experimentalOatmeal

A photograph of the planet Pluto.



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    in 2069 AD, the region once known as the United States of America is a world of complex lore and political intrigue that our heroine doesn't really care about because she's too busy trying to find estrogen in the post-apocalyptic Midwest.

    If you like the story, follow https://www.tumblr.com/manorpunk for Q&As, lore drops, errata, and more!

    Language:
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    21 Jan 2026

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    The picturesque village of Buell, Maine is one of the last in the United States to continue the tradition of the “harvest” or “prosperity” lottery. Its residents insist the lottery makes them stronger, even as condemnation from outsiders grows.

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    12 Jan 2026

  3. Public Bookmark *

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    "No doubt thou didst melt the seal open on the steam vents to read the business of thy betters, planned how thou wouldst ingratiate thyself with the Archduke— oh yes, we know thy tricks…”
    Not the steam vents, thinks Csevet. It would wet the paper. The hot pipes, yes— but not the vents. He would only use a steam vent if he wanted to bleed the ink onto the external sheet and claim inclement weather, and that almost never can be gotten away with inside the court.
    Captain Orthema is saying Lord Chavar, leave Mer Aisava, but Csevet knows Chavar will not move for love or money now, not until he has said his piece.
    --
    Two attempts on the throne; and Csevet Aisava, in the shadows.

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    10 Mar 2025

  4. Public Bookmark 89

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    Pyrrha has too much to worry about with her shitty apartment, her shitty job, and her supposed partner who's never even home, to care about John Gaius anymore. She's done owing him, and being owned by him; as soon as Gideon finishes this job they're both done and she'll be free forever.

    And then John drops his daughter off on her doorstep.

    -

    UNKNOWN NUMBER (2:17 p.m.): just found out I'm a DAD! A and M not having it. Can I drop her off at yours for a bit?
    Pyrrha (2:19 p.m.): what the fuck
    Pyrrha (2:52 p.m.): No.
    Pyrrha (3:07 p.m.): john we have so many GUNS

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    13 Jan 2025

  5. Public Bookmark 26

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    “You used to show up all the time,” the woman said. Her voice was rough. Strained. Quiet, but in a way that made the hairs on the back of Emmett’s neck stand on end. “Making a scene. Talking about how everything was wrong. How the world was broken.”

    She staggered forward and clutched at the shoulders of his jumpsuit with both hands, pinning him against the wall. Her breath was hot on his face and reeked of alcohol. And suddenly, as he stared into her narrowed eyes and felt a thirty-year-old memory click ponderously into place, Emmett recognized her.

    “Fix it,” snarled Lorraine.

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    11 Jan 2025