#hullabaloo idv

[sealkieche]

habubu idv my wife ...... (nov. 2024)

[sicgtiti]

i love the anguish Hullabaloo has. it reflects perfectly the desperation of Mike the moment Hullabaloo circus got burnt down

[veryaren]

crappy mikes before bed

I don't like how hullabaloo looks in this drawing but wtv! We ball

[sleepy-fiction]

Please Madame!

Weeping Clown x Fem!Reader

syn: Pegging Weeping Clown like it's his last day on earth.

tags: pegging, dom!reader, sub!weepy, pure fucking + a lil sprinkle of romance, no plot, barely beta read

a/n: I've always loved this man since release. And his voice was so nice to hear... i finished the story and was like aw thats so sad- OK time to write him getting pegged. one day I'll have to tell my partner about this account uhh... uhhhh erre uhhmmm

"F-fuu- Agh! Madam," Weepy cries his prosthetic fingers gripping the sheets, his face beat red beneath half wipped face paint, a color matching his blushed ass. He was bent down on his knees on the bed, ass perked, perfectly in line with your strap as you pegged him.

His moans were high and raspy, loud and thrilled. He shivered with delight, as his aching, reddened cockhead leaked dribbles of slick. His cheeks were a bruised red as you squeezed and smacked them, each time earning a deliciously sweet whimper.

"Mmh, is it good, sir," you giggled, patronizing.

He squeaked out, "Ah! Ah-ang... Amazing!"

You raised your hand, crashing your palm down against his bruised ass cheek again, watching him jerk out. He cried, his voice shaking the walls of the manor room; you reached and grabbed chunks of his hair. "Guh! Aaa-aa," he trilled, arching viciously into your touch.

In this angle, you fucked him deeper, your fake cockhead rubbing against his spot and digging deep into his gut. "Oo-mm... Fuck. M-Madam," he moaned out long and drawed out, his eyes escaping to the back of his head as he squirted his second orgasm into the sheets.

You dropped his head seconds later, and it fell limply forward, through top of his head grazing the bed as he peered down. You took the opportunity to grab your black paddle, meeting the cold leather to his bruised ass. Weeping jumped in surpise, his head flinging up, while his cock twitched in anticipation. "Madam! A-Are you go-going to whip me... Again," he hushed out, pulling chunks of the bedsheets white-knuckle tight.

"Ooh, changed your mind," you teased, drawing circles into his skin with the leather.

"N-No! I would n-never," he gasped, his own shame and humiliation long fled his body. Before you could respond, he stuttered, "More please, I'll be g-good... I won't jerk away!"

Desire crawled down your body, burrowing itself deep to your already soaked cunny. A shudder leaves your lips as you sigh, "Good boy." A crack splits the air as you leave your first mark on him with the paddle, and Weeping calls out intensely, his back arching into you. His body shivered all over as you thrusted a medium pace and rose the paddle once more, cracking it down against his ass.

"Mad-aam," he cries, his voice breaking up into useless sounds, "oncemore-oncemorepleasepleaeeplea--" you crack a stronger hit against him again, and he sparks like fireworks. He shoots forward, launching his face into the sheets, jerking his perky ass off your dildo, leaving it puckering for purchase in the wind.

You grit in annoyance, "Weeping," scolding him with your displeased hush.

Still in a daze, he didn't notice between his drawn-out orgasm, not until you cracked him alert. "Aah!" He squealed.

"You pulled off me again. You naughty clown, I'll really punish you now," you spat.

"Madaam... I'm soorry I'll be good. I'll b-be good," he moaned. You couldn't see it, but on his sweaty sticky face was a dirty smile, a smile as he wiggled his ass in the air.

"There is no next time," You plugged his hole up quick, taking the paddle in your left hand and cracking it against his left cheek. You trusted intensely, paddling him to the beat of your thrusts. His voice spiked out, his back arching off the bed as he shot his head up, his hands shaking against the pressure.

Off his lips came senseless mumbo, as his hair stuck to his scarred face, a face that smeared paint into the sheets before, and left him but nothing but faintest to cover said scars. You'd be lying if you said you didn't orgasm just then, just as his voice hit its limit and turned into a raspy, airy mess.

"A-Amazuh-- Madame," he cried with all his heart as he shot out milky sperm. Sperm that was liquid and slick, barely carrying any semen from all his prior ejaculations.

You slowed down, dropping the paddle and grinding your base against his ass, forcing it deep into his body. He perked, whole body spasming as he buried his head against the sheets. His pants were buttery, the sweat dripping down his body lustfully. This was a much needed cool down for him and for you.

"Madam," he whispered, peaking over his shoulder to gaze into your eyes.

"Yes, clown," you murmured, half listening while you squeezed his ass, panting softly.

"M-May, may we switch... Uh... Positions? I want to l-lay on my back... I don't think I-I can't hold myself up f... For longer," he takes a gulp in-between his words, his gorgeous red hair wet with sweat.

"Alright," you pulled out of him, causing his toes to curl, "You need water?"

He flipped onto his back, his cute wide eyes staring up at you so sweetly, so innocently, "No-mm... 'M okay for now. T-Thank you, mistress," he smiled. You almost felt bad for punishing him.

You grabbed a pillow from above, ordering him to raise his head and sliding it beneath him when he does. He smiles so kindly at you, his hands curled up against his heart. You sigh wistfully and place one last pillow to prop up his ass.

He suddenly squeaked.

You perked, "What?"

"M-My semen is cold against my back-! T-The... The whole spot beneath me is wet," he cried in his comfort, his eyebrows weaving in stress. You giggled, pinning him down and lining up with his hole.

You coo between lidded eyes, "Aw, I almost feel bad for you." He whimpers pitifully. You gaze into his eyes right as you plunge in, soaking up his every feature. That's also when you notice most of his face paint had been wiped off. It was a euphoric treat for you.

Watching as his mouth fell slack, the way his eyebrows knitted, his eyes disappearing behind the clouds. But also, noticing his scarred cheeks, the way the corners of his lip suffered worse scars. How his cleft revealed his flashy, pearly whites. You'd be lying if you said you didn't orgasm again then too.

You gulped, not noticing how you still had been. Long enough for Weeping to wrap his arms around your shoulders, "Mistress," he hums raspy. The sound is quiet, gentle, and almost loving. It snaps you right out of the slow-motion replay.

You gulp, now aware of how your beating heart "Yes, Clown?"

He reaches and nuzzles his forehead and nose against your face, "'M ready now. I-I promise I can tuh... Take more," he whispers. Just as he says so, he leans back into the pillows, his red hair sprawling, a perfect match to his beat red cheeks, wistfully eyes, and caring smile. God. He was fucking beautiful.

You thrusted slow and deep, watching his face twist up in excitement. You gripped his hips tightly, swallowing back the feelings bubbling up. You knew you should have never let him turn around. God.

He cracks another moan, easing his head back, closing his eyes- completely succumbing to your will.

Fuck.

"Weeping," you pant, feeling passion heat in your veins, "your face paint rubbed off."

He gasps suddenly, "N-No! My--" but before he could cover himself with his hands, you slammed downwards, catching his wrist with both hands and leaning forward, your face inches apart. He squeaks and squirms, but you keep yourself there, stating deep into his eyes.

He has nowhere else to look but your intensity, no way to flee from your teasing yet perfect thrusts. His eyes flee behind his eyelids, succumbing once more, his jaw hanging open in his vulnerability. He felt so powerless it felt-- A warm shot of cum splattered against your belly, as you quickly looked down to see his weeping cock, spitting up on itself.

"Ooh, you like this, huh? You like how powerless you are? You like the Madam looking at your pretty face, huh," you teased.

"Yes- yes ma'am," he leans his head away, revealing his gorgeous, lean, pale neck.

He was so lean, tall, so slanky.

You swallowed thickly.

You pulled off his wrists, but he kept his arms there, and you sunk into his neck, nipping and biting down on the milky flesh. His moans rose, spiking, the vibrations striking through his body. You too felt the familar feeling of your pussy clenching, pleasure from purely watching and experiencing this with him, was drawing you near an orgasm.

You panted and grabbed his hips, burying your teeth in his neck for purchase as you thrusted faster and faster. Riding out his high, ans reaching your own euphoria, as he released his last moan, "Oh y-yes! Madame!!"

You came at the same time, dropping your tired body onto his larger, skinnier one, slowly pulling out of him. "G-God," you moaned, feeling how disgustingly ruined your panties had turned.

"Amazing-uh... Mmgh... Madame," he murmured, gently caressing your head.

This was bad.

You were falling for a one night stand.

You only needed to break steam off in this damn manor, not...

You peered up at him, watching him stare down at you so tenderly, "Madam," he hushed it as if he worshiped the name.

Ah.

You were in big trouble now.

[legitidvleaks]

Dynamic Portraits

[v0idprince]

❥꧁ It’s Showtime! ꧂❥

Margaretha Zelle, on an aerial hoop! This is actually one of her b-tier costumes I really enjoy, “Spotlight Affect.” I’m also getting back into Cabaret (the musical) a lot, and Burlesque (the art form) so expect to see more pieces inspired by that. Might make an AU, we shall see

I hope you enjoy!!

[ratlikesart5]

i noticed i messed him up a little so here is him fixed

[le0sh]

《HULLABALOO LORE》

I had this project actually stranded in my gallery weeks after the final chapter of hullabaloo dropped, I was lowkey hesitant to post this and I still am! This was originally gonna be a tiktok post but I decided to just post it here 😓 it was def smth that looked better in my head and the end result didn't look really great, but this was kind of an attempt of getting out of art & editing block at the time so yk!

[teatraps]

Been driving myself insane trying to figure out what the other 2 perfume bottles are, somebody HELP ME!

My best guess for the 3rd one is that it’s like an inverse to regular Euphoria that brings memories back. Margie brings up that the perfume has a damp smell and when she starts to hallucinate about her past she’s floating in water. Also from a symbolic standpoint, Margie is always trying to run from her past so since she disliked the scent of the 3rd perfume it could be an indication that she also dislikes the smell that takes her back to the past. And lastly, with her past at lakeside, a damp smell would be familiar to her and also something she dislikes and wants to escape cause she hated her life there.

As for the first one, I don’t even know. I genuinely have no clue what that could possibly be. I know lily of the valleys have really positive meanings and I know Margie liked it, but I haven’t got any idea what that could mean. Vera brings up a reeky floral scent of a lily in her 2nd letter so that could be something but I really don’t know.

The middle one is obviously Euphoria. Iconic purple bottle and everything. Could even go further and say the scent of “wood burning” is symbolic for Margie and escaping her past with the fire from the circus. Could also be that fire has the ability to completely destroy something and turn it to ash with no trace of what it used to be. To top it all off, when Margie starts stressing she immediately goes for this bottle because it relaxes her. This is also why I’m hesitant to say that it was Euphoria that caused her hallucinations in the room. Euphoria has always been tied to relaxation and taking away painful memories so unless there’s a drawback to Euphoria that brings memories back in full force (which we haven’t seen any mention of as far as I know) I don’t think Euphoria caused it.

Going back to my theory about the 3rd bottle, I wonder why Vera would make something like that in the first place. Vera wants to escape her past, so why make a perfume that brings memories back? Also, damp smells aren’t all that pleasant in general and Vera has a particularly sensitive nose so I can’t imagine her wanting to make that. My best guess to that is it could be a character arc thing. Her 5th letter already mentions this whole mission to erase her memories thing isn’t fulfilling her. Maybe she turns around and makes a perfume to bring her memories back since her portrait does say her true nature is “opposite of what she once fantasized about.”

I could even tack on the fact Vera acts way different from how her deduction model theorized she would. Making a perfume that brings memories back could be a part of that since Orpheus might’ve underestimated her ability to face her past at some point and even go as far as to use the provisions he gave her to break out of the plan set for her in the deduction model for game 5 (small reference to Judith the dove using the key Murro gave Vera to trap her and turning it around to liberate herself and the other actresses)

I don’t know, I’m scraping for game 5 scraps in an event that has almost nothing to do with them and I know game 5 isn’t getting an event like this until I’m probably a junior in college (being generous). I am desperate.

[onesacrificiallamb]

Blows him up with my mind repeatedly

[sealkieche]

welcome to freaky v

[clownngore]

I LOVE HIM I LOVE HIM

[sicgtiti]

he's so edible

[veryaren]

Hullabaloo shtpost..... If u care....

you have to guess which duo I think is the funniest (blatantly obvious)

ALSO. LORE YAP BELOW.

Replayed stupid fucking closin night for the 3rd time. The fact Mike tells Murro that he'll "see him later" makes me wanna kms. BECAUSE NO!!!!! You will NOT!!!!! unless you see him at the PEARLY GATES!!!!!!!! also vio death kills me as always. as everyone does. the animation of her hallucination was so fascinating and so horrifying once you recognize what is happening. very "what remains of edith finch" in grandeur.

Morton brothers were everything I wanted always. Thanks idv. I LOVE THEM SO MAWCHHHHGGGGBNNN. sooo awesome. THE WAY MIKE SMILES WHEN MURRO ARRIVES IS SO SWEET. that's his older brother....in addition to that. going back and reading murro's diary from previous deduction playthroughs is even MORE painful now. he and violetta are so compassionate they are every thighg.. .

I do still want to know more about them before the fire!!!! Didn't clarify much on their relationships but it's implied Joker, Mike, and Murro knew each other the longest. With Joker saying "Mike has loved stars and fire since he was little" and "Murro has always loved to play hero." And then. Murro w/ the "fixing Bernard's tent back in the day!"

I just need.... CONTENT THAT DOESN'T BURN. I need just SOME of. the good times. BECAUSE. Margaretha even sometimes missed the company of the other members. And if she would even MISS anyone from the place where she was hurt repeatedly. They had to be at least somewhat close (coping). I need them all to be happy

I NEED TO DRAW MARG BUT I'M ACTUALLY GOING THROUGH SUCH A BAD DROUGHT RNNNNB AUGHHHHH. HER DEATH IS SO CONSISTENTLY MISINTERPRETED as well as marg herself.

the description for this scene in the selection menu is so murderous. 'There is no more escape for Natalie. But perhaps Margaretha can," <- essentially it. FUCK.

do you hate me. do you want me gutted. BECAUSE YOU DID IT. she just wanted to live her life...likr anyone...NEVER EVER antagonize her for wanting to live a good life. I don't trust u if you think she is manipulative/evil at heart. YOU WOULD LIE TO A PSYCHO KILLER CLOWN IF HE WAS LOVING ON YOU TOO!!!!!!!!

this story was so fun and interesting and I hope idv continues to make complex games like it. and I also hope they get better vocal casting because FUCKING Nagito Komaeda and a man barely even trying to sound CLOSE to 45 did not cut it for my goats the Morton brothers. Please. if I pull up game 0 and Emil sounds like nerd from boyfriends you don't know what I'll do. xoxo

[sleepy-fiction]

Weeping Clown Drabble

Weeping Clown x Reader. | Joker x Reader. 🤡🚀

Weeping Clown x Reader. | Joker x Reader. 🤡🚀

syn: an exploration of your relationship with Joker post Hullabaloo game, detailing your relationship's sinful sicknesses and dove-like health.

tgs: fluff, angst, comfort fic, mild sex mentions, violetta lives (f u idv devs), NSFW but not smut, very sweet read! Not proofread

3k Word Estimate

Calm, quiet moments with the weeping clown.

Snuggly cuddling up with him, both of you undressed, with your body pressed against his. Laying serenely on his chest, his hands wrapped tight around your back, your face near his collarbones, the top of your head familiarizing itself with the bottom of his chin.

His prosthetic has long since been abandoned on the floor. He's in no hurry to leave not for a very long while. His breaths are slow and deep, his chest rising and falling, picking up your head and body before carrying them back down low. The warmth of his thighs envelope your legs on either side, and you've turned your hips a bit to give his private area some place. But you love being here, drowning in him.

The smell of his body, face paint, orange scented lotion, and wants of hair spray mingle in with your senses. Setting you at ease to his unique scent. The sounds of his breath the fireplace, and the generator outside the cabin humming away only added to the sunset hues that washed in from the window.

Ever since surviving the manor, the two of you have become so lazy.

Spending lazy morning wrapped up together, not knowing where Joker ends and you begin. And ending your long days the same way you began, only this time with full bellies and drained muscles from hard work.

Weeping was so warm. At times, he was his own heater. You always clocked it as the radiance from his heart ebbing out to the world, and how it melted on to your cheek. The covers were barely on you, they were tangled up somewhere beneath you and him, barely covering your bottom, simply because you couldn't let the muscles there get remotely cold.

And oh, how Joker's long, slanky arms trapped you to his radiance. The contrast of cold metal fingertips drumming up your body made you shudder, but they soon absorbed the mountains of heat the two of you created simply by holding each other.

And oh, how your ears were soon graced with a serene little melody. A raspy hum trailling out his strung body, as his chin shifts above you, all to place a much needed kiss against the top of your head. It's met with delighted chimes from you, chimes that only make him stay, aggresively peppering your head, each time growing stronger with a rough passion.

It's only when you squeak and wiggle your head that he finally comes too, sucking in a huge breath and flipping his head back where it belongs. He releases his sigh hard, as if he were merely drowning seconds ago, and is now coming up for much needed air.

The world felt like it was underwater before he let you in before he met you.

You met shortly after Hullabaloo broke down. He stole the carpentry job position you had been working so hard to get, earning more wages despite how long you had already been working there. You hated him, you were so envious. But then you learned of how sweet he was. How kind and thoughtful, how attentive he was to your needs. Then, almost like magic, the two of you clicked, and fell head over heels in love so suddenly.

You did everything in your power to slow things down, you were scared of love.

But his intimacy, his affections, that soft doey look in his eyes crept it's way around.

Then he got that letter.

He never told you much about that circus he used to work for. Not much other than it burned down, that nobody ever found the culprit. But you saw that look in his eyes. It was a look you had never-ever seen him wear.

It was this stiff, tormented look, like a veteran of war slowly dissociating, slowly shrinking away to horrid memories. He had this weird air about him since getting this letter. Serious, cold, quiet, distant, defensive... And you hate to say it, demented.

He was closing you out. You hated it.

And you hated even more how he decided to play that performance, despite how every part of his body seemed so distressed at the mere mention of it. Its like he didn't know the stress his body was displaying, like he didn't know it was bad.

It was hurting him, chewing away at him deeply, but he didn't even know it.

You knew it.

So you knew you wouldn't let him go alone.

You arrived at the manor with him. Watching him dress himself in this creepy, unsettling way. The makeup and get up of a clown, not the carpenter that you knew. Nothing was wrong about the makeup, it was fun, it was just the unsettling, wounded look in his eyes paired with that crazed, deluded smile of joy strung up on his lips.

He worried you so much. He acted so displaced. As if he were a character in a performance, trying so hard to pull the knives out of others while ignoring the lethal spear lodged in his back. You tried to hold him at night, but he was never in his room. The times you could get him alone, he could barely form coherent sentences, shaking and muttering, eyes lost in a cloud of delusion.

He was scaring you. So you held him, you swarmed him and trapped him there. Even when he tried to leave, ever so oddly in the middle of the night. You woke up (as for some estranged reason, you couldn't sleep at night, and had your own set of terrifying, unexplainable delusions), and kept him.

You wanted to leave early. Everyone there was acting strange. Everyone there was unsettled and holding back. All bottled up, each having their own twitch, their own characters that ignited when they were around eachother. And when the game itself started, you and the spider girl, were forced to sit out as the "audience". The blonde from before, whose name you've slowly begun to forget, liked to called you the "Judge" or an unbiased set of eyes.

You sat in a tent with the spider, watched the blonde dress himself as a clown, and hide away. And Weeping, a girl who you've assumed was "Natalie," entered in shortly after, ignoring both you and the spider; as any character before, an audience should.

Shortly after.

Things unfolded.

You learned the truth about your clown the hard way. And the blonde, the blonde became so obsessed with your "verdict" of Joker.

It was horrifying. Horrifying how his hounding of you started this weird, unnatural reaction from the spider and the clown. They morphed into... Creatures you didn't know.

You were barely able to calm the clown down through your fear, but it didn't stop how Mike too began to warp from his own confusion.

And when your verdict came.

"All of you are guilty."

You said those words not knowing the backstory behind the circus hullabaloo, behind this "Sergei" or anything else. Only knowing the chaos that unfolded between the spider, the clown, and the acrobat of the hullabaloo circus.

Somehow, somehow you were able to end the cat and mouse chase. Somehow, somehow you escaped, tugging along Joker- Joker who looked large and monstrous along with you with all of your might. You fought so hard to bring him with you, fighting tooth in nail, fighting like a rat backed into a corner.

And when you finally arrived home, slept it off, the days following it where filled with the bitter weeping of your beloved clown. He tried to tell you all of it, sober, no longer overcome with whatever it was that the manor made you all feel. But you didn't let him.

You let the chapter be closed. You let the story end there. You felt you didn't need to understand it all, and he didn't deserve to relive it all over again.

So you held him.

You held him until the spring sun sprung up after winter's thick clouds. You took care of him, with him, until the sun's rays helped kindle the little fire in his heart. You encouraged him until your little carpenter returned.

You supported him as he stood slowly on his own too feet again. As he washed away his facepaint of yore, as he peeled back his deathly cloak of shame, leaving himself open and vulnerable. You encouraged him, gave him his space when needed, and moved and breathed, slowly reclaiming your own sanity, your own normalcy.

Your home began to smell like wood, pollen began to flood the late winter air. You supported him until the day he saw the first flower of spring, a lonely daisy poking up from melting snow, and smiled-- truly smiled. He cracked a soft joke, forlorn and filled of admiration, "Un-bud-lievable..."

As daisies always were his favorite flower.

Then, on, things began to weave together. The sun had turned a cheek and showed his face again. And though you knew he felt undeserving of it, you were so proud, so proud he lived yet another day with you. So proud of the way he bounced again, the way color filled his cold winter cheeks.

The sounds of sneezing and tissue blowing filled your lonely little cabin, despite his misery, it brought you boundless joy. And God, you were ever so proud, and ever so overjoyed, by the string of flower-related jokes. By mid-spring, your pride mellowed out into a new feeling.

A yearning no longer satisfied by long hugs. Byt tart kisses, or soft cuddles.

Soon, most of your mid spring evenings were filled with passion and almost frantic, love-making.

The kind that was crazed, like love birds on their honeymoons, burning with a mutual desire, and an overwhelming acceptance. A connection, a fire that complemented your compatability, your natural, almost primal, sexual synergy. The desires of your nights were long, chaotic, arranging in an array of vibrant stars and vivid colors. Vivid new ways to explore eachother, vivid ways to love and feel. From the teary eyed, sobbing, sweet and gratefully adventures, to the wild, crazed, barbaric takeovers, he felt whole. He came out healed from each one. Gaining more understanding. No. More acceptance of himself, despite the intensity of his sins.

And by the time the stormy, rainy April came around, Joker could finally say, with full confidence that he was truly himself again.

All thanks to you, guiding him in the way of intimate, unconditional love. Love that was loyal, love that was all his, love that rewarded, love that took yet never destroyed, love that changed yet never rejected, love that was soft and quiet. Love that was gentle and accepting.

Love of an easy yolk.

So here he confident lays beneath you, warming up your normally frosty body, after a thunderstorm that's aftermath clicked on the low, tidy hum of your home's generator. Laying uncomfortably beneath stringed sheets, yet too lazy to get up, knowing how his back will be accosted. But loving every second, of your lovely, purring body, that was devoted only to him.

How lucky was he, to be saved by you. To feel your feather-falling mercy and selfless support, even when you fail to understand him, you over tender unconditional care. Care of which, you claim, he first gave you endlessly. Something he will forever fail to see. So he continues to drown you in the same gentle, ever-budding, open ears and providing arms.

Warming you with his natural summer sunshine, the way you, his tender spring moonlight, loved.

Humming, joking, professing to you, everlasting.

Holding the key to your very essence, and supplementing the cry of your body.

His dearest, his love, his savior.

He swallows thickly, staring at the ceiling, feeling blood begin to rush to his downstairs.

Ah, who was he kidding? He was no poet, simply a horny, obsessive clown with a knack for carpentry work.

And damn.

His face flushes, his hips shift.

Your soft body was wonderland all over.

So, as any predictable fool would, Joker stutters out of his sweet cleft lips, "My d-dear... Make love with m-me yet again."

And you're ready in seconds.

[inconsistentartistuwu]

“Come Violeta! It’s your time to shine!”

MY GIRL DESERVED BETTER!