#death note dolly au

[miss-misamisa-amane]

Death Note Raggedy Ann and Andy AU. L is a ragdoll, Misa and Kiyomi are fashion dolls, Light is a porcelain doll, Mikami is a wax doll, Near is a jack in the box, Mello and Matt are action figures............

pls send asks about this i want more of this brainrot

[honestsycrets]

querido i: a reward of 2099 | outlaw!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ pairing | outlaw!miguel o'hara x reader

❛ type | doubleshot; chapter is safe for work.

❛ summary | it's been a long time since you've been with miguel o'hara. when your daughter gabriella finds his wanted poster, life starts to unravel.

❛ tags | mention of murder and minor character death, hidden pregnancy, western au, spanish not translated, outlaw!miguel, baby-mama!reader, slight cursing, angst, threats.

❛ sy's notes | here's to listening to the civil wars' devil backbone one too many times. i needed a break from filling most requests, so i only incorporated one very lightly in this piece.

“Mamá, 2099 is a strange amount for a reward, isn’t it?”

Your daughter was a mischievous girl just like her father. She tore down the poster that was tacked up on the homely post office’s bulletin board as you gathered the weekly post. Coming into town was always a bit of a laborious task. With goods to gather and a little girl to socialize, you made it into town once every week.

"Sure is," Jackson the postman said.

“Thank you,” you plucked mail from the man’s dark hands. “I’ll see you next week.”

He wore a warm, kind smile. Working in the post office, he always seemed to be well-versed in what was going on in everyone’s life. His coal-black eyes shone warmly at you.

“Take care now, there’s wild men out there. What with Peter gone and all, you sure you girls will be okay out there? Rio’d sure put up Gabi and you at the hostel.”

Gabi scrunched up her face tight like a screw being twisted into a board.

“That’s real sweet of you to worry but I’m sure we’ll be fine. We've been out there nine years now. I’ll see you next week, sí? ” You tucked your post into a basket that dangled on your elbow, pulling long and heavy skirts to avoid trampling them with your boots as you opened the door.

“See ya then!”

Gabriella stepped out first, pulling on your lace sleeves as a cue for her delayed answer. She wouldn’t butt into a conversation, but she always seemed to hold her questions for a better time. You sighed, looking at the pale wooden buildings. Saloon, feed store, bank, and the occasional hostel. Over the last decade, the town seemed to flourish, bringing all manner of people to your once tiny Spanish town.

“I suppose they didn’t wanna give the extra coin out, Gabi.”

She looked back to the paper in her hands.

“Wanted dead or alive. Notorious badman Miguel O’Hara, 38, native of Nueva… why that’s here, mama!”

Your blood chilled. Congealed even. The sun nearly blinded you, even with the hat that kept the hot sun off of your head. You stepped off the doorway and onto the dusty ground, spinning on your heel to face your little girl with your dark blue fan in your hands, waving the heat of the day off your flushed skin.

“Wanted for--”

You swiped the paper from her fingers.

“That’s about enough of that. We best get on our way, we got goods to buy, the undertaker to see, and a new dress to fit for your papá’s funeral.”

“I was just reading it. In case we see him?”

“We won’t. It’s been a time since he’s shown himself around these parts. You have no business looking at-- that kinda man. He’s a troublemaker. Now get in the cart, let’s not dolly around.”

You would know.

“O—okay, mamá.”

“I’m sorry, Gabi, I don't mean to yell. You’re all I got, preciosa,” you wedged the paper into a new bible, right next to your wooden rosary, and flung it into the basket.

"I know."

You started ahead of her, fussing with your white veil, sparing no expense to the many questions that she had that day. You had just as many questions as she did.

You just couldn’t articulate them to a grieving little girl.

Do you think it's a boy or girl? the seamstress asks a woman in her shop. She fashions all sorts of fashions from birth to death. Her store is stuffed to the brim with frilly and lacy baptismal dresses. Your gaze fell on her belly, tracing the curve.

"Una niña," she says. Her voice triggers something old, some ancient memory you've suppressed. His voice in your ear, a soft kiss on your head. You're sitting there, next to the little girl that he always wanted, haunted by the flood of memories that comes with looking at another woman's pregnant belly.

"You're not like the others. Aren't men supposed to want sons?" you teased him. Miguel snorted, his arm underneath your neck as he gazed up at a sky of glittering stars. The air was lightly warm, a light wind fluttering through the tall grass. Post-relation bliss was warm on his skin, peaceful and quiet.

"For what? Men are jealous of sons," he muttered, shifting his head to kiss the top of your head. "Little girls are... the light in their lives. I'm going to call mine Gabriella. You'd like that, wouldn't you?"

"That's a real pretty name."

"Sure is. ¿por qué?"

You didn't tell him why. That you hid a secret underneath the layers of your dress. A secret that you knew Miguel would have more than an issue with if he knew.

"Mamá?" Gabi shakes your arm, "Mamá we're next."

Your mind likes to pull mean tricks on you.

Wanted for double murder.

Miguel O’Hara was always somewhere between a hangman’s knot and three mouths to feed. For you, the latter. You were under no illusion of the sort of man Miguel was.

Every look at your daughter’s soft, peaceful face at night reminded you of him. You worried that the more she looked at posters of Miguel, peered into an artist’s rendition of Miguel’s slight, sultry eyes, lush lips, and strong jaw-- she might be able to locate the similarities when she looked at herself. That was why you had to take the flyer from her. The artist sure had a fine hand at drawing him, the man who danced in your dreams by a warm fire and stayed up late counting the stars. He’s gotten thicker, you thought. You sat on the rocking chair as she slept peacefully, rocking back and forth on the chair.

A violent knocking at the front door swept you free from your thoughts. You snatched up the silver lantern, yanked a fine ivory rebozo over your shoulders, and rushed down the stairs. The booming knocking became louder, more urgent. The movement was mechanical, with no husband to answer the door for you, you checked the window first. The man who stood there was not a man you’d want to see. Not now, not back then. He had a wicked face that sat beneath a wide-brimmed hat that obscured the balding spot on top of his head.

God, not him. He was obsessed.

“Buenas noches, Doña O’Hara,” he peeped into the window.

“Bendito, don’t call me that,” you rushed out, the heavy wooden door slamming to a close behind you. “I’ve told you already, he is not here.”

“And I don’t believe you. First, your man-loving husband dies. Next, sightings of Miguel a town over. ¿Qué piensas? Hm? What comes after that?”

“My husband was trampled, Aaron. By a bull. He was a hard-working man who worked with violent cattle. These accidents happen. Why don’t you ask the undertaker?”

He wouldn’t. Although you don’t think Aaron is a complete idiot, he surely has his own motivations for which leads to follow and which leads to ignore. Your husband’s death was one of them.

“I’ll tell you what comes next. You come next. It’s only logical that he would come back to you. You have his daughter and all. Or… does he not know about that? I seem to recall him running out of here like a bat outta hell.”

“You’ve checked my property three times. Barn, basement, home. It’s been nine years, Aaron. Gloria a Dios, he’s probably remarried and forgotten me by now.”

“Not according to my reports.”

You hate the twinge of delight that comes from that admission. Your cheeks warm with blood, highlighting the rouge that sits across your cheeks. He chuckles caustically at how easily it shuts you up. Aaron takes a step forward, his deep leather boots creaking along the aged floorboards.

“What’d you want me to do with that information?”

“If he comes to see you, and I know he will,” he reached out for your chin. Your hand connects with his, shoving him back. “Tell me. You know, it’s a crime to kill another man without good cause.”

“You wanna catch Miguel for your own reasons, Aaron. Don’t bring none of that holier-than-thou bullshit to my footstep.”

“She can curse,” he laughs again. “Here I thought you were a good Christian woman.”

“Don’t try me,” He tries to corral you against the door. You flip your skirts up, his eyes following the motion. You seize the handgun strapped to your thigh, threatening to pull it on him. Aaron slides back, holding his calloused hands up. "Get off my property."

“I’m just saying. If you see him, you know where to find me. Who knows, you and I could work a lil something out.”

Even if you knew where he was, you would be hard-pressed to turn him into Aaron Delgado. You knew Miguel O’Hara would kill him. So, really, it was for his good. You watched him beat down the squeaky steps and mount his horse, fading into the distance of dark, twinkly stars. You probably shouldn’t be praying that robbers got ahold of him.

But only Diosito could judge you for that.

You dipped down to pick the lantern up, stepping off the steps to ensure that he was not just off your property, but properly gone. Then, seeing him set off toward town, you gazed up at the deep night sky. It was littered with an abundance of stars, massive and twinkling brilliantly. Miguel’s favorite constellations shone brightly in the sky. The Anglo called it-- Orion’s belt. Around here, it was named for the hunter: the deer, the pronghorn, and the sheep. You count each of the stars on your way back indoors to sleep in your empty bed.

You prayed Aaron’s hunt would be fruitless that night.

With your husband's untimely death came several complex decisions. Namely, what to do with his cattle hands and the animals under your care. You were fortunate enough to have support from the community in caring for the cattle, but you knew human affection did not last forever. You could sell his property at a scam of a price as a woman or you could keep it and work bitterly on the farm.

Or, as Aaron suggested today in the cover of concern, you could remarry yet again. It was nearly the only good option. Working wasn’t sustainable when you had a little girl to raise and a whole host of children to teach, as you always had. It would be nearly impossible to find someone like your dearly departed husband who knew your situation and couldn’t care less about it.

It’s good for a lil girl to have a father, he says. You know that-- but Aaron should be no one’s father. Not Gabriella’s. Miguel would’ve never approved. Neither did you.

You loosened beads of sweat from your hair as you returned inside, the ends of your skirt matted with dust. Gabriella would return home from school soon and you were fully intent on feeding her a slice of fresh peach pie.

You made your way into your home, your boots between your fingers. The smell of a smoky hearth piqued your attention. It didn’t arise from your great big wood stove that sat against the wall, ready to cook fresh tortillas, but the sort of hearth settled in the deep outdoors.

“Dios mío.”

Miguel sat there, plain as a field flower. His fingers tapped over the heavy wooden table, rolling in succession. He’s older than you remember-- jaw peppered with dark facial hair, his hair dark and wild, set away from his kind eyes that caught yours as quickly as you caught his. You dropped your boots at your feet, backing up once, twice.

“Don’t run, you won't get far,” his voice trilled, low and warm. Beside his sombrero on the table sat a thick rope and his gun, you don’t want to know which one he was planning to use today. His head twisted, a mused smile growing on his face. “You look so surprised, amor. You had to know I was coming.”

The nickname cut more than it used to. You had not been someone’s amor in a very long time. Married strictly by the weight of paper, you don’t exactly recall what the fleeting emotion of love felt like. Wisps of it licked a dead flame to life in your stomach.

“Miguel.”

“You look gorgeous,” Miguel hummed, turning his impossibly broad arms one over the other. You don’t remember him being this thick. He lurches onto his leather boots, taking a few practiced steps closer. Brilliant, you think, you’ve languished years thinking of this moment just to smell of sweat and cow shit. You suppose he’s smelled worse as an outlaw, a name that doesn’t quite fit the handsome man before you.

“You were always a bad liar.”

“Look, not smell.”

“My point stands,” you say.

Your normally practiced updo has gone frizzy, bits of hair escaping the clips that kept it flat against your head. Miguel’s eyes flickered over the strands, then down to your skin flush with blood and exhaustion.

“Mine too.”

You stared at him a moment longer before you found yourself laughing, just a light-- a small thing that you had failed to do over the past week. His death, and the subsequent funeral, was all too miserable. Now he was here and for a moment, just a brief thing, everything didn’t feel so earth-shatteringly dire.

He cracks a smile, drawing his hand to your flyaways, soothing it down against your head. You should be more angry at him-- settling you with a baby like he did and disappearing into the long grass with Widow and not a word more.

“I missed you,” you said quietly. His hand falls away from your head, drifting past his dark blue vest, and hooking at the fat metal belt buckle. “Pero… why are you here?”

“I heard Peter passed,” he said in a practiced tone. “I was a few towns over. Seeing how he’s taken good care of you all these years, I dropped in to say my dues to him. Came to see my girl too.”

The grief may not be readable in his eyes, but you know he’s practiced it in the same way you did for your Gabriella. Her only daddy was gone, deep in the cold earth. His words echoed in your ears, cutting through your grief bright and resonant. You wonder if he knew, but logically, you knew he couldn’t. Miguel always wanted to be a father.

“Who’d that be?”

“You,” Miguel turns your name over, making your name sound beautiful and light on his tongue. It’s sweet, like the peach pie cooling in your aged windows.

“After all these years?"

"Claro."

"You... shouldn't be here. You’re a wanted man,” you said. “Aaron is looking for you. You know that, right?”

“He's nothing to be concerned about.” Miguel shrugged off your suggestion. "I'm only wanted in these parts."

“Where else is there?” you said

“Out West. South. You take your pick,” Miguel lifted his hand, tracing your parched lower lip. “It don't matter to me. I seen all manner of places, like it here more than anywhere.”

"There's nothing here."

"Nothing but you."

You felt your stomach swoop, a delight filling it better than any meal you’d had. You parted your lips to say something else, to find a response that would fit-- to tell him the truth. But he left you then, came back when something fit better than the road. You wonder what fortune he must have made on the road that he’d come back. His hand caressed your cheek, rubbing it as if to soothe you. It didn’t.

“You think you can just go and come back like nothing happened? After what you did?”

The front door squeaked, dragging with a long hiss. Miguel peered over your shoulder as if it were instinctual, his hand snapping to the gun on his hip. You stopped him short of seizing his handgun. Gabriella bobbed in, closing the door tightly shut behind her. She wore a plain blue dress, fine ribbon braided in the updo she had on that day. She takes a few short steps forward before realizing who you were talking to.

“Mamá, I’m home!” she gasped. “That’s the man in the— in the flyer mamá--”

“Gabi go to your room.”

“I’m not--”

“Gabriella,” your voice went soft but stern. Nearly apologetic. You had been so hard on her lately. Miguel’s eyes dropped from Gabriella’s huge, doe-like eyes to her nose, then lips. His eyes sharpened, whipping back to look at you. “Por mí, okay? He won’t hurt me. Te prometo.”

She darted up the many steps to her room.

"Gabriella?" He stared at you uncomprehendingly. He quickly goes quiet, searching your eyes for something. You worry that he’s found the truth, your breath light as you walked over to your wooden stove, checking the flame and setting a pot of water that you brought from a nearby creek to bathe with. He follows you to the stove.

“My daughter is home. You should go,” you remarked, less of a command than a meek statement, floundering on your lips at the end. As delightful as it sounded, running off into some other territory, town, or world with Miguel-- it was unfeasible and irresponsible to be with a man whose name was stapled on the bulletin boards towns over.

“How old is she?”

"That's none of your business." Your outlaw hovers over you, absorbing the space, a bundle of heavy muscle and rage that plumes off his skin like the smell of sweat on your skin. It’s almost as if he can smell the regret seeping off your skin, despite knowing you couldn’t have done anything differently. No one told him and you could not reach him. Whatever the reason he stayed away, you were not the one he reached out to for updates.

“Tell me,” he growls, waves of anger causing his voice to shake. The tone is heartless, empty of the nights together, of slipping off with the old cattle hand at night and day, in the barn and the field. You’re stuck in the memory of your lovemaking with your vaquero, now your outlaw man. You missed him.

“Don’t do this. She could be listening.” You pad away from the stove to the window with the hope that he wouldn’t follow. He backs you up into the wall, his calloused hands so tight on his belt that you could draw lines of tension through his veins.

“You're not telling me because she’s mine,” he’s whispering, the words going through your chest, fizzling out into terrible pain. He reaches out, squeezing your hips to keep you put. Miguel leans into your space and buries you in his overwhelming scent.

“What do you want me to say?” you stare at his prominent muscles, the shift that is thrown open to expose his skin. He cups your jaw and throat with his large hand, forcing you to confront the truth. Your eyes blink closed, bits of tears dripping there. Miguel doesn’t have the patience for pity, or empathy, whichever the two you were looking for right then.

“I want you to tell me the truth. It's not hard.”

“Me telling you the truth changes a whole lot of nothing. You're putting her life at risk just being here. You're an outlaw,” you say, trying his rapidly evaporating patience. "You got a bounty on your head."

"It changes it all," he shoves you back into the window, a choked cry slipping from your throat. He doesn’t mean to hurt you, he meant to have the truth. Distantly, you were aware of Gabriella’s feet beating down the steps. You’re relatively certain she’d never gone all the way up to her room. In this creaky house you would have heard her door shut, the floorboards bounce. In either case, there’s no point running away from what you both know to be true.

“Sí, she’s your daughter,” you mustered the words in a bid to get it over with. Miguel always had to get his way. “Now what?”

Miguel flicked a look over his shoulder, marked by the heavy drag of his weighted firearm skidding across the wooden table. A life on the run will do that. Gabriella’s tiny hands slipped around his handgun.

“That ain't true!”

“Gabriella,” you cut her short. “Gabi, bebe, put that down.”

Miguel took a step back, pulling his head back slightly as you shifted in front of him. Her tiny head shook, over and over, tears pricking her bright brown eyes. You fooled yourself into thinking that she wouldn’t listen-- because your Gabi was a good girl. A wonderful good girl who liked nothing more but running in the field with the boys and brightly colored ribbons laced into her braids. She was also a mischievous girl who had been trying really, really hard to be good for you this week. Children had their limits.

“My papá is dead,” she said, her fingers trembling about the thing. Miguel’s head tilted in response, expecting you to take care of it. “His name was Peter and-- he liked sunsets and fluffy chocolate calves and--”

“Badly made blankets,” Miguel said lowly. Gabi lowered the gun, slowly, just an inch or two. “Shorn fabrics, uneven stitching, ugly colors.”

“He liked to make you smile-- be helpful,” he added. You snapped to look at Miguel as he rose his hand to his hips, gazing at the floor and rocking. He waits another moment, noting how Gabriella’s head nodded, rubbing away the tears that dripped off the corner of her eyes with her shoulder. She set the gun down on the table.

“You knew my papá?” she turns her arms one over another. “How?”

“He was my friend.”

“Mamá?” she looked toward you, seeking an answer from someone who wasn’t a face on a wanted paper with a reward of 2099 dollars.

“Peter was your papá but-- Miguel is your padre, mija,” you breathed hard, exhausted from years of suppression. She looks at you, not used to this level of betrayal. Her eyes are distant, somewhere in her tiny memories. She whips around and runs out the back door. Miguel turns his eye out the window, her tiny body disappearing into the deep green fields. The sun blinds your eyes as you look out to the fields full of cattle. He reaches for his rope and gun, settling them in their respective places.

“¡Déjala! She needs time alone.”

He heads out the backdoor. He never did listen well.

[nobody-nexus]

❌ANALOG AU MASTERPOST!❌

-Analog AU is a Digital Circus AU where it takes place in the year of 2003 and a woman named Paloma Shutnik finds a bunch of notebooks and VHS tapes within a local thrift shop that was in her city, so she decided to buy them for her collection. However, little did she know that finding these would result in her learning more about the world then what she was prepared for-

CW: This AU will content blood, gore, death, torture, cosmic horror, body horror, scopophobia, and other similar elements. Be warned!

(Under the keep reading are the designs, and general information!)

Entities: The names of the creatures that are beyond normal human standards. From tendrils controlling old machinery, to wraith chess pieces, these creatures aren't the normal for life on Earth. Within Abel's notes, there's a total of four different types of Entities to encounter:

Of course, the entities are always taller then the average human. The normal height is about 2.1 to 2.4 meters (7 to 8 feet tall), and the tallest ever recorded was 9.7 meters (32 feet) from end to end

================================================

(The blank for the reference sheet)

The text font I use for this AU is the Chiller Font ^^

And, of course, some answers to potential questions:

(The Influencer originally belongs to @ask-the-rag-dolly)

I hope you enjoy this AU- cause oh god it took me SO LONG to remaster this. This is one of the AUs I wanna see people enjoy the most cause I have a special place in my heart for this kinda stuff. If you've made it to the end, I hope you have a fantastic day ^^

[euphoricfilter]

“Baby, we need to get dressed so Jinnie can watch you while I go out”

Yoongi

Ddlg/Yandere/mafia

how time has changed you:

pairing: yandere! yoongi x f. reader

genre: fluff || established relationship au || mafia au || yandere au || non-idol au

summary: yoongi liked to spoil you, and had to deal with the consequences when you didn't get your way

tags/ warnings: possibly fluffy, mentions of death and blood, manipulative relationship? (it's toxic, don't settle for a man like this ~ this is only fiction), implied kidnapping, stockholm syndrome and attachment issues, dd/lg themes, temper tantrums and crocodile tears, religious slander?

notes: drabble requests are closed <3

drabble masterlist || main masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

Yoongi had always been very particular about who you stayed with when he had a job to do. Because as much as he hated leaving you alone for days on end, he really had no choice when his job is as unconventional as his is. 

You didn’t have friends, Yoongi had made sure of that. And with no contact with the outside world if it wasn’t on his own terms, really you were only left with the people he chose. 

Only a select few that he let lay their eyes on you, the few he truly trusted, who held delicate loyalty in their blood-stained hands, with clear intentions because Yoongi was far from stupid, and he knew anyone that worked under him could turn their back on him at any given moment. And he refused to let you get between him and their wretched betrayal. 

He'd built an empire from nothing but the ground he now rules over, name like poison to the tongue, a sin to ever utter his existence into the world if you wanted to keep your head.

Because Yoongi was a brutal man, his brothers his only family, blood-relations be damned– he killed them all, bathed his home in blood and started a new family on his own terms. Ones he knew held the same morals as him, didn’t question his sanity or right to rule. 

He’d worked hard to get you where you were today, so he made sure your existence was wiped from the world; a ghost that roamed the halls, existence forgotten like the many others that vanish under his name. 

Only you never had to walk through the gates of hell like the rest of them. Rather, you lived in paradise, everything you ever needed at your beck and call. Yoongi your divine servant that kisses the ground you walk on, worshiping your very existence. 

Because if there were ever to be a god, then you were his goddess. No other deity ever matching your beauty, ever so perfect, and delicate and so very much his to defile and cherish and kiss; devotion fully yours to clasp in soft hands. 

Pretty trinkets and pretty dresses, his home decorated like a life size doll house doused in pinks and whites. Soft blankets and soft rugs, soft toys and soft desires. The prettiest little house for his pretty little dolly. 

Long gone were the days you shouted profanities at him, arms and legs kicking for him to leave you alone, where you’d lock the door to your bedroom and he’d spend hours begging you to come out. Because he hated how your cheeks were blotchy, coated in tears sure to dry your skin. Eyes red and wrists sore from trying to hit your captor. 

Life was simpler now when the two of you were alone. 

“Baby, we need to get dressed so Jinnie can watch you while I go out” 

You bring your knees up to your chest, pitiful little pout tugging at your bottom lip, “No” 

He raises an eyebrow, “No?” 

You boyfriend kneels before you, hands resting on your knees. 

“You just got home, you can’t leave again” 

“I won’t be gone as long this time, I promise” he pleads, hand brushing your hair from your face. 

“Yoongi” you whine, feet kicking against his chest in retaliation. 

He holds your ankles, gentle smile tugging onto his lips, “My good girl, yeah?” he croons, and you nod, “Come on, I’ll help you get dressed” he tugs you closer to him, you back falling against the floor. 

He looms over you, hands planted firmly beside your head, arms flexing under his weight as he leans down to press a kiss to your pouty lips. 

It isnt until he’s tying your shoe laces by the door do you decide to tug once more at his heart strings. A final attempt to get your own way.

“Hey, hey– why’re you crying” he coos, thumb rubbing over your wet cheek, a distressed sob wracking through your body. 

“Don’t wanna go” you tug his hands away from you, “You’re so mean, leaving me by myself” you cry. 

“You’ll have Jinnie, remember?” he soothes, “I’m sure he’ll cook something yummy, and then we can call on the phone tonight, how about that?” 

“No, no, no. no” you huff, hiccup hidden behind hands as you wipe your cheeks with the sleeve of your sweater, “Mean Yoongi, I hate you”

Yoongi wets his bottom lip, frantic as he tries to just hold you. 

“Tonight–” he starts, finally finding a gateway to pull you between his legs, your attempt at pushing him away morphing into the need to hold him close, “I’ll come back tonight, instead of tomorrow” he soothes, hand pulling your face further into his shoulder by the back of your head. Holding you tight enough that if you were to crumble he would be able to pick up the pieces. 

And as much as his brothers liked to point out how much he spoiled you, how you had him clutched in your delicate little hands. He’d much rather you hold onto him like he were the only man in the world as you cry pitiful little crocodile tears, him being the only one that could fix your hurts and soothe your pain. Because anything is better than you cursing his very existence or to wish him dead. 

💕 thank you for reading!! feedback is always encouraged

permanent taglist: @m1sss1mp @supernoonanyc

[marinerainbow]

The FNAF fan song 'Creepin' Towards the Door' gave me this idea.

Five Nights at Roger Rabbit's Toontown AU

(Please note; I know NOTHING about Fnaf, nor do I plan to go into the series. All I know is that it's got neat character design, something spooky happening, and they're all animatronics. So I apologize if I get lore wrong)

Summary

Set in the 80's, a huge, cartoon themed restaurant was opened, under the name Roger Rabbit's Toontown. By the towns mysterious judge, Mr. Doom no less. Nobody could fathom why a normal man of law would establish such a business, let alone a man like Doom who's attire alone looked like he was ready for a funeral any minute. Especially a funeral he was the cause of.

Nevertheless, Mr. Doom's new gig quickly became quite popular among children and families. From the colorful visuals, the cute and witty cast of oddly advanced animatronic characters. It even brought in more tourists for the town! Which of course, made Doom an even bigger presence in the community than before.

However, no one ever stopped to wonder; how are these robots so advanced for the time? Why did the cruel judge even think about going into the family friendly business? And how do the toony characters seem so... Life like?

No one cared to question it. Neither did Eddie Valient, the new and desperate security guard hired for the night watch. But he's going to see exactly what these animatronics get up to when the curtain draws close...

The Restaurant

Judge Doom is an old soul. Which is a nice way of saying that he's a stuffy, old-fashioned man. And the decor of the place shows his taste. Despite the more toony and child friendly theme, it is definitely a homage to the early 1900s. It even makes history fun! Children can find plenty of interactive attractions around the place that will tell them interesting facts, such as how the first animated cartoon was made in 1908.

The size of the place is also clearly meant to make sure that the 'town' part of the establishments title was not to be taken lightly. Large enough to be considered a mansion, with one huge stage in the center and circled by the countless tables (think Dolly Parton's restaurant Stampede, as seen below), not to mention all of the secret passage ways and vents that allow the cast and staff to either navigate the restaurant without disturbing the show, or quickly make their way to the audience to interact with them and make them a part of the stageplay! Which, each play is on par with your favorite Saturday morning cartoons; wacky, zany, and just a hint of adult humor for the parents.

Eddie and whoever else might be on night watch with him will have quite the hassle keeping track of all the animatronics, when they know the place inside and out...

The Cast

The Humans

Judge Doom: The owner of this fine establishment. A mysterious man with a dark aura. Rumors say that going into the family entertainment business is him trying to turn over a new leaf... Though others believe that the family fun is an attempt to hide something far more sinister...

Eddie Valient: a down on his luck man who just needs something after the untimely and mysterious death of his brother. He can't keep asking his girlfriend for help, he knows she has her own bills to pay- not to mention he already owes her so much. He needs this job, even if those animatronics are freaky...

The Good Guys

Roger Rabbit: The main protagonist and mascot of the restaurant. This cute little rabbit just adores his beautiful wife, loves all of his friends, and offers a helping hand to those in need! Even if those mischievous weasels are out and about... Though sometimes, even heros need someone to save them...

Jessica Rabbit: The wife and secondary protagonist of the restaurant. Although her design is meant to appeal to the more mature members of the audience, she is always right beside her honey bunny and ready to step in when the weasels go too far...

Baby Herman: Oddly, the only humanoid animatronic in the whole establishment- next to Jessica that is. His role on stage is a sort of 'oblivious side plot'; Roger is almost always, for some reason, taking care of the baby and has to keep him out of trouble. Though when everyone goes home, this baby proves just how much of a loud mouthed brat he can be... It's odd how a child character would have such a crass soul deep down, no?

Benny the Cab: Taking the role of Roger's side kick and vehicle, this cab is part of the reason why the restaurant is so huge; to make room for such a huge animatronic, especially one made for chase scenes! Despite being a car, he almost seems a bit human... Though the same could be said for all the other animatronics too.

The Bad Guys

Smartassguy Weasel: The big bad of the whole cast. As the leader of the giggling pack of weasels, he's the one behind most of the nefarious plots against Roger Rabbit's Toontown. Mean, egotistical, and a cutthroat attitude to boot. You don't want to get on his bad side, as Eddie will find out soon enough...

Greasy Weasel: Smarty's perverted right-hand man. With an oily personality, a swift hand, and eyes on Mrs. Rabbit herself, it's a wonder Doom allowed this character to be made for a children's establishment... They should see what he's like when the lights go out.

Wheezy Weasel: This weasel is believed to be the Judges way of teaching children to say no to cigarettes. Quiet, intimidating, and with his glowing red hued eyes, it's odd how Wheezy wasn't chosen as the main villain for the cast...

Psycho Weasel: This animatronic has seemed to take it upon himself to bring a whole new meaning to 'interactive storytelling' in the grimmest sense. Psycho will often pop up out of nowhere and scare unsuspecting patrons, and the few times he speaks is always something... Sinister... Why Doom would think a character this morbid would be fit for family-friendly entertainment is anybodies guess.

Stupid Weasel: The only villain animatronic who seems to fit in the toony theme of the establishment the best. A big dumb brute, who just follows orders. His childish antics shine a more light-hearted light on the rest of his gang, but also make him stick out like a sore thumb... It's almost like he's not where he's supposed to be...

Will the nightguard be able to survive all five nights in Toontown? What do you think?

[chesters-ocs]

the self indulgence never ends huh? pspsps @the-whispers-of-death youre the one who encouraged this. so. here u go xoxo

reader doesn't speak and doesn't have a name and is referred to as "the barista" by the narrator. reader uses they/them pronouns. pre-established relationship, coffee shop au. 3rd person pov

wc: 660

It has been a slow day. The cafe had been mostly empty today. Not surprising though, considering the owner of the place had cut down the opening hours.

The barista at the counter could only do so much to pass the time. At least it being a quiet day meant they don't have to talk much, just to their coworkers. It helped that the music was nice too, softly playing from the speakers.

After all the counters were wiped, they returned to the main counter, and began to put away the cups and plates that had been freshly washed and dried. A monotonous task, but somebody has to do it.

The delightful monotony, however, was disrupted by the entrance bell ringing, and they didn't even have to turn around to know who it was, as the man loudly announced himself.

"Heya, doll! How-" Butcher cut himself off as his partner glared at him, no doubt wanting him to quiet down.

"Ah... Sorry," The suited man chuckled in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck, as he approached the counter, "My bad. Got a little used to needin' to scream my damn lungs out all day." He explained, as he sat on the bar stool, leaning forward, resting his head on his propped up hands. They noted the eyebags, which were unfortunately present on his eyes. Must have been another night shift.

The barista just waved away the concern with a vague gesture, and turned to him expectantly, as he scanned trough the menu.

"One second... Jus' seein' if there's anythin' new you've been taught to cook up here." He explained, and after a brief moment of silence, spoke again, "Eh what the hell. Give me my usual, dollface."

Butcher is met with an unimpressed look from the barista.

"Are you seriously going to make me spell it out? You're a cruel one, you know that?"

The barista nods curtly, a smile playing on their lips.

"Fine, fine... A triple shot espresso, please. Iced... Largest cup you've got. Happy now?" He grumbled, looking at them with an annoyed expression.

He received another nod, this time accompanied with a small, amused smile, as they got to work, manning the coffee machines and loading up the ground beans.

They could feel Butcher's eyes on them, and out of the corner of their vision, could see him gazing at them lovingly, albeit tiredly. Even in his exhaustion, he wanted to keep admiring the one he loved.

As they presented him with the finished coffee, he couldn't help his small confession, as me muttered an "I love you," in the softest tone, reserved for them and them alone. Despite that, he was already reaching for his wallet to pay, and pulled out his card.

The barista punched in a few numbers on the tablet, and Butcher was allowed to pay, and they handed him the receipt.

Scanning his eyes over it, he couldn't help his laughter, "Ha! Ya gave me a discount for 'being cute'? You're a treasure, doll. An absolute treasure." He mused, eyes crinkling with his smile, gold tooth slipping into view.

With a low groan, he stood up, stretching out. His spine popped in a few places, and he stuffed the receipt in his wallet, which went right back into his pocket. Snatching up the coffee and taking a swig, he hummed in delight, already looking like he was less tired than before.

"Well... I gotta go. See you at my place, dolly?" He asked, reminding the barista of their planned date night, and they nodded.

"Good, good. See you then. Love ya!" He calls out, swinging open the door and stepping back into the streets.

If Butcher were to look over his shoulder, he'd see the barista waving at him, still standing behind the counter.

And he did. He saw them, and smiled to himself, taking another sip of his drink, as he marched down the busy streets, blending right back into the crowd.

[my-chemical-ratz]

When you get this, share 5 good things that happened to you in 2023, 5 songs that defined your year, 5 shows you discovered, and 5 friends you made. Then send this to 5 people to spread some happy memories ✨️🎉💛

good things: started t, came out to my mother, made friends, PASSED MY PSYCH CLASS, and tbh just vibed

5 songs: tbh idk specifically any songs but i listened to a fuck ton of dolly parton?

5 shows: oh god ive watched so many mediocre shows while painting. i did watch death note finally and liked that

5 friends: my irl friends!! finally i have people to hang out with that dont treat me like shit lmao. i love them all dearly

and one other thing

wormie and i created our au this year. best thing that happened overall :3

[phantom-of-the-ruckus]

Amyrose Kruber

Note: I wanted to draw Priscilla first, but I owed this redesign for quite a while and it was time to give poor Amy an update. Priscilla will be next (hopefully)

TW: for mentions of death, abuse, and murder

Full name: Amyrose Jeanette Kruber

Nicknames: Ms. Kruber, Amy, AJ Kruber (just by Jake)

Age: 40-50s, two years younger than Owen

Active Status: Deceased (cannon), Alive (Hello Sisterhood)

Date of Birth: November 27, of most likely 1945-1950

Time of death: Around season 2 of the show (when the puppets were alive)

Cause of death: Strangulation (Murdered by Mortimer and Riley; death placed as suicide)

Love interest: Owen Gubberson (Unintended rejection in Cannon), Jake Bowen (Cannon Divergent universe)

Family: Owen Gubberson (Husband in Hello Sister Universe and other AUs), Amelia Kruber (Mother †), Earl Kruber (Father †), Rosemary Kruber (Sister †), Rebecca Kruber (Niece), Hannah Jenkins (Niece), Sarabeth "Beth" Jenkins (Grand-Niece), Mathew Jenkins (Nephew-in-law †), Anthony Pierson (Grand-Nephew-in-law), Exliza Dollison (Adopted daughter/ Shared universe with @dolly-royal), Priscilla Gubberson (sister-in-law), Arthur Gubberson (father-in-law. Hello Sisterhood and other universes) the handeemen and Scout (adoptive step-children just in Hello Sisterhood)

Friends: HQ crew, Handeemen (just in hello sisterhood and others AUs), Owen Gubberson, Jake Bowen, Matilda Screecher, Rachel letterer, Joel, Priscilla Gubberson, Samuel Burlington, the Burlington family

Enemies: The handeemen (cannon divergent and technically in cannon), Rachel Breadstone (Not friends not enemies), Victor Pierson (cannon divergence)

Job: Ventriloquist at Burlington's Co and Entertainment, puppeteer, co-director of the Handeemen Studios (Hello Sisterhood)

Amy was born in Texas and moved to Nashville, Tennessee at the age of 3. She was the second daughter of Amelia and Earl Kruber, and the youngest sister of Rosemary Kruber. She had a rough life in Tennessee after her father started to drink and become abusive towards her and her family. Amy has a scar in her back after her father threw a glass bottle when she was 5 years of age. Eventually, Amelia reported her Earl for domestic Abuse and he was sent to rehab when Amy was 14 years old. However, Amelia remained married to Earl.

Around this time, Rosemary took her to see a ventriloquist in town for her birthday. Amy became fascinated and decided to pursue a career of becoming a ventriloquist. She eventually left home at the age of 18 to live with her cousins in San Diego, California (just two years after Earl returned, but the abuse did end) where she further her education in the arts, and became a puppeteer for children shows, and adult audiences. At the age of 28 she started to puppeteer for puppet shows, and became affiliated temporarily with the Jim Henson company to puppeteer for 10 years until she became affiliated with the Burlington entertainment company and had a show on her own in one of their entertainment places. This was her job for the rest of her life and career.

She met Owen Gubberson when he came into a bar she was hosting a show. She recognized him from the convention and Mortimer's Handeemen pilot. They talked a bit and became friends ever since after talking endlessly about puppets. Both eventually developed feelings for the other.

Amy helped Owen with his company and show through covering for puppeteers and give him some advice in the show business. However, she made clear that she had no intentions in joining the Handeemen Studios, but would gladly referrer to Owen for future investors and producers. They also had a couple of fights regarding Owen's micromanaging, but Amy didn't involve herself too much on his business

After the success of the first season, the studios had a small party (Mortimer was alive around this point). Amy took Owen for a dance, and they were having a good time. Eventually a slow song hit, and Amy decided to build some courage and tell Owen that she loved him. Owen being in shock because Amy liked him back but also having, so social skills at all stays quite unable to tell her "I love you too" which Amy takes as a rejection from his part. Owen did try to reach out to her the next day but she interrupted him and told him they were better off as friends as she jokes "It is better than just me hangin' like a doll, ya know"

She started to develop feelings for Jake Bowen (same with him) after the two started to become close, but she decided not to move forward as she still loved Owen. They never mentioned their feelings.

As the months began to pass, strange events involving the puppets occurred, and many problems with Rachel, Amy and Owen's relationship slowly went downhill. After the book was revealed. Amy had a small confrontation about Owen and what was going on. Owen desperately tried to tell her that Mortimer was alive and brought the others as well, and in vain tries to make Mortimer talk to Amy which she angrily says "Mortimer is just a puppet!" before leaving just as Mortimer mocks Owen about playing dead.

That same night, Amy starts to have regrets and sends Owen an apology via a phone message before she receives a call from Owen (which was actually Mortimer) about meeting in the studio to talk and help him with his office. Just as Amy enters she is captured by the puppets and is hanged at the main stage carrying a fake suicide note. She died as she saw Owen rushing to save her This is also at the same time Mortimer hints to Owen about a small surprise and Jake coming to the studio to pick some stuff but getting distracted by a scream. Owen rips the rope and embraces as he apologizes and laments about not saying he loved her too. Jake arrives and has a small fight with Owen asking about what happened. The police arrive and declared that Amy committed suicide.

During the press, Owen tries to talk with Rosemary about what happened as it was rumored Owen murdered Amy, but Rose cuts him off and tells him that she doesn't want to hear anything about him or "his stupid puppet company" as she blames him for Amy's death. This would lead to Rosemary sheltering her daughters (Rebecca and Hannah) and her grandchildren (Sarabeth and her cousins. Rose is Beth's grandmother) from the anything related to the Handeemen and puppets in general.

------

In Hello Sisterhood, the history is mostly the same except the puppets were brought much later due to Owen wanting to save his show from low ratings. The spell turned them Human, but this was after season 1. During the party where Amy confessed to Owen, he had the courage to tell her he loves her back and the two become a couple. After the whole good puppets brought to life, Amy and Owen decide to work together and merge their job thus becoming the directors of what is the studio in Hello Sisterhood.

The lore in the fanfic is different due to being written before the midnight show.

-----

Some small trivia about Amy

She was my first OC created and was intended to be Owen's love interested and a parallel to the main puppet duo in a former idea (this was in 2021) about the backstory of the puppets.

Sarabeth was always intended to be her grandniece, but the whole taboo with Owen's company was not implemented yet.

An inside joke I have with Amber is that Amy is like the Kenny of my universe, she constantly gets killed.

In other AUs she features in, she's Owen's wife, and Hello Sisterhood is probably the only AU where she's Owen's girlfriend but soon to be his wife.

In the academy AU part 1, Amy will take a role inspired by Host as she will help Scout around as "The Mourning Widow" but is a separate AU.

There is a chance she might be mentioned in "Once Upon a Midnight Dreary" as Dr. Gubberson's dead dove/former love in the Poe Fashion

Amy has a bast collection of sweaters she likes to wear. During summer, she has squared pattern blouses she hears. She likes to cover her scars, but she just wears those clothes because she just loves them.

Her favorite films are Dirty Dancing and Grease.

Favorite Musical is a Day in the Park with George and into the woods.

Also, she got Owen to dress as a flower to her bumblebee costume. Everyone said the flower looked rather withered due to Owen's frown

[hostess-of-horror]

Welp, here's another AU for the fat bastard (affectionate)...

And if it takes a paranormal journey through his past, present, and future to make him realize how much of an egotistical tool he has been, then so be it.

@minnesotamedic186 @salamifuposey @darkmedolie @zao-starstruck @randomrabbidramblings

A Christmas Carol AU

Character List:

Phantom ( as "Ebenezer Scrooge")

Dolly Mallard (as "Fred, Scrooge's Nephew" - OC by @minnesotamedic186)

Leonard, or Lenny (as "Bob Cratchit")

Lucille (as "Bob Cratchit's Wife")

Little Lottie (as "Tiny Tim")

Bea (as "Belle, Scrooge's Girlfriend")

Sir Piangi (as "Jacob Marley" and "Mr. Fezziwig")

Jedidiah McGruff (as "The Ghost of Christmas Past")

Sunny Ray (as "The Ghost of Christmas Present")

Hannya (as "The Ghost of Christmas Future")

Note: These are not acting roles, but rather representations of the original characters of Charles Dickens' novel. For example, Bea is to Phantom like how Belle is to Scrooge.

---

Summary: The Phantom of the Bwahpera - renowned opera singer and a big hit celebrity.... with an even bigger ego. But when he is visited by the ghost of his deceased friend, Phantom's world becomes haunted by spirits who show him what it really means to be humble. Will Phantom change his ways, or will his love for the spotlight close the curtains in his career?

Content Includes: Death (lots of it), Depression/Mental Illnesses/Dark Implications, Body Horror, and Sparks of Hope Spoilers!

(I will be making a Part 2 of this post, which will be a "In A Nutshell" storyline for the AU)

[sillypilled-friendcel]

MT

M: What’s the weirdest AU scenario you’ve ever come up with?  Did it turn into a story?

hmm hard to keep track of all the ones we've had, we tend to forget to write them down. probably the death note dolly au. no stories for that one yet tho <//3

T: Any fanfic tropes you can’t stand?

fluffy ass hurt/comfort shit. icks me so bad. also, characters having kids. i dont really wanna hear about that shit.

[miss-misamisa-amane]

did my best for ragdoll L :3 I'll prolly wait to make an attempt at other dollies til im able to get a tablet

[steele-soulmate]

Tattooed Wings, CHAPTER 582, Peter Steele & OFC, Soulmate AU

SUMMARY: Mary Claire Bradley meets her soulmate- literally- the famous Peter Steele of metal group Type O Negative. But will obstacles including trauma, stalkers, and toxic family members get in the way of their life?

WARNING: mentions of child rape (nothing graphic) PTSD, milk kink, soft smut, grinding, assault, fingering, hand jobs, blow jobs, 69, P in V sex, blood, noncon rape, violence, death, vandalism, graffiti, attempted kidnapping, break-ins, wild animal attacks, terrorist attack (sabotage) consensual impregnation, bareback, impregnation kink, creampies, terrorist attacks (shootings) hit and run pedestrian accident, precipitous labor, neonatal death, abandoned baby, child intoxication, death of a minor character

WORDS: 1138

A NOTE FROM THE AUTHORESS:

I am so terribly sorry about dropping off from the face of the world- I attended a con on 2/10 and 2/11 and get caught the con plague late that Sunday night. Never fear- I am doing MUCH better now.

“Hi, we’re here to see Cara?” I asked the store employee, who then ushered us into an office located just down a hallway with an EMPLOEES ONLY sign tacked onto the main area. “Okay Elizabeth, are you ready now?”

“I guess I am!” she smiled with her lips shut. The rest of the week had passed by smoothly, with her quickly growing used to her braces. I had discovered that she had opted for silver bands over her butterfly shaped brackets and that she was rather religious with brushing and flossing her teeth after every meal and snack.

I could only smile at her as Cara welcomed us all into her office. I had called ahead and asked if it would be alright if my husband and I had all the kids with us, or if she wanted it to be just Elizabeth and her parents. The kids had all decided to bring their little dollie friends with them for a show and tell with American Girl- Elle, Jing and the babies’ dollies.

“All the dollies will take over the world!” Cara teased us as we all made ourselves comfortable- Peter squeezed himself into a too small chair, the still tiny triplets situated in his lap. Baby Tommy, Baby Eve and Baby Noah were seated at their daddy’s feet, Elizabeth and Elle, Katie and Jing and myself were in chairs stationed around Cara’s neat desk.

Twenty minutes later, and everyone was comfy with each other- with Baby Tommy proudly showing Cara his little dollie friend and babbling happily. Cara was sweet to the babies, paying each of them a certain type of attention that told me she was a mother.

“By the way, I love your braces! You look completely adorable with them!”

“Even though I have Alopecia?” Elizabeth looked a bit suspicious at the woman’s statement.

“Even though you have Alopecia. The Alopecia just makes it all the more cuter!”

“Yeah, I haven’t been able to located American Girl braces anywhere for a reasonable price!” I said, making a face at Baby Eve as she toddled over towards me on wobbly legs. “The cheapest I found was up on Ebay for three hundred dollars for a sheet of twelve.”

“Oh lord.” Cara looked horrified as she wrote something down onto a giant legal pad of paper, which were the notes that she was doing for the American Girl 2028 Girl of the Year© doll. Elizabeth had pitched the idea of the doll company making a best friend doll, much like Marie Grace Gardner and Cécile Ray the historical best friends or Nicki and Isabel Hoffman the historical twins. Cara had looked excited at this, and had said that American Girl had been looking to introduce a character with Down’s Syndrome, having added the mold almost three years earlier.

She had also said that American Girl would probably like to have Elle and Jing be in the collections as well, to the girl’s utter delight. When the girls were asked about pets, Elizabeth proudly showed off some pictures that she’d taken of the Ratajczyk critters- Daisy, Mittens, Primrose, Felix and Jack Sparrow.

“Wow, a pet skunk? I don’t think American Girl ever had a doll who had a pet skunk!”

“American Girl also never had a doll with Alopecia or Down’s Syndrome,” Elizabeth shrugged, reaching down to tug Baby Eve up onto her lap, where the delightfully chubby sixteen month old baby tucked herself into her big sister’s chest with a quiet babble, stuffing her rag dollie in for a huggie.

“American Girl also never had a doll with a pet skunklet!” Katie chimed in. “Can our dollies have musical instruments? Please?”

“I play the harp and Celtic harp and Katie plays the piano and kantele,” Elizabeth explained. “Mommy found my mommy’s high school harp, and it’s kept in my bedroom. Katie plays the piano downstairs in the sunroom. Daddy got Katie her kantele and me my Celtic harp from faire.”

“Renaissance faires haven’t been mentioned anywhere in the American Girl lore,” Katie butted in, lifting Baby Noah up onto her lap and wrapping her arm snuggly around his waist and pinning him snug to her.

“I didn’t know that Mary Claire played the harp!”

“Oh no- not me, Elizabeth’s biological mother!” I explained with a laugh.

“Oh, that’s so sweet!” Cara sighed, looking up from scribbling on her legal pad of endless notes. “And Mary Claire, you’re fine with Elizabeth calling someone else her mommy?”

“I think what you’re trying to ask me is if it’s normal for a child to have someone else in their life who they can call family even though not being of the same blood,” I said.

“Mommy is my mommy even though she didn’t give birth to me,” Elizabeth chimed in with. “She treats Katie and I like we are her children, and we do the same to her.”

“Like I sometimes forget that she’s not my mommy-mommy and that daddy isn’t my daddy-daddy!” Katie interjected. “Does that make any sense at all?”

“No, not really.”

Here, Cara shuffled some papers into order before clearing her throat a few times.

“Tell me more about faire- like what’s you favorite part about it?”

Elizabeth and Katie both exchanged identical looks and I turned to Cara.

“You have no idea what you just started,” I droned, sitting back as both girls began to bubble over with glee as they spilled over with little tidbits and tales of their past faires.

TAGLISTS ARE OPEN/ ASK BOX IS OPEN/ REQUESTS ARE OPEN/ PLOT BUNNIES ARE WELCOMED

If you liked this, then please consider buying me a coffee HERE It only costs $3!!!

PETER STEELE TAGLIST

@rock-a-noodle

@ch3rry-c01a

[nobody-nexus]

Okay so... I have an AU idea for TADC

So seeing all of these AUs for TADC around gave me an idea for one, and if I get enough positive feedback I'll probably draw stuff about it. The name for it is called The Sinful Circus AU. The concept is that the digital circus is a prison for some of the worst prisoners of all. Each one of the circus members are themed after one of the seven deadly sins, and their crime reflected of that. (Note: Lust, in this context, is NOT sexual- but more manipulation. Please keep that in mind)

Caine was the very first prisoner forced to put on the headset. He was Specimen 0, and therefore in there the longest. So long that he forgot he was even a human being in the first place, instead thinking he's an omnipresent AI. His real name is Camerom Ringler, and his sin was Pride. Crimes he committed involve fraud, identity theft, use of illegal substances, and various other unknown crimes

The second longest lasting prisoner is an older man named Roman Kingston, and his sin was Greed, using his royal status as a prince to steal from thousands of people. The circus made him insane, and now he's just in his own world, claiming a small portion of the place as 'his kingdom' while not being all quite there at the same time

The next was a woman named Amanda Dollie, who's sin was Sloth. She was the head secretary for the president at the time of her sentence, but she hadn't been a good one. She made a number of short cuts which lead to a near economic collapse. The circus pushes her around often, even though she can be put back together easily, it's still painful and hard to handle a lot of the time

Next was Jackson Conejito. His sin was Lust, but not in the way most think when hearing that. It was an intense longing for hatred and to cause havoc and chaos, becoming a menace DUE to this longing. Robbery, breaking and entering, and arson to name a few- this longing to give others hate grew more and more until he was finally caught. He's the least affected within the circus, but his bunny like appearance was a more ironic punishment

Soon enough the next one was a girl named Grace Mezzanine- who's sin was Envy. Due to her front of being a constantly happy and cheery person, most were surprised when it turned out that the lovable woman was a murderer- killing people who upset her or made herself conscious and jealous. Her love for musical theater taught her how to act, so her circus body being just as spineless as she was made the most sense

Second to last was Zoe Clash, who's biggest sin was Gluttony. They couldn't get enough attention, being the most well-known sinful criminal. A media star that, due to being so obsessed with beauty and being the center of attention, lead to the second most deaths even if indirectly. To match the ugliness in their heart, they turned into something that's hard to describe aside from 'unnatural' and 'mismatching'

The last currently alive, and the most recent of them all, was Polina Shutnik. Not much was known about the woman. She was born in Russia but grew up fully American. She caused the most deaths out of the people stuck in there. Anything that's considered a weapon will put the normally tired and anxious woman into a murdering machine until she passes out or the item is ripped from her hands. She's also the one who remembers the least about herself in the circus. All she remembers is having a headset put onto her head. She takes the form of a jester, confused and scared whilst looking for a way out

These seven aren't the only ones who were put in here, but most abstract into torturous monsters that the coders that keep them within use to hurt them constantly. Abstraction happens when the human body of the prisoner dies, and the headset isn't taken off within seconds after their death

These seven prisoners, here to live the rest of their lives within this digital torment... Or maybe not

(If you have any thoughts for this AU- let me know! I wanna work on this more because I find the idea cool and interesting!)

[otakusparkle]

> Identity V (Truth & Inference AU) <

Sinner Black Maiden (Lady Theresia)

Biodata

Name : Theresia

Birthday : 23 April

Age : Around 18 - 19

Family : - Lady Bella (Deceased)

- Scrooge (Current guardian)

- Ronald

- Inference (Current guardian)

Occupation : None

Skill : Past reading, tarot reading, fortune telling, playing piano

Favorite : Reading books, seeing her mother rehearsals

Love Interest : Siegfried/Noir (Saphir)/White

Trivia

- While Siegfried/Noir (Saphir)/White can see future, Theresia can see someone's past life

- After the death of her mother, Theresia was actually invited to Lady Amethyst place to live with her, but unfortunately, she also died because someone killed her (surprisingly, it's not D.M.)

- Amethyst knew that something was up, she then send back Theresia back to her town before she got killed, Amethyst sacrificing herself for Theresia, because she loved her just like she loved her sister

- Theresia actually always bring an amethyst necklace, it's the last gift from Amethyst herself

- Scrooge took pity at her and then asked her to lived with him and Ronald, since now Theresia was living alone all by herself

- Scrooge even gave her home tutor instead of make her going to real school

- Theresia doesn't know who is DM and Noir/Saphir, but she just know their appearances

- Even though Theresia can see people's past, she doesn't know the people who are involved, but, she knows their appearance in detailed information

- Theresia's tarot card are actually only a stack of blank white card and only herself who can read it, Inference thought that it was a note paper but actually it's not

- Theresia never knew this but since she was 'living' with White, he secretly buying new books, covered them in coffee liquid and dirt, so the books looks old

He does this because White loves seeing Theresia's excited expression when seeing a book that she never read before and when White said that it's an old book he 'accidentally' found

- Because of White's secret action, up until now, Inference, Truth, and Paranormal was confused because suddenly the book in the agency library is increasing, Inference's coffee beans and powder always gone, and there's hole in the backyard of his office

- When Theresia go to the detective agency, she always brought new toys for White to play, while White secretly buying her a new books then covered it with coffee liquid and dirt

- She had SS-Tier accessories and it was a porcelain doll that was tied with golden chain of amethyst necklace. The name of the accessories is "Dolly Dream". The accessories had effect everytime she use her skill. The skin itself has it's special effect. Everytime she meet White/Noir, there will be "romance aura" effect around them

[norabrice1701]

Strange Case of Dr. Kreizler and Mr. Brühl

Series Master List - Complete

A "Dr. Jekyll/Mr. Hyde" AU Modern!Laszlo/Daniel x Fem!Reader Series

Series Summary: From the first moment you saw Laszlo Kreizler, you were inexplicably drawn to the unusual gentleman. But it isn't until you meet Mr. Brühl that you realize just how unusual they truly are.

Series Warnings: Explicit 18+ NSFW smut (including oral f!receiving, overstimulation, hints of dom/sub, praise kink kinda, possessiveness), masturbation, frottage, explicit language, mild body horror, vomiting, murderer & murder & morality, child abuse (rape) & associated injury discussion (more medical, less graphic), discussions about death and life legacy, cemetery tourism, inappropriate cemetery decorum, hurt/comfort, dark & corrupt religious references, intoxicated character, Laszlo's determination not to let his insecurities stop him from making whatever difference he can in a corrupt system no matter the cost, creative liberty with Laszlo's modern profession, love at first sight, Gothic Romance inspiration & tropes, use of Mr. Daniel Brühl not intended to reflect anything about the actor as himself

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Series Word Count: 38k

A/N: Inspired by asks & convos with @raraenoctes (@morvantmortuary), and the fantastic world they're building with their OC! My love and thanks to @random-frog-on-a-bench for beta'ing this story, and helping me stay motivated to knock this out. Also, my continued thanks to the lovely @janine-007 who indulged my questions about German pet names and offered some fabulous suggestions.

Reblogs and notes are always so appreciated - I aimed to make this a little stylized, a little Gothic Romance, a little modern meets Victorian...I hope y'all enjoy this contribution to spooky season, and tag list is open if anyone is interested!

Thanks as always 😊

Tag list: @everythingbeginsineternity-blog @thehuiabird @creme-bruhlee @belle82devart @scuttle-buttle @glimmering-darling-dolly @somethingthatsaysbubbles

[dolliedarlin]

alright dolliebabe i hope you’re prepared to deal with the sleeping giant that you’ve awoken in me hehe! and again thank you so much for my lovely surprise!! chifuyu and i thank you very much!! mwah mwah mwah <333

tokrev au, set in the past, and even tho it is i still say no deaths bc all of their lives are too precious! >:(

❥

For as long as she could remember Keisuke Baji had always haunted her mind. Right before she fell asleep the memory of Baji snoring loudly next to her in class would pop up, or when she was at the convenience store, picking out her favorite drink, she’d pass the aisle with peyoung yakisoba which she caught Baji and his blond friend purchasing one day. Or when Baji’s boisterous laugh filled the hallway and in turn her ears as he walked with his friends to their classroom.

Baji had her wrapped around his little finger and yet, he didnt even know who she was.

“I don’t know why you don’t just talk to him. It’s not like your telling him you love him! You’re just saying ‘hi’!” Dollie’s best friend, and basically younger sister, candidly advised.

“What if he wants nothing to do with me?”

“Are you kidding me, Dolliebabe?! Listen, you may not see the heart eyes that Baji sends you, when your busy taking notes in class with your tongue poking your cheek in concentration, but I do!”

“And I, don’t believe you.”

Dollie’s friend groaned in frustration. “It’s either talk to Baji or talk to Baji in your imagination where nothing ever happens because it’s not real!”

“You know, you’re one to talk! When’s the last time you spoke to Mikey?” Dollie crossed her arms and waited patiently for an answer. And upon hearing nothing she walked away proudly to her class and sat in her assigned seat next to the boy who personally delivered butterflies to her stomach.

She could listen to his deep, passionate, gravelly voice all day if she could; the way it gets higher when he gets defensive, the way it gets rougher when he yells, the way his laugh seems to change tones and types, from giggles to cackles to snorts and chuckles, and she found that utterly endearing.

The teacher waltzed in a bit late, quieting down the class and starting the lesson. Dollie reached for her green mechanical pencil that was in her peripheral vision but instead of feeling the plastic she felt another hand. A strong hand.

Red-faced she turned to see the infamous man of her dreams, shock etched onto his godly sculpted face,

“Oh, do you not have one?” He inquired in an uncharacteristically soft tone.

“What?”

“Here you can have that one, I stole another from Mitsuya yesterday!” It was only when he used his hands to rummage through his bag that she realized, she never removed their entangled hands.

Dollie stared at her hand and new pencil as she remembered the events of earlier that day. How could one boy have such an affect on her. She doesn’t even remember what her teacher had spoke about in the lecture. She sighed exasperatedly and closed her eyes hoping all of this boy-drama would fall off her shoulders if she relaxed them from their constantly taut state.

The open window next to her provided more than just a slight breeze but also the sound of many grunts and hits. Her eyes flew open as she watched in horror as some older man punched a poor high school boy, around her age, in the gut. Though, she couldn’t see his face for he had doubled over and flopped on the ground, hand holding his stomach as if it’s presence would somehow relieve the pain.

Without much thought she raced out her front door toward the boy, the attacker, thankfully, had gone.

“Are you alright?” She called out, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. His ponytail was loose and the roots of his hair were soaked in sweat from the short but taxing fight.

Her enthralling brown eyes met his met his sharp honey ones and he huffs almost amusedly, “Don’t worry I’m not back for my pencil.”

Dollie huffed a worried breath, “Do you need medical attention, Baji? I have a first-aid kit inside of you need it!”

Baji pushed off the ground and kneeled in front of Dollie, smugly brushing an inky strand behind her ear, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about it, Doll.”

Dollie’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened ever so slightly. It was such a cheesy, cocky line, but somehow he made it sound so… good. And incredibly attractive. He smirked and then smiled boyishly, rubbing her shoulder in thanks before walking away to, wherever a mysterious man like Baji goes.

The scent of pine and orange slices didn’t leave the poor girl’s mind, and she doesn’t think it ever will. Not that she’s complaining! Because the smell of pine and orange also smelled like the first time Baji really ever noticed Dollie. And from that point on, pine and orange became, somewhat of, a familiar scent.

How D- HOW DARE YOU!

I- how dare you send this to me as I’m about to head into my dissection practical and can’t reply properly?!

Omg! I looked like a crazy person reading this on the bus and in the common room at 8 FRICKIN AM, SMILING like some sort of MANIAC!!!

MY HEART IS WEAK!

This was so beautifully written and adorable and just the way I would react around someone as pretty and daring as Baji! Is it just me or has your writing become more poetic and mature but still charming???

I can’t believe this…if it’s war you want then it’s a war you’ll get! Because believe it or not as soon as I start shipping my friends with fictional characters I love writing about, I’m can’t stop and have to resist the urge to write but FOR YOU HANGE! I! WILL! NOT! STOP!!!!!!

mini edit; I’m currently reading it for the 10th or so time rn and I can’t get enough!