw. This only fueled her fractured mind to want more. Ivy's first ever murder was a pedestrian, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. He tried to flee when he saw a bloody green woman with a squirrel carcass in her mouth, but it was to no avail. He was strangled to death with poison ivy vines, and eaten. 

Finally, the primal instinct was satiated. Ivy escaped to a warehouse in the industrial district of Old Gotham. She tended to her injuries as best she could, soon discovering she had healing abilities. The injuries from her being torn apart had already mostly healed. She slept on an old couch, dreaming about what she could use these powers for. 

When the news broke on the mysterious and grisly death of a random pedestrian, the media was all over it. Since he was killed by poison ivy, and from security footage the culprit was seemingly a woman, the media dubbed her Poison Ivy. Many believed it wasn’t possible, and that the footage was faked, but the GCPD was stumped. 

Batman looked through the footage and, by process of elimination (matching the appearances of the scientists who had access to the laboratory, keycard scanners throughout that day and evening, as well as their known affiliations and potential criminal history. Two of them did deal weed but it was nonviolent and they didn’t match the woman in the tapes.) 

Dr. Pamela Iyer was the clear suspect. She matched the woman's appearance (besides the green skin and hair, she was a tall woman with long straight hair and a flat nose.) Batman interviewed her coworkers and found she had a history of being antisocial with eco terrorist beliefs. None of them knew where she lived, however. And when the bat interviewed her mother (the only person her coworkers had ever heard her speak to in a positive light) she was very concerned. Suspicious of Batman, clearly, but worried for her precious daughter's well being. She said that Pamela had always loved being near nature, and that she didn’t care for the quality of structure she had to stay in. But other than that, her mother couldn't help. She does bring out the intimidating motherly stare at Batman, making him promise to bring her daughter home safely. 

From here, Batman goes on a search. He prowls rooftops and streets and uses the grappling hook for fast travel. All while monitoring city-wide security cameras (thanks Alfred!) and paying attention to police radio. He stops muggings and thefts and helps get a cat out of a tree as he scans Old Gotham. 

He came to the conclusion Poison Ivy must be in Old Gotham due to damage on the Robinson Park Bridge, connecting Somerset with the southern island. The damage matched with what had been seen on the sidewalks and streets near the University and the scene of the crime. Dandelions and crabgrass taking the shape of human footprints, cracking through concrete. Batman notices some trees down a certain alleyway in the east streets are warped inwards. Very similar to the trees in the park and university. He follows the unusual growth pattern of the trees, like they were hands outstretching to reach a light source. 

There, he finds an old warehouse. He scales the building with a grappling hook, not wanting to be ambushed on the lower levels if he enters on the boarded up front door.  Entering through an old broken skylight, he finds what must've been a long abandoned drug dealer hideout covered in fresh blood. Very, very carefully, he examines the scene. But there's nobody there. She just got away, her blood on the rotting old sofa is still warm. He also notes three strands of long red hair, which he places in crime scene baggies for DNA analysis. 

His current theory is that the doctor was mutated by her own research. He read her notes and the plant she was experimenting with was extremely dangerous. And the security footage (before it cut out during what he believes was the time of the accident) showed her using improper safety equipment. 

He’s on patrol for hours, but can’t find any sign of her. 

That night, Bruce synthesizes a pesticide-like chemical that could prevent Ivy's powers. However, he talks to Alfred about how the plant would adapt to it almost like a bacteria, and that it might not be effective more than once. 

The next morning Bruce Wayne is scheduled for a charity event. Many rich people are there tied to a business venture Wayne was not aware of. The event was for funding for healthcare systems in Gotham. Little does he know, this is the exact place Ivy plans to attack. She’s hated the rich for years and many politicians and businessmen that support an amazon rainforest deforestation project are there. 

She interrupts their little charity event at a historical building in the financial district of old gotham with a surprise. Ivy broke into one of her old greenhouses at the university, taking small samples of extremely poisonous amazon rainforest plants with her. This happened quickly and silently while Bruce was still at the function. 

Ivy crashed through the large art-nouveau stained glass windows, supported by giant vines. She is lifted down the staircase like she was floating, more vines and deadly plants crawling in from the giant hole in the glass, moonlight from the full moon peeking through the clouds and illuminating her entrance. London Planetrees from around the building grow in front of doors, sealing all the possible exits. 

All of the rich and fancy people in dresses and suits meandering around the building are screaming and trying to run, which is when a mad-with-power Ivy releases her plants. 

They grow to gargantuan sizes in moments, releasing toxic spores and fumes and burning people's skin. Ivy finds the most heinous offenders of the rainforest bill and feeds them deadly plants by hand, graphic symptoms ensue. 

In the pandemonium, Bruce pulls out some tree facts about the flammability of a certain species, managing to throw a fire source directly at it as a diversion before escaping through a vent in the opposite wing of the hall. Alfred is already outside with the Batsuit, he brought it as soon as he learned of the attack. 

Bruce suits up and re-enters. It's a grueling and difficult battle, the most difficult he has fought so far. He manages to spray Ivy with the chemical, and she goes down, all the plants in the hall going still. The excessive toxic fumes suddenly go back to normal levels. Bruce uses an extremely strong tranquilizer on her, she’s still fighting to get up. Finally, Ivy is defeated.

Almost the whole charity gathering was injured in the attack with seven people dead and immense damage done to the structure of the historical hall. 

Ivy’s powers are sedated and she’s taken into police custody, where she is deemed insane. Half of the insanity conviction was her actual insanity and the other half was that Arkham is the only facility capable of holding her, especially since it’s located on an island. Batman agrees with Jim Gordon on this comment. 

Ivy didn’t say anything during her trial, silently glaring with little remorse. The physician diagnosed her with ASPD (which wasn’t right but it's on her legal documents.)

The comic ends with Ivy in Arkham, talking about the rich swine tearing apart the world, and how she finally has the power to stop them. How she can feel the mutation inside of her slowly winning against the sedative drugs, adapting and consuming the chemical to turn it into energy as it was designed to do. How she will return the world to ecologic harmony, with her own hands. It ends with her in the Arkham cafeteria, staring at a mysterious blonde prisoner a few tables across…

the writing isn't like, a fanfiction. its a guideline for a comic in a series of origins comics im planning. do not get your hopes up these'll be done in like, 10-20 years at my current speed. i have a scarecrow and riddler outline in the works, and plans for a batman, joker, harley quinn and probably a penguin comic eventually. and more villians. once i'm done with all the origins comics i'll be doing like, a regular batman series. just for fun yknow.

[frogchiro]

That Skyrim au thing you did a while back made me cream. But also, what if the reader is like betrothed and the guy she’s betrothed to is awful so the guys like kill him or something to keep the reader forever.

Im sorry this is probably so confusing but Im having a brain rot and I can’t think straight lmaoooo

Oh my god😭 i really didn't expect for my silly Skyrim thot to be so popular but I'm so happy ;;

Also I'm sorry in advance but I went with Graves on this bc kinda obsessive Lord!Graves is scratching an itch and I have many thoughts about him and tavern maid reader ;;

also if you desire so, it can be the same Lord Graves as the one here

fem!reader, not really nsfw but general perviness, obsessive Philip Graves (he's a lil delusional ;;), reader is implied to be chubby, gore & mentions of murder but nothing graphic really, creepy guy but dw, philip deals with him <3

OKAY SO as you can probably imagine, your arranged marriage to the local blacksmith was....anything than out of love or even affection, it was purely out of convenience on the insistence of your father. Your parents were getting older but you were still young and so beautiful, many men in the village would court you but according to your father the blacksmith was the best match; the fact that they were old buddies and often shared a drink together and the 'arrangement' was probably created during one of their drunken get togethers was an unspoken fact.

Another thing that displeased you greatly was the fact that not only was the blacksmith, Halvar was his name, your father's age but he was known to not be a pleasant man to be around. He was loud, crass, hot-tempered and terribly ill-mannered, not to mention a raging drunk so much that you wonder how did such a man keep up his workshop for so long. You knew about his drunken escapades very well, every server girl at the tavern knew about him and how terrible he got while drunk, and you were to be his wife? You felt defeated at best and simply humiliated and hopeless at worst.

You were dreaming and wondering about your wedding day and future spouse since you were a girl, would they be strong and handsome? Beautiful? Kind and caring and would take you away from this life of barely getting by? All those dreams quickly faded to nothingness when you came to terms with whom you'll be spending the rest of your life with and it was...miserable.

Little did you know about a certain someone who has been keeping his eyes on you for quite some time now. Someone who send his men, his 'Shadows' to spy on you and report back to him just to be sure that you're safe and okay and the last reports worried him greatly.

Because you see, Lord Commander Philip Graves was in love. He was in love with you and he had it bad. To him, everything about you was perfect; your clear glowing skin that looked so soft to touch, your hair flowing in the wind, your full breasts almost spilling out of the barmaid dress as you were giggling and serving him wine and dinner while he regularly visited the tavern you worked at just so he'd be able to watch you, gods he wanted to pull that annoying dress down and suckle on you tits, grope your full and soft body until you were mewling for him...

He was in love with your bubbly nature, your smile and with your full, plump body; he wanted to devour you and keep you as his, make you his Lady Wife and breed you full of his children. You'd be such a good momma Philip thought, with your caring nature you'd nurture your babies and you two would watch them grow into perfect lords and ladies. And while your marriage would probably spark a few controversies given his status as a lord and you a 'simple' villager but let's be honest, he wouldn't give two fucks about it. Let those little lordlings whine to him that he didn't chose one of their snotty daughters to marry, nobody would even listen to them and Philip would end up with a perfect little wifey.

The only problem was you 'betrothed', that old drunk blacksmith.

Philip scowled even at the thought of someone like that getting with someone like you. You were perfect in every sense and that poor excuse of a man was nothing compared to you...to him, Lord Graves.

The blonde drank deeply from his goblet, the spiced wine leaving a pleasant taste on his tongue and briefly he wondered whether you'd taste sweeter on his tongue...before his mind returned to the more unpleasant thoughts.

He was very well aware that the betrothal was an arrangement between your father and that man but it didn't lessen the burning anger in his veins, if anything it made it even worse. That old drunken bastard could barely make a straight sword nowadays so what would make anyone believe that he'd be able to actually take care of you? With him you'd have everything you'd ever ask for and more, maids and servants waiting on your command and Philip himself would tour the world if you asked for a specific kind of material for your dress or jewel.

Yeaaah, the blacksmith had to go immediately and Philip being a lord commander, basically owning all the villages around his castle, knew exactly what to do and how it'd happen.

He smiled to himself and brought the goblet back against his lips as he leaned on the windowsill to continue watching you take a bath in the lake, his keen blue eyes darkening with desire as he watched your naked body swimming in the body of water and giggling as some ducks swam by you. The blonde could already envision it; you, naked and flushed and panting, all warm and cozy among the luxurious furs and blankets of his bed with Philip panting above you getting down from his high and passionately kissing your swollen lips, growling and hugging you close to him and making sure to mark you up with lovebites and hickeys, rubbing his musky scent off on you to make sure everyone knows that you're his.

And while you'd be all smiley and cozy, drunk on your love and the warm glow from the hearth illuminating your skin, your ex-betrothed would be...less fortunate, rotting away in the deeper parts of the surrounding forest, half eaten away by nature, forgotten and completely eradicated from your mind.

[marinaiguess]

wholesome wednesday :)

This was supposed to be smaller but...oh well. Have fun with a wholesome brothers moment I came up with today, set after the events of sonic riders zero gravity. i wanted to share this only on the discord server im in, but it’s too long to send it hhhh. so, i hope you enjoy :)

-------------------------------------------------------------------

“Mornin’ buddy.” he jumps a little at the greeting, ears still sensitive from their last adventure. Maybe from the lack of sleep as well.

“Good morning, Sonic.” he replies, mentally slapping himself. His voice sounded way too coarse, even coarser than Sonic’s, and now he is certain he is going to get lectured very soon. Despite that, he continues his work, trying to cover up for the slip up by not letting his brother see his face and - potentially - the dark bags under his eyes. Maybe if he acts like nothing is wrong, Sonic won’t suspect a thing and-

“Tails?” he doesn’t flinch, even though it felt like Sonic was on the verge of interrogating him. Instead, he minds his own business. 

“Yeah?”

“Miles.” A hand on his shoulder and the sound of his birth name in that strict tone, urge him to turn around on his chair as he lets out a long sigh. Tools still in his hands and ears hanging low, Tails suddenly finds interest in the tiles of the workshop’s floor. 

Sonic bends down in an attempt to hold Tails’ gaze, not letting go of the fox just yet. He tilts his head as he tries to get his attention, but his little bro looks the other way, still actively avoiding him. Sonic scoffs at that, impressed by the youngster’s stubborness. 

“Hey, don’t act like looking away can hide your puffy eyes from me.” Sonic resists the urge to roll his eyes as he states the obvious. Yet, that seems like this is enough for Tails to look back at him, though hesitantly, because he knows without a shadow of doubt that there is no chance of escaping getting scolded.

A pair of emerald eyes pierce through him and Tails feels uneasy (and a little disappointed in himself) as soon as he watches Sonic’s serious expression morph into a concerned one. “Why didn’t you sleep?”

Tails brings one tail closer to him, fidgeting with its tip the best he can while not letting the tools out of his grasp. “Who said I didn’t sleep? I-i just got up early because I needed to work on this new prorject of mine that-”

“Tails.” Sonic cocks an eyebrow, voice dangerously calm; it feels like a warning. “How about you try that again? This time no lying though?” 

“I was working on something a-and-”

“Tails,” Sonic interrupts his stuttering in a sing-song voice “I think I said no lying?”

Tails grumbles and crosses his arms. He hates it when Sonic can tell that he islying when he can get away with it all the time! 

Sonic doesn’t know for how long he has to be mad at him, but it’s becoming increasingly harder to keep a straight face when his little bro is pouting in front of him. Aww he’s so cute. 

Still impressed by his persistence (and refusing to let him see a smile slip up while he was getting scolded) , Sonic gets up and lets him go. He knows he won’t get an answer this way so he decides to take a look at what Tails had been tinkering with. 

A yellow extreme gear lies atop of the workbench, alongside many blueprints and scattered tools. 

Sonic inspects it for a few seconds, it seems like nothing has changed since the last time he took a look at it; since yesterday’s events. And usually, when Tails tries to improve his inventions, he makes sure to make it evident that there has been a change made. Right now? Nothing has changed. 

“So, you’ve been working on your extreme gear?” he takes a shot again, hoping he will get an answer this time. 

Tails turns around, facing him. “Yeah!” 

Sonic couldn’t help but notice the uncertainty in his voice. “And, I guess you could show me what exactly took you all night to figure out?” 

He got a wince as a reply. And a fox who appeared to be shinking on his seat the more he kept this conversation going. 

“So, nothing new then.” He traces his fingertips across the smooth metallic surface of the gear. Their only weapons against yesterday’s adventure. 

His eyes widen in realization. 

“Tails, buddy...” he trails off as he allows his face to soften, approaching his brother who is having a hard time comprehending the sudden change in demanour from the other person in the room. “You could’ve told me.” 

“Tell you what?” he counters, confusion prevalent on his features while carefully spectating Sonic who had stopped a few inches away from him. 

“Yesterday was tough for you-”

“What do you mean?” he almost sounded offended and Sonic could only wince at that. So, he bent forward, both hands on his buddy’s shoulders as he continued.

“Alright, yesterday was tough for all of us.” he admitted, images of flying into outer space occupying his mind. “So, you have every right to feel scared, it wasn’t easy-

“I’m not scared!” Tails leans forward, holding Sonic’s gaze as he tries to persuade him. As he tries to persuade himself. Sonic needs a useful and fearless ally by his side, not a whiny and scared little child who backs down at the dangers that come his way. Even though he proved to be the opposite of that yesterday, he still was afraid and the aftermath of the fight wasn’t the best for him. 

Sonic steps back, arms wide open on his sides as he tries to reason with the genius in front of him, “Dude, it was a black hole! The whole world was gonna be blown to pieces, of course you were scared.” A beat of silence and Sonic quickly makes use of Tails’ refusal to speak. “We had to fight a giant mutated robot too, all that while a thunderstorm was happening.”

Tails’ eyes lit up with fear, the reminder of the thunderstorm making his fur stand on edge. 

Sonic wants to get closer to him once again but decides against it, as another idea pops up in his mind. “Hey, listen to me.” he says as he bends down to his eye level. “I’m proud of you. And you are the bravest person I know. You didn’t let your fears stop you from saving the world and that’s one of the coolest things you’ve ever done! I wish I were as cool as you, kicking ass while trying not to drown.” Tails snorts at that and as a result, Sonic’s smile brightens up. “Metaphorically and literally. But you need to give yourself some credit. You did great out there.”

“You...you mean it?” 

“Of course I mean it!” he stands straight, hands planted on his hips, “And you deserve to let yourself get scared. Just remember that you have friends who will try their best to help you out with that.” 

Tails smiles for the first time today and Sonic considers that a win. 

“Come’ ere.” Sonic opens up his arms, an invitation which Tails can do nothing but accept. He bumps head first into his chest as he circles his arms around his waist, grip as strong as the hammer that was long gone from his hands, just like the other tools on his chair. Sonic makes sure to return the gesture, tightening his hug as much as he can, head on top of the yellow bangs he usually likes to ruffle. 

He can feel Tails’ smile grow wider on his chest and it makes him happier by the second. He closes his eyes to embrace this moment. Before making the both of them sit on the floor, a fox snuggled up in his arms, looking as little and vulnerable as he was a long time ago, Sonic makes sure to kiss his forehead softly. 

And he does the same again as he sits against the counter of the workbench, with a fast asleep Tails inside the safety of his hug. 

[placeinthemiddleofnowhere]

I’ve kinda already written about this before with the college AU I started a while ago but I have a mighty need for a life drawing workshop with Ghost and Soap.

Like maybe Soap runs some classes in a local bar venue space or something and he puts out ads every so often for models. Ghost meanwhile is discharged from the army with a shitty shoulder injury and no where to go. After going for a pint with Gaz to commiserate, and drown their shared sorrows of having to leave army life, Gaz tells Ghost about a new side hustle he has going ever since he’d had to leave months prior.

Ghost snorts out a laugh at first “are you bloody joking? You. A life model?”

Gaz pretends not to get too offended, but rolls his eyes and take a drink.

“It’s not as weird as you think. You stand in a couple different poses-“

“With your kit off,” Ghost chuckles.

“Yes, with your kit off,” Gaz huffs. “You get told how to stand and what props to use and then a bunch of people draw you for a couple hours. It’s totally painless and you get decent dosh for it. I do Soap’s class twice a month and Alex’s class three times - it’s easy money, plus it’s cash in hand so HMRC don’t have to be any the wiser bout it.”

“Hang on a minute, Soap?” Ghost says, shaking his head. “What kind of a name is Soap? He gives you props as well? What next, does he ask you to dance for him too? Give ‘im the old dazzle dazzle, do you?”

“Fuck off Ghost.”

“Aw, im only messing. ‘Sides even if I wanted to do little poses for your art class, I wouldn’t be able to. My shoulder’s buggered remember? I wouldn’t be able to hold a lot of positions for long.”

“Soap’s pretty understanding. He can pick poses that suit your body and he can adjust the times so that you don’t have to stay still too long if you can’t take it. You just have to tell him about your injury and he’ll be understanding.”

Ghost shook his head again and took another gulp.

“Fuckin’ Soap.”

“He’s an eccentric guy, but he’s cool,” Gaz shrugs. “Do you want me to speak to him for you? He’s usually on the lookout for new models.”

Ghost would say he’d need to take some time to think about it, but Gaz would take that as a yes. So a few days roll by and soon enough Ghost gets a text through telling him that Soap would be ‘well up’ for meeting him and said he should come by the next evening before class.

Ghost - I told you I’d think about it, you twat. Not to go on ahead and tell him I wanna join his little cult.

Gaz - show up or don’t, you can think about it all you like between now and then. You’ll thank me later 🤪

After that last text Gaz then sent him a picture of a wad of cash and few coins spread out over a blotted bar top. Ghost would sigh, but as soon as he saw that money he knew his decision was made. He needed something until he was able to figure out what to do with the rest of his life, something to tide him over till he received payments for his injury.

He’d turn up for Soap’s class with a flustered air around him and would step through the shadowy doorway to the bar with soft unsure steps. It was still early, there wouldn’t be many people inside. He’d ask the barman where the function room was and sullenly walk through the curtain, raising his brows when he’d finally lay eyes on Soap.

Ghost wouldn’t know what to expect but it’s not the mohawked barrel of a man that’s lugging chairs around the room and running around like a little worker ant. His eyes would linger on the muscles that were exposed from Soap’s paint and charcoal stained tank top and he’d watch on wordlessly, widening his eyes when Soap would finally notice him. He’d dig his nails into his palms to try to stop himself from blushing in embarrassment.

“You’re a bit early for the class’ mate,” Soap would huff, settling another chair around the raised stage. “Looking to join?”

“Uh sort of,” Ghost would say, frowning as he struggled to find words around the bodybuilder/artist. “My friend Gaz, uh Kyle you probably know him as - he said you were looking for more models and that I should come by…”

Soap’s eyes would light in recognition and he’d smile warmly, striding over to greet Ghost properly. Ghost wouldn’t be prepared for the warm grip in Ghost’s handshake and he especiallly wasn’t prepared for those big blue crystalline eyes to be roaming over him as if they were mentally taking him apart.

“Simon right?” Soap would say, revealing a perfect white grin. “I’m Soap, John’s my name, but I prefer Soap so you can go with that, yeah? Kyle mentioned you had a shoulder injury and that you weren’t sure you could hold certain poses.”

Ghost would straighten up then and nod, pointing out which one it was. From then Soap would take him through a few positions and would discuss the technicalities with him, were Ghost to join. Apparently it was easy to make accommodations for him, and Soap would be more than pleased to have him as a model, and like Kyle had already mentioned, the pay was pretty good.

Ghost would grow interested the more he would hear and eventually Soap would wear him down enough into taking him through a few practice ones. They would be relatively easy, and Ghost would find himself realising that Gaz was right - it was easy money. Plus Soap was no bad company either.

He’d be convinced into watching the class that night and getting to have a little taster of what he would be doing. The model that night would be a tiny little thing, a dancer, and would hold the most intricate stances for the eager artists to draw, contorting themselves into pretzel like shapes that Ghost couldn’t possibly hold. They’d capture his attention for a minute, but Ghost would always find himself staring at Soap right after.

He’d watch the way he directed the model, stroking the air to dictate how he wanted them and guiding them gently into form all without physically touching. He’d encourage the artists, complimenting a few people, and helping anyone that needed guidance. His favourite would be when the others would fall silent and Soap would take to gathering himself a pencil and paper and drawing for a little bit. The immense concentration, the way he’d clench his jaw and narrow his eyes would be so captivating and there was nothing that could stop Ghost looking away. Nothing that could stop him from wondering what it would be like having Soap’s eyes on him like that.

As it turns out it would almost steal all the breath from his lungs. Ghost would be sitting on that same stage the next week, stone faced and gritting his teeth through the slight chill in the air. He’d be used to resisting the cold, though he wouldn’t be used to all the eyes on his naked body, most of all Soap’s as his furrowed brow stayed glued to him. Ghost would swear that Soap could read his thoughts, could strip his mind just as easily as his body and he would know that Ghost was developing a stupid obsession with him (he’d refuse to think of it as a crush).

He’d look purposely look away on the next pose and would still feel Soap’s eyes on him still. They’d warm a path from the bones at his collar, all the way down the ridges of his pecs and right down to the pit of his belly. Butterflies would dance where his empty stomach should have been.

He’d love and hate it in equal measure, barely feeling the eyes of Soap’s gaggle of students because of the intensity of their teacher, but he would still show up again the next week and the next after that. Just hoping that maybe one night it wouldn’t be his own hands pulling the cord on his robe, perhaps he could embrace a pair covered in charcoal and graphite and entice them to touch instead of trace the air. He’d want to break through Soap’s page and show him new colours, tear the world as he knew it apart in only the way that Ghost could.

[thewertsearch]

Ask Comp 19/10

That's true - we don't know for sure that Trollian can fully emulate Sburb's surveillance capabilities.

If the trolls were sufficiently motivated, though, they wouldn't actually need to. Sollux could probably hack one of the kids' computers, to gain access to their Sburb viewport - although if he did, he wouldn't need a camera to snoop on their messages.

Is there a paranoia Aspect? I think I've finally found my calling.

anonymous asked: heya! ive just finished re-reading your ENtIRE liveblog and i to send asks about some stuff but i waited to finish so im sendind everything at once! (im gonna send stuff in a bunch of small asks so cat can stop just one instead of the whole thing in case of accidental spoilers) (aslo hi cat!) (also its ninnoy, havent sent an ask in a while but i changed my pfp to something slightly more spoilery so im in anon now) [...] the jade pen pal thing, do you have any new theories on who it could be?

None! I'm sure that it's someone derived from Grandpa Harley, but everything else is a mystery.

I have no particular theories about who he is, how he knows Jade, where he got his hands on so many endgame weapons, or why he's got such an antiquated accent if he's watching movies from the 80s. I assume time travel is involved, but that doesn't really narrow anything down in a comic like this. He (she? they?) is a complete enigma, and I'll just have to wait to learn more.

ALsO WHEREs YOUR sONAs? we havent seen them in so long im afraid sahlle might have actueally died of meteor strike (joking of course) also have you realized that "sally" and "cat" are both one letter of from a valid kid name? you could lend her one of your "L"s

I've actually been workshopping some Quest stuff for Sahlee this week! I suppose I'd need to figure out her Title first, though, and for that, I'd need to get a more solid idea of her personality, and how her experiences on Alternia have shaped her.

in one of your last posts you seemed to imply that the multiverse exists inside the timeline, but ive always read it as the opposite, the timeline inside the universe that would explain why the trolls can pick any time from the humans universe to talk to them but cant have private conversations with their own futute/past selves, its not an inherent part of trollian, they are just outside the human timeline (the memos are still trollian being time fucky) dont know if that makes any difference but its a thought also i realize the tag may be unecessary due to my quirk, but its too late to stop now

(NOTE: quirk omitted for readability, but the substitutions are [t -> 7, s -> 2] - sort of a variant of Sollux's quirk. I actually don't think we've seen any quirks which add a 7, so the voice here is distinct from any trolls we've seen so far. I like it!)

Originally, my assumption was that each timeline contained a duplicate of the entire multiverse. Doomed timelines don't seem to let you communicate with other universes/dimensions, though, so they don't need to contain other sectors of reality. I'm currently of the opinion that doomed timelines only contain an instance of the dimension they were doomed in. The only timeline which contains the entire multiverse is the Alpha.

This mechanic keeps doomed timelines simple, but in-universe, I don't know why it exists. Much like the Alpha itself, it's a mystery I can only speculate about.

has the shipping chart been updated since the last time we saw it? also you (at some point) said that equius<>feferi was a controversial ship so i had to go back to check the notes and i was the only person i found talkig about it so i guess im the whole controversy? if thats the case i would like to thank you for recognizing me as the equius<>feferi number 1 hater (all jokes of course)

I got a few skeptical asks about Equius<>Feferi, but you're the only one who discussed it on the post itself. I guess by some measures, you are the most dedicated hater, because your hate was posted publicly! 🤣

I could make one or two changes, but I don't want to post a new chart until the kids meet the trolls in person, hopefully at the end of the Act!

The Scratch, naturally - but I'm also looking forward to seeing exactly how WV was Exiled. He's currently on Skaia, and Jack has lost interest in him, so who's actually sending him through the portal?

Tavros is barely a presence on the Land he's ostensibly the hero of, and all of his actions are being dictated by a third party who can physically control his body. This third party does not acknowledge or respect Tavros's own desires, effectively forcing him to play the game in a way that she personally approves of.

She claims it will make him stronger.

@bladekindeyewear submitted: That was a long, thorough, and fantastic response! It's fascinating seeing your opinion on these things-- and I'm glad to see that considering the questions we've given you seems to have made you more paranoid. But I'm just not entirely sure you're paranoid ENOUGH. Not yet. Much like how you just found that "BREEZE" quote in your Breath research, back at around the time you've now reached in the comic, we had dozens of theory-miners combing back through everything that had been said and shown in Homestuck, over and over again, searching for anything we might have missed that might have been of some importance. [...] So, uh….. how do I put this… Would you prefer to strictly handle that sort of thing all by yourself, as you've said? Which I'd agree is still the best way that you should keep to, for the most part? Or would you mind if I gave you just a CRUMB of an example, only one? A tiny bit of text that we in the theory community only found at about the time you've reached in the comic, even though it was more than a thousand pages earlier?

Shit, this is such a dilemma. I'm honestly really torn.

See, I'd probably find old fandom theories absolutely fascinating to analyze. I'd love to know how closely my ideas align with those of the early Homestuck fandom, and whether I'm saying anything really out-of-pocket. My analysis of Sollux's ~ATH script was apparently an original theory, and it's honestly one my proudest moments.

But that's also sort of the problem, isn't it? If I dive too deeply into other people's fan theories, they'll start to affect my own - and if I'm introduced to a really compelling fan theory, it could end up replacing any homegrown theories that I could have developed in lieu of it. If someone had send me a well-reasoned ~ATH theory before I did my own analysis, I'd probably have been less motivated to make the analysis in the first place. After all, many of my questions would already have been answered by a clever theory I just read.

People are free to send me their own off-the-cuff opinions on what's happening in the comic, or their own takes on any meta I write. I get a lot of asks like that, and they're some of my favorites. There are also asks which spoil a little too much, but I'm still interested in their takes, so Cat's saving them for later. We don't really delete asks - we just delay the ones that aren't necessarily appropriate for a blind liveblog.

Obviously there's a fine line here, and whether a given ask is a theory or just an opinion is a little subjective - but in my opinion, the influence that asks and submissions have had on my analysis has been relatively minor. I don't think many of my theories have been spawned from an ask, or killed by one.

This is a little different, though, because it's part of a theory that was crowdsourced over several years. It doesn't sound like something that could be inferred by an individual, so I'm not sure if it's something an individual liveblogger should necessarily know about? If I start crowdsourcing my analysis, my theories will be less Wertsearch and more fandom consensus, and I don't think I'd enjoy that as much.

I really want to know, but I think I'll enjoy the liveblog more if I don't. When I finish the comic, I'll gleefully analyze any fan theory that anyone sends me - but for now, I'll just have to wonder, and come up with theories of my own!

Yeah, we've really been getting into it with Vriska lately. I've enjoyed trying to explain and predict her actions, and I'm glad people don't think I'm going overboard when trying to analyze her.

When a character does something interesting, I don't like to move on until I have a theory about why they did it. Sure, it may be refuted later, but it needs to be something that's consistent with what I currently know about their personality.

Vriska takes a particularly long time to puzzle out in this way. Her motivations are derived from a complex web (lol) of factors, including Scratch, Spidermom, her rivalry with Terezi, her horrendous relationship with Tavros, classism, teenage hormones, quadrant politics, highblood society and the Alternian culture of violence. They all inform her decisions, and any combination of them could have been the catalyst for the latest Vriska Incident.

I want characters to make sense to me, and Vriska is written to deliberately challenge my attempt to achieve this. Her meta is fun to write, so I'm glad it's also fun to read!

[theskyexists]

I think its hilarious that Andy Weir made the go-getter administrator who's supposed to organise saving the world Dutch. Stratt is not a Dutch name btw. So maybe German heritage or marriage. The blunt, direct, no nonsense, even unintentionally rude stereotype which is often correct in small ways is a funny little in-joke. I even think he got the speech pattern in English correct....

Wow powerful woman...

I will say this: he didn't find out how to make the astrophage release energy? He found out how they reproduce? So... Why did they say that? Are they just burning these lil dots?

How is the astrophage what it is. How is it not destroyed by pressure and such. And.

Why in the heck would they swerve around going from a CO2 rich planet back to the sun... Is that really more efficient than simply covering a planet in yourself and being a plant basically?

Ok so he did find out how the astrophage release energy, as in, move themselves with light.

What's the problem with the sun dimming if Eridians don't get any energy from the sun?/sunlight doesn't reach them?

Oh I actually felt so sad for Leclerc, when he cried.

And I love Stratt so much lol. Who was bright enough to put her in charge. She's the perfect 'war'-time leader. Completely selfless.

Oh. Im so sad for rocky. 46 years. Oh no...oh no.

Oh Stratt was being sexist... That's not realist. Will Weir refute her via Ryland? Yeah he did. Hah. That's cool.

Its weird that Rocky hasn't considered: if I am no longer in my workshop, then I won't be protected from radiation.

Did they not test the teams/teammates for psychological compatibility???? Oversight

I dont really get how they can catch astrophage without getting blasted apart by their insane speeds hopping from planet to sun and back.

"Life can be pretty picky about temperature ranges."

EXCEPT ASTROPHAGE? and all the other cells in the cold vacuum of space?? They just skipped over them. Hello??? What's their secret? Do they also smash neutrinos together or whatever?? I couldn't follow that physics bit

Aww. The team all liked him so much because he's so normal and easily upset by e.g. their approaching deaths.

I'm a bit worried that Weir is going to prove Stratts sexism right by having Shapiro and DeBois back out because she got pregnant or something. But that's really not in line with the vibe so maybe they just both get killed because of their entanglement... I still wouldn't like that. Honestly Stratt's throwback to 'two men one woman sex will make advanced astronauts revert to cavemen' seems like a deliberate callback to all those sci fi books that insist on the inherent murderous explosiveness of male sexuality.

'math is procedure [not thinking]' uh yeah it is biologically.

Weir shunting in a lil personal theory on intelligence being based on gravity. Interesting. But the reason why Rocky and protag are same intelligence is the same reason their civilisations are about as advanced: they wouldn't otherwise have met.

It's hilarious that Ryland is like: I miss my kids they looked up to me. EVERYBODY IN THE WORLD PROBABLY LOOKS UP TO YOU RIGHT NOW MY MAN

Yeah. At the last possible moment, astrophage exploded the place that Shapiro and DeBois were in. Damn. Ok but its kinda on Stratt TO BE HONEST. That she let prime crew role member and same secondary crew role member hang around the same place together at all. In a way.

This seems to imply that they left Shapiro and DuBois to do an experiment on ASTROPHAGE TOGETHER. what??? That they cause the explosion even.

Why let the science crew at an astrophage at all? WHY LET THEM AT IT TOGETHER??? HELLO????

honestly why was Stratt so lax about all primary personnel safety all along including herself?? Why was she on the airplane carrier that was doing experiments with bombs????

Ok but how the HELL did astrophage develop these abilities????

Also. Why. Uh. Why bother with a natural predator if you can just prick em. Aren't there lots of creatures that can prick other cells. Though probably not in nigh-vacuum...

How did they make a spaceship without electronics.... ...huh??? How does the robot work on the outside of Rocky's ship? ....what

Ok so they don't have procedures for testing astrophage. BUT ALSO WHY WERE BOTH ESSENTIAL CREW MEMBERS IN THE SAME ROLE TESTING EDGE CASES??? HELLO???? HOW WAS THAT ALLOWED??? HELLO???? STRATT????

Ok but she kept a tertiary science specialist then i guess she kept tertiary other specialists. But also. The narrative acts like she had no part and final responsibility in letting her specialists do dangerous ass stupid tests. Like there aren't a hundred other people they could have gotten to do TESTS AWAY FROM THE IMPORTANT CREW

Why would you wait for his answer. Just get the next in line out NOW.

In fact. Why the heck wouldn't they train up at least six understudies. Theatre shows even do that. This narrative development was the one I was reading towards and it turned out stupid.

Also. They got a biologist for tests, an engineer for maintenance, and a commander. Was the commander the navigator and maths guy? Or are all astronauts supposed to be able to do what Grace does? Complex space calculations? Like. Lucky he remained in form firstly and secondly that hes so gifted at physics????? He's a biologist right? But I guess also a physicist?

Stratt doesn't respect Grace? Even now? Then she is kind of an idiot after all. Like all very strong-minded people are ... Too convinced of herself. She relied on Grace for a huge part. And she doesn't respect him? Because she herself could never be a coward. That's idiotic. She cannot forgive cowardice because she herself finds it much easier than others to be ruthless.

I could accept this twist a little more if the leadup had made more sense. Stratt is murdering Grace for sure - but the narrative insult of her having been able to prevent that by explicitly training up additional crews instead of quietly training Grace PLUS doing a better job of keeping the prime crew from STUPID DANGEROUS EXPERIMENTS - and the actual insult of calling him a COWARD while doing it - that's like. That was their last interaction. Makes me feel vindictive. Hope she regrets it. She wouldn't regret sending him against his will. But the damn insult to somebody who she has worked closely with, who delivered extremely important discoveries, who did every single secondary administration.

Ok so. And important point of Grace for Rocky was that he had science equipment. But now Grace is like: eh. Rocky can make better equipment. Why didn't Rocky think of that lol

On the other hand Grace HAS proven to be kind of a reckless idiot again and again and again.

Right they've got electronics but not transistors. Right.

I feel like Weir should have spent a little more flashback on Grace bonding with his 'crew' and 'friends'.

Why the FUCK would you send out your beetles while on the trip. Send them out before you start on the risky way home. Why is Grace such an idiot.

Stratt goes to talk to Grace. I don't know I've soured on her. Not because of what she chose to do to Grace but the way she did it.

She doesn't even leave him in fucking peace

Ok so I don't like how Weir did this scene either. It didn't give Grace a moment of grace. And it didn't give Stratt the chance to say: well the good thing about you going is that you won't be here when everything is going to hell. Think about that.

Why are the taumoeba farms manually fed...? Didn't Grace want the option of going into coma...?

HE WENT BACK TO ROCKY AND HE WENT BACK TO SAVE ERID AND ROCKY COULD BARELY SPEAK OR BELIEVE IT GRACE CAME BACK WHEN ROCKY THOUGH ABSOLUTELY ALL HOPE WAS LOST

Taumoeba are like normal amoeba...ok. but then why is it the only thing that can eat astrophage

He did it. And Earth doesn't even know that he did it. That he did it alone. Or that he met aliens, and they worked together to do it. He probably didn't even write it down and put it on the beetle. None of it. (Because he's kind of an idiot). Like. He probably didn't even tell them about the aliens!!!! Come on!!!! Anyway he's teaching little aliens.... Lovely

[clowntown0129]

RRAAARAGGAHAGHh

in other words, heres a list of twst characters and what kind of lives they would have in project moon the City! im set on most of these but would love feedback on what other people think 🥰🥰🥰 more under cut because good lord. still need to think of the districts they all live in 😭

HEARTSLABYUL

the Adeuce duo dont realize it but they end up working at the same Allas workshop and often get into trouble despite Deuce trying to be a good employee and make his mom happy:( Ace says fuck that. glove with the power of a small tornado to face

Trey being a baker in district K but unfortunately gets caught up in more syndicate business than he would like to admit (he still lives a normal ordinary life he promises)

Cater being a plain office worker in and hates his job but god damnit if he isnt gonna act like he looooves it!! he often gets called up often by Seven assoc. members because hes got connections to get info quick. also once did a totally legal experiment for a totally not shady organization where he was promised money but instead just snuck out with four clones of himself that all live in a friends like scenario in his (their??) apartment but would kill each other if it comes down to it. how the Head hasnt found out yet boggles him every day

Riddle being a super strict office manager thats studying to become a judge (weird ties with a syndicate?? at the very least knows azul)

SAVANNACLAW

Leona being the second son of a super important family that runs a huge company but hating constantly being in second so he runs away and starts his own syndicate (NAME PENDING idk if i just want to call it savannaclaw that seems…lazy). everyone in his syndicate all get metal prosthetics to make them look like animals. leona ofc has his own lion ears and legs.

Ruggie being part of a very poor family in the backstreets and having to do everything to survive including eating corpses on the streets before the sweepers can get to them. worked at Pierre’s Bistro for a bit before he quit and joined Leona’s syndicate because it seemed more stable. if he hadnt found Leona’s syndicate and made a somewhat better life for himself, he mightve gotten kidnapped by a sweeper and turned into one himself. he tries not to think about it

Jack coming from the same district as Vil but hearing about Leona’s syndicate and more specifically Leona—thinking that this guy is super cool and strong to take others under his wing!! he joins the syndicate and slowly realizes that this kinda fucking sucks

OCTAVINELLE

Azul and the tweels running a restaurant called the Mostro Lounge but it’s actually just a front covering the fact that it’s often used as neutral grounds between different syndicates for deal making. along with that, the three take on jobs like they do in game and all have hidden prosthetics that let them turn into their merforms at will. Azul doesnt like using it often because it makes him kinda clanky

SCARABIA

Kalim being one of many heirs to either a huge company or like an actual ruling family (districts similar to district S im looking at you) and having not yet been exposed to all the horrors of the City yet

Jamil being a butler sworn to Kalim ever since birth. he has some sorta equipment on his legs that emits smoke to temporarily blind his opponents along with typical butler equipment

POMEFIORE

Epel being a (begrudgingly) recent Cinq assoc. fixer who actually finds the dueling aspect pretty fun. he doesnt like how Vil gets him to act cute afterwards even when theres literally blood on his clothes

Rook being a Shi assoc. fixer originally but joining Cinq assoc. when he sees Vil his beauty his grace his Roi du Poison his most precious wecious pookie be—

Vil being a director of a sub section for Cinq assoc. along with being a fashion model. a guilty pleasure he often indulges himself in is being a hero—the last one on the stage—as he wins another duel for the day

IGNIHYDE

Ortho being a robot built in his image after he died right after White Nights and Dark Days. one of his core parts is a memory chip with all his memories locked into it using Jcorp tech

Idia being the heir to a company called Tartaros—its original purpose just being viewing over workshops and making their own specialized equipment. now its purpose is to gather any rogue abnormalities and lock them up to be studied

DIASOMNIA

Silver and Sebek being Claws in (suspended) training that work as Malleus’ bodyguards. they both have the Claw arms but only have access to one serum each—Sebek with a serum that makes him lightning fast and Silver with a serum that stores and multiplies his power every time he falls asleep

Lilia being a bloodfiend that was captured by the Head and has been serving as their one man army ever since. hes been semi retired to act as Malleus’ caretaker and constantly uses tech to make his bloodfiend traits less noticable

Malleus being the son of ????. all the higher ups want him either want him completely under their control to use or dead and honestly either plan is still on the table. since hes naturally in his dragon form and the Head hate non-humans, theyve forbidden him from shapeshifting into his human form else they kill him. he sneaks out often in his human form anyway with the other diasomnia guys using a mask similar to Roland’s mask to make perceiving him as Malleus impossible to do

i should come up with all the equipment and enhancements these guys have. holy shit

[tetzoro]

qimir lore. NOW. 🤲

what is star wars!aims like.... how do you meet....what is the tension like....how does it culminate....what's the ship name.... all questions that must be answered, stat !!! (pretty please <3 luv u and hope u have been well ! tehe)

ADA MY BELOVED !!! oh im so happy you asked :’) ! i’ve been thinking about this so much and im afraid the answer is long so . apologies hehe. as for the ship name, im still workshopping it i fear !!

okay a little bit about me first. in a sense, i’m a grey jedi but uhh . idk if that’ll last with him around tbh lmfao. i’m proficient in my force abilities and im still narrowing down which specialties i want. my lightsaber is purple ofc bc the users that wield it tend to balance good & evil which fits the vibe here. and yeah !! let’s get into it. i’m putting the rest of the stuff below bc it’s long and well, a little spoilers about his backstory. so BEWARE !

i end up as a youngling in coruscant hehe. i grow up with qimir, we train together to become jedi’s and we both struggle with it immensely as we get a little older. he struggles with his own personal convictions about the jedi order and i struggle to let go of my emotions — mostly circulating around him. the pull i’ve felt towards him ever since we met was strong and as a jedi, you have to cut all your attachments down. i’m not sure how much he outwardly returned my affection, but he definitely felt something. this will be important later hehe

he eventually leaves (abandoning me bye) and well, this is where i struggle even more on my path to the light side. because now im angry, devastated, and i can’t let go no matter how much meditation and training the jedi put me under.

i haven’t decided 100% what i do yet. part of me wants to defect and look for him but the other part wants to stay with the jedi because if he’s alive, they’ll be the most resourceful in finding him. i dont have time to make a decision though because i go on a mission with my master and we run into him. i dont know its him at first though because he wears a mask and i cant see into his head.

he’s incredibly powerful. we all get into it and start fighting. he’s able to hold his own against both of us. i’m able to get his mask off and when we lock eyes i completely falter, as does my master because he also knew him from before. he takes the opportunity to strike the guy down (rip) so now its the both of us.

i’m angry. after all this time he’s finally standing before me. i see how far he’s gone and i can’t help but want to chase after him, but i try to keep myself on the light side. ofc he senses my inner turmoil and tries to feed into it. it makes me snap and i attack him. but the whole time im also yelling about how i felt and yada yada. he’s just deflecting my attacks bc they’re uncoordinated since im so lost in emotion and i end up just stopping LOL. he doesn’t actively attack me the whole time, mayhaps bc… he never wanted to hurt me … mhm mhm

i tell him i would’ve gone with him when he left. (which catches him off guard) so he asks me now and im like … kay (down bad). but tbh i already had mixed feelings about the jedi order and i knew after this little event, they wouldn’t take me back.

SO THATS THE ORIGIN BYE THIS IS SO LONG. i’m not sure where i will take it from here. it’s canon divergent sooo it kinda depends on where the show goes if they keep making more. if not then… we just live happily ever after ig & become evil <3

[dragonsarecool]

Febwhump Day 12 - Semi-Conscious

A/N: Marty's head injury from his arrival in 1885 turns for the worse. An alternate opening to Part III.

Seamus was well and truly at a loss.

The strange man who had (seemingly) come out of nowhere and collapsed onto his fence had been in his home for two days, and apart from a brief attempt to stand immediately after the accident, was still yet to regain consciousness.

If anything, he seemed to be growing worse, as Maggie confirmed the lad was now running a decent fever. She'd replaced the cool cloth on his forehead multiple times over the last few hours, yet he continued to remain oblivious to the outside world as his skin grew warmer by the hour. They'd managed to get some fluids and a tiny bit of soup into him, but he otherwise remained stubbornly unconscious. Even an introduction to Maggie's most powerful bath salts wasn't enough to rouse him, and given Seamus knew firsthand how sore one's sinuses were after exposure to them, he realised this man's condition was serious and was showing no signs of improvement.

It hadn't surprised either of the McFlys that the man was muttering various pieces of nonsense in his sleep. Both had seen their fair share of raging fevers and the delirious state of mind that came with it. What had surprised them was the young man's persistence usage of a certain name, and how he'd been screaming it in utter anguish.

Seamus had had to stop him from falling out of the bed during one of his hallucinations. The boy kept raving about a bolt of lightning, pleading for a 'Doc Brown' to avoid it. He yelled and swore with an energy that almost seemed unnatural.

Seamus had never seen a man in such distress, and quickly realised he'd never forget it.

How the man had screamed himself hoarse as he sobbed and begged for his imaginary 'Doc' not to do it.

How bloodshot and swollen his eyes had been on the rare occasions when they were open.

How young the man truly seemed as he cried for his mother, apologising for a deed that was never revealed.

They'd finally managed to sit down for a meal in the early hours of the third morning, though the exhaustion plaguing both of them meant they ate slowly and in relative silence. It hadn't much of a discussion for both Seamus and Maggie to agree that the doctor was desperately needed.

However, Seamus decided it was time to share a thought he'd been experiencing since the man began his delirious shouting. "I've been wonderin', Maggie," He spoke between mouthfuls, "if he's talkin' about the blacksmith?"

Maggie snorted. "What? Emmett Brown? He can't possibly know him, Seamus!" She snapped, bouncing baby William on her lap as she took another mouthful of soup. "Look at his clothes! He's clearly not from around here. Maybe he's got a family member called Brown or something."

"Aye, I know. But I just…" Seamus was at a brief loss for words. "…I just gotta feeling that calling 'im is the right thing to do."

Maggie sighed deeply, realising she was about to indulge her husband yet again in one of his 'feelings'. Had she been in a more ideal state of mind, she probably would've said no. "Alright, Seamus, alright. When you've finished eatin', go see the doctor, and get 'im to fetch Emmett in the mornin'."

"Cheers, love." Seamus took a deep swig of his water. Hope this is a good feeling…

*****

The last person Doc had expected to see on his doorstop at seven AM was the town's doctor, carrying his briefcase and looking anxious. He brushed off his workshop gear, still covered in dust and dirt from the previous day's work. "Not open yet I'm afraid! Is there a problem, sir?"

The doctor adjusted his glasses and sighed. "Yes, sir. It's a bit of an unusual one, Mister Brown. I'm here on behalf of the McFlys."

Doc's stomach dropped. I haven't talked to them for a while! "Y-Yes? What-"

"Seamus left a note on my office window at some unholy hour this morning. They've been tending to a very unwell young man at their farm for a few days, and they seem to think he's related to you somehow," The doctor stated. "I haven't examined him yet as I've only just seen it, but I'm told he's been unconscious for sometime, and keeps saying your name."

It can't be him.

"Surely he means another Emmett?" Doc spoke nervously.

It can't be.

"No, no. Seamus was insistent that it was you."

It can't be! How the hell did he end up at the McFly farm of all places?!

"H-How old did you say this man is?" Doc realised he was stuttering, and prayed the doctor hadn't noticed his anxiousness. Please don't be him please don't be him-

"Not entirely sure, but they described him as fairly young-looking. Early twenties at most," The doctor fiddled with his tie, unfazed by Doc's jumpy mannerism. "Apparently he was sportin' the weirdest outfit they'd ever seen. Some sort of…pink jumpsuit…thing. They had to change him out of it as he was sweatin' so badly."

Dammit! Doc had to lean against the doorframe to stop his legs from giving out. Damn that kid…Goes directly against my orders and then nearly kills himself on his ancestor's farm. "And he's still at the farm?"

"Sure is. Seamus's got nothing to carry him in and he's in no state to ride into town," The doctor stood back, extending his arm outwards. "Can I assume you're intending to accompany me?"

Doc had already adorned his coat and hat before the doctor could finish speaking. He pushed past the physician, a steely gaze of determination etched into his face as he mounted the nearest horse. Marty McFly, don't you dare die on me…

*****

The ride to the McFly farm was forty-five minutes of pure hell for Doc.

Not that he minded riding horses; if anything, he thoroughly enjoyed having the wind rustling through his hair while witnessing one of the most efficient animals on the planet in action. What he would've appreciated was having some sort of background noise to distract him from his thoughts.

I don't know if it's a good thing or not that the doctor hasn't examined him yet. If he was seriously injured I doubt they would've come for me so soon. But anything could've happened to him! Scarlet fever, dysentery, influenza, infection, head trauma-

He was grateful for the interruption as the doctor called ahead to the McFlys, with Seamus waving frantically at the front of the house. It surprised Doc how exhausted the farmer looked, and it did nothing to ease his worries.

Doc barely acknowledged either of the McFlys as they were welcomed inside and led towards the 'mystery' young man. He had to restrain himself from running straight to Marty's side, instead observing with the McFly ancestors from the corner of the bedroom as the doctor began his examination.

He felt nauseous just looking at Marty.

Doc had never seen a person so unwell. The fact it was his best friend made it all the worse.

Marty's ghostly-white skin was slick with sweat, visible even in the candlelight. His hair was wet and matted in places, sticking out at uneven angles that would rival the hairstyles of the punks in 1985. As flushed as his cheeks were, Doc could see how much weight had fallen off them in the few days Marty had been here. Kid, what have you done to yourself?!

It only took a few minutes of examination for the doctor to produce a diagnosis. "He's definitely got a serious concussion. I'd call it a traumatic head wound, to be honest, especially given what Seamus told me about the fall. Plus this wound on his scalp has a nasty infection in it."

That's it? The words almost fell from Doc's mouth in disbelief. A concussion and infection? He looks like he's five minutes from death!

"I cleaned it as best I could, but…" Maggie trailed off, clearly feeling guilt in being unable to improve Marty's condition.

"You did the best you could, ma'am," The doctor reassured her. "If neither of you folks had found him, he'd likely be dead. In saying that though, if he doesn't start regaining consciousness this morning I'd like to move him into town for more intensive care."

He might as well be in this time period. Doc's thoughts quickly soured as the gravity of the situation set in. "How did come across you folks anyway?"

He never got the answer, for the room was suddenly filled with a glorious sound.

"…Doc?"

The voice was so hoarse that if the others hadn't heard it as well, Doc would've been convinced it was a hallucination. He dashed over to Marty, clasping the young man's clammy hand in his own as he felt his heart pounding in his throat. Damn…I gotta come up with a name for him!…Who's that Western guy Marty keeps referencing? Eastwood? "…Clint? Are you with us, son?"

"Is he family of yours?" Seamus asked tiredly. "Seems pretty fond of ya."

It took Doc a moment to conjure an answer. He gave a brief nod before gently stroking his fingers through Marty's hair. "We're so close that he might as well be my son." Good thing Marty's so out of it…I don't think I could admit it to his face.

Seemingly satisfied with that answer, Seamus nodded and wrapped an arm around his wife's shoulders. "We'll leave ya be for a while, Mister Brown. You don't mind if we steal some rest for ourselves?"

"Oh goodness, yes! Please, please go and sleep," Doc said hurriedly. "You've done so much for him already."

"I'll go set myself up to clean that wound, Mister Brown, but you're more than welcome to stay with him," The doctor grabbed his briefcase and headed for the kitchen. "Shan't be long."

No sooner than the door closed did Marty stir again. "Dad?…" He whispered weakly. His head lolled to the side as his eyes fluttered open, staring at Doc with a glaze that told him he still wasn't fully lucid. "Dad?"

At least you're awake. That's good enough for now. Doc smiled and patted the young man's hair comfortingly, checking that the others had indeed left the room before answering. "No, Marty. Not quite, but close enough."

[butchsophiewalten]

haii i like JUST watched the walten files… idk if this blog is still alive, but im tryin to learn the lore and if u could give me a run-down of like the timeline/lore i would rlly appreciate it ^_^ TY!!!

Well i'm definitely still active, but this is kind of a tall ask! Also pretty complicated since there's a lot of fringe stuff that I care a lot about but probably isn't actually that important for a new fan to familiarize themself with right away, and sometimes it's hard for someone like me to differentiate that from the essential stuff. That said, I've written a lot here so it's going under a cut.

Just to cover all my bases: If you've just watched the series for the first time, be sure that you're also checking out the two hidden videos. They're both present in the Official Playlist in the order you're meant to view them, but there's really nothing wrong with watching both of them last, you shouldn't be that confused. These are technically and literally bonus content, but they ARE lore-important.

Also, a mutual of mine, @gir-posting put together a neocities site a while ago specifically with the intention of helping people who are new to The Walten Files get their bearings with it, and you can find that here:

Just as a note and to add my own pedantic criticism, this page eventually guides you towards the series' companion website, Findjackwalten.com, and provides archived links of all* the iterated versions of that site's pages. It's a LOT, don't worry about catching up on everything, it is literally all just bonus content to make the wait between episodes more fun. The Twfinfo page here also calls it an ARG, which i would not consider it by any stretch of the word's definition. It's just a website.

*some pages were never archived and Twfinfo is also missing the most recent findjackwalten update from August 15th.

I recognize that literally none of this is what you asked me for! This is because I honestly have a really difficult time trying to summarize the events of The Walten Files. But this is the part where I try:

In the late 50s, two college friends named Jack Walten and Felix Kranken came up with an idea for animatronic performers that, through the years, would eventually morph into the concept for Bon's Burgers. Sometime between 1968 and 1972, Jack and Felix's company, Bunny Smiles Incorporated, would partner with a company called CyberFun Tech to assist them in their Bon's Burgers project, providing them with resources and engineering expertise to create those animatronic performers they had envisioned. After lots of work, Bon's Burgers was set to open on June 1st, 1974.

This is the part you probably know. On May 2nd, 1974, Jack asked Felix for a favor he was needing. He was doing overtime at the workshop trying to get things ready for the opening, but his two youngest kids, Edd and Molly, needed someone to drive them to a school party they wanted to attend. His wife, Rosemary, couldn't take them, because she was taking his eldest daughter Sophie to the dentist. Felix agreed to the favor. You know what happened then.

This is where it gets fuzzy. After Edd & Molly's disappearances, the Bon's Burgers opening was postponed to June 28th. It seems like Jack and Felix more or less continued to collaborate on the project until Jack's disappearance on June 11th. We have no idea what happened to him after that.

The restaurant opened. At some point presumably between Jack's disappearance and the 30th of June, the animatronic Bon went strange. The lead engineer, Susan Woodings, decided to examine him after noticing some "irregularities" during his performance during the day, and he violently attacked her, then stuffed her damaged-but-still-living body into the animatronic Banny, where she eventually starved to death.

Bon's massacre would continue with the elusive employee, Charles B., who we continue to know next to nothing about except that he ended up in Boozoo, and would finish with Rosemary Walten, who had been returning to the restaurant regularly with hopes of finding her missing husband. The screams heard during Rosemary's attack and dismemberment were reported by the neighborhood and led to the restaurant's immediate closure. All of the restaurants assets, including its animatronic performers, were relocated to a storage unit in the middle of a nearby forest.

Over the years Felix pulled a lot of cheap merchandising schemes to try and keep the Bon's Burgers and Bunny Smiles brand relevant in the consciousness of Brighton. Lots of toys and direct-to-video cartoons and even a reasonably popular television series. In the late 70s he put forward a plan to fix up all the animatronics and reopen the Bon's Burgers restaurant in a new location. The first version of the plan went really terribly, since they just went and hired some teenaged engineers and put them on crunch time to try and fix everything wrong with four half-decade old complicated machines. One of those engineers, Ashley Parks, ended up poking around in some back hallways she wasn't supposed to see and was killed by Bon for snooping. She ended up in the animatronic Billy, who was present at the old Bon's Burgers location but has been kept suspiciously separate from the other animatronics for years.

Flash forward to 1982. Sophie Walten, the only living member of the Walten family, has been living with medication-induced amnesia for years. This is until her girlfriend Jenny introduces her to the BunnyFarm arcade machine, which has just been installed in the basement of the hotel where Jenny and she live. Through the machine, the spirits of her dead friends and family begin communicating with her, and she learns a lot of the information I just relayed to you. And that's where we are, really.