#so ermmmmm

[mango-mya]

My ass is NOT getting that grade up in time

[strawberrynova]

starting fantasy high because. well. got nothing better to do until i get a job

[paracosmicka]

finally settled on the fankid designs that i like lol

playing around with their powers tho idk about that

[qingwaaa]

They B L E N D

So melodramatic

[rystiel]

put that thing DOWN before you scar your eyes forever, stanford

[temeyes]

king of,,, uh,,, erm,,, hehe

[spellssher]

[2leggedshark]

You haven't let go yet ?

[cloudcake-macoroni]

💥💥💥

[fuzzbuns]

☎️

[phthalosblues]

If no one got me I know ballpoint pen and zebra highlighters got me amen 🙏 🙏🙏

[eyenaku]

what I’ve been working onnnn

[sout999]

boosting my top surgery fundraiser with another incomprehensible image

🌈gofund.me/958124b6🌈

have a good weekend when you do! sharing is appreciated! and thank you to everyone who has donated so far *bleats gently*

[5hark-byt3]

He’s my favorite..ever

Buncha doodles down here

[kissygigi]

Erm really short 🤕 — reader referred to as "you"

You’re pretty sure you saw a child roaming around the plex while you were making your way back to Bonnie Bowl in a bit of a sprint, but at the moment you felt like you not getting caught was more important than helping the kid out. You just wished him luck internally — you both were probably in the same boat.

Luckily, the staff bots didn’t pay much mind to you as you rushed to the 'STAFF ONLY' room at the end of the bowling alleys in the corner.

Finding parts in the back rooms of the plex was surprisingly easy. The technicians didn’t seem to know what it meant to pick up after themselves but you were actually thankful for that right now as you returned to your first and hopefully last project: Fixing up Bonnie who you had somehow found in the low levels of the plex which you had 'accidentally' stumbled on.

You were by no means a mechanic, and if there were any mechanics in your family you sure as hell didn’t pick anything up from them. However, by using your phone and the wifi of the plex you managed to search up tutorials that surely wouldn’t bite you back in the ass later.

You tried looking around for any notes left by the technicians as well, but you couldn’t find much unfortunately.

Still, you worked what you had and after some long grueling hours (how was it not 6AM yet??) you managed to at least get Bonnie to communicating condition. It felt like hell had been lifted off your shoulders as his eyes flickered to life and his body twitched.

"What happened?" Were the first words to leave him as he looked at his hands and then around the area. The soft whirring of his system filled the void of silence as you nervously stared at him wordlessly.

Soon enough his vision focused on you and you tensed for a few seconds. "Hi.." you murmured, waving stiffly. Bonnie tried his best to scan you, but he struggled to do so as the ray flickered with instability. "Who.. are you? Why are you here? It’s not safe.."

His tone was nothing but worried. Worried for your safety even though he was the one that looked two seconds from falling apart.

"I’m [Name]…" you trail off, not really putting much effort into your introduction. "Look, I’m just here waiting for 6AM to come and the plex doors open so I can go." A sigh leaves your lips and you hold your elbow with your opposite hand. "What were you doing down there?" You asked the bunny animatronic, tilting your head.

Bonnie tilted his head, the same as you, as best as he could. "Down where?" He asked, and before you knew it he was glitching out again. You panicked as you tried to figure out what was wrong, inspecting all the wiring.

"What’s wrong?! What’s going on?!" You exclaimed, hands practically flailing about. The glitched noises from his voice box were all you got as he began to shut down. You groaned.

This was going to take forever.

[aria-greenhoodie]

You asked and ye shall receive. Aria,why do you use birds to symbolize Abigale's inner turmoil?. Besides the obvious surname thing. Also you apparently have more thoughts on the Muse art? 👀,explain?.

So obviously yeah, “Blackwing” is such a bird surname. BUT THATS ONLY THE SURFACE!

Birds are so often used as symbols of freedom, creatures untethered by laws of the land due to their ability to fly. In the same way, I imagine Abigale as being similar; free, not having to abide by the laws of her land as much as others did. In order to explain I think I have to dive into my version of Abigale’s backstory a bit…

(Warning: I’m going off what I know about 1800-1900s American Society. I’m no historian, but I’ve tried to keep things as believable as possible. I will say I’m pretty confident in that believability thanks to my feminist history class I been taking this semester.)

Born in the early 1880s, the Blackwing family was wealthy, yet fairly unknown. Calling it a “family” before Abigale’s birth would be a stretch in many’s opinion, being made up of just Mr. Atticus Blackwing and Mrs. Chastity Blackwing. Chastity tragically passed in childbirth, leaving Atticus to raise Abigale all on his own. He became fiercely protective and supportive of the young Abigale, a tiny spitting image of his late wife.

Abigale was always an insatiably curious child. At first, Atticus tried to teach her how to be a lady, to be domestic, to cook and clean and dote on her future husband, but quickly realized he was woefully unequipped for teaching a subject he knew nothing about. What’s more: Abigale HATED her womanly lessons. Instead, Atticus decided to let her learn something she actually was interested in; inventing.

Abigale loved to tinker, to create. The mechanical was a fascination of hers from the moment she saw it. Atticus as an architect had some mechanical knowledge, but not to the level Abigale’s insatiable desire to learn needed. But what engineering school would allow a woman in? At this point in the late 1800s, women were nearly always snubbed in inventing spaces, most universities not even offering engineering degrees for female students.

And so, Abigale’s “twin brother” Abraham Blackwing was created. A pseudonym for Abigale, under which she would don Atticus’s old clothes from his boyhood and attend a prestigious engineering school. Her father even falsified documents like Abraham’s birth certificate to make him appear like a legitimate person. It was risky, as crossdressing was a punishable offense by law back then, but Abigale was willing to take that risk if it meant she could learn.

Between her rich father supporting her every decision and passion, and her alter-ego, Abraham, to fall back on, Abigale had a lot of freedom growing up. When her father died of an illness just before she graduated, he left “Abraham” everything, which of course meant that Abigale could “live with her brother” and hold a bank account under his name. She was truly given every opportunity for freedom, more than any woman of her time.

And then, Bill Cipher enters her life.

She’s plagued by the triangular demon ip every night in her dreams, but she refuses to succumb to the shape’s demands. As tempting as building a machine like an inter-dimensional portal was, she knew better than to trust a man who wouldn’t explain his motives. When Abigale asked why Bill wanted this portal built, he couldn’t give her a straight answer, and that was enough proof to know he was no good.

After weeks of restless nights and aggravation, Abigale finds a peculiar ad in the paper, written by a certain Thurburt Mudget Waxstaff III…

On some level, she has to thank Bill for entering her life as much as she has to curse him for it. If he had never decided to torment her specifically, she never would have met the rest of the Anti-Cipher Society. Abigale THRIVED in the society, delighted in inventing new ways to ward off Cipher, collaborating with her dear Jessamine to create specialized weaponry, learning self defense from Horace, gossiping with O’Pimm, spending night after night explaining the mechanics of how her inventions worked to Thurburt so he could whip up a stellar sales pitch… she had never felt more alive! She was flying high, much like a bird on the wind.

And then the conference happened.

Thurburt was institutionalized, right then and there. Abigale watched the asylum workers from backstage with mounting horror. Worst case scenario for Thurburt, he’d be locked in a cell or sent out west at some work camp, but for Abigale? If the asylum workers got ahold of her, she knew they’d think her hysterical. Treatments for “insane” men were often much kinder than treatments for women in those times. Deeming Thurburt insane would send him to a locked cell, but he would at least be allowed to remain himself. Abigale had heard of women like her, eccentric unmarried women, “frivolous women” as they were often called, being scooped up by doctors and spat back onto the street with their entire personalities wiped. A hammer and a well placed nail up the inside of one’s nose could do heinous things. Abigale would sooner die then let them take what made her HER away.

So she ran. She tried to take Jessamine with her, but she refused to leave Thurburt. For six days Abigale hid in the society’s underground bunker, terrified of venturing outside, not knowing what happened to her companions besides Thurburt. She only ventured out on the seventh day because she had run out of food.

She couldn’t go back to her house, when she tried to scope it out, she saw the asylum workers already knocking at her door. She couldn’t stay in the bunker, it was only a matter of time before it was found. She was desperate for a way out, to keep herself free.

And here comes Mr. Northwest.

See, the thing about birds is that while they make excellent symbols of freedom, they also make excellent symbols of being trapped. Birds can be put into cages, forced to sing or speak for meager treats, and lets not forget that at that time most birdcages were anything but spacious and comfortable. Most captive birds of the time were expected to die quickly, only purchased in order to sing prettily for a short while before their tiny little hearts stopped beating. Birds are as much a symbol of freedom as they are of captivity, of being trapped, of the LOSS of freedom.

Abigale never wanted to be a wife, but what choice did she have? Mr. Northwest offered her a way out if she married him. Her choice was thus: escape the state with Mr. Northwest as her husband, or stay in town and eventually be found and promptly lobotomized, erased of any trace of her real personality.

She chose the former.

Better to live in a gilded cage, twittering for scraps, then to be gutted and stuffed on som taxidermist’s wall…

Right?

As for the muse stuff most of my trout process I already told you in the notes of the original piece lol