#Experiments

[lamaery]

These are the actual colours I painted with, but I played around a bit with gradient maps to get a few variations... I like them all, and cannot really decide which I prefer. Ref is from this.

[utopicwork]

Hmm not quite

[viny-kun]

Damn you, Hojo

@vincentvalentineweek Day2: Technology

All this technology in the hands of the worst sadistic pervert in the universe…

[geometricfractal]

It occurred to me just after I posted my last poll that polls serve a very interesting second purpose, on top of causing fights over food choices and determining the best blorbo. The little "67 votes" marker is perhaps the most accurate look at how many people have seen any given post, and it is always far bigger than the number of notes! A poll with two reblogs might have fifty votes! There's so many people on this website, it's amazing!

So I want to try something. An experiment, if you will, to see how many people actually see a given post. For science. And for the little gremlin in me who likes experiments and numbers and statistics and wants new experiments and numbers and statistics to play with.

[forgetful-nerd]

2012! Donatello has bad posture because he’s gotta look down at his short-ass brothers all the damn time.

I mean, look at how tiny they are compared to him:

[horseblob]

new spell

Claire model by Squidney: (https://squidney.itch.io/claire-higsby-3d-model) and the song is track number 66 "VisHisS" on the SLARPG soundtrack by Beatrix Quinn :3 (https://beatrixquinn.bandcamp.com)

[fhtagn-and-tentacles]

SCIENCE FICTION

by zhihui Su

[ratbastardacademic]

hey babygirl, want to come back to my place and I'll inject you with this totally safe, definitely not toxic, chemical substance?

[monstersteam]

Some concept designs of the trains with more mechanical faces

[onitekkart]

being meguca is pretty good actually

[undead-knick-knack]

[whumporama]

I see alot of stuff for winged whumpees with bird like wings. But what about winged whumpees with more batlike wings. Obviously there aren’t like, feathers to pluck. What can you do with a whumpee whose wings are more batlike?

(You got me looking up bat wing facts and they're so cool! Anyway-)

Maybe they get compared to Whumpees who do have feathered wings. They get called ugly and weird.

Their wing tears, either through activity, or Whumper stretches them to see how far it can go

They heal fast; Whumper injures them again and again just to see how fast they can heal.

Their wings are sensetive, maybe Whumper or the environment overloads them with sound or vibrations. Even curling up doesn't help, they can't hide begind anything

Whumper likes to display their Whumpee. So they drives nails through their wings, keeping them spread out for all to see

Whumpee is forced to fly with injured wings. Either by Whumper or in a desperate escape, or maybe to save someone

Whumpee gets called a demon, hated for how they look

In the aftermath, Whumpee's wings are horribly damaged. The membrane is torn and will never heal well again, so it just looks like a skeleton on their back

Since the main structure of the wings are bone-like, maybe one breaks, leaving Whumpee in horrible pain with a deformed wing

Their wings get damaged and burned by too long exposure to heat

[nemfrog]

Wadding (left) and paper treated with flame retardant don't ignite.

Fire tests with textiles : flannelette "ordinary", flannelette "fine finish", art muslin, curtain net, scenic canvas, as also tissue paper and wadding; untreated and treated with Snowdon's Flame-Proofing. 1912.

Internet Archive

[knoepfl]

Laugh Until It Hurts

Characters:

Reader – Former circus clown, once joyful and full of light, now twisted by Jerome's relentless manipulation.

Jerome Valeska – Gotham’s notorious madman, obsessed with breaking down Reader's innocence to reveal the darkness underneath.

Trigger Warnings:

themes of psychological manipulation

kidnapping

non-consensual experimentation

loss of identity

mental trauma

Masterlist

Words: 1231

---

You woke up in darkness, the weight of confusion pressing down on your chest as you blinked into the dimness. The room around you felt like a stranger’s nightmare. Bare walls closed in around you, cold and damp, drawing a shiver that clung to your skin, gnawing at your sense of reality.

How long had you been here? Days? Weeks? You couldn’t say. Time had warped into a blur of shadows and insanity. Memories of laughter and light—the circus tent, children’s smiles, the joy you’d once known—felt so distant, they might as well have been someone else’s. You couldn’t even remember what your own smile had looked like.

And he was there, just outside your field of vision. Watching.

“Ahh, my little sunshine is awake!” Jerome’s voice sang through the room, a sickly-sweet tone dripping with mockery. He stepped into the light, his face twisting into a manic grin that stretched his lips wide, a sight that had once belonged to someone familiar but now looked like a mask.

He leaned forward, his sharp green eyes piercing through you as he tilted his head, examining you as if you were some strange insect. “How’s my favorite clown?” His grin widened as he saw you flinch. “Feeling a little dim today, aren’t we?”

You swallowed, trying to ignore the bile rising in your throat. He had always been quiet back at the circus, a boy overshadowed by shadows in his own mind. But you pitied him, tried to offer him comfort, though his gaze always unsettled you. You remembered catching that look a few times back then—too intense, like he was studying you, waiting for something he couldn’t yet name.

But pity had turned into something else entirely the moment he’d dragged you away, chaining you to a world crafted by his sick mind. Jerome had broken down every piece of you, pulling apart your joy and light, tearing through each shred of happiness like it was something he could dissect.

Yet, he wasn’t finished.

“Look at you…” he murmured, leaning close, his breath brushing against your skin. “All that cheer, all that sunshine—gone.” His eyes sparkled with a twisted satisfaction. “You’re a work of art now, my dear. Almost like me.”

“No… not like you,” you mumbled, voice raw and cracked. It felt strange to speak, like trying to remember a song you’d long since forgotten. You barely recognized the sound.

Jerome chuckled, stepping back and watching you with a smirk that made your stomach twist. “You keep saying that,” he mused. “But here you are, right where I want you.” He snapped his fingers in front of your face. “Where *you* belong.”

Your head pounded as memories—real or imagined, you couldn’t tell—flashed through your mind. He’d been relentless, experimenting with your psyche, pushing you to places where darkness crept into the cracks of your mind. He was always watching, waiting for each fracture, every crack in your sanity that brought him closer to his goal.

Some part of you wanted to hate him, to fight back, but the rest of you felt too exhausted, too worn down to remember how.

“Come on,” he said, a dangerous smile spreading over his face. “Let’s see that happy clown of mine. You used to be so good at making people laugh. Let’s show me that beautiful little act.”

You wanted to resist, but some part of you—whatever was left—felt compelled to obey. Your arms lifted, slow and unsteady, as you stretched your mouth into a smile, hollow and fractured. You moved with jerky, exaggerated motions, mimicking the carefree routines you used to perform at the circus, but there was a shadow over it now. Each gesture felt like a distortion of who you’d once been.

And Jerome was delighted.

“There it is!” he crowed, clapping his hands in delight. “The sunshine, the laughter—all twisted up just for me.” His voice was thick with mock adoration, his eyes gleaming with something darker, something possessive. “Oh, I’ve waited so long to see you like this.”

You bit down on your lip, trying to hold back the shudder that threatened to escape. The sting of pain was grounding, a tether to a version of yourself you couldn’t quite let go of. But each day, each twisted performance made it harder to hold on. The old you was slipping, fading into the shadows, a stranger’s memory.

“Jerome…” Your voice was barely a whisper, a ghostly echo of what it used to be. “Why… why are you doing this?”

He cocked his head, feigning confusion, though his grin betrayed his amusement. “Why?” he repeated, chuckling. “Why wouldn’t I? All that joy, that innocence of yours... it was *sickening*. You thought you could pity me, huh? Poor, sad little Jerome?”

His laughter filled the room, loud and unhinged, bouncing off the walls as he leaned closer, his eyes glinting with that wild, uncontrollable energy you’d once thought you understood. “No, sunshine. I didn’t need pity. I needed someone who could see the *truth*.”

You shivered, shrinking back. But even as you tried to retreat, the part of you he’d molded, the piece of you he’d twisted and broken, craved his approval, needed it. That dark, fractured piece felt like it was growing, a sliver of his chaos digging into your mind and taking root.

His voice dropped to a low, menacing whisper as he moved closer, his fingers brushing over your face. “But look at you now,” he purred, his voice a poisonous lullaby. “All broken and beautiful… just for me.”

He caught your chin in his hand, forcing you to look at him, his face inches from yours. “Say it, sunshine,” he murmured, his breath warm against your skin. “Tell me you’re just like me.”

Your heart pounded, each beat a reminder of what you once were. But the words slipped out anyway, a hollow echo. “I’m… just like you.”

Jerome’s grin widened, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes. “There’s my little clown,” he murmured, pulling back with a smirk. “Let’s see that smile.”

With a shuddering breath, you forced yourself to smile, the motion twisted and broken, as though you were wearing someone else’s skin. Jerome’s laughter filled the room once more, his applause loud and mocking as he watched you contort yourself into his perfect little masterpiece.

And there, in that fractured grin, you felt it—the crack in your mind widening, the last piece of yourself slipping away, swallowed by the darkness he’d planted inside you. A new laugh bubbled up in your throat, a low, sinister chuckle that was nothing like the one you used to know.

It was his laugh, echoed through your voice, and Jerome looked like he’d won the world.

“See?” he whispered, almost tenderly. “I knew you had it in you.” He leaned close, his lips brushing your ear as he murmured, “And now, you’re mine.”

His words were like a binding spell, sealing away whatever remnants of joy and innocence you’d once had. But as his laughter filled the room and yours joined it, there was a new sense of freedom, twisted and broken but undeniable. The old you had died in his hands, but something darker had taken its place—something that no longer feared the shadows but reveled in them.

And together, you laughed, the sound twisted and haunting, echoing through the darkness as if it could devour the world.

---

Author’s Note:

Thank you for reading! I wanted to explore a darker, psychological take on Jerome's character and how he could twist the mind of someone who once brought him light. The Reader’s descent into his world represents both a loss of innocence and a transformation that she might not even realize she’s undergone. Jerome’s character is one of manipulation and chaos, so it was interesting to show how he’d "reshape" someone who once pitied him into something that mirrors him. Please feel free to share your thoughts on this twisted journey, and stay safe!